"Do you realize how ridiculous it looks?" Alvar asked me in a tone as if he were asking something simple.
Like why the direction where the star of the Lantean system rises is called east, and the opposite is called west.
"I don't think so," I parried, watching Ihaar and a couple of technicians tinkering next to the Wraith dart.
"It's actually funny," Kirik, standing nearby, supported his fellow former 'runner.' "I'm not saying the Ancients are already gossiping about it, but... No, seriously, Misha, what's wrong with you?"
"I'm from another universe. Does that explanation work?"
"And in your universe, all grown men run from two beauties who are practically writing on posters that they like you?" Alvar asked. "Or is it some peculiarity of your people's mating rituals?"
They don't understand.
"Okay, let me explain it simply," I offered. "Alvar, did you have a wife?"
"Yes."
"Kirik?"
"Until I was taken," he confirmed. "But you know yourself — my world was destroyed, we were there. And I didn't find any trace of my chosen one. She's either dead, or the Wraith collected her. And she's already dead."
He said the last words with some sadness in his voice.
"But I have a wife," I said. "In another universe. Alive and well. And she's waiting for me."
"Did you make that up yourself, or did someone suggest that stupidity?" Alvar asked.
"It's my creed, helping me push through all the anarchy and chaos I've gotten into."
"Or it's self-deception you're clinging to," Kirik sighed. "I'm familiar with that... I still can't get used to the fact that Selys has grown from a little girl into a young woman."
"And she's smarter than you to boot, isn't she?" Alvar grinned.
"If I had a complex about someone being smarter than me, I'd probably have shot myself as soon as I arrived at Atlantis," Kirik admitted. "So I'm calm about it here. I wanted a better future for her. Not exactly like this, but... It doesn't bother her. She's genuinely glad she's grown up and become smart. In the end, she's glad she saves lives. That's worth a lot."
"In other words, since she's happy, you're happy?" the Ermen clarified.
"Of course," Kirik agreed.
"Misha," Jensen addressed me. "Answer a simple question... You agreed to a deal with an Ascended. And you probably understood that it could throw you anywhere. I doubt that bothered you."
"Get to the point," I winced. Alvar was right, actually. At the moment I made the deal with General Hippaforalkus, I couldn't have cared less about myself. "I was dead, damn it. But at the cost of my life, I could save Marina, so it was a perfectly fair trade."
"Then I don't understand at all," Alvar sighed. "You're here, and in your universe, no one obviously arranged for a copy of you to be with your wife or something like that. She probably thinks you're dead."
"And you're hardly likely to ever return to your universe," Kirik chimed in. "This is your home now."
"There are technologies in the Milky Way that allow it," I said. I didn't tell anyone that there were also such technologies in Pegasus. And... If I think about it, it'll be another four years or so before the Daedalus appears, which can travel between universes.
Though... It'll appear over the planet that became Atlantis's new home after the departure from Lantea. The chances of meeting are very slim, but they exist! Not to mention Tribune Titus directly said that the Ancients had technology to 'peer' into other universes.
So there's a chance to return to my home universe.
"And then what?" Alvar asked. "As soon as the chance appears, you'll run away there? Abandon us and the city that won't function half as well without you?"
"I'll go get my wife, then come back," I said.
"And would she even want that?" Kirik asked. "To live in constant danger that some Ancient technology in a city thousands of years old might break and we'll all drown, suffocate, turn into steam, or something else along those lines?"
"It's not even about that," Alvar said. "You said yourself that you died in your universe. She might have buried you. I'll skip the fact that you don't look like you did in your past life now," he pointed at me. It was true. I got the appearance of one of the Lantians. Some minor scientist from those few hundred who received enhanced bodies. "And what's she supposed to think? You show up to her, unknown and incomprehensible, claiming to be her man she buried... Maybe yesterday, maybe a year ago, or maybe after half a lifetime. What then? You don't even know where or when you'll find inter-universe travel technology. And you don't know how she'll react at all."
"If I were in that situation, I'd shoot you as a psychopath saying very dangerous things," Kirik said. "It's just... We understand what's happening. We live in a city, most of which will forever remain a mystery to people like me and Alvar. Look at Teyla — even if she doesn't show it, everything around her is new and dangerous."
"Funny... And why did you start this conversation right now?" I asked. "After I sent Chaya to work on the database and Trebal to Taranis. Didn't you have such 'brilliant' ideas before?"
"We did," Alvar yawned. "We just thought that since you know the future and don't seem like a stupid man, you'd figure it out yourself. But you, apparently, decided you could combine your two lives."
"And wouldn't you want to get your wife back?" I asked, looking at both former 'runners.' "Wouldn't you both strive for that, knowing there's a chance to be together again?"
"A chance?" Alvar clarified. "Sorry, but talk about another galaxy that has a mechanism that can throw you into another universe, not even your own, probably to a woman who thinks you're dead... And so on. No offense, my friend, but it sounds more like a stubborn desire to cling to the past."
"If I knew that somewhere far away my chosen one lived, thinking I was dead and, surely, moving on after my loss, I wouldn't reopen old wounds," Kirik said. "She's already survived my death. She's already buried me. And my destiny from now on is tied to dangers, battles. I'll probably die fighting the Wraith. So she'd have to bury me again? Wouldn't that be despicable of me?"
"Or Misha thinks he'll find a way to his universe and leave us," Alvar said. "Just like that — first he helps, then he just abandons us. Sticks us in a hole even deeper than the one he pulled us out of."
"I didn't say that."
"Well, then you have a screw loose if you haven't thought about it," Alvar took a sip of herbal tea from a large metal cup. Funny, but that's ordinary tableware on Atlantis. And it has a thermos function, which is very convenient. Food is always hot if it's supposed to be. Cold if it was originally cold. The legacy of another, more developed civilization, dammit.
"I did think about it," I admitted. "And I came to the conclusion that it would be a despicable act toward all of you."
"But you didn't consider that the Ascended Ancestors don't like you because of your origin in another universe," the Ermen said. "Maybe they're putting obstacles in our way so you'll die faster. And maybe us too. What will happen if there are two of you? Or more?"
A chill ran down my spine.
A more developed body, right? A more developed brain? Learned to plan a few steps ahead? Even started uncovering the Ancients' secrets...
But I never even thought about such a 'trifle.'
No, seriously. If all our misfortunes are the pressure of the Ascended? Their desire to get rid of me. Then what? Abandoning these people to their fate and returning to my home universe to Marina would be wrong. And bringing her here, even if she agreed... What then? Would the Ascended simply destroy us all, or would they swallow again and hide behind the rules?
Or would a 'technical malfunction' occur and we'd die during the transition, using the inter-universe travel device?
Damn it...
"I think it's dawning on him," Alvar snorted. "You know, Kirik. I suspect that the more developed a civilization is, the more problems in their actions they fail to notice."
Huh? What?
"Then we're lucky we're not that developed," Kirik sighed. "Alvar, Ihaar is waving at us. Looks like it's time."
The 'runner' headed toward the dart and the Ancients.
"Looks like they've figured that thing out," the Ermen put his thermos cup on a tool box in the huge room we were using as a hangar. "Mish," he looked me in the eye. "Honestly, I understand you. Almost. But you understand us too... Everyone has their problems. But making them even more serious because you leave or bring a woman you'll condemn to suffering because of the Ascended's rules... That's not quite the right thing to do."
"Dick move," I said darkly.
"A dick move," Alvar agreed. "You know, Kirik. I have a suspicion that the more developed a civilization is, the more problems they don't notice in their actions."
"Huh... What?"
"Then we're lucky we're not that developed," Kirik sighed. "Alvar, Ihaar is waving at us. Looks like it's time."
The "runner" went toward the dart and the Ancients.
"Looks like they've figured out that thing," the Ermen placed his thermos cup on a tool box in the enormous room we used as a hangar. "Mish," he looked me in the eye. "Honestly, I understand you. Almost. But you understand us too... Everyone has their problems. But making them even more serious by leaving or by bringing a woman you'll condemn to suffering because of the Ascended's rules... That's not quite the right thing to do."
"Dick move," I said darkly.
"I don't know what that means," Alvar said. "Just... if you decide to leave, let us know beforehand, alright? I don't want to end up with nothing overnight in a city where a simple door can kill you around every corner. Other than that... your wife must have been, and still is, a wonderful woman, if you want to reunite with her across universes. But... just think about whether she needs all this."
Without another word, the Ermen picked up the helmet of his pilot suit and headed toward the "Arrow" waiting for him.
And I... thought.
About how even an advanced Lantean body doesn't save a person from being an idiot.
* * *
There was little to indicate that the three large rooms on the outer part of the large piers were actually hangars for launching fighters or something similar. On the city map, they were simply marked as "Technical Sections."
But in terms of size — ceiling height of about ten meters and an area the size of a football field — they were perfectly suited for such purposes. The previous inhabitants of Atlantis had clearly used them as storage for various damaged equipment. In the hangar we were currently in, we found a couple of "jumpers" that were completely wrecked, with a significant amount of equipment stripped from them. It seemed that technological cannibalism wasn't something new that I had brought to the Pegasus galaxy of this universe.
A large number of broken consoles, burnt wiring, damaged crystals, and other equipment that would never work again without proper repair. The Ancients had picked this scrap metal clean, obviously taking everything valuable and intact for use in other devices.
Ihaar insisted we shouldn't throw away the scrap metal. At the very least, we could find something that might still be usable. In the worst case, we could always send it to the workshops for smelting and get something we actually needed. However, we were already grateful for the little we had.
At our disposal, we had not only a couple of dozen multifunctional consoles that could be restored and repurposed, but also stocks of metals and elements. After all, every console and control panel of Lantean design was not so much a specialized computer as a modular platform that could be used however you needed. You just had to insert properly programmed crystals in the right way, and, say, a panel responsible for detecting life signs throughout the city could easily be turned into a shield control panel. The main thing was to connect it to the power and city device control systems. And for that, a wired connection wasn't always necessary.
In short, these "technical sections" had become a real paradise for bums making a living off recycling bottles. More or less, we were doing the same thing.
But we would still have to repurpose these sections. Having two hangars rigidly adapted exclusively for "jumpers" with exits below the waterline and from the central spire wasn't very convenient if you wanted to launch fighters like the Wraith's "Arrows." And in my global plans, I had the production of our own analogs. Although... I had to understand that for such purposes, we would need either an automated factory or a group of technicians who would work day and night exclusively on manufacturing spare parts and assembling fighters.
This wasn't how I imagined the advanced distant future. But reality is harsh. And we were increasingly approaching the limit of our human resources. There weren't many Ancients to begin with, and the death of the technician had reduced the number of living, healthy Ancients. Yes, we still had a couple of hundred or so in reserve, but that didn't mean we could afford to ignore losses.
People were needed literally everywhere.
A technical team to work on the battleship, at the outpost, on Atlantis. We continued to send drone probes to other planets connected to Ancient outposts or the homeworlds of younger races. But all we found there was ruin or small tribes of people who needed help themselves. And we didn't have many resources to help just anyone.
If only someone would help us...
But no one would do that except ourselves.
And we had one team on a "jumper" on duty at Proculus, watching who came through the gate. We couldn't relax there either — a couple of times, Wraiths had paid us a "visit." And apparently, they didn't like that the gate had been "moved" from orbit to the surface. The Wraiths launched a whole raid, sending almost fifty "Arrows" through the gate, which searched Proculus from pole to pole. But they only found the old remains of the Genii that Koschei had fed on when the supporters of the former Chancellor Leikos decided to flee to their patrons. In the end, the Wraiths left, apparently deciding that someone from a competing hive had set the trap and choosing not to mess with the owners.
But this showed that Proculus was no longer the best place for "accumulating" enemies.
I should find a planet the Wraiths didn't know about and move the Proculusian project there.
Teams were working on Lantea-2, New Athos, Athos, Ermen, and Taranis. On the last one, we were getting raw materials and spare parts for the hull and internal communications of the battleship and Atlantis on an industrial scale (by Ancient standards). However, due to the nature of the energy source, it turned out to be impossible to do this on an assembly line — the expansion of the magma chamber also had its limits. You could release excess magma through the gates and filter out useful substances from it as much as you wanted, but the more energy you took from the supervolcano, the more the planet decided to share the contents of its mantle with you. We had to cut back on the Oscietra. And that didn't help repairs at all.
I had an idea to place a similar complex on Athos, since the planet was abandoned and all that. There was an energy source there too. But building a complex like the one on Taranis required resources, time, and... technicians. I was starting to understand why the Lanteans delegated all the dirty work to younger races — there were simply more of them.
The only thing Athos could be useful for right now was the laboratory we had set up in the Old City. In it, a group of technicians was working with our trophy cyborg. It was still in stasis, but the virtual environment system should be operational very soon, and we would be able to talk to it.
After the incomprehensible demarche of the Athosians, the issue of obtaining qualified military force had become even more acute. So much so that now I had to think about who to bring back to life first — the fighters from Atlantis's security service or the technicians and crew.
Trebal demanded the latter, despite the pun.
Chaya and Ihaar wanted the second.
Alvar, Kirik, and the logic of upcoming ground operations required the first. And I understood that in each of these categories, there were those who wouldn't agree to work for us when they realized their actions were going against the Ascended. And I needed to figure out how to find that lifesaving valve for releasing pressure.
I had an idea where to send such dissatisfied people. It would also serve as a "bone" for the Ascended. But for now, I was struggling with the coordinates of the right planet.
The situation with nacahdah mining on Ermen was getting worse by the day. The distrust between us and the Athosians was invisibly growing after Teyla visited New Athos. Holling, her friend and comrade who led the settlement, told us that some Athosians had been visited in their dreams by the Ancestors, who had described cooperation with us as not the best idea. It made me want even more to fly to the Milky Way and use the weapon against the Ascended. I absolutely didn't understand the logic of putting a stick in the wheels of the one you asked to take care of some unknown... SHIT, basically, that had struck the Milky Way.
But it seemed that the logic of the Ascended was even worse than that of living Ancients. They weren't even going to make contact through the holographic hall of Atlantis. It seemed the divine assholes were offended. Maybe if I found the right planet, I could fix the situation. No, objectively, it was hard to save their legacy when they themselves were shitting on our heads.
And they were staying silent, like offended women who got drunk and slept with you, but you didn't take them to the registry office in the morning.
One way or another, citing the need to tend the fields, build the city, and so on, the Athosians had left Ermen. Even Teyla's persuasion didn't help. They didn't tell her to go to hell, of course, but Holling himself democratically hinted that the interests of the Athosians were more important. Like, you guys are doing fine, there's no war, but New Athos is getting colder, winter is coming, we need to prepare for it.
It was hard to argue with that logic — we ourselves had told them during the relocation that winters on New Athos were indeed harsh. Minus thirty on a normal day was a given. And I trusted Chaya's analysis of New Athos's natural features. Actually, it was one of the few things I truly trusted.
This incident said a lot.
First, Teyla's authority among her own people had been shaken. Holling, not with a claim but with a reproach, told her that helping Atlantis was, of course, good. And they were grateful for everything we had done for them. But their own people were more important.
Because it was the leader of the people who had to explain to the arguers why the division of their fields should be this way and not another. Why one large family couldn't take a piece of land from a smaller family that wasn't using it. Why some had fields farther away than others. Why some lived in large heated tents while others didn't. Why some already had fences to protect against small rodents while others didn't.
And generally, why the hell couldn't they go back to Athos and at least plant crops in the already developed fields? Why did they have to conduct trade negotiations and disputes on trading planets themselves, when their leader should be doing that? Why did they have to wait for the next group of Lanteans to arrive just to tell them that one of the Athosians had fallen ill with a new variant of the local cold, and why wouldn't the Ancients give them medicine for all diseases?
I had been among the Athosians with her and answered their questions as best I could. But new ones kept coming. And after a couple of hours, my head hurt so much that I wanted to ask the camouflaged "jumpers" circling above us to blow these utterly clueless bastards to hell.
And even though they were clearly the legitimate children of their parents, that was exactly how I felt about them. Because you had to have big balls and small brains to make demands of the people who relocated you and your kin to a planet where the Wraiths couldn't take you, who gave you, for fuck's sake, electricity from generators instead of torches and campfires, who built you fences so you wouldn't have to fear wild animals and crop damage, who gave you medicine, who provided you with weapons and taught you how to use them. And so on.
The families of those idiots to whom the Ancestors had whispered that it was the Athosians who should kill the Queen of Death — they might not have said it out loud, but they clearly blamed us for their deaths. I think, from the slip-ups, I was starting to understand what the Ascended were playing on: the Athosians categorically didn't like that we were cooperating with the Wraiths. To them, it was something like a local haram, for which you'd usually be burned at the stake by the Inquisition. But the fact that the more Wraiths we returned to the ranks of the Ancients, the more we could help them — that didn't compute in the Athosians' tiny brains.
They, you see, felt sorry for the Genii. Yes, the complaint that the Genii had stopped trading with them was now, apparently, also our fault. Like, they had fallen out with kind and honest traders. But, and may they be fucked with a red-hot poker, they no longer had to pay the Genii for tava beans and a bunch of other things, and could grow them themselves — that didn't occur to the little bastards. I had to explain. They seemed to understand... But then they remarked that because the Genii had broken off their trade relations, a good dozen other planets had done the same, which outweighed the arguments. They, for fuck's sake, can't exchange milk for medicinal herbs anymore! And they can't trade black bread for game!
Fucking hell of a problem! Especially since New Athos had a couple of animal species that gave milk. And these idiots knew how to bake bread themselves. Just not black bread, but grey, because they didn't have the right kind of wheat.
I was starting to understand why the Earthlings hadn't helped the Athosians at every step, but only as much as they could and in small amounts. These people really started getting uppity as soon as you showed them you could do more.
After that meeting, I warned Teyla that Atlantis would no longer bare its "tit of care" and give to her Athosians just so they would supply us with food and help us acquire what we needed in other worlds. We had already given them quite a lot of resources. Damn it, where was the justice? Almost all their large families lived in warm, comfortable Ermen field tents that looked more like inflatable towns, and we only had a couple of those! We had to build the laboratory on Athos, where we were nursing the cyborg, out of sticks and shit, while each of those bastards' tents had a couple of heaters!
Emmagan said she understood everything and would try to convey to her people that the end of the gravy train was coming. But, as I understood it, the Athosians wouldn't come to their senses until they, for fuck's sake, ran out of Ermen fuel, which gave them electricity and other pleasures of life.
They had already started supplying us with less food. Teyla was "smart enough" to disclose our numbers. To which she received a fair question: "Why should we supply food for a hundred people if there are only about thirty of you? We need to make reserves too! Who knows if the next year will be fruitful!"
Yes, for fuck's sake, it will be! Because we showed you how to cultivate the land properly! We told you about weeding! We told you that the patties of the local cows are, for fuck's sake, fertilizer and that everything grows better from them! We gave you needles made of metal and thread from fabric, not from bones and sinews! And you still act like you're too good for us, like flies on a control panel!
Fine, I agree, the Athosians know how to spin and make thread. But they still barter for most of their clothes on trading planets. And why? Because they only know how to make burlap, not the leather clothes people actually wear! Fucking gatherers.
Maybe Emmagan still hoped everything could go back to how it was, but I already understood what was what. A rift had formed between us and the Athosians. For now, it was just petty nitpicking and grievances, but the discontent would only grow. The only thing in our power was to maintain the current relationship for now and fill the warehouses while we still could.
I had already told Chaya — as soon as we were done with the Sayan cyborg on Athos, we would take all the equipment and leave. If we could, we'd even pull out the geothermal reactor and take it with us. And we'd remove the protection from their gate too. To hell with them! They're unhappy with what's happening? No problem, we'll leave.
Especially since, based on what was happening, I had clearly understood — we would still have to change Atlantis's location. Not today or tomorrow, but someday. Even though the Athosians didn't know our gate address, they still had enough information to cause problems if they fell into the hands of the Wraiths. That was another lesson — don't trust your foreknowledge. The hope that we would appease the Athosians and they would be grateful to us had not come true.
Yes, Teyla claimed that there weren't actually that many of those raging assholes — about five families, so no more than thirty people. And the other couple of hundred Athosians were actually quite loyal to us and grateful for everything we had done and were doing for them. But, as everyone knows, it's the noisy minority that creates most of the problems.
And either we solved the problem with that minority, or the Athosians would go down the drain. I had already received confirmation from Ihaar and Trebal that, if necessary, we could dismantle the mobile drilling rig and the satellite in Lantea's orbit (with incredible difficulty, of course) and transport them to a new location using the holds of the "Hippaforalkus" and Atlantis itself. But for now, that was the very last resort.
But the "wake-up call" for me was more than loud.
So I had to pull a few people from the work group on Atlantis and put them on solving the nacahdah mining problem. Not specifically on Ermen — that place had its own problems — but in general. We needed radioactive material to upgrade the battleship and build new energy sources. And no matter what planet we found it on, we would have to mine it.
So far, they hadn't been able to suggest anything; they were just studying Atlantis's database, hoping to find a mining technology the Lanteans had used. Oh, if only it were so easy to find a machine the size of a skyscraper. But essentially, it was a BelAZ that had overeaten "Rastishka" yogurt and gotten its hands on open-pit excavator technology. The machine absorbed matter, then decomposed the unnecessary parts, processing them into raw materials. The nacahdah was filtered out and remained untouched.
To say that my hair stood on end in all the wrong places when I realized the Ancients had mined minerals using open-pit methods would be an understatement. For fuck's sake, where was all that genius they used to triumphantly populate entire galaxies, huh? No answer. I shout, and silence replies.
At least we could stop mining silicon on Lantea-2 — we had enough scrap metal for processing. But obviously, it would run out in the foreseeable future. And we'd have to start swinging shovels again and hauling raw materials across half the star system.
Pisses me off.
As does the fact that the Wraiths hadn't taken over all the known resource planets of the Ancients for no reason. And we knew of more than five hundred of them from the database. The Wraiths also needed raw materials, according to the data transmitted by the Recon Drones before they were shot down. And they clearly had no intention of giving up what they had mined during the war.
After we lost the hundredth drone, I ordered an end to the survey of the former resource planets of the Ancients. No matter where we sent the drones, there were always "Arrow" patrols from the Wraiths. And in choosing addresses, I didn't go in order but selected them randomly. Hoping that luck would smile on us somewhere.
But no such luck. It seemed all five hundred planets were occupied by sleeping hive ships. We had already given them a puzzle to solve by actively using drones based on Ermen technology, and it wasn't worth pulling the Wraith's beard any further. Eventually, they weren't idiots; sooner or later, they would correlate the data, study the wreckage, and ask themselves: "Who is this audacious someone investigating very specific planets using technology more complex than a hoe and a windmill?"
So, after another raid on Ermen with all available free people and "jumpers," we pulled out everything that could somehow help us in the future. Continuing to stay on Ermen, knowing that the technology from there had already led the Wraiths to the planet, was more trouble than it was worth.
Nothing interesting, except for scraps of wire or something that didn't look like outright junk, was left there anymore. In the foreseeable future, we might be able to return and continue excavating the old mines, but for now, controlling the planet was pointless. Chaya had written a hidden subroutine and loaded it into the dialing device. When we returned, we would know who had visited the planet. But until then, all regular trips to Ermen were suspended. We had already left quite a lot of traces of our presence there — cleared mines, dead and already decomposing Genii, emptied underground chambers.
We covered our tracks as best we could and left.
On Taranis and Epheon, things were going their own way — and I meant that for the local inhabitants. Teams periodically flew to the locals, helped with some things... But we were very far from the point where these people could give us anything more than a couple of bags of grain a week. For the inhabitants of Atlantis, whose number currently stood at several dozen, that was... not exactly the volume we needed.
One of the walls of the makeshift hangar — the far one — had an exit to the atmosphere, and you could both fly out and fly in through it. At the moment, we had only cleared part of the area of one hangar from scrap metal and damaged mechanisms, where we had delivered the "Arrows" one by one from the cruiser using two "jumpers."
The condition of both wasn't the best, but the technicians had dissected one. And based on the data obtained from the vivisection, they had managed to partially repair the second. Whether the first would return to normal condition was unknown. Probably not. Because, as it turned out, "Arrows" didn't have the regenerative capabilities of hive ships or cruisers.
"Control," Alvar's voice came through the intercom. "This is 'Arrow-1.' Takeoff was nominal, the craft is responding to controls."
The Ermen was currently piloting the ship within the atmosphere, under the shield. Taking the barely repaired craft outside the shield and sending it through the ocean's depth didn't seem like a good idea. If only because its hull was fragile enough to give way under several dozen atmospheres of pressure.
Back in the control room, Ihaar and I watched the red dot of the "Arrow" dart at breakneck speed between the skyscrapers of the Lantean city. Well... one of the many projects developed within these walls looked like it wouldn't fall apart at the first sneeze.
That was some good news, at least.
"Alvar, could you reduce your speed to a minimum?" Ihaar asked. "My blood runs cold at the thought of you losing control and crashing into one of the buildings. This is a test flight, not a death race."
"Well, I just tested the engine in afterburner mode," Jensen laughed. But then he added, "Reducing speed so you don't have a heart attack. You can mark my words — I don't make piloting mistakes, don't worry."
"I'm not worried about you," Ihaar grumbled. "I'm worried about you blowing up something very important in the city."
Studying the "Arrows" had given us a little more understanding of Wraith technology. Even for me.
So, the main purpose of the "Arrow" was as an interceptor fighter. To defend more important objects from attack. And it didn't matter how — with its cannons or its own hull.
From the computers of the cruiser and the "Arrow" itself, we learned that a cruiser standardly carried fifty of these craft. On hive ships, there were many times more. Exactly how many wasn't entirely clear.
It was a single-seat ship with no transparent cockpit — instead, something like an opaque force field was projected over the pilot, onto which, like a screen, information about the surroundings and the ship's technical status was displayed. The "Arrow's" onboard computer was quite primitive, and its security protocols were very easy to crack. And that wasn't due to the Wraiths' stupidity — the "Arrow" didn't carry much information transmitted from the carrier ship. Just the current mission and recognition codes to avoid mistaking your own cruiser for an enemy's in battle.
It also had an autopilot — and it activated when the ship approached the landing bay door. We had the same on our "jumpers." I've already mentioned the dialing device for passing through the hyper-tunnel of the gate. But the Wraiths' version was quite modest due to the small size of the cockpit itself.
The ship didn't require Wraith genes; the translation program from the Wraith language loaded by Chaya worked correctly. What pleased me was that the labels on the organic buttons also transformed when the "user language" changed — from Wraith symbols (whose language was quite similar to Ancient) to the labels Alvar had specified. After all, he was our test pilot, so he had the final say on what he saw on his control panel. Yes, we had to fiddle with rewriting the basic label programs, but those were just details.
The ship was equipped with a very interesting gathering beam technology. During operation, it looked like a stream of glowing water pouring from a faucet and could increase its collection area. The collected organic matter — and the beam's sensors were calibrated to recognize signs of life (which was logical, given the use of "Arrows" in harvests) — but Chaya claimed they could easily be reprogrammed for something very specific.
I think that's how the Wraiths collected ZPMs in the known events during the attack on the replicator planet in Pegasus. The collected material object, in the form of energy, was stored in a special buffer and could be restored to its normal state at the pilot's command.
A Wraith "Arrow" over Atlantis. A still from the series.
It was also worth noting that the same beam could simultaneously be used as a device for thorough scanning. But this required a large expenditure of energy from the "Arrow's" sole power source. Literally, it consumed everything that wasn't used by the engines at normal speed, the cockpit's protective dome, and the inertial compensators.
What was curious was that the gathering beam could penetrate solid objects — even Concrete-811. And it could also materialize cargo inside enclosed spaces — Kirik, whom Alvar had "gathered" through the roof of the makeshift hangar and dropped off in the same place after making a circle over the city, had confirmed this.
At normal speeds, the "Arrow" wasn't faster than a "jumper" this was evident from the fact that our "jumper," escorting Alvar and recording readings during various maneuvers, was keeping pace quite confidently. But at cruising or afterburner speeds, a "jumper" couldn't catch an "Arrow."
It can't match it in maneuverability in atmosphere either. With its aerodynamic fuselage, the Wraith Fighter is quite nimble and agile. But the jumper needs either its Cloak or its Shield engaged for similar aerobatics, just to improve aerodynamics. That's not good — it uses a lot more energy.
I'd imagine that for the Lantians, energy consumption was never a serious issue until the very end. But the Achilles heel of Wraith technology forced them to rack their brains and create something that would be pretty efficient with limited resources.
Which once again points out the obvious: this is a very smart and inventive race, not just life-suckers.
The Darts are equipped with direct-fire pulse energy weapons powerful enough to blow up Lantian homing projectiles — we just verified that. An unpleasant discovery, I have to say. So even if we get our hands on an arsenal of projectiles and rain them down on the Hive Ships, not all of them will take out the Wraiths. Yes, as I recall, Dart pilots are ready to die to intercept projectiles they can't shoot down, but the fact that Dart targeting systems are so advanced they can even track projectiles guided by an Ancient's mind — that's a real problem.
And as for having a Self-Destruct Device on board, that was obvious anyway. The Wraiths won't give up their machines to let anyone study them in working condition.
As for the obvious downsides that came to light from the test flight — I wouldn't say anything was a huge problem that could help us in open combat. The hull being thin and vulnerable to pressure and, apparently, even large-caliber small arms, is nothing new. Lightweight hulls are used on all small craft that fly in atmosphere — even on jumpers. The ship's imperfect reactor... well, we knew about that Wraith problem already. But that's more of a strategic problem than a tactical one. You can't exploit it in every encounter with Darts, only if you're waiting for a Wraith Pilot to start funneling energy into a detailed scan with the collection beam.
Alvar summed up the overall conclusions from the test results:
"Well, now I can understand why their Darts kicked our orbital interceptors' asses. We were simply building our small craft wrong for a war of extermination."
Hard to argue with what he said.
And that depresses me even more.
The hole we're in just keeps getting deeper.