Lately, inaction has begun to irritate.
Spending several days aboard the battleship, practically unable to do anything or anything else... And, actually, what "anything else"?
All my free time I spent in the city either to study something in Atlantis's database. For example, to figure out how my personal shield works, or the pulsar, or the "Jumper." Things I use and whose functionality I simply must know.
But this is only superficial knowledge. Understanding how this or that mechanism works, what systems and devices are in it, how they interconnect. But no more.
I'm beginning to understand Kirik's helplessness. Using something is not enough. You also need to understand how to fix it. And here, skills in handling a crisper and swapping crystals are already insufficient.
I want knowledge.
So badly that sometimes it turns into an itch, a hunger that cannot be quieted. I pounce on some discipline, like physics or mechanics... And within half a day, I realize that what I've read goes beyond my comprehension. I need accompanying knowledge to understand what I want to understand from the initial database.
Distracting someone from more than important work, be it a technician, Ihaar, Chaya, Trebal, or even Fren, is blasphemous. While they explain to me what, say, the blue crystal in the engine control panel is for, they could have fixed the wiring in an entire corridor, corrected faults in the locking system on this level, or reprogrammed crystals spoiled by time, water, and whatever else in various devices.
My hands drop from the realization of my own uselessness. Even improved physiology and a more developed brain than an ordinary human's give me no advantages in learning. Chaya looks at me with regret as I glance at the Holo-Room and ponder various plans to cheat fate and get knowledge from Atlantis's database the easy way, and promptly shatters my "brilliant ideas" to smithereens.
The Holo-Room is intended for a fast-growing young mind. This isn't even classical learning as I know it. It's more like a gentle form of uploading basic Lantian knowledge directly into the brain. To the extent that the brain can absorb knowledge without risk of stroke, boiling cerebrospinal fluid, or worse.
The Repository of Ancient Knowledge in the Milky Way galaxy. Harmless, right? See one, don't be afraid, boldly peer into the very center.
It doesn't compare at all to the knowledge upload devices of the Ancestors in the Milky Way that I saw in the series. Those couldn't care less how developed you are. If you have the gene and looked at the wrong part of the wall—that's it, your head locked in artificial hands and, whether you want to or not, you get such a volume of data into your synapses that in a couple of days you'll forget your native language. As well as understanding what you're doing, why, and how you're doing it.
Looked? Well done. If you possess the Ancient Gene, then the device will react like this.
The more I think about this method of becoming useful to my own society, the more it reminds me of a facehugger from Alien. Like it or not, one way or another, it's going to grab you by the head and shove whatever IT needs into you.
And what's the moral here? Right: even if they tell you this thing is safe or that "it has to be done," don't stick your head in there — it'll eat you!
Or at the very least, cause you a whole lot of discomfort. I recall that the first person in known history who discovered such a device and received the knowledge of the Ancients literally screamed during the process of uploading all of that race's knowledge into his brain.
Whether from pain or fear is a separate question.
I think it was the first, because by the time Colonel Jack O'Neill encountered the repository of Ancient knowledge, he was far from a novice when it came to facing the unknown. You couldn't call him fearless, but at the very least, he didn't start panicking at something like that.
But the pain… He knew what that was. Both physical and emotional pain were familiar to him.
But there's a limit to everything.
I wasn't afraid of the pain — the prospect of possessing the knowledge of the Ancients was far greater than the cost of screaming a little. Only… I could remember the code designations of the planets where the repositories of Ancient knowledge were found. But I couldn't remember their coordinates.
I suspect that if I accessed the historical database of Atlantis and requested information on all the planets where the Alterans conducted their experiments in the Milky Way, I could find what I was looking for.
Only… there's us, and then there's the Milky Way.
A melodic chime came from the door, announcing that someone wanted to enter my quarters. I was occupying the room designated in the ship's roster for the first officer.
I could have kept the captain's quarters for myself, of course, but… why? The ship has a captain; the cabin is rightfully hers.
I passed my hand over the reading crystals of the door control panel, and the heavy, airtight bulkheads slid apart, revealing the commander of the Hippaforalkus.
"Any news?" I asked, glancing at the girl who slipped past me into the cabin. "Has Larrin made contact?"
"No, she's still in the same place," Trebal said, taking off her jacket. "And no, I'm not going to make a snide comment about you asking about one girl in front of another."
In a couple of seconds, she kicked off her boots and reached for the belt of her uniform trousers.
"Didn't you mix up the cabins by any chance?" I inquired.
"I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be," she said, the zipper squealing as she pulled it down. "Doing what I was supposed to do, and for quite a while now.
Lya-ya-ya-ya-a-a-a-a...
I'd bet she altered her uniform, and wears her trousers a size too small not because our supply of gear is poor.
The gray fabric of the trousers crumpled into a ball and flew into the corner, landing on top of the jacket. Showing off her sturdy, slightly wide hips, Trebal sent her shirt flying after the pants.
"Nice set," I said, looking at the thin strips of fabric digging into her athletic body a bit more than comfortable. People would call it "big-boned," but this kind of figure suited the Dorandan woman perfectly. Not an ounce of excess fat, a solid build… and I like it.
"Thanks," she tossed back. "Borrowed a few things from Teyla's wardrobe."
"Our leader of hunters and gatherers wears lace?"
"She's a young and beautiful woman!" the Ancient woman planted her hands on her hips reproachfully, rolled her high-top socks into a ball, and hurled them into the pile of her clothes like a grenade. "She has the right to give herself confidence however she wants. Including with beautiful underwear. Handmade, by the way. Costs a sack of wheat. And they don't wear it for just anyone!"
"A whole sack of wheat?" I smirked.
"Yes, and we have an hour and a half before we drop out of hyperspace and possibly engage an entire Nomad fleet," Trebal said impatiently, looking me up and down. "We could die from decompression, a direct enemy hit to the bridge, a reactor explosion, or any of fifty other reasons, listing which sounds nothing like a prelude. Do you need help getting undressed, or…?"
She said the last part while closing the distance between us in one long stride and placing her hands on me… in certain places.
"If you say that's your hand and you cut a hole in your pants pocket, I'm going to hit you," Trebal whispered in warning.
"It's not my hand," I agreed, looking at the beautiful girl radiating heat, youth, and desire. "Only… I have a feeling trouble awaits us if we do this."
The phrase in the style of Master Yoda drew a smirk from the girl.
"I promise I won't shout it through a megaphone when we get back," she whispered, bringing her lips close to mine. "Besides, it's nothing more than stress relief before a military operation and a supposedly superior enemy force. Nothing to be ashamed of."
"Or to hesitate about," I agreed, shrugging off my jacket.
"If you want, we can keep this a secret," she offered.
"You do know that the ship's internal sensors show that there are two people in the cabin, right?" When the neck of my shirt got stuck on my head, I nearly tore it to pieces. And I only realized I couldn't take my boots off the usual way by stepping on the heel after the third failed attempt. Damn primitive technology!
"Before I left the bridge, I turned on the private mode in the living quarters," Trebal whispered, touching my chest with her palm. "So no one knows how many people are in which cabins. The mode will turn off ten minutes before we exit hyperspace, but that's basic programming of the onboard computer — I have no control over that."
Running her hand over the contours of my muscles, the girl lowered her arms and swiftly dealt with my belt, button, and zipper.
Pulling them down, she demonstrated her displeasure at me holding on to the last piece of my clothing with my hands.
"Do I have to get on my knees in front of you?" she asked, anger in her voice. "Or do you beg for it in your religion? Misha, I literally can't hold back anymore. I've been tormenting myself the whole flight and…"
"Quiet," she obediently fell silent as my finger pressed across her lips. "What's happening here…"
"Nothing is happening here," she said, barely parting her lips.
"… must not affect our relationship or the common cause," I finished my thought. "If I find out you used what you planned to spite Chaya…"
A shadow crossed Trebal's face.
I know myself that I'm acting disgustingly. You don't talk about other women at moments like this… because at moments like this, you don't care about other women. Two opposites were fighting inside me right now — decency and honesty versus lust and frivolity.
Trebal's hand changed the spot it was touching on my body slightly. Ah, now this was both dangerous and pleasant at the same time.
"Now," she said with a slight huskiness, looking me straight in the eye. And there wasn't a trace of regret in her gaze. "Since I have a part of you in my hand, please repeat: did you want to say something to me about your other girlfriend? Just," she said quickly, seeing that I intended to open my mouth, "think carefully. So to speak, your future is in my hands. Descendants and all that…"
"What you're doing is beyond good and evil," I said, moving my hand from her face to the back of her neck. "This is… wrong."
"Then it's a good thing that at least one of the three of us has the courage to move from verbal gymnastics to actions," she practically growled in my face. "If the quiet one doesn't like something, she can always cry into her pillow. She's not a little girl, she'll figure it out. She's smart — she'll understand."
As for the last part… I think so, but…
And also, I think Trebal is right. The situation has been hanging in the air for too long. And it's my fault — instead of resolving it myself, I shamefully retreated, not wanting to offend anyone…
Only, under Trebal's tightly clenched fingers, I can feel that my body has already agreed with the method of resolving the situation.
"When we get back, we need to have a serious talk," I said, swallowing the lump in my throat.
"Do whatever you want," Trebal exhaled, relieving me of the rest of my clothes and slowly lowering herself to her knees in front of me. "But I promised you to de… liver. And I can't stand it when someone, even myself, breaks a promise."
An interesting statement, of course, only she's such a prim bitch, almost a prude… Oh, for the love of god, woman! Have you ever heard of a gag reflex?!
* * *
"Captain on the bridge!" Ihaar didn't shout it, but announced it in a tone as if it were something mundane, walking past the opening airtight doors of the Hippaforalkus's control room.
"Report!" Trebal demanded in her usual bitchy-displeased tone, tempered only by an inexplicable lightness in her step and a slightly mocking smile.
The girl slipped into the captain's chair in the middle of the bridge and rested her hand on the single armrest. Although, actually, this was also a control console for the primary functions of the ship's commander. Communication, taking over certain crew functions, and so on.
"Five minutes until we exit hyperspace," Ihaar reported, approaching the engineering console. "Engines, shields, impulse cannons, life support, reactors are running stable. The technician at the console reports the arsenal is ready for use on your command."
"What's on the scanners?" I inquired, settling into the chair to Trebal's left. There was another ship console in front of me, but at the moment it wasn't involved in directly controlling the systems. For convenience, its functions had been moved to another control panel, of which there were plenty on the bridge.
"Sixteen ships, all Nomad construction," Ihaar reported. "Most are moving rapidly within a small area of space. I assume there's maneuvering or a battle going on."
"How many of our tracking beacons are working?" I asked, sensing something bad.
Trebal, running her fingers over the buttons on her armrest, looked at the changing images on the nearest monitor.
"One beacon," she said. "The one installed on Asan's ship. But both subspace communicators are working. And one of them is outside the detected energy structures of the Nomad ships. The distance makes it impossible to determine exactly where the 'extra' communicator is."
But at the same time, there's still a chance that the Ancient dreadnought is intact. And that the second communicator is aboard it. However, without a working power plant, even at a minimal level, detecting it isn't so easy. And boosting our own forward sensors just to find out what we'll see with our own eyes in a couple of minutes is foolish. At the very least because reallocating energy to them would weaken the other sensors.
"Unusual," Ihaar remarked.
"No, it all fits within the framework of the most unpleasant theory," Trebal looked at me. "Larrin's ship is destroyed, but someone, possibly she, took the communicator and moved to another location."
"Probably," I assumed. "Can you bring the ship out of hyperspace as close as possible to that communicator? Adjusting for the size of the Ancient starship."
"It's not far from the exit point, which was oriented by the location of her beacon while it was transmitting a stable signal," Trebal closed her eyes for a moment. The light tunnel before us didn't change, but for an instant, it felt like the hum of the Hippaforalkus's mechanisms underfoot grew stronger. "Even if we wanted to, we can't get any closer without ramming one of these pieces of flying scrap. But soon after we exit hyperspace, we'll be within range of the teleportation chamber," she clicked the intercom control. "Arriving at the destination. Battle stations. Assault team, prepare for transport."
"We're ready," Teyla appeared in the doorway, accompanied by Kirik and Saya. All three were prepared for the sortie, properly equipped and armed. The cyborg was holding a spare load-bearing vest with gear that didn't belong to her. "Ihaar, we're only waiting for you."
The chief engineer, glancing at his workstation, took the load-bearing vest from the cyborg and began putting it on, along with the gear he had prepared himself. A scanner, spare crystals, wiring, and so on — everything necessary for field repairs of an Ancient ship.
Except spare parts. But, as I recall, from what I know of the events, the ship wouldn't have needed them anyway. At least, not to jump into hyperspace and get far away. After that, we could do a proper repair using the spare parts from the Aurora stored on the Hippaforalkus.
"At least they gave me a shield this time," he grumbled, clipping a blue crystal onto his chest under the polymer armor vest. "You definitely can't do without me this time?"
"No," I replied. "We go in, check the dreadnought's condition, take control of the bridge, trap the enemy, if any are on board, with the internal barriers, and leave. Thrabal," I looked at the girl in the captain's chair, "cover us with shields and impulse cannons. I hope you remember to use the projectiles only in extreme emergencies?"
"Perfectly well," she assured me. "And don't you forget — if there's a threat, get in the chair immediately and finish them off with the projectiles. You said there are more of them in this dreadnought's arsenal than we have."
"Enough for a battle with an entire fleet," I sighed, looking at my communicator. Like everyone in the assault team, it was linked to the Hippaforalkus's communication systems. As long as the ship has transmitters, we'll be able to hear each other. "And, I'm asking you. First, offer them to disperse."
"Saying a few kind words from me won't hurt," the girl assured me. "But I can't promise how they'll behave."
"No need. Just try to disable their ships, not blow them up," I asked, waving for the group to move towards the teleportation chamber. "Anyone who wants to kill us, fire to kill. Kirik, you can put away the Wraith stunner."
Regarding the Nomad soldiers who might be on board the Ancient dreadnought, the order was simple and straightforward.
"I'm more comfortable with it," the former "runner" assured me, holding the Wraith paralyzing pistol in his hand.
He, like Ihaar, carried firearms, but both preferred to use non-lethal weapons as their primary. The first relied on the Wraith stunner, the second on the Ancient electroshock weapon.
"Ihaar, Kirik, Saya — you're on the engines and generators. Teyla and I will take control of the bridge. Kirik, you're in charge of your group."
During the flight, we managed to run several "practice" operations in the corridors of the Hippaforalkus. Without shooting, of course, just studying the fastest routes to our objectives.
"Order understood," the cyborg reported, taking her assault rifle with an extended magazine off safe. "Are there identification signals for allied forces?"
A question that had stumped me from the start. Because besides Larrin and Nevik, we didn't know any Nomads who might be on our side.
"Once we're on board the ship, I'll contact Larrin. If she and her people are there and alive, we'll know where they are and how to reach them."
"Orders in the event there are no allies?"
"Kill anyone who shoots at us. And cause as little damage inside the ship as possible," I asked.
"Engagement protocol accepted," Saya's blue eyes flashed as she let me and Teyla into the teleportation chamber first. Kirik's group followed us in, and they would exit first.
We could only hope the primary plan would work and that the teleportation chamber, part of the minimal power consumption systems, would actually be operational. As soon as we were within teleportation range, the dreadnought was supposed to receive a program written by Chaya from the Hippaforalkus's bridge. A code that would "jump-start" its generators and life support systems. For about ten to fifteen minutes, after which the onboard computer would switch to "Mutiny on the ship" mode and lock everyone behind the airtight doors, then go back into hibernation.
Unfortunately, that was the maximum we could do with a third-generation ship without first activating its key systems using the Ancient gene. According to Chaya's assumptions, even such interference might cause the ship to stop responding to our commands.
If it didn't work… Otherwise, we'd move to Plan B and fly out on a jumper.
"Maybe they'll be reasonable and not put up a fight," Teyla said hopefully.
The ship shuddered almost imperceptibly, indicating we had entered realspace.
"Thrabal," I addressed the girl over the radio. "What do we have?"
"A small civil war," the Dorandan woman sighed. "Raise shields, sublights to maximum, impulse cannons to battle stations! Open a general communication channel with all ships. My name is Thrabal, commander of the dreadnought Hippaforalkus, Atlantis Space Forces. We have come for our ship and will not leave without it. I demand an immediate ceasefire and that all ships clear my course. You have five minutes for hostile forces to vacate the Ancient warship. Otherwise, I will open fire to kill!"
"If that's 'saying a few kind words,' then I'm Atlantis's chief scientist," Ihaar grumbled, peering at the control panel of the dreadnought's transport chamber. On the touchscreen, only a schematic of the Hippaforalkus and a single red dot belonging to its own transport chamber, which we were in, were lit up.
"Come on, come on, come on," I muttered quietly, knowing that Chaya's program should have already been received by the ship's damaged transmitter. We're so close, even the short-range scanners…
"Spare you the details, I'll just say they refused," Trebal's voice came over the intercom. "Two allied ships made contact: Asan and someone named Katana. They claim Larrin's starship is destroyed and the remnants of her crew have retreated to the dreadnought, where they're being pinned down. Good luck. Broadside fire from impulse cannons on the approaching ship!"
The Hippaforalkus shuddered as the Nomad energy weapons' impact struck its shields. Not fatal, but it did affect the overall defense.
"It worked!" Ihaar pointed to the icon of a second dreadnought and a red dot for the transport chamber in its center appearing on the sensor screen. "Mikhail, are we going?"
"Move out," I ordered, taking my weapon off safe simultaneously with Teyla.
The chamber doors closed.
Light…
* * *
A couple of hundred years ago, the Endurance might have lived up to its name. As of right now…
"Shields at twenty percent!"
A shower of sparks made me wince — one of the auxiliary monitors had blown from overloads.
"Main maneuvering thrusters are not responding!" came a report. "Transferring power to auxiliaries!"
"Sublights are damaged, losing power! Rerouting power through secondary circuits!"
Their hopes were not to be fulfilled.
Eight ships against twenty… It was a fool's gamble from the very start.
After half an hour of fierce fighting, trading one of her ships for one of the enemy's — which would have been excellent luck, if they were Wraith ships — Larrin evacuated her flagship due to a reactor going critical. Former friends know where to shoot on each other's ships.
In the next ten minutes, the battle turned into a slaughter. Two more ships from each side were lost before Larrin's other two supporters surrendered and left the battlefield on the Council's orders.
After that, only his Endurance and Captain Labrea's Swift remained. The latter's starship, possessing the best hyperdrive and the most high-quality sublights, delivered swift, almost surgical strikes against the ships of their former comrades, while the Endurance tried to leverage its superior shields.
But everyone understood that this battle was lost the moment it began. However, both allies simply couldn't escape anymore, having taken catastrophic damage to their hyperdrive power systems. Communication systems and hyperdrives were among the first to be damaged, so neither Larrin nor Asan could even call the Lantians for help.
Larrin had the idea of trying to connect her communicator to the damaged communication system of the Ancient dreadnought while defending it from capture by the Council's forces. But Asan understood that this was just desperate faith that the Lantians hadn't released them without tracking the location of their potential allies.
He himself was now hoping that Kaspar's story about the beacon on the hull was true… even though the mechanics hadn't been able to fully inspect the hull during the layover.
And now, with the numerous enemy forces having cornered them and nearly surrounded them near the Ancient dreadnought, all that was left was to order the ship abandoned and join Larrin and the remnants of her crew in a desperate attempt…
Then a greenish flash of a hyperspace window cut through the blackness of space.
And a warship from Atlantis appeared on the battlefield…
For a moment, the Nomad ships stopped firing as information about the arrival of another vessel appeared on their monitors. It took a second to realize that the starship's signature didn't match Nomad technology.
Nor did this visitor belong to the Wraiths.
Then, on the bridges of every single Nomad ship, the now-familiar hologram of Captain Trebal appeared. And her words sounded, instilling in him and Katana the confidence that today they would not have to say goodbye to their crews and their starships.
The gamble on the Lantians' cunning had paid off.
Their dreadnought with the hard-to-pronounce name had arrived to take its crippled brother home.
The Hippaforalkus emerges from hyperspace.
Perhaps it would have been better for Mikhail, or one of the other men, to issue that demand. Despite any conventions, in Nomad society, women, though only slightly, are lower than male captains.
And what Trebal said… It was effectively humiliating them.
Or perhaps that's exactly what she was aiming for.
The Council's starships, detaching three ships to confront the Swift and the Endurance, began maneuvering, unleashing a hurricane of red energy bolts at the Lantian vessel.
And the Lantian ship answered.
No fewer than a dozen twin-gun turrets from the Ancient ship's side opened fire on the Nomad starships trying to surround it. Relentlessly, with terrifying power, the Lantian ship's cannons punched through the shields of the Endurance's counterparts in four or five hits.
The swarm of starships that had descended upon the newcomer from Atlantis turned out to be not a pack of predators, but the prey. As soon as the Hippaforalkus passed through their formation, moving to link up with the besieged Swift and Endurance, three of the thirteen attacking Nomad ships were left drifting aimlessly in its wake.
Asan, commanding his own ship, dodging crossfire with his comrades, felt no shame in watching the battle through the only side porthole on the bridge.
The sight was worth it.
And this was before the Lantian ship had even launched its main weapon — the homing projectiles.
In an instant, Asan understood the essence of Larrin's hope for securing and protecting the colony with the power of that ship they had failed to obtain.
And the hollowness inside from knowing they would never have it was all the bitterer for it.