"Observers on the planet report that the gate has activated," the junior Smart One reported to another.
"Who came through?" the other immediately asked.
"One of our Arrows," the subordinate reported. "From the last group. Genetic marker matches."
"Only one?" the senior Smart One sensed something wrong.
"Yes. Heavily damaged. The pilot reports he is fleeing pursuit."
"Who is piloting it?"
"The Hive Commander, the Demon."
The senior Smart One fell silent, thinking over what was said.
Something was happening.
Something so far outside the Wraiths' conception of military operations that out of half a thousand fighters in various squadrons sent to a planet one and a half thousand light-years from their location, only the Demon had returned.
Of all the Arrows — only one, and that one damaged.
How many blades had perished, several Smart Ones... He didn't count soldiers — they were a consumable resource.
But without a queen, it would be difficult to renew their population. Yes, they still had strength to fight, and the Hive Ship had almost recovered. All that remained was to heal the corridors and restore the hull in several places, after which they would be combat-ready again.
Half a day, no more.
But it was quite possible that they would need the full power of the Hive Ship much sooner than it might seem.
The senior Smart One pondered.
If the Demon was alone and fleeing pursuit, then most likely he had lost all his assistants and blades. Not of his own will — the enemy was probably stronger. Possibly, the Scavenger himself had lured them into a trap.
And if that was the case, then a unique opportunity opened before him...
"Direct energy to restore these sections," he ordered the subordinate, pointing at specific red marks on the ship's diagram. "They must be restored first."
"The Hive Commander ordered otherwise," the junior Smart One reminded.
"We have extraordinary circumstances," the senior Smart One bared his teeth, demonstrating his authority over the subordinate. "Soon the Demon will be on board, and such initiative will be most timely..."
And it would also help him become the Hive Commander's assistant. Which was rare among Smart Ones.
A marker flashed and disappeared on the main screen.
"What happened?" the senior Smart One worried, stepping away from the energy flow control console and approaching the one responsible for the scanners.
In front of it stood a soldier, a dumb but necessary tool for managing systems in the absence of a full crew.
The soldier turned his impassive mask toward him. The senior Smart One entered his mind with the slightest effort.
He himself had not managed to notice the marker on the monitor, but the soldier had seen everything.
The sensors detected and immediately lost an energy flare characteristic of the opening of a hyperspace window. And that meant they had guests.
The strange thing was that the Hive systems did not detect the ship itself. Possibly it had been destroyed upon exiting hyperspace, possibly it had been thrown light-years away due to a malfunctioning hyperdrive or stabilizers.
Or perhaps the ship's sensors, in hibernation, simply could not correctly interpret what they had detected. Were they malfunctioning?
They should not be.
Something was happening here.
Probably, the Scavenger had set a hunt on them.
Need to act.
"The Commander is requesting a corridor for landing," the junior Smart One interrupted his thoughts. At the same time, the soldier, whose mind the senior had left on the Wraith ship, returned to fulfilling his duties — watching the scanners.
"Open the small hangar," the Smart One ordered. "And prepare the ship for battle. Dispatch all the Arrows we have left for patrolling around the Hive Ship. Whatever is happening here, we will be ready."
* * *
Okay, suppose he had been too hasty with the thought that piloting Wraith Arrows was simple enough.
Most likely that was true, but not when the fighter was heavily damaged, its fuel lines about to burst from the colossal pressure created by organic analogues of pumps.
But the Arrow was fully fulfilling its task.
Namely — delivering him and his cargo straight aboard the Hive Ship.
Alvar did not feel too comfortable in this rigid cradle. No, without a spacesuit, of course, everything here was comfortable and ergonomic. But it seemed the enemy did not use spacesuits.
He valued his own life, so he had to be overly cautious.
He already saw the hull of the Hive Ship, as close as never before. And most likely, no human had ever managed to do anything like this before.
A Wraith Hive Ship.
On the enormous hull, several indentations were already visible, ending in massive growths.
"These must be the hangar doors," Alvar muttered, holding the vibrating control stick.
A Wraith Arrow.
He glanced at the chronometer.
A little over a minute had passed since he sent the request-command-demand-notification or whatever it was called among the Wraiths, to have his Arrow launched aboard the ship.
And he still hadn't received a response or any action that could be interpreted to mean that the Hive Commander's subordinates had interpreted it correctly.
Maybe Teyla was wrong about the interpretation of the order?
Maybe the translator in the system translated incorrectly?
Maybe the Wraiths had staged a mutiny to eliminate their commander? Well, the latter could be understood if they had been shooting at him.
But now...
The rectangular growth-doors began to slowly part in his path.
Alvar exhaled with relief.
And at the same moment, he nearly screamed in surprise and fear.
From the landing aperture of the hangar he was approaching, a stream of Arrows poured out. Five, ten, fifteen, twenty...
At twenty-five, he lost count.
The suddenness of what happened was so stunning that he realized — if they decided to attack, the Ermen wouldn't even have time to press the trigger on the control stick and activate the onboard weapon. And maneuvering was out of the question — this Arrow was holding together solely on sheer luck, prayers, and a ton of glue.
But the Arrows passed around him like a river flows around a stone standing in its path. And they did not try to close ranks behind his stern, as far as he could see. That meant the jumpers with the landing party were fine.
Alvar pulled himself together.
Everything is fine.
Everything according to plan.
It was anticipated that the launch of Arrows from the hangar could be one of those things that were supposed to happen when both parts of the plan started to act.
Better this way than the ship fully awakening and starting to fire in all directions.
And then he lost control.
As soon as the Arrow crossed the hangar threshold, it stopped responding to his commands. It stopped obeying the controls, but it wasn't due to any malfunction.
The ship switched to autopilot, just as a jumper does when it finds itself before the gate or returns to Atlantis.
Mikhail had warned about this.
Alvar felt himself break into a sweat.
Yes, they hadn't prepared him for this on Ermen.
He felt like he was flying through a huge cosmic intestine, although he had assumed the landing zone would start right after the threshold. But no, here everything was far more 'interesting'.
It seemed the Wraiths didn't have an atmospheric field or anything similar that could separate the hangar from the vacuum without losing atmosphere. Instead of a shield, they had an 'intestine'. The Arrow responded to various radiations, barely noticeable but still present.
And he understood what was happening.
The 'intestine' was that very atmospheric magnetic field. But so weak that preventing decompression required a large space, the length of the weak magnetic field. And that field was precisely projected in the 'intestine'.
He suddenly remembered that Wraith ships were organic. And the 'intestine' could very well be... Oh, no, he didn't even want to think about something like that.
Meanwhile, the 'intestine' passed. The Arrow entered a space that was actually the hangar.
Enormous, dome-shaped, pitted with many small platforms or recesses, it resembled the dwelling of some beetles or insects. Alvar shook his head, tearing himself away from contemplating the scene outside through the corrected version of the Wraith interface.
The hangar of the Wraith Hive Ship.
He liked what he saw above himself. No, not this pink-violet dome with holes and bulges, resembling the palate of a sick person.
Rather, the cockpit canopy, which in the first version of the Arrow in Atlantis's arsenal remained opaque and was only covered with Wraith patterns and writings. Chaya had improved the interface program, and now, black on the outside, the protective canopy of Atlantis's Arrows was completely transparent from the inside. This allowed seeing everything around him.
And the additional notes in his native language on the inside of the canopy, along with the transformed control panel, allowed him to feel like he was in the pilot's seat of an Ermen Interceptor. Well, except that monitors the size of a cockpit canopy were something new for him.
The control panel beeped.
Alvar noticed the inscription on the tiny display: "Materialize cargo?" Yes, Mikhail had warned about this too. Now, obviously, he was approaching one of the unloading zones... Not that he cared where to do it.
Jensen activated the materialization key.
He didn't see it with his own eyes, but at the same time he could imagine how it happened. And not only thanks to the interface.
Under the belly of the Arrow, a cone of light formed, resembling a stream of purest water. It touched something below, and on the monitor, the indicator showing the presence of cargo in the collection beam buffer disappeared.
Well, the first part of the operation was complete.
He had managed to break aboard the ship, he had clearly led the landing party behind him, they had provoked the Wraiths to launch their Arrows, thereby further reducing the number of enemy crew on board.
And he had delivered a 'surprise'. Now it was time to start for real.
Alvar was already prepared for the fact that as soon as his Arrow stopped, three familiar Wraith soldier faces of the same type appeared outside. And one pale blue face in a dark coat.
"Open the cockpit," the autopilot's demand read.
"No problem," Alvar replied, touching the necessary button with his elbow.
"Commander, I greet you..." the slits of the Wraith's eyes narrowed the moment he saw a man in an Ermen combat suit before him.
He didn't get to finish.
Behind and below, an explosion echoed deafeningly throughout the hangar. The Wraith, unlike Alvar, didn't know it was nothing more than a bomb that had just vaporized several landing platforms and walkways, along with the soldiers who had come to collect the prize delivered by their 'commander'.
"Good day, we're from Atlantis," the voice modulator of the Ermen's helmet replied. And the next moment, his Frequency Gun struck all four.
The air was torn by the piercing screech of some bird — the Wraiths had turned on the alarm signal. Several adjacent doors burst open, admitting a total of six Wraith soldiers who rushed to the scene of the explosion.
All as expected.
The soldiers never understood how fire was opened on them from thin air. But Jensen, behind whom a camouflaged jumper had already lowered its ramp, disembarking a dozen Athosians onto the deck, knew the secret.
"Second squad — entering," he reported, crossing the line of the open door leading from the hangar into the depths of the Hive Ship. Next in the squad, the Ancient technician checked a map on his scanner, guiding Jensen's group to the nearest information console.
There were such on every deck of a cruiser, most likely there were such ones on the Hive Ship too.
Yes, so it turned out. The technician instantly found the necessary part of the Wraith console, pried it open with a sharp combat knife, and connected to the vein-like strands of the Hive Ship's wiring.
"Done," he reported, disconnecting. "The airlocks are locked, the hangar is disconnected from the Hive Ship's main network. They won't be able to control it from the bridge."
"Fifth squad has landed and is ready to provide cover," reported Kirik. Their task was simple and simultaneously complex — to hold the hangar and the ships from Atlantis at any cost. The squad was the smallest, considering that it also included pilots.
Involving the latter in an assault mission would have been a great stupidity.
Atlantis already had few pilots capable of operating even jumpers. All capable of more had been moved to the battleships, and one person remained on Atlantis as a backup just in case.
"First squad has entered," reported Kaspar Fry. "We've obtained the starship's map. Moving toward the stasis pods."
"Third squad has entered," said Saya's cold and emotionless voice, uttering words just as in the background shots from weapons sounded on the air. "We've got the map, heading to the hyperdrive."
"Fourth squad is in action," responded Mikhail. "Moving toward the bridge."
Alvar moved quickly, but he never for a second forgot that under his command were eight rookies, as well as one technician. And the life of the latter, why hide it, was far more valuable than anyone in the squad.
Including the Ermen himself.
He had been prepared for the Ancient to be a burden, but to his surprise, the guy around twenty years old hadn't lagged behind even on training, and in a combat situation he didn't whine, didn't complain, and generally moved quietly.
His barely audible commands about where to turn, where to wait while he opened the consoles, his springy gait, the quite skillful holding of a scanner in one hand and a pistol in the other, aroused certain suspicions.
The very fact that without reminders he didn't point his weapon at his teammates commanded respect. He wasn't a milksop-scientist, but a quite competent research worker ready for field work.
"You're from Kirik's training group, aren't you?" asked Alvar as they stopped at another door that the Ancient was opening.
"Yes," he replied. "I thought it necessary to train combat skills, not just do science or tech. After all, this galaxy is ten thousand years ahead of us. And who knows what we might encounter on field missions."
"Field missions?" Alvar was surprised. "I thought we only had one reconnaissance team. And it includes Ihaar."
"He's in everything," the technician smiled slightly. "But no, I was thinking of suggesting to Sar to create several reconnaissance teams. That way we could be present on several planets at once. All we'd need is to include one trained technician in each group, capable of figuring out the technology we might find. Well," he got a little embarrassed, "or at least not blow it up."
"Yes, that would be useful," Alvar agreed.
Indeed, there was a kernel of logic here.
Atlantis could be restored over centuries — the city was enormous, and even three hundred experienced technicians wouldn't repair it all at once. Even if they had spare parts.
But if at least a few technicians, capable of figuring out discovered technology on the spot or hacking Wraith equipment, were in several reconnaissance teams... Then yes, that was very interesting.
"We'll need to tell Chaya or Mikhail about this when we get back," said Alvar.
"Exactly, and... Done," the technician raised a fist in the air at the very moment when a bulkhead, resembling some kind of film with ribs, slid aside.
Jensen looked at him with interest.
The guy had clearly also learned the sign language of Ermen's combat groups, which Alvar himself had taught Kirik. Since they worked for the same cause, in the same team, exchange of experience and knowledge should be present.
The technician showed three fingers, then, checking his scanner monitor, pointed in the direction beyond the bulkhead he still hadn't crossed.
A corridor on the Hive Ship.
So, two enemies at the one o'clock direction and one at two o'clock. The technician hides behind a console at the opposite wall of the corridor, the Athosians cover the rear and the side corridors behind them, with two fighters per each path from which Wraiths could come. And Alvar himself, along with a pair of fighters, was now aiming to proceed inside.
It seemed the technician had caught the life signals of the Wraiths the moment he opened the door. Too bad not sooner, otherwise they wouldn't have heard the rumble of fast footsteps — the Wraiths were approaching.
Good, we can work with this.
A Frequency Gun appeared in the technician's hands, the same as Alvar's. They exchanged glances and communicated with signs.
The first to die was the Wraith approaching from the two o'clock direction.
The technician sprang out from behind the console like lightning and with one shot sent the Wraith soldier into oblivion. Then he immediately found himself behind an improvised cover.
Two other soldiers, coming from one o'clock, appeared in view with weapons at the ready. Naturally, they oriented their Stunners toward the console, correctly identifying where the threat to their comrade had come from.
And so Alvar easily and effortlessly managed to kill both.
The Athosians, armed with Ermen weapons, had not yet entered the fight — in the confined spaces of the Hive Ship, it would have been a waste of ammunition on such a trifle as two or three Wraiths.
"Clear," reported the technician.
"Forward," Alvar ordered, hearing lively gunfire in the corridors of the Wraith ship. "Second squad, we hear shooting."
"This is First squad!" Fry's voice rang out in the earpiece. In the background, deafening shots from Frequency Guns sounded. "We have problems! Falling back!"
"Mikhail..." Alvar started.
"We're at the bridge already," he replied. "Move to help them, we'll manage."
"You don't understand!" the Nomad shouted. "We all have problems!"
"Multiple signals!" the technician suddenly reported.
"Where?"
"Everywhere!" the Ancient's eyes widened. "Stasis pods deactivated, the Wraiths are awake!"
Fifty people against several hundred Wraith soldiers on the Hive Ship. And this day had started so well!
* * *
As soon as she found herself on the other side, a wave of despair and panic washed over her.
The jumper moved by inertia, deploying its main engines and rushing forward.
The feeling of guilt that gripped her was so overwhelming that the ship activated its cloak, thinking she sensed a threat.
Chaya jerked the control stick to the side, turning the ship. Her hand reached for the dialing device...
What had she just done?
Abandoned the city she was responsible for? With a minimum of personnel, in the midst of an operation taking place at the other end of the galaxy?!
And all she had done was leave a chain of pieces that would help find her... No, not a chain... A trail of crumbs — that's what Mikhail called it. Stupid and unreasonable to waste food to ensure the safety of one's escape route...
And it was even more stupid and unreasonable to do what she was doing!
Her gaze caught a prominent inscription in Lantian: "DO NOT pass through the gate with active cloak." A warning for those dimwits who think that cloaking is reliable protection.
Chaya shuddered, remembering how some overconfident pilots, fleeing from Wraiths, still kept the cloak on the ship while passing through the gate.
None of them came out the other side. At least not in one piece.
The physics of hyperspace is merciless to anyone who intends to consider themselves smarter than the laws of the universe.
"Trying to appear smarter than you are is a one-way street."
That's what Moros told her when she begged him and the Council to make the Proculucians one of the Lesser Races. Naturally, nothing came of it.
And the rest of her life she dedicated to ensuring the safety of her people. Desperate actions leading now to one calamity, now to another.
And even what is happening now is a direct continuation of her fears.
If she hadn't feared that Mikhail would prefer the more developed Dorandans over her, she would have gone with him to the Aurora. And she could have done more there than anyone else had. At the very least, she could have deactivated the subspace distress signal. And there would have been no danger from the Wraiths.
There would have been no crazy race against fate that they'd had these last months. The anticipation of the coming battle with the Wraith Alliance under the command of the Scavenger... No one would have ever known anything about them!
Although no, they certainly would have found out, but... much later.
And the Alliance itself wouldn't have existed—the Scavenger wouldn't have found the damaged Hive of the Cunning Blade, wouldn't have been able to obtain the queen, the power... Yes, the Ancients in this galaxy are always in danger...
But if she had been even a little more foresighted, the danger would have been minimal.
Talos... The Scavenger on Talos.
One of the first Ancient settlements in this galaxy.
And not just a settlement—one of the Lesser Races once lived there, more developed than the Dorandans. Could they have had technology that would provide a Superhive with proper sustenance? Quite possibly.
Chaya had run many models, trying to understand what their chances were if it all started again... Not great.
But if there was a means to stop the Wraiths, save Atlantis and the Ancients... They would never take off under fire from even a couple of Hive Ships. There simply wasn't enough power from a single ZPM.
And even the drilling rig wouldn't help.
And if a Superhive, even minimally powered by Ancient generators, were against them... They wouldn't fight it off.
Her hand froze over the dialing device, ready to enter the last symbol of Atlantis's address. The scanners are clean, the cloak is off, all she had to do was lower her palm and open the gate, return to the city...
They might need her at any moment, at any time... The only scientist on all of Atlantis...
Or she could continue on her path and do what she had planned. Obtain the necessary means. And answers...
The cargo bay became bright.
So bright she had to cover her eyes. No alarm signals, not the slightest hint of decompression, short circuit...
"Oh, come on," a woman's voice rang out. "It's not that blinding."
Chaya looked at the figure in white robes, who seemed to be woven from light itself. A figure that shouldn't be here.
"You're forbidden..." she murmured.
"There's always time while others are busy saving this galaxy," the Lantian woman said in a matter-of-fact tone, sinking into the chair opposite her. "Well, what's the matter, Chaya Sar? Stopped? Time to return home."
"My home is Atlantis," the girl snapped. "I... They need me!"
"This has all happened before," Ganos Lal smiled, making the Proculucian's blood run cold. "You've said that many times. But it hasn't led to success. You don't belong among mortals. It's time to Ascend again, my girl."