From the very beginning, we all knew the plan wouldn't be perfect. A Hive Ship Alabaster as bait for an entire Scavenger fleet was too much.
Styx was clearly up to something. Because flying ten ships after just one was exceedingly stupid. Not to mention that, supposedly, potential allies were lying in wait for him here, weren't they?
In the form of a Hive, Wraith soldiers, and a groveling Smart One who had promised him Ancients and Teyla as an incubator. Finding this out wasn't that hard — all it took was locking him in a Stasis Pod with Saya for two hours.
Well, and after each torture, rolling everything back, pretending nothing had happened and all his limbs were still intact. Again, and again, and again...
Frankly, when Alabaster discovered and transmitted to us the data from her new ship, including the recording of the Smart One's negotiations with the Scavenger in the Hive Ship's onboard computer, continuing the torture was pointless. But we continued, because the scientist's head contained interesting thoughts that hadn't been entered into any computer.
However, all that was a minor issue.
The Scavenger was clearly over-insuring. Most likely, he assumed the Ancients wouldn't leave a Hive Ship that had captured their kind alone. So he decided to descend with all his forces, both to retrieve the captured Ancients and, if necessary, to capture the battleship. Logically, there had to be a ZPM on board, right?
For his Superhive, the prisoners, the ZPM, and the battleship would not just be a boost — they would be a coveted prize that would allow him to subjugate the other Wraith. And cause a mountain of problems for Atlantis.
That's why Plan B was developed, where only some of our forces would engage if things went wrong from the start. Not that anyone even considered that Styx could pull off the trick he actually pulled, but we were expecting dirty tricks. Just more predictable ones.
But the fact that the Hippaforalkus would let us down at the most crucial moment was unexpected. Had I known in advance it was so fragile, I would have definitely gone on the Ares, leaving Trebal in reserve.
And it was precisely because the Ancient battleship failed us due to our own oversight that everything was put in danger. And yes, I blamed only myself for the failure of Plan A. Because who else was there to blame for not accounting for everything when planning my own operation?
The situation had become a "Couldn't get any worse" series. Styx's three ships still hadn't arrived, and on our active side: the Endurance, with no shields and hull damage, leaking atmosphere and forced to withdraw from battle; the Swift, which had lost its engines, its reactor had to be emergency-shutdown, and the crew was fighting Wraith boarding parties that had landed; we had lost the Hive Ship Alabaster — she had moved her ship, whose restoration wasn't even worth thinking about, into the line of fire to allow the Hippaforalkus's weapons system automation to keep functioning as long as possible.
Naturally, the Wraith shot that Hive Ship to pieces. Naturally, the Lantean battleship's impulse cannons managed to excessively thin out the enemy's remaining "Arrows" and give one of the enemy cruisers a serious beating. Battered and losing atmosphere, it had now withdrawn to the rear of the main Wraith forces.
The fact that the enemy had broken into the open hangar bay doors of the Hippaforalkus during the evacuation frankly didn't please me. Even the fact that both of our surviving "Arrows," piloted by Alvar and Kirik, followed them in, and that a shuttle from the destroyed Hive Ship Alabaster also went there, didn't change the situation.
Saya could kill every Wraith she found. But as soon as the Wraith got tired of losing soldiers, they could simply destroy the battleship.
Plus, they had plenty of "Arrows" to find our jumpers. According to the plan, in case of evacuation, the jumpers were supposed to fly to the still-active gates on the planet and try to escape from there, saving themselves.
And, as far as I knew, almost everyone had succeeded in that.
Trebal, Fray, and a few Nomads and Athosians who had been on the ship as anti-boarding teams were missing. A small consolation was that Ihaar had managed to return to Atlantis with not only himself and the technical staff, but also the battleship's ZPM.
I learned this via subspace communication with the city at the very moment when a shot from a Wraith cruiser, intended for the Hippaforalkus's bridge, was absorbed by the middle section of the Ares's shield. It seemed the enemy thought the first battleship's impulse cannons were controlled by crew members, not an onboard computer.
"We're in position!" Larren's voice came through the intercom from the bridge. "Shields are holding, impulse cannons engaging targets. I've sent half our soldiers to the Hippaforalkus for defense..."
"You did good," I muttered, leaning back in the Control Chair.
The monitor with scanner data before my eyes reflected the entire picture of what was happening.
Including the arrival of the three "latecomers."
Didn't matter.
I just didn't care anymore who found out what and what they thought. The Scavenger could kill my people, my woman, capture or destroy my ship, finish off my allies. Mine.
And for attacks on what's yours, you have to hit three times harder than for protecting what's someone else's — so they won't even think of encroaching again.
I don't need a monitor.
The Ares and I are one.
And the treacherous god of war has no objection to avenging the battle wounds inflicted on his "brother."
Let's go, you life-suckers. Projectiles — your cue.
* * *
Styx experienced confusion only the second time in his life.
The first — when he received a name that least suited a Smart One. But suited a blade very well indeed. And even the explanation that his mind was capable of creating instruments of death that killed more than all the blades of the Night Clan in which he was born, hadn't completely erased that feeling from his consciousness.
Now, when the core of his fleet had arrived at the destination point, confusion stirred in his memory and returned to him.
"Commander," an assistant addressed Styx. "The Demon Hive has been destroyed, we are launching Arrows and..."
"Where did the second Lantean ship come from?" Styx asked. "Why this particular ship?"
He could not fail to recognize the unique energy signature of the second Lantean battleship's engines.
This very ship was the reason for the destruction of the core of the Night Clan's forces before they set out to destroy the Lantians.
A lone Lantean battleship that could not have withstood the combined might of the forces it encountered at the course correction point.
Styx remembered it as vividly as if it had happened yesterday.
The Queen of Death had demanded that reserves from among the Superhives and Hive Ships at her disposal be delivered to the Lantean System. They had to leave an important object unguarded, using its power source to supply the Superhive with energy.
Young, growing Superhives that had barely begun their changes and improvements, accompanied by their escort, emerged from hyperspace to correct their course, allowing the organic component of the ships to repair hull damage...
The lone Lantean battleship lying in wait for them did not cause any serious concern. The formation commander considered its appearance a good sign — it meant the Lantians had no other forces left to ensure Atlantis's safety. And by destroying or capturing this battleship, they would elevate the Night Clan even further above the other Wraith clans.
Streams of energy shots from the Wraith rained down on the ship moving to intercept. The Hive Ships and Superhives spared no energy; "Arrows" left their hangars, ready to land troops inside the ship as soon as its shields were down.
Styx was the first to sense something was wrong.
Back then just a senior Smart One, he focused on the results of scanning the enemy to understand why the Lantean battleship's shields hadn't been breached yet, as expected.
The Lantean battery on board the ship was not detected, as the shield strength was incomparably weaker than it should have been in such a situation. But significantly stronger than on other ships without a battery that they had fought.
The commander of the young Superhive was delighted by how the enemy repeatedly launched streams of its deadly projectiles, destroying the Arrows piloted by Wraith soldiers. It was from this commander that Styx learned the simple tactic of first sending in Arrows with soldiers as pilots.
Inefficient, but at the same time sufficient to deprive the Lantians of at least part of their terrifying weaponry.
But the enemy's projectiles seemed endless. And its shields kept holding, despite each Hive Ship of the Night Clan operating at full power.
And when both sides had closed in enough, the Lantean warship launched a true attack.
Its energy cannons, unlike the Wraith's weapons, were mobile and could strike in any direction within their assigned zone. And they were also incredibly powerful and deadly.
Just like the Lantean projectiles themselves.
The ships of the Night Clan were destroyed one after another. Attempts to regroup, avoid battle, or flee from the enemy led to nothing good.
This battleship, with its strange energy signature, like a Wraith in a pen with frightened animals, was conducting a massacre the likes of which hadn't been seen since the first battles of the war between the Lantians and the Wraith.
And all their accumulated experience in countering straightforward Lantean tactics now proved completely useless.
The Night Clan's starships were dying. A chain of projectiles penetrating the first Superhive resulted in a blinding flash and energy release. The detonation cost the lives of the nearest Wraith and their vessels.
Hive Ships died one after another, the "Arrows" could barely do anything about it because both the impulse cannons and the Lantean projectiles were exterminating them. The Night Clan's fleet was rapidly losing ships.
The commander of his Superhive ordered a ramming attack on the enemy starship to destroy it during the detonation. That would mean death for thousands of Wraith on board the ship.
And it wouldn't solve the problem if the enemy had more such battleships.
That's when Styx killed the crazed commander.
The powerful and experienced blade never even understood how his head came to be severed from his body. The crew was confused; he had to kill a few more before he could take command himself.
But by then it was too late.
Ninety percent of the Night Clan's reinforcements were already a memory. All reserves except for a few ships, including his own Superhive which had only just begun to develop and adapt the Lantean battery for its own needs.
And then he implemented his plan.
It was dangerous and stupid, but the Smart One had no other chance to save his own life. He disregarded his own safety protocols and fed more power from the Lantean battery.
This bought him a little time, sending the remaining ships on a suicide mission against the killer battleship.
One Hive Ship went for a ram and was destroyed the moment the Lantean starship realized what was happening. Its debris and the flash of the explosion gave Styx a momentary chance.
And he took advantage of the sacrifice of his kin. His ship received energy, changing literally before his eyes, rapidly depleting its power reserves. But at the same time, it was gaining the strength to face the killer battleship on equal terms.
The Superhive unleashed all its fire on the stern shields and even breached them. As well as, subsequently, breaching many other compartments, causing explosions in the enemy ship's outer sections.
He was firmly convinced that the damaged engines and reactors would prevent the enemy from fighting any further.
And they did.
The killer battleship fled into hyperspace. And never, anywhere, appeared again until the end of the war. The Queen of Death was enraged that all her reserves had been needed to fight this monster.
She was even more furious that the swift (and incorrect) transformation of the ship had consumed a huge amount of energy from the battery. But at the same time she favored Styx for preserving their last hope for an advantage. The last Superhive passed under his command, and the Queen accepted him into her inner circle as an equal.
Moreover, she made him her consort, lay with him… But since the Superhive's modifications were still incomplete, throwing this ship into battle against Atlantis would have been foolish. Styx said this. The last Blade Commander spoke of it.
And the Queen of Death agreed with both of them, not subjecting the most obvious target of Atlantis to risk. She took away its cruiser from the dangerous Blade, deprived of her will's name, and led her troops into the last attack of her life.
And they never saw each other again.
But now the Assassin Battleship had returned.
"Commander!" from an assistant's raised voice. "Two of our cruisers are destroyed, the Hive Ship is weaponless and losing atmosphere, our forces are turning to strike the newly arrived enemy starship."
"No!" Styx barked. "Direct all available Darts except the reserve at the enemy ships. Plot a retreat course for the Superhive! Concentrate fire on the damaged battleship—the second ship is here to protect it."
"Commander, we need to destroy the threat, not a cripple and..."
Wheezing, the assistant grabbed his throat, from which black blood gushed in a fountain. Styx, with a growl, showed the remaining assistants the bloodied blade of his dagger.
"Questions?" he asked.
"No, Commander," one of the younger Blades stepped forward. Too young, but ambitious enough to take what others feared. "Confirming fire on the first battleship."
"The second battleship is holding off our bombardment and moving mirror to our course," reported another Wraith.
"Hyperdrive charged to ninety-five percent!"
"Commander, we need to finish them!" unexpectedly another assistant, the third it seemed, appeared before Styx. "The second battleship's shield power has dropped to fifty percent, I sent Darts to ram and it bore fruit..." But he immediately fell to the deck with a blade sticking out of his back.
"Don't you dare question the commander's will!" the young first assistant threatened the others. "He knows how we must act to win!"
"We cannot win this battle!" Styx wanted to say, but remained silent, watching how the Assassin Battleship with shells and cannons destroyed dozens of Darts every second. And watched how easily it simultaneously released, along with shells and cannon salvos for intercepting small ships, streams of projectiles for destroying the large starships of his fleet.
And the trap was good. As were the jammer ships he had modernized, hiding ships from detection in hyperspace.
Styx was not going to risk the remnants of his fleet, his ships, to which he had transferred all the most competent Smart Ones and promising Blades, taking them from other Hives that he had chosen to sacrifice.
This battle was lost; the Assassin Battleship had lured him into a trap again.
But, as last time, it would not claim his life.
"Our cruiser is destroyed, Commander!" the new assistant's voice had no panic. Calm and focused. "The second Hive is damaged, the crew is evacuating on Darts..."
Styx looked at the main screen. Amid the markers and explanatory notes, it was clearly visible how hundreds upon hundreds of Wraith fighters were leaving the dying starships of his fleet's remnants.
They had only two Hive Ships left, damaged by the enemy so badly that it would be more merciful and sensible to finish them off themselves. Another cruiser was battered so badly it showed no signs of energy.
And the Assassin Battleship, turning, was coming at the Superhive.
Its shells and pulse cannons silently incinerated hundreds of Styx's Hive Darts in the vacuum. And, as if that were not enough, they descended upon the Superhive itself.
The enormous, but insufficiently powered and therefore sluggish, starship shuddered as the brightest yellow lights and beams began to gnaw through its hull.
Styx felt a shade of pleasure that the Assassin Battleship was no longer able to pierce the grown Superhive as easily as it had with the young ones ten thousand years ago.
But at the same time he saw how the enemy's shells flew into the gun embrasures on the starboard side and detonated inside.
On the ship's schematic, a chunk of the starboard side literally vaporized during another salvo. And with it, all artillery in that part of the ship disappeared.
"A window into hyperspace has opened!" reported the youngest assistant. "Accelerating..."
Styx felt the Superhive lurch forward.
And the next moment the ship literally slammed into an invisible wall.
Those who couldn't hold on tumbled to the floor.
"What happened?!" Styx demanded, back on his feet.
"The second battleship blew up our hyperdrive!" confusion and alarm appeared on the young first assistant's face. "Its cannons are destroying our maneuvering thrusters, and shells are punching through the internal decks from one side to the other."
"It intends to cut us to pieces!" Styx realized, baring his teeth in grim foreboding. "Crew, listen to my command!"
* * *
Knocking a Stunner from a Wraith's hand, Kirik swept its legs. The enemy soldier crashed onto its back and the same moment a scarlet charge from the Frequency Gun hit its mask.
Paralyzing.
Although the former Runner would have preferred to kill the enemies, a few hours of stunning was also fine. After all, they had lost almost all the ships they had counted on. And that meant losing the Wraiths that could have been useful for resurrecting the Aurora's crew.
Even though the commander hadn't ordered it, the former Runners acted at their own discretion. Any other way was simply impossible aboard a Lantean ship swarming with Wraiths.
The Hippaforalkus was badly damaged, that was a fact. Almost the entire crew had abandoned it, but the starship was still powered on. Which meant a single mission for two hardened daredevils under communications problems: reach the reactors and blow them up.
The Lantean battleship must not fall to the Wraiths. Not now, not ever.
Kirik threw another Wraith soldier who charged him in hand-to-hand over himself, falling with him to the deck. His back hit the deck painfully, but the man, overcoming the unpleasant sensation, rolled to the side, raised his weapon and hit his enemy right in the head. After which he got to his feet and with two charges from the Frequency Gun sent two more who had surrounded the wounded Jensen into oblivion.
The Ermen's side was soaked with blood—the commander of this squad had managed to stab him with a blade, but Alvar did not give up. He seemed not to notice his wound, continuing to kill Wraiths as if he were a machine.
By the most modest estimates, there were between one hundred and one hundred fifty Wraiths on board the starship. They were taking control of key areas of the starship, but apparently resistance still held out in some places.
Indiscriminately killing or stunning Wraiths in the current situation would have been very foolish, so the Runner pair let some enemies pass by, attacking only those who stood in their way. This squad, which had tried to deal with the control chair, fell into that category. And the fact that the non-working equipment had lit up again after the Wraith Commander's interference boded nothing good.
"You all right?" As soon as the Wraiths were on the floor, Kirik slipped into the corridor to check if anyone else was approaching. For now it was quiet.
"I have enough health to last me the rest of my life," the grim Ermen assured him, looking at the darkened glow of the control chair. "Hope they didn't manage to start anything."
"Doesn't matter now," Kirik shrugged. "We need to break through to the stern, to the reactor room."
"So what are we waiting for?" Alvar ejected the empty magazine from his pistol onto the floor and replaced it with a full one. He had no rounds left for his favorite assault rifle. That rifle was also gone—in the heat of the previous battle, it had to be abandoned due to weapon damage in hand-to-hand combat.
The Runners headed toward the stern along a corridor leading to a sealed bulkhead. Preparing so that Alvar, rapidly losing strength, would open the door, and Kirik would shoot anyone who might be on the other side, they still didn't make it.
The double blast doors swung open and at that moment a white-blue Stunner charge hit Alvar. A second one followed—and the Ermen collapsed to the deck.
Kirik didn't even have time to fire before a kick knocked the Frequency Gun from his hands. An elbow to the head knocked him off his feet, disorienting him. The impact of his head against the hard wall didn't improve his health either; everything swam before his eyes as the enemy in dark leather armor raised his Stunner...
And didn't fire.
Instead, the Wraith soldier roughly grabbed him by the collar, yanked him to his feet, and dragged him toward a group of Wraiths emerging from the open doors.
Long red hair caught his eye.
"Allies," he heard a female voice. A familiar queen's voice.
The Wraith soldier released his fist; Kirik dropped like a sack onto his backside. Shaking his head, he saw the Wraith Queen leaning over the unconscious Alvar.
"He's not long for this world," she stated. "Perforated kidney, liver, ruptured intestines, internal bleeding, infection. He'll die soon..."
"Don't you dare feed on him, you monster!" Kirik barked, lunging forward, but received a slap from the Wraith soldier just as Alabaster's feeding sucker touched Alvar's chest. When he tried to interfere again, the Wraith soldier simply kicked him in the stomach, then stepped on his throat. One movement or press—and the former Runner's neck would be crushed.
The Queen was experiencing indescribable pleasure from what she was doing. She hissed, snorted, and was clearly enjoying herself. Kirik didn't see, and wasn't sure he wanted to see, how his friend turned into a withered old man. But that he would kill this lying monster...
"Get away from me, carrion!" Jensen's voice rang out sharply and with fury.
Kirik craned his neck, seeing the grinning Alabaster looking with clear mockery at the Ermen crawling away from her. Aiming his pistol at her head, the man held his wound on his chest with his free hand.
"You're welcome, human," the queen tossed out, rising. That was a mistake—Alvar fired and a bullet wound appeared in her chest. Then another, and another—by the time the Wraith soldier tore the pistol from his hand, Alabaster was already coughing blood onto the deck.
The Runners' eyes met. There were five soldiers near the queen, and in principle, it might have been possible to try.
"Your... side..." spitting streams of blood, the queen looked at the man with anger. "No... wound..."
There was nothing else to do in this situation, so Jensen lifted the blood-soaked part of his clothing, wiped away the bloody smears with his hand...
"No wound," he glanced at the queen. "Your doing."
Alabaster, swaying, got to her feet, leaning on one of her soldiers. He silently took off his cuirass, and Kirik understood why. Of all her wounds, only one had closed—the rest continued to pulse, pushing out black clots of Wraith blood.
"You're lucky, human, that the wounds will close," said the queen, not even looking at Jensen, raising her hand over her victim's chest. "Next time I'll let you die."
"Stop!" Kirik shouted, getting her attention. "There are about half a dozen stunned enemy soldiers in the next compartment. No need to feed on your own."
Pointing at the projectile control room, he heard no command, but four of Alabaster's soldiers moved down the corridor. One stood guard at the far end, the rest entered and soon dragged out, by hands and feet, unconscious Wraiths without holes in their heads.
"That'll do," the soldiers stripped the torsos of the enemy soldiers of their protection, and the queen began to feed. After the second one, her wounds healed, and by the end of her meal, she looked even better than when they had met.
"Disgusting, but better than nothing," she looked at both humans with a hint of irritation. "We landed in the hangar with your killer. We're moving toward the stern; there are more of your kind there."
"Humans?" Alvar clarified, getting to his feet.
"And the Queen-Blade," Alabaster grinned. "It seems the tide of battle is on our side. Your friend the killer is clearing the opposite side."
"Alone?" Alvar took his weapon from the Wraith soldier with disbelief. Kirik, seeing they weren't going to be killed, at least for now, reclaimed his Frequency Gun.
"Has she ever needed help?" Alabaster asked in a playful tone, looking at the corridor from which both Runners had come. "Behind us are only humans and a few Wraiths. It would be better to head to the bow and deal with the larger groups of enemy soldiers."
"Or find a way to contact our people and coordinate the defense," Kirik suggested.
"I don't care," the queen waved dismissively. "I kill to drown out the pain of losing my Hive."
And a Hive for Wraiths is like family and homeland for humans.
"Well, then we have something in common," Alvar snorted. "And... thanks."
There was no need to explain what for.
"I told you—no need for thanks, human. At least not from you."
* * *
"You don't feel anything at all?" Trebal asked cautiously, running a scanner over the blood-covered Saya. While her fighters held the approaches to the reactors and the auxiliary bridge, she could spare time for the wounded woman.
"No," the glowing blue eyes looked indifferent, even as the cyborg girl pulled a Wraith knife from her own chest. "I'll need time to regenerate."
"You can do that?" the Dorandan was taken aback, watching as the cyborg set the radius bone protruding from her own forearm. Oh, Ascended, how... nauseating this all was.
"Like any biological platform," Saya replied, wiggling the bone to get it into place. "I need a rope and several cylindrical or rectangular objects thirty to forty centimeters long. Are any available?"
"I doubt it," Trebal finished checking the set femur on the cyborg's left leg and began wrapping a bandage around the wound. "Maybe there'll be something in the medbay, but most likely we can't break through there. Too few forces..."
"Commander," one of the Nomad soldiers interrupted her. He stood before the scanner monitors, trying to understand what he saw. "If I'm reading this right, three more small friendly ships have boarded, and twenty fighters have come out of them..."
"Mikhail," Trebal almost groaned. "We should have blown ourselves up and gotten out of here before the Scavenger killed him too."
"I don't think he can, Commander," the Nomad pointed at the ship markers in nearby space. "Those two Hive Ships and that cruiser show no signs of activity, and the Ares is now coming in on our port side and... Oh, it seems we have shields now."
"Not ours," the Dorandan, limping on her own wounded leg, approached the console. "It's an extended shield from the Ares. It's protecting us from... Oh, Ascended!" the girl was horrified, seeing the source of danger. "What is it doing?! We'll all die now!"