It's very strange to see your surroundings and realize that you don't have information about where you are, how you got here, for what purpose, and who brought you to this place.
Object-41 stood in the middle of the ruins of an unfamiliar city, which had nothing in common with any typical and ordered construction on Salumai. Stone blocks instead of metal-concrete, low buildings instead of hundred-story skyscrapers, remnants of paving stones, over which for many years there has been a layer of soil, providing a basis for grass to grow.
This is not Salumai.
Definitely not.
No one would build so primitively.
Object-41 frowned, trying to understand why she thought so. How would she know what to consider primitive and what not? She is a soldier, a cyborg assassin, created to fight Salumai's enemies. Not to analyze architecture.
But she could analyze something else.
The uniform she was wearing. Gray dense fabric with thread-type reinforcement elements. Polymer overlays on limb joints for protection during falls. Heavy military-style boots with high soles made of the same polymer. Considering its lightness and density, it's a reasonable solution for field footwear.
Unzipping her jacket, she exposed her torso, examining the form-fitting shirt. Factory seams, elastic fabric, adjusting to the figure. The figure...
The cyborg took off her shirt, examining her body. The organic part had undergone changes: subcutaneous fat had increased, noticeable stabilization of muscle mass that had aged after cryo-sleep. The organic part of the platform looked different compared to what she remembered from her last period of activity. It turns out, someone satisfied her food needs.
And also dressed her in a uniform that did not meet the requirements of the Salumai Military Corps. But it was factory-made, indicating progress on the part of those who made it.
Those...
She remembered her last mission, surprised that she didn't receive information about it immediately. Find and destroy the invading forces in the laboratory complex. Execute the self-destruct plan due to database breach. Find and destroy...
The most common order of all those she had carried out when the planet was attacked by wraiths.
Except... this time she failed? Why? Was self-destruction compromised? Or was it canceled by someone with command protocols, and she was transferred elsewhere after being deactivated?
Perhaps she was injured in the fight with the invaders. After all, she had no other choice but to go out to them and stall for time. She asked them for "help" to delay... And then she was deactivated.
Object-41 closed her eyes, connecting to her cybernetic part. She needed to understand what she had at her disposal at the moment.
And the combat component check puzzled her.
She felt implants in her body where they should be. But at the same time, as with the additional camera equipment, which was there during the last activation and is now gone, the augmented part of her body... had changed.
She couldn't find the words to choose the right description, but it seemed she could think and direct her body even more easily. New generation implants? Possibly. The most reasonable explanation for what was happening was that she was on a training ground where she was supposed to undergo updates.
But... why then were the combat implants not connected? Why did the neuro-interface work, but not give her combat information? As if it had been wiped clean. Or a new one was installed, without loading the necessary data into it... However, what was the point of testing the platform if it couldn't fight?
"This place is called Atos," a voice sounded from behind her. The cyborg turned to face the man who had spoken to her. Most likely, he was her new instructor and had arrived to give her a mission. A curious version of an instructor. "We are in the ruins of a place called Old Town. The ancient Lantians called it Emegé... Oh, God, your mother, woman!" A skeptical look appeared on one of the invaders' faces. "Don't you have any shame?"
Object-41 tilted her head to the side.
"Shame?" she repeated.
The man averted his eyes from her.
He was wearing the same uniform as her and stood two meters behind where she had regained consciousness.
There was nothing visible that would answer the question of how exactly he approached her so closely without making a sound. And her auditory receptors were fine—she had definitely checked.
"Yes, it's a thing. It makes you feel awkward when you've done something condemned by society... So, listen, can you just cover them up, okay? They didn't give you clothes for nothing."
"Cover up..." The cyborg assassin looked down at her body, examining it and not understanding the command. But the new neuroprocessor managed to analyze the situation, the man's behavior, and the subtext of his strange words. "You want me to put on a shirt and hide my mammary glands?"
"I'm not a biologist, but it seems the latter is inside those jugs you're flashing," the man said. "Come on, put on the shirt before the guys from the technical team learn the command 'Hands on the table, hussars!'"
"I'm not familiar with this team," said Object-41, pulling on a t-shirt. It seemed the invader was embarrassed by her body. Embarrassment causes discomfort – that's registered. Embarrassment can be used for interrogation. "I need answers."
"Yes, of course," the man looked at her. "Well, that's better. Although, you know, put on a jacket too. Because these tight t-shirts, they're, well, you know…"
The cyborg put on the jacket and tidied her attire to how it was at the moment of activation.
"So, let's get acquainted," the man suggested, extending his right palm with the edge facing her. "My name is Mikhail."
"Object-41," Object-41 introduced herself.
"Didn't we agree your name was Saya," said Mikhail the invader. "During our first meeting. You do remember that, don't you?"
"I remember," the cyborg confirmed. "You invaded the laboratory. I was supposed to stop you."
"And you honestly fulfilled your duty…"
"No. The task was not completed – you are alive."
"You know," the man scratched his nose. "It's not so bad, actually. I'm alive, my friends are alive, you're alive… Do you like being alive?"
"Like?" the cyborg asked.
"Yes, that's what they say about something you love."
"Love?" she tilted her head to the side.
"Yes," Mikhail nodded. "To feel affection, attachment to something or someone. To be pleased with something or someone. You, as I can see, like to tilt your head when you ask questions about things you don't know. So, in practice, you understand how things work."
Strange. She really did do that. This defect hadn't been noticed before. A malfunction of the organic part?
"Why can't I attack you?" she asked.
"Well, I'm not an idiot to meet you when you're a death machine," the smug man chuckled. "Your combat functions are disabled until we reach an agreement."
"An agreement about what?" Object-41 asked, starting to act. She spread her shoulders so that the part of her platform that embarrassed the man was highlighted even under her outerwear.
"About cooperation," he noticed her actions. But he didn't see anything else. Embarrassment is a good weapon.
"Unacceptable. You and your people invaded the laboratory."
"Yes, that's true. But, believe me, if we had known that your pseudo-intellect was completely insane, we wouldn't have behaved so barbarically. Everything that happened – to you, the laboratory, and your planet – was nothing more than an accident. A very sad, regrettable, but an accident."
"An accident?" she caught herself thinking that she had tilted her head again.
"What the hell?!" the man blurted out, glancing at her chest under the jacket again. "Do you even know the meaning of words? Something must have remained in your brain?"
"It should have," Object-41 confirmed. "I know how to inflict pain and conduct a field interrogation."
"Useful knowledge," Mikhail smirked. "You know, you don't have to…"
"I have to," Object-41 replied, delivering a kick.
Letting out something between a quiet yelp and the sound of air escaping a cylinder, the invader clutched his hands to the most vulnerable spot for men not wearing full armor and fell to his knees.
Object-41 approached him now, very close. Now he wasn't embarrassed and should have noticed that, while she was distracting him with her mammary glands, she had moved several steps closer. Enough to strike his genitals. Which, in fact, she did.
Approaching the man and grabbing his neck in the crook of her arm, she grabbed his hair with her other hand, causing not severe, but uncomfortable pain.
"The interrogation begins," she announced. "Speak, or I will apply the first degree of force to you."
"My balls…" the man whispered. And disappeared.
Object-41, with surprise, noted that she no longer felt Mikhail's body in her hands. As if he had become invisible and incorporeal simultaneously.
Looking at the spot where he had just been, the cyborg looked around for additional information.
The opening of the lid and the appearance of the familiar laboratory interiors on Athos were pleasing. But the excruciating pain from the cyborg assassin's swift kick to the most sensitive area – no.
"Diplomacy and Mikhail – 1–0," commented Alvar, standing nearby, glancing at the monitor next to the capsule. There, in a virtual environment replicating Emeg, the assassin cyborg began examining the ruins.
"Having fun?" I groaned, overcoming the pain in my lower torso. Damn, I hadn't been injured like that in fifteen years.
"Well, it didn't happen to me," the Ermen smirked, casting a glance at Chaiya, who was sitting at the control panel. Crouching next to my capsule, Jensen said quietly:
"Need any advice?"
"More like an ice pack," I admitted.
"Don't stare at her like that," Alvar advised. "Trebal even ran out of the laboratory. She's jealous, you know. She has less…"
"Listen, young naturalist, you should go," I advised, turning my head to the main person responsible for the virtual environment. "Can't you just turn off the pain sensations?"
"The sensory organ program is unified, and it will take several days to figure out what each part is responsible for," the Proculucian replied without looking at me. "You asked for it to be faster. I used the developments from the 'Aurora's' onboard computer."
"Can you at least dampen it somehow?"
"Give me twelve hours," Chaiya gave me a look full of mixed feelings. "This is Lantians technology. I don't understand the nuances of it."
"Understood," I managed to squeeze out. Okay, it seemed to be getting a little better.
"You do understand that she's seeking revenge, don't you?" Alvar asked just as quietly.
"If there were a reason," I replied just as quietly.
"So there is a reason," the Ermen assured me. "Just don't let the cyborg get close to you. Run, for goodness sake."
"Yeah," I grimaced, casting an angry glance at the neighboring capsule, in which Object-41 was located with a serene expression. "And I also need to do squats on my heels."
"If you need to, then do it," Alvar smirked. "But it's better to run away from her if you can't win."
"Advice of the 'highest' level," I assessed, closing my eyes.
Well, let's go, do it again. Only now I won't forget that I can control the virtual environment with the power of thought.
Strange behavior of the Athosians, right? Three black holes against a quasar, that's not right!
Kaspar had spent a week on Athos. And in three days, Asan was supposed to pick him up. He had two days to supplement his reconnaissance information. Another day for a fast march to reach the landing site across two rivers and a mountain range.
This spot was chosen so far away not out of whim, but out of necessity. The Athosian settlement is located in a huge supervolcano, which, thank all the Ascended, seems not to have erupted for a very long time. Therefore, the edges of the caldera were not impassable mountain ranges, as they could have been…
And at first, he was indeed worried about how to hide on the planet, in the caldera of the supervolcano, where the locals cultivate fields, herd cattle, and simply gather mushrooms and berries in the forests…
But on the second day of his stay on the planet, he realized that everything was not as he had imagined. A picture formed in his mind that the Athosians might have found some device or some smart person who came up with a complex scheme to protect the planet.
In reality, however…
Settling in the ruins of Emeg, the Old City, which the Athosians were afraid to enter, thinking it would provoke a raid by the Wraiths, Kaspar observed for several days what was happening before his eyes – the unthinkable.
First, he noticed that one of the relatively well-preserved buildings was reinforced with fresh building materials. Not logs, or stone blocks picked up on the spot.
The material was somewhat similar to what scouts encountered when stumbling upon the ruins of Ancient outposts. And the Nomad scientists unanimously stated that it was impossible to recreate this incredibly strong material, superior in strength to the hull of their ships. And yet, they really wanted to, considering that it did not let radiation through, was resistant to loads, including gunfire…
The Ancients knew how to build, of course.
He saw that a couple of men in uniforms, too high-quality and well-thought-out to be created by a primitive society, were talking in some strange language, treating the building's hull with a solution of this substance. They were using something that clearly resembled a homemade sprayer, assembled from scrap metal. But Kaspar had never seen a homemade sprayer that could pour liquid building material under such pressure that it reached from one end of the roof to the other. And that was, no less than, a hundred meters in a straight line.
What power must a compact compressor have to deliver building mass, which is clearly heavier than water, over such a distance?
But the oddities were not limited to this.
The building that these people were clearly reinforcing with the Ancient solution was not actually their base. A large structure, clearly of warehouse type, turned out to be nothing more than a parking lot for flying vehicles. And they seemed to live in a small annex attached to this warehouse. It would seem that it should have a continuation, but no, the annex, more resembling a corridor, simply broke off into the void.
And here Fry tensed noticeably.
In the five days he spent in Emeg and six days on Athos, he saw only these two. Rarely, they would go outside, walk around with devices resembling portable computers, dig the earth, or dismantle buildings, finding something underground and taking it to their annex through the warehouse.
Completely incomprehensible people, incomprehensible actions, and an incomprehensible meaning to their presence here.
But he also understood something else – they had set up signal sensors at a distance of a hundred meters from their living space. And it would be unlikely to get close to their dwelling to understand what was what.
There were practically no animals or birds here that could serve as a diversion. Or whom these two might suspect as perimeter violators. A bad situation.
But, on the other hand, their warehouse was visible from one side, where the gates were now missing. It would be possible to peek in there. Which Kaspar did.
Only disappointment awaited him there – a dozen unmarked boxes, and emptiness. The question is, why reinforce such an old building, spending resources on it, if in reality this warehouse will hardly ever be filled even to a tenth of its capacity.
It seemed that he had stumbled upon scavengers, who are sometimes found on planets searching for ancient artifacts. This would explain the crude construction tools, and the technology of the building mixture, similar to what the Ancients used.
Scavengers came to profit from the ruins, thinking they would find something valuable there, but in reality, they were just wasting their time. But, even if so, then getting a couple of such scavengers to go with him and share information would be a priority. Clearly, they had some Ancient secrets at their disposal. Otherwise, it couldn't be.
It became clearer and more alarming simultaneously the next day.
From the position he occupied, on the fragile roof of one of the tallest ruined buildings, he could observe the clearing, separated from the place where the Athosian camp was previously located. The camp was abandoned at the moment, but at the same time, Emeg was not so far away.
And it was not difficult to see how the stargate was activated. Kaspar prepared to see another group of scavengers.
But what he saw… He barely had the strength to breathe.
A small Lantians ship flew through the gate. Spreading its engines, it took a course towards the warehouse and annex.
A working Ancient ship!
Kaspar's breath caught. Yes, he had not made much progress in understanding the reasons for the Athosians' disappearance from their home planet. He had not found the gate's defense, which he intended to find.
But still, his reconnaissance was successful.
Among these people, who left their ship in the repaired warehouse, there was clearly someone who could operate Ancient technology. And, if so, he would be able to launch a warship!
That alone was worth the risk.
He didn't see how many people arrived on the small ship, but he suspected at least one. Unlikely more, as the annex was quite tiny and it was unlikely that even three people could comfortably fit there. And there was no one in the warehouse besides the abandoned ship.
Action was needed.
Probably the scavenger's accomplice arrived to pick up those boxes. But, while Kaspar watched the warehouse for a day after the ship's arrival, he did not discover the scavengers loading anything. They seemed to have disappeared somewhere. Probably doing something in the annex.
And, if so, then he had a chance to sneak into the warehouse. Yes, it was risky, but if the scavengers had some hybrid control, or, for example, they were drunk now, he could capture the pilot and everything they found.
When Asan returned, they would be able to take the ship, the pilot, and everything the scavengers had.
It took him a day to discover the disguised motion sensors. The devices were not elegant and were clearly far from factory-made. They used the familiar Nomad metal wires with insulation, which are not used in Ancient technology.
So, these scavengers had nothing to do with the Ancients – why would the Ancestors create such primitive devices? Correctly, there was no need.
On the ninth day of his stay, when there was not much time left before Asan's arrival, Kaspar began his infiltration.
Maintaining caution and with all possible attentiveness, armed with a "frequency scanner," he began to make his way through the ruins. Passing through the sensor line, he froze briefly in cover, expecting an alarm to sound. Or that the scavengers would start moving, looking for the intruder.
But no, nothing.
Either their guard alarm was a prop, or Kaspar managed to overcome it without being detected.
It was easier from there.
He approached the warehouse, assessed the situation.
The door to the annex was closed, and there was no one in the makeshift hangar. Everything was going well, in fact.
Slipping inside, he crept to the abandoned ship and peered into the open stern hatch. Inside – no one.
Fry crept to the front of the ship, where the pilot's cabin was located. And here, presumably, there should be a hybrid control device. If it existed, of course.
But hope was not justified. The instrument panel was as neat and without signs of tampering as on those small ships that the Nomads found aboard the Ancient warship.
So his best guesses were confirmed – among the scavengers there was someone who could pilot an Ancient ship. And that was great luck!
He just needed to capture the scavengers and meet his ship. Onboard, they would surely talk. And provide comprehensive information.
When he left the ship, heading for the annex door, he immediately realized something was wrong. The door was ajar, but not as he remembered. A draft, or did someone go out?
If so, then…
"Have you seen everything you wanted?" a female voice sounded behind him.
Raising his "frequency scanner," Kaspar aimed it at a young girl. Long curly hair, dark leather jacket, pants emphasizing the slenderness of her figure.
And a cold expression on her face.
Ah, yes… And a weapon aimed at him. A massive and clearly energy pistol, similar to his "frequency scanner." Except that its design strongly resembled Ancient technology.
Most likely, it was.
"Less than needed," Kaspar said cautiously, switching the "frequency scanner's" power to stun mode with his thumb. "Put your weapon on the ground and take two steps to the side."
"Don't steal my words," she smirked. It seemed strange to Fry that the turquoise ornament on her chest was suspiciously glowing. Or had it been like that from the beginning? "Who are you and why have you been tracking our people for a week?"
A week? They had known about him for a whole week? How could that be?!
"You have an Ancient ship," he explained.
"A ship, weapons, technology, and the right to dispose of them as we see fit," the stranger replied concisely. "That's not an answer to my question."
"Who is piloting it?" Fry asked.
"Ah," the girl smiled mockingly. "You're dictating your will to me. Well, alright," to his surprise, she threw her weapon aside. "Let's do this: you answer my question, and I won't break anything of yours. My mood has soured today."
The girl began to approach.
"One more step and I'll shoot," Kaspar warned, raising his "frequency scanner."
"I need answers," the stranger stated categorically, standing before him a few centimeters from the barrel of the "frequency scanner." "So, don't delay, make a choice…"
Kaspar pulled the trigger.
A scarlet charge of energy spread across the previously invisible bluish glow that surrounded the girl. It spread without causing her the slightest harm.
Kaspar shot again, but with the same result.
"Good try," he looked at the smiling girl. "But you chose the wrong option."
Despite the fact that he managed to block her hand strike to his head, a second later he was knocked off his feet and began to fall into the merciless darkness.