"Observers on the planet report that the gates have activated," one junior smart one informed another.
"Who went through them?" the other immediately asked.
"One of our arrows," the subordinate reported. "From the last group. The genetic marker matches."
"Only one?" the senior smart one suspected something was wrong.
"Yes. Heavily damaged. The pilot reports that she is escaping pursuit."
"Who is piloting it?"
"The hive commander, Demon."
The senior smart one fell silent, contemplating what he had heard.
Something was happening.
Something so far beyond the raiders' understanding of military operations that out of half a thousand fighters in various detachments sent to a planet a thousand and a half light-years away, only Demon returned.
Of all the "arrows" – only one, and it was damaged.
How many blades had died, how many smart ones… He didn't count the soldiers – they were expendable resources.
But without the queen, it would be difficult for them to renew their population. Yes, they still had forces for battles, and the hive ship had practically recovered. It only remained to heal the corridors and restore the hull in several places, after which they would be combat-ready again.
Half a day at most.
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 Demon is alone and escaping pursuit, then most likely he has lost all his assistants and blades. Not of his own free will – the enemy was probably stronger. Perhaps the Scavenger himself lured them into a trap.
And, if everything is so, then a unique opportunity opened up before him…
"Direct energy to restore these areas," he ordered his subordinate, pointing to specific red marks on the ship's diagram. "They must be restored first."
"The hive commander ordered otherwise," the junior smart one reminded him.
"We have extraordinary circumstances," the senior smart one snarled, demonstrating his authority over his subordinate. "Demon will be on board soon, and such initiative will be very welcome…"
And it would also help him become the hive commander's assistant. Which is rare among smart ones.
A mark flashed and disappeared on the main screen.
"What happened?" the senior smart one worried, stepping away from the power flow control console and approaching the one responsible for scanner operation.
A soldier stood before it, a dull but necessary tool for operating systems in the absence of a full crew.
The soldier turned his impenetrable mask towards him. The senior smart one entered his mind without the slightest difficulty.
He himself didn't notice the mark on the monitor, but the soldier saw everything.
The sensors picked up and immediately lost an energy surge characteristic of a hyperspace window opening. And that meant they had guests.
It was just strange that the hive systems did not detect the ship itself. Perhaps it was destroyed upon exiting hyperspace, perhaps it was thrown light-years away due to a malfunctioning hyperdrive or stabilizers.
Or perhaps the ship's sensors in hibernation simply couldn't correctly interpret what they picked up. Are they faulty?
They shouldn't be.
Something is happening here.
It is likely that the Scavenger is hunting them.
We need to act.
"The commander is requesting a landing corridor," the junior smart one distracted him from his thoughts. At the same time, the soldier, whose mind the senior raider had left on the ship, returned to his tasks – monitoring the scanners.
"Open the small hangar," the smart one ordered. "And prepare the ship for battle. Send out all the 'arrows' we have left to patrol around the hive ship. Whatever happens here, we will be ready."
Alright, let's assume he got carried away with the thought that piloting raider "arrows" is easy enough.
Most likely, it is, but not when the fighter is heavily damaged, its fuel lines are about to burst due to the colossal pressure created by the organic pump analogs.
But the "arrow" was fully fulfilling its task.
Namely – delivering him and his cargo directly to the hive ship.
Alvar felt uncomfortable in this rigid seat. No, without a spacesuit, of course, everything here is comfortable and ergonomic. But, it seems, the enemy does not use spacesuits.
He valued his own life, so he had to be 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 this before.
The raider hive ship.
Several depressions ending in massive growths were already visible on the huge hull.
"I suppose these are the hangar doors," Alvar muttered, holding the trembling control handle.
The raider "arrow."
He glanced at the chronometer.
A little over a minute had passed since he sent the request-order-demand-notification, or whatever it was called by the raiders, to launch his "arrow" onto the ship.
And he still hadn't received any response or action that could be interpreted as his subordinates of the hive commander having understood correctly.
Maybe Tayla was mistaken about the interpretation of the order?
Maybe the translator in the system translated incorrectly?
Maybe the raiders are even staging a coup to eliminate their commander? Well, the latter could be understood if they were shooting at him.
But now…
Rectangular growths-doors began to slowly part in front of him.
Alvar exhaled with relief.
And at the same moment, he almost screamed in surprise and fear.
A stream of "arrows" poured out of their hangar landing bay, towards which he was approaching. Five, ten, fifteen, twenty…
He lost count at twenty-five.
The suddenness of what happened was so overwhelming that he realized – if they had decided to attack, the Ermenian wouldn't even have had time to pull the trigger on the handle and activate the onboard weapons. And there's no need to talk about maneuvering – this "arrow" is held together solely by sheer will, prayer, and a ton of glue.
But the "arrows" bypassed him like a river bypasses a stone in its path. And they did not try to close their formation behind his stern, as far as he could see. This means the "jumpers" with the landing party are in order.
Alvar pulled himself together.
Everything is fine.
Everything is according to plan.
It was assumed that the launch of the "arrows" from the hangar could be one of those things that should happen when both parts of the plan start to act.
Better this way than the ship waking up completely and starting to fire in all directions.
And then he lost control.
As soon as the "arrow" crossed the hangar opening, it stopped responding to his commands. It stopped obeying, but this was not due to any malfunction.
The ship switched to autopilot, like a "jumper" does when it encounters a gate or returns to Atlantis.
Mikhail had warned him about this.
Alvar felt himself sweat.
Yes, he wasn't prepared for this on Ermen.
It was as if he were flying through a giant cosmic intestine, although he assumed that the landing zone would begin immediately behind the opening. But no, everything here is much more "interesting."
It seems that the raiders did not have an atmospheric field or something similar that could separate the hangar doors from the vacuum without losing atmosphere. Instead of a shield, they had a "gut." The "arrow" reacted to various radiations, almost imperceptible, but still present.
And he understood what was happening.
The "gut" is this very atmospheric magnetic field. But it is so weak that a large space, an extent of a weak magnetic field, is required to prevent decompression. And this field was projected into the "gut."
He suddenly remembered that raider ships are organic, after all. And the "gut" could very well be… Oh, no, he didn't even want to think about anything like that.
Meanwhile, the "gut" passed. The "arrow" entered a space that was, in fact, the hangar.
A huge domed space, riddled with many small platforms or recesses, it resembled the abode of some beetles or insects. Alvar shook his head, tearing himself away from contemplating the view outside through the raider interface's corrected version.
The raider hive ship hangar.
He liked what he saw above him. No, not this pinkish-purple dome with holes and bulges, resembling the palate of a sick person.
But the cockpit dome, which in the first version of the "arrow" in Atlantis's armament remained opaque and was only covered with raider patterns and inscriptions. Chaya had refined the interface program, and now, black on the outside, the protective dome of the Atlantean "arrows" was completely transparent from the inside. This allowed him to see everything around him.
And the additional markings in his native language on the inside of the canopy, plus the transformed control panel, made him feel like he was in the pilot's seat of an Ermenian interceptor. Well, except that monitors the size of the cockpit canopy were something new for him.
The control panel beeped.
Alvar paid attention to the inscription on the tiny display. "Materialize cargo?" Yes, Mikhail had also warned him about this. Now, apparently, he was approaching one of the unloading zones… However, he didn't care where to do it.
Jensen activated the materialization key.
He didn't see it with his own eyes, but at the same time, he imagined how it happened. And not only thanks to the interface.
A cone of light, resembling a stream of pure water, formed under the "arrow." It touched something beneath it, and the designation indicating the presence of cargo in the collector beam buffer disappeared from the monitor.
Well, the first part of the operation is complete.
He managed to break into the ship, he clearly brought the landing party with him, they provoked the raiders to launch their "arrows" and thus further reduce the enemy crew on board.
And he delivered the "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 raider-type soldier faces appeared outside. And one pale blue face in a dark coat.
"Open the cabin," the autopilot's command read.
"No problem," Alvar replied, touching the desired button with his elbow.
"Commander, I greet you…" the raider's eye slits narrowed the moment he saw a human in a combat Ermenian spacesuit.
He didn't manage to finish.
Behind and below, deafeningly spreading throughout the hangar, an explosion sounded. The raider, unlike Alvar, didn't know that this was just a bomb that had just vaporized several landing pads and walkways, along with the soldiers who had come to collect the loot delivered by their "commander."
"Good day, we are from Atlantis," the Ermenian's helmet vocoder replied. And the next moment, his "frequency" struck all four of them.
The air was torn by the piercing cry of some bird – the raiders sounded the alarm. Several adjacent doors opened, letting in a total of six raider soldiers, who rushed to the scene of the explosion.
Everything was as expected.
The soldiers never understood how they were fired upon directly from the air. But Jensen, behind whom a disguised "jumper" had already lowered its ramp, disembarking a dozen Athosians onto the deck, knew the secret.
"Second Division—entering," he reported, crossing the line of the open doorway leading from the hangar into the depths of the hive ship. The next in the squad, a technician-Ancient, checked a map on his scanner, directing Jensen's group towards the nearest information console.
There were such consoles on every deck of the cruiser, and most likely on the hive ship as well.
Yes, that's how it turned out. The technician instantly found the required part of the Wraith console, pried it open with a sharp combat knife, and connected to the hive ship's wiring, which resembled veins.
"Done," he reported, disconnecting. "Airlocks are locked, hangar is disconnected from the hive ship's main network. They won't be able to control it from the bridge."
"Fifth Division has landed and is ready to provide cover," Kirik reported. Their task was both simple and complex—to hold the hangar and the ships from Atlantis at any cost. It was the smallest squad, considering that it also included pilots.
Using the latter in a storm mission would have been a great folly.
Atlantis already had few pilots capable of piloting even "jumpers." All those capable of more had been moved to the dreadnoughts, and one person remained on Atlantis to serve as a backup just in case.
"First Division has entered," Kaspar Fry reported. "We have the starship's map. Moving to the stasis pods."
"Third Division has entered," Saya's cold and emotionless voice spoke the words just as the sounds of gunfire were heard in the background on the comms. "Map received, heading for the hyperdrive."
"Fourth Division is in," Mikhail responded. "Moving to the bridge."
Alvar moved quickly, but not for a second did he forget that he had eight recruits under his command, as well as one technician. And the life of the latter, to be honest, was far more valuable than anyone in the squad.
Including the Ermen himself.
He was prepared for the Ancient to be a burden, but to his surprise, the guy, about twenty years old, hadn't lagged behind even in training, and in combat, he didn't whine, complain, or generally move quietly.
His barely audible commands about where to turn, where to wait while he opened the consoles, his springy gait, and the rather skillful way he held a scanner in one hand and a pistol in the other, aroused certain suspicions.
The mere fact that he didn't point his weapon at his teammates without being reminded earned him respect. This was no weakling scientist, but a fully competent researcher ready for fieldwork.
"You're from Kirik's training group, aren't you?" Alvar asked when they stopped at another door, which the Ancient was opening.
"Yes," the other replied. "I thought it necessary to train combat skills, not just science or technology. After all, this galaxy is ten thousand years ahead of us. And who knows what we'll have to face on field missions."
"Field missions?" Alvar was surprised. "I thought we only had one reconnaissance group. And it includes Ihaar."
"He's everywhere," the technician smiled slightly. "But no, I've been thinking about suggesting to Sar to create several reconnaissance groups. That way, we could be on several planets simultaneously. All it would take is to include one trained technician in the group, capable of understanding the technology we discover. Well," he blushed slightly, "or at least not blowing it up."
"Yes, that would be useful," Alvar agreed.
Indeed, there was a logical kernel to it.
Atlantis could be restored for centuries—the city was enormous, and even three hundred experienced technicians wouldn't repair it immediately. Even if they had spare parts.
But if at least a few technicians, capable of dealing with found technology on-site or hacking Wraith equipment, were in several reconnaissance detachments... Then yes, then it was very interesting.
"We'll have to tell Chaya or Mikhail about this when we get back," Alvar said.
"Definitely and... Done," the technician raised his hand with a fist just as a bulkhead, resembling some kind of ribbed film, parted to the side.
Jensen looked at him with interest.
The guy had clearly studied the gesture language of the Ermen combat groups, which Alvar himself had taught Kirik. Since they were working for the same cause, in the same team, there should be an exchange of experience and knowledge.
The technician showed three fingers, then, checking his scanner's monitor, indicated the direction behind the bulkhead he had not yet crossed.
The corridor on the hive ship.
So, two enemies, one at the one o'clock position and one at two o'clock. The technician hid behind a console on the opposite wall of the corridor, the Athosians covered the rear and side corridors behind them, with two fighters for each path from which Wraiths could come. And Alvar himself, along with a couple of fighters, was now aiming to go inside.
It seemed the technician had picked up the life signs of the Wraiths the moment he opened the door. It was a shame it wasn't earlier, otherwise, they wouldn't have heard the hum of fast footsteps—the Wraiths were approaching.
Good, this could be worked with.
The technician produced a "frequency scanner" in his hands, the same as Alvar's. Exchanging glances, they communicated with gestures.
The first to die was the Wraith approaching from the "two o'clock" direction.
The technician lightning-fast darted out from behind the console and sent the Wraith soldier into oblivion with a single shot. Then he immediately took cover behind improvised cover.
Two other soldiers appeared in view, weapons at the ready, coming from "one o'clock." Naturally, they oriented their stunners towards the console, correctly identifying the source of the threat to their comrade.
And therefore, Alvar easily and effortlessly managed to take down both.
The Athosians, armed with Ermen weapons, had not yet engaged—in the confined spaces of the hive ship, it would have been a waste of ammunition on such trifles as two or three Wraiths.
"Clear," the technician reported.
"Forward," Alvar ordered, hearing the lively firefight in the ship's corridors. "Second Division, we hear shooting."
"It's First Division!" Fry's voice boomed in the earpiece. Deafening shots from "frequency scanners" sounded in the background. "We have problems! Retreat!"
"Mikhail..." Alvar began.
"We're already at the bridge," he replied. "Move to help them, we'll manage."
"You don't understand!" Nomad shouted. "We all have problems!"
"Multiple signals!" the technician suddenly reported.
"Where?"
"Everywhere!" The Ancient's eyes widened. "Stasis pods deactivated, Wraiths have woken up!"
Fifty people against several hundred Wraith soldiers on a 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, expelling its main engines and rushing forward.
The overwhelming guilt she felt was so all-encompassing that the ship activated its cloaking, assuming she felt threatened.
Chaya yanked the control wheel 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 minimal manpower, in the midst of an operation taking place on the other side of the galaxy?!
And all she had done was leave a trail of pieces that would help find her... No, not a trail... A trail of crumbs—that's what Mikhail had said. It was foolish and unwise to waste food to ensure the safety of her escape route...
And it was also foolish and unwise to do what she was doing!
Her gaze caught a striking inscription in Lantian: "DO NOT pass through the gates with active cloaking." A warning for those simpletons who thought cloaking was reliable protection.
Chaya shivered, remembering how some overconfident pilots, escaping from Wraiths, still left their cloaking on the ship when passing through the gates.
None of them emerged on the other side. At least not in one piece.
The physics of hyperspace were merciless to anyone who intended to consider themselves smarter than the laws of the universe.
"To seem smarter than you are is a one-way trip."
That's what Moros had told her when she begged him and the Council to make the Proculucians one of the younger races. Naturally, nothing came of it.
And she dedicated the rest of her life to ensuring the safety of her people. Desperate actions, leading to one cataclysm after another.
And even what was happening now was a direct continuation of her fears.
If she hadn't been afraid that Mikhail would prefer the more developed Dorandans to her, she would have gone with him to "Aurora." And she could have done more there than everyone else. At 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 had been in for the last few months. Waiting for the coming battle with the Wraith alliance led by the Scavenger... No one would have ever known anything about them!
Although, no, they would have definitely 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 get the queen, the power... Yes, the Ancients in this galaxy were always in danger...
But if she had been even a little more perceptive, the danger would have been minimal.
Talus... The Scavenger on Talus.
One of the first settlements of the Ancients in this galaxy.
And not just a settlement—one of the younger races, more developed than the Dorandans, once lived there. Could they have had technologies that would have provided the super-hive with adequate nutrition? Quite possibly.
Chaya ran through many models, trying to understand their chances if everything started again... Not great.
But if there was a way to stop the Wraiths, to save Atlantis and the Ancients... They would never take off under the fire of even a couple of hive ships. Simply not enough power from a single MNT.
And even the drill wouldn't help.
And if they were up against a super-hive powered by Ancient generators... They wouldn't fight them off.
Her hand froze over the dialing device, ready to enter the last symbol of Atlantis's address. The scanners were clear, cloaking was removed, all she had to do was lower her palm and open the gates, return to the city...
She might be needed there at any moment, at any time... The only scientist in all of Atlantis...
Or she could continue her journey and do what she had planned. Obtain the necessary means. And answers...
It became light in the cargo hold.
So much so that she had to close her eyes. No alarm signals, not the slightest hint of depressurization, short circuit...
"Oh, come on," a female voice said. "It's not that blinding."
Chaya looked at a figure in white robes, which seemed to be woven from light itself. A figure that shouldn't have been there.
"You are forbidden..." she mumbled.
"There's always time while others are busy saving this galaxy," the Lantian said in a casual tone, settling into a chair opposite her. "Well, what are you waiting for, Chaya Sar? It's time to go home."
"My home is Atlantis," the girl cut off. "I... I am needed there!"
"All of this has happened before," Ganos Lal smiled, making the Proculucian's blood run cold. "You've said it many times. But it hasn't led to success. You don't belong among mortals. It's time to Ascend again, my child."