"Scavenger!" she pronounced the nickname by which he was known among other Wraith. "Indeed, who else could stoop so low as to attack my feeding grounds while my hive sleeps?"
The hive commander, whose name was Styx, bared his teeth, showing sharp, needle-like fangs.
"Cunning Blade," he demonstrated his recognition of the opponent in the same tone as she had. "Who else could make the livestock carry a bomb onto my hive during culling?"
Queen of the second hive. In the lore, she had no name (she was killed before it was spoken), but author gave her one, calling her Cunning Blade. And yes, in the lore, Wraith queens really have simplistic names. But more on that later.
You have to be on guard with this hive's queen.
Like the few Wraith whose hives, essentially the same as his, had been left without a queen, and thus without the ability to update their gene pool, sometimes used runners to keep their fighters in shape. While most Wraith slept, ones like Styx sought to stay competitive by regularly maintaining their combat readiness.
They existed mostly thanks to such raids on others' feeding grounds while other hives slept. The fact that on this pathetic planet there were Wraith worshippers who reported the attack to the second hive was news to him.
Wraith worshippers—these were humans who, in their utter foolishness, decided they could be useful to some hive. They came to the Wraith themselves, offering worship and reverence in exchange for special favors they could be granted. Most Wraith saw humans as nothing more than animals that bred chaotically during their hibernation just so the Wraith would have something to feed on. But there were hives like the one led by Cunning Blade. They allowed worshippers to travel on their ships, performing various tasks among humans. They found new or rediscovered old feeding grounds, learned everything about planets that could pose a threat to the Wraith. Once, they were useful—the first, maybe second thousand years after the destruction of the Lanteans. At that time when their legacy was still in the hands of animals. When raiding a planet could result in huge losses among the Wraith.
But now, most humans throughout the galaxy were no more than a submissive herd that could only fear and beg for mercy. Personally, Styx saw nothing useful in using them.
Unlike a number of other hives. Mostly run by queens who entertained themselves by playing with tamed animals, viewing them as no more than domestic livestock. As soon as worshippers stopped being useful, they were consumed as food. But even then, they accepted their fate with delight and admiration. Only this brought almost no pleasure in feeding—for years of service and receiving favors and gifts from the Wraith, worshippers turned into spoiled livestock that reeked just like the Wraith themselves.
And feeding on Wraith... Personally, that was beneath Styx's dignity. But others went for it. Because of that, significant changes were observed in the population. And not always did the gene pool change for the better.
Once, Styx had a queen—the queen of the Great Union, which had warred with the Lanteans and defeated them. However, a failed tactical decision, and he was left without her. For some time, he could hold power in his hands, and then he was betrayed. Quite a standard event among the Wraith: if before the weak died at the hands of the stronger, now a large number of weaklings banded together to destroy strong rivals.
Only recently had there been relative calm. And even that only because most Wraith were in hibernation.
However, for some reason, Cunning Blade's hive, as well as the Wraith on board her cruisers, were not sleeping. Undoubtedly, there was someone on the planet who reported the attack to them. And he voluntarily allowed himself to be culled, bringing a powerful explosive device on board to inflict significant damage on his ship.
It seemed Styx understood what this was for.
Even though he couldn't ask about it now, he could send a mental command to his first lieutenant. The one not involved in the conversation performed all the necessary operations and silently gave a response.
Now it became clear why the enemy hive's strike had hit directly on the left side. That bomb wasn't a simple explosive device. It left a weak but detectable radiation trace, thanks to which Cunning Blade was able to detect
"You and your Wraith have taken what doesn't belong to you," she said. "This planet is my feeding ground!"
"I came here following a runner," Styx said.
"And culled the entire planet's population because they were in your way?" the queen rasped, demonstratively baring her teeth. "I should destroy your ship and let my fighters feed on yours."
Styx felt disgust.
He belonged to the first generation of Wraith, Cunning Blade to one of the subsequent ones. The Wraith lineage was as murky as it was convoluted. However, there was something that distinguished younger Wraith from older ones.
Those who warred with the Lanteans perfectly understood what it meant to feed on one's own kind. Disgusting abomination. The human herd, these animals, existed precisely to satisfy the Wraith's feeding needs. The first generation of Wraith, as well as the second, would never allow themselves such a thing. But the current Wraith were not like those before. And there were almost no old and experienced ones left.
At the moment, current Wraith used the threat of feeding on one's own kind as a grave insult, emphasizing that the opposing side was so weak that it was only fit for food.
"But I'll take pity on you, scavenger," she said arrogantly. "You'll give me half of all your 'darts,' as well as the people you've culled. After that, you'll leave my feeding grounds forever. Otherwise," her voice, like her facial expression, became threatening, "I'll destroy you."
"You won't do that," Styx said confidently, checking the latest data on the tactical situation. Now everything fell into place.
"Why not?" Cunning Blade asked without showing a drop of surprise. "I have more ships and guns."
"You outnumber me in ships and firepower, yes," Styx agreed. "But you've deployed no more than half your 'darts.' You didn't continue bombarding my ship to complete destruction. I see only one reason for that—your hive and cruisers have only a minimal crew on board. All your other Wraith are in stasis. But mine aren't. So you'll let me leave here, taking my Wraith. And you won't get a single human, a single 'dart'—I'm taking them as compensation for the damage to my hive by your followers. But note—if you open fire on my ship, I'll do everything to ensure you and your hive ship are destroyed. And then your Wraith will become prey for other hives, left without a queen. Personally, I'm fine with turning a whole hive into scavengers. Moreover, scavengers whose queen was killed by another scavenger."
It was the Lanteans, by pointing out the peculiarities of the first Wraith, who did him the greatest service. They taught him and other first Wraith to use their weakness as strength. True, the Lanteans were wrong, thinking of them as weak. And that arrogance cost them their lives.
However, he had no intention of dying today.
This was a dangerous bluff.
Cunning Blade got her name in full accordance with how she conducted her affairs. She could easily feign her own weakness to lure Styx into a deadly trap.
But there was something much stronger than Cunning Blade's desire to destroy the intruder.
His hive was one of the oldest, and thus larger than the others. For that, he paid an exorbitant price, primarily suboptimal energy consumption. So he had to frequently raid other Wraith's feeding grounds—to feed his crew. Even considering that it wasn't full, he could barely make ends meet. There weren't enough people to even stock them up properly on the ship.
And raiding feeding grounds with a large human population was extremely dangerous, as strong hives would undoubtedly retaliate. For that reason, he attacked small human settlements.
Wraith didn't fall into hibernation for no reason—they relieved themselves of the need to feed regularly. And at the same time, gave the human herd a chance to restore its numbers. Only when the human count was sufficient did the Wraith awaken. A few Wraith monitored this, occasionally visiting planets to keep the situation under control.
Using an entire fleet for such purposes was extraordinarily wasteful. If Cunning Blade had all her Wraith on all ships awakened, it would force her to depopulate several low-population planets. Essentially, it would mean exterminating feeding grounds, as he had done on this planet.
No queen would do that if the livestock on the feeding grounds didn't pose a threat to her.
The local animals posed no real threat. Starting a war over such insignificant losses for her hive was impractical. But if she allowed it to happen, it would mean losing authority among her commanders.
Whether she opened fire or let him go—the situation suited Styx in either case.
Honestly, the second was even less preferable. For him.
Cunning Blade might decide to attack him to capture the old hive. It was a valuable and prestigious trophy. True, it required significant maintenance. But a large hive led by a queen could handle it. To some extent. By killing the commander, she could subjugate his Wraith, further strengthening her hive.
But at the same time, if he was right, due to the lack of awakened Wraith, she couldn't board Styx's ship. At least not immediately. But he would have time and opportunity to reach her ship and land his fighters on the hive. Let many die, but he would kill her. Whether other commanders leading the cruisers stayed with him or not, it wouldn't matter. He would become stronger in any case, even if he lost his old ship.
Letting him go without compensation, of course, would make her the target of attacks from her ambitious commanders. But it cost Cunning Blade nothing to kill them and appoint new ones in their place. And repeat this procedure until loyal commanders stood at the head of the cruisers. However, such a decision had its negative consequences.
Cunning Blade might be cunning in her schemes against Wraith of her generation, but it was better for her not to tangle with Styx.
The queen, baring her teeth, demonstrated her contempt to him.
"Get out of here, scavenger," she said in a commanding tone. "Today, I grant you life. But all Wraith in the galaxy will learn of your disrespectful attitude toward ancient laws."
In fact, she was declaring that she would do everything in her power so that other Wraith, upon awakening, would declare a hunt for him.
Not news.
Such promises could be stacked up, nothing new.
"Cruisers and 'darts' are leaving their positions," the first lieutenant reported. "Begin return of our fighters?"
"Yes," Styx ordered. "Move beyond the range of their guns. Then jump to hyperspace."
"As you wish, commander."
"Runner caught?" Styx asked the second lieutenant.
"No," he replied. "He managed to escape our trap. We lost ten hunting teams. This runner is costing us too much."
"It'll cost more to have our Wraith completely useless when the time comes to fight for our interests against other Wraith," Styx cut off. "This runner is excellent entertainment for our soldiers and junior commanders."
"Probably the queen will take him for herself," the second lieutenant suggested.
"She won't have time," the hive commander objected, watching as already sixty percent of the 'darts' had returned on board. "I've studied him well. He took the opportunity. As soon as our fighters picked up the landing party, he headed to the gate
"No, commander," the first lieutenant interjected. "Our scanners are picking up his transmitter on the planet. But the exact location is unknown."
"It doesn't matter anymore," Styx said. "Cunning Blade isn't interested in 'runners.' She won't interrogate him or try to make him a worshipper. If she starts hunting him, all the better—let him kill as many of her soldiers and commanders as possible. He's worth a good squad. Not like his killed kin."
"Now there are at least two of them," the second lieutenant reported.
"What did you say?" Styx turned to his subordinate.
"'Dart' pilots upon return from the planet reported that some fighters were shot down by something like Lantean self-guiding projectiles," the second lieutenant explained. "Additionally, the transmitter was moving too fast, obviously on a ship. But scanners detected nothing."
"When was this data received?"
"Before the second hive's arrival."
Styx growled gutturally.
"And you've been silent all this time?" Styx approached his subordinate. "Nothing in this galaxy could have evolved from the last hibernation to a level even remotely resembling Lantean. It was their cloaked short-range ship!"
"That's impossible," the second lieutenant said. "We defeated the Lanteans ten thousand years ago."
"Specifically, you didn't defeat anyone," Styx clarified. "We did. And we assumed they managed to hide somewhere. If so, we're in danger—who knows how far they've advanced now."
"We should report to other hives," the second lieutenant perked up eagerly.
"No," Styx barked. "We'll sort it out ourselves. First lieutenant!"
"Shall I send a scouting team to the planet to collect readings from the last fifty culled numbers?" he clarified.
"Exactly. Wherever the runner and the Lantean went, we'll follow. We'll find them," Styx grinned carnivorously, "and have a feast."
Styx had no intention of mentioning that, having regained access to Lantean technologies, his hive would become essentially invincible, and his army—vast.
***
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