Of course, I'd had to cut meat before.
And in most cases of my life, that meat was already dead. Or I made it that way. There were plenty of cases in field conditions where I'd had to cut fellow soldiers to save their lives.
But those were different conditions. Field medicine in my time wasn't too advanced, sure, but service brought the necessary experience. Interaction with more seasoned comrades helped improve survival knowledge.
Now, though, I had to perform medical intervention on an alien human's body with a knife disinfected at best with water from a canteen. All this on the floor of an alien flying craft millions and billions of kilometers from the planet I was born on.
Tools: just the knife, scanner. Painkillers: just the patient's grit. Antiseptic in the form of prayer hardly useful equipment. And who knows when the Wraith will tail us again.
Of course, what could be simpler⁈
Honestly, even I was queasy at how easily Alvar decided to trust me with this. To bare his back to a complete stranger, and put his own knife in his hands...
You need great courage for that.
Or recklessness. Who knows, maybe I'm a local analog of "little gray men" with chloroform and an anal probe ready?
But something told me the Runner was just seizing his chance, which doesn't come to everyone. In this galaxy, there's a direct and overt threat—the Wraith. They're enemies of all humans in the galaxy. And people know it. So, judging by Jensen's tales, helping a person in trouble is customary among locals more advanced than simple hunter-gatherers.
Thanks to the scanner, I knew the incision spot to the millimeter. Cut the flesh, penetrate the muscles to the spine, and with one alien tech fry another. What could be simpler?
What was the point of helping this man?
At first glance, he was completely unnecessary to me. Just a random person nearby. He might not even be who he claims. Maybe a Wraith trap, one of their servants and worshippers?
Maybe.
But the last doesn't hold up.
Our meeting circumstances are far from ideal, of course. But the fact that I arrived on a planet where he was already hunted spoke for itself. If the Wraith knew Atlantis wasn't abandoned, they wouldn't stage such shows. Especially on a planet I might not have landed on.
No, I think this guy's a Runner.
And that means he has motive to hate the Wraith.
His planet destroyed, its population fodder for pale-faced early-2000s emo cosplayers. No home, no friends, no support.
He's a loner. And I'm a loner.
Only I can offer him shelter, weapons, gear. At minimum, the Ancient blaster interested him. No wonder, such power. He didn't catch my small deception that all tech runs on the ATA Gene, so at least he'll exchange info for help.
Despite the stock of Jumpers, I couldn't give him one. He's a pilot sort of, but couldn't fly it without me. But a blaster "after minor tweaks," he might value as a gift.
In return, I can get the info I want.
Gate addresses where peaceful farmers and agrarians live who could supply me with food, for example. The Athosians in known events outright revered the Ancients, hated the Wraith, and easily made contact for safe shelter. And there could be dozens such peoples.
Atlantis's address database is ten thousand years outdated. Who lives on those planets now—you can't check without scouting. And doing it solo, regularly leaving the city empty, isn't the best option.
If I had an ally who wouldn't betray, things would go much faster.
And by "things" I mean the direct work I came here for.
You can manage Ancient tech, even ships like Atlantis, alone. If you have years, you can learn their knowledge, repair the city solo, find more ZPMs, and head to the Milky Way, learn everything, and... What after "and" I don't know yet.
But that's irrational.
In known events, once Atlantis surfaced, during a Wraith raid they dropped troops into the city. Hundreds and hundreds of soldiers wandering the city, feeding on people—that's no fun scenario.
Need allies.
I roughly know how to enlist advanced people's help in this galaxy, but it all boils down to resources and assistance again. Remember, the expedition, even with Athosian help and galaxy info, regularly got into trouble. And barely escaped. Sometimes needing a whole squad or all of Atlantis's population.
If I stay alone, it'll be oh-so-sweet. I can't stay under personal shield constantly either—the whole body's itching already, hair standing on end. Such tech, like many others, isn't meant for constant use.
So, at minimum, worth trying to recruit this guy as an ally. He's from an advanced world, ex-military who knows plenty. He can teach me piloting and introduce other galaxy dwellers. Not to mention whatever interesting stuff might remain in his world.
Take his weapons. Like the knife I'm now driving into his skin. Easily and casually, like a surgical scalpel, it sliced the skin. A bit of blood is no problem, naturally.
At the same time, note the knife isn't just a crude "stamping." Yes, factory-made. And not anyhow, but every detail thought out.
Comfortable handle, sturdy blade, honed to razor sharpness. Plus wire cutters in the handle. All points to creators who planned their product.
And that's very good.
Picture from the Internet. Say, that's roughly what Alvar Jensen's knife looks like.
His assault rifle is also an interesting weapon variant. In the series, I saw only a few local firearms. And what Alvar used resembled none.
More like a hybrid of Earth's FAMAS with composites. Which is very, very good from their science development standpoint.
The series showed very few races that could match or surpass Earth tech level. The Wraith never allowed it, as an advanced civilization is a threat.
And here...
Honestly, I didn't know if I'd find more Ancient weapons or ammo on Atlantis, if I could recharge crystals after they deplete. And if there's somewhere to get more familiar early-life firearms, relatively known at least visually... That'd be good support for my plans.
Yes, you can't kill a Wraith with one or two bullets. But short bursts—oh yes.
Jensen's assault rifle.
"What are you digging around there for?" the Runner grumbled. "We don't have much time left."
"Do you want to get rid of that thing, or spend the rest of your life as a bug-eyed paralyzed freak?" I inquired, using the blade's back to gently move the muscles aside. Didn't go well.
Have to act differently.
Concentrating, I activated the personal shield. Turned it off right as I got on the ship—no spares, and didn't want to test how long the charge lasts empirically. Let alone if I can recharge it or not.
Sliding fingers into the wound, I tensed, separating the back muscles from the subspace transmitter material. The Wraith secured it so the power source was closer to the spine. Smart move if no desire to lose the device in a Runner's accidental fall. Or protection from easy ways to disable the transmitter.
"What, shoving wires into my back?" the Runner spoke up.
"I'm going to short the transmitter's power cell," I had to explain why I inserted one contact into the wound. "The overload should burn it out and make the device inoperable."
"Couldn't you just give me the contacts to hold?" Jensen asked. "If you need an electric shock..."
In the series, a similar op was done with a defibrillator. But I don't have such equipment handy. For want of a seal... we dismantle the most complex extraterrestrial PDA.
The Runner's suggestion is, of course, most reasonable. But not knowing his physiology and the battery's charge power, I could really stop his heart. And per scanner data, between the transmitter's power cell and spine is a dielectric layer.
At least if I understood the translation right.
"It'll be fine," I lied.
Worst case, this guy dies. But if it works...
As soon as I connected the second contact to the tracker's power source, the Runner arched like a bow. A short circuit flash sounded, smelled of burning, and my shield charged momentarily from the energy.
Yanking the wires, ignoring the teeth-grinding man, I brought the scanner to his back.
The device read new data, the image showed the spine and enemy device... Only now it was dark gray, not red. And the Ancient text downright cheered me.
"It worked," I exhaled. "The device is inactive."
"I thought you decided to fry me," the Runner rose from the floor, reaching back with his hand. But naturally got nothing but bloody hands. "You didn't just disable it temporarily, right?"
I don't think Wraith tech is so magnificent it can survive that and recover.
"We'll check in a bit," I promised. Looking at the virtual screen, I noticed several red dots near us. "Wraith are close. Time to go."
"Agreed."
While the Runner tore his T-shirt, turning it into makeshift bandaging for the wound, I returned to the pilot's seat. Not too neatly, but still lifting the Jumper into the air, I checked if cloaking worked, then sped at max away from where the Wraith might catch the beacon's last signal.
At the same time, running scanners, I couldn't hold back when I got the response.
"How bad?" Jensen asked, sitting beside.
"One hive off orbit vanished," I explained. "Darts down by orders—only a dozen. And they're scouting far from us. Looks like inspecting the underground roof blast site."
"The one you escaped from?" the now former Runner clarified.
"Exactly. But we won't fly there," I decided.
"Why? What if there's more useful stuff?"
"Nothing there but dust and centuries of mustiness," I replied, directing the Jumper toward the Gate.
The plan, barring meeting Jensen, worked perfectly.
Scanning the soil, boosting sensors via huge energy draw from the Jumper's power source, I detected voids away from the stone structure. Plenty of voids. But only one had even geometric rectangular shape, indicating artificiality.
And that's a sign.
Blasting the roof so no wide walls suffered, I descended the formed trench down. And almost immediately found what I sought. A room hewn in the earth, walls laid with clay bricks. In the center, a pedestal with a platform where plates needed arranging in order. And the last were scattered around. No desire to search for them.
By Brotherhood logic or whoever set this trap, each plate had a number—one to nine. Needed arranging so each side summed to a certain number. Only then the ZPM hidden in wall stucco would reveal itself.
Frame from the series. That's how that stucco looked. Five circles around the central element look like the ZPM's end face.
Reasonably figuring Ancients unlikely involved in creating this trial, I recalled the ZPM was behind one of five round covers. Immediately recalled Janus's promise of five ZPMs to the expedition head...
Five there, five here... Coincidence?
Honestly, I hoped not. So, knocking off round covers, hoped to find more than one power source. Didn't. Four decorative circles were just patterns, no voids behind to hide a ZPM.
But in the fifth...
ZPM in the stucco cell.
Pity not a full five, but even one suffices for a while. Roughly three thousand years or so. Of course, if not using city systems.
Now one of the most capacious energy storage devices in this and neighboring galaxy lay in the hold in the ship's cargo bay.
The closer I flew to the Gate, the more anxious I got. Now, with tracking danger gone, I wanted nothing but to return to the city ASAP.
"No Wraith at the Gate," Alvar noted.
I saw no red dots on ground or air either. Moreover—the Gate inactive. Yes, two Darts a kilometer off, and a Wraith infantry group at half that distance. But no way they'd intercept us.
"Your ship flies through the Ancestors' Ring, right?" the former Runner inquired. "Size-wise it should fit. And the DHD here clearly not for show," he pointed at the console with symbols between us.
"Not for show," I agreed. "You know addresses of planets with no Wraith for sure?"
"Won't promise, but the Genii seem quiet..."
The Runner reached for the keys, but I grabbed his hand.
"What's the matter?" he asked.
"Genii are out," I explained. "Other places?"
"What, afraid of farmers?" Jensen wondered. "Genii are peaceful guys, grow beans and..."
"You been to Taranis?" I asked.
"First time hearing," the Runner confessed.
"Sateda?" I tested my luck.
"Heard of it, never been."
"Hoff?" I ran through known names in memory.
"Never heard."
"Athos?"
The Runner squinted at me.
Okay, worth a try.
"You don't want me flying to your world with you, right?" he asked.
"I'm not against allies, Alvar, but I have several problems to solve now," I said. "So I planned to drop you on a safe planet, handle home stuff, then return. And we'd sort everything. A good soldier wouldn't hurt."
"Sure," Jensen snorted, fingers touching the first key on the Jumper's DHD.
"Hey!" I tensed. "What are you doing?"
Meanwhile, blue lights already glowed on the chevron lockstones of the Gate. The Jumper noted rising energy buildup by the Gate.
"Dialing the Athosians," he replied. "You know... I'm not against your plan. But keep in mind, kid. If you intend to cooperate, I don't like secrets. Knowing a planet's name but not its address, especially Athos, a known spot for farmers and traders... Takes effort. So if you want to cooperate, at least cook up a plausible story for your quirky behavior. And yeah, I'm curious what that crystal thing was you dove into the underground for under the Wraith's nose."
The energy burst from the activated Gate coincided with a warning of two Wraith Darts heading our way.
"I'll think on your terms," directing the ship toward the Gate, I noted the cloaking dropped against my will. Looks like the Jumper can't pass through the Gate cloaked.
Emerging on the other side a microscopic interval later, I veered the ship from the Gate. The "puddle" in their center dispersed, as did the hyper tunnel linking night Athos with the Brotherhood's planet.
"I'll stay on the planet three days," said Jensen, rising from the console. He went to the cargo bay, grabbed his weapons, and exited right as I lowered the ramp.
Without goodbyes, he headed away from the Jumper.
Watching him go, I couldn't help smirking while hermetically sealing the Jumper, returning the ramp.
The guy fit the old adage: "Tough guys don't look back."
Waiting till he vanished behind trees, I turned the ship. Life sign detectors showed he'd gone over two hundred meters from the Jumper and kept heading deeper into the forest.
Excellent. Means he won't see the symbols I dialed and won't learn Atlantis's address. No other lifeforms nearby. Chance to keep my secret.
Dialing the city-ship's Gate address, I waited for the energy vortex, then with light heart directed the Jumper into the wormhole.
The next instant, familiar outlines of Atlantis's Gate Room struck my eyes. Exhaling that my first Pegasus galaxy adventure wasn't my last, I leaned back in the seat, letting the auto-landing program lift the Jumper to the upper bay.
Only then, pulling the ZPM from the hold, did I press the door hatch open button.
As soon as the metal strip moved from the opening, a painfully familiar loathsome sound slashed my ears. Repeating for a couple seconds, it looped, tearing the brain with its strain and alienness.
"This day couldn't end without some shit thrown in, could it⁈" I gritted through teeth, rushing to the exit.
I don't know what happened, but I don't like it. At minimum for one reason—the self-destruct siren wailed in the city.
***
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