"It would be better if we returned to Atlantis and asked Chaya for advice," Kiryk said, swallowing the lump that had risen in his throat.
The former runner stared into the infinite void and glanced very fearfully at the mangled bow of the Aurora.
"I completely agree," I supported him. "We're strong and brave, not 'whipped' at all. Every time there's a problem, we'll turn to a fragile and modest girl for help."
Who is older than the entire human race.
Kiryk turned cautiously toward me, trying not to bump anything extra on his light spacesuit.
"Better a little shame than death by suffocation."
Through the visor of his suit's helmet, I could see how the former runner's face had broken into a sweat. And yet, the suit has a climate control system. It's amazing how productive the human body is, having overcome the limits of clever electronics!
I cautiously, carefully clinging to the edges of the airlock, looked outside. The proximity of the Aurora, terrifying in its destruction, didn't add a bit of optimism. I understand why Kiryk doesn't think my plan is a good idea. I mean, really! Who would dare go where only metal beams of varying degrees of sharpness stick out at every known angle of three-dimensional geometry?
"Come on," I encouraged the man, patting him on the shoulder. "Is running from the Wraith, risking your life every time you come to a new world, really more terrifying than taking one little step?"
The former runner cursed.
"...yes!" That was the only printable thing I understood from his phrase. I've heard of the petty boatswain's oath. Но тут явно более тяжелая артиллерия из лексикона жителя галактики Пегас применялась.
I should take note. For broadening my horizons, naturally.
"Don't worry, Alvar said these suits can withstand an impact with a solid object if necessary," I encouraged the former runner as best I could. "Military development, after all. They flew in them in near-planetary space! And without any inertia dampeners, by the way!"
I remembered Jensen's face when I discussed my plan with him.
"Daring," he said. "But you must understand that these are suits designed for pilots. They are capable of withstanding an impact with a solid object, undoubtedly. But not when the object is flying at several hundred kilometers per second! You'll just be smeared against the nearest wall!"
I decided not to say those last two sentences to the fearful runner. The guy was already in a pre-infarction state.
Ermen military pilot suit.
The military suit wasn't too different from the scientific one. Но разница все же ощутима. Made of camouflaged fabric, it was lighter, with a greater number of polymer protective pads. And it completely lacked the mounts for small gas thrusters found on scientific suits. Well, pilots don't need to correct their flight in open space!
And right now, I really regret not taking one of the scientific suits. Yes, it's more uncomfortable, slightly more massive... but right now it would have been more useful than anything!
It also has a smaller energy reserve, but it features visor tinting. Which is useful when flying in a space fighter in a planet's orbit at huge speeds. And the clouds, the ozone layer, and the planet's magnetosphere don't save your eyes from ruthless stellar radiation. As they say, you can only look at the Sun through a regular telescope twice—once with the left eye, once with the right.
"Can you double-check one more time?" Kiryk clarified. "There must be some way to stop the ship remotely!"
"There should be," I agreed. "And it would have worked if at least some of the Aurora's main onboard systems were in order. But the ship's computer is damaged; only part of the automation is working. There's no life support, no signs of life, only minimal power consumption... It's a miracle she even responded to the call from Atlantis. If that's all, it's time to get to work," I pointed at the approaching mass of the destroyed ship.
"Are you sure you can repair the transporter chamber on board the Aurora?" Kiryk asked me.
The starship, just like the Hippaphoralkus and Atlantis, was equipped with transporter chambers. Obviously, this was the most common way to move between the planet and ships in orbit.
But scanning the Aurora showed that there were malfunctions in this system on board. The primary circuit had burned out, and a number of crystals on the secondary weren't working. I have spares, and the scanner will help redirect the energy. And essentially, to take control of the ship, we don't need to show off too much. It's enough to reach the auxiliary command post. Which has no external damage. But it's turned off—like most of the ship's systems.
"Yes," I announced. "In the worst-case scenario, if we can't do anything, we'll get to the hangar deck, take a Jumper there, and break out."
The Aurora's single hangar had significant damage and deformations. However, the scanners showed that there were two or three relatively undamaged Jumpers inside. They are our backup rescue plan number three. And its sequence number is such because the hangar doors are deformed, the hangar itself is badly mangled, and there's no guarantee we can get there.
So for now, we implement plan number one: get on board, reach the auxiliary bridge, use the engines to decelerate the ship and restore life support in the internal compartments. Most of the external ones are so badly damaged that even landing in them is life-threatening.
If everything works out, then we'll repair the transporter chamber and proceed according to plan.
"I hope this Jumper survives," Kiryk patted the hull of the Puddle Jumper we were in.
I was slowly overtaking the rapidly moving wreck to time the moment and reach the breach I needed. The task was far from simple. It was the kind that comes with a dozen asterisks.
So, given: we need to get on board an Ancient battleship flying on inertia in a vacuum at a speed ten times greater than the third cosmic velocity. Yes, exactly one hundred and sixty-seven kilometers per second. A trifle for the working sub-light engines of a ship of this class, like the Aurora or the Hippaphoralkus.
And practically at the limit of a Jumper's capabilities.
Yes, the ship had reacted to the command to slow down, and had even used its braking thrusters. But it hadn't produced any noticeable changes.
Its speed was changing insignificantly, and we don't have an indefinite amount of time for it to stop on its own.
The physics problem had to be solved with a classic solution.
To find: a way to make the ship stop or find a way to evacuate the crew members from its board.
Solution:... This is where the song and dance begins.
Docking with the Aurora is impossible. Absolutely impossible. After an hour and a half of digging through the data logs of our ship's onboard computer, I realized why it wasn't working.
For docking, both starships must drop their shields. The Aurora doesn't have any, so no problem there. But the Hippaphoralkus does. Along with working scanners and safety protocols.
So, according to them, docking is prohibited if there is a danger of damage. This protocol can be bypassed, but not with my abilities to understand the Ancient programming language.
The Hippaphoralkus's onboard computer, despite even the edits to its code from Chaya, refused to drop the shield and dock with the Aurora. Simply because we would need to approach the damaged starship so closely that its mangled bow would mangle half our side.
He would have done everything stealthily, assuring people that he was acting solely for the sake of their comfort and safety.
The maximum the ship would "agree" to was to practically match the speeds of both vessels, staying as close as possible to its damaged sibling while maintaining a parallel course with the Aurora.
"Practically matching" meant that the Hippaphoralkus was currently ahead of the Aurora by a decent distance but was slowing down, preparing to finally equalize speeds and eventually drift. Strange as it may seem, it turns out a starship in space can be brought to a complete halt. And you don't even need to turn it around to fire its engines against the original course. For that, maneuvering-braking thrusters were invented. What they do is, I think, clear from the name itself.
Alvar was piloting the ship. He didn't show it, but he was terrifyingly proud of the honor bestowed upon him.
And he was courageously terrified, realizing that a multi-kilometer stellar battleship was not the same thing as the fighter he used to command. However, this operation is revealing quite a bit of new information to me regarding Ancient technology.
For instance, the fact that a battleship launched by a crew member with the Ancient gene won't shut down until you give it the appropriate command. That is precisely why Alvar is able to control the starship. Yet, such technology doesn't work with a Puddle Jumper.
Curious. I suspect this is somehow connected to the Ancients' division into the titular and lesser races.
Anyway, this is all just pre-mission jitters before a suicidal undertaking.
Why suicidal? Well, it's simple.
The only way to get on board the Aurora is to physically move onto it. In the TV show, the humans used Asgard beaming technology for this. It allowed an object to be moved from one point to another by turning it into pure energy. It's similar to how Stargates and Ancient transporter booths work. Except without the need to link the equipment to a similar platform on the other side. Take it from anywhere, move it to anywhere. Yes, there are limitations, like shields or specific jamming, which the Wraith have, for example.
We could use technology like that too. But there's a catch—you need the Asgard for it. A splinter group of their society exists in the Pegasus Galaxy; the rest live... in their own galaxy, called either Ida or Aida. And where that is, I haven't the slightest clue.
So, lacking the fine parchment, we'll use plain sketchbook paper with bits of wood.
Initially, my idea involved calculating the ships' speeds and jumping out of the Hippaphoralkus while in motion. Taking into account the velocity gained from the push, the Aurora's speed, the distance between the ships, the width of the damaged battleship's hull, and the magnets built into the soles and gauntlets of the environmental suits, there was a good chance—given a lucky break—of landing somewhere on the Aurora's hull, reaching the nearest doors, opening them manually, and getting inside. And then, following the plan, reaching the right place and doing what was necessary.
There was only one downside to the plan, dubbed "Dementia and Courage": most likely, any jumper would be smeared across the Aurora's ancient bulkheads like a fly on a windshield. No, honestly, the Hippaphoralkus even helped with the calculations; there were good chances of landing right in one of the massive breaches in the hull, latching onto the metal with magnets, killing the inertia, and...
I got scared. Because... what if it doesn't work? Some unaccounted-for factor, and that's it—at best, I die. I'm not sure even an Ancient personal shield would save me from death upon impact. At worst, my acrobatics fail, Her Majesty Randomness intervenes, I fail to latch on, and I go flying into deep space, swearing and calling upon higher powers. Because I have serious doubts that Alvar, controlling the Hippaphoralkus with nothing but buttons, would be able to "catch" me in the battleship's open hangar doors.
So, the plan had to be changed. A small addition in the form of a Jumper and a supply of food, medicine, and ammunition in the aft compartment for unforeseen circumstances, and—voilà!
We flew out of the Hippaphoralkus hangar in the Jumper, several hundred thousand kilometers ahead of the Aurora. Using the Jumper's directional scanners, I managed to stabilize the ship relative to the spot where we needed to "land," equalizing speeds with the Aurora as best I could to avoid the fly-and-windshield scenario...
The plan was brilliant—fly parallel to the battleship and slowly tuck the aft section of the ship directly into a notable hole from which the inner sections of the battleship could be reached. If we were lucky, the Jumper would take minimal damage and become the escape route for Plan Number Three, but marked "Alpha." Which made it a higher priority than a trek to the Aurora's hangar for theoretically functional Jumpers.
But...
Thank you, Her Majesty Chance!
The Jumper's engines, already working at the limit (and slightly beyond) of their speed and under prolonged load, died. The velocity we had gained in the vacuum was practically not dissipating. And the Jumper's systems refused to come back to life. Effectively, we were now in a small, Ancient-built coffin drifting by inertia.
So, we continued to fly over the Aurora's hull, but in the projection of a massive breach right behind the stern. At the same time, we were loading ourselves up with everything we could carry onto the starship.
Simultaneously, I listened to Alvar's words about the stellar wind in the surrounding space increasing by such-and-such points... And for us right now, it was that very "windage adjustment" that snipers take into account when shooting at long distances.
Our distance wasn't small either—a kilometer or so. And the situation was complicated by the fact that the damn stellar wind was blowing the Jumper sideways. A little more, and we would be out of the zone where we could land where we wanted.
Therefore... even if not from the deck of the Hippaphoralkus, we would still have to jump into the unknown.
And the only thing that could help me with the calculations right now was my own brain. But it was currently far too busy chewing on thoughts of what a cruel death I was about to die.
We only had two attempts at success. If we fail, nothing is likely to save us. No wizard in a blue Jumper is going to fly in.
"Misha, in ten minutes you'll be completely blown away from the bridge," Alvar warned me.
Well, the jitters were gone; it was time to act.
"I'm jumping first," Kirik didn't look any more cheerful than he had a minute ago when I was lost in thought. "As soon as I'm secure, I'll pull you in by the tether," he tugged at the metal cable clipped to his belt. "If you see me drifting away from the target, try to hit the right spot on your second attempt, or at least latch onto the hull. Then you can pull me in. Don't forget your bag with tools and parts. They're the most important thing right now."
"I remember the plan," Kirik replied shortly. "But it would be better if you managed it on your own."
I bet.
In addition to the tether connecting us both, two bags with the essentials we would need on board the damaged ship were clipped to my belt. Most of the supplies had to be left in the Jumper's lockers.
Sigh...
Gripping the edges of the Jumper's exit hatch with both hands, I looked at the ugly behemoth of the damaged starship. I felt like that person who signed up for skydiving but suddenly changed his mind at the edge of the plane. Because he saw just how small the Earth was beneath his feet. But how hard it looked...
"Nine minutes!"
"One small push for a man..." I began, bending my knees and pushing off from the Jumper's threshold.
The magnetic boots deactivated normally.
And I hurtled toward the disfigured superstructure of the Ancient ship.
***
When people say they aren't afraid, they're lying. Or they're psychos.
Fear is one of the natural instincts that looks after the self-preservation of a foolish head.
Jumping into open space toward a rushing Ancient battleship is terrifying. Especially when you realize that if you miss, your life depends entirely on a guy who knows even less about space than you do.
Weightlessness... a strange sensation. No gravity, no pressure from any side. Only a thought thumping in my head: "This ship isn't big enough to have its own gravity!" Actually... why on earth should it have any at all, huh?
Stupid thoughts crawl into the brain to suppress fear and despair. I really wanted to be in the safety of the Jumper, trying to resuscitate it one more time. I really wanted someone, anyone, to suddenly drop onto my head and stop me from doing this.
But the Universe is angry with me. Neither the Ascended, nor the humans from Earth, nor the Wraith, nor the Asgard, nor even Chaya came to the rescue. Moreover, as it turned out, Alvar can't even control all the active systems without me on board. Including subspace communication. They didn't try the hyperdrive either—there's a chance the smart ship would set a return course for Atlantis, and that wouldn't help us at all. We certainly wouldn't last two weeks next to the Aurora.
The only chance for salvation was the ruined battleship. And a prayer to those who built it that there was something left to fix.
Alvar knows that in the worst-case scenario, if neither I nor Kirik can achieve the desired result, he'll have to use Koschei's help. He's already been taken out of the drug-induced coma and should regain consciousness soon. In about an hour. There's three hours of oxygen left in our suits. That very salvation chance number four in all its glory.
The disfigured superstructure of the ship, protruding like a semicircular dome from the top of the Aurora's midsection, was approaching. Much faster than I would have liked.
I became so scared that cold paralyzed my spine. We were closing in inexorably—me and the disfigured ten-thousand-year-old starship.
"Seven minutes," Alvar reported.
Wait, damn it! Where did the other two minutes go?! What distance were we even at from the Aurora? Two minutes is one hundred and twenty seconds, the battleship is flying at a speed of one hundred and seventy kilometers per second, which means...
Aaaah!!! A metal beam is flying straight at my face! And to hell with it if it were sticking out lower or from the main hull! It's protruding right above the bridge! About ten meters from the Aurora's hull! I missed the battleship! I jumped too "high"!
The ill-fated beam is about a hundred meters away, or so it seems, but I have a distinct feeling it will simply skewer me through, and no personal shield will help!
"Mikhail, are you alive?!" a concerned Kirik inquired.
"Not if you can help it, damn it!" I hissed through my teeth, realizing the beam was flying past me about a meter to the right... And, if I did something stupid!
My brain latched onto the thought that the impulse wasn't stupid at all. I reached out, activating the magnets in my gloves to grab onto the beam. After all, what difference did it make where exactly I caught the ship, right?
The glove touched the metal, the magnet activation light flickered, I rejoiced...
And in the next second, receiving a hellish jerk that nearly tore my arm out of my shoulder along with half the suit, I hurtled in the opposite direction! Parallel to the Aurora, not toward it!
Screaming frantically and tumbling in space, I felt my empty stomach stick to my heart. Everything was spinning before my eyes so rapidly that for a moment I felt like I'd been put in a blender.
Several times I caught sight of the tether coiling behind my back, there were the engine lights of the Hippaphoralkus, there was the Aurora, oh! That's the Aurora's ruined bridge, where I intended to land! Except it's flying past! Five to ten meters, at a guess. But that's perfectly enough to go flying off into deep space! And I can see I'm gradually moving away from the ship! Meaning, hello vacuum, we'll be freezing together!
"I overshot!" The adrenaline in my blood made me speak louder than usual. My heart was pounding as if it were about to burst out of my chest like an Alien. Burst out and punch its stupid owner in the face! "Kirik, when you jump, aim lower than I did!"
"There's about a kilometer of cable left," he said quickly. "It's unspooling very fast..."
Of course it's fast! Because I'm not flying in a straight line, but in a spiral, tumbling like an idiot! Look at how many loops I've already wound around that beam and... If I had gone down sharply, it would have...
During another somersault, I nearly smeared myself against some part of the Aurora hurtling toward me. Only luck saved me from that. Damn it, everything happens in the blink of an eye here! The ship isn't infinite, you bitch! I need to act!
I grabbed the firearm on my hip. A thought pounded in my head: would it fire in a vacuum? After all, the combustion reaction of the gunpowder, or whatever the Ermens put in the casings, needs oxygen... Wait, damn it! What oxygen?! The bullet is crimped in the casing so tightly that nothing gets in! It's a closed system, otherwise, when the primer was struck, the chemical ignition would blow the pistol apart! Or the shot would be a dud!
I really hope that's the case!
Timing the moment when my back would be to the ship, I pulled the trigger, aiming into the vastness of space. And praying that the inertia of the shot would be stronger than the rotational speed I had gained from the jerk...
Naturally, it was silent, but the pistol fired. I knew this from the casing ejected by the chamber. For a while, my body experienced unpleasant sensations—forces were fighting each other... The rotational force won. But it slowed down significantly.
Aha, you bitch! You can't cheat physics! Alchemists tried, but they were burned!
After the third shot, the inertia of closing with the ship proved stronger than the speed giving me the rotation. I had to fire once more to avoid smearing myself against another protrusion on the ship's body. Stop, you old bitch! Stop! Brake! Where are you going, you mechanical beast! I came to save you! Turn on the engines before I fly past! Hey, you fucker!
The Aurora's stern was approaching very quickly. And if it didn't work now, I was done for...
"Misha, Kirik, get ready! The Aurora is about to start braking hard!" Alvar informed me.
"You don't say?!" I hissed. From my perspective, hardly anything had changed. And why on earth would the ship suddenly decide to brake? But fine, I'll take your word for it! "Kirik, are you ready?!"
"I'm already flying!" was the reply.
You bitch, you could have at least warned me!
At the very moment I was ready to grab the Aurora's hull near the superstructure, my hand caught only vacuum. The starship's midsection had simply ended...
Resembling a syringe pulled to its limit, the Aurora was now flashing its "piston" before me. And in just a bit, the wide stern would appear, and that would be it—game over.
Because I was out of ammo, damn it! And the bag with ammunition and tools had been torn off during the spinning! Good thing the tether was still in place and...
Before my visor flashed the free end of the metal cable I was connected to Kirik with. And at its end dangled the very loop that had been ripped from the belt on my back. Good thing it wasn't with a piece of the suit!
Bad day! A hellishly bad day!
Now it was already noticeable that the Aurora was indeed working no better than a computer with a maxed-out hard drive. That is, it was braking significantly. Except I wasn't braking! I kept flying and...
My hand felt something on my other hip. Looking there, I pulled a spare magazine for the pistol out of the pocket. Good thing I had the sense not to throw the latter away! Or rather, I just hadn't had time!
Reloading in space isn't for everyone. But on the second attempt, I managed! Pointing the weapon away from the cable, I fired.
The inertia carried me toward the web of metal cable, after which I grabbed the nearest part of it, wound it around my arm as hard as I could, gripped tighter, and fired away from the ship.
The impulse threw me toward the ship. With the next one, I corrected the course. Then again.
On the fifth bullet, I managed to achieve a flight in a straight line. I briefly outlined the course correction method to Kirik, internally swearing for not having thought of it myself beforehand!
The former fugitive would only start acting after I ran out of my last magazine. He was much closer to the ship now than I was. But something told me he might not be able to fly on gunshots as well as I did.
The Aurora's stern was about a kilometer away from me, and I could see its dark engines before me. But, strange. I was flying in a straight line, and if the ship were moving, its parts would be flashing before my face and...
The Aurora was standing still. And there could only be two explanations for this.
And since I didn't see any signs of energy on board, then...
Lifting my head, I swore quietly.
"Alvar, tell me that was the best of the options..."
"The only one we could think of, Misha," Alvar said sadly. "The ship's systems are shutting down one by one. Koschei was able to put the battleship exactly on the Aurora's course and kill its speed against us. The shields held; the hull wasn't damaged. At least on our end. The ships are in a dead drift... And I think that's all we have left."
"Whatever you intend to do, human," the Wraith's raspy voice came through, "do it quickly. In a few hours, we won't even have oxygen left. Life support will be the next to shut down after..."
His signal cut out. From this distance, I couldn't even spot the glow of the portholes on the Hippaphoralkus. It seems I overestimated the "turn on the ship and leave it to friends" ability.
Presumably, communication with the ship cut out before life support. Which meant I'd have to put in some serious effort...
With the penultimate bullet, I managed to correct my course to land in one of the large breaches on the Aurora's hull. There were clearly quite a few in the tail section. Likely that was the reason the ship had been flying by inertia.
Flying inside the broken ship, I hit a bulkhead with my shoulder in relief, turned on the magnets on my boots and gloves. Almost immediately, I exhaled in relief. So much so that the visor before my face fogged up.
On the other side of the glass, double doors leading inside the ship looked back at me. I made it.
I've probably gone gray, but I made it.
"I'm on board," I muttered, though I knew it was unlikely anyone could hear me. Possibly only Kirik...
"If you can, pull me to you as quickly as possible," the former fugitive said with relief in his voice. "Because I'm a kilometer from the ship... Good thing the tether didn't break."
Lucky son of a bitch.
"Don't relax," I advised. "Better yet, pull yourself along the tether with your hands, like climbing a rope. I'm not sure we have the time or I have the strength to pull you in."
If only I could remember how long this metal rope of ours was...