The 'jumper' entered the atmosphere of the second and last planet in the Lantian system without much trouble. My fears that the ionized atmosphere (which the ship's scanners warned about) might interfere with communication systems were based on the fact that it was like that in the series.
But, in fact, it turned out not to be entirely so.
Yes, the atmospheric ionization was off the charts compared to Lantea. And yes, it did affect the stable operation of the 'jumper's' communication systems. While I had only those on board who didn't understand the Ancients' technologies well, I conducted some research.
"What's that?" Kirik asked, seeing a blinking red dot on the virtual screen displaying a schematic piece of the second planet's surface in the system.
"A subspace transmitter working on Wraith frequencies," I explained. Feeling my companions tense up, I added:
"It's too weak to summon the nearest Wraiths here. The ionized atmosphere weakens it so much that it doesn't spread beyond the low orbit of this planet."
"Otherwise, the Wraiths would have arrived by now," Tayla realized.
"Exactly," I confirmed. "The other question is why they didn't detect their ship and the one who sent this message immediately when attacking Atlantis."
"Good question," Kirik agreed, pulling an Ermen pistol from his hip holster and checking the rounds in the magazine. The man moved to the aft compartment and began to equip himself for the upcoming sortie.
Like us, he didn't need to be explained the advantages of Ermen uniforms and armor for long. True, he liked the tactical vests and armor elements less than the comfortable load-bearing vests, pouches, and external pockets, which he had stuffed with ammunition to the brim.
We brought a considerable amount of weapons from Ermen. And, despite expecting it to be quite monotonous – one or two models for each type of firearm – it turned out not to be the case.
Weapon production in Alvar's civilization flourished. A couple of state-owned enterprises, small workshops engaged in small-batch production… It doesn't quite fit with developing the economy of a planet whose population, even in its best years, hardly exceeded the official population of Moscow in its best times.
But, one way or another, Atlantis's arsenals had accumulated up to fifty different types and models of weapons. Only a couple of mortar batteries, or multiple rocket launchers, were missing to form a separate assault battalion with attached heavy weapons. However, a couple of barrel cannons would have been enough for me…
If only they were there.
What's the saying? Demand determines supply? Well, in a galaxy inhabited by bloodthirsty Wraiths, weapons are developed primarily to counter them. Why create tanks, submarines, ballistic missiles, barrel artillery, or something similar, if the enemy has never had and does not have such armaments?
What's the use of a tank or an IFV if a Wraith, flying over the "box" on a "strela," can carry away the crew without breaching the armor? What's the point of developing barrel or rocket artillery if the Wraiths will never attack in dense formations, dig trenches, or turn houses into pillboxes?
No, the Wraiths have significantly influenced the development of warfare in the Pegasus galaxy.
Small arms are needed because the enemy has a lot of infantry. And they can appear in positions literally out of thin air, deployed by a "strela." But they don't attack in waves, don't capture strongholds, and so on.
Weapons are developed to counter the enemy's specific tactics. And the Wraiths, relying on their technological advantage, actually don't have that many strengths.
Their ships and ability to conduct orbital bombardments can only be countered by our own ships or weapons capable of firing at orbital targets. The Ermen only managed to create fighters equally effective for combat both in the atmosphere and in near space. Logically, when based on spacecraft, they can serve as starship aviation.
But, these are details.
The Wraiths have a lot of infantry capable of withstanding a large number of wounds – so to destroy them, large-caliber small arms and grenades are needed. The Wraiths don't act in large groups, so the need for artillery and even mortars is eliminated. This approach justifies the extensive development of small arms and explosive weapons.
Understanding that their fighters were too few to repel an attack by even a hundred "arrows," the Ermen also focused on developing anti-aircraft artillery. But not in the area of rapid-fire automatic or semi-automatic cannons. I saw several damaged samples—in fact, they were something between Earth's "Erlikons" and heavy machine guns. Twenty-five-millimeter explosive rounds... Yes, a good defense method.
Portable anti-aircraft missile systems were only just beginning to be developed by the people of Alvar, and they hadn't progressed beyond prototypes and small-scale production. In fact, Alvar on Sudaria used the vast majority of what remained in storage. We managed to dig up and deliver another fifty complexes, very similar to the American "Stingers" but the size of a "Mucha" grenade launcher, to Atlantis.
Otherwise... Pistols, revolvers, submachine guns, assault rifles, sniper rifles, machine guns—handheld and mounted, grenades... It would be a sin to complain, really. After all, the Ermen went the route of standardizing requirements and calibers for each type of weapon. A single type, as well as type, caliber for pistol, revolver (though this is mostly ceremonial and award weapons), rifle, machine gun, and anti-aircraft types.
So rifle cartridges, for example, are equally useful and effective in Alvar's favorite "Ala-FAMAS" rifle and in the SIG Sayger-like assault rifle, favored by Kirik.
By the way, the Ermen didn't have a "pure" assault rifle as a weapon type. And it's no wonder, since a single sample cartridge for the assault rifle was adopted for service. In fact, their pistol is not just a pistol, but more of a submachine gun, or a pistol with automatic firing capability.
What was pleasing about weapons of Ermen production was their size. Their "assault rifles" were as compact as an assault rifle with a detachable stock, with short barrels, but at the same time were equally effective for medium and close-range combat. Of course, I wouldn't risk fighting with them in houses, but, as Alvar explained to me, large-caliber pistols (by my standards) were created for this purpose. A large explosive round, excellent stopping power... What else do you need if you suddenly meet a regenerating wraith face-to-face? Earthlings, for example, "standard" Berettas couldn't handle the task at all. You could put half a magazine or a whole one into a wraith, and it still wouldn't fall... And it didn't even stop.
But, these are all details I didn't delve into much. Not yet, as I use the Ancient's pulse blaster pistol. It perfectly turns a whole wraith into a not-so-whole one at a distance of fifty meters. Yes, the rate of fire is one shot per second, but with such destructive power... Why more?
What amused me was how the names of Ermen weapons echoed Earth ones. Alvar's rifle, similar to the FAMAS, was named "Amas." And the one Kirik chose was "Alash." It touched me deeply that here too, people name weapons after their creators.
Kirik explained his choice of "Alash" by saying it fit well in his hand, was light, and compact. Yes, the magazine holds not forty-five rounds, like in the "Amas" preferred by Alvar, but only thirty. But even this increases the weight and convenience of the weapon for him.
Teyla was of the same opinion, having tried the new assault rifle. By the way, the official name of this type is SHAV. SHAV "Amas," SHAV "Alash"... Assault automatic rifle of such-and-such model. And yes, no numbers for new generations or modifications—it's the same rifle as before. Or a new one was created if the need arose.
For example, the "Amas" was a rifle of the previous generation—precisely because of its heavy weight when loaded, its overly complex design, and the large amount of metal in its body.
The "Alash" came to replace it, but couldn't completely oust the "Amas" from production. The army kept the former, while law enforcement and civilians favored the latter. And yes, perhaps the Ermen government acted wisely by allowing the free circulation of weapons on the planet. After all, living in constant danger of sudden raids disciplines people in handling weapons.
Indeed... And no frequent military attacks, robberies, and so on... Of course, if Alvar isn't embellishing stories about his homeland.
Kirik's assault rifle, "Alash."
In the events known to me, Earthlings preferred close-quarters combat, no more than a hundred meters. And they used Belgian FN90 submachine guns for this. I don't know why the Americans didn't impose their "best" automatic rifles, but such weapons...
Perhaps I don't know much about waging war against alien enemies, but... No, seriously! The "Belgian" has many advantages, of course. But against wraiths... The cartridge used by the "Belgian" has excellent penetration properties, but...
Okay, I'm probably just nitpicking. It doesn't matter much to me now. To understand what Ermen weapons do to wraiths, I only need to recall my encounter with Alvar on Sudaria. He then shredded wraiths like a salad. And this, despite the fact that the "Amas" is inferior to the "Alash" in rate of fire.
Things...
"We're approaching the surface," I warned my companions. "It's not the kind of planet you want to return to. Sandy surface, sparse vegetation, dunes, a lot of open space. No signs of life detected."
"Are you sure there's a wraith here?" Teyla clarified, returning to the cockpit fully equipped. Glancing at her "Alash," I silently approved. The Athosian was the only one of my three "fighters" who always kept her weapon on safety when not in combat. Alvar and Kirik preferred not to waste extra seconds before starting a fight.
"Maybe the equipment is malfunctioning at this distance?" Kirik asked, settling into the chair behind me. Hmm, it seems he's feeling better. Or perhaps the anticipation of a fight with a wraith that has lived on this planet for over ten thousand years inspired him. "You yourself mentioned interference."
"It's in the atmosphere," I reminded him. "We've already entered the lower layers of the atmosphere. The troposphere here is quite peculiar, about five kilometers from the surface, but there's much less interference here than in the stratosphere."
View of the landscapes of the second planet of the Lantian system.
"Did the Ancients give this world a name?" Teyla asked, interested.
"They weren't particularly interested in planets without stargates," I explained. "And the technology of these devices doesn't allow for more than one to be installed in a solar system."
"Why?" Kirik asked, interested.
"When they are located close to each other, the addresses of one gate overlap with the others," I explained. "This is a barely fixable 'glitch,' so when different gates are close to each other, you can dial the address of one planet and end up on another. Not the most pleasant surprise, really."
However, these are just my guesses. Whether this is true within a single star system, I can only guess. But within a single planet—yes, that's exactly how it happens. Earthlings in the events known to me experienced this (as always) firsthand when, as a result of an unfortunate accident, people were transferred from the gate they used to the one in Antarctica, installed by the Ancients millions of years ago.
But, I think it wouldn't have been a great effort for the Ancients to place gates on every planet that interested them, even within a single star system. If, of course, it didn't cause a certain paradox.
I'll have to talk to Chaya about this when I get the chance. Maybe she knows the answer or can find a solution to such a problem, write some kind of program or something like that.
"If they had ships capable of traveling between planets in a single star system, then yes, there's no great point in placing gates on every planet in the system," Kirik unexpectedly approved of the Ancients' actions. "Have you already considered the possibility of building a backup base on this planet? Say, an underground shelter in case Atlantis falls?"
"And why would we need a base on a planet without gates?" I asked.
"But if Atlantis falls, its gates will disappear too, won't they?" Kirik clarified.
And here I have nothing to counter.
The idea is actually not as superficial as it might seem at first glance. No, really, it's a brilliant idea!
If we can create a backup base here, and even equip it with stargates, and secure it, then why not? And it's not even about creating a quiet little place for ourselves in case Atlantis perishes. This base and this planet could be used as a prison, for example, without worrying about prisoners escaping (just don't leave the dialing device). And, we could fly here, say, on a "jumper," where the dialing device is integrated into the ship's systems.
Or, there could be a laboratory here, which Chaya so desires, outside of Atlantis. And we wouldn't have to spend fifteen hours flying between planets. We wouldn't even need to drag a satellite from here to Lantea then!
In short, the idea is indeed excellent.
There's just one nuance.
By this point, the "jumper" had already descended to an altitude of two hundred meters above the surface of the sandy planet.
"We don't have an interstellar ship that would allow us to deliver new gates here," I explained. "To place them here, we need to take them from somewhere. And that's clearly about another star system. We can't get there on the 'Jumper.' At least not in our lifetime."
"Perhaps we can use this ship?" Teyla asked, pointing to the landscape that opened before our eyes. Extremely uncharacteristic for this planet.
"Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you a downed wraith transport ship," I announced the affiliation of the behemoth lying on the planet's surface. Only a small part of the ancient starship is visible—most of the ship is hidden under the sand. "It's been lying here for ten thousand years, shot down by the very satellite that Chaya and Alvar are currently repairing."
"And somewhere inside is a wraith that hasn't died of starvation in all this time?" Kirik clarified. "I doubt that's possible. They are extremely hardy, but still dependent on food..."
The man faltered, clearly catching the meaning of my words.
"Usually, wraiths don't need transport ships," Emagan said. "I've never heard of them ever using them. All their equipment is on hive ships."
All, but not all. I wonder, does she really not guess, or just not want to believe it?
"I think after the war with the Lantians, the need for such ships disappeared," I suggested. "Or they were all destroyed and no longer bred. For lack of need. After all, the siege of Atlantis was lifted, and there was no longer a need to supply food to the blockade forces."
Downed wraith transport ship. Still from the series.
Teyla shuddered.
"When you talk about food, do you mean what I think?" she asked quietly.
"Exactly," I nodded. "This ship was carrying people to feed tens of thousands of wraiths besieging Atlantis. Thousands upon thousands of people..."
"By feeding on them, the wraiths could survive," Kirik said. "It would be foolish to attack such an object with just the three of us. They might set an ambush..."
I closed my eyes for a moment, activating certain systems of the "jumper."
"And we're not going to climb inside," I explained the reason for the glowing lights rushing towards the wrecked ship. "We'll knock on the front door and invite the wraith for a chat."
At that moment, four guided projectiles from the Ancients plunged into the upper part of the downed ship. Powerful explosions shook the entire structure to its foundation. And they definitely woke up everyone who was sleeping there.
"It seems you said this would be a sabotage operation, a hunt," Kirik reminded me. "And it implies stealthily following the prey."
"Exactly," I agreed, making the "jumper" circle over the downed wraith ship without active invisibility. "But first, we'll lure the prey out of its lair and send it on the trail."
I noticed two interesting facts at once.
First—a red dot appeared on the "jumper's" virtual screen. Directly in the wreckage of the downed wraith ship.
Second—Teyla fell silent and became more focused, as if sensing something invisible to us. Although, I already know what it is.
And yes, both events I noted are related. A direct cause-and-effect relationship, if you will. I think Teyla will soon reveal her little secret to us.
Well, if not, then I have a backup plan on how to implement what I know about her and some representatives of her people, without revealing my foreknowledge. I need to be more careful in such matters.
"Is that a wraith?" the former fugitive clarified.
"The very same. The sole survivor of the entire crew. And, since we've awakened him, it's time to direct him where he's needed most."
"A hunt for the hunter?" Kirik asked, interested.
"Exactly," I grinned, continuing to circle over the enemy's old starship.
Over the years, he had awakened from hibernation many times.
The wraith commander of the transport starship, one of many that provided food for his brethren during the attack on Atlantis, broke free from the embrace of the stasis pod. The barely functioning device had sustained his life for centuries, millennia, which he had lost count of.
But never before had his awakening been linked to an attack on the wreckage of his ship. Some time ago, he would have even worried that such an incident could damage the cargo. But the thousands of food storage chambers had long since been empty.
As were the dead members of his crew—the commander had fed on them and the transported human cattle during his long hibernation.
Survivor wraith.
Through the destruction in the ship's hull, damaged by the fall, he could see the reason for leaving the stasis pod. A small Lantian starship was patrolling over the wreckage, as if searching for something.
The wraith bared his teeth, feeling his blood begin to boil with anticipation of the upcoming feeding. The commander, grabbing a combat-ready stunner pistol, rushed towards the exit of the wrecked ship.
Hiding under a protruding part of the ship, he discerned that the Lantian starship was heading towards a large dune half a kilometer from the crash site. They decided no one was here, so they went to land. Intending to inspect the starship?
Perhaps.
However, two circumstances were confusing. First—the sensation of a weak mental response from a fellow wraith. Too weak, perhaps, degenerated or dying. Second—only Lantians or races assimilated by them could pilot Lantian ships. Like wraiths, Lantians used genetic locks for such complex technology, protecting it from use by other intelligent beings.
The presence of a very weak wraith piqued his interest. When his ship fell, Atlantis was under siege. The Lantians couldn't win that war—they simply wouldn't have enough resources. But their ship is here.
Could it be that someone from his people managed to capture such a ship? Possibly. After all, thousands of years have passed.
He didn't sense any other wraiths nearby, including in orbit. So, there was no hive ship or cruiser nearby. And no other brethren either. Then what is the ship and its intriguing passenger doing here?
For a moment, he thought that the Lantians had somehow managed to turn the tide of the war, and now wraiths were an endangered species. But he quickly dismissed this foolish thought.
With giant strides, more jumping over the sand than walking on it, the commander reached the crest of the dune and lay in wait. An interesting picture opened up to him.
A Lantian shuttle with its ramp lowered. Two sets of tracks leading in different directions and disappearing beyond another dune. No sentries, no defensive structures. Why did the crew leave? Perhaps the ship is damaged?
Looking closer, he saw that three sets of tracks led to his right, turning towards his downed ship. Did they go to scout the wreckage? Possibly. All the better.
Or, perhaps, an ambush was being set for him⁈ Possibly. He himself would have done so. But he felt the weak wraith moving away.
He had to act.
But which of his guesses was correct, he didn't know. And it's pointless to guess, he needs to check everything personally.
Ensuring that he could barely sense the presence of the weak wraith within his mentality, the survivor rose and rushed towards the ship. His stunner was ready to attack at the slightest hint of danger.
The survivor descended the dune he had chosen in large leaps, steadily approaching the Lantian starship. When he got within fifty paces, he felt someone's presence inside the starship. And it was definitely not a wraith.
A human voice. So, he had to act quickly.
"Good that you repaired the main systems," the man seemed to be talking to someone in the cockpit. "What energy surplus are we getting from your generator?"
He didn't hear the answer—the man was speaking on a personal communication device.
"So, this should be enough to install shields, a cloaking or protective field, and also to connect the engines?" approval appeared in the voice of the young man standing in the cargo bay with his back to the open hatch of the Lantian ship. It seemed he didn't expect to hear something like this from his invisible interlocutor. It's unlikely he was talking about his ship—it's beyond repair. So, something in orbit? Perhaps the very satellite that shot down his ship thousands of years ago? Interesting. He should interrogate this whippersnapper before drinking his life. "Excellent. This is really good news. As soon as we finish with the wraith ship on the surface, we'll return and fly to Atlantis."
Atlantis! The Lantian city-ship! It survived⁈
More questions than answers.
And the survivor already knew who would give him the necessary information.
Taking a run-up, he pushed off from the loose soil a dozen feet from the entrance hatch. Taking to the air, he intended to perform his signature move—attack the enemy from above, knock him down, and pin him with all his weight before drinking his life.
This will be the most delightful feeding in all the years! He will taste a Lantian again! This person, inside a working ship from Atlantis, could be no one else...
As the survivor was already imagining the feeling of euphoria from feeding, he felt a blow. As if he had crashed into an invisible wall with his whole body at full speed. Pain engulfed his torso, throwing him onto the sand.
For a moment, he saw a white-blue shield in front of him, surrounding the Lantian ship.
Roaring, the survivor lunged forward, jumping to his feet.
"Hello," the same young dark-haired man said with amusement in his voice. He looked at the survivor without the slightest fear in his eyes. And he also had a weapon in his hands.
The wraith raised his stunner, firing at the energy field. Even if not strongly, the charge would weaken it. These ships don't have very strong barriers, it can be broken through...
The weapon in the Lantian's hands spat fire and thunder.
At the same moment, the survivor's armor shrieked, taking a charge of metal on its surface. The inertia threw the wraith onto his back. Feeling pain in three or more places on his torso, he got up as quickly as he had the last time.
"You can't kill me, punk!" he roared, moving out of the Lantian's line of fire. "I've drunk the life of the Ancients! I've fed on thousands of humans and hundreds of my crew members!"
"I know," the man stepped out of the ship, but still remained under the shield's protection. "That's why I'm here."
The weapon in the human's hands clearly had nothing to do with energy. Because it spat out pieces of metal that tore the survivor's flesh to shreds. But it wasn't the kind of pain that could stop him from carrying out his plan.
He lunged to the side, circling the ship in an arc. His stunner was firing at the shield at maximum rate of fire, gradually depleting it. It only takes fifty, maybe more, charges for the defense to break down and give him access to the ship's interior. Without protection, this punk can't do anything to him!
The man, as he had predicted, followed him, continuing to shoot. But the wraith commander was too fast for the clumsy opponent. Bullets kicked up large fountains of sand behind him, but caused almost no harm. And how could they, when there are the lives of thousands of living beings in his body? And this strength, though not long-lasting, is still present in him.
Circling around the cockpit, the wraith roared when another of his shots spread not across the shield, but across the ship's hull. Through the panoramic window, he saw the lights inside the small Lantian shuttle burning. This means he can launch it even without the Lantian gene!
With one leap, the wraith was on the ship's roof. Instead of circling it on the other side, he proceeded across the roof.
A burst of ammunition dug into his back, causing unimaginable pain to the survivor. The force of the blows tore his clothes and rendered the rear part of his armored cuirass useless. The wraith tumbled head over heels onto the sand.
But he fell successfully—next to the open entrance.
Overcoming the pain, leaving his own healing to regeneration, the surviving commander rushed inside the ship. He had been on similar starships before, so his hand habitually went to the latch button of the stern hatch. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed huge bruises on his greenish skin—he had received wounds from the opponent's bullets in these places.
But the damage was healing before his eyes.
Behind him, he heard the sound of drives working, raising the ramp and sealing the small ship. The survivor, limping on a leg injured and damaged during the fall, reached the cockpit. The instrument panel glowed with internal lighting... He rushed to the controls, intending to lift the ship into the air.
"R-A-A-A-A-A-A-A!!!" he roared in a hoarse bass as the control panel went dark right in front of him.
The same surviving wraith.
Powerless rage passed with a cry of helplessness. He looked again at the dead control panel, then heard the mechanism unlocking the hatch working behind him.
Throwing himself back to stun the opponent, he spread his arms to embrace and knock him down. As they rolled on the sand, it would be easy for the wraith to tear the clothes on the Lantian's chest and begin to feed. First, he would regain his strength, and then he would learn everything he wanted.
Before taking the remnants of the human's life.
For the second time in five minutes, the survivor ran into a wall. His face smeared across the white-green glow surrounding a mockingly smiling man. A punch to the face sent the wraith flying sideways from the man.
"How?!" the survivor got to his feet, a little slower than the first time, glaring at the sentient being.
"Magic, man, it exists," the man replied. His weapon was back in his hands and roared before the survivor could get out of the way.
Bullets riddled the survivor's body, tearing chunks of flesh from him. Falling onto the sand, the wraith realized that his torso was not injured. The man had shot his legs and practically shattered both of his shins. What remained and slowly regenerated was unable to keep the body upright.
"I'll get you, human!" the wraith assured him. "You can't kill me! My reserves of strength are immense!"
"Perhaps," the young man agreed, picking up the stun pistol that had fallen from the survivor's hands. "But it's precisely for that reserve that I decided to capture you, Koschei. I hope you don't mind the name? You have something in common – paleness, immortality…"
Gathering all his strength into a fist, the survivor lunged at the man. But he was thrown aside when the butt of the Lantian's rifle slammed into his face. Flipping over, the wraith, named Koschei, bared his teeth and started to run away.
He just needed to hide behind the dune to…
Before the survivor could finish his thought, two more people appeared on the crest of the dune from where he had been watching the ship. A man and a woman, holding the same firearms as the owner of the small transport ship of Atlantis.
Trying to attack them, Koschei took several blasts directly to the chest. His armor plates shrieked, but the pain throughout his body did not escape him.
The light in the survivor's eyes died out.