Has anyone ever thrown you under a hydraulic press?
To the bottom of the Mariana Trench?
Or at least from the stratosphere without a parachute?
No?
Then you won't understand what I felt at the moment the 'Hippaphoralkus' lurched forward like a wild beast. The platform and the command chair were equipped with improved inertial dampeners, but even within their range, I felt as if a steamroller had run over me. And, being sticky, I got wound around its roller. And I traveled quite cheerfully for about…
"We're five hundred thousand kilometers from the 'Aurora's' explosion site," a voice from above reported. I couldn't identify it at all, as it came through a thick layer of water… Which wasn't anywhere around.
But for some reason, everything in my eyes was orange-red… And warm…
"Could you get off me before the others regain consciousness?" the same voice asked. It sounded like a baritone.
That's sad.
It's doubly sad that the baritone is actually a male voice. I have nothing against members of my own sex… Nor the desire to climb on them at all!
Every movement of my head was accompanied by the blows of a blacksmith's hammer on my brain. It became a little easier, the drumming in my ears stopped, and my vision cleared…
The warm orange material in front of my face moved. Rhythmically, cyclically… Inhale, exhale…
And also very characteristic curves, going left, right, a hollow…
Adrenaline flooded my blood in a stream that even liquefied gas in a pipeline would envy.
Lifting my face, I saw the upper part of a chest… And, to my shame – transparent reddish streaks… With a movement of my hand, I touched my face – that's right, it's from me… I must have bitten my lip, and everything in my mouth was turned inside out… Well, it's good that my stomach is strong, and empty…
"Are you deaf?" this time the voice, though more melodious, remained demanding. Yeah, a problem, a real trouble…
Damn it, Trebal!
Looking up, I met two sapphire-green pulse pistol emitters. I don't even know if it's good or bad that they're eyes…
"I don't usually end up on women like this."
Once in my youth, a thought deeply impressed me: any problem with women can be saved by a sense of humor. I adopted this tactic… but due to my poor memory, I didn't consider one thing – the woman must have a sense of humor. For a man, it's constantly born ahead of him…
But a woman with a sense of humor is a luxury, not an incubator in a beautiful shell.
"I'm not interested in your wordplay," Trebal stated flatly.
One jab between the ribs and pain shot through my body. My fingers unclasped, and I fell from the chair and the girl onto the floor.
Damn it, how painful!
My body felt like it had been through a garlic press, and now this too!
"Do you have any shred of pity at all?" I groaned.
"I do, but not for you," to my surprise, Trebal rose easily from the chair. Stumbling, she took a couple of steps from the platform… And immediately swayed, falling face-first.
Acting more on instinct than consciousness, I jerked forward and… My physiology failed me – my muscles refused to obey.
Her blonde head, or rather the back of it, hit me right in the… And they told me: "Do good deeds, and you'll get nothing but evil!"
I didn't have the strength to scream in pain, only to cover the injured part of my torso with my hands and curl up in a fetal position.
The Ancient, getting on all fours, looked at me through a veil of her light-brown locks.
"I apologize, I didn't mean to," she mumbled. But her voice said it all!
"And why did you hit me with the back of your head a second time?!" I groaned. "She didn't mean to…"
"It's the inertia of two elastic bodies colliding," she said quickly, reaching the chair at the same time. "Physics, nothing more. But I apologize for my carelessness."
What a bitch! She broke the entire Lantian nest with her head! What does she have instead of bones? Ship armor?!
"Apologies…" I groaned, "accepted. Remind me not to hit you with the back of my head against the corridor again… You weren't exactly a sweetheart before, and now you're a bitch of bitches. Miss Bitch of Two Universes!"
"What?!" Trebal exclaimed, taken aback. "You hit me with my head against the wall?"
"What?" I stammered. "Those are sound distortions due to disruptions in the harmonic walls of the middle ear as a result of the overloads the body experienced."
The girl looked at me with a piercing gaze.
"That phenomenon doesn't exist."
"Tell that to the collision of elastic bodies – your head and…"
"I've already apologized. And, by the way, I saved your life!"
"That doesn't give you the right to take it from my descendants!" I groaned.
The state of calm reduced the pain… By the time I managed to stand up, Trebal was already standing in front of one of the consoles. Well, not exactly in front… I think only the good grip of her boot soles on the floor and her hands braced against the top edge of the console kept her from falling.
"No wraiths," she said. "No 'Aurora' either… The commander succeeded. As always."
Using the chair, I regained my vertical position and looked around.
Our comrades – Alvar, Teyla, a couple of Athosians, and two Ancients – lay along the wall where the only entrance and exit to and from the bridge was located. Judging by what I see, they're all breathing. No blood, no unnaturally twisted limbs either.
"They'll be fine," Trebal assured me. "The impact knocked them unconscious. It will pass."
"Tell that to a concussion or intracranial hematomas, broken bones…"
The young woman shook her head.
"… but you really pulled us out of a big mess," I finished my thought. "I think it's a somewhat equal exchange. Thank you."
The girl nodded silently in response, then activated a few switches on her console.
"Is Koschei in the cell?" I asked.
Trebal looked at me, surprised:
"The wraith told you his name?"
"No, I gave him that name myself."
"And he responds to it?" she was even more surprised.
"As you can see… So, what about him? Should we worry?"
Trebal, checking the data on one of the monitors, nodded affirmatively.
"His vital signs are registered in the locked section of the brig," she said. "Strange…"
"What exactly?"
"This system shouldn't differentiate between the vital signs of humans and wraiths," she explained and looked at me with interest. "Did you modify it? Install differentiation based on organism biorhythms? Brainwaves? Based on cellular structure?"
"We'll talk about it when we get back to Atlantis," I winced. I have no idea how this thing works. But something tells me I shouldn't mention Chaya Sar's name. Not yet, anyway. "We need to figure out what's wrong with our ship and crew."
"Yes, of course," the Ancient frowned, returning her attention to the control panel. "All biorhythms are stable, the ship is not registering brain injuries or life-threatening conditions."
Strange woman. She has hints of arrogance and contempt, a born bitch. But when she's busy, it seems like all that is just a facade, and the real Trebal is the epitome of compassion itself.
A contradictory woman.
"Ihaari, are you alright?!" she asked, using the ship's intercom.
I, meanwhile, went to the rest of our comrades, helping them regain consciousness. We need to think about what to do next… Extra people definitely wouldn't hurt.
"We're alive," the reply came over the intercom a couple of seconds later. Just as I brought Alvar back to consciousness.
"I haven't been thrown around like this since piloting a faulty interceptor," he admitted, realizing we were in relative safety.
"… but we have huge problems," Ihaari concluded.
It took some time to bring the crew around. Yes, the acceleration that the inertial dampeners couldn't handle certainly didn't do anyone any favors… But a dozen broken bones, concussions, and an ocean of bruises are a small price to pay for getting away from a supernova explosion.
Which, incidentally, we were discussing in the infirmary while the healthier ones tended to the less healthy.
"We're all going to die," Ihaari announced as he entered the compartment. He didn't even look at us, but went to the nearest console and started fiddling with it. "I warned you that bypassing protective protocols and ports wouldn't do us any good, but you didn't want to listen…!"
"Is he always such a pessimist?" I asked Trebal quietly. The Ancient twitched the corner of her mouth and shrugged, as if to say, I'm used to it.
The other Ancients also didn't react much to what was said. It seemed that a panicking engineer was really normal for the crew from Atlantis.
"So," Ihaari used the medical monitor and displayed a ship schematic on it. Oh, I don't like the red markings on the stern of the ship. "We survived the 'Aurora's' self-destruction, three wraith cruisers are destroyed… And that's where the good news ends."
"There were four ships," Kirik reminded, cradling his broken arm with an improvised bandage. Thanks to Ermen for the medical supplies! I don't even know how we would have managed without them. We'll also need to think about how to replenish our supplies.
"Yes, as I said, the good news has ended," Ihaari grimaced. "I enhanced the sensors during the restart and calibration," he changed the image on the monitor and showed a pulsating scarlet mark at a significant distance from us. A very characteristic mark. "If anyone's interested, that's the hive ship. It's heavily damaged, but there are signs of life on it. So the crew survived."
"If they haven't attacked yet, they can't," Alvar noted, glancing irritably at the female technician wrapping his head with bandages.
"Most likely their sensors and part of the hull were damaged by the explosion's radiation," Ihaari suggested.
"So that's good, isn't it?" Teyla asked.
"Wraith technology has a biological basis," Trebal interjected. "Unlike our ships, they won't need spare parts to repair most of their damage. They will reconfigure energy flows, direct it to repair the damage. An hour, a day, two, or a week – but they will restore their ship to a state where they can attack and destroy us. I believe," she looked at Ihaari, "that our ship's damage is worse than theirs?"
"I'm not an Ascended!" the chief engineer declared. "I can't even imagine what state their ship is in!"
"What about the long-range sensors?" I asked. "Can we aim them at the wraith ship and get details…"
"And then they'll know exactly where we are," he said. "For now, there's a chance their sensors burned out and are being repaired. But to risk it when we can't retaliate or escape…"
"We have ammunition," Alvar reminded. "Let's strike them before they strike us?"
I glanced at the somber Trebal.
It seemed her emotions were under control, but at the same time, this conversation touched upon very slippery circumstances. Which, I have no doubt, she accepted and understood.
"The dreadnought is unfit for combat," Ihaari grimaced. "It's second-generation, slightly better than the 'Aurora,' but worse than the latest versions. Your generators are only outputting seventy percent power. That's not enough to power the shields even at the lowest setting. And without the MNT, it's not even worth thinking about full system operation. The builders didn't just…"
"Enough theory," I asked. "Let's get to specifics. What's broken and what can we fix."
"If we have spare parts – we'll fix anything," the chief engineer of the 'Aurora' shrugged.
"Ihaari," Trebel interjected.
"What?" he asked irritably. "I'm not an Ascended to fix everything with a wave of my hand! I warned you there would be consequences…"
"Yes, and it would be interesting to know about them," Kirik grumbled.
"Well, listen," Ihaari said, still agitated. "I don't know who the genius was who reprogrammed the 'Mutiny on the Ship' protocol to counter the wraiths, but he's a bit of a genius and definitely an idiot! Because the ship sent a subspace signal to Atlantis, that's how they found us."
"So, it wasn't Koschei who sent the signal?" Teyla asked, surprised.
"Of course not," Iharr stated confidently. "The ship's computer did it. And it kept transmitting until Mikhail restarted the systems. The 'Mutiny on the Ship' protocol cancellation procedure kicked in, and 'Hippaphoralkus' thought order was restored on the starship and stopped calling for help."
"Could the Wraiths have learned that Atlantis survived?" Kirik worried.
"Don't they know?" Trebal asked. "If they haven't seen anything destroyed and what's happening contradicts their idea of logic, they don't jump to conclusions. I think they concluded that the Ancients either fled or died in the city during the blockade."
"And now they have confirmation that this is not the case," I concluded. "The Hive Ship must be destroyed."
"Well, then the second one too," Iharr chuckled.
"A second Hive Ship?" I, Trebal, Alvar, Kirik, and Tayla asked almost in unison.
"Well, yes," the engineer nodded. "Didn't I say? It'll be here in about two hours. And it's best we get out of here."
"Do we have enough ordnance to destroy both Hive Ships?" I asked Trebal.
"One, for sure," she said after thinking. "But two... We probably have enough ordnance, but we won't stand a chance against a fully operational Hive Ship. We simply won't have enough shield power to survive such a battle."
"We don't even have any power!" Iharr said. "No engines – neither sublight nor maneuvering, the hyperdrive is in emergency mode and locked, the pulse cannons are without power."
"Can we fix it?" I asked.
"If you have a ship stuffed with spare parts and at least ten to fifteen percent charged MNT, then no problem, it'll be like new," Iharr threw out. "But first, we need to thaw out all the crew members so the work doesn't take months."
"Let's be realistic," I suggested. "We need to restore the hyperdrive at least. It's preferable to retreat and regroup now."
"That's illogical," Trebal objected. "If we want to keep secret the fact that Atlantis has a functioning Ancient ship, then we should destroy at least this Hive. Before the second one arrives."
"Will we have time to restore the necessary systems before the second ship arrives?" I asked Iharr.
"Theoretically," he hesitated.
"Iharr!" Trebal's eyes flashed.
"How should I know?!" he exploded. "I don't have that many people to help with repairs. I lost two senior technicians and ten people in the stasis pod when the Hive Ship hit us! There are practically no spare parts, which means I can't fix critical damage, only bypass it – and even then, only if the backup circuits survived and the diagnostic readings only refer to blown fuses and so on..."
"In that case," I said, standing up and looking at everyone gathered. "We should start dealing with this as quickly as possible. Kirik – you're in charge of guarding the Wraith. Make sure he remains unconscious. I hope he can't communicate with his kind like that..."
I looked around, glancing at the Ancients.
"He can't, can he?"
"Most likely not," Trebal said for everyone. "Their brains are structured much like ours. The same centers are responsible for higher brain processes. So, as long as he's unconscious, he shouldn't have mental contact with them."
"Take a couple of people, knock him out with this," I handed the former fugitive my trophy. Trebal, giving me a look that clearly showed she hadn't forgiven me for her helplessness, remained silent. "After that, connect him to medication. Let him be in a coma until we return to Atlantis."
"It would be better if someone with medical education helped us," Kirik lamented. "I'm not very good at injecting metal into a sentient being and keeping him alive."
"Were there medics on board the 'Aurora' in stasis?" I asked Trebal.
"The medical section on ships of this type is located in the bow of the ship, next to the biological laboratories," she explained. "We lost it during the retreat. Along with our medics."
"Then don't deny yourself the pleasure of finding his veins by trial and error," I advised Kirik. "Take one or two Athosians with you just in case to keep an eye on him. If you see him even twitch – knock him out."
It's too early to kill him yet.
At least because he was mentally connected to the queen of another hive, and that's information. Besides, he clearly didn't revive everyone he could have. Waking him up now is foolish – he might contact his kind. But in the future...
As long as he's useful, he'll live. If not – he'll die.
"The scanner can help illuminate his anatomy," Trebal nodded to one of the technicians, and he pulled a familiar, massive palm-sized device from a pocket on his belt. "This man will scan the Wraith and..."
"Stop-stop-stop!" Iharr waved his hands. "I need all the people who can understand what needs to be repaired and how. Sending a technician to replace a medic..."
"He'll just show me where the Wraith's vein is, and then he'll go do what you tell him," Kirik explained.
"Ah," Iharr drawled. "Well, then that's acceptable."
"Alvar," I addressed the second fugitive. "Take one of the technicians and return to the bridge. Observe and coordinate the repair teams. Iharr, Tayla," the two exchanged glances. The latter with readiness to help, the former with bewilderment, as if to say, how did you even think of naming us in the same breath? "Divide your people into teams. Let them work from inside the starship under Iharr's direction."
"And how can they help?" Iharr asked. "Do they know how to change wiring? Won't they get confused about the polarity of the distributor? Will they be able to identify a blown crystal? What has your people achieved at all?" he looked at Tayla.
"Well..." she was somewhat taken aback by such audacity. "We tamed fire..."
A tense silence fell in the infirmary. The Ancients exchanged fleeting glances. But their carefully maintained poker faces tried to hide their true emotions.
"That's already worth a lot," Trebel assured, giving Iharr a meaningful look. He, shaking his head, sighed resignedly.
"These Athosians helped us put the battleship in order," I encouraged the senior engineer.
"Ah!" he drawled understandingly. "Then everything becomes clear. Though it's surprising... Well, ten thousand years... You must have had a hard time..."
"Excuse me?" Tayla asked with emphasis. It seemed she took this as an insult. However, it's hard to blame her – some of the senior engineer's words sounded exactly like that.
"In our time, the Athosians were one of the races that were supposed to become junior," Trebal explained. "You were well-developed and attracted the attention of the Lantians... If it weren't for the war, you would have reached the same level of development as us or other junior races..."
"I see," Tayla nodded. "I think my people will be very interested to learn our ancient history..."
"We'll talk about it when we get out of here," I cut short the waste of time. "I understand everything, but now is not the time. Iharr, send someone to inspect the damage to the 'Jumper' and start repairs. First and foremost, we need the hyperdrive and sublight engines..."
Because if we can't prepare for battle with even one damaged Hive Ship, it would be best to leave here. Yes, fleeing and leaving witnesses will lead them to our trail, but... It's better than losing more than we hoped to gain.
I bitterly thought that Chaiya was right – we should have prepared for this expedition as best as possible.
"Alright, let's get to work," Iharr clapped his hands. "Let's start assigning groups... Tayla, what exactly did your people do on the ship and what systems are they familiar with?"
Our crew, which had almost doubled in size, perked up, dividing into teams... If we're very lucky, we'll get out of this predicament.
A hand touched my shoulder.
Turning my head, I saw Trebal staring intently at me.
"Come on," she said quietly, nodding towards the infirmary exit. "We need to talk."
In how many cases out of a hundred does a big problem start after this phrase? Two hundred or more?