It took quite a bit of sweating to get Kirik aboard the "Aurora." And "sweating" in the literal sense of the word. By the time the former Runner's feet touched the ship's deck, a fair amount of time had passed. And with it, precious oxygen was draining away, not to mention the energy in the spacesuit.
To reach the ship's backup command center, hidden deep within the starship's bowels and closer to the aft section, it took us almost an hour. We had to strain our already exhausted bodies to pry open every bulkhead on the ship and continue our journey. Right up to the next bulkhead. The only saving grace was that the starship was the final destination. And the ship's map allowed us to take the shortest and most intact route.
By the time we reached the "Aurora's" backup command post, we were literally collapsing from exhaustion. Because, damn it, the ship reacted with some sixth sense of its own to the fact that people had arrived on board. Living, real ones, and even with the ATA Gene. Well, why should they float in zero gravity, conserving their strength while moving around the ship? Let's turn on the gravity for them! At half of Fedor's! So that flying would be problematic and running not too fast.
Okay, that's just grumbling. The presence of at least some gravity allowed us to move through the corridors quickly enough. If only this magnificent and incredibly accommodating ship would start the life support systems on its own... But no, the "Aurora" knew the difference between helpfulness and bootlicking.
The BCP didn't differ much from what I'd seen in the series.
A room without viewports, displays and consoles built into the walls, several control panels in the center of the room... And a huge door, more like the wall of a bunker built to survive a nuclear bombardment.
Overall, it strongly resembled the room with the brig on Atlantis. Throw out the control terminals from here, put a brig with a prisoner in their place—and it would be a perfect match.
As soon as we crossed the threshold, the lighting instruments lit up, and the control panels and monitors slowly came to life. The ship began to awaken to life, reacting to the appearance of the right person in the right place at the right time.
"Will you figure it out?" asked Kirik when I removed one of the panels from the main console and connected my scanner to it.
"Just a minute," I requested.
The device came to life. The translation programs uploaded by Chaya were sent into the ship's depths. The onboard computer accepted them without the slightest problem.
And then the lights went out, and the panels shut off.
Bitch...
"If this is a joke, it's a failed one," Kirik approached me. "Did you break something?"
"I don't think so."
"Mikhail, our people are there!" Kirik pointed toward the deactivated "Hippaforalkus." "Their oxygen will run out soon and..."
"Yes, and ours too!" I exploded. "Except they have a whole ship full of air, while we have only a limited reserve! So, how about you keep your opinion to yourself while I'm trying to save our lives!"
As if in mockery or confirmation of my rightness, the backup bridge came to life again, glowing with the backlighting of instruments and monitor screens. Only this time, the inscriptions on the screens were translated into my native language.
Mentally thanking Chaya once more, I approached one of the consoles responsible for the ship's life support systems and... This console controlled a good hundred different systems. For example, bulkhead management in case of decompression. Temperature on board, oxygen and other gas content on board, lighting throughout the ship, armored shutters on viewports, temperature of liquids, including drinking water, hygiene... Oh, screw it!
What do I care about the composition of the aerosol used for cleaning crew bodies, or the liquid recirculation system? Yes, all in the best traditions of science fiction—the liquids coming out of the crew were recycled into what that same crew then drank. Or washed with... Honestly—I don't want to know about it.
Obeying my will, the armored door of the ship's backup command post closed, hermetically sealing us off and cutting us off from the rest of the ship. Kirik was already preparing to shoot (well, sure, ricochets are such a trifle, after all!), but seeing my signal that everything was fine, he relaxed.
"Let there be air," I pronounced, activating the "Aurora's" life support systems. For the first time in ten thousand years, it was possible to breathe with one's own lungs aboard the ship.
Thanks to the translator, finding the necessary systems wasn't a big problem. Much worse was that the ship showed me a schematic of itself. In terms of damage.
Yes, I assumed that only the internal sections had survived. And thank God, they were all connected to each other. The problem was that a third of the crew was in the damaged compartments. And getting them out would be, if not a big, then a very serious problem.
"Can we take off the suits?" asked Kirik cautiously.
Before answering him, I checked the information first with the ship's systems, then with the handheld scanner. The old onboard computer on the damaged battleship might err, but my device—never.
The "Aurora" was indeed adapting its compartments quite quickly to make it comfortable for humans inside.
"Yes," I clicked the clasp under my throat, depressurizing the spacesuit. Slightly lifting the helmet, I was ready to snap it back shut at any second if I heard the hiss of air escaping the spac... But no. The onboard computer had indeed pumped the necessary breathing mixture into the BCP. And it wasn't even cold at all—warmth was noticeably wafting from the ceiling. Well, yes, the Ancients, like the Americans, don't have batteries or anything like that. They have a ventilation system that circulates air and the right temperature through the compartments.
Anyway, what the hell difference does it make? It's not absolute zero here, not even Oymyakon. And not even those vaunted "minus two hundred seventy" that, as I recall, should be in vacuum. The ship spent ten thousand years in a state of minimal energy consumption, the life support system wasn't working... In vacuum, of course, there's no medium that would cool or heat in familiar terms, but... Damn it!
Only now did it hit me that I hadn't seen snow or an icy crust on any section of the ship. In theory, over such time, there should have been quite a few changes... But there aren't. Either another trick of the Ancients' systems, or I just don't know physics well enough. I can bet on the second.
Okay, that's not the most important thing right now.
And it's not even the question of how oxygen is generated on the ship if it was vented into open space after the crew went into stasis pods. Yes, that's right. The "Aurora" didn't pump oxygen out of the compartments into special reservoirs or anything like that. It simply opened the compartments from bow to stern and vented all the air. As well as all the liquids from its tanks.
An old good saying flashed through my head: "Vacuum is a perfect thermos." Looks like I just didn't delve enough into the secrets of space to authoritatively declare that some terrible sorcery is happening on board.
If you dig into your head, in the events I know, the Earthlings never found Ancient technology in the middle of space frozen over. I think it wasn't about saving on props.
You can also recall how the Earthlings arrived at an Ancient outpost buried under solidified magma. It was impossible to breathe inside, but as soon as all systems were started—it immediately replaced the suffocating gases with a breathable atmosphere. The technology of another, more advanced civilization in its best manifestation, so to speak.
"Cold," Kirik chattered his teeth, having gotten rid of his helmet.
"It takes time for the ship to restore comfortable conditions for humans," I explained, checking the readings. "It's minus five now. In a minute, it'll be twenty degrees throughout the ship."
Cool, however... I think on Earth they could gild someone for such a life support system. But only... And why the hell should I even think about Earth? Or measure by old criteria?
Well, suppose things are relatively okay on Earth. Suppose I even give them this stump of a warship. And... What next? Make me some kind of prince? King? Give me all the money on the planet?
It sounds "tasty," but... Why the hell do I need all that? I have, damn it, a spaceship (well, one and a half), a city-ship, and a completely different level of needs and criteria for usefulness.
Shaking my head, I threw out the empty thoughts.
At the same time, I freed myself from my spacesuit and set it aside. Might come in handy.
"We need to contact our ship," pronounced Kirik.
"As if I don't know," shaking my head, I approached another console, checking the readings that interested me. "The 'Hippaforalkus' is de-energized. Every system. Even if we wanted to—we can't contact them. The only way to help them is to get the transporter working."
Backup command post of "Aurora"-type battleships and similar.
"And what about the plan with the 'Jumpers' in the hangar?" asked Kirik.
"As before, it remains for the most extreme case," I replied. "The hermeticity of sections inside it is compromised. To get there, we'd have to open several doors whose control mechanisms are damaged. Immediately after that, decompression of the hangar and the entire 'Aurora' would begin. When we were getting here, we pried open quite a few good doors. And a couple of them," I pointed to the bulkheads flashing red, by which one could trace our path to the bridge, "we actually broke."
"A couple?" clarified Kirik.
"Well, a dozen," I sighed. "Due to the failure of the locking mechanisms in that compartment we entered through, we had to cut off several decks to prevent decompression."
"So that the escaping air doesn't shift the 'Aurora' from its place?"
"I doubt even the ship's ruins could be shifted that easily," I admitted. "But better not to study astrophysics by trial and error. We don't have that many spare parts to fix what's broken. So better not break anything else without need. And yes, we should value oxygen too."
"Can't the ship create an atmosphere in the required volumes on its own?" Kirik wondered. "Chaya said it's simple work for the ship's systems."
"With an intact power system—yes," I confirmed, continuing to read what's written on the screen. The ship's log is such an engaging thing. Especially if reading from end to beginning. Only out of thousands of entries, a few hundred interested me. "But the problem is precisely that the 'Aurora' is powered by the remnants of its ZPM's energy. The generators were damaged and not functioning. So, no time to enjoy the local landscapes and appreciate the classic Lantean interior."
Comparing the ship's plan with what I already had, I mapped out a path to the transporter cabin. I'd have to cross half the ship, as it's located in the central part. And by size, no bigger than that little room on Atlantis.
Interesting, and how many trips did the crew members make here? A hundred or two?
If I interpreted the crew count data correctly, there were five hundred on the "Aurora." As per staff. According to the used stasis pods— a little over three hundred. What happened to the rest—died in battle, during the journey, or the starship set out on a raid with an incomplete crew—remains a mystery.
Either way, three hundred twenty Ancients—that's three hundred twenty Ancients. No longer two and a half Antanians.
Spacesuits, of course, we left at the BCP. Dragging them with us would be stupid—the ship, at least those sections where we had to work, had full integrity. So, if no need to stroll into open space, everything's fine.
And now to the details I figured out while the ship was restoring the proper temperature in its compartments, atmosphere quality, humidity, and other life-essential settings for crew functionality.
The "Aurora," despite all its damage, isn't going to fall apart into pieces. Thanks to the builders.
The starship took damage while escaping the Wraith. They managed to complete their mission, jumped into hyperspace. But it turned out the ship's destruction was too great. So, to avoid dying from the deadly radiation emitted by the damaged hyperdrive, it was decided to send the ship on a sublight flight. The crew went into stasis pods, contacting Atlantis and requesting help.
But there's a nuance. The ship's course ran through an area where there aren't many Stargates nearby. The "Aurora" was directed so that it would arrive at the nearest planet with gates, where repairmen from Atlantis should meet it in a hundred years. And... Only shortly after, the Lanteans left the galaxy. And they didn't give a damn about their brethren.
To make your brains explode completely, it's enough to understand the fact that the signal that deactivated the ship's systems, except for the stasis pods, was sent from Atlantis. Meaning, they took care that the starship didn't fall into Wraith hands. And the ZPM on it, presumably. And that more than three hundred people ended up in a deadly trap...
Dig-freeze, I have no words to explain all this culturally even to myself. And, most importantly, without the desire to drag the Ascended by their energy genitals. They just plain abandoned their kin to die slowly! Exactly to die!
Because if there was any plan for a triumphant return to Atlantis, the Ancients clearly didn't implement it.
Damn your Masha! None of the Ascended even thought to save their comrades! They just put the big and fat rules of Ascension above everything!
And yet, what Chaya told, what I knew myself, to Ascend, you don't necessarily have to tear your veins yourself. From the higher planes of existence, they can just extend a "hand of friendship," provide "brotherly help," and all that. I'm sure that even nine, eight, or a couple-three thousand years ago, they could definitely have thawed them all and Ascended them.
No words, just emotions. Although... I need to stop being surprised by something like this. These are the Ancients, damn them... "Everyone has the right to choice, and we cannot interfere." Spit and grind on such philosophy.
I don't even want to think about it anymore. I need to distract my head with more tactically important information.
The ship is incapable of traveling between galaxies, as it has installed (as on the "Hippaforalkus," by the way) only an interstellar drive. But, I recall from the series, remodeling them is not a problem.
The starship has an arsenal for self-guiding projectiles—the Ancients' main weapon. Only the crew fired everything down to the last drone in their final battle with the Wraith.
There's really little energy in the ZPM—maybe half a percent or something close to it. In terms of ZPMs that Atlantis has, it's tears. In terms of the energy of the rest of the galaxy—this module would suffice to power a whole planet... for some time.
From the ship's log, it's clear that the starship received a secret mission from the Atlantis Council. The documents don't say what exactly they were tasked with, but I know that: to discover weaknesses in Wraith technologies. And in the series, it was said that this information could turn the tide of the entire war. Tasty, give me more.
Only the data is encrypted with the ship captain's code, and cracking such protection without Chaya or clever hacking programs is completely unrealistic. But, I think, if we revive the captain, we can negotiate. Not that I suddenly wanted to start exterminating the Wraith right now. But sooner or later, we'll definitely clash not for life, but to the death. And that will become a big problem. For us. The Wraith don't care if they all die except one. He'll rejoice that there are more people left for him to feed.
How, where, and how the crew gathered such valuable information is also unclear—no info in the ship's log. I don't think, of course, that they tracked the Wraith and dissected them somewhere in a local dungeon until they revealed their darkest secrets. I suspect that somewhere in the galaxy there's something like a secret lab or surveillance center that collected this information. And the "Aurora" was just a courier delivering it.
It's unclear only why the starship was sent for such secrets already when Atlantis was under the waters of Lantea's ocean. Why not earlier? Why the "Aurora" specifically? Weren't there more combat-capable ships? In the end, they could have dismantled the "Aurora" for parts and restored the "Hippaforalkus"! No need to break through the entire Wraith fleet blockading Lantea!
Looks like the Ancients never sought easy paths.
After all, it's so great—to create problems for yourself out of nowhere, and then heroically overcome them. And not overcome, shamefully fleeing to Earth and leaving a whole galaxy of people to the Wraith's mercy.
By the way, studying the ship's log gave me another indirect confirmation of what I already suspected: Atlantis is capable of accepting starships at its piers. For the "Aurora" took off from "Atlantis pier number two." I suspect it's one of the "big" piers; the other three don't inspire confidence, and they're quite densely built up. But the "big" ones in the central part have a cavity very much matching the ship's dimensions. Or very close to them.
Or my imagination is running wild.
What's important is something else.
This ship is not only a source of valuable specialists but also rich in the most valuable information. As long as it hasn't outdated by ten thousand years, or it'll be awkward.
"Look!" Kirik grabbed my hand, stopping in the middle of the corridor. I was so lost in thought that I didn't notice we'd almost arrived. "These are the stasis pods you were talking about?"
For a second, I was still lost in my thoughts, then followed his pointing direction.
"Exactly," my answer made Kirik snort and approach the structure protruding from the wall without much fear. "They allow preserving human bodies by slowing life processes to an absolute minimum."
Somewhat resembling a highly technological Alien egg, the stasis pod on the "Aurora" was a horizontal platform built into the wall. And there were dozens of rows of them—up to the corridor ceiling. And they're not small at all here. I don't know why the Ancients built corridors and compartments three-four meters high, but I think when you don't need to worry about saving space on ships by cramming useful mechanisms into every corner, you can afford comfort even on an exploration ship.
Stasis pods aboard the "Aurora."
According to the beginning of the ship's log, the "Aurora" was indeed an exploration starship. The flagship of its series. And its tasks, like those of its classmates, included exploring the darkest corners of the Pegasus galaxy. Where there are no Stargates.
The ship is very old—much more than ten thousand years. At the time of its construction, it was considered cutting-edge technology. And the stasis pods here are installed precisely so that great minds and the most valuable representatives of their race don't waste precious days, months, and years flying around the galaxy.
Yes... There's another problem here. The hyperdrive on the "Aurora" is much older than on the "Hippaforalkus." And trips from end to end of the dwarf Pegasus galaxy could take... In the best case, several months. And even then, only thanks to the ZPM.
My battleship flies faster and on generators alone—we reached the galaxy's outskirts where the "Aurora" was in a week. The "Aurora" needed months...
But even so, this ship's technologies far surpass even those of the most advanced civilizations in the galaxy. Including the Wraith. Probably, including the Wraith.
Meanwhile, Kirik approached the nearest pod and wiped a small layer of ice from the glass lid over the upper part of the body of the person resting inside with his sleeve.
"If this is such excellent technology," he looked at me, "then why do you need Wraith help?"
I also approached the pod, activating the scanner and running it over the freezing person inside. The scanner beeped, displaying data on the screen.
"Look closely," I advised, reading the inscriptions on the screen.
Kirik, frowning, looked through the pod's glass and recoiled, looking at me with wide eyes.
"It's an old man in there!"
"The technology is good, but imperfect," I explained, pointing to the elderly man lying in the stasis pod. "This guy was in the prime of life when he went into the pod. Now he's a decrepit old man who probably won't survive us pulling him out without reanimation in the form of reverse feeding by a Wraith."
"I don't think they'll be thrilled," Kirik shook his head. "After all... For them, the war was just yesterday, and here... Wake up and learn that ten thousand years have passed, your race is practically extinct, and you yourself were saved thanks to a Wraith..."
"It's not that simple," I said, running the scanner over the neighboring pods. "The Ancients are inventive guys. The people in these chambers aren't just sleeping—their minds are active."
"How is that possible?"
"Something like a dream," I tried to explain. I think if I tell the former Runner that the crew members' minds are united in a virtual reality where they're aboard a copy of the ship and living life... I think that explanation would need explaining too. And we don't have that much time. Let the ZPM reserves suffice with a vengeance, but... I have one cunning thought... But I can't pull it off alone; I'll need help.
I hope the crew members will provide it. Well, and if not... Screw them then, I'll shut down the pods if the bastards don't recognize me as their leader and swear eternal service. Conditionally speaking, of course. And that's about the oath, not that I'll shut down the pods.
I'm fed up with Chaya's demarches. If another three hundred twenty freeloaders looking at me like shit are added to her, better they die peacefully in their sleep. I'm not going to heroically rush to the Lantean flag just because these guys are who they are. I have no desire to gaze admiringly into their mouths and catch every spark of great (no) wisdom.
And in general, we don't have democracy here at all.
"And in sleep they... are awake?" Kirik reacted suspiciously to my words.
"The body sleeps, and the mind lives in an imaginary world, one for all," I explained as best I could. "They think they're still aboard the 'Aurora.'"
"And what do they do there?" asked the former Runner, looking around. "Watch us?"
"I hope not."
In the series, it was said that from their virtual reality, the crew couldn't influence the physical world in any way. Therefore... This doesn't rule out that the room may have surveillance means through which the crew can know about our presence and spy.
In the events I know, it was never established what exactly the crew perceived as reality. Before the Earthlings landed aboard, the Wraith arrived at the "Aurora," after which they connected to the virtual reality and made the crew "forget" that they went into the stasis chambers.
Thank God, that didn't happen to us—the "Aurora's" ship's log notes the appearance of starships of any types in close proximity to itself, as well as the landing aboard of living and non-living objects. We're the first to be here in so long.
Looks like Chaya was right here too: the Earthlings were unlucky not to make it to the party of life because they preliminarily woke up all the Wraith in the galaxy. That's why they only managed to chat briefly with the crew, learn that the Wraith who infiltrated the virtual reality deleted the secret message. And then the Earthlings went into oblivion, with the ship commander's consent, blowing up the "Aurora" and a couple of arriving Wraith ships.
An ideal story about how to shit without taking off your pants.
Honestly, both the Ancients themselves and their serial descendants... Oh, and I swore not to judge. I'm not without sin myself. Just an hour ago, I almost died in open space.
"Do you think a Wraith can really revive them all?" asked Kirik, surveying the chambers.
"A few he can definitely manage," I assured, orienting myself by the map. This conversation was starting to annoy me. "So, I suggest we split up. Do you have a radio and weapon on you?"
"Of course."
"So your task is to go around all accessible compartments—the doors to them will open as soon as you approach. If they don't open—means the compartment is damaged and there's nothing to do there."
"And what should I do on this patrol?" Kirik inquired, glancing at my energy pistol in the thigh holster.
"Check the pods," I ordered. "There should be a person in each. If there's anyone else besides them, or you find empty ones—let me know. And I'll restore the transporter for now."
"Who else could be on board besides these people?" Kirik tensed.
"No one, ideally. But anything can happen. Better to over-insure. Though, I think you don't need to inspect every pod—maximum the first and second rows from the floor. If someone wanted to connect to this system, they wouldn't climb into a chamber right up to the ceiling."
"Logical."
"That's what we stand on."