"Scavenger!" she pronounced the nickname by which he was known among other Wraith. "Indeed, who else could stoop so low as to attack my feeding grounds while my hive sleeps?"
The hive commander, whose name was Styx, bared his teeth, sharp as needles.
"Cunning Blade," he demonstrated his recognition of the opponent in the same tone as she. "Who else could make the livestock smuggle a bomb onto my hive during culling?"
Queen of the second hive. In the lore, she had no name (she was finished off before it was spoken), but Author gave her one, naming her Cunning Blade. And yes, Wraith queens in the lore really have unpretentious names. But more on that later.
With this hive queen, one needed to stay alert.
Like the few Wraith whose hives, essentially the same as his, remained without a queen, and thus without the ability to update their gene pool, sometimes used Runners to keep their fighters in shape. While most Wraith slept, such as Styx sought to stay competitive by regularly maintaining combat readiness.
They existed mostly thanks to such raids on others' feeding grounds while other hives slept. The fact that on this pathetic planet there were Wraith Worshippers who reported the attack to the second hive was news to him.
Wraith Worshippers are humans who, in their utter stupidity, decided they could be useful to some hive. They came to the Wraith themselves, offering worship and reverence in exchange for special favors they could be granted. Most Wraith saw humans as nothing more than animals that breed chaotically during their hibernation just so the Wraith would have someone to feed on. But there were hives like the one led by Cunning Blade. They allowed Worshippers to travel on their ships, performing various tasks among humans. They found new or rediscovered old feeding grounds, learned everything about planets that could pose a threat to the Wraith. Once they were useful—the first, maybe second thousand years after the destruction of the Lanteans. When their legacy was still in the hands of animals. When a raid on a planet could result in huge losses among the Wraith.
But now most humans in the galaxy are no more than a submissive herd that can only fear and beg for mercy. Personally, Styx saw nothing useful in using them.
Unlike a number of other hives. Mostly run by queens who entertained themselves by playing with tamed animals, seeing them as no more than domestic livestock. As soon as the Worshippers stopped being useful, they were consumed as food. But even then, they accepted their fate with delight and admiration. However, this brought almost no pleasure during feeding—after years of service and receiving favors and gifts from the Wraith, the Worshippers turned into spoiled livestock, smelling just like the Wraith themselves.
And feeding on Wraith... Personally, that was beneath Styx's dignity. But others went for it. Because of which significant changes were observed in the population. And not always did the gene pool change for the better.
Once Styx had a queen—the Queen of the Great Union, who fought the Lanteans and defeated them. However, an unsuccessful tactical decision, and he was left without her. For some time he could hold power in his hands, and then he was betrayed. Quite a standard event among the Wraith: if before the weak died at the hands of the stronger, now a large number of weaklings united to destroy strong rivals.
Only recently had there been relative calm. And even that only because most Wraith were in hibernation.
However, for some reason the Cunning Blade's hive, as well as the Wraith on board her cruisers, were not sleeping. Undoubtedly, someone on the planet reported the attack to them. And he voluntarily allowed himself to be collected, bringing a powerful explosive device on board to inflict significant damage on his ship.
It seemed Styx understood what this was done for.
Even if he couldn't ask about it now, he could send a mental command to his first officer. The one not involved in the conversation performed all the necessary operations and silently gave the answer.
Now it became clear why the enemy hive's strike hit directly the left side. That bomb was not a simple explosive device. It left a weak but distinguishable radiation trace, thanks to which Cunning Blade was able to detect
"You and your Wraith took what doesn't belong to you," she said. "This planet is my feeding ground!"
"I came here following a Runner," Styx said.
"And you culled the entire planet's population because they were in your way?" the queen rasped, demonstratively baring her teeth. "I should destroy your ship and let my fighters feed on yours."
Styx felt disgust.
He belonged to the first generation of Wraith, Cunning Blade to one of the subsequent ones. The Wraith lineage is as murky as it is convoluted. However, there was something that distinguished younger Wraith from older ones.
Those who fought the Lanteans perfectly understood what it meant to feed on one's own kind. Disgusting abomination. The human herd, these animals, exist precisely to satisfy the Wraith's feeding needs. The first generation of Wraith, as well as the second, would never allow themselves such a thing. But the current Wraith are not what they used to be. And almost no old and experienced ones remain.
At the moment, the current Wraith used the threat of feeding on their own kind as a grave insult, emphasizing that the opposing side was so weak that it was only fit for food.
"But I will take pity on you, scavenger," she said arrogantly. "You will give me half of all your "Darts," as well as the people you collected. After which you will leave my feeding grounds forever. Otherwise," her voice, as well as her facial expression, became threatening, "I will destroy you."
"You won't do that," Styx said confidently, checking the latest data on the tactical situation. Now everything fell into place.
"Why is that?" Cunning Blade asked, showing not a drop of surprise. "I have more ships and guns."
"You outnumber me in ships and firepower, yes," Styx agreed. "But at the same time, you've deployed no more than half of your "Darts." You didn't continue bombarding my ship to complete destruction. I see only one reason for this—the crew on your hive and your cruisers is minimal. All your other Wraith are in stasis. And mine are not. Therefore, you will let me leave here, taking my Wraith. And you won't get a single person, not a single "Dart"—I take them as compensation for the damage to my hive by your followers. But note—if you open fire on my ship, I will do everything to ensure you and your hive ship are destroyed. And then your Wraith will become prey for other hives, left without a queen. Personally, I'm fine with making a whole hive scavengers. Moreover, scavengers whose queen was killed by another scavenger."
It was the Lanteans, pointing out the peculiarities of the first Wraith, who did him the greatest service. They taught him and other first Wraith to use their weakness as strength. True, the Lanteans were wrong, thinking of them as weak. And that arrogance cost them their lives.
However, he did not intend to die today.
It was a dangerous bluff.
Cunning Blade got her name in full accordance with how she conducted her affairs. She could easily feign her own weakness to lure Styx into a deadly trap.
But there was something much stronger than Cunning Blade's desire to destroy the intruder.
His hive was one of the oldest, and therefore surpassed others in size. For that, one had to pay an exorbitant price, primarily suboptimal energy consumption. Therefore, he had to raid other Wraith's feeding grounds very often—to feed his crew. Even considering that it was not full, it was barely making ends meet. There weren't enough people for them to stock up properly on the ship.
And raiding feeding grounds with a large human population was extremely dangerous, as strong hives would undoubtedly retaliate for them. For this reason, he attacked small human settlements.
Wraith don't hibernate for nothing—they free themselves from the need to feed regularly. And at the same time give the human herd a chance to restore its numbers. Only when the human count is sufficient do the Wraith wake up. A few Wraith monitor this, occasionally visiting planets to keep the situation under control.
Using a whole fleet for such purposes is extremely wasteful. If Cunning Blade had all her Wraith awakened on all ships, it would force her to depopulate several planets with low population. Essentially, it would mean exterminating feeding grounds, as he did on this planet.
No queen would do that if the livestock on the feeding grounds did not pose a threat to her.
The local animals posed no real threat. Starting a war over such insignificant losses for her hive—impractical. But if she allowed it to happen, it would mean losing authority among her commanders.
Whether she opened fire or let him go—the situation suited Styx in either case.
Honestly, the second was even less preferable. For him.
Cunning Blade could decide to attack him to capture the old hive. It was a valuable and prestigious trophy. True, it required significant maintenance. But a large hive led by a queen could cope with that. To some extent. Killing the commander, she could subjugate his Wraith, further strengthening her hive.
But at the same time, if he was right, due to the lack of awakened Wraith, she couldn't board Styx's ship. At least not immediately. But he would have time and opportunity to reach her ship and land his fighters on the hive. Let many die, but he would kill her. Whether other commanders leading the cruisers remained with him or not, it wouldn't matter. He would become stronger in any case, even if he lost his old ship.
Letting him go without compensation, of course, would make her the object of attacks from her ambitious commanders. But it cost Cunning Blade nothing to kill them and appoint new ones in their place. And repeat this procedure until loyal commanders stood at the head of the cruisers. However, such a decision had its negative consequences.
Cunning Blade might be cunning in her schemes against Wraith of her generation, but with Styx, it was better not to tangle.
The queen, baring her teeth, demonstrated her contempt to him.
"Get out of here, scavenger," she said in a commanding tone. "Today I grant you life. But all Wraith in the galaxy will learn of your disrespectful attitude toward ancient laws."
In fact, she was declaring that she would do everything in her power so that other Wraith, upon awakening, would declare a hunt for him.
No news.
Such promises could be stacked, nothing new.
"The cruisers and "Darts" are leaving their positions," the first officer reported. "Begin return of our fighters?"
"Yes," Styx ordered. "Move beyond the range of their guns. Then jump to hyperspace."
"As you wish, commander."
"Has the Runner been caught?" Styx inquired of the second officer.
"No," he replied. "He managed to escape our trap. We lost ten hunting teams. This Runner is costing us too much."
"It would cost more if our Wraith became completely useless when the time comes to fight for our interests against other Wraith," Styx cut off. "This Runner is excellent entertainment for our soldiers and junior commanders."
"Probably the queen will take him for herself," the second officer suggested.
"She won't make it," the hive commander objected, watching as already sixty percent of the "Darts" returned on board. "I've studied him well. He took the opportunity. As soon as our fighters picked up the assault team, he headed to the gate
"No, commander," the first officer interjected. "Our scanners detect his transmitter on the planet. But the exact location is unknown."
"It doesn't matter anymore," Styx said. "Cunning Blade is not interested in "Runners." She won't interrogate him or seek to make him her Worshipper. If she starts hunting him, all the better—let him kill as many of her soldiers and commanders as possible. He's worth a good squad. Not like his killed kin."
"Now there are at least two of them," the second officer reported.
"What did you say?" Styx turned to his subordinate.
"The "Dart" pilots upon returning from the planet reported that part of the fighters were shot down by something like Lantean self-guided projectiles," the second officer explained. "Moreover, the transmitter was moving too fast, obviously on a ship. But scanners detected nothing."
"When was this data received?"
"Before the arrival of the second hive."
Styx growled gutturally.
"And you've been silent all this time?" Styx approached his subordinate. "Nothing in this galaxy could have evolved from the last hibernation to a level even remotely resembling Lantean. It was their small-range camouflaged ship!"
"That's impossible," the second officer said. "We defeated the Lanteans ten thousand years ago."
"Specifically, you didn't defeat anyone," Styx clarified. "We did. And we assumed they managed to hide somewhere. If so, we're in danger—who knows how far they've advanced now."
"We should report to other hives," the second officer perked up readily.
"No," Styx barked. "We'll figure it out ourselves. First officer!"
"Shall I send a reconnaissance team to the planet to take readings from the last fifty dialed numbers?" he clarified.
"Exactly. Wherever the Runner and the Lantean went, we'll follow. We'll find them," Styx bared his teeth predatorily, "and arrange a feast."
He had no intention of telling that, having gained access to Lantean technologies again, his hive would become essentially invincible, and the army—huge.
***
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