Teyla shuddered.
"Speaking of food, you mean what I thought?" she asked quietly.
"Exactly," I nodded. "This ship was transporting people for feeding tens of thousands of Wraith besieging Atlantis. Thousands and thousands of people..."
"Feeding on them, the Wraith could survive," Kirik said. "It would be stupid to attack such an object just the three of us. They could set up an ambush..."
I closed my eyes for a moment, activating certain "jumper" systems.
"And we're not going to climb inside," I explained the reason for the glowing lights rushing toward the crashed ship. "We'll knock on the front door and invite the Wraith for a talk."
At that very moment, four Ancient guided projectiles pierced the upper part of the crashed ship. Powerful explosions shook the entire structure to the foundation. And definitely woke everyone who was sleeping there.
"Seems you said this would be a sabotage operation, hunt," Kirik reminded. "And it implies covert following the prey."
"Exactly so," I agreed, making the "jumper" without active invisibility circle over the crashed Wraith ship. "But first we'll lure the prey out of its lair and send it on the trail."
I noted two interesting facts at once.
First— a red dot appeared on the "jumper's" virtual screen. Right in the remains of the crashed Wraith ship.
Second—Teyla fell silent and became more focused, as if sensing something invisible to us. Though I already know what it's about.
And yes, both facts I noted are connected. Direct cause-and-effect relationship, if you will. I think soon Teyla will enlighten us about her little secret.
Well, and if not, I have a backup plan on how to realize what I know about her and some representatives of her people without advertising my post-knowledge. Need to be more careful in such matters.
"Is that the Wraith?" the former runner clarified.
"He himself. The only survivor from the entire crew. And since we've awakened him, it's time to direct him where he's needed more."
"Hunt for the hunter?" Kirik became interested.
"Exactly," I smirked, continuing to circle over the old enemy starship.
*
Over the past years, he had awakened from hibernation more than once.
The Wraith commander of the transport starship, one of many ensuring feeding of his other brethren during the attack on Atlantis, broke free from the stasis pod's embrace. The barely functioning device supported his life for long centuries, millennia, the count of which he lost track of.
But never before had his awakening been associated with an attack on his ship's wreckage. Some time ago, he would even worry that such an incident could damage the cargo. But the thousands of feed storage chambers have long been empty.
As are the dead members of his crew—the commander fed on them and the transported human cattle throughout the long hibernation.
Surviving Wraith.
Through the damage in the hull damaged upon crash, he could see the reason he left the stasis pod. A Lantean small starship was patrolling over the wreckage, as if searching for something.
The Wraith bared his teeth, feeling his blood begin to boil from anticipation of the upcoming feeding. The commander, grabbing a combat-ready stunner pistol, rushed to the exit from the crashed ship.
Hiding under the overhanging ship outgrowth, he discerned that the Lantean starship headed toward a large dune half a kilometer from the crash site. Decided no one was here, so went for landing. Intend to inspect the starship?
Possibly.
However, two circumstances threw off track at once. First—the sensation of a weak mental response from a fellow Wraith. Too weak, possibly degenerated or dying. Second—only Lanteans or races assimilated by them could pilot Lantean ships. Like the Wraith, the Lanteans used a genetic lock for such complex technology, protecting it from use by other intelligences.
The presence of a very weak Wraith fueled his interest. When his ship fell, Atlantis was under siege. The Lanteans couldn't win that war in any way—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 other Wraith nearby, including in orbit. Meaning no hive ship or cruiser nearby. Nor other brethren. Then what is the ship and its intriguing passenger doing here?
For a moment, he thought the Lanteans somehow turned the tide of the war unknown to him and now the Wraith are a dying race. But he quickly threw this stupid thought out of his head.
With giant steps, more jumping over the sand than walking on it, the commander reached the dune crest and hid. An interesting picture opened to him.
Lantean shuttle with lowered ramp. Two chains of tracks going in different directions and disappearing beyond another dune. No sentries, no defensive structures. Why did the crew leave? Possibly the ship is damaged?
Looking closer, he saw three chains of tracks going to his right, turning toward his crashed ship. Went to scout the wreckage? Possibly. All the better.
Or perhaps an ambush is organized for him?! Possibly. He would have done the same. But he felt the weak Wraith moving away.
Needed to act.
But which of his guesses is correct, he didn't know. And guessing is pointless, needed to check everything personally.
Making sure he barely sensed the weak Wraith's presence within his mentality, the survivor rose and rushed to the ship. His stunner was ready to attack at the first hint of danger.
The survivor descended from the dune he favored in large leaps, inexorably approaching the Lantean starship. When he approached fifty steps distance, he felt someone's presence inside the starship. And it was definitely not a Wraith.
Human voice. Meaning needed to act quickly.
"Good you fixed the main systems," the man apparently talked to someone in the cockpit. "What energy surplus are we getting from your generator?"
He didn't hear the answer—the man spoke on a personal communication device.
"So this should suffice for installing shields, cloaking or protective field, and even connecting engines?" approval appeared in the young man's voice standing in the cargo compartment with his back to the open hatch of the Lantean ship. Seems he didn't expect to hear such from his invisible interlocutor. Unlikely it was about his ship—it wasn't restorable. Turns out something in orbit? Perhaps that very satellite that shot down his ship thousands of years ago? Interesting. Need to interrogate this milk-sop before drinking his life from him. "Excellent. That's really good news. As soon as we finish with the Wraith ship on the surface, we return and fly to Atlantis."
Atlantis! The Lantean city-ship! It survived?!
More questions than answers.
And the survivor already knew who would give him the needed information.
Running up, he pushed off the loose soil a dozen meters from the entry hatch. Soaring into the air, he intended to perform his signature move—attack the opponent from above, knock him off his feet and pin with full weight before drinking his life.
This would be the most delightful feeding in all years! He'd taste a Lantean again! This man inside the working ship from Atlantis simply couldn't be anyone else...
When the survivor already imagined the euphoria sensation from feeding, he felt the impact. As if at full speed crashed into an invisible wall with his whole body. Pain engulfed the torso, throwing him onto the sand.
For a moment, he saw a white-blue shield surrounding the Lantean ship before him.
Growling, the survivor lunged forward, jumping to his feet.
"Hi," with amusement in his voice said the same young dark-haired man. 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. Let it not strongly, but the charge would weaken it. These ships don't have such strong barriers, can be breached...
The weapon in the Lantean's hands spat fire and thunder.
At that very moment, the survivor's armor squealed, taking a metal charge to its surface. Inertia threw the Wraith on his back. Feeling pain in three or more places of his torso, he rose as quickly as last time.
"You can't kill me, pup!" he growled, moving out of the Lantean's line of fire. "I drank life from Ancients! I fed on thousands of people and hundreds of my crew members!"
"I know," the man exited the ship but still remained under shield protection. "That's why I'm here."
The weapon in the man's hands clearly had nothing to do with energy. Because it spewed pieces of metal that tore the survivor's flesh to pieces. But this wasn't the pain that could stop him from executing his plan.
He rushed sideways, circling the ship in an arc. His stunner fired at the shield at maximum rate, gradually draining it. Needed only fifty, maybe more charges for the protection to collapse and give him access to the ship's insides. Without protection, this pup could do nothing to him!
The man, as he supposed, followed him, continuing to shoot. But the surviving Wraith commander was too fast for the clumsy opponent. Bullets raised big sand fountains behind him but practically didn't harm. And how could they, with thousands of living beings' life in his body? And this power, though short-lived, still present in him.
Circling around the cockpit, the Wraith roared when another of his shots spread not on the shield but on the ship's hull. Through the viewport, he saw lights burning inside the Lantean small shuttle. And that means he could launch it without Lantean gene!
In one jump, the Wraith was on the ship's roof. Instead of circling around the other side, he proceeded along the roof.
A burst of ammo pierced his back, causing unimaginable pain to the survivor. The impact force tore his garments and rendered the back of the armored cuirass unusable. The Wraith tumbled onto the sand.
But he fell luckily—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 more than once, so his hand habitually lay on the aft hatch locking button. With the corner of his eye, he noticed huge bruises on his greenish skin—in these places he received wounds from the opponent's bullets.
But the damage grew over before his eyes.
Behind his back sounded the mechanism of ramp raising and hermetically sealing the small ship. Limping on the wounded and damaged upon fall leg, the survivor 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 at the moment the control panel went dark before his nose.
The same surviving Wraith.
Helpless rage passed with the cry of impotence. He looked once more at the dead control panel, after which he heard the entry hatch unlocking mechanism behind his back.
Rushing back to stun the opponent, he spread his arms to grab him and knock him off his feet. When they roll on the sand, it would cost the Wraith nothing to tear the Lantean's chest clothing and start feeding. First he'd restore strength, then learn everything he wants.
Before taking the rest of the man's life.
For the second time in the last five minutes, the survivor ran into a wall. His face smeared across the white-green glow surrounding the mockingly smiling man. A fist punch to the face threw the Wraith aside from the man.
"How?!" a bit slower than the first time, the survivor rose to his feet, looking at the intelligent with hatred.
"Magic exists, man," the man replied. His weapon was back in his hands and thundered before the survivor managed to move aside.
Bullets riddled the survivor's body, tearing chunks of flesh from it. Collapsing onto the sand, the Wraith realized not his torso suffered. The man shot at the legs and actually shattered both shins. What remained and slowly regenerated proved unable to hold the body upright.
"I'll get to you, human!" the Wraith assured him. "You can't kill me! My strength reserve is huge!"
"Possibly," the young man agreed, picking up the stunner pistol dropped from the survivor's hands. "But it's precisely for this reserve I decided to capture you, Koschei. Hope you don't mind such a name? You have something in common—pallor, immortality..."
Gathering all strength into a fist, the survivor rushed toward the man. But flew aside when the butt of the Lantean's firearm rifle smashed into his face. Rolling over, the Wraith named Koschei bared his teeth and rushed to run away.
Needed only to hide behind the dune to...
Before the survivor finished his thought, on the dune crest from which he observed the ship, two more people appeared. A man and a woman with the same small arms as the owner of the small Atlantis transport ship.
Trying to attack them, Koschei took several charges straight to the chest. His armor plates squealed, but pain spread throughout the body so he couldn't escape from here.
The light in the survivor's eyes went out.
***
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