"Are you sure you're alright?" Tayla asked. Concern and attention were visible in the girl's gaze towards the passenger in the second row of seats of our "jumper."
Kirik was pale - and the whiteness of his face had not changed at all during the last fifteen hours of our flight. But, credit where credit is due, the former fugitive endured the pranks of his brain with honor.
"Yes," he croaked. "I've sailed on a ship in the ocean a few times. The sensations were about the same."
"You're seasick," Tayla explained. The girl looked at me:
"Mikhail, you said this wouldn't happen."
"Yes," I fought a yawn with all my might. "The ship is equipped with stabilization systems. Including an inertia dampener. Seasickness doesn't exist in principle."
"But that doesn't mean I can't imagine it," Kirik said.
"And yet, the first twenty hours of the mission were fine," Tayla mused.
"True," the fugitive agreed with her.
"Except the mission has already lasted twenty-five hours," this time I couldn't suppress the body's urges. "And we've only been flying for fifteen."
And the first ten hours... Well, as strange as it may sound, even in the Pegasus galaxy, for me, another reality, they passed quite habitually. I would even say familiarly. And no, I didn't live in Atlantis in my past life - not at all. Although, sometimes the utility workers couldn't cope with their work, and the area was periodically flooded.
No, something else, much more "interesting" happened here. You can be reborn in a new world. You can even appear in a universe that you knew and loved many years ago. You can admire that you ended up in a city that is the highest point of development of human knowledge. Yes, not the one you yourself belonged to in the past, but belong to now.
And you can also admire that even millions of years of evolution of different branches of humanity could not change the peculiarities of the female way of gathering for "long trips."
Recalling a famous book, I would like to rephrase: "We had two 'jumpers,' five people in them, one huge naquadah reactor capable of powering a spaceship or a city, two ship chests half-filled with weapons, and a whole sea of various devices, crystals, glassy wires, and superconducting toggle cables, as well as one restored military spacesuit of Ermen pilots, one miraculously preserved scientific spacesuit from there, a box of ammunition, and a supply of everything necessary for twelve days. Not that all of this was absolutely necessary for the trip, but if you're going to deal with the outskirts of the Lantian system, you have to approach the task seriously."
That's right. For ten hours, Chaiya, even though we knew in advance that we would go on this flight, was packing her "jumper." Although she assured me that she would do everything in five minutes, as she had already packed everything necessary on board the ship she had chosen.
And she had been preparing for the flight since the moment we concluded that we would have to fly after all, and the last satellite had to be examined at all costs. As for how to use it, that's another story.
"You should sleep," Tayla began the same song she had been singing for the last ten hours. On my "jumper," there were only she and Kirik among the passengers. Chaiya and Alvar were moving in the second ship, slightly ahead of us.
"I'm afraid if I go to lie down, our ship will go into uncontrolled drift," I explained the reason why, although not very well, I was still piloting the ship. And, I must say, I delivered it to its destination. "So, we continue to endure. Chaiya and Alvar are in no better situation than us. But I hope that after this trip, we will have a chance to replenish the Atlantis team."
"At the expense of prisoners?" Kirik clarified. "We'll lock them up like the other two in the cells, and send them to cryo-chambers during departure?"
"Stasis," Tayla corrected.
"But aren't they frozen there?" the former fugitive clarified.
"Well... Yes," Emagan admitted defeat in the battle against logic.
"So, a freezing chamber," Kirik shrugged.
On the outskirts of the Lantian system, we had two missions - one on the satellite and one on the planet. Accordingly, two groups were needed. Neither mission promised anything simple, so I decided it was best to fly on two "jumpers." Chaiya and Alvar were supposed to repair (or at least try to) the Ancients' satellite. She is our only engineer with experience working with the Ancients' systems. So, Sar was the only one who could make this mechanism work at all.
Alvar is not there for decoration either. Among what he and Kirik managed to capture in the last raid against the Jenai, there were several light spacesuits of local production.
On Ermen, they were used for short-term - no more than twelve hours - stays in space. Such spacesuits, or "scafs," as Alvar called them, were used by pilots of sub-orbital fighters, of which he was one. As well as scientists who studied space on a small space station in orbit. Unfortunately, neither the stations nor the cosmonauts remained after the Wraith invasion.
But the Jenai, in their greed, stumbled upon a warehouse with spacesuits and took them. As a result, we now have a dozen light spacesuits for military pilots and a similar number of scientific spacesuits. They didn't differ much among themselves, some were damaged, but they could be repaired or used for spare parts for others. In any case, it's better than not having them at all.
If only we could get at least one more or less intact Ermen sub-orbital fighter - that would be great. But what isn't, isn't. We'll have to make do with the numerous collected fragments stored in a separate warehouse-laboratory.
Why do we need fighters of another race? It's very, very simple: the Ancients in Pegasus didn't have them. Not at all. Only "jumpers," which served as both cargo and passenger small ships before the war with the Wraiths. And after that, they were retrofitted with a number of systems, including combat ones - a dozen homing missiles.
Yes, the "jumper" is technologically superior to the Wraith "arrow." But it's completely unsuitable for small aircraft combat. Its cloaking technology is deactivated immediately after the first drone shot, which means the advantage is lost at the very beginning of the battle. The number of ammunition is limited, while the "arrows" have none. The flight speed is lower than that of the "arrow," and the sensitivity of loss upon destruction of such a ship is higher for us than for the Wraiths.
Not to mention that only those with the Ancient gene can pilot "jumpers." Currently, it's only me and Chaiya.
They are long and very expensive to produce - colossal resources are needed, and there are no manufacturing plants at all. The Lantians generally had no concept of an industrial plant or anything like that. They simply created the parts they needed in the workshops we discovered on Atlantis and assembled what they needed from them.
Meanwhile, the Wraiths simply grew the technologies they needed in a relatively short period of time.
Since the Earthlings and their technologies did not reach Pegasus, then Earth ships equipped with Earth versions of space fighters will not appear here either. Consequently, if we ever encounter Wraith ships with our own Ancient spaceship, we will be in for a tough time.
According to the records in the Atlantis database, the military tactics of the Lantians were based solely on the use of drones. But we don't have that many of them either. And it takes energy to produce one such homing missile. Discharging the ZPM to create a full combat load for Atlantis would be very foolish.
On the black expanse of space, dotted with the lights of distant stars, the contours of a metal structure emerged. Like a pincushion, the "Satellite" is literally studded with numerous antennas of the most diverse shapes and designs.
However... Maybe I'm being picky, but... It looks rather uninspired compared to other Ancient technologies in the Pegasus galaxy. As if it (at least the external part) was assembled in a great hurry from what was at hand.
But on the other hand, what the hell does it matter how this combat satellite looks⁈ Its task is not to perform at Paris Fashion Week, but to blast pale, blond, metallist-wannabe Wraiths. The more, the better.
"What a behemoth!" Tayla exclaimed as the surface of the "Satellite" became clearer to the observers, glinting in the rays of the local star. "It's bigger than a Wraith ship!"
"Well, that's just your fear showing," I assured the Athosian according to the canons of an Earth anecdote about a girl and sizes. And even though I desperately wanted to sleep, the most fun was ahead of us. "It's big, but not that big."
"Is this it?" Kirik's voice expressed genuine admiration for what he saw through the "jumper's" porthole.
"It is," I confirmed, opening the communication channel. "Jumper-II, how are you doing? Ready to work?"
The second ship participating in this expedition overtook us and began to approach the massive structure that appeared ahead.
"As always, Misha, ready," Alvar responded.
"We'll be ready to dock in a couple of minutes," Chaiya echoed. It's strange. According to her, my genetics are more developed than hers. But at the same time, the girl's voice sounds much more cheerful. "We've already put on our spacesuits. There's no life support, gravity, or any power inside. As soon as we dock, I'll supply power from the 'jumper' to the docking node. We'll go inside, look around, connect the generator, start the internal systems, and begin to figure things out. If the damage seen by the reconnaissance drone is the only damage, then the repair won't take long. I think no longer than you'll be on the surface."
"And your voice doesn't suggest that the flight tired you out," I said with some envy.
"It didn't tire me out, of course," Chaiya replied in surprise. "I sent it on autopilot. We had time to rest. And you, didn't you?"
Cruel.
I felt two pairs of piercing eyes on me.
"Are we continuing to endure?" Kirik clarified.
"They're not in better condition than us?" Tayla asked in an innocent voice.
"And no one prevented you from sleeping," I reminded them. In fact, the guys had managed to get some sleep right after takeoff. I have an "uberwaffen" for hunting on the planet. And they, unfortunately, don't have a personal shield and energy weapons. "So, let's not have any complaints."
"Yes, what complaints could there be..." Kirik fell silent, watching as we drifted next to the behemoth "Satellite."
Chaiya's "jumper" had already flown up to the satellite's docking node, turned around, and backed into the specially designed airlock for such moments.
However, it is potentially more powerful than any Wraith starship. Both cruisers and hives, not to mention the rest.
"And can it destroy Wraith ships?" Kirik asked, not taking his eyes off the satellite.
"Uh-huh."
"But it's just hanging here, doing nothing."
Ancient Combat Satellite.
"The Wraiths damaged it during the battle for Atlantis. They destroyed the rest, as I understand it," our "jumper" froze in place, extinguishing its speed and starting to scan frequencies. "If we can restore the satellite, we will get quite capable defense against a possible Wraith attack."
"Do you think they'll finally realize that Atlantis isn't destroyed?" Kirik asked. "Ten thousand years have passed."
Slowly but surely, we were bringing our ally up to speed on the events that had occurred. Some of what was told confirmed the legends and fairy tales he knew, some he learned new things...
"The Wraiths knew that out of all the planets and cities inhabited by Lantians and their allies, only Atlantis survived," I explained. "There is still little evidence of our return, but it exists. Soon the Wraiths will stop messing around and figure out where to look for us. And it's better to have better defenses by then than a damaged city at the bottom of the ocean."
"But this didn't allow the Wraiths to reach Atlantis all this time," Kirik reminded me. "Why not use the same tactic? Or is it not justified?"
"We don't have enough resources and people to follow the same tactic as the Lantians," Chaiya's voice sounded in the cabin. "We are not planning to publicize the restoration of the satellite yet. We will only study it, repair it, and bring it into combat readiness. If I can connect the engines, shields, and stabilization system from the 'jumpers' to it, we can tow it from the periphery of the system to Lantea's orbit."
"But then, if the Wraiths come, it will be right under their noses," Kirik continued to ask questions.
"I intend to solve this problem with the cloaking generators from the 'jumpers' as well," Chaiya said. "So, we've connected to the docking node and opened the passage to the satellite's interior. It will take us about half an hour to sort everything out here and connect the generator."
"Okay," I replied. "We'll stay nearby just in case. As soon as your situation stabilizes, we'll get to our own business."
"Good," this was Alvar. "Chaiya has left the ship. She's now moving towards the damaged control panels, intending to replace some of the wiring so as not to do it after starting the generator."
As agreed earlier.
"I see her," I reported, noticing the tiny white silhouette smoothly gliding along the massive hull of the satellite. Attached by carabiners to her belt, a special bag with spare parts needed for external repairs dangled behind the girl. A tool bag dangled on the other side. A thin but strong tether also slid behind her, preventing her from flying too far from the "jumper" in case of an emergency. "I'm bringing the 'jumper' closer to provide backup for her."
In essence, if something happens to the girl now, our only hope is us. Without her, the "jumper-2" is now completely useless, and only the fact that she hasn't disabled its main systems allows Alvar to be there without major problems. Otherwise, he would have already begun to freeze slowly. But he won't be able to pilot the ship under any circumstances.
"She's reached the first damaged circuit," Chaiya reported. "Opening the panel."
A moment of silence.
"How bad is it?"
"The main distribution relay is destroyed, the primary power target is damaged," the girl determined. "The crystal matrices are broken or burned out, so the main power line is not working. I think that's why the satellite couldn't switch to the secondary and continue firing. The damage is from relatively small energy charges. I assume the satellite was damaged by fire from an 'arrow'."
"Can you restore it?" I asked.
"Yes," after a second's thought, the girl added. "But that's not the main thing. The main power source was destroyed by targeted fire. I think those were 'arrows' too."
"So, without the generator, we can't start it?" I asked.
"No," Chaiya said. "It's impractical to install a naquadah reactor externally instead of the standard one - all the power buses here are destroyed. I'll connect it from the inside, from the control room, by laying new main buses to the remnants of the existing ones. It will take some work."
"I could help," Alvar's voice sounded. "It would be easier to work together, after all."
"No need," Chaiya objected. "There isn't much space here even for one person. No convenience for maintenance and repair. And, therefore, it was assembled in a hurry. And, I think, they didn't rely much on servicing it."
"Will this be a problem for us when modernizing the satellite?" I asked.
"Yes," Chaya said after thinking. "We'll have to rebuild part of the external structures, lay some new power elements. I'm afraid we didn't even imagine what problems installing a cloaking device on this satellite would bring."
"We'll solve problems as they come," I said. "We won't distract you anymore."
"And for that, thank you," Chaya replied. "So, I'm starting the wiring repair. I'm cutting out the burnt main channel along its entire length from the fuses to the relay…"
"You want to cloak the satellite in orbit?" Kirik asked, a little quieter. "Make it invisible, like the 'jumper'?"
"Chaya says it's possible, considering the power of the new reactor and the parts she salvaged from the 'jumpers' that are beyond repair."
We had several of those. And even with the workshop, repairing them was too "expensive" in terms of energy costs and the resources needed to produce replacement parts for those that couldn't be fixed.
"There's no point in keeping it here, on the edge of the Lantian system," I explained. "When there were hundreds of 'Satellites' throughout the system, it made practical sense. But now, when it's just one and damaged… It'll be more expedient to tow it into orbit – that way, we won't waste thirty hours round trip to bring it spare parts."
Because flying from Atlantis, passing through the ocean depths, flying through the atmosphere, and reaching the calculated orbit where we intend to leave the satellite to protect the city, takes only about fifteen minutes. This means all the spare parts needed for further repair and modernization will be delivered much faster.
Which, consequently, will also affect the speed of satellite repair.
"Finished with the external repairs," Chaya had spent about eight hours in open space. Her suit's oxygen supply was two-thirds depleted. But that's not a big problem – now the girl will return to the cargo bay of 'jumper-2', seal it, restore the atmosphere, and start the suit refueling system she assembled "on the fly." By the time she docks her ship, she'll be done. "What's pleasing is that I didn't notice any breaches in the control room's seal. If there are no holes, we can restore the life support system in the control room."
"Sounds like a plan," I assessed. "You're doing great."
"I'm trying," the second 'jumper' headed for the docking port. "We won't refuel the suit now; it'll take longer than it takes me to connect the satellite's power from our reactor."
"Good," I approved. "Be careful."
"As always," the girl replied.
"And what if the Wraiths arrive before Chaya fixes it?" the former fugitive asked. "They'll see the satellite in orbit and destroy it."
"There is a danger," I admitted. "But I think Chaya and Alvar will be able to bring the satellite into combat readiness on this mission. And in orbit, it will be ready to take down a couple of Wraith ships. And I'm not placing any hopes on more than that, to be honest."
Essentially, the satellite is only needed to get rid of the enemy without resorting to projectiles or anything similar. It clearly won't save us from the entire Wraith fleet – it will lose in terms of numbers. It's just a way to contain the first wave. And the second, third, and subsequent waves will clearly come when the efforts of the first are unsuccessful. That's how the Wraiths are – when something doesn't work out for them, the plan goes awry, and they themselves lose, they send out a general call among their kind, saying, here are the enemies, they are interfering, we need to strike hard enough to make the whole universe tremble.
Considering that the Ancients and their technologies, including Atlantis, are what undermine the Wraiths' monopoly on ruling the galaxy, if they bite us, they won't let go until we die. Or escape, like the Lantians did ten thousand years ago. But somehow, the idea of evacuating to Earth doesn't seem like a good one – there are enough problems there.
"I think that, despite the difficulties, the satellite should remain here until its full repair and transformation," Kirik said decisively. "After all, the Wraiths won't see it here. And in orbit, it can be seen from any porthole against the planet's background."
"And here you've made a mistake," I yawned. "Wraith ships don't have portholes. They navigate by scanner readings. And if the satellite isn't in their path or nearby, isn't active, and isn't emitting energy, there's a good chance they'll just fly past."
"Do you always rely only on hope?" Kirik asked.
"That's how we stand," I sighed. "And on having access to big guns."
"I don't see a large arsenal," the former fugitive stated.
"It's a figure of speech," Tayla, more familiar with my communication style, suggested. "Mikhail means that after the Ancestors left, their technologies remained in the galaxy. Just like this satellite. If we're lucky, we'll find the weapons needed to protect Atlantis and its allies."
"And again – it would be better to have something more than just hope," the fugitive grumbled.
What I liked, and at the same time, what irritated me about Kirik, was that he didn't hesitate to ask questions that interested him. He says what he thinks. The guy is used to acting with certainty and thinking through the consequences of his actions. That's a useful skill.
But it also showed that, despite our cooperation agreement, he doesn't fully trust us. Due to his distrustful nature or fears that we might miscalculate somewhere, like the Ancients did in their time, he tried to learn our plans completely.
Unlike Tayla, who was satisfied with generalized answers to the rare questions she asked. But the Athosians, in principle, have almost religious adoration for the Ancients. And Chaya and I, no matter how you look at it, fit that definition.
Alvar also asked minimal questions – only those that directly concerned his work. A guy with a good understanding of subordination: subordinates don't ask questions of command.
And he considered me and Chaya as the latter. And we have something like a dual power structure. And sometimes, I was tormented by questions about why the Proculucian didn't just send everything to hell and declare herself the head of the city.
Without knowledge of the Ancients' technologies, without a position in their hierarchy, without any authoritative influence on the city, the fact that I give orders is, in principle, ephemeral in terms of my authority. But for some reason, Chaya doesn't put on airs (and her character shows that she can and loves to swim against the current) and doesn't hog all the blankets.
I have no direct answers, but I suspect the answer lies precisely in the fact that, according to Chaya, the genetics of my body, created by General Hypaphoralkus in this universe, surpasses her own. She says I have Lantian genetics, and hers is close to it, but still belongs to the lesser races.
I recall that in known events, there were cases where, in managing the city's key systems, for example, for flight, launching projectiles, and much more, the "strength" of genes played an important role. Whoever has stronger Ancient genes is the "boss." And the rest had to "struggle," while those with strong Ancient genes performed most operations with a yawn and picking their nose.
Figuratively speaking, of course.
I need to think about all this in more detail. Because if the city's main computer truly determines seniority among those present solely by gene strength, it's both a safeguard and a problem.
In the first case, there is a shaky confidence that the city will block access to its key systems if there is no Lantian like me inside Atlantis.
In the second… Well, what will happen if dozens or hundreds of Lantians, whom I've brought back to life, arrive at Atlantis? Will they take power from me and say, "Go play, boy. We'll handle it from here." A perfectly possible scenario, considering that something like this has already happened in events known to me.
And if you consider the fact that the Ascended don't like me much, it's not surprising to lose everything I've earned through hard work. Chaya cooperates with me partly because she has nowhere else to go – the Ancients who have transitioned to pure energy, i.e., the Ascended, also dislike her. Less than me, of course, but still…
It's curious that the thought "Will I lose everything I've earned through hard work when I bring back the remaining living Ancients in the galaxy?" only occurred to me now. Just one step before I started the "quest chain" to save and bring them back to life.
Maybe I should spit on them and not waste time saving them? After all, they are not my relatives and not even friends. Moreover, their comrades were planning to kill me…
Yes, a dilemma…
"Are you done there?" Chaya's voice rang out. "I understand that you're not interested in extra movements and disconnecting communication channels. But put yourself in my shoes – I'm falling from a height of fifteen meters…"
Not very often in her past life, the one before the Ascension, did she have to work in zero gravity. After all, she was one of the smartest representatives of the lesser races. Specialists worked in the laboratory.
And less qualified technicians did this kind of work. But there was no technical team at hand, so she had to do it all herself…
Transferring power from the 'jumper' to the docking bay was enough to make the armored doors swing open and grant access to the combat structure. Chaya had never visited 'Satellites' before and didn't know much about their design.
There wasn't much detailed information in the database, but she was prepared for what she saw. The narrow bottleneck of the docking bay smoothly transitioned into the widening throat of the main control room levels. There were simple ladders on the walls for movement – after all, the satellite's interior was small. Just enough to house a few technicians and equipment for launch and diagnostics.
'Satellites' were conceived as remotely controlled weapons, so the presence of even one sentient being on combat duty was not foreseen. And the control room was only needed for maintenance and repair.
*Entrance into the satellite. Scenes from the series.*
Ermen's scientific suit gleamed with the whiteness of its outer shell. And, credit where it's due to its creators, the flexible materials of the shell hardly restricted movement. So, mentally calculating the descent angle and other physical parameters, the girl pushed off from the docking compartment's throat and slowly floated towards the control room floor.
The shoulder-mounted flashlight flickered on, illuminating the pale blue color of the interior and the geometric patterns of the interior so loved by the Lantians.
The leisurely "fall" in zero gravity allowed her to examine the interior of the satellite in detail. A two-level control room, with the lower level being the main one, and the upper one, closer to the docking node, being auxiliary. Connected by the same ladders for ease of construction. Following the files found in Atlantis's database, the girl already understood on which level the control consoles she was interested in were located.
Extending her hands forward, the girl gently touched the floor of the main level with them, then activated the magnetic grips built into her gloves. A soft but irresistible force pulled her to the floor, preventing her from drifting away.
Pulling up her legs, she activated the magnetic grips on them as well.
*Scientific suit of the Ermen.*
Having restored a more familiar position, the girl sighed, thinking that it was not in vain that she had familiarized herself with the capabilities of this suit in advance. It, unlike the pilot's suit, had many useful functions. Such as magnetic grips or a super-powerful light source connected to the suit's main power unit. Or a protective coating of the ubiquitous polymer, covering all vulnerable parts of the suit.
"I'm on the main level," she informed her companions.
"Everything okay?" Mikhail asked. There was no alarm in his voice. It's understandable – the man knew that the satellite should be in relatively good order. They had discussed everything he knew about it before flying out. Although his memories were not specific for the most part, they still allowed the girl to determine in advance.
"Do you need help?" Alvar asked. The Ermen remained in the cargo bay of their 'jumper' to transfer the necessary equipment to the control room.
"In two minutes, you can lower the generator down the cable," Chaya said, unhooking the lanyard from her belt and securing it with a super-powerful magnet to the control room floor. "Done, awaiting the generator."
The massive structure of her invention appeared in the "throat" a few seconds later. Attached to the lanyard, the generator slid along it using a special device. It was generally used for faster movement along various types of ropes, but it was also suitable for the current situation.
At a distance of two meters from the top of the generator, three sealed bags moved on a similar device for descent and ascent – with tools, with spare parts, and with wiring of all kinds. You never know what you'll need in the next second.
The white-blue glow of the active naquadah core dispelled the darkness well, but while creating this equipment, Chaya was least concerned with using the generator as a light source.
Two minutes later, the base of the reactor, resembling tiles carved from gray stone combined into one structure, reached the control room floor. Chaya's fingers slid over one of the auxiliary panels. The magnetic system controls responded as expected.
Without the slightest sound, which couldn't propagate in a vacuum, the reactor base was pulled to the control room floor, firmly fixed in the center of the main level.
"Reactor is in place," Chaya reported, opening the panels hidden in the sides of the device. "I'm starting to connect the power source to the satellite's systems. Alvar, you can come down. I'll need your help now. We're ready to launch the whole system."
By the time the Ermen, clinging to the lanyard, reached the main level of the control room, Chaya had already found the external power outputs behind the decorative interior panels of the satellite and connected the cables to them, linking the 'Satellite' to the naquadah generator.
"Are you sure it won't explode?" Mikhail asked.
"Completely," Chaya replied, seeing that Alvar had magnetically attached himself to the floor. "First, I'll supply power to the internal auxiliary systems, then, after diagnostics, to the external ones."
"Okay. Just in case, we'll fly further away," Misha said.
"Reasonable," Chaya agreed, activating the energy transfer from the reactor to the 'Satellite's' systems.
At the same moment, dozens of monitors on both levels came alive, and crystals that seemed like simple decorations lit up. In reality, it turned out that these were one of the types of lighting devices used by the Ancients in their technology.
"Power is on, the satellite is receiving energy from the new generator," Chaya reported, looking at the laptop floating in zero gravity, as Mikhail called her portable computer. "The repaired circuits are working under load, the energy surge warning system is active, diagnostics indicate a number of malfunctions, but I can fix them from the inside."
"Are there chances to restore this thing?" Kirik's voice sounded. It seemed Mikhail was still using his ship's intercom on the general frequency. "Thousands of years have passed."
"Turning on life support," the girl activated several command sequences on the laptop. Inside the 'Satellite', the systems coming up to operating power began to hum. "So… The temperature will soon normalize, oxygen is supplied from the 'jumper's' side, but the independent system will soon start working…"
"And the weapons?" Mikhail asked.
Chaya scanned the data on the monitors. "It's designed to run on weak energy sources. It uses a special buffer to accumulate energy for firing… Oh!"
"And what does that mean?" Mikhail worried.
"The new energy source is much stronger than the previous one. Moreover, I think we'll be able to fire with short recharges for quite a while. Well, until we're shot down."
"Sounds optimistic," the man with Lantian genetics assessed. "So, can we leave you two alone?"
"Yes," Alfard replied, removing his suit helmet with Chaya's permission. "The air here… it's certainly thin, but it will get better soon. And it will be more comfortable to work, right?"
"Yes," Chaya nodded in response, moving towards the scanner next to the laptop, towards one of the panels. "Here's a burnt relay and fuses for the auxiliary system. I'm starting to replace them with equivalents. Oh, confirmation from the 'Satellite's' systems has arrived – the control room seal is intact. So we won't need suits at all – that's for sure."
"We'll be back in five hours," Mikhail informed. "It's time to hunt some Wraiths!"
"Now that's more like it," Kirik echoed him. "Are you absolutely sure you don't want to kill him?"
"Absolutely," Mikhail said firmly. "Chaya, Alvar, the atmosphere on this planet is highly ionized, so there will be communication problems. If we don't make contact in five hours, fly to Atlantis. Leave us – if the three of us can't handle it, then the two of you have no business there. Alvar, did you copy?"
"Heard loud and clear," the Ermen looked at the Proculucian. "Happy hunting."
"And good luck with your repairs," Mikhail replied. "Well, team⁈ How about hunting some Wraiths?"