It took us two weeks to prepare for what seemed like a simple operation—an ambush on the Wraiths. Yet, in the series, people did everything on the fly, with minimal resources and preparation. And somehow, they didn't get into deep trouble.
Our experience shows that there is nothing better than thorough preparation for such a mission. It was this—mainly its technical part—that accounted for the long preparation time.
So, Plan A.
We find a planet with ground-based gates in the database, checking that it has no population. We don't want to mess with anyone, do we?
We conduct reconnaissance, find the old ruins of a small settlement abandoned many years ago. We install a prototype of our EMP generator in the ruins, assembled by senior engineer Ihaari from available materials and powered by nacahdah recently obtained by the Nomads on Ermen and enriched on Atlantis.
The prototype EMP generator of Atlantis, combined with a portable nacahdah generator.
We carefully camouflage the generator, test its operability in field conditions, and experimentally confirm its claimed "manufacturer's" operating radius.
We take the necessary safety measures. For example, we install a reprogrammed crystal in the dial-home device that prevents dialing the address from this side.
And we set up a dozen people as an ambush.
The Nomads may not be suitable for us as battleship crew members, but they dislike Wraiths no less than we do. And when Larinn was offered to "hunt the scum," she quickly found us tough guys who could follow orders.
There are a dozen of us on the surface. Four squads of three people. In the first—me, Larinn, and Teyla. In the second—Kaspar Fry as commander and two Nomads. Our task is to hold the front, where the Wraiths will inevitably rush. After all, it is in front of us that the transmitter, inactive until an hour ago and reacting to the Ancients, is located.
Logically, the enemy will rush towards us to figure out why Ancients have appeared on this lifeless planet.
The planet is not just dead—it is surrounded by an asteroid field. Moreover, it is dense enough that Wraith ships, even "Arrows," will not fly in and crash directly on our heads.
Ihaari, scanning from the "jumper" that is now hovering in the air behind the stargate, said that the planet previously had as many as five rather large moons. And all of them have now become part of the asteroid belt.
In case the Wraiths can still bring a ship here, we always have Plan B.
The third and fourth squads, stationed on the hills to the left and right of the clearing with the stargate, are commanded by Kirik and Saiya. Their task is to launch flanking attacks on the Wraith infantry.
And it is precisely on the infantry that the entire burden of the situation now lies.
The Wraiths realized almost immediately that they had fallen into a trap. But they didn't immediately realize that the incoming hyper-tunnel, which prevented them from leaving the planet for the next thirty-eight minutes, was opened not by their own kind. This is the advantage of having an Ancient scholar on your side—she will always find a way to devise a risky trap using the gates.
This time, Chaiya figured out how to send a subspace message to Proculus through the gate network. The message that the gates to this planet were open from the other side served as the trigger for the "jumper" crew on Proculus to dial this address and fix it for thirty-eight minutes.
The EMP field "turned off" all complex technology within a radius of half a kilometer around the generator. The Wraith "Arrows," whose flight sound abruptly ended with a shrill note, dived to the ground behind us.
Three ships crashed into the ground and exploded, illuminating the night with bright fiery flashes. Two other "Arrows," somehow managing to glide, made a hard landing on the edge of the forest behind our backs.
By this time, everything had already been set in motion.
Night is the ideal setting for an ambush when the gadgets you're used to don't work. And the Wraiths, realizing they were trapped, intended to use this advantage.
Except… We also chose the night time for the trap for a reason.
With loud bangs from the edges of the forest, surrounding the clearing with the village ruins on three sides, leaving smoky trails behind them, six projectiles soared upwards. Detonating with a dull explosion at an altitude of fifty meters, they illuminated the darkness with bright, snow-white lights.
Night turned into day, and the figures of fifty Wraiths, intending to hide in the forest far from the place where their technology had ceased to function, began to suspect something.
The events did not affect their determination to break free from the trap. They were not broken by the fallen "Arrows," nor by the clear visibility on the bare clearing of characteristic alien silhouettes in the light of six artificial suns, nor by the staccato roar of sniper rifles, whose large-caliber bullets literally tore off Wraith limbs.
Not even the automatic bursts that struck from three sides wavered the Wraith commanders, who continued to drive their soldiers forward, into cover. Or towards the enemy.
And in this situation, it seemed that the numerical advantage would play its role… If not for the Ermen analogs of the MON-50…
The roar of the explosions of three fallen "Arrows" momentarily deafened a trio of Nomads. But not one of them slowed down, crossing the sparse undergrowth towards the two surviving "Arrows."
The burning wreckage of the three Wraith aircraft provided an excellent view of the crash site. The organic goo, which according to the Lantians was the fuel for these machines, burned brighter than the oil torches used by the inhabitants of most planets.
And this made Kaspar's mission much easier: he didn't have to rely solely on the tactical flashlights of his assault rifles.
"Wraith!" Fry warned his soldiers, raising his 'Alash.'
The butt rested on his shoulder, protected by an Ermen field jumpsuit. His index finger habitually found its place on the trigger, which had become familiar…
The Wraith pilot, undoubtedly one of the commanders, easily distinguishable from soldiers by his leather cloak, loose hair, and the absence of ugly masks on his face, turned out to be quite agile.
He had already emerged from his fighter's cockpit, aiming a stun pistol at the approaching humans. But nothing happened.
In the light of the burning wreckage, it was clearly visible how surprise was reflected on the pilot's face that the glowing part of his weapon—the power unit—remained dark. Apparently, only now did he realize that the failure of the "Arrow's" equipment was not accidental and the problem was much deeper.
Bewilderment turned to rage on the Wraith's face when a beam from one of Fry's soldiers' flashlights hit his eyes. Snarling after the first burst tore through his lower torso, the Wraith lunged at the Nomads.
Two more bursts ripped through his torso, creating a bleeding wound as if something had exploded under his nose. Splattering everything around him with black blood, the pilot collapsed onto the grassy field, barely moving his arms.
"Control him," Kaspar ordered the soldier closest to the Wraith. The latter, without taking his eyes off the enemy, chose the safest position, scanning the surroundings. This Wraith is seriously wounded, but not dead. He will need a lot of strength and energy for recovery, which is unlikely to be fully possible without feeding on a human.
Such a Wraith would be suitable for capture.
"First one ready!" the second soldier began counting the kills, walking around the remains of the adjacent crashed and burning machine. A wounded pilot, with a missing piece of his neck, tried to climb out of its cockpit. Such a one wouldn't survive even until the end of the mission. And it's wrong to leave an enemy in the rear.
The second pilot of the landed "Arrow" could not get out—the impact was fatal for him. Although Wraiths can regenerate well, it is difficult to do so when the control lever of the "Arrow" has entered your face up to the middle.
Kaspar did not let things drift. A short burst ripped through the pilot's head, leaving him no chance of survival.
"Second!" Kaspar announced.
Another burst:
"Third!"
They were interested not only in the pilots of the surviving "Arrows" but in all pilots. A crash, even one like this, did not guarantee a Wraith's death. A broken dagger-shaped nose, a burning stern, a blazing cockpit—only maximum damage to vital body parts could guarantee a Wraith's death.
Kaspar circled the third crashed "Arrow" in a wide arc. The cockpit was empty.
"One is free!" he warned his soldiers.
It doesn't matter if the Wraith is wounded or healthy—he had to be found. And immediately. The trap was designed so that none of them would leave here.
Behind them, where the main battle was taking place, anti-personnel mines were already roaring, maiming other Wraiths.
Kaspar and his soldiers searched the wreckage, circling around them or simply looking around. Wraiths are not used to hiding, but they know when to swallow their pride and flee.
Or when to attack to get weapons and a suitable victim.
Fry noticed movement in the darkness near the nearest bushes but pretended not to notice. He continued to move forward slowly, exposing his back to attack.
Wraiths know perfectly well in what position humans are most vulnerable. And an attack from behind fits perfectly into their favorite tactic of victory at any cost.
Making minimal noise, moving on bent legs, crouching, the Wraith emerged from behind the bush, approaching.
They rely too much on their technology, while the Nomad scouts can notice more subtle details. For example, the moving shadow cast by the Wraith as it approaches you. It was foolish of him to leave burning wreckage behind.
The moment the pilot was ready to pounce, catching him in one leap, Kaspar rolled aside. Emerging from the roll, he fired a long burst into the Wraith's torso, stuffing its insides with metal. With a dry click, the assault rifle indicated that the magazine was empty. A good dozen large-caliber bullets, tumbling in the body and causing monstrous damage, were fired at the Wraith.
But it wasn't enough.
Roaring and raising his hand to feed, the pilot moved towards him with slow steps. The injuries were taking their toll.
But by the time the pilot took his first step, Kaspar already had a pistol in his hands. He fired just a few shots, aiming at the Wraith's chest, when two automatic bursts struck from the side.
The pilot's torso literally exploded in black spray. Shreds of clothing flew in all directions.
Groaning something with an exhale, the pilot fell like a felled tree.
Kaspar instantly changed the empty magazine with a loaded one with one hand, moving closer to the Wraith. He still held the pistol in his right hand, ready to use it if necessary.
Despite his insides being literally torn to shreds, he was still breathing.
And even trying to regenerate.
The wound on his neck was slowly closing. Too slowly for someone who could survive a journey to the gates.
"You will pay for your treachery," the Wraith rasped, a traditional threat of retribution. They always do this.
"Perhaps," Kaspar nodded, raising his pistol. "But you won't see it."
Seeing that the human was close enough, the Wraith reached for a small disc on his wrist. Pressing the single membrane button, the Wraith groaned with disappointment, not seeing colored lights appear in the center of the self-destruct device.
"It's disappointing when technology fails," Kaspar chuckled, squeezing the trigger. "I know."
A single shot echoed in the night at the crash site of the five "Arrows." The last Wraith went limp, frozen with a large hole between his eyes. The expanding bullet turned his brains into mush.
Kaspar stood for exactly two seconds, making sure that none of the wounds on the Wraith's body were healing. The only sure confirmation that the pale-faced bastard was dead was the absence of treatment for his injuries.
The soldiers returned to their first victim. The Wraith was breathing but unconscious. Minor wounds had healed, so he was under the sights of one of the soldiers.
"Tourniquets," Kaspar ordered, pulling a half-meter forest knife from his chest and approaching the Wraith.
Having done what was necessary, he moved on to another part of the plan.
Two strong blows with the blade—and the Wraith came to. He jerked forward, intending to plunge his hands into the body of the man leaning over him.
Except both hands were gone, having been severed and remaining as chopped pieces on the grass drenched in black blood.
"Your suffering will be agonizing, human!" the Wraith declared in a weakened, but no less threatening, voice, glancing at his mutilations.
"I doubt it," Kaspar said, using his pistol to make the barely alive Wraith stand up. "Hands are short."
Even before Kirik and Alvar began teaching her and her people the basics of killing Wraiths with firearms, Teyla already knew the most vulnerable spots of humanity's ancient enemies.
Head, chest, limbs. Wraiths are dangerous and tough opponents. The Athosians trained their hand-to-hand combat techniques from generation to generation, which would allow them to fight Wraiths face-to-face.
But the girl was willing to admit that doing it with an automatic weapon, and with the support of other means of killing, was much easier than fighting with knives or sticks.
Although through long but persistent training with former "fugitives," Emagan had mastered firearms confidently enough not to be a burden in battle for her comrades.
The Wraith soldier who rushed at her from behind a rock received two short bursts to the chest and head, after which he collapsed to the ground, never to rise again. It was at this moment that her weapon treacherously clicked, indicating that the magazine was empty.
The girl dived for cover, stepping over the dead Wraith. If there weren't so many of them, she could have sensed the approach of each one. But no matter how much mental training Chaiya conducted with her, Teyla's progress was negligible in what required her to actively use her gift.
Or curse, as many inhabitants of Pegasus considered it.
A dead Wraith could not harm her, but for a moment she imagined herself in his place. The hatred for Wraiths and everything connected with them is so strong in the galaxy that one day Atlantis will face those who will not care whether she was born this way or not.
And one day, she might be killed as easily as she had just done to the Wraith.
His comrade, who rushed out from behind the neighboring ruins, tried to hit Teyla on the head with a useless Wraith rifle in the suppression zone.
She hesitated and could have been harmed if Mikhail hadn't arrived in time. If anyone, then the leader of the Lantians had no problem mastering Ermen weapons as well as Alvar demonstrated. Misha said that he served in the army on Earth and there weapons had approximately the same design and completely identical operating principles.
Firing short bursts of three rounds, as Jensen advised, Mikhail ripped the Wraith's head apart, saving Teyla from the threat.
"Don't sleep!" Misha threw as he continued to shoot at the Wraiths.
Teyla, startled, peeked out from cover. While Mikhail was shooting another Wraith soldier, his commander tried to sneak up on him from behind. Teyla could not allow this.
Her burst went almost wide. One of the bullets grazed the Wraith commander, hitting him in the shoulder and forcing him to pay attention. Seeing that she was alone, he rushed at the Athosian, growling in pain from the large bullets hitting him. But he was determined to kill at least one person.
He did not succeed.
There was nowhere to hide in the illuminated clearing, but Larinn managed to do so. As soon as Teyla thought about getting away from the enraged Wraith, the Nomad was right beside her. Her assault rifle spat streams of fire and metal, ripping the Wraith's chest even more than Teyla's weapon had.
The Wraith did not die, however, and with a gurgle, fell to the clearing, barely showing signs of life. Larinn, reaching into her pocket, pulled out a small glass ball. Squeezing it in her hand, she made the object glow and threw it next to the severely wounded Wraith.
"Cover me!" she said to the Athosian.
Teyla did not consider it unnecessary to argue. Without being distracted from supporting Larinn with fire, Emagan glanced across the clearing, noting that there were at least two dozen similar balls lying next to the half-dead Wraiths. "They mark the wounded," Teyla realized, firing at the face of a Wraith soldier at the moment Larinn was reloading.
Strangely, there was not a word about this—about the markings—during the briefing. Teyla decided to remain silent now, to tell Mikhail about it when she was sure that none of the Nomads would find out about it.
This is why Kirik disliked firearms—because of their moving parts. Which can fail at the most unpredictable moment.
And that's what happened at this moment.
The assault rifle clicked, and in the light of the "chandeliers," the former "fugitive" saw a cartridge jammed in the chamber. And a rapidly approaching Wraith commander with a drawn blade. The opponent grinned with triumph at the upcoming fight. Seeing that Kirik did not attack him after killing the next soldier in front of him, the Wraith commander rushed forward.
The former fugitive re-gripped the weapon to use it for hand-to-hand combat, but it turned out to be unnecessary.
Not reaching him by half a meter, the Wraith stopped, his eyes bulging as a muffled, squelching sound echoed behind him. Kirik, without wasting time, ejected the cartridge from the chamber and shot the frozen Wraith in the knee.
He collapsed onto the grass, gasping for air. His hands trembled slightly, but the lower part of his body was immobile.
Kirik looked up at the figure standing over the fallen enemy.
Clad in field uniform, with a tactical vest and a picked-up weapon, Saiya, beautiful but deadly, terrifying with her glowing red eyes, shook her hand. Gripping her assault rifle with both hands, she continued to move quickly in a half-crouch towards the nearest squad of Wraith soldiers without saying a word. Stationed in the ruins, they were covering their commander.
Seeing a lone girl, four soldiers rushed at her.
Saiya shot the first one in the face mask. Turning the enemy's head into a bloody mass, she shifted sideways, crouched, avoiding a blow to the head with a stun rifle. Shooting the second soldier in the side, she broke his knee with a side kick, and then knocked him unconscious with a buttstroke to the back of the head.
She killed the third soldier with a point-blank burst. Her weapon had expended all its ammunition, suddenly falling silent. But the cyborg girl did not falter. Raising her leg, she kicked the Wraith soldier in the chest, knocking him into the fourth.
Both fell to the ground.
The Wraith commander who attacked her grabbed the cyborg by her uniform. Just as she was unfastening the empty magazine. Kirik was already preparing to shoot to cover his comrade.
Even though she is a cyborg, a Wraith is a Wraith.
He probably wanted to tear her jacket to latch onto her chest. But Saiya didn't need help.
With a blow from her polymer-protected elbow, Saiya forced the commander to recoil and release her. This was followed by a blow to the stomach with the butt of the assault rifle, a blow to the face, and a sweep. The Wraith commander, who fell onto his back, was literally hammered into the ground by the blows of the butt from the living weapon of the Salumai.
After the first three, the wraith, attempting to defend itself with its hands, went limp and lay on the grass.
With a muffled clang, the girl finished reloading and moved towards the other opponents.
Kirik, shaking his head, looked at the first wraith defeated by the cyborg. It lay there, with wide-open eyes, silently opening and closing its mouth. In the bright light of the illumination flares, a huge black puddle was visible, covering the grass beneath it.
As well as a piece of bloody spine that Saya had ripped from the back of the hard-to-kill enemy.
With a deafening roar, one of the Nomads shot off the arm of another wraith commander. The opponent, who had peeked out from cover fifteen meters from the former fugitive, could only lie on the grass, trying to stop the blood gushing from his shoulder with his left hand.
However, he was not going to live. And the sniper understood this, blowing off the wraith's head with a second shot.
Kirik surveyed the battlefield.
All the mines planted around the wraiths' initial path of movement had detonated—this could be seen from the quite clear number of small craters. Maimed wraiths crawled around. Without one leg, stuffed with damaging elements, without both legs, with broken skeletons... Never before in his life as a "fugitive" had Kirik seen the formidable and ruthless wraiths so helpless.
The roar of battle subsided, just as the brightness of the illumination flares decreased. Here and there, single shots or short bursts could still be heard as the humans finished off those wraiths that made no sense to try and save. One by one, more illumination flares were fired into the sky, and the maximum visibility increased again to comfortable conditions.
Twelve people, only one of whom was limping, having received a leg injury in a fight with a wraith, found themselves back in the center of the clearing. Just like an hour and a half ago, when they were discussing the operation plan.
Kirik winced when the communicator, whose existence he had already forgotten, came alive in his ear.
In Mikhail's hands, the scanner monitor of the Ancients flashed, and the Nomads' weapons began to emit characteristic sounds of readiness for battle.
The EMP generator ceased its operation.
"Not too bad," Mikhail declared. "One wounded, no one killed. Thirty wraiths are alive but crippled, twenty-five killed. I think this operation can be considered successful. Ikhaar, " he touched a key on his headset. "Do you see anyone outside the clearing? No. Excellent, so no one got away. Dial the Atlantis address and inform them that we have finished and suffered no losses."
An explosion, similar to the detonation of an Armenian mine, sounded at the edge of the clearing. Except Kirik knew for sure that a dying wraith, missing a piece of its spine, lay there.
"Alright, twenty-nine wraiths," Mikhail sighed. "Larrin, it seems some of the wraiths had self-destruct devices activated. Incapacitate those who are still alive, okay? We need prisoners of war."
The Nomad nodded her head, and all her kin, except for the injured guy, went to knock out the still-alive wraiths.
"That was dangerous," Larrin stated. "Fifty against a dozen!"
"If it weren't for the mines, grenades, and heavy caliber, we would have always had a plan B," Ikhaar shrugged.
"Retreating further from the EMP zone isn't a plan," Larrin remarked sarcastically.
"Completely agree," Mikhail sighed, touching his earpiece again. "Jumpers—deactivate cloaking and prepare for loading."
Kirik, smirking, looked around.
Six "jumpers" were approaching the clearing, having previously stayed outside the half-kilometer radius of the operation zone under cloaking shields.
Larrin smiled, shaking her head.
Half a dozen "jumpers," plus two self-guided missiles on each... The wraiths would have had a hard time.