By the time the first officer approached Styx, the commander had already tossed aside the desiccated corpse of the food.
The skeleton covered in flabby skin crashed to the floor, dispersing some of the mist that blanketed it. The first officer calmly stepped over the human remains and stopped, waiting for the satiated commander to turn his attention to him.
The young man in the chair had been invited by the Wraiths to feed. But he didn't know that the main course for dinner was himself.
"Speak," Styx ordered.
"I have begun work on the data the scouts obtained from the dialing device on that planet," the first officer reported.
"When can you provide me with the addresses of the planets they might have gone to?" the Hive commander asked.
"The dialing device stored the last fifty dialed addresses," the subordinate reminded him. "Each address has seven symbols..."
"Six, if you remove the point of origin address," Styx said irritably. "From the six remaining symbols of an address, you can make seven hundred and twenty combinations."
"And there are fifty such addresses, commander," the first officer reminded him. "Which means we already have three thousand six hundred options."
"Discard the addresses that lead nowhere or cannot be dialed," Styx growled. "Separately highlight those that lead to the planets of other Wraiths. Wherever they went, that world is free of our people. There shouldn't be many such planets."
"Commander, I'm only trying to say that such work will take considerable time," the first officer backtracked.
"In that case, why are you wasting it standing before me making excuses?" asked Styx, noting the arrival of a pair of Wraith soldiers. Picking up the drained human, they dragged the remains away.
"I'll get to work immediately," the first officer assured him, taking a step back toward the exit.
"Wait," said Styx. "Did you figure out that bomb the humans tried to detonate on my ship?"
"It poses no danger," his subordinate assured him.
"I know that myself," Styx bared his teeth. "I want to know who built the second part of the device."
The creators of the detonating mechanism he had already erased from the face of the galaxy. Only one fugitive remained...
"We're working on that question, commander," the first officer assured him, retreating.
Styx bared his teeth again, seeing a new human brought into his chambers by soldiers. A cowardly, pathetic piece of meat...
"Come here," Styx ordered, intensifying the pressure on the feeble mind.
But the man didn't have the strength to come to the Wraith himself. Instead, the soldiers dragged him to the throne occupied by their commander and threw him at its foot.
"It seems your people have a custom of shaking hands as a greeting," pressing down on the remnants of the man's mind, the Wraith, whose age was barely short of eleven thousand years, completely destroyed his food's consciousness and turned him into an obedient puppet. "Give me your hand here, human..."
The broken toy, which had not even a hint of the Ancients' former greatness, obediently extended his right palm.
And Styx, following an old Wraith joke, returned the handshake, gripping the victim's corresponding limb with his right palm. The feeding organ plunged into the victim's limb, injecting enzyme...
Within a couple of seconds, he was hissing with pleasure, draining the remnants of life from the rapidly aging man.
* * *
Like any self-respecting city, Atlantis had a prison. Well, yes, why not have one in the capital of a race of people who had achieved enlightenment? A stupid question, of course.
But Teyla asked it anyway.
"You see," I said without looking away from the spectacle that filled the air with cries of pain and the sounds of meat being pounded with a hammer, "on the path to Ascension, to turning into pure energy," I explained for the girl, "there are many temptations. Available drugs, prostitutes, secret knowledge, moonshine, forbidden experiments, sodomy... All of this prevented the Ancients from achieving enlightenment. So the most unruly were shoved into cells of this sort."
Cells... Actually, it's a whole, fucking, compartment in the city, the size of a football field. And inside there are several (I lost count at ten) cells with thick walls — half a meter thick. Inside each such bunker, right in the middle, was a sizable cage with horizontal bars and a powerful force field stretched along the sides. This field doesn't allow matter through and deactivates (on the opening side) only when the cell is opened. Put a cot, a bench, and a laptop in there — it's like a motel room. Except the build quality was lacking. As if built in a hurry.
"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" Teyla asked.
"If you're also troubled by the question of which moron came up with calling a prison in a spaceship city of a space civilization a 'brig', after a prison on sailing ships, then yes," I replied. "In that case, we think alike."
The Brig of Atlantis.
"No, such thoughts don't occupy me," said Teyla.
"But they should," I said, watching the scene through the locked cell door. Inside, as always necessary for the balance of the universe, there were two people. And they had been there for a solid hour.
"Mikhail," the girl looked at me, frowning. "On Athos, it's not customary to treat prisoners like this."
"Great that we're not on Athos, isn't it," I gave her a meaningful look. "However," my hand pointed of its own accord at the people in the cell, "you can go in there. And tell both of them that you don't approve of beating prisoners. Even if they pulled out fingernails, broke three ribs, the radius and ulna, the right cheekbone, beat and nearly disfigured our mutual acquaintance. I'm sure everyone will be glad that you show mercy to the Genii."
"You forget about yourself," she said modestly. "It seems that you'd better..."
"Oh, if it weren't for the painkillers, I wouldn't be standing here," I had to assure the Athosian.
"I'm sorry," she lowered her gaze. "It's just... I can't wrap my head around it. I knew Tyrus and his daughter Sora as farmers. I knew all the Genii as peaceful farmers who are friendly and welcoming. They sometimes haggle hard, but at the same time they're always honest..."
"Remind me, how many times did they tell you about their bunker under the fields?" I asked.
"But they had no reason to trust me," Emmagan countered. "If the Athosians were as developed as they are, then perhaps..."
"Do you need me to remind you about Chaya again?" I asked. "Just in case, I'll remind you that half a day has passed, and even with the regenerating radiation of the Ancients' equipment, her second eye has barely started to open. There's an example of the Genii meeting a representative of an advanced race..."
"Perhaps it would have been better to build relations without mutilating Tyrus," Teyla looked at the cell where Alvar was currently breaking the Genii's last finger. On his foot. He had stopped beating him about five minutes ago, when Tyrus stopped moving. But a wonderful remedy from the supplies so carefully gathered by the enemy came into play. Time after time, adrenaline brought the Genii man back to consciousness. "Maybe we should have exchanged him and..."
"The only thing I can do for Tyrus is to give him a quick death," I cut in. "And believe me, I myself came over recently, but... What I managed to hear... Don't worry about them. Even if we drop a couple of nuclear superbombs on their planet, believe me, the innocent won't suffer."
"Misha," they called me from the cell. Alvar was covered head to toe in sweat and drops of someone else's blood. The soldier was breathing heavily, winded. As for Tyrus... Well, what was left of Tyrus was now lying in a pool of blood on the cell floor. With a soft hiss and flickering of the deactivating force barriers, the cell door opened and Jensen stepped out. "I gave him a small cocktail of drugs," the former runner threw the interrogation supply bag near the cell. "He'll last another day or so. If you need him..."
"Don't worry, I'll take care of him," I assured him. "Did you find out what you wanted?"
"I did," the soldier's face twisted in a spasm of disgust. "Even what I didn't want to."
"When you've cleaned yourself up, come to the conference room," I suggested. "I'd like to discuss..."
"There's nothing to discuss," the Ermen snapped. "Give me a weapon, a crate of ammo, and take me to their planet. I will avenge my people..."
Judging by the expression on his face, the former soldier wasn't joking. Not at all. Not even a hint. He really intended to go alone to the Genii and kill as many as he could. Judging by what I saw on Sudaria, he could actually do a lot. And I needed this Terminator in the guise of Vladimir Mashkov here, not with a bullet in his head surrounded by a couple thousand dead Genii.
"And you won't do it alone," I assured him. "At the very least, I'll be with you. But now we need to develop a strategy and understand how bad things are."
"It's very bad, Misha," Alvar angrily wiped the drying drops of blood from his face, but only turned his face into a terrible mask of a blood god. "They have nuclear weapons. And they intend to use them against the Wraiths. Even the fact that they shit their own pants during tests doesn't stop them. Soon the whole galaxy will be swarming with Wraiths! If it isn't already..."
Teyla grabbed Alvar's arm and drew his attention.
"You need to calm down," the Athosian said, looking into his eyes. "A hot head is a bad advisor."
The Ermen, even if he wanted to say something in response, restrained himself and remained silent. Throwing a glance toward the cell where Tyrus was beginning to stir, he left the room with a quick step.
"I'll talk to him," Teyla indicated her plans.
"Don't," I objected, approaching the cell door and closing it. "He needs to be alone with his thoughts. For now, let's unload the jumpers. I have a feeling we'll need them soon."
The electromagnetic locks clanged and energy barriers flared between the flat bars. The cell once again became an insurmountable obstacle for anyone who didn't know the deactivation code.
"You don't have to rush," Sora's father croaked, rolling onto his side and looking at me with blood-filled eyes. "Nothing will save you from the Genii's wrath."
"Yes, but you'll rot here," I cooled his ardor.
"I'm almost a dead man already," he laughed nervously, but immediately grabbed his bruised ribs. "I said what I know. You don't need me anymore."
"You're mistaken," I assured the Genii. "If you were a bit more educated, you'd know that a xenomorph isn't just tough chitin and excellent acid, but also a funny double jaw."
"I don't understand," the Genii said after thinking for a couple of seconds.
"That's the trouble with your people," I enlightened him. "The name of your race comes from the word 'genius'. But you, may only the Wraiths shake your hand, are not geniuses by any stretch."
Groaning some curse, the man, grunting, rolled onto his other side.
* * *
"We should have placed a more suitable spot under the warehouses," I said, collapsing into a chair in the conference room.
Six hours of dragging various loads from the jumper hangar to the part of the city's central buildings where we now have an arsenal, a storage for medications, ammunition, provisions, and equipment. And thank god there are teleporters, otherwise all this running up and down stairs and floors would be a total nightmare. However, Teyla didn't look tired. On the other hand, she was carrying things, not gunpowder and explosives. And it wouldn't be so bad if it were just my back... My legs are humming as if they've turned into high-voltage transmission lines. And they hum, hum, hum...
"It seems to me," Emmagan, although not on the first try, opened a tin can that looked like it was made of tin and easily lifted with a knife a piece of fruit dripping with syrup, "for this, you could work a little."
I inhaled through my nose... Yes, if the smell matches the taste, then forget my complaints! It's a pineapple! True, pink.
"Lenin bequeathed to share," I said, approaching the girl with an unambiguous hint.
"Who bequeathed?" she didn't understand.
"Girl Lenin."
"And to whom did he bequeath it?" Teyla continued to familiarize herself with Earth culture, sharing the can.
"To the Kulaks."
"And that is...?"
"Those who were supposed to share."
"I don't quite understand..."
"You're not the only one, don't worry about it," I advised, fishing a juicy slice out of the can. And yes, I was right — for such a reward, you could and should have worked hard.
There's something else Alvar omitted in his story about his race's wonder knives. Inside there's a camping spoon-fork. To choose the utensil, you just flip the construction to the right side. Not quite like on Earth, but even with three prongs, a fork is a fork. Even if it's a teaspoon, it's a spoon. In Atlantis, for example, we didn't find any utensils. And eating with the wooden ones that the Athosians gave us... After a couple of splinters in the tongue, it kind of killed the appetite.
With a soft hiss, the doors turned and Alvar entered the room with a quick step. One look at him was enough to understand — the guy had pulled himself together. And cleaned himself up.
Black pants from the camouflage set, a light T-shirt, a holster with a pistol strapped to his thigh. And an expression of universal weariness on his face.
And then behind him...
"Aren't you supposed to still be in the medbay?" I left the can and its contents to Teyla and found myself next to Chaya. Supporting the girl, I helped her sit in a chair near the entrance.
"Nothing critical for my health," said the Proculucian. Well, at least her voice was cheerful, already pleasing. "I was tortured, not killed..."
"From your appearance, one might think that only chance separated one from the other," Alvar threw, barely glancing at the girl.
"I'll take that as a compliment," she promised, folding her bruise-covered hands... My gaze caught on the barely regrown nail plates. Teyla flinched, I pretended I urgently needed to sit where I had been before, while Jensen looked at her with sympathy.
Chaya, pursing her lips, placed her hands together, hiding the torture marks from those present.
"We need to return to Ermen," she said.
"Are you joking?" I was taken aback. "We were almost killed there."
"But they didn't kill us," the girl countered. "We didn't complete our mission as planned. We need to go back."
"I don't think that's a good idea," Teyla sided with me.
"I agree with Chaya," Alvar unexpectedly said. "We need to go back. In light of what I've learned..."
He fell silent, throwing a quick glance at Chaya. The girl, also dressed in Ermen uniform, now differed little from the dark blue camouflage. At least the 'blooming' bruises under normal conditions usually appeared not after a day, but much later. I think it's a matter of the devices and the Proculucian's physiology — she recovered much faster than ordinary people. And that's not even mentioning — even my pain and bruises had stopped bothering me.
"Don't get me wrong," I said. "We need everything that might be useful. However, the Genii..."
"The Genii set my race up for the Wraiths' attack," Jensen interrupted me. "And now they're calmly digging through its legacy. I don't want them to get more than they already have."
"Did you interrogate the prisoners?" Chaya asked quietly. Teyla, unable to meet her gaze, looked away.
"Yes," Jensen took the floor. "Tyrus knows a little, but even what he said is enough to understand — the Genii are not our friends."
"Tell us," I asked.
"A few months before we were attacked, a group of refugees arrived on the planet," he began. "Among them were those two, Tyrus and Sora. I didn't see them personally, but I heard about survivors of a Wraith attack. I don't know how, but they wormed their way into the trust of one of the high-ranking officers. And somehow got data on our nuclear project. Reactors, bombs, missiles, engines... Much of it was only prototypes in principle, but the reactors had been functioning for about forty years. Tyrus claims they managed to bribe some of our military and they allowed them to take with them some blueprints and prototypes stored in the base warehouse. The Genii used them, as well as valuable ore from our planet, to improve their own inventions."
"What material are we talking about?" I asked.
"I don't know its name. I heard that the Ancients built the Stargates from this material," Jensen shrugged.
Chaya and I exchanged glances.
Alvar was talking about Naquadah. In the events I knew, it was mined on many planets in the Milky Way. I hadn't heard of it in Pegasus. But logically, it must be here somewhere, since Pegasus has a Stargate network in which this material is key.
From what I remember, Naquadah is ultra-heavy and ultra-dense. In the Milky Way, it was used to create power sources or to power weapons. Also as a weapon, Naquadah significantly amplifies energy, making it an extremely powerful explosive when combined with conventional explosives. In known events, Earthlings enhanced missiles with Naquadah to destroy enemy ships.
The physics of this material is quite interesting because, for example, the mineral also had a liquid form and was used in that form in weapons in the Milky Way by certain factions.
Possession of planets with Naquadah mines could lead to wars lasting generations and kill millions of sentient beings on both sides of the conflict.
But besides gates, there is other peaceful use of the material. Earthlings, having observed the technology from other aliens, created super-powerful reactors that produce tremendous energy output. In the known history, these reactors powered Atlantis after its restart when the Earth expedition arrived.
"If there are Naquadah mines on the planet, then we must," Chaya emphasized the last word, "find them. Get Naquadah — I'll be able to assemble several portable reactors. We can connect them as alternative power sources for various parts of the city."
"And a combat satellite," I hinted.
"First and foremost," she agreed.
"And you can also make bombs from Naquadah," I sighed. "And it seems the Genii now know about it."
"Perhaps they will use this material for a good cause?" Chaya suggested. "If we have energy problems, they must have even more..."
Jensen grinned wryly.
"No desire to hear the rest of the story?" he asked. "Well, the one where my race was exterminated because of the Genii."
"Sorry," Teyla raised her hands in a conciliatory gesture.
"If Tyrus wasn't lying, then partially from our prototypes, the Genii managed to finish and enhance the power of their bomb," Alvar reminded. "They sent a group to a planet with a Hive Ship and tried to blow it up. But it survived. After that, the Genii spies very quickly cleared out of our planet. Literally a couple of days or so before the attack on Ermen. And according to Tyrus, we were attacked by the same Hive that they had intended to blow up."
"That can't be a coincidence," said Emmagan.
"And it is not a coincidence," I said, glad that I could 'cash in' on my post-knowledge. "Among the Genii there was someone like a scientist. Before dying, he told me that many years ago they managed to shoot down a Wraith 'dart', found a data storage device there, and on it — data on the location of at least one Wraith Hive Ship. They wanted to board it and use that device to find the coordinates of all Wraith ships in the galaxy."
"To then blow them up?" Alvar clarified.
"Exactly. Suicide tactics."
"In that case, they must have a very large race," said Chaya. "In our time, the Wraiths had tens of thousands of starships — from transports to Hive Ships."
"In any case, something needs to be done about them," Jensen declared. "I won't forgive myself for knowing who destroyed my race and doing nothing about it."
"But we don't know the reasons why the Wraiths attacked you," Teyla reminded. "The Genii may have nothing to do with it."
"Oh really?" Jensen darkened. "They worm their way into our trust, steal our secrets, build a bomb out of them — something even we abandoned — send it to the Wraiths. And then, after that, they completely suddenly attack Ermen? Not the Genii's home world, but my world."
"There are gaps in your reasoning," Emmagan tried to calm her comrade. "We need to check everything."
"To me, it's all clear," Jensen objected categorically. "I don't know how, but it was the Genii who brought them to our world. They must have decided to take revenge for the past."
"Tyrus told me that Ermen was once part of the same Confederation as the Genii. Then you were attacked and they thought for a long time that no one was left of you. I suspect they checked this in practice, but found nothing, so they cleared off."
"I'm no expert on past history, but I do know a few ways to squash them," said Jensen. "We need to set up an ambush on the planet. Since one group has disappeared and hasn't made contact for almost a day, they'll surely send more. Then more, more, and more. We have about a hundred Athosians who can handle firearms. We can..."
"I don't want to involve my people in a war with the Genii!" Teyla raised her voice. "We've already suffered from the Wraiths without also bickering with each other! Yes, I'll tell my people to minimize contact with the Genii, but not go to war with them!"
"And why not?" asked Jensen, pointing at Chaya. "Show me the mine, I'll dig up so much Naquadah that it'll be enough to destroy an entire Genii planet. Or are we going to sit here and wait while they loot my planet and use our knowledge to first blow up Wraiths and then other humans? I'm sure the Genii could have assembled their own analogs of our prototypes, but they made sure their bomb had our parts! That's probably how the Wraiths found us."
"But why didn't they attack the Genii?" asked Teyla.
"They hide well," I reminded. "Underground city and all that, remember?"
"I can block Ermen's gate," Chaya said unexpectedly for everyone present.
"Excuse me?" I clarified, looking at the Proculucian. "Block?"
"We do the same with Atlantis's gate when we leave it," the Ancient reminded. "We'll block Ermen's gate from being dialed by any other sentients except us. I'll set up a redirect to other worlds, so no one will get through without our knowledge. The reconfigured dialing system will buffer the gate's energy and redirect it to random coordinates in the galaxy."
"And random isn't necessary," I suddenly said to myself. "We need prisoners for interrogation, don't we? We need to understand exactly what the Genii got from Ermen and how they use it."
"It's unlikely ordinary soldiers are aware of such things," Teyla suggested. "But commanders like Tyrus might..."
"In that case," I summed up, "we need to find a planet where we can redirect our unfriendly friends. Chaya," the girl looked at me with poorly concealed suspicion. "Your priority is recovery first. And no objections. We all care about you too much to just demand you work until you collapse."
"But I'm fine," the dark-skinned girl, covered all over with purple-violet bruises, was genuinely surprised. To be honest, her half-open, swollen eye made me shudder. It seemed like she was about to demand a motorcycle and clothes...
She looked around, seeking support from Teyla and Alvar. But they didn't utter a word of support for her separatist opinion to continue working in such a state.
"Don't make me out to be wounded!" the Proculucian protested. "I can work and rest! Especially since I need to go there and check the condition of the servers and..."
"We'll do it ourselves," said Alvar. "I think Teyla's people won't object to helping us with transporting everything necessary."
"Moreover, if the data on the other servers is as damaged as on the main one, you won't be able to do much on site," I supported the idea.
"This is a conspiracy!" the girl pouted.
"Go ahead and say it's betrayal, pull a lightsaber out of your sleeve and start cutting down Jedi Masters," I smiled. But, predictably, the joke wasn't understood. "In any case, the majority is in favor of you resting and recovering. The faster that happens, the faster you get back to work. And we, for now, will bring you everything you wish. Alvar, do you know where the biggest tech dump can be found?"