In this galaxy, it's hard to find a planet that hasn't suffered from Wraith invasions throughout the centuries. As it happens, the descendants of insects and humans have visited almost every inhabited planet in the Pegasus Galaxy to taste the local inhabitants.
They came to this world too.
But instead of feasting on human flesh, they choked on their own blood.
And the vast number of Wraith ship wrecks orbiting the planet — a planet whose existence I knew about but which I dreaded coming to with every fiber of my soul — only confirmed this fact.
In the series, when the Earthlings flew here on a jumper through the stargate on the planet's orbit, they found the wreckage of one hive ship, according to them. Or maybe the translation was too clumsy, and I was too young to bother checking against the original.
Either way, the Earthlings discovered an orbital battlefield, which piqued their curiosity enough to go where they shouldn't have. All of this led to a chain of events I intended to avoid…
The jumper in the debris zone.
However, since I was already here, I might as well satisfy my curiosity. Especially since there was no danger — or at least I hoped there wasn't.
The jumper's onboard computer dutifully scanned the orbit while I stalled before a conversation that might never happen. But something told me a conversation would happen.
After the schematic images of a hive ship and a Wraith cruiser appeared on the virtual screen, I realized there was no point in stalling any further. Especially since I had absolutely no desire to add to the list of eight hives and thirty cruisers that had met their death in orbit around this planet.
Scenery that makes it clear exactly what should be done with Wraith ships.
Even though ten thousand years had passed, the vacuum had perfectly preserved the Wraith fleet wreckage. Large and small, parts of once-formidable starships still bore the marks of high-energy weapons that had literally torn them apart during the attack.
On a massive piece of a hive ship's stern drifting past, the site of a direct hit was visible. The stern had been burned clean through by an energy impact. Lengthwise.
Doubts about my search mission began creeping into my mind. Even though the scanners remained silent, indicating no traces of energy on the planet or nearby, my heart was uneasy.
I thought I wouldn't worry about this, but the wreckage… they sober you up. An unworthy thought throbbed in my subconscious — abandon my intentions and flee without a trace. Because even a paramecium would understand that a jumper, even flying with its cloak switched to an energy shield, wouldn't withstand a single hit from the weapon that had destroyed an entire Wraith armada.
An audible signal from the control panel gave me a clear hint that it was time to stop looking for excuses: an energy source had been detected on the planet.
And life signs.
Which hadn't been detected until now.
What else could this be but a hint to stop messing around and go negotiate? So I did.
The atmosphere of this planet wasn't overly polluted, but the percentage of dust in the air was high. It's best not to stay here long without a respirator. Out in the open, that is…
But one look at the planet's surface near the energy sources and life signal was enough to completely kill any desire to take a stroll across the continents of Dorandan.
The surface of Dorandan.
There are different types of cityscapes in developed civilizations… But the term that fits Dorandan comes straight from another space opera — "ecumenopolis."
As far as the eye could see and the jumper's sensors could reach, the planet's continents were one continuous urban sprawl. Not huge skyscrapers of stone and glass, of course, but tall enough buildings appeared among the vast number of ruins of ordinary structures. All shapes and sizes, varying numbers of floors, lengths, areas… The jumper flew over them, but the only thing all the buildings had in common was that they were all ruins.
Dorandan is a dead planet, with dead cities. The fact that mountains were visible in the distance, even with snow caps, that rivers, once contained by artificial stone banks, ran through the ruins, that gray-green strips of grass and trees grew between the destroyed buildings — none of this softened the picture of total desolation.
This world is dead.
And only one structure — the source of the signals — remained intact. It was to this one that I was most afraid to approach, seeing a massive multi-barreled turret stubbornly staring at the gray sky.
It formed the top of a huge complex that resembled a multi-level concrete pillbox, grown to truly colossal proportions. And, unfortunately, I knew what this complex was.
"Project Arcturus." Infamous for its prospects and the consequences of its launch by the Ancients.
The Project Arcturus complex.
As the jumper approached the only surviving building on the planet, it received docking telemetry guiding it to the complex's single hangar. And the fact that it existed pleased me.
If I remember correctly, the Earthlings entered the complex through some hatch in the roof. In my case, I could hope for a more comfortable entrance. Of course, provided the automatic landing system, pushing the jumper into the corner of the hangar, didn't intend to crush me.
However, this was the only good news in the whole situation. The moment the hangar bay door closed behind the stern, I was already standing before the descending ramp.
"You shouldn't have come!"
"Look at you, got a new dress!"
Our greetings merged into one. As did the reproach in each other's eyes. But Chaya's new dress — a simple, straight, white one with semi-transparent trim, reaching to mid-knee, along with her hairstyle, was worth noting.
Is big curly hair the fashion now?
Chaya Sar.
The girl looked at me for a couple of seconds, then averted her gaze.
"How did you find me?" she asked.
"You were looked for on Proculus, on Athos, on several other planets, but without success. It was logical to assume you'd locked yourself away on the planet where the tragedy happened, and where the Atlantis gate can't connect," I explained, watching the girl's facial expressions. "And then, I thought it was strange that Trebal couldn't connect to her homeworld's gate. She thought they were destroyed during the disaster, but… I know that's not the case."
"Did you tell them?" Chaya asked quietly.
"No," I replied. "I flew to Proculus first, and from there to Dorandan. Although, there were assumptions that you wouldn't leave any loopholes for the recognition bracelet wearers."
I wasn't worried that the Ancients, if something suddenly struck their minds, could track my travels. The last fifty dialed addresses of specific gates are saved in the dialing device. And I already know how to delete them from the jumper's dialing device — thank the mental control.
Chaya looked at the device she'd created for the safe passage to Atlantis.
"I used a ready-made variant of gate defense against unwanted visitors," she said.
"You wanted me to find you," a sign that she shouldn't think this game would pass. "It's impossible to reach Dorandan without a ship, and the gate is in space. No one else among the owners of these devices could have flown here to get you. And the question arises — why?"
"I wanted to talk alone," Chaya said almost inaudibly, still avoiding my gaze.
"And that's why you left your notes on my idea in the most visible place in my bedroom — to intrigue the fool."
"I don't think of you that way…"
"Well, I'm not the one who found them, Trebal did."
The Proculucian woman flinched.
"I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't think you'd get so close so quickly and…"
"She was looking for clothes for me while Seliz was bringing me out of a coma in the Atlantis infirmary," rumors and speculation needed to be nipped in the bud. "Curiosity isn't a vice, of course, but she'll answer for snooping through other people's things. But, maybe, instead of clichés, you could give me a tour of the facility?"
Chaya made an inviting gesture with her hand.
"As if you don't know what's what here," she said quietly.
"I know the general idea," I confirmed as we left the hangar bay and entered a web of numerous concrete corridors. Plain gray walls, several long-dead rectangular monitors embedded in them, staircases with railings… Not the slightest hint that the Ancients had ever ruled here. "But it's much more interesting to hear it from the leader of the whole failed project."
"Trebal told you everything," Chaya concluded.
"She shared her thoughts," I confirmed. "And it didn't take much effort to guess that you knew perfectly well who exactly made up the crew of the 'Aurora.' And why you left…"
I'm honestly starting to get sick of these cunning, provocative ladies.
Trebal, as well as most of the Aurora's crew, came from the planet Dorandan, where we were now. And they blamed Chaya for the planet's destruction.
The Proculucian woman, accordingly, understanding that by now few would bother to stand up for her and replace execution with exile to her home planet, did her utmost to slow our flight to the Aurora. She was afraid the truth would come out. And when she realized it was inevitable, she left.
You could say she chickened out… But if she had wanted to prevent me from reaching the Aurora by any means necessary, she would have simply secretly reactivated it. And not turned off its transmitter. The Wraith would have come, and it's highly unlikely I could have saved the battleship's crew.
So, it's worth remembering that, despite the description Trebal gave of Chaya, the latter wasn't such an "egotistical crazy bitch who would do anything for her plans."
"Is Seliza all right?" she asked.
"She's enjoying youth instead of adolescence," I shrugged. "Setting records in medicine. Assembling a conveyor and a bioreactor. In general, amusing herself as best she can."
"She's not angry?"
"Her? No. I'm furious that you turned a child into an adult, robbing her of her youth."
"I wouldn't have done it if she hadn't agreed," Chaya said. "Seliza really wanted to give Kirik back what the Wraith took…"
"You just used the girl," I interrupted. "So that after you left, someone with the Ancient gene would remain in the city. Were you afraid the systems would shut down after you left?"
"I decided to play it safe," Chaya said dryly, pointing me to the right corridor at one of the turns. "It would have been foolish to return the girl to the Athosians — information about her initiation would have spread faster than necessary. If," she looked at me, "it was even necessary at all. This way she had time to study the sections of the database she was interested in. She didn't even notice when I left — she was so impressed by the knowledge opened up before her."
"Okay, let's say that's true. But why didn't you decide to stay? Afraid I couldn't protect you? Or that I'd believe the stories of Trebal and other crew members who didn't see anything themselves, and only know from the Council's words that you are to blame for the death of their people?"
"Didn't you believe them?" Chaya asked.
"I listened to their version. And I would very much like to hear yours before drawing any conclusions."
"Good logic," the Proculucian woman said. "But… I have nothing to add, Mikhail. I am the most notorious mass murderer of people at the twilight of the Lantean civilization. The death of twenty-two million Dorandans was my doing. As were billions of other sentients across the galaxy…"
From her tone, Chaya Sar wasn't even thinking of joking.
"Tell me something I don't know…"
* * *
Little can make a seasoned warrior and leader of the Athosian people let down her guard.
But returning to her people and, especially, Charin's soup made from tattleroot — worthy of the highest praise, even those her people hadn't thought of yet — was one of those things.
Teyla and tattleroot soup.
"You've changed, Teyla," Charin said, unable to hide her smile as she watched Emmagan wield a wooden spoon, reducing the amount of soup in her bowl.
"I trimmed my hair a bit and put on clothes more suitable for missions, grandmother," the leader of the Athosian people replied. "But your soup was, is, and will remain the best food I've ever tasted in my life."
"Do they feed you so poorly in the City of the Ancestors?" Charin furrowed her gray brows. "I had a better opinion of the Ancestors!"
She wasn't Teyla's blood relative, but she had taken an invaluable part in raising the girl, who had lost all her family, for many, many long years. Even after young Emmagan grew up and became the leader of her people, she never forgot her grandmother, visiting her whenever possible."
"Their food is strange," Teyla, with obvious reluctance, set the soup bowl aside and looked at her grandmother. "Even if their machines cook from our vegetables and root crops, they do it without a soul. Every morning before breakfast, I try to find the words to ask Mikhail or Trebal to make you the cook on Atlantis. I'm afraid they'll live their whole lives never knowing that food can be something other than porridge…"
"You never liked porridge," Charin sighed, shaking her finger. "I don't think your friends need an old woman like me as a cook. Age takes its toll… My memory is still sharp, and I still remember how you drew pictures for me and sang old songs… But my hands aren't what they used to be, my dear. And trust my experience — cooking alone won't make you useful to such great beings as the Ancestors."
Charin.
"I hear fear in your words, Charin," Teyla grew worried. "Are the Athosians afraid of the people from Atlantis?"
"Afraid?" the old woman laughed softly. "Not at all. Impressed, amazed, stunned to see the Ancients in person — yes. To see living Ancients improving the fences on our fields so that not a single rodent can reach the root crops is priceless. As is riding in their flying machines while they transport sacks of harvest from the distant fields. This is new and unusual for us, Teyla. Just imagine — the whole village would have spent a week moving the early root crop harvest to the barns, but those two Ancestors on their machines transported everything in a couple of hours."
"Yes, their technology is amazing," Teyla said, embarrassed, remembering how much preparation it took to ask Trebal to help her people with the harvest. On the new planet, the soil was more fertile, and the star that chased away the night was hotter. The harvest was only planned for a month later. But the root crops, which Mikhail, after seeing the first tuber, for some reason called "potato" (or something like that), ripened much faster, catching all the Athosians off guard.
The Ancients, brought back to life, worked without complaint or rest on Atlantis, on the starship, at the Taranis outpost, and even in the old city on Athos, where, according to Ihaar, some old Ancient technology was located. A couple of the Ancients went to Ermen, studying the old mines. At least two Ancestors and a dozen Athosians worked on Lantea-II, gathering the resources needed for repairing the city and the ship…
There was an incredible amount of work.
What was even more surprising was that while Mikhail was in the infirmary, Trebal, who had taken unofficial command of the city, agreed to Teyla's request without unnecessary questions and allocated the required number of pilots and precious jumpers. Kirik and Alvar were happy to help her with the loading… And for a day and a half now, they'd been lying in their quarters on Atlantis, having thrown out their backs.
It seemed both of them wanted to show off in front of the Athosian girls, but didn't expect there to be so many bags.
"Somehow I doubt you parted from your new friends just to talk about them with me," Charin said with a kindly smile, sitting down at a table as old as she was. She covered the teapot she had brought with a thick cloth; from it came the appetizing smell of herbal tea — another favorite drink of the Athosians.
"You've always been perceptive," Teyla smiled, taking her adopted grandmother by the hand. Indeed — her visit wasn't a simple courtesy. She needed to learn more about her abilities — to confirm or refute what Mikhail had said. And only Charin could help her with that. The only Athosian woman who had lived so long among her people.
"I am the eldest of all the Athosians still alive," Charin replied to the girl's smile with her own. But in her version, it came out much sadder. "It would be unforgivable not to learn to see the real motives behind words. What troubles you, my girl?"
Teyla looked sadly at the remnants of the soup, realizing she needed to get to the matter she'd come for.
"Charin, do you know why I can sense the Wraith?" she asked quietly. The Athosians, in principle, didn't discuss their secrets loudly. Especially such sensitive ones.
The old woman, though saddened, didn't grope for words.
"In every generation, several such gifted children are born," she said what she had already told Teyla hundreds of times throughout her life. "A heavy burden… But it helped our people survive."
"I remember what you told me about my gift, Charin," Teyla hinted gently that she didn't want to hear the old story again. "I would like to know more about my gift… For instance, where it comes from."
The old woman looked away. Teyla sensed in her gut that Charin knew much more than she had told her all her life. But she couldn't force her grandmother to speak against her will.
"Some believe this gift was given to us by the Ancestors in the distant, distant years when they fought the Wraith," she repeated what the girl had already heard many times. It seemed Charin knew much more, but didn't want to say it.
"I know they didn't do it," Emmagan said softly but decisively, looking her grandmother in the eyes. "We've reviewed all the records from the Atlantis archives. If any of the Ancestors had done it, they would have reported it."
Unwillingly, she was consciously backing Charin into a verbal trap. Her heart was breaking from the pain of treating her beloved person this way. But the girl knew that if she asked directly, Charin would cling to legends and rumors until the very end.
It had already happened more than once.
"Perhaps one of them still didn't…"
"Charin," Teyla said, looking the old woman straight in the eyes, gripping her hand firmly but gently. "I know it was the Wraith who did this to our distant ancestors."
The grandmother flinched — barely perceptibly, but she did.
"I gave your father my word not to tell you this," she admitted.
"My father is no longer with us," Teyla shook her head. "But I'm certain he wouldn't have minded this secret being revealed. The Ancestors have returned to Atlantis. And they need allies to regain their former strength. What kind of allies will our people be if we possess a gift without understanding its nature?"
Charin nodded in agreement. She glanced toward the open flap of her tent, making sure no one was eavesdropping.
Then she dropped to a barely audible whisper.
"None of the Athosians know this," she warned.
"I'll keep your secret," Teyla promised.
"When I was little, my grandfather told stories that no one had ever heard," Charin said.
"About what exactly?" Teyla asked, intrigued.
"About those who managed to return," the old woman said.
"Return..." Teyla repeated. "Return after the Wraith harvest?"
"On one planet, the Wraith also came and took people," Charin said, visibly uncomfortable talking about it. "But some of those who were harvested... They returned after the Wraith took them."
"Why were they let go?"
"There were rumors that they had a gift that let them defeat the Wraith and carve a path to freedom. At first, they were seen as heroes, but soon everything changed."
"What caused that?"
"Some of them heard voices warning them about approaching Wraith. Others acted strangely, became cruel... Those who lived alongside them grew afraid. In the end, the inhabitants of that planet massacred them, but some managed to escape," Charin recounted. "My grandfather believed the survivors changed, began hiding their abilities, and that's how they saved their lives. Since that massacre, no one else has ever returned from the Wraith..."
"Except the Runners," Teyla reminded her. "You told me stories about them."
"From those who return after being in the Wraith's hands, people expect only trouble," Charin admitted bitterly. "Because the Wraith follow on their heels. But the returned ones... I think some of them were your ancestors."
"There are other Athosians who have a gift like mine," Teyla noted. "It seems our people have sheltered more than one returned person."
"That I don't know," Charin assured her. "But in all the time I've lived in this world, those who can sense the Wraith have never harmed the Athosians."
"I need to visit that planet where the first returned ones appeared," Teyla decided.
"That village has been gone for a long time," Charin said. "And those people ceased to exist many years ago..."
"I want to go there," Teyla said insistently. "I think the least I can do for my ancestors is to find out the truth."
"You shouldn't get tangled up in this, my girl," Charin pleaded. "That world is forgotten and cursed..."
"Still," Teyla was resolute. "I need this, Charin. Will you help me?"
The old woman looked at her, then smiled sadly and nodded in agreement.
"How can I refuse you?" she said with a sigh.