"The platform isn't ready for use!" Chaya's hologram shook her head. "The consequences could be unpredictable!"
"A Wraith fleet is in orbit around Dorandan," the hologram of a tall, thin man with short, slightly wavy dark hair countered. "You're cut off from the Stargate, evacuation is impossible."
"If the experiment gets out of control, then..."
"Chaya," the Lantian cut her off. "This project is your chance to show the Council that your previous mistakes were an accident!"
"But..."
"No 'buts'!" the man snapped. "I've double-checked all your calculations, run them through the city computer — everything will work as it should!"
"But..."
"No 'buts'! I'm ordering you to activate the installation! If you don't obey, I will no longer protect you before the Council! Not you, nor your people! It's hard enough for me as it is every day explaining why we should keep an entire warship in orbit of Proculus! I'm being watched, Moros has established surveillance, several of my close associates are already passing him secret data from my research..."
"Close associates, or lovers, like I was?" Sar asked quietly. "Do they even know they're not your only ones?"
"That's none of your concern," the man cut her off. "Is that clear?"
A shadow crossed holographic Chaya's face.
"Yes," she replied. "I understand you, Janus. The weapon will be activated in one minute..."
At that, the holograms stopped playing, dissolving in the center of the horseshoe-shaped table where the Atlantis Council had gathered ten thousand years ago.
But today, those present were sentient beings whose only commonality with the rulers of the Lantian Confederacy was their relation to the human race.
Me, Chaya, Trebal, Ihaar, Alvar, Kirik, and Teyla.
People representing authority and significance among those currently inhabiting Atlantis.
And the expressions on their faces right now were quite... interesting.
Chaya stared straight ahead at an invisible point on the glowing tabletop. Teyla, embarrassed, tried to act like she was interested in something on her fingers; Kirik didn't know where to look; Alvar thoughtfully scratched the back of his head; Ihaar just sat there, bewildered...
Only Trebal looked at me with irritation and anger.
"Do you think this little performance changes anything?" she asked after a few seconds of general silence.
"Doesn't it?" I inquired. "You believed that Chaya was the one who condemned your world. Now there's proof that she didn't do it. At least, not of her own free will when she activated the installation."
"But she did activate it! And she could have understood what the consequences would be, since she was familiar with the technology!"
"And would you have refused in her place?" Alvar asked, pointing to where the holograms had just been. "I don't know who that guy is, but on Ermen, they'd be breaking his jaw several times an hour for that."
"Janus is one of the most prominent, if not the smartest, Lantian scientists," Trebal hissed through her teeth. "And it's not for you to judge him...!"
Janus, a Lantian.
"But I can," Trebal turned her head toward me.
"Because she's your...?" the Aurora's first officer snorted, glancing at Chaya. But she said nothing aloud. Though the implication was clear enough.
"An ally, just like you, Ihaar, and anyone in Atlantis who doesn't suck the life out of people," I said. "And for the record, I should point out that it's thanks to Chaya that the Hippaforalkus went after you. Thanks to her, the pods could be connected to the power system. Thanks to her, Atlantis is defended from invasion. Thanks to her, we have portable reactors and a restored defense satellite. Not to mention that she managed to convert the Jumper's cloaking shield system into an energy one..."
"The latter was already practiced during the war," Ihaar said barely audibly, but his remark went unacknowledged.
"And also, thanks to her, your people almost died when the power on the battleship went out," Trebal reminded. "And because of her, the Wraith came! If it weren't for the security protocol she rewrote, we wouldn't have had to sacrifice twenty excellent people! What's more, if the Wraith hadn't come, we would have had the chance to repair the ship, get it to Taranis, fix it, and obtain a second combat-ready starship!"
"In about ten years at that rate," Ihaar muttered.
"I'll repeat myself," I said, raising my voice slightly. "Chaya did no less for your salvation, and perhaps more, than the others involved."
"And how does that justify the murder of millions?" Trebal asked.
"It doesn't," I admitted. "But I would call it causing death through negligence. Besides, ten thousand years have passed..."
"But I remember it like it was yesterday!" the Dorandan woman snapped.
"In any case," I raised my voice, silencing Trebal. "It's not for you to decide, Trebal. The leader of everyone living on Atlantis is me. And I've made my decision — Chaya will not answer for what happened in the past."
"And why not?" Trebal glared at me angrily.
"Because in that case, all surviving Ancients would have to answer for the Wraith ever coming into existence," I said.
"Whatever do you mean?" Kirik perked up.
"Given the number of veils torn recently, I'm starting to think running from the Wraith my whole life wasn't that big a problem," Alvar said.
"Do you really want to discuss this now?" Trebal asked.
"Well, you want to blame her for following Janus's order," I shrugged. "So why not, since we're all here, start this tribunal from the very beginning? Chaya wouldn't have even needed to think about anything like nanites, the Attero device, or Project Arcturus, if the Ancients' efforts hadn't created the Wraith in the first place? It's logical."
"Can someone explain what this is about?" Teyla demanded.
"It's about the Ancients creating at least human life in this galaxy," I said. "In Atlantis's holographic room, there's a recording of Melia, one of the Council members, saying that at the start of colonization, they encountered a species that defeated them."
"They found the Wraith while they were hibernating, that's logical..." Kirik frowned.
Trebal and I stared each other down. Ihaar carefully avoided the glances the others were throwing at him... Chaya just hid her face in her hands. And for some reason, I felt that only the last two were feeling any shame.
"Can anyone explain anything?" Teyla asked.
"Easily," I agreed, activating the holographic console built into the tabletop. "The thing is, the Wraith appeared in the galaxy because of the Ancients."
"What?!" the Athosian woman and both former fugitives said in unison.
I found the necessary file in Atlantis's database and activated the holographic playback. A moment later, a small creature, about the length of an arm, hung in the air before us.
Covered in a blue chitinous carapace, with a long, forked tail, several sturdy claws and powerful mandibles, a pair of fleshy wings covered in keratinous material, and an orange-red abdomen, it inspired nothing but revulsion.
"Allow me to introduce," I offered. "The Iratus beetle. The genetic ancestor of the Wraith."
The Iratus beetle feeds on the hero of the series. Why? Because it's a beetle, it doesn't care about anything, it eats whoever it wants.
"You're saying the Wraith evolved from some kind of beetle?" Alvar wondered.
"Not exactly," I clarified. "The thing is, as far as I know, after populating the galaxy, the Ancients scattered humans across the habitable planets. Or they ended up there on their own, it's not that important. However, on one of the worlds, it turned out these wonderful creatures were living there," I pointed at the beetle. "They devoured the people, mutated, and the Wraith appeared."
"That's just terrible!" Teyla said.
"Hold on," I smiled, watching Trebal's face turn crimson. "There's something more interesting. Based on my knowledge, I want to say it's not definitively known whether the Ancients populated the entire galaxy — from plants to animals — or whether they simply implanted the ancestors of modern humans into the existing biome."
"What's the difference?" Kirik didn't understand.
"The difference is that either the Ancients were a bit shortsighted, not checking the planet for dangerous creatures, or the Ancients themselves were the cause of those creatures appearing," I explained. "Either way — directly or indirectly, the Ancients created the Wraith. I think, of course, not intentionally. They just, like all their creations, have one curious trait — they're bad at predicting consequences. Right, Trebal? When you changed the settings on the Hippaforalkus's command chair, you didn't know the whole ship would become one unprotected trap for my brain, did you? Or did you know and were trying to kill me?"
The Dorandan woman flinched, looking embarrassed when everyone except Chaya turned to stare at her. Licking her lips, Trebal seemed to lose her belligerence all at once.
"I... I didn't know that would happen," she admitted.
"But it seems to me you did know," Alvar drawled lazily. "And it was part of your plan to kill him."
"Idiot," Trebal hissed, looking at the Ermen. "If I'd wanted to kill him that way, I wouldn't have gotten into the commander's chair myself!"
"So maybe you knew you weren't in any danger," Kirik picked up. "Or maybe you're just not smart enough for someone who blames others for not warning about catastrophes when they knew how to handle the technology?"
"And that's all you have to say?" Trebal flared up. "As a matter of fact, she initiated your ward! Stole her childhood and all that!"
Such familiar words.
"As I recall, you weren't against it before," I reminded. Everyone should understand that Trebal was just looking for support from those present, using dirty tricks.
But apparently, explaining the obvious wasn't necessary.
"Seliza is happy that she can be useful to us all," Kirik said after thinking. "Even if it's not quite what I had in mind, but... For a girl from a race that had barely started thinking about stone houses to become a medic who can save lives, even Ancients' lives... If she's happy, I have no complaints."
It's just a pity that Seliza can't even partially reach the level of the "lesser races." Because she was underdeveloped before the initiation, her new limit is lower than even the Dorandans'. She couldn't get the full medical database — her brain wasn't developed enough for it. Just basic knowledge and access to controlling Ancient technology.
But in our case, that's already a lot. Because basic Ancient medical knowledge is far more than even the most brilliant medical luminaries on Earth could have had. Combined, I should say. Not to mention that the girl can generally look up what she doesn't know in the database.
"A therapist who Googles symptoms," but the Pegasus Galaxy version. Still, we have no other doctors.
"Double standards, as always," I agreed. "So, Trebal? Shall we start judging everyone?"
"And who are the judges?" she asked.
"Why, all of us," I pointed at myself, Alvar, Kirik, and Teyla. "Consider that we've all suffered, to some degree, from what the Ancients have done. So there are two options: either we stop this nonsense, or we start judging each other on the principle of collective responsibility? Though, the last thing I want to do is engage in idiocy."
Throwing an irritated glance at Chaya, Trebal said:
"Consider your girlfriend saved," she said with a hint of disgust. "But I should warn you — you'll lose quite a few allies over this. It would have been better if she were considered dead or Ascended."
"In that case, anyone who disagrees with the party line can fuck off in all four directions with what belongs to them personally," I replied dryly. "Let them turn in their uniforms, equipment, and everything else they received on Atlantis to the warehouses and go wherever they want. I'll say it once — for the nanites, for the Attero device, Chaya was already punished by the Atlantis Council. What happened to Dorandan wasn't due to her malicious intent — so there will be no punishment."
"That's unwise," Alvar interjected. "Those who leave know too much about our defenses and capabilities!"
"If they fall into the hands of the Wraith..." Teyla supported.
"They won't," Ihaar took the floor, looking at Trebal. "Because there won't be anyone willing to be left without support and protection in worlds where the Wraith could prey on them. At least not among the majority of the crew."
"You're forgetting the security service," Trebal said.
"They're all in stasis," Ihaar reminded. "And they'll remain there for quite a while... I think..." he looked at me. "Mikhail, I've had an idea. To avoid wasting time in the future bringing the revived up to speed, we could recreate a virtual environment and connect them to it. We'd go in there from time to time, update them on the news..."
"And at the same time, check the frozen ones' reactions to events," I thought. "And weed out the undesirables in advance. Whether to revive them or leave them sleeping forever is a secondary matter."
This approach would help us avoid wasting resources on those who might cause trouble from the inside for their own reasons. For example, because they disagreed with Chaya being alive and unpunished for the Dorandan Catastrophe.
I needed to firmly solidify my leadership and earn authority among my own people. I had some ideas for that.
As well as thoughts on how to solve the problems with my powerful Ancient enemies.
"Suppose I agree," I said. "For now, they're just lying in stasis without dreams?"
"Yes," Ihaar confirmed. "We're moving people from the ship to Atlantis: we've set up accommodations in several storage areas. As soon as the Wraith is able to revive more people, we'll continue restoring them."
"Good," I approved. "Now we finally need to settle the issue of unity of command and subordination."
"Starting to smell like army life," Alvar chuckled.
"In a way," I agreed. "But, as Lady Trebal has clearly demonstrated to us, we simply can't keep drifting with the current. So we need to establish priorities. So, does anyone have any objections to me becoming your permanent leader?"
Silence was my answer.
"Good," I concluded. "We'll proceed based on each of our abilities. Chaya has greater knowledge of Ancient technology and science than anyone present here. So she is appointed as my right hand and something like the Governor of Atlantis. Everything that happens in the city must be coordinated with her..."
"To the Ori," Trebal swore, rising from the table. "I'm not participating in this farce. You can hand out posts to your lovers and friends all you want, but it won't change the essence..."
Without saying goodbye, the girl left the Council Chamber.
"She has a hot temper," Ihaar tried to soften the situation. "She doesn't always accept things that are beyond her control. But she'll get used to it... Don't take her words to heart."
"Or we'll just have to break her neck," Kirik suggested. "Her grandstanding is getting tiresome."
"She takes blows to her authority painfully," Chaya explained. "I'll talk to her and..."
"No need," I countered. "I'll do it myself. So, let's continue. Ihaar, you'll assist Chaya and handle technical work outside of Atlantis and its mother planet. Teyla — your position remains unchanged. You represent the Athosians, you're responsible for food supplies from New Athos, and you'll also help us on missions."
"Of course, Mikhail."
"Alvar, take over training the Athosians in military science for now. For the moment, the only thing I can offer you is ground work as an infantryman… We're not exactly rich in fighters, but hopefully we'll solve that problem over time."
"No problem," the Ermen said indifferently.
"Kirik, you'll be in charge of Atlantis' security for incoming arrivals through the gate for now. Our security system isn't bad, but no one's ever complained about having too many sentries… You understand — we don't have many people, so most assignments are nominal. We'll work where we're most needed — including yours truly. First, we'll need a reconnaissance team to explore planets where Ancient technology might still remain. Ignoring anything that could help us grow stronger would be unwise…"
* * *
A chime from the door panel interrupted her right in the middle of packing her things. Trebal had no intention of opening the door — she didn't want to see anyone in her quarters.
But she wasn't particularly surprised when the door slid open without her consent. Nor was she surprised by who stood on the threshold.
"Do you mind if I come in?" Mikhail asked.
"Do I have a choice?" Trebal asked, closing the first bag. "Your girlfriend taught you how to bypass security protocols, so do whatever you want… I intend to leave Atlantis and return to my homeworld. Since it survived, since the gate is intact…"
"Oh, women," Mikhail walked in and sat down in an armchair. "Life on Dorandan isn't a walk in the park, you know. Radiation is still acting up in places, there's practically no food to be found. And honestly, I think you'd die stepping through the gate straight into space."
"So you're not going to give me a jumper?" Trebal shot him a glance.
"We don't have that many to hand out to every halfway pretty deserter who comes along," Mikhail explained.
"Pretty?" Trebal frowned. "Save those bland, crude compliments for your girlfriend. They have no effect on me except to irritate me."
"Chaya is my comrade, not my girlfriend," Mikhail objected.
"And you give her preferential treatment just because she knows how to slather paint on her face?" Trebal asked caustically. "Or are you saying Teyla lied to me when she said she saw you leaving Chaya's cabin early in the morning just before the battleship departed for the Aurora?"
"It's strange that you're interested in my personal life at all," Mikhail said, scratching above his eyebrow. "And that Teyla even noticed…"
"Changing the subject," Trebal stated. "Shifting the emphasis. Steering the conversation elsewhere. So I understood correctly — you're having an affair, and you decided to use your authority to protect your mistress. That's disgusting, you know. She's responsible for the deaths of millions…"
"As is Janus," Mikhail said coldly. "But you don't accuse him, despite objective evidence. Funny how that works… Even if we imagine for a moment that something actually happened between me and Chaya, and I didn't just stumble drunk into her room confusing it with mine, what business is it of yours? In my opinion, doing everything possible to protect someone you care about from certain death or danger — that's quite manly."
"From your point of view," Trebal snorted.
"Well yes, from mine," Mikhail agreed. "But I think you're furious now for a completely different reason. Because Janus didn't do the same for you."
Trebal felt an invisible hand squeeze her throat, and her heart began to beat faster.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Of course you don't," Mikhail said wearily. "At least you're pretending. But do you want me to tell you a story?"
"No. I want to leave."
"Then let's do it this way — I'll tell you a story, and in exchange you'll get a jumper, a supply of weapons, food, and medicine," Mikhail offered. "You can go to Dorandan, but on the condition that you don't go anywhere near the Arcturus project installation."
"Do you think I want to activate the device that killed my people?"
"I think you're burning up inside after our conversation in the Council Chamber. But not even because Chaya and her actions piss you off. But because you feel used. So, deal?"
"Deal," Trebal hissed, sitting down on the bed. "Ten minutes. Then I'm leaving."
"Five will be enough for me," Mikhail assured her.
"And how many women have you said that to?" Trebal asked, hoping to quickly get under his skin.
"You're my first," the man assured her. "So, the story. Remember on board the Aurora when you demanded the self-destruct override code from me?"
"Suppose I do."
"I also told you that I got the code from Tribune Titus," Trebal looked at Mikhail with a sharp gaze. "Yes, I found out the Aurora commander's name. And I wondered why you never once mentioned his name during our conversation. You know, I had a hypothesis, so I asked Ihaar. He explained that in the Lantean military hierarchy, only the first officer could address a commander by name, and even then only in informal settings. It was forbidden for everyone else, so much so that decades of serving side by side had etched it into their subconscious. And I became curious why you never once said his name…"
Trebal's mouth went dry.
"And then Chaya told me he was a member of the Atlantis Council. I remembered the code he gave me. And I thought: 'Why would an Atlantis councilor, sacrificing himself for others, give me this information? If the code is useless…' And then it clicked — the code was useless on board the Aurora. But maybe it wasn't intended for the battleship's onboard computer at all? We know how much the commander loved stimulating his interlocutor's mind. So I went to the Atlantis control chair…"
"Haven't you had enough trouble on the Hippaforalkus that you wanted to risk it again?" Trebal grumbled.
"Oh, Chaya was with me. You know, even though she's a villainess by your account, she really doesn't want me to die before my time. So she checked the chair and made sure it was safe. Can you guess what I did when I connected to Atlantis' central computer through the chair?"
"Entered the code," the girl hissed.
"Exactly," Mikhail confirmed. "And… Suddenly it worked. What's more, it turned out that part of Atlantis' encrypted databases were now accessible to me. Including everything related to the cases against Sar. Imagine my surprise when I learned that she wasn't the only one of Janus' lovers who was punished for her actions? Although some weren't as stupid as her and reported to the Council that Janus was involved in their experiments? I was particularly interested in the 'Ascension Machine' that Melia built on Janus' instructions. Oh, you've gone pale. Tell me, what exactly caught your interest? The fact that Melia — a Lantean and a specialist in human physiology — built a machine meant to stimulate human evolution but actually turned people into biomass, or that Melia slept with Janus? Or maybe the fact that Janus, a member of the Atlantis Council, vetoed Tribune Titus' initiative to remove you from the ship before the Aurora's final mission?"
Trebal listened in silence, boring her gaze into Mikhail.
"You were chosen as the prosecutor against Janus' lovers for a reason," the man continued. "Tribune Titus proposed it as part of your evaluation for a ship command position, and thanks to Janus, the initiative was approved. You became their prosecutor and managed to surprise the Council — despite not having extensive knowledge in the field of debate, you still managed to understand the nuances of dangerous technologies and build a case against those women. Although there were only five lovers, you sent over a dozen of Janus' students to trial. All thanks to your genius… How are you doing? No pangs of conscience? Or should I say it out loud?"
"Yes, Janus helped me understand their dangerous technologies, provided scientific consultation," Trebal admitted. "But if you're implying that I was also his lover, someone he used to cover his tracks, you're wrong."
"But he was covering his tracks," Mikhail said. "And you were biased. Titus and Janus were on very good terms. At least until Janus objected in the Council to Titus' candidacy for commander of the Aurora on its final mission. And in fact, he was the only one who could have been called your commander's friend. Janus used all of you, just as he used his students and lovers — he got what he wanted, and then got rid of you through other people's hands."
"And what was his purpose?" Trebal asked. "As the chief scientist, he could do almost anything he wanted…"
"That's exactly it — not everything," Mikhail added. "Before his students and lovers started getting caught with dangerous experiments, he himself had appeared before the Council a couple of times. Moros strongly disliked him and kept him under surveillance. So the sly scientist decided he could both test his ideas in practice and talk his way out of the consequences. All he needed was to find a fool who would believe him and carry out the experiment. And also a fool who would allow the organizer of dangerous experiments to serve as a scientific consultant for the investigation. Tell me, weren't you at all bothered by the fact that despite your courtroom victories, Moros — the head of the Atlantis Council — rejected Tribune Titus' request to make you commander of one of the ships? You tried so hard…"
"Moros had his reasons," Trebal hissed. "I suppose I wasn't good enough for a command position."
"Or maybe Moros wasn't stupid enough to believe in coincidences," Mikhail countered. "On one hand, Janus appears in all these cases, and he'd already been caught doing similar experiments before. By the way, most of them are encrypted so heavily that even Titus' code isn't enough to read those files."
"Because they're encrypted with Moros' personal code, not a junior councilor's or tribune's," Trebal explained. "The more we suffered in the war, the harsher he became. Under his leadership, the Council effectively turned into a dictatorship. Instead of using his intelligence and resources to find paths to victory, he dug through ancient archives, endlessly imposed bans on historical records, purged Atlantis' database, and busied himself with other foolishness."
"Or maybe he knew something he didn't want to tell the others," Mikhail shrugged. "Either way, in the events I'm aware of, Moros, after becoming Ascended, returned to human form to create a weapon against the Ori, whose threat he considered inevitable. And that's exactly what happened. Well, thanks to the actions of Earthlings, but that's a secondary concern…"
"Is that everything you wanted to tell me?" Trebal interrupted.
"I still have something up my sleeve," Mikhail assured her. "Don't you want to tell me why two of the most senior Lanteans in Atlantis tried so hard to promote you?"
"No, I don't."
"Strange. And about five minutes ago you were telling me how disgusting and immoral it is when a man gives preferential treatment to his woman…"
"I already told you — I was not Janus' lover!" Trebal said sharply. "Otherwise I would have been his wife, not Melia, after everything that happened."
"Well, I didn't know that…"
"Then you didn't read the files carefully enough," Trebal said irritably. "Because of her experiments with the 'Ascension Machine,' which killed several technicians, Melia lost her status as senior councilor. Only Moros remained — that was her punishment. But after the trial, Melia and Janus declared themselves a couple and from then on rarely disagreed. And I…"
"And you wanted to be in her place," Mikhail concluded. "A prominent man, working side by side for a long time…"
"I wanted to become something more than the permanent senior officer on an old ship," Trebal grimaced. "But I wanted to do it on my own. Even if through an alliance, at least people would stop looking at me like I was nothing…"
"And what about Titus?" Mikhail asked.
"What about him?" Trebal raised an eyebrow in confusion.
"It's just that…" the man shifted in his chair. "You were so close… You so passionately drilled into his brain in the virtual environment the way only a very close woman can. A wife, for instance, or a battle comrade…"
"Or a daughter," Trebal added coldly.
Mikhail swore.
"Seriously?! You're Titus' daughter?"
"An illegitimate child, the consequence of an affair half a lifetime before our final mission," Trebal forced out. "But I didn't know about it until we were trapped in the virtual environment. After about a couple of thousand years, he told me everything. How he helped me, tried to promote me, but Moros was categorically against it. You see, I'm not genetically good enough…"
"Santa Barbara with elements of Nazism," Mikhail shook his head. "I've got nothing on that…"
"Is that remark supposed to mean something to me?" Trebal clarified. "If not, I'd like to pick out a jumper."
"Alternatively," Mikhail sighed, "you could stop throwing a tantrum and listen to my proposal."
"No thanks," Trebal said. "You've already shown me that everything I did for you wasn't worth making me your right hand."
"Trebal," Mikhail said quietly. "Did you drink some courage potion or something?"
"No, what gave you that idea?" the girl shot a quick glance at him.
"And what gave you the idea that an attempted mutiny, working with technology that nearly killed me, intending to kill a woman who saved your life — combined with regularly breaking your own promises and chain of command — would make you my right hand?" Mikhail asked quietly.
Trebal sighed and shook her head.
"Because life is more interesting with bitches," she explained. "Every day is like walking on a volcano. It mobilizes the male psyche and bodily resources, which on a subconscious level allows you to overcome the laziness and sedentary instincts genetically ingrained in most of you."
Mikhail was silent for a few seconds, then clarified:
"Did you just come up with that?"
"About a minute ago," Trebal admitted. "You know, it hurts my pride to see someone like Sar rise head and shoulders above me. Especially when I have more Lantean blood in me than she ever will. Yes, I took too little from my father, but still — she doesn't even have that!"
"We're not in a hemoglobin rap battle here," Mikhail countered. "Chaya is better suited for this role because she knows Ancient technology better in general. Where you'd need assistants to figure out another shield technology, hyperdrive, and so on, she'd just do it all herself. That's why I had a different proposal for you…"
"I'm not sleeping with you," Trebal cut him off.
"Motherf—" Mikhail clutched his head. "What the hell is wrong with you, woman? How many times have you been hit on the head since birth to come out with stuff like that? First you undress yourself, then you're against it… How can anyone live with that kind of logic?"
"Why don't you lie in a cell for ten thousand years yourself," Trebal suggested. "And listen to stories about how the people you admired your whole childhood are actually the cause of all the problems happening."
"Yeah, but almost every conversation we have devolves into sex! Without any hints from my side!"
"It's just a joke," Trebal licked her lips. "An effective one, considering you'll be leaving my room now. I'm sure Sar is somewhere nearby and will imagine all sorts of things…"
"Get your head checked," Mikhail was on his feet. "I'm serious, woman. Either you've had a bullet in your head since birth, or the freeze damaged a piece of your brain. But these emotional swings — from flirting to being a nasty bitch — are really starting to irritate me. I only put up with it because I need a commander for the Hippaforalkus, but…"
"You're offering me command of a battleship?" Trebal perked up.
"Yes. Up until the point you started spouting nonsense about intimacy and…"
"Why nonsense right away?" Trebal batted her eyes. "Maybe your brain is sending you subconscious signals about my desires…"
"Trebal, if you behave reasonably, the battleship is yours," Mikhail said. "But another hysterical outburst, a meltdown, or anything else — I'll find someone to replace you. Clear?"
"Yes."
Mikhail squinted:
"And that's all you want to say to me? I just fulfilled your dream of over ten thousand years. You're now the captain of a warship."
"I appreciate it," Trebal replied with an impassive expression. Then, feigning genuine flirtation, she ran a hand over her chest. Hints promising more than met the eye. And a reaction that would be more eloquent than words. "And I'm grateful to you for such a gesture, given everything that binds us. I would have thanked you differently, but you yourself said that nothing can happen between us…"
She fell silent, watching his reaction. If he just wanted to show off, using Janus' method — first talk only about work, then try to get her into bed — then her provocation would work now. After all, he wasn't smart enough to understand women's tricks.
It seemed he had been telling the truth after all — otherwise why would his eye be twitching?
"Thank you for your honesty," Trebal rose from the bed and walked over to the man. Leaning in, she kissed him on the cheek. "You have no idea what it's like to be the illegitimate daughter of a tribune whom the Council already dislikes. I'm grateful to you that despite my awful personality, you still act pragmatically, not out of sexual preference or calculations for future favors. I'm pleased that you value me as a professional."
"You're welcome," Mikhail said. "The ship is yours. Just… don't crash it on your first sortie, okay? I can't stand it when a girl parks by ear…"