As always, passing through the Gate to another planet, located thousands of light-years from the original address, wasn't a big problem. The Jumper shot through the event horizon, materializing not only itself but also all the passengers inside.
Through the viewing port — the only one on this ship, mind you — I could see the endless green expanses of the Proculus meadows. And also the high, sheer mountains that surrounded the valley where we had moved the planet's Stargate from orbit.
"So you're saying the Ancients built a network of these Gates in every galaxy they ever visited?" Alvar asked, continuing the conversation we'd started on Taranis.
"Exactly," I confirmed. "As far as I know, the Gate Builders visited up to fifty galaxies on their journey."
"And these Builders..." Teyla hesitated. "They're automated spaceships?"
"Exactly."
"That the Ancients sent out millions of years ago?"
"More accurately, tens of millions of years ago," I corrected. "Or even hundreds. Sorry, friends, I don't remember exactly how long it's been."
"That's insane," Emmagan shook his head. "Why would they do that?"
"It's a very convenient way to travel between planets," Alvar said instead of me, while I flew around the valley's perimeter in cloak mode, scanning the interior space.
"Yes, but why did the Ancients need so many galaxies with Stargates installed?" Teyla asked.
"Why not?" I asked. "I don't have all the answers, so let me just tell you what I know. So. As far as I understand, the Stargate was invented by an Alteran — that's what the Ancients called themselves a very long time ago — back when they were preparing to leave their home galaxy."
"And what's it called?" Teyla asked.
"And how far is it from here?" Alvar echoed. "It's just that the Ancients said some Ori live there, and that they're very bad guys. Though no one's ever seen them in person."
"I haven't met them personally either, but... from what I know, they really are bad guys. So bad that the Alterans didn't want to mess with them and got out of there millions and millions of years ago. I don't know what their galaxy is called; in the events I know about, it was just called the 'Ori galaxy.' I suggest we call it that, okay? And yes, it's very far from here."
"We could look up what it's called in the Atlantis database," Alvar suggested. "It obviously has a name. You, for example, call your galaxy the Milky Way, but I heard from the Ancients that the Lantians also called it Avalon."
"That's what it was called back in the Alteran times," I agreed. "And no, that won't work. Too many database files — at least seventy percent — are encrypted with top-level access codes. Chaya is working on decrypting them or finding a key, but... as soon as you crack one, the rest immediately change their encoding. It seems the last advisor of Atlantis, Lord Moros, really didn't want his descendants to get their hands on their terrible and important secrets."
"Like how to make Drones, ships, and ZPMs?" Jensen suggested.
"Most likely," I agreed. "From what I understand of Lantian logic, it's all very ambiguous. It seems like they were guided by completely idiotic reasoning... but in reality, the reason was probably solid; they just traditionally didn't give a damn about explaining themselves."
Or maybe they're just getting their lulz, now that they've Ascended, watching their descendants rack their brains and die while studying ancient secrets.
"And why did the Alterans leave there?" Teyla asked. "From the Ori galaxy, I mean."
"The Ori and the Alterans developed together, and together they dreamed of something great and lofty," I said, relying on my memory. "But the Ori went all-in on religion, while the Alterans became masters of science..."
"Why would you eat an animal to prove your point?" Alvar asked.
"I don't know, ask Grishkovets," I suggested. "Anyway, it's a set phrase on Earth. It means you're very experienced at something."
"Your people have a strange way of speaking," Emmagan complained.
Yeah, well, at least we fly in space. Occasionally. Though, all the efforts of space exploration in the twentieth century are being nullified by the civilization's descent into barbarism watching various "TikToks," the rise of beauty bloggers, and other materialistic pursuits. Eh, we've lost our spirit of adventure, we're just doing some crappy shi...
"Did the Ori and the Alterans fight?" Alvar asked.
"No, it didn't come to that," I replied. "The Ancients could have given the Ori a serious scientific smackdown, but they were outnumbered. You know how it is, when you're up against a whole galaxy of people who fervently believe your enemies are gods, it kind of cools your ardor for fighting to the last. Especially since, according to some Ancients, the Ori tried to destroy the Alterans first. And they, deciding not to let it turn into a war of all against all, packed their bags, took their supporters, and took their leave. It seems they simply had no other choice."
"Obviously," Alvar agreed. "Ihaar once said the Alterans were too scared to fight and just ran away."
"I'd call it a tactical retreat," Teyla offered.
"I'd argue..."
"Alright, kids," I cut off my companions, looking at the scanner data. One, two, three... Not a bad haul. But it's clearly not all of them. "If we're done with the history lesson..."
"No, please, continue," Teyla said. "My people love stories. Especially when no one else can tell us more than you can. Not even the Ancients themselves."
And they couldn't care less about anything that happened before the Lantians came to the Pegasus galaxy. Like robots, I swear. Though, I can understand them too — they like working with Lantian technology without the Council breathing down their necks. They don't have time for lectures. What difference does the past make? Management said fix it, so they fix it, just as ordered.
Back on Earth, Roscosmos would kill for employees like that.
"The Alterans built a spaceship, and possibly the first City Ship, the predecessor of Atlantis, and left their home galaxy," I continued. "I can't say for sure whether it was before the Milky Way or after they settled there, but the Alterans encountered the Asgard. At least on one planet in the Asgard's home galaxy, Stargates were left behind after that. Or maybe the Asgard borrowed them from the Milky Way over time... But, either way, this conversation isn't about the Asgard right now."
The Asgard.
"They're also an advanced race, aren't they?" Alvar asked.
"A fairly advanced race," I agreed. "I think some of their technologies definitely surpass the Ancients' equivalents. But you have to understand, unlike the Lantians, the Asgard spent the last ten thousand years developing, not wasting time on Ascension. Though they have plenty of their own problems too. Speaking of which, there's a group of Asgard here in Pegasus. They came to solve some problems for their race, but the Wraith attacked them and destroyed their ships. Now they're forced to hide on a toxic planet."
"Are they hostile?" Teyla clarified.
"That's a complicated question," I admitted. "These guys have their own point of view, and they're ready to stick to it."
"But they're enemies of the Wraith, aren't they?"
"Yes, they'd be happy if all the Wraith dropped dead," I agreed.
"Then why don't we make friends with them?" Alvar asked. "Judging by the fact that you know about their planet, you must know how to find them."
What's more, I know the coordinates of the planet where their base is. And that base is a laboratory complex on a snow-covered moon, where Chaya activated the Attero device ten thousand years ago. And those little gray bastards want that too.
Making friends with them and offering help would be invaluable, of course. The Asgard really are smart guys. But... the specific Asgard who are currently in Pegasus at the Attero device base are damn radicals. They wouldn't hesitate to activate the device, which blows up Wraith hyperdrives, as well as the Stargates and the planets they're on, just to eliminate the Wraith threat. And the fact that millions of people across the galaxy would die from the Stargate explosions is just a side issue for these Vanir — the Asgard in Pegasus.
Honestly, I don't really care about abstract sentients in the Pegasus galaxy either. I'm not planning on becoming the defender of all humanity. But I understand that to destroy the Wraith this way would take decades, if not centuries. Finding and destroying all those bastards with just one ship, and without using the Stargates to move between planets... That's just an impossible task.
Not to mention that Chaya flat-out said she doesn't know how to shut down all the Gates in the galaxy so they can be turned back on later. And she doesn't know how to fix the Attero device.
So, the proverbial "Kill Everyone!" button is unavailable for now.
"In short, these Asgard, nicknamed the 'Vanir,' 'Dark Asgard,' aren't the friendliest folks," I briefly summarized what I knew about them from the series.
"I agree," Teyla paled. "In their quest to kill the Wraith, they're ready to commit genocide."
"Or maybe they're just desperate," Alvar noted. "You said it yourself, their race is degenerating because they've been cloning themselves generation after generation. It's logical that they're looking for a solution and are ready to go to extremes. If I were offered a way to save my people by exterminating the Wraith like that, I wouldn't hesitate long either."
"Remind me to keep you away from the weapons of mass destruction," I asked. "We still have to live in this galaxy."
"My proposal to blow up the Genii's Stargate on their home planet, or turn it off like the Lantians did on Salumai, still stands," Jensen said calmly.
"I remember. We're working on it. But have you considered that not the entire race is responsible for the actions of the Genii's insane government and their army?" I inquired.
Jensen fidgeted in his seat.
"So, what happened with the Alterans in Avalon?" he asked.
"They populated a number of planets, built a network of Stargates, which they called the 'Astria Porta,' and gave rise to humanity," I continued my story, realizing the Ermen wanted to change the subject. "On several planets, they built cities; on others, outposts. And they connected the planets with a Stargate network to facilitate travel between worlds and their colonization."
"Creating life is a very serious responsibility," Teyla said.
"I think they knew that," I suggested. "Anyway, it was around that time that the Alterans started thinking about a practical solution to one problem. Namely, reaching the center of the universe."
"Why?" Alvar asked.
"As far as I remember, from the center of the universe, formed by the Big Bang, comes a radiation called the cosmic microwave background. The Ancients believed it had an artificial origin. So, to find out what was going on there, they built Seeder ships and sent them towards the center of the universe. Plotting a course through the galaxies that lay in their path, these ships create and install first-generation Stargates on planets that the ships' computers deemed interesting."
"Interesting for what?" Teyla asked. "For creating new life?"
"Possibly," I suggested. "The thing is, another ship was launched after these Seeder ships, or Gate Builder ships. It has a Stargate installed on it that can be opened to step onto the ship at the right moment."
"And when will that moment come?" Jensen asked.
"I think it will be when the Destiny — that's what the ship sent after the Gate Builders is called — reaches its destination point," I suggested. "Or when it finally breaks down and can't continue its mission."
"And why can't we just open a Gate to that ship and take it for ourselves?" Jensen asked, intrigued. "If the Ancients built it so that it's been flying for millions of years without breaking down, flying into a star, or veering off course, then it's clearly a very good ship."
"In the events I know about, the Terrans sent a team there," I admitted. "And they found the starship in a sorry state. It's heavily damaged, and besides, it's not flying in hyperspace, but faster than light."
"But we could still take it for ourselves, right?" Teyla clarified. "Then we'd have two ships..."
"It's not that simple," I sighed. "First of all, all the information about the Destiny's mission, including the coordinates, is, as Chaya and I believe, securely encrypted in the Atlantis database. And we can't decrypt it. But we're trying. However, you need to understand that there are plenty of problems on board too. The ship, I remind you, has no hyperdrive. And it's already several dozen galaxies away from us. Plus, opening a hyper-tunnel to it would require a huge amount of energy."
"And how did the Terrans manage it?" Teyla asked.
"They used a planet with a highly developed energy core, like Athos or Taranis. Though, after opening such a hyper-tunnel, all the planets from which they opened hyper-tunnels to the Destiny exploded. And the ship itself probably can't open a Gate to anywhere except the Gates in the galaxy it's currently in."
"So, for the Ancients, this was a one-way trip?" Alvar clarified. "If the ship can't open a Gate back to the starting point, then the Ancients who were supposed to go there at the end of the mission wouldn't have been able to come back, right?"
"Most likely," I agreed. "Or, the Ancients assumed that over the millions of years it would take the starship to reach its final destination, they would find a way. Because it seems to me that the farther the Destiny is from Earth, where it was launched, the more energy it would take just to open a Gate to the ship."
"It's not like they developed much, is it?" Jensen grumbled. "Even when they were fleeing the Ori, they could already travel between galaxies. They populated two, maybe more, galaxies. Built, as you say, three whole versions of the Stargate..."
"That's right, three," I confirmed. "The first is on the Destiny and the Gate Builders, as well as in the galaxies the Destiny crossed; the second version is in the Milky Way and, possibly, in the Asgard's home galaxy. The third and most modern Gates are here, in Pegasus."
"So, I have a question," Alvar chuckled. "How is it that a race that learned to Ascend in the Milky Way millions of years ago, learned to build starships that fly in hyperspace, couldn't destroy the Wraith with some superweapon? It gives the impression that it wasn't millions of them, but a few thousand. And upon arriving from the Milky Way, they seemed to have lost all their achievements except for a few, and spent thousands of years recovering their knowledge."
"Actually, it's not entirely clear when the Ancients learned to Ascend," I corrected. "Before they left the Milky Way, or after they left Pegasus. Probably, in the first case, only a few managed it, but after their defeat by the Wraith, they became more advanced and understood what needed to be done for mass Ascension."
"Maybe," Jensen shrugged. "But, Mish, it all sounds like bullshit. How could people who built a ship millions of years ago that's still flying between the stars and hasn't completely fallen apart, not figure out how to produce ZPMs in quantities large enough to power cannons on every single planet? Say, if I'm taught how to assemble and disassemble an assault rifle, I won't forget that over the hundreds of years of my life, if I live that long. And my children will know it, because I'll tell them and show them. And so on. But from your story about the Ancients, I get the feeling that with every migration from galaxy to galaxy, they only got dumber."
"Maybe even Mikhail doesn't know everything," Teyla suggested.
"I'm inclined to agree," I nodded. But there's something to Jensen's words... I hadn't really noticed it before, but... it really doesn't add up somehow.
If the Ancients could already create ZPMs and homing projectiles millions of years ago, then... why didn't they develop better weapons over the millennia that passed from the exodus from the Milky Way to Pegasus?
Another point — the Ancients in the Milky Way had superpowers. Telekinesis, they could heal by laying hands on a sick person, but... I haven't seen the Lantians do that. And certainly not the lesser races.
Interesting facts... Alvar might be right to some extent after all.
"By the way, the truth might lie in what you said about them losing some of their knowledge," I said. "It's known that the Ancients fled the Milky Way because the Ori infected them with some incurable plague that killed everyone in the galaxy. It seems the Ancients had to repopulate it when they came back from Pegasus. Well, and there was no point in developing further, since they had found a proven method to Ascend..."
"Which is exactly what they did, walking away from all their problems," Jensen snorted. It seems I'm not the only one annoyed by these quirks of the Ancients. "And in reality, they left behind a huge heap of problems as a 'legacy' in Pegasus alone. Problems that we have to deal with."
"We don't have to deal with them," Teyla said. "Chaya has already shown how to isolate some Gates so they work separately from the rest. We could live in peace for hundreds of years that way."
"Until the Wraith, who have seen our ship, figure out that some planets have become inaccessible to them through the Gate," I reminded her. "And then they'll come on ships to sort things out. No, unfortunately, we won't be able to hide in our own little corner from everyone. We're forced to look for abandoned technologies, forced to look for ZPMs, ships, and so on."
Not to mention that the Ascended will clearly have no problem hinting to me that it's time to deal with the problems in the Milky Way. To keep them from doing it by directly pounding it into my head, there's a plan that's currently in the works.
But it requires resources and, especially, power sources. As well as the security of our planets, so we can safely send the Hippaforalkus on reconnaissance.
Sending the only interstellar battleship to another galaxy, leaving the planets under our control, scattered all over Pegasus, open to invasion from space, would be a huge stupidity. It would be a different matter if we had more ships.
But first, we need intergalactic hyperdrives. And even Chaya can't help with that — we need energy and knowledge that we don't have. So, solving the global problems is a long way off.
"Let's get back to the Stargates," I said. "Chaya asked me to at least explain the theory to you. And, considering I know some information that even she doesn't, this flight is perfect for it."
Especially since the number of life signs below us has already started to decrease.
"I don't think we'll ever be messing with these Gates ourselves," Alvar lamented. "Chaya once showed me the DHD on Ermen, taking off various protective panels... You can't make heads or tails of it!"
"Still, you need to know at least the theory," I insisted. "So, you already know that one Stargate, when an address is activated, creates a stable artificial wormhole between itself and another Stargate, providing almost instantaneous travel from the dialing gate to the destination gate, but not the other way around."
"Yes, I've always wondered why you can't travel through the Gate in both directions when it's open," the Ermen said. "Or why you can't enter from the other side, only from the 'front.'"
"Actually, some types of radiation, like energy or radio signals, can pass in both directions," I said. "As for the rest... Chaya said it's related to the technology itself. Essentially, the hyper-tunnel created between the Gates is somewhat analogous to the one a ship creates when it enters hyperspace. And there, you also can't fly in either direction — only forward. The laws of hyperspace don't allow sending large volumes of matter in two directions. They also don't allow using the 'back' side of the Gate — during the creation of the hyper-tunnel, that side acts as something like the walls of the hyper-tunnel. And, just like in a hyperspace jump, if you cross them, you'll be torn to pieces. So, my friends, never fall out of hyperspace through the tunnel's ceiling — you'll be torn to shreds."
"I'm kind of losing my desire to fly on spaceships," Teyla admitted. She's a bit of a coward...
"Let's continue," I decided. "When a given address is entered, the dialing gate connects to the receiving gate via subspace communication and quickly exchanges precise location data, then establishes a stable wormhole between them. Upon activation, the Stargate produces a powerful energy discharge, known as an unstable vortex or 'Kawoosh.' This is due to the large amount of energy needed to form a stable wormhole, while keeping one open requires much less energy. This event will destroy any matter it comes into contact with; however, if the event horizon is blocked to within a few microns, the vortex will be suppressed."
"Chaya said that the Atlantis shield is created at a distance of those very microns from the event horizon," Teyla showed off her knowledge.
"Exactly," I confirmed. "This distance not only suppresses the 'Kawoosh' and secures the arrival area, but also prevents the full materialization of objects after the transition. Consequently, without authorization codes, no one will get through our Gate, even if they have these wonderful devices," I demonstrated the black glove-like devices that Chaya had created for all the inhabitants of Atlantis.
"When the Gate is ready to activate, it makes sounds," Alvar recalled. "Loud ones, like a gate slamming shut. What's that?"
"To warn people in the area of the unstable vortex, the Stargate emits an 'alarm signal' consisting of two loud sounds of medium or high pitch," I said. Well, it wasn't for nothing that I read the database about the Gates on Atlantis. Not of my own free will — Chaya set about filling the gaps in my knowledge. Since I'm biologically too old to have my brain and evolution stimulated in the holographic room, there's no better way to learn than reading good old books. For now, even in Russian. But Chaya persistently wants me to learn the Ancient language. At least the basics. It turns out there are also dozens of dialects. Their pronunciation doesn't differ much, but the writing... It reminds me a bit of the situation with Chinese dialects and their main language. "The Gate system is designed to be used by those who understand the principle itself. That's why the sound signals are mostly designed for less developed races than the Lantians. For the same reasons, the DHDs are located outside the zone where the 'Kawoosh' is created. Next, let's move on to the physics of the transition itself. After the unstable vortex is formed, it settles on the event horizon. The Terrans, by the way, called it a 'puddle,' because..."
"A stable hyper-tunnel looks like a puddle of water in a container," Alvar finished the thought. "That's what they called it on Ermen too."
"Among our trading partners, the Ring of the Ancients is often called the 'Circle of Still Water,'" Teyla shared.
"Well, that's interesting," I remarked, assessing the thinking style of people in different galaxies. The analogies are similar, as is the physiology, by the way. "So, travelers enter through the Event Horizon, which dematerializes them for transport through a wormhole, to be reassembled on the other side. Matter is broken down, converted into energy, and reassembled on the other side exactly as it was."
"Just like in the Lantian transport chambers," Alvar noted.
"Exactly. The same principle," I confirmed. "The Stargate will remain open as long as matter or energy is passing through it, for a maximum of 38 minutes."
"But the gate closes immediately after the last person goes through," Teyla reminded me.
"Because there's no one in the Kawoosh's discharge radius," I explained. "This zone isn't just for creating the vortex; it also determines the volume of objects that, by being in it after the tunnel opens, affect its opening. If there's nothing there, the gate closes immediately after the last person or object passes through. If there is something, it only closes after thirty-eight minutes. However, in the first case, the gate doesn't close instantly, but only after the objects or travelers have materialized on the other end. That takes about three seconds. After that, maintaining the wormhole requires a colossal amount of energy that ordinary sources can't provide. But if you have powerful generators, or, say, a ZPM powering the gate, you can keep it open indefinitely. The same goes for transmitting energy through the gate — if the volume is large, the gate won't close until the energy flow through the hyper-tunnel stops."
"Large volumes of energy can cause the gate to explode, can't they?" Alvar asked. "Like what happened on Salumai."
"Correct. That's why transmitting energy through them must be done very carefully. Naquadah has a limit to how much energy it can absorb. If that limit is reached, the gate turns into a bomb."
"Like what happened on Salumai," Teyla nodded.
"Yeah, the whole planet became a bomb there," Alvar snorted.
"Let's continue our crash course," I said. "The Pegasus gates have thirty-six symbols for dialing coordinates; in the Milky Way, there are thirty-nine — Avalon is bigger than Pegasus. To travel within a galaxy, you need to dial a six-symbol address on the gate; the seventh, unique to each gate, designates the point of origin. This is called a Stargate address."
"Ahem," Teyla coughed into her fist. "We know how to use the Ancestors' Rings at this level."
"Do you know, my friends, that the symbols on the gate represent constellations visible from the planet?" I inquired. I could see from their faces that they didn't.
"What about the galaxies that Destiny visits?" the Athosian woman asked. "Are constellations fixed there too?"
"No, on the first-generation gates, abstract symbols are used instead of constellations," I recalled. "Now let's move on to the chevrons. They're those wedge-shaped things located around the gate. There are nine in total. You dial seven, and if the gate address is correct and the gate on the other side is available, you establish a hyper-tunnel within a specific galaxy. An eight-chevron address also requires a huge amount of energy, on the level of a ZPM, because it leads to another galaxy. Without an energy source on the other side of the gate, you can't get back."
"So that's why you don't go to Avalon through the gate," Alvar figured out. "There's nothing like a ZPM on Earth?"
"Since they didn't come to Pegasus, I suspect not," I concluded.
"And the ninth chevron?" Teyla inquired. "What's it for?"
"The address for Destiny consists of nine symbols," I said.
"Can you dial ten symbols? Theoretically?"
"No. The maximum possible address consists exclusively of nine symbols. And it only leads to Destiny. And it's not really an address, mostly just a recognition code. Upon receiving it, the ship drops out of hyperspace, establishes its exact location, and waits for arrival. Oh, and also — if the gate is moving through space, it's impossible to connect to it. You can ask Chaya for the exact maximum speed for travel and hyper-tunnel activation, if you want."
"That makes it even more stupid," Alvar sighed. "First-generation gates built in other, uninhabited galaxies can only connect to other gates of the same type and only within that galaxy. The Ancients built at least two gate networks with nine chevrons... Just for Destiny? Why? So you could reach it from anywhere? But you just said it requires a whole planet's worth of energy. And not just any planet, I gather. They had so much time and resources to create two whole gate networks with nine chevrons, just to travel from every planet to other galaxies or to Destiny? That's insane! They didn't seem to have assembly lines for anything except those very gates. And each one with nine chevrons... It would have been much more economical to build seven-chevron gates for the whole galaxy, and only a few gates with eight or nine. More economical and more logical."
"I'm sure there was some logic to it," I replied after thinking. "But it seems alien to us. I don't think the Ancients, when creating their gate networks and human civilizations, thought they would die out from a plague or be defeated by the Wraith. This approach was probably dictated by the assumption that they would populate the galaxy and develop it. And that millions of years later, every planet would be inhabited by beings as advanced as they were. Beings who would possess colossal energy sources and could go anywhere directly from their gates."
Otherwise, Alvar was right, and it was all just madness.
"If that's the case, they were incredible optimists," the Ermen snorted.
"Now let's move on to the Dialing Devices," I said. "All Stargates in each galaxy are connected into a network through Dialing Devices. This is necessary not only for dialing addresses but also for the gates to exchange information with each other. For example, about planetary drift over millennia. This has to be accounted for to keep the hyper-tunnel stable. I recall that the Terrans, when they didn't know this, initially came out of the gate frostbitten. Or flew out of it like a bullet from a gun barrel."
"Not very pleasant," Teyla agreed.
"You know, I've been thinking," Alvar voiced. "If the gates on Destiny are so simple, then they're not really gates at all. Not even a gate network in the galaxy. They're some kind of prototypes. For testing the technology or saving energy, say."
"That could very well be," I agreed. "All versions of the gates — in Avalon, in Pegasus, and those on Destiny — differ from each other both technically and functionally. For example, the gate network laid down ahead of Destiny doesn't cover the entire galaxy, only a narrow 'corridor' that the Seeder Ships passed through. Moreover, from such a gate, you can't connect to just any gate in the same galaxy — only to those located nearby. Also, there are no Dialing Devices on the planets — travelers have to use special dialing computers they carry with them. However, there are quite a lot of limitations there that you don't need to know about yet. This is an introductory lecture, not a practical course."
The Stargate on the ship Destiny. On planets in other galaxies that Destiny visited, but where the Ancients never were, the gates are exactly the same. They're just mounted on ramps.
Like these.
"I suppose the Milky Way gates are also different from the ones we know in Pegasus?" Teyla asked.
"Yes," I confirmed. "I already mentioned the greater number of symbols. Also, unlike our gates, in Avalon, the lower part of the upper triangular chevron slides forward when a symbol is locked. With a characteristic sound of a lock engaging. By the way, the chevrons on the Milky Way gates are red, not blue like ours. They are also built into the inner ring of the gate. Most gates are built into a stone platform with a staircase for easy access. The inner ring rotates during dialing, and it can be moved manually with some effort to dial the gate in the absence of external control, if enough power is supplied to unlock the ring. But you need to understand that in this case, each symbol is dialed sequentially, which takes a long time. During which someone on the other side could dial this gate's address and establish an incoming connection."
"You can't pull that off with Pegasus gates," Alvar said, scratching the back of his head.
"Yes, they don't have a moving inner ring," I confirmed. "The Pegasus gates are more advanced compared to all the others."
Milky Way Stargate.
"And what's the fundamental difference?" Alvar asked. "Besides the number of symbols and the moving inner ring. Oh, and right, the blue color of the chevron crystals..."
"The difference is roughly the same as between the wired technology on Taranis and the crystal technology of the Lantians," I said. "The symbols aren't engraved on the inner ring but are digital symbols that light up on the dial. If we're talking about programming the Pegasus gates, only the Atlantis gate, thanks to additional devices, can dial an address outside the galaxy. I think it's a safety measure, just like the absence of intergalactic hyperdrives on spaceships other than city-ships."
I kept quiet about the fact that, if necessary, this crystal could be removed and installed on others, thereby giving other gates the ability to dial intergalactic addresses. As well as the fact that Chaya could, in principle, manufacture an additional set of crystals for this if needed.
"Also, the Pegasus gates, thanks to their new design, have a dominant position over all other gates," I continued. "If, for example, you place a Milky Way gate and a Pegasus gate next to each other, all incoming wormholes, regardless of which gate's address is dialed, will connect through the Pegasus gate."
Typical Stargate in the Pegasus galaxy. In a Lantian setting, naturally.
"And in other galaxies, were gates placed in orbit?" Teyla inquired. "There are such gates in Pegasus."
"Until recently, the Proculus gate was in orbit," I reminded her. "We brought it down into this valley some time ago. And we studied the stabilizing thrusters it has. But no, in the Milky Way, this approach to gate placement doesn't exist."
"There are rumors that the Wraith placed gates that way to stop people from escaping their feeding planets," Teyla said. "But that rumor is many years old. One of the now-extinct races managed to track that some gates were in planetary orbits. Then they ran into the Wraith and died... the people of Pegasus know many addresses where going leads to death. That's why few people search for new addresses — without technology like your drones, few want to go to a new world and die, ending up not on a planet, but in its orbit."
"We checked the addresses you gave us," I said. "Not all of them lead to space, by the way. Some are on toxic planets, others on planets occupied by the Wraith. So it's..."
"So who put the gates in orbit?" Alvar asked. "The Wraith or not?"
"There are gates that the Lantians placed in orbit," I confirmed. "These gates have stabilizing thrusters that keep them in orbit and correct for random collisions. This also protects them from damage. There is confirmation that the Wraith have settled on some of these planets. On other worlds, where the gates don't have thrusters but are also in space, the Wraith have also settled. I think it was done on purpose. After all, this approach protects them from attacks by various avengers who gather armies to get their people back. But it doesn't stop them from sending 'darts' through the orbital gates for hunting and harvesting. Well, and Teyla is right — it also prevents people from escaping the planets. In short, a convenient approach. I think this tactic didn't spread in the Milky Way because the technology for ships flying through the gates isn't developed there. At least, not widely developed."
Lantian Spacegate.
"And why would the Lantians install gates in orbit?" Alvar wondered.
"Who knows," I shrugged. "There aren't really any records about it, and the ones that exist indicate that the approach to each planet was individual. There were separate plans for each such planet, but for the most part, as far as I can see, they didn't come to fruition."
"Like all the Ancients' plans," Alvar snorted habitually. "Some advanced civilization."
"There's a saying: 'If you want to make the gods laugh, tell them your plans,'" I declared philosophically.
Actually, that's why I prefer to keep quiet about my own plans.
About how, when, and with what forces I intend to go to the Milky Way and take all of the Ancients' legacy there into my own hands.
And about the fact that, as soon as a real opportunity arises, I'll send spare parts, a technical team, and tons of equipment to Destiny. The Alteran plan to reach the center of the universe is, of course, all well and good. But I need starships. And on Destiny, unlike, say, the Hippaforalkus, there are perfectly adequate energy weapons that haven't lost their relevance or destructive power over millions of years.
I don't know what happened to the Ancients during all this time, and why their technology changed so radically from simple to complex and inconvenient, but I'll find out in time.
Well, for now...
Looking at the virtual screen, I noted that the number of life signs in the valley had dropped to the agreed-upon level.
"We're descending," I informed the team. "Time to clarify one extremely interesting question, my friends."
* * *