A couple of refreshing sips, a little medical intervention, and sensible thoughts appear in my head:
"So what does that change?" I wondered more to myself than to Chaya. "Did I think that, having regained consciousness on a machine that produces nanites and humanoid Replicators, I wasn't created exactly the same way? It's not like I was born to a mom and dad in this universe."
Chaya seemed to even breathe a sigh of relief.
"Understanding and accepting are different things," she said. "It's good that you're taking it so easily."
"This isn't my first life," I chuckled. "I can afford to treat unnatural things with philosophical phlegmatism."
"That's good," Chaya said. "However... I thought you'd be interested in why the Lantians were creating bodies for themselves that were more advanced than their own."
"And how many did they create?" I asked.
"Hundreds," Chaya lowered her voice. "If I understood the personality data correctly, then... They were by no means ordinary sentients. Janus, Melia, Ganos Lal..."
"Moros?" I guessed.
"I didn't find his data in the device," Chaya admitted. "However... That information could have been deleted. Or never entered into the lab log."
"Strange that they entered it at all," I admitted.
"It was hidden in subroutines," Chaya said. "If you're not looking for it specifically, having your data for comparison, you wouldn't find it."
"Curiouser and curiouser," I declared. "And what does this give us? That some Lantians wanted fancier bodies?"
"Some of them," Chaya confirmed. "Given the importance of this research, Moros would have had to authorize it. And here, it seems, he wasn't even informed."
"I don't think he wouldn't notice an energy leak from the ZPM," I snorted. "Creating that many bodies must have drained a lot of resources."
"It must have," Chaya confirmed. "And for some reason, it wasn't detected by the monitoring services."
"Smells like detective intrigue in the best traditions of conspiracy theory," I summed up, feeling tired. Not physical — mental. I'm starting to get genuinely annoyed by the fact that this seems like a cozy universe, with next to no secrets... But in reality, every other word here could hide some mystery. Then again... What else do you expect from a race that leaves a message for its descendants like — "we were so good, we came to a dead galaxy, settled it, but on one planet we encountered an enemy that was hibernating"? When in reality, it turns out they themselves contributed to that very enemy's appearance. "And, honestly, I don't care. Unless, of course, it leads us to a ZPM, a drone arsenal, a storage room with spare parts, or something like that."
"Who knows," Chaya smiled mysteriously. "What if it does?"
I looked at the crystal-clear water in my glass. Thought about it. Took a sip. Refreshing. Thought again.
"Which is more dangerous — a beautiful beast that's always baring its teeth, or a cute one that can eat you in one sitting?" I asked.
"A philosophical debate?" Chaya clarified.
"A comparison of Trebal and you," I didn't hide it. "You clearly didn't start all this for nothing. You caught up to me at the transport booth, took advantage of my stupor, led me to the lab, the story about nano-production of bodies... And the intrigue, like, solving this mystery will lead us to something interesting. Can we stop testing my intelligence already? We're supposedly fighting on the same side. So why stir up intrigue against each other?"
"Cute one that can eat you in one sitting," Chaya repeated, as if tasting the words. "Interesting comparison... It's kind of offensive, but... I like it."
She smiled.
"Cha-ya," I drawled. "Don't stretch my patience. It doesn't make good rubber."
"It seemed to me that you like unraveling mysteries," she rested her elbow on the back of the couch, sat half-sideways, and propped her head on her palm. "The spirit of exploration and all that."
I need to learn how to throw chairs.
"And what's closer to the point?" I asked.
"Remember I told you about the weapon the Epheans — Fren's people — wanted to create?" Chaya asked.
"I remember," I nodded. "They built and built, and never built it. How does that relate to our affairs? Nanites, cunning Lantians, and super-bodies?"
"Actually, I'm still putting the pieces of the puzzle together, but... The Epheans believed they could create something that would render their enemies' technologies useless," Chaya said. "Something that would turn them off and prevent the enemy's weapons and technology from harming them... Sound familiar?"
I honestly searched my memory.
"Not really," my admission drew a heavy sigh from the Proculucian woman. "I can't remember and know everything."
"You can, if you want to," Chaya assured me. "I saw your scan data after the stroke. You achieved peaks of brain activity unprecedented even for Lantians. And that doesn't just happen. You can't use more of your body's capabilities than evolution has developed."
"I knew a guy who could charge water through a TV, and no one else could," I recalled the "wild nineties." "Though, there's an opinion he was a big liar."
"There are limits to the natural development of the body," Chaya said. "The more developed an organism, the more time it needs to evolve. It can take millions of years before certain parts of the brain cease to be just a collection of convolutions and neurons and actually get utilized."
"Unless you have a miracle shot from the Lantians that will make you closer to them overnight," I yawned. It was about time I got used to the fact that Chaya, like all geniuses, thinks in slightly different categories. And advances several conversation topics at once. Right now, for example, she's continuing the topic of the Lantians' developed bodies. And I'm sure she hasn't forgotten about the weapon that turns off other weapons. "But even that doesn't make you a super-genius."
"Correct, because it depends on the original development of the organism," Chaya said. "And so, the question arises. If such a genetic therapy could, say, improve an Ancient gene carrier by several orders of magnitude, then why did they, possessing it, use nanites to create new, more developed bodies? Why not directed mutations or accelerated evolution?"
"The weapon topic is more interesting to me," I admitted.
"Think, Misha, think," Chaya almost begged me. "Of the two of us, you have the more developed brain. And with your metaknowledge and broader imagination, it's easier for you to find the answer than for me. Unfortunately, I am limited by my own development and knowledge, by the tunnel vision of technological and scientific advancement. But we are clearly dealing with something that was supposed to take a different path, not a Lantian one. The question is why..."
Why, why. When you've matured and hit some kind of ceiling, you can't jump higher than your head and...
I opened my mouth to say that, then closed it. I needed to think about what had come to my mind.
"It seems you have an idea," Chaya said.
"Genetic therapy is two-phase, right?" I clarified. And, without waiting for an answer, I said:
"Yes, it is. First, the Ancient gene is introduced, and only then the evolutionary cocktail that makes the race one or two orders of magnitude better. And only after that did the Lantians share their technology. But we also know that some races had such a weak gene that they couldn't even pilot a Jumper. There are people on the Aurora crew who have no gene at all — it degenerated after a few generations. So why give it at all, if you can just develop a race, give them the knowledge, and let them build the same technology, but without using the gene?"
Chaya wrinkled her brow.
"But then how would they interface with Ancient technology?" she asked. "The key technologies were precisely Lantian, and they had a genetic lock..."
"Suppose a race has a million people. Are they all so developed that not one would think of using the technology to stage a coup or build a superweapon to take over the galaxy?" I asked.
"Highly unlikely," Chaya said after a moment's thought. "The Lantians didn't give advanced technologies to the lesser races. Only the public ones and..."
"Exactly," I snapped my fingers. "The natives can't drive out the colonizers if the former have flintlock pistols and the latter have machine guns."
Chaya closed her eyes for a couple of seconds.
"The colonists limit the natives' development by giving them the least effective technology," she murmured, opening her eyes. "Then the question arises: why do you need natives at all if you're afraid of them?"
"And why do they colonize worlds?" I clarified. "Resources, Chaya. Natural resources, human resources. There weren't many Lantians, and they had advanced technology. They chose races who wouldn't worship them but would understand just how cool and developed their benefactors were. The genetic therapy was needed primarily so the natives could work and do all the grunt work. Manufacture simple technology, for example. Or provide an influx of intellectual capital, developing something new based on Ancient technology."
"And this new thing is quite easily integrated into the Lantian scientific sphere because it's built on their principles, their technology, and under their actual supervision," Chaya gasped. "The genetic therapy ensured that the lesser races would produce compatible technology!"
"And here's where I have an addition," I said. "You can produce the needed technology without the Ancient gene. After all, some devices are simple enough to just turn on. But... What will happen to the genetics of a small population without an influx of fresh gene pool?"
"Gradual degeneration," Chaya blurted out. "Proculus had something similar when the monarchy existed. Consanguineous marriages worsened the ruling dynasty's genes, and over time each generation became uglier, stupider..."
"Now imagine your technology is tied to genetics," I continued. "And the worse your blood, the weaker the Ancient gene, the less you can do. Choosing partners from your acquaintances only makes things worse... But if you have alternatives..."
Chaya went pale, which isn't easy for dark skin.
"In the form of a less developed but genetically enhanced set of lesser races," she said.
"Then interbreeding would ensure genetic diversity," I concluded. "Yes, genetics is unpredictable, but... If you live for hundreds of years, then... Why not?"
"Both slaves and incubators," Chaya grabbed her head. "I... I would never have figured that out in a million years!"
"Yep," I raised my water glass victoriously. "Turns out, the Untermenschen are needed by the higher races not just as servants. Galactic Nazism, eugenics, and hypocrisy in one bottle!"
"Others lie," Chaya recalled one of the theses. "So that's what that phrase meant..."
"It could mean anything," I said. "Like 'Others.' Here, every time you turn around, there are secrets. What's more, I think I know why the Lantians needed more modern bodies. More developed ones, I mean."
"Well?" Chaya asked cautiously.
"All the same thing," I said. "Development limits. You said it yourself — naturally, evolution from one stage to another can take millions of years. When we flew to Proculus to feed Koschei, Alvar said, as if in passing, that the Ancients, having fled the Milky Way, seemed to have grown stupider. Like they started over, regressing in development."
"If that's the case, then the body project is an attempt to force their own evolution artificially," Chaya said, catching the thought and getting excited. "They needed a more robust and faster biological foundation to accelerate their own intellectual growth."
"Exactly. And instead of taking the slow, natural path, they decided to hack evolution. But the nanites, as we know... rebelled; the project was moved to Asurans; and the Replicators appeared from that catastrophe. What followed was a war; the Asurans were destroyed; and the device with the nanites ended up in the hands of a human team..."
."..who, trying to save one of their own, created your body," Chaya finished. "And thus, the 'hack' was born, but in a different form. That's why you have a brain that operates at the extreme limits of possibility."
"A fluke?" I asked, taking another sip of water. "A random mutation, or was it intentional?"
"Impossible to say without a detailed analysis of the device's memory," Chaya shook her head. "And the device itself is currently in the hands of the Earth ONI. I doubt they'll give it back willingly."
"Then it's a dead end," I concluded. "We can't check the logs. And even if we could, I'm not sure they'd give us a clear answer. Nanites, like any complex system, have room for error."
Chaya nodded.
"But we can try to find your creator."
"Who? That general... Hippa-what's-his-name?" I frowned. "We might as well look for a needle in a haystack. He's somewhere in the galaxy, if he's still alive. And if he is a Replicator, then he's probably not eager to meet the one who turned his kind against him."
"All the same, it's a lead," Chaya said. "We have his designation. We know the approximate time of the event. We can search the Lantian archives. The Aurora logs might have some records."
"And if we find him, what then? 'Excuse me, did you, by any chance, create a guy with a super-brain capable of killing Replicators?'" I chuckled. "He'll either run or try to kill us. Either way, it's a waste of time."
"Perhaps," Chaya admitted. "But the fact remains: your existence is an anomaly. And anomalies, as a rule, are either a mistake or a plan. If it's a mistake, then we have nothing to fear. If it's a plan..."
."..then someone is pulling strings we can't see," I finished. "And that someone, knowing about the Replicators, the nanites, and the Lantian conspiracies, might be an even bigger threat than a galaxy full of robots."
We sat in silence, each lost in thought.
"So," I finally said, draining my glass and setting it on the table, "what's next? Do we look for the elusive general, or do we focus on getting my body to stop attracting all kinds of trouble?"
"Both," Chaya said firmly. "But for now, we focus on the immediate tasks: repairing the Aurora, replenishing supplies, and preparing for the next encounter. We can't afford to get sidetracked by every mystery."
"Agreed."
"And Misha," Chaya added, looking me straight in the eye, "try not to cut yourself anymore. It's unsettling."
"No promises," I smirked.
"If the plague in Avalon destroyed the flower of their nation — the scientists and thinkers — and only a handful of mediocrities survived, then they had to rethink a great many things," Chaya said, bewildered. "Even if you know the notes, you can't play the same masterwork on equal footing with a virtuoso if you've only just started learning music."
"True," I agreed. "And now, let's remember that the Asurans fled the Milky Way together with the Lantians. They were fairly advanced technologically. So advanced that they could produce very, very rare and dangerous technologies. Moreover, thanks to me, we can say for sure that the Replicators that developed on Asurans completely copied ships, city-ships, designs, weapons, ZPMs, and who knows what else. If your goal is to keep the natives under control and use them, you'd hardly hand them that much."
"And you certainly wouldn't give them cutting-edge technology like nanites," Chaya concluded.
"Especially if the natives can possess technology and knowledge that would let them rewrite the base code and the prohibition against attacking their creators," I concluded.
The girl looked into my eyes for a long time. It was clear she had some thoughts, but either they hadn't taken shape, or she was simply afraid to say them aloud.
Which, honestly, was the same for me.
Tribune Titus preferred to die rather than return to life knowing that the Ancients, like the Ori, draw power from those who venerate them. Not religiously, of course, but a mention is enough. The form doesn't matter, only the intent.
It's almost a religion.
I remembered the words an acquaintance once told me: "Prayer is not a demand for how to address God, but an example. You don't always have to recite it word for word—God will hear you even if you address him without knowing the prayer. What matters is that you address him."
Yes, it's an Earth religion. And yes, I might have misunderstood or misremembered something. But it's too similar to what Titus said: it doesn't matter how you address the Ascended—Ancients, Ancestors, Creators, Alterans, Lantians, and so on. It doesn't matter in what form the address is—deliberate recollection or casual mention. What matters is speaking of them.
And then the energy from that conditional veneration flows from the physical being to the Ascended. The Ori achieved this through long prayers, while the Ancients... managed with far less. But it happened more often, in passing... How many times during this conversation have Chaya and I mentioned the Ancients? Suppose one mention gives one conditional unit of energy... And we mention them almost constantly. Even when, say, Teyla talks about the current inhabitants of Atlantis, calling them Ancestors or Ancients, she generates conditional faith energy. Which only specific Ascended, the Ancients, can capture.
A fucking zoo...
But the worst part of all this is something else.
All that Nazi eugenics, the nanomachines, giving them to the Asurans, who were then destroyed despite being on par with the Lantians in development, the return of the nanite Replicator project to Atlantis, the creation of advanced human bodies...
And on top of that, the limits of evolutionary development... This reminds me of the experiments of one villain from the Milky Way galaxy, who created a human as close to Ascension as possible so that his consciousness could inhabit it. And to become more than just human, to develop extrasensory abilities like telekinesis, telepathy, and the rest — the things a human gains when nearing Ascension — he had to undergo a special evolutionary treatment. Step by step.
Millions of years of evolution were skipped at the push of a button. And without that, the next stage of development wouldn't come. As far as I remember, to Ascend, you either need to be "pulled up" when you're already close to that state, or develop yourself until your brain evolves to the point where superpowers open up on their own...
Only that guy, the villain named Anubis, didn't manage to "get pulled up" with outside help. He was too evil a bastard who managed to Ascend at someone else's expense, but was stopped halfway by the Ascended. Because there's no place for assholes among the Ascended. Why? Because the Ascended assholes said so.
The more I learn about the Ancients, the more I start to understand that Ascension is by no means nirvana, nor a reward for hard work in physical life. Rather, it's an elite club of bastards. There's no room for the overly good or the overly evil.
But... What if the Lantians didn't want to wait millions of years to reach Ascension themselves? What if they found a way to accelerate their evolution by simply creating new bodies, more advanced than their current ones? And what if that method wasn't discovered by them, but by the Asurans, who experimented with nanomachines? Discovered it and decided to betray their fellow refugees from the Milky Way?
Do those who supposedly know that upon Ascension people become mere batteries forgive a betrayal? And that it's best to leave behind as many people as possible who will mention you in vain? And the more advanced they are, the more often they'll do it... After all, the more advanced they are, the more of your technology they have.
For example, the Stargates are always nearby and in plain sight. And who built them? The Ancients. Or the Ancestors. Say you want to send someone to another planet. Where do they go? "Go to the Ancestors' Ring." Or: "Wait for our friends at the Ancestors' Ring." Or "The settlement is a thousand steps from the Ancestors' Ring."..
Mentions at every turn. Energy at every turn. And the fewer who consume it, the more energy they have. What would matter in a war of annihilation: a million soldiers with rifles, or a dozen guys who can drop nuclear warheads on the enemy's head by sheer force of will?
That's why there aren't that many Ascended. And that's why no one will share energy among many.
As I recall, not all Ancients managed to Ascend. But even those who did were enough to conceal the Milky Way and Pegasus from the gaze of the numerous Ori... It's not about the number of participants, but the volumes of energy...
Now I'm starting to repeat myself. And Chaya said that I have a more developed brain than hers, and she herself would never figure it out, due to limitations in knowledge...
I broke into a sweat.
And what if the genetic alteration isn't just for reproduction, but to make the lesser races think only in a certain direction? There are drugs on Earth that can "program" a person. And not just drugs — NLP, the infamous "25th frame," hypnosis, after all...
"You know," I said as indifferently as possible, "we don't have enough data to ask questions and draw conclusions on insufficient facts. Such thoughts can lead to the Dark Side..."
Or to a last combat flight with all adherents.
The fact that thunder and lightning haven't struck us yet doesn't mean there won't be problems at all. Knowing the Ascended, they're unlikely to intervene directly unless it threatens them directly. But that doesn't mean they won't pull another dirty trick through indirect means.
And the Wraiths over our heads will be the least of our problems.
"True," Chaya agreed reluctantly. I hope she realizes I'm not going crazy, but walking on very thin ice. "Returning to the topic of the Efeyans' weapon. You said two things that led me to a thought about their connection."
"For example?" I asked with interest.
"The energy consumption that this evolution project would require, and the Efeyan weapon that works on the principle of disabling foreign technology. After all, the latter would need large energy reserves..."
"Suppose so, and?"
"What if the project used a ZPM that was supposed to be handed over to the Efeyans?" she asked. "Or to someone else?"
"That would be a big setup," I thought. "You sit there, expecting your weapon to protect you, and then it shuts down..."
"Or maybe it only works within a limited radius," Chaya said meaningfully.
Something familiar stirred in my memory.
Limited radius.
An almost depleted ZPM.
A technology that disables other technologies.
"Oh, you know," I sighed. "I'm not surprised by anything anymore. Do you have the gate address for Epheon?"
"I'll check the address database," Chaya said, getting up from the sofa. "I think we'll find what we're looking for. They weren't particularly fond of spreading out. So if there was a testing ground, it definitely wasn't on a remote planet. Either on Epheon itself, or on one of the worlds they visited. Fren knows them all for sure."
"Smells like a new mission," I said with a strained smile.
"And problems."
But I added that mentally.
* * *
Even at the higher planes of existence, when body and consciousness have become pure energy, it's quite difficult to abandon familiar images.
So no one was surprised anymore by the copy of Atlantis around them, distorted by the bright light streaming through stained glass windows. And everyone had long since grown accustomed to the fact that the Leader could easily be found in the copy of the Council Chamber.
Melia entered without any knock.
Sounds weren't really necessary here.
The Leader sat at the head of the table, staring straight ahead.
Despite the omniscience available to them, it was quite difficult to understand what he was thinking, or what any of the Ascended were thinking. Almost impossible, to be precise.
"I think you already know."
She wasn't asking; she was stating.
"As does everyone," his voice was calm, measured. Over millennia, that manic-attractive note that used to infect everyone with a storm of activity had disappeared from it.
"We should intervene." Melia took the empty seat at the end of the table.
"There's no need."
"Is that so?" Her thin eyebrow rose. "And I thought those two were saying very dangerous things."
"They're just words."
"Dangerous words lead to alarming actions."
The Leader looked at her.
"They're neither the first nor the last to circle around the truth. We've managed before, we'll manage now. Direct intervention is unacceptable."
"I'm talking about an unambiguous hint, a warning," Melia said. "His actions contradict what he promised us. No moves toward the Milky Way."
"I know."
"He doesn't intend to keep his promise!"
"And we didn't intend to keep ours," the Leader shrugged indifferently. "I think it's balanced."
"We must act!" Melia insisted. "They have Atlantis in their hands!"
"Whose capabilities they can't fully use."
"They're thinking too correctly!"
"All the better. Let them think they've found the truth we fear," said the Leader.
"You don't care what happens?" Melia was horrified. "Something threatens us!"
"The Something isn't spreading in the Milky Way," he reminded. "Its capacity for expansion is exhausted. Likely energy problems. So the situation is stabilized. We can attend to more important matters."
"A destabilizing factor in our city isn't important enough for you?"
A smile played on the Leader's face.
"Let the boy play detective," he said permissively. "Let him uncover a few old secrets. Convince himself that he's better than us. Let him make mistakes and play into our hands."
Melia was silent for a few... for a while. The latter didn't have the same meaning for the Ascended as for mortals.
"You're manipulating him," she realized. "Guiding him toward specific actions."
"And he thinks he figured it all out on his own," the Leader nodded. "The Something turned out not to be as dangerous as General Hippaforalkus thought. So we can pretend it doesn't interest us at all. Same with Mikhail and his pack of Dorandan natives. Let them gather crumbs, do all the dirty work, and think they're doing it of their own free will. When the time comes, it won't help them anyway."
"If you say so," Melia rose from the table. "Then I see no reason to object. However, it would be wise to calm Ganos. She's furious."
"And all because of that trifle?" the Leader seemed surprised.
"It's important to her," Melia noted.
"Really, she's overthinking it," a smile appeared on the Leader's face for the first time. "However," he grew serious, "you can remind her that she can always return to a physical body and solve all her problems personally. And then Ascend again. If she can manage it herself. No one will help her — that's no longer in favor in our community."
"I'll convey that," Melia assured. "It will calm her for a while."
"If she doesn't stop," a threat sounded in the Leader's voice, "I'll deal with her myself. No matter what. And she won't like the consequences."
"Should I convey that to her as well?"
"First and foremost."
"I will," Melia promised.