Still, Atlantis has its drawbacks.
For example, the lack of bathrobes in my size. Apparently, there were no broad-shouldered beings among the Lanteans, so their standard bath accessories fit me "tight." I don't like that.
But the towels are good — enough to cover my modesty by wrapping myself properly. A small breath of air from the past, a feeling of at least some normality and familiar understanding of cause-and-effect relationships.
Because around me, there's a real madhouse.
The shower door slid aside. Another couple of minutes to get myself in order and I could...
I stopped in front of the chair where my clothes lay neatly folded. You could even say "perfectly" folded. Even the impulse blaster looked polished. And judging by the indicator, it was fully charged. Even though I was just about to change the power cell.
"Don't thank me," a voice came from behind. Judging by the sound, it came from the direction of the entrance door.
Turning around, I saw the one I least expected to find in my quarters.
"I see you've changed clothes," I assessed her change of attire.
"I'm more comfortable in the Lantean uniform," Trebal admitted. "But it needs washing. And, as it happens, while helping in the engine room of the Hippaforalkus, I miscalculated the pressure of the lubricating materials, which have a tendency to..."
"That's called 'getting dirty,'" I corrected.
Dressed in a short dark jacket made of a leather-like material, fitted trousers hugging her hips, a turquoise sleeveless top — judging by the style, the commander of a battle cruiser looked more like an ordinary girl you might meet on Earth.
Except for the thigh holster with an impulse blaster on one side and a second one with a stun weapon on the other, which somewhat spoiled the image of a girl from the neighborhood.
A simple decoration of a couple of chains and a turquoise stone in a golden setting drew attention to the décolletage area.
Pink lipstick on her lips and the ever-present large curls of loose hair.
"I don't have a problem with vocabulary," Trebal said. "I just decided to explain the reason for changing my outfit. After all, an officer must adhere to the established uniform while on duty. And, even though my ship isn't flying yet, I still have to fulfill my command duties."
"Or you just thought I'd find it interesting," I chuckled, sitting on the edge of the work table. "Girls covered head to toe in machine oil is clearly some kind of mechanic fetish."
Officer Trebal.
"Probably," the girl shrugged. "I'm not interested in various kinds of deviations."
"I can argue with that," I said, crossing my arms. "So, what brings you to my apartment? But better start with how you got in here."
"You gave me the code yourself," she reminded me, hiding her hands behind her back and not taking a single step from the door frame. "Or have you already forgotten?"
"I thought you said it wasn't working."
"Yes, but then I remembered the trick for unlocking blocked doors," the owner of light-emerald eyes raised an eyebrow. "Take out the crystal, swap them, short-circuit..."
"So, you're inside. What next?" I asked.
"I wanted to see how our esteemed leader lives," a crooked smirk appeared on her face as she looked at the made but rumpled bed. White sheets, a white airy blanket, thin, but not hot under it. And a crumpled gray coverlet lying on the floor nearby. "You know, I'm kind of disappointed."
"That's male order," I explained, pointing at the folded clothes. "Someone who folds clothes 'seam to seam' and feels uncomfortable out of uniform wouldn't understand."
"Well, at least I didn't see any long hair on the bedding," Trebal smirked.
"And should there be?" I asked.
"It was assumed there would be," Trebal raised an eyebrow. "Black-brown or rich brown."
If you think about it, she's talking about Chaya and Teyla respectively.
"On Earth, we call that 'chestnut,'" I explained.
"And among the lesser races, it's not customary to invent names and use generally accepted colors," Trebal said. "Are you going to get dressed, or are you not going to the meeting?"
Ah, so that's it... Well, two can play this game.
"Since when do you care about that?" I asked, looking into her eyes and removing the towel. Reaching out, I took the T-shirt, put my arms through it, pulled it over my head...
By the time my hair emerged from the neckline, I noticed her slightly bitten lower lip returning to its normal state, and the light emerald rising a couple of degrees higher.
"I have nothing to occupy myself with," she said quickly. "The ship is still under repair, the system debugging can be handled without me. And you go to other planets, and, as I understand it, you didn't just show up on the planet of children for no reason."
"Planet of children?" I repeated, finishing with my underwear. "Who gave it that name?"
"Children live there," Trebal made a face, as if I'd asked something obvious. "What else would you call it?"
"Epheon," I reminded her. "I don't think our new allies would appreciate us calling them inhabitants of the planet of children."
"And here's what I don't understand," Trebal watched as I dressed. "You knew that there was a ZPM on that planet, didn't you?"
"Let's say I did."
"You knew it wasn't a big deal for us because it was deeply discharged."
"Correct."
"You knew they were killing each other there."
"Exactly."
"And you know that these kids haven't even learned how to properly work metal yet."
"Not a single mistake so far," I confirmed, putting my feet into my boots. "So what's the question?"
"Why did you go there?" she asked. "Clearly not to help those little ones. And definitely not for the ZPM. The device is useless to us too — it jams our own systems. So... why?"
"Are you sure you're not from a primitive race?" I clarified.
"Do you want me to provide a medical form of genetic development for your perusal?" Trebal squinted.
"No, thanks," I grimaced. "I'm already shuddering at the thought that such a thing even exists."
"And how else would you arrange inter-gender unions?" Trebal said in surprise. "The certificate allows you to predict possible genetic hereditary problems in advance and the level of genetic perfection of the offspring..."
"On Earth, there once lived an artist who would have really liked that idea."
"A progressive man, apparently."
"Some think so. But in reality, he started a world war that killed tens of millions of innocent people. Men, women, the elderly, children... And that's not even mentioning the inhuman experiments in concentration camps, the murder of people accused of being 'inferior,' the mass killings using chemical warfare agents..."
With every word I said, Trebal's face twisted more and more.
"And you're sure you're our descendants?" she asked. "You act like animals. Maybe even worse. What about science, space exploration, other planets?"
"Do you want me to tell you about social networks? Or about flushable toilet paper tubes?"
"I don't know what that is, but it sounds disgusting," Trebal admitted. "I mean social networks."
"Any invention, even one created with the best intentions, can be turned into something obscene if you let human vices and stupidity take center stage," I shared my wisdom. "That's how 'Vstagram' came about, actually."
"Let's get back to talking about the planet of children?" Trebal suggested, the playful note gone from her voice. "The more you talk about your world, the more caustic satire I hear in your words."
"You're right, I needed the blueprints for the electromagnetic generator," I switched gears easily. "And precisely because it can jam even our systems. I was, of course, glad that it only does that to Wraith technology, which means it can be programmed for a specific technology, but, as it turned out, not everything is so sweet."
"It's better to have the ability to jam any technology than not to be able to turn off any," Trebal understood. "Clever. Very clever."
"That's us primitive peoples for you. No knowledge, we get by on cunning and treachery."
The girl rolled her eyes.
"Can you please stop reminding me of that? I stopped using that combination of words when I realized it sounds offensive to races at your level of development..."
"There you go again," I smiled.
I wonder if she'd have a heart attack or a stroke if I told her about the Nazi-eugenics direction of the "Lesser Races" project? Though, I suspect Trebal is quite intelligent and emotionally stable.
It's impossible that, having such a father, she wouldn't have suspected something about what goes on in Ancient society.
"You know," the emerald eyes flashed unkindly. "I really am trying to adapt to the new reality."
"I understand you perfectly."
"No, you don't!" Trebal squinted.
"I understand perfectly well," I said, barely restraining myself.
"And what's so funny about that?"
"When we get to Earth, I'll definitely tell you."
"Oh, so we're going to Earth?" Trebal was surprised.
"Someday," I promised. "But first, we need to properly refine the technology for suppressing foreign technologies."
"That's why I'm here," Trebal admitted. "Remember you said we could feed the Wraith not with people, even enemies, but with Wraith?"
"I remember saying that. I don't remember saying it to you."
"How do you think my day goes?" the girl crossed her arms.
"Well..." I pretended to think. "You wake up, get dressed, twirl your signature curls, drink a liter of 'Ostervina-extra,' and go ruin the blood of people who never did anything to you. Did I guess right?"
"That's before lunch," Trebal nodded. "And after that, I also spend time studying various data, checking the work on the Hippaforalkus, reviewing the modernization program data, figuring out what we can implement manually. And I also talk to your beloved. As it happens, we have to communicate on duty and... And what is that gesture supposed to mean?"
I looked at my hand held out in front of me.
"Stop," I had to explain. "Let's clear something up. Because it looks like you're bursting with jealousy."
"You're imagining things," she declared.
"Let's say I am," I replied condescendingly. "But it's better than leaving things unsaid. I don't know the reason why you're making these scenes for me and trying to write someone off as my love interest, but you're wrong. I have nothing but friendly and working relationships with anyone, including you."
"Feel better now?" Trebal asked in a pointedly indifferent tone. "Well, great, then let's get back to work. I'd like to participate in ground operations. I have good infantry training, I'm trained in shooting and hand-to-hand combat techniques..."
I look at her, listen to what and how she says it, and I can't figure out: is she really just using these ostentatious moments of jealousy to get on my nerves? Seems like it.
Or maybe she's a bit of a psychopath.
"And what makes you think we have such an operation planned in the near future?" I asked.
"If not, that's a shame," she blurted out. "We have very suitable conditions. Wraith Trackers — for finding fugitives and tracking Ancients. We have technology that will block energy-based technologies. Which means that weapons, devices, and even the self-destruct system that enemy soldiers have will stop working. Not to mention that their 'darts' won't be able to provide air support. But at the same time, we have firearms that should work in the suppression zone. What's the conclusion? Right, we can set up a trap, lure the Wraith to one or two places, and when they arrive, activate the EMP generator, which will deprive them of the ability to harm us. But not deprive us of combat capability."
The girl wiggled her eyebrows.
"Not bad for a fleet officer, wouldn't you say?"
"Not bad," I agreed, walking toward the exit. "How about using this suppressor on the Wraith cruiser sunk on Lantea? We find the queen, don't let her blow up the ship, kill the queen. By the way, her name is Death. And she's the one behind the attack of all the Wraith on Atlantis ten thousand years ago. And if the Wraith come, she won't be able to contact them and return to her people. That would give us an advantage if the Wraith, while we're languishing at the bottom of the sea, decide to get rid of us. At least they won't have a common and authoritative leader."
Trebal stared at me for a couple of seconds.
"Alright," she said. "Your option sounds much more pragmatic. First, we get rid of the queen, then we deal with the Wraith according to my plan. Deal?"
"Are you that bored?"
"A little more, and I'll figure out another way to make your life unbearable. Because, apparently, you gave me the position of commander of a ship that won't fly for a very long time. I think you planned this in advance, as a way to show me not only that I'm a valuable asset, but also your headache." Not that I planned it in advance, but I did during the process. But she doesn't need to know that. "And that pisses me off a lot."
"How much?"
"So much that I decided to break into your room, swallow my pride, and offer to keep you company in a firefight," Trebal forced a smile. "Any kind."
"You're really desperate," I assessed, running my hand over the door control panel. "So it wasn't all for nothing."
"You sure know how to please a girl who's been in stasis for ten thousand years," Trebal smirked. "Oh, how awkward..."
"Are you done?" Chaya, standing in front of me, asked. "The meeting was supposed to start five minutes ago. And neither of you were there..."
"We were busy with something very serious, Sar," Trebal sidled past me. And she even managed to peck me on the cheek. "Thanks for helping satisfy my insatiable desire for action. We should meet more often."
"Anytime," I promised.
"I can come back later," Chaya offered. "I wouldn't want to interrupt you at the most interesting part."
"Oh, we're already done with our business," Trebal assured her, grinning impudently at Chaya. "By the way, I recommend admiring him without clothes, if he allows it. A very beautiful and harmoniously developed body. Primitive instincts just howl at the sight of him after a shower."
"Thanks for the advice," the Proculucian forced out. "I know."
The smile on Trebal's face faded. Apparently, she doesn't know that Chaya was pumping me out and changing my clothes in the med bay when I almost drowned.
Without a word, the Dorandian turned on her heels and walked away. I, along with Chaya, watched Trebal stride off briskly, swaying her hips.
"You do understand that it's just a play on words?" I clarified.
"You do understand how stupid it sounds to make excuses to one woman because another is projecting her wishes onto reality?" Chaya tilted her head. "I'm completely indifferent to her games with my nerves. It's even somewhat amusing. And it also motivates her to work better. A result from opposition."
I closed my eyes and exhaled.
"She thinks she's getting to you with these double entendres, and you let her do it because it makes her feel more confident and productive?" Better to clarify than to assume in such a serious game of minds.
"I'm a scientist," Chaya reminded me as we walked toward the transport booth. "Setting up a self-sufficient dual-circuit energy generation system is no harder for me than enriching Naquadah. You just keep doing what you're doing. Your embarrassment gives me the strength to maintain this system further."
"I shudder to think what you'll do when you get tired of it," I chuckled, putting my arm around Chaya's shoulders and pulling her close.
"I'm a scientist," the girl repeated. "If I can't handle my emotions, I'll blow up a planet."
"So, we can joke about that now?"
"I can. I'm supposed to be the injured party in all this, after all. By the way," Chaya looked at me. "If you don't mind helping me provoke her, we could leave one of my dresses in your room. Next time, her mood will definitely be ruined by the picture she'll imagine."
"You're scaring me. Plans in the style of Dr. Evil are way beyond the bounds of morality," I said.
"So... tonight?"
"We need to figure out where to send her so she can imagine plenty of spicy pictures," the plan continued to grow in detail.
"Or we could just go have dinner with a view of the city," Chaya suggested innocently. "The main thing is to turn off the radios... for fifteen to thirty minutes."
"For a couple of hours," I protested. "Don't underestimate me!"
"I'm a physicist, not a physiologist," Chaya tried to justify herself.
* * *
"So, that's the plan," I summed up.
"We arrive, land, turn on the EMP generator, de-power the Wraith cruiser, find the queen, blow her brains out," Alvar said. "Is that a plan or a brief list of bullet points?"
"Short and to the point," Kirik objected. "I like it. I'm in."
"Same here," Trebal said.
"I'll join too," Teyla echoed.
"You'll need a scientist to deal with the cruiser's technology," Chaya said.
"Agreed," I nodded. "Anything can happen, so we'll need a brainy specialist."
"Therefore..." the Proculucian began.
"With all due respect, Sar," Trebal interrupted her, "you'd better stay on Atlantis. You know Lantean and other technologies best, so if we need help, you can handle it."
"I appreciate the offer, but I wasn't proposing myself for that," Chaya replied calmly. "The strike team needs someone who knows more than a technician. Ihaar is the best fit. He knows quite a lot, has a good grasp of technology."
"Brilliant," the named Ancient grumbled. "I'm smarter than a technician, but less valuable than a scientist. I always wanted to know how people evaluate me, and here it is, the recognition."
"And you're also our secret weapon," Alvar chuckled. "If something happens, you'll just talk her to death."
"Very funny," Ihaar mimicked. "Now, as a member of the suicide strike team, may I speak?"
"I see no reason to object," I agreed.
"Then let's go straight to the weak points of your plan," the engineer said in a tone that brooked no contradiction. "First — just because I have schematics for a device doesn't mean I even have a prototype. It takes time to develop one. That's point one. Second — this ship has lain on the ocean floor for ten thousand years and hasn't flown. Consequently, it may have serious damage that the ship has only been holding back with its power systems. We turn off the generator, we turn those off too. The ship could sink while we're running through dark corridors looking for the Wraith queen. Third. Let's say I somehow manage to assemble a device that will jam systems throughout an entire Wraith cruiser. Let's say I even find a suitable power source. How do you intend to get out of there? Because if you fly in on a jumper and turn on the EMP generator, you won't be able to turn it off to check if she's triggered the self-destruct. What's more, the jumper will also be inside the technology suppression field, and we won't be able to escape. As a result, we'll all end up on the seafloor on an old organic vessel, not knowing if we'll explode when we turn the device off... The plan sucks."
"Because it's only the general outline," I chuckled. "In practice... Ihaar, suppose you can assemble the device, an EMP generator to suppress any technology aboard the Wraith cruiser. Would the reactor that Chaya built suit you for power?"
"It would, but it won't put out much energy for a large sphere of coverage." The Wraith cruiser is about a kilometer long and about five hundred meters wide. To guarantee the device works in any part of the ship, I need to create a field with a radius of a kilometer. Then, wherever we enter — bow, stern, sides — it'll be in the suppression zone. I'm afraid this will require the superreactor we installed on the Hippaforalkus."
"What kind of field can Chaya's reactor produce?" I inquired.
"About half that, or thereabouts," Ihaar replied after a moment's thought.
"So if we place it roughly in the center of the ship, the entire ship will be in the suppression field plus or minus?" I asked.
"Yes, but... We'll be detected before we reach the center of the ship," Ihaar warned.
A good warning, but fundamentally incorrect.
"Can the EMP generator block the queen's mental ability to detect us?"
"No, not at all."
Wonderful.
"Will the mental ability suppressor cause her problems in influencing us?" I asked Chaya.
"Yes, but I can't guarantee that will be enough to neutralize her completely," she said. "We don't know the capabilities of this particular queen, and the tests were conducted on a Wraith commander."
"That's quite enough," I assured her. "Ihaar, build a device that can be powered by Chaya's generator. Also, add a timer mechanism. So we can set the duration the EMP generator will operate, and then it will shut off by itself."
"And then everything will turn back on," Ihaar warned. "Including the self-destruct system you warned about."
"Only if we let her activate it," I smiled.
The others exchanged glances.
"It seems the plan to attack the queen's cruiser isn't quite as simple as it looks," Trebal said, squinting at me.
"In general terms," I confirmed. "And in specifics, here's what we'll do..."