"Come on!"
"No!"
"It's so simple!"
"I said no! It's degrading!"
"What's degrading about being properly served by a young and beautiful girl?"
I rolled my eyes, opening my mouth to explain how immoral and ambiguous it was to say something like that… And at that moment, the spoon ended up in my mouth. Nothing to be done — I had to swallow the contents. Well, it didn't taste like dinosaur shit.
"See, and you were scared!" Fren's face lit up with genuine joy as she pulled out the spoon and scooped up a new portion of the porridge-like substance. "O-o-o-open wide, here comes a small Lantian ship loaded with tasty and healthy porridge…"
"I'd prefer an airplane," I sighed.
And got another load of "tasty and healthy."
Oh, for fuck's sake!
"Now…" Fren readied the spoon again. "Now we need to eat really fast. For Mommy, for Daddy, for all Wraiths to die…"
"Woman, are you sure you're taking care of me and not trying to kill me?" I asked. If she doesn't shove the spoon down my throat sideways, I'll definitely die of embarrassment. And what's the reason for all this? That I shouldn't have put myself in the path of a Wraith's claws and teeth! Not only does it ruin the body's integrity, but there are all kinds of bacteria in there too. Ugh, disgusting! Good thing that in this universe, tetanus shots can be replaced with radiation therapy. Long, tedious, draining…
"I'm not a woman," Fren said, tilting her head and pursing her lips.
"Give me an impulse blaster," came from the neighboring bed. "I'll shoot whoever says otherwise."
"What are you talking about?" Chaya's adopted daughter frowned.
"About the fact that humans have only two genders — male and female," Trebal said, her patience running thin. "And if you say you're not a woman, then you can only be a man. And I don't see anything dangling between your legs…"
"Trebal!" I cut off the Dorandan woman. "She's just a child!"
"I'm not a child!" Fren supported, puffing out her lips.
"Right, not a child," Trebal agreed. "A grown, attractive young woman who should have found herself a genetically suitable partner long ago and gotten down to the business of restoring the Ancient population."
"I'm not an incubator on legs!" Fren flared, jumping off the bed. Slamming the plate down on the bedside table, she glared at the woman angrily. "And don't fill my head with your eugenics! The Lantians practiced it, and they all died out! I want to live for myself!"
This time the child in a young woman's body stuck out her tongue and ran almost at full speed out of the infirmary. Good thing the doors in Atlantis weren't on hinges, or she would have slammed it so hard the plaster would have come off the concrete.
"Happy?" I asked Trebal.
"Yee-e-e-e-es," the Dorandan woman drawled with pleasure, sprawling on the bed with her hands behind her head, an undisguised smile on her face. "We've got about thirty minutes before she complains to Chaya. Then she'll come, drill me with a disapproving look, lecture me about how times have changed, and then leave too. And no one will bother us for the rest of the day."
"Good plan," I approved, glancing at the plate. My stomach treacherously growled. Not cream of wheat, of course, but I wanted to eat. And after radiation therapy, even moving hurt. "Only problem is — who's going to feed us?"
"Haven't you had enough of those little Lantian ships loaded with porridge?" Trebal laughed. "I'll have nightmares about them."
"Jumpers loaded with porridge aren't even a nightmare," I sighed. "But the Queen of Death…"
The smile vanished from Trebal's face. The girl grew serious, recalling the events of two days ago, and looked at me.
"Did you really crush her head with your bare hands?" she asked quietly.
"That's what they say," I recalled. "I don't remember anything after the hand-to-hand combat started… Just fragments… Strikes, faces contorting, everyone screaming at everyone… Like a fog."
"You know," Trebal said quietly, "there are techniques for restoring memory after traumatic psychological shock. If you want, I can tell you a few…"
"I don't want to," I replied dryly. "Alvar said it was all blood, brains, and bone fragments in there. I'm not sure I want to remember what happened in that corridor. I'm afraid I'll have nightmares about those episodes. On Earth, they call it a state of temporary insanity, I think. The psyche protects itself from what it's seen by blocking access to traumatic memories."
"Yes, there's such a protective reflex," Trebal agreed, staring at the ceiling. "I don't have that. I remember everything… Except when I was unconscious. And, you know, it was impressive."
"Thanks," I said dryly. "Can we change the subject?"
"You don't like hearing that you killed the Queen of Death?" Trebal asked in surprise.
"Let me remind you — I wasn't alone there."
"Yes," Trebal confirmed. "And she almost drained me… Like thousands of Lantians and other Ancients before me. If you had shot her, like I asked, you wouldn't be lying in a hospital bed."
"If I had shot her, as you asked — and I dare remind you — you most likely wouldn't be lying here either."
"Right," Trebal said quietly. "I wouldn't have survived even until we arrived at Atlantis. You saved me."
"And you saved me," I reminded her. "Consider us even."
Until now, we hadn't touched on this subject. First we spent a day unconscious while Celise fought for our lives. Then another half a day lying like vegetables under the medical scanner, which also served as an emitter… Strength only started coming back a few hours ago. And judging by how Trebal was acting and actively swinging her limbs, she was clearly recovering faster. I think Chaya said that Dorandans have better metabolism, and therefore regeneration, than most other races, including even Lantians.
"No, not even," Trebal said. Firmly, decisively, as if she had made a decision to go to war. "Your action…"
"You know, it's time to change the subject. I don't like all these pleasantries. Anyone would have done the same in such a situation."
And she was clearly stuck on the topic of the death she had experienced. Only God knew how many times we could have died fighting that fury.
"Yeah," Trebal smiled nervously. "Anyone. Of course."
Judging by her tone, she clearly thought the opposite. And I didn't like it either. Self-reflection didn't suit her. Bitchiness — yes, but not self-analysis. I'd regret this, of course, but… it was time to revive the bitch.
"It just occurred to me that you promised something when you were begging me to come to."
"What are you talking about?" the girl grew wary.
"Well, well," I smirked, sensing fertile ground for trolling. "Let me remember how it went?"
"Mikhail," Trebal's voice turned threatening.
"'Please, don't die, best of the best! Come on, open your eyes, magnificent man! I can't live without you! Wake up…'" I shamelessly distorted the actual words.
"You biomass!" a small pillow flew at me. "I didn't use those epithets! I called you an asshole!"
"You had hypothermia," I laughed. "And anyway. You said something else at the end… Actually, you didn't finish…"
Trebal paled. "It didn't happen!" she said quickly.
"Busted," I smirked. "I didn't say a word about what was said, and you're already denying it."
Trebal shot me a venomous glare. "You imagined it," she muttered.
"You know, it's pretty hard to mishear when a beautiful girl says 'I'll even blow…'"
"I'll sort!" Trebal blurted, not letting me finish the sentence the way it was supposed to go. In my opinion, of course. "I wanted to sort your…"
"Socks?" I suggested.
"Uniform!" Trebal muttered. "You live like a primitive human, throwing everything around!"
"I'm not throwing things around, I'm marking my territory," I clarified. "You know, some tribes on Earth build fences or place totems of the spirits they worship nearby. All so that villains don't cross their territorial boundaries."
"And how do scattered things relate to what you just said?" Trebal asked in bewilderment.
"My people are more advanced than primitive tribes that build totems," I explained. "We use things for that purpose."
The Dorandan woman frowned, processing the information.
"Is this a joke?" she asked after a few minutes of reflection.
"Two minutes and fifteen seconds," I calculated. "Kinda long for someone who considers herself quite smart."
Another pillow flew at me. Well, at least she definitely wasn't thinking about abstract matters anymore.
"Having fun?" Chaya inquired, entering the infirmary and picking up both of Trebal's pillows that were lying next to my bed. "Decided to set up a nest here?"
"Yeah, I decided to move closer so he could warm me up on a cold, dark night," the Dorandan woman snorted.
"Seems like he doesn't have that desire," Chaya continued to play on her nerves with the skill of a virtuoso violinist. "It's night now, quite dark, and you're all alone in your bed… Just like always, actually."
Judging by how Trebal growled, her verbal jab had hit its mark. Well, well… Chaya was really good at this! Trebal didn't know how to lose, but in a verbal duel between these two, the Proculucian was clearly the favorite.
"Celise said that by dawn you'll be on your feet," Chaya said, delicately sitting on the bed at my feet. "The treatment was successful, we just need to consolidate the result and suppress the last pathogens."
"Sounds great," I assessed, nodding toward Trebal, who was lying with her back to us. "Her too?"
"She's practically healthy even now," Chaya didn't even glance toward the Dorandan woman. "She just needs to rest. She doesn't need additional irradiation, unlike you."
"Good," I said happily. "Any news?"
Sar raised an eyebrow in surprise. "You think something new could happen in two days?" she asked.
"When you're at the helm — most likely," I admitted.
"Can't argue with that," Chaya sighed, stroking my leg under the blanket. "You know me too well…"
"But not from the inside, as you hope," came from the neighboring hospital bed. "Try coming to him at night without your primitive dresses. Most likely without them you'll have a better chance."
"Give it here," I reached for the pillow, but couldn't even move a couple of centimeters. My whole body ached as if they'd taken blood from a hundred veins from head to toe and then forgot to say "now bend like this and hold it while it heals." "Okay, never mind… You throw a pillow at her yourself."
"No," Chaya shook her head. "That would be an act of aggression. And she and I have something of a truce."
An indignant snort came from Trebal's direction. But she didn't say anything more.
"Is this some peculiarity of your communication?" I asked. "Talking in someone's presence while pretending they're not there?"
"Cultural difference," Chaya shrugged.
"More like uncultural," I corrected. "So, to our affairs. What about the mobile drilling platform?"
"Not counting the damage it sustained during the fight, the installation is in order," Chaya switched to a businesslike tone. "The shield is holding back the water coming through the breach, and Ihaar and the technicians have restored the damaged control systems. All system checks are complete, so soon we'll be feeding power from it to Atlantis."
"Can we repair the breach in the compartment?" I asked. The thought that only an ancient force field was keeping the ocean from flooding such a valuable installation didn't please me.
"In time," Chaya said. "The team of technicians Ihaar sent there is currently studying the blueprints and preparing a defect list. Thanks to the workshops on Taranis, we can manufacture hull parts to patch the breach, but if the damage goes deeper than the destroyed plating, then it's a problem. It's possible that we've lost this part of the platform as a docking bay."
Alright… No big deal, we have another one.
"Did you find that Jumper the Queen sent into the ocean? We don't have that many Jumpers to just discard them at the first need. And working ones are even fewer."
"Yes, but it's seriously damaged," Sar said. "We're still looking for the engines that tore off during launch, but there's no guarantee we can put them back and get the ship running again. For now, two other Jumpers are towing it to the lower bay at the North Pier. As soon as it's delivered, the technicians will inspect it more carefully and make a decision."
"Either restore it or scrap it for parts," I voiced the only prospects I could think of.
"Most likely the latter," Chaya sighed. "The ship was open, lying on the ocean floor for almost two days. Seawater doesn't do any favors for crystal-based technology."
"The EMI generator?"
"He's fine," Chaya said. "Except Ihaar made a few mistakes and the circuit burned out under prolonged voltage. We'll have to build a new one to get it running."
"Hmm... Are you sure you understand the meaning of the word 'fine'? Sounds like he's not fine at all."
"The power source is intact," Sar repeated. "And the EMI emitter... Fortunately, we don't need any rare metals to build a new one."
"That's something, I guess." From that point of view, the installation really was "fine." "The cruiser... The Queen didn't have time to activate the self-destruct, did she?"
"No, she didn't," Chaya confirmed. "But the organic power source wasn't in the best shape even before this. Your projectile finished it off for good. The hull and internal systems are in pretty decent condition. My generator is currently connected as an onboard power source. Teyla and a couple of technicians are working on the systems now. Surprisingly, the Wraiths managed to replicate the Lantean technology for recognizing a specific genetic signature. At their own level, of course. But it's impressive."
"Impressive?" I repeated. "Wait, are you saying you've never worked with Wraith technology before?"
"No," Trebal's voice came through. "The self-destruct systems aboard their ships and ours aren't just for show. They blew themselves up during the war to avoid capture. Hive ships, cruisers, shuttles, darts, soldiers, even queens — self-destruct systems everywhere."
"Then we need to find out what's in that communiqué the Aurora was carrying to Atlantis even more urgently," I decided, looking at Chaya. "Were you able to crack the encryption?"
"Unfortunately, no," she said, looking downcast. "Apparently, the data was intended exclusively for Moros, because it's encrypted using programs based on random and adaptive defense generation. Every intrusion attempt triggers appropriate countermeasures. And each time it gets harder to break through the protection. Only the correct password can disable them. Otherwise, the data will be destroyed."
"And Tribune Titus's code doesn't work?"
"That's exactly what caused the message to shift into a defense category: 'Try to crack me again and I'll self-destruct,'" Chaya explained. "We duplicated the message twice to work without fear of destroying the original... But that didn't help. And now the message has also added copy protection."
"Are you sure it's not an artificial intelligence?" I doubted.
"It's more like an advanced programming of onboard computers," Chaya said. "Either way, it's a dead end for now. Maybe we'll find the right passwords when we crack Moros's files... But that takes time. A lot of time."
"I see," I nodded. Another handleless suitcase. "But since we have an entire Wraith cruiser in our hands, we can learn a lot about their technology ourselves, can't we?"
"That's exactly why I ordered its study. Even if Teyla doesn't like being the only one who can activate key systems, the fact remains — without her onboard, there'll be no results."
"Can we lift the ship into orbit?" I asked. "A Wraith cruiser is quite a valuable thing, you know. Considering we only have one ship, and that one's in repair."
"It'll take a very powerful energy source to lift the starship off the seafloor," Chaya said after thinking for a couple of seconds. "It's two-thirds sunk into the silt. Either we'll have to clear it out, or give the cruiser enough energy to do it itself."
"How convenient that we have a drilling rig now, isn't it?" I chuckled. "Could it provide the needed energy if we power both the city and the ship from it?"
"Not for an orbital launch," Chaya warned. "But as an external power source during the work to study the ship and its systems... Yes, it's quite suitable."
"Speaking of systems," something clicked in my head. "The cruiser should be carrying darts, maybe scout ships, shuttles. Do we have any of those available?"
"A few darts," Chaya confirmed. "We're studying them... Each one has an analog of the dialing device from our jumpers, but gene recognition technology is absent. But that's clearly not what you meant, is it? Not studying?"
"Not just studying," I corrected. "Since the darts don't require the Wraith gene to activate and control... Then our people can fly them, can't they? Even if they're not Ancients."
"Are you serious?" Trebal, having stopped sulking like a little girl, turned to us. Her face was a mess of expressions — from bewilderment to irritation. And just a little bit of a desire to thoroughly thrash someone. "You want our people to fly Wraith darts?"
"I don't see anything wrong with that," I admitted. "We have jumpers, but they're not the fastest things in the small craft league. Not to mention the number of working ones just decreased by one, and there's no factory nearby to produce them."
"There were never any factories for producing technology," Trebal reminded me. "Everything needed was assembled by hand and..."
"That's what I'm talking about," I cut her off. "We don't have enough jumpers for open combat with the Wraith. And they can grow their ships like Athosians grow melons in a field. Plus, we have a limited supply of ammunition for the jumpers, the city, and the Hippaforalkus. We have nowhere to get new ones right now, as you yourself noticed. But the darts have energy cannons: all they need to fire is working mechanisms and a power source. Besides, we have wreckage of Ermen small craft. We can study them and maybe assemble our own version of fighters. Not as complex as the jumpers, but decent enough for space combat with Wraith darts. And to understand what vulnerabilities they have, we should study the fighters of our most dangerous enemy. Not that we're quarreling with the Wraith, but those guys will jump at our throats the moment they get a chance. Not to mention the Wraith are less aggressive toward the appearance of darts on their planets than jumpers. In the worst case, if the ship is shot down, the pilot can always spin a story about serving another hive, not Atlantis. Of course, if the pilot isn't an Ancient."
The girls exchanged glances.
Kill me, but I don't understand what's between them. One minute they're ready to tear out each other's internal organs, putting on a show of verbal dueling with sarcasm and attempts to outsmart one another.
But as soon as the conversation turns to something important, something that concerns all of us, they skillfully forget that just five minutes ago they were figuratively pulling each other's hair and are already communicating without words.
"There's logic in those words," Trebal admitted to my surprise. Chaya nodded in agreement. "Alvar used to be a pilot back home."
"He was the first one I thought of," I said. "Also, the darts have beams for collecting resources and rematerializing them. It's a handy tool to set up an ambush on the Wraith, beam them up without engaging, go through the gate, and drop them off where we'll be waiting on our terms. On Proculus, for example. Plus, in the events I know of, when rematerialized from darts, people would lose consciousness for a while. The Wraith, of course, don't, but... Ladies, seriously, I just generated an idea. How to use it, you should figure out. I'm all for using any resources we have. We're not in a position to wrinkle our noses and say, 'We have technology the enemy has no analogue of, so we'll build a fleet of super-battleships and give them a thrashing.'"
"But Lantean technology in our hands really does surpass everything in this galaxy," Chaya said. Catching my gaze, she gave a guilty smile. "But what difference does it make how much better we are technologically if we don't have enough of it, right?"
"Not to mention that we can't reproduce all Lantean technology," Trebal sighed, leaning back on the cot. "And why do I get the feeling, Sar, that this particular man isn't as simple as he seems? I'd bet he didn't so much want to get the Wraith cruiser, or kill the Queen of Death, or even acquire the power source, but rather the Wraith darts."
The Proculucian looked at me with a slight squint.
"You know, I had the same thought," she said. "His reasoning sounds like he's thought it all through a long time ago."
"Guilty as charged," I confessed. "Teyla said the Genii are in conflict with those who supposedly break trade agreements with them. And then suddenly punishers appear on those guys' planets. And recently they made a claim against the Athosians."
The fact that on New Athos, using Lantean technology, they managed to cultivate and get a better version of the tava beans the Genii trade in didn't make the Athosians bad people. After all, it's just competition. The problem was that the Genii don't intend to compete with anyone.
Having grabbed information from Ermen, they clearly believed in themselves and decided that since the Wraith aren't so active right now, it would be a good time to strengthen their positions. Dominate, not cooperate. Conquer or intimidate — from their point of view, it doesn't much matter.
And if I'm being completely honest with myself, the Genii's actions aren't that different from what happens on Earth. The strong devour the weak or turn them into satellites.
The Ancients aren't exactly models of righteous behavior either, and... Let's be honest. Humans are the fruit of the Ancients' labor. Created in their image and likeness, so it's no wonder that all the crap they could pass on to their descendants shows itself.
That's human nature, I guess. Or maybe we're all primitive enough not to know how to solve our problems with our brains. Why have long conversations when you can shorten the time and get what you want with weapons and eliminating competitors?
We're all assholes. Athosians, Genii, Ancients, Lantians. Wraith, Asurans, Ori, and everyone else. Each one is an asshole in their own way and at their own level of development.
"Smells like a plan," Trebal snorted. "Let me guess — you want to lure a Genii punitive force to Athos, make it look like the Wraith collected them, then drop them off on Proculus and let Koschei feed?"
"And thereby give him more power to resurrect even more Ancients," Chaya added.
"It's a working theory," I admitted. "We lost one technician and fifteen Athosian soldiers in a battle with just one Queen. On our own territory, no less. We also lost a working jumper, and the platform is damaged and needs repairs. Only the technicians can do that."
"And we can't trust the Athosians," Trebal added. "Who knows why they decided to break the plan and go kill Death? Even though it was already planned. But... No, sorry, in what galaxy did they decide they could do it better than us?"
"I have a few unverifiable theories," the Proculucian said quietly.
"Yeah, and I have a few," I admitted. "Considering that only one Athosian out of all we saw was taken under Death's control, I seriously doubt she brainwashed all of them."
"The suppression gear works," Trebal added. "Even though she couldn't break us with her mental attack, I felt the pressure on my brain. She could predict some of my strikes... Whether it was due to her mental power or I was just predictable, we'll never know."
"We need to talk to Teyla," I decided. "If her people suddenly decided to rebel and thought that with the weapons and technology we gave them they're now top dog and have the right to bathe in fountains on August the Second, then either we remind them: what we gave, we can take away, or we say goodbye and find food suppliers among more reasonable folks."
"We could relocate the people from Epheon to the continent," Chaya suggested. "Those who want to, of course. But on Lantea, they'll be fine. The long-range sensors will let us spot most dangers in time."
"Or to Taranis," Trebal suggested. "The planet is big; it has plenty of land the Taranians don't use. In case of danger, we can always raise the shield."
"Plenty of options," I summed up. "But we all agree that the Athosians aren't as good soldiers as we thought. Maybe they can defend their own world properly, but we can no longer rely on them for offense."
"Nor rely solely on them for food supplies," Trebal said. "I'd suggest increasing agricultural assistance to the children and the Taranians."
"There aren't enough of them to feed everyone," Chaya noted. "It takes a lot of time to clear fields, plant seeds, tend the harvest. Finally harvest it."
"Then we need to start as soon as possible, don't we?" Trebal snorted. "For now, we can avoid telling the Athosians that we're displeased enough to cut all ties, but... Even if we eliminate the cause of those fifteen's rebellion, even if the rest are innocent, it's better to anticipate the possibility that they might one day turn against us."
"Fully agree," I said. "You know... I recalled an episode. Somewhere in the city there's a laboratory where the Ancients observed developing civilizations. Using observation satellites in orbit, they saw everything happening on the planets, then gave instructions through their equipment..."
"Typical monitoring of potential minor races," Trebal shrugged. "The Lantians did it for millennia. When observation was no longer needed and the race had developed, they removed the satellites from orbit."
"Except I don't recall them helping anyone develop," Chaya squinted. "Never up to the level of contact. Are you sure about what you're saying, Mikhail?"
"Completely," I confirmed. "You know, my memory gets better every day. I recall many things quite vividly that I barely ever remembered well. For example," I nodded toward Trebal, which Chaya ignored as if she didn't notice, "how to give a drowning person mouth-to-mouth."
"Well, well," the Dorandan said slyly. "And I thought you decided to take advantage of my still-warm body and touch it... Sar, do you know he groped me and kissed me when I was drowning?"
"For the first forty minutes after brain death, a woman is still warm," the Proculucian remarked innocently. "So I don't see anything objectionable in it. Although, in your place, I'd wonder why he comes to my bed at night and when I'm alive, but shows you attention only when you're dying. I don't think it's a paraphilia..."
"Get lost," I cut off another round of sparring. "Your innuendoes are no longer funny."
"Innuendoes?" Trebal was surprised. Chaya also looked a bit confused. "Misha, we're flirting, actually. Although, you're primitive, so you wouldn't understand... Chaya... Is he trying to get away, that thing I'm thinking?"
"Yes," Sar sighed sadly. "He wants to run away from us."
"Naive," Trebal laughed. "No way, Misha. You saved the girls — now take responsibility for us. And anyway, Sar, grab him! To hell with social conventions, it's time to restore the population!"
Chaya put a palm to her face.
"Oh, atomic bonds, tell me you're joking. Trebal, that's low and immoral!"
"Sar, unlike you, I was almost sucked dry by a Wraith! I lay in stasis for ten thousand years, absorbed Wraith enzyme twice! And finally, we have a duty to restore the Ancient race," Trebal laughed as she slowly climbed off the bed. She might have more strength than me, but not enough to make everything happen very fast.
"Don't drag me into your sadomasochistic games!" I yelled, struggling to move even an arm. "Your thoughts are criminally punishable, you crazy psychos!"
"Why are you shouting?" asked Selys, appearing in the infirmary. "Mikhail, you can be heard on the whole floor."
"I need a private room!" I demanded. "And some grenades for booby traps!"