"Figured it out long ago?" I asked Chaya.
"Almost immediately, the moment you said it was easier to connect to people," Sars replied. "I remembered how we interrogated Tyrus, that other Genii spy on Proculus, Chancellor Leikos. I thought, 'If he agrees that Koschei needs to be dealt with, then he must have some other plan for interrogating prisoners.' And, as we know, Jensen's fists didn't beat anything worthwhile out of Tyrus. We probably won't get anything worthwhile from prisoners, at least from the Genii, in the future either. And then, an interesting option appears — to get right into their head…"
I raised my hands up.
"You caught me," there was no point in denying it. "Yes, I'm that kind of bad person. I saw an opportunity, decided to take it."
"Just like with the cyborg," Chaya said with a heavy sigh, closing her eyes. She was silent for a few seconds, then spoke:
"You do realize that because of her people's actions, Teyla would never refuse such experiments?"
"Unpleasant, but a fact," I agreed. "It's vile to exploit her guilt, but… You must understand yourself — we're in a vulnerable position. There are few of us, we only have one ZPM, the ship won't withstand a serious fight… If we have prisoners who need to be interrogated quickly, she's the best candidate."
"There are other Athosians with a similar gift," Chaya noted.
"There are," I agreed. "Like Teyla's husband, Canon."
"Kanaan," the Proculucian corrected me. "And he's not her husband."
"Really?" I was surprised. "On the Aurora, he was so jealous, so jealous… They're together, aren't they?"
"They're lovers," Sars explained. "People united by shared grief, who found comfort in each other. She lost her family, he did too. She has Wraith DNA and the ability to sense them," the girl paused for a moment in thought. "Kanaan, according to Teyla, can do the same. Wouldn't it be better to use the man for such actions?"
"A brewer-interrogator?" I chuckled. "Yeah, that's something new in our crazy galaxy. And yes, if he agrees, then why not. Only, I'm sure Teyla would handle it better."
"Why?"
"She's a woman."
Chaya massaged her temples.
"Some young races, the Dorandans for example, had a rather unhealthy idea about equality between men and women," she said slowly. "The theory was that men and women could do the same job with equal efficiency."
"Yeah, Earth has those crazies too," I confirmed. "Only I haven't heard about brigades of female miners, steelworkers, road workers… Office clerks, lawyers, managers — in droves. But where physical strength and endurance gifted by evolution specifically to the male sex is needed, women are rare. And it does them credit, by the way. Ambition, respect, and all that…"
"That's why Trebal went into the military fleet," Chaya added. "Although the military profession in the Lantean Confederation was predominantly male. But times were hard, there was a war…"
"Wraith Queens are stronger than male commanders," I interrupted her. "My theory is that Teyla could potentially be as strong as a Wraith Queen. But Kanaan…"
"I understand you," Sars sighed again. "I support your idea, but I disagree with it."
"Sounds like you want to hit me with cognitive dissonance," a hint of a smile appeared on my lips.
"I understand the necessity of such a procedure and having such a person among us," Chaya said slowly. "But I don't like that we'll be using Teyla without her knowledge. You know very well what such 'secret intentions' lead to."
"I know," I nodded. "That's why I'm going to talk to her about it. In private. And I don't know how to do it yet, given the guilt she feels for her people and their actions on the platform. Yes, using her is a vile idea, but a practical one."
"Glad you realize not all means are good," Chaya gave an awkward smile, as if embarrassed. "Otherwise we'd be no better than the Lanteans when it comes to using monstrous means to solve problems."
"Well, I haven't decided to blow up planets for resources yet. And besides, that's your favorite topic, isn't it."
Chaya looked at me with mock severity.
"Misha, it's not time for such jokes yet."
I leaned forward and winked at her.
"But with every joke, we get closer to working through your psychological trauma and getting past it. Isn't that right?"
"You spend too much time on my inner world," Chaya shook her head. "People are already whispering…"
"I don't give a damn," I spread my arms. "I was given good advice recently — don't hold on to a past I can't reclaim without making the present worse. So… How about dinner?"
A blush appeared on Sars' dusky cheeks.
"Huh… Strange are your works, genetics."
"It's not even noon yet," Chaya looked away. "And… the technicians have connected the power from the Bore Rock to the Wraith cruiser, so my generator isn't needed there. We'll soon power up Atlantis too. Since you're free anyway, maybe you could deliver the generator to the satellite?"
"Of course," I confirmed. "But first, tell me. Do we have any recordings from the site of the Queen of Death's demise?"
"The techniques removed a hologram of the entire corridor," Chaya said, frowning. "But... why would you need that?"
"I was thinking our life-sucker here isn't exactly eager to cooperate with us... Maybe we should show him an instructional video, hmm?"
* * *
The laboratory doors slid open behind her.
But even before the panels had fully recessed into the walls, without even looking up from the device she was assembling, she noticed the figure standing before her.
"Dinner?" came the caustic comment. "Seriously?"
Chaya closed her eyes, took a few deep breaths, trying to calm herself. Then she fixed a polite smile on her face and looked at the uninvited guest.
"Shouldn't you be reviewing military databases?" she inquired delicately.
"Don't change the subject, Sar," Trebal said, a threat in her voice. "You might as well have ordered wine from Athos!"
"As a matter of fact, I did," the Proculucian said calmly, taking a seat. With a gesture inviting the newcomer to do the same, she reacted placidly to her interlocutor ignoring it. "Just not that thermonuclear stuff that turns people into biomass. Turns out they have drinks that don't resemble moonshine, too."
"Decided to get him drunk and drag him into bed?" Trebal's eyes flashed with menace. "How low you've sunk. Though what am I saying? Chaya Sar has never passed up the chance to find herself a powerful patron!"
"I ordered the wine almost immediately after I returned to Atlantis at Misha's request," Chaya explained. "He promised the Tribune that a toast would be raised for the Aurora. And he wants to do it when the whole crew is conscious again. He says it's the right thing to do."
"And how long has he been sharing all his plans with you?"
"Not all," Sar corrected. "Only those that fall within my competence. Whatever you may have imagined, I am not his chosen one. I'm merely something like the governor and chief scientific officer of Atlantis. Nothing more."
"And the dinner you asked to be prepared is nothing more than a working meeting?" Trebal sneered. "Don't take me for a fool, Sar. Unlike the others, I see right through you."
"If that were really true, I'd probably have hacked your apartment's security system and embedded a small piece of enriched Naquadah with a detonator into your bed," Chaya smiled. "Since, in your opinion, that would be more my style, wouldn't it?"
"Thanks for the tip," Trebal said with a tight smile. "I'll search my bed."
The Proculucian sighed heavily.
"You still can't forgive me," she realized.
"You killed everyone on Dorandan," Trebal cut her off. "And there's not much difference between doing it of your own free will or being ordered to push the button!"
"I pushed it only because they pushed me," Chaya said. "And made it unmistakably clear that my people would be left without protection against the Wraith. Would you have acted differently? To protect your own people?"
"Differently," Trebal assured her. "And that's exactly what I'm doing. To protect all the remaining Dorandans. Are you stupid enough not to understand that? If so, you disappoint me."
"I understand perfectly well," Chaya looked away. "You hold the highest position among the survivors from Dorandan. And if you become Mikhail's chosen one, your people will be guaranteed the status of a title nation in the new society. Pragmatic, Trebal. Frankly, I expected nothing less from you."
"Then stay out of it," the woman opposite her snarled. "And remember more often that I'm doing this because of what you did!"
"And not because you find him attractive?" Chaya clarified. "Just a calculation for the future?"
"Unlike you, I don't let someone I feel nothing for but a desire to use touch me," Trebal snorted. "But I am responsible for my people! And I do what I must."
"Must for whom?" Chaya asked. "We're all in the same position here, actually. And all we must do is survive, not let ourselves be killed."
"Try using your head for a change, if your synapses aren't too busy plotting against me," Trebal narrowed her eyes. "Misha is a Lantian. Probably the only survivor left in the galaxy. We're not counting the Ascended. As long as he's here, all of this," she gestured around the laboratory, but clearly meant much more, "works as it should. How long will he live? A year? A hundred years? Two hundred? I don't know, given his genetic difference from other Lantians, but I hope as long as possible. But he's too strongly connected to his own universe. And perhaps one day he'll leave, saddling us all with problems we can't solve with our level of Ancient genes. Maybe in a million years or two we'll become as developed as the Lantians. Maybe we'll be able to improve genetic therapy and evolve faster. But do we have the time? I think not. Which means we need to act here, now, and fast. He and I both have Lantian genes. So our children will get enhanced DNA. And children come faster than evolution or the development of evolutionary genetic therapy. So his children and mine — that's our chance not to be left with nothing when he goes back to his universe."
"All his children," Chaya corrected.
"Yes, but you don't have Lantian genes, which means your children will be weaker than mine," Trebal argued. "As will the children of any other Ancient women still in stasis or already awakened. Including if he mates with your darling Fren. But," the Dorandan raised a finger to emphasize her words, "we know that somewhere out there," she waved her hand vaguely, "the Tria is out there. And that bitch Helia! Misha said they're moving at near-lightspeed toward Earth, somewhere between our galaxies right now. And if we try really, really hard, instead of relying on luck, they can be found. The entire crew — slightly older, but definitely combat-capable. And they don't need to be revived, unlike the people from the Aurora. That gives Helia an advantage! If you've forgotten, she is a Lantian! And her crew are Ytranci! Come on, work those neurons, Sar, I know you still have plenty free! Go on, think! Don't forget that Helia was your defender at the trial! And with a defense like that, I barely had to try! She was steering you toward the Council executing you herself!"
"I figured all that out long ago," Chaya said sadly. "Helia's DNA is better than yours, mine, or anyone else's in this city except Mikhail's. The Ytranci DNA is stronger than the Dorandans' or the Proculucians'. They're third in DNA strength after the Asurans and the Lantians themselves. Consequently, when they return, Helia will unmistakably understand the situation and compete for him. And since she sympathizes with the Ytranci, her and Mikhail's offspring will lead the new Atlantis. And you, I, and the entire Aurora crew will be relegated to secondary roles, if not lower."
"Well, well," Trebal whistled. "Turns out you really are smart, since you understand that. Only, I still can't grasp why you, genetically weaker than me, can't seem to get it through your head that I'm the best option as his chosen one! Ow! What the⁈"
A sharp slap and the decidedly unpleasant sensation Trebal's backside experienced, Mikhail leaning on the table, the confusion on the Dorandan's face, along with Chaya's guiltily lowered eyes, led to an awkward silence...
"Well?" the man looked at them in turn. "Why did you clam up, Mengele with tits? Go on, continue discussing your plan to use the stud stallion. I'll listen, if you don't mind?"
Trebal, looking at the door she'd had her back to, then at Chaya, clenched her teeth, clearly understanding what had happened.
"You bitch," she hissed. "You saw him the whole time!"
"Of course I did," Mikhail sighed, sitting down on the chair Trebal had ignored ten minutes earlier. "And kept quiet. Used you in the best tradition of female intrigue to discredit yourself in my eyes. You know, that's actually a bad movie cliché."
"I'll kill you," Trebal mouthed silently, meeting Chaya's gaze. "I'll snap your neck."
"Stop hurling thunder and lightning already," Mikhail advised the Dorandan, clasping his hands behind his back. "Basically, I already understood there was more behind your squabbling. But I had to think about how you, raised in a society of Ancients, wouldn't just give up the 'humane eugenics' preached by the Lantians."
Trebal, finding a spot on the lab table, perched on it, looking at Chaya and Misha from under her brows.
"Now let's go point by point," Mikhail offered. "By the way, Chaya, I delivered the generator to the satellite."
"I know," she said, glancing toward her laptop.
"Just like I know you knew I said I'd stop by to ask you about the questions you have for Koschei," Misha nodded. "Convenient... No, seriously, you caught our Mata Hari neatly, didn't you?"
The applause he gave, however, sounded mocking. Making both Chaya and Trebal look humiliated.
"Helia, commander of the Tria — she's not Ytran, but Lantian?" Mikhail clarified.
"A half-blood, like Trebal," Chaya said. "Her mother is Lantian, her father is Ytran. Because the Ytranci are genetically more developed and quite close to the Lantians, they were practically considered Lantians. There were many marriage ties between these two peoples and..."
"That's enough for now," Mikhail requested. "I'm starting to feel sick from all this talk about genetics, offspring, and all that. I literally feel like an animal, a stud bull or something. By the way, Trebal. Didn't it occur to you that to hold onto power in the future, it'd be good to have a lot of children? Though, there is the possibility they'd start a civil war over the inheritance. Wouldn't it be better for me to impregnate every woman in the city? Regardless of their DNA level, the next generation would be stronger. Intermix with other descendants, Dorandans, for instance. They'd get even a little stronger, definitely wouldn't degrade much."
"I thought about it," Trebal said dryly, looking away.
"I don't exactly see a crowd of Ancient beauties chasing after me," Mikhail was clearly enjoying the situation.
"Trebal forbade them from interfering with her," Chaya said. "There's an order..."
The second woman in the lab shot her a venomous look.
And Mikhail drew out a single three-letter word. Chaya had already become somewhat familiar with his native language and understood it was one of the most common profanities in his people's vocabulary. Used as a universal expression of surprise, joy, despair, anger, and other strong emotions.
"You know, I never thought that after death women would be lining up for me," Mikhail said with a chuckle.
"Earth doesn't support genetic development of the gene pool?" Trebal clarified.
"On Earth, they don't build every other invention with a genetic lock and then run around that technology trying to boost their genetics," Misha said sharply. "There was one guy who elevated genetic purity to an absolute. And started a world war with tens of millions of casualties to prove that his nation was somehow better than everyone else. And he did it so 'brilliantly' that the entire civilized world beat them down, and they've probably kept humiliating them even after my death."
"Savages," Trebal muttered.
"You're the savages!" Mikhail said. "Running around with your genetics like a dog with a burning letter. What's left of you that's even human? Why can't you sympathize with a person simply because you like them, their DNA, but because they are the kind of person who makes you feel like you can fly? Who cares for you, who helps, who holds you close in a hard moment, lets you cry on their chest?"
"Or agrees to a deal with God-knows-who on God-knows-what terms so you can live," Trebal said, looking at Mikhail. "Or fights someone who wants to kill you with a bleeding artery tied off with a strip of his own clothing. Aims at the Queen of Death's head, who could kill you in a second, and bargains with the most bloodthirsty creature in the galaxy so you can live your life instead of dying in a wrecked platform on the ocean floor. Or endures the rampage of your hormones, amplified by Wraith enzyme, and doesn't take advantage of you while you're drugged by Wraith biochemistry. Are you talking about a man like that?"
"Um..." Mikhail seemed at a loss. "Well..."
"For the record," Chaya realized that if she didn't intervene, the silence in her lab would stretch on forever. "In Ancient society, it's not customary to sacrifice or risk yourself for another, less genetically developed person. It would degrade the genetics of the survivors."
"Like I said — your eugenics has messed you up completely," Mikhail grimaced. "Who would have thought that the creators of humanity were just a little, just a tiny bit, completely nuts as goddamn Nazis."
"Who would have thought that in the last ten thousand years, Trebal's breasts would be groped by two men, one woman," Chaya said innocently. "And two of them would be Wraith..."
Mikhail, after a moment of processing what was said, leaned back in his chair and burst out laughing.
Chaya smiled, seeing Trebal roll her eyes.
"You think it's funny," she snorted. "I thought I was going to scrub the floor off the gym working that enzyme out of my system. While you," she jabbed a finger at Mikhail, "were flirting with her," she pointed at Chaya.
"I was flirting with you?" Mikhail looked surprisedly at the Proculucian.
"She thinks so," Chaya sighed. "And I can't convince her otherwise. I think she's just extrapolating her own desires and vision of a life together with you onto the possibility that I might do the same."
"And you couldn't?" Mikhail clarified.
"How many times have I broken into your quarters and folded your things?" Chaya inquired.
"You're going to hold that over me forever, aren't you?" Trebal rolled her eyes.
"And a little while longer after that," Chaya assured her. "I entered that incident into the Atlantis archives."
"Bitch," Trebal drawled.
"I always said a small, fluffy, peaceful-looking hamster is far more dangerous to a grain store than a poisonous snake," Mikhail laughed. "Chaya, you are a very cunning hamster."
"I'll take that as a compliment, I suppose," Sar said with a forced smile.
"Alright," Mikhail's face and voice instantly lost all humor. "So if I understand correctly, finding the Tria isn't that hard?"
"It is hard," Chaya didn't lie. "But it's possible. As soon as we have those observation satellites you mentioned, the ones the Lantians used to monitor other races, I can adapt them for a wider scanning range."
"We know the location of the Tria's last battle," Trebal added. "If they headed straight for Earth from there, we need to estimate the galaxy's rotation speed over that time and calculate an optimal course toward the edge of the Milky Way."
"And use what you mentioned about where the humans discovered the ship," Chaya added. "The midpoint between the two galaxies as of about two years from now. The calculations won't be precise, but by sending a battleship there, we could locate the Tria within some amount of time."
"And bring them all here," Trebal added caustically. "And we'll have more people with strong genes..."
"And a problem with a near-Lantian," Mikhail added.
"Helia is a hard woman," Chaya added. "As are all Ytranci. They're not very accommodating, they don't much like those less developed than themselves..."
"Rather, they don't like them at all," Trebal corrected. "I'd even say they despise them and try not to have dealings with them. Only if they can be useful in some way. For example, my people would suit them as maintenance staff for Atlantis."
"As I recall, you mentioned the Ytranci had their own copy of Atlantis," Mikhail looked at the girls in turn.
"It was shot down during the war," Trebal said. "And no one knows where it crashed. I searched the city's database on it — no data since the last communication session with Atlantis. At that time, they reported they were leaving Ytran because of the Wraith fleet in orbit."
"I suspect this copy of Atlantis is the city the humans found on one of the planets," Mikhail said. "The locals call it 'The Tower' because only the central spire sticks out of the ground."
"I'm leaning toward the same conclusion," Trebal admitted. "Only the Lantians, Asurans, and Ytranci, as far as I remember, had city-ships like Atlantis. The Asurans... we know what's happening there. Nanites and all that."
"If the city crashed, after ten thousand years, depending on the new planet's weather conditions, it could have been covered by soil," Chaya speculated. "But we haven't found anything like that on the planets we've sent scouts to."
"Because we've been checking resource-rich planets," Mikhail said didactically. "I think we should take Ytran as a starting point and check nearby planets with gates. If there was a serious battle, they probably didn't fly far."
"Or they could have taken damage and dropped out of hyperspace on the other side of the galaxy," Trebal shrugged.
It seemed she, like Chaya, found it convenient to redirect the conversation to something else. Given where it had started... yes, it had been terribly awkward.
"Either way, first we need soldiers, then reconnaissance," Mikhail sighed. "For now, we'll limit ourselves to launching drones to planets near Ytran. As far as I remember, the 'Tower' still has a partially charged ZPM and a supply of ammunition, so we definitely won't find any Wraith there."
"That would be helpful," Chaya agreed. "I'll ask one of the technicians to look into it."
"Good," Mikhail praised her, rising from his chair. "Getting back to your earlier conversation."
Without a word, both Chaya and Trebal paled.
"Don't underestimate 'primitive races,'" Mikhail said. "Unlike you, building your plans around genetics, they don't bother with such nonsense. And they look at life more realistically. Alvar, for example, doesn't care that the Taranians will hardly be able to build him a fighter like the one he flew on Ermen in his lifetime. But that doesn't stop him from getting close to Norina Pyro. They have a good time, blow off steam. Even though, by your standards, she's practically genetic garbage and can't even properly operate Lantian consoles. But Alvar doesn't care — he just feels good with her."
The girls exchanged glances.
"I didn't almost drown during the sinking of Atlantis just to hand this city over to someone simply because their genetics are more developed than mine or because they're as cool as a VDV bread knife," Mikhail warned. "This is my city. And my people live in it. I'm responsible for all of you. And I'm not going to abandon you, thanks to Alvar and Kirik. The old life, even if I miss it, isn't coming back. And, most likely, if I tried to do that, it would only make things worse. And we have enough problems as it is."
Chaya heard Trebal exhale in relief along with her. It seemed one problem had become smaller.
At least for now, Misha had no plans to leave for another universe.
"I don't know what plans Helia and the Ytranci might have, but if they conflict with ours, there's no place for them here," Mikhail cut off. "Thanks, by the way, for warning me in advance that I was rushing you to find another eugenics bitch. I'm grateful," he placed his hand on his heart. "A weight has been lifted from my soul. Especially pleasing when I remember how you both chewed me out for not telling you everything. I'm sure you both lay awake at night, tormented that you couldn't be honest with me..."
"Now that's just humiliation," Trebal hissed through her teeth.
"We deserved it," Chaya said quietly.
"You know, I get it," Mikhail said. "Trebal is choleric, and you, Chaya, are phlegmatic. But, no matter how much you deny it or snort at each other, you have a lot in common. I think, somewhere deep in your souls, you both know it. And that's why you get even more pissed off. Maybe it's time to bury the hatchet and make peace with your demons? After all, I let go of my past. And I look at the present, disproving the argument that not everyone can look toward tomorrow. So, ladies, before you start planting bombs in each other's beds, if you want to be near me, put a bridle on your old grievances and shake hands. Even better — have dinner and talk like two human beings, not two competitors, alright? You're both dear to me, and your amusing squabbling, while entertaining, is like scratching a mosquito bite — feels good in the moment, but then turns into a wound. Don't do that. We're, after all, working on the same thing here. Think about what I said."
With these words, Mikhail left the laboratory. Presumably, heading to talk to the Wraith.
When the door slid shut automatically, Trebal turned her head toward it and said, addressing the Proculucian:
"You know, there's one thing from everything that was supposed to be said in this room that I still haven't heard."
"What exactly does 'if you want to be near me' mean?" Chaya clarified. "Cooperation, or something more?"
"Two things, then," Trebal said after thinking. "But you still haven't said why you're fighting for him. And what he means to you. And don't tell me I'm misunderstanding and you're just colleagues. He might think that. Or he might be deluding himself. I thought at first I just wanted to secure stability for my people, but it turned out... turns out," she corrected herself, "something completely different."
"I don't know," Chaya said. "I... I don't fully understand what I want in regards to him."
"But you must have some facts?"
"There is something," Sar admitted.
"And?"
"I don't know how close I want to be to him, but I know for certain that for a man like that, one could renounce Ascension."
Trebal fell silent, lost in her own thoughts.
Then, apparently making a decision, she asked:
"Do we still have that thermonuclear Athosian wine?"