The moment he stepped onto the balcony, Larrin shivered from the cold reigning outside the city.
"Not a bad way to make me get dressed," she said, all traces of the goodwill and courtesy she had so carefully cultivated just minutes ago vanishing from her voice.
"Well, well," I chuckled, walking over to the railing and leaning on it. "I never would have thought that method would work."
"I'll bet one of your women suggested it over the radio," said the Nomad, stepping up beside me and pulling on her jacket. No trace of a fake smile, no hint of flirtation. Cold pragmatism. It seemed the expression 'clear one's head' had found a real justification. "If it's not a secret, which one: the one with the killer gaze or the one who's nauseatingly polite?"
"You don't believe I can figure out a little game of flirtation?" I asked, somewhat disappointed.
"I believe in math, mutually beneficial cooperation, and that you have what we need," the lady said, leaning on the railing with her left hand. Positioned half-turned and mirroring me, she looked me straight in the eyes.
"What a coincidence," I smiled. "I was about to say the same thing to you."
"Let's be frank, Mikhail," she grew serious. "I don't believe you're Ancients. More like a group of travelers who stumbled upon this city and learned to control it. And you have no rights to the Ancients' legacy, including the battleship you already know about, as I gathered from your girlfriend with the killer gaze."
"I can tell you and Trebal have a mutual fondness," I smirked.
"I'll bet my ship that right now she's climbing the walls trying to figure out how to get rid of me," Larrin said casually. "You can check — just contact her and ask a couple of questions. I suspect she won't lie to you — she's not the type."
"And you understand people's types?" I clarified.
A meaningless, seemingly pointless conversation about nothing.
That's how it might appear from the outside. But this was bravado, created precisely to test the negotiation style each side would use.
Larrin stated her position directly and without embellishment — they wouldn't give up the ship. And she had no intention of bargaining on that point. In fact, she planned to reject every offer to drive the negotiations into a dead end.
Why would she want to quarrel with us?
Because she'd said it outright — she didn't believe we were Ancients. And therefore, she didn't believe the Nomads would face consequences from this kind of negotiation. Plus, she had something in reserve.
"Life taught me," she said. "It's not easy to survive in open space if you don't understand what the people next to you are worth."
"Beautiful words," I agreed. "Then I think we won't have any misunderstanding."
"We vitally need that ship," she continued to push her line. "I perfectly understand what data you could have extracted from Fray. And you must understand — that ship is our solution to the problem."
"A delay, at best," I clarified, pulling a scanner from my inner pocket. "How long before you fill this battleship with your kin too? Five years? Ten?"
"And without it, we won't have a single day," she said, watching from the corner of her eye as I pressed the screen. "Our fleet is old, and we have no capacity to build new ships. Or to properly repair the ones we have. We need this ship to survive."
"Your logic is clear," I nodded. "The question is different. Why should we give you a fully functional ship of my people, built by our ancestors to fight the Wraiths?"
"You can call yourselves Ancients all you want, but..." She stopped when she saw me put a finger to my lips.
"No need to speak loudly," I asked. "You might scare them."
"What are you talking about?" she frowned.
I gestured for her to come closer and pointed at the scanner's display: "Do you understand what this is?"
She looked at the display, frowning.
Her confusion was understandable. All she saw were five white dots and two red ones. Not the most informative image, of course.
"No."
"You do have touch screens, don't you?" I asked, already knowing the answer. The girl nodded affirmatively, not understanding where this was going.
Handing her the device, I said: "Tap the dots. Oh, no, don't take it in your hands — it won't work for you. I know it's inconvenient, but what can you do? I can't exactly display this for the duty shift on the big screen, can I?"
Larrin followed my instructions.
Her face betrayed no emotion as she tapped each of the white dots in turn. Four schematic images of 'jumpers' didn't impress her. When she got to the fifth dot, which expanded into the battleship Hippaforalkus when pressed, she tensed noticeably.
It took her just one tap on a red dot to understand what I was showing her.
"Our two ships surrounded by five of yours," she lifted her eyes from the screen, looking at me with calm wariness. "I take it these are readings from Athos orbit?"
"Making that assumption you certainly wouldn't be wrong," I assured her, putting the device away.
"Negotiations at gunpoint?" she smiled wryly.
"Let's not play offended innocence," I suggested. "If you had the chance to capture one of us to unlock the secret of controlling a Lantian warship, you wouldn't stand on ceremony or negotiate. You'd beat him soundly first to show you're not to be trifled with, then demonstrate willingness to talk, and then force him to activate the ship to try and create a hybrid control analogue."
The girl thought for a moment and smirked.
"My style. Are you sure we haven't met before?"
Her voice sounded interested. As much as possible, given that I had just described everything she did in the known events with a member of the Earth expedition to Atlantis.
It seemed she either had already developed this plan and was preparing to use it, or she had a universal recipe for securing cooperation.
"Information that someone wielding Ancient technology has appeared in the galaxy has been circulating among the planets for a while," she said unexpectedly. "On a couple of trading planets, they saw your ships fly out of the gate and then activate cloaking. A few of our satellites recorded a small ship appearing on a planet that soon destabilized and exploded. That greatly angered the Council, as we lost a source of scrap metal for repairs and mines with useful minerals."
"There were no signs of life on Salumai," I realized what she was talking about.
"We don't abandon our harvesters when we leave planets with the cargo we need," she said. "You blew up the planet. Why?"
"It happened due to the self-destruct system activating on a secret facility we were in," I explained. "The pseudo-intelligence perceived us as enemies and decided to detonate nearby deposits of Naquadah isotope. That caused a chain reaction. I take it your spy satellite was in orbit among the debris? And there are passive sensors scattered on the planet. Otherwise, we would have detected subspace signals."
"There was a very old satellite in orbit around Salumai," the girl said. "It recorded data in passive mode and sent it to us every couple of days. When the communication session didn't happen, we sent a ship and found its debris. It took time to recover the recordings."
"Well, losing a resource source is a serious loss," I acknowledged. "However, none of your people were harmed."
"But they will be harmed if you don't get what you want, won't they?" she asked. "If we don't reach an agreement, you'll shoot down our ships, and then go for the battleship we have to take it. Right?"
"First, we'll send a team of technicians with spare parts to our ship to fix the radiation leak that caused the ship to be abandoned," I said. "By the way, have you installed the defensive screens yet or not?"
"Tear me apart, Wraith!" Larrin exploded, suddenly transforming from a hardened negotiator into a dockworker. "The ship's systems aren't working! There are no spy satellites of yours nearby — we'd have detected them! How do you do it then?! How do you get information about us?! The Wraiths tried for two hundred years to learn anything about us, but you... Rumors of your appearances have been circulating for less than a year, and now you're rubbing our dirty laundry in my face!"
"Trade secret," I said seriously.
Smiling or humiliating her now (or at all) would be pointless. For some reason, the girl didn't wish us harm. She didn't want to make enemies of us.
She genuinely wanted to give her people a respite, to somehow relieve the old starships from overpopulation. And she saw no other options but one.
Only she wasn't completely honest. A small thing, but still.
And now her mind was occupied with the question — if we knew what we were saying, what weren't we saying from what we knew about the Nomads. It never occurred to her that I had already said everything I could briefly recall about them. The rest were minor details that couldn't significantly affect our conversation.
"You don't have enough people," she said. "If you were numerous, even a few hundred, you wouldn't have the need to befriend such underdeveloped races as the Athosians. I saw your Kirik carrying firearms. The uniforms you wear aren't your production either — too primitive for Ancients. A second ship... You just can't handle it. While my people could..."
"Your people?" I repeated. "Larrin, don't mistake wishes for reality. Your ship is in comparatively better condition than Captain Asan's starship. I think Nevik really knows his job. As do you know that Nomad life, as it is, has reached a dead end. But before you can change anything, you need to gain greater authority among the entire race. And reviving an old warship that could become not only a home for a few thousand of your kin but also a new flagship of overwhelming power — by your standards — will help you stand out from the rest. I doubt any of those fine people calling themselves captains of your fleet fleet have achieved anything remotely resembling what you want to use to strengthen your authority. But nothing will work if you don't start the ship. And for that, you need us."
"And what do you think I intend to change by becoming the leader among the captains?" Larrin narrowed her eyes.
"Establish a colony on a planet," I said calmly.
Because that, after all, was what the Nomads eventually did once they got the ship. Yes, not immediately, but about a year after they received the starship, it became known that they had such a colony.
It's logical to assume that was Larrin's goal in those known circumstances, isn't it? Logical.
Coincidences like that just don't happen.
"We don't live on planets," she cut me off. But her indignation sounded too false. "We don't want to be game for Wraith harvests. On planets, we're vulnerable."
"And your words would be more believable if it weren't for one small fact," I countered. "Your people have almost certainly inspected the battleship's impulse cannons and also discovered a large number of homing projectiles in the arsenal. I think you know what kind of power they represent, and therefore you believe this ship will be enough to defend against Wraith ship attacks."
"Isn't it?" she asked, realizing that what I said was too close to the truth for an uninformed person. "We found thousands of pieces of evidence that Ancient warships possessed colossal power. One such starship is capable of destroying a Wraith flotilla, which is three cruisers and a hive ship. Isn't it worth trying to bring the ship back into service?"
"So you are trying," I reminded her. "And it's not working. Moreover, let's imagine for a moment that one day you manage to do what the Wraiths couldn't in ten thousand years — you crack the ship's genetic lock. And start its systems. Engines, dampers, shields, hyperdrive, life support. But here's the catch — you won't make it fire."
"Why not?" the girl became interested.
"You saw the compartment with the massive chair in the center of the ship, didn't you?" I asked. "You did. On board the starship, it controls the projectiles. Only from there can you control them. But here's the problem — you can fool the onboard computer and connect to the main systems. However, you won't get the critical ones — for that, you need a Lantian."
"Why?"
"Only a living and unconstrained operator acting of their own free will can control the chair," I explained. "Whether you kidnap them, intimidate them, brainwash them, drug them, or simply bribe them — the control chair won't respond. As for the impulse turrets on the hull... Yes, they're decent. A couple of shots from just one turret can dismantle a Nomad ship into spare parts. You can control those without much effort, I won't hide it. But in battle, that's not enough. Against Wraith ships, impulse cannons alone won't suffice. And they never would. It's self-deception."
"Is that so?" she snorted. "Well, suppose we found a way to use the projectiles. Suppose," she looked me over appraisingly, as if choosing an evening dress. Of course, if she wears dresses. "Just suppose I was interested and extremely grateful to someone who could activate the ship for us. And to someone who could either help create a hybrid control device..."
Her hand landed on top of mine, as if it had accidentally decided to rest on the same part of the balcony railing as mine. Women... Will they never tire of feeling so significant that in their minds it's equivalent to exchanging an entire battleship with an arsenal of projectiles?
"You didn't understand me, Larrin," I sighed. "This isn't haggling. It's not a deal. You came here with an ultimatum, relying on the information your spy managed to relay."
"Relay?" she raised an eyebrow. "I don't understand..."
She stopped herself, looking at me.
"Well, of course," the Nomad woman smirked. "You know about the backup transmitter too."
"In my world, a recording device in a shoe is no longer considered something new," I stated. "Larrin, you're playing with fire. You're literally making things worse by the minute. Do you really think we can't track all your transmitters? From the moment you arrived, we already knew that everything said in front of the spy was relayed to you through subspace. You just needed to find the emergency beacon. I'm sure you have something similar on you right now. But I decided not to humiliate you with a search."
"Or you just saved yourself another earful from your ladies," Larrin lifted her foot, sole toward herself, and pulled a small rectangular object from the heel. "See? The indicator isn't lit. It's not activated. The Nomad fleet won't come here, even though according to the plan it should have."
"But you decided to be reasonable."
The girl rolled her eyes for a moment.
"It happens with me," she said. "About one in three actions or so. I can activate it quickly enough. And then a couple dozen ships... will come here so you can shoot them down. That's exactly what will happen, won't it, if I activate it?"
"Correct. And," I looked up, "we won't even need to raise the city to the surface or fire projectiles through the ocean depths that protect us from orbital attacks. I'll just send a few small ships with a full arsenal of projectiles. Two per ship will be enough to destroy a significant portion of your race."
Larrin thought for a couple of seconds, then opened her hand, and the transmitter fell to the floor. A heavy sole landed on it right after. An elegant foot made a couple of twisting motions, grinding the device into a pile of parts.
"Today I'm really breaking records," she forced a smile. "The number of logical actions is exceeding all limits."
"That happens when one door closes and another opens," I shrugged. "It was smart of you not to make enemies of us."
"I can only answer for myself, Mikhail, not for my entire race or the Council. I'll repeat — we're in a desperate situation. The ship is our solution."
"Temporarily," I sighed. "But you're deluding yourselves. A colony, on the other hand, is a permanent solution."
"We need something more than words and literary exercises for me to actually present this to the Council," she said, looking from the height of the central spire at the myriad lights of Atlantis's towers burning in the darkness. "The city is enormous. There are so few of you. We could..."
"No."
"Afraid your people will get jealous when I come to you for help?" she chuckled. "Don't worry. I'm a big girl. I can throw a punch if I need to."
"I'm sure that would be an interesting experience," I replied after a moment's thought. "But, you see... Trebal would wipe the floor with you without even breaking a sweat. And Chaya wouldn't waste time on sparring — she'd just atomize you. Or turn you into protoplasm. Or a living bomb. Or..."
"No wonder I didn't like her from the start," Larrin grumbled. "Fine. You won't give up the ship. You won't let us move into the city either. It stings a little, hearing so many rejections in a row. Seems like the charm of the cut-out stops working when it's out of sight," she said with a smirk, glancing at her jacket. She smirked again when she saw I hadn't taken the bait. "Come on, then. Just admit it. Are you afraid of them, or don't you like me?"
God... Why does it always come down to this? We were having a perfectly normal conversation.
"You're a beautiful woman, Larrin," I said. "I'm sure you have worthy and suitable admirers among the Nomad fleet. I'm not in a position to enter that competition."
"Not interested in the hyperdrive mechanics?" she asked, a slight chill in her voice. Female resentment kicking in, it seemed. Oh, right... Every woman is beautiful. And every one of them is surrounded by the unbecoming and unworthy. But here's the thing — that's what every one of them thinks.
"It doesn't make sense for me to take on another hyperdrive," I said, using the same analogy. "I wouldn't have enough time to maintain each one. Miss something here, overlook something there — and suddenly your ship is thrown into the middle of endless space, far from any chance of rescue."
"Even if that hyperdrive doesn't need much attention and is so low-maintenance it can handle watching over the repair of others?" Her eyes sparkled mischievously. She just seemed to enjoy this wordplay.
She wasn't the type to stay on the sidelines, content with scraps and a pat on the back saying: "No time now, but hang in there!"
"I don't need a politically motivated hyperdrive," I tried to explain. "I have a different approach to creating hyperspace window technology."
Larrin looked up at me again.
"Not bad," she said, with a hint of approval and not a trace of irritation or resentment. "This is the first discussion about hyperdrives that hasn't infuriated me or made me feel like I've just scrubbed out a sewage tank. And you look pretty young."
"I'm older than I appear."
"That's obvious from the way you choose your words. Because I'm running out of arguments. And I'm getting nowhere. And I'm not leaving here without something," Larrin warned. "I need that ship, Mikhail. Just help me. And you'll have someone in the galaxy who'll come at the first call, bring all our ships with them, and, if you need a bunk..."
"We already talked about hyperdrives," I reminded her.
."..refuel it," she finished, clearly pleased she'd caught me. "And still, is it because of them... Life in the galaxy is too short to waste it on archaic social notions. Take what you're given, don't look ahead, live for today, or the shortest possible future."
"A convenient philosophy. It's what got you the role of cosmic vagabonds, isn't it?"
"And I want to change that."
"I believe you. From the way you're desperately searching for a solution from different angles, trying to find the one option that works for me."
"And you have no idea how much it infuriates me that I still haven't figured it out," her voice dripped with extreme dissatisfaction and irritation. "Another minute of this, and I'll be wound up tight."
"You'll be locked up tight," I said. "In the brig. And there's a hungry Wraith in there."
"You have a what?" she recoiled as if scalded. "Are you out of your minds? Wraiths can send visions, read minds. And even control some people! He could call for his own kind!"
"Come here," I beckoned with my finger, pointing at one of Atlantis's buildings. "See that skyscraper shaped like a triangular prism?"
"The Wraith is there?" she asked impatiently.
"No," I corrected. "There are several hundred stasis pods in there that were aboard the military ship Aurora, which drifted on the galaxy's edge for nine thousand years."
"A military ship of the Ancients?"
"Exactly. And you've already seen part of the crew when you were gawking at our command center."
Larrin looked at me with new eyes.
"Ancients?"
"The very same. And soon there will be even more of them. Considering we know where and how we can reduce crew without compromising the efficiency of battleships, and you want to turn a warship into a sardine tin — guess why your terms seem boring to me?"
"By the time you fix our battleship, you'll have a crew for it," Larrin said, disappointed, looking away. "And you didn't mention the Wraith for no reason, did you?"
"For intrigue, and to show you that we can afford to keep him here," I explained. "But no one else in the galaxy can. Are you starting to see the difference between your impression of us and who we actually are?"
"Let's say," Larrin said cautiously, "that you really are the Ancients. Or their descendants, mixed with them. That doesn't change the bottom line. A few hundred against the Wraith... They have only a couple thousand ships, if you count cruisers! They have millions! What difference does it make how many ships you have? One or two? You pointed out that my people can't build new ships..."
"You said it yourself."
"Well, you're not building any either," she noted. "I still have a viewport on the bridge. And I saw that your ship didn't just come off the assembly line. In ten thousand years, you could have at least changed the design."
"We're happy with what we have," I told her. "Better is the enemy of good enough."
"I'll remember that," she nodded. "But on the main issue, we're at an impasse."
"Only because you need a ship to carry out your plan," I sighed. "And until you disable your tunnel vision, we won't make any progress."
"Then help me! If you're the Ancients, you must have something I can throw to the Council as a bone."
"Well, it's a good thing it's not a stick," I remarked. "You want a colony."
"I want to colonize a planet," she emphasized the first word. "The rest need something more substantial than words to even consider it. They're conservative. I, on the other hand..." She stroked my hand. "I have more liberal views."
"Interesting," I acknowledged the hint. "I'll keep that in mind. Alright, I'll give you a clue. Captain Asan is your rival, isn't he?"
"Like every other ship commander. Everyone is trying to get something valuable and capitalize on it. To exchange it for needed technology or secure Council support."
"And gate defense would give him what he needs?"
"Less than a working ship," Larrin drew in a noisy breath. "Is this how you always treat girls? First you torment them with interesting puzzles, and in the end, you give them what they need?"
"We already closed the hyperdrive issue, didn't we?"
Larrin stepped closer and pressed her shoulder against mine, shivering, as if by accident, from the surrounding cold.
"I'm ready to return to topics that interest me at any hour of the day or night," she purred. "So... Gate defense. How do you do it?"
"Our ancestors created the gates," I reminded her, shamelessly lumping myself in with the Lantians. "What do you think yourself?"
"I think gate defense would be a simpler, but still interesting alternative," she said. "Not as valuable as a practically functional Ancient warship with full armament."
"Which will last for a few good battles," I summarized. "After that, even if you still have a working starship, you'll lose the ability to properly attack or defend. You haven't forgotten that munitions are a finite resource, I hope?"
"Can you manufacture them?" she asked directly.
"It's Lantean technology," I reminded her, without going into details. "And we're in the Lantean capital. Unlike you, we wouldn't need to build factories in our colony to replenish equipment and hull plating for our ships."
"You have a factory?" Larrin gasped.
"We have the means to maintain and repair our own ships," I said. "And, let's say, if a lady showed up, in possession of one of our ships that's useless in her hands, and she had the wisdom to hand over a dangerous toy that could soon become flying junk, then I would be grateful to her."
"Grateful enough to help with fleet upgrades?"
"Grateful enough to help find a planet that the Wraith never visit," I clarified. "Like we did for the Athosians."
Larrin fell silent.
"Now I get it," a smile appeared on her lips. "Teyla Emmagan... Is she also part of your hyperspace window program?"
She kept hitting the same spot too often. Uncle Freud would have already put her on his radar and started building a theory connecting the big, long Lantean warship and her slips of the tongue.
"Has anyone ever told you that personal life is called personal for a reason, not public?"
"Yes, I've heard something like that," Larrin was clearly pleased that she thought she'd found a chink in my armor. "But, you do understand that gate defense and repair help will be a bit light compared to a whole Ancient warship?"
"But you understand that one Ancient warship can fly after another and take it by force, right? You already know the consequences."
"Harsh," Larrin smiled despite her words. "I like it. But I can't guarantee the Council will agree to that kind of exchange."
"You think I care about your Council?" I asked. "We're talking to each other. Leader to leader. You found the ship. You decide what happens to it. Or have the Nomad rules changed in some incomprehensible way since we've been freezing here?"
"Unlikely," Larrin admitted. "But this way, you won't make allies among my people. Maybe a few ships and their crews, for whom I'm an authority and who'll like the idea of colonizing a planet. But no more than that. You need something bigger."
"Like help with colonization?" I asked. "An inspection of your ships and modernization advice? Or, perhaps, consistently efficient, high-performance generators?"
"That sounds like a promise for a second round of negotiations," a smile played on Larrin's face. "I give you the ship, and you help me and my supporters find and protect a planet. Right?"
"Within reason, Larrin," I warned. "The last part doesn't mean I'll come running to your aid fully armed at the first call."
"Not yet, definitely not," she ran her appraising gaze over me again. "But, I'll repeat myself. I'm not so conservative as to miss out on a good deal. I'm sure I have something to surprise you with."
"Don't promise what you can't deliver," I advised with a grin.
Larrin, pulling away from the railing, ran her hand down my jacket from top to bottom, following it with her eyes.
"Take my word for it," her eyes met mine. "If I'm satisfied with our cooperation, I'll have something to give you. And then it'll be your turn to think about whether you can pay the price I'll ask."