By the time the escorts, who called themselves the local security service, had accompanied them to the Council Chamber for the announced meeting, Asan already suspected something was wrong.
Beyond what he'd learned from Kaspar, he had a fairly rich life experience of cooperating with commanders of other ships. Larrin in particular.
So, as he settled into the chair offered to him, his first words in the upcoming dialogue were:
"I'm not even surprised that Larrin and Nevik aren't here," he tried to hide his anger, but failed. "It seems my man and I didn't sit locked up for all these hours for nothing."
They were seated on the left side of a semi-circular, angular table. In the center of the "horseshoe," on the outer side, sat Mikhail, leaning back in the high back of a rather simple chair — too simple for a city of the Progenitors.
On his right sat a girl named Chaya Sar, on his left — Trebal. It was curious that no one else besides those responsible for the city's security — Kirik and Saya — was present in this compartment.
As if they had no other people for the shift.
"I don't recall either of you advocating for a joint meeting," Mikhail stated, clearly pulling himself away from his thoughts. "We have a private deal."
"And what are its terms?" inquired Kaspar Fry, sitting nearby, finally released from house arrest.
"You yourself were a trader," Chaya reminded him. "At least in one area of your activities. How many of your clients did you tell about the favorable terms of your other agreements?"
Asan felt irritation rising.
"Favorable terms.".. For them, not for the Nomads.
"I don't know what Larrin offered you in exchange for your friendship and patronage," the captain noticed that both girls sitting on either side of Mikhail shot quick, sideways glances at him. They didn't seem to have been part of the previous deal. Curious. Had the bitch gotten what she wanted with her charms again? May the reactor cooler hold strong! These are the Ancients! The creators of humanity?! How could they be so... grounded in their desires?! With their level of development and achievements in every field! "But it doesn't compare to what an alliance with our entire race could offer Atlantis."
"And you speak on behalf of your race?" the second woman, Trebal, entered the dialogue.
"Not at the moment, but if we exchange proposals that might interest each other, I could act as an intermediary between you and the Council until both sides express a desire to meet in person," Asan explained.
"How do we know you have the authority to do that?" Mikhail asked. "Every ship commander is responsible for their decisions only to themselves and their crew. The Council only creates the general direction of your policy. But there's no absolute subordination."
"In other words, you want to know if we're just trying to lure information out of you in exchange for promises that will never come true," Fry said. "We understand that reasonable concern."
"Just as reasonable as the fact that your people dialed Atlantis's address so we couldn't see or remember it," Asan continued. "Without knowing the address, we can't come here."
"Even if you wanted to, you wouldn't be able to get through our gate," Mikhail assured him.
"But from the gate address, you can calculate the coordinates of the planet it's on," Fry added. "Not that we're threatening you, just showing our awareness and understanding of security measures."
"If we had known who was helping the Athosians and running things on Athos from the start, we wouldn't have come to you as spies, but as friends," Asan assured him. "Our race has no desire to create enemies. Especially powerful ones, especially our progenitors. I apologize for any inconvenience we've caused. I hope you understand, in light of what you already know, that we're simply in a desperate situation. And over centuries of wandering in space... we've grown hardened."
"But I'm grateful that you showed me something new in the science of hand-to-hand combat," Kaspar looked at Trebal, then shifted his gaze to Mikhail, "and also for the master class in field interrogation."
"Not to mention healing him and bringing him here," Asan said. "Very few people we know would spend even a couple of medicine vials on an interrogated subject. But here," he looked at his scout, "he's unrecognizable. He looks like he's aged ten years younger. We wouldn't refuse technology like that. It's priceless."
"Especially the fact that I've grown new teeth," Kaspar touched the part of his cheek where, not long ago, there had been a void. "I didn't think that was possible with molars."
"It is possible," Chaya confirmed. "However, medical technologies are not open for exchange."
"If you're worried we'll spread them..."
"That's not the issue," Mikhail took the floor. "No one except us can use our technologies. I think you understood that from your experience with our ship."
"Besides," Chaya added, "the medical technologies are calibrated for our physiology. For less developed bodies, they are fatally dangerous."
"I feel fine, as far as I can tell," Kaspar looked around nervously. "No wings, horns, or tails have grown. I don't feel like eating people either."
"That's only because we controlled the process," Trebal explained. "The equipment is difficult to calibrate, and in your case, it would have to be individually adjusted for each subject. That means we would either have to send one of our specialists with the technology, which is a priori impossible, or train your medics to use our medical devices. In both cases, our answer is no."
"I take it this answer applies to all your technologies," Asan said with a strained smile.
He seemed to understand.
The Lantians had gotten what they wanted from Larrin, and now the deal, whatever its terms, would go through her. The Progenitors had simply decided to hear him out as a courtesy.
"We do not seek to distribute our technologies beyond our control," Mikhail said. "However, that doesn't mean we cannot create suitable analogues for you. Considering the level of your technological development."
"How so?" Fry couldn't contain himself.
"Our technologies are more advanced and based on different principles than yours," Chaya explained. "Where you use wires and microchips, we use fiber and programmable crystals that perform the functions of boards, microchips, fuses, operating system storage, interaction algorithms, and several dozen other functions."
"Convenient," Asan assessed. "However... Can you help us? I don't know how to say it scientifically, but... It sounds like you want to 'degrade' your technology for us?"
The trio exchanged glances, after which Mikhail placed his hand on the tabletop in front of him. The light under his hand shifted slightly, and it turned out that under the Lantean's hand was a keyboard.
And in the center of the space enclosed by the table, a hologram appeared of a ship Asan knew well. His ship. Next to it hovered the Ancients' starship. The Lantean's fingers pressed a few keys, and the Nomad ship's hull, resembling two fused parts, became transparent, revealing its internal space, as well as every energy or other conduit.
"You scanned our ship," he realized.
"Correct," Mikhail replied. "And we saw that you're not just in a sad state, but a catastrophic one. Your starship and its components have exhausted their service life."
"Repairs in many places are of poor quality, and a significant portion of the equipment is not performing its intended functions," Chaya continued. One of the ship's systems began flashing red after her words. "According to the technical specifications, this should be a life support system for a thousand people aboard a starship. On your ship, there are currently almost two and a half thousand people. Your mechanics attempted to improve the system and achieved some success. If you consider turning a life support system into an air recirculation system a success."
"And what does that mean?" Asan asked. "These systems are hundreds of years old. And they do a fine job of heating the ships and filling them with fresh air."
"The thing is," the hologram's parts changed, "you used to have a full-fledged life support system, which at some point broke down and you couldn't repair it. Instead, you installed an electrolysis system, extracting oxygen and hydrogen from your water supply by passing an electric current through it. The oxygen goes to replenish the ship's supply, the hydrogen to power the reactor. Which, by the way, is a fusion reactor. So, you're wasting a lot of energy in the fusion reaction. And, as we've noticed, the imperfection of the process causes neutron loss, and with it, a loss of energy output and structural damage to the reactor equipment. That's not very good. I think you know this, which is why you're not shielding your engine room for nothing. And just from your appearance, it's clear that the neutron radiation from your reactor is affecting you too."
"The costs of technology," Asan smiled tightly. "But, as I understand it, you can eliminate these costs?"
"Just as we can cure your people from the effects of living on your ships," Mikhail said.
"That's wonderful," Asan was genuinely pleased to hear it. "For hundreds of years, the Nomads haven't had a proper chance to fine-tune their ships. With Atlantis's help..."
He stopped, realizing his words hadn't elicited any reaction from the Lantians.
"You're not going to fix our ships," he realized.
"This isn't a workshop of good deeds, Captain Asan," Mikhail shook his head. "This is our city. And we have our own tasks."
"And what tasks, if it's not a secret?" Kaspar blurted out.
"And what tasks do the Nomads have, besides prolonging their existence by any means possible?" Trebal inquired, folding her hands on the table.
"Procuring food and technology," Fry frowned. He didn't continue, realizing he was stating what was already included — all their efforts for the last centuries had been focused solely on surviving another day.
"We fight the Wraith," Asan stated confidently. "Like all people in this galaxy."
"Do you include those who worship the Wraith in the ranks of their fighters?" Mikhail clarified. "Or perhaps you consciously don't count them. Maybe you just don't know they exist?"
"We know," Asan said. "On one of our ships, there's a man who was once a Wraith worshiper. He was an addict, dependent on their enzyme, which the Wraith secrete into a person's body during feeding. It took a lot of effort and resources to get him back to normal."
"And how many Wraith ships have the Nomads destroyed recently, possessing a fleet of dozens of ships?" Mikhail inquired.
"Our ships need repairs, so lately we've been avoiding direct confrontations," Asan answered evasively.
"Lately..." Trebal said the word as if it were liqueur on her tongue. "How long is that? A hundred years? Two hundred?"
"About that," Asan reluctantly admitted.
"I don't think you have any successes greater than that," grumbled Kaspar, who was also stung by the remark. "We haven't heard about Atlantis's victory over the Wraith either."
"Three cruisers and a hive queen," Mikhail said calmly. "I personally crushed the queen's head with these hands."
After his words, Trebal's expression changed, showing that these battles hadn't been as simple for her personally as the Lantean leader described them.
He raised his hands slightly above the table, as if displaying a brand-new weapon.
"Considering you probably wouldn't have acted before the rumors started, that's quite... progressive," Asan admitted. "Rarely does anyone manage to destroy even two Wraith ships while they're hibernating. And when they wake up and start hunting, even fewer."
"We came here to discuss cooperation," Kaspar reminded them. "I don't think any of us ever intended to show disrespect or doubt your actions against the Wraith."
"We had no such intention either," Chaya Sar assured him. "It's good that we remember the purpose of this meeting."
Asan irritably thought that Mikhail was deliberately steering their conversation off course. While Sar seemed amicable.
Maybe it was because Mikhail had taken a liking to Larrin and decided to lobby exclusively for her interests?
"When we learned that someone could protect a planet's gate from unwanted direct dialing, we decided to learn more about this technology," Kaspar reported. "I assumed it might be on Athos... That's actually why I ended up there."
"We know," Mikhail said. "I think we'll spare those present a conversation about how the Nomads don't like planets and don't want to become victims of the Wraith, right, Captain Asan?"
"Many of us don't know any other way to survive," he confirmed. "But among the crews, there are those who would like to take the risk. The hope that our ships will last even a century without a major overhaul is quickly fading. In the end, the most far-sighted among us know that we'll end up on a planet overnight. Tomorrow, the day after, in five years or a hundred — it no longer matters. What matters is that by that time, we can defend ourselves."
"So that's why you need our gate defense," Mikhail stated the obvious. "I already had this conversation with Larrin."
"Of course you did," Asan thought bitterly.
"And she made it clear that her plan revolved around the Lantean battleship's military power as the colony's protector," Mikhail continued. "I explained it to her as plainly as I could, and I'll repeat it for you: without us, without our technology, weapons, and supplies, this ship will soon become useless under active use. You'll exhaust its ammunition reserves in the first battle, maybe the second. After that, it's only fit to be a largely useless target. And an inefficient one at that, without proper maintenance."
"Which only you can provide," Asan concluded. "I understand your point of view. And I know Larrin won't just give up the ship for nothing. You must have offered her something valuable in return for her to agree."
"I don't owe anyone anything in this galaxy except my own people, Captain," Mikhail said, his tone ice cold. "I'd ask you to remember that."
"My apologies. I meant that the ship is too valuable for us, even potentially. Knowing Larrin's tenacity, she would have asked for a great deal in return."
"She'll get what was promised once she fulfills her side of the deal," Mikhail assured him. "The question is something else."
He didn't elaborate, clearly testing the quickness of his listeners.
"A private deal might not sit well with the Council and the other captains," Asan said after a couple of minutes of figuring it out. "They could rein her in. And her supporters along with her."
"But if we intervene," Kaspar blurted out. He fell silent, though, seeing a warning gesture from his commander.
"Your scout is right," Mikhail said. "On her own, Larrin might not be able to defend her position. But at the same time, you're just as respected a captain, well-regarded in your circle and enjoying a certain degree of trust from your Council. If you stand on the same side, you can at least push through the initiative to transfer the ship to us. Return it to the hands of those who should have it."
"Perhaps," Asan answered evasively. "But what of it? What do I get from this? You're essentially talking about a potential civil war within our society."
"Or else, your combined factions could convince the Council that listening to our opinion and cooperating is the better choice," Mikhail reasoned. "Alternatively, we'll come for the ship ourselves, but your opponents won't like the consequences."
"Then you'll start a war," Asan warned. "Is one ship worth making enemies like that?"
"We have the same question," Trebal said. "One of my battleships would be enough to destroy the entire fleet you could field against us. Then I'd board the battleship with an assault team, they'd clear out your people, repair it, and we'd depart for our base. But in the first scenario, you have us as enemies. In the second, as friends."
"Friends who can always help you remove unnecessary equipment from your starships, smelt new hull parts to replace old ones, help defend your planet if Wraiths somehow show up there, and even start treating your people," Chaya added. "And that's just a small part of what we can achieve together."
In truth, her answer boiled down to this: we'll find you a planet we know about and can reach anytime, we'll learn how your defenses work, you'll become dependent on our supplies of materials and equipment — and in exchange, we take a ship you currently (and perhaps never will) can't use.
What's more, a potential deal would split the Nomads — the faction that believes in continuing their current way of life is fairly strong. The "colonizers" aren't weak either, but the majority of society is undecided. They'd likely join whoever achieves greater success on their own terms. Only, most of the Council are conservatives, with their heads stuck in a can.
Those who leave — and a split would inevitably lead to that — would probably become outcasts to those who remain in space.
To top it all off, there are two more factors.
First — everything mentioned only applies to the deal for acquiring the Ancient ship for Atlantis. Further interaction with the "colonizers" would clearly be based on new agreements.
And that's where the second factor comes in.
"Suppose I agree," Asan said. "Suppose, I stress that. We return the ship to you, you keep your promise. We'll have to settle a new world, and you'll supply spare parts for the ships. But starships weren't just transportation for us — they were home. If we settle on a planet, what's the point of keeping the starships operational? We'd have to spend time clearing fields, planting crops, building cities, after all. You're promising protection."
"We talked about help, not about stationing a fleet of ships and a garrison of soldiers on your planet," a smile played on Mikhail's lips. "We're not about to become a shield between you and potential trouble. Especially since, with our help, your ships will become better, faster, and stronger."
"Did I imagine it, or was there all that talk about fighting the Wraiths being humanity's sacred duty?" Trebal reminded him. "Or, once your needs are met, will you focus only on the concerns of one category of people in this galaxy?"
There was no arguing that.
"To clarify the long-term nature of the proposed cooperation, I'd like to clear something up," Mikhail said. "We can't stick our nose into every corner of the galaxy. But at the same time, even the Wraiths have gotten used to the Nomads' ships."
"You want us to be your errand pets?" Asan asked, with no desire to hear the answer.
"I want mutually beneficial cooperation," Mikhail corrected him. "And if the Council doesn't want to deal with us on our terms, the only ones we can count on are you and Larrin. And your people."
"That sounds reasonable," Asan agreed. "But this is only a preliminary agreement. I'll do what I can to make sure we can come to terms. If not… I'll say it now — I won't fight against my own people."
"That won't be necessary," Mikhail assured those gathered. "So, Larrin has a small head start. Let's give her a little more time and talk about what might be useful for the City of the Ancients and how the Nomads can help us obtain it."
* * *