Stepping out of the shower, towel-drying her hair, Chaya wasn't particularly surprised to see a man sitting at her work desk. Mikhail was looking at her sketches, done on translucent thick paper used for making cross-sections.
"Has anyone told you that people in this millennium use computers for making blueprints and models?" the Lantian leader inquired.
"Yes, I've heard something like that," the girl smiled, walking over to the mirror. "But I don't trust those anti-religious rumors. Science, progress? Pfft, how vulgar. Ascension can only be achieved through spiritual means. I think if we ever run into the Ori, I can disguise myself as one of them."
A chuckle came from Mikhail.
"You'll have to change the color of your dress to shades of red," he said. "That's their favorite color."
"What a shame," Chaya sighed with mock sadness. "And I so wanted to."
"Well, I'd rather not run into the Ori at all," Mikhail admitted. "As advanced as the Ancients, maybe more. But merciless, worse than the Wraiths."
"I actually suspect we'll have to face them eventually," the girl said, moving to brush her hair. "What the Ascended told you is too specific. Whatever's in the Milky Way, it's either killing the Ascended or trapping them in the galaxy — 'enter, but don't leave.' And that's not just advanced technology. I can't imagine what you'd have to be to know how to destroy the Ascended."
"Unless you used to be one yourself," Mikhail suggested. "Moros..."
"That's what scares me," Chaya admitted. "Moros was a conservative, a stickler for the rules. The most stubborn of all the Lantians I ever knew. If he really gave that up to create a weapon against the Ori... I can't imagine what must have happened for him, of all people, to do that. It's all strange... and it's frightening."
"How's the decryption of your records coming along?" Mikhail asked.
"Slower than the city's repairs," Chaya sighed.
"So — not at all?"
"Exactly," Chaya confessed. "I can come up with hundreds of meanings and analogies for each thesis off the top of my head, but their reliability... I'm afraid without going to the Milky Way and finding out for ourselves what's happening there, we won't get anywhere."
"We'll go when we're ready," Mikhail winced, setting the blueprints aside. "Did you hear what happened to Saya?"
"I think I was the first person Ihaar came to tell," Chaya shook her dried hair. For a moment she admired how it looked, then looked at the man. "You know he didn't mean any harm."
"If he had, I'd have discharged a blaster into him," Mikhail admitted. "The guy's too tired to sit down and think about what actions like that could lead to. Plus, he simply didn't know I'd risk pulling a Cyborg out of a Stasis Pod under those circumstances. So I don't intend to make him solely responsible for everything that happened."
"Neither do I," Chaya said, sliding aside one of the wall panels and pulling out a pair of similar-looking dresses. "But shared guilt doesn't negate the fact of the wrong actions. Actions have consequences."
"And Newton said every action has an equal and opposite reaction."
"He was a smart man," Chaya agreed, pausing in her choice. "But one way or another, Ihaar needed to learn that even heavy workload is no excuse for deception. So after he finishes making the truly Lantian implants, he'll have to spend a week working with Teyla on the Wraith cruiser. And on repair work on the drilling rig. We're just about ready to restore the hull and return the object's integrity."
"That doesn't sound like exile."
"You just don't know how much he hates Wraith technology interfaces," Chaya revealed.
"And you can be cruel," Mikhail shook his head.
"Firm," Sar corrected, looking the man in the eyes. "There are different management styles. And I try to keep a distance between friendship and official duties, so my subordinates don't get the idea that just because I know their names and can do their jobs, they can do whatever they want. Could you turn around?"
"After everything we've been through?" the man was taken aback.
"Yes."
"Chaya, forgive my audacity, but... What haven't I seen?"
"Me angry," Sar displayed her signature warning smile. "I can explain how important it is, in any relationship, not to cross the line of what's allowed. So that personal matters stay personal and attraction isn't lost through getting used to a partner's everyday behavior."
"'Familiarity breeds contempt,'" Mikhail muttered, but complied anyway, spinning his chair so his back was to the girl.
"Thank you," she said, slipping off her robe. "Have you been informed?"
"That the Ares will be fully combat-ready soon? Yes, Trebal personally came from Taranis to ask me to take 'that stuffy piece of scrap metal.' She decided to lift it into orbit herself... I think it offended the purity of her genetic line."
"A willful piece of machinery," Chaya agreed. "Though it's strange to say that about something that has neither will nor consciousness."
"Its expressions are worth documenting for posterity," Mikhail snickered. "Just imagine... a racist battleship. Though, what else would you expect from such creators?"
"I think you understand now why we were worried about the Haelians and the Ytranites," said the head of Atlantis, pulling the dress over her head. "They, unlike the Ares, can insult you with more than just program code."
"And you're not worried now?" Mikhail was surprised.
"You made it clear that you don't intend to increase the contingent on Atlantis by any means necessary," the girl reminded him. "That's enough for my personal peace of mind."
"What about the 'Darts' we hauled to the laboratory planet?" Mikhail returned to work questions.
"Alvar managed to pilot them, but a preliminary inspection shows both are heavily damaged," Chaya adjusted her dress and turned her gaze to the shoe rack. "I don't think we can get both airborne, but we have one 'Dart' to use as a spare parts 'donor.' I hope that one will be enough."
"So we have three fighters and one pilot," Mikhail summed up.
"I think there will be candidates among the unawakened to pilot these machines," she said. "Soldiers from the Aurora's security service, for example. They're well-trained, they know a lot about space and how equipment behaves in vacuum and atmosphere conditions. Besides, we can create training courses for them. But I don't think we should get carried away with such experiments."
"For now, we don't have a choice," said Mikhail.
"And our own ships won't be ready for a very long time," Chaya warned, making her choice. "We're still in the design phase. We're very far from even the manufacturing and assembly stage."
"So what are we close to?" Mikhail said with annoyance.
"I think I've almost figured out how to lift the city from the ocean floor."
"Almost?" Mikhail turned to face her.
He gave the girl, who was fastening her usual necklace, an approving, admiring look, but then shifted his gaze to her eyes.
"Make as many catastrophic mistakes as I have, and you won't want to claim anything without being sure of the outcome," the girl said, finishing with the clasp.
"Back on my planet, it's customary for men to help women fasten their dresses and jewelry," Mikhail muttered.
"In that case, how do your women survive when they don't have partners?" Chaya inquired, reaching her hands back. "But, if it's so important to you that you decided to mention it, then pretend I didn't say anything."
The dress sagged slightly, revealing her back, and the necklace slid into her hand.
"That sounds like a trick question." Mikhail stood up, walked over to the Proculusian woman, and turned her back to him.
Chaya closed her eyes for a moment, feeling his palm on her skin, but quickly pulled herself together.
"You do know that dresses usually have a zipper, right?" she clarified.
"What I'm more concerned about is why your dress even has a zipper in the first place." The clasp came away from her back and slowly slid upward.
"I altered it," Chaya admitted. "It used to have buttons, but I saw this type of fastener on Ermen clothing. I found it convenient enough for quickly joining parts of a dress."
"And... If I ask how you fastened it yourself before, when there were zippers, you'd say..."
"That it's none of your business," Chaya cut him off, holding out her closed fist with the necklace behind her. "Let's agree that some personal matters will remain personal, shall we? I'm not used to telling anyone where I got new shoes, bracelets, earrings, or anything else. I was raised not to share such details with a man. It's information you don't need and that embarrasses me. Besides, what would you do with it once you know?"
The jewelry touched her chest as Mikhail looped it over her head. His fingers ran across her skin, making her shiver. And then she shivered from a kiss that touched her vertebra. Through the skin, of course...
Oh, that skin... Sometimes Chaya hated the Ancients' genetic therapy. Because it had heightened her sense of touch tenfold.
"Has anyone ever told you you're the most tactful and delightful woman in all of Atlantis?" Mikhail whispered.
"Give me a couple of minutes and I'll come up with some harmless joke in response to that," Chaya closed her eyes, feeling his hands on her waist. "And, one more thing..."
"Did you find a planet we can blow up?" Mikhail asked.
"No, but if you keep flirting when I need to get back to work on the city's main systems, I'll blow your mind in revenge," Chaya promised, forcing herself, against her own desires, to pull his caring hands away. Turning to the man, she looked him seriously in the eyes. She wondered if he realized how beautiful his eyes were? And how much the Ancients respected him for the fact that he, a stranger from another universe, maintained eye contact without being asked or reminded — one of the foundational commandments of verbal communication in Ancient society? He probably didn't. And that earned him even more respect. "Maybe more than once."
"Don't turn into your average Earth woman." Mikhail demonstratively put his hands away.
"Don't use your official position and the fact that I can't resist you," Chaya asked. "We have a lot of work."
"Speaking of which. A day off..."
"An interesting theory," Chaya agreed, ducking toward the exit. "The Ancient society didn't have that. We need to develop the concept."
"Actually, I wanted to apologize for never even asking how you handle such a heavy workload," Mikhail said, embarrassed. "An entire city on your shoulders, and I'm not even that useful with repairs."
"I've found my own way to keep my psyche in relative balance," Chaya smiled, leaving her quarters with the man. "Have you ever thought about how labor-intensive the process of evolution was, combining the same processes in our bodies to optimize the organism as much as possible?"
Mikhail frowned, thinking over what he'd heard. And then, when he let out a heavy sigh, the girl already knew he understood what was being said between the lines.
"If the process of intimacy weren't pleasurable, we'd never reproduce at all," he said. "And that it helps relieve stress."
Ah, no, he didn't get it.
"Actually, I meant that talking with you not only helps me learn new things but also allows me to switch from routine tasks to an engaging conversation," Sar explained. "But your version is also interesting. From a scientific point of view, of course. And now, before you turn anything else into a matter of reproductive processes, I'd like to discuss disabling the redirection program. We tested the iris on Ermen. I think that kind of protection would be better than interfering with the gate system."
"Afraid of mistakes?" Mikhail tensed up.
"I'm afraid I could blow up not one planet, but a couple dozen at once," Chaya admitted. "But in general, we're done with the geothermal generator on Athos, and I don't see any point in continuing this game anymore. If the logs from the Dialing Device on Athos are any indication, it's already attracting too much attention. We've already encountered strangers landing on Athos. We have several planets whose Stargate dialing devices have modified program crystals inserted. If even one of those crystals falls into the wrong hands..."
"Consequences?"
"Imagine what would happen if suddenly all the gates in the galaxy stopped working properly. And on top of that, make a few hundred edits to that program and we won't be able to understand it ourselves. Would you like to go to Ermen and end up at breakfast with the Wraiths instead?"
"I don't think so. Though I have been thinking about changing all the gate addresses in the galaxy. The Earthlings did that..."
"It's a wonder they survived," Chaya admitted. "And yes, we discussed that option for implementing the 'Attero' program. I warned you — if we launch a change of addresses in the galaxy, we won't be able to stop the cascade collapse of the system. I can start it, but I can't stop it," the girl corrected herself. "It's beyond my power."
"But it worked on the gates in the Milky Way," Mikhail brought up the old argument. "And the consequences were prevented by people who are far below you in intellect."
"And also, based on your stories, those people were incredibly lucky," Chaya felt a flicker of irritation. "Besides, the Milky Way gates are far more primitive than the Pegasus ones. Not only in hardware, but also in software. I studied their technology before Ascension, and I'm still studying it now. And I still can't understand many aspects."
"That sounds like you're not the smartest one in Atlantis."
"Flattery won't help," Chaya shook her head. "I've made too many mistakes to repeat one of them again. I am almost one hundred percent certain that the adaptive protocols of the Pegasus gate network will turn a computer virus that changes addresses into an absolute nightmare. If you're ready to take responsibility for thousands and thousands of travelers who are away from their home planets never returning home, or even dying the moment the program is launched if they're inside a hyper-tunnel, then do it yourself. Without me."
"Chaya, it was just a question. We agreed we'd avoid genocide and mass casualties."
"I remember. That's exactly why we're not messing with the Asurans. Not looking for Janus's lab, thereby initiating contact with the Dark Asgards, not flying to the 'Attero' project lab, not starting 'Project Arcturus,' and not doing a lot of other things that would cause huge problems," Chaya spoke quickly. "And I am truly grateful to you for not demanding that I step over my own rules."
"Then half the galaxy would be swimming in blood. That's not how I'd like to start things."
"Glad to hear it. Besides, I can't shake the thought that what happened was because one or more of the Ascended somehow patronized the Earthlings. We're short on patrons."
"Do you think it's really that bad?"
"I think the Ancients are no strangers to manipulating people's fates," Chaya said. "But that's just a guess. Maybe the people on Earth really are just heroes and clever beings who found their own problems and heroically solved them. I don't know. I have practically no facts to develop even one of these theories."
"Then let's get back to the danger of your redirection program interfering with the gates."
"The programming of the Stargate system is quite perfect. The network's creators anticipated millions and billions of ways to intrude on their technology and planned for it. The gates can handle many types of software changes. Some they'll deal with easily, others they won't. And in the latter case, there's the danger that a code might emerge in the gate system, endlessly exchanging information with each other through subspace, born from fighting against foreign programming. How that might affect the network's operation, I can't predict."
Mikhail slowed his pace.
"Tell me you didn't know that when you wrote the program?"
"I didn't. But I've been studying the Atlantis database. And I'm learning a lot of new things. I found out about software protection, an analogue of biological immunity, literally right before I came to my quarters. And I calculated the options while I was getting ready."
The man fell back into step with her, even putting his arm around her shoulders. It was clear he didn't believe she could hypocritically create dangerous gate programs while simultaneously claiming she didn't want to intentionally harm the Stargate network.
"Thinking works better underwater?" Mikhail asked, referring to her last words.
"That trick doesn't apply to the ocean above our heads," Chaya assured him.
Mikhail sighed in resignation.
"Then it's time to end our games with the gates. And think about how to minimize the consequences of guests showing up on Athos."
"I think the simplest solution will be the most effective."
"You were against genocide, weren't you?"
"You do realize I'm talking about negotiations. You do, right?"
* * *
"Scheduled gate activation!" the duty technician responsible for the control room during the current shift announced in a loud voice.
"Who is it?" I inquired. Actually, I needed to get to the Jumper hangar, but it doesn't hurt to ask.
After the hyper-tunnel was established, the gate was enveloped in a matte glow from the energy shield. The technician checked the data on the monitor.
"Alvar Jensen is returning from Proculus," the technician reported. "Access codes are correct, the Recognition Bracelet is also confirmed. I intend to let them through. Do you have a different opinion?"
Without the peculiar uniform of the Aurora crew member, this guy, like the other Ancients, didn't look like a representative of a highly advanced civilization at all. Ordinary appearance, short hair, a phlegmatic expression.
"No, everything's according to plan," I nodded, meanwhile walking onto the small balcony overlooking the arrival zone.
The shield dissolved, and a few moments later an Ermen man stepped out of the event horizon. Grabbing by the scruff of the neck a Wraith dressed in a dark leather coat, Alvar didn't seem relaxed for a single moment.
The "Frequency Gun" pressed into Koschei's side spoke to that without false modesty.
"What a Wraith," I drew the attention of Atlantis's only prisoner. "Koschei, look at you, all dressed up."
Until now, the Wraith had only been parading around in fashionable — "I'm a metalhead, Mom" leather pants and a vest made of the same material.
Looking at me, the Wraith parted his lips slightly, ignoring Kirik who had walked up to him. Together with Alvar, they were supposed to escort the Wraith to his cell, where a few more chambers with unawakened Ancients would be delivered.
"Decided to feed me my own kin?" the Wraith snarled. "I won't believe you've run out of human enemies."
"Don't play the gourmet, Koschei," I asked. "You happily devoured your own crew. So be grateful for what you have."
"Including this?" The Wraith raised his hands slightly, rattling his chains.
"I actually meant, 'Don't complain, eat what you're given,' but now you have a stylish coat. And metal adorns a Kiss fan," I softened the blow. "Come on, don't hold us up — work awaits. How many can you bring back?"
"One, at most," said the Wraith.
"After devouring almost thirty of your brethren?" I was surprised. "You've gotten spoiled, my friend. At least two!"
"Twenty-nine crippled Wraiths desperately trying to regenerate their injuries are not food," Koschei snapped irritably. "Besides, I think you'll be interested in what I have to say."
"ZPM coordinates?"
"No."
"A warehouse with Ancient equipment?"
"No."
"Weapons capable of killing all Wraiths?"
Koschei actually flinched. The guy was really scared. A shame, of course, that such a weapon doesn't exist. Well, except for the Attero device.
But these are all thoughts about the problematic.
"No," Koschei hissed.
"Then what can you offer me, my far-from-young friend? And yes, in this case the word 'friend' is part of an idiom. I don't consider you a friend, you secretive sentient."
The Wraith bared his teeth.
"In that case, what I'm about to tell will bring our friendship one step closer, Mikhail."
"I doubt that a couple of old Wraith jokes will amuse me enough to bring you a couple of beers."
My smile made the Wraith's hands literally tremble. An irritated gurgle came from his throat.
Come on, you ancient bastard, cough it up. I know how mockery gets under your skin. If I shake you up good, you'll tell me everything in an insulting way, just to show how great you are in your knowledge.
Because I can feel it in my gut—this guy decided to bargain.
"You're not in your Hive, Wraith," the Ermen poked Koschei quite noticeably between the ribs. "Oh right, you don't even have a Hive. You're the captain of a supply tub!" Alvar shook the Wraith by the scruff. "Do that again and I'll shoot your legs off."
"And then you'll have to carry me to feeding on your back," Koschei retorted, giving him a contemptuous look.
Then the Wraith looked at me.
Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Chaya come out of her 'office,' drawn by the conversation. The girl looked worried about the Wraith's behavior.
Still, it's not hard to guess that this sly creature understood my game perfectly. And he's playing his own.
I also need to understand that he's no fool, to stir the water with just empty noise. If his information — and I have a guess about how he got it — is of little value or essentially useless, he wouldn't be playing with fire just for empty posturing.
He definitely has something serious.
I looked around at the technicians in the control room. On their usually impassive faces appeared confusion and interest.
The ten-thousand-year-old little bastard managed an intrigue after all.
"What I'm about to tell you, Mikhail, could shock your people," the Wraith grinned. "Should I say it here, or in the negotiation room?"
"Kirik, Alvar," I called to the former 'Runners.' "Take him to the negotiation room."
I really hope he decided to test my patience.