When the horizontal bars of the door slid into place, forming a single structure with the walls, the greenish force field restored itself with a soft crackle. As always up to now.
"This place doesn't look suitable for important negotiations," Koschei said irritably, looking around.
"Sorry, but there's a shortage of rooms in five-star hotels right now," I informed him. "Season. The rich bought out all the suites half a year before check-in. Didn't your tour operator warn you about that?"
"Having fun?" Koschei asked, baring his teeth. "You think that by moving me from one cell to another, you've changed something?"
"To be fair, your previous cell didn't have a bed," I nodded toward the mattress lying on the floor behind the Wraith.
"Funny," but his tone didn't sound like it.
"You offered me friendship along with valuable information, and I remembered that friends shouldn't sleep on bare floors. However," I emphasized the last word, "liars face a worse fate."
"And you're cunning, Mikhail," there was... approval? in the Wraith's voice. Ew, makes me shiver. 'Whom the enemy praises, there's clearly no use in him.' It's offensive when the enemy praises you, but Ivan Alekseevich is right. "First you made me revive two more for you, then you threw me back in the dungeon."
"On the other hand, I could have thrown you off the roof onto the pier."
"And who would revive your people?" Koschei inquired.
"Didn't anything about your last meal seem familiar?" I asked, sitting down on a chair Kirik had brought. "If not, let me give you a hint. Pale skin, long white hair, nostrils on the cheeks..."
"Nostrils," the Wraith's smirk contained bitterness and disgust. He ran the middle fingers of both hands along stretched, teardrop-shaped folds of skin that looked like poorly healed surgical scars. Larger ones closer to the bridge of his nose, they curved in an arc and simultaneously thinned toward the middle of his cheek, eventually just blending into the skin. "These are sensory slits, Mikhail. They allow us to surpass humans in tracking prey..."
"And we invented farming," I retorted. Kirik, standing nearby, leaning his shoulder against the doorjamb leading into the cell, silently watched the Wraith while simultaneously cutting thin slices off a fruit with a knife. Its name varied on dozens of planets, as did its varieties. But it most resembled a very juicy apple, the size of a kitten's head. Funny fact: the larger the fruit, the brighter its skin, the more sour it is. "So, you decided to waste my time. Fine, we'll write on your tombstone: 'Shot while attempting to screw my brain.' Aren't you ashamed, Koschei? I can see in your eyes that you're not."
Kirik spun the knife in his hand without taking his eyes off the Wraith.
A half-smile appeared on Koschei's face. Combined with his arrogant look, the Wraith's face was practically begging for an encounter with something heavy.
"And after you kill me, you'll find another Wraith and force him to do my job," he savored every word, looking at me with an incomprehensible superiority.
A health-restored Koschei in Atlantis's prison.
It seems this guy clearly caught a star, if he thinks he can behave like this.
"Just don't blow his brains out," I got up from the chair and walked toward the exit. "Seliza wanted to run a few tests on the biochemistry inside a Wraith's skull. I think the time has come to help her expand the horizons of her knowledge. I hope," I looked at Koschei through the bars of the grate, "you're not allergic to a scalpel in your pia mater?"
The Wraith bared his teeth. What emotion he meant this time, I didn't understand.
"Before you threaten, you should have studied at least one of the current Wraith," he threw at my back as I was already lifting my foot to leave the prison area. "None of them will help you."
Well, now it's getting interesting.
We went through the stages of anger and denial pretty quickly. Has the bargaining started? I wonder, do Wraiths even get depression, or will we skip straight to acceptance? Curious.
"Details," I demanded, returning to the cell.
"The Wraiths I fed on are weaker than me," Koschei even drew himself up. "They are younger and not as strong. None of those whose lives I absorbed could revive even a single Ancient."
"According to you," I smirked.
"You can check," Koschei grinned. "Reverse feeding requires extreme concentration when transferring life force. If you didn't feed me the weakest of my kind, then you definitely shouldn't change the life donor for your people."
For some reason, I recall that the Wraith nicknamed Todd quite easily revived one of the expedition members who had the strongest Ancient gene in the Pegasus galaxy. Off the top of my head, at least one other nameless Wraith first fed and then returned Larrin's life during the situation with the discovery of the 'Ares' in the events I know.
And I don't remember those two straining much when reviving people. And Koschei himself doesn't spend much time; his behavior and facial expressions usually don't show him suffering or being extremely concentrated. Maybe he himself isn't as strong in the necessary matters as I thought? What if the Wraiths spent ten thousand years just refining the reverse feeding technology and it wasn't developed?
And over ten thousand years, they managed to achieve more? I need to think, though. I wouldn't be surprised if I was wrong in my judgment that 'the older the Wraith, the better he revives.'
I just think, using the example of Ancient technology and the modern level of human development in both lives, that earlier was better. And in my favorite science fiction, such a plot is quite common.
But what if it's not the same with Wraiths?
I somehow didn't think about that in advance. Worth checking.
"If that's all, I won't believe you," I feigned boredom on my face and asked Kirik:
"Do you believe him?"
"No," he replied. "While I was a 'Runner,' I heard about those people who received from the Wraith what is called the 'gift of life.' From the description, I think that's exactly what this pale-faced one does. So he's lying."
"I agree with you. Koschei, I'm afraid we'll have to return the mattress."
"If the people to whom my brethren granted reverse feeding are not Ancients, then you don't understand the difference," the Wraith said irritably. "An Ancient differs from the people I fed on at your behest as much as you, Mikhail, differ from that," he gave Kirik a contemptuous look, "human. In fact, you are a living example of what I'm talking about. To bring him back to life," another nod toward the former 'Runner,' "I would not need as much energy as to revive an Ancient."
"So young Wraiths just need to be well recharged."
"It's not just about the amount of life energy," Koschei snapped. "They are weaker. Simpler. They cannot hold as much life energy as I can. You'll have to first feed the young Wraith, then let him release the energy into the Ancient, then feed him again. And so on several times. Not to mention the mental control of energy transfer."
"Well, let's assume you're telling the truth."
"I am not lying to you, human," the Wraith bared his teeth.
"Is that so? Do you know the logic puzzle about a man who always tells the truth and another who always lies?"
"No," Koschei looked at me with interest. "Humans always lie."
"Well then," I let his last remark slide. "We take one inveterate liar and a second, truth-teller to the bone. We ask them to tell some story, and then we ask: 'Are you lying to me?' Guess what each of them will answer?"
"Both will say they are not lying to you," it took the Wraith a couple of seconds to understand. In my time, I only understood after the man who told me this logic puzzle explained the answer.
"Exactly, Koschei. So I think you understand that your words have no credibility."
"He's just trying to raise his importance in our eyes," Kirik yawned. "He practically tells us nothing about the Wraiths and their technology, society and culture. Nothing useful about tactics, strategy, their bases."
"You can think whatever you want, human," Koschei snorted contemptuously, looking at me. "But it's not you who decides whether I live or die."
"With your tales, you keep tipping the scales toward lying down and resting on the dissection table," I warned. "If what I heard is all you wanted and could tell, then congratulations: you just wasted my time. For nothing."
Should I be angry in this situation?
If he lied and modern Wraiths truly are not suitable for our purposes, then the information is worth the time spent. Again, if he just told the truth and modern Wraiths are weaker than ten thousand years ago. However, I don't think they are all like that.
Obviously, there are older guys, stronger, more experienced than the 'youth.' But it's not written on their faces...
I froze, studying the Wraith's face.
Pale green.
And the Wraiths we captured had pale blue skin.
Different subspecies, like dark-skinned and light-skinned humans? Or does the skin tone actually indicate the 'ancientness' of Wraiths?
Interesting theory, need to look into this.
"So you're just going to leave?" Koschei threw at my back again.
"If I could walk on my hands or do the moonwalk, I'd leave on my hands or in the style of Michael Jackson," I said.
"And you won't even ask what I learned from the minds of those Wraiths I fed on?" Koschei added intrigue to his voice. "Is it easier for you to get by with little and leave after making a few jokes that only you understand?"
"I don't have time to talk to you for days on end," I admitted. "You see, there are so many Wraiths in the galaxy who would like to feed on Ancients. And they swarm like flies to honey to the transmitter you yourself developed."
"This time you were just lucky that the Wraiths who came for you were from a Hive that is still in hibernation," said Koschei. "A weak and heavily damaged Hive Ship. I think if you had attacked them with your ship, you would have destroyed them for sure."
"And now you don't mind letting your brethren die?" Kirik smirked. "I don't believe you, Wraith."
"Just as I don't believe you, humans," Koschei retorted. "But I am offering a good deal."
"I haven't heard anything good in it yet," I admitted. "And in general, aside from reviving Ancients, you're of little use. And you yourself said that other Wraiths could handle your job no worse than you. Just longer, more victims, and so on."
"More victims," the Wraith confirmed. "Many more. I have an idea of how many frozen crew members you have from that ship. And I know how many victims my feeding would require to revive them. Even more if you ask another Wraith to do it."
"Ask?" Kirik and I exchanged glances. "Koschei, you picked the wrong time to test the limits of my patience."
"I've already given you a deposit of information, human," Koschei snorted. "Now I'm waiting for an offer."
"I can offer you to lie down in a stasis pod until we need you," I voiced the idea. "No need to waste energy on your maintenance. Energy in every sense."
"You want to dictate an ultimatum to me," the Wraith growled. "When I can give you the coordinates of a world in whose orbit there is not just some cruiser, but an entire Hive Ship!"
"Well, that's the whole problem," I smirked. "Why would I need a Hive Ship? I don't have that many people with Wraith genes to operate it."
"And I'm not suggesting you operate it," the Wraith said irritably. "I want you to give that Hive to me. And release me. For my part, I promise you that on mutually beneficial terms, I will continue to restore your people."
That's quite a statement.
"Let me just cut off a couple of his fingers to bring him to his senses?" Kirik suggested. "He's talking nonsense."
"I don't think so," I squinted, studying the Wraith. "This bastard knows something that makes him set conditions for us. And that's interesting. What's the matter, Koschei? Bored in our company? Or," I said slowly, struck by a guess, "are you afraid of something?"
The Wraith growled quite loudly, baring his teeth. And began pacing the cell.
"Looks like I'm right," he looked at me. "While you were feeding on other Wraiths, you connected with them mentally. And since they are weaker than you, you could easily learn something extremely useful for yourself. Something about what is happening among the Wraiths."
"A deal!" Koschei snarled. "I tell you everything I know, but in parts. You capture the Hive for me and release me. We'll agree on where to meet so I can revive your people..."
"There's a saying: 'Audacity is second happiness,'" I said. "But in your case, audacity is a path to a very long diet."
"Or to death."
"If I die, you die too," Koschei assured.
"There are reasons to believe that won't happen," I said.
The Wraith suddenly laughed.
"You're counting on your shields and that the ocean will protect you?" he asked. "Perhaps. It helped the Ancients hide. But soon everything will not go according to plan. More precisely, not according to your plan. You won't be able to hide anymore, human."
"Words, words, words," I sighed. "Alright, you gather your thoughts, and then we'll think."
"Annoying guy," said Kirik. "He's gotten too full of himself lately."
Indeed, it's as if Koschei has been replaced. But it happened after his feeding on the Wraiths. The question is, what did he learn?
There's still a chance he'll tell everything himself. Though I'm increasingly leaning toward him bluffing.
But he's not a fool to put himself in such a position.
Looks like I'll have to use Teyla... And I really don't want to. Like, at all.
"I'll talk to Chaya and Seliz," I threw at Kirik. "Let them figure out how to make our windbag very, very hurt."
"Superhive," Koschei said, stopping in the middle of the cell. "There is a Superhive in the galaxy."
"That's not news," I shrugged. "In the Aurora mission, we encountered an entire Wraith fleet. And we destroyed three cruisers, a bunch of 'darts,' and also damaged a Hive Ship. And a Superhive was rushing toward us. You had several of those ten thousand years ago. And as far as we know, almost all were destroyed."
"At the cost of colossal losses on your side," said Koschei. "Because the Superhives were powered by an ancient energy device you call a ZPM. Thanks to them, our ships became stronger and could easily stand against an entire fleet of your battleships."
"But I doubt that the queen who flies the Superhive has kept a charge in the ZPM for ten thousand years," I said.
"It's not a queen who flies the Superhive," said Koschei. "The Wraith call it the Scavenger. A Smart One who became the commander of the Superhive."
"A Smart One?"
"That's what we call our scientists," the Wraith explained, nodding toward Kirik. "He would have been a blade in our society. A soldier, in your language."
"In your society, I would have been prey," the former 'Runner' retorted.
"Let's assume," I began to lose patience. "How are all these puzzle pieces you've told connected at all?"
"You're truly smart, since you understood that my words are part of a whole," Koschei nodded.
"Really?" Kirik was surprised. "I thought he was just throwing us snippets of disjointed information to make us fall for something."
Maybe so.
But Koschei is no fool and understands that this childish trick won't work. Instead, he tried to intrigue us with a story, presenting it from different angles. Precisely to see what interests us—the crippled Hive Ship, the Superhive, the weakened Wraiths... The life-sucker is studying our priorities!
Clever.
If I started questioning him about any of these in detail, he would draw the right conclusions. And adjust his story to convey the necessary minimum while concealing as many details as possible.
Expecting frankness from a Wraith is a stupid idea.
He's looking for profit.
"That's why you are a blade, and he," Koschei looked at me with a hint of something resembling minimal respect, "is the husband of your queen."
"Queen?" Kirik shot me an inquisitive look. But got no reaction. "What are you talking about, pale-face?"
"The main thing is that the husband understood me," Koschei looked me straight in the eyes. "Wraiths need to be connected to their queens. To receive their favor, to know they are not alone. Long ago, we were weak and frightened. But the first queens managed to calm their future commanders and gave us faith in victory over the enemy. You killed my queen... And also the queen of the one who commands the Superhive."
Let's assume. But Death was long considered dead.
"Get to the point, Koschei."
"The damaged Hive also lacks a queen," said the Wraith. "She died, and recently. They are heavily damaged and were forced to flee their feeding grounds. They have already begun calling for help from other Hives to tell about the Scavenger's actions."
"What a mess," Kirik grimaced. "He's just telling us random things. First time I see a confused Wraith..."
Koschei growled irritably and began pacing his prison. It seems he really didn't like what the former 'Runner' was saying. But not because his words offended the Wraith.
There's another reason.
And I think I understand what it is.
"Leave," I asked Kirik. "Koschei is shy around you."
"As you wish," the former 'Runner' shrugged. He generally didn't argue. "If anything, I'll be outside the door."
"No," I shook my head, switching to a barely audible whisper. "Go to the control room and contact the duty officer. Have him summon the senior officers to the Council Chamber in an hour. Also, I want to know who has been visiting him besides me."
"You think there's a traitor among us?" Kirik grew wary.
"Not exactly," I said, looking at the Wraith. "I think someone from our side is just too talkative. And I need to figure out who."
"Will do," Kirik became serious and left the room.
When the door closed behind him, I placed the chair with its back forward and sat on it cowboy-style.
Koschei, seeing we were alone, stopped pacing and looked me in the eyes. For a couple of minutes we played a staring game, after which he, smirking, dropped:
"It was time to kick that human out long ago. His mind is too weak to see the whole picture."
"Leave Kirik alone," I demanded. "And now stop fidgeting, Koschei. Tell me who you are afraid of and why."
The Wraith bared his teeth.
"You should fear him too, Mikhail. His name is Styx. And he was the husband of Queen Death."