Mikhail stepped out from behind the table and walked straight toward her, making it clear this conversation would be unofficial.
The moment the doors of the Council Chamber closed behind those who had left, Larrin went on the offensive.
In her own way, of course.
"If you need your back rubbed after Chaya's claws, I'm not much of a medic," she said, meeting the man's eyes defiantly. "Ask your new red-haired friend, she's so accommodating..."
"Shut your mouth."
The quiet voice that uttered that phrase was practically seething with cold fury. The look in Mikhail's eyes was far from his usual cheerfulness.
Larrin felt a chill run down her spine.
Somewhere in the back of her mind, a warning signal went off, telling her she had wandered into dangerous territory.
"I'm going to say a few things, and you either need to remember them or write them down," Mikhail declared, just as quietly, with icy coldness. "First and foremost: my personal life concerns only me and my family members. If you ever speak inappropriately about any of them again, you'll take a walk to breathe vacuum."
"In a spacesuit as a warning?" Larrin snorted.
"The warning was just given," Mikhail explained. "There won't be another one."
The girl looked at the Lantian with barely concealed rage.
"I take it you have more to say to me?"
"Quite a bit," Mikhail confirmed her hopes. "Second, though slightly less important. This isn't a Nomad Council here. And it's not a democracy. If I've decided that cooperating with this Wraith queen is beneficial for us in the current situation, then that's how it will be. You can disagree, but come and tell me that in private, not in front of other people. Is that clear?"
"Perfectly. Anything else?"
"Third. The more you try to show off your rebellious 'self,' the less inclined I am to keep you in the position of commander of the Ares. And without that, you're useless to me altogether. Was that hint clear enough?"
"Perfectly," Larrin hissed.
More than transparent.
If she had no weight in Atlantis, she would lose it quickly among the Nomads, too. She had no ship, no crew for that ship even if she did. She didn't know how to farm the fields, dig in mines, or build houses. And consequently, she was useless to her people. No one would say it to her face, but they would make it perfectly clear through their actions.
First, they would delicately push her out of the Council of Ermen, then out of the community of her former ship's crew... and everything she had done up to now would be for nothing.
"Fourth. We have dubious deals, treaties, and operations ahead of us as well. Some we might win, others we might bathe in blood. Let me repeat what didn't sink into your emergency ganglion last time: I'm not going to look over my shoulder every time, asking you to watch my back."
"That sounds a lot like point three," Larrin snorted, seeing the displeasure on Mikhail's face. "Couldn't think past three points, but you don't want to back down because it would look like weakness?"
"I always have a fifth point," Mikhail assured her. "Shoot you on the spot and get rid of future problems."
"Quite fair," Larrin agreed. "But, since you've said your piece, do you mind if I say something to you?"
"Go ahead."
"You're getting carried away," the Nomad reported without embellishment. "Collaboration with Wraiths in this galaxy is considered a very, very despicable thing. Keeping and using a captive Wraith is one thing. But going for an alliance with a queen... You're planning to give her the Hive Ship after all this, aren't you?"
"Do you have an alternative?"
"Yes, kill her the moment she's no longer needed," Larrin stated her point of view. "Queens are their nervous and strategic centers. We've known her for, what, a day? And she's practically jumping out of her dress to prove how useful she can be to us. Hasn't she offered to warm her pale body with a strong Lantian..."
Mikhail stood a couple of meters from her.
Everything seemed safe.
Until he was suddenly a meter closer. Realizing this, Larrin took a step back.
And backed into the revolving door. Which, for some reason, didn't react to her movement and let her out.
"Don't tell me I ruined your plans for the evening," she said. Provocative defense wasn't ideal, but... there was a problem here. Larrin simply didn't know how to act otherwise.
"Is that what you think of me?" Mikhail inquired.
"Well, why not? Tall, young, slender, fits in your hand, decent from behind too," Larrin shrugged nervously. "All your type. Though I haven't noticed any pale redheads around you before, but she could fill both quotas at once."
"What is your problem, woman?" Mikhail grimaced.
"I don't have a problem," Larrin snapped. "Besides the fact that my commander is starting to play games with no human winners. Or do you really think the queen will play by your rules? Oh, right, providing a fake cover for Atlantis, killing bad Wraiths together, behaving slightly more humanely toward people on the planets — those are all her suggestions, not yours. But in reality, she can't give us anything except how to control a Hive Ship."
"She can," Mikhail said. "All the Wraiths that would be a threat to her new Hive. All the captive Blades and Smart Ones, except one per ship that will be captured rather than destroyed, she'll hand over to us. So Koschei can feed on them and bring our people back to life. By the most conservative estimates, that will be enough to bring back all the Ancients from the Aurora's crew.
"Among whom there are also those who clearly won't want anything to do with you."
"Their choice. I have places to send them far from Atlantis."
"Oh, really?"
"Exactly."
"And where?"
"That's above your pay grade to know."
"I'm the commander of your ship!"
"Are you kidding me?" Mikhail looked at her in bewilderment. "Even Trebal and Chaya don't know what I plan to do with the separatists. And you think the fact that you give orders on the Ares's bridge entitles you to hear what they don't know?"
"Among the Nomads, the ship's commander is the highest authority after the Council and..."
Larrin fell silent.
"And you're not among the Nomads anymore," Mikhail reminded her. "But you can return anytime. You know the way out."
"I do. Just like I know you erased all my navigational paths back."
"That was your choice."
"And I was hoping it wouldn't be so weak."
"Well, what can you do. You wanted to screw me over, but it turned out the other way around."
"Don't flatter yourself," Larrin grimaced. "I never had any attraction to you. Yes, you're not bad, but I've had men better than you."
"And why do I need that information?"
"So you know you're not the best man around here."
"I don't care who's the best and who isn't, I have my own work to do," Mikhail snapped. "And the fact that you slip quite transparent hints every other line says a lot about your Freudian slips."
"And who is that? Actually, I don't care."
"I noticed."
"I don't like alliances with Wraiths. Don't you understand that in the future, we'll be dependent on her?"
"Don't you understand that our only alternative is to sit and wait for as many Wraiths as possible to come to us? We're buying time to deal with the most obvious enemy by using the strength of another enemy."
"What's stopping you from using Teyla to control the Hive Ship?"
"Her coma, goddammit!" Mikhail slammed his fist against the bulkhead next to Larrin's head. "I get that being a blonde is a state of mind, but for the love of... Larrin! You were right there when I carried Teyla into the jumper. She's unconscious, and Celise doesn't know if she can fix the damage in her head! Her brain got put through a blender, you prickly thorn! Are you really that stupid, or have you been faking it this whole time?"
The girl felt confused and humiliated.
"I..." She swallowed the lump in her throat. "I thought you were feeding misinformation to the queen. That Teyla was fine. Your medical technology can work miracles, right?"
"It can. With Lantian genetics. For humans, it's more dangerous than walking into a fusion reactor without protection! And Teyla is just a human. Healing her will take a long time and a lot of care to avoid accidentally killing her."
"Then... why didn't you let the queen bring her back?" Larrin was surprised. "She would have gladly done it."
"And we also don't know if the queen could have gotten into Teyla's mind while she was unconscious," Mikhail revealed. "And we don't know what she could have taken from there. Codes for the iris on Ermen or other planets? Communication frequencies? Knowledge about Atlantis? If it's possible, anything could happen! We can't take that stupid a risk."
"We?" Larrin sensed something was wrong. "You didn't come up with this alone?"
"For your information, you cosmic voyeur, you can combine business with pleasure," Mikhail said. "For example, spend an hour and a half discussing a lot of what Chaya learned from the Wraith. Come to the understanding that she can't be trusted. Decide to send Saya to her Hive, who can kill anything that moves. And what doesn't move, the cyborg girl will get moving and finish off. Or she'll break the queen if she decides to shoot our ships in the back. Or betray us in some other way. And Saya might be the only one who can stop her. Or, we could create at least a Hive that is neutrally inclined toward Atlantis, one we can at least partially control. And use it to destroy other Hives across the galaxy. And if she doesn't keep her promise not to exterminate people, we'll break her spine too. But we need her! Here and now!"
"In that case, it would be easier to just aim Koschei at it and send him to command that ship!"
"Easier, but there's a chance we'd lose the ancient Wraith responsible for resurrecting my people. Other Wraiths might not be able to handle that task. Not to mention that Koschei has his own agenda, and I trust him even less than the queen. And I don't trust her at all!"
Larrin looked at Mikhail's face.
He was clearly angry, and it gave him a certain fierce beauty. A primal, masculine beauty of a man who doesn't particularly want to explain his actions. Nomad men were different.
They loved to boast about their achievements, seeing it as their own greatness and attractiveness.
But here... it was different.
Extremely unusual.
Exciting.
Larrin tried to calm down.
"The Wraith cruiser isn't involved in the operation because it simply can't get there in time?"
"And also because we don't even have a captain for it to use mental control. Not to mention that if we lose at the dead planet, we'll need a backup ship to evacuate the drilling rig from Lantea when Atlantis leaves here."
"Is there any point in doing anything if we all die there?"
"Dying is our enemies' job. We will fight. And if there's no chance of victory, we'll get out of there. But we'll inflict maximum possible damage on the Scavenger's fleet to slow down his aggression toward us. And while he licks his wounds, can you guess what will happen?"
"Our ships will reach Atlantis first. Chaya, during the battle and retreat, will have already prepared it for departure," Larrin understood. "And we'll get out of this system, somewhere they won't find us."
"Exactly," Mikhail confirmed irritably. "And if we lose, we'll find ourselves another planet, another home, and lie low there. Let the Wraiths come — we won't be here anymore. They can wait here until the second coming of the Lantians for all I care, while we observe them secretly, track them down, and destroy them one by one. And then, when we're strong again, we'll come for the Scavenger a second time. But we'll have to search for him, whereas now he's right in front of us. We can't miss this chance!"
"Sounds like a plan," the Nomad assessed. "Even with a backup... Alright, I'm impressed."
"Yes, your approval is just what I needed," Mikhail grimaced, as if he'd eaten something disgusting.
He clearly didn't like sharing his plans.
"You know what your problem is?" Larrin clarified.
"I don't have any problems that you could solve."
"There's your first problem," Larrin shook her head in disappointment. "In this galaxy, every first trip through the Gate can end in death. Denying the obvious is just stupid. Same as denying that we have problems."
"We?"
"We!" the girl said emphatically. "Of course, that is, unless you've already written me off in your mind."
"I've considered it," Mikhail admitted. "If you follow the rules I've outlined..."
"And there's the second problem," Larrin interrupted unceremoniously. "You demand complete submission from me and everyone else. You think we should listen to your reasoning, see things we don't like, do things we find repulsive, and yet trust you? And that's knowing how easily Wraiths can get into a person's head! And they have to get into your skull!"
"The city has suppressors on the Wraiths' mental abilities," Mikhail winced. "They can't dig through our brains even if they really wanted to."
"Vacuum take my locker, that's not what I mean!" Larrin flared up. "How can I trust you if you don't tell me the whole plan?"
"You don't need to know what doesn't concern you," the Lantian grimaced. "The more people know, the greater the chance everything will go wrong. The last operation proved that!"
"Is that so?" the girl got angry. "You think so little of me that you believe I would tell anyone anything under torture... anything at all! I'd rather die than let my people down!"
"Your people?"
"Don't nitpick words, you know what I mean!" Larrin clenched her fists in powerless rage. "Do you know how all this looks from the outside? You demand loyalty, obedience, honesty, while you float around in your own plans. And it takes scenes like this to find out that things aren't as clear-cut as they seem. Do you know what that's like?"
"Like having someone at the helm who knows what he's doing?"
"Like having someone who uses us in the dark because he doesn't trust us!" Larrin shouted in Mikhail's face. "And if you don't trust us, then why should we trust your judgment? I'm not used to a plan having a plan, and the plan I was told doesn't even include half the details! Kaspar isn't used to it either, but he's desperately clinging to the idea that you know what you're doing! And all the Nomads are clinging to that, because in our eyes, Atlantis is hope for survival. And, you know," she poked a finger at the man's chest, "hope for dealing with the Wraiths, which you're apparently using, and then, maybe, you'll just throw it away. Or send a cyborg assassin to deal with it if you don't like that we don't trust your grand plans! Or send one of the battleships to do something we don't like, just because we're nothing more than disposable pieces on your board! The Ancients might be fine with that approach, but I'm not. If your goal is to keep the real plan or a backup plan in your head so that in the end they pat you on the back and tell you what a genius you are, that won't work for long. With that attitude, you'll just make people turn away from you because they won't know what to expect from you! And you'll be left alone, at best alone with your Atlantis, when everyone else simply goes somewhere they feel comfortable and safe!"
Throughout her impulsive outburst, Mikhail looked her in the eyes, as if seeing her for the first time.
"But..." the man suddenly seemed embarrassed. Barely noticeably, but still. "The Ancients were used to the Lantians generating plans while everyone else executed them..."
"Wake up!" Larrin appealed to reason. "You're probably the only Lantian in this galaxy, for sure. Look back and see where that stupid tactic led! They were wiped out, and those who weren't ran away and abandoned everyone! You once said you intended to act differently, but everything points to you deliberately sticking your wet hands into the same distribution panel where your fellow technician's corpse is lying! If you want to change something, start with yourself! Learn to trust people, trust that you demand from others!"
The very fact that he had overlooked such a simple and obvious solution as being open with the subordinates whose work he relied on proved that Mikhail was no genius.
And Larrin hoped dearly that he understood that.
"I'll think about it," Mikhail said after a couple of minutes of silence.
"I hope so," the girl threw at him, looking away.
Everything inside her was trembling.
Even the Council, which was less significant compared to Atlantis, wouldn't have allowed her to speak to any of them like that. Even if she was telling the truth and speaking from the heart.
But here, the leader of a city-ship, possessing weapons that could wipe any race off the face of the galaxy...
Everything inside Larrin went cold.
Her mind began processing the information, analyzing the words she had spoken in the heat of the moment.
And her brain, which usually kicked in after the deed was done, told her that she could have conveyed her thoughts to Mikhail without the yelling, the hints of incompetence, and the rest.
She had never allowed herself anything like that toward members of the Council. With captains of other ships... well, why lie, breaking the nose of any one of them in an argument was an excellent way to reason with a stubborn idiot.
But speaking to her superior like that...
"I'm sorry," she lowered her voice, pulling herself together. "I got carried away and said a lot I shouldn't have. More precisely, I said what I thought, but the form... I should have said it to you in private, and if I had known your intentions regarding the Wraith, I wouldn't have undermined your authority at the meeting."
"In substance, you said the right things," Mikhail said to her surprise. "The form, of course, is annoying and makes me consider sending you alive to the dissection table..."
Larrin froze.
.".. but then I'd lose someone who has enough audacity and courage to point out my mistakes where I don't see them, wouldn't I?" the man smirked.
"Probably," Larrin said cautiously.
If she were in a position of authority right now, she wouldn't mince words and would lean on her authority. But as a subordinate, afraid that she would be disposed of and thereby destroy the fruits of her labor, she had to restrain her temper.
Which was even more irritating than Mikhail's behavior.
"Let's make a deal," he said. "First, we deal with the Scavenger's fleet, and then we'll gather a small circle and have an honest talk. I think I can explain the reason for my reluctance to reveal plans, but believe me, it's not because I don't trust you or anyone living on Atlantis. We have... precedents where absolute trust turned against us. And I don't want to make things worse by stepping on the same rake twice. But it seems I've overdone it in some places."
"As have I," the girl admitted, calming down. "We've both had tough days and are on edge. We need to find a way to relieve stress that isn't this. And preferably," she pointed a finger at the ceiling, "under the open sky. It's terribly irritating being at the bottom of an ocean. Even on Nomad ships, it's customary to occasionally go down to planets to stretch your legs and breathe normal air."
"I'm aware of that problem, and we're working on it," Mikhail assured her. "As soon as we deal with the Scavenger's fleet, we'll raise the city."
"Or move it to another planet."
"Or that. We have limited supplies of vitamin D to feed people nonstop."
"You'll have to explain the meaning of that phrase too," Larrin said. "Like everything else you say that people around you don't understand. It's infuriating."
"Don't cross the red lines," Mikhail smirked. "One brain adjustment doesn't give you the right to constantly rinse it. I have Trebal and Chaya for that."
"Well, then you need someone else, because they're clearly not doing the job," the girl smiled brazenly, running her palm across the man's chest in front of her.
"Larrin," Mikhail addressed her.
"Anything you say..."
"Get out."
"That's not exactly what I wanted to hear..."
* * *
"How is she?" Mikhail asked Celise.
The girl was busy taking readings from the medical equipment working on the unconscious Teyla.
"Stable," she reported, offering perhaps the only good news. "I managed to prevent secondary brain damage. I'm initiating regenerative procedures to speed up recovery. She's tough on her own, but the hemorrhages are putting pressure on the brain, so I'm dealing with them first to prevent complications."
"Has she regained consciousness?"
"No, I'm keeping her in a medically induced coma," Celise reported. "Natural metabolism is contraindicated for her right now; I've suspended all processes in her body. Including destructive ones. But this will prevent tissue necrosis, especially brain tissue. The injuries she sustained are very specific, and there's no standardized treatment procedure. The Ancients had little information about anything like this. Usually, their patients who suffered from Wraith mental influence simply died. The fact that her DNA is intact and that she had been strengthening her consciousness should have softened the blow. The only right decision now is to simply wait. And stimulate recovery while simultaneously promoting the elimination of harmful substances from the body."
"She wasn't ready for this," Mikhail said. "She never had any real practical training like in the series. No gradual exposure, everything at once..."
"The series?" Celise clarified.
Mikhail winced.
"Never mind," he advised. "It's... a term from my planet. Hard to explain what it is."
"Then no need," Celise smiled. "She'll be fine, I assure you."
Mikhail nodded silently.
"What about the people who were brought back?" he inquired, looking through the glass window at several patients in the ward with beds.
"Standard procedure," Celise said. "Recovery is progressing successfully. They pass the time by working while lying down. Writing programs, programming the crystals brought to them. Trying to be useful."
"Shouldn't they be resting?" Mikhail doubted.
"For them, this is rest," Celise explained, opening several diagrams on her computer. "See, when they're busy, their blood pressure stabilizes, their organs function normally, and their brain activity indicators are steady. The enzyme even breaks down a little better."
"Are you saying work is a joy for them?"
"I'm surprised myself," Celise admitted. "But I notice it in myself too — when you're busy, there's no reason to worry or anything else. Work calms you, keeps you focused... So they strive to keep doing it constantly. Rest is very irritating to them. It's simply amazing!"
"I suppose," Mikhail darkened. "Well, we're heading out on the mission. Take care of your patients. Chaya is in charge, so if anything happens..."
"Don't talk like that," the girl worried, blinking. "I prefer to think positively and believe that things will be, at the very least, not bad."
"A good life philosophy," Mikhail smirked.
Standing still, he took Teyla's hand and gently squeezed her fingers.
"Pull through, friend," he said in farewell. "We don't have a stabilizing element on the team like you. We really don't."