The dielectric itself was something like silicone—it was also used to protect the bottoms of loose rounds not loaded into magazines or clips on storage. All this did honor to the perished people—they really prepared so their weapons could lie dormant for a long time and be used decades later.
There was little metal in automatic rifles, pistols, and other 'small arms'—only key elements. Casing, foregrip, stock, handle, even magazines, sighting devices, adjustment screws, mounts for 'attachments'—all from dielectric polymer. So durable that without great effort, even a local knife couldn't leave scratches or nicks.
Interesting material. The more I learn about local industry products, the more respect it evokes. Yes, I suspect neither they nor their ancestors invented it themselves, but still! This is colossal progress. Later I'll test this polymer for resistance to energy weapons. If test results are attractive, this material can be used everywhere.
Meanwhile, the adequacy of Atlantis's builders raises big questions for me. The thing is, the city-ship's load-bearing structures, its foundation, are made of several types of metals. But the 'skyscrapers'... Their casings and floors are like reinforced concrete I saw. Yes, lighter than metal of similar thickness and density, yes strength corresponding to tasks, and airtightness, but... Metal fatigue isn't canceled.
Atlantis is several million years old. Yes, it was rebuilt and repaired, but... The last ten thousand years, millions of tons pressed on the metal foundation. No wonder some metal structures simply buckled and deformed.
But these are distant plans unlikely to come true in my lifetime. So, priority was supplying the city and its inhabitants with everything the perished civilization could share.
First, I was interested in small arms and bladed weapons. Chaya asked the reason for such choice when I delivered the fourth 'Jumper', stuffed full of weapons and ammo. The latter I generously scattered into lockers, each holding a whole crate; I unloaded rifles and pistols right on top of lockers, cargo hold floor, and pilot cabin, hanging them on seat backs with included straps.
"We have pulse blasters," Chaya noted when I delivered another batch of weapons to Atlantis. This, by the way, exhausted all the 'small arms' in that storage. But no time to relax—neighboring room-storages ahead with gear, footwear, equipment, medical supplies, and so on. I might even haul a dynamo machine from there. We don't need it, of course, but Athosians will. Put one in the settlement center, dig in a dozen poles around the perimeter, run wiring, plug in borrowed bulbs—and voila, comfort. Not to mention that Jensen's kin have analogs of our diesel generators. Though fuel barrels need delivery too. And there are about a hundred barrels—I peeked into their storage room. Each about two hundred liters, can't haul many at once. Not to mention no loaders there. Only by muscle power.
"Yes, we do," I agreed, eyeing the next 'Jumper' I'd take to the ruins. Logically, after loading the previous four 'Jumpers', I could barely feel my muscles. And unloading them at all didn't appeal. At least while there are flyable empty machines. "But throughout the city, in the areas we entered, we found only about a dozen. And half need servicing and repair. We have spare power crystals for them, and in combat they're destructive and deadly. But I think the Wraith will easily detect the connection between their killed soldiers with burned holes in bodies and Lantean weapons. No need to illuminate our presence in the galaxy even more than already happened."
On the fifth 'flight', I transported all the gear, ammo, and other equipment stock from that storage to Atlantis. Including coils with a couple kilometers of that very wire that saved Alvar from Runner life.
What to say? Now we have at least a huge size range of boots very like combat boots, but from fabrics and polymer that withstand knife strikes. In those, you definitely won't pierce a foot with a rusty nail walking ash heaps.
I understand what Jensen meant asking about camouflage. There were about ten types in that storage—very like Earth variants not only in pattern formation but even coloring. There were solid color sets too—black, dark gray, gray, dark green, and other colors. Without insignia, but with places for attaching patches and chevrons. Though not familiar 'Velcro', more like sticky bases on soundproofing sheets: peel off protective layer and stick whatever. I tried for interest attaching a sheath cover to a couple 'mounting spots'... Already after half an hour couldn't tear it off the once sticky place. And I tried hard.
But I think they're not for that, as such 'sticky spots' are scattered over camos from torso to legs. They were present, besides uniforms, on nearly every gear or protection element.
Helmets, backpacks with spine-friendly backs, ballistic glasses with decent dimming and night vision device, pouches, load-bearing vests, knee, elbow, shoulder protection, polymer body armor... I doubt the latter will protect from Wraith stunners, but what's stopping testing when opportunity arises? Preferably acquire Wraith weapons without the Wraith.
However, small tests showed that at close and medium range, protective elements hold large-caliber bullets from Ermen gunsmiths. No desire to test behind-armor effect on myself, but I think the camo suits aren't just with porous but resilient material lining for nothing.
At first, bewilderment from armor elements, pouches, and attached pockets that if they had fastening-adjustment straps, only one. Then I realized 'sticky spots' were suspiciously near additional element mounting places. And everything fell into place—'spots' for attachment, straps for adjusting press to body parts.
I don't understand why Ermen residents used polymer so little in protection, but suspect it's, though widely used, still not cheap. And covering a fighter head to toe in armor is some logic. On the other hand, all vital areas covered.
Having such uniforms pleased me greatly. I immediately picked a full set, equipped it at my discretion and reason. And must say, well designed. Comfortable, doesn't restrict movement, quite light... I suspect this wonder-polymer that Ermen gunsmiths used for weapons and protection would come in handy in homeland armed forces.
And what couldn't fail to please was quite familiar zippers, pockets, and pouches on 'buttons'. No futuristic magnetic rivets or similar tech zippers. Simple, cheap, angry, and most importantly for army supply—quite cheap to produce.
Yes, I didn't refuse the personal shield, hiding it in the breast pocket of the gray-blue suit I chose for everyday wear. One thought—and shield activates, sticking to fabric and pressing to my body. Convenient, damn it: won't lose in closed pocket, and always usable, always 'at hand', so to say.
I smiled when in one gear crate I dug up a balaclava-like from stretch fabric material. Unlikely to save from bullet or knife, but from identification, wind, sand, dust—quite suitable. 'Mask show' of Pegasus galaxy, seems, familiar. Or will become over time.
Example of Ermen infantry gear. Picture from the Internet.
My changing clothes nearly cost me my life when on the fifth flight I returned to the Jumper bay, flung open the aft hatch, and headed through piles of most needed to the ship exit, when I saw Chaya. The girl was rummaging in the contents of my previous 'Jumper', interestedly examining a firearm pistol. Already loaded with magazine, by the way.
My appearance in full combat gear led to unexpected consequences. As soon as I stepped from shadow and called her, realizing the membrane balaclava fabric distorts my voice, a shot thundered.
In past life, a couple times bullets hit body armor. Got off with broken ribs and bruises.
But there's a nuance.
Ermen gunsmiths' round caliber—ten millimeters, nearly machine-gun. And bullets of various shapes, but looking at what they become after hitting target, no desire to encounter them.
Expansive bullets, substantially increasing diameter after hitting target, not something to test on self. Even if you have body armor from super-strong alien polymer. I think Wraith with enviable regeneration also wouldn't particularly want to feel 'roses' of metal inside themselves.
"Subspace interference, Mikhail!" an frightened face of Chaya appeared above me, pulling off my helmet and balaclava. "Why are you dressed like that⁈"
Blinking a couple times, I realized I was lying on the bay floor. And just seconds ago I was firmly on my feet.
My chest hurt so much I couldn't breathe right away. Thanks to the Proculian lifting my head, I looked at the chest plate. Not penetrated, but must admit, the 'super-strong' material test failed. The plate at heart area where bullet hit was covered in cracks but didn't lose overall shape.
"Lie down, I'll scan," Chaya pulled out an Ancient scanner from somewhere, extracted a thin white glowing strip from the back wall connected to main part by transparent wire, and began running it over me—from head to toe.
I had no words to comment the situation, even thoughts flew somewhere.
"Minor bruise," she said with a sigh of relief, helping me sit. "Why did you put this on? I didn't recognize you not in usual attire!"
"You're lucky I don't shoot when you change clothes," I coughed out. "You should be in the lab! Analyzing data!"
"Practically finished, conversion left," Chaya helped me to my feet. "Head not spinning? No double vision? Pain in occiput?"
"No, I'm fine," taking a step aside, I nearly crashed, but the girl caught me by the arm in time. "I suppose for reconciliation, you just need to shoot me..."
"Primate!" Chaya grimaced. Yes, calling a human 'primate' or 'primitive' among Ancients is an insult. Actually, on Earth you can get punched for saying your interlocutor is a monkey. What an intelligent curse... Darwin would appreciate. "What if I shot in the head?"
"Then I'd rack my brains in context of consequences," leaning on the 'Jumper's entry hatch, I spent seconds coming to. Unpleasant sensations—like hammered in chest with sledgehammer. Unclipping the chest plate, I unbuttoned the jacket, looked around... N-da, bruise will be something, but no fractures. In principle, quite normal ratio of defensive and offensive technologies. If only plates didn't crack... Though, unlikely Ermen residents thought they'd use weapons against their own. Quite likely these body armors perfectly hold shots from smaller caliber firearms. Well, Wraith weapons don't kill at all—poking holes in food just spoils it.
"I'm very sorry," Chaya said. "You could've at least warned..."
"I'm warning," I said honestly. "For the next body armor test, you wear it. And I'll take the rifle. Sniper one. Seems its bullet is larger caliber."
"Is that a joke?"
"Put on armor and step back," I advised, buttoning the jacket. Nothing, I'll live. Flipping the plate, I saw the crack only on outer layer. Inner intact, not even dent at impact site. Miracles, however. Considering local Pegasus population mostly have bows-crossbows or 5-6 millimeter firearms, protection from natives is excellent quality.
"I'm very sorry it happened this way," Chaya repeated. "I came here to fly to Ermen with you."
"Decided to help load medical supplies and canned food?" I was surprised, striding to the next unloaded 'Jumper' in queue. Exactly such goals I set for subsequent 'flights'.
Chaya moved silently like a tail. Exactly until I suggested she change into more suitable clothes for climbing ruins. The girl, obviously still upset about her actions, silently ran to the just parked 'Jumper'. I went to the new one.
"Well, no couple hours waiting for me to pick combat boots matching eye color," I sighed, starting the ship minutes later. Not that I planned to take her in principle, just tried to estimate if I had strength for another couple 'runs'. Suspect for today it's enough, so time to seal the hatch...
"Thanks for waiting," Chaya settled into the co-pilot seat. Dressed in same gray-blue uniform, in combat boots laced, not just tied through two middle loops, she 'zipped' the jacket zipper up to the neck. "Sometimes it's worth going out together."
"You'd better put the pistol aside," I advised. Somehow my plan to use personal shield in moment of danger didn't burn bright—I didn't even think of it in time.
"I put it on safety," the girl assured as I finished dialing Ermen's Gate address and lowered the ship to Gate level. "You can not worry—Teyla and Alvar reported staying on Athos until tomorrow. The Gate shield will activate automatically as soon as we leave."
"And you're sure you turned everything off?" I asked, still not understanding why she 'dropped on tail'. "Iron there, curler, epilator, alien probe..."
"Why are you asking this?" Chaya asked.
"Just don't want to return in couple hours to burned hut..."
"I provided for everything," the girl assured seconds before we flew into the 'puddle' of the Gate.
After slipping out the other side, I directed the ship along the familiar route.
"Spill it," I asked. "Any news on our finds?"
"A little," Chaya admitted, clearly glad we'd moved to talks of important. "The probe you brought belongs to the Sekkari race. It's one of the few silicon-based life forms in Pegasus. Unfortunately, they perished about forty thousand years ago—even Atlantis database has no exact info on them."
"Sekkari?" I asked again. "Not 'Sikari'?"
"No, translation accurate," seems memory failed me on details. "Lanteans contacted them, exchanged knowledge, offered alliance. But Sekkari were isolationists. And as database states, 'paths of Universe cognition were similar for us, but differed in methods and goals, making joint research impossible'."
"Did Lanteans kill them?"
"No, what are you. They were just forgotten. Lanteans learned Sekkari extinct only during Wraith war, when one ship retreated to their planet. Turned out their experiments made planet uninhabitable, so race perished. But I suppose they constructed these probes to seed other worlds."
"Why didn't they use Stargates to leave the planet?" I was interested.
"Database has no mentions of them at all. Suspect their planet couldn't have Stargates at all— that's why Ancients didn't discover Sekkari at start of their path."
As an option. Hypothesis no worse than any other.
"And spacecraft?"
"Unfortunately, they didn't master interstellar travel. Likely interested only in near space and their own world. No details, and unlikely we'll ever learn particulars."
"Well, why not. Remember, probe has all info on this race, and artificial intelligence," I recalled.
"Oh," Chaya exclaimed. "Your future knowledge again?"
"Again it," I confirmed. "So what with these data and AI? Remember it was quite advanced."
"On Ermen data carriers I found curious info," Chaya continued. "Jensen's people ancestors discovered the probe and over several generations accessed its information. This allowed qualitative tech leap in various areas. But by then Wraith already active in galaxy. Race nearly fully exterminated, as were their achievement objects."
"But they hid their labors in undergrounds."
"And then storages discovered by Alvar's direct ancestors," Chaya continued. "I think they were descendants of miraculously surviving representatives of previous human civilization. Because they quickly figured out storage info."
"Developed, prepared, but later Wraith came," I lowered the 'Jumper' into the pit and began turn. "Wheel of Fortune turned again. But don't you find they got too little knowledge from encyclopedia of whole race that even interested Ancients."
"They extracted all they could from probe," Chaya said sadly. "Damaged significant data part, including AI. I found inside probe traces of repair attempts, however..."
"They only made it worse?" I clarified, backing the 'Jumper' stern first into the tunnel.
"Yes. Alvar's people ancestors got mere crumbs of knowledge but used them. Then their descendants used their developments."
"So we have full database of Jensen's people?" I inquired.
"That's why I'm here," Chaya admitted. "Significant data part damaged and irrecoverable. But some hard drives still contain interesting data we can use for our purposes. However... I still hope there are other info storages—at least records say Ermens fragmented knowledge into profile databases scattered across all undergrounds. I found mention of standard distribution schemes for such storages. Each city had one main and about ten secondary data storages. Broken by profile—aviation, weapons, industry, energy, and so on. Don't think we'll find much new or anything. Ermens couldn't create durable to external impacts data accumulators. Two or three thousand years passed... Their chronicles very fragmentary. But I think if we find at least other 'damaged' databases of previous civilization, we can recover more data. Including historical chronicle."
"Wait," I interrupted the girl. "You mean servers created not by Jensen's compatriots, but previous version of Ermens?"
"Yes," Chaya said. "Jensen's kin and direct ancestors just used these data. Understood some, developed some themselves. But superiority over predecessors they couldn't achieve—they fully explored space, even built interstellar state from colonies and allies across Pegasus. But Wraith woke and destroyed those posing threat to them..."
Something clicked in my head.
Interstellar state from colonies and allies. Sounds very familiar. Seems someone parodied Ancients.
Well, on the other hand, who to take example from? From people who surpassed you in everything, of course. And Ancients clearly out of competition.
"Need to ask Teyla if among her acquaintances or trade partners there's anyone heard of this Ermen confederation," I suggested. "I think Wraith couldn't destroy all of them. Someone possibly survived or hid well. Since they had interstellar confederation, likely similar servers on other planets too."
"Possibly," Chaya agreed. "Though I don't particularly hope. I'm more interested in local mechanisms and tech remnants."
"For what purpose?"
"When you said using firearms best way to mask our Lantean origin, I thought our recon drones are also 'signature'," Chaya explained as the 'Jumper' reached fork. I finally released engines and let antigrav charge with energy.
"By the way, yes," thinking, I agreed. "While Wraith have nothing concrete. Only single case writable off as accident. But if Lantean design probes fly through Gates, then time to think of new crusade on Atlantis. And not far to full awakening of all Wraith in galaxy."
"That's why I wanted to assemble several recon drone analogs from local tech," Chaya explained. "Also for masking our affiliation. Lantean production drones too effective and valuable to expend that way. With them I can do much more for Atlantis directly in our home system."
Sending Lantean probes on missions, one way or another, can run into Wraith and get back scrap. Or nothing but conspiracy breach. And if Lantean tech pity, then local...
"Excellent idea," I agreed. "But we'll need plenty local scrap metal to invent something worthwhile."
"Agree. But first need to search this planet for energy databases. I found mentions of compact reactor that can greatly help us."
"ZPM analog?" I asked doubtfully.
"No," Chaya shook head. "Not close. But it can help launch 'Satellite'."
"How?"
"I sent one recon drone to inspect it. Wraith didn't destroy satellite because it posed no threat to them. During assault they damaged generator—drone fixed it literally melted. However, thanks to energy buffering tech, any decent power source, e.g. nuclear reactor if compact size, can power satellite. I have several thoughts on rebuilding it and making more efficient. But problem it's far from Lantea, and we have no other power sources besides single battery."
"ZPM," I prompted. "Let's call it that?"
"What changes?" Chaya asked. "ZPM, battery, zero-point energy extraction device..."
"ZZEED," I folded first letters. "No, better ZPM. Sounds more authoritative. Word 'battery' evokes associations with heating radiators from my world."
"No difference for me," Chaya shrugged.
"You're suspiciously benevolent," I doubted. "Teyla didn't bite you for sure?"
"...How can that even connect?" Chaya was surprised. "One living being's qualities can't affect another via bite. My physiology more developed than hers, so my genetics dominate in conflict..."
"Let me tell you story of how several ancient humans bitten by 'Irus' bugs, and those years later turned into Wraith?" I suggested, lowering 'Jumper' near corridor entrance with things interesting us.
"Thanks," Chaya laughed quietly. "After such stories hard to sleep. Especially if you describe in all details process of bugs absorbing human genetic features and evolutionary changes of Irus bugs to Wraith."
Seems she softened toward me after all. Great chance to mend relations with Ancient prone to offense at others' reticence.
Eh, like higher race, but such human snot at 'primate' level. Good we not couple, or she'd get jealous of Teyla and goodbye Athosians.
Lowering 'Jumper's ramp, I estimated. Earth women in revenge to men smashed their cars, burned them, drew obscenities, threw out things and other small wonders.
And what jealous Ancient do? Blow star system where ex lives? Erupt supervolcano under new passion's feet? Drop asteroid on planet? Collapse star into black hole?
"Mikhail," puzzled voice of Chaya reached from pilot cabin. "Life detector..."
Before ramp fully lowered, I already understood what she wanted to say. Rushing to tiny control panel, I pressed emergency bulkhead closing key separating pilot and cargo compartments of 'Jumper'.
Figures hiding in corridor twilight noticed my movements and opened fire.
Blinding shots rang out and I was thrown back.
And then—darkness.
***
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