"Come on!"
"No."
"It's so simple!"
"I said no! It's humiliating!"
"What's humiliating about being properly served by a young and beautiful girl?"
I rolled my eyes, opening my mouth to explain how immoral and ambiguous it was to say such a thing...
And at that moment, the spoon was in my mouth. There was nothing else to do but swallow the contents. Well, it didn't taste like dinosaur shit.
"See, and you were afraid!" Fren's face showed genuine joy as she took the spoon out and scooped another portion of the mushy substance. "So-o-o, open your mouth, here comes a small Lantian ship with delicious and healthy porridge..."
"I'd rather have a plane," I sighed.
And I received another load of "delicious and healthy."
Well, damn it!
"And now..." Fren prepared the spoon again. "You need to eat quickly. For mom, for dad, for all the wraiths to die..."
"Woman, are you really taking care of me, or do you want to kill me?" I asked. If not from her shoving the spoon down my throat, then from shame I would surely die. And what was the reason?
Because you shouldn't expose yourself to the claws and teeth of a wraith! Not only does it damage the integrity of the body, but there are also all sorts of bacteria there. Ugh, disgusting! It's good that in this universe, tetanus shots can be replaced by radiation therapy.
Long, tedious, debilitating...
"I am not a woman," Fren said, lowering her head and pursing her lips.
"Give me the pulse pistol," a voice came from the next cot. "I'll shoot anyone who says otherwise."
"What are you talking about?" the adoptive daughter of Chaya frowned.
"That humans have only two genders – male and female," Trebal said, at the limit of her patience. "And if you say you're not a woman, you can only be a man. And I don't see any dangling... on you."
"Trebal!" I cut off the Dorandan. "She's just a child!"
"I'm not a child!" Fren supported, pouting.
"Yes, not a child," Trebal agreed. "But an adult and attractive young woman who should have found a genetically suitable partner long ago and started repopulating the Ancients.
"I'm not a walking incubator!" Fren flared up, jumping off the bed. Slamming the plate onto the bedside table, she looked at the woman with anger. "And don't try to fool me with your eugenics! The Lantians did it, and they all died! And I want to live for myself!"
This time, the child in the woman's body stuck out her tongue and almost ran out of the infirmary. It was good that the doors in Atlantis weren't on hinges, otherwise she would have certainly slammed it so hard that the plaster would have fallen off the concrete.
"Satisfied?" I asked Trebal.
"Ye-e-e-es," the Dorandan sprawled on the bed with pleasure and unconcealed smile, throwing her hands behind her head. "We have thirty minutes until she complains to Chaya. Then she'll come, give me a disapproving look, read a lecture about how times have changed, and leave. And no one will bother us for the rest of the day.
"Good plan," I approved, glancing at the plate. My stomach growled traitorously. It wasn't semolina, of course, but I had to eat. And after radiation therapy, even moving hurt. "Only who's going to feed us?"
"Didn't you have enough of those little Lantian ships with porridge?" Trebal laughed. "I'll see them in my nightmares."
"Those 'jumpers' with porridge aren't even a nightmare," I sighed. "But the Queen of Death..."
Fren's smile disappeared. The girl became serious, remembering the events of two days ago, and looked at me.
"Did you really crush her head with your bare hands?" she asked quietly.
"That's what they say," I recalled. "I don't remember anything after the hand-to-hand combat started... Some fragments... Blows, grimaces, everyone shouting at everyone... Like in a fog."
"You know," Trebal said quietly, "there are techniques for restoring memory from traumatic mental shock. If you want, I can tell you some..."
"I don't want to," I replied dryly. "Alvar said it was all blood, brains, and bone fragments. I'm not sure I want to remember what happened in that corridor. I'm afraid these episodes will haunt my nightmares. In Earth, they call it a state of affect, I think. The psyche protects itself from what it sees by blocking access to traumatic memories."
"Yes, there is such a protective reflex," Trebal agreed, looking at the ceiling. "I don't have that. I remember everything... Except for the times I was unconscious. And, you know, it was impressive."
"Thank you," I said dryly. "Can we change the subject?"
"You don't like hearing that you killed the Queen of Death?" Trebal asked, surprised.
"Let me remind you, I wasn't alone there."
"Yes," Trebal confirmed. "And she almost drained me... Like thousands of Lantians and other Ancients before me. If you had shot her, as I asked, you wouldn't be lying in a hospital bed."
"If I had shot her, as you asked, I might add, you probably wouldn't be lying here either."
"That's right," Trebal said quietly. "I wouldn't have lived to even arrive at Atlantis. You saved me."
"And you saved me," I reminded her. "Consider it even."
We hadn't touched on this topic until now. First, we were unconscious for a day while Selisa fought for our lives. Then, for another half-day, we lay like vegetables under a medical scanner, which was also a radiation emitter... Strength only started to return a few hours ago.
Moreover, judging by how Trebal was behaving and actively waving her limbs, she was clearly recovering faster. It seems Chaya said that Dorandans have a better metabolism, and therefore regeneration, than most other races, including even Lantians.
"No, we're not even," Trebal said. Firmly, decisively, as if she had decided to go to war. "Your action..."
"You know, it's time to change the subject. I don't like all these pleasantries. In situations like these, anyone would do the same."
And she clearly had a mental block about her near-death experience. God only knows how many times we could have died fighting that fury.
"Yes," Trebal smiled nervously. "Everyone. Of course."
Judging by her intonation, she clearly thought otherwise.
And I didn't like that either. Reflection doesn't suit her. Bitchiness – yes, but not self-flagellation.
I'll regret this, of course, but... It's time to revive the bitch.
"I just remembered that you promised something when you were begging me to regain consciousness."
"What are you talking about?" the girl became wary.
"Well, how could I forget," I grinned, feeling fertile ground for trolling. "Let me remember how it was?"
"Misha," Trebal's voice became threatening.
" 'I beg you, just don't die, best of the best! Come on, open your eyes, magnificent man! I can't live without you! Come to your senses...' " I distorted her real words shamelessly.
"What a biomass!" a small pillow flew at me. "I didn't say such epithets! I called you an asshole!"
"You had hypothermia," I laughed. "And anyway. You said something else at the end... Or rather, you didn't finish..."
Trebal turned pale.
"That didn't happen!" she said quickly.
"Caught you," I grinned. "After all, I didn't say a word about what was said, and you're already denying it."
Trebal shot me a malevolent glance.
"You must have misheard," she grumbled.
"You know, it's quite difficult to mishear when a beautiful girl says, 'I'll even give you a blowjob...'"
"I'll sort it out!" Trebal blurted out, cutting me off before I could finish my sentence the way it was supposed to sound. In my opinion, of course. "I wanted to sort out for you…"
"Socks?" I offered.
"Your uniform!" Trebal grumbled. "You live like a primitive, scattering everything around you!"
"I'm not scattering, I'm marking my territory," I clarified. "You know, some tribes on Earth build fences, or place totems of spirits they worship nearby. All to prevent villains from violating their borders."
"And how do scattered things relate to what you just said?" Trebal asked, bewildered.
"My people are more developed than primitive tribes that build totems," I explained. "We use things for that."
The Dorandan frowned, processing the information.
"Is this a joke?" she asked after a few minutes of thought.
"Two minutes and fifteen seconds," I calculated. "Quite long for someone who considers herself quite intelligent."
Another pillow flew at me.
Well, at least she's definitely not thinking about subtle matters anymore.
"Having fun?" Chaya asked, entering the infirmary and picking up Trebal's two pillows that lay near my cot. "Decided to set up a little nest here?"
"Yes, I decided to move closer so he could warm me on a cold, dark night," the Dorandan snorted.
"It seems he has no such desire," Chaya continued, playing on her nerves with the skill of a virtuoso violinist. "It's night now, quite dark, and you're lying all alone in your cot… Basically, as always."
Judging by Trebal's grumble, Chaya's verbal jabs had hit their mark. Hmm… Chaya is really good! Trebal can't stand to lose, but in a verbal duel between these two, the Proculucian is clearly the favorite.
"Celise said you'll be on your feet by dawn," Chaya said, delicately sitting on the cot at my feet. "The treatment was successful, we just need to consolidate the result and suppress the last triggers."
"Sounds great," I appreciated, nodding towards Trebal, who was lying with her back to us. "Her too?"
"She's practically healthy now," Chaya didn't even look at the Dorandan. "She just needs to rest. Unlike you, she doesn't require additional radiation."
"Good," I rejoiced. "Any news?"
Sar raised an eyebrow in surprise.
"Do you think anything new could have happened in two days?" she asked.
"When you're in charge, most likely," I admitted.
"And you can't argue with that," Chaya sighed, stroking my leg under the blanket. "You know me too well…"
"But not from the inside, as you hope," came from the next hospital bed. "Try coming to him at night, without your primitive dresses. You'll probably have more chances without them."
"Give it here," I reached for the pillow, but couldn't even move it a couple of centimeters. My body ached as if I'd had a hundred blood draws from a vein from head to toe, and they hadn't said "bend like this and hold until it heals." "Alright, forget it… Throw a pillow at her yourself."
"No," Chaya shook her head. "That would be an act of aggression. And we have a sort of truce."
An indignant snort came from Trebal. But she said nothing more.
"Is this some kind of peculiarity of your communication?" I asked. "Talking in someone's presence, pretending they're not there?"
"Cultural difference," Chaya shrugged.
"More like lack of culture," I corrected. "So, to business. What about the mobile drilling platform?"
"Aside from the damage it sustained during the battle, the installation is fine," Chaya switched to a businesslike tone. "The shield is containing the water from the breach, the damaged control has been restored by Ihaar and the technicians. All system checks are complete, so we'll be powering Atlantis from it soon."
"Can we repair the breach in the compartment?" I asked. The idea that only an ancient force field was preventing the ocean from flooding such a valuable installation didn't please me.
"In time," Chaya said. "The team of technicians that Ihaar sent there are currently studying the blueprints and preparing a defect report. Thanks to the workshops on Taranis, we'll be able to manufacture hull parts to seal the breach, but if the damage is more extensive than the destroyed plating, then it's a problem. It's possible we've lost this part of the platform as a docking bay."
Alright… No big deal, we have another one.
"Was the 'jumper' that the Queen sent into the ocean found?"
We don't have that many 'jumpers' to discard them at the first necessity. And even fewer working ones.
"Yes, but it's seriously damaged," Sar said. "We're still looking for the engines that were torn off during takeoff, but there's no guarantee we can reattach them and get the ship running again. For now, it's being towed by two other 'jumpers' to the lower bay at the North pier. As soon as it's delivered, technicians will inspect it more closely and make a decision."
"Either restore it or dismantle it for parts," I voiced the only prospects I could think of.
"Most likely the latter," Chaya sighed. "The ship was open, it lay at the bottom of the ocean for almost two days. Seawater is not good for technologies based on crystals."
"EMP generator?"
"It's fine," Chaya said. "Except that Ihaar made a few mistakes and the circuit burned out under prolonged stress. Now, to start it, we'll have to build a new one."
"Hmm… Are you sure you understood the meaning of 'fine' correctly? It sounds like it's not fine at all."
"The power source is intact," Sar repeated. "And the EMP emitter… Fortunately, we won't need rare metals to build a new one."
"That's good to hear," well, from that point of view, the installation is indeed "fine." "The cruiser… The Queen didn't manage to activate self-destruct, did she?"
"No, she didn't," Chaya confirmed. "But the organic power source wasn't in the best condition even before that. And your projectile finished it off. The hull and internal systems are in pretty good condition. My generator has now been connected as a power source on board. Tayla and a couple of technicians are working on the systems. Surprisingly, the Wraiths were able to replicate the Lantians' technology for recognizing a specific genetic signature. On their level, of course. But it's impressive."
"Impressive?" I repeated. "Wait, are you saying you've never worked with Wraith technology before?"
"No," Trebal's voice came. "The self-destruct systems on board their ships and ours are not just for show. They blew themselves up during the war to avoid capture. Hive ships, cruisers, shuttles, 'arrows,' soldiers, and even queens – self-destruct systems everywhere."
"Then we need to learn even more about what's in the communiqué that the 'Aurora' was carrying to Atlantis," I decided, looking at Chaya. "Were you able to break the encryption?"
"Unfortunately, no," she said sadly. "Apparently, the data was intended solely for Moros, as it's encrypted with programs based on random and adaptive defense generation. The message reacts to every intrusion attempt with adequate countermeasures. And each time it becomes harder to break through the defense. Only the correct password can disable them. Otherwise, the data will be destroyed."
"And Tribune Titus's code doesn't work?"
"It was precisely after using it that the message moved into the defense category: 'If you try to hack again, I'll self-destruct'," Chaya explained. "We copied the message twice to work without fear of destroying the original… But it didn't help. And now the message has also implemented copy protection."
"Is this definitely not artificial intelligence?" I doubted.
"More like something similar to more advanced programming of onboard computers," Chaya said. "In any case, it's a dead end for now. Perhaps we'll find the necessary passwords by hacking Moros's files… But that will take time. A lot of time."
"I see," I nodded. Another suitcase without a handle. "But, since we have a whole Wraith cruiser in our hands, we can learn a lot about their technologies ourselves, can't we?"
"That's precisely why I ordered it to be studied. Even if Tayla doesn't like that only she can activate the key systems, the fact remains – without her on board, there will be no results."
"Can we lift the ship into orbit?" I asked. "A Wraith cruiser is quite a valuable thing, you know. Considering we only have one ship, and it's under repair."
"It will require a very powerful energy source to get the starship off the bottom," Chaya said after a couple of seconds of thought. "It's two-thirds embedded in the silt, so we'll either have to clear it, or give the cruiser a lot of energy so it can do it itself."
"Good thing we have a drill, isn't it?" I chuckled. "It will provide the necessary energy if we power both the city and the ship from it?"
"Not for reaching orbit, though," Chaya warned. "But as an external power source for the duration of the work on studying the ship and its systems… Yes, it's quite suitable."
"Speaking of systems," it clicked in my head. "The cruiser should carry 'arrows,' possibly scout ships, shuttles. Do we have any of these?"
"Several 'arrows'," Chaya confirmed my guesses. "We're studying them… Each one has an analogue of our 'jumpers'' boarding device, but gene recognition technology is absent there. But you obviously didn't mean that, did you? Not the study?"
"Not just the study," I corrected. "Since 'arrows' don't need Wraith genes to activate and control them, then… Our people can fly them, right? Not even necessarily the Ancients."
"Are you serious?" Trebal, ceasing to be offended like a little girl, turned to us. Her face was a jumble of expressions – from bewilderment to irritation. And a little bit of a desire to beat someone up properly. "You want our people to fly Wraith 'arrows'?"
"I don't see anything wrong with that," I admitted. "We have 'jumpers,' but they're not the fastest craft in the small aircraft league. Not to mention that the number of working ones just decreased by one, and there's no factory nearby to produce them."
"There were no factories for producing technology," Trebal reminded me. "Everything necessary was assembled manually and…"
"That's what I'm talking about," I said, interrupting her. "We don't have enough 'jumpers' for an open fight with the Wraiths. And they can grow their ships like the Athosians grow melons in a field. Besides, we have a limited supply of ammunition for 'jumpers,' cities, and the 'Hippaphoralkus.' We have nowhere to get new ones, as you yourself noted. And the 'arrows' have energy cannons: all they need to fire is working mechanisms and a power source. Moreover, we have wreckage of Ermen MLA. We can study them and possibly assemble our own version of fighters. Not as complex as 'jumpers,' but quite decent for space combat with Wraith 'arrows.' And to understand their vulnerabilities, we should study the fighters of our most dangerous enemy. Not that we're quarreling with the Wraiths, but these guys will grab us by the throat as soon as they get the chance. Not to mention that the Wraiths are less aggressive towards the appearance of 'arrows' on their planets than towards 'jumpers.' In the worst case, if the ship is shot down, the pilot can always tell a story about serving another hive, not Atlantis. Of course, if the pilot isn't an Ancient."
The girls exchanged glances.
I swear, I don't understand their relationship. One moment they're ready to tear each other's internal organs out verbally, staging sarcastic duels and trying to cheat each other.
But as soon as the conversation turns to something important, something that concerns all of us, they skillfully forget that five minutes ago they were figuratively dragging each other by the mane and are now communicating without words.
"There's logic in those words," Trebal admitted, to my surprise. Chaya nodded in agreement. "Alvar, it seems, was a pilot in his homeland in the past."
"That's exactly who I thought of first," I said. "And also that the 'arrows' have beams for collecting prey and its reverse materialization. A convenient thing to ambush Wraiths, collect them with a beam without engaging in combat, leave through the gate, and land where we'll be waiting for them on our terms. On Proculus, for example. Besides, in the events I know of, when materializing from 'arrows,' people lost consciousness for a while. But the Wraiths, of course, don't, but… Ladies, seriously, I just generated an idea, you should figure out how to use it. I'm all for using any resources we have. We're not in a position to wrinkle our noses and say: 'We have technologies that the enemy has no analogues of, so we'll build a fleet of super-battleships and give them a thrashing.'"
"But Lantians' technologies at our disposal are indeed superior to anything in this galaxy," Chaya said. Meeting my gaze, she smiled guiltily. "But what difference does it make how much better we are in technology if we don't have enough of it, right?"
"Not to mention that we can't reproduce all of the Lantians' technologies," Trebal sighed, leaning back on the cot. "And why do I feel, Sar, that this particular man is not as simple as he seems? I'll bet that he didn't want the Wraith cruiser so much, didn't want to kill the Queen of Death so much, and didn't even want to get the energy source, as much as the Wraith 'arrows'."
The Proculucian looked at me with a slight squint.
"You know, I had the same thought," she said. "His reasoning sounds as if he had thought everything through long ago."
"Guilty," I admitted. "Tayla said that the Jenai conflict with those who allegedly violate trade agreements with them. And then suddenly, on the planets of these guys, punitive detachments appear. And recently they made a claim against the Athosians."
The fact that on New Athos, with the help of Lantians' technologies, they managed to cultivate and obtain a better variety of the beans that the Jenai trade in, didn't make the Athosians bad people. After all, it's simple competition. The problem was that the Jenai didn't intend to compete with anyone.
Having taken information from Ermen, they clearly gained confidence and decided that while the Wraiths were not very active, it would be good to strengthen their positions. To dominate, not cooperate. To conquer or intimidate – it doesn't matter much from their point of view.
And, to be completely honest with myself, the Jenai's actions are not so different from what is happening on Earth. The strong devour or make satellites of the weak.
The Ancients are not paragons of righteous behavior here either, and… To be frank. Humans are the product of the Ancients' labor. Created in their image and likeness, so it's not surprising that all the shit they could pass on to their descendants manifests itself.
That's human nature, probably. Or we are all primitive enough not to be able to solve our problems with our brains. Why long conversations, if you can shorten the time and get what you want with weapons and elimination of competitors?
We are all quite assholes. And the Athosians, and the Jenai, and the Ancients, and the Lantians. As well as the Wraiths, Asurans, Orai, and everyone else. It's just that everyone is an asshole in their own way and at their own level of development.
"Smells like a plan," Trebal chuckled. "Let me guess – you want to lure a Jenai punitive detachment to Athos, pretend they were gathered by Wraiths, and then unload them on Proculus and let Koschei feast on them?"
"And thereby give him more strength to resurrect even more Ancients," Chaya added.
"It's a working theory," I admitted. "We lost one technician and fifteen Athosian soldiers in a battle with just one Queen. And on our own territory. We also lost a working 'jumper,' the platform is damaged and requires repair. Only technicians can do it."
"And we can't trust the Athosians," Trebal added. "Who knows why they decided to break the plan and go kill Death? Although it was foreseen. But… No, I'm sorry, by what right did they decide they could do it better than us?"
"I have a few unsubstantiated theories," the Proculucian said quietly.
"Yes, and I have a few," I admitted. "Considering that Death only took one Athosian under control out of all we've seen, I doubt she brainwashed all of them."
"The suppression equipment is working," Trebal added. "Even though it couldn't break us with its mental attack, I felt pressure on my brain. It managed to anticipate some of my blows… Due to its mental strength or perhaps I was just predictable, we'll never know."
"We need to talk to Tayla," I decided. "If her people suddenly decided to rebel and thought that with the weapons and technologies they were given, they are now cooler than boiled eggs and have the right to swim in fountains on August 2nd, then either we remind them: what we gave, we can take back, or we say goodbye and find food suppliers among more adequate guys."
"We could resettle the people from Epheon to the continent," Chaya suggested. "Those who want to, of course. But they'll be fine on Lantea. Long-range sensors will allow us to detect most dangers in time."
"Or on Taranis," Trebal suggested. "The planet is large, it has a lot of land that the Taranian don't use. In case of danger, we can always raise the shield."
"There are many options," I summarized. "But we all agree that the Athosians are not as good soldiers as we thought. Maybe they can defend their own world properly, but we can no longer count on them for offense."
"As well as relying solely on them for food supplies," Trebal said. "I would suggest increasing aid in agriculture to the children and Taranian."
"There aren't enough of them to feed everyone," Chaya noted. "It takes a lot of time to clear the fields, plant seeds, take care of the harvest. To finally gather it."
"Then we need to start as soon as possible, don't we?" Trebal chuckled. "For now, we don't need to tell the Athosians that we are so dissatisfied with them that we are ready to cut off all ties, but… Even if we eliminate the cause of the rebellion of these fifteen, even if the rest are not involved, it's better to anticipate the possibility that they will one day turn against us."
"Completely agree," I said. "You know… I remembered an episode. Somewhere in the city there is a laboratory where the Ancients observed developing civilizations. Using orbital observation satellites, they saw everything that was happening on the planets, then gave instructions through their equipment…"
"Typical observation of potential younger races," Trebal shrugged. "Lantians did that for millennia. When observation was no longer needed and the race had developed, they removed the satellites from orbit."
"Except I don't remember them helping anyone develop," Chaya squinted. "To the point of contact – never. Are you sure about what you're saying, Mikhail?"
"Completely," I confirmed. "You know, my memory is getting better and better every day. I recall many things quite clearly that I hardly ever remembered well. For example," I nodded towards Trebal, but Chaya ignored it as if she hadn't noticed, "how to perform artificial respiration for a drowning person."
"So that's it," the Dorandan said sarcastically. "And I thought you decided to take advantage of my still warm body and touch it… Sar, you know he groped me and kissed me when I choked?"
"For the first forty minutes after brain death, a woman is still warm," the Proculucian remarked in an innocent tone. "So, I don't see anything reprehensible in that. Although, if I were you, I'd think – why does he come to my bed at night when I'm alive, and only pays attention to you when you're dying. I don't think it's a sexual preference disorder…"
"Get out," I interrupted the girls' next spat. "Your insinuations are ceasing to be funny."
"Insinuations?" Trebal was surprised. A slight confusion appeared on Chaya's face. "Misha, we're flirting, actually. Although, you're primitive, you wouldn't understand… Chaya… These attempts of his to move from his spot, is that what I'm thinking about?"
"Yes," Sar sighed sadly. "He wants to escape from us."
"Naive," Trebal burst out laughing. "No, Misha. You saved the girls – you bear responsibility for us. And anyway, hold him, Sar! To hell with social conventions, it's time to restore the population!"
Chaya put her palm to her face.
"Oh, atomic bonds, tell me you're joking. Trebal, that's actually low and immoral!"
"Sar, unlike you, I was almost drained by a Wraith! I lay in stasis for ten thousand years, absorbed Wraith enzymes twice! And, in the end, we have a debt to the restoration of the Ancient race," Trebal said with a laugh, slowly getting out of bed. Although she had more strength than me, not enough for everything to happen very quickly.
"Don't drag me into your sadomasochistic games!" I roared, trying to move at least my arm. "Your thoughts are criminally punishable, you damn psychopaths!"
"Why are you shouting?" Selise asked, appearing in the infirmary. "Mikhail, you can be heard on the entire floor."
"I need a private room!" I demanded. "And some grenades to make booby traps!"