As soon as I stepped onto the balcony, Larrin shivered from the cold reigning outside the city.
"A good way to make me get dressed," even the slightest hints of the friendliness and politeness she had so carefully cultivated just minutes ago disappeared from her voice.
"Well, I'll be," I chuckled, walking to the railing and leaning on it. "I never thought this method would work."
"I bet one of your women suggested it over the comms," the Nomad said, standing next to me and pulling on her jacket. Not a hint of a fake smile, no suggestion of flirtation. Cold pragmatism. It seemed the expression "clear your head" had found a real justification. "If it's not a secret, which one of them: the one with the killer's gaze or the one sickeningly polite?"
"You don't believe I'm capable of deciphering a little flirtation game?" I said, a little disappointed.
"I believe in mathematics, mutually beneficial cooperation, and that you have what we need," the lady said, leaning on the railing with her left hand. Positioned half-sideways and mirroring me, she looked directly into my eyes.
"What a coincidence," I smiled. "I wanted to tell you the same thing."
"Let's be honest, Mikhail," she said, her expression turning serious. "I don't believe you are the Ancients. More likely a group of travelers who stumbled upon this city and managed to learn how to control it. And you have no right to the legacy of the Ancients, including the battleship you, as I understood from your killer-gazed friend's story, already know about."
"It's clear you and Trebal have developed a mutual sympathy," I chuckled.
"I'll bet my ship that right now she's climbing the walls and figuring out how to get rid of me," Larrin said carelessly. "You can check – just contact her and ask a couple of questions. I suspect she won't lie to you – she's not that kind of breed."
"And you understand people's breeds?" I clarified.
A meaningless, clearly pointless conversation about nothing.
It might have seemed that way from the outside. But this was bravado, created specifically to test the negotiation style that each side would use.
Larrin stated her position directly and without embellishment – they wouldn't give up the ship. And she wasn't going to negotiate on this issue. In fact, she was going to reject any offer to lead the negotiations to a dead end.
Why would she quarrel with us?
She said it directly – she didn't believe we were the Ancients. Therefore, she didn't believe there would be consequences for the Nomads from this kind of negotiation. Well, and she had something else in reserve.
"Life has taught me," she said. "It's not easy to survive in open space if you don't understand the value of the people around you."
"Beautiful words," I agreed. "Then, I think, we won't have any misunderstandings."
"We desperately need this ship," she continued to push her agenda. "I perfectly understand what data you could have extracted from Fry. And you must understand – this ship is a solution to our problem."
"Only a postponement," I clarified, taking a scanner from my inner pocket. "How much time will pass before you fill this battleship with your own kind? Five years? Ten?"
"Without it, we won't have a single day," she said, glancing at me as I pressed the screen. "Our fleet is old, and we have no possibility to build new ships. Nor to properly repair the existing ones. We need this ship for survival."
"Your logic is understandable," I nodded. "The question is different. Why should we give you a fully functional ship of my people, built by our ancestors to fight the Wraiths?"
"You can call yourselves Ancients as much as you want, but…" she fell silent when she saw me put a finger to my lips.
"No need to speak loudly," I asked. "You might scare them away."
"What are you talking about?" she frowned.
With a gesture, I beckoned her closer and pointed to the scanner's display:
"Do you understand what this is?"
She looked at the display, frowning.
Her confusion was understandable. After all, all she saw were five white dots and two red ones. Not the most informative image, of course.
"No."
"You have touch screens, don't you?" I asked, already knowing the answer. The girl nodded affirmatively, not understanding where this was going.
Handing her the device, I said, "Press the dots. Oh, no, don't take it in your hands – it won't work for you. I understand it's inconvenient, but what can you do? I'm not going to demonstrate this to the duty shift on the big screen, am I?"
Larrin followed the instructions.
Her face showed no emotion as she pressed each of the white dots in turn. The four schematic images of "jumpers" did not impress her. When it came to the fifth dot, which expanded into the battleship "Hippaphoralkus" upon pressing, she tensed noticeably.
It took her just one press of the red dot to understand the meaning of what I was showing her.
"Two of our ships surrounded by five of yours," she raised her eyes from the monitor, looking at me with calmness but wariness. "I assume this is data from the orbit of Athos?"
"You won't be mistaken with such a guess," I assured her, putting the device away.
"Negotiations at gunpoint?" she smiled wryly.
"Let's not play the role of offended innocence," I suggested. "If you had the opportunity to capture one of us to uncover the secret of controlling a Lantian warship, you wouldn't stand on ceremony and bargain. First, you'd beat him up thoroughly to show that you're not to be trifled with, then you'd demonstrate your readiness to negotiate, and then you'd force him to activate the ship to try to create a hybrid control analog."
The girl, after thinking, chuckled.
"In my style. Have we met before?"
Her voice sounded interested. As much as it could, considering that I had just described to her everything she had done in known events with one of the members of the Earth expedition to Atlantis.
It seemed that she either had already developed this plan and was preparing to use it, or she had a universal recipe for achieving cooperation.
"Information that someone has appeared in the galaxy wielding Ancient technologies has been circulating on the planets for some time," she said unexpectedly. "On a couple of trading planets, your ships were seen emerging from gates and then activating cloaking. A couple of our satellites recorded the appearance of a small ship on a planet, which soon destabilized and exploded. This greatly angered the Council, as we lost a source of scrap metal for repairs and mines with valuable minerals."
"There were no signs of life on Salumai," I realized what she was talking about.
"We don't abandon our extractors when we leave planets with the cargo we need," she said. "You blew up the planet. Why?"
"It happened due to the activation of the self-destruct system at a secret facility where we were," I explained. "The pseudo-intelligence perceived us as enemies and decided to detonate the nearby deposits of nuquadah isotope. This led to a chain reaction. I assume your spy satellite was in the debris in orbit? And there are passive sensors scattered on the planet. Otherwise, we would have detected subspace signals."
"There was a very old satellite in orbit around Salumai," the girl said. "It recorded data in passive mode and sent it to us every couple of days. When the communication session didn't happen, we sent a ship and found its wreckage. It took time to restore the recordings."
"Well, the loss of a resource source is a serious loss," I admitted. "However, none of your people were harmed."
"But they will be harmed if you don't get what you want, won't you?" she asked. "If we don't come to an agreement, you'll shoot down our ships, and then you'll go after the battleship we have to take it. Right?"
"First, we'll send a team of technicians with spare parts to our ship to eliminate the radiation that caused the ship to be abandoned," I said. "By the way, have you installed protective screens yet or not?"
"May the Wraiths tear me apart!" Larrin exploded, suddenly transforming from a seasoned businesswoman into a dockworker. "The systems on the ship aren't working! There are no spy satellites of yours nearby – we would have detected them! How do you do it⁈ How do you get information about us⁈ The Wraiths have been trying to learn anything about us for two hundred years, and you… Rumors of your appearances have been circulating for less than a year, and now you're shoving our dirty laundry in my face!"
"It's a trade secret," I said seriously.
Smiling or humiliating her now (or in general) would be pointless. The girl didn't want to harm us for some reason. She didn't strive to become our enemy.
She sincerely wanted to give her people a respite, to somehow relieve the overcrowding on their old starships. And she saw no other options but one.
Only, she wasn't completely honest. A trifle, but still.
And also, her head was now occupied with the question – if we know what we're saying, then what are we not saying that we know about the Nomads. It couldn't even occur to her that I had already voiced everything I could recall about them briefly. The rest were minor details that couldn't significantly affect our conversation.
"You don't have enough people," she said. "If you were numerous, even a few hundred, you wouldn't need to befriend such underdeveloped races as the Athosians. I saw firearms with your Kirik. The uniform you wear is also not of your production – too primitive for the Ancients. The second ship… You simply can't afford it. While my people can…"
"Your people?" I repeated. "Larrin, don't mistake wishes for reality. Your ship is in a comparatively better condition than Captain Asan's starship. I think Nevik truly knows his job. Just as you know that the life of the Nomads, as it is, has reached a dead end. But before you can change anything, you need to earn more authority among the entire race. And reviving an old warship, which can become not only a home for a couple of thousand of your kind, but also a new flagship of irresistible power – in your opinion – will help you stand out from the rest. I don't think anyone among these wonderful people, who call themselves ship captains of your fleet, has achieved anything even remotely similar to what you want to strengthen your authority with. But nothing will work if you don't launch the ship. And for that, you need us."
"And what do you think I intend to change by becoming a leader among the captains?" Larrin narrowed her eyes.
"To found a colony on a planet," I said calmly.
After all, this was what the Nomads eventually did, after they gained control of the ship. Yes, not immediately, but about a year after they received the starship, it became known that they had such a colony.
It's logical to assume that this was Larrin's goal in the known circumstances? Logical.
Such coincidences simply don't happen.
"We don't live on planets," she cut off. But her indignation sounded too false. "We don't want to be prey for the Wraiths' gatherings. On planets, we are vulnerable."
"And your words would be more credible if not for one small fact," I objected. "Your people have surely already examined the battleship's pulse cannons, and also discovered that there is a large number of homing missiles in the arsenal. I think you know what power they represent, and therefore you believe this ship will be enough to defend against Wraith ship attacks."
"Isn't it?" she asked, realizing that what I said was too close to the truth to be from an uninformed person. "We have found thousands of pieces of evidence that the warships of the Ancients possessed colossal power. One such starship can destroy a Wraith flotilla, which is three cruisers and a hive ship. Isn't it worth trying to bring the ship back into service?"
"So you are trying," I reminded her. "And nothing is working. Moreover, let's imagine for a moment that one day you manage to do what the Wraiths couldn't for ten thousand years – you'll break the ship's genetic lock. And launch its systems. Engines, dampeners, shields, hyperdrive, life support. But there's a nuance – you won't be able to make it fire."
"Why is that?" the girl became interested.
"You saw the compartment with the massive chair in the center of the ship, didn't you?" I asked. "You did. On board the starship, it's responsible for controlling the missiles. And only from it can they be controlled. But, the problem is – you can fool the onboard computer and connect to the main systems. However, you won't get the key ones – for that, you need a Lantian."
"Why?"
"Only a living and uncoerced operator, acting of their own free will, can operate the chair," I explained. "Whether you kidnap him, intimidate him, brainwash him, drug him, or simply bribe him – the control chair won't react. And the pulse turrets on the hull… Yes, they are not bad. With a couple of shots from just one turret, you can break a Nomad ship into pieces. You can control them without much effort, I won't hide it. But it's not enough in combat. For Wraith ships, pulse cannons alone won't be enough for you. And never would be. It's self-deception."
"Oh, really?" she chuckled. "Well, let's assume we would find a way to use the missiles. Let's assume," she walked past my figure, appraisingly, as if choosing a dress for the evening. Of course, if she wears dresses. "Let's just assume that I would be interested and extremely grateful to someone who could turn on the ship for us. And to someone who could either help create a hybrid control device…"
Her hand landed on top of mine, as if by accident, placing it on the same part of the balcony railing as I had. Women… Will they ever get tired of feeling so important that in their minds it's equivalent to exchanging an entire battleship with an arsenal of missiles?
"You didn't understand me, Larrin," I sighed. "This is not a haggle. This is not a deal. You came here with an ultimatum, relying on the information your spy was able to transmit to you."
"Transmit?" she raised an eyebrow. "I don't understand…"
She faltered, looking at me.
"Of course," the Nomad chuckled. "And you know about the backup transmitter too."
"In my world, a recording device in a shoe is no longer considered something new," I said. "Larrin, you're playing with fire. You're literally making things worse with every minute. Do you really think we can't track all your transmitters? From the moment you came here, we already knew that everything you said in front of the spy had reached you through subspace. You just needed to find the emergency beacon. I'm sure you have something similar with you now. But I decided not to humiliate you with a search."
"Or you just saved yourself another headache from your ladies," Larrin raised her leg, sole towards herself, and pulled a small rectangular object from her heel. "See? The indicator isn't lit. It's not activated. The Nomad fleet won't fly here, although according to the plan, they should have.
"But you decided to show prudence."
The girl rolled her eyes for a moment.
"It happens to me," she said. "One action out of three or so. It can always be activated quite quickly. And then a couple of dozen ships… They'll fly here for you to shoot them down. That's exactly what will happen, isn't it, if I turn it on?"
"Correct. And," I raised my head upwards. "We won't even need to raise the city to the surface or fire missiles through the ocean depths that protect us from orbital attacks. I'll just send a few small ships with a full arsenal of missiles. Two for each ship will be enough to destroy a significant part of your race."
Larrin, after thinking for a couple of seconds, opened her hand and the transmitter fell to the floor. And then, her heavy sole landed on it. Her elegant foot made a couple of rotational movements, grinding the device into a pile of parts.
"Today I'm really breaking records," she smiled tensely. "The number of logical actions exceeds all limits."
"It happens when some doors close and others open," I shrugged. "It was smart of you not to make us enemies."
"I can only answer for myself, Mikhail, not for my entire race or the Council. I repeat – we are in a desperate situation. The ship is our solution."
"Temporarily," I sighed. "But you are deceiving yourself. But a colony – that's a permanent solution."
"We need something more than words and verbal exercises for me to actually offer this to the Council," she said, looking from the height of the central spire at the lights of the numerous towers of Atlantis burning in the darkness. "The city is huge. You are few. We could…"
"No."
"Are you afraid they'll get jealous when I ask you for help?" she chuckled. "Don't worry. I'm a big girl. If necessary, I can fight too."
"I'm sure it would be an interesting experience," I replied after thinking. "But, you see… Trebal would wipe the floor with you without even breaking a sweat. And Chaya wouldn't waste time on sparring – she'd simply split you into atoms. Or turn you into protoplasm. Or into a living bomb. Or…"
"That's why I didn't like her right away," Larrin grumbled. "Alright. You don't want to give up the ship. You don't want to resettle us in the city either. I'm even a little offended that I'm hearing so many refusals in a row. It seems that the magic of cutting is no longer working when it's not in front of my eyes," she looked at her jacket with a smirk. And chuckled again, seeing that I didn't pay attention to her. "Well, come on. Admit it. Are you afraid of them, or do you dislike me?"
God… Why does it always come down to this? We were communicating normally.
"You are a beautiful woman, Larrin," I said. "I'm sure you have suitable and worthy admirers in the Nomad fleet. It's not my place to enter into a competition."
"Not about the hyperdrive mechanic?" she asked with a slight chill in her voice. It seemed female resentment had kicked in. Ah, yes… Every woman is beautiful. And there are unattractive and unworthy people around everyone. But there's a nuance – every woman thinks so.
"There's no point for me to take on another hyperdrive," I used the same analogy. "There won't be enough time for maintenance of each. You miss something here, you overlook something there – and your ship is thrown out into the middle of endless space and far from any chance of salvation."
"Even if the hyperdrive doesn't require increased attention and is so unpretentious that it can calmly handle the repair of others?" her eyes sparkled mischievously. It seemed she just liked this wordplay.
She's simply not the type to stay in the background, rejoicing in handouts and approving: "There's no time, but hang in there!"
"I don't need a politically motivated hyperdrive," I tried to explain. "I have a different approach to creating hyperspace windows."
Larrin looked up at me again.
"Not bad," she said with a hint of approval and without a trace of irritation or offense. "This is the first discussion about hyperdrives that doesn't annoy me or make me feel like I've cleaned a sewage cistern. And you look quite young."
"I'm older than I look."
"It's noticeable in how you choose your words. Because my supply of arguments is running out. And there's no result. And I'm not going to leave here without it," Larrin warned. "I need this ship, Mikhail. Just help me. And in the vastness of the galaxy, you will have a person who will come at the first call, bring all our ships with them, and, if necessary, a bunk…"
"We've already talked about hyperdrives," I reminded her.
"I'll refuel it," she finished, clearly pleased that she had caught me. "And still, it's because of them… Human life in the galaxy is too short to waste it on archaic ideas about society. Take what you're given, don't look ahead, live for today, or the shortest future."
"A convenient philosophy. Did it lead you to the role of space wanderers?"
"And I want to change that."
"I believe you. By how desperately you're looking for a solution from different angles, searching for the option that I need."
"And you have no idea how much it annoys me that I haven't understood this yet," extreme dissatisfaction and irritation sounded in her voice. "A little more and this will drive me…"
"More likely lead you," I said. "To solitary confinement. And there's a hungry Wraith there."
"You have what?" she recoiled as if scalded. "Are you out of your mind? Wraiths can send visions, read minds. And even control some people! He can call his own!"
"Come here," I beckoned her with my finger, pointing to one of the buildings of Atlantis. "See that skyscraper shaped like a triangular prism?"
"Is the Wraith there?" she asked impatiently.
"No," I objected. "There are several hundred stasis pods there, which were on board the warship 'Aurora', drifting on the outskirts of the galaxy for nine thousand consecutive years."
"An ancient warship?"
"Exactly. And you've already seen part of the crew when you were staring at our command center."
Larrin looked at me in a new way.
"Ancients?"
"The very same. And soon there will be more of them. Considering that we know where and how to reduce the crew without compromising the effectiveness of the battleships, and you want to turn a warship into a barrel of herring, guess why your terms seem boring to me?"
"By the time you fix our battleship, you'll have a crew for it," Larrin said, disappointed, looking away. "And you didn't mention the Wraith for no reason, did you?"
"For intrigue and to understand what we can afford to keep him here," I explained. "And no one else in the galaxy can. Are you starting to feel the difference between your perception of us and who we really are?"
"Let's assume," Larrin said cautiously, "that you are indeed the Ancients. Or their descendants, mixed with the Ancients. That changes nothing in essence. A few hundred against the Wraiths... They have thousands of ships, if you count the cruisers! They have millions! What difference does it make how many ships you have? One or two? You emphasized that my people cannot build new ships..."
"You said it yourself."
"Well, you aren't building them either," she pointed out. "I still have a viewport on the bridge. And I saw – your ship isn't fresh off the slipway. In ten thousand years, you could have at least changed the design."
"And we're perfectly happy with it," I said. "The best is the enemy of the good."
"I'll remember that," she nodded. "But on the main issue, we're at a dead end."
"Only because you need a ship to bring your plan to life," I sighed. "And until you turn off your tunnel vision, we won't make any progress."
"Then help me! If you are Ancients, then you surely have something I can throw to the Council as a bone."
"Well, it's good you didn't say a stick," I remarked. "You want a colony."
"I want to colonize a planet," she emphasized the first word. "The others need something more substantial than words to consider this issue. They are conservative. I, on the other hand..." she stroked my hand. "Hold more liberal views."
"Interesting," I appreciated the hint. "I'll keep it in mind. Alright, I'll give you a hint. Captain Asan is your competitor, isn't he?"
"Like any other ship commander. Everyone tries to get something valuable and capitalize on it. To exchange it for needed technology or to gain support in the Council."
"And the defense of the gates will give him what he needs?"
"Less than a functional ship," Larrin inhaled loudly. "Do you always treat girls like this? First, you torment them with interesting tricks, and then at the end, you give them what they need?"
"We've already settled the hyperdrive issue, haven't we?"
Larrin took a step closer and pressed her shoulder against me, as if by chance shivering from the cold surrounding them.
"I'm ready to return to topics that interest me at any time of day or night," she purred. "So... The defense of the gates. How do you do it?"
"Our ancestors created the gates," I reminded her, shamelessly counting myself among the Lantians. "What do you think yourself?"
"I think that a defense for the gates would be a simpler, but still interesting analogue," she said. "Not as valuable as a practically functional Ancient ship with full armament."
"Which will be enough for several good battles," I summarized. "After which, even if you have a starship left, you will lose the ability to attack and defend properly. You haven't forgotten, I hope, that ammunition is a finite quantity?"
"Can you produce them?" she asked directly.
"It's Lantian technology," I reminded her, without going into detail. "And we are in the Lantian capital. Unlike you, we won't need to build factories in our colony to update equipment and hull plating for our ships."
"Do you have a factory?" Larrin inhaled loudly.
"We have the means to service and repair our ships," I said. "And, let's say, if I had a certain lady who possessed our ship, useless in her hands, who showed conscientiousness and gave up a dangerous toy that could soon turn into flying junk, I would be grateful to her."
"So grateful that you would help with the fleet's upgrade?"
"So grateful that you would help with finding a planet that the Wraiths never visit," I clarified. "As we did for the Athosians."
Larrin was silent for a moment.
"Now I understand," a smile appeared on her lips. "Teila Emmagan... Is she also part of your hyperspace window program?"
She hits the same point too often. Uncle Freud would have taken her under his wing and started building a theory linking a large, long Lantian warship and her slips of the tongue.
"Has anyone ever told you that personal life is called personal for a reason, not public?"
"Yes, I've heard something like that," Larrin clearly seemed pleased that she had, as she thought, found a necessary breach in my armor. "But, you understand, the defense of the gates and help with repairs is hardly enough compared to a whole Ancient warship?"
"But you understand that one Ancient warship can fly for another and take it by force? You already know the consequences of that."
"Cruel," Larrin smiled against her words. "I like it. But I can't guarantee that the Council will agree to such an exchange."
"Do you think I care about your Council?" I asked. "We are talking to each other. Like one leader to another. You found a ship. And you are in charge of it. Or have the rules of the Nomads somehow changed during the time we've been freezing here?"
"Unlikely," Larrin admitted. "But this way you won't earn allies among my people. Perhaps a few ships and their crews, for whom I am an authority and who will like the idea of colonizing a planet. But no more than that. Something more is needed."
"For example, help with colonization?" I asked. "Inspection of your ships and modernization advice? Or, perhaps, stable, high-performance generators?"
"Sounds like a promise of a second round of negotiations," a smile played on Larrin's face. "I give you the ship, and you help me and my supporters with finding and defending a planet. Right?"
"Within reason, Larrin," I warned. "The latter doesn't mean that at the first call I'll rush to your aid in full battle gear."
"Definitely not for now," she ran her keen gaze over me again. "But, I repeat. I'm not so conservative as to miss out on my advantage. I'm sure I have something to surprise you with."
"Don't promise what you can't deliver," I advised with a smirk.
Larrin, stepping away from the railing, ran her hand down my jacket from top to bottom, following it with her gaze.
"Take my word for it," her gaze met mine. "If I'm satisfied with our cooperation, I'll have something to give you. And you'll have to think if you can pay the price I need."