"...will be here in a couple of hours. The Aurora will be found, the crew slaughtered or used by the Wraith to obtain knowledge. That is why I am inside—to negotiate with you."
It wasn't a piercing gaze or even a stern voice that led me to the thought that I should be perfectly frank with the Aurora's commander. There was a certain risk that the Lantean, like his Ascended brethren, would consider me a freak of nature and try to kill me... By the way, if you die in a virtual environment, do you die in real life?
No.
I decided on frankness for two reasons.
This man, despite the fact that we had literally just met, appealed to me. Like a kind grandfather you fly to visit for the weekend. He'll listen to you, nod at what's said, let you speak your mind. And then he'll give you a dozen pieces of advice on how he would have handled your problems. But the choice, of course, is always yours.
And secondly, what happened on the bridge sobered me up. And led me to some quite obvious thoughts.
A Captain is an unquestionable authority on board a warship. Those who defy him sit in the brig, they don't roam the bridge freely. Consequently, his subordinates hear him, respect him, and trust him.
If I can win this man over to my side, the crew will follow. The Aurora's commander doesn't act arrogantly, isn't rude, and doesn't pretend everyone around is so underdeveloped they can't understand why the sun rises in the east and sets in the west.
"Ten thousand years," the combat ship's commander echoed. He seemed not to have heard my previous words. In what he said, one could feel the bitterness of the years lived. "A long time even for our physiology..."
And the pain of a betrayed man.
"How old are our bodies?" he asked, glancing at me.
"As far as I know, if you are removed, you will not live long enough for us to deliver you to Atlantis," I admitted. "Most likely you won't even survive the transfer to the Hippaphoralkus. If defrosted, of course."
I don't think he required an exact answer. The Captain knew perfectly well what I was and what I was capable of.
"Ten thousand years," he repeated with a heavy sigh. "I hoped they would come for us... Instead, the Council did everything to ensure we did not survive. If not for your intervention, we would have perished. In ten, a hundred, five hundred, or a thousand years, but we would have perished."
"The danger of death still remains," I reminded him. "The Wraith will be here soon. And, with all the will in the world, I am not certain we can manage without your help. We need to begin the evacuation of personnel as quickly as possible. I'm sure there's some trick to getting all the pods out and transferring them to my ship. Once we're safe, we'll start bringing your people back to life. But we must hurry. Otherwise, every Lantean on board the Aurora faces death."
The Aurora's commander looked at me as if seeing me for the first time.
"Lanteans?" he repeated with a sad smile. "Michael... with every new sentence you speak, it becomes more painful for me..."
And what did he mean by that?
Actually, that's the question I asked him.
The Captain smirked bitterly.
"Besides myself, there is not a single Lantean on board the Aurora," he explained with bitterness in his voice.
Did the temperature in the virtual environment suddenly drop, or did a wave of icy cold just wash over me?
***
By the time the lid of the stasis pod rose, it already felt like an eternity to Kiryk.
"Are you finished?" he approached Michael.
The Lantean looked stunned, glancing around.
But he pulled himself together quite quickly.
"Not quite," the guy muttered, climbing out of the chamber. "I'll need to go back..."
"You were inside for half an hour," Teyla said. "There is not much time left..."
"Quite enough," Michael cut her off. His voice became sharp, impatient. As if he were trying to save every second.
Approaching the nearest chamber occupied by a crew member, he drew both of their attention to the control panel. One like this was next to every stasis chamber on the decks of Atlantis.
Three slanted rows of small buttons. Three in each. Michael pressed every third one in sequence. Strictly from top to bottom.
With a noise, the pod with the sleeping person slid forward, out of the wall. But, contrary to expectation, it didn't crash to the floor but began to hover in the air. However, Kiryk and Teyla were no longer surprised by this.
"Watch and remember," Michael demonstrated the button presses again. "Safe disconnection from virtual reality, transfer to emergency power, activation of the anti-gravity suspension. After that, the pod can be pushed ahead of you all the way to the transporter. Understood?"
"Perhaps they can all be deactivated from the auxiliary bridge?" Kiryk asked. "It would be faster that way."
"There is forty-five minutes of power reserve in each pod," Michael explained. "We won't have time to get them all out before the pods run out of power. And they can only be deactivated sequentially by hand. Five will fit in the transporter. Here," Michael pointed to the side of the stasis pod where a panel was blinking with lights, "is a yellow button. One press—the chamber will stand vertically," he demonstrated how the pod transitions to the required position. "A second press—it returns to horizontal. Is that clear?"
"Yes," Teyla said distractedly. "We need to move all the pods to the Hippaphoralkus?"
"Exactly," Michael said, touching his radio. "Alvar, send Koschei. Under guard and at gunpoint. First, let him snack on Sora—he'll need the strength."
"Michael," Teyla intervened. "I do not think this is the right thing to do..."
The girl shut up when I shushed her.
"Will be done," the temporary battleship commander replied. "Anything else?"
"Leave five men at the transporter to move the pods into the rooms. You yourself handle connecting them to the power grid. Send the rest to the Aurora. Remember what Chaya said about the connection?"
The girl had prepared kilometers of temporary wiring in dozens of rooms on board the Hippaphoralkus, to which those in the stasis pods were to be connected. And, of course, she showed us how to do it correctly so as not to burn the body or the wiring. However, understanding who she'd be working with, the girl had designed everything to be as simple as possible.
"Yes," came the short reply.
"Excellent," I praised. "I'll be back as soon as I can."
"Copy that."
"If you are leaving, what should we do with Koschei when he is brought here?" Teyla asked.
"You will help the others deliver the pods and send them to the Hippaphoralkus," I informed Emmagan. "Kiryk, you will guard Koschei while I'm inside the pods. To save time, we'll revive a few useful crew members. They'll help both here and on board the Hippaphoralkus."
"Understood," he replied. "How will I know which people in which pods to revive? They still need to be found, after all..."
"Don't worry," I advised him. "They'll all be in one section. As soon as Koschei says he has no more strength, do everything to make sure he isn't faking. If that doesn't help—knock him out and send him to the brig."
"Will be done," the former runner assured me.
"Now, come on, I'll show you which guys we're going to revive first..."
***
From the very moment she was captured, Sora had no doubt she would be killed. They tried to interrogate her, but she said nothing. She was beaten several times—and the author of her numerous injuries, bruises, and abrasions was a man named Alvar. An Erman whose planet had fallen due to the actions of the Genii.
So she had no doubt that sooner or later she would die. No one keeps a prisoner who is of no use. Sora, as her father and Commander Acastus Kolya had trained her, survived the torture with honor. Not a word was said about what interested the captors. She didn't even say a word about being a Genii. Yes, they knew it themselves, but she wasn't going to confirm it.
Such are the rules of the game the Genii play. If you're caught—it's your own fault. Die, but do not betray your people. Not a word to the enemy. And only then, after death, do the Ancestors await you, approving of what you have done.
Sora Tyrus did not know how she ended up here. But she suspected she had been moved here after being stunned by a Wraith weapon in the cell on Atlantis.
Nor did she know why the lights were going out and it was getting cold. She would have gladly taken advantage of this and escaped her cell... if the entrance grate didn't weigh more than she could lift. And the guard didn't let her relax.
She decided to trust the Ancestors and wait until the situation changed. Perhaps then she would have a chance to escape. She was ready to fight her way out. Just open the cell...
However, she was not prepared for what she saw when her new cell door swung open.
The same guard who had been watching her all this time entered the cell. But he didn't bring clothes or anything useful. With him came several more Athosians in Erman uniforms and with Erman weapons.
At first, she thought they intended to feed her... They always came in groups of several people when they opened her cell.
But the reality turned out to be much more mundane.
The Athosians, the implacable enemies of the Wraith, did indeed intend to feed in this cell. But not her.
The girl backed into a corner when the one bound in chains entered the room... Sora understood everything. And she screamed in terror.
"Well, hello," the laughing Wraith addressed her in a raspy voice, looming over her. "I hope you'll be tastier than your father..."
Genii never leave life without having the last word. But this time Sora broke the Genii precepts.
She didn't have time to say anything when the Wraith's feeding slit fell upon her chest, and pain and euphoria pierced her body.
She never even reached her death throes.
***
The moment he disconnected from the virtual environment, he understood in practice that everything the Captain had said was the truth. Their bodies had indeed aged. So much so that even with the slight disorientation from prolonged stasis, he felt the age-related changes. Muscle atrophy, skin that was no longer firm and elastic, fingers that trembled... Joint pain was included as a matter of course.
As soon as the body experienced the long-forgotten sensation of stiff muscles, he took a deep breath.
"Ihaarh," a familiar voice invaded his ears. Opening his eyes slightly, the Senior Engineer squinted. But the dimmed light in reality was beneficial for his ability to see. "Do you understand me?"
The young man peered into the face of Michael, who was looming over him. He wanted to say something, but his tongue wouldn't obey. Something was stuck in his throat, some kind of fluid. It seemed... it seemed his body was dying. Likely something with the lungs.
It seemed they were trying to help him, unbuttoning the tunic on his chest, tearing the uniform undergarments. The shirt tore with a deafening crack, ripping down to the middle of his chest. Apparently, there really was a problem with the lungs. And they were going to try to resuscitate him now...
"He's reacting to sounds," the voice of some other man rang out. An unfamiliar voice. Ihaarh, actually, no longer cared. He understood he was dying. It seemed the commander was wrong, and Michael had no way to bring them back to life. But if so, why all this?
"Keep standing over him," a suspiciously familiar voice rang out on the edge of fading consciousness. "But don't blame me later if I can't revive him..."
"If he dies, I'll rip your head off," the shadow over his head with Michael's face assured. The shadow seemed to move away, but it didn't get any brighter.
His consciousness had almost flickered out when he felt it... His body was suddenly filled with pain that made him want to scream as loud as he could.
And this pain was by no means that of old age...
The remaining air in his lungs expelled clumps of fluid from his throat. Simultaneously, his body was filled with euphoria from the suddenly increased level of pleasure hormones. And adrenaline. His adrenal glands, as if there hadn't been ten thousand years of waiting, worked at the full capacity of improved physiology, pulling his consciousness out of oblivion.
And at that moment his vision focused, the shadows disappeared, and even the meager lighting above him was enough to see the characteristic green face... Horror and fear paralyzed Ihaarh, preventing him from moving or resisting the Wraith's right hand lying on his chest.
"Ancient," the Wraith breathed in his face, a triumphant mask frozen on his features. "Your hour has come!"
But worst of all was that, as he regained the sensations of his body, Ihaarh still couldn't stop the feeding process. He couldn't even scream.
And he couldn't warn the remaining members of his ship's crew that they had fallen into a trap set by Michael and the Wraith.
***
Returning to the virtual environment was becoming a habit.
Darkness, light, blue and brown patterns on the Aurora's bulkheads...
The same small room where I had left the Captain, having received exhaustive instructions from him.
"...there are shells, shields, and the ship can take the fight," Trebal said heatedly, standing before the Aurora's Captain.
"It will not help us," he cut her off in a calm but categorical tone. He didn't raise his voice, wasn't rude, didn't resort to shouting or insults. He was as calm as a boa constrictor.
I confess, I envied him so much at that moment. To silence the bitchy First Officer with just one sentence... This man is an example to follow. I hope he won't refuse to give me a few masterclasses on leadership.
Okay, fine, a few hundred masterclasses.
It's a pleasure to talk to this man and...
"We have time," Trebal still wouldn't let up. "I can take an engineering and technical team and repair the engines. We only need to jump into hyperspace!"
"This is not up for discussion," the Captain cut her off, noticing me. He rose from the transport container to meet me. "Senior Officer Trebal, you are dismissed. See to it that all members of the engineering and technical team are brought back to life among the first. They will provide invaluable assistance to Michael and his people."
"Captain!" Trebal exclaimed, cutting her eyes at him.
"You have your orders, Officer!" the Aurora's commander raised his voice, looking me in the eye. "Carry them out!"
Trebal looked at him, then at me. But this time with more anger. And she silently left the room.
"Juniors," the Aurora's commander smiled sadly. "Always impatient, always impulsive. You have no idea how many problems that has caused. And catastrophes..."
"We still have an hour and a half," I said. "There is time to talk. Since you said to evacuate yourself last..."
"A Captain always leaves the ship last," the Aurora's commander said calmly, pointing me toward the door. "Come, we have much to discuss, Michael."
We went out into the corridor.
It was quite deserted here, yet at the same time, some crew members continued to scurry back and forth. As if they had some urgent business. In a virtual environment, no less.
"What's happening?" I asked, walking to the right of the only Lantean on the ship. "You can't control the ship's equipment in reality from virtuality."
"You cannot," the Captain agreed. "But why do you think the virtual environment was created?"
"To give the crew something to do during the flights," I suggested the most obvious reason. Actually, Chaya had told me about this too.
"True," my companion said. "We had ten thousand years to practice various tasks. If you allow the mind to be distracted from critically important work, it gives panic a chance to break even the strong. The most obvious thing was to order the crew to engage in research and work while waiting for rescue. And now they are downloading the data of their work from the virtual computers onto storage media and transferring it to their chambers."
As if in confirmation of these words, we saw in the corridor how several people, connecting Ancient laptops directly into the control panels next to the decorative plugs in place of the stasis chambers, were doing exactly that.
"And what results have you achieved?" I inquired. "Considering you were the only Lantean on board the ship."
"Being a Lantean does not mean knowing everything," the ship's commander assured me. "Each of us is a specialist in our field. To one degree or another. It is impossible to obtain all the knowledge of the Universe in a human body. No matter how magnificently it has been developed by evolution or genetic, biochemical, cybernetic, or other improvements. All the knowledge of all the races that have ever lived and live—all in one place. In an energy state. Knowledge of everything about everything—it is a colossal volume of information. To evaluate it, all the information storage devices we could have created since the dawn of our race would not be enough. Ascension is the only way to understand the Universe."
Well now... And I thought the Ascended possessed only the knowledge of the Ancients. But it turns out... it's not that simple.
However, if you dig deeper, everything here is not as simple as it might seem at first glance.
"And in what field are you a specialist?" I asked.
"I knew military technology well, hyperdrives, pulse ship weaponry," the Captain replied.
"Actually, that is why I volunteered to command the Aurora on her final raid. The Council was against it, but I insisted. Likely even then, they were contemplating the evacuation to Earth. And sending the Aurora to the edge of the galaxy with a crew consisting of representatives of the younger races suited them perfectly. If they succeeded—good, a chance would emerge. If they failed—no great loss. In fact... that was the intent. So few Lanteans remained by the end of the war that I hoped even in a dire situation, we would not be abandoned. Unfortunately, the gamble did not pay off. The Council chose the simplest path. Saving the majority in exchange for the lives of the rest."
"You discuss it so casually," I shuddered. "In essence, the Council left you and your crew to die..."
"In my time, one could be disintegrated for such accusations," the Commander of the Aurora smirked. "We are partly fortunate that Ascension does not grant access to the virtual environment. Just as it prevents penetration into various computer systems. We can speak freely about everything."
"Do you know that for certain?"
"I am familiar with the treatises on Ascension and have some idea of the limits of their power," the Captain said, stopping me at a corridor intersection. Several young men in Aurora security uniforms ran past us. "In my time, it was mostly theory, as there were not many Ascended among us. And they were in no hurry to share information or make contact. Even when it did happen, there were no direct answers. Hints, riddles... and even then, only by the time we were already losing the war."
"I understand why the Ascended don't want to share information with me and other humans; we aren't in the same league. But you are Ancients, you know a million times more, you are more advanced... Why not...?"
"Why not tell us what became known on the path to Ascension or upon achieving it?" the Captain finished my thought. I could only nod. "Even we are no more than primitives to them compared to the dominant species of an entire galaxy. As I understand it, the rules do not allow for direct action. And all those loopholes you spoke of... they are precisely the result of attempts by individual Ascended to help less developed species. Though, from your story, it seems that in the events you know of, the Ascended helped exclusively those who, one way or another, protected their world order and position. Snobbery, selfishness, and arrogance in their purest form," the man sighed sadly. "Unfortunately, that is who we all are. The more you know, the more you master and comprehend, the longer you live, the less you resemble a human and the more you resemble a machine. Logic and planning replace emotions, feelings, compassion... From what I gathered from your story about Oma Desala and Orlin, about Chaya Sar, Moros, and Ganos Lal, some of them did have the stirrings of a conscience. However, I suspect it is not that simple..."
"In my view, it's quite simple," I shrugged. "The Ancients are the Ascended. They set the rules. So why can't they break them?"
"What makes you think the Ancients established the rules of Ascension?" the Captain asked, surprised. "They were set long before them. Most likely, long before the emergence of our race. Unfortunately, my knowledge in this area is limited. But I believe you can satisfy your curiosity by consulting the Atlantis database."
"A significant portion of it is encrypted and password-protected," I admitted.
"Yes," the Commander sighed. "Protection and insurance against overly curious representatives of the younger races. Then again, the Council hid much even from ordinary Lanteans. However," he quickly corrected himself, "those are merely rumors and my own suppositions."
Talk about a revelation. I'd bet my life that last slip was a Freudian one. He knows far more than he's saying. But, just like Chaya, he's acting cautiously. Giving hints rather than answers.
Smart. After all, if he's wrong and the Ascended are watching us, he's hardly earned himself a spot in the corner on his knees. On salt or buckwheat. Figuratively speaking, of course.
The difference in communication between the Aurora's Commander and someone like Chaya was palpable. The girl behaved—even if it was a parody of a Lantean—more humanly, more simply. She wasn't a stranger to humor, however peculiar, or fear... The Aurora's Commander, on the other hand, increasingly seemed like a walking encyclopedia that knew everything about everything. But an encyclopedia with feelings and its own code of honor.
One couldn't help but admire him. If only because this man couldn't fail to realize that even if we wanted to, we couldn't evacuate every member of the ship's crew. Not in such a tight timeframe. I know my people and the revived Ancients are doing everything they can, but... I know we won't make it. It makes me sad, and I'm torn with anger at the actions of the Captain, who intends to be the last to leave the ship. In effect, he has signed his own death warrant.
And he explained it to me very simply. The Aurora's reconnaissance mission was to obtain data from a laboratory complex built at the start of the war. They were studying Wraith technology there. And the Wraith themselves. There were no Stargates there, which precluded the Wraith from appearing on the planets. Exactly what the scientists passed to the Council, the Captain didn't know—the Wraith managed to track them and attacked. The laboratories were destroyed, the Aurora took critical damage and lost almost all its Puddle Jumpers, and fired off its drones in defense until the final data package was received. They escaped into hyperspace, but the damage was too severe. Well, from there, everything matched what I had found in the ship's own database.
The Captain didn't know for certain, but he had heard something about reverse feeding. It turned out the Wraith had invented it at the height of the war. It was then experimentally established that the Wraith energy required to resurrect one Lantean was equivalent to what was needed to restore a dozen representatives of the younger races. If I brought him back to life, I'd get one brilliant man. If I didn't—I'd get twelve people. Less brilliant than him, of course, but more useful. After all, his crew members were intimately familiar with Ancient systems.
Simple math. It reeked of fatalism, but... it was his choice. And it was more than consistent with my own.
When I lay down in the pod, Koschei had managed to get Ikhaar and half of his engineering team on their feet. Right now, these guys were proving truly invaluable. They hadn't just taken over the work of connecting the pods on the Hippaphoralkus; they were also piloting the Jumpers we had and using environmental suits to retrieve pods from the depressurized sections of the ship. Not to mention they were also working on restoring a pair of doors leading to the Aurora's hangar. They were being used as airlocks so that other Jumpers, landing in the depressurized hangar, could also ferry out the stasis pods. Relying on the transporter alone would have been a major mistake. With the arrival of Ikhaar and his subordinates, we had not one, but three evacuation routes for the Aurora's crew.
Except we still weren't likely to make it before the Wraith arrived.
"Did you notice anything strange in Chaya Sar's behavior?" the Captain asked unexpectedly as we stopped at the threshold of the auxiliary control room.
"Not particularly," it was hard to admit. After all, there were grounds for a "yes." "Is there something I should know?"
"I am not one to spread the secrets of others," the Commander admitted, approaching one of the consoles. "I am certain that if she is helping you, she does so from the heart. As always. But do not let her get carried away with her scientific pursuits and mislead you regarding her absolute correctness. One day, it may cost you your life."
I don't like this vagueness.
"Why not just say it plainly?" I asked.
"Well, you didn't inform me of your suspicions that Sar would inevitably oppose your saving us," the Captain smiled. "Everyone is entitled to secrets. Both you and I. I believe if you didn't lay everything out at once, you have your own reasons for protecting her. I respect such behavior. She is your comrade and helper, an ally. Perhaps more, but that is none of my concern. Protecting one's people is the duty of a leader. That isn't written in any manual. It must come from within. You have that. It is no wonder General Hippaphoralkus chose you. He knew how to discern in the younger races that which might one day make them great."
Fine... the Captain is playing his own game. He didn't say exactly why Chaya is so dangerous, but at the same time, he threw me the bait to figure it out myself. Yet he didn't even hint that she had done something terrible. He didn't bias my opinion. He's letting me investigate everything myself and make a decision according to my own internal convictions.
Damn, a little more and I'll start admiring this Lantean!
"I'll have time to figure it out, provided the Ascended don't decide to finish me off," I muttered. "After all, to them, I'm a global violation of the rules of Ascension and all that."
"It is hard to blame them for such fear," the Aurora's Captain looked at me. "Are you familiar with the concept of 'cascading entropy failure'?"
"You know the answer yourself," I smirked. "My knowledge... is very superficial."
"You will have to bridge that gap if you wish to solve problems rather than create them," the Captain said. As usual, without judgment. Just a statement of fact. "I will simplify the explanation. Please do not take my tone as condescending; it is just... we would spend too much time determining your level of technical knowledge. And I fear I am not the best lecturer."
I could argue that.
"So, you are a guest from an alternate universe," the Captain stood opposite me, clenching his hands into fists. But his behavior didn't suggest he intended to throw a one-two punch at me. "Your body, your consciousness, and indeed any object located in a specific universe, has a certain energy charge. It is different from the charge of an identical item, object, or person in another universe. Just as the frequency is—it is unique for every universe. Imagine what happens if the charges are brought near one another?"
"Opposite charges would touch, and like charges would cause them to repel each other," I guessed.
The Captain froze for a moment, then nodded in agreement.
"In broad terms, correct. Now, imagine that universes are like the pages of a closed book. Somewhere in the center is a base universe, the actions in which give rise to more and more universes. The further they are from the base universe, the more their charges differ. And the movement of the same objects between universes causes a cataclysm. Multiple versions—even two—of the same object simply cannot exist in one universe. Their charges and vibration frequencies do not allow it. I hope you understand that every molecule and atom in the universe vibrates and moves?"
"I have an idea," I said. No, I definitely had to think of a way to save this man. If the Lanteans had a gold standard, it was the Commander of the Aurora. "And what happens if the objects touch or are close enough to each other?"
"I read about old Alteran experiments during their time in the Milky Way galaxy," the Captain unclenched his fists. "When they left their home galaxy, nothing restrained their imagination and scientific pursuits. This included experimenting with quantum physics, as you call it. Travel to alternate universes was one of the directions. But it was closed and declared forbidden after the consequences became irreversible."
"Consequences?" I grew wary. "Irreversible? What are you talking about?"
"Time and space in the universes are not subject to uniform laws throughout all of Creation," the Captain said. "In some places, it flows faster; in others, slower. In some, we could peek at other versions of ourselves and adopt their achievements; in others, they did the same. And in some, a cascading entropy failure caused a collapse of the space-time continuum, or a change in history and the destruction of entire races... I could hypothesize that your universe emerged as a result of such interference. But I have too little data to speak of it. If you are interested, speak with Chaya Sar. Spatial physics was her favorite discipline," he paused for a moment, then added: "At least it was, a little over ten thousand years ago."
It seemed like my head should have exploded from what the Captain said. But no, I soaked it all up like a sponge. Every word of his. And I even understood some of it, given my knowledge.
That was the trouble. The Ascended are afraid that a second me might exist in this universe. Our charges and frequencies don't match, and upon contact... anything could happen.
"You have no idea what food for thought you've given me," I admitted. "Thank you."
"I am glad I can help," the Captain was already immersed in some calculations and computations, moving from one console to another. And he still managed to talk to me. A multi-tasker from the Big Bang. "I regret I cannot do more. But we still have a little time. If you have any questions left, ask them."
"How can one ask the most important question out of millions, given the circumstances?" I smirked.
"The right approach," the Captain said after a second's thought. "In part, I even envy that the future of our race is in your hands. You are young, energetic, and you know that even advanced minds can make catastrophic mistakes. I believe you have a chance to build a more just society of Ancients than we did. I believe in you, Mikhail. I believe and I hope."
An invisible hand squeezed my throat.
I'd only known this man for a couple of hours, but in that time, I'd developed such respect for him that the resentment was stifling.
"Come with me, Captain," I grabbed his hand. "Maybe not now, but in some time, we'll be able to revive you and..."
The Captain looked at me with a sympathetic smile. He placed a hand on my shoulder and gave me a kind, fatherly look. It made my heart tighten even more.
"I appreciate your offer, Mikhail. And I understand your motives. But I haven't been idle these ten thousand years either. I understood better than anyone that the longer we remained in stasis, the harder it would be to bring us back to life. I performed calculations, built hundreds of thousands of hypotheses, proved some and rejected others. I found hundreds and thousands of options, but not one of them was even close to how to preserve our lives. You can be proud of yourself—you found the correct way to save my crew. But I cannot go with you."
"That's not an answer to 'why not?'"
"We are to blame for what is happening in this galaxy," the Aurora's Commander sighed. "We are to blame for what is happening in the Milky Way and in the Alterans' home galaxy. We fled instead of resisting. We fled instead of fighting to the last. We relied on science and calculations where we should have thought with our hearts, our emotions, and engaged our own spirituality. Now, of course, one can say anything, but... I know for certain that for my resurrection, hundreds of innocent lives would be required."
Whoa!
"I should point out that I don't send innocents to be fed to the Wraith," I assured him.
The Captain gave a sad smirk.
"Believe me, there is nothing I desire more than to return to my home city," regret colored his voice. "But it is beyond my strength. The risks... are too great. Compared to what my race has done, any criminal is innocent. And we are doubly guilty for having fixed nothing, but simply leaving. I cannot live with this burden of guilt. It caused problems before, but now... everything will be even worse. By joining you, I would unequivocally bring trouble upon your people. Take an old Lantean's word for it—you do not need an ally who places a target on your back. The stakes are too high..."
"But self-sacrifice isn't the way out! There's still Ascension..."
The words flew off my tongue before I realized how wrong I was. He had just told me he wouldn't be welcome in the world of the living.
That's why in the show he didn't try to find a way to save himself, but chose self-sacrifice.
"Ascension is our victory," he said. "But also a confirmation that our path was not the only correct one."
"What do you mean?"
"The Ori," the man explained. "Our brothers, our bitter enemies. As I understand from your story, they are the only advanced beings in our home galaxy, which we inhabited long before the Milky Way. They chose the path of radical clericalism, believing that Ascension could only be achieved through an exclusively spiritual path, through religion. We, on the other hand, relied on science. From your story, I conclude that there has not been a single Ascension achieved through technical means."
"As far as I know," I corrected. "It's possible that others..."
"Others are a separate conversation; we are speaking only of the Alterans and the Ori, of our fundamental contradictions that led to what is happening now," my companion said sternly. "You wanted to know the reason why the Ascended Ancients are so prim and do not seek to Ascend all their followers?"
To be honest, that wasn't what I wanted to know. I hadn't even mentioned it! What was he talk—
And then it hit me.
It wasn't me who wanted to know; it was him. And the Aurora's Commander wasn't telling me this now for no reason.
"The Ori draw energy from their followers," I recalled. "And the Ancients..."
It was almost hard to say. Ganos Lal had nearly killed me for almost mentioning it.
"Hypocrisy is a hereditary trait," the man smiled sadly. "We had it, and we passed it on to you. And I do not think the differences in universes are as critical as we think."
"But the Ancients don't have that many followers... billions of people don't even know they exist!"
"Is it so important to believe in specific representatives, or is it enough to revere their deeds?" the Aurora's Commander asked. "Does the material of the wiring have a great influence on the flow of energy to the reactor? If the goal is still to obtain energy from the source?"
"By any means, but not directly," I whispered.
"You understand," the Aurora's Commander said with relief. "I am glad. I hope you also understand that this knowledge must not be voiced. Otherwise..."
"Otherwise, some Ascended volunteer will come for my soul," I replied succinctly.
"More likely, some fervent believer in the Ancestors, as we are called here, will have a revelation that you are a great evil," my companion smiled sadly. "Such are the realities, Mikhail. The Ancients lie."
It stung me as if I'd been lashed with a whip of fire.
That was roughly what was written in Chaya's laptop when she became human on Atlantis. Only it wasn't the Ancients, but the Others... but is the difference really that great?
Except now everything was falling into place.
The Council could have easily forbidden this Lantean from leading a mission doomed to fail. They could have simply taken him into custody if their compatriot was dear to them. Sent the ship under the command of someone like Trebal—thankfully, she and other crew members have the Ancient gene. Not all of them, but the key officers and specialists like Ikhaar do.
But they didn't.
They could have stayed in Atlantis for another thousand years, waiting for the right moment to save the Aurora and its people. The galaxy is vast, and the Wraith couldn't be everywhere. For heaven's sake, they could have sent cloaked Jumpers to Lantea-2 to replenish construction resources. They could have grown crops and built ships on Taranis! How many such planets without Wraith were there across the galaxy? Even if there were no Stargates, they could have...
You can do anything if you're prepared to make sacrifices.
But if you intend to bury the truth at any cost... you leave the city, go to Earth, and simply walk away from the problems, doing one last thing to make sure everything runs like clockwork.
"Not great," I finally agreed. "Thank you. I used to think my guesses... were just the delusions of a fan, but now..."
"I would consider it one of the reasons why you were chosen, and not someone else," the Aurora's Commander smiled.
And I thought it was just because I was cooperative.
"Give a man a fish, and he'll be fed for a day," I muttered. "Teach him to fish, and he'll live... a bit longer."
The Aurora's Commander thought for a moment. Then he smiled approvingly.
"Your world has good idioms. Everyone can find something of their own and something instructive. I hope our descendants in this universe are just as sensible."
Sensible, sure... but there are a couple of nuances.
"I'd like to know if the Ascended Ancients have a nagging itch over the fact that Ascension cannot be achieved through technical means," I smirked. "Only spiritually, just as the Ori said."
"From what I know, they weren't entirely right either," my companion said. "But at the same time, Ascension is proof of how far from the truth even advanced sentients can be if they are subject to the influence of dogmas. And the difference between these indisputable viewpoints—science or spirituality—is not so important. The main thing is not to let them distort one's perception of the world and lead to a path of absolute enmity."
Which is exactly what happened. With both the Ancients and the Ori... God, what a viper's nest this place really is.
I felt sick at heart. At the very least because my origin, my physiology, and my resources already put me on the punching board for both teams of "coaches." And this is the kind of chess where the opponent can easily jam a rook in your eye or bash your head with the board.
"Our time is coming to an end," the Aurora's Commander turned grim, returning to the console before him. "Before you go, I would like to help you one last time. You will need to memorize and enter my code into the Aurora's main computer. Any console linked to the primary systems will do. There should be several near your pod."
"Self-destruct," I realized.
"First and foremost," the Captain nodded. "As well as the communiqué we were supposed to deliver to the Aurora. Unfortunately, it is too large to transmit to your ship in time..."
"And your transmitter is a mess..."
"Yes, it was clearly destroyed in the battle," the Aurora's Commander agreed. "You will have to initiate the self-destruct first, and then extract the main computer. By that time, the program will be running, and you will have some time to leave the Aurora. The systems will be powered by... what did you call it?"
"A ZPM."
"Yes, the battery will become the catalyst for the detonation. I am sorry I cannot give it to you—with limited resources, it could have helped you in battle. But..."
"We could have blasted the ship with drones."
"You know where to find new ZPMs, but the drone production facility was destroyed long ago," the Aurora's Commander said. "That is a resource you cannot replenish without mortal danger. You understand what I mean."
Of course I did. He was talking about the Asurans, who perfectly replicate Ancient technology. Including ZPMs and drones. Except they have a burning desire to destroy the Ancient legacy as revenge for the past.
Using the ZPM to blow up the ship was the only way to destroy the Aurora with minimal losses. A defeat for the sake of a strategic victory. A possible victory.
Captain... Damn it, how can this be!
"The main computer is located right here," the Captain showed me the information on the ship's deck plan. "Disconnecting it isn't difficult; just flip the switch and disconnect the data and power buses. It is important to take all ten crystals. I cannot say why, but you will understand in time. If I were you, I would pay attention to the red one first..."
Another hint.
"Thank you for everything," I said, shaking his hand with feeling. "I'm so sorry I can't do more..."
"One cannot overcome the influence of a black hole with a screwdriver and some fishing line," the Captain smiled. "There are situations in which we cannot win. I hope the Aurora will be a valuable lesson for you. Learn from the mistakes of others, especially since there were so many of them."
"Thank you for the lesson, Captain," and I wasn't lying. In the couple of hours spent by his side, I felt as if I were filled with... no, irony is completely inappropriate at moments like this.
This man had indeed proven to be an excellent teacher. It's such a shame that...
A shame. But not a shame! Because for every clever... and so on!
"I think it's time for me to go."
"Promise me two things, Mikhail," the Captain addressed me.
"Anything."
"Then three things," the man smiled. "First—never say that to someone you cannot guaranteed to deceive."
"Fair point," I agreed. Unexpected wisdom from the Ancients. "The second?"
"When a ship's crew returned from a dangerous mission, a toast was raised in their honor," the Aurora's Commander spoke of the tradition. "My crew has fulfilled its task. We were betrayed, forgotten, and erased from history. The only thing left for us..."
"Is a toast in your honor," I understood. "Without fail, Captain. I am certain this toast will be raised by members of your crew as well. You will not be forgotten. I promise."
"I believe you," the Captain nodded. "And finally... take care of her. Watch your jaw, Mikhail."
It seemed like two requests in one, but... I didn't have time to clarify what the Captain meant.
A flash of light, darkness...
***
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