"A couple of minutes and it will be ready," Chaya said, withdrawing a thin, barely visible crystalline needle from Teyla's vein. The transparent vial, the size of a pinky finger, filled to the brim with the Athosian's venous blood, was carefully detached from the collection device and placed into the receiving compartment of the Ancient computer. The Proculucian secured a strip of healing plaster over the puncture site, then moved to the device's control panel. Her fingers fluttered over the glowing panel.
"Do you think it will be possible to implant the gene Mikhail mentioned into me?" Teyla asked, carefully observing the Ancient's actions. Although she claimed not to be very strong in medicine, she acted confidently.
"It's unlikely to succeed," Chaya admitted. "Genetic therapy, even in the best of times, didn't implant this gene into every sentient being. And the response rate was extremely low. Only after generations did it become possible to strengthen it through a combination of genes of different strengths and intervention. I want to examine your blood to check something."
"Do you think I'm sick?" Teyla worried.
"No," Chaya smiled. "I scanned you and Alvar on the first day. Your health is quite satisfactory, considering the development of your culture."
"Then why do it?" Emagan continued to inquire.
"Much has changed during the time the Ancients were absent from the galaxy," the girl said. "Including the biomes of the planets you and Jensen visited. New microorganisms, diseases, and so on, unknown to the Lantians, have emerged. I suspect you may have contracted some of them. If antibodies remain in your blood, it will allow me to develop medicines in case Mikhail and I get infected."
"I understand," Teyla said. "My people would be grateful for such help. Our healers are trying their best, but with machines like these," she looked at the numerous Ancient devices scattered throughout the medical bay with poorly concealed admiration. "Many lives could be saved."
"Probably," Chaya agreed after thinking. "However, don't deify our technology. It can do much that your doctors cannot, but not everything. I doubt there is a cure for all diseases. For example, despite its entire history, millions of years of evolution and technological progress, the Ancients never managed to defeat a simple cold. It seems like a common ailment, yet it's precisely this that allows our body to strengthen its defenses against harmful objects."
"There's a legend among my people that the Ancients could heal people just by touching them," Teyla recalled.
"Yes, that's possible," Chaya confirmed. "However, to do so, one must develop their body and mind far beyond my or Mikhail's current state. Perhaps one day we will approach the Lantians, but..." she gave a strained smile, looking at the Athosian. "Not today. And not tomorrow."
"The main thing is not to give up," Teyla smiled diplomatically.
For a while, the girls were silent, after which Emagan asked:
"Are there disagreements between you and Mikhail?"
Chaya, continuously looking at the monitor, froze for a moment, looking away as if trying to find words for an answer. Then she looked at the Athosian and nodded, confirming the correctness of her guess.
"You don't like that he doesn't share his secrets with you?" Teyla guessed.
Chaya didn't answer, pursing her lips and looking at her hands. It was unlikely she was interested in them, but... It seemed she was simply embarrassed and looking for the right words.
"I can keep secrets," Teyla assured her. "Especially since I know how much someone to talk to is sometimes needed."
"It's not about Mikhail himself," Chaya said, looking at her. "I don't remember what happened to me when I Ascended, but I still have memories of living in a human body. And I remember well who I was and what I did. There are actions I am very ashamed of, which I am not proud of. And I also know that Mikhail behaves the same way as a typical Lantian towards assimilated peoples. He prioritizes his plans and gives orders. I'm afraid it will all happen again — and we'll only learn the truth when it's too late."
"I don't think scandals can fix anything," Chaya said. "You could have just sat down and discussed it in private..."
The Ancient looked at her with a skeptical gaze.
"Or," Teyla sighed, "one has to accept that men in any community don't like talking about their affairs."
"And the higher a man's position, the less he wants to share his plans with subordinates," Chaya sighed. "Sometimes we are no more than service personnel to them."
"I wouldn't say Mikhail treats us like servants," Chaya objected. "He's not a model of virtue, of course, but he's not a tyrant either."
"Perhaps," Chaya gave a meager smile. "But I think if he learns something about his genetics, he will sharply reconsider his attitude towards us."
"Is he sick?"
"If boundless ego and self-importance can be called a disease, then I think he's in a nearly terminal stage," Chaya admitted. "You see... The Ancient technology activation gene wasn't invented for no reason. It's a special part of our blood that many Lantians and peoples close to them inherit from generation to generation. Although our descendants call all peoples close to the Lantians Ancients or Ancestors, there is a big difference between us. First of all, the Lantians were and remain the dominant race of the Ancients in the Pegasus galaxy. All those who joined them..."
"Were slaves?" Teyla was horrified.
"No, what are you saying," Chaya was taken aback. "The main ideology of the Ancients is freedom of choice and the consequences that choice entails. But, let's say... the Lantians were not in a hurry to introduce assimilated races to all their knowledge. Yes, they revealed the secrets of the universe to us, but only those that we could understand and comprehend. Some races perished at the hands of the Wraiths, never managing to cope with the understanding of even this basis. Of other races, like mine, for example, only a few understood the value of the gift provided to us. We strove to comprehend the knowledge of the Ancients in its entirety. But when it came to specific categories of knowledge, the Lantians refused to reveal these secrets. They said we were too young for it."
"Was this knowledge dangerous?" Teyla clarified.
"Much of it — more than you think," the Ancient admitted.
"Perhaps they were right after all?" Emagan asked. "We, although not as developed as the Ancients, still don't give our children knives even for cutting meat until they understand how dangerous these items are. Some understand this at a young age, some, even as adolescents, treat our warnings carelessly."
"They explained their decisions in a similar way," the Ancient smiled. "But not everyone understood and accepted their warnings. This led to significant problems within the society of the Ancients. Moreover, we, the younger peoples, saw that the problems could have been avoided, but the Lantians were in no hurry to listen to our ideas. As a result, almost all the younger races perished in the war with the Wraiths, and the Lantians themselves left this galaxy."
"Do you think Mikhail is as deaf to arguments and your advice as other Lantians?"
"Moreover," Chaya sighed. "Genetically, he is more Ancient than I am. The strength of his gene corresponds to a good value among Lantians. And I'm afraid this will play a cruel trick on him. Therefore, I don't want to tell him that he can interact with Ancient technology better than I can."
"Why? You said that the better the interaction, the easier it is to control. Is that bad?"
"You see, a strong Ancient gene in itself is a blessing. Because it provides access to communication through neural interfaces of the Lantians' complex equipment. For example, control over the command chair, or mental commands for shuttles. He can do it with just a fleeting thought. But I need concentration and attentiveness. Where he can do several things at once using the same chair, for example, adjusting shield parameters, controlling engines, weapons, hyperdrive systems, or blocking individual parts of the city, I can only do one thing, maybe a couple of things. Yes, of course, I can activate systems using the good old buttons on the control panels, but... it's not quite the same as controlling with the power of thought."
"So, somewhere he is stronger than you, and somewhere you surpass him," Teyla understood. "And you think he will refuse your help if he finds out what's really going on?"
"There's a chance," Chaya admitted. "And I'm afraid, in that case, he will make an irreparable mistake. You know, I and several of my colleagues from the Younger Ancients even developed a theory that the quality of the Ancient gene influenced, among other things, brain chemistry. Because of this, the Lantians were not as insightful as they should have been."
"And you decided that Mikhail would be just as short-sighted," Teyla gasped.
"Yes."
"Therefore, you decided it would be better to protect him from this knowledge so that he wouldn't do anything foolish?" the Athosian smiled shyly, looking into Chaya's eyes. The Ancient nodded affirmatively, examining the images on her screen.
"It seems you recently condemned other Lantians for this," Emagan innocently pointed out the logical flaw in the Proculucian's reasoning.
"But I'm doing it for good reasons!" Chaya objected.
"Just like we on Athos protect our children from dangers," Teyla agreed. "But... you couldn't have thought that the Lantians did the same to you for the same reasons?"
"I thought about it, of course, we talked about it..."
"But you condemn their behavior, and not your own," Teyla spread her hands. "You're angry at Mikhail for not sharing his plans with you. But... Maybe he doesn't see the same from you, and therefore is cautious?"
The Proculucian froze, furrowing her brow, then looked at the Athosian in bewilderment. Teyla, in her usual manner, smiled conciliatingly.
"We have a saying, 'Don't point a finger at someone who looks like you'," she shared an old Athosian wisdom. "You want to protect him from mistakes, he wants to help us all... I think you just need to tell each other your hidden thoughts and concerns. On Athos, such conversations and joint meditations help avoid family conflicts."
"I doubt he knows even one meditation pose," the Ancient grumbled unexpectedly. "He'll probably just fall asleep as soon as he tries to achieve harmony of mind and spirit."
"Is it worth condemning him when you haven't even started?" Emagan asked. "Try it, it's probably worth it."
Chaya was distracted by an audible signal from her unfolding computer.
"The gates have activated," the Ancient said. "Mikhail and Alvar are returning. It seems they found what they were looking for."
"I think we should meet them?" Teyla suggested.
"Your blood analysis is not yet complete," Chaya said. She looked at another computer, then said, "And besides, data has arrived from the reconnaissance drone I sent to the satellite... I need to study all of this before informing the others..."
"Running away from a problem and a conversation is not the same as solving it," Teyla suggested. "If you don't plow the garden in the warm season, it will be too late to mourn the lost harvest by the cold."
"You know," Chaya moved away from the computer and lifted her chin. "I'm not as boastful as the Lantians. And not as arrogant as they are. I'll go and talk to him. Honestly and openly!"
"That's more like it," Teyla approved.
"But," the Ancient returned to her computer, her face showing an expression of concentration, "tomorrow."
Smiling, Emagan approached her companion and took her arm.
"Don't make me remind you that the Ancients got into a lot of trouble because they didn't want to listen to the younger peoples," she said, gently pulling Chaya towards the exit.
"I shouldn't have told you about this," Chaya grumbled.
"On the contrary," Teyla smiled dazzlingly. "You are taking steps on a path different from the one the Lantians took. Perhaps our path will not have the same mistakes they made?"
"I really hope so," Chaya's face darkened.
* * *
After arriving at Atlantis, I had two questions immediately.
First: why did they need to meet us in the gate hall if, in the end, we all went to the laboratory to connect the probe to the scanners?
Second: and what did the girls talk about during our absence, for Chaya to stop pretending I didn't exist?
In any case, the probe we delivered, which, as I recall, contained the knowledge of an entire alien race, could not simply be connected to the Ancient computer. It required time.
In fact, time was also needed to connect the hard drive-like devices that Alvar and I had extracted from the servers and also delivered to Atlantis. Yes, the first trip for weapons turned into us delivering a large amount of informational goods. Yes, we also brought rifles and ammunition, but only a few boxes. Two, to be precise. The rest simply wouldn't fit in the jumper.
Sitting and waiting for Chaya to figure out how to connect the information sources would be foolish. Therefore, the most obvious solution would be to continue what we had started. But, here's a surprise, it wasn't without initiative.
"The preparations on Athos are nearing completion," Teyla reminded me. "Chaya has already found us a suitable planet that is safe."
"Such data was provided by a reconnaissance drone," the Ancient clarified. "But it cannot assess everything. I left it in near-Earth orbit, it's scanning the planet. There has been no sign of gate activity for a long time. Studying the dialing device indicates that the gates haven't been used for at least a thousand years. No settlements have been found, so you will most likely be the first to settle there in a long time."
"The Wraiths might have forgotten about this planet for a while," Alvar said. "But that doesn't mean there's nothing to threaten them in the new world. It would be better if I taught a few people how to handle rifles."
"That would help us protect ourselves in case of a threat," Teyla added.
"And the unlooted depots on your planet, should they remain?" I asked the fugitive.
"You have a ship, you have free time," he shrugged. "I think if you try hard enough, you can fly to the depot right in the 'jumper.' It will be easier to load everything that way."
Teyla and Alvar took a box of rifles with them, as well as a dozen magazines for each. The training of recruits on Athos is about to begin, yes.
So, everyone has important things to do, and I'm free as an asteroid falling on a dinosaur's head. But, as it turned out, it's not that simple.
By my calculations, the "jumper" could only enter the tunnel with its engines retracted. That is, in the state it is in when parked or passing through gates. And in such a position, the ship cannot stay for a long time — the automation doesn't allow it.
Therefore, I will have to "spread my wings" from time to time to charge the anti-gravity cushion. Or whatever the "jumper" uses to fly in that position. I think intersections of corridors would be suitable for this, there's much more space there than in the tunnels themselves.
In any case, even the most arduous path through the corridors to the depots is better than carrying dozens of weapons on my back. Fortunately, Alvar dispelled my doubts about the explosiveness of the storage method for grenades and mines. The locals made them well, so there was no need to worry about corrosion and the jokes of physics.
Well, since we decided to empty the depots on this planet, there's no need to worry about masking the complex. A couple of drones were enough to destroy the disguised passage into the tunnel. Then, it's just a matter of technique — to turn the "jumper" stern first and back up. As silly as it sounds. The main thing is not to say it out loud.
If the ship didn't have a sufficiently advanced piloting system with mental command response, I'm afraid I wouldn't be able to maneuver so skillfully in the tunnels without rearview mirrors. And so, I barely passed through the turns.
Jensen explained how to find the other warehouses – they were only about a kilometer apart along the tunnels. Estimating from the complex's map, compiled with the "jumper's" scanners, I realized there were about fifty warehouses in total. Well, I hope Tayla and Alvar won't shirk their duties as loaders long enough to help me.
On my second solo "trip," I abandoned the method of loading weapons in crates. Alva and I used to transport weapons like this: first, we'd take a crate of assault rifles, remove the padding for careful storage of rifles and pistols, fill it with either loaded magazines or loose rounds to fill the empty space, and then place the crates in the jumper's cargo bay. Data carriers were stored in the cabin, but I was no longer in the mood for such logistical games.
I must say, the weapon manufacturers in Jensen's homeland were quite inventive when it came to safety. I realized this when I decided to scan the grenades and mines to ensure their safety. Basically, the mechanism was standard – a casing, explosive material inside, a detonator running through the center, activated by pulling a pin. A safety lever allowed for a delay, but I had no intention of testing that just yet. The unique feature of the design was that a dielectric material ran inside, between the explosive and the detonator, which only decomposed when the detonator was activated. In fact, you couldn't pull out the dielectric without fully pulling out the pin. That's why Jensen was so calm about safety.
However, I decided to test the dielectric's resistance to impact and drops another time.
The dielectric itself resembled silicone – it was also used to protect the base of un-loaded cartridges in magazines and clips in the warehouse. All of this did the deceased people honor – they were truly preparing for their weapons to last for a long time and be used decades later.
There was little metal in the automatic rifles, pistols, and other "firearms" – only key elements. The body, fore-end, stock, grip, even magazines, sights, adjustment screws, mounts for "attachments" – all made of dielectric polymer. It was so durable that even with a local knife, you couldn't leave scratches or nicks without great effort.
An interesting material. The more I get acquainted with the products of local industry, the more respect I gain. Yes, I suspect they or their ancestors didn't come up with this on their own, but still! This is colossal progress. I'll need to test this polymer for resistance to energy weapons later. If the test results are attractive, this material can be used everywhere.
Because the sanity of Atlantis's builders raises big questions for me. The thing is, the load-bearing structures of the city-ship, its foundation, are made of several types of metals. But the "skyscrapers"... Their hulls and floors are made of something resembling reinforced concrete, similar to what I saw. Yes, it's lighter than metal of the same thickness and density, and its strength is appropriate for the tasks, as is its airtightness, but... Metal fatigue is a real thing.
Atlantis is several million years old. Yes, it has been rebuilt and repaired, but... For the last ten thousand years, the metal base has been subjected to millions of tons of weight. It's no wonder that in some places, the metal structures have simply sagged and deformed.
But these are all distant plans that I'm unlikely to realize in my lifetime. Therefore, the priority was to supply the city and its inhabitants with everything the lost civilization could share with us.
First and foremost, I was interested in small arms and melee weapons. Chai asked me the reason for this choice when I delivered the fourth "jumper," packed to the brim with weapons and ammunition. I generously scattered the ammunition into chests, each of which held a whole crate of assault rifles and pistols. I unloaded the weapons, placing them directly on top of the chests, the cargo bay floor, and the cockpit, hanging them on the seat backs with the included straps.
"We have pulse blasters," Chai noted when I delivered another batch of weapons to Atlantis. Incidentally, this was all the "firearms" that were in that storage. But it was too early to relax – next were the adjacent rooms with uniforms, footwear, equipment, medical supplies, and so on. If I'm lucky, I'll even get a dynamo machine from there. We don't need it, of course, but the Atosians will find it useful. Place one in the middle of the settlement, dig a dozen poles around the perimeter, run the wiring, plug in some borrowed light bulbs – and voilà, comfort. Not to mention that Jensen's kin have something similar to our diesel generators. Though we'll have to transport the fuel barrels too. There are about a hundred of those barrels – I glanced into the room where they were stored. Each holds about two hundred liters, so you can't transport many at once. Not to mention there are no forklifts there. Only by your own muscle power.
"Yes, we do," I agreed, looking at another "jumper" that I'll use to go to the ruins. Logically, I could barely feel my muscles after loading the previous four "jumpers." And I really didn't want to unload them at all. At least, as long as there are flying and empty machines. "But throughout the city, in the areas we've been to, we've found only about ten. And even then, half will need servicing and repair. We have a supply of power crystals for them, and they are destructive and deadly in combat. However, I think the Wraiths will easily detect the connection between their fallen soldiers, with burned holes in their bodies, and the Lantian weapons. We shouldn't reveal our presence in the galaxy any more than we already have."
On the fifth "trip," I transported all the uniforms, ammunition, and other equipment from that warehouse to Atlantis. Including coils with a couple of kilometers of that very wire that saved Alvar from a fugitive's life.
What can I say? Now we have at least a huge range of boots, very similar to combat boots, but made of fabrics and polymer that can withstand a knife strike. You definitely won't pierce your foot with a rusty nail in them while walking through the ashes.
I understand what Jensen meant when he asked about camouflage. There were about ten types of it in that warehouse – very similar to Earth variants not only in pattern formation but even in color. There were also solid-colored sets – black, dark gray, gray, dark green, and other colors. Without insignia, but with places for attaching patches and chevrons. However, not the Velcro I'm familiar with, but more like adhesive bases on soundproofing sheets: peel off the protective layer and stick whatever you want. I tried, out of curiosity, to attach a holster case to a couple of "landing spots"... Half an hour later, I couldn't tear it off the once-sticky spot. And I tried my best.
However, I think they're not for that, as such "adhesive spots" are scattered across the camouflage from torso to legs. Besides uniforms, they were present on almost every piece of equipment or protection.
Helmets, backpacks with backs that don't cause discomfort, ballistic goggles with a relatively good darkening effect and night vision device, pouches, tactical vests, knee, elbow, shoulder protection, polymer body armor... I doubt the latter will protect against Wraith stunners, but who's stopping us from checking if the opportunity arises? It would be desirable to acquire Wraith weapons without the Wraiths themselves.
However, small tests showed that at close and medium range, the protective elements hold up against large-caliber bullets fired by Ermen's gunsmiths. I have no particular desire to test the effect behind the armor on myself, but I think the camouflage suits themselves have a layer of porous but elastic material for a reason.
At first, the armor elements, pouches, and external pockets, which, if they had fastening and adjustment straps, had only one, caused me bewilderment. Then, I realized that the "adhesive spots" were suspiciously close to the places where additional elements were installed. And everything fell into place – the "spots" were for attachment, and the straps were for adjusting the fit to body parts.
I don't understand why the inhabitants of Ermen used so little polymer in their protection, but I suspect that, although widely used, it's still not cheap. And covering a fighter from head to toe with armor is a strange logic. On the other hand, all vital areas are covered.
The presence of such uniforms greatly pleased me. I immediately found a complete set, equipped it according to my own discretion and understanding. And, I must say, it's quite well designed. Comfortable, doesn't restrict movement, quite light... I suspect that this miracle polymer, which the Ermen gunsmiths used to make weapons and protection, would be very useful in the domestic armed forces.
And, what couldn't but please me, were the quite familiar zipper fasteners, pockets, and snap closures. No futuristic magnetic rivets or similar zipper technology. Simple, cheap, effective, and, most importantly for supplying an army, quite cheap to produce.
Yes, I didn't give up my personal shield, hiding it in the breast pocket of the gray-blue suit I chose for everyday wear. One thought, and the shield activates, sticking to the fabric and pressing against my body. Convenient, damn it: can't lose it in a closed pocket, and always usable, always "at hand," so to speak.
I smiled when, in one of the equipment crates, I dug up something resembling balaclavas made of stretchy fabric. It's unlikely to save you from a bullet or a knife, but from identification, wind, sand, and dust – it's quite suitable. The "mask shows" of the Pegasus galaxy, it seems, are familiar. Or they will become so over time.
[Image of Ermen infantry ammunition. Image from the Internet.]
My changing clothes almost cost me my life when, on the fifth trip, I returned to the jumper hangar, opened the stern hatch, and headed through the piles of all the necessary things towards the exit of the ship, when I saw Chai. The girl was rummaging through the contents of my previous "jumper," examining a handgun with interest. It was already loaded with a magazine, by the way.
My appearance in full combat gear led to unexpected consequences. As soon as I stepped out of the shadows and called her, realizing that the membrane fabric of the balaclava distorted my voice, a shot rang out.
In my past life, bullets hit my body armor a couple of times. I got away with broken ribs and bruises.
But there's a nuance.
The caliber of the Ermen gunsmiths' cartridges is ten millimeters, almost machine-gun caliber. At the same time, the bullets are of different shapes, but looking at what they turn into after hitting a target, I have no desire to encounter them.
Expanding bullets, which significantly increase in diameter after hitting a target, are not something you want to test on yourself. Even if you have body armor made of super-strong alien polymer. I think the Wraiths, with their enviable regeneration, wouldn't particularly want to feel metal "shards" inside them.
"Subspace interference, Mikhail!" Chai's frightened face appeared above me as she pulled the helmet and balaclava off my head. "Why are you dressed like that?!"
Blinking a couple of times, I realized I was actually lying on the hangar floor. And just a few seconds ago, I was standing firmly on my feet.
My chest hurt so much that I couldn't immediately take a breath. Thanks to the Proculucian, who lifted my head, I looked at my chest plate. It wasn't pierced, but I must admit, the polymer failed the test for "uber-strong" material. The plate over my heart, where the bullet hit, was cracked, but it didn't lose its overall shape.
"Lie down, I'll scan you," Chai pulled out an Ancient scanner from somewhere, took out a thin white glowing strip connected to the main part by a transparent wire from the back wall, and began to move it over me – from head to toe.
I not only couldn't find words to comment on the situation, but even my thoughts had flown away somewhere.
"Slight bruise," she said with a sigh of relief, helping me sit up. "Why did you put that on? I didn't recognize you in your usual attire!"
"You're lucky I don't shoot when you change clothes," I said, coughing. "You should be in the lab! Analyzing data!"
"Almost finished, just conversion left," Chai helped me to my feet. "Are you dizzy? Seeing double? Pain in the back of your head?"
"No, I'm fine," I said, taking a step to the side and almost falling, but the girl caught me by the arm in time. "I suppose, to reconcile, you just need to shoot me..."
"Primate!" Chai winced. Yes, calling a human a "primate" or "primitive" is considered an insult among the Ancients. In fact, you could get hit on the jaw on Earth if you called your interlocutor a monkey. What an intelligent curse... Darwin would appreciate it. "What if I had shot you in the head?"
"Then I would have thought about the consequences," I said, leaning against the jumper's entrance hatch, taking a few seconds to recover. Unpleasant sensations – as if I'd been hit in the chest with a sledgehammer. Unhooking the chest plate, I unzipped my jacket, looked around... Yeah, there's going to be a nasty bruise, but no fractures. In principle, a perfectly normal balance of protective and offensive technologies. If only the plates didn't crack... However, I don't think the inhabitants of Ermen thought they would use weapons against their own. It's quite possible that these body armors hold up perfectly against smaller caliber firearms. Well, and Wraith weapons don't kill anyway – just damage the food.
"I'm very sorry," Chai said. "You should have warned me..."
"I'm warning you now," I said honestly. "For the next test, you wear the body armor. And I'll take a rifle. A sniper rifle. It seems to have a larger caliber bullet."
"Is that a joke?"
"Put on the armor and step aside," I advised, zipping up my jacket. It's okay, I'll live. Turning the plate over, I saw that the crack only went through the outer layer. The inner layer was intact, not even indented where the bullet hit. Miracles, however. Considering that the local population of Pegasus predominantly uses either bows-crossbows or firearms of about 5-6 millimeters caliber, I think the protection against the natives is of excellent quality.
"I'm very sorry this happened," Chai repeated. "I came here to fly to Ermen with you."
"Decided to help load medical supplies and canned food?" I asked, surprised, walking towards the next unloaded "jumper" in line. These were the goals I set for myself for subsequent "trips."
Chai followed me silently like a tail. Until I advised her to change into clothes more suitable for climbing through ruins. The girl, still clearly upset about her actions, silently ran into the just-parked "jumper." I, meanwhile, went to the new one.
"Well, I don't have a couple of hours to wait to pick out boots that match my eye color," I sighed, starting the ship after a couple of minutes of waiting. It's not that I was thinking of taking her with me at all, I just tried to estimate if I had enough strength to make a couple more "trips." I suspect I have enough for today, so it's time to seal the hatch...
"Thanks for waiting," Chai said, settling into the co-pilot's seat. Dressed in the same gray-blue uniform, with combat boots, laced up, not just tied through the two middle loops, she zipped up her jacket to her neck. "Sometimes it's good to get out somewhere together."
"You should put the pistol aside," I advised. My plan to use the personal shield in a moment of danger didn't quite work out – I didn't even have time to think about it.
"I've put it on safety," the girl assured me as I finished entering the Ermen gate address and lowered the ship to the gate level. "You don't have to worry – Tayla and Alvar reported they're staying on Atos until tomorrow. The gate shield will activate automatically as soon as we leave."
"Are you sure you turned everything off?" I asked, still not understanding why she "tailed" me. "The iron, the curling iron, the epilator, the alien probe..."
"Why are you asking that question?" Chai asked.
"Well, I wouldn't want to come back to a burned-down house in a couple of hours..."
"I've thought of everything," the girl assured me a second before we flew into the "puddle" of the gate.
After emerging on the other side, I directed the ship along the usual route.
"Tell me," I asked. "Any news about our findings?"
"A little," Chai admitted, clearly pleased that we had moved on to discussing important matters. "The probe you brought belongs to the Sekkari race. They are one of the few silicon-based life forms in Pegasus. Unfortunately, they died about forty thousand years ago – even Atlantis's database doesn't have precise information about them."
"Sekkari?" I repeated. "Not 'sicari'?"
"No, the translation is accurate," it seems my memory failed me in the details. "The Lantians contacted them, exchanged knowledge, offered an alliance. But the Sekkari were isolationists. And, as stated in the database, 'our paths of knowledge of the Universe were similar, but differed in methods and goals, which made joint research impossible.'"
"Did the Lantians kill them?"
"No, what are you talking about. They simply forgot about them. The Lantians only learned that the Sekkari had died out during the war with the Wraiths, when one of the ships retreated to their planet. It turned out that their experiments had made the planet uninhabitable, which led to the race's demise. But, as I understand it, they constructed these probes to colonize other worlds."
"Why didn't they use the stargates to leave the planet?" I asked, interested.
"There's no mention of them in the database at all. I suspect there couldn't have been stargates on their planet – that's why the Ancients didn't discover the Sekkari at the beginning of their journey."
As an option. The hypothesis is no worse than any other.
"And the spaceships?"
"Unfortunately, they didn't master interstellar travel. They were probably only interested in near space and their own world. There are no details, and we're unlikely to ever know the specifics."
"Well, why not. I recall that the probe contains all the information about this race, as well as artificial intelligence," I recalled.
"Oh," Chai exclaimed. "Your knowledge from the future again?"
"It is again," I confirmed. "So, what about this data and artificial intelligence? I recall it was quite advanced."
"On the data carriers from Ermen, I found curious information," Chai continued. "The ancestors of Jensen's people discovered the probe and, over several generations, managed to access its information. This allowed them to make a qualitative technological leap in various fields. But by then, the Wraiths were already active in the galaxy. The race was almost completely destroyed, as were the objects of their achievements."
"But they hid their works in the dungeons."
"And then Alvar's direct ancestors discovered the knowledge repositories," Chai continued. "I think they were descendants of the miraculously surviving representatives of the previous human civilization. Because they quickly figured out the information from the repository."
"They developed, prepared, but later the Wraiths came," I lowered the "jumper" into the crater and began to turn. "The Wheel of Fortune turned again. But don't you think they got too little knowledge from the encyclopedia of an entire race that even the Ancients were interested in?"
"They took everything they could from the probe," Chai said sadly. "At the same time, they damaged a significant portion of the data, including the artificial intelligence. I found traces of repair attempts inside the probe, however..."
"Did they only make it worse?" I clarified, starting the "jumper" backward into the tunnel.
"Yes. Alvar's ancestors received only fragments of knowledge, but they used them. Then their descendants came and used their developments."
"So, we have the complete database of Jensen's people?" I asked.
"That's exactly why I'm here," Chai admitted. "A significant portion of the data is damaged and cannot be restored. But some hard drives still contain interesting data that we can use for our purposes. However... I still hope that there are other information repositories – at least the records say that the Ermen fragmented their knowledge into specialized databases, which they distributed throughout the dungeons. I found mentions of typical distribution schemes for such repositories. Each city had one main and about ten secondary data repositories. They were divided by specialization – aviation, weapons, industry, energy, and so on. I don't think we'll find much new, or anything at all. The Ermen couldn't create data storage devices resistant to external influences. It's been either two or three thousand years... Their chronicles are very fragmented. But I think if we find at least other 'corrupted' databases of the previous civilization, we can restore more data. Including historical chronicles."
"Wait," I interrupted the girl. "Do you mean to say that the servers were created not by Jensen's compatriots, but by a previous version of the Ermen?"
"Yes," Chai said. "Jensen's people and their direct ancestors only used this data. They understood some of it, developed some of it themselves. But they couldn't achieve superiority over their predecessors – they were actively exploring space, even managed to build an interstellar state from their colonies and allies throughout Pegasus. But the Wraiths awoke and destroyed those who posed a danger to them..."
Something clicked in my head.
An interstellar state of colonies and allies. Sounds very, very familiar. It seems someone was parodying the Ancients.
And, on the other hand, who else to take an example from? From people who surpassed you in everything, of course. And the Ancients are clearly out of competition here.
"We need to ask Teyla if any of her acquaintances or trading partners have heard anything about this confederation of Ermen," I suggested. "I don't think the Wraiths could have destroyed them all. Someone might have survived, or hidden well. Since they had an interstellar confederation, similar servers might exist on other planets."
"Perhaps," Chaya agreed. "Though I'm not particularly hopeful. I'm more interested in local mechanisms and remnants of technology."
"For what purpose?"
"When you said that using firearms would be the best way to disguise our Lantian origin, I thought our scout drones were also a 'signature'," Chaya explained as the "jumper" reached a fork. I was finally able to disengage the engines and let the anti-grav charge.
"Speaking of which, yes," I agreed after a moment's thought. "So far, the Wraiths have nothing concrete. Only a single incident that could be dismissed as a coincidence. But if probes of Lantian design were flying through the gates, then it would be time to think about a new crusade against Atlantis. And that's not far from the full awakening of all the Wraiths in the galaxy."
"That's what I'd like to do, gather some equivalents of scout drones from local technologies," Chaya explained. "Also for the purpose of masking our affiliation. Lantian-made drones are too effective and too valuable to be used this way. With their help, I can do much more for Atlantis directly in our home system."
Sending Lantian probes on missions, one way or another, you could run into Wraiths and get scrap metal back. Or get nothing but a breach of secrecy. And, if Lantian technology is a pity, then local...
"Excellent idea," I agreed. "But we'll need a lot of local scrap metal to come up with something worthwhile."
"Agreed. But first, we need to search this planet for databases on energy. I found mentions of a compact reactor that could help us a lot."
"An analogue of the MNT?" I asked doubtfully.
"No," Chaya shook her head. "Not even close. But it can help us launch the 'Satellite'."
"How?"
"I sent a scout drone to inspect it. The Wraiths didn't destroy the satellite because it posed no danger to them. During the assault, they damaged the generator – the drone recorded that it was literally melted. However, thanks to energy buffering technology, any reasonably powerful energy source, like a nuclear reactor, if it's compact, can power the satellite. I have a few ideas on how to rebuild it and make it more efficient. But the problem is that it's far from Lantea, and we have no other power sources except for a single battery."
"MNT," I suggested. "Let's call it that?"
"What will change?" Chaya asked. "MNT, battery, zero-energy extraction device..."
"ZEED," I formed the first letters. "No, let's stick with MNT. It sounds more authoritative. The word 'battery' makes me associate it with heating radiators from my world."
"It makes no difference to me," Chaya shrugged.
"You're suspiciously benevolent," I doubted. "Did Teyla really bite you?"
"...How could that possibly be related?" Chaya was surprised. "The qualities of one living being cannot affect another when bitten. My physiology is more developed than hers, so my genetics dominate in case of conflict..."
"Shall I tell you a story about how several ancient humans were bitten by 'Iratus' bugs, and many years later they turned into Wraiths?" I suggested, lowering the "jumper" near the entrance to the corridor with the things that interested us.
"Thank you," Chaya chuckled softly. "After such stories, it will be hard for me to sleep. Especially if you describe in detail the process of the bugs absorbing human genetic traits and the evolutionary changes of the iratus bugs into Wraiths."
It seemed she had softened towards me after all. A great chance to improve relations with an Ancient who tends to get offended by others' lack of candor.
Ugh, they seem to be a higher race, but here are such human-like tears at the "primate" level. It's good that we're not a couple, otherwise she'd get jealous of Teyla, and goodbye, Athosians.
Lowering the ramp of the "jumper," I mused. Earth women, in revenge for their men, would beat their cars, burn them, draw obscenities, throw out things, and perform other small miracles.
And what would a jealous Ancient do? Blow up the star system where her ex lives? Cause a supervolcano eruption under the feet of his new flame? Drop an asteroid on the planet? Collapse a star into a black hole?
"Mikhail," Chaya's puzzled voice came from the cockpit. "Life detector..."
Before the ramp had fully lowered, I already understood what she wanted to tell me. Rushing to the tiny control panel, I pressed the emergency closing button for the bulkhead separating the pilot and cargo compartments of the "jumper."
The figures hiding in the dim corridor noticed my movements and opened fire.
Blinding shots rang out, and I was thrown back.
And then – darkness.