There are days when you absolutely don't want to wake up.
You slip beyond the edge of drowsiness, and you realize: it's not worth it, boy, there's only pain, despair, nausea, and your mouth feels like the entire neighborhood's outhouse has set up shop in it.
That's roughly how I felt at that moment.
"The dynamics of the indicators have changed," someone's female voice cut like a scalpel through my living flesh, and without anesthesia.
"Is that bad?" another female voice. Only, unlike the first, it was familiar. But where and when had I heard it?
"No, it's good, as far as I understand," the first lady replied. "Vital signs are normal, he's coming out of the coma."
"Finally," relief was audible in the second woman's voice. I felt someone holding my hand. "Mikhail, can you hear me?"
Damn it, woman! Why are you talking like a jackhammer?
"I hear you," I understood that it was my voice, but it felt like I was hearing it from a couple of meters away. Like shouting through a pipe... Normal such "trips." "Can you speak quieter?"
"I can't make anything out," the second woman said. "He's wheezing, gurgling, incoherent sounds..."
"These are likely the consequences of the double stroke he suffered," the first woman's voice sounded uncertain. "Apparently, the healing device couldn't eliminate all the damage to his brain..."
Great, damn it... What's going on?!
It took the effort of fifty Atlanteans to lift my eyelids. Oh, how I understand Gogol's character... It's a truly insurmountable task, it requires help.
But my eyelids lifted.
And immediately, as soon as the blurry haze before my eyes began to take on human contours, a bright light struck my eyes. First one, then the other...
"Pupils react to light, the brain is functioning, he's conscious," the gray-orange haze reported, receding. And my eyelids immediately became too heavy to lift. "I think he needs time to recover. From what I know, it's a miracle if he can even speak. We need to observe and prepare for any development. Up to the complete loss of Mikhail's capacity. Most likely, we are observing the degradation of higher nervous activity..."
Okay... This isn't funny anymore.
A minute ago, I was adjusting the orbit for the "Hippaphoralkus," and now I have strokes and the prospect of remaining a vegetable for the rest of my life?
A fun transmigration into my favorite universe, I wish it upon all my enemies. You should do this three times a day, and your back will stop hurting!
"Can we help him with anything?" the second woman asked.
"Unfortunately, I still know little about these systems. I would recommend placing him in stasis until I know more. And Ihaar promised to find something suitable for this situation in the Atlantis database."
"Stasis..." the second woman seemed to taste the word. "All processes in his body will be stopped. That's good if there's a cure. But what if there isn't?"
"There might not be one now," the first woman said again, with doubt. "But in a hundred years? In a thousand?"
Are you f.cking kidding me?!
What stasis?! What a thousand years?!
Here I am! Alive! Healthy! Something's wrong with my eyes and speech, but otherwise... I need to run away from you before you heal me to death! But... What's wrong with my body?! Why can't I feel anything below my neck?! What inhuman experiments are they conducting on my brain here?!
Something beeped with a sound that made me want to smash it with a bat. I'll bet it's some device from the "Konovalov Brothers" firm.
"What's happening?" the second woman became worried.
"Increased brain activity!" the first replied. "Neuron throughput has increased. Nerve endings are transmitting signals from the brain to the limbs! Fingers twitched!"
Aha! I have fingers! That means I have arms, legs, a torso, and the most cherished thing for a man – a stomach!
Know our people, Russians don't give up!
"Why is this happening?"
"I don't know," the first woman said in panic. "I... I think it might be seizures, but the brain readings are confident, not random..."
I'll show you seizures! Where's your throat, let me squeeze it, neurosurgeon assigned by the rural FAP of the Zhopomiriya province! I'll teach you the Hippocratic Oath!
I don't know how, but I managed to open my eyes.
The sensation of my own body began to return, and my ears were constantly brushed by some kind of jumbled muttering or asthmatic breathing...
"He's fully conscious!" the second woman declared triumphantly. "See, he's trying to sit up..."
Well, purely theoretically, after I rid this Universe of one quack doctor, I might sit for a decade or two... Ah, they're talking about my physical efforts! Actually, I'm trying to roll onto my side because I feel like I'm lying on my back...
"Mikhail," a faintly familiar scent hit my nostrils, and a perfectly clear human figure appeared before my eyes. "Everything is fine..."
Is the second woman an idiot? Or does she think I am? They want to throw me in the fridge like a vegetable! This is not fine at all! No, if I were a sweet pepper or a cucumber, then yes, the fridge would be the right place... But...
"Please, calm down," the first one spoke with notes of hysteria. "The brain shouldn't be overloaded so much and so quickly! Seventy percent activity! This is blocking his speech centers!"
"Seventy percent brain activity?" the second one seemed shocked. And, a little, me too. It seems a person has about ten percent active, right? "Younger races have no more than forty, rarely fifty... But he's a Lantian! This is normal for him!"
"No, it's not normal!" the first one squeaked. "Lantians had sixty percent active, rarely sixty-five percent of their brain – that was their highest performance! I read about it in the database! This activity is dangerous... Seventy-three! It's increasing..."
For God's sake, let me go, you she-devils! I'm not going into the freezer! Just let me see who you are, I'll remember, I'll kill you!
As if by magic, the blur before my eyes finally cleared, revealing to me... Trebal, sitting before me.
Yes, not in her usual form-fitting uniform, where the regulations forbid it, but in a gray, Ermen, with elements of polymer protection... But it was her.
And I don't remember any moment when she smiled or was happy. But here...
"Mikhail!" she exclaimed, as if she understood that I recognized her. "You must calm down. We are on Atlantis. You were injured during the last operation, but the worst is over now. Your brain isn't working as it should. You can't overexert it, or you'll fall into a coma again and..."
Suddenly, I felt as indifferent as I felt cold in my left hand. Turning my head, I saw some pretty girl in a white Ermen uniform. They should wear such uniforms, shouldn't they... but where did medics come from on Atlantis? And... What was in that pneumatic syringe she was holding? The empty ampoule wasn't there for decoration, was it?
And then darkness fell.
"The readings have returned to normal," I opened my eyes, simultaneously squinting from the bright light shining directly into my pupils. What kind of sadists are these, damn it?
Deciding to cover my eyes with my hand, I felt how heavy my head was... Very heavy...
"You've regained consciousness," a voice came from my right. And again, that familiar, barely perceptible scent...
"Trebal," I said.
I thought it would be some kind of wheezing again, but no! Perfectly articulate, even loud. The latter was quite unnecessary – my head was splitting.
"It's me," the senior assistant of the "Aurora" sat down next to the cot and smiled. "You'll have headaches for some time – your brain needs time to recover from the increased activity you caused five hours ago. We thought your mind would boil in its own cerebrospinal fluid..."
Damn it... And I thought it was just a typical pre-death "trip," the kind from comatose dreams.
It seems this actually happened...
"I almost died..."
"We noticed," she informed me. "For a week, you were in a state where even the healing emitter couldn't guarantee your survival. We thought it wouldn't help either – the damage to your brain and central nervous system was so extensive..."
Healing... Wait, damn it, are they talking about that device that restores damaged bodies?! You can't turn it on for more than five minutes! Chaiya warned that it would fry brains! That it's only for higher Lantians and...
And what am I physiologically? A Lantian. It's logical that they used it. But I doubt they consulted Chaiya.
So, where is Sar herself? Something about this whole situation around my humble person doesn't sit well with me.
"How do you feel?" Trebal asked.
"You probably don't know what a hangover after a student binge is like," I admitted, realizing I couldn't find the right words.
"It sounds dangerous... Just like you almost killed yourself! You performed almost five hundred adjustments!"
"There was an error in Ihaar's calculations," I remembered for some reason. "The ship would have slowed down, but in an unstable orbit. The onboard computer calculated that in a couple of days, the 'Hippaphoralkus' would have crashed into the atmosphere. After the hundredth adjustment, I had to correct its algorithm and calculations..."
"In a couple of days, we would have repaired the maneuvering thrusters," Trebal stated reproachfully. "At least a few. Or done it another way... But you stayed in contact with the ship's mental interface for too long. It almost killed you!"
"Most likely," I agreed. "But I discovered a great truth."
"What?" Trebal asked, surprised.
"I figured out what to call a person who knows all the intricacies of the legendary fan 'Vdaizon'," I said, looking at the girl and seeing a slight panic on her face. It seemed she didn't understand the importance of this discovery.
"And... What is it?" she asked cautiously.
"Ibuprofen."
Trebal blinked a couple of times, then nodded with a completely serious face.
"Okay, I'll ask them to record it in the database," she muttered.
"It was a joke," I explained. "My head just hurts, so I remembered the name of pills from my homeland. They help a lot in such situations..."
"Ibuprofen is medicine?"
"Sometimes it's the only thing between a person and suicide," I confided.
"What a... versatile medicine," Trebal muttered, clearly confused. "It understands fans, it's a humor object, it helps with headaches, and it helps with suicide..."
Um... I think I broke another Ancient.
My thoughts were obviously reflected on my face, because the Ancient's thoughtful expression changed. As did her caring attitude.
She nudged me in the shoulder, smiling at my grimace.
"Why didn't the stroke happen in the part of the brain responsible for this kind of joke?" she asked as if I knew the answer. "You need to get back on your feet as soon as possible because Selise is running herself ragged trying to find ways to cure you!"
And now it was my turn to be stunned.
"Have you all lost your minds?" I asked quietly, glancing at the pretty girl in the white uniform who had entered the ward. "She was only ten!"
"Actually, twelve, almost thirteen," the pretty object of all fetishes for doctors smiled at me. I don't remember her among those I saw on the "Aurora." Although, I only glimpsed about a hundred people there, and there were three hundred of them! "However, you wouldn't say so now," she smiled shyly, shifting from foot to foot. "But Kirik still forbids me to go on dates..."
"Stop it," Trebal said, dousing her with a bucket of cold water, returning to her bitch role. "Restraint! We talked about this!"
"Yes, sorry," the girl... young lady stammered. "There are so many things I want to talk about sometimes, I can't keep my mouth shut. Jinto will be surprised when he sees me... Mikhail, what's wrong with you?"
Now I know what they mean by the expression: "his face stretched in surprise." It really stretches, damn it!
I ran my gaze over her light brown hair with dark strands, curled into wide wavy locks, like Trebal's. I paid attention to her slightly freckled face, thin eyebrows, dark green eyes, and the formed figure of a young woman of about twenty...
Although her facial features had changed, she had grown taller, and her chest protruded from the jacket, but... It's her, damn it! Her!
"May I only eat broccoli! Selise?!"
Selise has grown a bit.
The girl smiled charmingly and waved at me:
"Hello," she said. "And I think I saved your life... Trebal!" Horror appeared on her face. "Your eyes! His eyes are rolling back!"
The light dimmed again.
The Atlantis dining hall was quite deserted. Which is strange, of course, considering it was noon... But, as it turned out, everyone has their own business. And lunch... Why is it needed when there are those wonderful and deliciously healthy food bars? You know, the ones that are somewhere between plasticine and shit. Apparently, this is a Lantian high-calorie delicacy.
The green porridge in front of me created an impression...
"Are you sure no one ate this before me?" I asked Trebal, scooping a little of the substance with a spoon and carefully turning it over. The mass, resembling a gelatinous swamp, returned to the plate. And immediately regained its uniform consistency. Is this even legal?!
"This porridge contains your complete set of vitamins and minerals prescribed by Selise," Trebal reminded me. "So, don't act like a child, just eat it."
I looked at the senior assistant of the "Aurora," hoping that my face reflected the full spectrum of emotions.
"Do you hear yourself?" I clarified. "You want to feed me porridge made of algae prescribed by a ten-year-old!"
"First, it's not algae, but plankton," Trebal corrected me. "Second, Selise has undergone the initiation procedure. And her biological age no longer matters. Third – she's thirteen."
"In my homeland, they call such people 'accelerates'," I explained. "And she wouldn't even get a passport, despite her appearance!"
"I think in your homeland, they would fight over her," Trebal retorted. "After initiation, she not only became an improved version of herself but also gained basic knowledge of Ancient medicine..."
The desire to taste this slop completely disappeared.
"The only thing she would achieve on our planet is that all her boyfriends would go away for eight years to places where the sun shines a little dimmer. Or the very fact of her existence would cause pedophiles and gerontophiles to clash with knives."
"Why would these two groups of people fight with cold weapons over Selise?" Trebal didn't understand.
"They're not people, just humanoids," I clarified. "Biomass that hasn't found its reactor yet. But that's not the point! Damn it, Trebal! The girl is thirteen years old! And she looks twenty!"
"I don't understand what surprises you so much..."
"We were gone for two weeks! Fourteen days! In that time, she aged seven years!"
"Technically – twelve... Her biological age is twenty-five, she has reached the biological peak of her organism..."
"She lost part of her life!"
Trebal closed her eyes, inhaled and exhaled, then looked at me again:
"Mikhail, this is a simple initiation for a representative of a younger race. There's nothing dangerous about it. I and the crew of the 'Aurora,' as well as tens, hundreds of thousands of other people, have undergone this. A simple change in human biochemistry to accelerate growth to the set parameters..."
"A simple change?" I repeated. "Go and explain to a child who thought Chaiya was just teaching her sciences that she might have lived a quarter of her life in two weeks!"
Trebal deflated.
"It was underhanded of her to hide her true intentions, of course," the officer admitted. "But it's
A thirteen-year-old girl looks like a young Miss World, and she's also lamenting that she couldn't set up a closed-loop pharmaceutical laboratory… God, where is this world heading, huh? Clearly, into the abyss, but… Maybe the sooner the better, huh?
"How are you feeling?" I asked.
The girl… The girl crunched thoughtfully on something that looked like leek, clearly pondering my words.
"Strange," she replied at the moment my patience was already wearing thin. "Not long ago, I wanted to play with dolls and wrap myself in Kirik's jacket, waiting for you to come back…"
"And now?" I clarified.
"And now I'm thinking about how good it is that I figured out the medical equipment of Atlantis," she smiled. "Imagine, one of the technicians broke his arm while fixing the wiring. I regrew it in half an hour," she raised her eyebrows. "Half an hour."
"Understood," I glanced from under my brow at Trebal.
"Yes," she replied. "It usually takes forty-five minutes."
No, she didn't understand.
"Seliza, will you leave us?" I addressed the girl… the child. "Officer Trebal and I need to have a private chat."
"Yes, of course," Kirik's ward smiled and fluttered away. "I'll have a snack in the infirmary. I'll also check on the recovery of two team members who were thawed from stasis."
After she left, Trebal explained:
"While you were in a coma for two days, Alvar managed to find common ground with the wraith and delivered a group of Jenai from Ermen to him. They managed to bring two more team members back to life."
"And how many did he devour this time?"
"A dozen."
"And only two did he resurrect?"
"It took him a lot of strength to restore his broken limbs and ribs," Trebal explained. "He… wasn't very cooperative with Alvar. And I considered it foolish to keep prisoners who attacked our mine."
"More foolish than trusting a thirteen-year-old to treat people?"
"Mikhail, I've already explained…"
"Damn it, Trebal!" I exploded. "She's just a child! She should be playing with dolls, walking with boys under the moon, worrying about pimples and other terrible teenage things, not all of this!"
"And what do you suggest I do?" the senior officer replied emphatically. "Ihaar is busy repairing the battleship, his people are restoring Atlantis, the Athosians are getting us food and digging mines, mining flint, and doing other grunt work! People get injured, get sick… And here we have a fully qualified medic who knows her job better than any of us, if she decides to delve into this science!"
"She's a child!"
"She *is*," Trebal emphasized with her voice, not hiding her irritation, "no longer a child. And she became that way thanks to your beloved Sar! I don't know what your issue with children is, but if you want to take it out on someone, look for your beloved instead! I tried, but she's not on Proculus! And I'm not going to waste Atlantis's limited resources searching for a mad scientist for whom even death wouldn't be enough to answer for what she did in the past!"
Jumping up, the officer knocked over the chair she was sitting on.
"Trebal," I caught the girl by the hand. "I'm not accusing you, but… I agree that our resources are finite, however… Using children…"
"Don't lecture me," she pulled her limb out of my grasp. "Although, I don't understand why you're making such a tragedy out of this, if the project you proposed is not much different from what she did with Seliza. You should examine yourself, telling some that you're ready to fight by any means, and others spouting some kind of morality. Yes, by the way," the girl put her hand in her pocket and placed a small crystal on the table. "As a parting gift, Sar left you some recommendations regarding the 'Spartan' project you came up with. I think it's important."
Without another word, Trebal left the dining room.
And I… I don't even know what can overcome the "aftertaste" of such a conversation. We need time to talk about everything without emotions.
Taking the crystal, I twirled it between my fingers. I need to be smarter when planning such things. Even theoretically.
My deductions are leading to conflict with my assistants for the second time. This isn't the right universe, not the right one… Although, double standards are the least of evils.
"It turned out awkwardly," I said, hiding the crystal.
After that, I began to consume plankton. But even its disgusting taste couldn't compare to what was happening in my soul.
As it turned out, even bitchy Ancients are not much different from earthly women.
"Control point," I activated the radio. "I'll need a 'jumper'."
"Understood, Mikhail," came the terse reply from someone among the Ancients. "By what time should it be prepared?"
"And how long does it take to drown out self-loathing with plankton?" I asked the invisible representative of a more developed branch of humanity.
The silence seemed deafening. Well, at least even the Ancients don't know the answer to that question…
"Forty-seven seconds," was the reply. "Your ship will be ready in a minute, Mikhail."
They're annoying…