By the time the first officer approached Styx, the commander had already tossed aside the desiccated corpse of his meal.
The skeleton, wrapped in flabby skin, collapsed to the floor, dispersing some of the mist that carpeted it. The first officer calmly stepped over the human remains and stopped, waiting for his sated commander to turn his attention to him.
The boy in the chair had been invited aboard by the Wraith to be fed. But he did not know that the main course at lunch was himself.
"Speak," Styx ordered.
"I have begun work on the data the scouts retrieved from the dialing device on that planet," the first officer reported.
"When will you be able to give me the addresses of the planets they could have gone to?" the hive commander asked.
"The dialing device retained the last fifty addresses dialed," the subordinate reminded him. "Each address has seven symbols..."
"Six, if you remove the point-of-origin symbol," Styx said irritably. "From the six remaining symbols, you can make seven hundred and twenty variants of an address."
"And there are fifty such addresses, Commander," the first officer reminded him. "Which means we already have three thousand six hundred variants."
"Discard the addresses that lead nowhere or cannot be dialed," Styx snarled. "Mark out separately those that lead to other Wraith planets. Wherever they went, that world is free of our kind. There shouldn't be many such planets."
"Commander, I merely wish to say that such work will take considerable time," the first officer backpedaled.
"In that case, why are you wasting it standing in front of me making excuses?" Styx asked, noting the arrival of a pair of Wraith soldiers. Grabbing the shriveled human, they dragged the remains away.
"I will begin at once," the first officer assured him, taking a step back toward the exit.
"Stop," Styx said. "Did you figure out that bomb the humans tried to detonate aboard my ship?"
"It poses no danger," the subordinate assured him.
"I know that part myself," Styx bared his teeth. "I want to know who built the second half of the device."
He had already wiped the makers of the triggering mechanism from the face of the galaxy. Only one Runner remained...
"We are working on that question, Commander," the first officer said as he withdrew.
Styx bared his teeth again as he saw a new human brought into his chamber by soldiers. A cowardly, pitiful piece of meat...
"Come here," Styx ordered, increasing the pressure on the feeble mind.
The man had no strength to walk to the Wraith on his own. Instead, the soldiers dragged him to the throne occupied by their commander and threw him at his feet.
"It seems your people shake hands when they meet," pressing down on the scraps of the man's mind, the Wraith—who had lived just short of eleven thousand years—completely obliterated the Ancient's mind and turned him into a pliant puppet. "Give me your hand, human..."
The broken toy, in which there was not even a hint left of the Ancients' former greatness, obediently extended his right hand.
And Styx, following an old Wraith joke, responded to the handshake by clamping his right hand around the victim's. The feeding organ plunged into the man's palm, injecting the enzyme...
Within seconds he was hissing in pleasure, drawing the last vestiges of life from the rapidly aging human.
* * *
Like any city that respected itself, Atlantis had a prison. Well of course—why not build one in the capital of a race that had reached enlightenment? Dumb question, obviously.
But Teyla still asked it.
"You see," I explained to the girl without taking my eyes off the spectacle of pained cries and the sound of tenderized meat that filled the air, "on the path to Ascension, to turning into pure energy, there are many temptations. Readily available narcotics, women for hire, forbidden knowledge, moonshine, illegal experiments, sodomy... all that kept the Ancients from enlightenment. So the wildest ones were shoved into cells like these."
Cells... truthfully, it was an entire section of the city the size of a football field. Inside there were several—I lost count after ten—cells with half-meter-thick walls. In the middle of each such bunker stood a sizable cage with horizontal bars and a powerful force field stretched along the sides. The field would not let matter through and could only be deactivated (from the opening side) when the cell was unlocked.
Put a bed, a bench, and a laptop in there and you'd have yourself a motel room. Except the build quality was lacking. As if it had been thrown together in a rush.
"Are you thinking the same thing I am?" Teyla asked.
"If you're also bothered by the question of what idiot came up with calling a prison on a city-ship of a spacefaring civilization a 'brig,' after the punishment cell on wooden sailing ships, then yes," I replied. "In that case, we're on the same page."
The Atlantis brig.
"No, such thoughts don't bother me," Teyla said.
"They should," I replied, watching through the closed cell door. Inside, as universal balance requires, there were two of them. And they'd been in there for the better part of an hour.
"Mikhail," the girl frowned at me. "On Athos it is not our way to treat prisoners like this."
"It's great that we're not on Athos, isn't it," I gave her a meaningful look. "Anyway," my hand pointed on its own at the people inside the cell, "you're free to go in there. And tell them both you disapprove of beating prisoners. Even if they tore out nails, broke three ribs, the radius and ulna, a cheekbone, beat up and nearly disfigured someone we both know. I'm sure they'll all be delighted at your mercy toward the Genii."
"You forgot about yourself," she said modestly. "Looks like you'd be better..."
"Oh, if not for the painkillers, I wouldn't be standing here," I assured the Athosian.
"Forgive me," she said, lowering her gaze. "I just... I can't comprehend it. I knew Tyrus and his daughter Sora as farmers. I knew all the Genii as peaceful farmers, friendly and welcoming. They drove a hard bargain sometimes, but they were always honest..."
"Remind me, how many times did they tell you about their bunker under the fields?" I asked.
"But they had no reason to trust me," Emmagan countered. "If the Athosians were as advanced as they are, perhaps..."
"Do I need to remind you about Chaya?" I asked. "Just in case, let me note that it's been half a day, and even with the regenerative radiation of Ancient medical gear, her second eye is only just starting to open. There's your example of the Genii's way of dealing with someone from a 'developed' race."
"Perhaps it would be better to build a relationship with them without mutilating Tyrus," Teyla said, looking into the cell where Alvar was now finishing off the last toe on the Genii's foot. He had stopped hitting him five minutes earlier when Tyrus stopped moving. But then the wonderful supplies the enemy had so thoughtfully stocked our stores with came into play. Time and again adrenaline brought the Genii back to consciousness. "Perhaps we should have traded him and..."
"The only thing I can do for Tyrus is grant him a quick death," I cut her off. "And believe me, I came close a little while ago, but... what I overheard then... they're not worth your concern. Even if we dropped a couple of super-nukes on their planet, believe me, no innocents would get hurt."
"Misha," I heard from inside the cell. Alvar was drenched in sweat and droplets of someone else's blood from head to toe. The soldier was breathing hard, exhausted. As for Tyrus... what was left of him lay in a puddle of blood on the cell floor. With a faint hiss and flickering, the force field on the door deactivated, and Jensen stepped out.
"I shot him up with a little cocktail," the former Runner said, tossing the interrogation kit bag a short way from the cell. "He'll last a day or so more. If you still need him..."
"Don't worry, I'll take care of him," I said. "Find out what you wanted?"
"I did," the soldier's face twisted with disgust. "Even what I didn't want to."
"Clean yourself up and then come to the conference room," I suggested. "We should go over..."
"There's nothing to discuss," the Ermen man snapped. "Give me a weapon, a crate of ammo, and drop me on their planet. I'll avenge my people..."
From his face, it was clear the former soldier wasn't joking. Not at all. Not even a little bit.
He really meant to go to the Genii alone and kill as many of them as he could. Judging by what I'd seen on Sudaria, he might actually manage a lot. And that Terminator in the guise of Vladimir Mashkov was needed here, not with a bullet in his head amid a couple thousand dead Genii.
"And you won't be doing it alone," I assured him. "At the very least, I'll be right beside you. But for now we need to work out a strategy and see exactly how bad things are."
"It's very bad, Misha," Alvar wiped the drying blood from his face in anger, only turning his features into the mask of a blood god. "They have atomic weapons. And they intend to use them on the Wraith. Even the fact that they soiled themselves in the test run isn't stopping them. Soon the whole galaxy will be crawling with Wraith! If it isn't already..."
Teyla took Alvar's hand and made him look at her.
"You need to calm down," she said, looking him in the eyes. "A hot head is a bad counselor."
If the Ermen man wanted to say something back, he held it in. He took one last look at the cell where Tyrus had begun to stir, then strode out of the room.
"I'll talk to him," Teyla said of her plans.
"Better not," I objected, moving to the cell door and closing it. "He needs some time alone with his thoughts. For now, let's unload the Jumpers; I have a feeling we'll need them soon."
The electromagnetic locks clanked into place and the force field flared between the flat bars. The cell once again became an insurmountable obstacle to anyone who didn't know the shutdown code.
"You needn't hurry on my account," Sora's father croaked, rolling onto his side and looking at me with bloodshot eyes. "The Genii's wrath will find you no matter what you do."
"Yeah, but you're going to rot here," I cooled his enthusiasm.
"I'm already practically a dead man," he laughed nervously, then clutched his broken ribs. "I told you what I know. I'm no use to you anymore."
"You're wrong," I assured the Genii. "If you were a bit more educated, you'd know that a xenomorph isn't just strong chitin and wonderful acid, but also a fun double jaw."
"I don't understand," the Genii said after a few seconds of thought.
"That's your people's problem in a nutshell," I enlightened him. "Your race's name comes from 'genius.' But may the Wraith be the only ones who ever shake your hand—you are anything but geniuses."
Muttering a curse, the man groaned and rolled over onto his other side.
* * *
"We should have set up the depots somewhere more convenient," I said, collapsing into a chair in the conference room.
Six hours of hauling every possible kind of cargo from the Jumper bay to the central city block where we now had an arsenal, a medical supply depot, ammo, provisions, and gear storage. Thank goodness for the transporters—if we'd had to work the stairs and corridors for all of this, it would have been total hell.
Teyla, however, didn't look tired. Then again, she'd been hauling everyday goods, not small arms and explosives. It wasn't even my back that hurt the most... my legs were humming like they'd turned into high-voltage power lines. Humming and humming and humming...
"I think," Emmagan said as she pried open what looked suspiciously like a tin can and, not on her first try, deftly speared a syrup-dripping chunk of fruit with her knife, "it was worth a little work for this."
I inhaled deeply through my nose... yes, if the taste matched the smell, I took all my complaints back! Pineapple!
Pink pineapple, but still.
"Lenin said we should share," I remarked, walking over to the girl with a very clear hint.
"Who said we should share?" she asked.
"Girl named Lenin."
"And who did he say that to?" Teyla continued to expand her knowledge of Earth culture, sharing the can.
"The kulaks."
"And they are...?"
"Those who were supposed to share."
"I don't quite understand..."
"Neither did half of my people, don't worry about it," I advised, fishing out a juicy slice. And yes, I'd been right—for such a reward, it had been worth the effort.
There was something else Alvar had neglected to mention when he told us about the wonder-knives of his people. Inside there was a folding camp spoon-fork. To choose the right utensil, all you had to do was flip the handle. Not exactly what we had on Earth, but even with three tines, a fork is a fork. And a spoon, even a tiny one, is still a spoon. There were no cutlery sets on Atlantis. And eating with the wooden ones the Athosians had given us... after a couple of splinters in the tongue, your appetite pretty much vanished.
With a soft hiss the doors slid open and Alvar walked quickly into the room. One look was enough to see the man had pulled himself together. And put himself in order.
Black camouflage pants, light T-shirt, a holster with a pistol strapped to his thigh. And a look of universal exhaustion on his face.
But the next person in after him...
"Aren't you supposed to still be in the infirmary?" I left the can and its contents to Teyla and hurried over to Chaya. Supporting the girl, I helped her sit down in a chair near the entrance.
"There's nothing critical to my health," the Proculus woman said. At least her voice was cheerful; that was something. "They tortured me, they weren't trying to kill me..."
"From the look of you, it was pretty much a coin toss either way," Alvar said, giving her a quick glance.
"I'll take that as a compliment," she promised, folding her bruised hands... my eyes caught on the barely regrown nail plates. Teyla flinched. I pretended I urgently needed to sit back where I'd been, while Jensen gave the girl a sympathetic look.
Chaya pursed her lips and placed one hand over the other, hiding the signs of torture from view.
"We need to go back to Ermen," she said.
"You're joking, right?" I gaped. "They almost killed us there."
"But they didn't," she countered. "We didn't complete our mission as planned. We need to go back."
"I don't think it's a good idea," Teyla took my side.
"I agree with Chaya," Alvar said unexpectedly. "We need to return. In light of what I learned..."
He broke off, darting a quick glance at Chaya. The girl, also dressed in Ermen uniform, looked just like the dark-blue camouflage. Normally bruises would not have begun to bloom like that after just a day. I figured it was the med-tech and Proculus physiology—she was healing far faster than a normal human.
Not that I could talk—my own bruises had already stopped hurting.
"Don't get me wrong," I said. "We need everything we can get. But the Genii..."
"The Genii set my race up for the Wraith," Jensen cut me off. "And now they're calmly picking through its legacy. I don't want them getting more than they already have."
"Did you interrogate the prisoners?" Chaya asked quietly. Teyla couldn't stand her gaze and looked away.
"Yes," Jensen said. "Tyrus doesn't know much, but even what he did say is enough to understand the Genii are no friends of ours."
"Tell us," I asked.
"A few months before the attack, a group of refugees arrived on our world," he began. "Among them were those two, Tyrus and Sora. I didn't see them personally, but I heard about the survivors. I don't know how, but they managed to win the trust of a high-ranking officer. Somehow they got hold of our nuclear project data. Reactors, bombs, missiles, engines... a lot of it was still fairly experimental, but our reactors had been running for about forty years. Tyrus claims they bribed some of our soldiers and were allowed to take several blueprints and prototypes stored in the base depot. The Genii used them, as well as valuable ore from our planet, to improve their own designs."
"What material are we talking about?" I asked, interested.
"I don't know its name. I heard the Ancients used it to build the Stargates," Jensen shrugged.
Chaya and I exchanged glances.
Alvar was talking about naquadah. In the events I knew, it had been mined on many worlds in the Milky Way. In Pegasus I'd heard no mention of it. But logically, it must be here somewhere if there was a gate network in Pegasus—and that material was key to them.
From what I remembered, naquadah was super-heavy and super-dense. In the Milky Way it was used to create power sources and weapons. As armament, it greatly amplified energy yields, making it an extremely powerful explosive when combined with conventional explosives. The people of Earth had used naquadah-enhanced missiles to destroy enemy ships.
The physics of this material were quite entertaining—apparently the mineral also had a liquid form and was used as such in certain weapons in the Milky Way.
Wars for naquadah-mine worlds there could rage for generations, killing millions on both sides.
But beyond the gates, there was another peaceful use. Earth's people, having learned the tech from other aliens, had built super-powerful reactors giving colossal energy output. In the known story, such reactors powered Atlantis after it was reactivated when the Earth expedition arrived.
"If there are naquadah mines on the planet, we absolutely must find them," Chaya stressed the word. "Once we have naquadah, I can build several portable reactors. We'll be able to use them as alternative power sources for different parts of the city."
"And the weapons satellite," I reminded her.
"First and foremost," she agreed.
"And you can also make bombs from naquadah," I sighed. "And I suspect the Genii now know that."
"Perhaps they'll use the material for good," Chaya suggested. "If we have energy problems, then so do they..."
Jensen smiled crookedly.
"Don't you want to hear the rest of the story?" he asked. "You know, the one where the Genii got my people killed."
"Sorry," Teyla raised her hands in a conciliatory gesture.
"If Tyrus wasn't lying, then with help from our prototypes, the Genii were able to finish and boost the yield of their bomb," Alvar said. "They sent a squad to a hive ship and tried to blow it up. But the hive survived. After that, their spies slipped off our world very quickly. Just a couple of days or so before the attack on Ermen. And according to Tyrus, it was that same hive that attacked us."
"That can't be a coincidence," Emmagan said.
"It isn't," I replied, pleased to cash in my foreknowledge. "Among the Genii there was something like a scientist. Before he died, he told me that many years ago they shot down a Wraith dart, found a data storage device onboard, and on it—data about the location of at least one hive ship. They wanted to infiltrate it and use the device to get the coordinates of all the Wraith ships in the galaxy."
"To blow them up afterward?" Alvar clarified.
"Exactly. Suicide-bomber tactics."
"In that case, they must have a very large population," Chaya remarked. "In our time the Wraith had tens of thousands of ships—from transports to hives."
"In any case, we have to do something about them," Jensen stated. "I won't forgive myself for knowing who destroyed my race and doing nothing."
"But we don't know why the Wraith attacked you," Teyla reminded him. "The Genii might not be at fault."
"Seriously?" Jensen darkened. "They win our trust, steal our secrets, build a bomb from them—the one we ourselves refused to build—and send it at the Wraith. Then, all of a sudden, the Wraith attack Ermen? Not the Genii homeworld, mine."
"There are gaps in your reasoning," Emmagan tried to calm him. "We must check everything."
"Things are plenty clear to me," Jensen shot back. "I don't know how they did it, but the Genii brought the Wraith down on us. Maybe they decided to take revenge for the past."
"Tyrus told me Ermen had once been part of the same Confederation as the Genii. Then you were attacked and they thought for a long time no one had survived. I suspect they checked on this, but found nothing and left."
"I don't know much of history, but I do know a few good ways to crush them," Jensen said. "We need to set up an ambush on the planet. If one group disappeared and hasn't reported back for a day, they'll send more. And more, and more. We have about a hundred Athosians who can handle firearms. We can..."
"I will not draw my people into a war with the Genii!" Teyla raised her voice. "We have already suffered from the Wraith; we don't need to tear each other apart as well! Yes, I'll tell my people to reduce contact with the Genii to a minimum, but going to war with them!?"
"Why not?" Jensen asked, pointing to Chaya. "Show me the mine and I'll dig up enough naquadah to wipe out the Genii homeworld. Or are we just going to sit here and wait while they strip my planet and turn our knowledge into tools for blowing up first the Wraith and then other people? I'm sure the Genii could have built their own versions of our prototypes, but they chose to make sure our parts were in their bomb. That's probably how the Wraith found us."
"Then why not attack the Genii?" Teyla asked.
"They're very good at hiding," I reminded her. "Underground city and all that, remember?"
"I can block the Ermen gate," Chaya said unexpectedly for all of us.
"Excuse me?" I asked, looking at the Proculus woman. "Block it?"
"We do the same thing with Atlantis's gate when we leave," the Ancient reminded us. "We can block the Ermen gate from being dialed by anyone except us. I'll set up a reroute to other worlds so no one can go there without our knowledge. The reconfigured system will store the incoming object's energy in a buffer and redirect it to random coordinates in the galaxy."
"No need for random," I said suddenly, half to myself. "We need prisoners to interrogate, don't we? We have to find out exactly what the Genii got from Ermen and how they're using it."
"I doubt ordinary soldiers know about that," Teyla said. "But commanders like Tyrus might..."
"In that case," I summed up, "we need to find a planet to which we can send our unfriendly friends. Chaya," the girl looked at me with thinly veiled suspicion. "Your first priority is to get well. No objections. We all care too much about you to demand you work yourself to exhaustion."
"But I'm perfectly fine," the dark-skinned girl said in sincere surprise, covered in purple-blue bruises from head to toe. Honestly, with her half-open, swollen eye she could give anyone the chills. It looked like any second now she'd demand someone's motorcycle and clothes...
She looked around, seeking support from Teyla and Alvar. But neither of them was eager to endorse her separatist plan of working in that condition.
"Don't treat me like I'm wounded!" the Proculus woman protested. "I can work and rest! Especially since I need to go there and check the condition of the servers and..."
"We'll handle that," Alvar said. "I'm sure Teyla's people won't mind helping us haul out everything we need."
"And if the data on the other servers are as damaged as on the main one, you won't be able to do much there on-site anyway," I backed him up.
"This is a conspiracy!" the girl huffed.
"Say it's treason too, then whip a lightsaber out of your sleeve and start chopping down Jedi Masters," I smiled. As expected, the joke flew right over their heads. "Anyway, the majority rules: you're going to rest and heal. The sooner that happens, the sooner you can get back to work. In the meantime, we'll deliver whatever you want. Alvar, you know where to find the biggest tech junkyard, right?"