There is something soul-gripping about being in the middle of ancient ruins, long polished by wind and time, overgrown with grass and bushes, thousands of light-years away from the place you call home. To sit with your back against ancient stones, roughly hewn due to their density, exposing your face to a light, cool breeze.
To look at the starry sky and see not a single familiar constellation. The droplets of light, appearing so microscopic, insignificant, but in reality being enormous thermonuclear reactors, created by the laws of the universe, are mesmerizing.
Peaceful… And it seems, let the whole world wait.
A tranquility that is not even found on Atlantis. Now, when there is no need to run, shoot, jump, or think about how to fix this or that technical abomination that has formed over ten thousand years of disuse of Ancient technology, I think I have begun to understand.
No, not the plans of the Ancients, nor even the secrets of the universe.
But how oppressive the atmosphere in the Ancestors' city is.
Clean, filtered air cannot compare to the scent of herbs on the surface. No lighting fixture, however perfect, can replace natural light.
A lamp on the ceiling, in the wall, or even above the door will not replace the warmth of a star. And no concept of protection can overcome the growing discomfort of feeling like you are in a giant tin can.
Now I understand why the teams working outside of Atlantis change so often. Why so many are eager to repair ships and outposts on Taranis. Why so few are willing to go to the drilling platform or the Wraith ship.
Why the topic of continuing to accumulate sand reserves from Lantea-2 is even being raised again, although we have a large amount of scrap metal that can be melted down to obtain the necessary parts.
The psyche of humans, even those as advanced as the Ancients, also has its limits. People spent ten thousand years in a tin can called "Aurora," packed into even smaller tin cans of stasis pods.
I pulled them out of those cans and gave them a bigger can.
The excitement of returning to life for a while dulled their sense of confined space, after which depression slowly but surely began to return.
And they are silent. They are not used to complaining, because they were usually not sympathized with in response, and their desires were neglected. Therefore, the demand for antidepressants and sedatives is increasing.
People solve the problem as best they can. Because the leader, that is, I, said: "We will be underwater because it is safe." They are used to obeying. But habits and customs have their expiration date.
It's ironic that I discovered that Atlantis was turning into a boiling cauldron of passions only when I was on another planet.
Yes… Better late than never.
And yet… It's so good here. And my soul feels heavy and bad. Is it a midlife crisis, or am I just not noticing that the submerged Atlantis is also oppressing me?
"A thrilling moment, a sweet moment," I sang in a barely audible whisper, looking at the two moons of this world. "A childhood dream has come true…"
Beside me, a body stirred, clad in the familiar leather "outfit" of the Nomads. Even the polymer body armor with a load-bearing vest, filled with ammunition, suits her.
"You wanted to be on a night ambush since childhood?" Larrin asked me just as quietly, moving closer. "What down-to-earth dreams you have, however."
Ah, the village…
"That it's just you and me in the world," I continued, recalling "Lovett's Confession" from the rock opera.
"Misha, are you okay?" Larrin asked in a puzzled voice. "There are ten other people here besides us."
"Just you, and me, and the darkness," I continued, admiring the stars.
"Is everything alright?" Tayla appeared from the other side. "I heard some noise."
"Misha is raving," Larrin pointed at me.
"I want to cry and sing," I didn't stop, looking at the dark crowns of the surrounding trees.
"It's the tension from the long wait," Tayla said. "It happens when you wait for a long time, and nothing happens. Several Athosians were like that after the last gathering, when we were hiding and didn't know if the Wraiths had left…"
"And to be with you, in the darkness with you…"
"Or it's a brain parasite," Larrin looked at me warily. "We once had a whole ship die from such an infection. We had to destroy it to prevent it from spreading among the others."
"And if death suddenly appears," they are unfeeling sheep, ruining such a song with comments. "Then let its name be Love."
"If death comes to us, its name will be Wraiths," Larrin gritted out, nudging me in the side. "And with your howling, you'll only call them down on us!"
Sighing with the feeling of an offended genius misunderstood by the local peasants, I took out an Ancient scanner. The device was set, just like five minutes ago when I last checked it, to a life signal detector. And now it showed exactly twelve points. In the same places where they should have been according to the plan.
Showing the device's screen to Larrin, then to Tayla, I said:
"Each group has a person with such a device, so guests won't just appear," I explained. "And we know all these twelve signals well. You have the same one."
"Thank you, I've had enough 'communication' with that dreadnought," in the night darkness, only the moonlight of this planet illuminated Larrin's shuddering face. "I don't want any other console to wring me out like a lemon."
"If I had known in advance that you were a coward," I sighed, not finishing the sentence. And it's not about Tayla's disapproving look.
But Larrin's sharp fist, which landed in my side. Looking at how the girl hissed in pain, meeting the resistance of the load-bearing polymer vest of Ermenian production, I even felt sorry for her.
Perhaps it was a foolish idea to contribute to her acquiring the Ancient gene. But what's done is done. And we need loyal people with the gene.
Loyalty here, of course, is not proven in Larrin's case. But after we received DNA samples from her people and Selise was able to find several suitable candidates among them, then… Everything is working out very well here.
And the stronger my desire to send Larrin to "Ares." Trebal was frankly pitiful. The dreadnought seems to be a racist and looks at a half-breed like dirt under its fingernails.
Larrin, however… According to Trebal, she has an even worse time with mental contact with the ship. But, surely, one can choose not to do it? Mental connection with ancient devices is a conscious choice. At least with most of the technologies we know.
They react to a mental impulse, a desire. Moreover, the "thinner the blood" and the "cooler" the technology, the louder you have to "shout." I can control Ancient technology almost without realizing or formulating mental commands. Trebal, Chaya, Ihaar have even revealed the secret to me: to turn on, for example, that "jumper," they need to form a clear mental instruction. But for a scanner, for example, no. For a control panel - it depends. But the doors open by themselves, sensing the gene carrier.
In general, with the Ancient gene, in my opinion, there are more problems than benefits. Although, there is only one benefit – protection against unauthorized access. But… Forgive my Aurebesh, but what kind of protection are we talking about, if the same control consoles, including those for the main city systems, can be turned on quite simply? And they will work until they are turned off. Or until a large amount of time passes without use. Moreover, it already makes me want to laugh, for each device, the "time to enter hibernation" is different. A scanner, for example, will turn off immediately if it is taken from an Ancient's hands. Although, of course, you can give it a direct command not to do this – and then it will be on for about an hour in anyone's hands. This function was recently discovered. And it's not present on all found devices.
It seemed, and I was confident that my guess was true, that from the very beginning of the war, the Lantians, one way or another, lowered the admission threshold for gene levels. Probably, all this mess with equipment on Atlantis became possible because at the end of the war, almost everyone who managed to escape from the Ancients' planets and outposts gathered there. Both Lantians and representatives of younger races.
According to Selise, the gene that Larrin now has will not be inherited. It is weak, at Selise's level, maybe a little stronger. And in such circumstances, in the next generation, at most in one, it will become latent. Provided, of course, that the father of her child is not an Ancient.
Damn eugenics…
But, purely from a scientific point of view, the Ancient gene is a very potent thing. A genetic achievement, but not evolution.
The gene is passive by nature. It's not like in a computer game, "active ability, press F." Like genes responsible for ear shape, iris color, tooth enamel strength, so is the Ancient gene.
Our little Doctor Twinkling Eyes conducted a small study. Not for us, not for Larrin. For Kirik. Even the child sees how uncomfortable her guardian is.
So, according to her findings, which Chaya partially confirmed, the Ancient gene functions by the body producing a series of proteins and enzymes that interact with the skin, nervous system, and brain, allowing gene carriers to control ancient technologies with a mere thought.
Given its very specific focus on interacting with technologies and the absolute uselessness of its derivatives in ordinary life, this confirms its artificial origin in principle. That is, it's not about younger races, but about the gene itself, its origin among the Lantians.
Based on what I told Selise and the other "direction leaders" about the gene, the girl medic delved into laboratory analyses and models and concluded that the gene, damn it, has a catch.
For starters, Larrin, though she doesn't know it, did not undergo an Ancient genetic procedure. Her gene is not grafted.
Simply because it can only be done to a child and under certain circumstances, or rather, under a certain physiological development. The girl was frankly lucky that her body had at least a few close mutations for the gene to take root. But in the next generation, as with Larrin, it will wither. And, most likely, forever.
This indicates that among the ancestors of modern humans on Pegasus, there are descendants of the Ancients. But over a hundred generations, grafted genes without replenishment by the same genetics of the opposite sex simply degrade.
And the Ancient gene is one of the first to die here. It's fragile, easy to break. Or degrade.
But, if the offspring inherit the gene from both parents, then the grafted gene will strengthen until it becomes an inherited part of the DNA. Or here's a slightly more interesting scenario - if the gene is not initially a mutation, that is, not grafted, but obtained from a parent who has it naturally, then a half-breed has a much greater chance of getting a fairly strong gene and passing it on to future generations.
In other words, a grafted gene is easily erased from DNA, but a natural one, established in DNA over many generations, lasts quite a long time.
I should have seen Trebal's face when I told her that in the events known to me, some Ancients who left Atlantis ten thousand years ago, in the future interbred with humans living on Earth, which is why in the future, in the Earth's "Stargate" program, there were people with the natural Ancient gene.
The lady, who just recently talked about strengthening blood, about marital unions between strong branches of genetics, wanted to shoot herself when I told her about what humans on Earth were like ten thousand years ago.
Hunting, fishing, gathering, the first conscious settlements where stones reinforced the roof, shells and trinkets as decorations. It seems that at the same time, the first composite tools appeared, a bow (a stick with animal sinews stretched on it), a boat (a hollowed-out trunk of a large tree)… Mmm… Even if we assume that the Lantians lived for several years, I doubt they lived in isolation for several thousand years before saying, "Okay, these guys don't eat meat raw anymore, it's time to interbreed."
Honestly, I try not to think about it. It's disgusting.
Yes, I once read that if a child from that time ended up in the current time on Earth, there would be no cardinal problems in him learning everything that modern Earthlings know.
But it was simply necessary to tell the eugenic supporters about this – at least to see their reaction: "What the hell? And these people told us about blood purity and looking for partners only among physiologically, mentally, and genetically developed individuals?"
I even felt sorry for Tayla then, whose authority grew in the eyes of Atlantis's inhabitants. After all, they don't live in caves.
So, no matter how disgusting it was for me to think about how and in what capacity the Ancients passed on their genetic code to future generations, the fact that Earthlings received the Ancient gene, and that the grafted gene degenerated, spoke for itself.
The Ancients' genetic therapy is not just a "graft for development." It is a method of manipulation, control. The question is, if all Dorandans received a miracle graft when admitted to the "younger races," then why did Trebal undergo initiation? Alright, Chaya, her people did not interact with the Ancients until then.
But the Dorandans were already familiar with the Lantians by the time the war began, a younger race, and so on.
I suspect there is one small unpleasant secret in all these eugenic rituals. Either the Lantians did not graft everyone, and then it is logical that the grafted, mixing with the ungrafted, weakened the gene and a new graft was required. Or perhaps the offspring of two grafted people do not inherit their parents' improved genetics so often.
Again, let's take Trebal. Her father is a Lantian, a carrier of the natural gene. The girl is sure that her mother was a gene carrier. Then why was she herself grafted? Why was she "accelerated" for training? She should have been more developed than a simple Dorandan. Couldn't she absorb knowledge without chemistry?
Unfortunately, there is no answer to this question.
And what is available to us in the Atlantis database smells like some censored version of a scientific report for idiots. No, seriously, there are descriptions of three paragraphs, without formulas. Only text in the style of "it works like this and is needed for this."
I don't like all this genetic movement. I don't like that the Lantians, having barely encountered the Salumai who were playing with genetics and augmentation, didn't get along with them and then blocked their gates. I also don't like that the Wraiths arrived afterward. I don't like that, contrary to my expectations, Larrin could swear that the Nomads never broke into the laboratory, they are not interested in cybernetics. On Salumai, they were only interested in metals, technologies, and food supplies in warehouses. The latter were not found, nor was the secret bunker.
Ihaar partially confirms her words – according to him, Nomad scanners are only good for scaring photons. Compared to Lantian scanners (and it was thanks to them that we found that laboratory), Nomads see nothing with their devices.
But, one way or another, Larrin and several people from her people have something interesting. It's called the "recessive Ancient gene."
There are dominant genes, those that work in the body and form our body, health, skin color, hair, eyes, and so on. And there are suppressed, recessive genes. Which simply exist.
And making the recessive Ancient gene dominant, working, like ours, is very difficult. Naturally – practically impossible, at least in the carrier. In the next generation – yes, maybe. We remember the condition.
According to Selise's theory, and Chaya agrees with her, Earthlings did not actually graft the Ancient gene onto each other when they found themselves on Atlantis, cut off from the Milky Way. They used some genetic procedures to activate recessive genes.
She drew her conclusion based on the peculiarities of the dominant and recessive Ancient gene. So, the recessive one is difficult to detect even with Ancient medical technologies. Especially if you don't know where it's hidden entirely. Because this damn thing is scattered throughout the entire DNA chain. If you don't know what it is as a whole, then each part of it looks like genetic garbage. Like an appendix in the body. "Well, if it's there, it must be important, let's figure out why."
"Otherwise, if they really found a way, for example, a special retrovirus, to graft the gene onto people, then they are smarter than me," Selise summarized. And she asked for my permission to conduct this research.
If Ancient genetic therapy only worked on children and only with at least minimal physiological data, then I remembered from the series that the Earth doctor grafted the gene. True… He seemed to have a couple of years before that, and half a life of medical practice, so… In general, that's how I calmed the girl down, saying that she still had everything ahead of her.
The "activation" procedure for Larrin was… non-trivial. Developing a current retrovirus to activate the gene, even for Selise or Chaya, could take months. And the Nomads on Ermen needed our help now. No, it wasn't a complete deception or anything like that…
We honestly told Larrin that we would apply Ancient genetic therapy for children to her. There was a theory that such a charge could awaken her gene and make her potentially stronger.
We activated it.
But it didn't make her stronger.
The good thing is that this therapy should not harm the body if it doesn't work. Kirik and Alvar will confirm.
But I am not going to "activate" anyone else besides Larrin at the moment. Yes, it's tempting to spend time and conduct genetic therapy on all the Nomads on Ermen with the thought: "Well, what if?"
It's just that thanks to Selise, we've become smarter. And we won't waste our limited resources on such foolishness.
Yes, among the Nomads on Ermen, there are people with a dormant gene. There are people who have some genetic markers that are needed for successful gene implantation. Kirik and Alvar, for example, didn't have them at all and, most likely, that's why the therapy didn't work.
But I wasn't going to create a bunch of "Ancients" out of conditionally loyal Nomads. I have enough conditionally loyal Dorandans, who have the gene, but may not join us. Why create problems for myself?
Chaya, who agreed with Larrin's "activation," put forward a hypothesis, based on her upbringing surrounded by Ancient technologies, that the frequency of their use can help work with them more comfortably. According to Selise's feelings, this is exactly how it is.
The gene won't get stronger, of course, but at least using the technologies will develop "familiarity" skills. It's like driving a car – skill comes with experience.
Let's hope that Larrin will also eventually stop flinching from things that turn on only in her hands. But she fears "Ares" like fire. Just like Trebal. Chaya diplomatically preferred not to sacrifice her self-esteem, saying: "I am a scientist, not a ship commander."
In general, the problem is not critical if you don't control the ship mentally. For me, it's easier to do it with the power of thought, because buttons and equipment are difficult for me (hopefully for now). But commanding without getting out of the chair – yes, it's easy.
Larrin, however… In principle, she and the future crew of "Ares" assembled from technicians can control the starship using control panels throughout the ship. But so far, no one, including me, has dared to sit in the command chair. Because, if we believe the schematics (and there is no reason to believe they are deceiving us), the chair on the ship is exactly the same as on Atlantis.
That is, not a "truncated" version, like on the "Hippaphoralkus." And from it, you can control almost all the ship's systems – if you have the right gene strength. I have the right one. For others, it's nothing more than the only means to launch guided missiles, the main firepower of the dreadnought.
However, "Ares" is equipped with pulse cannons of the latest, experimental generation. And its super-reactors are more powerful, giving the weapons, shields, and engines more power. And, consequently, they make it superior to the "Hippaphoralkus" without MNT.
In general, in all this genetic mess, without special knowledge and microscopic examination, one can dig for days and months, making various and wildest guesses.
I preferred not to participate in these scientific disputes anymore, so as not to spawn false guesses. Let Selise conduct her hundred and fifty experiments, build models, discard obviously foolish assumptions that I am already generating against the background of unconscious disgust for the Lantians, and then we'll talk.
For now, we have a simpler and more interesting task.
"Mikhail," Kirik's voice came from the communicator's earpiece, "the gate is activating from the other side."
"Attention," I announced on the general frequency, checking my "Alash" once again. For this mission, we needed the simplest of deadly weapons. "We have guests. Alvar, Ihaar, is everything ready?"
"We can launch the installation at any time," the senior engineer assured. "Let me remind you that we will have only ten, at most fifteen, minutes before we need to turn off the 'jammer.' During this time, we will have no radio communication and no energy weapons will work."
"A bad idea," Larrin shook her head, tucking a "frequency shifter" into her hip holster. Slinging the "Alash" hanging from her belt over her shoulder, she pulled the bolt, bringing the weapon to a ready state. "And the weapon is also bad."
The latter is a collective opinion of the Nomads. They, they say, are more accustomed to "frequency shifters." And the fact that they have only one "pistol" of this type for every hundred people in the colony is "another matter." However, I'm not forcing anyone – if they don't want to have standardized firearms in their armament for self-defense, that's their business.
They, you see, are more accustomed to using more familiar types of firearms in the galaxy: Satedan or Jenai. The latter is called that only by those who know its origin, because for most of the galaxy, they are simply farmers.
But a Satedan… It's practically a rarity.
It is well known throughout the galaxy that Sateda was one of the last worlds, before the Ermen, that the Wraiths ravaged, sparing almost no one. Somewhere on different worlds, rumors circulate that the proud and warlike Satedans still escaped, but in fact… Nomads, for example, know no such people.
And frankly, I don't care about Satedans in principle. I recall that in the series there weren't many good people among them.
But specifically, one Satedan, Ronon Dex, interests me. But the meeting, it seems, is dragging on.
"The hyper-tunnel is established," Kirik continued to inform us. "Arrow, two, three, five. Five 'Arrows' and a detachment of approximately fifty Wraiths have passed through the gate. They are heading your way. Ten squads of four soldiers and one commander or Wraith hunter each. Standard armament."
"Confirming," Ihaari reported to me. "The 'Arrows' have crossed the center of the location, and enemy infantry is also within the kill zone."
Unlike Kirik and his detachment, the senior engineer used not only optical observation equipment but also Lantian technology.
"Aren't we too few to fight such a horde?" Larinn hissed, looking at me with a reproachful glance. "Misha, if someone from my people dies just because you don't have a backup plan…"
"We need to prepare for battle," Teyla said, shifting to the left flank of the old wall of the ruined house where we were hiding.
"Everything is accounted for," I assured Larinn, checking if my personal shield was in place and if the Ermen grenades were ready for combat.
The howling, drawn-out sounds of the flying "Arrows" could already be heard in the air. They made my heart sink, my hands start to sweat… This is normal, considering that we are clearly visible on the "Arrow" scanners.
Twelve people near an active transmitter medallion, created to track people with Ancient genes. It's no wonder that as soon as the "Arrows" detected our presence and numbers, they called in "infantry" in addition to the fighters.
In the dark of night, the activated gathering beams of the Wraith fighters, approaching us, were clearly visible.
My mind calmly calculated the situation…
"Ihaari, launch it," I ordered when the nearest beam was about twenty meters away. The scanner clearly showed that the mass of Wraiths was already where we needed them. They are circling, flanking in case we manage to break free from the collection.
"Activating the EMP generator," Ihaari warned.
The air immediately fell silent. Not even static interference remained.
The sounds of the Wraith fighters disappeared, their gathering beams dissolved. Only the sounds of the "Arrows" falling from a height of fifty meters, destined to crash into the ground far beyond our position.
So, Operation "Catch More Wraiths" has begun.