The heavy door with stained-glass inserts slid aside, letting me into the laboratory.
"That was a great joke," I said, watching the Proculucian woman use tweezers to insert neat cubes of a bluish-black material into the massive reactor housing. Naquadah, I presumed.
"Glad you liked it," the girl said without taking her eyes off her work, placing a cube of the substance into a special cell. Five more like it were already in place inside the core.
Critically examining her work, Chaya nodded in satisfaction, then pressed a few buttons. The seemingly transparent protective panel lowered, blocking the central part of the device. Within seconds, the transparent flask that ran two-thirds of the way through the massive device — a dead ringer for the reactor she'd built to power the "Satellite" glowed with a steady white-blue light.
"Excellent," the girl said contentedly, entering a combination on the control panel and peering at the readings on a separate display. "Energy output is stable, protective systems are in order... Well, that's another one done," she looked at me. "What joke were you talking about exactly?"
"Ronon Dex," I specified. "One of the 'Runners' that the Demon Hive Ship was tracking."
"The only one of all those 'Runners' who, after we rescued them and removed the beacons, agreed to join us," Sar corrected. "What's the joke?"
"The joke is that you gave the order to track down those 'Runners' without consulting me," I said, restrained but still angry.
"The reconnaissance group that was checking the new 'beacon' signals operates from Atlantis," Chaya said coldly. "And since you decided you had the right to lie in the infirmary unconscious, I had to set objectives myself. Especially after one of the 'beacons' disappeared. The 'Runner' was found and killed by other Wraiths, not 'Hunters'. Another hive, on a harvest. Was I supposed to wait until you came to, to authorize this mission? Well, for the first five days it wasn't even clear if you'd pull through or be a helpless invalid for life. Either way, I had to give the order. And I did. And if you don't like it happening that way, then don't make yourself fall out of your people's lives and become unable to make decisions."
"Is that so?" My eyes bored into the girl like a cat's claws into its owner's back.
"Yes, it is," Chaya turned to me, crossing her arms over her chest. And looked away from me.
Chaya Sar and a bit of condemnation.
It looked pretty funny, especially considering her peaceful nature and absolute inability to get angry.
I stepped closer and looked at the girl with a smile.
"Is Atar angry?"
Goddess Atar — that's what the inhabitants of Proculus called her while she was Ascended. She didn't remember it herself, but I told her.
"Atar would have struck you with lightning about seven times to fix your synapses a bit," the former Ascended said, still looking away. "You're lucky I decided to become mortal. But apparently, the slap didn't sober you up, since you don't understand how much I worried about you."
"Goddesses don't worry," I couldn't resist the jab.
The girl looked at me with a reproachful gaze.
"I've started taking hand-to-hand combat lessons from Saya," she warned. "If you end up in a hospital bed again, I'll hit you in the vital organs."
"Just not the head."
"That's not a vital part of you, judging by how often you risk it for nothing."
"Are you sure you're not jealous that I risked myself to save Trebal?"
"No," the girl pursed her lips slightly and turned away. "We're both united in thinking you're a bit of an idiot."
"Name-calling isn't nice."
"I'm not scolding, I'm stating your probable diagnosis," the girl's gaze burned into me. "For your information, idiocy is the extreme degree of mental retardation among humans."
I put my arm around the girl's shoulders, lifted her slightly off her stool, and pulled her to me. Chaya resisted for show, then leaned in, resting her head on my chest.
"I was scared," she said quietly. So quietly I barely heard her. "Trebal and I sat by your bed for six days, afraid it would only get worse. A couple of times you were right on the edge. Did you know your heart stopped three times?"
"That doesn't match the number of times I was on the edge."
"Thank Seliz, she never left your side," Chaya whispered, pressing tighter against me. "We were all running on stimulants until you got better and showed positive progress..."
I hugged the girl tighter.
"It warms my heart that I'm always waited for in Atlantis."
"But not in pieces," Chaya pulled back, looked into my eyes, then at the cheek she'd slapped when I first came to in the infirmary. In ten days, we still hadn't talked. Not with her, not with Trebal. The latter had gone to oversee the repair of her battleship and help with it as much as she could.
Chaya had been disappearing on Dorandan, blocking the gates during yet another experiment. And she wouldn't answer the subspace communication between Atlantis and the outpost on the planet. The technical team on Dorandan generally reported that everything was fine, but gave no details.
"I suppose I should apologize for that," the girl stroked my cheek, smiling guiltily. "I know you're a reasonable person and understand words, but when I saw you bleeding, with your brain covered in hematomas, your eyes filled with blood... Seliz was literally restoring blood circulation in your mind molecule by molecule. Even in better times, such an operation was non-trivial... We were so scared... I just lost control."
"We're human, and emotions aren't alien to us," I reminded her. "You couldn't handle yours; I couldn't allow my people to die."
"People always die in war," Chaya said bitterly.
"But I had a chance to save them, so I took the risk."
"A Lantian would never have done that," Sar reminded me of this society's immutable law: the genetically less developed are not saved. "But I keep forgetting that your body is developed, but your thoughts..."
"Say 'primitive' and you'll get it on the soft spot," I warned.
"I was going to say 'human,'" the girl lowered her eyes guiltily. "That's probably why everything happened... Being human wasn't foreign to me, and then you showed up..."
"Are you saying my humanity is the reason for your fall from the higher plane of existence?" I smiled, tucking a strand of the girl's hair behind her ear.
"It contradicts several laws of the universe, but like attracts like," Chaya sighed, pulling away from me and returning to her worktable. "But keep in mind, I'm very angry with you. And with myself."
"Can you elaborate on the latter?"
"I understand that I won't be able to stop you from being on the cutting edge of attack and conflict," the girl said. "And Trebal won't be able to. Or Teyla. Or Larrin. Or all the secrets of the galaxy. It's your nature — to meet fate's blows with your head held high..."
"And then bleed out," I added. "With hematomas in the head."
"Did I already mention mental retardation?" Chaya smiled timidly.
"You know, on Earth, couples in love have a tradition — jokes that only they understand," I sat down on the edge of the table. "So for us, it turns out I joke about you in the context of exploding planets. And you joke about my mental abilities."
"And Trebal jokes that you're an insatiable universe fanboy who finally got his hands on the beauties he ogled on his computer screen and uses his position, charisma, and genetics to charm us all."
"How do you manage to say such obscenities with such a sweet expression?" I chuckled.
"What's wrong with my expression?" Chaya pouted mockingly. "Has your back not healed in a while?"
"I'm ready to receive those wounds every day," I assured.
"Be glad you're in atmosphere," came a very familiar voice with tones of bitchiness, anger, and a drop of tenderness. "Here you can brake without maneuvering thrusters."
"And why is everyone hinting at my intellectual inadequacy today?" I asked, looking at the girl who had entered. "Hello, Trebal."
The Dorandan came up to me, reached out, took my chin, turned my face slightly toward her, showing the cheek she'd slapped ten days ago...
"And what are you all hoping to find there?" I asked.
"Marks proving our worry left a lasting impression," Trebal replied in a deliberately stern tone. "Next time, I'll hit harder."
"You nearly tore my head off, you know."
"Too bad, I'm losing my touch," the commander of the Hippaforalkus's emotionless face looked at me reproachfully. "Aren't you going to apologize?"
Déjà vu hit me hard.
"I'm not ready for marriage in this universe."
"That wasn't the question."
"The answer is in context. On Earth, there's a rule: if a man can't apologize for anything, he'll be a bad husband."
"For anything?" Trebal's eyes flared with rage, and her hand reached for her holster. "For anything?"
"Reminder — there's a naquadah reactor behind him," Chaya said. "Miss, and you'll vaporize the entire central spire."
"The whole thing?" the Dorandan frowned.
"Definitely that level," Chaya mused. "And everything above that would collapse on its own."
"Fine," Trebal reluctantly pulled her hand away from her pulsar's grip. "Live. The quiet one saved you."
"I prefer the nickname Queen-Smart One," Chaya shot her a look.
"And you, by the way," I chuckled, seeing Trebal twitch at the nickname Alabaster had coined, "are Queen-Blade."
"Disgusting," the Dorandan grimaced. "Lexically and etymologically, the phrase 'queen-blade' implies that I am myself a blade, a warrior, in the Wraith understanding. But, actually, I'm a commander of warriors. So 'Queen of Blades' would sound better."
Déjà vu number two.
"Just don't go flying to the Zerg," I asked.
"What?" Trebal didn't understand.
"I'll tell you later," I promised.
"You know how to intrigue," the Dorandan snorted.
"Chaya," I called the girl. "A question has arisen... Can I count on an honest answer?"
"Have I ever lied to you?" Sar was surprised. Seeing me and Trebal look at her skeptically, the girl from Proculus shook her head. "I've withheld information, evaded the topic, omitted details, dropped a subject — yes. But I haven't lied."
"Touché," I sighed. "So, attention, question, experts. Playing against you is an intellectually inferior, genetically superior transmigrator from Earth. And the question is: Chaya, did you bite Trebal while I was unconscious?"
"No," Sar protested.
"May the Ori take you, Mikhail," Trebal grimaced. "What barbarism is that?"
"It's just strange that the Queen of Blades started spouting scientific terms about the meaning and origin of words. Not like you."
"Now that's sexism," Chaya pretended to be interested in the naquadah generator.
"And the reason you need to..." Trebal started, then stopped. "Fine, live. I'm kind today."
"Really?"
"Yes."
"Sure?"
"Absolutely!"
"Doesn't seem like it..."
"I said I'm kind!" Trebal raised her voice, almost shouting.
"Now I believe you," I sighed. "So, how's your battleship doing?"
"Everything's been restored enough for it to fly to the outpost and descend into the dock," the Dorandan said in a more peaceful voice. "And it'll stay there for quite a while."
That last part sounded extremely displeased.
"Chaya," I addressed the one I suspected was the reason for Trebal's irritation. "Anything to say?"
"Of course," she nodded. "The ship is old, and failing equipment with damage that standard diagnostics don't detect could fail again at any moment. Besides, it has extensive damage, and most of the primary, secondary, and backup systems simply won't work without a major overhaul. I thought... Basically, if you don't risk the Ares in every battle, we'll have time to upgrade the Hippaforalkus to approximately its level."
"Approximately?" Trebal squinted. "And who said 'exactly the same'?"
"I can't just take one ship and copy it into another," Chaya spread her hands. "And I wouldn't recommend installing a full control chair. Or copying the onboard computer protocols. It would be better to leave the Hippaforalkus's software as is, just adding newer systems and equipment than it currently has. Besides, they're practically completely destroyed anyway. So... It'll be better to manufacture everything new, based on the Ares model, and end up with a starship equal in power and defense, but still not as... treacherous."
"We talk about it like it's a living being," I noted.
"No, and it's not an artificial intelligence," Chaya sighed, tired of repeating the same thing. "Its programming is more perfect. It's a new generation of weapon. And, to be honest, it's not to blame for what you did."
"Oh really?" Trebal snorted. "The Hippaforalkus would never have allowed anything like that..."
I looked at the girl, and she immediately wilted.
"Of course, if you don't mess with the safety settings," she added, also remembering how I ended up in the Atlantis infirmary for the first time after mental contact with the battle cruiser. "But, either way, the Hippaforalkus has limiters installed."
"The Ares is a prototype," Chaya reminded. "In some places, the Lantians and Ytranci wrote in restraining protocols; in others, they decided they weren't needed. I looked over its programming protocols... Basically, it's a weapon honed so that at every access level, the crew knows perfectly well what they're doing and understands the consequences."
"It didn't let me interfere with the hyperdrive and navigation settings," I recalled. "But it let me exceed the allowable number of controlled projectiles. What's the logic?"
"The logic is that they're different systems, the consequences of interference are also different," Chaya sighed. "I'm still working on its programs, I've prepared several 'patches,' but to activate them, you'll need to sit in the control chair..."
The girl paused meaningfully.
"Yes, I also thought he'd refuse," Trebal sighed.
"The Ares is currently our most advanced weapon," I reminded. "Offensive, I mean. We need to make it safe."
"If that's possible," the Dorandan grumbled. "I insist we take it apart for parts and use them to upgrade the Hippaforalkus."
"No," I categorically rejected the idea. "We're not going to build one battleship out of two. We'll stick to the Hippaforalkus upgrade plan. By the way, I take it we want to install weapons on it similar to those on the Ares?"
"Yes," said Chaya. "They're far more powerful than the current ones. The ones that remain," she added. "The old impulse cannons will have to be dismantled — they're not compatible with the updated power and control model."
"You just want to take them to install on Atlantis!" Trebal flared up. "You're stripping the Hippaforalkus bare!"
"Whoa, stop, ladies!" I spread my arms as if separating two boxers into different corners. "What upgrade? And why am I only hearing about it now?"
"You were unconscious," both girls said almost in unison.
"Fine, you got me," I agreed. "But can you tell me now?"
"Atlantis has no weapons left except for three projectile arsenals," Chaya said. "No defensive, no offensive. If we rely on them and the shield... I don't think we'd have much chance of surviving some attack or raid when the city is on the surface."
"So the Queen-Smart One decided the best option was to remove the remaining impulse cannons from the Hippaforalkus and place them in the city," Trebal's voice held resentment and displeasure. "Although I suggested just supplementing the battleship's arsenal with new guns..."
"New guns?" I seemed to be losing the thread of the conversation. And I'd only come to talk about the new recruit! "Where are we getting new guns?"
"What do you think I was doing all these ten days on Dorandan?" Chaya was surprised.
"Building us new guns?" I clarified.
"No, testing prototypes of the ones we assembled after studying the technology on the Ares," the girl countered. Seeing that further explanation was needed, she reached for her laptop and lifted the lid. "Here, look."
"No kidding," I whistled. "We even have laptops that aren't just a couple of tiny screens?"
If I didn't know it was the same Ancient computer before me, I would have thought they'd found a warehouse of electronics somewhere on Ermen.
"I refined one of the ones found while clearing out the hangar," Chaya explained. "I smelted a new glass matrix for a full-sized monitor, redesigned a few components..."
"Can we get back to the guns?" Trebal asked.
"Of course," Chaya ran her fingers over the screen and expanded... a technical drawing. "This is a recreated copy of the fourth-generation twin-barreled impulse cannon that's on the Ares."
"I've seen the guns on both battleships; they look the same externally."
"They differ in material quality and internal equipment," Chaya assured me. "The guns on the Hippaforalkus, and indeed on every battleship including the third generation, are single-power."
"And for those from Earth?"
"They receive a constant power charge from the energy source," Trebal explained. "The same energy charge is put into each shot."
"Got it now," I nodded. "And on the Ares, it's not like that?"
"No," said Chaya. "Its installations are multi-power."
"The charge is differentiated by its power," Trebal interjected.
"Figured," I chuckled. "And what was the purpose of that?"
"An experiment," Trebal stated.
"Yes, but a very sound one," Chaya added. "Apparently, the creators of the Ares figured that after a century of war with the Wraiths, it would be a good idea to create something truly useful and adequate. And surprisingly, it worked."
"More details."
"Up until the Ares, impulse cannons used an energy charge of, say, a hundred units to fire," Chaya launched into her favorite topic. "A hundred units for a shot at a cruiser, a hive ship, an asteroid, or a 'dart.' Because of the high energy consumption, impulse cannons fire slowly, since combat protocols prioritize the shield, hyperdrive, sublight and maneuvering engines, and projectile power supply. Less energy is allocated to the guns. Consequently, they fire less often."
"Because it's a secondary weapon," Trebal explained. "Which only supplements the battleship when it runs out of projectiles. But these problems don't exist when there's a ZPM installed on the ship."
"So, a hundred years of war, the Ancients run out of projectiles and their ZPM supplies are dwindling," I realized. "The ships become less useful in battle due to reactor energy overuse."
"Exactly," Chaya confirmed. "The creators of the Ares took several approaches at once. First, they optimized the starship's energy consumption, installed more efficient super-reactors using a rare type of enriched and super-purified naquadah, reworked the shield system and engine power supply..."
"In fact, they did something better than what the crew of the Aurora was working on in the stasis pods," Trebal added gloomily. "About twice as good, maybe a little more."
"Not bad," I agreed.
"And the creators of the Ares also built new cannons," Chaya continued. "They didn't just connect them to the onboard computer for automatic fire at all targets, but also worked out the energy expenditure. Say, destroying a dart doesn't require a hundred units of energy — ten is enough. For damaging the hull of a large Wraith ship, yes, a hundred units will suffice. The onboard computer constantly analyzes the combat situation, selecting appropriate scenarios. Accordingly, if the cannons' task is to repel a dart attack, there's a redistribution of energy to shields and engines. While the operator, or the pilot of the Control Chair, fights using projectiles, the cannons and onboard computer can protect the ship with less energy-intensive but more frequent fire. And yes, if someone hadn't stuck their nose in with their ideas about controlling the guns from the Control Chair, they might have gotten away without a subdural hematoma."
"I'll keep that in mind," I assured her. "So the cannons are adaptive to the enemy. And can the charge power be more than a hundred units?"
"It depends on the enemy," Chaya admitted. "The onboard computer needs time to understand weak points and develop a suitable firing and power-consumption mode for a new type of enemy ship. While for those targets it's encountered and for which the 'sighting' shots went smoothly, it uses ready-made algorithms. But generally, there are technical limitations on energy transmission. No more than five hundred units — that's how much the Ares, according to its log, output during the super-hive bombardment. Any more, and the energy-conducting buses would have burned out. But it's unlikely we'll face enemies like that again, isn't it?"
"I hope not," Trebal said grimly.
"That's a brilliant idea," I said, mulling over what I'd heard from Chaya. "Strange the Ancients didn't think of something like this earlier."
"Why would they, if there was always enough ammunition?" Trebal asked rhetorically. "And there was no shortage of ZPMs either."
"Well, we have those problems," Chaya reminded us. "So I decided to continue the work. No one would have let me dismantle the installation from the ship, so I worked from the technical data. I won't say it worked on the first try, but I did manage to get an acceptable result. I used developments from the artillery platform of Project Arcturus — the alloy of the gun barrels there can withstand a charge power of up to a thousand units."
"And how much power is in a projectile?" I asked, interested.
"From five hundred, and it drops with each hit on a target," Trebal said. "When a projectile strikes a target, it either burns through it or uses explosive induction, creating a detonation area around itself. In the first case, it spends about fifty units, in the second, about one hundred. I don't remember the exact numbers."
"Those are the exact numbers," Chaya said. "Misha?"
I think they heard me groan.
"There's an expression — using a cannon to shoot at sparrows," I explained. "That's pretty much what I was doing, attacking darts with projectiles. Excessive weaponry for such insignificant targets."
"The Lantians used them that way too," Trebal said, almost pitying me. "Though they relied more on automation — fire and forget, there are lots of them, they'll kill each other. Piloting projectiles isn't really common practice; not everyone can do it."
"Can we manufacture such cannons?" I asked Chaya.
"Not quickly, but we can," she admitted. "The prototypes took a long time to make; it's practically hand assembly."
"Well, we don't have any assembly lines anyway," I reminded her. "Manufactories of the distant future."
"True," Chaya said, flustered. "For now, all we have is a pair of prototype twin-gun cannons. One is in working condition, the other... I think if we refine it, we can bring it back to life, especially since it didn't explode too badly during testing."
"Didn't explode too badly?" Trebal bristled. "Chaya, what did you do to my planet?"
"Nothing that would cause it significant damage," the Proculsian woman's eyes darted. "Just a small crater."
"How small?" I asked quietly.
"Ten kilometers in diameter, five hundred meters deep," Chaya admitted. "But who cares about those mountains? It'll make a nice little lake... After a while."
"Don't tell me you destroyed the Western Mountains," Trebal groaned. "The view from there was amazing!"
"I didn't destroy them completely," the girl said, grimacing. "Just about two thirds..."
"Chaya," I said, seeing that Sar was clearly not telling the whole truth, decided to warn her.
"Fine, nine-tenths," she added with a sigh. "But one mountain definitely remains!"
"Definitely?" Trebal squinted.
"Well, as long as we haven't used it as a target for the second prototype — yes..."
"Chaya!!!"
"Well, what do you want me to do now? Build you mountains?"
"Build me some mountains," flashed through my mind, a crazy thought.