Taking a deep breath, I turned my head toward the snowy white figure of the Ascended standing nearby.
"Tell me this is a joke."
"Unfortunately," sorrow appeared on Melia's face. "It's not. The threat to the existence of all life… That's no joking matter."
I couldn't disagree.
What the Ancient told me… Made my brains boil.
"That doesn't explain why your Hippocrates summoned me from another universe," I muttered.
"Hippophoralkus," Melia corrected me. Interesting woman. Calm, kind, non-confrontational. I'd classify her as a seasoned phlegmatic if not for the emotions showing on her face. I couldn't bring myself to say they were fake. "His name is Hippophoralkus. He was a general in our army during the war with the Wraith…"
Something about her, how she held herself, spoke, behaved, made me trust her. Compared to the unexpectedly prim Ganos Lal, the former member of the Atlantis High Council made an exclusively positive impression.
I thought Morgana would behave that way, but…
"I understand your confusion, Mikhail," the Ancient said. "Our community was equally shocked by the general's action. Ganos Lal… They were close. And his action, contradicting everything we fought for, everything we believe in… It upset many."
"How can a desperate plea for help upset?" I asked. "You told me all the Ascended in the Milky Way are destroyed. You don't know what's happening in that vast galaxy. The expedition of Earthlings you foresaw to Atlantis was supposed to happen several months ago, but nothing changed. And your most renowned warlord decided to bring in someone for help. Since none of you dared to become human again…"
"The Ascension process isn't a game of yo-yo," the Ancient objected. Seeing the surprise on my face, she smiled modestly. "Sorry. I involuntarily sensed your thoughts…"
"No harm done," I waved it off, continuing to pace around the Ascended. "That's the least of my concerns right now."
"Usually people guard their thoughts from outsiders," the Ancient noted. "However… Now I understand why the general turned to you for help specifically."
"Because he could motivate me," I shrugged. "I needed what he could provide. And he needed someone who would agree. And, judging by everything, has at least some idea of the conditions they'll have to operate in."
"And he also saw in you an inquisitive, inventive mind, bravery, determination to see things through," Melia listed. "And much more. Perhaps you reminded him of himself in his youth."
"Wouldn't it be easier to ask him?" I inquired. "You punished him in some elaborate way, but so he's always in plain sight…"
Not hearing a response, I looked the Ancient in the face.
A mask of despair and mild panic had frozen on it.
Not that I didn't care, but…
"You didn't punish him," I whispered.
The Ascended mimicked a sad smile. Suspiciously, she smiles a lot in our conversation. I recall, a smile is an attempt to gain trust and endear oneself.
"The rules of Ascension were written long before us," the Ancient said. "And the punishments for breaking them… Are also severe. Interference in the affairs of living beings is just a minor crime in the eyes of the community. But time travel, influence on the space-time continuum… We watch over the universe we live in. And it's not in our interest to let it turn into a dead wasteland," Melia assured. "Influence on space and time almost always elicits a harsh reaction from the Ascended."
Now I understand why, when the Earth expedition first arrived on Atlantis and nearly perished in full, but managed to use the time machine of the Ancient named Janus, that fact — the guest from the future — caused anger and condemnation from the other Lanteans. It wasn't grumbling. They feared that those who Ascended before them would punish the remnants of the civilization.
Strange society they have.
"And especially — crossing universe boundaries…" Melia continued. "Little can be worse than that. Such actions require more serious sanctions. Otherwise, there'd be no discipline."
Wait a minute… what did they do to the Voice⁉ Damn, to Hippophoralkus⁉
"What did you do to him⁈" clenching my fists, I stepped up to the Ancient.
"Mikhail, I ask you to calm down. We both understand that you're not really interested in that," the Ascended said. "The general fulfilled his part of the deal before taking you from your universe. You don't need to worry about that."
"And for that, thanks. So, what did you do to him?"
There was a chance I'd find this guy sooner or later and ask him a couple questions.
"I'm afraid I can't answer that question," a sorrowful expression appeared on Melia's face.
Clear. The answer would influence my further actions too directly. Telling me the truth would be tantamount to sending me to him if Hippophoralkus survived.
"Alright, suppose," I said. "Though I doubt he pulled it off in secret from everyone…"
"He had like-minded allies," Melia said. "They helped him breach the gaps between universes and carry out his plan."
"And they…"
"Dead. The general completely exhausted their energy. No, it's not murder — according to our information, they took that step voluntarily. A sacrifice for the greater good."
"Yeah, sure. Too convoluted a combination," I admitted. "I repeat — it would have been much simpler to find an assistant here, in Pegasus. I'm sure there are your descendants here with the ATA Gene."
"You know perfectly well they're here," Melia said. "As you know they hardly developed enough to accept the fact of Atlantis's existence and the technologies contained within it at the proper level. And unfortunately, we don't have time to train them. Besides, the general acted tactically correctly. Violations of the space-time continuum at this level haven't occurred since the beginning of time… He knew the Community wouldn't react to such interference immediately. And he anticipated that the appearance in Atlantis of well-known and prepared people from other realities would attract our attention sooner than placing a consciousness from another universe into a body created on Atlantis."
"Why?"
"Moving objects and organisms between universes is detrimental to the receiving universe," the Ancient said. "Realities vibrate at a certain frequency. Moving part of one reality to another causes significant distortions. The longer it happens, the more horrific the consequences."
Running her words through my head, I clarified:
"You answered because you know: I can't use this knowledge, right?"
"We'll stop you if you try to cross universe boundaries," Melia promised. "I assure you, we won't limit ourselves to simple suggestion. Stopping such violations is in our interest."
"Why?"
"If we don't, others will," the Ascended said.
Yeah, yeah… And in the series, everything somehow happened without the Ascended's admonitions to the heroes. Maybe because some "can," others "can't"? Since the former must do what's planned to give the universe the needed push. While the actions of the others would lead only to negativity?
Melia looked me in the eyes and smiled.
"You understand," she stated. "That's good. I think you'll agree to help us."
"You?" I was surprised.
"Despite the fact that the general is no longer a be…" she fell silent, catching herself mid-word. "The general can no longer influence reality, but what he did it for won't resolve itself."
"It seems out of place to suggest you go to the Milky Way galaxy yourselves and sort it all out there?"
"When the anomaly first manifested, that's exactly what we did," the Ancient assured. "None of the scouts returned. As far as we understand, whatever is killing the Ascended in the Milky Way acts on a regular basis."
"Merlin's device?" I suggested.
Moros, also known as Merlin, created the Sangraal — a mechanism that destroyed Ascended. But Ganos Lal destroyed the device. Though she spared the life of its creator.
"We don't know," Melia admitted. "That's why we're asking you to ascertain the nature of the threat. And eliminate it."
"In other words, save your lives," I said.
"Exactly so," the woman nodded. "The anomaly is slowly expanding. It won't be long before it reaches Pegasus."
"How long?"
"I'm afraid we don't know that."
"How so?" I was surprised. "There's a pattern to the expansion, right?"
"There is," another guilty smile.
"But I have to figure that out myself, right?" I squinted.
"I'm afraid so," she saddened. "It's not our whims. It's the rules of the Ascended."
"Which you won't break even to save yourselves?" I was surprised.
"Yes."
"Seems your survival instinct is a bit glitchy," I muttered. "Any living being, if in tune with their mind, worries about survival. Even if you're more developed than simple humans, that doesn't mean…"
"I'm afraid it does mean that," Melia said. "Becoming Ascended means renouncing earthly attachments, obligations, and laws. Releasing spiritual energy to transition to a new level of existence."
"Uh-huh… And I heard that because Ascension isn't in the cards for me? Right?"
"The probability of that… Is minimal."
"But it exists!"
"The magnitude of the probability is such that it's called an error margin," Melia tilted her head slightly. "I think you understand why."
Oh, I understood.
"Because my character doesn't allow running from problems for good," I said. "To fight while there's a chance. The general wouldn't call for help someone who would sidestep at the first opportunity."
"You're a smart man, Mikhail. At least when it comes to life philosophy."
Could this be considered prim mockery? I think not.
"How much longer will the shield hold?" I asked.
"I can't answer that question."
Too many questions. And a categorical understanding that I won't get answers.
Sad.
"I could use some help," I said. "Without knowledge of your language, understanding of the technologies… Searching for the problem could drag on for years. That could cost you your lives."
"We're willing to take the risk," the Ascended pronounced. "I understand your motivations to make things easier for yourself. But to go further than Hippophoralkus did… We simply have no right. That would be interference. But I'm sure you'll find a way out of the situation. You're already lucky," she spread her arms, "you're on Atlantis. Our home, the repository of our knowledge. What help could be greater than this?"
"At least a slightly charged ZPM would be worthwhile help," I admitted.
Melia gave me a sympathetic look. The kind you give a child who says such heresy to their parents' faces… Both they and the parents know the truth, but the show must go on in full.
"Understood," I sighed. "Saving the drowning is the drowning's own business."
"In this case, the expression can be taken literally," Melia assured me. "Believe me, Mikhail, I'm sorry that neither I nor my comrades can help you with anything more."
I wanted to respond with Stanislavsky's words, but the mood to joke was gone.
Not only did clarifying the situation add depressive moments, but I didn't get direct help — not even hints were voiced. Just "you'll handle it yourself, soldier! Here's a rifle without bullets, there's an enemy army — bayonet them all!"
"If several months have passed since the Earth expedition was supposed to arrive, how do you explain the fact that I saw the city's flooding? Spot on, like in the series. Shouldn't it have happened earlier?"
"Misconception," Melia stated. "The expedition consisted of several hundred people. And right after arrival, they spread across a large area of the city, forcing its systems to awaken emergently to provide proper conditions for a large contingent of sentient beings. Not to mention," she looked at the deactivated hologram control terminal, "that this device, the stasis chamber, a number of other systems used in the events you know upon the expedition's arrival, consume a large amount of energy. The cascade activation of some systems led to the activation of others — and so on throughout the city. You managed to avoid that — so far. But luck is just the remnant of a project, isn't it?"
I understand what she's talking about.
In the series, the expedition played Melia's fascinating voice message at least twice to understand the situation. Plus, the stasis chamber was used to sustain the life of that very first expedition leader who, in the original events, went to the past. And I think that's just the tip of the iceberg of energy waste examples.
"The Atlantis computer, to compensate for the energy loss powering all systems upon the expedition's arrival, reduced the size of the shield covering the city, right?" I asked.
"Correct. In your case, it happened due to activating the DHD," the Ascended pronounced. "So, the energy expenditure indicators in your case are even lower than in the events you know. So, the city battery levels now are the same as after the expedition's arrival. With the only difference that you activated fewer city systems, and therefore, you have slightly more time until complete depletion than the Earthlings had."
"At least some pluses," I grumbled. Then clarified. "So, we're right in that time interval when the expedition should have arrived for the first time and drowned in full force?"
"Yes."
My guess about Janus's machine and the "primacy" of the expedition turned out correct. As did everything it entailed: the absence of a city rescue system when the ZPM discharges. Or "batteries," as Melia called them.
"So what next?"
"I can't answer that question."
"Then let's just speculate," I suggested. "If Atlantis doesn't fall into Earthlings' hands, they won't improve their position in the war, won't find weapons against enemies, and so on. That will lead to defeat, right?"
"If humanity in the Milky Way is still alive," Melia corrected me. "But we know absolutely nothing about that."
Curious. And some of her answers aren't so evasive after all. Seems the Ancient is still walking the edge and sharing what information she has.
"Hm… I won't say the very fact of the expedition not interfering with the Wraith's hibernation saddens me," I admitted. "Maybe the locals will live another fifty years in peace."
"Only if the anomaly doesn't reach Pegasus sooner," Melia noted.
What a soulful woman, huh? Doesn't let you forget the higher purpose.
"And what will you do if I just pack up and leave?" I asked. "If I don't fulfill the obligations I took on."
"Nothing," Melia answered calmly. "We don't interfere in the affairs of living beings."
"Don't interfere directly," I clarified. "And so, if you accidentally drop a brick somewhere, you're not to blame if I'm passing below just when it falls on my head. Right?"
The Ascended limited herself to a simple smile.
Somehow her facial expressions stopped pleasing me.
"Well," I said dryly. "I understand no more help from you is to be expected. Thanks for the conversation, though. If you're bored — drop by. We'll have some tea, eat some of this," I pulled a bar from my backpack and twirled it between my fingers. "Whatever it is."
"I never liked them," Melia confessed. "Potentially, they were supposed to solve the problem of limited food resources. But… the taste is just… specific."
"Means you made them from bad raw materials," I shrugged.
"When you're under siege, even whale blubber doesn't seem repulsive," the Ancient assured me.
And for some reason, I lost my appetite. Maybe because I remembered — the Lanteans taught local whales to communicate with them. Then ate them.
I sighed doomedly.
"Friendship is magic," muttering the hackneyed phrase, I put the bar back in the backpack. "And magic, as is known, is heresy…"
Melia smiled a bit wider.
"That's exactly how Moros once characterized the proposal to install drinking fountains in every corridor," she said, to no one in particular. "He was a conservative Lantean. But even he, though he reduced the number of installations, deemed the idea of quantitatively expanding devices dispensing desalinated water into the city's public areas worthwhile."
"If nostalgia for the past strikes, you're welcome," I hospitably pointed to the exit from the holographic chamber. "I won't refuse company. And I assure you, I'm from an intelligent family, so I won't pester."
Melia looked at me with a surprised gaze. Her smile became unnatural. It happens when you realize your interlocutor has spouted rare nonsense, but you don't want to offend them.
"Thank you for the offer," she said. "I'm afraid I must decline. My mortal path is complete. Potentially, of course, it's a good offer, but… only potentially."
"Why?" I asked.
"I'm afraid I can't answer that question…"
"There are too few of you," it dawned on me. "Not that many Ancients lived in Pegasus, and then you all returned to the Milky Way. And already there you Ascended… And then the anomaly happened…"
Melia stopped smiling.
"Your intellect potentially frightens me," she said. "Was that a guess or a conclusion?"
"Something in between," I muttered, rummaging through my memory. "The Ascended don't burn incense on their plane of existence, right?"
"Not sure I understand…"
"The reason you missed Hippophoralkus's actions," I snapped my fingers. "If you were doing nothing, you'd have seen him plotting something. But you were busy. And what could pure energy beings be busy with when nothing mortal interests them anymore?"
Melia looked at me without a trace of a smile.
"In the series, the Ascended Ori told one of the heroes that the Ancients were busy hiding the galaxy populated by their descendants from the Ori's gaze," I said, looking into her eyes. "You didn't let them see the humans they could convert to their faith. That's why you weren't all in the Milky Way at the start of the anomaly. Someone was shielding them from the Ori, someone — Pegasus. That's why you're not omnipresent and omniscient. That's why rule violations happen — there are too few of you to keep track of everything even within one tiny galaxy like Pegasus. Hiding galaxies takes a ton of your energy…"
Can a being made of light pale?
Turns out, yes.
"You don't have to answer, Melia," I said. "It's clear enough."
Not absolutely everything, but… Now I know: the Ascended can't react to my actions instantly. One of them would have to "leave their post" to stop me.
And that already opens up maneuver room. Very wide room in case I don't want to help them.
"Seems we underestimated you," Melia pronounced in a voice devoid of any emotion. "Your intuition is well-developed."
"And I don't skimp on brains," I nodded, watching as she closed her eyes for a few seconds. "Warned your kin that I learned too much?"
"Much, but not enough to decide on your elimination and break the rules," the woman said. "We just took some measures so you don't make the situation worse."
"And what measures?"
"Regrettably, but you have one less ship now."
And her face doesn't show she's regretful.
"Janus's time machine," I guessed. "Deprived me of the chance to leave slamming the door."
"Rather prevented irreversible violations of the space-time continuum and changes to the timeline," she articulated. "Potentially far more dangerous than if you simply leave Atlantis to save yourself, not the city. Pity if you do exactly that."
Of course.
Because I hoped to figure out that thing over time and improve my position by grabbing things from the past that I need now. For example, discharged ZPMs here that held charge in deep antiquity. Ammo reserves, ships, find some technologies before they fall into enemy hands.
"But the pity isn't for me, but for yourselves, right?" I asked. "After all, if I leave, you'll have to get your hands really dirty to try fixing the situation again, right?"
Melia was silent. And her answer wasn't needed — everything was clear anyway.
"You're afraid," I continued voicing my guesses. "You are afraid of death from the anomaly after all. But you don't want to, or convinced yourselves you can't leave your Ascended posts. So you act through mortals' hands. After all, you just need not to get burned with rigging cause-and-effect chains…"
"Now you know," she pronounced.
"I know," I echoed. "You're helpless. Practically. Which means, if I face punishment for my actions, it'll be much later than when I do something you don't like… For example, if I abandon the dying city, you won't strike me with lightning on the spot."
"Potentially, the city can still be saved!" she almost cried out. "Its potential is enormous! I ask you to reconsider! If Atlantis survives, you'll gain not potentially, but a real advanced scientific and military base."
"Which didn't help you defeat even a more understandable enemy, the Wraith," I sighed. "And that was ten thousand years ago. And now, the city's potency is hardly…"
"You're just not seeing the potential benefit of preserving Atlantis," Melia declared. "Afraid of potential problems you'll face."
"What's this 'potential benefit'?" I was surprised. "Is it that hard to speak my native language?"
"No," she cut off. "I didn't make a mistake. You're just not able to understand your own and the city's full potential…"
So much potentiality in her speech. And "potentiys" too, though that's not even a Russian word, but…
I froze in place, turning a puzzled gaze to the hovering Melia before me.
How did she say it? "Potentially the city can be saved"? "Potential benefit from preserving Atlantis"?
When hints weren't enough, she switched to almost overt clues.
"Potential, you say?" I squinted, asking. "I won't argue, the city has potential. And I amount to something. But if I weren't alone here, but, say, had a whole potential brotherhood ready to preserve my secrets and capabilities even at the cost of their lives… This castle would have stood another ten thousand years."
Melia opened her mouth to say something in response, but froze. Blinking a couple times, the Ascended smiled timidly and nodded to me almost imperceptibly. She showed she understood what I understood from her hints.
Potential answers, that is, not hints.
The hint was more than transparent, and if not for my thoughts circling around energy problems and ZPMs, I'd never have gotten it. Seems the Lantean understood that and hinted as much as she could. Then, seeing I didn't get it, she deliberately distorted the word to trigger an associative chain.
"You understood correctly," she said. "Save Atlantis, and any endeavor of yours will succeed. The city…"
"… has great potential," I finished for her, smiling from ear to ear. Well, of course, what an idiot I am.
There's a chance to save the city. Moreover, the answer lay practically on the surface. And if I hadn't been so busy with reflection — I'd have thought of it long ago.
"You're thinking correctly," as if reading my mind, the Ancient pronounced. "I'm glad you understood the full significance of our legacy and the threat emanating from the unknown enemy in the Milky Way. I hope you're willing to undertake the mission you took on?"
Something tells me the bargaining time is over.
But the ultimatum time hasn't passed.
"Agreed," I assured. "But there are a few conditions."
The smile vanished from Melia's face as soon as she heard the first one.
But neither she nor her comrades had the option to refuse.
***
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