When the horizontal bars of the door slid into place, forming a single structure with the walls, the greenish force field restored itself with a slight crackle. As it always had until now.
"This place doesn't seem suitable for important negotiations," Koschei said irritably, looking around.
"I'm sorry, but there's a shortage of five-star hotel rooms right now," I said. "It's the season. The rich booked all the suites six months before check-in. Didn't your tour operator warn you about this?"
"Are you having fun?" Koschei asked, baring his teeth. "Do you think you've just swapped one cell for another, and that something has changed?"
"To be fair, your previous cell didn't have a bed," I nodded towards the mattress lying on the floor behind the Wraith.
"Funny," but you couldn't tell from his voice.
"You offered me friendship along with valuable information, and I remembered that friends shouldn't sleep on a bare floor. However," I emphasized the last word, "liars face a worse fate than this."
"And you are cunning, Mikhail," I heard... approval in the Wraith's voice?! Brrr, it sent a shiver down my spine. "He who is praised by the enemy, there is clearly no profit in him." It's hurtful when an enemy praises you, but Ivan Alekseevich is right. "First you made me revive two more for you, then you threw me back into prison."
"On the other hand, I could have thrown you off the roof onto the pier."
"And who would revive your people?" Koschei asked.
"And didn't you notice anything familiar at your last meal?" I asked, sitting down on the chair Kirik offered. "If not, then I'll give you a hint. Pale skin, long white hair, nostrils on your cheeks..."
"Nostrils," bitterness and disgust sounded in Koschei's smirk. He ran his middle fingers of both hands over the stretched, teardrop-shaped folds of skin, resembling poorly healed surgical scars. Larger ones closer to the bridge of the nose, they curved in an arc and thinned towards the middle of the cheek, eventually just merging with the skin. "These are sensory slits, Mikhail. Thanks to them, we surpass humans in tracking prey..."
"And we invented a farm," I parried. Kirik, standing nearby and propping the door leading to the cell with his shoulder, silently watched the Wraith, simultaneously slicing thin slices from a fruit with a knife. It has different names on dozens of planets, and different varieties too. But it most resembled a very juicy apple. The size of a kitten's head. Funny fact – the larger this fruit, the brighter its skin color, the more sour it is. "So, you decided to waste my time. Fine, we'll write that on your tombstone – he was shot trying to rape my brain. Aren't you ashamed, Koschei? I can see from your eyes that you're not ashamed."
Kirik twirled the knife in his hand, not taking his eyes off the Wraith.
A half-smile appeared on Koschei's face. Combined with his arrogant gaze, the Wraith's face practically begged for an encounter with something heavy.
"And after you kill me, you'll find another Wraith and make him do my job," he savored every word, looking at me with incomprehensible superiority.
Mikhail, having improved his health, in the Atlantis prison.
It seems this guy has clearly gotten a big head, considering he thinks he can behave like this.
"Just don't knock out my brains," I got up from the chair and went to the exit. "Selisa wanted to conduct a couple of tests with the biochemistry inside the Wraith's skull. I think the hour has come, and it's time to help her broaden the horizons of her knowledge. I hope," I looked at Koschei through the bars, "you're not allergic to a scalpel in the soft meninges?"
The Wraith grinned. What emotion he meant this time, I never understood.
"Before you threaten me, you should have studied at least one of the current Wraiths," he threw at my back as I raised my leg to leave the prison room. "None of them will help you."
So, here the interesting part begins.
We quickly passed the stages of anger and denial. Did the bargaining start? I wonder, do Wraiths even get depressed, or do they immediately move on to acceptance? Curious.
"Details," I demanded, returning to the cell.
"The Wraiths I fed on are weaker than me," Koschei even straightened up. "They are younger and not as strong. None of those whose lives I consumed can revive even one Ancient."
"According to you," I smirked.
"You can check," Koschei grinned. "Reverse feeding requires extreme concentration when transferring life force. If you haven't given me the weakest of my people to feed on, then you clearly shouldn't change the life donor for your people."
But for some reason, I remember that a Wraith named Todd easily revived one of the expedition members who had the strongest Ancient gene in the galaxy. At a rough estimate, at least one other nameless Wraith fed first, and then brought Larren back to life during the situation with the discovery of the 'Ares' in the events I know.
And I don't recall those two struggling much when reviving people. And Koschei himself doesn't spend much time; his behavior and facial expressions usually don't show that he's suffering or extremely concentrated. Perhaps he himself isn't as strong in the necessary matters as I thought? Maybe the Wraiths only practiced the reverse feeding technology for ten thousand years, and it wasn't developed.
And over ten thousand years, they managed to achieve more? I need to think about it. I wouldn't be surprised at all if I was wrong in my judgment "the older the Wraith, the better it revives."
It seems to me, based on the example of Ancient technologies and the current level of human development in both lives, that things were better before. And in my favorite fantasy, such a plot is quite common.
But what if it's not like that with Wraiths?
I didn't think about that beforehand. It's worth checking.
"If that's all, I won't believe you," I said, feigning boredom on my face, and asked Kirik:
"Do you believe him?"
"No," he replied. "While I was a 'fugitive,' I heard about people who received what is called the 'gift of life' from Wraiths. Based on the description, I think this is exactly what this pale-skinned one does. So he's lying."
"I agree with you. Koschei, I'm afraid we'll have to return the mattress."
"If the people to whom my brethren have granted reverse feeding are not Ancients, then you don't understand the difference," the Wraith said irritably. "An Ancient differs from the people I fed on at your behest as much as you, Mikhail, differ from this," he gave Kirik a contemptuous look, "human. In fact, you are a living example of what I'm talking about. To bring him back to life," he nodded again towards the former 'fugitive', "wouldn't have required as much energy as reviving an Ancient."
"So, young Wraiths just need to be well-fed."
"It's not just about the amount of life energy," Koschei snapped. "They are weaker. Simpler. They can't hold much life energy within themselves like I can. You'll have to feed the young Wraith first, then let him release the energy into the Ancient, then feed him again. And so on several times. I'm not even talking about mental control of energy transfer."
"Well, let's say you're telling the truth."
"I'm not lying to you, human," the Wraith grinned.
"Oh, really? Do you know the logic puzzle about a person who always tells the truth and another who always lies."
"No," Koschei looked at me with interest. "Humans always lie."
"Well, then," I ignored his last remark. "Take one inveterate liar and another, a truth-teller to the bone. Ask them to tell a story, and then ask: 'Are you lying to me?' Guess what each of them will answer?"
"Both will say they are not lying to you," it took Koschei a couple of seconds to understand. At the time, I only understood after the person who told me this logic problem explained the answer.
"Exactly, Koschei. Therefore, I think you understand that there is no faith in your words."
"He's just trying to increase his importance in our eyes," Kirik yawned. "He tells us almost nothing about Wraiths and their technologies, society, and culture. Nothing useful about tactics, strategy, their bases."
"You can think whatever you want, human," Koschei snorted contemptuously, looking at me. "But you don't decide whether I live or die."
"And with your tales, you're increasingly tipping the scales in favor of lying down and resting on the dissection table," I warned. "If what I've heard is all you wanted and could tell, then congratulations: you've just wasted my time. In vain."
Should I be angry in this situation?
If he lied and modern Wraiths are indeed not entirely suitable for our purposes, then the information is worth the time spent. Again, if he just told the truth and modern Wraiths are weaker than ten thousand years ago. However, I think not all of them are like that.
Clearly, there are guys who are older, stronger, more experienced than the 'youth'. But it's not written on their faces...
I froze, examining the Wraith's face.
Pale green.
And the Wraiths we captured had pale blue faces.
Different subspecies, like dark-skinned and light-skinned humans? Or does the skin tone indicate the 'age' of the Wraiths?
An interesting theory, I'll have to look into it.
"So you're leaving?" Koschei threw at my back again.
"If I could walk on my hands or do the moonwalk, I would leave on my hands or in the style of Michael Jackson," I said.
"And you won't even ask what I learned from the minds of those Wraiths I fed on?" Koschei added intrigue to his voice. "Is it easier for you to settle for little and leave, making a few jokes that only you understand?"
"I don't have time to chat with you for days," I admitted. "You see, there are so many Wraiths in the galaxy who would like to feed on Ancients. And they flock to the transmitter you developed like flies to honey."
"This time you were just lucky that Wraiths from a hive that is still dormant came for you," Koschei said. "A weak and heavily damaged hive ship. I think if you attacked them with your ship, you would have destroyed them."
"And now you don't mind letting your brethren die?" Kirik smirked. "I don't believe you, Wraith."
"Just as I don't believe you, humans," Koschei retorted. "But I'm offering a good deal."
"I haven't heard anything good in this yet," I admitted. "And besides, apart from reviving Ancients, you're not very useful. And you yourself said that other Wraiths can do your job no worse than you. Only longer, more victims, and so on."
"More victims," the Wraith confirmed. "Much more. I have an approximate idea of how many frozen crew members of that ship you have. And I know how many victims will be needed for my feeding to revive them. Even more if you ask another Wraith."
"Ask?" Kirik and I exchanged glances. "Koschei, you've chosen the wrong time to test the limits of my patience."
"I've already given you a down payment of information, human," Koschei snorted. "Now I'm waiting for an offer."
"I can offer you to lie in a stasis chamber until we need you," I voiced the idea. "There will be no need to spend energy on your maintenance. Energy in all senses."
"You want to dictate an ultimatum to me," the Wraith growled. "When I can give you the coordinates of a world, on whose orbit is not some cruiser, but a whole hive ship!"
"That's the whole problem," I smirked. "And why do I need a hive ship? I don't have that many people with Wraith genes to control it."
"And I'm not suggesting you control it," the Wraith said irritably. "I want you to give this hive to me. And let me go. In return, I promise you that on mutually beneficial terms, I will continue to restore your people."
Now that's a demand.
"Shall I just cut off a couple of his fingers to bring him to his senses?" Kirik suggested. "He's talking nonsense."
"I don't think so," I squinted, examining the Wraith. "This bastard knows something that makes him set conditions for us. And that's interesting. What's the matter, Koschei? Bored in our company? Or," I said slowly, struck by a realization. "Are you afraid of something?"
The Wraith growled quite loudly, baring his teeth. And he began to pace around the cell.
"It seems I'm right," he looked at me. "While you were feeding on other Wraiths, you connected with them mentally. And, since they are weaker than you, you could easily learn something extremely useful for yourself from them. Something about what's happening among the Wraiths."
"Deal!" the Wraith growled. "I'll tell you everything I know, but in parts. You capture the hive for me and let me go. We'll agree on where we'll meet so I can revive your people..."
"There's an expression: 'Boldness is the second happiness'," I said. "But in your case, boldness is the path to a very long diet."
"Or to death."
"If I die, you die too," Koschei assured.
"There are reasons to believe that won't happen," I said.
The Wraith suddenly laughed.
"Are you hoping for your shields and the fact that the ocean will protect you?" he asked. "Maybe. It helped the Ancients hide. However, very soon everything will go off plan. More precisely – not according to your plan. You can't hide anymore, human."
"Words, words, words," I sighed. "Alright, gather your thoughts, and then we'll think."
"Annoying guy," Kirik said. "He's gotten too big for his britches lately."
Indeed, it was as if Koschei had been replaced. But that only happened after he was fed raifs. The question is, what did he learn?
For now, there's a chance he'll tell us everything himself. Though, I'm increasingly leaning towards him bluffing.
But he's not foolish enough to expose himself like that.
It seems I'll have to use Teila... And I really don't want to. Not at all.
"I'll talk to Chayaya and Selise," I told Kirik. "Let them figure out how to make our chatterbox very, very hurt."
"Super-hive," Koschei said, stopping in the middle of the cell. "There's a super-hive in the galaxy."
"That's not news," I shrugged. "In the 'Auroras' mission, we encountered an entire fleet of raifs. And we destroyed three cruisers, a bunch of 'arrows,' and damaged a hive ship. And a super-hive was rushing towards us. You had several of those ten thousand years ago. And, as far as we know, almost all of them were destroyed."
"At the cost of colossal sacrifices on your part," Koschei said. "Because the super-hives were powered by an ancient energy device that you call ZPM. Thanks to them, our ships became stronger and could easily withstand an entire fleet of your battleships."
"Except I doubt the queen flying a super-hive ten thousand years ago still has a charge in the ZPM," I said.
"It's not a queen flying the super-hive," Koschei said. "The raifs call him the Scavenger. A smart one who became the commander of the super-hive."
"A smart one?"
"That's what we call our scientists," the raif explained, nodding at Kirik. "He would have been a blade in our society. A soldier, to speak in your language."
"In your society, I would have become prey," the former 'fugitive' retorted.
"Let's say," I began to lose patience. "How are all these mosaic pieces you've told us connected?"
"You're truly smart to have understood that my words are part of a whole," Koschei nodded.
"Really?" Kirik was surprised. "I thought he was just throwing us scraps of scattered information so we'd fall for something."
Maybe so.
But Koschei isn't a fool and understands that this childish trick won't work. Instead, he's trying to intrigue us with a story, presenting it from different ends. Precisely to see what concerns us most – the damaged hive ship, the super-hive, the weakened raifs… The life-sucker is studying our priorities!
Clever.
If I were to start questioning him in detail about any of the listed items, he would draw the appropriate conclusions. And he would adjust his story to provide the necessary minimum, hiding as many details as possible.
Expecting frankness from a raif is a foolish endeavor.
He's looking for an advantage.
"That's why you are a blade, and he," Koschei looked at me with a hint of something resembling minimal respect, "is the consort of your queen."
"Queen?" Kirik shot me a scrutinizing glance. But he received no reaction. "What are you even talking about, pale-face?"
"The main thing is that the consort understood me," Koschei looked me straight in the eyes. "It's important for raifs to be connected to their queens. It's important to receive their favor, to know that they are not alone. Once upon a time, we were weak and scared. But the first queens were able to calm their future commanders and gave us faith in victory over the enemy. You killed my queen… And the queen of the one who commands the super-hive."
Let's assume. Except Death has long been considered dead.
"Closer to the point, Koschei."
"A damaged hive is also without a queen," the raif said. "She died, and recently. They are severely damaged and had to flee their feeding grounds. They have already begun to call for help from other hives to report the Scavenger's actions."
"Some kind of mess," Kirik grimaced. "He's just telling us random things. I've never seen a confused raif before…"
Koschei growled irritably and began pacing his prison. It seemed he really disliked what the former 'fugitive' was saying. But not because his words offended the raif.
The reason is different.
And, it seems, I understood what it was.
"Leave," I asked Kirik. "Koschei is embarrassed by you."
"As you wish," the former 'fugitive' shrugged. He generally didn't argue. "If anything, I'll be outside the door."
"No," I shook my head, lowering my voice to a barely audible whisper. "Go to the control room and contact the duty officer. Have them summon the senior officers of the Council Chamber in an hour. Also, I want to know who visited him, besides me."
"You think there's a traitor among us?" Kirik became alert.
"Not exactly," I said, looking at the raif. "I think someone among us is just too talkative. And we need to figure out who exactly."
"I'll do it," Kirik said seriously, leaving the room.
When the door closed behind him, I placed a chair backward and sat on it cowboy-style.
Koschei, seeing that we were alone, stopped pacing and looked me in the eyes. We played a staring contest for a couple of minutes, after which he, smirking, dropped:
"It was high time to kick this human out. His mind is too weak to see the whole picture."
"Let's leave Kirik alone," I demanded. "And now stop fidgeting, Koschei. And tell me who and why you're afraid of."
The raif bared his teeth.
"You should be afraid of him too, Mikhail. His name is Styx. And he was the consort of the Queen of Death."