I opened my eyes with a guttural cry of unbearable pain that pierced every cell of my body. The same darkness was still all around, but now I felt I was lying on something absolutely freezing.
And in the process of waking up, I jerked, fell off from somewhere, but, thank God, managed to throw my hands out in front of me. Otherwise, I would have smashed my face on… on something hard. And just as freezing, chilling everything—my palms, feet, torso, backside…
Jumping to my feet, I hugged myself with my arms, trying to warm up at least a little and understand what was happening. My hand habitually brushed over an old scar on my forearm… Wait a minute!
"Well, well," I muttered, running my fingers over the mark of an injury from the distant past. "Is this how it's supposed to be?"
It seemed the Voice wasn't planning to answer me. Or help me. Fine, I agreed myself, no point in hoping for others.
True, right now I really wanted to know what exactly I had signed up for. I hope it's not for running around naked in the cold, vast expanses. On the other hand, if the Voice fulfilled its part of the deal… what difference does it make?
Complete darkness reigned around me, through which absolutely nothing was visible—you couldn't see a hand in front of your face.
And silence. Not a rustle, not a creak, not a breath of wind.
But there was also the cold. Bitter, brutal. It was felt by every cell of my body—my teeth reacted especially characteristically, finding it very hard to touch each other. The feeling was like being in a huge freezer—and the steam bursting from my mouth with every exhalation only completed the picture.
Standing still without moving was pointless. That's how you get sick. And given the ambiguity of the situation, the idea of catching a cold god knows where wasn't the most pleasant.
"Hello?" I felt something oblong and metallic in front of me with my hands. A table, it seemed. I'd bet that's what I'd fallen off of. "Anyone here?"
My eyes were gradually getting used to the new sensations, and the outlines of the surrounding objects began to emerge from the darkness. On the one hand, it felt a little better when I realized I wasn't naked in an open field. On the other hand… I really didn't like cold, dark rooms.
From what I could see, it was definitely a small room with fairly high ceilings. Several pieces of furniture placed on the floor. And not the slightest hint of lighting. Or of whoever might have brought me here. Well, he didn't promise anything. No help, no advice… Just that I would end up in a familiar place.
And a pile of problems on top.
Life had beaten me up plenty of times, but I didn't remember any places like this from my past. Or looking this good physically. Probably back in my youth, during sports. After that… there was no time for it.
"Fucking jokes," the cursing seemed to give me strength.
What was that eternal Russian question? "What is to be done?" That's what I'd like to know. But let's add the questions "Where am I?" and "What's happening?" They could have given me some briefing, instead of throwing me straight into the deep end and hoping I'd swim out.
Or is this a twisted sense of humor from those fluff-like entities?
Alright, Mikha, let sleeping dogs lie. But I can't see jack… Nothing, basically.
So, how do blind people walk around here? Slowly, step by step, step by step, oh, your damn mandolin, it's so cold! Hope I don't freeze my tail off, a sniffly nose in a dark room is no fun.
Alright, let's hope everything went according to plan. And I really don't want to think about whose plan it was.
From memory, I started doing some exercise sets to warm up my muscles and at least try to get warm. But it led to completely unexpected results.
No, it did get warmer. And brighter.
The pitch-black darkness began to slowly dissipate. The cause was numerous lamps scattered around the corners of the room. Somewhat similar to vertical pillars with a thickening in the middle, they had many glass bulbs arranged in a row above each other.
Hmm, something familiar.
Like the uniformly rust-colored walls, with geometric figures over the paint. Elements of swamp-green paint also evoked a feeling of déjà vu. Something was spinning in my memory… Like knowing a word but not remembering how it's pronounced…
The ceiling, the walls—they seemed to radiate light from dozens of lighting fixtures of the most diverse shapes. As if sparing my eyes, the sunny-yellow light wasn't in a hurry to fill the entire room at once. Instead, its intensity increased with every second.
For a moment, I had to squint to let my pupils adjust to the change in illumination. Covering my face with my palms, I stood in the cold, trembling like an autumn leaf in the wind. And only after I realized that the light was penetrating even through my closed eyelids and the fingers of my palms, I slowly opened them, looking around.
"Well, that's something new," I muttered, looking around. The temperature in the room had noticeably risen—although it was still cold, I could feel the light warming my body. Like the sun's rays on a clear summer day. Seems like the local builders weren't very familiar with energy-saving lamp technology…
It was bright enough to look around and examine every detail. Still cold, but I have no one to answer to… Looks like I'm completely alone here.
Except for a couple of oval panels, whose pedestals, with stern strokes of a perfectionist, reminded me of the laws of geometry. The backlighting of the indicators on the panels, done in a lifeless white light, flooded unfamiliar control instruments. Glass, plastic buttons, tiny regulators, more glass… hmm… things…
"Oh, I don't like this at all," I grumbled, no longer doubting what was happening.
No need to rub my eyes or pinch myself—this setting was very familiar to me. It seems I misunderstood the Voice. Yes, he sent me to a familiar place. But in my past life, I had never personally been here.
I'd only seen something like it on a TV screen or laptop, watching an old (twenty years since the Arrival.)
series about another adventure of Americans in the vast Universe, in the name of all that is good against all that is evil.
After thinking for a couple of seconds, I slapped myself across the face with an open hand. It hurt. So, I wasn't asleep.
"We had a fine time and were amazed," I muttered. "Sobered up and cried. There was no mermaid, but I'm ashamed before the catfish… Deeeals…"
I was standing in the middle of an Ancient laboratory—the characteristic geometric pattern of the interior, the familiar control panels. Even the pattern on the floor—it all pointed to only one place where I could be.
Atlantis. No, that's crazy! Crazy!
"I hope this is a very, very bad dream," I muttered, approaching one of the panels. A multitude of buttons, tiny touchscreens, regulators, miniature switches… "Fine, I'll settle for some potent deathbed hallucinations."
Another possibility remained—that it was cold here because this wasn't the lost city of the Ancients in the Pegasus galaxy, but an outpost of the same race, but on Mother Earth, in Antarctica… That version would explain the cold. Besides, the series didn't detail what else was there besides a few locations. Obviously, sets are expensive, but… That was the series!
No, seriously, this isn't a joke⁈
Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed that some sections of the surrounding walls had started moving. It took a few seconds—and monitors came to life in front of me, continuously covering themselves with the characteristic squiggles of the Ancient language.
What the hell is happening⁈ The complex, whatever it was, was reacting to my movements? That's why more and more equipment was turning on? Wait, did the Ancient technology react like that in the series? I think so, to all people… Something like that.
Taking a step back, I pressed the lower part of my back against the edge of an Ancient laboratory table, the center of which—a snow-white surface with quirks of geometric shapes—I really didn't like. And it wasn't even that the device looked like the lab glass onto which experimental biologists smear the substance they're studying.
It was that this thing… It's hard to even describe… At the base, something like a truncated polygonal pyramid, the surface… To hell with it! What the fuck is going on here⁈
I might not have watched anything from this universe for a while, but I remember perfectly well that a "classic Transmigrator" doesn't exist there. And here… I'm clearly in my own body, but a very well-developed one. And at my age? With a desk job?
I rushed to the nearest dark screen on the wall. No, not to figure out the Ancient symbols flashing on the matrix. I basically don't know how these symbols are translated or decoded. I recall there was even a translator on fan sites, written by some hardcore fan, but… No, seriously, learn a fictional language?
I'm afraid that's for Tolkienists. Or Klingon fans. Or whoever.
In the monitor, I was only interested in one of its properties—the reflective surface. Roughly, I could make out my appearance in it. No, really, it was me! A simple Slavic face with slightly prominent cheekbones and deep-set eyes, a high forehead, short-cropped hair… I hadn't looked this good since the army!
"Brave, new world," I muttered.
So.
I'm somewhere on territory developed by the Ancients—not necessarily Atlantis or an Ancient outpost. Those are just the very first associations that come to mind.
I'm in a young and strong body, and most importantly, my own body.
And… Now I need to figure out when in the timeline of this universe I ended up. The very fact that I ended up in the fictional TV, book, and comic universe of Stargate has to be accepted as fact. Of course, there's still the possibility that it's all a cruel joke or the delirium of a dying man, but…
Marina… If the Voice kept its word, if she's alive and her life has become happy, is there any point in dwelling on it? No, of course not. I agreed "sight unseen" myself. So, away with the soul-searching, let's start figuring things out.
First—I need clothes, otherwise I'll freeze to death here.
Then—reconnoiter the area and understand exactly where I've ended up.
Third—understand not only where I am, but when. And in which, for fuck's sake, galaxy. Because if I got dropped into some Ori galaxy…
Hmm… It would also be nice to know if I have any Ancient perks, like their gene that allows controlling their complex technology, or telekinesis, or…
Wait, stop. Calm, only calm.
The answers to the questions can wait for the urgent tasks. Clothes, reconnaissance, getting answers…
Ah, to hell with it!
Seeing some sort of thing sitting on the console that wasn't part of it, I reached out my hand, concentrated as hard as I could, sending my desire to the universe to pull that piece of glass toward me… No, it didn't work.
Alright, I never lived as a Jedi, so no point starting now. Time to search this little room; maybe there's something useful here.
Already in the process of scouring the corners, carefully avoiding everything that looked like an Ancient device, I caught myself thinking that there were a few more versions of what was happening to me. I dismissed them immediately, since I could feel the cold, and I seemed to be hungry…
But that laboratory table… It ruined the whole picture.
The thing is, that type of setup was used in the series to create replicators in the Pegasus galaxy. And those guys are humanoid machines made of nano-robots, nanites. With a full set of abilities from a crazy Skynet—the desire to kill their creators, the ability to program machines with a single touch, walking through walls…
Maybe I'm a replicator?
That would explain a lot…
Although, who am I kidding, what would it explain? How would I even check? Look, I slapped myself, felt pain. And when I woke up, it hurt too. So, conditionally speaking, I'm still human. Who would program a robot to have human feelings?
No, of course, I could arrange a radical test to be sure… Replicators don't bleed, and wounds in humanoid form, or organic form with nanites inside, heal faster than on a dog. But enough of this stupid nonsense! Should I cut myself with some old piece of metal I find lying around, just to see if I bleed? To hell with those thoughts!
It seemed like my head was starting to burn from an excess of emotions. Too many questions, too few answers. I can't afford to ponder questions that don't relate to my current situation. Globally, right now, undressed and unarmed, without understanding what's happening around me, I can't change anything in my fate.
And if, when I woke up, there was no one here, no one came to my screams (and detecting a stranger on their territory in an Ancient lair is the easiest thing in the world), then I should think less and do more. Either I'm completely alone in the area, or someone might come for me soon. From the darkness and the equipment turning on, it's clear that this laboratory-room-compartment, or whatever it is, wasn't currently being used by the owners of… wherever I was. Hmm… Maybe I'm in the part of the city that the expedition from Earth hasn't found or searched yet? That would be a laugh…
Or, I might not be with the Ancients at all, but with the Asurans, those same replicators from the Pegasus galaxy. And they don't particularly like humans. And, at certain periods, they simply hate them. So…
I slapped myself across the face again. It worked like a shot to the temple—all thoughts completely vanished from my head.
Alright, enough! It's time to stop this bargaining with myself. Saving the drowning man is the drowning man's own business. And I'm the only one sinking into the abyss of the unknown here.
Rubbing my palms together more to occupy my head with some kind of action than with crazy ideas from the "what if⁈" series, I suddenly realized that it wasn't exactly cold around me. Sure, the floor was icy and my feet were freezing, but the air… Not exactly the Sahara at noon, but the steam had stopped coming from my mouth.
So, whatever this place was, it was adjusting to comfortable conditions for me. Life support system, I think that's what such a thing was called. Good. Now if only some six-legged metal spider would bring me food and drink… No, to hell with all those metal spiders. Seeing a creature like that in this universe is a sure way to die.
Finishing my inspection of the room, I realized the entrance, which was also the exit, was the only one here. And to the side of the door plate, three vertically arranged crystals were glowing with a bluish light. If I run my hand over them, the automatic system should trigger and… Something would happen.
Good, but that's for later.
To start with, having found nothing lying freely on the floor or the instruments, I concluded that the walls had something like cabinets with small windows. There was something inside them. But I'd better not poke around in there yet—what if some alarm goes off?
Scanning the room with my eyes, I stopped in front of one of the monitors, which, unlike the others, remained unactivated. A black screen, without the slightest sign of text, diagrams, desktop backgrounds… Non-functioning equipment?
Except… there was something wrong with that monitor. Or rather, the opposite. It was perfectly correct in shape—an elongated vertical rectangle. And, if you looked at the other screens, they were in the shape of hypertrophically fractured parallelepipeds, rhombuses, squares, with beveled corners…
And this one had a familiar shape… Hmm… This b-b-buzz was not without reason.
A serene black void, in whose reflection I could see my own face. Without any doubt, it was my face. And my body. If the Voice created me like this here, then… I suppose he's one of the Ancients. More precisely, from that part of them that Ascended—discarded human bodies and became pure energy.
Just one doubt—the Ascended don't interfere with humans. In their plane of existence, they have a set of rules about what can and cannot be done. And such stunts… I doubt they are among the permitted ones.
Alright, all that later. But the thought that I'd spoken with an Ancient and he'd arranged this tour into the unknown for me wasn't reassuring. As far as I remember, the Ascended only interfere directly in human affairs when there is no other choice but the advent of total Armageddon.
A shiver ran down my spine.
Something was definitely going on here! Not that I'm terribly upset—I agreed myself, after all—but still! I could really use a "briefing"! I really could!
Looking at my reflection, I noticed that something was happening on the screen meanwhile. A flash of light in the pile of darkness to the right of where I was, illuminated a small area around itself for an instant and immediately disappeared, giving birth to a huge bubble of air rising upward. Through the thickness of water.
In that instant the light flashed, I managed to make out in the distance, hundreds of meters from me, a multitude of tall structures of the most diverse shapes and configurations. Round towers, square towers, polygonal towers, leaning towers… arranged on a platform shaped like a "snowflake." And I… I, it seemed, was in the part adjacent to the flooding one… part of… part of… Atlantis.
And right then, a wave of heat washed over me. This wasn't a monitor at all!
It was a window! A porthole, if you like. Especially considering that Atlantis is still a ship. It doesn't matter if it's a spaceship or a sea-going vessel. This city had served in both capacities. And that didn't make it any better—I had to accept on faith that I was somehow, really on Atlantis.
And what I was seeing now was clearly air escaping from a flooding room! The city was underwater! And it was sinking!
* * *
So, the answer to one question had already been obtained by process of elimination—I was most likely on Atlantis. Back when it was slowly sinking to the ocean floor on an oceanic planet in the Pegasus galaxy.
And… There were two pieces of news here. I wouldn't say either of them was clearly positive.
From memory, I could only recall one episode in the series when the expedition members saw something similar—a flash of light outside a window-porthole and bubbles of escaping air.
The very first, goddammit! The very beginning of the Atlantis story! The arrival of the expedition in the city!
The flash of light, the bubble of air—those were the consequences of the shield holding back millions of tons of water failing. Because there was no energy—the city's "batteries" had discharged over the time it had been here.
There were two probabilities for how events could play out.
Probability one — what happened before the time jumps interfered and one overzealous Ancient lent a hand. The city drained its energy reserves and sank. Every member of the expedition drowned. Finita la commedia.
Probability two. Same thing, except at the last moment the heroes used the conveniently provided "crutch" a time machine — went back to the past, found a helpful Ancient among those still living in the city, and he helped them save it. And at the moment when the expedition arrived, when the shield had discharged and everyone was getting ready to die, the engines kicked in, pushing the city to the surface. Without power, without protection, Atlantis survived. And was barely damaged.
And I don't like either option. Dying would be stupid after getting a chance at a new life in a city built by people who evolved hundreds of millions of years before Homo Sapiens appeared. Though those very first people, the Ancients, are themselves the creators of Homo…
Pressing my face to the window, I tried to make out any hints of human presence in the darkness of the structures. In those first moments, the expedition members had occupied quite a large area inside the central spire, which triggered many systems to activate automatically — including those in the central spire. I seemed to be on one of the piers, since I could make out the massive bulk of the city's main building in the darkness off to one side. And in that enormous structure, not a single window was lit — which is physically impossible if anyone were inside. If anyone were even in the city at all.
I have a suspicion that the absence of even the faintest illumination across the entire city is proof that the energy sources powering Atlantis are nearly exhausted. If the power gauge hits zero… Honestly, I don't want to test that.
I need to get out of here. If things are as bad as I think, I need to reach the central spire — the tallest building in the city — as fast as possible and use a jumper. A jumper is a small ship designed for… Well, designed for a lot of things. But the main thing is, it can fly through a Stargate. And a Stargate is this big thing that…
To hell with it!
One thing at a time!
The inevitable has already happened — I'm in deep shit. And the sooner I find a way out, the better.
For some reason, the Voice's words came back to me — that "the others" hadn't been as accommodating as I was. Maybe there are others like me here. "Summoned losers" who'd exhausted everyone to the point of bloody tears. But given the silence and darkness of the city, I have my doubts…
Alright, my head's working, my hands are working.
Turning to the lockers I'd spotted earlier, I started looting. Even if there's an alarm here, I honestly wouldn't mind if someone came to help me. In a situation like this, I don't even care who it is.
There were three of them. And without tormenting myself with pangs of conscience about possibly digging through dead men's belongings, I began inspecting the shelves.
The search took about ten minutes, and I piled everything I found onto the surface of the lab table where I'd woken up.
My first prize was clothes and shoes. Comfortable mid-calf boots with… not laces, not a zipper, not Velcro… Something like self-tightening adjusters. Smacks of "Back to the Future". Fine, not my place to choose.
A milk-white uniform with gray and brown accents, resembling a military tunic — trousers, underwear, a jacket, a short-sleeved T-shirt. If the Ancients use the same approach to button placement on clothing, then I got the men's version. The lack of tailoring at the waist is encouraging.
Looks like there is justice in the universe after all.
Good, I have clothes and shoes. Hmm, even something like socks. They look like stretched-out football socks, but just like with the underwear, the moment I put them on, they hug my figure perfectly.
Comfortable.
As a bonus, I got a belt with a thigh holster and attachment straps. Fits me, I'll take it. Ideally, I'd like to push my luck and find a weapon too.
This is the — men's, of course — uniform I'm talking about. A screenshot from the series "Stargate: Atlantis".
My other acquisition was a spacious backpack made of soft but extremely dense material. It really does look like a backpack — two straps, a handle for carrying… Except instead of the usual zipper, it has a magnetic seal.
The exterior, shiny in the light, felt like plastic, but I'd bet my hand it's tougher than it looks. My memory helpfully supplied that such backpacks appeared in the series — during the evacuation of the city, some Ancients left through the gate carrying them. And there's probably something interesting inside. Like an experienced scavenger, I didn't keep myself waiting, immediately examining the contents of my find.
Looking at nearly a hundred small bricks, the size of a chocolate bar, wrapped in a transparent material resembling plastic, I didn't waste long wondering about the purpose of these appetizing-looking items. Quickly tearing the wrapper off one, I took a small bite. In small doses I won't get poisoned, and if it's nasty, I'll get rid of it.
Of course, knowing the Ancients, they might store rat poison like this too… But somehow I doubt it.
Well, it's somewhere between children's modeling clay and a hematogen bar. Not tasty, but it killed the hunger. After waiting a few minutes to see if what I swallowed would trigger any gag reflexes or other bodily reactions, I practically chewed and swallowed three more. The Ancients built ships and devices that lasted at least tens of thousands of years. Let's hope their food has a similar shelf life. My stomach accepted the product kindly, and once I felt full, I moved on to searching the last locker.
Unlike the other two, this one was divided into two sections by a horizontal shelf. On the top, I found something that instilled confidence in my future. Though, who among us knows what tomorrow's bottom will look like.
Still, a futuristic-looking energy pistol can't help but please. I remember humanoid replicators had these…
God, I watched this series twenty years ago! Yes, I rewatched the most interesting episodes a couple of times, but how can I possibly remember this after so long? I had more important things in life to focus on than this… Marina, family, work, friends… Achievements and failures…
But I remember them somehow vaguely, as if it was so long ago… I don't like this. But there's no time to dig into myself right now — I'll figure it out when I'm safe.
If I ever am, that is.
An energy pistol.
The weapon's layout is a bit… unusual, and all these crystals instead of a barrel… Fine, those are details and a matter of habit. What matters most is that on the weapon, where a firearm would have a slide and chamber, there's a scale with square indicators. And this scale, just like the crystal-barrel, isn't lit. Whether I hold it or not.
Broken? Discharged?
The pistol fit comfortably in my hand, and the soft trigger practically dared my finger to squeeze it. But I had no plans to start shooting indoors. So the weapon went into the thigh holster and settled there cozily.
I'm not complaining, but this is starting to get scary. It all fits together too perfectly. Or is it just my shock making me look for a black cat in a black room?
The question that briefly flashed — where does this thing get its power? — resolved itself. The holster had several small pockets containing a pair of tiny — the size of a pinky phalanx — blue crystals in the shape of tiny octagonal prisms.
And at the butt of the pistol, I saw just such a slot… Coincidence? I think not.
I slid the crystal into place and grunted with satisfaction — the weapon let out a pleasant sound, and the appropriate elements lit up. Once again, I fought down the urge to test-fire it. I stopped myself only with the thought that the consequences definitely might not please me.
My last find was a device that the series called a "life sign detector." A small unit in a semi-transparent white casing that resembled silicone, with a full-edge touchscreen and a few buttons on the lower part of the body. It looked like a grotesque PDA because of its shape and size. But it's actually a highly advanced compact computer. I remember they used it to search for life signs, radiation, energy sources… A useful gadget.
And it also has one unspoken function. Or rather, "it's not a feature, it's a bug." The thing is, the "life sign detector" is one of those complex Ancient devices that worked…
Another beep, barely visible to the eye, and the black screen came to life, displaying several schematic lines, partitions, and… a blinking white dot in the center.
One life sign.
Mine.
Without realizing it, I breathed a sigh of relief.
The scanner worked in the hands of those who had the Ancient Gene. Yes, humanity's ancestors protected their best devices from being used by enemies and other clumsy apes, configuring them so that only those with a certain genetic sequence — the Ancient Gene — could operate them. For everyone else, such gadgets were nothing more than a monument to another, more advanced civilization.
Though, this didn't always save them from the mischievous hands of the series' heroes.
This is what the "life sign detector" looks like — also known as the Ancient Scanner, also known as the Ancient PDA.
A picture from the series.
So, the dilemma about the gene was resolved in minutes.
Either I have the Ancient Gene, or this particular device works without it. Which I seriously doubt.
They say the universe has a principle of equilibrium — somewhere trouble awaits you, and somewhere pleasant surprises.
I hope my lucky streak isn't over. And I really don't want a black stripe to follow it, and then the end of the zebra…
So, without wasting a minute, I put on the uniform I'd found, secured the holster on my right thigh, slung the backpack over my shoulders, and, holding the "detector" in my left hand and the weapon in my right, headed for the exit.
A light swipe over the three vertically arranged crystals on the panel to the right of the door — and I was out in the corridor.
It stretched many meters to the right and left of me, but judging that the contours of the central spire I'd seen were to the right of my current location, I decisively headed in that direction.
Despite the clothes, which turned out to be fairly light but warm enough, the cold in the other rooms still made itself felt. Leaving a considerable distance behind me, wandering through corridors and levels, I felt that, contrary to the city's mechanisms coming to life as I approached — hidden in the depths of the walls, floor, and ceiling — my ears, fingers, and nose were still cold. The city was probably still "warming up," reacting to my appearance.
There's no point in sitting on my ass waiting to be rescued. I don't think the Voice sent me here for nothing — obviously there are some serious problems in the lost city of the Ancients. Any doubt that I'm on Atlantis? None. Any doubt that I'm alone in the city? Also none.
The detector's convenient interface, intuitive after a few trial and error attempts, helped me navigate. Besides detailed floor plans of the small area around me, I could change the zoom level with deft, characteristic two-finger swipes on the screen. And when I zoomed all the way out, I confirmed my theory: I'd woken up on one of the outer piers. More specifically, one of the "small" ones. They're "thinner" at the base than the "big" ones.
Plan of the city of Atlantis.
The PDA obediently displayed a city plan. But it was just a map, like a blueprint on paper. No interactivity. Or maybe I just don't know how to access that function.
That's not important right now — I need to get to the central spire to get answers to my other questions.
After covering a fair distance through corridors and stairways, I stopped to catch my breath by a large window. Strangely enough, it had gotten "brighter" outside. With the naked eye, I could see the outlines of dozens of buildings. Some — even in detail. Those closer were completely clear.
A view of Atlantis's buildings underwater. Roughly like this.
I ducked down and looked up through the window. As I'd assumed — through a considerable thickness of water, faint rays from the local sun fell onto the city… Mmm, no, not the sun — not a sun — but a star. That's more accurate.
Almost indistinguishable against the darkness of the ocean depths, somewhere up there, above the city's highest point, was the transparent film of the energy shield. The only thing separating the structure from thousands of tons of water and the destructive force that even the Ancients and their architectural wonders couldn't withstand. At least, in the series, they couldn't.
After all, the city is several million years old. And even though it's essentially a sealed spaceship, all it takes to completely flood it is a few breaches in one part, failed sensors blocking flooded compartments in another, doors not sealing tightly in a third…
I don't want to test my luck all the way to the bottom firsthand.
Thousands of questions are swirling in my head, but all of them can wait.
I'm on Atlantis.
In the Pegasus galaxy.
Something is happening here.
And the Voice decided I could help fix it. Or maybe I shouldn't flatter myself — I was simply "voluntold" as the most agreeable one. Though, I didn't play innocent for long myself. I had a chance to save my beloved — and I took it.
Do I regret it?
Not one bit.
If I had to, I'd do it again. And again, and again, and again.
This is roughly what Atlantis looks like underwater. A beautiful piece of art, but not quite right — there's no shield here.
Damn, my nerves are shot. I need to be calmer. Otherwise, I won't last as long as I want to.
Finishing my breather, I checked the PDA and jogged toward the city's transport booth.
Time to get to the central spire faster.
There's something there… someone… who can give me answers to my questions. At least I should try to ask them and show off my knowledge and hindsight. Or, in the end, I could just start threatening.