The already familiar — and frankly tiresome from its frequent appearances — panel beside the door glowed with a steady white light. The same three vertically arranged crystals… Funny. In my past life, door locks and handles didn't annoy me. But here and now… It's probably just nerves. I think if in my past life I'd had to open dozens of them, knowing that at any moment I could die in a not-so-pleasant way, I'd get pissed off at the sight of those damned locks and handles too.
At least I don't have to carry a bunch of keys for them… The Ancients made it simpler — just swipe your hand, and open sesame.
With a soft, melodic sound, the door panels slid apart, inviting me into a small room. Shaped like a prism with a truncated pyramid base, it reminded me somewhat of a well-known elevator.
With the sole exception that there was no elevator shaft at all. And it's not even that the floor is opaque to the eye, or that the walls around the cabin look like monolithic stone.
This "elevator" has no shaft whatsoever.
Because it's a transport system, but of a different order.
The Atlantis Transporter.
In the center of the wall opposite the transporter entrance, there was a screen that lit up welcomingly when I appeared. A simple line map of the city-ship caught my eye, with red dots already marked, scattered seemingly at random throughout the city.
But they weren't random.
I tapped the one at the very center of the structure — in the Central Spire — and heard the doors close behind me. I instinctively squeezed my eyes shut…
A flash of white light pierced through my eyelids, making me "see stars" for a moment. A wave of barely perceptible cold ran through my body. But the feeling of disorientation passed quickly.
Stepping out of the transporter booth, I smirked when I saw a completely different interior from the one I'd seen just a minute ago.
Which made sense, considering I'd moved hundreds of meters both "horizontally" and "vertically" in seconds. And instead of being on one of the outer piers, I was now in the very heart of the Ancients' pride.
The transporter is a local network of teleportation booths scattered throughout the city. Thanks to them, you don't have to waste time walking through dozens of floors across the complex, but can travel from "Point A" to "Point B" in the blink of an eye.
Yes, powering such a device requires energy, which is already in short supply. But, considering how much time and energy I'd waste trudging through empty corridors and floors of the city to get here on foot, I decided the savings would be substantial. At least in terms of time.
A spacious hall with several comfortable-looking couches. Funny… I thought the expedition members from the series brought their own furniture to the city. But the "local" stuff looks familiar. I definitely saw a chair like this in the series!
So, not only do the Ancients' cities hold up for millennia without falling apart, but the leather upholstery on the soft furniture doesn't crack either. They sure knew how to build things!
Numerous decorative columns, with decorative water tanks inside them where countless bubbles rose from bottom to top, had a calming effect. And I was really thirsty. I was tempted to break the glass on a column and drink my fill… But something told me not to. At the very least, I doubted that in a city that had lain on the ocean floor for ten thousand years in a dwarf galaxy of the local Milky Way group, there would be fresh water. And I didn't fancy drinking water rich in sea salts from another galaxy.
Never mind, I'll tough it out. I'll save that decision for a last resort.
I don't know exactly how long I've been in the city, but the anxiety and excitement of the first few minutes have passed. My rationalizing brain has kicked in fully. Along with that notorious greedy voice.
The idea of leaving the city and avoiding a drowning death pounded at my temple. The survival instinct is deeply wired in my subconscious, nothing I can do about that.
And in my chest, a nostalgic, pragmatic voice ached, insisting I should do everything to save this beautiful city from destruction. At least because it's a — fucking — flying spaceship! With very advanced technology! With its own device for traveling to all corners of this and other galaxies.
I just need to apply my intelligence correctly to find a way out of this situation. The energy needs are met by three ZPMs — Zero Point Modules. But in the series, the team usually got by with just one "battery." What's more, in this galaxy, there are planets with nearly full, charged ZPMs lying around. Which could solve all my problems…
But I still need to find them.
There are no spare ZPMs lying around the city. As it happened, they didn't find any in the series. And I'm having some trouble searching Atlantis with genuine loot-hungry feelings.
Occupied with these thoughts, I finally reached the treasure of the Atlantis Central Spire.
The technology of the Stargate runs like a red thread through this universe's narrative. Essentially, it's a device created by the Ancients millions of years ago. It allows you, by entering the address of another gate, to cross thousands of parsecs in a short time. Travel from one point in the galaxy to another without spending on tickets, baggage, and so on.
The device is made in the form of a large ring through which many people can pass simultaneously. Or specially designed ships of suitable size can fly through. And I think vehicles could go through too — at least some types of robots or wheeled transports handled this task perfectly.
If I remember correctly, when activated, the gate creates a wormhole connecting to a gate on the other side of the galaxy. High tech and all that.
The energy required to operate the gate is generated by the gate itself, due to the design features of the installation. And that's truly magnificent! Because building a system that consumes enormous amounts of energy and also generates that energy itself, even millions of years after its creation, regardless of whether it was used all that time or stood inactive, is priceless.
The key thing to remember about this technology is that, by using it for its intended purpose, together with a dialing device that looks like a giant mushroom, you can avoid a heap of problems. Or at least dematerialize on one planet and rematerialize on another without harming your health.
On most worlds, the gate is installed on stepped pedestals together with a dialing device — a panel used to specify the destination. In Atlantis, the gate is located in a special room — the infamous gate room, which itself is also the control center for the entire city.
The Stargate in Atlantis. Its copies throughout the Pegasus galaxy have the same design.
Unlike most planets in the universe, where the dialing device is "standardly" located next to the gate installation, in Atlantis it is placed in the city's control center. And it has its own unique design.
But I'll have time to figure that out later. Right now, I just allowed myself a few seconds to admire the Atlantis gate room.
The gate room. View from the "office" toward the "left" half.
This room is a two-level space connected by a wide staircase. On the lower level are the gate itself, as well as a platform for arriving beings and cargo. Directly opposite the gate is a staircase, with inscriptions in the Ancient language glowing on the riser of each step. I've never even tried to find out what's written there.
From the first level, there are passages to other rooms in the Central Spire — and I came in through one of them.
On the second level, the room is divided into two halves: right and left, if you stand with your back to the gate and face the staircase.
On the left, behind massive doors that rotate on their axis with square blue glass panels, is something like a conference room where various issues can be discussed. Actually, that's how it was in the series. I'm afraid to even imagine what the room was used for by the Ancients themselves.
The "right" half of the gate room.
On the opposite side of the gate room on the second level, the builders placed a control station. Numerous consoles serving various purposes provide access both to dialing the gate address and to controlling most of Atlantis's systems. I don't know why the Ancients placed a small balcony opposite the control station, but it looks quite organic.
To my surprise, I discovered another staircase in the "right" half, between the lower and upper levels. Digging through my memory, I recalled that yes, there was one in the "series version." And the heroes often used it to get to the hangar with the ships that fly through the gate. It's built above the gate room, but I wasn't going there yet.
In the corner of the "right" half, right up against the outer wall of the Spire, was a small office with large windows — from floor to ceiling. I remember it was used as the chief's working office for the expedition leader. And it also had a personal transporter.
Strange that I couldn't appear from it… Well, what difference does it make now?
The PDA helpfully showed me a plan of this room. But it didn't distinguish between the levels of a single room. I remember it can be reconfigured for such details, but I don't have time for that now.
A plan of the gate room from an English-language forum. "Carter's Office" is that very "office."
Looking around and finding no traces of anyone's presence (except for some dried — but not decayed after all these years — plants in massive tubs), I headed through one of the side passages on the lower level of the gate room to the lower floors of the tower.
There wasn't the slightest evidence of the expedition's arrival anywhere. No people, no equipment… I can't immediately tell if that's good or bad.
There's no more doubt — there's not a soul in the city.
As they say, unknown land belongs to whoever discovers it. And since I got here first and there's no sign of any expedition, that means Atlantis is mine. And even if the Earthlings arrive — they can go screw themselves, this is MY city. I could probably come to an agreement with fellow countrymen, but in the series, the Americans traditionally handled everything…
True, their "affairs" often followed the simple equation "find/create a problem — heroically solve the problem." Though, who doesn't screw up? No one's without sin.
But that didn't change the gravity of the situation. Walking past the windows, I looked at the dead city again. And again grimaced at the familiar sight of flashes and air bubbles.
I need to hurry. The city is on its last legs. If the energy runs out, it's all over. It won't matter who rules the flooded city.
That flash and the air bubbles I saw when I woke up are clear confirmation. The city is sacrificing its periphery to save its central parts. Which means a huge number of rooms on the lower floors and in the outer part of the city are now flooded with ocean water.
And that is not good.
Atlantis isn't just a city, a ship, the flying capital of the Ancients in the Pegasus galaxy. It's also a laboratory — a proving ground for the clash between humanity's ancestors' scientific inquiry and the laws of the universe. Very dangerous secrets are hidden within the city: a nanovirus, a creature that feeds on energy, a device that accelerates evolution, a device that turns people into living bombs, and so on.
The expedition, even with its skill in handling Ancient technology and knowledge of their language, managed to make such a mess that even five years of the mission weren't enough to clean it up.
Me, on the other hand — I have neither. No knowledge of languages, no team of specialists. All on my own, all on my own... I just doubt the city will appreciate my "English with a dictionary."
There are two places I'd like to see first. And in my plan, visiting them comes right after finding the gate room.
Not finding the first one in the direction I initially headed, I returned to the gate room. Probably need to search the floors in another part of the tower.
But, since I had some time...
I ran up the side stairs to the second level of the gate room. From there — up another floor.
And I ended up in a semi-dark room, where light from the flickering lamps barely penetrated.
Standing still for a few seconds, letting the lighting chase the darkness into twilight, I finally saw the jumper bay in all its glory.
The jumper/puddle jumper bay in Atlantis.
Built in the traditional angular style of Atlantis's creators, the bay held a good dozen transport vehicles capable of traveling through the gate. "Jumpers," as the expedition had dubbed them. I don't know their Ancient name.
A Jumper.
Each of these ships is about the size of a long-bed truck, and in terms of comfort, there's nothing to compare them to. A spaceship capable of flight through the gate, in space, acting as a submarine, and even armed with homing projectiles — drones. Great stuff.
And I had set myself the goal of examining every single one of them to clarify one point...
After about thirty minutes of inspecting the aft compartments of each transport in the bay, I came to a disappointing conclusion.
I'm in the time period where the expedition from Earth that arrived on the planet has drowned. The city hasn't risen.
And the direct proof of that is the massive installation in the aft compartment of one of the jumpers. The Jumper's interior space is divided into a cockpit and a cargo-passenger compartment.
Ah, how I had hoped I wouldn't see what I saw...
The thing is, in the events of the series, the system that raised the city to the surface when the shield was about to fail only worked because of a time jump. And what enabled that jump was precisely that thing, looking like an oval piano, which I found in one of the ships.
According to the plot of the series, after the time jump, the surviving head of the expedition was transported ten thousand years into the past, to the time when the city's native population still lived there. And they did not appreciate the jokes with the space-time continuum. They dismantled the time machine.
But that prompted one of the Ancients, named Janus, to help his distant descendants. He programmed the city to rise.
And, since the machine is here, it means the time jump never happened. And the knowledge of how to lift Atlantis from the very bottom... Well, it took the series' heroes five seasons to figure that out. Or four... Or three...
It doesn't matter — I don't have that kind of time.
But, I do have a time machine, which I also don't know how to operate. And I'm not exactly brimming with desire to become a pioneer. The butterfly effect hasn't been canceled. The fact that the series' heroes managed to jump through time completely by accident — and, as always, successfully — didn't exactly inspire me to experiment either.
Looks like my lucky streak ended right when I found the personal belongings.
For a few minutes, I sat on the floor of the hangar, processing everything I'd seen. I honestly didn't like the situation. I mean, I really didn't like it.
"To hell with it," I forced out, getting to my feet. "I need answers."
And I knew who I could get them from.
* * *
I found the room I needed after another hour of searching. The expedition had done it almost instantly. Then again, there were several hundred curious comrades of theirs.
I crossed the threshold, gazing with hidden desire at the circular room, whose walls, like most of the city's interior decoration, were made of a material in various shades of brown, with streaks of blue and green mixed in.
A small pedestal in the center of the room, and on it — a control panel, tiny compared to the ones I'd seen in the control room. Transparent glass, over which were numerous switches, awaiting a user.
The trapezoidal keyboard lit up with a pleasant bluish glow, and before me appeared a hologram, seemingly woven from light, of a young woman in white robes...
"Greetings," she favored me with a meaningless smile. "Allow me to tell you our story..."
A still from the pilot episode of the series. The action takes place right in the hologram room.
"Stop!" I commanded.
."..we came to this galaxy..."
"Pause!"
."..many millions of years ago..."
"Stop the hologram!" I barked. It didn't work, though. Annoyed, I stepped away from the console, and the hologram vanished in an instant.
Oh, these conventions. Drives me crazy when, instead of answering direct questions, the Ancients invent a whole constellation of mysteries, rebuses, puzzles, and scatter them across dozens of planets.
But, unfortunately, there's nothing I can do about it.
To my great regret, I am very dependent on whether I get answers here and now. Or whether I'm left empty-handed.
Looks like I have to listen to the recording. Regardless of who I am and by what supernatural means I got here.
The luminous image of the Ancient continued its unusually short story about how the Ancients came to Pegasus, populated it with life, and went about their usual business.
."..in the hope of seeding life in the previously lifeless galaxy," the hologram intoned familiar words. Looking at its emotionless face, I thought: isn't it strange that she and I are speaking Russian? Although... On the other hand, in the series, everyone — from the Ancients to the ugliest creatures — understood American English. And it was fine, the brain boiled, but it accepted the information. And what's so bad about our great and mighty? "Soon, new life grew strong and flourished..."
Uh-huh. We know all about these do-gooders.
The hologram spoke for a few seconds about how the Ancients watched over the development of civilizations, guiding them on the true path. And I asked myself for the umpteenth time: why the hell did a civilization of genius scientists, who already millions of years ago knew how to cross the boundary of mortality, turning into pure energy, need to do all this over and over again? A new galaxy, the appearance of human life in it, help and support... I believe in altruism, but... The Ancients at that time had more problems than they could carry. They had just barely survived the plague. And now, again...
."..so that young civilizations could exchange knowledge. Life appeared on thousands of worlds. But one day we found a dark world, where terrible creatures waited in hibernation..."
An interactive map of the Pegasus galaxy was already on full display under the ceiling of the hologram room. I'd seen it many times in the series, but in person... Beautiful!
And more footage from the series.
"We had never encountered such creatures before," the hologram continued its historical tour. I was itching to ask it — did you by any chance create these "terrible creatures"? Because you claim to have given rise to all life in Pegasus? Or not all life, and the "terrible creatures" were here before you? If so, then maybe it wasn't just them? But I remained silent, knowing that the recording wouldn't answer my questions. But someone else might...
"We were overly arrogant and not ready for battle. They overwhelmed us with numbers. The enemies devoured the people who inhabited thousands of worlds," the multicolored specks of light under the ceiling, representing planets across the galaxy, began to turn red. "Only Atlantis survived. The city's shield held against their attacks. But we were besieged here for many years. And, trying to save the last representatives of our race, we submerged the city in the ocean. The Stargate of Atlantis remained the only way back to Earth from this galaxy..."
That was quite a voyage the Ancients had.
They appeared in a distant galaxy, but there they didn't get along with another part of their own people. So they set off wandering the universe. First they found the Milky Way galaxy, which they also seeded with life and inhabited for a time. After that, a plague broke out among their people, and the survivors, along with those not sick, fled on Atlantis to Pegasus. And started all over again, but met the "terrible creatures."
It was naive to think the hologram would tell me about the horrifying experiments the Ancients conducted. And about what they led to.
Then again... They were dreamers and scientists. If I were in their place, with their philosophy that everyone is free to do what they want and bear the responsibility for it, would I have acted differently?
Ah-ha-ha... Might as well have polonium in my food! I am in their place now!
."..with their help, the survivors returned to the world that was once our home. There, the last Atlanteans spent the rest of their days. This city fell asleep..."
At that, the hologram favored me with a short nod and froze. It seemed to be waiting for some instruction from me.
Well, it was time to get answers. Or at least try to. Circumstances indicate I won't get answers just because I'm such a nice transmigrator.
Taking off my backpack, I turned back to the hologram.
"Who was your image based on?"
"The template for this hologram is Melia, a member of the High Council of Atlantis," the figure of light particles came to life. Whoa. So there are other "named" characters in the universe besides the "plot" ones. Or maybe I was just that attentive while watching the Stargate series and movies. "Would you like to know something else?"
"A glass of water would be nice," I said, thinking about my next move. I was hoping to see a different woman here. Well, let's start the "game." And, I suppose I should forget that this room's operation eats up energy, which is already in short supply. "I want to change the holographic avatar. Is that possible?"
"As you wish," Melia nodded subtly. "You can specify a specific name, and the instructional hologram will be updated."
"Now that's what I call a friendly interface," I cracked my stiff neck and said:
"Have your hologram replaced by Morgana."
"I'm sorry," the hologram replied in the same indifferent-polite voice. "No one with a similar name was found in the database."
What do you mean, not found?
"Morgan le Fay! Morgana le Fay!" I tried.
"I'm sorry..."
Oh, for crying out loud... Right, that's not her real name. That's the name she entered Earth's history and the history of several other planets under while carrying out her "very special assignment" in the Milky Way.
But what was her name...
"Lalos Gal!"
"I'm sorry..."
"Pagos Tal!"
"I'm sorry..."
Come on! I remember it being something like that. But... exactly how... Something to do with persecution... That's it!
"Ganos Lal!"
"Request received," the figure of light smiled. "Replacing hologram now."
The projection faded, along with the galaxy map overhead, but the next second a similar one appeared before me. Only her expression was more... aged, I suppose?
Right before me appeared the figure of a pleasant-looking middle-aged woman in snow-white robes. Woven from light, the hologram smiled at me routinely, looking straight into my eyes and yet seemingly through me. It's a strange feeling, especially when you know what you're dealing with.
Ganos Lal. Also known as Morgan le Fay. Also known as Morgana le Fay.
The hologram room I had come to held many secrets. And now, before me, perhaps the greatest of them was revealed.
"Hello!" Ganos Lal's hologram, like an echo of the past, broke the silence of the room. "You may enter your request verbally or in writing."
"Verbally, if possible," I threw in a little dig. Fine, have it your way — the show goes on.
"Of course," a nod. "A written request requires more system operations."
Oh, is that so? All right, let's see who outwits whom.
"Tell me," I asked, licking my dry lips. "How does a person from a universe where everything that happens in this city is just the events of a TV series appear in Atlantis?"
A brief blink, a stare into emptiness.
Well then. Let's be honest.
"Is that too complex a question for an instructional hologram?" I asked, taking a small step to the side. A tiny one, just shifting my weight from one foot to the other, nothing special.
"Conducting this type of research requires a prolonged period and energy expenditure," the hologram stated impassively. "Calculations are underway..."
"Cancel operation," I commanded, running my hand over my face. I couldn't wipe the tension off of it. My nerves were still jittery, and it manifested in me tapping a rhythm with my foot.
"Are there any other people in the city?" I asked, turning slightly to the side.
"A full-scale scan of the city for life signs requires additional resources and energy," came the answer.
"What needs to be done to raise the city to the surface?" I inquired, shifting slightly to the side again. Just a little. Barely noticeable.
"A series of steps to activate the sublight engines must be completed," the hologram reported. "I am sorry, but my functionality is limited. Please contact the city control center."
"I've already been there. Only emptiness and grim reapers standing about," I chuckled, looking at the extinguished glow on the hologram room's control console. Shifting my gaze to the figure of pure light, I laughed softly.
Ganos Lal continued to stare at the wall, looking past me.
"Have you realized you've been caught yet, or not?" I asked.
"Please enter your request verbally or in writing," she recited.
"Verbally," I said. "Compare the energy consumption of this room over the last five minutes with data on the same consumption over the last ten seconds. About that much time has passed since I stepped away from the control panel and the system shut down. And last time, Melia's hologram disappeared at exactly that moment..."
The figure of light flinched almost imperceptibly. Did I imagine it, or did she blink?
"You're caught, Morgana," I said. The "hologram's" head turned slightly in my direction. "I know perfectly well you're not an instructional program. You've just been fooling the other Ascended Ones with this simple and audacious trick. So, shall we talk, or are we going to keep playing innocent?"