So. One question is answered by elimination—most likely I'm on Atlantis. At the time when it was slowly sinking to the bottom of the ocean on an ocean world in the Pegasus Galaxy.
And… there are two pieces of news. Can't say either is clearly good.
I only remembered one episode where the expedition members saw something like this—the flash outside the window and the rising air bubbles.
The very first one. The very beginning of Atlantis. The expedition's arrival.
The flash and bubble are the result of the shield holding back millions of tons of water starting to fail. Because there's no power—Atlantis's "batteries" have run dry after all these years.
There are two possible outcomes.
Option one, which happened before time travel shenanigans and the help of one restless Ancient. The city ran out of power and sank. Everyone in the expedition drowned. The end.
Option two: same thing, but at the last moment the heroes used a conveniently placed crutch called a time machine, went back, found an Ancient in Atlantis's last days, and he helped save the city. So when the expedition arrived and the shield failed and everyone prepared to die, the engines kicked in and pushed the city to the surface. No power, no protection—Atlantis survived, barely damaged.
And I don't like either option. It would be stupid to die after getting a second chance—inside a city built by people who developed millions of years before Homo sapiens. Though those first humans, the Ancients, are the ones who created Homo—
Pressing up to the window, I tried to make out in the darkness any hint of people in the city. In the first rush, the expedition took up a fairly large area inside the Central Spire, which triggered the automatic activation of many systems—including in the spire. I seemed to be on one of the piers, because I could make out the massive bulk of the central structure in the distance. And there wasn't a single lit window—impossible if someone were there. If anyone were here at all.
I suspect the total lack of even minimal lighting across the city is proof that the power sources feeding Atlantis are on the edge of depletion. If the energy counter hits zero… honestly, I don't want to test that.
I need to get out. If it's as bad as I think, then I need to reach the Central Spire as fast as possible—and use a Puddle Jumper. That's a small ship designed for… a lot of things. But most importantly, it can fly through a Stargate. And that's a big ring that—
To hell with it.
One step at a time.
The inevitable has already happened—I'm in deep trouble. And the sooner I find a way out, the better.
For some reason, I remembered the Voice's words about the "others" not being as agreeable as me. Maybe there are others like me here. Worn-out-to-the-bone "isekai" types. But judging by the silence and darkness of the city… I doubt it.
Fine. Brain works, hands move.
Turning to the wall compartments I'd noticed earlier, I started looting. Even if there's an alarm, I honestly wouldn't mind if someone came to help. In this situation, it doesn't even matter who.
There were three compartments. And without any pangs of conscience about rummaging through a dead man's things, I went to work.
The search took about ten minutes, and I piled everything I found onto the lab table I'd woken up on.
My first haul was clothing and footwear. Comfortable ankle boots with a high collar and… not laces, not a zipper, not Velcro… something like self-tightening adjusters. Smelled like Back to the Future. Fine. Not my choice.
A milk-colored uniform with gray and brown inserts—like a military set: trousers, underwear, a tunic, a short-sleeved shirt. If the Ancients used the same approach to buttons, I'd found a male version. The lack of a tailored waist gave me hope.
Looks like there's justice in the universe after all.
Good. Clothes and boots. Hm, even something like socks. They look like worn soccer knee socks, but as soon as you put them on—just like the underwear—they fit perfectly.
Convenient.
There was also a belt with a thigh holster and fastening straps. Fits, I'm taking it. Now all that's left is to test my luck and find a weapon.
The uniform in question. From Stargate Atlantis.
Second acquisition: a roomy backpack made of a soft but extremely dense material. It really looked like a backpack—two straps, a carry handle… Only instead of a zipper, it had a magnetic closure.
Its outer surface, glossy in the light, felt like plastic, but it was harder than it seemed—I'd bet on it. My memory supplied that backpacks like these flashed in the show—during the evacuation from the city, some Ancients carried them through the Gate. And there had to be something interesting inside. Like an experienced scavenger, I didn't hesitate: I immediately checked its contents.
Nearly a hundred small bricks, about the size of a candy bar, wrapped in transparent packaging that looked like polyethylene. It didn't take long to guess their purpose. I tore open one and took a bite. Small dose—won't poison me. If it's disgusting, I'll spit it out.
Sure, the Ancients could've stored rat poison like that… but somehow I doubt it.
Yeah. Something between children's plasticine and hematogen. Not tasty, but it killed the hunger. I waited a few minutes—no nausea or other reaction—and then, barely chewing, I swallowed three more. The Ancients built ships and devices that lasted at least ten thousand years. Let's hope their food has the same shelf life. My stomach accepted it kindly, and feeling sated, I moved to the last compartment.
Unlike the other two, this one was split in half by a shelf. And on the top shelf I found something that filled me with confidence about tomorrow—though who knows what kind of "tomorrow" any of us will even have down here.
A futuristic energy pistol. Hard not to be happy about that. If I remember correctly, the humanoid Replicators had things like this…
God, I watched this show twenty years ago! Sure, I rewatched a few favorite episodes, but I can't possibly remember that much after all this time. I had more important things in life—Marina, family, work, friends… successes and failures…
Yet those are somehow blurry now, like they were so long ago… I don't like that. But there's no time to dig into it. Safety first.
If I'm going to be safe, that is.
Energy pistol.
The design was… unusual, with all those crystals instead of a barrel. Fine. Details. What mattered more was the little scale with square indicators on the weapon, near where a firearm would have a slide and chamber. That scale, like the crystal emitter, wasn't lit. Not when I picked it up, not when I didn't.
Broken? Drained?
The pistol sat well in my hand, and the soft trigger almost begged my finger to squeeze it. But I had no intention of firing indoors, so the weapon went into the thigh holster and settled in.
No complaints, but this is starting to scare me. Too many things lining up. Or am I just looking for a black cat in a black room because I'm in shock?
The question of where it got power answered itself. The holster had small pockets with two little blue crystals—about the size of a pinky phalanx—tiny octagonal prisms.
And at the butt of the pistol, there was a matching slot. Coincidence? Hardly.
I inserted the crystal where it belonged and gave a satisfied snort—the weapon made a pleasant sound and the necessary elements lit up. I once again fought the urge to test-fire it. The only thing that stopped me was the thought that I definitely wouldn't like the consequences.
The last item I found was a device that the show called a "life-sign detector." A small unit in a semi-transparent white casing that felt like silicone, with an edge-to-edge touchscreen and a few buttons along the bottom. Like an exaggerated PDA by size and shape. But in reality it was a very advanced compact computer. If I remember correctly, it could detect life signs, radiation, energy sources… Useful.
And it had one unspoken function. Or rather, "it's not a feature, it's a bug." The thing is, the life-sign detector was one of those complex Ancient devices that worked…
Another beep, barely noticeable, and the black screen came alive, drawing a schematic of several lines, partitions and… a blinking white dot in the center.
One life sign.
Mine.
Without noticing it, I exhaled in relief.
The scanner worked in the hands of those who had the ATA gene. Yes, the Ancients protected their best devices from enemies and inept primates by configuring them so that only those with a specific genetic sequence—the ATA gene—could use them. For everyone else, it was no more than a monument to a more advanced civilization.
Of course, it didn't always stop the meddling hands of TV heroes.
This is the "life-sign detector," aka the Ancient Scanner, aka the Ancient PDA. From Stargate Atlantis.
So the gene dilemma was solved in minutes.
Either I had the ATA gene, or this specific device worked without it. Which I strongly doubt.
People say the universe likes balance—bad luck here, a pleasant surprise there.
Let's hope my good streak doesn't end. And I really don't want it followed by a bad one—followed by the end of the zebra…
So, without wasting a second, I put on the uniform, strapped the holster to my right thigh, threw the backpack over my shoulders, and—holding the scanner in my left hand and the pistol in my right—headed for the exit.
A light pass of my hand over the three vertically aligned crystals on the panel to the right of the door, and I stepped into a corridor.
It stretched many meters to the right and left, but judging that the outline of the Central Spire was to the right of my current location, I headed that way without hesitation.
Even with the uniform—which was light but warm enough—the cold in the other areas still seeped in. As I moved deeper through corridors and levels, I felt that despite the city's mechanisms waking up as I approached—hidden in the walls, floor, and ceiling—my ears, fingers, and nose still froze. The city was probably still "waking up," responding to my presence.
No point sitting around and waiting to be rescued. The Voice didn't send me here for nothing. Something is seriously wrong in the Lost City of the Ancients. Any doubt that I'm on Atlantis? None. Any doubt that I'm alone? Also none.
The scanner's interface was intuitive. After a few trials and errors, I could use two fingers to change the map scale. At maximum zoom-out, I confirmed my theory: I'd woken up on one of the city's outer piers—more precisely, one of the smaller ones.
The scanner obediently provided me with a city plan. But it was just a map, like a blueprint on paper. No interactivity. Or maybe I didn't know how to enable it.
Doesn't matter. I need the Central Spire if I'm going to get answers.
After a long run through corridors and stairs, I stopped to catch my breath by a large window. Oddly enough, it had gotten "brighter" outside. With the naked eye, I could make out the outlines of dozens of buildings. Some—even in detail. The ones closer were clearly visible.
I craned my neck to look upward through the window. As expected—beyond the thickness of the water, and it wasn't thin at all—faint rays from the local star reached the city. Not the Sun. Not "the sun." A star.
Barely visible against the darkness of the ocean depths, somewhere above the highest point of the city, there was a transparent film: the city shield. The only thing separating Atlantis from thousands of tons of water and a force so destructive that even the Ancients and their miracles of engineering couldn't resist it. At least, in the show they couldn't.
The city is millions of years old. And even if it's essentially a sealed spaceship, it only takes a few breaches in one section, failed flood-control sensors in another, doors that don't seal tight in a third…
I really don't want to test my luck all the way to the bottom with my own skin.
A thousand questions are screaming in my head, but they 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'm just the most agreeable tool it could grab. I didn't play innocent for long. I had a chance to save the woman I loved—and I took it.
Do I regret it?
Not for a second.
If I had to—I'd do it again. Again, and again, and again.
Damn it, my nerves are shot. Need to calm down. Otherwise I won't last as long as I want to.
After finishing my breather, I checked the scanner and jogged toward the city's transport system.
Time to reach the Central Spire.
There's something there… someone… who can answer my questions. Or at least it's worth trying. If nothing else, I can always threaten.