The Jumper bay—the hangar for Jumpers/jumpers/Puddle Jumpers in Atlantis.
Built in the creators' traditional angular Atlantis style, the hangar held a good dozen transports capable of traveling through the gate. "Jumpers," as the expedition dubbed them. The Ancients' own name for them, I don't know.
Jumper.
Each of these ships was about the size of a dump truck, and in terms of comfort there was nothing to even compare it to. A spacecraft capable of gate travel, spaceflight, serving as a submarine, and on top of that armed with self-guiding munitions—drones. A nice piece of hardware.
And I had set myself the goal of inspecting every last one of them, to clarify one point for myself…
After about thirty minutes of checking the aft compartments of every transport in the hangar, I came to a grim conclusion.
I was in the timeline where the Earth expedition arrived on the planet and drowned. The city never surfaced.
And the direct proof was a massive installation in the aft compartment of one of the Jumpers. The Jumper's interior is divided into a cockpit and a passenger-cargo bay.
Damn, how I had hoped I wouldn't see what I saw…
The thing is, in the series, the system that raised the city to the surface when the shield was about to fail only worked because of time travel. And it was provided by that very thing—an "oval piano" of a device—that I'd just found aboard one of the ships.
According to the show, after the time jump, the surviving expedition leader was sent ten thousand years into the past, back when the city still had its native population. The locals weren't amused by games with the space-time continuum. They dismantled the time machine.
But that pushed one of the Ancients—Janus—to help his distant descendants. He was the one who programmed the city to surface.
And since the machine was here, it meant there had been no time jump. And the knowledge of how to raise Atlantis from the very bottom… Well, it took the show's heroes five seasons to truly understand that process. Or four… Or three…
Doesn't matter. I don't have that kind of time.
But I do have a time machine—which I also have no idea how to operate. And I'm not exactly dreaming of becoming a pioneer. Nobody отменял the butterfly effect. The fact that the heroes managed to jump through time completely by accident—and, as always, conveniently—didn't inspire me to experiment, either.
Looks like my lucky streak ended the moment I found those personal belongings.
For a few minutes I just sat on the hangar floor, processing what I'd seen. I openly didn't like the situation. Not even a little.
"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 only after another hour of searching. The expedition managed it almost instantly. Then again, they had several hundred curious people.
I stepped over the threshold, staring with restrained craving at a round chamber whose walls—like most of the city's interior—were made of material in varying shades of brown, laced with veins of blue and green.
A small pedestal in the center of the room, and on it a tiny control panel compared to the ones I'd seen in the control room. Clear glass, and over it—numerous switches, waiting for a user.
A trapezoidal keyboard flared with a pleasant bluish backlight, and a hologram of a young woman in white clothes appeared before me, as if woven from light…
"Greetings," she gave me a meaningless smile. "Allow me to tell you our story…"
A frame from the pilot episode. This is exactly the hologram room.
"Stop!" I ordered.
"… we came to this galaxy…"
"Pause!"
"… many millions of years ago…"
"Stop the hologram!" I barked. It didn't work. Annoyed, I stepped away from the console—and the hologram dissolved in the blink of an eye.
These conventions… I hate it when instead of answers to direct questions, the Ancients invent a whole slew of riddles, puzzles, brainteasers, and then scatter them across dozens of planets.
But unfortunately, there was nothing I could do about it.
Unfortunately for me, I was desperately dependent on whether I'd get answers here and now.
Or whether I'd be left with nothing.
Looks like I had to listen to the recording. No matter who I was, or by what supernatural means I'd ended up here.
The light-radiant image of the Ancient continued its unbelievably short story of how the Ancients arrived in Pegasus, seeded it with life, and went back to doing what they always did.
"… in the hope of sowing life in a galaxy that had until then been lifeless," the hologram recited the familiar lines. Watching her emotionless face, I thought: isn't it strange that she and I are speaking Russian? Though… on the other hand, in the series everyone—from the Ancients to the ugliest monsters—understood American English. And nothing, the brain boiled but accepted it. So why would our great and mighty language be any worse? "Soon the new life grew strong and flourished…"
Yeah. We know you "do-gooders."
For several seconds the hologram spoke about how the Ancients watched civilizations develop, guiding them onto the right path. And once again I found myself wondering: why the hell would a civilization of genius scientists—who, millions of years ago, already knew how to step beyond mortality by becoming pure energy—need to do this over and over again? A new galaxy, human life in it, help and support… I believe in altruism, but… the Ancients had a little more trouble back then than you could carry in your arms. They'd only just 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 beings waited in hibernation…"
Beneath the ceiling of the hologram room, an interactive map of the Pegasus galaxy was already being displayed at full size. I'd seen it many times in the series, but in person… Beautiful!
And more frames from the show.
"We had never encountered such creatures before," the hologram continued its historical lecture. I was tempted to ask her—were these "terrible creatures" created by you, by any chance? Because you claim you gave rise to all life in Pegasus. Or not all of it, and the "terrible beings" were here before you? And if so—maybe not only them? But I kept quiet, understanding the recording wouldn't answer my questions. But someone else would…
"We were overly confident and unprepared for battle. They overwhelmed us with numbers. Our enemies devoured the humans populating thousands of worlds," the multicolored specks of light under the ceiling, showing planets across the galaxy, began turning red. "Only Atlantis survived. The city's shield held under their attacks. But we were under siege here for many years. And, trying to save the last of our people, we sank the city into the ocean. Atlantis's Stargate remained the only path back to Earth from this galaxy…"
That was the Ancients' voyage.
They appeared in a far-off galaxy, but didn't get along with another part of their own people. So they went wandering through the universe. First they found the Milky Way, which they also seeded with life and lived in for a while. Then a plague broke out among their people, and the survivors—those not infected—fled to Pegasus aboard Atlantis. They started all over again… and met the "terrible beings."
It was naïve to think the hologram would talk about the horrific experiments the Ancients conducted. And what those experiments led to.
And yet… they were dreamers and scientists. If I were in their place, with their philosophy that everyone is free to do as they please and bear responsibility for it—would I have done differently?
Ha-ha-ha… polonium in my food. I'm in their place now.
"… with its help the survivors returned to the world that had once been our home. There the last Atlanteans spent the remainder of their days. This city fell asleep…"
With that, the hologram gave me a short nod and froze. It looked like it was waiting for instructions.
Well. Time to get answers. Or at least try. The circumstances suggested I wasn't going to get them just because I'm such a nice isekai protagonist.
Shrugging my backpack off, I addressed the hologram again.
"Whose image are you based on?"
"The model for this hologram is Melia, a member of Atlantis's High Council," the figure of light came alive. Huh. Turns out there are "named" people in this universe besides the "plot" ones. Or maybe I'd been that attentive when I watched Stargate. "Would you like to know anything else?"
"Some water would be nice," I threw out, thinking my next step through. I'd been hoping to see a completely different woman here. Fine. Let's start the "game." And I should probably forget that running this room is eating up power that's already in short supply. "I want to change the holographic avatar. Is that possible?"
"As you wish," Melia nodded almost imperceptibly. "You may provide a specific name, and the instructional hologram will be updated."
"Now that's what I call a friendly interface," I said, cracking my stiff neck. "Replace your hologram with Morgana."
"I'm sorry," the hologram replied in the same politely indifferent voice. "No one with a similar name was found in the database."
What do you mean, not found?!
"Morgana the Fay! Morgana le Fay!" I tried.
"I'm sorry…"
Your damned downshift… Right, that's not her real name. That's the name she entered the history of the Tau'ri—and a number of other worlds under—when she carried out her "special assignment" in the Milky Way.
But what was her name…
"Lalose Gal!"
"I'm sorry…"
"Pagose Tal!"
"I'm sorry…"
Come on! I know it was something like that. But… exactly… Something connected to the persecution of the loliks… Right!
"Ganos Lal!"
"Request received," the figure of light smiled. "Replacing hologram."
The projection melted away along with the galaxy map overhead, but in the next second a similar figure appeared before me. Only her expression was more… mature, or something.
A pleasant-looking middle-aged woman in snow-white clothes appeared right in front of me. Woven from light, the hologram offered a routine smile, simultaneously looking me in the eyes and somehow through me. Not the greatest feeling—especially when you know what you're dealing with.
Ganos Lal. Also known as Morgana le Fay. Also known as Morgan le Fay.
The hologram room I'd come to held many secrets. And now, right before me, perhaps the greatest of them had revealed itself.
"Hello!" Ganos Lal's hologram, like an echo of the past, broke the room's silence. "You may enter your query verbally or in writing."
"Verbally, if possible," I slipped in a jab. Fine, have it your way—the show goes on.
"Of course," she nodded. "A written query requires a greater number of system operations."
So that's how it is? All right. We'll see who wins.
"Tell me," I asked, licking my dry lips, "what is the probability of a human from a universe where everything happening in this city is merely the events of a TV series appearing on Atlantis?"
A brief blink, a stare into nothingness.
All right. Let's be honest.
"Is that too complex a question for an instructional hologram?" I asked, taking a small step to the side. Just a tiny one, shifting my weight, nothing more.
"Conducting research of that kind requires significant time and energy expenditure," the hologram said flatly. "Calculations are being performed…"
"Abort operation," I ordered, dragging a hand down my face. It didn't relieve the tension. My nerves were still jumping, and it spilled over into me tapping out a rhythm with my foot.
"Are there any other people in the city?" I asked, turning slightly to the side.
"A full-scale city scan for life signs requires additional resources and energy," was the answer I got.
"What needs to be done to raise the city to the surface?" I asked, shifting slightly again. Just a little. Barely even noticeable, off to the side.
"It is necessary to perform a set of measures to activate the sublight engines," the hologram reported. "I'm sorry, but my functionality is limited. Please refer to the city's control center."
"I've already been there. Nothing but emptiness—and dead men with scythes," I smirked, looking at the dead lighting on the hologram room's control console. Then I looked back at the figure of pure light and chuckled quietly.
Ganos Lal continued drilling her gaze into the wall, looking past me.
"Have you figured out you're caught yet, or not?" I asked.
"Please enter your query verbally or in writing," she snapped.
"Verbally," I said. "Compare the energy consumption used by this room over the past five minutes with the data on that same consumption over the past ten seconds. That's about how long it's been since I stepped away from the control console and the system shut down. And last time, Melia's hologram vanished at that exact moment…"
The figure of light twitched almost imperceptibly. Or did it? Did she blink?
"You're caught, Morgana," I said. The "hologram's" head turned slightly in my direction. "I know perfectly well that you're not an instructional program. You're just tricking the other Ascended in a simple, brazen way. So—are we going to talk, or are we going to keep playing at innocence?"