Skipping several steps at a time, nearly dropping the ZPM a few times, I descended to the control station level. And immediately understood that things were bad.
The monitor, thin like good humor, no longer flickered with various shades of green. Yes, it showed numerous markings in the language of the Ancients, but the very fact that the city map was abundant with numerous red marks did not please me.
The siren methodically invaded directly into my brain, adding panic to what I saw.
Atlantis was sinking. I don't know for what reason, but the city's shield had contracted to the size of the central spire, while the rest of the city-ship was already either underwater or about to be in such a position.
Even worse, the lower levels of the tower were also flooded. The very levels where the room with the ZPM was located!
ZPM and the location of the central power node.
I had been on Sudaria for no more than six hours! Based on the time I had spent in the city and the area of Atlantis that turned out to be flooded, I thought I had at least two or three days in reserve!
What happened⁉ Why⁉
Unlikely that I have time to search for answers to the questions. The central spire is rapidly flooding. The room with the ZPM is still out of the water, which means I have time.
But I'll have to hurry. The nearest teleporter in the lower part of the tower turned out to be inaccessible — probably it's already flooded and is beyond the shield. Which, damn it, is rapidly disintegrating!
At the moment, only fractions of a percent of the required power remain from it. Water is already around the central spire. The only thing that doesn't allow it to rush inside at the speed of falling water from Niagara Falls is the quality sealing methods of the structures.
Classic "things used to be better!" in action.
There's only one option — run down the stairs.
If while descending the staircase from the Jumper bay to the Gate Room I was jumping over a couple of steps, now I was flying over almost half of the stairwell. I was no longer afraid of falling and breaking my neck — the personal shield continued to work. But dropping the ZPM was quite real.
Interesting, can it be broken? If yes, will it vaporize me immediately as close to the epicenter, or not?
I need to hurry.
Running, skipping steps and stairwells, my body raced to the base of the tower. There was no time left to think about what was happening. First, the ZPM will take its place, then we can figure out who's to blame and what to do.
For some reason, it seemed to me that the answer to the first question would be my own name. How — I don't know. But there's clearly no one else in the city.
Or... no, the Ancients wouldn't first "hire" me for the job and then shit in the well from which they need to drink.
I had only one stair march left to overcome and run to the center of the tower to reach the ZPM room when, jumping off the stairs, I crashed into the water glistening over the floor of the floor I needed.
Icy, damn water, the level of which reached my knee in a matter of moments.
What⁈
So, things are really bad if the lower floors of the spire are starting to flood?
Damn it! Why do I feel the cold, I'm under the shield?
It clicked in my head — the shield lets air through. Most likely, it's not even the water temperature, but the air temperature.
And the column of steam that burst from my mouth confirmed the guess.
Looking at the dark water, illuminated from inside by still-working lights in the rooms, I pondered for a couple of seconds what to do next.
It's not too late to return to the hangar, dial the Gate address, and escape. To hell with Atlantis, it's no longer savable. Everything down there is flooded with water, including the ZPM room! To replace the discharged ones with working, I'd have to expose the wiring contacts conducting voltage at such a level that a short circuit would seem like a relief. Which I most likely won't feel.
Memory helpfully suggested an ancient school physics experiment. Sea water is an excellent conductor of electricity because it contains dispersed salts of various elements like sodium, calcium, and other metals. Any non-hermetic device that ends up in salt water instantly becomes inoperable. So, even if I manage to reach the ZPM room without drowning, if I manage to remove the old batteries from the distribution node, the city's power system will react with sea water and...
"Stop panicking, damn it!" I shouted to myself, taking the first steps into the water. Well, as taking. It had already reached almost to my knees.
I won't say that I was once the best swimmer in the world, but estimating how much time it would take me to get — running won't work anymore — to the cherished room, I concluded that I would have to swim after all. I think there's air in the ZPM room, I just need to get there.
The ocean relentlessly cramped my limbs with spasms. Taking a couple of steps back, I mentally ordered the shield to turn off. As soon as the green haze around me disappeared, I unbuttoned my jacket, shedding it. And immediately stuffed the ZPM under my T-shirt.
The device seemed to radiate warmth, which wouldn't hurt me. Mentally asking the shield not to explode, I attached it to my pants. The personal device worked nominally. Well, there you go, and you were afraid... Even energy remained in the ZPM. Probably.
I returned to the water.
One more step, another... The ZPM room, if you believe the plan on the Ancient scanner, is just one level below. You can walk there!
But no need to walk, I'll suffocate.
But swimming...
Strange feeling — ocean all around, icy at that, and I'm dry... the brain categorically refused to accept this as a given. And so, without thinking, I took a deep breath and dove.
The water resisted, as if trying to throw me back, push me out. I looked at the handheld, memorizing the map to the ZPM room. After that, I tossed the scanner aside and, clinging to the steps, began descending down.
The pressure kept increasing, but I had no other choice. The only chance for salvation is to power the city. If I don't manage to do this — I'll drown, because hoping to float up inside the building, and in complete darkness — is a great luck. Truly incredible.
It's too late to indulge in hopes. Only count on my own strength. After all, I myself demanded from the Ascended not to interfere, right? Well, here's the result.
Although, they wouldn't have helped anyway.
The shield around me was already fully glowing green. So I understand, the stronger the impact on it, the brighter it becomes. Which is good. I, damn it for a finger, Green Lantern! Yes, fear me, oceanic depths, a boiler the size of the Titanic for you!.
The picture — sheer darkness. In the middle of a futuristic city, surrounded by flooded high technologies, a person glowing like a Christmas tree swims into the darkness.
I reached the cherished doors when my lungs were already burning from lack of oxygen. Why does everything end so quickly⁈ I'm in a young body, the time of my army youth! Back then I was into swimming and even outswam a few guys from the sports company with breaststroke!
Starting to slowly release air through a thin gap from my lips, I finally managed to grab the light fixture next to the door. The entry panel didn't even think not only to react to my movements in front of it, but even to light up. What crap!
"Normal heroes..."
Somehow prying off the decorative plate, I tore it off and looked at the dimmed crystals. Three of them vertically in a row. Well, remove one, short-circuit the other two with it... I remember, the expedition did something similar in a similar situation.
Taking a big breath into my lungs, I dove.
Damn builders! Why the hell doesn't this lock work underwater?
It didn't work. Neither on the first try nor the second.
I still had hope that this room wasn't flooded, after all, it's one of the main compartments of the city. But it doesn't think to open!
And here it became really scary. If the door doesn't open — I'll simply choke. The corridor is already filled with water, as is the floor above me. Swimming out of here alive — zero chances at all. And as soon as Atlantis is fully flooded — turn off the lights, throw a grenade. The pressure will simply crush me. And already my ears are aching — water rising from below squeezes oxygen upward, compressing it several times. A classic example of compression formation in the combustion chamber of a piston engine.
However, there's still a chance. I don't feel the water flow towards the door leading to the ZPM room, which means either everything is already flooded there, or the compartment's hermeticity hasn't been breached. The chances are about the same as meeting a living Ancient in the city.
I didn't have much exhaled air left at my disposal. As soon as it runs out, panic will begin. Whether I want it or not, the brain realizes impending death, and the dance with tambourines will start.
I'm doing something wrong with the crystals. Which one to remove and which to short-circuit? Only two options — either short the lower and central with the upper, or the upper and middle with the lower.
Stop! What if they need to be swapped⁈
Exactly!
I needed to remove one crystal, swap it with the central one, and then short-circuit with the central.
It didn't work the first time.
But as soon as the upper one took the place of the middle, the console lit up with internal lighting! And that's already something!
Crystal short-circuit, frame from the series.
It worked. And didn't even kill me with electricity. Good thing the circuit didn't burn out. Oh, thank you builders for providing a margin of safety. The door leaves swung open, showing me an empty room.
The resulting water flow literally sucked me into the ZPM room. Hitting my head on the central triangular pedestal where the modules should be placed, I, cursing my own carelessness in every way, tried to get to my feet. At the same time, I was seriously glad for the stale but still air. More precisely, its remnants: despite the considerable size of the room, water was flooding in quite briskly. I need to stop this at any cost.
Fortunately for me, the shield helped resist the water this time too. But I managed to reach the console and lock the doors only when it could hardly help me anymore.
Looking around, I realized that there's a bit of air under the very ceiling. Not resisting the buoyant force, I floated up there, greedily inhaling air into my lungs.
Everything's fine, everything's fine.
Just a little bit left!
I just need to swap the ZPM and everything will be wonderful...
Oh, damn it!
***
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