Signs from Heaven (2 page)

“Fabe?” Corsi stepped closer, her hand on his arm.

“Wrong move…” With a slight groan he lay back down. Pain ebbed and flowed from behind his eyes to the base of his skull.

Lense had her tricorder out and gently moved Corsi a step back. Her expression bothered him. “Doc?”

“Is it another headache?” Sarjenka asked to his left. He turned to look up at her. It was like looking through a bowl of water at first, but then gradually her image cleared. “Fabian?”

A soft yellow hue superimposed itself on her face when she said his name. “Do—do that again.”

“Do what again?”

She did, and again there was a surge of yellow—but with a smattering of finely woven red. “Wow.”

When he spoke, the colors shifted, melded with one another, and created a soft orange.

“Elizabeth,” Corsi said, “what's wrong with him?”

With Corsi's voice the colors shifted again to a brilliant indigo. He looked at her. “Say something.”

Again as he spoke the indigo ordered itself, no longer a thing of mist.

“What's wrong, Fabian? You're—you're not looking
at
me.”

He refocused his eyes. The more she spoke, the more the misty tendrils of color appeared in the air. “I—I'm seeing colors.”

Lense moved in to look at him. “You're seeing colors?”

“Yeah.” He swallowed. He was also very thirsty. “When different people talk I get impressions of colors. Sarjenka's is yellow, primarily. And Dom's is indigo. And yours—” He frowned. “You're kind of gray.”

“When we talk you see colors.”

Fabian nodded. “Now there's a red bleeding into the gray.”

Lense's left eyebrow arched. “Sarjenka, get Mr. Stevens ready for a full and thorough examination. Full scans. There's something strange happening inside that head of his, and we need to find out what.”

Fabian looked from the now obviously pregnant Elizabeth Lense in her Starfleet Medical lab coat to the more diminutive Dr. Sarjenka with her shy smile.

Stevens closed his eyes.
Full examination. Great. This is Elizabeth's chance to get back at me for all those fat jokes.

B
art
Faulwell looked at the faces of the command staff as they gathered in the observation lounge. What he saw was a mixture of excitement and worry. Excitement he credited to the presence of Captain Scott—always a welcome sight.

Gomez sat to Gold's right. Bart sat on her right, then Carol Abramowitz, the
da Vinci
's cultural specialist, then Sarjenka. P8 Blue, the ship's Nasat Structural Systems specialist, sat comfortably in her chair, specially designed to accommodate her many legs, opposite Gold. To her right sat Lense; Specialist Soloman, a single Bynar; Chief Engineer Nancy Conlon; Second Officer Tev; and Captain Scott, directly on Gold's left.

Noticeably absent were Fabian Stevens and Domenica Corsi.

Lense looked uncomfortable in the chair. Her brows were pinched together over her small nose. Corsi slipped inside the room at that moment and took the seat between Conlon and Tev, her expression unreadable.

Amid the many padds scattered over the conference table sat the five artifacts received from the Ardanan Historian. There was a red and a yellow pyramid, a red and a yellow cube, and a green octagon. The black cylinder was still open, but Conlon and Tev's examination of it found nothing but the base elements of glass.

Gold clasped his hands together on the table. “In less than three days, Stratos will fall, and I don't have to tell any of you how devastating that would be. There are more than three billion Ardanans living in First City. If one life is lost it would be a tragedy.” He nodded to the cultural specialist. “Abramowitz.”

She stood and approached the wall monitor. A touch of the padd in her hand revealed Stratos and Bart made a slow smile. It resembled something out of an old Earth fairy tale. The image looked as if it had been taken by a passing shuttle—which followed what he'd read on the city's tourist trade. A city of spirals, skyscrapers, and torrents, all nestled together on a bed of clouds. He knew the clouds were only an illusion and little more than the emissions from the graviton engines.

“Stratos was built with one thing in mind—the arts. An Ardanan named Moran Busk conceived of the idea of a floating city, and according to what we know of the past, his son Soske Busk built the first engines to actually lift and maintain the city's anti-gravity engines.”

She flipped pictures to a barren, rocky landscape, with orange skies and burnt sand. “During the years of Stratos City Dwellers, the culture split itself into two peoples. The Stratos Dwellers reaped the luxuries the city had to offer in art, music, and food. Those less fortunate were left on the surface of Ardana to mine zenite—one of the earliest minerals used in preventing bacterial plagues on several worlds. They were called Troglytes.”

Carol flipped the screen again to show several workers in drab suits of gray and blue, with silver eye-wear partially hiding their faces. “Neither people were aware of the dangerous gas emitted from the mining of zenite or its effects on the people breathing it. Decreased mental aptitude and tendencies toward violent behavior were the first signs—prolonged use caused retardation in learning capability. In other words, the Troglytes were in a sense
dumbed down
from mining the only source of export and trade the planet had.”

Captain Scott spoke up. “I served on board the
Enterprise
when Captain Kirk was directed there to pick up a shipment of zenite. He, as well as the planet's High Advisor Plasus, were exposed to the gas as a way of proving to the Cloud Dwellers as well as the Troglytes that it did exist.”

“If I recall my history lesson”—Gold frowned at Scott—“Kirk gave you an order to
put
Plasus directly into the mines.”

Scott tilted his head to his left to give Gold a withering glance. “I did no such thing.” He straightened up. “I simply put him in his place.”

Carol cleared her throat. “Following what happened to Fabian, Bart and I did some extensive research on what was known about Stratos culture. What we found was somewhat…enlightening.”

Bart knew his cue but deferred from visuals. Everyone's attention turned to him. He leaned forward on the conference table and clasped his hands. “Most, if not all, of Stratos's scientific as well as cultural achievements were based on art. The flow of the city's architecture right down to the construction of the technology that runs the anti-gravity engines.

“How this was achieved was by accident in their own scientific laboratories during their experiments with genetic engineering. They were trying to create the perfect artisan, but instead created a parasite that would enhance their artistic abilities—supercharge them with that creative energy—and that parasite was what inspired Soske Busk to make his father's dream a reality.” He checked the padd in front of him. “If I recall, he was the first one to welcome the parasite.”

Gomez shook her head. “They enhanced themselves—creatively—with
parasites
?”

Bart nodded. He wasn't finished yet.
And wait till they hear what Elizabeth had found.
“The technology grew around the abilities of the parasites. So much so that much of the workings inside of Stratos were only accessible if you had them. We suspect the City Dwellers were in the process of weeding out the need for Troglyte workers in the city. But even that became a chore, and a group of watchers—or Sentinels—were engineered to have these parasites and basically run the city.”

“So they had the Troglytes mining on the surface, and Sentinels running the city for them.” Scott gave a short chuckle. “I'm not surprised it all fell apart.”

Carol continued from there. “What followed next was a cascade of social events. The Federation promised to work with the Troglytes in providing the masks necessary to mine the ore. The High Advisor took his complaints about Captain Kirk to the Appeals Board at Starfleet Command. When his case was dismissed—Kirk's actions deemed necessary to facilitate the protection of a subjugated peoples—Plasus withdrew Ardana from the Federation and forbade any Federation representatives to come to Stratos.”

Scott shifted in his seat. “That man was pure evil.”

“The Troglytes—no longer under the gas's influence—established their own central government on the planet and turned their efforts—with some help from the S.C.E. of the time—toward terraforming the planet.”

Gomez sighed. “Let me guess—that's when the war started. The one they call the Great Disruption.”

Carol nodded. “And it was a disruption. The Troglytes were in the midst of creating their own culture planet-side when the Ardanans attacked. Used their transmat technology for surprise attacks. Assassinated the Troglytes' elected High Advisor.”

Bart shook his head and sighed. He'd read the historicals as well. Remembered the bloodshed inflicted upon the Troglytes as families were murdered in their sleep, the Ardanan army appearing in their bedrooms and then leaving just as quietly.

He was glad Carol hadn't mentioned that little piece of Ardana's history.

“The Troglytes were nearly destroyed—until a new leader emerged. A descendant of Soske Busk, he led the revolt against Stratos by stealing the transmat technology—as well as a little of the Federation's own beaming capabilities. They used it to invade Stratos.” She stopped, her lips pulled thin in a grim expression. “Let's just say the body count rose significantly. The Troglytes only needed an occasional knife or stick to corral thousands of Ardanans in a corner and push them over the side.”

Everyone's positions shifted uncomfortably at the very thought of mass murder on such a scale or in such a fashion.

Carol pointed to the monitor again. A new picture replaced the rocky terrain with that of a street, busy with hovercar activities, bustling people in all sorts of costumes, even a few Starfleet uniforms. To the side was a market full of fresh fruit, and what Bart thought was a café, complete with wrought iron chairs. “This is the Ardana of today—a culture and technology similar to Earth's in the late twenty-second century. There are three main cities. First City, Lejico, and Droxana. Droxana is the capital, but because of its location to Stratos's position, First City is the main tourist center.”

Scotty spoke up. “From what I've gathered since arriving, the Ardana of today in no way resembles what existed a century ago. They're still rebuilding, and taking their time.” He stood and began a slow pace in front of the monitor. “They cut themselves off completely from Stratos after the rebuilding and reformation. Now it stands as a monument to what happened in the past. They use shuttles to take visitors by the city, flying in close range. As for the transmat system, it deactivated from non-use several decades ago.”

“So when you stepped on board,” Conlon began, “you and the
Edison
team were the first in more than a hundred years?”

He stopped and gave her a slow smile. “Aye, lass. And what an honor that was. But”—he looked at everyone—“all of you know what happened to poor Commander Alverson. During the years leading up to the
Enterprise
's arrival, the Troglytes' resistance force—the Disruptors—used terrorist tactics on Stratos, setting traps everywhere to hurt or maim, even kill the City Dwellers. They defaced works of art as well. As I told Captain Gold, the areas of main engineering and the control center have been examined. Alverson was investigating one of the larger buildings”—he glanced at Gold—“searching for something we're going to need to find.”

Pattie raised two of her arms. “I can assume you're referring to the engine schematics?”

All eyes turned to her. If a Nasat could blush, Pattie achieved it. “I figured when my request for the city's blueprints went unanswered it was something like that.”

Tev turned a shocked expression to Scotty. “You don't have the schematics for the engines?”

“There's no central computer?” Soloman asked.

“No, lad.” Scotty shook his head as he looked at the Bynar. “Nothing at all resembling what you or I would call a computer.” He pursed his lips, his mustache bristling. “Everything's running, or at least the main engines are. Some things came on as we investigated further. The lights, and heating—it's freezing at that altitude. We were able to identify the engines—simple makeup really. Massive graviton generators, similar to the ones we use in starships.”

Bart noticed Sarjenka shift in the back, her hand up. “Excuse me, but can I ask a question?”

Scotty gave the new recruit a smile. “Anything, lass.”

“How—” She shook her head. “Exactly how does that work?” She gestured with a nod to the monitor, indicating the picture of Stratos floating in the distance above the city street. “I've never seen anything like it.”

Scott appeared pleased to answer her question, only it was Tev who spoke up first. “A graviton generator forms the core of artificial gravity on a starship, akin to a cyclotron superconductor that generates the gravitons by spinning at a particular rate. When damaged, they slow down and the field weakens. Inertial dampeners are used to simulate ‘up' and ‘down,' even though those terms are functionally meaningless in space.”

“But in this instance, the direction of the gravitons define where down is,” Scotty interjected. All eyes turned to him. “We were able to establish that Stratos's underside creates anti-gravitons which create a
negative
gravity beneath the city. This in essence pushes the city off the ground.”

Conlon nodded slowly, then frowned. “But without any sort of central computer, how is this thing directed? How are diagnostics run? How do you pinpoint what's wrong?”

Scotty sighed again. “Now, lass, you see our delays. Those were the questions plaguing us when Alverson was injured. We can see the engines, we can understand what it is they're doing, only we don't know which buttons to push. We can't even find the buttons. And we don't know what's powering it. We do know the anti-gravitons are weakening—my educated guess is the engines are producing fewer of them.”

“Is the generator still spinning at the prescribed rate?” Tev asked.

Scotty's face split with the grin he gave the engineer. “Lad—if you can figure out exactly what the prescribed rate is, we'll be a quarter of the way to solving the problem.” He sighed. “It's spinning. We don't know how or why.”

“So you're no closer to finding out if the city even has landing capabilities,” Gold said.

“None that we could find.” He gave a short sigh. “And you know how the people of Ardana are handling that idea. The whole concept of landing the city has several groups of people in an uproar. If it touches Ardanan soil intact, a whole lot of people are threatening another war.”

“And it starts all over again,” Gold said.

“Aye,” Scotty said. “Several museums have been raided, and copies of the artifacts were stolen. But they were only copies—the museum in First City had the originals. I suspect Historian Vanov gave them to me just so they would be safe.”

Carol said, “So there are groups or factions that don't want Stratos landed and explored? Are these cultural mandates or religious beliefs?”

“A little of both,” Scotty said. “I saw a good bit of protesting, especially when the High Advisor hinted we might try and bring Stratos down. Most protestors were tourist venues—those that make their money off of Stratos's position. Vanov said there are two main factions—the ups and the downs.” He smiled. “Or that's what I called them. The side that wants the city down so it can be excavated and explored, and the side that wants it destroyed because of what it represents. No one's even listening to the business people who want it left right where it is.”

“Sounds familiar,” Carol said. “Some see it as an opportunity for advancement, and then there's the yin to the yang with those who fear it.”