Signs from Heaven

by Phaedra M. Weldon

  Well, that could be bad. Bart scratched at his stubbled chin. “That’s what’s happening now—with what the High Advisor is dealing with.”

  “Those who want it destroyed,” Vanov said, “verses those who want it preserved—only with control.” He smiled at Sonya. “Did you know that until the Edison arrived we didn’t have the transmat technologies? Their engineers fixed it for us—made us two new transmat pads.”

  With a glance at Carol, Bart rubbed at his face. Oh, yeah—he could see this train wreck coming a mile away.

  Vanov studied the door a few seconds more, then reached out to it and began feeling around the wood. “If it’s a vault of some sort, it should have a hidden panel about shoulder to eye level. Pressure on the door should open it.”

  “And then?”

  “And then…” His lips curled into a large smile. “Found it.” He pushed in.

  The panel receded into the wood, revealing two levers.

  “Wait.” Bart held up his hands. “Booby traps. You mentioned those. We need to be careful.”

  “Surely no one ever came down here to set them. The Disruptors usually left their mark where it could be seen.” Vanov shrugged. “I wouldn’t worry.”

  “All the same.” Corsi took a step forward. “I’d feel much safer if you’d let me open it.”

  “Nonsense,” Vanov said and put his hand into the recessed panel.

  Bart waited for the boom.

  Stratos’s main engineering sprawled over three levels, tiered out much like seating in a theater, but with each descending tier triple the size of the one above it. The group entered on the uppermost tier, descended to the second, or middle, tier where three podiums faced the final tier.

  All of this projected out over an open pit in the shape of a teardrop, visible from tier one. Air moved up in a continuous stream from the pit surrounding them, but to Fabian’s surprise, it didn’t create a deafening howl.

  Three Ardanan engineers moved up and down the tiers, checking readouts on their own form of padds and bowed to the da Vinci crew as they walked down the center stairway, mouths open in shock.

  “I can honestly say…” Fabian said as he stepped onto the third tier and looked up…and up…at the tall cylindrical obelisk standing in front of them at the platform’s edge. “That I have no idea how to make it go.”

  Pattie asked, “So what exactly are we looking at?”

  Engineer Dreena, a tall brunette woman whose physique and height could rival Corsi’s, smiled. “This is the handiwork of the great Busk. The Engineer of Stratos. He called it Soske.”

  Of course he did. Fabian pursed his lips. So which came first—the cylinder or the kid?

  “We identified the general components of the engine room,” Captain Scott said as he moved to stand in front of the monolith. “Imagine this as the warp core…”

  “Ah,” Tev said, quickly comprehending. “Deflector station over there, graviton generators over there.”

  “I can detect a faint purring sound,” Pattie said as she scanned.

  The others looked at one another and shook their heads. All but Fabian. He could hear…something. A buzzing between his ears, though with a cadence. He’d heard it since they walked into the cavernous room and the pain behind his eyes had intensified.

  He put his hand to his head.

  “It looks like a silo,” Pattie said.

  Fabian nodded inward. Yeah, a big, black scary silo.

  Dreena said, “We suspected the cylinder in front of you has something to do with the city’s main thrusters—moving it from place to place. It’s maintained this fixed position for some time, but it once glided on air.”

  Fabian looked around as well, his own tricorder out and running scans, though none of the information he received made sense. It was as if the tiny scanner’s probes were being bounced back to it.

  By looking up he guessed the ceiling had to be around a third of a kilometer high. The cylinder stood in the center of the room framed by a spherical wall. “If that theory holds true, then the thing’s got to have a steering wheel.”

  “Aye,” Scotty said. “We need to find out why the RPMs needed to maintain the right flow of anti-gravitons has fallen off.”

  Tev said, “Assuming that that is the reason why the city is falling, we shall need a schematic. It would be unfortunate if we proceeded blindly and accidentally shut the generators off completely.”

  “Yeah,” Fabian said, “that would be bad. I vote we don’t do that.” He looked at Scotty while nodding to the second tier. “Captain, what are those podiums for?”

  “I don’t know, lad. As far as we can tell, they’re observation posts.”

  Fabian was already moving up the steps to the center podium. He saw words along the upper left side of the flat, blank surface. They were raised from the material itself. The podium stood as high as his waist.

  He tapped his combadge. “Stevens to Faulwell.”

  “Faulwell here. I don’t hear us moving yet. Did you break something?”

  “No, but what are these?” He scanned the relief into the tricorder and sent it to Bart’s padd.

  “Ardanan letters.” He paused. “This is weird. It’s—oh, for the love of—”

  “What?”

  “Engineering kiosk system, orientation station.”

  Fabian nodded slowly. “Orientation station…”

  “Did that help you?”

  “Yes—yes it did. Or at least I think it did.”

  “Okay, I’ve got exploring to do. Faulwell out.”

  Fabian considered what Bart and Carol had said about the Sentinels, as well as what Dr. Lense told him about the parasites. Orientation station sounded like a focal point—a main consol. Vanov said the Sentinels controlled the city’s functions.

  He didn’t hear anything, nor did he see anything other than the flat, glossy surface. No dials. No switch. Not even a monitor. In fact, the entire podium reminded him of the artifacts in color, shape, and makeup.

  Sarjenka came up the stairs, her expression quizzical. “Did you find something?”

  “Dunno.” He looked at his hands and remembered what had happened in engineering when he’d touched the console there. “We’ll see.”

  She touched his left arm. “Look.”

  He looked where Sarjenka gestured. All of the Ardanan engineers were turned, facing the podium, their hands clasped together in front of them. “What are they staring at?”

  “You.” She glanced at the podium. “I guess they’re waiting to see if you’re really a Sentinel.”

  “Won’t know if I don’t try.”

  “Fabe, remember the theory I had, about stimulus making the parasites grow?”

  He was looking at the podium, studying its sides. “Um-hm.”

  “I know Dr. Lense doesn’t believe it’s a possibility, but I do. I’m not sure you should try and attempt anything.”

  He stopped what he was doing and looked at her. “Sarj, I’m here because I want to be. Because if the city isn’t halted, or moved, or destroyed, people will die below. I’m an engineer.” He shrugged. “Fixing things is what I do.”

  With a smirk he placed both his hands, palms down, on the surface of the podium.

  Nothing happened.

  “Well, I can’t say I’m surprised. How many Ardanan engineers have already touched these panels?” Sarjenka said.

  A light flashed in the center of the panel. Fabian stared at it. His hands grew warm as the light moved around the black surface, outlining his fingers. Once the light completed what Fabian suspected was a scan, the surface lit up in a mosaic masterpiece of color and light.

  The light traveled up into the air several inches before shifting away from Fabian. It spread itself up flat in the air in front of him before transforming itself into a colorful wire-framed grid. A holographic control center!

  Sarjenka gasped.

  Fabian looked at her. “You can see this?”

  She nodded, her eyes wide.

>   Neat.

  “Lad!”

  Fabian saw Scotty moving as quickly up the stairs as his frame would allow him. He was followed by Pattie, Lauoc, Krotine, and Tev. Dreena followed at a slower pace. The other Ardanan engineers were huddled in a tight circle below.

  “I think I turned it on.” He refocused on the image in front of him. “And—it looks like a blueprint.”

  The group spread out around him, Pattie moving to the podium on the right. “This one’s operating as well.”

  Tev strode to the left podium. “So is this one. Good work, Specialist.”

  Fabian grinned. A gratuitous compliment from His Royal Tevness. Will wonders never cease.

  The Tellarite touched the surface. Several images flashed up on the holographic screen in front of Fabian.

  Images of the city. Building exteriors mostly.

  “It’s a map!” Scotty said.

  Music, soft and playful, teased at the corners of Fabian’s hearing. He cocked his head to listen. “Shhh…” There it was. Echoing from somewhere in the city. “Pattie, touch the panel again. Let’s keep scrolling through.”

  Pattie touched the panel slowly as different images moved from right to left in front of them. Dreena approached and stood behind Fabian. “There,” she said and pointed to a building with no windows. “That is where your people are.”

  With a nod from Fabian she touched the screen several more times until they saw an image of the engine room—from above. Everyone looked up as if to see the camera.

  What caught Fabian’s attention was the layout of the tiers when seen from above. It looked like the ending of a peacock feather. It also looked like a button.

  Fabian lifted his right hand—the images and grid remained in front of him. Hesitantly he reached out and touched the building’s façade.

  The music’s volume increased with a crescendo as soft lights like rainbow fireflies moved around Fabian’s hands. Again he could see the plane before him, and recognized it now—the lines of a piece of sheet music!

  He had memories of his mother’s notebooks, full of music she’d inherited from her mother, and her grandmother. Lines and dots danced in front of him, spun and sang in his ears.

  It was loud. Too loud.

  He closed his eyes and the sheet music vanished, replaced by the image of a symphony orchestra. A thousand players, each reading the same music, working perfectly together. A smooth running engine.

  Except for one—one player in the middle. Everyone else’s colors synched perfectly, but not his. His color was red and the notes that played along the lines of music were staccato, mis-numbered, turning dark and angry.

  Abruptly that player rose in the air, as if the ship’s inertial dampeners were—

  He opened his eyes. “I know what’s wrong with the engine.” He turned to look at Captain Scott. “I know what the RPMs are—and I know how to fix it!”

  Chapter

  6

  It was like nothing Bart had ever seen before.

  Vanov had called this an archive. No. More like a museum.

  Most of the art hung on the walls, sat on pedestals, while others rested on individual dais like the one they had transported in on.

  What caught the group’s attention were the pieces obviously not part of the display. Sculptures, paintings, musical instruments, and books rested on the floor in a less than orderly fashion, propped against the walls or slung against one another.

  As if they’d been piled inside with haste.

  Vanov moved in the center of the path, not allowing his robes to brush any of the displayed pieces. He stopped a few feet ahead of them, his face expressionless.

  “It looks like they just threw some of this stuff in here,” Carol said as she and Gomez joined them.

  Corsi stood a few feet away, looking at a long, rectangular piece of art in a black frame. “I’m thinking they were in a hurry. Might have believed this museum was the safest place.”

  “Oh, this is definitely a display hall of some sort,” Carol said and she pointed to the walls and the artwork. “Or it belonged to a private collector. Whether it was owned by the city’s ruler or the richest man living in it—maybe even this Soske person—doesn’t matter. It does look like it was used to safely stow precious things.”

  Bart tried to think of what these people must have been thinking or feeling to have put what looked like family heirlooms in here. Thinking to come back to them someday.

  It looked as if no one ever returned.

  “It’s like old ghosts,” Gomez said from where she stood. Bart stood, wincing at his creaking knees, and ambled over to her.

  “Interesting description.”

  “Things like this also tell you about the sort of people they were.” Gomez pointed to the painting Corsi was looking at. It was mostly blue, with a black background, with hundreds of straight lines moving at ninety-degree angles. “Like this. I’d call this a practice in line making. Doesn’t really evoke any emotion.”

  “Might not mean to,” Carol said. “Looks like it’s part of something else too.”

  Bart nodded as he examined it. He believed Carol was right. It did look like it was more of a puzzle piece than a whole. And to add a bit more to the mystery, the name of Soske was printed in the lower right corner. Along with another word.

  Bart pulled out his padd and tapped in the word to his translator.

  It came back as So below.

  Interesting.

  “Hey, where’s Vanov?” Corsi nearly growled.

  Everyone looked around. But there was no sign of the Historian.

  “Great. Let’s find him before he trips one of these traps I keep hearing about.”

  “She’s right,” Bart said as the group started to follow her. “Art is where the Disruptors usually struck. As a way to get back at the City Dwellers.”

  They stopped where the hallway branched in opposite directions. Corsi called out for the Ardanan, but there was no answer, only the echo of her voice. “I don’t like this.”

  Bart looked down each of the corridors, both filled with displayed as well as scattered pieces. “This is a fine mess we’ve gotten ourselves into.”

  “Well,” Carol said, “common sense would suggest there would either be another door leading out, or these hallways merge into one, forming a sort of loop.”

  “How far back does it go?” Gomez asked.

  Carol shook her head. “I really don’t have a way of knowing. The tricorder’s range is limited. One of us could go back outside and keep trying until we hit the end of it.”

  Bart half smiled. “Do we follow the yellow brick road through the cornfield, or mayhaps into the haunted forest?”

  “Bart…” Carol nudged him.

  “Maybe we should split up,” Gomez said. “Corsi, you, Rennan, and Bart take the left. Carol, Makk, and I will try right. Common sense suggests these two would meet in the middle.”

  Carol beamed.

  Corsi took the right hallway and Bart followed, Konya behind both of them. Bart kept his tricorder out and ready. Corsi already had her phaser out—he hoped set on stun.

  Looking down at the tricorder, Bart noticed he could pick up signatures inside of the vault but not outside. He could detect Corsi just ahead of him, and—

  “Commander,” Konya said, “Ardanan ahead of us by thirty meters.”

  She nodded and kept her position in a sort of “ready” crouch. You know, just in case the art-loving Ardanans decided to bean us with a valuable piece of statuary.

  “Took you mooks long enough,” came Makk Vinx’s distinctive Iotian tones as the three of them rounded a corner.

  “So here’s the party,” Bart said. It was just as Carol had suspected—the hallways led back to a central room. Vanov was oohing and ahing over a series of rectangular paintings that appeared to move around the entire room. Two mounted on each of the entrance walls, and three on the opposing walls.

  “Your hallway was longer,” Gomez said. She nodded to
Vanov. “Apparently this is definitely a private collection and we’re standing in the showroom.”

  “Showroom?” Corsi shrugged her shoulders. “There’s just this weird collection of odd-colored pictures. Why show these? They look like that one at the entrance.”

  Corsi moved away from them toward a series of lights along the right wall. Bart had noticed them too—odd circles cut into the wall. He’d assumed they were accent lights as they lined up along with the paintings on the opposite wall.

  But now as he looked at their spacing, he realized they lined up with only the paintings with titles.

  “Corsi—” he started.

  At that instant she stood between two of the holes and touched one of the paintings as if to brace herself.

  He heard it before it launched—the thud of a trigger mechanism releasing.

  Without thinking Bart flung his padd away and lunged at Gomez, Carol, and Vanov, tackling them all to the ground just as something whizzed past.

  “Bart!” Gomez yelled out.

  Carol shoved him away as did Vanov. Bart moved back but continued to stare at something, his eyes wide at what he saw.

  “What is wrong with you?” Carol said. “What did you—”

  But Gomez had turned to see what Bart stared at and reached out with a shaking hand to touch her shoulder. “Carol.” She pointed.

  Carol turned and slapped her hands to her mouth.

  Sticking out of the middle painting was a shiny, steel pole.

  “Bart just saved your life,” Corsi said in the ensuing silence. “Looks like we found a Disruptor trap.”

  Fabian stared at Scotty for a moment before answering his question. “No, sir. I’m not sure why I see the images I do, or hear what I do. Maybe it’s the parasite taking what’s there and translating it into a way so that I can read the diagnostic controls.”