Signs from Heaven

by Phaedra M. Weldon

  “Doctor, you’re telling us Fabian didn’t eat or drink for nearly twenty-four hours?” Bart frowned.

  Lense nodded. “Odd, isn’t it?”

  Bart gave her a half smile. “It’s a sin. Fabian never misses a meal—and still manages to keep that girlish figure.”

  She frowned at him, then smiled before looking back to Gold. “If you look here”—she pointed to the monitor—“the dendrites have extended their reach—not yet past the two regions they seem to have taken residence in.”

  Gold tilted his head to his left shoulder as he folded his arms over his chest. “Why? I thought you said they were stable.”

  “I believed they were. But something happened from the time I last examined him to when he came back. Now, the only thing I know of was what happened in engineering. Sarjenka believes it’s the stimulus.”

  “Stimulus?”

  “From the inputs to the hypothalamus.” She shrugged. “I don’t know for sure. This thing has me stumped.”

  Bart glanced back at Sarjenka. She was still standing beside Fabian’s bed and it appeared he was awake and talking.

  Gold spoke up. “Lense, what happens if they do move past those two regions?”

  “That’s what has me a little worried. Because these dendrites are working as cross-talking agents, I suspect if they begin branching out into other regions they will begin to rewire his brain functions.” She looked directly at Gold. “I just don’t know if what happened in engineering is what stimulated the dendrites or if they did this on their own.”

  Gold looked up through the glass of the lab. “I need to know if he’s fit to beam down to Stratos with us.”

  Lense shrugged. “I can release him. I only kept him here because I wanted to keep an eye on him.”

  Gold, Scott, Bart, and Lense left the lab and went back to Fabian, who was awake and sitting up. He smiled at the others and then gave Bart a wince. “What is it with you always hanging about?”

  “Because I’m the prettiest,” Bart said with a wink. “Corsi was here for a while. Held your hand. Whispered sweet nothings.”

  “No, she didn’t,” Fabian said.

  “Stevens,” Gold said, “we have the go-ahead and we’re beaming down to Stratos at sixteen hundred hours. I know the doctor’s explained to you what’s happening in your head, and Faulwell and Abramowitz have gone over what the use of a Sentinel was for—”

  “I’d love to go, Captain.” He beamed. “Wouldn’t miss this opportunity.”

  “Good.” Captain Gold glanced at each of them. “Meet in the transporter room then. Oh, and dress warm.” He and Scott left sickbay.

  Fabian looked around the room. “How much time do I have before we go?”

  Bart checked the chronometer. “About half an hour.”

  Pulling the sheets from his legs Fabian bounded out of bed—and stopped.

  Bart looked at him. “Yes—?”

  “Wow. I feel good. Full stomach. Rested.”

  “Seeing colors?”

  Fabian shook his head. “No, but I do need my slippers. ” He sat back down and pushed his bare feet into the slippers by the bed.

  Sarjenka smiled. Fabian turned to look at her. “You coming, Sarj?”

  “Oh, yes. I’ve been assigned to keep an eye on you if you decided to go. Which means I need to get ready.” She leaned forward and gave Fabian a quick kiss on his forehead. With a smile to Bart she hurried out of sickbay.

  There was a brief silence. Then. “She kissed me.”

  “Yeah—I noticed she waited until Corsi was gone, too.”

  “She kissed me.” Fabian turned a stricken face at him as he stood. He snatched up his discarded uniform from the neighboring bed and stalked toward the door. “Why are they doing that? I don’t get it. What is up with kissing me? Am I shaving too close? Do I have a sign on me that says ‘Kiss me—I want Dom to kick me out an airlock’?”

  The doors opened and shut.

  Bart stared after his roommate. They?

  Chapter

  4

  Gomez’s team assembled in the transporter room: Bart and Carol, Corsi and her four-person team of Makk Vinx, Rennan Konya, Lauoc Soan, and Ellec Krotine. Pattie would be joining them, as well as Tev. Fabian and Sarjenka made up the back end.

  Captain Scott had beamed down earlier.

  First impressions aside, Fabian shivered twice after transporting onto a high, blue marble-floored dais. He’d never been a real fan of heights, and the abrupt view of the planet below from the less-than-

  protected railing nearly set him into a fit of vertigo.

  Scotty, also bundled up in a thick Starfleet parka, welcomed them. A tall, thin man in noticeably thinner clothing stood dutifully beside Scotty. He had long, full, thick hair pulled back in an intricate plait. This guy had to be an Ardanan. Fabian rubbed his chin. Huh…maybe Ardanans have a higher tolerance to cold?

  “Welcome to Stratos,” Scott said as he held his arms out. “I’d like to introduce Historian Vanov.”

  Gomez approached the Ardanan first and shook his hand. “Commander Sonya Gomez. It’s very nice to meet you, Historian Vanov.”

  “Just Vanov is fine. The only one that has any meaningful title is the High Advisor.”

  Fabian glanced at Bart. Had he noticed the odd catch in Vanov’s voice when he mentioned the Advisor? Or was he imagining things?

  As the others introduced themselves, Fabian tilted his head back and listened. Whispers. It sounded like a dance in another room—or in a neighboring house.

  “I must say I am most impressed with meeting you, Specialist Blue,” Vanov said. “I regret not many Nasats visit our world.”

  The rhythm wasn’t as steady as he’d first thought. It skipped. Paused. Started again. And then it was lost. It came back again. All like fleeting ghosts in his mind.

  “And this,” Scott said as he lead Vanov to where Fabian had remained rooted beside the stairs. “Is Mr. Fabian Stevens.”

  Fabian opened his eyes.

  Vanov’s eyes widened. He held out his hands and Fabian offered him his right one. The Historian held it—actually cradled it—in his hands. “Captain Scott has told me what happened—we’ve heard so many stories of the Sentinels of Stratos—and now you possess their power.”

  Gomez moved closer to Fabian, her attention centered on Vanov.

  Fabian grew a tad uncomfortable. “Power?”

  “Why, yes—when the aristocrats of Stratos no longer welcomed the parasite into their own bodies and kept it only for the Sentinels, they were the ones who protected the city. They were the keepers of the City Dwellers. Such power…they could shut the city down, move it, or raise it.”

  “They could?”

  Vanov nodded. “Or so the legends go.”

  From several meters away, Pattie said, “Vanov, I have a question.”

  Vanov bowed, released Fabian’s hand, and moved away.

  Captain Scott approached Fabian as he wiped his hand against his jacket. Fabian asked, “What is up with that guy?”

  Captain Scott looked more than worried—to Fabian he looked guilty. “Lad, worry not about it. Vanov is something of a closet zealot. He’s one of those in favor of preserving Stratos, whether on the ground or in the air. His ancestors were the ones that took the artifacts from Stratos.” He glanced back at Vanov talking to Pattie. He leaned in close. Gomez and Fabian leaned in as well. “I did notice after I told him about what happened to poor Fabian here, he and the other engineers have been more than…quiet.”

  “I wonder why,” Gomez said as she straightened up. She pulled at her lower lip on thought.

  Scott nodded to Fabian. “Have you heard anything? Or sensed anything?”

  “Something—but it’s distant. Sort of weak. Almost like one of those old mill wheels—the kind with the water turning it? Only there isn’t much water left.”

  “Keep listening, and the moment you see something or hear something, let me know.”

  Scotty moved away towar
d Vanov.

  Abruptly Fabian and Sonya were alone. Together. Again.

  Fabian watched Sonya—until she noticed him watching her. Until that moment she’d been deep in thought. Now her eyes widened and she started to turn away.

  “Please.” He reached out and touched her shoulder. “Sonya, stop running.”

  That made her pause, and she turned a sharp expression to him. “I’m not running.”

  He laughed. “Well, you’re doing a great impression of someone running while they’re not running.” He gave her a thumbs-up.

  “I’m sorry. I guess it’s been tough. But things are looking up. After that nonsense with Portlyn last month, I went to dinner with Brilson.”

  Fabian grinned. “Lodine? From the outpost?”

  Gomez nodded. “He’s nice—his taste in entertainment is a little unfortunate, though. He has this huge collection of holographic remasterings of really awful twenty-first-century films.” She sighed. “I don’t know if it’ll go anywhere, but the dinner was nice.”

  “Good, I’m glad.”

  She smiled at him. “Thanks, Fabe.”

  “No problem.” He looked over her head. “Well, the others are walking off. Shall we join them?”

  She nodded. He pulled his parka closer to him and they went to catch up.

  The walls were smooth, whipped clean by the winds, as were the floors. If there had been any bodies left in this open veranda after the final battle of Stratos, they had long ago been taken by the elements.

  Walls moved and sloped, bent and dipped outward from the dais. Pattie’s tricorder gave a faint hum as she scurried from place to place, her legs making whispering noises against the marble.

  “The structure of this place is incredible,” she said as she went about her work. “Commander Gomez, I am picking up several slight variations in structural thickness along the north and west wings of the city—the same places I detected weakening foundations from my scans on board the da Vinci.”

  Gomez nodded as she stopped in the center of the first open area. “Those are the pressure points Nancy was worried about. As for the city itself, it’s beautiful. All of it.”

  Vanov nodded as he moved to stand beside her. “Stratos was said to have been the home to thousands of priceless works of art—a collection to rival any in the galaxy.” He sighed. “Once we were an artistic race.”

  “But you still are,” Pattie said as he scurried close.

  “No, we’ve lost so much since the Disruption. Even certain arts in the building.” He pointed to the blue marbled wall in front of them. “This wall is fashioned entirely of blue gastion,” Vanov said as he pointed to the ceiling. “Its molecular weight has an astounding binding property when introduced to higher altitudes.”

  Pattie moved closer and touched it with several of her front legs. “It’s warm!”

  “It’s getting warmer,” Scotty said as he moved closer. “The city senses when certain areas are occupied, so it’s sending power to the walls and floor to heat the cold. Since it was empty for nearly a day most of the city has cooled back down—except for the engine room. As well as the central control.”

  As they neared the front of the building Scott turned to face them. “Here is where we’re going to split up. Since we don’t have an accurate map of the city itself, we’re going to have to make it up as we go along. We don’t have a cartographer, so pay attention. Keep your tricorders on record to remember which way you turned. I’ve already downloaded what maps we have made during the Edison’s stay here into your tricorders and padds. Other than the engine room, Captain Gold and I have a strong suspicion what we’re looking for is in the vault where Alverson was attacked.”

  Everyone nodded. Fabian especially. That was a good location to avoid.

  Scott turned to Gomez. Even though Scotty was the ranking officer here, Gomez was in charge of the S.C.E. team, and he deferred to her for command of the mission.

  “I’ll take Bart, Carol, and Vanov to the vault. According to the reports, more Disruptor traps have been found and dismantled, but we’ll be on the lookout for more. Tev, Pattie, Fabian, and Sarj will go with Captain Scott to engineering. Domenica, I’ll let you split your people as you see fit.”

  Corsi moved to stand in front of the group. “Lauoc and Krotine go with Captain Scott’s group. Vinx, Konya, you’re with me and Commander Gomez.”

  The security people took their places.

  Gomez said, “Soloman’s standing by on the da Vinci waiting for a signal if we find any computer systems or something remotely resembling one, and Laura has locks on all our combadges in case of trouble.”

  Scotty rubbed his hands together. “Like Vanov said about the heated walls and floor, the lights will come on—if they’re still active—in whatever section you move into.”

  Gomez nodded. “Let’s make regular check-ins. Okay, head out.”

  Fabian closed his eyes. The whispering noise was a little stronger now, and a slight twinge of pain behind his eyes took his attention away. He felt a presence beside him and opened his eyes to see Corsi standing there, as well as Sarjenka.

  “You okay?” the security chief asked. Concern showed behind her beautiful eyes. “Or are you feeling guilty for whatever it was you did to Sonya?”

  Fabian slumped his shoulders and lowered his head. “Okay. Yes. It’s guilt. I made her laugh.” He reached out and took her jacket in his hands. “Please…forgive me!”

  Gomez cleared her throat from across the room. Their party was gathered at the main entrance waiting on Corsi. Scotty waited a few feet beyond them for Fabian and Sarjenka.

  Fabian put a hand on Corsi’s shoulder. “I’m fine—and I haven’t done anything asinine to Commander Gomez.”

  She didn’t say anything, but turned and walked away.

  “I didn’t do anything…”

  Chapter

  5

  “Well.” Bart looked up at the fourteen-foot door. It was a nice door. All big and huge and impressive. Dark wood, buffed and polished. No oil residue. No sign of age either—none that he could see. Or any tell-tale evidence of weathering.

  But then again, they were several floors below what Carol referred to as “cloud level.” They’d huddled down a series of streets lined by what Bart could only call brownstones of a sort—the kind he remembered seeing on Earth, in Manhattan. These were nicer—not made of brick, but what looked like shining marble. Very impressive.

  The path Alverson and company had taken led them to a large house down a one-way street. Bart hadn’t seen any sort of vehicles—not even a bus. How had these people gotten from place to place? Walked?

  Either way, it was hard to believe they were actually on a platform in the air. Except for the wind—how had they dealt with all this wind?

  The street ended at an impressive-looking building. All squared with no windows. Not a single one, which differed somehow from the other buildings they’d passed. Even the shops had open fronts.

  This thing looked sealed up tight.

  Vanov understood the opening mechanism for the front and opened it, though Corsi had insisted on her, Vinx, and Konya entering first.

  Vanov had pointed to a series of familiar letters on the door. Soske Busk, the son of the city’s creator. There were many buildings named after him and his wife.

  Just inside was where Alverson had set off the trap. There were scraps of medical supplies everywhere—and was that blood on the floor?

  Vanov led them down three flights of stairs. The longer they were inside the warmer it became. Just as Scott said it would. By the time the group moved out into a hallway, several removed their jackets.

  It was down this hallway the group had found the door, and stopped.

  Vanov remained in front of them, his hands on his face. He looked as if he’d just seen the face of his god.

  And what was that smell? It reminded Bart of old, unwashed shoes. “That’s a door.”

  “And it doesn’t appear to have any visible d
oor handles either.” Carol frowned at Bart. “Isn’t that odd?”

  He shrugged. “Maybe it’s like an Aladdin door? Open sesame and all that?”

  Carol sighed.

  Bart grinned and held out his hands. “Mellon!”

  Carol gave him a lopsided grin. “You really are nervous.”

  “Scared out of my wits,” Bart said as he peeled off his jacket. “I’m not in the habit of looking for traps.” He couldn’t help but be reminded of the trap that killed his parents when he was young, the same one that had killed the first real love of his life.

  Yes. He was nervous all right.

  “I’m afraid I don’t know the reference,” Vanov said and approached the door in reverence, much the way he’d bowed to Fabian.

  Which Bart found just too odd.

  Sonya moved up to stand beside the Historian. “Vanov, what exactly is the fight about below? About Stratos?”

  Vanov turned to her, his expression resigned. “Stratos has always been in the sky, for as long as I can remember. Much of the history after the Disruption is more muddled up—there are several groups who believe it’s been forgotten or hidden on purpose.”

  “The history of Stratos?”

  “The technology,” Vanov said. “When you don’t know the answers to the past you make up wild stories about it. No one today can build such a structure, much less make it hover in the sky. We build shuttles, simple propulsion engines, and smaller anti-gravity devices.” He held his hands out and looked up. “But nothing like this.”

  “You mean some of your people believe the technology was hidden to prevent another Stratos?”

  Vanov nodded. “Still others—those in the majority—believe the city should be kept in the heavens but studied, and its technologies brought back to her people.” He held up a finger. “That is where the real division exists.”

  Bart had been listening and now moved closer, as did Carol.

  “Division as to who owns the technology?” Carol frowned.

  “Not so much like that,” Vanov said. “But a division of fear. Those who fear the technology will be used only for a select few, and those who believe the technology will destroy what we’ve rebuilt.” He shook his head. “I’m afraid those who wish the city destroyed have been growing in increasing numbers through the past decade. Their prophets and seers have foretold the falling of Stratos for decades.”