Signs from Heaven (5 page)

“W
ell.”
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 door 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.”

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.”