I finally got a chance to read this story and it's definitely caught my interest. I like how you're switching from "distant" future with Joe Smith and "near" future and "present"(?) with Picard and Vash--although I don't think Picard is going to set things in motion so much as Vash--she's always the more impulsive of the two. You've also done a good job painting a rather surrealistic scene of an Earth that had been devastated--although it appears that what the Iconians did was devastating only to the human population which tells me that it might have been a bioweapon. The attack had to have been sudden and without warning--in many ways, you're evoking scenes of Pompeii where people are still gathered around their dinner tables or sitting on park benches or posing for pictures... I'm enjoying this one.
What have they done? You think Picard would learn after his experience with Q about destroying the Federation. Some people never learn. Fab stuff
I'm going to SF for a week-so I'm going to post a bit more before I leave. I won't have access to what I already have written so it will be late next week before I can post again(well, after Saturday)-anyway, here's Chp 5. CHAPTER FIVE Picard stepped into the chamber, his mouth open. “My God, Vash. It looks like Iconian technology!” Vash nodded her head but it went unnoticed. “Jean-Luc, if it is, then we’ve found the motherlode! There is no Iconian technology, there are no artifacts left intact.” She stepped into the room and stopped behind him. “Can you imagine the looks on those stuffed shirts at the Daystrom Institute when an amateur archeologist and, well, me, we reveal the first working piece of Iconian tech ever found? They will crap their pants.” Picard pulled his eyes away from the tall crystal pylon in the center of the room long enough to glance at Vash, a smile on his lips. “I am far more interested in what we might learn about their culture from this. I will leave it to you to rub the stodgy noses into the muck.” Vash grinned back at him, her hands gently rubbing his shoulders. “That’s why I keep coming back to you, Jean-Luc. I love your sense of perspective.” He patted her hand. “I have to see what this is.” His voice was absent-minded at best. Vash just smiled as he walked forward. ******************************************* Riker was fretting and he knew it. The away team had found several booby traps as they entered the cave and each one they reported made him wince. They had already lost one member of their team. Seven was finding the more advanced devices and Ipsita had dug a number of mechanical tricks out. Lt. Adams reported in and let Riker know they could see the launcher. He advised them needlessly to proceed with caution. As Ipsita crawled the last few meters she caught a glimmer of light, a mere flash or reflection, coming from the back of the cave behind the launcher. She paused, poised and ready, but nothing happened. Inching forward, her knife probing the dirt in front of her the whole time, she crawled to the launcher. Sweat was beading on her face as she checked for traps around the launcher itself. She was completely startled when a voice behind the launcher said, “Hi. What year is this?” ************************************* Picard examined the console interface around the crystalline tower that lifted upwards towards the ceiling of the chamber. As time passed, Vash began to wander around the room, obviously bored. “Are you going to be much longer, Jean-Luc?” she asked. “Please, Vash, this isn’t something you just walk up to and read. You should know that.” Picard answered the question, but he was very obviously distracted. “Well, I’m going to see what’s in the other chambers!” her tone was a bit petulant, but Picard never noticed. “Yes, yes, by all means,” he murmured. Vash waited a moment to see if he had anything more to say and when he didn’t she flounced out of the room. He barely paid attention. She wandered back into the main hall and headed for the next chamber, her eyes darting left and right as she walked. As she entered a dim light gave way to further brightness. “This technology is amazing,” she mumbled to herself. Then her eyes took in the contents of the second chamber and she stopped, stunned. When the shock had passed she spun on her heel and raced back to Picard. “Jean-Luc, you need to see this!” Picard was bent over the Iconian apparatus, carefully examining the controls or interface or whatever it was. He half glanced up at her as she re-appeared, more than a bit distracted. “What?” he asked. Vash looked exasperated. “Jean-Luc, you’d better see this. I found humans!-well, sort of.” Intrigued, Picard followed her over to the next chamber. There were several rows of glass tanks within. Snapping open his tricorder, Picard began walking along the lines of what seemed to be- “Human embryos. The tricorder confirms it. These are some kind of suspension apparatus. The contents are being held in a form of stasis.” Vash rolled her eyes. “I got that, Jean-Luc. The question is-Why are they here?” Picard stared down at his tricorder for a moment longer and then raised his head in surprise. “My God, Vash! These embryos, I’ve scanned the DNA and checked them against the records in my tricorder. These aren’t natural human embryos. These are augments.” He looked at her in amazement. “Vash, if my scans are correct, these are embryos dating from the Eugenics War era! They are perfectly preserved and I believe they are even more advanced than the Children of Shiva.” Vash looked at him peculiarly. “The Children of Shiva? I know quite a bit about ancient history on many worlds but recent Earth history doesn’t do much for me. What were they?” “The Children of Shiva was the name of the follow-up to the program that produced Khan and the others that came to power in the years leading up to the Eugenics War. I’ve studied the biological files and these embryos are far beyond what was developed back then. They are at least a generation more advanced.” Picard glanced at Vash curiously. “Why do you suppose the Preservers have these here?” Vash just shrugged and headed out to the main chamber. Picard continued to record information on the augmented embryos. A few moments later Vash reappeared with a very confused look on her face. “Jean-Luc, if you think this is weird, well, you’d better come see this.” Something in her tone made Picard look at her with what she privately thought of as his “on duty” face. Without asking any questions he followed her out of the side chamber. She led him to the next chamber in line and stopped outside of it, her arm pointing inwards. Picard noticed a slight tremble in her demeanor. He walked in and was greeted by another set of embryo containers. Scanning, he walked inside. “Klingon-Human augments. I’ve read the files on these. Mid twenty-second century. A medical solution gone wrong. But once again, they are a bit more advanced than the originals.” He looked up from the tricorder at Vash. “What have we found?” She shrugged and walked to the fourth chamber. Picard followed her, curious. They entered the fourth chamber side by side. Picard held his tricorder at arm’s length. Again, the room was lined with glass stasis chambers. Each one held an embryo. Vash looked at Picard. “What are they, Jean-Luc?” Picard studied his read-outs. “Romulan Sophonts. Just like Earth, Romulus had a rather,” Picard struggled for the right words, “dark period in regards to genetic experimentation.” Vash watched his face. He seemed to be straining to explain. Vash wondered what interest in the Romulans held Picard’s fascination. “The Sophonts were designed to be advanced versions of Romulans. They had many of the mental abilities of the Vulcan root stock. Sadly, the majority went insane after a few years. Most failed to survive childhood, and even those that did were operating,” he sighed, “in an unstable manner later in life.” “None of these genetic types seemed to work well-why would the Preservers, well, preserve them?” Vash was genuinely puzzled. “I don’t know,” Picard replied. “Let’s see what’s in the last chamber.” He gestured towards the final doorway. Vash walked towards it hesitantly. “Jean-Luc, this is really strange. Why would the Preservers save failed experiments?” Picard paused a moment in the outer chamber. “They may have seen these as alternatives if the original seed race was destroyed. Or perhaps they had some other motive. I really couldn’t say for sure.” They stepped into the fifth side chamber. Picard held his tricorder up. “How odd,” he said, “These are normal Vulcan embryos.” Vash glanced at him in surprise. “Why would they put unaltered Vulcan embryos with these, these, well, freaks?” Vash didn’t even notice Picard’s faint wince. “I don’t know,” he declared, “but I intend to figure this out.” Vash sighed. “Of course you do, Jean-Luc.” *********************************
Curiouser and curiouser. And who's asking for the year the way someone might inquire of the weather or time of day? I have my suspicions, but I'll keep them to myself for now.
Augments from different races...why does this not sound good? What has Picard and Vash stumbled into?
Just had a chance to catch up with this story, Mistral, and you’ve got me hooked. You’ve got three mysteries rolled into one, in a fast-paced narrative that’s very engaging. I’m really enjoying your descriptive visuals, such as the detail of the Vulcan remains in the SFA Library and the wild vegetation on the academy grounds. I’m eagerly awaiting more!
Yeah, Jean-Luc, you go and figure this out please and then be kind enough to tell us what's going on here. Because right now this is a total head scratcher. Although quite a good one.
Thanks a bunch!! it's hard enough trying to read and catch up on the stories here and then I have to work out all the complications and different time periods and plots and characters and intrigue and questions met only with more questions and seemingly unconnected segments and voices calling in the dark what year is it? and so on and so forth. Again, thanks a bunch! Love it really tho!
and so, after a week in San Francisco, I have returned to my normal life-I'll be catching up on everyone else's stuff in the next few days but first-here's the next chapter in my opus magnus: CHAPTER SIX The console powered up again with little trouble. Joe pressed the control labeled “Privacy Shield” and the voice once again spoke. “Privacy shield established.” A glow emanated from a small diadem near the top edge of the control board. A flickering image, three dimensional, formed in the air above it. Joe looked at it in astonishment. It was a shoulders-and-head image of Data, the android Starfleet officer, although it was attired in what could only be described as a robe or toga. “What is the nature of your inquiry?” it asked in Federation standard. The voice was soft and caring, resonating in frequencies that most humanoid species found comforting and non-threatening. Its effect was lost on Joe, only being of interest on an intellectual level. “Please describe the circumstances leading to the devastation of Earth.” Joe figured he might as well start in a general fashion and narrow his questions as he learned more. The image of Data seemed to peer at him a moment. “The Earth is currently a viable Class-M planet supporting three billion humans and a varying population of other Federation member species numbering approximately two hundred thousand.” Joe shook his head and thought for a moment. “Please recite the final or most recent entry made into the library records.” Data’s image was replaced with that of a Vulcan male’s. The man had dried blood along one side of his face and his clothing was dirty and torn. “My name is Suvon. I am the Head Librarian. The stardate is…” For a moment his voice trailed off. “Due to the cranial injury I have suffered I am unable to state the date. The Iconians are attacking Earth as I speak. I will attempt to record this message on as many of the library kiosks as possible in the hopes of preserving my knowledge. If you are seeing this, ask the kiosk to open file M-47 Suvon for a full explanation of recent events and background information on the unfortunate choices that led to the current state of affairs.” The image vanished, replaced once more with that of the android’s. Joe thought about the Vulcan skeleton he had found in the third kiosk. “Computer,” Joe said, “Please open file M-47 Suvon.” “Would you like the data relayed verbally or on screen?” Joe paused for a second. “On screen,” he replied, “At decispeed if you are capable of that.” The file opened and words flowed at a rapid rate. Joe bent over to read the Head Librarian’s information file on the end of the Earth as Joe had known it. It was a lengthy entry and darkness had long since fallen when Joe was finished. *********************************** Joe lifted his view from the console. The only illumination was that coming from the hologram of Data and the kiosk control board so it took a moment before Joe caught movement off in the darkness. Adjusting his vision frequencies, he peered out into the lobby and was startled to realize a semi-circle of humanoid figures was formed just beyond the edge of the kiosk’s lighting. He refined his perception and made out what looked like humans, most of whom were dressed in one-piece clothing. “Hello,” he said. Unsure of where to go from there he hesitated. The figures edged backwards away from the light a few feet. A low moan came from them. Joe stood up and they all jerked back into the darkness. Joe shifted to straight infrared vision and made out a few of the faces. They were all human. Their hair was unkempt and their clothing, although obviously some derivative of a Starfleet uniform in general design, was generally torn and frayed, patched with simple fabrics like wool and cotton.. “Hello,” Joe said again. He was met with a babble of voices out of the dark but he could not make out what they were saying. As he stood there in the kiosk, bathed in the light of the console, the words washed over him. His processors took a while to filter what he was hearing. It was only when his language subroutines kicked in that he realized they were trying to communicate with him but they were using a mélange of languages without rhyme or reason. Vulcan, Standard, Chinese, Klingon and dozens of other languages washed over him. He stared at them for several minutes until it hit him like a blast of cold water over the head. They couldn’t speak just one language. After centuries of living in a world where the universal translator was commonplace, the people had absorbed the words but not the individual language. Their minds, as children, had picked up random words in a multitude of languages, understanding only because of the translators. Then, after the translators had gone away, the survivors had used what their ears had heard, what their brains had recorded. Civilization hadn’t died with the Iconian attack here on Earth-it had died when the translators had failed and created a true state of Babel. Those who survived probably couldn’t speak to one another. Only now, after centuries of evolution, were they developing a common means of communication. Joe stood and let his processors do their work. The translation took time and Joe felt almost foolish as he stood waiting. Eventually the words came. ********************************* “Take away the Demons! Help us warp to the stars! Banish the Demons of Air and Darkness! Bring back the Makers of food!” The pleas for help rose in volume and the people grew bolder, moving closer to Joe. He started feeling hemmed in. “The Holy Fleet shall prevail! Are you the Captain?” Joe grew more uncomfortable. Hands began tugging at his shirt and pant legs. “Where are the Vulcans? They will save us!” Joe began edging backwards. “Has the ship been restored? Are you the Captain?” Joe pulled himself free and, dodging and twisting, fled the building. Their cries echoed in his auditory processors. The night hid him from the desperate creatures that pursued and he eventually scrambled through the Science Museum entrance and crouched behind the remains of the ancient Mercury Seven capsule. The howling mob flowed past the building. Joe waited a few minutes to make sure there weren’t any stragglers before he stood up. He began looking around the main floor. Phoenix hung from the ceiling, somehow spared during the Iconian attack. She looked much as she had centuries before, when Joe’s memory banks had been compiled. Most of the rest of the hanging displays had come crashing down over the years. The Delta Flyer(mock-up) was in pieces all across the lobby, the shuttle Enterprise dangled from a single wire, many of her heat tiles missing, the T’Chir had fallen and moldered since the attack and was barely recognizable amidst the chunks of roofing and churned-up floor. Joe was hardened to the general destruction and barely noticed as he climbed over the Thor capsule en route to the basement archives. That was where Suvon had suggested any possible solution to the current situation might lie. No turbolifts still held power but the Grand Staircase was clear enough of debris for Joe to proceed. He marched down into the darkness. ************************************
Fascinating take on post-modern Federation standard, a mish-mash of dozens of languages only made coherent through the use of the UT. That was a very creepy scene, nicely done! I kept waiting for the assembled people to start crooning, “Waaaaaaaalker! Waaaaaaalker!” before trying to put a bird-hat on Joe’s head.
VERY nice idea, with the Universal Translator! It's different from the way I imagine the Translator and its use (something you'll probably see more of whenever I start posting my civilian story), but I think your idea just as validly addresses the potential complications that would come along with having such an invention. Ohh...and it's a small detail, but you had a very clever choice of words when you described part of the museum: "the Grand Staircase". That's a term I usually heard in association with the Titanic, so just that mere mention evokes images of something decayed and lost to time, and the hubris of a civilization that thought it could do anything.
Mistral Between real-life obligations and a week-long power outage caused by the remnants of hurricane Ike, my online reading time has been very sporadic as of late. Well tonight, I had some time so I decided to check out this story. I'm very glad I did. Bravo! This is quite the intriguing epic you've got going! And you're using my absolute favorite character -- Vash! You're utilizing the Vash character, as well as all the characters, in an extremely adept manner. I am thoroughly enjoying this very well written story. Thank you for posting and I can't wait to see where you go with this. You think. That is one of the things that makes the Vash character so much damn fun to write! Warmest Wishes, Whoa Nellie
Oh, so now The Doctor knows what happened but you decided to keep that from the reader? That's a bit of a dirty trick, isn' it? The Earth survivers were a sad sight indeed and a testament of how intertwined technology was in their lives.
Wow, there are many mysteries here, especially with what may have happened to the Earth! And why would the Iconians attack? I am certainly waiting in anticipation for more...
And what happens when that technology is taken away. But also, I think it shows something else--their adaptability and strength that they did survive and are pulling something back together again in an almost Mad Max sort of way.
so, a short chapter. a golden No-Prize for anyone who can correctly identify every object on display, and thanks to everyone who likes it so far and has commented: CHAPTER SEVEN Down at the end of the Grand Staircase, five levels below the streets, was a lobby unlike any other in any Federation building anywhere on Earth. Joe had heard stories about it back aboard Voyager, late at night when Captain Janeway and Chakotay were in the mess hall chatting. None of the other crew spoke of it and after a time Joe had realized that even Chakotay only knew of it in rumors. Janeway had admitted one night that she’d only gotten as far as the lobby, that she’d never actually passed through the doors that lined it. Few people in the Federation had. As he stepped foot onto the lobby floor he paused a moment so his vision could adjust to the lack of light. The lobby was round and there were doors every ten feet. Ten doors were visible in all and none of them held any identifying signs. The floor was black marble with the letters “SFTI” engraved in it in pure latinum. Time had coated it all with a patina of dust but the brilliant metal still held a glimmer of its true glory. Glass exhibit cases were interspersed between the doors. Joe wandered over to the first one on the left. Although the dust made it hard to see, Joe could make out a metallic, disc-like object about ten inches across. . There was no caption or explanation. Shrugging, Joe wandered over to the next case. It held a twenty-third century hypospray. Joe frowned at it and looked for more information but once again there was nothing. The third case held a twenty-first century identification wallet. The fourth had a piece of ablative armor from a Klingon Bird of Prey, circa 2280. Joe ignored the rest and headed for the sixth door, counting from left to right. He tapped in the code that Suvon had included in his file and the door opened with a depressurization sound. Joe swung it open the rest of the way and stepped in. If Suvon had been correct the means of saving Earth and the Federation lay within. **************************************** “Lieutenant Adams to Enterprise.” “We’re still here, Lieutenant,” Rikers voice resonated in the away team’s helmets. “Commander, we have found the source of the attack. It was a Jem H’adar launcher set on automatic. It has been disabled.” “Very good, Lieutenant. Prepare to beam up.” “Ah, sir, there is a … complication.” Lieutenant Adams said. The brusqueness in Riker’s voice was evident when he responded. “What do you mean, a complication. Is the launcher disabled or not?” Seven spoke up before Adams could. “Commander, we have encountered a Mark I EMH. He claims to be from the future-and my past.” She gave Joe a dubious look through the faceplate of her suit. There was a lengthy silence before Riker spoke again. “Did he fire the torpedoes at us?” Joe activated his internal communicator. “I assure you, Commander, I did nothing of the sort. May I come aboard?” “Who am I speaking with?” Riker sounded startled. “I am Joe Smith. In a way, I am the Voyager’s EMH-at least, I was stored in one of his back-up nodes. It’s taken me over nine hundred years to get here-is it ok if I come aboard and explain?” “Seven,” Riker had re-directed his transmission, “Do you advise I allow this?” Seven peered again at Joe. “I think we should examine his story. The fact that he is here is enough to warrant an investigation. I am not yet certain as to the accuracy of his story but he knows certain…things, things that only the Doctor could know.” Everybody on the Away Team could hear Riker sigh over the intercom. “Very well, let’s get him up here and hear what he has to say. Do you utilize a normal transporter beam?” “I believe that if you beam Seven up first she will be able to adapt the transporter to the necessary settings,” Joe replied. Seven nodded in reply to his unspoken question. “Very well,” said Riker. “Transporter room, beam up the away team.” Seven and the others sparkled out of existence, leaving Joe standing on the surface of the barren moon, waiting. Then a tingle overtook him. ***********************************
The Doctor to the rescue! But will he be in "time"? Time travel does cause all sorts of headaches, doesn't it?