The Sky's The Limit Part 8

"Aye, sir." Riker stood up and headed toward the lift. "Data and Worf, you're with me." He paused by La Forge. "Want to tag along?"

La Forge nodded. If it turned out the entire population of Narsosia had perished, the least they could do would be to save this ship and whatever records might be aboard her. It could be all that remained of Narsosian civilization. "Yes, I do. Thanks."

"See if you want to thank me after you suit up." Riker clapped him on the shoulder. "I hate those things."

La Forge had fallen another twenty kilometers, plunging into the next layer of Askarian clouds, bluish with water ice. His HUD showed three Earth atmospheres pressure, as if he were twenty meters underwater. It took over six minutes to fall just that much farther, he thought. Since I'm falling at "only" 185 kilometers per hour now. The attempted joke didn't bring a smile to his face.

His EV suit was still compensating for the increased pressure, but it was at the edge of its capabilities. After all, it's a soft suit, designed for low-pressure conditions. On the other hand, the temperature's up to freezing, so I'm saving heating power. But extra power or not, it was time to admit he was going to be crushed in the deep atmosphere. Like a submarine sinking under the ocean.

Five minutes pa.s.sed. He felt mentally and physically numb. And then- A submarine. Like I'm sinking underwater. He shook his head, at least as much as he could inside his helmet. Why didn't I think of this before? This is a simple buoyancy problem.

La Forge reached down to an emergency supply pouch strapped to his left leg. Leaving the skydiving position, his descent increased. He rolled over, back down, which made it a bit easier. He glanced at the HUD-four Earth atmospheres and increasing. He was now 60 kilometers below the alt.i.tude he'd fallen from, traveling at 113 kilometers an hour. Carefully opening the pouch so everything wouldn't fly out, he withdrew a one-person survival shelter. It was compact, about the size of a tricorder. He played out his safety line again, looped it through a carry strap on the shelter, and attached the adhesion plate to one of the straps of its harness. Then he slipped his left hand through the strap and pulled the shelter's activation tab with his right. A chemical reaction caused support ribs to stiffen, forcing the shelter to unfold. He reached behind his back, fumbled around, and found the auxiliary oxygen line. Pulling it out as far as he could, he inserted it into a valve on the side of the unfolding shelter and flicked the release on the end of the line.

As the compressed oxygen in the tank on his back expanded into the shelter, his rate of descent decreased. Soon he was dangling from the swollen hemispherical shelter, a bubble of oxygen inflated to about a meter and a half across. He detached the oxygen line and stowed it as he checked the HUD. Three and a half Earth atmospheres...and decreasing. I'm actually rising. Grunting with the pain of being battered by the wind during his fifteen-minute plunge, he tightened up the safety line to get some support from that and reached up to grab the carry strap with his right hand as well.

Then a red light came on, warning that his oxygen tank was low.

It was like arriving late at a play, the room dark, the show sold out. La Forge, Riker, Data, and Worf stood at the back of a large pa.s.senger compartment in the scramjet, playing their palm beacons across the rows and rows of seats, each one occupied. It was as if the Narsosians were waiting for the curtain to rise-but they were all dead. The away team moved up a center aisle for a closer look.

The Narsosians were, on average, tall by human standards. Nearly without exception both males and females were more than two meters tall. They wore undecorated jumpsuits and boots in a variety of colors. Most looked quite peaceful; many held hands. The Narsosians had dull red downy hair that appeared to cover most of their skin, head, hands, and faces alike. Their noses were very small, their ears almost nonexistent. Their teeth were large, the males' noticeably broader.

Data lowered his tricorder. "There are five hundred and three Narsosian corpses aboard this ship." Data also wore an EV suit; although the environment was not a problem for the android, anti-contamination regulations required he suit up too.

La Forge frowned. "How did they all die so...neatly?"

Riker looked back and forth at the partially mummified bodies by twisting at the waist in his EV suit. "Maybe they were medicated. They knew they were going to die."

"Asphyxiation is not an honorable death," Worf said. "Better to choose your own time."

As Worf and Data headed off in different directions in the pa.s.senger compartment, La Forge took out his tricorder to trace the distress call. It was coming from a compartment beneath the pa.s.sengers. With a glance around, he noticed a gangway leading below.

"Commander, I'm going below to check on the beacon."

Riker gave him a wave. "Keep in touch."

La Forge nodded and headed down the stairs. He used a palm beacon; at near absolute zero there was little thermal variation for his VISOR to pick up. As he stepped onto the deck at the bottom, he turned slowly back and forth, waving the tricorder. The signal beacon was up ahead. He tramped forward, the low pressure keeping sounds to a minimum as his boots met the deckplates.

This compartment was full of machinery, and La Forge wished he had the time to stop and investigate every piece, but he had to keep the larger rescue mission in mind. With that thought, he reached a smaller compartment that had to be the location of the signal beacon. Shining his light through the open hatch, he illuminated a sole Narsosian body.

He drew back a bit, startled. Why was this Narsosian down here alone? Stepping into the compartment, he knelt beside the body, which appeared female. Her mummified features, softened by the reddish down on her skin, still seemed to show a determined expression. She sat right beside the signal beacon. She must have been making sure it was still functioning. Or she wanted to be here if someone found them-whether dead or alive, she's the first Narsosian to meet an alien.

La Forge suddenly had no doubt he was right, that he'd had an insight into this person's last thoughts. It was difficult to believe those thoughts had occurred six hundred years before. With a sad sigh, he scanned the signal beacon. It was powered by a radio-isotope thermoelectric generator, still running at 23 percent capacity. It had served its purpose, if belatedly, so after identifying a power switch he tapped it off.

Standing, he took a last look at the Narsosian and then headed back to the gangway. Reaching the pa.s.senger level, he spotted the rest of the away team huddled around a computer terminal. Data was tapping away at the keys and occasionally referring to his tricorder.

"I have found only text journals, no audio or video recordings," Data said. "Using universal translator data from their recorded distress call, I have been able to infer the correlation between their spoken and written language. I am going to upload the data into my internal processors, and then I will be able to read the journals directly." Only a second pa.s.sed, and Data blinked. "Transfer complete."

"Sometimes I wish I could learn that fast," La Forge said.

"Not me," said Riker. "I like the challenge of the process. That's half the fun."

Data looked back and forth at La Forge and Riker. "I do not have 'fun,' but I agree that the organic learning process is usually preferable. Under the circ.u.mstances, however, the approach I chose seemed the expedient one."

Riker grinned, then returned to a subdued expression. "Right, as usual, Data. Please, continue."

With a nod, Data went back to studying the monitor of the Narsosian computer. La Forge leaned in and saw that the text was scrolling by in a blur that only an android or a Scalosian could follow.

"Interesting," Data said. "The Narsosians, for various political and cultural reasons, never developed a s.p.a.ce program before they needed to evacuate the planet. But they did have a high-speed transit system of suborbital scramjets. Then, early in the evacuation, they used carbon nanotube technology to build orbital elevators connected to s.p.a.ce stations circling Narsosia."

"Wait a minute," said La Forge. "With this level of technology, they should've been able to stop the pollution causing the greenhouse effect and maybe even reverse it."

Data looked up from the monitor. "You are correct. If they had heeded the early warnings, they might have been able to avert the catastrophe. However, within their system of privatized industry, it was more profitable to maintain the status quo. By the time the severity of the situation could counteract the profit motive, it was too late."

"Much like Earth's history," Riker said. "It took World War III and the Vulcans to get humanity onto a different track." He glanced down at the monitor, although he could not read the text. "But why weren't the s.p.a.ce stations mentioned in the distress call?"

Data referred back to the monitor, beginning the high-speed scroll again. "Because they failed. It was never within the Narsosians' capabilities to evacuate the entire population. There was hope that those who remained behind would somehow find a way to save the planet, but ensuring the survival of their species was the priority. The selection process was transparent and equitable, but those left behind were not satisfied. Civil unrest led to civil war. The descent into anarchy doomed any final attempts at solving the environmental problems." Data paused, his expression changing subtly, and La Forge could see his dismay. "By the time this scramjet left, six hundred and twelve years ago, all the stations were under attack. Some were falling from orbit. The scramjet was forced to take evasive action to avoid debris from the stations. Given their limited maneuvering abilities, they were never able to get back on course." Data turned off the monitor. "As Commander Riker surmised, they committed suicide instead of suffering slow deaths by asphyxiation. One waited until the last to ensure the others all died peacefully, then released the atmosphere to help preserve the bodies, as was their custom. She made the last entries to this journal after her crewmates were dead."

"I found her," La Forge said. "She was sitting by the beacon. Waiting for us."

After a moment of silence, Riker looked at his away team. "Let's hope the other scramjets had better luck." He opened a channel to the ship. "Enterprise, this is Riker. Bring us back home."

"Warning: oxygen supply is below recommended refill level." The bland computer recording sounded again inside his EV helmet, but La Forge could do nothing about it. He couldn't even recall how to disable the alert so he wouldn't have to listen to it again.

Drifting along peacefully among the clouds at two Earth atmospheres of pressure, the temperature about fifteen below Celsius, La Forge had a beautiful view. The clouds around him were water ice, a hint of blue to them. A kilometer above was the layer of tan ammonium-hydrosulfide clouds, lightning playing back and forth through them. He'd stabilized at an alt.i.tude about forty kilometers below where he'd fallen from the lift.

He knew it would be risky to pilot a shuttle through that weather, but not impossible. Of course, this was a big planet, and with long-range sensors almost useless in the ionized atmosphere, Enterprise's shuttles could miss him even if every last one of them was flying around down here. But he had to try to hold on-literally. Though his shoulders ached and his fingers were numb, he still clutched the carry strap of the inflated shelter with both hands. At this point, he might not have been able to let go if he tried.

Of course, if he did, he would just end up dangling from the safety line like a child's toy tied to a balloon. That image brought a smirk to his face, which rapidly faded. Whether from exertion or oxygen deprivation, or both, he was getting sleepy. He would have to double his efforts, but he could feel his eyelids drooping behind his VISOR.

"Warning: oxygen supply is below recommended refill level."

He jerked his head up, having come close to falling asleep. One way or another, this will be decided soon, he thought. It was not rea.s.suring.

"They were wrong about the moons," said La Forge, shaking his head. He stood by the engineering station at the back of the bridge.

"Only the largest one is tectonically stable enough for colonization," agreed Data. "And even that one does not have a breathable atmosphere. There are no life signs."

As Enterprise neared Askaria, the recovered scramjet in tow by tractor beam, La Forge's hopes for survivors had already fallen considerably. They had entered the system on a course that took them past Narsosia first, easing into standard orbit near the only remaining s.p.a.ce station, comparable in size to Earth s.p.a.cedock. The surface of the planet was invisible beneath a thick cover of clouds.

Data had reported the findings of his sensor scans to a bridge crew subdued in the face of an obviously dead world. "Captain, the atmosphere has a carbon dioxide level of approximately six thousand five hundred parts per million by volume, far above breathable levels for the Narsosians. The combined effect of all greenhouse gases present has driven the average surface temperature to one hundred twenty-five point three degrees Celsius. The atmosphere also has an elevated sulfur dioxide content, causing highly acidic rainfall with a pH of one point two. Ozone levels are severely depleted. There are numerous surface structures that could withstand these conditions, but there are no life signs above the level of various unicellular extremophiles. There are no artificial energy readings on the surface.

"There are also no energy readings aboard the station. Its hull has been compromised in at least thirty-three locations. There is evidence of the use of explosives throughout the structure. The pattern of Narsosian remains located in the station seems to indicate several factions fortified within their own sections. A carbon nanotube tether appears to have been purposefully severed from the base of the station."

"An attempt to stop further incursions by hostiles," Worf said.

Troi had looked up at Worf, her eyes shining with tears. "They were not 'hostiles,' they were desperate people, living in horrible conditions."

Worf looked down with a scowl. "I am not judging why they became hostile." He looked back at the screen. The station had slowly rotated, exposing a hole in the hull large enough to pilot an Oberth-cla.s.s starship through. "But they were hostile."

Worf's comments at Narsosia still haunted La Forge's thoughts as he watched another uninhabitable Askarian moon slide by the forward screen. How could they have survived all these centuries? wondered La Forge. Everything was stacked against them.

"Captain, I have found something," Data said.

Picard sat up straighter. "Good news this time, I hope."

"Inconclusive for now; Askaria's intense electromagnetic field is interfering with sensors. But I have found scramjets in equatorial orbit around Askaria. I have detected one hundred and five total, although several of them appear to be open to vacuum."

"The one we boarded had five hundred people on it," said Riker. "There could have been fifty thousand Narsosians aboard those ships."

Wesley Crusher looked back from the conn. "Could they have survived all this time?"

"We can only hope so for now," said Picard. "Take us in closer. We'll see if we can cut through the interference at close range."

"Aye, sir."

"I've isolated the nearest scramjet on screen, sir," Worf said. All eyes focused on the silver ship standing out from the immense tan background of Askaria.

Troi squinted at the image. "What's that cable on the ship extending away from the planet?"

La Forge recognized its purpose immediately. "It's a counterweight." He walked closer to the screen, pointing. "See, look below the craft, there's a planar ribbon tether descending into the atmosphere."

"An orbital elevator?" said Riker.

Data turned around. "Technically, such an elevator must be tethered to a planet's surface. On a gas giant such as Askaria, that would not be possible."

"No," La Forge said. "But you could just sink something deep into the atmosphere where the pressure would help anchor it. Kind of like the ocean platform on Argo."

"Are there any life signs?" said Picard.

"Scans are still indeterminate." Data continued adjusting the sensors as he spoke. "In addition to the strong EM field, the atmosphere is highly ionized, inhibiting sensors, transporters, and long-range communications below the troposphere."

La Forge moved back to the engineering station. "I'll route extra power to the sensor grid. Data, with that boost you might be able to tweak the scanning frequencies and punch through that field."

"That is a reasonable possibility," Data said. "Shall we proceed, Captain?"

"Make it so." While his crew wrestled with their technology, Picard turned toward Troi. "Are you sensing anything, Counselor?"

Troi closed her eyes for a moment to focus. "No, Captain." She opened her eyes, staring at the screen. "Not exactly. But...all I can say is that while I'm not directly feeling any consciousness out there, I'm also not getting the void in my empathic sense like I did at Narsosia."

As La Forge worked on the sensors, he realized he was smiling. There must be Narsosians still alive down there somewhere, he thought.

"With Geordi's a.s.sistance, I have partially compensated for the EM field," Data said. "I am getting more detailed scans of the orbiting scramjets. Some of them contain sophisticated manufacturing facilities, which appear to be in working order. Others have living quarters but no life signs. There are strong signs of plant growth on some ships, apparently viable gardens. There are no shuttlecraft. Outside of s.p.a.cewalks, the only means of leaving the scramjets would appear to be the orbital elevators. I have detected sixty-seven more tethers among the other scramjets."

"Captain," Worf said loudly, "I am detecting life signs on the largest moon."

"I thought there was nothing down there," said Riker.

"The moon orbits within the planet's EM field," Worf explained. "So I rescanned it with the boosted sensor frequencies. There are at least eight scramjets on the surface. Two appear to have crashed, but the rest were soft landed."

"Confirmed," added Data as he personally scanned the moon again. He looked back at Picard. "And to clarify, the life signs are emanating from underground. I believe they have built a pressurized environment within natural caverns."

"This is remarkable," Picard said. He glanced back at La Forge. "I guess your optimism has won the day, Geordi."

"Thank you, sir."

"They may be prewarp, but they sent an interstellar distress call and successfully settled another world in their system," said Picard. "I don't see any significant Prime Directive issues here. Worf, can we hail them?"

"Possibly, sir. But I'm not detecting broadcast signals of any kind from the moon."

La Forge said, "Maybe they don't have the technology anymore. Or what they do have doesn't have the strength to make it through the rock and the EM field."

"If there's a chance they wouldn't be able to signal back," said Troi, "I recommend not trying to signal them. A voice out of nowhere that can't hear them could be quite disturbing to a race without any alien contact experience."

Picard nodded, then turned to Riker. "Take an away team to the moon."

"Aye, sir." Riker stood up.

"But remember," Picard added, "as Deanna pointed out, this is also a first contact mission. Take a shuttlecraft down but approach on foot-no beaming in. I'm sure the Askarians gave up on anyone coming to their aid centuries ago. We don't want to overwhelm them."

"Of course, sir. Any chance to wear an EV suit." He glanced around the bridge. "Same as before, Data, La Forge, and Worf, you're with me." He smiled down at Troi. "And, Counselor, perhaps you'd like to lend your expertise to a first contact?"

"I thought you'd never ask," she said as she stood.

"But, Captain," La Forge said, "what about Askaria?"

Picard stood up to make better eye contact with the away team. "Right now the life signs on the moon are our priority."

"I understand that, sir, but..." La Forge hesitated. Somehow this whole mission had become quite personal, and he wasn't sure why. But he did know that if he didn't continue pursuing it, he'd regret it later. "Captain, I'd like to take an away team into the Askarian atmosphere. All the people from the orbiting scramjets must be down there."

"I appreciate you volunteering, Geordi, but there's no reason why Askaria can't wait until after we contact the Narsosians on the moon. They may even have information about the other possible survivors."

"I understand that too, sir." La Forge looked around the bridge at his crewmates and friends. He wasn't as self-conscious as he thought he'd be, arguing with the captain in front of everyone. "I know you could say they've survived over six hundred years, they can get by for another day. But when I think of the Narsosian I found, her body by the beacon...I just don't want any of them waiting anymore."

Picard exchanged a look with Riker. Then he nodded his head with a smile. "How can I stand in the way of such enthusiasm? Lieutenant Commander La Forge, you will take an away team into the clouds of Askaria."

"Thank you, Captain."

Picard turned toward the screen, watching the orbiting scramjets. "We don't know how they're living down there. I'm reluctant to have you fly in." He looked back at La Forge. "Your team will beam over to one of the scramjets and use its elevator. Knock on their front door, if you will."

"Aye, sir."

"Take Mister Worf and Counselor Troi with you." Picard looked at Riker. "I'm confident you can handle the first contact, Will. Just get another security officer to accompany you and Data."

"Aye, sir."

"Everyone dismissed. It's time we introduced ourselves."

"Warning: oxygen supply is critical. Refill now."