Blackout

by Phaedra M. Weldon

  Something was bothering Dr. Lense, harsh and very personal. And when it came time to talk, Bart was sure he’d be the first one she came to.

  They always did.

  Captain Gold interlaced his fingers as he rested them on the conference table before him. Bart wondered briefly if the captain’s artificial hand actually felt the pressure of the knuckles of the other hand. “Asario is one of the Federation’s newest members, its technology on an independent level very close to our own. Unfortunately, as of seventy-two hours ago, Asario experienced a planetwide power blackout.”

  “Planetwide?” Gomez frowned. “How did we receive any calls for assistance from the Asarions if they have no power?”

  “Captain Scott received the message via subspace.” Gold glanced at Tev.

  The Tellarite nodded to the captain and took over the discussion, his snout thrust high. “Apparently two of the government’s ships were staffed and in orbit when the blackout occurred. They immediately sent out distress calls that reached Federation ships. One of the ships, the Mercury, was able to establish a small communication with the government’s leader. A female by the name of Corlis.”

  “Do their scientists know what caused the blackout?” Soloman asked. “Electromagnetic pulse?”

  “That was Stevens and Blue’s first guess as well,” Gold said. “I briefed them as soon as I received the message from Captain Scott. Our primary concern at the moment is to get power restored on a larger scale. Primarily to hospitals.”

  “I take it they’re having trouble turning the power back on?” Gomez said.

  Tev nodded. “Nothing with an amp output of more than sixty-five megawatts will work. We suspect a higher output with portable fusion reactors might be more efficient.”

  “What type of power source do they use?” Gomez asked.

  “The Asarions are a sparse race, their population only numbering half a million or so, refugees from a Borg invasion of their homeworld over a century ago. They occupy only a small part of the larger continent. Their main source of power is a single fusion reactor located in the center of the city.”

  “And something knocked it out,” Gomez said.

  “And is keeping it out,” Gold finished. “Apparently whatever caused the initial burst that shut systems down is also preventing them from restarting power.”

  Tev nodded. “Small fields are unaffected by this dampening effect.”

  Gold’s bushy white eyebrows furrowed as he looked at the team. “At present, they’ve been able to make do in keeping the more critical patients alive and comfortable. The worst of the situation is the heat. Asario is in its summer months on the larger continent and the heat index during the day can reach zeniths near those of Death Valley on Earth. They’ve started gathering the elderly and children into common areas where some generators can still power cooling units. Either way, it’s our job to get these people’s power back up. They’re working on small reactors now, but there aren’t enough of them to power the entire city.”

  Bart had kept quiet during the exchanges, listening intently. He was also aware of the stain on his finger and kept tucking the hand under the table. After a few seconds, the linguist finally cleared his throat and asked a question that had started rolling around in his thoughts. “Captain Gold—why was I called in?”

  Gold smiled. “Corlis has expressed interest in any help we could give her people in linguistic science—her words exactly. She believes the initial reason for the blackout has something to do with ruins found several kilometers outside the main city.”

  “The blackout,” Bart glanced at Carol, who had remained quiet since he sat down, “was caused by ruins?”

  Gold nodded. “That’s what the leader said.”

  “Fabian, Pattie, and Soloman will work with Tev and me on the power problem,” Gomez said. “Vinx will be our security. Bart, you’ll go with Carol and Domenica to take a look at the excavation.”

  Bart nodded, as did everyone else. He was excited about the prospect of looking at an alien culture, of studying their letters and their words, the syntax and their language. But not even that excitement could quell the nagging guilt he felt at not writing to Anthony.

  “Now,” Gold said and turned toward the patiently waiting cultural specialist. “I’m going to turn this over to Abramowitz, who is going to brief you all on the cultural and the unique physiological nature of the Asarions. So please, everyone, listen carefully.” Gold shook his head. “You’re all going to need to know this.”

  Carol gave her commanding officer an arched eyebrow. “Thank you, Captain.” She looked at everyone. “Asarion culture isn’t much different than our own when looked at in generalizations. They developed their technology much the same way we did. They used fossil fuels and even had their own dark age of a sort. What does set them apart are their severe physical differences.”

  Bart narrowed his eyes as the screen changed. He expected to see some sort of bipedal, scale-covered insectoid from the way Carol was building it up. Instead he saw an attractive, almost human-looking woman. Broad shouldered and lean body-type. The only noticeable difference between a human female and this one was the eyes.

  As he leaned forward to see the image better, Bart couldn’t put his finger on what made the eyes different, only that he knew he would recognize an Asarion among the crew of the da Vinci by just looking into their eyes.

  Bart couldn’t see what other physical differences Carol was talking about.

  “Asarions have two states of being. They possess an Alpha State, the sex in which they’re born into, and a Beta State, the sex into which they shift. These states are not always the same, meaning female isn’t always the Alpha or vice versa. Their Alpha is determined by their birth state. Or their home state.”

  “Whoa.” Makk Vinx abruptly spoke up. “Beggin’ your pardon there, Doc, but are you saying these people—” He winced. “—they shift sex? A broad could be a fella, just like that? All—” He glanced around the room, his gaze apologetic to the women in the room. “I mean,” Vinx made a nodding gesture to the lower part of his torso, “even…?”

  Carol nodded. “Yes, very much so.” Bart could see the excitement evident in her expression.

  He took a step back. “Unbelievable.”

  “Vinx,” Corsi said in a low voice, “be seen, not heard.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Carol continued, a slight smile on her lips. “You can only imagine the sort of culture that would grow out of this physical change. Puberty brings about an Asarion’s first shift, where the body changes to the opposite sex into what will be their Beta State. Shift states can last from one year to three years, and there is a record of a Beta-Shift lasting up to six years.”

  “You mean they’re male until puberty, then wake up one morning and now he’s a she?” Corsi asked. “They’re not Hermats? Because I’ve met a few Hermats. They even have their own set of pronouns.”

  Bart glanced at the security chief. She looked as puzzled and awed as he felt.

  “No, they’re not Hermats. They don’t possess the genitals of both male and female simultaneously. Their bodies actually become a single-species sex other than the one of their birth state. There’s also no change of identity of the individual’s likes and dislikes, their personality, or their knowledge. Some Asarions shift in even amounts. Two years Alpha, two years Beta, without fail. Others shift ‘off-clock,’ or randomly. An Alpha State may last three years and a Beta only one.”

  “Interesting,” Tev said, turning his face from Abramowitz to the screen where the Asarion pictured abruptly mutated into a male version of the female.

  Carol smiled. “Once an Asarion female gives birth, she loses the ability to shift. This life choice is considered an honor. Because of this the balance of female Alphas to male Alphas has increased. And that imbalance long ago triggered the Asarions’ present governmental structure to relegate their society’s skills to gender-particular trades.”

  “Now that’
s just crazy,” Gomez rubbed at her forehead. “Gender-dictated life paths?”

  “In a way. The males are the defenders, the builders, and the craftsmen of the society, while the women are the scientists, the business leaders, and the political officers.”

  Tev made a rude noise. “There is their greatest flaw—no men in government. Vastly debilitating philosophy.”

  Ooh, Bart winced inwardly. I think the commander needs to juice up the dosage on Tev’s sensitivity classes.

  To his credit, Tev noticed the looks his comment was earning him, and he said, “I would say the same if there were no women in it. If a government is to be properly representational to the needs of its people, it should include both male and female.”

  “Even so,” Carol said while glaring at Tev, “everyone should be aware that you could possibly be working with one person one day, and then they’re abruptly replaced by someone else.”

  Gomez lowered her head, but looked up at Carol under her eyebrows. “So, if I were an Asarion female, and suddenly became a man, I could no longer work with woman things. I’d have to do man things now.”

  Carol nodded. “Yep. Any questions?”

  Corsi nodded. “I have one. Will my being a security officer offend anyone? I am, after all, a female, and a defender.”

  Bart nodded, pursed his lips. Good question.

  “No, the Asarions aren’t a proselytizing race. There are no records of any of Starfleet’s emissaries being forced to adhere to their societal rules. So we should be okay.”

  Bart sat in silence with the team. He could only imagine what was going through their minds. His own thoughts were a jumble of questions, ranging from what would happen if your lover or husband’s sex suddenly became unsuitable to one’s tastes?

  He was sure the society had compensated for this small glitch, just as his own had. But still…the thought of Anthony abruptly becoming Antoinette was more than a bit…unnerving.

  “Thank you, Abramowitz,” Gold took charge of the briefing once again. “We’ll be arriving in the Asarion system in four hours. I suggest we all make the best of that time. Dismissed.”

  Chapter

  3

  “Bart,” Carol touched Bart’s arm on the way out of the conference room.

  The linguist stopped in the hallway just outside as Carol stepped through the door. He really wanted to return to his quarters and prepare himself for their arrival. But, as usual, someone needed to talk. “What’s up, Carol?”

  Carol Abramowitz had a slight build, with large eyes and a full mouth. Her close-cropped dark hair shone under the lights as did the twinkle in her eye. “Congratulations—you’re writing again?”

  Bart frowned. He’d made the mistake of sharing his recent tardiness in writing to Anthony with Carol over dinner. But how did the woman know he’d actually attempted a letter?

  Catching the look of confusion in Bart’s expression, Carol reached down and grabbed Bart’s hand, the one with the stain. She held it up for both of them to see. “It’s nice to see that little mark again.”

  With a little more force than intended, Bart pulled his hand out of Carol’s grip. Guilt pressed down harder against his shoulders. “It’s nothing. It’s not what you think. I didn’t…couldn’t…”

  Carol leaned toward Bart. “You didn’t write Anthony a letter?”

  He opened his mouth to respond and then closed it. A loud sigh escaped him as he leaned against the nearest bulkhead. They were alone in the corridor. “I started to. But then I wasn’t sure what to say. I wanted to tell him about the Koas and what I saw. And about Caitano and Deverick and about Elizabeth’s baby. And then a small voice told me I was only avoiding the larger issue. But something kept staying the words.”

  “You mean Anthony’s mention of marriage.” Carol put her hands on her hips and leaned her head to one side. “Bart…why would someone like you, who enjoys a stable, long-term, long-distance even, relationship with a wonderful man, be afraid of commitment?”

  Though his own inner voice had asked the same question over and over, Bart hadn’t heard it verbalized. It immediately put him on the defensive. “I am not afraid, I’m just…” he paused.

  I’m just what? Cautious? How often had he used that excuse on himself, sabotaging relationships before? Cautious because of his own job? Since joining Starfleet over eighteen years ago, his life had been full of adventure as well as danger. He knew he’d over-rationalized the higher road—knowing casual relationships were best as he never knew if one mission would lead to his death.

  All that changed when he met Anthony Mark on Starbase 92 over a year ago.

  Or so he’d believed.

  In space, on a ship, how would anyone know what next step would spell the end? It seemed so easy while I’d been out there, watching the Koas pyramid unfold, watching a miracle take place. Knowing then I’d wanted Anthony in my life always, to share such experiences with me. So what happened? Why can’t I even verbalize my own anxiety at the thought of marriage?

  “Bart? You’re doing it. You’re overthinking.”

  He blinked at her. “I am not. I’m just trying to figure out what’s wrong with me.”

  “Well then, talk to me.”

  He frowned. “About what?”

  “Whatever is bothering you. People always go to you when they’re confused or need an ear. Why won’t you talk to me? Or to Fabian? Or Pattie? Or hell, even Tev—you seem to get along with him better than anyone.”

  That much was true. Bart didn’t feel the same animosity toward the Tellarite that the rest of the crew did. “Look, you’re right. Maybe I need to talk. And maybe I will…one day. I have to figure out what’s wrong with me, and I have to figure it out on my own.”

  “Nothing’s wrong with you. You’re just a man with cold feet.”

  “I do not have cold feet.”

  “Iceberg.”

  “Eh,” Bart turned and pressed his forehead against the nearest bulkhead, a little harder than he intended, making a nice thunking noise. He closed his eyes as he spoke. “I don’t have cold feet. I’m only considering Anthony, that’s all. My life—our lives here—are in constant danger. Something tragic could happen at any moment.”

  “To him or you?”

  “Both.”

  “And this is something no other Starfleet officer has faced before?” Carol frowned.

  Bart opened his eyes and straightened up. “I’m not an officer.”

  “No, but Anthony is. And he accepts those risks every day. I don’t think you’re being fair to him. I think you’re being selfish. I think this is all about you and something you haven’t faced.”

  Selfish. Me?

  Bart rubbed at his forehead before running thin fingers through his thick, salt-and-pepper hair. “When I think about a permanent commitment, something inside…” He searched for the perfect word and plucked it from his stressed mind. “Twists.”

  “You’re repulsed at the notion of marriage? Bart, you and Anthony are in love. I saw the way you two were at the wedding. That man adores you.” She shook her head. “I think you don’t know why marriage gives you cold feet.”

  “No, no, no. Argh…I’m not saying this right.” Me. A linguist, and I can’t even put into words the reasons why I can’t—

  “Hey, Bart,” came Fabian Stevens’s voice from Bart’s combadge. “You there?”

  Bart touched his badge with a sigh. “I’m here. What’s up?”

  “We just got another subspace message from Asario. Apparently they’ve picked up some sort of low-level emission from the excavation site.”

  “Emission? Like a radiation emission?”

  “No.” Fabian paused. “More like a repeated message. It’s sort of riding piggyback on whatever’s dampening the planet’s magnetic fields. I’m going to pipe it to the communications station on the bridge. Can you check it out?”

  “On my way,” Bart turned in the direction of the bridge and Carol followed. “Do we have anything on the planet
’s history?”

  “I’m afraid not. Or not much more than what the Asarion people have found since their colonization of it.”

  “Upload what you can to the communications station.” Bart preceded Carol onto the bridge and turned immediately to the station.

  Captain Gold sat in his chair and gave a half turn to watch Bart seat himself. “You received Stevens’s message?”

  “Yes, sir.” Bart grabbed a receiver and slipped it into his left ear as he sat down. He tapped a sequence of pads on the console and found Fabian’s upload. Making sure the receiver was snuggly in place, Bart cued the message, adjusted the volume, and played it.

  At first he thought something was wrong with his receiver, as the message was little more than a series of static whistles and clicks. He adjusted the resonance and compensated for distance and stream.

  Abruptly the whistles and clicks became a voice—but not any voice Bart had heard before, or in any immediately recognizable language. He glanced at the captain, who was watching him patiently. Frowning, the linguist quickly analyzed sounds, looked for repeating patterns, pinpointed consonants and vowels.

  “Anything?” Gold prompted.

  Bart pursed his lips as he fed what he heard into the computer. The universal translator was busy doing high-speed comparisons. But the linguist didn’t really need the computer’s aid to understand the meaning of the message. Tonal inflection as well as basic language syntax was all Bart Faulwell required. He had deciphered thousands of codes, languages, and symbols.

  “Captain,” the linguist said. “It’s a warning.”

  “A warning?”

  “A warning?” came Fabian’s voice from the speakers. Obviously the tactical specialist had been monitoring bridge communications. “From whom to whom? And what?”

  “Dunno,” Bart said. “I can tell it’s a warning, and it’s being repeated in precise intervals. I’d say it’s automated.”

  “But no idea on who and what?” Gold said.

  “Not yet. But I’ll have it.”