Ensign T'Reyna - Guilt

[Connor]

((Distribution Station, Biodome 2B, Miri IVa))


Myran: It won’t be long before we’ve cleared this market space.

T'Reyna: How does the Frost-Thrower feel to use? Few have had the honour.

Fairhug: True! It’s not our most popular piece of weaponry.

Myran: ?

Willow: I’m sure you could give others lessons.

Flare up.

Fire raised. A beacon to the unnatural.

Let them come. A trap, a lure. Ambush.

Freeze them, stun them.
Break them to a thousand pieces.

Place an individual in a warzone, their body will adapt to the thrills, the fears and the threat. Keep them there long enough, a soldier adapts. Yet remove the warzone and the body breaks down, for it lacks what it has become accustomed to. An enemy, a threat, a danger... mundane things frustrate and break the individual. Yet return the broken soul to a warzone and they awaken once more.

She WAS enjoying this. And that is wrong. Not simply because it is a Vulcan forced to experience emotion, but because ethically, morally, it hurt to admit.

T'Reyna: Perhaps it is…the poison in my blood…Yet one must admit, this is…satisfying.

Willow: ::Continuing to light the flame:: No need to dwell on that. A cure has been found. All we need to do is prevent it from being necessary in the future.

Ah... a cure. Will it heal the wounds of your little mind, soldier?

Only three hours, thirty-six minutes and twenty-two seconds left until she regrets not having one.  

Gogi turned his head to look at Adjunct Myran, while continuing to fire his torch stick.

Fairhug: I have a feeling the people in charge here will make sure of that.

T'Reyna: A.. relief. This is... difficult to endure...

Each time the Vulcan rushed forward to shatter these frozen plants, she felt cooler from the freezing air. The chill eased her body from the boiling blood from the fever.

Myran: ?

Willow: If only it was that easy. History has a way of repeating itself.

Gogi replied only with a sober nod of the head.

T'Reyna: Yet a trouble must resolve for a trouble to return.

Myran: ?

Willow: Too right you are.

Myran: ?

Holding up a hand again, the Bardeezan called out to the others.

Fairhug: Stop! ::lowering his torch stick and gesturing to Myran:: Adjunct…

The Deltan once again took advantage of the proximity of the vines, freezing them in place, before they all stepped in with their small axes and shattered the tendrils like glass.

They had now cleared the plaza and as Gogi looked around, he saw the medic and security officer from earlier tending to some of those who had been wounded by the plant.

One of them was Hargruff - the Tellarite who had been stunned by T'Reyna earlier.

T'Reyna observed him for a moment, cautiously.

Not long ago, she mistook this Tellarite for a Jem'Hadar soldier that lived -- and died by her own hand -- precisely 26 years ago. That manner of hallucination was dramatic. If Myran's weapon had not been set to stun, she would have killed that man.

He would be dead. She would be a murderer, not a soldier. Pursing her lips, she looked down at the axe in her hands.

Its edge was dulled with frozen chips and icy debris. Yet, for a split second, she could've sworn she saw a mixture of amber and green blood upon its metal.

Fairhug: There's still a lot of this plant to remove, Adjunct, but I have faith that my colleagues are close to finding a more efficient way of doing that. In the meantime, what do you say we help your people to help themselves?

Myran: ?

Willow: ?

The Vulcan found herself somewhat absent-minded now that the combat has ended. She cautiously put the axe 'sheathed' into her belt, placing a hand on the side of her head as the headaches and fever took hold once more.

T'Reyna: Focus... focus...  ::she murmured to herself like a prayer:: 

Fairhug: The people in this plaza have seen what we've done, plus your medic has been able to administer the same drug to them as she did to Ensign T’Reyna. If they still don't realise that we're here to help, then I don't know what more we can do.

Myran: ?

T'Reyna: The drug is... effective... for another few hours. I may-... be of service for a short time longer. What needs... doing?

Willow: ?

Fairhug: ::pointing to the trolleys and rations scattered around:: I reckon we can get things tidied up around here and start distributing this aid again…this time in a more orderly fashion.

The Vulcan gave a nod.

She desperately needed something to distract herself with, a work, an order, something to keep her mind off of the burdens of the past.

T'Reyna: Yes, Commander. 

She would begin collecting various packages and ration packs from the floor, pulling one of the dipped anti-grav trolleys upright with great force and piling them atop. Whilst her face, hair and makeup began to look a bit of a mess, she was without a doubt still fighting the poison in her veins.

The pain was gone, for now. The hallucinations, dulled. Yet the emotion, the voice...

Willow/Myran: ?

T'Reyna continues gathering and generally making the riot-ridden calamity of a plaza look just a little tidy. Unless spoken to, she will focus on her work and try to avoid opening up any more wounds than she needs to.

Notably, she tries to avoid looking over at the Tellarite...

Fairhug/Willow/Myran: ?

--

Ensign T'Reyna
Security
Starbase 118 Ops
O240102T11