Lt. Cmdr. Kirsty Carpenter - Cult of Personality

[Justin Partridge]

((Deck 10 Corridor, U.S.S. Ronin, Outside the J-0922A System.))

Kirsty flexed and reflexed both her fists in time with the syncopated breathing techniques Dek had left her with. She allowed herself a small smile and a smaller shock that it actually worked. 

Mind you, she was still absolutely mad with worry over Chief Alieth and the soon-to-be-deployed away team. Still wildly speculating on what sort of things awaited that team over on the semi-cloaked platform. But as she had to keep reminding herself, The Captain had made his decision and she had other orders to carry out besides. Orders she planned on executing to the best of her abilities. If anyone could figure out what was happening on that platform, it would be Alieth and Luxa. If she was to trust anyone to protect them, it would be Raedai. Just in his short time with them, he had proven his ability and adaptability under pressure. 

It would be, quite literally, out of her hands in a matter of hours. She trusted her fellow crew. She trusted her CO. All she could do now was focus on...whatever awaited her on Deck 10. 

She was striding out of the lift the moment it stopped, pleasantly surprised by the sight of Lamia, holding out an equipment belt and giving her Chief a calm nod of a practiced furrowed brow and motion with the now free hand down the corridor. She was a petty officer they had picked up in the recent infusion of personnel. Rumor around the barracks was she used to be a private eye in Freehold and the rumor might have been true, judging by the Type IV tricorder she had slotted into one of their heavy-duty motion trackers. 

She strapped on the belt, thankful for the weight of the weapon at her hip; speaking as she talked.

Carpenter: Status?

Lamia: Weintraub is up ahead with the Medic. Said she saw it headed down this way and the tracker confirms. We were waiting to confirm biometrics before we moved forward.

Carpenter: The Medic on that?

Lamia nodded gratefully as they approached the pair awaiting just at the bend leading deeper into the ship.

Lamia: Oh, yeah, she birddogged him good, Chief. 

She gave her own grateful nod as they came upon the other two members of this new merry band. She had almost thought how good it was they were finally catching a break, but she cut that thought off quicker than lightening. She wasn't about to foul their energy now.

Instead she turned to the long, tall Trill in the Medical blues and spared a nod toward Weintraub, a burly 2nd LT. who had recently taught a heavy ordinance training Kirsty had been quite impressed with. As she was at how he was baring the weight of his phaser rifle and the row of "icers" (aka: liquid nitrogen charges) across his chest.

She regarded the Medic with as much candor as she could spare in the moment.

Carpenter: Thank you for the heads up, Ensign...?

Syrex: RESPONSE

She nodded in acknowledgement, edging her eyes carefully down the corridor.

Carpenter: Syrex. I'm Carpenter. Sorry we aren't meetin' under better circumstances.

Syrex: RESPONSE

She points down the corridor.

Carpenter: Down this way, you said? And in Gold?

Syrex: RESPONSE

She pivoted her body toward Lamia, who was already sweeping her tracker-tricorder down the way. Turning a grave nod of confirmation toward her superior as Weintraub instinctively started to move toward their rear, peering intently down the other side of the corridor. 

It suddenly occurred to Kirsty just what a target rich environment Deck 10 was. There were generator bays, the forward amidships phaser array, the subspace transceiver,  the fragging torpedo magazine...

She tamped all that down, bringing her hand to the butt of her phaser and moving into point position with Lamia, trying to do her best to do an impression of a confident Chief. 

Carpenter: Y'all stay on me. We'll run 'em down, confirm biometrics, and then lock. Them. Down. Captain wants this handled yesterday.

Lamia: Copy, Chief.

Weintraub: On you, sir. 

Syrex: RESPONSE

Kirsty drew her sidearm in a downward grip and started forward. Darting her eyes carefully between their path forward and the tracker-tricorder at Lamia's hand.

((Port Observation Lounge/Mess, Deck 10, U.S.S. Ronin.))

Oddly enough it wasn't the positive proximity signal or the biological particulate trail they started to see as they stepped deeper into the deck that brought them to their quarry. It was the sound of breaking glass. A sort of thin crunching they all seemed to clock in unison. 

Then they saw them. Him for the moment. Standing moon-eyed and still in the approximation of a Gold uniform Syrex had first seen him in. Kirsty quickly took stock of the compartment. The shattered glass she could see though the slats in the few short tables that peppered the space between them and the Changeling, who seemed transfixed with the Port viewport which was showing the wrong star field of the semi-cloaked platform. She couldn't tell from this distance, but the glass looked like vials of some sort. 

But Kirsty was more focused on how their body seemed to...shimmer with unnatural looking motion. Even going so far as to go opaque a few times, showing the viewport through a soapy windowpane shaped like a person. Kirsty didn't think she needed to ask, but it paid to be sure about these sorts of things.

Carpenter: That them? ::she said through the side of her pursed lips toward Syrex::

Syrex: RESPONSE

The being ahead of them that wore the face of an ally spoke without turning to regard them.

Changeling Agent: Happy Frontier Day. ::they point to the platform outside:: Yer gonna love the presents. 

Kirsty blanched slightly at the voice, shards of phlegm thrown into a pressure press, but stepped forward all the same, flanked by her people and Syrex.

Carpenter: Stand down. I won't ask twice.

The Agent scoffed, their whole neck trembling with the sound. Kirsty now noticed that even the approximation of the skin tone they had taken looked...sallow. Sickly. Just what had been in those vials? And would it be enough to give them the drop on them?

Changeling Agent: Monoforms. Always tryin' to swim uphill. Or is it...

They finally turned to face them, a dozen faces skirting across the surface of their body as they steadied. One was Larry Hansen of DS33. One was Captain Niac briefly. The one it settled on (with some effort apparently) was their original form, the Gold uniform, just with a body that looked almost completely devoid of any identifying humanoid traits. It was like a prototype of a person was standing ahead of them. 

Changeling Agent: Oh, whatever...

It surged forward, moving over, no through one of the tables ahead of them. One limb shot forward in a solid cylindrical tube, sending Weintraub and his icers back and into the corridor once more with an audible "OOF!" while another tendril opened like a flowering petal up and across the firing grip Kirsty was trying to bring her weapon up and into. Lamia was able to squeeze off a few shots, only by virtue of her quick draw after casting aside the tracker, but the Agent's body undulated wildly, sending the high setting stun bolts sparking uselessly across the surface of the mess. 

The top of the Agent's torso flowed forward, face to face with Kirsty. She now could smell them and what she smelled was baking sickness. Whatever was happening with this being it was starting to eat through them, but the rage in their featureless face couldn't be denied.

Changeling Agent: Once our Alliance is through, the universe will be-

She silenced his prattle with a savage and sudden headbutt. One that seemed to shock him (and denting their head with the force of the blow) into a mostly solid state. But best of all, backward. Freeing her hands and her weapon. She didn't waste a second, thankfully, neither did Lamia. A cannonade of stun bolts peppered the body of the Agent, driving them into a sitting position at the very same table they had ignore the physical properties of just a few seconds earlier.

They couldn't dodge, but two ropes of milky Gold slime shot from the being's shoulders, slapping cloyingly at their weapons. But Kirsty was already trying to close the space, pressing the little advantage they had. Though not nearly with enough speed, she stepped heavily up onto the table's bench seat with her left foot and brought her right surging upward. Catching the Agent flush (oO Thank God. Oo) with the point of her knee in a sort of halfcocked superhero flight stance.

She had heard her fallen Zero Company brother, Beam, once call that the G.T.S. The Go To Sleep. But right now it seemed just like the Go To Stunned, as limbs seemingly made of wet sand started to try and gain purchase around the sides of her hips. She started to drive her elbow downward into the top of the Agent's murky head, shouting over her shoulder as she did so.

Carpenter: ENSIGN! THE ICERS!

Syrex/Any: RESPONSE

--

TAG/TBC

--

Lieutenant Commander

Kirsty L. Carpenter

//\\

Chief of Security & Tactical

Starfleet SAR

(Marine Rank: Major)

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U.S.S. RONIN

NCC-34523

ID: E239512QC0

//\\

F.N.S. Contributor