Lt.JG T’Fearne - Lustre Dust [Part 1]
Teayl Thorn
((Security Complex, Deck 11, USS Ronin))
T’Fearne: Sir… do you think it's a trap? :: pausing at the various expressions both men gave her :: Eighty-seven per cent of away missions I’ve been assigned to since my arrival on the Ronin have included a trap or a trick of some sort of subterfuge. Statistically, it would be logical to assume hostile intent or manipulation as operating procedure in the Alpha Isles.
oO It’s not paranoia if it's true. Oo
She let the statistic sit on the deck for the Humans to make what they wanted of it.
Chief Kessler glanced up from his PADD, expression unreadable. He seemed to be weighing the risks. The silence stretched as he tapped it once, twice, against his palm.
Kessler: ::tapping his PADD against his other hand lightly:: T'Fearne, see what you can find on the Rose. Anything that might be useful. Last known points of berth. Crew rotations over the past year. Cargo, both for the ship and cargo picked up and delivered to other destinations. Scan the CMO's logs for anything that stands out as unusual. ::turning to Deacon:: Lieutenant, lets start with onboard quarantine protocols. We'll assume this is not a hostile threat. Issue quarantine handling protocols to all Security. Then I want you to dig into the detailed scans of the Rose. Her offensive and defensive abilities. Have they been modified in any way? Look for anything that might lend to this being a trap.
She disagreed with the assumption of the situation not being treated as a hostile threat, but it wasn’t her call, and perhaps her paranoia was getting the best of her. She let out an imperceptible sigh.
Deacon: Response
T’Fearne: Understood, Sir. I’ll copy you both in on my report once the information is compiled.
She turned crisply and returned to her console. The data she needed was likely already available in a report, probably compiled by Ops, but she layered in Kessler’s requests, refining search parameters to flag anomalies and cross-reference any manifest inconsistencies. Halfway through correlating the CMO’s records with planetary survey logs, the Chief called out, pulling her from the depths of the report.
Kessler: T'Fearne ::turning to face her:: Change of plans. Get to the shuttlebay. I am embedding you in the boarding party. I want eyes on that ship and your it.
T'Fearne: Yes, sir. I'll assess and report. If there’s something off about their quarantine status, I’ll find it.
Kessler: Agreed but I want you armed and safe. ::turning to Deacon:: Lieutenant, keep digging.
Deacon: Response
T’Fearne lifted her chin in acknowledgment and secured her PADD before striding from the room as the Lt.’s continued their discussion. Her boots echoed cleanly against the deck as she made her way to the Armoury to collect her security gear.
((Timeskip - Armory, Security Complex, Deck 11, USS Ronin arrived at Kappa-214 System))
T’Fearne felt the ship smoothly drop out of warp deep within the Kappa 214 system, the subtle hum of the impulse engines kicking in, vibrating the deck beneath her feet. She guessed the Ronin was closing in fast on the Compass Rose.
Knowing she’d likely be outfitted in PPE or an EVA suit once closer to boarding, T’Fearne packed rather than wore her customary gear, a set of T2 phasers with the pistol grip, thigh holsters in a gear bag, along with a security tricorder, and a few other weapons and tools she probably wouldn’t need but would regret lacking in a crisis.
One thing that was conspicuously absent was her personal CQC batons, currently being modified by Lt. Morgan. She still hadn’t managed to check in with the engineer to see if there had been any progress. She spent several moments replicating the components to assemble a temporary replacement. After adjusting the weight balance and testing the snap-deploy of the telescoping Akai sticks, her comm chirped, and Alyndra commed her.
Syrex: =/\= Lieutenant Junior Grades Om-Zora, T’Fearne and Ensign Roop please meet me in shuttlebay one. =/\=
Om-Zora: Acknowledged. I’ll be there shortly.
Roop: =/\= Ensign Roop, here. Understood, Lieutenant. =/\=
The Vulcazoid smiled as she snap-retracted the baton, satisfied, grabbed her gear and pressed two fingers to her comm.
T’Fearne: =/\= Already en route, Lieutenant =/\=
She strode out of the complex and onto the turbolift and was whisked away towards the shuttle bay on Deck 09. The situation could be dire, likely dangerous, but she couldn’t help the curl of a smile that ghosted at the edges of her lips.
One way or another, the crew of the Ronin would uncover the truth about the Compas Rose.
[Only Tags for Deacon / TBC]
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Security Officer
USS Ronin - NCC-34523
R240107T14