Lt. JG T’Fearne - Security’s Gambit
Teayl Thorn
((OOC: Picking up a passed tag in a brief flashback. ))
((Flashback))
((En-rout to Starboard Pylon, Deck 04, USS Compass Rose))
T’Fearne wasted no time clearing her path through the gutted corridors, boots carefully muted, but still a steady rhythm against deck plates as she moved from Engineering toward the starboard pylon. The personnel trolley, quaintly archaic yet usually reliable, would have whisked her to the Outrigger in moments. Instead, the system’s power-deprived silence mocked her urgency when the call panel remained unresponsive beneath her demanding tap.
Jaw tightening, she turned instead to the diagonal Jefferies tube that ran alongside the dormant track. Normally, a maintenance shaft, in this moment, was her only road forward, slanting downward into a yawning dark. She bent to peer her helmet into its narrow mouth, just as her comm-unit chirped suddenly in the silence, making her jump.
Syrex: =/\= Syrex to T’Fearne, Jack is compromised. If he shows signs of paranoia, disarm him. =/\=
Gloved hand brushed the comforting shape of the EV suit's delta, grounding her.
T’Fearne: =/\= Understood and acknowledged, Lieutenant. :: a pause, then softer :: Don't worry, Alyndra, I’ll look out for him. And if I have to disarm him… I promise I’ll be gentle. :: a smirk curled at her lips :: When this mission is done, I have a pillow with your name on it and some holodeck time accrued. T’Fearne out. =/\=
The threat was lighthearted and was meant to draw her friend into thoughts of life returning to normal after this mission. It was a particularly gruelling one, hours seemed to be grinding by like weeks within the confines of their EV suits, punctuated by moments of terror and violence.
Kessler's voice came over the comm a moment later, confirming where to meet.
Kessler: =/\=T'Fearne, I'll meet you on Deck Nine, torpedo bay. I have an engineers kit and a med kit but if you can find a second engineering kit that would be helpful.=/\=
She felt a cool thrill run down her spine and let herself shudder for a moment, then she steeled herself and dove into the dark maw of the passage.
((End of Flashback))
((Some Minutes Later – Jefferies Tube Outside Torpedo/Magazine Bay, Deck 09, USS Compass Rose))
T’Fearne drew a slender cylinder from her pocket. A flick of her wrist extended it into a telescoping baton of matt black alloy. The soft “snick” as the akai stick locked into place was swallowed by the oppressive silence of the corridor. Letting the baton rest at her side, its familiar weight a comfort.
T’Fearne: Then low-tech it is.
Kessler: You're full of surprises. I like that. ::beat:: Timing will be crucial. We need to take all three out and then get these torpedoes offline. There are three of them, two of us. We hit the two closest to the torpedo controls, take the third and furthest out last. Thoughts?
She let herself breathe into the moment, thinking. A surge of calm washed through her, from her own discipline or perhaps something steadying flowing from Kessler’s presence. Either way, it centred her.
For the first time since boarding the Rose, she felt clarity. This was the razor’s edge she had trained for and, in some ways, exactly what she was meant for.
T’Fearne: What if we flank them? The lights are low, we only have emergency power. We enter quietly, ghost along the comms buoy racks, close the distance quietly, then strike.
Kessler: Sounds good to me. ::pulling a hypospray from the medkit:: It might not be a fancy thing like you have there but it should knock them out.
She allowed herself a small smile as he held up the hypo, fishing out a bundle of lightweight cuff restraints from her pack in response.
T’Fearne: Perfect, probably more appropriate for the situation than this!
Kessler: ::nodding:: The launch control station is on the port side back there ::pointing:: it looks like. You have that one. I'll take the one to their left and then we converge on the third.
T’Fearne: Got it. We incapacitate as swiftly as we can and then restrain them and sort them out later.
Kessler: OK, let's get into position and then we go on your mark.
But before she could reply, he jerked, his face tightening as he scanned the gloom. She snapped her phaser free, stepping shoulder-to-shoulder with him. She saw nothing, felt nothing but the faint echo of Jack’s momentary unease.
T’Fearne: Sir? What is it? Are you alright?
He took a beat too long to answer.
Kessler: Fine. Doing just fine. Lets do this before this damn virus does anything more to me.
She holstered her weapon but kept her gaze on him. oO You don’t need to be infected by a virus to feel the gnawing pressure of this kind of mission. Oo She thought about that moment in Sickbay, or had it been several moments where she was sure there was another person standing in the room with her team. Still, she kept her face impassive. There’d be time for sympathy later, maybe.
If this were an early symptom of infection, she would have to watch him carefully, maybe a call with the ship's counsellor would help, but for now, the Rose and the Ronin away teams needed his help and expertise.
He seemed to regather himself, raising the hypo with a reassuring nod.
((Torpedo/Magazine Bay, Deck 09, USS Compass Rose))
They slipped inside the cavernous torpedo bay like shadows, separating and slinking along the outside of the racks of probes and buoys, moving into position. T’Fearne crouched in the amber gloom, eyes on the trio of Rose crew. Humans, at least two of them. The third… harder to tell. She took careful note of their positions and who was closest to her and Kessler. The one at the control console needed to go down first.
Glancing over at the flanking position, she caught sight of Kessler from her vantage point. They had decided to go on Jack's count, and she crouched, like a coiled 1shatarr, ready to strike. Kessler’s gloved hand signalled the count. Three fingers… two… one… none.
T’Fearne launched herself towards the security officer at the console. Something in the sound of her movement had the woman tossing a glance over her shoulder, loose ragged hair framing mad eyes and pulling a phaser swiftly from her hip, finger on the trigger, but it was too late. T’Fearne guided her akai to crack down on the woman's wrist with enough force to break bone.
CRACK
The phaser clattered from the woman’s numb hand, a shriek of pain tearing through the bay. T’Fearne let her momentum carry her into the woman, swiftly tripping her to the ground with a rough push. She regretted not knowing the finer points of the Vulcan nerve pinch technique, which would be useful in these situations. Instead, she swiftly flipped the woman over while she was still stunned and slipped a hand restraint onto the woman’s other wrist.
She glanced over at Kessler to see the Chief dropping the burly Security officer with an unusual hypo strike to the ankle, while he was lying on the ground. She didn’t have time to think too much about the Chief's technique.
Two stories of torpedoes stacked in their racks loomed above them, their lights faintly glowing, indicating an active status. The third Rose officer, a Human with maybe Klingon or Tellarite heritage, spun towards the nearest torpedo in its magazine rack on the deck. He tore an access hatch open. Fingers plunged into the live warhead’s controls.
T’Fearne slammed into him, not having time for anything else. She hit him with her momentum, ripping him off the rack but not quite bringing him to the ground as he twisted at the last moment, throwing her off. His uniform was slick with some substance, and her gloved hands had trouble keeping purchase. He grabbed for her helmet, hands going round her suit collar, dragging her off balance. She twisted, attempting to throw him to the deckplating. She managed to get behind him, snaking her akai under his chin and pulling the hard meta across his airway, and anchoring her legs around his torso to keep him still.
T’Fearne: ::through gritted teeth:: Listen, we are Starfleet officers, we are not trying to hurt you. Stand down! ::straining:: Trank him, now, Sir.
She struggled to hold him still without causing too much damage. Kessler darted in, pressed the hypo to flesh. The man went limp.
With the three Rose crew in the Torpedo Bay unconscious or restrained, the Ronin officers re-grouped. T’Fearne exhaled, letting Kessler drag her back to her feet. She was breathing hard but not strained, and he also seemed unharmed.
Kessler: ::breathing heavily and smiling:: Next time, you get the big guy. ::almost laughing:: OK, bad guys down. Lets see what we they were doing.
T’Fearne: ::wry calm:: Gladly, and you can take two of the three next time. And sir… they’re not “bad guys”. This could be you in a few…
Her voice faltered. She hadn’t meant to bring up his condition, but rather share a gentle reminder of why they had both worked so hard not to hurt these crewmembers, unnecessarily.
oO It could have been the Ronin, investigating a distress signal from a freighter. The Rose crew could be friends, classmates from the academy, or people we have shared drinks with at various sector stations across the Alpha Isles. Oo
Kessler: Response
A chirp from her tricorder shattered the moment. Her tricorder, set to alert if any of the torpedoes' signatures seemed in imminent danger of exploding.
T’Fearne: ::urgent:: He opened the torpedo, did something before I could get to him. It’s going to explode. Can you stop it?
She gestured urgently at the torpedo in question, a hatch still open to expose its controls.
Kessler: Response
She slapped a transporter tag to the torpedo's casing.
T’Fearne: I can get it out it out now, before it starts a chain reaction. :: slamming a hand on the comm :: =/\= Luster, lock on to transporter tag at my location and immediately beam torpedo into space, 50 klicks clear of both ships. Energise! =/\=
Kessler: Response
The suttlecraft’s computer system seemed to take minutes to reply, in which T’Fearne felt as though every nerve ending in her body was anticipating incineration.
Lusters computer eventually gave an acknowledging chirp and the torpedo began to shimmer in the rack. She desperately hoped that the energy displacement of the transporter didn’t set any of the other torpedoes off.
T’Fearne: Hold on to something. This didn’t go well last time.
She crouched low, gloves gripped onto the torpedo rack, anticipating an upheaval like the last one.
Seconds ticked by wth no heavy shockwave.
Uncurling tentatively from her crouch, the Vulcazoid glanced over at Kessler.
T’Fearne: Do you think you disarmed it before it beamed away, or that the Luster got the distance correct this time?
Kessler: Response
[Tags / TBC]
OOC: 1shatarr - Poisonous, striking lizards that live under rocks or in small caves and burrows on Vulcan.
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Security Officer
USS Ronin - NCC-34523
R240107T14