Ensign T’Fearne - Goldilocks Effect
Teayl Thorn
((OOC: Today marks the 🎉anniversary 🎉 of my first sim in the community.))
((OOC: Also as I return from a short LOA this sim takes place after T’Fearne returns to the Ronin after a few weeks' absence. TLDR - T’Fearne returned to PS4’s colony early to help with investigating the aftermath of the train and station sabotage, followed a lead into the mountains tracking possible terrorist collaborators and lost comm contact for a couple of days and had a bit of an adventure getting rescued.))
((T’Fearne’s Quarters - Deck 8 - USS Ronin))
T'Fearne set foot back on the Ronin a little worse for wear. She scraped herself aboard, half-limped down the corridor with the wary gait of someone who’d spent the last week sleeping on rock and instinct. Dust-streaks sticking to her green-tinged cuts and grazes. Her stride was stiff with effort, her boots scuffed, and her once-crisp uniform torn and stained. The colony investigation had turned chaotic, fast. What had started as analysis and interviews had ended in a trek through hostile terrain, a comms blackout, and a very narrow window for rescue.
She made for her quarters, grateful for the quiet of the ship’s corridors, knowing she was a slight spectacle of a bedraggled officer, ducking her head as a passing crewman gave her a curious glance. She needed, urgently, to incinerate her uniform and scrape the last few days from her skin with a sonic shower.
Hopefully, Alyndra had something handy to treat the minor wounds, scraped palms, bruised feet, the grazed shins and elbows, the long shallow gash along her left calf, so she could avoid the trip to sickbay.
When she entered, the lights were off.
T’Fearne: Computer, :: rasped, throat dry :: Lights!
The room bathed itself in soft illumination. Empty. Alyndra was nowhere in sight.
oO Probably on duty. Oo
T’Fearne got herself a glass of chilled water, peeled off the remains of her uniform. She nearly flung the ruined jacket onto the nearest surface, the CMO’s stolen sofa, jammed in the corner of the room, until she spotted a neat stack of her own laundry, folded on the cushion, pristine and undisturbed. A small furrow appeared between her sharp brows. Something seemed off about that.
She diverted her action, dropping everything, even boots, straight into the recycler chute with a weary flick of her wrist. The five-minute sonic shower only took the edge off the grime. She still felt planet in her pores and under her fingernails, the ones that weren’t torn at least. Brushing her teeth, she moved to grab a towel, paused, and an odd scent hit her nostrils.
oO Wrong! Oo
Not her towel. Not Alyndra’s either. The scent was subtle, but definitely foreign. Someone else had been in her quarters and used a towel.
She thought about it. There were several obvious possibilities.
oO A guest? Oo
Maybe Alyndra had a guest while she was away, or a friend needed to borrow the shower. But this was no familiar scent, definitely not Sybil, or Tess, she would have been able to tell immediately. Stepping out of the head, she donned a fresh uniform and looked around slowly, eyes scanning the room anew.
The room was different.
The laundry. She left in a rush without folding it. Alyndra’s toy prototypes were gone. So was the spotted-glaze clay pot. The plant T’Fearne had gifted her…gone, too. Objects shifted. PADD's realigned. Pillows fluffed differently. Everything was just slightly off from when she’d left it.
Then it hit her like a smack to the forehead.
Alyndra had been promoted. She would’ve moved to solo officer quarters a while ago.
She turned toward the bunk. Someone, not Alyndra, had been folding her clothes, using the towels, and sleeping on the top bunk. The Vulcazoid's patience was long, but T'Fearne felt irritation bloom like static behind her temples. Someone had moved a stranger officer into her quarters while she had been working, and no one had notified her!
The door swished open behind her.
She turned, still barefoot, damp hair clinging in curls to her neck, as a strange Vulcan brazenly strode into her quarters. Not even appearing startled to find her there.
There was a tense pause as the two officers regarded eachother from under sharply slanted eyebrows.
T’Fearne inhaled, smoothing her voice, attempting to play gracious host despite her weary state. She slowly splayed her scraped fingers in the traditional 1ta’al.
T’Fearne: :: quietly clearing her throat :: 2Na'shaya. Nash-veh shar'es T'Fearne. Ish-veh saudau ik etek ma vesh' tor u' roommates. :: switching to Federation Standard :: I suppose you were assigned here while I was away briefly, Ensign…?
Vylax: Response
T’Fearne: I seem to have luck that sees me paired with medical personnel. Your predecessor :: indicating the bunk :: is one of Ronin’s doctors. This is my first posting out of the Academy, I’ve been on the Ronin for a year, :: checking the ship's crono :: As of today, actually.
Vylax: Response
She offered a nod, out of politeness more than enthusiasm. Vulcan reserve was useful for this exact kind of mildly infuriating situation. Trying to get through the interaction with politeness and what little effort she could muster, T’Fearne gestured reassuringly, welcoming the acting ensign into what she realised now was her quarters too now.
Returning to the bunk to take a eat, easing herself down. Her muscles ached with protest. She grabbed fresh socks, sliding them over bruised feet, pulling on her black boots with ginger fingers. The routine grounded her. She looked up again.
T’Fearne: So, where are you from, 3ne-lan? :: guessing :: 4Minshara?
A wave of nostalgia hit her as she thought back to a year prior, when Commander Alieth had asked her almost the exact same question on her first day aboard.
Vylax: Response
[Tag, You’re It! / TBC]
OOC:
1Vulcan gesture of greeting, you know the one 🖖
2Vulcan Translation - “Welcome. I am security officer T'Fearne. It appears that we have been made as roommates.”
3ne-lan → Vuhlkansu, trainee, one who is being trained; student (honorific)
4Minshara → Vuhlkansu, one of the names for Vulcan (planet)
===============================
Security Officer
USS Ronin - NCC-34523
R240107T14