Lt. JG T’Fearne - The Black Rose
Teayl Thorn
Jack looked back to T'Fearne and then his gaze roamed around the bay before snapping to something in the gloom of the Torpedo Bay.
Kessler: Did you hear that? ::gesturing::over there.
Looking back up from the depths of the maintenance hatch and noticing Kessler's sudden tension, T’Fearne eased her glove free of the torpedo's casing, straightened slowly, and followed his line of sight.
T’Fearne: No, I didn’t hear anything either. One of the Rose’s crew?
Kessler: No. Something different. ::beat:: If I didn't know that this virus was affecting my mind, I'd say it was some sort of large, synthetic spider.
Her brows knit over dark eyes, hand brushing over the curve of a holstered phaser. She didn’t draw it. Instead, her other hand found the hilt of her akai, fingers tightening on the familiar grip.
T’Fearne: Check anyway. I’ll cover you.
Kessler: ::smiling:: Just don't shoot me yet.
She almost logically reminded him that firing a phaser in the torpedo bay would be catastrophic, and that she would never allow such a thing. The words hovered on the tip of her tongue until she realised…he was joking. The tone, the smirk, the levity in a compartment stacked with live warheads…Something about it tugged at a memory of her mother’s sly wit and infuriating humour.
She quelled a sigh of irritation. She liked it when things were straightforward and logical. Less likely that she would misunderstand something or miss a behavioural or social cue. She could already tell that Kessler was going to be interesting to work with. His command style was more wry, adaptive and quick with a quip, a change from Kirsty’s blunt, straight-shot approach.
At least Alyndra had already given her standing authority as ACMO to disarm him if it came to that. A useful permission. One she filed away in the quiet order of her thoughts as she shifted her grip on the akai and kept moving.
The bay’s red emergency lights guttered. Shadows pooled deeper around the racks. Was that something stirring in the gloom? Or a trick of overstimulated minds?
A new voice broke across the comm, addressing Kessler.
Shortrith: =/\= Mr Kessler, I'm sorry you have to hear this from us… =/\=
She glanced from Kessler to the bay of armed torpedoes around her. She didn’t recognise the voice, and they had not introduced themselves, so she assumed it was someone the Chief already knew.
Raga/Niac/Nicolau/Shortrith: =/\= Response =/\=
Kessler: =/\= Tarellian? I see. Any news on how this was engineered? Or is this a mutation all of its own? =/\=
One of her slanted brows quirked up, unsure. Jack noted her expression and smiled slightly.
T'Fearne: I’m not sure I follow the significance.
Kessler: ::Keeping comms open:: =/\= Sorry, my mother was a Medical Doctor and an Exo-Species Biologist. As you might expect deadly viruses were not an uncommon topic with her. ::pulling his tricorder out and flipping it open:: Given that no scans have revealed what we know about the Tarellian Virus then it stands that this is engineered to be different or it mutated, correct? =/\=
Raga/Niac/Nicolau/Shortrith: =/\= Response =/\=
T’Fearne swallowed. Merely the junior security officer aboard, she didn’t know about viruses, plagues or other medical factors. What she knew of the disease was simple and terrifying: It whittled people down with paranoia and violence, leaving only black slime behind. She didn’t know how she could keep Kessler safe from that. This one would be up to Syrex, Beck, Kel and the scientists aboard the Ronin. They had to come up with something to help him.
T'Fearne: ::quietly confident:: The Ronin’s doctors and scientists, they will find something to help.
Kessler: =/\= What about medical records from Doctor Wyatt Earp? oO No, wrong history Jack. Oo, Wait, Wyatt Hiller....Wyatt Miller. Yeah Miller, didn't he stay in touch with Starfleet for a while about the plague ship he was aboard? =/\=
Raga/Niac/Nicolau/Shortrith: =/\= Response =/\=
T’Fearne opened her mouth…
…when Kessler suddenly snapped his phaser rifle off his back and brought it swiftly to bear on a heading, rifle-mounted illumination beaming towards…towards…nothing, a bulkhead, chasing after something only he could see or hear. Still, he prowled after it, chasing phantoms.
The Vulcazoid followed, quieter, eyes falling to the medkit he’d left behind. The hypospray was still there. She palmed it, tucking it out of sight, and shadowed him. They had used her cuffs to secure the three Rose crew and then given them all a sedative from Kessler's medical kit.
Kessler: ::continuing his thought but motioning T'Fearne to a pincer movement from his right:: =/\= I'm thinking I'm not dead yet, but will be. If this was mutated then you have a far bigger issue on your hands. If this was engineered then there's a cure. the engineers wouldn't be stupid enough to follow in the Tarellian's footsteps and resequence a virus that was known to wipe out civilizations without ensuring their own was protected. Unless of course they were naturally immune. Which means we could develop a cure from them, right? =/\=
Raga/Niac/Nicolau/Shortrith: =/\= Response =/\=
Reaching the stack of containers the shadowy figure disappeared behind, Kessler stepped quickly and turned the corner, phaser rifle at the ready. Nothing. Again nothing was there.
She glanced away from meeting his eye and flipped open her tricorder, voice deliberately even.
T'Fearne: I’ll check for lifesigns. ::looking down:: I’m sorry, sir. Nothing else is registering with the basic scan.
Kessler: ::tapping his comms closed:: I swear there was something here. I'm not......
Seeing the Chief grinding his teeth together and not wanting to make him feel worse than he already was, she tried a last-ditch effort, mostly to humour him, but also because she knew she was a little paranoid at times, nothing wrong with a little paranoia in her view. She gently shook her tricorder device as if to reset it.
T'Fearne: This um, this tricorder is just a basic model, not calibrated for picking up tachyons or subspace distortions, but I can look for dead zones, telltale areas that might indicate the use of a cloaking device or field.
Oddly enough, there were a few locations nearby in the outrigger that had the quality of a dead zone, nothing there, even the background radiation was absent…maybe masked or cloaked? Or nothing was sometimes just nothing.
She glanced up, about to share her findings, his arm moved as if to tap his comm when he aborted the action and seemingly stared through her snapped his weapon to his shoulder. She felt a rush of shock that he would turn on her and then a resigned sense of recrimination that she hadn’t disarmed him earlier. She had just enough time to think…
oO Well, Fea, this is what you get for trusting people. Oo
Then he was past her, brushing her rigid shoulder in his rush, still intent on chasing his shadows, scurrying into the comms buoy stacks of the double-deck bay. She took a deep breath and turned to follow.
It was time for Chief Kessler to take a well-deserved nap.
She stalked him through the bay, though she kept her demeanour deliberately casual. She had very little range or control over her empathic sense, but now she strained to catch him, curious for even a fleeting hint of what he was feeling.
T’Fearne caught sight of him again, staring at a blank interior hull wall and didn’t need to be an empath to read dejection written clearly in the lines of his form. Thankfully he had lowered his rifle, he glanced at her for a moment, and without any definable outward sign, later she would not be able to tell what if anything had changed about the chief, but she watched as his face seemed to drain of something, maybe the usual humour and vitality that she was coming to recognise as part of his personality slipped behind a mask.
She shrugged and decided on the straightforward approach. She put her Akai and tricorder away and held both gloved hands out in front of her, empty and palm up making direct eye contact with the human.
Kessler: Response
T'Fearne: Chief Kessler, with respect, it’s time. Please hand me your weapons, sir.
She waited, pointedly ignoring any odd behaviour. It probably wasn’t the appropriate thing to do. If a counsellor had been on hand, she might have let them handle this with more tact, but they were alone here, and she was worried about how he might react if she tried to rush him or trick him. She was painfully aware of the glowing racks of explosives in the bay. Any stray shot from him could end them all. Her pulse pounded in her throat.
Kessler: Response
oO Great Fire, don’t let me hurt my boss in what might be his dying hours! Oo
She felt a vile spike of emotion twist in her abdomen. It was clear that something in his mood and emotions had shifted. She knew he likely couldn’t help it, a chemical reaction was taking place in his brain, but a small, angry part of her that she kept tightly bound writhed in response to his madness. She put her hand to her heart and surreptitiously pressed her comm.
T'Fearne: =/\= Commander Kel…V’Len…is your friend, isn't he? Chief Kessler? =/\=
She tried to open a comm to the Ronin’s Two-Oh and used Kessler's professional title, hoping to call him to reason. He seemed to be listening.
T'Fearne: =/\= We knew that this might happen, Sir. It seems that we now have evidence that you are indeed infected by the plague released on the Rose and is affecting her crew. You may be experiencing one of the first symptoms. Seeing things, experiencing paranoia. We are trying to save them. ::earnestly:: Will you help me, Sir? =/\=
Winters: Response
The voice came out of nowhere. They had both been hyper-focused on the moment, and T’Fearne had no warning or hint of the sudden appearance of a figure in a strange EV suit. The voice coming from the suit was only vaguely familiar to her. She forwent trying to place it and instead took advantage of the temporary distraction.
Kessler: Response
As he was distracted, she swiftly slid her hypo over the edge of his suit neck and kissed it to the side of his throat, releasing its tiny payload, grateful that he had discarded the helmet. It was over in a second, and she watched him stumble back, clutching for a rifle that was now resting in her hands. As he slid flat to the deck, T’Fearne sighed and glanced at the newcomer's face plate as the camouflage-suited figure approached, heavy boots striking across the deckplates.
T'Fearne: Thanks for the assist, Captain. He’s likely experiencing some sort of paranoia, a symptom we have observed in the Rose crew who have been infected. ::pause:: Do you think he’ll hold it against me?
Winters: Response
She dipped her head in gratitude, then thumbed her comm again. Resuming her communication with Kel.
T'Fearne: =/\= T’Fearne to Commander Kel, apologies if I alarmed you, Commander. I’ve had to sedate Chief Kessler momentarily. He seems to be progressing to the stage of the Black Tear plague where paranoia and hallucinations may become more frequent. =/\=
She filled him in swiftly on the situation.
Kel: =/\= Response Optional =/\=
((Time Skip))
T’Fearne left Winters tend to Kessler as best she saw fit, making him as comfortable as they could while he had, she hoped, a refreshing little nap. She hadn’t checked what level of dose the hypo had been set to deliver, she just sniped him with the preset dose and headed back to the Torpedo racks.
She found the Roses warhead stasis canisters in a compartment under the torpedo racks and began painstakingly manually releasing the antimatter pods from each torpedo into it’s stasis canister. With the antimatter removed, she was able to stabilise and render the torpedoes inert. The first one took fifteen minutes as she moved painstakingly slowly, second-guessing every move, even though it was only slightly different from the practical scenario at the academy in ordinance handling. Winters pitched in to help and things began to speed up, but not enough. They needed more help, and Kessler knew what he was doing with ordinance handling.
She crouched by Kessler, patting his cheek gently, then briskly until his eyes fluttered open. Maintaining a very professional expression on her face as Kessler came around.
T'Fearne: Chief Kessler. Are you with me, sir?
Winters: Response
Kessler: Response
It seemed like the brief nap had helped his mood, if only things could always be so simple. She knew it wouldn’t last, but if they were going to disarm all the torpedoes, then they needed his help. Michele would keep his weapons, they had been removed from his possession while he slept, and T’Fearne trusted Winters to know where he kept all his weapons.
Relief flickered over her features, though she kept her tone crisp.
T'Fearne: Apologies, Sir. You can bring me up on charges later, when you are feeling better. Do you feel up to helping Michele and I manually eject antimatter pods into stasis canisters today?
Winters: Response
It was strange that in the half hour she had spent working with the marine, she felt comfortable with using her first name. Something about the direness of the situation, she supposed.
Kessler: Response
[Tags / TBC]
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Security Officer
USS Ronin - NCC-34523
R240107T14