Lt. Cmdr. Ian O'Connor- Ah, to be Young Again.
rob mahardy
((Inside The Creche, within The Lid on Moon Sigma, Ross-580 Gas Giant A))
O’Connor: Lt. T’Fearne and I will check out the rest of the rooms along this corridor and hopefully be right back.
The Vulcazoid security officer gave a brusque nod and started to follow Ian out when Wren called out.
Wren: Oh, take this with you! ::passing them her tricorder:: It’ll beep if there’s a time-space ripple.
T’Fearne: Thank you Ensign. Stay alert Doctor. Comm if you need us.
T’Fearne took the tricorder and clipped it into her suit. It hung beside her type-three phaser rifle that was swung neatly over her shoulder and she drew a type-two pistol and held it low but ready. Ian gave her a nod and she fell into step beside him, matching his careful, limping pace down the corridor, leaving Renaie and Wren behind with their unexpected nursery.
Shortrith: Go well- owww don't bite me you little-
Renaie’s parting comment cut off as they headed further down the corridor. T’Fearne allowed herself a brief, sardonic smirk and Ian gave her a slight smile agreeing with her unspoken thought.
((OOC: leaving Renaie and Delphina’s conversion out unless they yell or comm T'Fearne and Ian. ))
((Corridor inside The Lid, Moon Sigma in orbit of Gas Giant A, Ross 580 System))
The corridor ahead was eerily pristine, far newer than the exterior damage suggested. Light panels glowed steadily, walls unmarred, the air still. They moved through a sequence of rooms like this, untouched. Everything seemed like it was just built. Ian was periodically tapping on his tricorder trying to implement an idea he had about their babysitting situation and almost missed noticing that the corridor abruptly changed.
Lights flickered. Grime smeared the walls in uneven stains. Dust lay thick along the base of the walls, gathered in drifts as though no one had walked here in decades. He changed his scanning mode and began a different survey.
The lieutenant slowed and Ian with her. Seeing something that shined back a bit of light in the dimness, his awareness edged up just a bit more. He turned to the side and pushed a pile of debris out of the way watching it crumble further into dust.
He almost jumped when T’Fearne tapped his shoulder and gestured to the remains.
Bones. Humanoid. Ancient enough that only the largest had retained their shape, the rest reduced to pale fragments. He frowned and shook his head.
O'Connor: Easily hundreds of years decay. This is nuts.
He bent down and brushed through the remains. He picked up a small chunk of what might have once been an ID badge and held it up in the flickering light.
O’Connor: What the hell have they unleashed here? Doesn’t it seem like Starfleet is always cleaning up the mess after some arrogant scientist's half-baked experiment goes awry? :: He stood back up and turned back to T’Fearne meeting her gaze:: I guess it doesn’t matter at least for the moment.
T’Fearne: That is an entirely rational response.
O'Connor: Maybe, but it’s certainly a totally irrational situation. C’mon, let’s push on and try to save anyone we can. ::Wincing from his leg, he stood back up from his crouch and tossed the ID back on the pile, sighing::
Her borrowed tricorder chirped once—then erupted into a shrill, continuous alarm.
Ian had taken a couple steps ahead but turned back to see T’Fearne froze, eyes darting, trying to triangulate the threat.
T’Fearne: Ian… hold—
He stopped, half in motion back toward her, his eyes becoming saucers.
The wall to their right rippled. It moved like fabric snapped in a violent wind. Dust lifted, then vanished entirely. Stains raced backward along the wall, undoing themselves in real time.
T’Fearne lunged sideways, shoving Ian hard as some giant uncaring force tore through reality. The force slammed her back, pinning her to the wall as reality peeled. Ian could see the shimmering in the air as it engulfed her.
He tried to stagger to his feet and reached out searing pain shot through his arms as he did. He felt like he was being pulled tight from the inside, drawing into his core. His suit became loose and he fell back, hands shaking.
T’Fearne had staggered and dropped to one knee, phaser still clenched in one hand, the other pressed to the ground. Something wasn’t right.
She seemed…
oO smaller? Oo
O'Connor: T’Fearne, Hey, Hey. You o- ::he voice caught in his throat awkwardly:: -kay?
T’Fearne: ::high pitched, through clenched teeth, forcing control:: Ian…I’m—here. But something’s wrong.
O'Connor: Yeah, uh you don’t …you…::he cleared his throat again::
T’Fearne: Yes, unfortunately, I think I just de-aged about 17 years—give or take. Are you alright?
O'Connor: Yeah, yeah, I think so. Thanks to you. :: He looked down at himself:: I don’t think I…umm…de-olded as ::his voice cracked as one’s does during puberty:: as much.
He smiled at her awkwardly.
O’Connor: We should go back. Have the doc look us “rascals” over.
Ian reached out to help the “young” security officer up off one knee.
T’Fearne: Response
Farther back toward where they’d come from aback lit shape caught his eye. It had just skittered out of a side room and came to a dead stop right in their path back as it noticed them.
Ian shined a beam light in its direction to see a bit better.
O’Connor: Oh, hey there little guy.
As Ian reached out forward, the baby Tholian reared back, made an incomprehensible shrill sound and leapt forward.
oO Oh, shi…Oo
T’Fearne: Response
TBC/Tags
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Lieutenant Commander Ian O’Connor
HCO
USS Ronin NCC-34523
R240009IO4