Ensign T’Fearne: Personal Log - Slightly AWOL [Part 2]
Teayl Thorn
((The Precarious Side of a Cliff, Somewhere in the Skelter Mountain Range, Proxima Sigma IV))
A fierce headache began to throb in her temple as she closed her eyes and rested her forehead just for a moment against the rust coloured rock of the cliff. A slight tremor ran through her limbs to toes and fingertips, clinging to the rockface. One hand twined in a death grip around a tiny weed sprouting from rock, its roots tangled deeply into the formation to be able to survive on the inhospitable surface. T’Fearne took a moment to breathe.
In.
Out.
Repeat.
Around her, warm air currents gently ruffled her hair as the warming rays of Proxima Sigma beat down on the mountain above, the valley and the green and purple forest floor below and the out-of-her-depth starfleet security officer, clinging to a cliff-face in between.
The little tuft of flora began to tear from its home, she instinctively let go and sought a more secure hold, jamming her fingers in a thin faultline of the rock.
Eyes as sharp and dark as obsidian blades under slanted brows glanced up the cliff face, evaluating her options in as clinical and detached a manner as she could manage. Panic was not an option and would likely be fatal. Too far to climb back down to the forest and still an impossibly long way to the top, she contemplated how she managed to get into this situation. oO An ensign’s inexperience and poor impulse control. Oo The self-chide rang demoralising in her head, and she felt her energy level diminish and her fingers start to lose their grip.
A memory bubbled up unbidden, sitting in Carpenter's office.
((Flashback))
((Chief of SecTac's Office, Security Complex, Deck 11, U.S.S. Ronin))
Carpenter: It's unprecedented the things we do. The choices we are sometimes forced to make. But like The Captain said to me once, we have a secret weapon against all that.
T'Fearne: :: Dry tone:: It’s Cheesecake, isn’t it?
Kirsty gave a hoot of laughter.
Carpenter: Each other, Ensign. Each other. And that counts double for your Chief, here, ya see? ::hooking a thumb at herself::
T'Fearne: :: beep breath:: Understood, Sir!
((End of Flashback))
T’Fearne: :: Softly to herself :: Understood, Sir!
Her CO was not around to help her out this time, but her words carried weight, and T’Fearne felt her resolve strengthen; the tremors in her limbs subsided. Kirsty’s departure, explained as a leave of absence, didn't sit right with the security ensign. She felt concern for her friend and mentor, hoping she was okay, but mentally refocused on her current situation.
She had realised after too long that the climb was much more advanced than she had attempted before and she had managed to roll up her trouser legs to above the shin and take her shoes off, stowing them in her pack, affording her bare fingers and toes maximum grip and purchase on the rough red surface of the rock. Now her fingertips and several toes were worn and tinged green, several fingernails were torn, elbows and shins green and black with fresh and scabbing grazes.
Her destination was so close and yet so impossibly far away.
Something loud and moving very fast shot through the canyon behind her, displacing the air as it moved above the canopy, whipping foliage and the few contrary plants growing horizontally into a frenzy and almost ripping her from the rock. She couldn’t look, focusing all her attention on not falling.
oO Was that the terrorist collaborators? Escaping in a shuttle? Oo
Were they leaving whatever hideout they had holed up in to wait out the aftermath of their failed plans? Or was that giving Emzai’s puppets too much credit?
Her comm gave a distorted chirp, she froze, clinging to the cliff face, a little spark of hope singing through her. Was that someone trying to hail her through the interference caused by the magnetic ore of the mountain range?
The sound of a shuttle engine returned, moving much slower and echoing off the stone. It paused, hovering behind her, and she cautiously turned her head to look over her shoulder at the reassuring sight of one of Ronin's shuttles. She blew out a breath and the hair that had blown into her mouth.
T’Fearne: Oh, thank the four deities!
Kirsty had been right; the crew of the Ronin had her back. The shuttle seemed to be using its anti-gravity field and maneuvering jets to spin around. She caught a fleeting glimpse of someone at the helm, and then the shuttle's cargo hatch faced her. She heard the mechanical whirring of the hatch retracting open slowly, and then a voice called out, barely audible over the sound of the engine.
Kessler: Response
T’Fearne: :: yelling over her shoulder :: What?
She didn’t recognise the voice, still clinging to the cliff face, she risked another look over her shoulder, meeting the eyes of a strange officer in the gold of the Engineering or Security department. No one she recognised from the Ronin’s crew, but a Starfleet Lieutenant nonetheless. She strained her pointed ears to hear what he was saying over the thrum of the engines.
Kessler: Response
T’Fearne: :: Yelling over her shoulder:: Jump? Why? Can’t you use the transporter?
Kessler: Response
She felt a spike of fear rush through her as her heart rate sped up.
T’Fearne: :: shaking her head:: I—I can’t! It’s too far! oO I’m too tired Oo
Kessler: Response
[Tag, You’re It! / TBC]
((OOC: Flashback excerpt from Ensign T’Fearne - Pact of Trust))
===============================
Security Officer
USS Ronin - NCC-34523
R240107T14