Lt. JG T’Fearne - Spectres of the Compass Rose
Teayl Thorn
((Bio-Decontamination Chamber, Deck 08, USS Compass Rose))
The hiss of her helmet seal releasing seemed louder than it should have been on one side and dissorientingly quiet on the other.zrhn A shocking mixture of tainted shipboard air hit her senses. Burned electronics, acrid, organic and decomposing scents assaulted her nose. She had smelled this before, on DS33 and maybe once, faintly, in her childhood, the scent of a dying ship.
T’Fearne took shallow, measured breaths, imagining the pathogen dancing invisibly in the air around them. It didn’t matter. There was no time for fear. She was counting on Ślimak to do it quickly before they had a chance to become infected.
A beat of silence hung in the air, and then violet light speared the room like bleach. The hum of barely functioning circuitry filled the space like static.
T’Fearne: ::eyelashes crashing tightly shut :: Watch out for those controls! That seems too bright!
She threw her gloved hands up to shield her face, but the heat licked at the edges of her eartips, stinging sharply.
Roop: Adjusting.
Ślimak: ::alarm sharp in her voice:: 1Fuj! The system tripped the sterilisation protocol! Cover your eyes!
After a stinging moment, the UV light dimmed to a normal, bearable level for the decon compartment. An aerosolised agent began misting from the dispenser, pale and ghostly, swirling in lazy spirals through the chamber. It smelled faintly herbal, sharp and clean.
T’Fearne inhaled deeply, letting the cooling mist rush down her throat, land on her face and sink into her skin. She unsealed the rest of her EV suit, pulling it half off, leaving the boots and pants on and the top folded around the waist of her under uniform shirt. Gloves clipped to her belt and helmet resting on the bench beside her as she stood poised in the centre of the room. The air against her skin, so long enclosed in the suit, was cold. Each breath felt icy, and she shivered as the mist rushed down her throat and into her lungs, chilling her from the inside.
T’Fearne: :: Coughing slightly:: It’s cold and unpleasant, but otherwise tolerable. No immediate effects. ::beat:: How long until we’ll know it’s working?
She turned to check on Roop as he continued scanning with his device.
Roop: We’re beginning to match their levels of the Commander’s readings. ::utilizing his third lung made his voice deepen:: We’ll need blood samples verified to make certain, though. Sharing human DNA with Dom as a comparison, let me go first.
Ślimak: Aerosol dispersal is steady. The system shows full room saturation. It didn’t take long for me and Corzy either, just try to breathe deep.
Trying to suppress another cold shiver and looking curiously at Roop's change in vocal timbre.
T’Fearne: Very well, ensign.
Roop retrieved a hypo and cartridges, handing one to her. She checked the seal as though it were a phaser charge, then steadied him with a firm hand on his shoulder before drawing the sample with precision.
On the interior display, a ghostly mirror image of himself flickered to life, splitting into multiple overlays of data and readings.
Roop: ::softly:: Winner, winner, shrimp dinner. ::nodding head at the absurdity of the day:: Pathogen and antidote readings show I’m now just like you, Dom. Goodness, this pathogen is fast. ::looking to T’Fearne in her arm-belted half-suit:: Next.
Ślimak: ::muttering:: I’ll never eat shrimp again.
T’Fearne: ::with a shiver:: More like “winter, winter.”
Lifting her chin, T’Fearne pressed the hypo to her own neck, placing her sample in Roop’s expectant hand to join his, Ślimak and Corzy’s samples, slotting it into the scanner.
As her readings built across the holographic display, he offered her a sanitary cloth. She took it and began gently whipping at the trace of half-dried green icor along her temple and jawline.
Roop: ::noticing the readings while offering T'Fearne gauze sani-wipes for her now obvious blood-stained temple, ear, and neck:: Humm. You're more than Vulcan. ::concentrating on more important matters:: Blue heavens, this pathogen has saturated this ship.
Ślimak: ::glancing up curiously:: You're not just a straight Vulcan? What is your species, ma’am? :: Looking harder at Roop too:: And you, are you actually Human, sir?
T’Fearne inclined her head, carefully scraping caked green blood out of her ear as she talked with the crewman over the chambers comm.
T’Fearne: Betazoid and Vulcan heritage, crewman. And I believe Mr Roop is primarily Human with Pacifican heritage, though he may correct me. ::looking at the distracted officer:: I thought we already knew the plague was loose throughout all areas of the ship.
Roop: No, I mean airborne levels this high are unnaturally high. ::rummaging in the medical cabinet:: The pathogen is almost a humidity. No wonder it's so fast. ::fishing a dermal regenerator out of the cabinet::
Ślimak: ::quietly, anxious:: I’m not sure this was a good idea. The treatment worked on full Humans and full Trill… we should’ve waited for your CMO to verify it was safe for you both.
T’Fearne: Crewman, ::catching Ślimak’s eyes through the view strip:: A short time ago, there was an incident of some kind aboard the Ronin, we had some of your crew in isolation, trying to treat them, and there was some sort of containment breach. I don’t have details, but the pathogen has spread. The Compass Rose and now the Ronin are both Plague Ships. We need to test this inoculation, verify its viability as soon as possible and begin innoculating anyone not yet infected while our scientists search for a way to help those already infected. Do you understand our task, Crewman Ślimak?
Ślimak nodded stonily.
T’Fearne wasn’t sure she understood the full implications of what was going on, but she drew a long breath, suppressing another shudder.
Roop: Lieutenant? ::pointing at some of her rising scan readings compared to his side-by-side:: Are you feeling alright? ::switching the half display of him to the Trill’s previous scan:: You’re reaction is somewhat different from ours. ::looking concerned::
T’Fearne: It’s merely an uncomfortable sensation and temperature for me, Ensign. I’m not concerned about it.
She had been through much worse and brushed aside his concerns.
The ultraviolet hum faded to a low thrum. The vapour hung hazy with blue residual mist.
Ślimak: The levels are steady now. Treatment Seventeen has completed its full cycle. No new issues with the systems… yet. I’ll let you both out now, Sirs.
The crewman keyed the release. The decon doors hissed open, mist curling outward into the lab.
((Science Lab 3, Deck 08, USS Compass Rose))
T’Fearne strode quickly out of the chamber, the vapour clinging to her tall form like tendrils, reluctant to let her go. The change in pressure and air quality made her slightly lightheaded. She leaned a hip against the console, steadying herself.
T’Fearne: Good work, Crewman. Prepare several canisters of Treatment Seventeen for transport.
Roop: Response
Ślimak’s console flickered as she worked.
Ślimak: And… authorising the release of inoculant canisters for transport to the Ronin.
The engineering tech fetched them, sleek cylinders glowing with pale blue luminescence and placed them carefully in a case for easy transport.
Roop: Response
T’Fearne: ::Coughing slightly:: Excellent work, both of you. Let’s forward the data to Science and Medical, and get these canisters to the Ronin. There’s a transporter on this deck we can use.
Ślimak: ::tentatively:: Lieutenant? Are you…?
Roop: Response
She waved the concern away.
T’Fearne: I understand that different species can react differently to medicines and compounds. I am a blend of two species. Side effects are to be expected. I will be fine in a moment. Let's proceed.
Making meaningful eye contact with Roop, she flicked her eyes sideways at crewman Ślimak.
T’Fearne: Ensign, there is a difficult task I would like you to take charge of. We are going to the transporter room that we passed on our way here. We will do what we can to quickly, but respectfully beam the deceased crew out of there and to cargobay-three, where we have been gathering deceased crew for later identification and last rites…Crewman Ślimak and I will bring the canisters shortly.
She wanted to spare the woman from seeing the full extent of what had become of many of her crew, but they had to move quickly.
Roop: Response
Ślimak: Response
((A few moments later - Transporter Room, Deck 08, USS Compass Rose))
The transporter room was a vision of horror, piles of half-decomposed crew members lay on top of one another in a gruesome soup, uniforms stained and fused together in the humid air.
T’Fearne’s senses numbed as her training closed around her like armour. She had glimpsed the scene before, but to be standing in the room was a painful reminder of the loss of life on the Rose and the waiting fate of the Ronin should they fail.
She placed a steadying hand on Ślimak’s back, uncertain who was holding up whom.
T’Fearne: ::Clearing throat:: Dominika…Dom, I know this is difficult. You can wait in the corridor if you need to. There will be time later to mourn their passing and celebrate their bravery in the face of this disaster later, ::she hoped:: but for now we must be respectful and swift.
Ślimak: Response
Roop: Response
T’Fearne: Then let’s proceed.
She drew her tricorder, documenting the scene before disturbing a single body.
Ślimak: Response
Roop: Response
As the transporter shimmered to life, blue motes surrounded the bodies, whisking their particles away until the transporter pad cleared of all trace. The room filled with the low hum of fading energy, and suddenly, she felt it.
A strange awareness pressed against her mind, stronger than anything she had ever sensed before. The shadows of an additional presence she sensed in sickbay before were thin in comparison to this. The tricorder slipped from her fingers and clattered to the floor. An overwhelming presence, and not just someone, but many unseen beings regarding her.
T’Fearne blinked, staring at the now-empty chamber, ignoring her companions. She passed a pale, trembling hand over her eyes, her balance wavering. And then, they were there.
Crew of the Compass Rose filled the transporter room before her, indistinct, luminous forms. Not visible to her eyes, but alive in the storm of her paracortex, empathic auras burning bright as they brushed against her consciousness. Dozens of mind-echoes, each flaring for a heartbeat and then fading as they slipped somewhere beyond.
She stared, wide-eyed and breathless, as her other senses “saw” what her eyes could not.
Lt. T’Fearne collapsed to her knees, then tumbled sideways, her body boneless against the deck. Her dark lashes fanned her cheeks, a thin trickle of green ran from her nose and dripped against the transporter floor as the hum of the beam faded into silence.
[Tags / TBC]
OOC: T’Fearne is having an allergic reaction to treatment seventeen and passed out for a moment; it remains to be seen whether it’s a Bolian plant or if that was a hallucination or something else to do with Betazoid senses.
1Fuj - Polish: Interjection used to express disgust, similar to "yuck," "eww," or "phew" in English.
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Security Officer
USS Ronin - NCC-34523
R240107T14