Lt. JG T’Fearne - Tactical Child's Play (Part 2)
Teayl Thorn
((Bridge, Deck 3, USS Ronin))
((OOC: Putting the conversation between Ian and T’Fearne quietly to the side here, then continuing main dialog.))
As the hostile negotiations had dragged on, the bridge operations held a tense rhythm of sensor updates and legal maneuvering. T’Fearne was so focused on the hostile vessel’s power fluctuations that she almost missed the soft hiss of the turbolift doors.
Her eyes flicked up just long enough to see a familiar, slightly awkward figure slip onto the bridge and creep toward her tactical station. A teenaged mutant Lieutenant Commander.
She focused on her work until he crouched next to her console and poked at her elbow.
oO What does he want? Shouldn't he be in Sickbay? Oo
O’Connor:It looks like you're a little busy but…are you okay?
She gave him a distracted squint without taking her hands off the tactical controls.
T’Fearne: Yes, I’m fine. ::a crease forming between her brows:: Why?
O’Connor: Like do you feel like normal you? Not different like 12-year old you? Like in your head.
Slightly unsure what he was trying to ask her, T’Fearne looked O’Connor up and down to make sure he wasn’t leaking a trail of blood on the deck. He looked fine apart from the de-aging, so she assumed he had been repaired enough to be released from Sickbay.
She glanced down at herself for a moment—the rolled sleeves of her uniform pushed up past wrists that were too small, the trousers cuffed to keep them from dragging underfoot. She held her palms up briefly over the glow of the console lights, studying how small they looked.
T’Fearne: ::Glancing at Ian over small raised hands:: I feel… younger. But that seems to be normal for the situation… for what happened to us. Ian, are you certain you are well enough to be here? Perhaps you should return to Sickbay?
O’Connor: No, just a recent realization. For me this change has become a little more than just physical. I just wanted to make sure you're good.
She glanced at him briefly and then back to her work. Personally she suspected females of many species developed cognitive maturity earlier than males, but it did not seem like a helpful observation in the moment.
T’Fearne: ::quietly:: Yes, I’ve noticed some obvious physical, mental and emotional differences. I am adapting…::Glancing at him:: We have both been through this once before, adolescence is uncomfortable and embarrassing, but not impossible. You have the training and experience to help the Ronin, no matter how old you appear. Also there is historical precedent for teenagers to operate starships, I believe.
The memories were still there. Starfleet training. The instincts drilled into her through years at the Academy and aboard the Ronin. But he was right, using them now was different. Harder. The discipline was still intact, yet the emotions underneath it had crept dangerously closer to the surface—fear, pain, sadness, flashes of anger—surging up faster than she was used to, harder to contain inside a body that had not yet learned the same control.
She wished she had the time to show Ian a simple technique she was using to ground herself and keep her emotions in check. It wasn’t easy, but she had managed it before and with so many lives, those of her friends, colleagues and Tess on the line. She would put up with it all again…and she had trust in Ian that he would rise to the occasion like he always had before.
oO Maybe he just needs to be given familiar work? Oo
Just then Commander Kel seemed to press the advantage too far in the negotiations and the cloaked creature on the screen froze and finally its composure fractured.
B’hab: =/= I’ve had enough of your stalling..=/=
Nicolau: Response
The view screen went back to a starfield, and the Lattice vessel just sat there, daring the Ronin to do anything. With that, Morrow whipped around the corner and hopped in a turbolift headed back to the security complex.
Kel slammed his hand down on the side of the console bringing her attention firmly back to the bridge and her duties.
Kel: ::mumbling:: Boring conversation anyway. ::normal voice:: T'Fearne bring weapons online, full shields. Ensign Wren do we have the plan in place to go to warp?
Nicolau: Response
T’Fearne: Yes Sir! ::straining slightly to reach the shields:: Adjusting shields to full. Phaser banks are fully powered, all torpedo launchers are loaded. We are weapons ready. ::quietly:: Waiting on your order to target them, Captain.
Wren: ::frowning at the report:: Engineering is standing by, but we need to be well outside the radiation before we attempt warp. The level of radiation in the atmosphere would risk ignition.
Kel: ok. Bring us about Lt. Nicolau. If they want a scrape, we'll give them one.
The Ronin began to pivot, thrusters firing in short bursts as the helms officer wrestled the ship through the increasingly unstable space around the moon.
Nicolau/Kel: Response
T’Fearne peered over the tactical console as the Alliance's battleship’s immense shape loomed on the main display and then at an incoming message to her station.
T’Fearne: ::slightly relieved:: Security is reporting the intruder situation at the transporter room contained. Two in custody, a Romulan and a Tholian Warrior. That transporter room is down for repairs.
Wren: I’m sending an order to Engineering to stand by and be ready. Looking for an alternative to initiating warp
With combat ensuing, Ian stepped over toward Kel and offered a slightly awkward salute.
O’Connor: Sorry I’m late to the party, boss… but you know how us teenagers like to sleep in late. How can I help?
T’Fearne made room for Ian beside the tactical console in case Kel assigned him to assist.
Kel: Response
O’Connor: Absolutely.Captain.
Wren: If a firefight breaks out, it might be possible to get high enough to utilize a gravity assist in order to break away from the planet and radiation as quickly as possible in order to get to a safe distance to engage warp.
Nicolau/Kel/O’Connor: Response
Wren: Based on what I understand, Sheliak ships are built more for durability than maneuverability. They’re large and dense, which wouldn’t serve them well in close quarters. We could easily outpace them if we need to make a break for it.
T’Fearne’s lips twitched slightly at that.
T’Fearne: The hostile vessel is heavier and less maneuverable than we are. If they attempt to pursue us through the gravity well their targeting solutions will lag behind ours, but that could bring them between us and the moon. If I miss, my targeting solutions would be dangerous to any personnel left on the surface.
Nicolau/Wren/Kel/O’Connor: Response
Steadying her breathing again. The security officer peered over the tactical console, dark eyes locked on the immense Leviathan stalking them. She spoke before doubt could creep in.
T’Fearne: Who else is left on the surface?
Nicolau/Wren/Kel/O’Connor: Response
She dented the edge of the consol under her hands tight grip.
That was not the answer she wanted to hear. The last few members of the landfall teams had yet to make it back from the moon—her colleagues and friends, including Tess among them. And here she was with her finger on the trigger.
T’Fearne: ::worried:: We need to get them back aboard. I can’t risk firing at Hostile One if it’s got our teams on the moon behind it.
Nicolau/Wren/Kel/O’Connor: Response
[Tags / TBC]
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Security Officer
USS Ronin - NCC-34523
R240107T14