Lt. JG T’Fearne - The Zushi Apocalypse

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Teayl Thorn

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Apr 21, 2026, 1:55:37 PMApr 21
to USS Ronin – StarBase 118 Star Trek PBEM RPG

((CSO’s Office, Security Complex, Deck 11, USS Ronin))

The de-aged Vulcazoid held out both small palms, part pleading, part exasperated as he studied her.

Kessler: So what do you want to do then?

T'Fearne: ::snapping angrily:: I don’t know! I’m tired, alright! And I want coffee…the replicator won’t give me coffee. The computer is broken and just keeps saying that it was a restricted substance. It's just ridiculous. I’ve been drinking coffee for years!

She eyed Kessler’s mug sitting on his desk but knowing her CO it was likely stone cold and un-drinkable. 

Without much warning, she made a swipe across the desk for the cup anyway, intent on downing the dregs of his unfinished drink. There was a brief scrabble for the cup but he was quick enough to keep it out of her reach. 

He gave her a slightly wide eyed look as she stood, putting the cup out of reach.

Kessler: ::slightly firmer tone and raised:: What are you doing T'Fearne? 

T’Fearne froze, blinking at her boss, shocked at what she had just tried to do. A little pressure had been let off of her bottled frustration and Kessler's refusal to be drawn into a juvenile argument was starting to clear her head. 

Reaching out for the guest chair in Kessler's office, T’Fearne slumped down into it, tucking one leg up while the other dangled. She rested her head in her hands for a solid moment before dragging her face back to meet his gaze. Finally half a handle on her emotions.

T'Fearne: I…I’m sorry. ::sounding slightly strangled:: I am not myself right now, no matter how much I want to be. Ian was right. oO For once Oo He asked me if I was managing ok with the side effects. I was managing fine in the heat of the conflict, but now that things have calmed down, it’s harder to think like…like an adult. ::admitting frankly::  It’s exhausting actually. 

Kessler leaned back, sitting on his desk and T’Fearne slumped a little more in the chair, waiting to be thrown in the brig or relieved of duty. But her CO just sat there, arms crossed over his chest, seemingly taking a moment. 

Kessler: Honestly T'Fearne, I am not sure what to do right now. I certainly don't want you to leave and I do not want to revoke any duties you have unless we have to.

T'Fearne: I’m a starfleet officer, my duty is the most important thing to me, but some other things seem very important right now…like…like ::sighing:: For the last few hours I’ve been getting very hungry, I want sushi… and coffee. I want to hit something on the holodeck with my akai sticks, I want to play my drums at maximum volume and ::honestly:: I think I need a nap. ::the leg dangling off the chair began to swing in a circle as she sighed deeply:: perhaps I do need to be relieved of duty until this…this can be fixed. Do you think it can be reversed or will I have to grow up again?

oO Me, Ian and all the Ross 580 Babies. Oo She winced at the thought.

Jack grinned and stood up, letting his arms drop to his side. 

Kessler: That I can help with. Come with me.

Without waiting for her response, Jack dashed from his office. T’Fearne sat up straighter in response and looked over the back of the chair. Mildly confused.

oO Help with what? Oo

Kessler: Let's go T'Fearne.

T’Fearne got to her feet slowly, wondering for a moment if he was trying to trick her or to take her to the big.

oO Is it even legal to put a twelve-year-old in the brig? Or maybe I don’t count. Oo

T'Fearne: Why? Where are we going?

Kessler: To let off some frustration.

oO What does that even mean? ::frustration increasing:: Uh! Humans! Oo

She scrunched her small nose at him, perplexed and frustrated that his comments explained nothing, but she was still a starfleet officer, even if she was much shorter now. Arms crossed, T’Fearne marched after Jack, trotting to keep up.

They swept out of the Security Complex, down the corridor and into the turbolift. 

Kessler: Deck Four.

She slumped, arms still crossed petulant against the side of the turbolift as Jack stood steady with his hands clasped as they sped through the ship. They rode in silence. T’Fearne, still wrestling with uncertainty. She was fairly certain at this point that he didn’t intend to throw her in the brig. What was of interest on deck four? Her quarters were on deck four, sector oh-two, compartment elven. Perhaps he planned to lock her in her quarters for causing too much trouble?

The lift doors hissed open and Jack headed down the corridor. The recalcitrant Vulcazoid teen peeled herself off the turbolift wall and stomped, slowly following. Armes still crossed, she stared up at the ceiling and counted the lighting panels as she passed them. They took one turn, then another and then finally stopped in front of a holodeck.

T'Fearne: What are we doing here, Kessler?

Kessler: As I said, to let off some frustration.

The doors swooshed open, Kessler stepped in. T'Fearne, her curiosity rising to the forefront, followed him in. 


((Holo-Suite 03, Deck 04, USS Ronin))

T’Fearne stepped through the arch into a desolate, alien wasteland of a city at dusk. Heat rolled over her, blew dry air through her hair and carried the sharp scent of burning refuse. Nearby, a structure collapsed with a groaning crack and a cloud of dust. Blood-red fires glowed in containers and on street corners. Storefronts sported broken glass, boarded windows and broken concrete bulged from the fractured pavement. The holotechnology and integrated matter replicators must have been working overtime.

She halted her movement and looked around. There was something eerily familiar about the simulation. T’Fearne was sure she had never been here, wherever here was, but something about the scene brushed against her memory of Bajor, the ancient holy city of B’Hala, circa 20,000 years ago, on the night of the city’s fiery armageddon. But a lot less screaming.

Her dark eyes flashed with curiosity, her interest engaged, as a long, narrow street stretched before them. The cavities of shattered shop windows and dark alleys, interspersed with trash fires promised ambush at any point. 

At the end of the alley, a flickering neon sign bloomed in the gloom above a dimly lit building. "Zushi Barangaroo".

T'Fearne: ::tilting her head to look up at Kessler:: Chief. What is this? 

Kessler: You want sushi. You'll have to get there to have it. This is a level 6 Security training program I designed. Any hostile you encounter can be any species from the Starfleet database. The computer chooses randomly and it keeps changing who and what you encounter so that you have to adapt on the spot to different tactics. Akai sticks can be added if you want them.

oO Advanced tactical training? I can hit something?Oo

The dark eyes widened, but her face remained blank, looking around at the environment, the challenge being offered and the reward at the end. Still evaluating. It was clear that Jack was trying to help and the fight he offered was possibly what she needed to get something out of her system. 

T'Fearne: ::nodding:: I see what you are doing…This is an acceptable challenge. But let’s go to the Musashi Lounge on level B, in the Mission Pod after this. ::small nose wrinkling:: Holodeck sushi is disgusting. Where is this simulation anyway? What planet?

T’Fearne’s brow arched.

Kessler: Response

T'Fearne: ::eyes narrowing:: Did you choose this chaotic, degraded environment because you sense it reflects my current internal conflict?

Kessler: Response

Her mind made up, she spun back around to face Kessler. A mischievous grin spread on her face as she pulled twin akai sticks out of the hidden pockets that ensign Wren seemed to modify all her uniforms with. She snapped both batons outward with a flick of her wrists.

T'Fearne: It’s perfect! Try to keep up, sir.

Kessler: Response

She started forward, light footfalls kicking up a trail of dust, but turned back to look at his stance. 

T'Fearne: ::hesitantly:: I thought we…would handle this together?

The question, on the surface, was about the training program, but there was an echo of an underlying struggle. One that T’Fearne wasn’t even conscious of needing reassurance of.

Kessler: Response

[Tags / TBC]

===============================

Lt. JG T'Fearne  

Security Officer   

USS Ronin - NCC-34523

R240107T14


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