Lt. JG T’Fearne - Age Before Beauty (Part 2)
Teayl Thorn
((“The Crèche” - Inside The Lid, Moon Sigma in orbit of Gas Giant A, Ross 580 System))
T’Fearne crossed her arms grumpily, stomped over to a corner of the room and began adjusting her hazard suit so her gusset wasn't in danger of tripping her up. She was now the same height or slightly shorter than the diminutive Ensign Wren and the suits where one size fits all with the function to adjust width and limb length. At least her suit boots still fit well enough and she could fire her rifle if she held it carefully with both hands.
Shortrith: Response
T'Fearne: I’m fine! ::deep breath through small flaring nostrils:: I’m well, Doctor, merely adjusting to this change in circumstances and how it may affect the mission.
She let the Klingon scan to their hearts content.
Wren: ::nodding:: I think it might be a good idea to update the commander about this. If there are Tholians here, they might be elsewhere too ::tapping comm badge::...... ::taps it again, as it didn’t work the first time::..... Are any of you getting a signal?
Ian tried his. T’Fearne just gestured at the empty patch on her suit where the comm had disintegrated into its earlier components.
O’Connor: No nothing. Not surprising with the radiation surges I guess.
T'Fearne: Or temporal phase distortion. Either way, I fear we are temporarily isolated unless someone takes a walk out to the land rover.
Shortrith: Response
Wren: We heard footsteps a second ago, too large to just be the baby. I think it might be a good idea to shut down this room, I can use the available power to seal the door with a forcefield, that seems to be the only entrance. I don’t know if I can cover the ventilation system, though, and I don’t know how long I can keep it going ::going back to the computer system:: This thing still doesn’t want to cooperate with me.
O’Connor: Do your best. We should probably put the little bowling ball here in its own little containment area as well.
Shortrith: Response
Wren: That’s probably a good idea. I can-
A loud bang echoed from the corridor.
Everyone froze for a second.
Then T’Fearne had her phaser out before conscious thought caught up. The weapon felt heavier in her smaller hand, but her stance came automatically—knees flexed, shoulders angled, breath controlled. The hazard suit fit better after her adjustments, easier to move in.
She edged up beside the door, listening.
Wren: I’m gonna go ahead and seal the door now.
T’Fearne tilted her head, straining her hearing. A few light scuffs.
T'Fearne: ::quiet, pressed to the wall:: Can anyone get a tricorder reading? Mine appears to have… deconstructed. oO Along with my dignity. Oo
The door closed and locked temporarily to keep them all safe from whatever was out there.
Shortrith: Response
O’Connor: Hold up, cause you’re going to seal it with us on the outside.. There are still additional lifesigns farther into the structure. ::pulls out a mini holographic projector and activates blueprint hologram:: Many sections are collapsed and I think this ::points:: is now some sort of chasm. Getting a few readings from near there. At least one reptilian and one Bajoran…maybe. Also, there are also some even crazier temporal fluctuations. We should probably go check it out. This place will be our fallback point.
He projected the hologram of the facility into the room and T’Fearne studied it critically, stepping closer.
T’Fearne: Agreed, we should keep on mission pulling as many people out as we can. ::stretching her neck up and going on tiptoe to appear taller:: I—remain capable of providing security for this team.
She concurred with Ian, even if he currently looked like he should be attending a junior academy mixer.
Shortrith/Wren: Response
O’Connor: Actually, I’ve been working on a temporary idea about that.
Ian grinned suddenly, placing a small emitter near the playpen.
O’Connor: Activate Emergency Holographic Beck-o-Nanny
A holographic figure flickered into existence.
T’Fearne blinked.
It almost looked like Beck, if Beck were an exhausted babysitter with a vacantly pleasant expression and a bright primary coloured shirt.
EBN: Response (Optional)
It stated it’s formulaic greeting response with a twist.
T’Fearne: ::wincing:: I’m not sure of the quality of those programs—and they are disturbing! We should get the transport enhancers out and see if we can get these babies—-base personnel to the Ronin sickbay, out of harm's way.
Shortrith/Wren/O’Connor/EBN(Optional): Response
They set the transport enhancers up and begin transporting the babies to the Ronin’s sickbay.
As the transport cycle began, T’Fearne watched the infants—former scientists, engineers, base personnel—the children of Ross 580 vanish in blue shimmer.
She wondered somewhat bitterly if this was for them a second chance at life. If whatever they had done good or bad was, in a way, wiped clean and they had a chance to do things over again? If they were conscious as she and Ian seemed to retain knowledge of what had happened to them?
She suddenly had a panicked thought that if this was permanent, how on Betazed was she going to deal with...this? Her commission! Her career would be suspended. Would she’d have to do the Academy again when she was old enough? Her parents would have to look after her again for six more years! oO Not the homework! And Tess—TESS! Would he wait for me? Oo
She had just got a boyfriend she really liked and this happened! The thoughts bubbled up, devastating and overwhelming. She put them away as best she could but her discipline seemed slippery, particularly unstable.
She groaned quietly, hands over her suit's faceplate. Being a hormonal teenager had been the most difficult time to control her emotions.
Soon only the Emergency Beck-o-Nanny remained to supervise strict instructions to keep an eye on the baby Tholian. They would need to transport it to the brig, not sickbay.
T’Fearne pulled herself together, checked her phaser, squared her slim shoulders, and looked at Ian.
T’Fearne: Shall we go find the rest before they or we turn into babies?
Shortrith/Wren/O’Connor/EBN(Optional): Response
((Back in Corridor inside The Lid, Moon Sigma in orbit of Gas Giant A, Ross 580 System))
They stepped back toward the corridor, T’Fearne gave Ian a nod that she was ready.
The Romulan architecture of the door hissed open as Wren triggered it.
The smaller Vulcazoid moved first, slipped low through the threshold, phaser angled down but ready, beam light sweeping the corridor in a controlled arc while one of her teammates covered the opposite direction.
T’Fearne: Clear… carefully. :: gesturing for Ian to go first::
She took up the rear defensive position, boots quiet on the flooring, senses sharp. It took conscious effort not to bounce slightly on her toes---this youthful body wanted to move faster than discipline and training dictated.
Further down the corridor and rooms of the dome an emotional reaction flared ahead of them, orange consentration, and violet distrust.
T’Fearne: Hold on there is someone ahead. ::glancing toward Wren:: Ensign, are you sensing them too?
Shortrith/Wren/O’Connor: Response
((Reactor Room, The Lid, Moon Sigma in orbit of Gas Giant A, Ross 580 System))
They reached an open chamber near what must once have been the dome’s heart.
The room rose several decks high, the curved interior of the dome arching overhead like the inside of a cracked shell. Emergency lighting painted everything in harsh red light, with occasional harsh white flashes.
From her vantage point T’Fearne could see at the centre of the room yawned a vast circular pit. Bundles of large twisted cables sprawled over the floor and dangled into the void of the pit, some sparking intermittently.
From the depths came a sickly green glow. A cylindrical containment field surrounded the pit, reaching to the tear in the ceiling, its surface shimmering irregularly as is chanelled the green glowing radiation and particulates out of the dome and into the moon's atmosphere. It was not a standard Starfleet containment that she recognised. Either Romulan design or something improvised.
Every few seconds a deep subsonic vibration rolled through the deck plates, felt more in the bones of their feet and legs than heard. Dust, sand, particulates drifted downward in lazy spirals.
Abandoned equipment littered the perimeter—sensor pallets, portable shielding generators, half-assembled consoles. Evidence of a desperate attempt to stabilise whatever catastrophe had occurred here.
Above it all, on a raised control gantry overlooking the rupture—an unusual Jem’Hadar stood glaring at them as they approached cautiously.
oO A Jem’Hadar woman? That is unusual. Oo
Rurat'dari: Who are you?
Her voice echoed across the room to them laced with venom.
T’Fearne: Starfleet, Search and Rescue from the USS Ronin.
Wren/Shortrith/O’Connor: Response
A flicker of something crossed the Jem’Hadar’s face and T’Fearne felt the hostility.
Rurat'dari: What are you doing here?
She tilted her head slightly. T’Fearne stepped forward, keeping her posture open and non confrontational, phaser gripped securely, but pointed down and away from the Jem’Hadar.
T’Fearne: ::simply:: People are still alive here.
Wren/Shortrith/O’Connor: Response
The tremor this time was stronger. More audible.
The woman seemed to be angry, not relieved at their attempt to rescue her.
Rurat'dari: Why? What's the point?
T’Fearne: ::gently:: You don’t have to handle this alone.
Wren/Shortrith/O’Connor: Response
[Tags / TBC]
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Security Officer
USS Ronin - NCC-34523
R240107T14