Lt. JG T’Fearne - Today’s Teenaged Mutant Ninja Vulcazoid (Part 2)
Teayl Thorn
((“The Crèche” - Inside The Lid, Moon Sigma in orbit of Gas Giant A, Ross 580 System))
O’Connor: Lt. T’Fearne and I will check out the rest of the rooms along this corridor and hopefully be right back.
She gave a brusque nod and started to follow Ian out when Wren called out.
Wren: Oh, take this with you! ::passing them her tricorder:: It’ll beep if there’s a time-space ripple.
T’Fearne: Thank you Ensign. Stay alert Doctor. Comm if you need us.
She accepted the tricorder and clipped it into her suit. Her type-three phaser rifle swung neatly over her shoulder as she drew a type-two pistol instead, better for the tight quarters of the base, held low but ready. She fell into step beside Ian, matching his careful, limping pace down the corridor, leaving Renaie and Wren behind with their unexpected nursery.
Shortrith: Go well- owww don't bite me you little-
Renaie’s parting comment cut off as they headed further down the corridor. T’Fearne allowed herself a brief, sardonic smirk. She would take unknown dangers over babysitting any day.
((OOC: leaving Renaie and Delphina’s conversion out unless they yell or comm T’Featne and Ian. ))
((Corridor inside The Lid, Moon Sigma in orbit of Gas Giant A, Ross 580 System))
The corridor ahead was eerily pristine, far newer than the exterior damage suggested. Light panels glowed steadily, walls unmarred, the air still. They moved through a sequence of rooms like this, untouched.
Then the corridor abruptly changed. Lights flickered. Grime smeared the walls in uneven stains. Dust lay thick along the base of the walls, gathered in drifts as though no one had walked here in decades.
T’Fearne slowed. Her gaze fixed on the shapes half-buried in the dust.
Bones. Humanoid. Ancient enough that only the largest had retained their shape, the rest reduced to pale fragments. She tapped O'Connor's shoulder and gestured to the remains.
O'Connor: Response
T’Fearne: That is an entirely rational response.
O'Connor: Response
Her borrowed tricorder chirped once—then erupted into a shrill, continuous alarm.
T’Fearne froze, eyes darting, trying to triangulate the threat.
T’Fearne: Ian… hold—
The wall to her right rippled. It moved like fabric snapped in a violent wind. Dust lifted, then vanished entirely. Stains raced backward along the wall, undoing themselves in real time.
T’Fearne lunged sideways, shoving Ian hard as some giant uncaring force tore through reality. The force slammed her back, pinning her to the wall as reality peeled. For several heartbeats, her vision fractured—layers of the corridor overlapping, ruined warping to pristine. Pain detonated behind her eyes, like a photon torpedo exploding. Every cell screamed as if being pulled apart and reassembled incorrectly.
Her EV suit shrieked warnings she couldn’t voice.
She staggered, dropped to one knee, phaser still clenched in one hand, the other pressed to the ground. Her suit suddenly felt wrong—too loose, pooling around her limbs. Her helmet view plate swam before her eyes.
She gasped, the sound light, thin and barely familiar.
She could hear Ian faintly as though they were under water.
O'Connor: Response
T’Fearne: ::high pitched, through clenched teeth, forcing control:: Ian…I’m—here. But something’s wrong.
She looked down. Small gloved hands. Too small. Her fingers barely wrapped around the phaser. The sleeves of her suit bunched awkwardly at her wrists.
Realisation hit harder than the pain.
She’d de-aged.
Twelve years old—give or take.
oO This is problematic! Oo
Drawing a careful breath, she lifted her gaze, wide dark eyes seeking out Ian to make sure he was unharmed.
O'Connor: Response
T’Fearne: Yes, unfortunately, I think I just de-aged about 17 years—give or take. Are you alright?
O'Connor: Response
((OOC: Leaving it up to Rob if Ian was caught in that too or if it just clipped T’Fearne. ))
[Tags / TBC]
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Security Officer
USS Ronin - NCC-34523
R240107T14