Lt. JG T’Fearne - Borrowed Uniform (Part 1)
Teayl Thorn
((OOC: Adjusting this scene a little, delaying the call to the Bridge and smoothing out the narrative.))
((Transporter Room, Deck 06, USS Ronin))
The subsurface chamber vanished, replaced by the sterile brightness as one of USS Ronin's transporter rooms resolved around them.
The security officer's head snapped around instantly.
T’Fearne: Did we… did we get everyone?
Her voice was steadier than she felt, though higher than usual. Dark eyes flicked from face to face. Wren. Shortrith. The Jem’Hadar female. O’Connor, smaller and injured but present.
And...another figure.
The minimized security officer watched as Wren intercepted a young Bajoran boy that had pushed into the transport beam with them. Luckily it seemed the system had functioned well, stripping any unregistered weapon the child had out of the materialisation stream. She would still have to search him for other more simplistic weapons that the computer might not register, The Jem’Hadar Scientist also.
Shortrith: Yeah, I've got O'Connor. ::conducting a quick headcount:: Yeah, that's everyone.
oO Plus one. Oo
Shortrith tapped their combadge.
Shortrith: =/\= Shortrith to Sickbay, I'm on my way with injured crew. =/\= ::To the others:: Come on, let's get you patched up.
T’Fearne nodded, shifting carefully, ribs protesting the movement.
T’Fearne: ::to the crewman operating the transporter:: Please transport Lieutenant Commander O’Connor and Doctor Shortrith directly to Sickbay.
She waited until the transporter shimmered again and cleared them from the pad before continuing.
T’Fearne: Next scan these coordinates for two energy signatures. There should be a Tholian infant and a holographic emitter. Transport both to the brig. Separate containment from the adult Tholian already in custody.
She didn’t really think about the hologram, or EBN as Ian had called it, it had no discernible emotions and barely registered on her senses as an entity, just a program or a tool. Still Ian seemed excited about it. She did hope that one of the teams on the surface would retrieve the shuttles and the land rover.
Wren, meanwhile, had launched into diplomacy mode.
Wren: Well… I guess welcome aboard the Ronin. Sorry about all thi-
Rurat'dari/Kangar: Response
T’Fearne walked toward the transporter console, one arm braced across her ribs. She took advantage of the ensign's natural friendliness, distracting the two moon base evacuees as she quickly skimmed transporter logs for anomalies. Nothing obvious.
Wren: Well, we have to go ::to the officer at the transporter:: Can you escort him to sickbay, please? Thanks!
T’Fearne: One moment, Ensign. This crewman is needed here at their station. We will escort our guests ourselves. ::putting a light emphasis on the word “guest” to signal caution:: to the Sickbay Complex and make sure they are protected. We also need to be checked over for injuries and radiation damage as ordered by the ships ACMO.
She added a quiet telepathic thought directed to Delphina. Hoping the woman would pick up on it.
~ These individuals are employed in some way by enemies of the Federation. The Bajoran is likely no more a child than I. Keep doing what you are doing, but don’t trust them. ~
She looked down at herself momentarily, oversized sleeves, boots slightly loose, phaser belt barely held up on narrower hips.
oO Is this classified as a radiation related injury? Oo
She gestured for Wren to lead the way to the Sickbay Complex on deck 10.
T’Fearne: ::to Kangar and Rurat’dari, lifting her chin and trying to sound stern:: Do either of you care to explain why this one was shooting at us?
Rurat'dari/Kangar: Response
T’Fearne: Noted. Let’s proceed to Sickbay. Get you some help.
((Sickbay Complex, Deck 10, USS Ronin))
Sickbay was chaos.
Biobeds overflowed. Portable diagnostic units hummed constantly. Medics moved with urgency between the rescued personnel… and what seemed to be all the babies from the moon base they had rescued earlier. Some slept on cots, others on the deck wrapped in thermal blankets. A few simply stared, hollow-eyed.
T’Fearne had called ahead for security support to meet them at the sickbay complex and assist with overseeing the rescued personnel. She needn’t have worried. Security had already been called to attend. Some sort of miniature mutiny from what she gathered.
It took a while before anyone was able to see them, triage and babies took precedence, but before too long a sleepy looking nurse scanned them, took vitals, patched scrapes, upped their radiation boosters and confirmed that Shortrith had O’Connor well in hand.
Some time later T’Fearne sat perched on the corner of a biobed, near where Sybil was receiving treatment. Her friend was stable, apparently, but injured and potentially exposed to radiation contamination through her hazard suit.
The security officer had been made to sit on a biobed, her short legs didn't reach the ground and kept swinging in an undignified way so she sat crosslegged. Her borrowed engineering uniform — courtesy of Wren — was clean and actually fit, more or less. All her own uniforms currently drowned her. The sleeves had still needed rolling.
The osteogenic stimulator wrapped snugly around her torso pulsed rhythmically, encouraging her fractured ribs to knit faster. Every pulse produced a strange, almost itchy warmth inside her chest. The stabilizing cycle was nearly done when the Klaxons cut through Sickbay. Lights shifted instantly to emergency red.
Kel: =/\= Kel to O'Connor, Wren and T'Fearne. I need you on the bridge ASAP. =/\=
Wren gave her an immediate grin and bolted for the exit.
A wistful grin crossed the Vulcazoid’s face. She knew someone just like that. Always running headlong into the fray. She missed Alyndra, her dear friend terribly at that moment.
T'Fearne: ::Trying to sound older:: =/\= Acknowledged. On my way, Captain. =/\=
Rurat'dari/Kangar: Optional Response
Sighing carefully and discarding the bone knitter as it chirped in protest that it had almost finished its cycle. A red alert didn’t wait for you to be ready. With a last look back at where Ian and Sybil were still receiving care and a stern attempt at a hard glare at the two they had picked up from the moon, T’Fearne broke into as fast a walk as she could manage, following the ensign apparently with an EPS relay running through her system.
It took her a moment to catch up at the turbolift as Wren commented conversationally.
Wren: And my brother said being an engineer on a space-station wouldn’t be healthy. I don’t think I’ve done this much cardio in ages.
T’Fearne arched an eyebrow.
T’Fearne: I suspect he thought it wouldn’t be healthy for other reasons, ensign. Explosive decompression. Reactor containment failure. Blunt force trauma. Radiation poisoning...Temporal anomalies.
She allowed the faintest dry smile.
The turbo lift whisked them onward to the Bridge.
[Tags / Start of Act 3 T’Fearne TBC in part 2]
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Security Officer
USS Ronin - NCC-34523
R240107T14