Ensign T’Fearne - The Roots of the Tree [Part 2]
Teayl Thorn
((OOC: I hope this goes through, I’m in a low connection area at the moment, hopefully I’m not spamming the group with this email.))
((Lavatory Module, Outer Concourse, Tether Terminal, Proxima Sigma IV))
((T-Minus 85 Hours, 42 Minutes to Impact))
The beam from O’Connor’s torch swept across the dingy lavatory floor—and stopped.
A body.
Clearly deceased, sprawled in an undignified manner on the floor. Clad in the recognisable uniform of a locomotive worker with heavy boots. An odd coincidence considering the pile of discarded outerwear she had just found in the corridor. She didn’t think that gear belonged to the deceased. Was there then an individual running around the Terminal in their undergarments?
There were signs of a struggle—subtle, but present.
Kirsty added her light, illuminating the crime scene more thoroughly and gestured for the doctor to come forward.
A prickle of apprehension tickled up T’Fearne’s neck, and she backed out of the compartment slightly, putting her back to the door and shining her rifle light first one way and then the other down the dark, deserted corridor leading back to the lobby. Nothing but shadows and the distant, pulsing klaxon echoing deeper into the facility.
Behind her, hushed voices broke the grim silence..
Carpenter: Can you tell how long he's been dead?
Syrex: Certainly.
The Commander turned to her sharply, and T’Fearne had to suppress a start.
Carpenter: Make a sweep of the rest of the room. Don't touch anything you don't have to. Prioritise any other Soloton Express uniforms or work gear.
Nodding, T’Fearne darted back into the room, she took a careful scan of the room, picking up biological residue and particulates indicating more than one assailant, six distinct and recent profiles began to appear, including the deceased individual.
T’Fearne: No ID or chip? :: gesturing at the body:: From his attire, he could be a train attendant or cargo handler, maybe. :: voice growing more speculative:: Not security. I would have thought that Terminal Security would need to be subdued for any type of sabotage to proceed.
Across the room, a row of sealed lockers caught her eye. She hesitated, contemplating letting the tricorder crack the locks, then glanced at Ian and pulled her phase pistol free of her thigh holster.
T’Fearne: :: warning :: I’m burning through these locks. Mind your eyes.
The electronic locks melted with a series of swift zaps and a hiss of smoke.
She hid a slight smile behind a hand as she wafted away the acrid vapour with the other. Ian’s way had been much quicker and more satisfying than using the tricorder.
Carpenter: And see if you can get the lights up. These torches aren't gonna help us much for long.
The Lt. nodded affirmatively to the Chief’s orders, getting to work with an audible sigh.
Then—ZAP.
Again, without warning, a phaser discharge from the far corner made her jolt. Ian was casually carving through a plastercrete wall with the ease of someone who'd done this sort of thing before. That made her think he was maybe used to making his own way through situations. First, the incident with the Sojourn, the falling debris, and his actions were starting to form a profile of him in her mind. The kind of officer whose way of doing things, even for the good of others, might also see them in the brig on station, where the rules were more rigid.
As he disappeared into the wall with his torch, Alyndra crouched beside the body. T’Fearne returned to scanning the remaining lockers, eyes flitting for anything out of place, all on Kirsty's orders.
She was grateful Ian had acted fast earlier—it had likely saved them. But part of her sympathised with Kirsty, who looked to have come within one of Luxa’s whiskers of having an aneurysm.
As her search continued, torchlight ghosting over the contents of the compartments, T’Fearne stole a worried glance at Kirsty. Her brows pulled together, not at the forensic detail she was gathering, but at the emotional undercurrent she was sensing—something seemed out of place with the Commander.
T’Fearne’s senses were still a little rattled from that moment in the street where they had nearly all been chopped and cooked by molten debris. But she sensed a strong emotion blooming from her CO. For a moment, it seemed like joy, and then the same emotion twisted, inverted on itself in her mind like the crack of an energy whip that left her forehead throbbing. Now the emotion seemed something akin to tension or stress, but more complex.
Her empathic senses, increasingly unreliable, were a source of concern for her.
During the battle at DS33, she experienced an event—her senses expanded somehow—when the station was bombarded by sencha radiation, in the heat of combat, some part of her mind created a bridge or a link to abilities she thought beyond her grasp. Since then, her empathic reach had grown stronger, beyond mere touching distance, to meters or even decks away at times, but her accuracy had dropped, and she couldn’t understand it. Now it was distracting in the middle of an important mission. Any mistake in perception on her part here could cost lives.
She exhaled through her nose, grounding herself.
oO Focus, Fea. You’re reading emotions like a broken tricorder. Rely on your other senses, forget the emotions! Oo
Her search of the compartments came up partially empty. There were shoes in most of the lockers, dock and cargo handler uniforms in two of them,… leaving five pairs of heavy workshoes without uniforms.
oO Curious. Oo
Alyndra’s voice broke through her musings.
Syrex: Time of death was roughly four or five hours ago, commander. If you give me maybe five minutes, I can work out the cause of death.
Carpenter: I think this means that whoever is attacking the train had inside sources. And more than that, they have been planning this for a very, very long time. This ain't over. No, this is bigger'than a train robbery. This all just proves it. Now we just gotta make it all fit.
T’Fearne looked at her CO, trying to keep her face carefully neutral. The logic leap felt abrupt. She couldn’t see the full picture—not yet. She hesitated, unsure that voicing her doubts would be welcome at a time like this. But Kirsty had been encouraging of her input before.
T’Fearne: :: Licking lips and shaking head:: I can’t see how this suggests infiltration. Removing a staff member to steal their place, maybe. The missing ID supports that. But the train departed from Alpha Sigma over 40 hours ago and is heading here. The explosion that tore the Orbital Receiving Station apart? :: pointing at the ceiling :: That and this one's death happened about the same time—merely 5 hours ago, long after the train was already in transit. That might just mean he saw something… or was in the way of the sabotage, some sort of accident or a direct act of terrorism. But beyond that? I don’t see enough evidence yet to infer anything larger.
oO What are you seeing that I missed? Oo
Alyndra sighed and pressed her hand to the wall.
Syrex: We just need the rest of the pieces… I’ll get going on putting this part of the jigsaw together..
T’Fearne: :: knuckling her temple :: If you say so. One connection I do see is that there are six distinct and recent biological signatures, including the deceased in this room. There also appear to be five broken lockers and five uniforms of some kind missing. That could be a coincidence.
Carpenter: Yer both doin' phenomenal. Keep it up. And T'Fearne keep an eye on our Medic while she works. I'm gonna finish setting out our supplies and then check on how-
The lights flickered. Then flared to life.
T’Fearne squinted instinctively at the sudden brightness as her eyes adjusted. The shift in illumination revealed more of their environment.
Kristy began to cross the lobby, which was filled with all sorts of gear that was strewn about, and Ian reappeared from his hole in the wall and followed her.
O'Connor: Let there be light. I’m no Tuck but I think it’ll maintain for the time being. Commander, look I apologize for frustrating the hell out of you back there. I just didn’t have time to explain. I didn’t mean to undermine your command before. I’m sorry. I just want to help. ::He paused and gestured around.:: not that throwing literal light on the situation has cleared anything up with our current situation.
Carpenter: Thank you, Mister O'Connor. Though...eventually The Captain is going to call and I would like to be able to answer at least a few of his questions. Bodies...missing survivors...debris STILL falling from the Station? None of it makes any sense to me, I'll admit. Please holler if it ever does to you.
O'Connor: Commander, I don’t holler. I only get hollered at.
Carpenter: See now you are just pushin' it. Help me finish settin' up our "triage". I'm sure we're gonna need it sooner rather than later. Syrex and T'Fearne will let us know if they have somethin'...
O'Connor: You got it.
The two senior officers headed back to the lobby and their supplies. T’Fearne turned and crouched next to Alyndra.
T'Fearne: :: quietly :: With how he blasts through everything, I’m not surprised he gets yelled at frequently! :: indicating the deceased:: Did you find the cause of death?
Syrex: RESPONSE
[Just one tag for Syrex! / End of Act One for T’Fearne]
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Security Officer
USS Ronin - NCC-34523
R240107T14