Ensign T’Fearne - The Stench of Disaster
teayl.thorn
((Curved Corridor Sector 04, Deck 8, USS Ronin))
T'Fearne had just finished a long shift in the Security Complex, though she typically enjoyed the work. This shift had been a grind that had her craving a workout and a meal. Her plan was straightforward: head to her quarters, change into something comfortable, hit the gym for some conditioning, and then see if Alyndra was free to unwind at the 47.
She strode out of the turbolift on Deck 8, stretching slightly as the doors swished open. The corridor ahead was bright in a sterile, almost artificial way compared to the dim, tactical glow of the Security Complex. She made a right and moved toward the slightly curved circumferal corridor that would lead to her quarters in Sector 4, but just as she was about to take the next left, a wave of foul air hit her like a physical blow.
The stench was overpowering—thick, rancid, and oddly aquatic. It smacked her right in the face, and she stumbled back against the bulkhead, nasal passage on fire.
oO Great Fire! What is…what is that! Something must be wrong with the environmental systems. This is worse than any Terran or Trill scent I've encountered aboard. Oo
Instinctively, she pinched her nostrils shut, drawing as shallow a breath as she could manage, and clamped a hand over her mouth. Her eyes watered slightly as she edged forward into the intersection. The slightly curving corridor followed the internal curve of the main hull. She could see a faint yellow-green mist hanging in the air, mainly plumeing low to the ground.
Further down the corridor, near the quarters she shared with Alyndra, a figure was visibly struggling to stand upright.
The officer, a Ferengi, coughed and stumbled back further away from the door. T’Fearne vaguely recognised him as one of her sector neighbours since the refit at DS9 but wasn’t sure of his name until he confirmed it over the comm, and her pointed ears picked up most of the conversation with Cmdr. Lorana as she slowly approached.
Poagie: =/\= Ensign Poagie to Lt. Cmdr. Lorana. =/\=
Lorana: =/\= Response =/\=
Poagie: =/\= Well first, I wanted to congratulate you on buying your way into the acting Chief Science Officer role. Your standard promotion “gift” will be forthcoming, along with my requested for preferred assignments and duty shifts. =/\=
Lorana: =/\= Response =/\=
Poagie: =/\= Right, sure, understood. Second, I’m declaring a biohazard emergency in room 0404 on deck 8. And as Chief of Science it is your, uh, “duty” ::slight giggle like an eight-year-old boy (some things are truly universal):: to deal with all biohazards. Again congrats on the promotion. Poagie out. =/\=
Lorana: =/\= Response =/\=
Poagie: Help is on the way, Nemo.
Her ears pricked up at the mention of declaring a biohazard emergency at the location. Her steps slowed. She really didn’t want to have to spend any time in decon, but she was probably already contaminated and there might be a crewman in need of assistance.
She forced herself to approach closer. The stench had grown more alarming even though she still clamped a hand over her nose and mouth.
T’Fearne::: Slightly muffled:: Ensign…er…Poagie! What’s happened? Do you need assistance?
Any walking through hallway or heading to/from quarters: Response
Poagie: Response
T’Fearne::: still muffled:: I’m not offering a business arrangement for assistance. I’m security! It’s... my job. We should cordon off the sector if you’ve contacted sickbay and notified the Science department of a bio-hazard area. Stop anyone else from coming through here.
Any/Poagie/k’Oar-€l (from inside):: Response
She stared at the science officer in mild horror. She could do nothing for the unfortunate ensign with the hideous medical problem.
T’Fearne: I’ll get Ops involved to help coordinate containment.
Slaps her comm whilst taking a step back to lean against the bulkhead.
T’Fearne::: gasping:: =/\= Security to Ops… biohazard in Room 0404, Deck 8 and Starboard corridor sector 4….Environmental suits should probably be worn as a precaution. Please advise the crew to stay sealed in their quarters or avoid the area until further notice. =/\= :: looking at the Ferengi officer:: Are you going to stay here with...your roommate?
Any/Poagie: Response
Her eyelids strained, and fluid began expelling from her tear ducts to protect her eyes. She was feeling dizzy, and lightheaded from the stench. However, she was not sure if that was from holding her breath or the putrification coming from the Antedian’s quarters. If she didn’t get away from the sector, she feared she might become a casualty in the situation, and she could forget about her dinner plans.
oO Alyndra and I will need to move quarters! Sybil, too, probably. This deck isn't viably habitable anymore. Oo
[Tag / TBC]
((OOC: Jumping in on the Any tags here as this is a funny one XD. Happy to continue on this or run away as the situation unfolds.))
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Security Officer
USS Ronin - NCC-34523
R240107T14