08-02-2025, 12:27 PM
Things moved fast when you were in Security. Things moved fast in Starfleet, full stop. But Security had a different feel to it: sometimes it was hurry-up-and-wait, or wait-and-wait and then full-boar, and sometimes it was just chaos. Artie loved the chaos. She thrived on it.
Engineering told her that the hatch-in-question’s servomechanism was burned out. They were working on it. And their thoughts were the same as the ones regarding their special racing shuttle: sabotage.
Alden came up to her, speaking low and confirming the theory that was slowly but surely wrapping itself around officers’ heads. Sabotage. It was a hard pill to swallow.
After what seemed like ages -chaos did make time warp- the giant display on the bulkhead, which contained the map, told her the Yeager exited the anomaly. The ion storm, or whatever it may have been. Art was ready to allow herself an exhale of relief, when she blinked and saw that things were very different from what they had been just a short moment ago.
Everyone around her were in different uniforms. The ship looked structurally the same, but the stations were of a completely different design. Art’s attention snapped to the large display again, only to find the display was smaller, and off. The black, reflective screen showed the Security Chief her face, and Art let out an involuntary sound when she saw who was staring back at her.
It was not her.
The person who stared back at her was wearing the same grey-and-black uniform as the rest of the officers, and her face…
Art carefully touched a hand to her forehead. She felt her Klingon ridges, but as her reflection also touched her head, there were none. Art’s darker skin was now pale, and the shape of her face was thin. The reflection’s hair was darker, and as Art stared as the reflection closer, even the eyes were darker. The person who stared back at her was certainly of no Klingon blood. The woman looked, if Art was to be slightly assuming, positively Betazoid.
At least she felt the familiar weight of a weapon on her hip.
She wanted to call out for somebody, find somebody familiar and ask them ‘what the hell,’ even if she knew they also didn’t have the answers. But no one around her shared a face with the people she knew. Hell, she didn’t have her own face, and that was unnerving enough.
Alarms klaxoned. Art instinctively snapped towards the sound, her hand already on that bulky weapon.
[JEM’HADAR]
All the display screens were flashing with the red alert message.
[WARNING: JEM’HADAR]
Art couldn’t believe what she was seeing. What she was hearing.
[WARNING: JEM’HADAR BOARDING DETECTED]
“Alden?” She didn’t call it out, but rather said the name carefully, just loud enough to be heard over this new din of chaos. This chaos that was not hers. This chaos that was the panic of a ship being boarded.
==GM:
–Do Art & Leo see each other as their true selves?
–Does Art somehow have any Betazoid ‘powers’ ?
–Are the people present still the crew of the Yeager, just changed, or are they entirely new/different people? ==
Engineering told her that the hatch-in-question’s servomechanism was burned out. They were working on it. And their thoughts were the same as the ones regarding their special racing shuttle: sabotage.
Alden came up to her, speaking low and confirming the theory that was slowly but surely wrapping itself around officers’ heads. Sabotage. It was a hard pill to swallow.
After what seemed like ages -chaos did make time warp- the giant display on the bulkhead, which contained the map, told her the Yeager exited the anomaly. The ion storm, or whatever it may have been. Art was ready to allow herself an exhale of relief, when she blinked and saw that things were very different from what they had been just a short moment ago.
Everyone around her were in different uniforms. The ship looked structurally the same, but the stations were of a completely different design. Art’s attention snapped to the large display again, only to find the display was smaller, and off. The black, reflective screen showed the Security Chief her face, and Art let out an involuntary sound when she saw who was staring back at her.
It was not her.
The person who stared back at her was wearing the same grey-and-black uniform as the rest of the officers, and her face…
Art carefully touched a hand to her forehead. She felt her Klingon ridges, but as her reflection also touched her head, there were none. Art’s darker skin was now pale, and the shape of her face was thin. The reflection’s hair was darker, and as Art stared as the reflection closer, even the eyes were darker. The person who stared back at her was certainly of no Klingon blood. The woman looked, if Art was to be slightly assuming, positively Betazoid.
At least she felt the familiar weight of a weapon on her hip.
She wanted to call out for somebody, find somebody familiar and ask them ‘what the hell,’ even if she knew they also didn’t have the answers. But no one around her shared a face with the people she knew. Hell, she didn’t have her own face, and that was unnerving enough.
Alarms klaxoned. Art instinctively snapped towards the sound, her hand already on that bulky weapon.
[JEM’HADAR]
All the display screens were flashing with the red alert message.
[WARNING: JEM’HADAR]
Art couldn’t believe what she was seeing. What she was hearing.
[WARNING: JEM’HADAR BOARDING DETECTED]
“Alden?” She didn’t call it out, but rather said the name carefully, just loud enough to be heard over this new din of chaos. This chaos that was not hers. This chaos that was the panic of a ship being boarded.
==GM:
–Do Art & Leo see each other as their true selves?
–Does Art somehow have any Betazoid ‘powers’ ?
–Are the people present still the crew of the Yeager, just changed, or are they entirely new/different people? ==