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Lt JG Yael - Murderous Ghost Targ with Abandonment Issues

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When a random idea on Discord becomes an adventure...


((Starbase 118 - IKS Yan – Unlisted Shuttebay 14))


Yael:  ::trying to lighten the moment::  Give me a few minutes before you send in the Marines.


He took his non-standard phaser, slipped it into his decorated vest, and headed into the vent in search of whatever it was.  It was a bit more snug than even a Jeffreys Tube, but he was trim enough that he could manage, and it was wide enough to possibly turn around… maybe.


The smell was terrible on the bridge, but was concentrated in the vent.  Ashley tried not to think about it too much and just breathed through his nose… he didn’t want the *taste* of whatever it was in his mouth.


Crawling, he could barely fit in the vent… there was more space side to side than there was up to down, so he made his way somewhat slowly.  It was darker now, and getting darker… he tried not to breathe too deeply, but it was hard not to be a bit claustrophobic in this sort of place… reaching into his pocket on his vest, he produced a small multi-tool and activated the small flashlight.  He held it in his mouth as he moved.


The smell was worsening, and he shuddered as he turned a slight left corner in the vent.  It was *RANCID*... and smelled of death, or disease.  His instinct was to stay away, but he needed to clear it.


Finally he came upon… something.  Another slight left turn in the vent, and there it was.


The rotting husk of a targ.


He nearly vomited at the sight of it, but kept the contents of his stomach *inside* his stomach, by some matter of willpower.


It was probably one of the most *gross* things he’d ever seen.  Live targ were gross enough, furry, and dirty animals, with hardly a friendly feature.  This one was a starved husk that had partially melted into the grating in the “floor” of the vent.


Yael:  ::his nose wrinkling in disgust::  Ugh…


Pulling the phase pistol from his vest, he checked his settings, made sure it was on a high yield, took aim with both hands while braced on his elbows, and fired a single long shot at the mass.


It lit up with the power of the pistol, and over the course of two seconds completely disintegrated.  All that was left was the stain on the grate beneath where it had laid down to die.


Sighing lightly, Ashley lowered the phaser and his gaze, glad to be rid of one small problem in the line of problems…


And then yelped in shock when something grabbed his ankle.


Instantly his body jerked in response as he kicked at whatever had hold of him, and his head smacked into the vent above.  Grunting, looking quickly down past his body in the vent, he swung the phaser to aim down the length of his legs ready to shoot whatever it was, and found… with his heart in his throat… 




Absolutely nothing.


He breathed hard for a solid moment, eyes darting in the low light from the multi-tool that had fallen to the grated floor of the vent, searching for movement or hostile shapes and finding none.


Nothing.  There was nothing.


He had to get out of here.  The smell was obviously melting his brain.


Tucking the phaser back in his vest, he reached a hand up to rub the back of his head while cringing at the throbbing pain.


Yael:  Oww… freaking Klingon ship, trying to murder me…


Carefully… gauging just how capable he was of doing it first… he turned round in the vent.  It took a bit more stretch than he was comfortable with, but he was able to do it.  Then he made his way back down the vent.  He’d made two slight lefts to get here, so he needed two slight rights to return.  Though, in the darkness, he *knew* where he was, his stress level was rising.


He didn’t want to end up a desiccated body stuck in an endless array of vents like that poor targ had.


The light began to reflect down the shaft as he got closer to his entry point, and then he saw the point of light that would lead him back to the command center of the vessel.  As soon as he broke through the vents open hatch he took a deep breath, the air on the bridge far less repulsive than that trapped in the vents.  Pushing his upper body free first, then pulling his legs free behind him, he stood and brushed himself off.


Yael:  ::in a muted tone::  Well, *that* was exciting… ::to the others::  Some poor targ decided to get lost in the vent.  Probably a foodstuff left behind when the vessel was taken out of active service.


McLaren:  ?


Yael:  Incinerated what was left of it.  Hopefully the air begins to clear.  ::giving their team leader a smile::  It’ll improve morale, if nothing else.


Blackwell/Parvana/Zel:  ?




Rogue Merchant & Opportunist


Lieutenant JG Ashley Yael


Starbase 118 Ops


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