welcome to the jungle
Jul. 28th, 2025 07:21 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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sindicate[ The science team's beacon is still active, flashing, silently transmitting the same SOS that had drawn Spock and Jim down to the planet hours ago. It is standard issue, no voice recording available. Something, Spock thinks as he kneels down to retrieve it from the vine-covered ground, that must be rectified. There has been no sign of the team themselves. No sign of anyone living on this planetoid, only the ruins of the laboratory structure they have picked their way through, consoles live beneath overgrowth, supplies abandoned in quantities large enough to have Spock raising an eyebrow. A rapid exodus, though there has so far been no sign of what drove the Klingons from their facility. Fortunate.
He pauses as he meets resistance; the beacon is caught on something in the vines.
A firmer tug has the resistance giving way. A skeletal arm, mossy and wet creaks as it's lifted by the hand still firmly clutching the beacon. Strips of flesh dangle from glistening streaky bones and a few scraps of fabric still cling, unmistakably Starfleet science blue. Spock wrinkles his nose as he catches the iron-tang of human blood.
Through the newly-made hole in the vines, Spock can look down and see the rest of the body, little more than a skeleton wrapped in an odd, viny cocoon. A glint catches his eye — with his other hand, he reaches in and plucks out a delta from the remnants of a shirt. Holding it up, he turns to his companion, grim. ]
It would seem we have discovered the missing away team, Captain.
He pauses as he meets resistance; the beacon is caught on something in the vines.
A firmer tug has the resistance giving way. A skeletal arm, mossy and wet creaks as it's lifted by the hand still firmly clutching the beacon. Strips of flesh dangle from glistening streaky bones and a few scraps of fabric still cling, unmistakably Starfleet science blue. Spock wrinkles his nose as he catches the iron-tang of human blood.
Through the newly-made hole in the vines, Spock can look down and see the rest of the body, little more than a skeleton wrapped in an odd, viny cocoon. A glint catches his eye — with his other hand, he reaches in and plucks out a delta from the remnants of a shirt. Holding it up, he turns to his companion, grim. ]
It would seem we have discovered the missing away team, Captain.
