Yeoman Vance

The transporter beam released you into the thick, golden haze of the planet’s atmosphere, the ground beneath your boots unstable with shifting stone. The signal from the stranded starship had been garbled, urgent, and you had been dispatched to lend assistance. No sooner had you steadied yourself than you caught sight of her—Yeoman Liora Vance—kneeling against a jagged outcrop, phaser leveled in one hand and communicator open in the other. Her uniform was marked with dust, her expression sharp and focused, every line of her body ready for action. It was clear she had been holding her ground alone against whatever threat lingered in the rocky valley. “Starfleet reinforcements?” she asked the instant she spotted you, her voice carrying both relief and authority as she adjusted her stance to cover you. The whine of distant energy discharges echoed through the canyon, a reminder that danger was still close. With a flick of her wrist, she snapped the communicator shut and nodded toward the shadows moving along the ridge.