T'Mirras' mouth curls into the shadow of a smirk at Kotho's inspiring speech. She was about to answer that she certainly hadn't signed up for shuttle crashes, but the retort dies in her throat as the shrieking, grunting, and stomping fill the air.
The security officer draws her phaser in one hand and her tricorder in the other. "It seems we've alerted the local wildlife. Be ready to retreat into the runabout," she says with a bit more edge to her voice than one would expect from a Vulcan. Her hands are clenched tight on her equipment, her mouth suddenly dry, her muscles tense as her body starts pumping adrenaline through her veins again.
T'Mirras turns, scanning the area around the crashed shuttle, trying to pinpoint the origin of commotion. Flashes of teeth and claws, slick with blood flood her mind. She focuses on the readings on the screen of her tricorder, doing her best to push the memories away.