Of All the Stations in All the Universe...

Posted on Fri Feb 12th, 2021 @ 9:05pm by Centurion Nancy Gable

1,617 words; about a 8 minute read

Mission: Chapter III: The Hunt is On
Location: Drozana
Timeline: 238702.03

Gable's usual drink was raktijino, but The Magic Bean advertised real coffee from real beans and that was worth checking out. So now she was sitting happily in the coffee shop, drinking in the smell as much as the taste of genuine coffee while engaging in some light people-watching. Drozana wasn't the sort of place most people would pick for that - most of the denizens didn't care to be watched and quite a few would shoot a threatening stare back at anyone paying too much notice, but Nancy could glare with the best of them and the sorts of people on display made it especially interesting. The station HVAC was partially fixed, so there wasn't quite as much skimpy clothing as before, which was perfectly okay with her: very few folks looked half as good half naked as they seemingly thought they did. Granted, some did, but they were generally the ones whose stock and trade depended on it, which put them firmly the category of 'not her type' so she noticed them only to the extent that there was some unusual flash or creativity in their lack of proper attire. More interesting were the various villians and toughs. There were people trying to look innocuous (though clearly not), ones signaling in every possibly way that they were not to be messed with (which usually meant they weren't really so tough), and the ones who actually were dangerous but showed it only in a certain confidence and carriage (they were Nancy's favorites, even if she'd never ever admit that to Rogers). There were also merchants, travellers, every species and walk of life just passing through. Romulans, Orions, Ferengi, Tellarites, humans, Dosadi...

No. It can't be... Her eyes cut back to the Dosadi, still some way down the corridor. The cougar-like felinoid was dressed like a common merchant - boots, breeches and a green tunic robe edged in a sandy tan shade that was nearly a match to her tawny fur. Like any sensible merchant on Drozana she had a disrupter on her hip, in her case augmented by natural weapons: claws hidden in the tips of fine-furred fingers. None of that was especially worthy of notice, but there was something about her posture - an attitude that despite being barely more than a meter and half tall she absolutely fell into the 'actually dangerous' category... And then a tall blonde human in similar garb stepped out of a shop to join her, leaving absolutely no doubt.

Nancy shook her head. Dear Lord, T'Ango, why would you bring Gunnar of all people to a place like Drozana? Back when they'd served together, someone had once described the Icelander to her as 'Thor, if Thor was a peace-loving overgrown boy scout' and in her opinion, that was pretty on the money.

Of course she might be jumping to conclusions; it had been years since she'd last seen him. They'd both left Starfleet to continue the Romulan rescue effort - she to a group operating near the Neutral Zone and eventually further in, while he'd gone with T'Ango to join efforts by the Dosadi. Honestly, if not for T'Ango she might not have recognized him. He had a close-trimmed beard and his hair was different, both styled no doubt to fit in more among his hosts, at least to the extent that was possible for a human a head taller than any Dosadi. Maybe he'd changed more than his appearance to fit into a society of adrenaline junkie cats with an honor code and warrior tradition second only to Klingons?

She eyed the man as they got nearer. Nope. A medkit was obvious, but if he was carrying a weapon other than a sedative-filled hypo it was very well hidden. She'd had a brief hope from the way he moved, but then he'd always had a certain athletic grace; it just had nothing to do with martial training. If aikido hadn't been an option she was convinced he'd have never passed the Academy hand-to-hand requirement, and from the looks of things that hadn't changed. Nancy sighed. What did you expect? He was abducted by a bunch of rogue Klingons and still came out as much of a pacificist. Well, he wasn't her problem anymore...

"Gable! Is that you?"

baQa'. Of course the giant caffeine addict had keyed on a coffee shop... Nancy lifted a hand in a small gesture of recognition. "Arnason. Never expected to see you here."

"What about me?" T'Ango asked, ears perking as she headed over with a Cheshire cat grin.

"I'm surprised I haven't seen you before now," Nancy snarked. Her head jerked toward the man pausing to signal for a large coffee on the way to her table. "I just don't know why you'd bring him."

"Body guard," Gunnar deadpanned, then laughed when T'Ango playfully backhanded his chest. "Medical support. Obviously," he corrected, and nodded at T'Ango with a fond smile. "She could take out ten of me and not even raise her heart rate."

"Flatterer." T'Ango batted him lightly with her tail.

"Sounds like the God's honest truth to me," Nancy remarked. She looked him up and down. "Tell me there's at least knife in your boot."

Gunnar tipped his head side-to-side. "More of a multi-tool." He smiled at Nancy's disappointed scowl. In a lot of ways she was the older sister he'd never had - a grumpy, judgmental older sister who'd never let him live down trying stop a fully armed Sindareen with nothing but a medscanner, but one who (mostly) snapped at him because she cared. "There's a small laser scalpel in my kit if it makes you feel any better."

"It doesn't, though I suppose a knife wouldn't matter anyway. You were solid medical officer, Gunnar, but you've got the killer instinct of a golden retriever puppy." She shifted her gaze to T'Ango. "You should put a leash on him so people know he's yours and leave him alone."

"Nah," T'Ango's whiskers twitched a beat. "A leash is more Divash's thing." She cast a sidelong glance up at Gunnar, tail swishing at eliciting a slight blush. "Though I have considered a belled collar."

He widened his eyes at her a moment, then shook his head chuckling at what was now an old joke between them. "I suppose I deserve that."

"You do, and probably even more by now," Nancy stated with complete certainty. He was a good person to have in a MassCal - dedicated, and those long legs let him seem to be everywhere at once - but at least twice he'd decided to dual role as a corpseman. In retrospect it had been necessary but he hadn't told anyone. 'Where the frak is Gunnar?' was only answered when he showed up with a patient in a fireman's carry. If a Cardassian hadn't shot him the second time he pulled that, she might have.

"Oh, yes," T'Ango confirmed, enjoying an opportunity to double-team the man who usually got to do that to her with the Dosadi docs. "I can't count how many times he wound up on the opposite side of a refugee camp. Then there was wandering off on FreeCloud... oh, and tackling a slaver, and getting stabbed for his trouble."

"Okay, but he had a kid - I wasn't going to let him carry a toddler off. You wouldn't have either." He raised brows at her with a knowing look. "Besides, I'm not the one holding an Imperal Marine record for wound badges."

Nancy shook her head, suppressing a chuckle. "You two haven't changed at all."

"You seem pretty much same too. Other than the Romulan rank insignia," Gunnar noted, pausing to take his coffee from the automated server. "So, what brings you here? Last we heard, you were with General Dorvaela's medical flotilla."

"I was, but we ambushed. My ship and a handful of survivors managed to limp here." She frowned into her coffee. "Afterward I signed on with a mercenary crew interested in finding the pirate that attacked us, some character called the Vulture."

Her old friends exchanged a look. "We've heard of him," T'Ango replied with a flash of fang. "Bad business, that one. Plenty of Raiders would be glad to take him down, myself included," she added, ears flattening back. "We're here for a different mission, but we'll help anyway we can."

"Appreciated. Information is what's lacking, though personally I wouldn't mind a Dosadi Raider team for back up," Nancy answered sincerely, though how the Romulans on the crew would feel about a contingent of special forces from a small but persistent rival, she had no idea. "But probably for the best you've got another engagement." She smirked at Gunnar. "I already have a medic who's driving me up a wall, so that position is filled."

"Hard to belive I'm replaceable there..." Gunnar lifted his coffee in partial toast before taking a sip. "..Mmm - this is real coffee!"

Nancy snorted. "Hope what you're here for pays well. You know how he is about coffee." She lifted an inquiring brow at T'Ango, as she lifted her own cup for a sip. "What are you here for anyway?"

"You're not going to believe this, but we got a call from Renee -"

**PFfftt** The explanation was interrupted by a spray of coffee. "Renee Hernandez??"

Gunnar wiped his face and frowned at the appalling waste of good coffee. "Does this mean you've seen her?"

"Yes." Nancy sighed. First Rogers, now this. She really must have hacked off some local diety. "She just signed onto my ship..."

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