Hell Raisers & Beer Drinkers, Part 1
Posted on Sat Jan 25th, 2025 @ 8:21pm by Crewman Mateo Gardel & Lieutenant JG Aria Rice
Edited on on Sat Feb 15th, 2025 @ 11:03pm
3,091 words; about a 15 minute read
Mission:
To Boldly Go
Location: Valhalla Bar, USS Fenrir
Timeline: Day 9
[ON]
Lieutenant Aria Rice, adventurer extraordinaire, defender of the borders of the Federation and person most likely to be promoted and demoted in the same week absolutely loved the Valhalla. The fact a bar was named for where slain heroes went in the afterlife in Earth Norse mythology. A place with ever replenishing food (well, there was a kitchen and there was a replicator, that counted?), ever flowing drinks (well, it was a bar), pleasures (you made your own. Some naughty, some nice) and battle (well, she wanted to avoid that bit in the bar). A place where gods and people feasted together.
Actually, all things considered, the bar was snazzy. The seats were comfortable and the curve of the bar was perfect to lean against. And Aria had gone proper off duty Aria too! It meant her favourite high heeled boots with the buckles, a pair of tight red jeans with a long corseted top in black and her hair straight with red streaks. She had also put on more makeup than she'd do on duty, because of the uniform code and stuff like that. She smiled excitedly as she took the cocktail she had ordered, lifting it to sip. "Mmm! Sweet, strong with a hint of sour. Perfect!" she declared to the bartender and winked before she turned to survey the people here. Not that it was crowded, no. People were still settling in. So some people wanted to decorate their quarters or what not. Aria had just needed to unpack and once she was done with that, it was straight to the bar to explore.
Mateo paused just outside the entrance to Valhalla, the bar’s glowing signage catching his eye. It was more than just a marker—it was art. The letters shimmered with a soft, kinetic glow, their angular shapes inspired by ancient Norse runes yet unmistakably Starfleet in their sleekness. Light danced across the surface in waves of blue and gold, evoking the elegance of an aurora. It felt perfectly at home aboard the USS Fenrir, blending tradition with innovation in a way that hinted at the adventures yet to come.
He took a steadying breath, the muted hum of voices and occasional bursts of laughter filtering through the doors. The past three days had been a whirlwind, an endless string of introductions, evaluations, and the overwhelming task of settling in. Between the CMO’s physical, Steele’s counseling session, and unpacking his belongings into the pristine quarters that still smelled faintly of new construction, Mateo felt like he hadn’t had a single moment to breathe. And the lab? That was a beast unto itself—hours spent methodically organizing equipment and supplies, ensuring everything was exactly where it needed to be before the ship’s first mission.
For now, the Fenrir remained docked at Utopia Planitia Fleet Yards on Mars, its towering drydocks stretching against the backdrop of the planet’s copper-red surface. The yards were a marvel of engineering, bustling with workers and starships in various stages of construction and maintenance. Mateo had caught glimpses of the activity through the observation windows as he moved about the ship, but tonight, he was happy to leave that all behind. He wasn’t looking for anything profound. He just wanted to sit, sip a cold beer, and let the tension of the past few days bleed away.
Adjusting the hem of his off-the-shoulder emerald sweater, Mateo let the soft fabric settle back into place, brushing against his skin with a comforting weight. The sweater, slightly oversized, draped elegantly across one shoulder, leaving the other bare and accentuating the prominent line of his collarbone. The rich green hue contrasted beautifully with the deep burgundy scarf tied as a belt around his slim black pants. The scarf’s gold-accented pattern added a touch of refinement, subtly echoing the delicate gold hand chain that adorned his left hand.
The hand chain was a showstopper in its simplicity, its fine links connecting a bracelet at his wrist to a matching ring on his middle finger. It caught the light with every movement, its understated elegance harmonizing with the soft metallic glint of his nails, which shimmered in a gradient of blue hues. The entire ensemble struck a balance between casual comfort and meticulous self-expression, with his scuffed brown ankle boots grounding the look with just the right amount of rugged charm. The vibrant pink streaks in his cropped, layered hair tied the outfit together, adding an unexpected pop of energy to the overall aesthetic.
As he stepped through the doors, Valhalla’s warm, inviting ambiance washed over him. The space was perfectly balanced, a study in Starfleet’s blend of form and function. Polished wood and sleek metal reflected the soft glow of recessed lighting, while the large observation windows offered a breathtaking view of the Martian surface and the massive structures of Utopia Planitia. Crew members were scattered across the room in relaxed clusters, their easy laughter and conversation creating a soothing backdrop.
Mateo’s gaze was immediately drawn to the curved bar at the center of the room. Its polished surface gleamed under amber light, and holographic projections above it displayed an enticing array of drink options. Behind the bar, colorful bottles stood in perfect rows, their labels flickering in soft holoprojections. For the first time in days, Mateo felt the tension in his shoulders begin to loosen.
He moved toward the bar with an easy stride, his boots tapping softly against the floor. The gold hand chain on his left hand shifted slightly as he leaned casually against the counter, his brown eyes wandering across the drink menu above before signaling to the bartender.
“Beer,” he said simply, his voice warm but low, carrying a hint of his Argentine accent. “Something cold.”
Moments later, the bartender slid a glass of amber-colored beer toward him, the frothy head spilling slightly over the rim. Mateo accepted it with a faint smile, the cool glass a welcome contrast to the warmth of the room. Lifting it to his lips, he took a slow sip, letting the crisp, slightly bitter flavor wash over him. It wasn’t elaborate or fancy—just refreshingly simple, exactly what he needed.
For now, Mateo allowed himself to sink into the moment, letting the room’s energy ebb and flow around him as he savored his beer and the promise of a well-earned evening of calm.
Aria's eyes landed on Mateo when he walked in, more because the doors swished open at the same time that the music tracks changed. That second pause had allowed her to hear the doors, made her turn her head and then see the most amazing top. The sort she would love to curl up in, maybe match with some heels and a belt...yeah, belt not a scarf. No! Waist clincher, her black lace up one. She totally would.
She watched him as he walked in and went to the bar. As Riku served him, she took the chance to study the newcomer's profile. Dark hair and eyes, tattoos and piercing...wow.
Okay, he's so pretty! And the piercings! And he can dress. Oh! He's watching people. People watching, the thoughts raced through her head in two seconds and she smiled, moving to his side, or more about four feet away from him. Let's not freak him out too much, just in case my foot decides to go vacay in my mouth again.
She popped up to sit on the bar with surprising ease for someone her height and she didn't even notice the slight groan of the bartender behind her. Riku really had to get some more seating by the actual bar. "Hola!" she held her hand out, waving a little at the side of Mateo's head, to catch his attention. Not touching him, or being that close, more a chance to catch his attention. She pulled her hand back and shifted a little, her other hand holding her almost bioluminescent drink. Her legs kicked a little as she sipped her drink, looking at him. "Welcome to the halls of Odin and all that. I'm Aria."
Mateo took another slow sip of his beer, savoring the crisp bite as the room’s ambient noise hummed softly around him. The faint froth clung to his lips, and he absently swiped it away with the back of his hand. His brown eyes darted across the room, observing the ebb and flow of people in conversation. Crew members clustered together, some relaxed and laughing, others leaning in with the intensity of half-heard secrets. The energy was warm but electric—this bar was alive in a way that felt unfamiliar yet comforting.
He let his gaze wander, taking mental notes of the interactions around him. A group of engineers laughed raucously near the observation windows, their uniforms rumpled from a long day’s work. At one of the smaller tables, two science officers leaned in close, one gesturing animatedly while the other nodded, their body language practically screaming unresolved tension. By the dartboard in the corner, a pair of junior crew members exchanged half-smiles and quiet conversation, the kind of tentative connection Mateo could recognize a mile away.
For him, this was enough—a drink in hand, the quiet pulse of music in the background, and the puzzle of people to observe. The way they moved, the way they existed in these unguarded moments, was a study he never grew tired of. He liked this view from the edge of things. It was easier, safer, to take it all in without being a part of it. And yet, no matter how satisfying the act of watching, there was a faint ache he could never quite shake.
His gaze lingered on a small group of crew members laughing near the bar, their camaraderie easy and instinctive. The kind of closeness that happened when you didn’t overthink your place. Mateo didn’t know what that felt like—not fully. He hadn’t known it growing up, and he hadn’t quite managed it in Starfleet either. For all his sharp wit and carefully curated image, there was always a sliver of himself he kept just out of reach.
The shift in energy pulled his attention to the far side of the bar. Someone sat on the counter—not a stool, but the actual bar. Mateo’s gaze flicked toward her instinctively, catching the slight swing of her legs as she balanced effortlessly on the polished surface. The motion was casual, practiced even, and paired with an air of confidence that felt effortless.
She wasn’t looking at him, at least not at first. Her attention seemed focused on her bioluminescent drink, the glowing liquid swirling faintly in the low light. The drink alone was enough to catch Mateo’s eye—it looked like something out of a holonovel—but it was the woman herself who truly held his focus. Compact but athletic, with striking raven-black hair streaked with vibrant red that caught the glow of the bar’s recessed lighting, she exuded the kind of energy that made her seem taller than she was. Her sharp blue eyes scanned the room with a playful intensity, and her pale skin reflected the faint halo of light from her drink. Everything about her seemed deliberate, though not forced—like she’d come here not to fade into the crowd but to exist in it entirely on her own terms.
Mateo let his gaze linger for a moment longer before returning to his beer. People like her were rare. They walked into a room, changed its gravity, and left everyone else orbiting around them. For someone like him—comfortable in the role of observer—being caught in that orbit felt risky. Still, as much as he told himself to look away, part of him wondered what it might feel like to stand closer. To be noticed.
Movement caught at the corner of his vision, and he turned his head slightly. Her hand moved—a wave, subtle but deliberate, intended to catch his attention. Mateo blinked, his gaze following the gesture. No touch, no pressure, just enough to make it clear she was addressing him.
“Hola,” she said, her tone playful and lilting. The word landed in the space between them, carrying enough weight to pull him fully into the moment.
Mateo shifted, straightening slightly as her voice settled in his ears. His fingers tightened around the glass of his beer, and he suddenly became acutely aware of the weight of his presence in the room. Was she really waving at him? She definitely was. He resisted the instinct to glance over his shoulder just to make sure.
“Hola,” he said at last, his voice low and steady. His Argentine accent softened the edges of the word, though his tone carried a faint hesitation he couldn’t quite hide.
“Mateo,” he added after a beat, short and clipped, the name a simple offering to match the simplicity of her greeting. His lips twitched slightly into a faint curve—something that could almost be a smile.
He glanced briefly at her glowing drink, letting his focus shift to something less intimidating. “That’s some drink,” he said, the words slipping out before he could second-guess them. His gaze flicked toward the liquid, its swirling light catching faint reflections on the polished bar. “Looks like it could light the way to Valhalla.”
As the words left his mouth, he felt heat creep up his neck. Valhalla? Really? You went with that? A faint pang of self-consciousness tugged at him, and he swallowed hard, bracing himself as he turned his gaze back to her, unsure what to expect.
Aria smiled at the words, looking at her drink again before she leant closer, to lower her voice in a dramatic fashion, yet keeping it loud enough to be heard. She was an old hand of that, talking in bars. If she had heard any hesitancy in him, she didn't show it. If anything, her eyes were playful. "It'll either light the way there, or send me there," she announced before she sat back. "So....what'cha here for? I mean..." she grimaced at herself.
Great, foot, please meet mouth! Oh, you already know each other? Nice!
"I mean, obviously, you're here for drinks. Or philosophical discussion. Or just Starfleet and the Federation!" she shook her head and put her drink down. "I meant more...Hi Mateo, nice to meet you, what do you do on the ship. That's what I actually meant..." she laughed at herself, shaking her head, but it wasn't annoyance at herself. More like an 'oh well, I did say that but that's okay, no worries', sort of thing.
Mateo took another sip of his beer, slower this time, the glass cool against his palm as he let himself linger on the taste. It was a small, steadying ritual—something to fill the space while he processed her sudden shift closer. His instinct to pull back kicked in immediately—not out of rudeness or discomfort with her specifically, but to preserve that narrow buffer of personal space he always felt more comfortable with. It wasn’t a visible retreat—he kept the movement subtle, a mere shift of weight—but the urge was unmistakable.
She leaned in, her voice dropping to something just shy of conspiratorial, loud enough to carry over the room’s ambient hum but clearly meant for him. Mateo’s lips twitched faintly, the barest hint of amusement flickering across his expression. He let out a quiet exhale through his nose, a sound somewhere between a chuckle and a sigh, grounding himself in the humor of her words.
Okay, that was actually funny.
When she leaned back again, the space between them felt less charged, though the faint tension in his shoulders lingered. He wasn’t sure if it was her energy—bright, unselfconscious, and undeniably magnetic—or the fact that he wasn’t quite used to this kind of interaction. People like her always seemed to take up space effortlessly, while he was more comfortable observing from the sidelines. The contrast was equal parts fascinating and unnerving.
Her next question caught him slightly off guard. He blinked, shifting his weight slightly on his feet as his mind tried to parse the intent behind her words. There was a stumble in her delivery, a momentary falter that suggested she was second-guessing herself. It wasn’t awkward, exactly—more...human. Disarming. Mateo felt the faint pull of a smile again, though it didn’t quite reach his lips.
He let the silence stretch for a beat too long, considering his response. Something clever, maybe? A snarky remark? The words were there, floating just out of reach, but every possible phrasing felt off. Too sharp. Too flat. Too...him.
Don’t overthink it. Just...say something real for once.
“Well,” he started, his voice low but steady, the faint lilt of his Argentine accent softening the edges of the word. “I guess I’m here to decompress. It’s been a lot the past few days—getting settled, setting up my lab, meeting everyone.” He took a slow sip of his beer, gesturing faintly toward the room. “Figured I’d take a minute to breathe. And... I like to people-watch. Bars are good for that.”
The humor in his tone was soft, almost self-conscious, but as the words left his mouth, he felt a flicker of warmth rise up his neck. He wasn’t sure if it was the beer, the room, or just the weight of admitting something personal.
He shifted his weight again, his free hand brushing along the condensation on the side of his glass as he continued. “As for what I do on the ship... Medical sciences. That’s me. Setting up a lab, preparing for...” He gestured vaguely with his free hand. “Whatever comes next. It’s been...busy.”
Mateo let his words trail off, the faint hum of the bar filling the space between them. He glanced at her briefly, catching the brightness in her expression—the kind of openness he wasn’t sure how to respond to. His brow lifted slightly, almost reflexively, as he added, “And you? Besides drinks that double as potential science experiments?”
[To be continued in Part 2]
Lieutenant JG Aria Rice
Assistant Chief of Security
USS Fenrir
[PNPC - Hanlon]
&
Crewman Mateo Gardel
Medical Science Specialist
USS Fenrir
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