Lab Rats & Leathernecks, Part 1
Posted on Tue Feb 11th, 2025 @ 7:32pm by Crewman Mateo Gardel & Petty Officer 1st Class Leon Inaros
Edited on on Sat Feb 15th, 2025 @ 11:01pm
1,645 words; about a 8 minute read
Mission:
To Boldly Go
Location: Medical Sciences Lab, Deck 7, USS Fenrir
Timeline: Day 12
[ON]
Nurse Leon Inaros frowned as he pushed the crate with samples from sickbay. They had been beamed over to sickbay, a collection of samples of various viruses and so on, dormant, for research. Most ships had a small collection, this allowed the scientists to work towards potential cures. They weren’t the deadly ones…no, those were reserved for more stable environments. Even Leon knew that and he hadn’t been a Starfleet nurse for long. No. Leon’s career had been different as a Marine medic. Hands on, in the thick of the action, expected to carry a phaser rifle in one hand and a medical kit in the other. Used to getting dirty, bloody. Used to the tense situations of combat.
Until an accident had taken his leg with him and he’d been given a biomechanical one that he…wasn’t gelling with. So he had never returned to the Marines. Instead, he had been offered the regular Fleet. He couldn’t have faced going to the Academy, to spend minimum of four years with a bunch of…children. And he hadn’t fancied becoming an Officer.
However, being enlisted and a nurse meant you got sent to do the heavy lifting. This included the crate of samples. Luckily the Medical Laboratories weren’t far away. He had gotten instruction to deliver it to lab 1, as it had someone permanently assigned there. Most likely some sort of bright young thing with ambitions to save the universe. There were always some of those in the Fleet. Leon sighed and stopped for a moment, shifting his weight a little, before turning the corner with the crate floating in front of him. Good these, these anti-grav trolleys. Made life easier. He spotted the lab and the doors opened for him as he pushed the crate inside.
Mateo Gardel stood over one of the meticulously arranged workstations in his lab, brow furrowed as he adjusted the settings on a piece of analysis equipment. The soft hum of the centrifuge nearby provided a soothing background to his otherwise bubbling irritation. Every surface gleamed under the bright lights, tools and equipment arranged with surgical precision. The faint citrus and mint scent of his preferred hypoallergenic cleaning solution lingered in the air, a signature touch of the space he considered his own.
And yet, despite all this order, there had been one glaring absence for the past two days: the shipment of dormant viral samples he had specifically ordered. After chasing dead ends through supply chains and inventory logs, he’d been about ready to replicate a punching bag just to blow off steam.
The soft hiss of the lab doors opening pulled his attention away from the display in front of him. Mateo turned, his sharp brown eyes narrowing as a crate glided in on an anti-grav trolley, escorted by a man he hadn’t seen before.
Finally.
Mateo crossed his arms, absently tapping a tattooed finger against his bicep as he studied the newcomer. The man was older, lean, and carried a no-nonsense air that didn’t quite match the polished medical personnel Mateo was used to dealing with. He looked more like someone who’d be at home field-stripping a phaser rifle than pushing around medical supplies.
“Let me guess,” Mateo drawled as he stepped forward, his Rioplatense Spanish accent adding a lilting edge to his sarcasm. “You’re the courier for Starfleet’s version of lost and found?”
He crouched slightly, scanning the crate’s markings. The confirmation of its contents sent a flicker of relief through him, though he masked it by exhaling sharply through his nose and brushing a hand across his sleeve. Straightening, he gave a faint, sardonic smile.
“I’ve been tracking this for two days,” he added. “Should I send a gift basket to logistics, or is there a secret handshake I’ve been left out of?”
He gestured toward a cleared station near the wall. “Set it down there. Carefully. This lab has a strict ‘you break it, you replicate it’ policy.”
Mateo’s gaze lingered on the older man as the crate came to rest. There was something about him—calm, unhurried, yet undeniably no-nonsense. He didn’t have the usual polish of a med tech but instead carried an edge, like someone who’d seen far worse than a misplaced shipment.
“So,” Mateo said, tilting his head slightly, his voice softening but still carrying an edge of wit, “are you here cleaning up someone else’s mess, or should I thank you for finally being competent?”
Mouthy git, the thought was the first one that came to Leon when he heard Mateo speak. He had unloaded the crate carefully and he straightened, watching him. He was young. And the posture could have been better, but there was an elegance to it. He looked like trouble, if it hadn't been for the soulful eyes. Even if there was a coldness...no, not coldness. A barrier. It was strange, seeing that in the regular Fleet.
Usually, Marines are the jaded ones, not...scientists, he thought for a moment. He gave him a small smile, some of his humour breaking through. "This crate has been on more ships in the last few days than we've had hot meals in that time, I am amazed it didn't go to Vulcan before arriving on this ship," he said and took a PADD, offering it over. He had signed for it, yet he wanted this crewman to also have his name to it. "So don't thank me. I was just the first available nurse around to take it from sickbay here."
Mateo’s lips twitched at the “more ships than hot meals” remark, though whether it was amusement or skepticism was anyone’s guess. His gaze flicked down to the proffered PADD, fingers hesitating just a fraction of a second before he took it. A formality, then. Fine.
He scrawled his authorization with practiced efficiency, the smooth motion of his stylus precise and deliberate. “Ah, so you’re just an innocent bystander in this great logistical disaster,” he mused, dry but not unkind. “Noted.”
He handed the PADD back and finally gave the man a proper look, though not because he expected to remember him. Most of the medical staff had already passed through Sickbay or his lab at some point—names, faces, voices blending together into a blur of routine interactions he didn’t care to retain. The only one he’d committed to memory was Doctor Nyx, and that was purely out of professional necessity.
This guy? Unfamiliar. But not in a way Mateo could immediately dismiss.
“You don’t look like someone I’ve seen in Sickbay,” Mateo said, arms folding loosely over his chest. His tone wasn’t unfriendly, but it carried the weight of an observation, a test, a curiosity left hanging in the air to see what would be done with it.
Mateo studied him for a moment, gaze flicking from the division insignia to his face before offering,
“Mateo Gardel. Medical Science Specialist.”
A beat.
Then, with a smirk: “Resident lab gremlin. Logistical victim. General menace. Depends on who you ask.”
His mouth quirked into something that wasn’t quite a smirk but wasn’t entirely serious, either.
“And you?”
Leon shifted a little, knowing he was being given the once-over look. Rank...not too low for his age, could be higher. Appearance...well, the grey in his hair suddenly felt like too much when he stood in front of someone half his age. The way he introduced himself was...well, colourful. Vibrant event.
I feel ancient.
"Nurse Leon Inaros," he said, deciding to leave rank out of it. Doctors didn't give their ranks, so why should he. When he had been a Sergeant, rank had mattered to him. He had worked hard for it. Now? Well, he had barely worked for it. So it wasn't precious to him, more like something handed to him. "I was most likely...going over supplies or cleaning down biobeds. Nothing...remarkable." Since he had so far had a little bit of a rocky start with his Chief, he had kept his head down and stayed out of the way.
Mateo blinked once, then twice, as if processing the way Leon introduced himself so... minimally.
“Nurse Leon Inaros,” he repeated, slowly, like he was tasting the words and finding them suspiciously plain.
A pause.
“That’s it? Just ‘Nurse Leon Inaros?’ No rank, no flourish, no tragic backstory about how you were raised by wolves and clawed your way into the Fleet?” His brow lifted, tone dry but not unkind. “You realize I just called myself a lab gremlin, and you’re out here giving ‘functional Starfleet employee’ energy, right?”
His gaze flicked over the man again, noticing the way Leon shifted ever so slightly. The grey in his hair, the slight weariness in his stance. Older, but not fragile. Not slow. There was something about him that felt contained, like someone who had learned how to shrink himself to fit in a place that didn’t entirely belong to him.
Mateo tilted his head. “I’m gonna go out on a limb here and guess you didn’t start out in Sickbay.”
His arms folded loosely, fingers tapping against his bicep in an absent, thoughtful rhythm. “Or maybe you did and just really love scrubbing biobeds. We all need a hobby.”
The last part was said with a faint smirk, but his eyes flickered with something closer to curiosity than outright amusement.
[To be continued in Part 2]
Crewman Mateo Gardel
Medical Science Specialist
USS Fenrir
&
Petty Officer 1st Class Leon Inaros
Nurse
USS Fenrir
[PNPC - Hanlon]
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