Making The Most Of Their Time

Posted on Mon Oct 13th, 2025 @ 6:56pm by Lieutenant Amarok tr'Ragnar
Edited on on Mon Oct 13th, 2025 @ 6:57pm

Mission: Port of Call
Location: Pathfinder Station, Promenade then Guest quarters
Timeline: Mission Day 6 at 1000

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Two days later, Amarok tr’Ragnar wandered the promenade, enjoying his time off duty. With so many shops and curiosities, he developed shopper’s indecision at nearly every one. Lost in the abundance, he completely forgot about his date with Hannok Solomon—fortunately arranged to take place on the promenade itself.

He never had to search for the dashing freighter captain; Hannok always found him, and always on time. Amarok was paying for a dark-green asymmetrical suit jacket with blue trim when a pair of strong arms folded across his chest. The shopkeeper smiled politely as they handed over the neatly bagged purchase and wished him well.

“Hello, Mar.” The deep, rich voice brushed his ear, warm with breath and mischief. Hannok guided him out of the shop and into the crowd, still holding him. “How have you been?”

“Very good, Han—and you?”

“Better now that I have you,” the Trill said with a pirate captain’s chuckle.

Amarok laughed. “Yes, yes, you found me—as always. Now, may I walk on my own?”

“Of course.” Hannok loosened his hold just enough, then promptly slipped an arm around Amarok’s waist again. “That’s better.”

“What did you plan for today?” Amarok asked, shifting his bags to the other hand.

“You’ll see.” The promise of chaos laced every word.

Amarok sighed but smiled; with Hannok, fun was inevitable. They had gone atmospheric-jumping, surfing, amusement park rides and finally several sports on holodecks, and just as often spent quiet hours on simulated beaches swimming, picnics or in spas. He had long since learned to expect the unexpected.

“What did you buy?” Hannok asked as they walked.

“A new suit. Some earrings.” He paused, glancing into the bags. “A few oils.”

He caught Hannok’s reaction in his periphery—the Trill’s sharp intake of breath—and grinned.

“Oh, I’d love to see you in that suit,” Hannok replied smoothly, recovering his composure.

Amarok knew that tone. The freighter captain would accelerate whatever surprise he’d planned; it was only a matter of time before the “Unstable Unicorn” struck again.

They ended up in one of the station’s high-class restaurants, a private table and steward reserved for them alone. Amarok was impressed; the place was fully booked weeks ahead. By the time they sat, his hybrid metabolism left him starving. He ordered a full course; surprisingly, so did Hannok. They'd both need the energy fuel for what was to come.

Garlic breads with cheese arrived first. Amarok smirked. “So—how long will your runs be?”

“Two weeks, maybe three,” Hannok said between bites. “Depends on pickup location. This bread, though—superb.”

“They are,” Amarok agreed, moaning softly at the taste. “Two to three weeks… I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too, Mar. But my end destination is here—hopefully your ship will be docked.”

When Hannok reached for the last piece of bread, Amarok caught his hand, fingers weaving with his. “Tell me when you’re close to Pathfinder, and I’ll see where I am.”

“Of course,” Hannok said, squeezing his hand before reclaiming the bread.

Salads followed. Amarok noticed Hannok watching the way he ate. “Would you like some?” he asked, pinching a bit of salad mix and holding it out. Hannok leaned forward, mouth parting to accept the offer, his pupils dilating. Amarok withdrew his fingers slowly.

“Well,” he murmured, “we haven’t done this in some time.”

Hannok swallowed, licking his lips. “No—and I’m glad you brought it back.”

Until dessert, they ate and shared each dish by hand. Ice cream, alas, required spoons. When the bowls were empty, Hannok paid quickly, took Amarok’s hand, and all but dragged him out. Amarok just managed to snatch his bags before they left.

Back in his quarters, Hannok had him on the bed within minutes. The night filled with pleasure. Later, Amarok lay awake at the same hour he had during Rafe’s visit, watching Hannok sleep. People said a person’s true face showed in sleep; he had found both his lovers’ faces beautiful, unguarded. Perhaps that old belief came from Nimbus III, where trust was rare. A human woman there had once told him the same—and he had helped her with a few things in gratitude.

He brushed a few strands of hair from Hannok’s brow, tracing the spots down to rest his hand over the Trill’s slow, steady heart beating. The rhythm soothed him. As he closed his eyes, Amarok felt those heartbeats carry him gently into sleep.

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