The officers’ lounge on the USS Brawley was quiet, but never silent. This ship is small enough for everyone to know each other’s routines, but large enough to find solitude. The space was wrapped in bright blue metallic walls, curved with soft bevels that gave the room a cocooned feeling. Stark white overhead lighting created a crisp contrast with the warm, shifting glow of the stars and galactic particles drifting just outside the room’s massive viewports. Just outside was a clear, breathtaking look at a red-orange-green nebula curling around the upper arc of Vaabanth IV. Dust trails shimmered, reflecting rays of interstellar light towards the starship.

Lieutenant Binedra Dowa sipped a spoonful of mint-green broth with a satisfied hum. Bright purple lipshade starkly contrasted against her cobalt skin. She set the angular spoon into the bowl with a gentle clink. Her delicate blue hand reached for a small mug of Bajoran tea freshly brewed by lounge staff.

Lieutenant Ikastrul Zaa sat across from her with a plate of roasted roots and a small side of fruit. Her sandy brown hair was tied up in high, soft spirals that caught the room’s light like waves. She chewed thoughtfully, pale olive skin catching a faint reflection of the nebula’s crimson-amber streaks outside. They were tucked into a booth built beneath the lower curve of the window arch. This gave them a wide view of the lounge and a shielded place to chat.

A pair of engineers sitting a few tables over were caught mid-debate. They argued whether warp conduit materials from Tellarite factories lasted longer than those from Andoria. Behind them, Communications tasked Ops officers laughed at a replayed audio snippet from a recent Klingon transmission. A female KDF pilot had become known for shouting bickering, somewhat offensive orders to the pilots who flew alongside her. Her aggressive tone was transmitted hilariously garbled to their non-native ears.

Ensign Kian Harol sat alone with his synthale nearby. His lean Bajoran frame slouched just enough to suggest his drink wasn’t purely for flavor or sport. His presence was solitary but not isolated. He was close enough to overhear, or maybe chime in to others. Six days had passed since Ensign Rho was lost during the unexpected Vaadwaur skirmish. Kian hadn’t said much about it. His absence from post-shift gatherings had spoken plenty.

Something caught the Chief Medical Officer’s eye as she sipped another spoonful. “Well now,” Binedra said as she tilted her head. “That’s a look I haven’t seen Cris wear before.”

Ikastrul glanced, chewing quietly before her eyes widened slightly. “Is that… Ensign Ruiz in a dress?”

“Mmhmm,” Binedra murmured, savoring the syllables. “And with more lipshade than me tonight. That takes commitment.”

They both watched discreetly. Chief Flight Officer Crismarlyn Ruiz sat across from a science officer neither of them recognized. He was tall and dark, with a shaggy crop of hair and boyish look that gave him an unintentional charm. He leaned forward as he spoke, gesturing with his fingers and smiling widely. Ruiz was glowing as she laughed just a little too hard at the guy’s simple jokes.

“She’s either suddenly into amateur stand-up,” Binedra mused, “or he’s got something going for him.”

Ikastrul watched longer than her friend. “They find happiness in each other,” she added softly. “A kind of emotional resonance. It’s… sweet.” She smiled, lost in her telepathic sensations. “He’s more innocent than she is.”

That was the cue Binedra had been waiting for. “And speaking of ‘interpersonal resonance,’ what about you? Don’t think I haven’t noticed that little glow of yours lately.”

Ikastrul blinked and immediately took a bite of her food, chewing slowly as if that would stall the question.

“Oh no, don’t start pretending you’re shy now,” Binedra prodded as she leaned forward with a wicked grin. “You’re the one always waxing about emotional compatibility and soul vibrations.”

“That’s different,” Ikastrul said quickly. “That’s… professional interest.”

“Oh?” Binedra smirked, unconvinced. “You’ve told me what you like before. Soft-spoken… emotionally open. A man who knows how to brew tea. Why the sudden change?”

Ikastrul set her fork down. “It’s not like that.”

“I may not be telepathic,” Binedra said as she sat back into the seat’s cushion. “I can tell you like somebody, though.”

Ikastrul sighed and looked out of the viewport. Her black irises lingered on the swirls of cosmic color beyond the glass.

“Maybe I’m just distracted,” Counselor Zaa said in a quieter voice. “With everything the Vaadwaur have done. It’s been… difficult.” Her gaze drifted to the side as she spoke. Her hand grazed her tea cup but didn’t lift it. A flicker of anxiety pulled at the corners of her mouth.

Binedra nodded as she looked deep into Ikastrul’s stare. “Well. I’ll keep my eye on you anyway.”

Ikastrul seized the moment and turned the tables. “So who do you like, Doctor?”

Binedra sputtered slightly, before chuckling. “Oh no… Don’t you dare pull that on me.”

“I’m just asking a question.” Ikastrul protested.

“You know you’re browsing,” Binedra said with mock suspicion. “Anyway, I’ve been a little distracted myself. All these field injuries and surprise ambushes tend to take priority over my love life.”

Ikastrul raised an eyebrow knowingly. “Mm-hmm.”

Just then, Ensign Harol stirred. A male human and female Tellarite in matching operations gold entered the lounge and paused near his table. He looked up to them. After a few seconds of quiet deliberation, Kian nodded. They sat beside him without a word, each taking a sip of their drinks. As they stared into the nebula together, something in his shoulders eased.

Binedra noticed. “Good,” she murmured. “He’s been alone too much.”

Ikastrul nodded. But her attention shifted suddenly as the doors hissed open.

Commander Marlon Smythe stepped in, tall frame catching her eyes. His close-cropped fade, square jaw and dark caramel skin reflected the glow of the nebula’s contours. He scanned the room once before heading for the replicator.

Ikastrul turned, facing away to train her eyes on her plate. Racing thoughts darted for cover as quickly as her gaze had.

Binedra didn’t seem to notice. “Pass the root sauce?”

Ikastrul handed it over silently. She didn’t glance toward Smythe again. Her mind remained carefully, excruciatingly still. It reminded her of the first time she sensed Commander Smythe trying to shield his thoughts from her. Now, she was doing the same thing.

Counselor Zaa breathed a deep sigh of relief, feeling VERY grateful that Binedra wasn’t a Betazoid.