The officers’ lounge had taken on a quiet hush. Stars gleamed beyond the panoramic forward viewports, casting shifting lines of silver light across the room’s red carpeting and dark wood paneling. The sound of propulsion and life support systems lulled the compartment into calm. One of the souls occupying the room was Lieutenant Moon Ji-hee. She leaned back against a crescent-shaped couch that arched with the curve of the room.

She nursed a tall glass of carbonated tamarind juice, transparent material sweating slightly in her grasp as her eyes studied the celestial display. Her thoughts danced between maintenance reports, plasma injector diagnostics, and lost crewmates. Ji-hee found herself enjoying a precious moment of quiet.

That quiet did not last.

The doors slid open with a courteous chime. In walked Lieutenant Junior Grade Raii, adorned in his perfectly fitted uniform. His rich emerald skin bore the copper-emerald sheen of basking under his personal solar lamp. Thick, fluorescent orange hair was freshly styled, dyed lighter than his dark, bushy eyebrows. Hot pink, gem-like irises seemed to refract the light like twin crystals. They landed squarely on Ji-hee.

“Well, well, what a fortunate coincidence,” Raii’s voice was a textured melody. It was almost aristocratic in its enunciation. “Imagine finding the Moon shining down here instead of up in Engineering.”

Ji-hee’s lips pulled into a reluctant smirk. “That’s got to be one of the worst opening lines I’ve ever heard.”

“Yet effective,” he countered smoothly as he took a casual seat opposite her. “You laughed. I consider that a win.”

She chuckled and raised her glass. “Mildly amusing. That’s the bar?”

“Then allow me to limbo beneath it with style.” Raii leaned back with practiced ease. One arm draped behind the couch’s curved backrest. Ji-hee noticed a faint floral aroma, spicy and herbal. The scent wrapped around him like a second skin.

“I don’t think we’ve had a proper conversation,” he continued. “Lieutenant Ji-hee Moon, correct? One of the ship’s engineers, I believe.”

She gave him a half-nod. “That’s me. And you are?” She didn’t correct him on her name and held back her title as Chief Engineer.

He grinned to reveal a small, unmistakable gap between the top front teeth. “Raii. Lieutenant Junior Grade. Legal luminary and occasionally… uninvited lounge guest.”

“You’re a JAG officer?” she asked, her voice tinged with genuine curiosity.

“Oh yes,” he said as he puffed his chest with mock pride. “Protector of procedural justice, wielder of legal precedent.” He paused dramatically. “Bane of unlawful coffee requisitions. Starfleet Legal Division. To be honest, I think the brass sent me to the Brawley just to get me out of the way.”

Ji-hee raised a brow. “Now why would they do that?” Her voice carried playful teasing qualities.

He lowered his voice as if sharing a delicious secret. “Let’s just say my… shall we say, ‘improvisational courtroom style’ didn’t endear me to the flag officers. I’m a little too flamboyant for their tastes.”

“No kidding,” Ji-hee muttered as she sipped her drink with a smirk.

“But you,” Raii said as he leaned forward. His voice took on a slightly more intimate tone. “You’re not what I expected. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a Human quite like you before.”

She blinked, surprised. “Is that a line or a compliment?”

“Can’t it be both?” he replied coyly. “Truly, though… those features. Your hair. That intensity.” He looked her over, seemingly captivated. “Are you of Eastern Earth origin? Japan, perhaps?”

“Korea,” she replied amused. “Towards the North.”

Raii nodded with interest. “Fascinating history, that region. I read it was once a remnant of defiance. You remind me of that.”

Ji-hee tilted her head. “A political regime with a notorious human rights record?”

“I meant the defiance,” he said quickly as he chuckled. “The unyielding spirit.”

“Nice recovery.”

He pointed to himself. “Well.. I am trained in intergalactic diplomacy and navigation law. Recovering is my specialty.” He beamed, clearly proud of himself.

“You mentioned you were sent here to get out of the JAG Corps’ hair… but where are you from originally?”

“Kolar,” he said as his voice lowered with a thread of sincerity. “First generation born free in my line. My father and uncle served a powerful family. It’s all politics, really.”

Ji-hee whistled softly. “That sounds… intense.”

“Opulent, cruel, seductive. Matriarchs there rule with iron and velvet gloves. My mother was a courtier. My family status was kind of… Complicated. Good living, though. You’d enjoy it. Powerful women everywhere.” He gestured by placing his palms together and spreading them wide apart.

She laughed. “Sounds like my kind of place.”

Raii leaned in without missing a beat, pink eyes glinting. “You can be my matriarch anytime.”

Ji-hee burst out laughing as she clutched her drink. “Oh, you are ridiculous.”

“Thank you. I try.” Raii ran a large palm backwards through his hair.

A beat passed as Ji-hee’s expression softened slightly. “So what do you do, exactly? Besides legal comedy?”

He adjusted his collar. “I file motions. Review case law. I process regulatory infractions and help resolve territorial disputes. You name it!”

“And you’re stationed here?” she asked teasingly.

“About that. I lost a case. High-profile. Mishandled a deposition. After that they moved me to administrative work. And then—” he spread his hands, “voilà. The Brawley.”

Ji-hee smiled before adding, “Well, as long as you’re not touching Engineering systems, we’ll be fine.”

He stiffened just slightly. “Wait. What do you do in Engineering?”

“Chief Engineer”, Ji-hee said in a low, aggressive tone. “Surprised?”

“A little. You’re too…” Raii hesitated. “Charming to be the person who terrifies half the junior engineers.”

She shrugged. “You have to be hard when things fall apart. We lost someone when we got caught in that tran-planar eddy in the Underspace.”

Raii’s smile dimmed. “I heard.”

She continued, voice low. “We were caught in a… a quantum displacement vortex. We bounced across a few systems before emerging through a damaged aperture near the Morro Bay.”

He nodded solemly. “I’ve been processing some of the casualty reports. Names, next of kin notifications, cause of death certifications. It’s hard. I can joke about everything else, but that…”

Raii stopped, voice catching in a way that surprised even him.

Ji-hee leaned back and watched him carefully. “You do care.”

“I do,” he said quietly. “It just… hurts. Pretending not to helps.”

For a moment, silence returned to the lounge.

“Well,” Ji-hee said as she offered a faint smile, “If you want to distract yourself with bad jokes, you’re in the right place.”

“Oh, good,” Raii said as the glimmer returned to his eyes. “Because I still haven’t told you about the time I mistook a Tellarite prosecutor’s mother for his pet targ.”

She laughed again, louder this time. “I need another drink for that one.”

“I’ll fetch it,” he said as he rose.

“And make it tamarind again. Cold.”

“As my matriarch commands.” The mossy man took off with pep in his step. He passed the Chief Helmsman as she met with someone Lt. Moon set her up with.

The faint scent of boiled seaweed and oxidized protein paste lingered around their booth. Crismarlyn Ruiz sat upright, trying to breathe through her mouth without making it too obvious. Across from her sat her date for the evening. Ensign Trell Dirov was Bolian computer analyst, transporter system specialist, and seemingly an offender of both air quality and romantic potential.

Trell beamed at her, wide smile stretching across his cobalt blue face. Unfortunately, that smile had a very noticeable interruption. A small, waxy shard of greenish-blue Bolian kelp dumpling sat lodged between his front teeth.

“So I told the logistics officer,” Trell said in a nasally voice that was a bit too loud for the cozy lounge, “that if they didn’t realign the secondary manifest compression timing with the cargo queue prioritization index, then the replicator cache might regenerate duplicate toolkits! And do you know what she said?”

Crismarlyn blinked, tired brows lifted in forced engagement. “Uh… what?”

“She said, ‘Wow, Trell, that’s fascinating! You should log that in the systems variance log!’” He laughed in a series of short, wheezing chirps. “Can you believe it?”

“Mmm. That’s wild,” she said, swirling a glowing neon orange drink in her hand. It was a synth-variation of a Terran mango cocktail… Her second.

The smell wafted stronger. Bolian spice steamed from his meal. Whatever Trell had ordered emitted a pungent aroma like overcooked eggs and fermented seawater. It lingered aggressively in the air between them. Crismarlyn took a polite sip, eyes briefly watering.

He leaned in, elbows on the table. “You know, I wasn’t sure you’d say yes to this. Most humans are hesitant about Bolian cuisine. Too earthy, they say. But you’re so open-minded!”

“Yeah, well,” she said as she tried to smile through it. “I thought it’d be fun. You know… Dating outside the species comfort zone.”

“Exactly! Cultural fusion!” Trell thumped the table with excitement.

She winced slightly and tried to keep her gaze from lingering on his mouth. That rogue kelp crumb still clung on for dear life. Instead, she focused on his bald scalp. It reflected lounge lighting like a polished dome.

“So, Crismarlyn,” Trell shifted in his seat, adjusting the creases in his overly starched uniform. “Do you think a sub-deck transporter buffer should be set to phased cyclic output during hull degaussing cycles?”

Crismarlyn blinked. He waited.

“I think,” she began slowly as she pondered her next words. “I’m off duty and don’t wanna talk about degaussing.”

“Oh!” he chuckled again. “Good one! You’re so refreshingly direct.”

“Yeah.” Her smile felt tight as her cheeks pulled taut. “So, um… What do you do for fun, Trell?”

“Oh! So glad you asked.” His face lit up. A small bead of moisture formed at his temple. “I’m a member of the ship’s mathematical harmonics club. We meet every fifth day-cycle. I also dabble in Bolian fiber arts. Did you know we invented three-dimensional weaving? You’ve never truly felt comfort until you’ve laid on a Bolian tetra-weave blanket. It conforms to spinal micro-curves!”

Crismarlyn took a long sip of her drink.

“Wow,” she said flatly. “That’s… textural.”

“And,” he continued with growing enthusiasm, “I’ve been learning human poetry! Would you like to hear one? It’s haiku!”

“Maybe la—”

“I’m like a space cloud / drifting near your warp-swept heart / Blue meets starlight flame.”

Crismarlyn stared. Trell beamed, clearly waiting for applause.

She swallowed hard. “That was creative.”

“I wrote it last night after checking our compatibility on the Brawley’s interdepartmental metrics board! You scored in the ninety-second percentile for emotional resonance and instinctual response!”

“…You ran my what?”

“Just the public stuff!” Trell added hastily.

“Cool. Great.” Cris released a strained breath and shifted in her seat.

“Tell me about Earth!” Trell said suddenly, eyes wide. “What’s your ocean like? I hear it doesn’t smell like our seas.”

Crismarlyn nodded. It might be a bit different. We go to the coastlines to relax. At the beach humans get away from it all while usually connecting with others doing the same thing.”

He seemed to miss her tone entirely. “One day, I want to swim in it! Just thinking about it gives me full-thorax tingles.”

“Cool,” she said, stabbing a bite of her own food. Enchiladas were simple, safe and replicated. Ensign Ruiz chewed slowly.

Trell leaned in again. “Have you ever tried Bolian sauna yoga? It’s very intimate.”

She blinked. “Like, sweaty stretching with strangers?”

“Exactly!” he said with a gleam in his eyes. “It promotes bonding!”

“Hmm.”

An awkward silence descended.

“So.” Cris was desperate to shift gears. “Do you, uh, listen to music?”

“Oh. I prefer subharmonic tonal vibrations. They’re very big on Bolarus IX. Most humans find them unsettling. I find them cathartic. Here, I have a sample.”

“No, no, I’m good!” she said quickly.

He smiled again. That same kelp piece still taunting her from his maw.

She couldn’t take it anymore. “Trell?”

“Yes?”

“You, uh…” She gestured vaguely at her own mouth.

He frowned in confusion, then reached for his chin. “Do I have a blemish?”

“No. Teeth.”

He pulled out a polished microspoon from his pocket and peered into the back, examining himself in the reflection. With a dramatic “aha,” he reached up and plucked the kelp shard free. “That’s not from tonight,” he said with pride. “That’s from my lunch!” He dropped it onto a napkin.

Crismarlyn grimaced. “That’s…so sanitary.”

He laughed again. “You’re so funny, Crismarlyn. No wonder your file said you were charming!”

She froze. “My file?”

“Open metrics again! Just the surface ones!”

“I need another drink,” she muttered as she stood.

“Would you like me to replicate you one? I’ve studied human bartending rituals. I even learned that trick where you shake the drink like this..” He pantomimed a rigid, jerky martini shake that looked more like a seizure.

“No. Noooo.” She raised both palms. “No thanks.”

He stood a little too fast alongside her. “This has been the best night I’ve had in six quarters. I think we have real synergy. Maybe we could do something physical next time. Maybe zero-g racquetball! Or, ooh! Bolian sauna yoga?”

She patted him lightly on the shoulder. “Let’s not plan too far ahead.”

He smiled obliviously. “I’ll message you! I already set a reminder!”

“Awesome.”

She turned toward the lounge doors. He followed two steps behind.

As they walked out, she muttered under her breath, “That’s the last time I let Moon talk me into alien dating roulette.”

Behind her, Trell chirped excitedly, “Did you say something?”

“Just…thinking about your haiku.”

“Oh! I have six more!”

Of course you do, she thought. She cast an aggressive side-eyed glance towards Lieutenant Moon as they walked past. Ji-hee was too busy laughing at the Orion’s latest quip to notice her, expression smitten.