Ten-Hut is located along the port side of Deck Ten. It was deliberately located where officers from nearly every department cross paths on a busy deck. Red carpet stretches between the lounge’s champagne-colored walls. Spartan chairs and tables of golden alloys reflect warm lighting. Firm cushions of synthetic brown leather pad each seat. Broad observation windows frame dynamic views of the Expanse. Celestial bodies of the Shackleton Pinwheel spiral far in the distance.

A massive mural of the Starfleet insignia dominates the long rear wall. The circular shield framed by a wreath serves as a constant reminder of duty. An illuminated bar countertop is carved into the starboard side. Klowahkan chef Zawtay Bastek can be found among the bartenders here. His intergalactic menu is crafted from freshly sourced ingredients. Many dishes center around Human or Bajoran cuisine. Specials featured unique choices from around the Federation and beyond.

The lounge felt more full than usual. Crowd numbers were not necessarily much higher. There was just an excited energy that seemed to bounce off the room. Uniformed officers lingered as they chatted at tables. Others stood and stared out at their surroundings in a place where many had never been. Conversations and laughter seemed to stretch endlessly. No one seemed in a hurry to retreat back into the hectic corridors of duty. Months of tension bled slowly out of achy shoulders and rejuvenated voices. Everything felt warmer than regulation here, including the lighting. Ten Hut was built with the understanding that the Cardinal’s crew needed a pause every now and again.

Lt. Cmdr. Moon Ji-hee leaned back in her chair, one boot hooked lazily around the rung. She cradled a glass of amber synthahol between both hands. Her dark eyes drifted toward the windows where the Shackleton Pinwheel turned with deceptive calm. “I still can’t believe we’re out here,” she said excitedly. “All those months spent running along the Breen border, and now, this.” She gestured toward the stars outside. “This feels like a major shakeup of locales. We all knew what to expect back out there. But the Expanse?”

Her cousin, Ensign Kim Jung-soo, followed her gaze. The tactical officer had a habit of sitting a little too rigid in formality. She always seemed a little more relaxed around Ji-hee. “It’s quiet here, except for the eddies,” she said. “That almost makes it worse. At least on the border you knew the danger was on the other side. Out here, anything can happen.”

Across the table, Lieutenant Commander T’Naagi smiled faintly as she stirred the contents of her bowl. An illuminated bowl packed with glowing Akaru noodles reflected pale turquoise light off the chief science officer’s almond-shaped eyes. “The Shackleton Expanse hides its chaos well. A lot of these spatial disturbances have cleared up around much of the Expanse”, she said. “The Akaru believe the eddies here might be tied to relics dating before the Shroud era set in long ago. One of these relics might be where the Klingons set up shop on Khamor IV. I can’t wait to get down there to have a look.”

Ji-hee grimaced. “You’re really selling this vacation.”

T’Naagi chuckled. “It’s fascinating to me. Don’t you love adventure?” The Orion glanced out the windows as excitement bled into her voice. “The Theta-Khamor system is extraordinary. Two habitable worlds are locked in a slow orbital dance that threads through a jagged asteroid belt. The belt is so dense that it’s basically like two or three resource moons. There are dilithium traces, other rare metals and useful volatile chemicals. It’s no wonder the Klingons and Romulans are circling each other like targ over fresh meat. Even the Cardinal is planning to sail through to top off our Bussard collectors.”

“That’s what worries me,” Jung-Soo said. “Everyone sees opportunity. No one wants to blink first.”

Doctor Binedra Dowa leaned forward as she rested her pointy, azure elbows on the table. The Bolian’s electric-blue scalp gleamed softly under the lounge lights. “The Klingons and Romulans just want Starfleet to stand in the middle and smile politely while holding the table steady for their resource meal.”

“That’s diplomacy,” Ji-hee said dryly. “Isn’t it?”

“Diplomacy is not that simple”, Binedra added. “Both sides could quickly tire of our presence.”

At the far end of the table, Ensign Trell Dirov was on his second bowl of neon noodles. The table’s other Bolian stuck the elongated prong wrapped with noodles into his mouth and chewed before speaking. “I just don’t want to be the one who accidentally crashes the negotiations because a translation matrix hiccupped,” he said between bites. “Romulan syntax already hates me. Klingon syntax actively wants me dead”, the computer specialist huffed.

Jung-soo snorted. “Sounds comforting.” Ensign Kim enjoyed hanging out with her chief engineer cousin and her high ranking friends. She had fun bringing the other ensigns around them. It made her feel influential.

Ensign Kian Harol stood near the windows. In his hand was a cup of Trill soup broth. He couldn’t help but to overhear the conversation. The Trill’s movements were restless but not anxious. He shifted on his feet as he tried to find a way into the talk. “At least all sides agree that this system matters,” the young operations officer said. “That’s a starting point for everyone to work together.”

Ji-hee studied him for a moment. “Hey Kian! You seem like you’re doing well,” she said quietly.

Kian smiled, somewhat surprised but appreciative. “I feel clearer,” he admitted. “The fog from the Jovian Flu finally lifted. Therapy helped me process certain losses.” He didn’t want to mention the loss of his friend during the Vaadwaur attack once again. “Time off helped. And honestly?” He glanced around Ten-Hut. “So did time spent in places like this. It’s feels nice being around people again.”

Binedra reached over and squeezed his forearm. “Your nervous system just needed a reminder that joy is allowed.”

He nodded. “Talaen would have felt that way.” His voice softened. “She’d be furious if I skipped glowing noodles just because the universe decided to be cruel.”

The mention of her name settled gently over the table, not heavy with grief but threaded with respect. Jung-soo raised her glass. “To Talaen,” she said simply.

Glasses lifted. Trell bowed his head and clinked his noodle prong against the bowl.

The low hum of conversation throughout the lounge shifted as a new sound threaded its way in. The warm sound of fingers on strings created a ripple of sound that filled the wide space.

Near the bar, an Akaru musician adjusted a compact strum against his knee. The instrument’s crystals glowed faintly as he tested a chord. A large crystal was set up in the corner like an amplifier. A flurry of notes bloomed outward and sunk into the room. The effect was immediate. Conversations softened. Chairs angled subtly toward the sound.

Ji-hee grinned. “Well. There goes any hope of a quiet evening.”

The musician began to play in earnest, weaving layered tones that rolled through Ten-Hut like a held breath finally released. The notes weren’t loud, but carried a richness that vibrated through furniture and bone alike.

Lieutenant Commander M’kath stood rigid near the bar, arms crossed over his chest. The mahogany-skinned Klingon glowered at the musician as if daring the sound to challenge him. His long sandy ponytail hung straight down his back.

Jung-soo followed Ji-hee’s gaze and smirked. “How long until he explodes?” She had not seen M’kath’s incident at the Sonic Tribute Festival.

“Or dances,” Ji-hee said. She had seen a crowd surround the Klingon and chide him until he danced.

“That man does not dance,” Jung-soo muttered.

T’Naagi’s eyes flicked between Jung-soo and M’kath. “Music interacts interestingly with Klingon neurology,” she said mildly. “Certain rhythmic patterns stimulate a substantial dopamine release. M’kath has been exposed to good music recently. He might start looking for more.”

Ji-hee’s eyes widened. “Oh. Oh no.”

M’kath exhaled heavily, uncrossed his arms, and took one deliberate step away from the bar. He began stiff movements of shoulder shrugs and twisting hips. He lifted his arms with the solemnity of a warrior preparing for combat as he shiftd his body into different angles… His right leg then lifted into a series of little kicks.

Lt. Cmdr. M’kath danced.

It wasn’t graceful, nor was it subtle. His movement was rigid and forceful, yet entirely sincere. The Akaru musician’s tempo adjusted instinctively. His melody twisted into a heavier cadence. Laughter broke out across Ten-Hut, warm and delighted rather than mocking.

M’kath took it in stride as he clapped his hands. “Join me”, the surly chief tactical officer howled to those around him. “Celebrate life.”

Kian laughed hardest of all, eyes bright. He got up and joined the Klingon, as did others.

For a moment, the looming weight of the Theta-Khamor negotiations eased. The eddies of the Expanse spun quietly outside the windows. Among the glowing noodles and musical fanfare served up at Ten-Hut, the crew of the USS Cardinal remembered how to breathe and enjoy the moment.