The lounge was quiet in the hum of the morning. There was only the occasional clink of glassware in the background. Raii strode in through the wide double doors with a confident bounce in his step. He was alone this morning, complexion glowing faintly from a recent ultraviolet session. His eyes scanned the lounge, still waking from the night cycle. A few officers sipped beverages in silence. Most conversation was kept to whispers.

Raii approached the replicator with the air of someone about to make art. “Computer,” he began happily. “Orion breakfast, coastal style. Include spiced brinjas, twin halthar rolls, one portion of roasted kolari root, and a cup of chilled hyra-leaf tea.”

The meal shimmered into existence on the tray. It was steaming, vibrant, and rich in color. Spiced brinjas were delicately wrapped in leaf-thin bread. A musky, floral aroma wafted from them. Halthar rolls glistened with golden syrup. Raii smiled with satisfaction and turned as he scanned for a place to sit.

That’s when he saw him.

Seated alone at a side table was Ensign Trell Dirov, the Bolian who he’d noticed enduring a rather unfortunate first date the previous evening. He was halfway through a plate of blueroot mash and a stack of what looked like fermented algae discs. Even from across the room, Raii’s sharp nose caught the tangy scent.

Trell looked up just in time to catch Raii’s gaze.

Trell seemed cheerfully surprised. “Good morning!”

Raii approached with a nod and the soft click of his boots. “Mind if I join you, Ensign?”

“Not at all!” Trell gestured eagerly to the seat across from him. “Please. I am always happy for company at breakfast.”

Raii set his tray down gently and eased into the chair. “Though I may need a filter for that dish of yours. You Bolians never hold back on the olfactory front.”

Trell laughed and tapped his plate with pride. “It is a traditional breakfast from my home district. Very bold. Quite rich in postbiotic enzymes. It promotes memory retention and colon equilibrium.”

“That’s quite a meal,” Raii remarked before sipping his tea.

That earned a chuckle from Trell. “Well, not exactly, but… Did you happen to see me here last night? I was on a date.”

Raii raised a bushy orange brow, spoon poised over his kolari root. “Ah yes. Ensign Ruiz. Crismarlyn. Lovely officer. It looked like she was surviving a plasma fire.”

Trell winced. “That bad?”

Raii tilted his head. “She didn’t quite exactly run. But she may have engaged emergency warp after dessert.”

Trell gave a weary smile. “Yeah. She excused herself before we could take that post-meal walk on the observation deck. She had to check a coolant leak in the Environmental Controls.”

Raii rested his elbow on the table and peered at him over his tea. “Did she?”

“Doubt it,” Trell admitted as he scratched his smooth blue scalp.

There was a long moment where the two simply ate. Raii said gently, “Tell me. What did you eat on the date?”

Trell brightened. “Oh! An old favorite. Kelp dumplings with trir glaze and fermented eggweed discs.”

Raii’s jaw tightened with effort. “You ate seaweed-and-brine fusion in front of a human… on a date?”

Trell paused and blinked. “Was that bad?”

Raii set his spoon down delicately. “You, my dear Ensign Dirov, might as well have eaten mop water and gym sock soup in front of her.”

Trell’s shoulders slumped. “Oh.”

Raii’s voice softened. “I say this with affection. You may want to, um”, he paused. “Diversify your culinary overtures. Food is not just nutrition. It’s about mood. Culture. Subtext.”

Trell leaned forward eagerly. “Could you help me? I mean, since you’re familiar with cross-species courting.”

Raii smiled as his eyes glinted. “You’re in luck. I was practically raised among seduction and ceremony. My great-aunt was an Orion matchmaker. She arranged over three hundred bonds before she passed on.”

Trell’s eyes widened with hope. “Really?”

“Oh yes,” Raii said, not mentioning that many of those marriages were forced. “On Kolar, we’re taught early that romance is art. It isn’t just pheromones and flattery. It’s about patience. Presentation. A well-timed silence can be more powerful than a poem.”

Trell took out a PADD and started tapping notes. Cobalt fingers flew. “Go on.”

Raii sipped his tea and savored the moment. “First: pace. Starfleet officers don’t rush into intimacy. Give them space to approach you on their terms. Think of it as star navigation. You don’t leap into a sun’s gravity well, you spiral gently and map out its orbit.”

Trell nodded eagerly. “Spiral gently. Right.”

“Second,” Raii continued, “presentation. If you know your food smells like decomposing coral, replicate something safe instead. Terran toast. Vulcan tea. Send the message: I respect your nose.”

Trell tapped frantically. “Respect her nose. Got it.”

“Third,” Raii said before posing dramatically. “Don’t mistake politeness for interest. If she smiles, it could be kindness. If she lingers, it might be curiosity. But if she physically moves closer, mirrors your posture, or makes soft contact? That’s the cue. Only then do you escalate.”

Trell’s PADD clicked with another note. “Wait for cues. Proximity equals permission.”

“You do learn quickly,” Raii said with a hint of pride.

“I really want to get it right,” Trell admitted. “Crismarlyn was… sharp. Smart. She didn’t even flinch when I quoted a haiku.”

“Wait, you read a haiku?”

“I wrote it myself,” Trell said as he puffed his chest. “It was about emotions and nebulae.”

Raii pressed a palm to his face. “Poetry after a kelp dumpling assault? You’re lucky she didn’t file a distress beacon.”

Trell chuckled and rubbed his neck. “Maybe I did come on too strong. Hmm.”

“You think?” Raii leaned back and took a forkful of brinja. He chewed as he spoke. “Let me ask you this. What did you like about her?”

Trell’s expression softened. “She was real. No pretense. She looked at me like she was figuring out if I was worth her time. That honesty was kind of thrilling.”

Raii nodded, genuinely impressed. “Good. Then don’t pursue to conquer. Pursue to understand.”

Trell blinked. “That’s beautiful. Did you come up with that?”

“No,” Raii said with a sly grin. “That’s from Brythari Orr, Orion philosopher and court chronicler. She once wrote ‘Desire is not to possess, but to perceive. And to be seen without flinching.’”

Trell repeated it softly, typing it into his PADD. “That’s just, umm. wow.”

“I know,” Raii said, a little too pleased. “It hung on my bedroom wall at the Academy.”

Trell glanced up. “So how did your date go? Last night, I mean. You and Chief Engineer Moon?”

Raii’s fork froze midair. “Let’s just say that I opened with a sparkle and flamed out like a dying star.”

Trell blinked. “She turned you down?”

“Oh no. We had a lovely chat. But she’s sharper than most. Too sharp to fall for my usual theatrics.” The Orion sighed wistfully. “Which makes her all the more interesting.”

“So you’re not giving up?”

“I’m just recalibrating.” Raii gave a sly smile. “Even Orion charm must respect resistance. She’s not a puzzle to solve. She’s a solar flare. You admire, prepare, or you burn.”

Trell tapped again. “Solar flare. Not a puzzle. Got it.”

Their meals dwindled as more officers began trickling into the lounge. Outside the viewport, a golden thread of starlight passed across the hull. Raii stood and collected his tray with the grace of a dancer rising from a stage.

“Thank you,” Trell said as he also rose. “I feel like I learned more in twenty minutes with you, than in three holo-seminars on interpersonal dynamics.”

“Consider it your first lesson,” Raii said as he took an exaggerated bow. “Class dismissed.”

As he strode away, Raii paused and turned back. He pointed richly-green finger at Trell’s plate.

“And seriously! No more fermented sea fungus on first dates.”

Trell held up his hands in an admission of guilt. “Lesson learned.”

Raii gave a playful wink and vanished into the corridor.

Trell sat back down, staring at his PADD. Next time, he’d be ready.

=/\= Sixty-Two Minutes Later =/\=

The door to the JAG office swished open with the smoothness of a well-maintained isolinear junction. Lieutenant Raii stepped inside with the languid grace of someone who refused to rush anywhere. His red-orange hair looked as though it had been styled by a team of poets and a soft wind.

His cramped office hummed with crisp orderliness. PADDs were stacked in purposeful towers. Lighting was warm but clean as it illuminated the brushed metal walls and matte surfaces of the room.

Behind one of the desks sat Crewman Elissa Vang, hunched over a monitor. Her dark brown hair was pulled into a practical bun. Dark brown eyes were intense and unblinking. A steaming mug labeled ‘You Have the Right to Remain Caffenated’ sat beside her elbow.

“Lieutenant,” she said the moment he entered, still focused on her work.

Raii paused just inside the threshold. “Good morning, Crewman Vang. Have we stabilized the moral core of the Federation yet, or shall I start with a pastry?”

“No time for pastries,” she said briskly. “You have six pending requests for a signature. One is a crew transfer order involving a disgruntled warp specialist. One is a requisition for updated safety signage in the port-side plasma conduit. One is a routine disciplinary log from Deck 7. Some crewman got mouthy about replicator access. Two are cargo audit verifications from yesterday. One is a request for your confirmation that you read last week’s shuttlecraft maintenance standards update.”

Raii moved to his desk and sank into his chair with a sigh. “Stars above, do the laws of the Federation tremble under the weight of misplaced conduit labels?”

Elissa finally looked at him. “You promised to do most of this yesterday afternoon.”

“Did I?” Raii tilted his head. “I was under the impression I was attending an emergency hearing on the ethical implications of leisurewear in command zones.”

“That was Tuesday,” Vang said dryly.

“Was it?” Raii asked as he picked up a PADD at random. “Time is such a nebulous thing aboard starships, isn’t it?”

“You said you’d get to the backlogged approvals at fourteen hundred hours yesterday,” she added. “It’s now oh-nine-forty-four.”

“I shall therefore simply redefine ‘afternoon’ to mean something more poetic,” Raii said as he flipped the PADD upright. Radiant pink irises stared at it with deliberate vagueness. “Something like the hour when a lover returns, or when the stars blush purple.”

“Sir.” Elissa was all business.

He sighed and reached for the top PADD on the stack. “Very well. Let it not be said that Raii, defender of jurisprudence and aesthetics, has shirked his solemn duties.”

“You could just read them.”

“I could,” he agreed. “Or I could stare at them until understanding arrives via osmosis.”

Crewman Vang folded her arms and raised an eyebrow.

Raii relented with another sigh. Large palms flicked on the first PADD as he skimmed the lines.

“‘Cargo manifest C-91, Deck 12. Contents: 14 canisters of tritanium sheeting, 8 containers of replicator-grade protein packs, 2 standard issue phaser repair kits…’” he read aloud, already wilting. “Is this what life has become? Inventory logs for canned protein and angry technicians?”

“Could be worse,” Vang said cheerfully. “You could be handling the cargo instead of signing papers about it.”

“You wind me up, Elissa.” He tapped his thumbprint onto the approval box and set the PADD aside. “There. One done. That should keep the balance of justice afloat for another three minutes.”

She rolled her eyes and started reading PADDs again.

Raii glanced at her from under his lashes. Her uniform was crisp, boots polished. She had that particular glow of someone who’d already read twenty documents before breakfast and had opinions about all of them.

He leaned back in his chair and gently nudged the next PADD aside.

She wasn’t looking.

Carefully, Raii reached into the top drawer of his desk and withdrew a small mirror. It was foldable, made of polished metal and engraved with an Orion proverb on the back. It read ‘Truth begins with a good reflection’. He flipped it open and studied his image with care.

A strand of red-orange hair had decided to stage a solo act. It curled out above his right brow. Raii pursed his lips as he smoothed it back with two fingers. This adjusted the wave above his ear to better match his cheekbone line.

He turned his head slightly. Left profile. Right. Then he practiced a smile. Not his courting smile, or his more flirtatious ones. He tried to conjure up a warm, professional expression that suggested he might read your entire report if it included good footnotes.

Footsteps approached the divider between the desks and a storage hall.

Elissa Vang was returning.

In one smooth, practiced motion, Raii dropped the mirror into the drawer and palmed a random PADD. The sheepish Orion leaned forward like he’d been reading intently for hours.

Elissa walked in and paused in the threshold. She blinked. “Oh.”

Raii looked up slowly, face perfectly neutral. “Yes, Crewman?”

“Just surprised to see you working already,” she said, a little uncertain of what she saw.

“I told you I’d get to it this afternoon,” he said a he tapped the PADD gently. “I figured I’d get a head start.”

She tilted her head and squinted. Elissa was clearly not expecting him to actually be on task yet. “You’re reading the audit report?”

“Am I?” Raii glanced at the screen. “Ah yes. The fascinating case of container delta-three-eight-five.”

She gave him a skeptical look.

He smiled. “I do occasionally surprise, Elissa.”

“You’re full of surprises, sir” she said unconvinced.

“Thank you.”

“That wasn’t necessarily a compliment.” The short woman huffed to puff dark bangs away from her eyes.

“But I choose to accept it as one.” Raii smirked, happy to twist her words.

Elissa’s eyes narrowed just slightly, as if trying to catch him.

Finally, she nodded and said, “I’ll be back in twenty with the personnel file on that warp specialist.”

“Looking forward to it,” he said as he waved her off with a little flick of his fingers.

As soon as she left, Raii slumped slightly and let the PADD drop to the desk.

He reached towards the drawer before pausing. Raii sighed once more in resignation. He moaned as he reluctantly pulled the cargo manifest back towards him.

Maybe he could skim enough to bluff his way through the afternoon. It would be time for the gym soon after work. Verdant hands rubbed his emerald temples as he muttered to himself. “Tritanium, protein, phaser kits. Riveting.”