The classrooms of the diplomatic wing had a vivid view of the Bravo Fleet Academy’s campus, sunlight cutting through tall windows and reflecting off the clean, polished fixtures. The cadets were in uniform, the deep crimson of command interspersed with the muted teal of sciences. Conversations were hushed but not absent, there was a light murmur of anticipation.

Aloran, having journeyed down from the orbiting starbase, was in his element as the guest lecturer. He had known the professor, Commander Burton, for decades and enjoyed many conversations on, perhaps more accurately gossip about, Federation diplomacy. Burton introduced the older man, informing the twenty or so cadets that the Vulcan was known not only for his diplomatic acumen but also for a reputation for being unexpected.

The room fell silent as Aloran stood. His posture was immaculate. His hands were clasped behind his back, his expression a carefully maintained mask of Vulcan composure, though something in the arch of his brow suggested a readiness for subtle mischief.

“Cadets,” he began, his voice low yet carrying perfectly to the back of the room, “today we will address a concept that may appear counterintuitive for a Vulcan to discuss: humour and playfulness.”

A faint ripple of suppressed amusement travelled through the room. Aloran’s gaze swept the hall, weighing each cadet with the calm focus of one accustomed to reading an entire room in a heartbeat. “I am aware that some of you may be questioning the suitability of a Vulcan to speak on this subject. I assure you, my presence here is not the result of a transporter malfunction.”

This time, the ripple became open laughter. Even the more stoic cadets in the back allowed themselves a brief smile.

“In diplomatic negotiations,” he continued once the noise faded, “logic dictates that one must understand not only the linguistic structure of a species’ communication, but also its emotional architecture. Many species – Humans most notably – employ humour as a means to reduce tension, establish trust, and signal goodwill. Others, such as the trade guild from the south-eastern quadrant on Ferenginar, view playful banter as a formal prerequisite to commerce. Among many Klingons, mock insults are considered an essential bonding ritual prior to alliance talks. Failure to engage in these customs may be interpreted as an insult, an act of hostility, or worse, an admission of weakness.”

A cadet in teal was tapping furiously into a PADD. Another, in red, was leaning forward as if watching a tactical briefing unfold.

“I have, in fact, utilised humour myself in the field,” Aloran said, pacing slowly in front of the classroom. His hands remained clasped behind his back, but there was a faint lilt in his tone, subtle, but unmistakable.

“In 2331, during negotiations between two antagonistic Klingon families that threatened sector trade, tensions had escalated to the point where disrupter fire seemed imminent,” Aloran paused, turning to face the cadets. “I observed that their argument bore an uncanny resemblance to accidentally witnessing my mother satiate her pon farr with a tribble.”

Several cadets chuckled. “One of the Klingons found this imagery ‘highly amusing’. The other was unfamiliar with Vulcan biological processes, inducing her former opponent to launch into a rigorous re-enactment of the imagined moment. It resulted in both sides returning to the table without further violence.”

A hand shot up from the front row, “Sir, were you joking?”

Aloran’s expression did not change, “Yes, cadet. The anecdote was fabricated. It would not be possible for there to be only one tribble.”

This time, the entire room laughed. Even the Andorian in the back row let out a short, surprised bark of amusement.

Aloran inclined his head slightly, as if acknowledging a successful exchange in a chess match, “Playfulness, when applied with precision, is not illogical. It is a tool – a lever in the machinery of interspecies understanding. Just as a well-placed phrase may alter the trajectory of an argument, a well-timed jest may alter the trajectory of a negotiation.”

He paused, letting the statement settle into the minds before him. Outside, a shuttle’s distant hum passed overhead. Inside, you could almost feel the cadets recalibrating their understanding of what diplomacy entailed.