When the server offered him wine, Calumn silently declined. Absently, he covered the top of his wine glass. He left the server in his peripheral vision, maintaining his focus on Flavia.

This was no time to lower his guard.

Taes protested with a laugh. She asked him to try the Aldebaran wine at least. Again, Calumn refused. He kept his response terse, and he respected her rank. It wouldn’t do to be flagrantly insubordinate in front of the Romulans.

Constellation’s circuitous route to avoid the navigational hazards of the Nekrit Expanse had offered them additional time to think about the Shelkvan competition to normalise diplomatic relations with the K’ritz. Too much time to think in Calumn’s opinion. Even for his most convoluted cases as an assistant judge-advocate, Calumn had never wanted so much time to prepare that he ended up second or third-guessing his own litigation strategy.

The competition was still weeks away, and a quiet bridge shift had sparked an impromptu strategy session between himself, Captain Taes, Romulan mission commander Flavia and Ketris, her… botanist? When the debating became heated, the strategy session had spilled over into the captain’s ready room, and even now, it dragged on over to the Planetarium lounge’s private dining room.

Holographic LCARS frames were layered over the dining table. Each one contained lyrics and spectrograms representing different songs Flavia had proposed she sing in the competition.

“– confidence in selecting my song,” Flavia was saying, “if only I could establish if I’m singing a rousing Romulan anthem, a meaningful song of K’ritz origin, or if I’m composing an original song about the virtues of the Free State in our triumph over the Star Empire.”

“It’s long past time you decided,” Taes affirmed, sitting directly across the table from Flavia. There was a benevolent cadence to her words that edged into matriarchal. “You still need an entire stage performance designed around the song itself.”

Quickly supporting Taes’s perspective, Calumn stated, “Commander Nune has been instructing me in the projection of my voice to the very back of the ballroom on Almagest.”

Flavia scrunched up her nose at Calumn, naked disdain behind her eyes. Calumn assumed he had missed a social cue when she said nothing about it.

To fill the space, Calumn added, “He calls it belting.”

Flavia blinked at him. Ketris added two more songs to the holographic parade arcing between them. Taes made a production of sniffing and sipping at the wine, praising its vintage to the server.

Shaking her head at him, Flavia finally responded, “Belt all you want, commander. I’m going to win over the diplomatic judges through profound lyrics.” –As she listed her criteria, she pointed out the relevant song selections– “We’ve curated songs that convey themes that will underline trust with the Romulan Free State and the value we offer. Our research has found the K’ritz Sovran was formed under similar circumstances: thriving from the corpse of a bloated oligarchy.”

“That can’t be the only path forward,” Taes said. As much as she prided herself on living by the Vulcan philosophy of IDIC, her matriarchal tone cast a shadow of condescension. Whether she intended it or not, her words conveyed a certainty that Flavia’s approach was narrow-minded.

Far more lightly, Taes went on, “Even when the lyrics are insipid, a compelling performance can win the day. How many trillions of songs have been written about love, retreading the same arc from infatuation to break-up rage.”

Calumn didn’t mention the particularly torrid Deltan love song that came to mind.

Instead, he said, “Even the most brilliant of lyrics will be wasted if you can’t make the judges cry when you sing them.”

Sighing, Flavia knocked back a swig of wine, and then she asked, “When have I come for any of you with knives?”

It took little effort to bring an incident to mind. Calumn said, “On stardate 78919.3, you set your disruptor to overl–”

Flavia stridently interjected, “No matter how big I smile, you sit there and parse my words. You always assume I’m lying.” –She snapped her gaze from Calumn to Taes– “Your theory doesn’t work in reality because my own performance is meaningless. Substance? Powerful lyrics? Those can inspire or change perspectives.”

Still paging through the holographic files, Ketris intoned, “That’s what makes them such an effective tool of propaganda.”

Pouncing to her feet, Flavia broke into song. The melody was simplistic and repetitive, but there was no denying her euphonious voice. The bright resonance was certainly carrying beyond the slatted dividers around the dining room.

“Nobody really likes you, commander,” she sang to Calumn, looking him dead in the eyes. She swung her head to the left, her dark hair piling over her shoulder.

“Your inane arguments are a chore.” Flavia kicked back, toppling her chair behind her.

“No one wants to be around you, commander,” she sang. She swayed one open palm in his direction and then the other.

“Decrypting your personal logs is a snore.” Pivoting on her foot, she spun her back on Calumn.

Without missing a beat, Flavia hopped up on the edge of the tabletop, leaning towards Taes.

In her speaking voice, Flavia said, “I still don’t understand why you aren’t performing, captain. The security of your squadron, of my people, is at stake if we don’t obtain those star charts.”

Calumn saw a flattening behind Taes’s eyes. Her open expression was swallowed away, and he saw a tightness in her jaw as if she were grinding her teeth.

“I don’t feel like it,” Taes said in a stilted cadence. She patted her abdomen more firmly and explained, “If I don’t feel it in my gut, then I can’t succeed. I know that much about myself. That could cost us the competition.”

Hopping off the table, Flavia retrieved her chair off the floor.

“I’m curious,” Flavia said, “if Commander Taes would have been the diplomatic competitor. The woman you left behind on Starbase Three-Ten, the director of social sciences. Captain Taes hasn’t published an article in years.  She likes the cushions in the centre seat.”

Taes didn’t say anything. She sipped at her wine.

“Okay then.” Flavia shrugged. She tucked her chair in and walked around the perimeter of the table. Each step was slow and carefully placed. Her eyes remained locked on Taes the entire time. She only looked away when she came to stand behind Taes.

“When are you going to thank me?” Flavia asked Taes.

Taes cocked her head to the left. “…For?”

“Hm,” Flavia intoned, and she strode off into the lounge.