Tall trees ringed the grassy park at Lanea’s edge. Their leafy, green branches gently swayed in a warm breeze. The festival grounds stretched wide across rolling lawns. Vibrant food shuttles and tents in bold swaths of blue, gold, and maroon lined the walkways. Each offered a unique dish from across the Federation through colorful advertising. The air thrummed with laughter, distant music and the sound of young children calling out to each other.

Ensign Trell Dirov moved alongside a group of his peers. He still sometimes seemed awkward, but the warm presence of his friends set him at ease.

Kian Harol walked with him, Jenna Eaglesen followed close to his side. The Trill’s blue-eyed gaze shifted between his companions. His eyes still stared distantly towards the horizon. They always seemed a little more full of hope when Jenna was nearby. Ensign Kim Jung‑soo rounded out the group. Her brown hair softly reflected the fringe of twilight overhead.

Waiting by a tent labeled Betazed Delights was Lt. JG Raii. The Orion JAG administrator was prepared to act as a guide for the newly arrived group. They had only returned from a mission to a class-L planet hours ago. Raii had been in the city of Lanea since late July with most of the Cardinal’s crew. His emerald skin glowed luminously, fresh from doing some ‘greening’ under this planet’s sun. Hair crafted from vibrant copper topped his scalp. Nearly neon-pink irises shone with mischief. Raii offered a broad, pearlescent grin.

“Evening, Ensigns,” Raii greeted in a lively tone. “You’ve arrived just in time to taste our first treat.”

He led them to a stall serving Betazoid sandwiches made from flaky, freshly-baked crackers and a tangy Uttaberry preserve.

“We’ll take one each”, Raii said to the merchant.

The heavyset, black-eyed man nodded and handed a set of jammed crackers to each officer.

Kian held the snack carefully. The cracker snapped gently. The jam escaped in a burst of warm, sweet pressure. Sharp-tasting fruit perfumed his mouth with tangy, floral notes. “This is incredible,” he said as he stared at his bite mark in surprise. Jenna tasted next. Her heart-shaped lips curved upwards in satisfaction.

“These are perfect for busy hands on the go,” Raii observed. The flaky treats seemed to hold up well, not spilling or making a mess.

They moved on to a Bajoran hasperat soufflé tent. The air smelled of chili and dough. The officers ordered their meal, standing amongst the crowd nearby as they tasted it. Each bite cradled spice within a soft, airy wrap. The hot flavor lingered and danced on their tongues. Sweet heat swelled slowly, almost painfully. Jenna squeezed Kian’s hand as the spices began to get the better of her.

One by one, the officers resigned to drink a heat-defeating liquid, designed to act as a perfectly refreshing base to the acidic flavor.

Further on, Trell discovered an oskoid leaf salad stand. Deep yellow leaves were streaked with bold purple veins. They crunched like crisp lettuce under the group’s eager chewing. The leaf’s sap oozed out of its veins to form a natural dressing. Flavors delighted their tongues with a strange, delicate sweetness. “Elegant,” Trell said as he closed his eyes and enjoyed the salad.

Jenna guided them to a Cardassian vendor laden with kanar cubes. Sweet, thick jelly made of fermented fruit and Cardassian brandy were dusted with alien sugars. The first cube was dense on Ensign Kim’s tongue. the darkly rich flavor folded in waves slightly reminiscent of grape and warm oak.

Nearby, a newly-arriving Ferengi shuttle hovered too close to an El-Aurian’s stall. Voices flared with heated accusations about the territorial intrusion. “I didn’t live for seven hundred years just for you to take my spot”, the white-haired chef shouted towards the little orange man as he stepped out of his red food shuttle.

Ensign Kim sashayed away and shook her head. She turned to watch from a distance.

Kian steered them to a modest booth offering Vulcan gespar. The fruit had pale flesh and a subtle taste that almost resembled pineapple. Slices were tender and tart. Fragrant undertones lingered after the bite. Quiet satisfaction threaded through the group as they enjoyed the fruit under a low-hanging branch.

Gentle music reverberated across the park. Strings played a gentle vibrato alongside the slow thump of bass. Soft percussion thumped and rang in the backdrop. Sounds swelled as a voice began to belt out soulful words. Children from across the Federation’s territories chased themselves in a game of tag. Insects with eight wings flew near the lanterns that glowed overhead.

Kian leaned into Jenna as the group sat. She toyed with the edge of his sleeve. The wind stirred and brushed across them. “It’s strange to feel so present,” he admitted. “I feel focused on the here and now.”

She smiled softly. “I’m here with you. We’re here together.”

Raii sampled a tiny capsule of Altairian root stew. The spicy dish was served inside edible root bark. He coughed as the xeno-peppers tickled his throat. “Bold,” he said through the tightness. “Good for the soul.”

Trell wrinkled his nose at the scent.

Kim grinned, knowing Trell’s fishy Bolian dishes were usually the ones to offend others.

Raii winked as he stood and brushed off his clothes. “There’s one more treat I need to show you all. Slug‑o‑Cola latte.”

They nodded warily. A nearby replicator kiosk offered free samples of the drink. The Orion legal administrator needed the drink after his second spicy dish. The drink hissed and fizzed as ice cream melted into its carbonated base. Each sip was fizzy, minty and creamy with hints of espresso.

Trell made a face after ordering one. “That was unexpected.” The Bolian studied the dish. “But… I’m happy.”

Jenna let her fingers brush Kian’s as they moved to an adjacent stand instead. Jumja sticks, sweet treats made from Bajoran tree sap, called out more strongly to her. They were the color of molten gold. A sticky coating flaked into sugary strands. Jenna offered Kian a bite. It broke apart sharply, then dissolved in fleeting sweetness in his mouth.

The group moved up the trail along a small hill that led away from the crowds. The officers were engaged with their treat of choice.

Around them, families laughed. A Cardassian visiting party moved between colonists, other tourists and merchants. A pair of Bajoran children sailed rudely across their intended path on hover-scooters. They were forced to stop and shrug their shoulders as the naughty youngsters searched for excitement. A stray Andorian busker sat beneath a tree, strumming quiet chords. His music conflicted with the louder band in the background.

Light softened as sunset moved towards early evening. The festival glowed amber. The flicker of lantern light rippled across the diverse crowd.

Raii broke a lingering quiet that developed as they worked to finish their latest snack. “A successful outing, yes?”

They each nodded, eyes bright. “We have to do this more often”, Trell said happily. “Here’s to friends.”

“And more”, Kian said as he turned to kiss his new lover. Jenna squeezed his hand as she leaned into the lip lock.

Trell scooted closer to Ensign Kim. She gave him an anxious look that slowly melted into one of comfort.

Beneath the trees of Lanea, among the assorted flavors of the Federation’s tastebuds, they were simply themselves.

Together.

=/\= 350 Meters East =/\=

The sweet, herb-salted air of Starset Park swirled gently through the high green trees that wrapped around the park’s edge. Their boughs rocked slightly beneath the soft sighs of the afternoon wind. Captain Raku walked alone through rows of canopied booths. He studied the open-sided food shuttles that lined the red-and-white gravel path surrounding the meadow. Scents of grilled peppers, seared rootfish, and fermented kelp sauces danced under the Bajoran’s ridged nose. Light filtered down through the adjacent canopy flickered as if the leaves were winking.

The stoic-looking captain’s hands were behind his back. His wide shoulders relaxed as his dark eyes scanned available dining selections. He wore an orange jacket open over a beige jumpsuit. His communicator was discreetly clipped to the inside of his jacket. A slight grin tugged at his face as he approached a food stand mounted to the side of a retrofitted hover-truck. Its neon signage read “Ziti 9: Pizza & Power Cells.”

A round pizza pie caught his eye. It was layered with brown mushroom crisps and spiced peppers. The cheese bubbled as if it was still pulling itself into shape.

He held his index finger to the vendor. “One piece of pizza, please. Thin crust.”

The bearded human behind the counter nodded. “You must mean a slice.” The chubby server chuckled to himself as he worked. “Coming right up, sir.”

The steaming slice was immediately served on a recycled fiberboard tray. A voice spoke to Mobra’s left. The crystal clear, feminine sound was smooth and precise.

“Good choice,” the raven-haired woman said. “Though if you want a fuller impression, you should try the pasta booth three shuttles down. They put a unique taste on ancient recipes.”

Raku turned to face her. The tall woman’s silvery-gray eyes were framed by thick ebony lashes. Her facial features were finely carved into angular cheekbones and a strong chin. Her hair formed a long, sleek shadow that hung over one shoulder. She wore a dark green blouse tucked into high-waisted tan trousers that showed off her hips. A lightweight brown jacket was slung over one arm. She radiated a subtle, confident smile.

“I’ll consider it,” Raku replied, returning the smile with his own dimpled one. He took his first bite and chewed with his eyes closed. “This slice already feels like a religious experience. Oh prophets!” Using the word ‘slice’ helped Mobra feel more human.

She laughed lightly. “Pizza can do that. I’m Greta.”

He paused just slightly at the name.

“Greta. There’s a human name I have not yet heard. Is it a typical name?”

She shrugged with easy poise. “That depends on what you mean by typical. It’s not uncommon where I’m from. My family’s from Italy. At least, a long time ago, they were. I just work in commerce out here, for now.”

“I see.” Raku took another bite of the pizza. He savored the crisp crunch beneath his teeth. “You’re a part of this dish then. I bet you can make it so well.”

“Only by the blood of my ancestors,” she said with a laugh. “I don’t cook.”

He swallowed his latest bite. “Captain Raku Mobra,” he offered with an uptick head motion. “I command the Cardinal. She’s a Nebula-class vessel currently moored out in high orbit.”

“You live on a ship, huh?”

He glanced around at the trees and the open sky. Sounds of the noisy, joyful crowd surrounded them.

“It’s not all it’s cracked up to be,” he admitted. “But yes. She’s my home. We have gardens, libraries, even a theater. We still can’t quite replicate this smell.”

“What’s life like for a starship captain?” Greta asked as she tucked her hair back with one hand. Both sets of their dark eyes locked intensely.

Raku tilted his head and took another bite. His eyes looked to the side as he chewed with slow thought. “Lonely,” he said. The word hung in the air.

She arched an eyebrow and grinned. A small breath escaped through her nose. “Well,” Greta said mischievously. “That’s what the pasta booth is for.”

Raku chuckled. “Your solution to existential isolation is carbohydrates?”

“It has worked for centuries,” she replied as she took a step closer to him. “Come on. Let me show you.”

He followed her along the colorful gravel path. The breeze lifted her jacket in her grasp behind her. The crowd had grown over the past half hour. Clusters of locals and off-worlders mingled. Their voices weaved into music that seemed to be playing from just out of sight. From a low platform in the distance, wind instruments and strings played by a Bolian trio provided a joyful noise. Their tune was subtle and rising.

“Do you come here often?” she asked over her shoulder.

“This is my first visit to Janoor. We’ve been operating in this general corridor for the past several weeks. We finished up a lengthy voyage before that. This is the first time I’ve seen real trees in months.” There was relief in the Captain’s voice.

“So what happens next?” Greta’s curiosity carried hints of forcefulness. Her accent reminded Mobra of the Mediterranean executives he met at the Lazio-Oorl Foundation yesterday.

“We have a schedule, but I find schedules bend easily when people need things. We’re on call for whatever Starfleet requires.”

“You sound more like a diplomat than a tactician.” Her hand playfully tapped his upper arm.

“I leave the fighting to my tactical officer, Ensign Kim,” he said. “She’s much meaner than I am.”

They stopped at a small booth where two Denobulan chefs were preparing hand-rolled pasta over radiant heat pans. A small queue had formed. Greta gave him a patient smile as they waited together.

“You’re not in Starfleet, I take it?” he asked.

Greta shook her head. “Civilian sector. I work in allocations. Resources. Sometimes placement.”

He narrowed his eyes slightly. “That’s a vague answer.”

“I thought you’d appreciate the mystery.”

Mobra chuckled again. “Point taken.”

The vendor handed her a bowl that she passed to the captain. A tangle of tagliatelle was mixed into a creamy sun-dried sauce that glistened red-orange in the light.

“Try it,” she said forcefully. “It’s good for you.”

He took a careful forkful, letting the flavor fill his senses. Garlic. Basil. He closed his eyes.

“Oh yes,” he muttered passionately, “I love this alien food.”

Greta laughed heavily, less restrained than her earlier chuckles. “That’s just old Italian pasta.”

Raku glanced down into the bowl and shook his head with reverence. “Are you sure this isn’t some fusion creation designed to induce pleasure through sauce?”

She leaned closer. “It’s just food. What brings pleasure, is who you eat it with.”

He met her gaze. Something in her smile lingered. Raku saw a glimmer of interest, perhaps. Or maybe it was simply her dangerously cunning sense of calculation.