The command platform stood within its half-ring, raised only slightly above the main floor of the bridge. Bronze accents along the support struts caught the light each time a console shifted its color scheme.

Lieutenant T’Naagi’s copper hair was braided back in a tight coil that caught glints of red-gold as she leaned forward at the science console with childlike excitement. Her vibrant pink eyes shimmered as she blinked. “Captain,” she said, unable to restrain the grin that stretched across her green-tinted cheeks. “Approaching Theta-Khamor means we’ll soon see the trinary spread of that system’s stars. Two dwarfs and a medium main sequence, stuck in the stable resonance of their gravitational dance. I’ve never seen a system like it.”

Commander Smythe stood at the captain’s right, arms folded loosely behind his back. “Lieutenant,” Smythe said lightly, “I’m sure they’ll still be there in twenty minutes. For now, keep an eye on the shifting subspace eddies in our path.”

She huffed as her shoulders rose. “I am, sir.”

“I know you are.” Smythe’s lips quirked. The pair often joked. It was usually the science officer who teased the XO.

She adjusted her display with a sheepish sigh.

At the Intelligence station along the raised rear section of the bridge, Itata sh’Zeles answered in her bright, melodic Andorian voice. “I can assist as well, Commander.” Her station was now transformed into something halfway between navigation support and cosmic weather forecasting. It utilized the powerful sensors of the ship’s pod to enhance data collection on the route ahead.

Itata’s short white bob bounced slightly as she tapped the side of her console. A curled wave of hair fell stylishly over one side of her forehead. “I’ve been laying an overlay across the navigational feed into a color-shaded subspace topography. It’s actually fun doing something other than spy work.”

Her antennae crooked forward eagerly.

M’Row at Ops released a dramatic sigh that came out half-grumble and half-purr. The ginger-furred Caitian leaned back in his seat as if his spine were trying to melt into the chair. One blue eye and one red eye lifted toward the captain. “Fun isn’t the word I’d use, sir. Everything out here is running with the efficiency of a clogged filtration unit.” His striped, fluffy tail lashed once. “Distant eddies are carrying enough turbulence to push back on our plasma manifolds. Engines are running harder just to keep us in straight line motion.”

Captain Raku arched an eyebrow. “Harder? Do you think these forces are straining our system?”

“Not dangerously so,” M’Row amended with a quick flick of his ears. “Just annoyingly so.”

“Noted.” Raku tapped his combadge. “Engineering, this is the captain. How’s our ship holding up in this mess?”

The reply came from Lt. Commander Moon in a calm, grounded voice. She sounded unflappable even when the universe was actively trying to implode. “Everything is under control, Captain. I’m working with Ensign Dirov to rewrite the operational algorithms inside the plasma manifold relay terminals.”

“Interesting.” Raku stated, genuinely impressed. “Are you rewriting the way the programs process data transfer?”

“Yes, sir. At least, you can pretty much put it like that. The system is still working off configurations from the 2370s. We’re updating them into something more suited for 2402. It should prove more dynamic and efficient. This should smooth out the worst of the gravimetric turbulence.”

“Excellent work, Commander. Keep me posted.”

“Aye, Captain. Will do.” The Korean engineer adjusted her purple tinted hair as she spoke.

As the comm line cut, chief helmswoman Ruiz glanced back over her shoulder from the helm. Her dark curls bounced slightly as she turned. “Captain, the ship just calculated another course update. An eddy just collapsed about forty-five minutes ahead of us. The disturbance distorted the path too severely to proceed, even at warp. The new avoidance route adds ninety-three minutes to our arrival time.”

M’Row sagged forward in his seat and pressed his face briefly into his hands. “I’m so glad we went back to a three-shift rotation,” he muttered. “At least now if something ridiculous happens at two in the morning, I won’t be the one dealing with it.”

“I’ll still be up during those hours,” Smythe said dryly. “Checking on Gamma shift. Wandering around. Drinking coffee. It’s routine at this point.”

Raku smothered a small smile. “If things go well, gentlemen, I’ll manage a few hours of sleep before we reach the diplomatic talks.” He paused, then tapped his badge again. “Raku to Lieutenant Raii.”

A long, uncomfortable silence stretched across the bridge.

T’Naagi’s eyes lifted toward the ceiling. sh’Zeles’s antennae angled sideways. M’Row muttered something about the Orion legal advisor under his breath. It felt as if Lt. JG Raii’s lack of response was expected.

After several tense moments a breathless voice came through, slightly too loud. “R—Raii here, Captain!”

Raku closed his eyes briefly. “Lieutenant. Are you prepared for tomorrow’s meetings? You’re expected to work with the Akaru advisor on regional law, and brief them on Klingon and Romulan cultural frameworks.”

“Yes, sir! Absolutely, sir!” Raii answered with rapid-fire enthusiasm. “I’m, uh.. Deep in study. I’ve been reviewing Beta Quadrant navigational law and comparative diplomacy. I’ve also prepared notes based on a few ancient border claims. Read some basics on Klingon etiquette too. Browsed an article on Romulan posture dynamics. And—”

“Lieutenant”, Raku huffed.

“Yes, sir?”

“Just be ready.”

A pause followed before the flame-haired JAG officer responded. “Understood, Captain.”

The commline cut with a soft chirp.

Raku stood from his chair and turned towards the Orion on the bridge. “Liuetenant, report on the surrounding subspace currents.”

T’Naagi straightened, excitement replaced by professional focus. “We’re entering the outer fringes of Akaru territory now. Distortions stretch between the subspace eddies like a net. These fields generate sheared layers of subspace drag. We’re navigating around the densest pockets to minimize their effects on our warp engines.”

sh’Zeles tapped the massive colorful overlay of the intel station. “There’s a region about sixteen minutes ahead where the currents twist into a web-like structure. I can guide us through if the helm keeps the adjustments smooth.”

Ruiz grinned as she shifted the ship’s trajectory. “Smooth is my middle name.”

M’Row mumbled just loudly enough for everyone to hear, “I thought your middle name was ‘mischief.’”

“Both can be true,” Ruiz replied.

The Cardinal slipped deeper into the region. Subspace currents drifted across the forward viewscreen like ghostly ribbons of blue-white haze. Their thin threads were only visible when highlighted by computer-generated sensor enhancement. Some distortions coiled and pulsed like lightning drifting in slow motion. Other waves drifted like smoke against a cosmic breeze.

The ship trembled occasionally, with a gentle shudder that rumbled each time the hull passed through an invisible eddy.

Raku resumed his seat. “Status?”

“Our latest course looks clear ahead,” Ruiz said. “I mean, free from any more corrections, at least.”

“Our structural integrity field is holding steady,” M’Row confirmed. “Engines are at eighty-nine percent efficiency.”

“Science is monitoring the density of upcoming eddy clusters,” T’Naagi added.

“Weapons systems are functional, Captain”, M’kath said with a scowl that the command team learned to recognize as enthusiasm. “No threats are detected at this time.”

sh’Zeles turned from her station, eyes bright. “And I’ve found the cleanest path through the next distortion belt. It’ll shave off about twelve minutes if the captain approves.”

Raku nodded. “Approved.”

The crew moved in efficient unison. The ship banked slightly as it drifted toward a narrow golden band in the lattice overlay. The sensation resembled gliding between slow-turning gears the size of planets.

“Overlay the sensor pod data onto the main screen, sh’Zeles. Let Ruiz have the visual picture.”

“Right away, sir”, the Andorian shen said as her elegant azure fingers input the command.

Raku looked across the bridge. Every officer brought their own flavor of strength to the moment. This, he mused, was exactly why Starfleet put diverse crews together. Not because it was politically ideal, but because no single perspective could ever navigate the galaxy alone.

As the Cardinal swept toward the inner region, sh’Zeles lifted her head suddenly. “Captain, I’m picking up a micro-distortion collapse forming at our three o’clock.”

Ruiz reacted instantly. “Adjusting course with a small correction.”

T’Naagi verified. “Sensors confirm stabilization.”

The moment passed with barely a shake.

Raku let out a slow breath. “Well done.”

The ship continued cutting its path toward Theta-Khamor.

Light from the distant stars reflected faintly off the polished hull. Each star cast a different hue ranging from a cold cerulean shimmer, to warm white radiance, and a faint honey-gold glare.

sh’Zeles leaned back slightly, antennae tilting upward. “We’ll be in direct visual range of the three stars in under eighty minutes.”

“And in negotiations shortly thereafter,” Smythe added with pointed weight.

T’Naagi nearly bounced in her seat. “Three stars…”

“Negotiations,” Smythe repeated more loudly.

She forced herself to nod. “Yes, sir. Negotiations. And stars.”

M’Row tapped irritably at his panel. “Romulans and Klingons disputing territorial claims in a region that barely sustains coherent subspace, hmm? Brilliant. Exactly what we need.”

Ruiz added, “At least we’re arriving after most of the Task Force. It gives us time to breathe.”

Raku turned his chair slightly toward them. “We also needed time for the crew to recover.”

A quiet fell over the bridge.

The Jovian Mind Flu had cut through the Cardinal like a ghost of someone else’s memory. It came with sluggish thoughts, fogged perception and intrusive hallucinations. Every officer here had felt it. Every officer had suffered. Entire departments were still in counseling rotation.

T’Naagi’s voice softened. “I’m glad no one’s seeing ghosts anymore.”

sh’Zeles nodded. “Or hearing voices.”

M’Row muttered, “Or forgetting how to reroute the replicators. I had to eat salmon for three days.”

Smythe shot him a look. “Lieutenant. You love salmon.”

“That’s irrelevant”, said the sandy-furred Caitian.

Raku exhaled gently. “We’re well enough now to complete the mission. And this mission will test every ounce of clarity we’ve regained.”

The captain faced forward again. “The Romulans and Klingons each claim several worlds in this region. These planets sit alongside Akaru-charted stellar corridors. It’s our job to determine what legitimacy either side has, and whether we can prevent this from becoming the spark of some distant conflict.”

sh’Zeles’s antennae slowly angled downward. “So… another calm, diplomatic assignment.”

“Essentially,” Smythe replied. “Hopefully.”

Ruiz piped up, “It beats running from Breen patrols or hiding from the Vaadwaur.”

“Barely,” M’Row countered.

The forward starscape swirled as Ruiz made another minor course adjustment. “Captain, the next collapsed eddy should be encountered in forty-one minutes. After that, the path looks smooth.”

“Good,” Raku said. “We need all the time we can get.”

A quiet routine stretched comfortably across the bridge. Officers exchanged murmurs, reviewed data, cross-checked navigational layers and prepared themselves for the upcoming summit. The soft hum of consoles and shifting footfalls created a cadence that soothed the underlying tension.

Raku stood once more. “Maintain current heading, condition green. Continue to analyze the trinary dynamics of that star system as we close, science.”

“Aye,” T’Naagi said with a grin she couldn’t bother to hide.

sh’Zeles added a cheerful, “Smooth sailing from here, Cap.”

Ruiz echoed, “As smooth as it gets, anyway.”

M’Row sighed but allowed a small, reluctant smile to curl beneath his whiskers. “Fine. Maybe this won’t end in disaster.”

Smythe chirped, “Lieutenant, this is Starfleet. Things always ends in disaster.”

Raku turned to him dryly. “Commander. Ends ‘near’ disaster, not in. We’ll figure things out.”

Smythe gave a small, polite shrug. “A managed disaster, sir.”

The captain huffed out a sound between amusement and resignation before adding, “Fair enough.”

The Cardinal continued forward, wrapped in the shimmering complexity of the Shackleton Expanse. Despite the navigational hazards and political minefields waiting ahead, the bridge felt focused and on track. There was a sense of wonder about the region of space they found themselves within.

Alpha shift moved as one organism through the swirling distortions that surrounded the aging Nebula-class. The Cardinal sailed on towards its next uncertain chapter.