Oblivion - Michael Jan Friedman [17]
“Well,” said Iulus as Ulelo and Bender took the only empty seats in the room, “look who’s here. We thought we were going to have to send a search party out for you.”
“That’s right,” said Kotsakos, a slender woman with black hair drawn into a bun. “If we have to listen to Sulak’s Concerto for Harp and Flute, you have to listen to it too.”
That got a laugh from the group.
“I was detained in the science section,” Emily Bender explained, “running extra diagnostics to get ready for the anomaly. And Ulelo was kind enough to wait for me.”
“Quite the gentleman, that Ulelo,” said Vandermeer.
Again, everyone laughed. But it wasn’t a mocking laugh. It was gentle, the kind of laugh shared by comrades.
“Hey,” said Pfeffer, a stocky, blond-haired woman, “the gang’s all here. What are we waiting for?”
Iulus, who was inserting a chip into the holographic projector in the center of the table, shot Pfeffer a glance. “As I recall, I had to drag you in here kicking and screaming a few weeks ago. Or was that some other blond security officer?”
Nearly a month earlier, when the Stargazer was at Starbase 32, Iulus had purchased a series of performances by the London Symphony Orchestra recorded on isolinear chip. In order to savor them properly, he had resolved to play them one a week.
At first, only Kochman and Vandermeer had been inclined to join Iulus for his private concerts in the lounge. But little by little, the others—Ulelo and Emily Bender included—had been lured in or otherwise found their way there.
Two weeks ago, they had heard a piece by a Tellarite composer. Then, last week, they had listened to something by a Rigelian. This week was devoted to Sulak—a Vulcan.
“I’ve been looking forward to this,” said Vandermeer. “They say that if you close your eyes, you feel as if you’re trekking across Vulcan’s Forge.”
“Indeed,” said Urajel, an Andorian, “and I heard it said of the Tellarite piece that you feel as if you’re slogging through Beggerin Marsh. But I felt no such thing.”
“You didn’t like the Tellarite piece?” asked Kochman. “I thought everyone liked it—even our pal Ulelo, and he’s not easy to please.”
“Yes,” said Vandermeer. “It’s the rare composition that gets the Ulelo stamp of approval.”
Kotsakos turned to Iulus, who had finished inserting the chip into the holoprojector and was taking his seat. “Speaking of approval,” she said, “how do you like engineering?”
Iulus had embarked from Earth with the Stargazer as a security officer. It was only after Captain Picard took command of the ship that Iulus asked for and received a transfer to the engineering section.
“I like it,” said Iulus, as he turned down the lights. “It’s keeping me on my toes.”
“More so than security?” Pfeffer asked, feigning astonishment.
“Hey,” Iulus said generously, “security was great. I just wanted something a little more—”
“Don’t say it,” a wincing Emily Bender warned him.
“—stimulating,” Iulus finished.
Kochman rolled his eyes. “He said it.”
Pfeffer leaned forward in her chair like a she-wolf who had caught the scent of her prey. “More stimulating, is it? Let’s see you say that when I’m beaming down to some uncharted planet with an away team and you’re up here running diagnostics on the starboard plasma injectors.”
That got a grin out of everyone except Urajel, who as an Andorian wasn’t inclined to do much grinning. Even Iulus had to smile, conceding that the security officer had scored a point with her remark.
“Fair enough,” he told Pfeffer. “But how are you going to feel when I’m examining alien technology on some mysterious, abandoned ship and you’re recharging phasers in the armory?”
This time, everybody at the table laughed. Even Urajel seemed vaguely amused at the exchange, though Ulelo wouldn’t have staked his life on it.
It was like this almost every day. Banter. Stories of personal