Progenitor - Michael Jan Friedman [22]
Someone was calling on him. He hoped it was Obal.
After all, the Binderian had promised to try to get him a sparring session with Idun Asmund. And when Nikolas had looked his friend up at the end of his shift, the computer had informed him that Obal wasn’t in his quarters.
He was in Idun’s.
“Come in,” said Nikolas, rising to his feet.
The doors opened and Obal entered. “Nikolas,” he said, greeting the ensign exactly as he usually did.
“There you are,” said Nikolas. “How did it go?”
He could tell from the change in the Binderian’s expression that he wouldn’t like the answer to his question. “Not well, my friend.”
“What happened?” the ensign asked.
Obal shrugged his narrow shoulders. “Lieutenant Asmund declined your invitation to spar.”
Nikolas was disappointed. Obviously, the woman was intimidated by the prospect of fighting with him.
“Maybe it would help,” he said, “if you promised her I would go easy on her.”
The Binderian didn’t look very optimistic. “I doubt it.”
Nikolas considered the lack of enthusiasm in his friend’s response. “It’s worth a try, isn’t it?”
Obal’s expression told the ensign he didn’t think so.
“Okay,” said Nikolas. “I’ll tell her myself.”
“She will not agree,” Obal told him.
“We’ll see about that,” the ensign replied. And with that, he left his friend to pay a visit to Idun Asmund.
Gilaad Ben Zoma had met Tanya Tresh on his first day at Starfleet Academy.
Though their relationship had begun as a heated love affair, it had cooled off more quickly than either of them would have imagined, and settled into the kind of warm, intimate friendship only former lovers could enjoy.
Unfortunately, Ben Zoma hadn’t actually seen his friend Tanya in more than a year. But then, he was the first officer of the Stargazer, and she was doing what she had always wanted to do—serving as an exobiologist on a Starfleet research vessel.
Still, they corresponded often by subspace packet. Usually it was just to say hello or send news of a mutual acquaintance. But this time, Ben Zoma had contacted his friend for a different reason.
“Gilaad,” she said, as beautiful as ever beneath a fashionable pile of long, blond hair. “It was good to hear from you as always—even if all you wanted was to pick my brain.”
The first officer smiled. Once, he had had other things in mind, but those days were long past. And Tanya did possess the particular expertise he needed.
“I don’t know why you’ve suddenly developed such an interest in this subject, but here’s your answer,” she said. And she went on to tell him exactly what he wanted to know.
Ben Zoma frowned. He hadn’t expected good news, but this was even worse than he had imagined.
“I hope that helps,” Tanya told him. “Take care. And say hello to your pal Jean-Luc for me. I always did have a soft spot for Frenchmen.”
Ben Zoma was so occupied with the information she had given him, he barely took notice of her teasing. He sat there for a moment as his friend’s face gave way to the Starfleet insignia.
Then he got up and made his way to the captain’s ready room.
Commander Wu looked around the surprisingly crowded mess hall for some open seats. Finding a couple at the far end of the room, she turned to her companion and pointed.
“We can sit there,” she suggested.
Ensign Jiterica turned the transparent faceplate of her containment suit in the indicated direction. “If you say so,” she responded, her voice as flat and tinny as ever.
“Good,” said the second officer, making a conscious effort to sound cheerful for Jiterica’s sake. “Let’s go.” And she led the way, threading a path between two rows of tables.
Glancing over her shoulder, she made sure that the ensign was following her. After all, Jiterica hadn’t looked eager to accompany her here in the first place. And whenever Wu happened to glance at the Nizhrak’s ghostly features, she had seen indications of uncertainty and trepidation.
On the other hand, that might not have meant anything.