No more was heard from the cargo bay area for the rest of the day; presumably everything there was proceeding uneventfully. Crewmen who had legitimate business in the area reported that there was the distant buzz of noise from the sound-checks, accompanied by much laughter and the occasionally disastrously-audible burst of bad language.
In the meantime, there was enough to do around the ship for everybody aboard, so that the thought of their guests must of necessity be banished for the time being. The occasional visit to Jupiter Station was a necessity, and this one involved far more than the usual engineering checks and upgrades and the restocking of the weapons racks. Cargo Bays 4 and 5 were for food supplies, but today the cases had of necessity to be parked on the station, awaiting loading to start the next day. In the meantime there were reports to be uploaded to Starfleet's databanks, diplomatic developments to be discussed, scientific samples to be transferred, and as many done as possible of the rest of the thousand and one tasks that had to be performed in the limited time allowed before the ship resumed her voyage of discovery. In the absence of his department head, Ensign Müller supervised the bestowal of the first batch of the latest range of torpedoes; Trip being the next senior officer on board, he went to him when the job was completed. Questioned as to Malcolm's progress, he reported having had a conversation with the Leutnant via the comm system regarding the progress of the remainder of the consignment, and it had apparently been filled with pungent observations he thought it unfitting to repeat verbatim to the Kapitan. He was confident, however, that the problem would be overcome by the time his superior officer returned to the ship.
"Yeah, I'll guess it will," said Trip, grinning, and dismissed the ensign to return to whatever next required his supervision. If Malcolm was in that sort of a temper, he defied any obstreperous station-crew to get the better of him.
With so much to do, the time flew past. Sooner than anyone would have thought possible, it was time for shift changeover. The occasion had required some adjustment to the duty rosters, but since they were coupled up, only a skeleton crew were required to report for beta and gamma shifts, and with a bit of give and take on all sides those on duty were mostly those who had no interest in the concert. The station crewpeople signed off for the day and Enterprise subsided into an expectant quiet.
Talk in the Mess Hall over dinner was of little else. More than one diner carried portable music devices from whose headphones issued the familiar notes of Fierce Blue Ascot's more popular tunes. Everyone, it seemed, was eager to behold the legend for themselves.
"I wonder if they'll come in for dinner?" speculated Travis, eyeing the door hopefully.
"No. I asked Chef. They had some stuff sent down." Hoshi looked momentarily despondent, but then brightened again. "I wonder if he'll chat to us afterwards?"
"Got to!" Her fellow-ensign was an incurable optimist. It was evident that he couldn't conceive of their guest being so curmudgeonly as to reprise his vanishing act the moment the concert was over. Surely, if he felt that the ship's achievements merited a special concert, he wouldn't grudge a few extra moments to talk?
"So what was he like when he came on board?" The helmsman's eager gaze turned to Trip. "Did he say much?"
"Some." Trip shrugged and rolled his eyes, trying to imagine how to explain the encounter. "He talks really weird. That accent ... I could hardly understand some of the things he said. Maybe you'll have more luck, Hoshi!"
"You'll have to offer to act as translator for him!" Travis nudged her with his elbow, and she laughed and elbowed him back.
"Well, I guess I'm finished here. I should have just about time to shower and change before the fun starts." The chief engineer pushed his empty plate away. "I promised T'Pol I'd fill her in on the cultural side of things this evenin'."
"A date, Commander?" The comm officer's eyes twinkled.
"Oh, sure. Me, her and most of the rest of the crew, and I've already warned her to wear earplugs." To the sound of his companions' laughter he left the Mess Hall. Romantic it certainly wasn't, but hell, like he'd said to Jon earlier, it was certainly going to be different.
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