They say it’s best to travel light and only bring the essentials. Starfleet operates as a marvel of logistics and efficiency, and so no matter where you might end up, you will likely have everything you need. Commissaries are always well stocked, and specialty items are just a requisition request away. So you can focus your packing on things that can’t be substituted. This methodology is probably very effective and helpful for most travelers, but starts to have flaws when you’re an engineer.

So many non-standard items. Almost every last tool or gadget has been repaired, refit, or reworked into some new configuration. And to add to this, tools are very personal items. You can’t buy a number four nacelle spanner with corrosive acid damage scarring the handle. You can’t requisition a pad with two coffee rigs and a scratch that look like a funny face. And are they really going to carry a one of a kind set of deuterium-plated cutlery you won out from under the nose of a very angry executive chef? Of course not.

Now all these metal tools are very heavy. Much more so than a pile of spare uniforms and some wool socks. Where you’d normally just carry it on under your arm, a jam packed crate like this is going to need a cart. Also normally, there would be an abundance of in the docking corridor ready for use to shuttle items on, off, and around the station. However, with inspections ongoing, the carts are nowhere to be found. Interesting that during a review of fitness of function, the most functional items are whisked away to a storage bay.

Never the less, after much grunting and groaning, I had managed to push my luggage crate off of Marl’s ship, down the docking corridor, thru inspections, and up to the nearest set of turbo-lift doors. This proved to be quite the noisy spectacle, and drew a fair bit of glares from the people encountered in my path. Most folks would assume that engineering is a rugged and physically demanding job, and as a result, would produce rugged and physically fit officers. But the truth is, a lot of use prefer to work smarter instead of harder, putting our efforts towards making things easier, and so we miss out on that ruggedness and fitness… surely.

The turbolift arrived shortly after being called, and its doors whooshed open in front of me. I was greeted not by a car full of people – but an abandoned luggage cart. Apparently this is one of the prime hiding spots being used. Not wasting anymore time or unneeded exertion, I loaded my crate onto the cart, and took the lift to hydroponics.

Under normal circumstances, new arrivals would be received and escorted by a chaperone. A guide and welcome party rolled into one. But as with many things, the chaperones were all unavailable currently – probably busy coordinating the ‘parade of pips’ around the starbase. In all reality, I am completely fine with this. After my luxury cruise here, I’m feeling a bit empty in the social reserves.

I pushed my cart and luggage to my new work space. It was a small hydroponics pod, with maybe enough standing working room for two or three people. It was mostly taken up by tables and shelves, which I very much appreciated. It was my little niche for my niche I suppose. If I’m going to spend most of my time fixing or tinkering on gardening equipment and the like, it makes sense to have my space be in hydroponics, rather than all the way away in engineering. A little drop of gold in a sea of blue (that’s a uniform joke I liked to make).

I opened my luggage crate and got to work unloading my equipment. Blunt tools like hammers, spanners, wrenches, and drivers, all neatly in their own drawer. Scopes, goggles, magnifiers, and a souvenir pair of Bolty themed sunglasses from an engineering conference, placed upon a shelf. Data pads, handheld instrumentation, and some coffee mugs, all in their place on the desk. Everything else, where ever it fits. The bulk of the lab equipment and tools will be delivered by the station porters over the coming days. For now, all that was left to unpack was my personal items.

I took some time rummaging thru drawers and cabinets, looking for any remnants left behind by the previous occupants of this pod. I located some old wiring spools, a pipe wrench, and a couple grow lights. Aside from that, the room was completely cleaned out. I took mental inventory of all the accessible valves and hatches, various gas and liquid connections, the replicator, and the entryway for a jeffries tube located under one of the desks.

There was a lot of grey. Especially for hydroponics. I looked forward to getting some nicely lit terrariums setup. There were multiple empty wall spaces that would be perfect for a cheeky poster or two, or perhaps even a fancy statement piece. It will take time to transform this pod into a comfortable work area, but if all goes according to my mental plan for decorating, it will be even more livable and inviting than my personal quarters.

I plan to spend the bulk of my time aboard in this pod. I am not a workaholic in the sense of being married to my job, but rather that I prefer to always be working on something. For every active work order, I like to have at least three side projects going along with them. I had spent a good deal of my travel time brainstorming various new contraptions to construct. One I was especially looking forward to, and my main project priority, was a complex series of tubes, beakers, and burners for coffee brewing.

Of all the tools available to an engineer, no single one is more important than coffee. All the advanced technology in the galaxy, all the scientific breakthroughs, and those hot cups of magic bean water still reign supreme. We can replicate and fabricate a near endless catalogue of items, but human energy is not one of them. And while many people get on fine without, and may think such a convoluted setup for coffee is a waste of time and resources, I am confident that it is effort much better spent than rotating light bulbs for hours on a cargo ship.