The sparkling light faded and Karl had to blink away the ache behind his eyes. It wasn’t that he didn’t like the transporter. It was an object, a tool. It served people and a purpose. It was no more capable of being liked or disliked than it was possible to dislike a fork, or like a door. It just existed. But....yes…there was something. Just for a moment each time he was left feeling like he was two people in the same place. It was disconcerting. Then there were those ideas out there that by being transported you were basically a copy. The original having been destroyed. Karl wasn’t going to claim to be a thinker. Oh he had sat through the ethics and morals courses like a good officer, but it was just words. You did what you needed to. Nothing less.

The headache faded. He stepped down from the platform. “Lieutenant Olfmann, I am reporting in.”

The technician behind the console nodded wearily. “You and just about everyone else, sir. Seems we have most of the sector coming aboard. Are you crew or here for a looksie around the new ship?”

Karl shrugged the shoulder carrying his holdall as an answer and the technician took the hint. “I see, sir. Well, it’s a pleasure to welcome you aboard,” He tapped a few cursory buttons. “There we go, sir, I have logged your arrival. I am sure the Quartmaster will be able to assign you quarters. If we ever find out who the quartmaster is, that is.”

“Seems,” Karl thought for a moment and then finished with, “chaotic.”

“That would be one word for it, sir.” A light blinked on the console and the technician looked down at his board. “Sorry, sir, I have another incoming signal.”

“That’s fine, thank you.” He looked around for a second and the technician looked up. “Try Sickbay, sir. It’s where we are sending all the new arrivals in crew until we know where to put people.”

“I imagine the medical staff appreciate that.” Karl gave a half smile.

“That’s why they have waiting rooms, sir.” The technician flashed a smile which faded into a frown of concentration as he returned to work.

Karl wandered off, guided by instinct and computer directions until he found the medical dungeon. Time to be prodded and poked, he decided, and stepped through the door.

Karl Olfmann.