It was an interesting thing to note about human nature, that it too abhors a vacuum. Traveling through space with the routine duties made everything fall into a rhythm, all of that punctuated by the GQ drills that Lt Green did on, pardon the pun, alarming irregularity. As much as El, and others in the engineering group, did not mind the routine, the drills soon added up to a kind of competition between the teams and for better personal time. That kind of competitiveness El relished. It was fun. Admittedly it sharpened her own senses. For so much of her youth a measured pace and mindfulness was the rule rather than the exception. Here, now, it was the same but in microcosm. A measured disciplined pace in her duties intermixed with moments of racing to her station and simulating whatever it was that the Lt had in mind - hull breaches, attacks, ion storm, system failures, catastrophic plumbing failure and the like. She struggled with whether she should be as competitive as she found herself to be and whether she should be more stoic.

Still, the vacuum of the routine gave way to a ‘new’ thing. A Vulcan container with tools. For nearly anyone else that would have been beyond dull but for an engineer sneaking a peek into a Vulcan closet - albeit old - something that would be like looking into a tool chest from what? The 1960’s? That was about when this container was abandoned. That was so hard to imagine. But as much as most thought that there wouldn’t be much more than curiosity with this fine, well, it was out of the ordinary and it was tool related and it was .. well, it was almost a race to get to it.

As El stood behind Seaman Gostonovik working the cutter to get through the centuries seized lock, sparks flying and his muscles bunched as he held the tool, she cast a glance at the others. Darlene was there, leaning against the back bulkhead, sipping coffee. CPO Cleare was watching hawk eyed as Boris made the cuts, ready for El’s order to unpack once the door was open. With her as well as Galen and Dorian, almost all the seamen assigned to Engineering. She herself was eager to see what was in there. Reason would say there was little of value else the Vulcans would never have left it, and aged now that little would be ‘up to spec’. She looked at the cart that they had. By the look of it this would take more than one trip. But everyone was eager to have it all laid out and to have a look at it. When Lt Green had tasked her with this job El jumped at it.

“Ensign, you may have some additional tools for your shop. We’ve taken in a Vulcan container a couple of centuries old. Take a team and unload them and bring them back for us to look at. Lay them out along the bulkhead on E Deck. Scan them for metal fatigue. Sort them by use. Separate what we might be able to use,” Lt Green had said. All El thought of as she compiled the team from the various shifts was ‘This was going to be fun.’

With a clang a piece of the container’s lock fell away to the deck with a metallic clang. Boris tugged back his goggles. His curled up mustache and dark eyes made him look like an ancient villain about to make the reveal of the kidnapped damsel in distress or his evil plot to take over the world. “Secure the cutter,” Fiona said. “Good work, Boris. Galen, Dorian. Gloves on. Let’s get this thing open.”

The two, vastly different, the trim, hairy Greek next to the straw colored blue eyed farm boy, but both with insulated gloves up to their elbows stepped forward and each pulled on the wings of the doors to pull it open and make the big reveal ..
- El, Eng