He had seen this room about a dozen times before: a single bed barely large enough to sleep in. The blue glow of a nearby computer screen displaying the Star Fleet logo dousing the room with the unflickering hue. A replicator that probably hasn’t power restored yet, and likely hasn’t been used since the last occupant transferred. It would take weeks to get the machine to get his hot chocolate just right.

But it was home. And hopefully would be for some time.

Eric- or Sapper as he’d been called since he started dreaming of being an engineer- was finally back aboard a starship.

Sapper unconsciously rubbed his collar- the single gold pip suddenly reminding him of what he had lost in the past ten years. Much came flooding back. Much more was was kept in the back of his mind- with considerable effort- lest he breakdown again. “This is conditional”, the Admiralty Board had stated time and time again. “A man with your record doesn’t get second chances”. He used those echoing words as a mantra to keep some of the worse memories from surfacing.

Sapper even tried to not think about the name of his assignment: The Olinski. He had met the man before- another life ago. A great man, to be sure. It was as if the Admiralty Board was purposely trying to make him breakdown.

Sapper tossed his duffel bag on the bed. He wanted to unpack. He wanted to decorate the walls with all the medals and awards he had earned, holograms of friends- many of whom were no longer with us- and the scale-models of the USS Merlin and USS Odin (the Viking-class). But instead, he sighed, and turned. As the doors opened into the corridor and light streamed in, he realized that he hadn’t even bothered to activate the illumination in his quarters: just the eerie blue glow of the computer console making the room feel even less inviting.

“I just hope this ship has a good counselor- with the neccessary security clearance to actually hear what I have to say,” Sapper said aloud to no one in particular while leaving his quarters, the hiss of the door closing behind him.

He was scared, to be sure. But home would be the hum of the warp core, the literal heartbeat of any ship. “Engineering”, he muttered, stepping into the turbolift. “Belay that. Sickbay”, he corrected, remembering proper protocol for all new transfers.

-Daniel