Counting flotsam and jetsam

Posted on Tue Aug 30th, 2022 @ 2:35pm by Lieutenant Torvin Anor

Mission: When on Risa...
Location: Starbase 12
Timeline: Two days into shore leave

If the phrase "no rest for the wicked" is true, I must be diabolical. thought one exhausted chief engineer.

Torvin was not having a good day, while the ship had docked and shore leave had commenced, his time was instead focused on the concept of the minutiae of ship maintenance. Mostly the multitude of supplies that potentially could be replicated but for ship resources reasons were usually bought on in bulk. as well as the removal of waste materials to be recycled by heavier industrial methods than the wayfarer herself could manage.

"No the order clearly stated 15 crates of duranium reinforced pipes, not 1.5! Who requests half a crate!?"

Of course this meant large amounts of various goods coming and leaving the ship which meant tedium. For the last two days Torvin had been haggling, recording, troubleshooting, and logging every minor item, good, and minor service that was being conducted, with an engineering crew that was slim to none from shore leave.

So here he was, arguing with a delivery officer for the 4th time about another crate that had somehow gone wrong in the red tape of federation bureaucracy. and as he spotted a poster to Risa, he looked at it with an almost tired gaze

"No the USS Wayfarer, W-A-Y-F-A-R-E-R, not the Washington! We're not even the same ship class! Besides are they even docked? I heard they were off in the beta quadrant!"

Of course he himself didn't have to do this either, most stations quartermasters took on the tasks themselves to allow ship engineers like himself to rest, but Risa had always made the engineer uneasy. Resort planets usually left people emotionally open, expressive and loud. Too loud for the Haliian to manage, and with the ship near derelict he'd needed something to pass the time.

So instead he kept his shore leave and traded the extra work for first call on some of the fresh injector coils. The wayfarer's core would be purring like a kitten.

His eyes span around as something caught in the corner of his eye. Spotting the next problem to resolve: "Ensign! Where are you taking those Isolinear chips! We're still in the middle of counting that stock!"

No rest for the wicked at all...