Posted on Tue Apr 2nd, 2013 @ 4:43am by Chief Petty Officer Barin Tirad

Mission: Renewed Beginnings
Location: Personal Quarters [Barin Tirad]

"Well," he muttered to himself, just inside his new quarters, "its bigger than the last one."

That was something of an understatement, really. His previous vessel, the Ayutthaya, had been one of the original run of the '40s era Steamrunner-class. At nearly half the size of the Iapetus, the space given over to crew quarters had been excessively tight. Starfleet tradition granted enlisted crew ranking chief petty officer their own private quarters; space considerations aboard the Ayutthaya had demanded an end to that tradition and chiefs had shared quarters. Now, his quarters were half again as spacious - if they could still be called that - and were his alone.

Despite the additional room given over to the space, they were still a pittance compared to the space permitted to the commissioned officers.
Enough room for an actual bed - not just a set of bunks laid into the wall - a table and chairs, a small desk and terminal, all of which alone were an impressive improvement over his previous posting. What was truly astounding was the private head, however. Small though it might be, it was a welcome change from the situation on the Ayutthaya.

Not that he cared much, honestly. As he began sifting through the few transport crates that had been stacked carefully beside the bed, he couldn't help but reflect that the spartan comforts found shipboard were always an improvement over what he'd come from and where he'd been. Every time he heard junior enlisted complaining about communal quarters or living conditions, he fought the urge to remind them that life aboard a starship was a relative luxury compared to many of the places he'd lived and served and that they should feel privileged to enjoy a warm bunk all their own and food replicators at their beck and call. That they should feel honoured to live and serve here, in their wonderful controlled environment, with all of the comforts of their idealized homestead, when he'd seen too many valiant officers and enlisted die on planets and fields far from warmth, shelter, and those they loved.

As Barin opened the first crate, he pushed away the memories once again. They always came, unbidden, during this solitary tradition. He had few personal belongings - his life had taught him to never become too attached, to things, places, or people - and it took only a short while to unpack them and arrange his space appropriately. Ironically, the quarters were as bare and unpersonable after he unpacked as they had been before.

Stacking the crates beside the door, he stopped at his terminal to send a notice to the operations detail handling dunnage that it was ready for retrieval.

"Computer," he spoke aloud, "locate Lieutenant James Cohen."

The computer hesitated for the briefest of moments before responding. "Lieutenant Cohen is located in Main Engineering."

Barin nodded to himself. He'd spent the two week transit studying the deck plans and refit reports for the Iapetus. He knew the way.

As he stepped over to the table to retrieve a PADD, he caught site of his reflection in the replicator's control panel. All of the years were there, written across his face. All of the pain and trials and loss, it was there for those who looked for it. He reached up and traced the old scar, the most readily noticeable, that ran behind his ear. He needed a shave. He always seemed to.

Barin sighed to himself, shaking off the weight that he always seemed to bear, then picked up the PADD and was out the door, determined to meet the next phase of his life and leave the past where it truly belonged. He hoped.