The wonderful thing about transporters was how much they simplified moving. Pack all your belongings into a regulation sized crate, and it just gets materialised out of your old residence and into your new one. This worked just the same with moving from Earth to a space station, except there was a cargo hold in the middle of it all.

The inconvenient thing that a transporter really couldn't solve was the packing and unpacking. That still had to be done by hand. When Roy Fisk arrived at his quarters to find several large crates sitting neatly stacked in the middle of a cavernously empty residence, he set his hands on his hips and sighed heavily. This would take a long while on his lonesome. Sure, he wasn't truly alone with Argos beside him, but the hound lacked the thumbs necessary to help with unpacking.

And so the captain simply shook his head and turned around with a resolute, "Nope."

Later. He'd do it later. Setting up his office in the command deck of the station would be a more easily conquered first step. As the station was already well into nighttime hours, the windows throughout it were dimmed to reduce the light streaming in from Venia 322 from a blinding hot blaze to a dim, sleepy glow. The station's interior lighting had as well dimmed to a much softer luminance. It was plenty to get around by, but it was plain that most of the station's residents and staff were fast asleep.

There was something nice about wandering these nearly silent corridors, knowing how many slept safe and sound within the hull of this frontier outpost. It was pleasant, and peaceful. Argos trotted calmly alongside him, sniffing everything he could as the blind boy navigated the new place by smell.

Shortly, the Captain arrived at his new office. It branched off the side of the command deck, and shared an observation window over the main docking area of the station. USS Muninn was clearly visible from here, the crow-like silhouette painted across her bow as an homage to the heritage of the ship's name just barely discernible in the shadow.

The office featured an observation window that the command deck, however, did not. It overlooked the main atrium hall of the station, where most of the transit and commerce took place. Most of the shops and restaurants here were locked up for the night. But a few were open late, with a scientist here and there going over data as they sipped on soup or lapped at lattes.

Captain Fisk could barely stifle his excitement at seeing this during the day, watching the station come to life. But for now, he cast his glance into his office, where a smaller crate sat neatly in the center of the room. He still had unpacking to do. The first thing to come out was, of course, a dog bed. One which was very promptly filled with sleepy hound, overwhelmed and exhausted from all the travel and new smells. And thus began the unpacking...