Posted by Cadet Caelian Weir (Engineer) in Check In - Cadet Caelian Weir Reporting for Duty
With a hollow thunk, the panel slipped free of the wall and fully into his grasp. He held it steady for a moment, braced like a shield. There was no actinic flash, no prickling of static along his skin. The air scented stale but that wasn’t unusual. Nodding mentally, he set the panel on the floor and squinted into the darkness. Thin metal conduits and ribbons of light stretched away from him into the crawlspace, lights winking at him here and there like nocturnal creatures disturbed. Again he paused for a breath, and again nothing leapt out at him as odd.

With a thoughtful grunt he slid his toolkit into the crawlspace, slithered in after it. He scanned the nearby readout panel, noted the conditions. Out of habit, he tapped the side of the display with a finger. Nothing changed. It wouldn’t have been as simple as that, but he had hoped. He felt the corner of his lip twist into the ghost of a smile. It was a challenge, a battle of the mind. An elusive curiosity lay before him, and he would need to outwit it if he were to persevere. Humming thoughtfully to himself, he nudged his toolkit deeper into the crawlspace.

Time slipped away from him and into the winding gloam. He could feel the hum of equipment overhead, sense the charged air of the power conduits at his shoulder. There was a melody here, a chorus of form and function. Each part was a note woven into the greater whole, rising to a crescendo of efficiency. It carried him along, lulled at his senses like a siren on a distant shore. It called, and he would follow to the ruinous shores and his goal.

There!

It was faint, teasing his ear like the shadow of a whisper, but palpable. He moved this way and that, chasing it with the tenacity of the hound on the scent. He turned. It slipped away. He doubled back, found it again. The vibrations of the conduits were discordant here, the lights a few lumens dimmer. These were false trails, illusions. He grinned and pulled himself along. His toolkit clattered ahead excitedly, urging him to follow.

He slid to a stop in front of a junction box, squinted at it. The readout blinked innocently back at him, unfazed by his accusatory stare. The toolkit popped open, eager help him prove the deceit. The perfunctory panel went dark and fell away beneath the attentions of a sonic driver. His slender fingers hovered over the chips and circuits, his mind racing along the coils and pathways. A charge of excitement prickled the air as his index finger brushed the edge of an isolinear chip and the entire panel flickered defeat.

“Caelian?” a deep voice rippled along the crawlspace to him.

The guilty chip fell into his tan palm. “Down here, Papa. The kitchen junction.”

There was a befuddled pause. “Where?”

“Section Seventeen Kappa, Papa,” he replied with a patient sigh.

“Ah, right. Right. On my way.”

Caelian laughed softly and let his hands do the work. He’d dealt with the house’s junction panels before, knew them almost as well as the construction crew. Perhaps better. It took him a handful of moments to depolarize the chip and socket it back into place. The panel hummed to life, joined in the symphony of efficiency once again. This time, however, it wasn’t an earsore. He took his time returning his tools to their proper place in his kit. There was no point in haste; his father would insist on reviewing his work.

Huffing and grunting himself along, his father turned the corner and spied him. A great grin split his grey beard, dark eyes glittering with excitement. Caelian wriggled about, pushed his toolkit aside, and allowed the older man to inspect his work. He almost seemed disappointed when there was nothing to do. He shot Caelian a confused look when he chuckled.

“Papa,” he grinned, placing a hand on his father’s shoulder, “you’re not in Starfleet anymore. You don’t have to fix everything. I know this house almost as well as you do. You’re supposed to be retired! You should be relaxing, enjoying yourself. Find something interesting to read like Mamma. I’ve got this under control.”

“Phaw.” It was difficult not to laugh at his father’s petulant expression. “You can’t break a career habit so soon, boy.”

Caelian clapped him on the shoulder. “It’s been nine years, Papa.”

“You can’t blame a man for wanting to still feel useful, eh! I tried walking, reading, fishing, anything to relax! I’m an engineer, figlio mio. These hands, they need to be busy! Realigning the warp core of the Venture… Now there was relaxation, ha!” His father’s wistful expression wilted beneath Caelian’s patient stare. He coughed pointedly, then gestured to the panel. “What was the problem, then, eh?”

He meticulously explained the process to his father. Mikal Weir would have it no other way, would want to know every step and thought leading from mystery to discovery. Some things Caelian couldn’t put into words, but somehow his father knew. Intuition was an engineer’s greatest tool, something he’d been taught well. When Caelian had explained everything to satisfaction, his father nodded.

“Good, good. Top notch work, my boy!”

He smiled, nodded. “Thank you, Papa. But why not replace these panels? The 74-Series isn’t as efficient as the new T-80s.”

Mikal made a dismissive sound. “The 74s may be slightly less-efficient, but they’re more reliable.”

As if in response to his stubborn praise, the panel flickered and gave an electronic wheeze before leaping back to life. Caelian laughed and made a few adjustments, politely ignoring his father’s indignant muttering. A thorough diagnostic assured him that the repairs would hold for the foreseeable future, and the two men lazily made their way out of the crawlspace. Once the access panel was secured in place, Mikal offered him a hearty handshake.

“Fine work, my boy! Fine work. You’ll make a fine addition to—”

A piercing shriek shook the house, cutting off his father’s praise like a knifestroke. The two men froze, looking quizzically at one another. Caelian had to force himself to exhale, then took a deep breath.

“Mamma?” he called into the house. There was no response.

He moved to search for the source of the disturbance, but Mikal held him fast. He could see his father’s mind turning. Obediently, Caelian paused. Anxiety sung in his veins.

“Just wait, figlio mio.” The moment dragged on into an excruciating eternity before his father met his concerned gaze. “A?”

Caelian shook his head. “Middle C.”

“Loud?”

“Eighty-five to eighty-seven decibels,” Caelian offered.

Mikal nodded. “Wait, then.”

“But Mamma could be—”

Another shrill thundered through the house, higher and longer than before. The two men exchanged knowing smiles.

“Good news,” they laughed together.

---

The Starfleet cadet’s uniform fit a bit snugly for his liking. Perhaps it was the circling and prodding by his mother that made him uncomfortable. The tiny woman had insisted he don it the moment it arrived. He, of course, obliged immediately. Patricia Weir may have been born with a diminutive frame, but she carried herself with a Klingon’s surety. Once she was certain that the uniform fit to her liking, she stepped back and let out an approving squeal. Caelian could only hope that the uniform’s collar would hide the mortified blush crawling up his neck.

“Come now, Patty, let the boy breathe, eh!” His mother ignored Mikal’s soft chiding. “He’s never going to get used to it if you keep poking and tugging at it. You’re like a matron Trakellian wading lizard pulling the mites from a youngling’s scales, pah.”

She swatted playfully at him. “Hush, you. I can’t help it. My little boy is heading off to Starfleet to become an officer!”

Caelian winced against the barrage of joyfully shrill noises his mother made as she flit around the room, no doubt hunting for a camera to commemorate the event. “Mamma, please, can we keep it out of the subspace frequencies? The uniform fits fine; the Academy has my specifications on-file.”

“Yes, yes, I know,” she muttered, flailing a hand dismissively at him. “You can’t blame a woman for—blast it, where did you put it, Mikal?—for wanting to make sure—ah, here it is!—for wanting to make sure her pride-and-joy is presentable on his first day. Come now, dear, in front of the mantle! Ah, there we are! Now, was that so bad?”

Mikal muttered something under his breath, earning him a scalding stare from his wife. He offered an apologetic gesture, but she stared at him a moment longer. Caelian made the mistake of moving, drawing Patricia’s glare towards him much to his father’s relief. It didn’t last. Once his mother caught sight of him in uniform, she was off in a flurry and humming happily. No one was more passionate or mercurial in her temperament than Patricia Weir.

An arm wound itself along Caelian’s shoulder, pulled him tight to his father’s side. Mikal’s expression and tone were both level and intense. “I’m proud of you, boy. You’ll do good things. Just remember what I taught you, and you’ll be an officer in no time. What do I always say, eh?”

Caelian smiled faintly. “‘Reliable, not remarkable.’”

“Good,” Mikal nodded, satisfied. “Anyone can get lucky. Perform too many miracles, and that’s all your captain will expect. No engineer can live up to that. But if you’re reliable—if your captain learns he can trust you—he will know you will do all you can to get the job done.”

“Papa, it’s the Academy. For all I know, I’ll be assigned to a starbase performing maintenance just like Grandpa Weir.”

His father snorted. “Work is work, eh? You come from a long line of engineers, figlio mio. It’s a proud career. Weirs have been keeping Starfleet running since—”

“Another time, perhaps, Mikal,” his mother cut in sharply, smiling to dull the edge a bit. “Our young cadet shouldn’t be late to his shuttle, and he has one more stop to make.”

Mikal’s exuberant expression sobered instantly. His eyes drifted away from Caelian and out the window, hung there for a long moment. Finally, he cleared his throat and patted his son on the shoulder. “Yes, true. I’ll leave you both be, then. Take good care, my boy.”’

Caelian watched his father retreat from the room and disappear down the hall towards his study. No doubt he would busy himself with a schematic or model to distract himself from his thoughts, likely until Caelian was gone. He understood why, tried not to echo his father’s mood. Even his mother’s smile seemed a touch less-bright, though her pride in him shone through like sunlight piecing a dark sky. He wanted to reach out to her, comfort and assure her, but he knew from experience that it would break her. His mother was being strong for him, and Caelian would let her.

Instead he busied himself about the house packing his things. He’d been instructed on what to bring with him, which arguably wasn’t much. What he couldn’t bring, he carefully stowed so that his mother wouldn’t have to be bothered with it. Caelian knew full well that she’d be in his room anyway, pacing about and making sure everything was in its place. Her thorough nature was one of the things that made her one of the best xenoarchaeologists in the Federation. He smiled to himself as he shut his travel bag and turned.

Patricia was silhouetted in his doorway, watching him. He hadn’t heard her approach, and he frowned. That hadn’t happened before. He could always hear her, soft and silent as she was in her way. His mother held something out to him, and he stepped closer to examine it. She clutched a lacquered wooden box in her hands, its brass filigree lovingly worn with time. She held it out to him and he took it with a curious look. His mother gave an assuring nod to his silent question, and he flipped the latch.

Inside the box lay two pieces of jagged and polished metal nestled in velvet padding, each no wider than three of his fingers. The metal was pitted along their jagged edges, but otherwise polished and cared-for. They were displayed prominently and arranged so that the one straight edge they both shared faced the other. He recognized the artifact almost instantly, snapping the lid shut and trying to hand it back to his mother.

She refused.

“Mamma, I can’t take this,” he protested. “This is a piece of history, for both you and the Empire.”

Patricia gave him a wry smile. “There are plenty of d’k tahg floating around the galaxy, and ones certainly more useful than that. Besides, it belonged to a long-dead House. As they said when I unearthed it, ‘there is no honor left to it.’ It was my first real discovery as an archaeologist, and it taught me many valuable lessons. I’m hoping you can learn a thing or two from it as well.”

“Such as?”

His mother flashed a conspiratorial smile as she turned and walked away. “The secrets you’ll discover are your own, darling. Now, go say goodbye to your sister. And please don’t be late to the spaceport unless you want a lecture from your father.”

---

The knoll was quiet, empty. A calm breeze playfully ruffled his dark hair before fading, danced along the manicured grass and into the trees. A part of him wished he could follow that whimsical gust, to be carefree again. Caelian closed his eyes, let the susurrus of leaves wash over him for a moment. He almost imagined them talking to one another, or to him. A silly notion, but one he’d always enjoyed. With a soft smile, he knelt and traced his hand along a polished brass plaque. It read:

LTJG Kendra Amber Weir
28102.3 - 53645.7
Beloved Daughter and Comrade

“I got in, sis.” Caelian sighed, setting a fresh carnation on the plaque. They had always been her favorite. “Papa’s proud as all get-out. Mamma, too, though I think she’s scared. She has no reason to be. I’ll be fine. I know what you’ll say, that I need to look after myself first.”

He choked on a thought, dashed away foolish notions with the back of his hand. “I won’t be back for a while, but I wanted you to know that I love you, sis. Keep an eye on Papa for me. You know how he gets when he’s in his moods. I’d ask you to watch over Mamma, but she can take care of herself. I’ll be back as soon as I can, I promise. I miss you.”

His fingers lingered on the plaque’s mirrored surface, seemed almost glued to it. Kendra’s passing had been one of the reasons he’d hesitated to apply to Starfleet. It had also been the thing that helped hold his father together after the accident—a mystery that bonded Mikal and Caelian so closely together. In many ways it still ate at him, haunted his dreams. Starfleet had pronounced it a “rogue atmospheric anomaly,” a freak accident that plucked the shuttle from the sky. He had been too young to understand, and there hadn’t been enough left of the craft to doubt the claim.

Perhaps it was why Mikal had been such a good engineer, why he had dutifully and patiently answered Caelian’s every technical question. Some might say it was Kendra’s death that had set Caelian on the path to becoming an engineer in his own right. He shrugged inwardly. To be honest, it would be up to Starfleet to determine his path now.

That was fine by him.

---

It was a shock to step from the shuttle and onto the deck of the cargo bay. Caelian was quite sure he looked much like a fish, gawping at the size of the Discovery-class ship as they had approached. The Venture hadn’t been nearly as big, nor had he been anything but a civilian. With the USS Challenger it was different. There was expectation, purpose. The weight of duty pressed down on him almost immediately. He tried to shrug it off. Likely it was just the artificial gravity, not so much different than on Earth but still palpable. Hitching up his travel bag, he followed some of the other crew members deeper into the ship.

It took a few chagrined queries before Caelian got his bearings. The design specs and simulations hadn’t prepared him for this, and it was a little overwhelming. The fact that he was in Starfleet was still sinking in! An ensign took pity on him on the turbolift and walked him to the door of his commanding officer. Nodding his thanks to the woman, he poked his head in briefly. When he was certain that he wasn’t interrupting, Caelian strode up to the officer’s desk and snapped to attention.

“Cadet Caelian Weir, reporting as ordered, sir.”

-Caelian Weir, Engineer

As Weir entered the Chief Engineers office, his senses were overwhelmed with sweltering heat and humidity. Across the room sat Zenzgii’s chair with is back facing the entry way, it seemed for a moment Weirs voice activated some kind of trigger as the room flooded with the sound of french horns booming. Possibly something from earth nineteenth century? Akira Ifukube?
As the opening notes faded into obscurity, the speakers let out a tremendous roar. “RRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAwwwwwwwRRR!!” Out from a closet came a Viridian colored Saurian silently mimmicing the beasts cry. Slowly he meandered out with deliberate footfalls as he swayed side to side.
A second roar, “RRRRRRAAAAAAAwwwwRRR!!” Bellowed from the audio system as Zenzgii mimic’d it once more. Extending his clawed hands he swiped slowly over his desk and snatched up what looked like a stick of celery that mercilessly met its end at methodical chomping. Pausing, Zenzgii shot straight up and blinked not one but two sets of eyelids. His large obsidian like eyes regarded the cadet for a moment while he chewed, the corners of his mouth curved into a perpetual like smile. “Computer, end program..” The music fell to silence.
“… You’re… about ten minutes early, well since you’re already here take a seat. We can bask in this overwhelming aura of embarrassment and shame together.” Zenzgii seemed to chuckle as he spun his chair around and sat down.

“How was the trip? Never the biggest fan of bright lighting, warp fields aren’t the kindest on Nocturnal creatures eyes.” He said, a moment later his large gecko like tongue extended out over his lips and cleaned one of his eyes. “As you have noticed, its a bit of a tropical jungle in here. After you’ve had a moment to take a load off i’d like to administer an evaluation. Don’t worry, its not going to determine if you are cleaning out holodeck filtration systems or anything like that; however, an engineer is required to keep calm under pressure. Often you will be expected to make a Monet, but are offered colored pencils to make it happen. Also, in an unrealistic time frame. When you’re ready I’ll issue you a single field kit and your instructions.”

-K’sang, CE

(OOC)(( OUTSTANDING INTRO! Some of this would really have a great home in your character Bio, it gives a very real visual of your character’s personality traits. With that being said, keep in mind that just like spice. You can give it too much and actually overwhelm other players, not everyone has the same talent for writing as you do. Giving an entire prologue for example might cause some people to avoid your amazing skill or feel pressured into discomfort.

Okay, what i’d like to do from here is enhance our dialogue, at times when writing in a post with several other people. You may see what looks like a sentence error. Or deliberate space for someone to add an environmental change to the thread. EX:
“… You’re… about ten minutes early, well since you’re already here take a seat. We can bask in this overwhelming aura of embarrassment and shame together.” Zenzgii seemed to chuckle as he spun his chair around and sat down.

“How was the trip? Never the biggest fan of bright lighting, warp fields aren’t the kindest on Nocturnal creatures eyes.” He said, a moment later his large gecko like tongue extended out …
I left an intentional space here so that you can interact by taking a seat or taking another action without interrupting the flow of dialogue in addition to your posting. What i’d like to see, is if you can add a new sentence to paragraph in that open space while also getting ready for your first task as an engineer. :D
Finally, you want to sign you posts and take ownership of your postings. No Tuxedo Mask here Yo, It doesn’t have to be fancy even something like” Caelian, Engineer ” is great ))