Counselor's Check-In for Caelian Weir

Posted Nov. 22, 2020, 4:17 p.m. by Ensign Caelian Weir (Engineering Officer) (Jason Wolfe)

Posted by Ensign Caelian Weir (Engineering Officer) in Counselor’s Check-In for Caelian Weir

Posted by Lieutenant Junior Grade Mazhari Allendor (Engineering Officer) in Counselor’s Check-In for Caelian Weir

Posted by Ensign Caelian Weir (Engineering Officer) in Counselor’s Check-In for Caelian Weir
Posted by… suppressed (3) by the Post Ghost! 👻

The doors to his quarters hushed closed behind him, cutting off the muted tones of the hall completely. He lingered in the entry for a moment, embraced by the silence of his quarters. True, he could still hear the hum of the ship’s systems and the purr of the ventilation systems overhead. Caelian took a few slow breaths to calm his heart, let his mind still. Despite the conveniently-routed turbolifts aboard the Ark Angel some sections still required quite a walk. He’d found himself wandering the halls after his visit to Sickbay to get a more accurate sense of where things were. He’d had the time to do it, after all.

Opening his eyes, Caelian scanned his new home for the foreseeable future. Like the ship itself, his personal quarters were spacious—easily twice the size of his quarters aboard the Challenger. The furnishings were what he liked to think of as “Starfleet chic”: sparse, functional, tasteful, and casually neutral. Caelian mused that if he blindfolded himself and wandered into another room, he’d be able to navigate the floor plan flawlessly. He playfully imagined an industrial replicator tucked away in some dark corner of the shipyards happily regurgitating the same design over and over for every ship Starfleet produced.

His crate of personal effects still rested by the door where it had been transported, the lid tipped open so that he could visually inspect the contents. He’d taken the time to set out a few important pieces—the holoframe of his family and friends back on Earth, his battered toolkit, and the lacquered box his mother had given him before he departed for the Academy. The rest he’d left for later when he had a bit of time to settle in. Now, he supposed, though there were still important matters that would take him away from his quarters eventually. Making the Ark Angel his home would take time, he knew; it wasn’t going to happen in an instant, or even in a day.

Ignoring the large windows opposite him with a rather nauseating view of open space, Caelian knelt and poked through his things. He smiled to himself as his knuckles bumped into a smaller metal container. It took a bit of doing to extract, but it eventually came to rest on his lap. Had it always been so heavy? Caelian gave its contents a cursory examination before he sealed it shut again and stood. Swallowing down the bile seething in his core, the ensign glared balefully at the exterior windows.

“First things first,” he grumbled, clenching his jaw and striding purposefully forward.

Scrubbing the back of a hand across his stubbled chin, Caelian nodded at his handiwork. With a press of an activator, the narrow holo-emitters sizzled to life. The photon field fluctuated briefly, but a quick adjustment took care of the issue. He closed his eyes and counted to ten, listening to the field’s hum until it passed beyond the upper ranges of his hearing. He prayed and peeked… and found himself letting out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

The windows to his quarters no longer assaulted him with the vertigo of endless night. Pale clouds drifted lazily past the viewport, illusory surf crashing blithely against the Ark Angel’s hull. While the image did not fool his logical mind, it helped to ease the disorientation gnawing at the pit of his stomach. His friends back home had laughed when he’d mentioned his desire to enter Starfleet, jeered that his fear of unobstructed heights would get the better of him. After nearly failing his zero-gee training, he’d almost been inclined to agree. It had been little tricks like this, inspired by professors and other mentors, that had allowed him to pursue his career.

A chime brought his attention away from the emitters. “Personal reminder alert,” the computer’s voice announced dryly, “Fifteen minutes remaining until counselor appointment.”

“Thank you,” he replied reflexively as he closed the emitter’s storage box and pushed it aside. Caelian barked a laugh, added, “A job well-done, Computer.”

An automated squelch soured the mood. “Unable to process command. Please rephrase.”

“I-I didn’t… Ugh. Computer, disregard.” He rolled his eyes as the automated voice silently obliged.

The turbolift door opened and Caelian stepped off, muttering apologies to the senior officers waiting to get on. A quick check of the chronometer on a nearby readout sent his blood pressure into his throat. He was going to be late! He picked up the pace a bit to make up for his error in judgment, hoping that he wouldn’t run afoul of another knot of medical technicians deep in debate over the worst rash they’d seen. Thankfully the counselor’s office was easy enough to find, had been one of the routes he’d practiced walking in-simulation. He stopped before the door, hands on his knees while he caught his breath. Once he was reasonably certain fainting wasn’t a threat, he tapped the call button and waited.

“Please no jungle,” he whispered to himself. “Please, please no jungle. Please no jungle.”
—Caelian Weir, Ensign—

Mazi had been jogging around the deck earlier and was now on her walk back to her quarters, albeit a more circuitous route than necessary, to cool off. Coming around the corner, she spotted the anxious new Ensign in front of the Counselor’s door. As she was about to greet him, she caught the whispered prayer. It didn’t take a Betazoid to sense his anxiety. “It’s all right,” a soft voice said just behind and to his left. “I can almost assure you one hundred percent that there is no jungle in there.”

When he turned, the new engineer would see an Andorian female, lightly scratching her forehead in front of her antennae which seemed canted towards him in curiosity. She was a half breed, but one couldn’t usually tell by looking at her. “Though if you don’t like jungles, you may want to steer clear of the main Arboretum. Though the lower deck Arboretum, number 3 I think it’s called, is a much calmer, almost garden like setting. If you are looking for a more Earth like place to settle sometime.” Her blond hair was pulled back in a sloppy pony tail. The mass of curls, tinted with light blue highlights, was barely tamed by the toggle holding it back. She wore a sapphire tank top that hugged her upper body with perfect fit and complimented her skin tone of lighter blue, while enhancing her eyes. Her lower body seemed to be in direct contrast to her upper body. Instead of tight fitting leggings the ladies preferred on the ship, she was in a pair of loose gray drawstring sweat pants. They did nothing complimentary to her body and made one sometimes wonder why she hid herself. Her deep blue, nearly black, running shoes completed the of outfit.

She reached out her hand smiling, eyes of a deep forest green taking him in as she spoke, “I’m Allendor… Mazhari Allendor. You can call me Mazi. I’m guessing we’ll be working together. I’m an engineer as well.” She had purposefully left off her rank so she didn’t startle the man more than he already seemed. A skittish mentality before seeing the Counselor was never a good thing.

Lt JG Mazhari Allendor

Dinui walked to the doorway of her office and grinned up at the pair in front of her. “Good afternoon and sorry for the wait, please come in.” she had been moving her bonsai plants and painting kit around but had miscalculated the counter-balance on one of the shelves and had been rushing to clean up the resulting mess. Ten small trees didn’t mean a jungle in her book. The platter of fresh croissants was ready and up for offering.

  • Dinui ix’Indrai, Counselor

Caelian blinked up at the Andorian woman as she rattled off the information regarding the arboretum, his mouth slightly agape. He hadn’t realized he’d been speaking that loudly. The flustered ensign coughed and scratched the stubble on his chin to hide his embarassment, nodding along until she finished. He’d only seen an Andorian once during an excavation of Taynar III, had never spoken to one. This one—Mazi, was it? That sounded right. He’d gotten a little lost in the verbal barrage—this one appeared different than the ones he’d seen. Was there a caste system to their species, or was that a different species?

“H-how did you…?” he stammered, shaking her hand politely. Something clicked and Caelian barked a laugh. “Right, the uniform. Thanks for the, uh, information, Ms Mazi.”

Fate, ever the kind and nurturing spirit, decided to lovingly apply salt to his already-wounded pride by opening the door to the counselor’s office. Another Andorian grinned blithely at him, invited the flustered ensign in. A faint aroma of something fresly baked wafted from the office to tease a low rumble from the beast lurking in Caelian’s midsection. Never had he ever felt a greater desire to just fold in on himself and disappear.

“Nice meeting you, then,” he sighed at Mazhari through a smile before turning and dragging the tatters of his dignity past the amused counselor. And the day had started off so well, too.

Humility is good for the soul, figlio mio, he could almost hear his father say. Keeps your head from getting too big for the Jefferies tubes, ha!

Caelian swallowed back a hot retort crawling up his throat, slapped on a polite smile as he waited for the counselor. With any luck, he’d crawl out of the hole he’d found himself in. His stomach grumbled mockingly at him.

“Any place you’d like me to sit, miss?” he sighed.
—Caelian Weir, Ensign—

Mazi smiled, trying not to make the poor guy more uncomfortable. “It’s all right.” She noticed his stammer and felt bad she was the cause of it. When the Counselor arrived, she nodded. “Ma’am.” Glancing back at Cel, her eyes softened slightly and she cocked her head to the side. “I’m sure I’ll see you around.” She left as he stepped thru the door, her smile being the last thing Cel would see before disappearing into the office before she turned to continue down the hall.


[bumped again]

Posts on USS Ark Angel

In topic

Posted since

© 1991-2021 STF. Terms of Service

Version 1.12.2