New Engineer

Posted on Sat Jan 31st, 2026 @ 4:32pm by Petty Officer 1st Class Kaelen Jax & Commander Cornelius 'Kit' Hanlon

2,780 words; about a 14 minute read

Mission: Prologue: To Boldly Go
Location: USS Fenrir, XO's Office
Timeline: MD 14, post-launch

[ON]

Commander Kit Hanlon had taken the time to sit and read the service record of the newest addition to Engineering. They had only been underway to their new coordinates for a day, but in that day there had been enough time for him to breathe, have a proper nap, and do this....reading up on those he had not had time to meet before they launched.

PO1 Kaelen Jax.

He read the name again before tapping his thumb against the side of the PADD, watching the soft scroll of text. Environmental systems specialist, with a solid record and no fanfare. The kind of person who kept a ship breathing without ever stepping into the spotlight. Kit had a soft spot for that type. People who showed up, did the job, and made it better without needing a parade for it.

The file gave more than most did. Enlisted young. Left Betazed for Risa. Not because of rebellion, but because the noise had been too much. He could picture it...the strain of constantly hearing everyone’s expectations layered like static. Some people needed silence to figure out who they were. Jax had gone looking for it in systems and pipes, in oxygen levels and hydroponic airflow.

Kit read the commendations, the medical notes, the phrases that stood out. Low resting heart rate, stayed calm in chaos, fixed systems others panicked around. He set the PADD down and leaned back slightly, a thoughtful look in his eyes. This was someone used to being the balance in Engineering. He respected that. And he had come from another Norway-class...that was useful.

And Kit, being Kit, had already arranged for the Petty Officer to report to his office. Since he knew that Command staff could put a bit of a dampener on things, he had attached that this was just an informal welcome-on-board chat.

Hopefully, that would calm any potential nerves...even if he suspected Jax didn’t get nervous around officers.

Kaelen stood outside the Commander’s office, adjusting the hem of his utility blue tunic. He took a slow, deliberate breath, savouring the 52% humidity he’d managed to sneak into the atmospheric mix earlier that morning. It was a small comfort, but it helped anchor him.

He could feel the Commander inside before the door even slid open. It wasn't an intrusive sensation, Kaelen was far too disciplined for that, but rather a general "weather pattern" of the man’s mind. It felt stable. Thoughtful. A bit like the low-frequency hum of a well-tuned warp core.

The chime rang, and Kaelen stepped inside.

"Petty Officer Jax, reporting as ordered, Sir," Kaelen said. His voice was calm, carrying that signature Risan softness, though his posture remained Starfleet-straight.

His solid black Betazoid eyes settled on Commander Hanlon, taking in the man's presence. Kaelen didn't need telepathy to see the PADD on the desk; he knew his own file was likely the current topic of study. Most officers looked at his "Joined at 16" date and assumed he was a runaway or a burnout. He wondered what Hanlon saw.

"Thank you for the 'informal' tag on the message, Commander," Kaelen added, a slight, genuine smile touching his lips, the kind of smile that usually de-escalated a room before a word was spoken. "On a Norway-class, usually when the XO calls an NCO, it means a plasma conduit has burst or someone’s been caught brewing Risan ale in the Jefferies tubes. It’s nice to be here for neither."

He stood at ease, his empathic sense picking up the Commander's curiosity. Kaelen didn't find it threatening. In fact, compared to the sharp, jagged anxiety of the younger crewmen he’d been supervising all morning, Hanlon’s office felt like a much needed pocket of silence.

"I’ve spent the morning recalibrating the scrubbers on Deck 4, Sir. The Fenrir has a bit of a stubborn intake valve in the secondary array, but she’s breathing easier now. I think we’ll get along just fine."

"Sounds you've been busy," Hanlon said and motioned to the seat. "Take a seat. And since we've just been retrofitted, I expect smaller things like that to happen. Old and new will always spar with each other. At least you took care of those on deck 4." He raised an eyebrow, but it was good natured. "Just make sure the Chief knows what's going on. We're still settling into a rhythm and I think until we're all flowing well, better to over-inform than comms silence."

Kaelen offered a slow, appreciative nod as he sat, his movements fluid and unhurried. He didn't miss the slight lift of the Commander’s eyebrow. He knew the "Deck 4 humidity adjustment" had been noticed, and he was grateful the XO was taking it as a sign of initiative rather than a breach of protocol.

"Of course, Sir. I’ll make sure the Chief gets a full readout of the atmospheric tweaks by the end of shift," Kaelen replied, his tone warm. "I’ve found that the older bio-filters on these ships actually perform better when they aren't working in a desert. If we can find that 'flow' you mentioned, the hardware usually follows suit."

He leaned back slightly, his jet-black eyes fixed on Hanlon with a calm intensity. Being 75% Betazoid meant he was naturally attuned to the subtext of the conversation, and he could feel the Commander’s genuine respect for the "silent" workers of the ship. It made the air in the office feel even easier to breathe.

"The sparring between old and new systems is actually a hobby of mine, Commander. My grandfather used to say a ship's systems are like a crew, everyone has a different baseline, and they all need a bit of time to stop shouting over each other. I see my job as helping them find a common language."

Kaelen paused, his expression turning a bit more thoughtful. "I’ve spent nine years in the 'Lower Decks' of ships just like the Fenrir. If there’s a rattle in the primary conduits or a tension in the air among the enlisted, I’ll likely feel it before the computer flags it. If you’re looking for 'over-informing,' I can promise you that. I’d rather we catch a tremor before it becomes a quake."

He smiled again, a subtle, confident expression. "Is there anything specific regarding the crew's morale or the ship's current 'rhythm' that you’re concerned about, Sir? Or am I just here to make sure you know the air is in good hands?"

Kit looked at him, and there was a small moment where he almost looked amused. At the confidence. Had he ever been that confident? He wasn't sure. As an Engineer, sure. As a person...no. Not like this. Not this confident, not this smooth. "Well...I have made a point of trying to meet every single person serving on this ship. And that includes more than just the officers," he said, giving a nod. "Not just to welcome you on the ship, but to see what you need. Career progression...where you want to go in the future. All that."

Kaelen leaned back slightly, his grandfather’s wrench, tucked into a side pocket of his utility trousers, shifted with a soft, metallic clink. He watched the Commander, his black eyes unblinking but warm. He could sense that flicker of amusement in Kit, a momentary comparison between their paths. It was a common reaction; people often mistook Kaelen’s telepathic "calm" for arrogance, but it was really just the lack of internal clutter.

"I appreciate that, Sir. Most officers see the Enlisted as the 'support' for the mission. It’s nice to be reminded we’re part of the crew, too," Kaelen said, his voice dropping into a more personal, conversational register.

He looked at his hands for a moment, hands that were calloused and stained with the faint, persistent grey of conduit lubricant, then back at Hanlon.

"As for where I’m going... I’m exactly where I want to be. I know my file says I’ve been a PO1 for a while, and most people assume I’m gunning for Chief. And I am, eventually. But I’m not looking for a bridge station or a department head’s desk. I like the 'down-and-in,' Commander. I like being the one who knows how a ship smells when the CO2 scrubbers are at 98% instead of 100%."

He paused, a more thoughtful expression crossing his sun-kissed features.

"If you're asking about career progression, my ambition is to make the Fenrir the most efficient Norway-class in the fleet. I want to prove that a ship this size can have the same air quality as a Risan resort if you treat the systems right. But as for me? I’m a lifer. I joined at sixteen because the stars were quieter than the cities. I’m just looking for a good Captain, a solid XO, and a ship that needs a steady hand on the pulse."

He tilted his head slightly, his empathic sense catching that Kit wasn't just asking out of duty, he actually cared.

"But since you asked what I need... keep the Chief off my back when I start growing moss on the bulkhead of the secondary garden. It’s a natural bio-filter, but it tends to make the traditionalists a bit twitchy."

Hanlon's eyebrows rose at that, tilting his head. "No, I know the concept of a green bulkheads...moss, you say?" he sat back, considering it. "I know the use of devil's ivy has done well on civilian freighters in time. But...moss on a Starfleet vessel?" he let out a breath, not because he needed it but because he was seeing the shape of it all. "Write it up, pass it to your Chief and the Captain."

Kaelen couldn't help the slight, knowing tilt of his head. He recognized the skepticism—it was the same look he’d received from three different Chief Engineers across three different ships. Most officers looked at moss and saw something that belonged in a swamp; Kaelen looked at it and saw the most efficient biological processor the Federation had ever overlooked.

"Not just any moss, Sir," Kaelen corrected gently, his solid black eyes fixed on Hanlon with a calm intensity. "A genetically modified strain of Bryophyta from the Risan highlands. It has a surface area-to-volume ratio that puts standard carbon-silica scrubbers to shame. It doesn't just recycle CO2; it traps microscopic particulate matter and regulates ambient moisture levels naturally."

He shifted his weight, his grandfather’s old wrench hanging from a loop on his trousers, a physical reminder of his grounded, enlisted perspective.

"Starfleet likes machines because you can turn them off and on with a subroutine. But machines fail when the power grid spikes. Moss just keeps breathing as long as there’s light. On a Norway-class, where space and power are always at a premium, it’s a redundant system that pays for itself in six months."

Kaelen offered a small, respectful nod. He appreciated Hanlon’s openness, on some ships, an NCO suggesting "we put plants in the walls" would have been laughed out of the office.

"I’ll have the formal proposal on your desk by the end of the second watch, Commander. I’ve already mapped out the conduit runs on Deck 4 where we can integrate the moisture-capture trays without interfering with the primary EPS leads. It’ll look like a vertical garden, but it’ll function like a secondary lung."

He paused, his empathy picking up the lingering curiosity from the Commander.

"And if the Captain asks," he added with a hint of a Risan grin, "it also happens to be a very effective sound-dampener. Engineering might actually become the quietest place on the ship."

Kit listened without interrupting, fingers loosely laced on the desk as Kaelen finished. The explanation had the familiar cadence of someone who had thought this through long before they’d stepped into the office. Not chasing approval, just laying the logic out and trusting it to stand on its own. “I follow your thinking,” he said after a moment, nodding once to reinforce it. “Passive redundancy, low power demand, systems that keep doing their job when everything else decides to sulk. I’ve seen worse ideas get approved with half the groundwork you’ve already done.” He sat back a little, eyes going from the man to the drawing of the ship he had in his office...and the schematics hanging on the wall of the warp core. “Fenrir’s a grand dame in a new dress. She’s been asked to be something she wasn’t originally built for, peace, exploration, long steady legs instead of sharp sprints. That always means a bit of friction between the old bones and the new fittings.”

His eyes went back to Kaelen, steady and clear, but there was now a bit more seriousness. “That said, this isn’t my call. It’s the Captain’s ship, and it’s the Chief Engineer’s department. They’re the ones who’ll decide whether moss ends up in the walls or stays on a PADD. My job is to make sure good ideas get heard properly and don’t die because someone didn’t like the word ‘unconventional’.” He let out a breath before he nodded, and for a moment he looked...not tired. Just warned. “I recognise your type. I used to be one of you. The engineers who listen to a ship so closely they forget to listen to themselves. Fenrir doesn’t need you burned out three months in because you’ve been doing everyone else’s job as well as your own... this is me being very clear. Work your assigned shifts. No more, unless the department actually needs you. If something’s wrong, raise it. If it can wait, it waits. A steady hand lasts longer than a heroic one.” Then, with an easy smile that took any sting out of it, he added: “If we’re going to keep this ship breathing easy, I’d quite like you doing the same.”

Kaelen listened, his jet-black eyes fixed on the Commander. He felt the weight behind Hanlon's words, not the weight of a superior pulling rank, but the seasoned gravity of someone who had walked the same oily deck plates and felt the same bone deep exhaustion. The "heroic hand" vs. the "steady hand." It was a distinction his grandfather had often made, usually while prying a younger Kaelen out of a maintenance hatch long after his shift had ended.

"I hear you, Commander," Kaelen said, his voice quiet but carrying a note of genuine appreciation. "And I appreciate the perspective. It’s... easy to get caught up in the rhythm of the engines and forget that the biological components need downtime as much as the mechanical ones."

He shifted his weight, his empathy picking up that trace of weary wisdom from Hanlon. It grounded Kaelen. On a ship this size, the temptation to be everywhere at once was a constant siren song, especially for a Betazoid who could feel every spike of frustration from a malfunctioning replicator.

"I'll stick to my rotations, Sir. I’ve found that the moss tends to grow better when I’m not hovering over it, anyway. I’ll get that proposal to the Chief and the Captain by the end of my watch, and then I'll make a point of finding a quiet corner of the Mess Hall or maybe the holodeck to just... breathe."

He stood up, offering a respectful nod that felt less like a formal salute and more like an acknowledgment between two people who understood the ship’s soul.

"The Fenrir has good bones, Sir. If we treat her right, she’ll do the same for us. I’ll make sure my reports are as steady as my shifts."

Kaelen paused at the door, a faint, dry smile returning to his face. "And thank you, Sir. For making sure 'unconventional' isn't a four-letter word in this office. It makes the air in here a lot easier to breathe."

"Good," Hanlon said as he looked at him, considering something. And then dismissing it. Time would tell and he would never punish anyone for enthusiasm. And he could do without the formality of dismissing a fellow Engineer...no, he understood the energy. "I'll talk to you soon, Mister Jax."

OFF:

Commander Kit Hanlon
First Officer
USS Fenrir

&

Petty Officer 1st Class Kaelen Jax
Engineering Officer
USS Fenrir

 

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