Chief Engineer, meet...err...

Posted on Wed Jun 25th, 2025 @ 12:08pm by Lieutenant Commander Jalay Prinnet & Lieutenant JG Elen Rell

1,879 words; about a 9 minute read

Mission: Prologue
Location: Engineering, USS Guinevere
Timeline: Febuary 2388

Elen Rell was tidying.

No...she was strategically evacuating.

The Chief Engineer’s office, which she had occupied in a state somewhere between “temporary stewardship” and “chaotic neutral nesting,” was suddenly, urgently, not hers anymore. And that meant the small avalanche of PADDs, two different types of tea mugs (one chipped, one outrageously floral), a ball of glitter yarn, three abandoned start-ups on different knitting projects, and, for some reason, half-assembled warp field stabiliser model had to disappear. Fast.

She moved with purpose, sweeping the desk like it was a warp conduit under deadline. Everything not nailed down was stuffed into her emergency satchel: which was, thankfully, bigger on the inside and already half full of miscellaneous engineering life debris. A stray sock? In. Her favourite decoupler with the green handle she had painstakingly painted herself and insisted was “lucky”? In. A PADD that wasn’t technically hers? She squinted. …Also in.

She yanked the tapestry off the wall behind the desk, a stylised Martian sunset, folded it (badly), and shoved it atop the chaos, before sealing the bag and giving the room a critical once-over. It still looked like someone had lived in here, but maybe now it said “dedicated officer” and not “gremlin squatter with a caffeine addiction.”

She inhaled through her nose, sharp and quick. Exhaled. Good. This was fine. She liked the office, sure, but she loved being in the guts of the ship more. Being Acting Chief had meant reports, briefings, responsibility that sat high and awkward on her shoulders at such a low rank. Acting Assistant meant she could get her hands dirty again. And stars above, she’d missed that.

Prinett Jalay.

That was the name.

A Bajoran. That was all she knew. No idea what kind of engineer she was, or what sort of Chief she’d be. But Elen intended to meet her with a clean desk, an open mind, and absolutely no visible crochet projects.

Well. Maybe one.

A small one. For luck.

She adjusted her uniform, smoothed the sleeves down over her crocheted cuffs, and straightened up just as she heard the soft whoosh of Engineering’s main doors open.

Time to hand over the reins. She stepped outside the office, her eyes going to the woman that entered.

For a Lieutenant Commander with decades of experience--none of it in Starfleet--Jalay Prinett walked with a noticable lack of confidence. Her shoulders hunched and her eyes always in motion, she looked more like she was walking into a shady bar and scanning for potential threats than the head of a department on a perfectly safe starship.

Eventually, her darting eyes reached Rell and made an obvious calculation that she was leaving the Chief Engineer's office. After completing her preliminary scan of Engineering, she resettled her eyes on the Lieutenant and approached. "So, you're the one that the Commodore warned me about, right?" She asked with a neutral tone.

Elen blinked at the greeting, her brain catching the words "warned me about" before it fully clocked the tone.

“Oh I hope so,” she replied with a laugh, the sound bright and entirely unbothered. “Would hate to think there’s another chaos gremlin in Engineering stealing my thunder.”

Her grin was quick and lopsided, all good humour and no offence taken. Then, after a breath, she tilted her head, studying the new Chief just a little more closely...she seemed a bit wary, a bit tense. But maybe that was just her or Elen was projecting. It was the vibe she got though from her though.

“Lieutenant Junior Grade Elen Rell,” she said more gently, tucking her hands behind her back in what might almost pass for Starfleet decorum. “I’ve been keeping the chair warm until your arrival. Welcome aboard, Lieutenant Commander.”

There was a pause...short, but intentional.

“You’re gonna find she’s a good ship,” she added, voice lower now, fond and a little steadier. “Bit quirky. Bit of a diva. But she responds well to kind hands and solid instincts. Which I’m guessing you’ve got in spades.” A beat, considering her own words. Then, back to her usual smile, this one with a spark behind it. “Can I offer you a cup of tea before I hand you the keys to the warp core?”

Jalay marveled at the strangest Starfleet officer she had met so far in her short time in the service. She was immediately reminded of her fellow fighters from the Kaval Resistance Cell--people who didn't fit a textbook definition of engineer, or pilot, or doctor, but contributed wherever they could, bringing with them all of the quirks that a military education was supposed to flatten out. This junior Lieutenant seemed to have preserved her innate personality far better than most of the very serious Starfleet personnel that Jalay had encountered so far. She recalled what Commodore McEntyre had told her about Rell being chaotic, yet an effective engineer. Perhaps there was room for personality in Starfleet after all. Eventually, she remembered that she was the senior officer, so she said, "At ease, and yes, I'd like that. I'd ask you to lead me to the mess hall, but something tells me you have a closer connection for this tea?"

Elen's grin widened, the kind that said I’ve got this, and turned on her heel without waiting for formalities. “Oh, I definitely do,” she said, disappearing into the office with the air of someone fulfilling a quiet tradition, clearly expecting Jalay to follow. The Bajoran woman did, a bemused smile on her face.

From the satchel, still warm with the barely-contained chaos of its contents, she produced a slightly dented tin, the kind of thing that had clearly seen transport, time, and tenderness. Hand-labelled in fading ink: 'Lemon balm, white tea, ginger: good for nerves and warp core recalibrations.' Then a second mug joined the first, both mismatched, but clean, solid, and clearly loved.

“No replicator fakery except the water,” she called as she moved to the replicator. She got a carafe of water, hot just below boiling, and a teapot. “This is real tea. Martian-settler style. You don’t offer tea to a guest, you make it. Neighbours were friends, family, crewmates...sometimes all at once. We didn’t ask, we just always had an extra cup on the table.”

Something about the term Martian-settler style activated a vague memory inside Jalay's head. A news report from a few years ago about an attack on Mars, or a natural disaster, something like that? She'd been onboard a Bajoran patrol frigate at the time and not plugged in to the Federation news cycle, so she'd not read beyond the headline. Was this Lieutenant Elen Rell also from a world in recovery? Prinnet decided not to ask, for the moment--there would be time for that later, after they knew each other better.

Rell turned back and put the kettle and the hot water on the desk, taking her time to measure the tea into the pot and then pour the hot water over. She put the strainer ready and took a seat, not the Chief's, but one of the ones in front of the desk. “Anyway, it’s good tea. Calms the nerves without knocking you out. Tastes like sun-warmed metal and making it through a long shift in one piece.”

She looked over at Jalay, her tone light but entirely sincere. “Welcome aboard, Chief.”

"Thank you, former Acting Chief. And, at least until the Executive Officer or the Commodore tells me otherwise, I think your expertise with the Guinevere makes you my new acting assistant chief." She hadn't planned to start handing out titles this early in her tenure on board--her shuttle had docked perhaps fifteen minutes previously--but her instincts told her that this humanoid would help smooth her transition into Starfleet far more than she would hinder it.

Elen looked at her with wide eyes, then broke into a grin. “Well, if you want me there, I’ll be your matter-antimatter intermix chamber...” she said brightly...then paused, blinking. “I mean... err... I’ve got your back.”

As if realising she'd just said a bit more than she’d meant to, she dipped her hand into the satchel at her side, fingers rustling through yarn and PADDs as she leaned forward at a slightly awkward angle...like the bag might somehow rescue her from her own sentiment. She came up with a small crocheted char...just a rough little starburst in golden yarn, a few strands of metallic thread woven through the centre. “For luck,” she said, offering it with a slightly sheepish smile. “Goes well with warp cores. Or new ships.”

Jalay took the piece in her hands and studied it. She recognized a handmade piece when she saw one. Back when Talumna was still the Talumna Ghetto and quality textiles rarely made it into Bajoran shops, hand-working fibers into clothing became a matter of necessity. She'd had many crocheted pieces growing up, although none with shiny metallic elements. Everything at that time had been made to be practical--socks, shawls, sweaters. Nothing wasted. This was decorative, but Prinnet's heart rebelled at the idea of calling it a waste. Other than her religious artifacts, she hadn't brought more than a drawerful of personal items aboard the ship. Even two decades after Cardassian occupation, old habits of traveling light and not treasuring physical possessions ran deep.

She decided she treasured this physical possession. The Chief Engineer's office was largely a blank slate, and she was sure that she'd find a better place for it eventually, but for now, she propped it up on a desk terminal's screen. "For luck," she echoed, her voice deeper with emotion than she'd expected. "Thank you, Rell."

Elen didn’t speak at first. Just… watched.

Not the kind of watching that filled silence, but the kind that held it gently. Carefully. She recognised that look..the catch of breath, the weight behind a moment that didn’t quite find words. She’d seen it on Mars, seen it in her dad…and lately, even here.

So she adjusted. Not with anything abrupt, but with the quiet kind of shift; the softening of her shoulders, the bright edge in her eyes dimming into something steadier. It took effort. It always took effort to ground herself when her mind and mouth wanted different things. But she did it.

She reached for the teapot...not saying anything, just started pouring. Like it was a known truth that the moment needed anchoring. Two mismatched mugs. Pale steam curled between them like breath in cold air. The scent rose with it: calming. Familiar. Comfort, as Elen understood it.

“Tea doesn’t ask questions,” she said, voice lighter than silence, heavier than a joke. “Just shows up. Like us, I guess.”

She slid the mug across the desk. Not insistently. Just there.

And then, after a beat, with a crooked, earnest smile: “You’re welcome, Chief.”

Prinnet did, in fact, feel welcome.

---

Lieutenant Commander Jalay Prinnet
Chief Engineer
U.S.S. Guinevere

Lt. JG Elen Rell
Acting Assistant Chief Engineer
USS Guinevere

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