Senior Chief Petty Officer Rufio Dulay
Name Rufio Quintin Yujeco Dulay
Position Support Craft Pilot
Rank Senior Chief Petty Officer
Character Information
| Gender | Male | |
| Species | Human | |
| Age | 37 |
Physical Appearance
| Height | 5' 10" | |
| Weight | 165 lbs | |
| Hair Color | Black | |
| Eye Color | Brown | |
| Physical Description | Rufio stands about 5’10” with a lean, wiry build that reads “pilot fit”—steady hands, strong forearms, and an easy economy of movement. Black hair is kept short for the flight line, framing warm brown eyes with faint smile lines at the corners. He rarely looks pristine; calloused palms and the occasional grease-smudge on his knuckles betray a day spent around access panels. On duty he’s squared-away in a flight suit and scuffed bay boots, tools clipped where they should be; off duty it’s simple tees or work shirts, utility trousers, and a well-worn jacket, wedding band always on. His default expression is calm and alert, like he’s already planning the landing. No prominent scars or tattoos are on file—what stands out instead is the grounded, approachable way he carries himself, the kind of presence that settles a cockpit before wheels-up. |
Family
| Spouse | Chrisanna Dulay Calm, grounded, and practical with a dry sense of humour—the ballast to Rufio’s “let me try something” streak. Works in civilian logistics for a Federation starport vendor (procurement & scheduling) which fits her knack for order and explains why she and Rufio often juggle long-distance comms windows. Loves old holo-cookbooks and hosts “family dinner” over subspace when deployments run long. |
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| Children | Valentine Dulay A curious, big-picture thinker—collects flight patches, sketches starships, asks the kind of questions that stall grown-ups Joel Dulay The empath of the pair, happiest with headphones on, learning chords from Lolo Lamont; he mails Rufio short audio logs instead of letters. The kids know the routine: “green light” days mean live calls; “amber” days mean recorded messages. |
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| Father | Lamont Dulay A gigging guitarist/arranger with a lifetime of late nights and brighter mornings, Lamont is the family’s archivist of songs and stories from the Philippines. He measures time in set lists and safe landings; he taught Rufio rhythm before math, which is probably why Rufio talks about throttle like tempo. |
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| Mother | Tanis Dulay The calendar-keeper and quiet strategist of the clan. Tanis is the one who remembers birthdays in three time zones and sends care packages with exactly the right spares (and snacks). She’s warm but unflinching; if Rufio hedges on a risky choice, Tanis hears it in the pause and asks the one question that makes him reconsider. |
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| Sister(s) | Luvina Dulay Quick-witted, independent, and allergic to drama. Works as a civilian tech on atmospheric/nav beacons along a trade corridor; she and Rufio swap maintenance hacks and “don’t try this at home” stories. She’s the sibling who teases him most and defends him fastest. |
Personality & Traits
| General Overview | Quietly capable and low-ego, Rufio steadies rooms the way he steadies aircraft—spot the tells, make the smooth correction. A musician’s son, he thinks in rhythm and talks about throttle like tempo; on approach his voice goes even and calm, and off duty he’s low-key gregarious, happier with good company, bad cards, and a half-finished project than any spotlight. Core Values: Bring everyone home; favour craftsmanship over flash; say little, do much; put family first; and show loyalty to the deckplate and the people working on it. He measures success in safe landings and the crew’s trust rather than medals. Social Style: Warm, dry humour; listens more than he speaks; de-escalates with facts and a steady tone. He trades banter easily with Marines and projects a quiet “we’ve got this” until others believe it. Stress Response: Breath slows, voice drops, focus narrows. He volunteers for the hard landing, keeps the cabin calm, and only debriefs himself after everyone else is squared away. |
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| Strengths & Weaknesses | Strengths: Unflappable under pressure with crisp comms and a knack for small-craft intuition, he blends pilot feel with technician fluency—just as ready to crawl into an access panel as to take the stick. He mentors naturally, breaking complex procedures into simple, confidence-building steps. Challenges: Once he sets a course he can be stubborn, willing to press a thin but safe thread if he sees it. He overworks and under-delegates, grumbles at medical fuss (especially hypos), and downplays his own stress unless someone checks in directly. |
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| Quirks | Counts final approach in bars under his breath and taps his wedding band on the console just before touchdown. He’ll wipe a smudge off a panel mid-conversation without breaking eye contact, and he instinctively straightens tool layouts the way other people straighten picture frames. | |
| Ambitions | Near term, be the most dependable support-craft lead aboard and stand up two junior pilots who can “fly like adults.” Longer view, earn a captain’s-yacht qual and someday open a small planetside flight school/repair shop his kids can visit. | |
| Hobbies & Interests | Likes & Interests: Tinkering on his personal shuttle is therapy with a torque wrench; simple carpentry scratches the same itch for clean lines and honest work. He files maintenance to music and is a reliably terrible—yet cheerful—regular at DMZ poker nights. Dislikes & Pet Peeves: Sloppy checklists, grandstanding in emergencies, and anyone who talks over deckhands. He’ll take direct, practical conversation over bravado every time. |
| Personal History | Rufio was born in 2350 under the wide, busy skies of the Philippines, in a household where family wasn’t a word so much as a rhythm. His father, Lamont, was a working musician who taught him to count time before he could read charts; his mother, Tanis, kept the clan stitched together across birthdays, storms, and school plays; his sister, Luvina, was the co-conspirator who dared him to test limits and then helped him fix what broke. Weekends meant grandparents, titos and titas, food for twice as many as showed up, and songs that never ended on the first chorus. Somewhere between watching shuttles make their slow glide over the water and building model craft at the kitchen table, Rufio fell in love with flight and the quiet promise of getting people home. At eighteen he enlisted in Starfleet and went straight to Flight Ops, splitting his time between the cockpit and the bay so he could fix what he flew. The Dominion War arrived while he was still young enough to think he should be afraid and old enough to fly anyway. He moved onto small, fast craft—fighter and patrol detachments—learning the nerves, checklists, and crew-first habits that still define him. Letters home became calls when he could manage them; he kept the war out of the details and told his parents about the stars he could name. By the time the guns went quiet, he was a steady enlisted aviator with a private vow: safe landings, every time, and respect for the cost when they weren’t possible. Peacetime didn’t mean stillness. Rufio rotated through shuttle and runabout billets—disaster relief, SAR dust-offs, border courier hops—becoming the pilot departments “borrowed” when a job needed clean hands and a cool head. On a parts run to a starport he met Chrisanna, a logistics specialist who could unknot a procurement snarl with three calls and a raised eyebrow. The flirt started with paperwork and turned into subspace dinners; shore leaves aligned on purpose after that. He proposed during a quiet window between deployments with a simple band he’d had inlaid to feel good under a working hand; the wedding that followed was family to the bone—Tanis’s lists, Lamont’s set list, Luvina’s toast, cousins packing the dance floor, and Rufio laughing like a man who’d found true north. Their children arrived a few years apart, first Valentine and then Joel, and the tempo of his life shifted again. He learned to cook from holo-notes Chrisanna left on his console, recorded bedtime stories from odd corners of space, and kept a go-bag by the door so he could make every minute of leave count. Subspace “family dinners” became a ritual when tours ran long, and his pre-landing habit of tapping his wedding band found a new meaning. He chose assignments that kept him with small craft and within reach of a shuttlebay—work that let him measure risk against two small voices and a partner who knew the language of schedules and promises. In 2382 Rufio transferred to the USS Moore as a Support Craft Pilot and, over time, became one of the shuttlebay’s quiet pillars. He arrived to a fleet that needed love and partnered with Lieutenant Evelyn Stewart on a from-the-ground-up reset—software sanity checks, parts audits, and the kind of hands-on fixes that make launches boring in the best way. Off hours he tinkered on a personal shuttle parked in Bay Two, part therapy, part test bed for ideas that later improved the fleet. He made fast friends with Gunnery Sergeant Matewa Natana, the kind of buddy who drags you to cards and hauls you under cover when shore leave goes sideways, and settled into the Moore’s social gravity at the DMZ: bad cards, good company, and the steady hum of a ship that felt like home. When crises hit—an assault in the shuttlebay, a bombing planetside—Rufio’s instincts held: narrow the focus, steady the room, do the next right thing. Afterward he showed up for the small moments that keep a crew whole: tool talks with junior deckhands, coffee with Ops to smooth a snag, a quiet word with someone who looked like he once did after a hard landing. Years in, he’s the enlisted aviator officers trust to take the stick for a difficult recovery and the mentor juniors seek when they don’t yet have language for what’s rattling them. He still files maintenance to music, still keeps his tools in perfect order, and still taps his ring before touchdown. As of 2387, Rufio measures success the way he always has—safe launches, safer landings, and voices waiting on the other end of a comm window. He’s proud of the bay he helps run and the pilots he’s helping grow. On paper he’s chasing a captain’s-yacht qualification; in the quiet of his head he imagines a someday flight school and repair shop planetside, where Valentine and Joel can visit the hangar and Chrisanna can tell him where the bins really belong. Until then, he flies, he fixes, and he brings his people home. |
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| Service Record | 2368–2370 — Earth Spacedock (Starbase 1) — Small-Craft Flight Ops Training — Crewman Recruit → Crewman Apprentice 2370–2373 — Starbase 72 — Shuttle Bay & Flight Line — Crewman → Petty Officer Third Class 2373–2375 — 5th Fleet, via Starbase 375 — Patrol/Fighter Detachments (Dominion War) — PO3 → Petty Officer Second Class 2375–2378 — Starbase 72 SAR Wing — Shuttle/Runabout Pilot (SAR & Relief) — Petty Officer Second Class 2378–2381 — Deep Space 5 — Runabout Pilot (Border Courier & SAR) — Petty Officer First Class 2381–2382 — Starbase 211 — Auxiliary Craft Operations (Bay Lead Duties) — Chief Petty Officer 2382–2386 — USS Moore — Support Craft Pilot — Chief Petty Officer 2386–Present — USS Moore — Support Craft Pilot — Senior Chief Petty Officer |
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| Awards & Decorations | 2374 — Combat Action Ribbon — Small-craft combat operations during the Dominion War 2375 — Dominion War Campaign Ribbon — Service in-theatre 2376 — Humanitarian Service Medal — Post-war relief airlifts and evacuations 2379 — Starfleet Lifesaving Medal — Hazardous atmo SAR extraction 2381 — Search & Rescue Service Ribbon (3rd Award) — Cumulative SAR sorties along Federation border routes 2383 — Meritorious Service Medal — Shuttlebay fleet overhaul improving readiness aboard USS Moore 2383 — Long Service Ribbon (15 Years) — Career milestone 2384 — Captain’s Commendation — Rapid response to a shuttlebay security incident 2386 — Starfleet Medal of Commendation — Lifesaving actions during the Brighton Colony bombings 2386 — Meritorious Unit Commendation (USS Moore) — Shipwide crisis response 2387 — Fleet Readiness Citation (Moore Flight Ops) — Sustained excellence in launch/recovery performance 2387 — Good Conduct Medal (6th Award) — 18+ years of honorable enlisted service |