Like most everyone on Scorpia, Cilusia was born into a normal family of shipbuilders and shopkeepers; that is to say, her father worked at the Scorpian Shipyards, and her mother owned a store catering to tourists to the lush world. A low-ranking enlistedman himself, Cilusia's father had a decent enough job as a welder on the ship construction crew. Enough so that they could run a little shop selling knick-knacks and jewelry to the tourists who came for the tropical feel of the world. Overall, things were normal for Cilusia until The Accident.
When Cil was 9 years old, The Accident left her bereft of her father. An explosion at the shipyards left 13 welding crew dead, her father included. Life wasn't so normal then. Forced to move in with relatives, and living off of family-support and a Colonial death pension, Cilusia's world suddenly became even less focused than it would have been for a normal young girl. Her family did try their best to instill in her the things they valued, culturally and religiously; some of these she took to like a fish to water (particularly the music of Scorpia), and some she learned and rejected (religion). Grades that were mediocre at best rapidly started falling off; her devotion to schoolwork began to falter. Time that should have been spent at school was instead spent out in the fringes of Scorpian society.
Through her midteens, Cilusia spent time hanging around in seedy bars and dive clubs, drinking and brawling away her pain and buried depression over her father's death. Though she would never admit it to anyone, she had been quite proud of what her father was doing for the colonies; that he was leaving his (and their family's mark) on the Colonial military, in each ship he helped to build. One of her most treasured possessions was the ratty name tag from one of his ratty work uniforms; she carries it around with her always. Though she never told anyone, at age 17, locked up in a Scorpian overnighter for fighting another chick outside a bar, she made the decision to join the Colonial military; low grades, life going nowhere, an arrest record growing by the week…something had to be done. The patch in her pocket told her just what.
Following in her father's footsteps, she enlisted. It only took a little convincing for her mother to sign the form, given that, being frank, her life wasn't really going anywhere. And…no surprise, what should appear on her test results but deck? No stranger to the sort of passions for working with metals and parts, tools, and crafts that her parents had, Cil was a natural for the sport, even if she didn't know it. Sure, she needed lots of polishing in boot and then even more in A-School. Occupation of choice? Survival equipment specialist. Her father died in an accident, so she took a liking toward ensuring that no more sailors or pilots would. Of course, there is the matter of that arrest record…and the significant brig time she's accumulated on various postings before Cerberus - a result of being accustomed to fending for herself and not backing down from a fight.