Rites and Wrongs
Rites and Wrongs
Summary: Greje is called to the Ward Room.
Date: 10 ACH
Related Logs: none


Ward Room Genesis - Deck 11

10 ACH 6735 Souls

The Ward room is used for meetings. Carpeting covers the floor in a muted gray/blue color. Colonial flags line along one wall, representing all the colonies. A sideboard for refreshments is along one wall and a large conference table sits in the center with a dozen, comfortable chairs around it.

----< Condition Three - Duty Area >----—-

Contents: Regas Wireless 1249

Exits: [O] Corridor

Greje comes in from Corridor 11C.

The Colonel is seated at the end of the table and in front of him lays a piece of paper. His shouted Enter, doesn't bring his head up when the door opens, he simply sits there silent for now.

Greje enters when beckoned. She hasn't ever been in here, but she thinks she's gotten herself more or less to the right place. Though… the fact that Regas doesn't say anything discourages that thought, and, after a moment, she looks back toward the door as if wondering if she's really gotten it right.

Regas lifts his head up as Greje arrives. His face is pretty neutral, but he doesn't rise, nor does he offer her a seat. "Lieutenant." The one word, showing more in what he is thinking than anything else. "How long have you been in the Colonial Military?"

Greje turns back around at that word, to find Regas looking at her. Her entire face registers a practiced neutrality. "A little over a month, now."

"A month," Regas doesn't seem to go through every military personnel's records on board, it seems. "Lieutenant, there seems to be some problems with protocol in your small world. I tend to understand, that you are a Chaplain, you were raised a Priestess and that is your primary focus," he does rise then, "However, on my ship, you will learn to conform to such things. Is that understood?"

"Of course," Greje replies gently, stepping a little bit closer. "I have never—" she breaks herself off, pressing her lips together as if concerned that she's going about this wrong. She guides her voice a couple more notches toward gentle, "Is it alright if I say a few words? I'm assuming that this is to do with Jesse," she adds, that he might correct her if she's wrong.

"You will come to attention when you enter a room with officers above your rank. Especially, when you have been called on the carpet. You will not address enlisted personnel by their given name nor will you tell them that they do not salute you. You will not address any Officer above their rank by their given name, you will address them by their rank pins or Sir. Is there anything here, that you do not understand?" Regas stands by her side now, doing that looming/hover. He simply ignores her beginning stutters.

Greje turns to him, "Yes. Sir," she adds. As in, yes, there is much there that she does not understand, "I was specifically taught on assignment to this post that I would be a spiritual advisor and secular confidante to my flock, regardless of rank; that I would neither receive nor return salutes; that I was to act at all times as a peer to those around me. If the… current situation… has changed my role here… sir," she adds, unaccustomed to doing so, "then I thank you for clarifying the situation, but I -am- certainly unclear as to why."

"Because you are a spiritual leader, Lieutenant and people learn by seeing. We have enough little mishaps on board, without my Department Heads not thinking they need to be respected by the enlisted." Regas returns quietly.

Greje lowers her head, keeping her gentle demeanor, "I have always made it clear that my post is outside of the traditional chain of command. I don't encourage disobediance; Apollo's creed declares that we all recognize our places in this world, and work within them. I have mis-stepped, from time to time, and, when these mis-steps have been pointed out to me, I have apologized, and not repeated the mistake. I understand that this ship must function rather like a Sanctuary of Ares, with clear discipline in order to function at efficiency. But even the Sanctuary of Ares sports an altar to Hera, a needed place of comfort and relief. I should very much like to continue to give that comfort here."

"I hear nothing but good things about the comfort you provide, Lieutenant. That isn't in question. From now on, keep your tail dry and we won't be meeting like this again. You have souls to save. I have over six thousand people depending on me not getting them killed. Until we can be some place safer and without worry, I must have discipline on board this ship. By everyone. Otherwise, the structure falls apart and then we have nothing but anarchy. And then you, nor your religion, will be able to stop that." Regas moves over to the paper on his desk. "My other advice to you on this medical matter, is to contact a nurse or a medic. The CMO is busy and so are his staff. If someone comes to you and they are in pain, you can page over the intercom that help is needed. Otherwise, whatever this business is with the patients of Dr. Reighner, is his business."

Greje nods her head quietly, "May I question you on a few other points of protocol?" she wonders gently.

Regas adds in, "The intercom, meaning a real medical emergency. Someone better have broken a bone or is bleeding all over creation on some deck somewhere." He nods then, "Speak."

"Of course, I never assume it's alright for me to be tying up intercom lines. I tend to hunt and scavenge for people, instead. The intercoms are for matters of the utmost importance," the priest agrees, then, "Will I retain the right to go and visit the Enlisted and Marine berthings, messes, and common areas? I try to put myself within reach of people who otherwise might not think to come to the chapel. The ship is, as far as I can tell, mainly populated by atheists. I don't hold atheism as a sin, though I know there are…" she hesitates on the issue of tense, but then lets it stand. There have got to be other priests -somewhere,- right? "… other priests who may tend toward preachiness with people of that character. I go about to let people know they can talk to me, religiously affiliated or no. Also, since Jesse… since the Major and I seem to have problems getting on — I sometimes doubt that there is any word that could come out of my mouth with which he would not find some fault — I should like to know of my status as regards visiting sickbay. Most of those who need my comfort best are there. I understand that I must mind my own business when it comes to the medicine, but I also feel it's important for me to relate to the people there as… people."

"No one is telling you that you cannot go into sickbay wards, atleast not yet. You go in, you do your work, you leave. That is the best I can offer," Regas slides the paper into folder and flips it closed, "As for the berthings, I would prefer you refrain from walking in on people. Unless you know there is someone in need of your services. People have little privacy out here and we like to respect what they do have as much as possible. If people don't know where the Chapel is by now, I'm not sure what to tell them. You also have an office in the Naval Offices."

"I don't mean that they don't know where it is, sir. I mean that they don't come because they assume they'll get a preaching-to. Well, perhaps that isn't the case," Greje sighs softly. It's equally probable that they simply have no use for her whatsoever, although that prospect is more depressing than some. "Alright. I -will- do my best not to annoy Jesse further," she pledges, sounding really rather distraught that he's taken such an unreasonable dislike to her.

Regas turns to study the Lieutenant for a very long moment, "I think you are seeing something that isn't there. From what I am gathering, you are only annoying the CMO when you are taking medical procedures in your own hands and running with it. When you by pass masting it up to the next person, and heading straight to the top. That isn't how it is done. Protocol must be adhered too. That may have been the only five minutes that Major Zaharis had in his busy day to gulp down a cup of coffee. And the four minutes and 50 seconds were taken up with a young El-Tee that panicked and bolted off to the Mess Hall." He pauses, "Now, had this pilot been bleeding out of all orifaces, it may have been a different situation. Had she gone into convulsions on the floor and was swallowing her own tongue. Had her eyeballs popped out and chased you around the room. Otherwise, it was worse than crying wolf. And that is what upset him."

Greje looks from side to side, briefly, biting her lower lip, "I asked him if he happened to know Doctor Reighner's whereabouts. I didn't hop on and tie up the internal communications as if it were an emergency. She seemed concerned, I happened to see Doctor Zaharis while I was doing a bit of scouting, I didn't think it would do much harm to put the query to him."

Regas leans his hip on the table as he crosses his arms in front of him now, "What was so important that you felt you needed to run off to find Dr. Reighner? How long had this pilot been waiting for her appointment?" The Colonel is curious now, it seems. "And the intercom is for paging people, Lieutenant, that is what we use it for."

Greje thinks a moment, "Well, she was in the waiting room when I got there. I was there for… oh, a few hours talking to people. I was a little surprised she was still there when she called to me. She…" she trails off, obviously uncomfortable divulging things told to her, "She made mention of a brain scan. She… seemed like it was a… quite dire matter. She didn't say, she just… had that look, you know?" Of course, being a priest, she's been face to face with that look… someone who knows she's going to die… too many times, and still can't put it into words comfortably. "I was going to be on my way to make the rounds of the ship in any case. It wasn't out of my way to look for the doctor. I had presumed, being there so long, that she had tried talking to the staff. Maybe I shouldn't have assumed that."

"I'm sure I don't have to tell you what assuming means. I guess it wasn't so dire, that she didn't contact any of the medical staff on duty and in the room." Regas pauses again, "So, this woman wasn't moaning in pain, holding her head, she was just waiting for an appointment. I won't assume now, that one was set up for her and a doctor left her just sitting there in need of a brain scan while he was off eating for a couple hours." His frown is well seen, "What I think you fell into Lieutenant, was someone using your station to get what they thought they needed." He takes out a pen and clicks it open, writing a note, "What is the pilot's name?"

Greje frowns. "I asked. But she wouldn't tell me. She also seemed to assume I was a doctor, at first. Though… I obviously was NOT wearing any medical insignia," she adds quickly.

Regas closes his pen and then puts it away. "Alright, I'll contact Dr. Reighner myself and get to the bottom of this. From now on, unless they are wanting to see you for services, you will direct them to whichever department they are having a problem with. It is their problem to mast it up and that way your butt is covered."

Greje looks a little concerned with his phrasing, there, but lowers her head in a submissive sort of nod. "Alright, sir. Though… she did seem quite scared. She's probably facing something… much bigger than herself. If… if I'm allowed to advise, that is," she adds quickly. "There was one other unrelated question, if I may?"

"What question is that, Lieutenant?" Regas asks now, glancing up again.

Greje coughs, "I had thought, now that we're at condition three for the moment, of performing a set of major rites. I had considered the civic rites of Dionysus, since… Dionysus is the only one of the Lords to know, himself, the pain of mortal death, and since he comforts those who share the pain of mortality, and lifts away that pain. But I thought I would put the question to you, sir, since those particular rites are well-known for being… somewhat raucous, a time when traditional order melts into disorder, and Apollo's laws of self-restraint are loosened for those participating."

Regas has to stop and rewire his brain for that question, "Would you like to explain just what self-restraint is loosened, Lieutenant?"

"Well… all of it, if you can," Greje replies. "You… transcend yourself. Invite the God to live inside of you and… make you one with him. Have you never attended the civic rites, even as an onlooker? Seen the maenads and the sacred phallus?"

Regas looks at her like she has lost her mind. "In other words, it is an orgy. You want, the people of my ships, to have some sort of all out orgy…yet you are calling it a civic rite, in order to free themselves and loosen all their restraints." The Colonel straightens perceptibly, "No. Nor will you bring it up or even think of it. If you want to celebrate life, you will do it in a manner that befits your station as an Officer. I think that is all."

"Oh, no, there are no mysteries," Greje quickly corrects. "No men are allowed into the Dionysiac mysteries. Those would be opened in the feral rites. But I thought you might take issue to the civic rites, as well, considering… everything. Which is why I thought that I would ask. I could initiate the high rites of Apollo, instead," she muses. "Those are much more orderly. At least for the participants," she gnaws on her lower lip. She hasn't been on the chamalla in a long while. Not since she last served in one of Apollo's temples. She does pause, though, "You do have people on board who -do- worship Dionysus, however, sir," herself only one of them, "You shouldn't cast aspersions on the way they practice."

For the first time in his life, the Colonel is at a loss for words. No men. Sacred phallus. And, he really does not want to go down that road. "Lieutenant, what religion you or others partake in, is their choice. But don't forget who is over this operation. Nor, who you are speaking too right now. Religion, will not stand in the way of this ship and what her duty is, I hope that is understood."

"Of course, Sir," Greje replies, concern still deep in her voice, "But I hope that -you- understand that if… if this is it… if this is really all that's left… I'm not going to let such sacred rites as the Lords have granted me their permission to know and lead be unpracticed and forgotten. I. Can't. Let that happen. I will always keep an eye toward the safety of this ship… this fleet… and its population. I will certainly postpone certain rites when needed, as I postpone the Dionysiac for now. I will keep the rites contained… I won't be able to perform all of them in the confines of the chapel, but I will -always- find a safe space for them to be celebrated in peace. But I'm not going to set them aside and let them fade away."

"No one said you had to let them fade away, in fact, you can begin scribing. Since, I am quite certain we have lost all of our old texts," Regas replies. "It will give your mind and hands something to do, besides trying to take care of everyone's woes from a hangnail to the death of a loved one." He regards her again, "One day, you are going to learn the hard way, that you can't save everyone. You will need to make that decision on which one to sacrifice. And that is what an Officer does."

"We have copies of all the major texts in the Ecclesiastical offices. In addition to that, I have a large number of minor texts in electronic format. I— had been planning on writing several articles during my time here, and so I came prepared with anything I thought I might need to consult. With your permission, I'll print everything I've got scanned on disk… just to have a hard copy, just in case. I'll transfer the text from the scans into normal text files, but it still may be a great deal of paper," Greje admits, feeling quite keenly, as a budding theological scholar who's killed more than her fair share of trees and spilled more than her fair share of ink, the sudden threat of depletion of these supplies.

"If you have it, then there is no need. You can recreate disk copies instead and make sure they are placed in safety aboard the PAS as well," Regas now picks up his folder, ready to head out. "I have things to attend to, so I hope we've got this little matter under hand now."

Greje nods, "Right," she exhales gently. "Good luck, sir," she settles with her standard not-quite-a-blessing blessing, since she has no notion where Regas' own religious beliefs fall.

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