Tinkering
Tinkering
Summary: Rhea plays with her engines while new Crewman Nigel Stephanos worries about matters closer to home.
Date: 1 BCH
Related Logs: None
Players:
Rhea..Nigel..

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Main Engineering Genesis - Deck 8
1 BCH 2235 Souls


Main Engineering is staffed by the Chief Engineer and his or her crew. There are enough monitors, flashing lights, back-up generators, consoles and various other areas to man the battlestar and keep it in top form at all times. Storage areas, locked areas, pipes, machinery and tools are all around the area. The desk of the ChEng sits in an area where it is the quietest so work can be done.

----—< Condition 3 - Duty Area >-----

Contents: Nigel Rhea Marker_Four Whiteboard Wireless 1319
Exits: [O] Corridor
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Rhea isn't at her desk. But, then, the ChEng rarely lets herself get trapped there. She's currently under a power console. Fiddling with its innards. Engineering itself is running at the standard beehive-like hum of activity it usually does. Techs make their way in and out, tasked to various mechanical duties around the ship. Officers and yet more techs work the monitors, to keep an eye on the ship's internal systems. A few, as always these days, have been assigned to work over the marker that's stowed here. Typical day, all in all.

Rhea's Desc
In her middle thirties, Rhea Zimmermann is neither a young pup nor particularly grizzled. There's an air of easy, straightforward competence about her. The confidence of a woman who knows herself and owns both her strengths and foibles. She as a strong-featured, handsome face: high cheek bones, a broad nose and almond-shaped hazel eyes. Her face is smooth, save for tiny laugh and smile lines at the corners of her eyes and mouth. When she speaks, traces of a working-class Sagittaron accent color her words, though education and years of living off-colony have softened it. But her most distinguishing feature is probably her hands. Small but strong and calloused, with deft fingers and short nails that usually have traces of grease under them. Her long dark hair is tied back in a tight, no-fuss ponytail, to keep it out of her face while she works.

Rhea is dressed in Colonial Fleet fatigues. The olive green shirt is tucked into matching trousers, with a subdued black web belt around the waist. The trousers are in turn bloused into black combat boots. A softer, lighter green fabric decorates the shoulders of the shirt, and the buttons up the center are hidden by a flap. Black quick clips, rather than buttons, secure two large pockets on the front of the shirt. On her left sleeve is the black, gold and white Genesis patch. The pins on her collars show a rank of Captain. The only jewelry she wears is a plain gold wedding band, on the third finger of her left hand.

Still zipping up the top of his coveralls, Nigel strides into the area with his short hair still damp and sleep lingering in his eyes. He's headed for one of the monitors, where he jerks his chin to the tech manning it. The other tech stands, letting Nigel get settled in, then exits the area to sleep and shower and all the other things that Nigel just did. He flicks a switch, changing the view of the monitor to survey some other part of the ship.

Nigel's Desc
With long, lanky limbs that make him appear somewhat taller than he really is, Nigel is a man of average height and weight. His hair, though military-short, is clearly of a bright red hue, and his green eyes round out a decidedly mischievous countenance. Quick to smile, quick to laugh, but equally quick to let his temper get the best of him, there is an undeniable charm to Nigel's personality that gets him out of trouble almost as much as it gets him into it.

Nigel is wearing the dark green navy work coveralls. The coveralls are rugged and flame-resistant, and are complemented by steel-toed work boots. Reinforced dark gray cargo pockets and a handyman belt around his waist hold any necessary tools. On his left sleeve is the black, gold and white Genesis patch, and the pins on his collar show a rank of Crewman.

The sound of coming and going on the floor near her makes Rhea scoot out from under her console. "Specialist Stephanos." He's greeted briskly. She doesn't bother to get up. Instead, she rummages around in her toolkit. Still idly talking to him. "Don't get near any of the live wires while your hair's still wet. You might short something." More rummaging.

"Sir," Nigel replies, standing up from his chair with a swift salute. "It only takes a couple minutes to dry," he explains, somewhat hesitantly, remaining still lest the slightest movement of his head should ignite holy chaos. "And, uh. It's… crewman now. Sir." It's obvious by the tone of his voice that it pains him to have to remind anyone of this sad fact.

"Right. Sorry. Still had my head in that," Rhea says, with a gestured thumb at her console. Perhaps she was thinking of his file…pre-bust-down. "At ease, Stephanos. You don't have to salute me in our own damn shop. I prefer my people work rather than trip over niceties when they're on duty." She frowns at her toolkit some more. Then, finally, comes across what must've been her quarry. "Frakking magnetic probe. Always slipping down to the bottom…" she mutters at the kit. Annoyed with it.

Nigel grits his teeth. Protocol? Not his strong suit, which is what led to his demotion and transfer in the first place. He shifts his hand from its salute, running it through his hair instead - it's dry. Settling once more into his seat, he turns his attention back to the monitor. "Need any help?" he asks of the annoyed chief, noncommittally.

"Yeah, actually," Rhea says, as if the thought just occurred to her. "Get down here and give me a light. I can't see a frakking thing once I'm in there." The console appears to be working fine, it should be noted. Yet she crawls back under quite eagerly once she's got her probe. "So, how's Genny treating you so far?" Genesis, maybe?

Nigel flicks his gaze back down to Rhea, suppressing a sigh. Sliding out of the seat, he squats down on his lanky legs and pulls a slender flashlight out of his toolbelt. Shining the beam on the spot where Rhea's hands are, he replies, "Fine. Been waiting to go see my sister, taking it one day at a time." He swallows back some emotion, keeping the light steady.

Rhea half-smiles when Nigel mentions his sister. Though it's concealed under console, of course. When she does say something, her tone isn't without sympathy. "If it's matter of time, you can have it. Repairs to the Pandora are pretty much done. And we're getting some fresh people in. We aren't *quite* as stretched as we were. If it's typical security or medical BS, I'm up to giving a gentle to shove to anyone stopping you. I love the Navy, Crewman. I truly do. But when it comes to family, military procedures can be extraordinarily stupid." There's a sharp clanging sound. Not that it sounds like anything's broken. It's more…speculative clanging. She taps whatever it is she's tapping a couple more times.

"Thanks, Sir," Nigel replies with no small amount of relief to his tone. "I haven't dealt with security or the medical aspect of it yet; I've just been trying to do my job. If I hit any snags, I'll let you know. I appreciate it." He crouches a bit more, shifting his beam of light to whatever is clanging, brows shooting up at the noise. "What… exactly are you doing, Sir?"

Rhea clangs again. But she's quiet after that, as if considering how to answer Nigel's question. "Tinkering, Crewman. Just tinkering. Major Carter gave me a peek at the PAS engine room a few days ago. Did you see that frakking thing jump? Amazing, the amount of power he's pumping through a frakking station. Efficient blighter, too. The thing's running cleaner than Genny." She sounds more excited about those engines than a person really should be. It's lonely out here in space for a ChEng. "Got me thinking…it's been awhile since our last little tune-up. As for the thanks, she just snorts. "I don't know quite what my reputation is, Crewman, but I'm not *quite* a soulless slave-master." More than a note of wry humor there. "If you need to take a day to deal with the familial stuff, it's yours to take."

Nigel shifts his weight, ducking his head to get a better view of the tinkering that's going on inside the console, which in turn helps in his focusing of the light on the innards of the machine. "Yeah, the jump was brilliant," he agrees amicably. "An inspiration to us all, I think." He grins impishly at her slave-master comment. "You don't give off that vibe, Captain. I admit I might just be treading on eggshells since my transfer."

Rhea smirks. "Your record *is* colorful reading," she allows. But that's the most she says about it. "Don't sweat it, Stephanos. I'm not. I don't particularly like Navy-issue automatons. I'm about the work. Do good work, and we will get along just fine." She shifts around, to take a gander at another angle of the console innards. "It was more than inspiring. I had a professor in college who wrote text books on exactly why a fixed object of that size making a hyperlight jump was impossible. Got an A in that class, too." She grins. "It was *revolutionary*. Not about to let it show us up, though."

Nigel clears his throat as Rhea mentions his background, releasing a breath when she doesn't elaborate. As if responding to her bit about doing good work, he shifts again to shine the flashlight at a better angle as she shifts. "Aha, so that's what we're doing down here in this perfectly functioning console," he states with a slight smirk. "Tinkering, tightening, tweaking it into one-upping the PAS."

Rhea chuckles. "One-up is such a childish way of putting it, Crewman. What we are doing is looking for innovative ways to apply cutting-edge engineering technology into an established battlestar mechanical system. It's progress. Cooperation between our entities to improve the strength of our entire mission." She pauses before adding, "And we're going to put that station to shame."

Nigel bobs his head along rapidly. He agrees with everything Rhea says, naturally. But when she makes her addendum, he breaks into another impish grin. "It'll be shame of the highest honor," he returns, squinting at a blue wire. Indicating it, he asks, "Isn't that supposed to be hooked into that?" He points at a green switchboard. There's uncertainty in his voice; he's merely working off a hunch. He could be completely off.

Rhea looks to the wire. She blinks. He is not off. Then she scuttles down, grabbing it with a pair of gloved hands, and shoves it back into place. "Good eye. Must have jabbed it with an elbow while I was down here without the light." She takes a second to make sure nothing else was yanked out of whack, before scuttling *out* of the console. "Well, we're operating within normal parameters. It'll take a bit more indepth overhaul to push our efficiency up any higher." She sounds quite eager about the project, though. "When our new crew get themselves acclimated, we can all attack it. It's not like we don't have enough on our plate already. Thanks for the light, Crewman."

"Sure, Captain," Nigel answers, inching back a bit before standing up with a jolt. "Uh, do you mind if I use today as my day to go make sure Lily's doing all right?" He turns off the flashlight and jams it back into the loop on his belt, running a hand through his short red hair.

"Get," Rhea says, without any hesitation, adding a thumb-gesture toward the exit to emphasize her words. He's free to go without anymore ceremony. For her part, she kneels to pick up her tools.

Nigel doesn't have to be told twice. With a grin, he takes a few bouncing steps back, then turns on a heel and all but bounds out of Main Engineering.

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