PWD #41: The Colonial Navy Bellhop Service
The Colonial Navy Bellhop Service
Summary: Dr. Khrysos Pindar comes aboard with lots and lots of luggage, finds willing lackeys to lug it around for him, and blocks many paths in the battlestar corridor.
Date: 26/11/2012
Related Logs: None really
Cole Iphigenia Khrysos Lennox Phin Wheeler 
Main Corridor — Deck 3 - Battlestar Orion
The hallways are the standardized thoroughfares found on nearly every ship in the Colonial Fleet. Tall enough to accommodate heavy equipment, their half-diamond arches rise almost twelve feet off the decking. About a quarter of the overhead bulbs are Vitamin D lamps, smoothing out the harsh edges of standard-issue fluorescent bulbs. Wired phones are posted every hundred yards and in adjoining halls as well. Heavy bulkhead doors section off the ship into different areas, and each hatch is clearly labeled no matter how large or small.
November 26, 2004 (PWD #41)

Khrysos stands off to the side in the main corridor, two large suitcases on at either side, a duffel bag slung over his shoulder, and two briefcases like a box fort. He seems mildly irritated, eyes narrowed and arms folded as he looks left and right, watching folks come and go.

Phin is coming from the hangar deck. He's dressed in flight gear, suit unzipped to reveal a Navy t-shirt below. So theoretically he's been engaged in some sort of pilot-y endeavor. He's not paying a huge amount of attention to where he's going, but he at least slows his pace when he spots the man with the duffel bag. So he doesn't plow directly into Khrysos or anything. "Something wrong…sir?" he asks the man as he passes him. He's assuming the 'sir,' but from his age it's probably just a safe assumption he's making en masse around the ship.

"Finally. Someone who speaks in words rather than grunts," the man says, his annoyed demeanor melting into something far more genial. "Tell me, pilot is it? Where is it that new crew members report to? My name is Dr. Khrysos Pindar, with the Caprican Institute for Deep Space Research. I've been trying to be useful and get the hell out of the way, but no one seems to be willing to do anything but grunt military jargon and gesture in vague directions."

"I'm fluent in grunt, sir, but I'm conversational in Colonial Standard," Phin says. Perfectly seriously, so the humor might take a beat to detect. He smirks when he's referred to as 'pilot', but he plainly doesn't really mind being called that. "It depends. Your CO, typically. Who're you…umm…" Khrysos' name and title do not help him at all. "What're you going to be doing here?"

Phin has just come from the hangar deck. He's wearing a flight suit, unzipped in the front to reveal a Navy t-shirt underneath, so he's probably just come from some sort of pilot-y endeavor. He's paused in the corridor to talk with Khrysos. The latter of whom has two large suitcases, a duffel bag, and two briefcases settled off to the side of the corridor not unlike a box fort.

Half of the older man's mouth turns upward in a smirk. "Studying the effects of long-term mining on the plate tectonics of wherever we're going," Khrysos states. "Come, now. I've signed confidential documents before. I don't know who you are."

A petite blonde steps into the corridor, not too terribly far behind Khrysos, lugging a giant issue duffle. The thing practically dwarfs Lennox, and she stumbles just a little adjusting it higher onto her shoulder. She carries a more human size duffle, the gym bag sort, by the short straps in her other hand. She grins a bit as she comes upon the two men in the corridor, her attention going from the collection of bags to the guys themselves. A critical eye sweeps both only briefly, and there's full on dimple action by the time she says, "Gentlemen." It's only one word, but it's a cheerful word. "Moving in?"

"Sorry, sir," Phin says. Whether the man is technically his superior or not, he seems to find the term suitable enough. "I've only met one other person from CIDSR. And she was…not on duty. And…really drunk. Anyway. I'm Ensign Phin McBride. Welcome aboard, Doctor. Umm…I'm not really sure who you guys are supposed to report to, but probably one of the Science officers can help you out. I can show you where that is?" All eager to be useful is the young ensign. Such as his utility might be. "Hmm?" He turns at the 'Gentlemen.' "Oh. Hey." Lennox is offered a smile and half-wave. He at least doesn't call this one 'sir.' "Yeah. I guess. Tons of people are. I just came aboard not much more than a week ago."

Khrysos holds out his hands towards Phin, head tilted to the side. "Finally. Another human being that can /reason/. Yes, /sciences/," he says. As he goes to begin gathering his things, the addition of Lennox causes him to regard the young woman quickly, and then turn back to his gear. "I can't possibly drag all of this with me. One of you will have to help me. Or both. I've quite heavy suitcases." He offers one suitcase handle towards Lennox without thinking twice, and then offers the other to Phin. "Onward to Sciences."

"Doesn't look too bad," is the blonde's observation regarding, well, the corridor. Lennox glances up toward the lighting and skims a glance from the bulkhead to the civvie, to the Ensign in the flight suit. "My fellow Ensign." Oddly, the next question out of her mouth is, "Everybody in the berths changes their socks, ri-." But then she stops, because the scientist is all carry my suitcases. She blinks. And then she looks to the other pilot. And then she looks down at the copious baggage. "Reasonable people can say please, too." She already looks like a turtle with that giant bag, but she has a free hand, so she takes the bag Khrysos offers to her. "I hope you tip well."

Phin clasps Khrysos' hand in a firm shake. He's a righty. "Sure…" He affirms politely, but he kind of boggles at all the luggage. Shifting a look over at Lennox. Help? He at least offers to take the man's duffel bag and one of the briefcases. He does say "Thanks" to his fellow ensign when she also takes some. He will lead the way. He will actually wander toward the Medical area, but he at least knows where that is. And there might be a Science officer wandering around. Or at least someone who won't sound like an idiot paging one. "So you're flight, too?" This to Lennox, theoretically. "Socks? I don't know. Doesn't smell too bad to me. The curtain blocks the really gross stuff."

"Indeed they can," Khrysos responds to Lennox' statement about 'please'. He inclines his head to her. "Dr. Khrysos Pindar. Thank you for your assistance. I'm afraid I know very little about military procedure, so I'll address you as Mister and Miss, and you can call me Doctor Pindar. Doctor suffices, as well." The man doesn't shirk responsibility for his own gear; he ends up shouldering the duffel and lugging his own large briefcases. Sniffing the air, the man scratches at his scruff chin. "You do have laundry services aboard, don't you?" No doubt in reference to socks.

Lennox almost drops the bag when she takes on one from Khrysos to augment her load, and her giant duffel shifts. Now she officially looks like a tiny blonde pack mule. She gets it all under control in a step or two, and nods to Phin. "Yeah, Ensign Lola Lennox. Raptor… driver." She grunts a bit then straightens. Everything's under control, really. "Some pilots have.. you know. Eccentricities," she says, by way of explanation, to Doc Pindar. "What kinda Doc are you, Doc?"

"Okay…" If Phin had any thoughts about objecting to not getting called by his shiny new rank, he does away with them quickly. "Yeah. There's a laundry. I haven't had to do mine yet. I think I can wait until we're out of anchorage. Seems like a good way to kill time when you've got nothing else to do on a mining planet." To Lennox, since he's already introduced himself to the doctor, he adds, "Phin. Ensign Phin McBride, rather. I'm assigned to fly with the Lucky Strikes. One of the Viper squadrons aboard. You'll want to see the CAG after we're done with this. Or the Deputy CAG. He's who I reported to. I'm like seventy-five percent sure hates me." He smirks ruefully, but it's hard to tell if he's joking or not. The two ensigns appear to be playing luggage carrier for Khrysos. They're trudging in the general direction of the Medical area. Phin is the nominal leader. He's wearing a flight suit, unzipped to reveal a Navy t-shirt, so he's probably at least off-duty. Lennox is in blues and has her own duffel bag, and looks even shinier and newer than him.

Khrysos strolls along, matching the pace of the other two officers. He seems quite content now that he's found assistance. "Not a medical doctor, if that was your first assumption," he explains. "I've no talent for diagnosing the flesh of man. I /am/ quite good, however, at holding a world in the palm of my hand and peeling her like an orange." Vague geologist is vague.

Lennox sweeps a look from the corridor over to Phin, long lashed eyes hidden behind an unruly fall of bangs. She looks not as he introduces himself, but rather when he confesses his supposition that the deputy CAG has a hate. "Uh." The sound is soft, but she covers it quickly with the question, "Only seventy-five percent? Doesn't seem committed to me. You do something memorable?" She hazards a glance over at Khrysos at long last. And then she shifts her gaze away. Something about that peeling her like an orange thing, even in the abstract, makes her twitch. Her grip on the bags in her hands tightens, and the huge bag across her bag slides a little lower. "So." Her sunshine is turned up. "Anybody smoke?"

"Are you a botanist?" Phin guesses with a grin. Like the orange thing was some kind of clever word play. "That'd be pretty sweet. I figured any citrus out on that rock was going to come out of a can. But that makes sense. The drunk chick I met the other night from CIDSR wasn't a medical doctor either. I think she was a…biologist? She mentioned shooting animals with tranq guns." He shrugs into a piece of luggage. "Like I said. Pretty wasted." To Lennox, raises a shoulder in a half-shrug again. Such as he can while hauling stuff. "I don't know. Just a feeling. Be prepared for him to ask you about your hobbies. If you don't come up with something quick, he'll ask if you're into porn." He shakes his head, as to the smoke.

"No," Khrysos responds. "Not a botanist." He discreetly rolls his eyes as he glances off to the side, with the intent of not being a /complete/ ass. "My field is in geology; mineralogy and kobolforming are my specialities, although my PhD is in the general field of exogeology."

The hatch to the Recreation Hall swings open, allowing a cacophonous amount of laughter to vomit itself out into the corridor with the only chunky bit being one Aristides "Janitor" Cole, a Viper pilot original to the first 18 month leg of this so called mining gig. He's walking backwards out into the passageway, flashing the Colonial-wide accepted hand gesture for 'rock-n-roll' lifted to his face, with his tongue jutting out between the deep 'u' shape this forefinger and pinky create. He gives a little smirk as his hand falls away and he spins on his heel to go on his merry way. Such things go more smoothly had there not been a trio of carpetbaggers in his way. "Whoa, hey." His eyes do a quick sweep of shoulders to do a rank check. "Yield to merging traffic."

Lennox's trajectory veers toward the bulkhead as Phin mentions porn, and the brass' apparent interest in querying the noobs about it, but she rights in two steps and continues on like that didn't just happen. Boots on the deck, one foot in front of the other. Course, right then Cole pops out of a hatch, and she takes a wider dip around him. "Thanks for the heads up, man." She could be talking to Cole or Phin.

You know what's perfect timing? Perfect timing is mentioning porn about six seconds before one of the chaplains makes a turn around the corrider. AWESOME. Did she hear it? Does anyone give a frak if she did? It doesn't look like it at least, though the little traffic jam does give her pause, and she grins broadly at the collective.

Khrysos has an entourage. Or, at least, they're carrying his luggage. "If I recall my driving lessons, it was the merger that yielded to traffic and not the other way around. Of course, I don't drive much. That's what taxis are for," he says to no one in particular, although no doubt it's in response to Cole's appearance.

"I'm pretty sure he was joking. Also, the whole 'he might hate me' thing," Phin says to Lennox. "It was more of a 'make the frakking new guy squirm,' thing. Not like he was trying to grope me in a storage closet or something…" He does spot the chaplain. Blushes bright red. And stops talking about that. He backs against the bulkhead to 'yield' to Cole as best he can. "Sorry, sir. We going the right way to find a Science officer?" Because Phin is way less than seventy-five percent sure of where he's going, clearly. H

Lennox coughs, "Sir." Lennox echoes, flicking a look over at Cole as Phin lets that brassy cat out of the bag. She presses her lips together and hunches her shoulders a bit. Could be fighting laughter at the other Ensign's expense. "I think I'll like this post." Even if it begins with muling some civvies' bags.

Cole is fleet of foot and does some fancy little dance move to sidle between the bodies that scatter, either that or he very artfully trips over his own boots but tries to make it look good. "That all depends on what state you want to find them in. Animal, mineral, or plant?" He talks as if he has a clever tongue, but there is a humble roll of his shoulders forward as he thrusts his hands deep into his pockets. "You're going to want to go aft, then down to deck four. They keep the squints in the basement."

"'lo, Phin." Gen greets, serene and mouth curved in a smile which makes it hard to tell if she heard that porn talk or not (signs point to MAYBE). "Janitor." There's a nod for Lennox, and she ah's. "Another scientist?" she asks, seeming quietly pleased. "Welcome aboard the Orion."

Khrysos's eyebrows lift. "Squints? Is that a military abbreviation for, 'scientists who determine what is safe to eat and what rocks to turn into fuel for electricity and otherwise make modern amenities possible'?" It's not clear if he's offended or if he's just interested in a tit-for-tat. Iphigenia's words, or perhaps more precisely her /accent/, steers him away. "Do I hear Caprica? Virgon? Tell me it's Virgon," the 'another' scientist says, offering her a small grin by way of greeting. "Dr. Khrysos Pindar, PhD in exogeology. Charmed."

"Oh, hey, Lieutenant," Phin greets the chaplain. Reclaiming hold of his dignity. Sort of. To Cole, "Doctor Pindar mentioned he was a mineral sort. Also, something about peeling back worlds like oranges." He nods about the 'deck four, basement' thing, committing it to memory. They were only going a little bit in the wrong direction. While the scientist is occupied with Iphigenia's accent, he takes the opportunity to set the man's bags down and rest his own arm. He does try not to drop them too hard, in case there are breakable rocks or something inside.

Cole mouths the word 'exogeology' to Lennox and Phin with a sort of pained expression. Maybe such vocabulary is beyond this stick jockey. Grimace turns to a grin when he swivels Iphigenia's way. "Sister." Perhaps the appearance of clergy reminds one of their vices, because Aristides is digging out a pack of cigarettes from wence his hands delved. "I think an onion would be a better metaphor." He comments offhandedly to Phin while he goes about touching the flame of his lighter to tobacco's end.

"It was a metaphor," Dr. Pindar says to Phin, sighing quietly, betraying a hint of exasperation. "Would you have preferred, 'mine rocks good ug-ug'?" He turns up his nose at Cole's suggestion of an onion, or perhaps his cigarettes. "Not particularly. Onions smell and make you cry. Oranges are fragrant and pleasant. I would like to think my work is the latter rather than the former."

Lennox keeps her head down, but she's definitely grinning now. She shakes her head a little as the boy scientist turns the charm on for Gen. Maybe Ensigns have that bellhop smell. She slows to turn and take stock of the cluster of folk, putting rank to face, and occupation in Gen's case. She drops both bags in her hands, taking a cue from Phin. The massive duffle across her back is next. It thumps heavily to the deck. She grunts a small sound of relief when all of her belongings hit the deck. Her blues are a bit mussed at one shoulder from dragging bags. She takes a second to stretch her abused spine, and eyeballs Cole's cigarettes.

"Virgon, with some Caprican education." Iphigenia says easily. "Lieutenant Gen Arden, CMES." She offers Khrysos her hand politely, and notes, "Onions are flavorful and delicious when included in most dishes, though I suppose I could be very priestly and and make a comment about how one must suffer first in their slicing of them in order to enjoy their taste later." She doesn't seem to mind Cole's cigs, as she considers Lennox. "Recent as well, Ensign?"

"That is more in grunt-speak, Doc," Phin replies to the scientist. He doesn't quite chuckle, but he seems amused enough. "Like I said, fluent." He shrugs to Cole. "When he said it I was hoping he was the fruit-growing type of scientist, and we'd be tipped in fresh produce. No joy on that, seems like." His face is mostly unreddened now and, since they're lingering, he takes more of an opportunity to stretch along with Lennox.

"I was thinking more the layers." Cole mutters about onions while he balances the cigarette in his mouth with just the benefit of his lips. He apparently notices one person's interst in his cigarette, and conveniently ignores another's potential distaste. Leaning slightly, he offers one in the direction of Lennox by a little shake of the package. "At least we'll be flush in mineral samples?" The pilot offers by way of casual banter to Phin. There seems to be a lot of lolligagging in the corridor, with a good deal of baggage involved as Khrysos seems to be moving aboard.

"Priestly?" Khrysos says only after taking Iphigenia's hand. He lets go, affecting a forced grin, and he thrusts his hand into his pocket as if someone might thrust a burned hand under cold water. "Yes, yes. I'd discuss the finer points of supplying a population or a fleet with the minerals necessary in order to survive remotely, but I'd risk violating my non-disclosure contract within the first hour of setting foot aboard a battlestar."

"Sister." Lennox nods, using the greeting as both a hello and also an answer in the affirmative. "Just in." Hence the copious baggage, though only two of those she carries are actually hers. She stands there like she's in Ensign formation with Phin, and pauses in stretching to make her own introduction, "Ensign Lola Lennox. Pilot." She reaches up absently to check her pins, straightening one. That hand takes a detour when Cole shakes the pack of smokes, and she leans in, reaching out toward the prize. It's almost a comical amount of lean, and she then has to take a step to actually reach the pack. She executes the move like a habitual bummer. "Cheers, sir." That bright smile is back, along with its accompanying dimple. She looks even younger when she smiles. Maybe she has trouble buying her own smokes.

Iphigenia is so used to the reaction Khrysos has that the quirked, upturning corner of her mouth is the only indication that suddenly she's become an Untouchable. "Welcome aboard, Ensign." she says with the warm, yet clipped tones of received pronunciation. "Please let me know if I can be of service." Not 'Hope to see you in temple' or 'I better see you in confession' or anything along those lines.

"Gods damnit." A booming voice declares rather boisterously, originating from the direction of the Enlisted Barracks, followed quickly by the arrival of an individual stomping out while rubbing his forehead. "Who the frak designed bunks that are so frakin' low." Wheeler, continuing his stride whilst furiously moving his hand across his head, nearly stumbles into people but manages to come to a halt. "None of you I trust?"

"Seeming how we're doing roll call in the hallway, I'm Lieutenant Ari Cole, Lucky Strikes." Just so they're all nice and acquainted, though Cole has been a long standing regular at Chapel services. "Sorry mate, I'm no engineer." The off the hand cuff seems directed at the newly arrived Wheeler, but then the last seems directed at Lennox as he leans even further in, "If I may…" His voice drifts off as he attempts to deftly unbutton the top of her collar so her blues flap open, indicating an off-duty status seeming how she's just bummed a smoke off him.

Phin also, as if taking some cue from Lennox, straightens his pins. Which aren't really out of place, but he makes them extra-straight. He also straightens his posture when Wheeler booms in, shaking his head. Totally not him. He offers a grin to Cole, though he makes no attempt to bum a smoke off his Viper superior. He also does not ask Khrysos any questions about his mineral secrets. Though he does pick up his share of the man's bags again. In part to move them out of the way of any passers-by, but also in case the man is on the move again.

Iphigenia grins at the sound of the new voice, offering amiably once Wheeler appears, "Having trouble getting situated?" She too moves out of the way so that Phin has an easier time with the baggage. Winding up closer to Lennox and Cole, the smoke appears not to bother her. "There's going to be rather a lot of people for me to meet in the next few weeks, I think. Ah, Janitor; have you taken shore leave yet?"

Lennox's gaze flicks to Iphigenia as she offers her service. There's a nod in reply, still mid-lean. "Thank you, Sister." The eye contact is somewhat interrupted as her personal bubble is assaulted from the other direction, and Cole's lean meets her lean. She doesn't even flinch as vipery fingers go for the buttons of her blues. She flashes that expensive-looking smile to the louie. "Excellent point, sir. Well made." Buttons thusly adjusted, she reaches up to tuck the smoke behind her ear, though it's quite obvious she'd rather shove it right into her mouth. Smokers. "Appreciate your feedback." The cheer persists as she says to Phin. "How fast you think we can drop these bags?" She bends to begin assembling her massive pile of carry-ons. One's almost as big as she is.

Looking towards Iphigenia, Wheeler nods. "A little. No one said I was signing up to travel in a giant tin box with no windows, no fresh air, no .." Wheeler trails off before looking up and down the corridor again then shaking his head. "Uhm, I'm .. there wasn't an officer's meeting out here I wasn't informed of, was there? I wouldn't want to disrupt anything with my beautiful presence."

"Drop them?" Khrysos asks, looking genuinely concerned for his luggage. "If it's too much trouble, I'm certain I can find another junior officer to help me. Aft, you said?" The doctor peers up and down the corridor. "Which way is aft? Opposite the way were traveling, I suspect." And with that, he begins gathering his bags.

"I won't drop it," Phin promises, earnestly. Lest anyone think him less-than-careful with whatever classified equipment and/of clothing Khyrsos has pawned off on him to carry. To prove this point, he handles them extra-nice as he follows the scientist to wherever he adventure in bellhop'ing will take him. Not far, hopefully.

There's a little twitch of Cole's face, which manifests it in a quick wink in Lennox's direction. "Not all of it, Sister." Cole volleys back to Iphigenia. For lack of an ashtray, the viper jock just dusts off the end of his cigarette into his palm and balls a fist around it. "With the influx of new blood, I've had my hands full trying to keep Nuggets off my boots." And apparently serving as a ship directory as he quips to Wheeler. "Hey. We have windows. Fore of here, Obs Deck." And his gaze swivels back to Gen. "Why, is that an invite to dinner?" Cue a cheeky grin.

"You wouldn't know what to do with me if I said yes, would you?" Iphigenia's tone is seemingly guileless, but she's grinning, so apparently this manner of exchange with Cole is not unfamiliar to her. "But some of us have been down and enjoying some of the bars in Boskirk. You should go before we push off and you lose the chance. Especially with the expectation of more Nuggets losing it on your shiny boots." To Wheeler, she offers the gentlest of laughs that invites him in on the joke, "Are you entirly sure about that? You did sign up to a space-faring Fleet. And quite right; in fact the Obs Deck has a lovely view of Virgon right now."

Lennox glances over at Khrysos. She doesn't say anything about junior officers. She does glance at Phin with the Rock Doc turns to sally forth, er, aft. The bag might bump into a few bulkheads on the way, but she doesn't complain. "I'm sure I'll find the berths before I run afoul of the CAG. Sirs." With that goodbye-for-now to the sundry officers, she turns to follow Phin and the civilian with enough luggage for a sorority sister. To the sweats-wearing arrival who's nearly twice her size (Wheels), the young Ensign smiles, passes, and then she's off down the corridor. Thump. A bag clips the bulkhead. "Sorry!" But maybe she's kind of not. Thump. "My fault!"

As everyone scurries off, Wheeler glances behind him at the trailing figures then lifts his arm to smell himself, "I showered this week, I know I did." The man shrugs his shoulders then looks at the remainders. "Observation deck you say? That at least could be a gloriful experience. And it may be a space based fleet, but I'm a ground based pounder. Lance Corporal Wheeler." The introduction is offered towards the group that haven't slipped off.

"It would be a truly religious experience." Cole crosses the hand holding the cigarette over his heart, holding the filter away from his tanks by the crook of a knuckle. Now whether this was in response to a date with the Sister or seeing the Obs Deck is left up to interpretation. "El Cee. El Tee. Excuse me, yeah? My bunk is calling my name. Which is also a bit of a religious experience, come to think…"

"Of course. Don't let us keep you." Gen is shaking her head a little bit and is making a demure attempt at keeping back a bit of laughter before she finally swallows it and holds out her hand to Wheeler. This may seem out of place, but all is revealed as she introduces herself. "Chaplain Arden. Please let me know if I may be of service." It seems like a stock phrase for her, but thus far each time she's said it, she means it.

Nodding a bit at Cole as he goes to depart, the Marine offers a parting, "If inantimate objects talk to you too much, you might be a Marine in other clothing y'know." Looking back to the Chaplainess however, Wheeler sees the hand and after a moment reaches out to shake it. "I appreciate that ma'am. Not really a religious sort myself. Not un-religious, but last time I went to confession it didn't turn out to well so I tend to avoid and all."

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License