AWD #004: Your Serial Number
Your Serial Number
Summary: Ceres find Kelsey despondent. They pay a visit to the Chapel.
Date: 09/01/2013 (OOC Date)
Related Logs: Warday logs.
Ceres Iphigenia Kelsey 
Hangar and Chapel
Hanger and Chapel
AWD #04

There are some tales to be told about the energetic, always happy and punctual Petty Officer that works on the Raptors and ordnance. Lots of good things said by the officer corps. Rumored to be in flight training. Enlisted have their own varied opinions. But since Warday, PO3 Wescott hasn't been coming around the sims. None of her regular haunts or hangouts. Ceres may recognize her because she's simply /always/ on the deck the last few days. If she's not trucking ordnance, she's working on the battledamage from a Raptor. But with most of that stuff taken care of, the young woman is working at a Viper for the moment. She's feeding rounds of 20mm cannon into a Viper's wing to arm up the guns. The girl stares at a launch tube like its her key to escape, the blank and dead stare of someone who has not dealt well with the last few days.

Dressed in her green fatiques, Ceres takes the stairs down on the hangar proper, her dogtags twisting and dancing around her neck - no accompanied by a coin of Zeus. In her hand is a clipboard, dark hair swinging back and forth in a high ponytail as she moves. Crossing the deck slowly, glancing up at the Vipers, she reads the designations and then strolls forward amongst the wings, searching. Finally coming upon the Viper that Kelsey is rearming, she checks the designation and draws closer. "PO!" Its said loudly to get her attention. "Do you have the full update on the current status of this bird?" She asks, checking something off and then moving around the nose, checking it over. "The canopy has been fixed, yes?" Business, as per usual but then Ceres does note the look on the young woman's face and it slows her.

The call for the PO doesn't seem to phase Kelsey. She doesn't even blink. She just holds her finger over the emergency stop button on the loading truck like she's trained. This young kid is on autopilot only. But as Ceres approaches, she seems to finally hear everything and Wescott finally looks up to her. Sort of. "Okay." Its not a confirmation or denial. Its like 'yes, I heard you'.

Dark brows draw together at the response and drawing a measured breath, she tucks her clipboard beneath her arm and draws ever closer. Giving the munitions feed a look and than a glance to the PO, she pauses. "PO, why do you not get down from there and go through this approval checklist for me. I want to make sure my bird is going to be ready for action." That bandaged left hand is used to move that clipboard about, the only she's able to do it all. The appendage can barely bend and the edges of a bad burn peek out from around the wrappings.

Kelsey just stares at the other woman like she doesn't understand. Eventually she hits the feed stop on the ammunition and she walks closer and takes the checklist. This woman does not smile. Its like Ceres is talking to a fleshy robot. The checklist is looked over for a moment and she looks back up. "Did you break it? Is your hand okay?" No comment about the Viper.

"No, not broken. Its burned rather bad from an instrument fire after the battle over Caprica. But its healing.." Hopefully. Ceres considers the young woman and then tilts her head. A glance to see if the chief is around and then she clears her throat. "PO, have you been getting sleep lately? Everything alright?" Simple questions as she tries to show no overt concern - give the girl some space as her good hand reaches out to check the nose of the bird.

"Battle over Caprica," Kelsey repeats, nodding. "Yeah, glad we won't see more of that, sir. Heard some people got hurt." She holds the clipboard but doesn't look at it. She just stares at Ceres' damaged hand. "I sleep sometimes, sir, yes. Petty Officer Rooti asks me that to. I don't think she believes me. There's just lots of work."

"Yes, some people did get hurt. We lost quite a few good pilots." Ceres returns, watching Kelsey carefully as she folds her arms. "Sometimes is not enough. Are you eating?" She then asks, the concern about her Viper lost in the face of such despondency. "I think perhaps the work can wait. There are plenty of hands on deck, PO. Maybe you should take some time to visit the Chapel..take time to digest what has happened." A breath is drawn and she lets out in a controlled long release. "Listen…I am not trying to mother you, we've all lost someone and hell…its not easy. I have trouble accepting what is happening, but PO…Wescott." She reads the name on her coverall. "Wescott, you have to. Eventually. You have to come to terms. If you want to be here and help, do your job. You need to be here one hundred percent. Work seems trivial, I know, but if we stand a chance of making them pay for what has happened, we all need to have our" She points to her head, to her chest and then the deck. "The Orion may be humanities last hope."

"Sure." Is she eating? Its non-committal and safe. Maybe she is. Kelsey just stares at this pilot's hand some more before blinking up and looking confused. "I haven't lost anyone, sir." She almost looks hurt. "Why would you say that? What am I coming to terms with?" There's plain confusion. A few of the Deck crew are watching with glances and listening for sure. "Work is never trivial, sir. This is important. Kelsey is supposed to go to college. She needs this job. She needs to be good at it." The Petty Officer seems to get confused again and she sets down the clipboard gently. "I'll get your mechanic for you, sir," she whispers and turns to head off back towards a line of Raptors.

"PO." Ceres says firmly. "Forget about the schematics." The Viper pilot presses her pen into the side pocket on her pants and follows her. That good right hand seizes on Kelsey gently but firmly and begins to pull her off to the side. "Listen, PO, when you start referring to yourself in third person…and can barely reply to me in a coherent fashion, that a sign that something is wrong. Now look. I am not a doctor but I know at this point we need to go visit the sickbay and spend a few hours making sure you are just fine. Like you say. If they clear you, I will drop it, but should they determine you need help, the Chief will hear about it and you will take time of yourself." That is said with a low tone, something that borders on concern as dark eyes search the young woman. "PO, come with me, please." Not wishing to make a scene, she draws the woman with her if she can.

Kelsey turns, but touching her is like turning a ragdoll. There's not even tension to the grab. She doesn't look up at the pilot, though. Wescott doesn't even say anything. There's no scene to be had, Ceres steers her off towards a stairwell with only a very low murmer. Other members of the Deck watch but nobody says a word. Just silence.

You head toward Chapel
Chapel Deck 3 - Battlestar Orion

The chapel is one of the few quiet places to be found on a battlestar. Even rarer still, it's one of the few places that doesn't look like it's part of a battlestar. Heavy blue curtains have been hung from the walls, obscuring the bulkheads. The lights are kept low, adding a certain mystery and gravitas to the space. The central altar is made of a pale grey wood, as are the several rows of pews which extend from it. Laid against the far right wall is a long, low table with several rows of simple white votive candles to be used as vigil lights. Centered among them is a brass plate for burnt offerings from supplicants. Several cushions rest on the floor before the table, where the faithful may kneel to offer their prayers to the Lords and Ladies of Kobol. On the left wall are several compartments which have been sectioned off for private use.

+==~~~~~====~~~~====~~~~===~~~~~ Condition: 3 ~~~~~~==~~~~====~~~~====~~~~~==+

The way that Kelsey follows Ceres who's good right hand has hold of her is something rather despondent, unfeeling. A ragdoll. The Chapel always as bodies in it, taking up the warmth and presence of the Gods. Gods that Ceres, up until now, paid little mind to. That coin is worn openly around her neck as the green fatigue wearing pilot leads the deckhand up through the center aisle.

Kelsey walks like a normal person. She isn't dragging her feet like a sulking child. But she keeps her eyes down and her face is exceedingly blank.

"Ceres." It takes a moment, because Gen had been chatting with a marine kneeling in front of Apollo, but when she has a moment, she makes her way over. There's a flicked look at Kelsey, and then an inquiring expression to the viper pilot.

"Geni," Ceres easily returns, a small fraction of relief washing over her. She lets out a breath and gently releases Kelsey once they get closer. She glances to the deckhand and once more back to the sister. "I was enroute to the sickbay with PO Wescott here when a thought came to me. She is not ill, not in any way a nurse could help." Pause. "I hope all is well."

Given the slow look up and confusion, this could very well be the first time Kelsey has ever been to a chapel. She looks around at the interior but doesn't move even after she's been released. The Petty Officer looks overworked, despondent, and …in a word, 'dead'. Like a sack of meat walking around.

Iphigenia gestures over to one of the pews, for Ceres to guide her. Kelsey's behavior indicates shock and denial, but it's going to be tricky to determine how best to deal with it. "Kelsey." she says gently as she sits. "Petty Officer Wescott." Her tone is slightly more strident.

Helping Kelsey over to a pew, Ceres lets go of her when they get near, watching over her like a hawk for a moment so she can take her seat. That done, the Viper pilot steps back and watches, listens but does not sit. Her bandaged left hand flexes and she glances between the two. From the PO to the Chaplain remaining silent in the face of what is happening.

Kelsey looks down again as she is guided, more emotion showing on her face. Its frustration like she's being bullied. There's another of those quiet whispers from her as she sits down. Given her body language, its plain she does not want to be here. "I want to go back to work. I wasn't doing anything wrong. I need to work." Focused on her very, very dirty uniform, her eyes are downcast with a bent head. She needs a shower badly but from his angle its easier to tell that the sweat streaks on her face aren't sweat. They're dried tears. The legs of her pants are dotted with little black marks about where her chin hangs. "This isn't good. I need to work."

Iphigenia shakes her head. "You're not in any condition to work." she says. "If this were condition one, it might be different, but we're back at condition three and I can't in good conscience authorize you to go back on deck. Not like this."

"Geni, I am going to go get her some food and bring it back here. There is little more I can do and I think you are the best suited for this conversation. I feel I would do it more harm than good." Ceres offers a faint smile and then moves over to touch Kelsey's shoulder lightly. "Wescott, we all have to depend on each other. Right now, you depend on the Sister here and she will see you through." A squeeze of the shoulder and she nods, glancing between them. "Be back soon." With that the Viper pilot aims for the door, slipping out for the mess.

"You're not my Doctors or my bosses, sirs," Kelsey whispers. "You can't keep her from work." Ceres gets a glance as she leaves and Kelsey looks back down to the ground. The girl isn't agitated or aggressive, but this is not pleasant state she's in.

<FS3> Iphigenia rolls Psychology: Good Success.

Iphigenia says gently, "Kelsey, you're not able to focus properly on your work. You need rest, and focus. And this is not the way." Honestly, this is such a level of personal danger that there's little Gen can do but remand her to medical.

Kelsey looks up to Iphigenia and there is something like confusion in her eyes. She's lost her way home and has no idea where she lives. "Why are people upset with me?" she asks quietly. "What did I do wrong? People hug me a lot. Ask me to smile. I would but that's her. And she needs to work. There's no time for smiles, right? We have to get the planes ready." She swallows. "People are crying a lot, sir. One girl I know cries all the time when she's alone and thinks nobody is watching." That's a sad earnesty to her voice. "I need to get to Picon, sir. Can you help me get there? Please?" she whispers, nearly begging.

Iphigenia studies Kelsey a few moments, her tone becoming…not sharp, but strident. "Soldier. Name, rank, and serial number, now." She's forcing Kelsey to be present.

The Petty Officer used to be so happy and proud. Her glossed and shined boots. Spot-cleaned uniform. Perfectly affixed rank. Bright eyes and narrow focus into her goals. But with the demand, her mind swims, trying to find an explanation for who she is. She can't be Kelsey. "These things happen to other people, sir. Not me," she whispers. There's concern, that fragile existence she's built to try and protect herself probably can't take much assault.

Iphigenia studies Kelsey for a long moment. "Dammit." she swears softly, and then notes to Ceres, "You didn't see this."

She slaps Kelsey. More of a cuff, really, across the cheek, and not very hard, but if Kelsey gives her blank-look after the first, Gen will deliver a second, slightly more stinging. The whole time Gen's face is perfectly composed, almost clinical.

Ceres has returned, bag of food in hand, cup of water with straw in time to catch that warning. The viper pilot doesn't gasp, but her lips press into a thin line as she watches the results, her brows furrowing. Its serious if the sister is slapping the young woman. "Geni…do I need to take her elsewhere?" Its a hushed whisper.

Kelsey does give a blank look after the first hit, but the second one seems to get a more lucid response for a moment. She touches a hand to her cheek where she was hit and there's a tension to her like she wants to hit back, but is trying to get the focus there. Her shoulders shake as her mind tries to plow through it. She doesn't look like she's about to explode into tears, but the tremors are a sign. Kelsey, whatever cave she's retreated to protect herself in, is frightened of what's drifting through her mind.

Iphigenia holds up a slim hand to Ceres to belay taking her elsewhere. "Petty Officer Wescott." Iphigenia's tone has become very clipped. "If you don't provide me with your name, rank and serial number this instant, I'm going to hit you again."

Ceres goes quiet and moves to set down drink and food. These out of the way, she draws closer to Kelsey, taking up her post of standing as she glancing from Chaplain to PO. Lowerng down to her haunches, she lets her eyes sweep over the two women. Silence. But she's there if the Chaplain needs.

Kelsey continues shaking in fear, head moving back and forth. She doesn't want to. "Noo," she whispers. "Please don't make me." The girl swallows. "Its too much. She can't do this." Her jaw trembles. "Melissa. Not my little girl," he pleads. Facing the idea that her family is dead? And her daughter? She's done everything she can to this point to avoid it, including beg to stay in this fantasy. "These kinds of things are supposed to happen to other people, right?"

-CRACK.- It's still open-handed, but it's the hardest Gen's hit her, and her tone is absolutely ruthless. There is not an ounce of regret in her tone, and she seems to be bracing for something. A smack back, maybe? "Name. Rank. Serial number. Now." If she had the time, if she had luxury - this would be kinder. But they do not have the time, or the luxury.

Flinching at the impact, Ceres does not speak against the action, in fact it seems that the pilot approves. There is a stark expectant expression on her face as she studies Kelsey. "Come on PO." This is said as a hissing breathy tone.

Kelsey's whole head jerks away with the impact and hangs there and after a moment or two the trembling fades. Wide eyes search the ground, mouth hanging open as she tries to breathe. "Wescott," she whispers, pronouncing like in the Pican accent; 'Wehscutt'. "Kelsey Jean." Her eyes don't focus on anything in particular as horror starts to set in. "Cre- Ppppetty Officer Third Class." A pause as she leans to the side, slackening. "02208.." and it sort of fades.

Iphigenia takes Kelsey by the chin, forcing the younger woman to look at her, still stone cold. "You have a choice, PO." she says in those clipped, fierce tones. "You can be in the hear and now and deal with your pain, take the time you need and eventually get back to the deck, where you want to be - or you can stay in this fantasy and you will be remanded to medical. No one is diminishing your pain, but there are hundreds of people on this ship and every single one of them has lost loved ones. You haven't the right to fall apart. Again. Name, rank, serial number. Look at me when you say it."

Slowly rising as Kelsey finally responds, there is a look of relief and an nod of approval to Iphigenia as she takes hold of Kelsey and demands again. Tough love. The Viper jock folds her arms, forgetting about her left hand, bringing a wince before she lowers it to her side once more.

It takes her more than fifteen seconds to really compose herself. The fear is slowly receding and being replaced by the horror of what's left of her family. Its a selfish realization. Its hard to bring her eyes up to look at the Sister, but she eventually does. "Wescott, Kelsey." Iphi is staring into the eyes of someone who is, no doubt, horrified down to their very core. "Petty Officer Third Class," she continues to whisper. "022084112."

"Good." Iphigenia says, her tone soothing. "Very good, Wescott. You need time. We're going to see that you have a day, maybe two." it's as much as Gen dares consider asking for. "You use the time wisely…and be ready to report for duty afterward. Do you understand?"

"I will get this cleared with the Chief, PO, do not worry. But for now, I would do as the SIster says. I brought you food, it would be best if you stay here in quiet, to spend time in thought even if you do not pray." She breathes and then is reaching down for the food to offer at least the water over.

Iphigenia gives Ceres a firm nod. She can't afford to let her expression lapse with Kelsey still present, so she simply rises and tells her in a somewhat gentler tone, "I'll keep an eye on you until you can make it back to quarters."

Kelsey looks away and down, a hand lifting to clutch at her heart, grabbing a handfull of crusty and burned coveralls. "Yessir," she breathes to Iphi. There is a glances given to Ceres and she too gets a glimpse of that horror. That lively soul reduced to this. Eyes drift over the bag and then over the Gods and for a moment she looks even more distraught. This is not a good place for Kelsey. The girl rises unsteadily and wabbles her way towards the door as if intoxicated.

What the frak. Kelsey gets up to wabble off and Ceres shoots Geni a look, perhaps a bit of concern and surprise mixed together. Food and drink in hand, she scowls a moment and then lets out a tired sigh. "Thank you, Geni. I know none of this is easy for you. I am going to go make sure she doesn't wander into an airlock." A nod of her head and the viper pilot is following the deckhand.

"Thank you. Get her to her berth if you can? Call an MP if you need to." Gen says, frowning in the direction of Kelsey.

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