New Kid on the Block
New Kid on the Block
Summary: Recovered from injuries from the Bellerophon disaster, Kappel's let out of Sickbay and goes to meet his new overlord, Sen Eos.
Date: PHD155 (23 Sept 2009)
Related Logs: Cubit Short
Players:
Sen..Kappel..

Kharon - Naval Offices

The ChEng really doesn't spend much time up here but for the occasional bout of formal paperwork she has to file. She's at her desk now, digging through a mountain of paperwork and pulling out memos she's missed in the last week or so. "Huh." She probably should have known that /last/ week. Ah well. Whatever it was gets shuffled to the bottom of the stack as she shifts around looking for a pen.

Kappel opted for duty greens despite the tendency of most to wear stick-up-the-ass blue in office areas. Those newly issued blues are jammed in a locker somewhere upstairs. Finally pointed towards the naval offices after giving Sen's name to a procession of people, he's got a cup of coffee in his left hand that he picked up somewhere along the way and neglected to put down. And coming to a stop in front of Sen's desk, he raises salute with his right. Frak, this was a lot of walking around. "Captain Sen Eos?"

"That would be me…" Is muttered down to the stack of paperwork. Sen is currently in one of those sets of stuffy blues, as it stands. Finally she realizes she's being addressed formally, and she glances up and ticks off a saluite. Eyes dip quickly to his collar, doing the old sweep for pins. "What can I do for you, Lieutenant?"

The pins are there, right below some mottling bruising all over Kappel's neck and jaw. Lowering salute after she does, his posture relaxes a touch. "Jonathan Kappel, sir. Engineering, Battlestar Bellerophon." His eyes get distracted for a fraction of a second, glancing around the office area behind her. Place needs a paint job, damn. Back to her. "I was told to find you."

Eos' eyes light up with some sort of recognition. "Kappel…Kappel…Kappel…" The ChEng dives back into the paperwork and comes up with one piece. "Here it is." Apparently the memo from the recruiter about who was pulled out of the survivors. "I don't have much but name and rank. Typically, I'd love to have your jacket but…" She shrugs, dropping the paper back on the desk. "Why don't you have a seat, Lieutenant, and we'll fill in some blanks."

Kappel sits down as indicated, drawing one ankle up onto his knee and using that for a table for his coffee mug. He eyes the memo for a second and smirks a little, one brow quirking as the mug's lifted to his mouth for a sip. "So I could tell you just about anything and you'd believe it? Can I start with my superhero name?"

Sen gives a quiet little laugh as she straightens up some things, and just shoves others in the drawer of the desk she's been assigned here. "There's not a place on our forms for that. Unless I put it under 'maiden name', and then they'll be questions as to your gender. I meant more what you feel your strengths and weaknesses are in the department, so I can assign you accordingly. Those can't really be fibbed. So don't tell me walking through walls and x-ray vision." The Captain is smiling at least, she has an easy sort of sense of humor. While she's digging around in her drawers and trying to shuffle things around, she finds a little butterscotch disk and it's like finding gold.

"It was Velcro Man, actually." Kappel gets in another sip of coffee while he still can and then sets it back down. "Right. My training's mostly mechanical engineering. Started out in mechanical enlisted, then got my MSME and moved to the Bell, got side certified in demolitions and FTL support in the meantime. Bell had its engineers split between the computer techs and the hands-on folks; I was middle management for the hands-on. Not great at computers, I won't lie." He pauses, both to sip coffee and to let her get in with questions.

Sen unwraps the candy as he talks, popping it into her mouth. It might be rude to not offer him a piece, but perhaps that's a soul survivor in Sen's great war to conquer sugar. "So you'd rather be fixing the problem then running the diagnostics on it?" The ChEng asks for clarification or confirmation before she puts that down on paper.

"I don't think that's the right 'rather than', sir," Kappel answers her. "Can't separate diagnostics from repair. But I know the ship, not her programming. I know controls. I know experimental stress analysis, fatigue and fracture mechanics, finite element analysis, multiphase and tubulence engines flows, computational acoustics and electromagnetics…I've been there. I just don't program."

Sen finally finds a pen, stuck into her bun of all places. The candy in her mouth gets moved from one side to the other as she makes some notations in what will become Kappel's new personnel file. "I have people who's entire job is to sit at a monitor and make sure the little pointed doesn't go into the red. Or that the readings on the oxygen regulation system remain constant. I'm trying to decide which you're better suited for. Diagnostics. Or Repair."

Kappel isn't about to comment, using the time no doubt to assess her about as much as she's assessing him. Sucker. He takes the nicely granted opportunity to drink his coffee, mmm coffee.

Sen makes a few little notations, her face turned to the paper and the steady clack of the candy against her teeth as she thinks. "I suppose you wouldn't have made Lieutenant if you were so easily pigeon holed." She says simply, though the smile is gone.

"You'd know better n' me, Captain," Kappel answers with a slight stress on her rank. His coffee's done and he sets it on his knee, tenting his calloused fingers over it. "Has a PO Nigel Milius been down to see you, offhand? He was in the department on the Bell; they told me he got out alive too."

Sen glances up at Kappel, her head tilting just a hint. Silent warning, perhaps, that there's a thin line he's treading. She can be as easy going or as hard handed as need be, and it's clear her earlier amusement has dried up. "No, he hasn't. But with the sudden influx in our ranks, the support department is doing their best to keep up. What can you tell me of him, from your professional stand point."

That was more a comment of respect for her rank, so Kappel doesn't seem to respond to her weird prickliness. He considers as she asks, scratching his thumb at the tip of his nose. "Exceedingly skilled in repair. Strong aptitude there moreso for mechnical than electrical, though I've seen him handle both. There was a complaint or two that I remember but it was personality clash issues, not work ethic. He puts himself to a job."

Sen relaxes back into her chair a bit. It's always an interesting game, feeling out your new crew, isn't it? "Permanent complaints in his file?" She asks, seeming how they have no actual files to work off of, she's curious, if nothing else.

Kappel shakes his head. "If there were any perms, they were over my level. Shit that went on in our court was a diplomatic issue." He fingerquotes the last two words with one hand. "Didn't happen again. I'd have him on any crew of mine in a heartbeat."

Sen gives a little nod before she gives up on sucking her candy and she then proceeds to grind it to a pulp between her teeth. "Good." Crunch crunch. "I would say that engineering isn't particularly a tight knit group, but we're still family in a second removed cousin of a sister-in-law sort of way." Crunch. "I'd prefer the only thing we fight with is keeping this hunk of bolts flying. It's an uphill battle, Lieutenant."

"Aye, sir." Kappel's voice is a touch more solemn on those two words than before. His thumb idly rubs the edges of the yellowing bruise and laceration on his neck, souvenirs from their unorthodox transfer. "There anything you want me to have a note on coming out of the gate?"

Sen gives a long exhale, the vague sent of butterscotch coming with it. The pen is tossed on top of her papers and sits up a little straighter when all she clearly wants to do is slump out of exasperation. "I'm running out of parts. The hole we repaired in the cargo bay seriously depleated my inventory. Word has come down from command that every piece of enemy space craft or Centurian is to broken down and picked through, every morsel salvaged down to smelting the very last bolt if we can't use that particular bolt. I hope you're as good at destruction as you are construction."

"Deconstruction, even," Kappel says, jogging his knee slightly. "Don't laugh, that's what our Captain used to call it. He thought 'recycling' sounded too liberal." That's a little dry, then there's a pause. "Had your hands on toaster metal then, sir? How's it hold up?"

Sen gives a shrug. "As good as ours, as near I can tell. We were able to do some testing on it in the earlier stages, but we've been told to cease any R&D. We simply don't have the time for it. Had we a dedicated facility and…" She holds up her hand and gives a small apologetic laugh. "I have my orders, and now so do you. Salvage what we can, and melt down the rest. When we aren't holding everything around our ears together with duct tape."

Kappel nods to that. "Aye, sir. Just asking to be sure. Wouldn't want to patch something with it and turns out it's got some weakness we didn't know about. Not," he adds, wryly, "That that wouldn't be good news for the flyboys. Anyway, I'll get on it."

Sen finds her smile again, but it's much more reserved this time. "Engineering is deck two, aft. Most of the salvaged craft parts are stored Areo Fab. Shift schedules are posted and changed periodically in Damage Control. We work six days on, one day off, that twenty four hour period is yours to do with as you choose. Keep your nose clean and your mind on your job when you're on duty, and I'm sure you'll find the transition to be a smooth one. If you haven't already been shown a bunk, you'll be stay in the Officers' Quarters, Deck 1, Forward. Do you have any questions, Lieutenant?

Sen finds her smile again, but it's much more reserved this time. "Engineering is deck two, aft. Most of the salvaged craft parts are stored Areo Fab. Shift schedules are posted and changed periodically in Damage Control. We work six days on, one day off, that twenty four hour period is yours to do with as you choose. Keep your nose clean and your mind on your job when you're on duty, and I'm sure you'll find the transition to be a smooth one. If you haven't already been shown a bunk, you'll be stay in the Officers' Quarters, Deck 1, Forward. Do you have any questions, Lieutenant?"

"No, sir." Kappel has a strange mishmash of colonial accents that's hard to pin down. His 'sir' sounds like 'suh' at times. It rolls out of his mouth with the ease of someone who's been saying those words for years, and he stands up after. Salute given. "By your leave, Captain?"

Sen slips from her seat, returning the salute. "You're dismissed, Lieutenant. Welcome to the Colonial Escort Carrier Kharon. I only wish it was under better circumstances."

"Aye, sir," Kappel drops salute after her, hooking his pinky into his empty coffee cup handle. "But it is what it is, so here we are. See you around, Captain." And he's out.

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