Training Day
Training Day
Summary: Callie goes on her first spacewalk, courtesy of Nigel and Kappel
Date: PHD167
Related Logs: Engineering Meeting
Players:
Nigel..Kappel..Callie..

Kharon - Hangar Bay

Maintenance day, maintenance day. The sta-puft EVA-clad form of Nigel lumbers into view with his helmet tucked under his arm, singing something under his breath about fast cars, faster women and burning fuel in a total cigs-and-whiskey-charred voice.

Hangar Bay 2. Or more specifically, in an alcove right by one of hangar bay 2's airlocks. The airlock itself is closed, circular disclike door pushed securely shut and verified so by the sequence of several green lights by the keypad entry. Kappel is outside it, three flattened EVA suits laid out on a table together with all their multicoloured nuts, bolts, hoses, tubes, screws…you get the picture. Three helmets sit out as well, detached from their air hoses and faceplates. Coffee in hand, he keeps a squinted eye on the deck crew that's verily ignoring the snipage.

Shuffle…shuffle…thud! "Ow…" Callie bumps against a box or something as she arrives, the new mechanic rubbing her left hip. "Hey. How are you…?" The sight of the godsdamned EVA suits has her going quiet and she looks from Nigel to Kappel, looking scared as hell.

The 'singing' as it were, stops, probably to the relief of everyone in the immediate vicinity as Nigel lumbers a few steps closer, looking from the EVA array down to the one he already donned, shit-eating-grin bright upon his features. "We all outta gold stars for plannin' ahead, sir?" He tosses this grin right at Kappel before giving Callie the very end of the look.

"I can put a gold star on the end of some brass knuckles and stamp you approved if you want, Milius," Kappel smirks at the PO, then his black eyes turn to Callie. "Crewman. Don't look so scared." He takes a step back to the table, picking up one of the white suits and holding it up like a fashion accessory. "Think of it as a giant, loving blanket."

The suit is grabbed as Callie looks at Kappel, an almost baleful glare give to him that doesn't seem to be going anywhere anytime soon. "Yes, sir. I'll try to keep that in mind." The big white…thing is donned, the grin from Nigel causing her to bristle. "You're kind of…bah. Stop grinning!"

"Can I re-gift the star to Specialist Morton for spillin' beer on my bunk, Sir?" Nigel adds, shifting from foot to foot. "Y'know. In a gentle, happy, loving sort of way. After all, we're all family here or something. As someone said. Can't remember. Think he smelled like rotten fish." He pauses. "Is it reprocessed algae or is it fish? Nobody knows for sure." He waggles his bushy, straw-colored brows and hefts his helmet aboard his head. "Trust me, Crewman." He turns towards Callie. "You'll learn to love this thing. It's a friend. A big, fat, squishy friend." He grabs a bit of the EVA suit's material in emphasis.

"You know, if you tell me, the answer has to be no," Kappel replies to Nigel. "It's for your own protection. And take that helmet off, we're not leaving yet." He ruffles the suit in his hands, looking at both of them. "Right. EVA suit. What's the point of it?" Easy question, right?

Callie looks up at the question while hopping around, trying to get the bulky thing on - thankfully she's not a very curvy girl otherwise she'd be screwed. "To provide an enviroment where there is none, sir, so we can have a sustainable oxygen supply while working somewhere where there is none." Easy answer for an easy question.

"Because dyin' is complete and utter bullshit, sir. With all due respect to everyone present." Nigel snaps off, as he sets his helmet down, flashing his teeth a little. "Respect to the Bull too." He rumbles, before adding, "Y'know, normally I'd add, 'Y'ever seen a man die of vaccuum exposure?' or something heinous like that. But I'm damn sure the three of us have seen what happens."

"Stable environment, that's good. Oxygen, of course," Kappel ticks off on his fingers as Callie talks, nodding for encouragement. "Stable internal pressure." That's his translation of Nigel's words. Another finger's ticked up. "What else? Come on, there's at least eight other things an EVA suit does. Give me four and I'll be happy."

Callie coughs. "Keeps us from floating away into nothingness," she adds, referring to the teather that will keep them attached to the ship. "And…uh…" Poking her suit, she purses her lips before adding, "Climate control!" She's fishing there but it does kind of make sense as the suits are meant to keep a person warm.

"Radiation. That's also a bitch." Nigel chirps, waving a suit-clad arm towards the boss-man after nodding at Callie.

"Tethering, temperature, and radiation shielding." Kappel waggles a hand in the air. "Since we've got ultraviolet radiation and particle radiation in there, I'll count it as two for Milius' sake." A brief smirk, then he goes on. "This suit also protects you from micrometeoroids. Don't laugh, they happen. It can hold a reasonable amount of solid and liquid waste, so if you're determined to have that fifth cup of coffee before you go out on a repair job, you don't have to worry about finding yourself a bush." That seems to go to Nigel in particular. "Further, it has a communication system. Your helmet contains a two-way radio that will be your best friend. You do not…and I'll repeat for clarity…you /do not/ frak around with distress calls while outside. CIC will dispatch SAR faster than you can fart, and they get pretty damn cranky if it turns out to be someone joking around. Both of you got that?"

Callie nods. "Totally understood, sir." With the majority of the EVA suit in place, she grabs for a helmet, trying to figure out which one of them will fit her…if any. Kind of seems like a one-size-fits-everyone-but-you kind of affair.

"Yes, sir. Yes, sir." Nigel says, lightly, looking a bit like he's humoring the Lt. He does, however, seem to 'get it', as they say. "Last time I pranked anyone it was the Marine berths on the Bell lookin' for Private Parts. Little did I know this bucket actually -has- a Private Parts. Figure -that- one out."

The goldfish bowls are indeed one-size-fits-all. No petites here. Kappel fastens up a zip on the underside of his own suit, keeping an eye on Callie as she struggles into the white. Once she does, he nods to her. "Zip check's as follows. Neck…" He indicates the fastenes between helmet and the throat of the suit. "…wrists…" Same there, holding up one gloved hand and then the other. "…belt…" His fingers point to the tether fastens at the waist. "…and ankles." Where one's boots go, obviously. "No need to bend over and grab them. We leave that to Milius."

Callie follows Kappel's example, checking her zippers in the order listed, starting from top to bottom. When she gets to her feet she lifts them up opposed to bending to look at them, the girl a bit too distrusting of Nigel to do anything like leave herself as an open target for the odd man.

"Ah. Sir, sir sir. Let me be the first to welcome you back to duty. It just wasn't the -Same- without ya here. I was wondering who was going to give me.." Nigel begins in a dry drawl as he starts to double-check his own suit, just in case.

"Don't make me turn you over my knee, son." Kappel picks up his helmet, sliding the narrow mouth over his black hair and onto his shoulders. That done, zip check commences and he flips the switch on the comm pack at his hip. "Alright. Once we're all checked, we're going into airlock 12 over here." He taps the back of his thickly gloved hand against the panel. "See how you do with it all." That's to Callie more than Nigel. Nigel he knows won't hoark.

"Uh…okay." She helmets up and then bites her lip, the expression on the other side of the glass visor comically tragic. "I hope I don't die before I see Panda again," she mutters accidentally -after- she turns her comms on, it now heard by not only Kappel and Nige but whomever else is listening from elsewhere aboard the Kharon.

"Son. Son?" Nigel asks, head inclining to a faint angle. "Sir. I was a proud owner of the Furies' debut record." He finally slips his own helmet on. "We got a panda on this ship? Don't they eat and sleep all day? Shit."

"If this is a segue into a story of the first time you got laid, I don't want to hear it." Kappel probably did hear the 'Panda' comment, but lucky for Callie it doesn't faze him. Nigel left to work his unique magic, he taps his glove-fattened finger into the keypad until the disc door of the airlock starts to slide open. The far door, leading out into space, is still shut, facing them with the small white compartment. "In you go."

The suit is not really meant to be moved in so it's with a bit of difficulty that Callie heads out and into the airlock, shuffling along. Does she explain who Panda is or try to assure Kappel that this is not a sex story? Nope. Let them frakking wonder!

"Not the first time. Of course, if you're of the mind to share stories, Sir, y'know me. I'm always around to listen. And advise. And wait until you have 'em to share." OH. Nigel smiles a cheery, respectful-looking smile. As the panda story gets dropped, he doesn't pick it up again, just yet. Time for trolling the poor girl later. He too, heads out into the airlock.

"Kiss my ass," Kappel instructs Milius, smirking. The ribbing's short lived though, as most of his attention is on Callie until she scuttles herself in with them. Nice and cozy in the tunnel of doom. There are tethering ropes attached to the wall, heavy beige cables that he indicates to Callie. "Grab one of those, Manfrin. Secure it to the right side of your belt." A few buttons on the wall are pushed, and the door they'd just come through hisses shut and seals, red lights flashing overhead. All the sound from the deck vanishes, leaving them in dead silence in the sealed chamber.

Callie looks at the cords and snags the one closest to her, it clipped into place and tugged upon three times. "Good to go." Before the airlock is sealed closed on the inside and opened to let them out, she gives her zippers one more hurried check and then she gives the men a thumb's up, indicating that she's ready.

"Cannot comply, sir." Nigel drawls, although he doesn't comment further. After one last seal check of his helmet, he strolls over towards the wall of the tunnel and grasps at another one of the cables, affixing it to his belt which notably is still missing melted-down Cylon goodness.

Beep. Beep. A few more buttons pushed. A low whirring starts, that rumbles the airlock floor under layers of boot insulation. A soft hissing starts and lights cycle green over the far door, the disc spinning once, slowly. The shift in pressure in tangible, the artificial gravity of the airlock loosening its hold as the vacuum of space is given free reign. Hissssssss. Boots cling a bit to the floor, magnetically charged, but arms begin to float. The disc is still spinning and then it opens, the blackness of space yawning infinitely just outside the portal.

Callie whimpers once her arms raise thanks to a force (or lack of, as the case may be) outside of her own doing, her eyes going wide as platters when she feels the discomforting effect of zero-g start to take hold. "Sir…" she whines before catching herself, the wavering word coming from her and making her wince immediately. "I'm scared." Still forgetting herself, the admission comes without concern about whether or not she'll be teased.

"Shit. You'll be fine, kid. Relax, I remember my first High-Vel Raptor drop when I was a private in the Corps. I sprayed my Sergeant -twice- when I emptied m'guts and that wart-ridden toad didn't rip my head off. This ain't so bad. Nothin's gonna happen, even if you go flying, we've got bored SAR teams sitting around on their asses drinkin' reproccessed coffee -waiting- for a chance to do their jobs." Nigel says from beneath his helmet as he double-checks his tether and his gear, stepping back.

"We're not going to letcha go anywhere without us," Kappel's voice comes across their little three-point intercom. And to whoever's bored up in CIC. "There's a handrail right by your head if you want to grab it to steady yourself. Just take a deep breath." The disc is still moving, finally stopping with a thick whirrclunk into place. "The switch for the magnets in your boots is on your belt, Manfrin. If you need to get somewhere quick, turn it off. The tether will hang onto you. Otherwise, best to keep it on. Try walking around." He lifts a foot, boot detaching from the attractive surface and clunking softly as he puts it back down, starting to walk around the now-zero-gravity little airlock while the stars look on from right outside.

Swallowing hard, Callie gives herself a moment to let the nerves subside and to get herself balanced by grabbing for the rail once she feels like she's going to be alright. A few tenative steps are taken only to be followed by a few more, apparently feeling a bit more assured with what it is she's about to do. Well…mostly. As she feels her stomach lurch a bit she winces and grabs for Nigel's hand, needing just a bit more comfort before she can brave being out there. "Uhg…frakall, this sucks."

"Look at it this way. You're like one of them five year old spoiled brats beggin' their folks to take 'em to the BALL CRAWL." Nigel finally states, easily enough, grinning behind his helmet as he bounds on down the corridor behind the L.T. "An' we got the BIGGEST BALL CRAWL OF THEM ALL." Oh, this com chatter will likely thrill someone listening in. Nigel finally grabs the hand as it reaches for him as lingers a bit, glancing back to make sure Callie hasn't made any noobstakes.

For his part, Kappel shuts off the magnets and starts to float, reaching for the inner ring of the airlock to stop himself. It's like swimming, but without the resistance, the water, or not having to worry that you won't fly off into infinite freezing space. "Five minutes outside, Manfrin. Then we'll close it up for the day." Trusting Nigel to coax her, he pushes his foot against the bottom of the airlock. His tether cord unrolls slowly from the wall as the LT lets himself drift up and out of the airlock's door, his form now floating with space's blackness for a backdrop, and nothing below but the vertical, dark gray side of the Kharon's hull.

With her hand held and Kappel being as nice as he is about this entire thing, Callie is able to move forward and out without the need for Nigel to apply boot to ass to get her outside. "Ball crawl.." she whispers to herself while looking up, the fear replaced by awe at the sight of the stars that dot the black. She's still not entirely pleased by the situation but at least she is distracted enough to not panic. And no, she manages to keep her food down. "It's so pretty out here, isn't it?"

With her hand held and Kappel being as nice as he is about this entire thing, Callie is able to move forward and out without the need for Nigel to apply boot to ass to get her outside. "Ball crawl.." she whispers to herself while looking up, the fear replaced by awe at the sight of the stars that dot the black. She's still not entirely pleased by the situation but at least she is distracted enough to not panic. And yes, she manages to keep her food down. "It's so pretty out here, isn't it?"

"It's like a desert 'cept without the smell o' meth labs n' dust." Nigel says, gruffly as he makes his way outside, taking a quick hop into space with his tether as he flicks his mag-boots on and off. "So yeah. The good parts. Pretty nice."

Kappel hovers right at the side of the Kharon. The absoluteness of space, deathly silent and still, stretches out past them into forever. The Kharon is alone out here, her gray side lit by the tracks of warning lights along her hull, and the occasional moving beam of a Raptor out on CAP. "Four minutes left, Manfrin. You're doing fine." He lets go of the rail he was holding onto, letting it float him towards the other two. His hand stays on his tether rope, wrist winding around it.

Callie finally braves things on her own and she lets go, allowing for Nigel to move unhindered while she tries to acclimate to this. Her hands wave while her arms are held up at shoulder level, stuck out to either side of her as if she's treading water. "This is fu…." It's fun up until the point she moves a hair too much in the wrong manner, causing her to start tubmling head over ass in a sommersault that doesn't stop.

The spacewalk continues as Nigel hops gently away from the outer skin of the Kharon and seems to be out here, along for the ride. "Lean into it, Manfrin. Remember, it's like swimmin'." He calls over the comlink. There's a juicy belch that gets delivered just before he cuts the transmission. Whoops.

Kappel starts laughing as Callie goes tumbling. He doesn't reach for her though, oh no. "That'll happen, Crewman! Come on, pull yourself out of it. Use your head."

"Oh…oh…" Closing her eyes, she has to fight the urge to vomit while working on getting herself to stop flipping over like that, the spin slowing and then stopping once she moves her arms in the opposite direction she was moving in. "I am going to throw up.." She swallows hard while trying to find the guys, her stomach now upset to the point of making this entire thing less than enjoyable.

Nigel's totally cheating here. He's actually holding still. "Jus' remember. It's pretty hard to frak this up. Go nuts."

"Choke it back, Manfrin," Kappel hooks his foot under a handle sticking out from the Kharon's side. "You're in space, there's nothing to stop you. Quit flailing. Use your tetherline, and when you're close to the hull, turn your boots back on."

Callie reels herself in, grabbing the tether hand over hand to make the whole thing go faster. Once close enough to the ship she sticks her feet out in front at the same time her boots are powered on, getting her to stick once the magnets can do their thing. "Oh crap." The queasiness is still there but there's no vombomb, Callie lucky enough to not puke right now.

"Just pull yourself in." Nigel says, in a tone that almost sounds jocular. He even does the same thing, drifting a bit before grabbing ahold of his tetherline and reeling himself against the ship's hull with a 'thunk'. As a demonstration.

Kappel's boots make a soft thunking soft themselves as he flips on the magnets. "Good." His helmeted head turns, looking out into the vastness of space before looking back at the two. "Alright, let's pack it up. Everyone in, we'll seal up and get the gear stowed." So Callie can run and puke in peace, no doubt. "Repairs tomorrow at 17:00."

Callie hmmmhmmms with her mouth held closed tight, the soft, affirmative sound all that the LT and the Petty Officer get from her. Permitted to get back to the airlock, she takes the lead, hurrying as fast as her little legs can carry her, each step punctuated with a dull *thunk* as she semi-srambles to the hatch.

With a slight *Clunk* Nigel's boots impact with the side of the ship as he climbs up the side towards the hatch. "Got it, Boss. I'll bring little party hats."

"Be sure they have booze attached," Kappel mutters, tapping buttons soon as Nigel's in. "Gravity coming on. Feet on the floor." Warning given, the final button's pushed and the soft hissing starts up inside the airlock room. The ship's artificial gravity kicks in instantly, sealing feet to floor and perhaps even causing a stumble or three as the airlock door starts to rotate, hissing loudly until it's rolled firmly back into place and THUNKed shut. Lights cycle above it until it's green, and the door on the opposite side clicks, opening back into the Kharon.

The helmet is hurriedly taken off and dropped to the floor as soon as the inner-door is opened, that being ignored as Callie rushes out and around a corner, the nauseous girl stopping ten feet from the inside hatch where she's noisily ill. From what it sounds like, she's not only throwing up what she ate previous to their EVA practice but everything she ate the day before and quite possibly the day before that, the retching not stopping for a good three minutes, maybe four. "Oh gods…" comes a weak little wail once she's done, the sound distraught - she just ralphed near the LT and Nigel. How embarrassing!

"I owe ya ten cubits, sir." Nigel says, with a little turn of his head towards Kappel as he pointedly avoids looking at Callie after the first thirty seconds. He rappels his way inside the airlock door and again toggles his mag-boots switch, lurching inside and securing his tether upon the wall as soon as he's able. Then again, he was the one regaling the poor noob with the story of ralphing all over a CMC sergeant in his glory days, so it's likely he's not being -too- much of a troll here. "Y'okay, Crewman?"

To add insult to injury, some of the deck crew are standing right outside the airlock. When the pretty crewman comes rushing out, they start snickering instantly, which turns to loud laughter as they hurry away. They're not getting stuck with cleanup, hell no.

Kappel pulls off his helmet and puts it down, lifting hi chin so he can get at the snaps and zips up at his neck. Callie's hoarking, he completely ignores. For now. He's got her training checkoff sheet to fill out.

"I…I think so…" Callistia mewls after peering about, unable to move further into the ship thanks to how her 'leash' is still hooked to her belt. It's unhooked and handed to Nigel once close enough, the girl looking at him to put it away while she prepares to get a bucket and a scrub brush.

To this, Nigel shrugs as he affixes the tether to the wall with a faint tilt of his head and then clomps his way away from the airlock, onto the hangar bay where he shrugs his way out of his helmet, hair matted. "Well that was a grand ol' time. Heh."

Kappel is busy checking off little checkboxes. The life of a Lieutenant. "See you at 17:00, Milius," he calls over his shoulder. Pen clicked off, he tugs the heavy EVA suit off his shoulders and lets it drop to hips, finally kicking it off to the floor. It's treated fairly well after that, hung up over a table where deck crew will tend to it. And only after all that does he tuck the clipboard under his arm and head out of the airlock towards where Callie ran off to. Duhn duhn.

"Yes, sir!" That is called out shakily as Callie meanders off, looking for a supply closet so she can clean up the evidence of her tiny protien spill.

"Check, sir. Party hats. Check. Beer. It'll be like like CASCAR day. Heh. Heh." Nigel rumbles as he meanders off, snapping off a salute. Time to get out of the marshmallow suit and into something more suitably stylish.

"Your name's not Milius, Manfrin," Kappel scratches the top of his slightly sweaty head with the pen, hair kind of matted from the inner lining of the helmet. "Are you done throwing up, or do you need to go down to the head?"

Callie blushes as she misheard, her brain still a bit fuzzy thanks to not feeling hot. "Sorry. I think I'm done. Maybe." Clearing her throat, she hurries to scrub and rinse the puddle she left. "So…uh…yeah. I think I'll be in the head," the girl suddenly feeling as if round two might be ready to hit.

"Go get some crackers or something." Kappel folds his arms. "There'll be a review sheet for you in engineering. Turn it back in before repairs tomorrow. Need help, ask Milius." She may not be done cleaning, but he motions to the exit with his chin anyway. "Go on."

Callie looks grateful for the suggestion and she bolts although the order she goes in is left to guess, whether she heads to the bathroom or the mess hall for crackers is anyone guess. The thing about the review sheet was heard but right now she's not sticking around for a chance to mess up the deck again.

Kappel smirks a bit once she's left. Some poor deck thug gets stuck finishing cleaning up her mess, for the Lieutenant's out, himself. Probably for a shower. EVA walks always end up kind of pungent.

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