PHD 253: Gibberish
Summary: The door revolves in the laundry, eccentrically.
Date: PHD 253 (28 Dec)
Related Logs: None

Hestia - Laundry

Currently sitting on a dryer, Gresham, is playing sentry for two shaking unites. One-being his own mess of clothes, which is few and far frakking between, another belonging to someone else. Currently he holds a comic book-this one about some fictitious sea beast with wings and tentacles. "Oh elder gods, will your hunger and need for domination hold no end…" trailing off the Ensign turns the page before looking up once, catching-or sensing movement. "Oh Hey." and eyes are back down to the page for a brief few seconds. "Delann. What's up?" Hey, look at that, Gresham's not hiding nor bouncing off the walls-though, clearly vibrating on a dryer.

The voice comes from behind Mimi in mid-turn, interrupting her impromptu crowd-dance through the laundry room. "Huh? Oh, hi Gresh!" she calls cheerily over her shoulder, finally setting her basket down on top of a washing machine. Ignoring a glare from the machine's current user (who can tell in a room full of running machines that ALL SOUND ALIKE?), she puts a hand on the machine, frowns, and moves to the next one. And the next, which thankfully isn't running. Neither is the next one, and she sets her basket on both of them. She turns to get a good look at the ECO and giggles as she sees where he is. "Nothing but my supply of clean clothes. Having fun?"

Having wandered through about ten wrong halls lugging a laundry bag, Roubani's practically dragging it on the floor behind him by the time he finds the damn laundry room. He has a pen behind his ear and his arms are…blue. With ink, mostly, scribbles going up and down both arms all the way to the edge of his T-shirt on the biceps.

Gresham remains ever so engrossed within his comic book, though when Delann speaks he does at least have the courtesy to lower his book and look back to the other ensign. "Hm." a look down as he buzzes along happily-oh wait, that's the machine. "Yeah," Virgil says, "I am having a great time. Really this is one of the few safe places to read. A lot of folks like bein' left alone in here." A smile there, before he's looking back as another descends into the bowels of the laundry room. "Hey, Poet." Eyes watching the viper jock. "Nice tats."

"Yup. Though it /is/ a little noisy…" Mimi grins at the look on Gresh's face. "But I guess it has its own benefits, right?" she teases. And looks up as Gresham looks past her. She turns, following his gaze. "Poet, hey! Wow… heavy research today?" She eyes his blue-inked arms.

"This ship is Ptolemy's biggest nightmare. Speaking of 'eccentric circles'." THUD. Roubani plops his laundry bag at long last on top of a machine, so he can fingerquote on his last two words. A loud, rushed exhale, and he glances at his arms. "I ran out of paper. How ironic is it to be doing one-dimensional kinematics on a cylindrical surface? Hullo, Delann."

"Not enough to detract from the great Muthullu coming from the deep in order to scour Aquaria for souls in order to appease his dark appetite. He rises the elder lord rises." said all in one lovely line of conscious speak. Gresham barely grins, before he's looking back to Roubani. "Huh, I thought the Kharon was more confusing than a battlestar." But, Virgil was on the Bellerophon for a time before he was on the tiny CEC. "Slightly." A good response. "What are you working-persay?"

"Mimi," the Ensign unconsciously corrects. "And I have no idea what either of you just said." She turns back to her laundry basket and begins sorting. Might as well get something done while the gibberish is flying, right? At least, that's the usual idea. It also helps her not to feel like the idiot she must so often seem to be around higher-educated people. Not that she's not listening, but better to keep one's mouth shut and let others think one is an idiot, and all that.

"I have no idea what he just said either," Roubani says to Marissa, blithely. To Gresham: "FTL. I've never gotten the chance to look at it on battlestars before. Same principle - naturally you know that - just the nuts and bolts, different values in the phase velocity, all that. And who is Muthullu?"

"Which part?" Gresham asks, before he's looking back towards Marissa from over his comic book. "The Kinematics, or the Muthullu mythology, as was written by the great writer PL Covehraft?" Yeah, so he might be then, a giant nerd of almost ungodly proportions. Still the Ensign pauses and nods back to Roubani. "Ahh- Well it works the same as any FTL drive in any FTL capable ship. However here, you get a little more accuracy." A beat "One of the elder gods said to have ruled the world of Aquaria before being banished by the Lords of Kobol. Basically a giant make believe squid monster…His main realms are insanity." A beat "I'll just stop."

"He must be make-believe. /I'm/ Aquarian, and I sure never heard of him," Mimi replies with a grin. She hurriedly loads the two washers and gets them going, then sidles up to the dryer next to Gresham and hops lithely up onto it. "What does he look like?"

"Right, more accuracy." Roubani digs one of his cigarettes out of his pocket and stick it in his mouth, holding the unlit thing between his teeth. He talks around it as he flips up one of the washer lids. "But are they more efficient, in terms of metal fatigue and other stressors on the vessel itself. There was research on it some time ago, but of course that's all been unfortunately lost. Theoretically, based on stress-energy tensors and their contravariant indices. But I've gotten so far as small-line segments and that's irritating. Irritating." Dump clothes. He scratches at his wrist and sets the dial. "Muthullu 'mythology'? I've never heard of it either. Being ruled by a giant squid-monster seems to open Aquarians up to a whole host of jokes that I'll spare Miss Mimi, to be a gentleman."

Dane arrives from the Corridor E - Deck 8.
Dane has arrived.

"He is a creation of mythos and fear." Virgil corrects, before looking flatly over towards Delann. "My condolences, Marissa." Hard to tell if Gresham is serious or not, about the aquarian bit. All the same, when she vaults up onto the dryer next to him-he suddenly goes very, very still. "Ah..Well Umm.." there's a faint stammer before the Ensign is turning the page over towards Delann, so she in fact can take a look. "He..uhh..H'he's very vunerable to sh-ships running into him." A swallow there. Yeah, girl next to him, equals awkward. Luckily Poet comes in with the save by talking up about FTL drives. "Well, that could depend on where the ship is made and the technology of the time. Like Hestia? She's moderately not bad, given form what I can tell. I've seen ship insides a plenty."

Mimi leans over to look, blithely unaware of the effect of female proximity on Gresham. "Yuck… I can see the 'creation of mythos and fear' part. Especially the fear. I think I had one of his little brothers under my bed when I was five."

"It could but those variants are miniscule, comparatively." Roubani finally gets around to lighting his cigarette. "I mean, there is some consistency protection - no matter what it's still going to follow the same geodesic in space-time. Wear and tear that's prevented due to the materials themselves is irrelevant; it still occurs. Now I do wonder if the mass of the vessel itself has an impact on the rate of fatigue…yet another variable that falls into the 'irritating' category, but it can be accounted for. Sort of." He's totally oblivious to Gresham's female issue, or he's ignoring it. He pauses, then tilts his head. "You had squids living under your bed? Is this a common Aquarian vermin problem?"

In his off duties Petty Officer Dane makes his way into the laundry and this is one of the few times he is not working on someone else's bird as he carries a plastic basket that has laundry in it. It looks like he has a series of uniforms belonging to other deck apes as he drew the short end of the stick this time for laundry duty. He stops in front of a machine and pulls out some uniforms belonging to Smith and Jones as well as a few others. Soap is thrown in to the mix and the machine is started. He moves over to another machine and other names of other knuckledraggers can clearly be seen as he starts another machine. This is done until what must be the entire deckgangs overalls are taken care of. With that he stops to look at the room as he places ships to pilots, Mouse, Cooter, Poet. He looks over at Poet, "I just finished stripping and putting your bird back together under the Chief's orders, she should purr for you just like before." He scans the scene as Marissa and Gresham speak and then he looks over at Roubani, vessels, fatigue, squids.

If you are ignoring the oddness, Gresham would thank you later. However right now, Virgil is almost a nice shade of red, and cautiously watching Delann instead of the comic book held in what could be considered a slightly quaking hand. "Y-you." a squeak of a voice change there, which has Cooter coughing briefly, before trying again: "You had flying squids under your bed? That just solidifies my own views about that place." Mind you, he was in the cheesiest and perhaps worst place to be on that one particular colony, but it did ruin images. A look over towards Poet. "Ah." cough "Well, you see, again that depends on the alloy your builders employed and other things. I mean one could argue that the FTL on a normal ship without any wear or tear can last and not destroy the ship for a good some odd years. Like let's say fifteen or something to be light and so as not to go over the side in years a ship has been in service. But, you also got to take into effect, like space travel's own danger zones. Meteor showers, star clusters…The there are atmospheric conditions…If it's ever shot at.." And there goes his hand. "Why are you curious about the FTL and the wear and tear?"

"No, imaginary monsters. They might've looked like squids, actually, but I never got a good look," Mimi answers cheerfully. "Frankly, I'm just glad they're imaginary, Muthullu or not. The /real/ monsters are scary enough." She blinks at Virgil's opinion. "Actually, it was a very /nice/ place for the most part. Sure, it had a little storm problem half the year on the coasts, but I've been in worse places." She offers a casual little wave and a smile to Dane, konwing she's seen his face before somewhere, but unable to recall a name.

Roubani waves a hand at Gresham, with uncharacteristic impatience. "I'm not talking about normal wear and tear. I'm talking about reduction of metal fatigue specifically caused by FTL jumps. And I don't know, I saw an article. You can't just read things like that and not wonder…I've been wondering about it ever since we had to go gallivating through singularities every hour." He said that on nearly one full breath, and stops to inhale again. "Imaginary monsters? I suppose those can be more terrifying than the real ones." Finally, Dane, when he registers he's being spoken to. "Oh, thank you," he replies, amiably. "I do appreciate that. Who are you?"

As Marissa gives him a wave a slightly charming if not confused look crosses his face since he isn't used to pilots waving at him though he pulls himself together fairly well as he looks over at the machines though he does add in, "See, most folk would think an FTL is sturdy and standard, reliable even, however, I liken a FTL drive to a really high maintenance woman I mean sure she looks pretty but if you don't pay constant attention to her you are in trouble. Even maintaining the secondary systems is a feat in and of itself." Without missing a beat he says, "First Petty Officer Dane. Knuckledragger, I work in electronics and mechanics." Oh, ho - a well trained deck monkey. He looks over at Marissa, "Your ship is next on the docket to get stripped and up. They are probably working on her now. Sorry, I'm not on it but Smith and Jones mostly do good work." A beat, "Mostly."

"Not really. The real ones shot CIC on the /Kharon/ to sparking shreds," Mimi replies, shaking her head. And just then her watch alarm goes off. "Ugh…" She glances at the face and stands. "Can you guys watch my machines for me? I've got to run a quick errand. Nice to finally know your name, Petty Officer Dane." She glances at her washing machines and hurries out, dodging through the crowd much more easily now that she's not carrying a laundry basket.

"I haven't seen nice and Aquaria ever in the same place in the dictionary." Virgil offers before he is shaking his head back to the other Ensign, dryer sitting now with him. "Not your fault-I mean you're nice from what I have encountered Delann. Just-I've had some bad stories to go with Aquaria." A beat there, and he's bringing a hand up to run through his hair. "But we're not there, so I won't go into them all." And consider that topic frakking done. Eyes back over towards Roubani, "Ahh that I don't remember. We used to know what our service year was on the Marietta, not withstanding everything else. Like how many jumps before we would have to pass an inspection test."

There's a faint shrug before Virgil watches as Marissa snakes out quickly. Deep breath. A look over to the others. "Anyway."

"Nice to meet you, Petty Officer. My apologies, I know precious few on the deck here." Roubani is leaning back against a churning machine, working on a cigarette. Up till recently he was working on something else, if the blue ink writing up and down both arms say anything. He even wrote clear over the heavy scarring on his right arm. His brows quirk slightly at Gresham. "Anyway indeeed. Something the matter, Ensign?"

Dane nods his head, "Nice to meet you, Lieutenant." Deck Apes pay attention to rank especially pilots. He looks over at Gresham and Roubani but he doesn't say anything as he double checks the laundry bag to make sure he got everything.

"Everything and nothing, Lieutenant." Gresham adds with a sigh, before he's sliding down and off the washing machines. Eyes looking back towards the others for a beat-before he's checking the first dryer to ding. Not his, but he is folding the clothing therein regardless. "Just- I dunno. I clam up." a chuckle there, before he's looking back over towards Roubani. "You ever have that problem Poet? Like, when your brain turns to enitre pools of congealed mush?"

Roubani smiles a little at Dane, then takes advantage in the lull on that side to look back at Gresham. His thumb flicks the end of his cigarette, sending ash tumbling to the floor. "I suppose. What is it they say - anxiety is just a failure of self-deception? Something like that. You've gone to mush about…the lady?" He glances at the exit, then back at Gresham.

Dane leans against the wall and he notices a bit of grease that hit him from one of the uniforms. He stands and he walks over to a near by sink to wash his hands. He isn't paying much attention to the pilots as they speak - he is a curious man - though he isn't eavesdropping though once he is done washing his hands he folds his arms together as he checks on the laundry walking by all of the machines holding deck ape overalls - he must have lost a bet.

"Not that particular one. No." Gresham clarifies, as he continues folding clothing, before looking back towards Roubani. "I get it with all of em. Some of them out of fear, but mainly a bunch of them because I don't have a clue as to what to do." He's not going into his various relationships at least. That would just be sad. "And self deception. I wonder how I would fail to self deceive.." And finally there's a look over to Dane. "You were stripping birds, why is that?"

"I mean that it's part of avoidance theory," Roubani clarifies for Gresham, exhaling smoke as he talks. "Self-deceptive beliefs quell fear and anxiety and are therefore consequences of motivational states, and…oh, whatever." Off-topic, Nadiv. "But I don't understand. What to 'do'? What to do…to achieve what, exactly?"

Dane looks over at Gresham, "After the accident with the Raptor from the Kharon the Chief has us stripping everyone of your birds and building them back up so we can make sure everything is working like it is supposed to. Closest we can come to an overhaul without doing a full overhaul." He adds, "Also, if it helps you with the women folk, consider this, try remembering you work on countermeasures on one of the most complex pieces of machinery on the worlds and if you can do that you can do anything with women or you can just let nature take its course."

"I don't know, Poet. Talk without going into stammers." But then one could easily argue it is not just women that do get that particular. And there's a roll of his shoulders all the same. his own dryer dinging shortly after that little bit of explanation. And now he's folding two piles of clothing into one basket. A glance back to the Petty Officer "That makes no sense. ONe Raptor dinging up like that doesn't mean you have to go back and remake the wheel. That'd be if your chief made bicycles. One bicycle breaks, hurting a kid. It being a break that no one could forsee, there fore we're going to take all the bikes in the neighborhood and refix them-even if they don't need it." A shrug. "Just a thought."

Roubani gives Gresham and Dane an amused look. "Are you suggesting a mass recall on men, Ensign? That is a cost-benefit equation that I would not wish to have to see." He puts the cigarette back in his mouth and turns around as his washer honks, opening up a dryer next to it.

Dane shrugs and he holds out his hands with open palms as his face contorts into an expression which clearly says what comes out of his mouth, "I know right, but when the Chief speaks, I listen, my job isn't to think about if it is right or wrong but my job is to do what I am told to do." He continues to watch the uniforms in the wash. "Though the Chief wants this done because she hasn't had a chance to see a work out on each ship. So, better safe then sorry."

"Someone needs to explain common sense to the Chief." the Ensign offers back with something that could be considered a laugh. A look is passed to Roubani, before he's shaking his head. "Yeah well, you and me both, sir. It hurts the brain, and I already have that loaded with useful things." like the Muthullu mythos, right?

"Mm." That's…kind of agreement. Roubani gives Gresham a mild half-smile, then looks back at Dane. "You work on both Vipers and Raptors, Petty Officer?"

Dane nods his head, "I do, sir. I've fixed 'em all in my years of service here." There is a bit of pride and ego in his voice. "I was fixining the FTL drive in a Raptor the other day, mighty sensetive work." He adds with a rugged smile and he addresses Gresham next, "Well, if you want to speak with the Chief go for it, though I stand by her decision since it gets us used to working with the Kharon crew and it helps up integrate with them. If it makes you feel any better the former Kharon knuckledraggers are working on both the wing from the Kharon and the Hestia. Knuckledraggers bond fast."

Gresham grins back towards Roubani as the clothes are finished up, and he is making the way to slink out, as it were. "PO." a look back to Dane. "Be that as it may- you're working on Kharon ships, and inferring that our people didn't do a good job on em." A shake of his head. "It's kind of a shitty call for the Chief to make." A glance is given over to Roubani and with that Gresham is sliding out. He has clothes to deliver.

Gresham heads through the exit labeled <A> Corridor.
Gresham has left.

Roubani clears his throat softly as Gresham goes, shaking his head to Dane. "I'm sure that isn't what you meant, PO. Kharon or Hestia, I'm glad there's attention being paid to being sure all hands know every bird like the back of their hand." He glances at his watch once his clothes are in the dryer. "Anyway, I need to check on something. But thank you again for the repairs."

"Just doing my job, Lieutenant." He says as he looks at all of the uniforms, "And I'm still doing my job." A smile is given to Roubani, "Take care."

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