Restocking On Hope (Rogue Squadron)

[Zonia Kalranoos]

Main Hangar, Sullust Base​

Galactic Alliance Sullust​

Theme​

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"Hey, be careful with those!" a female voice sternly warned from the interior of a delivery shuttle which just landed into the main Hangar, carrying supplies from The Aquila, a Nebulon-L Multirole frigate in orbit around Sullust. The shuttle was crammed with crates carrying spare X-wing parts the Alliance had ordered from various suppliers. They were to be delivered to the Rogue squadron, together with a crate of finest, well aged Cheedoan whiskey. The Sullustan engineer who aided with the delivery completely disregarded the "fragile" label printed on the side of metallic crates.

"Oh, just let me do it." Zonia said upon descending down the ramp, wiping dust from her dark brown jumpsuit. She motioned towards the repulsorlift carrier to load the supplies and tow them to the other part of the hangar where X-wings were parked. Once the last of boxes was loaded, Kalranoos turned to the Sullustan and pulled out her datapad from the side pocket.

"Notify the Rogues the spare parts have arrived. I'll need their signatures on the delivery sheets." she noted, then took the remote of the repulsorift carrier and used the joystick to manuever it through the busy plateau of Sullustan starport. Kalranoos was assigned to logistics where her skills as economist would be put to good use. Her job was to make sure supplies always sufficed and that GA members always had what they needed, members of the Rogue Squadron included.

​

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[Progflaw99]

He'd been hanging out in the hangar for a while now, meandering between the newer T-70 X-Wing Starfighters. He ran his hand along the hull of one near the cargo ship area of the hangar on the end of the row. He felt the plating, memories rushing through his mind of battles fought, friends lost... a sharp clatter had broken his foray into the past, his eyes locking onto a small hover-sled, one of the native Sullustans struggling to load a crate labeled "Fragile" on the side. Now that piqued his interest. He removed his hand from the side of the T-70, retrieving a datapad from his vest pocket. As he kept one eye on the datapad, he watched as a short brunette in a flight suit began chastising the Sullustan. A wry smirk appearing as she proceeded to load the crate herself. He knew what most of the packages were, just by looking at their size and packaging, he himself was quite experienced as far as parts and requisition went. It just so happened he'd delivered some like packages recently from Incom, the Galactic Alliance had been waiting several weeks for some parts on back order.

Garrus watched the woman from his perch near a T-70, calmly checking his datapad. According to the arrival and departure log, the shuttle was delivering much as he'd expected, parts. The crate marked "Fragile" however wasn't listed. The woman couldn't have been older than late twenties at best he surmised, hellfire, if he'd had a daughter she might be her age. That threw him for a minute, thankfully there was liquor for that. Returning his datapad to his vest pocket, he reached inside his flight jacket and produced a small silver flask, the one he always carried with him. It was wrapped in a thin strand of scarlet silk, one end frayed slightly. With one hand, he unscrewed the small silver cap. Taking a breath, he brought the flask to his lips, the strong liquor burning slightly... and then it was... gone?

He held the flask out in front of him, shaking it over the durasteel deck, a single drop of dark liquor landing on the ground. Somewhat in disbelief, he stared blankly at it. He was out? Already? Well... that just wouldn't do. Distractedly screwing the small metal cap back on, he replaced the flask in his inner jacket pocket and cleared his throat. The woman who'd been loading up the parts along with the suspicious crate had begun moving through the starport. Well, he'd better keep up, he decided. The tall, dirty blonde, former pilot took a few lingering glances as the woman walked in front of him, his eyes shamelessly drifting for a moment, and then he followed at a distance.

Garrus followed her briefly, but as she paused a moment, he caught up, his long stride closing the distance swiftly. As he approached, he honed in on the one crate he couldn't guess the contents of. Making his hand flat, he tapped lightly on the top of the crate, smiling as if he'd just found treasure. With both hands, he began opening the crate, ignoring the younger woman but speaking towards her nonetheless.

"So, these are the parts for rogue squadron then I take it?" It was more of a rhetorical question really, he already knew the answer. It paid to know the quartermaster, and most of the supply officers. It provided him a little bit more access to the shipping manifests and inbound outbound rosters. He continued opening the crate, snapping the two clasps on it's front open. "I may just be able to help you in that regard, but what have we here?"

Garrus had managed to get the crate open, a carefully packed crate of dark bottles. His eyes lit up, a mischievous grin crossing his features. Now this was interesting. He didn't really have to pick up the bottle to know what it was, but Garrus had become quite the dramatist over the years. Hefting the bottle lightly, he admired the smooth curves of the bottle, and the lovely brown liquid inside. He could taste the liquor in his mouth simply by looking at the bottle. He reached out his free arm, snagging an unsuspecting mechanic as he walked by. Grinning at the mechanic, Garrus chuckled.

"Do you know what this is crewman?" Before the crewman could respond, he continued. "This... is some of the finest whiskey in the galaxy, let me tell you." Carefully, Garrus opened the bottle, handing it to the bewildered crewman. "Here, have a sip." He said enthusiastically. The crewman looked at him nervously, entirely unsure of what was happening. "Go on, it's not gonna bite ya kid." Reluctantly the "Kid" took a small sip of the liquor, immediately coughing at the strength of the whiskey. Garrus quickly swiped the bottle back, capping it as the crewman coughed. He slapped the man on the back and sent him on his way. He then seemingly for the first time noticed the brunette woman standing there. He gave her a sly wink as he addressed her.

"You can't trust these Blue Squadron boys..." he said, gesturing with the bottle in hand. "...they wouldn't know good whiskey if it smacked 'em right upside the head." He paused, switching the bottle to his left hand and extended his right towards the woman.

"Garrus Kroll, at your service." He flashed a handsome grin at her. "So, this is all for Rogue Squadron then?" he said, raising an eyebrow and gesturing at the open crate.

[member="Zonia Kalranoos"]​

 

[Zonia Kalranoos]

"Yes." she retorted sternly, before motioning towards the crate Kroll was at liberty to open - "Would you be so kind to return the bottle back into the box?"
She asked him kindly, with a miniscule, somewhat feigned smile. Her mother taught her to always be nice to old people, since their days were numbered.

"A single bottle of fifty-year old Cheedoan whiskey costs around five thousand credits in the open market, which roughly corresponds to half a year's pay I receive doing this job. The shipment is my responsibility until I get a signature on this document." she tapped against the datapad containing delivery logs.

"If the goods are damaged, lost or otherwise compromised, it will come out of my pocket."
Zonia looked up, sporting a half-amused facial expression. Garrus was seemingly unaware of the consequences of his shenanigans; what better way to impress a woman than to cause a large, barely surmountable dent in her home budget?

"Congratulations, you've just drank my rent." she said, then extended a hand to introduce herself - "Zonia Kalranoos, soon to be homeless."

She was already two months late with payment. Thankfully, the landlord was off-world for an extended period of time.
"I handle the logistics, for now. Managed to acquire most of what the Rogues put on their lists, give or take a few items. Are you one of them? The Rogues, I mean, not items on the list."

[member="Garrus Kroll"]

 

[Progflaw99]

He grinned sheepishly at the rent comment, taking her hand and shaking it, firmly with a slight touch of gentleness. He chuckled.

"This one's on me." He winked, procuring a small temporary credit stick. "Catch!" He said, flicking the stick in a high arc. It should be easy to catch. The stick had been pre-loaded with about six thousand credits. He'd been around for just over fifty years himself. The bottle of whiskey he held was actually bottled a year after his birth. That made him feel old. Despite his age, his physical condition was on par with even the best of pilots if not moreso. As he'd aged, he had made it a point to stay in excellent physical condition. Better to be fit when cast into a sticky situation than old and complacent. As far as the vast sum of money he'd just spent, he shrugged it off. What was he going to spend it on anyway, he'd been hording for the last few years, and working for Incom Corporation certainly hadn't hurt his nest egg.

He offered the bottle to her.

"Just a sip? I mean it, it's on me. You've never been curious what fifty year old whiskey tastes like?" He smiled at the woman, narrowing his eyes slightly. He took a step closer, leaning against the crate he'd opened. Standing closer, he was able to see she was in pretty good shape beneath her modest clothes. He listened to her talk, genuinely interested now. Supply. Supply people had always been good to know, especially whenever you were in a tough spot, it was nice to be close to someone who could... procure things.

Slipping his arm up and around the woman's shoulders, he tilted his head slightly and grinned.

"A Rogue?" He chuckled. "Add the word dashing and you might have caught me red handed!" He laughed. He took a step sideways and turned, facing the attractive brunette. "No, I'm not part of Rogue Squadron, though I do some work for them from time to time. Designing new ships, repairing some of the older ones. Mostly consulting work, but I'm officially employed by Incom Corporation." He nodded at the woman. "I do however know a few of them personally. Who's supposed to be signing for this stuff anyway?" He raised an eyebrow at the woman.

[member="Zonia Kalranoos"]​

 

[Zonia Kalranoos]

"You can keep your money." Zonia grumbled, sticking the credit chip deep into the pocket of his shirt - "We always order some extra supplies, in case they get damaged in transport. Of course, this does not imply you can keep the bottle."

She then snatched the whiskey bottle from his hand and slid it back into the box and pressed the lid to secure it. Kalranoos briefly inspected the man, before elegantly sliding down to remove the arm he had so casually placed onto her shoulder. Kroll had violated her personal space, which made her rather uncomfortable.

"And no, I have never been curious what half a century of storage does to a beverage. Very few substances age well." she half-taunted, wryly smiling back to Garrus. She felt his gaze wander where it shouldn't have; thankfully, most of Zonia's pristine curves were well hid by the dark brown jumpsuit usually worn by the logistics crew.

"I've ordered a thing or two from Incom. Quite friendly folk. Never complained when we were several months late with installments for their shipments. I must've left a good impression." the brunette offered, before giving her datapad a glance -

"[member="Alexandra Russo"] should be signing, but if she's offworld, either of remaining seventeen Rogues can take the delivery. [member="Owen Holst"], [member="Asmus Janes"], [member="Choli Vyn"]... whoever is nearby." Zonia knew none of these individuals. Yet, she was suppose to make sure the Rogues had everything they needed and also indulge a wish here and there. Command wanted to keep them motivated and happy, as they represented the main axis of the Alliance during invasions.

[member="Garrus Kroll"]

 

[Progflaw99]

Garrus raised his hands in mock surrender as she swiped the bottle from his grasp. Truthfully, he was mildly disappointed but he didn't let that keep him down. As she remarked on the storage of beverages, he gave her a wry grin, dramatically placing both hands over his heart.

"Ouch!" He remarked before returning his hands to his sides.

He continued smiling as she spoke about Incom. Honestly, it had been a roller coaster, his retiring early, landing the job at Incom. It was a good gig, and he couldn't really complain. Garrus missed the camaraderie of his fellow pilots though, which is why he tended to drag out his visits to Sullust or any other special deliveries he had to make. It was one of the few things that kept him sane, he'd never been one to stay in his office. Part of him wondered if that had something to do with his retirement, couldn't have the brass hanging out with the rank and file troops, allegedly it produced a bad "Command image". Bah, what did they know about it? They sat in their pristine offices signing paperwork and discussing cigars. He had to force himself from going down that road, there wasn't enough whiskey in the world to take that on.

A look of recognition crossed his features as the woman spoke the names of a few of the pilots. He'd heard of most of them, though he'd heard there was a newbie, and a slight organization change. He kept that to himself however, choosing instead to take a look around the hangar. Busy as usual, picking out one of the pilots in that crowd would be like looking for a needle in a stack of needles. He casually shrugged his shoulders. Garrus hadn't seen any of Rogue Squadron, now that he thought about it. He'd checked in with the Supply officer but since then, he hadn't had much luck.

"Rogue Squadron must be out, or maybe they're in a brief, I haven't seen them around yet."

He kept his eyes open, maybe one of them would show up. Funny how that seemed to happen, once you started talking about someone, they always seemed to appear.

[member="Zonia Kalranoos"]​

 

[Zonia Kalranoos]

"How about [member="Vale Endriss"]? He's name is last on the list, must be the newest addition to the pack." the brunette added somewhat absentmindedly as she scrolled through the log files. The document contained no pictures of pilots which would make it much easier to spot them in the busy crowd that went about their business inside the hangar. Her eyes rose from the datapad to briefly glance at Kroll. Perhaps Zonia was a tad too harsh.

"I'm sorry." she apologized with a faint smile - "Work is hectic these days, coordinating the entirety of Alliance's logistics really puts a strain on me. They expect miracles with very scarce resources. Also, my superiors like to keep a close eye on my work."

Kalranoos had a good perspective, but was still deemed to young to be given that much responsibility. She had only joined the Alliance recently, as she made a career for herself in the private sector prior to her arrival on Sullust. With time, Command would find it natural to trust her.

"So no time for fooling around, no matter how benign. We are being watched." the Prakithan half-whispered, before setting the datapad onto the crates that lay idly on the repulsorlift carrier. Her attention turned to several T-70 X-Wings parked just a few meters away from where the two of them were standing. One of them looked badly battered, scorched circuits and cables hanging out of its underbelly.

"Tell me..." she inquired curiously - "How does it feel to fly one of those beauties? Just a thin layer of duraglass between you and space..."
In all truth, Zonia was afraid of flying through space. The notion of flying in a starfighter terrified her.

[member="Garrus Kroll"]

 

[Alexandra Porte]

Alleycat stepped out of the turbolift, then proceeded to her office, which was located off the hangar down a long, narrow corridor. And of course, the Commander had a cup of strong caf made with four creams in her hand.

Rogue Leader had been ping balling from one meeting to another with the brass and now was finally just getting back to check up on her squadron, who had been in the flight simulators all morning, or supposed to be. No telling with this group of misfits though what they'd been really up to; and that was thought and said with much affection, really.

[member="Zonia Kalranoos"] [member="Garrus Kroll"]

 

[Progflaw99]

At the end of the row, Vale had been working on his T-70 X-Wing fighter, elbow deep in avionics. He'd been at it all morning and this was the first break he'd taken. Standing at the top of a small scaffold, he stood, stretching his back. He reached up his left hand, brushing the perspiration from his brow. X-Wings were starfighters, classic starfighters really, and as such they weren't designed with a whole lot of extra space in the cockpit department. They weren't quite as tight as some of the starfighters Vale had flown, but that wasn't saying a lot. He sighed as he looked at the shelf to his left, mounted on the scaffold. On it were several major components of his HUD system, panels, buttons, cable couplings. Whoever he'd inherited this particular fighter from must have been a good pilot, but they apparently weren't much for cleanliness or maintenance; alternatively he supposed, that could be the maintenance crew he'd been assigned. Upon his initial once over, he'd found remnants of year old chewing gum stuck beneath the main console. He'd been pretty upset about that one, but rather than complaining he'd simply resigned much of his free time to maintenance fixes and cleaning up the cockpit he figured he'd be spending his time in.

As he stood atop the small scaffold, he looked out at the rest of the hangar, noticing a woman towing along a hover-sled. About fifteen paces back he saw an older man, carefully maintaining his distance. This was interesting. Vale's attention went back to his work, but he kept an eye on the scene unfolding just down the row from him. As they stopped in front of his small open "Bay" he continued working, listening while he replaced some of the larger panels in the cockpit. He almost burst out laughing once or twice at the brazen way the dirty blonde man conducted himself. It was like something out of a comedy almost, but the man was confident, he gave him that. When the Blue Squadron crewman had walked by, he once more barely stifled a laugh, allowing himself only a quiet chuckle. Reaching down to a small toolbox, he retrieved a screwdriver, leaning back over inside the cockpit as he continued to attach the remaining panels.

Hearing the mention of Rogue, he popped his head up, just enough to look over the front of his X-Wing. It looked like that, whatever it was on the hover-sled was headed for Rogue Squadron. He had popped his head up just in time to hear his name, wondering what had brought that up. He had yet to really meet the rest of the squadron. He frowned slightly. Well, he'd met them but it was only briefings. As he somewhat expected, the "Old crew" tended to keep to themselves, and they hadn't had much recreation time so he'd been mostly going solo, wandering with his R8 unit and finding little projects like this to keep him busy. Vale had met his "Pit" crew a few times, but mostly they'd been minding their own business. Most of them had leave requests submitted the moment his predecessor was no longer assigned and had yet to return, though he'd met the chief. He seemed like a decent sort, if not a little sarcastic. Vale figured that was also part of the "Newbie" phase though. Eventually he'd probably fit right in.

Standing back up, he stretched, raising his arms high above his head. His back and arms were beginning to cramp slightly, and he needed a break. Probably some food too. Wiping some grease from his hands off on his coveralls, he took a few steps down the ladder he was on and jumped to the ground, his boots landing solidly on the deck. He started cleaning up the tools, placing them back in their respective cases and boxes, making sure to wipe them down with a rag that had been sitting atop one of the shelf-like toolboxes. If not anything else, Vale was organized, and that was something that would likely never change.

[member="Alexandra Russo"] | [member="Zonia Kalranoos"] | [member="Garrus Kroll"]​

 

[Progflaw99]

Garrus looked up and to his right, trying to recall why that name sounded familiar. Shaking his head, he hummed.

"Must be a new join, haven't heard that name before."

He wracked his mind, trying to remember where he'd heard that name. It had to have been somewhere, he was sure of it. He heard the woman apologize, snapping him back from the brink of the mental rabbit hole he had been about to fall into. Smiling at the woman, he nodded. He knew what it was like to be under the microscope. While just into his fifties, he'd experienced the strain of working under the magnifying glass for the majority of his career with the Republic. First as a pilot, then as a Flight Lead, and even further as a Squadron Commander. He'd then been bumped up to CAG for a short but on a small interdiction carrier before finally deciding he'd had enough.

"No time for fooling around? That's a shame, life is so much more fun when you say kriff the rules." He chuckled. "But no, I understand what you mean." He tilted his head slightly. "You just have to find a way to have fun without getting caught." He gave her a mischievous wink. As a pilot, he and his squadron had always been pranksters, living from one prank to the next in-between missions. It was great fun, as long as you weren't caught red handed. He narrowed his eyes as she asked about flying, his gaze shifting to an X-Wing's hull.

"Flying out there..." he said wistfully. "...it's like nothing you've ever experienced. Something about flying among the stars, the rush you get from feeling the inertia as you throttle the engines forward, the smooth glide as you cut your engines and engage your thrusters..." He drifted off.

The memories were hitting him hard, starting out mild, memories of his first few flights, nerve wracking but oh the rush. He remembered the first time he flew in a combat patrol, the way the fighters flew so close, and yet each pilot knew exactly where his wing-tips were and where his wing-mates were without even looking. His wing-mates. In his mind's eye, a hot blast of flaming explosion erupted to his right, a fragment of metal slamming into the thin duraglass cracking. The small metal fragment had pierced the duraglass, but it was holding... for now. He remembered the feeling of all the air being crushed out of his lungs by the shock, his hands fumbling with his auxiliary oxygen supply as the crack expanded slightly before stopping... He bit his cheek. Hard.

"It's a feeling you can't really explain." He stopped abruptly, his jaw tensing. It wasn't the woman's fault, truly. It was his own. Garrus had never been one to want to talk to a shrink, and years upon years of experiencing and seeing fellow pilots fall to the Sith, to other aggressors, it had taken it's toll. He forced the memories back down, absentmindedly catching himself fiddling with the flask in his pocked before he remembered it was empty. He pulled his hand from his jacket, sliding it into his jacket pocket. He caught a glimpse of a woman heading down the corridor, her familiar gait recognizable from where he stood.

"Looks like the one you're looking for is headed to her office." He said, pointing slightly towards the long hallway off of the hangar. They weren't standing too far away from it.

[member="Vale Endriss"] | [member="Alexandra Russo"] | [member="Zonia Kalranoos"]​

 

[Zonia Kalranoos]

Zonia glanced towards the corridor, noticing a brown-haired woman make her way to the offices with a cup of caf in tow. She would follow her later, as this [member="Garrus Kroll"] piqued her interest now. The mention of Incom Corporation echoed in her ears as she absentmindedly listened to him describe the thrills of space dogfights. Perhaps there was some use of this old goon. A miniscule smile crossed her lips. Heavy discounts on tech were on her mind.

"Fun without getting caught." the Prakithan repeated with a slight chuckle - "I'm afraid such shenanigans are far outside the scope of my line of work."
Kalranoos was so immersed in her duties that she almost forgot how to have fun.
"If it is a feeling one can't explain, then I'll just have to experience it, one day."

Her smile dissipated as she steered the conversation back to business. Leaning back on one of the crates, Zonia observed the seasoned, blonde-haired man from head to toe. He was in pretty good shape, she'd grant him that.

"You mentioned Incom. Why did you stop flying and assumed a corporate life?" she inquired, then tapped the side of his upper arm, in reassurance -

"I mean, nothing wrong with you as far as I can see. The Alliance need experienced pilots, who let battles choose them."

 

[Progflaw99]

Garrus, drawn back to reality, narrowed his eyes slightly as the woman chuckled. He smirked.

"You best get yourself a bigger scope then." Now it was his turn to chuckle.

As the woman mentioned Incom, he nodded. Now that she asked the question, he hadn't really prepared an answer for that one. It caught him slightly off guard, but he rolled with it. He'd always been one to roll with the punches, it allowed him a lot more versatility, both in and out of combat. He let his hand wander, playing at the stubble that had formed along his jawline.

"Well, truth be told, it wasn't so much that I wanted out of the cockpit as it was time to go. Did my bid and got out. I've spent too many years of my youth..." He exhaled through his nose, a stifled chuckle barely escaping. "...fighting for other people's causes, not my own. So after deciding to get outta town, had a few connections still from my younger days. Decided to hit up a few of my old friends, and that landed me a job at Incom." He shrugged, truthfully it had been a little more complicated than that, but that was a story for another time, after drinks. Lots of drinks. "Sure, they've got me delivering special orders, delayed orders, but I get to deal with some pretty sweet tech... Design... that sort of thing."

He'd yet to have a design approved, but he was getting close, and he expected a pretty big payout. It had taken him a while to get the design he wanted to fit with the loadout, but he'd been diligent, and he'd finally found a few compromises he could make to get the result of what he'd want. Hopefully the market found it just as appealing. As the woman touched his arm, he forced a smile. He'd done enough of letting others choose his battles, and what had that gotten him? He couldn't remember the last time he'd really gotten close to anyone but his bottle. Too many faces, too many names. Some of them he couldn't even remember, but the faces never went away. He felt broken, but how many countless men before him hadn't struggled with the memories? He shrugged it off for the time being.

"Lady, I've spent too many years fighting everyone else's battles. Sure, I'll pitch in where the credits are, but there's no profit in charity, nor in ideals. That's the thing with ideals, and trumped up morality. It drives business, but it doesn't do much for itself."

[member="Zonia Kalranoos"]​

 

[Progflaw99]

Vale had finished cleaning the few tools he'd removed from their bins, carefully putting them back where they each belonged. He removed his work gloves, reaching up and cracking his knuckles. His body ached from the strange positions he'd had to force himself into in order to reach the parts of the cockpit he'd been working on. Placing his hands on his lower back he stretched, his back cracking a few times as he inhaled sharply. A disinterested yawn escaped his lips and he sighed. He had a few things he still wanted to get done but he was long overdue for a break. The last few weeks had been non-stop training exercises, flights, and maintenance. He looked over to where the sled now hovered, the two still talking. He'd seen the older man around a few times, one of the Incom reps if he remembered correctly. His eyes moved to the woman then, her dark hair and pretty face causing his gaze to linger a moment longer than he'd intended. Biting his cheek he looked down to his chrono. He had a few hours before he had anything on his schedule. He shrugged and went for it, what was the worst that could happen?

His steps took him towards where the two were standing, attempting to catch the eye of the woman as he approached from slightly behind the Incom rep. He raised a hand in greeting. The man's name escaped him, he'd seen him on Sullust a few times, usually delivering parts. He greeted the pair, a disarming smile aimed in their direction.

"Hey, how's it going? Overheard you guys talking from up there." He motioned towards the ladder still set up against the T-70. "Supplies for Rogue Squadron?" He nodded at the sled.

[member="Zonia Kalranoos"] | [member="Garrus Kroll"]​

 

[Zonia Kalranoos]

"I'd have to agree." she retorted simply - "Profit revolves the galaxy. Ideals will only get us so far. But when I first came to this place, we only had ideals. And look at us now."
The Alliance had come far from just a handful of vigilante pilots basking in the Sullustan dust. They became a force to be reckoned with, on their way to purge the Core from the Sith. Zonia was pleased to be the smallest of cogs in this complex, evergrowing machinery. She smiled to Kroll, her demeanor in stark contrast to the cold, disintrested profesionallism she displayed initially.

"Here." the dark-haired woman said as she slid a business card into his hand - "Give me a call when you are on Sullust. We'll discuss business. Perhaps over lunch, or dinner, whichever you prefer. I always need someone to put a good word for me at Incom."

Just as the card left her hand, a young pilot emerged from behind Kroll, if it was to be judged by the insignia he wore. Zonia's features brightened a notch, as she finally saw an opportunity to rid herself of paperwork.
"Yes, they are." she confirmed with a nod - "I've managed to get everything on the list. And some of it was not at all easy to obtain."

Dark eyes narrowed as she tried to read his stained name tag.
"Endriss, is it?" she read off, before slightly bowing to introduce herself - "I'm Zonia Kalranoos. Your supplies are now my problem. Command wants to keep Rogues happy. In any way we can."
The last bit was a tad unintentionally playful, followed by a half-grin. They deserved it, the way they flew over Dulvoyinn.

[member="Garrus Kroll"] [member="Vale Endriss"]

 

[Progflaw99]

Garrus nodded. He couldn't argue with that. It was not long ago that the Galactic Alliance had been a simple upstart, now look at where they were in comparison with some of the other powers that be. And let's face it, he was by proxy working for the Galactic Alliance, or at the very least collaborating. It was a strange thing, ideals. Couldn't really get away from them after-all huh? He smirked as the woman seemed to invite him to lunch, or dinner to discuss work and/or Incom. He couldn't tell if she was simply being professional, or if there had been a hint of playfulness in her voice as she'd said it. In either case, he reached out to take her card. As his fingers touched the card itself, a young man had appeared from behind him. It had startled him, but he didn't show it. Guess the years of working around ships had gotten to his hearing. He stepped towards the side and as the man spoke, he took a few steps off towards his shuttle. That was his cue to leave, maybe they'd pick up another time, this Zonia Kalranoos, but right now he figured he'd better get going while the going was good. He lifted his voice as he took a few more steps.

"I'll see you around, Miss Kalranoos." He winked before turning his eyes on the young man. "Better watch that one kid."

He figured he'd leave it at that for now, and curtly turned on his heel. As his feet brought him back across the hangar bay he regretfully remembered... he'd failed to find any liquor to replenish his now empty flask. Blast. Well, it couldn't be helped. He was sure he could ask around but he knew the drill, likely they'd all dismiss him as an internal affairs agent or some such. He'd have to wait till he got back aboard his shuttle, he did have a few more stops to make this trip. With his hands in his pockets, he made his way towards the Incom shuttle he'd arrived on.

[member="Zonia Kalranoos"] | [member="Vale Endriss"]​

 

[Progflaw99]

The young pilot from Naboo turned as the older man made his way off, frowning slightly at the man's comments. What could that mean? He figured he must have missed something, but turned back towards the woman and the contents of the floating sled.

Mentally he went through a few things before coming to the conclusion that there was definitely something other than parts being delivered. What exactly he didn't know but something. Smiling politely as the woman introduced herself he extended a hand absentmindedly as he went for a handshake. Rather embarrassed of himself, he retracted his hand. It was such an automatic response he'd forgotten his hands were far from clean, having just been elbow deep in his craft's inner workings. Instead he did a quick nod of his head.

"Endriss is right Ma'am. Vale, nice to meet you! I'm pretty new to the squadron, but I might be able to help ya."

That last bit had sounded a bit... mischievous if he'd heard properly. Keeping the Rogues happy? That was a first. Sure, they were taken pretty good care of, but a lot of the time they had to do more with less. Maybe this was the first in a string of good luck for the squadron, but Vale didn't believe in luck, not truly. When it came down to it, lady luck wasn't dependable, sometimes she'd be there waiting for you, other times you'd go looking and find her shacked up with someone else... or maybe that was his ex. He kept getting the two mixed up. He got an idea and decided to run with it, posing a question to their new supply specialist, at least that's what he'd call her for now.

"You got any Black Cats, Roman Candles, or Screaming Mimi's in there?" he said, pointing at the large crate marked "Fragile". He waited a fraction of a second before continuing. "No lady fingers, fuzz buttles, snicker bombs, church burners, finger blasters, gut busters, zippity do das, or crap flappers?"

It took all he had to keep his composure but he did, not even a hint of a smile or a laugh, all business. Depending on how she'd reply, he had a few snarky one liners. She seemed the type that could take a joke and she certainly seemed friendly enough, and Vale knew, it was good to have friends in supply.

[member="Zonia Kalranoos"]​

 

[Alexandra Porte]

Alleycat grabbed her flight jacket off the back of her chair, then slipped it on over the rebel orange flight suit that was like a second skin to the Taanabian as it was worn everyday practically. Flipping her long sun kissed brown tresses out from inside the collar, brunette walked around the desk leaving a whittled down pile of data pads to peruse through later, then exited Rogue Leader's office just off the hangar to stretch her long legs a bit and do a walkabout of Rogue Squadron's ships. The mechanics knew if she found something not up to snuff they'd hear about it, and no one liked to get the Russo Glare if they could help it.

Coming around a closed strike foil of one of the X-wings, Alexandra noticed [member="Vale Endriss"] talking with a dark-haired woman near a stack of what looked like supply crates. Yes! Finally her request had been filed, well hopefully this was her shipment. Strolling over she quietly joined them, amused at Eight Ball's question to the lady.

[member="Zonia Kalranoos"]

 

[Zonia Kalranoos]

"Even better." the Prakithan retorted, smiling mischeviously as she turned to open one of the crates labeled "fragile". Others, which were stacked a few feet away, had no such labels. They were spare parts, each and every item Russo had ordered. And a few personal requests fulfilled, courtesy of Command. Pulling out two unopened bottles filled with a lustrous, golden liquid, she extended them towards two Rogues.

"Finest Cheedoan whiskey, properly aged. A bottle for each member of your squadron, Rogue Leader. Complements of the chiefs." she said, pointing finger above, to the upper layers of Sullustan underground compound. The beverage was expensive, way more costly than what Alliance could usually afford. But they deserved it, Zonia had to agree.

"Don't waste it on the first girl you see, Endriss." she added playfully, before shifting her attention to Alexandra - "Even worse, don't drink the entire bottle by yourself. Tonight."
He looked far to young to be able to hold much liquor. Garrus, on the other hand...

"I've managed to secure all the supplies you requested, Commander." Zonia reported and passed Russo the datapad which required her digital signature - "Do you mind if I call you Alexandra?"
The two would be working closely in the future, so there was no need for formalities. Kalranoos wanted a friendly and frank working relationship between them, since Russo seemed to be much of a practical woman, like herself.

"Took a bit of effort and some smuggling, which resulted in a slight delay... But everything is here." she said, idly pointing to the pile of crates. Then the dark-haired woman realized she didn't formally introduce herself.
"Oh, I forgot! I'm Zonia Kalranoos, economist and your supply manager. Well, everybody's supply manager these days; when they find out you have some semblance of organizational skills, they just load you with more work." she finalized with a smile, half-winking towards Vale.

[member="Alexandra Russo"] [member="Vale Endriss"]