Starwars - Sunday, January 30, 2000, 11:05 AM --------------------------------------------- Roberto descends the ramp from the Silver Lightning II, a datapad in his hand. Auxiliary Bay -- NRSC Deliverance This portion of the bay has been specifically designed to house, launch and maintain the four squadrons of fightercraft assigned to the Deliverance. The central section is wide open with a high arched ceiling to allow some fighters to be moved to the upper 'storage' areas on either side of the main landing bay. To one end of the hangar is the hazy blue magnetic shield which separates the vacuum of space from the atmospherically safe interior of the ship. Halfway up the inner wall is the 'Flight Control Room', from where the flight control operators oversee the activity below. This brightly lighted bay is organically colored in deep grays, whites and greens, much like the rest of the ship. Starfighter technicians and utility droids are scattered throughout the hangar area. Astromech droids are in abundance, following their pilots or doing other tasks for the fighter they're assigned to. Many of the pilots are also in evidence, some congregating near the muster room while others work on their ships alongside the techs. -=-=-=-=-=-=<>=-=-=-=-=-=- => Altair => Q6-V12 => Roberto => Quartermaster - NRSC Deliverance -=-=-=-=-=<>=-=-=-=-=- tarboard leads to Hangar Bay -- NRSC Deliverance. WIth a soft hiss, the entrance to the Intrepid slides down, and Bazil steps out, obviously disgruntled. He mumbles under his breath, adjusting the stow bag over his shoulder. In his civilian clothing, he looks quite out of place. Roberto sits on the edge of his ramp as he studies the datapad, he keeps muttering, "Not fast enough," or, "Why don't they ever give us more of those." Altair stands arguing with the Quartermaster, trying to make him authorize the removal of the random Blue, Black, and Archer ships from the flightline. She was sure that some careless pilot had simply forgotten to put their ship away. Stubbornly, the annoying quartermaster simply keeps repeating, "I'm sorry sir, but you are not authorized to do that." Alty looks annoyed. A pair of techs wander over to Bazil, looking him over suspiciously, and question him as to his identity. Bazil looks the pair over with a frown, before pulling out an ID card, and showing it to them briefly. Thus, he just walks off from the pair, across the deck, weaving through the various obstacles, namely, a set of misplaced B and X wings. Roberto hops up off the rack and jogs over to where Altair's at, hoping to distract her from her utter frustration, "Well I looked over my copies of the latest efficiency reports." Altair huffs in annoyance at the Quartermaster and turns to look at him. "Maybe you can reason with him, sir," she says, throwing a wary glance to the stubborn shipkeeper. In the meantime, she peeks over at the efficiency reports on the datapad held in Roberto's hands. "What did you think?" she asks, calming down slightly. She does not notice the man in civilian clothes meandering about the wayward ships on the flightline. A solitary voice rings out through Bazil's ears, as he turns softly, stopping in his tracks to seek the source of that very voice. Again, the voice is heard, and Bazil twists his face towards it. He smiles, albeit not enough, and begins stepping towards Altair slowly. Roberto shakes his head a bit, "Want me to be honest, or politically correct?" he asks simply, "I think the damned supply lines need to deliver supplies in a more effective manner. We should have twice as many spare parts for Wayland Squadron out in the perriphery, but they aren't available yet, paperwork holdups." Altair sighs in frustration. "Those parts still aren't available?" she asks, forgetting her annoyance with the Quartermaster, as it is replaced by annoyance with the supply lines. "I don't understand the holdups. They need parts. We send parts. What's the problem?" she grumbles to herself. "Any suggestions on how to do that?" She si utterly unaware of the furtive figure stalking her from the flightline. Roberto smiles a softly, almost secretive smile, "Give me ten minutes with the Quartermaster CO at HQ? I think he's got a wild hair up his ass again to get in the way of whatever he can," he shakes his head, "I do not like it when he does this." Bazil finally arrives near the duo speaking, and offers up, catching some of the conversation, "You could always contract out independent traders." He stands there, in a military stance, which just happens to contradict the general gist of clothing. Roberto blinks and turns to look at the man. Altair is about to reply to Roberto when a familiar fellow walks up. She turns to look at Bazil as he stands there in his civvie dress as if nothing were out of the ordinary. "Where have you been?" she asks him, arching a brow. "You were supposed to be here days ago! I was beginning to think you had gone back to diplo." "Customs," Bazil starts, and shrugs, "Corellian Customs. They thought I was an imperial spy, for some reason or another," He looks down at his clothing, "And so they detained me for a few days while they checked me out, and confirmed I was who I said I was. Not to mention I had a hell of a time finding the Deliverance at all. Bloody thing's in the middle of nowhere." Roberto grins a bit, and says a touch sarcastically, "It's hard to miss a major warship like this, kinda sticks out like a kryat dragon in a sport's caf." Bazil adds, nodding, "Unless it's about... ohh... 8000 units away from the majority of the system." The Roberto from old. He's about 6'1" tall, dark hair, dark eyes, and a very neatly trimmed, several week old black beard. Looks rather suave. his condition appears tired though. He looks like he has been through a lot, but keeps a smile on his face. He is wearing a Black Tauntaun-hide jacket, thin (not the parka style). He has on black pants that resemble a flight suit. There is a white buttondown shirt under his jacket. He has an NR StarOps patch on his right shoulder, it is an older type, from the first days of the NR. He also has an old rank insignia for Rear Admiral on his other shoulder, that is crossed out in black ink. This signifies his lack of being a Rear Admiral. He wears red and black armored boots, almost like that of a Scout Trooper from the Empire, only modified Red and Black. He wears a Heavy-Blaster pistol in a quick draw holster on his right hip, And a regular DD6 Blaster on the other Hip. There's also a vibro-knife hilt sticking up out of his right boot. Altair smirks slightly. "We were out here for some maneuvering excercises. If you had gotten up here on time, you would've had no trouble at all finding us." She then looks back to Roberto and adds playfully, "Our X-wings need their sensors upgraded." Roberto chuckles and shakes his head, he grabs the datapad and begins punching in on it again, "Give a guy a ship and expect him to produce," he nods, "Alright, well, I'll see what I can do with the New Republic Supply and Operations CO," he looks to the Quartermaster as he says this and then adds, "And if the Quartermaster Corps doesn't start to listen, I'll personally bust heads til they do," and the poor Sergeant blanches white. A sly grin crosses Bazil's mouth, as he inquires to Altair, "Speaking of... what ship do I get to play with now?" Roberto looks to Altair and suggest, "We have that refit garbage scow in the back that needs a pilot." Bazil looks towards Roberto, "Does it have weapons?" He offers a small grin, almost evily. Roberto chuckles, "Only against the pilot, the stench inside." Altair smirks at the smart-alecky pilots. "Well, if you really want the scow, I guess we could rename it Ghost 5, but I think it would look pretty silly in my squadron. I think the X-wing we have now looks better. But if you prefer the scow, maybe we could paint it to look really nice." Roberto nods and suggestions, "Last pilot who was late got to fly a purple and pink ship for fives weeks didn't they?" he winks to Altair. Bazil just shakes his head, grinning, "You guys are a hell of a lot more interesting than Diplo ever was." He offers a sly smirk, "I'll take the X-Wing. Better handling, you know. Even if garbage scows rarely get shot up." Roberto muses, "Rainbow 5," as he thinks and mutters to himself. Altair snickers. "Such a silly looking ship would make the Enemies laugh. Perhaps if we just dressed him up in a purple and pink flightsuit. And put puppies on his helmet. Although..maybe it would catch the enemies offguard. Who would expect a viscious puppy?" she says playfully. "Go check on your ship, pilot. See if it's still in any condition to fly, it's been empty for so long." Bazil nods, momentarily, "Gotcha. Good to be back to her, too." He turns, and steps off towards a line of X-Wings at the edge of the area.