Day
Two
Seven and Fox both woke
up early the next morning, though Jen decided it was in her best interest to
sleep in for a few more hours. They had
to report to the set at oh-five hundred, and only that late because they didn’t
have extensive makeup requirements.
Well, at least Fox didn’t, since he was just doing the motion capture
for Nuprin and would supply the voice later.
Seven, however, was going to have to undergo a dramatic change to look
even remotely like Xanthis.
As he had predicted,
security was very tight on the set. You
needed your ID card to get just about anywhere—though curiously, lanyards were
not supplied, but available in the commissary for five credits—and there were
always armed guards walking around. The
real Sith Squadron didn’t have the
kind of security that the show did.
He sadly hadn’t slept
much last night, due to both the very early wake up and the fact that he had
spent most of the night studying the script.
The story for this episode was…interesting, if nothing else. He wouldn’t exactly call it brilliant
writing, and didn’t think it would make for an engaging show. Or even a mediocre one, really. The episode was entitled “Within the Enemy’s
Grey Bottle of Lost Paradise.” He
originally thought the title was pretty stupid and hard to understand, until he
read the script itself and found that the title was very fitting, as the script
was also stupid and hard to understand.
Once he was done with the script, he was surer than ever that they didn’t
need to do anything to really sabotage production. This show was going to get cancelled quicker than a firefly
embarking on a crusade.
And yet, he and Fox
still showed up on time. Regardless of
the quality of the show, they did have a job to do. Once inside the studio they were quickly separated, with Seven
being dragged off to the makeup room and Fox ushered off with the motion
capture people.
Four hours it took to
get the Xanthis make up on. Four hours
of just sitting in a chair while people jabbed and poked at your face with
little make up pencils and stuck wigs on your head. The worst of the group was the one he dubbed “Jennifer the Make
Up Lady,” who did nothing but gossip and talk for four straight hours. When he was first told to report to Jennifer
in Makeup, he had thought maybe Jen had gotten a job in the crew and was
relieved to know that another Sith would be on the set. He was disappointed to find out that wasn’t
the case. Sith or not, though, she did
succeed in nearly driving him crazy. It
was one of the most trying experiences of his life, and it took all his will
power not to lash out and destroy the entire room. By the end of the four hours, though, when he was in full Xanthis
make up, he had to admit that it had helped him in one way. Xanthis—the real Xanthis—was someone driven
by anger, hatred and rage. After four
hours of sitting in a chair listening to Jennifer the Makeup Lady gossip with
her friends about which stars had implants and nose jobs, he was certainly
feeling a bit more like Xanthis. Urge
to kill rising…rising…rising…
He had to admit, though,
that they had done a very good job.
While not exact, the face was eerily similar in structure, coloring and
texture. And the wig they put on his
head was dead on. There was one
problem, though...
“Uh, exactly how are we
going to do my eyes,” he asked Trotter as he left the makeup room. “You’re not going to poke them out or
anything, right?”
Trotter laughed. “No, no, of course not.” Then he paused for a moment and seemed to
think it over. “Although, it would save money on the CGI effects to make it
practical…”
At this point he seemed
to catch the horror washing across Seven’s face.
“Oh, fine, we’ll make it
CGI,” he said and he walked off.
The set was alive with
activity. People scurried around the
stage, all doing their own little activities.
Lights were being hung, cameras were being set…everyone was doing
something, it seemed. The set itself
was very…well, cheap looking. The first
scene of the day was being shot on the bridge of the SSD it seemed. The design
for the set was very accurate, as it wasn’t very hard to get design specs for a
ship. However, he did notice some
dramatic changes, probably made for show purposes. It was much smaller than a real bridge, for one. They only had about the front half of the
bridge on this set, with the rest probably being off on some other set. The viewports had no transparisteel, just
empty panes. There was also a large
green screen behind them, in what would no doubt end up background space. The crew pits weren’t on this set either,
now that he noticed it. Really just the
front part of the bridge. For a moment
he was lost in the atmosphere, just checking out this fake bridge, when he was
interrupted.
“Okay, okay, main cast
gather around!” Trotter yelled out. At
his command, people from all parts of the stage walked towards him and gathered
in a large circle, with Trotter in the middle.
Once everyone was gathered, he continued. “All right, all right, we got some new faces here today, so we’re
going to do some introductions. I want
everyone to know each other and be comfortable around one another. A well-knit cast is a happy cast. And a happy cast does their jobs quickly so
I don’t end up going crazy. I’ll go
first. I’m Trotter, the show’s
director.”
There was a brief
silence as if everyone expected someone else to go next.
“All right, all right
let’s start with the people already cast,” Trotter said. “Just say your name and who you’re
playing. And let’s make it quick,
people, time is money and we don’t have a lot of either. ”
Not to anyone’s
surprise, Owen was the first to say something.
“Hi, I’m Owen. You might
remember me from such plays as Telmah,
and Antilles IV. Today I’m here as the Executive Producer of
Sith Squadron, and I also play Reno, the star of the show and your boss, both
in the show and in real life. For those
interested, you can also see me in—”
“Next!” Trotter
interrupted.
“Nicole Vest,” she
introduced herself as, “I play Lord Pilot Thunder.”
“I’m Zak Tucker, and I’m
playing Jace Sidrona. I‘ve been acting
for four years, and was previously a male stripper…”
“Adam Craiger,” the next
guy interrupted, his voice suave and cocky.
“I play Ryvo Lorell. Though he
isn’t really much different from me. We
both know how to get the ladies.”
“Laura Cain,” the next
person said. “I play Sky, though right
now I would just like to say that I’m not too happy with how my character has
been portrayed so far…”
“Save it, Laura,”
Trotter interrupted. “Next.”
“I’m Michael Hicks,” the
next guy said. “I play Seven. This is my first real acting gig and I’m
just happy to be here.”
“Stephanie Gowan,” the
woman next to Hicks said. “I play
Palin.”
“Danielle Peterson,” the
next said. “I play Dalaz Skatell, also
known as Skate.”
“I play Star, real name
Michelle Hale.”
“Lindsey Tillery,” a
brunette woman said. “I play Jen.”
“I’m Adam Green,” a
short human said, “and I do the voice for Narska Plo’kre.”
Seven was confused by
that last one. Why would you need to do
only a voice for Narska Plo’kre?
Unless…oh, geez. Narska was
probably going to be a CGI character, like Fox and Nuprin. Why couldn’t they just go out and hire a
real Bothan? Seems like it would be
easier…
“Wonderful, wonderful,”
Trotter said. “And our new cast? Quickly, quickly…”
“I’m Barnwell,” someone
in the crowd said. Seven recognized him
as the guy who burst into the rap at the audition. “Doug Barnwell. I’m going to be doing the voice of Fox.”
Suddenly, everyone
turned to Seven.
“Um, hi, I’m S—” He felt a quick stomp on his foot, coming
from Fox. The real Fox. “Er, Gar Brink. I’m going to be playing Xanthis.”
“I’m Ben Ring,” Fox
said, after Seven was done. “I’m the
voice of Nuprin.”
And last to speak up…
“My name is Bryan C.,”
he said. “I’m going to be playing
Gimmer.”
“Great, great, now we
all know each other,” Trotter said. “A
few more quick introductions, just for the new guys. Our two lead writers are sitting right over there at the buffet
table. Let me just point them out for
you.”
Everyone turned towards
the buffet table, where two people were loading their plates up with food. Neither was dressed very well, though that
should be expected from people living on a writer’s salary.
“The shorter guy wearing
the shorts and Corellian flower shirt is Mike D., the bigger guy is Tommy
G. They’re the two writers for the
show. Any and all questions about
scripts should be directed at them.”
“Hey, I got a question”
Zak said. “How come our SSD is
called…the SSD? I mean, don’t you think you could’ve thought
of something a little more original?”
Mike and Tommy exchanged
glances. They seemed to be a little
confused by the question, or perhaps just didn’t know the answer. Finally, after a few seconds, Tommy
responded by giving Zak what Vanicus always called a “very uncivilized finger
gesture” before returning to the buffet.
“Well said, well said,”
Trotter commented. “Now, back to the
matter at hand. Everybody take their
places on the set. We’re shooting scene
thirty-seven. Slug line is Interior -
SSD Bridge. That means bridge crew
extras, get to your places.
Vanicus? Where’s Vanicus?”
“Haven’t seen him,” Jason said.
“Find him.”
“Finding him, sir!”
There was a pause on the
set while some assistants ran out to find the actor who played Vanicus. Seven was actually glad for the slight
break. In all the chaos of the
introductions, he had kind of forgotten why he was here. He needed to scope things out and
scout. So far all he’d done is get
angry at the makeup people and have a round of introductions with people that
he knew, yet at the same time, didn‘t.
It was certainly weird
seeing people refer to themselves as “Thunder” and “Palin” and “Reno” without
them actually being the real people. It
was also funny to think that these people thought the characters they were
portraying were completely fictional.
Little did they know…
Someone tapped him on
the shoulder and he looked over to see Fox standing behind him. Fox was already wearing his blue suit with
the motion capture sensors attached. He
actually looked very ridiculous in the outfit.
More ridiculous than the flash suit he wore on Reuss. Seven would’ve smirked, but he had a feeling
that if he saw himself in a mirror right now and saw Xanthis staring back, he
wouldn’t think it so funny.
“So what do you think?”
Fox asked.
“I think this group is
stranger than the real Sith Squadron,” Seven said.
“I meant about our
mission here,” Fox said. “Have you
thought about what we should do yet?”
Seven shook his
head. “Not yet. We don’t have enough information yet. I don’t want to jump the gun on this
one. We wait for now, and we play our
parts to the best of our abilities. Got
it?”
“Got it.”
“Found Vanicus!” Jason
yelled as he ran back onto the set.
“Where?” Trotter asked.
“In his trailer. He won’t leave. He’s in a mood.”
Trotter sighed. “I hate actors…anyway, forget him for
now. We can shoot his shots in this
scene later. I still want everyone in
this scene on set, that includes bridge crew, Vanicus’ double and the
Sith. Mike, Steph, you’re in this
scene, get on the set. All right, all
right, can we do this now?”
“Doing it, sir!” Jason
yelled.
Trotter smiled and began
to move about the set, putting everyone where they needed to be and…well,
directing.
“Beautiful! All right, I want a camera tight on Steph’s
face to start this shot, we pull back to reveal we’re on the bridge, but don’t
pull back all the way, and leave the focus on Steph. Where’s Vanicus’ stand-in?
Greg? There you are. All right, stand there in the back facing
the viewport. Remember, you’re looking
to the battle off to the starboard.
Keep your eyeline about so-so high, okay? Camera, don’t focus too much on Greg, leave him fuzzy in the
background. Mike, stand to her left.
No, her other left. There,
perfect. All right, we’re going now…can
we go?”
“We’re going, sir!”
Trotter sat down in his
director’s chair, leaned back and smiled.
“And…action.”
* * * * * * * * *
* * *
Seven decided rather
quickly that he didn’t like acting, and he hadn‘t even gotten to any of his
scenes yet. If the hours in make up had
driven him to the very edge of sanity, the rest of the day so far had knocked
him over the edge. He had lost count of
the hours they had spent on some scenes, seemingly making no progress at
all. They would shoot the scene and
Trotter would yell out “cut”. Then they
would shoot it again from a different angle.
Then a different angle. Then
another different angle. And that
doesn’t even count the times that someone messed up a line and they had to
start over, which was a frequent occurrence.
His first shooting scene was coming up soon, though, and he hoped that
once he got to do something the day wouldn’t seem so long.
Pertaining to his
mission, he hadn’t really gotten much information yet, though he hadn’t
expected to have much at this point anyway.
Before he could understand how to bring the production of this show
down, he had to understand how everything worked, and who all the players
involved were. At the moment, he was
just making some personality profiles of the major players.
Trotter never seemed to
slow down. He knew how to move in only
one speed, and it was full speed. Seven
didn’t remember a time when the director wasn’t saying something to someone.
Owen seemed to somehow
be even more egotistical than the real Reno, which struck Seven as
remarkable. The man actually made Reno
look humble and modest. And just like
the real Reno, he didn’t really seem to have much to actually brag about,
though it didn’t stop either of them.
The rest of the cast was fairly unremarkable, so far. He hadn’t really gotten to speak to most, as
Seven was still “the new guy” and most people weren’t associating themselves
with him yet. Fox was off on another
set at the moment doing some motion capture work for one of his scenes. What information the hybrid had gathered so
far, if anything, Seven didn’t know.
Right now they were
filming a sequence that was supposedly on an “alien planet.” What constituted an “alien planet” here was
some orange sand thrown on the ground with giant Styrofoam rocks scattered
throughout the area. There were some
fake trees on the perimeter and a giant green screen on the back wall. Seven assumed that the rest of the area
would be either a matte painting or computer generated. Sadow forbid they go out and shoot on
location, after all.
Michael Hicks, their
Seven, was on the set right now with some extras decked out in Sith Squadron’s
trademark red stormtrooper armor. Most
of the other cast members were off on Set Four doing some second unit shooting,
although some were sitting around in catering having some lunch. Seven’s first scene was on this “alien
planet” and would be starting any minute.
He didn’t want to miss it. He
also didn’t want to miss Michael’s scene, though, as he found it rather amusing
watching someone else be “Seven.” Seven actually thought Michael was fairly
good as Seven, though he did tend to overplay it a bit. However, considering the dialogue in the
script—not to mention Trotter’s directions—that seemed to be the norm. But despite Seven’s opinions of Michael’s
acting, Trotter didn’t seem to be too impressed.
“No no, Michael,”
Trotter said, getting up off his chair and walking onto the set, “I’m just not
feeling it. You’re playing Seven far
too much as a hero, and not enough as…a doofus. Remember, despite being a Sith, this kid is a moron. He’s a loser, a screw-up. He tries to be a hero, but he fails. Keep that in mind. You’re not the hero of this story, Reno is. You’re plucky comic relief, at most. Remember…loser. Think like a loser. Act
like a loser. Be a loser. Be…Seven.”
Seven wondered if
Trotter could hear his teeth grinding.
So Michael tried his
scene again, this time playing Seven, and much to the real Seven’s chagrin,
more doofus-like. The result was not
pretty to Seven, perhaps because it hit a little too close to home, but Trotter
seemed happy with it. And then, before
he even realized it, they were calling him onto the set for his first scene.
He still wasn’t entirely used to looking something like
Xanthis, or dressing like him. It wasn’t all a bad thing, though. However much he hated the black wig and make
up, he had to admit the robes they gave him for Xanthis looked way cool. Much better than any Sith robes that Reno
had ever given him.
“Okay, okay, this is how
we’re working it,” Trotter said as Seven stepped onto the sandy “alien
planet.” He looked at Seven. “Gar, you’re standing over there next to
that big rock. Michael, off the set,
we’re shooting your half after this.
Okay Gar, this is the opening scene to the big finale—”
“How can it be the
finale already?” Seven asked. “It’s my
first scene.”
“It’s holovision, kid,”
he said. “We don’t shoot things in
order. That would be pretty darned
impractical and costly, wouldn’t it?”
“I guess I never really
thought—”
“What a surprise…”
Trotter muttered, but before Seven could respond Trotter continued. “Moving on.
Okay, you’re going to walk in from this side. Wind machine is going to be placed over here to make your robes
all swooshy and make it a little more dramatic. We’re going to overcrank the shot and—”
“Over what?”
“Overcrank,” Trotter
replied, as if the answer were obvious.
When it became clear to Trotter that Seven had no idea what he was
talking about, he sighed. “Overcrank.”
he repeated, a bit slower this time, as if somehow saying it slower would make
Seven understand more. “Shoot the film
in fast motion so that when we play it in regular motion it looks like it’s
slow motion. Just what level of
experience do you have in this business anyway?”
“Uhhh…”
“Forget it. Just do it the way I say. No dialogue for this first shot, we just
want your initial walk onto the main set.
Make your walk look scary, and determined. Remember, you’re Xanthis.
You don’t screw around. You’ve
come to maim and kill and all that other good stuff. Don’t just walk…walk,
you know what I mean? And walk
dramatically. But not too
dramatically. Kind of medium
dramatically, you know what I mean?”
Seven nodded, though
truth be told, he had no idea what the hell Trotter was talking about. How did one walk dramatically? Maybe a little swagger in the step? No, he didn’t want to look drunk. Oh man, this reeked. He was starting to miss just watching the
actors on the HoloUnit. Being one kind of sucked.
Trotter went back to his
chair and sat down. “All right, I’d
like to get this shot now. Can we get
it now?”
“Getting it, sir!”
“Excellent. Ready, Gar?”
“Um…yeah?”
“Love the enthusiasm,
kid, keep it up. All right…action.”
And with that word,
Seven tried to walk meanly, and scarily, and medium dramatically, although he
didn’t think he really got any of them down that well.
“Cut,” Trotter
said. At his word, a large group of
people rushed the set. Some people were
the makeup crew, who were dabbing at Seven‘s face, as if that ten-step walk had
somehow ruined their work and they had to fix it. Others were smoothing out the sand, wiping away his footprints as
if he had never been there. Trotter
remained in his chair. “Good, kid, good, nice dramatic walking…but a bit too
dramatic. Try to lessen the drama
there. Do it again.”
So, once everyone was
off the set, they shot the walk again.
Seven actually thought it went better this time, but Trotter didn’t seem
to think so. Cut was yelled, the people
rushed the set again, and Trotter remained in his chair.
“Nice, nice…but not
dramatic enough. I think you lost something
in that one. Not enough evil in the
walk…definitely need more drama.”
So they did it
again. And again. And again.
Eventually he lost track of how many takes they did, and how many steps
he had taken. Star once told him that
as long as you walked 20,000 steps a day you would be in good shape. He was pretty sure he had topped that by now. And before lunch, too.
“Okay, we’ll use that
last one,” Trotter said eventually, after what seemed like a million different
takes on just the initial walk onto the set.
With the walk now done, they proceeded to shoot a couple more minor
shots before they got to dialogue, mostly consisting just of times when Seven
needed to turn his head or something.
None of those took long, though, and they were soon finished with
that.
“Michael, back on set,”
Trotter said. “Okay, before we try this
scene in multiple shots I wanna see how it plays out in one take. Do you both have your lightsabers? No?
Why not? Prop Master, get them
their lightsabers.”
Nina, their Prop Master ran off and returned a minute later,
with two lightsabers in her hands.
Except…they weren’t real lightsabers.
The handles looked to be real enough, but there was what looked like a
plastic lightsaber blade sticking out of the end, like a children’s toy. Nina handed Seven the red lightsaber, and
gave the green one to Michael. Seven
looked at the saber and made a face. He
didn’t like a red saber, even if it was just a fake one for shooting
purposes. His own personal lightsaber—a
real one, to boot—was emerald green. He
liked that one. Trotter apparently
picked up on his discomfort.
“Is there a problem?” he
asked.
“It’s not a real
lightsaber,” Seven said.
“It’s not a real alien
planet either,” Trotter muttered sarcastically. “What’s your point?”
“Well, nothing, I guess,
but also…it’s red.”
“Of course it’s red,”
Trotter responded. “You’re evil. Evil people have red lightsabers.”
“I just kind of thought
that…ya know, maybe I could have a green one.
I like green.”
“You can’t have a green
lightsaber. Green and blue are reserved
for good guys, red is for bad guys.
That’s the way it works. It’s a
metaphor, kid. Think of traffic control
lights. Red means stop…like, stopping
you from doing good, or something.
Green, on the other hand, means go.
Go…um…and be free, and be free to do good stuff, because you can go, and
be free…due to your green lightsaber.
It‘s a metaphor.”
“Well, what does blue
mean?” Seven asked.
“Nothing, it just looks
good.”
“Can I at least have a
purple lightsaber? Evil people can have
purple lightsabers.”
Hell, the real Xanthis has a purple lightsaber…
Trotter shook his
head. “Sorry, no can do. Purple lightsabers are reserved for women,
gay people and bald black guys.” He
gave Seven a brief look over. “Two of
those I‘m sure you‘re not…”
“Excuse me—” he began,
but didn’t get very far before Trotter interrupted.
“You’re excused, now
let’s just use the damn red saber and get on with this thing. Okay, Michael, stand opposite side of Gar
there to start off. As you guys say
your lines, I want you to slowly circle around each other. Occasionally let the tips of the sabers
touch, too. Show some hostility. Neither of you like each other. Remember, Xanthis is here to kill you, okay,
Seven?”
Used to responding to
that name, both he and Michael both said, “Okay” back. Trotter shot him a confused look.
“I said Seven, not
Xanthis, thank you,” he said. “I don’t believe you’re Seven now, are you?”
“Sorry.”
“I’m sure. All right, I think we’re ready here.” Trotter took his place on his chair
again. Seven tried to remember the
really corny lines from the script that he had tried to memorize the night
before. It was amazing how bad some of
this dialogue was. Seven had said some
pretty stupid things in his life—most of them pick up lines directed at
Palin—but none of them even rivaled the stuff in this script.
“Aaaand…action.”
Seven started to circle
Michael, his lightsaber up in a two-handed defensive position, just as Thunder
had taught him to do while in a duel.
Before he could even say his first line, though, Trotter interrupted
them.
“Cut! Gar, what are you doing?” he asked.
Seven was really
confused, as he hadn’t even said anything to screw the shot up. “Uhh, I don’t know.”
“Apparently you don’t,”
he said. “Who taught you how told hold
a lightsaber like that? It’s all wrong,
just all wrong. Your legs are way too
far apart, and the saber is being held way too far in.”
“That’s how Thu…um…well,
that’s how I was taught. I have some
experience in real dueling, and—”
“I don’t care about real
dueling, kid,” Trotter said. “This
isn’t real dueling. This is movie-style
dueling, which has nothing to do with reality.
Hold your saber with one hand, and keep it really high, like around your
face high…and instead of holding it vertical, hold it so it’s horizontal…”
“Umm…I would get my legs
chopped off pretty quickly with that stance…”
“What did I say?
Movie-style, not real. Nobody
cares about reality in these kinds of shows.
People want to watch something that’s unrealistic and flashy, not boring
and real. Now do it like I said. All right…action.”
Seven began to circle
Michael again, this time in the ridiculous dueling stance that Trotter had told
him to use.
“Nice work with the
stance, Gar,” Trotter said. Considering
they were shooting, Seven assumed that Trotter’s voice could just be edited out
in Post.
He felt ridiculous using
that fighting stance, though, and was just glad a dueling expert like Thunder
wasn’t around to see it. After she was
done laughing herself silly, she would smack the hell out of him for doing this—even
if just for a holoshow—and then smack Trotter even harder for suggesting
it. But he couldn’t think of this stuff
now. He had dialogue to deliver.
“Ah, Seven,” he
said. “I see that you have been lured
into my most excellently laid trap. A
shame that you will not live long enough to truly appreciate the excellent
exellentness of it, for it was a plan that was truly…excellent.”
Why did he have to waste his time trying to sabotage this show again?
“You got it wrong,
dude,” Michael said. What the hell…when
did Seven ever use the word “dude?” If
Sith Squadron really did have a leak, it apparently wasn’t a very good
one. Dude? “You totally fell
into the trap of the greatest squadron ever in the history of squadrons…Sith
Squadron!”
“C’mon, touch the
sabers…I wanna see more hostility here…” Trotter said.
Seven batted his
“lightsaber” at Michael’s, knocking it to the side a bit.
“Your line, Gar, your
line…” Trotter reminded him.
“You cannot defeat me,
young Seven,” Seven said. “Remember
that Evil will always triumph, because Good is dumb.”
“Cut!” Trotter
yelled. “Nice, nice, I liked it. However, let’s try it from some different
angles, and with some close-ups.”
Seven sighed. It was going to be a long day.
* * * * * * * * *
* * *
The cafeteria was a
welcome sight to Seven after hours of filming.
None of the food smelled particularly good, but it beat being out on
set. And after having been awake since
the wee hours of the morning, he really could use a real meal to eat. Craft services had set out a snack table for
the cast to munch on between meal periods, but frankly it wasn’t enough. He needed some real food.
He immediately stood in
line and grabbed a tray. Most of the
main actors and extras were already either sitting down and eating, or standing
in line waiting to get food. Seven
didn’t see Fox anywhere. He did see
lots of familiar, or somewhat familiar, faces, though. There was “Thunder”, and “Jace”, and
“Skate”…familiar faces, but not. This
was so weird…
He advanced in line,
until finally it was his turn. The man
behind the counter in the cafeteria he recognized instantly. He had seen him during his audition. It was the short, stocky man who had been
serving Trotter, Owen and Anise lunch during the auditions. Now that he got a good chance to look at
him, Seven noticed the grizzled, hard expression that his face carried.
“Hi,” Seven said, not
bothering to extend his hand over the cafeteria counter. “I’m Gar.
I saw you yesterday at the auditions.
You work with craft services?”
“Yes, work with
catering,” the man replied. “Zhukov, is
name.”
“A pleasure to meet
you,” Seven said. “So what’s on the
menu?”
Zhukov grabbed a ladle,
dumped it into a bin with some kind of green, chunky material, then plopped it
down on Seven’s plate. “Eat,” he
said. “Is good for you.”
Seven eyed it
suspiciously. “But what is it?”
“Is good for you,”
Zhukov repeated.
“I got that part…but
what’s it called? What is it?”
“Is…good for you.”
Seven nodded and started
to walk off. “Thanks,” he called
back. He found a seat at an empty table
and sat down. For a minute he just sat
and stared at the green, chunky glop in front of him. Despite Zhukov’s attempt to convince Seven how good it was for
him, he still had his doubts. And with
good reason, he thought. The food—and
he used that term loosely—didn’t look as appetizing as the worst thing to eat
on the SSD.
“Oh, just eat it,” he
heard a voice say. He turned from his
plate and saw Fox sitting down next to him at their table. “Is good for you.”
Seven smirked. “So I hear,” he said back. “So how are things on your set?”
“I’m having a blast so
far,” Fox said. “For the first time in
my life people are paying attention to me.
Well…outside of a laboratory, that is.
The second unit director said I had talent. I think I may really be cut out for this acting thing. Who knows, I might just stay here and do it
full time. Just think of it…coming to a theater near you…‘Sith Squadron: The
Movie’, starring Fox Starfighter.”
“I’m sure your parents
would be thrilled,” Seven sarcastically muttered, while pushing away his plate
of non-eaten food and standing up to leave.
“Thanks…hey, shut up!”
* * * * * * * * *
* * *
Seven stumbled his way
into the docking bay and up the ramp of the Seal
Breaker, with Fox in tow. His guess
had been right. It had been a long
day. A very long day. One of the longest of his life. The thought that tomorrow would bring the
same joys as today wasn’t a comforting thought.
At least I don’t look like Xanthis
anymore…
Taking off the Xanthis
makeup had thankfully been a process that was much quicker than applying it had
been. The only real problem with it was
knowing that in only a couple of hours, after a night’s sleep, he would have to
wake up and do it all over again. It
was enough to make him cry. If he had
the energy to, that was.
When they got aboard the
ship they found that Jen was sitting in the lounge of the Seal Breaker enjoying a bottle of Whyren’s Reserve, which annoyed
Seven to no end. That he spent a day in
hell while she sat at the bar was so unfair that it didn’t even register on the
galactic scale of fairness.
“Well this is a nice
little scene,” he said, sarcasm creeping into his voice. “Enjoying yourself, are you? Having fun?” Seven plopped down on the couch.
Fox opted not to take a seat on the sofa, choosing instead to curl into
a ball on the ground at the foot of the couch and fall asleep.
“Oh, loads,” Jen
said. “How was the first day?”
“A nightmare,” Seven
said. “I hate acting. I hate it.
Regardless of paychecks, I can’t imagine why anyone does this day in and
day out. Everyone there is either
shallow, egotistical, or just plain crazy.
That’s not even mentioning the more vicious people on the set. I think some of them are more violent than
people in our squadron. It‘s like Sith
Squadron…only more evil.”
“That’s showbiz, kid,”
Jen said. “What did you find out about
the show?”
“Nothing useful yet,”
Seven said. “But I didn’t try. The goal today was to just blend in and not
stand out.”
“And did you?”
“Somewhat,” Seven
replied. “Let’s just say that I didn’t
make a bigger scene than some of the other actors on the set. I did learn some things about our lives,
though. Apparently we‘re doing
everything wrong.”
“How so?”
“Well…” he started
slowly. “Evil people can only have red lightsabers.”
“I’ll have to send a
memo to the squadron to have all our lightsaber colors changed, then,” Jen
sarcastically muttered. “Only Reno has
a red saber. Two, in fact. Overachiever. What else?”
“Good guys have green
and blue.”
“Well, I guess you,
Thunder, Jace, Palin and Skate are going to have to be kicked out of the
squadron, then. Tough draw, but hey,
what you gonna do? We can’t allow good
guys in our group. It’d ruin our image. What about purple lightsabers?”
“Only for women, bald
black guys and gay people.”
“Interesting,” Jen
said. “Star and I are safe then, I
suppose. Makes you wonder about
Xanthis, though…”
Despite his fatigue,
that comment drew a smile from Seven.
“Yeah, remind me to ask
him about that next time I see him,” Seven remarked. “By the way, when we get back, remind me to tell Thunder she
knows nothing about dueling, at least according to Trotter. She’s been doing it all wrong for years.”
“I’m sure that’ll go
over well with her,” Jen said. “So
what’s the plan for tomorrow?”
“The same as today,”
Seven said. “I need more information.”
Jen shook her head in
disapproval. “You’re wasting too much
time, Seven,” she said. “We’re already
done with two of our seven days. We
have four days left to do something before we go to our fallback plan. We can’t take too much time just collecting
information.”
“I don’t intend to,” he
shot back, giving her a glance.
“Good,” she said,
“because we don’t have time to waste.”
“You know, you keep
saying ‘we,’” Seven noted. “’We’re
already done’, ‘we have four days to do something’, ‘we can’t take too much
time’…but so far, we—meaning Fox and
I—haven’t seen too much work from you. Two days into the mission and I’m not sure
you’ve left the bar yet. I know Reno
put you in charge of this mission, but what exactly is it that you’re doing
here? I know you’re not on the cast,
and you’re not with the crew. What are
you doing?”
Jen shot him a harsh
glance, a much harsher one than even he was used to seeing from her. And Seven was nothing short of an expert at
receiving harsh glances from women. He
couldn‘t quite pin this one. It was
something between scorn, contempt and defensiveness. “That’s none of your
business, Lieutenant,” she shot back,
using a title that was used so rarely that Seven actually forgot he had it
until she mentioned it.
“Roger that…Colonel,” he
said back, tossing in her own rank. He
certainly didn’t understand Jen’s sudden hostility towards him, but he was far
too tired to think about it now. He was
tired and he needed sleep. To make it
even worse, he had the strange feeling that tomorrow was going to be just as
bad as today was.
* * * * * * * * *
* * *
The second day without
Seven around really wasn’t any more exciting than the first. At first she thought not having Seven around
would be a joy. He had been such an
annoyance these last few weeks that a break from him sounded like paradise. She
was starting to realize, however, that she was wrong.
Without him around,
there wasn’t anyone to give in to her demands.
No one to change the channel on the holopad, or grab her something to
drink, or fetch anything for her. She
had to do it all herself. She hadn’t
realized how accustomed she’d grown to having Seven around as her slave.
Most of the day she had
spent just wandering around the SSD,
at least getting a little exercise. In
between that, she spent her time resting.
Eat, rest, exercise. Rest, eat,
exercise. Exercise, rest, eat. That was how she was spending her time.
To make matters worse, everyone was still busy. People were either out on missions, or
hunting down possible leaks. So far, no
leaks had been found.
Something scary occurred
to her.
She
didn’t…miss…Seven…did she?
No, of course she
didn’t. That was a stupid thing to
think. Seven was annoying. Always trying to do things for her and make
her happy. Yeah, annoying. She didn’t want him around her, hanging off
every word she said, every whim she had.
She liked being alone. She
didn’t need any company, especially his.
Yeah. That was it. She certainly didn’t miss him.
Not at all.
* * * * * * * * *
* * *