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.

* * * * * * * * * * * *