Day Three

     Day Two on the set—Day Three on the mission—was even less eventful than Day One as far as news went, though to be fair he was still in his “basic information” gathering mode.  Seven still wasn’t asking questions, as he didn’t want to make himself look suspicious.  He just stood around quietly in the corners, watching everyone, and did as Trotter told him to. 

     He was shooting his first action scene, though.  It was…something else, to say the least.  It was so fake looking during filming that he was actually embarrassed to be participating in it.  He only hoped that it would look at least a little better when the product was finished.  Besides that, though, he was having major problems with the scene and how it played out.  He was supposed to be in the middle of a battle on the alien planet with a legion of his droid soldiers at his command, engaging in combat against Sith Squadron.  What he had was the same sandy “alien planet” he seemed to always shoot on, and no practical battle droids.  They were going to be added in later via CGI…of course. 

     “Cut!” Trotter yelled, visibly angry, after Seven broke character and stood up.  “What?  What is it, Gar?”

     “Okay, where is the logic in this?”  Seven asked.  “The script says I have one-hundred and fifty battle droids here with me, and they’re all shooting at Thunder and Palin for like three minutes straight, but not one of the droids hits either of them.  That just seems…well…impossible.”

     “It’s quite possible,” Trotter grunted back, “because it says so in the script.  If the script believes it‘s possible, then it’s possible.”

     “Yeah, but, well,” Seven stumbled to find the right words.  “Droids have pinpoint accuracy with their aim, and the chances of one-hundred and fifty of them shooting at two people for several minutes without hitting either is…well…small.  Very…small.”

     Trotter glared at Seven for a minute, but then wrapped his arm around Seven’s shoulder and begin to walk him off the set, where Mike and Tommy were standing.  “Okay, I’d like to introduce you to a little theory that we use on holoshows,” Trotter said.  “It’s called the Conditional Antagonist Targeting Precision Deficiency Theorem.  Mike, tell Gar here the theory.”

     “It’s quite simple, really,” Mike said.  “The accuracy of the bad guy's aim is directly proportional to the importance of the character he's aiming at."

    Seven looked from Trotter to Tommy to Mike.  “Meaning...?”

     “Meaning shut up and do the damn scene as it was written,” Trotter finished, before turning around and returning to his chair.  When he saw that Seven wasn’t very satisfied with that explanation, he continued.  “Fine, fine, uh…just pretend that their phasers are set on ‘miss’ or something.”

     “Phasers?”

     “Just shoot the damn scene!” Trotter yelled.

     What he wouldn’t give to be back on the SSD getting slapped by Palin…

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

     What Palin wouldn’t give to have Seven back on the SSD to slap around, if only for a little bit…

     To put it frankly, Palin was bored.  Very, very bored.  She had reason to be bored, too.  Everyone, it seemed, was out on a mission of some sort, or out having fun.  Everyone, that is, except for her.  She was stuck on the SSD pretty much doing absolutely nothing.  Well, nothing except for wondering what everyone else was off doing.

     Reno, Sky and Star were wandering around the SSD somewhere, doing Sadow knows what.  Reno had deemed that the information leak must’ve come from someone either currently on the SSD, or someone no longer on the SSD.  To that end, he had ordered Sky to search records of outgoing transmissions for the last few months, and crew rosters of anyone in the squadron or staff that was no longer there.  Star was taking on some of that list, as it was a rather big list.  Sith Squadron had lost some personnel in their battles with Xanthis and TOS.  Any one of them could’ve leaked information on the squad to some studio big wig.  She wasn’t sure what Reno was doing to hunt down the leak, as she hadn’t seen or heard from him since the briefing.

     She also had no idea where Thunder, Jace, Ryvo and Skate were.  They had left weeks ago on some mission and Palin hadn’t heard from any of them since.  Reno didn’t seem to expect them back for a while, though.  What they were doing, she had no clue.  She assumed she would hear about it later, after they had returned, but could be weeks from now, or a month.  She had no idea when any of them would return.

     That left only three others: Jen, Fox and Seven.

     Sadow knew what they were doing on Coruscant.  She had surmised that they would probably try to infiltrate the set, most likely as actors or crew.  It figured, though.  While Palin was stuck on the SSD being bored out of her mind, Seven was off on Coruscant probably having the time of his life.  He got to play “actor” for a while and be on a big Coruscant set.  He was probably rubbing elbows with the Coruscant Elite, right now.

     And while he was off on Coruscant, Palin was trapped on the SSD, with nothing to do.  She had never realized until now how boring it was without Seven around.  He might’ve been annoying, but at least he was someone to talk to, or at the least someone to laugh at.  She still didn’t miss him, though.  Even though it was quieter without him around, and more boring, she still didn’t miss him.  Nor did she think she was going to start any time soon.  It was just…less hectic without him around.  Sometimes that was a good thing, and sometimes it was a bad thing.  In this case, perhaps it was the latter.

     Palin sighed, and again wondered what everyone was up to while she sat alone in her quarters in the darkness of night…

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

     Seven was dead tired, but the thought that he only had one more scene to shoot that day was extremely comforting.  The day had been just as long and tiresome as Seven had feared, and he was ready to get back to the Seal Breaker and hit the sack.  But…he had to finish one more scene.  The scene itself was rather basic.  It was just Xanthis and Reno in the “docking bay” of the SSD about to duel, when a bunch of the SSD’s stormtroopers would come through the door—which would “explode”—and point their guns at Xanthis.  Trotter had promised that it would be the final scene of the day, and that they would shoot the duel later.

     “Okay, okay,” Trotter said.  “I know we all want to go home, so let’s try to get this done in one take.  We’re staying simple with this scene.  We’ll shoot from far back for now and shoot any close ups or pick-ups tomorrow.  Let’s just get this done and go home.  All right, Owen, Gar, to your places.  Stormtrooper extras, behind the door, and go on your cue.”

     Everyone nodded and went to their places.  Nina the Prop Master, who they just called “Props” on the set, handed Seven his red lightsaber and Owen a green lightsaber.  At first he wondered why “Reno” would have a green lightsaber and not a red one, and then he remembered:  Red is evil, green is good.  It still seemed odd seeing Reno—even if it wasn’t the real Reno—with a green lightsaber.

     As it happened, this was also the scene that Seven had auditioned to on his first day, so he knew the dialogue very well.  Or at least most of it.  He noticed that some of it had been changed, and there was more added to the end.  He still thought it sucked a big one, but he knew it.  Seven and Owen waited as Trotter talked with Melissa, the First Camera Operator, about how to shoot the scene.  Once he was done and everything was set up, he took his seat.

     “All right, let’s do this…and…action.”

     “So, Reno, we meet again, for the first time, for the last time…” Seven said

     “It will only be the last time for you, Xanthis, my evil arch-nemesis,” Owen said.  “Here, today, in this very place, we will end our long and bitter feud.”

     “The only thing that will end here, old enemy, is your life.  You will bow before me.”

     “Never, Xanthis!” Owen yelled.  “Sith Squadron shall never bow to the evil evilness of TOS!”

     “I suppose it is time, then, to…how you say…do it to—”

     “Whoa who whoa,” Owen said, “Never steal Reno’s catchphrase.  That’s for only Reno to say.  Now, let us do it to it!”

     “So, it is just me and you,” Seven said.  “As it should be.”

     “I think not,” Reno said.  “You forget that Siths never play fair, Xanthis.  I brought along a couple friends, and I have a feeling that they’ll really shock you.”

     There was a long, awkward silence where nobody said anything.  Seven knew it wasn’t his line, and it wasn’t Owen’s.  That last line was the cue for the stormtroopers to come bursting through the door into the hangar and surround Xanthis. 

     But they never came.

     “Cut!” Trotter yelled.  “Stormtroopers, where the hell are you?  You missed your cue!”

     One of the stormtroopers poked his head from behind the set.  “Sorry, sir,” he said.  “It’s really hard to hear in these things.”

     “Oh, stop complaining,” Trotter said.  “You can hear just fine.”

     “What?”

     “I said to stop complaining, you can hear just fine!” Trotter yelled.

     If the face of a stormtrooper’s helmet could look confused, this one did.  “What?”

     “I said you’re a moron,” Trotter shot back, though the stormtrooper couldn’t hear him.  “Jason, go back there and tell them when to go.”

     “On it, boss,” Jason said, while running behind the set.

     Trotter shook his head.  “Okay, we already got most of the scene.  Melissa, let’s do a close up of Owen just saying the cue line for the troopers.  Shoot him from an angle so the door where the stormtroopers are coming from is in the background.  Once they come through the door, put them in focus and leave Owen blurry.”

     “Wait a second,” Owen interrupted.  “I don’t want to be blurry.”

     “Excuse me?” Trotter said.

     “I don’t want to be blurry,” Owen repeated.  “If you’re going to have me on screen, I don’t want to be blurry.  I think it’s in my contract that I always have to be in focus.”

     “No, it isn’t,” Trotter said back, not trying to hide his level of annoyance.

     “It should be,” Owen replied.

     “But it’s not.  How about you just do the scene as I said so we can all go home?” Trotter asked.

     “How about you remember that I’m the Executive Producer of this show,” Owen said.  “And you work for me.  If you’re going to have me in the shot, then I don’t want to be blurred out.”

     There was a tense silence as the two stared at each other.  Seven didn’t know exactly what was going on between the two, but it seemed to be a power struggle of some sort.  The silence was finally broken by Trotter.

     “Fine,” he said.  “You’re right.  If you are in the shot, then we have to do it your way.”

     “I’m glad you agree,” Owen said, satisfied that he had struck a victory.

     Suddenly, Trotter reached over and grabbed a megaphone, and stuck it almost in Owen’s face.  “Reno off the set!” he yelled into the megaphone.

     “What?!”

     “You heard me,” Trotter said, before realizing he was still talking into the megaphone.  Once he realized that, he tossed it aside and repeated himself.  “You heard me.  Off the set.  Now.”

     “You can’t kick me off the set.  You need me.”

     “You’d think that, wouldn’t you?” Trotter said.  “But we don’t need you right now.  We have you saying the cue line already.  We just need to shoot your stand in blurry and loop in you saying the cue line.  There…problem solved.  And we did it without you.  Now, you can either get off my set, or you can shoot the scene as I said.  Which way do you want it?”

     There was another long silence as Owen and Trotter stared at each other.  Trotter had won that round, and they both knew it.  He had simply outmaneuvered Owen, and outplayed him at his own game.  The only question now was whether or not Owen would admit defeat and shoot the scene as Trotter had said.

     “Fine,” Owen said.  “We’ll do it your way.”

     “Thank you,” Trotter said, retaking his seat.

     Seven walked off the set and stood behind Trotter, since technically his part in this scene was done.  The way they were shooting it, the camera would be focused on Reno and the door behind him, where the stormtroopers would be entering.  Seven wasn’t needed on the set for the shot.

     “Action,” Trotter said when Melissa had the camera set up and ready.

     “You forgot that Siths never play fair, Xanthis.  I brought along a couple friends, and I have a feeling that they’ll really shock you.”

     Suddenly there was a loud thump followed by a crashing sound and the “Hangar Bay“ set shook slightly.

     “Cut!” Trotter yelled.  “What happened?!”

     Jason popped his head from behind the set a few seconds later.  “The squib didn’t explode and blow the door off, sir,” he said.  Seven smirked as he pictured the stormtroopers running into the door and falling over.  “Don’t worry about the stormtroopers, they’re okay.  I fixed the squib.  Ready to go.”

     “Will the door explode this time?”

     “Like a Death Star, sir,” Jason responded.

     “Beautiful,” he said.  “All right…action.”

     “You forgot that Siths never play fair, Xanthis.  I brought along a couple friends, and I have a feeling that they’ll really shock you.”

     Behind Owen, the squibs on the door exploded and the door blew off its hinges, just as it was planned.  But instead of the stormtroopers running into the Hangar Bay and surrounding Xanthis like was planned, the first stormtrooper through the door tripped on his way out and fell through the doorway.  His stormtrooper helmet popped off and rolled a few feet away.  The guy scrambled to pick it up and put it back on, but by then the shot had been long since ruined.

     “Cut…” Trotter said softly, his voice soft and tired.  “I quit.  That’s a wrap for today.  We’ll try this tomorrow.” 

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

     Seven plopped down in the lounge in the Seal Breaker, almost passing out the second he fell into the chair.  He had been through a lot in his life.  He had survived a time of his life spent in the Corporate Sector.  He had survived life as a Sith.  He had been engaged in countless dogfights and shootouts and lightsaber duels, each of which were life-threatening situations and extremely difficult to survive.  And, in fact, he had enjoyed most of them.  There was always some little thrill to be had from those situations and at the end, despite how tired you were, it always seemed worth it. 

     But lightsaber duels…light fights…dog fights…none of it could compare to the hell that was acting.    

     After two days on the set, Seven was ready to call it quits and go home.  He just wasn’t cut out for a life like this.  Career as a Sith Lord and constant fights to the death?  Piece of cake.  Constantly re-shooting a scene for hours that they got perfect the first time?  If Seven didn’t go insane on this mission, then it would be a miracle.

     He hadn’t seen Fox all day, except for the brief morning meeting where everyone was told what set to report to.  After that, Fox had gone off to another set to do his work with some of the other cast.  They didn’t run into each other again until the second shooting day was over.  Unlike Seven, Fox had found acting to be a rather fun break from his normal routine of getting ignored on the SSD.  Perhaps, Seven mused, because for once the attention was on him.  Despite the fun he had on set, though, Fox’s day had been equally exhausting.  He went straight from the set to the Seal Breaker and into his quarters for sleep.

     What made Seven really angry wasn’t all the fault of his new acting job, though, or even the fact that Fox had enjoyed it.  A lot of it had to do with the fact that when he and Fox got back to the Seal Breaker, they found Jen once again just sitting in the lounge nursing a bottle of Whyren’s.  It didn’t look like she had done any work all day, let alone on this entire mission.  Contrast that with the hell that Seven had to go through all day, and he was pretty pissed off.

     “And just what have you been doing all day?” he asked.

     “Working,” she said simply, taking a sip of her drink.

     “Working?” he asked.  What the hell did that mean?  She certainly didn’t look like she had spent her day working.  He doubted she had even left the Seal Breaker in three days.  “Would you mind being a little more specific than that?   

     “Am I in charge here?” she asked.

     “Yes,” he said.

     “Then no, I don’t want to be more specific than that.” She took another sip.  “How was your second day?”

     Seven groaned.  “Ugh…I wish I was back on the SSD getting slapped around by Palin.  At least that was somewhat fun.  I hate acting.  It’s so…repetitive.  The same thing over and over again.”

     “Fox didn’t seem to mind it so much,” she pointed out.

     “Yeah, well this is probably the first time anyone’s ever paid attention to Fox, outside of a laboratory.”

     Jen smirked.  “True, but let’s get to business now.  Status report.  What did you learn today on the set?”

     Seven took a deep breath.  “I spent a good deal of my day re-shooting the same scenes over and over again.  I didn’t get much chance to talk to anyone, but for those I did talk to I didn’t sense any kind of deception or duplicity.  They’re all just actors doing a job.  The same goes to Trotter.  He’s a little hyper-active and talks too much, but he’s just doing his job.”

     “So, in other words, you really don’t have much of anything.”

     “It’s not that I don’t have anything,” he said.  “It’s just that I don’t have anything yet.  Look, I’m still just trying to establish myself on the set and try my best not to stand out too much.  I needed to get a feel of the other actors on the set and see who I might be able to get information out of later.”

     “And did you?”

     “I think so,” he responded.  “Michael Hicks…Seven, as it happens…seems like my best prospect.  It’s his first acting job and he’s just happy to be doing anything there, let alone having a real speaking role.  He’ll talk to anyone who talks to him.  I’m not sure how much of anything he knows, but what he does know I’m sure I can get.”

     “What about the director?”

     “Trotter?  I’d be lucky to get a word from him in my direction, unless it’s him telling me that I’m doing things all wrong.  The only person from the cast that he really gives the time of day to is Owen.”

     “Who?”

     “Owen…their Reno.  He’s the lead in the show.”

     “Can you get anything from—”

     “No,” Seven said, not even letting her finish the question.  “He’s even more stuck up than the real Reno.  I’d be lucky if he talked to me during the scenes we share.  I’ve already given up on the idea of trying to squeeze information out of him.”

     “You’re going to have to try, though,” Jen said.  “Question Trotter and Owen.”

     “Why?”

     “Because someone leaked information about us to the studio,” she pointed out.  “It probably wasn’t Owen or Trotter, but at the least they might be able to point us to some names that are even higher up than they are.  Studio executives, or someone.  Maybe even the show’s creator.  You didn’t by any chance hear who created the show, did you?”

     Seven shook his head.  “No, but I do know who the main writers are, and they‘re always on set.  They might’ve created it.”

     “Doubtful,” Jen said.  “Probably just some hacks they brought in to pump out a bunch of clichéd single-shot episodes about spatial anomalies and quantum fluxes.  You can try getting something from them, but I doubt they know anything more about the series than what they write.  Most likely the idea came from an external source; somebody who is in charge, but not a presence on the set.”

     “The Producer?”

     “Maybe,” she said softly.  “Producers tend to be the ones who approve scripts and handle the hiring of the crew and principle cast members, as well as negotiate contracts.  The Producer could’ve created the show, though.  Not a bad idea to try to grill him for info.  Who is it?”

     Seven shrugged.  “I don’t know.  I can find out, though.”

     “Do it,” she said.  “What about the Executive Producer?”

     “That would be Owen again,” Seven said.  “And I’m not too optimistic about that.”

     “Wow…” Jen said.  “He’s the lead actor and Executive Producer.  He really is as egotistical as our Reno.  Try, though, Seven.  We need information, and Trotter, Owen and whoever the creator is are the top people on the show.  Try to squeeze the writers for some info, too.  I doubt they‘ll know much—they never do—but they might have something.”

     “Roger that, Jen,” Seven said.  “For now, though, I think it’s time I passed out.  Early day tomorrow, and lots of work to do.”

     Jen nodded and stood up.  “Yeah, me too.”

     “And while Fox and I are busting our asses on set, what exactly will you be doing tomorrow?” he asked.

      Jen shot him a look.  “Am I still in charge?”

     “Yes.”

     “Then I still don’t have to answer that,” she shot back.

     Seven shook his head and got up, heading for his quarters.  He was almost there when Jen called out to him.

     “Seven,” she said.

     He turned around and looked over at her.  “What?”

     “I’m going to exercise some of those discretionary powers Reno gave me,” she said.  “We’ve already spent half our time here and we have nothing to show for it yet.  We’ve used up three of our six days.  We can’t afford to waste any more time here if we’re not at least making a little progress.  If you don’t get some solid information to work off of by the end of tomorrow, then we’re going to go straight to Plan B.”

     Seven nodded slowly and retreated to his bunk.  He certainly didn’t like that decision, but he didn’t see what he could really do about it.  Jen outranked him and Reno had expressly put her in charge of this mission.  He had to follow her orders.  And since she demanded progress by the end of tomorrow, he was going to have to start making a lot of inquisitions, even at the cost of making himself look a bit suspicious.

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

     “Bravo One, this is Alpha Lead. Report.  Over.”

     “Lead, this is Bravo One.  I just intercepted another transmission from Drunk One.  Sending it your way.  Over.”

     “Roger that, Bravo One.  Over.”

     Silence.

     “This might push up our schedule, Bravo One.  Good work.  Over.”

     “New orders, Lead?  Over.”

     “For the moment, no.  Keep at what you’ve been doing and don’t let Drunk One out of your sight.  I’ll watch Two and Three personally.  Over.”

     “Roger that, Lead.  Over.”

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

     A late night walk sounded good to Palin.  Not like she had anything else to do.  Her options consisted pretty much of taking a walk, watching War of Words again, or going to sleep.  With those options, a walk sounded rather good.

     So now she was strolling around the SSD, passing red-armored stormtroopers and random crewmembers.  They all saluted her as she passed.  Being one of the top Sith on the SSD, she didn’t have to bother returning any kind of salute.  She didn’t even have to acknowledge their presence.  She just walked by them.

     It took her four days, but she had finally come to the conclusion that she did miss Seven.  And it wasn’t just the fact that she missed having a slave around to do her bidding…she missed just having him around, period.  It was nice having someone to talk to.  It was nice having someone who will just be there for you, regardless of what you need.  It was just nice having someone.  She had never felt that way about anyone, and the realization that she felt that way about Seven unnerved her.  It was—

      Palin stopped as she rounded a corner.  About ten meters away, on the other side of the hall, stood two people.  One of them she recognized instantly as Gimmer, their chief mechanic.  His presence on this part of the ship wasn’t unusual, as she was close to the docking bay.  It was the other guy that she was suspicious about.  She didn’t recognize him, which truthfully wasn’t that suspicious.  The SSD was big, and she couldn’t know the faces of everyone aboard.

     No, it wasn’t that she didn’t know him.  It was more how he carried himself.  Although he and Gimmer seemed to be talking closely, it didn’t come across as two friends conversing.  It looked more like…an interview.  From ten meters away, it looked a lot more like the guy was questioning Gimmer than talking about something of mutual interest.  What would he be questioning Gimmer about, though?

     Then the lieutenant thanked Gimmer and walked off in the opposite direction of Palin.  Gimmer, seeing Palin, smiled and walked over.

     “How’s Little Gimmer there doing?” he asked, pointing to her belly.  For some reason, he always called the baby “Little Gimmer.”  She would be annoyed if she didn’t think it was rather funny.

     “For the last time, I’m not naming him after you,” she said light-heartedly.

     “You say that now, but just watch...”

     Palin shook her head.  “Hey, who was that you were talking to?”

     “I think he said his name was Mosley.”

     “What was he talking to you about?”

     “Just asking some questions about the squadron,” Gimmer replied.  “General stuff.  Said he’s new here.  Just trying to get a feel for the place.  Understandable.  I was rather nervous my first few months.  Why?”

     Palin thought about it for a moment.  Could this Mosley be their leak?  If he was new, then he could use that as a guise to ask questions and get information from people.  Then he could’ve relayed that information to whoever it was that created the Sith Squadron show.  Could be.  She would have to look into it.

     “No reason,” she told Gimmer anyway.  “I think I’m going back to my quarters now.  Had enough walking.”

     “Need an escort?” Gimmer offered, his tone light and jovial.  “These hallways can be awful dangerous at night.”

     Palin managed a faint smile and showed him the lightsaber concealed in her cloak.  “I think I can manage.” 

     When she got back to her quarters, which she somehow accomplished without the aide of the ever dangerous Gimmer, the first thing she did was search the computer for records of someone named Mosley.  The computer began its search, but informed her it would take a few minutes to check the entire database.  That was fine.  She could use a few minutes sleep.

     Palin walked back to her couch and sat down.  Yeah, just a few minutes sleep.  Then she could read Mosley’s file, and maybe then go to sleep for the night.  Mmm, sleep…

     She was asleep long before the computer finished its search.

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