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.
* * * * * * * * *
* * *