Day Five

     Sneaking their lightsabers onto the set wasn’t nearly as difficult as Seven had originally feared it would be.  While security on the set was still tight, they were by no means bright.  The guards weren’t exactly the smartest group he’d ever seen, and Force-suggesting that they didn’t need to be searched before they came onto the set was rather easy.  Almost too easy, in fact.  It made Seven worry, not to mention suspicious.

     Of course, that was only one of many things on this trip that had made Seven suspicious, the least of which wasn’t Jen’s strange behavior.  He had no idea what had gotten into her lately.  He was used to her making fun of him, and ignoring him, and pushing him around…but in the past that had always seemed to be in play, or jest, or fun.  The way she had been acting lately, though?  She was aggressive, confrontational, hostile and in some ways almost seemed to be acting against Seven.  Every time he came up with good information or a solid lead, she would cut down the timetable he created for the mission and force him into action before he was ready.  As well, there was also the issue of her apparent lack of doing anything on the mission, which not only was suspicious but really annoying.  It didn’t seem right for her to stay aboard the Seal Breaker all day getting drunk while he and Fox worked their asses off on the mission.  But…she was in charge, and he would have to follow her orders.

     To that end, today he needed to come up with a plan.  Jen was giving him one day to figure out a way to bring the house down on Sith Squadron, without actually bringing the house down.  At least not yet.  That was the backup plan, and it was one that he didn‘t want to have to fall back on.  He wasn’t so sure about Jen, though.  She seemed really eager to just level the place and had been since the very beginning.  Just another way that she seemed to be working against him.

     He had to put that aside for the moment, though.  Even if Jen didn’t seem to be doing her job, he planned on doing his.  He was charged with making sure this show stopped production, and that was what he planned to do.  How he was going to achieve that, however, was another matter entirely.  How could he possibly stop the production of a holoshow in two days, without taking the easy path and just blowing up the entire set and bankrupting the show into cancellation?

     The set was very quiet that morning, with everyone seeming to have “Rick” on their minds.  Nobody seemed to be very happy he was going to be on set, though some didn’t seem to care and were only thinking about themselves.  By “some” Seven meant Owen, and only Owen.  While everyone else was off in circles talking about the impending arrival of Rick, Owen was already in full “Reno” garb, standing in front of a mirror and delivering the same line over and over again, with different emphases on the syllables. 

     “Let’s do it do it!  No.  Let’s…do it, to it.  Let’s dooo it…tooo it.  Hey, let’s do it to it.  Let’s do it, to it…no, definitely no…Yo, let’s do it to it.  Let’s do it to it, eh?  God no.  Let’s do it to it, dude.  Umm…let’s do it to it, brutha.  Let’s do it to—”

     Seven did his best to drown out Owen’s voice.  He still hadn’t decided which Reno was worse, Owen or the real one.  They both certainly had their positives and negatives.  Mostly negatives.  Lots of negatives.

     A shinny glint caught his eye and he noticed Fox walking his way, a hint of urgency in his scurry.

     “What is it?” Seven asked, before Fox even arrived.

     “I just overheard a security guard on his comm,” Fox replied.  “Rick is here.”

     “Great,” Seven muttered.  He had hoped “Rick” would show up later on in the day so he could have a better plan, but had figured he would make an early appearance.  So this was it.  This was when he would find out if Sith Rick doubled as Producer Rick.  This was when things would either get shot to hell or…or what?  He didn’t know.  How Rick would respond to the Siths, if it was him at all, was a complete X-factor.  He had no way of knowing.

     “And what do we do if it is Sith Rick?” Fox asked, as if reading his mind.

     Seven shook his head.  “I don’t know,” he replied honestly.

     “Attention, everyone, attention!” a voice suddenly yelled out.  It was Trotter, waving his arms and gathering for everyone to circle up around him.  After that was done, he continued.  “Rick just arrived on the set and he should be here in a minute.  I want everyone to be on their best behavior…” He cast a quick glance at Owen.  “…as you all know, the studio hasn’t been very happy with the show so far, despite the fact that Sith Squadron rocks, and is only continuing to back it because the creator/executive producer happens to be paying them an exorbitant amount of money.  However, now that they have his money and made a half-assed attempt to make his show—not that any of your work is half-assed, I love you all—they won’t hesitate to shut us down if problems arise.  Do not give Rick ammunition to shoot us with.  He’s hostile enough towards us without any of you helping him out.  Be polite, be courteous, nod your head, agree with everything he says, and don’t contradict him.  If anyone causes the slightest bit of a problem, I swear to guy who prints my paycheck, I’ll rip your head off.  Are we all understood?”

     The entire group, Owen included, nodded. 

     “Good,” he replied.  “On another note, I received word that our military technical advisor is running a bit late, but he’ll be here sometime before lunch.”

     Then they waited silently.  Any second “Rick”, whether Sith or Producer, would come walking through that door.  What would Seven do if it was the Rick he knew?  Or the Rick he used to know.  Try to hide?  No, Rick would be able to feel his and Fox’s presences.  What if Rick exposed their true identities?  Well, that wouldn’t be smart of him, because they could expose his right back.  Seven shook his head.  There were just too many variables in this equation.  It really didn’t make much sense thinking about it.  He was just going to have to wait and see what was going to happen.

     Suddenly, the door burst open on the set and “Rick” made his grand entrance.  Seven was relieved to see immediately that it was not Sith Rick.  In fact, this man bore no resemblance to him whatsoever.  This Rick was short, but not thin like Rick.  He had a little thickness to him, though not enough to be considered even chubby.  His black hair was receding, but what was left was kind of sticking up, as if static electricity were pulling his hair up.  That, combined with the receding hairline, made his forehead look rather large.  Also large on his facial features were his eyebrows, which were abnormally thick and bushy. 

     Rick didn’t waste any time in yelling.

     “Hey, who the kriff is running this joint?” he yelled out.  “Do you know how kriffing hard it was to find some decent kriffing parking?  Kriffing A…what are you all staring at?  Aren’t you all actors?  Go act, or something.  That’s what we’re paying you to do.  Not that most of you are worth it.  Good for nothing kriffing actors.  Why are you all still standing around?  Make yourselves useful.  Someone go grab me a cup of caf.  And a bagel.  And a donut.  One with some frosting and sprinkles.  Lots of kriffing sprinkles.  I love sprinkles.  Well?  Someone get the kriff to it.”

     There was a very awkward silence, eventually broken by Trotter.

     “Ladies and gentlemen,” he said, waving his hand toward the crude individual who had just burst onto the set and insulted everyone.  “Rick McCallous.”   

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

     That Rick ended up not being the Rick he knew both relieved and disappointed Seven.  He wanted to think that it was a bullet they had dodged, but considering that he didn‘t know how Rick would‘ve reacted to them, he couldn‘t say that.  Rick might’ve been willing to help them.  Or, he might’ve turned on them.  Oh well.  It was a moot point anyway now.  Rick McCallous was most definitely not the Rick he knew.  In fact, he wasn’t like anyone Seven had ever known.  After only several minutes with McCallous, he was starting to wish it had been the Rick he knew.  Or Xanthis.  Or Zarin.  Or anyone else, quite frankly.

       The first scene of the day required them to be on the same sandy “alien planet” they had been on before.  “Reno” and “Seven” were on the planet searching the desert hills (which would be added later in Post) for a girl name Roxann, who was the daughter of some alien Chieftain on the planet, or something.  She had been kidnapped by “Xanthis,” who was ransoming her off.  They, however, didn’t know yet that she had been kidnapped by him.  So, on the wishes of the Chieftain, they searched the desert and called out for her.  To make the set seem more like a real desert, they added some cacti and, much to McCallous’s chagrin, real live reptiles.

     “Just what the kriff do you think you’re doing?” he yelled at Trotter as they brought the cages onto the set, which were marked live reptiles.  “You can’t bring live reptiles onto the set.  Do you know how much it costs to rent live exotic reptiles?”

     “As a matter of fact I do,” Trotter responded. 

     “I never authorized the use of live reptiles on the set,” McCallous barked.  “I was never informed, nor did a request sheet ever cross my desk.  You do not make decisions of this nature on the show without consulting me first.”

     “I didn’t know that bringing some reptiles in to make the alien planet seem more real was that much of an issue,” Trotter responded.

     “There’s no need for them, that’s the problem,” McCallous said.  “The alien planet would’ve been just as alien without some reptiles.  At the most, you could’ve just added them later with CGI.  There was no need to spend all that money to get practical reptiles.”

     “I’m sorry, Mr. McCallous,” Trotter said, though Seven didn’t think he really meant it.  “It won’t happen again.”

     “No, it won’t,” McCallous said sharply.

     “But since the damage is already done, can we just use them anyway?” Trotter asked.  “Whether I use them now or not, we’ve already paid for them...”

     “Fine, fine…just be careful,” McCallous said.  “The last thing we need is for an actor to sue us over a kriffing snake bite.  Just tell them to be careful.”

     “I will,” Trotter said, who was still trying his best not to let too much anger creep into his voice.  He walked over towards Owen and Michael, who were rehearsing the scene.  “Okay, Reno and Seven on set.  Let’s do the scene just as you guys rehearsed it.  We’ll try to get this in one shot.  We’re going to have a couple non-poisonous snakes moving around for atmosphere’s sake, but Mr. McCallous here would still like you both to be very careful.  He’s very concerned about your welfare and well-being.”

     Owen and Michael took their places, careful not to step on one of the snakes slithering around in the sand. 

     “Now remember,” Trotter said as he took his seat.  “Finding this princess is very important to both of you.  Make us feel like you want to find her.  Finding Roxann means big money for Reno and Sith Squadron, so you are very motivated.  Finding Roxann means money.  Money means Whyren’s.  You guys love Whyren’s—”

     “Ahem.”

     The clearing of a throat interrupted Trotter.

     Everyone turned and looked over at McCallous.

     “Yes?” Trotter asked.

     “Well, and this is something that comes straight from the studio…we’re concerned with Sith Squadron’s preoccupation, dare I said obsession, with alcohol.  Sith Squadron isn’t being put on during the late hours.  We have a midday time slot for it, and a lot of kids will be exposed to the product.  We were going to send you a memo about this tomorrow, but now is as good a time as any.  We want you to remove any and all references to Whyren’s Reserve, or any alcohol for that matter.  Kids shouldn’t be watching shows where their heros are boozehounds.  We’d like you to change that from Whyren’s Reserve to milk.”

     There was a very long, very awkward, very silent, pause.  No one on the set seemed to have any idea how to respond to this.  Seven thought the idea was utterly ludicrous.  If anyone had suggested that to the real Sith Squadron, they probably wouldn’t have lived long enough to regret suggesting it. 

     Trotter seemed the most infuriated by it, though because of his position it was obvious he couldn’t lash out at McCallous like he wanted to.  Taking away Whyren’s from Sith Squadron was like eliminating a key portion of the entire story.  You could take Reno out of the story, or Thunder, or Jen, or Nuprin…but Whyren’s?  No, it needed to be there.  It was more essential than anything.

     “Milk…” Trotter finally muttered, though clenched teeth.  “Milk…”

     “We feel that’s a much more positive, family-friendly image,” McCallous continued.  “We want more of a ‘Milk: It does a body good’ vibe, not a ‘Booze: It’s what’s for dinner’ kind of thing.”

     “Milk…” Trotter said again.  It looked to Seven like Trotter was barely suppressing some serious rage.  It also looked to Seven like this most definitely wasn’t the first time Rick had changed something critical to the show, as Trotter wouldn’t have responded like this unless he had been pushed to a boiling point.  It was looking more than ever like someone really high up in the structure was sabotaging the show.  “Fine…milk, it is.  Reno, Seven…you need to find Roxann.  You need the money.  You need it so you can buy milk.  You guys love milk.  You guys sit around the bar all day doing nothing but drinking milk.”

     “Ahem.”

     Trotter looked like he wanted to cry.

     “Yes?”

     “The word ‘bar’ really brings up a negative connotation,” McCallous said.  “It still makes me think of alcohol and drunks.  Instead of them going to a bar on the SSD, how about they all gather around…like…a soda fountain, or something.  Or an ice cream parlor.  Yeah, that would work.”

     Trotter’s response was very slow, as if he was trying to understand the concept himself, and still said through clenched teeth,  “you want the big, bad Sith Lords…to sit around their ship…and drink milk…at their ice cream parlor?”

     “Well, it’s much better than getting plastered at a bar, don’t you agree?”

     “Getting hammered actually sounds pretty damn good right now,” Trotter muttered under his breath.

     “What was that?” McCallous asked.

     “I said getting on with the scene sounds pretty good right now,” Trotter responded.  He turned back to the set and Owen and Michael.  “So you guys need to find Roxann, so you can get money, so you can sit your asses around the SSD and drink milk at your ice cream parlor.  That is your motivation.  You want milk.” 

     Seven thought that Owen was going to complain, as it looked like he was trying to say something, but one look from Trotter stopped him in his tracks.  Trotter turned to Melissa, the camera operator.  “Ready?” 

     “Ready.”

     “Quiet on set,” he yelled out, though most people were still too stunned about the “milk” announcement to actually be talking.  “And…action.”

     Seven watched from behind Trotter‘s chair as “Reno” and “Seven” began to walk up one of the sandy dunes, pretending to search for the lost Princess Roxann.  McCallous sat immediately to Trotter’s right, leaning towards Trotter so he could give him advice and direction easier.  Seven stopped watching them, though, and focused on the scene.

     The fake Seven, Michael Hicks, was climbing up a dune, cupping his hands in front of his mouth, as if that somehow made his yells louder.  “Roxy?!  Roxy?!” he yelled.

     “Any sign of Roxann?” Owen asked.

     “No,” Michael responded.  “I can’t find her.  And this planet is too big to search on foot.  We could use my dune buggy, though.  That would make the search faster.  It has water in the tires, ya know.”

     “We’re not using your dune buggy, Seven,” Owen responded.

     “Sniff…you resent my dune buggy,” Michael responded.

     “I don’t resent your stupid dune buggy,” Owen said back.  “But we have a Super Star Destroyer in orbit, which is even quicker than a dune buggy.”

     “Oh…yeah.  But my dune buggy…”

     Seven drowned them out.  He couldn’t imagine how dialogue this bad could actually be green lighted and make into a movie or show.  Did writers even bother to learn how to structure a story, or write characters, or dialogue?  Well, most did.  They just were good enough to avoid having to write shows like this. 

     “Trotter,” Seven heard McCallous whisper, as the scene in front of them continued.  He turned to listen to what Rick had to say.  “Those snakes are getting awfully close to the actors, tell them to be careful.”

     “They’re fine,” Trotter said back.

     “Look, that one’s only a meter away from Owen.  It could bite him.”

     “It’s not a poisonous snake, and it doesn’t bite.”

     “But it could.  Just tell them to be careful.”

     “Fine…”

     Seven turned his attention back to Owen and Michael, who were still arguing about the merits of “Seven’s” dune buggy.

     “…plus my dune buggy can go on sand, because it has water in it’s tires.”

     “I know it has water in the tires, Seven, but the SSD—”

     “Watch out for snakes!” Trotter yelled out.  Like true professionals, neither Owen nor Michael responded in any way to Trotter’s sudden warning of the non-poisonous snakes on the set.  They simply continued the scene as if nothing had happened.  It wasn’t a big deal, though.  He found that directors often talked during shoots.  He figured they would just edit it out in post.  Hopefully they wouldn’t forget to edit it and wouldn‘t accidentally leave it in.  Boy would it be embarrassing.  

     Eventually, the scene ended, and thankfully they nailed it in one shot.  Trotter called for a twenty-minute recess to give everyone a quick break.  Michael then went off to another set to do some Second Unit shooting, while Owen retreated to his trailer.  Trotter was walking off set practically pulling his hair out in frustration, while McCallous followed closely, no doubt advising him on how he could pull it out better.  Seven stayed on set, though, as it was as good a place as any to think.

     Seven was now more convinced than ever that Sith Squadron was being sabotaged.  There was no way around it.  It was evidently clear that someone high up wanted Sith Squadron gone.  He could think of no other explanation for all the insane changes to the show.  The replacement of Whyren’s Reserve for milk.  The elimination of the bar in favor of an ice cream parlor.  Changing Thunder’s character from an honor-bound warrior to a sex-freak who liked to experiment with aliens.

     Well…okay, maybe that last one wasn’t so bad.

     But even if he was sure something was going on, he had no idea what.  Sith Squadron was being sabotaged…but why?  To what end?  Trotter had mentioned that the studio wasn’t happy with Sith Squadron and was looking for excuses to shut them down.  McCallous’ actions could be a way to drive Trotter over the edge until he exploded, which would give the studio the excuse they needed…or it could just be a way to get everyone to quit the show.

     Why wasn’t the studio happy, though?  From everything he had heard about the pilot episode that aired, it had delivered good ratings.  There was enough interest in the show that the marketing geniuses had already begun creating Sith Squadron toys.  If the show seemed to be such an early success, why was the studio trying to sabotage it?  Where was the logic in ruining your own show when it showed early signs of being a moneymaker?

     Seven sighed.  The answer to this mystery had something to do with Sacul Productions and the people there.  He wasn’t going to figure this out by sitting on a nearly empty set and making guesses.  He wasn’t even going to figure this out by talking to any of the other actors.  Any information they did have they had no doubt already shared.  Trotter might know more, or Owen, but that was it.  And they were very tight lipped.  Getting information out of them was really more a stroke of luck than anything.  No, he was going to have to get information directly out the source.  He was going to have to question Rick McCallous himself eventually. 

     He had never dreaded anything more in his entire life.

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

     Before lunch he was scheduled to shoot a fight scene with Owen.  It was actually the same fight scene that followed a scene they had filmed earlier, at the end of Seven’s second day on the set.  That scene had been riddled with so many problems that Trotter had ended up quitting and calling it a day.  They had finished that particular scene the following morning, but now was when they had scheduled the fight scene.  The crew went through great pains to make sure everything on the set was exactly like it was when they shot stuff for earlier in the scene, from the actor’s make up to the lighting.

     Seven was on the set, inside the fake docking bay of the “SSD,” pacing back and forth.  Truth be told, he was a bit nervous.  This would be his first duel.  Oh, he had that scene with “Seven” where they had batted their lightsabers together, but no fight had been shot.  His first fight scene was going to be with Owen, one of the Executive Producers of the show, and the main star.  He really didn’t want to mess up.

     “All right, let’s do this!” he heard Trotter yell out as he burst onto the set.  Following close on his heels, as always, was Rick McCallous.  Owen was already on set, though he wasn’t practicing his duel with Seven like he should’ve been.  Instead, he was off in the corner, swinging around his fake lightsaber with moves that he believed were realistic, but would’ve gotten him killed in two seconds if he were dueling against Thunder.  At Trotter’s beckon, though, he walked over onto the set.  Seven noticed that—as Trotter had ordered—Owen had been on his best behavior today.  It seemed to be the only positive thing about McCallous being around.  Then again, if his choice was having an annoying Owen and no McCallous, or a well-behaved Owen and McCallous around, he would choose the former every time.

     “So what’s this next scene?” McCallous asked. 

     “The duel between Reno and Xanthis,” Trotter responded.  “Scene fifty-three.  Now—”

     “Who wins?”

     “Excuse me?”

     “The duel,” McCallous responded.  “Who wins the kriffing duel?”

     “Didn’t you read the script?”

     “Of course I read it,” he said back.  “It was great, I kriffing loved it, really…so who wins?”

     Trotter shook his head slightly.  “Reno.”

     McCallous frowned slightly.  “I don’t know about that…does Reno really need to win the duel?”

     “He’s the good guy,” Trotter responded.  “Xanthis is the bad guy.  In the end, the good guy wins.  That’s how it works.”

     “Well, yes, in holoshows…”

     “This is a holoshow,” Trotter shot back.

     “I just don’t think it’s necessary for Reno to win this duel.  In fact, yeah, let’s change it.  Reno is going to lose this fight.”

     This time it was Owen who interrupted, even before Trotter could voice his complaint.  “Excuse me?!” he burst out, finally breaking his streak of good behavior.  “…but I think you’re a bit confused on the structure of things here.  You are Rick.  Corporate lackey asshole.  Producer.  I am Owen.  Star.  Executive Producer.  See the difference?”

     If Rick was intimidated or scared in any way by Owen’s rant, he wasn’t showing it.  He just stood there silently and smiled.

     “Owen…” Trotter said quietly, warningly.

     “No, don’t give me that crap, Trotter,” Owen barked, before turning to face Rick again.  “I am not going to lose this duel.”

     “I’m afraid you are,” Rick responded coolly. 

     Owen shook his head adamantly.  “Check the contract, buddy,” Owen sharply said.  “It says clearly that in every episode I get my shirt ripped off, I get the girl, and I win the duel.  That’s the way it is in my contract, and that’s the way it is going to be.”

     McCallous studied Owen for a moment, then let out a brief smile.  “Tell you what.  Are you a betting man?”

     “Why?”

     McCallous reached into his pocket and fished out a coin.  “Let’s flip for it.  Heads Reno wins, tails Xanthis wins.”

     “What kind of stupid way of settling an issue is that?” Owen asked.  “What are you, in second grade?”

     “Well, if you’re afraid…”

     “Hey!” Owen yelled back, falling right into the second grade level trap that McCallous had laid for Owen.  “I’m not afraid.  Flip the damn coin.”
     McCallous flipped the coin high in the air and caught it on its way back down.  Everyone crowded around Rick as he opened up his palm slowly, revealing the coin in his hand. 

     Tails.

     “Son of a…” Owen muttered, as he turned away angrily.

     “Well,” McCallous said triumphantly.  “Looks like we have another rewrite to do.  I’ll inform Mike and Tommy.  In the meantime, let’s at least start shooting the beginning of the fight.  At your convenience.  Well…work.”

     Everyone turned to look at Trotter, who nodded in consent.  With Trotter’s approval they took their places on the set.  Seven and Owen walked onto the set, their fake lightsabers in hand.  These weren’t the fake lightsabers with the plastic blades, though.  These were just fake handles.  They still needed to shoot a scene before they had activated their lightsabers, then they would swap fake lightsabers for the ones with the plastic blades.

     “Okay, are you guys ready?” Trotter asked.  Owen and Seven exchanged a look and nodded.   “Beautiful.  Let’s get this don—”

     Beep.

     Trotter reached down and grabbed his comlink.  “One sec,” he told the actors, then activated the comlink.  “Go.”

     “This is security,” Seven heard over the comlink.  “A Colonel Ian Liston just checked in.  I sent him on over to Set One.  Just thought you’d like a heads up.”

     “Thanks, security.  Out.”  Trotter pocketed the comlink and turned back to the actors, and seemed to switch into his “explain their motivation mode.”  “Okay, the duel…now Reno, remember, you are defending your ship here.  Xanthis there is trying to take it.  He’s trying to kill you.  You need to show your anger.  Show it in your voice, your face, your movements, your fighting.  Be strong, be aggressive.  And Xanthis…remember, you hate this man.  He’s your enemy.  You wanna kill him.  Make me feel it, now.  Both of you.  Make me feel the anger now, make me feel the hatred.”

     Seven and Owen nodded, then turned to face each other.  Seven was glad that he didn’t have any lines to try and remember for this scene, though he did have to remember all the moves for the duel, which in some ways made it even worse.  Trying to remember all those moves made him nervous.  Well, at least until he remembered that he knew how to duel for real.

     “Aaaand…aaaaaaction!” 

     Seven and Owen, or Xanthis and Reno, if you will, circled each other slowly, each holding a deactivated “lightsaber.”  Seven tried his best to stare at Owen with lots of anger and hatred, but he didn’t think he was really doing that good a job.  He didn’t particularly like Owen, but he couldn’t muster up any feelings of anger or hatred.  It just wasn’t in him.

     Seven casually let his eyeballs wander as he circled Owen, before finally letting them rest on one man: Rick McCallous.  What an ass.  He used to think that Reno was bad…then he thought that Owen was even worse…but he didn’t think it was possible to get more annoying than Rick McCallous.  He was like a living incarnation of evil.  If evil had a human form it was in the form of that man.  It was as if all the spirits of every Sith Lord ever alive were merged into one body.  No, Seven took back what he thought a minute ago.  It was possible for him to feel those kinds of feelings.  He pretty much felt them now, directed at one Rick McCallous.

     “That’s good, Brink,” he suddenly heard Trotter say.  “Now that is anger, that is hatred…”

     Then he felt it.  A tremor in the Force.  He didn’t want to say it was a danger sense, but that’s really what it was feeling like.  Seven had always had a keener “danger sense” than anyone else in the squadron.  Reno had told him that from almost the very beginning.  Something was about to happen!  He was in danger!

     Acting entirely on reflex, he reached into his costume and took out his hidden lightsaber—his real lightsaber—and ignited it, ready to fend off any upcoming attack.  His lightsaber blade basked the set in an eerie, green glow.  Seven looked around frantically, waiting for some kind of attack.  But all he ended up seeing as he looked around was the face of Rick McCallous, frozen in almost complete shock.

     It quickly dawned on Seven, and when he realized his error he wanted to swear out loud. 

     Reaching for his lightsaber was something that was entirely instinct for him.  He didn’t think about it.  He felt danger, he went for his saber.  That’s what he was trained to do.  A couple days play-acting isn’t going to erase a couple years of training just like that.  His keen instincts and strong danger sense, however, might’ve just cost him his mission.  Reno had told them to do this mission quietly, without drawing any attention to themselves.  And now here was Seven, standing in the middle of the set with his lightsaber activated, and all eyes on him.  How in the hell was he ever going to explain this?

     “What the hell is that?” McCallous finally whispered, not even trying to hide the shock and anger in his voice.

     “I can explain,” Seven stammered.  “Really…”

     “What the hell is that?!” McCallous repeated, even louder this time.

     “It’s actually a funny story,” Seven replied.  “You’re going to laugh…”

     “Trotter!” McCallous yelled.  “What the hell is going on here?”

     “I don’t know,” Trotter said quickly, looking from Seven then back to McCallous.  “I’m sorry, I don’t—”

     “That is a green lightsaber!” McCallous yelled out.  “Xanthis is evil.  Evil people have red lightsabers!  They do not have kriffing green lightsabers!  Green is reserved only for good guys!  Did you not get the kriffing memo I sent you?!”

     “I know!” Trotter yelled.  “I told him that before!  I did, really!”

     “This is just kriffing incredible!” McCallous balked, while standing up and kicking his chair over.  “This is just one of the most simple rules ever.  Good is green and blue, evil is red.  How kriffing hard is this?  What kind of show are you trying to run here?  Can‘t you keep your own kriffing actors in line?  Can‘t you keep a simple rule like this straight?”

     “I don’t know where he got a green lightsaber from,” Trotter said.  “We only gave him red.  Really, this isn’t my fault.”

     “Of course not!  You’re only the director, but none of this is your fault.  It’s never your fault, Trotter.  God, I need some kriffing fresh air.  I’m taking a smoke break.  When I get back you’d better have a kriffing red lightsaber in that guy’s hand.  And for crying out loud, let‘s try to invest a little more money into special effects, will ya?  That looks nothing like a real lightsaber.”

     With those words, McCallous stormed out of the room.  Trotter wasted no time in turning his attention to Seven.

     “What the hell were you thinking?!” he yelled.  “You know that you’re only supposed to have a red lightsaber!  What the hell were you thinking?!”
     “Uhh…I wasn’t?”

     “Damn straight you weren’t!  I told you before not to give Rick any ammunition to use against us, and you just gave him a kriffing turbolaser to shoot us with!  Oh, great, now I’m even talking like him…”   Trotter plopped down in his director’s chair and buried his face in his hands.

     Now it was Seven’s turn to stare in shock.  He didn’t really know what to say.  McCallous and Trotter had been so angry that he had a green lightsaber that they failed to see that he had a real lightsaber.  He just didn’t know what to say in response to that.

     But what was that danger sense about a minute ago?  That still was unanswered.  He had clearly felt something, and generally speaking the Force didn’t play practical jokes with you.  Why did he suddenly feel like he was in danger?

     He got his answer seconds later.

     The door to the set opened and closed, and someone new walked onto the set.  He was an older man, at least older than Seven.  He looked to be about fifty, maybe mid forties at the earliest.  At least that was how old he was supposed to look.  Seven knew that in reality the man was probably closer to mid twenties.  He wasn’t tall, but he was broad and muscled.  He wore your typical Imperial uniform decorated with many badges and medals.  He had his hair cut in short, military fashion, exactly what you would expect from someone who spent enough time in the service.  He also had a large scar running across his face, which made his face almost unrecognizable to Seven.

     Key word.  Almost.

     He did recognize him, though.  Even with the shorter hair, Imperial uniform and makeup on, he recognized him.  Even with the big fake scar, he recognized him.  Oh, the man played his part well, but Seven still recognized him.  It would be hard not to.

     Three months after joining Sith Squadron, Seven and the squad had dueled with this man in the skies above Taloraan.  That battle saw the death of one of the squad mates.  The following month, Seven had been part of a team sent to Rudrig to kill this man, along with his other squadron members.  That mission saw the deaths of several more squad mates, and almost cost he and Palin their lives.  Later that day, he had even flown with the man against the forces of Ysanne Isard.  The month after that, he and Palin had provided space support for a raid on a base this man had been staying at, and consequently they thought this man had died soon after during the loyalty test of Narska Plo’kre.

     Seven had never met him, never talked to him, but he knew him well enough to spot him through even a good makeup job.

     He was one of the best pilots the rebels had to offer.

     He was a crack shot with small arms.

     He was one of the ones that Narska Plo’kre “killed” to prove his loyalty.

     He was the one that had forced Jen and Thunder to fight for the right to have him on Rudrig.

    He was Wes Janson.

    And judging by the look on Janson’s face, Seven didn’t think he was the only one who had made a positive ID. 

     Apparently the Xanthis make up and costume weren’t that good.  Then again, Seven was still holding his activated lightsaber, which was a pretty damn big giveaway.  He quickly shut off the blade and stuffed the lightsaber hilt back into his uniform, though he wasn‘t sure that was the best place for it.  If Janson squealed on him, he was going to have to make a quick getaway.  But that wouldn’t be too smart now.  If Janson broke his cover, he could break Janson’s.  Coruscant was still an Imperial-held world.  Janson would be just as hunted here as Seven would be.  No…Janson wouldn’t break his cover.  At least not yet. 

     “Oh, glad you could make it,” Trotter said, while walking over to Janson and shaking his hand.  “Colonel Ian Liston, right?”

     “Ian, please,” Janson said back, his eyes never leaving Seven. 

     “Well, we’re glad to have you here, Ian,” Trotter said.  “You up for a tour of the set?  We were filming a scene, but there was a small problem and we seem to have stopped for the moment.”

     “Yes, a tour sounds splendid,” Janson said.  He was still staring at Seven, and speaking slowly and cautiously.

     Boy, this should throw an unexpected hydrospanner into his plans.  What was he going to do now?  Why was Janson here?  Why was he pretending to be an Imperial Colonel providing technical support for a holoshow?  He was going to have to ask him.  He needed to get Janson alone, before the Rebel pilot could talk to anyone else.

     “I’ll take him for a tour!” Seven suddenly burst out, before he even knew he said anything.

     Trotter glared harshly at Seven—no doubt still fuming over the lightsaber incident—then turned back to Janson.  “That okay with you, Ian?”

     Janson was slow in answering.  Seven knew why.  He didn’t want to be alone with Seven, whom he no doubt knew was a real Sith, but he also didn’t want to seem rude and stuck up on his first day on the set.  He wanted to make friends and blend in.  It was the same situation Seven had been in a couple days ago.  “Yes, that’s fine,” Janson finally said.  Then, rather suddenly, his demeanor changed.  He smiled and broke off into something of a rant, which Seven suspected was what he should’ve been doing all along.  The presence of Seven must’ve thrown him off his game.  “I love tours.  I went through several tours of duty in my years of service.  Those were fun.  I went on a tour to Endor, once.  Horrible trip.  I’ll never go to that company again.  Star Tours, they were called.  I don‘t know why.  Maybe because they were touring in the stars.  Who knows.  Annoying droid co-pilot, too.  I hate droids.  So, where to first?” 

     Seven quickly made his way off the docking bay set and headed over towards Janson.  He motioned with his hand towards the next set.  “This way,” he said, taking the lead, with Janson in tow.  They walked in silence for a minute, passing random crew members who were hard at work moving pieces of the set, or building new pieces.  As they walked further into the building, though, they ran across less and less crew.  Seven needed to find a quiet spot, a secluded spot, where they could…talk.

     Seven ushered Janson into a side room when he saw that no one was looking, then followed him in.  The side room, as it happened, was one of the many lighting rooms on the set.  It was full of all the different lighting equipment and controls boards that seemed capable of running anything and everything.  Once inside, Seven turned his back to Janson and shut the door.  Normally he wouldn’t turn his back on someone he considered his enemy, but his purpose in doing it was twofold.  One, the most obvious purpose, he needed to shut the door.  Two, the more important purpose, was to quietly reach into his robe and pull out his lightsaber.  Why did he suddenly feel like he needed his lightsaber again?  He knew the answer to that one before he even turned around.

     He was not surprised at all, once he turned around, to look straight into the muzzle of a small, holdout blaster, held tightly by Wes Janson.  The Rogue pilot wasn’t smiling, nor did he appear to be his normal, jovial self.  Through the make up and fake scar, Seven could see a very serious and determined, if not surprised, face.  He also seemed confident, knowing that he had the upper hand, seeing as how he had the blaster.  That confidence didn’t last long, though.  Seven motioned his downwards towards his hands, showing Janson the lightsaber that it held.  It was pointed towards Janson, and he wasn’t standing far enough away to avoid the blade if Seven activated it.  If he did turn on his lightsaber, its blade would go straight through Janson’s stomach.  While Janson could certainly get a shot off at Seven, it would be a death knell for Janson as well.  It was a standoff, and they both knew it.    

     “Who are you?” Janson asked, a dangerous edge in his voice.  “What do you want?”

     “You’re the one who pulled a gun on me and you’re asking me what I want?” Seven replied.  “You obviously don’t have much practice in pirating.  After you pull the gun, that’s when I ask you what you want.  Then you tell me to hand over all my money, and I’m all hysterical and I fish out my wallet and give you the few credits I have.  Then you say ‘This is it?!’ and I say ‘That’s it, I swear, I promise!’ then you punch me and run off.  I file a police report and never hear from them again, and you buy a beer with the money you stole.  Normally you don‘t pull a gun on someone and then ask them what they want.  Most of the time they’ll just say they want you to put the gun down.”

     Janson stared at him quizzically, as if severely confused.  “You’re a Sith,” he finally said.  “From Sith Squadron.”

     “And you’re a Rogue,” Seven responded.  “From Rogue Squadron.  Wes Janson, I do believe.”

     “Who are you?” he repeated, never taking the blaster off Seven.

     “Why should I tell you my name?” Seven asked back.

     “Because if you don’t, I’ll shoot you,” Janson replied.

     “Will you?” Seven asked back.  “Won’t that be an interesting sight, when they find you and I dead, one with a blaster shot to the head and one with a lightsaber through his stomach.  Oh, the rumors that will spread about us…”

     Seven knew he had scored a point.  Neither of them could harm the other without the rest of the cast finding out.  And seeing as how they were both undercover, neither could afford that.  Once Janson came to that realization, he lowered his weapon.  Seven, likewise, lowered his.

     “That’s much better,” Seven commented.  He held out his hand.  “Name’s Seven.  Gar Brink, though, around the set.”

     Janson looked cautiously at Seven’s hand, but never shook it.  Once Seven realized he wasn’t going to shake, he pulled his hand back.  An awkward silence followed.

     “So…” Seven slowly.  “One of us is going to have to open up a bit here.  I think it’s fairly obvious that we’re both here on missions.  Wanna tell me about why you’re here?  Unless Ian Liston happens to be Wes Janson’s real name, and Wes Janson is just a character you play in Rogue Squadron, and you’re some kind of Imperial spy, and now you’re just living out your real life...”

     “Why should I tell you why I’m here?” Janson asked.

     “Because…I’m curious,” Seven replied.  “Because…we might be able to help each other.  Most importantly, though…because I said so.”

     Janson seemed to take note of the emphasis and strength Seven put behind his last words.  “I was sent to investigate this show,” he said.

     “What a coincidence,” Seven said.  “So was I.  Please, do continue.”

     “There is nothing else.  I was sent to investigate this show.”

     “Why?” Seven asked.  “What interest do the Rebels have in a simple holoshow?”

     Janson gave Seven a look that heavily implied the phrase “Oh, give me a break.”

     “A simple holoshow?” Janson asked.  “Yes, a simple holoshow about a squadron of Sith pilots in an SSD that by no big coincidence just happens to be real, and that the New Republic has run across on several occasions.  But I‘m sure that‘s of absolutely no interest to us at all.  Now why are you here?”

     “A simple holoshow suddenly pops up that somewhat accurately portrays our squadron, has all the names right, and has stories based off our actual missions.  I’m sure that’s of no interest to us, either.”

     There was another awkward silence.  They were both holding back information, and they both knew it.

     “So now what?” Janson said.

     “That’s a good question,” Seven said.  “We both seem to be security risks to the other.  And since neither of us seems to want to trust the other enough to give out any more details from our mission…we’re kind of stuck, aren‘t we?”

     “Fine,” Janson said.  “This kind of caught us completely off guard.”

     “You’re not the only one,” Seven muttered.

     “We had no idea what to think of the show, when we heard it was in production.  We had only limited experience with your squadron, but what we did know we didn’t want the general public to know.  However, before we made any kind of action to stop the show, we needed to know what we were up against.  The last few times we’ve ran across you guys hasn’t ended well for either group, in part because we moved without enough information.  I was sent in to get information on you guys so we didn’t go in blind.”

     “Wait a second…get information on us?” he asked.  “You thought we were the creators of the show?”

     “Well, it makes sense,” Janson replied.  “Who else would have such detailed information on that mission on Rudrig and the battle with Isard?  We figured you guys had created the show.  I was sent in to see what we were up against and find a way, if possible, to stop the show.  If not, I was to return and set up a mission with the rest of the squad to stop you guys.  Your turn now.”

     Seven nodded.  “Well, it’s really the same as your story.  This whole thing kind of caught us off guard.  Someone in our group obviously leaked a little information to some big shot holoshow guy, and here we are.  Our job was to see what was up here, and stop the show.”

     “Our?” Wes asked.  “There are more of you here?”

     Seven silently cursed himself for giving up that information.  He hadn’t meant to mention the others.  He wanted them as his aces-in-the-hole.  Too late for that now.  “I have two others here with me,” he said.  “You?”

     “I’m here by myself,” Wes said.  “It was hard enough just getting me in, let alone more.”

     Seven was silent for a moment as he thought about his current situation.  Janson being here was certainly an unexpected twist, but it didn’t have to be an unwanted one.  Whether he was a Rogue or not, an enemy or not, he was still a highly trained military operative who was handy in tight situations.  And, by sheer coincidence or will of the Force, he was here for the exact same reasons as Seven, which meant their goals weren’t in conflict.  They could help each other out.  That is, if they could put aside their differences and work together.

     Seven could tell from Janson’s eyes that the Rogue was thinking the same thing.

     “You can’t turn me in, I can’t turn you in, and we have the same objectives…” Janson mumbled.  “We’re kind of stuck with each other, huh?”

     “Sure seems like it.”

     “What now?” Janson asked again.

     Seven thought for a minute.  “I think we need to coordinate with the others.  Once we are all together we can put our heads together and think of a way to stop this show.”

     “Okay,” Janson agreed.  “Where are they?”

     “Fox is on set posing as a cast member, like me.  J…” he stopped quickly, not wanting to tell Janson who the other member of his group was.  He had heard reports of what transpired with Janson, Jen and Thunder.  Seven didn’t think Janson would be as eager to help out if he knew that he would be going to see Jen again.  “…our back up is at the ship.  Usually when we take an unscheduled break like this it ends up lasting for a while.  Should be plenty of time to go to the ship, hook up with our person and get back.”                                                                       

     “Fine.”

     Seven turned to leave, but stopped when he felt a hand grab him by the arm.  He turned his head and looked back at Janson, who had a strong grip on Seven.

     “One question, before we go back…” Janson started slowly.  “Narska Plo’kre…what happened to him?”

     Seven turned his head back quickly so Janson couldn’t see his expression.  He didn’t want the Rogue to see his pained expression, nor did he want his face to betray him.  He still didn’t like to think about that incident, let alone talk about it, and he had no desire to do so with someone from the same squadron as Plo’kre.  It had been one of those rare moments when one ceased to be the person he was and for an instant became someone else.  And it wasn’t someone he liked.

     Or maybe it was the opposite, and that was what haunted him about that day.  Maybe in that moment he had been his true self, and the person that he thought he was…was just a facade.  A phantom personality.  A shadow.  Maybe deep down he really was the person he had been for those few moments.  Maybe he was a killer.

     Seven finally shrugged himself free and opened the door.  He got halfway through the door before he stopped and looked over his shoulder.  “He showed where his loyalties lie,” Seven said. 

    “And?”

    “…he paid for it.”

     Seven left.

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

     Zhukov was placing a plate of freshly baked muffins on the catering table when he saw two people sneaking off the set who shouldn’t have been sneaking off the set.  One was Gar Brink, the other Colonel Ian Liston.  Even though they had called for a break—which usually lasted for a while—no one was supposed to leave the set.  That was normally of no consequence to him.  What did he care if some actors left the set early?  It wasn’t his job to baby-sit them.

     These weren’t normal circumstances, and in this case, it was his job to baby-sit.

     He wasn’t watching an actor, though.  No, he was watching a Sith.  Not one of the higher ranking Sith from Sith Squadron, but a Sith nonetheless.  He and the people from his team were likely the only ones on set who knew the real identity of Gar Brink, known among his squadron as Seven, and of his furry partner Ben Ring, also known as Fox.  Nor did anyone except he know that “Colonel Ian Liston” was actually Rogue Squadron veteran Wes Janson.  Had the rest of the set known that two Sith Lords and a Rebel walked among them…

     But they didn’t know.  Only he did, and his men.  It was their job to watch them, and when the time was right…

     Where were they going?  Trotter certainly hadn’t called a wrap for the day.  Could they all be going back to the ship?  Zhukov had no doubt that Seven and Janson had recognized each other instantly, even through the other’s disguise.  Was Seven holding him hostage?  Perhaps taking him out to execute?  No, it wasn’t his style.  Nor was it Janson’s style to do that had Seven been his prisoner.  That left one option…they were going to plan together.  They both realized they needed each other’s help, and they were going to work together.  This…was not good.  The last thing he and his men needed was a Rogue getting in the way.  No, this wasn’t good at all.  This was going to have to be stopped, and stopped before it could even begin.  First things first, he needed to—

     “Hey Zhukov, we need help over here!”

     He turned and looked over his shoulder to the voice behind him.  It was one of the people from catering, and one of the real caterers, not one of his agents.

     Zhukov smiled, once again putting on the front that he was nothing more than a cook who didn’t know how to speak Basic very well.  “Yes, what is problem?” 

     “Owen is complaining about his meal.”

     “What else new?”

     The caterer smiled.  “Tell me about it.  Still, he wants to yell—talk—to you personally.”

     “Tell him…I be right there.”

     The caterer nodded and retreated back to the cafeteria.

     Zhukov sighed.  He wasn’t going to be able to follow Seven and Janson.  He was going to have to call in and hope one of the others could get the job done.  Stupid actors.  He grabbed a comlink from his belt and clicked it on.  He looked around and when he saw he was alone he whispered into the comlink.

     “Bravo One, this is Alpha Lead.  We have a situation forming.  Over.”

     “Alpha Lead, Bravo One.  Go.  Over.”

     “Drunks Two and Three seem to be headed back to the bar a bit earlier than usual and they are not alone.  Designate the target with them…um…Ewok One.  Over.”

     “Continue to watch for now?  Over.”

     “Negative, Bravo One.  The presence of Ewok One has pushed up the plan.  Start the jamming and begin Phase Two.  Over.”

     “Will Alpha and Sigma be joining us?  Over.”

     Zhukov sighed.  “Negative for now, Bravo One.  This will have to be done with only Bravo, Delta and Gamma.  Alpha and Sigma will join you once we can.  Until then, you’re in charge, Bravo One.  Make us all proud.  Over.”

     There was a hint of eagerness and pride in Bravo One’s voice.  “Will do, sir.  Bravo One, out.”    

     Zhukov switched off the comlink and pocketed it.  He silently turned around and headed back to the cafeteria, his thoughts far from food or actors or anything of the sort.  This was it.  This was the real test.  He and his men had been hired on their claim that they were so good they could go toe to toe with Jedi or Sith, if need be.  While he always had full confidence in his men, he had never expected an employer to actually pit his people against Force-strong enemies.  And now, six of his men were about to attack several Jedi and one rogue…uh…Rogue.  It was killing him that he couldn’t be a part of the battle.  How would it go without him there to lead his men?  Would they still be successful?  Would they be wiped out?  Would they accomplish their mission? 

     All Zhukov could do is wait and trust that he trained his men well. 

* * * * * * * * * * * * 

     “What the hell is he doing here?” Fox blurted out as Seven led Janson out of the parking lot and into the not so crowded Coruscant street where the alien hybrid stood.  Fox was now out of his shiny motion capture suit and into his more normal street clothes, which frankly wasn’t saying much as the kid had no real sense of fashion.  He was the lucky one, though.  He could easily take off his shiny motion capture suit and get into real clothes.  Seven couldn’t exactly ditch his Xanthis make up or costume.  It took hours to get out of that make up.  He was stuck with it until the makeup people took it off.  So, for the time being, he had to parade around Coruscant dressed as Xanthis.

     “Forget that,” Janson said as he got his first glimpse of Fox.  “What the hell is he?”

     Seven shrugged.  “He’s a little of this, a little of that.”

     “I’m a hybrid alien,” Fox said.  “It’s a very long, but very interesting story.  It all started when—”

     “Later,” Seven interrupted.  He paused and looked at Fox.  “Much, much later.  We need to get back to the Seal Breaker.  Once there we can figure out how to bring this show down.”

     “Agreed,” Janson said.

     “Don’t I get a vote?” Fox said.

     Janson and Seven turned to him and, in unison, emphatically said “no” before walking off down the street and leaving Fox behind.      

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

     The trip to the Seal Breaker was very short and very quiet.  Neither Sith nor Rogue seemed to want to strike up any kind of conversation, and as far as Seven was concerned, that was fine with him.  Even if Wes Janson was going to help him bring down this fake Sith Squadron show, he really had nothing to say to the man.  He suspected Janson felt the same way.

     As the three entered the docking bay where their ship was berthed, Seven was a bit surprised to note that Jen hadn’t come out to greet them.  He knew for a fact that they had the entrances all under surveillance with feeds hooked up to the computers on the Seal Breaker.  Jen should’ve seen them coming and should have been out there to greet them, if only to yell and question why they had come back early.

     And yet, she wasn’t here.

     He was starting to feel it again.  That creeping sense of terror and dread.  That horrible sense that something was wrong.  Could there have been some kind of attack?  No, it didn’t feel like that.  There were no blaster marks anywhere, or the smell of blaster fire or burnt duracrete.  It didn’t feel like someone had attacked.  If just felt…off.

     Seven cast a glance at the two behind him.  Janson looked like he was on guard, but that was how he had looked ever since he had laid eyes on Seven.  And Janson was about to walk into a ship crewed by three of his enemies.  He would have had that nervous, on guard look regardless. 

     Fox, to his surprise, didn’t seem to be picking up on this feeling of dread.  He just continued to trod along behind them, unaware of any warning he might be receiving via the Force.  That dismayed Seven a bit.  Even if Fox hadn’t been with the squadron for a long time, by then he should have always had himself open and receptive to the Force.  He should always be ready for traps or attacks.  He should be able to sense what Seven was sensing.  But he wasn’t, and that was something that he was going to have to make sure Fox worked on.

     Seven stopped in front of the ship and hit a button, opening up an access pad.  He keyed in the lock code and a hatch on the underbelly of the ship started to descend.  The feeling of dread intensified as the ramp continued to lower.  Seven was suddenly unsure if this was a great plan.  Maybe they should just return to the set and come back later.  Something just didn’t feel right…

     “Are you going to go in or just stare at the ramp all day?” Janson suddenly asked, startling Seven, who until that point had been unaware that he was staring.  “I only ask because if it’s the latter, I’d rather know so I can grab a chair.”

     Something wasn’t right…

     “Let me go in alone,” Seven said quietly.

     “Why?” Fox asked.

     Seven struggled to find a lie.  It was obvious Fox wasn‘t picking up on this sense of dread, and neither was Janson.  He didn‘t want to panic them.  C‘mon, think, think…

     “Well, Jen doesn’t know we’re bringing in Janson and I don’t want to startle her.  She might see him and shoot first…”

     “Jen?!” Janson suddenly burst out, and Seven silently swore.  He knew from the stories he heard about Rudrig that Janson wouldn’t be happy to see Jen again, or Thunder for that matter.  Luckily the latter wasn’t here.  Unfortunately, the former was.  And that could be a problem.  “As in Jeni Violet?!  As in that crazy Sith chick who tried to seduce me?  That’s it, screw you guys, I’m going home…”

     Janson turned to leave, but Seven grabbed him by the shoulder and hauled him back.  He looked the Rogue in the eyes as he spoke.  “Look, we need to bring this show down.  You need to bring this show down.  We can’t do it ourselves, and neither can you.  I realize that you have some problems with Jen, but they’re going to have to remain your problems.  Put them aside for now, and I’ll make sure Jen does, too.  The mission is more important than personal issues.  Got it?”

     Janson silently nodded.

     “Good.  Now let me go in first.  I’ll explain the situation and then call you guys in.  Just wait here for a second and be patient, okay?”

     Both Janson and Fox nodded.

     “Could we have a second here?” Seven asked Janson, motioning for him to move a few feet away.  Janson walked over towards the ramp.  Once the Rogue was out of range, he quietly said, “Keep an eye on Janson…make sure he doesn’t try anything.” 

     Fox nodded, obviously happy to have been given such an important assignment.      

     Seven then started for the ramp of the Seal Breaker and as he walked by Janson he quietly whispered to the Rogue, “Hey, keep an eye of Fox…he has a knack for getting himself into trouble.”

     Janson nodded, obviously upset that he was forced into taking orders from an enemy to baby-sit another enemy.  Fox and Janson then turned and began to stare at each other.

     Seven quietly moved up the ramp, trying his best to make no sounds while at the same time trying not to look suspicious to Fox and Janson.  He still wasn’t even sure why he was being so cautious. There could be tons of reasons why Jen wasn’t out here to greet them.  She could be sleeping after having too much alcohol.  Or she could be passed out at the bar, which is slightly different than sleeping after too much alcohol.  Or she could be awake and just too drunk to care about them.  Or…

     Or she could’ve been attacked and subdued.  Or she could be dead.  There were too many possibilities to run through his head, both optimistic and pessimistic.  The only thing he could really do is investigate and find out.  To that end, he slowly crept into the ship.

     It was quiet.  Quiet and dark.  It certainly looked, to him, like there was no one home.  Then again, Jen could’ve turned off all the lights because they were too bright for her in her current drunken state, their presence offending her.  No, couldn’t be that.  The light panels were merely turned off.  If their presence had offended her, she would’ve just broken them all, not turned them off.

     The bar was empty.  That was obvious right off the bat, as the ramp opened up into the ship’s lounge, where the bar was located.  The bar had been Jen’s operations center on this mission.  Something was definitely wrong.

     He reflexively let his hand slide down until it ran across his lightsaber.  No, he couldn’t use it in here.  The area was too narrow.  He would be hitting bulkheads and tearing up the ship if he was forced to use it.  Reno wouldn’t appreciate his ship being torn apart.

     The weapons locker.

     Seven crept over to the weapons locker, which was located at the far end of the lounge and near the path to the cockpit.  It wasn’t a very full weapons locker, but it did have several blasters in it, and one heavy assault rifle.  Because of the tight quarters on the ship, he opted for a smaller blaster.  He grabbed it from the locker and checked the charge.  Satisfied that it was fully powered, he continued down the short corridor, which led to the cockpit.  It was in that corridor that he heard it.  Voices.  In the cockpit.  Two of them.  One male, one female.  He tensed as he began to creep slower and slower towards his destination. 

     “Can’t hear you too well, Bright Eyes, you’re breaking up,” the female voice said, and Seven was instantly relieved as the voice was clearly Jen’s.  But, to whom was she talking? 

     The voice that replied was not distinguishable.  Static broke apart the communications so bad that Seven couldn’t tell if the voice was male, female, human or alien.  To make it worse, he only caught bits and pieces of it.

     “…status…ort…operation…preparing for…”

     “Everything is proceeding exactly as planned,” Jen replied. 

     “And Seven?”

     Seven listened intently at the sudden mention of his name.  Who was she talking to?  And why did they want to know about Seven?

     “I don’t think he suspects anything, but I don’t expect that to last.  Heck, he might’ve already figured me out and just hasn’t approached me about it.  He’s not as naive as he used to be.  He sees and understands things better.  He is wary about my behavior.  He can see something is going on.  He just doesn’t know what.  But he will, I can promise you that.  It’s foolish to underestimate him.  Don’t forget what happened last time he was betrayed, underestimated and ticked off.  He killed Narska without hesitation and mopped the bridge of the SSD with Sidrona’s ass.”

     “Don’t question…Eleven.  I’m in charge…”

     “From here it doesn’t look like you’re in charge of jack…hold up.  Son of a…”

     “What is…?”

     “Thanks to you I was ignoring my security cameras.  I got two people outside the Seal Breaker.  One of them is definitely Fox, but the other’s face I can’t see.  He’s turned away from the camera…wait a second.  I know that butt.  Janson?”

     “Wes Janson?” the voice replied.

     “No, Ted Janson,” Jen replied sarcastically.  “Of course Wes Janson.”

     “What is he…there?”

     “Gee, it’s hard to tell from here, but it looks like he’s standing.  What do you think I am, a psychic?  How am I supposed to know what he’s here for?  Damn it…wait, Fox is there, and Janson…where’s Seven?  Bright Eyes, I have to go.  We could be compromised.”

     “Deal with this…uation, Eleven.  Bright Eyes, out.”

     Seven had no idea what to make of that conversation.  It was obvious that he wasn’t supposed to hear it, though.  Jen had been talking to an outside source while on a secret mission.  And that someone seemed to think that he or she was in charge of Jen.  It didn’t sound like Reno, either.  If it had been, he wouldn’t have used the code name “Bright Eyes.”

     Oh god…

     Suddenly, things were starting to make sense.  Jen’s attitude as of late…why she had been seemingly trying to mess up the operation…the show itself…Bright Eyes…it all made sense.  Holy Sadow, it all made sense.  And he was going to have to act on it.  And act now.  This wasn’t just his life in danger; it was also Fox’s.  Oh, and Janson’s.  But most importantly, it was his.  But even more importantly…he though of Palin, back on the SSD, and the child inside of her.  His child.  Their child.  He was going to have to do something about Jen, and right now.  He couldn’t take a chance and turn his back on her.

     With that, he turned into the cockpit with his blaster already up. 

     Jen turned a second before he was fully in the doorway, no doubt having sensed an attack, but she couldn’t get to her weapon in time.

     “Seven!” she said, alarm in her voice.  “Look, I can explain…”

     He didn’t give her a chance to.

     He fired.

     The blue stun beam shot out and hit her head on.  The force of the blast knocked her backwards into a wall of blinking lights, then she fell forward onto her knees.  A shower of sparks erupted behind her as the blinking light unit she hit gave a small explosion.  As powerful as the blasts had been (both the stun bolt and the explosion), they hadn’t fully knocked her out yet, though from the look in her eyes it was clear to Seven that she was well on her way to passing out.  Jen lifted her head up enough to look at Seven and he could see the dizziness and pain in her eyes.

     “I am so going to kick your ass for that,” was all she could say before she fell face first onto the cold steel floor of the cockpit.    

     The first thing he did was reach down, unclip her lightsaber from her belt, and clip it onto his.  No sense in taking any chances.  Seven stared at her unconscious body in complete silence.  He didn’t know what to think.  He had caught Jen conspiring with someone he didn’t know on a secret mission that he knew nothing about…and he had shot her.  Oh boy…oh boy oh boy…what was he supposed to do now?  Interrogate her?  He didn’t really have time for that.  This was supposed to be a quick trip to the Seal Breaker and then back to the set for the rest of the day.  What was he supposed to do?  Not return to the set?  No, he and Fox would have to go back for sure.  Leave Janson to watch Jen?  Seven doubted Janson would want that job.  But even that was a moot point, since Janson would have to be on set acting as Ian Liston, retired Imperial pilot and military advisor.  And they certainly couldn’t just secure Jen and leave her alone on the ship…

     His thoughts were interrupted as he heard footsteps running up the ramp.  He turned into the hallway and saw Fox and Janson running into the Seal Breaker, blasters in hand.  They looked first at Seven, then at Jen’s body, motionless on the floor.  Fox’s mouth dropped.

     “What did you do?” he whispered.

     “I stunned her,” Seven explained.  “I had to.  I interrupted a conversation between her and someone she called ‘Bright Eyes.’  They were talking about some mission that was proceeding as planned.  Then they talked about me, and Jen said that I was a threat not to be underestimated.  Then she saw you two on the camera, freaked out, said they might be compromised and was ordered to ‘deal with the situation.’  I had to make an on the spot threat assessment.”

     “So you shot her?” Fox asked as he walked into the cockpit, tiptoeing over Jen’s body.  He took a seat in the swivel chair next to the monitor with the security feeds.

     “Yes.”

     “She is so going to kick your ass for that,” Fox replied.

     “Maybe, but that’s going to have to come later,” Seven said.  “We need to secure Jen and get out of here, right now.”

     “Why?” Fox asked.

     “Because,” Janson interrupted.  “The last word ‘Bright Eyes’ got was that Jen might’ve been compromised.  If that’s the case, and they have support in the area, then he might’ve sent them on over to help her deal with the situation.  In that case, in a very short amount of time, we’re going to have—”

     “—company,” Fox finished for him, staring at the security monitor.

     “Exactly,” Seven said.  “Now we need to do this quickly.  Janson, get—”

     “No,” Fox cut in, pointing to the monitor in front of him.  “I mean that we have company outside.  And I don’t think they’re here to sell us cookies.”

     Seven and Janson scrambled towards the screen and peered over Fox’s shoulder.  Just as the little fur ball said, they had company.  Six people.  And commandos, from the looks of them.  Definitely some kind of covert ops outfits.  All black, radios, assault rifles…they moved with military precision as they took up positions behind boxes and inside door arches.  Once they were in their positions, though, they held them. 

     “They’re not moving in,” Seven observed.

     “No, they’re not,” Janson replied.  “Why aren’t they moving in on us?”

     “Jen,” Seven said.  “They don’t have a status update on her.  They don’t want to move in yet.  If they move without info, she could be executed for all they know.  They’re going to wait us out.”

     “We can’t just sit here,” Janson said, then just about slapped himself in the head.  “Hey, we’re in a ship.  Take off.  Get us out of here.”

     Seven nodded and jumped into the pilot’s seat.  Duh, how obvious was that?  He couldn’t believe he didn’t think of it immediately.  He reached across the control panel and started to activate the engines, but just as soon as he had flicked that switch some of the computer terminals to their side exploded and the cockpit went dark, all power drained out.

     “What the hell was that?” Fox asked.

     Seven swore.  “When I stunned Jen she hit that blinking light unit over there.  I have no idea what that thing does other than make the lights on it blink, but she fell into it and damaged it.  Apparently it does something critical, as we appear to have lost all power.  We’re not taking off any time soon, nor can we activate shields or weapons.  Hell, we can‘t even raise the boarding ramp at this point.  They can come in at their leisure.” 

     “So what do we do?” Janson asked.

     Seven didn’t exactly jump at the chance to answer that question.  He had no idea what they could do now.  His mission leader incapacitated, and possibly a traitor, his ship damaged to the point where it couldn’t power up, and six unknown enemies outside with guns pointed at their only way out. 

     “We could try to just make a run for it,” Fox suggested.  “The boarding ramp is already down, and it’s a straight path from the boarding ramp to the docking bay exit.  And the door to the docking bay is even open.  We can just make a break for it.”

     “Sure thing, fuzz ball,” Janson said.  “You first.”

     Fox shut up.

     “Wait…” Seven said, as an idea began to creep into his head.  “He’s right.  We have a straight path from the boarding ramp to the exit.  We can make it.”

     “You’re both insane,” Janson muttered.  “I’m not running through that gauntlet.  We wouldn’t make it halfway to the door, even with you two swinging lightsabers.”

     Seven shot him a grin.  “Who said anything about running?”

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

     “This is insane…” Janson muttered as he held onto Seven for dear life, even though they weren‘t even moving yet.

     “Insane plans for insane times, and all that,” Seven replied back, starting his engine and paying Janson’s complaining no mind.  The Rebel was right, though.  The plan was insane.  Quite insane.  And very worthy of a Sith.  He called back to Fox.  “You ready back there?”

     “Ready as ever, Seven,” Fox called back.  Seven heard the engine behind him hum to life.  It looked like they were good to go.  He wanted to offer some kind of words of encouragement or advice to Fox, but they really weren’t necessary.  What words could he offer him other than to fly straight and don’t get shot?  Fox wasn’t the smartest of the group, but even he didn’t need to be told that.

     And the plan was simple enough for even Fox to understand.  Seven had initially forgotten that they were aboard, but the Seal Breaker always had two swoops in its cargo hold.  Often times the Siths had to land on a planet and pursue a target on the ground.  Each shuttle had two swoops in storage for instances like this. 

     The plan was simple.  Seven and Janson on the first swoop with Seven driving; Fox and Jen on the second swoop, with Fox driving and Jen tied securely to the back of the bike.  This model of swoop wasn’t normally meant to carry two riders, which was definitely going to slow them down a bit.  That fact worried Seven a little, but not much.  They weren’t going to need them for long.  All they had to do was fly as fast as they could out of the ship and through the doors of the docking bay.  After that…well, they didn’t have an “after that” part of the plan yet.  First things first, get out of deadly situation.  Second things second, think of rest of plan later.

     The enemies outside had no doubt heard the engines of their swoops powering up, though.  They were sure to be ready for this.  They were going to fire the second they saw motion.  Odds were that people as trained as they looked were going to hit something.  Odds might not be for Corellians, but they sure were for Bakurans, like Seven.  He really hated the odds of this plan working.  That said, he hated the odds of something good coming from waiting around even more.  They had to get to a safe, secure location so they could question Jen and figure out what the hell was going on.

     “On three, Fox.”

     “Roger that,” the hybrid said softly, but loud enough to hear over the roar of the engines.

     “One…”

     He thought about Palin, and if he’d ever see her again. 

     “Two…”

     He thought about his unborn child, and wondered if the outcome of his plan would result in him never seeing it.

    “Three.”

     He thought no more.  He simply put all power into the swoop and had it take off as fast as it possibly could with two people riding.  The force of the takeoff almost knocked him off the bike, and he was amazed that Janson actually managed to hold on.  He shot out of the Seal Breaker at a tremendous speed, with Fox closely on his tail.  Seven was just glad not to have hit his head on the doorframe on the way out, as that would’ve ended his trip really quickly.

     He hadn’t even cleared the ramp before he began to take incoming fire.  The blaster shots missed hitting Seven, but didn’t miss his swoop.  As the bike shot towards the door to the docking bay, it racked up hit after hit.  The body of the swoop was soon covered with scorch marks and smoke was pouring out of the rear.  The worst thing was that he couldn’t even look behind him for a second to see if Fox was still following.  One head turn could cause him to turn to the side too much and crash into the docking bay wall.

     That would end his trip even worse than hitting his head on the doorframe would.

     Just a little bit longer…a little bit further...

     Seven edged closer and closer to the door and his swoop took more and more hits.  The bike wasn’t going to last much longer.  He knew that.  Smoke was everywhere now, and he wouldn’t be surprised to find out that the bike was on fire.  Just a little bit further…

     And suddenly he was out.

     The doors to the docking bay shot by and his swoop emerged into the open street at a ridiculous speed, nearly running over several pedestrians.  Relieved that he was out of the docking bay and away from danger, he went to slow down his swoop.

     But the swoop didn’t slow.

     In fact, it didn’t respond at all.

     Apparently some time in the very brief escape his controls had been damaged.  He still had power steering, but the accelerator and brake didn’t seem to be functioning at all. 

     “Slow down or we‘re going to crash!” he faintly heard Janson yell.

     “Great advice, Olie!” he yelled back.  “Brakes aren’t responding, though!  Any ideas?!”

     “Yeah, up!”

     Seven cast a quick glance back at Janson.  Up?  What the hell did “Up!” mean?  Some strange Rebel code?  Seven shook his head and turned his attention back to the street.  Just in time to see a huge cargo hauler heading directly towards him.  He didn’t realize until then that he had pulled out onto the wrong side of the road.  Seven pulled the controls toward him and the swoop shot upwards almost vertically.  While the move saved them from crashing into the cargo hauler, it also succeeded into putting them in the middle of a busy intersection.  For a second Seven forgot that traffic on Coruscant was a three dimensional thing.  There was traffic in front of you, to the sides, up above, down below and off to any which angle you could think of.  Pulling up wasn’t necessarily the safest thing to do.

     Once he realized his mistake, he dropped the swoop back down towards the level he had been at before and leveled out.  He was still on the wrong side of traffic, though.  He tried to swerve onto the right side, but a speeder pulled right into his way and he had to swerve back.  Honks from the speeders that swerved to avoid hitting him were loud and clear.  Even louder in his ears was the sound of Wes Janson and his screaming.

     “C’mon, Seven, stop this thing!”

     Seven continued to weave in and out of traffic, trying his best not to hit anything.  He didn’t even know where Fox was.  He could’ve been right behind him or could’ve never made it out of the docking bay, for all Seven knew.  But Janson was right, they had to stop.

     Unfortunately for them, that didn’t seem to be in the cards.

     A speeder bus full of school kids came out of nowhere and was coming at them head on.  The only option he had was to take his swoop into another climb and risk being caught in the cross-traffic.  The bike shot upwards as he yanked on the controls, narrowly avoiding the bus.  They flew dangerously back into the traffic above them and Seven tried his best to level the bike out.  He encountered another problem, though.  The bike wasn’t responding.  The controls seemed to be locked, or damaged so badly that they weren’t even working.       

     Seven sighed as he realized what he was going to have to do.

     He carefully reached over to his belt and grabbed his lightsaber.  He unhooked it and reached backwards so that the hilt was pressing against the engine of his swoop.  And then, without hesitation, he ignited the weapon.  The green saber cut right through the middle of the swoop’s engine and a shower of sparks erupted.  The bike stopped and hung in the air for a moment, totally dead

     “What the hell are you doing?!” Janson yelled in his ear.

     “Saving us or killing us…” Seven responded.  “I haven’t decided yet.”

     Then the bike dropped.

     Quickly.

     They plunged headfirst straight down through multiple levels of traffic, through several intersections with speeders going in every which direction.  The speed of the drop was intense and the wind and gravity forced the skin on his face to be pushed back.  Seven didn’t even try to pull on the controls and make the swoop level out.  He knew that would be pointless.  Instead, he began to reach out with the Force and slow down their descent to the point where the crash would probably only wound them severely and not kill them. 

     Slowly, as they plunged through the crisscrossing traffic, the swoop began to decelerate.  Seven knew that he couldn’t slow them down enough, though.  As much as the Force could slow him down, he couldn’t totally defy gravity with it. 

     Using the Force again, Seven pushed the swoop to the left so that they would eventually crash hard into the sidewalk instead of continuing their downward plunge into the underbelly of Coruscant.  The wind still whipped hard at his face as they plummeted towards the ground, and Seven was quite sure that he had just swallowed a bug.  As they rapidly approached the sidewalk, Seven closed his eyes and braced for impact. 

     Because he had managed to put the swoop at something of a horizontal angle, the crash into the sidewalk wasn’t nearly as bad as he had expected.  It was still rough, though.  The bike skidded from side to side, sparks erupting from the already on fire swoop as the metal scraped against the duracrete.  Pedestrians frantically dove out of the path of the out of control swoop.

     The swoop wouldn’t stop.

     More importantly, it wouldn’t stop and it was heading towards the end of the sidewalk.  About twenty meters ahead, the sidewalk just ended and there was a drop that was probably only a couple of kilometers deep.  A drop like that was something that Seven was sure would ruin his day very effectively.

     Seven had tried the best he could to slow it down before the crash, to slow down its momentum, but apparently he hadn’t done that good of a job.  The bike continued to skid across the sidewalk and head towards the edge.  They were only seconds away from making a second plunge, and this one was sure to kill them.  Seven glanced quickly at the duracrete below him, which was moving so fast that it was all a blur.  He sighed.  This was going to hurt…

     He turned around as much as he could while sitting on the swoop, grabbed Janson by wrapping his arms around him, and jumped off the bike. 

     They hit the ground hard and rolled for several meters, though they both recovered from the fall quick enough to turn and see their bike go speeding over the edge.  For a moment they both just laid on the ground, panting and breathing hard, both taking in the fact that despite thinking death was moments away, they had both survived.  Neither spoke, though.  Nothing really popped in Seven’s mind as something appropriate to say.  He searched for a smart-ass comment to say—perhaps a joke about any landing you could walk away from—but nothing really funny popped into his mind.

     And then a driver-less, but not passenger-less, swoop slowly—very slowly—drifted by them and came to a stop, and any comment Seven could‘ve made to break the ice vanished.

     Seven instantly recognized the bike as the one that Fox had been riding, though more because Jen was tied to the back of the swoop than any distinguishing factor about the swoop itself.  Absent from the swoop, however, was its driver, Fox.  Seven instantly began to worry.  Had he been hit?  Had one of the soldiers actually taken out Fox when they made their escape?   What if—

     “Where’s the fuzzy little kid?” Janson asked, while pushing himself to his feet and dusting himself off.  The Imperial uniform that he still wore was now dirty, with several holes torn in it.  “Did he get hit?”

     “I don’t know,” Seven responded, similarly standing up and cleaning off the dust on his robes.  It was only then, as he wiped the dirt off his clothes, that he remembered he was still wearing his Xanthis make up.  They had been in such a hurry to leave the set that he didn’t have the time to take anything off.  “I didn’t see.”

     “Shoot…” Janson muttered.  “Should we look for him?”

     “With those commandos gunning for us?  Not likely.  Fox isn’t that important to the squadron.  He’s expend—”

     “Heeey!” they heard a voice yelling, off in the distance.  They both turned and looked down the street.  Fox was running down the street towards them, pushing his way through the crowd.  Seven was instantly relieved to see that Fox had survived the escape from the Seal Breaker, although not so much because he cared about Fox’s well being.  If someone died on his watch, he would have to fill out paperwork back on the SSD.  He hated paperwork.

     “What happened to you?” Seven asked as the furry little hybrid alien stopped in front of him, huffing and puffing.

     “I was trying my best to follow that insane suicide dive that you did.  But, uh…I kind of accidentally hit the ejection button and was thrown off the bike.”

     “You went EV again?” Seven asked.

     “Yeah…” Fox grumbled, embarrassment creeping into his voice.  Despite having the last name “Starfighter”, Fox went extravehicular more than any Sith in the squadron.  In fact, Fox had yet to make it all the way through a dogfight without being ejected from his fighter.  Apparently his luck—or lack of luck—extended to more vehicles than just starfighters.  “I’m okay, though, in case you were wondering.”

     “I wasn’t,” Janson muttered.

     Fox snarled at Janson and then turned back to Seven.  “So what now?”

     “Well, we’re going to need a new base of operations,” Seven replied, not adding in what else he was thinking: And a place to interrogate Jen.  “For the time being, we have to assume that the Seal Breaker is in enemy hands.”

     “The studio?” Fox suggested.

     Seven shook his head.  “Too public.”

     “I got an apartment,” Janson suddenly said.

     “What?”

     “An apartment.  Well, actually, Colonel Ian Liston has an apartment.  But since he won’t be needing it for a while, I’m sure we can use it.”

     “Wait…” Seven said.  “There’s a real Ian Liston?”

     Janson nodded.  “We didn’t have the time to create an entirely new person for me to play.  We needed a retired, established fighter pilot, but not one that is too well known.  Liston fit the bill.  He’s got a place here on Coruscant that isn‘t to far from the set.  We can go there.”

     Seven thought about it for a minute.  It was risky.  There was always the chance that these commandos would look for them at Liston’s apartment.  They were obviously well trained and knew what they were doing.  Seven had little doubt that they had ID’d Janson (or Colonel Liston, he should say) and would be checking out his place.  It would be very risky to go there.  Too risky.  But really, what choice did they have at this point?

     “Fine, lead the—”

     Seven stopped as he spotted them.  The commandos.  They were still far away, though they were rapidly approaching, pushing their way through the crowded Coruscant street, weapons drawn and ready.  They were looking down each street and alley, which Seven took as a sign that they hadn’t seen them yet.

     “Grab Jen, quickly!” Seven barked.  “We have to get out of here.”

     Janson reached down and plucked Jen off the bike, hoisting her over his shoulders.  “Where to?” Janson asked. 

     Seven looked around frantically for a place to hide.  Something…anything…they just needed a place to evade their pursuers.  They just needed—

     He found it.

     A bar.  How fitting.  He couldn’t see the full name, though.  A large cargo truck had parked itself in front of the building, obscuring the second half of the sign.  The Blue…something.  The Blue…why did that sound familiar?  Didn’t matter.  It was a hiding place.

     “In there!” Seven said, pointing to the bar.  The three men, with Jen on Janson’s shoulders, ran across the street and pushed the their way into the bar.  Once the doors closed behind them, Seven instantly regretted going to this particular bar.  Inside everything was bathed in neon and fluorescent lights with a strange sounding techno music blaring.  There were cages hanging from the ceiling, with scantily clad sentient beings, human and alien, dancing.  No…not just humans and aliens dancing.  Males…and only males dancing.  And now that Seven took the time to scan the bar, human and alien males were all that he could see.  He quickly scanned the walls for a sign identifying the bar (though he was pretty sure of the full name now), and it didn’t take long to find.  There, in flashy neon blue letters highlighted by a red border with two little cubes hanging from it, was a sign that read “The Blue Dice.”  He cast a glance at Janson, who had come to the same conclusion he had.

     Fox also picked up on the fact that something was odd, though he seemed to have missed a critical part of it.  “Huh…lots of guys in this bar,” he observed, his voice confused and innocent.  “Must be Guys Night or something.” 

     “I have the feeling that every night is Guys Night here,” Janson remarked.

     “What do you mean…” Fox started as he looked around.  His eyes darted quickly from one leather-clad male to the next before it finally dawned on him.  “Oh.”

     “C’mon,” Seven said.  “We need to keep moving.  Those guys might’ve seen us come in.  Let’s go to the bar and try to blend in.”

     The others followed his lead and they started over towards the bar.  They hadn’t even gone a few steps when they heard someone speaking over the house PA system.

     “Gentlemen, we have a special treat for you tonight!” the voice said.  “He comes to us from a big ship in the depths of space where he uses the Force all day.  But this man isn’t a Jedi…no, he’s a big, bad Sith Lord!  Here he is, the bad boy of Sith Squadron, the one, the only…JACE SIDRONA!”

     Seven’s eyes popped open and he turned his head slowly towards the stage.  Bursting out of a curtain wasn’t the real Jace Sidrona, but instead Zak Tucker, the man hired to play him on the show.  He must’ve left the set early to do a special appearance at the bar.  Zak was still decked out in the clothes that Jace actually wore most of the time…plain trousers and a vest.  Those clothes, however, didn’t stay on long.  He stripped them off and tossed them out to the crowd, happily dancing his naked self across the stage.  Consciously he knew it wasn’t really Jace…but it was just far too close a resemblance for Seven’s liking.  Shaking his head and putting away the disturbing visual, he continued on to the bar.

     Once there Seven plopped himself down on a barstool, with Fox on his right and Janson to his left.  Jen, still knocked out and tied up, they propped down below against the barstool.  Almost instantly a bartender approached. 

     “What’ll it be for you, boys?” he asked, his voice every bit as feminine as Seven figured it would be.

     “Whyren’s Reserve,” he said, casting occasional glances at the main entrance.  So far, no commandos.

     “Hmph,” the bartender grunted, apparently offended by Seven‘s choice of beverage.  “I’m sorry, but here we serve high class, sophisticated alcohol.  Not…Whyren’s Reserve.  If you want that, go down to one of those taverns down the street.  Don’t waste my time asking for it here, though.”

     “Fine, fine,” Seven muttered, scanning the many bottles of alcohol on the wall in front of him.  The majority of them he had never even heard of, although one bottle near the top did catch his eye.  He decided to try it out.  Maybe it would be as good as Whyren’s?

     “Just give me a bottle of Samuel Jackson.”

     The bartender turned around and scanned the many bottles of alcohol.  Although it had been one of the first bottles that Seven had seen, the bartender wasn’t having that much luck in locating it.

     “Hmm…which one is it?” he asked Seven.

     “It’s the one that says “bad mutha f—”

     BOOM!

     The entire bar shook as the front door to the bar suddenly exploded, blowing shrapnel and shards all over the club.  Patrons in the club all ducked and covered as debris rained down from above.  Seven, Fox and Janson followed suit and jumped to the floor, though Seven tried not to take his eyes off the door.  Most of the people in the club would be wondering what happened.  Seven wasn’t among that number.  He knew what had happened.  The commandos had seen them running into the bar and blown open the front door as a distraction.  Seven swore.  By now they probably had the exits covered.  Seven might have just painted his people into a corner.

     After those first few confused and terrifying seconds, the crowd in the club began to get to their feet, scream and run for the front door.  Seven didn’t waste any time in starting his escape.  He hauled himself back to his feet and grabbed the bartender, who was covered in dust and shaking.  “Backdoor?  I need to use your backdoor!”

     The bartender looked at him, confused.  “What, now?  Look, I think you’re cute too, but this isn’t exactly the time or place…”

     Seven made a disgusted face.  “Backdoor to the bar!” he clarified.  “Where is it?!”

     “Oh,” the bartender said, a bit surprised and disappointed.  “It’s in the back.”  He pointed to a hallway off to the side.  Above the entrance to the hall was a plaque that said “Special Rooms.”  Seven didn’t even want to know.

     “Janson, grab Jen,” Seven commanded.  “Fox, cover our escape.  Follow me.”  Seven led them through the screaming crowd towards the hallway.  So far he hadn’t seen any of the commandos in the bar, which was both good news and bad news.  Good because it meant no one was currently shooting at him.  Bad because he knew they were all waiting outside.

    Seven tore down the hallway, Janson closely in tow, with Fox protecting their sixes—with good reason—and keeping an eye out for hostiles.  As they passed through the hallway, some of the doors were opening and patrons were emerging from the “Special Rooms,” most of them trying desperately to put their clothes back on and get to safety.  Emerging from one of the rooms was a Wookiee, an Ugnaught and a droid.  Seven didn’t even want to know, but it looked like the start of a bad joke.  As the Wookiee walked by, he stopped, let out a slow and seductive sounding rumble, and then let one of his paws run over Janson’s shoulders and down his arm before continuing through the club.

     Janson turned to Seven, a look of horror on his face.  “What did he say?”

     “My Wookiee ain’t good, but something about liking ‘a man in uniform…’”

     Janson and Seven shuddered and continued on.

     When he finally reached the back exit, Seven stopped and reached out with the Force.  No…no, they couldn’t go this way.  He was getting a major bad feeling from that door.  Nothing good could come from opening it. 

     “What?” Janson asked.  “What is it?”

     “They’re behind the door,” Seven said.  “We go through that door, we’re finished.  We need to go back through the front.”

     “You want to run towards the exploding objects?” Fox asked.

     Seven nodded.  “It’s our only chance.  Out there we’ll have the cover of the crowd, and probably some news people with holocams.  We’ll be too public for them to start attacking us.”

     “It wasn’t too public for them to try to blow us up,” Fox shot back.

     “They weren’t trying to blow us up,” Janson responded.

     “They weren’t?” Fox asked.

     “It was a diversion,” Seven finished.  “They wanted to draw us to the back, since they figure we won’t want to be seen by cameras.  They were banking on us not wanting to be seen on the news.  They were wrong.  We go out the front.”

     With that, Seven turned and led them back into the club, through the screaming mob and through the front door.   As he had expected, it was chaos out in front of the club.  It was a huge mob scene, with citizens screaming, medical personnel tending to the wounded and firemen putting out the small portion of The Blue Dice that was still ablaze.  And, as expected, holocams and news reporters were everywhere.

     Seven pushed his way through the crowd with his cohorts close behind.  He looked around as he moved, but no sign of any commandos in the area.  Likely, once they realized their plan had failed, they fell back.  But likely, that would only be temporary.

     They were almost out of the crowd when a hand grabbed his arm and pulled him around.  Seven just about reached for his lightsaber to counter attack his assailant when a microphone and camera were stuck in his face. 

     “Hello, this is Cynthia Torqueman from Insider’s Edge, your top choice for inside scoops on all the latest news,” a female reporter said to the camera, before turning to Seven.  “I’m standing outside the infamous male strip club, The Blue Dice, which was only moments ago the target of what could be Rebel terrorist activities.  Standing next to me is one of the lucky survivors from today’s vicious assault by Alliance forces, and he will in moments relate to us a firsthand account of what transpired.  What is your name, sir?  What happened in the attack?  How many Rebel terrorists did you see?”

     “Uhhh…”

     “Can you tell our audience anything?  Did you see or witness the bombing?”

     “Umm…”

      “And what exactly are you doing here with a tied up woman, an old Imperial pilot, and a…a strange looking alien?  That seems bizarre even for patrons of The Blue Dice.”

     “Err…no comment.” 

     Seven quickly turned and fled, checking behind him to make sure Fox and Janson had also made clean escapes from the evil Cynthia Torqueman.  Behind him he could hear her continue.

     “There you have it, folks…no comment.  Suspicious words from a suspicious man.  But there are still many unanswered questions.  Why would the Rebels bomb a popular male strip club?  Was this man one of the Rebels involved with the bombing?  Or was he just embarrassed to be caught here indulging in his bizarre sexual fantasies?  The galaxy may never know.”

     It took them a couple of minutes but they eventually pushed their way through the crowd and back into the streets.  Both Fox and Janson turned to Seven as they continued down the street.

     “So where to now?” Fox asked.

     “Liston’s place,” Janson said.

     “Not a chance,” Seven burst in.  “If they knew to find us at my ship, they’ll know to look for us at your place.  Or at least keep a guard posted in the area.  Your place isn’t even an option anymore.”

     “We don’t seem to have many options available to us,” Janson pointed out. 

     Seven thought about it for a moment.  They couldn’t go to his place, they couldn’t use Janson’s place.  Sneaking into an empty warehouse seemed like a bad idea, since it was likely they were still being tailed.  What they needed was a public place, but one that would have at least a little privacy.  Seven sighed.  He just didn’t know Coruscant well enough to know places to hide out.  For once he wished that Sky was around.  At least she had lived on Coruscant.  She would know her way around the streets, most likely.

     As it was, though, Sky wasn’t here.  And they really only had one option left to them at the moment.

     “We’re going to have to take her back to the set,” Seven said.

     “You realize she doesn’t have clearance to be on the set, right?” Fox pointed out.

     Seven nodded.  “Yeah.”

     “You realize if we get caught sneaking someone in we’ll be in big trouble, right?” Janson asked.

     Seven nodded.  “Yeah.”

     “But you have a plan?” Fox asked.

     Seven nodded.  “Yeah.

     “What is it?” Janson asked.

     “Don’t get caught.”

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

     Zhukov was cleaning out a rather disgusting pot when he heard his comlink beep once softly.  He checked around to make sure no one else in the kitchen heard.  Everyone was still focused and intent on their cleaning duties.  No one even cast a glance in Zhukov’s direction.  Satisfied that he had not called attention to himself, he slyly slipped away from the kitchen sink and out into the empty hallway.  Once there, he clicked a button on the comlink in response, so whoever sent the first message would know it was clear to talk.

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

     “Bravo One, Alpha Lead.  Report status.”

     “The Bar is in our possession, but the Drunks escaped with the Ewok.  We have a tail on them, but it’s too public to make a move.  Last report said they are heading your way.”

     “Copy, Bravo One.  Maintain your position around the Bar to cut off their escape.  Sigma and Alpha will deal with this situation.”

     “Copy, Alpha Lead.”

     Zhukov hesitated slightly before asking the next question.

     “Bravo One…casualties?”

     “Negative, Alpha Lead.  No casualties to report.”

     Zhukov let out a sigh of relief.  He had been worried for his men for the last few hours, ever since he had sent them out to ambush Sith Squadron.  Although he knew better than anyone else how well trained they were, that didn’t stop him from worrying.  It was their first test against actual Sith.  It was cause to worry.

     “Very well.  Your part is done for the moment.  It’s our job now.”

     “Copy, Alpha Lead.  Bravo One out.”   

     “Alpha Lead out.”

     Zhukov pocketed his comlink, but instead of returning to the kitchen he headed for the kitchen staff locker room.  He walked among the rows of lockers before he ran across the one belonging to him.  He keyed the lock code with a series of numbers and the door popped open.  Most people stored spare clothes, wallets or watches in their lockers.  Zhukov was not most people.   He reached into the locker and pulled out the small assortment of weapons he had on hand.  His hunting knife, his blaster with a silencer, and his small pocket holdout blaster.  He also grabbed his comlink, keyed it to a certain frequency, and clicked it once.  He waited until he heard three clicks in response.

     “Alpha Two, Sigma One and Two, this is Alpha Lead.  Over.”

     “Alpha Two, over.”

     “Sigma One, over.”

     “Sigma Two, over.”

     “Bravo, Delta and Gamma were unable to complete their mission objectives.  It falls upon us.  We will not move at them individually, only as a group.  They will not separate at this point, so no one attacks without back up.”

     “Lead, Sigma Two.  We will attack on the set?  In the open?”

     “Affirmative, Sigma Two.  The time for secrecy is over.  We move, and we move soon.”

     “Copy, Alpha Lead.” 

     “Return to your positions and be ready.  We attack on my command.”

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

     He was big.

     He was dumb.

     He was gullible.

     He was Seven’s only hope.

     “ID please,” the guard nonchalantly said, holding out his hand for their cards.  Seven, who had everyone’s card on hand, gave them to the portly guard.  He scanned them one at a time and handed each back to the person it belonged to.

     “Gar Brink…access granted.  Your card.  Colonel Ian Liston…access granted.  There you go, sir.  Ben Ring…huh…Ben Ring.  Almost like Binring, that biomedical company.  Isn’t that something?”

     Fox let out a nervous laugh.  “Yeah, what a coincidence.”

      “Well, anyway, access granted.  Your ID.  Now, I assume one of you is going to explain to me why Colonel Liston is carrying an unconscious woman who is tied up over his shoulders?”

     Seven glanced over at Janson, then back at the guard.  “Well, I was kind of hoping that you didn’t ask about that,” he told the guard.

     “You were hoping I didn’t ask about the unconscious woman hanging over your friend’s shoulder there?” the guard repeated, as if he didn’t believe what he was hearing.  “Are you stupid or just insane?”

     “I’ve been told a little of both, sir,” Seven said.  “But there is a good explanation for this.”

     “I hope so,” the guard replied.  “And the stormtroopers I’m about to call are going to love hearing it.”

     With that the guard started to go for the comm panel.  Seven was suddenly starting to doubt his “straight through the front door” approach. 

     “Wait wait!” Seven yelled, putting his hand over the guard’s comm.  “Just hear us out.  Okay, I’m sure you know Owen.  Executive Producer, star of the show, creator of life, blah blah?”

     “Ugh, yeah, I know him.  Insufferable man.  Glad I only have to spend a few seconds with him each day as he passes through.  That’s enough to make me want to shoot him, though.”

     “Yeah, you know Owen all right,” Seven said, trying his best to buddy up to the guard.  “Thing is…Owen makes a lot of demands.  His own dressing room, his own trailer, sandwiches with no crusts, only yellow candies…the whole lot.”

     “I’ve heard,” the guard grumbled.  “So what?”

     “Well, he’s started to make some…special…demands lately.  Stuff the studio agrees to, but not stuff you can really put in a contract.  One of them is that he wants female entertainment whenever he demands.  Now, that’s not a problem, but we can’t have these women knowing who Owen is, or where we’ve taken them.  So after they agree to the job, we drug them—with their permission—and take them onto the set.  By the time they wake up, they’re just in a room with a person they don’t know.  They do the, uhh…job…we drug them again, they wake up at home with a pocket full of money.  Everyone is happy, right?”

     “I guess…” 

     “But hey…things like this have to be done on the hush hush, and that means no records.  We can’t have a record of this woman coming through security now, can we?”

     “No…” 

     “Trotter and the bosses would be really upset.  That’s the kind of thing that could get a man fired.”

     “Fired?” 

    “Canned.  Axed.  Terminated.  And knowing Owen, he might demand that you’re actually executed for it.  He‘s a temperamental guy and the slightest thing can set him off.  I would hate to be the guy who set him off…wouldn‘t you?”

     “Yeah…”

     “Well, glad you see things my way,” Seven said.  “Trust me, keeping Owen happy will make everyone on the set happy.  You’ll be a hero if you just let us through.  Otherwise…Owen will be quite angry, and when Owen’s not happy…no one is happy.  I would hate it if everyone on the set hated me…wouldn’t you?”

     “Yeah…”

     “Then letting us through the gate is really the only option.  I’ll be happy, you’ll be happy, Owen will be happy…the galaxy will be happy.  And it will all be because of you.  Don’t you wanna be the guy who helped make the galaxy a better place?”

     “Sure I do!”

     “Then let us on through!”

     “Okay!”

     The portly—and stupid—guard opened up the gate and Seven and his group quickly hurried through.  Before leaving, though, Seven turned back to the guard.  “You might’ve just saved the galaxy, sir.  I salute you.”  With that, he saluted the guard—who was grinning like an idiot—then turned and headed for the set.

     Janson, still carrying Jen—who Seven had kept unconscious with a tranq shot from a medpac—over his shoulders, quickened his pace so he could walk side by side with Seven.  “That was your plan?!” he said as loudly as he could.

     “Yeah, why?”

     “That was arguably the stupidest thing I’ve ever seen in my life!”

     “The plan or the guard?” Seven asked back with a smirk.

     “Both.  What would you have done if he hadn’t been tricked by your second grade psychology?”

     “Honestly?”

     “Yeah, honestly.”

     Seven leaned in close to Janson as if to tell him a big secret and dramatically said,  “I have no idea.” 

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

     They quickly made their way through the set and Seven was relieved to see that they hadn’t resumed filming.  McCallous was still somewhere on set fuming about every little thing he saw as a problem, while Trotter groveled and begged him not to shut down production of the show.  Owen was somewhere being…well, Owen.  The rest of the cast was just hanging around the set, with one exception.  Seven still didn’t see Zak Tucker anywhere.  Although he personally had no opinion of the man playing Jace, he hoped he had escaped the bombing of The Blue Dice unharmed.

     As strange as it sounded, they didn’t get too many strange looks from the crew, even though they were carrying around a body, and to anybody that asked they merely said it was a lifelike dummy body for the big finale in act four.  No one cared enough to question him further about it.

     As they walked past the soundstages, they overheard many conversations.  Most were about Rick McCallous and his unfair behavior towards the show, though he did hear one conversation that managed to put a smile on his face.  It happened as they walked by the show’s writers, Mike D. and Tommy G.  Some grips carrying large pieces of the set had forced Seven and his group to stop and wait for a minute until they passed.

     “Okay, my turn again,” Tommy said. “This is a fish out of water type story, so to speak. The Siths come across a friendly alien who they take in and teach how to drink Whyren’s and all that. But just when they think they have a new best friend, he reveals that he is some higher being just trying to see what it’s like to be humanoid.”

     “Hey, good stuff.  Sold. You’re finally ditching that continuity crap and learning.  Plus it follows the KISS rule!” Mike exclaimed.

     “KISS?”

     “Keep It Simple, Stupid!” Mike said. “The audience will love that! We’ve all felt like that once in a while! When I drive through the ghetto in my brand new XP-38, I sometimes find myself thinking…’wow, I should pull over and spend the day with D-Dawg and B-Money, because I bet their way of life is interesting.”

     “Exactly!” Tommy agreed. “Your turn.”

     “Okay…aliens beam aboard the SSD—”

     “We can beam?”

     “Sure, why not.  Anyway, aliens beam aboard the SSD and knock out everyone on the bridge.  When they wake up, they find out that the aliens stole Reno’s brain, but they did it in a way that he’s still alive.  But…in 24 hours, if his brain isn’t returned, he’ll die.”

     “I like it!” Tommy said.  “But why did the aliens steal Reno’s brain?”

     “Does it matter?” Mike asked, a bit annoyed. 

     “I guess not.  Okay, sold.  Now I’ve got a two in one deal here for you,” Tommy said, nodding arrogantly. “A court episode! Ryvo is charged with some kind of crime, like peeing on some alien flowers or something, so they put him on trial! Reno says they have to let the aliens try him and execute him, because they can’t risk more lives by attempting a rescue! So Skate disobeys and goes back in time to get evidence to exonerate her lover!”

     “Wait,” Mike said, holding up a hand. “Why doesn’t Reno just use the SSD to level the planet until they release Ryvo?”

     “Because!” Tommy said. “Maybe it’s against the Sith Code to harm those weaker than you! I don’t know!”

     “If Skate can go back in time, why doesn’t she just stop the crime from happening?”

     “Well—”

     “You’ve got more plot holes in this than the Duperman comic!” Mike said. “But I like it! I see the plot holes, see? But the audience…won’t. Well, maybe some, but their voices will be so sparse they won’t matter. They’ll hit the HoloNet for a few weeks crying about it and then we won’t see them again. But this action and drama extravaganza will last the test of time!”

     “Can we put it on during sweeps?” Tommy asked.

     “Yeah,” Mike said, nodding. “You might even get your first Enny with it.”

     Seven was thrilled once the grips were done moving the set and were out of his way.  Another minute of listening to those two and he would’ve killed them.  Did they have any writing skill whatsoever?  Any creativity or talent?  Any common sense?  What kind of idiot would like any of those proposed episodes?

     “Man, they got some good stuff coming up this season!” Fox enthused as they continued on.  “I wish I was going to be around here to be a part of it.”

     Speaking of wanting to kill people…

     Seven lead them to the same lighting room that he and Janson had had their first conversation in (and boy did that seem like ages ago…what was it…an hour or two at the most?)  The room was still empty, and their entrance was well timed, as Jen was just beginning to stir.  They closed the door behind them, then plopped Jen down on a chair and waited for her to fully awaken.

     First her breathing picked up, her chest rising and falling quicker.  Then she started to absently move her upper body, struggling against the binders.  Then her eyes opened and immediately locked onto Seven, who was suddenly very much regretting having shot her.  The look in her eyes said more than words possibly could, but that didn’t stop her from trying.

     “When I get out of these,” she slowly said, still struggling with her binders.  “There will be no end to the pain and suffering you’ll feel.”

     “Nice to see you, too,” he said.

     Jen took a deep breath, then turned and glared at Fox, though she said nothing.  Then she glanced over at Janson and her demeanor completely changed and went from “pissed off” to “seductive.”  “Janson, dear…I’ve always wanted to be tied to a chair with you, I just never pictured that Seven and Fox would be around to watch.”

     No one really had any comment for that.

     “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” Jen asked, turning her attention back to Seven.

     “I’m asking the questions here,” Seven said sternly.  Talking in that manner wasn’t normal for him, but he had to do it.  He couldn’t let Jen see any weakness or nervousness in him.  He had to be strong.  She was the one being interrogated, after all, not him.  “So how long have you been working for Xanthis?  What was the price?” 

     “Xanthis?  I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

     “Let me refresh your memory, Bright Eyes,” he shot back, using the codename she had been calling Xanthis.  “I caught you making an unauthorized transmission to a person using a codename very suitable for our good buddy Xanthis.  You were scared when you saw us on the security cameras and told him that you were going to deal with us.  Luckily, you underestimated me.  But it makes sense…everything makes sense now.  Want to hear my theory on all this?”

     “I’m all ears,” she grumbled through her teeth.

     “Xanthis, still fuming over his recent losses to us, decides to spring another trap.  This time, he decides to create a holoshow about us in an attempt to lure us into the open.  He can’t just start a holoshow, though.  So instead of creating his own studio, he pitches the idea to Sacul Productions, knowing that they’ll buy any kind of crap idea.  He even offers to be a financial backer for the show.  Hey, Xanthis is wealthy…he can afford it.  Knowing that they won’t lose any money on the show if it’s a bust, and will gain if it’s a success, the studio agrees.  They bring on Owen and Trotter to act as the EP’s along with Xanthis, and Owen even gets the staring role, then they hire Mike and Tommy to write the thing.  They finish shooting the pilot ep, with a script based off Xanthis’s idea.  Hey, it ends up being a good pilot and does well in the ratings.  Who knew?  But despite the mild success, the studio wasn’t happy.  Sith Squadron was a very expensive pilot to shoot, and would be an expensive show to run.  They don’t know if they really have the capital to continue with such high expenditures.  They ask Xanthis for more money, he denies.  In response, Sacul Productions shows him that they have power over his show and begin to change everything about it.  They cut the budget, take away the storyline, and force its writers to write a bunch of crap.  Then they bring in Rick McCallous to oversee the show and make even more ludicrous changes and tell him to cancel the show the second they step out of line.”

     “What the hell does any of that have to do with me?” Jen asked.

     “You were the one Xanthis hired to set us up.  See, Xanthis doesn’t care about the show or if they sabotage it.  His plan was to lure Sith here, which it did.  However, he needed the show to continue long enough to trap us and maybe even draw more important Sith here.  So he hired you to sabotage us.  I noticed very early on that you were acting strange.  You were drunk, disagreeable, and belligerent.”

     “Seven, I’m always drunk, disagreeable, belligerent!”

     “That may be so,” he replied, “back on the SSD.  But not during missions.  I’ve been on missions with you before, and this isn’t your normal behavior.  I noticed it right away, I just couldn’t figure it out until I overheard your conversation with Xanthis.”

     “I wasn’t talking to Xanthis,” she muttered.

     “Who else would ‘Bright Eyes’ be?” Seven asked.

     “I can’t tell you that.”

     “Then we’re back to square one,” Seven said.  “You were caught making unauthorized transmissions, which was immediately followed by us being attacked.”

     “You were attacked?  By whom?”

     “Your new boss,” Seven said.  “Six commandos, very professional.  We escaped, but barely.  It certainly wasn‘t from a lack of effort on their part.”

     Jen took another deep breath.  “Look, Seven…listen carefully…I haven’t betrayed anyone.  I am not working for Xanthis.  But I cannot tell you who I was talking to, or why.  I’ll admit that I have been acting strange, but there is a reason for it.  I just…can’t tell you.  You’re just gonna hafta trust me on this.”

     “Trust you?”

     “Yes.”

     “I suppose you want me to unbind you, too?”

     “That would be preferable.  I’ll even promise not to kick your ass for shooting me.  Given the circumstances, I can understand why you did it.  You made the right choice.  It was a good judgment call.  It shows that you listened to my advice the other night about making quick decisions and dealing with the consequences later.  Now you need to make another one.  You can take what you have learned about me from the last few years…every time we‘ve drunk together and flown together, every time we‘ve had each other’s lives in our hands and weigh that against the whacked out conspiracy theory you’ve pieced together.  Take what you know about me and judge it against what you’re guessing about me.”

     Seven thought about what she was saying and was annoyed to find that she was right.  Although he was suspicious of her—highly suspicious, in a lot of ways—it just didn’t seem right.  It didn’t feel right.  He needed to trust his instincts on this one.  And although common sense said Jen was a traitor, his instincts were telling him otherwise.  Slowly, Seven dropped down and removed the binders on her, first the ones on her feet, then the ones on her hands.  He stood back up.

     Jen still sat in her chair, massaging her wrists where the binders had chaffed.  Suddenly, she lunged up at Seven and wrapped her arms around his throat.  “Why you little!” she screamed as she began to throttle him.  Although she was small compared to Janson, it took both the Rebel pilot and Fox to pry Jen off of Seven’s throat and try to force her back into her seat.

     “You said you wouldn’t kick my ass for shooting you!” Seven yelled.

     “I lied!”  Jen screamed back, jumping over Janson and Fox in an attempt to get back at Seven’s throat.  She was successful in her lunge and her hands were once again around Seven’s throat, even as Janson and Fox held her in the air.  Seven was about to reach for his blaster and stun her again when the door to the room suddenly opened.  All four people in the room froze in their very awkward position, unsure of what to do.  What if it was an enemy?  What if it was one of the commandos?  In their current position, they were rather vulnerable.  As Seven got a look at the man, though, almost all tension left his body.

     The person who walked into the room as the door slid open was Jason, Trotter’s assistant.  He looked around at the four people, then innocently asked, “What’s going on?”

      Seven turned and stared at the others in turn.  “Uhhh…rehearsing,” he lied, struggling to speak with Jen‘s hands around his throat.  Sensing his trouble, Jen’s grip loosened…slightly.

     Jason looked confused.  “In the lighting room?”

     “Yes, in the lighting room,” Seven responded, as if Jason’s question was stupid.  “Where else would we rehearse?”

     “I don’t know.  On the set?”

     “Psh!  Who rehearses on the set?!” Seven burst out, trying to be dramatic enough to scare Jason away.

     “They do,” he said, stepping aside.  Down on the other side of the set, visible even from the distant lighting room, were several of the cast members, scripts in hand, rehearsing their scenes.

     “Well, uh, of course they do.  Amateurs.  Rookies.  They never learn.”

     “Learn what?”

     “Uh, well, that the best place to rehearse your scenes is in the lighting room.”

     “Ah.  Why?”

     “Because…because…it has the best lighting.”

     Jason seemed to think about that for a minute.  “Oh.  Well, I guess that makes sense.”

     “Yes, yes it does,” Seven said quickly.  “Now was there something you needed?  My friends and I are very…entangled…in our current scene.”

     “Yeah, Trotter sent me around to find all the actors and tell them that there would be about another hour delay until filming resumes.  He and McCallous are having a meeting somewhere on the set and they don‘t want any disruptions.”

     “Is it a serious meeting?” Seven asked.

     “Everything with McCallous is serious,” Jason replied.  “Trotter was very serious about the ‘no disruptions’ thing, too.  McCallous is irate about that lightsaber incident.  Just another in the long list of problems he has with this show.  If anything else goes wrong, it might be the straw that breaks the camel’s back.  He could kill the show today, if something big goes wrong.”

     “Is that so…”

     “Yeah…so maybe you should leave the lighting room and practice a less…physical scene,” Jason said.  “Something that isn’t as loud.  You wouldn‘t want the show to get cancelled over something this stupid, would you?”

     Seven smiled the kind of smile that only an evil Sith with a plan can smile.  “No, not at all.  We’ll stop.”

     “Good.  Now, have any of you seen Zak Tucker?”

     Seven quickly thought back to Zak‘s strip dance under the name ‘Jace Sidrona,’ shuddered, and then nodded.  “A lot more of him than I ever wanted to see.”

     Jason looked at him quizzically, then turned and left.  The door shut behind him as he left.

     Okay, that was it.  That was the last time he was being embarrassed on this mission.  He wasn’t going to take it anymore.  It was time to get things done, and done quickly. 

     “Janson, put Jen down,” Seven said, his voice taking on an air of authority.  Surprisingly did as he was told, without complaint or even an annoyed face.  “Jen, don‘t attack me again.  Just shut up and listen to me.  Fox…sit.  Stay.  Good boy.”

     He waited until everyone had done as he had told them to, then continued.

     “Okay, Jen, you say that you’re still on our side, right?”

     She nodded.

     “And Janson, you’re willing to work with us on this?”

     He nodded.

     “And Fox, you’ll do whatever I say?”

     He nodded.

     “Good.  This is how it’s going down then.  Option One: We go out there, cause as much ruckus as we can, and hope that McCallous sees us and shuts the show down.  Easy, simple, probably fun, but it would draw too much attention to us.  Not something I want to do, if I can avoid it.  It’s one step better than leveling the place with the Seal Breaker.  Plus, with that plan, we won’t get the information that we need.”

     “Like what?” Fox asked.

     “Who is behind the show,” Seven replied.  “I still got my money on Xanthis, but that’s still just an educated guess at this point.  We need to find out who the creator and third EP is of this show.  Mindlessly destroying the set won’t accomplish that.”

     “Why do we need to find out who the creator is?” Janson asked.  “It’s enough to just shut it down.”

     Seven shook his head.  “Because our mystery creator is a security leak to both of our groups.  Someone leaked some serious info about us, and we need to find out who it is.  If we can find the creator, we can question him about his source in our group and shut it down.” 

     He didn’t add that in all likelihood, the creator itself could be a former Sith.

     “Fine,” Jen said.  “Fair enough plan.  We need to do it now, though. Don’t forget our orders.”

     Seven hadn’t forgot.  They were towards the end of their fifth day here.  They needed to be back before seven days.  If they finished their mission before the day ended, accounting for one day’s travel back to the SSD, they would arrive just in time for the Argolis mission.         

     “So how do we go about getting this information?” Fox asked.  “No one I’ve spoken to even knows who the creator of the show is.”

     “That’s because you’ve spent your time hanging out with the special effects nerds and the second unit crew.  You haven’t been around the right people.”

     “Hey, Roxann and Elizabeth are nice people,” he said in a defensive tone, naming the Special Effects Supervisor and Second Unit Director.

     “I’m sure they are,” Seven shot back, “but they’re not exactly in a position to know much.  No, I know where we need to go.  Three sources.  Owen, Trotter, McCallous.  They’re the only ones who know who the creator is.  I overheard Trotter and Owen talking about him before, though I didn’t get a whole name.  McCallous will know for sure, since he works directly for Sacul Productions.  We’ll have to get it out of one of them.  McCallous and Trotter are off in a meeting somewhere, so that means we have to go with Owen.”

     Questioning any of them was not a task that Seven particularly wanted to take on.  It wasn’t going to be fun, it wasn’t going to be pretty, and Seven was damn sure that it wasn’t going to be easy.  The rest of the group seemed to have that same feeling, too, judging by the expressions on their faces.

     “So what do we do?” Jen asked.  “Just wander on up and ask Owen to reveal his secrets?  You think he’s going to tell  ‘Gar Brink,’ ‘Bin Ring’ and…”

     “Ian Liston,” Janson said at Jen’s glance.

     “…Ian Liston” anything?”

     Seven shook his head.  “Nope. I don’t expect him to tell ‘Gar Brink,’ ‘Bin Ring’ or ‘Ian Liston’ anything we ask.”

     Jen’s eyes widened a bit.  “Then what are you going to do?  You can’t tell him who we really are.  Reno wouldn’t like that.  This is supposed to be a secret mission.”

     “And secret it shall remain,” he confidently boasted.

     Janson sighed and look down at the ground.  “You have a plan, huh?” he asked, his voice sounding almost regretful.  He no doubt still had vivid memories of Seven’s last few plans.  The speeder bike escape…the gay bar…sneaking onto the set…

     “Sure do.”

     Jen looked confused.  “What?  Why is that bad?”

     “If you’d been awake for his last few plans,” Janson said slowly, bringing his head up to look Jen in the eyes, “you’d be as scared as I am.”

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

     Her sleep was not peaceful.  Instead, it was full of dreams.  No, nightmares.  She dreamed of dying.  Of Seven returning to find out that he had lost both Palin and their unborn child.  She dreamt of him living his entire life alone.  Of growing old and dying without her.  Of living with nothing but sadness and despair.

     Palin slowly woke, feeling her eyelids blink slowly.  Each eyelid felt like they weighed a ton.  Nevertheless, she eventually forced herself to open them completely.  The bright lights of sickbay stung for a bit, but she adjusted rather quickly.

     She wasn’t alone in the med bay.  Star was there, though she wasn’t lying on a table like Palin was.  She was up and about, doing her doctor stuff.  Palin wondered how long Star had been awake, considering they had both been knocked out at the same time.

     Reno was also there, looking on as usual in his disapproving manner.  He certainly didn’t look happy, and Palin had a pretty good idea why.

     “Welcome back,” Reno said, though his tone wasn’t entirely warm or friendly.  “Good sleep?”

     She thought back to her dreams.

     “Not especially,” she grunted.

     “We haven’t exactly had the best time out here, either,” he said.  “He got away, you know.  Mosley.  We found you two quick enough and sounded the alarm, but he just got too much a head start.  He was probably stealing the shuttle minutes before we sounded the alarm.  Since he was on the bridge crew, he knew how to hack into the system and give himself clearance to leave.  He was out of here before we could even send a ship out to stop him.”

     Palin felt a slight pang of regret.  It was her fault.  She knew it.  If she had only told Reno, or Star, or anyone else about Mosley, they would’ve had him now.  Their spy would’ve been captured, their leak plugged.  But, because of her bravado, of her need to do things by herself, she had cost them.  Now Mosley—or whatever his real name was—was out there, and had loads of information on Sith Squadron and their activities.  And why?  Because she had been bored and wanted something to do.

     “Now I need to go and figure out exactly what Mosley accessed, and find out everyone he interviewed or talked to.  Hopefully this situation won’t be too bad.  But I want you to realize that this is not being taken lightly.  Your behavior led to the escape of someone who has a hell of a lot of incriminating evidence against us.  If that comes back to bite us in the ass, it’s going to be on your head.”

     Reno then turned and stormed out of sickbay.

     “What an ass,” she heard Star say, which brought a slight smile to her face.  “You okay?”

     Palin nodded.  “I think so.  What did he hit us with?”

     “Nerve agent.  Knock out gas, basically.  I wasn’t out that long, but you inhaled a lot more than I did.  Kept you out much longer.”

     Terror suddenly hit her.  “Is—”

     “The baby is fine, Palin,” Star assured her, resting a hand on her shoulder.  “It’s one of the first things I checked.  The little guy is doing just fine.”

     Palin nodded, letting that information soak in.  For a second, all her worst fears had come alive.  Something occurred to her that was worse than both her and the baby dying.  What if the baby had died and she had lived?  How would she explain that to Seven?  How could she?  How could she tell the father of her child that their baby had died before it was ever born, and only because Palin was too stubborn to get help in a dangerous situation?  Being forced to do something like that would probably kill both of them.

     “Palin…are you okay?” Star asked, leaning in.

     She nodded in response.  “Yeah, now.”

     “Thinking about Seven, huh?” she asked.

     “No,” Palin shot back.  “Don’t be ridiculous.  Why would I be thinking of him?”

     Star shrugged.  “Maybe because you’re carrying his baby?  Maybe because you just realized what you could’ve lost?  Maybe because you love him.  Take your pick.”

     “Love him?” Palin asked.  “Let’s not get carried away here.  I mean, I’ll admit that I miss the guy.  He’s handy to have around.  He’s someone to talk to.  But love him?  C’mon now, I think we’re going a little too far there.”

     Star gave her a curious glance.  “Are we?”

     “Hey now, don’t do that,” Palin said.  “That’s not fair.

     Star smiled.  “Isn’t it?”

     “Look, I don’t love him,” Palin shot back.  “I like him, sure.  We wouldn’t have gotten this far if I didn’t.  But love just seems a bit…extreme…a word.”

     “Uh huh,” Star said.  “Sounds to me like someone is afraid of commitment.”

     Palin let out a sharp laugh.  “Afraid of commitment?  Me?  Just because I said I don’t love Seven?”

     “Give me a break,” Star said, rolling her eyes.  “It is obvious to everyone…and I mean everyone…that you love Seven.  And hey, all kidding aside here, why wouldn’t you?  He’s a good looking kid.  He’s kind, he’s funny, and despite hanging around this crew for a while, he’s still innocent.  Sure he’s a little clumsy, but that’s something that grows on you until it becomes something of an endearing trait.  Most importantly, though, he loves you.  He would do anything for you.  What more do you want?  If you can’t admit that you love him, then I’m not sure there is much hope for you.”

     There was a long silence as Palin soaked in the little lecture Star had given her.  Did she love Seven?  She certainly had feelings for him…but love?  She didn’t even know if she had that in her. 

     “Look, I want you to go and get some rest,” Star said.  “Put this Mosley situation behind you for now.  It’s over and done with.  Let it go and relax.  Seven will be back in a couple days.  Until then…just think about what I said, okay?”

     Palin hopped off the table and nodded.  “Okay.”  

     As she walked back to her quarters, she thought of nothing but Star’s words.  Star was right, in a lot of ways.  Seven was always there for her.  He did love her.  She knew that he would never hurt her, never leave her.  Did she feel the same towards him, though?  Did she really love him as much as he loved her?

     By the time she fell asleep some time later that night, she still hadn’t decided.   

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

     Seven had to admit that Janson sure had a point.  He was right to be afraid about Seven’s next plan, mainly because it really wasn’t much of a plan.  Confront Owen, tell the truth about the situation, get the information, and scare him into getting the show shut down and not revealing the truth to anyone.  As plans went, it was simple, inelegant, and heavily prone to failure.

     He walked towards the main set, past the craft services table, where Zhukov and his kitchen staff were busy loading up the table with all kinds of delicious looking food.  It was then that Seven realized how long it had been since he’d eaten anything.  He wished he could stop for a quick sandwich…

     Owen was off on the far end of the docking bay set, characteristically swinging around his fake lightsaber in a way that would’ve gotten him killed in two seconds in a real duel.  What made it even sadder was how serious Owen looked while doing it.  He actually believed he was practicing real sword fighting.  Idiot.

     Several meters behind him, but off the set, was Jason.  He was sitting down with a clipboard in front of him, intently studying some papers.  Probably studying the scenes they would be shooting later today.  Good kid.

     Michael Hicks, their Seven, was also in the studio, though he was not on the docking bay set with Owen.  Instead, he was off in a corner and appeared to be hitting on one of the female actors in the group.  Ironically, it was Stephanie Gowan, their Palin.  Much like real life, she didn’t seem to be interested at all.

     The two Adams, both Craiger and Green (Ryvo and the voice of Narska, respectively) were off on the other side of the set in what appeared to be close conversation.  No way to know what they were talking about.

     They had already walked by Laura Cain (Sky) and Michelle Hale (Star) when they walked by the craft services table.  Neither had even given them a look as they strolled by.

     Mike and Tommy were also present, once again sitting down listing off one stupid pitch after another.  Seven didn’t catch much that was said, but did catch something from Tommy about a giant blob of goo who was from another dimension and needed to drain people’s energy so he could create an inter-dimensional portal and go back home.  Mike’s response of “sold!” came as no surprise to Seven.  Some people will buy any stupid idea.

     Seven took a deep breath, then looked behind him.  Jen was off to his right, her lightsaber back in her possession.  If he was going to intimidate Owen into giving information and then quitting the show, he would need Jen’s help.  Few people were as scary as Jen with a lightsaber.  He resolved to keep his eye on her, though.  Better to be safe than sorry.

     Janson, still in his Ian Liston disguise, was off to his left.  He had a blaster tucked into his Imperial uniform.  Janson was another wild card, but was one that Seven thought he could trust for now.  Seven sure didn’t like going into this situation with two wild cards as his help, but he really didn’t have much of a choice.  He needed their help.

     Okay, this was it.  They needed to grab Owen, take him back to a quiet place, and get this over with, all the while drawing no attention. 

     No problem.

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

     Zhukov watched as Seven walked by, with Wes Janson and Jen—the real Jen—in tow.  Where the little fur ball kid was, he didn’t know.  Nor did he care.  He was the weakest link in the group and would be the easiest to eliminate, especially once his companions were dead.  He was of no worry at the moment.  Seven’s direction seemed to indicate that he was headed for Owen.  That was not good.  Owen was one of the few people on the set who could identify the creator of the show, which was no doubt why they were headed towards him.  Seven had probably gotten tired of the running and waiting.  They were going directly to the source.  If he didn’t act now, they would grab Owen and the pompous actor would reveal everything he knew.  That would include information that could incriminate Zhukov and his men.  He would have to act now. 

     He supposed he could act now.  He could just jump out from the table and try to blast the trio, he supposed.  That, however, did not seem like a good plan.  He could get Janson for sure, but the chances of him being able to surprise two, or even one, of the Sith was almost nil.  His life would be forfeit.  That was definitely not a good plan.  Luckily for him, though, he had three others on the set working with him.  They were unknowns who could spring on the trio any time Zhukov gave the order.  They were all currently on set, and at his command they would fire at their targets.  Zhukov looked around and when he was sure he was clear, he grabbed his comlink.

     “Alpha Two…marks are coming your way.  Target Drunk Two.  Shoot on my mark.”

     “Lead, Two.  Copy that.”

     “Sigma One…Target Drunk One.  Shoot on my mark.”

     “Lead, One…Copy that.”

     “Sigma Two…Target Ewok One.  Shoot on my mark.”

     “Lead, Two…Copy that.”

     Zhukov smiled.  In seconds it would be all over, and hopefully with no losses to his people.  Their targets would be dead, and his first mission would be complete.  His new employer would be very happy.  Zhukov might even get a bonus. 

     He forced himself to put his attention on the moment.  This was too important to blow because of daydreaming.  Seven had reached Owen now.  They were talking.  It was time to act.  In seconds, this should be over.  He keyed the comlink again.

     “Alpha Two…wait for it…hold…hold…ready…”

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

     “Owen, a moment of your time,” Seven said, while approaching the man dressed up as his real life leader.

     Owen turned and stared at him as if he was crazy.  “Are you talking to me?  You don’t just approach someone like me and ask for my time.  Consult my agent and he might be able to work you in sometime next week.”  Owen then returned to his lightsaber swinging, looking something like a kid playing with a toy lightsaber.

     Seven reached out and tapped the man on the shoulder.  Owen turned around again, his eyes nearly bulging out of their sockets.  Before he could say anything, though, Seven spoke.

     “Look, Owen, I really need just a moment of your time.  This is incredibly important.  Life or death important.”

     “I don’t care about life or death!” Owen spat.  “I have training to do.”

     Ugh, this isn’t working!

     He needed to be trickier than this.  He needed to be more devious. Seven grinned inwardly.  “Fine.  I’ll go tell Ms. Torqueman to come back some time later.”

     As Seven turned to leave, Owen reached out and grabbed him by the shoulder.  “Did you say Torqueman?  Cynthia Torqueman, from Insider’s Edge?”

     Seven smiled, outwardly this time.  Actors.  So easy to manipulate.  Just appeal to their vanity…

     “Yes, that’s her.  She wanted to interview you about the success of the pilot episode of Sith Squadron, and how your career is about to skyrocket.  But I’ll go and tell her that you’re busy—”

     “Hey hey!” Owen interrupted.  “Let’s not be hasty now.  You didn’t tell me it was for an interview.  That changes everything.  Insider’s Edge is a very popular show.  Lots of women sixteen to thirty-five watch that show.  Demographics show that’s my strongest audience.”

     Seven gave him a patronizing grin.  “I’m sure it is.  Well, if you’ll just follow me…”

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

     “…fire.”

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

     DUCK!  MUST DUCK!

     Seven was suddenly overwhelmed with an urge to duck, dodge, or do anything to get out of the way.  Someone was about to attack.  He could feel it.  He just didn’t know from where.  He looked around frantically, as time seemed to slow. 

     Then he saw him.

     Rising from his crouching position, throwing his clipboard to the ground was Jason.  In his hand, replacing the clipboard was a blaster, aimed directly at Seven.  With Owen still standing in front of Seven, he couldn’t even take his lightsaber out and try to deflect the bolt.  Nor was he a quick enough draw to try and take down Jason before he could shoot.  He was just going to have to have faith in his back up. 

     Jen, he saw out of the corner of his eye, was focused on someone else.  Jason apparently wasn’t the only threat on the set.  Janson, likewise, was focused on yet another attacker.  Neither of them could help Seven with Jason.  He didn’t need their help, though.  He was banking on someone else.

     The first blaster shot rang out, alarming everyone on the set who wasn’t expecting it.  It didn’t come from Jason, though.  The shot came from behind Seven, coming so close to him that he felt the heat singing his hair.  The blast hit Jason straight in the chest and knocked him off his feet and into the wall behind him.  Seven had no doubt that the kid was dead.  If he wasn’t, then he was doing an excellent job of faking it.  Seven turned quickly and located Fox, who was standing behind the craft services table with a smoking blaster in hand.  That was quite a tricky shot he had just pulled off.  If they survived this, Seven would have to put him in for some kind of marksman award. Or a Foxysnack at the least.

     All hell broke loose and soon the set was full of blaster fire.  Actors and crew alike were diving for cover, as were the ones doing the shooting.

     With Jason dealt with, Seven had the time to look at their other attackers.  The person Jen had focused on was Laura Cain, who was firing mercilessly at Seven and his crew.  On the other side of the set, Janson was trying his best to do away with Adam Craiger.  The man playing Ryvo Lorell was busy firing away at them with what looked like a stormtrooper-issue blaster rifle.  

     That’s it, he thought to himself.  Just two?  Not a problem…

     But there was more to it than that.  He was going to have to protect Owen, who was currently face down on the ground face crying.  However, while Craiger and Cain had them caught in their crossfire, at least Fox was still—

     Seven turned to look for Fox, but he didn’t see the furry little alien anywhere.  What had happened to him?  He had been at craft services just a second ago…

     Didn’t matter.  He could look for Fox later.  They had to deal with Craiger and Cain first.  Seven cast a glance at Jen, who more or less read his mind and nodded.  As one, they activated their lightsabers and jumped up.  Seven deflected the bolts coming from Craiger, while Jen blocked the ones aimed at them from Cain.  Deflecting blaster bolts was child’s play by now for Seven, having spent so much time doing it over the last two years.  For Jen, who had many years over him, it was even easier.  With the two Sith deflecting every shot sent their way, Wes Janson had no problem picking off their two assailants.  In a matter of moments, Craiger and Cain joined Jason and the set was once again quiet.

     Seven looked around for Fox quickly, but still couldn’t find him.  Damn.  He didn’t have the time to search for him, though.  Their timetable had just been pushed up again.  Seven reached down, grabbed Owen by the shoulders, and hoisted him to his feet.  The arrogant actor was still crying his eyes out like a baby.  Some Sith Lord.  Regardless of which, with Janson’s help, they dragged Owen off the docking bay set and back into the lighting room. 

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

     Mike and Tommy still sat, not having moved once during the entire shootout.  Nor did they look fazed at all.  They merely regarded the situation with the casualness one would use while watching birds feed on crumbs of bread.

     “That was an unexpected swerve,” Tommy remarked.

     “Swerves are good,” Mike responded.

     “Well, the actors who play Ryvo and Sky are dead.  Do we have to find a way to write them out of the show now?” Tommy asked.

     “Nah,” Mike said back.  “We just won’t mention them again.  No one will even notice they’re gone.  It worked with Rick, remember?”

     “Oh yeah.”

     There was a brief silence.

     “Shoot, there goes my story about Ryvo pissing on the flowers.  That had Enny written all over it.”
     “Such is life in holoshows.”

     Another silence.

     “Grab a sandwich?” Tommy asked.

     “Sure.”

     They got up and headed towards craft services, stepping over a couple bodies as they did. 

     “Okay, got one for you,” Tommy started.  “Sith Squadron runs across a planet run by males, and Jen or Thunder has to prove that a woman can make it in a male dominated society and she saves the day in the end.”

     Mike hissed. “My god, that’s so clichéd…I love it!  Sold!”

     “Another I have—“

     “Hey, my turn,” Mike cut him off.

     “Shoot.”

     Mike nodded. “Baron Reno must use several of his own Siths as pawns while lying and hiding information from them in a plot to get the Rebels to join their side against TOS. At least one Sith dies, as do several other relatively innocent people, and Reno must deal with the moral ramifications of the decisions he made on that dark day. It could be told from him directly to the audience via a log, like it had already happened.”

     Tommy stopped in his tracks and looked over at his fellow writer.

     “Naaaaaah,” both of them said, continuing on to the crafts services table.

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

     Once they were inside the lighting room and made sure it was secure, Seven looked up at Jen and Janson.  “Let me deal with him,” he said softly.  “I know him better than you two.  I can do this.”  They nodded and backed off a bit.  Owen looked up and met Seven’s eyes.

     “Is…is…is it over?” he babbled.

     “Yeah, for now,” Seven replied.  “But more will come.”

     “I…I can’t believe it.  Someone tried to assassinate me.  Why?  I’m so loveable.  Who would want to kill me?”

     Seven cast a glance at Janson and Jen, who both rolled their eyes.  Actors.  So arrogant that they can’t look past themselves.

     “Owen, look at me.  Look at me.”  The actor did as he was told and looked at Seven.  “This had nothing to do with you.”

     “Nothing to do with me?” Owen interrupted, as if not believing what he was hearing.  “I don’t understand.  But we have to go…Ms. Torqueman is still waiting.”

     Seven rolled his eyes and sighed.  Geez, still thinking of interviews.  He was far more annoying than the real Reno.  He was just going to have to play along with Owen and give into his delusions.  “Okay, we lied about that.  Cynthia Torqueman isn’t here.  We just wanted to get you off that set because we knew there was going to be an attempt on your life.  Remember, at first I said it was a matter of life or death.  We knew they would be coming after you then.”

     “So they were after me?”

     Seven nodded.  “Yes, who else would they go after?  You’re the only person on this show important enough to target.  You’re just lucky we were here to protect you.  But now we‘re going to need some information from you.  Only with your help can we figure out who tried to assassinate you.”

     Owen nodded distractedly.  “Yes, yes, of course.  But wait, who are you?  You aren’t actors, are you?”

     “No, we’re not,” Seven said.  “We work with Imperial Intelligence.  Our job is to protect, uh…super VIP’s, such as yourself.  For security reasons, we of course cannot divulge our true names.”

     “Of course, of course,” Owen said, accepting his answer.  “I’ll tell you what I can.  Anything to nail the bastards who tried to take shots at me!”

     “Uh, yeah.  Anyway, we believe that this might’ve been an inside job—”

     “It was Trotter, huh?!  He’s always had it out for me…”

      “No, no, it wasn’t Trotter.  Just listen, please.  Don’t interrupt.  It’s no secret among the intelligence circles that Sacul Productions is trying to sabotage the show, hence the presence of Rick McCallous.  What we need to know is why Sacul Productions would sabotage their own show, and most importantly, who the creator of Sith Squadron is.”

     Suddenly, Owen didn’t look so eager to cooperate.  What was it about the creator that brought about such instant fear to people, or at least a reluctance to talk about him.

     “Owen, this is very important.  We need to know this information if we are to keep you alive.”

      Owen nodded.  “I understand.  Okay, you are right.  Sacul Productions is trying to sabotage the show.  They way I understand it, the creator of the show is the guy who financed this project.  He put all of his own money into it, including paying off the top guys at Sacul to get the show produced.  Sacul Productions never had any intention of keeping the show around, though.  They just wanted the money that he was giving them.  And since he was financing everything himself, they really had nothing to lose.  Once the pilot was a success, they tried to keep it around, but only if the guy would keep financing it himself and keep paying them off.  He said no, and told them that if they just cancelled the show, he would bring their backdoor deal to the public.  So what Sacul’s people did was get McCallous to run the show into the ground and create legitimate reasons to get the show cancelled.”

     Seven nodded.  That was pretty much what he had pieced together by himself.  He was actually happy to note that he had basically solved the mystery himself.  He was still missing one very crucial piece of evidence.

     “His name, Owen,” Seven said sternly.  “We need to know the creator’s name.”

     Owen hesitated, but eventually answered.  “Look, it’s in my contract that I’m not supposed to say this guy’s name to anyone.  He’s very secretive.  If word gets out that I leaked anything…”

     “I’m sure that doesn’t include Imperial Intelligence, Owen,” Seven said.  “Trust us, this won’t get out.  And what’s more important, a contract or your life?”

     “Well, a contract is a contract is a contract,” Owen said.

     “Owen, damn you…listen.  We think the creator of the show is the one who hired the assassins to kill you.”

     “What?” Owen asked, not believing what he was hearing.  “Why?”

     Why?  Why?  Good question.  At this point, Seven was just pulling stuff out of his ass as fast as he could and trying to make it sound convincing.  Why would the creator of the show want him dead?  If anyone wanted to kill him, it would be the guys at Sacul Productions who wanted the show stopped.  Unless…for some reason they liked Owen’s acting and wanted to use him in future projects.  Far-fetched, but Owen would fall for it.

     “The creator is jealous,” Seven told him.  “He knows that his show is being sabotaged, but that Sacul Productions is very high on you as an actor.  They love you, and want to use you in a lot of their future projects.  Your star is on the rise.  As an act of spite and vengeance, the creator wants you taken out.  It’s an eye for an eye, Owen.  Sacul Productions kills his baby, so he kills theirs.  Understand?”

     Boy did Seven hope this would work.  He didn’t think he had ever strung such a string of lies together before in all of his life.  Nothing but one incredulous lie after another.  Owen, though…good old conceited, gullible, self-serving Owen.  He believed every word.

     “I met him once,” Owen said.  “His name is Xavier.  Pronounced like ZHA-vee-ay.  He hates it when you say it like ex-AY-veer.”

     Seven exchanged glances with Jen, who shook her head and shrugged.  Neither of them had ever run across anyone named Xavier before, which meant he was either a new card in the deck, or an old card using a different face value.  It still fit with Xanthis, and that was still who Seven’s money was on.

     “Describe him,” Seven said.  “We have a suspect, and your ID of him could put him away.  Is he tall?  Long black hair?  Evil look on his face?  No eyeballs?”

     “What?!” Owen erupted.  “God, no.  He was nothing like that.  Young, very young.  Probably not even out of his teens yet.  But he was still very well off, dressed in a fancy suit.  Had a shaved head and looked quite menacing. He certainly had eyeballs, though.  I remember them quite clearly.  Cold, striking blue color.  Terrifying young lad.  He was the man who created the show.  Do you really think he‘s after me?  I would hate for him to be after me.”

     “I’m sure you’re safe now,” Seven said.  Especially since no one was gunning for you in the first place…  “What we need from you now is to stay here, though.  Stay in this closet and don’t come out.  There could be more out there right now, and we need to protect you.  Just stay in there and don’t come out.  Understand?”

     “Yes, I do,” Owen said.

     “Good.”  Seven turned and motioned for Jen and Janson to follow.  They left the lighting room and closed the door, shutting Owen inside.  Once outside, Janson turned to look at Jen and Seven.

     “Who the hell is Xavier?”

     “No idea,” Seven said.

     “He doesn’t sound like anyone I’ve come across, and I certainly don’t know the name.  Doesn‘t sound like Xanthis, though, does it?”

     Seven shook his head.  “No, it doesn’t,” he said, for the first time admitting that his Xanthis theory wasn’t panning out.

     “So what happened to Fox anyway?” Jen asked.

     “Don’t know,” Seven said softly.  “Last I saw he was standing near craft services and picked off Jason.  Next time I looked for him, he was gone.  No sign.” 

     “You think someone grabbed him?”

     Seven nodded.  “That’s my guess.”

     “We still have hostiles on the set?” Janson asked.

     Seven nodded.  “That’s my guess.”

     “So what do we do now?” Jen asked.

     Seven unclipped his lightsaber.  “We go hunting.”

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

     Zhukov stormed down the hall, a blaster in one hand and Fox in the other.  He was dragging the unconscious alien around by the scruff on his neck, like a mother would her cub.  Zhukov was no mother, though, and Fox was far from being his cub.

     When he reached his destination, a small room used for meetings, he threw Fox into a wall and grabbed his comlink.  He didn’t have much time now.  The attack had failed, and stormtroopers had no doubt been called.  They would be here shortly.  He was going to have to act quickly.

     “Bravo One, report in,” he barked into the comlink, not bothering to hide his anger.

     “This is Bravo One.  What’s wrong, Lead?”

     “The attack here has failed,” he grumbled.  “Drunks One and Two are still active, along with Ewok One.  I have Drunk Three in custody, still alive.  Alpha Two and both Sigma’s are dead.  I need backup at the studio.  Now.  Bring everyone.”

     “Lead, that would leave their ship unguarded.”

     “They mopped the floor with the four of us, Bravo One!” Zhukov yelled. “If you bring anything less than six, don’t bother coming at all.  We are now Status: Omega.  You know the drill.”

     “Copy, Lead.  What about Drunk Three?”

     Zhukov glanced down at the fallen Sith. 

     “He’s my insurance.”

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

     It was not hard to track down Fox, even though many minutes had passed since the battle.  Everyone that was Force-sensitive had their own imprint on the Force.  They each had their own signature feel.  Jen’s presence wouldn’t feel like Fox’s, nor would Fox’s feel like Seven’s.  That made tracking the presence of an individual much easier, at least at close ranges.  The fact that Seven could feel Fox’s presence at all was a blessing.  It meant that not only was he close, but that he was still alive.

     Seven, however, felt that they were really going around in circles.  He still didn’t know the studio too well, and he swore that he had walked past some of the sets many times over.  Or maybe most of the sets just looked exactly the same…either way, it was confusing.

     So confusing that within minutes, they were once again back on the docking bay set where the initial assault had happened.  It was still empty.  The stormtroopers that had no doubt been called had yet to arrive.  That wouldn’t last long.

     “Great job,” Janson muttered sardonically.  “So much for the Force…”

     “Shut up,” Seven said, but not in a defensive tone.  He needed silence.  Something was different.  Something wasn’t right.  Something was wrong.

      “I can’t believe I have to spend my time looking for Fox,” Jen complained, while walking onto the set.  She leaned up against the docking bay door.  “This bites.”  Seven smiled inwardly as he remembered the rather humorous scene a couple days ago when the door didn’t explode, and the stormtroopers ran into the door and shook the set—

     Oh no!  He turned towards Jen.

     “Jen, get away from the—”

     BOOM!

     The squib attached to the door exploded, sending Jen flying a couple meters forward.  Though not a real explosion, it was powerful and deadly enough at point blank range.  Her lightsaber flew off her belt and slide across the stage.  They were given no time to recuperate, as blaster fire suddenly began to rain down on them.  Seven ducked and rolled out of the way, eventually taking refuge behind one of the flats.  It would offer him no real protection, but at least his assailant wouldn’t be able to see him.  Jen and Janson likewise sought refuge among the pieces of the set, though Seven noticed instantly that Jen no longer had her lightsaber, nor was it visible anywhere on the floor.  Where did it go?

     Seven poked his head out and looked around.  He still didn’t see anyone.  Who the hell was it that was shooting at them? 

     “Seven!” a voice cried out.  A strangely familiar voice.  “Come out, Sith.  I vow not to shoot you.  I have a request.  Agree to it, and your friend does not die.”

     Seven sighed.  He really didn’t have much of a choice in this matter.  He gripped his lightsaber tight.  Whatever it was, whoever it was, he could deal with it.  He was sure of it.  Taking a deep breath, Seven stepped out from around the set he was hiding behind and came face to face with his assailant.

     “Zhukov?” he asked, surprised.  The cook was standing about ten meters away from Seven, a blaster in one hand, Jen’s lightsaber in the other hand.  The lightsaber was activated, its purple glow radiating off of anything near it.  If front of Zhukov, sitting on his knees, was Fox.  He was bound and gagged.  If Zhukov wanted, he could eliminate the Sith with ease.  All it would take was one twitch of the finger or one swipe of his hand, and neither Seven, Jen or Janson could stop him.  Why hadn’t he?

     “It’s me,” he said, losing what Seven now realized was a fake accent. 

     “You’re behind this all?”

     “Not all of it,” he said.  “I am just a cog in the machine.  We all have our bosses, our superiors.  We all take orders from someone.”

     “And who do you take yours from?” Seven asked, not actually expecting him to answer.

     “You know better than that,” Zhukov said back, a hint of mocking in his voice.

     Seven put that aside for the moment.  It didn’t matter.  “You mentioned a proposition.  Speak.”

     “Without going into details, my mission here is over.  We cannot complete the objectives we set out to meet.”

     “You mean kill us?” Seven asked.

     “Killing you was certainly an objective, but there were others.  If that was all there was to it, we would not be standing here now.  The little fur ball would’ve been long dead, with the rest of you next in line.  No, killing you is not what I want now.”

     “What do you want?” Seven asked.

     “To live, of course,” Zhukov responded.  “I imagine that’s what you want for your friend here.  If you attack, I will die, and so will he.  I might even be able to pick you off before I go.  That, however, is two or three more bodies on the floor.  This floor is already crowded enough.” 

     Zhukov motioned with the lightsaber to point to his three fallen comrades: Jason, Craiger and Cain.   

     “It needs no more bodies,” he finished.  “What I propose is a life for a life.  My life for Fox’s.  You allow me to leave, I allow him to live.  It’s very simple.”

     Not so simple for a Sith, Seven thought.  He knew that as a Sith, he should just shoot Zhukov and if Fox survived then that was a bonus…but he just couldn’t do it.  That wasn’t him.  He couldn’t sacrifice Fox’s life like that.  Reno could’ve.  Jace could’ve.  Maybe even some of the others.  But he couldn’t.  He had acted callous before with no regard for human life and it had turned him into something that he didn’t like.  He had killed in cold blood.  He had wondered earlier whether that was really his true self coming out.  He realized now that it wasn’t true.  He wasn’t a murderer.  He wasn’t a killer.  And he couldn’t sacrifice Fox’s life.

     “Deal,” he said.  “And give back the lightsaber.  It’s not a toy, ya know.”

     Zhukov let out a small grin.  “It is a fascinating weapon, though.  Very well.”

     Just as he was about to turn off the lightsaber and put it down, the doors to the set opened and two people walked through.  As was usual for these two people, they were arguing, and not very quietly, either.  Well, not so much an argument.  It was more one person yelling, while the other apologized profusely.

     “I kriffing told you to keep it quiet in here!” Rick McCallous yelled as he burst into the room.  “Is that so much to kriffing ask?!  Can’t you even keep your kriffing people in line, Trotter?”

     “I’m sorry, Mr. McCallous, I told them, I did!”

     “You are so kriffing useless.”  McCallous then for the first time saw the set he had walked on to.  The set was full of blaster holes, scorch marks, and had several dead bodies lying around.  Then he turned and saw the people still alive, two with activated lightsabers, two more with blasters, and one alien tied up.  “What the kriff is going on here?  Trotter, why the hell does it look like the cook is about to duel with Xanthis?  And why the kriff does the cook have a purple lightsaber?  He doesn’t look like a bad ass, so he must be…and why the hell does Xanthis still have a kriffing green lightsaber?!  This is just un-kriffing-acceptable!  I told you!  I told you to get him a red lightsaber!  Can’t you do even the most simple of things?!  No, you can’t!  And why?  Because you are a moron!  A big, stupid, kriffing moron!  And not just that, but you are now a big, stupid, kriffing moron who is out of a job!”

     “WHAT?!” Trotter burst out.

     “You heard me!” McCallous screamed back at him.  “You are through!  Sith Squadron is through!  The behavior of the people on this set is just unacceptable!  I have never seen a worse behaved cast or crew in my entire life!  It’s over!  You’re done!  I’m calling Jorg Sacul and canceling this thing right now!”

     With that he whipped out his comlink and started to stride off the set.  He punched in a code and began talking “Hi, Jorg!  Yeah, this Sith Squadron thing is toast.  Cancel it right now.  Put a lightsaber through her, she’s done.  Yeah, I’m glad to.  What a horrible show.  Anyway, I was thinking…Jar Jar Binks Comedy Variety Hour!  Whaddya think?  It’ll be just like the Honey and Bear Show…only funny!  Yeah, I thought it was gold, too!  All right, see you tomorrow at noon, we’ll do lunch at the Ranch…”

     With those final words, Rick McCallous vanished off the set. 

     Something on Zhukov beeped and the man reached down and grabbed his own comlink.

     “Alpha Lead, this is Bravo One.  We’re in position.  Ready for extraction.”

     “Copy, Bravo One.  Out in a minute.”  Zhukov deactivated the lightsaber and tossed it to the ground.  “This is my cue to leave.  I suppose that one day I shall see you again.  Perhaps under better circumstances.  Most likely not, though.”

     He turned and fled and was out the door without saying another word.

     Seven turned to leave, but before he could say anything, someone grabbed him and turned him back around.

     “You have ruined me!” Trotter yelled at him.  “This was my big break!  I finally got a chance to direct a high profile sci-fi show and you screwed it up!  You’re never going to work on this planet again, any of you!  I’ll see to it if it’s the last thing I do!  I hate you!  I hate all of you!  I even hate you, girl, and I don’t even know you!”

     Trotter then dropped to his knees and began to cry.  Seven looked down at him and felt a pang of pity.  He wasn’t exactly the biggest fan of Trotter, but he hated to leave the guy like this.  He wasn’t an evil man, just…intense.  And Seven had kind of cost him his show…

     “Hey, Trotter, I have an idea…” Seven said.

     “What?” Trotter asked, looking up and wiping the tears out of his eyes. 

     “A pitch for a new show, to make up for causing you this trouble.”

     “Go ahead,” Trotter said, curious.

     “Another fighter squadron story, but not Force-sensitive pilots this time.  Instead, it’s a motley group of New Republic fighters, consisting of only aliens.  No humans.  Like one Rodian, a Gamorrean, a Twi’lek, an Ewok, and so on…everyone loves crazy, wacky aliens, right?  And every week they could have wacky, crazy adventures and make fun of stupid humans.  And hey, since it’s so pro-alien, you’re bound to get a lot of really positive press from all the alien rights groups.  It’s a public relations dream.  Every studio you pitch to will want to buy it.  You can make them have a bidding war.  You’ll be rich, Trotter, rich…”

     “It’s so…simple.  Yet at the same time…revolutionary.  Far ahead of its time!  But this concept of an all alien squadron…it’s so…so…odd.”

     “Yes, that’s it exactly!” Seven exclaimed.  “ODD Squadron!  ODD Squad!  Think of the catchphrase and merchandise potential with that name!  This is a can’t-miss idea, baby!”

     “I…I need to get started on this right away,” Trotter said, getting to his feet.  “There’s so much work to do before I can even make a pitch for this.  Thanks, Gar.  In one day you both ruined and saved my life.”

     “Yeah, I have a knack for doing that,” Seven commented.  “Though usually not in terms of the latter.”

     Trotter then ran off the set, leaving only Seven, Jen, Fox and Janson.

     “Well, it seems my job here is done,” Janson said.  “I’d better get off to my rendezvous point and get off planet as quickly as possible.  It was…enlightening, working with you Seven.  An experience I’ll never forget, no matter how hard I try.”

     Jen started to pout.  “Aw, c’mon, Janson…do you have to leave so soon?  It’s been ages since I’ve seen you.  I’m sure I could think of a couple jobs for you to do, if you wanna stick around for a bit…”

     Janson smiled nervously.  “Um, yeah, thanks for the offer, but, uh…yoink!” 

     With those words, Janson broke into a sprint and tore out of the door.

     “Stormies should be here any minute,” Seven said, surprised that they actually weren’t there yet.  “We need to get back to the Seal Breaker.”   

     “What about this Xavier?” Jen asked.

     Seven shook his head.  “I suppose we’ll meet him eventually.  Nothing we can do now, though.  We’re out of time here.  Besides, our mission was to stop the show.  It’s been stopped.  We defeated our enemy, and we’re all still alive.  Let’s go home now.”

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

     It didn’t take long for them to fix the damage on the Seal Breaker caused when Seven shot Jen into the blinking light units earlier that day.  During the entire job, they were not attacked once.  Seven hadn’t expected them to be.  Zhukov seemed like someone who was a man of his word, even if he had questionable loyalties.  They would not see him again…at least for a while.

     Once they finished repairs, they wasted no time in leaving the planet.  Stormtroopers had arrived at the studio minutes after they had left.  No one had identified anyone in Seven’s group, but he didn’t want to take chances and be stuck on the planet.

     News reports he saw on the trip back confirmed that due to the attack on the show, and other problems, Sith Squadron had officially been cancelled.  None of the episodes already filmed would air.  Sith Squadron—the real Sith Squadron—was in the clear.

     They were in hyperspace by the end of the fifth day, a whole day ahead of schedule.

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

     Rick McCallous walked into the office and again marveled at its beauty.  Columns and pillars made out of marble, fountains off to the side to make a relaxing water sound, and one hell of a security detail out in the front to stare at.  What a job.

     Sadly, the office did not belong to him.  Nor did it belong to his “boss,” Jorg Sacul, head of Sacul Productions.  Instead it belonged to his real boss.  It belonged to the man who was paying him a hell of a lot more money than Sacul could even dream of.

     The room looked empty, but McCallous knew better.  The chair behind the desk was turned away from him, towards the extremely large window that gave an amazing view of the Coruscant cityscape.  That’s where he was sitting.

     “You have a report?” he heard from behind the chair, startling him for some reason.  He knew the person was there.  Why did he jump?  Nerves, he supposed. 

     “Yes, my lord,” McCallous said.  “The mission was a failure.  All three Sith who arrived left the planet about an hour ago.”

     “The commandos?”

     “Three dead, though Zhukov still lives.  Although they failed, please do keep in mind that it was their first mission against Sith.  They handled themselves admirably.  They were merely…overconfident.  It happens when you are as good as them.  Rest assured, it won’t happen again.  They will be ready next time.”

     “Yes, they will be.  What of the show?”

     “If has officially been cancelled.  As per your orders, I waited until it was clear the mission could not succeed before doing so.  Once I realized Zhukov had surrendered, I made a typical McCallous scene and had it cancelled.  The show is done.”

     “You sound sad.” 

     “I suppose I am, slightly,” McCallous said.  “As a show, it had potential.  One of the writers…I forget which…told me of one episode that I thought would‘ve made for an amazing show.”

     “Please, do tell.”

     “Well, someone…an old enemy of the Sith or something…slices into the SSD’s computers and shuts down the entire ship, leaving them at their enemies mercy.  The enemy sends a boarding party to steal the ship, and if that isn’t successful, they use drone ships to ram and destroy the SSD.  It just has everything…action, suspense, drama, destruction…ground battles, space battles…it would’ve been a hell of show.  Enny all over it, I’m telling you.  And not just for visual effects.”

     His boss was quiet for a long moment and McCallous could only assume that he was thinking something over.

     “You have done well,” his boss finally said.  “You will be rewarded.  Now leave me.”

     McCallous gave a small bow, even though his boss was still staring out the window and couldn’t see him.

     “As you command…Lord Xavier.” 

     He turned and left.

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

     Xavier turned his chair around to face the desk and activated his hypercomm unit.  It did not take long for a connection to be established.  Now filling the screen was the most terrifying man that Xavier had ever seen in his life.  He was also the one that Xavier now called “Master.”

     “You have a report?”

     “I do, Lord Xanthis,” Xavier said.

     “Your mission failed?” Xanthis guessed.

     “It did, Lord.  My plan to destroy several members of Sith Squadron via the holoshow did not succeed.  They escaped.  However, my troops did perform admirably.  Only three losses out of ten men, which is not bad.  Better than projections called for.  Nor did I truly expect this mission to succeed.  It was a trial run.  A test for my agents.  Considering that ten soldiers is only a fraction of their team, they will do better next time, even against more than three Sith.”

     Despite his rationalizations, Xanthis did not seem amused.  “Do not tell me that you called to report failure and make excuses,” he scolded.

     “No, my lord,” Xavier said.  “I called because I have a new plan…”

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

     Palin was there to greet Seven upon his return from Coruscant.  She was waiting for him inside the docking bay, and the second he stepped off the ramp she wrapped her arms around him and gave him a quick kiss.  Seven let out a sheepish grin.

     “Wow, did you actually miss me?” he asked.

     “No, not at all,” she replied, grinning.

     Wrapping his arm around her, they left the docking bay.  He wished he could’ve stayed with her the whole night, but he knew that wasn’t possible.  First, there was the mission debriefing with Reno.  While he knew Reno would be happy about some things, Seven also knew there was stuff he was going to be less happy about…

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

     “Let me get this straight…” Reno started.  Throughout the mission, you shot your superior officer and held her captive, spent time at a male strip club, aided the enemy, and then let an enemy walk away?  What the hell were you thinking?”

     Seven knew this was coming.  He had a whole day in hyperspace to prepare for Reno’s questions and lectures.  Nothing was going to catch him off guard.  When he spoke, he spoke proudly, strongly, confidently.  He made no excuses for his actions.

     “As to the first, I had caught Jen making unauthorized transmissions to someone that sounded a lot like Xanthis.  If I had done anything but shoot and detain her, I would just be stupid.  As to the third, it was done to get the job done.  No squad secrets were revealed.  Janson had the same mission I did.  We used each other to accomplish our goals.  Nothing more.  As to the fourth, it was done to save Fox’s life.  There was no need for the bloodshed at that point.  Fox’s life was more important than Zhukov’s life to me.  I was saving the life of a squadron member.  That to me was important.”

     “And the strip club incident?”

     Seven let out a brief smile.  “No excuse for that one, sir,” he said.  “Except to say that I’ll never be able to look at Jace the same way again.

     The debriefing went on for quite a bit longer.  Question after question, detail after detail.  Jen sat in for the whole thing, though for some reason he didn’t question her at all.  Definitely strange, since her unauthorized transmissions still hadn’t been explained.  Seven would’ve thought that with a probable leak on board the SSD somewhere, she would be questioned for her actions.  That didn’t appear to be the case.  Wasn’t anyone worried about that?  When he asked about it, all he got from Reno was:

     “The leak situation was dealt with while you were gone.”

     What that meant, Seven didn’t know.

     After a while, Reno and Jen both left the room for a while, leaving Seven alone with this thoughts.  It was certainly nice to be back on the SSD.  Coruscant was definitely not the kind of place for him.  Too big, too loud, too many people.  And acting certainly wasn’t something he enjoyed.  He had never been so happy as he had been when he ripped off his Xanthis make up and spaced it.  Never again did he want to resemble that man in any way.

     It was great to see Palin again.  He swore she had gotten a little bigger since he had left, even though it was only a week later.  The fact that she had been waiting for his shuttle to land and greeted him with a kiss made him feel even better than spacing his Xanthis costume had.

     When Reno and Jen returned, it was clear that the debriefing would soon be over.  Reno had on his face that look that said he had come to some kind of decision. 

     “After discussing this matter over with Jen, who acted as your immediate superior on this last mission, I have come to a conclusion.  Keep in mind, though, that your actions on this mission have only reinforced something that I’ve felt for some time now.  In fact, it was the reason I allowed you to go on this mission in the first place.  Within the last year you have faced many extraordinary challenges, including but not limited to saving the SSD from destruction at the hand of that treacherous Bothan Plo’kre, and leading the team that stopped production of the Sith Squadron show.  In both situations you were outnumbered by your enemy, yet managed to achieve mission parameters and come out victorious.  Those are qualities that I approve of in my Sith…and my leaders.”

     Seven looked up at him, not sure of what to say.  Quite frankly, he wasn’t sure what Reno was saying.  Reno let out a small grin.

     “You’re being promoted, Seven.  To Colonel.  And being given official command of Two Flight.  Jen has also suggested that you take her place as third in command, behind Thunder.  She said on Coruscant that you showed strong leadership abilities and were the sole reason the mission succeeded.  She said that you responded well to unexpected changes, and made logical value judgments.  And, to cap it off, your strong demeanor here in the debriefing has shown me that you don’t apologize or make excuses for your actions, good or bad.  You stick to your guns.  And you will be rewarded for it.  Congratulations, Colonel Seven.”

     He held out his hand to Seven, which Seven promptly shook.  He couldn’t believe this.  Of all the things Reno could’ve said, he certainly hadn’t expected this.

     "Now, I believe, a few days of rest are in order for you," Reno said.

     Seven looked up in confusion.  "What about the Argolis mission?"

     "Never existed," Reno replied.  "It was a ruse to put added pressure on you.  I am glad to note, though, that you not only came back in time for it had it been real, but you accomplished your mission a whole day ahead of schedule.  Impressive." 

     Reno then left the room, leaving him alone with Jen.  He cast a glance over at her and noticed that she had a certain bit of pride in her smile.

     “Thanks,” he said.

     “I had a moment of weakness,” she replied.  “Besides, I hate responsibility.  You can have my job.  And keep in mind that I’m still going to kick your ass for shooting me.  Later, though.  I’ll let you enjoy the night.”

     She turned to leave, but Seven stopped her.  It was all starting to make sense now...

     “Wait,” he said.  “You were talking to Reno, weren’t you?  That’s who Bright Eyes was.”

     Jen let out another smile.  “Of course.  Reno’s been considering you for promotion for a while.  He wanted to be sure.  He sent me along on the mission to try and mess you up.  He wanted me to judge how well you dealt with unexpected changes, a suspicious looking CO and suddenly being thrust into leadership.”

     “You couldn’t have known I’d overhear your transmission,” Seven said.

     “No, not unless we saw you guys coming.  Hello, security monitors and all.  Once I saw you outside the ship, I just called him up.  A couple Bright Eyes comments while you overhead, and suddenly you had another leadership situation to deal with.  What to do with a CO that appeared to be a traitor? All part of the plan.  We were making transmissions all week, just in case you got a little too suspicious and bugged the comm system.  There was a lot of suspicious stuff that you never even heard.”

     “You didn’t expect me to shoot you, though, huh?”

     “No, I didn’t.  That was unexpected, and very painful.  As it happens, it worked out for the best, though.  You showed then that you could function as a team leader.  That part did go as planned.  I need to go, though.  I’ve been back for several hours and still haven’t seen Tyros.  He’s probably whimpering by now, poor boy…”

     And then Seven was alone.  But not for long.

* * * * * * * * * *

     They sat on their couch, wrapped in each other’s arms, a blanket lying on top of them.  It really was great to be home, Seven thought.  Nothing beat being wrapped in the arms of the woman you loved, in the dark of night, watching a few holoshows and catching up with recent events over the last week.

     As it happened, Palin didn’t exactly have the slowest week around the SSD.  During a walk, she had seen a random bridge crew lieutenant doing what seemed like interviews, and getting people’s feelings and opinions, though she saw no camera.  When she confronted him about being the leak that they were looking for, he made a hasty getaway.  The Siths went out looking for him, but he made a clean escape.  They found a shuttle missing the next day.  Somehow, the crafty lieutenant had stolen a shuttle and escaped from the SSD.  But with the leak gone, and the Sith Squadron show canceled, everything seemed to have turned out for the best.

     Once they had caught up with their current events, they just lay quietly and watched the news, enjoying once again being in each other’s arms.  There was a female reporter on the screen sitting behind a desk, who looked vaguely familiar to Seven…

     Oh no…

     “Greetings once again.  I’m Cynthia Torqueman, reporting for Insider’s Edge.  First up in the news is the mysterious cancellation of the anxiously awaited holoshow “Sith Squadron.”  Although only the pilot episode aired, Sacul Productions bought thirteen episodes for a season, several of which were produced.  Several days ago, though, Rebel terrorists attacked the set of the show and killed several of the cast and crew.  This brutal, vicious and unwarranted attack by Rebel forces has caused Jorge Sacul, owner of Sacul Productions, to cancel production of all future episodes.  

     “Controversy rocks the Imperial Navy as former naval Colonel Ian Liston was caught at The Blue Dice during its bombing several days ago.  What was a prominent Imperial Colonel doing at a male strip club?  Once we caught up with him, Liston had this to say.”

     Torqueman was replaced by a picture of the real Colonel Ian Liston, who looked rather angry and distraught.

     “I tell you, it wasn’t me!  I wasn’t there!  I was tied up at the time!  Wait, no, not tied up in that manner…I was being held captive, I don’t know by whom!  It wasn’t me, though, really!  I don’t even know where The Blue Dice is!  It wasn‘t me!  It wasn’t me!”

     Torqueman was back on the screen.

     “The Imperial Navy has declined to comment at this time.  Despite the Colonel’s claims of not being there, however, Insider’s Edge has gotten this exclusive footage from the night of the bombing at The Blue Dice.  Although Liston was not the man interviewed in this piece, he is clearly there behind the pervert we did interview.”

     And then the footage that Seven feared would air…aired.

     It was Seven, dressed in his Xanthis gear, but still recognizable as Seven to those who knew him, leaving The Blue Dice with Fox and Janson behind him, and Jen (still tied up) slung over Janson’s shoulder.

          “Hello, this is Cynthia Torqueman from Insider’s Edge, your top choice for inside scoops on all the latest news,” a female reporter said to the camera, before turning to Seven.  “I’m standing outside the infamous male strip club, The Blue Dice, which was only moments ago the target of what could be Rebel terrorist activities.  Standing next to me is one of the lucky survivors from today’s vicious assault by Rebel forces, and he will in moments relate to us a firsthand account of what transpired.  What is your name, sir?  What happened in the attack?  How many Rebel terrorists did you see?”

     “Uhhh…”

     “Can you tell our audience anything?  Did you see or witness the bombing?”

     “Umm…”

      “And what exactly are you doing here with a tied up woman, an old Imperial pilot, and a…a strange looking alien?  That seems bizarre even for patrons of The Blue Dice.”

     “Err…no comment.” 

     Seven quickly turned and fled, checking behind him to make sure Fox and Janson had also made clean escapes from the evil Cynthia Torqueman.  Behind him he could hear her continue.

     “There you have it, folks…no comment.  Suspicious words from a suspicious man.  But there are still many unanswered questions.  Why would the Rebels bomb a popular male strip club?  Was this man one of the Rebels involved with the bombing?  Or was he just embarrassed to be caught here indulging in his bizarre sexual fantasies?  The galaxy may never know.”

     Suddenly the holopad turned off, and Seven felt Palin sit up, breaking his embrace of her.  She looked at him, words completely failing both of them.  Seven himself was really at a loss of what to say. 

     “Yeah…” he stammered.  “Funny story about that…”

     Palin held a finger up to his lips, stopping him from talking.  “No need to explain,” she said.  “I love you, and that’s all that matters.”

     Seven smiled and at that particular moment there did not exist anywhere in the galaxy a happier man.  “I love you, too.”