(Author's note: The setting is on the planet Adalorn, but consider Adalorn much as Hollywood was in the 1920s to the late 1930s, both in appearance (the high-tech stuff is just blended in) and in feeling. This story is in no way a takeover, nor does it serve any purpose beyond amusmant. Enjoy.)


James Wallace waved goodbye. It was the big day, the day he’d go to Adarlon City, the day he’d fulfill his dreams, and become an actor. His mom and dad had seen him off, he’d shaken hands with all his friends, and he’d waved from the window of the transport as it began to move along the rail leading to the big city, and watched as people waved back to him, until they were a speck on the horizon.

He’d packed everything he could fit into a suitcase and still be able to carry it: change of clothes, picture of home, life’s savings from the assorted little jobs he’d worked before, everything he could. Lying on top was a flyer he’d plucked from a lamp-post, on it was the crest of Bantha Pictures, the biggest studios on the planet. He’d heard they were always looking for new talent, and hey, there were a lot of studios in Adalorn city.

He lifted the suitcase onto the seat across from him on the transport, and looked out the window at the signposts whizzing by. His eyes began to droop, as the trip wore on, and he fell asleep, dreaming of his space on the walk-of-fame and his first big smash movie.

______________________________________________________________________________

“Sorry, no parts for you.” Said the casting director. He had given James the merest cursory glance, and turned away. James frowned. The studio had been only a block away from the transport-dock, along a simple paved area of Adalorn Boulevard, a long street through the centre of town.

The studio was huge, massive tan buildings were scattered across the gigantic lot, and in the centre was a towering sky-scraper, where Bantha Studios was run from. He had been stopped at the gate, and a man in a suit had driven this way from the Main Building. He was now turning back and preparing to drive away.

“But I can act” said James, straightening his vest and shirt, and tweaking the feather on his hat. “And sing, if you’d let me.”

“Bantha Studios is not in need of...” The man in the suit suddenly paused, to make sure no one was listening “...The likes of you. Now go away.”

James, feeling a little crushed, turned away, picked up his suitcase, and walked off. But his optimism bounced back quickly. It was a sunny day, the light gleaming off the tall towers and apartments alike, and there were plenty of other studios to try. Someone’s gotta employ me he thought after all, this is Adalorn.

With a hop, skip, and a jump, he set off to the next studio.

______________________________________________________________________________

“I just don’t get it” said James, to no one in particular, as the sun set on Adalorn City. He’d spent all day visiting every studio in town. They all turned him down, without so much as listening to him. He was now dragging his feet towards a little apartment building, the only one in town within the price-bracket of someone coming from the country. With a sigh, he read the name-plate on the door.

Janice Yewl, affordable housing, no loudmouths, apply within.

“Well, at least it can’t get much worse.”

And then it began to rain.

______________________________________________________________________________

“You’re FIRED!” Roared the Producer, and Cory Kokomo was so thrown off he almost stumbled out of the window. He tried to focus on the man in front of him, but the drink was getting in his way.

“Every day you come to the set drunk! I’ve had enough, you’re out! We’ve written you out of the series!”

“You can’t do that!” Slurred Cory as he stood as straight as he could, considering the circumstances. “I have a contreac-hic - a contract with the studios.”

“Your contract is terminated, you’re out! Now get off my stage!”

Cory was the veteran of dozens of movies, a pretty big name as far as movies went, but even through the haze of alcohol he knew they meant it. Maybe he’d just lost faith in the studios, maybe showbiz lost its’ glamour, or maybe he just really liked to drink, but something had been sending his career down the tubes. He was thirty-five, he couldn’t retire. But putting that aside for now, he collected his thoughts, stood up straight, and managed to speak almost coherently.

“All right then, I’m going. I shall take my business elsewhere. Mark my words though, you’ll regret this!” He then dragged himself out of the studio, off the lot, and lay meekly on the sidewalk.

What was he going to do?

James tentatively opened the door. An old lady, wearing beads and smoking a cigarette on the end of some sort of stick stirred from behind her desk as he stepped in. James nodded politely to her, and spoke.

“Janice Yewl?”

“Yes, what is it you want, dear?” Her voice was gravely, making a scraping noise as she spoke.

“Um, I heard you have rooms for rent? I need a place to stay. I can pay...” He felt awkward.

The old lady took a moment to give him a hard look, the look of a woman who could evaluate you with one pass of her eyes. Finally, she nodded. “All right” She said “You can have room C-12, it’s on the second floor.” James nodded relieved, took the key, and hurried up the stairs-

-colliding with an old man, coming down the stairs and holding an old stack of yellowing photographs. As he tumbled down the stairs, his photos went flying in disarray around the room.

“Oh I’m so sorry!” said James as he hurried to pick up the scattered pictures.

“It was just an accident” mumbled the old man, meekly collecting the photos.

James looked at them, and saw that they were of actors. Lots of them, playing all sorts of roles, doing all kinds of things, although none of which he recognized.

“Say who are these guys.” he said, as he passed the pictures to the little old man.

The old man coughed nervously “Oh, when I was younger I used to do a little work as an agent. Didn’t turn out too well, sadly. A pity, some good people come to this city.”

He was about to keep moving when James placed his hand gently on the man’s shoulder. “What do you mean, a pity? This is Adarlon, isn’t it?”

The old man turned, and gave him a careful look. “Oh, you’re new here, aren’t you? Well, someone might as well tell you now. Sit down.”

______________________________________________________________________________

Climbing into the taxi, Cory tried to stop the world from spinning, and tried to speak to the driver.

“Take me to the Seaport Stop, you know the place.”

The driver gave him a grin “Oh, pretty well. You sure, buddy? You look like you might have seen one too many bars all ready.”

Cory groaned. “I’m sure. After all the drinks I’ve had, what I need to settle myself is a stiff drink.”

“Can’t argue with that, to the Stop then.” There was some worrying spluttering from the cab, but at this point Cory didn’t care if the thing burped flames, so long as it got him there.

What the hell was he going to do? He was lucky to bag that job, he had the money now, he had prestige, why did he have to throw it away?

God knows why, and he isn’t telling. The drive pulled up in front of the restaurant/bar, and the driver tapped him on the shoulder.

“We’re here, Mr. Kokomo.”

Cory looked up “How’s about I buy you a few rounds and we call it even?”

The driver smiled “Sounds good to me.”

______________________________________________________________________________

“So let me get this straight” Said James. He and Jeremiah, the old man, had gone for a walk. “The only people who get real acting jobs around here are the upper-class guys?”

“Pretty much” said Jeremiah, with a sigh “A city where all your dreams come true, if you’re in the right family. It just isn’t right, I know, but what are we gonna do? All the studios are owned by rich families, there’s nothing we can do about it.”

James sighed heavily, but his optimism stirred.

“Well, could be worse, I’m sure I’ll find something. Want to get something to eat?”

Jeremiah nodded, still rather meekly “Sure, Seaport Stop is near by, we’ll go there.”

Seaport Stop was a rather motley sort of bar, a good place for a few drinks, a basket of fries, a burger, and a seat overlooking the water. The place was almost empty, except for the sleepy bartender, Jeremiah, James, Cory, and Doug Feldmen the Taxi driver.

Cory was getting into his second bottle of scotch, and the world was starting to turn a funny colour. He lifted himself up, and suddenly felt the basket of popcorn shrimp he had eaten before his first drink was still rising. He hurried out to the balcony.

There, James was looking out over the water. Some sort of steam-ship was out on the water, paddling away, and he watched it behind the setting sun as it finally dipped below the horizon. He sighed heavily, and took a sip of lemonade. Turning to his left, he suddenly saw Cory. It took a moment for him to recognize him, but when he did he marched straight over.

“Cory? Cory Kokomo?”

The man, bleary-eyed with exhaustion, turned to face him. “Yeah... what is it...?”

“You’re the actor? Red-Five from “Death Star Run”? Blue Montague from “Under the moonlight sky?”“

”Yeah kid, that’s me. What is it?”

James felt excited, a real movie star!

“Do you want to sit down?”

“Sure” he rasped, and groaned as he slowly lowered himself onto a chair.

“What’s wrong?” Said James. What could possibly be so wrong as to make someone drink so much?

“They fired me, after fifteen years of hard work and dedication to the job. Bantha Studios, nothing but a bunch of snobs, who got the company from their snob-parents. They don’t know zip about movies. I do though, for what good it does me. Hell, I could write a better movie then those talentless freaks. So could you, I bet.”

James listened carefully to Cory’s words. As he finished, to take another swig of scotch, James slowly had the inkling of an idea.

“Mr. Kokomo? Need a refill? I want to talk to you about something...”

______________________________________________________________________________

Mrs. Yewl was reading an old magazine she’d found in a box in the basement. It reminded her of all the old actors, the real ones, who used to do movies. Those were the golden years, not like these days.

Suddenly, the door was shoved roughly open. Jeremiah and that new one, James were carrying between them a middle-aged man who seemed faintly familiar. Whoever he was, he reeked of drink. Bringing up the rear was another unknown, this one wearing a taxi-driver’s cap, who nodded politely and sipped from a drink-mug he had with him. The group mumbled good-nights to Mrs. Yewl in passing, and hurried up the stairs.

Janice took a second to think this over, and decided that so long as they paid their rent, she didn’t care what went on.

______________________________________________________________________________

Cory lifted his head, and suddenly felt like a thousand hammers had leapt all over his body. His vision was blurred badly, but he could just about see that he was on a make-shift guest-bed in an apartment’s lounge-area. He was still wearing the exact same things he had been wearing last night, and they all felt fine. He couldn’t see anyone anywhere.

What had happened? Oh yeah, he was fired, he talked to that James guy, they’d talked about something... What was it?

“You’re up then!” said a familiar voice. James had just stepped into the apartment from the hall. Under his arm were some newly-bought note-pads, some pens, and a large book. Following him was the old man, Jeremiah, and then that taxi-driver Doug.

“...What happened?” Was all Cory could manage.

“We talked last night, and you told me about how the other studios were just rich guys with no story-telling skill. We discussed how we could make our own movie, better then theirs. You then argued with a house-plant for an hour, and passed out.” Said James, smiling politely.

“Oh yeah, I remember that.” said Cory, gradually. “But what’s all this stuff for?”

“We liked one of your ideas.” Said Doug.

“A risky idea” warned Jeremiah.

“But a good idea.” adds James.

“But what IS the idea?” asks Cory.

“Simple” said James “If they won’t let us act in their movies, we’ll make our own!”

The four of them were sitting around a box of pizza, a pad of paper, and a collection of pencils.

“Romance?”

“Nah, too cheesy, plus who’d play the chick?”

“Mystery?”

“Can anyone here honestly say they could write a good mystery?”

Nothing yet, but they were hoping. Finally, James spoke.

“How about a war-film? There’s a lot of wars going on, and they make some of the best movies.”

The four of them mulled it over for a time. A war film sounded good, but they require a lot of special effects. Plus, extras. But then again, it wouldn’t be too hard to write.

“Ok, war film it is.” said Cory triumphantly. “But... what war? And more importantly, where are we gonna get all the stuff?”

After a moment, Jeremiah cleared his throat. “I think Mrs. Yewl could help us there. Her husband fought with the rebels at the battle of Endor.”

______________________________________________________________________________

There was a moment of respectful silence as Mrs. Yewl considered their offer. She’d be official fact-checker, prop-lady, and play a minor role during the briefing scene. She’d get a share of any profits, but they’d need to use the entire apartment, plus the area out back. Also, she might need to lend funds.

Finally, she spoke “Well... All right. But you’ll have to keep the mess from building up! I don’t want this place to fall apart, you know!”

“Of course” said Jeremiah respectfully “We’ll go through every measure to ensure this place is kept crisp and clean.”

Everyone nodded duly.

She was quiet for a second longer, thinking about what to do next. “Pass me that pad of paper, I’ve got some ideas.”

______________________________________________________________________________

The president of Bantha Studios, H. R. Smedly, was furious. “What!?”

“I fired him as you requested, sir!” wailed the director.

“You IDIOT, you know how dangerous it is to just cut loose an actor like that? We needed to build a good case against him first!”

“Well, he WAS drunk...”

“I don’t want any excuses! Send out a ‘Bouncer’ to make sure he’s in no condition to work for the other studios! I’m not losing another actor to the Yimen Guild!

______________________________________________________________________________

The five of them were in James’s room, writing on a large pad of paper. The ideas were pouring in, and Jeremiah was hard-pressed to keep up with them.

“Ok, the hero should be a fighter-pilot” said James.

“And the villain?” asked Cory.

“How about another fighter pilot?” said Mrs. Yewl. “My husband used to go on and on about Zeta-one, the captain of a fighter group for the Imperials. My husband got him in the end, of course.”

“That’d work” said Doug “I could play him. Being evil’s not as hard as it looks, I bet.”

“Ok, and who else?”

“Let’s give the hero a side-kick. His wing mate, maybe?”

“And we’ll set a lot of the film in the ships, and keep the fighter battle for the end.”

“How are we going to do a fighter battle?”

“We’ll jump that hurdle when we get to it.”

“What about a love interest?”


Everyone paused. A love interest? It had been Cory’s suggestion, and he seemed a little surprised too.

“Well yeah” he said “I mean, a good movie always has a love interest.”

Further discussion was halted by a knocking at the door. Curiously, James and Cory went downstairs. But before they reached the door, it was pushed off the hinges. A huge, titan of a man strode in, stooping to get through the doors.

“Oh Frack” whispered Cory “A Bouncer... I thought they were just a rumour...”

The huge, titanic man stomped towards the pair, leering menacingly. “Mr. Cory. I have been sent to... Ensure... You don’t try to sell your services elsewhere. Um...” His menacing nature began to falter a little. “Um... I’m new to this...”

There was an uncomfortable silence. Cory suddenly leaned over, and whispered to James. “I got an idea.”

Before James could stop him, Cory stepped forwards. “Hey, buddy. We could use your help. Let me get a good look at you.”

The bouncer was a bit confused, but waited patiently as Cory gave him an appraising look.

“Yup, you’re just what we’re looking for. Hey James, think he’d make a good side-kick?”

“In a movie?” Asked the Bouncer, excited.

“Sure!” Said James, relieved “He could be just what we’re looking for!”

______________________________________________________________________________

So now the six of them, including Nick the bouncer, were back in James’s room. They’d barely begun again, when a light knocking could be heard from the door.

“Who is it now?” Wondered James, as he opened the door.

Standing the hall, wearing a wide-brim hat and a heavy coat, was a young woman. She had shiny brown hair, dazzling green eyes, and a slightly nervous smile.

“Um, I heard you downstairs.” she said, her voice faint. “If you’re making a movie, could there be a part in it for me?”

James couldn’t reply for a moment, he just stood transfixed. Cory had the faintest of smiles on his face, and leaned over to Doug.


“The romantic interest.”

“Ay, she could probably play that well.”

“Who’s talking about the movie?”

So now the seven of them were crowded around the pad of paper, that was by now covered in runaway ideas. Jeremiah had to take a break when his hand cramped up from writing. But it was worth it, they had their idea.

“Let’s go over this one more time” said Cory, as he flipped through the pages. “It’s a war film about the battle of Endor. In it, young flying-ace and rebel Captain Nate Welsh and his elite fighter squad are tasked with the near-impossible role of taking out the deadly new Imperator Star Destroyer Punishment, that is believed to carry a stock-pile of super-weapon class missiles that will certainly devastate the rebel fleet. Against them, is fighter-commander for the Punishment, Krix. During the film, Krix and Welsh prepare for the engagement, digging into each other’s pasts, training against simulations of each other, everything, until the fateful meeting during the climax. Supporting roles will be from their fighter squads.”

It was a good idea, and they had spent most of the night putting the pieces together. Mrs. Yewl went and made them some tea, as James took a look at some of the sheets lying around. “Ok, so we’ll need extras, sets, some way of making a fighter battle, costumes, cameras, make up, lights, computers...”

“So, money?” Said Cory.

“More or less.”

“Well all right then” Cory moved to stand before the group. “In that case, we better get cracking. Jeremiah, you and me will write out the scene-by-scene scripts. Mrs Yewl, if you could gather pictures, files, and examples of the era, dress, and appearance of the time? James and Alice” The girl who had just joined nodded “You two have to find us somewhere to shoot, where we can get cameras, where there’s some half-decent props, and so on. Let’s get going!”

The group broke up in various directions, except Doug the taxi driver and Nick the bouncer. They looked around, curious as to what they were supposed to do.

“You two” said Cory, facing them “Have the most important job of all. Think of a way we can raise a lot of money, very very quickly. Good luck!”

He then hurried off in pursuit of Jeremiah.

Doug and Nick exchanged glances. Great.

______________________________________________________________________________

Cory and Jeremiah sat down with a datapad each, and began to type.

Script-writing was a long and dull process, and the two quietly discussed the virtues of particular lines and events.

Finally, Jeremiah paused. He looked at his screen, which was showing something Jeremiah had written.

“You can’t say that!” He said, slightly shocked.

“What? All he said was fu-“

”I don’t care, we’re not having swearing in this film.”

“The guy’s fighter just burst into flames and he was hurtling towards the earth. I doubt he’d keep his composure.”

Jeremiah paused, trying to think of some good counter-point “Well, he’s crashing rather fast, so maybe he’d explode before he said the entire word?”

Cory was silent, as this sunk in “You know, you didn’t say a word of protest at us showing a pilot crashing to his death, but ‘the f-word’ is controversial?”

Jeremiah looked at the screen. “Good point.”

______________________________________________________________________________

Mrs. Yewl stepped into a room at the back that seemed like it hadn’t been stepped in for an age. Dust coated everything, from the old, worn desk to the faint wedding pictures on the walls. She kept a respectful silence, and moved slowly to a foot-locker marked ‘A.Y.’. She picked it up, blew the dust off, and looked at the engraved letters with a tear in her eye.

After a moment, she began to lower it back in it’s space in the dust, but stopped. Once again, she reached up, and looked at the locker. It hadn’t been opened in decades. The lock was rusted and worn thin. Finally, with great effort, she sat down on the bed, removed the worn lock, and opened the box.

A rush of stale air came up to meet her, and she blinked the dust from her eyes. Inside, she looked at a neatly-pressed, spotless, brand-new New Republic uniform, with a captain’s rank markers on the sleeve. She reverently removed it from the case, and put it next to her. Beneath it lay an assortment of notes, small mementoes from planets far away, a few foreign coins, and-


And, at the bottom, was a pile of pictures. There were all of Augustus Yewl’s squad-mates, visits to different planets, and one, worn with age and care, of their wedding.

______________________________________________________________________________

James and Alice had been riding the street-cars all day.

“So that last place was...”

“The Freidman Studio” supplied Alice.

“Right, and they said we can’t film there either. That was the last lot in town, now what are we supposed to do?”

Alice braced herself against the seat while they rode over a bump in the rails she knew all too well. James, however, fell flat on his face. Alice couldn’t help but snicker a little, as he straightened his hat and sat back down.

“Well” she said “I can think of one place we didn’t try.”

“Where? We’ve got three maps here, and we’ve been to every studio on each of them. There’s just no where in the city you can film.”

Alice pulled the cord on the street-car. It came to a sudden halt, and James fell flat again. Alice stepped over him, another snicker escaping her as he fumbled to get out from under one of the seats. The pair eventually got off, and Alice took a few steps around, getting her sense of location.

“This way.” The two hurried down several interconnected alleys, and down several staircases, until they made it to a huge, empty, and dark structure hidden under an unused road.

“Wow.” said James, as he looked down on it from where they were standing.

“It’s the old Studio 44, Bantha Studios used it until it became too expensive to fix, it’s just sat here since. I used to go here to sing by myself after school.”

James slowly made his way towards the huge building, and gave the large, rusted door a push. With surprising ease, it creaked open. Inside, there was nothing but bare walls and solid floors, the ideal conditions for setting up a movie set.

“It’s perfect!”

“I thought you’d say that.”

______________________________________________________________________________

As James and Alice made their way to 89th street, where Mrs. Yewls’ block was, they found themselves moving through thicker and thicker crowds of people. Suddenly, someone James had never met shoot his hand and wished him good luck

Finally, they saw why. Up ahead, a banner had been stretched between the two sides of the street.

“The Movie Project Fund-raiser and Promotional bash!”

James groaned. “This is Nick and Doug’s work, I bet.”

Alice, however, was smiling “But look, it’s working!”

Near the centre of the crowd, Nick and Doug could be seen taking in so many donations that they could hardly keep up with it.

“Doug!” Shout James “Doug, what’s going on?”

Doug turned, between a fistful of credit-slips, and shouted back “Everyone on the street’s contributing! Did you know we’re the first people to ever try and make a movie without one of the studios backing it?”

“And there’s an open bar for donations of 50 credits or more” Added Nick.

Garth hurled the newspaper from his desk, and the papers scattered in all directions. The little project started by Cory and his associates had stolen the headlines from his newly announced screen epic about The Passion of the Sith. A bunch of lower-class delinquints and poor-people like this can’t get away with filming something under his very nose! He had to do something.

“I could send out another Bouncer, sir” said one of his hencmen, a director. But Garth shook his head.

“We need to put a stop to this without making them look like heroes. We need to discredit them. Give me some peace and quiet, I need to think about this.

______________________________________________________________________________

“Aaaaaaaaaaand Action!” Cory, sitting in the director’s chair, watched as James leapt from the @#%$-pit of the fake crashed X-wing they’d set up in the middle of the set. Laser beams blasted around him as he rolled for cover. The opening scene was going as planned, as the people dressed as rebel ground-crews dived for cover from the Imperial attacks. It was a dramatic opening scene, and Jeremiah was proud of it. &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp

Cory sat in silence, and let the scene play its’ course. James made it past a pair of troopers and dived for the doors. “Cut!”

James dusted himself off and smiled “How was that?”

“Great” said Cory “Just great, we’ll set up for the next take.” And with that, Cory got up and moved amongst the stacks of props behind the set. James refocused on the task ahead, and shook hands with some of the other actors. They were just about finished setting up again, when James noticed Cory wasn’t in his chair.

“Hold on” he said. “Where’s the director?” Nick, who was doubling as the productions’ security, shrugged.

James moved in amongst the stacks of props, and eventually spotted a hunched figure behind a stack of storm-trooper suits. It was Cory, clutching a bottle of scotch. “You know you can’t direct well drunk.” said James, who reached down to pull up his friend.

But Cory recoiled. “The hell I can’t. I’m always drunk, haven’t you noticed?”

James gave him a severe look. “You can’t go out there drunk, that’s just disgraceful.”

“And what are you going to do about it?”

“This” And with that, James made a grab for the bottle. Cory tried to keep his hands on it, but he only succeeded in making it slip. It shattered on the ground, and left glass shards everywhere.

“Why you-“ Cory started, but paused. He looked at the broken shards of glass, sighed, and looked up again “All right, I won’t drink while I’m directing. But try that any other time, and see how many fingers you get away with.”

______________________________________________________________________________

Elsewhere, Doug was putting on his “Tie Pilot” costume. “A little tight around the waist” he said, and he tried to adjust the belt. Mrs. Yewel came round, gave his uniform a good look, and went back to rooting through a box of props.

“It’ll fit fine, once you’ve worn it for a bit. Now come over here and try on these flight-masks. We haven’t got too many, so you’ll have to try them all on.”

Doug complied, and began trying to fit them over his cabby hat. Yewel sighed, and turned to where Alice was trying on her costume. It was a rebel engineer costume, but like most of the rebel kit it was heavily personalized. She’d even sown a flower into one of the sleeves, that looked just lovely. Yewel was quite pleased with the overall look, and brought her over to a mirror.

“Oh, you look wonderful dear.” She said, and looked reminiscent for a few moments.

“Um, I guess so, but why don’t I have a gun?”

Mrs. Yewel awoke again, and turned to her. “Oh, I guess they must have just forgotten yours.”

There was a distinct pop, as Doug got the mask off his face. “No” he said “I saw that too. Jeremiah said you didn’t need one for any of the scenes, and our prop budget was stretched as it is.

Mrs Yewel Stiffened. “Well that won’t do. I was in the rebellion in those days, and no one went anywhere without a gun. There has to be one kicking around.”

Doug reached into his vest pocket and took out a largish blaster pistol, handing it politely to Alice. Mrs. Yewel looked shocked. “Is that a REAL blaster pistol, Mr. Feldmen?”

“Um, yeah. But don’t worry, I took out the ammo, it’s harmless.”

“I guess that’s all right then.” said Mrs. Yewel, giving Doug a sideways glance. She then turned back to Alice, who seemed to be staring far off. But Mrs. Yewel saw where she was looking, which was on the set. There, James was dramatically arguing with a pilot who insisted they couldn’t take off with the amount of fire they were under.

“Worried about your first performance onstage?” Said Mrs. Yewel.

Alice seemed to wake up, and turned to face Mrs. Yewel “Hm? Oh, not at all. I was just... thinking.”&nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp

Garth hurled his morning paper in anger out the window. It drifted apart and down the massive tower, as he turned to his pair of cowering henchmen, Oswald the director and Giovanni the producer. “I can’t take one more day of this!” He shouted. “And now I have a plan.”

His two henchmen peeked out from behind their chairs.

“I sent a representative to go see their “studio”. It’s not their to film in, its’ just an old abandoned building. They have none of the right permits.”

“Brilliant work, sir” said Oswald, uneasily seating himself again. “What do you want us to do?”

Garth lit a long, fanciful cigar, and sneered at the two of them. “Why, the honest, decent thing. Report their activities to the proper authorities, see to it they’re out of there by this afternoon.”

______________________________________________________________________________

Nick was asleep outside the studio. It was a hot day, and inside they were busy filming a scene where James and Alice were listening to the briefing from Mrs. Yewel, who was playing some Mon Moma, or Mothma, or some weird name like that. Anyways, he wasn’t in it, and he wouldn’t mind some rest.

But it appears that would be beyond his reach. Someone was tapping on his shoulder. He sighed, and looked up, into the faces of a pair of Adalorn Local Police. Neither of them seemed too happy.

“I hear this building is being used without a license” said one of them, looking loathsomely upon Nick. “You know who owns this place?”

Nick was about to answer, when Doug interrupted “Why its’ his, officer.”

Nick was stunned. No it wasn’t, what was going on? He was about to ask, when Doug spoke again. “Its’ been in his family for years.”

“Of course it has!” Said Cory, hurrying over to pat Nick on the back. This old chisler charges us a pretty penny to use it, I can tell you that!”

“Cory, what’s going on?” Said Nick, mildly worried at this turn of events.

“Nothing, nothing at all” said Cory, who then addressed the two police “So is there anything we can do for you two?”

One of the police nodded “We’ve heard this place is unlicensed, from a VERY reliable source. You’re going to have to show us some papers.”

“Sure thing” said Cory evenly. “Nick let me use his office while we film this movie of ours, so I’ll get them for you. While you wait, why not have a drink?” Cory seemed to almost hesitate for a second, then passed them his untouched bottle of scotch, before retreating to his office.

The two policemen seemed happy with this, one even called “Take your time”.

Doug caught up to Cory, who had kept his composure but was swearing the sky blue. “What the hell are we supposed to do?”

“I don’t know” he rasped. “But that bottle of scotch is older then me, we’ve got some time.”

The two dug through thick layers of yellowed documents they’d found in the old office, looking for anything that could help them. Doug found a few magazines that he decided to hold on to for later, but nothing that could help them.

Finally, when all seemed lost, Cory unearthed an ancient box, within which was just what they were looking for. A few adjustments later, they were hurrying back to the police.

“Oh Gods no.” murmured Doug, as he rounded the corner. The two police had polished off the bottle, and were now being led to Cory’s office by Nick, with more then a little stumbling.

Cory whipped up an instant smile, and met the two guards with a nod. “Here’s the license you wanted.”

An officer tried to focus on it, but it came out as a haze to him. He passed it to his colleague, but it was no less foggy. “Howsabout we just take a nice sit in yer office for... I dunno... Police business or something?”

Cory was sweating bullets, and let them in. Then he froze. He had never really noticed before, but hanging over the desk was a painting of the studio’s last owner, who was about ten times smaller then Nick. The two guards flumped into dusty old chairs, and cast a hazy eye from the painting to Nick.

“You’re the spitting image of your dad.” mumbled one, with a smile, before he fell asleep.

“S’right, s’obviously yours then.” said the other, and he too fell asleep.

Doug and Cory let out pent-up sighs of relief. It was then they noticed that on-set, everyone had stopped to watch them.

“Well, get back to work then!” Shouted Cory, who began to walk out again towards his chair.&nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp

Garth hurled the newspaper with a howl of rage. The headlines were once again stolen from him by Cory and his little movie. His henchmen dared not even enter the room. He needed to stop this NOW. If actors and regular people see them complete this movie, they’ll start to think ANYONE can just make a movie if they want to. And there was no way Bantha Studios could allow that.

“Oswald! Plum! Into my office!” His two dejected lackeys entered. “This has gone on just long enough!”

“Yes sir” said Oswald, cringing “Of course sir.”

“It is time we... take matters into our own hands, I think.”

His two henchmen looked at each other, worry evident on their faces.


“I think its’ time we took a little trip to Mr. Kokomo’s studio...”&nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp

______________________________________________________________________________

“Cut!”

Alice lowered the astromech from the X-wing with a gasp. It had been a long day of shooting, and they must have re-shot the scene where she and James prep the fighters for launch a thousand times, but the way Cory went on you’d think that was the bare minimum.
&nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp
“Good work today” said James as he got out of the X-wing cockpit and patted Alice on the back with a smile.

She blushed, and nodded. Cory came over to break up the slight awkwardness of the situation.

“Well” He said, with a grin, “Only one more day of shooting. We just have to do the final scene and then we’ve got this movie in the can!”

A ragged cheer rose up from the cast and crew. “Now get your coats” called Cory “We’re all off to Seaport Stop, and the drinks are on me!”

“We’re going to hold you to that” said Doug with a smile, as he began turning off the cameras, computers, and the like. As the last person to leave, he also turned out the lights.

And, as he left, a dark shadowy figure - or three - moved out of hiding from behind the scenery crates. Moving slowly, they crept towards the set -

Suddenly, a door in the back opened. The three figures leapt away. Mrs. Yewel came out of the bathroom, and looked around with surprise to see no one there.

“They’ve gone to Seaport Stop again” she mumbled. “I told Jeremiah he shouldn’t go, his liver isn’t as good as he thinks it is.”

One of the shadowy figures moved up behind her as she fumbled for her handbag. She knew she left it around here somewhere, but where? Wait, what was-

______________________________________________________________________________

Cory burst into laughter as Doug, Nick, and some of the crew fell off the balcony and into the lake, to much applause. He reached for his beer but his hand was smacked sharply by Jeremiah’s cane. Cory sighed, and accepted that so long as his ‘friends’ were about he wasn’t getting a drop of drink.

He got up to stretch his legs, letting the strained sounds of bad music play about his ears. Going to the bar to order something he’d be allowed to drink, he saw Alice and James, and allowed himself a chuckle. He picked up a glass of water, nodded to the barman, and sat back down with Jeremiah.

“I hope he can keep his eyes on his LINES tonight, eh Jerry?” He said, taking a sip. Jeremiah, simply sighed and rolled his eyes.

“Oh, you can be so dreadful in manners some times.” he said, but Cory just smiled, and after putting down his glass of water in distaste, got up to help fish Nick out of the River. Apparently the large man could bend an iron bar in two but couldn’t swim in two feet of water.

James eventually convinced himself to leave Alice at the bar temporarily so he could catch sight of the proceedings. But as he went, he paused next to Jeremiah. “Hey Jerry, where’s Mrs. Yewel?”

Jeremiah frowned, as it dawned on him she wasn’t with the group. “She must have been left behind at the studio. Oh the poor woman, she’ll be horribly cross in the morning.”

James couldn’t help but laugh at the thought of the old lady, shouting her voice hoarse about being left behind. But as he did so, he caught a wiff of smoke. He stopped laughing, and sniffed deeply. He could definitely smell it. People fell silent as a pungent cloud of smoke passed through the bar, clearly from a fire. Cory ran over to James, and spoke hurriedly. “We turned everything off, right?”

“Yes” James said, with mounting worry “I’m sure of it, we must have...”

As a feeling of dread began to sink into them, Jeremiah suddenly cried out. “Janice!” He shouted “Janice Yewels’ still there! She could burn alive!”

Gripped with panic, the three-dozen or so cast and crew from along the entire bar and waterfront were suddenly motivated to action. Running as fast as they could towards the studio, they made their way through the twisting city, keeping their eyes fixed on the black clouds rising ominously from the direction of the studio.

______________________________________________________________________________

They arrived, to find the studio ablaze. The firefighters had yet to arrive, and smoke poured from a burn-hole in the roof.

“Janice!” Shouted Jeremiah through a window “Can you hear us!?”

But there was no reply. Cory immediately sprung into action, shouting orders to his colleagues. “Quick! There’s a water pipe on the bridge! Break it open and form a bucket line, sharpish! Nick, get that door open, Doug, round up the neighbourhood and tell them to bring every hose and bucket they can find. Jeremiah, you stay here and organize things. James, you’re coming with me!”

“I’m coming too!” Insisted Alice, who stepped forwards. Cory and James looked at her and then each other with raised eyebrows, but they didn’t have time to argue. Nick pulled the burning door from its’ hinges, and Cory, James and Alice all leapt into the flaming studio.

Everything was on fire, everything was obscured. “Spread out!” Cory shouted through the smoke “We’ve got to get Janice and the film out of here!”

Alice and James leapt away towards the offices, while Cory slipped through the set and behind the prop crates to get to the other side of the studio. Carefully keeping himself out of reach of the flames, he spotted the film-crate, within which they had been storing the completed movie film. But as he leant over to pick it up, he was clubbed on the back of the head by a metal pole, once used to hold up a scene background. In a daze, he got up again to see a cloaked figure holding the film crate and going for the window.

Grabbing a prop-sword, he ran forwards and slapped the figure hard on the side of the face. He fell over, and Cory dived on him, trying to wrestle the film from his opponents’ hands. But the figure lashed out and Cory rolled onto his back. Once again the shadow went for the window, but Cory tripped him. Finally, Cory got his foot under the crate, kicked it upwards, caught it, and was able to give one more kick to his opponent as he fled. As he fled, something fell from his pocket. Cory picked it up...

James and Alice found Janice Yewel trapped under a broken, burning desk in one of the offices.

James rushed forwards to lift her up, but Alice cried out to stop him. “Don’t!” She said “You might move her into the fire, we’ve got to move the desk first!”

Grabbing a side on either end, Alice and James lifted the desk with all their might, and succeeded in moving it off of Mrs. Yewel. She began to come round and awake, when the two pulled her up and ran for the exit.

Cory, Mrs. Yewel, Alice, and James all made it out into the open air, but despite their friends best efforts, the studio would burn to the ground.