The Sith Lords: Behind the Game

Her shuttle was silent, the boarding ramp was lowered, it was time to head out to the waiting jungle moon. She paused at the top of the ramp and stared out at the green clearing, stained gray beneath an overcast sky. She disliked this place; always had. It wasn't that the moon teemed with the seedy, scummy underbelly of society or was hostile to Force users. It was true Dxun was the home to several aggressive species of beasts and was imbued with a dangerous dark energy courtesy of Freedon Nadd's now looted tomb, but none of that seemed to register.

The reason Darth Revan disliked Dxun was much simpler. Bad weather. It was humid and rained far too often. The rain did nothing to alleviate the humidity. And she always seemed to be downwind from something foul-smelling.

'Time to go,' she thought, reaching down for her cargo bag. She slung the heavy bag over her shoulder and headed down. She had taken only a few steps from the ramp when it started to rain.

'Of course,' she thought, looking up, 'it only starts raining when I get outside.' She adjusted the hood of her dark robes to cover her better. She was also wearing her Sith mask, she was in that kind of mood.

Trudging through the long wet grass, she made her way to a path in the jungle. The trees formed a dark canopy above her and she could not see too far ahead on the path as it twisted often around the tangled mass of roots and vines. She swatted away a pesky insect buzzing near her ear and once again thought about how she disliked Dxun.

As the path turned again, she suddenly came upon a malraas and a cannok fighting each other. It appeared to be the end of the fight, the bloody malraas fell over and the cannok, half-standing on it, started chewing on the belly. For all of ten seconds before it noticed her. Then it charged down the path, blood and drool spraying from its open maw.

Without changing her pace, she simply unclipped one of her lightsabers from her belt, igniting and throwing it in one swift motion. The red lightsaber spun towards the cannok, which ran right into it. The beast fell over and Darth Revan picked up her lightsaber when she reached the carcass. She wondered idly how these beasts could see properly; their eyes appeared to be on opposite sides of their head. But she did not stop, clipping her deactivated lightsaber back to her belt.

Around the next bend the path became a little wider and she could see a remote camera scanning the path. This was definitely the right way, she could not have asked for a better sign. But a better sign was there anyway, attached to a tree was a bright yellow sign with a black arrow pointing to the way out.

Emerging from the jungle into another clearing, she saw the back of the gigantic pyramid temple that was Freedon Nadd's tomb. This was one of the locations for filming The Sith Lords, though the decision to be on location irritated her. Massive windowless tents had been set up at the base of the pyramid; she walked around to the doorway of the nearest one. She did not see anyone outside, the rain had probably driven them inside or they were filming inside the temple.

Opening the door, she immediately recognized Helena Shan's Wardrobe. Fitting rooms lined the sides of the tent, racks of clothing and armour were arranged near the door, while sewing machines and spools of fabric were in the middle of the tent. At the back were several steps for fittings.

Darth Revan walked in past the racks of clothing, everyone who was in the tent was at the back either being fitted or doing the fitting. The Handmaidens were all in various states of undress, wearing litle more than black bras and panties. They all looked like clones, same proportions, same white hair. In the centre, Atris stood regal and pristine, being fitted for her white outer robe. 'Who wears all white robes?' Darth Revan thought, 'She's not fooling anyone.'

"And what are you doing here, Revan?" Atris demanded, the first to notice her. The Handmaidens looked over, but showed no interest.

However, at Revan's name, the wardrobe personnel all turned around. Helena and Juhani smiled, T3-M4 whistled politely, and Bastila just frowned. Seeing Bastila working with her mother was a surprise, but Revan guessed she was just milking LucasArts for as much as she could.

"Causing trouble, can't you tell?" she replied, her voice sounding grave and powerful through her mask. She waved hello.

"Well come by anytime, dear," Helena said indulgently, turning back to Atris.

"Mother!" Bastila muttered. T3-M4 rudely bumped into her. Leave it to the little droid to defend Helena even from her daughter.

Revan was actually on set to meet specific people, so she looked around to see if she missed anyone in the Wardrobe. Although she couldn't see anyone, she became increasingly aware of someone else there, exuding an aura of mischief and smugness. She wandered over to the side near some fabric spools and then she heard someone softly stepping aside.

Lifting her hand, she nudged the air around her fingertips with the Force, sending a ripple of energy outwards where she sensed someone hiding. The stealthed figure flickered into view. Atton Rand stood there looking mildly surprised.

"Now what did you do that for?" he demanded.

"Are you some kind of stalker?" she asked.

"No, that would be Disciple," he corrected.

"Well, you're the one stealthed and peeping on half-naked models," Revan pointed out.

"YOU!!!" Atris boomed furiously at Atton.

"Uh-oh."

"You were told," Atris said, trying to push past Helena without success, "to stay away!" She frowned at Helena, who refused to let go of the white robe. The Handmaidens did not look disturbed at being watched, but were looking to Atris for direction.

"See, here's the thing..."

Atris snarled and shot her hand past Helena, thrusting forth a powerful wave of energy. Revan braced herself, letting the brunt of it roll off of her but it slammed hard into Atton, hurling him onto his behind.

Realizing Atton was not only now out of her sight, but out of range, Atris huffed a bit. She turned her attention to Revan, "Revan, if you wouldn't mind?" She motioned for her to remove him.

"And I should do this because ...?" Revan asked, bristling over being hit with the same attack that left Atton slightly stunned at her feet.

Atris glared at her and then amended, "Please."

"Okay, but you owe me," Revan said, realizing that had probably been very difficult for her and an apology would not be forthcoming. Turning her attention to Atton, she bent over to help him up, "Come on, silly boy."

"Mm, Deception," Atton said, recognizing her perfume. He took her hand, leaning into her and thinking all manner of lurid thoughts at her. "And what else are you wearing under those robes?"

She froze for a second, then released him, letting him fall down again. "OW!" She grabbed him by the back of his puffy jacket collar and dragged him out of the tent. She could swear she heard feline laughter following them.

"You didn't need to do that, " Atton commented, standing up in the rain.

"You will stay away from this tent," Revan intoned, capturing his attention. Atris obviously had issues with modesty and while she suspected Atton was really there for the Handmaidens, she could at least ensure Atris was undisturbed. A non-bitchy Atris would be easier on the Wardrobe staff. "You have somewhere else to be."

"I have somewhere else to be," he repeated. He looked at the time, "Yes, the autograph signing is about to start. I'm having my spot saved in the line. Maybe I can catch you later for a game of ...Pazaak?"

'Pazaak. Right. Is he always this transparent?' Revan wondered. She growled, "I doubt it."

"That's what you say now..." he grinned, heading into the adjacent tent.

Revan followed, curious about who would be signing autographs when the game had not even finished filming.

* * *

Inside, she lost track of Atton in the crowd of people lined up in a queue that snaked around a couple times. She pushed past a trio of Sith assassins, wondering what genius decided that Sith should wear bulky goggles. It made them look like near-sighted ninjas. Who the hell was supposed to be afraid of an assassin with corrective lenses?

Along one side of the tent she saw several tables against each other and an empty table marked Reserved waiting for whoever was signing to arrive. She gathered this was the mess room, but did not see any place to prepare food. Maybe it was shipped in, ready to serve. No gourmet food for The Sith Lords cast and crew, Davik Kang was not supplying catering this time around.

She was about to turn away, not seeing anyone she recognized, but she paused at her name being squealed from across the room. Mission Vao plowed into her and squeezed her in a bearhug.

"Hi!" Revan said, noticing the blue Twi'lek's stylish attire. Mission was wearing a long tailored charcoal coat with red trim, straight across at the shoulders and buttoned at the tummy. Her white button-down shirt collar was folded over her coat. Her leggings were black and her boots were polished to a shine. Revan wondered if she had just come from a modelling shoot.

Mission studied her robes and mask for a moment. "Are you Revan or Darth Revan today?"

"Just Revan; the robes are better for the weather. I've done my scene for this farce. But hey, what are you doing here?"

"I'm here with Dustil," she linked her arm in Revan's and led her to their spot near the front of the line.

They past several bounty hunters, Khoonda militia, TSF officers, Sith assassins, Exchange thugs, Czerka employees, and even General Vaklu and Zherron chatting together. She heard some of the Sith Marauders grumble about Sith Lords jumping the queue, but one menacing hand gesture in their direction silenced them.

"So you're here with Dustil?"

"Oh you!" Mission giggled. "Not like that. We're just friends." She paused dramatically, "I'm his agent."

"No kidding." That explained her spiffy clothes.

"And Big Z's too. I'm trying to sell him on the idea of a shampoo commercial, it will pay big bucks, but he's not keen on it."

"That's putting it mildly," Dustil said, as they reached him.

"Hey Squirt," Revan said. She and Dustil shook hands.

"I'm taller than you now. Maybe its time for a new nickname?"

Revan chuckled and mussed his hair, "I knew you when, Junior. So how's your dad doing?"

"He's doing fine. He's here in line actually," Dustil pointed him out.

Onasi the Elder was indeed standing in line near the other side of the room, his arm around a Zeltron, an important Exchange member supposedly. Lexi, Lexus, Luxa -- something like that, was leaning close to Carth, saying something that made him smile. Revan snickered, "After all that time spent on his own autograph, he's in line for someone else's?"

"No," Dustil corrected, "He's with Luxa, she's the one who wants the autograph."

"Speaking of autographs," Revan turned back to look at the empty, reserved table. "Who is going to be signing?"

Dustil handed her a large booklet made of coated paper. "How archaic," she commented, holding it delicately.

"You and Canderous don't do many signings, do you?" Mission asked, reviewing her agenda on a datapad, "Paper has its uses. Most notably for poster pinups."

Thumbing through the pages, Revan saw the booklet was actually a calendar. All the photos were of the last of the Handmaidens, one of the main characters in the game. In each photo she was wearing a different barely there bikini. One shot, taking up both of the centerfold pages, showed her posed on a chair next to a pool, not wearing anything other than the smile on her face. Strategically placed tropical drinks in each hand blocked the view just enough so she was not completely exposed. Now Revan could see why the lineup was so long.

As she was passing the booklet back to Dustil, the Handmaiden herself entered, flanked by Zaalbar and another Wookiee who kept snarling at the autograph seekers. The crowd cheered, whistled, and clapped as she sat down at her table. She was all business, wearing her white clothes, her hood back.

She beckoned the first person in line to come over as she uncapped her marker. Revan wondered how it was that Atton was first in line. He appeared to be whispering something as she signed. As she pushed back his signed calendar without comment, Zaalbar grabbed him by the shoulder and pushed him towards the exit.

Ahead of them, a blond Jedi, the Disciple, moved forward. "Could you make it out to Mical?" he asked, handing over his calendar.

"As you wish."

"And could you add 'I'll always love you.'?"

"That's pushing it--" Suddenly the Handmaiden's face clouded over and became increasingly angrier as she flipped the pages. Each photo had been digitally altered. While it was the Handmaiden's body, the Exile's head had been superimposed over the Handmaiden's.

"And could you sign it, 'Love Exile'?"

She gritted her teeth and fixed him with an icy glare. Then she simply hissed, "Hanharr!"

The snarling Wookiee lunged over the table at the Disciple, claws extended and spittle flying. The Disciple struggled as he was picked up and carted away, babbling, "What? What did I do? What about my autograph?"

Handmaiden continued to glare.

As Revan, Dustil, and Mission approached, Handmaiden's expression calmed, particularly when she saw Zaalbar was happy to see them. And when Revan and Mission moved aside to stand next to him, her expression turned warm and she even smiled at Dustil's charm.

Revan scanned the crowd again and Dustil soon nudged her they were ready to go.

"So are you going to visit Canderous?" Mission asked as they walked outside.

"Yes, but I need to see HK-47 first."

"Oh, the freak," Dustil nodded. "Happily I have not seen him."

"I'm sure I'll find him soon," Revan replied, as they parted ways. She watched them go, then headed to the next and last tent to see if her assassin droid was there.

* * *

When she pulled open the door, reading Hair & Makeup in Basic and Huttese, she was immediately greeted by Jolee Bindo. "Come on in, kid. Don't just stand there gaping, you'll let all the rain in." He pulled her inside, "You're just in time."

He led her over to the row of chairs in front of the lighted mirrors. She dropped her heavy cargo bag onto an empty chair. "Why don't you take off your mask and stay awhile? And what's in the bag?"

"Guns and ammo," she said, sticking her hands into her hood to unclasp her mask. As she pulled the mask away, she shook her head, letting her hood fall back. Her auburn hair had been braided, like it had been during the first game, but a few strands were dislodged from removing the mask. She pushed them back behind her ears. She dropped the mask on her bag.

She looked past Jolee and saw the room was full of Jedi. Everyone's attention was on Master Zez-Kai Ell, seated on one of the chairs with a large swath of white fabric draped around him and tied at the neck, leaving only his head exposed. He looked a little nervous. Master Vandar stood in the chair next to him, chuckling to himself. Master Vrook stood behind Vandar's chair. Revan was shocked to see he actually looked amused. Master Dorak was standing by with a camera and Master Kavar was preparing something in front of the mirror.

Revan looked at Master Vandar a little more closely, something was different about him. Aside from the fact she'd never seen him giddy before.

Jolee smiled as she tried to pinpoint what it was, she had opened her mouth, but it wasn't coming out. "Hair," he prompted.

Indeed, Master Vandar definitely had tufts of blondish hair around his large green ears. "No...." Revan said in disbelief.

"He's joined Saul Karath's Hair Club for Men treatment program." He leaned towards her and muttered, "I think its silly, but don't tell him I said so." They moved closer to the other Jedi.

"Ah, my dear Revan has appeared," said a familiar voice. At the end of the row of chairs stood the makeup expert, Master Zhar. Beside the Twi'lek Jedi, almost obscured by the mirrors was a shirtless, buff, normal-hued Sion, without his artificial eye.

"Think you can handle the lovely lady watching too?" Sion asked, his accented voice low.

"The more the merrier," Zez-Kai Ell replied, good-naturedly.

"What's the occasion?" Revan asked.

"He lost a bet," Vrook said simply, as if that explained everything.

Vandar started laughing out loud, "Challenge ME to an eating contest, will you?"

"I'm ready," Kavar announced, turning around with a barber razor in one hand. "Now it all comes off!"

"Any last words?" Dorak asked, snapping a Before photo, "For the record?"

"Well I am rather fond of my mustache, so I will be sad to see it go. The rest of the hair I'm not worried about, but the mustache...I'm not sure LucasArts will be too thrilled though."

"Not to worry," Zhar replied, "We have your wigs ready!"

"And so it begins," Kavar said, as he took the razor to the mass of brown hair.

"Oooh," the room chorused as the cut hair fell.

A short while later, the deed was done and everyone clapped. The newly shorn Jedi rubbed his smooth head and face. "It will take some getting used to," he admitted. "At least I still have my earrings!"

"Now you will be handsome like me!" Sion guffawed.

"Speaking of handsome," Zhar said, "We need to try this corpse battlescar makeup on you again. I think I've got the adhesive consistency right this time."

"One moment," Sion said, walking around the assembled Jedi as Dorak snapped a photo of the finished look.

"Revan," Sion said approaching to shake her hand. "You were grand in Knights of the Old Republic. I wish we could have had some scenes together, that would be brilliant."

"Yes it would," she agreed, admiring first his accent, then his chest. He had been bodybuilding intensely for the role and was sexy without the covering of dried blood, scars, and the ashen hue. HK-47 had gone on at length about how hot he was, but she had not seen him in person before. She had to agree; he was gorgeous. And he was right, if she had any say, they would have had some cool dramatic scenes together.

"How about a photo?" he asked, motioning for Dorak to come over. He put his arm around her and smiled, giving a thumbs up sign towards the camera.

Revan smiled also, putting two fingers up behind his head in a V shape.

After the photo was taken and Sion headed back to Zhar, Revan went back to her bag. Jolee watched her. "Guns and ammo, eh? For anyone I know?"

"Maybe," she said, picking up the bag and stuffing her mask inside. As she waved goodbye, she had a feeling he knew who the bag was for, but she didn't care to hear comments about it.

* * *

As Hair & Makeup was the last tent, she made her way up the back of the pyramid and entered the back door. Inside was illuminated with recessed torch lighting, but it was still rather dark. She passed the downwards sloping walkway that led beneath the surface to Freedon Nadd's tomb and continued past several remote cameras to the spot where the path broke off in three directions.

She stopped to weigh her options. The path directly ahead led to the front entrance, so she considered the paths to her right and left. She could hear noises to the right, so she headed that way. As she rounded the curve, she could see the makeshift Droid Workshop in the chamber ahead; that was her destination. Sith Lords had a penchant for droid guardians, so their burial tombs always had a droid hub. The production had temporarily commandeered this one.

Her energy-armed Zabrak buddy, Bao-Dur was in his element, his Remote floating behind him. The Workshop contained damaged medical droids and HK-50 units waiting for repair. A cleaning droid was rolling by on its rounds and several war droids stood deactivated along the walls.

In the centre of the room was her copper coloured assassin droid, seated on a bench while Bao-Dur made some adjustments to his neck connections. HK-47 must have been commenting on Bao-Dur's work, because Bao-Dur sounded annoyed.

"I've told you several times, I know what I'm doing- "

"GIRLFRIEND!" HK-47 nearly shrieked, seeing Revan approach. He stood up suddenly, extending his arms in greeting, managing to clip Bao-Dur on the shoulder in the process. The Zabrak fell over the bench, limbs sprawling and his tools scattering on the floor. Remote twittered in concern, but the assassin droid did not notice.

"Hi there!" Revan smiled. She turned to Bao-Dur, "Are you okay?"

"Yes," he said collecting his tools, "A little warning next time you stop by, hmm?"

"Sorry about that." She turned to her droid, "You know what today is?"

"You remembered!" HK-47 clasped his hands together in delight.

Bao-Dur looked confused.

"It is officially your birthday, so I brought you a present."

"Great," Bao-Dur muttered as HK-47 made a squealing noise.

Revan opened her cargo bag, lifting out a large heavy rifle. A newly minted Systech assault rifle of the latest design, it was a powerful and expensive weapon.

It was also bright pink.

For a second, HK-47 did not know whether to touch the rifle or Revan. Then he stepped forward and grabbed her in a crushing bearhug. Overcome with gratitude, he slipped back into his original subservient speech patterns and sighed, "Master!"

"Mark that one down," Bao-Dur said to Remote. "A pink rifle! Must have cost a fortune."

"I'm glad you like it," she said when he released her to snatch the rifle. He ran around the room, looking for a mirror to admire himself in.

"And for you," Revan said, reaching back into her bag for a sealed oblong container. She opened the container in front of Bao-Dur, "Would you like a cookie?"

"No thanks, I'm trying to keep my girlish figure." He paused while Revan closed the container again and replaced it in her cargo bag. "Just kidding."

"Mm-hm," she replied as Remote chirped in amusement.

They sat down on the bench together. "Without you here he's probably going to use that at some point," Bao-Dur pointed out.

"Yes, he probably will."

"You seem unconcerned."

"Look how happy he is," she said, watching the droid strut around, posing. "He spends most of the game disassembled, he was ticked off about that. This will keep him from slipping into demanding diva mode."

"That can't be any worse than petulant child mode. And he's already been there. Look what he did to Goto!" Bao-Dur turned and pointed out the badly dented and partially crushed spherical droid propped up on a crate. Exposed wiring was visible through one opening in the plating.

"The Fat One deserved it," HK-47 stated. Remote bobbed up and down in agreement.

"He's just a deejay droid with a limited range of speech and projection features. How could he deserve it?" Bao-Dur got up and inspected Goto. Just as having a real Hutt posted too many problems in the first game, having a real crime boss for the sequel did as well.

"Tough music critics!" Revan commented, "Can he be fixed in time?"

"I have my doubts and he still has scenes to be filmed. I'm the only Droid Wrangler on this production," he gestured to the other inactive droids, "and they need attention too."

"Oh. Well. I'd better leave you to it then," Revan scooped up her now lighter cargo bag. "Are either of you being filmed soon?"

"No one's being filmed right now," he explained. "All the Obsidian staff were called away."

"No good looking guys anyway," HK-47 added.

"Probably pushing the deadline up again," Bao-Dur said grimly.

"Then I really better let you go," she headed for the doorway. "Coming HK?"

"I'm going to show everyone my new toy!" HK-47 exclaimed, rushing past her.

"Ciao!" she called to Bao-Dur, who waved goodbye.

* * *

HK-47 was already out of sight as she headed to the tomb entrance. Just outside the main doorway, she could see Malak standing next to Mira. She had a feeling at some point he would be hitting on the redhead, but Mira appeared untroubled by his attention.

"And what would be the name of this reality show?" the bounty hunter asked.

"The Dark Apprentice," Malak said enthusiastically. "Each week two Sith teams will compete in specific tasks and the losing team will meet me in the duelling arena. Calo and Lashowe Nord will be my eyes and ears on the task and based on their input I'll choose who to fire. Or kill. Just think of the advertising! Who will fail and who will become the Dark Apprentice?"

"Lashowe?" Mira said thoughtfully, "She doesn't strike me as an authority figure."

"Oh she's become quite the harpy since marrying Calo."

"What will be your gimmick?" Mira continued, "Big hair or something?"

"The jaw, of course!" He held the prop jaw up, "It's a pain to wear, but it made me famous!"

Revan passed by them unnoticed, shuffling down the steps. "The Sith Channel is pumping tons of credits into the project. So would you be interested in an appearance on the show?" Revan reached the bottom of the steps and was now out of hearing range, so she missed Mira's reply.

* * *

Surprisingly, it had stopped raining. Ahead of her she could see Darth Nihilus and Visas Marr standing near the damaged freighter at the edge of the marsh. An HK-50 unit was filming Visas with a small camera. Several cameras were set up around the entire area, as only this side of the tomb would be shown in the game.

Darth Nihilus was supposed to be the big villain for The Sith Lords. LucasArts wanted him and his unique voice, but when the translation devices they had supplied turned out to be defective, whole monologues had to be cut since they could not produce subtitles. Despite this, he had still been able to convince Obsidian he should direct the production because of his "artistic Sith vision".

Unfortunately, the only person who could understand him was his wife and personal assistant, Visas. Since she did not share his ...vision, she had problems translating the finer points he wished to convey. It was a wonder anything was communicated at all between his incoherency and her disinterest.

Revan tried to walk by without them noticing, but Nihilus saw her and motioned her over. The HK-50 droid pushed the camera in her face, "Excited salutations, Jedi Revan!"

Nihilus produced a synthesized growling noise that made Revan wonder if he was actually speaking with his mouth or if his mask was just amplifying the sounds of his stomach growling. He was the Lord of Hunger after all.

"He asks if you will say a few words for the unlockable behind-the-scenes documentary?" Visas translated, facing the wrong way and directing her words to thin air.

Revan thought a moment, then rested one hand on the Lord of Hunger's shoulder as she began reciting a short war poem in Mandalorian, knowing full well neither of them understood Mandalorian. She put her other hand on his chest and walked her fingers slowly upwards, speaking in a suggestive tone.

Visas yawned in boredom, but whirled around suddenly when she sensed Nihilus was enjoying more than just the recital. "Revan? What are you ...doing?"

Ignoring her, Revan reached up and stroked his chin and the edges of his mask. Visas started to seethe when there was no reply and she clenched her fists.

As Revan concluded the poem it appeared she was about to kiss Nihilus, he was even leaning towards her, but just as Visas started forward to forcibly break them up, Revan let go. "There you go," she said, switching back to Basic and walking away.

Nihilus stared at her, unsure of what had just happened, but Visas fumed. "What was that all about?"

Revan chuckled to herself, but did not turn back. Visas did not specify the words had to be in Basic, she really should have been clear about that.

Visas turned to the HK-50, "What was she saying?"

"Appreciative interpretation. Jedi Revan was reciting a Mandalorian war poem. The main theme was doing one's best in any situation to achieve victory."

"You lie!" Visas declared, "That was no war poem!" She turned to Nihilus, "And you! You were enjoying it, you unfaithful Gammorean!"

* * *

Revan reached the edges of the Sith Camp, where she could not hear them any longer. Kreia and the Exile were practising their lines here. Revan frowned at Exile with her perfectly coiffed black hair with the single braid down the side. Exile with her perfectly exotic almond shaped eyes. Exile with her perfect Daddy's money that bought her this role. Trying to be nice, she thought she should at least go say hello, she had to pass them anyway.

"I want to build a lightsaber!" Exile said eagerly.

"Indeed? A Jedi tool -- and a Sith weapon. And why do you need such a thing?" Kreia seemed a little stiff, but as her back was to Revan, it wasn't obvious how off her performance was.

"The lightsaber is a symbol of the Jedi! It inspires others, gives them hope!" Exile proclaimed happily, making Revan's stomach turn in response to the saccharine delivery.

"Then listen to me. There is much weight, much craving attached to such a tiny thing of light - -"

"Kreia!" Exile interrupted, "Please don't roll your eyes, its distracting! Oh hello, Revan!"

Kreia turned around, she looked as disinterested as ever. She was not wearing her special opaque lenses. "And you speak of me as a distraction." She lit up a cigarra.

"So Revan, are you here to watch me work? I'm very busy but I suppose I could give you an interview, maybe a free autograph."

Revan ground her teeth, instantly regretting her decision. She smiled thinly. "No, I'm here to visit Cand--" she caught herself, realizing Exile could not separate the person from their role. "Mandalore."

"Mandalore?" Exile repeated, confused that Revan was not pandering to her. "Oh, him. He's a party pooper. He doesn't want to hear about my upcoming fashion line or my singing career."

"Nobody does," Kreia commented, blowing smoke towards Exile's face.

"He has important work at the Mandalorian camp. Deadlines you know," Revan replied, thinking, 'Plus he can't stand self-aggrandizement from no-talent bubbleheads.'

"Well, I'm far more important--" Exile's attention was suddenly on the edge of the marsh. "A boma beast! I must get it!" She ran off, brandishing a vibroblade.

Revan turned to the older woman, "I can't believe this schutta is starring in the sequel. Each time I meet her I want to throttle her!"

"Yes, she does evoke that reaction. Storyline aside, she has none of your talent or ability to command respect. She has no concept of repartee or restraint. A product of the marketing machine, she believes her own hype. I can teach her nothing."

"I heard your delivery, what was up with that?" Revan asked.

"A simple tactic to annoy her," Kreia explained. "I will put forth the correct effort during filming. Though I am unsure of my lines for the finale. The script was unpolished, I suspect a rewrite is in the works."

"Yes Bao-Dur mentioned something about the deadline."

"It is all speculation, no official word yet," she waved her hand, the smoke from her cigarra making a circle. "By the way, I saw your droid run by with that hideous rifle just before you arrived. One might say you gave him it, knowing he would use it improperly at some point, as a way of getting back at Obsidian for not making the sequel about you."

"Hm," Revan smiled, "That's an interesting theory."

"Yes, of course," Kreia smiled knowingly to herself.

Revan turned to watch the Exile hack away at the boma, but she suddenly glanced back towards Nihilus and Visas, they were still arguing. Nihilus waved his arms dramatically and Visas stabbed her finger through the air at him. She could hear their raised voices, but not discern the words. The HK-50 unit moved closer with the camera, now almost in their faces. Visas turned and blasted the droid with Force lightning and then a Force attack that destroyed it completely. The camera was also incinerated.

Revan grinned, that had worked out even better than she had expected.

"Hah!" Kreia snorted, "So much for the absurd documentary. I am relieved, now we will not have to do the musical number he was planning."

"Musical number?" Revan blinked. "I don't want to know."

"Did you see that?" Exile asked, returning. "That boma is history!"

"No actually, I was watching Visas." Revan said, wearily.

"Yes, you have to watch her. Miralukas are creepy," Exile said in a low voice. "Just like that mechanic, Bob Dur."

"It's Bao-Dur," Revan said through gritted teeth.

"What is?" Exile asked blankly.

With a supreme act of willpower, Revan turned away in disgust. "I have to go," she said stalking off.

Exile called after her, "See you later!"

* * *

As Revan tramped through the jungle heading to the Mandalorian camp, she tried to calm down, loosen the tension building in her jaw. No amount of exercises worked, but when she arrived at the Mandalorian camp, her mood brightened instantly.

The Mandalorians were an easy-going bunch of guys, interested in their roles, but not as interested in the construction of their sets, which they were technically responsible for. They were clustered together at the battle circle, all in full armour, practicing their choreography for their fighting techniques.

She could see Canderous was not with them, but she headed over anyway to watch them work. At the edge of the circle, she elbowed her way forward to see the action, but they stopped just as soon as they all saw her.

"Revan!" The scout hunter, Kelborn, was the first among the chorus of greetings.

"Howdy."

The battle circle champion, Bralor, stepped out from the other side, onto the worn down grass in the centre, "Why don't you join us? We can have an exhibition tournament. We'd love to fight with you again."

"Not today boys, sorry." Revan opened her cargo bag, "But I do have some treats if you are interested."

"Beer and nachos?" Kex, the quartermaster asked hopefully. "We could sure use that!"

"Not quite," Revan said, opening her container and offering the cookies.

Hands from all directions were suddenly grabbing for the cookies. But an instant later the Mandalorians were all chuckling as they realized the helmets had to come off before they could eat. They pulled off their helmets en masse to consume the treats.

"Excellent!" Kelborn announced.

"You make the best cookies!" Xarga, the training officer agreed.

"Cookies worthy of a warrior!" Tagren the soldier proclaimed.

"Decadent chocolate," Bralor added. "You should visit more often."

Revan closed the container, there were a few cookies left. "I'll try. Is Canderous with his project?"

"Yep," Zuka, the tech said through a mouthful of cookie, thumbing towards the hangar.

"Then that's where I'm headed," she said waving. A chorus of goodbyes and thank-yous followed her.

It was a short distance to the hangar, but on the way she caught a glimpse of Atton and Disciple together by the relay dish, playing Pazaak. She was pleased he had suckered someone else into playing; that meant she was off the hook, he wouldn't ask her again.

Heading inside the hangar, she soon saw Canderous, out of armour, in short sleeves and dark pants. He liked the armour, but not when he was building his Basilisk. He seemed to be working on the final stages. The production was going to use a painting and computer imaging, but Canderous was building a real one. It kept him busy and sane during periods of no filming. Exile was not far off when she called him a party pooper; he tried to avoid his co-stars as much as possible.

Parts and tools and crates formed a semi-circle around him, she moved around them and dropped her cargo bag on an unoccupied crate. Walking up behind him, she ran one hand through his short gray hair.

He turned and grinned, but she was on him in an instant, her lips against his in a wet kiss hello. She kept her arms around him in a tight embrace, oblivious to everything but his warmth, his scent, his dirty mind, and his arms around her. This was what made the whole trip to this stupid moon worthwhile.

He finally spoke first, "I didn't hear your shuttle."

"It's over on the other side. You know the rules, no parking on the sets. But that's what made it such a good surprise!"

He moved one hand down her back, and she thought he was going for her rear, but he suddenly gripped her tighter, pulling her behind him as he reached for his blaster rifle with his free hand. "Bloody cannoks!" he said, opening fire on the hangar entrance.

Leaning sideways to peek around him, she saw two charred cannok corpses framing the entrance. Chunks of the doorway arch were missing.

"This is getting ridiculous!" he griped, dropping his gun back down on the crate. "Not only are the buggers running off with props, they're eating the sets too!"

"Luckily you're not scheduled to be here much longer."

"No kidding. If the deadline gets pushed up any more, I have serious doubts the filming will be finished. At least my Basilisk will get completed." He turned to admire his handiwork.

After a moment of appreciation of the huge war droid, Revan stated, "Guess what? I made cookies."

"You made cookies? You?"

"It's that ancient Sith recipe HK-47 helped me find in the Korriban academy library." She passed him one, "Double Dark Side Deluxe!"

"Cookies of great evil!" he smiled, sampling it.

"You don't know the power of the Dark Side until you've tried these!" she laughed. "Your crew loved them."

"With these cookies I could unite the clans without effort! No one can resist--" he was cut off by the sound of nearby gunfire.

They rushed to the hangar entrance in time to hear HK-47 cackle, "Die Mini-Meatbags!" while firing at a group of boma beasts that had wandered into the area.

When finished with them, he looked up and ran towards Atton and Disciple, shooting at their feet, making them hop and dance to avoid his gunfire. Pazaak cards flew up in the air like confetti around them. "Dance, bitches!" he called, enjoying their screams of protest.

Canderous surveyed the scene before them and then declared, "Nothing good can come of this."

"My thoughts exactly. Now let's get a drink and watch it get interesting."

Fin.