You know how the worst things in life tend to happen the moment you just start to feel relaxed? Hobbie Klivian's retirement was something like that. Six months of retirement so far, and he had only just gotten over the restlessness typical of a newly retired fighter jock. The last thing Hobbie expected was a holocall from Wes Janson and Tycho Celchu. It wasn't that they never talked anymore. Hobbie had remained in contact with a great number of his war buddies, among them Wes, Tycho, and Wedge Antilles, but their holocalls almost never rang with the "Urgent" tone. He sighed and rose from his couch with a grunt of effort.

'Oh, what now?' he groused. He was just starting to enjoy retirement again after the Second Galactic Civil War. Hobbie stood up to straighten out his clothes and hair before activating the projector on his coffee table. Two men materialized before him, both in casual wear, one wearing an expression of restrained mirth and the other utterly deadpan.

'Wes, Tycho, what's going on?'

Wes Janson was about the same age as Hobbie, but unlike Hobbie, Wes' features remained infuriatingly youthful. How did he do it? 'You didn't get the memo, Hobbie?' Wes looked irritatingly smug today. Something was very definitely wrong.

'No,' Hobbie said, a trace of trepidation creeping into his voice. 'Wes, don't mess with me here. You marked the call as urgent.'

'We're being reactivated,' Tycho said. 'It's back to work for us.'

Hobbie buried his face in his palm. 'Oh, come on,' he complained, 'it's only been six months since the war ended. Are you telling me we've got another war on our hands?'

Wes paused to consider his answer. 'Not exactly,' he said with a sheepish expression.

'Are we training rookies again, then?'

'No,' Tycho said. 'I do suspect, however, that it may have something to do with boosting enlistment rates.'

'Alright, what is it, then?'

'Have you ever heard of a certain pokey little piloting show on the Imperial Broadcasting Channel?' Wes asked.

'Yeah,' Hobbie said. 'Why?'

'And do you remember when Alliance command last spoke to us? With the contract?'

'Yeeeeees…?' Hobbie responded slowly. He didn't like where this was going.

Tycho raised an eyebrow. 'Did you ever read the fine print?'

Hobbie shrugged. 'No, I figured it was the usual mumbo jumbo about honorable service and a pardon for opposing Daala and Darth Caedus. Wh—'

And then it hit him like a bull rancor.

'No. No. NO.' Hobbie started putting things together. 'You mean the papers we signed—?'

Wes nodded gravely.

'And the credit chit they gave us-?'

'Oyah,' said Wes, bobbing his head like an Agamarian native.

'Oh no. Oh no.' Hobbie looked at them with horror. 'You mean we're really—?'

Wes opened his jacket to reveal a casual tunic underneath. On the shirt, there sat an image of a gear, with a certain piloting program's title written off to its side with a little 'Galactic Alliance' subtitle.

'When do we even start filming?' Hobbie asked, still in shock.

'Tonight,' said Tycho. The Alderaanian general pulled a datapad from a trouser pocket. 'I've taken the liberty of e-mailing you the script for our first episode. Get cleaned up and meet us at Aurek Base in two hours.'

'Tonight!' Wes exclaimed, 'Hobbie Klivian tests out Incom's newest X-wing model. Tycho Celchu and I build a light freighter from scratch! And our tame racing pilot tries public transit!'

Hobbie furrowed his brow. 'Wait, "tame racing pilot"? Who's the fourth guy on our team?'

Wes gave him an arch look. 'Come on, Hobbie. Who do you think?'

For the briefest instance, the barest hint of a smile passed Tycho's face. He tapped a couple of buttons on his own holo-projector and displayed the image of a man in full, face-concealing TIE fighter flight gear. 'Some say that the A-Wing was the result of a sordid affair between him and a TIE Fighter. Others say that he hops on one transparisteel leg. All we know is he's called ST-166.'

'I hate that.'

Wes grinned and pulled a stuffed Ewok from somewhere outside the holo-projector's visual range. 'Yub yub, Major Klivian.'