A FORNAX PRODUCTION

By: Mothbanquet

Scene One

Thousands of stars filled the window; a vast sea of tiny white specks that slid across the great void with a soothing lethargy.

The window itself was a glaring structural weakness, Iu'Sa noted dourly as her milky eyes scanned the bulkhead and the quarian wanted to shake her head at such an obvious indulgence. Given the turian cruiser's size however, she supposed that such a small gap in their defences could not be so easily exploited. Perhaps she finally had to admit to herself that the ship had cast a spell over her, so reluctant was she to acknowledge its flaws and then so quick to excuse them.

Her curiosity was only heightened as she glanced around the large cabin. Turians were usually the first ones to sacrifice comfort for operational efficiency and never would she have dreamed that one of their captains could desire such an extravagant surplus of personal space. After the cramped, crowded decks of the Eline, the liberation Iu'Sa felt at being able to stretch her lithe muscles was exhilarating and she pressed her arms out in front of her with an almost wondrous sense of glee.

The captain padded softly across the cabin, her exosuit creaking gently while the richly embroidered fabric of her violet hood rippled in the wake of a ventilation current overhead. Her slim hand stretched out to caress one of the fine ornamental tapestries that hid the sterile bulkheads and savoured the touch of woven alien cloth, as if she could feel it even beneath the suit.

A particularly stunning piece hung before her, a scene of some distant war fought before the turians had even left their home world of Palaven. A heroic officer was depicted, holding aloft a primitive firearm as he rallied his men around him. Below, a large plaque detailed commanding officers in their hundreds, and Iu'Sa realised the legion that had graciously granted her an audience must have been centuries, if not millennia old. Again the excesses of this ship's captain stunned her and Iu'sa had to pry herself away before one of the officers could arrive and accuse her of trying to steal the relic.

A control panel at the entrance to the cabin chimed, startling her. She braced herself to receive company but the door remained still and after a few moments of tension, she relaxed.

'Keelah,' she whispered under her breath as she brought a hand to her visor in embarrassment,'if it wasn't so quiet here I wouldn't be jumping at the smallest sound.' She ambled back to the window and stared absently into the black depths. 'Some captain I am. The first exchange between turian and quarian warships in over a century that doesn't end with them chasing us out of the system and I'm gaping at every little thing like a damn kid on her Pilgrimage.'

'You know, talking to yourself is the first stage of space-cabin fever,' said a deep voice behind her.

Iu'Sa gasped audibly and spun on her heels. She hadn't heard the cabin door open and she fought not to show her surprise at the interruption.

'I-I assume you are the great General Maximus?' she asked, her voice trembling despite her best efforts.

The turian who faced her grinned, spreading strong mandibles the colour of charred wood. His face was painted, like most of his kind, with a sharp yet delicate white pattern that traced every contour of his features. He wore no armour, opting instead for a straight-lined, mahogany-hued suit that hugged his muscular physique. His obvious strength resonated in his voice and the warm flanging of his vocal chords sent a flutter through Iu'Sa's stomach.

'General Naughtius Maximusat your service,' he said with a shallow bow. 'I see my reputation precedes me.'

'It was hard not to hear of your famous exploits in...' the quarian paused and Maximus smiled further at the blush that rose faintly beneath her helmet, '...Nubian's Expanse.'

Maximus chuckled and stepped forward, stopping mere inches from Iu'Sa. The general was a head taller than her, and he lowered his voice to a husky drawl that made her shudder with excitement. 'I believe the correct term is the Nubian Expanse, my good captain. Besides, those stories are mostly exaggerated.'

'Oh, is that so, General?' Iu'Sa said in mock surprise. 'From what I hear, the actions you fought in those regions were very...heated...indeed. They say your broadside was at least twice the size of your enemy's.'

'It doesn't matter how many guns you field,' he answered, 'only how long your range is.'

To her astonishment, Iu'Sa found she could not move. Her body tingled with delight as the general brought his hands up to her face and, with infinite care, slowly drew back her hood. 'General Maximus,' she whispered shakily, 'I thought you wanted to conduct goodwill negotiations?'

Maximus cupped her face and stared into her eyes. 'I was thinking more of a...thrusting advance...'

Iu'Sa gasped as the general's fingers brushed against the curves of her suit, pulling her body into his. She couldn't understand it; her nerve stim suite was not even active and yet her abdomen clenched tightly at his touch, the muscles bunching and releasing in waves of undiluted ecstasy. Maximus' rough hands moved down to her suit seals but went no further.

'It's all right,' she murmured as she sensed his hesitation, 'I made the necessary…preparations…'

He parted her suit at the hips and smiled hungrily at the sheen of protective clear steri-film beneath. 'I see you like to keep these negotiations...under wraps.'

Maximus' bed was large and the sheets were folded with military precision. Their perfect, crisp lines were ruined as the pair eased themselves down and the cabin grew heavy with the sounds of Iusa's soft, yearning moans.

'Captain,' Maximus said under his breath, his hand reaching beneath her suit, 'your scent is as a summer breeze in the fine parks of Cipritine.' His fingers reached down as Iu'Sa arched her back. 'Your skin is as soft as the-'

'Cut!' cried out a strained voice.

Ganorn rose to his feet, gracelessly levering himself off the young quarian beneath him, and stared angrily at his director. For his part, the human returned his glare with little more than a cocked eyebrow.

'Garn, when I said "feel free to change a word or two", I didn't mean go off on a literary bender about how nice the gardens of Palaven are this time of year. I just meant try and act naturally for a bloody change. Or as naturally as you can get without cutting open your head and installing a new brain, preferably belonging to someone who actually can act.'

'Act?' Ganorn bit back. 'Act? You think this pathetic collection of double entendres qualifies as a script worthy of my talents? I've seen better examples of literature scrawled across bathroom walls on Omega!'

'All right then,' Freeman sighed, raising his eyebrows as if in deep contemplation. 'Let me say this another way. Either you finally pull off a take we can actually use in the bloody movie or I'll have you thrown off set and brutally hacked to death with a large knife.'

The turian raised his hands defensively. 'For the last time, if you expect me to utter another bawdy remark about the size of my 'main gun' then I swear I will march right out the door. My agent explained all this to you last week, Freeman, and I won't waste my time with this degrading filth any further if you insist on perpetuating these revolting stereotypes. I mean, for one…' Ganorn strode to one of the prop tapestries lining the set, '…this scene here. Every turian knows that General Antonidus commanded the Eighth Legion, not the Fifth! If you must use such timeless icons of our history then-'

'Look, you bird-necked cretin!' Freeman snapped as he ran a hand through his curly black hair, 'Nobody cares about which group of malnourished malcontents your inbred distant uncles cajoled into joining that collection of reformed war criminals you call the Hierarchy. Just because Mister Antonidus killed enough whining secessionists to earn himself a spot with his face safely buried in the Primarch's groin, doesn't change the fact that all you need to do is keep your mouth shut and bang the supple young quarian in front of you.'

Though Freeman couldn't be certain, Ganorn seemed to have grown pale with anger and the turian took several deep breaths, his nostril slits flaring widely. 'How dare you!' he hissed. 'This is totally unacceptable! I am Ganorn Firaxis! I have won awards on Palaven and Thessia for my portrayal of Hanzar Kuul! I am of the distinguished Cipritine Artists Guild and I do not deserve this!'

Pulling on his clothes, the actor stormed off set, bringing with him a trail of white linen as the sheets snagged in his trousers.

Meekly, the young quarian actress pushed herself from the bed and began to fasten the catches on her suit. 'Um…Mister Freeman?' Kia'Toresh Nar Qwib Qwibasked tentatively. 'May I take a break? I mean, if that's all right?'

'Hm? Oh yes, and you might as well take that suit of yours to the laundrette while you're at it, Kia. The way Garn's acting – and I use the term very loosely in his case – we'll be lucky to get this bloody scene finished before the local star goes supernova.'

'He does seem very angry,' Kia said as she shuffled nervously off set. 'I hope he comes around soon.'

'Fat chance of that,' Freeman scoffed. A swell of noise had risen around him as the crew discussed their business and the small cast rehearsed the few lines they had. It sounded far more industrious than it actually was and for a moment Freeman considered simply setting up the next scene in spite of Ganorn's absence.

'Another day wasted,' he muttered. 'And for the record, the Cipritine Artists Guild chucked him out years ago. Did you know that, Xantar?'

The elcor, who had remained patiently silent up until this point, let out a deep, rumbling sigh. 'Wearily; no.'

'It's true. They were holding their annual gathering when Garn burst into the establishment completely drunk and very, very naked save for a very, very small hat. Normally I'd say that's par for the course as far as turians go but they just so happened to be hosting an event with the respectable Dalinaga Theatrical Company of Thessia and in the space of fourteen minutes, Garn had molested a matriarch, urinated in the Serrice brandy and passed out in Master of Ceremonies' lap. Ordinarily I'd give the man a medal but he still maintains this feeble charade of still being someone of note in the turian acting fraternity.'

Xantar shook his head slowly. 'With brutal honesty: you are blowing this out of proportion again, John. Ganorn is a classically trained actor forced into pornography, it is to be expected that he will take time to adjust. He merely wishes to preserve some of his former dignity. Tentative suggestion; it may help if you correctly pronounce his name.'

'What are you talking about?'

'With mild frustration; you have called him Garn since his arrival. His name is Ganorn. Perhaps if you maintain the illusion of respect, he would be much easier to work with.'

Freeman waved his hand dismissively. 'Perhaps he should've made that a little clearer on his head shots, instead of taking up the entire page with his big, fat, bird-necked cranium. I mean here I am, trying to make a true masterpiece of erotic cinema, something the galaxy has never seen the likes of before, and I find myself foiled by a washed up old sod who still thinks he has some sort of relevance in the intergalactic acting community. Having one of the greats of turian theatre should have been a creative coup for us. Instead we're running so far behind schedule the salarians are being forced to discover another layer of space-time continuum just to keep up.'

Xantar shifted impatiently and his mouth flaps twitched in irritation. Sometimes humans were so difficult to work with. So impatient were they, their emotions a veritable whirlwind at times. Still, the producer had a job to do and he turned away from Freeman as his voice rumbled. 'Pointed dismissal; please excuse me, John. I must go and meet the one person keeping this movie afloat. Milana Orenya is coming here to personally oversee things and I must explain to her that yet another day has passed without result. Worriedly; when Fornax is forced to send one of its executives over to intervene, it usually spells trouble for the director.'

Freeman forced a smile as Xantar lumbered away. 'Oh, don't worry about me, dear friend. I think you'll find I have everything under control.'

~~AFP~~

Kia sighed heavily and adjusted the immuno-boosters on her exosuit. At this rate she would not need them, she thought to herself as she perched on the edge of a hard chair. At her side, on a small table, stood specialised refreshments in the shape of water, energy drinks and tubes of completely unappetising nutrient paste. After a moment of indecision, she reached for one of the water bottles and looked down uncertainly.

Her suit was not the one she had been gifted by her mother. Twitching nervously, she ran a hand along the strange material and quietly marvelled at the expense Fornax would surely have incurred in making it. Her own people would have had to amass a fortune to pay for one of this quality, though the sealed slits between her legs made its purpose too obvious for the ensemble to be worn outside the studio. It seemed quarians were much-valued in the field of galactic erotica, certainly enough to have their needs tailored to in such a way.

'This one is concerned with your downcast expression, Kia,' spoke a light voice at her side. 'Is something wrong?'

Kia looked up to see Pallo floating patiently next to her. Though the hanar had no facial features whatsoever, she sensed his concern keenly and smiled beneath the thick glass of her visor. 'It's nothing, Pallo. I just have a bit of a stomach ache is all.'

'It would hate to make reckless assumptions, but have you been eating properly?'

'Maybe not as much as I should,' Kia replied and clutched a hand to her stomach absently. 'The thing is, the suit feels tight enough as it is and, you know how the camera bot adds ten pounds…'

'This is not good for you, not when you are shooting so many scenes,' Pallo interrupted gently. 'It humbly submits that you should consume more before you do yourself harm. Please, Kia, if not for yourself, then for this one.'

Shyly, the quarian fumbled with her induction ports before nodding slowly. 'All right. I kept the leftover nutrient paste from last night anyway. Thank you, Pallo. I guess I just needed some sense talked into me.'

A soft, shimmering tentacle rested delicately on her shoulder. 'It senses you are unhappy. Is it Ganorn's behaviour?'

'No…' Kia sighed. Her fingers fidgeted in her lap, constantly folding over one another in an awkward dance. 'I was just thinking of home, that's all. My parents, my friends, I can't imagine what they'd say if they knew I was doing this.'

'Ah yes, your 'Pilgrimage'? It is sure they will understand. No doubt there have been many others who have been forced down certain paths to pay their way back to their people. It cannot be helped.'

'I wish I had your optimism,' Kia sighed. 'Right now I'd give anything to be back home, dancing with my friends, or listening to my father tell another boring story about his days fighting batarian pirates. It's strange how you end up missing the small things when you leave.'

The tip of Pallo's body flashed with a gentle light and he raised a tentacle thoughtfully. 'Homesickness is a powerful instrument of loyalty. It thinks that you will not remember these days when you are safely back among your people. Either way, you will certainly not be poor among them.'

'I guess you're right,' she replied and her pale eyes narrowed slightly under the soft pressure of her smile. 'I really needed to hear that, Pallo. Thank you.'

Pallo straightened. His tone became more polite even than usual and Kia wanted to giggle at his mock formality. 'This one considers you a friend, Kia'Toresh. It would be rude not to meddle in your affairs.'

The companions laughed quietly as the noise of the studio washed over them.

~~AFP~~

'Who does he think he is?' Ganorn grumbled as he crossed his arms angrily. The action nearly let the white towelthat hugged his waist slip and he scrambled to tighten it before it could fall. He cursed softly under his breath, eager to place a hex of any kind on Freeman, preferably one that targeted the human's groin. 'Why did he insist I begin the next scene completely nude? That whelp couldn't direct traffic on Taetrus, let alone a motion picture of any kind. It's clear he's never worked with someone of my calibre before.'

Dana Nylendi yawned beside him and muttered a half-hearted agreement. The asari was growing tired of Ganorn's constant complaining and yet could not even summon the motivation to simply walk away from him. Instead, she focused her attention on the script, her hands making the datapad clammy and moist. 'I wonder how long this is 'gonna take,' she grumbled. 'We're already running three weeks late and I have to shoot two more movies next week. I can't afford to stick around this long.'

Ganorn huffed in frustration and glanced at Dana. Her lithe, supple form was swathed in a luxurious gown and her face seemed to capture all the famed beauty of the asari as faintly glowing tattoos painted delicate patterns along the top of her head. In a single moment, his anger was all but forgotten.

'Yes,' the turian replied distractedly. 'Yes, it would be a shame if you had to leave.' Clearing his throat, Ganorn adjusted his towel and he realised he was suddenly very nervous. 'Perhaps we should discuss what to do later?'

Dana arched her brows. 'What's to discuss? Foreplay, blowjob, missionary, doggy and a facial to top it off. Seems pretty standard to me, unless I'm missing something? Oh…did I forget a position? I told Freeman already, I can't do the ambitious stuff with a turian, your fringe makes it really-'

'N-no, not at all!' Ganorn stammered. Her bluntness never ceased to take him aback. 'I meant after the shoot, when we're done. I was wondering if you had any plans?'

'No…' the asari replied idly and rested a hand under her chin. 'I was going on a date tonight but now I'm way too tired with all this waiting around. Besides, I think I'm all clubbed out as far as Ilium goes. I think I'll just read a few scripts and get some rest.'

'A…date?' asked Ganorn, his throat feeling dry all of a sudden. 'Well, yes, of course I'm sure you have plenty of um…prospects. Still, I'm sure I can find something new to-'

A loud chime rang through the set, interrupting him and before he could continue Dana had begun to stride towards the dressing rooms. 'Well, that was a waste of another day,' she muttered angrily, 'See you tomorrow.'

'Yes…goodbye…' Ganorn responded quietly as he watched the asari disappear from sight. With a dejected sigh he padded towards his own room, furious at his own inelegance.

~~AFP~~

Listor and Rima glanced at one another briefly. The salarians had only just arrived after their morning nap and their appearances were even more dishevelled than usual, with a loose collection of casual robes hanging from their slender frames, smattered with a wide variety of stains both food and miscellaneous. They each clutched a datapad in their bony fingers and the tapping of keys could just be heard above their random mumblings as they tasted ideas on their lips.

'Still no title?' Listor asked without raising his eyes from the screen.

'No,' Rima replied. 'But I have worked in a very nice addition to Dana's scene with Pallo.'

'You remember what Freeman said,' Listor warned. 'He said that additions are strictly off the books at this point. If we don't come up with a title and ending by the end of the week then he'll,quote: "nail our genitalia to the airlock door and let the vacuum do the rest" unquote.'

Rima sighed, his smooth orange skin glistening. 'Shame. I just noticed an orifice we haven't used and Pallo has the tentacles to spare. I hate to let things go to waste, you know that.'

'Yes, yes, I know. Still, the sooner we can decide on an ending, the sooner we can get off this damned station and back down to Illium.'

'Ah yes, Illium,' Rima exclaimed, 'how could I deny myself the opportunity to pass by all the other respectable families with their well-paid jobs and unassailable breeding positions? I have two cousins on Illium alone who are in negotiations and they've practically only just left their blasted clutch.'

Listor shrugged apathetically. 'You could always find yourself an asari. At least they don't require contracts. More satisfying too, from what I hear, though you have to wonder at the mentality of any salarian who values favourable sensations over good, honest hereditary traits.'

'Again, you assume that just because I gripe, I'm unhappy. You should well know that only when an artist stops complaining is something seriously wrong. I'm merely venting my frustrations because we are supposed to be thinking of an ending and once again our efforts are descending into a sordid discussion about breeding.'

'Well,we are writers, after all.'

Listor's words faded, mixing into the slurring bustle as the cast and crew finished their day's work and shuffled away in the directions of the transit shuttles. Rima let out a deep breath. Another day, another chance to be productive spent like his meagre wages.

'Perhapsit's time I considered another line of work,' he mumbled, 'Maybe the games industry. I have a distant half-cousin who works for the developer that did Galaxy of Fantasy. Surely I'd get more satisfaction from writing epic plots and characters for rich worlds that transcend imagination?'

'Perhaps,' Listor replied, 'Though you'd never get to see any naked females ever again. Of any species.'

Rima nodded and turned his attention back to his datapad. 'Touché.'

~~AFP~~

Milana Orenya's lips curled slightly into a subtle grimace. It was a rare expression of emotion for the asari and the only obvious sign that her distaste at the gaudy lighting and constant stench of sweat and lotion was becoming too great to contain. As a Fornax executive, she should have been used to such things, but the multitude of mundane details irked her even more than usual that day.

Her thin arms were folded across her chest, creasing her dull grey business dress and a gentle tapping rose as her fingers drummed ceaselessly against her arms. Her impatience was all too evident and Xantar's nerves grew more fractious with every impact between finger and suit. The elcor shifted uncomfortably, unable to find a suitable angle at which to rest his enormous hands.

Finally, in what seemed to be the first audible manifestation of her frustration, Milana expelled a deep breath of air from her nostrils.

'Two months,' she said coldly, 'two months behind schedule and two hundred-thousand credits over budget. Care to offer an explanation, Xantar?'

The producer visibly struggled for words. He shifted slightly and tilted his massive head before rumbling an answer. 'Unconvincingly; yes.'

Milana closed her eyes in a moment of exasperation. 'Unconvincingly? That doesn't sound very reassuring.'

'With forced humour; it only seems so to me. Let us just say that these delays have come about purely because Mister Freeman wants to ensure the best possible release. He is a perfectionist at heart, and he is correct in his declaration that there has not been a more ambitious erotic movie in living memory.'

'All right, Xantar,' said Milana as she brought up a hand to massage her throbbing temples, 'let's just take a step back here. Two months ago you and Freeman made a pitch in my office. You assured me that within a few weeks Fornax would have a product that would bring a refined sheen to its reputation, something that – in your words – would "change the face of erotic entertainment forever". Two months down the line, all you've given me is a daily migraine. Now, what you have to understand is that Fornax has been making a very tidy profit for many years, and part of the reason for that success is that both production and distribution have been very cheap. This bloated monstrosity of a production has been nothing but a disaster from day one.'

'Reasoned rebuke,' Xanter interjected, 'this goes beyond money. Fornax's reputation for debased, tasteless xenophilia is a detriment to its long-term standing. Earnestly; this movie will change the way everyone views your company and what it sells.'

'That 'tasteless xenophilia' is one of the galaxy's biggest businesses. Extranet sales alone account for over half our annual profits,' Milana snapped back, her patience fraying, 'but that's not the point here. Two months ago a significant investment was made and you can be assured that if it was anyone else in my position, they'd have shut you down a long time ago.'

'Curiously; why haven't you?'

The asari bit her lip. She could not tell him that she had spent the night previous to their contract signing in Eternity, doing shots and flirting outrageously with the matriarch barwoman. She couldn't even remember putting her signature to that document and when she realised what had happened, she sure as hell couldn't go back on it without drawing attention. Pursing her brow irritably, Milana clenched her teeth. One night of excess had nearly cost her everything and now she was forced to dance the fine line between success and failure. Certainly, that line seemed far behind her at that moment.

'That's none of your business,' she said finally. Xantar gave her a quizzical look but Milana went on before he could speak again. 'Fornax is expecting a finished product, Xantar. If you can't deliver that then my options are very limited. You have three days to turn this around. If I don't see any progress by then, I'm going to be forced to pull the plug on the whole thing.'

'Shocked exclamation; that is too extreme. A great deal has already been done and it would be foolish to throw that away.'

Milana shrugged. 'It's no concern of mine. You've had more than enough time and money to throw together something we can actually sell. I suggest speaking to Freeman before you finish up for the day. I don't have the patience to repeat myself to that creep.'

With that, Milana strode off briskly, visibly eager to be away from the set as quickly as possible. Xantar stood perfectly still as his mind worked to find a solution to his predicament but nothing came.

~~AFP~~

'Three days?' Freeman asked, his voice high with disbelief. 'Well, thank God you didn't tell her about Garn, that's all I can say. If she knew that mindless simpleton was being so rebellious she'd have hijacked the nearest asari dreadnought and used it to redistribute our bodily parts across the entire system. What did you say to her?'

'Defensive; what could I say, John?' Xantar argued. 'I suspected she was annoyed but I did not anticipate she would go this far.'

Freeman clasped a clammy hand to his forehead. 'This is bad, Xantar. We need a plan. Garn's the one holding this whole thing up and it's too late to find someone else. There's nothing for it. We'll have to offer him more money. Hopefully it'll be enough for him to finally cast aside that desiccated carcass, otherwise known as his dignity.'

'Sceptical; John, I think the whole reason Ganorn is being so difficult lies with your dismissal of his artistic integrity. Worriedly; simply throwing more money at him will likely have the opposite effect. Perhaps a diplomatic approach would be preferable.'

Nodding, Freeman stepped close to him, lowering his voice as several groups of crew streamed past them. 'You'd best handle that, then. You've always been the more diplomatic one and I'm certainly in no mood to tell Garn that he has power of life and death over this whole debacle.'

'Enthusiastic agreement; very well. I will speak to him first thing in the morning.'

'Good. With any luck, we'll be on our way to fame and fortune by dinner time.'

His mood lifted, Xantar dipped his head and turned away with all the outward enthusiasm his kind were capable of mustering. His heavy footfalls thumped in Freemans ears until he disappeared from sight and the director finally let out a deep, weary breath. The set had grown quiet now the working day was over and in the distance he could hear the muted hum of shuttle engines as they left the hangar.

'You know,' Freeman said aloud, raising his voice. 'Sometimes I wonder at the legitimacy of this famed 'asari wisdom'. If that Orenya woman had any sense whatsoever she'd shut this steaming pile of vorcha droppings down without a second thought. This movie is quite possibly the worst idea since Sirta came up with krogan contraceptives.'

A thin, heavily distorted voice answered behind him, its wheezing tones broken by the steady hiss of a helmet rebreather. 'I don't know about that, Mister Freeman,'Moxi Par replied optimistically. The volus held a datapad awkwardly in his short, stubby three-fingered grip, though Freeman could not help but notice the device was upside-down. 'I thought the rehearsals went very well today. Up until Mister Firaxis stormed off-set, of course.'

Freeman frowned and turned sharply to face Moxi . 'That wasn't a rehearsal, Moxi, that was an actual take.'

The volus took in several deep breaths, clearly weighing up his error. 'Ah. I suppose I should have turned the cameras on, then.'

Freeman brought up a hand and rubbed his face tiredly. Moxi was the studio's only cameraman, an indentured servant acquired when a volus trading vessel had paid the studio a visit and Xantar negotiated a contract for cheap lubricants and lotions. It was only now that Freeman had begun to consider the possibility that Moxi's people had actually thrown the little moron into the bargain for a reason.

'So,' the director began wearily, 'all this time, when I've shouted the word 'action', what did you think I meant?'

Moxi paused and the rhythmic hiss of his respirator made Freeman's hands clutch convulsively, his murderous frustration barely contained. 'To be honest, Mister Freeman, I have been meaning to ask what you meant by that.'

'I see. So when you told me that you've had five years' experience as a cameraman, you meant…?'

Moxi puffed out his chest proudly. 'Fifty-seven voyages spent watching the sensors of the very vessel that provided my service! I was responsible for manning the early-warning systems and notifying the captain of incoming ships. It was very close to camera work.'

'Fifty-seven voyages,' Freeman began and placed his hands on his hips. 'And may I ask how many times your vessel was boarded by pirates?'

'Fifty-seven times, Sir,' Moxi replied hesitantly, 'though I was just unlucky. The sensors were all facing backwards, a mistake anyone could have made. I'd only just fixed them before the crew placed me here.'

Freeman looked away, an utter lack of surprise painting his features. Moxi's suspiciously cheap price was no longer a mystery.

'All right,' Freeman announced, clasping his hands together, 'I think that's enough pain and misery for one day. By all means, my porcine, malodorous little friend, feel free to eject yourself out of the nearest garbage disposal unit. If, by some misfortune, you happen to be here in the morning please remember to switch the cameras on.'

'No problem, Mister Freeman, you can count on me! Would you like some company tonight? I know a rather excellent batarian bar down on the surface with the most delightful patrons. I'm sure I can find a good Skyllian Five table?'

'No, no,' Freeman muttered as he walked off. 'Please don't take this personally, Moxi, but I'd rather swallow a bowlful of helium-3 and hold a light-your-fart competition. Have a good night, Moxi. Or don't, I really couldn't care less.'

The infuriatingly intrusive sound of Moxi's breathing followed Freeman all the way to the shuttle bay and the human closed his eyes in irritation. He could only wonder what joys the next day would bring.