Hey all, this story is loosely based off the Office, which is a TV series. You don't have to have watched it to read this however, as it is only very vaguely based off of it.
Basically, this story involves a recording team following the Rebel Alliance around and documenting their daily lives, while interviewing several prominent figures privately to get their opinions.
This is sort of going to be a test for me, as I am experimenting with different ideas. If it works and I like it, I'll keep going.
Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter, and tell me what you think about this new style!
Axel pushed the holotape into the projector, and fiddled with the myriad of buttons on the console. The moment it turned on, the dark room was enlightened by flush of brilliant blue.
"Are you sure this is a good idea? Wasn't this entire show banned?" private Wilkins asked, his voice timid and spilling over with anxiety. "What sort of name is Rebel Hearts anyway? It's so corny," he complained as he read the box the tape had come in.
Axel squinted a bit as his eyes adjusted to the burning blue, but kept fiddling anyway. Blindness hadn't stopped him before, it wouldn't now.
"That is exactly why it's a good idea. Don't you want to see just exactly what happened? What the big bad doesn't want us to know?" he asked deviously, his voice dripping with anticipation.
Wilkins shifted nervously in his seat, but despite his growing urge to leave, remained seated anyway. He always ended up going against his better judgement and following along with Axel's stupid plans. Curse him anyway for being his only friend.
"What if someone walks in?"
He squeezed his gloved fingers into his palm as he watched Axel take the tape out, blow on it, and unceremoniously shove it back in again.
"We could be executed, or anything!" he continued, cursing himself for allowing his nerves to spill out into his voice.
A long, rolling sigh spilled out of Axel's mouth. He jumped up with tenacity, used one long stride of his overly long legs to reach the door, and locked it. When he turned, he shot Wilkin a glare.
"Happy?"
"No, not really."
Axel sighed again, this time over-exaggerating it while he slumped his shoulders and looked to the ceiling.
"I swear to the Gods, Wilkins. You are lucky you have me to do these things with you, otherwise you'd probably spend all day hiding in your closet," he grumbled mutely as he pressed the 'on' button once more.
Wilkins held his breadth, part of him hoping that the tape would never work, but to his disappointment, the console began to whir, and blue projector fizzled to life.
"Yes!" Axel exclaimed quietly through his teeth. The taller man jumped up and sat on the couch beside Wilkins.
He grabbed the packet of illegal chocolate nutrient bars from Wilkins, who had honestly forgotten he had been holding them, then took a huge bite.
"Here we go! I can't believe we are doing this!" he hushed with quiet excitement.
"You've just signed both of our death warrants," Wilkins huffed as he crossed his arms. Though, in spite of himself, he kept looking.
Axel ignored him, and pressed the play button with what Wilkins could only assume was unadulterated glee.
The projector fizzled again, and then the fuzzy image of the title screen came into existence.
000
"There is more to the rebellion than simple acts of violence. We use all assets presented to us in our ultimate goal to restore freedom to the galaxy," a woman with short, red hair and a fragile frame insisted. She was sitting in what looked to be an office. The top of her spartan desk could be made out at the bottom of the screen, and a plain, stone wall occupied the background.
"It is my hope that this documentary will show all who watch it how we live on a day to day basis, we are not always gun running or attacking Imperial bases," she continued, and Wilkins slowly began to realize he was watching Mon Mothma.
000
The camera cut away to a hangar, which was open to a dense jungle outside. The walls of the base were formed of old stone, and the hangar itself was slowly filling up with more and more people. A few seconds in, a group of X Wings suddenly burst through the heavy foliage and entered the hangar, the noise of their engines almost as loud as the cheers from the entourage that had gathered to greet them.
"We are people, not terrorists. People who desperately want tyranny to end," Mon continued as her voice began to narrate over the footage. The X wings kissed the floor of the hangar gently, and the cockpits popped open, then the pilots began to emerge. The crowd suddenly rushed forward, cheers filling the hangar and soon, the pilots were swallowed up be the large crowd that celebrated their arrival.
Moments later a large YT-1300 freighter swooped into the hangar and landed bashfully near the X wings. It too is quickly mobbed by crowds of people.
The camera zoomed on a pilot who was lifted into the air by his peers, he cheered along with them, raising a fist into the air in celebration. His friends bounced him up and down excitedly as he was carried slowly towards the other end of the hangar.
"The Alliance has achieved a great victory today, one that shall hopefully rally others to our cause, and prove to the galaxy that the Empire is not as indestructible as it seems."
000
The scene changed, and Wilkins was greeted with the scene of a Smuggler, who was sitting lazily on some old couch in what looked to be a ship, he could even hear the soft purr of the internal systems running. The smugglers arms stretched out along the back of the couch, his scruffy brown hair a mess on his head.
"Yeah we blew up the Death Star, what about it?" he asked as he smirked victoriously. Wilkins almost laughed, his rendition of what had just happened was starkly different to that of Mon Mothma's. "But am I a rebel?"
The smuggler cocked his head to the side. He smacked his lips, then and shook his head.
"Do I look like one of those orange flyboys to you?"
000
Han entered some small storage room inside the main base, the contents of which were spilling out into the corridor. It seemed the rebels were evacuating, Wilkins guessed. He could just about make out a blurry, out of focus electrician in the far background trying to unscrew the lights from the ceiling.
"Your highestness," Han greeted. Though to who, Wilkins was not sure.
"So, you came back?"
The camera lurked behind a glass from, looking into a small room full of crates and deactivated droids. The cameraman seemed to be finding it difficult to get a good shot, as right now all Wilkins could see was the smugglers back.
"Don't get too excited, princess," the Han replied smoothly. "What are you doin' in here?"
"I could ask you the same thing," the woman snapped back. "And don't call me that."
Han raised his arms up into an exaggerated shrug.
"Call you what?" he hummed.
A loud scoff could audibly be heard, and moments later Princess Leia herself sidestepped Han and made for the exit, carrying a series of data pads in her hand. A brief burst of surprise ran through Wilkins at the sight. Han snapped his arm up to hold her shoulder, stopping her. She looked up at him, her face a mixture of bemusement and aggression.
"I was only looking for some couplings to fix up the Falcon, that's all. All your loaders are off partying, so one of 'em gave me a key to the storage rooms to go look for myself."
Leia's nostrils flared. Though despite her efforts, she relaxed into a more accepting posture.
"Alright. I'm glad you came back. If it weren't for you Luke could be dead."
Han's smile grew to his ears.
"Don't get mushy on me, Princess."
Instantly, a large frown contorted Leia's face, and she pushed him off her.
"You are an arrogant, stuck-up, self-deserving, moof-milker," she bit back harshly as she marched down the corridor.
Han followed quickly after, the camera following them both all the way down the long hall.
"Hey! That's my joke your highness!" he yelled after her, but she kept going silently, and Han slowly skid to a stop, then watched her leave through the door at the end of the hall.
The smuggler turned towards the camera and blew his lips as he scratched his head. He made a face and shrugged, then rolled his eyes and went back into the storage room.
Th clip changed, and Wilkins saw Leia slow to a halt just as the door between her and Han closed. She looked down at her data pad, her dimples showing as she held in a smile.
000
Princess Leia Organa sat by her desk, in much the same manner as Mon Mothma had, except she had this fiery rage in her eyes the older woman could have never hoped to match.
"Han Solo, is an idiot," she scolded defiantly. "He's a good for nothing scoundrel."
She crossed his arms over her chest. Even though she was wearing a petite white dress, Wilkins was certain she could fight off a rancor even in that outfit.
"And quite frankly, I'm insulted that you even asked me that."
000
"There are more important things I have to worry about, such as where to take the Alliance now," she explained as the camera cut away to a group of rebels celebrating in a canteen.
The entire canteen was filled to the brim with loud, happy rebels. They were jumping vaguely in unison, chanting incoherent words as they celebrated. They were drunk, Wilkins presumed with scarcely concealed disgust. The canteen was constructed of stone; however, its walls were patched up with platesteel in places. One of the rebels hopped up unto a table, a bottle in hand. He popped it, sending the cork flying into the crowd, and a flush of bubble liquid went flying into the air. He shook it vigorously which only caused the spray to get on everyone. They didn't seem to mind though, as they only cheered harder.
Streamers were everywhere already, and many of the rebels looked to be ready to collapse at any moment despite how energetically they bounced. It was chaotic, disorganized, and full of people who were clearly too inhibited to act professionally.
000
"Damn party hounds," one rebel growled through his teeth. He was wearing a neat and ironed uniform, with his hair brushed carefully into place upon his head.
They were interviewing this one in a hallway it seemed. People were hurrying to and for behind him, most carrying or pushing something.
"We are evacuating the base, and half of our forces are getting black out drunk in the canteen. The Empire could retaliate ay any minute. We have to leave right now, and I am not dragging a bunch of passed out loons unto my ship," he complained, his temples throbbing.
000
"Nah, I didn't go to the party. Chewie and I are prepping' the ship so she can fly us out of here," Han explained as he scratched the back of his head.
Chewie roared in the background, and Han pointed to him with his thumb, nodding in agreement.
"What he said."
000
The camera lurked behind a wall, and the being operating it slowly veered around the corner and zoomed in to take a peak at a man who didn't look to be very long out of his teens, brushing his shaggy blonde hair in the mirror of a bathroom that the lens could just about see into from its hiding spot. His bright orange flight gear was strikingly obvious against the white-clad walls surrounding him, and small bits of streamers clung to his clothes. The muffled sounds of celebrating rebels could be heard even here.
"That's Luke Skywalker!" Axel exclaimed as he crunched down on his bar.
Wilkins wasn't so sure. Whoever he was, he sighed, his shoulders slacking. Slowly, the boy placed his brush on the edge of the sink, and stared at himself, a grim expression on his face. Wilkins frowned, if that indeed was Luke Skywalker, he was not what he had been expecting. He sighed and swiped the confetti off his clothes.
Moments later, the boy shook his head, and left briskly. The camera darted back into the safety of the adjected hallway so that the rebel couldn't see. Then as if realizing that the reflex action wasn't necessary, slowly poked out again just as he left through a door at the far end of the hallway.
The camera cut again, and this time the same kid was sitting on a bed, looking sheepishly at the camera. A quiet smile crossed over his features.
"I'm not a hero," he told the cameraman with a slight shake of his head. "I just got lucky, that's all. If Vader's wingman hadn't crashed into him, I'd be stardust."
They looked to be in his room. The sheets on the bed were slightly astray, and a worn poster of a TIE fighter clung desperately to the wall by one lone piece of sticky tape. The camera zoomed in on him, as if expecting him to say something more, but he only shrugged and gave another sheepish smile.
The clip cut, and they were back looking at the canteen again. There weren't nearly as many rebels as before. Wilkins supposed they were looking at the back end of a crazy party. The few stragglers murmured drunkly, about what, he couldn't tell, as the audio receiver was clearly too far away to pick up anything in particular. The heavy hum of the canteens various nutrient dispensers was the loudest contributor to the audio he was hearing.
The last few rebels left, and for a moment the messy canteen was completely silent. The camera zoomed in on a passed-out rebel soldier in the corner. He his face was covered in shaky grey lines that had been drawn on with a sharpie, supposedly in an attempt to mimic The Emperor's ancient face. The words 'screw the Emperor' were written across his forehead in a very crude manner. Wilkins shook his head at the sight. His clothes were splattered and damp, perhaps from someone spilling beer on him. Though he didn't seem to mind, as he was fast asleep.
The camera zoomed out again. Then, a blonde head peeped into the room, and Luke Skywalker trotted quietly in. He headed straight for the nutrient dispensers, and slotted in a credit.
The camera zoomed in on him, causing it to momentarily go out of focus. The image became clear again just in time to see him pull some sort of drink out of the dispensers, then flee the scene. The cameraman followed him briskly down the hallway, and stopped to record him enter General Organa's office.
The woman inside was sitting at her desk, writing something on a data pad, and looked up just as the camera entered. She glanced at the camera momentarily, a very brief flush coming over her features, before she composed herself and looked to Luke.
"Luke, the party finally over?" She asked mildly.
"Yeah, I think so. I left a few hours ago, but I couldn't sleep," he told her as his fingers intertwined around the cup.
Leia nodded thoughtfully.
"This has been a great day for the Alliance, by destroying the death star, we've dealt a massive blow to the Imperials, and it's all thanks to you Luke. We couldn't have done it without you," she explained, a wonderful smile spreading across her face, causing her dimples to show.
Luke nodded.
"Thanks. You uh… looked tired, so I thought this could help."
Leia smiled and took it off him, turning the cup in her hands to read the label.
"A cup of caff," she assessed as she looked it over, "Thank you Luke."
Her voice was genuine as she pressed the cap open. A heavy burst of steam came flowing out of the cup and into the room. She took a quick sip, before setting it down.
"I hope this doesn't mean you expect me to stay up the rest of the night working, do you?" she cooed playfully.
The cameraman angled the lens away from Leia to focus it on Luke, who seemed to be an unusual shade of red.
"Of course not!" he exclaimed apologetically. "I just thought you could use it. I'm going to get myself one too."
000
The corridors were full of rebels, all of whom were either heading back to their quarters, or going to a friends' for an afterparty. Many still wore party hats, which played as a colourful contrast to the crumbling walls of the ancient temple the base was situated in.
A large Wookie walked quickly though the corridors, trying to push past the hoard of drunk rebels who were pouring out of the canteen. His Wookie growls got louder and louder and he shook his fists in the air in frustration.
Chewbacca roared and tried to push past them again, failing miserably
000
The Wookie stood in the engine room of the Millennium Falcon. He complained aggressively in Shyriiwook, though Wilkins couldn't understand it. Judging by Chewbacca's aggressive hand gestures and the way he flared his teeth, Wilkins guessed he wasn't happy.
000
Then, the footage cut back to Luke sitting on his bed, his elbows resting on his legs as and his chin on his clasped hands. He had a look on his face that made Wilkins think the interviewer had asked him if he'd murdered someone. His eyes lit up in a way that screamed 'danger!', and he reeled back into his bed, his arms spanning out as if to tell someone not to shoot him.
"General Organa? No, of course I don't like her, we're just friends!" he insisted loudly. His eyes widened even more, and he looked like he was about to be trampled by a herd of stampeding beasts. He shifted and opened his mouth tot try to reexplain himself.
"I do like her, but not that way. Romantically, I mean. I like her as a friend," he mumbled somewhat incoherently. Luke sighed, seeming to realize that he was sounding like an idiot. The young man scratched his forehead, and looked briefly at the floor.
"I'm just some kid from Tatooine anyway, she's a princess. There's no way it could ever happen," he muttered dejectedly.
000
Luke left Leia's office, and headed back to his own room. Once within the safety of his own quarters, his shoulders slumped once more, and the camera caught him falling unto his bed, still fully clothed, just as the doors to swished shut.
The camera zoomed out to reveal the whole span of the corridor, then moved abruptly to the right. The image of a nautolan, shuffling down the hall, pressing one green hand against the wall for support came into view. The camera zoomed in and focused just as he groaned. He took one sloppy step, then fell face first unto the floor.