The Actress's Lines

By: Alderaani Writer's Guild

Disclaimer: Hey! News flash here: We're not Stackpole and Lucas and we dont
claim to be. We're not getting paid so don't make us bite you! ::CHOMP::


Chapter 1

Wynssa Starflare strode down the corridor to the 181st office with mixed
feelings. While her giddy step and broad smile propelled her foreword, glad
tidings crashing in her ears, she was also well aware of Soontir's emphatic
warning against visiting him at work. Perhaps it went against her better
judgment to press on, but she was aflame with good news: she had been asked
to attend the 26th Emperor's Circle Annual Holodrama Awards where she was
TWICE nominated for best actress in both Gone With the Rebellion, a picture
about "rebel" atrocities, and The Bridges of Aldera County, where some
strange screenwriter explored the romance in falling apart historic bridges
on Alderaan. The only problem was that going sans escort was social suicide.
She had hoped her dear 'Tir would take care of this trivial detail. She
realized, of course, that he may decline, preferring to avoid the spotlight
as much as possible in his typically humble fashion. Nevertheless, the
adrenaline of the moment catapulted Wynessa beyond these adverse
possibilities, and she arrived at the 181st HQ with confidence. After all,
she thought, if they gave her trouble, that was where her dead-on shot and
hold-out blaster came into play. She paused at the door to the shockingly small
office, and drew a breath, preparing to do
what she did best: Act.

"Excuse me," Starflare began coyly, "But could you tell me where I
might find a Major Fel?"
There was a flight officer standing behind the desk with his back to
Wynssa. "Look," he began patronizingly, securing the file he'd been searching
for, "You really shouldn't be he-" The file's contents fluttered to the floor
as he came face to face with his goddess, Wynssa Starflare. "You, um, REALLY
shouldn't be worried about it, I've got you covered, Miss Starflare."
A flush spread slowly across his face as he began clacking at the keys of
the console. "I'm a huge fan, you know..."
"Aww..." said Wynssa smiling broadly, "Aren't you sweet! Here, let me
get these for you," she offered, scooping the file off the floor.
The flight officer began to hyperventilate, certain he would pass out when
she bent over. "Ma-Major Fel is, um, uh...H-he's on patrol. He should be back
in about an hour..."
"Oh, I can wait here if I may. I won't disturb you?"
"Of course not, ma'am. By the way, I'm Flight Officer-," as Wynssa
shook his extended hand, he realized he had no idea who he was. "Umm...I seem
to have
forgotten," he glanced at his ID, "Adrian Zaerece!" he cried triumphantly.
She offered him another winning smile. Adrian was gathering the courage to
offer her coffee when a gruff, resounding voice filled the office.
"You should be working, Zaerece. Who's in there?"
"Um, no one really, Colonel Derricote, Sir. Only a woman looking for Major
Fel, Sir."
"Well, he's on patrol, so I guess she'll just have to. . ." He walked
into the receiving area and was unable to finish his sentence. Although she
had not bothered to do anything particularly spectacular with her hair or
makeup and wore only a simple, earth-tone, fairly short and fairly tight
dress, she was still breathtakingly beautiful. He got the feeling she could
wear rags and still be beautiful. In fact, some nice revealing rags would
look very becoming on her...
"And what brings a woman of your, ah, caliber to our humble fighter
bay?" he queried with a revised tone of voice.
"I'm looking for Major Soontir Fel. I was told he'll be back from
patrol in an hour and I was wondering if I could wait for him?" Wynessa said
this with beautiful composure while taking a critical look at the portly,
soil and oil stained, greedy-eyed, aging Derricote.
"What do you need him for, miss...?" He waited for her to offer her
name.
By this time, approximately all the members of the 181st who were not
simming or on duty were staring at Wynssa. Zaerece took some comfort in the
fact that Derricote was drooling over the woman just as badly as he had been.
"Wynssa Starflare. I was wondering if he'd be able to accompany me to
the Vaders this year."
Derricote attempted to regain his composure, but this revelation shocked him
immensly. Never before had he met a holovid actress -- a real holovid actress!
"I don't see any problems with him attending," Derricote began, picturing
pages of 181st publicity, "Let me just be sure he doesn't have any patrols
that day. . ."
"The twenty-third."
"Yes, of course, the twenty-third. Hmm, he has a patrol." Publicity,
Derricote, publicity, he thought. "But let me just change things a bit. There!
He can have the days before and after off," the CO stated, giving himself a
few extra patrols. I'll dump them on someone later, he thought.
"Thank you so very much, sir. I was so worried he wouldn't be able
to come," Wynssa gushed, genuinely relieved.
Derricote smiled smuggly, hoping for favors in the event Fel's charm
over Starflare terminated. "I'm certain you don't want to wait here until he
comes off duty, so perhaps I can show you around a bit?"
"Why, I'd love that." She smiled enchantingly.
Derricote led her into an adjoining room and attempted to call some wandering
members of the 181st wing to attention with dismal results. A few turned
around to face him, Phennir, a Captain and a new addition to the unit,
snapped to full military attention, several ignored the command all together,
and a recruit asked what attention was. Derricote sighed, realized that his
attempt was an a dismal failure and left Phennir at attenton, quickly
escorting Wynessa to the next room without further ado.
In this room, clearly a simming bay, TIE pods minus the solar side
panels were mounted in rows with a central holographic display in the center.
The air was filled with the noise of the comm traffic and laser blasts a
ssociated with the "battle".
"Here is our simulator room. We do most of our training here. Right
now, the 2/181st is simming a battle against Corellian pirates in various
types of mismatched craft. Admittedly, the pirates are being controlled by the computer
but we fare just as well against human opponents."
Wynssa hoped that either this sim was excedingly difficult (which it
didn't appear to be) or that the 2/181st didn't see live combat often, as the mock
battle wasn't going well at all. From her knowledge of simulator numeration,
she could tell that the TIE squadron had begun with 2 to 1 odds and was down
to its last three pilots against the computer, which still had four. She
decided that it would not be politic to mention that she could probably
outfly at least half the pilots currently simming. Men didn't find women as
attractive after they realized that the women were better qualified and
better skilled than they were, and while normally this courtesy was beyond
Wynssa, she realized that this star treatment was based on her aesthetic
qualities, not her true intelligence. She decided that Soontir's sqadron must
be better if they took Ord Biinr
singlehandedly.
Derricote proceded on this "impressive" tour and led her into another
connected room with targets lining the wall to the left about one hundred and
fifty meters away.
Funny, thought Wynssa, I would have thought the aim of the exercise
was to hit the targets. She fought to keep from wincing as two pilots missed
the targets by almost half a meter each time. My little brother shot better
than these pilots . . . at age six.
"And this is our firing range," Derricote informed her as if he
assumed she had never before been in one. "I believe these are members of the 4/181st
practicing now."
"How impressive," Wynssa gushed. Seeming genuine in Cruel Intentions
was easier than seeming genuine here, she thought.
"Isn't it? Your Soontir's much better, though. He'll bullseye nine
out of ten and scold his men if they can't."
Wynssa's respect for Soontir was raised a notch, but she wondered if
even "much better" than these pilots was a compliment.
One of the pilots raised his blaster to fire again. She fought the impulse to
correct his awful grip. Small wonder he can't hit the target.
Derricote led her into another hallway ending in a large chamber lit
brightly by growlamps recessed into the ceiling. Potted plants covered the
floor space and hanging baskets draped down from the ceiling. About a third
of the plants were in bloom, filling the room with vibrant color. Despite
their ecclectic placing, the room didn't appear cluttered. "My pet project.
Beatiful, no?"
"Oh, yes," Wynssa breathed. It was her first sincere compliment of
the afternoon.
"These are my prized mycosia." He reached out and plucked a pale pink
lily-like blossom. "So very difficult to grow, yet so beautiful when they do."
He tucked the mycosia into her hair.
"Why thank you. It's so beautiful." Wynessa instinctivly tucked back
a strand of blonde hair, touched by the gesture. Fel's colleagues may be
lacking in skill, she thought, but they do seem to exhibit a certain
home-grown kindness.

"Aren't they? Here's some choreopteris, and Corellian dhryliads, and
ultraviolet orchids-the rarest kind, you know?- and Alderaani
passionflower..."
Wynssa had been listening intently to Derricote, but her attention
had been drawn elsewhere. A tall, sweat soaked man in a jet-black flightsuit
had just stepped into the doorway. His dark hair framed a strong yet suprisingly
delicate face and his broodingly mysterious eyes seemed to smile absently, all of these
reminisent of his obvious Corellian heritage.
"General Derricote, you wished for me to report?" Major Soontir Fel
surveyed the chamber after saluting Derricote.
"Ah, yes, Soontir. You're attending the Holos this year with Miss
Starflare here on the twenty-third."
"Don't I have a patrol that day, sir?"
"It's all taken care of. You have plenty of time to escort Miss
Starflare to the holos, so don't even worry about that. Personally, I wish I
was going but I don't have a beautiful actress girlfriend..." Yet, Derricote
added mentaly.
"Exscuse me, sirs," Wynssa interrupted. "My agent and I have a
meeting with my producer in half an hour so if I may take my leave? General
Derricote, thank you so much for the lovely tour of the 181st. It was a
pleasure meeting you."
"And a pleasure meeeting you too, my dear," he replied with a bow and a
smile.
"And, 'Tir, we are still meeting for dinner tonight?"
"Of couse," Fel recovered quickly, flashing her a captivating smile,
still startled by Derricote's apparent selfless generosity.
Wynssa waved amiably as she walked out the door of the greenhouse.
Apparently, meeting Derricote instead of Soontir had been a boon- he was
going to the Vaders with her that year like it or not- but she knew he'd like
it!

*******

"Lovely girl, isn't she, Soontir," Derricote commented admiringly.
"Of course, sir."
"Such shapely. . ." He stared a bit too closely at Wynssa's
retreating hind side.
"Assets, sir."
"Precisely, Soontir, precisely. You certainly have fine taste in
women."
"Thank you, sir."
"She doesn't happen to have a sister, does she?"
"Not to my knowledge, sir."
"How unfortunate. You must have met some of her actress friends, then, who
you might possibly introduce me to?"
"She doesn't speak of them much."
Derricote sighed, half-exasperated and rather disapointed. "Well, go
get ready for your date then."
Soontir remained standing there at attention.
Derricote rolled his eyes. "Dissmissed!"
Soontir saluted and left.
"By the maker," he muttered, "proper military protocol is fine in its
proper time and place, but not in every single conversation. I honestly do
not understand the man, I truly don't. . . " He trailed off into silence as
he began to repot a plant in a larger container.