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The War For the Stars - Xenon Edition

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Soolin had chosen the hairstyle in all innocence. (As odd as that word might sound applied to an assassin.) It had seemed a sensible arrangement: it kept the hair out of your face, and provided a layer of protection to the sides of your head.

 

She had not expected Vila's sheer delight when he saw it, and nothing could have prepared her for an impromptu line-for-line retelling of War For the Stars, an incredibly old and incredibly long saga from ancient Earth. A saga that, inexplicably, the Delta knew by heart. All five million lines of it. Soolin had, in all ignorance, chosen the most famous hairstyle of Alliance Princess Leia Organa, Queen of the ultimately doomed uprising against the Earth Empire.

 

Nor could she have anticipated Dayna and Tarrant joining in with Vila. It seemed that in spite of their highly different backgrounds, they both knew and absolutely adored the saga. They matched Vila line for line, and dragged Soolin into the middle of it all.

 

When Avon came to see what the commotion was all about, his timing was such that he walked in right as Vagrant Kenobi was about to face Lord Vader in battle for the final time. Which resulted in Vila (playing Kenobi) hitting Avon on the side of the head with his crystal control rod “light saber” instead of clacking it against Tarrant's.

 

Avon yanked it out of his hand. “What the HELL is going on here?” he snarled.

 

“Aw, Avon, you interrupted the best part! Tarrant was just about to kill Vila!” Dayna protested.

 

Avon blinked. “It's been a long time coming, but may I ask why now?”

 

“Not for real, not for real!” Vila babbled. “We're showing Soolin War For the Stars , because she's never seen it! It's not my fault you came in wearing black just as I was going to fight Lord Vader!”

 

“You don't have to continue on my account,” Soolin protested, though she'd honestly enjoyed a good portion of the story. Especially the part where she'd called Vila (playing Chewbacca) a “walking carpet.”

 

Avon glanced at her, spotted the hairstyle, and understanding dawned in his eyes. “Ah, I see. Well, who am I to interfere in an education in the classics. But you have the scene wrong. Vagrant Kenobi is supposed to close his eyes and stand still.”

 

“I like my version better,” Vila protested, even as he complied.

 

Avon smacked him upside the head. “The next time you use one these as a prop, I will have Dayna insert it in a very painful portion of your anatomy!” he snarled. “Computer crystal is not supposed to be banged around like children's toys!”

 

Vila sighed and rubbed his head. “I suppose this means you don't want to help us with Vader's bits for The Empire Strikes Back?”

 

Avon started to snarl “no,” then a thought occurred. “That is the part of the saga where Lord Vader strikes off the first Skywalker's hand, correct?”

 

“That's right!”

 

“And which of you is playing the Skywalker?”

 

“Oh, that's Tarrant, he insisted. He loves that part.”

 

“I played it back in the Federation Space Academy,” Tarrant affirmed. “They put on a production of it for the graduating class every year.”

 

“Well, in that case, I accept,” Avon said, with a smile that struck terror in Vila's heart, and mild trepidation in Tarrant's.

 

 

Ten hours later, Soolin dropped into bed exhausted. Earth raised humans, she'd decided, were completely insane. And the War For the Stars was a perfect distillation of their madness.

 

But some of the hairstyles, she mused, sounded quite interesting. Perhaps she'd try one of the Amidala's next...