by Andrew "Dobber" Dobson

The Fist Tank was buzzing with excitement when Captain Andrew "Dobber" Dobson entered it. To liven up the spirits onboard the Alliance battlecruiser, the captain had once again gone with the idea of a stage performance to take place. Many individuals, including some of the pilots from both Red and Blue Squadrons, had agreed to volunteer their services once again, even after last year's disaster of a play. Walking over to the counter, he saw that Dargon, the current bartender on the CRS Morning Star, was fiddling with a strange-looking rectangular box.

"Hello, Dargon. Problems with your, um… radio was it?"

"Oh, hello Mr. Dobson," said Dargon. "I will admit, I am having problems with this once again. And the blender…."

"As a certain droid of ours would say, 'why must you continue to fix things that you fail to fix?' "

Dargon turned around slowly with a grin on his face. "I have not failed. I've just found 10,000 ways that won't work."

"Right."

"I'm beginning to think that Jate is beginning to rub off on you, sir," said Dargon with a laugh. "Oh, by the way, the new menu has been finished. With some of Chelsey's help, of course."

"You mean you let Vape… Chelsey "Vape" Maxfield… the sole person who is responsible for everything colourful in the past … help you create the new beverage menu?"

"What was is that you said last month? Ah yes! 'I know, let Vape design the new squadron uniform!'"

"Hey, that was just a joke. And I didn't think that she'd actually do it for Blue Squadron alone. It was rather embarrassing, if you ask me."

"What did she do, anyways," asked Dargon as he began to clean up the mess around him. "I never found out."

His face turning a dark red, Andrew unzipped the top part of his blue flight suit and turned part of it to show what was on the inside. On it, there was a massive swirl of at least thirty different bright colours, from hot pink to florescent red. "It's not something I like to discuss, but I laugh all the same. So… what's new on the menu?"

"You see it," said Dargon as he tilted his head to a large holographic panel behind him. Looking at them, Andrew decided to read them aloud to see how… colourful they'd be.

"Fo shizzle, neptizzle."

"Very good drink, I might add," Dargon cut in. "Made by the lady Maxfield herself."

"Is that a lekku, or are you happy to see me?"

"A concoction of my own," said Dargon with bright smile.

"Judgement Day…. I've heard about that one. In fact I've seen the results. Poor Kelly. But you know what they say…."

"We can't stop Judgement Day, we just have to survive it…"

"How true. Well, there are just so many different drinks to choose from now. How about you surprise me this time?"

"Sure thing, sir," said Dargon as he stopped cleaning up his mess. Turning around, he wiped his hands off on a half-dirty rag, and began mixing several liquids together. One of them was a thick, clear syrup, actually.

"Might I ask what this one is," asked Andrew as Dargon handed him the drink. "It smells a bit like sand, or dirt or something like that."

"I haven't given it a proper name yet. I know!" exclaimed Dargon. "Tatooine smells good after snow!"

Andrew sighed and took a large gulp of what was in his glass. Not bad, he thought, if it weren't for the Tatooine and Hoth reference. He was getting quite tired of so many people and missions relating to those two worlds. They were like hot-spots in the galaxy. Tatooine was, anyway.

"Well, how does it taster?" asked a curious Dargon.

Pondering the thought for a moment, Andrew replied, "Great taste! Less filling!"

"That's what everyone else says. At least cracker sales are up because of the drink.

"Dargon," said a rather loud voice at the end of the room. "You know this Stormtrooper armor does nothing for me!"

"Relax, Mr. Baden. The talent show won't start for another half-hour, so you might as well sit tight. Besides, Paul said that you'd only need to be on stage for five minutes."

"You're the manager of this! And that's five minutes too long, if you ask me," said Rob "Biggs" Baden as he marched over to the counter.

"Now, now, Rob, calm down," said Andrew."

"Sorry. I've been on patrol for the last seven hours."

"Not a problem then! By the way, what's the production called again? I hope that it'll be better than last year's show."

"What was that one called? I missed that one completely," said Rob.

"You want it going where?"

"Sounds like a crude title, then. As for this year's…." A grin crept across Rob's face. The title was rather silly, to be honest. "I loved the smell of Palpie's armpits in the morning…it smelt like victory!"

"I'm sure you'll do a wonderful job as a stormtrooper then," replied Andrew with a smile. "Just remember to not hit anything or anyone with your blaster. You wouldn't want to have to pay for any damage repairs."

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