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bright_ephemera
11.25.2015 , 02:48 PM | #51
Spoilers for Ensign Temple's recruitment.

The children milling around outside daycare stop when a chunky speeder truck appears on the horizon. With much belching of smoke and rattling of parts it pulls up in front of the daycare building. The driver, a reedy fellow in a Rotworms jersey, hops off. He turns to NADIA GRELL.
DELIVERYMAN: Miss, I have a package here for a...he squints at his holo readout...Kerm Wall?
KHEM VAL: She is one of the children. Don't bother.
NADIA GRELL: I'm not a child.
KHEM VAL: You will deal with me.
THE DELIVERYMAN looks him up and down.
DELIVERYMAN: If it's all the same to you, I really don't have a problem with talking to someone who isn't you.
KHEM VAL: Tulak Hord would punish your insolence with death.
DELIVERYMAN: Yeah, but the trailer is keyed to my biometrics.
KHEM VAL, reluctantly: Proceed.
KHEM VAL turns to the assembled children, who by now have stilled and quieted, apart from the ones trying to sneak around to peek into the trailer.
KHEM VAL: Children, today you will celebrate your gratitude for still being alive.
KHEM VAL pauses and looks at BABY DARTH MARR. BABY DARTH MARR glares through his mask at KHEM VAL.
KHEM VAL: Or only mostly dead.
A heavenly smell emerges as the trailer opens. Inside are all the furnishings necessary to seat twenty-eight children, a ghost, a young Jedi, and a shadow killer...plus one more, as KID LOKIN hops out to help.

The DELIVERYMAN, KID LOKIN, and NADIA GRELL set about unloading tables. BABY BROONMARK spreads table cloths by jumping onto the end of each one and, relying on static cling, shuffling down the table dragging the end with him. The more responsible children, policed by BABY ELARA, take the broad vats and plates of food and start arranging them.
BABY GAULT, to BABY MAKO: Can I interest you in a fine hat?
BABY GAULT takes one of the leafy cornucopia centerpieces and balances it on his horns to illustrate. KHEM VAL sweeps it off his head and back onto the table.
BABY GAULT: Jeez, just trying to get into the holiday spirit of entrepreneurism.
KHEM VAL: Thanksgiving Day is not about entrepreneurism.
BABY GAULT: Every day is about entrepreneurism, Mr. Khem Val.
BABY MAKO, soothingly: I thought it was a good hat.
BABY GAULT: Enough to pay for it?
BABY MAKO: No.

KID LOKIN hesitates over the two-person carry of a tremendous turkey or possibly larger fauna. His eyes dilate as he stares at its crackling, juicy majesty.
BABY KIRA: Hungry much?
KID LOKIN: Maybe I'd better go vegetarian today.

BABY TANNO VIK: Don't put the chocolate cake near me. I'm allergic. Just bring over the pumpkin pie...and the cheesecake...yep, and the blueberry one...just keep 'em coming.
BABY ELARA: No sampling!
BABY TANNO VIK: This isn't sampling. It's digging in at full speed.

KHEM VAL, to the group in general: Be grateful that these are not the dining halls of Yn and Chabosh, where acolytes fought to the death for the honor of getting seconds.
BABY KIRA: It's not a dining hall at all. It's outdoors.
KHEM VAL, leaning down: Also be grateful I tolerate nitpickers.

BABY RUSK brings his action figure squad to the table.
BABY RUSK: Oh, no! There aren't enough chairs for you guys!
BABY ASHARA: You could stack them next to your plate so they don't take up much space. Just don't feed them, they might find a way to die.
BABY RUSK: Whew. Good thing you were here for tactical advice.

BABY SKADGE heaps food onto his plate. He then relieves BABY VECTOR and BABY TEMPLE of their plates and starts heaping more food.
BABY VECTOR: This is not harmonious.
BABY SKADGE: No, but it's tasty.
BABY TEMPLE: Quit it!
BABY SKADGE: Make me, runt!
BABY TEMPLE squinches up her face and raises a hand. An itty-bitty Force push knocks BABY SKADGE in the nose.
BABY SKADGE blinks.

BABY SKADGE, gingerly pushing BABY TEMPLE's plate back to her: Here you go.
BABY TEMPLE looks furtively around. Nobody else seems to have noticed.
BABY VECTOR: We will not tell anyone.
BABY TEMPLE: "We" being only one of you. Right?

BABY DOC: Listen, guys, I'm very concerned about the nutritional value of this feast. It's full of...uh...fats! And calameries.
KHEM VAL: Calories.
BABY DOC: Exactly. For safety you'd better bring the turkey over here. It's all right, I can get rid of it for you. Don't panic, baby.
NADIA GRELL: I'm not a baby.
BABY DOC: Figure of speech, babe.
NADIA GRELL glares.
BABY DOC: Uh, never mind.
BABY THARAN: You make an excellent point about nutrition, though. How many species here can actually derive benefit from this - he eyes the lavish spread - limited quantity of food? Has a dietitian vetted this?
MY LITTLE HOLIDAY: It looks like something worth giving thanks for to me.
BABY THARAN: Yes, my dear, but you don't eat.

BABY QYZEN FESS goes rocketing down the center of the long tables, touching every single plate and tub of food.
BABY QYZEN FESS: Tag! Tag! Tag!
BABY RISHA: Ew. How can you possibly get points before the Scorekeeper for things that can't even move?
BABY QYZEN FESS is already long gone.

BABY MAKO taps her cybernetics.
BABY MAKO: Hey, Theron? You guys getting any of this?
BABY THERON: Well, Mr. Teeseven just handed out tiny pies and Miss SCORPIO has shut down for the day. I donít know how much more grateful it gets.

BABY ZENITH: Hey. Guss. Want to be my taster?
BABY GUSS: I like tasting.
BABY ZENITH: Great. Sample everything here so I can see if you die after eating it.
BABY GUSS's mouth falls open.
BABY ZENITH: Somebody's got to do it.
KHEM VAL: The food is not poisoned.
BABY ZENITH: Just saying. Trust, but get somebody less important than you to verify.

BABY ANDRONIKOS: Wasn't expecting to see you all the way over here, Iresso.
BABY IRESSO: Jorgan can't yell at me if I'm two tables down.
BABY JORGAN, from two tables down: I heard that, soldier!
BABY ANDRONIKOS snickers.

BABY QUINN was late to the seating.
BABY QUINN: I don't want to sit next to an anarchist.
BABY KALIYO: I don't want to sit next to a walking tactical disaster. We all have problems.
BABY QUINN: And I don't want to sit next to another anarchist.
BABY BLIZZ: [incomprehensible jabbering]
BABY QUINN: Does anyone understand what he's saying?
BABY AKAAVI, from across the table: Yes.
BABY QUINN: Oh. Must be an alien thing.
BABY AKAAVI: No.
BABY QUINN makes a face and sits down between BABY KALIYO and BABY BLIZZ. Seconds later he sits up straight and slaps BABY BLIZZ's hand away from his standard-issue Imperial blaster.
BABY QUINN: No using my stuff for Jawa tomfoolery!
BABY KALIYO, smiling: Maybe if you'd paid attention in time to find a safer place to sit.
BABY QUINN: I could probably have planned this better.

The children are just about ready to start. BABY CORSO is sitting in front of a gelatinous mound of cranberry jelly. BABY JAESA sits beside him.
BABY CORSO, reaching for the serving spoon and moving it slightly toward BABY JAESA: Here. Ladies first.
The cranberry jelly glistens. It smells of fruit and happiness.
BABY CORSO, hand spasming on the spoon: Ladies...first...
BABY JAESA: You doing all right there?
BABY CORSO: TAKE IT BEFORE I CHANGE MY MIND

BABY VETTE climbs up on the table to reach a vat of gravy for her mashed potatoes. She slips on a tuft of BABY BROONMARK fur, accidentally bumping BABY RUSK's stack of action figures. The whole pile falls over into the corn bowl.
BABY RUSK: No! My squad!
BABY TORIAN: They should be fine after you dry them out.
BABY RUSK: I would expect you of all people to understand the sacrifices of our troops.
BABY TORIAN: Being covered in wet corn doesn't really damage your honor.
BABY RUSK: No one understands being a soldier.

BABY ELARA stands up and taps her sippy cup with her spoon. It doesn't make much noise.
BABY JORGAN: Hey! Listen up!
The table quiets.
BABY ELARA: I just wanted to say, to found family! Three cheers!
BABY VETTE and BABY RISHA: Hooray!
BABY QYZEN FESS and BABY MAKO: Hooray!
BABIES AKAAVI, TORIAN, and ALL ASSEMBLED: Hooray!


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