Rating: PG
Summary: Zora and Talla meet katte's challenge
Type: Semi-AU, takes place well after "What Says the Wind?"
Archive: Sure

Disclaimer: This is George Lucas's Sandbox. I'm just playing with the sand
that fell out.
Warnings: Slash, implied. Sapphic kiss. Original characters. Homophobia.
Silliness. Header longer than the fic.

Notes: The challenge: Write a fic that includes:
1. a song from lion king
2. jedi/sith slang
3. Smog (yes the dragon) (Er, that's "Smaug")
4. a beauty contest for men
5. the line "who's your jedi master?" in the "who's your daddy" context 6. a corny romance novel 7. a sex magazine fitting for the sw world (preferably if the person
reading it is in the toilet)
8. a classic shot of coca cola
9. an anime moment
10. a ty beanie baby

Also, the Rebel Whore and Flyboy Magazines are found here:
http://www.shabbyblue.net

Scylla belongs to Vic Coopers, I'm just borrowing her.

Feedback: I crave it. It's my favorite high.

****
A Day in the Life
2002 Angelia Sparrow

*****

Zora tipped the brim of her hat up and glanced over at the holo. Same old,
same old. Imperial programming had been boring enough, but the New Republic
didn't seem to do much better. Always cash strapped, the Republic had
introduced the idea of commercials. And here on the Rim, programmers
weren't picky about their sponsors.

"Now downloadable from Stellnet! The soaring new romance novel by Scylla!
Yearn with Elanthia Stardust for the Imperial Admiral who spared her life.
Thrill to her endless quest for him. Rejoice at their reunion. Download
_Grey Man of my Dreams_ today!"

"Hey partner. Your flameout. So, whaddaya think? Should we take the
bootleg holo run or that one with the cute bean-stuffed critters with the
heart tags on their ears?" She downed her shot of coke.

"Critters. Legal."

"Right right. Like we never did anything unethical. Hey, check that!"

The holo boomed: "Coming soon to a world near you! Open to all male
sentients, the first annual Galactic Man competition! Finalists get an
all-expense paid trip to Coruscant, and compete for the coveted title of
Galactic Man! The paragon of maleness to whom the whole galaxy looks for
inspiration." The Galactic Man logo beamed bright and glittery against a
set background.

"Yeah! I gotta sign me up right away!" yelled a plug-ugly at the bar.

Another man carried an imaginary scepter and minced down a runway, lisping,
"Oh, Oh, I'm tho thrilled to be this year's Galactic Man, paragon of
maleness. Come over here honey and let me show you." He rubbed up against
the plug-ugly making kissy-faces. The bar roared.

An announcer came out and Zora gasped. "Calrissian." The former gambler
looked incredibly handsome, as he sat down and began explaining the contest.

"Nah, can't be. He's a general or something. Why would he be hosting
something like this? Unless its a scam. But if it was a scam..." Talla
blasphemed three gods in four languages. "Solo!"

"Cheelooda," added Zora, seeing the face of the blond man on her former
boss' arm.

"And here are two of our judges right now," Lando continued. "These men
need no introduction."

Han and Luke sat down uncomfortably, looking as if they'd rather be anywhere
in the galaxy than in front of their good friend's holo cameras.

Someone in the bar noticed their linked hands and, as the holo cut to a
tight close-up of Solo, hooted, "Yeah! Who's your Jedi Master, huh? Who's
your Jedi Master!" Grunting and much hilarity followed this statement.

"Circle of life and all that, I guess." Talla continued, draining her
coca-cola. Zora couldn't stand the stuff, it made her giggly and
light-headed. "Let's load those critters, shall we? I'm glad we picked
them, they're really cute. And where we're going, they cost 50 credits
each. Lessee, fifty credits times a hundred critters per crate, and a
hundred crates, and we get a thirty percent commission--"

"Hundred-seventy thousand." Zora cut off her calculations. She fired up a
red smokestick. Unlike the green odor-killer, this one was laced with
adrenalin and testosterone. She liked these far too well, and used them
sparingly. But moving and stowing a hundred crates was going to take more
than she had in her at the moment.

The women shuffled the crates aboard the Snowstar without delay, and Zora
programmed the jump.

"So they're alive and well. Solo never found out we nicked the petty cash.
Glad of that. We could repay him, but he probably decided to let us keep it
in lieu of pay. Luke grew up pretty nicely, huh? Jedi Master." Talla
whistled under her breath. "And they're still together, that's sweet.
Here, catch,"

She tossed Zora one of their cargo, a red and gold dragon. Zora snagged it
easily in mid air, and turned it over in her hand. She opened the tag.

"Smaug. Cute."

"Keep it. It's a bonus from Ty, the guy who makes them."

"Mascot." Zora sat the small dragon atop the navi'puter. She yawned and
stretched, before leaning over to kiss her partner invasively.

"Zora! Lay off the red ones," Talla protested. "I have to take watch.
There's a Rebel Whore mag back in the ‘fresher."

"Leia pictoral?"

"Yep. The Bespin one. And a copy of Rebelz. Special all Skywalker
Edition. If you're in a cheelooda mood. Got a pictoral of him doing Leia.
There may be a couple of Flyboyz as well."

"Mmm, Princess..." Zora swaggered off to the fresher, and the naked
Alderaani being abused by the Lord Vader.

"One of these days I am so going to make that Sithwitch quit with that red
smoke," Talla said to the little dragon.