by Danika Stone
“Liv?” Rustling echoed in the background. “You all right?”
“I’m fine. I just need to talk to someone.”
“So text me,” Xander mumbled. “Goodness. What century were you born in?”
“But I need to talk to you now, not three hours from now!”
“I cannot imagine anything that can’t wait three hours.” The sound of yawning came through the phone. “There are reasonable ways to wake a person in the morning, you know.”
“From someone who prefers an inkwell to a Sharpie,” Liv said, giggling, “you are a surprising technology snob.” She peeked down at her computer screen. Forty-six new notifications had arrived in the time since she’d woken. “So are you awake yet?”
“Mrrrph. I’m trying … I really am.”
“I’ll take that as a yes. I need you to go online, Xander.”
“As in right now?”
“Yes, now.”
“But I’m so tired,” he moaned. “Can’t this wait?”
“No.”
“Honestly, Liv. How are you awake at all?”
“Please, Xander,” she pleaded, “just do it.”
“All right … let me grab my tablet.” He yawned again. “Okay, I’m online. This better be good.”
“I need you to go to the Starveil wiki.”
There was a pause. “Are you joking? You know how I feel about Star—”
“Just GO.”
“Fine … But only because it’s you asking, dearest.” Liv heard him moving around, the phone being shifted. “All right. I’m over on the dark side. You’d better have the cookies I’ve been promised.”
Liv giggled. “Now find the list of Spartan forums.”
“Where? I don’t see it,” Xander grumbled. “This is really the worst-designed fan page I’ve ever—”
“They’re over on the left side of the page. You see them now?”
“Um … yeah. Yeah, I got it. Which one?”
“Just click on the search box at the top of the list and type in Spartan Survived.”
There was a pause.
“Okay,” Xander said. “I’ve got about a hundred different results. Which one?”
“All of them!” Liv laughed. “That’s me! I’m trending.”
There was a pause of several seconds.
“That’s … you?”
“Yes! That project I was telling you about last night? I kind of started it on my own. I put out a post. It should be the first one on the list.”
Liv heard him moving about, sheets rustling. Xander’s voice returned, brighter than before. “Is this the Spartan Rescue Mission post?”
“Exactly! It’s trending. I’ve got like…” She refreshed her e-mail browser, eyes widening at the new list. “Close to five hundred replies already.”
“Are you kidding me? This is for freaking Starveil. Unbelievable!”
Liv choked back laughter. “Don’t be mad,” she teased. “I’m sure steampunk will have its day.”
She could hear the grin in Xander’s tone. “It already does, Liv dearest. You just have to meet real-life people at cons to truly experience it.”
“So you keep saying.”
“Then why don’t you come with me this summer? Dragon Con is something you must experience to understand. Arden and I are already planning our dual cosplay.”
Liv rolled her eyes at the mention of Xander’s girlfriend. “Wouldn’t that be … kind of weird?”
“Why would it be weird?”
“I dunno … With Arden and you, and then … me?” Liv laughed. “I’m not excited to be a third wheel.”
“Pfft! Arden adores you. Besides, every room is packed that weekend. That’s just how Dragon Con works. My cousin’s coming, too. We could find room for you, if you wanted.”
“I don’t think so. But thanks.”
“Not a problem,” Xander said. “And seriously, Liv, this whole thing you did with the Starveil post is fantastic. Bravo, dearest! Five hundred overnight is … It’s amazing! I’m in awe.”
“Thanks, Xander. That means a lot.” She grinned. “So are you ready to start a revolution?”
He chuckled. “I think it’s already started.”
* * *
“Where does the belt go?” Xander’s irritated voice came, disembodied, from the other side of the door.
“In the belt loops.” Liv laughed.
“Not that belt,” he said. “The other one. The, er … fancy one.”
Liv frowned in confusion. There was only one belt on the costume she’d handed him. She closed her eyes, ticking through the different parts of the resistance uniform.
“Can you describe it for me?”
“It’s got these, um … silver things glued to it?” Xander made a snorting sound. “I don’t know, Liv. This is all a bit showy, if you ask me.”
Liv began to giggle. “That’s not a belt. That’s a bandolier for your blaster.” Her laughter grew. “It goes across your chest.”
The bathroom door opened a crack. “Blaster as in a gun?”
“Yes, Xander. Just throw the strap over your shoulder and…”
Liv’s words disappeared as the door opened the rest of the way.
Xander stepped forward. Only it wasn’t Xander at all, it was a Starveil resistance fighter. His hair was no longer pomaded into a smooth coiffure, but hung loose into brooding eyes. The signature coat of the Rebels hugged muscular arms, and rank pins twinkled on his lapel.
“Well,” Xander said, lifting a brow. “Do I look rebellious enough for you?”
Liv couldn’t speak. The words literally wouldn’t move past her slack lips. Xander’s hooded eyes suggested wicked deeds about to be unveiled, and her heart was in overtime with the mere thought of what they’d be. Liv had seen many people’s cosplay, but none had affected her like this. Her gaze moved from head to toe and back up, absorbing details like parched soil drawing in rain.
“I … you…”
“How does the rest of it look?” Xander turned in a circle, the ragged coattails swirling. It was like seeing a character from a movie alive and well in her living room. Liv’s mind just couldn’t put together Xander—with his old-world charm and debonair good looks—and this smoldering Rebel leader. “Does the jacket fit all right?” he asked. “I can’t see the back.”
Liv turned away. “I-it’s good, Xander.” She cleared her throat. “Really good. You definitely have the Rebel look.”
“I didn’t shave today. You notice?” He caught hold of Liv’s fingers and rubbed them across the edge of his jaw. “See? Truth in art.”
Her breath caught in her throat. She was standing far too close to Xander, and she wasn’t certain how she’d gotten there. “Yeah. I guess so.” She forced a smile as she stepped back. “So are you ready to film?”
Xander grinned. “Let’s give Arden a sneak peek, first.”
He pulled out his phone and placed it in her hand, but the second Liv lifted it, Xander stepped up next to her and slid an arm over her shoulder. His scruff brushed the edge of her cheek as he leaned in for the picture.
“Ready for a selfie, m’lady?”
Liv pasted a grin on her face and clicked.
* * *
Hours later, their video was finally coming together.
“You’re doing it again.” Liv laughed.
Xander moved back from the computer screen and settled into the chair next to her. “Apologies, dear. Just watching.”
“Sitting would help. You make a better door than a window, you know.”
Xander put his hand over his heart and dropped his chin. “If you want me to leave you in peace, just say the words. I’ll go.”
Liv’s eyes were starting to blur, but she had every intention of finishing the editing before she crashed for the night. She’d expected Xander to leave after they finished filming, but near midnight he was still at her side, watching as the raw footage transformed.
“I’m fine either way,” Liv said, expanding the vi
deo’s timeline. “But I need to be able to see the screen.”
He nudged her with his elbow. “I’ll be good. I promise.”
“You’d better be.”
“Or what?”
“Or this will never get finished!”
The footage Liv had ripped from illegal online downloads was now hashed into a montage that looked surprisingly real. She’d matched the colors of the original movie’s background with those from other sources. Kubrick’s 2001 might be half a century old, but it pulled off the look of space better than most sci-fi action movies Liv had seen. Combined with some bits that Brian had sent her the previous year—when Liv’s vidding had been her driving passion—she had what looked like a very realistic (if actorless) segment of Starveil footage.
“The first part was just a warm-up, are you ready to jump into the fun stuff?” Liv asked.
“Most definitely.”
“Then watch and learn.…”
Liv pulled up a shot of Xander in costume as Major Malloy. He stood against the background of a blue tarp hung on one wall of Liv’s bedroom. She placed it onto the timeline above the combined shots.
“That’s me!” Xander shouted.
“Shh! My mom’s asleep.” She giggled. “And it’s Major R. C. Malloy if you’re on-screen.”
“Yes, yes. I look so good in that role.”
“You’ll look even better when we put you into the film.”
Xander leaned closer, the lace of his cuff brushing her arm. “Wonderful,” he breathed. “You’re really good at this, Liv.”
“Thanks.”
“So what’s next?”
Liv popped open the effects panel. “Well, I’m going to use chroma key here”—she dragged it onto his raw clip—“to select the color behind you.” She popped open another panel, using quick keys. “And then we’ll pull the blue color out so the montage we just made is right behind you.”
Xander frowned. “Google translate that please.”
Liv grinned. “You’ll be on Io, Xander.” She selected the color, moving to the effects control panel. “Right about—”
Xander’s phone buzzed, and he dropped his eyes from the screen, scrolling through a text. He sighed.
“Gotta go?” Liv asked.
“I don’t want to, but I kind of have to. Arden’s on her way over right now and…” He looked back up. “Wait—WHAT?!” He leaned closer. “What did you do?! I’m—I’m on Io! Like I’m actually standing on the surface of the moon.” He jumped to his feet, the phone forgotten in his hand. “Wait—show me how you did that!”
Liv smothered a fit of exhausted laughter. “Hold on, hold on. I’ll undo.” She clicked the effect off and on, and Xander flickered back and forth from blue screen to Io. “See? A bit of vidding magic and … ta-da! You’re there.”
“Unbelievable,” Xander said. “You really have a talent with this, Liv. Someday you should—”
Another text buzzed his phone. He groaned.
“You should go,” Liv said. “It’s late, and I kept you all day.” She forced a smile she didn’t totally feel. “Tell Arden I say hi.”
Xander stared longingly at the laptop screen. “Are you sure?”
“The rest is just a bit of polishing. I’ll show you the finished vid tomorrow, all right?”
“Fair enough,” he said, gathering his embroidered jacket and pulling it on. “Arden should be here in a few minutes. She got off work hours ago.”
“Thanks again for the help, Xander. You look awesome.” Liv stretched her arms over her head, a series of pops running up her spine.
“That is utterly disgusting.”
Liv shook her head. “Don’t say vidders don’t suffer for their craft.”
“Wouldn’t think of it.” He took two steps toward her door. “I’ll just head outside and wait for Arden to—” Xander spun back around. “Hey, do you mind if I show her?”
Liv frowned. “Show her what?”
“The film.”
“But it’s not done.”
“It looks so good already!”
“Um … I don’t know if—”
Xander’s phone interrupted, followed almost immediately by the shrill peal of the doorbell. “Shit!” Liv hissed. “My mom’s sleeping!”
“Sorry! My fault. Should’ve warned her.” Xander sprinted for the door, phone in hand. “I’ll get the door. Arden’s waiting outside.”
Two pairs of footsteps returned. Liv swiveled away from the computer, pasting a smile on her lips and bracing for the attack. Encountering Arden was like tangling with a very perky, fit-bodied hurricane. After the storm passed, Liv found herself picking up the detritus—the pink lip-stain on her cheek, the cloying body mist clinging to her clothes, the tangled hair and lost earrings. Arden’s demonstrative nature made Liv anxious.
“Liv! How’ve you been?!” Arden threw her arms around Liv’s neck, hugging tight. “Can’t wait to see this! Xander’s been texting me about your project all day.”
“He has?”
“It sounds amazing!”
The trouble with Arden, Liv thought, was that she was almost too likable.
“So scoot over,” Arden said, sliding half onto Liv’s lap. “I want to see this!”
Liv moved over until only half her bum gripped the edge of the chair. “There’s not that much to see,” she said, stalling.
“Not true,” Xander tutted. He pulled a second chair out and offered Arden his hand, assisting her to her own seat. “Liv has done a remarkable job. I’ve no idea what the finished version will be, but the B-roll, on its own, is spectacular.”
“That’s an exaggeration, Xander.”
“It’s not. Now show us, please.”
Arden squeezed her arm, smiling. “Please, Liv? I’d really love to see.”
With a sigh, Liv hit Play. The Starveil theme began, interspersed with bits of footage. When they arrived at Io, Xander abruptly appeared.
“Oh my God, it’s Xander.” Arden laughed. “That’s fantastic, Liv.” She turned to him. “You look great, babe!”
Xander preened under her attention as the remaining clip played. Liv flicked it off as they reached the last scene.
“And that’s it.”
“That’s just amazing!” Arden said, applauding. “You’ve got some mad skills, Liv.”
“Thanks.”
“And you”—Arden slid her arms over Xander’s shoulders—“are looking particularly sexy as the major.”
“Thank you, my sweet.”
Liv flinched as the distinct sounds of kissing came from behind her. “If it’s okay,” she said, not looking up, “I’ll just get back to work then.”
“Of course, dearest.” Xander chuckled. “We’ll see ourselves out.”
Liv peeked back over her shoulder. Xander caught Liv’s eyes as they headed out the door. “Until tomorrow, I bid you adieu!”
“Later.”
The front door closed behind them, and Liv was alone once more.
She cracked her knuckles and turned back to the screen. The challenge post was burning up the Internet. Her @SpartanSurvived Twitter account had ten times as many followers as her private account, and her online friends had no idea who the force behind the challenge was.
“And it’s going to stay that way,” Liv muttered to the empty room.
If #SpartanSurvived failed in its efforts, no one would be the wiser. There was no risk to her online persona. No backlash from haters. Anonymity’s cloak both protected her and kept the torch of Spartan alive. Because as much as fandom knew a fan had created the post, the faceless message held the faint promise of authenticity. And if people believed it, then the magic was real. They could change Spartan’s fate because they thought they could, and tonight’s video would cast the first spell.
She opened the After Effects program, waiting for it to load. “And now, the magic really begins.…”
* * *
Channel: https://www.youtube.com/user/SpartanSurvived
H
ome page-Video 1: Call to Arms
The video opened with a flickering black screen. It crackled and buzzed, shimmering with interference. In seconds the static coalesced into militaristic black text against a grainy background: Surveillance Photos from the Space Probe Janus, Omega Quadrant. With a final crackle, it flicked to what appeared to be a black background, but which was, on closer inspection, the void of space.
On-screen, a single escape pod passed in front of the camera. (Though layered with textures, the image was recognizable as the final scene of Starveil Five.) Partway across the screen, the image jittered, the video feed ignoring the distant pod in order to return to the floating detritus of the destroyed Star Freighter Elysium.
Bits of broken metal floated past on a backdrop of stars, until—in time to the first strains of the well-known Starveil Rebellion theme—a single blip of light appeared in the distance. Was it a probe? A distant satellite? The light sparked once, twice … The camera zoomed forward into the flashes, footage growing increasingly pixelated until it dissolved into a lens flare, then snapped out entirely.
The music rose in crescendo on the black screen.
The camera pulled back from an extreme close-up of a man’s jacket. Black-haired and unsmiling, an unknown resistance fighter filled the screen. His major’s rank was emblazoned across his tattered jacket, a carbon-smeared blaster tucked nonchalantly into his belt. The man’s posture was stiff despite his ragged clothes, his jaw clenched as he stared daggers into the camera. A Rebel code flashed across the top of the screen, and a robotic voice announced: “Rebellion leader, Major R. C. Malloy. Previously of the Rebel Base Io.”
Called to attention, the man strode forward, and the gentle swell of music dropped as he spoke. His voice carried the lilt of Old Terra, educated and icily controlled.
“Attention, comrades. This message is for Rebels across our star system and beyond. As you’ve no doubt heard, Captain Matt Spartan, commander of the Star Freighter Elysium, has been reported missing in action. Until this footage was acquired by Rebel command a few hours ago, Captain Spartan was assumed dead.” The man’s voice crackled with contempt. “That assumption is incorrect!”
The man disappeared as the video jumped to another scene, this one taken from inside the hangar of the Star Freighter Elysium in its final moments. It showed Spartan throwing himself through the open hatch of a shuttle while flames washed the screen. (It was a clip only die-hard fans would recognize as a behind-the-scenes shot taken from the collector’s edition of the second Starveil film.) Tongues of flame burned up the sides of the shuttle as an electronic voice shouted a countdown: “Five … Four … Three…” The camera cut to a point-of-view shot of Spartan’s hands, tapping in a jump-code as explosions filled the air.