Authors: Danika Stone
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 video’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
Home 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.
The screen went white.
The unnamed Rebel leader reappeared, and the jaunty trill of the original
Starveil
theme filled the air. The man’s fists were poised on his hips. He stood in front of a map, which marked the many Rebel bases from all quadrants of the galaxy. (The image was a fan-created graphic borrowed from the current
Starveil
wiki.) The camera whizzed into a close-up of the major’s face. His straight-edged jaw was brushed by a blue shadow of stubble, disheveled strands of black hair hanging into brooding eyes.
“Your determination. Your research. Your proof of Spartan’s whereabouts are the only hope we have for his safe return.” The camera cut to a medium shot—showing the ragged edge of the Rebel coat, light glittering on the metal barrel of a blaster—and then back to a close-up of his face. A wide shot of the Rebel base on Io (recognizable from the fourth
Starveil
film) appeared for a moment. Two men—Matt Spartan and someone who might have been Major Malloy—stood side by side, laughing in the foreground.
“Matt Spartan fought alongside me on Sardis. He saved my life, and I intend to do the same for him.”
The on-screen image switched back to a rendering of the solar system, the major posed in front of it. He pointed to a glowing spot on the screen, and the map swirled in response.
“There are other people in the Rebellion—other troops and resistance fighters—who may have seen Captain Spartan…” More pointing, more points of light across the solar system. “These people have given us the first hints of his whereabouts. It is my utmost hope
you
are one of them.
“We need to take up Spartan’s fight, no matter what the personal risk.” The man glared into the camera, and the music’s tempo shot up. “Join us!” he shouted. “Show us where you’ve seen Spartan alive. Tell us the rumors you’ve heard. And the Rebels will bring him back for you … alive!”