Agent Gerald Maytag answered the knock at his hotel room door to find his partner Heather Stanton standing in the hall in a long white dress with bell bottom sleeves.

Stanton opened her arms in a gesture that invited inspection. With a slight turn to the side she asked "So, how do my buns look?"

"Outstanding," Maytag said with a giggle. "Can I touch them?"

"Go ahead," she said.

Gingerly, Maytag reached out with his right arm, then his left. "They're really firm!"

"It's the hair spray," Stanton told him. "So, really, how do I look?"

"Those look exactly like the bagels she had on the sides of her head in the movie. Except for the blue eyes, you make a terrific Princess Leia. The dress is perfect, too."

"I know, I think it's hilarious!" Stanton took a moment to look down at the flowing outfit. She lifted the skirt a bit. "It's a shame the thing is so long, these white go-go boots are a trip. You look pretty good yourself, rebel!"

Maytag took his turn to show off his costume. He wore a white tunic with a draw string neck left mostly open, and over that a beige pocket vest. A wide brown belt held up his tan pants, but they fit so tight that a belt hardly seemed necessary. The pants fit his legs snugly and tucked into a pair of dark brown leather calf-length boots. A holster lashed to his upper right thigh completed the ensemble.

"Where did you get the laser pistol?" Stanton asked.

"Blaster," Maytag corrected her as he drew the weapon. "I have it on consignment from one of the collector's booths downstairs. He wanted more in the form of ID and security deposit than most actual gun dealers."

"Oh, sure, real guns are all over. But a genuine blaster, Maytag..."

"It is cool, isn't it?" Maytag exclaimed gleefully.

Stanton smiled. "Glad to see you're enjoying yourself. I'm still surprised that you didn't go for the Jedi costume."

Maytag shrugged. "Without a light saber, I just don't see the point."

"Let me get this straight: non-functional light sabers are bad, but a fake blaster or whatever is cool?"

"It shoots paint pellets!" Maytag said.

"Nice," Stanton said. "That's great, Maytag. Try not to get the other kids in trouble by staining their clothes. C'mon, let's go before my hair spray wears off."

Downstairs the hotel lobby gave way to the Civic Center, where the Unconventional Science Fiction Convention, known to its devoted attendees as UnConCon, was in full swing. This convention always leaned toward fans of the Star Wars universe, and George Lucas's revival of the series only accentuated that in recent years. There was nary a Klingon, druid, or costumed super hero in sight among the throngs of costumed enthusiasts and curious onlookers in shorts or blue jeans.

Maytag and Stanton were more than curious onlookers. They were here with a mission: someone had been on the Internet releasing home made videos using characters from the Star Wars universe. Normally, that was tolerated as part of having a rabid fan base. But these movies took love of the material a little too far, body fluids included. Lawyers were not happy about that, and wanted Maytag and Stanton to stop it from happening again. The last video had "see you at UnConCon" as its ending, so that's where the duo went to find the amateur film makers.

They were not having much luck, but Maytag was doing a good job with his shopping. In between trying to learn about parties, he had bought himself a pair of thermal detonators. Playthings, really, about the size of a racquetball, highly elastic, transparent with LEDs under the surface. If you bounced them, a spring mechanism transferred the energy to the lights, making them flicker with impending doom. Metallic finish over the areas not housing lights finished the illusion. Stanton's amusement with Maytag's enthusiasm was wearing thin.

A vendor with a balding pate and a large collection of weapons and equipment on the table in front of him caught sight of Maytag looking over his wares. "That's a nice looking blaster you have there, rebel," he called out. "How about something to go along with? I have a nice set of communicators for you and the princess."

Maytag walked over to the table and saw a pair of short metal tubes, about the shape of a travel-sized shaving cream can, with a push button on the side and wire mesh on one end. They looked like the communicators from the movies, if only a bit thicker. "Do they work?"

"Absolutely," the man said. "A guy I know converts Motorola two-ways into these. Want to give them a try?"

Maytag looked down at the price. "Seems a little steep."

"You get what you pay for, believe me. This is quality work, he machines everything himself. Tougher than the originals, I'll tell you that. You can drop these from twenty feet and nothing would happen to them."

"How much to rent the communicators for the weekend?" Maytag asked.

"Can't do it," the salesman said. "I can't trust you to bring them back. Besides, I'll move these things today, no problem."

"Well, if you're sure you can move them, why not make a little extra by renting them first? You can trust me, I'm an FBI agent."

"I think you have your costumes mixed up, pal."

Stanton laughed out loud from that. A kid who had been examining the hardware looked up at her. "Nice hair. But Leia's eyes aren't blue," he told her.

"Thanks," Stanton said. "I'll be sure to fix that next time."

The kid put something back down on the table and walked away. Maytag picked it up. "Is this a grappling hook?"

"Yep. The line is tested to 500 lbs. You and Leia can swing all you want. If that's your thing."

Stanton picked up on that. "That's definitely our thing. Any idea where swingers might look for a party around here."

"Sorry, your highness. I do a nice little trade here in custom pieces. But when the floor closes up I go back to my room and watch TV. You'll have to ask someone else about the social scene."

Maytag was far too interested in the grappling hook to think about Stanton's line of questioning. "Will this attach to my belt?"

"Sure thing," the man said.

"How much?" Maytag asked.

The man gave him a figure. "Tell you what, you buy that, and for a little extra I'll let you rent the communicators for the night."

"Deal!" Maytag said. He did not even wait for the credit card transaction to clear before putting on his new gear. He handed Stanton a communicator. A broad smile split his face. "Cool, huh?"

"Great, Maytag."

"Walk over there," Maytag pointed. "I want to try these out."

"I don't know why you even got these, Maytag. The last thing I plan on doing here is getting separated from you and wandering around on my own."

"Just try it," Maytag pled.

Stanton walked to another display table, this one selling various bits of signed memorabilia. A teenager with shaggy dark hair and a thin wispy mustache looked over at her. "Great costume, but Princess Leia has dark eyes."

"Maytag," she said into the communicator, "if you can hear me, come get me out of here."

"This just isn't working is it? I think we need to reevaluate our intelligence gathering," Maytag observed when reunited.

"I think you're right," Stanton said. "And I think I know where to start."

"Where's that?"

"Just like in the movies," Stanton said, pointing to a flashing neon sign in the corner that blazed the single word, Cantina. "If you want information, head to a bar."

*

The two agents made their way to the corner of the convention center, and found a bustling bar. There was no other term for it, although it was decidedly unlike other bars they had been to. Storm troopers with their helmets off hung together in bunches, laughing loudly like other servicemen might. Alien heads sipped on drinks through tall straws that penetrated their masks. The beverages ranged all colors of the spectrum, and a lot of them gave off white smoke.

"They must go through a lot of dry ice," Maytag remarked.

"And food dye," Stanton added. "Is that blue milk over on that table?"

"Speaking of food dye," Maytag said, "Check out the bartender."

Stanton looked over at the bar and her face contorted in bewilderment. Behind the bar was a tall man whose skin was undeniably orange, the color of ripe apricots. That was not what caused her reaction, however. In place of hair, two thick limbs sprouted from his head, tapering along their length down to finger-width tips. They were long enough that one wrapped around his neck before draping over the back of his shoulder. He wore the other one the opposite way, so that the small end hung over his right shoulder and terminated at mid chest level on black v-neck top.

"What is that?" Stanton asked.

"One hell of a costume," Maytag answered.

"I don't remember anything like that from the movies."

"Bib Fortuna looked like that," Maytag said matter of factly. "He was Jabba the Hutt's right hand man in 'Return of the Jedi.' Different skin color, though." He looked over to see Stanton giving him the same wrinkled face she wore when first seeing the barkeep. "Oh, don't look at me like that, Stanton. I was a kid when the movies came out, and I have a very good memory, OK?"

Maytag approached the bar and a highly amused Stanton followed him. "You had a Bit Fortuna doll, didn't you?" she asked.

"Bib Fortuna," he said, "two B's. And I never had one of him. By the way, they're called action figures, not dolls."

"Excuse me," Stanton said. "I would never accuse a man with a paintball gun and grappling hook of collecting dolls."

They stepped to the bar and took seats. The bartender made his way over to them. "What can I get you?"

"Is that beer?" Maytag pointed to a glass at the end of the bar.

"Corellian ale. And by Corellian, I mean non-alcoholic."

"I'll take one," Maytag said.

"And you?" the bartender asked Stanton.

"I have no idea. Do you have some kind of juice?"

"Big galaxy," he said with a smile. "We have all kinds of juice."

Stanton took a closer look at him as he leaned on the bar in front of her. Despite the skin color and the horns or whatever they were, he was actually a good looking man, with strong features and full lips. It even took a moment for Stanton to realize the man had shaved his eyebrows. Only a handsome face could take on those factors and still appear attractive. He was still grinning, and Stanton found herself rapidly getting used to the orange hue of his skin, if not the strange head gear. "I'll stick with Earth fruit as long as we're here and take an orange juice if you have it."

"Funny how my new customers all seem to choose orange juice when they don't start with a drink in mind." The smile stayed on his face as he poured their drinks.

"I have to say your appearance is quite striking," Maytag said.

"Really? I thought I was only slightly taller than average," he said. The man was staying in character.

Maytag played along. "I mean it's not often that you see one of your people around."

"Twi'lek?" the bartender asked playfully. "I see them all the time. My whole family is Twi'lek."

He had answered their as yet unasked question and made a joke out of it at the same time. Maytag was impressed. His routine was polished. "Well, I can believe that. Here's hoping your bartending is as good as your demeanor, let's say." It was Maytag's best effort at making an oblique compliment on his costume.

"You two make a fine pair yourself. Good gear," he said nodding to Maytag's belt. He turned to Stanton. "And your hair looks perfect." Again, he had acknowledged that they were playing parts, but did so obtusely.

"No comment about my eyes?" Stanton asked.

"Fishing for compliments?" the bartender teased. "I'll just say that your hair style seems to be popular in these parts, and blue eyes add something special."

Now it was Stanton's turn to admire the man's smooth manner. It may even be possible to look past the growth sprouting from his head.

Maytag spoke next. "I'm Gerry, this is Heather."

"Call me Brendo," the bartender said. "If you need anything let me know." He left to take care of other patrons.

"He seemed to know what he was about," Maytag said.

"Yeah he did," Stanton agreed. "If there is anything to know, my guess is he knows it."

Maytag and Stanton looked around and sipped on their drinks. Many people were dressed for the occasion, and they all seemed to be laughing and having a good time. Even the storm troopers and a couple of guys in the fascist looking imperial officer's uniforms acted more gregarious than nefarious.

"Do you think they need to take off the uniform to pee?" Stanton asked.

"I'm sure they solved that problem."

"They certainly did," Brendo said, returning to their end of the bar. "But you should see how long it takes them to dig out some money when the tab is due."

"Funny," Maytag said. "Rebels any better?"

"If you're asking me how to pee in that outfit, I'm afraid you're going to have to figure that out yourself."

"I think I'm all right there," Maytag said. "Brendo, let me ask you what do people do for fun here?"

"Easy. They buy drinks from me."

"He means afterward," Stanton said. "When the exhibition floor closes. You know, parties that kind of thing."

"Plenty of parties. Just ask around, talk to a few people."

"How about you?" Stanton asked. "Do you socialize here?"

"Takes me a while to close up shop and clean. But I'll get around a bit tonight."

"Anything get kind of wild?" Maytag asked.

"Wild? Yeah, but I think you may be on the wrong side for that kind of thing. Lots of bad boys among the storm troopers, especially at UnConCon. You might try finding some smugglers. The Jedi tend to be a little too serious. Even the ones on the dark side."

"I can see that," Stanton said. "They dress like monks after all."

Brendo smiled again. "Something like that."

"In case I did feel like changing loyalties, any idea where the storm troopers are getting together later? I have a feeling that I might not be able to ask myself dressed like this."

"Word has it they have a block of suites on the top floor of the hotel."

"Brendo," Maytag said, "you are both informative and entertaining."

"Thank you," Brendo said. "And to think I haven't even done this for you yet." And with that, the little end of the head appendage that rested on his chest wiggled in place.

*

Sandra got dressed. The yellow thong had cellophane straps so that it looked invisible when the open sides of her dress swayed to show off her hips. The dress itself was a bright orange, and though practically open at the sides it fit high on her neck. All of it looked great compared to the green color of her skin.

The artist took half an hour to apply the body paint to Sandra's spindly frame. It was a lot faster than most subjects Vic painted because she wanted an even color, no patterns, and only up to her neck. The toughest part of the job was matching the color to the mask she brought along with her. Mark took care in doing that, though, and now her skin was the same lime-rind color as the bumpy mask with the big black eyes.

"You look good. I explained how to wash it off, should take about fifteen minutes or so. You need any help with the mask? I've done some makeup work, I could help."

"Thanks," Sandra said. "I think I'll take you up on that."

She wasn't the prettiest subject Vic had ever painted, but she had a good body. He certainly saw enough of it. She stripped down as soon as he mixed the right color, and told him to cover as much of her body as he considered safe. She spread herself open pretty good to let him do just that, and there wasn't a single body hair to get in his way. Sandra was shaved clean. Angling an invite to tag along might be worthwhile.

Sandra dug into her bag and brought out the rest of her kit. She handed Mark the cement that would help keep the latex in place, and a small tin of red lip gloss. "You want to get that ready? Lip gloss first, I think."

"Sure," he replied.

Sandra worked the mask on slowly, tucking her ears into the side pockets that formed the longer, fleshier, alien ears. As she pulled the bottom of the mask over her chin, Sandra's white face disappeared behind a veil of solid green and two large, glassy black eyes. The face was triangular, and smooth, the nose connected to the mouth as a slightly protruding snout. There was some structure there, to keep the snout from sagging, and Sandra pulled it out to snap it back in place over her own lips.

"Looks like Greedo, that dude that Han Solo shot," Vic remarked.

"Same race, Rodian," Sandra answered, through the muffling snout. "Now I'm Nadra Sookee. You can start glossing the lips if you'd like."

The mask fit snugly over her head, but a seam at the top allowed a strip of her sandy brown hair to come through. Sandra teased it up and used hairspray to make a mohawk in the middle of the bumpy green scalp. On the top of the brow of the mask, two short antennae-like appendages sprouted and flared to a suction cup shape.

"This is a pretty good looking mask," Vic commented as he dipped a brush in the bright red lip gloss.

"You get what you pay for," Sandra-turned-Nadra replied. That was true enough. Between the mask and Vic's time, this get-up was a rather expensive proposition for her. That did not even take into account the convention fees and the hotel room. She was intent on getting her money's worth out of the affair.

"I hear the parties at these conventions can get a little out of hand," Vic said as he applied a thin outline of gloss to the tip of Nadra's snout.

That was exactly what Nadra was counting on, but she answered Vic otherwise. "If you like geek fests, sure."

"I was thinking as long as I'm here, I might as well check things out."

This was not what Nadra Sookee had in mind. "You'll need a much better costume than that, I think." She was done with her hair, and eager to lose this guy and get on to the party.

Vic finished applying the makeup. "Well, you could vouch for me. You know me now, right?"

"You know me, now, too," Nadra said evenly. "You could give me the money back for your work." She was smiling, but that did not show through the mask.

"Forget I even asked," Vic said. Artists got to attend plenty of parties. Paying jobs were harder to come by.

"Will do," Nadra replied. She gathered up her stuff and prepared to leave. She had a party to attend.

*

Maytag and Stanton talked to a lot of people, and learned of a lot of social events, but none was poised for a wild movie making session as a private affair among masked and armored storm troopers on the penthouse floor. They were in the lobby, the convention floor emptied, people ate dinner or leaved to get ready for an evening of UnConCon fun.

"I'm going up there," Maytag told his partner.

"They won't let you in," Stanton said.

"I don't expect them to."

"So are you going to use the Jedi mind trick or something?"

"No, just good old fashioned stealth. But we can't even be sure this is where things are going to happen."

"Or if anything is going to happen," Stanton added.

"Or that. So you try to look around elsewhere. You're Princess Leia, you should be able to get in wherever you want."

"Even if my eye color is wrong?"

"Right," Maytag said without a touch of irony. "Just keep that communicator handy."

He left her there and made his way to the elevator bank. She was truly considering what it would take to mingle at parties tonight when a voice interrupted her thoughts.

"Heather," a voice called.

Stanton turned to see Brendo, the orange skinned bartender from earlier in the day, still wearing his head tails. "Hi," she said. "I see you still have your head gear."

"You, too," he said, making a twisting motion with both hands at either side of his head to trace out the buns of Stanton's hairdo. "So where's your friend?"

"Maytag? Oh, he's sniffing out some of the parties."

"You're not interested in the parties?"

"Oh, I have an interest. I'll probably be catching up with him soon."

"But not right away. Can I interest you in a drink? A real drink I mean, not the kiddie stuff I'm allowed to serve inside."

"You don't want to get changed first?" she asked.

"With the crowd they have in this hotel this weekend, I don't think the staff is going to find this look all that odd."

"I just thought you might be uncomfortable like that."

"Oh, I don't even notice. I've grown kind of attached. No pun intended."

"Good," Stanton told him. "I don't like puns."

"I'll keep that in mind."

*

Maytag got off the elevator two floors below the penthouse, the last floor serviced by this elevator. Specific cars operated by room keys led to the top floors. Maytag entered the stairwell next to the elevator bank. The stairs went to the top stories of the building, but the doors only allowed key access. Maytag guessed that there was a good deal of traffic between those floors if storm troopers occupied both floors.

Maytag examined the door mechanism for this floor. Same as above, without the lock. A damper kept the door from flying open or closing too quickly. He opened the door several times and counted off a good seven seconds before the door latch caught.

If he could just hide out for a second as someone went through, he could pass after them. He went back up to the top floors. The stairwell was a simple shaft made of cinderblocks and poured concrete. It afforded no cover. Perhaps behind the door, he thought. The damper would stop him from being hit, but he would be out in the open if someone came up before someone went out. Then he looked up and saw the fire department stand pipe.

The ceiling of this platform was high as this was the last floor of the building. Moreover, when he looked from the landing coming up from below, he could not see the pipe at all. Someone in a helmet looking only to get up the stairs should never even see the pipe. Maytag hadn't until he started looking around.

If he could climb up on the pipe, he would be free to drop down and grab the door. That's what Maytag did, covering himself with dust and having a sneezing fit in the process. It ended just in time, as the door did open. But no one came through.

"You sure they're up there?" a voice asked. It had the unmistakable scratchy quality of sound passing through a storm trooper helmet's amplifier.

"Byers is there now," said a different voice with the same squawk. "If you're looking to get high tonight, this is our best chance. The officers have said no dope in the rooms."

"What about the alarm? The door to the roof is an emergency exit."

The roof! That gave Maytag a shock.

"Desantis bypassed it," the other said.

If they went to the roof, they had to pass under him. They might not see him then but he checked sightlines coming up from below, not above. When they turned on the landing he would be seen.

"Desantis doesn't smoke dope," said the first one.

"No, but he's an electronics freak, and he took it as a personal challenge. C'mon let's go before someone sees us."

Maytag's thoughts exactly. The two did come through, and he barely waited for them to go past before he lowered himself. They were on the first steps when he moved around the corner, and he darted through the closing door with his heart in his throat.

That was too close. Here he was, not in mortal danger, but not exactly in friendly territory either. He had only a vague objective and no plan. Time to change at least part of that. If he could get his hands on a set of white armor for himself, he could move around at will. All he had to do was find some.

Maytag moved to the end of the hall and started to check doors. He made it halfway back to the stairs when he found a door ajar. Someone had thrown out the bolt with the door open to keep the room accessible. Maytag went inside. His luck continued when he saw that the room was connected to the next suite over by an open door. He now had two rooms to search.

Unfortunately, he came up empty in the first room. Things looked to get worse while searching the adjoining room. Maytag heard someone enter through the same open door he had found.

"Go ahead and set up anywhere," said the amplified voice of a storm trooper. Maytag ducked into the space behind the open door connecting the rooms.

"Thanks," came an answer. It did not have the same transmitted quality, but it sounded muffled as well.

Through the gap between door and jamb, Maytag could see the bed of the adjacent room, as well as the window looking out at growing darkness. In the window he made out two reflections, one bright figure the familiar white armor of a storm trooper. The second was a little darker, and the helmet was different, and something rose behind him like a backpack. Then the figure came into view. "Boba Fett!" cried a voice in Maytag's head.

Things had definitely gotten worse.

*

Stanton sipped her martini and looked over at her strangely attractive companion. She was about to say something when he spoke first.

"Tell me something, Heather," Brendo said. "Why are you here, really?"

"It's a convention. Aren't we all here for the same reason?"

"Sure, but I get to know the convention goers from doing these all year long and you're not typical. Neither is your friend, really. He's having a good time, but he's looking for something."

"It's our first time at one of these. You get spectators, right?"

"Yes, just not in costume," Brendo answered.

"Well, some people have to be here for their first time, right?"

"Exactly. Some are newcomers. And some like me are here to make money."

"And a lot of people are here to buy stuff," Stanton answered. "Did you see all the stuff Maytag picked up?"

"That's another thing. I don't understand why your friend left you while he looked for parties."

"I told you I would catch up."

"I believe you. But in particular you were looking for a wild party."

"His idea," she said with a dismissive wave.

"You're obviously not a couple."

"Well, we're close, but not like that."

"Right, close," Brendo sipped his own drink. "Heather, I'm trying to put this delicately, but I fear I have to be a little offensive. Are you two looking to make money here, too?"

"What do you mean?"

"A guy with an attractive woman not romantically involved, he shops around for a wild party wile she waits for word from him..."

Stanton could not believe where this was going. "You think we're soliciting prostitution!"

"I didn't say that exactly."

"But you were getting there."

"Well, I've seen it before. You would not believe how many pimps want to try dressing like Lando Calrissian and working the conventions with their girls."

"Well, that's not what we're doing."

"So you really are here for a good time?"

"That's right," Stanton said, lifting her drink. "So where can a girl find one around here?"

*

The man in the Boba Fett armor positioned a camera atop a tripod and focused it on the bed. "There," he said. "Just start the tape when things get going. I'll meet up with you either late tonight or tomorrow to get the tape."

"Are you sure you don't want to hang around?" the storm trooper asked.

"Not my style," Fett answered. "What about the girl? You sure she's OK with this? I might be able to use this equipment someplace else."

"She'll go along with it. She's just looking for a real good time."

They were joined by another storm trooper. "Prisoner is on the way here. What do I do with this?" He held up a rod holding a black sphere like a tether ball.

"That's my cue to exit," said Fett turning on his heel and striding out.

"What's with him," asked the one with the sphere.

"Bounty hunter," said the other. "Too much of a loner for the group thing, I guess."

The storm trooper rested the staff against the wall and Maytag got a better look. The sphere was a solid, shiny black, layered with small bits of metal, and other decorations. Protruding tangentially from its middle circumference was a long, thin black cylinder, ending in a tapered point, with a silver stripe down its side.

Next, more storm troopers arrived, with what had to be the aforementioned prisoner. She wore an orange dress, slit at the sides to reveal quite a bit of leg: green leg. She was green head to toe, and her head featured large black eyes, a long snout that ended in elliptical lips painted red, a second set of ears shaped like radar dishes on her forehead, and a shocking brown mohawk surrounded by a bumpy green scalp. Binders held her hands together. The mask and coloring were excellent, Maytag noted. He only knew it was a woman because the slightly curved shape under that dress simply could not be anything else. They sat her on the edge of the bed.

"Nadra Sookee," a stormtrooper squawked. The green woman looked up. "Do you know what kind of trouble you're in?"

"I've done nothing," she said. "There's been a misunderstanding. I just came here for a party."

"A party?" said another, brandishing his blaster menacingly. "Does this look like a party?"

Nadra looked around the room at the faceless soldiers in their helmets. Uncaring dark lenses looked back at her. White armor that mimicked pectoral muscles and transcended them at the same time. Black gloves, white cod pieces. It looked like the start of a party. "I don't know what kind of answer you want from me," she said.

"The truth," said one storm trooper. "And we're going to get it. Prepare the interrogation droid!"

"Hey," one guy nudged another. "I'll get that. You turn on that camera." That one walked to the wall and lifted the pole in the air. Another took hold of the black sphere and pressed a switch on its belly. Lights came to life along its surface and it gave off a disturbing low pitched warble.

"Turn the prisoner over!" the lead storm trooper ordered.

"That's what I'm talking about," said the one holding the pole.

Two storm troopers turned the green skinned woman over. Now she knelt over the edge of the bed with her arms straight out in front of her, wrists still bound. The lead trooper lifted the day-glo orange dress to reveal her legs completely. She wore a banana yellow thong that cleaved her green ass in two. Her hips were slender, her bottom small. The trooper gave it a slap and rubbed it with his gloved hand.

Nadra looked up at a storm trooper standing on the other side of the bed. He might have been licking his lips, he might have worn a look of utter contempt, but the helmet presented an impassive mask. These unfeeling masks were going to have their way with her. The one behind her slapped her bare ass again and gave her cheeks a rub. She was growing damp between her legs.

"Bring the droid forward," said the leader. "Let her see it."

The pole hand moved the ball forward over her head and then dipped it down. The stormtrooper on the far side took hold of it. Nadra took sight of the mechanical device, a simple sphere made threatening by that lone probing arm.

"Activate the device!" barked the leader. The storm trooper on the far side of the bed flipped another switch and the long cylinder buzzed with life.

"That's a vibrator," Maytag thought to himself. "Kinkier and kinkier."

"Bring it here," called the leader.

The pole hand brought the sphere back behind the leader. He slapped her ass twice. "Spread those legs apart, prisoner! I don't see any shackles on your ankles."

Nadra did as she was ordered. She also lifted her ass in the air a bit, which she was not explicitly ordered to do. The yellow fabric of her thong was tight enough to outline the cleft of her vulva. Maytag bit his lower lip.

"That's better!" called the leader. "You, there! Bring the droid forward and position it for interrogation assistance."

A stormtrooper with a leather shoulder pad took hold of the sphere. He knelt down, his armor clinking against the ground. He brought the sphere forward until the buzzing probe nestled against the prisoner's pudenda. She moaned.

"That's right," the leader said. "Resist all you want, it won't help you."

The man with the shoulder pad pushed the sphere solidly against her ass, so the probe extended along her entire crotch. Nadra moaned again. She was growing wet. The device buzzed against her pussy and she felt sweat forming on the back of her knees where her kneeling forced calf and thigh together.

"Move it back," the leader said. He replaced the touch of the vibrator with his gloved hand. He rubbed her pussy and the white armor plate on the back of his hand felt cold and hard against her inner thigh. "Had enough?" She moaned again.

"Again!" he said, pulling his hand away and delivering a heavy slap to her ass.

Once more the trooper moved the device to her crotch. He pressed forward until the high pitched buzzing was muffled completely and only her moaning and the warble of the sphere itself remained.

"Have you had enough?" the interrogator asked. "Are you ready to cooperate?"

She was wet, and she was ready to cooperate. "Please, no more. I'll do anything."

"Yes! Get me out of these bonds and I'll show you."

"We'll see about that," he replied. "Guard! Take her into the next room. Bring the bag she was carrying in case she needs anything. Unshackle her and bring her back naked."

"That's what I'm talking about," said the pole hand.

The one with the shoulder pad tapped him on the helmet. "You can put that down now."

A storm trooper escorted Nadra into the next room. Maytag straightened and remained silent. He unlocked her bonds. Nadra pulled the dress over her head. She did not wear a bra and the thong was barely there.

"You look damn good, you little Rodian bitch," said the trooper.

"I'll bet," she replied. Nadra stepped out of her underwear. She was shaved clean. She went into her bag and brought out a small squeeze bottle. She squirted a bit in her hand and applied it to her pussy. Then she dispensed more of it and rubbed it around the oval lip of her mask.

"Full service, huh?" the stormtrooper asked.

"Pig," she said, for which he slapped her playfully on the ass. She tossed him the bottle. "You guys may want to use some of this."

The trooper caught it and escorted her back into the room to the joy of his mates and Maytag's relief. He could breathe again.

Nadra got on the bed. Maytag saw her from the back, and was amazed by how much of her was green. The leader must have thought the same thing. He stopped her and spread apart her ass, using his gloved fingers to part her lips until they glistened pink among the green folds. It looked like the opening of a ripe fig. Maytag's dick grew stiff. "That's nice," said the leader. "This may work out for you after all, my dear Rodian whore." He slapped her on the ass and she crawled forward on the bed and turned so that Maytag saw her profile.

The leader started things off, lifting his codpiece and fishing out his floppy prick. He worked it hard with a little lube then plunged inside her bald cunt. She called out in pleasure, and the others started to get themselves ready. Some detached the codpieces entirely, others lifted them as the leader had.

As the leader stroked her from behind, another approached her from the front, his fat cock standing our rigidly in front of him. "You're certainly not short for a storm trooper," Nadra said. "Big boy I'd like to try, but I think you're better off waiting for a turn back there."

Another gent took his place in front of her, his lubed cock straight as an arrow. She helped this one slip his cock past the mask and inside her face. Nadra tasted the bitter-sweet lube, but appreciated how he glided along the latex lips of the mask. It was a tight fit, and he came even before the leader behind her did. His amplified moans caused a round of applause among the other troopers. "Damn, that was good," he squawked.

"Let me try that," another said. He slipped his dick inside and felt the same pleasure - a tight rubber ring and then the softer second set of real lips behind it.

The leader stepped up the pace of his strokes. Nadra thought he would pop any second and he did, pulling out and spraying a scattered load over her back. Someone actually toweled it off, and Nadra felt like saying "awwww".

Instead she grunted in shock. The big boy had taken over all right, and he was stretching her out like a foot in a sock from the very start. She sucked back hard on the guy in her mouth just to ease the feeling. That pushed him over the edge. Inspired by his leader's performance he pulled out and shot a thick load on her mask. Not for the first or last time that night, Nadra told herself how brilliant this idea was. A guy had just come on her face, shooting directly into her eyes, and she didn't feel a thing.

Big boy pounded her from behind, and the feeling of her lips being stretched out ran straight to her clit as a fierce hot tug. Nadra lowered her head into her arms and raised her ass to enjoy it, and the white armor cadre let the man work solo knowing she was getting off. Shortly, Nadra had her first orgasm of the night, in green shoulder shaking fashion.

The party did not stop. Neoprene gloves felt her up all over. They turned her on her back, and she draped a colored leg over a leather shoulder pad as that trooper plunged in to her. One lifted her up and banged her in mid air, and Nadra loved the feel of his armor plating wrapped around her as he did it. They were so careful about the state of their armor that she did not get a single scrape from a sharp edge. One by one she saw the white helmets tilt back as the wearers quaked in pleasure. And she had no idea what they really looked like.

Nadra did not know how long they had been going, but the pace slowed down. She guessed everyone had their turn. The leader sensed it, too. She must need a little break at least.

"Nadra Sookee, you are amazing. This unit salutes you." The storm troopers whooped it up.

"I thought all of your units saluted me," she said. They whooped it up some more.

"Indeed! Now relax and freshen up. I'm going to another room to grab a beer and I think some of the boys might join me. I think we can trust the prisoner to cooperate at this point, right boys?" They whooped louder still.

"Thanks, sir," Nadra said. "I could probably use a little break. Mind if I close this door for a little privacy?"

"Go right ahead."

Maytag jumped out of his hiding space. She was headed his way, and she would find him soon enough. His best chance was to be out in the open.

Nadra came in the room and closed the door. Maytag let her walk away and then he said, "That really was some show."

Nadra turned around in surprise. "Who the hell are you?"

Maytag said the first thing that came to mind. "I'm here to rescue you."

Nadra laughed. At least she hadn't screamed. "Wrong fantasy, sweetie. And is that a light saber in your pocket or are you just happy to see me."

"Like I said, that was some show. And I really am here to help you."

"Do I look like I need help?"

"They're filming you."

"Yeah, I saw that."

"That's going to end up on the Internet. Aren't you worried about that?"

"Who's going to recognize me? My gynecologist? Listen, buddy, I don't know who you are, or how exactly you're getting off on this, but all I have to do is yell, and you're in a world of hurt."

"But you haven't yelled," Maytag said.

"No. That rescue line was kind of funny."

"Look, all I want to do is stop them from taping."

"A little late for that, don't you think?"

"Then I have to get that tape."

"You're kidding, right?"

"No, it's crucial. Someone very important wants me to stop that tape from being put on the Internet."

"Who? Yoda?"

"No. His lawyers." And my boss, he thought without saying it.

"You're serious."

"Yes, I am," Maytag said.

"If you come out of this room and go get that tape, then they'll think I'm in on it, too."

"Probably."

"So it looks like you're rescuing me whether I like it or not."

*

Inside Brendo's room, Stanton leaned in and kissed him. His lips parted slightly, meeting her embrace and inviting her deeper. She slipped her tongue inside, only for his lips to close over it and suck back gently. It was a nice way to start, Stanton thought, and she kept the kiss going for a while.

When their lips did separate, he moaned appreciatively. Stanton ran a finger along his chin. "I can't even feel the makeup," she said. "Is the orange some sort of body paint?"

"Neither," Brendo said. "That's natural coloring."

"Get out!" Stanton exclaimed.

"No," he replied. "A steady, heavy diet of food rich in beta carotene will color your skin orange. Combine that with my normally pale skin and you get this. I drink a lot of carrot juice when I'm working behind that bar."

Stanton "So you mean all of you is this color?"

"Right to the tips of my toes."

Stanton's blue eyes narrowed wickedly. "Not to rush things, but I have got to see this for myself." She moved a hand down to his baggy black trousers.

Brendo grinned. "I don't mind if you rush things."

"I'll bet you don't," Stanton said as she dropped into a crouch. Using two hands, she opened the fly and worked his prick through the seams in his pants and underwear. She took away her hand and left his hose dangling from the fly of his pants so that she would have an unobscured view. Sure enough, it was the same pastel orange as the rest of his visible skin, with tiny blue veins visible just under the surface, ending in a bullet shaped tip colored a more pronounced red. Stanton traced a finger along its length, and it twitched to the right in response. She wanted to make it bigger to see it in its full brightly colored glory. "So, how many women do this just to see if it really is orange?"

Brendo's smile only grew. "Probably ninety per cent of them."

Stanton looked up at him, black hair buns on either side of mischievous blue eyes. "And the other ten per cent?"

"They want to know if I just shave my eyebrows to look Twi'lek, or if I go all the way." Brendo wore the smug expression of one who had gone through this before, and knew he would again.

Stanton read the look. "I guess I should check that next, then, huh?" She reached back into his pants and cupped his sack while extending fingers past his root. The skin was smooth and firm, like rubber. Stanton brought his sack out of his pants to complete the inspection visually. Hairless and orange, his genitals looked more like a sex toy than flesh and blood equipment.

"What do you think?"

"Almost unreal," Stanton said.

"Unearthly, maybe," Brendo replied. "It's all real, though."

"I'll just put it through a little test, then," Stanton said. Without another word, she took his colorful flaccid hose in her mouth and sucked back on it. From that first kiss she felt it swelling on her lips. She took his balls from underneath and gripped him like a pipe for smoking.

Brendo felt his prick growing. He looked down at the sight of the Princess Leia look-alike bobbing on his apricot colored tool. She slid a leg out to shift her position, giving him a view of her knee-high white boots. That was a pleasant surprise. Brendo got another one when she started humming. His cock was rock hard when he reached down to take her head by the round buns of hair and stroke her mouth.

"I love how Earth girls suck dick," he said.

Stanton found that funny, and managed as much of a laugh as was possible with a mouth full of dick. She let it fall from her mouth with a plop and gripped it with her fist. "No jokes, please. Just relax and enjoy it."

"Forgive me, your worship," Brendo quoted. He slid a hand to the base of Stanton's skull and guided her onto his shaft. The humming resumed. "What if I do something with my mouth besides telling jokes?" he asked.

Stanton pulled off his erection again and looked up at him. "Not offended by human females with a little body hair, are you?"

"I'm open minded," Brendo said.

Stanton stood up and gathered her dress up at her legs before pulling it over her head. The underwear and knee-high boots, all in white, and famous hairdo made her look like a go-go dancer from a few decades ago in a galaxy far far away.

Brendo rushed out of his clothes and flopped back on the bed. Stanton wasted no time in joining him. "Mind if I leave the boots on?" she asked.

"I was going to ask you to do that anyway," he answered.

The brunette drank in the sight of his long, lithe frame, made longer by the head tails that draped behind him. His skin was smooth, colorful, his body lean. She kissed him on the chest, and worked her way back down to his stiff organ. Stanton had turned sideways by the time she was kissing the thin layer of skin stretched over his hipbones.

Brendo took hold of her from the boots, lifting her up abruptly. She put her arms out quickly to hold up her weight while he swung her knees back behind his head. On all fours again, Stanton moved her hands back to her bikini bottoms and hooked her thumbs inside the waist band.

"No," Brendo said. "Leave them on."

Stanton moved her hands back to his crotch. If that was how he liked it, that was fine. She was glad she got the dress off, though. It was getting way too hot for wearing big white drapes. She took his carrot-colored, zucchini-sized dick in her hand, and licked from the tip down over her knuckles and onto his smooth, shaved ball sack.

"Oh, that's nice," Brendo said. He pulled aside her white panties to return the favor. As advertised, short and soft black curls greeted his kiss. He pushed his lips against her folds and breathed in the smell of her arousal. Stanton was kissing his left nut when he pushed his tongue inside her, and she repaid him by sucking his ball completely into her mouth. White and orange, hands on each other's ass, the two moaned as one.

Stanton flicked her tongue at the tender fruit in her mouth, then let it slip out of her warm lip lock. She returned to licking his shaft, starting at the base, applying pressure right through the wrinkled sin of his scrotum. There was no pubic hair covering him, and with all her own tresses tied up on the sides of her head Stanton was free to treat him like an oversized lollipop.

Brendo licked her with long, slow motions, starting from inside then swiping the labia deliberately, reversing on the counterstroke. Purposefully, he lubed her where her own natural cream had not yet reached.

The warm grip of hands on Stanton's ass pulled away, leaving her underwear to float back over her round rump. She felt a weight over her thighs, cool at first, then simply solid. Next she felt two hands working at her waist band around her tummy, then fingers working through her pubes. Just as she was pulling her mouth off Brendo's cock to figure out what was happening, she felt the digit slide inside her cunt. It was solid and initially cool, just like the weight draped on her thigh, then it began to flicker.

Now Stanton did look back. She saw Brendo's head tails reaching around her hips like tentacles before disappearing down to her crotch. Brendo worked the second tip inside her pussy. The second one forced the first deeper inside while the new entry lodged itself tightly against the seam of her sex and the roots of her clitoris. The waist band snapped back and held the twitching appendages in place.

"Oh, fuck," Stanton said before diving back onto Brendo's cock with renewed passion.

"And people wonder why a tall guy like me wouldn't rather be a Wookiee," Brendo muttered.

As Stanton tried her best to suck her lollipop down to its creamy center, Brendo pulled aside the back of her panties again. The extra tension held the vibrating head tails in place and gave him a fabulous view of Stanton's fabulous ass. He promptly dove his face inside the crack and worked his tongue over her tiny hole. Freeing one hand, he moved that down to her chest and inside the under wire of her bra. He gripped the supple breast and massaged it gently, running his thumb over her rock hard nipple.

At this point, Stanton felt positively entwined in stimulation. An engorged cock filled her mouth, a hand roamed over her tits, another over her ass. A strong, hot tongue pushed against her anus, and two alien limbs reached around her haunches and slipped inside her pussy where they vibrated with unnatural speed. There is only so much pleasure a human female can sustain, and this one was rapidly reaching her threshold.

Turns out Twi'lek aren't immune to sensations of the flesh, either. Brendo succumbed to Stanton's relentless sucking, and his cock erupted with pulsations along its length and three strong spurts of hot jism into her mouth. Brendo moaned, tilting his head back to breathe with his tongue still wedged between Stanton's full round cheeks.

That triggered Stanton. She collapsed under her own weight, the shoulder blades practically meeting as semen dribbled along her chin and the head tails kept up their assault on her sex. She crawled forward in an attempt to escape, but Brendo used every limb available to hold her in place as she came. Only when the waves of her orgasm leveled off did he stop the whirling of his head tails and pull them away from her sopping pussy.

"Oh," Stanton moaned, "that was just..."

"Out of this world?" Brendo asked.

"Fucking great," she said as she rolled off him.

From her bundled up dress on the floor, the communicator chirped. "Stanton, are you there?"

"Not so fucking great," she exclaimed as she went to retrieve the device.

*

"Stanton, are you there?" Maytag repeated. It was tough whispering into the thing. He had Nadra open up the faucets to let the running water mask the noise. "Come in, Stanton."

"Stanton here," the communicator buzzed.

"Stanton, I need your help," Maytag said.

"That's a surprise."

"This is no time for joking, Stanton," Maytag said. "I found the right party, and I can grab the tape."

"Nice work," Stanton said. "So what do you need my help for?"

"I'm holed up on the top floor surrounded by storm troopers. When I take the tape, I'm going to need a way out."

"You could try the elevator," Stanton said.

"They have it guarded."

"They take this paramilitary thing way too seriously," Stanton replied.

Maytag pressed the communicator to respond, but his voice was not the first that spoke. "Yeah," Nadra agreed, "But the uniforms are hot."

"Who is that?" Stanton asked.

"Never mind," Maytag said. "Just get onto an elevator headed up to the penthouse. And keep the communicator on."

*

"Typical," Stanton said to herself.

"What was that all about?" Brendo asked. "Was that Gerry?"

"It sure was," she sighed, slipping on her dress. "Sorry, sweetness, but I've got to cut this party short."

"You seriously need to rescue this guy?" Brendo picked up some of his own clothes.

"It would seem so," Stanton sighed.

"You need a special key to get up to the penthouse on the elevator."

"Don't worry, I'm resourceful. I get in where I need to."

Brendo pulled plastic card from his pants. "And I get invited to all the best parties."

"Looks like I have my resource," Stanton said before kissing him.

*

"What's your plan, hot shot?" Nadra asked him.

"We rush out, grab the tape, then head for the stairs."

"They'll follow us!"

"I'm counting on that," he said. "You take the tape then head outside, I'll be right behind you."

"I like the adventure part of this," Nadra said. "But this had better work, and you better find me another good party. No offense, but rebels just aren't my thing." The expression on her mask was blank, but the intonation in her voice was clear.

"Right," Maytag said, drawing his blaster. "Let's go."

They left the bathroom and moved to the door connecting the two suites. Nadra reentered the room and headed straight for the camera.

"If you want a replay, we can arrange that," one of the troopers said.

Nadra hit the eject button. "Sorry, boys, looks like I'm outta here." She took the tape and headed for the door.

"Hey!" another one cried. "Where are you going with that!" Just as he moved toward her, Maytag stepped through the door and swung the blaster at arm's length level with the floor.

"Rebels!" a bewildered trooper called.

Before anyone could react Maytag aimed the blaster at the trooper nearest the exit and fired. The paint ball hit his chest with a dramatic burst of red. A couple troopers squawked panicked epithets through their helmets. Quickly, Maytag aimed the gun at a second trooper and plastered his helmet. Then the man in the brown rebel attire hied for the door himself. Confusion reigned. The troopers were already caught off guard, it took them an extra moment to realize that the red was paint and not blood. By that time Maytag and Nadra were through the door to the stairs.

"Get them!" someone called. Bulky as the armor was, it was placed strategically and the men knew how to move in it. They were in the hall in time to see the pair duck through the door under the "Exit" sign.

Inside the stairwell, Maytag pulled the thermal detonators from his belt. "Head up," he said.

"What?"

"Go!" he ordered. "I hope this works." He threw the balls down the stairs, then scurried up to he next landing. When they were out of sight, Maytag grabbed the green Rodian in her evening dress and put a finger to his lips to quiet her.

The timing was perfect. Storm troopers crashed through the door. They stopped and the only sound in the concrete shaft was that of two heavy balls bounding down the stairs beneath them. The lead trooper looked down at the sound, where lights from the balls highlighted the motion along the railings. "They're headed down! You two follow, everyone else get to the elevators."

Carefully, Maytag and Nadra crept the rest of the way up. They exited on the roof of the building. The dope-smoking troopers were nowhere in sight, but kindly they had left the emergency door open. Maytag scanned the roof and found the top of the elevator shaft. "That way!"

They ran over to the structure, and stopped against the wall. Above them a cat walk led to a maintenance door, but there were no stairs on their side. Maytag slipped along the side. There were stairs leading up to the catwalk, but those stairs were playing host to the missing troopers.

"Shit!" Maytag whispered when he returned to Nadra. "There's no way up."

"These walls are too smooth to climb," Nadra said.

Maytag had to agree. "Too smooth to climb directly, anyway." He pulled the grappling hook from his belt. "Watch yourself," he cautioned Nadra. He tossed it once to gauge the length he needed. After it crashed to the rubbery surface of the rooftop, he tried again, catching it on the railing.

He took the video cassette from her and slipped it inside his vest. "Come on," he said.

Nadra shimmied up the line first, guiding herself with feet along the wall. Maytag followed, pulling himself up. It was quite an effort and his arms were numb when he reached the top and went over the rail. "Inside, quickly," he said through shortened breaths.

The inside was full of loud machinery above their heads, and sets of cables spaced out for each elevator. Maytag got on his communicator again. "Stanton!"

"Here, Maytag."

"Where are you?"

"We had to go down to the lobby to get in the elevators heading up to the penthouse. We're on it now, heading up."

"Is there a number or anything? Look on the call box."

"Number 5," she said.

Maytag looked around. He saw a shaft labeled as number five. "Good. When you get there, stay on, the place is going to get loaded with stormtroopers. Then make up a reason to head back down but stay on when they get off. Call me when you're alone again."

Sure enough, when the elevator hit the top floor and the doors opened, Stanton and Brendo saw a bunch of men in white armor.

"Brendo! Here for the party? With a rebel prisoner, too!"

"You didn't tell me this was a storm trooper party?" They made their way out as troopers filed in.

"Does that bother you?" Brendo held the elevator.

"I'd rather not be a prisoner," she said. "maybe we can check something else out first."

"C'mon Brendo," one squawked. "We're in a rush."

"Fine," he said, frustrated. "Let's head back down."

The descent was quick and quiet. The troopers rushed off, relaying orders with some unseen group. The orange and white duo remained on and headed back up. Stanton called Maytag. "Clear," she announced.

"Great, stop the thing and stand clear."

"Stand clear of what?" Stanton asked, just as the trapdoor above swung open.

"Of this," Maytag called without using the radio. From the opening, Maytag lowered Nadra. All Stanton saw were legs, green legs, in a brightly colored dress. From that angle, she could also see that the green legs were attached to a slim little butt wearing a yellow thong. Brendo helped her into the elevator car, and they both saw the mask at the same time.

"Brendo!" Nadra called.

"Have we met?" he asked.

"Not in this guise," she said. "I'm Nadra Sookee. I guess I know who you are, Leia." Nadra gave her the once over. She made a fine looking Leia, at that. Maytag jumped down into the car. Nadra looked at the two and back at him. "Looks like you may have delivered on that party, rebel," she said as she took both Stanton and Brendo arm-in-arm.

Maytag was happier about his escape. "Yahoo!" he called. "Now let's blow this thing and get out of here!" Then under his breath, "I always wanted to say that."

Nadra leaned into Brendo and slid her hand down to his belt. She whispered, "How about instead we get out of here and blow this thing?" Then, aloud to Maytag she said, "Hey, Rebel, looks like you do know how to get a party together. You want to come along?"

"No," he said seriously. "I have a bounty hunter to catch."

*

Brendo leaned back and gasped. He saw two asses in front of him, one lime green, the other pale skinned. An orange head tail whirred away between their cheeks and he pushed a finger into their twats, one bald, one furry. They took turns licking his dick hard again, so they could all go at it one more time.

It was hot under Nadra's mask, but not for the last time she congratulated herself on a great idea. She looked at the blue eyed beauty next to her and tried to capture all of this for remembering later on. Leia had sucked him hard enough to push past the mask, now it was Nadra's turn.

Stanton bucked back against the smooth finger and that wonderful vibrating prosthetic. She saw the green skinned girl work Brendo through the lips of her mask. Not a pretty mask, but this entire scene was kinky. Maybe she misjudged this whole convention idea.

*

Maytag sat at the bar, his rebel outfit dusty, with a splotch of red paint here and there. He upended the beer and drank lustily.

"Tough night, huh, rebel." It was Princess Leia, but not Stanton.

"I just nabbed a dangerous bounty hunter and I think we have him put away for good now."

"My, my. You've done the Republic a great service. Mind if I join you for a drink?"

"By all means," he said. Truth be told he was almost too exhausted to socialize. And the morning was going to be full of paperwork.

"Ooh, is that a grappling hook?" she asked.

"Yes, it is," Maytag said flatly.

"That is so cool," she answered. "Can you take me for a ride somewhere?"

Maytag looked back at her. "Sure thing, your worship." This was turning out to be some night. Even the eyes were the right color.

END