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“I imagine it would be unusual to a Sith,” Luke agreed. “Glad you’re appreciating it. Vestara? Let’s go.”

“And that’s the news. Until tomorrow, this is Perre Needmo. Good night.”

The cam droids closed in on Needmo’s long face and wise, calm eyes encircled by wrinkles.

“And cut,” said the director, Jorm Alvic. A human in his early middle years, Jorm had thick black hair turning to gray at the temples in a rather dashing and dramatic manner. It was the only thing dramatic and dashing about him physically. He was slightly shorter than average, with a belly that lapped over his belt and a face that, while pleasant, wasn’t really remarkable in any way save for an easy smile. He had been friends with Needmo for many years and had directed nearly every episode of The Perre Needmo Newshour since its inception. “Great job as usual, Perre.”

“Thanks, Jorm. But I’d say that goes for everyone. Well done tonight. The interviews in particular went very smoothly,” Needmo said. He placed the datapads neatly on his desk, then descended from his anchor’s chair. He peered up to the control booth. “I wonder if perhaps we’d all be willing to stay a little later tonight? I have an idea I’d like to propose.”

“What’s that, Perre?” asked Sima Shadar, the producer, also in the control booth. The tech crew paused in their nightly shutdown routine, exchanging glances and shrugs. A mouse droid peeped in irritation as its normal path was blocked by human feet, then zipped off to clean another area of the set.

“I’ve been thinking about this for a while. I’d like to start including a new recurring segment.”

“Well, our staff meeting is day after tomorrow; we can put that on the top of the agenda,” began Sima, but Needmo was shaking his huge head.

“No, I really would like to begin this as soon as possible.”

Jorm and Sima looked at each other and shrugged. “You got it, Perre,” Sima said. The Chevin nodded, satisfied. He hadn’t really expected any protest. Sima pressed a button, and her voice carried throughout the studio and back rooms.

“Attention staff. Perre has requested our presence for a brief meeting before you all head on home. Please come to the main set.”

There was a silence, then “Sure,” “Of course, boss.” The writers, directors, and editors all filed onto the stage. Most had cafs or snacks in hand; it was a fairly relaxed show. Everyone was ready to go home of course, but everyone also liked their jobs, and they all knew Needmo didn’t usually pull this sort of thing unless he felt it was really important. Some grabbed seats, some just plopped down on the floor.

“We’ve had a few guests commenting on the situation on Tatooine, Karfeddion, and Thalassia, along with some very lively debates on the issue and on the Freedom Flight,” Needmo began. He trundled to the center of the set and looked about at his team. “But all my instincts are telling me that this is going to be a big story. I’d like to make sure we address it. Keep tabs on it, keep people aware of it. It’s an important issue, and one that doesn’t really have any gray areas.” While The Perre Needmo Newshour worked diligently to report the news without bias, one of the reasons Perre had left Vinsoth to start his own show was to broadcast good news. Or, if that wasn’t possible on a particular evening, to at least get something out there people could support.

“Good idea,” Sima said, tapping on a datapad. “We can get Darric Tevul to report regularly on—”

Needmo waved his hands. “No, no, not just commentary. I think we should put someone on the scene. Visit some of these worlds, conduct interviews with the governments and the insurgents both.”

Eyes widened. Some beings whistled. Jorm scratched his head, but nodded.

“It’s a good idea,” he said. “Very good idea. Boost our ratings, no doubt about it. But it’s not exactly the sort of thing we’re known for.”

“We all work very hard to disassociate ourselves from the likes of Javis Tyrr and his type of sleemo journalism,” Needmo said, “and to do that we’ve chosen a more staid format. I’m not suggesting we