Star Wars is the property of George Lucas and LFL. No profits were made and no disrespect is intended with this fic.

Challenge Fourteen
There's Something To be Said About Scientific Progress...
by Nic

Colin's laughter echoed around the empty pilot's lounge. He was currently seated at a low table, hands sticky with glue, face covered in sparkles and a touch of magic marker and hair fluffed with brightly coloured tissue paper. The two-year-old's clothing was also messy, his blue coveralls adorned with more tissue paper and more sparkles. His white short-sleeved tunic, astonishingly and mercifully, was still spotless. He lightly pounded his black kiddie-booted feet against the floor and clapped his hands, his bright blue eyes fixed on his uncle Hobbie.

Hobbie, his usually mournful features scrunched up in concentration, sat on the other side of the table. He applied the final black bead to the Styrofoam ball held in his hand and then placed it next to one that was slightly smaller.

"Well Colin, that's the last one," he said with a glance at the chaos and disorder that was their workspace. The remains of the tissue paper were all over the floor; sparkle dust glittered in more places than Hobbie wished to count. The tiny black beads were the only things that were still neatly in their bag. On top of this mess were three Styrofoam balls, a hand-full sized one and one slightly smaller than it both with two black beads placed vertically upon the invisible seam. A third sat next to them, slightly smaller than the medium sized one, this one adorned with a black tissue-paper hat and eyes, orange tissue paper nose and red tissue paper mouth. Scattered around them were more Styrofoam balls, only these were assembled into snowmen of all sorts.

Hobbie sat back and admired the vision of the table and then frowned as he saw Colin. "How in the name of the Force did you get so dirty, Colin?" Colin giggled and pointed at Hobbie. "Uncy Hobbie messy!"

"I?Oh?" Hobbie sighed as he looked down at his day uniform. Apparently, Hobbie was just as unable to keep his day uniform clean as Colin was. "I guess this means we go back to our quarters to clean up?"

"Sounds like an idea," Wes' voice filtered over the hydraulics of the lounge door. Wes gave them a cursory glance before smiling. "Nice snowmen," he deadpanned before walking to the bar-area. Disappearing behind the counter, Hobbie could hear the cooler door open and shut as the light thud of food and the small clink of a plate hit the counter-top. Scooping Colin up off the floor, Hobbie walked over to the bar and sat on a stool.

"What dada makin'" Colin frowned as he watched Wes pull out two slices of bread and place them on the plate.

"Tuna sandwich." He said distractedly, spreading the leftover tuna and mayo mixture from Hobbie's lunch onto the bread.

"Tuna Sandwich." Hobbie repeated. "You hate Tuna."

"I know."

"Then why?"

"Scientific progress."

"Scientific progress." Hobbie blinked and then looked down at Colin. Colin looked up at Hobbie and shrugged. "I see. Well then. I guess I should leave you to it then."

"Perhaps." Wes said as he put away the stuff he pulled out. "If you'll both excuse me?" He picked up the plate with the sandwich and sidled around the bar. He walked to the door and, with the swish of hydraulics, was gone.

"Colin, I think we better clean up and drop you off with Uncle Wedge. You can help him with his reports while I go make sure your dad doesn't blow something up."

Continued in Part Two