Project Boussh: Do Not Enter
by Majick

    As Sci updated the rest of the Boussh team on the loose ends that had
accumulated, Mike was checking the patients that had been squeezed aboard
the shuttle. A small amount of tuition from Elassar had left Mike de facto
medic for the shuttle, and just to be sure, he did all the treatments
strictly buy the book. The two men twitched in their anaesthetic induced
stupor, then lay still.
    That done, he wondered about the future. The possibility of yet another
battle filled day was there, and Mike looked ruefully at the battered bodies
of people he respected.
    Face Loran, captured and apparently turned into one of Atner's Horsemen
of the Apocalypse.
    Josh Nolan, battered Terran, crispy fry Antipodean, blasted by a walker,
half man, half chip shop supper.
    "You're both heroes, guys. Now it's time for you to relax, heal, and let
us do some of the work."
    He looked around the small cabin, and then up into the cockpit, where
Sci and Sharon were continuing the update.
    "I guess, a project this big, there were always going to be some things
left hanging. Clever of Sci to use this downtime we have to bring everyone
up to speed. Just what Wedge would have done. I hope Vickie is alright..."
    He tried to reach out to his friend through the Force, but it was no
good. His Force abilities were more to do with altering peoples minds,
rather than speaking to them. He couldn't trace Vickie's presence.
    Nothing.
    He looked around the cabin, and noted a small door set into the wall. He
walked up to it, and looked at the small, read-only data pad set into the
wall next to it.
    'Emergency wardrobe.'
    "Sweet. Running around the New Hampshire forests in little more than a
flightsuit is chilly work."
    He opened the wardrobe, and rifled through the contents. With a gasp, he
pulled out a jumble of material, and called out to Sci.
    "Lead? This wardrobe? Mind if I take some of the stuff out of it? It's a
little chilly in here."
    "Go ahead. See anything you like?"
    "Uh, yeah, I think so..."

    Mike tucked himself into one of the small refresher units at the rear of
the shuttle. He pealed off the flightsuit, and stood shivering as he admired
his new outfit. Reaching into the bag he'd bought with him, he pulled out
the items he'd appropriated from various sources following his battle with
Vickie. Then he sat cross legged on the floor of the unit, and lowered
himself into a trance.

    Josh awakened with a curse, acutely aware of the pressure from the bacta
patches all over his body. He turned over, gently, and tried to sleep, when
he became aware that there were no patches just -there-. With a sigh, and
further muffled curses, he eased to his feet, and headed for one of the
refreshers.
    Attached to the door, he found a small piece of paper.
    "'Taken'," he read. "'Do Not Enter. For medicines, ask Sharon.' Christ,
the bloody Pom lives in the toilet."
    With many more curses on each step, Josh made his way to the second
refresher.

    Sharon leant out of the cockpit, and cast a glance around the cabin
beyond. Face was slumbering peacefully, the bacta patch still firmly
attached to his shoulder. She looked at the implant behind his ear,
throbbing a dull red.
    "I wish Elassar or Ooryl could take a look at you," she murmured. "It
doesn't look like a homing beacon, but I'd like to be sure."
    She stood, and looked around as Josh inched his way out of the
refresher, and towards his bench.
    "Are you okay?" she asked, as he winced.
    "Lovely," he replied. "Is it time for my la-la juice yet?"
    She blinked, then caught on. Checking the notes Nick had compiled on his
friend's condition, she found the last entry for the anaesthetic. Nodding,
she filled a syringe, and injected Josh, who sighed, and slumped happily
onto the bench.
    "Oh," he said, dreamily. "Mike's locked himself in he toilet again."
    "Again?" Sharon said.
    "Oh yeah, you weren't around last time, were you? When he built his
lightsabre, he was locked in the dunny for ten hours or so. Nick wasn't
happy, I can tell you."
    Sharon smiled at the image Josh conjured.
    "Why's he in there now?"
    "Who knows? The guy's stranger than a stamping centipede."
    "That's a new one."
    "Us Aussies are famous for making up nonsense sayings to confuse
everyone else. If I weren't drugged up to the eyeballs,    though, I'd
pretend it was a famous saying from where I come from."
    "So," said Sharon, slowly. "If I want you to tell the truth, I have to
drug you."
    "Yeah, I reckon that's about right," Josh said, with a dreamy smile on
his face.

    In the refresher, Mike's hands were working busily. He'd pulled his
lightsabre apart, conscious that the geiger counter hadn't been his in the
first place. Then he took the component circuitry, the jewels, and the power
cell, and laid them on the floor. Shivering, he laid out a near matching set
of equipment and gems beside them.
Reaching into the bag again, he withdrew two lengths of metal piping he'd
found near the Red Home crash site. He turned them over in his hands,
getting a feel for them. As he'd expected, one was slighty smaller than the
other, and fit snugly inside.
    "Oh... I need to cut that in half..." he murmured.
    With a sigh, he began reconstructing his geiger counter based
lightsabre.

    In the cockpit, Sci looked out the window as they crossed into Missouri.
The damage the shuttle had taken during the battle limited its speed, and
flight time to Mendellia would likely be measured in hours, rather than the
minutes Sci would have preferred.
    He thought of the caverns underneath the island, and the resistance
group. He hoped everyone there was okay, especially those members of the
Boussh team who were underneath his command.
    He rocked forward and back in his seat, unconsciously trying to coax
more speed from his ship.

    This time, Mike made sure all cutting was done before he broke up his
lightsabre. A comment Vickie had made echoed through his mind as he began to
work. Though he'd glibly replied at the time, the idea had merit, especially
considering all the fighting likely to take place one they reached
Mendellia.
    Mike wondered exactly what was going to happen when they got there.

    Finally, Sci yielded control of the shuttle to Sharon, and headed aft
for some sleep. First, he headed to the refresher, where he saw the sign on
the door.
    Sighing, he moved off to the second refresher. When he was done there,
he curled up in a chair, and drifted off.

    Sharon noted the low blip that signalled another change in state. This
one, she read, was Texas. She craned around, and looked back into the cabin.
Sci and Face slept on, Josh was shuffling towards the refresher again, and
Mike's sign was still evident.
    "Sleeping or in the bathroom," she said wryly. "Almost a metaphor for
men in general. Thank heavens there's no beer around."

    Mike roused himself from his semi-trance state, and inspected his work.
He smiled when all worked as it was supposed to. Climbing creakingly to his
feet, he looked at the sweaty flightsuit, then threw it into the bin.
Washing briskly, he donned his new outfit, and opened the door.
    Strolling between the two patients, he heard Sharon and Sci talking in
the cockpit. He walked up the steps, and called to them, softly so as not to
awaken the two wounded men.
    They turned into their seats, and Mike stepped into the cockpit. A long
black trenchcoat covered him to below his knees. Biker boots leant his steps
a satisfying clump. Black shades hid his eyes from view. The Terminator met
Neo met Angel. He felt good.
    Sci looked at him, appraising the new look. He caught sight of the
lightsabre.
    "A new design?" he asked. Mike unclipped the weapon from his belt, and
nodded. He pressed the switch, and the purple-yellow blade illuminated the
cockpit. He thumbed the switch again, snapping his wrist over as he did so.
The handle spun over in his hand, and extended, lengthening at both ends.
    Mike spun his wrist over again, hitting the button. First one blade,
then at a second button press, a second blade, sprung from the ends of the
weapon.
    Sci grinned, and reached out to take the weapon. Mike passed it over,
and Sci hefted the near nine foot long weapon carefully. He looked at it,
smiling slightly, then up at Mike.
    "Nice," he said.
    "Yeah," Mike replied. "Something Vickie said when we were fighting.
Every little helps. Plus, I wanted something... special. Something to be
remembered by."
    "You sound like you're about to die," Sharon said, as she stared at the
lightsabre. Mike took it back, and shut it down.
    "I didn't mean to sound like that. Saying that, though, if anything does
happen to me out there... Give the lightsabre to Vickie. I'm sure she can
use it."
    Sci looked at his teammate, unable to read his expression beyond the
dark glasses. Eventually, he nodded.