Project Boussh: Fish In A Barrel
by Nick Coghlan

The battledroids that made up the bulk of the Imperial forces in New
Hampshire were providing an admirable demonstration of the adage: "You
can get it cheap. You can get it quick. Or you can get quality. Choose
two." Compared to real stormtroopers, the droids clearly weren't the
last.

Alison's Winnebago careened through the New Hampshire woods, its armour
and shields easily soaking up the small arms fire delivered by the
Imperial troops. While the protection was light by the standards of
starfighter defenses, it was effective enough for Nick to decide use the
vehicle as an impromptu tank. The biggest problem was that the only way
he'd been able to mount the E-Web heavy repeating blaster he was using
as a main gun was to point it out the back window. The communication
between Nick, who was driving, and Wes, who was manning the E-web, was
confusing, to say the least.

"More left, quick!"
The Winnebago slewed left.
"My left, dammit!"
The Winnebago swerved back to the right.
"Sithspit, you missed it. Back left!"
This time the 'Bago went right.
"No, your left! Dammit, why didn't we figure this out before we
started?!"

Myn, meanwhile, was calmly selecting and destroying targets, taking full
advantage of the sniper port positioned above the 'Bago's cockpit. The
wild manoeuverings of the vehicle carrying him meant he wasn't quite
living up to the dictum of "one shot, one kill", but he was close enough
that he wasn't annoyed with himself. The two figures beneath him finally
seemed to reach a workable accomodation, and Wes raked the E-web's
deadly fire across the still numerous ranks of droid troopers. Before
too long, as Nick became more comfortable with the situation, the
cockpit-controlled ion cannon opened up, spraying blue lightning across
the automatons Myn was shooting at. The spare parts tally began to mount
up, and the Winnebago began to make significant headway towards the
dropships it was looking for.

Finally, the craft came into view, still on the ground. Still confident
of the ability of the Imperial troops to handle the situation. One of
the craft even had its hatch on the ground.

"Bloody hell. This lot must be commanded by the same idiot who delayed
the attack on the 'Home!" Nick never suspected that said commander was
little more than a random collection of molecules on the New Hampshire
breeze, vapourised by one of the very starfighters his own tactical
error had allowed to escape. Sometimes reality has a great sense of the
poetic.

Still weaving through the trees, Nick spotted something interesting near
that overly casual drop ship. The nearby contingent of droid troopers,
obviously intended as a guard for the vulnerable craft had turned _away_
from the oncoming vehicle. Even as Nick watched, they raised their
blaster rifles and began firing. Return fire from the woods was
beginning to take heavy toll of their numbers, when Nick returned his
briefly distracted attention to his own task. Trusting Myn & Wes to deal
with the troops that were still harassing them, he increased the
elevation on the ion cannon, dropping its sights onto the nearest
dropship, but deliberately avoiding the one with the open hatch. Out of
the corner of his eye, he spotted flickers of brown against the snow.

He pressed the trigger.

Blue fire spat from the weapon, lancing into the side of the immobile
shuttle.

Nothing much happened.

Controlling the 'Bago with one hand, and the ion cannon with the other,
Nick poured fire into the transport, while still managing to maintain a
weaving, dodging pattern, albeit not quite as vicious as his earlier
manoeuvres. The results of his efforts became clear as the shuttle's
cockpit suddenly went dark, and sparks flew out of a panel near the
engines. Satisfied that particular vessel wasn't going anywhere, Nick
moved on to the next target. Without any transports, these troops could
never become a factor in the impending Mendellian brawl.

In short order, the remaining transports fell victim to the ion cannon's
fire. The crew of the last actually managed to get their ship a short
distance into the air, before vicious tongues of blue light brought it
crashing to the ground. Myn and Wes, meanwhile, busied themselves with
dealing with the troopers attempting to flank the marauding Winnebago.
Before long they found themselves having to look harder and harder for
targets. Short, furry figures appearing from between the disabled
transports provided an explanation.

Those same figures also explained the still open hatchway of the first
transport.

Circling around the erstwhile battlefield, Nick briefly brought the
'Bago to a halt. A smirking Yarg stepped out from the shadow of the
captured transport to greet him. Saluting the Ewok with a brief nod of
his head, Nick reached back for the small crate Wes was holding out to
him. The Rogue had a slightly concerned expression on his face.
"Are you sure this is a good idea?"
Nick grinned. "Trust me."
Taking the crate, Nick turned and passed it out the window to the Ewok
leader.
"Be careful with these."

Yarg smirked even more as he yubbed the inevitable reply.

As the Ewok ducked away, Nick quickly got the Winnebago back up to
speed, heading back into the woods. As he did so, he pondered those two
little words. They weren't nearly so much fun when someone else said
them.