Project Boussh: Have You Hugged A Tree Today?
by Majick

    Mike ran through the forest as fast as he could. He'd feared his access
to the Force had been blocked off, perhaps by ysalamiri. Then he'd realised
the truth. He was losing it.
    He'd heard the fall of Red Home, and felt the loss of his comrades,
especially Vickie. His unfortunate cry of 'You bastards' had alerted a squad
of stormies to his presence, and they and their pet AT-ST had assaulted his
position.
    Behind him, the forest crackled as the AT-ST tracked its fire left and
right around his positon. He thanked TAWG for making the Imperials attack at
night, as his clothes hid him well from view.
    The stromtroopers, those seven who'd survived their encounter with him,
had fanned out in a containment search, happily exploiting the advantage the
AT-ST gave them.
    Mike stopped for a breath behind a thick tree. He flicked his comlink
on, and called for help, desperate for assistance. All he got was a garbled
mass of gibberish, as reports flowed in from different sources
simultaneously. He managed to gather that
Cabin Fel had taken out Admonitor Fel, but after that, Thrawn had taken to
blasting the forest with the Admonitor's turbolasers. Mike giggled insanely
as he thought of the strongly worded letter of complaint the USA would be
sending to Thrawn.
    From the cries coming from the comlink, Mike gathered that a number of
Ewoks had been caught in the blasts. While he'd never liked the furry little
beasts, he'd acknowledged their worth once he'd heard of their competence in
going after the AT-ST's. He could use some of that competence right now.
    He ran again, as he heard the AT-ST crashing through the undergrowth.
The stormies he couldn't hear. They were far, far, too competent for that.
    As he ran, he tried to reach out to the Force, to calm himself, refresh
himself, anything. He'd settle for not feeling like a sweaty bantha.
    No luck.
    His feeble control over the Force had entered another one of it's ebb
states. He thought fondly of the sparring match with Vickie, and how strong
he'd felt for nearly an hour.
    "Why couldn't you buggers attack earlier, eh? I'd have given you a fight
then."
    The AT-ST's lasers superheated a tree behind Mike, and it exploded into
fragment's. He cursed as red hot splinters peppered him, and felt his
tenuous grip on the situation slip further away. He roared in anger, and
staggered against a tree. Looking over his shoulder, he saw one of the
spindly legs of the AT-ST thump into the undergrowth, and grey clad shapes
slip silently through the midnight air. He drew his lightsabre, and crouched
low.

    Aboard the AT-ST, Lieutenant Yerp issued commands to the ground troops
while Sergeant Yrrauq steered the chicken walker skillfully through the
forest. The single Rebel they were tracking had proved adept at avoiding
their attack so far, but no-one could be lucky for ever.
    "Did you ever drive the AT-AT, Sergeant?" Yerp asked.
    "Only occasionally, sir," the older man replied. "Wonderfully powerful,
of course, but I prefer the -ST for this kind of combat."
    "Quite right too, Sergeant. I must say, having a choice of three weapos
is quite a treat. Most walkers merely possess a trio of blasters... These,
though... A blaster, a grenade launcher, and a rotating barrel minigun slug
thrower. So much variety... Thank heavens we have so many targets."
    "I did notice you being very... methodical... in your use of the slug
thrower on that squirrel, sir."
    "Can't be too careful, Sergeant. A thousand rounds might even not have
been enough. They are related to the Ewoks, after all."
    "Very true, sir. It was only nine inches long though, sir."
    "Size isn't everything, sergeant. I've always said it's the little
things in life that count."

    Mike grimaced as the stormie walked within five metres of his position.
He'd used the lightsabre to core a hidey hole in the trunk of the tree, then
pulled the bark across the gap. Alowing for gaps to see and breathe had been
a last minute modification, but a vital one, all things considered.
    The sound of the AT-ST stomping across the landscape stilled him, and
the blood ran cold in his veins as he watched the walker pause in front of
him. He waited as the stormies regrouped, then slipped out of his hidey hole
as all attention focussed on a noise ahead of them.
    Mike brought the lightsabre around in a diagonal arc, cutting up and
through the trunk of the tree.
    "Timber!!!" he yelled, fulfilling a lifelong dream.
    The tree toppled forward, crashing into the walker, and squashing the
cabin messily into the hip joints, before the legs buckled as the hydraulics
failed.
    The grenade magazine went off as the walker crumpled under the weight of
the tree. Another pair of stormies were caught in the blast. Mike looked out
at the position of the remaining stormies, as they looked around in
bewilderment. Shorn of their leadership, they were easy pickings for Mike to
blast with the rifle he'd stolen early in the fight.
    Mike slumped wearily against the stump of the tree. He flicked on his
comlink, and was gratified to hear silence on the comlink. He spoke into the
device.
    "Terra Four calling all units. I've just slagged a walker and it's
attendants. Situation update please?"
    The comm crackled, before Tycho's voice hissed over it.
    "Four, this is Rogue Two. The news isn't good..."