Prjoect Boussh: Hermits and Red Herrings
by Durandir

"And you couldn't have told me this earlier?" Becki frowned.

It was dinnertime at the Hermitage. With the cats congregating in the
basement for their meal, the Wraiths and their host had gathered at a
small table in the kitchen for theirs. Kell had just explained the
reasoning behind the rather awkward-seeming insertion of the three
pilots into Terre Haute.

"We did need to move quickly at the time, you'll remember," he
answered. "And I'm telling you now, aren't I?"

She started to reply, then paused, finally making a face and
answering, "Well, I can't argue with that. So, you three are a
diversion. A red herring. Running interference for the others who are,
hopefully, better concealed than we will be."

"Yup."

"Hiding in plain sight. Somehow, I'm not surprised."

"We capitalize on our enemies' expectations," Tyria said. "Do our best
to look like we're playing into their hands-until, eventually, they
play right into ours."

"Odd, but I guess it can work," Becki shrugged. "The question is, what
do our enemies expect?"

"It would help," Runt spoke up, "to know who our enemies are."

"But we don't. We only know they must not want Wedge elected president-
why else would they kidnap his campaign manager?"

"I think, at least," Kell suggested, "we can safely say that whoever
they are, they'll expect us to be looking for Quiara. And chances are
they underestimate us. So we play to those expectations. We make it
obvious we're looking for her, and we do it in a manner that will
confirm their low opinions of us."

"Hm," Becki grinned, "All right then, I've got an idea. How about if
we--"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was well past midnight in Terre Haute. Except for an occasional
cluster of college students wandering boisterously and drunkenly from
one local watering hole to the next, the streets were quiet. Four
figures, dressed in black from head to toe, crouched in an alley at the
back door of one old brick building. No lights shone from within the
structure, but one of the figures held a glow rod, turning it so that
its light would fall on the door's lock. The faint light also managed
to illuminate a brass plate fixed on the upper portion of the door; on
this plate appeared the words, "Vigo County Republican Central
Committee. Employees Only. Visitors Please Use Front Door."

"We're in," whispered one of the figures, as suddenly, with a click
that sounded unusually loud in the nighttime stillness, the door began
to open. Then the four black-clad figures disappeared inside the
building.

"Should we be looking for anything in particular?" asked Runt-for as
the glow rod's light became more effective within the enclosed space of
the room they were now in, it became apparent that the four lockpickers
were none other than Runt, Kell, Tyria, and Becki.

"No, not really," Kell answered after checking both of the other doors
in the room to make sure that the building, at least this part of it,
was empty. "We just want to make sure they'll know we were here, and
that we were looking for something. The news about the break-in is sure
to get back to whoever's got Quiara, and they'll think we were looking
for leads on her disappearance."

"I'm still not sure I like this," Tyria frowned. "I mean, it's possible
that it was the Republicans who took Quiara, but didn't you say you
thought it was unlikely, Becki?"

"Fairly unlikely," the girl answered. "I don't think the major
political parties would feel threatened enough by a third-party
candidate like Wedge to actually kidnap his campaign manager. But
whoever did take her might expect us to think one of the major parties
was responsible."

"All right, but if the Republicans aren't responsible, how will they
know it was Quiara we were looking for here?"

"They might not," Kell shrugged, "but hopefully our real opponents will
come to that conclusion when the news reaches them."

"So we just mess the place up a little..." Tyria said.

"Enough to make it look like a hasty search. And Runt," Kell
grinned, "try to shed a little while you're at it."

Runt turned puzzled eyes upon his wingman. "We do not see what purpose
that will serve."

"They'll find the hairs later when they investigate the break-in.
Terran police won't know what to make of them, since Thakwaash are
probably not something they've encountered before."

"But our enemy will know, or will guess," Runt bared his teeth in a
delighted smile. "We understand now."

An hour later, with not a desk drawer nor a filing cabinet in the
building left undisturbed, Kell placed the finishing touch-a tiny
sticker depicting an X-wing-on the inside of the door by which they had
entered. The four intruders prepared to leave.

"Hurry," said Kell. "We've still got the Democrats' Headquarters to hit
tonight."

And then, with Tyria leading as silent as a shadow, they disappeared
again into the darkened Terre Haute streets.