Project Boussh: High Ground
by "Prophet" Kristy

"Oh, awesome, they used Mike for the Horn card!"

Kristy was sitting in front of Knave, her computer, catching up on the
posts on AFW for the past two days.  Wedge stood behind her, trying to
follow.  Behind them, Tycho lounged on Kristy's bed, blue eyes glued to
the tiny TV, which was tuned to Nash Bridges.

Wedge squinted at the 2-D screen.  "That...doesn't really look like
Corran."

"I'm not surprised," Kristy shot back up at him.  "That's actually Mike
Stackpole, the guy who's gotten most of the intelligence on the Rogues and
written most of the stuff about you.  Corran's sort of considered 'his'
character--he's written a lot about him."  She leaned over to fish through
the stack of photographs gathering dust on top of her flatbed
scanner.  Pulling one out that showed herself in a Star Wars Celebration
T-shirt standing next to the same man--with a beard this time--behind a
table piled with paperback books, she handed it up to Wedge.  "Mike's a
super-nice guy.  I'm glad they used his picture."

Wedge made a low noise of agreement, looking over the photo.  By now he
was beyond the stage of being surprised by anything this world could throw
at him.  After the giant poster of Old Republic-era Jedi Master Qui-Gon
Jinn on the back of Kristy's door and the multiple figures of *himself* on
the shelf above her computer, things couldn't get much wierder.

"Hey, when are they going to make a figure of me?" Tycho asked from across
the small dorm room.

Kristy laughed.  "Yeah, I wish!"  **As if it could get any better after
having the two of you *here*,** she thought, hitting a few keys to move to
the next post--a coded report on Project Boussh.

A few paragraphs later, she cursed.  Wedge leaned in closer to read over
her shoulder, while Tycho sat bolt upright, ready for action.  "What?"

Before Wedge could catch up with what was on the screen, Kristy had
half-stood in her chair to take down the 1998 World Book Encyclopedia from
next to her printer.  She threw it into the appropriate drive in Knave,
muttering to herself.  "What the hell was Runt thinking?  Becki's a
flutist, not a damn commando.  You don't send Terrans after squads of
stormies!"

"WHAT?!" Tycho demanded, coming off the bed to crowd Kristy and Wedge.

Kristy spoke over the roar of the CD-ROM drive starting up.  "It's
Becki--she's been kidnapped."

Wedge indulged in a curse of his own.  "The Imps?"

"You got it.  A lot of our teams have been found by 
stromtroopers.  According to the informant with the Wraiths, the Empire's
working with some guy named Eugor Atner from Mendellia.  I've never heard
of it, so I'll look it up...." she trailed off as she watched the
encyclopedia go through its startup screens.  For the next few minutes she
alt-tab'ed wildly between encyclopedia and Netscape, trying to find any
information on a small dictatorship off the coast of Ecuador.

Unfortunately, Mendellia was either one of those potholes in the
Information Superhighway--or the Empire had covered their tracks better
than Kristy's web-surfing skills.  Tycho shook his head as Kristy stared
at her last screen of "no matches found," muttering imprecations to
herself.  "Who designed this Internet thing?" he asked incredulously.

Kristy glanced up at the blond Alderaanian.  "I don't know, but it must
have been a man," she replied grumpily.

"Excuse me?" Wedge said.

"Oh, no offense--it's just something I say."

"Uh...Right."

Suddenyl there was an insistent pounding on the door which made all three
of them jump.  "Open up in there!"  demanded a voice from outside, clearly
disregarding the rules of the 24-hour quiet floor.  Kristy looked up with
a start.

"Somehow I don't think that's my RA."

Tycho moved to the door and peered through the spyhole.  "You'd be
right."  He pulled out his blaster.  "Stormies, Wedge.  Six that I can
see."

"Sithspit!"  Wedge's blaster was in his hand faster than Kristy would have
imagined possible.  He moved to the window, peering out over the complex's
loading dock and the tiny staff parking lot.  "You had to live on the
sixth floor, didn't you?"