Project Boussh: Sisters Are Going It For Themselves by Majick "Suggestions?" Mike asked. "We move out of here. Tie up Bror's wound, try and staunch the flow. Maybe we can get some medical supplies in a medical shop?" "Has to be worth a try," Mike allowed. "OK, let's get some strips of cloth for you to work with then, Elassar." Ten minutes later, Elassar had fixed a rudimentary splint to Bror's leg, and cut off most of the bleeding. Elassar and Mike lifted him onto their shoulders, and began to drag the half conscious man towards the street, in Shalla's wake. The plan was rudely interrupted by the arrival of a number of squad cars, each of which disgorged a number of policemen, who took up positions covering the alley. The NRI team quickly took cover behind a dumpster. Elassar spoke first. "It hasn't been our week, has it?" "Suggestions?" Mike asked again, for the second time in a quarter of an hour. "Give yourself up," called the negotiator over his megaphone. "Not what he says," Shalla offered. "How many are there?" Mike asked Elassar stuck his head around the side of the dumpster, and pulled it back sharply when one of the officers drew a bead on him. "More than us, maybe a dozen. I could go out there and try and charm them. What chance would they have against the awesome charisma of Elassar Targon?" Shalla silenced him with a look. "I think I should go, but I'm not going full out on them. I think a side attack would be best, drop as many as possible before they realise I'm there." "That's the best we have?" "Well, I'd offer to fly out in my X-Wing, but I left it in the pocket of my other pair of pants," Bror hissed, through gritted teeth. "I know what Shalla is capable of, Mike, and I'd rather bet on her than against her." Mike sighed. "Where are your X-Wings, anyway? Couldn't we get your astromechs to fly them in and grab us?" "They're out in the Chesapeake Bay. Koyi Komad had to bring a transport out to pick us up when Bror's fighter died on him, and the ship carried us here while she worked on fixing it. The ship is underwater, and a small personnel transport bought us into Washington." "We were too gung ho in our approach, here. I should have known all this earlier. Still, we learn from our mistakes. You want to go after them, I can't stop you. Just take care of yourself, and take this." He handed her a cylindrical object, like a motorbike throttle. "What is it?" she asked "It's Corran's spare lightsabre. You might be able to use it," Mike said. "He gave it me when we met in Newcastle on Saturday." "I don't know how much use it will be," Shalla said, "but thanks." She clipped the lightsabre to her belt, pulled her balaclava over her head and scuttled away from the dumpster, to a ladder leading up the next building over. Mike watched her disappear into the shadows, and knew the cops, trained observers though they were, wouldn't notice the patch of black moving through the dark alley. Shalla glided gracefully up the ladder, grateful yet again that her ancestral legacy was physical as well as mental excellence. She'd lost count of the times her skills had saved her life when someone like Kirney or Dia would have been killed. 'Of course,' she thought. 'If I didn't have these skills, I wouldn't have been in those situations to begin with.' She smiled wryly, and turned her mind to the mission. Reaching the rooftop, she looked down at the objective. As Elassar had said, there were more than a dozen policemen guarding the alley entrance, and she figured at least half would need to be incapacitated before they would break ranks and panic. "Not that panic is necessarily a good thing," she murmured. She knew well that a panicky man could fire his gun and kill one of her friends. That wasn't a result she wanted. "Although, Elassar..." she mused briefly. She smiled, and began to work on a plan to take them all out. In the Mendellian embassy, the Ambassador, Rawa T'Cab, stretched, and looked at her clock. Gone seven o'clock, she realised. Time to rise for the day, head downstairs and have Poe fix her a light breakfast. She rose, and moved towards her office door, only for Poe to open it before her. She looked at the droid questioningly. "Mistress," it began. "There are reports coming over the police wire service of a disruption involving four people matching the descriptions of those who were observed watching your meeting with the Presidents elect. You did insist that, should any further information be received..." "Yes, quite," T'Cab said. "Very well. Inform my chauffeur to have the Suburban prepared for immediate departure, and prepare for me salmon en croute for my return." "Yes, mistress." Shalla hopped off the roof of the four storey building, and landed on the flagpole justting out three floors down. Springing from the flexible metal pole, she catapulted herself towards the police blockade. Turning a somersault in mid air, she grabbed the head of one officer, slamming him into the car he stood next too. He dropped, unconscious to the ground, as she landed lightly on the roof of the car, and stabbed her foot into the head of the downed officers partner. He, too, dropped silently, and the rearward pair of policemen were down. Shalla jumped off the car, and landed beside a third officer. A hook kick dropped him to the ground, and a single punch knocked him out cold. His parter turned and spotted her, but he only managed a "!" before he too was out of comission. Shalla paused to catch her breath. Four of the fifteen police men down, and she could probably leave the negotiator, if it came down to it. She grinned, and reflected that a week's inactivity had done little to dull her combat skills. 'Although these policemen are hardly up to combat officer standards... Maybe I could track down Boba Fett before we leave here...' she thought. Behind the dumpster, Mike and Elassar fidgeted restlessly, unhappy at being inactive while Shalla took care of the police. Between them, Bror moaned slightly. Elassar had given him a shot of the anasthetic he always carried on his person, and the Thyferran was dozing fitfully. Mike looked at the wounded man. "I think one of us should try and get the medkit." "No," Elassar said. "There'll still be cops up there, even if they haven't seen us yet, they'll know to keep an eye out for us." "You're right, I guess." "Besides, if I, master of the universe, can't do it, neither can you." "Sithspit, you're obnoxious. Fancy injecting yourself with some of that anasthetic?" Shalla dusted her hands off, and regarded the cops slumped together in front of where she crouched. Looking up, she saw only seven more left, before she could call out her friends. She moved on, around the rear of the another car, and used the lightsabre to hit the officer there over the head. He dropped, and his gun clattered loudly to the ground. Shalla cursed, as the sound carried over the negotiators amplified voice, causing the half dozen men left to turn, and face the petite, black clad woman who had taken out more than half their forces. 'Sithspawn,' she thought, and thumbed the lightsabre's power button. A shining silver blade lit the dusk that was rapidly falling over Washington, and she leapt forward, taking advantage of the momentary surprise she held. "What's that?" Elassar asked, hearing the snap-hiss. "Lightsabre," Mike explained. "Doesn't Tyria have one?" "I don't know. She doesn't really show off her Jedi heritage that much. If she does, I've never seen it." "Well, that's what it is. Hope Shalla's doing okay." She stabbed first, spearing one of the officers through the shoulder. Trained though he was, he still screamed in pain, before passing out. That, as much as the weapon she wielded, injected fear into his fellow officers. She parried the guns of the next two, slicing their barrels clean off, before pirrouetting and kicking them under the jaw. Both dropped. Her pirrouette carried her full circle, leaving her facing down the barerels of three loaded revolvers. She sighed, and turned off the lightsabre, laying it on the ground, before raising her hands. The scream had brought Mike and Elassar to their feet. Heedless of personal danger, they poke their heads cautiously over the dumpster, to see Shalla surrounded by cops, one of whom seemed very intent on frisking her. The two turned and looked at one another, similar expressions on their faces. Mike fired the pistol he'd taken into the air, then snatched Bror's blaster from his holster. The gunshot snapped the cops around, again, and Shalla watched as her friends each fired twice. the alleyway served as an excellent conduit for their fire, and three of the cops dropped, stunned, in the first volley. Elassar fired once more, to bring down the last remaining policeman, and a hush descended over the street. Shalla hurried to her friends, and hugged them, before returning to the street. She picked up the lightsabre, and emptied the cops guns of bullets, before throwing the cartridges into the sewer. She turned to see Mike and Elassar hauling Bror along the alleyway. The four Bousshers headed out along the road towards the nearest rail station. Chesapeake Bay seemed their only option now. A large black car turned into the street they were struggling along. It took a couple of seconds to click with Shalla what was wrong with it. "They must have blocked off this street when he cops came. That car shouldn't be here." Mike sighed. "I know, just know, that whoever is in that car doesn't have our best interests at heart." The quartet stopped, and Mike and Elassar propped Bror against a wall. All except Bror pulled their weapons, and trained them on the car as it pulled up along side them. The farside rear door opened, and the street lighting glinted off the metal of the droid that disembarked. It turned to face the Bousshers, and Elassar and Shalla gasped as they recognised it as an Imperial assassin droid. It raised it's arms, pointing heavy repeater blasters at the New Republic team. The nearside rear door opened, and out stepped he Imperial Captai who'd accompanied the Mendellian Ambassador on her trip to the Republican building. He pointed a blaster carbine at the quartet, and gestured at them to get in the car. The Ambassador's hand emerging from the darkness, beckoning them. Her head appeared as she lent forward in her seat. "Come with me," she said, "if you want to live."