Project Boussh: The Demon by Brad Corletti "Can you stand?" Nick asked. Brad thought it over. "Maybe." He stood. The nausea attacked him in waves, but Brad fought it off. It was, after all, all in his head. "Right. The shuttle'll be here soon. We've gotta go." Nick said, very carefully not looking at the floor. Brad nodded. "Yup." As he did so, he noticed something unusual. He was wearing an Imperial uniform. "Wha?" he muttered. "That's what you were wearing when you were injured. C'mon." "Was I undercover?" "Yes. We haven't got much time." -- The shuttle approached, hanging there majestically in the air. It landed and a ramp came down to the ground. The man on top of it asked something, and Nick replied. Brad was too busy concentrating on keeping his balance and fighting off the nausea to pay much attention. They boarded the ramp, and soon thereafter Brad lost his battle. -- Brad's eyes opened. A horned man was pulling back from him, a strange device in his hand. Brad felt weirdly groggy. The horned man lifted him from the ground and held him upright. They walked some, and then he saw it. Standing in the hatchway was a sight that evoked raw terror in Brad's barely concious mind. The hateful eyes, the dreaded tusks, the inhuman flesh - a fragment of a half-remembered dream snagged in his psyche and he saw the beast for what it truly was, a demon in mortal form. The demon that had tainted him. The demon that he had bested and escaped from. And now he was in its grasp once more. The demon's words, when they came, were a nightmarish contrast to its form. The words were synthetic, metallic, devoid of emotion. Brad tried to say something, but the words refused to come. He ground his teeth furiously and spitted the demon with his own glare. A weapon, he needed a weapon. He had no weapon but his mind. The fog cleared. Piggy stood before him, obviously beside itself with rage. But Brad's mind latched onto reason. Memories flooded back and were restored to their appropriate place. Brad was whole once more. And he remembered his mission. "I must go! Lives hang in the balance!" Piggy stepped inside the shuttle. "Your own included. I see you do not even bother to hide your allegiance." "My allegiance is to myself, not the Empire," Brad replied. "This uniform is a means to an end." Although I'd rather faced Piggy in something less incriminating. Still, perhaps I can put a good spin on it. "What end is that?" The hatch cycled closed. Elassar left Brad standing unaided and headed for the cockpit, a triumphant smirk on his face. "The successful completion of this mission." "Forgive me if I don't believe a word you're saying," Piggy said. "Of course you won't. You'd rather have your assumption verified, and you'll discard any and all evidence that doesn't point towards your thesis. In your world anyone who is connected in any remote way to the Empire is suspect, isn't that right?" "You're defending the Empire?" "Of course not. I know what they did to you. I know what they did to Alderaan. I know what they've done to Rogue Squadron. I know what they've done to people all over the galaxy." Piggy was probably wondering where all this was going. This time, Brad didn't have the deus ex machina of a wardroid to bail him out. "I put in my time with the New Republic. I crewed on Home One. I bought a B-wing. It just happens that selling droids to the Empire was much more profitable. You can consider me an independent smuggler if you like. The Rebellion has a long history of working with smugglers." "You dare compare yourself to General Solo?" So far, so good. He's being reactionary and I'm chipping away at his resolve. "I said nothing of the sort. You made that comparison. But enough of this. I have information you want. You have something I want. Let's make a deal." "You want us to just let you go?" "Yes. I have things that need to be done." "And what do you offer us in return?" "The location of the Imperial base on Ear- Terra," he corrected himself. Piggy grunted. "We already know that." He shot Brad. "Your offer is refused, traitor."