Project Boussh: The Most Valuable Commodity
by Majick

    Mike looked outwards from the porch, spotting flashes of stormtrooper
armour in the forest. Comm signals from Nick and Josh had mentioned
slate grey armour, so Mike knew what to look for. He sighed. It was a
battle, he told himself. That would be the last thing he'd see that would
actually make sense.
    Vickie had enthusiastically leapt to the agressive defense of her
comrades,
eager to show what she had practised in her recent sparring match with
Mike. He grimaced. It was only a scant few hours since that battle had
finished. He suspected Vickie wasn't anywhere near 100% yet.
    He knew he wasn't.
    Vickie snapped off shot after shot from her blaster, hitting some,
missing others. Mike hung back, his dark clothing blending well with the
night, reluctant to go into battle until he knew more about the enemy.
He snatched at his comlink.
    "_Red Home_ this is, uh, oh, shit.. uh, Terra Four! Yeah. Uh, how many
drop ships were there?"
    "TFour, we caught too many to count on our sensors, about 100
stormtroopers in total, we think"
    "Acknowledged."

    Ahead, Vickie was wading into the stormies, full into her Battlemind
persona, slicing and dicing at the gray clad soldiers. She wondered why she
hadn't heard Mike's sabre, but dismissed the thought as irrelevant. If the
Brit was too busy to get in on the action, it just meant more action for
her.
    She lopped the head off of another trooper.

    Mike saw the camoflauged trooper just as it saw Vickie. He ran, and
dived, and sent the woman flying as a blaster bolt sizzled over their heads.
He rolled on impact, dividing the targets.
    "Vickie," he hissed. "You OK?"
    "Yes?" she replied, shakily.
    "That trooper over there must be drawing a bead on us. You stay low,
I'll get him.
    "And keep that bloody lightsabre off."

    He circled around the trees, looking out for the faintest hint of
movement.
    He'd completed a half circle, and he looked back across the way towards
Vickie. In between them lay the stormtrooper, the moonlight glinting off his
Blastech rifle.
    "Vickie," he whispered into his comlink. "Light up your lightsabre, then
dance it a few metres to the left using TK."
    Vickie did so, and the tropper snapped a shot in the lightsabre's
direction.
    Mike took the opportunity to jump onto the trooper, a leap that landed
him
square on the troopers back. The trooper squawked in agony, and thrashed
violently. Then Mike triggered his lightsabre, flush against the back of the
trooper's neck, and the noise cut out.
    "Vickie, get over here," he called out. She hurried over.
    "Go find Wedge," he ordered, when she got in range. "Get aboard the _Red
Home_, and stay safe."
    "Why?" she asked.
    "Look at you," he hissed. "All in white, a shining sabre in your hand,
and
sooner or later, you're gonna get combat jitters. I can't spare the time to
nurse you through that.
Get going." She hesitated, trying to see if this were another of his jokes.
    "Move, or I'll stun you now, and hope this bush will hide you," he said,
calmly.
    With this, she realised he was serious, and headed away from him,
stopping only
once to look back.


    Mike moved away from the cabin. Around him, the sounds of battle raged.
The
Imperials had scattered their forces, meaning the Boussh teams had to spread
out to
make contact, while the Imperial forces were converging on their target. It
was sound
tactics, but it meant the Bousshers were spread dreadfully thin.
    Very thin.
    Putting two of the three Jedi together probably made sound sense
somewhere, but Mike didn't think those orders made sense. Far better Vickie
was safe
aboard _Red Home_, where she might even get let loose on the gunnery station.

    Vickie wondered what had Mike in such a bad mood. She knew he'd seen
combat before, had even been pretty badly cut up over the deaths of his
enemies. She wondered if that was what was playing through his mind. But she
was a
responsible adult, older than Mike, even. As she climbed the ramp into _Red
Home_, she
resolved to have serious words with Mike when they met again.

    Mike grimaced at the memories of the people he'd killed. They'd been
necessary, so he felt... ok... about it... Even so, he still felt as though
the minimum of bloodshed should be aimed for. Certainly on his own side.
Without Vickie
around, he wouldn't be worried about her getting hurt.
    "Leave that kind of worry for the leaders," he thought to himself.

    He cleared the forest into a small clearing, where the one of the larger
dropships was.
    And found an AT-ST waiting for him.

    Mike sighed, and laid down his weapons. A stormtrooper marched over to
him, and
pointed his gun at him.
    Just as the AT-ST exploded, and a pair of X-Wings flew overhead.
    Mike took advantage of the shock to snatch the rifle from the
stormtroopers hands, and scythed shots across the ranks of troopers gathered
around the dropship.
    When the stormtrooper recovered from the shock, Mike already had the
blaster rifle pointed
at him.
    Mike looked him over.
    "Well now. If I remember my Imp rank insgnia," he said, "you're a
captain, am I right?"
    The stormtrooper said nothing.
    "Dear oh dear. So sure and cofident. Let me put it this way. I've just
killed lots of people,
you got me out of bed, and I was dreaming about Salma Hayek, Denise Richards
and Drew
Barrymore.
    "I am not a happy man, captain."
    A backhanded blow sent the troopers helmet flying off into the forest,
and a nervous and
sweaty young man stood before them.
    "Dear oh dear. You must be fresh out of officer school. Tell me,
captain. Who is in charge
of this, overall?"
    The stormtrooper said nothing.
    "Drew Barrymore, captain. There was _whipped cream_!"
    With a short burst of telekinesis, Mike bought his lightsabre wobblily
to his hand. He
activated it, and held it a few millimetres from the captains throat.
    The stormtrooper swallowed very, very carefully.
    "There was a four poster bed captain. Now, tell me everything."
    The stormtrooper opened his mouth, very, very slightly, and hissed
"Gr'nd Adm'al Thr'n."
    "And who else? Who's the men on the inside? I know you hear the rumours,
captain."
    "P'l McEw'k. Br'd D'f'l."
    Mike hissed, and pulled the trigger. A blue stun shot hit the trooper
clean in the head, and
he dropped to the ground.
    "Well," he said, musing whether it would be a good idea to turn the
selector switch back
to kill, and actualy murder the dozen or so stormies. "I'm probably already
in deep trouble as
it is..."
    Then he thought of Josh running around with a lightsabre, playing at
being a Jedi. "F*ck it. If
he get's to kill an AT-ST, so do I."
    He turned, and hurried into the forest.