Project Boussh: Trust
by Brad Corletti

"Bloody useless Intelligence slime. Fucking moronic Gamorrean science
experiment. Too goddamned nosy for his own bloody good. Have to know
every goddamned thing about you. Have to look the gift horse in the
mouth, and try to take its bloody tonsils out. 'Screw the mission, you
have secrets!' Pity he got to Nick, he could have been useful. Walking
piece of filth. I can't believe that's standard operating procedure."

Brad kept up a constant stream of insults and curses as he flew across
the country. The droid seated behind him did not seem to care.

Eventually he reached his destination. Lochiel airfield.

Lochiel airfield was simply a large rural paddock with uncropped
runways, used during weekends to land and launch sailplanes - aircraft
without engines. Brad was using it as a temporary base of operations.
It had a clubhouse with running water, food, drink, bunks... and
hangars. It was where Brad had learned to be a pilot. It held a lot of
memories. Mostly good ones.

He floated the B-wing into a hangar with his repulsorlifts and shut it
down.

He wandered into the clubhouse, tossing Dorset Konnair a casual salute
as he entered. "I have bad news and I have bad news," he said.

She looked up at him, her legs on the table as she leant back in a
chair. "So give me the bad news first." She put her datapad aside. For
what felt like the billionth time he marvelled at the air the blue
starflare tattoo gave her.

"The bad news is that the mission is falling apart. You saw Piggy and
Ooryl's X-wings were destroyed on the ground. The intelligence centre
is compromised and now they're stranded, on top of that. There have
been sightings of Imperial forces in far too many places. The bad guys
appear to be winning the Intel war. Against us."

"You say the C3 team is stranded. You have a two-seater B-wing. You
could give them a lift to one of the other teams."

"And that brings me to the second piece of bad news." Brad took a deep
breath. "They think I'm a traitor."

Dorset regarded him evenly. "And what would give them that idea?" she
asked, her voice painfully neutral.

"The B-wing. Piggy apparently can't imagine a private citizen legally
acquiring enough wealth to buy one. He thinks I'm being paid by the
Empire for something."

"What, in particular?"

"He has only suspicion. I didn't tell him the truth. I lied my arse
off long enough for my droid to sneak around the building and get the
drop on them."

"The truth. You haven't told me the truth. You haven't told me
anything."

"That's right. And as much as it pains me to say it, I can't trust
you. Even if you promised to keep my secret, I don't know if you'd
consider that promise more important than ..." he trailed off,
unwilling to complete the sentence.

"More important than what, Brad."

Brad winced. This was not a 'I've screwed up' wince. This was a 'my
life is unravelling' wince.

"Oh God." He slumped into a chair. "Are the details of my past really
this important? Aren't I defined by what I do today? Not what I did
yesterday? Do I have no allies left in the world?" His voice was
bleak. "I walked into the farm after shooting down two TIEs, and Nick
was pointing a blaster at me. Because my financial records aren't
checking out. A blaster, Dorset."

Dorset smoothly rose to her feet. "Tell me everything." She walked
towards him. Her voice was soothing. "I'm your wing. We don't keep
secrets. Tell me the truth."