Project Boussh: Turning The Worm
by Josh Nolan

"How many've ya are there?"

"Four - there's a couple in the back of the van."

The motel cashier squinted at the hatchback and the van, and turned
her gaze back to Josh, searching his face for any sign that there were
more.  Josh coolly returned the gaze.  *If you are interrogated: your
secrets are more valuable than your life.  Do not even hint at their
existence.*  For once, Josh was glad of the stormtrooper litany in his
mind - it helped him keep his face saying exactly what he wanted it to
say.

"It's sixty bucks a room for the night," said the cashier, finally.
"Cash up front."

Josh nodded, and pulled two fifty- and a twenty-dollar note out of his
wallet, and handed them to the cashier, who grumpily shoved them in
the till.  She grabbed two keys and handed them over grudgingly.

"Thank you," said Josh, and the cashier grunted dismissively at him.
Josh turned away, walked to driver's window of the van and handed over
the keys to Nick.  "I've got an idea for checking just how nutso Brad
is," Josh whispered.  "Give him a bedroom to himself, and tie him on
there.  Try and keep the Ewoks quiet, and don't leave any of the
ordnance in there with him.  Ooryl's got a medpack somewhere, right?"


Nick looked behind him at where the Gand was concealed inside the van,
with a questioning look.  He turned back to Josh and nodded.

"Okay.  Have him get ready some stuff for getting someone out of a
stun quickly, okay?  I'll be back in a bit."

"Where are you going?" asked Nick.

Josh smiled.  "I'm going to get some Hungry Jack's."

*******

Brad's senses rushed in on him at once - the smell of clean linen,
mixed with hot food, sudden bright light when he opened his eyes,
quiet classical music in the background and the bite of ropes as he
tried to move.

As his eyes adjusted to the light, he found himself staring into the
face of a fairly young man - early-to-mid twenties, Brad guessed -
with unruly curly hair and a neatly-trimmed goatee.  The man smiled,
and said in a soft English accent, "Welcome back, Major."

The man turned and put the empty hypospray cannister on the sideboard
next to a brown paper bag festooned with a red-and-yellow label, and
began untying the ropes that held him down.  Brad could see the man
was dressed in a plain black T-shirt, jeans and some battered running
shoes - fairly nondescript Terran garb.

"Who are you?" Brad demanded, remembering to adopt his Imperial
accent.

The man snapped a quick salute.  "Lieutenant Jared Antilles, Imperial
Special Forces, at your service, sir.  Please forgive the necessity to
tie you - I couldn't have you wandering off on your own and falling
into the hands of the Rebels again, sir.  I hope you understand."

"Wandering off?"  Brad asked mildly.  "How would I be able to do that
while I was stunned, Lieutenant?"

The Lieutenant ignored his chiding tone, and replied, "I had to leave
temporarily to retrieve some food for you, sir.  And since I didn't
know how long the Rebels had stunned you for, I took the precaution of
tying you down.  I apologise profusely, sir."

Brad sat up, his head spinning briefly from the aftereffects of both
the stun and the stimulant.  "You say the Rebels had captured me."

"Yes sir," said the Lieutenant.  "I found them combing the wreckage of
your base.  I wounded one of them, and used the opportunity to extract
you.  I was not followed, sir."

"Very good, Lieutenant."

"Thank you, sir."

"Where is this place, Lieutenant?"

"That is need-to-know information, sir.  I am unable to impart it to
you."

"Lieutenant, I would propose that I am a better judge than you of what
I need to know.  I order you to tell me."

"Major, I have standing orders from higher up than you to exercise my
discretion when dealing with possible traitors, sir."  The Lieutenant
smiled in a cheerfully sinister way.  "As you are no doubt aware by
now, Major, there is a Rebel operation proceeding on-planet at this
moment. Some of the information I was receiving from my informant in
your operation was rather... shall we say... disturbing.  The Rebels
seemed to find your base rather easily.  No doubt this will cause
concern in the higher echelons as to your reliability."

Brad felt the blood drain out of his face.  That the New Republic
thought him a traitor, he had accepted days ago.  But to find that
Inquisitor Piggy could strike at him to ruin his life even in an
Imperial stronghold...

The Lieutenant continued, "However, if you were to have some
information on Rebel operations that has somehow managed to elude us
so far, it might go some way towards restoring the Empire's faith in
you."

Brad stared the still-smiling stormtrooper in the eyes.  If he so much
as hinted at his previous involvement with the New Republic, he had no
doubt that the overly courteous Lieutenant would turn discourteous
very quickly - and something told him the discourtesy would be
somewhat less mild than "You Rebel scum."

Taking a deep breath, Brad prepared himself.  He had to be convincing,
to tell the story like he'd told no story before in his life.

If he failed, it would likely be his last.