It was with baited breaths that the bridge crew of the Lightbringer watched the sensor contact for the Imperial escort carrier come ever closer to the centre of the tactical map, weaving through asteroids with surprising agility and speed. Not as nimble as their quick Raider corvette, but it was also more than two and a half times longer, as well as built for something completely different. With that in mind, both its armament and its speed were nothing to scoff at.
"Lieutenant, we have a problem," the sensor officer announced, superfluous as that announcement might have been. Mercer himself had obviously seen it himself, already: seemingly having learned from their previous engagement, the one commanding their enemies was obviously reluctant to follow into a situation where they could not control what was going on. Instead, the larger vessel had simply launched more of the flying sarcophagi that more polite circles tended to call TIE fighters.
"Be ready to re-engage energy at a moment's notice, shields have first priority," the Imperial deserter ordered in clipped tones, eyes riveted to the tactical map, which showed the sensor silhouettes of three of the Imperial strike craft closing in. "If they wanted to attack us, they have other options. Everyone, just keep calm."
It was a tense silence that filled the bridge, as the three fighters closed in and completed first one, then two fly-bys, close enough that a particularly long human might have been able to touch their wings, only to then immediately lose their hands because, well, they were moving at a hefty speed, despite the relatively close confines of the asteroid field.
"Come on, you know you want to…" Mercer muttered, staring at the sensor contact for the enemy carrier, still sitting idly behind a large asteroid. "We're obviously not a danger anymore, and I'm sure you'd want to capture the one who dared come after you, right?"
"New sensor contact," the sensor operator informed the group mechanically, though the first officer thought he might have heard a sliver of fear slip into the officer's voice. "It's a TIE bom… boarding shuttle!"
"Ready ion weapons, open fire as soon as they come around the asteroid. Ion weaponry only on the shuttle," Mercer immediately ordered, gaze flicking from tactical, to the gunnery stations, back to the holo map. "Seems like they really did learn. Helm, take us past the secondary minefield at 3 o' clock as soon as that shuttle is disabled."
From behind the shadow of the truly giant space rock moved out a small shape, its outer dimensions similar to the far more common TIE bombers it was modelled after, and began turning its way toward the apparently stricken form of the corvette, vulnerably lying in space, ripe for the taking.
"Open fire," the young woman manning tactical ordered to the gunners working under her, and within moments, the void around the Lightbringer was filled with lightning of green and blue, as the cannons began opening up on their surprised opposition. With nary a whimper to mark their passing, the three fighters were disposed of, and the boarding shuttle disabled. "Strike craft terminated according to your orders, shields at full strength."
"The carrier's energy signature just spiked," the sensor officer informed the bridge at large. "Temperature readings suggest increased engine power… Yes, they're falling off."
Against his better judgement, Mercer allowed himself a small, mumbled curse. While it was certainly a victory in its own right to simply drive this particular enemy away, it was not exactly what they had been hoping for, and it was not what they needed, either. The Inquisitor was still their target for this mission, and now liable to hide behind enough stormtroopers and Imperial ships to make even people as used to impossible odds as Harry and the Alliance think twice about attacking again. However, it was in that moment that one particular titbit of information came back to the former Imperial, a sort of accepted truth that tended to be bandied around the rank and file; never provoke one of the Emperor's 'special' servants. So, he made his way from where he had been standing behind his captain's command chair over to the communications station, selected an open channel and started broadcasting.
"This is the Emperor's great Inquisitor?" he asked into the aether, neither expecting nor really wanting an answer. "If I didn't know that monster lacked this kind of emotion altogether, I would think you were a pity-hire."
On the holographical map, the enemy signature had stopped moving. "I mean really, losing against a single corvette with a ship that's almost three times the size. What does failure like that go for these days? Execution? Banishment?" Toward the bridge crew he added, "Make ready to detonate those ion charges. If this works, they're going to be pissed."
And indeed, after the last sentence had been broadcast, the enemy escort carrier did turn around at the highest turning speed it could probably muster and started barrelling toward the gap between the asteroids the crew had deemed most likely for them to fly through in their setting up of the ambush. Then, right as they passed the midpoint of that small passage, the satisfying explosion of ion charges lit up space and left the larger ship shieldless and with sputtering engines.
OOOOOOOO
"Alright people, it's our turn now, as long as they're still confused," Harry informed the gathered boarding party inside the LAAT/i, before tapping the intercom system they had installed to speak to the pilot. "Take us in, middle of the dorsal superstructure."
As the former Republic gunship began its flight to the desired entry point, its location curtesy of the captured commando's involuntarily given information, the wizard returned attention to the actual boarders in the troop compartment. "They've lost another twenty in an attempted boarding, but we don't know, who the people inside that shuttle actually were. Until we learn anything else, assume the continued presence of 28 storm commandoes. You know your targets, let's get moving."
"Yes, sir!" the assembled group replied enthusiastically; learning there were potentially twenty less people to fight against would do that to you, Harry surmised, even as the troop compartment was vented of its atmosphere and he had to rely on his armour's inbuilt environmental controls and oxygen supply to continue in the general state of 'living'. Upon his nod, Javoc took up his bag and made a leap toward the hull of the enemy ship, sticking to the metal by magnets on his hands and feet. After disengaging the force that kept his hands locked to the surface, he began pulling ominously shaped objects from that very same bag and affixing them to the thick plating.
No matter, these were strong directional charges, and it would take more than a few inches, or even feet, of doonium, to keep them at bay.
As soon as he was out of the blast zone (surprisingly small, owing once again to the fact that these were directional charges), Javoc triggered the explosives in an impressive display of destruction, blowing a hole into the hull wide enough for two men to walk through side by side. Also, large enough for a good portion of the carrier's internal atmosphere to be vented in moments. It stood to hope for the non-combat personnel that they were somewhere else, behind some sealed bulkhead, maybe on the bridge. Upon his hand-signalled order, the boarding party fell in line behind Harry and Arden, both with shields up, jumped out of the troop compartment and through the breach.
OOOOOOOO
Rage was burning through Inquisitor Fandiq's veins; it had been there even before that insolent little insect had dared insult her, and over an open channel, no less. But when her carrier had been disabled, and particularly when an explosion of an entirely different kind had shaken the ship, the red haze of absolute fury had truly exerted itself over her senses.
Lightsabre drawn, she was now pacing along the corridors toward where she sensed the presence in the Force that had not been there before; it was an odd one, to be sure, but it was also the only thing that had really changed after the explosion, so it stood to reason the two were somehow related. Not that reason was high on her list of priorities, right then. As she stepped out of the turbolift on the uppermost level and pivoted into the corridor she expected to meet her adversary in, she was immediately accosted by blaster fire, which she batted away with her red blade, sneering at the now screaming intruder with the charred blaster wound in contempt.
Then, however, something changed. When she swung to intercept the next bolt, that movement was not met with the usual fulfilling sensation of the shot ricocheting. Instead there was a hot burning sensation on her lower arms, followed by an intense sting to the left shoulder. Kinetic weapons. The Inquisitor cursed internally, unleashed a wave of Force energy charged with her anger and fear down the corridor and slipped back into the one she had come from.
OOOOOOOO
"That was a Nightsister," Arden declared unceremoniously, the depth of loathing on her face speaking to her contempt for her fellow exiled Dathomirian, those that had fully committed themselves to the dark side of the Force. "We need to follow her, quickly. There's no telling what she might cook up, otherwise."
At Harry's raised eyebrow she added, "Yes, literally. Or figuratively, we don't really know what her specialty is."
"Understood," the wizard replied, already turning toward where the witch had made her escape to. "Javoc, Corsek, with me. The rest, proceed according to plan."
As they had been ordered, the rest of the boarding party started dispersing in three distinct groups, bound for the three main areas they would need to hold to control the ship, namely the reactor room (control of which came with the added benefit of preventing someone from simply blowing up the entire thing, lest it fell into the hands of the attackers), the main bridge and the secondary bridge, or rather the space traffic control, from which the squadrons of fighter craft were controlled. Anything beyond that could be swept systematically later, as long as they held these three places. Funnily enough, no matter the size of the ship, this always remained a rule of thumb, as Harry had learned from a few of the more 'adventurous' members of the Rebellion he had been working with, even for an ISD. From a theoretic standpoint, that was, not that anyone had ever really tried.
"She's bleeding," Arden noted, looking at the corner around which their adversary had fled and pointing at a crimson stain on the otherwise pristine floor. "Won't be for long, most likely. Most of my… former sisters have at least some skills in the healing arts, and a wound from a simple projectile weapon won't challenge her."
Spurned by their comrade's warning words, the four-person party quickly turned the corner to follow the trail left behind by their adversary, even as the spacing between the droplets of red liquid on the floor steadily increased.
"Either she's slowly healing herself, or she's getting increasingly panicked and moving faster," their tracker read, all the while continuing to dash after their quarry, almost flying along the corridor. "Down there."
Next to the turbolift, they found Harry's new personal enemy: an emergency shaft with a ladder in it. Silently grumbling, he let Arden get into it to climb down first (there was no 'up' to climb to), with him directly behind and Javoc and Corsek bringing up the rear. Just like the corridors on Imperial ships usually were, the maintenance and emergency shafts were stark, utilitarian and functional, but where the general-purpose areas had a certain roominess to them, that was totally missing from these ducts. Had he been claustrophobic, the wizard ventured internally, it would have been his own personal nightmare.
"She got out here," Arden announced from below him, pointing at an opened hatch, just like the one they had entered through. "There's more blood."
That almost gleeful pronunciation was soon followed by a more alarmed one. "Damn, this is the hangar level."
"Mercer," Harry called into his helmet communicator, forgetting for a moment that the Lightbringer was still jamming communications across the spectrum to keep at bay any possible emergency distress signals. When he remembered, he cursed once again, more loudly this time. "You go on, I have an idea."
As the other three were running after the increasingly scarce bloods spatters into the direction of the carrier's large main hangar, the young wizard did his best to centre himself and think of a dark and hungry night in a forest, what now seemed like a lifetime ago.
"With the messenger patronus, it's not really about thinking something different, it's about thinking something more," Hermione said, staring in concentration at the piece of wood that was her wand, the one they were now sharing between the two of them. In an effort to get used to it, Harry had asked for some lessons in magic that would give him reason to use spells, maybe push his own boundaries a little. "I'm not doing a really good job of explaining this, am?"
"I wouldn't say that," the young man replied, looking at his bushy-haired, most trusted and true friend in amusement. "You still have to have the same feeling that lets you use a standard patronus, right?"
"Exactly," Hermione nodded eagerly, seemingly taking to the throwback to simpler times like a fish to the water. Trying to teach him some piece of magic was so utterly, ridiculously common for the two of them that it really did provide the much-needed relief for the immense stress being on the run had subjected them to. "It's what makes it so difficult. You have to keep the state of mind required for a patronus to work while also thinking of the message you want your messenger to convey. The less happy the message, the harder it is to cast the charm."
Considering the current situation, Harry doubted casting a messenger patronus would be easy, especially with not having used the original spell in… well, it had to be years, by now. In trying to recount the thoughts that had once enabled him to cast a patronus strong enough to drive away an entire swarm of dementors, he was shocked to find out he really could not elicit quite the same emotional response as he once had. Instead, almost unbidden, memories of this life, his new life came to mind; scenes spent in the isolation of Dathomir's jungles, laughing with Arden and Mercer and the other members of the crew, and waking up with the slim body of Leia curled up next to him just a week earlier.
"Tell Mercer: The Inquisitor is trying to flee, move to intercept anything that comes out of the hangar!" he thought with all his might, before once again incanting the spell that had raised eyebrows when he claimed he had been able to do so since he was barely into his teens. "Expecto Patronum!"
What came forth from his wand though, was not the large stag he had been expecting, and Harry allowed himself to feel a pang of loss at the disappearance. Instead, what came into being were squared, scaled jaws, short arms, intelligent eyes, strong hind legs. Within moments, the ethereal representation of Rex… Regina the Kwi stood before him, batting her strong snout against his shoulder and speeding off into the distance, presumably to its intended destination, the bridge of the Lightbringer.
Without the time to really do so in that particular moment, the young wizard decided to postpone ruminations on the implications of his changed patronus and simply concentrated on the still ongoing chase as he dashed around the last few corners to the hangar, from where he could already hear raised voices. The picture that awaited him in the strangely empty space (just another reminder that a good deal of the crew had already been dealt with) was one he had not been expecting.
There were Javoc and Corsek, obviously, but they were standing to the side, riveted and wide-eyed, watching the goings-on in the centre of the room right before the ramp of a ship Harry vaguely remembered as being some kind of heavily armed transport for the Imperials, though for the life of him, he could not remember the actual name of the class. In the background, before the backdrop of space and directly before the open hangar hovered the Lightbringer like a predator waiting out its prey.
That prey stood opposite Arden, breathing heavily, blood still silently dripping from her shoulder. Now that he had the opportunity to see her up close, the young wizard was able to see a few similarities between this woman's choice of clothing, as compared to what his friend had been wearing when they had first met. Arguably, the Nightsister's outfit looked more sinister, with darker colours and Imperial crests added to complete her transformation into a servant of the Emperor, but the basic substance was there. And if he had to guess, Harry would have said that was the reason Arden seemed so reluctant to engage her, even though, with kinetic weapons aimed at her that had already proven their effectiveness, the fight was likely to be over in moments. As he stepped into the vicinity, it proved enough of a distraction to have her look at him for just a fraction of a second, yet that was enough for the Imperial agent, it seemed.
"A sister of mine," the Inquisitor observed in a sibilant voice. "Don't deny it; I myself have learned to hold a staff just the way you do. But why are you out here, far away from Dathomir's lush jungles? Catering to the whims of males?"
"As if I'd tell you," Arden spat back poisonously, and Harry was getting worried that the other woman was actually managing to get under her skin.
"Ah, such anger. Were you banished for using the shadow spells, for seeking power, just the way I was?" A mad gleam in her eyes, their sinister opponent narrated, mostly disregarding the other people in the room. "We're not so different, you and I. One small decision and you could be me… or am I wrong, and you did actually decide to join the Nightsisters? Were you too weak, feeb… hurgh."
Without warning, the sound of a projectile weapon being discharged rang through the hangar, echoing from the far walls and the ship still inside.
"Maybe we are somewhat alike, you and I," Arden replied, looking at the other witch now standing before her, grabbing the bleeding wound in her stomach with a shocked expression. "But not where it counts."
Without another word, she turned around and left the way they had come, leaving the other three alone with their dying adversary.
"Incarcerus," Harry muttered, pointing his left hand toward the stricken woman, watching strong ropes secure her wrists and ankles, not that she had much fight left in her. "You two, seal the room. I want to get as much out of this as possible. Arden can take care of herself."
"Yes, Boss," the two men agreed readily, taking up positions with their blaster rifles trained onto the main axes of entry to provide a fiery welcome for any unwanted visitors.
Harry himself stepped up to the Inquisitor his friend had just disabled, watching dispassionately as blood continued seeping into the black, uniform-like clothes she was wearing; after what he had seen these people did with the last one they had taken out, his compassion was less for the shell of a human that now lay before him, but more for the real human she had likely once been. And what he had been unable to do with the first two of these agents they had bested, he now had the ability to: he could make the best of another eventually senseless death and pull everything out of her that he could.
Looking into her pain-widened eyes with his own, both pairs unflinching, he mouthed the words to the legilimency attack he himself had been subjected to by Snape more times than he could count and dove into her mind, the defences she might once have had only a shadow of their former strength in this moment of incredible weakness. Assaulted by images and sounds, filtering out the relevant soon became impossible, as it seemed that, unable as she was to keep him out, the wounded creature that lay there on the hangar floor had instead embraced the contact and started sharing with him, not what he wanted to see, but what she wanted him to.
A little girl in a village surrounded by the sights and sounds of Dathomir…
An adolescent fancy with the power of the forbidden magicks…
Banishment…
Tests and trials…
Servitude to the Empire in exchange for some unknown trade the clan mother of the Nightsisters had made…
Torture…
Even more tests and trials, each one more cruel than the last…
Interrogations, both as the victim and the interrogator…
It was a startling amount of information, the stream of which abruptly ended only a few dozen seconds after it had started. Down on the ground, the wellspring of that stream had taken her final breath.
OOOOOOOO
"So, Boss, learn anything interesting from that Inquisitor?" Mercer asked, when Harry finally returned to the bridge after a very extensive shower that had been warranted not by a feeling of physical dirtiness, but rather some kind of stain on his soul; watching what Fandiq, the name of the Imperial agent they had taken out only an hour earlier, had done and had done to her was singularly disturbing.
"Not much of direct value," the captain responded rubbing his still aching temples in slow circles. "As soon as she noticed what I was doing, she proceeded to relay her life's story. Before that, I only learned the first things I was looking for, some high-level clearances and the location of a tracking beacon the Empire had on the carrier, so I disabled that one. Everyone ready to move? Have we heard from the Morningstar?"
It was a transparent ploy to change the subject, Harry knew, but luckily, they really did have to move, lest some overly nosy Imperial patrol happened upon the two ships hanging around in space where no one really had any reason to be.
"We had a transmission from Hound a few minutes ago, just like expected," his first officer replied, pointing toward the navigational maps. "Hyperspace route, coordinates. They found a viable candidate, it seems. Minimally charted, the system was never really of any interest for some kind of development, not too far from a hyperspace route. You'll be happy to hear we're setting up shop just three hyperlane intersections away from the Perlemian trade route."
"Sounds goo… sounds good," Harry yawned widely, only now starting to realise how much the quick and intense bombardment with memories had tired him out. "How long?"
His second-in-command winced a little at that question. "If it were just us, I'd say just a few days. With that carrier's transponders still in the original setting, we can't really go through the core, that thing is way too conspicuous; fourteen days, if we want to stay away from any major population centres and hyperlanes."
"Yes, that would be good, I think," the captain replied tiredly, once again back to massaging his temples. "Do that, won't you? I'll call Leia, then get some sleep."
Thankfully holding himself back on the ribbing Harry was sure he wanted to dish out, Mercer smiled knowingly and indulgingly, nodded softly and turned to the bridge crew.
"Signal the crew on the carrier that we'll escort them along the indirect route, then prepare to jump," the former Imperial officer ordered, and it was the last of him the young wizard heard for a while, as he stepped into the turbolift and rode to a well-deserved chat with his girlfriend and an equally deserved night of sleep.
OOOOOOOO
Arden and Jane, the Twi'lek former slave that still refused to make too many decisions for herself, were circling each other warily, staves in hand and eyes intently focused on each other's movements.
The witch was unsure, what exactly had moved her to do it, but she had taken the young woman under her wings, so to speak; maybe it was a lingering feeling of guilt over how her own people treated about half of their population, something she had only rebelled against after it had started impacting her family, maybe it was the case that seeing someone seem so lost was simply inacceptable. Regardless of the reason, she had done her best though, and while a lot of the former slave's verve in attacking the challenge that was learning anything, let alone combat from Arden seemed like it stemmed from this being what Harry wanted for her, she was beginning to appear more self-sufficient. Yet choosing a name was not something she was willing to do.
With nary a whisper of her agile feet upon the mats, the red-skinned Twi'lek surged forward, the wooden staff swinging in a tight arc toward Arden's left side, coming closer and closer… only to be parried, diverted and used to step into the attacker's personal space. Within a moment, Jane was wheezing from a solid hit to the solar plexus with the tip of her opponent's weapon.
"You're dead," the witch declared dispassionately. "Don't overreach. Try again."
Once again, the two were circling each other, the pupil now more wary than before. It was usually how these bouts went, with Jane having to take one hit to reawaken the caution that had once overly plagued her.
This time, though, it was Arden who attacked; in a small moment of apparent distraction on her pupil's part she made a wider step into the younger woman's weaker right side to land only a weak blow, owing to a last minute turn on the Twi'lek's part.
"Good reaction," she commented. "Next time don't get distracted."
Her words were not being minded though, it seemed, for her pupil had now stopped their little dance altogether, simply holding the staff in her left hand, low at her side.
"What is it?" Arden inquired in a tone of voice somehow caught between empathetic and brash, as odd a combination as it might be. But when Jane looked at her finally, it was quickly clear that no answer would be forthcoming, as there was only a deep-seated confusion behind those two eyes.