"All ships, prepare to jump on my mark," Captain Vuli on board her EF76 Nebulon-B frigate broadcasted to the flotilla she had been assigned to command as a diversion for some kind of special operation. "The moment we drop out of hyperspace the frigates and corvettes form up on me, Yellow and Gold Squadrons move to the port flank, Magenta and Lilac to starboard. Remember, we're there to draw their attention and survive the battle. No one is to actively engage their ships, and keep your retreat coordinates locked in."
She looked over her bridge crew, that loyal team of officers of different species and backgrounds, all fighting together for a common cause, and it warmed the Mon Cala's heart.
"May the Force be with us all," she finally said as she threw a glance to the specially calibrated clock on the wall. "Commence jump in T-5, 4, 3, 2, 1, engage."
The time spent in hyperspace was very short, for the flotilla had been waiting in deep space close to the Keldooine system, and only moments later, the group of ships was back in realspace, sitting at the edge of the planet's gravity well. As per Vuli's orders, the larger ships formed up in a defensive formation around the two frigates leading the small force, while the four wings of fighters moved to the flanks. The Imperial fleet reacted to their presence almost immediately, and the scattering of warships started forming up around the Procursator-class star destroyer that seemed to be the lead vessel.
"X-wings, keep S-foils closed and accelerate to maximum speed, move to flank on either side and draw their anti-fighter units away," the gifted tactician ordered, hoping to use the new fighter-crafts already fierce reputation to their advantage. Happy that her orders were being followed to the letter, Vuli watched as the two X-wing squadrons, Magenta and Yellow, broke away from the fleet diagonally.
With satisfaction, she watched as the Imperial commander (he seemed to lack both tactical knowledge and survival instinct), obviously worried about the approaching snubfighters and their payload of proton torpedoes, sent almost the entirety of his fighters as well as the two corvettes he had after the craft she had sent out as bait.
"Magenta and Yellow squadron, open S-foils and engage their fighters, disengage when those Tartan cruisers get too close," she refreshed her orders to the two squadron leaders. Moments later, the tactical display was filled with fighter pilots notifying the flotilla commander of enemy kills.
The first part of her plan had borne fruit, and she allowed herself a small smile as the nimble and quick Alliance fighters, having blown the inferior in every way TIEs away, started leading the Tartan cruisers, which really should have been called corvettes, on a merry chase away from the core of their fleet.
Vuli supposed things would have been very different had the repair yard been able to add his fighter complement into the fray but as the brass had promised, the special ops team had closed off that angle of attack. With a confusing mix of eagerness and glee, the captain watched the approaching Imperial warships; ironically, as far as she was concerned, the Nebulon-B escort frigate, with its impressive anti-fighter abilities, was a bigger problem than the pocket star destroyer. That problem was made even worse by the fact that this one was the original Imperial model, not the picked-over ones that tended to find their way into Alliance service. Those damn things were a lot more durable.
"Corvettes, bank to port, engage that frigate at maximum distance," she ordered the captains of the three CR-90s she had been assigned. As she had hoped would happen, the escort frigate banked to starboard, its crew reacting to the extreme-distance fire they were now being subjected to.
And with the frigate distracted, the hammer could finally drop.
"Lilac and Gold, bank to starboard and make your attack run."
Immediately, the two squadrons of Y-wings she had held in reserve jumped into action, their engine pods flaring before the blackness of space. The two wings of fighter-bombers, each of them containing 12 ships, each ship carrying two torpedo launch tubes, surged toward the lone Imperial capital ship, whose commander had committed the rookie mistake of stripping away his starfighter screen simply because he had seemed to underestimate the danger the old vessels were able to pose.
In half of the 48 eager torpedo launchers now waited ion torpedoes, ready to launch at a single press of a button. In fact, that was what happened, as Lilac dropped their payload. Soon, 24 ion explosions had robbed the enemy capital ship of its shields and much of its energy.
"Gold Squadron, your primary targets are their shield generators," Captain Vuli ordered the second group that still had to complete their bombing run and were now closing in on the horribly exposed shield domes on top of the destroyer's bridge module. "Lilac, bank around and run an attack on the engines."
At this point, she was merely watching dispassionately while the bomber squadrons were crippling their foe. The Tartan cruisers had turned around at this point, but they had been running after the X-wings for so long that their help would come too late. The only thing their presence would achieve was that, instead of a burnt-out wreck, the Empire would be left with a burning case of 'massive repairs needed'.
OOOOOOOO
"Boss, it's time," Mercer said, indicating the timer he was wearing under his uniform top. "Want me to go after that dropship?"
"Yes, do it," Harry agreed, before turning to the Rebel soldier, whose disillusionment charm he had dispelled moments earlier. "Patch me into the PA system and activate the evacuation alarm."
Soon, the dissonant sound of an alarm going off reached their ears, quiet though it might be after passing through the ship first. Harry threw the soldier a questioning glance and received a nod in return.
"All hands, this is ISB Colonel Landa. This facility has been compromised and sabotaged. Rebels are attacking the system, I repeat, Rebel forces are attacking the system," he ordered in the most grave and authoritative voice he could muster. "You are hereby ordered to evacuate according to Standing Order 10-00-5. I repeat, Standing Order 10-00-5 has been invoked."
Harry motioned for the soldier to kill the connection before turning around to look at the two 'stormtroopers' that had joined them on the bridge.
"You got everything?" the wizard asked Corsek and Javoc as they were taking off their helmets.
"The whole damn armoury is completely empty," Javoc affirmed. "These bags are amazing."
He chuckled, thinking back to a pink, rather girly example of a space-charmed bag and wondered, whether the two would have been quite as complimentary of one.
"Hey boss, where's Mercer?" Corsec inquired, looking all around the bridge for his fellow Imperial deserter.
"He's 'procuring'" Harry answered, putting the last word in air-quotes, "a dropship for us. Wait a sec…"
Pulling out his handheld communicator, the captain of the Morningstar activated the unit and said, "Mercer, you there? We're ready to go, just waiting on you."
"Just about setting down, boss," came the prompt reply. "Aaaaand, ready to go."
A smile on his lips, Harry turned toward the helmsman and the accompanying R2 unit. "Well, you heard the man; let's get going."
OOOOOOOO
Captain Vuli watched in considerate consternation, as a quintet of vessels emerged from the repair yard. It was a weird combination of ships, too, containing a Raider corvette, a Guardian-class light cruiser, a single Lambda-shuttle and another escort frigate, the original Imperial configuration, as well as one of those old Republic Acclamators, extensively modified as a cargo hauler.
That original feeling of consternation, though, was only a sliver of what was to come, when her sensors officer informed her that the entire complement of escape pods on the Imperial station had been launched without the installation taking even a single hit. Still, she had little choice but to proceed with her plans.
"Magenta and Yellow, close S-foils, go to maximum speed and retreat to the rally point," Vuli ordered the two X-wing squadrons under her command. "Lilac and Gold, form up around the fleet."
As she watched the fleet movements play out on the tactical display, things still did not make much sense… the five vessels she had seen emerge from the station shortly before all the escape pods had been launched were definitely heading in the direction of her fleet, which made sense, for the three combat vessels, but seemed absolutely ludicrous for the shuttle and the cargo-hauler. Also, why were they making such a long detour to avoid… with that particular thought, the coin dropped.
The strictly secret commando op, her fleet being ordered to pull away the enemy ships, even the escape pods. Obviously, whoever led these commandoes was planning to blow up the station, but also unwilling to kill everyone on board; it was a sentiment Vuli could empathise with.
"Captain, we're being hailed by the Raider corvette," the frigate's comms officer informed her. "Patching them through… now."
"Hello Captain, thanks for the help," a surprisingly young-sounding voice came through the connection. "Your fleet can disengage now, we'll be ready to jump in 30 seconds."
"Acknowledged …"
"Captain Potter," the man replied. "See you at the rally point."
Amused with the audacity of the entire action, Vuli turned to her command console and gave her last orders for this particular battle.
"All ships, disengage and jump to hyperspeed."
OOOOOOOO
"Sensors indicate all the escape pods have been launched, Captain," the Rebel officer manning one of the stations on the bridge of the Raider corvette informed.
"Thank you," Harry replied, throwing a glance to the soldier manning the comms station. "Contact the teams on the different ships, check if they have everyone secured, then tell Hound and his team to detonate their charges."
"Aye, Captain," the soldier responded.
Harry watched his orders being followed, deeply in thought. What he had told Leia rang true: he was not ready to join the Rebellion proper, and did not think most of his crew was, either. Yet, having the backing of an organisation like this, intelligence and preparation, as well as people willing to work and fight with him, felt undeniably satisfying. That was especially true after all the years where, at the most, his back-up had been Hermione and Ron, and an overly secretive and scheming Dumbledore.
"All troops report as complete, prisoners are secured," the comms officer informed him. "Should I contact troop 4 now?"
"Yes, please," Harry answered. "They placed those charges, they should have the honours of bringing this whole thing to an end."
Behind him, someone snorted, and loudly at that. "Hey boss," Mercer greeted. "Where was that attitude when you blew up those tractor beams after Arden and me had placed the charges?"
Had his tone not betrayed the jovial nature of the comment, the beaming, teasing grin certainly would have. It was a strange sight when it was combined with the dour Imperial uniforms they were still wearing.
"My attitude concerning command has evolved," Harry snarked back. "And who would be dumb enough to give you a button that blows something up, anyway?"
"True," the older man allowed jovially. "And giving it to Arden would be even more disastrous, don't you think?"
An indignant noise could be heard from the ready room bordering the bridge. "I heard that, Mercer," the witch's voice wafted through the open door that divided the two rooms.
Ignoring the benignly bickering pair, Harry turned his attention to the two other members of his crew, who had by now changed out of their armour and stood there, only wearing the underlying body glove.
"You two alright?" he asked Javoc and Corsek, the two men leaning against the bulkhead frame to the back of the bridge. Harry felt a bit bad for not having made an effort to get to know them since they had joined his crew, and he now vowed to correct that mistake.
"Sure, boss," Javoc replied, obviously in quite good spirits. "Would be perfect if I could get myself out of this damn thing, and something in my stomach."
The young captain chuckled a little; yes, he had to admit that he, too, was a bit peckish after the exhilaration of infiltrating an enemy installation. Yet, he would have to fulfil his duty, first.
"How long until we can jump out of the system?" He directed the question to the room in general, since he had no idea who would be able to answer him. The beeping of an astromech droid followed his question in quick succession, yet it was hardly able to inform Harry of anything.
"20 seconds, sir," the officer at the comms console translated, using the machine translator embedded inside his workstation. "We've had to stay outside the weapons range of the enemy. By the way, Hound says we should 'watch the fireworks'."
The gathered personnel had just their attention to the port windows, when the formerly pristine Imperial station was engulfed by a huge fireball. Automatically, the viewports on the bridge darkened to protect the occupants from too extreme an exposure to the intense light, but by then, an afterimage had already burned itself into Harry's field of view with the power of a sun, if but for a moment.
He continued watching their progress, as first the nimble light cruiser, then the shuttle, then the frigate and finally, just before his own new ship reached the edge of Keldooine's gravity-well, the transport they had been staying behind to protect, left the system for hyperspace. With the Rebel fleet long gone, as well, it was Captain Potter's new ship that was to jump out last.
"Well then, little droid," he said to the black astromech that had been preparing their jump. "I suggest you take us out of here.
Almost immediately, the viewports were filled with star lines that were quickly replaced by the already familiar, tunnel-like appearance of hyperspace.
OOOOOOOO
"So, and I swear this is true; we had just managed to get away from that teacher when Corsek here, for whatever reason, decides we're not in big-enough trouble already," Javoc narrated vividly as Harry's crew was sitting around a table in the mess-hall of the corvette they had just 'procured'. "So, instead of being happy that harpy had not seen us, he turns around, hides behind a locker and pulls out our last packet of itching powder. We spent an entire week in detention after that."
From time to time, hearing about parallels between the two realities he had lived in was a nice thing for Harry, and he enjoyed getting to know the two former Imperials better.
"Why did you do that?" the wizard asked the normally stoic Corsek; even as a teen, he could hardly imagine the man now before him being that impulsive.
"She was mean to my brother the day before," he finally admitted. "And my mother had made me promise to look out for him. So, I did."
Hearing that particular admission, Javoc looked quite stunned. "We got into detention because mom told you to look out for me?"
"Yeah," Corsek replied simply, and without any further comment.
For a while, the three of them ate in silence, until another question he had been dying to ask the two crossed his mind once again.
"Hey, why did you two join the Empire in the first place?" he ventured, already preparing himself for a rebuttal; it was quite a personal question, after all. "If you're willing to tell, me, of course."
"Yeah, you're our captain and we're fighting against the Empire," Corsek commented evenly. "You need to know, so you can rely on your people."
Javoc nodded, although he looked quite sad doing it. "In one word? Order," the former technician finally admitted. "I'm sure you've wondered why Corsek and I have different surnames, even as brothers."
"It has crossed my mind," Harry conceded.
"I was adopted by Corsek's parents, although by now I call them my parents, too, after my birth parents were killed in a Separatist bombing," he explained, much of the usual laid-back nature gone with the easy topics. "The two of us were already friends back then, so they took me in. When I was younger, and through the eyes of propaganda, the Empire seemed like a bastion of order against the kind of chaos that had taken my birth parents from me, so the two of us wanted to help with that mission."
Harry nodded; he could relate to the feeling.
"Only problem was," Corsek took over the story sombrely, "absolute security can only be achieved by a complete lack of freedom, and the Empire does not tolerate anyone unwilling to give up their freedom. So, when we were eventually ordered to participate in destroying villages, basically doing what the Separatists had done to the Perdiv family, we had to get out."
It was easy to see the utter disappointment both men had concerning the Empire, and in a way, Harry thought people like these would make some of the most ardent enemies of its rule; people that had offered up part of their humanity (thankfully, he did not have to think about a fitting word for aliens, given that the Empire was also quite anti-alien) to serve its supposed ideal and now felt betrayed by a government that had lied to and used them.
Almost as if to shake the dour mood that had settled over the group at the story of his adoption into the Betsby household, Javoc shook himself a little, before throwing a wry glance at his two companions.
"We should be at the rally-point soon, boss," the taller of the two brothers commented. "How about, after you've spoken to the commander of that fleet, we check out that dropship Mercer got for us?"
OOOOOOOO
Captain Vuli was sitting in her command chair, closely watching the tactical map for any approaching contacts, be they Imperial, Hutt or Alliance. Her flotilla had left the Keldooine system a good deal before Potter's small host of stolen ships (a good deal being a few minutes, but in battle, a second could make a huge difference). She was not worried about the people on these ships, there was hardly anything left around Keldooine that would have been able to harm them, but she was looking forward to learning more about the man who had obviously led the daring raid.
"Approaching contacts," the sensor officer announced. "Imperial signatures, but the transponder codes match the ships stolen during the battle at Keldooine."
The Mon Cala captain leaned forward eagerly to get a good look at the ships on the visual scanners; it was really more of a hodgepodge of different vessels, the most important of which probably was the 700 m long Imperial transport, if just for the cargo it was bound to carry. Still, another two corvette-type ships and a frigate were nothing to sniff at, either. As far as the shuttle was concerned, Vuli did not think it was a new acquisition, rather that it had been that shuttle that had gotten the spec-ops team onto the station.
"Incoming visual communication," the communications officer informed her, and the captain eagerly accepted the call.
The image that materialised on the view-screen was that of a surprisingly young man, still wearing the white uniform of an ISB colonel (that he was way too young to be wearing due to actually having achieved that rank). He had black hair, green eyes and an almost invisibly thin scar criss-crossing his forehead.
"Hello, Captain," the young man greeted her with a smile that was deeply out of place on anyone wearing that uniform, as far as Vuli was concerned. "It is nice to meet you in somewhat less hectic circumstances."
"You as well, Captain Potter," the Mon Cala replied friendlily. "I assume your operation was successful?"
"Resoundingly so," he replied, hints of a hard-to-place accent in his speech; he sounded like a core-worlder, but there was something off. "How did the fleet fare? Any losses?"
Vuli nodded sadly in reply. "We lost one of the X-wings to a pursuing Tartan cruiser and two of the Y-wings to lucky turbolaser hits from that destroyer. Could have been far worse if the station had been able to launch its fighters."
Despite her added comment about the station's fighters Vuli could see that even the three lost pilots would be on the young man's conscious for a while. She herself had been through such a crucial moment in her development as a military commander, too, and mastering it was toeing the line between caring for the people under one's command and putting the mission first.
Too much of the former would leave you wrecked with indecision, more often than not ending up with losing the entire command, anyway, while too much of a latter invariably cost you already-scarce resources and the loyalty of your crew. It was the balance between using the X-wings as bait and sending the Y-wings in for a third torpedo-run at the struck destroyer, right into the waiting maws of the Tartan cruisers. How that young commander handled this tightrope would ultimately decide his future.
"Do not fret," she therefore lightly chastised the young man. "This was a victory! We went in with inferior forces and you holding off any fighter reinforcements let us escape mostly unscathed. Every single one of these men and women knew what they were getting themselves into, and they went willingly. Surely you would not deny them the right to fight for what they think is right?"
Captain Potter audibly cleared his throat. "No, of course not," he finally replied. "Thank you, Captain Vuli. You are released from your duty and I will take these ships to the base. Potter out."
OOOOOOOO
"Boss, are you okay?" Mercer asked after he had been watching Harry stare at the empty view-screen for an entire minute. The young man shook himself out of his stupor.
"Yes, Mercer, thank you," Harry reassured his friend. "Just something the captain said. I had not thought about it like that before."
Unwilling to debate the issue further, the captain turned his steps toward the hangar/vehicle bay. There he did indeed find the squat, grey form of the Imperial dropship Mercer had stolen from the station's hangar.
"It's an old Republic Low Altitude Assault Transport/infantry," the older man informed his captain. "No idea why they were phased out really, they were excellent ships. The garrison here probably managed to keep one for themselves, because the troops really liked these things. Not a lot of armour, but they pack one hell of a punch."
Looking at the craft Harry found that easy to believe. There was a multitude of turrets dotted around the unsettlingly flimsy-looking hull, the open doors revealing how thin the border to the vacuum of space really was when one was inside the dropship.
"Don't worry, Boss," Mercer half-jokingly assured him, probably after noticing Harry's doubtful looks at the vessel's hull. "They've got atmospheric shielding, so they can drop from orbit. Engines aren't strong enough for the trip back up, though, so we'll have to pick it back up in-atmosphere. They can even hold some speeder-bikes."
"We're going to have to redesign it, though," the young captain commented. "This Imperial grey is rather… drab, don't you think?"
That idea brought a veritably face-splitting smile onto Mercer's face. "Way ahead of you, Boss," he replied and pulled out a datapad showing renderings of the Morningstar and their new corvette, as well as the dropship they were currently looking at.
"I was thinking that we had to make these look less like they came directly from an Imperial production line, so I was already working on something while we were on the way to our little shopping trip," Mercer announced enthusiastically, holding the pad out for Harry to take a look.
The first image showed the Morningstar, or at the very least a ship just like her; the original colour hat been replaced by jet-black, while certain lines on the ship were accentuated by gold. Nothing overly ostentatious, just a small touch of light along the dark hull. The stabiliser-wings on both sides held small representations of the 'crest' Harry had already seen in the designs for the armour he had transfigured: a heptagon with the stylised curve of a planet as seen from orbit, a four-pointed star floating above.
"Why is everything you design black?" he asked the enthusiastic designer of the colour schemes in his hand.
"Why because it goes with everything," said designer joked, before turning serious once again. "Psychological warfare, just like that dagger-shape, and the stormtrooper helmets. Plus, for a crew trying to track you with visual scanners, there's few things more annoying than a ship that is as black as the space behind it."
With an understanding nod, and somewhat mollified by the tasteful addition of the golden lines, Harry flipped the page to take a look at what had been jutted down for the corvette.
"Why are there two designs?" the captain inquired, flipping back and forth between the two sets of images. "The only difference I see is that one of them is missing the solar panels."
"Ah, yes," Mercer enthused. "Which one of these we use will depend on a few experiments I would like you to do with your abilities. Firstly, I believe you have the ability to create mass out of nothing, right?"
"Wouldn't say nothing, it takes a serious amount of energy, and channelling too much of that will leave you really tired."
"Well, do these runes of yours take energy to work, too?" the older man questioned, looking eager and anticipatory.
"Of course, they draw from the ambient…" Harry fell silent for a second as a plan began forming in his head that he was sure mirrored the one in Mercer's. "They draw from the ambient magical energy around them. I'd noticed that it is very strong in this reality. You want me to make a rune-based multiplication spell to provide us with fuel, making the solar panels redundant."
"Thereby giving the turrets on the top-deck a larger field of view" Mercer finished. "So, think you can do it?"
Harry had already drifted off by that point though, theorising about possible ways to make this work.
"Hey, Boss," Mercer cuffed him on his upper arm. "Think you can do it?"
"Oh, sorry," the captain apologised. "I was already drifting off. Yes, I can do it. A friend of mine at school had a drinking bottle just like that; as long as a tiny bit of water was still inside, it would always fill back up. Oh, and before you go, can you push over that crate?"
Already on his way to the heavy box the man turned around once more. "What do you want an empty cargo-crate for?"