Jane Shepard immediately took command, patched everyone into the tactical network, and prepared for the fight of a lifetime.
Jane and Harry were separated from the rest of the group as more and more shuttles got through the Alliance blockade. With a roaring whine, a single shuttle crashed violently. Debris ricocheted wildly, hitting some of the defenders rushing to reinforce the outnumbered marines.
Harry and Jane kept running, even when Harry's group of civilians stopped in shock. Many of the civilians were inexperienced; never having been in combat before, a few of them turned and ran. The rest remained relatively calm, and began to fight their way to the city's orbital bombardment shelter. They did not encounter much resistance; hostile forces had not yet breached the scattered line of hastily-built defenses.
Jane and Harry encountered much more resistance. Their primary target was the spaceport: the hostile batarian forces had immediately turned it into a staging area, mindful of the still-silent anti-air guns around the facility. They had hacked into the Alliance IFF network, it seemed, and Jane, the officer coordinating Illyria's ragged defence force, had decided to shut off power to the guns rather than risk them being used against the troops under her command.
The pair wound up fighting a ragged, desperate force of batarians and some turians at least four-hundred strong. Biotics and bullets flew, and the force of batarians diminished slowly.
Jane was an excellent commander, and was ordering around a few isolated groups of Marines to great effect. She and Harry tore through the batarians, in a deadly spiral of biotics, gunfire, and explosions, leaving chaos and rubble in their wake. When the two had finally reached the spaceport, Harry had an idea. He smiled viciously, and quickly radioed Jane, asking her to wait for a moment. Then he stealthily slaved the controls of each one of the fifty-two shuttles to his omni-tool. Grinning, he told Jane, "Now designate them as friendlies."
"Are you crazy? Why?" She responded. Snickered Harry,
"I don't really want the alliance navy blowing up my improvised ground-to-orbit weapons, Miss Shepard. These shuttles are loaded with enough explosives to wipe this city off the map, if I remember heavy ordnance training correctly. It's definitely been a while, but I can recognize those C-14 canisters from a mile away. It seems that each shuttle was packed with a combination of explosives and personnel; I guess these raiders didn't want to fail their mission because they put all their explosives in one shuttle. So here's what we'll do. I'm going to hook up the detonators for all of the explosives to my omni-tool. Then, we're going to activate the auto-pilot.
The batarian ships will let them fly back into shuttle-bays and launch tubes. I'll wait until all of the shuttles are broadcasting a standby signal. Then I'll detonate the C-14. I can overload their Eezo cores via my omni-tool as well, which will make an even bigger explosion."
Jane's eyes widened. She designated the shuttles as friendly, going over what Harry had said. With a word, Harry activated the autopilot. Each shuttle took off, and adopted a heading approaching the nearest undamaged batarian ships. A few minutes later, the last of a series of blinking lights on Harry's omni-tool changed color and read, 'Standing By". Harry waited a few seconds, counting down from five with almost childish glee. With exaggerated movements and a lot of fanfare, Harry pushed a big red button on his omni-tool. Confused Alliance Navy chatter was interrupted by Jane Shepard on the ground-to-navy alert channel, saying triumphantly,
"Shepard to Alliance Navy, Potter and I just took out fifty-something ships for you. We slaved shuttle controls to an omni-tool, loaded each shuttle with explosives, and overloaded their eezo cores when they docked with hostile ships. Fly safe." Incredulous chatter from pilots and communications officers filled the channel, before a voice silenced them. The Fleet Admiral calmly stated,
"This is Admiral Kastanie Drescher, of the Second Fleet. I'd like whoever just announced that- Shepard and Potter? You're both getting commended." Jane looked at Harry, eyes opened in surprise. He looked at her with a smirk.
"Well, exceptional service is usually valued by commanding officers." Harry quipped at her. "Now let's keep on going. We have more batarians to take care of."
Suddenly, over the local radio, one of the marine groups reported that the desperate batarians were trying to break into the lightly defended orbital bombardment shelter, to take almost the city's entire population hostage. Apparently most of the city had headed into the shelter as soon as the fighting had started. However, the shelter was, astonishingly, nearly defenseless.
The civilians Harry had trained during his free time were holding the blast doors for now, but their numbers were dropping alarmingly quickly. With a muffled curse and a few seconds spent thinking, Harry told Jane, voice low, and fast,
"Let's fight through the left flank over here to get to the shelter. They're surrounded right now, but I can put up a barrier that can hold against enough fire for us to sprint to the barricade. We'll have to radio that we're friendly, but that can wait. We have to go. Now."
The pair made very good time through the streets, taking out wayward raiders as they went.
When they finally made it to the batarian flank, Harry didn't even stop. He sprinted right up to the shoddy batarian barricades, pistol and omni-blade in hand, and leaped over the top. After a brief struggle, Harry had plunged his knife into one batarian's chest before his companions even noticed his presence. He grabbed something from the fallen batarian, wrestled with it for half a second, then held the trigger down and unloaded automatic shotgun fire into any and all hostiles unfortunate enough to be nearby. Batarians dropped like flies, as Harry closed the distance between them with his new toy.
Jane stopped, open-mouthed, watching him mow through his enemies. When the weapon ran dry, Harry threw it, hitting the arm of a batarian trying to throw a grenade. A second later, the grenade went off, taking out another batarian, desperately trying to bring his gun to bear.
Harry seemed to know where every single blow was coming from, and how best to block, redirect, or take it. As she watched, Harry grabbed the barrel of a batarian's shotgun, pulled it forward, so that it pointed over his shoulder. The batarian finger in the trigger guard was shoved against the trigger, and a turian standing behind Harry took the blast to the face.
Harry's other hand snaked out, lightning fast, and his omni-blade ignited, unfolding inside a slaver's faceplate. Harry swung around, eviscerating another mercenary with his omni-blade, while his other hand fired a shockwave that vaporized a vorcha with a flamethrower. And then, Harry stopped. There were no more combatants within forty feet of him.
"This is our chance! Let's get behind those friendly barricades as fast as we can! Stay ahead of me!" Harry yelled to Jane.
Jane started sprinting towards the Alliance barricade surrounding the shelter's primary blast door. As she ran, she saw a gunship make a pass at her. She knew that all she could do was to keep running and pray. She watched the gunship fly towards he, close to the ground, and knew that its next few shots could not miss. But then, as the vehicle's guns spun up and started firing, Jane felt a feeling of safety as a spherical baby-blue transparent barrier materialized, stopping a few seconds worth of bullets from the gunship's anti-infantry cannons.
Jane kept running, eyes on the ground. She needed to get to cover before the craft made another pass and started firing again. She looked up, just in time to see a ball of blue force impact the gunship, tearing through its armor with a hissing screeching noise. One of the craft's engines sputtered, and the vehicle fell from the sky. A few seconds later, it crashed into the ground and was engulfed in a spectacular explosion.
Jane looked over her shoulder, to see Harry, arm outstretched. He waved at her, and kept running to the barriers. Jane followed, dazed. The two vaulted over the barricades, and relaxed in friendly territory.
As Jane watched, Harry pulled a stripped-down sniper rifle from his back. It appeared to have some personal enhancements, and collapsed to be very small, about the size of an SMG.
Harry sighted in on a target. With a muted *Crack*, he fired, then held his fist up, triumphant. A thunderous *Boom* rent the air. Harry kept firing, one shot after another.
Many of his shots hit something important, and caused chaos within the batarian ranks. A batarian coordinating the forces around him. The top of a rocket launcher, tip just sticking out above the batarian barricade. The head of a turian in an armoured exo-suit. A brick of C-14 fallen off of the top of a small wall that was serving as cover for some batarians.
Harry fucking loved supersensory charms. He'd been using one combined with an alert ward and some occlumency this entire fight, to incredible effect. He knew it would likely make him appear supernaturally skilled, and raise many questions that he couldn't safely answer, but knowing where every single attack was coming from, and speeding up his mind enough to figure out how to deal with it safely was impossibly useful. Though he could sure live without the massive headache he knew he'd have for the next week.
Jane fired as well, rapidly taking out closer threats. A batarian rushing the barricade, a turian ducking out of cover to throw a grenade, and a vorcha trying to hide behind a lamp-post all fell before her sights.
Seconds later, the last defender other than the pair fell, hit in the forehead with an errant piece of shrapnel. Harry looked at Jane, and bowed his head. He walked over to her, and held out his hand.
"If this is it for us, then I'd like to say that it was a good fight, for a noble cause. If either one of us dies today, and if there is any heaven above that won't stop me at the door, then come meet me at the bar. Drinks are on me."
Jane took his hand, shaking it solemnly. "Who's like us?"
"Damn few!" a grinning Harry responded.
"And they're all dead!" The pair recited together.
"Let's go to work." Jane stated, a smirk adorning her face.
The two of them held the small barricade for two hours, with no possibility of reinforcements, until the entire hostile group, now whittled down to some seventy-odd batarians and a few turians, charged the barricade en masse. Jane watched Harry lower his head for a second. Then he raised it, and smiled. He turned to her, and in a conversational tone, stated,
"Drinks are on me, remember? On three?"
Jane nodded. On three, the pair burst out of cover in dual whirlwinds of biotic energy. The sounds of gunfire repeated, over and over, as both forces blasted away at each other. Harry and Jane became separated during the fighting, but they were always at the center of the melee.
Jane was a source of of biotic energy almost too bright to look at. Singularities, detonations, and warps split the air. Accurate, deadly pistol shots were occasionally heard, cutting down hostiles left and right. When she was not firing biotics at beleaguered opponents, or blasting them away with gunfire or grenades, she was in knife-fight range with an omni-tool, stabbing away gleefully. Jane Shepard was a fighter who would live on in the tales of the Alliance Marines.
If Jane was a hero about whom tales would be told, Harry was a legend. He fired shining blue shockwaves and singularities, detonating biotic fields in blue blasts of hissing chaotic energy. With a sword-length omni-blade on one arm, and a constant stream of biotics from the other, Harry slashed and blasted his way through the crowds of hostiles.
He tried to lead the group of hostiles away from the shelter, casting singularities strategically, in order to corral the batarian force away from the building's battered and dented blast doors.
Jane vaporized the last batarian attacking her, then ran to the shelter's entrance just in time to stop a few turians trying to breach the shelter. She Pulled one, then detonated him with a throw, shot one repeatedly in the chest, and sliced the last from shoulder to thigh with her omni-blade. She then started firing into the brawl that surrounded Harry.
The remaining hostiles rushed after him, as he darted sideways. Suddenly, a whining hum rent the air. Jane froze. She knew that sound. That was the noise an M-5 Cain made while charging up. She looked around, head spinning wildly, until she spotted the weapon. A blur of yellow painted-gunmetal glowed in Harry's hands.
Jane looked on in disbelief. Harry grasped an exo-suited batarian, using him and his armor as a shield. The glowing weapon in Harry's hands let out a few warning beeps, and launched a small projectile. Jane clenched her fists and closed her eyes, as a massive explosion hid Harry from her view. A mushroom cloud slowly dissipated, as the dust cleared.
Jane ran into the crater, desperately hoping, against all logic, that Harry had survived the blast. She stepped over rubble and viscera, until she saw the charred remains of the exo-suit Harry had used as cover.
Cautiously, she grasped one of the armoured limbs of the contraption, and heaved it up off the ground. She pushed it to the side, revealing a battle-damaged set of armor that set her heart at ease. She could see the chestpiece of Harry's armor moving up and down as he breathed in and out. He coughed a little, and spoke.
"Hey, could I get a hand up?"
Jane laughed. She couldn't help it.
She radioed her reinforcements, voice still tinged with humor,
"Hey, cavalry? Looks like you'll be arriving late. We finished off the remaining group attacking the shelter without you." Taking a swig of water, Harry walked over to Jane. He collapsed onto a pile of rubble next to her, and took her offered water bottle to replace his, lost in the fighting.
It was over.
Jane and Harry sat quietly, waiting for a shuttle. Slowly, civilians began stepping out of the shelter, as news traveled. The mood was solemn, as citizens gazed around at the devastated city block. The crater caused by Harry's misadventure with a Cain had a small crowd around it, and people were staring with wide eyes and open mouths at the remains of the barricades, cracked concrete, and at the hundreds upon hundreds of bullet holes in every visible surface.
The pair conversed quietly in low, murmured tones, as the city's inhabitants shot glances at them. It seemed that the security cameras had been fully functional, meaning that those inside the bunker had seen the fight. None of the civilians wanted to be the first to greet the two individuals who had held off such a force.
Eventually, Jane asked quietly, "Are you a member of the ICT program?"
"No. Well, as you know, I taught at the N program, but I'm not an N-program member. How does someone gain admittance to the ICT program?" Harry replied, curiously.
"Well, first you have to get noticed by N7 scouts. They tend to see potential very well. I'm really surprised that you didn't get invited to the Villa before." Jane chuckled. "I mean, you were good enough to teach there. And I've never seen anyone fight like you can. You're a great engineer, if the speed with which you hacked those shuttles is anything to go by, and your biotics have to be the most powerful in the alliance. I've never seen anyone do anything close to what you can do. Hell, I've never even seen some of the attacks you do." Jane said, somewhat confused. Here was this… She didn't know what he was. Some sort of super-soldier?
She had idolized him, to some degree, ever since he had saved Mindoir almost singlehandedly. Then he had been a mentor when she trained under him in the ICT program, or 'N-school'. He had helped her unlock vast biotic potential, showing her how to get many different results from biotic attacks. And now, here she was, with a higher rank than him, and (supposedly) more advanced training than him. Yet here was Harry Potter, standing tall, without any special training or advantages that she knew of. He was confusing.
He was probably the best fighter she had ever seen, yet he was nowhere special. Not in some highly-classified spec-ops squad she wasn't cleared to know about, or infiltrating heavily-secured Council operations. Instead, he was a biotics instructor. Jane vowed to herself to get to know this enigma a bit better.
Thirty minutes later, the pair were chuckling together, telling stories about the battle and past events, and roasting some marshmallows over a fire made from a few pieces of destroyed furniture. Then their reinforcements arrived. The officer in charge of the company looked at the scene with awe. Other soldiers combed the rubble, looking for survivors to finish off.
Jane laughed, telling Harry how one batarian had accidentally raked his still firing gun across his allies, gutting two with friendly fire. Harry smiled, and told her about a turian who had managed to cut his own right arm off with his omni-blade- which had been on his right wrist.
Then the press arrived en masse.
Harry and Jane were separated as reporters rushed in, trying to get an interview with one or both of the 'Lions of Elysium'. Both Harry and Jane knew that Alliance Intelligence would have kittens if they didn't debrief before giving any interviews to the press, so they both carefully pushed through the crowds, and managed to sequester themselves in the Alliance barracks near the central square of Illyria. They split up, heading to separate debriefing rooms, and spent a few tiring hours answering questions. Eventually, a press conference was held. Jane ended up getting a Star of Terra. Harry got a pretty speech, a 'Certificate of Honor,' and a monetary reward, as he already had a Star of Terra.
After that, they shook hands, and parted ways. Harry was given another month of shore leave, and was then assigned to an expeditionary force looking for a lost colonization team on Akuze. Jane was told to 'take some time off' and to prepare herself for a difficult mission, after her shore leave.
Harry lowered a few of his notice-me-not wards, and a day later, started seeing commendations from officers he had served under previously. He also received an invitation to join the ICT program school at the Vila de Militar, in Rio de Janeiro after his present assignment finished. Harry considered it briefly, and then sent a politely worded acceptance letter.
….
David Anderson was worried. There had been no communication from the team deployed to Akuze for five days. Fifty Marines did not just 'go silent' for one hundred and twenty hours. It couldn't be a malfunction, as there were five certified engineers in that squad, and they had enough omni-gel between them to build a small shuttle, or a large transmitter, if necessary. Anderson suspected enemy action. He had ordered the crew of the SSV Tokyo to proceed at maximum drive to Akuze more than twelve hours ago, and was just reaching orbit.
Anderson prepared a ground team, and sent them off to the last known position of the fifty-man platoon. He watched them through helmet-cameras, worry increasing. There had been no contact with the platoon so far.
The shuttle containing the ground team flew over the site, cameras catching every detail. Anderson stared, eyes wide. The ground was pockmarked with craters, made from what must have been anti-armor grenades. What had those men needed to kill that required them to flashforge anti-armor grenades? Anderson wondered, incredulous. Then Anderson saw what looked to be five massive… worm-things. They appeared to be at least sixty feet long. Two were missing their heads, one was missing its lower half, one was split longways down the middle, and one was clearly in pieces, chunks splattered for thirty feet all around the mangled corpse. And in the middle of it all stood a hastily erected prefab colony building, with an airlock door, and large picture windows.
The ground team landed outside the prefab, walking slowly to the airlock. As they approached the door, a recorded message played.
"Hello. If you're hearing this, then you have triggered a proximity alarm that basically serves as my doorbell. Please hold. I'll likely be out in a few minutes, depending on what I'm actually doing. The creatures on the ground are called thresher maws; at least that's the best translation I could come up with. I may be fluent in asari, but damn, theirs is a complex language, so- I'm babbling. I'm the last of the fifty-man platoon sent here. I helped kill most of those Maws myself. Almost all of the men were killed the first night by a Maw popping up out of the floor in the middle of the barracks, while we were asleep. The rest of us pooled our Omni-gel, and started making anti-tank grenades. I managed to string multiple together, so that they'd all go off at once. That's how two of the Maws died. Then one of them ate the guy holding the most grenades. The brave bastard had the presence of mind to pull the pin, and blasted the thresher into bits. Then we couldn't get the last Maw to eat the grenades, so the only other guy grabbed a bunch of them, rigged them to go off when his heartbeat stopped, and ran. Magnificent bastard's probably feasting in heaven. That left one for me, alone. My helmet's camera probably caught it all, but I modified my omni-blade so that it was ten feet long, hooked it up to a crashed shuttle's eezo core, and killed a fucking Thresher Maw with a goddamn omni-sword. From there it-"
The voice fizzled out. The airlock hissed and cycled, then opened, slowly. A half-dressed man stepped out of the door, blearily putting on a shirt. He wiped his face, and looked up.
"Hi. Are you Alliance marines?" A few of the men nodded, indicated by the camera's bobbing motion. "I'm Harry Potter. I'm all that's left. Everyone else is in a body bag in a refrigerator room. Couldn't really do anything else. Can I please get off of this fucking rock?"
Anderson radioed the team leader,
"Get him to the shuttle. We'll get him to the ship, and then examine more thoroughly. These things could provide some tools for the R & D boys."
The ground team leader relayed that, and the man, Harry, sighed gratefully. He asked if he could grab some belongings before leaving. The ground team allowed it, but were surprised when Harry brought only a small duffle bag. When prompted, Harry told them that most of his belongings were lost when the barracks was attacked. Strangely enough, if one of the soldiers had looked at the bag more closely, they may have seen that it was larger on the inside.
After being debriefed, Harry retreated into his quarters. He was going to need therapy. Doing some research, Harry figured that since N7 training usually occurred after a soldier did something to prove his capability, therapy was sometimes required. The Villa was actually a very productive place for therapy, as attendees could take out feelings in productive ways, be that shooting things, punching things, or blowing things to kingdom come.
Harry blew through N-Training in a year, shattering almost every record, and receiving commendations left and right. Then he resigned his commission, receiving an honorable discharge, and left, leaving only an extranet address to allow people to contact him.
….
During the events of the last year, Alliance intel had suggested that Harry may have gone to Anhur, to fight against the batarian slavers vying to keep their slaves. Admittedly, the only possible evidence of his presence on Anhur was a few reports that there was an incredibly powerful human biotic by the name of 'Harry' leading a ragtag force of abolitionist guerilla forces, Eclipse Mercenaries, and idealists hired to fight the pro-slavery forces trying to retain control of Anhur.
The best guesses of Alliance experts had Harry heading to Omega, and putting the fear of God into a detachment of Blue Suns trying to trade slaves to the collectors. Only one thing was certain: Harry Potter was a dreadnaught-sized loose cannon.
Alliance intelligence was worried. Harry Potter was a dangerous person. Even though he had shown nothing but loyalty to the goals of the Alliance, he would be an incredible operative for any organization to take his interest and/or loyalty. And, apparently, he was somehow already affiliated with the mercenary group 'Mortis Solutions'. They were an almost mythical group, with a reputation for doing the impossible. Alliance intelligence had even been on a standing mission to approach any members of the group to attempt to make contact, if possible. However, so far the only known member was Harry Potter, one of the best N7 soldiers around. He had even left an extranet site to allow anyone to contact him, so eventually, when Alliance intel felt that the only possible outcomes of contact were beneficial, a surprised Harry received an email.
Dear Mr. Potter,
We at the Alliance Intelligence Office have watched the progress of the mercenary group 'Mortis Solutions' with great interest. If at all possible, we would be grateful to have a way to contact the leader of the group, in case we have need of a team that can do the impossible. We have a significant fund used to pay for more sensitive operations. Hopefully we can count on your organization for discretion, excellence and reliability.
-Alliance Intelligence
Harry knew exactly why he was receiving this email. The reputation of his mercenary organization had skyrocketed over the last few months. It was widely believed that he had been responsible for stealing every single thing of value from Donovan Hock's estate in a single night, and returning most to the previous owners. Alliance intelligence had been stumped when the entirety of the stolen Statue of Liberty had showed up mid-jump attached to the bridge of the Alliance dreadnought 'Liberty' with the Deathly Hallows sigil burned into its forehead. Harry had waited for the dreadnaught to head to a relay, then used his faster Portkey Drive to catch up, and maneuver around at faster-than-light speeds. He had then used a powerful focused inferno charm to weld the statue right in front the bridge. Alliance intel was still stumped.
Bekenstein officials had been flabbergasted when a significant number of important mercenaries showed up bound, with video evidence of their crimes stuck to their foreheads immediately following the sacking of the Hock estate. Alliance intelligence officers were left simultaneously gleeful at their sudden windfall, and confused as hell.
Harry decided to reply to their entreaties. He sent an email back, stating,
Dear Alliance Intel,
My name is Harry Potter. I will be your point of contact with the mercenary group known as Mortis Solutions. The following is a message from our leader.
Hello, Alliance intel. I lead Mortis Solutions. According to your own records, you want to hire us on a trial basis, and then keep my organization on a retainer because we do the impossible on a regular basis. However, we operate on a platform of ethics that will not allow us to perform some operations. You may send contracts for actions you wish to see performed. My group and I will review them, and decide to take the contract, or leave it. Obviously payment of some sort will be required. You may also pass information to us, if you so desire. Any contracts will be discussed with utmost secrecy, and any operations may be refused.
You have been warned.
-Operative Thestral
He had increased the size of his fleets by massive amounts. He had continued the automated mining, this time moving on to other planets, moons, and asteroid belts across the galaxy. He now had more than fifty massive shipyards online, spread across the galaxy, not even counting shipyards built into ships, producing smaller vehicles filled with mining equipment. However, Harry's shipyards were still in a multiplication phase. He had fifteen shipyards constantly producing dreadnaughts at an astounding rate of around one per three months, five working on more super-capital ships at a rate of one per six months, and ten building destroyers, cruisers, and frigates, multiple at a time.
Ten more around Klendagon were building more shuttles, and more mining equipment, and sending them wherever they were needed. Ten more were spread across the universe in assorted hidden places, building more shipyards, and launching them wherever they could best utilize the massive harvests of minerals gathered by massive flights of thousands of mining shuttles. The fifty-first through fifty-eighth shipyards were building a special project that Harry had designed: a massive shipyard that would be able to produce massive quantities of ships with incredible speed.
Harry had also fixed the issue with absorbing millennia of memories. He could now hold the knowledge in reserve, only dipping into the pool of knowledge for specific things, while his subconscious sorted out what was valuable from what was not.
Harry had been very productive with his time.
Ten months later, shipyards fifty-one through fifty-eight had finished production. Harry's special project was finished: The Hephaestus shipyard had come online. It was a one-hundred-ten-kilometer mobile shipyard, built to create vast engines of destruction. Sleek lines and weapon mounts studded the entire thirty-kilometer diameter of the mobile station. The word 'Hephaestus' was emblazoned on the side, individual letters taller than even the largest Council dreadnoughts. The massive craft could build ten supercarriers in four months; fifty dreadnoughts in three, and uncountable amounts of destroyers, cruisers, frigates and corvettes. However, Harry was using it to create more of itself. He predicted that with the aid of the eight shipyards that had aided its construction, the Hephaestus would have a twin in eight more months. Then he would use those to produce more, until the count of Hephaestus-class shipyards reached four, around the year 2180.
Late in December of 2178, Jane Shepard called him up, using the extranet address that he left to facilitate contact. She half-expected to get no answer: a busy signal, or a voicemail. Instead, she almost instantly heard the other end of the line pick up. A familiar voice questioned:
"Jane? Is that you?"
She could have cried. "Thank God you picked up. I wanted to talk to you. I have a mission, and- It's going to be bad. Bad, as in I don't know if I'll be coming back. I wanted to speak with you before the mission. I wanted to know how you're doing before I go off and get- You were the closest thing I had to a friend after almost everyone I knew died on Elysium. I tried to call you, after Akuze, but you were at the Villa, and then I couldn't, because of some stupid mission that took too damned long, and then I get assigned to this fucking suicide mission!" Jane's vision blurred with tears. She wiped her face, angrily.
"Are you leading the mission to take Torfan?" Harry's calm voice interrupted her, asking curiously.
"What? I- Yes." Jane responded. How could he know about that? She thought that knowledge on the assault on Torfan was supposed to be top secret.
"I won't waste your time with platitudes, Jane. I know you are an incredible fighter, and you will return victorious, barring some circumstance nobody could have predicted." Harry's voice said, low and soothing. "I'm doing fine as well, by the way, thank you for your concern. I went to Anhur, almost immediately. If you've been keeping up with current events, you'll notice that the more heavily armed Na'Hesit pro-slavery faction is losing against the significantly undermanned abolitionist faction. You see, a few of the wealthier abolitionists pooled their funds, and spent their life savings on mercenaries. Somebody tried to hire me, and when I figured out what was going on, I signed on as a private consultant, basically for free. It's been going well. We'll be making the final push a few days from now. However, I just had a idea. I think I can give you one guarantee. You will not have to take Torfan by force."
Jane sputtered. "What? How can you guarantee that? What could you possibly do to help in this situation?"
"A lot more than most, Jane. A lot more than most." Harry replied. "I'm very sorry to cut this short, but I have something I need to attend to. And you remember the deal we made on Elysium, right? You still owe me a drink!" Harry joked.
Jane smiled, laughing weakly. "Thanks, Harry. Good luck on Anhur. -I should go."
"Good luck on Torfan. See you some other time." Harry responded. He then ordered the Zeus, the Jupiter, the Jormungandr, and the Imperator, four of his twelve super-dreadnaughts, to head to Torfan. He could do more than help. If the four ships fired on Torfan, the force from the blasts would liquefy a significant portion of the surface. Torfan itself was a status symbol: a haven of slavers, pirates, and criminals. Taking it would make the Alliance appear more powerful, and more important. Destroying it? That could paint the Alliance as a powerhouse, with unheard-of firepower. And while Turian fleets had glassed planets during the Rachni wars, they only melted the first few hundred feet of material. Admittedly, it worked, destroying all but the most secure burrows, but it didn't hold a candle to what Harry was about to do.
The four super-capital ships arrived, already cloaked, a few million kilometers away from the moon, Torfan. Each ship, remaining cloaked, fired one full volley; forty-eight astronomically powerful shots slammed into Torfan's surface, annihilating all life on the planet, and as the moon's thin atmosphere was engulfed with flame, a massive shockwave passed through the planet, causing massive earthquakes and devastating infrastructure all over the moon. The four cloaked ships turned, dropped a message beacon, and warped out.
….
Alliance Intelligence was in a state of panic. Scans of Torfan revealed that late last night, an invisible fleet of at least four of the ships that had ended the first contact war had snuck into orbit, and blasted Torfan with enough firepower to liquify a significant portion of the moon's crust. The destruction had occurred simultaneously, or so simulations of the event showed, which meant that the massive ship, at least twenty-one years old, now, had shown up again, with three ships like it. The most confusing thing about it was the message beacon left behind: all it broadcast was a repeating text message in Alliance standard English that said, "Drinks are on me, remember?"
Jane Shepard wasn't sure what to think. She remembered Harry's answer, when she had asked "How could you guarantee that? What could you possibly do to help in this situation?". He had replied, "A lot more than most, Jane. A lot more than most.". Somehow, he had control over the ships that had ended the first contact war: dreadnoughts larger than any ship ever seen before, and a flagship so massive that ships half its size had for a long time been thought to be impossible to create. She needed to talk with Alliance Intelligence. But would Harry consider that a breach of his trust? She sat down to think. Then she blanched.
She had answered his question, "Are you leading the mission to take Torfan?". That was an information leak. That could be grounds for a court-martial. It looked like her silence had been decided for her.
Harry went back to work. He had been about to assault the 'governor's manse' a large compound that housed the wealthiest batarians, their slaves, and was guarded religiously by the planet's government. For months now, he had been the figurehead of the rebellion. He had lead strike teams deep into government facilities, rescuing captured troops, freeing slaves, and assassinating corrupt officials. And now, he was ready to take out the government once and for all. If he could get the access codes to the compound's mainframe, he could arrest most of the government officials on charges of corruption, as well as slave trafficking, nepotism, and conspiracy. However, getting the codes would be harder than just getting into the compound. To get the codes, one would have to get into the home of one of the higher-caste batarians, hack their state-of-the-art system, and get into the mainframe that way. It would be hard for a normal being. Harry simply put on Death's Cloak, Apparated to the Prime Minister's office, and ripped passwords, bank accounts, and access codes out of his head via legilimency.
Harry had decided, months ago, that he would kill most, if not all, of the few wealthiest slave owners on Anhur, steal their accounts, and use their money for more beneficial causes. He did so, over the course of the next day. Harry then downloaded all the data he could on the government's corruption, posted it on the extranet, and on the Abolitionist network. He then sent a politely worded message to the private addresses of the Asari, Turian, and Salarian councilors, indicating that they should step in and remove the current government.
Harry sent an email to Citadel Newsnet, offering an interview. Twelve hours later, he took a teaspoon of liquid luck, and made a very public plea for aid from the galaxy, telling the whole tale of woe from beginning to end. He spoke about how Humanity had always had an issue with slavery, ever since the human race had realized how cruel the practice was. He showed evidence that revealed how brutal the slave-owning batarians were. He told a story that enthralled, and inspired. A tale of bravery, and standing up for truth and justice, despite the odds. And right there, on galactic news, Harry Potter stood, proudly wearing his N7 tag, and with the Mortis Solutions logo, the rune symbol of the Deathly Hallows glowing on his chestpiece, praised humanity for fighting the good fight, even in times of trouble.
The anonymous figurehead of the Anhur rebellions' speech played everywhere. It played on omni-tools on Omega, projected onto walls and other surfaces. It played on massive billboards on Illium, broadcast on an open channel for anyone wanting to tune in. It was projected on the presidium, on local news broadcasts, and in the council chambers, stealing the attention of all who watched. The rebels on Anhur were gaining support and sympathy across the galaxy. Galactic opinions of Humanity as a whole increased, as well. And through it all, the 'Mortis Solutions' logo was proudly emblazoned across Harry's chest.
An asari, sitting on a couch in the Afterlife bar on Omega, watched the speech, curiously. She knew that voice… Aria smiled. There he was again. The human named Harry.
A human grinned. He was smoking a cigarette, and sitting by an observation window that looked out onto a star. This was indeed a stroke of luck. How could he gain the loyalty of the man? The being was definitely a human male, if the slightly modified voice was anything to judge by. And the man was clearly a skilled orator. He would have most audiences in the palm of his hand. Jack Harper considered his options.
An asari tending a bar called Eternity watched, open-mouthed. There he was. That was him. She couldn't see his face, of course, but the voice matched. Aethyta knew she had met that being before. If she recalled correctly, he had drunk a Krogan warlord under the table, then saved her (at the time) estranged daughter from a life of slavery. All before his species had discovered faster than light travel. She would love to meet him again, if at all possible.
A krogan mercenary watched, confused. He knew that voice from somewhere. That was the voice of the only being ever to beat him in a drinking contest. Urdnot Wrex grinned. Perhaps he could have a rematch.
A human watched, confused. She had heard that voice before, of that she was sure. But where? Ashley Williams's eyes opened wide, as her thoughts flew back to a lecture her father had given her. The elder Williams had given her a recording of the only contact with the ships that stopped the first contact war, and had said, days before his death, that if ever she met that man, she was to do her best to thank him for all he had done. It had been clear that he had not expected her to find him. But now, maybe she would be able to fulfill some of her father's last wishes.
An asari at an archeological dig site watched, with a slight frown. She could swear that she had seen that face before- then it hit her. That voice! She had heard it only one other place. She had only heard a brief few sentences, but that was the being that had saved her on Illium. Liara was certain of it.
A turian watched the speech, triumphantly. Sentinus Vakarian knew that voice. That being had saved him, after he had been shot in the head. He drafted a letter to his son, Garrus, and attached a recording of the speech.
A human watched the interview, confused. He was sure he had met the man, but wasn't sure where or when. His thoughts flew back to his first year in biotic training. Then he remembered! That was the voice of Harry Potter! He would recognize that voice anywhere. The man had killed the sadistic turian, commander Vyrnnus, after the turian had taunted him and a few others, saying,
"You filthy humans can't even fire a basic Warp! You!" He pointed at Harry.
"I'm sure you hate me enough. Hit me with your strongest Warp. Maybe it might even hit my barriers." The turian had sneered. The man, Harry, had scowled, raised one hand, and flared his biotics, in a display that awed all watching. Then he fired a massive Warp that slowly disintegrated the screaming turian. There was silence. Then the room had erupted in cheers, while Harry had looked regretfully at his hands. Kaidan Alenko could still remember that day with crystal clarity. He would love to talk with the man over a few drinks.
The Quarian people were collectively gladdened when they recognized the figure on galactic television. It was definitely him: that was the exact same armor he had worn during the Quarian plague, with the exact same logo. The almost-anonymous mercenary who had stopped the quarian bioplague was still out there, making the galaxy a better place.
A human woman watched the interview. Harry had told her he was on Anhur fighting the batarian regime, and this was an excellent interview on the subject. Maybe she'd learn something about the topic-
-wait a second. Was that an N7 decal on the being's armor? And that was biotic armor, designed to amplify biotic attacks. And then she heard the guest speaker, the anonymous interviewee, say one of Harry's favorite phrases: "Slavery is a plague. Morality is both the cure and the vaccine."
Then she was certain. Harry was not just an independent contractor; he was in charge of the whole operation! Jane Shepard couldn't prove it, but she was sure that Harry Potter was leading the Anhur rebellions to success. She smiled, preoccupied. How did he always wind up in the thick of it?
…...
The council immediately moved to send unprecedented amounts of aid to the rebels, and drew up plans to slowly abolish slavery of all kinds, on all planets. In retaliation, the Batarian Hegemony abandoned their embassy on the Citadel, and annulled all treaties with Citadel races.
….
Harry's teaspoon of liquid luck ran out about nine hours after the interview. In that time, he had won three lotteries, saved two diplomats from assassination attempts, bought the rights to mine seven planets, an asteroid belt, a moon, and a majority interest in a small mining company called T-GES Mineral Works. He had then boarded the fastest transport to the Citadel, and arrived just in time to get bull-rushed into a wall by a biotic elcor wearing the trappings of a diplomat. Yelling C-sec officers pursued the lumbering elephantine creature as it lumbered away.
Harry took a few moments to catch his breath, grateful that he was still wearing his armor. It was likely the only thing preventing him from now having to explain how he could survive having his chest cavity crushed in.
He heard gunfire closer to him, and watched a salarian in a bloody lab coat grab an injured turian woman, and place a gun to the back of her head. Harry donned Death's cloak with a swirl, and silently apparated closer. The salarian's high, reedy voice was raised to an almost painful volume, and was tinged with madness.
Harry conjured a fake replica of the salarian's pistol, and then used a switching spell on the gun, replacing it with the fake. Then, he ducked behind cover, and pulled off Death's cloak. There would be only one way to disable the salarian, the liquid luck informed Harry.
He cast a quick illusion, causing what appeared to be some form of jetpack to materialize on the back of Harry's armor. He then rolled out of his cover and into open air, before 'activating' his illusionary 'jetpack' ad magically flying onto the ramp, landing behind the salarian.
With muffled footfalls, Harry snuck up behind the frail alien, and wrestled him to the ground. A few strong punches, and the salarian was down for the count.
Harry almost celebrated, before he heard a roaring noise. The same biotic elcor that had rammed him into a wall had apparently doubled back, and was seeking an escape shuttle. He looked up, in time to see the creature charging at him. With a crackling noise, Harry's omni-blade glowed into existence, sharpened point ready to eviscerate the heavy grey elcor.
With another roar, the elcor turned, and used a biotic Throw to launch the turian woman off the edge of the ramp. Harry caught and held the turian with a silent 'Wingardium Leviosa!' and an 'Illusus!' which mimicked the appearance of the standard singularity. At the same time, he launched a powerful Stasis at the elcor, trapping it in place.
The elcor diplomat froze, immobilized. Reaching into his pocket, Harry pulled out a very large needle containing medical-grade general anesthesia, which would put even an elcor out like a light.
With a careful, precise movements, Harry injected the syringe into the elcor, just as the liquid luck wore off. His stasis lasted a few more seconds, before the Elcor collapsed, unconscious. Harry immediately activated his 'jetpack' and flew to where his spell was holding the turian hostage suspended in midair. Flying underneath her, Harry caught the woman just as he cut off the flow of magic that kept her floating.
Quickly, he flew her back to the landing bay, and administered medi-gel. A few healing charms later, and her wounds were almost healed.
A flanged voice called out, panicked and worried.
"Solana!" A C-sec officer rushed towards Harry and the former hostage. He quickly placed restraints on the salarian and the elcor, then sat down by the injured turian woman. It seemed that they knew each other.
Another three C-sec officers approached, and after further securing the scene, asked where Harry had come from. He explained how he had just gotten off of a transport, and showed them his boarding pass. One officer checked its validity via his omni-tool, then processed it.
After a brief barrage of questions, Harry was free to go, but was instructed to remain on the Citadel for another two days in case he was needed for further questioning.
Resigned, Harry located a bathroom, donned death's cloak, and apparated around. Eventually, he rented a hotel room on the presidium, removed his armor, and went to have a drink.
Harry wound up in an upscale bar, drinking just about anything and everything, as long as it was both highly alcoholic and delicious. He found himself watching the door when a trio of turians, all three of whom he recognized, walked in the door.
One was the first turian Harry had ever seen: Sentinus Vakarian. The second was the first officer to arrive on scene, and the one who knew the hostage by name. The third turian was the hostage herself.
Harry remembered Sentinus Vakarian's multi-decade-old offer of drinks and stories, and decided to take advantage of that. He waved over the three turians, who were still waiting to be seated.
They approached, somewhat confused, until the eldest turian let out a gasp, and spoke in a shocked voice.
"Your name wouldn't be 'Harry,' by any chance, would it?" Sentinus asked.
"Yes, that would be me. I happen to be the same 'Harry' you met about… thirty-one years ago. If I recall correctly, I took out a decently-sized squad of mercenaries who were trying to steal some slaves I had liberated, befor healing your gunshot wound." The elder Vakarian looked at Harry, eyes wide.
"Impossible. You can't be more than twenty human years old."
"I don't age. I was also using a krogan shotgun, the medics couldn't figure out how I healed you, and I jumped onto the mercenaries from the airlock of my ship, which was almost twenty meters in the air. Does that additional information convince you?" Said Harry.
The oldest Vakarian merely gaped, while Garrus and Solana looked on in confusion.
…..
What followed was a highly amusing series of stories and legends from C-sec and law enforcement, and more than a few from the crazier sides of the galaxy. Both Harry and the Vakarian family had a wonderful time drinking and talking over a meal.
Eventually, Sentinus asked,
"So why are you here?" to which Harry replied,
"I'm part of an ongoing investigation, so I need to be here for a few days in case I'm needed for questioning."
"What happened?" two curious voices inquired. Solana merely looked at Harry as if she was seeing him for the first time.
"You saved me, didn't you?" she asked.
"Yes. The investigation I'm involved in is trying to figure out what even happened down there in that shuttlebay."
There was a brief silence. Then there was camaraderie, and lengthy discussions, and discourses about luck, and fate, and time. Sentinus was halfway convinced that his family had a guardian angel, albeit a green-eyed human one.
The four traded stories and jokes back and forth for hours, until everyone began to traipse home, after extracting promises to stay in contact and to stay alive.
Harry had a wonderful time, and enjoyed making some new friends. He had certainly come to appreciate them. As the years passed, good friends had always become more and more valuable.