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Chapter 1: One Harry Short

"I hate seeing him like this," Hermione declared bitterly, watching Harry float inside the mucous substance these people had immersed him in days earlier. "I've seen it far too often."

Next to her, George was simply staring, straight ahead. As much as the Weasley twins had, once upon a time, grated on her nerves, especially so after she had become a prefect, seeing one of them like this, it never got any easier. Truthfully, none of the family members had coped with the final battle all that well, and even almost two years later, things were rather broken at the Burrow, or what was left of it. Ginny had, of course, been inconsolable after Harry's disappearance and grieved not only for her brother but also for what she seemed to think was her perfect man; whether that was true or not, Hermione found hard to determine, after only a few weeks of actually seeing them as a couple in sixth year. Last she knew, Ron's little sister had gone to the continent, backpacking as a muggle to 'find herself'. A wise choice if there ever was one, for someone who had been defined by outside forces for so long.

As for Ron himself, well, at first, he had flourished with Harry's disappearance, now that he was finally free from under the shadow of his best friend. But a change of circumstances was hardly going to change how people were, deep down, and the more time his now former girlfriend had invested in finding the man she considered her best friend and brother in spirit, the more distrusting and jealous he got. As far as she was aware, he was now off somewhere, drinking himself into a stupor and cursing the world for having wronged him after he had been thrown out of the auror academy for bad behaviour and excessive sloppiness. The absolute worst of it all had actually been that he asked for Hermione's help with the things he was supposed to study, instead of, just for once, putting in the work himself. It was for something he really, really wanted, after all, or so he always said.

"He always did get in a lot of trouble, didn't he?" Neville commented from her other side. Unlike George, he did not seem like the War had broken him. Instead, just like a sword needs tempering to achieve its full potential, he had been hardened in the fire. "But this… an entirely different universe? He's outdone himself, this time."

It was hard to argue against that, Hermione knew, as attested to by the fact that, even with the entire knowledge of the Department of Mysteries at hand, it had taken almost two years of constant research to replicate the feat he had experienced naturally, as some fluke of destiny.

"You think he'll leave with us?" the man not staring into the distance questioned, looking at his companion with honest curiosity. "You know him better, but it doesn't seem like it, to me."

"He has to," Hermione snapped at him, immediately regretting her outburst as she noticed his crestfallen expression. "Sorry, Neville. I'm sure he will; as soon as he hears how things are going back home, he'll want to do everything he can do to help. It's just who he is."

"Like I said, you know him better than I do," Neville conceded, though he seemed far from convinced. His scepticism was stoking a fear even Hermione had been denying herself to feel, the worry that Harry would be… reticent, at best, to go back to his original universe. That worry seemed to only be further fuelled by what he had obviously built here. Then, her friend raised another topic that might lower the chances of them returning successfully, "Hey, you think that woman was Harry's girlfriend? She was here even more than you, when she was still… you know, on the planet."

"Leia?" Hermione asked, just in an effort to clarify the situation. It was obvious of whom Neville was speaking. There had only been one other person that could even come close in regard to the time spent with the recuperating wizard, and she was quite visibly not interested in him in… that way. The short woman with the fascinating hairdos, however, most definitely was.

Leia, she had introduced herself in broken English, Leia Organa. A true beauty she was, too, if not exactly the type Harry had gone for in the past; if Cho and Ginny together even constituted a type, at all. Sure, they were both rather trim and tall, but that was about it, and character-wise, the two were about as far removed from each other as it was possible, their only overlap a shared love for Quidditch. And Harry was not the kind of person to be only guided by what people were on the outside.

"Yeah, her," Neville replied to her almost forgotten question from the beginning of her train of thought, almost left behind in the wake of her considerations. "She was cute."

Hermione snorted a little at that. "Glad you think so, Neville, but I do indeed think she's quite taken with Harry."

For a while, the two fell back into silence, simply watching their friend's form float in the cylindrical tank; the burn wounds that had been visible all over his body were already healing nicely, and even magic probably could not have done a much better job, though it would probably have been somewhat faster acting. Still, it was hard to argue with results, and much of the horridly burned tissue had already closed over once again without even leaving the hideously disfiguring scars often involved for burn victims.

It was Neville who, a few minutes later, began speaking again, "Have you looked around outside?"

"A bit," Hermione admitted hesitantly; an entirely new planet, devoid of native sentient life that Harry's people had colonised to get away from things, it seemed. At least that was the case if the rudimentary English skills of one Leia Organa were to be trusted not to horribly mangle the message of her words. "It's rather… impressive. Harry always had the drive to make things happen in a way almost no one else could."

"I'm just saying…" her companion began talking but was quickly interrupted by the entry of one of the metallic beings that sometimes made their way through the gigantic structure all these people seemed to consider home. To Hemione's eyes, it all seemed rather militaristic, but she had yet to see any of the living quarters belonging to the permanent residents. This particular version had a black coat of paint and a golden symbol on the left side of its chest: a heptagon with a stylised horizon as seen from orbit, under a blazing star. At least that was her interpretation, and it sounded like something Harry would go for, at least this version of him, that she only knew from the tales of others who, at best, only spoke her language in short, rudimentary sentences.

"I am TC-A5, robot-human translator," the humanoid robot introduced itself with a voice that sounded both decidedly tinny and male. "I have been tasked by Mercer Fenwick, second-in-command of Sanctuary and acting commander to provide you with my services. With the books you supplied and the limited vocabulary Princess Leia was able to provide, I have been able to fashion a translation matrix between Galactic Basic and what you call English."

"Uh, thank you… TC-A5," Hermione replied, not quite sure how communicating with a mechanical being was supposed to work; at least part of the communication trouble would be over now, though. And besides that there was never anything wrong with being friendly and courteous.

"You're quite welcome, Ma'am," the translator robot replied in a passable imitation of her own Queen's English. "Do you currently have need of my services?"

Before she could answer, Neville once again took the initiative, like he was more prone to these days than anyone knowing the shy, quiet boy he was in school could easily believe. "We have a few things to talk about between ourselves; could you wait outside the door and give us a tour in a few minutes?"

"Of course, Sir."

With that, the robot left again, reaching a surprising speed despite his odd, stilted gait, like both knee joints had lost the ability to bend the way they should. Without anyone to overhear them, now, Neville turned his attention back to her.

"Like I was saying, are you sure Harry's going to want to leave?" Neville questioned, insistently, pointing all around them. "Leave all this here? Leave his girlfriend behind?"

"Of course, he will," she replied, non-plussed. Whether she was trying to convince him or herself, she was no longer quite sure. But he had to come back, or everything they had fought for was doomed to failure.

"Alright," her travelling companion allowed, raising his hands in supplication, even though he clearly did not buy her assurances. "Just… just consider the possibility, that's all I'm asking. It's the least we owe him."

Before Hermione had a chance to object that there was no possibility of Harry wanting to stay here when he was needed back home, he was out of the door; apparently, he had no more tolerance left for the oft-debated issue. One last worried glance toward the man, for whom best friend was simply too inadequate a description, she followed through the door. As it… he?... had been asked to, the robot was standing in the stark corridor, waiting for the two humans he was supposed to be leading around.

"Follow me, please" he bade, in his monotone, tinny voice as the oddly stiff legs began leading them toward the bank of elevators they had last used when they were being shown to their rooms. Since then, the only contact to the outside world, at least for Hermione, had been the large terrace-like structure where the smaller upper part of the building met the wider lower part, and that could much more comfortably reached by a single, smaller lift closer to their quarters. "This is the central turbolift bank. Lieutenant Fenwick has informed me that you will be provided with learning aides to the common galactic alphabet and numerals. Be advised that the two underground levels are strictly off-limits to any non-base personnel."

The three of them, George had simply slunk out of the infirmary after them, never saying a word, indicated their understanding. "Excellent," their guide commented in his continued, emotionless monotone. "The Lieutenant has also assigned you an organic aide until you have acclimatised to your new surroundings; we will meet her at the armoury on the ground level."

Not really knowing quite how to answer that, Hermione simply accepted it silently, patiently waiting for the turbolift, as people here called the incredibly fast variant of an elevator, to arrive on ground floor with the gigantic vehicle bays she had previously only seen in passing. Even now, with appropriate amounts of time available, due to the snail's pace offered by their interpreter, the true scale was hard to grasp. To think that a place like this was only a tiny cog in a galaxy-wide war machine, if the limited explanation she had received from Leia was to be believed... Unfortunately, there was rather little reason to distrust the other woman, which somehow rankled her. It was not that she felt about Harry in that way, though there might once have been a chance for the two of them to make a good go at a relationship. No; as much as she wanted to deny it, Harry's girlfriend, more than anything or anyone else, was going to be an obstacle in her declared mission of bringing him back, to finish the mission they had both suffered so much for.

"Ma'am, Sirs," the translator interrupted her thought processes once again, and she finally noticed they had reached their destination already. "Trooper Brynn Tevo, a member of the marine contingent on Captain Potter's flagship, the Lightbringer."

TC-A5 had led them to a young woman, maybe a few years older than the two guests she was supposed to be leading around and the man she had accepted as her captain. She was saluting them, palm down, Hermione noticed, so it was a Navy salute. Unfortunately, she was just as incapable of speaking English as everyone else here obviously was, and they had to wait for the translation.

"Trooper Brynn Tevo, at your service. An honour to meet friends of the Captain," he relayed to them, and Hermione thought she might have been able to pick some inflexion in the usual monotone. Maybe that was reserved from when the subject of the translation actually expressed emotions? It would certainly explain the relative lack of expression in any other circumstance, for if the robot just showed emotions at any time, it would be impossible to distinguish between the relayed and the personal ones. Assuming, of course, this incredibly advanced construct was even capable of feeling emotions.

"Thank you for the translation, TC-A5" Neville told the robot, smiling tightly in recognition of the service they had been provided. Apparently, Hermione was not the only one who found it hard to relate to this synthetic being. George, as he was wont to do these days, was simply standing there, silently. Oh, he was taking everything in, of that there was no doubt, with his eyes flicking about as if he was looking for dangers everywhere, but he seldomly interacted.

"I've been assigned as your aide and guide, at least until can find your way around on your own," the woman said, once again drawing the three guests' attention. Obviously, she would be much less preoccupied by the hyper-advanced interpreter than people who had likely never seen a robot in their entire lives. Hermione certainly had not, and she doubted the two wizard-raised men with her had either. "Would you like to take a look at a few of our vessels? The Captain always seems most fascinated by those."

When she heard the translation, all Hermione could do was not laugh out loud; still a chuckle escaped. Of course, Harry would like the flying vehicles most. They were, after all, flying vehicles. In fact, she dreaded what crazy stunts he might think of, or had already pulled off, with these things, if his past in Quidditch was any indication.

"Sure," she therefore agreed, easily, concealing how curious she was by now how an actual, real spaceship looked like from the inside. They had a mission in coming here, obviously, but the opportunities to learn were seemingly… infinite, eternal, endless. An entire galaxy's worth of knowledge.

"Wait here, then," the soldier told them before she was quickly off. From the fact that she was making a beeline for the line of vehicles in the back of the gigantic garage, Hermione guessed she was getting them a ride. Her first impression of their guide, she pondered while they were waiting for her to return, was of someone more subdued than she appeared to be now; the plain face held worry lines in numbers she was unaccustomed to for a face so young, and while her burly frame certainly betrayed strength, there was a defeated quality around her that was hard to pin down. Within short order, before there was really enough opportunity to think about matters further, she returned at the wheel of what looked like the futuristic version of a car. A floating car. "Get inside; we could walk everywhere, it's not that far, but it would take forever with TC."

And so, the three humans and one robot climbed into the hovercar, the latter rather poorly and with quite a bit of manoeuvring, until Neville finally had mercy and helped things along with a quick swish and flick of his wand. Soon thereafter, they were off.

It took them maybe thirty seconds to reach their destination: a sleek, dagger-shaped vessel painted the same black as the interpreter currently muttering about the ignobility of just suddenly starting to float, with the same gold accents, only missing the prominent display of what had to be this group's logo. In comparison to the giant complex they had just left, the ship had appeared tiny from some distance, but now that they were right beneath it, Hermione could see what kind of a behemoth it actually was.

"This is the Lightbringer," Trooper Tevo explained with a wide, arcing gesture, somewhat undercut by the fact that she had to wait for the ticked-off interpreter to resume his intended role. "A corvette of the Raider II-class, 150 metres of laser cannons, ion cannons, turbo lasers and ordnance launchers. And she's both sneaky and sturdy, too. Empire designed them to patrol alone, out on the Rim. Not much in a real battle, but perfect for our purposes."

The thought of a real battle for which even this monstrous construction was not enough proved to be truly terrifying; if she was already feeling dwarfed by the Lightbringer, how would it feel being next to one of the bigger warships Tevo seemed to be alluding to? Even this one was already twice the length of a jumbo, and it was considered small?

"Do you want to look inside? You've been authorised for non-sensitive areas by Lieutenant Fenwick." As if suddenly remembering something, the soldier jammed her hands in her pockets and pulled out a number of metal objects, three to be precise, and handed each of them a single one. "Forgot to give you these: code cylinders. Keep them with you at all times, they allow you to open doors you have clearance for. Don't lose them, or we'll have to shift codes for the entire base. It's very tedious."

Nodding, the three guests accepted the small metal items, each of them with a clip clearly intended to be fastened on the clothes somewhere; unfortunately, robes were not known for their many straight edges, to which a clip could be easily attached. In the end Hermione wound up fastening it to her pants under the robes.

"I would like to take a look."

The silent, almost meek declaration seemed to surprise everyone; even Hermione had flinched a bit at hearing George, the surviving Weasley twin; she had gotten used to not hearing his voice for hours upon end during their preparations, and always with the most basic of replies only. In fact, she could hardly remember him actually requesting something. That was something their guide seemed to recognise as well, as she quickly led them up the large ramp into the ship's underside; or rather, as quickly as having TC-A5 underfoot allowed them to.

"This is the small hangar," Trooper Tevo informed them, pointing out a few important pieces of equipment along the way, until they reached what could only be a starfighter, right in the back. "And this is the Captain's personal fighter. He calls it Lux, even though no one understands what he means by it."

As soon as she heard the name, Hermione knew the reasoning behind it, and it amused her to know that 'no one understands what he means by it' was no longer true. Lux, Light; Harry knew enough Latin to find a certain humour in a fighter named Lux being carried aboard a ship named Lightbringer. Judging by Neville's small, knowing grin and George's wan smile, she was not the only one who had understood the joke.

"And Harry really flies this? Like, in outer space?" Neville asked, non-plussed, looking at the craft with something approaching fear. Right, he had never been a fan of heights, and even growing as massive a spine as he had during his later Hogwarts years was never going to change that. Hurtling around outer space with only a thin shell of metal and what looked like normal glass for protection would be incredibly low on his bucket-list.

"Of course, he does," their tour guide replied, equally baffled; for someone who had lived their whole life with the possibility of space flight, their fascination was likely a bit strange. "He's a talented pilot, as far as I've heard."

Just another piece of unsurprising information, Hermione judged, before setting off after Trooper Tevo to continue their tour.

OOOOOOOO

"We're picking up only the agreed-upon vessels," Jane announced from the sensor station aboard the Alderaanian Twilight, the newly christened VT-49 Decimator everyone somehow considered to be Leia's personal starship. She was not quite sure, how that had happened, given that she had spent rather little time on it, overall, and the last ship she had used herself was the Dromedary, one of the YT-2000s, but she was not overly willing to question it. Instead, when Mercer had told her to give it a name already, she had decided to stick with Harry's naming convention and named it after her lost home planet. And now, she was once again, without question, in command of a ship.

"Good," she replied, looking over the sensor readouts herself, just to make sure. A gifted pilot she might be, but the former slave was still getting used to operating the other aspects of many ships. "Signal the flag ship we're ready for the transfer to commence."

In the distance, just beyond visual range, she could make out the small Consortium flotilla she expected to be carrying Tyber Zann, who was eagerly expecting the delivery of their dead target. Obviously, Maximilian Seerdon was not really dead, what they were dropping off was merely a product of a clever use of permanent transfiguration on a roughly ISB commander-sized boulder, but Zann did not need to know that. No, for the moment the Black Sun mole who had painted a target on the crime lord's forces was more or less happy being a prisoner on Sanctuary. Probably more, given his most likely other option would have been death at the hand of some other, less scrupulous bounty hunter.

"They've transmitted docking clearance and coordinates," the Twi'lek announced to the gathered crew. They were a somewhat meagre group, as appropriate for the size of their ship, with only Jane herself, as well as Leia, Javoc and Corsek. Iabaes was off doing whatever it was that Mandalorians did when they had free time, and she had taken the weird starfighter/shuttle hybrid they had captured from the fleeing captain of the pirates above Mandalore with her. Harry, obviously, was still indisposed, Mercer unavailable due to his job of shouldering the growing responsibility of overseeing the colony and Arden was off doing whatever it was that Dathomirian witches did when they felt they were unobserved. Probably hitting something… maybe a tree, or a flower.

"Bring us in, helmswoman," Leia ordered, to the immense delight of their pilot. It really was always a refreshing sight to see her take that much enjoyment of something that to most others would seem rather mundane; then again, she knew multiple people like that, who all loved flying beyond reason. The princess… queen, herself, mostly tolerated it. Yes, she was rather competent, but it was not something she would do to pass the time, unlike her boyfriend. Or Jane, or Luke, or any number of the Mandalorian pilots who had simply never left after their daring rescue over Yavin IV and were now quite happy in the employ of the man they felt honour-bound to after being rescued from captivity themselves.

Around them, formed up in a protective screen, were these exact same fighter pilots, flying their M14-Xs (though maybe the X was no longer really necessary, now that the craft were no longer all that experimental), watching out for any sign of a possible double-cross. So far, everything was going smoothly though, and Leia doubted Zann would try and do anything untoward. Besides exchanging massive amounts of credits for what he thought was a dead body, obviously. But for someone like the crime boss, reputation was important, and the number of people willing to work for him, and especially their quality, was bound to dwindle if he was known to not honour his deals.

"Twilight Squadron, join the Consortium fighters' protective screen," she therefore ordered their escort as they passed the perimeter of the small flotilla sent to their scheduled meeting. Well, perhaps flotilla was taking things a bit far; it was mostly just two squadrons of the snowflake-shaped fighters the Consortium had as standard-issue for their fighter pilots and a Marauder-class pocket cruiser Zann or his representative were using to be ferried around. Into Jane's direction she then added, "Set us down in the hangar, gently. Don't want to dent anything in here."

From the inside, the larger vessel was surprisingly well maintained; where many of the other pirate ships Leia had seen over time, especially since working with Harry and his crew, were often in disrepair, the corvette they were now squeezing into was clearly taken care off, with both regular cleanings and routinely scheduled maintenance. Everything was still a bit grimy, especially when compared to the Empire's ships, but not everyone could be such neat-freaks as the Imperial Navy. And at least from the mechanical point of view, everything seemed to be in order: no exposed wiring, no aftermarket modifications visibly tacked on in various places. Clearly, Zann ran a tight ship in his organisation.

"Aaand… we're down," Jane announced for the group, surprising Leia quite a bit; the Twi'lek really was improving at an impressive pace, if she was landing without a noticeable bump now. "I see a group approaching the access ramp."

"Then let's hand off Seerdon's 'body'," here, the Alderaanian added air-quotes around the words, as it still amused her to no end that they were handing over a fake body, "and get out of here. The quicker we're done here, the quicker we can leave the whole Zann business behind."

Internally, she rather winced though; she could well remember the crime lord saying this was more of a test than anything else. And if he was testing them, and letting that test cost him 500000 credits, then he wanted to do something with the outcome of the evaluation, afterwards. Hopefully it was either off in the distant future or would allow them to finally gain some ground on the criminal, find something that would keep him off their backs. Ideally, something that would allow them to cripple or destroy his entire enterprise altogether.

"Let's get this over with, then," Corsek agreed and stood up from where he had been manning one of the weapon consoles that remotely controlled the two turreted quad laser cannons; over on the other side, Javoc was currently leaving the other one. "R3, keep the engines warm, in case something goes wrong."

With a short beep affirming the man's order, the already geared-up group climbed down the narrow implement that could not quite decide, whether it was ladder or staircase to where the permanently transfigured rock that now looked and acted exactly like the body of Maximilian Seerdon would, was waiting for them on a currently inactive hover stretcher, covered by a sheet, kept cool by a strong cooling charm Arden had placed, which Leia now removed. It would, after all, not do for the Consortium to start asking themselves why they had in their possession a corpse that was somehow managing to keep itself frozen. With a few deft hand movements, Javoc ever the mechanic, activated the stretcher and began pushing it ahead of the group to the ramp Jane was now lowering. Once again, Leia checked her glamour in the shiny surface of some fixture or other, then stepped outside.

What awaited them was a small group of people, most of them obviously some kind of mercenaries, and the pricey kind, too, judging by the impressive weapons and well-kept armour. The thing really drawing looks, though, was the person standing in the front: a large, bipedal bird of all things, the large beak something of a giveaway. It was not a species Leia recognised, but that did not have to mean anything; there were so many sentient species out there, and who knew how many unscrupulous cloners and other groups willing to experiment with various species' genomes that knowing every possible variation was simply impossible. Still, this one's stature was quite striking, so she was sure she would have remembered his kind, had she read of them before.

"Urai Fen, at your service," the tall being introduced… himself, Leia decided to go out on a limb. The being was not carrying any of the traits usually seen in females of even the most varying species. "I was expecting to be meeting with Captain Dash."

"Funny you should say that," the disguised princess snarked back. The mention of her injured boyfriend had rankled her. "We were expecting to meet with Tyber Zann, given that it's him who's blackmailing us into working for him."

Urai Fen nodded his… head in understanding, before waving an underling from the back of his group to the front. "The fee for the work you were… blackmailed into doing. 500000 credits, as agreed. I take it that is the proof of your success."

"Yes, it is," Leia replied, waving Javoc with the stretcher to the front, where two of the mercenaries took over and pushed it all the way to Zann's emissary, where they quickly pulled back on the sheet, just to confirm the body's identity. When they were sure the dead person was who it was supposed to be, the one with the credits pushed his cargo over toward the Alderaanian Twilight's loading ramp, where he (or she, it really was hard to tell with their armour) simply left it, hovering around as if it was not the kind of money many beings in the Outer Rim would never earn in their entire lives.

"You can keep the hoversled," Fenn threw out in the awkward silence that followed between the two groups, making Leia think this seemingly emotionless criminal actually did have a sense of humour, if one as dry as the day side of a tidally locked planet.

"And you can keep the gurney; fair exchange, I would say," she replied evenly, fixating the bird-being's blue eyes with her own. "There is one other item I have for sale, though, about Seerdon's… partners in crime, if you will. He was not working alone."

Reading the expressions of someone without a mouth was always a bit of a challenge, Leia had found over the years, and this was no different. Still there was a noticeable widening of the eyes that she took to be surprise at her words. Obviously, this was something the Consortium, or at least this particular underling, had not considered.

"And what would that information cost my employer?" Fen asked in his deep, monotone, ratchety voice that was still oddly expressive.

Leia smiled shrewdly, internally debating, whether the obviously intelligent being across from her would take the deal. "Our group needs more ships, we've quite a few unoccupied pairs of hands around, and I've just the thing in mind."

OOOOOOOO