Title:Way
of the Force
Author name:Icy Manipulator
Author
Category: Romance
Keywords:Harry Jedi
Rating:PG-13
Summary:Allies from unexpected sources.
DISCLAIMER:
This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling and/or George Lucas, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, Lucas Books, Del Rey and Randomhouse, Lucas Arts and Lucasfilm Ltd., and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Author notes:
Dear Reader,
Have any of you read a story that can cause your heart to clench up. You know, that feeling of excitement that causes you to forget to eat, drink and sleep just to get to the last page? or, if you're a writer, can make you ask the question 'Why didn't I think of that?' or better yet ''Gotta take notes on how to make a scene this clear!'
Fanfic Recommendations:
1. The Girl in the Tower - Forget about ships and prophesies and get your tissues and hearts ready. Guaranteed tear jerker!
2. The Psychic Serpent Trilogy - Covers 5th year (HP and the Psychic Serpent), 6th year and my personal favourite (HP and the Time of Good Intentions) and 7th year (HP and the Triangle Prophesy). Well thought out and mind boggling in detail.
3. Promises Unbroken and its sequel Promises Remembered - To make it simple... If you love Sirius, these are for you.
4. Silent All These Years - A new look at Petunia Evans Dursely.
I just had to get that out of the way.
Can't you just hear the guitar strains of Danger Zone, or the lilting tune of the James Bond theme? I know I can, while I was writing this chapter.
This chapter was supposed to be an interlude of sorts but I can't make it work (I deleted the entire thing, restarted from scratch and I still don't like it) so, against my better judgment I moved part of chapter 15 into fourteen to make more room for a complicated twist and a knot that's coming along the way ;-)
Thanks for your patience and support.
IcyManipulator.
Editor's Note: Don't blame Icy for this late chapter! I just realized that I never finished editing it. This probably could have gone out about a week ago if I had been on my game!
Also, I would recommend reading The Psychic Serpent Trilogy. First fanfic I ever read, I believe, and it was awesome. I think it's what got me hooked.
Have a great day!
Jaessa
-
The art of war is of vital importance to the state.
It is a matter of life and death, a road to either safety or ruin.
Hence, it is a subject of inquiry which can on no account be neglected.
-Sun Tzu, The Art of War
-
Chapter 14 – October Compromise
Rev 1.0
"Tally, Tally, Tally. We've got twenty-four… disregard… that's twenty-eight unidentified flying objects with hostile intent. That's two-eight UFO's…" Baker called out to the AWACS as he jinked the Harrier violently to avoid the red laser like beams emitted by the alien fighters.
"Say again, Reece Two… UFO's…?" the unbelieving voice of the AWACS controller inquired.
"For the love of God woman! Send those blasted Falcons in now! We're being overrun by Aliens here!" He shouted exasperatedly back.
"Uh... roger Reece Two… uh… Lobo flight vector in… weapons free," the confused controller's voice answered and called out to the F-16's on CAP.
"Roger that Sentry One… Reece Flight, Lobo One. We're at Angels one-five, sixty seconds out…" the lead of Falcon Squadron's Lobo flight element of four McDonnel Douglas F-16's calmly called out.
'Sixty seconds… that would mean they're at least thirty miles away…' Oddball thought as he weaved in an evasive corkscrew maneuver in order to get a clear shot with the Harrier's guns.
'You might be more maneuverable, but I'm faster… and smarter.' He pressed the trigger as soon as the pipper rested over his target and expected a series of holes appearing alongside the fuselage of the enemy fighter he'd been trailing, instead, a light-blue shimmer appeared just as the bullets hit.
"They've got shields!" came Baker's voice almost at the same time he realized what the glow meant.
"Lobo, Reece One. Pick them off with AMRAAMS… the blasted things don't have a bloody heat signature…" Oddball then warned the incoming flight. It had been a surprise earlier when the pair of AIM-9L Sidewinders Heatseeking missles both planes carried proved useless when the missiles wouldn't lock on their target and forcing them to resort to their guns which, as they've just discovered, where quite ineffective as well.
"Roger. Clear out and evade… " the calm voice of Lobo One acknowledged. Not a moment later, a series of "Fox Three's" could be heard being called out the common air channel as a barrage of sixteen AIM-120s, Advance Medium Range Air-to-Air Missiles or as the aircrews affectionately call them - 'the great white hope', filled the skies with their telltale white trails of smoke.
"You heard the man… Bug out on Three-Two-Zero, Vmax.…" Oddball called out.
"About bloody time… what… happened… to… the 'do not engage' bit," Baker retorted, his heavy breathing easily heard through the aircraft comms as he pushed into a quick negative 3-g dive then abruptly pulling up and left of the stick bringing the aircraft into a diving corkscrew...
"Can it, Two. Let's just call it a day… I'm Bingo Fuel," Oddball then said as he chose a clear out vector and shoved the throttles to the first detent past 'max mil' and into afterburn. As the two harried Harriers twisted and weaved to get out of the 'playground', the analytical part of Oddball's mind was able to catch up with the instinctive part, enabling him to somewhat piece together the last intense two minutes of his life.
The fight was an odd one. Of the twenty eight fighters that were present only eight of them engaged the Reece Flight. The rest were just hovering. As if they were just watching and gauging their capabilities. Another odd fact was that they didn't go into any evasive maneuvers, even when Lobo Flight unleashed their deadly payload of radar guided missiles.
'Are they stupid or what?' Oddball thought to himself. 'They've got advantage in numbers. But even in the Four vee One engagement... it seems like they don't even know how to fly yet or their technology doesn't register ours...'
As if to punctuate his thoughts, a series of fireballs bloomed around him, indicating that Lobo's AMRAAMs had found their marks.
"One, you won't believe this... they're still there," Baker called back in disbelief.
"Well, there's nothing we can do about it," Oddball replied in a frustrated tone, taking a check again on his remaining fuel. Indeed there was nothing he can do since they both only had enough fuel left to get back to base, barely at that.
Although something was really tugging at his mind that something didn't fit. 'Hell… even 'Blue Book' doesn't cover a profile like this… and we thought we've only got Voldemort to worry about, now we've got blasted aliens too.' He thought furiously but then again he sighed and called out to the AWACS of their disengagement and a request for vectors to the nearest alternate, which in this case was the Hermes Class Aircraft Carrier Invincible.
"Negative on that Reece flight. Fuel Tanker in orbit with us at 328 degrees 15 miles. Orders from TACOM are to fill up and proceed immediately to Lutton Airfield to await further instructions," the controller said, relaying NATO's Tactical Air Command's orders.
"Well that's just neat mate…" Baker called in from their flight channel.
"Uh, willco Sentry…" Oddball acknowledged the Controller. 'Now that's… odd…' he thought.
On board Lobo Flight...
"Negative kill... request orders," Lobo One reported back to the AWACS controller as he and his flight disengaged and returned to a standoff position while keeping their attack radars locked on to the invaders.
"Copy that Lobo. Orders are to blow through VTR on and RTB at Lutton," the controller acknowledged, instructing them to break through the enemy formation while running their video recording equipment the head to Lutton Airfield.
"Clarify, Homeplate is Hahn Airforce Base…." the flight leader started to ask, everyone knew the 50th's were based at Hahn AB in Germany, but he got cut of by a familiar gruff voice.
"You've got your orders and are expected to follow through AND you are to report to me with the rest of your squadron… yesterday. Is that understood?" An ominous voice called back, clearly implying that the entire squadron should report to him as soon as possible… literally.
"And who are you… Sir?" Lobo One inquired, his cocky Texan accent expertly drawling out the words mockingly at this unknown voice. 'Probably just some Major or Captain…"
"This is Darkstar," The voice answered as the simple reply but it was enough to fluster the commander of Lobo One.
"Uh… Roger that, Sir," Replied Col. Ian 'Bird Dog' McKenzie 50th TFW USAFE , hoping that his involuntary shiver wouldn't carry over the airwaves. There weren't a lot of people that could spook a full Colonel, especially with the citations and missions under his name… except for that particular call sign.
'Oh shit,' he thought grimly. 'I should've known they would be involved.'
He then clicked his com to his flight's channel. "Lobo Flight, Lobo Lead. Turn on the music and the VTR…" he order his flight as he too, turned on his attack radar and video recording system. He then felt the tightening of the G-suit as he shoved the throttles to max afterburn.
"… Let's Rock and Roll"
Somewhere in London, same day…
The browned eyed aide watched intently as a tall medium built man dressed in a black Armani suit got off his Jaguar XJR. He turned to her with a smile and proceeded to come near, just stopping within arms reach with which he held out a hand.
"Mr. O'Neill?" she ask, feeling a slight weakening in her knees as he held her gaze.
"Call me James... and you are?" he asked. Though he already knew her from his earlier briefing folder before he went to meet his boss…
"Emma… Emma Newheart," She replied. Still a bit flustered at the intensity of this man. Its was then she realized she'd been holding on a bit too long that she suddenly let go as if she'd been burned.
"Ah Yes, 'M' did mention he got a new aide… I'd say about time to. Poor old Christian isn't cut out for the job anymore. Well, lead on… we don't want his Lordship to keep waiting," he ended with a wink and getting a giggle in return as they went into the new home of the British Intelligence Office.
Lord Rupert Jennings, the Head of British Intelligence or MI-6 was a large built man of gruff disposition. Though for a man 50 summers, he looked a lot more like a man of sixty. 'Comes with the job' he would always tell his wife and with each hour that passed since the event last night he felt he aged another five. 'By the time this is over, I'll be dust in the ground.' He thought as he half listened to the video-telecon with his counterpart in Langley Virginia.
"This is bad Rupert. There were no demands or warnings beforehand. I believe we've got a new player," Lorelei Russel, Director of Intelligence, said worriedly.
"Or it could be a prelude to World War 3," he responded grimly.
"Don't even think that… we're at DEFCON Three as it is, but with nowhere to point to… look the president's got his hands tied right now, we've got most of the fleet fighting brush fires around the globe and the Gulf and all… couple that with the defense cutbacks and reduction in NATO forces, we cannot afford another war," she said and was about to continue some more but Rupert held out his hand in a placating gesture.
"I know what you're saying Lori… but I've just received news that the recon flight sent on Damage Assessment had encountered some… problems. But, that's not the important part; I've received word from Ministry 'X' and I am expecting a full report from them by this afternoon… I suggest you contact your own Department of 'Paranormal Phenomena'. From the gist of the brief they sent over, 'Armageddon' is in code blue," He then carefully enunciated, never wanting to repeat what he said.
The gasp he heard from the DIA only confirmed that she already knew about the magical world, and by the looks of it, she'd been thoroughly briefed before she took the reigns of the Intelligence Agency a year ago.
"Code blue," She breathe out the words. "That would mean that…"
"Yes, A great possibility exists that the magical world's problems would be spilling over to ours. The worst it ever went to was code yellow… around 15 year back if I remember correctly," He said, but just then a ping indicated that his best agent and friend was now waiting outside the door. "I'll call you tonight Lori, think about what I've said…" With that, he ended the vid-call and turned his chair around to face his desk.
"Emma… can you send James in please?" he called into the intercom and not a few moments later the young man who had been his protégé came in.
"Pleased to see you again James…" offering his hand as he said this.
"Nice to see you too sir… so what's the new mission?" James asked as he took a quick look around the new office.
"Never one to beat around the bush…" the fat under the old man's chin shook like jell-o as he amusedly answered back. "As much as I want to start right now, we need to wait a bit for the others."
"Oh, another one of those…" James declared as he expected another milk run mission of finding a contact, or maybe a drop-off…
"I assure you, James, there would be quite a difference on this mission than any that you've gone to before…" Rupert said
29 September 1996 London
A lone figure was watching the Tele showing the news as all about her, the busy city dwellers uneasily went there way.
... In what could be one of the worst acts of terrorism, the city of Paris was leveled last night by what our sources tell us as a black market supplied Neutron Bomb…
"You're late!" the red-headed witch snapped at the man.
"Sorry to have kept you waiting but, I've been unavoidably detained…" the sallow skinned man replied with a sneer.
"No matter, we're already late for the meeting… " she said as she began took out a spoon from her pocket which they both touched and were immediately whisked away. They didn't care if they were seen; it won't matter in a few days anyway...
British Intelligence Office – 28 September 1996 1600 Local
"Molly! It's been a long time!" Rupert said. Happily greeting his childhood friend.
"Rupert! It's so good to see you…" she went to give the old man one of her trademark hugs. When she let go, she held him at arms length and looked critically at him. "You've not been taking care of yourself. I need to have a word with Bernadette about this…"
"Now, now Molly, it's not her fault that someone has to keep a watchful eye on Britain does she? Besides, I'm sure she'll be happy for the reinforcement you'll give her… God knows how aggravated she'd been off me. And How's Arthur and the kids? Did he enjoy the blender we sent last Christmas?" Rupert said, the weight of a couple of years seemingly vanishing as he acquainted himself again with a friendly face. But it was suddenly gone again when on cue, as a throat was cleared behind them.
"I'm sorry to intrude sir… but, would you mind explaining… how did our… er… guest get here?" The normally composed James stammered out. It's not everyday you see two people pop in out of thin air.
"Ah, sorry about that James… This is Molly Weasely, a good friend of mine from way back and the gentleman with her is…"
"Severus Snape," Snape said.
"Yes…" Rupert said hesitantly as he looked intently at the pale faced man. "And this here is James O'Neill, my protégé if you will…"
"Now that we all know each other, we best start to business," Snape interrupted.
"No need to be rude Severus…" she scolded Snape then turned to Rupert. "I'm sorry Rupert but he is right, we are on the verge of darkness and the maw of the abyss is opened wide…" Then turning to James. "All will be explained… and I hope you're half as good as your mentor, for all our sakes."
Fort Hood, Texas, USA. - 01 October 1996
"YOU THINK YOU LADIES ARE GOOD?... well, I've got news for you… I WILL ONLY ACCEPT EXCELLENCE AS PASSING!...NOW, GET OUT THERE AND DO 50 AND ONCE YOUR DONE… DO ANOTHER 50 AND AFTER THAT, I'D LIKE YOU TO COME BACK HERE AND ASK FOR MORE… IS THAT UNDERSTOOD?" The Master Sergeant blared.
"Sir, Yes Master Sergeant, Sir!" The company replied.
"WHAT WAS THAT? AREN'T YOU HAPPY TO BE HERE?"
"SIR, YES MASTER SERGEANT, SIR!" The Company replied louder.
"WELL?... GO, GO, GO!" Master Sergeant Bill Nichols SFOD-D, US Army yelled at the new recruits of one of America's two primary counter insurgency groups.
'Too young… too Raw but when I'm through you'll be able to kill with a swipe like a lion's claw,' The burly Drill Sergeant thought to himself.
"Sir! General Walters on the horn, sir," The young corporal approached him as he handed over the sat-phone.
"How's the trainin' workin' out Bill?" the voice of Brigadier General Pete Walters asked.
"Doing just fine sir, but I don't think a Brig-Gen would be calling Grunts just to ask how they're doing…" Bill replied.
"Same old Gunny Bill…" The General chuckled, anybody but him could get away with talking back at a superior officer. Of course, it would also help if said superior officer was a former trainee and a close friend. "Anyway, I'm sure you've heard of the Paris Incident?"
"Well, if you call a nuclear holocaust an incident, yeah…" Bill answered suspiciously.
"I need team Delta…" the General began.
"You're calling up the wrong guy Pete. Delta's headed up by Col. John Barry up at Fort Bragg."
"I know… and I also know you've turned down 6 promotions… Hell, you'd be Major by now. So, whether you like it or not, effective immediately…"
"You can't do that… in case you've forgot, step or field promotions only has effect when in wartime and…" Whatever else Bill wanted to say got cut off when he heard the words that would pull him back to the world he thought he left for good, ever since his wife was murdered.
"… You are hereby promoted to the rank of Captain to serve as Liaison and Special Tactics and Training officer for the Spec-Ops team being set up right now by NATO… and Bill…" The General sounded a bit hesitant. He knew that the buried wounds would be opened.
"Dig up that old 'stick' of yours… 'Armageddon' has been raised to 'Code Yellow'."
TBC