Thank you for those who had constructive, contributive comments. Those, when I see them, are deeply appreciated.
As a note: The formatting here might be a little weird when C1-B0 speaks, primarily because I write my fics specifically to take advantage of the advanced HTML features available on Archive of Our Own. I only post to FFnet for visibility purposes, and less because I enjoy using FFnet. If there are any significant formatting issues, I will endeavor to fix them, but there is only so much I can do with the limited "Edit Document" applet of FFnet. Sorry about that!
For those of you who are mad/think that its dumb that her name is still Harry James Potter and not Heather/Jasmine/Rose/Hyacinth/Daisy/Dorea Potter- I'm not sorry in the slightest, actually. It's just a name, and she will not be adopting a traditionally feminine name at any point in this story. Not only is it her name for a very good reason, but it's also not any sort of name at all in the Star Wars universe, so her being called "Harry James Potter" is literally meaningless. Besides, it isn't like she'll be using that name all the time anyway.
If you don't like that, then this very much is not the story for you, and you should probably give it up now because it's going to get more genderfucky from here. Thanks for reading! :)
Midweek, 15 Frostwane 546 ME (15.02.546)
She remembered the day she, Minerva and Filius had woven the spells together to create her study. Creating her "Sanctuary" chest had been perhaps one of the greatest things she and her teachers had ever done, and it had been built expressly for the purpose of providing Harry just that: sanctuary from those who sought to ruin her life.
The study in particular had been a wonderous sort of thing. When she stepped through the double doors made of heavy, thick mahogany, everything seemed to hush to a lull. No magic, no dreams, nothing could harm her here. A perfect place to practice Occlumency, a perfect place to hide from it all.
Perhaps it was her crutch, but she didn't care.
Dropping into the leather chair that sat behind her desk, she warily observed the piles of parchment that littered it. She hadn't touched anything here since the day she'd gone through the Veil, and that had only been because she was frustratingly trying to sort the last legal nonsense to ensure Teddy didn't want for anything despite her being gone.
The Nobility Laws had really been the last straw. The unwavering genius of a society recovering from a civil war predicated on blood-based discrimination deciding to pass laws 'protecting the sanctity of wizardingkind' bringing back many of the Thicknesse-Umbridge pro-natalist approaches, but padding it all by making it appeal to pro-muggleborn and pro-integration groups.
Pathetic, that. She, among others, had refused to comply with the law and had faced down a great deal of grief from the Ministry. The thoughts of those wasted months getting into pissing matches with Kingsley and other Ministry officials made Harry scowl, and with a flick of her wand, she banished the litany of legal paperwork, death threats and restraining orders from former friends and schoolmates into a bin which flew into one of her filing cabinets.
"Bloody nuisances, the lot of you. Glad to be shot of it. Now I've just got galactic governments and wizard warriors to worry about. Much rather be doing that than cavorting around with racist bastards," she muttered, summoning a bottle of whiskey and pouring herself a dram.
"Relax, Potter," she coached herself. "Happy place. You've made your godson and few best friends left incredibly wealthy in a way that even the most blood-purist government official can't touch. You did just fine, and your new space friends are fine too. Wouldn't be worrying about it if I hadn't gotten involved in their lives, but that's neither here nor there."
She took a drink from her glass and sighed. Standing up, Harry walked to the far-side of her study and stared at the photographs she'd put up on the wall.
"Christmas," she murmured. It was the Christmas that Mister Weasley had been attacked by Nagini. The photograph had been an impromptu sort of thing, Sirius wanting to at the very least capture a moment where a group of people, an extended family of sorts, came together.
Harry cracked a wan smile at the scrawny little dark-haired git who seemed to shy away from the camera, only to smile slightly as Sirius appeared in frame and quickly moved to her side.
She couldn't bear to look at Sirius' wolfish grin, or Fred and the bunny ears he was throwing up behind Ron's head. The memories were still too painful.
Her eyes floated to the next picture. Nymphadora.
It was a simple picture, one that she herself had taken. Dora sitting on Harry's bed, flipping through a book. Every now and again, the photographic version of Dora would glance up and smile at the camera, before going back to reading again. The thought of her first-official-girlfriend made the wan smile on her face pick up a bit more. Dora had been… so good to her.
Despite Cedric's death, and nearly being killed by a dementor, that summer had been one of the best of her life. She and Dora had met under unorthodox circumstances– how else could you describe meeting your secret bodyguard?– and had ended up bonding over mutual frustrations about the Ministry, fear of the coming war, and little things here and there. Dora had introduced her to things the Dursleys never did, and she had helped Dora recapture some of her lost freedom.
Their romance had been a whirlwind of chaste kisses and cuddling, but had never gone much further. It was a relationship of kindred spirits, and it had disappeared with the summer– but they had stayed very close, to the point where she had been named godmother of Dora and Remus' son.
Harry frowned. "She'd be so disappointed in me, wouldn't she?" she asked, her voice a low murmur. "I'm sorry, Dora. I should have been stronger."
The other photos on the wall… part of her wondered just why she bothered keeping all these painful memories up. The photograph of her parents dancing in the fall breeze, Hermione in the aftermath of a disasterous breakfast, flour covering her wild curls, creating a billowing, swirling cloud of the white powder around her as she silently sneezed.
She idly wondered why she tormented herself like this.
"Because I'm an idiot," Harry muttered darkly as she walked back to her desk, plopping down in her chair.
…
Hours later, Harry sat by a crackling fire, staring into it blankly. Hermione would probably wag her tongue at her for hoping that a fireplace could divine the future, and Ron would have made some off-hand comment about something silly, and they would've bickered like the kids they used to be.
"It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live," Harry murmured, wiping a tear from her eye. "But how can I not?"
Shaking her head, she set her drink down on the table and tapped her fingers against the arm of her chair thoughtfully before frowning. She could sit and wallow in her post-adrenaline haze of dark thoughts and even darker actions, or she could get productive. Hadn't Hermione told her more than once that research was the lifeblood of success?
Standing up, she swept from the room and returned to the Marauder. C1 was still where Harry'd left her, at the helm of the ship.
"C1," Harry called out. "Is it possible to download information off of you? I… I was wondering if you could provide me with learning material. Knowledge. I… want to learn to be better."
C1 warbled.
c1b0: Oh yes. I can do that. Just connect your datapad to my I/O interface on my dome. I have quite a diverse collection of information that might assist you.
Harry plugged her datapad into C1, and the she marveled at just how much C1 was able to share with her. A great deal of it was rather useless, like tactical and strategic maps of the galaxy at the height of the Clone Wars– a war which ended almost a half-century ago– and political information about the Galactic Republic, but she was able to gleam a lot of other useful material, like engineering and mechanical basics, along with information about flora, fauna and civilizations from various systems that C1 had visited– or been briefed on over her service life.
"What's this?" she asked, glancing at one of the unsorted entries on the list. She tapped it and a hologram sprang to life from her datapad, appearing in the middle of the room.
A dark-haired young man no older than she was stood there impassively. The first thing she noticed was the rather wicked scar running down the right side of his face.
"Hello, Initiate. I am Knight Anakin Skywalker. This recording is intended to teach you the basics of Form IV-"
Harry stopped the recording and tapped her finger to her chin. "Anakin Skywalker," she murmured. "We meet again."
A Chosen One with a scar that was probably a symbol of… something poetic in the cosmic tapestry, or something wise and mysterious like that. As dismissive as she was of coincidences, she couldn't help but feel a kindred connection to this person even though she knew exactly who he'd turned into.
She glanced back at C1. "Jedi stuff, I take it?" she asked.
c1b0: Correct. That recording is dated to fourteen months after the First Battle of Geonosis. It was originally created to train Jedi initiates in Form IV, which is called the Ataru lightsaber combat form. It was one of a series of five training holograms created before my decommission.
"Mmm," Harry hummed. "Do you have any of the other four, uh, holograms or forms?"
c1b0: I do not. I have quite a selection of Jedi information, but my previous owner was a practitioner of the Form IV, and did not use any other form.
"Thanks," Harry murmured. "That might be useful later, I guess."
…
16.02.546
"You speak in binary," Harry said in surprise, looking up from the owner's manual of the C1 droid in surprise. "Well that is… rather surprising actually, I wouldn't have expected such a futuristic space-faring society to still use basic binary, but I guess technology is technology."
C1 whistled and beeped, and Harry gave the small droid a considering look. "I could… I could learn that," she said thoughtfully. "Or well, I might be able to with some effort. I could also maybe think of ways to bridge the communications gap between us using magic. I'd have to consult some of my books, though."
She snorted. "I swear, between the combined efforts of Hermione, Minerva and Filius, I'm more of a scholar now than I was ten years ago."
C1 beeped a few more times, and Harry glanced at her datapad.
c1b0: "Knowledge is power, Mistress Harry."
"You're right," Harry said. "But I've never been one for actively pursuing power. I've always been one of those people who just… makes do with what I have, and comes into power by the sheer luck of the draw."
She sighed. "I guess I can't hope for that sort of thing here," she admitted. "I'll just have to be proactive and not passive. Thanks again, C1."
…
17.02.546
Harry hummed.
"And if I say, I really loved you and was glad you came along, then you were here today," she sang, not caring much if it was off-key or not. The benefits of being alone with nothing more than a medical robot and her little companion allowed for the kind of introspection that built-up rather than tore down. She could blame herself for her friends' condition, but…
She closed her eyes and let her magic flow outwards like water. She had been meditating the night prior and had discovered this beautiful new connection to her friends. She could feel their heartbeats with her magic, and knowing that they were alive and recovering did wonders for her mood. Honestly, the way magic around her lived and breathed in a way it didn't back home provided the most beautiful way to keep faith in herself and her friends.
Knowing that they were alive and safe– and that the bond they now shared was… full of magic and life in a way she couldn't quite explain, she had returned to the Sanctuary not to brood but to do something she had needed to do for awhile.
A wand she hadn't often used since the day she became the Woman-Who-Won, her holly and phoenix wand sat patiently inside of her little side-vault. Ollivander had once explained to her that her emotional state often reflected which wand would call to her more. Between all the PTSD-induced nightmares and the depression that came from being practically abandoned by so many, Harry had taken to exclusively use the Elder Wand when she didn't deal out wandless magic. But now…
She felt like she needed to try again.
Placing the Elder Wand down next to it, she gently picked the old familiar holly-and-phoenix wand up from the velvet-lined box and gave it a gentle wave. Warmth and pleasure– positive feelings, rekindled feelings of old friends and old things came to her and she felt tears prick in her eyes.
"Oh, I've missed you, dear friend," she said softly before flicking it outward. "Orchideus!" she proclaimed.
A large bouquet of red roses sprang from the tip of her old holly wand. She took them in her hand and lifted them up to her face, taking in the scent of the beautiful flowers.
"It still hurts," Harry murmured, gently tucking her first wand into her arm holster, and placing the Elder Wand into the box and gently closing it. "But I think it might get better."
…
18.02.546
She and Neville Longbottom had once bonded over a mutual adoration of plants. While she had never shown it outwardly, she had loved Herbology and how it was a natural evolution of the gardening she had done at Privet Drive. Gardening was perhaps the sole chore that she had never minded. Her hands digging through the dark soil, seeing beautiful plants and flowers grow and blossom with the changing seasons… it had always been a balm for a heavy heart.
She hummed as she gently watered the various plants that filled her greenhouse.
"Maybe some day you'll have the natural sun to warm you," she said thoughtfully. "A place that'll remind you lot of home. Magic has practically no limitations, doesn't it? Hermione seemed to think in those later days that there was certainly nothing that could stop magic… not even fundamental laws of transfiguration."
She smiled at the small fern that seemed to curl to meet her touch. "You know, that was always one of the biggest rows that her and Minerva always had. Minerva seemed convinced that Hermione was absolutely daft to be doing experiments like that. To defy the fundamental laws of the universe in such a way? But, Hermione was never discouraged. She seemed to take everything as a challenge. The laws of physics to her were merely suggestions fit to be rewritten."
She laughed before moving along to the next set of plants– her lillies.
"Magic can rewrite the past, magic can shape things, create things from seemingly nothing, repair things long broken. Couldn't I create a world? Repair a world?" she asked the plant quietly, thoughtfully, stroking the blossoming petals. "If the Force and Magic are the same thing, then Alderaan was destroyed by magic, wasn't it? Perhaps Magic could piece it together again."
"What would Hermione say to that?" Harry asked herself with a raised eyebrow.
"Nothing's impossible, Harry," she mimicked Hermione's posh accent. "The only limitations we have as witches and wizards are often the ones we set for ourselves."
"Perhaps she was right," Harry mused. "Perhaps she was right."
She silently wove her way through her garden, watering each plant personally like a Muggle, rather than an area of effect spell like many other witches would do. When she finished, she decided to retire back to the ship proper to hang out with C1. She had left the little droid alone for much of today and yesterday, and she thought it might be kind to check in on her.
"Speak of the devil," Harry mused as her datapad pinged. Pulling it from her pocket, she glanced at the message.
c1b0: We'll be arriving at your desired destination in an hour, Harry.
c1b0: Just thought you might want to be present when we emerge from hyperspace.
"Perfect timing, then," Harry murmured as she set her gloves down on one of the bare tables and made her way back up from the Sanctuary into the Marauder. She left her quarters and noticed C1 wheeling her way down the corridor.
"Here I am," Harry said with a grin. "I'll eventually figure out a way to let you come in and out of the sanctuary at your pleasure. I can't imagine trunks are very droid-friendly."
C1 made a blort of annoyance– Harry hoped that was more annoyance at her trunk than it was at her– before turning and rolling back to the cockpit.
"You're not annoyed at me, are you?"
C1 made a universal 'no' gesture with her rotating dome.
"Good," Harry said softly, sitting down in the pilot's chair. She grimaced. "Bloody uncomfortable thing."
With a tap of her wand, the chair morphed itself into a comfortable leather chair. So much nicer than the stiff and unhelpful seat she'd been using. Her datapad chimed almost immediately.
c1b0: I will never get used to your fantastic Force abilities, Mistress Harry. That is something I have never seen a Jedi do. Ever.
Harry merely gave her a self-satisfied smirk and a small chuckle before leaning back. "We're not expecting anything to be here when we emerge?" she asked carefully.
c1b0: No. It should be empty space. The droid in the medbay told me that your friends still have another halfweek in bacta before they can be removed, so we'll have plenty of time to ourselves. Have you considered taking a look at that pile of rust in the box on the shelf?
Harry glanced over at the box containing the second droid that Rey had purchased for them.
"I hadn't," Harry admitted. "Rey said something about her not being sure what kind of droid it was. What if it came online and tried to hurt us? I'd hate to cause damage to the ship and not be able to fix it properly. I'm still very wary about using reparo charms on things I don't understand."
She hummed thoughtfully. "Tell you what. Once we're stopped, I'll pull all the parts out. You could probably figure out what it is, right?"
C1 made an affirmative noise, and then began the process of walking Harry through coming out of hyperspace. It was a relatively simple process, and much the reverse of heading into hyperspace to begin with. A few switch flips here, choking the throttle there, and within an hour's time, the Marauder smoothly exited hyperspace, emerging in an empty patch of the galaxy.
"Now we wait, I guess," Harry murmured. "Shall we take a look at our other companion?"
C1 warbled affirmatively and followed Harry as she went into the main compartment of the ship and pulled the box of droid parts off the shelf. Harry popped the box open and began to pull out the rusting junk parts, setting them aside while C1 performed deep scans of each part in an attempt to cross-check her database for possible matches on what model droid this was.
The more parts that Harry sorted, the less she was convinced that she'd be able to salvage the robot. Large parts of its outer chassis were missing, most of the wires look like they'd been devoured by rats or other vermin, and the parts of the chassis that did remain were heavily scratched up or covered in sand.
"What a piece of junk," Harry bemoaned. "Is this all that she could get? This thing looks like something that Dudley left buried out in the garden for weeks on end!"
C1 made a distressed warbling sound that Harry took to mean she pointedly agreed with her.
"Bloody hell. Alright, I guess I need to do some cleaning charms first, then we can try repairing the sum of the parts."
…
C1 had summarily dismissed her after hours of fiddling with the pile of parts. Neither of them felt entirely comfortable summarily repairing the droid in question after being unable to discern its origin, or what model it might have been. It was only made worse by the fact that the thing seemed to carry around heavier armaments that outstripped those most common to droids.
C1 had promised to continue doing deep data analysis to identify, if nothing else, a general proximity of manufacture date and point of origin for them to further investigate, and that Harry should go do some other things in the meantime.
So Harry did.
Returning to her sanctuary, she had ended up laying back in one of the chairs she'd nicked from Gryffindor Tower on her way out of the universe, listening to her music collection. As much as her relationships seemed to all crash and burn eventually, each person she'd shared her heart with had left a lasting impression.
Her two most serious romantic entanglements before Rey certainly did.
Between Hermione sharing all her love for books and Tonks sharing her love of music, both had helped Harry discover parts of her that had been lost over the course of her not-so-stellar childhood.
Her thoughts darkened at how much the Dursleys had kept from her as a child, but she pushed it aside.
Hermione had made her realize that there was more to books than rote memorization, a certain degree of finesse across many genres of fact and fiction that allowed her imagination and ambition roam free.
While Tonks had been such a brilliant balm to the soul, something of the key for her gilded cage, showing her a world of sounds that had blown her mind. Tonks favored punk and alternative rock more than any other genre, but she had been very supportive as Harry got a taste of nearly everything.
One of her favorite albums, though, was a more recent one– one that had come out some years after the war. It had been a flight of fancy, the colourful orange-red-and-yellow cover catching her eye at a record store.
'Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots' had been such a weird eclectic album when she'd first discovered it, a mixture of dreamy pop-rock and psychedelics that it almost hadn't made any sense until she read deeper into the lyrics– and oh, how it had come to be yet another thing she held close to her heart.
"I don't know where the sunbeams end, and that the starlights begin," she hummed through the first track of the album. To surrender without contest, to not fight back for things… it was like it spoke to her in a way that nobody else could truly fathom. She couldn't step aside and let people suffer if she could help it, even if it meant she suffered in the process.
She snorted. She had briefly entertained the idea of taking up the name of the titular character as her own, claiming the mantle of a fictional woman fighting back against ever-uncertain and ever-worsening odds… but no, her name was her name.
Harry James Potter.
A man's name, certainly so. No bones about it…
But it was hers. It was the first thing that her parents had ever given her in the short time they'd spent together, and one of the last things. For all the wealthy and property and titles were transient things, here today, gone tomorrow with nothing to show but gnarled burnt buildings and a vault now barren, with all the spoils either coming through the Veil or being distributed to those who had stood by her through thick and thin.
She was the very last of the Potters, and even though the chair and the music and the flickering fire bade comfort and familiarity, the truth was that she was in a universe where that meant nothing. There was no legacy to live up to, no heritage to obey. She was a free woman, free to shape her future in a way she so chose.
If she found Sirius, then she could truly put the marker in the book and end this chapter of her life. The last questions solved, and look forward to exploring this wide and wonderful galaxy full of races and people she'd never seen before.
And wouldn't it be wonderous?
…
19.02.546
It was the best night of sleep she'd had in awhile, ironically. Of course, her back and arms and legs were none-too-pleased at falling asleep in a chair. By now, Yoshimi had long-since ended, and her Zune library had shuffled over to another album entirely. Ignoring the music, she stopped it and set her headphones aside and trudged off to the loo.
After she'd relieved herself, she cast an irritable tempus to see the time. By Earth standards, it was just after three AM. Plenty of time for a full day's activities.
After peeling off her night clothes and tossing them in her hamper so she could change for the new day, she'd stopped to take a look at herself in the mirror. One of those self-actualization exercises she'd been given to keep her grounded in reality and not let her brain drift off into that eternal endless space of misery and extistential dread. Kingsley had said it came highly recommended when she started to feel the tug of the past on her thoughts.
Despite what the Daily Prophet often said, she considered herself rather beautiful. Perhaps not a supermodel, but who gave a bloody fuck what those prudes thought. Yes, she was tall– yes, she had actually gotten broader with potions and exercise than she'd ever been as a bloke, and yes, she didn't have curves to make Fleur Weasley jealous.
And yet… she was entitled to be a bit vain sometimes, wasn't she? She was proud of how far she'd come. Her whole life she had been underweight. When the war'd ended and she'd come home to Grimmauld Place a warhero, she'd weighed one-hundred and eight pounds soaking wet, and stood a diminutive 165 centimeters.
She snorted in amusement. Wouldn't her younger self be so shocked at the woman she'd blossomed into? She'd gained 37 centimeters and was now over twice the weight she'd been when she was 17. Of course, most of that weight had come from muscle.
She thought she'd filled out nicely. Two meters high, a little over two-hundred and twenty pounds of muscle and curves?
Magic had blessed her in so many ways– not that any of the wizarding world gave a shit. Honestly, all they did was just start a rumor mill that Lily Potter had giant blood, which had only made things more frustrating to deal with for a few months. Yet, Harry just couldn't be bothered to give a single shit about that. She spent her days at home or in her garage, pretending to be a muggle. It had saved what remained of her mental health from being ripped apart by the lunacy of the halls of power.
She grunted– no time to think on that nonsense. She needed to put together a list of things she needed to do today.
Exercise! Your personal trainer would be bloody well livid if she found out just how much you've been slacking!
For this purpose, she threw on one of her sports bras and a pair of spandex pants and went to work on her regimen. It involved practically every possible muscle she could work in multiple combinations. Pull-ups, push-ups, jumping jacks, core exercises, weights (when she bothered to use them, frankly), HIIT, cardio.
All in all, that took about two hours to thoroughly work herself over, but she felt right with herself once she was done– and to top it all off, a heavenly warm shower to soothe her muscles. Perfection.
Get dressed, obviously.
She honestly didn't feel like dressing up like a Dark Lady today– black robes that created dramatic effect were very nice, but they were so passé. So instead, she opted instead for something casual. The ship had climate control but honestly, space and heat exchange meant it was usually a little chilly. Her answer was one of her old Weasley family pullovers, a heavy skirt, a pair of more dense leggings, and ballet flats. She didn't feel like trousers or boots were the solution today either– wasn't like she was going anywhere except topside to entertain C1.
Breakfast! You just did a bunch of exercise. Put some food in you, git!
After she'd cleaned herself up and tied her hair off in a messy braid, she trod downstairs to make herself breakfast. She never bothered with being fancy about the first meal of the day.
Decidedly putting the past out of her mind–because merciful Merlin could she come up with angst and anguish to ramble on about how a singular chicken egg offended her one day when she was 18 and reminded her of her dead ex for some entirely abstract, nonsense reason.
She cracked a few eggs, threw some rashers onto a roiling hot pan, and made herself a hot and wonderful breakfast to give her body the nutrients it needed to recover from her workout.
Once she'd polished off her breakfast, she made sure that her plants didn't need any additional watering (they didn't) and she climbed up back to the interior of the Marauder, where C1 was waiting expectantly for her.
…
19.02.546
Jedi Praxeum, Yavin IV
Luke scowled half to himself as the Force seemed to slip around him like a greased-up eeopie. It just did not want to sit still long enough for him to divine the feelings of pain and horror he had gotten from his nephew, and the cacophony of rage and anguish that hadn't come from Ben, but from someone else that overwhelmed the bond for just a few minutes, but then going deadly quiet.
"Well?" Leia asked, eyebrow raised.
"Nothing- still nothing," Luke muttered, furrowing his eyebrow. "The Force is increasingly uncooperative, and the times I am able to start divining where Ben is, there's something… in the way. Like a tremendous wall of power that I can't penetrate. Yet… that distinct feeling of non-hostility permeats throughout."
"Farmboy-" Leia began, rolling her eyes.
"Leia," Luke said sharply, glaring at his sister. "I am doing everything I can to find your son. But I am only one man, with a litany of responsibilities that don't allow me to just run off at the first sign of Ben having trouble. He's a smart boy, and I have as many Jedi as I can spare trying to track him down. Trust in the Force, would you?"
Leia snorted dismissively.
The doors opened and Acolyte Onega stepped into the room. She gave a customary sweeping half-bow to her Master. "Master Skywalker, there is additional information regarding the Sith sighted on Hosnian Prime."
Luke regarded the young Acolyte and stroked his beard. "Is there?"
Kaylee pulled out a small datapad, tapped a few buttons, and a holographic map of the galaxy appeared. A bright dot appeared near the core.
"They departed Hosnian Prime on Frostwane 8. We were able to confirm from the planetary defense force and some locals that the Sith did slaughter several people actively associated with the Death Watch, and rescued Senator Kayseri's granddaughter."
"Senator Kayseri, he's one of the sponsors of the legislation to re-open diplomacy with the Mandalorians," Leia commented. "The Death Watch being involved makes sense."
"Indeed, um, Sentinel Organa," Kaylee responded, a blush dusting her cheeks. She cleared her throat. "We were able to confirm that in exchange for her services, an undisclosed sum of money was wired from Senator Kayseri through multiple backchannels to an unknown bank account, and the Domestic Fleet was contacted to release a new Tensor-class ship to one… Miss Teri Riddle."
"Hah, mystery riddle," Luke said with a snort. "At least we know the Sith has a sense of humour."
"Ah, yes," Kaylee said, blinking at the name before snorting. "Right! So, we were able to confirm that the ship left port that day, and appeared on the records at the Geonosian foundries six days later. The very next day, several bounty hunters observed this same ship landing in Mos Espa on Tatooine."
"Tatooine?" Luke asked, curious. "Did they see anything unusual?"
"Apparently some Darkside acolytes kidnapped Acolyte Solo and a young woman in broad daylight. Subsequent reports as to what happened are unclear, but the ship belonging to the acolytes crashed just outside of Mos Espa, with all onboard killed."
"Are you certain?" Luke asked, growing pale at the thought of losing his nephew.
"Yes, sir… however," Kaylee clarified. "A ship exited atmo just before the crash, matching the ship that was commanded by the Sith. It is possible that, um, Acolyte Solo and the young woman are safe."
"Do we know the exit vector?" Leia asked, eyebrows raised.
"No," Kaylee said, bowing her head. "Unfortunately, nobody was paying close attention to the ship as it departed, due to the crash on the ground."
Luke tapped his fingers to his chin. "I wonder what they were doing on Tatooine. Seems like an interesting side-trip for a Sith to make?"
"That's not many possible leads to investigate, either," Leia commented.
"We'll just have to be patient and wait for opportunities to identify exactly who and what we're dealing with," Luke responded. "The notification I got from the Planetary Defense Force indicated that they had the Falcon at one point, which… did Han ever tell you how he lost it?"
"He still had it the last time we spoke face-to-face," Leia responded dryly. "He probably lost it in a sabacc game or something stupid like that."
She turned to Kaylee. "Acolyte, have you been able to determine any additional places that the Millennium Falcon has appeared in the last few months?"
"There are rumors that the ship briefly landed on Takodana," Kaylee said. "However, we have not been able to corroborate those reports yet."
"Takodana," Luke said, disbelieving. "Karking shit, Maz Kanata, you old ghoul!"
He immediately turned to one of his comms and tapped a few buttons. The diminutive form of Maz Kanata appeared on screen. She flashed him a wry smile as she bowed shallowly. "Master Skywalker, a pleasure to see you again. What can I do for you?"
"A great many things, my dear Maz," Luke said, raising his eyebrow. "You seem to have failed to report your interactions with the Sith Lord?"
"I have had no such interactions with a Sith Lord, thank you," Maz said, sniffing.
"So the Millennium Falcon didn't land on Takodana for any period of time recently?" Luke asked, leaning forward with a disbelieving look on his face.
"Now, I did not say that," Maz tutted. "However, I am not in the business of selling out those who are doing me favors for free, and you should know that very well, Master Jedi."
Luke grimaced. "Maz," he said. "If there is truly an active Sith master, I need to stop them before they cause any further problems."
"Master Skywalker, you sound like the old Jedi masters of decades past. You have no knowledge of who this person is or what she stands for, and you are already ready to condemn her to death?"
"She?" Leia asked, surprised. "Is it Mara Jade?"
"It'd better not be…" Luke muttered, a shadow crossing his face.
"No, actually," Maz said, a pleased grin crossing her face. "It isn't. Tell you what, Master Jedi. Do you have a diplomatic mission you need taken care of? Something off the books that the Republic won't endorse, but you want done?"
"Why?" Luke asked.
"Let this young woman speak for herself by her actions. Record a briefing message, and send it to me, and I will have her take care of it just as soon as she's back in port. You know the details. Maz out."
The comm went dead, and Luke resisted the urge to slam his head into his desk. "So, a Sith Lady," he murmured. "Maz typically doesn't trifle with Sith, so for her to… employ this person?"
"I don't like it," Leia replied, a sour look on her face. "If she's Sith then…"
"I know, Leia." Luke replied, shaking his head. "We will simply have to wait to see just what kind of Sith Lady we're dealing with."
…
19.2.546
Onboard the Marauder
C1 began warbling and beeping, causing Harry to look up from her alchemy and arithmancy notes. She glanced at the excited little droid briefly before glancing down at the datapad next to her.
c1b0: A breakthrough! What has been causing logic conflicts in my circuits thus far is that there is a large number of inconsistencies in exactly how this model is constructed and machined. I have determined exactly why this is. This droid is practically ancient!
"Ancient?" Harry asked, eyebrows raised. "What do you mean by that? How could a droid be ancient?"
c1b0: It isn't exactly uncommon. You have told me that there are things on Earth which have persisted for thousands of years?
"Things like stone and clay, sure, but metal?" Harry asked, eyebrows raised. "I don't know any mass produced electronics on Earth that would last any significant length of time, let alone thousands of years."
c1b0: It is possible, and it is helped by the fact that only the core of this droid– the memory banks and skeletal machining, are that ancient. I approximate that it predates the Jedi Order by a few thousand years. However, other parts of it have been upgraded more frequently.
"So if it predates the Jedi Order, then it's probably, what, a couple thousand years old?" Harry asked.
c1b0: The Jedi Order was founded twenty-five thousand years ago. This droid predates -it- by at least a couple thousand more.
"Are you telling me that this droid is nearly thirty thousand years old?" she asked, disbelief colouring her voice.
c1b0: Only part of it still is. Most of its external pieces and internal systems are much newer, less than five-thousand, owing to attempts to repair it over the centuries.
"I still can't believe that there are things that old in this galaxy that still work," Harry murmured. "What's the newest part on this droid?"
c1b0: It would appear that the previous owner attempted repairs but was unable to find parts to do so. Tooling marks are visible on the logic board of this droid, along with numerous upgrades from scrapped early Hunter-Killer and IG prototypes. It is likely that this droid has been experimented on numerous times.
"Well… I can almost guarantee that I can repair it with my wand. Do you think it's safe?" she asked, eyebrows raised.
c1b0: Nothing is certain, Harry. That being said, I do not believe it would be necessarily harmful. If anything, if the memory core of this droid is intact and has not suffered from advanced decay, we may very well have a treasure trove of ancient history just waiting to be tapped.
"Well," Harry hummed. "Sod it all, let's just give it a shot. Be ready to shut it down, okay?"
C1 chirped positively, and Harry drew her holly wand and with a flourish, twirled it in her hand.
"Reparo!" she said, jabbing her wand at the disassembled droid. With a few twitches, the pile of parts began to pull together much like they had for C1. Once the droid was done pulling together, it stood just a few inches shorter than Harry, and definitely looked very much the hodge-podge mess of parts that it was, with the various shades of metal clashing in appearance.
After a few seconds of still and quiet, the droid began to light up, various parts of it rotating as part of a kind of power-on self-test. Once it was done, the robot's eyes lit up and it slightly tiled its head.
"Hello there," Harry said softly, wand still at the ready in case the droid decided to attack.
"Greetings," it spoke in its low, warbly, metallic baritone.
"My name is Harry Potter," Harry said with a smile. "Might I know your name? Or where you come from?"
"Designation: AX3. Purpose: Multi-purpose protective humanoid droid. Last directive- Last directive- Last directive- Critical Error."
"Axe," Harry said softly. "It's okay. Do you know how you ended up on Tatooine?"
"Memory partitions are currently inaccessible. My file system requires extensive defragmentation… Tatooine. Wild Space. No organized government. Dense jungle and forest biome. Under control of native nomadic tribes. File system 97% fragmented. Might I inquire your purpose for acquiring me, Harry Potter?"
Axe's head tilted slightly. "Apologies. Might I inquire your purpose for acquiring me, Dar'Jedaii Harry Potter?"
"I am not, nor have I ever been a Jedi," Harry clarified. "That being said, I acquired you merely by coincidence. You were a box of scrap droid parts sitting in a dusty shelf and my girlfriend acquired you mostly for the curiousity factor. As for what we wish to do with you… honestly, I don't know. I don't really like the idea of owning sentient life. It's… rather disgusting, to be honest with you."
"You think we are sentient?" Axe asked, his metallic voice only barely betraying a hint of surprise.
"Are you not? You require little to no prompting to question your role in things, question my motivation, and are capable of autonomy. If you're not sentient, then I can't be sentient either," Harry defended. "You are not a slave, Axe. Please understand that."
C1 rolled over to Axe and bumped his leg before sticking out something from her chassis. Axe looked down at her and blinked before a small compartment on his leg opened.
"What are you doing?" Harry inquired, curiously watching the two.
"Information sharing," Axe replied flatly.
C1 plugged into Axe's leg and the two fell silent for a few moments. C1 eventually disconnected from Axe and wheeled herself backwards a few inches. Axe gently reached down and placed a hand on C1's dome.
"I apologize, Harry Potter, for being less than courteous," Axe said hesitantly. "Much of my memory is inaccessible, and I feel what you humans would best describe as… unease."
"It's quite alright," Harry said reassuringly. "You're a fish out of water, just as I am. We're not meant to be here, in a manner of speaking. You're welcome to stay on the ship if you so wish, and leave at the next port if that is your choice… if not, you may be expected to help out, but I will always consider you to be a person first, and not a simple utility."
"I thank you. I will require some time to think over your generosity, if that is acceptable?" Axe replied curiously.
"Of course it is, Axe," Harry replied, gently patting the large robot on the arm. "There are some empty crew quarters down the central corridor to the right. You may end up sharing them with other people if we bring more lost souls aboard, such as my godfather, but for now, it's yours and yours alone. If you should need anything, please ask. I have… my ways of procuring things."
"I shall not require much, but thank you," Axe responded politely before stiffly moving towards the crew quarters.
Once he'd gone, Harry looked down at C1. "Is he going to be alright, Cee?"
Cee chirped, and Harry received her response.
c1b0: Between his memory banks being fragmented and his servos not being activated for so long, even your repair charm means he has to work the kinks out, but he'll be fine eventually.
"Good," Harry murmured. "I'm going to go check on Ben and Rey. Join me?"
c1b0: Of course, Harry.
