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Chapter 4: The Least Obvious Danger

"Captain," the shadowy figure said, their voice reverberating through the room even via the commlink. "I have need of your ship in my mission for the Emperor. Have a hangar ready and hold station for my arrival. I will not be requiring a reception committee."

It was a tense twenty minutes for Captain Lilstrand, waiting as he was for what might as well have been a live bomb. These agents were widely known to suss out even the smallest bit of dissent, which commonly lead to some unfortunate officer simply disappearing off of the face of the galaxy, never to be seen again. At least, that was what the hushed whispers were said that were bandied about whenever a large enough group of senior officers came together; one could always expect such gatherings to have a vivid amount of gossip. That and political backstabbing.

When, with the announcement of the lieutenant on duty in the bridge pit, it became clear that their visitor was on final approach, the captain rose with a sigh and made his way to the turbolift shaft. From the command deck, the car took him to a secondary hangar, large enough for shuttles and other such craft, even light freighters, but suspiciously empty of life. He suspected, and if that was true, then he would have to thank the officer in charge here, later, that whoever was manning the secondary bridge had cleared it out. Apparently, the Bastion's onboard rumour mill had performed quite admirably, once again.

Before the backdrop of space, he could now see the predatory silhouette of a VT-49 Decimator. In a way, it was the perfect ship for an important intelligence operative; sleek, yet easily able to defend itself, while also being so much more inconspicuous than some of the interstellar behemoths the Empire had the ability to field. In fact, a good few of the more competent members of his bridge crew had, over the years, gone on to command such a craft.

In almost complete silence, the grey ship settled down on the polished hangar floor, and with a barely audible hiss, one of the side ramps was lowered. Out stepped the shadowy figure the captain had already seen on his viewscreen, the long black cloak obscuring everything but the manic, orange-glowing eyes. On his heels followed a pair of storm commandoes, encased in their sleek black armour, blaster rifles held to their chests. Lilstrand had no doubts these two would be ready to shoot at a moment's notice, and for the slightest perceived threat. For the time between two seconds, the Emperor's enforcer matched his gaze, and it felt like being laid bare.

"Take us to a secure meeting room," the agent, he had yet to say exactly who he was, ordered, already striding past the veteran commander like he knew where he could find such a room. In fairness, he probably did. So, pushing down on his indignation that this man, as much was clear, even through the robes and the somewhat distorted voice, was just presuming he had the authority to command him around on his ship, the captain followed behind and adopted the stance he usually would whenever confronted with an admiral or some other member of the flag ranks.

"Your visit honours us. May I ask your name, sir?" he simpered, growing mildly sick at hearing his own voice like this. Still, it was a skill you acquired in the Imperial military if you wanted some form of prolonged tenure that did not include command of a garbage barge.

"You may call me Inquisitor Malleus," the man replied without breaking stride. "And if you take that obnoxious tone again, I will personally see to it that you end up commanding a cargo hauler for the rest of your life."

The captain did his best not to both gulp and sigh in relief within the same breath; a cargo hauler was a step above a garbage barge to be sure, but still not something to be desired, nonetheless, especially if a higher-up really hated your guts. After all, unescorted cargo shipments tended to be prime targets for pirates or Alliance privateers (not that there was much of a difference in many cases), and the sudden reallocation of an escorting flotilla could easily be orchestrated. The sigh of relief was merely in the realisation that he would not have to kowtow for however long the Inquisitor remained on his ship, which was a massive burden off his shoulder. He never liked hearing himself while he did it.

"Of course," he therefore replied, hoping he now sounded much more neutral, more business-like. Maybe, if the agent simply wanted to get done with his mission and begone, it was not so bad, after all.

However, it was when they finally reached the conference room, hermetically sealed and without any recording devices (that he knew of, at least, meaning there probably was something occasionally monitored by some ISB staffer), that the real surprise happened. They had barely crossed the threshold and the door had closed, before the 'Inquisitor' diligently lowered his hood to reveal… a completely normal, human face with somewhat wild, black hair and shining green eyes.

"Let me reintroduce myself," the young man said, matter-of-factly, like he had not just turned from a frightening danger into a deeply confusing conundrum. "The name is Harry Potter, and we're here to steal your ship. You want in on that?"

OOOOOOOO

"What the hell?" the 'storm commando next to Harry exclaimed, just as he finished his reintroduction with the obviously befuddled Imperial captain. If it had not been clear before then, now it was most definitely obvious they were not members of the military, as the wizard found it hard to imagine any stormtrooper, let alone their elite commandoes, would curse while on duty. "What are you doing, Boss?"

"Oh, I am taking an opportunity when I see it," he replied, looking back at the officer, who had yet to move. "You're not all that happy with the Empire, right? Don't like what it does to people? Alderaan was not the work of people working for the best of the galaxy, was it?"

Numbly, the captain nodded. "Well, then today's your lucky day," Harry continued. "We can help you desert, set you up wherever you want, and the Empire would never be able to find out."

"I don't want to help the Rebellion," Captain Lilstrand, finally having found his voice again, protested in a knee-jerk reaction. "They're just like the Separatists; chaotic terrorists."

"Freedom and chaos or order and subjugation, that's the choice at this time. Maybe we can find some kind of balance between those later on, but for now, those are the options," the wizard replied dispassionately. "Luckily, you don't have to choose, right now; we're taking the ship regardless. The only difference would be what you get out of it. And if your conscience tells you to fight this, remember that you will, at some point, be forced to do something against your conscience if you stay in Imperial service, too. At least this way, there's fewer lives depending on it."

By now, the officer was visibly wracking his brain for what he would consider the right reason, and Harry actively decided to not interfere. If this was something he wanted to happen, he could not rush the man. Also, it was not like they really needed him at all, just like he had said; the override codes would easily be attainable by simply picking them out of the old veteran's mind. Yet, if he had the objective of freeing people, giving them a new chance out of the Empire's grasp, he might as well start on this one.

'This one', as it turned out, seemed to actually be willing to get help; sure, looking into the man's mind earlier, loathe as he still was to do it, Harry had seen his disgruntlement with Imperial policy over the years, but questioning your entire belief system of over twenty years? That took courage. And so, when the man added words to expression, then let actions follow, the team of three that had opted to be the visible part of their infiltration, was happily surprised.

"What do you want me to do?" Lilstrand questioned, even as he was starting to gather what looked like datapads and code cylinders out of a safe in the back wall of the briefing room. "There's over three thousand people aboard this ship, so I'm sure you have some kind of plan. You don't strike me as the unprepared type."

"Oh, we do," Harry replied amusedly, hiding the slight twitch of suspicion. He would have to keep an eye on this captain; the man seemed too willing to go along with them, way too quickly. "Let me contact my team, tell them the circumstances have changed."

While the captain (the bounty hunter captain, not the Navy one) was on the communicator, he kept an open ear pointed toward the conversation between his crew and the other captain.

"So, you're… Rebels?" Lilstrand questioned, audibly unsure; or possibly just a better actor than Harry would have given him credit for. Maybe another legilimency probe was indeed called for.

"No, we're not Rebels… at least, we don't belong to the Alliance," Corsek, who had obviously taken his Boss' announcement as enough of a reason to disclose some more information, especially if it was likely to at least not push away the possible asset they had just stumbled upon any further. "We work with them sometimes, but mostly, we just want to be left alone and help others, who want the same."

Finishing up his conversation with Iabaes, she had assumed command of the disillusioned group of infiltrators, Harry turned his attention back to the awkward silence going on between the Imperial officer and his two companions.

"Alright, the others are waiting for our go-ahead," he announced, keeping to himself that he had, wary as he was still of their new ally, ordered the Mandalorian to keep listening in on what was going on his end of their comms connection; that way, if they were somehow led into an ambush, at least someone would know. "We were planning to introduce a sleeping gas into the ventilation system and only need to separate the stormtroopers, first; their helmets filter any airborne anaesthetic."

"I can call in the stormtrooper commander," the captain offered, a slight tremor to his voice. Whether that was because things were becoming worryingly serious or due to the fact that he was becoming increasingly committed to working with people who had openly told him of their defiance toward the Empire, Harry was unable to tell.

"Do that," the wizard instructed, though not with the same tone of command he would likely take with a member of his own crew, polite as that might have been most of the time. No, this person would call for a bit more… tact. "I will reapply my disguise and you will order him and his men to the hangar, where my ship landed. Got it?"

Lilstrand nodded, though he was by now getting visibly nervous; Harry was internally debating, whether hitting the man with a cheering charm might be a good idea, or whether anyone seeing him sweat a bit might just assume it was because of the scary Inquisitor that had taken over the ship. Eventually, the wizard decided he like the latter idea better; a twitchy officer was far more believable in this situation than a calm one. Another silence settled over the group of four, uneasy and awkward as the last one had been. Iabaes had already announced that people were in place for their ambush as well as in the central ventilation control rooms, meaning there really was nothing to do right that moment, and if there was one thing Harry knew about himself, it was waiting around, doing nothing.

Finally, after almost ten minutes spent standing around, the chime announcing someone wishing to enter the secured briefing, sounded, prompting the captain to revoke the lockdown and wave the other officer inside. In walked a rather tall man, his strong but lean physique somehow both accentuated as well as hidden by the Empire's close-cut, stiff uniforms, the black officer's cap settling atop a bald head; piercing grey eyes rounded out the picture, and Harry could imagine this man would have been able to get quite a few prisoners to talk by his mere presence.

"Captain," the stormtrooper officer said distastefully, once again reminding the disguised intruder on the other side of the table how little Navy personnel and these people thought of each other. "You had me called. I hope this is important."

Thinking it wise to intervene before things got too snappish, Harry did exactly that. "Watch your tongue lest I remove it for your insolence, trooper," he stated menacingly, even as he sent at the soldier a small charm to make him just a tad more susceptible to suggestions; not a compulsion, more a general open-ness. "I have need of you in my service to the Emperor; you will convene all the stormtroopers on this ship at the hangar in which I landed, within twenty minutes."

By now, the young wizard had stood up, all the while indicating for his two companions to stay, not quite ready to expect unwavering loyalty from the Imperial captain. "Do not make me wait.

With that, he swished out of the door.

OOOOOOOO

On his way to the Bastion's mess hall, the cook's assistant, a new recruit they had taken up only a few months prior, noted an unusual occurrence; from one moment to the other, all the stormtroopers usually on duty watching the vital parts of the ship, most notably the reactor room, which he had passed on the way, had somehow just up and left, a most egregious breach of protocol. As per his orders, the secret ones only few people knew about, an austere group that definitely did not include the captain of the ship he was assigned to oversee, he immediately sprang into action and began investigating these suspicious goings-on.

Even as he prepared to leave his official post, he muttered, "Long live the Empire!"

OOOOOOOO

The small contingent of stormtroopers assigned to the medium cruiser, or rather the base it was supposed to erect on some backwater in the Outer Rim, had congregated inside the secondary hangar now occupied by the 'Inquisitor's' ship. From what Harry could see, it looked like a standard company, 128 soldiers plus change. Nothing he and his crew would be able to face with a realistic chance of winning in any fair battle.

Luckily, or unluckily, depending on your side in the whole issue, he had learned long ago that an overreliance on the concept of fairness when even only one other player refused to adhere to it was a weakness one could scarcely afford when there was a lot riding on the outcome of whatever situation one found oneself in. Therefore, the party of infiltrators had little interest in doing anything remotely as stupid as playing fair; instead, they would simply use the refined version of the stun grenades that had seen their first real-life test on the former Republic station in the Corellian system months ago.

Only a few seconds had passed after the troops had lined up before the two captains (not that the stormtroopers knew of the second one), before all around, the small charges Harry had enchanted were rolling into their ranks and detonating among them, leading to dozens collapsing with each successful attack. With that first onslaught, less than ten remained standing, only to be quickly felled by blaster shots hitting their gleaming white armour. They would survive, as much was sure with these plates, designed as they were to absorb and spread energy, but they were definitely out for the count.

"Very good," the wizard announced, just as he was becoming visible again. "Remove their gear and bind them."

While the attendant part of boarding team was now getting to work on his order (barely visible as they still were, yet all of them wearing the small transmitters the Alliance had cooked up for just such an operation that made it possible to track everyone's whereabouts), Harry returned his attention to their unexpected ally.

"You should put on your mask, now," he informed the other captain wryly, looking pointedly upward to where he knew the ventilation shafts to be. "Unless you want to take a nap as well, obviously."

Hurriedly, the Imperial officer accepted the breathing mask and oxygen tank he was being offered, strapped it over the lower half of his face and nodded to indicate his readiness. This confirmation was all Harry needed, before sending the agreed upon signal that would soon have the entire cruiser flood with soporific gas and deactivate its entire complement of droids, curtesy of the captain's override codes. Though it had pained him to do so, each of these crucial tasks had only been assigned to a team of two, with everyone else they could scrounge together and then put onboard the Decimator-transport on 'stormtrooper knockout' duty.

"Captain, do you have any family?" Harry asked nonchalantly, even as the invisible anaesthetic was beginning to flood the air in concentrations that would have everyone not wearing protective equipment out in moments. After thinking a bit on what he had said, the wizard realised how his question could have been understood and moved to clarify, "If you have any, it might be good to let people think you were a bit abducted and not a… let's say willing collaborator. We could easily make it look like you were forced to help us and then we took you with us for intelligence purposes."

Now looking more appreciative rather than apprehensive, the old veteran shook his head. "No, always married to the military," the man replied pensively, while gazing over the stunned group of stormtroopers on the hangar floor. "What will happen to the crew?"

"Those that want to, can join us or the Alliance, those who don't we'll set down on some remote planet with enough supplies to last them a while, then we'll give the Empire an anonymous tip," Harry explained, already expecting the outcome of this unusual recruitment drive to be somewhat similar to the one they had done when taking over the Lightbringer: the lower the rank, the more likely a defection and, as was corroborated by anyone he had cared to ask, stormtroopers never deserted, on a general basis. Accordingly, the stormtroopers would be the first people to be brought onto a planetary surface, without ever being woken up, to boot.

"R3," the younger of the two men called up the ramp of the VT-49, prompting one of the squat droids to roll down from the vessel, "Go to the bridge with Captain Lilstrand and make that jump we agreed upon, alright? The rendezvous point."

A few beeps confirmed understanding on the part of the droid and, with the knowledge that one of the still disillusioned troops would follow them to the bridge, Harry concentrated on the seemingly insurmountable task of processing the thousands of captives. Oh, jolly.

OOOOOOOO

When the cook's assistant came to, he was back in his quarters, along with all of the other enlisted serving with him. As more and more of them were waking up, two things were rapidly becoming obvious to the ISB mole: one, there was something very wrong on this ship, and two, directly supporting the first point, they were all shackled to their bunks.

Slowly, the fuzzy memories were now coming back…

Yes, something had been wrong, with all of the stormtroopers called back for something major, what exactly, he did not know…

Rumours that one of those amateurs from Imperial Intelligence, important enough to warrant halting the operations on an entire cruiser had arrived…

And now this?

He did not know, how long it was he was held like that, the only way to gauge the passage of time being the meals the guards provided. Whatever the case might have been it was clear the ship was in danger of leaving Imperial control, if it had not already done so and his orders, if such a thing were to occur, were clear. Before the young man had much time to think about ways to achieve his goal, the door of the ten-person dorm slid open with a barely audible swish and once again in strode two men in simple tan uniforms, their shoulders bearing the hated symbol of the Rebel Alliance. Before his eyes, the two soldiers released the bindings of a fellow enlisted of his, at least those binding him to the bunk, and led him out of the room.

He would have tried instigating some kind of uprising with his fellow prisoners, had he not known how utterly ridiculous that was; none of the men he was serving the New Order with had enough backbone to fight even favourable odds, let alone what they now found themselves in. Not even the higher-ups would, they were more about status than loyalty. Oh, how he despised them and their little ways of treason, the treason they committed by not giving the Empire their all, by putting their own lives before the well-being of the entire galaxy. Regardless, he would gladly lay down not only his own life but those of everyone on this entire damn ship if it kept Imperial possessions out of the hands of these… terrorists. They would all make the sacrifice, willingly or not.

Incrementally, the young man watched as each of his so-called comrades was led away, no doubt to be interrogated by whatever cruel method this particular cell of Rebel scum favoured. Proud as he was of his loyalty to the Empire, he knew that, should he reach wherever they were being taken, he would eventually crack, the only chance of doing his duty lost. Therefore, when it was his turn, he pretended to be a good little prisoner, like all the other cowards and then, when they were inside the corridor he sprang into action.

The two guards at his sides, completely surprised by the actions of who they had assumed to be a mere kitchen helper, could do little, as the young man drove a foot into the first's knee from the side, audibly snapping something inside, even over the soldier's screams of pain. The second one, to his credit, reacted immediately, pulled out his blaster pistol and… sank to the ground, wheezing for air after having his windpipe crushed by the ISB mole. The only man left standing of the three paid him no mind, as he began searching the first guard's pockets for the key to the cuffs.

Now, rid of that impediment, he was off to fulfil the mission he had been intrusted with.

OOOOOOOO

Once again clad in a mask to hide his features, Harry Potter was sitting opposite the… fortieth, maybe fiftieth prisoner he had interviewed that day. It was hard to keep track of, though by far not as bad as it sounded. Generally, the time he would spend on one was rather short, only asking the person he was talking to, whether they wanted to desert and join either him or the Alliance. Only if someone took him up on the offer and agreed to the stipulations did the veritaserum come out.

At first, the wizard had balked at the idea of questioning such an incredible number of people under truth serum, both from an ethical and a logistics standpoint. However, when those that were put under the effect were all agreeing to it willingly, being clearly informed that they would face no repercussions from simply refusing to join, the moral standpoint seemed moot. As for the logistical perspective, he had simply never considered how ridiculously small a volume three drops of something actually were, when using the kind of material with which potioneers tended to work. Therefore, even with the largest dropper he had remembered being used, a single millilitre of fluid was enough to make three people surprisingly talkative, and the litre of cauldron he had prepared would have easily sufficed to dose the entire crew, not that it was necessary.

"Field Mechanic Mil'gram, are you happy with your posting or could we maybe interest you in leaving the Empire, especially after the heinous crime it committed against the people and planet of Alderaan?" he questioned the young woman sitting on the opposite side of the table almost mechanically. After already dealing with this for a day and a half, it really was hard to continue and feign enthusiasm; at least he had gotten Leia's permission to cite her homeworld's fate as a strike against their opponents. "You would be welcome in both my own group, where we simply strive to create a place out of the Emperor's grasp for those who want to live in peace and freedom, as well as the Alliance to Restore the Republic. Not accepting any of these two propositions will not have you treated any worse, you will be set free regardless, while accepting either will require an interview under a truth…"

"Boss, we have a problem," Harry was interrupted by Arden, who stormed into the small, repurposed former officer's quarter that now served as one of ten interview rooms that had been set up along the corridor.

"Excuse me, take your time to think about the possibilities," he smiled at the befuddled young woman he had been talking to/at before the disruption, before stepping out onto the corridor. "What is it?"

"One of the teams that was supposed to bring in another prisoner has not called in, and one of the patrols found them in a corridor, prisoner and one blaster pistol missing," the witch informed him in efficient, clipped tones.

"Have you strengthened the guards at the most vulnerable parts of the ship?" Harry questioned, immediately keyed up, shaken from the monotony that was an entire morning of questioning Imperials. "Primary and secondary bridge, reactor, hangar?"

Arden nodded sharply. "Every Alliance guard team has one of our crew members to command them and is under strict orders to stay together and stay put; no investigating anything, just guarding what they're supposed to guard."

"Good," the captain commented simply, listening to the execution of the standing orders he had issued after their infiltration of the compound where they had bested their second Inquisitor months earlier; the fact that the guards there had had a tendency to go off their patrol routes when noticing something suspicious, even if their assigned task was critical to the installation, had made separating single ones to quickly and quietly dispatch unconscionably easy. Determined as he was to learn from his enemies' mistake, Harry had then made it clear to everyone, that if they were ordered to guard something, that it was their one and only order.

"Show me, where."

OOOOOOOO