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Chapter 8: Fiddle Riposte

"Damn, that asshole from Mandal played us like a fiddle," Harry was steaming as he stormed out of the interrogation room where he had just learned what exactly had prompted the attacks on the corporation's shipping, after the pirates had already been called off multiple times before. "There most definitely was something wrong with all of this… they have a big, bad crime syndicate as their backer, that's what's wrong with it. Mercer, let's load off those pirates and get lost, we've probably made the Zann Consortium angry; they've no scruples attacking the Alliance or the Empire, they certainly won't have a problem attacking us."

The last part had been barked into the communicator on his wrist, out of which soon echoed a, "Yes, Boss."

"And have that freighter and the Phosphoros jump out now, no sense in keeping them here; send along the M14s as protection," he added, before the connection winked out. A tiny sense of acceleration told Harry what he needed to know, that the Lightbringer was now in motion, just as he had ordered.

He, himself, was now moving toward the hangar bay, from where they would offload their captives and collect their reward. On the way, he pulled out the datapad, hoping the crewmembers Mercer had assigned to the job would have run the pirates through the bounty listings, should any of them have anything outstanding, as they sure as hell would not be staying any longer than they had to. That was just asking for bad luck with people like the Consortium on your tail, after everything he had heard about the organisation.

Luckily, it seemed like the vast majority of their prisoners had been catalogued, though none of them seemed overly notorious; a few bounties for sure, but nothing major. The highest amount of credits was on the head of the captain, and that was only 10000, nothing to scoff at, but nothing major, either. Assaulting the freighter-turned-carrier had only netted them another fifteen captives, none of them with a bounty higher than 2000 credits. No, the big lump of money was still what had been offered by Mandal Hypernautics itself, despite how annoyed Harry was with them for lying to him and his crew.

"Boss," Mercer's voice came out of his communicator, unhurried and calm as ever. "We're landing at the company premises now. I'm sending down an armed guard to come with you, and I'll also have someone cover your back with a strong rifle. I don't trust these people."

"Whatever you think is right, Mercer," Harry replied, long ago having given up on debating security measures with the Imperial deserter. With a bit of luck taking a few bodyguards with him might actually afford him the possibility of getting Leia to stay behind; she was not far enough in her magical training to be of particular use and, at least for him, more likely to be a distraction than a helpful ally; that was beyond the worrying possibility of her being recognised somehow, even with a magical disguise.

Luckily, the waiting period inside the hangar was not long, and soon the captain felt the slight shudder of atmospheric re-entry, closely followed by the small rumble of the unfolding landing gears and the tremor of the Lightbringer settling onto a landing platform. As announced, he was then joined by a 'small' retinue of ten soldiers, all of them garbed in the typical armour he was in the habit of making for people on his ship, all of them visibly, heavily armed; they were ushering along the pirate group, bar the ones that had been killed during the dogfight and the boarding of their freighter/carrier, obviously. Somehow, none of the captives seemed all that happy with their situation.

"Just let me do the talking and try to look threatening," Harry told the assembled 'honour guard' (he was sure someone would make that joke later). Then, with another look at the fairly terrifying helmet/mask-combo everyone was wearing, coupled with the ferocious armament, he added, "Just… do as you were."

During the last few words, he had been effectively distracted by something he had seen in the corner of his eye; just around the bend at the turbolift shafts stood Leia, clearly geared up for battle and waiting for her glamour. Purposefully, though doubting that kind of confidence would last before her considerable stubbornness, he strode over.

"Don't even try it," she opened the conversation without preamble, making it abundantly clear this would not be an easy task. "Mercer thinks this will be dangerous? Then I will be right there; I'm not some damsel in distress who needs to be rescued and then waits in the back while you go back out there. Why are you looking at me like that?"

Harry shook his head to get out of the stupor she had induced with her vivacious tirade. "Sorry, sorry…" he began, took a deep breath and began anew. "Never said you were, am not a Prince Charming, whose sole purpose is to rescue a Princess in distress, though I am quite happy I stumbled upon this particular one inside a Death Star detention centre and…. Yes, you want to protect me?"

Fervent nodding. "Having you with us would be a liability right now, because as capable as you might be overall, your magical training is far from ready to be applied in combat and you don't have the training or the equipment these people behind me do."

Though it obviously made her belligerent to hear, Harry was happy to take note what he had said was processed not only by Leia's emotional half, but also by the reasonable, logical young woman he knew her to be, most of the time at least.

"After this, you make me a set of armour," she demanded, scowling at him for daring to have the right of it, which was actually insanely cute (in an adult, sexy kind of way). "That way, next time something like this happens, I can come."

Certain that he would be unable to get any kind of better deal, the wizard simply nodded, pressed a small kiss to his girlfriend's cheek and was off, followed closely by both captive pirates and guard retinue. At the end of the ramp, they were greeted by a rather young man, two guards in Mandalorian armour by his side.

"If you'll follow me, please, I will lead you to Security Director Wills" he simpered, his tone already managing to further grate on Harry's already frayed nerves. "Your people may relinquish the prisoners now; they can remain on the ship and you can sort out payment with the Director."

By now, though he had initially thought Mercer paranoid, all of Harry's alarm bells were ringing; the attempt to separate him and the soldiers, trying to get him to relinquish the prisoners before he saw a pay-out… it smelled suspiciously like a trap. Still, maybe the situation could be solved in an… agreeable way.

"I'm sorry, that won't be happening," he replied with steely resolve. "Your Director already lied to us once before and now you're trying to get me to relinquish my prisoners before you show me the credits. Once again, I tell you, won't happen. Now get your boss here, or we take the prisoners back with us and hand them in somewhere else; at least we'll make some money, then."

"Oh, I'm sure something could be worked…"

"Get. YOUR. BOSS!" Harry roared, loud and, dare he say, intimidating enough that even he himself did a bit of a flinch on the inside. "You have one minute."

Immediately, the snivelling sycophant of an attendant that had greeted him stepped a few feet aside and began rapidly talking into a commlink attached to the cuffs of his elegant, suit-like jacket that felt so at odds with the distinctly Mandalorian surroundings, especially his guards and their armour. Meanwhile, Harry himself began furiously ordering a few things of his own; obviously, he had disabled the armour's outer speakers that would usually relay what was being said inside to the outside world. Less than forty seconds later, a set of sliding doors at the back of the landing bay jutted open, revealing another man, this one much older and with a confidence of bearing that not only bordered on arrogance but simply rushed past that border into territory where one would expect the sneer to never leave his face.

"How very perceptive of you, Mr. Dash," the older man, whom Harry could only assume was Director Wills, greeted, voice dripping in the kind of condescension one was often able to hear from the purebloods in the wizarding society of Britain; it was an attitude born from incredible egotism and a boundless feeling of one's own superiority. "Now, I suggest you hand over your captives, then you might get to live through all of this."

Behind his mask, though invisible to his now self-declared enemy, the wizard sneered; it was an expression full of loathing and hatred for a man so obviously determined to make his life more difficult, just when he had managed to get some semblance of order and freedom.

"Counter argument," Harry replied icily, suddenly very happy that the sound system of his armour was excellent, able to completely and accurately reproduce his tone of voice. "See, I noticed a few odd things when I landed here, even before, so I came prepared. You want these prisoners?"

Suddenly, he pulled forth a thermal detonator, a mean-looking one at that, safety already pulled. "Even if you do survive, the people you wanted for information on the ones pulling their strings will be red mush. That's without even mentioning the marksman," he gestured behind himself where, just up the ramp of the Lightbringer, one could see the barrel of Corsek's DC-15, "who will most definitely end your miserable, traitorous existence should anything happen to us. Obviously, we also have someone filming all this and recording us as we speak. I'm sure you have enemies that would be interested in all…"

"I get it," Wills interrupted, the sneer on his face, if possible, having grown even deeper, his eyes burning with even more loathing. "What do you want, criminal?"

"Criminal? Bold choice of word coming from you, wouldn't you say?" Harry replied in faux amusement. "Nevertheless, you got me on a good day. Two million credits plus… say 50000 for every single one of these nerf-herders; I'll even throw in the information you wanted in the first place, as a gesture of… good will."

Though it visibly pained him to do so, the corrupt security director nodded. "And make it hard currency," the captain called after the attendant who was now scurrying away.

The silence that settled over the assembled opposing groups was, in the nicest possible terms, awkward. Wills was still fuming, like he had somehow been wronged by getting his plan turned around on him, though Harry paid it no mind; this kind of person, always getting away with stuff, would react in exactly this way whenever someone actually was able to defend themselves. A bouncing ferret came to mind by way of a useful example. It took barely ten minutes, until the snivelling attendant from earlier returned, a hoversled with four enormous crates stacked on top of it.

"See, we can do business amicably, can't we?" he needled; at this point, it was simply a bit of karmic justice really. "Just so you know, the transmitter aboard my ship has already routed the recording of our little… business meeting to some of our friends, should you entertain any wild ideas of, I don't know, having us blasted out of the sky. Pleasure doing business with you."

With an invisible grin, Harry waved for the prisoners to be handed over and then began retreating up the ramp again, carefully keeping his eyes and blaster pistol aimed toward their 'new friends'. As he stepped on board, the entryway began closing, and the Director had almost faded out of view when he called, amplified by the speakers on his armour suit, "Those pirates were working for the Zann Consortium."

As he turned around, he was greeted by a sight both arousing (strange thought in that moment, he had to admit) and terrifying; Leia, her slightly altered black uniform enhancing her natural aura of command, hands on her hips, scowling.

"Can I beg off the verbal thrashing for just a second?" Harry pleaded, earning himself both an increase in intensity as far as her glare was concerned, and a grudging nod. "Arden, how good is your disillusionment charm?"

Though the last part had been said into his communicator, the answer in form of a simple 'This good' came from the witch's mouth, directly behind his back; naturally, he let out a very brave, masculine shriek and turned around with a scowl of his own.

"Forget I even asked," Harry mumbled belligerently, before looking at Arden again. "When we rendezvous with the rest of the fleet, can you take one of the ships and do some… fact-finding concerning our new friend, the esteemed Director Wills?"

"Spying? Me?" the Dathomirian witch questioned, fake consternation all over her face. "Finally, something that really challenges my new… skillset. I'll take the Decimator."

As an afterthought she added, "Nice move with the detonator, by the way… Maybe you could put the safety back in, now?"

"Oh, this?" To the general disturbance of the gathered masses, he tossed the explosive into the air, snapped his fingers and… it vanished into nothingness. "Calm down, it's an illusion; how crazy would I have to be to do that with a real detonator, if I can pretend to have one just as well. And if you want to take the VT-49 I won't stop you."

Then, more to himself than anyone else, though he assumed Leia would hear as well, "It's not like there's going to be enough free time for a vacation with the Zann Consortium on our case."

OOOOOOOO

Whatever Harry had expected going forward, screaming, tears, promises being extracted to never do something like this again, maybe some soul-crushing guilt trip, being mauled as soon as he followed Leia into their quarters was not on the list.

In fact, he had barely stepped through the sliding door and engaged the lock (a habit formed to keep Mercer from barging into the room at inopportune times) when she was all over him. Or at least over all of him that she could reach, which was not all that much, considering he was still wearing his entire suit of armour, including the helmet; only the mask he had taken off. Still, what she could reach for, she did reach for.

A set of surprisingly strong arms pulled on his own, two soft yet unyielding lips descended on his. Deep moans escaped someone's mouth and only belatedly did Harry realise that it was he himself that was making these sounds, while Leia just kept kissing him, even as she worked to undo the chin strap on his helmet. It was complicated to an almost ridiculous degree by the two actions being combined but somehow, she managed. As she then proceeded to undo the bindings on his armour plates, he felt safe enough that, somehow, they were doing this now, he let his own hands roam; a firm tug on the back of his girlfriend's neck to further deepen the kiss, a hand slowly, sensually running down her back until it reached less harmless territory…

Sleepily, Harry was trailing characters of the aurebesh on the back of the woman now cuddled into his side, content in the afterglow of their very… vigorous fucking, there was no other word that would accurately depict what they had done; very life-affirming, nonetheless, which was kind of what he thought the whole point had been.

"Don't scare me like that ever again, please," Leia mumbled, already half asleep. "Promise…"

Though it broke his heart, Harry knew he could never promise her that, not as long as the Empire and the Emperor and Darth Vader and all the other people like them were still around; neither could she, for that matter, and her own imprisonment, through which they had met in the first place was ample proof of that.

"I'll do my best, my darling."

OOOOOOOO

The transit time back to Sanctuary, owing to the presence of the transport with its comparatively abominable hyperdrive, was three times as much as their original journey had taken; nevertheless, Harry did not have it in himself to be disappointed for the moment. He had Leia with him, showing her as much magic as was possible with them having to share foci, could still enjoy the occasional spar in the training room, though with Arden gone it just was not the same, and he could still enjoy some scheming together with Mercer, whose plans had only continued to increase in grandiosity with the recent 'credit boon'. Much as it pained him to do so, the wizard found himself having to temper the older man's enthusiasm on the matter.

"Slow down, man," he interrupted yet another tangent his first officer had taken in his musings on the possibilities money could open up. "Let's start getting what he have off the ground, for now; I think we have a great business model, too, but I would still like to actually test it before sinking even more credits into this idea. It's not like that stuff is going anywhere."

Though he appeared less than happy at having to do so, Mercer seemed to be able to see the wisdom in his friend's statement (huh, wisdom; who would have thought Harry Potter would shortly begin uttering pearls of wisdom just a few years ago, back when he had still been a moody, grouchy teenager). Yet, not fully able to admit he had been in the wrong, the deserter simply returned attention to the swirling blue tunnel of hyperspace, from which they were scheduled to emerge shortly. When eventually the solid blue turned to star lines, then to the blackness of space, there was much less emptiness than he had expected.

Sure, even inside a system, vast amounts of nothing always remained, which had forced the displaced wizard to re-evaluate his own perception of the word empty, but he had learned to adapt; that was the reason, why now his gaze tended to turn to the sensor display, whenever they first came into a new situation and he was manning the bridge, instead of relying solely on his woefully inadequate eyesight. What that quick look revealed left him reeling…

There were all sorts of contacts: TIE variants, a few of the Sentinel-class landing crafts the Empire favoured, even a Lambda. He was relieved to see the Morningstar among the other ships, reminding him that, were this an Imperial attack, the largest ship would not have been a mere shuttle. No, had they been branded a danger to the New Order, or something the likes, there would at least have been a few cruisers, just to make a strong show of force. Only belatedly did he realise that every one of the vessels now populating the sensor range were ones they had… liberated from the Bastion.

"Mercer?" he questioned the decidedly too innocent and absolutely unsurprised looking man still standing next to him. "Anything you might have forgotten to tell me about?"

"Oh, that? Psh…" Mercer waved it off, only stopped in his attempt at a retreat by the narrow-eyed look he was now getting from Harry. "I kind of foresaw you not wanting to expand our operation prematurely, so I had people here hold back on selling off the auxiliary craft from that cruiser. With the Mandalorians helping out basically for free, we didn't really need the money for ships anyway, and now we even have a nice little… what did you call it… a nest egg."

Harry snorted slightly at the idea of a 'nest egg' in excess of three million credits, even after a hefty bonus had been paid out to every member of the crew on every ship under his command. "And what exactly are all these ships doing right now, flying around like a big, juicy target on our backs?"

"Ah, to the truly genius," his second-in-command continued to flatter himself, though it seemed at best halfway genuine. "I had this, dare I say, brilliant thought about a more… visible representation than an invisible planet, you see? Then, I remembered we still had more material from that cruiser intended to set up smaller outposts, including what you need to set up a small orbital base, given the raw material. I simply had them scout out a suitable asteroid one system over, meaning closer to the Perlemian run by one jump, and start digging."

The wizard watched the older man closely for a while, the shit-eating grin and the confident posture. "Do you have too much time while we're underway? I'd have no problem teaching you how to fight with a staff, you know?"

Mercer winced, likely remembering the one time he had joined Harry and Arden in their one-on-one training, not the watered-down version the normal crewmembers received. "Pass, Boss; thanks for the offer though," he eventually replied, almost, almost managing to sound sincere. "If you're going to be running around, bashing in skulls or whatever you do with your magic, someone needs to look after your ship."

"Our ship."

"…our ship," the first officer corrected himself, indulgently rolling his eyes. "Back to the topic at hand. I thought it would be a good idea to have a visible presence somewhere if people wanted to find us, whether they were looking for work or had any business with us. The less outside people need to set foot on Sanctuary, the better."

Harry found himself agreeing easily, at least to his reasoning. "Just don't keep important stuff like this from me, will you? I could have helped in the excavation."

Nodding, the older man agreed, "Yes you could have, and I will inform you in the future; nevertheless, I think this was the right way. Idle hands and all."

Eyes widening in comprehension, it was now onto the wizard to nod almost furiously. There was definitely a point to what Mercer had said; leaving alone a few hundred people, many of them still young and impulsive despite their Imperial training trying to knock any of those inclinations out of them certainly had not been the best of ideas. Immediately, a flood of possibilities of what they could have gotten up to began flooding his mind, from the unbelievably amusing to the downright dangerous.

"Good thinking; any more ideas how to keep them working?" Harry inquired, even as he himself was shuffling through idea. Maybe doing a detailed survey of Sanctuary, just a topographical map to begin with, then adding more detail in an ever-increasing area around the base itself. "A survey?"

Mercer nodded, before he explained, "A basic visual scan of the surface has already been done; for everything else, we simply don't have the equipment. For the moment, the TIEs are doing basic air patrols, should be staying inside the atmosphere, though; they bring back some data, but for more, we would need specialised gear, maybe a purpose-built explorer. Something less aggressively-minded than a Pacifier, more focused on actually exploring."

"Hmmm," Harry hummed in response; something about Mercer's words struck a chord with him, something that did not fit. "Do you have any idea how much gear like that… bantha poodoo, the TIEs."

A suddenly very worried, if rather confused former Imperial on his tails, the captain dashed down into the trench to the sensor station; indeed, the signatures of the TIEs he had seen earlier were still there. If only he knew, why and, more importantly for the moment, who they answered to.

OOOOOOOO