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Chapter 19: Spreading

A blaze of white fire, hot enough to sear clear through one of the natural stone columns, shot forth from Harry's wand and toward the abomination in front of them. It was a flame whip the likes of which not even Dumbledore had used in his fight against Voldemort in the Ministry atrium so long ago, though whether that was out of some misguided sense of honour and mercy, or the very real worry of setting aflame any garment not properly protective, he really did not know. Him and Arden, though, had no such compunctions, and their armour was resistant enough to tolerate the heat generated by his magic for a good while. The same could very much not be said for the cyborg zombie-dog that had tried to attack them; though it had, and with surprising agility too, tried to evade, a small flick of the wrist had sufficiently altered the flaming rope's trajectory to still wrap around the beast and quickly begin melting metal and burning what little flesh remained.

Arden, who had been forced to let the shield drop for them to be able to use offensive magic like this, was contending with her own adversary, a second zombie-dog, somewhat different yet equally as gruelling as the first; metal teeth bared, the vicious terror lunged for her, only to be hit in its open maw by some sort of exploding hex that shattered both mandible and maxilla (or rather their metal replacement parts). Then, following Harry's example, the witch cast a strong fire curse on the mangled remains and joined him in watching their would-be attackers melt into puddles on the cave floor.

"This wasn't it, right?" the witch asked, sounding to be caught somewhere between hope and disappointment. "This can't have been it. The soldiers would have been able to deal with this."

Sadly, Harry shook his head. "Don't be so sure," he cautioned, waving toward the smoking remains. "We had a shield, magical fire… who knows, how valuable blaster fire would have been against these things. And you know them better than I do: Which of the soldiers would have heard them following us the way you have?"

Upon hearing the question, Arden fell silent; she knew as well as him, at least the wizard assumed she did, that while many of the people now serving as soldiers in the various places, he now had under his command were indeed excellent at what they did, none of them were the kind of born and trained hunter the Dathomirian was.

"None…" she replied, dejectedly. Then, in a way that made Harry fear for his subordinates' free time and mental health, a certain resolute stubbornness replaced her former expression. "Well, maybe Kisc, but he doesn't count. He was a smuggler, now he's a scout. Now you: Kill it with fire?"

Shrugging, Harry turned his back on her, trusting the witch to re-erect the shield that would protect them from unwelcome surprises. "Seemed like a good idea at the time. And it worked, didn't it?"

She did not honour his explanation with a response, instead choosing to simply reform their defences as the wizard once again continued along the most direct route toward that mysterious, definitely sentient-made structure down on the caves. According to his HUD, only a good one-hundred metres remained of the trek, and he was incredibly thankful for that. Despite the short intermezzo of an actual fight, they had just 'enjoyed', the entire morning since the shuttle had dropped them off had been filled with slow hiking and constant paranoia. It was a rather… tiring exercise that some of his old professors would have enjoyed using as detention. Considering the danger waiting at the end, it really might have happened, maybe under the questionable auspices of Hagrid and Fang.

"Now would you look at that…" Arden commented as they finally reached what might just be only the beginning of their real exploration; before them, formed from roughly worked duracrete, rose a large double door. There were no data ports where the probe droids they had sent to explore the caves might have tried to slice in, indeed there were no indications of any locking mechanisms of any kind. Nor of opening mechanisms, for that matter, which might have severely hampered their progress had they not been able to command the forces of magic.

"Alohomora," Harry cast, and even as he was already preparing to cast some follow-up to force open the door wings, they started rolling to the sides of their own accord. It was not in any way creepy, definitely wasn't, and he had not flinched violently when it happened.

"Wuss,"his Dathomirian companion scolded him, punching his armour-clad shoulder as she strode past into the mysterious unknown behind the formerly closed doors.

"What is this place?"

Arden's question cut through the deathlike silence of the underground structure like a lightsabre through… well, mostly anything. Harry seemed to lack an answer, so he simply continued to swivel around his head in an effort to take it all in. The space was a mixture of beautiful, intimidating, foreboding and absolutely repulsive all rolled into one. Along the high ceiling, original elements of the cave system and the cavern this room must have been formed from remained, and glittering stalactites reached almost half of the way to the ground, some of them low enough to warrant watching your head. Covering the floor was some sort of metal alloy, a dull, lacklustre grey, especially in comparison to the visual beauty above.

Along the walls, half rough stone, half more of the grey metal, what had to be some sick science laboratory had been arrayed; multiple gurneys, the purpose of which Arden was reluctant to imagine, a large workbench with a multitude of flasks, cauldrons and equipment, not unlike what Harry used to brew his potions. Whatever had happened here was in the distant past, though, thousands of years, judging by the growth of even some stalagmites in the far corner of the room. Yet, some of the stone formations were obviously damaged, some recently, some long ago. Just from looking at them, it was apparent, that something had repeatedly destroyed the hanging stones.

"I guess we found out where those zombie-dogs were made," Harry observed, and even with the helmet he was wearing, Arden could tell his gaze was riveted to the various brewing supplies one the worktable. "It doesn't look like a high-tech lab, though. This is like something the purebloods would see in their worst nightmares about muggles…"

From what she had been told, the Dathomirian agreed; this sacrilegious blend of what looked to be magic and technology would definitely have occurred to people who cannot imagine anyone ever living without the former in their life, while also being profoundly afraid of the latter.

Suddenly, a different sound, one that was neither her nor Harry's footsteps, not those of the weird creatures from earlier, reached her ears; a slow, shuffling, heavy gait. No, multiple ones, all of them wounded or otherwise impaired. Then, the stench reached her, even behind the shield she was still holding up.

"We have company,"the witch warned her captain, already beginning to cast around with her gaze, trying to find out, where the enemy might appear first; there were no illusions to be had about finding anyone friendly down here. On the back wall, furthest from their entry point through the cave system, there was another opening into the room, everything in the corridor behind vanishing in the shadows a mere few paces beyond the portal. Pointing at the only possible spot for someone to appear, she asked, "More fire?"

With a decisive nod, Harry placed himself in front of the opening and brought his wand to bear. A number of light charms left the tip first, suddenly illuminating the unnatural darkness and revealing a number of shambling… things. Just like the dog-creatures from earlier, they had strips of flesh still, falling off their metallic corpses as they ambled closer. In their eyes, as if there had been any doubt left after their earlier encounter, there remained nothing but malice and hatred. Arms had been reformed into various kinds of weapons, saws, blades, heavy mallets. Most disturbing, though, were the remnants of uniforms hanging around inhuman shoulders.

There was no doubt about the fact that these distorted visions of horror were the six soldiers that had been lost to these caves, transformed into monstrosities. Arden only allowed herself the briefest moment of distraction, before dropping the shield that protected the two of them from ambush, jabbed her wand at the approaching horde and barked, "Flumen Ignis!"

Though not quite as powerful, as blindingly white-hot as Harry's flame-whip had been, and not as concentrated either, the magical fire hit the six grotesque shapes with destructive intensity, burning first the tattered flesh, then starting to melt the metallic bones, sinews and muscles. The two in the front were already down, the structural integrity of their hip joints no longer up to the task of supporting the heavy torse, when something caused Arden's concentration to waiver.

"Weeeeeeiiiiiiiuuuuuueeeeeehhhhh…"

A feedback noise through the comms system, like holding a rod of durasteel to an angle grinder. It was painful, it was distracting. Out of nowhere, Harry was next to her, fumbling for the small button on her helmet that would disable internal communications. When he finally found it, the weird screech was already starting to recede on its own, but if it came back, she would be thankful the speakers were off. He nodded at her, when she saw, over his shoulder, that with surprising speed and agility, two of the monstrosities had reached them. Her captain, her friend and teacher, was turning around now, in a lucky twist of luck evading the piercing stab to the heart he would have received had he not moved. Instead, it was first his left arm that bore the brunt of the attack, then the second metal corpse got him in the head with its mallet arm.

Anger started clouding the Dathomirian's vision as she stared into the cold, lifeless eyes of the two beings who had felled her friend, and in anger, she lashed out with her wand. Not even truly bothering to really shape her magic anymore, she just let loose on them, the first being reduced to but half a torso and the lower body by a wave of pure energy. The second one, the one that had hit Harry in the head (hopefully, hopefully not killing him in the process) did not fare much better as it was torn to literal shreds with a cry of fury. Behind it, its last remaining companion, now shambling toward her, simply had its head vanished, letting it crumble to the ground.

With the immediate danger taken care of, Arden let herself fall to the ground next to the captain and began examining him, limited though her abilities were. Pulling off the helmet showed him to be breathing, at least, and regularly at that, not overly laboured, too. Palpating his carotid revealed a strong, steady pulse. Her fears now somewhat alleviated, she began rummaging around for the portkey he had insisted they both carry and found it in one of the bandolier pouches on his chest. Laying it onto his breastplate, the witch grappled for control over her magic, control over the rage she could still feel beating in her chest, then pointed her wand at the portkey and activated it.

Now with Harry out of immediate danger, though, that rage finally took over. With the meticulousness of an assiduous tax assessor, she began destroying every last scrap of the beings, the things she could find. When only the helmet she was wearing allowed her to continue breathing in the dense, acrid fumes her searing, magical fires spewed, she began following the corridor back into the underground lair. Along the walls, there were a few rooms, all of them void of life, that fell victim to her wrath: a small kitchen she destroyed, the bedroom that was left behind covered in the splinters of a bed and a dresser, and the only reason she held back on completely obliterating the small workspace/library was the thought of what the man she had just sent to the infirmary would have to say about destroying valuable intel and possibly age-old knowledge.

It was in the last room along the hallway, fittingly, that she finally found the last of these monsters: the form of this one obviously female, it had been unable to reach them as quickly as the others, as its left foot had been transformed into an unwieldy claw that, had she let it come close, would have made for a worrying melee weapon. Now, though, as a rope of flame, burning white and hot, shot from her wand and slung around 'her' neck, neatly severing whatever remained of the brain from the body, it was nothing more than an impediment. This one, too, was then burned until only just a puddle on the ground remained, allowing some of the rage to recede.

Arden was stunned; had she been able to, or had any need to, she would have used one of the night spells, she was sure. She had not felt this kind of fury ever since watching her little brother be taken away by a woman thrice his age to be raised as her slave, to impregnate her as soon as he was physically able to. Intellectually, she had known how important all these people around her were to her, but to have it demonstrated quite so viscerally… As many people do in similar situations, or so she told herself, Arden decided, not to think about it too much. Instead, she pulled out an enchanted bag from one of her own pouches to gather what she could from the workspace. Then, she would conjure an ass-load of fuel, spread it out all over this accursed place, and torch the damn hole down.

That sounded like it would be majorly cathartic.

OOOOOOOO

When Arden took her own portkey back to the base, landing in the infirmary, it was like she had dropped into a hailstorm of activity. They had no real doctors on staff, only some medics and the medical droids, and it felt like each and every one of them was now here, running around in a tizzy. All that activity seemed to be centred on one single bed to the back of the space the designers had given over to the important task of keeping the planetary garrison healthy. Inside that bed she could see, now that she was stepping closer, they had placed Harry, freed from his armour by some attendant and still unconscious; that was most worrisome indeed. The blow he had suffered was bad, there was no question about it, especially not after she had taken a closer look at the size and weight of the mallet he had been hit with. Still, he should have been up by now.

Worried, the witch stepped closer to take a good, long look at him; his head seemed fine, without even a wound or visible swelling; he was breathing regularly, 22 times a minute, if the small monitor next to his bed was to be believed and his blood pressure was just a tad low for a man his age, or so she believed. Healing had never been her strong suit, and that had not changed for the medic who taught them all basic first aid on the Lightbringer. Nothing major to see there, as far as she could tell.

Then, she focused her attention on the thing everyone's attention seemed to be focused on, for some reason: Harry's left arm, the one, Arden remembered, where the weird, mutated electro zombie had managed to stab through the armour and bodyglove and hurt the flesh below. From the red, angry cut seemed to be spreading a metallic sheen, furthest along the veins lining his lower arm, but also ever so slowly creeping up the skin. In one spot, it looked like there was a nodule forming from the very same material that their enemies earlier had been made of…

"Step away from him, take away all electronic equipment," she suddenly ordered the gathered medical personnel; had one of them been a doctor, they might have overridden her. Now, though, there were only combat medics and droids, all of them drilled to follow orders as long as they were coming from a superior; sure, a few protested they had to continue diagnosing whatever it was Harry had, but Arden was quite sure she already knew: whatever had turned their other crewmembers into mechanical abominations with an endless need for destruction. One complaint she could understand, though, and that she addressed, "Take your specimens, blood, whatever you need, but be careful with that stuff. Once you're done, burn it until nothing's left."

A medical droid hurried closer, first extracting blood from the captain's uninjured arm, then taking a tissue sample from the edge of the visibly transforming skin, before quickly hurrying away again, as Arden began brandishing her wand; even before her eyes, she could see this… infection, for wont of a better word, spreading up his arm. The picture had immediately reminded her of how she had met the man now lying on this hospital bed, of how he told her the poison of the Kodashi viper that had bitten her was also visibly spreading up her leg, and he told her about what piece of magic had saved her that day, given him enough time to brew an antidote. And while the witch was intensely sceptical a potion, however complicated it may be, would do the trick in this case, a stasis charm was guaranteed to help slow whatever this was down.

Just like Harry had taught her to, she let her wand wander across his body, all the while quietly chanting words she did not understand, starting at the affected arm where she wanted the effects to set in as quickly as possible, over his torso, head and other arm, down to his legs. As expected, the life-sign sensor someone had neglected to remove despite her order went absolutely crazy as soon as it was unable to detect a pulse, or any cardiac activity whatsoever, but Arden simply removed the offending piece of equipment and handed it off to one of the droids standing by. Not having him visibly breathe anymore was harder to ignore, so with one last pat on his shoulder, she turned around to do… something. Maybe she would look for a sparring partner, or go outside and blow up some rocks, maybe some left-over crates from when the base was first being built.

"Lieutenant Tla," one of the medical droids in its distressingly monotone voice stopped her. "The personal effects of the patient; there seems to be something vibrating, possibly a communication device. According to the records, you are authorised to receive his gear should he be incapacitated."

Numbly, Arden received the armour and the uniform bodyglove Harry had been wearing under it. Indeed, in one of the bandolier pouches something was vibrating, and she most definitely was not looking forward to the conversation accepting his things, including his communication mirror, would inevitably entail. For a moment she considered simply ignoring Leia's attempts at calling, but immediately felt bad for it. If their roles were reversed, she would expect to be told, would be livid to be shut out, for sure. Not here, though, not down here, where he was around and where his girlfriend might ask to see him. She did not need to see him like this when she was thousands of lightyears away, unable to do a thing.

The way took her both too much and too little time to complete, and before the witch was truly ready for it, she had found herself in the base commander's office, Harry's office, now. Why she had come here, she could not quite point to, though it probably had something to do with feelings and other such things that she was not all that proficient in. By now, the mirror had stopped vibrating, and for just a split second, the temptation to draw this out was back, though she crushed it with a vengeance. There was no being a coward on this one; Arden could not possibly be afraid of the slip of a girl that was Leia Organa. Then again, maybe she was not afraid of her friend, but of hurting her friend. Realising any thoughts she was now having on the matter were bound to be rather circular, Arden grabbed the mirror once again.

"Leia Organa."

Barely a few seconds had passed, and the harried face of the captain's girlfriend appeared on the formerly reflective surface; by all appearances, she had been through some tough times, recently, as well.

"Hi, Harr… Arden? What are you doing with Harry's mirror?" The Dathomirian could see the thoughts whirring around in Leia's head, and they seemed to have led her to a worrying conclusion. "Is Harry alright?"

Even while she was pondering about what to tell Leia, the witch's expression must have betrayed her thoughts. "What happened to him? Will he be fine?"

Arden breathed in deeply, trying to decide how to tell her friend. "We went down into the cave and found… I'm not sure what we found," she admitted, wondering how to describe what they had found down there. "Some kind of abominations, metal and dead flesh, minds completely lost. Two cybernetically enhanced dogs, mostly dead flesh. We found some kind of underground lab with our dead soldiers, the same was done to them. Weapons for hands… got swarmed by six of them, then our comms units were flooded with a feedback noise. One of them got him in the left arm with a large blade arm, one got him on the head with a mallet. I ported him to the infirmary and cleared out the rest, gathered up all the records and burned the place down."

"And Harry?" Leia questioned urgently, looking at the Dathomirian intently, her eyes demanding answers. "How's Harry now?"

"We're not really sure," Arden admitted, shrugging her shoulders with a certain… helplessness. "He's unconscious, even though he shouldn't be. The medi droids say he should be awake by now. It's his arm that's got us worried: the skin around his wound is turning grey, there were some metallic… nodules forming, especially along the veins. I put him under stasis, so it doesn't progress any further."

On the other end of the connection between the two mirrors, Leia had gone rather pale, more so than usual. It was plain to see how worried she was, how scared for Harry's health, their possible future. "Doesn't progress any further," the princess repeated the last words back at her. "And what about reversing what's already done?"

Once again, Arden shrugged her shoulders, helplessly. "I came here as soon as I put Harry in stasis… guess I'll look into those records to find out, what it's all about."

"I'm coming ba…"

"No, you're not," the witch interrupted, glaring at Leia. "Don't pull a Harry on us, Leia; think, before you do! Do you want to be sitting around here, worrying, without anything to do? All the while being angry at yourself for leaving your mission unfinished?"

Though it visibly pained her to do so, the dishevelled young woman nodded her assent. They were both doers, and Arden had been well able to imagine how she herself would feel in Leia's place. With her knowledge of magic and the Force, she had a chance to understand what those old texts from the lab were about, but the princess would be completely lost, slowly going crazy in her inability to actually do something. Where she was now, she would at least feel useful, though likely not happy.

"I was so excited to tell him about something…" Leia mumbled, more to herself than to Arden, at least that was how it seemed.

"Tell me, then," the Dathomirian offered, trying to go for her best inviting smile. That felt wrong, somehow. Inviting and smile were usually not things she went for. Oh, the lengths she would go for all these people. "I think we can both use something else to think about, right now."

OOOOOOOO