"Obi-Wan," Leia exclaimed, shock etched into her face as Luke's teacher stumbled mid-step, just managing to catch himself on the side of their transport, the last ship that was to leave their base, hopefully to make an escape, not simply be shot apart under heavy turbolaser fire. "What is it?"
Shaking his head, somewhat reminding Leia of the way Harry would do it when, as he said, he had to 'clear the cobwebs', the old Jedi stood back up straight. "I felt a… disturbance in the Force, something I haven't felt in a long while."
Kenobi took a little longer to fully gather himself, but he quickly returned to being all-business. "We need to hurry, Vader is here," he ordered, looking around warily, as if expecting the Emperor's enforcer to jump out of the shadows at any moment. "He's been coming closer for a while now but… Something's wrong, if Eclipse were in the system, we would know. What is he doing here alone, without backup?"
No one really seemed to have the mind to work on that problem, though, as with that pronouncement, preparations took on an even more urgent pace. Even the formerly grim and determined, if rather muted survivors of Alderaan were once again bustling about; if Leia had to guess she would have said they were glad for the opportunity to take their shot at one of the three beings they held most responsible for the destruction of their homeworld and the murders of the entirety of its population. The murders of these people's family members, friends, their entire lives.
Never one to refuse getting her hands dirty for a righteous goal, the princess kept pushing around the last few supplies still waiting to be offloaded from their hoversleds, securing the crates in the transport's cargo hold and repeating the same set of actions as often as possible. Even when her very presence was an offense to Alliance High Command, who had been dead set on having her out of the line of fire as quickly as possible, she would never be able to stand by and do nothing. That was not even taking into consideration the fact that what they were loading now were some of the most important things that had been on the base: computers. Sure, they could buy or probably steal more, but what was on those computers was what really mattered; data, lots of it.
She was just watching the last crate be pushed up the loading ramp of their light freighter when all her, admittedly limited, Jedi-senses began tingling. And truly, there in the large hangar doors she could see the figure of Darth Vader, his bulky suit of armour spreading out the dark cape behind him, the fabric hanging limply in the stale air of the jungle moon.
Within a moment, the hisses of two lightsabres were filling the room as the figure of Kenobi ignited his blade to square off against his enemy.
"Kenobi," the emotionless voice of the machine-man filled the giant room, permeating the space like no single man's voice ever should. Or maybe it only seemed this all-encompassing to the woman who still heard this voice in her nightmares, from time to time. "We meet again, at last."
Cumbersome, yet with the certainty of an apex predator that knew nothing, and no one could challenge him, the black figure approached the old Jedi, his sword raised in front of him.
"The circle is now complete," Vader declared, the lack of an emotional inflection to the voice coming out of his vocabulator making it hard to judge the man's emotional state within any acceptable margin of error. "Once, you were the master. Now, I shall become the master. Where is the boy?!"
If there had been a brief appearance of shock on Kenobi's face, and Leia was sure there had been, then she had only managed to guess at it by having watched the man very closely for quite some time now, curious and distrusting of the secret she was certain he was keeping.
"You will not have Luke," the Jedi declared firmly, and in that moment the princess believed him, even though she was not entirely certain, why he thought Vader would be asking for Luke of all people; it seemed more sensible for this monster to be searching for Harry, the one whose rather… unique talents the Sith had encountered before. "And you cannot hope to win; You are only a master of evil, Darth."
Yet despite his confident words, just before wading into the fray, Kenobi turned around, looked at Leia beseechingly and ordered her, "Go, now!"
Yet, moved as she was by his emphatic tone, she could not force herself to move her body. Instead, she remained standing at the ramp of the last transport as Obi-Wan put up a token resistance the Sith seemed wary to truly attack; the princess could feel some history there.
"By defeating me, you will make me more powerful than you can ever comprehend," the old Jedi declared with a certainty that could not have only Leia unnerved. Nevertheless, Vader lunged at him with a wide blow and…
Simply vanished his enemy. And while the black-armoured figure toed the robe of his vanquished enemy, Leia ran into the transport and the ship launched.
OOOOOOOO
Red Five, otherwise known as Luke Skywalker, was trading laser-fire with a group of Imperial TIEs, or 'eyeballs', as the other pilots liked calling them. Currently, it was an admittedly one-sided trade, with the Jedi apprentice generously dishing out punishment, relying on his reflexes and the superior tech of his X-wing to stay on top of their nimbler opponents.
"Red Leader, you got two on your tails," Luke warned their squadron leader, most of the time known as Garven Dreis. "I'll be on them shortly."
"Negative, Red Five," the deceptively calm voice of the older man sounded through their comms channel. "They've already managed to separate me and my wingman, there's an entire squadron between you and me. You're in charge now, so protect the bomb…"
Nothing more came through as in the distance a ball of fire became visible where only moments earlier the red of an X-wing's laser cannons had been illuminating the blackness of space. Luke just about managed to hold off a strangled cry at seeing the pilot die; he had been taken under this man's wings, eased into the transition between a skyhopper, basically a glorified speeder, and an actual fighter. Granted, they were made by the same people, so there was quite a bit of overlap, but the effort was surely appreciated.
"Luke," Biggs' voice echoed through the comms unit, sounding a lot like he had said the name before multiple times. "Our orders?"
The newly appointed squadron leader, not that there was much of a squadron left, with what losses they had incurred, took some time to fully immerse himself in the situation: most of the fighters assigned to their target had been taken out, the same was true for the TIEs guarding the interdictor. Where there once had been a wing of bombers making their way to the convoy of transports taking most of what was not bolted down away from their base (a fair few things that had been bolted down as well, now that he thought of it) the only thing that remained was some debris. Most definitely, the single biggest danger for their eventual success was the group of eyeballs now headed for the Y-wing bombers.
"Red Squadron, regroup," he therefore ordered the other pilots of the now halved force. "Form up on me, increase energy to the forward deflectors and do as much damage on those TIEs as you can. Keep them away from the bombers."
Confirmations of his orders still ringing in his ears, Luke banked his fighter around, Biggs and the others hot on his tail, even as the script running over the small screen affirmed that the astromech had indeed taken the initiative and diverted energy from their rear shielding to that in the front.
"Thanks, R2," he mumbled, though it was obviously loud enough for the droid to hear, given that a response appeared almost instantly. "Yes, this is rather risky. We need those Y-wings to reach the destroyer in one piece, though. Otherwise, those transports will be shot down in seconds."
More words appeared, yet Luke was unable to truly comprehend them, as the two groups came into contact with each other and lasers started impacting the strengthened shields. Just like he himself did it, the enemy fighters were soon squirming around, if such a thing could be said for a metal ball in space, making them hard to hit; nevertheless, applying what he had been learning from Ben, the young Jedi was able to take out three of them by himself, while the rest of Red Squadron managed to off another six. Yet, the feeling of victory was dampened by the loss of Red Four and the beginning of their close-fought dogfights. Here, the TIEs could really bring to bear their superior manoeuvrability.
A harsh tug on the flight-stick had the X-wing in a sharp turn, as Luke did his best to get behind what looked like the lead fighter, hoping that cutting off the chain of command might throw the enemy into some kind of disarray. That was when it happened.
Without warning, a sharp pain of loss erupted in the young man's chest, and without any real knowledge of the why, he simply knew Ben was no more.
OOOOOOOO
In orbit around Yavin 4, Harry Potter was just about done congratulating himself, when things got more complicated.
"We've got incoming!" Dawn Three said over the comms. "What the… I don't know these things, must be new."
Shortly, the new arrivals were on his sensor screen as well; twelve sensor contacts moving in quickly, their tight formation betraying the level of skill these pilots must have had to be allowed to fly these new fighters.
"Watch out, those look like four laser cannons," Dawn Two announced, obviously having engaged the optical scanning equipment onboard their M14-Xs to take a good look at the oncoming enemies. "And the bastards are fast, too!"
"Everyone, follow me," Harry ordered his squadron, even as he was already banking his fighter around. "We can't leave as long as the convoy's still in danger."
He watched as the other five pilots, those who had not been sent to deal with the bombers going for an attack run on the very ships Dawn Squadron had come to protect, formed up next to and behind him, the red of their hulls in stark contrast to the black and grey of their opponents.
"I want to see what these things can do," Harry announced, finger at the trigger, while the targeting computer locked in on one of the enemy craft. The squadron leader, incidentally. Then, he pressed down his finger and watched two of the ion torpedoes he still had loaded into the ordinance launcher speed away into the void. Against all reason, he was hoping they would be on target, but in the last moment, the fighter they had been tracking spun out of the way, the projectiles sailing past harmlessly.
"Okay, those things can move," Dawn Three commented wryly over the comms. "And the pilots aren't half bad either…"
"Energy to forward deflectors, give them everything you've got, then break formation and engage in dogfights," the newly minted squadron leader ordered his pilots. "Those things are at least as manoeuvrable as a standard TIE, so be careful. Now, fire at will."
And with that, an utter hailstorm of laser fire began crashing into the oncoming wave of enemies, who clearly had not been expecting this kind of firepower from a craft so small as their M-14Xs. As the lines drew closer, it became apparent that, while faster, more nimble and (if Harry's shield status was any indication) also more heavily armed than the Empire's go-to fighter model, the evil dictatorship being what it was, they had not been outfitted with deflector shields. It was a weakness the former slaves of said evil dictatorship were now gleefully using and, by the time their formations broke off, six of their adversaries had already been taken out of the fight.
With a swish of his hand, Harry reallocated energy to equalise shield strength all around his craft, a dogfight being way more chaotic, without any assurance from which direction fire would be coming. He turned his ship around, the light pressure on his body the down-regulated inertia dampeners let through enough to let him really feel the acceleration involved and set himself behind an enemy fighter.
In a way, it was like following after a snitch; a giant, black, dagger-winged snitch, and a rather deadly one at that, but still, a snitch. Slightly more manoeuvrable than he was, as was now becoming clear, but not so much that he was unable to keep up. However, things did get a bit dicey when two of the snitch's buddies, who seemed to have sussed Harry out as the leader, got on his case. It made the fireball enveloping his quarry much less of a victory.
"Yes, yes, I know our shields are almost down," the wizard grumbled at the interruption from the astromech squatting in his fighter. "Can anyone get these off…"
While before, things had been like following after a snitch, Harry was now feeling, like he was flying away from a bludger. Or rather, two bludgers; two very persistent bludgers that could not only match him in speed and manoeuvrability but also had the ability to actually shoot at him. So, possibly more like two unusually skilled flyers subbing in as beaters with an unlimited supply of bludgers. And there were no stands around that he might be able to use as…
As if guided by an invisible hand, almost out of necessity for his survival and the continuation of his story, the latest turn had placed him directly in view the adrift immobilizer cruiser, taken out of the fight by Dawn Squadron's salvo of ion torpedoes. And that command bridge seemed awfully close to the ship's topdeck. New determination coursed through his veins, as well as a slight bit of trepidation at the idea of what Leia might tell him she thought of his idea. Nevertheless, one further look at the shield readout provided enough incentive to make 'possibly smash against a larger ship' seem like a good chance.
"Power to the rear deflectors," Harry ordered in an effort to buy some time, while the interdictor quickly grew to a worrying size beyond the cockpit canopy. With mere metres left before he would have smashed into the metal plating, he pulled out of his 'dive' toward the cruiser and, metres open on three sides of his fighter, he wove through underneath the command bridge, probably scaring a good few officers aboard the enemy cruiser. Of course, that scare was probably compounded upon when, out of the two TIEs pursuing him, only one had the common sense to not do what he had done, while his wingman crashed into, for wont of a better word, the 'neck' section. With, most probably, all systems already completely on the fritz, this proved to be the coup-de-grace, for from where it had been rammed, a series of explosions started ripping through the entire hull, quickly enveloping the larger ship.
In the distance, a much smaller fireball could be seen, where there had once been the other of the squadron leader's two pursuers, one of the other members of Dawn squadron dodging the debris.
"Dawn One, this is Dawn Seven," the strained voice of the pilot who had, by nature of their placement in the squadron, taken over command of the fighters that had been sent out to hunt the bombers gunning for the convoy, sounded through the comms unit. "It was a bit of a struggle, but we managed to mostly keep them away from the transports, only lost one to a lucky torpedo hit."
"Acknowledged, outstanding job," Harry replied, smiling; that could have gone way worse. He then turned attention to the mirror being held in place against the canopy by a sticking charm. "Leia Organa."
The harried face appearing on the shiny surface was both supremely welcome and disheartening; still, not much more tired than she had seemed earlier. There was something else, though, even though now was most definitely not the time to discuss whatever that might be.
"We're out," the princess said without preamble, even her voice somehow radiating how tired she was and how badly she needed a rest. Then, as if gathering her wits for what she was about to say, Leia added, "Kenobi is dead; Luke probably already knows, I'm sure he would have felt it."
Not sure how he should respond, frankly not even whether he actually should respond in the first place, Harry let that rest for a while. "Thank you for telling me. See you at the rally point."
"Looking forward to it," Leia replied earnestly, even though a huge yawn was now gracing her face, before the mirror went blank again.
And then, with all Alliance forces in the field of battle patched in, Harry announced, "Dawn Leader here, the transports are about to jump, we're withdrawing."
OOOOOOOO
Interstellar space, Harry realised with a start, was even more empty than a solar system. Granted, that was not a particularly ground-breaking observation, but he found it to be profound enough, especially after he had already accepted the fact that, even the relatively tiny distances inside a system were in reality gigantic. Yet, that paltry size was simply dwarfed by the sheer void that was deep space. In fact, had he not known, where the Lightbringer and the Morningstar were to be found, and subsequently told the Rebels, he was quite sure he could have been searching for multiple lifetimes without ever finding the two ships.
Always ready as he was to sacrifice his own comfort, the captain had offered to be the last one to board the corvette, whose hangar capacity was simply not meant to hold an entire squadron of fighters, as compact as they might be. This limitation had led to the necessity of rotating landing spots: three of the pilots would land their craft, climb out and let their astromech fly off again, thus freeing the space for the next person to land. It was cumbersome and they were quite vulnerable like this, given how limited the piloting capabilities of an astromech were, but they would have to make do with it for the moment.
The last group of pilots, the one including Harry, was just landing in the Lightbringer's hangar bay when, close by, the Alliance convoy, including both the light transport carrying Leia and the Millennium Falcon, exited hyperspace, the craft quickly gathering around the sleek, dagger-shaped Raider. Climbing out of the cockpit, the only reason the young wizard did not stumble was the big hug he was enveloped in courtesy of a relieved Dathomirian witch, for whom this display of affection was rather unusual; it seemed she had indeed been rather worried.
"Hey, Arden. Nice to see you, too," Harry mumbled, suddenly bone-weary. "R3, take the fighter out to join the others, will you? I have a feeling we'll be needing the room."
With a beep of affirmation, the droid reengaged the repulsorlifts that pushed the ship away from the deck and pushed the throttle, making way for whoever might want to use the hangar space next. Still ensconced in his flight-suit (transfigured, of course), he scuffled to the turbolifts, took one to the crew-deck and made his way to the mess. Shipboard time was not indicative of there being any food available immediately, but he was hopeful that the return of the heroic fighter squadron would warrant at least some rations, for at this point, even completely unmodified Imperial field rations sounded absolutely heavenly.
Arden had remained by his side, even while giving him the information that, as his duty as the first officer demanded, Mercer was on the bridge, overseeing operations and keeping everyone on their toes, should any uninvited visitors arrive; the odds were on their side, but it generally paid not to underestimate the bad guys, Harry had learned. The pilots of Dawn Squadron had also joined their rather quiet victory procession, an air of righteous justice among them, and even Dawn Seven, who had been acting rather worryingly, seemed fundamentally better now. She was even wearing a smile, somewhat offsetting the scars and wounds all over her face.
When, five minutes later, each of them did indeed have a ready-to-eat military ration in front of them, no complaining could be heard. In fact, there was generally little talking done, as each and every one of them was taking in the meal with… well, not gusto, but more a sense of urgency. The cramped conditions in the fighter cockpits had not lent themselves well to in-flight snacking, and the battle, short as it might have been, had taken a toll on everyone. Harry had just reactivated the part of his personal datapad that was mounted on his wrist when the light indicating someone was contacting him began blinking.
"Yes, Mercer?" he yawned at the man. Incredibly rude, obviously, but he had not been able to suppress it.
"Hey, Boss," his second-in-command said, wide grin on his face. "Glad you survived. We have some Alliance brass asking to come aboard."
"Of course," the captain replied instantly. "Why are they even asking?"
Mercer looked at him funnily. "Because this is not an Alliance ship, no matter how some of them might like that to be the case. This is your… sorry, our ship."
"Fine," Harry sighed. "Permission to come aboard. There won't be any debriefing before I catch some sleep though."
"Aye, Boss," the older man acknowledged before cutting the feed, once again leaving the returning pilot to his less than appetising meal, of which only a few scant bites remained. These, too, were soon consumed, and the one who had done the consuming was on his way to his cabin, where, by simply cancelling the non-permanent transfiguration on his clothes, he was soon once again wearing the dark uniform of his small group. Harry had just thrown the last bit of clothing into the corner to dress somewhat more comfortably when, without much warning and a decided lack of any knocking, his cabin door opened. He would definitely have to get a lock on there, as much was sure.
With a very intimidating, not at all ridiculous 'Eeep', the young wizard jumped behind the door of his closet, where he had been ruffling through his meagre possessions for something fit to be worn as sleepwear.
"Mercer is that you?" he grumbled menacingly; or as menacing as one could be, with their eyes already drooping. "I swear, if it is, I will be showing Arden that stinging hex first thing in the morning."
However, the response was not in the Imperial deserters sometimes jovial, sometimes bitterly serious voice; instead, it came in the form of a voice he should have been expecting to hear rather soon, though for some reason he had not.
"No, it's me," Leia Organa announced herself, managing to banish most of her mirth at Harry's reaction from her tone. "I know you wanted to have some peace and quiet for a while, but I really nee… I mean wanted to see you were okay. Arden seemed to be delighted to send me here."
"Of course, she was," Harry replied, more commenting to himself than anything else.
"I can go, if you want to?" she ventured, though not even the sometimes emotionally inept man that was Harry Potter could miss the vulnerability. That would not do at all, for her to feel pushed away; he had come to save her more than anyone else, after all.
"Only if you come back in in, say two minutes," he joked light-heartedly. Her mere presence had an immediate mood-lifting effect. "I'm not all that… clothed, right now."
Hearing his door close once again, along with a quick 'See you then,' had Harry change into his sleepwear in record time, though he did do his best to choose something that would conceal more of him than what would be the norm; there was no point in being presumptuous, really. So, it came that he was already snuggled up under his blanket, barely able to keep his eyes open, when Leia once again entered his room. Now that he could really see her, it was once again obvious what kind of toll the last few days had taken on all of them.
Nevertheless, she had never been more beautiful to him than in that moment, as she smiled at him widely and ran to envelop him in a crushing hug that distantly reminded him of the ones that another brunette he had once known with equally fascinating hair had delighted in doling out. Yet, despite knowing of the possibilities Harry knew existed between him and Hermione (thanks to what he had seen during 'the displacement'), this one felt very different for what actually was there already between him and Leia, even if he was patently unable to characterise, what exactly it was.
"I'm so glad you're okay," she mumbled into his chest, something that would most definitely take some getting used to; there were never that many people to hug him like that, and the one to do it most, Gryffindor's resident whiz-kid, had first been taller than him, before he eventually caught up and ended up being around a hand's width taller. So, someone reaching only to his chest was kind of a new experience; obviously, the fact that she was on his bed and he was only in his pyjamas made the whole thing… different too.
Apparently though, Leia had more of a handle on what exactly she expected to happen, as she soon started settling in next to him. In fact, she had just about wiggled her way under the covers with him, when Harry stopped her.
"Uh, what're you doing?" he asked with one raised eyebrow. "Not that I'm objecting, I'm just…"
"…clueless," Leia finished for him, half-jokingly. "Don't worry, we're both too tired for anything, anyway. Let's talk tomorrow. For now, I would just like to sleep here. It makes me feel safe."
"Sure thing," Harry replied with all the nonchalance he could muster, despite how much he too was looking forward to as relaxing a night as the last occasion in which he had served as a pillow to the Alderaanian princess had provided. "Would it be alright if a transfigure your clothes into something more comfortable."
"Sure, why do you ask?" the already sleep-addled young woman replied, after she had finally managed to get under the covers and into the warmth.
"Well, it is kind of an invasion of privacy. My magic is a part of me, which would then be all over you…"
"I don't mind, just do it."
Her permission granted, Harry grabbed for his wand, always lying on his nightstand, and did his best to approximate what he thought was some modest sleepwear for women, not to mention fit for her size. Considering Leia was already nodding off and did not complain, it seemed to be fine.
"Night, you."
"Good night."