Chapter Three: Man with a Mission

Star Wars + Harry Potter Crossover

A/N: A day late, but here you go. Review responses are in my forums as normal. Thank you all for the overwhelming response. I hope everyone continues to enjoy!

Chapter Three: Man with a Mission

Harry had no idea how to do what he promised Nadist. Holdig himself would not have known, having never actually been given direct command of much of anything. His confident step faltered as he left the executive level of the headquarters and moved into the lift. A standard black protocol droid stepped into the lift with him.

Just on a whim, he said, "I don't suppose you know how to go about requisitioning a tech team for a special assignment, do you?"

The droid turned its view sensors toward him. "Why, yes sir, I would be happy to assist you. There are currently fourteen methods you could use to communicate with Acquisitions a desire to obtain the services of technicians, depending on the nature of the mission and how critical it is to the current base objectives and parameters. First you could use inter-compound instant…."

"So I just go talk to Acquisitions?"

The droid's eyes were perfectly round and lit from behind, and yet somehow it still gave the impression of blinking. "Well, yes sir, you certainly could. In point of fact, that would have been my thirteenth suggestion right after…"

"Where is Acquisitions?"

"Second sublevel, sir."

"Thank you."

The talkative droid stepped off on the fourth floor; Harry continued to the second sublevel. The halls were narrow, utilitarian grey and dimly lit. The passage had the feeling of emptiness Perhaps in the Empire, human resources was completely run by droids. "A step up, as like," he muttered.

He found the appropriate door and stepped into a small, cramped, nearly empty space filled with only a single black protocol droid almost identical to the one on the lift, and a single computer terminal.

"Good afternoon. My name is Lieutenant Holdig, I need to…"

"With respect, sir, you are not Lieutenant Holdig," the droid interrupted in a grating, masculine voice that reminded Harry of Percy Weasley. "The lieutenant is 24 years standard age, weighs roughly 84 kilograms and has brown hair. You appear to be in your late teens, weigh roughly 68 kilograms and have black hair. Additionally, my facial recognition program cannot identify you in any of my files. Therefore, I must conclude you are an imposter."

"Really?" Harry sent a pulse of magic, and suddenly the droid slumped over. A quick look around showed there were no officers on duty or even security monitors. It turned out visiting the acquisitions office in person truly was one of the last methods officers resorted to.

Harry hopped over the desk, popped the droid's back panel, and cast the technomage spell since he otherwise would have had no idea what to do. However, with magic guiding him based on his intent, he reached in and reset the droid's security protocols. When he hopped back over and reactivated it, the droid straightened and said, "How may I help you?"

"Two things," Harry said. "First, I've had facial reconstruction surgery and wish to update my file with my new biometrics. Can you do that from this station or must I go to personnel?"

"I can assist you, sir." It took ten minutes for the droid to overwrite Holdig's physical features, blood type and fingerprints with those of Harry Potter. When that was done, Harry then discussed with the droid how to go about requisitioning techs for a special task force.

"Technicians are unfortunately in short supply," the droid said. "All technical teams were moved to the station last month and are scheduled to remain there for the remainder of the project. It appears that Colonel Nadist has given you an unwinnable challenge."

The droids remark made Harry stop mid-breath. "What did you say?"

"Colonel Nadist has a history of testing officers he thinks show potential. He will give them a task which would be difficult if not impossible to accomplish using normal methods to see what if any approach they take to get around the problem."

Harry thought about that, and from his brief meeting, believed it. "Tell me, how much leeway do I have with the slaves?"

"Unless you have orders to the contrary, officers can use slaves however they see fit so long as those uses do not impact final mission parameters. Many use former prisoners from the prison colony as housekeepers, for instance."

"And training?"

"We have a variety of training programs available, of course," the droid said. "Neural interfacing is an effective means of imparting important information in a short period of time."

"Has neural interfacing been used on the Terran slaves?"

"Yes, sir, though the Terran slaves show some irregularities with their DNA, they are classified as baseline humans, and as such neural interface technology is quite effective for them. In fact, several conscripted technicians aboard the station originated as slaves."

"Where are the neural interface facilities?"

"Every slave dormitory has a conditioning chamber with five interfaces, sir."

Harry grinned as a plan began to take shape. "Okay, let's start with programs in Basic, droid programming and droid engineering."

"Yes, sir,"

~~Revenge~~

~~Revenge~~

"You men; come with me," Harry said as he stepped out of the personal hovervan he requisitioned from the transport pool. He pointed to a pair of Stormtroopers standing guard outside the main entrance of the slave dormitory. The two fell in behind him without comment as he walked into the monolithic structure that housed his old slave group. At night, most of the guarding of the slaves was done by automated weaponry and droids to minimize the amount of personnel necessary during evening shifts. Inside the door stood the ever-present protocol droid to translate, since none of the slaves knew Basic. At his command, it fell into place as well as they approached the slave hall. It was late, half an hour after the slaves had returned, and all were already fed, bathed and placed naked into their cages.

"Use the intercom to ask for all persons who recognize the word "Quidditch" to come to the main door for special duties," Harry told the droid. "Repeat that word exactly as I pronounced it."

The Stormtroopers behind him shared a glance but said nothing. The droid faithfully translated the message into the intercom. Harry, meanwhile, watched the security cameras. It was a risk, and if it did not work it would not affect his idea too badly, but if it did work it would make things easier. Statistically speaking, it had every chance of working.

"Some are coming," one of the Stormtroopers noted. Harry looked and fought of an urge to smile—some really were coming. A dozen at least, from first glance. That number was low, but then again wizards had less of a chance being caught than Muggles. Harry was only captured because he was on the frontline fighting the invaders. "Sir, I am required to remind you to wear your helmet at all times around slaves."

To the trooper who spoke, he nodded. "Indeed. Bring them out." He then pulled on the featureless black helmet that made all the imperials look so alien.

The two troopers released the locking mechanism of the slave quarters, stepped inside, and returned with a line of a dozen naked slaves. All appeared young at first glance, which was not surprising since the older slaves were the first to die: five men, seven women, all of European origins.

"Bring them to the conditioning chamber." Harry led the way down the narrow passageway that ran to a chamber he'd never seen, but just recently read about while researching his options. The chamber had five tables against a wall, and above them was a mounted neural interface unit.

"First five in the chairs," Harry said. "Colonel Nadist said I needed techs when none are available, so I'm just going to make my own."

"Yes, sir," the Stormtrooper said. The five slaves looked at the chair in terror but knew better than to resist as they were strapped in. Harry ordered the droid to begin the procedure, and then cast a privacy spell over himself and the remaining seven slaves.

"Do not respond to what I'm about to tell you," Harry said calmly to them in English, never taking his eyes of those receiving the entire Basic language in a flash of implanted neurons. "I am a wizard from Earth. London, to be precise. If you recognized the word Quidditch, I'm assuming you are either magical or know of magic. Those chairs are going to teach you the aliens' language and technology, enough to function in their society and to perform a specific job. Know this—the bastards that raped our world are human. Not human-like, but human."

He glanced at the seven and saw them struggling to keep their faces blank. The first five twitched occasionally in the interface chairs with involuntary spasms as information flooded their brains, but made no sound. When the procedures were done, the Stormtroopers shoved them off to make room for the next five.

Harry cast another privacy charm and repeated his message to the first five, who now spoke Basic and understood droid programming. When all twelve were done, Harry said, "Congratulations," Harry said in Basic when all were done. "You are all now conscripts for the Imperial Army. You are my technical team, and we will be extremely busy for the next few days. I understand that it takes at least six hours for the information to saturate your primitive little minds. Therefore, you are to return to your bunks with the other slaves. However, tomorrow you will be given separate assignments, and thereafter will be housed with conscripts. Return to your cots now."

The twelve looked down as they walked out of the room under the watchful gaze of the two troopers. Harry turned to the droid. "Does your facial recognition subroutine remember their faces?"

"Yes, Lieutenant, I will communicate your orders for tomorrow morning."

"Good. I will also require the Wookiee named Shewtalla. Please make arrangements with the charge captain that I am on special assignment from Colonel Nadist."

"I will inform all parties."

"Good. Dismissed."

Harry returned not to his personal quarters, but once again to the now very friendly droid in requisitions office in the Imperial compound. He was pleased to learn that barring any contradictory orders he had a massive leeway to do what he wanted with the slave population in support of his mission objectives. Elevating them to conscripts fell within that leeway, since he was not drawing resources from any other area.

It took a search by the droid, which Harry decided to call Weatherby, to find a temporary mobile personnel habitat in storage in the base. According to the base records, the transports originated as massive tanks called Juggernauts which were converted to be used as housing for the first Imperial residents as they established the penal colony on the planet. They were refitted to house fifty staff for up to six months at a time.

It was perfect. With a few forms and records, he had droids stocking the transport for extended use. He even requisitioned a Wookiee to act as the driver, since no other personnel remained on the planet to use it. He finally stumbled back to his cramped quarters, physically exhausted but mentally charged.

For the first time in months, Harry had a plan to finally do something. It might not gain him the revenge he wanted, but it was something. For the first time since it all ended, the numbness in his soul began to fade before a low flame of anger.

~~Revenge~~

~~Revenge~~

"Tell us the story again, Daddy!"

Harry Potter, Order of Merlin First Class, Grand Sorcerer, Director of the British Department of Magical Law Enforcement and Mage General of the International Confederation of Wizards, sat in a café off Piccadilly drinking coffee while discussing his godson's personnel file with his head Auror, Terry Boot. Teddy Lupin had just graduated from the Auror academy, and they were trying to find the best place to use the young Metamorphmagus.

Harry's own children were all at home at Grimmauld Place enjoying the last days of summer. This was to be James's last year at Hogwarts. He was not Head Boy, but he was a prefect and in the top ten list of a class easily five times as large as the class that saw Harry's friends finish. Harry wore his glamour, of course, because he was a forty-three year old man who looked seventeen without it. He would not be able to function in the Ministry if his staff knew his son looked older than he did.

Harry and Terry were still on their first cup of coffee when someone turned the wall telly up to full volume. The inch-thick screen dominated the entire wall behind the bar, and the two wizards, along with everyone else, could clearly see an image of space just a few hundred miles over their heads. In the centre of the screen it showed the International Space Station.

What truly captured the attention of all the people around them was not the space station, but rather the object floating ten thousand meters away from it. The object was roughly triangular, with what appeared to be a command tower at the thickest section of the massive grey craft. It was also huge, being easily a kilometre and a half or more in length.

More alarming yet, according to the reporter covering the story, two identical objects hovered over Beijing and Washington, D.C. "And there you can see it, ladies and gentlemen," the reporter announced from hidden speakers over the wall-sized display, which provided a view so clear it felt as if Harry were on the edge of space himself.

A space shuttle departed from one of the many spindly protrusions of the space station. It fired orbital positioning thrusters long enough to move toward the kilometre-long alien ship.

"Shuttle Friendship has left the station and is proceeding slowly toward the alien craft," the speaker said. The announcer sounded male, young and nervous, but hiding it well, Harry thought.

"Ladies and gentlemen, something is happening!"

"This isn't good," Terry said, and Harry could only agree.

The view zoomed with dizzying speed to something on the arched dorsal side of the ship. Harry felt the pit of his stomach drop, while around him others gasped in dismay. What could only be a gun turret was rotating on the ship. It was not even the largest such turret they could see. It spun around until it pointed at the coming shuttle, and spat out a single bolt of green light.

Harry closed his eyes for the men and women on the shuttle, for the moment the green bolt struck the shuttle flared a brilliant white, and then was no more. Suddenly the whole ship began to spin on its long axis, bringing those turrets around to face Earth. The screen suddenly split into three images as satellite feeds brought them the sight of the other two ships doing the same thing.

"Oh my God," the announcer said, momentarily forgetting he was being broadcast, or more likely not caring any more.

Two more bolts of green light seared through space and impacted the station. It shattered like a water balloon impacting the sidewalk at speed, leaving only spinning shrapnel. "Terry, come on, we need to get to the Ministry!" Harry said.

"Right," Terry agreed in a hollow voice. Emerging in the street, they found the lanes choked with pedestrians staring up into the blue sky where, even in broad daylight, they could see the massive ship in orbit. The shape reminded Harry of a dagger poised to plunge into the heart of Britain.

He had only a moment's warning before a massive column of green light slammed through the atmosphere and into central London. Harry had a glimpse of clouds puffing away in rings from the energy that vaporized their moisture on the way down, and then white light. He grabbed Terry as everything went white and Apparated away. He emerged twenty miles away to see a mushroom cloud rising into the air where London used to be. "Terry, we have to get to…Terry?"

He looked to his long-time friend, colleague and classmate, and fought against the urge to vomit. In his haste to save him, Harry had splinched Terry in half. The half he held was blackened and charred from the explosion, proving that he could not have survived regardless. A second later, Harry realized that he too was burned. The pain struck with such shocking power he fell to his knees and screamed in agony.

It took all his will not to pass out, and more than that to point his wand at his arm to cast a burn salve charm. It took half a dozen of the charms to cover his arms, shoulder and back where he received the worst of the burns. He knew that even with his magic he should have been passing out from shock, but instead he felt numb and terrified.

In the distance, two more massive mushroom clouds joined the first as the alien craft continued to pound London.

The numbness extended not just to his body, but to his soul. He knew everything and everyone he loved was in London. However, before blind panic kicked in, Auror training took over. With a last glance at his dead friend, Harry Apparated to the Burrow. He appeared at the apparition point by the gate and stumbled with a sudden wave of dizziness. It must have come from his burns, but he shrugged it off and stumbled up the dirt path toward the Burrow. He had not even made it to the front door when he heard Molly's keening.

He didn't bother to knock as he stumbled in. She saw him as he stepped into the kitchen and screamed. "Harry, you're hurt!"

And, even realizing his whole body was covered in burn salves, she came barrelling toward him for a hug. He held up both hands and shook his head, not trusting himself to speak. Instead, he turned and looked at the reason for her grief. His heart stopped for a second as he saw the Weasley Family Clock, which had been expanded into a whole diagram of names. And yet, almost all the names were the same status: Black.

Fred and Angelina Weasley and their children, Fred Weasley II and Roxanne Weasley, dead; Ron and Hermione Weasley and their children, Rose Weasley and Hugo Weasley, dead; Percy and Audrey Weasley and their children Molly Weasley and Lucy Weasley, dead; Arthur Weasley, dead; Ginevra Potter and her children, James Albus Potter, Albus Severus Potter and Lily Luna Potter….dead.

Bill, Fleur and their children were in mortal peril, as was Charlie and Molly. The only one that did not indicate mortal peril was Harry, but Molly was too heart-broken to mention or even notice it. Almost her entire family was gone in a single blast.

Something broke in Harry when he saw Ginny's and James's clock hands in the black. He felt something cold and hard forming in his chest. Molly was crying, gibbering in fact, while at the same time wiping her already clean kitchen counter with a rag. He knew, without question, that the loss of her family had destroyed her. Molly Weasley would never recover from such a loss. Not knowing what else to do, he gripped her shoulder and Apparated them both to Shell Cottage.

"Harry!" Harry turned and saw Fleur, her daughter Victoire and Teddy Lupin running into the cottage's den where they kept the fireplace. As numb as he was, he was still able to smile weakly at seeing his godson alive. "Harry," Teddy said, "what happened?"

"I was in London when it was hit," he said. "I Apparated out, but not before getting burned. They're gone, Teddy. All of them."

Molly simply collapsed to the floor, blubbering. Clicking her tongue, the still beautiful Fleur rushed to her aid, while Harry's godson and the young man's fiancée came to him. "We're hearing so many wild things over the wireless, Harry. What's going on?"

"Aliens," Harry said, surprised at how reasonable the once insane word sounded from his lips. "They destroyed the Muggle space station and then started firing on London, Beijing and Washington. They're all gone, Teddy. I saw the family clock." He couldn't trust himself to speak any more, and suddenly the dizziness became more than he could stand.

His last thought was that he would never again hear his precious little girl say, "Tell us the story again, Daddy!"

~~Revenge~~

~~Revenge~~

Harry woke with a start as his alarm went off. It took an act of physical will to push himself out of his bed and into the small fresher. He changed into his last clean uniform, using simple charms to ensure the fit, and dumped the piles of dirty clothes Holdig had left down the laundry chute for servicing.

The sun was just rising as he made his way to the transport bay to find his prize. When he arrived, even he was surprised at just how large the vehicle was. The ten-wheeled monstrosity looked vaguely like a beetle, only a beetle that was fifty meters long, thirty meters high and equipped with a heavy laser cannon and an anti-personnel laser cannon.

Standing in front of one of the wheels stood an ancient Wookiee, his fur long since gone to grey. He stood slightly stooped, and one of his canines was chipped off entirely. The ever-present droid was there as Harry approached.

"Tell the pup I am Tooshil, and I stand ready," the old Wookiee snarled.

Before the droid could translate, Harry said, "Good morning, Tooshil. I happen to understand Shyriwook, so please speak directly to me. I am Lieutenant Holdig. Droid, we won't have need of your services today."

"Yes, sir," the droid said before walking away.

When the droid left, Tooshil scratched at the thinning fur on his head. "You're the pup Shewtalla spoke of?"

"Probably," Harry said. "We must hurry—we have a dozen new conscripts to pick up."

The vehicle was so large it had its own turbolift, which dropped down from the central fuselage and carried them into the body. In the original specs Harry studied the previous night, the craft would have been filled with missiles, tabanna gas cells for the turbolasers, and infantrymen. Most of the armament had since been cleared out, and in its place were small alcoves containing two cots with small personal areas by each one comprised of a surface that could be a desk, table or entertainment hub.

With this configuration, it could comfortably house two hundred people for a month.

Harry followed Tooshil through the narrow hall to the command deck. The tank was almost as tall as the wall, and the whole machine thrummed like a factory droid as the ancient Wookiee started it up. "Cub must wear his helmet in front of the primitives," Tooshil said. "The Imperials will know if you do not."

"Yes, you're right."

Harry pulled his helmet on as Tooshil drove them through the open gates of the vehicle pool yard and toward the hoversleds in the distance which were even then loading slaves for the day's shift at the droids.

Standing to one side of the shuffling line waited the twelve possible witches and wizards Harry conditioned last night, flanked by Shewtalla the Wookiee and four Stormtroopers. Harry suspected the four Stormtroopers were a condition of his taking the slaves. Though he had enormous leeway with them, security had to be adhered to. A droid as always stood by Shewtalla to translate.

"Stay here and be ready to leave toward the refinery droids. We'll drive to droid one first."

Tooshil nodded with a grunt. Harry left him, walked through the long, narrow hall and reached the central lift. He emerged from the personnel transport with his black helmet on, making him look the same as every other overseer. "Load them up," he ordered in Basic.

He watched as the twelve young people in orange jumpsuits walked toward the lift, which was large enough to fit their entire party. "Sir," one of the Stormtroopers said, "Sargent Ala'shiil wished me to convey to you that standard procedure calls for slaves to be returned to the dormitory after eighteen hours."

"Thank you, trooper," Harry said. "However, these are no longer slaves. They are now conscripts and fall under Army rules of labour. Please secure the conscripts on the upper deck alcoves and then report to the galley for a mission briefing."

"Sir, yes sir," the Stormtrooper said. Harry knew from his reading that troopers were actually outside the normal army chain of command—they were the Emperor's soldiers first and foremost, and by protocol were merely on loan to the armed services of the Empire. However, in practice, Stormtroopers were also almost all enlisted, with a very small cadre of officers, and so naval and army officers often led the troopers in combat situations.

Harry returned the salute and watched as the troopers roughly herded the conscripts to their place. Harry motioned Shewtalla to the driver's chamber, and when they were sufficiently spread away from the troopers, conscripts and droid, said, "Are you with me?"

"I owe the ravagers nothing but hate and contempt," the Wookiee said. "Be it my life, I owe them nothing. But you…you saved my life, and the lives of many others. So for this, I am with you."

"Good," Harry said, grinning behind his helmet. "Then come to the galley, please."

He and Shewtalla moved through the narrow hall that ran along the upper deck of the massive vehicle, which was even then barrelling across the desert at one hundred and sixty clicks an hour. When they emerged into the galley, the four troopers came to attention. Harry raised a hand, and with all his magic pushed out his most powerful stupefy.

The four troopers flew back against the far wall and slid unconscious to the floor of the galley. "You are Jedi!" Shewtalla said.

"No, like I said before, I'm a wizard," Harry said. "Earth did not have these Jedi. I use magic. Can you turn that droid off and bring the others here?"

Shewtalla barked her consent and turned to do as he asked as Harry removed the helmets of the four troopers. By the second helmet, Harry started to feel less sure of himself, and by the forth he was actually alarmed. All four men were identical, with short-cropped, greying black hair, a Mediterranean or Polynesian skin tone and slightly Asiatic features. They had distinguishing features such as tattoos and varying styles of hair, but their colouring and facial features were identical. They also all appeared to be in their forties.

The first of the witches and wizards arrived and stopped just inside the galley, staring down at the four stunned troopers, then at Harry. Realizing he still had his helmet on, he undid the neck lining that kept it sealed tight, and pulled it off.

One of the women in front stared at him, mouth again, before she finally said, "Blimey, you're 'Arry Potter!"

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Author's Note: Once again I just wish to stress just how much I appreciate Teufel1987, JR and Miles for beta reading yet another of my stories. As always, they make everything better.