"So, tell me, what do I need to know about my new ship?" Harry asked, feeling like a bouncing ball of energy that particular morning.
Maybe, possibly he had served as a sounding board and then cushion for the, in his honest, wholly biased opinion, quite awesome Princess Leia Organa the previous evening; not that he would tell anyone, because doing so would mean it would get back to Arden and Mercer, who would then most likely start ripping him about it mercilessly.
"Well, well, well Boss…" the older man greeted him on the bridge of the Lightbringer, and Harry immediately knew he would be embarrassed. "Guess we aren't too lowly for you after all, even if you're now consorting with a princess."
Cursing his own prediction's accuracy in this case, the wizard did his damnedest not to blush too overtly.
"None of your business," he replied eloquently. "And there was no consorting, at least not the kind you mean when you say it like that… 'consorting'."
Hearing that answer, Mercer grinned evilly. "No consorting? Trust me Boss, it happens to a lot of guys. I mean, you're under a lot of stress… Ow, ow, ow!"
"Stinging hexes," Harry informed the older man. "Be nice, or they'll be the next thing I teach to Arden. Now, let's try again: What do I need to know about my new ship?"
Grumbling a bit about the general unfairness of life among Force-sensitives, Mercer nonetheless began talking to him about the specifics of their Raider-II-class corvette.
"150 metres, class 1 hyperdrive, as opposed to the class 2 in the Raider-Is, small hangar/vehicle-bay; should fit around three to four fighters along with our larty, depending on the size, and maybe a few speeders," he rattled down, counting off the points on his fingers. "Six heavy double laser-cannon turrets under breakaway panels on the top deck, two light single turbo-laser turrets on the sides, ion cannons and two ordnance launchers the Rebels were nice enough to install for us."
Having gotten an extensive education on starship weaponry during their trip back to Yavin 4, Harry was aware of the different weapon types and could immediately spot the anti-fighter role for which the ship had been designed.
"As for modifications: we tore out most of the crew quarters, took down some walls, replaced some of the tiered bunks with cots, built a shooting range, training room, workshop." All the while Mercer was talking, the charmingly smarmy smile grew ever wider. "Really, these KDY ships are horribly overstaffed; also, I've looked over the applications and transfer requests for our crew. I'm guessing you saw the new paintjob and the loss of the solar panels."
Harry's eyebrows had been steadily rising, as he was well aware. "You did all of this, in three days?"
"We had many volunteers," Mercer offered for an explanation, just as the shoe dropped on everything else, he had just said.
"Wait, applications and transfer requests?" the captain inquired, causing a low chuckle from the former Imperial.
"You didn't think we could fly something like this all by ourselves, did you?" he asked, even though he clearly already knew the answer.
"Hadn't really thought about it…" Harry admitted. "How many do we need? And how will we pay them?"
"Short answer: around twenty, plus four for the Morningstar, maybe some foot soldiers. And we won't be paying them." At Harry's affronted look, Mercer elaborated, "We provide room and board, as well as a cut from any bounty we rake in. It's standard practice among the larger bounty hunter crews. Believe me, the kind of people we can hunt with this ship will have each and every one of them swimming in credits soon enough."
As he mulled over what had been said, an odd discrepancy jumped out at Harry and he questioned, "Why were there so many quarters when the ship can be run with so few people?"
Mercer sighed loudly and let himself sink down the side of the small walkway intersecting the two pits where the bridge crew had their stations. "As I said, KDY vessels are notoriously overstaffed, and the Raiders are actually quite tame to what you can find on an ISD," he explained. "Firstly, the Empire has almost infinite funding, especially now that the Death Star is finished, and their defence budget is huge. At the same time, the more people they bind directly to themselves, either by having them join the military or having them work in semi or fully nationalised companies, the more loyalty they engender. Therefore, manpower is almost unlimited, at least where less specialised skills are concerned. I mean, just look at how they burn through pilots with those TIEs."
Harry nodded, while he continued listening closely. "So, any gain in efficiency is worth it, even if it means the crew grows by twenty more people. Also, the more people you have on a ship, the better they can keep an eye on each other; some COMPNOR observers are open secrets, some you may never know about. Even the possibility that anyone in your direct group of associates might be a snitch is enough to discourage rebellious ideas in many heads."
In that moment, the young wizard realised that, the more he heard about the Empire, the less he liked it.
"That threat of retribution thing they have going on with the Death Star," he analysed wide-eyed. "They're doing the same thing to their own soldiers…"
Mercer nodded gravely. "Combine that with the fact that many still remember the Clone Wars, and much fewer people than you would think desert or defect, even with all the evil stuff the Empire does. Now, on to less depressing topics: starfighters…"
OOOOOOOO
"You'll be careful?" Leia assured herself as she and Harry were watching the people who would be joining the crews of the Morningstar and the Lightbringer walk to their respective ships. Most were former Imperials who had been 'captured' during the raid, but some were also Alliance special forces who were hoping to get some more training in under Captain Potter, maybe 'get some of that cool armour'. And, in the case of Hound, the former Bothan scout and now special forces soldier, it was the chance at his own command, which he now held over the Morningstar.
"I am always careful," Harry insisted, perhaps a bit too forcefully to be believable.
Leia, whom he had come to know as someone with the required drive to sacrifice for the cause, should the need arise, chose not to comment on it. Instead, she asked, "So, who is your target?"
Harry shrugged his shoulders. "No idea, Arden picked them. Somewhere around Corellia, though," he replied, confident that any target the Dathomirian picked would be both worth their time and absolutely deserving of whatever they were handed.
"And you're sure each and every one of the new recruits is on the right side of this?" the Princess inquired, glancing worriedly at the group of people vanishing into the belly of the Lightbringer.
"Yeah," the wizard replied confidently. "They all agreed to have their minds searched by me; if a spy manages to stay undetected through that, they deserve to be able to do all the spying they want."
Despite herself, a small little laugh escaped Leia's lips. "I'm going to miss you," she finally said, as everything seemed to be ready for take-off. "I know you made those mirrors, but they won't be the same."
"No, they won't," Harry agreed melancholically. "Still better than nothing. Be safe, Leia."
"You too," the young woman said, and gave him a shy kiss on the lips. "'Vincent'."
Without another look back, he had the feeling that would only make things more painful, the captain boarded his ship via the large ramp. Inside the hangar, the new crewmembers were arrayed before the painted-black dropship, inside of which stood Mercer like he was using it as a platform.
"Hello everyone," Harry greeted them as soon as he stood next to the older man, eliciting a smattering of greetings amongst the gathered. "I want to thank each and every one of you for joining us on the Lightbringer, we quite literally couldn't do it without you. You've all met Lieutenant Fenwick, he's my second-in-command, and out of a weird hobby also the one you can thank for designing both our armour and the new uniforms that you will be finding in your quarters later."
Some laughter seemed to be making the rounds at that, as people seemed unsure whether their captain was joking or actually telling the truth.
"Now, almost everything aboard this ship will be open to some debate, within reason, but I won't stand for mistreatment among the crew. Some of you might be Imperial deserters, some of you might have been harmed by the Empire in the past, but from this point in time onward, I expect you to be one thing above all else: a team," Harry iterated the ground-rule he had thought up for his ship. "There will be no bullying, no excessive baiting, no physical altercations. And just to make one thing clear, that absolutely includes the droids; whether you think their consciousness is on the same level as that of organics is irrelevant. They are an important part of our crew without which we would need many, many more crewmembers meaning less bunk-space for each and every one of us. If you have a conflict with another crewmember, come to one of the five of us and we'll settle it."
The gathered crew nodded acceptingly, and Harry felt a surge of gratitude for Mercer, who had obviously chosen them well; even the group of astromechs standing in the back (they were the Raider's original complement and their ownership had simply been reset by Alliance slicers) seemed happy.
"Any questions?" he called out, receiving a resounding 'No, Sir!'. "Very well, then. I'll hand over to Arden Tla, 2nd Lieutenant and probably our hand-to-hand combat instructor."
An unsettlingly eager gleam in her eyes, of which Harry was not sure where it came from, the witch stepped onto the larty and addressed the crowd. "1600 hours, training room. Mandatory for all personnel unless you have a shift. We'll be using hands, knives, sticks, staves, and everything else you can think of that you can hit somebody with," she announced, only increasing the eagerness on many of the faces, especially those Harry recognised as Rebel or former Imperial soldiers. "I'll be coordinating any training we do on this ship, so if you have some special skill you would like to share with the others, let me know. The shooting range is open all through the day, as is the training room. Every day at 0900 hours, I'll ask the soldiers among you to help any non-combat personnel with their shooting, because everyone on this ship will be expected to wear a handgun and a knife at all times. You will attend shooting training three times a week. Any questions?"
A rather placid-looking man in mechanics' overalls held up his hand and was signalled to speak by the witch.
"What if we don't want to learn how to fight?" he asked, to the astonishment of many of his comrades.
"In that case, there's the door," Harry pointed toward the ramp. "We are going to be in dangerous situations, and while we will do our best to not let it happen, we might be boarded someday. Usually a ship like this would have a complement of thirty troops, we're only thirty people overall. I won't be sending the technicians or the bridge crew into battle, I just want you to be able to defend yourself should it become necessary."
The captain's impassioned speech had convinced the unwilling technician and the man did not take the opportunity to leave.
"Alright, if we're done with that," Arden picked back up after waiting a few more moments should another question come up. "The target we're going after is a group of pirates preying on smaller freighters around Corellia. They haven't done anything big enough, yet, to annoy the Empire, but the Corellians want them dealt with; there is a bounty both on the destruction of their operation, as well as on many of the members of this group. We will let you in on any important information that comes up. Questions?"
There were none, so Harry retook the stage. "Alright, you will find your quarters according to your datapads. Once there, you can change into your uniforms. Well launch in fifteen minutes, those slotted in for bridge duty are obviously required to attend, everyone else is, of course, welcome. Dismissed!"
Over the din of retreating footsteps, no communication was possible, so the five members of the original crew waited for the new members to be gone until they began talking amongst themselves.
"Good speech, Boss," Mercer commented. "Although, making Arden a 2nd Lieutenant? We all know she's more of a drill sergeant, right?"
Harry scowled at his second-in-command. "What did I just tell the crew about baiting people?"
Both Arden and Mercer looked at him sweetly, with her even trying to bat her eyelashes, not that it was particularly effective.
"But we both have fun with it…" the witch objected. "Surely there's no harm in that?"
With a loud sigh that told everyone of his resignation as to the matter Harry allowed, "Fine, but not in front of the crew. We have to set an example."
"Deal," Mercer interjected. "So, Arden, anything more about that bounty?"
OOOOOOOO
On the flattened, jungle-free area in front of the massive Great Temple on Yavin's fourth moon, a large crowd of Alliance personnel had gathered to watch the departure of the two ships. Both of them had been painted in an intimidating, maybe frightening matte black. Yet, in combination with the golden accents strewn across their hulls, the design was not without a certain beauty. A dangerous beauty, sure, but beauty, nonetheless.
Chief amongst those watching were certainly the attending generals, as well as the orphan Princess of Alderaan, all four of them standing at the forefront of the crowd as they watched the engines on both ships burn and the vessels themselves slowly lift into the sky.
"I really hope they do decide to join the Alliance at some point," Vernan commented to the enthusiastic nodding of Cracken. "All of them, especially Potter, could be a huge asset to special operations."
There seemed to be general agreement on that. "Did you notice they did not need to bunker any fuel?" Dodonna asked his fellow officers, all the while watching they were not overheard.
"Oh yes; some more of those abilities of his I would assume," Vernan observed drily.
"Then why would he not share that with us?" Dodonna questioned, quite obviously getting rather annoyed with the young mage, or sorcerer.
"Because we did not tell him we needed it," Leia interceded on Harry's behalf. "I think he assumes that, since we did not ask, we have no problems with fuel. Had we asked, he would probably refuse to do whatever he did to the Lightbringer to any other ship for fear of it falling into the wrong hands, but I can guarantee you that he would think of something he would be willing to do. He might ask for a favour, but could we really complain about that?"
With no one willing to contradict her on her point, the Princess turned back around to watch as the Morningstar and the larger corvette, a bit like a big sibling, were getting smaller and smaller.
Damn, she was missing Harry already.
OOOOOOOO
It was a groaning, sore group of people that appeared for the evening meal in mess later that day. With everyone but those assigned to specific jobs required to attend physical training, Arden's class had included everyone but four of the crewmembers, those being a gunner, a technician, a sensor/comms operator and Mercer, who had kept watch on the bridge. In all, 28 people had attended the training session, the first half of which had been dedicated to pure and simple physical fitness, while the second half had featured knife-combat under the auspices of one of the Alliance Special Forces soldiers.
The servant droid providing the meals certainly looked happy as he was experiencing the programmed-in joy of people enjoying his cooking despite the rather basic programming on matters pertaining to the actual preparation of food.
Harry too was rather sore as he sat down between Corsek and Javoc, to the never-ending amusement of Arden who took her place opposite him, together with Mercer.
"I would have thought you would be in better shape, Boss," she commented, eyeing him with delighted twinkles in her eyes. "You've been living in the wilds of Dathomir for a year."
Making his unhappiness known with a snort, Harry grabbed a fork and began eating his extremely average but definitely filling serving of… well, he had no idea what exactly it was.
"It's been more than a month since we left Dathomir," he responded after a few mouthfuls had at least calmed down his empty stomach. "And I had magic; tends to make things a little easier. You should have seen how out of shape some of the older people are where I come from."
"I suppose I get the joy of whipping you into shape," the witch allowed. "You've put me through quite the ordeal with all that magic training, too, after all. But you," she then turned to Mercer, "you're a military man; you should know better than to let yourself go like that."
Now it was on Mercer to snort and look offended. "I was an officer on a starship, then on a huge Battle Station," he exclaimed. "Sure, I got my steps in, but it's not like I was doing a lot of combat training."
"Oh, that's so going to change."
OOOOOOOO
Over the following days, the entirety of the crew regularly chafed under the rigorous training methods of Arden 'Sarge' Tla; still, no one was pounded more rigorously than Captain Potter himself, which gave most of the personnel a certain appreciation for how lucky they were. That was, of course, excepting the special forces, who simply elected to join most of Harry's lessons.
What time was not spent training under Arden, was mostly training Arden, whose skills in at least the basic requirements of a mage as Harry's home had practised them were growing in leaps and bounds. Additionally, he would spend at least an hour a day under the skilled tutelage of one of the veteran soldiers in the shooting range, increasing his skills with handguns and rifles.
With all that was going on, it honestly came as a surprise to Harry when, barely a few days after they had left the secret Rebel Base, the Lightbringer left hyperspace for a last time in the Corellian system.
Here, they were only one small fish among many, even if they were a more highly-armed fish, and while the Morningstar sped off to begin its investigations into the source of the pirate attacks, the Lightbringer was in a situation so utterly mundane, its captain had hardly been expecting to ever experience it again.
They were stuck in traffic.
Despite the somewhat lower demand for landing permits than was experienced by ecumenopoleis such as Coruscant or Christophsis, the number of people wanting to land on the surface, and especially in the capital Coronet City was still staggering, relegating the Lightbringer to a holding pattern for almost an hour, until they were finally allowed to set down in the city's spaceport (for an exorbitant fee, of course).
A small 'token of their appreciation' to a dockworker later, they had been supplied with names and addresses for local dealerships carrying the equipment that they were out to buy; specifically, a few speeder bikes (military-grade, obviously), two hover-vans and some probe droids.
As it turned out, the addresses for the establishments supposedly carrying what they needed were all in what the worker had called the Blue Sector. Seeing the district now, Harry had no trouble imagining why they had been sent here, given the illegality of at least some of the wares they were hoping to acquire. And with all four of them (Corsek had opted to stay behind on the ship with most of the crew) visibly armed and obviously proficient in using that armament, they were not accosted. Whether the same could be said about the surprising number of tourists and other off-worlders shuffling through the streets was still very much up to debate, though.
Their first port of call was a dealer of used speeders, both the legal as well as the less-than-legal kind. It was the less-than-legal, maybe grey-area, stock they were interested in. Therefore, Harry waited around in the dingy establishment, pretending to look at some of the more mundane articles on sale. Pretending, that is, until he found one thing, he did not have to pretend to be interested in.
"Mercer," he called the Imperial deserter over, whose face had once again been lightly transfigured to hide his identity. "Look at this one."
Harry pointed clandestinely at the landspeeder he had found; it was a sleek-looking craft despite its considerable length, rather flat and aerodynamic, yet encased in what was quite obviously some serious armour.
"Ahh, a man with taste," the sibilant voice of the shop owner reached Harry's ears as she stepped around the speedervan he had been looking at. "Let me see… guns, which you obviously know how to use, same with those knifes. Criminals?"
A smile spread on the black-haired woman's face. "Maybe, but not the malicious kind. Rebels? Perhaps," she observed. "Not that it would stop me from selling to you. Every Corellian worth his salt is something of a rebel, is he not? I think I'll settle on bounty hunters, even though you seem a bit more… disciplined and civilised than many of your colleagues that are more… rough around the edges."
"We would like to buy a speedervan, maybe two, for our missions," Harry confirmed. "Captain Vincent Dash, by the way."
"Well, Vincent Dash, you indeed have a good eye, then," the proprietor continued her sales-pitch. "The Aratech Repulsor Company Arrow-23. Eight metres long, 400 km/h maximum speed, ground clearance 4 metres."
She proceeded to open one of the speeder's doors. "Probably most interesting for you, would be this," she knocked onto the thick plating of the door. "Military-grade armour plating. They designed it for big game hunting, but it does have its other uses."
"Could I take a look at the engines?" Mercer inquired, eyeing the vehicle critically.
"Naturally," the woman replied. "Can't expect to sell informed customers a piece of merchandise they haven't inspected."
While his second-in-command was going to town on the Arrow's engines, Harry regained the saleswoman's attention.
"If you have two of those, and my colleague says they're both fine, we'd be very interested," he told the widely grinning proprietor. "Also, we're in need of some smaller vehicles of equal quality… maybe military-grade…"
"And why would you believe that I carry items of such illicit nature?" she inquired innocently, although Harry could easily tell she did not even believe in her own lies.
In keeping with the hilarity of her feigned denials, he simply pointed toward the outside of the shop where someone was, with only very moderate amounts of subterfuge, selling small plastic bags from inside a coat.
"Oh, a smart one, too," the shopkeeper purred. "So, probably already taken."
Harry snorted. "Yeah, I suppose I am."
"Too bad," the proprietor commented. "Follow me."
She led him into an equally dingy back area, where yet another gathering of vehicles was parked, although they were spaced more closely and less on display. While many of the models seemed to be the same as the ones in the front, merely duplicates that did not need to be presented twice, there was also a considerable presence of speeders Harry had not seen before. Of the latter group, the woman led Harry to a row of speeder bikes, mainly consisting of two distinct models.
"Military-grade speeder bikes," she declared proudly, signing down the line. "Republic BARCs, Imperial 74-Zs, your pick. Although those 74-Zs are really only for you when you have manpower to spare, they're basically an engine and two handlebars."
"I assume the BARCs are also more expensive?" Harry inquired, raising an eyebrow.
"They're newer and better… so, obviously," the saleswoman replied. "How many do you need, anyway?"
He thought about that for a while; the LAAT/i had space for four of them, and it was probably not worth the hassle of storing any more of them. Using more of them would require landing the Lightbringer, and if they already had the ship on the ground, they might as well use the speedervans.
"We'll need four," the bounty hunter replied. "Checked over by my associate, just like with the two vans."
"30000 credits," the shopkeeper offered.
"10000," Harry rebutted.
"You want to make me destitute?" she objected. "25000 credits."
"20000," he stated with an air of finality. "And you help us in finding out targets by introducing us to your CorSec contact. We're on the hunt for that gang of pirates that has been harassing freighter pilots, so us taking them out can only be good for business."
"What contact…"
Without even waiting for an answer, Harry pointed at the group of vehicles that were quite obviously mustered out of police service.
"Never mind," she admitted. "Deal."
OOOOOOOO
Harry and Arden were sitting in a dingy cantina on Coronet's blue sector that evening, waiting for the shopkeeper's contact in CorSec, the Corellian Security Forces. Basically, a police force under corporate leadership. Very efficient, if they wanted to be, but mostly concentrated on Corellia itself and beholden to corporate interests.
"You the bounty hunter Ridrissa was talking about?" they were suddenly approached by an aged woman in an off-white tunic with green trimming; the uniform of the CorSec officers.
"If Ridrissa has a used speeder lot in the Blue Sector, then probably," the young wizard replied. "You're her 'unfortunately idealistic friend' in CorSec?"
The woman joined them in their booth, settling down onto the booth next to Arden. "Sounds like her, alright," she admitted. "Not that she's completely wrong. Name's Relgi, intelligence analyst with CorSec. I hear you're going after those pirates?"
Harry nodded. "Good," Relgi the intelligence analyst commented. "Empire's doing nothing, CorSec isn't exactly equipped to handle threats in space. I'll give you everything you need, if just for the pleasure of knowing these people are off the space-lanes."
Elated as he was, the captain could not find it in himself to simply accept something this nice at face value. "What's your angle?"
"Ridrissa asked me to help, and it's not even something I'd be averse to doing, anyway," Relgi responded with a shrug. "A friend asked me for a favour because her business is suffering from these attacks. Learn how to barter favours, you'll need it."
Nothing more was said by the analyst before she vanished into the night once again, leaving behind a small data plaque lying on the table where she had sat.