The dark side of the moon hung silent and cold, its barren surface untouched by light, untouched by mercy. It was a place where no life dared linger—where shadows stretched endlessly across jagged craters and broken rock.
A perfect place for war.
Sebul guided their ship through the drifting debris field with practiced ease, his fingers dancing across the controls as if the vessel were an extension of himself. Fragments of old wreckage—burnt hull plating, shattered satellites, the skeletal remains of long-dead ships—floated lazily in the void, forming a natural veil around the hidden rebel fleet.
The moon loomed ahead, vast and pitted, its surface offering both protection and peril. One wrong move, one miscalculation, and even the most skilled pilot could end up as just another piece of debris in the endless graveyard.
"Coordinates match," Sebul muttered, his voice low but steady. He adjusted the trajectory slightly, angling the ship through a narrow gap between two drifting wrecks. "They're here."
The ship drifted forward, slipping past the invisible boundary where shadow swallowed light—
And then they saw them.
An entire formation.
Ships of all shapes and sizes hovered in disciplined silence, their engines running low, signatures masked by the debris field. Some were small and sleek, unmistakably fighter carriers with docking racks full of waiting interceptors. Others were larger, bulkier—clearly modified freighters, stripped of their original purpose and reforged into instruments of war.
And at the center—
A command cruiser.
It dominated the formation, its reinforced hull scarred by previous battles, its presence commanding absolute authority over everything around it.
Quinlan let out a low whistle, leaning slightly forward as he took in the sight.
"Well…" he drawled, a hint of impressed amusement in his tone, "looks like Berch didn't exaggerate."
Harry stepped forward just enough to get a clearer view, his gaze sharp and calculating as it moved from one ship to another, measuring distances, formations, weaknesses.
"No," he said quietly. "He didn't."
Their ship approached slowly, deliberately.
Weapons remained cold.
No sudden movements.
Just a quiet acknowledgment of presence.
For a moment, nothing happened.
Then—
A signal flashed across the console.
Docking clearance.
Sebul's lips curled into a smirk.
"Guess we're invited."
The ship eased forward, guided by automated vectors, until it settled smoothly beside one of the larger rebel vessels. Metal groaned softly as docking clamps locked into place.
A brief silence filled the interior.
Then the ramp began to lower.
The moment it touched the deck—
Every eye turned.
Rebel soldiers stood frozen mid-step. Pilots paused in their conversations. Mechanics lifted their heads from half-disassembled engines.
All of them staring.
Because what they saw—
Didn't match what they had expected.
Four people.
No heavy weapons.
Just—
Four figures stepping down from a lone ship.
A murmur spread like wildfire through the hangar.
"That's it?"
"Is this some kind of joke?"
Quinlan stretched casually as he stepped onto the deck, completely unbothered by the scrutiny.
"Ah…" he said with a lazy grin, glancing around at the doubtful faces. "I missed this kind of welcome."
Obi-Wan ignored the murmurs entirely, his posture calm, composed, as if the whispers held no weight.
Harry said nothing.
Sebul simply grinned, his expression radiating a quiet, reckless confidence.
A flicker of realization.
Eyes dropped to their belts.
To the hilts resting there.
Lightsabers.
The murmurs faltered.
"…Wait."
"Those are—"
"Jedi?"
Silence spread like a ripple through still water, swallowing the doubt, replacing it with something else entirely.
Recognition.
Respect.
A voice cut through the quiet.
"Stand aside."
The crowd parted almost instantly, forming a path without question.
Berch Teller stepped forward.
He moved with the confidence of someone used to command, his sharp gaze sweeping over the four newcomers before settling on one man.
"…Kenobi."
Obi-Wan inclined his head slightly, calm as ever.
"Berch."
Berch exhaled slowly, as though releasing a tension he hadn't realized he carried.
"…I was hoping it was true."
His gaze shifted.
"…and Quinlan Vos."
Quinlan gave a lazy salute, flashing a crooked grin.
"Still alive."
A faint smile tugged at Berch's lips.
"That makes two miracles already."
Then his eyes moved again.
They landed on Harry.
There was no recognition.
A silent weighing of presence, posture, and something deeper that couldn't quite be named.
Then Berch moved on.
Inside the command ship, the atmosphere was different.
The uncertainty from before had vanished, replaced by a focused tension that hummed through the air like a live current. Respect had settled into the room—not because of numbers, but because of who had arrived.
A large holographic table flickered to life at the center of the chamber, casting blue light across the gathered faces. Space unfolded above it—routes, vectors, formations—each detail shifting in real time.
Berch stood at the head.
"This is the convoy."
The projection shifted.
A massive Imperial vessel appeared, its silhouette unmistakable—heavy armor plating, reinforced hull, and enough firepower to devastate anything that came within range.
Around it—
Escort ships.
Fighters.
Support craft.
Layers of protection.
"It passes this sector in…" Berch glanced at the data streaming beside the projection, "…twenty-three minutes."
One of the rebel captains leaned forward, studying the formation.
"Heavy escort."
Another spoke from the opposite side of the table.
"They will be expecting trouble."
Berch nodded once.
"They always are."
He turned, his gaze sweeping across everyone in the room.
"Our objective is simple."
His finger pointed directly at the central ship.
"That."
"Destroy it."
One captain spoke, voice steady but edged with tension.
"And the escorts?"
Berch didn't hesitate.
"We hold them off."
Another voice, quieter this time—
"And casualties?"
Berch's expression hardened, the faint trace of his earlier smile gone.
"Will be High."
Because this was war.
Quinlan leaned slightly toward Obi-Wan, his tone low and dry.
"Cheerful bunch."
Obi-Wan's response was just as quiet.
"They know what they're doing."
Berch continued, his voice cutting through the room with renewed intensity.
"That ship is carrying components we cannot allow to reach their destination."
After the briefing, the tension shifted again.
The captains approached in small groups, one after another.
Respectful.
They greeted Obi-Wan with quiet familiarity, spoke with Quinlan in tones that mixed relief and curiosity, and even exchanged nods with Sebul.
But Harry—
Was mostly ignored.
And Harry was perfectly fine with that.
He stood slightly apart, his gaze fixed on the fleet outside through the viewport.
Quinlan noticed and drifted closer, folding his arms.
"You're quiet."
Harry didn't look at him.
"I'm planning."
Obi-Wan joined them, his expression thoughtful.
"What kind of planning?"
Harry's eyes remained on the distant formation of ships.
"We destroy the main vessel."
"That's the objective."
Sebul leaned back against the wall, grinning.
"Simple enough."
Harry shook his head slightly.
"We take something."
Quinlan raised an eyebrow, interest sharpening in his gaze.
"…Take?"
Harry nodded once.
"Escort ships."
Obi-Wan frowned faintly.
"That's not the mission."
Harry met his gaze evenly, his voice calm but firm.
"It should be."
Harry continued.
"We can't keep operating with one ship."
He gestured toward the fleet beyond the viewport.
"They have resources."
"We don't."
Sebul's grin widened, clearly enjoying where this was going.
"Now that…" he said, pushing off the wall, "…I like."
Quinlan chuckled softly.
"You're thinking like a pirate."
Harry's expression didn't change.
"I don't have the credits and clearance to buy my own ships."
Obi-Wan remained silent for a moment, weighing the idea.
Then he sighed quietly.
"…If the opportunity presents itself."
Harry nodded once.
"That's enough."
An alarm shattered the calm.
A voice rang out across the ship—
"Convoy incoming!"
Everything changed instantly.
Pilots sprinted toward their ships. Mechanics abandoned their workstations. Engines roared to life across the fleet, their vibrations echoing through the hull.
Berch's voice cut through every channel, clear and commanding.
"All units—positions!"
"Remember your targets!"
"Hit hard!"
"Hit fast!"
The fleet moved.
One by one, ships lifted from the moon's shadow, slipping into formation like predators emerging from darkness.
Inside their ship, Sebul dropped into the pilot's seat, his hands already moving.
"Here we go."
Quinlan ignited his lightsaber for a brief moment—the blue blade humming to life—before deactivating it again with a satisfied smirk.
"Missed this."
Obi-Wan stood steady, his focus absolute, every movement controlled, every breath measured.
Harry stepped forward, a faint smile forming at the edge of his lips.
"Let's take as many as possible."
The void erupted into chaos.
One moment—there had been silence, a heavy stillness stretching across the stars.
Berch Teller's voice cut through every frequency, sharp and commanding.
"Engage!"
And the stars themselves seemed to ignite.
From the shadow of the moon, the rebel fleet came alive. Nearly fifty fighters burst forward in unison, engines flaring bright as they surged into the open void like a storm finally unleashed. Their formation shattered into attack patterns within seconds, each pilot moving with practiced instinct as they accelerated toward the Imperial convoy.
Across the battlefield—
The Empire responded without hesitation.
Escort ships shifted formation, their hulls angling with mechanical precision as hangar bays opened. Sleek Imperial fighters poured out in disciplined waves, forming perfect lines, a mirror reflection of the incoming rebels.
And then—
The first shots were fired.
Blazing streaks of plasma tore through the darkness.
Red.
Green.
They crisscrossed the void in lethal patterns, illuminating the battlefield in violent flashes of light. Explosions erupted in rapid succession as fighters collided, spiraled out of control, or vanished entirely into expanding clouds of debris.
"Break formation!"
"Watch your six!"
"Incoming—!"
The calm of space was gone.
In its place—
A storm.
Inside the chaos, Sebul laughed—a wild, exhilarated sound that cut through the tension like a blade.
"Now THIS is flying!"
His stolen TIE fighter twisted sharply, slipping between two converging streams of plasma fire with impossible precision. The craft rolled sideways, then dipped, engines screaming as he dove beneath an incoming fighter before pulling up sharply.
He squeezed the trigger.
Twin blasts of green energy struck true.
The Imperial fighter behind him exploded in a burst of fire and metal.
"Still got it!"
Nearby, Obi-Wan's voice came through the comms, calm and measured even amidst the chaos.
"Focus, Sebul."
His own TIE fighter moved like a whisper through the battlefield.
No wasted motion.
Each adjustment was subtle, precise—his ship weaving through incoming fire with almost effortless grace. When he fired, it was deliberate.
His shots struck engines, wings—disabling enemy fighters rather than destroying them whenever possible.
Their main ship drifted through the battlefield like a ghost.
Invisible.
Wrapped in layers of carefully woven magic, it slipped between sensors and scanners as if it did not exist at all.
From its hidden position—
It fired.
Plasma blasts surged from its concealed cannons, each one enhanced by Harry's magic—compressed, intensified, far more destructive than anything the Imperials expected.
One escort ship took a direct hit.
Its shields flickered—
Then collapsed instantly.
"What the—?!"
Before the crew could react—
A second blast struck.
The ship split apart, its hull rupturing as fire and debris burst outward into the void.
Inside the invisible vessel, warning signals flared.
"Shields taking hits!" the ship's automated system warned, its tone sharp and insistent.
"Yeah, yeah, I see it," Quinlan muttered distractedly.
Stray shots were finding them.
The magic held.
And in the center of it all—
Harry stood.
Unmoving.
Watching the battlefield unfold through the viewport.
He didn't rush.
His hand rose slowly, fingers curling slightly as magic gathered.
A faint shimmer appeared around his face—not the visible, protective bubble he had used before, but something far more refined.
A thin layer of enchanted air sealed around his nose and mouth.
He inhaled once.
Then gave a small, satisfied nod.
"Time to move."
And then—
He vanished.
One moment he stood within the ship—
The next—
He existed inside an Imperial escort vessel.
Alarms screamed the moment he appeared.
"Unauthorized—!"
Harry's hand moved.
A deep crimson blade erupted to life with a sharp hiss.
For a fraction of a second—
The troopers froze.
Their minds trying to make sense of what they saw.
Red blade.
One of ours?
That hesitation—
Cost them everything.
Harry moved.
Fast.
Lethal.
Bolts of red energy streaked toward him in rapid succession.
Harry didn't slow.
His blade moved in smooth, controlled arcs, deflecting every shot with effortless precision. The reflected bolts struck their targets with brutal accuracy.
One trooper fell.
Then another.
Then another.
Within seconds—
The corridor was silent.
Bodies littered the floor.
Smoke hung in the air.
Droids were dismantled before they could process him as a threat. Troopers fell before they could complete a firing sequence. Officers didn't even have time to shout orders.
At the command deck—
The last remaining crew turned as he entered, shock flashing across their faces.
"What are you—"
Harry's blade moved.
A single flash of crimson.
The question died with him.
He deactivated his lightsaber, the crimson glow vanishing instantly.
Then he stepped toward the controls.
The interface was unfamiliar—but not incomprehensible.
His fingers moved across the panels, quickly navigating through systems, pulling information, understanding structure.
Coordinates.
Navigation.
Control overrides.
He input a destination.
Bogano.
Then—
Autopilot engaged.
The ship responded immediately, its systems aligning with the new course.
Harry raised his hand again.
Magic flowed outward, weaving through the ship's structure like an unseen current.
The hull shimmered—
Then vanished.
A powerful invisibility spell wrapped around the entire vessel, bending light, masking energy signatures, erasing its presence from every known form of detection.
Harry disappeared once more.
Back inside their ship—
He reappeared as if he had never left.
Quinlan's voice crackled, amusement clear even in the middle of battle.
"Tell me that wasn't you."
Harry's gaze returned to the battlefield, watching as fighters clashed and ships burned in the distance.
"I secured us a ship."
There was a brief pause.
Then—
Quinlan chuckled.
"…I like this plan more and more."
Far from the chaos of battle—
The stolen Imperial escort ship moved silently through space.
Heading straight toward Bogano.
Author's Note:
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