Harry Potter and the Dark Lord of the Sith

Chapter 19.

Harry had trained hard for Quidditch at Hogwarts, and had to keep himself fit in the Alliance military. But this was more tiring than anything he has ever been through. Master Yoda made him and Luke run through the jungle for what seemed like hundreds of miles. Halfway through, Yoda ordered Luke to take off the basket with him and give it to Harry. Now, the Jedi master rode on Harry's back and instructed them.

"Feel the Force, you must. Call on it. Help you it will," he said.

Harry breathed heavily. "Tired, are you?" Yoda snickered. "For use the Force, you did not. An ally of it make you must."

They arrived back at Yoda's hut. Harry lowered the Jedi Master and stretched himself.

"Take this," Yoda told him and handed him a lightsaber. It was a little longer than Luke's and had a handle of polished wood and silvery metal. Harry looked in question at his teacher.

Yoda released a silver ball that hovered in the air between him and Luke.

Harry ignited his lightsaber, revealing a bright yellow blade. Luke did the same, extending the shining column of blue light forward.

The two students stood ready. The ball fired the first laser bolt at Luke. He deflected it... right into Harry. He felt a wince of pain where the bolt hit.

"Harry, I'm sorry!" Luke cried. "Are you okay?"

The pain had already passed. Harry just felt humiliated. "Yeah."

"Again," Yoda instructed.

This time the bolt sped towards Harry. He swung his saber, but it was too late. The laser beam went past him.

Frustrated, Harry got back into a ready stance. Luke deflected the next two bolts, and Harry felt a ting of jealousy. So when the ball fired at him again, Harry was ready. He moved his blade... and missed. The bolt grazed his leg, giving him another painful shock.

Now, Harry was mad. He raised his lightsaber, determined to succeed this time.

"Relying on your eyes you are," Yoda said. "Other senses you have. Use them. Blind Jedi I knew... and deaf ones, too. But Jedi they were."

Harry nodded. The next bolt was fired almost straight down. Harry and Luke both swung for it, but instead of intercepting the bolt, their lightsabers clashed. Harry and Luke stepped back.

"No, no," Yoda declared. "Do this will not. Competing you are. Work together you must." The Jedi master took the remote and strolled off. Harry and Luke shut off their blades.

"Sorry about that," Luke said.

"It's okay. I can't even hit the bolt, much less control where it bounces."

"I've just had more practice with this before. You'll do fine. Come on. I could eat a whole bantha by myself."

As they were eating, Harry asked the question that had bothered him for a long time. "Master Yoda, what is the connection between the... magic I know and what you're trying to teach us?"

"A connection there is, you think? Why, hmm?" The tips of Yoda's ears curled--the alien's equivalent of raising eyebrows.

"Well... not everyone can use the Force, right?"

"Wrong. From all of us, the Force flows. Not everyone a Jedi can become, true. But in all of us, the Force is. All life creates it... judges it not... Think not you must that superior you are..."

"I don't," Harry defended himself. "I just remembered that when we first arrived here, people from this world tried to do some of our magic. Luke and Princess Leia could... but not Han Solo. And I was thinking if there's a connection."

Luke jumped in. "But that'd mean Leia can be..."

"Can she? Do you know?" Harry asked.

Yoda closed his eyes and paused before answering.

"Ability she does have. But her own decisions will she make. Tell her this, you should not... yet. Distract her it will."

"But..."

"Little difference now will it make. Train three at once, I cannot."

Harry nodded. "So is there a connection?" he pressed.

"Tell you that, I will not. Learn for yourself, you should." Yoda left it at that.

Harry went back to his meal. The Jedi master could certainly be confusing. He couldn't help but smile a little when he thought about Yoda meeting Professor Dumbledore. He'd love to sit in on that conversation, though he doubted he'd understand any of it.

XXXXXXXX

Hermione was tired after she finished the work on her fighter, and headed straight for her quarters. But she was in for a surprise. There was another person there.

"Major Ors!" she exclaimed.

"Please. Jan," the other woman said.

"What're you doing here?"

"I've been assigned to these quarters. I knew I'd be sharing quarters, but I didn't know with whom."

"Oh. Well, it'll only be for one night."

Jan changed the subject. "What's it like being the only female in the squadron?"

"Huh? Well..."

"Any problems?"

"Not really. Sometimes, new members are skeptical of my abilities. That lasts till the first mission, no longer. And there had been other women in the unit at times. Why are you so concerned about it?"

"When I first joined the Alliance, I wanted to be a pilot. They denied me entrance, saying I wasn't good enough. I thought it was because I was a woman. A number of the Rebels, although they hate the Empire over Alderaan, or another atrocity, are former Imperial officers. These attitudes have been cultivated--they aren't going to be gone overnight."

"You no longer think that's why you were denied?"

"No. I improved my piloting, tried again, and was granted admission. By then, however, I was happy working in Intelligence, so I passed. But I thought Rogue Squadron, as an elite unit, might have been different in that regard."

Hermione remembered something. "Did you ever meet Ron Weasley?"

"I worked with him on one mission. He claimed to be a wizard... I had no choice but to believe him after what he did with that stick."

"A wand," Hermione corrected. "I can use it too." She showed her. "I actually don't belong in this world. Some sort of dimensional portal brought me and two of my friends in here. I mean, where I come from, we haven't been farther away from our homeworld than its moon."

"If you weren't born in this galaxy, that doesn't mean you don't belong. Where you belong is something you can only decide for yourself. I'd love to hear your story, but you need sleep before tomorrow's mission. You won't rest well by sleeping in your fighter."

"Don't I know it. Good night, Jan."

"Good night," Jan Ors shut out the lights. Maybe I should have asked her about Wedge, Hermione thought. Oh, well. Some other time. Then she fell asleep.

XXX

The next morning, the squadron assembled at the ship's hangar. "All right, people," Wedge said. "You know the drill. We come down, blow up a few squints, fire torpedoes at buildings, and take some pictures. In an out of hyperspace in ten minutes, fifteen max. We'll be gone before they could turn on their comm systems and call for help. Clear and simple. Understand?"

A chorus of affirmative replies echoed in the chamber. Jan stood up. "Your astromech droids have been programmed with rendezvous coordinates. I'll be waiting for you with the commando team there. May the Force be with you."

As Hermione got ready to take off, a slight worry passed over her. She ignored it; that was routine. Ready, Eichee?" she asked her astromech. The droid was officially designated R2-H8, but Hermione called it H.E., or house-elf. That's who these droids reminded her of, their hard work so often left unappreciated. During her time in this world, restraining bolts came close to the top of the list of things she hated.

"Hermione? Are you asleep?" Wedge's voice rang from her helmet headphones.

"Oh. Sorry. Rogue Eight, standing by," she said.

"All right," Wedge announced. "Next stop, Suran Minor."

One by one, the five X-wings disappeared into hyperspace. Hermione was the last to leave. Clear and simple, Wedge said. Yeah. That's the plan. When have things ever gone according to plan?