Battle Lines

Chapter 17: Occupation

20 May 03: Somewhere in the Outer Hebrides

0530h

Nat sat down on the floor, leaning her back against the wall of their small concrete bunker. It was a far cry from the briefing room that had been in Hogwarts, or the Phoenix Squadron ready room, but it sure beat the hell out of being captured. After their mad dash from the castle Nat and the rest of them had meant to meet up with the rest of the force; however it had turned out that none of those aboard their Assault Barge had known where the rendezvous points had been, that had been the private information of the extraction birds. On top of that the Barge had lacked any form of radio communications, it had been decided that flying a large enemy warship over an already jumpy army would not have been the best plan for survival. So they had made their way to here, off the coast of England, to one of these bunkers. From what the marines had told her Command had set up these in the hope that, should England be taken, any resistance movement formed would be able to re-supply and get a head start. Each bunker had food, supplies and, most importantly, weapons and ammunition. It had also turned out that, in the rush to board the transport, Ron had caught a round in the leg. Hence they had been forced to lie up for a few days while the wound healed, large uses of magic for healing having been deemed a stupid idea.

Hermione was talking, 'Considering the speed at which Voldemort's forces got to Hogwarts, and factoring in that most of our military effort was also concentrated at Hogwarts when it was taken, it is probably quite safe to assume that most of England has fallen to the enemy. Now, we have some weapons and the Barge. Question is, where do we go from here?'

'We're going to finish this.'

Everyone looked at where Harry was sitting; he had barely spoken since the escape from Hogwarts.

'Say again.'

'We, or more precisely I, am going to finish this, this war. Rheinburg was right, the Union is too weak to stand much longer; Voldemort has to be destroyed.'

'But...'

'God dammit Hermione!' Harry was on his feet now. 'The prophecy said that I had to kill Voldemort, or him kill me. Since this war started all I've done in run around playing solider, putting off the inevitable. Like it or not I have to face Voldemort, one on one. Enough good people have died for this war. It is going to end, and I'm the only one who can do that.'

Hermione tried a different tack. 'Well that's all very well and heroic, but we don't know where Voldemort is...'

'Yes we do, he's at Durmstrang.'

'And where precisely in that?' retorted Hermione. 'We don't know where it is, the schools never let each other know where they were.'

'Actually,' piped up Ron, 'The Ministry should know, international relations department. Dad said they knew all that sort of stuff...'

'RON! SHUT UP!'

Nat watched the proceedings quietly, letting the three long time friends sort each other out. After almost ten minutes of fighting she decided it was time to step in.

'If you lot don't put a sock in it you're going to bring every Death Eater within fifty miles down on top of us.'

'Hey now there's an idea,' said Ron, 'Maybe we can capture one and get him to tell us where He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is...'

'I was being sarcastic dipshit.'

'Oh.'

* * *

21 May 03: Mount's Bay, Southern England.

0830h

Cho Chang scrambled up the boarding gantry of the HMAS Jervis Bay, broom in one hand, flight gear in the other, pushing her squadron along in front of her. Artillery shells slammed down into the small port, the last port of free England.

The defence of Britain had been a disaster. Voldemort's forces had literally bulldozed the Union's defensive lines. Command had never believed that the enemy would attack so soon and without full air superiority of the skies; hence most of the ground forces had been fighting the Africa campaign when Hogwarts had been attacked. Now they were paying for that assumption. Jervis Bay's engines roared as the big wave piercer pulled out from the dock. The last ship out, leaving behind it the crushed island that had once been Great Britain. Cho slumped down onto the deck of the ship and pulled out the PDA that held the Squadron's new orders. She sat, reading off the tiny screen as the crunch of shells faded into the distance. They were to report to Northern Africa, to aid the defence there. With Hogwarts fallen, the fortress city of Tobruk was the Union's last stronghold in this part of the world. It would be the Union's last stand.

* * *

25 May 03: Occupied London

0110h

Natalie Boone lay on the roof of a block of flats that overlooked the visitors' entrance to the old Ministry of Magic building, surveying it through a high powered night scope.

We'll this was a fucking brilliant idea then wasn't it.

Harry had finally won out during the argument. However, that still left the problem of finding out where Durmstrang actually was, which meant someone had to get said location from the Ministry. All the other four of the group were to well known as leaders in the Union and would have been to easily recognized for the sort of covert insertion needed; which meant the job had fallen, by default, to Nat.

Yeah, as if someone creeping around in a black body glove isn't just slightly suspect anyway.

Which left her lying on top of a building, face blacked out with greasepaint, in the middle of an occupied city, trying to get into a high priority installation. At least she had been able to get fitted out properly from the weapons store in the bunker. In place of her usual combat fatigues she had chosen a black neoprene body glove. Over that had gone black Special Forces chest webbing and black jungle boots; black armored gloves covered her hands, though she had retained her Code 4 flack glasses. She had had to leave the maghook behind, being to bulky for her chosen form of insertion into the MoM. What really grated though was the loss of her P-90. The ammo store simply had not been stocked with 5.7mm ammunition. That left her with enough to keep her Five-seveN loaded, but not its accompanying SMG.

Dialing down the magnification on the scope, Nat re-attached it to her Colt M4 carbine, the shorter brother of the ubiquitous M16 assault rifle. Simple and tough it had been deemed perfect for resistance fighters. She crawled away from the edge of the roof, only standing up when she was sure that she was well out of sight. A quick trip down the fire escape ladder had her back on street level. Quietly Nat slipped round the corner of the building, then down the side, bringing herself to the road that the entrance was on. Still two blocks down from the telephone booth that marked the entrance, Nat checked that the two sentries guarding the entrance were not looking toward her, and sprinted across the road. Both sentries didn't appear to be paying much attention to what was happening around them, it was the last mistake they would make. Nat crept up behind the first, bowie knife out. He never even knew what hit him, the knife slashed across his throat, and he sunk to the ground, gurgling softly. The second spun around, Nat's knife sunk into his gut; he to hit the deck, still alive, just. Nat turned away, he would be dead soon.

'S-stop.'

Nat turned around; the wounded Death Eater had spoken.

'S-stop.' he said again, rasping for breath. 'You d-don't want to go down there.'

'Why not.'

'Look, we weren't p-put her to stop people going in, we're here to stop...' with a final gurgle the man died.

Well that was, worrying.

Nat turned back to the telephone booth. Stepping inside she brought her microphone right up close to her mouth.

'Ok Hermione, how do I work this thing?'

The lieutenant's voice came back, filtered through Nat's earpiece. 'Ok, look down...'

Nat did so, attached to the side of her head was a small fiber-optic camera that was beaming what she saw back to Hermione a few blocks away.

'...looks the same as when I was last there. Dial six-two-four-four-two, you'll get instructions from there, let me know if you need anything else.'

Nat dialed.

'Welcome to the Ministry of Magic, please state your name and your purpose for being here.' The voice seemed to come out of the air.

'Samantha Rheinburg, seeing a friend.'

There was a rattle and an ID tag fell into the change slot, Nat pulled it out. On it was written:

Natalie Boone; Espionage and Data Extraction.

Fuck, the thing could read minds.

The telephone box lurched downward, sinking into the ground, Nat didn't waste time, from a pocket on her vest she pulled a long length of detcord. Working quickly she attached it to the roof of the elevator.

Phwoom.

The cord ignited, burning quickly through the metal of the telephone booth. Nat removed the bit of roof she had cut away, lowering it quickly to the floor. She hoisted herself up through the hole, standing on the roof of the car as it hurtled downwards. Gradually the booth began to slow. Nat crouched on the roof, M4 at the ready. The lift stopped, doors sliding open, a dull red light filled the car's interior. Nat swung down through the hole, hanging by her feet and swept her gun across the lobby area.

Nothing.

The lobby was deserted, the only light coming from fires burning along the walls.

Well this was, totally unexpected.

She crept out into the cavernous space, carbine up on her shoulder, red laser sight and tactical field light cutting into the gloom. What had been a fountain stood dry in the middle of the floor, Nat crept past it, making her way to the security checkpoint, then through into the rest of the building.

Hermione's voice broke through the comm. 'Ok, about fifty metres down you should see a set of stairs, head down them.'

Nat found the stairs, racing down them two at a time, bursting out through door at the bottom. In front of her were a massive set of windows, showing the nighttime cityscape of London.

'I guess it makes working underground easier. Where to now?'

'Follow the corridor to the end, there's another set of stairs.'

Nat looked left; there was a set of lift doors at that end.

'Why couldn't I just use the lift?'

'It's jammed on the floor above you.'

'Great.'

Two sets of stairs later Nat found herself outside the Foreign Affairs department.

'Hey, Hermione, how about while I'm looking for this stuff, you try and get the lifts working again? I don't feel like walking all the way back up.'

'I'm on it.'

Nat stepped into the room, light from her gun sweeping over the filing cabinets.

Right, now where to start.

She walked over to one marked, Institutions; Durmstrang was there, under "D". Nat pulled out the file. It was a mess.

Dammit, don't these wizards ever organize these things?

Nat pulled up a chair and began to read.

* * *

Four blocks away, in an abandoned unit Hermione Granger worked furiously, trying to get the lifts operational again. So far she had managed to get the fountain running and open two locked doors.

Great.

* * *

Finally Nat found what she was looking for. There was no map, just a Muggle style six figure grid reference, the only way to mark un-plottable areas. Nat pulled out the sheet of paper.

'Braniac, you there?'

'Go ahead.'

'I've got it, six figure grid coming your way.'

Nat read it out.

'Ok, got it,' replied Hermione, 'Hold tight, I'll have the lifts working in a second.'

Nat stuffed the paper away in a pocket and made her way toward the door. It had all been too easy. She reached for the door handle, but the wood swung back before she could open it. Standing there was a man in regulation ministry robes. He lunged for Nat, arms outstretched.

BANG! BANG!

Her two shots caught him in the head and he went down. There had been something wrong with him, something about the face. Nat stepped out into the corridor.

That was it, the eyes...

Turning toward her were more figures, Nat caught her breath; all the eyes had rolled back, showing only the whites. As one they turned toward Nat, arms outstretched, lurching forward.

'Braniac, are you seeing this?'

'Yeah, I'm seeing that.'

Nat slowly started to edge backwards down the corridor keeping the "zombies" in sight.

'Good, I thought I must have gone insane. Have you got those lifts working yet?'

'Not quite.'

Nat ran. She sprinted down the corridor as the sea of bodies surged along behind her, slamming through the door to the stairwell and pelting upwards to the first landing. Nat spun round, jamming her finger down on the trigger of her gun. The first row of zombies climbing the stairs fell backwards as their bodies were riddled with bullets, red explosions ripping through their chests and heads; but there were more behind. Nat's gun went dry. She ran again, heading up, swiping away the empty mag as she went and ramming a fresh into place. She burst through the next door. White eyes turned to her.

'Sorry, wrong floor.'

Nat disappeared back up the stairwell as the enemy swarmed up behind her.

'Ok, I got the lifts working.'

'About fucking time.'

Nat crashed out the next door, gun up. She jammed her finger down on the trigger, dropping the zombies just outside the door, the dashing for the lifts. Nat reached the doors, tapping frantically on the call button. The enemy was advancing up the hall, arms outstretched. Nat's carbine boomed, spitting lead toward her assailants.

Bing!

Nat stepped back into the lift, pressing the button marked lobby as she did so. The hoard was only a metre from the doors now. Slowly, painfully they began to close. Fingers grasped the edge of the doors. Nat kicked out with her boots. There was a scream for outside and the fingers withdrew. More hands started to appear. Nat kicked out again; there was a blur of motion and fingers clamped around her foot. A white eyed head appeared, laws clamping down around the toe of her boot.

'Get the fuck off'f me!'

Nat whipped her gun up. She jammed her finger down, emptying the rest of her mag into the zombie's head. Brains and blood spattered the inside of the lift. The other hands withdrew as their owners fell Nat's victim, ripping flesh from the body. With relief Nat watched the doors close.

What the fuck?

'Fucking bitch tried to take a chunk out of me! Braniac, you got any idea what the hell happened there?'

'Sorry, no clue. You're coming up to the lobby area. I'd be ready, there's a large collection of heat signatures up there.'

Nat sighed. 'Copy that.'

She wrenched the empty magazine clear of her weapon, then rammed a new one into place.

Bing!

* * *

25 May 03: Approach to Tobruk - North Africa

0140h GMT

Cho sat in the back of the RAF Hercules transport, roar of the engines filling her ears. Her flight gear had been replaced by khaki desert camouflage fatigues. A heavy metal flack jacket covered her chest and a Kevlar helmet took care of her head. Over her eyes were standard issue sand goggles. Her broom and flight gear now resided in the large armored cargo pallet that took up the rear end of the transport. Lying across her knees was a Heckler and Koch G-36 assault rifle. There was a grinding whine as the big transports flaps came down. The loadmaster was standing in the middle of the cargo bay, apparently unaware of the aircraft bucking around him.

'OK! Listen up and listen good!' shouted the loadie. 'When we hit the ground, get up and get out, the plane will not be stopping! When you're out the back, high tail it for the nearest trench and get the hell in! Understand!'

Affirmatives chorused back to him form the assembled pilots. Cho reached down tightening the straps on her flack jacket, then grasped her gun.

Whirrrr! Clunk! Ka-clunk!

The flaps dropped down to their maximum setting while the landing gear simultaneously locked into place. Wind whistled around her ears as the loading bay doors slowly ground open.

THUMP!

The C-130 slammed into the runway, heavy duty shock absorbers taking in most of the impact. There was a roar as the big six bladed props were slammed into reverse. The cargo pallet at the back was already rolling backwards as the rear doors came fully open. Cho was up and out of her seat. As the pallet fell out the back, the Squadron were close behind it. Cho hit the metal plates of the runway, sprinting away from the aircraft as bullets thudded into the ground around her. She found the nearest trench and threw herself into it just as more bullets whirred across her head. Unable to resist she poked her head back up over the trench side. The Herc was already around; there was a roar of engines as the pilot slammed the throttles forward again. Tracers erupted from further out in the desert, chasing after plane.

KABOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

The earth behind the big transport exploded as mortar shells ripped into it; their explosions erupting just behind the speeding aircraft. The Hercules crawled into the air, mortars still exploding underneath and behind it as it hammered away into the sky. Cho ducked back down into the trench, as marines scrambled out to retrieve the big cargo pallet. Someone tapped her on the shoulder. She turned round to see a marine, three weeks growth marking his chin.

'Squadron Leader Chang? I'm Sergeant Thorn.' said the man. 'The General wants to see you. Welcome to Tobruk ma'am.'

'Home sweet home. Lead on.'

* * *

25 May 03: Ministry of Magic Building - Occupied London

0141h

Nat stormed out of the lift like one of the riders of the Apocalypse. Gun mounted on her shoulder, red sight slicing through the dust and smoke in the lobby. Up the far end a desperate battle was in progress. Near the fountain, two people in black robes were desperately casting spells as zombies closed in around them. There was no way Nat was going to reach the visitor's entrance. She had to get to one of the fires, and fast. Those zombies around the edges had already spotted her and were peeling away from the main group. Nat backed toward a fireplace, gun up, firing bursts into the marauding mob. Her clip went dry, she slammed it away, grabbing another from her webbing, last one. She was almost at the fireplace, just a few more metres.

'Hey you!'

Nat's head jerked up, one of the Death Eaters had spotted her. The man suddenly moved, shoving his partner into the hoard of zombies, then scrambling over the fountain toward Nat. Something grabbed her leg; Nat lowered the carbine, blasting away at the zombie that had caught her. She looked around for the Death Eater; he was closing in, blasting magic outwards, cutting a swath through the hoard. Nat's carbine roared, dropping those who came near her, until the inevitable happened...

Click!

Out of ammo.

Shit.

Nat brought the gun around, wielding it like a club, smashing the head of a nearby zombie. The Death Eater was only a few metres away.

Get just a little closer you barstard.

Nat hammered another white eyed freak; it fell to the ground, trampled under the feet of its comrades. The Death Eater was almost within reaching distance. Nat belted another zombie, then dropped the M4 and ran. She grabbed the pot of floo powder, throwing the whole lot into the flames, then followed it in.

'Somewhere else!'

Yes, it was lame, she new it, but it appeared to work. There was the spinning whirling sensation, then she was out, tumbling out through the grate of what appeared to be a small café. Nat was up immediately, quickly she drew her Five-seveN and pointed it at the grate, seconds later a black robed figure came tumbling through, trailing flame and sparks. The Death Eater came to a crashing halt. He opened his eyes, lookin up at Nat, who looked right back, straight down the length of her gun.

'Hand over your wand.'

The man reached down, and pulled out his wand. He handed it over, body shaking uncontrollably. It was only then that Nat realized that the lower parts of his legs, from the middle of the thighs down were missing. Obviously the floo powder had stopped working while he was halfway through.

'Right,' said Nat, 'I want some answers, what the hell were those things?'

'I-I don't know,' stammered the Death Eater.

'What were they, someone obviously knew because you had to guards on the entrance.'

'I-I don't know.' repeated the man. 'Wh-when we invaded London we r-reached the ministry area and the commander o-ordered D-dementors into the b-building, giving them reign to a-administer the k-kiss to anyone found inside. E-eventually they came back out and four of our number were sent in. O-only one came b-back, he k-kept bab-babbling about zombies. So a larger f-force was sent in. Wh-when we lost contact with them...'

The man's eyes closed, and he let out a sigh. Nat knelt down and checked his pulse. Nothing.

Damn.

She walked out into the street, looking up at the sign above the café. The "Somewhere Else Coffee House."

Figures.

Now she just had to figure out how to leave. If she was lucky then there wouldn't be anyone tracking the Death Eater that had followed her. If she was unlucky...

'Halt! What are you doing out after curfew?'

Fuck.

Standing at the end of the street was a Death Eater, surrounded by a squad of shock troops. Nat threw herself into a side alley just as the first wave of fire roared down the street. It would take the shockies a few seconds to reach the end of the alley, Nat made use of every one of those seconds. Tracers whipped around her as she sprinted for the other end, the close walls of the buildings on either side serving to channel the fire into a deadly hailstorm. She spun around, firing back toward her pursuers. One of the troops fell, its comrades leaping over the fallen body, still in hot pursuit. Nat exploded out the end of the alley, finding herself in a wide high street. Just down the road was a large glass building, written on a large, sign outside were the words "High Street Performance Motors".

Perfect.

Nat ducked inside, she wouldn't have much time. The showroom floor was covered in European sports cars. Nat looked longingly at an Aston Martin DB-7.

No, not this time; it's just not quite me.

Instead she made her way to a dark green Lotus Exige. Ultra fast, ultra lightweight and ultra cool the Exige was the hot version of the Lotus Elise sports car. It came in two different versions, road and track, the difference; five brake horse power and a removable steering wheel. Nat slipped into the driver's seat of the low slung sports car.

Keys, keys, keys.

'Accio keys!'

The Lotus's keys flew from a rear office, landing in Nat's hand. She found the ignition.

BRUMMMMM!

The throaty induction roar of the engine filled the showroom. Nat shut the door, doing up the five point racing harness. There was a sound of shattering glass as the Death Eater, surrounded by his shock troop guard burst into the showroom. Nat didn't waste time, she reached out the window.

BLAM! BLAM! BLAM!

Her bullets, hit the glass wall, long fracture lines cut through the glass. Dropping the gun on the passenger seat beside her Nat jammed the car into first then planted the accelerator.

SCREEEEEEEE! CRASH!

The little Lotus exploded out onto the street in a shower of broken glass. It hit the road, sliding across the tarmac; there was a roar as Nat gunned the engine, flicking on the high powered driving lights as she did so. The car skidded out across the road, then the Yokohamas took hold and it roared off down the street, headlights blazing. More roars filled the night. Out of the showroom sped the Aston Martin, followed by a Ferrari F355 and two BMW Z4s, a shock troop behind the wheel of each one with another riding shotgun in the passenger seat. The chase was on.

Nat screamed down the street, enemies close behind; fire from their AK-74's slamming into the tarmac around her. Wrecked cars littered the street, reminders of the recent invasion. The agile little Lotus wove in between them easily, leaving the heavier super cars in its wake. Nat screamed through the next intersection, more fire pounded into the ground. Nat glanced back into her rear view mirror. The Ferrari and Beamers were close behind, the shockies firing over the tops of their cars' windscreens; further back ran the Aston, the Death Eater in the passenger seat, coordinating his troops. Nat returned her attention to the road. Up ahead the road was cut, a long barricade of burnt out tank hulls and other heavy vehicles covered the road.

SHIT!

Then she saw it, an airport baggage handler, one of the sort that could be raised to reach the luggage bays of aircraft. Nat hit the juice, speeding toward the barricade.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

Bullets ripped into the rear end of her car, Nat wrenched the wheel left.

THUMP!

The Exige hit the ramp at awesome speed, it screamed up the ramp, underside sliding along on the metal rollers, wheels hanging off either side then, whoosh, it flew off the end, trailing sparks, falling through the air until.

KABAM!

Nat hit the road on the other side; she gunned the engine, desperately trying to bring the car back under control. The leading BMW wasn't so lucky, its driver didn't even have time to respond as it slammed, full bore into the barricade and exploded. Its follower hit the ramp lopsided, it roared off the end, spinning thought the air, Nat ducked reflexively as it whistled over her head, then it slammed into the ground, skidding along on its side, trailing sparks and flame. Nat floored the accelerator, screaming off down a side street just as the Ferrari and DB-7 came flying over the barricade. Nat's Lotus roared down the street, dodging bins and miniskips. The F355 followed close behind, the big Italian supercar slamming through the debris, spraying water and rubbish into the air. More fire assailed Nat from behind, hammering through the rear window and slamming into the back of her seat. More bullets slammed into the windscreen, staring and cracking it. The Lotus exploded out the end of the street. There was nothing in front of it, just water.

'OH SHIT!'

Nat grabbed the handbrake, wrenching it on for half a second. The engine roared as she hunted through the gearbox, dropping into second. The Exige roared around the corner in a powerslide, before rocketing away up the river road. Its pursuer wasn't so lucky. The red Ferrari roared out of the alley, its driver slammed on the brakes, wheels locked but the Italian supercar's momentum carried it forward, it smashed through the guardrail, before.

SPLASH!

It hit the Thames River, twenty feet below, a massive geyser of water erupting form the surface to mark its passing. The DB-7 was last out of the alley; its driver spun the wheel, replicating Nat's poweslide and roared off in pursuit.

Nat thundered down the river road, nimbly dodging the wrecks and debris that littered it.

When this war is over I have GOT to get me one of these.

Suddenly, the road beside her exploded in a gout of flame. Debris and shrapnel peppered her car, pinging off the fiberglass body. Nat looked back through the now non-existent rear window. The DB-7 was closing, its driver weaving expertly through the garbage littering the road. The Death Eater was now hanging out of the passenger side window, magical energy erupting from his wand. Another wreck exploded beside her. Nat wrenched the steering wheel around, blasting through the next bend, the road pulling away from the river.

KABOOM!

The road in front of Nat exploded; there was nothing she could do...

...The Exige erupted out through the curtain of smoke and fire, slamming into the road on the other side. It hit the tarmac, sliding sideways. Nat revved the engine, speeding up a narrow road that branched off toward the river. Nat centered the wheel, an ominous grinding returned to her from the steering box. Up ahead was what looked like a security checkpoint, leading to a large white building. Nat's car crashed through the boom gate, splinters of wood blasting out from the impact. She roared into the car park, heading straight for the main entrance of the building. Nat wrenched the wheel left again...

CRACK! Ka-clank, ka-clank, ka-clank, ka-clank, ka-clank...

The tortured steering rack gave out, the Exige roared on ballisticaly, up the steps of the building. Nat closed her eyes.

CRASH!

The car exploded through the glass doors, sliding through the marble lobby before coming to rest against the receptionist's desk. Nat opened her eyes, steam was hissing from a split radiator.

Oh fuckberries.

Alarms were blaring somewhere in the building. Nat looked up through the shattered windscreen. Above her, on the wall was a large crest and under it the words "MI-6 British Intelligence".

You'd really think that they'd have stronger doors.

Undoing her harness, Nat reached down and picked up her gun from where it had landed in the passenger side foot well. Then she tried to open her door.

Stuck. Shit.

Sighing she kicked away what remained of the windscreen, the slid out onto the bonnet of the car, rolling off the side onto the floor.

'Hey, Braniac, you there?' said Nat into her mic.

'I'm here Boone. Hey you're not going to believe this. You're in the MI-6 building. Just like James Bond.'

'No shit.' replied Nat, deadpan. 'Can you open the doors in this place?'

'Yes.'

'Good, start opening doors.'

Nat hauled herself to her feet. It wouldn't take long for the Death Eater to call in reinforcements. She headed down. The lift, which was blessedly working this time, took her to the lower levels of the intelligence building. She walked through another deserted security checkpoint, coming to a large set of blast doors. Net eyed them; whatever was behind them had to be interesting; hopefully the armory.

'I wonder if they have those James Bond watches here,' she said quietly.

'What was that?'

'Nothing. Can you get these open?'

'Sure, it might take a few minutes though, the encryption on the security system in pretty tight.'

'Take your time.'

Nat looked around the small anteroom. There appeared to be only two ways in, the lift and another door that presumably lead to a stair well. The lift was easily taken care of, three bullets in the control panel made sure that no-one would be using it in a hurry; especially the technically inept Death Eaters. Nat set herself up behind the guard desk, pistol leveled at the door to the stair well. After a minute or two Hermione's voice crackled through Nat's ear-piece.

'Ok, door's open. I had to bypass the hydraulics so you're going to have to open it manually.'

Nat walked over to the door. Bracing herself against one side frame she heaved at the heavy metal. Slowly, painfully the door slid back on its tracks. When she had made a small opening Nat let go and squeezed through the gap. She surveyed the room she had entered; a massive underground space, chockablock with equipment, most of it water related. In the middle of the room was a deep pool that assumeably led through a river gate into the Thames.

'Um, Braniac. Can you open the river gate?'

'Miles ahead of you, just give the word.'

'Roger that.'

Nat found what she was looking for in one of the racks near the water; a wave rider, sort of. Down the side of its dark grey hull were the letters "PAC-W". Nat took a closer look now she could see that its hull had been split, a wide tunnel running down the centre. In each of the hulls Nat could see the impellers that were associated with a normal wave rider. On the inside surfaces of the tunnel was a smooth ferro-ceramic material, probably some sort of electrical conductor. Nat found the controls for the rack, releasing the clamps that held the craft in place.

SPLASH!

It slid down the racks and into the water. Nat hopped aboard, holstering her Five-seveN, then sat down on the saddle. She located the ignition. In front of her three screens sprang to life. Two each side of her showed "Fuel", "Fuel Cell Level", "Engine rpm" and "Draw". Another in the top of what should have been the fuel tank showed a plan view of the craft and two words beside it; "water jet" and "magnetic induction".

What the hell?

Nat touched the screen where it said "magnetic induction". On the centre screen the tunnel of the rider lit up orange. Nat twisted the throttle and the craft glided forward through the water, not making a sound.

Cool.

'Ok Braniac, doors.'

'Roger.'

In front of Nat the big river door began to open. When it was just high enough for her to get through, she twisted the throttle wide open. The PAC slid forward, slowly gaining speed.

Right, so it's quiet but doesn't exactly move fast.

The doors led to a narrow, concrete walled canal that ran for about fifty metres before opening out into the Thames proper. Nat's craft slid forward. There was a quiet click from the end of the canal, just like...

...a gun being cocked.

The Death Eater's buddies had arrived. Nat kept the throttle open, creeping toward the end of the canal. When she was about five metres away she hit the part of the screen marked "water jet". The orange tunnel winked out giving way to two drive trains. There was a roar of petrol engines form inside the wave rider. Nat opened the throttle wide, the engines roared and the little craft shot forward, screaming out of the sheer walled canal.

Right in front of the two Pibbers that had been waiting for it!

Nat skimmed across the surface of the Thames, 20mm shells from the Pibbers' guns kicking up geysers of water around her. The Pibber, or Patrol Boar River, had seen extensive use in Vietnam; the daring of its crews immortalized in the movie "Apocalypse Now". Fast and heavily armed they were perfect for patrolling the river of occupied London. The two darkie crewed boats roared off in pursuit of Nat, 20mm cannons blazing. Nat roared down the river, slipping her craft from side to side, avoiding the incoming fire. She swung the steering bars over, sweeping past one of the many river barges floating in the water. Up ahead was a ferry terminal, a thin walkway crossing the distance between the pontoon and dry land. Nat cut in close to the shore, speeding underneath the walkway. One of the Pibbers tried to follow; it was just a little too high. The craft's superstructure caught on the gantry, tearing the top free and spinning the boat round, slamming it into the stone wall that dropped down in the river. Nat shot past pontoon as flaming debris fell around her. The other PBR had gone around the outside. Nat jammed the handle bars hard right, as the same time leaning into the curve. The wave rider, skidded across the surface of the water, then one of the guidance vanes, usually out of the water, bit in, slamming the PAC violently onto a new track. Nat had her Five-seveN out; she sped across ahead of the Pibber, missing the speeding boat's bow by inches. She aimed back, firing over her shoulder into the cannon emplacement on the bow of the PBR, at the same time swinging herself back onto the same course. The darkie manning the gun slumped, but more were lining the rails, AK-47's up. Tracers whipped around Nat as they opened up, shots falling around her in a hailstorm of bullets. She cut back across the prow of the vessel, using it for cover. The pack came screaming rounded the next bend in the river, just ahead of the enemy. Nat looked forward again and met with a horrifying sight. A Death Eater Assault Barge, hovering just above the water, its ramp coming down.

Shit.

'Nat! Duck!'

Nat crouched low over her handle bars. There was a whooshing sound then...

BOOM!

The Pibber behind her exploded in a gout of smoke and flame. Debris rained down around Nat, slamming into the water which erupted in geysers of steam. She lifted her head up, to see Ginny Weasley, standing at the top of the Barge's ramp, a Stinger missile launcher resting on her shoulder. The big aircraft's ramp was now in the water, Nat gunned the throttle, speeding straight for the ramp; she hit it hard, sliding up and into the troop hold of the Barge. Sparks erupted from underneath the waver rider as it skidded down the length of the floor. The rear wall was coming up fast.

Ten feet.

Eight feet.

Six feet.

Four feet.

Three feet.

Nat closed her eyes.

SCREEEeeeeeeee...

Burble, burble, burble...

Nat opened her eyes. She had stopped, bare inches from the rear wall. She killed the engine of her rider before it overheated, the climbed down.

Ginny ran over and looked down at Nat's watercraft. 'Property of British Intelligence huh?'

'Yeah, but I guess it's mine now. Hey, who's flying this thing?'

Ginny smirked. 'Harry, but he isn't very good. Can you take it from here?'

'With pleasure.'