A/N: Take it, it's done. Finis. No more. That's it. Please enjoy!

XxX

The klaxons rang loudly, making Harry jump in surprise and scream a little. Only a little though.

He groaned in dismay and drew away slightly. The worst fucking timing. Harry was actually going to murder someone in cold blood if the alarm was for something minor.

"We should go check that out," Tom said reluctantly, barely audible above the whining alarms. Harry sighed, and Tom dropped his arms.

"Do we have to?" Harry asked, whined really. God he was so disappointed. This was so dumb. "We could ignore it."

"We really shouldn't," Tom said, amused, and stepped back as if to prevent himself from drawing Harry into another kiss. Harry was very much into that idea. Whatever crisis awaited Harry on the bridge could wait, right? He never hated being Captain as much as at that moment. Well, no, those first two weeks were hellish, but this moment was a close second.

"You'll tell me what you want after, though, right?" Harry asked. Tom nodded.

Harry was so tempted to just stay. Unfortunately, Harry had a very strong sense of duty, so he sighed resignedly, and they made their way to the bridge.

It was a very good thing that they had.

"Captain," the current beta shift command officer, Fleur Delacour, said in an urgent, accented tone, shining white hair swishing around her in her frenzy, "the Death Eater is hailing us."

Harry's heart leapt to his throat, his previous mood dropping like a stone. Tom stiffened, and Harry saw his hands tighten into fists in the corner of his eye.

Harry took a deep breath and told Tom, calmly, "Tell the alpha shift officers to report to the bridge immediately."

He nodded to Fleur, who only nodded back tensely, and relieved her of the rest of her shift. She escaped down the elevator, undoubtedly to start gathering the other officers for duty.

Tom immediately approached Hermione's station and said over the intercoms, "All alpha shift officers report to the bridge. I repeat, all alpha shift officers…"

Harry gnawed at his fingernail. In front of him, a giant ship was calmly stationed like this was only a routine social visit.

"The Death Eater has paling and cloaking technology," the beta shift navigator babbled nervously. He ran his hand through his hair nervously. "We didn't notice their presence until we were hailed, and when they lowered their paling, and we immediately rang the klaxons. I'm so, so sorry we didn't notice them in time, Captain."

"It wasn't your fault," Harry said quietly. The Death Eater was easily three times the size of the Marauder, equipped with state of the art technology, all powered by Avadra. Nobody in the Federation knew how developed Dershian technology was.

The rest of the alpha shift officers clambered into the bridge, relieving the beta shift and taking up position immediately.

"Hermione, open up channels. See if we can stall them while we work up an escape," Harry said. The chances of actually escaping were low, but Harry would take them.

"They've jammed our signals and erected an anti-warp field. We cannot get out," Blaise said, distress cracking his smug exterior.

"We will have to put our hopes in our weapons, then," Harry commanded, turning to Zacharias. "Power up our shields, get Cedric to redirect all power except for life support to them. Work with Blaise and Ron, see if you can spot any weakness in the Death Eater. All we need is one good shot to get away."

"Who do you think I am?" Zacharias asked cockily, but there was a tense tremor to his words.

They were all scared, and as far as they could tell, they could, would most probably die today. Harry wouldn't let that happen.

"Blaise, can you use your psionic powers to incapacitate them again?" Harry asked.

"That was a one-time deal, Captain," Blaise replied, already hunched over a panel with Zacharias. The two always were a good team, with one skillfully directing their weaponry and the other navigating the ship around obstacles. It'd gotten them out of a tight spot or two with some asteroid fields. Hopefully it would get them out of this one. "I need to focus on piloting the ship."

Harry nodded. "Ron, do you know anything about their technology? How to disrupt it?"

"Nothing," Ron replied grimly. "Dershite technology is largely unstudied and unknown."

Hermione called, "Sir, I've got a connection. Bringing up live feed."

Voldemort fizzled into existence on their screen. He was exactly as Harry remembered: pale, tall, and imposing, a threatening smile and holding onto sanity by the tips of his fingers.

"Greetings, Marauder," Voldemort said. His voice was high and cold. "I would ask you how you're faring on this fine day, but I can already guess at the answer."

"What do you want?" Harry asked, a rhetorical question because everybody on the bridge knew what the warlord wanted.

"Why, Harry," Voldemort cooed, and Harry felt like he'd been doused in dirty, oily water, "I want your life, of course."

Harry pursed his lips. He had to stall, give everyone time to figure out a way to escape. He desperately searched for ideas, but the Marauder was a sitting duck. They had no warping capability with the anti-warp field up, their engines could not even hope to outrace the Death Eater, their shields would crack under the first repulsor blast, and their weapons wouldn't even put a dent in the larger ship.

It was a no-win situation.

"And how good it is to see you again, Tom."

The sentence froze the blood in his veins. He'd known, when Tom had talked about his past, that the Dershite had worked in Voldemort's army before. He'd accepted that fact. Tom had admitted to being young, idealistic, before he couldn't bear to fight for the warlord anymore and escaped. Harry just didn't know that Voldemort had known Tom on a personal level.

Mutters broke out across the bridge. Ron looked viciously vindicated, and his phaser was out and pointed at his Commander in one smooth movement. Tom stood stock-still, jaw tensed, muscles locked.

"Stand down!" Harry barked. Tom was loyal, and Harry wouldn't allow his own crew to fire upon their trusted Commander. "Focus on my commands."

"You have your entire crew at your beck and call. You've grown up, Harry," Voldemort said carelessly. "So much stronger than when I first saw you. Quite admirable, really."

"They've compromised our beaming technology," Hermione said low enough that their microphones couldn't pick up. Harry nodded imperceptibly to acknowledge her. Well, there went his plan to sneak aboard the Death Eater and somehow sabotage it from within.

Nothing to it. "If you had me, would you release my ship?" Harry asked.

There was an even louder protest than before, this time with Tom twitching violently at his side.

"Are you crazy?" Tom hissed angrily. His hand clenched down on the Captain's chair. "I will not let you go alone."

"What are you saying?" Hermione cried.

"Enough!" Harry snapped loudly. Everyone fell silent, but clearly nobody was happy at all about Harry's suggestion. Harry breathed in and turned his attention back to Voldemort, who looked like Christmas had come early.

"Oh, willing to martyr yourself for your crewmates?" the Dershite asked. He quirked up a lip. "I may consider it."

Harry stiffened his spine and planted his feet shoulder-width apart. Shoulders back, head uplifted. Every part the Captain. "Then-"

"But why negotiate, when I can just take?" Voldemort asked gleefully. "Thank you for indulging in this conversation, Captain. We now have your exact position."

Suddenly, Harry began to feel the distinct sensation of being dissolved into millions of particles. The last thing he saw when he glanced up, horrified, was Tom's wide eyes, fear etched into every part of his features.

The next thing he felt was the sharp impact of his knees on metal floors and two sets of hands gripping his biceps.

"Look at who came to play!" someone exclaimed. "Ickle baby Potter, finally within our Lord's grasp. What a day to be alive, isn't it, Rodolphus?"

"Indeed it is, Bella," someone replied. The two sets of hands yanked Harry painfully to his feet.

Bella was a tall, beautiful Dershite, with coiled hair that hung around her face. Beautiful, but dangerously so. She pressed close to Harry's face and asked, lowly, "Can I have a taste of his blood, do you think? Would our Lord allow me a sample?"

Rodolphus was the more sane of the two, thankfully, and he jerked Harry forwards so that he stumbled a step. Together, they guided Harry out of what looked like a transporter room and down numerous hallways.

"No, Bella. The Lord likes his toys intact." Sane, but clearly just as disturbed as Bella. "He may gift you with the Human after he's done, though."

Bella hummed in pleasure.

Harry tried digging his feet in, going limp, thrashing wildly, anything to escape the iron grips around him. "Let me go," Harry snarled. He knew, though, that there was nothing he could do to get out of this situation. Although skilled in fighting, he was captured by two physically stronger aliens, and judging by their lack of even a stumble when Harry abruptly dropped his weight, he wouldn't be escaping without assistance.

"Shhh, little Human," Bella said gleefully. "Struggle too much, and Voldemort might blow your beloved ship into tiny little pieces."

Harry complied immediately. Not the Marauder.

It was a long trek down hallways, each passage identical, making it harder to build a mental map of the ship. After what seemed like hours, Harry finally arrived in front of two large doors.

Bella knocked, bloodthirsty smile painted across her pretty lips.

"Come in."

Harry's pulse pounded in his ears as the doors opened wide.

Voldemort stood, armor covering his chest, holding a familiar, glowing scepter. He smiled widely as Harry was thrown to the ground roughly, Bella cackling all the while. Harry painfully got to his feet. Only a few bruises, nothing serious.

"Leave us," he hissed, a sibilant noise that made goosebumps crawl up Harry's flesh.

"Oh, can't I stay, my Lord?" Bella asked in a simpering voice.

"Leave."

Bella made a disappointed sound, but then the two sets of footsteps retreated. Harry didn't dare to turn to watch them go. He kept his eyes trained on the warlord's face.

The Dershite spread his hands and gestured to what seemed like the main bridge. Behind him, a giant window overlooked space, with several panels crackling with green Avadra leaping between controls. Voldemort stood like a king over a prisoner, tall and proud and undeniably unhinged.

"It's good to have you here, Harry Potter," he said. Voldemort looked much like Tom did, with similar black and red eyes and red veins protruding from his sickly pale skin. Unlike Tom, though, he was bald and skeletal, like a revenant stuck between life and death. He tasted his words like sipping ambrosia, pleasure with every syllable. "Harry Potter, the boy who defeated my fleet, the boy hailed as a hero for having defeated the fearsome Lord Voldemort." He swept into a low bow and said, with a mocking lilt, "It's good to finally meet you properly. Tell me, how does your battle scar fare?"

Harry's forehead pulsed, but the pain subsided just as quickly. Harry was scared, yes. His pulse was rabbit-fast, and sweat was starting to drip down his spine. But he wasn't scared of the man who had tried to kill him so long ago. He was scared for his crew, his friends, his family, yes, but not this alient before him.

Harry had overcome his fear of Avadra and Voldemort a long time ago.

"Feeling pretty good," Harry replied with false bravado. "How does it feel to not have any army anymore?"

Voldemort chuckled, amused. "Trying to goad me, Potter? Unfortunately, you're much too young to try to play mind games with me."

"Pity," Harry drawled, subtly rotating his wrists and shoulders. He had no weapons, and if he had to fight, he only had his own body. It would have to do. "Was hoping we could brawl it out, and then you'd let me and mine go."

Voldemort cocked his head like a curious dog, letting the statement hang in the air. He gave a sigh, a pitying one that set Harry's teeth on edge. "Your death would be such a waste. You have so much potential. A recent graduate from Hogwarts, yes?" Voldemort began pacing around Harry. Harry turned with him, eyeing the Dershite warily. "And within a week, the Captain of a ship! Loyal crewmates who would give their lives up for you, brave, intelligent. I would welcome you on my ship."

Harry nearly gaped at Voldemort. The alien was clearly insane.

"You want to invite your enemy to work with you?" Harry asked, disbelief coloring his voice.

"We're similar, you and I. Both ripped away from our homes, both without family. Join me," Voldemort crooned, stopping in front of the glass window. He fingered his scepter lovingly before stalking forwards like a giant predator. His scepter clanged on the metal floor. "We could be great together. We could conquer universes, destroy the Federation for their incompetence, build a new government in the image of our ideals. Join me. I will only make this offer once."

"Sorry, I don't think I can follow a megalomaniac," Harry replied, stepping backwards warily.

"A megalomaniac? I only want vengeance!" Voldemort screeched, insanity lining every muscle in his body as he swung from calm and composed to wrathful. "To destroy the Federation like they destroyed my home. To give the Federation a taste of their own negligence when they fail to protect their own home, which would have happened if you hadn't interfered! Did they not let your parents die?"

Low blow. Harry struggled to keep his anger in check. His parents had died because Voldemort's fleet had killed them, how dare he blame it on the Federation?

"You think revenge will solve your problems?" Harry snarled. "What do you think will happen once you destroy the Federation? What next? You'll only destroy more and more, and you won't ever stop!"

"All the better," Voldemort said, abruptly soft and deadly. "Let the universe burn for my pain." There was the sound of the door behind him opening, and Harry turned and exhaled in relief when he saw Tom, before his presence truly registered.

"Tom, get out of here," Harry hissed, eyes darting over Tom's inexplicable unharmed appearance. What was he doing here? How did he get past the beam interceptor?

"Ah, good of you to come," Voldemort said, delighted, and Harry whirled back around, put Tom at his back so that he could keep his eyes on the enemy. "You've delivered well."

Harry blinked, confused. A very bad feeling began creeping up his spine, something he didn't want to consider, refused to consider. "What?"

Voldemort smiled, a sickly, demented stretch of lipless mouth. It was a humorless smile, one that implied that Harry was missing some important point. "Oh, you haven't told him, Tom? Of your duplicity?"

"I believed it was best for you to reveal," Tom replied, tonelessly. Dead. Harry had never, during any point of his acquaintanceship with his Commander, heard anything as flat and unemotional.

"Oh, it's wonderful that you've inherited my flair for the dramatics. The great reveal." Oh god, oh no, this was a dream. This was all a horrible nightmare, and Harry was going to wake up, cradled in Tom's arms, and laugh about the dream when they had breakfast. This wasn't…this couldn't… "I admit, I was concerned when you stopped reporting in after Nurmengard, but given the suspicion at the time, you could be forgiven. And in the end, you fulfilled your mission anyways."

What. What, no, please. Voldemort couldn't be implying what Harry thought he was.

"I thank you for your praise."

Voldemort narrowed his eyes, fixed on Harry's face as the words passed through his mouth, drinking in Harry's horror with sadistic amusement. "You've made me proud, son."

Time stopped. Cruel glee shined in Voldemort's eyes as Harry processed what was just said. His son. Tom was Voldemort's son. Tom had been acting for Voldemort all along. Tom, who soothed him after nightmares, who listened to every confession, who laughed and joked and teased. Tom who…

"Son," Harry asked. Ice leaked through his veins. Voldemort laughed, chillingly, a sound that froze Harry's brain and made him repeat the same phrase over and over again. His son, his son, his son.

"Tom Riddle is as much my son as you are James Potter's," Voldemort hissed gleefully, and it was the same sibilant sound Tom made when he was angry or worried. "How does it feel, to be betrayed by someone you trust? I must admit, it's such a striking parallel! We trusted the Federation, who did not come in our hour of need. You trusted my son, who has been working against you since you set foot into your ship. How sweet and fitting revenge is!"

Voldemort spun to look out over the stars, hands held wide as if to encompass the entire universe.

"And!" he said, all frenetic energy, like a child, "After you, we will head for the Federation. Your death will send a message. Perhaps I should keep your head as a trophy? To show that nothing can stop us now?"

Panic. Horror. Anger. Emotions crowded Harry's brain, but he refused to turn around, to see the alien he had trusted, the one he had loved, given his soul and heart to. Who, only one hour ago, he had confessed to, kissed, dreamed of a future together with.

"That time, on Nurmengard, it was you who sent the transmission signal," Harry said, without turning around. He couldn't face his…former Commander. An intense feeling of betrayal ripped through him, clawing jagged wounds and bleeding fresh blood.

"It was I," Tom intoned. He seemed to be carved out of marble, and Harry couldn't read any emotions in his voice, none in his tone. Harry choked on a sob, forced it down. He was a Captain. He was the Marauder's Captain, and he had an oath-bound duty to protect them, to protect the Federation.

He couldn't let his heart get in the way, couldn't allow his emotions to weaken him. This…this was a lie. Denial raged through him. A misunderstanding. It had to be. It had to be.

"I defended you," Harry said, a pleading note in his voice, like he could convince Tom that this had all been some kind of misunderstanding. This was a dream, and Tom was lying. Tom wouldn't betray the crew. He loved the ship too much.

"And it was an admirable move on your part, but Weasley was right," Tom said.

"Was…" Harry began, swallowing noisily. "Was it all a lie?" Was your love only a fabrication, meant to earn my trust? Was ever moment we shared only genuine from my end?

"I'm afraid so." Cloth shifted behind him. Harry kept looking forwards, staring at Voldemort. There was a click, the sound of a phaser turning, the familiar crackle of Avadra. "Father, if I may?"

Voldemort shrugged. "Might as well. You may do the honors. You deserve to reap the rewards of your effort."

Tom was going to kill Harry. Harry could feel something in him crack, shatter, jagged pieces that probably would never get glued back together again. Harry was about to die at Tom's hands and…

He couldn't allow that. Harry was the Captain of the Marauder, one of the most decorated ships in the Space Federation, a ship entrusted to him. He would not allow himself to die, not even at the hands of Tom Riddle.

Harry turned, slowly, to gaze upon the face of the alien he loved.

Tom's face was blank, stone cold, lit up by the glowing Avadra phaser he held in his hand. He levelled his it, set to kill, at Harry. It powered up, green energy crackling within the barrel, and Harry tensed, readying himself to move, to dodge. Tom had always been a remarkable marksman, but Harry was always good at hand-to-hand combat, with lightning fast reflexes. Harry would just need to dodge and make it out of this situation alive.

And then after…

He'd think about after when he got out of here.

There was a tense silence, a stare-off between Captain and Commander. Tom lowered his head, and Harry saw something flit across his face, almost too fast to identify. But Harry caught it.

"I'm afraid, father, that I've been compromised. I cannot follow your orders anymore."

Harry moved as deadly green energy scream past his head, leaping forwards to grab the other phaser tucked into Tom's belt. There was a surprised screech, and Harry turned to see Voldemort kneeling, wrist clutched in one hand, scepter clattered to the floor. The green energy dissipated in a shower of sparks against armor as Voldemort returned to stand, nose flared in anger and red lines spreading across his face.

"So you've betrayed me," Voldemort said, quietly.

"I was loyal, father, until you threatened someone I loved."

"I will destroy you," Voldemort screamed, and in his anger he forgot his scepter on the ground. He lunged, fingers spread wide as if to wrap them around their necks and personally strangle the life out of them.

This time, Harry aimed directly at Voldemort's face and pulled the trigger. There was a pained screech. Tom grabbed Harry's wrist to haul him backwards. "Let's go!"

Tom dragged him down the hallway. Behind him, there was a blast of Avadra, strong enough to score a black mark along the metal walls. Harry ran, following Tom down halls and hoping that Tom knew where he was going. Ahead, there were the sounds of shouting. Guards.

Tom wheeled around a corner and jumped, kicking a guard who toppled into others. Tom didn't bother fighting them, only shot his Avadra phaser in their general direction. They raced past the disoriented guards, and Tom put a hand to his ear.

"Marauder, this is Commander Riddle. The Captain is with me. ETA five minutes."

"And how, exactly…" Harry panted, barreling into another guard with his shoulder. Tom landed a punch that knocked the Dershite unconscious. "…are you…getting us out…of here?"

Tom grunted, wincing as he blocked a blow with his forearm. Harry aimed over Tom's shoulder, and there was a crackle of energy as his phaser knocked Tom's attacker over.

Tom grabbed Harry's wrist, and they darted down another hallway. Harry could hear pursuers behind him. Tom took a sharp turn, and Harry was surprised to find them in the transporter room again. And of course Tom would know what he was doing, he was Voldemort's son.

Harry pushed down the thought quickly. He couldn't focus on that, he had to focus on now.

"The beam interceptor does not affect Dershian technology," Tom said quietly. He shut the transporter room door quietly and locked it, ear cocked for any noise. Harry could hear several feet thudding past their door, but thankfully nobody decided to check their hiding area. Yet. "You can get out of here."

'You.' Tom wasn't planning on joining him. "I'm not leaving without you," Harry snarled. What, Tom thought he could just drop a huge bombshell on Harry and then leave?

"Somebody needs to stop Voldemort from following the Marauder," Tom replied, and there was something defeated in his tone, something that made Harry want to simultaneous bash the Dershite's head in and hug him and never let go. "I know where the main Avadra pipeline is. I can destroy it to set off a chain reaction. The Death Eater won't be a problem anymore."

And I'll die, in the process. Harry could hear the unspoken sentence clear as day, having thought the same thing over and over before.

"You will not martyr yourself for us!" Harry practically roared, only the nagging awareness that he couldn't raise his voice in case they were found keeping his volume under manageable levels. He breathed in to calm himself. "You will return to the Marauder with me. That is an order from your Captain."

Tom shook his head ruefully. "We would not be able to escape."

"We'll figure out a way."

"Let me atone for my mistakes!" Tom snapped. Harry knew that feeling all too well. He had, after all, spent his first several months on the Marauder feeling it every day. It was a dark and lonely road. Harry wouldn't let Tom make the same mistakes.

"I will not allow you to sacrifice your life," Harry growled fiercely. His fingers dug into Tom's forearm, and he glared at Tom vehemently. He hissed, "I deserve an explanation. Everybody deserves an explanation."

"I already told them," Tom said quietly. "I admitted everything before they allowed me to come after you." He gestured at his ear, where the comm sat. "They know about my plans. They agree."

"Well I don't fucking agree!" Harry grabbed a fistful of Tom's shirt and yanked him down until they were nose to nose, and Harry seethed into Tom's face, "And I'm not going unless you come with me."

Tom remained silent, but Harry could see the cogs turning in Tom's brain. The Commander had always been smart, crafty. He knew they were wasting precious time arguing.

"…very well," Tom said, all business. "Do you trust me, Harry?"

And wasn't that the goddamn question of the fucking century.

"Yes."

And it took less than a second to answer.

"One of us needs to shut down the beam interceptor, back on the main bridge," he said briskly. "And one will have to find the engine room and blow up the main line. I know the way around the ship better, and it will be faster for me to find the engine room. You will need to backtrack to the control room. The beam interceptor control panel is there."

"I don't know anything about Dershian technology," Harry argued. He suddenly felt very out of his depth, but Harry always did work best when someone's life was on the line. He knew how to keep a calm head during a tense situation. It was what allowed him to survive Nurmengard. It would help him now. "But I'll figure out a way," he said confidently. He'd have to. There was no other choice.

Tom nodded. He tapped his comm. "It will take me at least ten minutes to reach the engine room. When I blow up the Avadra pipeline, I'll tell Lieutenant Commander Diggory to beam us up immediately. You will have to have the interceptor turned off by then."

And what if you just leave me here to die? Harry wanted to ask. Tom had betrayed him before. What guarantee did he have that Tom would tell Cedric to beam them both out in time?

"Do you trust me, Harry?"

"Yes."

And on the other hand, how did Tom know that Harry would bring down the beam interceptor? Tom trusted Harry to do his job. Harry would have to do the same.

Harry's faith in Tom's skills were the only thing he could trust right now.

"Go," Harry whispered. He tugged Tom into a rough kiss, all teeth and anger, one hand clenched almost painfully into Tom's hair. "Don't you dare die on me," Harry said, fiercely, willing Tom to understand. "Promise me. Promise me."

Tom grinned, bright and dangerous and determined. "By your command, Captain."

And Tom disappeared as the door clicked shut. Harry took a second to gather himself. That hadn't been a promise.

There was the distant sound of shouts, and then fighting breaking out. He gave Tom a minute before he crept out of the room himself.

Having been down the path two times now, Harry found it easier to find his way to the bridge. The harder part was getting past the guards. Harry couldn't afford for them to follow him to the bridge, so he took down each Dershite he came across with vicious punches and merciless phaser shots. Harry didn't hesitate, couldn't afford to hesitate. He mentally thanked Cho for stepping up their sparring sessions as he parried a punch and roundhouse kicked a Dershite in the face.

It was a blur of action, anger, and determination. Harry would reach the bridge, and he would turn off the beaming interceptor. For Tom, if for nobody else.

Harry wasn't sure if Tom had reached the engine room yet, if Tom would blow both of them up before Harry even got to the bridge.

He didn't allow himself to think about it. There was no room for what ifs.

When Harry finally reached the bridge, he was relieved to find it empty, almost suspiciously so. Perhaps Tom had gotten arrogant, not believing Harry would return. There was no sign of guards or Voldemort, which meant…

…which meant they had gone after Tom.

Harry was tempted to turn back, to find Tom, make sure he was safe, but no. He couldn't. He had a job to do, and he had to trust Tom. At least, for now.

The control panels frankly all looked similar. Harry spied what looked like where a navigator would sit, and perhaps another where communications would. He looked over unfamiliar characters and switches, scanning for anything that looked remotely would turn off ship technology.

And…there. Harry hurried over to the panel, where there was something that looked like it would control weapons and shielding, with what looked like the controls for aiming a repulsor. Harry squinted at the panel and frowned. Honestly, it looked so different from the weapons panel on the Marauder, but if they were even remotely similar, what controlled the beaming interceptor was most probably a switch.

And so, Harry began flipping the switches. Logically, Voldemort would have his own shielding and paling turned up to the max, weapons primed to fire, right? So Harry would just have to turn every switch to its opposite position and hope that one of them would allow Cedric to beam him and Tom off this ship.

Sometimes, working technology required skill. In this case, it required dumb luck.

The moment Harry flicked the last switch, he sagged against the desk. He hung his head and closed his eyes and prayed.

There was another distant explosion that echoed throughout the ship, but nobody entered the main bridge. Tom must have been keeping them distracted. Harry worried at his lip before straightening resolutely.

He'd done what he could here. He could go after Tom, perhaps draw some of the attention away from the Commander and make his job easier.

Harry took a step, mind made up, when he felt the tingling sensation of being beamed start from his toes.

He sighed in relief. Harry had turned off the beaming interceptor. Tom had done it. Tom had done it.

He closed his eyes, and when he opened them, he was back in the transporter room on the Marauder. He turned, congratulations on the tip of his tongue.

Tom wasn't beside him.

"Harry, thank god you're alright," Cedric said.

Harry whirled in a full circle, thinking he'd missed Tom's arrival. Did Tom get back before he did?

"Where's Tom?" he asked desperately. Hovering around the door were Ron and Hermione. Hermione had her fingers wrapped in Ron's shirt, tears streaming down her face, relief clear across her expression. She stepped forward and wrapped Harry in a hug.

"You're okay, you're okay," she chanted, wrapping her arms tighter around him.

"Where's Tom?" he repeated, eyes fixed on Ron.

"Glad you're back," Ron said, deliberately ignoring Harry's question.

Panic crawled up Harry's throat. "Where. Is. Tom?"

"He told us to beam you back the moment our beaming technology came back online," Cedric explained. He was wringing his hands together, eyes furrowed in worry. "He said to get us away from the explosion the moment you were on the ship. If he succeeded, the Death Eater could cause damage to us, so we needed to distance ourselves."

"Not acceptable," Harry snapped. He gently detached himself from Hermione and held out his hand. "Get me a comm, Hermione."

"There's nothing you can do, mate," Ron said quietly. Harry didn't pay him any attention.

"I'll be the one to decide if there's something to do or not." Harry fixed the comm handed to him into an ear and began striding quickly towards the main bridge, Ron and Hermione at his heels. He tapped his comm. "Cedric, do you hear me?"

"Yes, sir," came the tinny answer.

"Tell Tom that he's a fucking asshole, in those words exactly, and to report to you the moment he gets to that line." The elevator whirred and opened seamlessly before Harry, depositing him onto the bridge.

"Captain, good to have you back," Blaise said.

"Good to be back. Hermione, link me to Tom's comm. We need to have a conversation about making someone else's decisions for them." Pissed? Oh yes, Harry was spitting mad. Combined with the almost overwhelming worry and desperation at the thought of losing Tom, the anger allowed Harry to make decisions, settle into that battle calm. He would drag Tom back on this ship kicking and screaming if he had to.

"Harry." The comm crackled a bit before the connection stabilized. Tom sounded relieved before he grunted. There was a crash and the whirring of a phaser in the background. "You're safe."

"And you're not," Harry replied. He narrowed his eyes. "Blaise, prepare to warp when I give the signal."

"We're not leaving now?" the psionic asked, relieved. Blaise gave a sharp grin. "Good. I didn't like the Commander's plan either."

"Harry, you need to get out of here now. An explosion on the scale of the Death Eater will damage the ship and-"

"And that is exactly why we'll warp when I give the signal. The moment that line explodes, Cedric will warp you back here, and Blaise will get us as far away from the Death Eater as quickly as possible."

"That's too-" another grunt. Harry could hear Tom exhale sharply, painfully. "-risky. Get out of there now."

"Not a chance."

"Just leave me!"

"DYING DOESN'T FIX ANYTHING!" Harry roared. He breathed through his fear, his anger, his pure desperation and said, "Come back to me, Tom. Please. I'm not leaving until you do. You owe me this."

Silence, broken only by the distant sounds of fighting.

"You can't do that." Tom sounded broken. There was the distant sound of running, and then the clang of a door bursting open. "You can't put the ship in danger just for me."

"Then don't put in a position that will harm them," Harry replied. He closed his eyes, counted his breaths.

Pants, and then the sound of running stopped.

"...okay." Tom sounded so small.

"Okay," Harry echoed, relieved. They would be fine. Everything would be fine. "On your-"

"And what, son, do you think you're doing?"

The voice was familiar. Voldemort.

"I'm putting an end to your reign of terror, father."

"Tsk. After everything I've done for you, everything I've done for our people, you're willing to throw it away? And for what? Because you've chosen a Human over your own family and people?"

Silence.

"Put the phaser down. Put it down, and I will let your Human go."

Good. Tom was at the main line. Harry held out a hand to Blaise, palm forwards in a stop motion. He waited, every muscle wired with tension. He couldn't be late in giving the signal.

"I have the advantage, father."

"You're helping the same organization that abandoned us in our time of need!" Voldemort screamed, and Harry felt a pang of…something. Sympathy, perhaps, for a man driven insane by revenge, by the loss of his people and culture and planet. Harry closed his eyes. "You'd allow them to get away with the murder and genocide of our race, our species?"

"You've had your revenge, father. You've already slaughtered hundreds, destroyed colonies and decimated planets. It is time to stop."

"I WILL NOT STOP UNTIL THE FEDERATION IS DUST BENEATH MY FEET!"

"Don't make me kill my own father," Tom pleaded. And suddenly, it occurred to Harry what, exactly, he was asking Tom to do, what Tom was determined to do.

Patricide.

Voldemort had always been the bogeyman, the cruel and merciless warlord, but it didn't truly hit Harry until now that he had had a family before, a wife whom he loved dearly and a son whom he cherished. Someone with a home, someone who cherished his planet and culture with every atom in his being, someone who lost everything to the negligence of a few people.

And Tom was about to kill his only remaining people.

Harry closed his eyes. Tom didn't deserve this.

But Harry wouldn't stop him.

Unfortunately, in this universe, many people did not deserve what they received.

"If you do not kill me here and now, I will continue. I will not stop. Do you understand me? I will not stop until everyone is dead."

Ragged breathing, a hitched sob.

"…I'm so sorry, father."

There was a faint, weary sigh.

Harry yelled into his comm, "Beam him in, Cedric! Blaise, now!"

There was the distant sound of the fizzling energy of a phaser pulse. Harry abandoned his position, dashing out of the bridge. He ran towards the transporter room, heart beating a tattoo against his chest, praying to whatever god was out there.

The ship jolted into a warp, the walls buzzing with the force of transportation. There was a slight shudder before the ship's flight smoothed out again. They had gotten far enough from the explosion just in time, perhaps with some minor damage, but Harry could deal with everything else later. Right now…

Tom.

Harry burst into the transporter room.

And there, solid, bruised and bloodied but relatively unharmed, phaser clenched in one hand, red tears trickling down his face and hand covering his mouth in grief, was Tom.

Tom looked up, full of pain and hurt and so much sadness.

"I did it," he whispered.

Harry pulled Tom into a tight hug and didn't let go.

XxX

"How long?"

Harry sat on one of the couches on the observation deck. He refused to look at Tom, bandaged and cleaned up from the fight only hours ago. Draco had checked them both silently, for once without a snarky comment.

Nobody had dared to say anything after Tom's return. Nobody brought up Tom's betrayal, and nobody stopped Harry when he dragged Tom up to the observation deck for a private conversation.

"How long had you been working for Voldemort?"

Because clearly Tom had lied about escaping from Voldemort's army, about his past. Yeah, that stung of betrayal.

"…I stopped reporting to him after Nurmengard," Tom replied. There was something so dead in his voice, sorrowful and mourning, but Harry couldn't touch that. Not now, not yet.

"Why?"

Tom was silent, staring out at the stars like they contained all the answers to his questions, like they would make everything right again.

Nothing would be right for a long, long time.

"I wanted to hate you, from the bottom of my hearts," Tom said miserably. He refused to look up into Harry's eyes. Harry allowed him to continue his explanation. "After Voldemort's fleet was decimated and you returned a war hero, I wanted so much to hate you, but I couldn't, because I knew he wouldn't stop, and I knew his followers wouldn't stop until they had wiped out millions of lives. I couldn't do it. I couldn't follow my father's plans for vengeance. That's why I left his army at first to work as a spy in the Federation. Because I was a coward, and I didn't want to be directly responsible for so many deaths under Voldemort's command.

"And then I met you. I saw how much you suffered. You looked like you were carrying the whole world on your shoulders, Harry," Tom said, pleadingly, willing so hard for Harry to understand. "I called our location in to Voldemort, told him we were at Nurmengard. And when I left you there, I told myself I was doing the right thing.

"I'd never hated myself more," Tom admitted in a small voice. "When you came back, I was so relieved, because you were brave and strong and willing to give your own life up for mine, for someone who had put you in danger in the first place. You were amazing. I…I think that was when I began falling in love with you."

Harry didn't say a word, only listened. He needed this. Closure, for everything that had happened.

Tom gave a broken, wet laugh, full of self-loathing, the kind that Harry knew meant he was blaming himself for everything. "When you protected me from a blow on that damned forest planet, I was furious. Who did you think you were, to protect me? Why would someone so brilliant and loyal to his ship and crew risk his own life for mine?

"It always baffled me, how you couldn't see your own worth. You held the loyalty of a whole ship in your hands, and you didn't think you deserved it. You couldn't see that half the crew adored you after only a month as her Captain, and the other half followed after you willingly sacrificed your life to save theirs. And I wanted to show you that you did deserve it.

"I stopped reporting to my father then. I couldn't bring myself to put your life in danger deliberately again, not after you were so willing to save mine. And then we spent nights talking about our pasts, and I wanted to tell you the truth so much. I was about to. But I was scared. Scared that you'd throw me in a cell, scared that you'd lose all respect for me. I was a coward, so I didn't tell you. You told me everything, and I lied to your face.

"When you were kidnapped, I was furious. I wanted to rip out Crouch's throat, I wanted to make sure nobody would harm you every again." Here, Tom snarled, a small burst of anger that quickly died as he realized that he probably didn't have the right to get mad at someone else hurting Harry. Harry felt pettily, viciously satisfied. "I realized, when you were safe back on the ship, that I didn't want to lose you. I never wanted to lose you again.

"When you were poisoned, and your life depended on me to synthesize an antivenin, I was terrified. Your life was in my hands, so fragile. It would have destroyed me if you died because of me." Tom's voice choked. "I worked so hard, and when I finally finished it, it'd been eighteen hours, and if you died because I'd been too slow, I'd have blamed myself for the rest of my life. I think those were one of the worst eighteen hours of my life, when you were depending on me. I'd never felt as relieved as I had when you woke up.

"A-And then." Tom closed his eyes, buried his face in his hands. When he spoke again, his voice was muffled. "You told me that you loved me. I was overjoyed. I thought that the moment would last forever. That everything would be fine, because you loved me, and I loved you so much. I-I thought that you could look past my mistakes. And I tried to tell you again, but we were interrupted."

"By Voldemort," Harry finished. He kept staring out at the stars, holding onto his anger, his hurt. He couldn't let it go, because if he did, if he forgave Tom of this mistake, he could never respect himself again.

"By my father," Tom said. He breathed in deeply and raised his head. "When he revealed to the rest of the crew that I used to work with him, and when you were taken, I knew I had to go after you. I had to right my wrongs, atone for my mistakes. The crew didn't make it easy for me," he said wryly, and Harry had a sneaking suspicious that Ron was the main factor in arguing against Tom. Good, loyal Ron. "I told them everything, convinced them to let me follow you. And they let me go. They trusted me, right after they found out that I'd been selling you out for so long." There was wonder in his voice.

"I was determined to die on that ship, Harry. To take the easier way out. I didn't want to face you or the crew again, but you forced me to come back. And I came back."

Silence. Harry waited patiently.

"Do you know what I saw, Harry, when I looked in his eyes?" Tom asked, and Harry knew he was referring to Voldemort. His own father. Tom sounded so vulnerable, so sad and desperate and broken. Harry wanted to help him, put him back together, but he couldn't bring himself to do so. Not now, not yet. "He wanted me to kill him. He knew that if I did not end his life now, he would go on, keep going, and would not stop unless someone else stopped him. He wanted me to kill him.

"But in the end, I killed him not because he wanted me to, nor because he would destroy so many more lives if he did.

"I did it because I love you, and because he would keep coming after you unless I stopped him."

Tom stopped, done, waiting for judgement.

Harry closed his eyes, because before him was the alien whom he loved, the one he'd confessed every secret to. And before him was the alien who lied to him, who might have been partly responsible for Harry's parents' deaths. The one who'd saved him. The one who'd put him in danger in the first place.

"I'm sorry," Tom croaked, hunched. Shame crawled across his shoulders, and there was a self-loathing that he wore better than Harry had ever worn himself.

"I don't forgive you," Harry said softly. There was a strangled sob. Harry stood from the couch, hands in his pockets. "I won't forgive you for a very long time. And I don't know if I ever will.

"But."

Tom breathed in sharply.

"I still love you," Harry said. He stared into space. Thousands of possibilities. Thousands of roads to take. Thousands of paths to forgiveness, to possibly mend this relationship or break it into tiny little pieces. "But I still love you."

And Tom understood what Harry left unspoken.

It would take time to fix what was broken, to piece together the shattered bits of their relationship. It would take effort on both of their parts. They would probably fight again, shout and scream and cry. But eventually…

Eventually, they could be okay. They could make it back to where they were before, just a little more banged up and scratched, just a little bit stronger for it. They could become Captain and Commander again, perhaps even joke and share silent moments on the observation deck again.

They could never talk to each other again. Or they could spend the next four and a half years looking for a way forward.

Harry would take that chance.

"Okay," Tom said softly.

They could be okay again, amongst the million stars in the universe and thousands of planets, the hundreds of possibilities and moments shared.

They could be okay again.

XxX

A/N: Once again, thank you so very much for reading. I started this two years ago, and after a very long break came back to it and finished it! I'm satisfied with the ending, personally. They won't be okay for a while, but they could be if they tried.

I don't know how I feel about this fic. On one hand, I'm very satisfied. This is my first completed multichapter, and I'm happy to have one to my name. On the other hand, I feel like I could have filled out the world so much more, taken my time with some of the interactions or explored more possibilities. But, I got tired of it, and I'm done. So. Here you are.

To each and every reader, thank you very much for your unending support.

Again, thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Sincerely,

haplesshippo