Seven for Tanelorn

Six

The Masters' Redoubt, Moon Tanelorn

The suspensors Baron Harkonnen wore under his clothing were designed to allow him to move normally despite his gross weight. However, with a small adjustment, they could also allow him to move with surprising speed. He doubted that anyone could guess where he was going. The Master had been very secretive about this room, only he and his ever-present shadow, the Sith warrior Maul, had been permitted in here. But Piter had, of course, plumbed every secret of this place at his Barons' command, so Harkonnen knew the access code to the door, and what was in there.

The device would have been forbidden within the Imperium, since it contained a computer, more than a computer. If Jehanne Butler had only seen this, Harkonnen thought, her Jihad would have been even more of a disaster for humanity than it turned out to be.

The machine was a mass of cables and wires, attached to power-sources, transmitters and sensors, but at the core was a Borg vinculum. This had been the Masters' greatest find, salvaged from a Borg scout-craft which had crashed in the mountains to the south. Before then, he had only commanded the loyalty of Maul and Voldemort, and an uneasy alliance with Harkonnen himself. But the damaged vinculum, once in the rogue TimeLords' hands, had gained him the service of the Borg drones who crewed the ship. The Master had reprogrammed the vinculum, boosted its power and the wavelengths it transmitted on, gaining control of the Cylons first, then the Cybermen, and finally the Crimos.

The Borg and the Cybermen lacked the resources to extensively assimilate or upgrade the other wanderers and outlaws who roamed the wild places of Tanelorn. They had been captured, of course, and the Master had tried to control them with the vinculum, but without success. Lacking the technology that was an integral part of the Borg and Cybermen, the purely mechanical nature of the Cylons, and the essential weakness of the psychopathic minds of the Crimos, they had resisted. Resistance had driven them mad, every last one of them, and they were penned in the dungeons of this place, awaiting the Masters' victory, when they would be given, along with the Borg, as reward to the Cybermen, for upgrading or deletion.

No more, though. Harkonnen had studied the machine, studied the plans Piter had copied for him. He knew the vulnerable points and it was at these points he placed the small explosive charges he always carried with him. Then he retreated to the second room, the one only the Master himself ever entered, and activated the detonator. The explosions were small, not over-loud, but the machine went dark and silent at once.

There was a slight sound behind him, and the Baron spun, bringing up the tiny poison dart projector that was his weapon of last defence.

The dark eyes seemed to swallow him whole. He heard a voice intoning: "I am the Master. You will obey me. You will...obey...me."

The entrance to the Masters' base was well-hidden, but not so well-hidden that Logan couldn't find it, and not so well locked that a simple Opening Spell couldn't gain the three-man expedition entry.

"I don't like it." Wolverine muttered. "It's too quiet."

"Anything at all?" Titus asked.

"Lot of scents, all of them at least a couple hours old. Nothing current or recent that I'm getting yet." Logan told him.

They could have made a dash, but all three were old hands. They were thorough. They searched. They checked every room. Mess-halls, barracks, repair and maintenance shops, practice floors. But always heading toward the centre, until they came to the large Council room and found their first opposition.

The only thing Logan scented was machinery, but even then, his instincts warned him and he was diving and rolling the moment he entered the room. Harry recognised the shapes just in time to throw up a shield. Titus' armour absorbed the first blast, but he also recognised the attackers and knew they would get through eventually, unless he stopped them.

Harry had fought Daleks before, but these were different. Larger, heavier-looking, better armoured, if he was any judge. Their weapons had been boosted as well, if the pressure on his shield was an indicator. There were two of them, both with garish red shells, but they came on with the usual chant of "Ex-ter-min-ate! Ex-ter-min-ate!"

Titus had rolled to one side with a speed that belied his armoured bulk. Now he came up on one knee and opened fire with his Storm Bolter. One Dalek stopped in its tracks, battered by the hail of fire, but this was a New Paradigm drone, and its more advanced shell held.

A silver glow suddenly surrounded Harrys' wand. As he stared, the Spell Enhancer that Dr Strange had placed there before Harrys' last fight against Daleks, and which had vanished immediately afterward, reappeared.

The Dalek which had fired at Harry glided forward to attack again, then Wolverine was on it. Dalekanium is a near-indestructible compound of bonded polycarbides interlaced with a rare metal once found only on Skaro. It can resist lasers, bombs, most projectile weapons, nuclear explosions and even some magic. But Logans' claws were coated with adamantium, harder and sharper than mithril steel, able to penetrate anything short of neutronium. Daleks have no abilities in close combat, and the drone was being systematically cut to pieces by one of the best close fighters ever born.

Harry went to Titus' aid, levelling his wand and invoking, "Reducto!"

Already weakened by Titus' fire, the shell split open and within moments the mutant creature inside had been shredded. Wolverine had cut the armour from the second and was staring in disgust at the thing inside.

"What the Hell are these things?" He wanted to know.

"They're called Daleks." Titus told him. "And they're part of a very long story that we don't need to get into right now."

"All you need to know, and remember, Logan," Harry put in, "is that they'll kill anything that isn't another Dalek on sight! You need to kill them before they kill you." He raised his wand and pointed it at the Kaled mutant that was struggling to escape its wrecked armour and attack them. "Avada Kedavra!" The thing died without a sound. "One more thing," Harry said to Logan, "never show a Dalek mercy. They don't have any use for it."

The Enhancer vanished from Harry's wand as suddenly as it had appeared. Harry stared at the wand. Just how much does Strange know? He asked himself. He's Dumbledore all over again, but about a hundred times more powerful!

"Well, now we know the Daleks are involved in this," Titus said, "the possible scenarios just got much worse! We were lucky there were only two here, or we'd be dead!"

"We need to find the control centre for this place." Logan said. "Titus, you should be able to figure out the tech that's being used. I can dope out the strategic stuff and weapons. Harry here can deal with any weird stuff."

"Why do I get the weird stuff?" Harry asked.

Logan looked at him with a twisted grin. "You just killed somethin' by pointin' a stick at it and sayin' words bub! Where I come from, that classes as weird!"

Harry was about to reply when something happened. Something strange, but all too horribly familiar. A surge of burning pain shot through his scar, and a familiar but long absent shadow fell over his mind.

"Oh, fuck!" He shouted. "Not him! Not here!" He squinted through the pain at his allies. "I have to go, guys. This is personal, and you can't help. Be back as soon as I can." He paused. "And if I'm not, tell Ginny it was Him again!"

With that, he turned on the spot and vanished with a loud pop.

"What was that all about?" Logan demanded.

"I think Harry just sensed the presence of an old enemy." Titus told him. "I wonder if that's why..."

Logan held up his hand. "Hold it, big guy!" He snapped. "We got incoming, and it stinks!"

They came through the doors at a shambling run. They were filthy, ragged, starved. They brandished every kind of crude weapon. Their eyes were either empty, or filled with mindless rage. They repeated a single word as they came on. "Kill! Kill! Kill!"

The dungeon was dark, damp, foetid with human waste, rotted flesh and blood. The creatures – they were no longer human – in the cages milled around restlessly. Sometimes they fought, and those that lost were partially devoured by the survivors.

But they turned with a common surge of hatred as the tall figure appeared in the chamber. With a flick of his wand, Voldemort released them all, then vanished again even as they came for him.

Harry had apparated to where he felt the Dark Lords' presence most strongly. The room was large, and empty except for one corner. In that corner was a stool, and on the stool stood a naked man. He was grossly, hugely, impossibly fat, with pasty white skin and great masses of dark body hair. It was obvious that he stood only with the greatest of difficulty. His legs, though thick as tree-trunks, were clearly more fat than muscle. He had the face of a spoiled child on the head of a grown man, and there was a noose round his neck, fastened somewhere in the shadows above.

Hermione, perhaps even Ron, would have rushed to the mans' aid. A simple Levitation spell was all that was needed. But Harry recognised Harkonnen, he knew what this man had done, to whole planets, whole peoples, in his pursuit of power and wealth. So Harry watched dispassionately as the Barons' legs finally gave out and the stool fell and rolled away. He watched as the noose, designed to strangle, not snap the neck, did its slow work. Then, when he was sure the monster was dead, he severed the rope and the gross bulk fell to the floor with a sodden thud.

Then his scar flared again and a voice snapped, "Expelliarmus!" Harrys' wand was wrenched from his hand to land at the feet of a tall figure robed in green and silver.

"Hello, Tom," Harry said coolly, "been a while. Last time I saw you we were burying you in an unmarked grave."

"Of course." Voldemort replied equally calmly. "I would have done the same for you, Harry. There is nothing to be gained in making a place of pilgrimage for ones' enemies."

"Just out of interest," Harry asked, "how did you get here?"

"I have no idea." Voldemort shrugged. "The Master told me I was found unconscious in the woods nearby. The last thing I remember from before was the Killing Curse rebounding on me as you reclaimed the Elder Wand. A strange chance, Harry, that you were to become master of that wand. But Severus once told me you were an uncommonly lucky man." He tapped Harry's wand with his toe. "Yet this is not the Elder Wand. You do not use it?"

Harry shook his head. "I put it back where it belongs, in Dumbledores' tomb. When I die, it'll be forgotten. That wand is the one I've always had, the brother of the one you're carrying now."

"You never were the fool Severus and Lucius claimed, were you, Harry?" Voldemort looked regretful. "I should have followed you more closely myself, rather than trusting their word. Had you kept that wand, your life would have been spent fighting to keep it.

"But at least," he indicated Harkonnens' corpse, "you have learned to let muggles die as they should."

Harry gave a short, humourless laugh. "That's not a muggle, it's a monster! I know the kind of man Vladimir Harkonnen was. Sometimes, mercy shouldn't be allowed to interfere with justice."

Throughout the talk, Harry had been moving. Slowly, subtly, gently. Not approaching his adversary, but altering the angle at which they stood to each other. Harry had not lost contact with his friends from the League, he'd spent time with all of them, learning from them. He still didn't like guns, which disappointed Ziva and Dante, but he had learned to use other weapons. Right now, under his right sleeve, there was a throwing knife in a wrist sheath. He had carefully dropped it into his hand, now he considered his options. It would have to be an underarm throw, Voldemort was too skilled and quick on the wand for the more powerful overarm move.

Harrys' arm was a blur. Ziva would have approved the speed of the throw, but she'd have had words to say about the accuracy. Voldemort, every nerve stretched to breaking-point, reacted quicker than Harry had hoped, as well. The knife sliced along his left side, drawing a spurt of blood from a long cut. Voldemort yelled in pain and shock, staggering back.

But Harry had spent years playing chess with Ron. He knew how to think several moves, or potential moves, ahead. He was already in motion as the knife had left his hand and now he slammed into his opponent. It was the classic Body Strike that Duncan had taught him from the pages of Musashi -"Strike with the left shoulder, in the spirit of bouncing the enemy away." Voldemort literally flew back several feet, to land on his back.

Harry scooped up his wand, and as Voldemort scrambled to his feet, he gave him an ironic salute.

"Hello," he said, "my name is Harry Potter. You killed my parents. Prepare to die!"

Voldemort actually smiled as he returned the salute. "Your dialogue is improving, Harry!"

The another voice, a grating, electronic one, broke in.

"Halt! Do not move!"

Both men turned to face the newcomer. It was another Dalek, one of the larger, more powerful ones Harry had seen earlier. But this one was a deep green, and its gunstick was a simple silver rod, with a centimetre of some darker material at the end.

"What is this? What are you?" Voldemort demanded.

"It's a Dalek." Harry told him. "A member of the most dangerous species in the Universe. It's going to kill us both, I'm afraid."

The Spell Enhancer had reappeared on Harry's wand, but neither the Dalek nor Voldemort noticed. For reasons Harry could not fathom, the green Dalek seemed totally intent on his old enemy.

"You will fail, creature." Voldemort stated with all his old cold arrogance. "I am fated by prophecy to die only at the hands of this man!"

The Dalek aimed its odd gunstick at Voldemort and, to Harrys' astonishment, intoned "A-va-da Ked-av-ra!"

The jet of green light struck Voldemort squarely in the chest, and for the second time, Harry saw the Dark Lord fall dead to the floor.

He turned to the Dalek and raised his wand. "I didn't know Daleks could do magic." He said.

"I am the Wiz-ard." The Dalek replied.

"I see." A memory was tugging at Harrys' mind, but he concentrated on the moment at hand. He jerked his head toward the dead Voldemort, trying to make the Dalek look away long enough to cast a curse.

"He always put too much faith in that prophecy." He said.

"The Pro-phe-cy was cor-rect." The Dalek replied.

Shocked, Harry stared directly into the creatures' eye-lens. It was not blue or orange, like others he'd seen, but a vivid, hauntingly familiar, green.

Then the Wizard spun on the spot and disapparated.

For a moment, there was silence, then the sound of ironic applause. Harry turned and saw a tall, dark man standing in the doorway of a large cupboard he hadn't noticed before.

"Bravo!" Said the man. "Quite a performance, and from a masterly cast. I look forward to more developments in this drama."

Harry raised his wand. "You're the Master." He stated.

The Master inclined his head. "A pleasure to meet you, Mr Potter. Please don't brandish that primitive stick at me. Neither of us is aware of the possible consequences of casting a spell at a TimeLord. On the few occasions it has happened before, no-one was left to report.

"As you see, I am quite unarmed, and my hypnotic abilities, though considerable, are less than likely to affect a man who can resist an Imperius Curse.

"Now, it appears my old friend has left this moon, which means I am no longer trapped here. The late and unlamented Baron Harkonnen destroyed my control over the army, which by now will have been defeated by your colleagues, so we have no further quarrel, Mr Potter. For now, at any rate.

"So I will take my leave. Should you see the Doctor again, pray give him my regards."

With that, the Master stepped back into the cupboard. The door closed, and shortly after the cupboard vanished with the familiar whirring sound of a TARDIS engine.

Harry suddenly realised he was mortally tired and hungry and somehow sad. He went over to where Voldemort lay. He retrieved the Dark Lords' wand, placing it on the chest with the long white hands folded over it. Then he sat down cross-legged near the head and spoke, half to himself, half to the dead man.

"I think we'll see you properly buried this time. With a stone. Should it have your birth-name on it? No, just Lord Voldemort, I think. Because you were a great wizard, and in your own way a brave and clever man. You just took a wrong turn back there somewhere. Same could have happened to me, you know.

"The thing is, Tom, you made me what I am. Without you, I'd be the beloved, slightly spoiled, son of James and Lily Potter. I'd get into mischief with my ne'er-do-well godfather and I'd probably be a Quidditch star with an ego as big as Hogwarts Castle. Because of you, I'm a useful member of society, now.

"Life's a funny thing, old friend."

He lapsed into silence, and that was how Titus and Logan found him a little later, quietly sitting vigil over his fallen foe.

They had had their cuts and bruises tended. They had eaten mightily and slept prodigiously. At least, Harry, Kenobi, Sharpe and Logan had slept. The spring in Mira's step indicated that she and Titus might have been otherwise occupied. Similarly, Elric had slipped off after supper in company with a comely widow, while Kratos and Dera both carried marks that gave mute but eloquent testimony to the vigour of intimate relationships, when conducted in the Klingon manner.

Now they watched as the Zarbi, assisted by the Cylons, dismantled the defensive structures.

"Their programming has been completely blanked." Lavok told them, referring to the Cylons. "They simply obey any orders given them at the moment. I may be able to fully reprogram them in time. In which case they will be of great use to our society. Failing that, they can be deactivated."

"What about the Borg?" Mira asked.

The answer came from the towns' chief Medical Officer, a human woman of Native American stock called Dr Hannah Greycloud. "Some of them are catatonic." She said. "Others are violently psychotic. But the majority are beginning to adjust, to retrieve memories of their former lives and individuality.

"Unfortunately, our equipment here is limited. We can remove some of the gross cybernetic implants and replace them with artificial organics or standard bionics. But we can't remove the nannites or reverse the genetic changes. If they ever come within range of an active vinculum again, they'll be reassimilated immediately.

"We could take samples of uncorrupted DNA and grow clones, but they wouldn't be the individuals they had been. I'm thinking of doing that for the catatonic and seriously deranged ones, but not the others."

They needed to stay one more day, certain solemnities had to be carried out. The dead townsfolk, only six, luckily, were buried together, later a monument would be placed over their graves. The remains of Piter de Vries had been cremated already, without ceremony. Now the bodies of the dead pirates, the Crimos and the Cybermen were placed in a common grave at the edge of the forest. Leandros was placed with them: "He chose to live without honour," Titus said grimly, "let him lie without it."

Nearby, two individual graves held the remains of Colonel Traag, who had fought and died with honour and courage, and of Lord Voldemort. The local stonecrafters had promised Elric and Harry that both would have suitable gravestones. Kenobi had slipped into the forest and in a distant glade had cremated Darth Maul on an open pyre in the fashion shared by both Jedi and Sith.

As to the destroyed Daleks, Baron Harkonnen and the bodies of the poor madmen Titus and Logan had been forced to kill, they remained in the Masters' Redoubt. Logan and Titus went back there with some explosives, and collapsed the entire structure, burying the corpses, the vinculum and any other dark secrets the place might hold under tons of rock and earth.

Then it was time to leave. Farewells were cordial, and in some cases tender, but it was clear that the people of Tanelorn wished to return to their peaceful lives. The Autobot, Harvester, in particular, was anxious to get back to work. "He's full of plans," Maki told Sharpe, "to improve yields and variety."

Then they were back in the TARDIS, and a few moments later, they were trooping out into the library at Grimmauld Place.

"Well, finally!" Ginny declared with mock asperity. "Come on before the kids scoff the lot!"

Dalek Control

The Supreme confronted the Wizard. "Both es-caped?"

"Yes." Replied the Wizard. "We were suc-cess-ful."

The Supreme looked to the Eternal. "Con-firm."

"Con-firmed." The yellow Dalek rarely spoke, but when it did, there was no mistaking its authority. "Both Time-Lords are now set on the time-track which will bring the Doc-tor to Ska-ro at the end of the Final War. Da-lek hist-or-y is now safe."

"What of Tan-el-orn?" Asked the Supreme. "The moon moves through many time-streams. Will it pro-duce further threats?"

It was an orange Scientist that answered. "Neg-a-tive. The moon is now is-o-lat-ed from our time-stream. No-thing from there can reach us, and we can-not reach it."

"Then we pro-ceed." The Supreme stated.

Grimmauld Place

In all fairness, it would have taken fifty kids to 'scoff' the spread Ginny and Kreacher had laid on, even if James had, as Ginny insisted, inherited his Uncle Rons' hollow legs.

"In Kreacher's own defence," the old House-elf pointed out, "he did not know whether Master and his friends would have eaten while they were away."

"Also," Ginny added, "we didn't know what you all might like, so we just did everything!"

There was ham, chicken, beef and pork. There were sausage rolls, pork pies, Cornish pasties and Scotch eggs. There were two types of bread. There was tuna and sardines. There was mature Cheddar cheese and hard-boiled eggs. There was every kind of salad fruit and vegetable, numerous pickles, salad cream and mayonnaise. For a good long while, there was no conversation worth mentioning.

By the time the main course had been replaced by a light dessert (just trifle, fruit cake, apple pie, raspberry flan and custard tart), everyone had more to say. Ginny wanted every detail, of course, and the children listened spellbound. Yet at the end, there was one thing Ginny pounced on:

"Harry, you actually quoted The Princess Bride to Voldemort?" She was incredulous.

Harry shrugged. "Could've been worse, luv. I could've said 'Go ahead, make my day'. Or that one Ron's so fond of -'Did you ever dance with the Devil in the pale moonlight'!"

Later, after the children had been packed, reluctantly, off to bed, Titus fetched the box from his TARDIS. Sharpe was given his ruby. "I'd have done it for nothing," he noted, "but this'll make life a lot easier with a babby on the way!"

Kenobi took the lightsabre that had once belonged to his Padawan, Anakin Skywalker, and would in due course be passed to Anakins' son. Elric received the milky Heart of Arioch; "This gem has far too much power." he told them grimly, "There are none in my world, even myself, who can be trusted with it. I sought it only to drown it in the deepest sea."

Kratos was handed the pendant. He stared at it for a moment, then said, "This belonged to my daughter, Calliope." He closed his eyes briefly, then opened them and handed the pendant to Ginny, saying gruffly, "For your daughter. Tell her that the little girl who had it before her was also truly loved." Ginny accepted the trinket with a mute nod and tears in her eyes.

The miniature went to Logan, who gazed at it for a long time. "I know her." He said finally. "I don't know who she is, but I know her. My memory's gone, all but the last few years, and this is old. But I know her."

Harry got the bundle of letters. They all dated from the first year of this life, and were between his parents and Sirius. He had nothing but a few fugitive memories of that time, the letters wouldn't fill the gap, but they would give him something from it.

It was close to midnight when Titus finally got up and indicated it was time to leave. Hands were shaken all round, and the oddly-assorted group filed back into the TARDIS. Shortly after that, Ginny and Harry were alone again.

"They could have come on a Friday," Ginny complained, "you'll be knackered at work tomorrow!"

Titus had just dropped off the last of the group, when a bell rang in the TARDIS. A screen lit up with a series of co-ordinates.

"Looks like we're needed again, Lieutenant!" He said.

They emerged at the top of a bluff, looking down on a scene of fire-split smoke that was clearly a battle. A woman in combat gear, with a mass of curly blonde hair, was waiting for them.

"Finally!" She said. "My, you are a big boy! The Doctor told me you were, but he didn't say just how big! How do you feed him, dear?"

"Constantly." Mira replied. "Who might you be?"

"Oh, just the Doctors' wife!" Replied the woman. "Which I suppose makes me Titus' aunt by marriage."

"The Doctor said he didn't know my father!" Titus protested.

River Song smiled. "Rule Number One," she told him, "the Doctor lies."

Avengers Mansion, New York, New York

Tony Stark wandered into the kitchen, looking for coffee, and was surprised to find Logan there. The taciturn Canadian gestured him to a seat.

"Need to talk to you, Tony."

"What about?" Tony asked.

"Met a friend of yours some years ago." Logan said. "Thing is, he didn't meet me until yesterday!"

"How's that work?" Tony wanted to know, though he had an inkling. "And who's the friend?"

"Guy's English. Six feet, black and green, scar on his forehead, name of Potter. He's a wizard. It happened like this..."

Harry and Logan did some catching up, eventually, at Tony's insistence. Harry also did some research, discovering that Richard Sharpe was actually an ancestor of his, on his mother's side.

Ginny put his adventure to a somewhat more practical use. First, she took care to tell the children about the harsh regime under which Spartans raised their children. Then, when they were being more than usually obstreperous, she would threaten to get Kratos to babysit them. This was a base libel on Kratos who, however surly he might be with adults, was fond of children, but it never failed to have the desired effect.