Part 3 (1/2)

”There wasn't anything on the Corsairs,” Luke said. ”I didn't get close enough to the others to see. Why? You think they might not have been pirates?”

”Oh, they were pirates, all right,” Han said. ”Problem is, most pirates like to splash blazing claws or fireb.a.l.l.s all over their s.h.i.+ps. Try to scare the target into giving up without a fight. Usually the only reason they'd cover down is if they were working for someone else.”

Luke looked out his canopy at the lights of the rest of the freighters around them, slowly and gingerly settling back into a normal traffic pattern again. A hundred exotic cargoes, from a hundred different worlds . . . and yet the pirates had chosen to hit a pair of New Republic transports. Privateers, then,” he said. ”Hired by the Empire.”

”I'd say that's a good bet,” Han agreed grimly. ”I wonder which gang they were.”

”Or where the Empire's getting the funds to hire them,” Luke said slowly. Stretching out with the Force, he brought back the memory of the odd sensation he'd picked up from the battlecruiser. ”I remember Leia telling me what privateers cost, back when the Alliance was hiring them to hit Imperial s.h.i.+pping. They don't come cheap.”

”Not good ones, anyway.” Han snorted. ”Not that this batch was anything special.”

”I'm not so sure,” Luke said, focusing his full attention on the memories. It was indeed something he'd felt before. . .

And then it clicked into place. ”I may be wrong, Han,” he said, ”but I think there was a group of clones aboard that battlecruiser.”

For a long moment the comm was silent. ”You sure?”

”The sense was the same one I got when we were chasing Grand Admiral Thrawn's clone warriors around the Katana.”

Han hissed thoughtfully into the comm. ”Terrific. I wonder where the Empire's been hiding clones for the past ten years. I thought they'd pretty much thrown all of them at us already.”

”I thought so, too,” Luke said. ”Maybe they've got a new cloning facility going.”

”Oh, that's a cheerful thought,” Han grumbled. ”Look, let's take care of one crisis at a time. We'll finish up here and then turn Intelligence loose on it.”

”I was under the impression that Intelligence wasn't having much luck pinning down these gangs.”

”They're not,” Han admitted. ”Neither are my contacts with the Independent s.h.i.+ppers.”

”Sounds like we need someone better connected with the fringe.” Luke hesitated. ”Someone like Talon Karrde, for example.”

There was a brief silence from the other end. ”You didn't say that like you meant it,” Han suggested. ”Trouble?”

”No, not really,” Luke said, wis.h.i.+ng now he'd kept quiet. ”It's just-no, nothing.”

”Let me guess. Mara?”

Luke grimaced. ”It's nothing, Han. Okay? Just let it go.”

”Sure,” Han a.s.sured him. ”No problem. Soon as we finish up here, you can go on back to Yavin and forget about it. Chewie and me can get word to Karrde. Okay?”

”Okay,” Luke said. ”Thanks.”

”No problem. Let's go talk to the Diamala some more. See if any of this might have changed their att.i.tude toward New Republic protection.”

”We can try.” Luke hesitated. ”Han, what is it about me the Diamala don't like? I really need to know.”

There was a short pause. ”Well, to put it in a spraysh.e.l.l, they don't trust you.”

”Why not?”

”Because you're too powerful,” Han said. ”At least, according to them. They claim that Jedi who use as much power as you do always end up slipping over to the dark side.”

An unpleasant sensation settled into the pit of Luke's stomach. ”You think they're right?”

he asked.

”Hey, Luke, I don't know about any of that stuff,” the other protested. ”I've seen you do some pretty wild things, and I'll admit it sometimes worries me a little. But if you say you've got it under control, hey, that's good enough for me. You sure weren't getting all flashy out here just now.”

”No, I wasn't,” Luke agreed, a little defensively. Because Han was right; he bad indeed gotten a little flashy at other times in the past. Many times, in fact.

But only when it was necessary, and only to accomplish some great and n.o.ble goal. His power in the Force had saved his life numerous times, and Han's life, and the lives of countless others. In none of those instances had he had any other choice.

And yet. . .

Luke stared out the canopy at the distant stars. And yet there was Obi-Wan Ken.o.bi, his first teacher in the Force. A powerful Jedi, who'd nevertheless allowed himself to be cut down on the first Death Star rather than sweep Vader and the stormtroopers away with a wave of his, hand.

And there was Yoda, who had surely had as deep an understanding of the Force as anyone in recent history. If Luke's own current level of knowledge was any indication, Yoda could surely have defeated the Emperor all by himself. Yet he'd chosen instead to leave that task to Luke and the Rebel Alliance.

And there was Callista. A woman he'd loved . . . who had run away from him because his power had somehow intimidated and frightened her.

”Look, Luke, it might not mean anything,” Han's voice came into his thoughts. ”You know how alien minds work sometimes.”

”Yes,” Luke murmured. But it was clearly not something to be dismissed out of hand. It was a question he needed to study, and to meditate on, and to discuss with his family and closest friends.

He shuddered, that horrifying vision of a laughing Emperor flickering across his memory.

And he'd better do it fast.

But as Han had said, one crisis at a time. Pulling up the X-wing's nose, he eased into escort formation beside the transports and headed in.

CHAPTER 3.

For a long moment Leia Organa Solo just stood there, the restless breezes of the Wayland forest rustling through her hair, staring at the gold-colored protocol droid twitching nervously in front of her. There were, she reflected distantly, very few things in the galaxy anymore that could shock her speechless. Han Solo, her husband and father of her three children, was apparently still one of them. ”He did what? ”

It was a rhetorical question, of course. Possibly a way of confirming to herself that her voice still functioned. C-3P0 either didn't realize that or else didn't want to risk guessing wrong. ”He and Chewbacca have gone to Iphigin, Your Highness,” the droid repeated, his voice miserable. ”Several hours ago, shortly after you left on your tour. I tried to stop them, but he wouldn't listen. Please don't deactivate me.”

Leia took a careful breath, stretching out to the Force to calm herself-apparently, she looked angrier than she actually was-and tried to think. Han would be on Iphigin by now, probably already engaged in a dialogue with the Diamalan and Ishori delegations. She could have her honor guard fly her there in one of their s.h.i.+ps, calling ahead and telling Han to declare a recess until she arrived. The children she could leave here; the rest of the Noghri could look after them until she and Han returned. Alter natively, she could get in touch with President Gavrisom and have him send someone else out there to take over. But either approach would make Han's effort an obvious and embarra.s.sing false start, hardly the sort of thing that would bolster the already low opinion the Diamala had of New Republic capabilities. In fact, depending on how seriously the Diamala chose to take it, it could easily make things worse than if she just left Han alone.

Besides, he was a hero of the Rebellion, and both the Diamala and Ishori appreciated that sort of thing. And after years of watching her handle this sort of negotiation, he must surely have picked up a trick or two.

”Oh-one other thing,” Threepio spoke up hesitantly. ”Captain Solo also made one other call before he and Chewbacca left. I believe it was to Master Luke.”

Leia smiled wryly, her first real smile since Threepio had broken the news. She should have guessed that Han hadn't just rushed in on this thing alone. He'd conned Luke into going with him.

Threepio was still standing there looking nervous. ”It's all right, Threepio,” she soothed him. ”Once Han gets an idea in his head, there's no stopping him. He and Luke should be able to handle things.”