by Timothy Zahn
Chewbacca growled acknowledgment, and a more complete Iphigin schematic appeared over the table. Han peered at it, then looked down at the datapad in his hand. “Great. Okay, come here and give me a hand with this.”
“What is it?” Luke asked.
“This is the ground station list and the orbit data for their Golan I Defense Platform,” Han told him, waving the datapad as Chewbacca lumbered to his side again. “Let’s see …”
For a minute the two huddled close together, peering alternately at the hologram and Han’s datapad and conversing in low tones. Luke studied the schematic, watching the color-coded freighters and other ships moving in and out and wondering what this was all about.
“Okay,” Han said at last. “That’s where they’ll come in. So all we need to do is sit somewhere in the middle of that cone and wait. Great. Get down to the Falcon and get ’er ready. I’ll be right there.”
Chewbacca rumbled an acknowledgment and headed out the door at a fast Wookiee trot. “Do I get to know what’s going on?” Luke asked.
“Sure,” Han said, gathering up the datacards and packing them away again. “We’ve got pirates on the way.”
“Pirates?” Luke blinked. “Here?”
“Sure. Why not?”
“I didn’t think pirate gangs operated this far into the Core, that’s all,” Luke said. “So the Sarkan is just a feint?”
“Yeah,” Han said, getting to his feet. “Only he doesn’t know it. It’s an old trick: you call an alert on some ship coming in sunside, then hit a nightside target while Customs is busy half a planet away. The only tricky part is making sure the ground and orbit defenses can’t get to you. Plus figuring out how to fake the alert in the first place. Come on, let’s go.”
“Shouldn’t we alert the Iphigini first?” Luke asked, reaching for the comm.
“What for?” Han said. “You and Chewie and me ought to be able to handle it.”
“What, a whole pirate gang?”
“Sure, why not? The only gangs working this sector are small ones—two or three ships, tops.” Han’s lip twitched. “Actually, you probably won’t even need us.”
“I appreciate your confidence,” Luke said icily. “But I’d just as soon not take them all on myself, thank you.”
Han held up his hands. “Hey. No offense.”
“None taken.” Luke gestured to the hologram and the patrol ships weaving their net around the incoming Sarkan freighter. “And I still think we ought to call in the Iphigini.”
“We can’t,” Han said. “The pirates probably have a spotter already here. Any sign of an alert, and they’ll just call off the raid. We’d end up looking stupid, and Diamalan opinion of the New Republic would sink a little deeper. The High Council will have my hide if that happens.”
Luke sighed. “Things were a lot easier when Alliance military activity wasn’t always getting tangled up in politics.”
“Tell me about it,” Han growled. “Look, we’ve got to get going. You in or out?”
Luke shrugged. “I’m in,” he said, pulling out his comlink. “Artoo?”
• • •
R2-D2 didn’t like it. Not a bit. The words scrolling across the X-wing’s computer display made that very clear indeed.
“Oh, come on, Artoo,” Luke chided. “We went all the way through a war together, against the most powerful military machine the galaxy has ever seen. You’re not going to tell me you’re afraid of a couple of patched-up pirate ships, are you?”
The droid grunted indignantly. “That’s better,” Luke said approvingly. “Just keep an eye out. We’ll be fine.”
Artoo warbled again, clearly not convinced, and went silent. Luke peered out the X-wing’s canopy, trying to shake away his own collection of nagging doubts. The odd discomfort that kept surfacing in Han’s emotions—the unexplained Diamalan refusal to allow him at the negotiations—all of it just added to the strange restlessness that had been simmering and growing in him over the past few weeks.
He’d talked to Leia twice about it, hoping her insight and experience could help him bring the vague glimmerings into sharper focus. But the best she’d been able to do was suggest that it was some kind of subconscious prodding from the Force itself. Something Luke was supposed to do, she hypothesized, or perhaps something he wasn’t supposed to do.
At her urging, he’d been spending more time lately in meditation, hoping that immersing himself in the Force would help. So far, though, there had been no results.
“Luke?” Han’s voice said into his helmet. “Where are you?”
Luke shook his thoughts back to the task at hand. “I’m above you and a little to portside,” he said. “I don’t see anything out here that looks like a pirate ship. You?”
“Not yet,” Han said. “Don’t worry; when they get here, you’ll know it.”
“Right.” Turning his head slowly, Luke looked around at the drive glows and running lights of the various freighters.
And then suddenly they were there.
Only it wasn’t just two or three ships. Dropping in from lightspeed were no fewer than eight ships, all unmarked, all bristling with turbolaser batteries.
Behind Luke came a startled shrill. “Easy, Artoo,” Luke soothed the droid. “Give me a readout on them.”
Artoo beeped uncertainly, and a list appeared on Luke’s sensor scope. Two mangled-looking Corellian gunships, an old but impressively big Kaloth battlecruiser with an equally old KDY a-4 ion cannon welded awkwardly to its bow, and five Corsair-class assault starfighters. The whole group of them were in encirclement formation, closing on a pair of medium transports a few kilometers below and ahead.
Transports bearing New Republic insignia.
“Han?” Luke called.
“Yeah, I see them,” Han said tightly. “Okay. What do you want to do?”
Luke looked out at the incoming pirates, a sudden tightening sensation in his stomach. There were many options, of course. He could reach out with the Force and damage the ships’ control surfaces, crippling them. He might even be able to wrench off whole hull plates or deform the weapons emplacements, tearing them apart with the Force alone. Or he could simply reach inside to the crews’ minds, turning them into helpless observers or even forcing them to surrender. For a Jedi Master with the Force as his ally, there were no limits. No limits at all.
And then, abruptly, he stiffened, his breath seeming to freeze in his throat. There in front of him, starkly visible against the blackness of space, he could see the faint images of Emperor Palpatine and Exar Kun, two of the greatest focal points of the dark side he’d ever had to face. They were standing there before him, gazing back at him.
And laughing.
“Luke?”
Han’s voice made him start; and as he did so, the images vanished. But the icy horror stayed behind. Something he wasn’t supposed to do …
“Luke? Hey, look alive, pal.”
“I’m here,” Luke managed. His mouth, he discovered, was suddenly very dry. “I—you’d better take charge, Han.”
“You all right? Can you fly?”
Luke swallowed. “Yes. I’m fine.”
“Sure,” Han said, obviously not convinced. “Look, you’d better hang back. Chewie and me’ll handle this.”
“No,” Luke said. “No, I’m with you. Just tell me what you want me to do.”
“Well, if you’re sure you’re up to it, you can run me some cover,” Han said. “First thing is to take out that ion cannon.”
Luke took a deep breath, settling his mind and stretching out to the Force. Two ships against eight. It was like the old days, when the Rebel Alliance was struggling against the awesome power of the Empire. He hadn’t been nearly as strong in the Force then. Hardly strong enough, in fact, to enhance his natural combat and flying abilities.
And yet, somehow, the memories of those days felt strangely clean. Cleaner than his mind had felt for a long time.
Something he wasn’t supposed to do …
>
All right, he told the memories. Let’s call this a test. “Go ahead,” he told Han. “I’m right behind you.”
It was unclear in that first minute whether the pirates, concentrating on their intended prey, had even noticed the old YT-1300 freighter and the X-wing flying alongside it. It was abundantly clear, though, that a sudden attack from outside their encirclement ring was the last thing they were expecting. The Falcon shot between two of the Corsairs without drawing any fire at all until it was well past them. They got a single ineffective turbolaser salvo off before Luke slid in behind them, dropping a proton torpedo each into their drive sections. A brilliant double flash, and they were effectively out of the fight.
The X-wing shot between them, curving up out of the crippled ships’ line of fire. The battlecruiser was starting to turn its turrets toward them—
There was a sudden warning squeal from behind him. “I see them, Artoo,” Luke said, throwing the X-wing into a stomach-twisting spiral out and away from the battlecruiser just as two of the three remaining Corsairs shot past. A burst of light caught the edge of his eye as he turned, and he twisted back around to see the bow of the battlecruiser flash into shrapnel. “Han? You okay?”
“Sure,” Han’s voice came back. “I got the ion cannon, but it got a shot off at one of the transports first. Don’t know if they’re disabled or not. You?”
“No problems yet,” Luke said. His danger sense flickered, and he dropped the X-wing into another twist as a withering pattern of laser fire cut through the spot he’d just vacated. Swinging up and around, he settled in behind one of the attacking Corsairs. It was a long time since he’d done this kind of thing on any sort of regular basis, but he didn’t seem nearly as rusty as he’d feared he would be. “These things are better armored than TIE fighters, but they’re not nearly as maneuverable.”
The words were barely out of his mouth when he nearly had to eat them. Abruptly the Corsair in front of him cut sharply to starboard, twisting out of Luke’s line of fire and trying to swing in behind him. Clenching his teeth, Luke matched the maneuver, and for a few seconds they chased each other around in a tight circle, each trying for a clear shot. Luke won by a single heartbeat, and the Corsair flashed into flame and debris.
From his comm came an anxious Wookiee snarl. “I’m okay, Chewie,” Luke said, stretching out to the Force for calm. That one had been a little too close. “You two still all right?”
“So far,” Han put in. “Watch it—they’re probably getting mad now.”
Luke smiled lopsidedly and took a quick look around. The last two Corsairs were heading full-throttle toward him, but he had a few seconds yet before he had to do anything about them. In the near distance he could see the battlecruiser, firing furiously at the much smaller Falcon skimming like a stingfly across its hull, systematically taking out turbolaser emplacements as it went. To one side, the two gunships were exchanging fire with the New Republic transports, which were clearly better armed than they had first appeared. The rest of the freighter traffic around them was understandably vacating the area just as fast as they could.
He frowned, focusing again on the battlecruiser. With his decision to back away from using the full power of the Force against the pirates much of the confusion and tension in his mind seemed to have cleared away.
And now, in that silence, he could sense something strange about the big ship out there. A strangeness he hadn’t felt for a long time …
Artoo shrilled a warning. “Right,” Luke said, shaking the feeling away. The two Corsairs were coming in fast, the wingman to portside and slightly behind the leader. “Here’s the plan,” he told the droid. “On my signal, run full power to the top starboard engine and to both portside braking vents. After four seconds cut the vents and throw half power to all engines. Got it?”
The droid whistled acknowledgment. Resting his thumbs on the proton torpedo triggers, Luke watched the Corsairs streaking toward him, stretching out through the Force to touch the minds of the two crews. Not to control or twist, but merely watching the texture of their thoughts. Holding course, he waited … “Now,” he called to Artoo.
The droid’s warble was swallowed up by the sudden roar of the drive; and a second later the X-wing was spinning wildly around its center of mass. Eyes half-closed, Luke let the Force guide the timing of his shot—
And then he was jammed back into his seat as the X-wing took off on a new trajectory, straightening reluctantly out of its spin. Blinking against his sudden dizziness, Luke looked around for the Corsairs.
The gambit had worked. Concentrating on his Gandder’s spin, trying to anticipate the direction he would take when he popped out of it, they’d probably never even noticed the incoming proton torpedoes until it was too late.
“Luke?” Han’s voice came over the comm. “Looks like they’re pulling out.”
Sternly addressing his rebellious inner ear, Luke brought the X-wing around again. The battlecruiser was driving for deep space, the two gunships right behind it. One of the gunships, he noted, was showing considerable damage. “Artoo, give me a damage assessment,” Luke said, switching his comm control to one of the official New Republic frequencies. “Transports, this is New Republic X-wing AA-589,” he said. “What’s your situation?”
“Looking a lot better than it was a few minutes ago,” the reply came back promptly. “Thanks for the assist, X-wing. You or your friend need any help?”
Artoo’s damage assessment came up on the computer screen. “No, I’m fine,” Luke said. “Han?”
“No problems here,” Han said. “We’ll give you an escort down if you want.”
“Sounds good to me,” the transport captain said. “Thanks again.”
The transports turned back toward Iphigin. Swinging the X-wing toward their vector, Luke switched back to the private frequency. “Just like old times,” he said wryly to Han.
“Yeah,” Han said, his voice sounding distracted. “You catch any insignia or markings on any of those ships?”
“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 fireballs all over their ships. 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 shipping. 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. “Ma
ybe 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 Shippers.”
“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, wishing 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 assured 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 attitude 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 sprey-shell … 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.”
