"Of course not," LaRone said. "Back to the Blood-Scars. You genuinely think they're trying to create their own little copy of the Rebel Alliance here in Shelsha sector?"

"I'd call it more like a Hutt pyramid," Han said, a small part of his mind wondering why he found LaRone's comparison so irritating. Certainly that was what the Rebel Alliance was, when you boiled it down: a big illegal group of lots of other illegal groups. "But yeah, I think they could be trying something like that."

"Good," LaRone said. "Because that's exactly what they are doing. Our prisoners say an agent from the BloodScars came by only a week ago pressuring them to join up. He's supposed to return soon for their answer."

Han frowned as it suddenly hit him. "And you think one of us is the agent?"

"The thought had crossed our minds," LaRone said. "Rather ironically, since I gather you were wondering the same thing about us."

"Well, we're not," Han said firmly.

"Can you prove that?"

"We helped you blow away these other pirates, Han reminded him. "Not the sort of thing recruiters usually do."

"Maybe the Purnham group had already turned down the BloodScars' invitation," LaRone pointed out.

"Our prisoners say their chief was leaning that way. In that case, you might have been sent to create an object lesson."

"Or maybe he didn't turn him down," Han said. "In that case, we just have to sit here until they send someone back here for his answer."

"What, wait another week?" LaRone shook his head. "We can't afford to sit around here that long."

"Maybe there's another way," Luke spoke up.

LaRone eyed him. "We're listening."

"If they did turn down the BloodScars, they probably did it through the HoloNet," Luke said. "If they did, and if we can get the local station's call log, the contact may still be in there."

Han winced. A call log was useless in itself-all it would show was all the planets that had been called in a given time frame, and even a world as small as Purnham put out a lot of HoloNet traffic. There was no reason for Luke to even bring it up unless he had something else to add to the mix.

"Let's a.s.sume we can get the log," LaRone said, a note of fresh interest in his voice. He'd probably tracked through the logic the same way Han had. "Then what?"

"Then we-"

"What's your interest in all this?" Han cut him off. He was pretty sure he knew what Luke had in mind, and there was no way he was going to give that up. Not until he knew what side LaRone and his friends were on.

"The same as yours," LaRone said, frowning at the a interruption. "Only instead of just avoiding the BloodScars, we want to wipe them out."

Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out an official-looking ident.i.ty tag. "We're with Consolidated Shipping Security."

"Oh," Han said, the hairs on the back of his neck starting to tingle.

"Well. I guess you're all right, then." "I told you they were," Luke murmured. Han grimaced. Yes, the kid had said that, all right. Problem was, the kid was wrong. "But I believe you were starting to say something?" Grave said, raising his eyebrows at Luke.

"Not really," Han said, giving Luke a warning glance. "He sometimes pops off his mouth before he thinks things through." "Enough," LaRone snapped.

Han jerked at the sudden flash of fury, his hand dropping automatically to his empty holster.

"No more games," LaRone bit out. "These pirates are a threat to the entire sector. If you have information about them, let's have it. Now."

Han gazed at him, the bitter taste of distant memory welling up on the back of his tongue. He'd had that same n.o.ble fervor once, back before the Empire's basic fundamental cruelty had finally gotten through to him.

And it was a righteous pa.s.sion no pirate or raider could ever counterfeit. Whoever these men were, they weren't with the BloodScars.

"Let me use your comm a minute."

LaRone studied his face. "In here," he said, stepping to one side and gesturing to the door behind him.

Beyond the door, as Han had guessed, was a crew lounge. "We can patch you through the intercom," LaRone said, pointing to an entertainment computer desk. "Quiller?"

"Who do you want to talk to?" a voice asked from the speaker.

"Our friend in the freighter out there," Han said, sitting down at the computer. A keyboard lit up, and he punched in Cas.e.m.e.nt's comm frequency.

"Cas.e.m.e.nt, it's Solo."

"About time," Cas.e.m.e.nt's voice growled. "Are you all right? Chewbacca said you'd gone aboard the Suwantek-"

"We're fine," Han interrupted. "Porter said you had a brush with the BloodScars off Ashkas-kov a couple months ago. Did you get their vector when they left?"

"Yes," Cas.e.m.e.nt said, sounding puzzled. "But there's no reason to think they were going anywhere in particular."

"I'm betting they were headed home," Han said. "Porter told us everyone was dead except you, and they thought you were, too. No reason for them to hide where they were going."

"I suppose," Cas.e.m.e.nt said. "You want me to send you the vector?"

"If you haven't got anything better to do," Han said, trying hard not to be sarcastic. These Rebel types could be ridiculously slow sometimes.

"Sure," Cas.e.m.e.nt growled. "Just let me put down the hook-point scarf I was working on."

Han rolled his eyes. Slow and snippy. "Anytime."

"Here it comes," Cas.e.m.e.nt said.

"Got it," Quiller's voice confirmed.

Han looked at LaRone. "Now what?"

LaRone looked at Grave. "Tell him he can go, with our thanks."

"Our new friends say you can take off," Han relayed. "Good flying."

"You, too," Cas.e.m.e.nt said. "And thanks for your help. You and your new friends."

There was a soft click as the contact was broken. "There he goes,"

Quiller reported.

"So now all we have to do is. .h.i.t up the HoloNet station and see what kind of messages they sent to systems along that vector," Han said. "That pretty much what you had in mind, Luke?" "Yes," Luke confirmed.

"Let's hope they like Consolidated Shipping people down there," Han added, eyeing LaRone closely.

The other's face didn't even twitch. "Fortunately, we won't have to find out," he said. "As it happens, we already have the Conso City HoloNet records from just after the swooper attack." He smiled faintly. "That's why we were on Drunost. We thought that whatever was left of the gang might have called big brother for help." He gestured to one of the two men who'd played backstop earlier. "Marcross?"

"I'll set up the program," Marcross said, giving Han a speculative look as he brushed past. He went through a door at the forward end of the lounge, and Han caught a glimpse of a c.o.c.kpit anteroom before the door closed again.

"This is Bright.w.a.ter, by the way," LaRone added, gesturing to the remaining man.

"Nice to meet you," Han said. "I guess we'll be off, then. If I could have my blaster back?"

"What's your hurry?" Bright.w.a.ter asked.

"Independent shippers, remember?" Han said. "We've got a schedule to keep."

"What schedule?" Bright.w.a.ter countered. "You haven't got any cargo."

"And you have a damaged hyperdrive," Grave added.

"It's not that damaged," Han said.

"Let's cut to the core," LaRone said. "Bottom line is, we're not sure we want to let you out of our sight just yet."

The hairs on the back of Han's neck were starting to tingle again. "We gave you that vector," he pointed out.

"There could be any number of reasons the BloodScars wouldn't mind us having that," LaRone countered. "It could lead to a base they've already abandoned, or into a trap."

"But don't worry," Grave a.s.sured him. "I think you'll find the-accommodations up to independent shipper standards."

"Great," Han growled. "We're dead." "If you'll call the Wookiee up here, we'll be off," LaRone said. "He's to come unarmed, of course."

"What about our ship?" Han asked, keeping his expression neutral. Unarmed Wookiee-now there was a contradiction in terms. "We can't just leave it here." "Quiller?" LaRone called.

"No problem," the pilot's voice came. "We can lock it to the hatch collar and take it in tow."

"You're kidding," Han said, frowning. "The Falcon's as big as you are."

"It'll work," Quiller a.s.sured him. "Trust me-we've got power to spare."

"Call the Wookiee," LaRone said. "Then we'll show you to your quarters."

The cabin door slid shut on the glowering Wookiee. LaRone double-checked the lock, and then he, Bright-water, and Grave returned to the lounge.

Marcross and Quiller were waiting for them there, Marcross still seated at the computer desk. "They all happily snugged in?" Quiller asked.

"As happily as possible, which isn't very," LaRone told him. "Opinions?"

"There's definitely something off key about them," Bright.w.a.ter said. "I just don't know yet what it is."

"How sure are we they aren't with the BloodScars? Grave asked. "A smart enforcer might have been able to spin that kind of story for us on the fly. Might even have been willing to frost those local pirate ships to throw us off the mark."

"Maybe, but it doesn't explain their work at Conso City," Quiller pointed out. "According to the latest reports, the raiders made off with about fifty thousand in cash, plus a few pa.s.sengers."

"The BloodScars picking up the swoop gang survivors," Bright.w.a.ter murmured.

"With the robbery as a diversion or cover," Quiller said, nodding. "And Solo and his friends were definitely working against them." "Part of a rival gang, then?" Grave suggested.

"Possible," LaRone said. "But they just don't feel like pirates to me."

"You're sure you're not letting that lightsaber influence you?" Grave countered.

LaRone snorted. "Not when the only other person I've ever actually seen carrying one is Lord Vader."

"Interesting you should mention Vader," Marcross said thoughtfully.

"There was a rumor making the rounds awhile back about some special Imperial agent called the Emperor's Hand who's popped up onto the scene.

Reports directly to Palpatine, outranks practically everyone in the Empire-"

"And carries a lightsaber," Bright.w.a.ter said suddenly. "Yeah, I heard that same rumor."

"Rumors being worth half a credit a truckload, of course," LaRone reminded them.

"But it's definitely the sort of thing Palpatine would do," Marcross pointed out. "Look at how he tried to outflank the regular military establishment with the ISB and the Grand Admirals."

"You think Luke might be this Emperor's Hand?" Grave asked doubtfully. "I don't know. He doesn't seem the type, somehow."

"Maybe that's what he wants you to think," Marcross said. There was a beep from the computer, and he swiveled back around. "Got it," he said, peering at the display. "Correlation between Solo's vector and our HoloNet data gives us exactly one system: Gepparin. A few farming settlements, a good-sized mining complex, and not much else."

"Good spot for a pirate hideout," Bright.w.a.ter commented. "How far out is it?"

"About forty hours," Marcross said. He c.o.c.ked an eyebrow at LaRone. "I trust you weren't planning to show our guests our shiny white dress outfits?"

"Not to worry," LaRone said. "As long as they're locked in their cabins, we can come and go as we please."

"Speaking of locking, I hope someone remembered to lock down the armories in those three rooms," Quiller warned.

"I did," Bright.w.a.ter a.s.sured him. "There's a simple sequence in the cabin computers that can lock and unlock them. What about the two kids in the hold?"

"Purnham security's going to take them off our hands," Quiller said.

"Their brig shuttle's on its way now."

"Good," LaRone said. "Quiller, set course for Gepparin. We'll leave as soon as the prisoners are off."