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. “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 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 sprayshell, 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.