Allegiance (24 page)

“Let’s see if we can find out,” LaRone said. “Quiller, give them a call and invite them aboard.”

Han was up to his elbows in hyperdrive guts when the invitation came. “I appreciate the offer,” he said as Luke held the headset to his ear. “But we’re kind of busy right now—took a little feed-through damage in that last jolt.”

“Sorry to hear that,” the voice in his ear said. “Need any assistance?”

Han scowled. If the Suwantek’s sensors had been as upgraded as its weapons, odds were they already knew what his hyperdrive was looking like. Not good even at the best of times, and this definitely wasn’t one of those. “No, we can handle it,” he said. “Just going to take a little time.”

“Understood,” the other said. “But I believe you expressed some interest in speaking to the pirates. We have two prisoners, but we also have limited time to spend in this system. If you’re interested, you need to come over now.”

Han looked at Luke. The other shrugged, but nodded. “Fine—we’ll be right over,” Han said. “You have a transfer tunnel that can lock with any of our hatches?”

“Even better—our ventral hatch has a universal collar,” the other said. “We’ll come up over you and lock to your upper hatch.”

Han had already noted that the voice that had spoken to him had sounded military. Now, as he and Luke climbed the ladder from the Suwantek’s lower hatch, he found that the two men waiting for them looked every bit as military as they had sounded.

“Welcome aboard,” one of them said as Luke finished the climb and stepped to Han’s side.

“Thanks,” Han said, looking around. They were in a relatively wide corridor with six doors on either side and one in the forward bulkhead directly behind their two hosts. Crew cabins along the sides, probably, and either the bridge or a crew lounge forward. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw that the corridor widened briefly toward twin escape pod berths, then narrowed again to doors leading to cargo bays and engineering. “Nice ship.”

“Thanks,” the first man said. “My name’s LaRone. This is Grave.”

“Solo,” Han introduced himself, feeling a twinge as he did so. There were any number of ways, legit and otherwise, for someone to check up on his identity, and lying about it would just make him look more suspicious. Besides, aside from the thing with Jabba and a couple of other minor problems, he wasn’t in any particular trouble with anyone at the moment. At least, not if you didn’t count that whole Death Star thing, which nobody could prove. “This is Luke.”

LaRone nodded a greeting. “Who do you fly for?”

“We’re independents,” Han told him. “Pick up cargo where we can.”

“Anyone else aboard your ship?”

“My first mate, Chewbacca,” Han said.

“That’s the Wookiee you saw on Drunost,” Luke added.

Han threw the kid a warning look. But LaRone merely smiled. “Good—you remember us,” he said. “We certainly remember
you.
” He gestured toward the lightsaber hanging from Luke’s belt. “You actually know how to use that thing?”

“A little,” Luke said. “I’m still learning.”

“Where’d you get it?”

“He stole it from a guy named Tooni,” Han said impatiently. “What do you care where he got it from? You said we could talk to your prisoners?”

“In a minute,” LaRone said. “First, I’d like to know what you were doing in that tapcafe in Conso City.”

Han shrugged. “Having a quiet drink.”

“Who was the fourth person at the table?”

“A friend,” Luke said.

“One of the locals,” Han put in before Luke could say anything else. “Is there some problem with him?”

“Could be,” LaRone said. “Let me lay it out for you. You were on Drunost when a raider attack went down. The man you were sitting with had also been present at another attack a few days earlier, that one by a swoop gang. And now we find you here at Purnham at the scene of yet
another
attack.”

“We’re just doing a friend a favor,” Han said, feeling sweat gathering under his collar. There were several directions LaRone could be going with this conversation, none of them good. “He told us a friend of his was having trouble with pirates on the Purnham run. We weren’t especially busy, so we said we’d see if we could clear ’em out for him.”

“We appreciate your help on that, by the way,” Luke added.

“You’re welcome,” LaRone said. “We don’t like pirates much, either. Can you tell us why this friend of yours was also present at both Drunost attacks?”

“For one thing, that’s where he lives,” Han said. “Besides, the hard part these days is
avoiding
trouble like that. The locals don’t have the resources to chase down these raiders, and the Imperials seem to have dropped out of the fight completely.”

“So you’re saying it was pure coincidence?”

“Not entirely,” Luke said.

Han twisted his head around, forcing back a curse. What was the kid
doing
? “Luke—”

“Explain,” LaRone said, his eyes still on Han.

Luke flashed Han a slightly guilty look. But his voice was firm enough. “There’s a pirate gang working this sector called the BloodScars,” he said. “We understand they’re trying to make deals with all the other local pirates and raiders.”

“You have any basis for that besides rumors?” LaRone asked.

“The swoop gang you mentioned had shoulder patches with the BloodScar emblem,” Luke said. “When we heard about the pirates here at Purnham, we thought we might be able to find out from them what the BloodScars are up to.”

“Why do you care what a gang of pirates is doing?” Grave asked.

“Why do you think?” Han countered. “So we can figure out how to avoid them.”

“Not because you want to join them?” LaRone countered, his voice suddenly sharp.

“No, we want to avoid them,” Han repeated, a terrible thought icing its way through him. Up to now he’d been assuming LaRone was connected to Purnham law
enforcement somehow, possibly a mercenary hired by the locals. But what if he was with the BloodScars? “But you guys seem to be on top of it,” he added, taking a casual half step back toward the ladder. “Like Luke said, thanks for the help.”

“What’s your hurry?” LaRone asked. “I thought you wanted to talk to our prisoners.”

“No, that’s okay,” Han said, taking another step toward the open hatch. Neither LaRone nor Grave seemed to be armed; if he could get Luke clued in on this, they might be able to duck down the ladder to the lower hatch before the rest of the Suwantek’s crew could react.

Only Luke seemed to have missed the cue completely. He was still standing there, his head cocked a little to the side like he was listening to voices in his brain.

“I think you ought to hear what they have to say,” LaRone persisted. He and Grave hadn’t moved, either. Was Han the only one who was picking up on trouble here? He took another half step—

And then, abruptly, Luke’s hand snaked out to grab his left arm. “It’s all right, Han,” he said, staring at LaRone. “They’re not with the BloodScars.”

“Who said they were?” Han protested, stifling another curse. That tore it. Swinging his left arm in a wide movement designed to shake off Luke’s hand and simultaneously draw LaRone’s and Grave’s eyes in that direction, he dropped his right hand to his side—

“Don’t,” a voice advised from behind him.

Han froze, his hand bare centimeters from his blaster, and looked carefully over his shoulder.

Two men stood there, cut from the same ex-military cloth as LaRone and Grave, their blasters leveled at him and Luke.

And Han hadn’t even heard any of the doors open. These guys were smooth, all right. “Okay,” he said as
calmly as he could as he turned back to LaRone. “Now what?”

“That depends,” LaRone said, stepping forward and relieving Han of his blaster. With only a slight hesitation, he took Luke’s lightsaber, as well. “Let’s start with exactly who—and what—you and your friends are.”

“Like I said, we’re independent shippers,” Han told him.

“With dual quad lasers on your ship?” LaRone asked pointedly. “Try again.”

“We need those for protection.”

“I’m sure you do,” LaRone said. “Tell me, if we searched your holds right now, would we find anything that shouldn’t be there?”

“Absolutely not,” Han assured him. For a change, it was even true. “We’re not smugglers.”

“Of course not,” LaRone said. “Back to the BloodScars. 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 assume 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 interruption. “Only instead of just avoiding the BloodScars,
we want to wipe them out.” Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out an official-looking identity 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 noble fervor once, back before the Empire’s basic fundamental cruelty had finally gotten through to him.

And it was a righteous passion 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 Casement’s comm frequency. “Casement, it’s Solo.”

“About time,” Casement’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,” Casement 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,” Casement 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,” Casement 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,” Casement 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,” Casement said. “And thanks for your help. You
and
your new friends.”