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Han shook his head. “That’s crazy.”

“I know. I can’t account for it, except …” she hesitated. “If I tell you, you’ll think I’m losing it.”

“What? Tell me.”

She took a deep breath. “They say the Emperor has … abilities. That he can influence people to do things. Some kind of mental influence.”

“Like mind-reading?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “Maybe. I know it sounds impossible, but that’s the only explanation I can come up with that makes sense. Shild was popular and ambitious and corrupt, and he posed a threat to the consolidation of power. So the Emperor just … encouraged … Shild’s ambition until he destroyed himself with that assault on Nal Hutta.”

Han frowned. “What about Greelanx? How did he figure into the plan? And who killed him? I kept expecting them to pin it on me, but they just hushed it up. I never heard anything about it on the news.” Han repressed a shudder at the memory of standing in that locked room next to Greelanx’s office and listening to that loud, uncanny breathing, that heavy, ominous tread.…

Bria leaned forward, and, unconsciously, Han did too. Her voice dropped to a whisper, a bare thread of sound. “They say it was … Vader.”

Han was whispering too. “Vader? You mean Darth Vader?”

She nodded. “Darth Vader. He’s the Emperors …” She hesitated, searching for a term. “ … enforcer.”

Han sat back. He’d heard of the guy, but he’d never encountered him. “Huh,” he said. “Well, I’m just glad they didn’t try and finger yours truly.”

Bria nodded. “Rebel intelligence later discovered that Admiral Greelanx was under Imperial orders to make the attack fail. The Hutt bribe was incidental. My guess is that it was all a set-up from the beginning, part of an Imperial plan to discredit and eliminate Shild. And to hurt Desilijic and the smugglers. You’ll notice that Besadii, who supplies the Empire with slaves, wasn’t affected.”

Han thought it over. “It still sounds crazy, but you do hear things about the Emperor. Spooky things. I always just dismissed them as people bein’ hysterical.” He laughed shortly and took a swig of his ale. “Pretty scary … if it’s true.”

She shrugged. “Neither of us will probably ever know. But this is ancient history, now. Not what I came to talk to you about. Han, I—”

Bria’s low-voiced conversation broke off as a couple of smugglers slid into the booth opposite theirs. Han looked around. “Place is filling up,” he said. “Want to get outta here?”

She nodded. Han followed her out onto the street, and they walked briskly, without talking, until they were on a quieter side street. The glidewalk was broken, and there were few sentients around. Han looked at her. “You were saying?”

She looked over at him. “Han, I need your help.”

He recalled what Jabba had told him. “With the assault on Ylesia?”

She nodded and smiled. “Quick as ever. Yes. Jabba’s bankrolling us. We’re going to take the whole planet, Han.”

Now it was Han’s turn to shrug. “Not my problem, sister. I’ve changed, too. I ain’t in the charity business. I only play for profit, these days. I don’t stick my neck out for anyone.”

She nodded. “So I hear. I’m not asking for charity. It’s profit I’m talking about. More credits than you’d make on a hundred smuggling runs.”

“What do you want from me, then?” Han realized that his anger at her was building, though he wasn’t quite sure why. It was almost as though he’d have been happier if she had asked him to help her for old times’ sake, or something. But that didn’t make any sense.

“The Rebel Alliance is still very new, Han,” she said. “Our people have guts and loyalty, but most of them aren’t seasoned fighters. My own Red Hand Squadron has experience, but we can’t handle this job all by ourselves.”

Han stared at her in surprise and more than a little unease. “Red Hand Squadron? You command Red Hand Squadron?”

She nodded. “It’s a good group. We’ve seen some action.”

“I’ve heard of it,” Han said. “I’ve heard you give no quarter to slavers.”

She shrugged and didn’t answer. “Anyway, as I was saying, the Resistance needs help to get us down through the Ylesian atmosphere.