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“You realize there’s one other possibility,” Luke said quietly as they set off across the docking bay. “They may be trying to split us up for some kind of attack.”

Han shook his head. “I don’t think that’s it.”

“I’d still like to keep an eye on your meetings,” Luke persisted. “I should be able to follow your presence from wherever they put us. That way, I can get there right away if you need me.”

“Just my presence, though, right?”

Luke frowned at him. “Of course. I wouldn’t try to read your mind without permission. You know that.”

“Yeah,” Han said. “Sure.”

As it turned out, it wasn’t necessary for Luke to use the Force in order to keep track of the proceedings. Their Iphigini hosts had somehow learned about the restrictions the Diamala had put on his attendance, and by the time Han and Chewbacca began the negotiations they had a monitor line set up between Luke’s suite and the conference room, allowing him to directly watch the meeting.

It took him two hours to realize that the talks were getting nowhere. It was another hour before Han came to the same conclusion. Or at least was willing to admit it out loud.

“They’re crazy,” Han growled, tossing a handful of datacards onto a low center table as he and Chewbacca joined Luke in the suite. “The whole bunch of them. Completely crazy.”

“I wouldn’t say crazy,” Luke told him. “Stiff-faced stubborn, maybe, but not crazy.”

“Thanks,” Han growled. “That’s real helpful.”

Chewbacca rumbled a warning. “I am not losing my temper,” Han informed him stiffly. “I am under perfect control.”

Luke looked at his friend, carefully hiding a smile. It was like the old Han again, the brashly confident smuggler he and Obi-Wan had first met back in the Mos Eisley cantina. Charging cheerfully into unknown situations, and more often than not finding himself up to his neck in trouble. It was nice to know that even as a respectable family man and responsible official of the New Republic, Han hadn’t lost all of the recklessness that had once driven his friends almost as crazy as it had the Imperials. Up to his neck in trouble was where Han functioned best. Perhaps, through sheer habit, it was where he was most comfortable.

“All right,” Han said, dropping into a chair across the table from Luke. “Let’s think this through. There’s got to be a way out.”

“How about trying a third-party approach?” Luke suggested. “Maybe the New Republic could run security for Diamalan freighters when they’re in Ishori systems.”

Chewbacca rumbled the obvious problem. “Yes, I know we don’t have a lot of ships to spare,” Luke said. “But the High Council ought to be able to scrounge up something.”

“Not enough to do any good,” Han said, shaking his head. “The Diamala do an awful lot of shipping, and I don’t think you realize how thin our hardware is spread out there.”

“It would still be cheaper in the long run than whatever it would cost to pull the Diamala and Ishori apart if they start shooting at each other again,” Luke argued.

“Probably,” Han conceded, toying with one of the datacards. “Problem is, I don’t think the Diamala would accept the offer even if we had the ships to spare. I don’t think they’re ready to trust anyone else with their security.”

“Not even the New Republic?” Luke asked.

Han shook his head, his eyes darting surreptitiously to Luke’s face for a moment, then just as quickly shifting away. “No.”

Luke frowned. In that moment he’d caught another flicker of the same troubled mood he’d felt back by the Falcon. “I see.”

“Yeah,” Han said, all brisk business again. “Anybody got any other ideas?”

Luke glanced at Chewbacca, searching for a diplomatic way to say this. But there really wasn’t one. “You know, Han, it’s not too late to bring Leia in on this. We could call Wayland and ask the Noghri to bring her here.”

“No,” Han said firmly.

Chewbacca growled agreement with Luke. “I said no,” Han repeated, glaring at the Wookiee. “We can handle this ourselves.”

There was a trill from the console built into the table. Luke looked at Han, but he was still engaged in a glaring