ALL BETS ARE OFF
Chapter One
"That can't possibly end well," Wedge Antilles gestured toward the Millennium Falcon. The battered CEC YT-1300 was docked directly across the hangar from Rogue Squadron's X-wings.
Wes Janson and Hobbie Klivian glanced up from tinkering with their ship's landing gear, tracking Wedge's gaze across the hangar to where Leia Organa, a vision in a white snowsuit and a crown of braided hair, was perched prettily atop a tall crate set near the Falcon's ramp. She was engaged in what seemed to be—to Wedge's surprise—a civil conversation with the ship's captain.
"They've been yapping for more than an hour," Wes observed, coming out from beneath his fighter and scrambling to his feet. "I keep waiting for the explosion."
Captain Han Solo was crouched on one knee across from the princess. The Corellian's features were placid enough, though he became more animated as he spoke, his large hands gesticulating wildly.
"Oh, here it comes," Wedge smirked. "Solo's finger will be shaking in Leia's face in ten, nine, eight…"
True to Wedge's prediction, Han's long index finger stretched out toward the dainty Alderaanian woman—but instead of waggling accusingly, the digit tapped lightly on the tip of Leia's nose.
Wedge heard a collective gasp from the watching Rogues. He knew what they must be thinking, all having witnessed a host of similar exchanges in the past: they expected a fierce response from the princess—and Wedge held his breath in anticipation of the inevitable flaring of her fiery temper.
Instead, to his astonishment, the princess simply threw her head back and laughed. She then hopped down from the crate and responded to the smuggler's touch with a swift—but clearly playful—jab to his ribs before pivoting on her booted heel. As she turned and retreated a few steps, she tossed a smile and a comment over her shoulder—one that Wedge couldn't quite make out, muffled as it was by the noise of the busy hanger.
But Han heard. That much was clear, judging by the way the Corellian's smirk immediately morphed into a wide grin.
Wedge's mouth fell open. Solo and the Princess—were they...had they been...flirting?
A quizzical furrow creasing his brow, Wedge turned to look at Janson and the other Rogues. They were all gaping, too, casting incredulous looks between the diminutive princess' retreating form and the chuckling Corellian.
"What in the nine hells…?"Janson muttered.
Swiveling his head to stare at his friend, Wedge gave a shrug that indicated that he was as baffled as Janson looked.
"Hey, Your Worshipfulness."
Wedge's head snapped back in Solo's direction as the smuggler called out, the lilt in his voice as light and teasing as the grin on his face. His eyes flicked back to the princess, watching as she turned with a smirk of her own, and then tracked back to Han where he stood, rubbing the spot on his side where she had playfully jabbed him.
"You got lucky," Solo called. "Next time," he said, his tone mockingly warning, "I'll be ready for you."
Wedge watched, incredulous, as the pair continued to gaze at each other for a tick before Solo offered a wink and a half-assed salute. Leia dipped her head in sparkly-eyed acknowledgement, her lips pressed tight to contain the curl tugging at the corner of her mouth. Then she turned once more and continued on her meandering course through the stacks of equipment to exit the hangar—a path that took her directly past the assembled Rogues.
The princess offered a warm smile as she approached. "Hello, Wedge. Wes," she said as she ambled by, and then stopped to peer beneath the adjacent X-wing to offer a "Hey, Derek!" to Hobbie.
"Hey ya, Princess," Hobbie acknowledged as she glided away.
"What the hells?" Wes whined, sounding miffed. "What was that?"
Wedge shrugged, doing his best to act disinterested—when, in truth, he was greatly intrigued. He fancied himself a keen observer of human behavior. His watchful eyes caught the simple tells people unwittingly gave that spoke volumes about their next move or underlying intentions. He understood that the slower, more solemn blinks of Luke Skywalker's baby-blues broadcast when he was holding a good sabacc hand. A pinched, inhaled breath from Mon Mothma always foretold a critical barrage about the sorry state of conduct on base. Hobbie always got a case of the hiccups when he was overly tired. Leia Organa's narrowed eyes and sour pout were a dead giveaway that she'd had a recent and fractious encounter with Han Solo. And the usually unreadable Solo was an open book of irritation after his contentious dealings with the plucky princess.
Knowing this, Wedge was having a hard time interpreting this new type of interaction between Echo Base's most argumentative pair. He decided it could be very worthwhile, and possibly quite entertaining, to keep an eye on them and watch matters unfold.
The usually dour Hobbie climbed to his feet, and turned to his fellow Rogues. "Good to see her so cheerful, no?"
"No!" Wes squawked. "Where's the fun in that?"
"You're a gundark, Janson," Hobbie snapped. "The princess is nice. Why would you want to see Solo upset her?"
"Because their little spats are the only entertainment we have around this frozen dump, that's why! Where's their sense of duty when it comes to building morale?"
Wedge watched as Hobbie narrowed his eyes, glaring at Wes while the Tanaaban pilot continued to press his point. "Your nice little princess can be quite the antagonist, Klivian. I've seen her throw it back at Solo as hard as or harder than he can dish it out. We need to come up with a reason for them to really battle, put on a show."
"Cool it, Wes." Luke Skywalker's familiar voice intoned.
The Rogues all shifted or angled around to watch the commander as he trotted up and joined the group.
"You saw that, kid?" Wes inquired. "What do you think?"
"Yeah," Luke returned, and then tossed his flight helmet at Janson. "And I think Han and Leia go at it enough without you provoking them."
"But you gotta admit, Lukie," Janson reasoned as he caught the beat-up head gear in both hands before setting it down on the bench beside him, "their arguments have been the hottest things to happen around this icy hell hole in all the time we've been based here."
True, Wedge thought to himself. But if Han's waggish behavior and the princess' coy reaction were any indication, those knock-down drag-out days might well be coming to an end.
"I mean, think about it, guys," Wes continued. "What are we going to do for entertainment if we can't sit back and watch the sparks fly?"
Growing tired of Janson's whining, he scolded, "If you're so bored, Wes, why don't you come up with one of your grand schemes to break the monotony?"
"I just might do that, Wedge," Janson contemplated aloud, rubbing his chin. "I just might."