Chapter Two

"I'm out."

Nobody said anything.

Jag looked up to see four glaring faces. "What?"

"What's with this guy?" demanded Wedge.

"He has no courage," said Lando.

Han stared meaningfully at Soontir. "He's your kid."

"It's just a friendly game, son." The elder Fel's tone was no less grumpy. "Live a little. Stay in some hands you might actually lose."

Easy for you to say. I'm not exactly in the right net-worth club, here. "All right," Jag said. "I'll give it a shot."

Wedge raised a brow. "So you're not folding?"

Jag grinned. "Oh, I am. Perhaps I'll be bolder in a future hand."

Lando chuckled. "At least he's definitive."

"All right, let's play on without Mister Wild Side," Han said.

And they did.

Jag reached for his drink, and took a slow sip. Almost gone; just a few more swigs. When he reached out to set it back down on the small table beside his chair, their waiter appeared from nowhere and leaned down to him.

"Another brandy, sir?" the quiet Nautolan asked.

"Uh, I think –"

"Bring the man another," Lando interjected. "On me."

"Very well, sir," the waiter said, and vanished just as quickly as he'd appeared.

Jag looked at Lando. "Trying to loosen me up?"

"Something like that."

"Gee, thanks."

Lando shrugged. "You're the guest of honor. If we're going to fleece you blind at sabacc, the least we can do is pay for your drinks."

Wedge grinned. "We're nothing if not gentlemen."

"Apparently," Jag said, chuckling.

He sat back in his chair while they finished the hand. This whole experience was surreal. The five men sat around a low table in the lounge area of the main lobby of the Grand Hotel, just a few meters from where Jag had sat with Jaina waiting for her parents to arrive the day before. Their surroundings were nothing short of ostentatious. Jag almost felt guilty sitting in the chair, as if the burnished wood and luxurious fabric were too expensive to risk the wear and tear of actual use. It wasn't that long ago, really, that Jag had been scraping together a sparse existence in the inhospitable jungles of Tenupe. Now he sat at the pinnacle of galactic opulence. He found it difficult to believe.

But even the incongruent splendor of Bolis Island couldn't compare to the incomprehensible sabacc game. Four retired generals. Four war heroes – three of the Rebellion and the New Republic, one of the Empire and the Chiss. Four celebrities, whose very presence in a public place never failed to turn heads. Four husbands, four fathers.

And Jag.

It was hard to conceive of a situation in which he could feel more out of place. Before his thoughts could wander any further in that direction, though, the Nautolan returned with the full tumbler of brandy. Thanking the waiter, Jag suppressed an inner chuckle. That was about right. In this company, Jag shouldn't be thanking the waiter. He should be the waiter.

A cry of exultation interrupted his musings. "Ha!"

Wedge was grinning. Han was not.

And just like that, another hand began. Jag leaned forward, watching as his father shuffled the deck. Moments later, Jag held his cards. Not bad, not great. He could fold or bluff, or just wait and see. After the first round of wagers, when no one else sent a strong signal of confidence – genuine or utterly faked – he decided to stay in the hand for now.

Two rounds later, he had a decision to make. His father was wagering aggressively now, and Soontir rarely bluffed. On the other hand, when he did bluff it was always a deception of monumental proportions. Jag either had no chance of beating him, or certain victory awaited. His father could be maddening that way.

Before Jag could make up his mind, Wedge gathered his cards into a palm and said, "Hold on a second."

The other four looked at him, then followed his gaze across the lobby to the main entrance, where a couple was just arriving. Wedge waved first, Tycho Celchu waved back, and then the rest of them all waved as well. Tycho nudged his companion, and Winter glanced over and waved in greeting too. When Winter looked away again, Wedge and Tycho exchanged a series of inscrutable hand signals – three short, simple gestures each.

"All right," Wedge said when he finished, "let's get back to the game."

Han raised a brow. "What was that all about?"

"He'd love to join us," Wedge explained, "but he promised Winter he'd take her to dinner when they arrived."

Soontir raised a brow too. "You got all that from a few gesticulations?"

Wedge shrugged. "We've known each other a long time."

"More like," Lando said, "you've both been so thoroughly submissive to your wives for so long, you know exactly what he's thinking."

Han laughed. "As opposed to you, who stands up to your wife all the time."

Lando scowled. "Some friend you are. Permit me my delusions, will you?"

"No," said Wedge. Then he looked at Jag. "Nothing to add, kiddo?"

"What wisdom could I possibly contribute? I'm not married yet."

"Technicalities," Han said, flashing him the Solo smirk. "Jaina's got you wrapped so tight around her finger, I'm surprised I was even able to separate you two long enough to get you down here to join us."

Soontir, who had calmly raised his tumbler to take a swig moments before, nearly spat out a mouthful of brandy, but recovered his composure instantly. "He's got you there, Jagged."

"Yes," Jag said, forcing a smile. "I suppose he does."

It wasn't that they were wrong, of course. Jag would do anything for Jaina, without hesitation or regret. Whatever she asked of him was hers, unconditionally. He wasn't ashamed to admit it openly, either, however much human male bravado counseled otherwise. And certainly not in this company. If nothing else, these men knew exactly how he felt about Jaina.

No, something else entirely was gnawing away at his gut. It was irrational. He kept telling himself that. But even Jag's formidable willpower couldn't banish this fear completely. What if everything imploded again? What if, for all she'd healed these last few weeks, Jaina still wasn't ready? What if she called off their wedding again? Could Jag survive another last-second heartbreak?

Reality snapped back into focus when Jag realized he'd wagered himself three rounds deeper into the hand on autopilot. He blinked, suddenly remembering what he was doing – and where he was. And that simple momentary recognition of his surroundings brought a wide grin to his face. If nothing else, at least he and Jaina had made it all the way to Bolis Island this time. That had to count for something.

As did the monumental – and completely inadvertent – bluff Jag had just successfully executed.

Completely misreading Jag's expression, Soontir conceded the hand and shoved the pile of credit chips over to Jag. A sizeable increase to his reserves, no less. Maybe the old guys were on to something after all.

Wedge gathered the deck and began to shuffle. The rest of them took the opportunity to imbibe more from their respective drinks. Wedge had just finished dealing when Lando lifted his fingers to his lips and emitted a high, piercing whistle while waving dramatically in the air high over his head with his free hand.

Shaking his head, Han leaned over to the rest of them. "Just when I think he couldn't be any more of an embarrassment…"

Still, they all looked over to see who Lando had hailed – and saw Talon Karrde doing his best to pretend he didn't realize he was the object of attention. Shada D'ukal certainly did, though, and waved back to Lando enthusiastically. Then she planted a sharp elbow in his ribs, and Karrde finally acknowledged Lando with an understated, chagrined wave.

Lando turned back to the card game. "What's his problem?"

Soontir shot Jag a bemused glance. "I couldn't possibly imagine."

Jag barely managed not to laugh. He picked up his cards – and had to suppress a flinch. This might have been the single worst sabacc hand he'd ever been dealt. Fortuitously, at that very moment an Imperial attaché hustled over to the game and canted his head to indicate he needed to speak with Jag.

"Hate to disappoint you, gentlemen," Jag announced, folding in his hand atop the low table as he rose to his feet, "but I'm afraid I have some business to attend to."

His retreat was greeted with a rousing mock groan. A few quick strides brought Jag to the attaché. "Yes?"

"I apologize for the interruption, sir," the young man said, "but you asked to be notified if there were any difficulties with your delivery."

"And?"

"Some difficulties have arisen with your delivery."

Jag fought down the urge to respond with a profane retort. Instead he calmly said, "Care to elaborate?"

"Maramere Customs has cleared the shipment. Before it even made planetside, in fact. But ISS is refusing to expedite release for further transit to Bolis Island."

"So deal with it."

The young man swallowed visibly. "We've tried, sir. But I'm afraid ISS regulations prohibit agents from requesting expedited processing on behalf of a principal. You, uh… You'd have to make the request personally, sir. In, uh… in person."

Jag sighed. "Very well. I'll deal with it in the morning. I trust you'll be available to meet me at the ISS command center at the berthing terminal at 0700?"

"Of course, sir." The attaché snapped a crisp salute, then hurried away.

The sabacc hand was just concluding when Jag slid back into his chair. Two consecutive hands to the Fels. Jag intended to make it three.

"What was that all about?" Han asked, reaching for the cards.

"Planning his wild bachelor party for later tonight, no doubt," Wedge said.

Lando scowled. "What? We're not wild enough for you?"

Soontir laughed. "Come now, Calrissian. No son should have to endure such an event with his father present."

"Yeah," Han added, glowering at Soontir as he started to deal the cards, "and no father should have to hear about the existence of such an event before his daughter's wedding."

"Don't worry," Jag said. "It's nothing like that."

"You sure?" asked Lando.

"Because I was really hoping you had some Twi'lek dancing girls on the way," Wedge said. "Are they running behind schedule?"

"At this point," Jag muttered, "I doubt I could even get those through our security." When the others gave him befuddled looks, he added, "Never mind."

"Shame," said Lando.

"It's for the best," Wedge said. "With all due respect to your other son –" He gave an apologetic nod to Soontir. "– if you're not going to have the event hosted by Wes Janson, you might as well not have it at all."

Han laughed. "Right. As if any of us would be allowed at a Janson-sponsored bachelor party."

Lando feigned shock. "What are you suggesting?"

"That Leia would feed me her lightsaber for breakfast," Han said. "And your wives – or Jaina – would all do the same."

No one tried to argue.

Unbidden, Jag's gaze traveled to the main entrance. "Speak of the devil."

They all looked. It was him, all right. Aged, but unmistakably Janson. The woman on his arm, on the other hand…

"Wow," Lando said. "She looks young enough to be his daughter."

Han laughed. "She looks younger than any of our actual daughters."

"Except maybe Myri," said Wedge, agape.

"Maybe," Han agreed.

For a moment longer, they all stared. Then Soontir said, "Well, good for him."

"Too bad for her, though," Wedge said. They all laughed.

"Speaking of daughters," Han said, finally picking up his cards to examine them, "Lando Junior sure could use a little sister. How about it, buddy?"

"Don't even joke about it," Lando said, grimacing. "I can hardly keep up with one. I couldn't possibly handle two."

"Oh, come on. It wouldn't be that bad." Han grinned. "Leia and I are managing just fine with Amelia."

Wedge cleared his throat. "Uh, Han? You do realize she's only one kid, right?"

"Who's old enough to feed and dress herself," Soontir added helpfully.

"Thanks," Lando said, rolling his eyes. "You guys really know how to encourage a person."

"Any time," Wedge said.

"Well, one's going to be more than enough for me. You want any more screeching infants in your lives –" Lando tossed a thumb in Jag's direction. "– you take it up with him."

Just like that, Jag found four gazes fixed right on him. For the moment, the game was forgotten. "No comment."

Han's eyes narrowed. "Is there something I need to know, Jag?"

Jag blinked. "Uh… no?"

Now it was a full-blown glare. "There'd better not be."

"I can assure you, Solo," Soontir said calmly, "whatever may or may not have happened under my roof, it was entirely – one might even say enthusiastically – mutual."

"That'll be enough, Father," Jag said, holding up his hands beseechingly.

"Are you sure?" Wedge asked. "Because I'd really like to hear more about –"

"Positive," Jag said, glaring. Wedge only winked at him. "How about we all call a momentary truce, and resume the game in a few minutes?"

After nods all around, Jag reached over and put a hand on Han's arm. "Got a minute?"

Han smiled. "Sure, kid. But you know I was only joking, right?"

"Mostly joking."

"Close enough for family." Han stood up. "So, fire away."

Jag rose too. He steeled himself, then jumped right in. "Well, I was hoping to ask you a very large favor…"