• Choose a category
• All
• Classic-Fiction

“Where time always goes,” Lando said. “There’s a giant black hole in the center of the galaxy, and it just sucks it right up.”

She shrugged and smiled wryly. “That explanation works for me. I’ll have to remember that.”

Lando poured her some more wine. “Anyway, you didn’t answer my question. When are you going to have a life for Bria?”

Her blue-green eyes were very intent as they met his across the table. “When the Empire is defeated, and Palpatine is dead, then I’ll think about settling down. I would love to have a child … someday.” She smiled. “I think I still remember how to cook and do domestic things. My mother certainly spent enough time trying to turn me into appropriate ‘wife’ material, and that included plenty of instruction in ‘womanly’ duties.”

Lando grinned. “I suppose she wouldn’t much like your current rebel image. Dressed in combat fatigues, armed to the teeth.”

She laughed wryly and rolled her eyes. “Poor mother! It’s a good thing she can’t see me, she’d keel over in utter horror!”

Just then the server brought their steaks, and both dug in with appreciation. “Lando, this is so wonderful,” Bria said. “This beats military chow six ways from sundown.”

Lando smiled. “Just one more reason I couldn’t join the Rebellion,” he said. “I have a penchant for fine cuisine. I don’t think I could stand a steady diet of rations.”

She nodded. “But you’d be surprised what you can get used to … with enough practice.”

“I don’t want to find out,” Lando said, lightly. “How could I give all this up?” He waved a hand at the elegant restaurant, and, beyond it, the glittery clamor of the gaming tables.

She nodded. “I have to admit, I have a hard time imagining you in a Rebel uniform.”

“At least not without extensive re-tailoring,” Lando said, and they both laughed.

“Have you ever been in combat?” she asked him, on a more serious note.

“Oh, sure,” Lando said. “I’m a decent gunner as well as a better-than-average pilot these days. I’ve seen action here and there. And, of course, there was the Battle of Nar Shaddaa. Han, Salla and I were in the thick of it.”

“Tell me about that,” she said. “It just amazes me that smugglers—as independent and hard-headed as most of the ones I’ve known are—could band together like that to beat the Imperial fleet.”

Always pleased to talk about himself and his escapades to an admiring audience, Lando launched into a fairly detailed narrative of how the smugglers had joined forces with Drea Renthal’s pirate fleet to destroy many Imperial fighters and several big capital ships. Bria listened with grave and knowledgeable attention, asking strategic or tactical questions every so often to encourage the gambler in his story.

Finally, when Lando was finished, and they’d ordered dessert, Bria sat back as the server cleared their plates away. “What a story!” she said. “I’m really impressed by the smugglers’ daring and expertise. They are all marvelous pilots, aren’t they?”

“You have to be good to stay ahead of the Imp customs ships,” Lando replied. “Smugglers can handle just about anything—they fly through asteroid fields, play tag with nebulas and space storms, and they can land on anything. Nothing fazes a good smuggler. I’ve seen them land ships while fighting uneven gravity fields on asteroids barely bigger than their vessels. Gravity shifts, atmospheric turbulence, sandstorms, blizzards, typhoons … you name it, they know how to handle it.”

Bria was looking at him intently. “Of course. Smugglers would naturally be the most experienced pilots in the galaxy.… but they’re also good fighters.…”

Lando waved a hand. “Oh, they have to be that, too, with the Imps apt to pop out and start blasting at any moment. Of course, during the Battle of Nar Shaddaa they were fighting to protect their homes and property, else most of them would have demanded payment for their services.”

She blinked, as though a sudden idea had occurred to her. “You mean … you think the smugglers would lure themselves out for a military action?”

Lando shrugged.