Gambling is Very Similar to War
By Kudzu
"Gambling is a foolish occupation"
Talon Karrde, Edge of Victory I: Conquest
"Hey, Lando," Wedge called to his old friend as he approached him in the Borleias mess hall. The dark-skinned man, dressed (as usual) in a resplendent cape, shimmersilk tunic, and stylish dress pants was chatting animatedly with Colonel Jaina Solo and Wedge's nephew, Jag.
Lando looked up from his conversation and smiled widely. "Wedge!" he exclaimed before enfolding the General in a hug. Not entirely inebriated, but possibly already drunk off of the general jolly atmosphere, Wedge noted. "Glad even the commanding officer here at Borleias could make it to my little party."
"Wouldn't miss it for the world," Wedge replied smoothly as Lando released him and stepped back. The Corellian glanced over at where Jaina and Jag had been standing, but they had mysteriously vanished.
"How you doing, my old General pal?" Lando inquired exuberantly, evidently failing to remember that they had just most recently seen each other about an hour ago. Definitely already drunk off of the general jolly atmosphere.
"I'm surviving," Wedge quipped. "I think I'm getting too old for -"
"You can never get too old for parties!" Lando interrupted, also failing to correctly predict what his friend had been about to say. Wedge opened his mouth to explain, but quickly shut it again. It probably wouldn't do him much good. Lando went on blithely, "Don't ask me how I got this brandy, Wedge, but I tell you - it's the best stuff in the galaxy! Haven't had anything like it since Dubrillion."
Wedge smiled grimly. "Nothing's been anything like it was before since Dubrillion."
Lando sobered suddenly (at least in one respect; probably not all of them). "Yeah," he agreed. "Yeah, you're probably right."
"So," Wedge said. "How's Tendra been?"
His friend brightened. "She's been doing fine," he replied cheerfully. "It's a little hard on her to be managing Shelter and running the company at the same time, but she can cope."
"Yeah, she's a pretty strong woman."
"Of course," Lando winked, "she's no Leia or anything -"
"Lando," Wedge groaned.
"Don't 'Lando' me, Wedge! As I was saying -"
"Lando. Lando," Wedge repeated. "Change the subject. That's a direct order from General Antilles."
"Or you'll what?" Lando challenged. Wedge sighed inwardly. The man was a gambler. Of course he'd have to try to call his bluff.
"Or I'll make you clean the refreshers," Wedge invented. Lando folded his arms and looked sullen for about two nanoseconds. Then he grinned again and kept talking.
"Yeah, Tendra's been great," he chattered. "'Course, I'll have to talk to her about glitches in the YVH droid programming. One-One-A has been acting most abnormal, Wedge, I tell you, most abnormal."
Wedge tried to stifle the reflexive smile that arose from him picturing the Solos' C-3PO droid, who it wouldn't be at all unusual to hear saying something like what Lando had just babbled out, piloting the Millennium Falcon into the Death Star core.
"Something funny, Wedge?" Lando asked curiously.
"Um," Wedge floundered. "No. Just…well, you certainly got this place decorated up, didn't you?"
Lando flashed that Lando Calrissian smile of his. "You like it?"
Indeed, Lando had decorated. Ribbons were strung between the rafters of the normally dull mess hall, statues of many Heroes of the New Republic lined the walls (Han with a blinking red light on the end of his blaster; Leia striking a heroic pose with a datapad; Mara Jade, also with flashing blaster; Lando himself in one of the most ridiculously over-the-top hero stances that Wedge had ever thought imaginable; Wedge with pilot flightsuit and helmet on; Wes Janson, who Wedge was amused to see holding a stuffed Ewok doll with a goofy grin that was even stretching it for Wes - yet another previously-thought-impossible wonder of Lando's statues, and Wedge idly wondered whether Lando had gotten them custom-made or merely borrowed/bought/misappropriated from someone; Corran Horn, with both a glowing lightsaber and a flashing blaster pistol; Kyle Katarn, whose statue was identical to Corran's but with a goatee; Talon Karrde, also striking a heroic pose while holding the leashes of two vornskyrs; C-3PO, who Wedge was further amused to find in a pose with his arms raised in simulated panic above his head; R2-D2, complete with blinking and flashing lights; the late Chewbacca with a yellow-flashing bowcaster; and Luke Skywalker, Jedi Master, who Wedge noticed had the wrong color lightsaber, blue instead of green), and some oversized ornament balls with little squares of glass mirror stuck all over them.
"It's…quite impressive," Wedge managed.
Again Lando displayed his obnoxious smile thing. "I spent a lotta money on all this stuff, Wedge," he said solemnly.
"Yes, I can tell," Wedge admitted.
"How goes the war? I've been away, you know."
"Lando, you were only gone for a couple of days," the base commander reminded him.
The ex-smuggler shrugged. "A couple of days can end a war, Wedge."
Wedge smirked. "Yes, you missed Tsavong Lah coming and begging us to accept the Vong's unconditional surrender."
Lando scowled, but at the same time looked a little wistful. I know exactly what you mean, Wedge thought.
"So show me this brandy you've been boasting about," he prompted.
"Well," said Lando slyly, "it might have all run out by now. I mean, you know how fast -"
"What do you want, Lando?" Wedge sighed.
Lando looked hurt. He pointed at himself innocently.
"Lando…"
"All right, all right," Lando grouched. "I wanted in on your planning. Tell me everything, Wedge. C'mon, you can trust me, can't you?"
Can I? Wedge thought, amused. Lando didn't exactly have a good track record of trustworthiness, but Wedge hadn't hesitated to let him be one of the original Insiders. Well, I suppose I can.
"We don't have much," he confessed. "We're kind of playing this by ear, you know. The Vong are hard to predict."
Lando nodded sagely. "Tell me about it," he muttered. "I wasn't exactly predicting them to pull a moon down on Chewbacca when I sent him and Han there to Sernpidal to get me supplies."
"Right," Wedge said. He hadn't known the big Wookiee exceptionally well, but they weren't strangers, and Wedge had ached when he heard of his death. Kriffin' stupid war.
"You know," Lando said suddenly. "I've always thought that gambling is very similar to war."
"Oh?" Wedge just had to hear Lando's mildly intoxicated explanation for this one.
"Yeah," Lando said, very seriously. "I mean, it's part skill -" he flashed a brief Lando Calrissian smile "- and it's part luck. Y'know, just the hand you've been dealt, and whatever the other guys have to play."
"I hear you."
"And you never know when one of 'em might have a skifter up their sleeve," Lando went on. "So it's usually a good idea to bring a skifter or two of your own, just in case you gotta fight fire with fire."
It actually does sort of make sense, Wedge realized with a small measure of surprise.
"And, like in war, second-place in gambling means you lose. See, that's how Han stole the Falcon from me. I bet he cheated."
I bet not, Wedge replied silently.
"And," Lando continued, "you play tougher when the stakes are higher. You're more cautious. You don't act as stupid. And when the stakes are that high - like the Falcon - you sometimes cheat. What's a little moral depravity in exchange for something as good as the Falcon, huh? I would still want to beat up Han over it, but I think Vader beat him to the punch at the place where I didn't have any choice."
Wedge silently noted Lando's use of the apparent nickname that he had assigned to Bespin; the place probably still haunted his nightmares, and Wedge knew (because Lando had told him on no less than twenty-seven occasions) that Lando considered what he did to Han, Leia, Chewbacca, and C-3PO there the biggest mistake he ever made as well as the worst thing he ever did.
"You see, gambling can also be for littler prizes, just like war. Like, say, this war is hardly even comparable with, say, the ongoing war on Melida/Daan. This war's over the existence of an entire galaxywide civilization that has endured for tens of thousands of years. On Melida/Daan, they're fighting over what the planet should be called." He snorted. "Gambling's like that too. I won Cloud City in a sabaac game. Man, Wedge, that was intense. But I've also played sabaac probably ten thousand times for things like 'who has to go streaking in front of the swimming pool -'"
"So that's what that was all about!" Wedge interjected. "I was wondering why Face had thought it'd be funny to run naked around the hot tub."
Lando scowled and continued. "And over a few dozen credits and not a few dozen thousand."
"And that's comparable with a smaller war or brief skirmish," Wedge rationalized.
"You got it," Lando confirmed. Wedge was terrified to find that Lando was actually making a lot of sense. "So anyway," the gambler continued, "sometimes skill wins you at sabaac -" another Lando Calrissian smile, which made Wedge desperately want to order him to clean the refreshers after all "- and sometimes it's luck, like with Han. Or cheating - also like with Han," he added, a thoughtful look on his face.
Wedge shook his hand. "Lando, come see me if you ever want your general's commission reactivated," he told him. "When you look at what the New Republic has left to lose, it might be a good time for some high-stakes gambling." He turned to leave, but Lando grabbed his shoulder.
"Didn't you say you wanted a drink?" he reminded him with another Lando Calrissian smile. Wedge decided that for the moment, having something decent to drink was higher on his priority list than killing Lando was.
Ten brandies and four more foiled attempts to leave later, Wedge staggered back to his quarters. He opened the door and found his wife Iella waiting for him.
"Wedge!" she scolded. "You're drunk!"
General Antilles, as of five minutes ago resigned from dancing on the mess hall tables with Lando's statue of C-3PO, could only nod feebly.
"Well, come on in," Iella said scornfully, dragging him in by his collar. "I don't know how you can possibly expect to coordinate Borleias' defense with the kind of hangover that you're going to have tomorrow."
"I'm not gonna have an 'angover," the Corellian mumbled, head hanging.
"Of course you are, don't be ridiculous," Iella snapped. "That was very irresponsible of you. Now you're just gambling the future of the New Republic on hoping that the Yuuzhan Vong don't attack Borleias again tomorrow."
"Well," Wedge slurred; a goofy smile that might have been stolen straight from Lando's statue of Wes Janson suddenly erupted on his face, "did I ever tell you that I've always thought that gambling is very similar to war?"