Han Solo took another turn and found himself completely lost. He had been told by…Nut Meg that was her name…that he could find some entertainment just around the corner. That had been ten minutes-and twenty two corners-ago. This is getting ridiculous. Then he remembered how whatever you were looking for was supposed to be behind whatever door you opened. So he approached the next door and did just that.
The room was large and somewhat crowded. There were card tables, pool tables, and along the back wall a long bar tended by an alien with huge ears. Han spotted Wedge and Lando at the bar, talking to the guy in the green coat from the place with the eyes-something and washed-men -or whatever they were called- and a roguish looking guy in the uniform of…Starfleet, with blond hair and blue eyes. He walked over and sat down between the Starfleet guy and the Captain whom he’d seen with the cute chick with the bone on her head.
The alien with the big ears came over. “What’ll it be?” he asked.
“Correllian rum,” Han answered.
Big Ears stomped off mumbling something about strange and crazy beverages and lack of profit.
“Don’t mind Quark. He’s always like this.”
Han turned and found himself face to face with a…woman. she was also in a Starfleet Uniform and hed spots running down the sides of her head and neck.
“Hi,” she grinned. “I’m Jadzia.”
“I’m Han,” he grinned back lopsidedly. “So what do you do for fun around here?”
“Just look around,” Jadzia smiled. “I’m sure you’ll find something fun. Are you a gambling man?”
Han chuckled. “I’ve been known to bet my own life on occasion.”
“Then you should talk to him.” She pointed at the Captain from-Babylon 5, that was it. Han thanked her as she drifted off towards a man with a beaked nose, long coat, and sword.
Han turned and introduced himself to the Captain. the man-John-was a likeable fellow, with quite a reputation. The lovely woman Han had seen with him was his wife, Dalen-a Minbari. Best of all, they both shared a love of piloting, and were soon discussing and comparing different types of fighters from their separate galaxies.
Han jumped at the sudden voice and looked over his shoulder.
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It was NutMeg who stood in the corner, grinning. It was not so much the entity herself that caused Han to stare-along with all the rest of the men in the room-but rather, her clothing. It was white as always, but nothing like the conservative garments of the other being. She wore skin tight pants, thigh height boots, , and a shirt that was tight at the waist and bodice, with lace, flared sleeves that gathered at the wrists, and a neckline that barely bordered on decent. Her hair tumbled loose and wild down her back in a cascade of curls.
She paused for effect, then spoke again. “I thought you all might like to try your luck at a new game.”
The pool tables in the middle of the room vanished. In their place was a long ovoid shaped table.
“Please, have a seat,” she said, taking the chair at the head of the table. Cautiously they gathered ’round and sat down with her. Something told Han that this “game” was not a game at all. He was right. “You’ve all played this game before, whether by choice or by necessity. It’s a game of strategy, chance, and luck. Yes, I am talking about the coming war. And yes, I know I could of taken this discussion to the “commanders” upstairs, as some of you are. But I didn’t, because many, if not all of you will be in the thick of this mess at some point. Also, you know the realities of the situation better because you have both fought and commanded.” Han could have sworn she was looking directly at him when she said this. “And we need that kind of perspective, my friends, for we are greatly outnumbered.”
A large glowing dome appeared on the table in front of them. The “non-futuristic” people started a little at that, making Han and the other “spacers” grin. Within the dome was a large sphere, divided exactly in half by a line. One side was black, the other white. “This sphere represents the good and evil in the universe.” As she spoke, the black began to invade into the white. “Unless we work fast, we won’t be alive to work at all.”
“Why don’t you and that friend of yours just blow ’em out of the sky?”
“Because, Starbuck,” NutMeg addressed the cocky pilot. “In this war, as in all things, there are rules. That is against them.” Han had never seen the playful entity so serious. “Alright,” she smiled. “Let’s get to work.”
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