I do not own Star Wars. It belongs to George Lucas. I specifically don't own the X-wing Series. It was pioneered by the collective genius of Michael A. Stackpole and Aaron Allston.
Ever wonder how Wedge's bachelor party went...?
~~It’s Worse Then That
I knew there was trouble when Wes, Hobbie and Tycho came to my room, all grinning like a pack of tom-fools. Their choice of clothing was my second warning. All of them were dressed up as if to go out. This was not uncommon, but they usually just left quietly: Janson for some one-night-stand, Hobbie for a crash-and-burn date, and Tycho for a quiet night with Winter. They never came to get me.
But this time they had, and the grin on Wes Janson’s face warned me that the results would likely be highly disturbing. “Hey, Wedge, are you ready to go.”
I started at that. I had not been planning to go anywhere. I had work to do. And I certainly had not made plans to go out with this smirking trio. “What are you talking about, Wes?”
Wes’ smile broadened. “I think you’re losing your memory with your old age, Wedge. You are aware that your wedding is next week.”
I didn’t see the need to let him bait me, so I let pass the remark about my age. “Yes, Wes, I am...”
“And you are aware that being brutally hung over at your own Wedding is a horrible idea.”
I arched my brow, hoping to intimidate Wes a bit. “Your point, Captain?”
“It’s Major, Sir.”
“Nothing is forever, Wes.”
Wes’ grin broadened. I knew I shouldn’t have let him bait me. “We’re here to take you to your Bachelor Party, Sir.”
“Oh come on, Wedge...”
“No. Now go away.”
Wes met my glare with a bright smile. “Wedge, don’t make me get the blackmail tapes of your promotion to Commander.”
I hate it when he does that. “You wouldn’t.”
“You would.” I really do have to get a hold of that tape. I had no choice, and so I got up and allowed my friends, all of whom I intended to get for it, to lead me to a local club.
All of the Rogues and Wraiths were in attendance. Wes walked over to Tyria Sarkin and handed her some money. I shook my head and had to ask. “Do I want to know?”
Wes flashed a grin. “We bet on what it would take to get you here. Tyria bet on heavy blackmail.”
I added another note to my mental list. Tyria Sarkin must also pay. Wes, Hobbie and Tycho were already there. Wes was written in twice for good measure.
Corran Horn came and passed me a Whyren’s Reserve. At least someone understands what I need. “Feeling sympathetic to me Corran?”
Corran laughed and I shuddered. Not a good sign. “I remember my second wedding ceremony on Coruscant, Wedge. You need all of the sympathy you can get.”
I nodded at that. Wes has managed to prank every wedding since he joined the Rogues. He spiked the punch at Nawara and Rhysati’s wedding. He did a strip tease at Corran and Mirax’s second ceremony, to the utter amusement of Booster Terrik. He set off the sprinklers at Gavin and Sera’s wedding. He sang an Ewok tribal song at Kell and Tyria’s wedding. He streaked through Tycho’s wedding, causing Winter to faint and nearly causing the Alderaanian refugees to secede from the New Republic. I knew he was saving the best for me though. He even managed to send a prank gift to the wedding of Myn and Kirney, to whose wedding he wasn’t even invited.
Speaking of that particular happy couple, they seem to be speaking to Wes. I was rapidly developing a bad feeling about it.
I finally turned to Hobbie, hoping to get a straight answer. “Hobbie. Wes, Myn and Kirney are planning to prank me, aren’t they?”
Hobbie actually smiled. “It’s worse then that.”
Uh oh!! Then the music stopped and Wes got up to the DJ and whispered in his ear. I was in deep trouble. The DJ spoke, confirming my fears. “This next tune goes out to the man of the hour, General Wedge Antilles, from all of his buddies in the Starfighter Command and the NRI!” Then, in a screeching rush, a lively strip tune began to play.
I looked to Hobbie, panic written on my features. “Wes isn’t stripping again, is he?”
Hobbie’s uncharacteristic grin broadened. “It’s worse then that.”
Then I saw it. Kolot, his fur dyed green for the occasion, wearing a New Republic flight suit, and gyrating on the stage to the tune.
I turned to Hobbie. “You’re right, Hobbie. It’s worse then that.”