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His fingers encountered real flight suit and solid flesh beneath. He jerked his hand back. Neither Piggy nor any of the others reacted.

It was a dream, it had to be. And by the rules of dreams, doubtless there was to be some bad result if he failed to escape before the Wraiths awoke. In case he could short-circuit the process, he pinched himself, hoping to awaken prematurely, but he had no such luck. The scene remained before him.

Moving with less caution, he made it to the other door and backed into it … and his bare rear once again contacted metal as the door failed to open.

Well, then. There was one more door out of this chamber, which should open up into a corridor—a corridor that he could, with luck, duck down unobserved and perhaps reach the pilots’s ready room, where he had another uniform in his locker. He continued sideways along the wall, around the corner …

He reached the doorway and turned into it. The door whooshed open. And beyond was Wedge, fully uniformed, bellowing, “Attention!”

The room lights blazed into normal brightness and Janson heard the Wraiths behind him snapping to attention. He felt his cheeks burn as he realized they had to be facing his bare backside.

Wedge looked at Janson, then at the Ewok toy he held protectively before him. “Lieutenant, you’re out of uniform. And you know, wearing an Ewok as a swimsuit is a felony on some worlds.”

Janson nodded. He could not keep a rueful grin from forming on his lips. “I have been so set up,” he said.

“Good analysis,” Wedge said. “You’re showing real leadership potential, among other things. Lieutenant Nelprin?”

Shalla approached, standing beside Janson so he could see her without turning. In her hands was a folded mass of orange cloth. She unfolded and displayed it before him. It was a cloak, in New Republic flight-suit orange, with the words “Yub, yub, Lieutenant” stenciled on the back in black. She swept it across his shoulders and fastened it around his neck. Then she leaned in close and whispered, “Nice rear, Lieutenant.”

Janson felt his cheeks burning hotter. “Thank you for noticing, Lieutenant.” He handed her the Ewok doll and draped the cloak in a more concealing fashion about himself. “I take it this is revenge for that bet about your not speaking Wookiee?”

Wedge stepped into the room and the door shut behind him. “Well, for that, and for your antics with Lieutenant Kettch here and at Hawk-bat Base.”

Janson couldn’t keep the surprise from his face. “You knew about that?”

“Well, not at first, of course. Not for sure.” Wedge threw an arm over Janson’s shoulders and turned him, leading him back into the room, into the midst of the grinning Wraiths. “But you didn’t do much of a job of concealing your tracks. The doll showed up immediately after your return from Coruscant, which meant that it was probably you or someone else involved with that trip. Then, after it was obvious that the doll was wandering pretty much at will, I had a transmitter sewn into it.”

Janson winced. “You tracked its movements. And knew it was me. And waited all this time for payback.”

“So, do you still think revenge is beneath Wedge Antilles, Hero of the New Republic?”

“I’m not sure anything is beneath you anymore. Who was playing Kettch? Or Chulku, or whatever his name was supposed to be?”

Wedge grinned. “The first time, we had Squeaky in the box you saw. He speaks Ewok, of course.”

“Of course.” Janson sighed.

Dia said, “I was the footsteps you were following a few minutes ago. And I was the one who splashed you with the bucket full of cleansers. Had to make sure you got plenty on you. We couldn’t rely on you to fall correctly onto the buckets we’d placed.”

Wedge accepted a small glass of amber-colored liquid from Kell, passed it to Janson. “A reward. You’re taking it very well, Wes. Just remember that, when it comes to pranks, you have the necessary enthusiasm, you have the inventiveness, you have the experience … I have the resources.”

“Granted.” Janson sipped at the glass, made an appreciative face. It was Whyren’s Reserve, a Corellian brandy with a