"Now where are we going, Wedge?"

"Toys-R-Us," I muttered. Gripping the wheel tightly, I threw the speeder round the next corner, narrowly missing a plodding bantha coming the other way. "Dammit! Who the hell brings a bantha into Mos Espa?"

"There's a Toys-R-Us on Tatooine?" asked Tycho incredulously.

"There's a Toys-R-Us on just about every planet in the known galaxy," said Hobbie darkly. "I reckon they're a secret part of the Empire, poised to take over as soon as the New Republic shows signs of weakening."

"Oh, give it a rest with the conspiracy theories, Hobbs," I replied. "Not everyone is out to get us."

"But why Toys-R-Us?" Hobbie queried. "We're looking for a birthday present for Wes, not for some little kid."

I cut back the throttle and the speeder bobbed to a gentle halt. "Hobbs, this is Wes we're talking about. Mentally, he is a little kid."

We all turned to look at the building across the street. Twice as tall as its closest neighbors, it was painted an eye-damaging shade of green. Three-meter high red letters proclaimed the legend `TOYS-R-US' and the corporate logo, a long-necked bug-eyed alien of indeterminate origin, stared down at us malevolently.

"Sithspit," growled Hobbie. "That is evil."

"Don't be such a baby," said Tycho happily as he jumped out of the speeder. "We're bound to find something in here."

Still grumbling, Hobbie joined him on the sidewalk. "It's got to be better than Wal-Mart. At least this place might know the meaning of the words `air conditioning'."

I locked down the speeder and we jogged across the street and through the welcoming entrance, neatly sidestepping a towering display of stormtrooper dolls that lay in wait just inside.

"Wow!"

I couldn't remember the last time I'd seen Hobbie gobsmacked. He stood there with his mouth hanging open, his eyes almost popping out of their sockets as he surveyed aisle upon aisle of toys. Model ships and fighters of every size, fiendish puzzles as far as the eye could see, toy weapons, books, computer games, and rows of cuddly animals of every species, both real and fictitious. I grinned. It was rather cool.

Time to take charge of the situation, before he started drooling. "Right, men. Let's find us a birthday gift!"

We started wandering up and down the aisles, not quite sure what we were looking for. I was convinced I'd know the perfect present when I saw it, and shook my head at every suggestion the other two made.

I was just contemplating a bucket of green goo and wondering what mischief Wes could get up to with it, when I heard Tycho's "Holy Mother of Alderaan!" and the sound of two blasters being drawn. I ran round the corner to catch up and slid to a halt beside them. The sight that met my eyes took my breath away.

It was pink. Floor to ceiling, wall to wall, the most hideous shade of neon pink you could ever imagine. A huge flashing pink sign hanging from bright pink wires declared it the `Barbie' aisle. Both Tycho's and Hobbie's blasters were unwaveringly trained on it.

"Pretty," growled Hobbie. "What do we blow up first?"

"My vote goes to the pink X-wing," replied Tycho, aiming his blaster at the offending toy. "There should be a law against something that vile."

I smacked both of them on the back of their heads. "If you two don't put those away and stop messing about, you'll be on kitchen duty for a month." I watched as they unenthusiastically holstered their blasters. "Now, can we please find Wes a birthday present before this place drives me completely insane!"

We decided to split up - we could cover more shopfloor space that way. Tycho headed right, I went left, and Hobbie wandered off toward the back of the store.

I soon stumbled on the candy aisle, and was weighing up the appeal of sugar lightsabers against an enormous box of chocolate dewbacks, when my comm beeped. It was Hobbie.

"Boss, you've got to come see this stuff. It's perfect."

Now, Derek Klivian is not exactly renowned for his great ideas. He has a pretty weird sense of humor, not to mention a tendency to overexaggerate. So it was with a sinking heart and a vision of wasted time that I followed him to the rear of the store.

But this time he'd got it right. Abso-bloody-lutely perfect. I bumped into Tycho and we both stared up at the sign above Hobbie's head.

"Adult Toys."

"Happy Birthday, Wes!!"

We all yelled, clapped, and made lots of derisive remarks about his age, most of them aimed at his virility. Party hats, streamers, and bottles of home-made take-the-paint-off-an-X-wing hooch abounded, and several of the crew were already well on the way to `legless'.

The object of our short-lived adoration sat among his subjects, booted feet on a table, glittery party crown hanging at a rakish angle. "Thank you! Thank you! You may bring on the strippers any time now."

The door swished open and the crowd parted, making way for Hobbie and Tycho. The huge box they carried between them was wrapped in gaudy red paper and topped with a giant purple bow. They ceremoniously set it on Janson's table.

Wes frowned, possibly struggling to focus on them. "Tell me you're not the strippers."

Tycho thumped his arm, almost knocking him off his chair. "Just open the damn present, Janson." He grinned widely. "Oh, and - happy birthday."

Silence descended as Wes pulled off the bow, ripped the paper, and tentatively opened the top of the box. The quiet of the room was eventually broken by the mildly offensive sound of air rushing to fill the heavy-duty plastic membrane inside the box. Wes's jaw dropped as his `present' took shape.

It was a life-size, anatomically correct, inflatable lady ... Ewok.

I leaned forward and patted his shoulder as I waited for the gales of laughter to die down. "We figured you'd been sleeping with Kettch for so long that he was looking a bit shabby, so we thought you'd appreciate a replacement."

His mouth opened and closed a few times, before he finally turned to look at me, his eyes filled with loathing. "I'll get you for this, Commander."

I smiled sweetly. "Yub, yub, Lieutenant. And happy birthday."

Finis

Back to Challenge 3