When Wes Janson stepped out of his X-wing after the Imperials' retreat, a black leather blur sped across the hangar to throw her arms around him with a sharp cry. "Wes!"

"What are you doing here?" he demanded happily, hugging her back.

"They never like the men with the droid parts," Hobbie grumbled, sliding down the ladder.

"Oh Hobbie," she said affectionately, giving him a big kiss on the cheek.

Tycho opened his arms. "What about me?" he asked with a grin.

She eyed him primly. "You're married," she answered reservedly.

"Just a hug," he suggested devilishly, then picked her up and swung her around once when she agreeably complied.

"What are you doing here?" Wedge echoed with a grin, one hand resting on his fighter.

She beamed, pretending not to notice when Wes' arm snaked familiarly around her waist. "The Empire talks a good game, but they can't walk the walk. My place is here."