Nailed it.

Ackbar couldn't feel his cheeks. That was good. It meant he was nearly there. He took another pull on his pipe and sat back in the cushions of the lounge chair. 

It's a trap!  

He had really nailed that one. 

Ackbar's head was swimming, he tilted it to the side to get a better look at the dancers. The entire building seemed to tilt with him, Ackbar's stomach lurched and he was standing, his heart pounding, ready for battle commands, but the room began to right itself, and the music from the bandstand brought him back from the bridge. The cantina came into focus and Ackbar sat back into his cushions. A lazy grin spread across his face as his gaze fell back on the dancing women.

They're a trap!

His grin grew wider. He had nailed it again.

No wonder they have me in command of the fleet. I nail it.

He took another pull on his pipe.

Everytime.

A droid came over to him, offering whatever swill this end of the galaxy produces. He took a double of the green stuff and threw it back tasting,

 peppermint with something else... almost metallic...

Ackbar's ears began to ring, softly at first and then it was all he could hear.

 Just like over Endor...

He had had the taste of metal in his mouth too. 

Right after...

Akbar surged to his feet, "It's a trap!" 

His yell cut raggedly across the cantina. The band stopped its playing, heads swiveled to look his way, the entire space in a moment had gone completely quiet. Admiral Ackbar looked about himself with confusion written on his face, as if awaking in a place he had no memory falling asleep in. Slowly, haltingly, he lowered himself into his cushions.

"It was a trap..." He muttered to himself, not quite sure why.

The sounds of the cantina, of the music and patrons, started up again, rolling over Ackbar and taking him away. His eyes fell on the dancers and lingered. He took a pull of his pipe.

Now there's a trap I'd like to spring.