Ezra entered Lothal’s main spaceport, with Chopper rolling beside him. He used to go there frequently, dipping his hand into pockets and purses. Now he was going to use the same talents on a much larger scale. Low on supplies and fuel, the crew of the Ghost had no choice but to accept Cikatro Vizago’s job to steal a cargo shipment from an Imperial minister.

“Boarding Star-Commuter Shuttle ST-45, bound for Garel,” the dispatcher said over the intercom. This was Ezra’s cue. Pretending not to recognize Sabine and Zeb in the passenger line, Ezra and Chopper cut in front of them and entered the shuttle.

“How rude,” Zeb said.

Ezra and Chopper lingered along the side of the shuttle’s forward section to let the other passengers shuffle past. Two who boarded behind Sabine and Zeb fit Vizago’s descriptions of the marks. The human female was Maketh Tua, an Imperial minister, and her companion was Amda Wabo, a round-eyed, tusked Aqualish trader.

Tua checked her boarding pass. “This way, Mister Wabo. We have seats in the front.”

The Aqualish responded in his native language, which sounded like nerf bleats. Tua looked around the ship. “Where is that translator?”

“Coming, Minister!” said an aristocratic voice. “Come along, Artoo.”

Ezra saw not a prince, but a protocol droid plated in gold and a blue-domed R2 unit. The protocol droid, identifying himself as C-3PO and his counterpart as R2-D2, translated for Tua and led Wabo to the front.

Kanan slipped into the shuttle as the hatch was about to close. He sat next to Ezra and Chopper, though Ezra pretended not to know who he was.

The shuttle launched and jumped to hyperspace. Kanan tapped his thigh, signaling Ezra to do his part. Ezra started to push Chopper. “Will you cut it out? You have plenty of room!”

The passengers turned around in their seats. Chopper fought back by extending his electroshock prod and zapping Ezra.

“Isn’t there some rule against droids in the passenger area?” Kanan called to the RX-24 droid pilot.

RX-24 rotated his blinking head to address Ezra. “Sir, your astromech must proceed to the back of the craft.”

Ezra acted outraged and pointed at C-3PO and R2-D2. “If my astromech’s banished, then those two astromechs should be banished, too.”

“Astromech? Me?” C-3PO said. “I have never been so insulted! I’ll have you know that I am a protocol droid, fluent in six million forms of—”

“Pilot,” Tua cut in, “these two droids are with me on Imperial business.”

“Sorry, ma’am, but these are Imperial regulations,” RX-24 said.

With a clunking sigh, C-3PO joined R2-D2 and followed Chopper to the rear of the shuttle’s forward section. Ezra sat back in his seat. Kanan winked for a job well done.

Without C-3PO, the misunderstandings mounted between Tua and Wabo. Zeb leaned over to them. “Excuse me, but if it’s of any help, my ward here is quite fluent in Aqualish.”

Seated next to Zeb, Sabine waved off his comment. “I would never presume, though it would be good practice for my level-five exams at the Imperial Academy.”

Tua warmed to her. “You’re a level-five Academy student? I was, too, once upon a time.”

Ezra found it hard to hear the rest of their conversation over C-3PO’s constant chatter in the back. The protocol droid complained to his counterpart that their mission for Lothal’s Governor Pryce was in danger of failure. Chopper shut him up with a sharp beep.

“Ask Mr. Wabo where the shipment is being held,” Ezra heard Tua say to Sabine.

Sabine translated Wabo’s response as “Bay Seventeen.” Her grin told Ezra she had kept the real number for herself.