I don't have a shot!
Chopper, do you have the coordinates?
- What did he say? - He said, "Hello, hyperspace."
That's not what he said.
- Told you we'd get away. - With the shipment.
You said we'd get away with the shipment.
Kanan, we're low on everything.
- Food. - Explosives.
Fuel. We need to make some money,
or we might as well put the Ghost in storage.
There's always Vizago's job.
So we're arms dealers again?
More like arms redistributors.
Come on.
We don't even know what kind of weapons we're talking about here.
Hey, if it puts food on the table
and frees up some time for, oh, I don't know, Jedi training,
then I'm in.
- You game? - Say I am. What then?
I already know the mission. Let's head to the spaceport.
Now boarding Star-Commuter Shuttle S T-45,
bound for Garel.
How rude.
This way, Mr. Wabo.
We have seats in the front.
Where is that translator?
Coming, Minister. Come along, R2.
Final call for Star-Commuter Shuttle S T-45,
bound for Garel.
Sentients, please prepare for takeoff.
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Amda Wabo is most honoured
you are joining him on Garel, Minister Tua.
And, uh, if I might add a personal note...
Will you cut it out!
You have plenty of room! Stop crowding me.
Kid, how 'bout you get that rust bucket under control?
Mind your own business!
Hey, pilot.
Isn't there some rule against droids in the passenger area?
I am sorry, sir.
Your astromech must proceed to the back of the craft.
Hey, if my astromech's banished,
then those two astromechs are banished too.
Astromech? Me?
I have never been so insulted.
I'll have you know that I am a protocol droid,
fluent in over six million forms...
Pilot, these two droids are with me, and I am on Imperial business.
Sorry, ma'am, but these are Imperial regulations.
But, Minister...
I can't risk an incident spoiling these negotiations.
Go!
Oh, this is so humiliating.
Trust an astromech to ruin everything.
Secret mission. What secret mission?
I'm sorry, Mr. Wabo. I... I don't understand you.
Hello. Excuse me.
I couldn't help noticing your predicament.
If it's of any help, my ward here is quite fluent.
Oh, I would never presume.
Though it would be good practice
for my level five exams at the Imperial Academy.
No, no. But I couldn't.
You're a level five Academy student?
I was too, once upon a time.
That young creature can't possibly take the place
of a fully programmed protocol droid such as I.
The odds of our mission becoming a complete debacle...
Don't you shush me!
It hardly matters to you what they're saying.
Well, thank you.
There. You see, R2?
Here is an astromech who understands etiquette.
You could learn a lot from this old C1-10P.
Now, please ask Mr. Wabo
where the shipment is being held.
He said Bay 17.
Sentients, we are approaching Garel.
Please prepare for landing.
My dear, you did great service to your Empire today.
Now focus on those level fives.
Oh, I will, Minister. It's been such an honour. Thank you.
Take us straight to Bay 17.
Yes, Minister.
Bay 7.
Kanan, I thought you were gonna teach me Jedi stuff.
So far, all I'm doing is thieving, and I already knew how to do that.
Just get to Bay 7, open the door, and we all get paid.
So we steal to stay alive. See? Told you I already knew this.
Okay. I'm in Bay 7.
Well, kid, you pulled it off.
- Was there ever any doubt? - Yes.
Almost there.
Do we know what exactly Vizago has us stealing yet?
Karabast.
Whoa. They're T-7 ion disruptors. These were banned by the Senate.
You can short-circuit an entire ship with these.
That's not why they were banned.
Get 'em aboard before company comes.
There is nothing here. Where are my disruptors?
Yes, she said disruptors. Now hush.
Apparently, the cargo is in Bay 7,
so Amda Wabo wonders why we are here.
The girl told me 17.
In Aqualish, a translator can easily confuse seven with 17,
if she is an amateur.
Well, there's no time to waste.
Take us to Bay 7.
Well, stall them.
R2-D2, I told you before to watch where you are rolling!
You appear to be malfunctioning again.
Really. R2-D2, apologize.
Wait.
Wait. This is the C1 droid that caused our translator to...
To Bay 7, double time!
- Hurry! We're running out of... - Time's up!
We're busted.
Hands up.
What are you doing?
There a problem here?
Amda Wabo says those crates contain his disruptors.
Uh, must be some mistake.
Can't possibly be disruptors in there 'cause they're illegal, right?
That's irrelevant. We're going to search your crates.
Be my guest.
Forward!
On second thought...
You want disruptors, you gotta come through me!
Never again! You're trying to shoot me?
Get those crates aboard ship, now!
Uh, right.
Will you please stop talking!
Brigands, R2. We're surrounded by brigands.
The mission is doomed, and so are we.
What? R2! R2! Where do you think you're going?
Following that droid?
Well, he certainly seems to be on a mission,
so you had better accelerate yourself.
Spectre-4, time to go!
Right.
Spectre-1 to Ghost. We're good to go.
Going.
Look. Chopper made friends.
I am C-3PO, and this is my counterpart, R2-D2.
I was translating for Minister Tua
when we were attacked by thieves like, uh, you.
We have company. Imperial droids.
Spectre-5, let's get a couple restraining bolts on these two.
Yup. On it.
Spectre-6, Spectre-3, keep an eye on 'em.
Right. That'll happen.
Excuse me, sir, but this is a terrible mistake.
My partner and I are in service of Minister Tua of Lothal...
Kanan. A word?
Can it wait? If I don't confirm our rendezvous with Vizago,
we'll have done all this for nothing.
Yeah. About that...
Maybe this time we don't sell to Vizago, eh?
Maybe we get those disruptors out of circulation instead.
Least we got 'em out of Imperial circulation.
When I was translating,
I found out they were shipping those T-7 s as prototypes,
so the Empire could mass-produce them on Lothal.
See, Zeb? Perfect crime.
We steal weapons meant for the Empire
and sell them for credits we desperately need
to keep this bird flying.
Hey. If we need credits, maybe Vizago will buy those two droids.
Yeah. Good idea.
Describe the thieves.
I saw five... An adult male, a juvenile male, a juvenile female,
an old C 1 droid
and a Lasat.
Honestly, Agent Kallus, I didn't think there were any Lasats left.
A few, Minister.
Only a few.
And stay out!
You can't do that! It's my cabin too.
Ezra? Come in here.
Hera, Zeb's booted me from my own...
I know, but maybe you could cut Zeb a little slack today.
Oh, the way he cuts me slack?
Do you know what a T-7 disruptor is, what it does to an organic being?
Uh, no.
Well, Zeb knows.
Because it's what the Imperials used on his people
when they cleared his home world.
Very few Lasats survived.
And none remain on Lasan.
I... I guess I could cut him a little slack.
Good man.
So, how's the Jedi training going with Kanan?
Jedi training? Never heard of it.
We'll see about that.
Home, sweet home.
Can we discuss this later?
That's fine, love. But we will discuss it.
Right. This R2 says its real mission
was to make sure the T-7 s never reached the Empire,
and that his master will pay handsomely for their return.
I'll think about it.
So, we're not selling the droids, but we're selling the T-7 s?
We don't even know who Vizago's buyer is.
We know it's not the Empire,
and I already made a deal with Vizago.
So let's get these crates off the boat.
Sir, a distress call to Governor Pryce has been rerouted to your attention.
This is C-3PO, human-cyborg relations.
My counterpart and I were abducted
from the spaceport on Garel by criminals.
Thieves! Outlaws!
Remain calm, my friend. All I need is your location.
Sending our coordinates now.
Have no fear. Help is on the way.
I can make some beautiful music with these.
They're not that kind of instruments!
You just have to know how to play them.
And how to play those who want to buy them.
You have to buy them from us first.
Finally. Someone on your crew who understands business.
Let's just get this over with.
What is this?
You were followed!
- That's not possible. - Tell it to the Empire!
Leave the rest. We're gone!
You haven't paid us.
Cikatro Vizago doesn't pay for half a shipment.
And he doesn't pay for trouble with Imperials.
My friends, I hope you live to bargain another day.
And if you don't... Eh.
Shouldn't we be going too?
We can't let these disruptors fall into Imperial hands.
Sabine, destroy the guns.
Ha. Now you're speaking my language. I'll go get my gear.
R2-D2, stop! What are you doing?
Joining the crew?
Of course. Overload the disruptors, and boom!
Good call, little guy. You can join our crew anytime.
Well, short my circuits.
Hera, help Sabine open the crates. Zeb, Ezra, line 'em up.
Meanwhile, I'll deal with the walkers.
Advance and fire.
Thank you. Thank you.
I knew some form of rescue would arrive.
I told R2, but he thinks so ill of stormtroopers.
Wait! Don't shoot! Don't shoot!
You're here to rescue me!
Chopper, ready the ship for takeoff!
You! Lasat!
Face me!
- Wait! - Zeb!
Only the Honour Guard of Lasan may carry a bo-rifle!
I know.
I removed it from a guardsman myself.
I was there when Lasan fell.
I know why you fear those disruptors. I gave the order to use them.
That fool Lasat's gonna get himself killed.
Okay. We're ready.
Everyone, push!
No!
Spectre-2, get the kid aboard.
Right.
Move, all of you, now!
Zeb! Come on, big guy.
We gotta get out of here. Zeb?
Will our torment never end?
Chopper, get us out of here.
Will he be okay?
Yeah.
Thanks, mate. Appreciate the save.
Wasn't me.
It was Ezra.
And, Ezra, your formal Jedi training starts tomorrow.
- That's very generous, sir. - Well, I'm very fond of these droids.
Then I'm glad we could return them.
The simplest gesture of kindness can fill a galaxy with hope.
Isn't that a Jedi saying?
Safe travels, my friend.
Safe travels.
You didn't tell them my name.
Of course I didn't, Senator Organa.
But this entire ordeal
has rather stressed every one of my circuits.
Permission to shut down?
Granted.
You recorded everything, old friend?
Good. We'll focus on the Imperials later.
For now, show me what you have on your rebels.
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