Star Wars Rebels(12)

            “Not much of a ship anymore.” Ezra pulled and pulled, his backpack bouncing behind him. The hatch was really stuck. “Besides, I’m just trying to open her up—”

            Ezra nearly lost his balance as the canopy snapped open. Dense clouds of smoke puffed out. Ezra let out a deep breath. That had been hard work.

            Free from the smoke, the pilot removed his helmet. His coughs settled as he breathed fresher air. He stared up at Ezra. Without his TIE helmet, the man seemed like any regular guy, not a brainwashed Imperial. He seemed like a person who might actually be grateful for having his life saved from smoke inhalation.

            The man’s face hardened. His eyes pinched into mean dots. He was not appreciative in the slightest.

            Ezra met the man’s stare. He could play this game, too. “Hey, don’t say ‘thank you’ or anything.”

            “Thank you?” The pilot bristled, insulted. He looked like he wanted to spit at Ezra. “Please. I’m an officer of the Imperial Navy. I didn’t need your help.”



            Ezra tilted his head, looked at the man again, and smiled. “Course not.”

            The pilot huffed and began to rise out of his seat. “Wait!” Ezra said. He bent down and pushed a hand on the man’s shoulder. “Your sleeve’s caught on the flight recorder.”

            “It is?” asked the pilot. He couldn’t move, the confines were so cramped.

            “Let me unhook it for you.” Ezra reached past the pilot with his other hand. Some of the technology here could buy him a month’s worth of food.

            A panel hinge squeaked as he wrenched it free. “What was that?” the pilot asked, attempting to look around.

            Hands behind his back, Ezra stuffed the gadget into his pack. He had no idea what he had gotten—and he didn’t want the pilot to know, either. He continued the conversation as if nothing had happened. “Why were you chasing that cargo ship? Were they smugglers?”

            “That’s confidential information,” the pilot said, again attempting to rise. Ezra pushed him back down.

            “Whoa, there, sir. Bit of metal caught on your, um, posterior,” Ezra said, indicating the man’s rear. “Wouldn’t want an ‘officer’ of the Imperial Navy to split his pants.”

            The pilot shook his head, flustered. “No, I—”

            “That just wouldn’t be dignified. Hold still, now.” Ezra leaned into the cockpit again, reaching for the other side. “Almost got it,” he said, rotating an interior bolt near the man’s waist.

            “There!”

            Ezra stood tall, darting his hands behind his back and shoving a second high-tech gadget into his pack. “Now, remember, sir,” he said, stepping back. “No thank-yous.”

            The pilot fumbled with his helmet as he climbed out of the cockpit. “Here, I’ll take that,” Ezra whispered, snatching the helmet. He didn’t have a TIE pilot’s helmet in his collection. It would look nice on display inside the tower.

            Ezra raised his voice, continuing where he’d left off. “Because, like you mentioned, you didn’t need my help. And besides…” He planted a hand on the man’s bare head, using it to vault into the air. “I didn’t come to help.”

            “Why, you little…” The pilot spun, but he was too late. Ezra somersaulted down and landed on the ground, running, with the pilot’s helmet tucked under an arm.

            “Just came to score a little tech for the black market, you Loth-rat!” Ezra yelled back to the pilot. These gadgets were going to buy him a soft bed and a fancy dinner. Many fancy dinners.