The freighter had only one class: steerage. Padmé and Nalanda sat on boxes with a packing crate between them while Anakin was asleep on one of the bunks. With their hoods and cloaks they passed unnoticed among the refugees in the hold of the freighter. At one end was the food line where a serving droid dished out small bowls of tasteless mush. R2-D2 fetched a bowl then deposited it on the crate between Padmé and Nalanda with a soft chirp. “You must do a lot of travelling as a Jedi,” Nalanda said, curiously poking the mush with a spoon. “And if you can’t?” “Master Kenobi?”