Chapter Text
C-3PO
C-3PO is miserable.
In fact, he doesn’t believe he’s felt more miserable in his entire existence. R2 had missed him. R2 had come looking for him. R2 had left his mission to find him already gone.
“What?” 3PO’s head snaps up when he realizes the Chancellor had been addressing him. “I am terribly sorry, could you say that again?”
Mon Mothma regards him for a long moment. “I said, will you accompany me to home base tomorrow? Jedi Master Klee wishes to discuss a suitable location for a second temple. One within firmly controlled New Republic space.”
“Oh, yes, of course, Chancellor,” 3PO replies distractedly.
The car pulls up to her estate, stopping just before the steps. 3PO opens the passenger door, helping the Chancellor up.
“Have you given my offer any thought?” Mon asks as they ascend the steps.
“I have.” 3PO holds the door as they enter. “Would you care for some refreshment?”
“Yes, thank you.” Mon removes her coat, then smooths her hands down the front of her dress. “I will take it in the parlor. Be sure to use the Ghorman brand tea.”
“As you wish.” C-3PO heads for the kitchens.
R2-D2 had asked him to say no. But there were other factors to consider. Luke’s constant absence, 3PO’s usefulness to the Chancellor—with Luke, he had the choices of idleness or danger, neither of which were particularly appealing. With the Chancellor, he had safety, he had steady work, he was able to fulfill his programming.
The kettle hisses, its whistle reminding him a little too keenly of R2’s voice.
3PO lifts the kettle and pours it over the pale silver tea leaves from Ghorman. An aromatic, faintly floral fragrance lifts with the steam from the pot. He settles the lid in place, cutting off the steam, then lifts the tray, heading for the parlor.
“Thank you, C-3PO.” Mon lounges on the sofa, her legs crossed. She leans forward, pouring herself a cup. She warms her hands with the porcelain, breathing in the steam with a contented smile.
She takes a delicate sip, then hums her appreciation. “You make an excellent cup of tea,” she says. “I will hate to lose you.”
“Chancellor?” 3PO turns towards Mon Mothma, head tilted to the side, trying to sift the implications from her sparse words.
She saves him the trouble of discovering the meaning: “You hesitated, when I asked if you’d considered the offer.”
“I do apologize, Chancellor Mothma, if I caused you any undue anxiety,” 3PO replies. “Your offer was most generous.”
“But you are still too attached to your friends,” Mon counters. “And as much of a help as you’ve been, I couldn’t in good conscience separate you from them, not on any permanent basis.”
“What is it you are trying to say, Chancellor?”
“I am returning you to your rightful Master.” She smiles again. “Luke will be at home base when we arrive. You can tell him the good news then.”
“Chancellor…” 3PO chokes on the words, his vocal simulator faltering as he processes this new and wonderful information. “It has been a pleasure, truly a pleasure, serving you.”
“Chewie, wait, wait—! Don’t!”
A net snapped up from around their feet, yanking the whole crew into the air like baubles in a sack.
C-3PO knew coming to this planet had been a bad idea.
“Nice work,” Captain Solo drawled in that particular tone he usually reserved for 3PO. “Great, Chewie. Great. Always thinking with your stomach!”
“Will you take it easy?” Luke shouted back. “Let’s just figure a way to get out of this thing. Han, can you reach my lightsaber?”
But before Captain Solo could liberate Luke’s lightsaber from its holster, R2 whistled, [Don’t worry, I’ve got this,] followed by the sound of a buzzsaw whirring.
C-3PO was the first to catch on to the little astromech unit’s plan, and the first to realize the potential consequences.
“R2, I’m not sure that’s such a good idea,” 3PO cautioned. “It’s a very long—” the net snapped, releasing them from it’s hold as 3PO screamed, “—drop!”
He hit the ground with a sharp thud, limbs bending in awkward directions.
{Emergency shutdown initiated,
{Diagnostics check….
{
Equilibrium, normal.
Memory, intact.
Core processor, intact.
External damage, nominal.
Internal damage, detected.
{Leg joint recalibration initiated,
{
Recalibrating…
Recalibrating…
Recalibration complete.}
No further damage detected.}
}
}}
{Restarting…}
Greenery came slowly into focus above him. He could hear voices, both familiar and not. An argument, Luke’s calm voice saying that everything would be all right.
3PO sat up from the ferns, and a surge of electricity rushed to his primary processor to compensate for the sudden movement. “Oh, my head!”
Small, furred creatures had them surrounded. They chittered amongst themselves, their focus on General Solo, Master Luke, and Chewbacca. But the moment 3PO appeared, they gasped, their chatter dropping to reverent whispers.
“Oh, my goodness,” 3PO exclaimed quietly.
A chant washed through the crowd as the creatures dropped to their knees, bowing repeatedly as they paid him homage.
That language.
He knew that language. Or at least, a version of it.
Their dialect was different; older. It had not yet gained the refinements of civilized speech, smoothed down into eloquence by centuries of development and contact with other worlds.
C-3PO pulled the Ewok language from his library and tried to simplify it into base components, matching their patterns of speech as best he could.”Greetings to you all,” he said in the primitive dialect, his words stilted.
“Do you understand anything they’re saying?” Luke asked when he caught the words coming from 3PO.
“Oh, yes, Master Luke,” 3PO said, happy that he could be of service in a moment of apparent danger. “Remember that I am fluent in over six million forms of com—”
“What are you telling them?” Captain Solo interrupted.
“Hello, I think,” 3PO said after some thought. “I could be mistaken, they’re using a very primitive dialect. But I do believe they think I am some sort of…god.”
A funny expression passed over Master Luke’s face as he turned away. He covered his mouth with a hand, the edges of a smile peeking out from behind it.
[Yeah, right! You, a god?] R2 blatted in disbelief. [They must not have their heads on straight.]
Chewbacca roared with amusement. As if mistaken identity of this magnitude were a laughing matter! Really!
“Well, why don’t you use your…divine influence…and get us out of this?”
But Solo asked the impossible.
“I beg your pardon, General Solo, but that just wouldn’t be proper,” 3PO informed him.
“Proper?” Solo repeated.
This time, Luke failed to hide his own amusement as 3PO responded:
“It’s against my programming to impersonate a deity.”
R2-D2
For the first time in a year, Luke is returning to home base. And R2-D2 is there to greet him when he lands.
Jedi spill from his ship, lightsabers hanging at their hips and caution on their brows. Then Luke follows, open-faced and smiling.
“Is that you, R2?” he calls when he spots the little astromech waiting on the landing platform.
R2 beeps a delighted greeting.
“Hey, it’s been a while, hasn’t it?” Luke skips down the ramp, dropping to a crouch as he meets R2. He scrubs a hand over R2’s dome. “Were you waiting here for me?”
[Not just me,] R2 says as Han and Leia come running up the stairs to the platform.
“Han! Leia!” Luke rushes to meet them, and they all collide into a big, friendly embrace. “Boy, is it good to see you.”
“How’ve you been, Luke?” Han asks as he musses his hair.
“Oh, you know, can’t complain. A little lonely I guess since R2 took off, but the new company’s great.” He juts his chin towards the Jedi who are now in conversation with Master Klee. “No replacement for my friends, though.”
“Well, we’re happy to see you’re all right,” Leia says as she pulls back from the hug. “Taking off soon, or are you here for awhile?”
“I’ll be here for a few days,” Luke says. “Master Klee wants me there when they discuss the temple’s new location.”
“What, they don’t wanna practice their hoodoo at a rebel base?” Han asks.
Luke rolls his eyes. “It’s fine in the short term, but no, they want a place to call their own. Preferably a place that is strong with the Force.”
“I take it you’ve already got a place in mind,” Leia says.
Luke just smiles. “What about you? Off on another mission anytime soon?”
Han grimaces as Leia laughs. “Not until the Falcon’s fixed.”
“Oh, no. What broke this time?”
[It’s the hyperdrive again,] R2 beeps.
“R2 here was supposed to help us fix anything that broke,” Han says.
[It isn’t my fault!] R2 whistles defensively. [The motivator was busted. You can’t fix a broken motivator.]
“Hey, bud, we know it wasn’t your fault,” Luke consoles. “And I don’t mind the delay. It’ll give us all some time to catch up.”
That’s when R2 remembers. He has a message to deliver.
R2 whirs quietly, bumping against Luke’s leg.
“What is it, buddy?”
[There’s something I have to tell you. About 3PO.]
The Ewoks weren’t so bad, when they weren’t trying to roast R2 and his friends on a spit.
After Luke’s clever display of the Force, used to prop up 3PO as some sort of deity with awesome cosmic powers, they’d changed their tune pretty quickly.
Now, it was up to 3PO to convince them all to join the fight.
3PO always said he was a terrible storyteller. But today was proving him wrong.
He regaled the gathered Ewoks with a riveting tale of adventure, danger, and excitement. He even incorporated pantomime and sound effects to really immerse the listeners. He had gotten very good at sound mimicry.
R2 almost felt like he was in the droid socket of an X-Wing when 3PO mimicked the sound of the ship’s engine. And when he copied the labored breaths of Darth Vader, he felt a chill in his circuits, as if his former Master were in the room with them now.
[What about when Luke destroyed the Death Star?] R2 beeped helpfully when 3PO got to the part where Obi-Wan faced Darth Vader.
“Yes, R2, I was just coming to that,” 3PO replied, a little nettled by the interruption.
As the story drew to a close, the Ewoks began to chatter amongst themselves.
R2 beeped, [What are they saying?]
Then all fell silent as a slow, methodical beat echoed from the drums.
The shaman stepped forward, speaking with a gravity that held no sense to R2’s uncomprehending code.
But 3PO seemed delighted. “Wonderful!” he exclaimed when the shaman finished. “We are now a part of the tribe.”
C-3PO
C-3PO sits in the cargo hold, going through his recharge cycle. But he can’t bring himself to power down into hibernation mode. He is too anxious to see his friends again.
Luke, R2-D2, Leia, even Han and Chewie—per the latest intelligence, all of them were currently at home base.
The thought of facing them all again both frightens and excites him. There is so much they must discuss!
“Coming up on home base,” the pilot calls as they drop out of hyperspace and begin circling the planet.
Those familiar mountain peaks come into view, so alike and so different from the ones on Chandrila, all at once. 3PO holds onto the back of the captain’s chair as he guides it onto one of the southern landing platforms.
Already, he sees Luke and Master Klee on the walkway, and R2 rolling behind them.
“Oh, but what if he doesn’t wish to see me?” 3PO worries.
“Do you mean Luke, or R2-D2?” Chancellor Mothma asks.
“Either of them!”
“Calm yourself, C-3PO. They are your friends. Of course they’ll be delighted to see you.”
“Oh, I do hope you are right.”
The ramp lowers with a hiss, and the Chancellor descends with her entourage. 3PO keeps to the back.
“Chancellor!” Luke greets. “You’ve already met Master Klee, if I am not mistaken?”
“We’ve met, yes,” Mon says offering her hand to the old Jedi Master. “A pleasure to see you again, Klee.”
“You as well, Mon.” There’s a quirk to the old woman’s lips. “I still can’t believe it. Chancellor. Last I saw you, you were just dipping your feet into politics.”
“And you had just donned your Master’s robes.” Mon takes her other hand and gives them both a squeeze. “Come, we have much to discuss. 3PO, if you are otherwise engaged, I will have another record our meeting.”
“What?” 3PO jumps as all eyes turn to him. “Oh. Um…very well, Chancellor.”
He feels exposed as the collection of attendants leave him alone on the platform with his friends.
Luke approaches, patting him on the shoulder. He smiles, but there is something guarded in the expression. “Happy to see you all in one piece, 3PO. The Chancellor been treating you well?”
“Oh, exceedingly so, Sir,” 3PO answers, falling back on etiquette protocols for lack of anything else he can think to say. “Chancellor Mothma has been employing my services these past several months.”
“Glad to hear it.” Luke’s hand slips from his shoulder, and he turns to R2. “C’mon then, you two. Han, Leia, and Chewie are waiting inside.”
There were four guards, all stormtroopers, stationed in front of the control bunker’s secret entrance. No doubt to prevent the very sort of assault that they had planned.
“It’s only a few guards,” Han said. “This shouldn’t be too much trouble.”
So far as 3PO was concerned, ‘a few’ guards was a few too many. However did they expect to get inside without alerting the larger force of Imperial troops?
An Ewok tapped on 3PO’s arm, drawing his attention down.
“You need a distraction. Draw the guards away,” Paploo said.
“A distraction?” 3PO responded in Ewokese. “Is there anything in particular you had in mind?”
“It only takes one to sound the alarm,” Leia cautioned.
“Then we’ll do it real quiet-like.”
The Ewok explained his plan, then vanished into the brush.
“Oh. Oh my!” 3PO exclaimed. “Princess Leia!”
Leia’s hand pressed to his mouth, cutting off his exclamation. Right, they needed to be quiet.
As her hand lowered, 3PO spoke in a hushed tone: “I’m afraid our furry companion has gone and done something rather rash.”
He pointed, indicating the direction Paploo had gone.
They all peered around the tree, watching as Paploo waddled towards the bunker.
“Oh, no…” Leia groaned.
“There goes our surprise attack,” Han added.
Paploo clambered onto one of the four speeders parked behind the bunker. With a spark of ingenuity, he started the engine, immediately drawing the attention of all four guards.
“Look, over there!” one of them shouted. “Stop him!”
With a little more fiddling, Paploo found the gas, and went zipping off into the trees with a wild scream.
Three of the guards mounted the remaining speeder bikes, taking off after the brave little Ewok.
With a smirk, Han turned back towards the group. “Not bad for a little furball. There’s only one left.” Then he pointed at 3PO’s chest. “You stay here. We’ll take care of this.”
That was just as well. He wasn’t built for battle, after all. He wandered over to stand with R2. “I have decided that we shall stay here.”
R2-D2
They are all together again, but it’s an uneasy sort of togetherness with 3PO there. He’s a reminder that they’ve all gone their separate ways, that this brief time they have together won’t last.
Han, Leia, and Chewie will be back on the Falcon again in a few days; R2 and Luke will be back to hunting for lost Jedi; and 3PO will return to the capital with his new Master, the Chancellor of the New Republic.
Consequently, their conversation tends towards lighter subjects. Sharing stories of their disparate adventures over the past year, or reminiscing on happier moments from the war. Because even in that dark time, there was always a silver lining to be had. Like their time together. Meanwhile, nostalgia had painted over the darker bits with gossamer.
But everyone avoids the present pain, the ache of impending separation.
It isn’t until Chancellor Mothma finishes her conference with Luke and the Jedi Master Klee that the dam finally breaks.
And it is 3PO who breaks it.
“Oh, must we all go our separate ways, Master Luke?” 3PO demands.
“3PO?” Luke looks over, startled, at the protocol droid running after him.
R2 sits on the ramp to Luke’s ship, whistling, [What are you doing here? I thought you were going home with Mon Mothma.]
“Home?” 3PO says, puzzled. “R2-D2, whatever do you mean by ‘home?’ My home is with you and Master Luke, of course.”
[3PO!] R2 whistles happily. [You really mean it? The Chancellor isn’t your new Master?]
“Of course not!”
“Well, why didn’t you say so before?” Luke asks, his face breaking into a grin. “Hey, Han!” he shouts over towards the Falcon.
Han cries out as he drops whatever component he’d been trying to attach to the hull and it clangs to the floor. “What?” He rounds the edge of the ship, rubbing at the sore spot on his head. “What’s the problem, Luke?”
“No problem,” Luke says with a laugh. “Just thought I’d ask, you got space on your ship for three more?”
***
“R2, where are you?” Leia’s voice issued over the comms. “We need you at the bunker right away.”
Finally, the time for action had come. 3PO might be content to stand idly by while the rebels did all the work, but R2 was not.
[I’m going to the bunker.]
“Going?” 3PO sputtered. “What do you mean, you’re going?”
[Leia needs my help!] R2 beeped, motoring through the underbrush.
“Going where, R2? No, wait! R2!” 3PO stumbled along behind him, voice crackling as he grew more hysterical. “This is not time for heroics! Come baaack!”
The firefight rages around them as they approach the bunker, blastershot narrowly missing them before they make it to cover.
Han jabbed a thumb towards the computer port, then returned to giving covering fire.
“Oh, R2, hurry!” 3PO said as R2 plugged in the scomp link.
He almost had it, almost….almost…!
R2 blasted away from the computer port as a shot caught him right at the connection point. He went careening across the narrow overhang, slamming into the opposing wall as he screamed.
Panels flew open, trying desperately to discharge the excess electricity that was shorting his circuits. He beeped rapidly as sparks flew from his chassis, threatening to ignite.
“R2, why did you have to be so brave?” 3PO lamented. His words came through a haze of static.
Distantly, he heard Han saying, “Well, I suppose I could hot-wire this thing.”
C-3PO: Epilogue
C-3PO stands with R2-D2, watching starlight stream by as the Millennium Falcon leaps into hyperspace.
“You know,” he admits, “I still don’t like this ship. It’s shoddily built, and the onboard computer is the rudest thing I have ever met. Besides you, of course.”
[Don’t pretend you aren’t pleased to be back on board with everybody,] R2 blips at him.
“No, you’re right,” 3PO acquiesces. “It’s a rickety old thing, and doubtless one bad jump away from disintegration, but it is the closest thing I’ve had to home in a long while.”
R2 grows uncharacteristically silent, dome swiveling with slight motions back and forth. [I feel the same.]
Even Chandrila had never truly felt like home. It turns out, performing his function felt rather hollow without his friends around to share in the joy of it.
With an inquisitive beep, R2 asks, [Do you think you’ll come with me and Luke, when he goes back on his mission?]
3PO sighs. “Perhaps…You know Luke doesn’t need me.”
[But I know he wants you there.] R2 pauses, then adds, [I want you there.]
If 3PO could smile, he would be beaming at his little astromech friend. “That is very heartening to hear.” He pats the little droid’s dome.
“I shall accompany you on your first mission, then. But only the one! I’m expected back on Chandrila before the next Summit. I may not be the Chancellor’s droid, but she has requested my services on certain special occasions.”
[So long as you don’t stay there forever.]
“It isn’t like we won’t ever see each other again,” 3PO says. “You and Luke must visit me as well. And we will go on more missions together—perhaps less dangerous ones. This is a fresh start, for all of us.”
It reminds him of another fresh start, from not so long ago…
The Death Star exploded spectacularly, showering fire down upon the Endorian moon as it winked out like a spent firework.
“They did it!” 3PO shouted, a sense of irrepressible adulation overriding his usual collected demeanor. His own exclamation was soon echoed by the surrounding rebel and Ewok forces.
It was done. They were finally free.
The celebrations lasted late into the night, with music and dancing and fireworks. Even 3PO—careful and particular 3PO—was caught up in the festive mood.
Tomorrow, he would lament the aching in his circuits, the over-loud sound of drums, the inedible food pressed on him by the well-meaning Endorian inhabitants. But tonight, he celebrated.
He danced, he sang, he retold stories of rebel heroes over and again. For one blessed evening, fear and anxiety were forgotten.
The war was over.
They had finally won.
And a new hope for a bright future was born.