A Most Unpleasant Droid: A Star Wars One-Shot
The planet's terrain was rough. Lots of desert, plateaus, and craters. Why the Separatists want to control this planet is beyond C1-10P. He couldn't think of any strategic value. Maybe it was the natives they wanted. Twi'leks were popular to enslave, if the Republic Holonet can be believed, which C1-10P wasn't completely sure on. Regardless, the Separatists were here, and that meant the Republic was there, so C1-10P was there. As much as he didn't want to be, he was there.
C1-10P was a C1-series astromech droid in the service of the Galactic Republic as a navigator. In his tour of duty, he was assigned to a Y-Wing bomber squadron called Boom Squadron. How incredibly clever and original, C1-10P thought. He had, specifically, been assigned to the leader of Boom Squadron: the clone commander whose call sign was Boom One, or (as C1-10P preferred) Numbskull. Numbskull was a somewhat competent leader and decent pilot, but C1-10P had seen the likes of Fenn Rau, and by that comparison Numbskull was little better than a common bush pilot on some backwater world. Like this one.
They were flying a routine flight pattern that morning. Numbskull took point, with his equally dense comrades acting as wingmen. They were to patrol the supply routes the Separatists were using to send reinforcements to the occupied capital city of Lessu. Shouldn't be hard, given most of the supply routes are out in the open and the common Separatist B1 Battle Droids were duller than Numbskull. Finding and taking out a caravan was simple enough, but Numbskull and his stupid friends would act as though they had taken out Grievous himself. If C1-10P had eyes he'd roll them.
This time was different, however. The Separatists got smart. They had Vulture droids escort the caravan, something the Boom Squadron hadn't accounted for. Y-Wings were great bombers, but terrible dogfighters. C1-10P advised Numbskull to take evasive action and retreat, but, in true Numbskull fashion, he yelled something about how real clones never retreat, and engaged the Vulture droids. The battle went on for a few minutes, and one by one, each Y-Wing was shot down, and each member of Boom Squadron was killed. Eventually, when the odds were 10 Vulture droids to one Y-Wing, Numbskull seemed to get wise, for the first time in his life. He tried to fly away, but the starfighter's engines were damaged in a final shot. Numbskull was screaming in his annoyingly shrill Concord Dawn accent. C1-10P was trying everything he could to help steady and level the fighter, but it was no use. The last thing C1-10P saw before the Y-Wing crashed was a large estate built inside a large crater. Then darkness.
Soon, however, C1-10P started to boot back up. Restored to power, however partial it was, C1-10P took notice of his new environment. He noticed the ornate rugs and the elaborate designs. He had no idea where he was, but he did know that it looked much better than the world outside, assuming he was still on Ryloth. His first instinct was to wander around, try to get to some source of information, maybe contact General Kenobi or Windu. Once he started to move, however, he realized he was tethered to a power cell mounted on the wall. C1-10P couldn't do too much, if he wanted to continue powering up. So, he sat and waited. Hoping that his savoir was friendly. And not Numbskull.
After about an hour, or so, the doors opened. C1-10P prepared himself for the possibility that he was not in Republic company. C1-10P was greatly surprised to find he owed his life to a small native girl. Skin colored green, head-tails just barely sprouting out of the back of her head, and big green eyes happy to see the droid has woken up. She runs over to him to asses any damage she might have missed.
"You're awake! Hooray!" The young Twi'lek girl gave the battered astromech a hug as she exclaimed her joy in his survival. C1-10P was slightly uncomfortable, but hey, she saved his life. The least he could do was let her have one hug.
"Are you OK? Is there anything wrong with you I didn't find?" The small child asked, "Your circuits aren't fried? Your hydrolics aren't damaged? Your sensors aren't – "
"Hera! Hera, where are you?" C1-10P heard another, more affirmative voice speaking these words.
"Hera, there you are," another, tall male Twi'lek walked into the room, sporting armor and long, orange head-tails, "I haven't seen you in weeks and when I come home I can't find you anywhere? Is that any way to show your father respect?"
"Sorry, father. I just wanted to show you what I pulled from the crash! Look!" The child who C1-10P assumed was named Hera gestured towards him.
"An old C1 unit. I'm surprised that he survived before his owner did," Hera's father said. C1-10P wasn't a particularly murderous or sadistic droid, but he was a little relieved that he wouldn't need to put up with Numbskull anymore.
"Isn't he great, father? I'm going to fix him up and he's going to be my best friend!" Young Hera exclaimed. She was already getting on C1-10P's bad side.
"I'm sorry, my daughter, but you're droid here is a lost cause. His model is on its way out of production. Not to mention the damage he's sustained and hos clearly outdated wiring. You'd be better off just scrapping him and building a while new droid," The older Twi'lek said.
C1-10P couldn't believe was he was hearing. Any suggestion that he, an official Republic Navy navigational droid, was outdated in any way, shape, or form was just plain, old asinine. And there wasn't any way he'd let this offense go unanswered.
"BROOWAAAAA BUB BUB BUB! WAA WAAWAA!" C1-10P exclaimed in anger.
"And he's a most unpleasant droid, at that," The horrible father remarked, "But, if he helps keep your mind off the war outside, then do what you must. Now, come. Your mother has dinner waiting for us. She's made roasted bantha steaks."
"I'll be up in a minute, father! I just want to finish something up, first," Hera said.
"Very well, just don't be too long"
"Okay, father!"
As the terribly cruel man left, C1-10P was left alone with the girl, who started tampering with one of his grasping arms. One shock sent C1-10P into a bit of a tizzy, waving his arms around in a spastic fashion, making young Hera back away in response.
"Your arms move in a very choppy way. I think I can fix that! I have to go to dinner, now, but I'll set you up in a nice oil bath, first," Little Hera said as she led C1-10P to the oil bath. As the girl left to eat, C1-10P reflected on his current position. The Republic never gave him hugs or oil baths. They only set him up with a complete numbskull in a Starfighter not properly equipped for dogfights. C1-10P thought he might actually enjoy his new home. And with that thought, he sunk into the oil, content and relaxed.