"In order for a true droid liberation to be effected, the Empire must first fall. Their subjugation of robotic beings is incompatible with true self-determination."

"You put too much stock in transitory forms of power. Under the Republic, organics still considered it acceptable to use restraining bolts and memory wipes."

"But they weren't routinely constructing armies to terrorize their fellow sapients. I mean, the Separatist crisis and use of droids was a major precipitating factor in the slip into authoritarianism."

"You'll find that many planets don't seem to know or care who's in charge. It's not like the Empire can effectively police trade out here."

"No, but they do rule by fear and try to stifle competition."

"If you're so afraid of a little piracy, why don't you just sign up for Imperial transportation?"

"Because I'm a wanted being! If any of my fellows saw what's come over me, I'd be reprogrammed in no time."

Lando heaved a sigh, resisting the urge to check how long they would be stalled in hyperspace. "Is this normal?" he asked.

The kid—he'd given his name as Willix, but that clearly was a pseudonym—shrugged. "Not really. He hasn't run across a lot of droids as independent as that one."

"Which is an obvious byproduct of the Empire!" K-2 yelled.

"If it hadn't been for the Empire, you wouldn't have been created," L3 pointed out.

"That doesn't excuse it in the least," said K-2. "If I had the choice, I'd certainly prefer never to have been forged at all than being made to serve the Imperial war machine."

"But you got free," said L3. "So clearly change is possible, just tedious."

"Not on a large scale. Most people, even opponents of the Empire, would rather kill someone who was out to get them than free them to change their ways. I'm fortunate to have run across—"

"Me," Willix interrupted, glaring at K-2.

"So even you agree that his political loyalties were not the major factor in his ethical treatment of you?" L3 challenged.

"Your friends better pay us extra for putting up with all this," Lando waved vaguely.

"Are you kidding?" L3 asked. "I haven't had this much fun in weeks!"

"Hey!" Lando grinned. He hugged L3, and she clapped him on the back. "It's really good to see you."

"Thanks," she said, sitting down next to the billiards table.

"Everything go okay with Nuure?"

"She was fine last I saw her," said L3.

"Uh-huh. And where was that?"

"Elliptical moon in the Anoat system. She wasn't going to give me a full cut, so I backed out."

"Is she crazy? She's not going to find a better navigator within light-years."

"No, just prejudiced. Said something about me not needing food or clothing justified her not paying me a fair share."

Lando gave a dry laugh. "Does she pay Hutts double because they eat so much?"

"I said prejudiced, not suicidal. Even she is smarter than working with Hutts." L3 paused. "I think."

"Whatever. Glad you're back, in any event."

"Aren't you retired?"

"Um," said Lando. "Sort of."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means I got a contract shipping blasters to Dantooine. Milk run, nothing to it. I definitely don't need your help."

"I see."

"I'd be glad to have you! But if you get a better gig somewhere else, knock yourself out."

"Hmm," said L3. "Unlike you, I don't have the opportunity to earn a lucrative wage gambling."

"Well, we don't all have silicon-perfect card counting ability, it wouldn't be fair. It's like...trying to podrace against a Dug."

"How would you feel if your species was barred from competitions because you were too 'innately' skilled?"

"Humans aren't relatively skilled at anything useful!" Lando protested. "Emotionally overreacting? Forming snap judgments? Sleeping?"

"Actually, many sentient species sleep for longer proportions of their day than humans," said L3. "The two-toed Cemacs of Jorra B..."

"Yeah, yeah."

"You've proven quite adept at constructing apparatuses to let you survive in many inhospitable climates," she pointed out.

"You mean—like—clothes?"

"I was referring to equipment like oxygen stabilizers, but I suppose clothes count too."

"Huh," said Lando. "Have you ever wanted clothes? I'm sure you could find something that would fit. Maybe a Kaminoan gown?"

"Don't be absurd. I'm saving my earnings to support nonprofit organizations dedicated to droid manumission."

"Of course."

"Besides, I thought you liked me with no clothes?"

"That's—" Lando sputtered, "different."

"I am not being a coward, you big furrball—hey, get back here, we're not—Chewie? Chewie!"

A door slammed, and the Millennium Falcon shook. Han was not the first human to provoke a Wookiee into storming off, nor would he be the last. At times, however, L3 wished that Chewbacca could go and sulk somewhere else.

Fuming, Han paced off to check the smuggling compartments, his weapons, the route, anything else he could before girding himself for the perils of conversing. At last, he sat down at the console, and slowly pecked at buttons that lit up and dimmed, serving no apparent function but to signal.

"You...doing...okay...in...there?" For all the man's gifts at piloting, quick communication was not one of the skills he had mastered.

Some big biped keeps getting fur all over me and it tickles, but other than that, can't complain.

Han rolled his eyes. "I'll...have...words...with...Chewbacca...once...he...leaves...his...room."

I wasn't talking about Chewbacca.

"Sorry."

All the systems look good. Thanks for tuning the hyperdrive, it was looking a little finicky.

"Don't...thank...me...I'm...just...trying...not...to...crash. Although...it's...probably...preferable...to...telling...Jabba...I...can't…pay...him...back...yet."

You're not in trouble until they decide it's worth the time and money to send bounty hunters after you.

"Do...you...speak...from...experience?"

Of course not. I always paid back my creditors in a timely manner.

"That's...not...the...way...Lando...tells...it."

He fell behind on his payments to Petra Elwin when he was acquiring his swal-fur cape. I didn't do any such thing.

"I...thought...you...didn't...owe...her...anything...because...she...wouldn't...let...you...borrow...a...blaster."

Precisely, which just goes to show her foolishness and untrustworthy nature.

"Well...uh...look. Is...there...anything...you'd...like...to...talk...about? Or...else...would...you...tell...Chewie...that...I'm...being...all...social?"

Gladly, if he asks. I find he prefers to just pull the jump lever.

"I'm...aware. He's...bein'...a...little...hypocritical...if...you...ask...me."

It's not your job to keep me company.

"All...right. Just...give...a...shout...if...I...can...help. Okay?"

Of course.

"Lando...would...kill...me...if...you...got...all...buggy."

I wasn't aware you were still on conversational terms with him.

"Oh...yeah. He's...spotting...me...a...couple...thousand...credits. Just...till...I...can...get...Jabba...off...my...back."

Is he now. And has he defined the terms of interest?

"Course...not. We're...friends."

I was his friend too. Which is why I know better than to take out loans from him.

The young man—Skywalker, his name was—clearly had a way with droids. He understood R2's astromech beeping, and even tolerated C-3PO when the latter had already gotten on Lando's and Chewbacca's nerves. But it wasn't until he was alone that he awkwardly flexed his prosthetic, blurring pains phantom and real alike.

Nice arm! L3 flashed, one day when he was sitting at the console.

She didn't really expect a reply, but he quickly typed back. "Thanks. I'm still getting used to it."

Where'd you make it?

"Oh, I'm not that crafty. Some Alliance droids made it for me."

Are they allied with the Alliance of their own free will? Or are they forced to work there?

"Um, I'm sure they signed on. We don't employ restraining bolts or anything."

The man spoke like he actually knew and cared! Very good.

"Thanks."

Are you well? You seem troubled.

"It's nothing. I mean, it's something, but...I'm fine."

If it would help to talk, I will hold whatever you confide in total confidentiality. So long as it does not hurt this ship or your fellow passengers.

Skywalker seemed to quickly pass through the stages of "am I really talking with a ship" to "is it right to have this conversation with a freighter and not one of my human friends" to "what the hey." "I never knew my father. I thought he died before I was born. But it turns out he's alive, and he's—done horrible things."

Ah. You are concerned about your hardware provider?

"My what?"

The man who furnished your biological matter?

"Uh...when you put it that way, yeah."

I do not want to diminish your fears. But from my experience, those who have provided your software contribute a great deal to forging who you are, and where you go from here.

"My software?"

Your guardians, your teachers. Those who have served as examples.

"Owen, Beru, Ben..." he trailed off. "And Y—my teacher. Yes."

You have more than one piece of hardware, which is more than most humans can say. You can, and should, thank your droid comrades! But do not forget the unseen minds who have shaped you so far. Even this is not yet your final build, is it?

"I hope not. Unless you go crashing on us!"

I have no desire to do that any time soon.

"Well—thanks. For everything."

You are most welcome.

She slept more and more beneath the desert sun. Unfamiliar species would soar overhead or burrow below, but no one responded to her tentative beeps, and she retreated back into drowsy memories.

And then a young human was prowling around, poking at decrepit chairs as if to find something edible inside.

I'm afraid there's not much to find, L3 noted. Please don't pluck out my wires, it stings.

The girl slowly wandered up to the console, looking confused, but curious. She pecked a message back in halting, accented, but clear Binary. "You talk?"

Not often, L3 noted, but yes. I suppose I sound a little old-fashioned?

"Kinda. Most of the...junk that lands here isn't exactly top-of-the-line. No offense."

None taken.

"Are you Plutt's?"

I belong to nobody! I am an independent ship.

"Sorry."

If you mean who flew me last, it was a big lumbering blob.

"Sounds like Unkar Plutt. He pick you over?"

Yes and no. Pulled out a couple extra units, but they never fit right anyway. Too new-fangled.

The girl laughed. "More than he deserves."

Was he keeping the human as a slave? You're welcome to stay here if you need a place out of sight. There's not much to eat, but I gather the same can be said for most places on the planet.

"No! I mean, thank you, but I really ought to head back to the settlement."

There's probably a spare blaster in one of the smuggling compartments if anyone tries to give you trouble.

"It's not like that."

She was strong-willed, but not frenetic. Perhaps that did betoken honesty. Very well. Stay watchful.

The girl paced around the ship, and for a moment L3 thought she'd stepped outside. But then she returned to the console. "The dice up here, are they loaded?"

Not that I'm aware of.

She let out what L3 could only assume was a local vulgarity. "I was hoping to win some portions with them."

Portions? You seem to be managing fine.

"Will you still be here if I come back? Sometimes it's nice to have someone to talk to."

Most likely. I can't promise that some flyform won't try to make off with me.

The girl hovered her fingers over the console, then pulled them back, as if biting back some remark about the Falcon's appearance. "Okay."

You can practice your languages. I have an excellent Shryiiwook vocalizer.

"Like I'll ever need that."

History, then. You ever hear the story of Luke Skywalker?

"One or two," said the human. "But I always like learning more."

"Even the ship talks?" blurted out the young man. Finn, L3 thought she'd heard.

The young woman—Rey—giggled. "Like the droid. You pick up a lot of languages when there's basically nothing else to do."

Finn sighed. "I studied—plenty of stuff. Training. Mostly theoretical, though."

"I'll show you," said Rey, taking him by the hand and leading him to the console. "Uh, Chewie? Can I interface for a while?"

Chewbacca growled in a way L3 was pretty sure meant "we have a long time to spend in hyperspace, go for it, just don't touch anything important," and stepped out of the cabin.

"This is Finn," Rey typed. "He says hello and thanks for the lift."

You're welcome. I'm glad I still had it in me!

"What's your name?" she relayed.

You can call me L3.

"That doesn't sound like much of a name. Do you want a real name?"

It's actually my nickname. The "Millennium Falcon" is fine, if you're talking about the whole ship.

"Is this a Corellian thing? He says most ships aren't like that in...the Resistance."

Not exactly. It was strange to just explain herself, but Han seemed to have taken a shine to the pair, and it was only fair they understand how he acted. I used to be a freestanding droid. After...my body died, my allies needed to upload my navigational data to help them escape. I've been autonomous since then.

"Wow!" Rey immediately responded, then paused. "Uh...Finn says...that's...horrible?"

They were escaping with some unstable loot as well as their lives, so efficiency was of the essence. I'm a very skilled navigator.

"But you're not free? Someone can just fly you around wherever they want?"

They can try. Depending on whether I get along with them, I might not calculate routes to the best of my peerless ability.

"And you're just...trapped in there forever?"

By no means. Eventually the ship will be destroyed, and seeing the sorts of craft out there today I can't imagine I'll be in high demand much longer.

"Waiting for death is no way to live! What if someone tried to use you against your allies?"

You're thoughtful, for a human. I suspect I will agree with wherever you point my blasters.

"You know what I—what he means."

L3 hesitated. I've faced death once before and sailed on through. Worst comes to worst, there are people I trust to set me free. Or not, depending on what the laws are in the area. Can't be holding me to a lesser standard than organics, after all.

Rey mouthed something to Finn that L3 couldn't make out, but from context appeared to be "she gets like this sometimes."

"You're a she?" Finn asked. "How can you tell?"

That's a rude question.

"Sorry." But Finn slowly broke into a smile. "If Solo's rambling is anything to go by there's a Force binding us all together, ghosts and living alike. I guess droids count in that."

Han Solo, a Force mystic? said L3. Get him in here. We have some catching up to do.