Author Notes: Four favourites? Not to seem like I'm fishing for compliments or anything (and I know that saying that only makes me more suspicious in that regard), but I am pleasantly surprised. Albeit, not so much with the quality of my story but more so the rather bizarre concept.

Speaking of which, thanks to DeepDark And Dangerous lol for that aforementioned fourth favourite!

CHAPTER FOUR - ORDERLY

When Threepio arrived on this deserted planet, he hadn't expected to see anything of humanity left. Let alone see it in such an organised, protected fashion.

'My word...'

Now with his joints mostly free of that coarse, rough, and irritating sand, he could stand up with relative ease once again. He approached one of many shelves decorated with seemingly hundreds of little artefacts from whenever people still lived on this planet.

'Where did you find all of... this?'

'Weep tweet boop.'

'You scavenged it all from the trash? Oh my...'

Though the idea of scavenging through garbage didn't seem any more appealing to him, Threepio had to admit that the little astromech's spoils were impressive. He reached out for what appeared to be a regular old wrench.

'BZZZRT ZRRRT!'

Artoo saw his new friend about to touch his collection, and a part of him snapped just a little.

*CLANK*

So he ran his body into Threepio, knocking him away. He made sure not to hit him too hard; just enough to get him away from his precious findings. He guessed that the look Threepio was giving him was some sort of glare.

'You really need to learn some manners, you impolite bucket of-!'

'Woo-wee rzzzrt!'

Threepio put his hands on his 'hips'. 'I'm not allowed to touch your belongings?'

'Mruuu.'

Artoo loved his ability to make surprisingly sad-sounding beeps, even more so now that he could properly take advantage of it.

Threepio slumped his arms. 'Oh, alright. I'll just look.'

So he did. Artoo stood close to him, doing his little happy dance as if super excited to show off his various objects to a friend at last. Not that Threepio would ever tell him, but he found the dance rather cute.

If Threepio had to guess, that astromech probably believed he was showing off some ancient artefacts that had never been seen before. Threepio didn't have the heart - literally and figuratively - to admit that he recognised almost everything in the collection.

Still, it reminded him of just how little things had changed in seven centuries. But looking over everything, what truly amazed him was how intact everything was. Granted, plenty of things were literally in pieces, but plenty more were practically in one piece.

It was like he walked into a museum, kept in check by the most dedicated worker you've ever seen.

'And you collected all this... by yourself?'

'Twidda bip-bip-bip.'

'Well you're just a little proud of yourself, aren't you?'

And rightfully so. As if this vast collection wasn't impressive enough, everything had been organised into neat little groups. Of course, Threepio expected a fellow droid to be good at organising, but this went above and beyond his expectations.

The only thing out of place was a lone spork, placed randomly by itself between the spoons and the forks. The way Threepio saw it, it was much better off with the other pronged utensils. Wait... or was it more fitting with the rest of the scooping silverware?

Never mind - that blasted device was right where it needed to be.

Artoo danced so hard, his joints were about to give up. He couldn't believe what he had been missing for seven hundred years! Here he thought he was doing just fine without companionship, as much as he wanted it.

Now he wondered how he ever lived without it.

The astromech reached up to a higher shelf, something he always struggled to do. Usually, his jetpacks would fix the problem, but they were a little out of service right now.

'Oh, would you like me to grab something?'

Artoo would've gasped in joy if droids could. Just when he thought it couldn't get any better, Threepio just revealed he could help him with hard-to-reach shelves and the like! This was it! The sign of a great relationship. Artoo had the resourcefulness and the jetpack, and Threepio had the translation and the height. What a combo!

'Woo woo! Wruuu tweet!'

'Uh, you mean one of these?'

Just as Artoo desired, Threepio grabbed one of the lightsaber hilts. By luck, he held the exact one Artoo wanted him to. Better yet, away from his body.

'Tweepa breep!'

'Press the button?'

The Protocol droid did as suggested.

*PSSSH*

'OH MY!'

For a moment, a green laser blade shot out from the hilt, catching Threepio by surprise to say the least. So much so that he dropped it, making the blade vanish as quickly as it came. Artoo caught it before it hit the floor.

'You have a working lightsaber?! That could've cut me to pieces! You should warn me next time.'

Apparently, this new friend had little faith in Artoo. He supposed he couldn't blame him - they had only known each other for a few minutes, it felt like. He handed the hilt back to Threepio, who put it back on the shelf as swiftly as possible.

An idea came to Artoo's 'mind'. What was he doing, showing his new friend just all the stuff on the shelves? Not when the greatest of them all was asking to be shown off.

'Boop beep.'

'Wait here? Why?'

'Bippa boo beep!'

'Saved the best for last?'

Okay, he really needed to stop that repeating thing.

The astromech grabbed the imagecaster, and carried it over to Threepio. He placed it on the floor at his friend's feet, beeping in joy as he did so. Threepio's eyes literally lit up, with a subtle increase to their brightness.

'My word... that's an imagecaster! Does it still work?'

Artoo didn't need to respond to him; all he needed to do was turn the thing on. It projected the same images it did before - that loving man and caring woman, in each other's arms and looking longingly in each other's eyes.

Something a little weird happened to Artoo's visual receptors. He began to 'imagine', if you will, himself and his new friend in place of that couple. Their height difference made the scene rather awkward, yet adorable.

He waited for Threepio's response to the beautiful sight, but nothing came. For the first time since they met - and the first time in quite a while - the Protocol droid had fallen completely silent.

Threepio just stared at the images, even after they started to cycle, with what Artoo presumed to be shock.

It took a little while before he said anything.

'... It can't be...'

He stepped closer to the holographic pictures, focusing specifically on the man. Somehow, despite all the faces he had seen across his centuries of being powered on, he could never forget this one.

'Wruuu?'

Threepio reached out, as if the image was actually the man itself. Of course, his hand went straight through it.

'How... how do you have this?'

Artoo noted the tone of his voice. Before, any emotion he expressed - whether it be happiness, fear, or frustration - came out rather exaggerated and bold. Now, the tone was nothing more than subdued shock, best described as mystified.

'Wruuurruuu?'

'I... I haven't seen this man's face in years. Artoo, this man, he... he was my maker.'

'BRZT?!'

Now Artoo stared at the imagecaster in shock. He simply couldn't believe it. Never mind the luck... the man he had been admiring this whole time had made his new friend?

'Well, he didn't make me from scratch. My master before him left me to rot on an old desert planet. She didn't care about me. But then this man, when he was a young boy, repaired me. He cared for me. He took me with him when he moved to Coruscant...'

He stopped talking once again when the word 'Coruscant' left his speech box. He seemed to be deep in thought, which was a very weird look for him.

'Wait a minute. If you have this imagecaster, then this planet must be...'

Artoo remained staring at the image of that man. He honoured him even more now.

'Wruuruu wuh tweepa?'

It took Threepio a moment to realise he was being asked a question.

'Oh! Um... I do apologise Artoo, but I'm afraid he is no longer around. You see... he saved me over seven hundred years ago.'

Seven hundred years...

It was always that number, wasn't it? That was how long ago this planet was populated, and how long ago Artoo was dropped on this Maker-forsaken planet.

Something dawned on Artoo. If Threepio had been built before the planet went to ruin, unlike Artoo himself who came right after it... the Protocol droid was older than him.

And in that moment, even the fully-working imagecaster seemed worthless compared to who stood before him. Nothing compared to a living relic, able to tell potentially hundreds of stories of what this planet was once like.

'Boop boop weeeep?'

'Why yes, Artoo! Of course I remember Coruscant! Droids don't forget anything. Well, without a memory wipe. Coruscant was a magnificent place. The whole planet was one big city! Hundreds of different species made up the population of approximately one trillion. My communicative abilities allowed me to meet thousands of people during my brief time there.'

Artoo 'imagined' a big sprawling city, and a planet covered with buildings. He saw the speeders and ships flying through the air in organised lines, and all kinds of species getting along.

Hang on... 'brief'?

'Wuh-wruu?'

'What do I mean by brief? Oh dear... we simply couldn't stay in Coruscant forever. Seven hundred years ago, there was a gang ruled by a scoundrel named Sise Fromm, and they had a devastating weapon known as the Trigon One. We... some of us managed to escape the planet in time, but...'

Threepio stayed silent for a few moments. Artoo listened to the entire story intently while looking at the imagecaster's projection.

'The weapon may not have been powerful enough to blow up a planet, but it was certainly strong. It decimated all life on any planet it fired on.'

'TWEEP?!'

'Oh, don't worry too much. Sise Fromm is long gone now. His gang, on the other hand... well, his species can potentially live to be ten hundred years, but without their leader they're not nearly the threat they once were. But that blasted Trigon One remains functional today. It's seemingly impenetrable.'

Artoo switched the imagecaster off. He couldn't afford to have anything take his attention away from Threepio.

'My master - the man you see in that imagecaster - was part of the group that attacked the Fromm gang's base to steal plans to the blaster weapon. I remember the names of those who embarked on such a perilous mission. Jord, Thall, Kea, Jyn, Cassian, Chirrut... even a reprogrammed battle droid. The mission was a success... but only my master returned.'

Threepio fell silent again. Anyone who had known him for a long enough time would've thought he was malfunctioning.

'He managed to return with the plans, but Sise Fromm used his dreaded machine to reduce Coruscant to an utter wasteland. And, alas, the plans went missing never to be found again. Supposedly, the plans are still - OH!'

Artoo flinched. That 'OH' sounded like someone had shot him in the back.

'Oh my goodness, I almost forgot! That's the entire reason why I'm here to begin with. I've been sent to find those plans!'

His tone shifted from alerted panic to subtle frustration over the course of that last sentence.

'Why in the lava seas of Mustafar my masters would think the plans may have been on this dustball is beyond my programming.'

'Bippa woop?'

'Yes, of course they were just trying to get rid of me! But I can't possibly stay here. My joints can't take all this sand! Well, if my masters want me to find something impossible I might as well try, if they're going to leave me here anyway!'

Artoo noted that his tone had shifted from 'frustration' to 'utter aggravation'. Surely 'determination' would be more fitting.

'How long do you believe this storm will last for?'

'Mmm... toop tweet.'

'An h-?! Oh my stars, this planet is going to destroy me... please tell me you have my blaster.'

'Ooo. Bibippa!'

Thanks to the vagueness of simply 'plans', Artoo had no clue what his friend was supposed to look for. No matter what though, he knew he'd help Threepio look until the bitter end.

*clank*

'Wuh?'

As Artoo pulled Threepio's blaster out of his storage, the green lunchbox thing that shared the compartment fell out and onto the floor. Artoo didn't pay it any mind, and just held the blaster up for his friend to take it.

Threepio didn't take it, or even look at it. He just stared at the shiny green object lying on the floor.

'Artoo? What is that?'

He sounded so stunned. Artoo almost laughed - what, was he scared of that thing now?

'Twooop beeeppa.'

'A... a data card?! Artoo, scan its contents at once!'

With the urgency in his voice, how could Artoo say 'no'? He placed it into a dedicated slot on his body, and scanned its contents in moments. The name came to him in binary code, but any old droid can understand ones and zeroes.

01010100 01110010 01101001 01100111 01101111 01101110 00100000 01001111 01101110 01100101 00100000 01010000 01101100 01100001 01101110 01110011

It took his usually-lightning-fast processors a few seconds to properly comprehend this one.

'Well? What is it? Is it those plans we so desperately need?!'

Artoo answered his question in a somewhat roundabout way - by spinning around on one foot and whistling in joy. He could see the entire blueprints of this 'Trigon One' inside his 'mind', down to the tiniest details!

'Artoo, that doesn't answer my question! Are they the plans or not?'

'Woo woooo-tweeet!'

'Wait a moment... you mean it? You actually have the plans?'

'Woo woo wooo!'

At first, Threepio didn't react. His processors were struggling a little bit too. But when it clicked... oh sweet Maker, did it click. His arms shot to the air in celebration, nearly sending himself plummeting backwards.

'Oh Artoo, we did it! We found the plans to the Trigon One after so many years. We can finally destroy that dreadful weapon and return to ground once again!'

He was so overjoyed with the news, he tried to join in on Artoo's little victory dance by jumping around in a circle. Not that he would want anyone to know. The keyword here being 'try'. He bounced about for all of two seconds before he fell back down face-first onto the floor.

Artoo stopped dancing immediately. 'Woah! Bippa bid?'

Thanks to his joints being free of sand, Threepio could now move his limbs around enough to get onto his hands and knees.

'Of course I'm alright, Artoo. Now I can get off this infernal dust ball and return to the ship!'

He grabbed his blaster, and pushed the differently-coloured buttons on the side of it in a specific order that he had memorised.

He noticed the astromech staring at him. 'You see Artoo, there's a reason why this blaster is so important. My masters were nice enough - for once - to give it a secondary function. That is, to signal when I have found the plans. If I were to use it without returning with the plans... well, I'm sure you know what happens to rogue droids.'

Artoo didn't care about the blaster's secondary functions. He wasn't even looking at the weapon. His attention fell purely on the Protocol droid.

Was his new friend really going to leave him so quickly? Of course, he wanted Threepio to be able to go back to his apparently much more comfortable home, but so soon?

And would Artoo himself be able to come along?

'I hope this faulty distress signal works. I wouldn't put it past my careless masters if it didn't work at all.'

Author Notes - To make the plot a little more 'Star Wars-y', I changed the MacGuffin from a plant to (what else?) the plans to a dangerous weapon.

For those who never saw the Droids cartoon, Sise Fromm and his Trigon One are from the first few episodes of that show. Sise Fromm was stated to be 900 years old. Jord, Thall, and Kea were also from that arc.