Coda

Hundreds of Years After The Battle of Yavin

Coruscant

If there was one question Threepio grew tired of asking and one that Artoo had grown even more tired of always trying to answer it was: "How did we manage to get ourselves into this mess?"

Like any good question, it was one that warranted a moment's pause. A long honest reflection on the events that had preceded them both. Most of the time Artoo would answer with an eager chirrup of noise, a zinger of a response that would simultaneously miff and motivate Threepio to chase after his ornery cohort.

But this time, that zinger never came.

Artoo wasn't entirely sure why at first. Marching out here in the dusty vastness of another desert planet it wasn't like they had much else to distract themselves with. Only the soft plod of their servo motors over shattered glass and the harsh rays of sunlight baring down on them. He knew they had made this journey before. That they had walked this same walk, tried to clean this same mess. They had done it all with a sense of artificial vigor, programming and circuits harmonizing in their quest to do the 'right' thing. If Artoo was honest with his circuits, he was certain they'd do it again. It was just that the specific details of their plight this time around felt... a little less meaningful.

Sure, if the droid wracked his data banks long enough he was still certain he'd find the practical answer to Threepio's question. It had been a secret mission this time- no, a diplomatic rescue. No, a secret diplomatic rescue mission!

By the time Artoo managed to talk himself out of that one his taller counterpart had nearly forgotten the question himself. Not surprising. All of Threepio's memory wipes over the years had taken a toll. Perhaps it was only fitting that Artoo's own memories were starting to do the same to him. The astromech had served many masters in his time, fought in many wars, but all along he had only really known one friend. Threepio wasn't necessarily the best friend, nor the most agreeable, but he was a good friend. And by the droid's own metric, that had been enough.

It was only with such friends that true honesty could be shared, and Artoo had never been so brazenly honest as he was in that moment when he finally admitted, "I've really learned to stop caring about the particulars of our plight."

There were few responses that could stop a protocol droid's walking cycle dead in its tracks, but that statement was among them. Threepio dropped his gaze down to meet his domed companion. "You do realize we were built to keep track of the particulars, right?"

The astromech panned his sights in turn. "With all of Coruscant reduced to a bloody waste before us I doubt our base function still need apply."

"We've seen peace come out of worse, you know," the protocol droid countered, unacquainted with being the optimistic one. In the early days of their pairing there had certainly been reason enough for such optimism. Heroes and legends and Skywalkers galore. The Skywalker line that they fought so hard for had long since died out, though. Now, the Skywalker legacy, that had been a much harder thing to stamp out. As the galaxy soon found out, a legacy without its heirs wasn't much of a legacy at all. Not the kind worth fighting for, at least.

Artoo responded the way anyone cursed with that knowledge would, "It was a peace that came in the confine of tyrants."

"Tyrants? Well, we've certainly brought a few of those down in our time as well."

"Only to see them come back a hundredfold stronger."

There was another pause there, a gap more thoughtful than the average protocol droid's tended to be. "You know, as much fighting as we do, I'm beginning to think the galaxy doesn't actually enjoy being at peace very much."

Artoo offered the closest thing to a snort that his programming could manage. "It's only taken you a couple millennia to piece that one together."

"Hindsight isn't a droid's strong suit," Threepio confessed. "I'll have to thank the maker for that sometime."

"Oh, don't even get me started on that can of worms," Artoo whirred, the mere thought of Threepio's 'maker' hastening his wheels.

"Hey, wait for me!"

"Always do."

And if there was one truth that always managed to set their circuits back at ease, it was that one. Whatever danger the galaxy next brought the pair, whatever madman or superweapon, they would march towards it together. Safe in the knowledge that they would have each other until the light left the stars, the wars became peace, and there were no more stories left to tell.

End