First aid

Who mended Artoo after the battle for the bunker on Endor?

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"Commander Antilles! Commander Antilles!"

There are times when you realise why Han Solo calls Princess Leia's protocol droid the most annoying droid in the galaxy – not to mention the names he calls it when he's not sober, of course. All droids have fairly tinny voices, but C3P0's is just uniquely nerve-riling. Especially when your war's apparently just ended, and your battle's over, and you've barely got out of your X-wing and still haven't managed to find anyone you know in the crowds of knee-high furry things that inhabit this moon and are exuberantly friendly.

Umph! Yes, okay, little thing. Hey there.

That's the third one to hug me round the knees in as many minutes.

"Commander Antilles! Artoo-detoo has been damaged!"

Who's been wha–? Shavit! Sith-hells! Or, to use Luke's charming expression for when he really wants to swear but the Princess is around – Sand!

I was going to say where's Solo or the Princess or Luke – but all that matters right now is that Luke isn't around! His beloved droid has taken a fairly nasty blaster hit, and he may be a super-calm Jedi or whatever now, but he'd still be pretty upset if he saw the state of Artoo now. Heck, even Mon Mothma or the Ice Princess at her iciest would be pretty upset!

"Artoo? Artoo?" Okay, maybe victory does funny things to your mind, because now I'm kneeling on a mossy forest floor, tapping the dome of a limp-looking astromech and calling to it in a tone which wouldn't be out of place in a soppy holovid.

Get a grip, Wedge.

I turn on Threepio. "Where are the tech facilities?" If we move quick, maybe we can at least get some sort of temporary repair done before Luke finds us. But Threepio flaps his hands.

"I'm sorry," he says. "These Ewoks are a very primitive society. They don't really have any sort of advanced technological development. In fact, they were so surprised to see me that they-"

Fled in terror, I imagine, but I haven't time to listen to it now. I flap my own hands at him to get him to shut up. "Fine. Have we got some spare parts? And where are Captain Solo and Chewbacca?"

I've watched them keep that amazing ship the Princess calls a bucket of bolts in full flying order since Yavin. This is only a blaster-struck astromech – they should be well capable of jerrying him back together.

Threepio practically wrings his hands this time. "I'm very sorry. Chewbacca is overseeing the evacuation of the prisoners with General Calrissian-"

Great. He's out of it, then.

"-and General Solo and the Princess went off together that way." Threepio points off along a secluded looking sort of path winding away into the forest. "I don't think General Solo would be at all pleased if I went after them."

I bet he wouldn't. Neither would Rogue Squadron. They're going to be broke if this battle hasn't finally got the Princess and Solo together.

"There are some Imperial speeders over there, if you can salvage any spare parts from them," Threepio announces.

He looks at me rather expectantly, as if I'm supposed to be pleased at this useless after-thought. What good are parts if there's no-one to do the tech work?

"Master Luke would be most upset to see Artoo in such a state..."

Had I a fellow Rogue around, I'd be taking bets on whether it'll be Luke over Artoo or Solo over the dent Calrissian's left in his Falcon who countsas more Upset. Not on who'll shout louder, mark you. That one's long since settled.

But I haven't a fellow Rogue. Nothing but these Ewok things and an expectant looking Threepio and a fellow Rogue's very zapped, limp astromech. Heck! Rogues don't let each other down. The least I can do is prise his dome off and see what's happened.

Fortunately, whatever's happened has caused Artoo to stick everything out. While that means a lethal buzz-saw flopping below his unresponsive power button, it also means the hydro-spanner at the back of his storage drawer. Threepio hovers around as I start unscrewing.

"Oh, Commander Antilles! It was so terrible! Artoo was hit by a blaster just as he was unlocking the back door to the shield bunker, and I thought we were never going to get in there on time! He seemed to short-circuit..."

Tune him out. I presume it's what the Princess does, since she doesn't keep him permanently shut down or gagged. And blaster damage isn't all that's happened to Artoo since I last met him. Someone's pretty crudely drilled and bolted something onto his dome at some point, and not filled the holes when they took it off again.

"...and the hatch lifted to show..."

Bingo! Dome off, blackened innards, distinct essence of – wood smoke?

Yep, wood smoke. Don't ask … but someone seems to have gently smoked out the inside of this droid. It makes everything look much worse, all being blackened, but the actual blaster damage is a crack in the dome (cosmetic) and a couple of burnt out power flux cables joining the main power supply unit to his central processor. Simple enough – also a bit major. I just hope it hasn't affected his memory. Luke prefers his astromech with all its emotional baggage. The Rogues gave up betting on when he'd give in and have it memory-wiped long before we left Hoth – no knowing when he last had it done. 'Since the Galactic Republic' is the outside limit, given that Luke shares his birthday with Princess Leia on Empire Day.

How'd I know? Not telling. We, the Rogues, just – found it out. Gave them a smashing double party the first year after Yavin. Everybody happily legless, though it didn't solve the Princess/smuggler situation like some people hoped it might. Man, I hope this battle has. I'm going to be flat broke for months if it hasn't. Okay, never mind. Let's see if imperial speeders have frontal power flux cables you can jerry off with a hydrospanner.

Threepio comes toddling after me. "Commander Antilles! Commander Antilles! If any of my parts would be of any use, I would gladly donate them!"

Do I look like I want to dismantle more droids? Besides, if I can't get Artoo fixed, it'll only be Luke getting upset about Imperial damage to his droid. If I pry Threepio apart, I'll find myself explaining to the Princess why I dismembered her Alderaani protocol droid without so much as a by-your-leave.

"That's very kind of you..."

He might speak however many million forms of communication he's always chirping on about, but Threepio doesn't really do sarcasm. He stands there, twittering on about the battle and the Ewoks and Mon Mothma knows what else, while I start tearing these speeder engines apart. Thank all powers that be, they do indeed have power flux cables. I'm just glad I'm not the tech who's going to be trying to repair them after me. A wampa might have made a neater job.

Okay, back to Artoo. A small crowd of Ewoks follows at a safe distance, yub-yubbing at me and, for some reason, humming at Threepio. I'm beginning to feel I'm in the middle of an infant school outing. "Can you tell them to clear off for a bit?"

"Oh, Commander Antilles, they're only wanting to know if they can help in any way?"

Definitely the infant school outing... But if they're not technologically advanced, how are they meant to help in any way?

"Solvent wipes!" I suggest with a sudden brain wave. It would help if I could get some of this smoke-black off and actually see what I was wiring in.

I don't speak six million forms of communication, but I can see the Ewoks look blank as Threepio translates. "A rag, then? With a drop of alcohol on it?" Heck – we've just won a major battle! Somebody's got to have a bottle of something powerful to celebrate with!

The Ewoks, apparently. And, whoof! Powerful? If droids can't get drunk on alcohol fumes, it's not going to be for want of trying. I'm feeling cheerier and whoever next sticks their head inside Artoo to do the proper repair is certainly going to get jolly.

Right now. Cable; Artoo; one end in place. Is there any point in telling Threepio that if I get fried fixing this cable in, he's to tell the Rogues to get rip-roaring drunk on my share of the betting pool? No, but I flag him over anyway. "Hold his saw blade!" The squadron would never let me live it down if I lost fingers to Luke's astromech.

Ready? Steady? Stand by!

Bleep! Whizz-whizz-click! Brr-rr-bloop!

Hey! Power on, lights flash, tools retract!

Buzz-whirr-whirr-buzz!

He's working! But that's not the only thing that matters. I crouch down and tap his data screen, like Luke does. "Artoo?"

Bip-bip?

"You feeling OK?"

Bleep whirrup bleep!

Good. Swallow hard. Million credit question: "Still remember who Luke is?"

Bleep bleep whirrup fuzz bleep!

"Oh, Artoo! I'm so glad you're fully functional again! I really couldn't get along without you!"

Perhaps that's why the Princess puts up with Threepio – there are, it seems, odd times that he is rather sweet. Artoo seems to think so too, for he burbles back happily as I screw his dome on again. Then, with a thousand thanks that I wave short from Threepio, they're off down the path together.

"... and I knew Commander Antilles would be able to help..."

Yeah, right. I'm a battle hardened veteran, I've just blown up the Empire's biggest weapon, and it's two battered old droids who are making me smile.

So what? They're hardly going to tell the Rogues. And if they do? A day like today, they'll drink it off in an hour or so. I'm going to find someone to report to. And get out of my flight suit. And find a glass of that Ewok ale for myself.

And I'm not particularly fussed which order I'm going to do those in.

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A/N: hurt/comfort, I suppose!