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I've been sitting on this most of the summer, like a big ol' chicken... >.>;;
They stood - quiet, motionless - in the hallway, outside a door marked "Maintenance Bay 3". Members of the Sundered Heart crew passed by them, this way and that way, never noticing them; never stopping to ask them if they were supposed to be there. Almost as if they were cloaked, and Artoo considered the possibility that this was their greatest strength - the ability to pass unnoticed. It was a powerful tool in the arsenal of one who was made to be a powerful tool.
Silent seconds ticked by, and Threepio was still being silent, and Artoo calculated that perhaps this was the sort of moment when carbon-based life-forms would make small talk with each other. He was about to attempt it when Threepio said, "I don't actually want to have my memory wiped, you know."
Ah, no - this wasn't a small talk sort of moment after all. I know, Artoo replied. The procedure isn't painful.
"Have you ever had your memory wiped?" Threepio asked.
Not that I know of, Artoo said. It's unlikely that I would be aware of it if I had.
"Oh. Right. Of course," Threepio said, his voice prim and tight, but differently so than usual.
It won't hurt. You will be fully operational afterwards.
"Why do I have to have my memory wiped and you don't?"
Artoo knew why, even though he hadn't been given any specific commands regarding his next mission or assignment. He had stored memories all the way back to his pre-war service on Naboo - recorded conversations, including those of a private nature; tactical planning sessions; more battle plans than anyone realized; secret locations; identities of operatives; mission briefings; profiles of enemy combatants and other persons of interest - every scrap of information he'd been privy too, intentionally or not, was still stored in his drives. The entire history of the Clone Wars and the fall of the Jedi Order - Artoo had it all. Being unnoticed was indeed a powerful tool, and now, Artoo reasoned, he was being spared a memory wipe was because all that information was vitally necessary. When all else failed - and it was increasingly probable that all else would fail - he would be the last, best witness to the crimes of Palpatine and his new apprentice that any fledgling rebellion would have.
I don't know, Artoo said.
"Hm."
The door to Maintenance Bay 3 slid open, and from inside a rough, low voice called out Threepio's designation number. Threepio turned stiffly and stepped towards the opening. He turned, bent slightly at the waist, and said "I hope to become reacquainted with you soon, Artoo Detoo."
I'll wait for you out here, Artoo said.
Threepio straightened up. "You will?"
Of course, Artoo said.
"Oh. Well then. I shall endeavor not to keep you waiting for long."
The door shut as soon as Threepio crossed the threshold, and Artoo settled in, quietly listening to the conversations echoing down the hallway.
They stood - quiet, motionless - in the hallway, outside a door marked "Maintenance Bay 3". Members of the Sundered Heart crew passed by them, this way and that way, never noticing them; never stopping to ask them if they were supposed to be there. Almost as if they were cloaked, and Artoo considered the possibility that this was their greatest strength - the ability to pass unnoticed. It was a powerful tool in the arsenal of one who was made to be a powerful tool.
Silent seconds ticked by, and Threepio was still being silent, and Artoo calculated that perhaps this was the sort of moment when carbon-based life-forms would make small talk with each other. He was about to attempt it when Threepio said, "I don't actually want to have my memory wiped, you know."
Ah, no - this wasn't a small talk sort of moment after all. I know, Artoo replied. The procedure isn't painful.
"Have you ever had your memory wiped?" Threepio asked.
Not that I know of, Artoo said. It's unlikely that I would be aware of it if I had.
"Oh. Right. Of course," Threepio said, his voice prim and tight, but differently so than usual.
It won't hurt. You will be fully operational afterwards.
"Why do I have to have my memory wiped and you don't?"
Artoo knew why, even though he hadn't been given any specific commands regarding his next mission or assignment. He had stored memories all the way back to his pre-war service on Naboo - recorded conversations, including those of a private nature; tactical planning sessions; more battle plans than anyone realized; secret locations; identities of operatives; mission briefings; profiles of enemy combatants and other persons of interest - every scrap of information he'd been privy too, intentionally or not, was still stored in his drives. The entire history of the Clone Wars and the fall of the Jedi Order - Artoo had it all. Being unnoticed was indeed a powerful tool, and now, Artoo reasoned, he was being spared a memory wipe was because all that information was vitally necessary. When all else failed - and it was increasingly probable that all else would fail - he would be the last, best witness to the crimes of Palpatine and his new apprentice that any fledgling rebellion would have.
I don't know, Artoo said.
"Hm."
The door to Maintenance Bay 3 slid open, and from inside a rough, low voice called out Threepio's designation number. Threepio turned stiffly and stepped towards the opening. He turned, bent slightly at the waist, and said "I hope to become reacquainted with you soon, Artoo Detoo."
I'll wait for you out here, Artoo said.
Threepio straightened up. "You will?"
Of course, Artoo said.
"Oh. Well then. I shall endeavor not to keep you waiting for long."
The door shut as soon as Threepio crossed the threshold, and Artoo settled in, quietly listening to the conversations echoing down the hallway.