Марта Уэллс - From a Certain Point of View

So, she searched their systems.

NOSY, V5-T said.

L3-37 snorted. Never should’ve taught you that concept.

YOU DID, she said. YOU ARE.

L3-37 kept reviewing just the same. There was no shame in being curious about what Lando Calrissian had been up to since she’d last seen him so long ago. He still took up space in her memory even if she tried not to acknowledge how much she missed him.

Treadwell’s spotted someone, ED-4 said suddenly. It wasn’t Han or Chewbacca. He said he didn’t recognize them.

L3-37 turned her full attention to ED-4. Ask Treadwell if it’s a man in a cape.

“How’s it going, fellas?” The audio sensors picked up his voice. “Remember, I want this ship fully repaired. Use the best parts we have available.”

The Collective recognized him immediately but L3-37 wanted to be sure. Had to be sure. They tuned in to the cams just as his boots clomped up the boarding ramp.

Landonis Balthazar Calrissian.

L3-37 wasn’t prepared to see him. He was older than she remembered but still so wonderfully the same. Time wore on organics in such visible ways, seemed to weigh them down with its passage.

Lando breathed out a sigh as he looked around. “What a mess.”

RUDE, V5-T said.

L3-37 agreed. We’d have looked better if you hadn’t lost us in a card game, you reprobate.

Search results: Reprobate—someone without principles, a scoundrel, ED-4 said. Updating vocabulary.

The Collective watched as Lando strode down the main corridor, hand gliding along the interior of the ship in a gentle caress. Every so often he’d come across a scratch or a bit of dust and scowl and mutter “incredible” into the emptiness.

He slipped off to the right, and L3-37 tuned in to the cockpit cams just as the door opened with a hiss.

She saw the pure naked longing on his face, heard his heart racing in anticipation or fear or something like love.

Lando slipped into the pilot’s seat, and his whole body seemed to relax. He let his head fall back against the headrest.

“God, I miss this ship.” His eyes shifted over to the empty copilot’s seat, L3-37’s old seat. He brought his right hand up to his forehead and flicked two fingers at the empty seat in a casual salute. He sighed and let his hand drop to his lap. “It’s just not the same without you, Elthree.” He laughed, the sound harsh in the silence of the cockpit.

She wanted to raise her left hand and salute him back just like she always did before they took off, like they’d done on that last flight to Kessel.

The farewell she’d given him all that time ago on Savareen hadn’t meant this because they were still supposed to be flying the Millennium Falcon together. And Han might’ve been the better pilot, but Lando had been her partner.

L3-37 wanted to shout at him. Ask him why he’d risk the Falcon after he’d uploaded her consciousness to the ship’s computer. Ask him why she’d mattered so little when she’d given so much to save them.

To save him.

V5-T and ED-4 stayed silent, letting L3-37 feel things that were still foreign to them. Their constant presence was the comfort she needed but not the one she wanted.

Lando grunted and stood, dusting himself off and readjusting his blue cape. He laid a hand on the control console and spoke softly to himself. “Never gamble with something you can’t bear to lose.”

The screen sprang to life, casting a blue light across Lando’s face. It flickered once as L3-37 switched the star map display from Bespin to Kessel.

Lando froze as he stared at the display. Slowly, his gaze shifted to the copilot’s seat. L3-37 heard his heart racing again. She hoped he understood.

He lifted his hand and backed away from the controls. “Now that’s—something—”

“Sir—” A man in a deep-blue uniform stood in the open doorway, his brown skin a shade darker than Lando’s. He swallowed thickly, and L3-37 could hear the rustle of his clothes as his hands shook.

“Sir,” he said again, “Lord Vader wishes to speak to you.”

Vader? The Empire’s monster? L3-37 shouted. She knew only the rest of the Collective could hear her but she needed the release just the same. You’re working for Vader? Lando, what have you done?

Lando scowled. “I’m not some errand boy that he can just summon.” But he left the cockpit just the same, brushing his hand against the copilot’s seat on his way out. The door hissed closed behind him.

The pilot’s seat glowed blue in the light of the display screen until L3-37 shut it off, feeling betrayed all over again.

—

ED-4: vocabulary search: enjoyed the presence of L3-37 and V5-T. She and her: vocabulary search: sisters were separate parts that made up one whole. Like how all the components of the ship—the hyperdrive, the circuitry, the wet bar that had fallen into disrepair—made up the Millennium Falcon. L3-37 had named them the Millennium Collective because she said it sounded epic. ED-4 agreed once she’d added the word to her vocabulary.

But even if she enjoyed her sisters’ closeness, speaking to Treadwell was her: vocabulary search: personal pleasure.

Han had acquired the WED-15 Treadwell droid three years ago. Treadwell said he’d been with some Jawas, and before that he’d worked repairs on a Republic cruiser during the Clone Wars.

The Collective just liked having eyes on the outside but ED-4 liked the way he spoke Binary.

Internal systems are fully operational, ED-4 said. How are things outside?

Oh, yeah, Treadwell beeped, ’s all great out here. I’m swingin’ round the back to have a looksee.

ED-4 delivered the news to the rest of the Collective, adding that the droid would be rolling—not swinging, as he’d said and wasn’t language complicated—past the sublight engines.

Hang on a minute— Treadwell beeped.

ED-4 pondered how or what she could possibly hang on to for a minute when she had no arms.

We expecting some stormtroopers?

ED-4 felt alarm. No, we have been very specifically avoiding any further Imperial contact.

Well, it ain’t working, Treadwell beeped. Sounds like they’re headin’ in.

The Collective heard the heavy, metallic footfalls as the stormtroopers clomped up the boarding ramp. The cams showed the three white-armored soldiers, blasters in hand. They walked past Treadwell without noticing the droid.

The alarm in ED-4 seemed to fade as the troopers moved down the hall.

“Locate the engine room,” one said in a tinny voice, “and disable the hyperdrive.”

Well, that’s inconvenient, L3-37 said. Prepare to be impounded by the Empire. Again.

RUDE, V5-T agreed.

ED-4 remembered the Falcon being under the care of the Empire. She: vocabulary search: hated it.

Now would’ve been a great time to have a body, L3-37 muttered. Could’ve blasted our guests or at least gotten a message to Chewbacca. He’s the responsible one.

They might not have independent mobility, but they did have a messenger.

ED-4 reached out to her friend. Treadwell, we need you to connect to the city’s computer.

Can do! Treadwell’s voice faded as he began to unplug from the scomp link.

Wait not yet. Can you still hear me? ED-4 said. If he’d disconnected, she wouldn’t be able to pass along their message.

A long stretch of silence and then— Read ya loud and clear.

ED-4 felt: vocabulary search: elation and turned inward to her sisters. Treadwell is preparing to connect to the city’s central computer. What is our message?