A Greek Beauty

A cheering, gleeful throng of technicians, mechanics, and other inhabitants of theAlliance headquarters swarmed around each fighter as it touched down and taxied intothe temple hangar. Several of the other surviving pilots had already vacated theirships and were waiting to greet Luke. On the opposite side of the fighter, the crowd was far smaller and morerestrained. It consisted of a couple of technicians and one tall, humanoid 'droid whowatched worriedly as the humans mounted the scorched fighter and lifted a badlyburned metal hulk from its back. "Oh, my! Artoo?" Threepio pleaded, bending close to the carbonized robot."Can you hear me? Say something." His unwinking gaze turned to one of thetechs. "You can repair him, can't you?" "We'll do our best." The man studied the vaporized metal, the danglingcomponents. "He's taken a terrible beating."
"You must repair him! Sir, if any of my circuits or modules will help, I'llgladly donate them…" they moved slowly away, oblivious to the noise and excitement around them.Between robots and the humans who repaired them there existed a very specialrelationship. Each partook a little of the other and sometimes the dividing linebetween man and machine was more blurred than many would admit.