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She leaned away to show him a dubious look. “I’ve heard that before.”

He raised her hand and kissed the palm. “Tuck that in your pocket for later on.”

Scooping up his pack, he made for the sky bridge without looking back.

Elsewhere in the Solo apartment, C-3PO and R2-D2 were just concluding data upgrades that had obliged them to plug into the HoloNet and newsnet feeds. The 3-D images still shone from the HoloNet projectors, but the two droids were paying more attention to their own internal circuitry than to the displays.

“Events couldn’t possibly have worked out better,” C-3PO was telling his squat counterpart. “Mistress Mara is well on her way to recovery, Master Han has returned home, and the Yuuzhan Vong have suffered a major setback. I couldn’t be more content if I’d just emerged from a refurbishing bath at an exclusive oil spa.”

R2-D2 rotated his hemispherical head and intoned a series of discomfiting chitters and modulating whistles.

C-3PO gazed at him for a moment. “What do you mean, I need to have my neural processor overhauled? What do you know of events that I don’t?”

R2-D2 fluted a reply.

“Master Han has not returned home?”

The astromech droid mewled and directed C-3PO’s attention to a display screen fed by the front entry security cam. The screen showed Master Han crossing the sky bridge in the direction of a public transportation balcony, and Mistress Leia, with the fingertips of one hand to her mouth, watching him leave.

“Oh, dear, you’re right. But perhaps he’s only going on an errand.”

R2-D2 warbled truculently.

“Well, how should I know why he has his travel pack with him or why Mistress Leia appears dismayed? I’m certain there’s a reasonable explanation.”

R2-D2 loosed a lengthy and haughty chirrup.

“What’s that you say? The New Republic was tricked into thinking it was victorious at Ord Mantell?” C-3PO adopted an akimbo posture. “I don’t know where you’re receiving your information, but I suggest you pay closer attention to what’s going on around you, and stop spending so much time plugged into the HoloNet.”

R2-D2 rotated his head to the newsnet hologram, where real-time images beamed in from a Mid Rim world showed droids of all variety hurrying to escape a riotous mob bent on destroying them.

“Oh, my,” C-3PO said in distress, then immediately adopted a peeved tone of voice. “I see that you continue to excel at presenting the worst side of things. But I have some news for those gloomy sensors of yours: No matter what you may choose to parade before my photoreceptors, you will never again hear me express concerns about deactivation.”

R2-D2’s zither approximated a derisive laugh.

“Well, of course you wouldn’t understand what I’m talking about, because you have no awareness that fears of deactivation are the result of unhealthy aspirations for uninterrupted activation. With a bit of detachment, even you will find that all fears disappear.”

R2-D2 razzed.

“You just watch your language, you barrel of bits! And so what if I am beginning to think like a human being. You say that as if it was something negative.”

R2-D2 hooted and toodled in rebuke.

“Oh, so you’re going to remind me of all this when we’re both being melted down for spare parts, are you? What makes you think you’ll be in any position to remind anyone of anything? And just you try, in any case. I’ll have you know that Master Han has promised to store all my memories, so that in the event of the destruction of my metal body, my thoughts and memories could simply be transferred to another—perhaps even to a newer model of the protocol series with the SyntheTech AAA-2 verbobrain.”

R2-D2 issued a razz, the meaning of which was beyond dispute, and rolled off toward the doorway.

“Put a restraining bolt where?” C-3PO said in shock. “Why, I’ve a good mind to forewarn Master Luke that your circuitry is irreparably glitched. Go ahead, roll out on me,” he said to the astromech’s back. “See where it gets you. You’ll soon return, wanting to learn all I know about becoming a real person.”

A sudden flutter brought a quick end to C-3PO’s