Luke, did I ever tell you about R4-P17? She was my metallic robot pilot, a fine piece of hardware from a more civilized age. She had the roundest body and the shiniest little electro-shock prod in the galaxy; barely legal in most systems. Anakin and I used to perform maintenance on her at the end of every successful campaign during the Clone Wars, and once in a while we’d even have the entire 501st run a diagnostic on her, part of official Clone “training” of course. In time, she learned how to handle a starfighter better than anyone in the GAR. She sat in the fighter every day so we told her there were no legs in space, and since she was constantly doing barrel rolls you’d get a glimpse of her robotic dome mid fight as she’d do a spin while blasting a Buzz Droid into bits. It was surreal. We installed her weapon forwards like a taser and she constantly got attacked by Jawas and Scavengers almost every other day. It was ridiculous, like a constant pain in the ass Luke, you have no idea. And she was a good friend.