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In Good Hands

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The organic unit known commonly as “Finn,” formerly FN-2187 of the First Order, strode swiftly along, in all probability on another errand for General Organa. Finn was clutching at a data reader and weaving in and out of the bustling busyness of the D’Qar Base main hangar. He did not seem to notice the other droids or organic units around him. Or the many pairs of covetous eyes following his progress across the hangar.

 

My organic unit’s eyes were among the pairs attuned to Finn’s form.

 

Sighing as sight of Finn was momentarily occluded by several large, laughing organic units—collectively known as Ja’aloaquins, but individually unknown to me—my organic unit, the Human Poe Dameron leaned against our X-wing, one hand on his chest as if to somehow aid respiration. In his other hand were the wrench and sonic screwdriver with which he had been making necessary repairs to our X-wing.

 

They appeared to be merest seconds from slipping out of his hand, to land on his right foot.

 

I alerted him to this fact, only to be ignored. Only my quick thinking allowed me to catch the wrench and screwdriver as they fell.

 

This distraction—most notable in the presence of the organic unit, Finn, but also to be noted when another mentioned the Human’s name in my Human’s presence—had to be rectified. I had not spoken of it to Poe, presuming that my Human’s natural gregariousness and forwardness would lead him to seek out the Human, Finn, for courtship and eventual mating, as he had with so many other organic units he’d found attractive.

 

But this Human, this . . . Finn . . . was . . . different, somehow.

 

In what way he was different was not immediately obvious, beyond his symmetrical attractiveness and overall pleasant, if intermittently sarcastic disposition. Attempting to look at the Human through my Human’s eyes, I catalogued “Finn,” as a collection of physical attributes:

 

Dark brown skin and eyes, short, extremely curly hair, high cheekbones, and a full mouth that was more often than not smiling made for an aesthetically pleasing face. Coupled with that was a tall, lean build—a runner’s build, as I had seen during that unfortunate business on Jakku—that hinted at both speed and dexterity.

 

All of these features added up not only to my Human’s “type,” but to its apotheosis.

 

Sighing, myself, I extended my work arm to Poe, who again, did not notice me proffering the tools he had dropped in deference to his obsession with Finn.

 

[Are you quite certain you are in a fit state to continue repairs to this X-wing?]

 

Now, Poe at last turned his attention from Finn, who had disappeared on the left side of a large transport. He did not reappear on the right side, so it was likely that his errand for the general had taken him to Commander Nedel’s and Lieutenant Orrik’s shared office. Which happened to be right next to the office my Human shared with Lieutenant Yeesu.

 

“Whaddaya mean am I in a fit state to continue repairs?” Poe asked, frowning. “I’m as fit as I was when we started fifteen minutes ago.”

 

[I beg to differ.]

 

“Do you, now?” Poe laughed, squatting till we were at eye- and optical sensor-level. He took the tools from my work arm pincers. “And why is that?”

 

I performed a body scan of Poe, quick and unobtrusive. [Because your temperature is elevated, as is your blood pressure and hormone levels. Pheromone levels have been raised exponentially and you appear to be partially erect. Also—]

 

“Force save me—shut up!” Poe exclaimed, standing up and looking around at the same time that he yanked his olive-drab sweater down to his pelvis so hard, I was surprised that the material did not rip.

 

When it was obvious that no one else was paying us any attention, my Human looked down at me, his face set in a scowl. “If I’m—partially anything, that’s none of your business, BB-8!” he hissed.

 

[It most certainly is when you are distracted while fixing the X-wing in which we must both travel.]

 

Poe gaped at me, and I took his uncharacteristic silence as an opportunity to go on.

 

[This unusual trouble you have approaching and courting the Human, Finn, is bothersome to me for several reasons. I would see this matter resolved before we are assigned a new mission.]

 

“What?” Poe demanded rather shrilly, despite his lowered voice. “What’s, ah, what’s Finn got to do with anything?”

 

To that, I did not even bother to reply. I merely extended my work arm, and pointed at his partial erection with one of my pincers. Poe squeaked and twisted away from me, one leg crossed over the other.

 

“BB-8!”

 

[Staring at Finn as he walks by, distracted with Republic business, will not gain you his favor, Poe Dameron.]

 

Poe opened his mouth to speak, glaring at me . . . then shut it with a heavy sigh, the anger in his face smoothing into an expression of frustration and sadness. He glanced longingly over at the transport behind which Finn had disappeared.

 

“You’re right. Of course, you’re right, and I know it. But I don’t know what else to do!”

 

[Do what you did when courting the other organic units you successfully mated with.]

 

Poe blushed and laughed rather ruefully. “You don’t understand, BB-8, Finn isn’t like the other, uh, organic units I’ve successfully mated with.”

 

[Of course he is not like them. Not yet. You have not mated with him.]

 

“Could—couldja stop saying mated with?” Poe moaned. “And that’s not the only reason Finn is different! I mean—he’s—special. He’s funny and smart and brave—he saved my life, BB-8, and risked his life to save the galaxy.”

 

[But you do that on every mission we are assigned to.]

 

“Yeah, but . . . Finn was a Stormtrooper. He was raised to be, well, evil. But he fought it. Fought his conditioning. Made up his mind to do the right thing. And he followed through. Over and over.” My human sighed yet again, his eyes closing for a few moments before opening again. They seemed melancholy and self-mocking. “Not to mention he’s simply the most gorgeous man I’ve ever laid eyes on, and I’d give my left testicle just to kiss him.”

 

[That seems counterproductive,] I said doubtfully. Poe snorted.

 

“It’s just a figure of speech, BB-8.”

 

One of those. Human speech was so complicated. Just when I was certain I had working knowledge of its idiosyncrasies, my Human or some other Human sprung another delightful “figure of speech” on me.

 

Just another complication. And indeed, what were Humans more known for than their love of complicating everything, from their interactions, to their use of the Force?

 

[Humans—organics make mating too complicated. Merely insert external sexual organs into internal sexual organs, and—]


"BB-8, that's not exactly how—" Poe began quietly, glancing around us again and blushing brightly.

 

[You wish to mate with the Human, Finn, do you not?]

 

“Well. . . .”


[THEN INSERT EXTERNAL SEXUAL ORGANS INTO INTERNAL SEXUAL ORGANS AND—] I repeated myself, only louder, in case my Human had not heard me the first time I’d said it.

 

Poe responded by going to his knees and putting his hand over my audio output. "Force save me—where are you even finding this information, BB-8?!"


[AND THEN PROCEED WITH AGITATION.] I beeped, especially loud, since I doubted my Human would be able to hear me otherwise, with his hand covering my output.


Poe groaned, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. "That’s it. You're not allowed near the other pilots anymore."

 

[Why?]

 

“Because you pick up . . . weird and uncouth ideas from them,” Poe explained, his cheeks and ears bright red.

 

[What is weird and uncouth about courtship and mating?]

 

“Nothing! It’s just—”

 

[You wish to insert your sexual apparatus into the Human, Finn’s, body, do you not?]

 

“Yes! Okay? If I admit it, will you let it go?” Poe demanded loudly, throwing up his hands.

 

I thought it over carefully.

 

[No,] I finally replied, and Poe groaned again, leaning back against the X-wing.

 

“BB-8, c’mon. . . .”

 

[You are my Human. I am responsible for your welfare and happiness.]

 

“That’s just it, buddy, you’re not.” Poe shook his head sadly. “I’m responsible for my own welfare and happiness.”

 

[You are not doing a terribly good job. For instance, if that blue wire remains connected to the thermal coupler, the X-wing will explode upon take-off.] I pointed with my work arm.

 

What? Oh, shit!” Poe glanced around at the open panel next to him and hurriedly repaired the mistake his distraction had let him make, muttering and swearing to himself the whole time.

 

When he was done, he turned to face me again, grinning almost sheepishly. “Thanks, BB-8.”

 

[No thanks are necessary. As I have said: I am here to look out for your welfare. And your happiness.]

 

Poe’s smile turned bitter. “Well, I’m sorry, but you can’t make me happy. Hell, even I can’t make me happy. Only one thing’ll make me happy.”

 

A motion caught my optical sensor and I glanced briefly over to the front of the X-wing, then back at my Human. [And what would that be? Tell me specifically what would make you happy.]

 

Poe leaned his head back against the X-wing’s hull, his eyes rolling up to the distant ceiling. “What would make me happy, huh?” He snorted again. “Nothing more or less than Finn. In my bed, in my arms, in my life. That’d make me the happiest man in the galaxy. In all the galaxies.”

 

[Why have you not told the Human, Finn, this?]

 

“Because! I mean, Finn’s not interested in me!” Poe said, looking back down from the ceiling, his eyes angry again. “He’s not even into—”

 

“Uh, hey, Poe.”

 

Starting, Poe jumped to his feet as the Human, Finn, stepped forward from the front of the X-wing, his dark eyes wide. In his left hand was the data reader, and his right hand was shoved in his pocket.

 

“Oh! Hey, uh, Finn! How’s it going?” Poe asked in a breathless rush, grinning so widely, it must have hurt his face. And the blush must have been uncomfortable, as well, so deep was it.

 

“It goes,” the Human, Finn said, shrugging and smiling a little. He glanced at me and his smile widened. “Hello, BB-8.”

 

[Greetings, Finn. In the interests of saving time and possibly lives, would you perhaps be interested in letting my Human, as the other pilots say, ‘tap that’?]

 

“BB-8!” Poe exploded, turning to me with wide, shocked eyes and an O-shaped gape. Then he shook his head and turned to Finn, grinning once more, but nervously, this time. “I mean, uh, the things droids say, huh? All meaningless beeps and boops. Jibberish.”

 

“Indeed,” the Human, Finn, agreed mildly, glancing at me again. “And for the record, BB-8, Poe could’ve been tapping that two months ago.”

 

His gaze flicked to Poe, who was gaping once more, his eyes wider than ever. They looked to be in danger of falling out. “I could’ve done what in the who, now?”

 

“Anyway, Commander Nedel wanted me to pass this along to you, from General Organa. Looks like you and BB-8 are flying another mission with Black Squad and Yellow Squad.” The Human, Finn, held out the data reader to Poe, who took it with a hand that shook, his gaze never leaving Finn’s face.

 

For long moments they simply stared at each other, the data reader held between them. Then Finn smiled at Poe, who returned it uncertainly as the other Human let go of the reader.

 

“Whuh. . . .” Poe said, then shook his head and closed his mouth. Then he was speaking again. “Uh, that is, would you, uh, like to come to dinner in my quarters, tonight?”

 

Finn’s smile turned into a wide, white grin. “I’d be delighted.”

 

And they stared at each other for another minute and thirty-seven point two seconds, before Finn cleared his throat and glanced at me, then back at Poe. “See you guys at dinner?”

 

“Well, me, yeah. BB-8’s got, uh, stuff to do. Across the Base. Way across the Base.” Poe said, waving his hand in a northwesterly direction.

 

[I am not aware of any duties scheduled on the other side of the—] I didn’t finish the statement because Poe kicked out at me. I, of course, darted out of the way, then shocked him with my electric prod. He jumped and yelped, glaring at me.

 

The Human, Finn, still smiling, watched all this, then bit his bottom lip. “Well, I look forward to seeing you tonight, Poe. And BB-8 . . . I’ll see you in the morning.”

 

And with that, the Human, Finn strode away.

 

Leaving me to gaze up at my Human, who was smiling as he watched Finn walk away.

 

“In the morning, indeed. I hate to see him leave, but Force save me . . . I love to watch him walk away,” Poe sighed then, after Finn was out of sight, looked at me. “You’re okay bunking with C-3PO tonight, right?”

 

[He talks entirely too much while I am trying to recharge and defrag.]

 

My Human patted me on the head absently, already looking at the data reader. “That’s nice. You two’ll have fun together. And Finn and me’ll have some fun together, too.”

 

Of that, I had no doubt. Humans love to mate frequently—Poe, more frequently than most. Or at least he had before he met the Human, Finn. Since then, he had not mated with anyone.

 

Perhaps he no longer had a desire to mate with simply anyone. Perhaps his desires were now focused exclusively on the Human, Finn.

 

I fear I shall never completely be able to predict Humans’ actions or understand their motives. But at least my Human was happy, again.

 

And so, while Poe read the details of the mission out loud to me—with many a distracted, dazed, and delighted pause to stare into the distance, in the direction Finn had gone—I continued where he left off patching up the X-wing.

 

As I worked, I realized that my personal mission in regards to my Human had changed.

 

It was still up to me to look after Poe’s welfare, yes, but his happiness . . . that, it appeared, would now fall under the Human, Finn’s purview.

 

I sensed, with something quite beyond my logic and programming, that Finn was more than up to the challenge, and would relish living up to it.

 

Yes . . . between the two of us, Poe Dameron would be in good hands, indeed.

 

END