The sound of his serial number being called made R2 jerk. He nearly knocked over a pile of datapads lifting his helm—when had he let it drop?—to look in dismay at the mess in front of him.
He couldn’t remember when he’d fallen into recharge, but his HUD flashed with sickly warnings of low energy levels.
Behind those, older alerts about spark stability and system stresses had piled up, and now filled his vision with a dull yellow haze.
The medic had told him the warnings would stop soon if he ignored them, so R2 dismissed them all.
“R2071, I called for you,” the voice repeated. R2 winced. When he turned around, Shockswitch was looming over him. “Shall I repeat myself a third time?”
“No sir,” R2 stammered. His mentor did not look pleased with him, so he scrambled for his work. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep, I was doing the work you wanted, but I think—“
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