Subject: Lobot's First Gig - A Brief Untold Tale
Date: 10 Oct 1999 02:35:02 GMT
From: ted3000@aol.com (Ted Ehlers)
Organization: AOL http://www.aol.com
Newsgroups: rec.arts.sf.starwars.misc

Episode I: Landing Permits are for Fools

It was early morning on that dustball.

I hate to say this old Tatooine chiche, but the twin suns Tatoo I
and Tatoo II were searing the yellow sands of the Hundland Wastes
with a quickness. I knew this because I was slogging my way to
Anchorhead after my hyperdrive-modified tripple pod Cloud Car
had some rather serious problems.

I had been en route to make sure Jabba the Hutt stayed out of
gas smuggling for good. It negotiations failed, maybe a
well-placed tab of Corellian NeuroFlex would do the trick.

Nothing lethal, just something psychoactive to induce
successful negotions.

My ship, total power drain. No comlink to call for help!
And didn't you know the Tatooine Shipping Authority
don't support HeadNet. A savage place in every way!

My name is Lobot. I'm a cyborg, ladies man, and businessman.

It was midday before I reached town. A crowd was drawing at the Mos
Espa Arena for a pod race sponsored by Jabba. Thousands of
overdressed scum were steaming into the gates, paying 5 creds cover-
charge and betting who knows what else. Frakkin' Boonta Eve is for
bantha-muckers and worse.

"If Jabba's so rich..." I thought "He'd be out of the suns, maybe kicking
it back on a nice planet like Ord Mantell. Watch comets and drink
that lovely Crystal Water." Or maybe that's me. I hoped that's
what my scowl conveyed, looking for someone with a brain.

I saw my in, a half-assembled Protocol unit spotted my dislike of the
scene. He shambled up to me, servo's whirring through the dust.

"Excuse me, sir, but I noticed that you appear to be a cyborg."

"That's right. 50 percent organic, 50 percent droid."

The robot seemed to relax a bit after that.

"I've never met a cyborg in person. Just from Master Anakin's datatapes and
holovids." He seemed suddenly embarrased he was
opening up, perhaps. He looked at the swelling flotsam of creatures.

I take it your're not here for the races." he asked.

"No, strictly on a mission of business. My ship is crashed in the wastes."

"Oh, that's terrible! There's nasty Jawas and sandpeople out there. Is
it secure?"

"It's locked, that's about it." I said, taking in the crowd.

"Oh, how rude of me! My portool circuits must be getting rusty. I
am See-Threepio, human-cyborg relations."

"Name's Lobot. I work for Cloud City, sort of an ambassador, some
security and systems maintainance."

"Oh!" The droid perked up yet again. "I know the language of several
transpanted races that live there.... from datatapes."

"See-three, you wanna help me with a problem of mine? I need Hutteese
translating. I can't pay you, but I could.... copy some rare language
datatapes for you."

"I would be happy to oblige. My master is busy preparing for the race, I have
several hours before my colorguard duties will have to be filled."

Finally, after all that marching, a bit o luck.

It was time to find me a Hutt.

To Be Continued....

"Cue Hallucinotronic Spypunk Soundtrack for the Summer of Evol."