Captain’s Log, Stardate, oh wait, that’s pajama boy stuff.
Mos Eisley Spaceport. No where in the galaxy is there a greater den of inequity, except maybe DS9. It is an ugly spaceport, on an ugly planet, littered with the worst sorts of scum, villainy and gremmies, along with the occasional down-and-out surf bum. The place definitely reminds me of DS9, right down to the bar with the neon lights flashing “Quark’s”. Quark’s? What the heck. I needed a drink, and maybe it was possible to get a pint or five of Guinness in this berg.
As I approached the door to Quark’s, the little R2 unit trailing behind me, I noticed a sign next to the door; it read: “The right to buy booze is the right to get drunk.” Sounds like a plan to me. I walked into the place and was immediately amazed at how much it resembled Quark’s on DS9, right down to Quark behind the bar serving up Epsilon Sunrises to Morn. I sidled up to the bar, looking around cautiously. It was weird. The R2 made some odd beep-beep sounds.
Quark strolled up to me, said, “What do you think, Kahuna?”
“I didn’t know you had two bars, let alone worked both of them yourself.”
“Nope. One bar only. Same one you always go to.”
“But I was at Mos Eisley Spaceport,” I said.
“Yep. The Doctor has been helping me set up some new technology borrowed from the Weapon Shops. Pretty cool, eh.”
I must have looked a bit perplexed.
“Weapon Shops technology. Doorways on other worlds leading to Quark’s on the DS9 Promenade. What a way to increase business,” Quark elaborated.
“I thought they only made weapons for self defense,” I managed to say.
“Nope. You’d be amazed at what they have,” Quark responded. He pulled a pint of Guinness, set the glass in front of me, then filled a shot glass with Tribble Sweat, setting it next to the pint. “What’s with the R2 unit,” Quark asked. “Selling it?”
“No, claims to be the property of a Rocky-wan Viterbo. I’m thinking maybe Rambo Viterbo might know him,” I explained. The R2 unit squealed some more, whirled around and rolled off towards the far side of the bar. There, I could see, sat a rough looking dude with scruffy black hair and sporting a goatee. He was wearing a leather biker’s vest, but no shirt, and I could tell that his torso, as well as his arms, were heavily tattoed.
Quark followed my gaze and said, “Well, there’s your chance to find out…that’s Rambo Viterbo over there.”
I followed the R2 unit over to Viterbo, said, “This R2 unit seems to think he belongs to someone named Rocky-wan Viterbo. I thought he might be a relative of yours”
“That’s a name I haven’t used in a long time,” he said. He took a long pull from his pint of Guinness, looked the droid over,, continued, “I don’t ever recall owning a fancy little droid like that. Or any droid, for that matter. Now, if you had shown up here with Grumman Albatross, that could be another story.”
Viterbo looked the droid over; the droid buzzed and beeped some more and then the projection of the holographic woman appeared again. This time it was not the shortened loop that I saw before.
“General Viterbo. You are the last of the Jedi Tea Patriots. The Republic is rapidly being dismantled by the Emperor and his dark lords. Inside this R2 unit are the plans to not only prevent further erosion of our People’s Liberties, but to put the government back to within its Constitutional limits. It is imperative that these plans be delivered to the Tea Party Patriots in Congress. Help us Rocky-wan Viterbo. You are our only hope.” The image faded.
“Well,” Viterbo said, “it looks like I need to take a trip to Alderaan. Wanna come along? Might get some good surfing in while we’re there. We’ll take my ship.”
I figured, what the heck. I could always have Kamehameha follow along with the Kowabunga cloaked.
Kahuna out.
