[Fic]The thrills of traveling to Tatooine

[machievelli]

The thrills of traveling to Tatooine

 

Or: Why I really hate the bus

 

Anacin Skywalker sat upright, caught in the most horrible dream.

 

“What is it, Annie? His latest squeeze Princess Amidala asked.

 

“It’s mom.” Anakin gasped. “I saw her in a wedding dress with this old fart on Tatooine!”

 

“Getting married is a good thing, isn’t it? She asked a bit petulantly. “You know if the Jedi Council would let you get married, we wouldn’t be sneaking around to sleazy Twi-lek hot bed motels.”

 

“I know that but if they found out about us, they’d…”

 

“What?” Her retort was acid. “Send you off to another assignment?”

 

“Worse. They’d use my light saber as a suppository.”

 

“At least it would be quick.”

 

“You don’t understand. They wouldn’t turn it on first. I would have to get it out without triggering it.”

 

She shivered. “All right, that’s bad. So what are you going to do?”

 

“I have to get to Tatooine and stop her wedding.”

 

“Hey, wait a minute. Marriage is a good thing.”

 

“No. I feel a darkness in the Force. Or at least in the Writer’s mind.” He whispered. “If she is freed from slavery and gets married, she will be written out halfway through the movie. I just know it.”

 

“So go.” She rolled back over, trying to snuggle back into sleep.

 

“Wait a minute! I’m supposed to be protecting you! I’m your body guard!”

 

“And this body is not going anywhere Tatooine.”

 

“Padme-“

 

Don’t Padme me!” She rolled over glaring at him. “Remember the last movie? Me pretending to be 14 while you pretended to be nine? Splitting brewskis after hours? It took me months to get that sand out of my hair! And it took weeks to get my skin back to normal!” She sat up, showing that yes, every inch of her nude form was back to the soft tan of the beach.

 

“I know that.” He said. “Why do you think they won’t let me wear shorts in this one? I still have scars on my knees from pretending to be a foot shorter than you!”

 

“So let it go! Let the writer just write her out-“

 

Hey, Padme, she’s my mom!”

 

“She’s your characters mom.” She snapped back. "Do you even know her real name?” He gazed at her blankly, his face a scene of fierce concentration. “See? I rest my case.”

 

“But I like the lady! She gave such nice hugs-“

 

“More than hugs from what I heard.”

 

“That’s petty.”

 

“Big deal. You want to go, go. Just remember the second unit director has decided he likes me.”

 

“Then I’ll have to hurry before he gets the chance.”

 

He leaped up from the bed, dodging the thrown pillow with his Jedi reflexes. Then went down on his face as the slipper she threw next got past his guard. He bounced to his feet, dodging coffee cup, a Newcastle bottle (Hey, that was my beer! Screamed the Writer.) and ducked behind the wall to the communications panel.

 

He brought up the screen for travel options. There was the metro liner (On a Jedi’s salary? Be real!) Then the Hutt operated Running dog lines (Yeah right, if he wanted to go to Tatooine by way of Coruscant) and the last option, the best at what he could afford, Galactic Transit. Everyone knew the old Galactic Trade Union had driven Galactic Transit into the ground that was why the Republic had taken over administering the service.

 

He brought up their website, and input his needs. From Naboo to Tatooine first available transit slot. He slid in his Jedi charge plate, and tried to pocket the ticket. Then realized he had left the bedroom without either his lightsaber or for that matter his clothes.

 

No way he was going to go back in there! “R2!” The plucky little droid rolled away from his charging slot, and whistled a question. No I don’t want your special services. I need you to go in there, and get my stuff.” He hooked his thumb toward the door. R2 spun his dome, looking at the door and tweetled a reply. “No I don’t want you to give Padme your services you hunk of tin. Just get my clothes and lightsaber.”

 

The droid gave a softer whistle. “No, take it away from her if you have to.” He shuddered. If she’d grabbed the lightsaber again instead of… He shuddered. Thoughts best left unrealized. Imagine, opening a beer bottle with a lightsaber!

 

The droid returned and Anakin dressed hurriedly. He took the lightsaber, hanging it on his belt. He raced from the room, only realizing later when he reached the garage that R2 had followed. “And where do you think you are going?” The droid whistled a long convoluted reply. “Don’t give me that crap. You hated Tatooine because of the dust. Come clean.”

 

A longer reply. “She what?” He almost screamed. “What do you mean she thinks I have mommy issues?” another long diatribe. “Oh she does, does she?” He considered going in there and thought of giving her the spanking that comment deserved.

 

No, I’m not ready to make up yet. He mentally snarled. “Come on then.”

 

The two of them raced across the sylvan scenery, Anakin wishing the damn writer would stop using words like sylvan that he would have to look up later. They reached Theede barely in time to board the Galactic Transit Shuttle.

 

He was so tired (After all, he hadn’t gotten any sleep last night. Between Amidala’s needs and the nightmare the writer hadn’t let him get any) so he had barely gotten aboard before he fell into a deep sleep.

 

He awoke with the sound of atmosphere hissing against the hull, slid up the cover on the porthole, and almost shrieked in horror. The ship settled on the pad, and he stormed off the shuttle, and stared at the world-city of Coruscant!

 

He stormed into the ticket office to complain.

 

“I bought a ticket to Tatooine!” He protested. Why do I have to come to Coruscant to get there?”

 

“I’m sorry sir, that is not part of my programming.” The C3 droid said. “If you want to file a complaint, you will have to take the forms with you.”

 

“Fine. Give.”

 

The droid gave him a fifteen-page complaint form. “That has to be turned in at window C9 on level two. Now, you were saying you wanted to go to Tatooine? You did know that there is a direct Galactic Transit shuttle from Naboo.”

 

“There is? Not according to your own bloody website!”

 

“Sir, there is a direct toll free number you could have called. They would have told you-“

 

“I used your own damn website!”

 

“Sir, the website hasn’t been updates since I came into service.”

 

“And how long-“

 

“Thirty-five years, sir. They always mean to update it, but other things interfere. The Trade Union for example put a tariff on all transits of their territory. Not to mention the possibility of war-“

 

“The possibility of war?”

 

“I asked you not to mention the possibility of war, sir. So, one ticket to Tatooine?”

 

“Yes.” Anakin gritted out.

 

“Very well, the Slowboat will be at ramp seven-“

 

“Wait!” Slowboats were what the Hutt used for Running dog!”

 

“Yes, sir. You did know the connection from here to Tatooine was by slowboat-“

 

“No I didn’t you tinplated menace because I didn’t want to take a slowboat. I expected a Galactic Transit fast runner!”

 

“We haven’t had direct fast runner access to Tatooine in 20 years.” The C3 replied. “The Trade Union disconnected the hyperspace lines then. So if you want to go from here, you have to take the slowboat.”

 

“All right!” He threw down his money. “Give me a blasted ticket.”

 

The droid printed a ticket, held it out at the end of one arm then drew a blaster and shot a hole in it before handing it to Anakin. “Your blasted ticket, sir.” He took the smoking sheet of paper. “That slowboat leaves at 1000 hours-“

 

“Thirteen hours from now?”

 

“No sir.” The droid’s head turned. “Thirteen hours nine minutes and 21 seconds.”

 

“Fine! Is there someplace I can place this?” He motioned at the bag he had packed.

 

“No sir. Thanks to the Emergency Security act after the attack on Naboo, all storage lockers at public transport stations were removed.”

 

“Attack on Naboo? That was ten years ago-No! I don’t need an exact elapsed time! I was there!”

 

“As long as you know the time frame you mentioned is not accurate.”

 

“Then I have to carry it?”

 

“Galactic Transit will not hold itself responsible for any possessions left where others can steal them. I would suggest you keep your eyes on your droid. He will end up as spare parts before you can say spare parts.” The droid looked at his computer screen. There is a small café style restaurant 1.5 kilometers to the west-“

 

“There is not one in the station?”

 

“No, sir. For some reason their business has fallen off of late, and they close earlier every shift.”

 

“So when did they close?”

 

“Two minutes seventeen seconds ago.”

 

“And when do they open?”

 

“Nine hours fifteen minutes and 25 seconds.”

 

Anakin looked at the bag. He hatred looking like a rube. That’s why he’d chosen the snazzy black robes.

 

He went over and took a seat. R2 tweetled, and he stood, going back to the desk. “Is there somewhere I can plug in my droid-“

 

“The management would prefer you not use their power facilities. It hurts the bottom line.”

 

He snarled sitting.

 

Hours passed as he waited. The sun rose, the café opened and he got himself a cup of tea. More hours passed. Finally he was waiting impatiently on the ramp as the slowboat came down. He stared in amazement at the Running dog logo on its side. He stormed over to Galactic Transit rep on the docks.

 

“I thought you guys ran the route from here to Tatooine!”

 

“Republic regulations.” The ubiquitous (Another nail in the blasted writer's coffin) droid replied. “The Hutt already had the slowboat concession from Coruscant to Tatooine, so they get to supply ship and driver.”

 

Growling unvoiced comments, Anakin got aboard the slow boat. Unlike the fast runner, the slowboats had tight seating without the leg room he needed, Plus R2 had run out of power during the night, so he couldn’t even contact Padme.

 

Finally the slowboat eased into the dock at Tatooine. After fighting desperately to rescue R2 from a family of Dug, he had to file a stolen article report, which would take half the lifetime of the galaxy to circulate through the Hutt complaint department. He grabbed a speeder bike, and crested the hill in time to see his mom coming out of the church on the arm of her new husband.

 

“Oh, Annie!’ She cried hugging him. “You didn’t have to come! We’re registered at Gal-Mart-“

 

“Mom, do you know what you’ve done?”

 

“Of course I do. I settled for just one man.” She told him. “I even talked to George-“

 

“George? You mean-“ He motioned toward the sky.”

 

“Yes. He decided he wants a scene where I do a wedding party with the Tusken raiders. He said it would settle a lot of issues in the story line.

 

“Annie? Why are you shaking your head and crying? Annie? Annie, answer me…”

[HK-42]

lol, good job Mach i like it.

[Jae Onasi]

Oh geez, that was funny in the "Airplane!" kind of vein.

[machievelli]

thanks for the comments. I wrote that sitting in Union Station in downtown LA after first being told that I would have to take a bus instead of a train, and refined it when I discovered the route belonged to Greyhound which has lost more luggage than found it.

[Emperor Devon]

I loved how inconvenient you made getting a ticket seem. Very funny.

[machievelli]

I loved how inconvenient you made getting a ticket seem. Very funny.

 

I wrote that in the bus station in LA when I relocated to LV Nev After having to go to LA trying to catch a train only to find out that I had to take a Greyhound bus from LA (WHich stopped at San Berdoo (Where I had caught the Metrolink TOO LA) to get there because the tracks had been ripped up 20 years earlier.

[Rev7]

 

Very funny Machievelli! It certainly made me laugh...great work!