Defective Wallets. -- Starbase Rugby: Tankup's Bar

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Date Posted: 18:40:42 10/04/02 Fri
Author: Llamatron
Subject: Defective Wallets.
In reply to: 'Bug 's message, "Legend of the Black Hand." on 19:24:46 09/20/02 Fri

After a few failed attempts the slightly confused Llamatron managed to find a gap in the crowd opposite a bartender bot.

"Good evening to you, you fine..." The Llama tailed off as he looked up and down the stainless steel serving drone. "... finely polished serving unit. I'd like a quart of your finest oil. No, make it two! Buy yourself one!"

"Credit Required"

"Come on, haven't you heard of a tab, chrome nuts?"

"Term Not Found. Credit Required."

"Is this because I'm furry? Are you disrespecting the Fur?!" Llamatron's voice raised. Even the serve-bot realised it was standing on the edge of a dangerous precipice. It backed off slightly.

"Customer - Potentially Dangerous." It reached for an intercom. The parched Maximal put his hands up and backed off, slouching into a sleep opposite a large Panda Maximal.

"Hey, what's wrong there lil buddy?"

"Ooooh, everything!" Llamatron waved his hands round expressively.

"Being stalked by an as yet unrevealed and anonymous menace?"

"Er... no."

"Singularly responsable for yet another galactic invasion, or stopping one?"

"Not that I recall."

"Really? You'd be surprised how often we get that around here. Host to a bizarre incorporeal parasitic lifeform that feeds on emotions?"

"Don't think so, unless you count this headache."

"Cursed by a mysterious destiny that not even your script writer has figured out yet?"

"Say what?"

"All I'm saying is that things could be worse, you know?"

"You think? Check this out... Llama Mode!" Llamatron folded up into his beast mode and shock off the remaining damp.

"Oh, that's rough buddy. I'd spot you a tankard myself, but we've all got to cut back at the moment," comiserated the Panda-bot pointing to a nearby TV screen with a feline female Predacon presenting the news.

"... and in other news, Rugby Shares continue to fall after the recent events at T'orros. Captain Howitzers earlier statement made it clear he intended to take a hardline at the terrorists."

Llamatron looked solomnley at the screen, then back at the Panda.

"Well I don't know about you, but that looks suspiciously like too much plot for my good. I'm going to look about for a job."

"Try the station Message Service - they're usually advertising for staff." Llamatron nodded and clip-clopped over to a nearby wall station. He started to poke at the keyboard with a cloven hoof until he realised he was still in beast mode.

"Llamatron - Maximise!"

The Llama reared up on it's hindlegs and unfolded into a golden robot with furry brown panneling and resumed browsing.

"Engineering - Boring. Bar work - no way. Command Staff - as if. Hmm, now this is more like it..." He focused on the last job vancancy on the list, then began typing.

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