Bad Droid

________________________________________

Flic's prized droid goes missing only to return several months later with a new 'unique' modification.

Classic Sci-Fi fan fiction with a twist. In the first draft I made the protagonist a man, the droid a woman and used mostly conventional/boring heterosexual relationships. Then it came to me in dream that it would things would be more interesting to make nearly all of the characters female and set it lesbian dominated world.

I hope you enjoy.

________________________________________

My name is Flic Varm and I own a moisture farm on Tatooine. The farm is situated outside a little outpost 200 Km north of Mos Eisley. The farm has been in my family for years. My grandparents were all brought to Tatooine and enslaved to work on the grand old, 10,000-hectar municipal moister farm that kept Mos Eisley wet by their old master way back in the days of the Republic. Both my mother and father were born here.

When the Republic fell, my father and his friends on the farm decided they didn't like being slaves, so one night they decided they had enough and killed their masters. Come the next day, they split the grand old farm up amongst themselves, and my father was the new owner of a moister farm.

Over the next thirty years my father—with the help of my twin sister Jackie and I—helped grow the business into a sizable operation. We expanded the moisture farm to nearly two thousand hectares, which gave us enough water to set up a profitable fruit and vegetables business on the side. At the time, the Imperials had their hands full with the Rebellion, so they never bothered us much. And early on, my father cut a good deal with the Hutts to provide them with all the fresh fruits and vegetables they could eat at a fair price.

When Jabba died and the Empire fell, things got a bit iffy again. Everyone and their womp rat wanted to seize power, but this time my sister and I stepped up. We helped organize a syndicate of local concerned business owners like ourselves to make sure things didn't get out of hand. Later we helped broker an off-the-books agreement between the New Republic and the Hutts that allowed trade to keep flowing between our little part of Tatooine and the rest of the Galaxy.

When my father died, my sister and I inherited the farm. My sister had always hated the place and wanted to go see the galaxy, so I bought out her half of the business and helped her set up her own shipping business out of Mos Eisley. She now owns five ships, employs a crew of twenty and has never been happier.

As for me, by the time my fortieth birthday rolled around, I was neck deep in work. I just bought an adjacent 1,500-hectare moister farm from an older lady whose husband had died a few years back. All of her children were off planet and the few farm hands she had weren't the best. She approached me about selling, and even offered me great terms, because she knew all the work it would require to repair her neglected systems.

And she was right. The farm was a mess. Most of her pumps and equipment hadn't seen any maintenance in years and all of her bots were old, disorganized and badly programmed. A couple of her farm hands were alright, and I kept them on, but most I had to fire.

I had been working 18-hour days for about a month just trying to plug all of the leaks and was just about to set about with the gargantuan task of updating all of the pumps' software when my wife Teela saw that I was drowning.

With my sister Jackie's help, together they bought me a brand new R2 astromech droid. It was beautiful. All blue and chrome, and amazingly smart. It instantly understood what I was trying to do with the new farm. Within a week it had single handedly reprogrammed and updated all the thousands of pumps, processors and bots needed to keep the new farm going. Once it finished that, it did the same for my old farm and then it set out to develop a strategy on how to integrate both farms. In R2's first month alone, she had increased over all water production by 35%, which is huge on a desert planet which really shouldn't support life at all.

In fact, things were going so well that when a couple months later when my sister asked if I wanted to go out on a supply run to the next system over, I jumped on the offer. I hadn't left the planet in years and now, thanks to my beautiful R2 unit, I could take a vacation.

A few days later, I was sitting in the co-pilots seat on my sister's ship with a drink in hand while we jumped through hyperspace. I loved it. It was so nice to get away from all the sand, dust and responsibility.

By the time we made it to our destination, 18 hours later, I was good and drunk. The place where we landed was nothing special. It was a grubby little space port, clinging to a rock on the edge of the galaxy, but the locals were friendly enough and the alcohol was good and strong. We had to wait a couple days to organize the return loads, so we headed over to the local cantina.

Over the next three days we drank, we swore, and harassed the locals. It was exactly what I needed.

On the morning that we were about to leave I got a message from my wife. An unseasonably large dust storm had kicked up and had engulfed much of the North. As a precaution, R2 had shut down all of the nonessential production on the farm until the storm blew over. Otherwise, she said "things were fine, don't worry and enjoy my trip."

Much later that day we jumped back into the Tatooine system. "Holy Shit!" Gasped Jackie on first seeing the size of the dust storm that had engulfed much of the Tatooine's northern hemisphere.

When we landed it was very late, and the sky was unusually dark as the dust blotted out the stars. I fired off a quick message to my wife to let her know that I was back on planet. She didn't respond, but it was very late, so I didn't worry about it. I then put in a call to my R2. Droids don't sleep and I was wondering how such a big storm had affected operations.

My communicator emitted a horrible error buzz that hurt my ear. "Error. User not found." I read off the display.

"That didn't sound good," my sister said as we left the ship.

"Huh? I can't get ahold of my R2."

"Probably the storm. Something that big could easily taken down the comm network," said my sister before she turned to her own droids and began issuing orders.

"Beep, beep, beep," rang my communicator.

It was my wife, "I didn't mean to wake you up, I was just calling to let you know..."

"We have a problem," my wife cut through my chatter. "The new farm just got raided."

"What?" I gasped. "Are you okay? What about the crew?"

"We are fine. No one got hurt, but when that huge dust storm hit, someone made off with a bunch of controllers, pumps, pipes, several of the worker droids and..." she paused, "and your R2."

"What? Who? Have you...?" I sat down heavily on one of the crates that was being unloaded.

"We don't know. There weren't any Jawas in the area. They didn't smash anything up like the Tuskens like to do. If I had to guess it was some of the old farm hands that we fired."

I hate to admit it, but I was a little in shock. I loved that little droid.

Since it was late and the visibility was still bad between the space port and the farm, Jackie insisted on sending me off with two of her women to fly me and my land speeder home.

I really don't remember much of the trip back to my farm. The desert was dark, and the trip took a lot longer than usual. It was nearly dawn by the time we got in.

When we arrived I ran straight for the little charging alcove I had set up for my little droid in our kitchen. And there it was, empty. I would never admit it to anyone, but I cried.

The next month was hell. I was suddenly back to 18-hour days trying to fix all the damage that the raiders caused. From dawn to way beyond dusk, I spent all of my time plugging leaks, reorganizing equipment, and calling in all the favors I could for spare pump equipment from every moisture farmer I knew on the planet.

The one saving grace in all of this was that my now long gone R2 had pulled together an amazing strategy to merge the two farms and all I had to do was implement it.

Months passed and things eventually got better. I eventually managed to fully integrate the two farms which help free up a good deal of resources which helped plug the gaps caused by the loss of equipment. Plus the winter was a little cooler than usual which helped us bring in more water than ever. We also found a couple older droids that we managed to get up to speed on my R2's strategy.

My wife even promised to buy me another R2 when we finally got some more money.

Months later I was down in the pump house enjoying a stiff drink while I watched the reservoir slowly fill when my communicator went off, "Beep, beep, beep."

I checked the number, but I didn't recognize the caller. "Hello?"

"Is this Flic Varm?" asked an older, human sounding woman with a clip, inner world accent.

"Yes it is. Who's this?"

"This is Commander Astro of the New Republic Garrison in Mos Eisley. Did you report an R2 unit stolen several months back?"

"Yes I did."

"Blue and Chrome, and in good shape?" She asked.

I jumped to my feet, "Yes, that sounds like her. Why? Did you find her?"

"Did..." She trailed off for a second, "...did yours have any 'special modifications' done to it?"

"What?" I was confused as to what she was getting at. "Well, no, I don't think so. She did have some specialist software and plugs installed that allowed her to interact with the pumps on the moister farm. Is that what you are asking?"

"No. I don't think that would explain this," responded the Commander. "I know that its late and you are up in that wadi up north, but is there any chance I can get you to come down and see me at the garrison?"

"Tonight?"

"Yes," she said flatly.

"That would be tough."

"I know, but the last thing I want to do is leave your droid rolling around the garrison any longer than I have to."

I was honestly confused, "Huh? I don't understand."

"You will. Please come get your droid," she said before cutting the com channel.

I left the pump house and after some looking around found Teela out feeding the animals. I told her about the conversation I just had with the commander from the garrison.

"Why can't you wait until tomorrow to go down?" she asked confused.

"I don't know." We stood there looking at each other for a minute.

"Well, hurry up and get on the road while there still a little light in the sky," she jabbed a finger to the skyline as the last sliver of the two suns poked over the horizon.

Two hours later my land speeder crested the last hill outside of Mos Eisley and I was briefly treated to a beautiful view of the city below. I adjusted course and headed toward the sprawling complex of cantinas, launch pads and warehouses that made up the space port. A few minutes later I pulled up and stopped in front of the imposing old stone fortress that now housed the New Republic garrison. A few years ago, this place would have been crawling with Imperial storm troopers, but now it was almost deserted.

The entrance to the garrison was protected by a large menacing portico and manned by several young women in New Republic uniforms. The space port was a terrible place to leave anything that wasn't tied down, especially at night, so I parked my land speeder as close as I could to the entrance of the building.

"Hey, you can't park that here," shouted a stout girl with a laser rifle slung across her lap.

I turned off the engine and carefully climbed out of my speeder. "I got an appointment with your commander. Where can I find her?"

This cause the stout girl to take a step back and lower her rifle a little, "This late?" she questioned, before slowly starting to raise her rifle again.

The other nearby guard, quickly reached out and placed a hand on the stout girl's rifle barrel and then turned to me, "are you the lady with the R2 unit?"

"That would be me." I set my jaw.

The two girls quickly shot each other a look that was hard to read in the dark of the space port.

"Right this way ma'am," the other guard motioned for me to follow her. She quickly led me into the garrison. The place was shockingly empty. Under the Empire there would have been a good 500 storm troopers stationed here, but now there were only a fraction of that.

We passed countless darken rooms until we made our way up to the second level and to the office of the New Republic's garrison commander here in Mos Eisley.

The guard knocked on the door and an older, grey hair woman in uniform looked up from the stack of paperwork and holo-reports that littered her desk.

"What is it?" she asked in a gravelly, inner world accent.

"Sorry to bother you Commander Astro, but the woman for the R2 unit is here." The guard gave me an awkward nod and stepped aside.

The Commander stood up and slowly walked around the desk. Straight away I noticed that from her mid right thigh down was missing, and had been replaced with a thin black, robotic femur, knee and foot unit. It was clear that this woman had seen more than her fair share of combat over the years. She extended her paw of a right hand. "Ms. Varm, it's good to meet you. I'm Commander Astro. Please come in and have a seat." She motioned to a nice leather chair to the across from her desk, before she turned to the guard. "Can you grab me some clean glasses and cold water from the cantina."

"Yes Ma'am," answered the guard before she shot out the door.

"Commander Astro, what's this all about? Why did you call me down here?" I shot back a little more rude than I should have.

Commander Astro held up her hands in the air, "Please Ms. Varm, take a seat. I'm still getting used to my new leg implant and the doctor doesn't want me standing too long on it." She motioned to the chair again before, she sat herself heavily back down in her chair.

I sat down in the chair she offered. Before I could demand more information about my R2, the guard who was a little winded burst back through the door with a full pitcher of ice water and two clean drinking glasses.

"Here you go Ma'am," said the guard.

The Commander gave her an approving nod, "Perfect, now close the door on your way out."

The guard promptly did a 180 degree turn and left.

"I would offer you some of our finest New Republic water, but I'm fairly certain we bought it from you," Commander Astro joked, as she filled up both glasses and handed one to me.

I accepted the glass and took a big, cool drink. "Thank you. How did you lose the leg?"

Commander Astro drained her glass and went back for seconds before responding, "I was a jump commander for a bunch of years. Then a couple months back we were tasked with clearing out an old Imperial camp full of holdouts. The fighting was tough. We were at it for hours. And just before we took out the last of them, one of them caught me with a laser cannon. It took the lower half of my leg clean off, and a bad infection took my knee. Now I have this," She knocked on her new robotic leg and it made a dull metallic noise. "And a new desk job as garrison Commander."

"I'm sorry to hear about your leg," I offered.

"Oh, don't be. The wife is happier here now that we are off ship. Plus, the work is interesting. I've been trying to get out and meet as many of the different trade guild leaders as possible. In fact, I was already planning a trip up North to meet with the moisture farm guild in a couple weeks, but here you are."

"I can help you with that visit. But first, what's this about? You didn't call me all the way down here to talk about your trip, did you?"

"No, no." She fiddled with her glass for a moment, turning it round and round on her desk. "We found your missing R2 unit."

"What?" I shot up. "Where is it? What happened to it?" I demanded.

She motioned for me to sit back down. "First, and please don't be mad, I must ask you some questions." She held up a hand as an apology before I shot off any more questions.

"When did you say you got your R2 unit?"

"About six months ago. My wife bought it for my birthday."

"And when did you lose it?"

"During the first night of that huge dust storm that engulfed half the planet. I'm sure all of this is in the report we filed," I said as I jabbed a finger at the com pad on her desk.

"I know, I know. I've read your report," apologized the Commander before she took a big drink. "And..." she paused again and puffed out her cheeks trying to figure out how to say what she needed to say. "Did your droid have any 'special modifications' made to it?"

"What do you mean 'Special,' I asked suspiciously.

"Like anything, please Ms. Varm," said the Commander.

I sat back trying to figure out what she was getting at, "Well, just some specialist software updates and a new plug where she could interface better with the old pump systems."

"Nothing else?" The commander eyed me carefully.

"No, nothing else commander. Now where is my droid?"

Suddenly from the closed closet in the corner of the room there came a high pitched, electronic wheeze followed by a series of beeps.

"My droid! You found her!"

The Commander frowned at my use of the pronoun before she sighed and picked up the restraining bolt controls off of her desk and keyed in her access code.

"You fitted my droid with a restraining bolt?" I asked a little indignant.

"Trust me, we had too. It was as much for our protection, as it was for...his."

The door to the closet popped open and out rolled my blue and chrome R2 unit. My heart leapt and I nearly cried.

R2 gave off an excited high pitched squeal and rocked back and forth on her wheels.

Without thinking, I jumped up and ran towards her. Part of me never expected to see her again, or if I did, she would have been cut up into parts. But here she was, all shiny and new. I squatted down in front of my little droid and she eagerly beeped away. I ran my hand all over her front facing sensors and big lenses just to satisfy myself that she was well.

Then I ran my hand over her smooth, round chrome top. There wasn't as much as a single dent on her. Then my hand ran further back until it hit something...something warm, heavy and hairy!

I recoiled at the touch and fell backwards onto my ass.

My R2 gave a concerned sound and rolled forward to assist.

Before I could even start to make sense of what was going on, the commander was on her feet. She slipped one of her huge hands under my armpit and helped me to my feet.

"What? What is it?" I stammered out.

"You better take a seat for this one," the Commander suggested as she sat down on the corner of her desk.

Once I was seated, the commander spoke, "R2, please rotate around."

Without complaint, the R2 spun 180 degrees and let off a long low, almost seductive noise.

"No!" I gasped.

"Yeah," signed the commander.

There on the back of my R2 someone had grafted a huge blue, veiny cock easily the size of my forearm. Just below that dangled a blue furry balls sack filled with three huge balls.

As I sat there dumb founded over what I was seeing, R2 began to make soft, low electric moan as she, or maybe now he, slowly rocked back and forth, which caused his cock to move like a pendulum.

"That's enough," said the Commander and she reengaged the restraining bolt. Without complaint, R2 quietly backed its way into corner and spun itself.

"I hate to have to ask this Ms. Varm, but is this one of your special modifications?"

"No," I sat there dumbfounded.

The commander let out a sigh, then stood up and moved back to her chair again. "Would you like something stronger to drink?"

"Yes please."

The commander quickly fished out a bottle from her desk and poured a thick brown liquid into both of our cups.