Something grabbed Luke’s shoulder and spun him around.
"Hey" Looking around and struggling to regain his composure, he found himself staring up at an enormous, scruffy-looking human. Luke saw by the man’s clothing that he must be the bartender, if not the owner of this cantina.
"We don’t serve their kind in here," the glaring form growled.
"What?" Luke replied dumbly. He still hadn’t recovered from his sudden submergence into the cultures of several dozen races. It was rather different from the poolroom behind the Anchorhead power station. "Your ’droids," the bartender explained impatiently, gesturing with a thick thumb. Luke peered in the indicated direction, to see Artoo and Threepio standing quietly nearby. "They’ll have to wait outside. We don’t serve them in here. I only carry stuff for organics, not," he concluded with an expression of distaste, "mechanicals." Luke didn’t like the idea of kicking Threepio and Artoo out, but he didn’t know how else to deal with the problem. The bartender didn’t appear to be the sort who would readily respond to reason, and when he looked around for old Ben, Luke saw that he was locked in deep conversation with one of the Corellians.
Meanwhile, the discussion had attracted the attention of several especially gruesome-looking types who happened to be clustered within hearing range. Al were regarding Luke and the two ’droids in a decidedly unfriendly fashion.
"Yes, of course," Luke said, realizing this wasn’t the time or place to force the issue of ’droid rights. "I’m sorry." He looked over at Threepio. "You’d better stay outside with the speeder. We don’t want any trouble in here." "I heartily agree with you, sir," Threepio said, his gaze traveling past Luke and the bartender to take in the unfriendly stares at the bar. "I don’t feel the need for lubrication at the moment anyway." With Artoo waddling in his wake, the tall robot hastily headed for the exit.
责任编辑：mman
