Go Back to Script #05.
Go Forward to Script #07.
Return to the Star Wars Sound Script Page.
This page is brought to you by Chris's Room ([email protected])
I got my free web space from Geocities. You can too.
The gargantuan rock formations are shrouded in a strange
foreboding mist and the onimous sounds of unearthly creatures
fill the air. Artoo moves cautiously through the creepy rock
canyon, inadvertently making a loud clicking noise as he goes.
He hears a distant, hard, metallic sound and stops for a
moment. Convinced he is alone, he continues on his way.
In the distance, a pepple tumbles down the steep canyon
wall and a small dark figure darts into the shadows. A little
further up the canyon a slight flicker of light reveals a pair
of eyes in the dark recesses only a few feet from the narrow
path.
The unsuspecting robot waddles along the rugged trail until
suddenly, out of nowhere, a powerful magnetic ray shoots out
of the rocks and engulfs him in an eerie glow. He manages one
short electronic squeak before he topples over onto his back.
His bright computer lights flicker off, then on, then off
again. Out of the rocks scurry three Jawas, no taller than
Artoo. They holster strange and complex weapons as they
cautiously approach the robot. They wear grubby cloaks and
their faces are shrouded so only their glowing eyes can be
seen. They hiss and make odd guttural sounds as they heave the
heavy robot onto their shoulders and carry him off down the
trail.
EXTERIOR: TATOOINE -- ROCK CANYON -- SANDCRAWLER -- SUNSET.
The eight Jawas carry Artoo out of the canyon to a huge
tank-like vehicle the size of a four-story house. They weld a
small disk on the side of Artoo and then put him under a large
tube on the side of the vehicle and the little robot is sucked
into the giant machine.
The filthy little Jawas scurry like rats up small ladders
and enter the main cabin of the behemoth transport.
INTERIOR: SANDCRAWLER -- HOLD AREA.
It is dim inside the hold area of the Sandcrawler. Artoo switches on a small floodlight on his forehead and stumbles around the scrap heap. The narrow beam swings across rusty metal rocket parts and an array of grotesquely twisted and maimed astro-robots. He lets out a pathetic electronic whimper and stumbles off toward what appears to be a door at the end of the chamber.
INTERIOR: SANDCRAWLER -- PRISON AREA.
Artoo enters a wide room with a four-foot ceiling. In the middle of the scrap heap sit a dozen or so robots of various shapes and sizes. Some are engaged in electronic conversation, while others simply mill about. A voice of recognition calls out from the gloom.
THREEPIO: Artoo-Detoo! It's you! It's you!
A battered Threepio scrambles up to Artoo and embraces him.
EXTERIOR: TATOOINE -- ROCK CANYON -- SANDCRAWLER -- SUNSET.
The enormous Sandcrawler lumbers off toward the magnificent twin suns, which are slowly setting over a distant mountain ridge.
EXTERIOR: TATOOINE -- DESERT -- DAY.
Four Imperial stormtroopers mill about in front of the half- buried lifepod that brought Artoo and Threepio to Tatooine. A trooper yells to an officer some distance away.
FIRST TROOPER: Someone was in the pod. The tracks go off in this direction.
A second trooper picks a small bit of metal out of the sand and gives it to the first trooper.
SECOND TROOPER: Look, sir -- droids.
EXTERIOR: TATOOINE -- DUNES.
The Sandcrawler moves slowly down a great sand dune.
INTERIOR: SANDCRAWLER.
Threepio and Artoo noisily bounce along inside the cramped prison chamber. Artoo appears to be shut off.
THREEPIO: Wake up! Wake up!
Suddenly the shaking and bouncing of the Sandcrawler stops, creating quite a commotion among the mechanical men. Threepio's fist bangs the head of Artoo whose computer lights pop on as he begins beeping. At the far end of the long chamber a hatch opens, filling the chamber with blinding white light. a dozen or so Jawas make their way through the odd assortment of robots.
THREEPIO: We're doomed.
A Jawa starts moving toward them.
THREEPIO: Do you think they'll melt us down?
Artoo responds, making beeping sounds.
THREEPIO: Don't shoot! Don't shoot! Will this never end?
EXTERIOR: TATOOINE -- DESERT -- LARS HOMESTEAD -- AFTERNOON.
The Jawas mutter gibberish as they busily line up their
battered captives, including Artoo and Threepio, in front of
the enormous Sandcrawler, which is parked beside a small
homestead consisting of three large holes in the ground
surrounded by several tall moisture vaporators and one small
adobe block house.
The Jawas scurry around fussing over the robots,
straightening them up or brushing some dust from a dented
metallic elbow. The shrouded little creatures smell horribly,
attracting small insects to the dark areas when their mouths
and nostrils should be.
Out of the shadows of a dingy side-building limps Owen
Lars, a large burly man in his mid-fifties. His reddish eyes
are sunken in a dust-covered face. As the farmer carefully
inspects each robot, he is closely followed by his slump-
shouldered nephew, Luke Skywalker. One of the vile little
Jawas walks ahead of the farmer spouting an animated sales
pitch in a queer, unintelligible language.
A voice calls out from one of the huge holes that form the
homestead. Luke goes over to the edge and sees his Aunt Beru
standing in the main courtyard.
BERU: Luke, tell Owen that if he gets a translator to be sure it speaks Bocce.
LUKE: It looks like we don't have much of a choice but I'll remind him.
Luke returns to his uncle as they look over the equipment for sale with the Jawa leader.
OWEN: I have no need for a protocol droid.
THREEPIO: (quickly) Sir -- not in an environment such as this -- that's why I've also been programmed for over thirty secondary functions that...
OWEN: What I really need is a droid that understands the binary language of moisture vaporators.
THREEPIO: Vaporators! Sir -- My first job was programming binary load lifter...very similar to your vaporators. You could say...
OWEN: Do you speak Bocce?
THREEPIO: Of course I can, sir. It's like a second language for me...I'm as fluent in Bocce...
OWEN: All right shut up! (turning to Jawa) I'll take this one.
THREEPIO: Shutting up, sir.
OWEN: Luke, take these two over to the garage, will you? I want you to have both of them cleaned up before dinner.
LUKE: But I was going into Toshi Station to pick up some power converters...
OWEN: You can waste time with your friends when your chores are done. Now come on, get to it!
LUKE: All right, come on! And the red one, come on. Well, come on, Red, let's go.
As the Jawas start to lead the three remaining robots back into the Sandcrawler, Artoo lets out a pathetic little beep and starts after his old friend Threepio. He is restrained by a slimy Jawa, who zaps him with a control box.
Owen is negotiating with the head Jawa. Luke and the two robots start off for the garage when a plate pops off the head of the red astro-droid's head plate and it sparks wildly.
LUKE: Uncle Owen...
OWEN: Yeah?
LUKE: This R2 unit has a bad motivator. Look!
OWEN: (to the head Jawa) Hey, what're you trying to push on us?
The Jawa goes into a loud spiel. Meanwhile, Artoo has sneaked out of line and is moving up and down trying to attract attention. He lets out with a low whistle. Threepio taps Luke on the shoulder.
THREEPIO: (pointing to Artoo) Excuse me, sir, but that R2 unit is in prime condition. A real bargain.
LUKE: Uncle Owen...
OWEN: Yeah?
LUKE: What about that one?
OWEN: (to Jawa) What about that blue one? We'll take that one.
With a little reluctance the scruffy dwarf trades the damaged astro-droid for Artoo.
LUKE: Yeah, take it away.
THREEPIO: Uh, I'm quite sure you'll be very pleased with that one, sir. He really is in first-class condition. I've worked with him before. Here he comes.
Owen pays off the whining Jawa as Luke and the two robots trudge off toward a grimy homestead entry.
LUKE: Okay, let's go.
THREEPIO: (to Artoo) Now, don't you forget this! Why I should stick my neck out for you is quite beyond my capacity!
This page is brought to you by Chris's Room ([email protected])
I got my free web space from Geocities. You can too.