Chapters (57)
- Cover
- Doctor Aphra
- DRAMATIS PERSONAE
- SCENE 1
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- ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
We hear something like a shifting gear or a series of beeps/whirs/clanks as Trip switches his vocal processor over…
TRIPLE-ZERO:
[way too high-pitched]
I am C-3PO, revolting, flesh-sack-adoring toadie…no, that’s not right…
[way too low-pitched]
I am C-3PO, despicable stooge with a giant metal rod up his…no…
[regular voice]
Curses, who would have guessed such simpering tones were so difficult to emulate…
We hear another series of gear shifts…
TRIPLE-ZERO:
[correct C-3PO voice]
I am…C-3PO, a protocol droid fluent in over six million forms of communication…and debasing myself on a regular basis via doing the bidding of useless organics.
APHRA:
Close enough. Go.
APHRA (narration):
Triple-Zero moved closer to Skywalker—and I could swear I saw a change in his gait. It was definitely more…helpful. Somehow.
TRIPLE-ZERO:
Excuse me, master! Oh, there you are! We were all so worried, Master Luke!
LUKE SKYWALKER:
Threepio! It’s good to see you!
R2-D2:
BLEEP! BLEEP BLEEP BLEEP BLEEP BLEEEEEP!
APHRA:
[sotto]
Ugh, shut up!
LUKE SKYWALKER:
Calm down, Artoo! It’s just…
Triple-Zero touches Luke’s shoulder, sending a massive electric shock through his system.
R2-D2:
BLEEP! BLEEP!
TRIPLE-ZERO:
Oh, be quiet, you astromech annoyance! You flesh-loving scum have made your bed. Now you’re going to die in it!
APHRA:
Ugh, Trip. Leave the one-liners to me. Okay, Beetee, let’s go grab the kid before Trip electrocutes everything in sight.
BEETEE:
BLEEP!
TRIPLE-ZERO:
Thank the Maker you’re here, Beetee! Mistress, I’ve managed to render Skywalker unconscious—
APHRA:
I can see that—his little astromech is still upright, though, and…is it releasing some kind of gas?
R2-D2:
BLEEP!
TRIPLE-ZERO:
Yes, it’s trying to defend its fallen master! Isn’t that…oh, what’s the proper adjective?
APHRA:
Brave? Cute? Heroically in denial of reality?
TRIPLE-ZERO:
Pathetic.
Isn’t that just utterly pathetic? Beetee? Perhaps you’d like to show this R2 unit how a proper droid should behave.
APHRA:
Beetee, don’t get too close! And let’s not get distracted with another…
like, droid firefight!
TRIPLE-ZERO:
Heavens, Mistress Aphra, the things you categorize as “distractions”
are most fascinating. Beetee, you tell this impertinent R2—
BEETEE:
BLEEP BLEEP!
TRIPLE-ZERO:
Yes! Exactly that!
R2-D2:
TWEEP WWUURUU BWOOP!
BEETEE:
BLEEP!
R2-D2:
BEEDA TWEET BWOOP WOOBEEP
BEETEE:
BLEEP BLEEP
R2-D2:
BRIP WUDDA TWEET PWEEOOO BRRRRRP!
TRIPLE-ZERO:
My, what language! He certainly is a foulmouthed little astromech! I wonder if he’s capable of backing up such talk?
R2-D2:
BEEDOO THWWWWWRK
APHRA:
Oh gods, no! Little R2 unit, do not fire on Beetee, that’s when the cannons come out! I repeat—
As R2-D2 fires on Beetee, Beetee arms his massive arsenal of weapons and unleashes all of his firepower.
BEETEE:
BLEEEEEEEEEEP
R2-D2:
BLORP! WWWEEEEAAAAAAAAAH!
TRIPLE-ZERO:
Look at Beetee go! Wanton destruction really brings out his playful side, doesn’t it?