Cover

Dr. Aphra teams up with Darth Vader himself in the original script to the audiobook production—an expanded adaptation of the critically acclaimed Marvel comics series.

Dr. Chelli Lona Aphra, rogue archaeologist, is in trouble again.

A pioneer in the field of criminal xenoarchaeology, Aphra recognizes no law, has no fear, and possesses no impulse control. To her, the true worth of the galactic relics she discovers isn’t found in a museum but in an arsenal. This viewpoint has led to a lot of misunderstandings. After her latest plan goes horribly wrong, her roguish ways are on the verge of catching up to her. That’s when suddenly Darth Vader, terror of the galaxy, swoops in with his lightsaber and … saves her life?

Don’t get her wrong—it’s not like she’s ungrateful. Sure, her new boss is a lord of the Sith. And okay, she may have just become a...

Sarah Kuhn

Doctor Aphra

Nuevo Canon - 4.2

ePub r1.0

Titivillus 11-04-2021

Sarah Kuhn, 2021

Digital editor: Titivillus

ePub base r2.1

DRAMATIS PERSONAE

• DOCTOR CHELLI LONA APHRA: Rogue archaeologist. Weapons and droid expert extraordinaire. Our intrepid heroine.
• DARTH VADER: Infamous Sith Lord. Man of few words. Our intrepid heroine’s terrifying boss.
• TRIPLE-ZERO: Protocol droid. Favorite hobbies include translation, holo-chess, and draining organics of all their blood.
• BEETEE: Blastomech droid. Has a flamethrower.
• SANA STARROS: Smuggler. Unfortunate dreamboat. Working with the rebels for some godsforsaken reason.
• BLACK KRRSANTAN: Disgraced Wookiee. Fearsome bounty hunter. Do not challenge him to a pit fight.
• PADMÉ AMIDALA: The “good” former queen and senator of Naboo.
• PRINCESS LEIA ORGANA: Rebel royalty. Has a mean left hook.
• LUKE SKYWALKER: Yellow-haired rebel humanoid who is supposedly important for some reason?
• HAN SOLO: Reformed scoundrel. Always claims to save the day. Actually useless.
• CHEWBACCA: Han Solo’s very loud Wookiee sidekick. No match for Black Krrsantan in my opinion.
• C-3PO: Simpering Triple-Zero doppelgänger.
• R2-D2: Foolhardy Beetee doppelgänger.
• EMPEROR PALPATINE: Our intrepid heroine’s boss’s boss.
• BOBA FETT: Bounty hunter. Inspires fear in the hearts of all (except for our intrepid heroine).
• MAZ KANATA: Badass pirate queen. Incredibly sore loser.
• KORIN APHRA: Our intrepid heroine’s father. Obsessed with excruciatingly boring Jedi stuff.
• LONA APHRA: Our intrepid heroine’s mother. Obsessed with excruciatingly boring planets.
• THE ANTE: Information broker. Sometimes useful. Not to be trusted.
• IG-90: Bounty hunter. Overly pedantic assassin droid. Likes to shoot things.
• BOSSK: Bounty hunter. Wookiee-killing machine. Does not understand the concept of jokes.
• BEEBOX: Bounty hunter. Very short, but carries a big gun.
• UTANI XANE: Curator of Quarantine World III. Loves bureaucracy and crushing dreams.
• SAVA TOOB-NIX: Sava of the University of Bar’leth. Hates when his lectures are interrupted (especially by our intrepid heroine).
• COMMODEX TAHN: Former mortician of Naboo. All-around bad liar.
• ENEB RAY: Former rebel spy. Loves to monologue.
• GEONOSIAN QUEEN: Really scary. No other descriptors necessary.

A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away…

SCENE 1

INT. THE ARK ANGEL. SOMEWHERE IN THE OUTER RIM.

APHRA:

Begin recording.

APHRA (narration):

The first thing you need to know: This time I’m dead. Definitely, definitely dead.

I’ve almost died before. So many times. “More lives than a tooka-cat,”

that’s how Sava Toob-Nix used to describe me. And this story, the one that ends with me definitely dead…it all starts with one of those times I almost died.

So let’s begin there.

We hear the blasts and explosions of a truly epic space battle—

perhaps a bit exaggerated in its epicness because this is the story as Aphra’s telling it, and she is nothing if not over the top.

APHRA (narration):

Imagine it: the most epic space battle you’ve ever seen. Lasers!

Explosions! Things that go pew-pew! And right in the middle of it all, our intrepid heroine—that’s me!—Doctor Chelli Lona Aphra. Rogue archaeologist, weapons expert, droid reactivator extraordinaire…and did I mention she is also extraordinarily beautiful? Raven tresses…that are usually a tangled mess, because they’re stuffed under a very stylish aviator cap, complete with rakish goggles. Brown eyes that spark—yes, spark!—with a yearning for adventure. Intriguing electro-tattoos running down her right arm—foolish, youthful mistake, or sign of an irrepressible daredevil? That’s none of your business!

Let’s join her as she makes her grand escape from a gang of nefarious pirates trying to gun down her glorious ship, the Ark Angel!

A particularly loud boom! as Aphra’s ship is hit.

APHRA:

Dammit…hyperdrive down, life support hit. Okay…okay…that’s fine, nothing to worry about. Activate auxiliary systems and get the crew working on it right away!

A beat as she realizes she’s talking to herself.

APHRA:

Oh, right. There are no auxiliary systems. And I don’t have a crew.

Time to get creative…

The ship’s comm beeps with an incoming transmission.

MAZ KANATA (on comm):

Doctor Aphra! Surrender the valuable artifacts you have stolen from us and we will leave you and your ship be and continue on our way!

Aphra speaks to Maz as she tinkers furiously with her ship’s control panel, trying to buy time.

APHRA:

Heeeey, Maz Kanata! Always an honor to speak to the galaxy’s most—

and I mean most—legendary pirate queen! I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve dreamed of this moment, just the two of us on a comm while trying to shoot each other into the Void. I can’t imagine why you’re shooting at li’l ol’ me, though, I swear you’ve got the wrong girl—

MAZ KANATA (on comm):

Spare me your legendary—and I mean legendary—falsehoods, Aphra, we know you have the antique stealth microdroid dust—

APHRA:

You wound me with these accusations!

MAZ KANATA (on comm):

My crew went to great lengths to secure an artifact so valuable, and you, no doubt, are planning on doing something extraordinarily stupid with it—

APHRA:

What, like use it?

MAZ KANATA (on comm):

Exactly.

APHRA:

Okay. Now this is getting downright personal. Is there no sisterhood among rogues anymore? Tell ya what, why don’t we settle in at one of those backwater holes you love so much, have a drink, talk this out like the proper ladies we are—

Another boom rocks Aphra’s ship. Her tinkering gets even more furious, more desperate.

APHRA:

That was very un ladylike, Maz.

The Ark Angel lets out a series of frantic beeps.

APHRA:

Now my life support’s failing, I probably only have a few breaths left in me, I’m going to die out here because you’re convinced I took something from you and, worse yet, that I have some sort of nefarious plan for it—

MAZ KANATA (on comm):

You underestimate how well I—or anyone who’s spoken to you for more than five seconds—know you.

APHRA:

Fine! Of course I took it! And of course I’m going to use it! You pirates think you understand the value of all these artifacts you so carelessly pilfer, but all you really understand is that they’re old, and that means they need to be sold to a dusty old museum where they rot away into nothing. And all without ever being used for their true purpose, fulfilling their true potential—out there in the galaxy, having the extraordinary adventures they were meant for.

I mean. How would you like it if someone put you in a museum, Maz?

MAZ KANATA (on comm):

You are telling me that in your custody, the antique stealth microdroid dust is going to have adventures? Rather than merely being sold to the highest bidder?

APHRA:

Would it…make you stop shooting at me if that was the case?

A beat as Maz considers—or at least pretends to.

MAZ KANATA (on comm):

Probably not.

Another loud boom rocks Aphra’s ship.

APHRA:

That’s what I figured. And that’s why…I also stole—er, liberated something else from your pirating spoils! The cutest little astromech scraps…so shiny, and just sitting there, nestled next to the microdroid dust. I swear, they started talking to me. Wanted me to take ’em home.

And I like the shiny, so I obliged.

MAZ KANATA (on comm):

[genuinely puzzled]

The…astromech scraps? Those were salvaged from a Corellian junkyard, but they were so rusty, so banged up and broken, even our best techs couldn’t do anything with them. They’re just…trash.

APHRA:

Yeah, I love trash. Watch what happens when I place my shiny new astromech bit just so in my central operating system.

We hear a decisive click as Aphra places the droid part in her control panel.

APHRA:

Hooks right in—’cause I’ve got the magic touch. Oh, and I’ve made so many personal modifications to the Ark Angel, my beloved ship will run on anything. Even old droid parts.

A loud explosion rocks Maz’s ship.

MAZ KANATA (on comm):

What! Direct hit, our gravity’s knocked out…

APHRA:

Soooo…did I mention that I’ve actually been looking for this exact

’mech bit? I had a theory that it would enhance my weapons system—

looks like I was right! All-purpose astromech bits! Or at least they are in my hands…

MAZ KANATA (on comm):

I don’t understand how you… you…

APHRA:

Your techs are a buncha charlatans, Maz. You should reaaaalllly consider replacing them if you want to keep that badass pirate queen rep.

MAZ KANATA (on comm):

That isn’t… Void! Retreat! This isn’t over, Aphra…

APHRA:

Oh, I know.

As Maz’s ship retreats, Aphra actually sounds a little contemplative—

APHRA:

I really do hope we get that drink one day.

SCENE 2

INT. VAULT ROOM. QUARANTINE WORLD III. KALLIDAHIN SPACE.

Aphra stands at the entrance of the vault, gazing at the small wall safe located on the other side of the room.

Atmosphere: This facility has a rigid, very sterile quality—cavernous yet tightly secure in a way that always seems empty, despite it being full of dangerous weapons. Even the smallest sounds carry a bit of an echo, bouncing off the endless chasms and hard metal surfaces.

APHRA (narration):

Maz was right—that microdroid dust and I, we were about to have some major adventures together. I mean, they’d kinda have to be major if they led to my death, right?

But I’m getting ahead of myself.

My next stop, after successfully escaping Maz’s pirate gang and kind of, sort of inflicting a truly astonishing amount of damage to their ship, was Quarantine World III in Kallidahin space.

This quarantine world was established to, and I quote from some really boring academic text I only partially skimmed at university “safely contain artifacts classified as highly dangerous and possibly lethal.”

In my professional archaeologist opinion…this is a buncha bantha crap.

The things contained in this facility are deadly works of art. They should be out in the world, being truly appreciated by those who understand their power. They should be living their dreams and blowing stuff up.

If I had the time—and, let’s face it, if someone was paying me an astronomical amount of credits—I’d liberate every single artifact in this quarantine world’s cold, gray central facility, with its maze of twisting wires, its middling surveillance system, and its overwhelming feeling of excruciatingly dull…emptiness.

But I had to focus: I was only here for one thing.

Bypassing surveillance was no problem. Ditto breaking into the cavernous vault housing the thing I was after.

Admirers of my many exploits often ask me: What is it with you and breaking into things? How do you do it so fast, and with such precision? Is that something you learned at university?

No, of course not. Sava Toob-Nix’s head—hell, maybe his entire body—

would explode at the mere thought of a student crediting her incredible safecracking skills to his teachings.

The truth is, mechanical things speak to me. Droids. Ships. Vaults containing valuable instruments of destruction. The satisfying click of a gear sliding into place or a wire detaching in just the right spot…it’s like a language only I can understand. I feel these words that aren’t quite words deep in my bones, the way I imagine a musician hears the opening notes of their masterpiece symphony.

And I use my understanding of this language to fix things. And also to break things.

Okay, mostly to break things.

Standing at the entrance of the massive vault I’d just successfully broken into, I gazed at my nemesis, buried deep inside. It was positioned on the wall farthest from me, on the other end of a long metal bridge, and it had a glowing, green cast to it. It looked like some kind of super-creepy eye thing that could see right through me. It was…

Ugh. It was another vault.

Well, more like a safe. Smaller, but still yet another thing I’d have to break into.

APHRA:

Hmm. Surveillance already bypassed. Guns, but no visible triggers.

Just an empty room.

[big sarcasm]

Perfectly safe to walk across, I’m sure.

This is where my new and extremely talented little friend, Mr. Stealth Antique Microdroid Dust, comes in.

Bit of a mouthful, that name. Sir, may I simply call you…Stealthy?

[beat]

Okay, then, Stealthy: Let’s go on that adventure—time to see what you can do!

Aphra blows the dust across the room, igniting a web of red laser-beam-like triggers.

APHRA:

Annnnnnd…looks like we got a whole mess of glowing red laser things that are actually highly sensitive security triggers. Good job, Mr.

Stealthy!

Okay…no problem. I’ll crawl under them. Go around them. Turn myself into microdroid dust and float over them, all superior-like.

Safe, if you can hear me: You will be mine.

APHRA (narration):

When there’s no door in sight, I find one. When I can’t find one, I make one. Kinda like I did with ol’ Maz back there. I used all the stuff I stole—er, liberated—from her to make my own door.

I slid to the floor, crawling on my belly, avoiding the bright-red beams of light that would surely lead to my doom if I made contact with them. Well, mostly they’d lead to me getting caught by the uptight, holier-than-thou security that runs this joint, but whatever.

Imagine if one of these laser things did, like, vivisect me, though. That would at least be an exciting way to go, right? Maybe Sava Toob-Nix’s new students would read about me in one of their boring academic texts!

[affects a pretentious, professorial-type voice]

And that was the last adventure for legendary archaeologist Doctor Chelli Lona Aphra, who we don’t even really need to name since you all know who she is already! She overcame a hardscrabble, boring-as-dirt past to become one of the galaxy’s leading experts on highly sought-after artifacts, dodged death oh-so-many times…and was finally murdered by a rogue laser beam when she belly-crawled just a little too far to the left—

[normal voice]

Hmm. Actually, that doesn’t sound very impressive, does it?

I know you were probably hoping this was the moment I died for real, which would make our story very short. And everyone who wants me dead would be able to celebrate.

I…think it’d be a pretty big celebration.

Sorry, intrepid space enemies, no such luck. Mr. Stealthy made sure I avoided all those pesky lasers, and I finally reached the creepy glowing-eye safe, my hand clapping against one of those boring gray walls with relief.

A few more milliseconds and I got the safe open…

The safe pops open, revealing the Triple-Zero Matrix hidden inside—

a small control panel of twisting wires and glowing lights.

APHRA (narration):

And there it was. The thing I’d come for. The climax of my totally brilliant plan that was totally going to make me a whole lot of money.

A glorious tiny control pad of lights and wires containing one of the most dangerous things in the entire galaxy.

APHRA:

Well, hello, Triple-Zero Personality Matrix. You are looking delightful this evening.

APHRA (narration):

The Triple-Zero Matrix was another thing that just spoke to me. As I disconnected it from its cold, soulless prison, I swore I felt it perk up—

its lights flashed more insistently, its constant hum of power grew more vigorous. It knew that wherever it was going had to be more exciting than a musty old vault.

I took a moment to gaze at it, admiration swelling in my chest: This tiny rectangle of crossed wires probably wouldn’t look impressive to anyone else.

But I knew: I was holding the most dangerous thing in the galaxy.

Now I had to get out of this sad, silent quarantine world. And then it was time for one of my favorite parts: getting paid.

Same drill as before, only in reverse. Slide to the floor, belly-crawl, avoid those triggers…

APHRA:

Careful…careful…Keep your head down and your elbows in…Don’t bump the laser, don’t end up a footnote in a musty academic text…

Aphra’s elbow bumps one of the triggers, setting off a loud alarm.

APHRA:

Oh, son of a… Traitorous elbow! How dare you!

Lasers shoot at Aphra, and the alarm gets even louder.

APHRA (narration):

Yeah, I bumped the stupid laser. I didn’t die—it just stung a little. I leapt to my feet, forgoing all attempts at stealth or delicacy—and I ran.

SCENE 3

INT. CORRIDOR. QUARANTINE WORLD III. KALLIDAHIN SPACE. MOMENTS LATER.

Aphra sprints through the corridor of the facility, ducking to avoid the many things shooting at her.

Atmosphere: Now the facility feels like it’s come to life, its security systems deployed! We should still get that cavernous feeling, but things are less sterile and way more chaotic—just the way Aphra likes them.

APHRA (narration):

As I sprinted through the corridor—which, by the way, was as boring and gray as the rest of the quarantine facility, I guess they don’t want you getting distracted by anything actually interesting while you’re running for your life—I remembered something else I didn’t learn from one of those texts I didn’t read: Never look behind you.

Because when I spared a glance over my shoulder, I saw that—in addition to all the facility munitions trying to shoot me back to the Outer Rim—someone had kindly dispatched a shielded destroyer droid to chase me!

The droid clanks after Aphra, its speed increasing as it bears down on her.

APHRA:

Oh, double son of a—

The clanking gets faster and faster as the droid pursues Aphra. Her breathing and footfalls speed up. In the distance, we hear the rumble

of a large bay door closing.

APHRA (narration):

I ran with all my might toward the hangar, increasing my speed as the bay door lowered shut, the clanking of the destroyer getting closer…

and closer…

I’ll confess, I was dying to stop, turn, and really inspect that droid.

Was it just me, or was its clank extra loud, especially considering that it was shielded? Was its lower joint mechanism rusty? Did it have a rotting secondhand part? Did it just need a little oil?

That mechanical language was pinging through my brain again—I could fix it, if given the chance…

But, no. There were other things I had to worry about.

I flung myself at the bay door, skidding along the floor, hands outstretched…just a few seconds, perfectly timed, and I’d make it, I’d make it, I’d definitely make it…

Aphra slams into the bay door with a massive crash.

APHRA:

Gaaaaaahhhh… dammit.

APHRA (narration):

Annnnd…I didn’t make it. Slammed into the bay door just as it hit the floor. Perfect.

I rolled onto my side and wheezed for breath, the wind knocked out of me. Even though I was seeing stars, I brushed my fingertips along the bay door. Just to make sure it was really closed.

Yeah…it was. Cutting me off from the Ark Angel, from escape, from…

everything.

And from liberating the Triple-Zero Matrix from this godsawful place.

I had to find another door.

UTANI XANE:

Doctor Aphra! You are an irresponsible and troublesome woman.

Utani Xane and his gang of security droids surround Aphra.

APHRA:

[sotto]

Great, the really boring cavalry’s here.

[regular voice]

Heeeey, Utani Xane. And…uh, friends. Security droids? Sirs, madams?

Not sure what you prefer.

UTANI XANE:

Silence!

APHRA:

Utani Xane, so nice to see an old…friend. I didn’t know you were working here. Why am I not surprised?

UTANI XANE:

I’m equally unsurprised to find you setting off the alarms. There’s a reason why the Triple-Zero Matrix has been quarantined for centuries.

APHRA:

Yes, because of people like you! Small minds who just want to hide beautiful things in storage or a museum.

It should be in an armory!

UTANI XANE:

And you should be in prison again. Maybe this time, it’ll stick.

APHRA (narration):

The overzealous security droids clamped binders on me and took my treasure, but I was already thinking of all the ways I would obviously foil them and escape in a blaze of glory. Loud, explosive, all-blasters-firing glory.

It’d been pretty explosive the last time I’d encountered Utani Xane, too —he used to be the curator at a bustling museum on Coruscant, specializing in outdated droid artifacts salvaged after the Clone Wars. I applied for a job there—I know, I know. You’re thinking, Really, Chelli? When did you ever apply for a proper job? Is it Opposite Day?

Or, more precisely, The Antithesis of Everything You Are and Will Ever Be Day?

Look, I was in a bit of a dry spell after splitting with some contentious associates who’d helped me raid a… mostly abandoned fortress on Sarjenn Prime. I thought it might be nice to rack up credits and get an official-like title under my belt—assistant curator—because even the lowlifes who hire for the semi-illicit type jobs I do are impressed by such things. I figured Xane would be so dazzled by my expertise, I’d be promoted to the top in no time!

Head Curator Aphra, in charge of absolutely everything! Has a nice ring to it, eh? For a fleeting moment, I was almost… respectable!

Buuuuuut…turns out folks like Utani Xane—sniveling little bureaucrats with fancy titles and certain ideas about how things “should” be done—really don’t like it when their underlings take initiative.

I couldn’t help it. Being surrounded by all those supposedly outdated droid parts…well, they started talking to me in that irresistible mechanical language, and I simply had to respond.

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