Based on "Jawas of Doom," an original story by Jo Duffy

Audio adaptation by Pablo Hidalgo
(February 2000)


SFX: The tribal drums and the Ewoks of the Bright Tree Village.

HAN: Hey. It's me...

KORLYSON: Yeah, Solo, I know it's you. And that's exactly why the answer is no. And it's gonna stay no. I've never much cared for dealing with smugglers, pirates and fringers. The Calamarians are right about you! You never care about paying off a debt. You're not gonna get a credit out of me!

HAN: Aww, Korly, c'mon...

KORLYSON: In case you've forgotten, Solo -- which I haven't -- you still owe me what I loaned you back on Hoth.

HAN: Hey! That's not my fault! After Hoth all hell broke loose! You know I couldn't exactly make it back to the rendezvous point since I was turned into furniture for Jabba's rumpus room!

KORLYSON: And why, pray tell, why did you end up at Jabba's? Because you owed him money!

HAN: That was the old Han, Korly. Look, y'know guys like Lando and me are always getting a bum rap, but we're different now... we're...

KORLYSON: Fringers. (Moves off) You may be a General, but not over my unit, Solo. You want to be respectable, but you're not gonna get it.

HAN: Yeah... well... that's decent of you, pal... really charitable! I probably couldn't spend your money anyway! No one would take it!

LEIA: Han? Is everything okay?

HAN: Leia... uh... good morning.

LEIA: "Good morning?" Is that all I get? You can't do any better... like this...

HAN (moves closer): Mmm... Sorry... I've just got things on my mind, that's all...

LEIA: Like what?

HAN: How after everything — Jabba, Endor, Bakura — nothing's changed. My career as a war hero won't change who I am... and being a General isn't exactly putting credit in my coffers...

LEIA: Han...

HAN: Leia... I need to think. This isn't me. Why should I pretend it is? I've been out of the circuit for years now. I'm outta the loop... a stranger in a town I used to own.

LEIA: If it's just money, Han, the Organa family still has holdings. I could lend...

HAN: No! No. That's not it. Leia... I always made it on my own... and I need to do it again. I don't belong to anything...

LEIA: Han...

HAN: I'm talking a walk... out of my way, fuzzball.

EWOK: Thaat dowheech?

LUKE: Hey, Han...

HAN: Not now, kid...

TYCHO: What was that all about?

LUKE: I don't know... I don't need the Force to tell me something's troubling him. Wedge, Tycho, hold on... Leia. What's wrong?

LEIA: (sighs) Nothing... and everything. For the first time, we may finally see the war coming to an end, but this is all happening too fast for Han since we rescued him from Jabba's... being blind and helpless on Tatooine, and then marching into a trap on Endor... Han's just had one close-call too many in the past few weeks.

LUKE: And that's not much of a life after finding out you've lost six months in hibernation. And for someone like Han, that's a lot of life.

LEIA: Yes... he just needs time to adjust. That's all...

LUKE: He's got to follow his own path. No one can choose it for him...

LEIA: Jedi wisdom?

LUKE: No.. you told me that. Four years ago. Right before the first Death Star battle. It's still true.

LEIA: Yeah... but now it hurts even more to think of him leaving.


SFX: Soft jungle noises outside, disipate as Han walks inside the ship. His foot-falls, and slight electronic warbles of the Falcon.

HAN: I don't belong to anything or anyone... except maybe you, ol'girl. You've faced death almost as many times as I have. You're not ready for retirement yet, hey girl? When's the last time we just flew? Just flew to watch a flat horizon line turn into a curve? Huh? Just flew for the sake of flying...

SFX: The rattle of small, plastic items.

HAN: Heh... I'll be. The dice I won her with, still hanging here. Good ol'Chewie...

SFX: noise from off.

HAN: Who's there?

CHEWIE: Hrrmmpph?

HAN: Chewie? Hey, pal... no. No, nothing's wrong. Just checking out a few things... making sure everything's okay... no. (Quieter) What could possibly be wrong?

CHEWIE: Hrrruuuuuuuunnnmmm....



SFX: An alarm chimes. Leia rolls over in her bed.

LEIA: Mm.. hello?

HAN (over com): Leia? Sorry... did I wake you?

LEIA: Han? It's okay... where are you?

HAN: The Falcon. I've got an idea. I'm gonna go away for a while...

LEIA: I thought you might...

HAN: No... but I want you there with me.

LEIA: Han.. I can't just up and leave...

HAN: Yes. Yes you can and you should Leia. It's not just a vacation... it's something I need to do because it's important. And you're... important too, Leia.

LEIA: Where would you go?

HAN: Well, Endor's not the only place in the galaxy. There's money waiting for me on other worlds... and before you say anything, it isn't just about money. It's about self-sufficiency. Leia, for years it was me, Chewie and the Falcon. And now... now it's a lot of clutter. A smuggler learns that excess baggage is a liability. I need to ... simplify and find out what's mine.

LEIA: And I'm not excess?

HAN: Right now, Leia, you're the only sure thing I've got.

LEIA: Thanks, Captain.

HAN: General, but who's counting?

LEIA: Okay. Mon Mothma doesn't need me for the next few days. She's organizing sector forces in Atrivis and Portmoak. Where did you plan on going?

HAN: Well, I've got bolt-holes here and there. I've got one on Nar Shaddaa, but I figure the Hutts are probably hot and bothered since you offed Jabba...

LEIA: Oh yeah... that.

HAN: If time's short, Tatooine's the nearest. I had some credits stashed there until I could get enough to pay Jabba. That dustball is probably the safest place I can be since both Jabba's and Fett's graves are there.

LEIA: So, it'll be just you, me and Chewie?

HAN: Uh.. no. Chewie's busy. The commando mission.

LEIA: Right. He's helping brief Lieutenant Page on the Kashyyyk liberation mission?

HAN: Yeah... that's what's important to him. Also, I think he wants to get in some fishing with the Ewoks...

LEIA (smiles): He's taking a liking to them. So just you and I?

HAN: Yeah... but it's not like that...

LEIA: No... no. That's okay, Han. Although... may I make a suggestion? I love you, Han. And I know that you love the Falcon. And I trust you, Han... but as for trusting the Falcon....

HAN: She's a jealous bird...

LEIA: Maybe taking the droids wouldn't be such a bad idea.

HAN: Not Threepio.

LEIA: No. Threepio's needed here until we get some more protocol droids versed in Ewokese. Besides, he's involved in some crazy ritual, removing some sort of curse set by the last medicine man. No. But Luke's gonna be on Endor for a while, so he's not gonna need Artoo.

HAN: Artoo's fine. When can you be ready?

LEIA: Let me just throw some stuff together. And I'll tell Ackbar. I take it you're ready to go?

HAN: Engines are primed... Not to rush you, sweetheart, but after six months of hard, cold nothing, I'm not letting any nano-second of my life go wasted.


SFX: Jawas scurrying. Droid noises.

JAWA: Ugeeh! Hookeeva! Terrachtee niddle mekeung!

QT-3PO: That's designation QT-3PO, you vile little thing you. My master usually referred to me as Threepio, and not just "droid." And if you had the decency to affix a working vocodor module, I would be able to approximate your crude utterances. Now what is it you want?

JAWA: Hekkele neveg unjuigo de donti!

QT-3PO: My sensors? Well, they too have fallen into disrepair. But they are accurate enough that you needn't yell. Oh... where are we? I don't have to go outside do I? Oh... there goes my thermostat.

SFX: The droid and Jawa walk down a ramp. The wind of the outdoors. The occasional creak of the sandcrawler.

JAWA: Seetchaweingo mee tungo!

QT-3PO: Metal? Why, we're surrounded by it, you demented little half-runt. There are enough scraps here to denote a sizable conflict, but that would suggest that Tatooine is a center of some sort of attention, a laughable concept... had I the capacity to laugh.

JAWA: Peng! Peng techee munkleevioga!

QT-3PO: Where? Down there? You want me to search for metal in that pit? Wait... why me? I could fall in...

JAWA: Heh-heh. Mukovivoo!

QT-3PO: Oh dear. Well... I... oh, my... please be careful. Don't crowd too close to the edge of the pit. Oh, my... my olfactory sensors are registering quite the stench... and it isn't you for a change. How grotesque... and if I didn't know better, I would say that hole is ... snoring...

SFX: The stir of the Sarlacc.

JAWA: Veko me veko! Mee tungo!

QT-3PO: Yes, yes.. metal. Okay... well... there does appear to be a considerable metal deposit right there... at that mishapen lump on the pit's inner rim. But if you think I am going there, you are most mistaken. Oh... my... well no need to rudely push me out of the way. After all, I did fulfill your request.

JAWA: Ya teng!

SFX: A magnetic weapon powers up.

QT-3PO: Oh... please keep that magnet away from my photoreceptors. It does ever play havoc with my vision. My goodness... what is it?

JAWA: Ugle na ching! Reekeb nabble toothoo! Utinni!

SFX: the magnet changes sounds as it lifts something from the sand.

QT-3PO: Yes... yes I do believe it to be some sort of droid. There is so much grime on it, though. It would appear to be covered in biological product, and then further encrusted with sand. It would seem that hole... ejected this form, somehow.

JAWA: Maggle tee huko!

QT-3PO: No.. no I don't know its make and model. What do I look like? A Jawa? I will be able to judge for you better after we have brought it into the sandcrawler and cleaned it.

JAWA: Hav bag aweeday! Nan posso wieech ee!

QT-3PO: Splendid. We're going back to the crawler. Although, allow me to interate: if this model does have a working vocodor, I would rather you keep it intact. I would much rather be able to talk to another mechanical than have the ability to further converse with you.


GARRICK (over com): This is Mos Eisley Spaceport control. Your landing clearance is denied, Falcon. Your pilot's not welcome here.

HAN: Give me a break, control. Who is this?

GARRICK: Garrick, that's who.

HAN: Garrick? Geez. You've been spending too much time with that spaceport control droid. She spreads nasty rumors about me. It's Solo.

GARRICK: Solo? Aren't you a piece of sculpture or something?

HAN: Oh, I'm laughing, Garrick. Har-har. Now, can't you just let us land?

GARRICK: Solo, the De Maals are still mad at you since the last time you blasted out of here without clearance or without paying your docking fees.

HAN: Then give us another bay.

GARRICK: There aren't enough bays in Mos Eisley to welcome you back, Solo.

HAN: Look, Garrick, we're in a bit of a hurry. I'll pay you later. I promise.

GARRICK: That's what you always say, Solo.

HAN: Why you...

LEIA: Uh, excuse me, Mr. Garrick? I take it you've heard of Jabba the Hutt's demise.

GARRICK: Yes, ma'am. I keep up to date on the news.

LEIA: Then you've also, no doubt, heard of the death of Palpatine and the scuttling of the Imperial Fleet at Endor.

GARRICK: Something to that effect... who is this?

LEIA: Well.. it would seem that without Jabba, imports and exporting will soon be a dying business on Tatooine. And with the Empire gone, who knows if the new government will bother making Tatooine a worthwhile stop for free-traders...

GARRICK: What does this have to do with me?

LEIA: Well, as Leia Organa, representative of the Alliance to Restore the Republic, soon to be Alliance of Free Planets, I could put in a very influential report naming skilled spaceport operators to Tatooine's new Trade Commission. You don't want to be cooped in a starport control tower forever, do you Mr. Garrick?

GARRICK: If you're for real... would you mention me?

LEIA: It can be arranged.

GARRICK: Uhh... okay. Permission granted to land in Docking Bay 106. Enjoy your stay on Tatooine.

LEIA: Hasn't happened yet, but I'll let you know... (flicks off com) You see? Sometimes doing things the nice way gets results.

HAN: Maybe. But feeding Garrick his own teeth would have been more satisfying.



LEIA: Now what?

HAN: Now, we go see the money men. Zygian's got a bank branch here.

ARTOO: Weeroobeep?

HAN: Yeah, sure Artoo. Looks like we brought you all the way out for nothing. If it's a recharge you want, there's a port over there. We'll be back soon.


SFX: Various wild-lines. Ronto grunts. Bustle.

HAN: It's just up here. Listen... this may take a while. Why not go to that stand and get us a bite to eat? Nothing too salty, because they gouge you with the drink prices.

LEIA: Yeah... okay.. just be careful.

HAN: Hey.. it's a bank? How much trouble could I get into?

LEIA: Han, you can find trouble in an escape pod. See you in a few minutes.

ALIEN: Gruugibuungreet?

LEIA: Hmm? I'm sorry.. I don't —

ALIEN: Gruggibuungreet? Na bonga oinkie oinkie...

LEIA: What? No... no I am not working, I am waiting for a friend inside. Now evolve, why don't you?

ALIEN: Grugg... na doind de roo.

UNUT: Heh.. heh...

LEIA: What's so funny, Arcona?

UNUT: Sorry... no disrespect, miss, since you seem far too classy for these streets. But you see a lot of these misplaced types looking for wares that Mos Eisley no longer sells.

LEIA: No longer sells?

UNUT: What with the Bloated One making the Final Jump, most of the sand-roaches scattered at First Dawn. There was some attempt at fighting over Jabba's palace, but soon they started realizing that the riches were offworld, and holding Jabba's palace meant nothing. Though, now, in some ways it's worse.

LEIA: Worse? How? With Jabba and his thieves and killers gone, I thought Mos Eisley would be rejoicing.

UNUT: Oh, we did, for a while. But every peak has its valley. Take the Jawas for instance. The Nkik clan was starving, so Jabba put them in the scrap business, extorting supplies and such from other Jawas and farmers alike. Well, the Hutt rubbed off on the little critters. Now they're mean and greedy and almost as dangerous as the Sand People if crossed. And you know what Sand People are like...

LEIA: Actually, no I don't... but I am glad Artoo is in the hangar... where's its safe.


HAN: Whaddya mean I can't have my credits?

CLERK: They are not your credits. No one can have them. That account is frozen.

HAN: What? Why?

CLERK: Because, if you must know, that customer has been frozen.

HAN: I am not frozen.

CLERK: I know you aren't, but that doesn't matter. You are not my customer.

HAN: Why not?

CLERK: Because if you were, you would be frozen in carbonite.

HAN (through clenched teeth): I was. I got thawed out.

CLERK: I'm sorry. I'm not authorized to deal with customers who've done that. You'll have to take the matter up with the computer.

HAN: You know, miss... it's a wonder you have any credits at all.. You're the coldest thing on this whole blasted planet....

SFX: Han opens the door, letting in the noise from outside.


LEIA: Han? Han... wait... Where are you going? Han? Did you get the money?

HAN: No! I didn't!

LEIA: Why not? Han? Han... wait for me!

HAN: Why bother? What good would it do you? You're hanging around with a guy who doesn't exist. A ghost, Leia. Well... this is a thirsty ghost. Wait... where are you going?

LEIA: With you.

HAN: You can't go in there.

LEIA: Why? Aren't women allowed?

HAN: Women, yes. Ladies, no.

LEIA: Han... you're talking to the "lady" who was Jabba's favorite slave girl. I can handle myself.

HAN: Yeah, well, a lot of guys in there will do your handling for you...

LEIA: Look, Han. Don't worry about me. Do whatever you'd do if I weren't here.

HAN: If you weren't here, I'd be even more miserable. Either way, both call for a drink.


SFX: Cantina wild-lines. Different music (not traditional cantina band).

LEIA: Charming. This is where you met Luke?

HAN: Well... not exactly here. Our booth was in that corner.

LEIA: The charred one?

HAN: Well, it wasn't firebombed last time I was here. Tatooine's going through some uncomfortable growing pains right now.

LEIA: It won't be alone. The whole galaxy's gotta readjust. It'll take time. For you too, Han.

HAN: Yeah...

LEIA: Why couldn't you withdraw your credits?

HAN: 'Cause someone told the computer I was out of circulation. My bet is Jabba's goons were trying to get the money I owed them after all. Anyway, I don't know how to argue with computers... at least not without breaking them.

LEIA: Han... I'm glad you're back in circulation. Really glad.

HAN: Yeah... thanks, Leia. Me too.

LEIA (moves closer): Mmm me too... Artoo!

HAN: Of all the names to call out... I wasn't expecting that one.

LEIA: No... Han! Artoo! He knows how to talk to computers! We can get him to talk to the bank!

HAN: Slice the bank computers?

LEIA: Consider it necessary file updating. C'mon. We're fixing a wrong creatively. Let's go get him. It'll make you feel better.

HAN: I was starting to feel better. Man... what is it about Skywalker's droids that they always know how to interrupt the mood.

LEIA: Han... neither the time nor the place.

HAN: Okay, okay...


HAN: There's no sign of him in the ship either, Leia.

LEIA: Artoo? Artoo! But... we told him to wait right here.

HAN: These are Skywalker's droids, sweetheart. The kid's never bolted them or disciplined them. They're like bad puppies.

LEIA: Han, this isn't funny... what's this?

HAN: What?

LEIA: These ... they look like little footprints on the floor.

HAN: Yeah... I noticed them but I was hoping I was wrong. But I suspect we had a little visit from some Jawas.


HAN: Hey, Garrick. You been in here working on these speeders all afternoon?

SFX: Garrick rummages with tools.

GARRICK: Yeah.. all the work's done, except the fine tuning. Why? What's it to you, Solo?

HAN: You didn't notice anything unusual? Maybe a sandcrawler or some prowlers? A horde of Jawas makin' off with our R2-unit?

GARRICK: What do I look like, Solo? The prefect? I mind my own business, and don't care what anyone else does.

HAN (threatening, moving closer): Hey, pal. The Empire's dead. It's a whole new galaxy... one of peace, and love, and order... now tell me....

SFX: Noise as Solo man-handles Garrick.

GARRICK: C'mon Solo... this is Tatooine. The Empire's never meant much to us here, and I don't expect your Alliance will either, miss. Mos Eisley's Mos Eisley. It's every man for himself here, an' let the strong smart ones help themselves.

HAN: Thanks for the update, Garrick. I'd almost forgotten what the real world was like.

SFX: Han keeps pushing Garrick. We hear a door open.

GARRICK: What the... Solo.. what are you doing?

SFX: Door slams.

HAN: Exercising the Mos Eisley creed, Garrick. Now you can breathe all right in that supply closet, right?

GARRICK (from inside): Solo... this isn't funny!

HAN: C'mon, your highness! Let's help ourselves to this good citizen's property. Temporarily of course!

LEIA: Right.

SFX: Repulsorlift engines start up.

GARRICK (from inside): Stop! Come back! Get me out of here! I'll call the militia!

HAN: Sure... what are they gonna do? Add it to my record? You can't fine a frozen man, Garrick.

GARRICK: Come back here!

HAN: Hmmm.... No.

SFX: Speeders take off.


SFX: Landspeeder engines. Wind.

HAN: You hear me all right, Leia?

LEIA (over com): Yeah. The comlinks work. These little one-seaters sure are loud!

HAN: And fast.

LEIA (over com): What are we looking for anyway?

HAN: You see those tracks? It's a sandcrawler, heading out into the desert. From the looks of, it's a pretty small one. Although faster than the big bruisers, these crawlers are still pretty slow. They couldn't have had more than a couple of hours' head start. We should be able to catch them. I just hope Jawas are all we have to deal with.

LEIA (over com): From what I've been hearing from the locals, they may be enough.


SFX: Interior of the sandcrawler. The chug-chug of its engines. Droid noises.

ARTOO: Ree-briipp-wheet?

QT-3PO: Yes. That is correct. You are the victim of cruel cosmic fate and are within a Jawa's sandcrawler. Like myself, you have been stripped of the last vestiges of freedom, scarred with a restraining bolt, and locked in this chamber of mechanical death for the remaining futile moments of your existence.

ARTOO: Ree-breet? Deeo... whoop ee-de-weet?

QT-3PO: Plead to the Maker that these foul travesties of Jawas do not find you in any way useful, as they do me, for then maybe you can face the Maker's embrace early, rather than stagnate in an existence of vile servitude.

ARTOO: Braaat. Wheet?

QT-3PO: That... that is possibly a cyborg. The Jawas believe it is a droid, but is difficult to tell. It is most unintelligent, and it all it does is lie dormant. Note the corrosion of its metal parts. We found it near here, on the edge of a vast pit. It is my belief that the creature dwelling in the pit tasted the droid, and regurgitated it violently. So, with the Maker's cruel irony, this mechanical was spared one grisly fate and awarded another.

ARTOO: Hebleep! Wiordittledittledittle! Breep!

QT-3PO: How would you know? You are an expert on droid models? Really... a Boba-Fett unit! I've never heard of such a model. Or even the alphabet required to produce such a name. Most unlikely. Now... what's that?

SFX: Distant blaster bolts, outside.


SFX: Speeder engines. Blaster shots.

HAN (over com): That's it, Leia! Keep firing! We've got to make these Jawas stop before we can take a look and see if they've got Artoo!

LEIA : I'm firing, but this things got armor plate thicker than the Falcon!

HAN (over com): We're not trying to destroy it, your Highness. We just want them to stop.

LEIA: I think it's working! They're slowing down! Or maybe they're just up to something...

SFX: Sandcrawler begins slowing down.

HAN (over com): Artoo-Detoo! Can you hear me?


HAN (outside, distant, shouting): Artoo-Detoo? Can you hear me?

ARTOO: Be-whip deeble bloo!

QT-3PO: A rescue. My aren't you just the Maker's favorite.

FETT: Uhh... hhhh...


JAWA: Uggle techee! Wayaathataa!

SFX: Blaster shots, different type from before. Landspeeder engines flare.

HAN: Woah! Hey! You're supposed to be cowards! Watch it Leia, those little bugpiles have blasters!

LEIA (over com): I know! I know!


SFX: Jawas scurry about

JAWA: Uggle reqeene vegren yubula!

ARTOO: Weeereee! Treebee!

QT-3PO: Take advantage of the distraction? My, aren't we dramatic? I wouldn't recommend that.


QT-3PO: You'll have to learn the hard way!

SFX: Electronic sizzle.


QT-3PO: Like all of us, your freedom of movement is quite restricted. As long as the Jawa's computer remains active, the field erected around the chamber restricts our movements through our restraining bolts. If you display too much inititiave, you will be dieactivated, broken down, and sold for scrap, as the Jawas do with all difficult units.

FETT: Uhmmm...

QT-3PO: It would seem our cyborg companion either concurs or is trying to shake intelligence back into his cranial dome.


SFX: blaster fire, Landspeeder engines.

LEIA: Han! This is getting us nowhere! We've made them mad, but they haven't stopped.

HAN (over com): Yeah yeah... looks like we'll need strategy. I'm gonna try and get real close. You cover me. Lay on that blaster fire like make-up on a Twi'lek girl.

SFX: A barrage of blaster fire plows into the sandcrawler.

HAN (over com): 'Atta girl! Just what I need.

LEIA: Uhh... Han!

JAWAS: Uoowwee! Utinni! Meeveebek!

HAN (over com): I'm making my move for that crawler...

LEIA: Han! That shooting wasn't me! It came from behind-- ugh! My speeder's hit...

SFX: Leia's speeder shakes and makes not-at-all well sounds. She hits the desert sand. Scene switches to Han's POV, with his speeder engine roaring.

HAN: Keep covering me! I've gotta adjust speed before I jump! Ugh!

SFX: A collision, as the speeder hits the crawler treads. A horrible grinding of metal. Han jumps onto the crawler. Blaster fire continues, hitting close.

HAN: There! A speeder in your treads should slow you down! Now... to get inside... uh.. Leia! Sweetheart! You can lay off the covering fire! I'm... already .. WOAH! That was close! Leia... Oh!

SFX: Han tumbles.


SFX: Crawler rumble distantly. Shots keep ringing out.

LEIA: Han! Han look out for that! (GASP) Did he fall down the hatch or jump in? Han! Can you hear me?

SFX: Howls of Tusken Raiders and the gallop of Banthas.

LEIA: What are those things? Are those sand people? Oh my... Stang! Han! Solo! Can you hear me? You've got big trouble! Your speeder damaged the crawler's treads, they've jammed and you're curving right towards the Sarlacc pit!


LEIA (distant): You're moving closer... I think it's gonna hit the lip of the pit! You gotta get out!

HAN: Ughh... my aching... what! You! Fett!

QT-3PO: That's it Fett unit. Keep the organic covered. He is undoubtedly here to inflict more suffering on our mechanical kind.

HAN: I don't get this... why aren't you shooting? I'm unarmed...

LEIA (distant): You in the sandcrawler! You are in grave danger! That crawler is heading towards the Sarlacc! The Jawas are too busy with bantha-riding raiders to steer out of the way!

HAN: Sandpeople... uh, look, Boba. I know how feel about me, but the only way out of here is if we work here together.

FETT: Do I ... did I know you?

HAN: What?

FETT: Please... tell me.

HAN: Yes.. I'll tell you... but we don't have time. Put down the gun... and ... get the bolt off that droid.

QT-3PO: Typical. Humans and mechanicals conspiring against me. Should've forseen it, really.

FETT(with some exertion): There. The bolt is removed.

HAN: Now, get down and give me a boost so I can get up the hatch. There... now hand me the Artoo unit. I'll haul you up next... (quieter) maybe.

SFX: Han picks up Artoo. They are now outside. Wind picks up. Intermittent blaster shots.

ARTOO: Breep oop!

HAN: Nothing personal Artoo. Just a good-natured shove!

SFX: Han shoves Artoo off the crawler.


LEIA (distant): Han? Han is that you? Most of the Jawas have bailed! The crawler's gonna hit the pit! You're gonna hit the edge! Han? Han?

HAN: Use your blaster! Shoot out the treads! Shoot the speeder wreck! Anything! (Quieter) Blast it. I can't leave Fett in here. Not when he's helpless. (To Fett) Look, pal... you've done a real good job. Now, I know you're hurt... so give me your hand and let me pull you out. C'mon... c'mon or we'll both be dead. C'mon... what are you waiting for?

SFX: Leia fires away at the crawler. There is an explosion as the speeder blows, and there is a creak of metal, like some sort of falling mechanical tree.

LEIA: Han! The speeder blew! The crawler's tipping! Han jump! Jump away! Jump, Han!

FETT: Han? .... Han Solo? Solo!

HAN: Uh-no... not now..

FETT: Solo!

HAN: Will you get out before its too late? What... what are you going back for? Uh-oh...

FETT: You're mine, Solo!

SFX: Fett's blaster rifle fires. The groan of the crawler gets louder and louder.

HAN: Ohh,, blast... there goes the crawler... not today, Fett... Not today! Ghaaa! (Grunts with exertion)

FETT: Solo! Come back here... ahh!

SFX: The crawler crashes with an powerful thud.


SFX: The metal groans of the fallen crawler.

HAN: Are you sure of what you saw?

LEIA: Yes, Han. He was on top of the crawler when it toppled. He slid off, and fell back into the pit. He's gone.

HAN: I would have saved him... I really would have. I tried.

LEIA: I know. Like it not, Solo, you've got honor. That's what separates you from fringers like Fett.

HAN: Yeah... so much for the brand new galaxy.

ARTOO: Whooooooo...

LEIA: Let's go see what Artoo can do with my speeder. We've got a crawler full of spare parts... we should be all right.

HAN: Yeah. It's a long walk back to Mos Eisley...

LEIA: Long, yes. But it wouldn't be lonely.

HAN: No... no it wouldn't.


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