Jabba's Throne Room: The throne room is filled with the vilest, most grotesque creatures ever conceived in the universe. Artoo and Threepio seem very small as they pause in the doorway to the dimly lit chamber. Light shafts partially illuminate the drunken courtiers as Bib Fortuna crosses the room to the platform upon which rests the leader of this nauseating crowd: Jabba the Hutt.
The monarch of the galactic underworld is a repulsive blob of bloated fat with a maniacal grin. Chained to the horrible creature is the beautiful alien female dancer named Oola. At the foot of the dais sits an obnoxious birdlike creature, Salacious Crumb. Bib whispers something in the slobbering degenerate's ear. Jabba laughs horribly, at the two terrified droids before him. Threepio bows politely.
THREEPIO: Good morning.
JABBA: Bo Shuda!
The robots jump forward to stand before the repulsive, loose-skinned villain.
THREEPIO: The message, Artoo, the message.
Artoo whistles, and a beam of light projects from his domed head, creating a hologram of Luke on the floor. The image grows to over ten feet tall, and the young Jedi towers over the space gangsters.
LUKE: Greetings, Exalted One. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Luke Skywalker, Jedi Knight and friend to Captain Solo. I know that you are powerful, mighty Jabba, and that your anger with Solo must be equally powerful. I seek an audience with Your Greatness to bargain for Solo's life. (Jabba's crowd laughs) With your wisdom, I'm sure that we can work out an arrangement which will be mutually beneficial and enable us to avoid any unpleasant confrontation. As a token of my goodwill, I present to you a gift: these two droids.
Threepio is startled by this announcement.
THREEPIO: What did he say?
LUKE (cont): ... Both are hardworking and will serve you well.
THREEPIO: This can't be! Artoo, you're playing the wrong message.
Luke's hologram disappears. Jabba laughs while Bib speaks to him in Huttese.
JABBA (in Huttese subtitled): There will be no bargain.
THREEPIO: We're doomed.
JABBA (in Huttese subtitled): I will not give up my favorite decoration. I like Captain Solo where he is.
Jabba laughs hideously and looks toward an alcove beside the throne. Hanging high, flat against the wall, exactly as we saw him last, is a carbonized Han Solo.
THREEPIO: Artoo, look! Captain Solo. And he's still frozen in carbonite.
Dungeon Corridor: One of Jabba's Gamorrean guards marches Artoo and Threepio down a dank, shadowy passageway lined with holding cells. The cries of unspeakable creatures bounce off the cold stone walls. Occasionally a repulsive arm or tentacle grabs through the bars at the hapless droids. Artoo beeps pitifully.
THREEPIO: What could possibly have come over Master Luke. Is it something I did? He never expressed any unhappiness with my work. Oh! Oh! Hold it! Ohh!
A large tentacle wraps around Threepio's neck. He manages to break free, and they move on to a door at the end of the corridor.
Boiler Room: The door slides open, revealing a room filled with steam and noisy machinery. The guard motions them into the boiler room, where they see a power droid is upside down. As smoking branding irons are pressed into his feet, the stubby robot lets out an agonized electronic scream.
They are met by a tall, thin humanlike robot named EV-9D9 (Eve-Ninedenine). Behind the robot can be seen a torture rack pulling the legs off a screaming baby work droid. Artoo and Threepio cringe as the guard grunts to EV-9D9.
NINEDENINE: Ah, good. New acquisitions. You are a protocol droid, are you not?
THREEPIO: I am See-Threepio, human-cy...
NINEDENINE: Yes or no will do.
THREEPIO: Oh. Well, yes.
NINEDENINE: How many languages do you speak?
THREEPIO: I am fluent in over six million forms of communication, and can
NINEDENINE: Splendid! We have been without an interpreter since our master got
angry with our last protocol droid and disintegrated him.
NINEDENINE (to a Gamorrean guard): Guard! This protocol droid might be useful. Fit him with a restraining
bolt and take him back to His Excellency's main audience chamber.
The guard shoves Threepio toward the door.
THREEPIO (disappearing): Artoo, don't leave me! Ohhh!
Artoo lets out a plaintive cry as the door closes. Then he beeps angrily.
NINEDENINE: You're a feisty little one, but you'll soon learn some respect. I have need for you on the master's Sail Barge. And I think you'll fit in nicely.
The poor work droid in the background lets out another tortured electronic scream.