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...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!
LARS HOMESTEAD - GARAGE AREA - LATE AFTERNOON: The garage is cluttered and worn, but a friendly peaceful atmosphere permeates the low grey chamber. Threepio lowers himself into a large tub filled with warm oil.
THREEPIO: Thank the major! This oil bath is going to feel so good. I've got such a bad case of dust contamination, I can barely move!
Luke seems to be lost in thought as he plays with a small spaceship model.
LUKE: It just isn't fair. Oh, Biggs is right. I'm never gonna get out of here!
THREEPIO: Is there anything I might do to help?
Luke glances at the battered robot. A bit of his anger drains and a tiny smile creeps across his face.
LUKE: Well, not unless you can alter time, speed up the harvest, or teleport me off this rock!
THREEPIO: I don't think so, sir. I'm only a droid and not very knowledgeable about such things. Not on this planet, anyways. As a matter of fact, I'm not even sure which planet I'm on.
LUKE: Well, if there's a bright center to the universe, you're on the planet that it's farthest from.
THREEPIO: I see, sir.
LUKE: Uh, you can call me Luke.
THREEPIO: I see, sir Luke.
LUKE: (laughing) Just Luke.
THREEPIO: Oh. And I am See-Threepio, human-cyborg relations, and this is my counterpart, Artoo-Detoo.
Artoo beeps in response. Luke begins to scrape several connectors on the robot's head with a chrome pick. Threepio climbs out of the oil tub and begins wiping oil from his bronze body.
LUKE: You got a lot of carbon scoring here. It looks like you boys have seen a lot of action.
THREEPIO: With all we've been through, sometimes I'm amazed we're in as good condition as we are, what with the Rebellion and all.
LUKE: You know of the Rebellion against the Empire?
THREEPIO: That's how we came to be in your service, if you take my meaning, sir.
LUKE: Have you been in many battles?
THREEPIO: Several, I think. Actually, there's not much to tell. I'm not much more than an interpreter, and not very good at telling stories. Well, not at making them interesting, anyways.
Luke struggles to remove a small metal fragment from Artoo's neck joint. He uses a larger pick.
LUKE: Well, my little friend, you've got something jammed in here real good. Were you on a star cruiser or . . .
The fragment breaks loose with a snap, sending Luke tumbling head over heels.
He sits up and sees a twelve-inch three-dimensional hologram of Leia Organa, the Rebel senator, being projected from the face of little Artoo. The image is a rainbow of colors as it flickers and jiggles in the dimly lit garage. Luke's mouth hangs open in awe.
LEIA: Help me, Obi-Wan Kenobi. You're my only hope.
LUKE: What's this?
Artoo whistles his surprise as he pretends to just notice the hologram. Artoo sheepishly beeps an answer for Threepio to translate.
THREEPIO: What is what?!? He asked you a question. (pointing to Leia) What is that?
Leia continues to repeat the sentence fragment over and over.
LEIA: Help me, Obi-Wan Kenobi. You're my only hope. . . Help me, Obi-Wan Kenobi. You're my only hope.
THREEPIO: Oh, he says it's nothing, sir. Merely a malfunction. Old data. Pay it no mind.
Luke becomes intrigued by the beautiful girl.
LUKE: Who is she? She's beautiful.
THREEPIO: I'm afraid I'm not quite sure, sir.
LEIA: Help me, Obi-Wan Kenobi. You're my only hope..
THREEPIO: I think she was a passenger on our last voyage. A person of some importance, sir -- I believe. Our captain was attached to . . .
LUKE: Is there more to this recording?
Artoo lets out several frantic squeaks and a whistle.
THREEPIO: Behave yourself, Artoo. You're going to get us in trouble. It's allright, you can trust him. He's our new master.
Artoo whistles and beeps a long message to Threepio.
THREEPIO: He says he's the property of Obi-Wan Kenobi, a resident of these parts. And it's a private message for him. Quite frankly, sir I don't know what he's talking about. Our last master was Captain Antilles, but with what we've been through, this little R2 unit has become a bit eccentric.
LUKE: Obi-Wan Kenobi? I wonder if he means old Ben Kenobi?
THREEPIO: I beg your pardon, sir, but do you know what he's talking about?
LUKE: Well, I don't know anyone named Obi-Wan, but old Ben lives out beyond the dune sea. He's kind of a strange old hermit.
Luke's gazes at the beautiful young princess for a few moments.
LUKE: I wonder who she is. It sounds like she's in trouble. I'd better play back the whole thing.