Disclaimer: See Part 1.
*****
INT - IMPERIAL FLAGSHIP
In a maintenance room, the catch on a set of metal double doors rattles, gently at first, then more energetically. They are locked from our side, and won't budge.
VYOOM...
The blade of Rincewind's lightsaber eases through the gap between the doors, cuts through the bolt, and vanishes. The doors are pushed open from within, revealing Rincewind as he returns the lightsaber handle to his belt, and his new friend. Rincewind exits the maintenance shed for the landing strut, then scoops up the swamp dragon when it balks.
RINCEWIND
[to the dragon] Come on, you. If I have to be here, you come with me. [surveys his new surroundings] All righty... I'm still not sure this is such a hot idea... but as long as I'm here my inner Jedi sure as hell isn't going to let me leave.
The dragon chirps in confusion.
RINCEWIND
Don't ask. Now, if I were the evil supreme overlord of the galaxy, where would I put my hostages?
He makes his way to another door opposite the maintenance shed and presses his ear against it to listen. Upon hearing nothing, he opens the door and steps out into the corridor.
TROOPER [o.s.]
Hey, you!
Rincewind freezes, then turns his head to look at the stormtrooper. The dragon is currently hidden under his cloak.
RINCEWIND
Um... Hi.
The trooper points his rifle at Rincewind.
TROOPER
Don't move!
He steps towards the trembling wizzard.
TROOPER [contd.]
Now, put your hands where I can see them!
RINCEWIND
I... can't do that.
TROOPER
Why not?
Rincewind turns so the dragon in his arms is visible. It hisses at the storm trooper.
TROOPER
What the hell—?
The dragon belches, and a ball of blue-green flame rolls out of its mouth.
ELSEWHERE...
Darth Vetinari looks up with an expression of hawklike alertness. He has sensed Rincewind.
TROOPER
Sir?
Vetinari looks back at the group of stormtroopers, who are presenting him with Lady Ramkin as one of their hostages. Her wrists are bound behind her back and the troopers on either side of her hold her firmly, despite her struggles.
DARTH VETINARI
Lady Sybil Ramkin... the Dragon Lady. Wife to the leader of the Rebel Alliance. This is quite a pleasant turn of events. Tell me, Lady Sybil, do you think your husband would die for your sake?
LADY SYBIL
I remember when you were a *proper* civic leader, *Havelock*!
He flinches at her use of his given name in mixed company.
DARTH VETINARI
Lord Havelock Vetinari was merely the Patrician of Ankh-Morpork. [smugly] As for me... the entire Disc fears the name of Darth Vetinari!
LADY SYBIL
Heartless bastard...
DARTH VETINARI
[amused] Bastard? My dear Sybil, I can trace my noble lineage back five generations - which is more that I can say for that Shades-born husband of yours.
She wrenches her way out of the troopers' grip and charges the Sith Lord. He coolly holds up a hand, and she is stopped barely inches from doing serious injury to him, her feet locked to the floor. He offers her a self- important ghost of a smile. She spits in his face. He reflexively flinches back, then wipes the spittle off his cheek with a gloved hand and appears to study it.
DARTH VETINARI
You know, I was fully prepared to provide you with comfortable accommodations, because of course your safety is vital to your value as a hostage. Your noncooperation is wearing my patience thin.
LADY SYBIL
Well, it's not my fault you feel inadequate.
DARTH VETINARI
I beg your pardon?
LADY SYBIL
[desperate to get her licks in] That bloody lightsaber you swing about! Everybody KNOWS what that thing symbolizes!
Vetinari reddens.
DARTH VETINARI
GUARDS! Take her away! Maybe a night with the scorpions will teach her some manners!
The stormtroopers grab her by the arms and drag her away.
LADY SYBIL
By the way, NICE PERFUME!
Vetinari grinds his teeth and takes a few cleansing breaths. Eventually he notices the lone officer still hanging about near him.
DARTH VETINARI
I trust you weren't paying any attention to that.
OFFICER
No sir. I wasn't paying any attention to the remarks she made regarding the size of your lightsaber.
DARTH VETINARI
Good. You're dismissed.
The officer salutes, turns smartly on his heel, and walks away. A few beats later:
DARTH VETINARI
Wait a minute...
EXT - LANCRE - SWAMP
Threepio appears to have gotten whatever he needed to get out of his system, out of his system. He is still agitated, though, as Carrot attempts to clean the mud and such out of the droid.
CARROT
Feel better?
PONDER THREEPIO
A bit. This place is creepy, though.
Carrot pauses in his cleaning and looks around at their surroundings. Fog hangs thickly in the air, clinging damply to the two travellers and muffling any sounds, so that it becomes difficult to gauge how far away a sound is. Occasionally the sodden earth releases a bubble of natural gas. Carrot shivers and returns his attention to the droid, who is now standing very still, compared to his previous fidgeting, and looking fixedly at something offscreen, located behind and somewhat to the right of Carrot.
PONDER THREEPIO
Sir...
CARROT
[re: the swamp] It does kind of give me the creeps.
PONDER THREEPIO
Sir...?
CARROT
It just feels like...
PONDER THREEPIO
[urgently] Sir?!
CARROT
... Like...
VOICE [o.s.]
Feels like what?
Carrot turns around and jumps back in one less-than-fluid movement, nearly colliding with Threepio, and points his blaster at the newcomer.
He finds himself aiming at an old woman, clad all in black, her gray hair in a severe bun, with a pointy witch's hat secured to her head with about thirty hatpins. She is tall and thin, with a piercing stare, and above all, she looms.
OLD WOMAN
Put your weapon away. I mean you no harm.
[Carrot slowly lowers his blaster]
I was just curious.
CARROT
Curious? About what?
OLD WOMAN
About what brings you to Lancre.
CARROT
I was told I could find somebody here.
OLD WOMAN
[amused] And so it seems you have.
CARROT
A great Jedi sorceress.
OLD WOMAN
A sorceress?! [starts laughing] Ain't nobody around here but me.
CARROT
[disappointed] Oh. Maybe you could tell us where we could find this Weatherwax person.
OLD WOMAN
Oh, *her*. I know all about her.
CARROT
[brightening] Can you take us to her?
OLD WOMAN
Of course. But first, you better dry off and get a hot meal in you. You both look like you've been dragged the wrong way through a sewer pipe. [beckons] Follow me.
She pulls her threadbare cloak about her and strides away, not checking to see if either one of them follows her.
Carrot and Threepio exchange a glance.
PONDER THREEPIO
[wearily] I'll watch the camp.
CARROT
Thanks.
Carrot jogs off after the Old Woman.
INT - STAR DESTROYER
Darth Vetinari, his moment of triumph once again spoiled by his own hostage, stomps down the corridor to a piece best titled "The Imperial Tantrum." A officer approaches him nervously, sensing his mood.
OFFICER
Sir...?
DARTH VETINARI
This has really not been a good week for me. I hope that whatever you feel is so important that you would approach me now, of all times, and risk the possibility of getting your head crushed like an egg, is sufficiently important that I find a reason to refrain from doing so.
The officer swallows hard, thinking that maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all.
DARTH VETINARI
Well? Speak up! I haven't got all day! Why did you want to see me?
OFFICER
[weakly] Homicide, sir.
DARTH VETINARI
Homicide. Ours, theirs, or yours?
OFFICER
Erm...
Vetinari stares at the balking officer hard enough to give the officer a nosebleed. Said officer, noting the sensation, begins hyperventilating.
OFFICER [contd.]
One of our... our g... guards was killed by, by some maniac with a, a, a flamethrower. S... s... sir.
DARTH VETINARI
A flamethrower.
OFFICER
Yessir.
DARTH VETINARI
Where?
OFFICER
Near one of the maintenance sheds. I can show you if you like.
DARTH VETINARI
You do that.
Exeunt Darth Vetinari and the Officer. At the end of the hall in which they were just standing, Rincewind slips past an open doorway, trailing a few wisps of smoke. He still has the dragon under his arm.
ON RINCEWIND
as he scurries down the corridor, trying to avoid detection... despite, or because of, his reptilian cargo. He slides to a halt at a T-junction and flattens himself against the wall next to the side passage. The dragon mimics Rincewind's posture, extending its neck up to rest against his shoulder. After a few tense beats, both wizzard and dragon lean over to peer cautiously around the corner.
There, about twenty feet away, Rincewind sees Preston and Logan engaged in conversation.
LOGAN
Dude, this future sucks!
PRESTON
Totally... but the Sith-dude confiscated our phone booth.
Rincewind mouths "Sith-dude?"
The dragon trills in agreement.
LOGAN
You think he *really* put her in a scorpion pit?
PRESTON
It would be totally heinous of him if he did - and bogus for her.
The dragon snuffles like it has to sneeze. Rincewind stares at it, motioning frantically for it to stay quiet.
LOGAN
Maybe we could ask him to be nice to her?
The dragon continues snuffling - a sneeze is nearly inevitable. Rincewind puts his finger across its nose to stave off the impending sneeze.
PRESTON
Dude, I dunno if that would work. He's totally evil.
The dragon bites Rincewind's finger, and Rincewind jerks his hand away, shaking it and emoting in silent pain.
The dragon sneezes explosively, the force of the sneeze producing a small, short-lived, but conspicuous fireball.
Preston and Logan look towards the sound and the flash, just in time to see Rincewind and the dragon duck back around the corner.
PRESTON
Dude? Someone there?
RINCEWIND
No!
Preston and Logan exchange a puzzled glance.
RINCEWIND [contd.]
It's just a... [sotto] shit... [aloud] [echo] It's just a, er, an atmospheric anomaly! [/echo]
LOGAN
[to Preston] I didn't take chemistry this year. What's an... [hesitates]
RINCEWIND
[helping] Atmospheric anomaly!
LOGAN
Thanks, dude.
RINCEWIND
No problem.
PRESTON
I think that means someone lit a fart in the corridor.
Rincewind absorbs this definition thoughtfully, then looks at the dragon in his arms.
RINCEWIND
[sotto] That's about what it smelled like, anyway.
The dragon scowls and puts its ear-frills back at him. I am *not* an atmospheric anomaly, it seems to be saying.
LOGAN
[re: the lit fart theory] Yah. There *has* to be someone on this ship who isn't totally lame.
PRESTON
How fortuitous that we had that dude hiding around the corner to tell us.
Rincewind jumps, then mouths a curse. Of course they *had* to be immune to Jedi mind tricks. He takes a deep breath and rounds the corner to confront them.
RINCEWIND
[resigned] Okay, you got me. I might as well tell you why I'm here, because otherwise you'll just torture it out of me with red-hot pokers and rather intimate bits of me.
Preston and Logan exchange another bewildered glance. Obviously this was the furthest thing from their mind.
PRESTON
Dude. Chill.
Rincewind looks at them apprehensively, holding the swamp dragon in front of his chest like a shield.
LOGAN
Don't tell the Sith-dude, but we're totally good guys, too.
RINCEWIND
Good... guys?
PRESTON/ LOGAN
Totally.
RINCEWIND
Ah. Yes. I see.
It is clear he doesn't.
PRESTON
Allow us to introduce ourselves. I am Bill S. Preston, Esquire...
LOGAN
And I am Ted "Theodore" Logan...
PRESTON
Together we are...
PRESTON/ LOGAN
Wyld Stallyns!
Massive double air guitar.
Rincewind looks at them with the carefully blank expression of the sane humouring the insane.
RINCEWIND
[diplomatically] ... Right... Yes... Wild stallions... Gotcha.
There is a long pause.
RINCEWIND
[abruptly] I don't suppose either of you might know where they've put Lady Sybil--after all, me being a good guy I'm under a narrative obligation to rescue her and all... and give her back...[trails off, indicating the dragon]
LOGAN
Oh, we totally understand, right Bill?
PRESTON
Totally. The scorpion pits are down that way [points down the corridor the way he and Logan had come], the third left, listen for the screaming.
RINCEWIND
[alarmed] They're not torturing her, are they?
LOGAN
We heard she pulled one of the guards in when they threw her in.
RINCEWIND
Oh... poor guard.
PRESTON / LOGAN
[agreeing] Dude.
RINCEWIND
Well. I'll be going then.
He touches the brim of his hat to them and starts off.
PRESTON
We'll give the Dark Lord a melvin for you!
Rincewind pauses, nearly asks what a melvin is, finally decides he doesn't want to know that badly, and continues on.
*****
End Part 5.
*****
INT - IMPERIAL FLAGSHIP
In a maintenance room, the catch on a set of metal double doors rattles, gently at first, then more energetically. They are locked from our side, and won't budge.
VYOOM...
The blade of Rincewind's lightsaber eases through the gap between the doors, cuts through the bolt, and vanishes. The doors are pushed open from within, revealing Rincewind as he returns the lightsaber handle to his belt, and his new friend. Rincewind exits the maintenance shed for the landing strut, then scoops up the swamp dragon when it balks.
RINCEWIND
[to the dragon] Come on, you. If I have to be here, you come with me. [surveys his new surroundings] All righty... I'm still not sure this is such a hot idea... but as long as I'm here my inner Jedi sure as hell isn't going to let me leave.
The dragon chirps in confusion.
RINCEWIND
Don't ask. Now, if I were the evil supreme overlord of the galaxy, where would I put my hostages?
He makes his way to another door opposite the maintenance shed and presses his ear against it to listen. Upon hearing nothing, he opens the door and steps out into the corridor.
TROOPER [o.s.]
Hey, you!
Rincewind freezes, then turns his head to look at the stormtrooper. The dragon is currently hidden under his cloak.
RINCEWIND
Um... Hi.
The trooper points his rifle at Rincewind.
TROOPER
Don't move!
He steps towards the trembling wizzard.
TROOPER [contd.]
Now, put your hands where I can see them!
RINCEWIND
I... can't do that.
TROOPER
Why not?
Rincewind turns so the dragon in his arms is visible. It hisses at the storm trooper.
TROOPER
What the hell—?
The dragon belches, and a ball of blue-green flame rolls out of its mouth.
ELSEWHERE...
Darth Vetinari looks up with an expression of hawklike alertness. He has sensed Rincewind.
TROOPER
Sir?
Vetinari looks back at the group of stormtroopers, who are presenting him with Lady Ramkin as one of their hostages. Her wrists are bound behind her back and the troopers on either side of her hold her firmly, despite her struggles.
DARTH VETINARI
Lady Sybil Ramkin... the Dragon Lady. Wife to the leader of the Rebel Alliance. This is quite a pleasant turn of events. Tell me, Lady Sybil, do you think your husband would die for your sake?
LADY SYBIL
I remember when you were a *proper* civic leader, *Havelock*!
He flinches at her use of his given name in mixed company.
DARTH VETINARI
Lord Havelock Vetinari was merely the Patrician of Ankh-Morpork. [smugly] As for me... the entire Disc fears the name of Darth Vetinari!
LADY SYBIL
Heartless bastard...
DARTH VETINARI
[amused] Bastard? My dear Sybil, I can trace my noble lineage back five generations - which is more that I can say for that Shades-born husband of yours.
She wrenches her way out of the troopers' grip and charges the Sith Lord. He coolly holds up a hand, and she is stopped barely inches from doing serious injury to him, her feet locked to the floor. He offers her a self- important ghost of a smile. She spits in his face. He reflexively flinches back, then wipes the spittle off his cheek with a gloved hand and appears to study it.
DARTH VETINARI
You know, I was fully prepared to provide you with comfortable accommodations, because of course your safety is vital to your value as a hostage. Your noncooperation is wearing my patience thin.
LADY SYBIL
Well, it's not my fault you feel inadequate.
DARTH VETINARI
I beg your pardon?
LADY SYBIL
[desperate to get her licks in] That bloody lightsaber you swing about! Everybody KNOWS what that thing symbolizes!
Vetinari reddens.
DARTH VETINARI
GUARDS! Take her away! Maybe a night with the scorpions will teach her some manners!
The stormtroopers grab her by the arms and drag her away.
LADY SYBIL
By the way, NICE PERFUME!
Vetinari grinds his teeth and takes a few cleansing breaths. Eventually he notices the lone officer still hanging about near him.
DARTH VETINARI
I trust you weren't paying any attention to that.
OFFICER
No sir. I wasn't paying any attention to the remarks she made regarding the size of your lightsaber.
DARTH VETINARI
Good. You're dismissed.
The officer salutes, turns smartly on his heel, and walks away. A few beats later:
DARTH VETINARI
Wait a minute...
EXT - LANCRE - SWAMP
Threepio appears to have gotten whatever he needed to get out of his system, out of his system. He is still agitated, though, as Carrot attempts to clean the mud and such out of the droid.
CARROT
Feel better?
PONDER THREEPIO
A bit. This place is creepy, though.
Carrot pauses in his cleaning and looks around at their surroundings. Fog hangs thickly in the air, clinging damply to the two travellers and muffling any sounds, so that it becomes difficult to gauge how far away a sound is. Occasionally the sodden earth releases a bubble of natural gas. Carrot shivers and returns his attention to the droid, who is now standing very still, compared to his previous fidgeting, and looking fixedly at something offscreen, located behind and somewhat to the right of Carrot.
PONDER THREEPIO
Sir...
CARROT
[re: the swamp] It does kind of give me the creeps.
PONDER THREEPIO
Sir...?
CARROT
It just feels like...
PONDER THREEPIO
[urgently] Sir?!
CARROT
... Like...
VOICE [o.s.]
Feels like what?
Carrot turns around and jumps back in one less-than-fluid movement, nearly colliding with Threepio, and points his blaster at the newcomer.
He finds himself aiming at an old woman, clad all in black, her gray hair in a severe bun, with a pointy witch's hat secured to her head with about thirty hatpins. She is tall and thin, with a piercing stare, and above all, she looms.
OLD WOMAN
Put your weapon away. I mean you no harm.
[Carrot slowly lowers his blaster]
I was just curious.
CARROT
Curious? About what?
OLD WOMAN
About what brings you to Lancre.
CARROT
I was told I could find somebody here.
OLD WOMAN
[amused] And so it seems you have.
CARROT
A great Jedi sorceress.
OLD WOMAN
A sorceress?! [starts laughing] Ain't nobody around here but me.
CARROT
[disappointed] Oh. Maybe you could tell us where we could find this Weatherwax person.
OLD WOMAN
Oh, *her*. I know all about her.
CARROT
[brightening] Can you take us to her?
OLD WOMAN
Of course. But first, you better dry off and get a hot meal in you. You both look like you've been dragged the wrong way through a sewer pipe. [beckons] Follow me.
She pulls her threadbare cloak about her and strides away, not checking to see if either one of them follows her.
Carrot and Threepio exchange a glance.
PONDER THREEPIO
[wearily] I'll watch the camp.
CARROT
Thanks.
Carrot jogs off after the Old Woman.
INT - STAR DESTROYER
Darth Vetinari, his moment of triumph once again spoiled by his own hostage, stomps down the corridor to a piece best titled "The Imperial Tantrum." A officer approaches him nervously, sensing his mood.
OFFICER
Sir...?
DARTH VETINARI
This has really not been a good week for me. I hope that whatever you feel is so important that you would approach me now, of all times, and risk the possibility of getting your head crushed like an egg, is sufficiently important that I find a reason to refrain from doing so.
The officer swallows hard, thinking that maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all.
DARTH VETINARI
Well? Speak up! I haven't got all day! Why did you want to see me?
OFFICER
[weakly] Homicide, sir.
DARTH VETINARI
Homicide. Ours, theirs, or yours?
OFFICER
Erm...
Vetinari stares at the balking officer hard enough to give the officer a nosebleed. Said officer, noting the sensation, begins hyperventilating.
OFFICER [contd.]
One of our... our g... guards was killed by, by some maniac with a, a, a flamethrower. S... s... sir.
DARTH VETINARI
A flamethrower.
OFFICER
Yessir.
DARTH VETINARI
Where?
OFFICER
Near one of the maintenance sheds. I can show you if you like.
DARTH VETINARI
You do that.
Exeunt Darth Vetinari and the Officer. At the end of the hall in which they were just standing, Rincewind slips past an open doorway, trailing a few wisps of smoke. He still has the dragon under his arm.
ON RINCEWIND
as he scurries down the corridor, trying to avoid detection... despite, or because of, his reptilian cargo. He slides to a halt at a T-junction and flattens himself against the wall next to the side passage. The dragon mimics Rincewind's posture, extending its neck up to rest against his shoulder. After a few tense beats, both wizzard and dragon lean over to peer cautiously around the corner.
There, about twenty feet away, Rincewind sees Preston and Logan engaged in conversation.
LOGAN
Dude, this future sucks!
PRESTON
Totally... but the Sith-dude confiscated our phone booth.
Rincewind mouths "Sith-dude?"
The dragon trills in agreement.
LOGAN
You think he *really* put her in a scorpion pit?
PRESTON
It would be totally heinous of him if he did - and bogus for her.
The dragon snuffles like it has to sneeze. Rincewind stares at it, motioning frantically for it to stay quiet.
LOGAN
Maybe we could ask him to be nice to her?
The dragon continues snuffling - a sneeze is nearly inevitable. Rincewind puts his finger across its nose to stave off the impending sneeze.
PRESTON
Dude, I dunno if that would work. He's totally evil.
The dragon bites Rincewind's finger, and Rincewind jerks his hand away, shaking it and emoting in silent pain.
The dragon sneezes explosively, the force of the sneeze producing a small, short-lived, but conspicuous fireball.
Preston and Logan look towards the sound and the flash, just in time to see Rincewind and the dragon duck back around the corner.
PRESTON
Dude? Someone there?
RINCEWIND
No!
Preston and Logan exchange a puzzled glance.
RINCEWIND [contd.]
It's just a... [sotto] shit... [aloud] [echo] It's just a, er, an atmospheric anomaly! [/echo]
LOGAN
[to Preston] I didn't take chemistry this year. What's an... [hesitates]
RINCEWIND
[helping] Atmospheric anomaly!
LOGAN
Thanks, dude.
RINCEWIND
No problem.
PRESTON
I think that means someone lit a fart in the corridor.
Rincewind absorbs this definition thoughtfully, then looks at the dragon in his arms.
RINCEWIND
[sotto] That's about what it smelled like, anyway.
The dragon scowls and puts its ear-frills back at him. I am *not* an atmospheric anomaly, it seems to be saying.
LOGAN
[re: the lit fart theory] Yah. There *has* to be someone on this ship who isn't totally lame.
PRESTON
How fortuitous that we had that dude hiding around the corner to tell us.
Rincewind jumps, then mouths a curse. Of course they *had* to be immune to Jedi mind tricks. He takes a deep breath and rounds the corner to confront them.
RINCEWIND
[resigned] Okay, you got me. I might as well tell you why I'm here, because otherwise you'll just torture it out of me with red-hot pokers and rather intimate bits of me.
Preston and Logan exchange another bewildered glance. Obviously this was the furthest thing from their mind.
PRESTON
Dude. Chill.
Rincewind looks at them apprehensively, holding the swamp dragon in front of his chest like a shield.
LOGAN
Don't tell the Sith-dude, but we're totally good guys, too.
RINCEWIND
Good... guys?
PRESTON/ LOGAN
Totally.
RINCEWIND
Ah. Yes. I see.
It is clear he doesn't.
PRESTON
Allow us to introduce ourselves. I am Bill S. Preston, Esquire...
LOGAN
And I am Ted "Theodore" Logan...
PRESTON
Together we are...
PRESTON/ LOGAN
Wyld Stallyns!
Massive double air guitar.
Rincewind looks at them with the carefully blank expression of the sane humouring the insane.
RINCEWIND
[diplomatically] ... Right... Yes... Wild stallions... Gotcha.
There is a long pause.
RINCEWIND
[abruptly] I don't suppose either of you might know where they've put Lady Sybil--after all, me being a good guy I'm under a narrative obligation to rescue her and all... and give her back...[trails off, indicating the dragon]
LOGAN
Oh, we totally understand, right Bill?
PRESTON
Totally. The scorpion pits are down that way [points down the corridor the way he and Logan had come], the third left, listen for the screaming.
RINCEWIND
[alarmed] They're not torturing her, are they?
LOGAN
We heard she pulled one of the guards in when they threw her in.
RINCEWIND
Oh... poor guard.
PRESTON / LOGAN
[agreeing] Dude.
RINCEWIND
Well. I'll be going then.
He touches the brim of his hat to them and starts off.
PRESTON
We'll give the Dark Lord a melvin for you!
Rincewind pauses, nearly asks what a melvin is, finally decides he doesn't want to know that badly, and continues on.
*****
End Part 5.