(Aboard the newly reconstructed Death Star, Vader leads Luke into a turbolift which will take them to the Emperor. The turbolift's door closes, the car begins to rise, and muzak begins to pipe in through the speakers. Neither of them speaks.)
ANAKIN: Say something to him, man.
VADER: Like what?
A: Oh, I don't know: "Sorry I'm leading you down the path to damnation"? Or "Sorry I missed your second grade school play--I was out destroying the Jedi"? Or "Hey, how's Threepio these days?"?
V: We really have nothing to discuss.
A: C'mon, man. You can't just hand him over to Palpatine without saying *something*.
V: Well...
A: It doesn't even have to be a big something. Make it small. Small talk, y'know?
(The turbolift continues to rise. The muzak continues to play.)
VADER: (to LUKE--but without looking at him) I hate the music in these things. Makes you want to go out and destroy a planet.
(Luke regards his father a moment.)
LUKE: I...know what you mean. We've got the same problem with the lifts in our Rebel bases....I keep asking them to play something cool, like The Dead Jawas, or something, but they always turn me down.
VADER: (turning to face Luke) You're into The Dead Jawas, too?
LUKE: Are you kidding?
(Luke rolls up one sleeve to reveal a tattoo of a Jawa corpse on his bicep, with the words "The Dead Jawas" above it.)
VADER: (to LUKE) Wizard! Uh...I mean, most impressive.
LUKE: Isn't it? I got it at their concert on Ord Mantell a couple of years ago.
VADER: I think I heard about that one! Isn't that the one where they had a drum solo that lasted for--
LUKE: --fourteen days! Yeah! It was bitchin', man.
VADER: Cool...
(There's an awkward moment of silence. They both look away.)
A: Dude, I think you guys just bonded! I'm so proud of you.
V: Be quiet. There'll be no time for such frivolity once the Emperor begins his training.
A: Whoa, whoa, whoa there, buddy! This kid's too cool to turn over to Palpatine! He likes The Dead Jawas, for cryin' out loud! Most young folks these days are into The Backstreet Bith, or crap like that...
V: True...
A: I say you just bail on this whole thing, ditch Palpatine, and go out club-hopping with the boy, here. A little wholesome father/son mosh pit action.
V: And what am I supposed to do *after* the clubs, huh? Not a whole lot of employment opportunities for a former Dark Lord of the Sith...
A: You could always become the announcer for the Corellian News Network. (in a deep voice:) "This...is CNN."
V: I don't think so.
A: You could be a bouncer...
V: No.
A: Door-to-door salesman? Who's gonna say no to *you*, right?
V: Forget it.
A: Motivational speaker?
V: No.
A: Circus midget?
(silence)
A: Okay, forget all that--you can figure things out later! Just *do* something, already!
V: Well...
(Vader's hand starts to stray toward the turbolift controls.)
A: C'mon, man! We're running out of time, here!
(Vader's hand gets closer.)
A: Hurry!
(Just as Vader's finger is about to touch the "stop" button, the turbolift door opens onto the Emperor's throne room.)
A: Well...crapola.
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