She must be important—especially if what you told me just now is true, Threepio.
She sounds and looks as if she’s in some kind of trouble. Maybe the message is important. We ought to hear the rest of it." He reached again for the Artoo’s internal controls, and the robot scurried backward again, squeaking a blue streak.
"He says there’s a restraining separator bolt that’s circuiting out his self- motivation components." Threepio translated. "He suggests that if you move the bolt he might be able to repeat the entire message," Threepio finished uncertainly.
When Luke continued to stare at the portrait, Threepio added, more loudly "Sir!" Luke shook himself. "What…? Oh, yes." He considered the request.
Then he moved and peered into the open panel. This time Artoo didn’t retreat.
"I see it, I think. Well, I guess you’re too small to run away from me if I take this off. I wonder what someone would be sending a message to old Ben for." Selecting the proper tool, Luke reached down into the exposed circuitry and popped the restraining bolt free. The first noticeable result of this action was that the portrait disappeared.
Luke stood back. "There, now." There was an uncomfortable pause during which the hologram showed no sign of returning. "Where did she go?" Luke finally prompted. "Make her come back. Play the entire message, Artoo Detoo." An innocent-sounding beep came from the robot. Threepio appeared embarrassed and nervous as he translated. "He said. ’What message?’ " Threepio’s attention turned half angrily to his companion. "What message? You know what message! The one you just played a fragment of for us. The one you’re hauling around inside tour recalcitrant, rust-ridden innards, you stubborn bunk of junk!" Artoo sat and hummed softly to himself.
"I’m sorry, sir," Threepio said slowly, "but he shows signs of having developed an alarming flutter in his obedience-rational module. Perhaps if we—" a voice from down a corridor interrupted him. "Luke…oh, Luke—come to dinner!" Luke hesitated, then rose and turned away from the puzzling little ’droid.
"Okay," he called, "I’m coming. Aunt Beru!" He lowered his voice as he spoke to Threepio. "See what you can do with him. I’ll be back soon." Tossing the just- removed restraining bolt on the workbench, he hurried from the chamber, As soon as the human was gone, Threepio whirled on his shorter companion.
"You’d better consider playing that whole recording for him," he growled, with suggestive nod toward a workbench laden with dismembered machine parts.
"Otherwise he’s liable to take up that cleaning pick again and go digging for it. He might not be too careful what he cuts through if he believes you’re deliberately withholding something from him." A plaintive beep came from Artoo.
"No," Threepio responded, "I don’t think he likes you at all." A second beep failed to alter the stern tone in the taller robot’s voice. "No, I don’t like you, either."
责任编辑：mman
