CUT TO
Siri and Corin elsewhere on the promenade.
With a pair of ice cream cones in their respective hands, the two women make idle small talk. As they pass by a shooting gallery booth, a CARNIE WITH IMPOSSIBLE HAIR lunges out the open booth window, a preternaturally wide, toothy grin plastered across his wizened face.
CARNIE: (chipper) Why, hello ladies! You wouldn't happen to be interested in a little target practice, would you?
Hearing the man's exuberant voice, the two women stop in their tracks. As they turn to face him, his already unnaturally big grin expands tenfold.
LARGE CARNIE: (cont'd) Why, of course you'd be! So step right on up, my dears! I don't bite! Scout's honour!
Exchanging glances, Corin and Siri give a collective shrug. Finishing their cones, they approach the booth.
Drawing back into the booth, the carnie moves over to a small gun rack holding a small number of lightweight toy rifles. Collecting two of them, he activates their small power packs before returning to his visitors.
CARNIE: (hands the rifles to the women) Here you are! Two laser rifles! These are true laser rifles now, mind you, not blasters! They project low-powered laser beams, not concentrated plasma bursts! Fit for family fun on all civilized worlds, but if you're looking to fight a pitched battle with enemy forces on an open battlefield, this is not the ordinance for you! (lowers his voice) I have to say all that for legal reasons, you see. The Authority would flay my hide if I did otherwise.
Accepting the toy weapons, the ladies give them a once-over, looking for all the world like they don't know how to handle the guns or to what purpose.
Reaching over to the wall on his right, the carnie presses a large red button. Almost instantly, thirty small holograms representing various game birds and other flying creatures familiar throughout the Known Regions flicker to life at the far back wall of the booth. Every couple seconds, the various holograms wink in and out of being along an irregular pattern.
CARNIE: Your objective is to shoot out as many of the holograms as you can within a minute! Repeat hits do not count! I repeat -- do not count! (beat) Now begin, and be careful not to shoot yourselves or me in the eye!
Stepping off to the side, the carnie allows the two blondes a clear shot at the holograms. Not used to handling firearms, it takes a couple moments for Siri to get a grip on how to handle her rifle. Corin, on the other hand, wields the toy like a pro; in a micro-second she has the rifle held at the ready, eye focused along the sight of the barrel with her finger tensed over the trigger.
A minute passes. Siri hits eleven of the holograms, not counting repeats. Corin hits twenty-nine.
CARNIE: (whistles) Wow-ee! I've never seen a soul hit twenty-nine of the thirty holograms in non-repeating succession before! Not in sixty years on nineteen worlds!
CORIN: (hands her rifle back to the carnie) What's my prize?
CARNIE: (flabbergasted) Your prize? (beat) Ah, right -- your prize! Just a moment!
The carnie crosses over to a shelf loaded with various prizes. Reaching for the top shelf, he grabs and then pulls down the top prize.
CARNIE: (hands the prize to Corin) Here you are, my lovely girl! A prize worthy of a prize such as yourself!
Corin accepts the stuffed bantha with subdued joy.
CUT TO
Corin and Siri back on their trek along the promenade.
SIRI: You're an amazing shot, Corin. I'm serious -- you handled the toy like a professional sharpshooter.
CORIN: (shrugs) I've had practice.
SIRI: So tell me -- where'd you get your "practice".
CORIN: My father was a police officer. When I was a kid, he took me up to the shooting range every weekend. He'd spend three hours with me each time, teaching me how to hold, aim, and fire a blaster the right way.
SIRI: Police officer? You mean --?
CORIN: He wasn't an Espo. (beat) Or I guess you could say he was, but this was before the Authority became so militarized, so corrupt. (beat) He was a good, honest man. He hated what the Security Police turned into.
SIRI: Is life so bad here?
CORIN: When Nashira was young, Nemec and I could take her out on hunting trips into the woods. Ten years ago, though, all undeveloped regions of Orron III were declared "agricultural reserves" by the Authority. Anyone who goes into a forested area without authorization is quickly picked up by Espo scanners and twice as quickly tracked and shot down like an animal.
SIRI: Did you ever consider leaving? Just packing up and moving out of the Corporate Sector?
CORIN: We could sell our farm -- stars know the Authority's eagre to buy the remaining independent farms out. That way we'd have enough money to charter a flight to some place where we'd be able to dip our feet into a running stream without fear of receiving a fine. But then what? We'd be flat broke. We'd never be able to start over.
SIRI: Corin, you must know that Obi-Wan and I'd be perfectly willing to help you. I have connections. I could --
CORIN: (holds up her hand) Thank you, Siri, but no thanks. (beat) Were it up to me, I'd accept your generous proposal at the drop of a hat. Unfortunately, Nemec's not as liberal-minded as I am. He's always believed a sentient makes its own way in the Galaxy; he'd never accept a "free lunch" as he calls it.
SIRI: That is truly a shame. The war aside, the Empire's a wonderful place. You wouldn't have to live in fear of totalitarian brutality there.
CORIN: I'll admit your Empire sounds like a nice place to live. Still, you'll excuse me if I don't quite buy into your utopian appraisal.
SIRI: What do you mean?
CORIN: You make it out as if the Empire is run by benevolent caretakers who just want to keep its people safe and warm, but didn't your government place the Wookiee homeworld under martial law following your previous war?
SIRI: It was an unwelcome decision but a necessary one. The circumstances on Kashyyyk had become dire. The planet had become a hotbed of Separatist activity; the disarmament procedures weren't running well so we had to crack down. It was better than the alternative.
CORIN: Alright, I'll grant you that one -- desperate times call for desperate measures -- but this was several years ago; you can't tell me matters haven't cooled down since then.
SIRI: We've been engaged in a devastating war with the Clonemasters, Corin. Our men and resources have been stretched far and thin for far too long. We haven't had the luxury of being able to focus our attentions on Kashyyyk and the Wookiees.
Corin silently decides to let the conversation end there.