星球大战 第三章(3)

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　　"No doubt about it, we’re doomed," he recited mournfully as Artoo righted himself, returning to full activation. "Do you think they’ll melt us down?" He became silent for several minutes, then added, "It’s this waiting that gets to me." Abruptly the far wall of the chamber slid aside and the blinding white glare of a Tatooine morning rushed in on them. Threepio’s sensitive photoreceptors were hard pressed to adjust in time to prevent serious damage.  
　　Several of the repulsive-looking jawas scrambled agilely into the chamber, still dressed in the same swathing and filth Threepio had observed on them before.  
& q6 R9 v0 h0 u% rUsing hard weapons of an unknown design, they prodded at the machines. Certain of them, Threepio noted with a mental swallow, did not stir.  
+ a  o9 g. m8 v- L; V4 M) s) S　　Ignoring the immobile ones, the jawas herded those still capable of movement outside, Artoo and Threepio among them. Both robots found themselves part of an uneven mechanical line.  
- P2 E+ m/ ~, T5 A# V, f　　Shielding his eyes against the glare, Threepio saw that five of them were arranged alongside the huge sandcrawler. Thoughts of escape did not enter his mind.  
　　Such a concept was utterly alien to a mechanical. The more intelligent a robot was, the more abhorrent and unthinkable the concept. Besides, had he tried to escape, built-in sensors would have detected the critical logic malfunction and melted every circuit in his brain.

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　　So intent was Threepio on his observation that he failed to notice the two figures moving toward them from the region of the largest dome. Artoo had to nudge him slightly before he looked up.  
8 [: w& R, M) M& \8 ^6 f; X8 n2 m, O3 s　　The first man wore an air of grim, semi-perpetual exhaustion, sandblasted into his face by too many years of arguing with a hostile environment. His graying hair was frozen in tangled twists like gypsum helicites. Dust frosted his face, clothes, hands, and thoughts. But the body, if not the spirit, was still powerful.  
- }0 v4 I- c3 ^　　Proportionately dwarfed by his uncle’s wrestler-like body, Luke strode slump- shouldered in his shadow, his present attitude one of dejection rather than exhaustion.

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　　Apparently Owen Lars had already come to a decision, having settled on a small semi-agricultural robot. This one was similar in shape to Artoo Detoo, save that its multiple subsidiary arms were tipped with different functions. At an order it had stepped out of the line and was wobbling along behind Owen and the temporarily subdued jawa.  
7 h; p5 y1 v, c; r- L7 h　　Proceeding to the end of the line, the farmer’s eyes narrowed as he concentrated on the sand-scoured but still flashy bronze finish of the tall, humanoid Threepio.  
　　"I presume you function," he grumbled at the robot. "Do you know customs and protocol?" "Do I know protocol?" Threepio echoed as the farmer looked him up and down.  
　　Threepio was determined to embarrass the jawa when it came to selling his abilities.  
( j4 {7 T) p+ \9 X+ @2 b　　"Do I know protocol! Why, it’s my primary function. I am also well—" "Don’t need a protocol ’droid," the farmer snapped dryly.  
　　"I don’t blame you, sir," Threepio rapidly agreed. "I couldn’t be more in agreement. What could be more of a wasteful luxury in a climate like this? For someone of your interests, sir, a protocol ’droid would be a useless waste of money.