NC-217's Dream: A Short Screenplay

Setting:  An empty cafeteria, with a large window looking out upon a starry sky.

Two armored Imperial Storm Troopers walk into the room, chatting amicably, carrying lunch boxes.  They sit down and remove their helmets.  NC-217 is a young, blond man in his late teens.  PG-8115 is a few years older, with dark hair.  They open their lunch boxes and begin to eat.

217:  [Around mouthfuls of food] So, I had the craziest dream last night.

8115:  Yeah?

217:  Yeah.  You were in it, too.  There was this big rebellion against the Empire...

8115:  [Snorts loudly] Like that's gonna happen.  I'm telling you, kid, this Death Star is the key to peace in this galaxy.  Once we finish welding those blast grates over the thermal exhaust ports...Nobody's gonna make trouble now.

217:  Yeah, but in this dream, there was a rebellion, and get this--you and me were in it.  I think we were even some kind of leaders.  It was awesome--We got to fly around in fighters, be big heroes, and kiss pretty girls, and...

8115:  [Laughs]  Wishful thinking, kid.  Wishful thinking.  Just once I'd love to get behind the controls of one of those Tie fighters.  Lemme tell you something about pretty girls, though...

217:  [Laughing] No, no, no!  I was flying a fighter of some kind and brought down an ATAT...With a HARPOON!  

8115:  [Snorts and nearly chokes on a mouthful of food; grabs a thermos and takes a drink]

217:   We had civilian names, too.  Check this out:  I was...[with exaggerated drama] Luke...SKYWALKER!

8115: [Spits coffee across table]  Oh, that's beautiful!  Suits you.  How 'bout me?  Do I get a name in this dream universe?

217:  Han Solo.

8115:  Hmmm...I like yours better.

217:  Oh, but the name of your ship--get this:

8115:  I had my own ship?  This gets better and better!

217:  Yeah.  The Millennium Fahlcon.

8115:  [Snorts again]  Well, that's more like it.  Millennium Fahlcon. 

217:  It could make the Kessel Run in 12 parsecs!

8115:  [Glances at clock on wall, stands and begins rapidly repacking lunch box]  Hey, kid, we're gonna HAVE to run if we're gonna make it to target practice on time.  Come on!

217:  [Stands up and begins packing box]  Target practice!  So in this dream, you and me?  Rag-tag rebels with no training?  We couldn't MISS with our blasters.  But the Imperial Storm Troopers?  Couldn't hit anything.  It was crazy--like they were missing on purpose or something.

8115:  [Pulling on helmet and walking off stage]  Yeah, that's great, kid.  Next you're gonna tell me we got massacred by teddy bears, or something.  Come on!  [Exits stage]

217  Stands staring longingly out the window...

Voice from Off Stage:  NC-217!  Your nourishment interval ended 30 seconds ago.  Why are you still here?  Are you ill?

217 Quickly finishes loading lunchbox, looks out window again, heaves a deep, regretful sigh...then grabs helmet and rushes off stage.

The End

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