星球大战第三章(6)
分类: TOEIC托业英语
Threepio watched, interested, as Luke worked. "There’s a lot of strange carbon scoring here of a seen a lot of action out of the ordinary." "Indeed, sir," Threepio admitted, forgetting to drop the honorific. This time Luke was too absorbed elsewhere to correct him. "Sometimes I’m amazed we’re in as good shape as we are." He added as an afterthought, while still shying away from the thrust of Luke’s question, "What with the rebellion and all." Despite his caution, it seemed to Threepio that he must have given something away, for an almost jawa-like blaze appeared in Luke’s eyes. "You know about the rebellion against the Empire?" he demanded.
"In a way," Threepio confessed reluctantly. "The rebellion was responsible for our coming into your service. We are refugees, you se." He did not add from where.
Not that Luke appeared to care. "Refugees!" Then I did see a space battle!" He rambled on rapidly, excited. "Tell me where you’ve been—in how many encounters. How is the rebellion going? Does the Empire take it seriously? Have you seen many ships destroyed?" "A bit slower, please, sir," Threepio pleaded. "You misinterpret our status.
We were innocent bystanders. Our involvement with the rebellion was of the most marginal nature.
"As to battles, we were in several, I think. It is difficult to tell when one is not directly in contact with the actual battle machinery." He shrugged neatly. "Beyond that, there is not much to say. Remember, sir, I am little more than a cosmeticized interpreter and not very good at telling stories or relating histories, and even less proficient at embellishing them. I am a very literal machine." Luke turned away, disappointed, and returned to his cleaning of Artoo Detoo.
Additional scraping turned up something puzzling enough to demand his full attention.
A small metal fragment was tightly lodged between two bar conduits that would normally form a linkage. Setting down the delicate pick, Luke switched to a larger instrument.
"Well, my little friend," he murmured, "you’ve got something jammed in here real good." As he pushed and pried Luke directed half his attention to Threepio.
"In a way," Threepio confessed reluctantly. "The rebellion was responsible for our coming into your service. We are refugees, you se." He did not add from where.
Not that Luke appeared to care. "Refugees!" Then I did see a space battle!" He rambled on rapidly, excited. "Tell me where you’ve been—in how many encounters. How is the rebellion going? Does the Empire take it seriously? Have you seen many ships destroyed?" "A bit slower, please, sir," Threepio pleaded. "You misinterpret our status.
We were innocent bystanders. Our involvement with the rebellion was of the most marginal nature.
"As to battles, we were in several, I think. It is difficult to tell when one is not directly in contact with the actual battle machinery." He shrugged neatly. "Beyond that, there is not much to say. Remember, sir, I am little more than a cosmeticized interpreter and not very good at telling stories or relating histories, and even less proficient at embellishing them. I am a very literal machine." Luke turned away, disappointed, and returned to his cleaning of Artoo Detoo.
Additional scraping turned up something puzzling enough to demand his full attention.
A small metal fragment was tightly lodged between two bar conduits that would normally form a linkage. Setting down the delicate pick, Luke switched to a larger instrument.
"Well, my little friend," he murmured, "you’ve got something jammed in here real good." As he pushed and pried Luke directed half his attention to Threepio.