BEN: Mos Eisley Spaceport. You will never find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy. We must be cautious.
HUMAN: He doesn't like you. LUKE: I'm sorry. HUMAN: I don't like you either The big creature is getting agitated and yells out some unintelligible gibberish at the now rather nervous, young adventurer. HUMAN: (continued) Don't insult us. You just watch yourself. We're wanted men. I have the death sentence in twelve systems. LUKE: I'll be careful than. HUMAN: You'll be dead.
BEN: This little one isn't worth the effort. Come let me buy you something...
A powerful blow from the unpleasant creature sends the young would-be Jedi sailing across the room, crashing through tables and breaking a large jug filled with a foul-looking liquid. With a blood curdling shriek, the monster draws a wicked chrome laser pistol from his belt and levels it at old Ben. The bartender panics. BARTENDER: No blasters! No blaster! With astounding agility old Ben's laser sword sparks to life and in a flash an arm lies on the floor. The rodent is cut in two and the giant multiple-eyed creature lies doubled, cut from chin to groin. Ben carefully and precisely turns off his laser sword and replaces it on his utility belt. Luke, shaking and totally amazed at the old man's abilities, attempts to stand. The entire fight has lasted only a matter of seconds. The cantina goes back to normal, although Ben is given a respectable amount of room at the bar. Luke, rubbing his bruised head, approaches the old man with new awe. Ben points the the Wookiee.
BEN: This is Chewbacca. He's first-mate on a ship that might suit our needs.
HAN: Han Solo. I'm captain of the Millennium Falcon. Chewie here tells me you're looking for passage to the Alderaan system. BEN: Yes, indeed. If it's a fast ship. HAN: Fast ship? You've never heard of the Millennium Falcon? BEN: Should I have? HAN: It's the ship that made the Kessel run in less than twelve parsecs! Ben reacts to Solo's stupid attempt to impress them with obvious misinformation. HAN: (continued) I've outrun Imperial starships, not the local bulk-cruisers, mind you. I'm talking about the big Corellian ships now. She's fast enough for you, old man. What's the cargo? BEN: Only passengers. Myself, the boy, two droids, and no questions asked. HAN: What is it? Some kind of local trouble? BEN: Let's just say we'd like to avoid any Imperial entanglements.
HAN: Well, that's the trick, isn't it? And it's going to cost you something extra. Ten thousand in advance. LUKE: Ten thousand? We could almost buy our own ship for that! HAN: But who's going to fly it, kid! You? LUKE: You bet I could. I'm not such a bad pilot myself! We don't have to sit here and listen... BEN: We haven't that much with us. But we could pay you two thousand now, plus fifteen when we reach Alderaan. HAN: Seventeen, huh! Han ponders this for a few moments. HAN: Okay. You guys got yourself a ship. We'll leave as soon as you're ready. Docking bay Ninety-four. BEN: Ninety-four. HAN: Looks like somebody's beginning to take an interest in your handiwork.
GREEDO: Going somewhere, Solo? HAN: Yes, Greedo. As a matter of fact, I was just going to see your boss. Tell Jabba that I've got his money. Han sits down and the alien sits across from him holding the gun on him. GREEDO: It's too late. You should have paid him when you had the chance. Jabba's put a price on your head, so large that every bounty hunter in the galaxy will be looking for you. I'm lucky I found you first. HAN: Yeah, but this time I got the money. GREEDO: If you give it to me, I might forget I found you. HAN: I don't have it with me. Tell Jabba... GREEDO: Jabba's through with you. He has no time for smugglers who drop their shipments at the first sign of an Imperial cruiser. HAN: Even I get boarded sometimes. Do you think I had a choice? Han Solo slowly reaches for his gun under the table. GREEDO: You can tell that to Jabba. He may only take your ship. HAN: Over my dead body.
GREEDO: That's the idea. I've been looking forward to killing you for a long time. HAN: Yes, I'll bet you have.
Suddenly the slimy alien disappears in a blinding flash of light. Han pulls his smoking gun from beneath the table as the other patron look on in bemused amazement. Han gets up and starts out of the cantina, flipping the bartender some coins as he leaves. HAN: Sorry about the mess.
Script from: Star Wars Script