The Stars Came Back

by Rolf Nelson

  Lag: (Mock serious) Are you implying one of our noncoms might have a less than pristine past?

  Stenson: Guess it depends on how much of the official story you believe.

  They both chuckle a bit.

  Lag: It’s good to get out of the office anyway. It’s always useful to eyeball things in person when something unusual comes up. There it is. Big enough?

  Stenson: Depends. Right now, we’re light on everything, so it should work. That ship; looks like an old Meridian transport, all right.

  Lag: Emphasis on old.

  Stenson: So much the better. Having an old hulk for training right across the street would be great. No worries about grounding it when some wanna-be private does something craptacular.

  CUT TO

  View of the side of the ship as Lag and Stenson pull off the road near the side door. They hop out, do a quick touch check to make sure sidearms and clothes are in place, then walk up the stairs and in the hatchway.

  CUT TO

  View from inside the cargo bay looking down the side entrance passageway, as they walk through the hatches headed inside. Lag stops, hold his hand to his ear, then glances at his forearm-mounted computer screen. He looks at Stenson with a quizzical look. Stenson looks back, and holds his ear and nods.

  Lag: Com Check. One, two.

  Stenson shakes his head.

  Stenson: Com check.

  Lag shakes his head… then nods.

  Stenson: Com check. One, two.

  Lag nods again.

  Lag: Com check?

  Stenson nods.

  Lag: Weird.

  Stenson: Jammer, or interference?

  Lag: Check them when we get back.

  Stenson nods.

  Camera view pulls back as they walk silently into the cargo bay. They walk in, look around a moment, standing motionless near the middle side of the cargo bay by a pile of boxes. Stenson sniffs the air carefully, then deeply. He smiles and nods appreciatively. They happen to look up and across. Their gaze is drawn off camera to one end of the row of middeck windows. Camera zooms in on their expressions as they track someone walking down the passageway on the opposite side from one window to the next, with appreciative smiles growing on their faces.

  CUT TO

  Camera angle reverses to view middeck windows.

  Allonia walks by, visible from the waist up, naked, arms raised putting her hair up in a towel, healthy full-figure feminine curves seen to great advantage. She freezes, turns briefly in reflex of facing something noticed, sees them clearly, shrieks, brings her arm up to cover herself as she drops out of sight below the window sill.

  CUT TO

  Close view of Lag and Stenson, eyes upward, grinning.

  Allonia: (OC, embarrassed/angry) Helton! You HAVE to get my shower fixed TODAY!

  Stenson: …Think I’m gonna like this ship.

  Lag: You were right. Outstanding training value.

  The camera view pulls back and goes wider angle, revealing Helton standing next to them, with a similar admiring expression on his face.

  Helton: Shower might take a while, though.

  DISSOLVE TO

  INT - DAY - Officers’ Mess

  Helton, Lag, and Stenson sit around the table, empty plates and glasses in front of them. They are done eating and are feeling comfortable with one another.

  Helton: Let me get this straight. You’ll help me fix some of these systems as training for your maintenance section; I buy the parts, you get them working. And once we renovate the quarters you’ll also pay me to use the ship as a barracks and training facility for a different batch of recruits?

  Lag: Correct. It keeps us out of town, gets a bunch of our people in one place, and it’s not often we have a real ship to screen raw recruits on. You have over a hundred berths, and if you can talk Allonia into making company-sized portions of food like this, we’ll have no problem attracting qualified people. It’s been a while since I’ve been on a ship where the air smelled a healthy green.

  Helton: …Why? I mean, why me? It’s not millicredits you are talking about throwing my way.

  Lag: (Smiles, as if to an inside joke) Got a soft spot for people who have been screwed by security forces.

  Helton raises an eyebrow. The colonel doesn’t look like the sentimental type.

  Lag: (Sincerely) You struck me as smart and principled when we met on the liner. That’s hard to find around here. Knowing that you and Harbin are acquainted is a bonus I find even less often. And on the off chance that Stenson can work some magic, having a fully functional transport that isn’t on anyone’s radar could be… useful.

  Stenson: (Chuckling) It’s going to take more magic than even I have to get this thing FULLY functional. Flyable, maybe. Maybe. Eventually. But, in the meantime, I really could not imagine a better training setup. Always liked classic ships, and this one is a gem.

  Helton: (With exaggerated concerned thoughtfulness) Hmmm… Work with you guys and get my ship fixed at parts cost, while pocketing rent, or get bled white by the local official shakedown crew. Hmmmm…. Let me see here… You drive a hard bargain, but… you talked me into it.

  DISSOLVE TO

  EXT - DAY - Cargo loading ramp

  Helton, Lag, and Stenson walk down the cargo ramp together. Suddenly Lag freezes mid step, and turns his head to the side. Something has caught his eye. The others stop, turn, look at him, and follow his gaze toward the side of the ship. Lag cocks his head. He walks over to the side where the ramp drops out of the ship’s end. He holds up his arms as if to measure the thickness of the hull. It looks like it’s a meter or more thick.

  Lag: (Flatly) That’s not right.

  Stenson: (Incredulous) Naw… Couldn’t be.

  Lag and Stenson hop over the side of the ramp to examine the ramp from the side. He looks it over briefly, this way, that way, looks across at the other side. Something is wrong. Lag waves over CPL Kaminski, who is standing nearby next to a second light truck with Kaushik, now wearing simple camo fatigues, basic breastplate type body armor, and carrying a suppressed compact rifle, to come over.

  Lag: Rifle.

  CPL Kaminski: Sir?… OK, Sir. Full mag, empty chamber.

  From a pocket, Lag pulls out and dons protective eyewear, cycles a round into the chamber, flicks the selector switch to “F”, and aims at the ship at about waist level, and pulls the trigger. A muffled BANG! There is a splatter of bullet on the angled side of the ship, and into the dust around the impact point and on the ground around and underneath.

  Helton: WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!

  Ignoring Helton, in a zone of intense thought, Lag reaches forward, and brushes his hand over the impact point. He flicks the selector to “A”, takes a knee, aims at the same area, and pulls the trigger back. Twenty-four more rounds rip out of the mag into the side, first in one spot, then sweeping back and forth a small bit as brass showers the ground. Helton jumps back, covers his ears, and looks away. Dust and bullet splatter fill the hollow under the angle of the ship’s side. The dust billows out, then blows aside in the breeze. Lag reaches in and dusts his fingertips over the impact points, which are NOT holes, just bumps of bullet residue. There doesn’t appear to be so much as a new scratch on the hull.

  Helton: WHAT’N’FRAK’ER’YOU’DOON?!

  Lag: (In quiet wonderment, clearly thinking hard) … Apparently… Nothing… Nothing at all.

  Stenson: Hoooollllyyyy Hindu’s pot roast.

  Lag: Yup. It is.

  Lag, still eyeing the hull where he shot, absently flicks the safety back on and hands the rifle back to Kaminski, who touch-checks the empty chamber, drops the empty magazine and puts it in a pocket, and then inserts a new one, without taking his eyes off Lag and his actions.

  Stenson: Well son of a bitch.

  Helton: WHAT… WHA… ?

  Lag: Looks like your ship isn’t a Meridian.

  Helton: What? But, you just told me-

  Stenson: Nope. An ALAT. Armored Landing Assault Transport. />
  Helton: Wha…?

  Stenson: A very old, heavily modified one to be sure. But it’s definitely armored.

  Helton: Soooo…?

  Lag: That’s interesting. Very interesting.

  FADE TO BLACK

  Cleaning

  Sounds of clanging, heavy working on machines, chains rattling.

  FADE IN

  INT - DAY - Cargo bay

  View from inside the cargo deck, looking out the open main aft door. A half dozen young men, some soldiers in camo, some in overalls, are working at clearing the cargo bay. There are two chain hoists going from the ceiling down to the ramp, which is now partially raised, and each chain hoist has three soldiers hanging/climbing from the chains. They are just barely able to lift the ramp that slowly inches up. Chief Stenson is in charge, signaling to one of the teams to climb faster. Outside a single guard in light body armor with a rifle can be seen standing. Quinn sits on top of a pile of crates to one side, wide eyed, taking it all in. Camera view pulls back and Lag is standing next to Harbin, watching progress.

  Lag: What do you think?

  Harbin: (Looking critically on) I can make it work.

  Lag: (Slightly sarcastic) When was the last time you had a real ship to train recruits on?

  Harbin grunts to the effect it’s an irrelevant question.

  Lag: (Casually) Have a good leave?

  Harbin nods the affirmative.

  Lag: Anything you need to tell me about?

  Harbin: … No.

  Lag: Oh, by the way. Did I tell you who the owner is?

  Harbin grunts to acknowledge the question.

  Lag: Guy by the name of Helton. Helton Strom.

  Harbin: …Good man.

  Lag: Are you sure there isn’t anything you want to tell me about your leave?

  Harbin: A bit more eventful than planned. We worked it out. Medical knows the relevant details. I’m fit for duty.

  Lag: Hmmm… Good man you say?

  Harbin: I trust his character. Flying… not so much.

  Lag: My thoughts too. How do you happen know about his flying?

  Harbin: …I’d rather not go into details, sir.

  DISSOLVE TO

  Series of scenes of people cleaning and working on the ship

  ● CPL Kaminski dragging a stack of thin, dirty, holey mattresses from a berth room.

  ● A recruit/ soldier scrubbing down the serving line in the galley.

  ● Quinn swinging from a makeshift swing in the cargo bay, using chain hoists as the supporting lines, while soldiers move things around while clearing the cargo bay.

  ● Helton oiling a hinge on a hatchway door.

  ● Chief Stenson laying on his back in a cramped space, wrench in one hand, odd-looking ship part in the other, and a puzzled look on his face. He’s looking back and forth between the part and a system diagram on a small wall-mounted screen next to him, trying to figure things out.

  ● Helton popping a standard 30x50cm display screen with an obvious crack on it out of a socket in the main dash of the bridge, and popping another one into place, and moving a locking lever to secure it.

  ● Allonia setting a pair of steaming hot, fresh-from-the-oven loaves of bread out onto the now-spotless serving line in the galley. She looks up, sees two recruits looking in, one eyeing the bread, and recruit Darch eyeing her intently. She glares at them; one politely ducks out, Darch licks his lips, then turns and walks away slowly.

  ● Helton in the bridge looking at the various stations. They all look like they are positioned to stand at them. There are five spots, two in front, one angled at each side, one center back. Each has a variety of ordinary screens and hard-function switches, dials, levers, etc. Each position also has a swing-out chair with flip-up headrest and safety harness. He swings a chair out, swings it back. He stands in front of one of the positions, runs his hands over the controls, checks the reach of things. Suddenly he starts gliding away from it. He looks down, and he sees part of the floor moving backwards. It’s a built-in treadmill so crew standing watch can walk or jog in place, in order to keep in shape and stay alert while on duty. The fold-out chairs are only for when going into action. There are six massively thick windows. Assessing each station and the hardwired controls they have, they are (port to starboard) communications & sensors, flight control, navigation, weapons, and (in the back middle) command.

  ● Stenson plugging diagnostic multimeter probe into a socket. He pushes a few buttons on the tool’s screen. There is a spark at the plug, then another from the tool, and a small puff of smoke rises from it.

  ● Stenson looks surprised, and eyes both ship and tool suspiciously. Quinn is standing to the side, watching, fascinated.

  ● A ragged line of recruits not in uniform standing in the now clean and tidy cargo bay, with Harbin in camo fatigues inspecting them. He gets to the end, does an about face, looks down the line, and shakes his head in disappointment with what he sees.

  ● Stenson and a dark-skinned mechanic work in engineering. The mechanic pulls an obviously old and damaged soup can-sized part from a mounting spot in an access hatch, and pops a much cleaner similar part into place, then gives Stenson a thumbs up. Stenson flips a switch, and there is a puff of smoke, an arc of electricity, and a small explosion from the new part, as the two of them dive for cover.

  ● Quinn is sitting in a very small industrial-looking cubbyhole seemingly no more than a square meter, looking at a screen, on which there are words and pictures and a pretty schoolmarm teacher figure in what looks like a reading program, with letters and words in English, Hebrew, Greek, Cyrillic, Kanji, and what looks like runes. He is smiling happily. There are a dozen empty but covered “sockets” that something could be inserted into, about 2x5cm, next to the screen. As the camera pulls back and zooms out, we see he is sitting far back at the end of a small, dark, access tunnel, well away from the other people. Barely visible on the wall is painted a number “5”.

  ● A soldier uses a pressure washer to clean graffiti and crud off the side of the ship. The difference between the cleaned and uncleaned is stark; smooth grayish metal vs. a century of accumulated layers of the colorful wisdom of youth and drab dust.

  ● Stenson, now wearing a helmet and body armor, looks cautiously across the engine room, then carefully flips the switch. Nothing happens for a few moments, and he starts to smile and relax. After a moment a part across the room blows up and sends debris flying by.

  ● Zoomed in view down a midlevel passageway with all the hatch doors open. Harbin stands next to a line of soldiers with CPL Kaminski in the front, wearing light armor and carrying a rifle at port arms. Harbin slaps him on the shoulder, and Kaminski runs down the passageway, deftly jumping the threshold of each hatch while ducking and transitioning his gun from port arms (where it would run into the hatch sides) to running at “present arms” and back, so the vertical rifle doesn’t hit the hatches. As he gets very near the camera, he turns off to the side. Harbin slaps the next soldier, a recruit in uniform and helmet, but no armor, and with an obviously fake training rifle. He runs forward following Kaminski’s example, makes the first hatch with the jump-duck-present-arms, but doesn’t make the second, and with dummy rifle still across his chest he tries to jump through the hatch, and clotheslines himself across the chest with the rifle, falling heavily backward onto the deck. Harbin just looks at him, closes his eyes and shakes his head, then watches the recruit stand up unsteadily and try again, much more carefully and slower.

  ● Allonia in the hydroponics room looking at large racks of newly growing greens. She’s adjusting the lighting on a rack. The place looks cheery, bright, warm, and wholesome, as does she. Her clothes and style are simple, practical, and comfortable. Quinn is playing in the dirt off to one side, and it looks like he is both filling small pots and building a small dirt castle in a larger tray.

  ● Helton trying to move one of the heavy airlock door hatches that is three-fourths open, and it isn’t budging. He shoves a
t it for a moment, and it doesn’t move. He puts a squirt of oil/de-ruster from a can on its hinges, and as he sets the can aside, Allonia comes past, and with a seemingly simple leaning-into-it shove swings the hatch the rest of the way open, then back again. She nods in satisfaction and moves on. Helton looks at her in surprise, then looks at the oil can, and back at her, then the hatch, curiosity on his face.

  ● Helton is in the bridge. He pulls out the chair at the command position from under the console, gently takes a seat, sits back, flips a switch off to one side, watches some screens light up, and gets a kid-in-a-candy-store grin.

  FADE TO BLACK

  FADE IN

  INT - DAY - Engineering

  The Engineering Command Center is a long, cramped-feeling, machinery- and control-panel filled room on the top deck over the cargo bay. Stenson is looking at several screens full of readouts. There are toolboxes and a generally crowded-but-organized appearance to the room. Helton walks in.

  Helton: So, how’s progress?

  Stenson: Ah, just the person I wanted to see. You know what? I think, thanks to a few local geniuses and things not being quite as bad they first looked, we might just get this thing flying again.

  Helton: Really? You’re sure?

  Stenson: I’m not sure about anything here, but-

  Helton: How long?

  Stenson: Good question.

  Helton: …So, do you have a good answer?

  Stenson: Well, there are some things about it I still don’t get, like what that thing is (points to a nearly featureless black metal protrusion from the ceiling), other than an analog 200 amp engine part that seems to be important but isn’t on any of the schematics and doesn’t fit with anything I know about on a theoretical basis, but what I have determined is that a lot of these systems are in usable, or least fixable, condition. A lot of the peripheral stuff just needed oil, new gaskets, cleaning, replacement chemicals, and so forth. Even the drive cores seem to still be mostly balanced and in surprisingly good shape for their age. Lots of little widgets we can just print out and replace worn parts with. With a couple of parts that are very hard to get around here, I believe I can get her in the air again. Can’t promise anything on performance, though.