by Rolf Nelson
Helton: But it’s called a war zone for a reason.
Bipasha: This thing is armored, right? Small arms can’t hurt it.
Cooper: What about all the piles of beans and things on the aft ramp?
Bipasha: Leave them. We could load everyone with just the bow ramp, maybe even just a side hatch.
Allonia: Supplies for passengers?
Bipasha: Shouldn’t need any; it’s only a short extra-atmo hop to the designated Refugee Center, so we don’t have to feed them or anything. Walk ‘em on, bounce over, walk ‘em off, collect the fee.
Helton: (Warily) …I thought you were going to prove me wrong?
Bipasha: (Half joking) Oh, I will. I just want to watch you suffer a little longer.
Bipasha notices Quiritis, looks questioningly at Helton.
Allonia: An old friend, a pilot. Quiritis, Bipasha, our business manager.
They size each other up for a moment. Quiritis stands and sticks out her hand.
Quiritis: Happy to meet any friend of Alli’s.
Bipasha shakes the proffered hand.
Bipasha: Likewise. (Then to Helton) We should move on this fast.
Helton: (Into wall intercom mic) All section leaders to the command center.
Kwon: (OC, over intercom) Who’s a section leader, and what’s the command center?
Helton: Kwon, Stenson, any non-recruit uniforms on board, head for the mess room.
Stenson: (OC, intercom) Why didn’t you say so the first time?
Helton: (Into mic) Just go, people, if you want to know the plan.
DISSOLVE TO
INT - DAY - Large ostentatious office
Seymore sits behind a desk with a big shit-eating grin on his face, talking into a com screen that the camera can’t see.
Yes, Councilor. They took the contract, just like you thought they would. They’ll be leaving in a couple of hours. I’m sure such a tragic event will make the news.
FADE TO BLACK
Walk-ons
FADE IN
INT - DAY - Inside the cargo bay, looking out
As the ramp lowers it reveals a small landing field and open space toward the control tower and port buildings. The sun is high and bright. Two armed and armored soldiers are standing silhouetted against the bright background. Also revealed is a small crowd of a few dozen refugees standing near the landing pad, average folks with packs, bags, other hand carried items.
Kaminski: Doesn’t look so bad.
Kaushik: It’ll get worse. Some of ‘em had to see us coming in. These are just the desperate ones with no other option but to wait here and pray.
Kaminski: Looked like a ghost town from higher up.
Kaushik: Hope you’re right. Let’s just screen ‘em fast, get ‘em on, get out’a here.
Kaminski: Wish Harbin and the recruits were here, we could do it faster.
Kaushik: Good day for cleaning and maintenance. Be glad we’re not with them.
As the ramp lowers, the soldiers advance part way down it as the refugees stand up and move slowly forward as a mass.
Kaminski: (Yelling) We got room, keep it orderly! Everyone form a line!
The refugees slow their mass movement and shuffle into a queue, then start to shove and argue.
A device drops down on a spiral cord next to Kaminski. It looks like a combination bullhorn, camera, scanner, and display screen. He grabs it and addresses the surging crowd with it. His greatly amplified voice blasts from speakers above.
Kaminski: LISTEN UP! NO ONE GETS ON WITHOUT AN ID CHECK. LINE UP QUIETLY OR WE LEAVE!
The crowd settles down and starts queuing up more orderly. A few more refugees run onto the field, individuals and a couple of families with kids.
Kaushik: (Pointing to guy at front of the queue) You! Step up and identify yourself! Everyone else, keep back! One person or family at a time!
Refugee1: Tom Corwin.
Kaminski scans his face and palm then looks at the readout screen on the scanner.
INSET - The readout shows images of an eye and a hand with points highlighted for it. Text says “POS ID: retina, facial, prints 100%; THOMAS REGINALD CORWIN, PLUMBER, NO CRIMINAL HIST”
Kaminski: (Pointing into the cargo bay) Go sit there, await further instructions!
Thomas Corwin sighs with relief and walks tiredly aboard with only a small duffel bag.
Kaushik: (Keeping eye on crowd, waving to a family group next in line) You three, step up! The rest, keep back!
Camera pulls back outside a ways, showing the ship loading, with the family group going on. More refugees continue to trickle onto the field. In the background, the black spot trailing smoking of a damaged flier is growing rapidly, heading for the spaceport landing field.
CEO
CUT TO
INT - DAY - Bridge
Helton at command, Cooper, Quiritis, Bipasha sit at the controls.
Cooper: Got incoming. Small ship, looks like a private craft.
Helton: ETA?
Bipasha: Um, maybe a minute or two. Soon.
Helton: Cooper, next chance you get, more training on the sensors.
Cooper: Sure, love to.
Bipasha: We all need to get better, Mr. Captain sir.
Helton: Tajemnica, how long till they get here?
Ship AI: (OC) They will arrive on impact and deceleration to a relative velocity of zero.
Helton: Great. Really useful.
Quiritis: Here, like this.
Bipasha watches as Quiri taps a few control screen options. An answer flashes up.
Bipasha: About 45 seconds!
Helton: (Into com) Allonia, everyone ready to sort out the refugees?
Kwon: (OC, on speaker) Got it covered. Hatches closed and locked. Everyone in place.
Helton: How many out there now?
Cooper: Couple dozen at the ramp, a few more heading this way.
The screens in front of Bipasha and Quiritis, showing diagrams of the local area, explode with numerous colored dots.
Bipasha: Whoa! All kinds of stuff showing up. Movement everywhere.
Cooper: Computer, show all people on main screen.
An image pops up on several small smaller screens in front of each person showing a 5 km map of the area with thousands of dots, clusters and singles, so many it looks like static.
Cooper: I said Main Screen!
All images except the one in front of Quiritis go away.
Cooper: Crap. Useless Computer. We ALL need to see what’s going on.
The image appears in front of everyone but Cooper.
Helton: That’s a lot. But… that’s everything in 5k. That can’t be right. Limit range to one kilometer.
The screen adjusts, still showing hundreds of dots converging on them. Cooper leans over to look at Bipasha’s screen, but it disappears before he can get more than a brief glance.
Helton: If that’s not a glitch, we don’t have room, let alone air when we button up. That many would need several trips.
Cooper: Don’t care about that, as long as they pay us for every trip. Come’on ‘puter, show it on my screen! Damn thing’s as useless as the boss crashing a crew party.
A new image appears on the main screen. It shows the cockpit of a small private flier with three people: a pilot wearing a helmet and flight suit, with Penger Trask and his wife behind him. They look scared. The signal is weak and staticy. For a moment it comes in sharp and clear.
Trask Pilot: This is Trask Flier 61, calling anyone at the field. We are damaged and losing altitude. Get emergency vehicles ready. We were hit by ground fire and will be coming in hard. Please respond.
Bipasha: This is Tajemnica, we see you. The tower is abandoned. Land near us if, we’ll try to help.
Trask Pilot: Thank God there’s someone there!
Trask: (Over pilot’s shoulder) Abandoned!?
Helton: Just land. Talk when you’re down.
The pilot nods, the screen clears.
They look out the window
and see the flier approaching, trailing smoke.
CUT TO
EXT - DAY - Boarding ramp
A surge of people come around the corner of a port building, heading toward the ship. In the background the Trask Flier is fast closing, people pointing and watching. One yells that it’s headed right for them, others scream, and some start to run away. It comes in fast at too steep an angle, trailing flame. It hits hard, breaking off landing struts and sending debris flying. The flier slides to a stop barely 10 meters from the closed side boarding hatch. People gawk, but keep well back from the flames. Tajemnica’s side door drops rapidly. Lag, wearing light armor and a carbine slung across his chest, sprints to the side of the flier. He pops the hatch and helps the shaken and bleeding CEO out, then Lucretia Trask whom he hands off to Penger as soon as she’s out. He glances over at the growing crowd, then nods toward Taj’s hatch.
Lag: GET ABOARD!
Trask: The Pilot! And the cases in back! Get the attaché cases!
Lag charges back into the cabin of the small flier.
CUT TO
INT - DAY - Cockpit of flier
The pilot is slumped in his seat, part of the side crumpled into him, impaling his chest. Lag checks his neck pulse briefly then heads for the back.
CUT TO
EXT - DAY - Ground outside the crashed flier
Lag emerges with two large attaché cases. Penger Trask and Lucretia are limping up the stairs while watching the flier. Lag runs to the hatch, throws the boxes aboard ahead of them, shakes his head to them about the pilot, and turns back. Lucretia starts crying as Trask helps her up the stairs into the ship. Lag emerges with one more attaché case and runs for the hatch just as the flier explodes in flames. Lag glances down the side of the ship, sees some people headed for his side door, runs up the stairs and tosses the box in. He brings his rifle to a low ready, clearly willing to use it to prevent boarding, and hits the side button to close-up the side entry. The people headed for the side hatch stop, yelling and angry as it closes in front of them.
CUT TO
INT - DAY - Cargo bay, view of side door hatchway
Trask emerges, supporting his crying and bloody wife on one side, carrying a box in the other hand. Lag is right behind them, carrying two boxes. A cluster of refugees huddle by the opposite door, being corralled by Allonia (looking no-nonsense in camo and light armor, hair in a braid, carrying a carbine slung across her chest) and John (Kwon’s son, similarly dressed). Quinn peeks out stairwell.
Lucretia: That poor pilot!
Lag: Worry about yourself right now. Get up to sick bay. QUINN! Show these two to sick bay! On the double, soldier!
Trask: What are you doing here? I thought-
Lag: What’s in the boxes?
Trask: Very important paperwork. But what-?
Lag: We can talk later. How important?
Trask: Very.
Lag looks at Trask acutely, evaluating the expression on Trask’s face. Lag opens a hatch next to the airlock entry; it’s a small storeroom, mostly full. He tosses the boxes in and shuts the hatch with a thud.
Lag: Tajemnica, lock and secure, sensitive materials. (To Trask) You can get ‘em later. Follow Quinn to sick bay. Quinn, show ‘em up, then back to your post in case we need you again.
Trask: Why are you-?
Lag: Just go, we’re kinda busy.
Quinn: Come ON, sir.
They head off for the stairs. Lag strides across to the group of refugees. He looks them over. There are about twenty of them, mostly family groups with kids.
Lag: Any adults here without small children?
Two raise their hands, a man and a woman.
Lag: You stay here! We’ll find a place for you later. The rest of you, follow me.
Lag leads the group towards the stairs.
Lag: Can anyone tell me what’s been happening?
Several of the refugees talk at once.
Lag: One at a time, please! (Pointing) You first. Walk and talk! Keep moving! Go ahead now-
DISSOLVE TO
EXT - DAY - Cargo bay ramp
The refugee crowd has swelled, it’s clear there will not be room for everyone. They get louder, more mob-like.
Kaminski scans the young, sketchy-looking man standing nervously in front of him.
Homney: (Anxiously) John Smith, I work in security.
INSET - Scanner blinks red “ID FAIL: Homney, Jonah- unemployed convict, no known residence.
Kaminski looks at Jonah sharply. Kaushik comes to low ready with his rifle.
Kaminski: Clear out!
Homney: You can’t leave me here! They’re coming! If you leave me here I’ll be conscripted! You can’t do this!
Kaushik: (Raising rifle to point it at Jonah’s chest) Clear out! NOW!
Homney backs up, still protesting and waving his arms around. Crowd murmurs louder.
Kaminski: (Under breath to SGT Kaushik) Shit! Not good.
From behind the soldiers the jointed mechanical arm snakes from a side hatch with the machine gun it picked up earlier mounted. Homney runs for cover and plunges into the crowd. The gun aims down at the ground near the crowd, in front of the boarding ramp. It rips out a dozen rounds in an arc on the ground around the ramp. From above a harsh, metallic voice, sounding vaguely like Helton roars out.
Ship AI: (OC on loudspeaker) NOBODY AND NOTHING CROSSES THAT LINE!
Most people cringe back from the shooting and the command.
Lag: (OC, over personal com) Status?
Kaushik: (thumbing mic) Warning shots to keep ‘em back.
Lag: (OC) OK. Keep loading as long as it’s safe. Tell Cooper if it’s time to bounce. Stay frosty.
Kaushik nods automatically, gets both hands back on his rifle. A good-looking young woman steps from the crowd with a bundle in her arms that looks like a swaddled baby clutched to her chest.
Refugee7: (Indignantly) You can’t do that! We have a right to leave!
She steps defiantly across the line of bullet marks on the ground.
The gun on the mechanical arm swings crisply and precisely around to her, firing a burst of six shots in a line across her body from her hip to shoulder, including two into the bundle held to her chest. Blood splashes from the four hitting only her, and she collapses like a marionette with the strings cut, hitting the ground on her back.
Ship AI: (OC, more harshly) NO ONE AND NOTHING!
There is a quick, sharp gasp and stifled screams, then everyone stands silently for a second, shocked, absorbing what they just saw. Folks near the line back away, and people become even more nervous, backing away from the body, licking lips, trying to not look anyone in the eyes, holding hands up to show they are empty. The machine gun on the mechanical arm looks almost alive, waving jerkily back and forth, keeping an eye on everyone, daring them to make a wrong move. Kaminski has his rifle at low ready, too.
Kaushik: Keep calm, and we’ll process and take who we can for this trip! Anyone gets outta line, ain’t goin’! (Nods toward body) Clear?
The soldiers look around at the crowd, rifles shouldered and ready. Kaushik motions with his rifle to the front of the line.
Kaushik: You two next! Come on, ain’t got all day!
The couple move timidly forward, inching past the bullet line holding their breaths, glancing at the body. As they pass it, and the gun on the mechanical arm seemingly ignores them, they give a slight sigh of relief. Kaminski lowers his rifle, takes up the scanner.
They walk up the ramp to be scanned. They start to give name and occupation.
CUT TO
Wide angle view at ground level, angling up toward the interior of the ship. In the foreground lies the dead woman at an awkward angle, blood dribbling from her mouth. Barely exposed under the slightly pulled back swaddling is not a baby wrapped up, but a gun barrel, a com antenna, and some electronics destroyed by a bullet. The bundle is obscured to anyone standing nearby or from on board the ship.
FADE TO BLACK
; Setup
FADE IN
INT - DAY - Middeck passageway next to a closed cargo bay window
Lag, Helton, Bipasha, and Cooper look at the growing crowd of refugees, now up to several hundred, on the cargo deck.
Lag: I think we are being set up.
Bipasha: But I checked the contract source, it was good, the payment bond posted!
Cooper: Well, it damn sure ain’t what I was expecting.
Helton: (To Lag) Why?
Lag: Everyone said they were being driven toward here; other routes closed, and posters and broadcasts saying this was the place to go. A regular campaign for the last five days. Led to believe there were a lot of ships here to fly them to safety, but always anonymous and unsourced.
Bipasha: That’s not what the news was saying.
Helton: But why?
Cooper: Doesn’t make a difference.
Helton: Maybe it does.
Lag: Knowing why would shed light on what to do. How many?
Cooper: More than we can take, for sure.
Bipasha: How many can we take? If we put some on A Deck, we could-
Helton: No. Can’t let them get into crew areas and engineering. We don’t have anywhere close to enough security for that. Maybe a few more families with children on B-deck.
Lag: Right. With that many, any sort of panic would be impossible to control if they are on all decks. We keep them on the cargo deck, secure the side doors; not comfy for them, but safe for us. If we stack’em standing like spoons there… (brows furrow as he does a quick mental calculation) maybe 3000?
Bipasha: Then we take 3000.
Helton: Can’t.
Bipasha: He just said-
Cooper: We don’t have the oh-two capacity right now for that many people breathing for more than maybe thirty minutes.