Conflicts of the last progenitors

The loudest sound within the cavern is the sustained chorus of WAILING sculptors.

An automuscle flops down; Sven climbs out of it, wrapped in a padded orange bodysuit adorned with two blue stars. Huffing steam, the young Swede walks toward a cubical lab and ducks inside.

Thirty BULLETS patrol the perimeters of the human settlement, amongst them Lo-Cheun. From the sunken city of the sculptors come unceasing SKIRLS of agony.

LO-CHEUN

(irked)

Pook gai.

Lo-Cheun stares out into the darkness.

126.

MALE BULLET (O.S.)

Neighbors! Northern edge.

Lo-Cheun looks north: fifty-one SCULPTORS ascend onto the plateau. The Senior TAPS his earlplug.

LO-CHEUN

J-guns! At my command, warning

shots!

INT. PHYSICAL INVIGORATION CHAMBER - SAME

Upon the ship, forty-three PEOPLE utilize treadmills, isometric pull straps, swimming areas and aerobic bikes.

Amongst them is Mlissa.

The athletic woman backstrokes down the length of a wading pool, her long limbs fluidly pushing her across the surface of the coruscating water.

Her eyes survey the ceiling of the enclosure; through the nine ellipsoidal skylights, she sees Option-1’s five moons and the myriad stars of the cosmos.

Without warning, the view is covered over with an opaque shadow.

People SCREAM.

INT. GRAYNOSE’S COMPARTMENT - SAME

Graynose and Julius sit opposite each other at a small table, upon which sits a platter of roasted vegetables.

JULIUS

(Texas Accent)

I feel guilty eating these.

GRAYNOSE

Don’t. The ship’s docked now-- the farms have been activated. These-

(he points to the food)

-these are the first test run.

JULIUS

Well, they do look-

ELYSABETH’S VOICE

All multi-stars to the council

room. Priority Red-X.

127.

Graynose pales. He stands from the table, trembling.

INT. THE HUMAN PLATEAU - SAME

Thirty Bullets have congregated in front of the fifty-one

‘neighbors’; the retractable silver fur covering the sculptors’ torsos and long arms gleams like brindled silver in the cold night climate. The humanoids are still and silent; for the first time in many days, the cavern is quiet.

LO-CHEUN

How did they get this close?

The Frenchman with the stitched-together tongue turns to Lo-Cheun.

FRENCHMAN

Came up through a hidden tunnel.

LO-CHEUN

We’ll need to seal that.

Lo-Cheun points to the biggest sculptor, a twelve-foot tall giant with mottled white-and-gray skin and a swollen-shut left eye socket.

LO-CHEUN (CONT'D)

That’s the leader.

ONE-”EYE” reaches its seven-fingered left hand into a slit in its belly.

LO-CHEUN (CONT'D)

Hold.(he TAPS his earplug)

Get Jesca.

The humanoid withdraws a curved piece of stone from its belly and, with its right hand, extends it forward. The sculpture is crescent-shaped: smooth on the top and with thousands of intricate cylinders jutting from its bottom.

Rectangle, the tall African two-star, glances from the proffered object to Lo-Cheun.

RECTANGLE

Think it’s a gift? A peace

offering?

128.

LO-CHEUN

Don’t know. If they had the

capabilities, I’d think it was a

bomb.

Lo-Cheun, Rectangle, the two Frenchmen and the other Bullets stare at the proffered crescent icon. Behind them in the construction area, workers climb the building frames to get a better view of the exchange. Sven and Abacus emerge from the cube lab.

Jesca races to the front line, HUFFING and sweating; she stops beside Lo-Cheun, PANTING, radiating steam from her run.

Lo-Cheun points to the sculpture.

LO-CHEUN (CONT'D)

(to Jesca)

Should we accept it?

Jesca looks at the sculptor: it stands as still as the stone it proffers.

JESCA

I-

(she PANTS)

I think so.

LO-CHEUN

Why?

JESCA

It’s holding-

(she PANTS)

It’s holding that icon at a-

(she PANTS)

It’s holding it low, so that a

human could take it. It wants

someone to take it.

Lo-Cheun looks at Rectangle.

LO-CHEUN

You’re the tallest Bullet present?

RECTANGLE

I am.

LO-CHEUN

Go. Don’t you dare get killed.

Rectangle grins.

129.

RECTANGLE

I’ve no intention of letting you be the only survivor of the old squad.

Lo-Cheun does not return Rectangle’s grin. The African two-star clips his j-gun to his hipcache, inhales to steady himself and walks toward One-”Eye” twenty feet away; the man’s strides are even, measured.

Lo-Cheun hears something alarming through his earplug.

LO-CHEUN

Stop!

Ten feet from the crescent sculpture and ten feet from the Bullet line, Rectangle stops. The sculptors train their eye sockets upon him; a few wriggle their enormous claws.

LO-CHEUN (CONT'D)

Return to formation.

Rectangle- not turning around- takes one step backward.

From the Bio encampment, Sven and Abacus anxiously observe the tense tableau.

Rectangle takes a second step backward. One-"Eye" throws the stone sculpture at him; the hurled crescent impacts and SNAPS

Rectangle’s knee backwards; he GRUNTS and collapses to the ground. The Bullets aim their weapons.

LO-CHEUN (CONT'D)

Bullets! Hold. Yves, Jean-James,

get Rectangle.

The two Frenchmen race toward Rectangle, pick him up by his arms and carry him back to safety. The injured Bullet endures his extreme pain in silence.

LO-CHEUN (CONT'D)

Elysabeth is besieged.

EXT. OPTION-1 OCEAN - MOMENTS LATER

A shadow wholly covers the Elysabeth, cast by a seventeen-mile-long crescent made of lavender ice. The top of the cyclopean vessel is perfectly flat; from its underside extrude thousands upon thousands of cylinders, all made of lavender ice...an upside-down metropolis.

Water drips from the cylinders, falls through eight-thousand feet of air and onto Elysabeth’s hull, a TATTOO of raindrops.

130.

INT. MULTI-STAR COUNCIL ROOM - SAME

Dishevelled and confused Seniors pour inside the summit room; Graynose turns to an eye in the ceiling.

GRAYNOSE

Try to get out from under it. Now.

EXT. OPTION-1 OCEAN - SAME

Thirty of Elysabeth’s boosters spark to life, flashing white luminance (FWISS) and CRACKING the ice.

One of the cylinders drops from the underside of the CRESCENTCRAFT. The lavender ice projectile lances into Elysabeth’s right thigh with a thunderous B-DOOM, plummets straight through the craft and submerges into the water below.

Red blood pours from the open wound in Elysabeth’s thigh.

She GROANS.

The submerged cylinder boomerangs back, lances up into Elysabeth’s other leg...and explosively emerges, B-DOOM.

Sparks, shards of steel, clots of Fleischwerk and gouts of blood erupt from the thirty-foot-wide wound.

The cylinder of lavender ice returns precisely to the nook in the underside of the crescentcraft whence it dropped; the surface of the cylinder is completely unscathed.

Elysabeth’s boosters darken; she sits idle in the shadow of the alien oppressor.

INT. FLEISCHWERK BUNDLE ROOM 1 - SAME

The walls are covered with hemispherical domes containing Fleischwerk woven with a filigree of dark red nerves. Tears drip from eleven eyeballs embedded in the ceiling and PLIP

upon the floor.

EXT. OPTION-1 OCEAN - SAME

A metal dome on Elysabeth’s back opens up to reveal twelve Dragonfly probes. With twelve bursts of light (POOMF) the insectile probes lurch into the air; rear thrusters fire, FWASH.

131.

The Dragonflies speed out of the crescentcraft’s shadow, into the viridescent night.

INT. MULTISTAR COUNCIL ROOM - SAME

Graynose, Florida, Hector and the other stunned Seniors look at the panorama screen: the assailing vessel threatens like a floating peninsula above them.

GRAYNOSE

What are you doing?

ELYSABETH’S VOICE

Counterattacking.

FLORIDA

With what?

ELYSABETH’S VOICE

Drones.

EXT. OPTION 1 ATMOSPHERE - SAME

Dragonflies climb into the atmosphere. Their hulls begin to glow with heat.

INT. MULTISTAR COUNCIL ROOM - SAME

The panorama image divides in two: the first image is of the crescentcraft, the second image is of the ascending probes.

The Dragonflies’ metal hulls glow bright red, heated by their flight into the atmosphere.

HECTOR

(to Elysabeth)

Spray them down-- they’re gonna

melt.

ELYSABETH’S VOICE

The alien craft radiates cold far

more frigid than the local climate--

heat seems a likely weakness.

FLORIDA

You’re turning those probes into

kamikazes?

Upon the screen, the twelve Dragonflies speed upward, shaking;

132.

their red hot hulls become white with the heat they endure.

Like twelve luminous boomerangs, the ships arc around...and descend.

EXT. OPTION-1 OCEAN - SAME

The colossal ship sits like a petrified bat over its dwarfed adversary, the enshadowed Elysabeth.

From the sky above fall twelve burning, SIZZLING white stars--

the Dragonflies. Trailing smoke, dripping molten steel, the insectile crafts careen toward the seventeen-mile-long crescentcraft.

The probes fan out, accelerate and impact the icy surface: twelve flowers of white fire and black smoke burgeon along the top of the lavender ship, a series of SNAPS followed by BOOMS.

INT. MULTISTAR COUNCIL ROOM - SAME

Graynose, Florida, Hector and the other gathered Seniors stare at the monitor.

The bright explosions of the twelve probes can be seen from below, through the lavender ice of the ship. The conflagrations fade.

EXT. OPTION-1 OCEAN - SAME

Twelve molten disks resembling featureless dimes pepper the surface of the crescentcraft.

The cyclopean vessel tilts its southern end two degrees down: the metal ingots- all that remain of the Dragonflies-smoothly slide off of the ship, thorough the air and into the water: SPLASH-SPLASH-SPLASH...

The lavender surface of the crescentcraft is unblemished.

INT. MULTI-STAR COUNCIL ROOM - SAME

The Seniors are silent and grave.

INT. THRUSTER BAY (INTERNAL) / LEFT LEG - SAME

Water and ice ROAR through the bottom breach, into Elysabeth’s left thigh;

133.

Fleischwerk detritus, metal shards, sparking wires and spraying arteries make the environment a volatile, CRACKLING, HISSING maelstrom.

Manned by two PEOPLE each, three repair spheres- Handyman units- attend to the holes in the leg.

INT. MULTI-STAR COUNCIL ROOM - SAME

Graynose, Florida, Hector and the fourteen other Seniors on-board watch the panorama screen that hangs from the ceiling.

The broadcast displays a shot of the seventeen-mile-wide lavender crescentcraft looming eight thousand feet overhead.

The five moons in the sky are faintly visible through the ice of the craft.

ELYSABETH’S VOICE

Everyone please remain where you

are while the threat is being

handled. You will be informed what to do when action is needed. Thank you.

All of the Seniors look to Graynose; the perspiration-glazed man wipes his face.

GRAYNOSE

It’s not a coincidence that we shot the sculptors’ legs and now this

craft has done the same to our

ship. Clearly, they are allied

with this craft.

(to an eye in the wall)

Elysabeth, can you see any movement within the alien vessel?

The panorama screens divides into forty-eight images; Elysabeth’s powerscopes scan the cylinders of the vast ship.

One of the images locks in on a solitary tube and tightens.

Inside the lavender ice, suspended in a solution with luminous bubbles, is a pink worm with two ‘heads,’ each covered with a dozen tubes supporting white eyes.

GRAYNOSE (CONT'D)

Tighter.

The image grows larger, admitting more detail. The worm’s body is covered with a net of green veins; from its underside sprouts white hair; thirty pink tentacles of varying length jut from its ‘chest’. From the swollen region at the bottom of its body emerge two white branches which terminate in dozens of spoke-like fingers.

134.

GRAYNOSE (CONT'D)

(enervated)

Elysabeth...give us some scale.

How...how large is that life form?

ELYSABETH’S VOICE

Eleven feet in diameter; seventy-

four feet long.

The Seniors stare at the ICEWORM, stunned and horrified. The creature’s posterior ‘arms’ move at incredible speeds (poking luminous bubbles), while the tentacular extrusions languidly writhe.

GRAYNOSE

Are there more of these...ice

worms?

The panorama image divides into thirty: each image isolates another iceworm, adrift in a serum with luminous bubbles, its white branches a flurry of activity.

HECTOR

I think we’ve come upon that

technologically superior species

Jesca described.

FEMALE VOICE (O.S.)

We need to get our people out of

the sculptors’ cave and then we

need to leave this planet.

The Seniors look over at the woman entering the room.

Escorted by two Bullets, leaning on a crutch, is the bruised former-leader Thakani.

THAKANI

I have nineteen qualified pilots

ready to retrieve the people

stranded within the settlement. My volunteers are not afraid to die:

they will not leave until they have completed their mission.

Graynose stares at Thakani, pondering.

THAKANI (CONT'D)

May we redeem ourselves?

GRAYNOSE

You may.

135.

INT. THE HUMAN PLATEAU - SAME

Fifty-one sculptors face thirty Bullets; the stone icon lies between them; both groups are still and tacit. Lo-Cheun TAPS

his earplug.

LO-CHEUN

We’re pulling out. Elysabeth is

threatened with annihilation and a

fight here won’t help matters.

Sven and Abacus beeline for the Bio division’s hover-van. Lo-Cheun looks back at the stunned workers standing within the settlement.

LO-CHEUN (CONT'D)

Empty the hover-vans and pack in as many people as you can. They’re

sending more crafts for those of us who remain. All Bullets stay

behind. Go.

The workers disperse in disordered confusion.

LO-CHEUN (CONT'D)

Do not exceed the vehicle’s weight

limit-- you wreck in the cold out

there, you’re dead.

The watching sculptors sound weird LOW PITCHES in unison.

The anthropologist points: from the rim of the plateau clamber ninety-two more SCULPTORS. They join but do not advance past the first fifty.

LO-CHEUN (CONT'D)

Di yu.

Lo-Cheun glances back at the hover-vans: the first is filled and rising into the air, VWIRRR; people are just now climbing into the back of the one Sven pilots. Lo-Cheun TAPS his earplug.

LO-CHEUN (CONT'D)

Once you’re full, go.

The filled hover-van surges forward, propelled by its sizable rear thrusters, VWIRR...

Heavy stones fall from the cavern ceiling onto the craft, mashing the steel hull with a BOOMING tattoo.

136.

The people inside SCREAM. The pounded hover-van veers, drops and crashes into the stone forty feet below, BOOM!

The crushed and dying people trapped within the wreckage CRY

out in agony; a few blood-covered survivors squirm from the wreckage like terrible newborns. People run to help.

Lo-Cheun points to the roof of the cavern.

LO-CHEUN (CONT'D)

KILLCALL!

INT. PRAYER ROOM - SAME

Aboard Elysabeth, sixty-four people sit on wooden, v-shaped benches in the non-denominational prayer room. Colored glass lit from behind illuminates the variegated occupants.

Amongst them is Mlissa, clutching her six-pointed star.

Everyone is silent.

Without warning, half of the room disappears, CRUSHED into oblivion by a speeding cylinder made of lavender ice, FWASH!

INT. DOCKING TUBE / ARMADILLOS AND HANDYMEN - SAME

Transports Armadillo-5 and Armadillo-7 rocket through and then out of the docking bay in Elysabeth’s arm, into the preternaturally dark night of the crescentcraft’s shadow.

INT. ARMADILLO-5 - SAME

Piloting the ship is Stanuel (the curly-haired blond man who explained the midwives’ agenda). Five hover-vans are parked in the transport’s hatchbay; within each sits a solemn PILOT...a freed conspirator.

INT. MULTI-STAR COUNCIL ROOM - SAME

The Seniors watch the panorama; internal disasters unfold upon the screen. A thought occurs to Florida.

FLORIDA

Is it too late to try to parlay?

Send someone to meet with them?

The Seniors look at Florida; the little leader nods.

GRAYNOSE

Let’s try a Dragonfly first. See

how they react to that.

137.

Graynose looks at an eye in the wall.

EXT. OPTION-1 OCEAN - SAME

Within a crater on Elysabeth’s stomach, Dragonfly Spirit-12’s hull-boosters fire, POOMF; the craft lurches into the air and slowly ascends toward the miles and miles of suspended cylinders that hang above like a chandelier.

The probe ascends, VWIRR...

Three thousand feet separate the Spirit-12 from the crescentcraft; two thousand feet separate the insectile probe and the looming aggressor. The probe draws within one thousand feet of the crescentcraft.

Without a sound, a cylinder drops from the crescentcraft, turns into lavender mist the moment it impacts the Dragonfly; resolidifies and replaces itself in the bottom of the crescentcraft.

The night is silent. Like a specimen trapped in a glass paperweight; the Dragonfly probe hangs petrified in a lavender cylinder from the bottom of the crescentcraft.

INT. MULTISTAR COUNCIL ROOM - SAME

The Seniors stare at the panorama, upon which is broadcast an image of the crescentcraft; the optic tightens on the trapped probe.

GRAYNOSE

Elysabeth, is Spirit-12 still

transmitting a signal?

The image upon the panorama splits into twenty-five smaller images: lavender ice, gray fuzz, the moon as seen through lavender ice, the slug-like body of an ice worm (its posterior branches shifting speedily) and different views of luminous bubbles drifting in random or linear patterns.

FLORIDA

(to Graynose)

What do you think those bubbles

are?

GRAYNOSE

Proteins? Nutrients? Maybe a

means of storing information?

Florida considers the information and then nods.

138.

FLORIDA

I have an idea. But we should

evacuate Elysabeth first.

INT. THE HUMAN PLATEAU - SAME

The two Frenchmen put thermal contacts into their right eyes and look into the darkness of the cavern ceiling.

SECOND FRENCHMAN

The ones we shot-- out to avenge

their missing legs. Spray shots.

The two Bullets aim their j-guns up and squeeze off bursts-CH-CHAK, CH-CHAK- rotating their barrels in small circles to cover a larger- but specific- diameter in the darkness.

Five sculptors (each without legs) fall from the cavern ceiling more than twelve-hundred feet above; they impact the stone and BURST into pulpy abstracts of red blood and pale organs.

The other Bullets keep their weapons trained on the one-hundred-and-thirty-three sculptor host; the humanoids have not moved. Lo-Cheun listens with disbelief to his earplug.

LO-CHEUN

In daylight?

(he listens)

Fine. They getting close?

EXT. CREVASSE WITHIN THE CRATER - SAME

Two Armadillo transports hover just above the crevasse; the five risen moons glint upon their studded-metal hulls. Each carrier casts five shadows into the crevasse below.

Purple coolant billows out of each craft’s open hatchway; hover-vans fly out into the moonlight and plunge into the crevasse below, VWIRRR.

INT. HOVER-VAN BODYBUILDER-2 - SAME

Isabel (the bruised Spaniard upon whom biological tests were run) guides her empty hover-van into the defile. She CLICKS

on her lights, illuminating the ridged wall obscured by shadows.

139.

ISABEL

(muttered)

Dondes la puerta?

(to the convosphere)

Armadillo-5. Where’s the door?

STANUEL (O.S.)

The coordinates say you’re right in front of it.

ISABEL

Then it’s shut. How does it open?

FLORIDA (O.S.)

From the inside.

ISABEL

Cojones.

Isabel drags her guidestick left; the craft’s lights sweep across the stone: there is no ingress. Other hover-vans hover on either side of her.

INT. THRUSTER BAY (INTERNAL) - SAME

The breached area of Elysabeth’s thruster bay is still; the rushing waters have frozen over. Trapped in the moonlit ice are two dented Handyman units; within each sphere are two PILOTS, a tableau of frigid asphyxiation.

EXT. OPTION-1 OCEAN - SAME

The crescentcraft looms like a continent over Elysabeth. The water below is completely frozen over.

Nine miles north of Elysabeth, the crescentcraft releases four cylinders. The lavender tubes SHATTER the ice and plunge into the frigid depths below.

An instant later, the four cylinders emerge. The first oblong is filled with exactly twenty-thousand squidfish, all arranged in perfect rows; the other cylinders are filled with long lancers, eels and TRIANGLERS, the same exact quantity and arranged in the same perfectly linear way.

The cylinders return to their respective nooks within the bottom of the craft; eighty-thousand open fish eyes stare out into the night.

140.

From Elysbeth’s right wrists pour Armadillo transports, one after another, VWIRR... They fly close to the frozen surface of the water, out of the shadow of the crescentcraft.

INT. MULTI-STAR COUNCIL ROOM - SAME

Graynose, Hector and three other Seniors remain in the room staring at the panorama. The diminutive leader rubs his face and looks at the eye in the ceiling.

GRAYNOSE

How capable are you- at this point-

of flying?

ELYSABETH’S VOICE

I am capable, albeit diminished.

INT. HOVER-VAN BODYBUILDER-2 - SAME

In the crevasse, Isabel jams the guidestick to her left; the stone wall of the defile whirls by like a drawn curtain.

ISABEL

We can’t get in.

INT. THE HUMAN PLATEAU - SAME

Lo-Cheun listens to his earplug with disbelief. He turns to face the parked hover-van within which Sven and Abacus sit, the cargo bay full and shut. The Senior TAPS his earplug.

LO-CHEUN

Bjorlsson.

INT. HOVER-VAN BICEP-9 - SAME

Sven and Abacus look at the convosphere and then through the windshield.

LO-CHEUN (O.S.)

The hover-vans are outside waiting

to pick us up and get us out of

here-- go open the goddamn door.

Now.

SVEN

Got it.

141.

ABACUS

Hate that guy.

Sven turns and looks through the cargo bay slat.

SVEN

Hold on back there.

The Swede faces forward and then presses his guidestick to the left; the settlement spins around him; he dials 125 LIFT; the ground falls away.

LO-CHEUN (O.S.)

Fly close to the ceiling so they

can’t drop stones on you.

SVEN

(to the people in the

rear)

Uh... really hold on.

Sven punches 150 LIFT; the craft rapidly ascends to the top of the cavern. He dials up the thruster; the craft lurches forward; several THUDS sound in the cargo hold.

FEMALE VOICE (O.S.)

Watch it asshole.

ABACUS

Don’t antagonize the driver-- he’s

maladjusted.

The cavern ceiling comes into view through the windshield; Sven CLICKS on the lights.

The bright blue beams stab into an aperture...and the faces of three watching sculptors: the backs of their eye sockets are filled with hundreds of black bristles. The illumined humanoids retreat up into the ceiling, away from the speeding vehicle and into darkness.

A dropped object BOOMS upon the hood of the craft.

Sven pulls the guidestick to the right, veering away from the orifice in the ceiling. A THUD sounds from the cargo bay.

Somebody YELPS.

MALE VOICE (O.S.)

I’m gonna wring your-

Abacus shuts the slat to the cargo bay.

142.

INT. CORKSCREWING PASSAGE - SAME

Bicep-9 careens up the spiraling passage, barreling around at a dangerous speed, VWIRR...

Attached to the roof of the vehicle, gripping the steel with its many talons, is a prostrated sculptor.

EXT. OPTION-1 OCEAN - SAME

A lone Dragonfly probe (Seraph-3) rises toward the bottom of the crescentcraft, VWIRR...

INT. DRAGONFLY SERAPH-3 - SAME

Florida, solemn and still, sits alone in the rising probe.

The monitors before him are filled with depictions of lavender ice.

FLORIDA

(quietly)

Ooh doe he you ee, ooh nay la nuh

he.

INT. HOVER-VAN BICEP-9 - SAME

Sven pilots Bicep-9 up the ramped hallway; the terminus dead-ends with stone. He dials down the thruster. Abacus plucks the convosphere.

ABACUS

Any idea how to open the door?

LO-CHEUN (O.S.)

Let me ask Jesca. Hold.

The sealed terminus of the passage slowly draws nearer.

LO-CHEUN (O.S.) (CONT'D)

No. Improvise.

CAWRUNCH! From the cargo bay come SCREAMS.

FEMALE VOICE (O.S.)

There’s one on top of us!

Abacus opens the slat and peers through.

143.

INT. HOVER-VAN BICEP-9 / REAR - SAME

A taloned hand thrust through the cargo bay ceiling scrapes the face from a THAI WOMAN; the other passengers press themselves into each other, away from the invasive appendage.

INT. HOVER-VAN BICEP-9 - SAME

Sven punches 150 LIFT.

INT. RAMPED HALLWAY - SAME

The hull-boosters flash with a POONF. The hover-van rises speedily toward the ceiling of the passage, the prostrated sculptor still atop the vehicle. The craft is fifteen feet from the ceiling, then ten feet...

INT. HOVER-VAN BICEP-9 - SAME

Sven punches 0 LIFT.

INT. RAMPED HALLWAY - SAME

The craft’s hull-booster shuts off; inertia carries the ascending craft to the ceiling where it flattens the sculptor against the stone, WHAM. The humanoid BURSTS like a balloon filled with crimson ichor, its bones and organs POPPING.

The hover-van drops toward the ground of the passage.

INT. HOVER-VAN BICEP-9 - SAME

ABACUS

Uh...falling...?

Sven dials on 100 LIFT.

INT. RAMPED HALLWAY - SAME

Boosters flare beneath the falling craft, POONF; the hover-van is buoyed two feet above the floor, safe from impact.

The roof is covered with innards and a red glaze.

144.

INT. HOVER-VAN BICEP-9 - SAME

Sven dials up the rear thruster; the craft surges forward toward the rock-obfuscated end of the passage.

ABACUS

That wall of rock looks rather hard. I’d not want to smash into that.

Sven does not reply.

ABACUS (CONT'D)

This thing have a missile launcher

I’m unaware of?

SVEN

The rear thrusters are pretty

potent.

Sven yanks the guidestick around.

INT. RAMPED HALLWAY - SAME

The hover-van spins around 180 degrees. Two small jets HISS

from beneath the headlights of hover-van Bicep-9. The craft jumps backwards and SLAMS into the crevasse wall, back-end first.

The HISSING blue flames of the reverse thrusters press the rear of the craft into the wall; the metal bumper GRINDS into the rock.

INT. HOVER-VAN BICEP-9 - SAME

SVEN

(to the convosphere)

Tell the people on the other side

to clear the area-- we’re coming

through.

Sven dials up the rear thruster.

INT. RAMPED HALLWAY - SAME

The rear thruster ignites, VWIRRR; the ship lurches a few yards forward from the sealed exit but the reverse thrusters hold the craft in place.

145.

Front and back engines concurrently firing, the ROARING rear thruster heats up the stone, an improvised welder’s torch.

The crevasse wall behind the hover-van’s engine begins to glow. Smoke roils from the scorched stone.

INT. THE HUMAN PLATEAU - SAME

Lo-Cheun looks at his soldiers: the weary Bullets hold the line with their j-guns. Additional SCULPTORS clamber up the plateau to join their brethren; nearly two-hundred blank faces stare at the thirty Bullets.

The Bullet Senior glances at the settlement: survivors from the wreck are tended to beside the cube labs; antiseptic foam or suture putty is applied to all treatable wounds.

INT. HOVER-VAN BICEP-9

The craft shakes like a blender. Smoke fills the passage outside; Sven reaches for the rear thruster dial. Abacus braces himself.

SVEN

Everybody hold on!

ABACUS

I hate you.

Sven dials the rear thruster off.

INT. RAMPED HALLWAY - SAME

The rear thruster cuts off; the front thruster repels the hover-van backward, into the glowing wall, BOOM!

EXT. CREVASSE WITHIN THE CRATER - SAME

From a welter of smoke and stones, hover-van Bicep-9 emerges into the crater, backwards, covered with grit and rocks.

Within the craft, Sven dials on the rear thruster, VWIRRR; the backwards-careening craft stabilizes.

A moment later, the nearby hover-vans- lights glaring- enter the passage, one by one, VWIRRR...

146.

INT. THE HUMAN PLATEAU - SAME

Nine hover-vans are parked within the settlement; people pile into the open cargo bays.

Lo-Cheun and the Bullets slowly back toward the crafts; the sculptors- keeping equidistant- follow. The Senior TAPS his earplug.

LO-CHEUN

Bjorlsson. Dock in Armadillo-5.

Bullets load into the last two hover-vans. On backward-bending knees, the sculptors continue forward.

Lo-Cheun climbs into the cockpit of Bodybuilder-2; he sits inside, next to Isabel. He glances at her, frowns and then looks back at the sculptors.

LO-CHEUN (CONT'D)

Drive.

ISABEL

You’re welcome.

LO-CHEUN

I didn’t thank or forgive you.

Drive.

The Chinese man shuts the door. The hull-boosters fire, POOMF; the craft rapidly ascends.

INT. HOVER-VAN BODYBUILDER-2 - SAME

Lo-Cheun scans the area for survivors: only sculptors inhabit the plateau. Rising into the air beside Bodybuilder-2 is the other Bullet-filled hover-van, QUADRICEP-2. Seated in the cockpit of the adjacent vehicle are the Frenchman and Rectangle, the latter holding his wounded knee.

The Chinese Senior TAPS his earplug.

LO-CHEUN

All clear. Rende-

BOOM. BOOM. BOOM. The hover-van shudders and tips forward, SLAMMING Isabel and Lo-Cheun forward into the control board; the walls and floor outside wobble drunkenly.

147.

Lo-Cheun rights himself and looks at the adjacent hover-van: the front is caved in by stone: the craft sinks to the two-hundred sculptors below. Lo-Cheun makes eye contact with Rectangle and the Frenchman; he TAPS his earplug.

LO-CHEUN (CONT'D)

We’ll...we’ll come back for you.

Lo-Cheun looks away, TAPS his earplug, squeezes his fists and looks at Isabel.

LO-CHEUN (CONT'D)

Get out of here.

Isabel dials up the rear thruster. Lo-Cheun shuts his eyes and shakes his head.

LO-CHEUN (CONT'D)

(muttered)

Pook gai.

INT. THE HUMAN PLATEAU - SAME

Hover-van Bodybuilder-2 careens toward the ledge, carrying Lo-Cheun, Isabel and a cargo bay filled with Bullets from the settlement, VWIRR...

The failing hover-van (Quadricep-2) steadily loses altitude; its engine HISSES sparks; motes of light CRACKLE within its damaged thruster, inebriated fireflies; a high pitched EEEEP

sounds in alarm.

Within the cockpit, Rectangle points to the uncut, dark region of the steam cave. The Frenchman piloting the craft steers toward the indicated direction. The shimmying, teetering, drooping craft is swallowed by the darkness.

With a triumphant chorus of discordant PITCHES, the sculptors plunge into the abandoned human settlement. Blue sparks fill the air.

INT. ARMADILLO-5 - MOMENTS LATER

The curly-haired pilot Stanuel guides the crowded transport through the dark night. At the front of the one-hundred-and-four people that fill the hold are Lo-Cheun and Jesca. The Seniors stare at the frozen water below: the cold sheet scrolls past, its crenulated surface like hammered steel.

Seated in a parked hover-van are Sven and Abacus, both exhausted and silent.

148.

INT. MULTI-STAR COUNCIL ROOM - SAME

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. The Seniors look at the convosphere.

LO-CHEUN (V.O.)

We left seventeen Bullets behind.

Hector looks at Graynose; the diminutive man seems to age a decade in the two seconds he takes to reach a decision.

GRAYNOSE

Hold to the daylight rendezvous.

EXT. OPTION-1 OCEAN - SAME

Dragonfly Seraph-3 slowly rises toward the crescentcraft.

A lavender cylinder drops toward it, turns to mist, resolidifies and replaces itself in the undercarriage, the probe imprisoned.

INT. DRAGONFLY SERAPH-3 - SAME

Florida sags back in the webbing of his seat. Fastened in the seats beside him are giant canisters labelled CODFISH

ANTIFREEZE CONCENTRATE. Clutched within each of his hands is a bleach bomb.

The Native American Senior looks at the monitors in the front console of the craft. Graynose’s face shines upon a small panorama.

FLORIDA

Goodbye.

GRAYNOSE

Thank you.

Florida presses his thumbs into the glass-marble detonators in the sides of each of the bleach bombs, CRACK, CRACK. For a fraction of a second he, Antifreeze canisters and the hold are a uniform stark white color.

EXT. OPTION-1 OCEAN - SAME

Within the cylinder of ice, the captured Dragonfly Serpaph-3

implodes and turns white. The lavender cylinder it sits in is bleached: veins of white streak through the crescentcraft, pink antifreeze chases after it, corroding the ice.

149.

INT. MULTISTAR COUNCIL ROOM - SAME

Graynose looks Elysabeth in the eye.

GRAYNOSE

Launch!

EXT. OPTION-1 OCEAN - SAME

Ninety-three (of the one-hundred-and-seventy-two) boosters on Elysabeth’s legs fire; her white jets CRACK the frozen surface of the ocean. Ice shards, water and steam churn behind the two-and-half-mile-long vessel.

Elysabeth soars out of the crescentcraft’s shadow and arcs away, into the sky.

Pieces of lavender ice fall from the wobbling crescentcraft.

INT. MULTI-STAR COUNCIL ROOM - SAME

Some of the Seniors CLAP. Tears pour down Graynose’s face; Hector SINGS a Spanish victory song.

On crutches (but sans escorts), Thakani walks into the room.

THAKANI

I suggest we do repairs after we

rendezvous, in transit away from

this planet.

GRAYNOSE

I concur.

Graynose looks at one of Elysabeth’s eyes.

GRAYNOSE (CONT'D)

Release the prisoners.

THAKANI

Thank you.

Graynose looks over at the solemn woman and gestures to a chair nearby.

GRAYNOSE

Please Thakani- take a seat.

The woman smiles.

150.

EXT. OPTION-1 OCEAN - SAME

Corroded cylinders veined with white drop from the crescentcraft into the ice and water below, CRACKING upon impact. Various pillars PUFF into lavender mist; from these vapors drop ninety-eight ice worms.

The pink slugs frost over the moment they come into contact with the frigid air. Frozen, they drop into the ice and water below; several SHATTER upon ice floes, their viscous innards erupt into welters of clear, white and silver fluid.

A moment later, the seventeen-mile-long vessel teeters and drops atop the fallen pilots with a titanic BOOM.

INT. ARMADILLO-5 - SAME

Sven and Abacus, seated within the hover-van in the docking bay of the transport, stare through the windshield.

The people nearby- watching a panorama that broadcasts the image of the fallen crescentcraft- CHEER. Sven looks at Abacus; neither of them look happy.

SVEN

Somehow this situation does not

inspire me to cheer.

The Armadillo crosses the line of demarcation into daylight; sun pours into the front of the ship like the explosion of an atomic bomb.

Sven turns his head away; Abacus squints.

ABACUS

Next time I say a planet is lousy,

people should listen.

EXT. OPTION-1 OCEAN - DAWN

The transports speed inside the opened right wrist of the smoking, sparking two-and-a-half mile-long craft, Elysabeth.

EXT. OUTER SPACE - LATER

Spinning to maintain artificial gravity, Elysabeth thrusts away from Option-1.

151.

INT. COMESTIBLE QUADRANT - SAME

Sven, his eyes filled with apprehension, sits on a foam bench within the eating area; he does not communicate with any of the seventy-four EATERS peopling the room.

The concerned young man stares at the entrance way, barely breathing or blinking.

Lo-Cheun walks inside; he sees Sven and walks toward him; the Swede frowns at the sight of the Chinese man.

LO-CHEUN

Bjorlsson.

The Senior stops a yard from Sven.

LO-CHEUN (CONT'D)

We lost some Bullets on Option-1.

I’d have no problems putting in the paperwork to make that last star of yours red. Your ingenuity helped

us achieve a victory even though-

SVEN

Strange. I don’t actually consider what happened here winning. Both

sides had casualties and nothing

was gained.

LO-CHEUN

Today you get a little latitude.

Talk to me like that tomorrow and

your second star becomes hollow.

Lo-Cheun turns away; a person SLAMS into and knocks him to the ground.

Sven looks up. Mlissa clambers off of the fallen Senior.

MLISSA

Sven!

The tall woman lunges at the grinning Swede; she fervently embraces him; he holds her close.

Lo-Cheun gets up off the ground and considers chastising the woman, but simply GRUNTS and walks away.

MLISSA (CONT'D)

(whispered to Sven)

I did that on purpose.

152.

Sven starts to LAUGH.

Titlecard: 2981 (Sixteen Earth-Standard months later) EXT. OUTER SPACE

Elysabeth, dented, lacerated and covered with dead eyes, floats in space. (Blue foam fills and seals all of her open wounds.)

INT. MULTISTAR COUNCIL ROOM - SAME

Graynose, Thakani, Lo-Cheun, Jesca, Hector and twenty-seven other Seniors sit within the room. Outer space is visible through the vine-adorned picture window.

Wearing a new Fleischwerk nose- a narrow and upturned model-the diminutive leader addresses an active polypillar.

GRAYNOSE

Eight months from now the ship

should be fully functional. At

that time, we- all of us- return to the vaults.

Thakani stands, the polypillar refocuses on her.

THAKANI

May you- and the thirty-eight

newborns birthed and expected-

dream of a better world than the

two we’ve now left behind.

INT. SVEN AND MLISSA’S COMPARTMENT - LATER

The lone ellipsoidal window in the small blue room admits a view of luminescent solar winds and scattered stars. Sven, healthier and calmer from the intervening months, looks at Mlissa: her hair has grown longer and her lithe body supports a belly vastly swollen by pregnancy.

MLISSA

Are you sure?

SVEN

I should do this. And now-

153.

Sven gently presses his fingertips to her swollen belly and kisses her sweetly.

SVEN (CONT'D)

-now I can do this.

Mlissa grins.

INT. TRANSMISSIONS BOOTH - MOMENTS LATER

Sven sits on an orange bench within a small turquoise booth.

Filling the wall opposite him is a curved panorama screen.

SVEN

Transmissions for Sven Fredrik

Bjorlsson.

ELYSABETH’S VOICE

Two transmissions.

The screen illuminates. Pictured upon the glass are Chief Bjorlsson, his chest stiff behind his four stars, and GETREN, an emaciated woman of fifty years, lying in a hospital bed.

Wires and tubes run from her into an expanding and contracting and pulsating Fleischwerk Polyorgan.

Sven stares at his parents. Upon the screen, Getren leans forward to address the camera.

GETREN

(weakly)

I’m sorry.

She COUGHS. Even strained, it is clear that her voice is the same as Elysabeth’s.

GETREN (CONT'D)

I am so, so sorry pojke...Sven

Fredrik. I know you didn’t want to go, but I couldn’t stand the

thought of you here- on this dying

world- so I asked Jan to-

(she COUGHS)

I asked him to send you.

Chief Bjorlsson grabs Getren’s hand and kisses it.

CHIEF BJORLSSON

(to his wife)

Getren...dear...don’t agitate

yourself. He’ll understand.

154.

GETREN

(to her husband)

I just...

(to the camera)

Don’t be angry with your father--

it was my idea. I just wanted you to have a chance...and I didn’t

want you to stay behind... because

of me.

Chief Bjorlsson brushes the hair from the sick woman’s face.

Getren COUGHS again and again; her paroxysms pain her deeply.

The four-star TAPS his earplug.

CHIEF BJORLSSON

Get the doctor in here again. Now.

The Chief looks at the screen.

CHIEF BJORLSSON (CONT'D)

Off.

The screen turns white for a moment.

The blank slate is replaced by a shot of Chief Bjorlsson, seated upon a brown leather sofa. He has aged twenty-six years since the previous transmission: his hair is white, his drooping nose and ears are bigger and his face is wrinkled.

The haunted old man stares at his hands.

CHIEF BJORLSSON (CONT'D)

Hello Sven.

(he CLEARS his throat)

Your mother passed on a few weeks

after that last one. Sorry I

haven’t been in touch sooner. I

meant to, I just didn’t.

(he fidgets)

I hope you’re alright. Things are

very difficult these days, for all

of us. The thought of you out

there...

Chief Bjorlsson looks up and points to the sky. He returns his gaze to his knobby fingers.

CHIEF BJORLSSON (CONT'D)

The thought of you out there, gives me hope.

The sad old man looks at the camera, his eyes agleam with tears.

155.

CHIEF BJORLSSON (CONT'D)

Thank you for that.

The screen turns white.

Flooded with warring emotions, Sven stares at the blank panorama.

SVEN

You’re welcome.

Titlecard: Eight Earth-Standard months later INT. CRYOGENIC VAULT 20

The cryogenic room is lit by a yellow bulb in the middle of the floor. Twenty-five humans and three manacled sculptors-their talons removed- hang frozen and drained within the turquoise bags suspended from a metal runner in the ceiling.

Amongst the preserved bodies is Lo-Cheun, sans Fleischwerk arm, frowning; a photo of Neredth is clutched in his hand.

Several bags behind him hangs Graynose, sans Fleischwerk proboscis, relaxed for the first time in over two years.

EXT. OUTER SPACE

Eleven Handyman units apply themselves to the damaged portions of Elysabeth. The Fleischwerk-driven spheres weave venous nets over the blue foam that fills her sutures.

ELYSABETH’S VOICE

Once my children were safely

frozen, I shut down and began

repairs.

INT. GILL ROOM #5 - SAME

The walls of the plasma-filled room are lined with Fleischwerk gills from which bubbles percolate. A translucent HANDYBOY unit slices into the infected north wall with a glass scalpel. Black pus spills like squid ink into the submerged enclosure.

ELYSABETH’S VOICE

Bad blood was purged; damaged

tissue excised.

156.

Titlecard: 2998 (Seventeen years later) EXT. OUTER SPACE

Elysabeth’s sutures are covered-over with dull metal; replacement eyes and powerscopes adorn her hull.

ELYSABETH’S VOICE

Once I had healed, our second

journey began.

The one-hundred and seventy-two thrusters in her legs fire, glaring like exploding suns. Elysabeth soars.

INT. CRYOGENIC VAULT 34 - SAME

Hanging from the metal runner in Cryogenic Vault 34 is Sven, curled-up and drained. Behind him is Mlissa, similarly preserved.

Behind the athlete is the curled-up form of a BABY GIRL, behind that infant is the form of her twin, a BABY BOY. Sewn into their tiny one-piece suits are their names: Getren and Kenneth.

ELYSABETH’S VOICE (V.O.)

My children slept for many years

before the Dragonflies and I found

Option-2.

Cut to black.

The End.