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    #194
    The animatronic Tyrannosaur built for TLW was very strong -- it was actually used to pull Eddie out of the car and Burke out of the waterfall. (From: 'Kevy Mac')
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    SECOND TRIUMVIRATE Chapter One
    By The Host

    Howdy, folks. Here's the first installment of SECOND TRIUMVIRATE, only a year too late. Oh, well. As always, this is a work in progress and has not been edited yet -- so please ignore any typos, grammatical mistakes, or what have you.

    That said, please leave a comment -- even if it's just to say you've taken a look at it. This is a big project for me, and I pour my heart and soul into it; a little bit of encouragement -- or, better yet, constructive criticism -- goes a long way toward inspiring me to write and inspiring me to write better.

    Anyway, that's my spiel. Hope you enjoy the story! What follows represents the first eight minutes of the film -- roughly half of an extended pre-credits sequence. Already you can see the plot thickening.

    Chapter Two should be ready later tonight or tomorrow.











    SECOND TRIUMVIRATE







    by
    Matt Boudreau








    HOLD BLACK FOR SEVERAL SECONDS

    ROBERT JOHNSON (V.O.)
    Jack, you scared?

    CUT TO:



    INT. DAVIES'S BEDROOM -- DARK

    JACK DAVIES bolts upright in bed, unceremoniously torn out of
    his slumber. His chest heaves; sweat soaks his forehead; his
    eyes dart around him wildly. He sits there huffing and
    puffing for a moment, trying to control his ragged breathing
    and his pounding heart. He looks down and absently twists his
    nose between his fingers.
    SUPER:
    Twelve Years Later

    It is dark in Davies's room, but only for a moment. A modicum
    of self-control restored, Davies reaches over and lightly
    taps a small stainless steel panel next to him. The room is
    bathed in light and he is forced to blink a few times before
    things come into focus.

    Yeah, it's the same room as always. Same room it's been
    almost a dozen years. A large, empty room, irregularly shaped
    -- as if designed to hide away angry shadows in lonely
    corners. Davies sighs inwardly and slumps his shoulders as he
    swings his legs down over the bed, settles his feet onto the
    cold war, and hangs his head. He sits there like that for a
    long moment, barely stirring. Silence weighs down upon him.
    Nothing. Finally, he hauls himself to an upright position and
    stares forlornly ahead.

    After a dull moment there is a BEEP at the door. Davies
    ignores it; he doesn't even flinch. After a long moment there
    is another BEEP, this one more insistent. Davies stands now,
    looks down at the table beside his bed. There is another
    BEEP, then another, and then muffled knocking and the barely
    heard voice of an ATTENDANT.

    ATTENDANT (O.S.)
    Mister Davies! Mister Davies, sir?
    Mister Davies!

    Davies closes the table drawer, which he had been absently
    peering into, and grumbles to himslef as he shuffles toward
    the door.

    DAVIES
    Six thousand years of continuous
    human development and they can't
    get me a soundproof door.
    (Louder)
    Yeah, what is it?

    ATTENDANT (O.S.)
    Mister Davies, are you all right?

    Davies waves his hand across a panel next to the door. It
    noiselessly slides open revealing the young, well-built man
    standing on the other side.



    EXT. CORRIDOR - CONTINUOUS

    Davies stands in the doorway of the well-lit hall as he
    speaks with the Attendant.

    DAVIES
    Yeah, what is it?

    ATTENDANT
    Sir, you have to come with me--

    DAVIES
    What's your name?

    ATTENDANT
    Excuse me, sir?

    DAVIES
    Your name, what's your name?

    ATTENDANT
    Barry, sir. If you could come with
    me--

    DAVIES
    Barry, is that your first name or
    your last? Tell me your full name.

    ATTENDANT
    Last, sir. Darren Barry.

    DAVIES
    Darren Barry, do you realize that
    it's -- what time is it?

    ATTENDANT
    Oh four hundred. Sir.

    DAVIES
    Darren, do you know it's four
    o'clock in the morning?

    ATTENDANT
    Sir, it's the Emperor.

    A sudden concern washes over Davies's face and he is awake in
    an instant.

    DAVIES
    The Emperor?

    ATTENDANT
    Yes, sir.

    DAVIES
    I'll be right there.

    With that Davies withdraws back into his room, the door
    shutting behind him.

    DISSOLVE TO:



    EXT. MAGNAPOLIS - DAY

    Magnapolis, glorious seat of the United Star Systems, basks
    in the clear light of day. It has been rebuilt magnificently
    in the twelve years since battle scarred its streets.
    Intricate towers stand like mighty silent sentinels in the
    air frowning down on a procession of vehicles that snake
    through the city's core.

    Past palaces and gardens, artificial waterfalls and gleaming
    high-rises, buildings stretching tens of thousands of feet
    into the clouds, a string of eight dark shuttles plunges
    through the busy city, avoiding traffic as it makes its way
    toward the Grand Palace.



    INT. SHUTTLE - CONTINUOUS

    The shuttle's cabin is small but comfortably appointed. RICH
    MEN in expensive business suits sit quietly in comfortable
    leather seats as the bustling metropolis speeds past.

    EXLER JOGGINS is the chief of their number; a man of about
    fifty with well-defined features and a stern lip. He sits in
    silent thought, staring blankly ahead as beautiful sights
    sweep by behind him. He says not a word, makes not a move.
    After a moment an annoucement is made over the shuttle's
    intercom.

    PILOT (V.O.)
    We are approaching the Palace,
    gentlemen, and should be there in a
    few seconds.

    The men shuffle their papers and grab their DataPads and
    shove their cases under their arms and stand and stretch and
    one makes a mundane comment about the weather or his last
    fishing trip. But they all fall to expectant silence waiting
    for Exler Joggins to join them.

    Finally, slowly, he draws himself up, glances out the window,
    and sighs.



    EXT. GRAND PALACE - CONTINUOUS

    The Palace is dizzyingly large and labyrinthine, sprawling
    over dozens of wide terraces and lawns. It sits perched on a
    clifftop high above the city center, yet far below the peaks
    of the tallest towers. It is splendidly built of marble and
    gold, as if by a Rockerfeller or Vanderbuilt of the Guilded
    Age, and adorned with exquisite statuary and gardens and
    fountains and art.

    The shuttles make for a high circular terrace, its
    cobblestones forming in mosaic the Emperor's seal. The
    shuttles land and Joggins and the others make for an entrance
    nearby.



    INT. GRAND PALACE - HALLWAY - CONTINUOUS

    They emerge into a lavish hall, maybe thirty feet wide and
    sixty high, with great arched windows looking onto the
    terrace on one side and wide mahogany doors on the other. It
    is richly furnished, richly carpeted, richly adorned, richly
    designed.

    Joggins and his entourage make their way through the bright
    and airy hall, which is people by a dozen or so SERVANTS and
    AIDES going quietly about their business. After a moment the
    Imperial Treasurer, WELSH, a round and balding little man,
    runs breathlessly up to Joggins.

    WELSH
    Consul, Mister Joggins, sir.

    JOGGINS

    How is he?

    WELSH
    Not well, sir. The doctors say he
    might not make it another week.

    JOGGINS
    (Beat)
    All right. Is he a wake? Can I
    speak with him?

    WELSH
    He's awake, sir, but you'll have to
    wait to speak with him. Mister
    Davies is in there now.

    They come to another lofty hall to their left, this one with
    a grand spiral staircase rising to a balcony thirty feet
    above at the far end. Joggins and the others halt.

    JOGGINS
    Davies? How long has he been in
    there?

    WELSH
    I don't know. Maybe an hour, maybe.
    Maybe a little more.

    JOGGINS
    I'll wait.



    INT. GRAND PALACE - HALLWAY - LATER

    Joggins sits alone in a plush red chair against one of the
    walls. He sits up straight as an arrow, staring into space in
    quite contemplation. His thoughts are interrupted when a set
    of doors behind the staircase open and Jack Davies emerges
    from beyond. Joggins gazes at Davies for a moment: the man's
    face is drawn, his skin white, his eyes downcast. Welsh jogs
    over to him and they talk together gravely and quietly.
    Joggins is too far away to hear their conversation but he
    stands erect and alert, as though trying to catch a phrase on
    the wind. Davies looks up for a second and seems to notice
    Joggins for the first time; their eyes lock for a moment and
    then Davies looks away. A few seconds later, with a slow nod,
    he leaves Welsh and moves toward Joggins.

    JOGGINS
    Jack.

    Davies takes a deep breath as he reaches Joggins, stands, and
    stares the other down for a moment. Then Davies's eyes dart
    away; he sniffs and speaks in a low voice.

    DAVIES
    He's dead.

    Joggins barely flinches; just slowly nods his head. Davies's
    eyes search the floor; he absently touches his nose.

    DAVIES (CONT'D)
    He, uh. . .
    (Long beat)
    He said. . . He said me.

    JOGGINS
    (Softly)
    What?

    Davies brings his eyes to meet Joggins's, if only for a
    second.

    DAVIES
    He's given me the throne.

    Joggins doesn't respond. His lips tighten slightly, almost
    imperceptibly. Otherwise he says nothing. Davies akwardly
    places his hand on Joggins's shoulder.

    DAVIES (CONT'D)
    I'm sorry.

    Taking his hand away he nods slightly, as if to himself, and
    moves quietly away, still staring at the ground. Joggins
    watches him leave as Welsh approaches tentatively from
    behind.

    WELSH
    Sir?

    Joggins turns to him, reluctantly taking charge.

    JOGGINS
    Yes. Call . . . Let the chief
    Senators know. And the Cabinet. The
    Praefect. Media. Call them all.

    WELSH
    What should I tell them?

    JOGGINS
    Tell them . . . Whatever you think
    is best.

    Welsh nods and rushes off.



    EXT. THE UNITED CENTER - DAY

    The squarish Untied Center stands in the heart of Magnapolis,
    at the edge of a greenspace where monuments to the fallen
    Corporate and Presidential Towers now stand. Great banners,
    one emblazoned with the Imperial Seal and the other with that
    of the United Star Systems, flank the grand entrance. Traffic
    buzzes all about.



    INT. THE UNITED CENTER - DAY

    The interior of the United Center is like a large
    ampitheater, with seating for Senators above the grand
    entrance and seating for other guests along the sides. High
    above the entrance stands a line of REPORTERS, trying their
    damndest to get a good shot of the stage from over their
    shoulders. WE DOLLY BY and catch a few snippets of their
    reports.

    REPORTER #1
    It is expected that the quickly
    called address will be on the state
    of the Emperor's rapidly failing
    health. . .

    REPIRTER #2
    The Emperor has ruled peacefully
    now for twelve years, restoring
    peace and prosperity to the United
    Star Systems. . .

    REPORTER #3
    Before he took the title of
    Emperor, even before he took the
    name Augustus, he was Dawson, a
    respected Admiral in the United
    Fleets. . .

    REPORTER #4
    Of course Dawson delivered the USS
    from the hands of the evil
    Corporation. Now one must wonder if
    he will live to fight again. . .

    REPORTER #5
    And as he has already -- oh, wait,
    here they come.

    The reporter turns as everybody in the room stands solemnly.

    NEW ANGLE as Exler Joggins enters onto the stage, heading for
    a rostrum directly in front of him. Hundreds of WELL-DRESSED
    MEN silently stand as Joggins reaches the podium. He speaks
    simply and directly, his voice amplified, his visage
    magnified on giant screens hanging behind and above him.

    JOGGINS
    Please be seated.

    The entire assemblage sits down, save for a few men on stage
    and Joggins himself. Joggins takes a moment to survey the
    faces before him, then launches headlong into his address.

    JOGGINS (CONT'D)
    For twelve years I have had the
    singular honor and pleasure of
    serving, as Consul, the Emperor and
    President of the United Star
    Systems: The Emperor Augustus. For
    twelve years before that I served
    him as a soldier. Of course, then
    he was only the Admiral Dawson, but
    with a change of name and a change
    of title does not come a change of
    man. The Admiral, the President,
    the Emperor -- he was a man of
    vision and a man of integrity. He
    delivered himself upon the people
    at great personal sacrifice in a
    time of trouble, when the state was
    beset by war, and he has granted us
    an age of prosperity and freedom --
    freedom from want and freedom from
    fear -- that mankind has ever known
    before or is likely to know again.
    He served only his people and never
    himself. He served for twelve
    years.
    (Beat)
    The Emperor is dead. Long live the
    Emperor.

    Joggins turns and leaves the stage, followed by his men. The
    audience is abuzz: some are surprised, some distraught, some
    clearly expected this to happen; some might even have wished
    it. The reporters all immediately turn and chatter excitedly
    away, repeating that the Emperor is dead, that he was a great
    man, and that you heard it here first.

    FADE OUT.





    So, that's it. Again, please comment!

    Thanks,
    The Host




    NEXT CHAPTER
    TABLE OF CONTENTS






    8/18/2004 8:29:14 PM
    (Updated: 8/19/2004 12:28:36 AM)
    (Updated: 8/19/2004 5:53:28 PM)
    (Updated: 8/19/2004 5:55:01 PM)
    (Updated: 8/20/2004 3:17:38 AM)
    (Updated: 8/20/2004 3:18:23 AM)
    (Updated: 8/20/2004 3:20:48 AM)

    Comment on this fan fiction!




     
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