|
TRIUMVIRATE (Installment Two)
By The Host
Here's part two of Triumvirate; roughly the next eleven minutes (to the twenty minute mark). Look for the next installment Friday!
DAVIES’S FIGHTER loops around the floating wreckage of a mostly-intact ship, keeps going, jinks out of the way of enemy fire, and passes the last gun platform. Johnson heaves with effort and relief; Davies smiles still. The fighter is in the outer fringes of the planet’s atmosphere, glowing with the heat of entry and scarred by the heat of battle. Tattered red clouds lay ahead of them, the planet’s murky whirlpool in that direction will soon engulf them.
DAVIESWhat’s left of us?
JOHNSONWe seem to be okay.
DAVIESI mean the rest of our flight group.
JOHNSONI don’t know.
Davies presses a button on his computer monitor and speaks.
DAVIESCommander Hartley, we’re through.
There is no response.
DAVIES (CONT'D)Commander? Dan? Anyone?
A moment passes.
DAVIES (To Johnson)
Is—
JOHNSON(Looking at his own monitor)
Comm system’s fine. We went through the magnetic shield ages ago.
A pause. Davies looks at the crimson clouds rushing towards him, the outermost around him.
DAVIESThe inner patrols must be near ahead.
JOHNSONThey won’t want to get too close to those guns right away.
DAVIESI suppose we should turn around.
JOHNSONYeah.
Davies steers the ship away from the planet, back toward the guns. There are fewer in front of them than there were before, and as they approach they can see that the first capital ships have arrived on the other side, their tugs now astray. The remaining gun emplacements are being quickly dispatched.
JOHNSON (CONT'D)Do you think they’ll really need our help?
DAVIESThey might.
He indicates a wave of friendly fighters speeding through and past the gun-barrier, towards Davies and Johnson and the planet beyond.
Davies steals a look over his shoulder. Johnson nods. Davies reverses direction again, passing through the first line of fighters and taking position behind them. All together they fly directly toward the clouds...
...And as they are enveloped by red, DAVIES’S HUD detects a dozen enemy fighters nearby. Davies’s fighter shakes violently in the turbulent air. Lightning streaks from cloud to cloud all around him. He can barely see ahead, and can hear little but the SCREAM of the wind. He tries desperately to pull up, tries to lock on to the nearest enemy, but is hampered by gravity.
JOHNSONJack, this is rough.
DAVIESUh-huh. We in range?
JOHNSONOnce you point us the right way.
Davies levels out. A friendly fighter roars past, guns blazing. The computer locks on to the nearest enemy.
JOHNSON (CONT'D)Bombs away!
Two missiles shoot out from a canister in the belly of their ship; immediately an UNFAMILIAR MAN appears on the communications monitor.
MANWhat the hell are you doing?! We’re in tight quarters, you’ll have a friendly killed!
DAVIES (To Johnson)
Don’t fire missile.
Johnson only nods. Suddenly a fighter appears visibly before them, shooting straight at them. Davies banks out of the way just in time; Johnson dispatches only a few pot-shots. Suddenly they emerge into a wide pocket in the clouds; hundreds of vessels on both sides engage each other, swarming around a small space station that resides in the center of the open region. Lightning arcs throughout. The station’s guns, if it has any, are silent.
JOHNSONThat’s it.
Davies looks earnestly ahead as he prepares to engage the nearest fighter. Suddenly lightning arcs for a split-second across his line of flight; he swerves out of the way only to be faced with another bolt ahead. He swerves again and faces the station once more; an enemy fighter – or is it friendly? – whizzes past spouting flame and billowing smoke.
DAVIESYou think we can lob a missile at the station?
JOHNSONWe’d have to get close or we'll hit one of ours. We’d have to get close.
Davies deftly maneuvers the vessel through enemy fire, making for the station.
DAVIESBut do you think we could?
JOHNSONWe might take out a gun emplacement or two, or a loading bay.
DAVIESAll right.
Johnson spins around in his turret and fires at a passing fighter; it goes up in flames.
JOHNSONYou prepared to die for your country?
DAVIESWouldn’t think of it.
Johnson smiles at this when suddenly a bolt of lightning arcs through the space and through their fighter and on to clouds beyond. Sparks fly and the ship spins wildly towards the station.
DAVIESAre you okay?
JOHNSON(Frantically poring over computer monitor)
I am but we aren’t. Targeting, flight control, self-destruct are all destroyed. We’ve still got engines which means we’re gonna keep on just about straight ahead until we hit something, like that.
He points to the station, growing rapidly nearer.
DAVIESEject.
JOHNSONSeparate system. It’s fine.
DAVIESNo, I mean eject!
JOHNSONOh.
Johnson flips a cover atop a lever and presses a button and then bodily pulls the lever towards him and his chair tilts suddenly back ninety degrees and disappears into a chute gaping behind him. Two seconds later his escape pod shoots out behind the fighter, and Davies’s own cockpit detaches and launches in a different direction as his ship zigzags down to the space station and finally slams into it with a loud BOOM. Davies himself speeds toward the station, where his pod maneuvers itself – or is pulled – toward an opening in the station’s hull. He passes through and heavy doors close him off to the outside.
INT. STATION -- CHUTE -- CONTINUOUS
His pod slides down a twisting chute, slowing to a stop at its end. The pod is lifted upright and slides open concurrent with a noiseless door on the other side.
INT. STATION -- HALLWAY – CONTINUOUS -- BRIGHT
Davies stumbles forward and collapses onto the floor of a curved hallway. FOUR UNIFORMED GUARDS, of Arab ethnicity, run towards him; Davies is up in a flash, spinning and withdrawing his laser pistol and shooting and missing; one of the guards skillfully shoots the blaster right out of his hand while two others restrain him. Davies struggles for a moment, as the fourth guard steps up to him.
FOURTH GUARDDon’t bother. You’re a prisoner of war now and you won’t be mistreated.
Davies eyes the guard contemptuously for a moment; the guard looks back sternly but not angrily. Davies gives up his struggle. The guard speaks as the two holding Davies clap restrainers upon him.
FOURTH GUARDStation Commander Muhommad wants a word with you.
Davies opens his mouth to question, thinks better of it, and stalks silently along with his captors.
INT. STATION -- COMMANDER’S OFFICE -- DARK
The room is draped in utter darkness. A door slides open, a stream of light spills in. Jack Davies and his guards enter.
NEW ANGLE revealing the STATION COMMANDER MUHOMMAD silhouetted against a broad window. Behind him the battle rages on. The light filtering through the blood red clouds casts an eerie glow over that side of the room.
Davies is escorted to a seat facing the Commander at his desk; there the guards leave him. After a moment Commander Muhommad speaks, quietly.
MUHOMMADWe’re on emergency power, so I can’t see your face.
Another moment passes. Then:
MUHOMMAD (CONT'D)
Why are you attacking us?
A pause. Davies stammers.
DAVIESBecause . . . We’re at war.
MUHOMMADCan you tell me why?
DAVIES (Beat)
I don’t know.
Another moment of silence.
MUHOMMADWhy are you attacking us?
DAVIESI said, sir—
Muhommad stands, cutting Davies off.
MUHOMMADWe are a civilian station Mr – what’s your name?
DAVIESJack Davies, sir. You’re—
MUHOMMADThis is a hospital you are attacking Mr Davies, did you know that?
Davies turns as Muhommad circles him.
DAVIESNo, it’s not. You make weapons here.
MUHOMMADWe don’t make weapons, Mr Davies; we heal their targets. I’ll show you.
DAVIESYou’re well-defended for a hospital, aren’t you?
MUHOMMADWe were attacked, weren’t we?
INT. HOSPITAL WARD -- MOMENTS LATER -- BRIGHT
A long, narrow room. Everything is slick and clean and bright white. Dozens of sleek chambers like glass coffins line either wall; in each rests a man or woman, horribly disfigured; on each is a cornucopia of monitors and displays. NURSES AND DOCTORS hurriedly attend to one sleeping patient after another. Davies and Muhommad walk slowly through the middle of the room; Davies tries not to look at the bodies, the faces. Guards behind them keep their distance. Faint BOOMS echo through the space.
MUHOMMADActually, this is a medical research center. Our people have been under fear of the plague for five decades now. Millions have died. But hope seeded, and we had been conducting some very secret, very important research here. Until four weeks ago.
They continue on a moment unspeaking. Prompted by silence Davies tentatively speaks.
DAVIESFour weeks ago?
MUHOMMADFour weeks ago we discovered a cure. A cure, Mr Davies, to end the suffering of the people of Al T’Har. The first transport shipment to our home planet was destroyed – space pirates, they told us. Then there was war and now there is siege and still the people of Al T’Har suffer, and our cure remains locked here in impotence. It could be lost, if we lose this battle.
DAVIESYou will.
Muhommad halts and turns to Davies.
MUHOMMADI know. That’s why we need you.
INT. STARSHIP – LOUNGE -- DIM
Robert Johnson gazes at the space station, on the other side of the gap in the clouds, which is now under heavy attack. Most resistance has been whittled down; the space station, charred and smoking, is teetering on collapse. While he watches the destruction, a TALKATIVE ATTENDANT drapes a blanket over his shoulders. There are a few other UNIFORMED MEN in the dark room, most of them lying down or sitting and talking quietly. None are watching the battle so keenly as Johnson.
ATTENDANTAnd I tell you it’s lucky we found you when we did, and so close to the station in your escape pod, you know, you could have been captured any time. Maybe that’s what happened to your wingman, maybe they captured him, and he could be in there now and who knows what? Better in here than there I guess, you were pretty lucky all right. Anyway, sorry but I’ve gotta go and see to some other men we’ve brought in. Do you want a drink because if so there’s a fountain just outside the door, and you can go there or to the john but otherwise I’ll ask you to confine yourself to here, okay?
Johnson takes a moment to respond; finally he shakes his head ‘yes.’
ATTENDANTOkay. . .
The attendant walks over to a few other men leaning against the wall near a doorway. Johnson, his face reflected in the glass, stares into space as the station is finally ripped apart in a jarring explosion.
FADE OUT. . .
FADE IN:
INT. STARSHIP -- RECOVERY ROOM -- DIM
A utilitarian room, with half a dozen beds, mostly empty. Robert Johnson stands over one bed as Jack Davies slowly awakens upon it. There is an ugly gash on Jack’s forehead. His eyes flutter open and Johnson speaks.
JOHNSONWelcome back.
Davies’s eyes suddenly dart around, a look of anxiety briefly contorting his face, and his right hand flies up to his left breast pocket. He relaxes, then tries to sit up, grunts, and eases himself back down.
DAVIESWhat happened?
JOHNSON(Sitting beside Davies)
I don’t know. They found you in your escape pod just before the station went ka-blooey. You were pretty messed up. Something must have gone wrong in your ejection sequence I guess.
DAVIESSo we won?
JOHNSON(Smiling)
Of course. Al T’Har is one weapons facility less than it was an hour ago.
DAVIESAn hour?
JOHNSONYeah. We’re on our way back now.
DAVIESOh.
(He raises himself up a few inches)
We’ve gotta talk when we get back.
JOHNSONOf course. I’ll fill you in on what happened. But you’re right, we'll talk when we get back. You should rest now. They’re saying we should be back at One-One-Four in an hour, which means an hour-and-a-half, but y’know. Oh, here’s something, though: rumor ‘round here says we’re getting reinforcements.
DAVIESReinforcements?
JOHNSONAdmiral Dawson is coming tomorrow and bringing his entire fleet. Command wants this war over and done with as soon as possible. So they say.
DAVIESWe’ll wipe them out.
Johnson grins devilishly.
JOHNSONYeah, we will. You bet your ass.
Davies smiles weakly. Johnson stands, still smiling.
JOHNSON (CONT'D)Sleep. I’m going to the mess. I’ll see you in an hour or so.
Davies nods. Johnson leaves him and Davies stares at the ceiling in deep thought.
So, I'll ask again: whaddya think? If you took the time to read this, imagine the time it took to write it. Surely you can leave me a little comment, now, can't you?
-The Host
11/27/2002 12:58:46 PM
Comment on this fan fiction!
|
|
|
