by Rolf Nelson
Harbin steps forward between Guard2 and Guard3, stabbing Guard3 in the throat with the scissors and shoving Guard2 hard from behind, tossing him forward onto Guard1, who stumbles and falls with Guard2 on top of him. Harbin grabs the very surprised, and nearly dead Guard3 and pulls him forward on top of the other two, while pulling out the scissor blade and slicing sideways as he does so.
Guard1: (Stumbling forward) THE HELL?!
Guard2: (Falling on Guard1) WHAT’S WRONG WITH YOU?!
Harbin lunges forward and slashes the throat of Guard2 as he rolls over trying to recover. Harbin holds it to the throat of Guard1 with an intense “freeze or die!” look on his face. Guard1 freezes.
CUT TO
View of down a back aisle between two high rows of shelving
Helton hurries down the aisle and around the corner and sees what’s transpired. He looks slightly shocked.
Helton: Why didn’t you call me?
Harbin: (Matter-of-factly) There were only three of them.
DISSOLVE TO
Low angle view down a middle aisle
Guard1 is tied up similarly to Slaver1. Two bodies lie nearby with Helton and Harbin in the background looking into an open gun crate.
Harbin: If we can find ammo, things just got easier.
Helton: I’ll see what there is.
Helton moves off down the aisle and around the corner searching shelves. Harbin stoops down, removes a rifle shrink wrapped in plastic from the packing crate, peels back the wrapping.
Helton: (OC) Found it.
Harbin: Good. Drag a few thousand rounds up front, then find magazines.
Helton: What?
Harbin: Hope we don’t need it all, but ammo is like money. I have yet to have too much.
FADE TO BLACK
Flight
FADE IN
INT - DAY - Warehouse near front entrance
Harbin and Helton carry rifles slung across their chests with a few magazines of ammo in their pockets. There is a heap of stuff near the door: two duffel bags, 20L water cans, a couple more rifles, opened cases of ammo and bandoleers full of magazines.
Helton: Almost time.
Harbin: (Nods) Still need more flier info from our unhelpful friends, though… You might want to plug your ears.
Helton looks at him uncertainly.
Helton: I thought Sikhs were all peaceful and into the sanctity of life?
Harbin: Mostly, yes. Never said I was a particularly good one. And others are depending on us.
Harbin walks out of view toward the back of the warehouse. An agonized scream rings through the room. Then another. Another. Helton winces more each time.
DISSOLVE TO
Front of warehouse
Harbin walks toward the pile of things he pulled out of Slaver1’s pockets and fishes out an electronic key. He then holds up a small bag with something in it.
Harbin: I think we have what we need. Time to go.
Helton: (Warily) What’d you do?
Harbin: Pegged his give-a-shit meter.
They turn toward the door.
CUT TO
EXT - DAY - View past the corner of the warehouse
Helton and Harbin walk confidently by the corner of the building toward the landing area. Each carries a slung rifle across his chest, three bandoleers and a duffel slung over his shoulders, a water can in one hand and an ammo can in the other. They stride boldly to the largest of the fliers. At the boarding hatch near the front they set down the gear and water in their hands. Next to the closed hatch is a hand-scan pad.
Helton: What now?!
Harbin retrieves the bag from a cargo pocket. From it takes a severed hand and places it against the scanner. It flashes green and built-in stairs fold down as the hatch opens. He drops the hand back in the bag, tucks it back in his pocket, and picks up his load as if it were the normal boarding procedure. They march up the stairs and inside.
CUT TO
INT - DAY - Cargo bay of flier
The door is closing behind them as they come aboard, drop the supplies on the deck, and head for the nearby cockpit door. They arrive at the door side by side and pause, each waving the other to go first. There is an awkward silence as they look at one another with an awful realization.
Harbin: Are you a pilot?
Helton: … Aren’t you? It was your idea.
Harbin shakes his head.
Silence for a moment as they consider their predicament.
Helton: (Questioningly) Not at all?
Harbin: Not even barely.
Helton: Then let’s hope this thing doesn’t crash as easily as a simulator.
Harbin gives Helton a look of surprise, then fatalistic acceptance, as Helton leads into the cockpit.
CUT TO
INT - DAY - View of cockpit, from the front toward the door
They climb into the seats and buckle themselves in, then sit for a moment as Helton looks over the controls.
Helton: (Muttering to himself as he visually identifies and points to items) OK, master ignition, keylock, attitude indicators, pedals, landing gear, that must be… (confused for a moment) hopefully something I don’t need… Ah! Security check! Give me a hand, there.
Harbin positions the severed hand on the hand-print reader off to one side, which blinks for a moment then lights up with “pilot authentication POSITIVE.” Harbin gives the electronic key to Helton, who inserts it into the keylock, lighting up the panels. He examines screens, flips a few switches, and a moment later the sound of machinery spinning up to speed reaches their ears.
Helton: (Grimly) Here goes. Hang on tight.
CUT TO
EXT - DAY - Aerial view of the small landing field
Their flier sits in the foreground. It start to rise, slowly, unevenly. It tips, lurches to one side, runs into the other large flier next to it with the landing strut, tearing a big gash and tangling the forward landing gear of Helton’s flier. It twists, tips, and turns trying to get free, but the strut just gets more tangled. After a few moments struggling to the whining sound of over-stressed drives, it sways and sags down on the opposite side of the grounded ship at a steep angle, front end on top of the second large flier, back end squishing a nearby small flier.
VIEW PANS AROUND TO
Large doorway of a building built into the side of the mesa
Armed and uniformed prison guards, sloppily dressed and unkempt, exit the building, firing at the ship that is now sitting off kilter, half on and half off the other large ship. The rear cargo ramp of the flier drops and Helton and Harbin run out, heading for the remaining medium flier. Helton is carrying supplies (water in his hands, duffels and rifle slung), Harbin only bandoleers, an ammo can, and a rifle.
CUT TO
View from behind Harbin over his shoulder, towards the building door
Harbin drops to one knee into a good supported firing position and squeezes off a dozen rapid aimed shots, guards falling to the ground in rapid succession. Though the guards are spraying on full automatic, the shots wildly kick up dust spurts, none very close to Harbin. He is calm and precise, a professional. A few more guards come out of the building at a run while some retreat back into the building rather than get shot, a generally confused and chaotic scene. Harbin keeps shooting, drops a magazine, and smoothly inserts another one with barely a pause in his firing.
CUT TO
View through a gun’s telescopic sight
Looking down from a high angle, the crosshairs are centering in and focusing on Helton. Much shooting is still heard in the background. Helton tosses a few items in through the flier’s open door and turns (facing away) to wave to Harbin and yelling to hurry up. The crosshairs settle high on the center of Helton’s back. BOOM! The view jerks up in recoil then settles back onto Helton’s prostrate form. He is stretched out face down, motionless, a charred smoking spot covering much of his upper back. The scope swings over to the foot of the ramp of the crashed flier where Harbin is firing. As the crosshairs focus on him, it is cle
ar that Harbin is aiming directly at the guard looking through the scope. Harbin’s gun jerks slightly, and there is a puff of smoke from the barrel. A bullet THWAKs into flesh, and the view of scope and crosshairs jerks crazily skyward.
CUT TO
View over Harbin’s shoulder, with twenty-one dead guards spread around the open door of the building he’s facing and no moving guards. One dead guy hangs over a parapet wall atop a building, next to a mounted light grenade launcher. Harbin squeezes off a few rapid rounds through the open doorway to the building guards were coming from, and into the metal edges of the door.
CUT TO
INT - DAY - Just inside the mine building
A pair of guards stand at the edge of the large doorway. One nervously prepares to peek around the corner toward the airfield, and suddenly a hole appears with a CLANK! in the sheet metal wall next to him. He pulls back sharply from the doorframe as bullets buzz past to ping on metal somewhere inside the building.
CUT TO
EXT - DAY - View of Harbin on the landing field
Harbin grabs his ammo can from the ground and sprints to where Helton has fallen. He kneels, taking a few more covering shots. He looks down at Helton. The big burn mark clearly goes though the coat, revealing the shiny silver-white of the book that Helton tucked away in the cave. Smoke rises from his coat, and the back of his neck and head are blackened and blood-spattered. Harbin grabs Helton’s shoulder and rolls him over.
CUT TO
Helton’s POV as he rolls over
A ringing, roaring, muffled combination of sounds. Everything is blurry, dark, and slow motion as he looks up into Harbin’s face as he mouths “Come ON! ON YOUR FEET! We GOTTA GO!” The POV goes black for a second as Helton closes his eyes and reopens them in slightly better focus. He half sits up, looking sideways at an angle. Dust puffs kick up from bullets hitting nearby.
CUT TO
Normal over-the-shoulder view of Harbin taking a few more cover shots, then pulling back as he helps Helton to his feet and, stumbling, the few steps to the flier stairway. As Helton works his way up, Harbin drops to his knee and takes a few more aimed shots. He stands, tosses the last things through the door, runs up the stairs to board the ship, pauses at the top, rapidly empties the magazine back at the building, then ducks through the hatch.
CUT TO
INT - DAY - Cockpit of ship
The layout is much like the simulator layout Helton crashed. Sun comes in through the windshield, casting stark shadows on the grimy cockpit.
Helton looks over the controls for a moment, rubs his face, shakes his head gently to clear it, winces and begins the launch sequence, visibly struggling to focus and think. He clumsily slips the electronic key into its slot, and Harbin puts the severed hand on the ID scanner again. Helton flips switches. The sound of a drive system spinning up fills the cabin.
CUT TO
EXT - DAY - View of ship and landing field from a distance
Flying camera view following the flier as it rises smoothly, angles away, and heads toward a valley between two mesas. It sweeps up and around the building, across a small spur and around a bend in the valley, then swoops down to land near the cluster of waiting passengers.
CUT TO
INT - DAY - Cargo bay of the flier
It is small, about the size of a V-22 deck, lined with flip-down seats. Harbin stands next to the ramp, pulling tight the straps on a safety harness. There is a thump and a jerk as the flier sets down. He hits a large button on the bulkhead and the rear ramp rapidly lowers to the ground. Many exclamations of “thank God” and “great to see you” and the like are heard from the passengers as they scramble aboard.
Harbin: EVERYONE MAKE IT?
Female passenger: (Happily) Yes, all here!
All the passengers run up the ramp as fast as they can to board, carrying the smaller kids.
Harbin: (From ramp door facing inward, yelling, serious drill sergeant voice) One per seat and buckle up!
He takes a nearby kid from her dad and sits her into a seat, grabs the straps, buckles her in with practiced speed and efficiency, then looks up the cargo hold to see everyone else is doing the same.
Harbin: (Yelling towards the cockpit) LIFT OFF! GO GO GO!
He slaps the ramp button, and it slowly starts to rise.
CUT TO
EXT - DAY - Landing field
One of the slavers carrying a light machine gun with a long belt of ammo jumps into the remaining flier, a small open-topped two man quad-rotor with ducted fans. He drops the gun into the pintle mount on the front right corner of the cockpit, grabs the controls, hits a button, waits a moment as the propellers spin up to speed, then takes off after Helton.
CUT TO
INT - DAY - Flier cargo bay
The cargo bay loading ramp is about two-thirds closed. Harbin, now with a safety line clipped to his harness, checks the buckles of those seated on the cargo deck wall. Next to him, a passenger pours a cup of water from the 20L can they had brought aboard. A loud roaring of air rushing past an open door fills the cargo bay, everyone’s hair is blowing a bit. There is a metallic CLANK as the water can sprouts two holes, one facing the open ramp and one on the opposite side. Harbin jerks his head around to look out the back door. There is a spurt of hydraulic oil out from near the ramp lift pistons. One of the lines springs a bullet hole, and the ramp stops closing.
Camera view pans to look out the back door, then zooms in on the small quad-rotor that is now just a little way behind them, its pilot aiming at them with the mounted machine gun.
CUT TO
View from the front of cargo bay looking out the back hatch
Passengers line the wall, buckled in, holding various items like the duffels, ammo bandoleers, and the water can. Harbin snatches his rifle from the man holding it for him, barrel-down, steps to the back door and braces with a knee and one hand, then starts firing at the quad-rotor as it dodges and jerks behind the swooping, twisting ship. Harbin struggles to keep his feet as the flier dives and swerves, the view out the back door shifting wildly. A series of holes appear in the loading ramp. Splashes of bullets bouncing off interior points glint around the cargo hold.
INSET - A bullet passes through Harbin’s leg as he stands there, blood leaking out of the entry wound, and a small spray of gore out the exit wound. More than a scratch but not hitting bone.
Harbin fires one handed, fires, fires again, but the combination of Helton’s evasive flying and erratic quad-rotor motion is hard even for him. He drops the magazine, inserts another one from a pocket, switches to full auto and hoses down the general area of the quad-rotor, brass flying.
CUT TO
Flier cockpit
Helton twists and turns the control yoke as the canyon walls flash by through windows and screens. He flips a switch, adjusts a large lever forward. He grits his teeth and, seeing a sheer wall ahead, pulls back hard on the yoke.
CUT TO
EXT - DAY - Over-the-shoulder POV of quad-rotor pilot
One hand is on the belt-fed pintle-mounted light machine gun, the other on the control yoke. As he flies erratically back and forth, he fires bursts at the flier, sometimes hitting it, sometimes shooting wide. They swoop through a series of tight turns with steep canyon walls on each side. A bullet from Harbin breaks his windscreen, making him swerve. He fires back. Another swooping curve, another round tears a small hole in the front of his quad-rotor. He shoots again. A stream of tracer fire blossoms out from the flier as Harbin fires on full auto. The quad dodges wildly to avoid it. The tracers cease, and the quad banks back to fire another burst. Suddenly, the flier pulls straight up, revealing a sheer rock wall ahead.
CUT TO
INT - DAY - Cargo bay, view of Harbin
Rifle still shouldered he inserts another magazine. The view out the aft door changes sharply as Helton stands the craft on its tail and climbs straight up. Shift to slow motion, Harbin is pitched forward and through the half open ramp door, getting a cl
ear and close shot at the quad-rotor. As Harbin falls through the air he points the rifle, firing on full auto. Tracers rip through the quad pilot and one motor.
Cut back
EXT - DAY - Quad pilot over-the-shoulder POV, slow motion
Helton’s flier goes straight up. As Harbin drops out trailing his safety line on the harness, he fires a long burst. The quad engine explodes, the windshield shatters, the pilot rocks back as rounds rip through him. The quad-rotor is heading straight for where Harbin falls though the air. He’s jerked up hard on his safety line, whipping up and out of the view, clearing the oncoming quad-rotor like a high-speed yoyo being reeled in. The quad flies straight on into the rock wall and explodes, splattering on the sheer rock wall of the canyon.
FADE TO WHITE
Relaxing
FADE IN
INT - DAY - Spaceport lounge
A busy place, lots of booths, tables, many screens on the walls, varied lighting. Helton and Harbin sit across from each other at the end of a long table. A dozen passengers from the pirate rescue sit along the table with drinks and the remains of meals in front of them. The other passengers talk among themselves. The two are comfortable with each other.
Harbin: Been a while since I had more action on leave than in the field. Felt good to be in a noncontract fight where the only rule was “win.”
Helton: Too bad about your being shot, though. The leg seems to be healing nicely. No noticeable limp.
Harbin: Shouldn’t be. The Boss and the Wife both frown on getting damaged outside the line of duty. On duty as well.
Helton: I’m sure they’d cut you some slack, given the situation.
Harbin: (Grunts) Part of my job is to teach people how to not be careless and die from stupid. I wasn’t careful enough when I boarded the tramp ship and let myself be gassed and dropped in the desert. That would be unforgivable if we hadn’t managed to get ourselves out of it.
