by Rolf Nelson
Ship AI: (OC, softly skeptical) Are you positive, sir?
Helton: Yes, I’m positive!
Ship AI: (OC) Right now, sir?
Helton: YES! Drop the ramp RIGHT NOW!
There is a slight pause, the sound of metal sliding on metal, then with a tremendous crashing, WHUMPing CLANG!, the massive ramp drops in freefall, hitting the ground hard, as if it’s not under control at all, sounding like an iron mountain falling to earth. Sunlight blasts in. Standing right next to now-nearly-horizontal ramp in a cloud of dust is a very surprised Floyd, eyes huge and startled. He turns slightly to look at them, and the ramp lying across his very recently made foot prints. He was missed by inches.
Floyd: Um, uh, yuuu…
Helton: Oh, God, was there someone behind you?
Floyd: N-n-n-no, bu-buuut… some…
Floyd points off beside the ship, trembling, in shock at his close call.
On the road near the side entry of the ship is a utility truck with several workers and a lot of equipment in the back. On the ground and walking briskly toward them is a sharply-dressed pair of men. Seymore (mid-30s, very slick looking) and Seeless (50s, balding, paunchy, weaselly).
Seymore: (Sounding like a used car salesman with a quart of high-octane coffee in him) Jed Seymore, Seymore’s Custom Aerospace Maintenance. Biggest and best ship shop in Adelaide. I heard that you were planning on refitting this fine old ship, and I am at your service. We can start with a full survey of her to find out what she needs, then work through a bill of particulars. Survey’s free if you contract the work out to us, and we are the only company that could possibly put this grand old classic back in service. When would you like to start?
Helton: (Suspiciously)… How much for just the survey, no promises?
Seymore: Ah, a man that likes to keep his options open! Good idea. For a ship of this type and age, it would need a very thorough going over, and just the preliminary might take five or six-
Helton: Quote, or walk.
Seymore: Ah, well, it’s not like I can-
Helton: Five… Four…
Seymore: One fifty.
Helton: … A hundred and fifty what?
Seymore: Well, we’d have to-
Helton: (Firmly) NO.
Seymore: (Indignant) What do you mean, NO?
Helton: If you can’t give a specific price for a specific service, then “no.”
Seymore: You can’t just turn me down like that! There’s no one else around that can do this sort of work.
Helton: I’ll find someone.
Helton turns and walks back up the ramp. Seymore starts to follow.
Helton: (Flatly) Off my ship.
Seymore: (Getting angry) Now, look here-
Helton glances over toward the truck. The group of workers have jumped out, and are walking over to their boss, carrying tools. Not just workers, enforcers.
Helton:… Let me think about it, and make some calls to see how things work around here, OK?
Seymore: (All smarmy smiles again) Fine, fine. That’d be just the thing to do. I look forward to hearing from you soon.
Helton walks back up the ramp, Seymore joins his men and walks back toward their truck. Helton stands at the top of the ramp with Allonia watching them drive away.
Allonia: Well, the good news is that you just told Scammin’ Seymore to take a hike, and saved yourself a pile of money.
Helton: (Cautiously) And?
Allonia: He’s connected to the local mob and the city council, and is a big player in the Port Authority, so it will cost you an even bigger pile. He likely heard you paid the power bill and figured you were rich enough to want to bleed you personally.
Helton gets an “ah, shhiiitttt” look.
Helton: Just lovin’ this ship more and more.
DISSOLVE TO
INT - DAY - Officer’s mess aboard Tajemnica
Helton sits at the table in the now clean and sparsely appointed mess room, interviewing potential ship repair contractors that sit across from him.
Series of scenes
● Skinny Guy in greasy overalls: Not gonna be cheap. Engines shot, grav’s shot, life support’s on life support-
● Well-dressed, plain-looking older woman: Initial survey would cost at least a quarter mil to get a comprehensive audit on what needs to be done-
● Fat guy: Not even worth using as a parts ship. Nothing on board is used anymore-
● Young guy: Looks worse that it is, nothing here you can’t patch or buy replacement parts for-
● Nervous-looking guy: Has Seymore turned it down yet? I don’t want to move in on him or anything-
Allonia is sitting across from him, an e-reader in her hand. Her hair is up, and she has a neutral expression on her face.
Allonia: That’s everyone I could find who would even talk to you.
Helton looks back at her, slumping into his seat, depressed looking and grim faced.
FADE TO BLACK
Orders
FADE IN
INT - DAY - Modest sized office
Four desks, eight chairs, two doors, good lighting, generic nearly empty shelves. A minimal, spare, recently-moved-into industrial look.
Lag sits at a desk reading an e-reader. He’s wearing a simple but smart-looking dark blue military uniform. There is a knock at the door.
Lag: ENTER!
The door opens, and in walks a middle aged woman in a similar uniform, LT Kat. She’s slender and fit, with long hair in a braid; time and experience are doing a poor job of hiding the beauty of her youth. She walks precisely to the front of Lag’s desk, comes to attention, salutes.
Kat: Reporting for duty.
Lag casually returns the salute, waves to a seat in front of his desk and hands her another e-reader.
Lag: Welcome back. Good to see you again. Have fun on McCullum Prime?
Kat: (Smiling) Not nearly as exciting as working with you, of course, but no bullet holes, either. Good to be back; been too long.
Lag: Different sort of mission now. Wade through that and tell me what you think.
Kat takes the offered e-reader, leans back, and starts examining it intently. The clock on the wall reads 0628.
DISSOLVE TO
Series of shots fading one into the next showing the passage of time
● Kat in a different sitting position, clock reads 0833
● Kat and Lag both pacing back and forth, reading, clock says 0951
● Kat looking at the e-reader with a confused look on her face, opening her mouth about to say something, then touches the e-reader screen to look at something else, and bites back her comment. Clock reads 1013
● Kat tapping furiously on the e-reader, starting to say something, tapping again, biting off her comment, changing pages again, starting to say something, and looking even more confused. Clock changes from 1141 to 1142
DISSOLVE TO
Kat setting the e-reader on the desk, rubbing her face, looking tired.
Kat: Sir… as a long-time legal officer I’ve see all sorts of orders. But I have never seen anything so poorly written, contradictory, confusing, and patched together. It looks like a copy and paste from a hundred different standard-form directives, put together by a demented third lieutenant, with some random alterations of commas, periods, odd external references, numerous changing of “and” to “or” and vice versa. Bizarre mix of administrative budget cutting, logistics support, working with local contractors, recruiting, transporting of down-cycle troops, reconnaissance, border clarification, training, combat, pirate hunting, negotiation, and God only knows what all else. I officially have absolutely no idea what the hell we are supposed to do or what the priorities are, what assets we have, what the budget is, where we go, or what sort of timeline we have. I’m not even sure who you report to! 136 sections, 81 appendices, and at least a half dozen circular references-
Lag: (Cheerfully) Excellent!
Kat: Ummm… what?… sir?
Lag: Could you
find something in these to justify just about anything?
Kat: (Cautiously) Well… yeeeeesssss, likely there’s something somewhere that could in theory support anything short of multi-system genocide if you torture definitions and phrases hard enough.
Lag: And is there anything in there that prohibits action?
Kat: (Disgusted) Narrowly read, it’s a straightjacket that makes us ask permission in triplicate to breathe.
Lag: So, anything we do that works out, we could justify?
Kat: (Slowly, cautiously) Yeeeeesssssss?
Lag: And if we screw up, we could get hung out to dry as disobeying orders?
Kat nods slowly, starting to see where it’s going.
Lag: (Grinning) So, let’s not screw things up, and see what we can do!
Kat looks at Lag in surprise.
Kat: So, this is…?
Lag: Let’s get started. Section 23 says we need to cut our core budget by 20%. That’s about the same as the maintenance section, I believe. Go find Chief Stenson, tell him he and his section are fired, and send him in here.
Kat looks appalled.
Kat: (Faltering) You want… me … to fire…?
Lag: (Cheerfully) Yes. He should be out training some guys on the J-6’s.
Kat: (Flatly) Fired.
Lag: Absolutely.
Kat stares at Lag in disbelief. Then, she sets her face in an angry scowl, stands, salutes, about faces, and strides out. Lag smiles, and returns to examining the e-reader.
DISSOLVE TO
Later, same office
Lag still sits at his desk, reading. The door opens, and Chief Henery Stenson strides in, smiling, with a confused looking Kat right behind him. He’s late 40s, short cropped graying hair, mustache, trim and muscular, wearing stained and well-worn cammies with rolled-up sleeves, and tool belt.
Stenson: Fired again, eh?
Lag: (Briskly) Indeed. What’s the local talent like?
Stenson: What, no vacation?
Lag shakes his head. Stenson shrugs and flops into the chair in front of Lag.
Stenson: Eh, not bad. Local companies are a mixed lot, some good individuals, not many that could pass age, physical, or background, as recruits, though.
Kat: I thought he was fired?
Lag: (Ignoring Kat) How’s your section?
Stenson: So-so. Usual mix. Only a handful of stand-outs.
Lag: (To Kat) How long to establish a local corporation?
Kat: (Even more confused) Start a corp?
Lag looks at her and patiently waits for her to answer the question. Stenson grins like he knows what’s going on, and is enjoying Kat’s momentary confusion.
Kat: … Uh, well… an hour or so to find a location, if requirements aren’t too demanding, and another hour to fill out the forms and file. Pretty simple here, I think, depending on the type. But what does that have to do with-
Lag: Section 30 says we, quote “support and utilize local companies where possible,” unquote. Please work with Mr. Stenson to identify a suitable nearby location for “Stenson’s Heavy Equipment Repair Company”, file the necessary forms for it and an associated apprenticeship program, transfer employment for the dozen or so platoon members he wants to keep, expedite the background checks for any locals he wants to hire and train, and select “Stenson’s HERC” as the local contractor of choice for needed support services for our unit, as stipulated in section 118. I’m sure that when we leave, we’ll also be able to achieve our recruitment goal of 15% laid out in Section 55, too, because we can take them with us. Oh, and while you are looking at real estate, see if you can locate a suitable place for housing an infantry company of recruit trainees; Section 103 says to assist with other units in the area, and I know the 46th have some training problems the First Sergeant can help with, while we take care of some other items.
Kat realizes what’s happening and glares at Lag for a moment for the trick he played, then smiles.
Kat: Ah. I see. OK, sir, be happy to.
Stenson stands, turns, and walks toward the door with Kat.
Stenson: (Teasing) You didn’t think he’d really let me go, did you?
FADE TO BLACK
Noncoms
FADE IN
EXT - DAY - In the cab of a light truck
View in through the side window. Two soldiers in full combat armor (helmets off) drive down the dusty road leading to pad D9. CPL Kaminski, a huge, powerfully built Viking-looking guy drives while eating a brown food-ration bar. SGT Kaushik, a trim light-skinned East Indian, is in the passenger seat.
CPL Kaminski: (Defensively) She said “recon and secure the building.”
SGT Kaushik: When the Colonel or Top tells you that, yeah, you need armor, air cover, and a hot line to the artillery battery. When the Lawfare Officer tells you, you gotta be smart enough to know she means look it over and get a lease with option to buy. All this gear (indicates the armor) is useless to check out a building. Contrary to common myth, not all soldiering problems are solved with massive firepower, explosives, hacking, or any of your other creative solutions.
CPL Kaminski grunts assent and looks at the food bar, throws it down on the dash in disgust.
SGT Kaushik: Not likely to get better soon. Top says keep a low profile in town, and there are not a lot of HQ services out here yet. Get used to it.
They drive a bit further, approaching the building on the outskirts of the spaceport.
Kaminski: That’s gotta be it. What’s that across the street?
Kaushik: It’s a ship, Corporal.
Kaminski: (Sarcastically) Well, no shit, Sarg. I mean, what kind of ship?
Kaushik: (Very studiously, after taking a long look) Old.
They pull up next to the large hanger/warehouse, number 1701, and look at it.
Kaminski: Seems in decent shape. Doesn’t look big enough.
Kaushik: Drive around it, let’s see all sides.
Shift camera view to beside the building, aiming toward the end of the Tajemnica with the lowered ramp.
Kaminski takes off around the corner of the building in a cloud of dust, with both of them looking at the building, a basic industrial beige metal box with a 8m roof, some large doors, and a few windows. About ten seconds later, a van-type vehicle pulls up, the back doors open, and out jump a half dozen rough looking gents in coveralls, and from the front steps the mean-looking Seeless. They head for the ramp. About ten seconds later, CPL Kaminski pulls back into view and parks just behind and to the side of the van.
Kaushik: Someone’s home, looks like.
Kaminski: Think Chief Stenson’d like to know about the ship parked across the street?
Kaushik: Oh yeah. He loves classic ships. Let’s drop in, say “Hi.”
They hop out of their vehicle, check and sling their rifles, and head for the ramp. They walk around the corner to the ramp and look in to see Helton on the cargo bay deck just above the ramp, Seymore’s thugs in a loose semicircle around him.
Seeless: So, if you want anything done, you go through us, right? No more calls to anyone else that can’t do the job. Capiche?
Kaminski: Ahem. Don’t mean to interrupt any local issues, but who owns the ship?
Seeless: (Angry and mean) Who’s askin’?
Kaushik: (Polite but firm) We are.
Seeless: Not your business.
Kaminski: Yes, it is. We’ll be using the building across the street. We wanted to find out who’s blocking our spectacular view of the… view.
Seeless: (Sneering) We’ll talk to you when we are finished with him.
Kaushik: Like I said, I just want to know about the ship. Then we’ll be on our way.
Helton: I’m the owner, and they-
Seeless: SHUDDAP!
Helton: Oh, I’m wishin’ Harbin was here.
Kaminski: (Sharply) WHO did you say?
Seeless: SHUT IT!
Helton: Harbin Reel? Ninety-five kilos of lethal bad-assery?
Seeless: I SAID SHUT! IT!
Kaushik: How do you know him?
Helton: Saw some action together.
Seeless looks like he’s about to have an aneurysm from being ignored. The enforcers are looking alternately confused, uncertain, angry, and mean. This is not a situation they are used to.
The CPL and SGT exchange a glance, and simultaneously, rapidly, and with practiced grace unsling their rifles and chamber a round, going to low ready while spreading out a bit and gaining some distance.
Kaushik: PLEASE DISEMBARK IMMEDIATELY! ANY LEGITIMATE LEGAL DISPUTES WILL BE DEALT WITH IN THE PRESENCE OF UNIFORMED LAW ENFORCEMENT AND WITH PROPER PAPERWORK PRESENTED FRONT AND CENTER! FAILURE TO COMPLY WILL BE MESSY! MOVE IT!
The hired muscle moves awkwardly, not used to confronting rifles carried by professionals in armor. Seeless moves a bit more slowly, used to being the one who is scary and in charge.
Seeless: You haven’t heard the last of this, Mr. Rich Guy. Not by a long shot.
Helton: I wouldn’t be talking about long shots when someone has a rifle on you. It works out badly sometimes.
Seeless: I’ve got friends in high places!
Kaminski: (Dangerously) We are the friends in low places. Now MOVE IT!
The three of them watch the thugs head for their vehicle.
Helton regards the two armored soldiers on his doorstep. They look at him after the last of Seymore’s men depart and the van roars away. The soldiers relax a bit.
Helton: Thanks for some very timely support.
Kaminski: No problem. Top would’a killed us if he knew we let someone he served with get hurt and didn’t do anything.
Helton: I didn’t say we served together, I just said I was in some action with him.
Kaushik: (Curious) But he’s been in uniform since forever, so how…?
FADE TO BLACK
Possibilities
FADE IN
EXT - DAY - Cab of a light truck
Chief Stenson is driving, wearing coveralls. Lag is in the passenger seat in camo uniform.
Stenson: They said I had to check the thing out. And that you had to meet the owner. They were kind of mysterious about it. But then, it’s not the first thing about Kaminski that is a little murky…
