by Rolf Nelson
CUT TO
INT - DAY - Tajemnica Bridge
Helton, Quiritis, Allonia, Bipasha, and Compliance Monitor are at stations.
Quiritis: Ah, breaking off. Knew it! Taj has thermal mass and trans-dimensional heat-dump capacity those tiny ships can only dream of.
Allonia: Bet they’ll be embarrassed when they get back that they couldn’t catch a little old lander.
Helton: Peak hull temp of 1700 isn’t a worry?
Quiritis: Not yet.
Helton: You said caltrops are OK, right? Thrown, dropped, placed by hand, whatever?
CM: Yes, yes, they’re fine! Oh, GOD, why did I take this job?
Bipasha: (Helpfully) Death wish?
Helton: (Into mic) OK, Kwon. Get ready!
Quiritis looks at the control panel, flips a switch.
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INT - DAWN - Aft cargo bay ramp
The ramp is stacked all around the outside edge with simple light-weight crates with handles facing in, quick-release tie-downs securing them. Running through the handles are ropes going up to a clip line above. Kwon stands near the stacks of crates on the steeply angled ramp, behind him every square centimeter of deck has a soldier standing on it, helmet on, spear in hand, shield on arm, ready to offload directly into battle.
Helton: (OC from PA speakers) On final approach. We will be lowering the aft ramp in a moment to drop some presents, then we’ll be hitting. It’ll be a bit bumpy, but we have the accelacomps turned up to high. If you want to hang onto one of the deck straps to keep from getting jostled off your feet, now’s the time to grab ‘em.
The ramp lowers, nearly in line with the cargo deck, but only sky can be seen because of the descent angle. Suddenly the clouds and lighting angle shift as Tajemnica levels out. Kwon hurriedly pulls the quick-release straps on the tie-downs, and some soldiers move in to help him. Over the stacks of crates the ground can be seen fast approaching.
Quiritis: (OC, through PA speakers) NOW!
Kwon rapidly shoves the crates over the edge, assisted by the closest soldiers.
CUT TO
EXT - DAWN - Airspace trailing behind Tajemnica
Tajemnica is aiming down at a steep angle, diving toward the field. Landing pads are fully retracted, turret barrels aiming aft and depressed as close to the hull as possible. The ramp is down, and not much but stacked crates can be seen inside. The planned field of battle is not far below. It’s a wide, mostly flat plain with slightly rolling hills to the north, cropland and a river to the south, nearly bare except for an enormous throng of people, fanatical followers of the self-styled Mahdi. Tajemnica pulls up hard, nearly level. The crates start being shoved over, and after falling a short distance the line attached to the handles jerks hard. The crates fly apart, and their load of caltrops break free and scatter widely, falling through the air at high speed. A wide swath of them scatters along the ground, and across the fanatics gathered not far below, as they stand watching the ship roaring down onto the battlefield.
Some of the people on the field are armed and armored, standing in something like proper formations. Others are nothing but large mobs with a mix of folks carrying scattered armor and weapons. Many look like normal civilians, some are extended family gatherings. Some large groups number in the thousands, and there are many tiny clusters, along with everything in between. Down into them, hitting fast and hard, Tajemnica comes to ground, plowing a shallow, stained strip across a long stretch of dirt and people. She hits and slews sideways, leaving a fifty meter wide flattened area with a berm thrown up on each end which buries some who just missed getting flattened. She slides to a halt just beyond the far edge of the gathered horde. Both ramps drop with a WHOOMPing clang, and the army aboard starts to march off rapidly in good order.
The camera angle rises rapidly, showing an aerial view from high overhead. Through the middle of the people-covered plain is the wide scar left by Tajemnica’s crashing through, starting with the less scarred but still obvious area with a number of people stretched out on the ground, injured or dead, from the falling iron caltrops. From each end of Tajemnica, orderly ranks of armored solders are streaming out, rapidly forming an expanding shield wall around the ramps, pushing outward in ranks five deep as men flow out of the ship. The line swells at each end, and the two line-ends on the port side, which face the field of battle, start to move along the side of the ship to link up. The masses on the plain surge slowly toward them, a tide of humanity seeking to sweep all before it.
Crashing
CUT TO
INT - DAY - Tajemnica bridge
The crew and Compliance Monitor are arguing. In the background, the sounds of many armored men moving, marching out, can be clearly heard.
CM: YOU can’t DO that! It’s an OUTRAGE!
Helton: You said we could.
CM: I did NOT!
Helton: YOU said caltrops were fine, thrown or dropped!
CM: I meant dropped by hand!
Bipasha: Should have said that. And they were stacked and pushed over the edge by hand.
CM: And you landed where we said you couldn’t!
Quiritis: No. We crashed.
CM: You LANDED!
Quiritis: The impact damaged two turrets. There are a couple of thousand formerly human bodies that are now snarg.
CM: But you did that DELIBERATELY!
On a screen a dictionary definition of “crash” appears in big, bold text. Helton points to it.
Helton: Your definition of crash is any landing that damages the ship or causes injury or material damage to the landing site. Intent is not addressed in any way.
Ship AI: (Armored soldier avatar on the screen) We crashed, bub. Believe it an’ deal.
CM: (Spluttering) But, you, I mean, you didn’t, you can’t-
Allonia: Your chief said we couldn’t land, forcing us to crash to meet time and location details in the challenge. It’s your fault. Not ours. We’re just playing the rules you laid out. Don’t like it? Change the rules for the next battle, and don’t pick sides.
The CM’s face is red, veins bulge and pulse, and he is angry, frustrated, and at a loss for words dealing with the situation he sees unfolding. Helton looks closely at him.
Helton: You sure you don’t have a heart condition?
The CM pauses to look at him furiously, then his expression changes to suspicion.
Helton: You’re just arguing small stuff. The really exciting part hasn’t happened yet.
The CM looks at him, growing disbelief on his face.
Bipasha: (Eyeing screens) Gathering directly above, atmo to twenty thousand klicks, pretty much as expected. All three fleets, independents, nearly a thousand interceptors. Capped in tight.
Quiritis: Looks like some of them are exchanging more than words.
Helton: (To CM, with a grin) Now then, how do you think we are going to fight past that blockade? Considering you said you’re staying aboard, you have a rather personal interest. Or would you rather walk off, take your chances on the ground?
Helton glances at a count-down timer on a screen nearby, points it out to the CM. 13:18:29
Helton: Pop quiz in thirteen hours.
The CM shakes head, not quite able to get his brain around these developments and what it sounds like is going to happen.
Quiritis: Incoming! One missile track, cruiser launched, I think. Not sure which one, lots of jamming, and they are pretty close together.
Helton: ETA?
Bipasha: Ah… A little under two minutes.
Helton: Any read on type?
Ship AI: Nothing yet.
Helton: Take it out at 5k with railguns.
CM: You CAN’T use guns here!
Helton: We are almost unloaded, then we are no longer part of the agreement, and can defend ourselves from a non-tech-level attack without any problem, right?
CM: Uh, I’m not sure.
Helton: Isn’t it your job to be sure about these things?
CM: This is all ver
y irregular!
Allonia: Welcome to our world.
CM: I need to contact the Senior Monitor.
Allonia: Not with all the jamming. Nothing getting through unless written on a bullet.
Bipasha: But then they might misunderstand.
Helton: Depends on the message. Only one missile?
Bipasha: …Yes. Small one. Can’t do much. Hoping to provoke a violation, maybe?
Helton: Unless… it’s a nuke.
He looks at the CM.
Helton: We need a definite answer, now.
CM: (Nervously) Can… can you plot the exact trajectory?
Bipasha works the controls, and a diagram of the field pops up onto a screen showing placement of ship, troops, and the local “army” with an arcing line down slightly to their side of the middle of the mass of people.
Helton: Optimal altitude for a typical nuke airburst?
A dot appears above the plain.
Ship AI: (OC) My armor will protect you at that range, unless it is the largest known warhead in their inventory and the blast is lower. Everyone on the field will die, however.
The CM has fear written on his face.
Helton: Counter-fire to take it out one klick above that point. Concur as legal?
The CM nods his head. On the diagram they watch as it descends on the line plotted, and the line shifts slightly as a better fix is determined. It arrives near the shoot point, then disappears in a red splotch.
Ship AI: (OC) EMP bomb.
Helton: Oh, shit.
FADE TO BLACK
Collision
FADE IN
EXT - DAWN - Battlefield next to Tajemnica’s ramp
The rising sun is low in the sky, casting long shadows towards the mob, fuzzy from the thick atmosphere and hazy clouds. Uniformly well-armored men are streaming down the ramp and joining the expanding line of troops, new troops flowing to the starboard side and extending the line, while the line expands and shuffles slowly leftward. A platoon coming down the ramp splits off from the line heading for the shield wall and joins another in a small reserve detachment inside the ring of soldiers. All the soldiers carry spears. Some are long two-handed pikes, carried by soldiers with smaller shields slung on their backs, so they can stand three or four ranks back and still reach beyond the shield wall. All have swords, though not all are exactly the same, and they all have fanny packs with a couple of metal water flasks, energy bars, and first-aid kits. Every square inch is armored with plates or fine chain mail. They are trotting, almost gliding in their ranks, getting into position quickly and without orders being shouted. They obviously know how this maneuver is supposed to happen.
The camera view slowly rises and pans across the men in the shield wall from above. The air is filled with a swarm of small hover drones with cameras watching the action unfold. Beyond the shield wall flows a sea of humanity, with low hills a few kilometers in the distance behind them. The scar left by Tajemnica’s crash landing stretches away into the distance, and people are starting to walk out onto it, seeing the many crushed bodies smeared into the dirt by her “landing.” Some nearby people look at the disciplined and well-equipped army assembling before their eyes and start to run away, but others, further away and without such a good view, push toward Tajemnica, her angular bulk easily visible on the plain. The masses fleeing start to collide with those charging, creating a crush that slowly resolves, by sheer weight of numbers, into a swarming attack against the shield wall, now nearly fully formed, pushed out a fair ways from Tajemnica’s side. Without warning there is a brilliant flash high overhead. All the hover drones seize up and drop to the ground like so many mechanical raindrops. Everyone glances skyward, then returns to the mortal danger close at hand.
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INT - DAY - News media ship video-feed room
A large room filled with screens, a dozen people watching at least four screens each. On the displays are a multitude of views of the battlefield action far below. Some people look like they are about to get sick, others have gleeful expressions.
Reporter1: (Excited) I can hardly wait! This is going to be so epic!
Reporter2: (Revolted) You are a sick man. Positively mental.
Reporter1: This video will make our careers! How can you not like it?
Suddenly all the images of war freeze on the screen, then go blank with “No Feed” errors. A collective gasp/groan/expostulation rises, and expressions turn to wide-eyed panic.
Reporter3: The HELL?!
Reporter4: TECHNICAL! GET IT BACK NOW!
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INT - DAY - Fleet Carrier bridge
A large and crowded room, also containing many screens, with the Admiral and Chief Compliance Monitor in the center. They watch the action far below, both on video feeds from the low-flying hover-cams and from many space-borne telescopes based in the fleet.
Admiral: Who fired it?
Sensor tech1: Narrowed it to one of five ships. Four of ‘em were exchanging a few rounds in some local pissing match they brought along. Almost all the visible surveillance assets were aimed down, and jamming still has most other frequencies useless.
Admiral: Then get a bunch of Mark One eyeballs in suits outside or at windows with binoculars, and track all the cruisers the old fashioned way. Now! I want constant observation on EVERYTHING!
Sensor Tech2: Found one decent read. Doesn’t match any conventional missile signatures.
The Admiral and the CCM glance at each other.
All the low-level camera feeds go blank, and the orbital view screens display a large flash, then continue as before. The CCM inhales sharply.
Sensor Tech2: EMP, not a nuke!
Admiral: (Intensely) Find out who launched it, and if you can only narrow it down to one of two, shoot them both. That was the last thing this clusterfuck needs.
CUT TO
INT - DAY - Tajemnica Bridge
The partially armored woman avatar appears onscreen.
Ship AI: Silly little EM pulse like that can’t hurt me a bit. Knocked out all other local electronics, though. Only eyes on the ground now are ours.
Helton: Allonia, show the CM topside for a visual check.
CM: What? You want me to go OUTSIDE?
Helton: Up on top. They can’t get you there. Just to get a quick lay of the land, see if things look like they are suddenly going nonlinear in a violation sort of way, and we need to break out the canister rounds-
CM: (Aghast) You have anti-personnel weapons aboard!?
Helton: Damn right. Got every kind of weapon you can imagine, and then some. But if they are not in violation, we don’t shoot. Not really part of the fight. They might have planned this. Until we know-
Bipasha: I think some of the ships up above are shooting at each other. Quite a commotion all of a sudden. Jamming is a lot more aggressive, too.
Ship AI: Includes lasers blinding optics, I think.
CM: Why me? WHY?
Allonia: (Glaring) What are you whining about? You don’t have family out there. Or do you only care about your own skin?
The CM looks down embarrassed, then stands up and walks out. Allonia walks after him.
Bipasha: Now what?
Helton: Clean the ship, get ready for pickup and lift. Then, wait. Keep an eye on things, Quiri. Let us know if something weirder than usual comes up.
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EXT - DAWN - Looking across the plain between the two armies
The fanatic horde, some with weapons, many with little more than a knife or homemade spear, form a ragged line on the left, the front of the line being shoved forward by those behind. On the right, the metal wall of shields and armor, with ranks of spears aimed up like a field of deadly grass, stands solid in nearly perfect formation, now fully away from Tajemnica’s side, gleaming in the dawn light. The uneven army of the left surges forward in fits and bursts, closing the distance between them. There is a sharp bugle call and the shield wall surges forward at a trot, spears dropping into position
ahead of the slightly overlapping shields with a crash. The lines collide and the rabble is overrun, crushed, gleaming spear-points flickering out and back, dropping scores in seconds. Many of the leading unarmored people try to flee, and run into the surging mob pushing toward the unbelievers. The Plataean army plows slowly forward, leaving a layer of bodies behind them. It seems to march implacably, unstoppable, but the mass of humanity it faces is vast. A sharp bugle call, and the line falls back in good order. Another bugle call, and they turn and run to the rear. The herd takes a moment to realize what’s happening, then they surge forward over the heaps of bodies left behind by the Plataean army. They are just starting to thin out and run when the shield wall stops, and all the soldiers turn in place and reverse direction, charging, spears leveled, right back toward the oncoming swarm. The thinned out leading edge of the mob, standing amid the gore and bodies of the first contact, freaks out, and gets run over, adding another layer to the carpet of bodies as the real army grinds forward.
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INT - DAY - Tajemnica cargo deck
The ramp rises, closes up. Helton, Bipasha, Kwon, Sar, and the kids look about the now deserted deck. It’s littered with hundreds of plastic bottles, now urine filled, and a lot of other small last second detritus the departing army dropped as it marched off. None look happy, Bipasha looks particularly worried.
Helton: Now, the hard part.
Bipasha: I wish we could do more for them.
Sar: We’ve done our part, dear; we got them here in the best possible shape. Now they do theirs. And we make sure it’s a welcome sight they come back to for the return trip. And they will be coming back.
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EXT - DAWN - Battlefield, amid the mob
A huge crowd of fanatics, like Mad Max with better clothes. Amid the shouting and noise comes a fast-approaching rhythmic jingling, the clattering thump of armored men marching. The crowd parts and a wide column of soldiers march by. They have serviceable greaves, tassets, vambraces, shields, body armor, helms, and proper weapons, and clearly they have training and discipline. They shove the mob aside with their shields if it doesn’t move out of the way on its own. Under fancy crests their open-faced helms show well-fed faces, many different colors and ethnicities, all with goatee and mustache. The elite of the self-styled Mahdi’s army.
