Conflicts of the last progenitors

the ones we initially developed for Elysabeth. A month before leaving

Earth, we kissed our children good-

night, put them to sleep and

cryogenically froze them. And then we buried the unit a mile

underground, in case there was

fallout.

Stanuel looks at the lenses of the polypillar.

STANUEL (CONT'D)

(to the camera)

My daughter’s name is Sara.

GRAYNOSE

That was 838 years ago.

80.

Stanuel returns his gaze to Graynose.

STANUEL

I know. We never thought we’d go

so far- or be gone so long.

GRAYNOSE

Your plan was- correct me if I’ve

concluded incorrectly- to hijack the Elysabeth? Kill us off and

then-

STANUEL

No, no, no! We never intended to

kill anybody. We assumed that when Elysabeth awakened us, we would

have a new homeworld, not

this...this Option-1. We would

leave you there and then...and

then...

(he CLEARS his throat)

And then go rescue the little

sleepers.

GRAYNOSE

And Elysabeth...would simply

comply?

STANUEL

We knew she wouldn’t. That’s why

we had to destroy some of her brain nexuses.

GRAYNOSE

You’d have lobotomized her, frozen

yourself and then returned for your buried children?

STANUEL

There’s a chance it could work.

With empathy, Graynose looks at the curly-haired man.

GRAYNOSE

No. There is no chance. There is

a greater chance that we stumble

upon aliens that happen to play

basketball than that those vaults

continue to function with no

maintenance after seventeen hundred years. I worked on the initial designs with Bjorlsson, I know.

81.

Graynose looks at Stanuel; tears flow freely down the confessor’s cheeks.

Lo-Cheun walks over, leans down and whispers into Graynose’s left ear. The little leader nods; the Bullet Senior stands upright.

GRAYNOSE (CONT'D)

Are all of the people we’ve

apprehended involved?

STANUEL

It was a chance to save our

childrens’ lives.

Stanuel wipes the tears from his red face.

STANUEL (CONT'D)

What are you going to do to us?

GRAYNOSE

Detain you for now. Long

term...we’ll see.

STANUEL

But we didn’t do anything-- most of us anyway.

The sympathy leaves Graynose’s eyes; he shakes his head, his face stern.

GRAYNOSE

Don’t delude yourself. Your

organization colluded in sabotage,

weapons smuggling, Fleischmord,

murder and intended to steal a ship more valuable than the country of

Japan in the 1980s. You are all

dangerous, especially those of you

still in denial.

Graynose stands up from the table. Lo-Cheun looks at the polypillar.

LO-CHEUN

Off.

The extruded lenses and convospheres are retracted inside the polypillar, VVVVVVV.

LO-CHEUN (CONT'D)

Should we give them over to

Elysabeth?

82.

GRAYNOSE

Let’s allow them time to accept

what’s happened-- they’re still

coming to terms with a very

difficult thing. Let’s see where

they are before we run deprivation

tares. Agreed?

The Seniors nod; one named HECTOR, a New Cuban of forty-five-years with spiral-shaped sideburns, YAWNS.

GRAYNOSE (CONT'D)

How’s Thakani?

FLORIDA

In a coma.

LO-CHEUN

Pardon me if I don’t pray for her.

The Chinese man’s remark elicits a few wary looks from the other Seniors.

GRAYNOSE

Call a multi-star council in five

hours. We all need some sleep.

FLORIDA

Can we open the bays? The

transport teams are still grounded.

Graynose looks deferentially to Lo-Cheun; the Chinese Senior addresses Florida.

LO-CHEUN

Check the transport roster for

parents. Don’t inform them what

happened until you have coilguns

pointed at their faces.

EXT. MOUNTAIN PERIMETER / NARROW CLEFT - MORNING

Kenneth and Abacus uncover the cylinder; Sven sits in Flypod Goblin-3, leaning toward the convosphere.

SVEN

Got it. We’ll boomerang in twenty.

BEEP-BEEP-BEEP. With his index finger, Sven pushes the convosphere back into the console, SNIK-SNIK-SNIK-SNIK-SNIK.

83.

SVEN (CONT'D)

Elysabeth’s open.

EXT. OPTION-1 ATMOSPHERE - MOMENTS LATER

Upon nine thrusters, Armadillo-2 rockets through the atmosphere (KRRRR...); its studded hull glows from the heat.

Pink coolant sprays from nostrils in the front of the craft: the fluid coats the heated exterior and turns into cotton-candy vapors, SSSSSSSS.

Not far behind the transport is Armadillo-4.

EXT. ORBIT OF OPTION-1 - MOMENTS LATER

The Armadillo transports thrust toward the flat stump at the terminus of Elysabeth’s right arm.

INT. DOCKING TUBE / ARMADILLOS AND HANDYMEN - MOMENTS LATER

Coiled hoses hang from the walls of the landing-area that traverses the length of Elysabeth’s right arm; the metal ingress is seven-hundred feet deep and is illuminated by twelve rows of yellow lights. Jutting from the inmost wall are the back halves of twelve Armadillo transports and five HANDYMEN (repair spheres).

Behind the two-foot thick glass of the control booth stand six DOCKSMEN (all Bluebranch), Florida and ten Bullets.

ELYSABETH’S VOICE

Depressurized zone.

The yellow lights in the docking tube change to red. The locking mechanisms in the far wall open with a CLUNK; the door slowly slides open, revealing the vista of outer space and interposed between Elysabeth and Option-1, two hovering Armadillo transports. They carefully ingress.