Conflicts of the last progenitors

Two Armadillo transports hover just above the crevasse; the five risen moons glint upon their studded-metal hulls. Each carrier casts five shadows into the crevasse below.

Purple coolant billows out of each craft’s open hatchway; hover-vans fly out into the moonlight and plunge into the crevasse below, VWIRRR.

INT. HOVER-VAN BODYBUILDER-2 - SAME

Isabel (the bruised Spaniard upon whom biological tests were run) guides her empty hover-van into the defile. She CLICKS

on her lights, illuminating the ridged wall obscured by shadows.

139.

ISABEL

(muttered)

Dondes la puerta?

(to the convosphere)

Armadillo-5. Where’s the door?

STANUEL (O.S.)

The coordinates say you’re right in front of it.

ISABEL

Then it’s shut. How does it open?

FLORIDA (O.S.)

From the inside.

ISABEL

Cojones.

Isabel drags her guidestick left; the craft’s lights sweep across the stone: there is no ingress. Other hover-vans hover on either side of her.

INT. THRUSTER BAY (INTERNAL) - SAME

The breached area of Elysabeth’s thruster bay is still; the rushing waters have frozen over. Trapped in the moonlit ice are two dented Handyman units; within each sphere are two PILOTS, a tableau of frigid asphyxiation.

EXT. OPTION-1 OCEAN - SAME

The crescentcraft looms like a continent over Elysabeth. The water below is completely frozen over.

Nine miles north of Elysabeth, the crescentcraft releases four cylinders. The lavender tubes SHATTER the ice and plunge into the frigid depths below.

An instant later, the four cylinders emerge. The first oblong is filled with exactly twenty-thousand squidfish, all arranged in perfect rows; the other cylinders are filled with long lancers, eels and TRIANGLERS, the same exact quantity and arranged in the same perfectly linear way.

The cylinders return to their respective nooks within the bottom of the craft; eighty-thousand open fish eyes stare out into the night.

140.

From Elysbeth’s right wrists pour Armadillo transports, one after another, VWIRR... They fly close to the frozen surface of the water, out of the shadow of the crescentcraft.

INT. MULTI-STAR COUNCIL ROOM - SAME

Graynose, Hector and three other Seniors remain in the room staring at the panorama. The diminutive leader rubs his face and looks at the eye in the ceiling.

GRAYNOSE

How capable are you- at this point-

of flying?

ELYSABETH’S VOICE

I am capable, albeit diminished.

INT. HOVER-VAN BODYBUILDER-2 - SAME

In the crevasse, Isabel jams the guidestick to her left; the stone wall of the defile whirls by like a drawn curtain.

ISABEL

We can’t get in.

INT. THE HUMAN PLATEAU - SAME

Lo-Cheun listens to his earplug with disbelief. He turns to face the parked hover-van within which Sven and Abacus sit, the cargo bay full and shut. The Senior TAPS his earplug.

LO-CHEUN

Bjorlsson.

INT. HOVER-VAN BICEP-9 - SAME

Sven and Abacus look at the convosphere and then through the windshield.

LO-CHEUN (O.S.)

The hover-vans are outside waiting

to pick us up and get us out of

here-- go open the goddamn door.

Now.

SVEN

Got it.

141.

ABACUS

Hate that guy.

Sven turns and looks through the cargo bay slat.

SVEN

Hold on back there.

The Swede faces forward and then presses his guidestick to the left; the settlement spins around him; he dials 125 LIFT; the ground falls away.

LO-CHEUN (O.S.)

Fly close to the ceiling so they

can’t drop stones on you.

SVEN

(to the people in the

rear)

Uh... really hold on.

Sven punches 150 LIFT; the craft rapidly ascends to the top of the cavern. He dials up the thruster; the craft lurches forward; several THUDS sound in the cargo hold.

FEMALE VOICE (O.S.)

Watch it asshole.

ABACUS

Don’t antagonize the driver-- he’s

maladjusted.

The cavern ceiling comes into view through the windshield; Sven CLICKS on the lights.

The bright blue beams stab into an aperture...and the faces of three watching sculptors: the backs of their eye sockets are filled with hundreds of black bristles. The illumined humanoids retreat up into the ceiling, away from the speeding vehicle and into darkness.

A dropped object BOOMS upon the hood of the craft.

Sven pulls the guidestick to the right, veering away from the orifice in the ceiling. A THUD sounds from the cargo bay.

Somebody YELPS.

MALE VOICE (O.S.)

I’m gonna wring your-

Abacus shuts the slat to the cargo bay.

142.

INT. CORKSCREWING PASSAGE - SAME

Bicep-9 careens up the spiraling passage, barreling around at a dangerous speed, VWIRR...

Attached to the roof of the vehicle, gripping the steel with its many talons, is a prostrated sculptor.

EXT. OPTION-1 OCEAN - SAME

A lone Dragonfly probe (Seraph-3) rises toward the bottom of the crescentcraft, VWIRR...

INT. DRAGONFLY SERAPH-3 - SAME

Florida, solemn and still, sits alone in the rising probe.

The monitors before him are filled with depictions of lavender ice.

FLORIDA

(quietly)

Ooh doe he you ee, ooh nay la nuh

he.

INT. HOVER-VAN BICEP-9 - SAME

Sven pilots Bicep-9 up the ramped hallway; the terminus dead-ends with stone. He dials down the thruster. Abacus plucks the convosphere.

ABACUS

Any idea how to open the door?

LO-CHEUN (O.S.)

Let me ask Jesca. Hold.