The Stars Came Back (8 page)

Harbin stands next to it, one half of the disassembled scissors ready to stab or slice. The door opens, sunlight blasting into the relatively dark interior of the building. One guy walks in followed closely by two more, who are arguing. They all wear ill-maintained guard uniforms, and can’t see Harbin in the dark shadow beside the door.

Guard1:
-So I tell the guy “that’s bullshit,” and-

Guard2:
The hell you said that-

Guard3: URK!?

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 hurrie
s 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

F
ADE IN

INT - DAY - W
arehouse 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
.

Harbi
n: (Nods) Still need more flier info from our unhelpful friends, though… You might want to plug your ears.

Helton looks at him uncertain
ly.

Helton: I though
t 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 p
ositions 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

T
heir 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

L
arge 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 clear 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 t
he 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

H
arbin 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 H
arbin 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.