1. MODEL SHOT B&W
A futuristic city at dusk. Fires are burning between the buildings and there are several explosions.
2. EXT. OUTER WALL (DAY) B&W
There is a lot of smoke and the sounds of burning. A column of TROOPERS in familiar Charnel House armor are approaching the foot of a wall. The Leader, ARVNEX, has his visor raised to reveal that he is an older man with graying hair. He indicates to the others with his rifle.
ARVNEX
Keep down. You have your orders. Head out into sector seven, and attack. Take no prisoners, execute all targets. Return to the cruiser once all insurgents have been terminated.
A MAN emerges from the smoke slowly, holding a gun. He spots the troopers and hisses in surprise. Arvnex spins and fires. The man ducks and returns fire. The beam bounces harmlessly off Arvnex’s armor. The other troopers open fire. The man screams as he is shot three times in the chest and collapses flailing. One of the troopers crosses to the corpse and kicks it. There is a cruel laugh from the helmet, the voice of KISTON.
KISTON
Twelve down and we haven’t even set the charges yet.
TROOPER
Why bother? The city’s alight, the base is already on fire.
ARVNEX
Our mission is clear. Move out. The other phalanx will seal off the city.
The troopers start to split up and head off through the smoke. Several of them start opening fire and various VICTIMS – human and alien collapse, most unarmed. Several large explosions go off in the distance.
KISTON
With the buildings sealed up, those inside will burn.
TROOPER
Will their deaths be noted?
KISTON
Of course. They are all insurgents. Officially. Even the loyal citizens.
TROOPER
And the ones who try to get off planet?
KISTON
The cruiser will shoot them down.
Another ALIEN lurches out of the shadows and fires at the trio. Kiston casually shoots it down, blood spurting from the wound on its chest. It struggles to raise its own weapon, but the other trooper shoots it dead.
TROOPER
They really will fight to the death.
KISTON
I doubt we’ll take any alive.
TROOPER
Why would we want to take any alive?
He fires at the corpse once more. They turn and move off. The last trooper stays, looking at the dead alien. He lifts his visor. It is LYTTON. There is a low coughing sound from a WOUNDED MAN lying sprawled in a doorway. He sobs. Lytton turns to look at him, then shrugs, shoots him dead and heads off after the others. A shrill beeping fills the air, getting louder and louder.
3. INT. CYBER SHIP (DAY)
The lights are dim but there are lights flashing in time with the beeping. Lytton is heaped in a corner, having made a bed out of some bubbled packing material. He has a stubbly beard. His eyes crack open and he leaps to his feet, instantly wide awake and alert. He crosses to the consoles and checks the displays. A screen illuminates showing a dusty brown world on the scanner. Lytton presses a control. The screen shows a grounded space station against a rather barren landscape. Lytton’s reaction does not change.
PA
Celleste Traffic Control contacting unidentified craft. Respond please.
Lytton presses a control.
LYTTON
Celleste Control this is civilian transporter Star Wanderer. I request permission to land, my ship is suffering from meteorite damage and needs spare parts.
PA
Permission granted. Align vectors to signal Beta Five Two One Gamma.
LYTTON
Aligning.
PA
Enjoy your stay at Celleste and please visit the Casino. Traffic Control out.
Lytton adjusts the system controls in front of him. The background whir builds up.
LYTTON
Civilization. At last.
4. MODEL SHOT
The stolen Cybership swoops down towards the planet.
(FINISH OPENING CREDITS)
(BID TIME RETURN)
(EPISODE ONE: IN THE BEGINNING...)
1. MODEL SHOT
We see the grounded space station which has been partially converted into a city. There is the distant sound of music and lights behind the windows. A jolly atmosphere.
2. INT. THE CASINO (DAY)
The chamber is subdivided into hexagonal cells the same pattern as is repeated throughout the space craft. There are lots of bright lights and neon signs with alien hieroglyphics. The major colours are bright yellow and purple. There are long tables with various strange gambling games on it – a giant version of chess with silver cylindrical places; a multi-story version of a trilogic game; a circular table decked out like a monopoly board. The PATRONS are of various alien species, including Terileptils and other stock aliens. Exotic alien potplants and cactii stand in corners, with the occasional statuette. Beside most of these linger a CLOAKED FIGURE no one pays any attention to.
We pan across to see PERI is standing at one such gambling table, holding a mass of hexagonal dice-like chips that stuck up together. She’s enjoying herself immensely and wearing a fancy dress, with her hair up. A small crowd is gathered around her.
PERI
I say... four priestesses!
The CROUPIER moves several of the cylinders to different parts of the table, which then illuminates randomly. The four cylinders are all illuminated, but none of the others are.
CROUPIER
Four priestesses down, no bids until new game.
He starts rearranging the cylinders. The two other patrons give Peri grudging looks while the small crowd cheers. Peri punches the air happily as the croupier collects more chips and neatly arranges them in front of her.
PERI
Oh yeah! Peri Brown breaks the bank at Celleste Casino!
A flamboyantly dressed but beautiful woman with long blonde hair approaches. This is NARALEEN, and holding a yard of alcohol. She seems another excited gambeler, dripping with emeralds.
NARALEEN
How do you do it?
PERI
Oh, that’d be telling!
NARALEEN
Go on! It’s uncanny!
PERI
I’m just riding my luck and enjoying my vacation. It’s not Los Vegas, but it’ll do!
CROUPIER
New game!
PERI
You here on your own then?
PERI
Oh, no, my friend’s here too. He’s just unwinding in the... White Heart, I think it was? He just needs some time to relax, but I’m here to party! Three empresses, please!
The others give their bids. Naraleen shakes her head in disbelief.
NARALEEN
I can’t believe anyone would willingly miss THIS display!
PERI
Oh, my friend’s very shy. He likes to blend into the background. This place is way to garish for him.
3. INT. BAR (DAY)
The Doctor, eyes wild and gesturing dramatically while holding a mostly-empty glass, is booming with the passion of an Olde Testament Profit. As we pull out we see he is standing on the bar, shouting at the rest of the establishment. It’s a fairly quiet room of undesirable-looking patrons. There are lots of empty flasks lying around the place, a few wilted pot plants and ambient music being piped from the smoky booths. Behind the bar is an ALPHA CENTAURIAN with two of its arms folded as it blinks dispassionately. Other patrons are half-paying attention to the screaming Time Lord.
DOCTOR
“The whole island, you know, was one ENORMOUS hotel, complex beyond explaining! And on the other side, there were... miles of floating hotels! And huge floating stages to which the flying machines came. And THEY called it a pleasure city!” A Dream of Armageddon, Herbert George Wells, 1901, Earth!
ALPHA CENTAURI
Very nice, Doctor. But you’re not getting any more Voxnic until you pay up.
The Doctor blows out his cheeks and agilely jumps off the table onto the stool, then from the stool to the floor, then falls onto the stool.
DOCTOR
So I’m reduced to this, am I? Nine centuries and this is all I’ve got to show for it – an unappreciated sartorial sense, a broken time machine and a dangerously high blood alcohol level. What’s the reckoning, then?
ALPHA CENTAURI
Twelve credits twenty.
The Doctor boggles.
DOCTOR
That’s... daylight robbery!
ALPHA CENTAURI
You DID buy everyone a round. Twice.
DOCTOR
Fine. Live for the moment, take your pleasure where you can. We’re all dust and we’ll all be dust again...
The Doctor fumbles in his pocket and takes out a snow globe.
DOCTOR
Youth... YOUTH... is a BLUNDER!
He stares at it as if trying to understand it, shakes it and frowns at the snow, and drops the globe on the table.
DOCTOR
Manhood a STRUGGLE!
He pulls out a paperback, two fir cones, an alarm clock, a candy bar and a teddy bear. He stares at the pile of junk.
DOCTOR
OLD AGE A REGRET!
He opens the book and takes out some currency.
DOCTOR
Take my advice, end it all on your eight hundredth birthday. Saves so much trouble in the long run. Another round please.
He hands the currency to the barman. Enthusiasm bleeds out of him.
DOCTOR
Anything for a quiet life.
4. EXT. OUTER EDGE (DAY)
A dingy, run-down area on the outskirts of the city. Bright sunshine comes from several distant open hatches leading out to the desert outside. Streamers flap in the breeze and some garbage blows past the pavement. A tough-looking woman in her fifties, LYNELLA, walks down the alley. Three cloaked figures stand at points on the alleyway, not even hiding. LYNELLA passes them, clearly seeing them with disapproval. They make no move as she hurries towards the end of the alleyway. A moment after she is gone, they turn in unison and quietly follow her.
5. MODEL SHOT
We see the docking bay in all its glory. There are half a dozen space craft of different design on circular landing pads – on one is Lytton’s second-hand Cybership. The left half of the bay is open to the outside world, the right half a warehouse with various gantries and walkways.
6. EXT. DOCKING BAY (DAY)
Lynella is running along one of the walkways and then down some steps. Further behind her, three of the cloaked figures follow unhuriedly. Lynella casts a worried look over her shoulder as she increases her speed. She reaches ground level. There is a cloaked figure waiting by the steps. She starts. The figure makes no move towards her. She turns and sprints off across the bay. The hooded head turns to watch her.
The other three descend the steps and march off with more speed after Lynella. The fourth figure silently joins them as they head after her. Lynella is hurrying up a ramp connecting the lower body of a space craft to the floor. She turns to see the cloaked figures are silently striding towards her. Lynella enters and presses a control on the wall beside the door. The hatch closes and the ramp retracts.
It finishes just as the cloaked figures arrive. They stay where they are, staring up at the craft in silence. In unison, they draw identical stiletto blades.
7. INT. COCKPIT (DAY)
A sparsely furnished hemispherical room with three pilot seats with steering columns and monitor screens lining the walls between the view ports. A Terileptil HYRANTO in an Elizabethan ruff and finery, is adjusting some controls. He whirls as Lynella runs in.
HYRANTO
What’s wrong?
LYNELLA
Are all the main hatches locked?
HYRANTO
If you closed the one after you, yes. Lynella, what...
LYNELLA
Let’s just leave, OK?
HYRANTO
We can’t leave without Gamsool. What’s wrong?
LYNELLA
Those freaks outside.
HYRANTO
Freaks? Oh, the Rocinante?
LYNELLA
Yes! They’ve been following me all day!
HYRANTO
Have they? Which ones?
LYNELLA
How should I know, Hyranto? They all look the same, stupid robes and hoods...
She sits down in a seat and checks over the controls.
HYRANTO
They’re harmless. They’re just here for the Festival.
LYNELLA
They arrived months early.
HYRANTO
And they haven’t been doing anything except skulking in the shadows. Probably embarrassed about getting here early. Why start now, just before the Festival?
LYNELLA
I don’t know. But three of them followed me here.
HYRANTO
They were just going in the same direction.
LYNELLA
Another one was waiting for me when I got there!
HYRANTO
That was probably the one they were looking for. You really ought to learn to relax, Lynella. Now, where’s Gamsool?
LYNELLA
Oh, he’s still up drowning the last of his credit.
HYRANTO
I thought he lost it all at the casino?
LYNELLA
All except the emergency Voxnic money.
HYRANTO
We better wait for him. He’s probably doing another deal before he comes back.
LYNELLA
Like any sane humanoid is going to buy that heap of scrap ironmongery...
HYRANTO
There’s always a queer customer.
A distant metal clang. The rending of metal. The pilots exchange looks. The clangs repeat.
HYRANTO
That’s the outer hatch...
LYNELLA
The Rocinante! They’re...
HYRANTO
Nonsense. You talk to traffic control. I’ll deal with this.
He snatches up a Terileptil blaster and jogs out. Lynella watches him go.
LYNELLA
Hyranto! Be careful! Hyranto!
She turns and taps at a terminal. A screen lights up flickering.
LYNELLA
This is private freighter Sidayzhet HG5 to Celleste Traffic Control – request scan of outer hull integrity and docking bay please. Traffic Control? Traffic Control this is Sidayzhet HG5. Respond. Hello? Is anyone there?
A distorted, reverberating and sillibant whisper is heard.
FIGURE 1 (VO)
Eclipse...
LYNELLA
What?
FIGURE 1 (VO)
The Eclipse... of Time...
She frowns and taps a control. The screen shows another hooded figure, incongruous in front of the displays and read outs of traffic control.
FIGURE 1 (DIST)
Eclipse. The Eclipse. The Eclipse of Time.
Swallowing, Lynella reaches out and shuts off the screen. Snatching up a futuristic dipstick, she turns and moves towards the exit. The voice is heard again.
FIGURE 1 (VO)
The Eclipse of Time is at hand and we shall all be freed!
Lynella whirls back. Sudden silence.
LYNELLA
Hyranto? Hyranto! Are you there?
Silence. She moves further and stops. There is blood splattered on the wall beside her. She looks at it in horror, covering her mouth.
LYNELLA
Oh, Hyranto...
Suddenly a cloaked figure steps out of the dark and grabs her from behind. She cries and struggles, dropping the dipstick. Her screams are muffled as the second figure steps in front of her and slashes out with its blade – the edges illuminate blue. The others stride past the grisly display and they enter the room. One sits at the console and starts changing control settings. The other crosses to Lynella’s console and re-connects the link to traffic control. Behind them, the other figures enter and start to demolish the chamber, wrenching open panels and ripping out cables, shutting panels down.
FIGURE 2
It is done. The Sidayzhet now belongs to us.
6. INT. TRAFFIC CONTROL (DAY)
One wall is a window beyond which is the docking bay. A bank of computers is placed before it, and the hooded figure stands before a console showing the interior of the Sidayshet and the other cloaked figures.
FIGURE 2 (DIST)
The Eclipse of Time is at hand.
FIGURE 1
And we shall all be freed.
We pan across to show another cloaked figure standing over a heap of corpses – those who once ran the traffic control. Bloody wounds show they were all stabbed.
7. INT. THE CASINO (DAY)
Peri looks horrified as the crowd behind her moan unhappily.
PERI
Oh no, not here, not now!!
CROUPIER
I am sorry madam. But house wins. No bids until new game.
The croupier starts rearranging the cylinders. None of them are illuminated. Another attendant takes all of Peri’s chips. The other two patrons laugh cruelly at Peri. She sneers at them. The crowd is dispersing.
NARALEEN
Perhaps it was unwise to put all your money on the gladiator.
PERI
It would have got me pay dirt.
NARALEEN
If it had succeeded. But it didn’t.
Peri sighs and drains her glass of water.
PERI
Ah well. It’s only money.
NARALEEN
Life is but a game.
PERI
Pretty tough one, but a game none the less.
NARALEEN
Well said, my dear. You are indeed a noble lady.
Naraleen speaks in a louder voice, turning to address the other patrons, in particular the former member of the crowd. All turn to listen to her, but not all with friendly respect on their faces.
NARALEEN
This woman understands the rules of life – not only in Celleste but in the rest of the known galaxy! I suggest, my treasured clientelle, you watch her closely.
PERI
Great. I never get enough of that.
NARALEEN
She will undoubtedly go far in this humble pleasure dome.
Naraleen turns to one of the WAITRESSES who walk back and forth with drinks.
NARALEEN
A drink, please for my special friend.
PERI
Oh, don’t put yourself out...
NARALEEN
But I insist. I am always generous to such esteemed acquaintances as yourself.
PERI
I kinda just lost all my spending money.
NARALEEN
No matter, my darling, it’s all on the house.
PERI
Oh, cool.
She addresses the waitress.
PERI
Another glass of water, please.
NARALEEN
You don’t want anything stronger?
PERI
I have a feeling that my friend is probably drinking enough for the two of us.
NARALEEN
Over fond of the bottle, is he?
PERI
He’s uh just coming to terms with, er, a death in the family.
NARALEEN
I’m sure he would be having much more fun here.
Peri is given a drink.
PERI
Maybe. Maybe not. You never know your luck in a big city.
Naraleen gives a musical laugh and drapes her arm around Peri’s shoulders. Peri is slightly taken aback as she sips her drink.
NARALEEN
Well said, my beauty! Well said! Your arrival truly heralds the Festival of Light!
8. INT. BAR (DAY)
As before. The Doctor and the other patrons are drinking, one on side of him a Terileptil called Danstrop, on the other a brunette woman called RUXEl, wearing a cloak identical to the Rocinante wear. Although she does not have her hood on, making it less obvious. The Doctor acts as though he’s just heard Naraleen.
DOCTOR
Festival of what?!
DANSTROP
Festival of Light, Doc.
DOCTOR
Doctor! I did not spend two hundred evening classes in thermodynamic theostatistics to be called “Doc”! In fact, I did not spend two hundred evening classes in thermodynamic theostatistics AT ALL! Which is why I failed the course – but that is beside the point! DON’T CALL ME “DOC!”
DANSTROP
Sorry. Anyway, it starts tonight.
DOCTOR
What does?
DANSTROP
The Festival.
DOCTOR
What festival?
RUXEL
The Festival of Light.
The Doctor closes his eyes and nods.
DOCTOR
Oh, THAT! What is it then?
RUXEL
Twelve day excuse to get drunk.
The Doctor laughs.
DOCTOR
You need an excuse? Get on the wagon already!
DANSTROP
Oh, it’s all about propitiating gods during mid-winter so they bring back the sun and warmth.
DOCTOR
We’re in desert – it’s fiftty degrees centigrade outside!
DANSTROP
Thought that counts, Doctor.
RUXEL
Thought? Superstition, more like. And ignorance!
DOCTOR
Do you mind? Almost every culture has something along those lines!
RUXEL
Only primitive ones with secular religions!
DOCTOR
An opiate for the masses?
ALPHA CENTAURI
Coming up!
DANSTROP
Yeah, make that two, would you, Alpha?
As they chat to the barman, another cloaked figure enters. We can clearly see, however, the cloaked figure is Lytton and his cloak is not like the Rocinante. He sweeps past the bar, heading for a booth. As the Doctor is not wearing his colorful coat and facing the wrong way, neither registers the other’s presence. In a booth is GAMSOOL, a pale, balding figure with tentacle-like dreadlocks.He does not look up from a book he reads.
GAMSOOL
That’s seat taken no matter if you’re buying, selling, armed or the police.
LYTTON
The seat is taken by ME.
Gamsool looks up.
GAMSOOL
Ah. Gustave. You’re early.
LYTTON
That’s because the Sidayzhet is due to lift off in three hours.
GAMSOOL
I would have got you the merchandise first.
LYTTON
Have you got it for me now?
GAMSOOL
Maybe.
LYTTON
Maybe?
GAMSOOL
I might forget where it is... if I can’t afford to remember it.
LYTTON
Is that your incredibly subtle attempts to extort more money out me?
GAMSOOL
Exortion?! It’s called payment for purchased goods, Gustave!
LYTTON
I have already paid you three hundred chips for it.
GAMSOOL
It’s worth more than that.
LYTTON
Is it worth your life?
Lytton opens his cloak to show he is cradling a Cyberman rifle in his arms. He aims it at Gamsool who folds his arm, clearly taking the threat easily.
GAMSOOL
Two thousand was my initial estimate. It stays there and at that, you’d get it cheap.
LYTTON
I’d only get it cheap if it were free, Gamsool.
GAMSOOL
It’s my property, I can charge whatever I like.
LYTTON
Of course. But don’t expect me to pay. Not while I’M the one with the gun.
GAMSOOL
Four hundred. Final offer.
LYTTON
No deal.
Lytton presses the barrel of the Cybergun into Gamsool’s throat.
GAMSOOL
All right, pay for the drinks and you can have it?
LYTTON
How about I let you keep your heart beating and you give it to me right now?
GAMSOOL
I can’t. It’s in the Sidayzhet cargo hold.
LYTTON
I know.
GAMSOOL
I can get you in there.
LYTTON
And I can let you live.
GAMSOOL
I’ll be being very generous.
LYTTON
And I might not. It depends whether its more trouble taking the merchandise by force than restraining myself from ventilating your skull. What do you say, Gamsool?
A beat. Gamsool is sweating. He shrugs.
GAMSOOL
You’re sure you can’t get the tab?
LYTTON
Quite sure.
GAMSOOL
Oh well. Let’s take a stroll down to the docking bay then, eh? Gustave? My friend?
Lytton jabs the barrel hard into Gamsool’s throat, forcing him to bang his head against the wall.
LYTTON
Why not, “my friend”?
He stands, drawing his cloak around him. Gamsool rubs his head.
LYTTON
Now move.
GAMSOOL
This city used to be a lot nicer before Naraleen’s trade laws came into play.
LYTTON
I’ve heard it said. Move.
- to be continued...
No comments:
Post a Comment