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Colonel? It's done: Air's good everywhere. Temperatures still need to rise, tho.
A smiling YOUNG takes off his breathing mask, breathes some small PUFFS in the chill air, ENTERS:
As they briefly clasp hands:
Sir, is everything alright?
Yes, for the time being. Now hurry.
T.J, get Park to the Infirmary and get ready, just in case.
As she passes him:
(worried?)
What's happening?
(happy)
Good things, Tamara. Very good things.
Huh, Dr. Rush, you're expected at the Gateroom. Take Brody with you. You'll be meeting some friends there.
(stops. Serious)
Very well. Where's Eli?
(playful?)
The Gateroom. He'll tell you everything.
Camille, I hope you slept well: We'll need you to help organize this... new situation we find ourselves into.
(rubs back of neck)
Stasis corridors first. Once everybody's where they need to be, go to the Gateroom. Oh, and send Varro to the Mess Hall: We got something his expert butcher's knife will appreciate.
There's about a 1/1 male/female ratio across the entire Novan workforce (all of which look younger than their real ages), + at least 1 attendant neo-kino every 3-4 techs.
Streams of people going to & fro.
Military crewmembers DIP into a CRATE, decorated with Novan military symbols & lettering, full of bullet PACKS.
Other people receive small FLASKS from a CRATE labeled
COFFEE
Warning:
stimulant, strong
ELI (minus most of his extra gear) is busy at the Console. MARSHALL's busy talking thru the Gate.
RUSH and CHLOE enter, BRODY after 'em.
A group of Novan WELDERS carrying (floating) hullmetal PLATES, metal beams (C, L, X, T, H) and tools, GATES IN, walks to the exit.
CHLOE (taking it all in) walks straight to Eli's Console. BRODY aims for the opened crates.
Eli! Where're we? What's all this? Who are those people?
RUSH sees Eli, goes to the power figure near the Gate. He's intercepted by a (youngish, FEMALE) Ear-mic TECH offering a miniaturized earbud-microphone SET (like the ones Marshall & the techs are using) from a BOX with a smallish LABEL:
KonNext Inc.
A Star Industries partner
(fast)
Hello. Have one of these. Speak your name to it, then your rank, group or specialty, and you'll be in the network. Grab a few extras to give to others. Go ahead, try it.
(The ear-mic SIGNALS activity by briefly flashing YELLOW/RED/GREEN/BLUE dots. Voices sound THIN yet undistorted.)
(checks her PAD)
Right: you're in. You can put it on, Dr... Hey, same name as...
(realization)
Wow! I... you may proceed, sir.
A WOMAN DOCTOR (early-40s?) elegant white labcoat on, briefcase in hand, exits the PUDDLE, followed by 2 younger ASSISTANTS carrying more (mid-size) crates.
(nonchalant?)
Actually, I feel like it should be me saying that.
(double-take)
Do I know who you are?
Interrupting:
And I'm Dr. Neuve Brooks. I must go to the Infirmary: I have patients to take care of.
(impressed?)
Of course.
(to military CREWMEMBERS standing watch)
Please, one of you escort Dr. Brooks to her post. And take some of those... gizmos with you for the people there.
So, Dr. Rush, where do we start? Power relays for the shields, parts for the FTL engines? I guess you'll direct some of the most important repairs.
MARSHALL (points to relevant crates)
They better. Chairman Wallace swears he built them to the database's exact specifications, and got them extensively tested for years before mass-producing 'em.
CHAIRMAN enters, carrying a few small boxes, LOGOS active for lighting.
As the others notice him:
(amused?)
Hi, Ironman. Now I know I'm dreaming.
Taking the earbud-mic he puts in her hands:
Handing 1 earbud-mic to each:
(fast)
Speak your name to it, then your rank, group or specialty, and you'll be in the network. Go ahead. We have little time.
How long were we sleeping!?
Not that long: We're still in the same galaxy!
(takes ear-mic. Wonders?)
You've grown up, kino-boy...
(smiles)
Of course, Dr. Park, but one of the best Novan surgeon-specialists needs to see you at the Infirmary. About your eyes: she'll fix them.
PARK, moved, covers her mouth with her hand. GREER (ear-mic on) rushes to her side.
Thank you, sir!
The 2 exit the Bridge. YOUNG arrives.
(checks wristPAD)
Hell, that was fast! Party's early!
CHLOE (cont. to ELI, both with ear-mics)
... they're all civilians!? There's not a uniform in sight.
MARSHALL keys his beeping wristPAD.
MARSHALL (to mic, it flashes a BLUE dot)
Chairman, I'm reading 2 bandits here!
ELI's blinking Console displays 2 fat RED ICONS spawning 10s of smallish RED DOTS.
With both ELI and CHLOE keying fast:
Everybody to stations! We got incoming! Repeat!
WRAY arrives with her brisk walk & slightly scowling "not a moment of peace here" face.
As T.J. tries to get up, she's gently stopped by:
(nervous)
Been to many battles before?
TAKING a good-sized Novan medical DEVICE from ASSISTANT:
As she guides T.J.'s hand into the device's OPENING, T.J. draws breath, mouths "cold!".
They'll be in range in 4 minutes!
Ready main weapon! Mr. Wallace!?
Pittsburgh!? Time for a change of plan!
Eli! Young? Whoever's cranking up forward starboard shields, can you give us a minute?
The Novans step back, give him the thumbs-up. The brand new Power Relay SPARKS MIGHTILY (RUSH shields his eyes, steps further away), then simply HUMS along, no longer shiny, while the smoke CLEARS.
Rush just STARES. His ear-mic flashes a YELLOW dot.
CHLOE (O.S. thin, from ear-mic)
Dr. Rush!? I'm reading 2% more shield strength in that section! Whatever you did, keep doing it!
The Novans are already packing their gear.
REMOVING the DEVICE, now with BLINKING lights:
Alright, dear. Your results will be ready tomorrow. Then we can start with the customized treatment.
PARK and GREER hurriedly kiss 'goodbye'.
(friendly professional)
Plenty, in simms. Don't worry, yours looks like a classic early stage: Couple weeks with the bug, you'll be good as new, genes fixed for good, every little cell clean forever.
GREER dashes out.
She gives T.J. a Novan compu-PAD. T.J. starts browsing it, engrossed.
... engineered Superbugs for medical uses...
Approaching PARK:
Coming thru! Coming...!
He helps others to better safety (perhaps assisted by military crewmembers).
At some places, small GAS/vapor streams/clouds shoot out from walls / hidden pipes. It's unclear what caused 'em: damage or protective/coolant/pressure-stabilizing systems?
Also glimpsed: welders (in protective/vacuum gear) MENDING the nastier hull breaches, placing support beams here & there, helped by spider-like fat-kino-sized floating ROBOTS.
His surroundings lightly SHAKE; he calmly looks upwards.
Suddenly, powerful identical groups of BEAMS SHOOT from 'nowhere' towards each DRONE COMMAND SHIP, surgically HITTING both, despite 1 of them managing to FLEE a bit. That's the one IMMEDIATELY BLOWING UP to 100000 pieces. The other just stays put.
Both swarms become DORMANT, start drifting away.
ELI and MARSHALL shout the hits. Everybody CHEERS.
Last, one Interesting TECH, loaded with what seem 200+ golf balls inside a net, exits the PUDDLE.
GATE DEACTIVATES.
The others just CELEBRATE.
Did I miss something?
(worried?)
Good question. Mr. Wallace? What did just happen out there?
(smiling)
And: can we do it again? Please?
JAMES agrees.
(stalling)
Ahhmm. Remember Pittsburgh, the planet? I got something from there a few weeks ago...
What's he talking about? What planet?
Beats me. The only Pittsburgh I remember...
Drones. And a Command Ship nearly vaporizing us all.
Exactly what did you get there?
ELI and CHLOE are momentarily distracted by 150+ golf-ball-sized silver-white Novan mini-kinos FLOATING UPWARDS in the middle of the room.
Then he gets a glimpse of the Interesting TECH. CHLOE's also STARING.
What do you mean 'come back'? What drones!? Nobody told me this place wasn't safe!!
Signaling 'be back soon', he steps a bit away from the others.
Interesting TECH (O.S, from ear-mic)
I know, uncle Wally. But Destiny! Wow! And they're here: the Ancestors, and uncle Marshall!
CUT TO:
Middle-age Hunter RILEY (younger than Chairman, unfazed, to mic)
The Gateroom, obviously: I brought the mini-kino swarm.
How can it be?
(hesitant?)
Hi, Riley. Long time no see.
(eager)
Hello, Mr. Wallace. I've read all your books! You're my favorite Ancestor!
MARSHALL receives an ear-mic call:
Funny I was thinking the same: My memory isn't what it used to be, but this was in the plan?
Hello, m'boy.
(charming diplomat)
Hey, I'm Chloe. Chloe Armstrong. You are...?
(grins)
Hunter Riley, senior engineer at Star Industries. Pleased to meet you. You're cuter in person!
On my way, sir!
As RILEY walks to the exit, with the SWARM (& the crew's stares) following him:
One of the things Marshall found in Noctis' database was a route to a few years in the past. Such a short Jump was of no use to him in the war.
CHAIRMAN (from Console screens)
But when he told me after coming back, I immediately saw the potential: We could warn ourselves, as we entered this galaxy, to keep from repeating the same terrible mistakes.
Warning Earth of the Lucian Alliance attack.
BROOKS & her ASSISTANTS keep about their tasks (setting devices up, etc). An Ancient SCREEN shows the ongoing 'conference'.
No dialing from inside a star? I already warned about that. And the other 'me' too...
CHAIRMAN (from Ancient screen)
We agreed to give it a try. It was later when we started having second thoughts.
Exactly my point: We would be getting rid of plenty of good as well as plenty of bad.
Others AGREE.
We had to wait some time before getting the particular flare-disrupted wormhole we needed, so we made a few stops along the way.
CHAIRMAN (from Ancient SCREEN)
It was while visiting Ginn's tomb that Marshall told me of the "second-chance" tech Novans had: They could clone people from the DNA of the dear departed.
Yeah, thanks to pretty good longevity, as well as some ethical concerns if it got out of hand.
(mixed feelings?)
No memories. DNA, yes. Body, mostly yes. Personality and talents, maybe. Otherwise, a blank slate. A fresh start.
And a good chance that the end "result" is different. Hence "second chancers". But that
(cocky?)
wouldn't be the only good thing Novus produced.
The ALS cure!
And the bio-engineering methods that keep people healthier longer
and will soon return sight to Dr. Park.
(touches gently-blinking helmet)
But if the Garden Dome hadn't been irradiated in the 1st place... Oohh, Eli, you cannot solve this logically!
CHAIRMAN (from Console screen)
We didn't: We argued for weeks, even as we both realized we needed another plan.
Chiming in:
We've all seen refugees telling how they've suffered watching their entire families and worlds burned down by those damn drones. All of us will do anything to keep that kind of horror from happening again.
Others AGREE.
A second chance for this galaxy would mean no drones to start with.
(dead serious)
That's exactly what we are doing with the lives of every single thing in this galaxy.
I believe so, after 50 long years of thinking about it. That's why I'm now asking your help: We're all in this.
Destiny, Noctis, and all the other Novan colonies. Everything that lives and grows and wants to have a future: We all have the same enemy. And we'll all be part of the solution.
Wait: you spent 50 years at Novus? Tell us more about that!
(as the others around him REACT)
What!?
Just 49: Took us a while to gather more "flare'n'jump" data and find a route going sometime useful.
As some Consoles ALERT of what happened, and the others worry about it, CHAIRMAN receives a private ear-mic call:
Good! Faster than planned. Hhmm...
(switching gears)
Love, say 'hi' to everyone, will you?
Middle-age GINN (younger than Chairman, cheerful, from Console)
Hi, everyone!
Her elegant/practical Novan attire (under a more discrete yet similar suit of dark-orange-red 'flying' ARMOR as Chairman) reminds perhaps a bit of her old austere Lucian outfit. Her BACKGROUND not clearly distinguishable.
CHLOE, WRAY, others REACT.
CHAIRMAN (grinning, from Console)
My friends, it's my pleasure to introduce you to one of the foremost Stargate and subspace tech experts...
... in the galaxy, leader of FTL research, Head of Pittsburgh Project, and my wife.
(smiling)
You rascal!
Another second-chancer?
Technically, he cheated.
(shrugs)
But the girl's well worth it, so...
Middle-age GINN (from Console)
Honey? The next step?
Hunter RILEY (O.S. from Console)
Yup! I'm testing 'em! Can you believe that "8 Alien Passengers" movie got the ship so massively wrong?
(rolls eyes?)
Please double-check everything: I want no tight turns, no people or any obstacles in the way. Speed is of the essence!
(Console, mini-kino swarm POV)
Yes, uncle Wally. The route's all clear and ready to go. There should be no problem.
Varro, Lieutenant, Lucian, special forces...
(more than meets the eye)
sharpshooter, explosives and survival expert...
(Ear-mic TECH's getting nervous)
spy, paramedic-in-training, waiter...
(smiling, OFFERS her a snack)
People turn to the inactive Ring. It ACTIVATES, STARTS SPINNING.
As the last crates, people & stuff are kicked/pushed/pulled out of the way:
Ring LOCKS. VORTEX WHOOSHES.
SOON:
OUT of the PUDDLE flies/glides a tubular/prismatic/multifaceted structure (point-first, steel-glass-gold) like a person-sized Eiffel Tower, RIDING a big kino-like 'gunmetal gray' SPHERE stuck between its 4 arched metal legs. It's an AUTOCANNON, its profile not unlike that of Destiny's, sleek, deadly-looking, with a smallish 'Star Industries' LOGO + Novan BARCODES. Prettier than a drone, but...
In the GENERAL SILENCE, it floats barrel-first to the room's opposite exit, ACCELERATING while another identical machine GATES IN.
Hunter RILEY can be glimpsed in the corridor, PAD in hand, as the 1st AUTOCANNON turns out of sight.
The 2nd one follows the same path as a 3rd one EXITS the PUDDLE. Then a 4th.
BACK TO:
Several AUTOCANNON STREAMS are gating IN, vanishing beyond the exit.
Party never ends around here!
(OFFERS last meat snack)
Want? They're good!
FLY THRU.
It works! They're deploying!
As 1 AUTOCANNON flies up close past the Bridge:
Hey! What was that?
Are those ours ?
That's artillery!?
YOUNG BALLS his FIST, bares TEETH.
10s of Novan weapons have surfaced & started to 'settle' all over the HULL like so many grass leaves.
DRONE SWARMS start DEPLOYING pronto.
Timely bastards, ain't they?
(to Console)
All military personnel, ready to withstand attack! Repeat!
Everybody to stations! We got incoming!
Checking wristPAD:
By his side:
Let's hope. Drones care nothing about diplomacy.
Camille! Sharp as always! Y'know I was ambassador to a lot of allies? None of them managed to open talks with any drones, ever.
How do these things work?
Keying Console:
What's happening? We need more time!
(as the TECHS take an intersection)
Wait! Where're you going?
The lead Novan tech shows his PAD, glowing with a Destiny wireframe 'mockup' complete with "you're here" DOT + GPS-navigator-style ROUTES.
Lemme check... So you have Destiny's floor plan.
(as the Novan navigates the SCREEN)
That's the Repairs list?
(the Novan nods)
Very well: prioritize Shields, and Weapons.
(as the Novan complies, a long list SCROLLS by)
Can you optimize it for impact and shortest time?
(the smiling Novan complies: SCREEN shows new listing & DIRECTIONS)
Very good. So we should go... that way.
He leads the Novans along the same way they were initially headed to.
Damned if you fix 'em! Damned if you let 'em explode! I swear, if they allow anything to hit this section again...!!
Novan weaponry (100+ already) silent. Their BARRELS one after another start SHADOWING nearby Ancient Gun moves.
SHIELDS everywhere REFLECT (most) enemy fire.
More AutoCannons POUR OUT of HULL BREACHES. Some of them get hit by drone fire. 1 (moderately) EXPLODES, the rest FLY over the hull to their positions.
Checking Console:
His wristPAD shows a status message:
Linking with Destiny's realtime sensor feed.......
After a few more 'waiting dots', the message changes to:
Realtime sensor link: ESTABLISHED.
- - - -
Acquiring targets.....
Faint SOUNDS of enemy fire INCREASE.
Shields holding! But barely!
SCREENS are full of drones.
Any moment now!
Watching death in the eye:
Prep main weapon.
Checking Console:
Command Ships are out of range, Colonel!
Still keying:
His wristPAD shows a status message:
Synchronizing with Destiny's shield patterns......
A not-so-far IMPACT is felt. Console screens GLITCH momentarily.
WristPAD shows another message:
Pattern Synch: STABLE.
(scrolls to:)
Please select Operation:
MANUAL MODE
ASSISTED MODE
FULL AUTO MODE
(worried)
What if it doesn't...?
CLOSE UP:
A DRONE SWERVES avoiding 1 of Destiny's BEAMS. Novan-style FIRE HITS it. As it tries to evade, it's HIT again and AGAIN by Novan BLASTS, until it EXPLODES.
Same everywhere, with variations.
The 'fountains' keep flowing, the AutoCannons CREEP to fill every available surface, even the pyramid-like 'castle'.
DRONES EVADING, GETTING HIT/EXPLODING. It's a WALL OF FIRE and none's getting past, though some come close enough to SHOOT. More DRONES GET HIT/EXPLODE.
Destiny's BACK/UNDERSIDE: WALL's there too, almost as solid. More drones are HIT/more EXPLOSIONS.
WHOLESALE DESTRUCTION: The 3 combined SWARMS are DECIMATED like flies. Even their debris BLASTED to BITS if it gets in the way.
Drone HIT. Again. SPIN-KABOOM! .... Next!
(grinning)
Holy sh...!!!!! We're a battleship now!
(screaming)
Whaooohoooo!!
That was close!
CHECKING data:
Re: closest Command Ship:
(piloting)
Yes, sir!
(raised fist)
Told! You!! SO!!!
Console shows RED DOTS quickly vanishing.
As his Console chimes/flashes:
We got a Kamikaze!
(urgent)
Lieutenant Scott??
(tense)
Hurry, man!
Mesmerized by the looming danger:
It's getting too close!
FOCUS: Lots & LOTS & lots of SUPERFICIAL DAMAGE taking its toll (slow motion?). [+]
(smiles?)
Whoa! Pretty!
(urgent)
Scott!?!?
Watch out!
As his Console signals 'target acquired':
The remaining Command Ship JUMPS to FTL. Battle over.
All that remains of the enemy is a CLOUD of (expanding) drone debris, mixed with DORMANT (intact) drones from the earlier attack.
Relaxing:
(serious)
That was too damn close.
Says who?
Keep 'em guessing!?
Manoeuverability is our weak spot.
We almost got killed!
Re: AutoCannons:
Energy source's compartmentalized: Maximum yield should never exceed 1%, well within safety margins.
Reviewing PAD data:
C'mon, the odds of a perfect shot thru
(gesturing?)
the barrel and focusing stages just as they energize are minimal. Hhhmmmm...
(to mic)
Uncle Wally, we'll need to tweak the design. Temperatures get almost too high.
Chairman, the Agincourt worked great, but we need to review our options. I'm not liking these odds.
Yeah, the firepower of 10 battleships supported by a single hull does have its drawbacks.
There, there. It's over now.
Is it over yet? Anyone still around, please respond!
(inspects mic, sotto?)
This thing's broken or what?
(pushing? fingering? ranting?)
Work, dammit! Why... isn't... it... working!?
(to machine, loud)
Will you TURN ON already!?!?
Obediently, the heavy machinery SWITCHES ON, bathing him & his team in pale Ancient-like LIGHTS. It's unclear what or who made it work.
(hyperventilating?)
There! That wasn't... so hard. Now, was it?
As he steps back, one of the Novans places a small breathing MASK on his face. He holds it gratefully, breathes deep.
One of you... check if... the rest of... the ship's ... still there.
CHLOE and others rejoice. Not so MARSHALL. As WRAY eyes him quizzically:
VARRO agrees.
Here comes the hard part: we need to stay.
(as the others REACT)
War's not over yet. Not by a long shot.
I got a bad feeling about this...
Let's get the hell outta Dodge while the goin's good.
Yeah. We've had more than enough for a day.
(gestures)
Somehow I doubted your plan was just this. You want more than just getting us to defend ourselves and smack all drone swarms from here to the next galaxy.
Of course there's a lot more! You cannot destroy half a galaxy's worth of drones in a day. If only because their FTL cannot get 'em all here that quick.
(as the others REACT)
We have now the unique chance to deal them a blow they won't easily recover from, if ever.
Drone we kill today, one we won't face tomorrow!
Tomorrow we give 'em more of the same.
That Command Ship, the one waiting to see what happened to its partner? They were studying us: Our tactics. Our firepower. Their chances. Their countertactics. Next wave will come better prepared. It's what they do.
Assuming they're that smart, which is a lot.
Well, some of the things we've seen point that way...
The Blockade, their different tactics, the one sacrificing itself, their adaptability. You're saying it's like your older counterpart told us?
Not that bad yet, maybe, but we won't enjoy such an advantage over them again. It'd be foolish not to use it.
Advantage? One ship against 100s or 1000s?
Their still primitive intelligence, their single- mindedness, the surprise factor. Novan weaponry they've never met before. Lots of ammo, parts, supplies and repairs Destiny cannot get elsewhere.
Their coming to us while we're expecting them.
Instead of them ambushing us and almost destroying us.
Not to mention what Rush would do to you if you got Destiny destroyed...
(chuckling?)
He's got a point!
They'll eventually realize they'd lose too much trying to off us here. We need to lure 'em for as long and from as far away as possible. The more risk, the more lure. The less risk, the less lure.
We're huntin' drones!
What about less risk, more lure?
But if they keep coming, Mr. Wallace, your 'plan' needs to deal with far worse than we've already seen, doesn't it? So tell us: how are we gonna defeat 'em with what we've got?
You haven't seen all we've got, everything we're ready to deploy if, as and when necessary. I swear to you, Colonel, there's enough cards in our deck, but they need to be played carefully if we wanna not just survive the day, but grab the big prize too.
Like a high-stakes poker game, huh? Not for wimps.
The highest stakes: Everybody's life on the line. Decision's ours. The table's ours. Today or never.
Yay.
You know how to switch off the Autopilot?
As he approaches a Console, caresses its keys:
Yeah, but why bother?
(to mic)
Anyone around the FTL sections please stand by: I'm gonna run a command.
What now?
(sigh?)
Fire away.
CHAIRMAN navigates the Ancient menus, slowly at 1st, then faster. Choosing options, answering alerts.
Colonel Young! Clock's gone dark!
CHAIRMAN gestures 'there you have it'.
Wait: I got a warning on 'scheduled FTL maintenance'!? Never seen that one before!
Colonel, we need to tell everyone about this. They should have a say. If we're going with this crazy plan.
YOUNG (O.S. from everybody's ear-mic)
We know what'll happen if we do nothing!
YOUNG (O.S. from P.A? from mini-kinos?)
And we ain't gonna fail them!!
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