The Stars Came Back (9 page)

CUT TO

INT - DAY -
Cargo bay of the flier

It is small, about the size of a V-22 deck
, lined with flip-down seats. Harbin stands next to the ramp, pulling tight the straps on a safety harness. There is a thump and a jerk as the flier sets down. He hits a large button on the bulkhead and the rear ramp rapidly lowers to the ground. Many exclamations of “thank God” and “great to see you” and the like are heard from the passengers as they scramble aboard.

Harbin:
EVERYONE MAKE IT?

Female passenger: (
Happily) Yes, all here!

All the passenger
s run up the ramp as fast as they can to board, carrying the smaller kids.

Harbin: (
From ramp door facing inward, yelling, serious drill sergeant voice) One per seat and buckle up!

He
takes a nearby kid from her dad and sits her into a seat, grabs the straps, buckles her in with practiced speed and efficiency, then looks up the cargo hold to see everyone else is doing the same.

Harbin: (Yelling towards the cockpit) LIFT OFF! GO
GO GO!

He slaps the
ramp button, and it slowly starts to rise.

CUT TO

EXT - DAY - Landing field

One of the slavers carrying a light machine gun with a long belt of ammo jumps into the remaining flier, a small open-topped two man quad-rotor with ducted fans. He drops the gun into the pintle mount on the front right corner of the cockpit, grabs the controls, hits a button, waits a moment as the propellers spin up to speed, then takes off after Helton.

CUT TO

INT - DAY - Flier cargo bay

The cargo bay loading ramp is about two-thirds closed. Harbin, now with a safety line clipped to his harness, checks the buckles of those seated on the cargo deck wall. Next to him, a passenger pours a cup of water from the 20L can they had brought aboard. A loud roaring of air rushing past an open door fills the cargo bay, everyone’s hair is blowing a bit. There is a metallic CLANK as the water can sprouts two holes, one facing the open ramp and one on the opposite side. Harbin jerks his head around to look out the back door. There is a spurt of hydraulic oil out from near the ramp lift pistons. One of the lines springs a bullet hole, and the ramp stops closing.

Camera view
pans to look out the back door, then zooms in on the small quad-rotor that is now just a little way behind them, its pilot aiming at them with the mounted machine gun.

CUT TO

V
iew from the front of cargo bay looking out the back hatch

Passengers line the wall, buckled in, holding various items like the duffels, ammo bandoleers,
and the water can. Harbin snatches his rifle from the man holding it for him, barrel-down, steps to the back door and braces with a knee and one hand, then starts firing at the quad-rotor as it dodges and jerks behind the swooping, twisting ship. Harbin struggles to keep his feet as the flier dives and swerves, the view out the back door shifting wildly. A series of holes appear in the loading ramp. Splashes of bullets bouncing off interior points glint around the cargo hold.

INSET - A bullet passes through Harbin’s leg as he stands there, blood leaking out of the entry wound, and a small spray of gore out the exit wound. More than a scratch but not hitting bone.

Harbin fires one handed, fires, fires again, but the combination of Helton’s evasive flying and erratic quad-rotor motion is hard even for him. He drops the magazine, inserts another one from a pocket, switches to full auto and hoses down the general area of the quad-rotor, brass flying.

CUT TO

Flier cockpit

Helton twists and turns the control yoke as the canyon walls flash by through windows and screens. He flips a switch, adjusts a large lever forward. He grits his teeth and, seeing a sheer wall ahead, pulls back hard on the yoke.

CUT TO

EXT - DAY - Over-the-s
houlder POV of quad-rotor pilot

One hand is on the belt-fed pintle-mounted light machine gun, the other on the control yoke. As he flies erratically back and forth, he fires bursts at the
flier, sometimes hitting it, sometimes shooting wide. They swoop through a series of tight turns with steep canyon walls on each side. A bullet from Harbin breaks his windscreen, making him swerve. He fires back. Another swooping curve, another round tears a small hole in the front of his quad-rotor. He shoots again. A stream of tracer fire blossoms out from the flier as Harbin fires on full auto. The quad dodges wildly to avoid it. The tracers cease, and the quad banks back to fire another burst. Suddenly, the flier pulls straight up, revealing a sheer rock wall ahead.

CUT TO

INT - DAY - Cargo bay, view of Harbin

Rifle still shouldered he inserts another magazine. The view out the aft door changes sharply as Helton stands the craft on its tail and climbs straight up. Shift to slow motion, Harbin is pitched forward and through the half open ramp door, getting a clear and close shot at the quad-rotor. As Harbin falls through the air he points the rifle, firing on full auto. Tracers rip through the quad pilot and one motor.

Cut back

EXT - DAY - Quad pilot over-the-shoulder POV, slo
w motion

Helton’s flier goes straight up
. As Harbin drops out trailing his safety line on the harness, he fires a long burst. The quad engine explodes, the windshield shatters, the pilot rocks back as rounds rip through him. The quad-rotor is heading straight for where Harbin falls though the air. He’s jerked up hard on his safety line, whipping up and out of the view, clearing the oncoming quad-rotor like a high-speed yoyo being reeled in. The quad flies straight on into the rock wall and explodes, splattering on the sheer rock wall of the canyon.

FADE TO WHITE

Relaxing

FADE IN

INT - DAY - Spaceport lounge

A busy place, lots of booths, tables, many screens on the walls, varied lighting. Helton and Harbin sit across from each other at the end of a long table. A dozen passengers from the pirate rescue sit along the table with drinks and the remains of meals in front of them. The other passengers talk among themselves. The two are comfortable with each other.

Harbin: Been a while since I had more action on leave than in the field. Felt good to be in a noncontract fight where the only rule was “
win.”

Helton: Too bad about your
being shot, though. The leg seems to be healing nicely. No noticeable limp.

Harbin: Shouldn’t be. The Boss and the Wife both frown on getting damaged outside the line of duty.
On duty as well.

Helton: I’m sure they’d cut you some slack, given the situation.

Harbin: (Grunts) Part of my job is to teach people how to
not
be careless and die from stupid. I wasn’t careful enough when I boarded the tramp ship and let myself be gassed and dropped in the desert. That would be unforgivable if we hadn’t managed to get ourselves out of it.

Helton:
Your boss must be a serious hard ass.

Harbin: (
Tipping his head in thought) He’s among the best, but he doesn’t suffer fools or stupid mistakes lightly. Working for him is tough. Fighting against him,
deadly
.

Helton: Next time, then, we’ll just have to take a ship with better armor.

Harbin: Hard to find. Most ships don’t have it. Generally it’s useless.

Helton: Like souvenirs?

Harbin: (Shoots Helton a dark look) A first for everything. Normally it’s useful as a screen door on a spaceship. (Shrugs fatalistically) Been a while since anyone one-upped me on getting shot and lived to talk, too. That’s something to tell the grandkids about. Any more ideas about it?

Helton: Nope. At least it’s open, now.
Lots of damaged pages, but they are seriously tough. Some sort of metallized carbon nano-tube stuff, I think. No idea who made it. Can’t go back to the cave without government clearance, and they’re not letting us anywhere
near
that prison mine again. Haven’t told the authorities about it. Ah, well. It all worked out OK. Good guys lived, bad guys mostly died, official investigation started-

Harbin: (
Cynically) Likely just a whitewash-

Helton: -but started anyway, some official reward cash and a couple of cute new friends who owe me their lives
.

He looks over at the young
passenger ladies nearby, one with a kid next to her, who smiles back when she notices him looking at her.

Harbin: (
Grinning) Don’t let it go to your head, Hero.

Helton: After a near death experience, you think about things. Long term, life sort of things. I am, anyway.

Harbin: Been there. Were I younger and single, I would again, too. Met my wife that way, just after… Being close to death
does
make you think about life. The closer you get, the deeper you see into yourself. No real risks, no deep thoughts.

Helton: Feels good to have more control of my life again…

Harbin: (Nods agreement) Any plans till your flight pulls out next week?

Helton: (
Shrug) See the sights. Meet people, hopefully a cute one. Get a new coat. Find a game. Try to stop being amazed that I actually landed something without killing anyone.

Harbin: If you call
that a landing.

Helton: (
Joking) Picky, picky, picky. We walked away, didn’t we?

Harbin: (
Grudgingly) Technically. If you define “walk away” broadly enough… All things considered, you did well. You did your family proud.

They lean back in their chairs, clink glasses in salute to events and each other, and take a drink.

FADE TO BLACK

Cards

FADE IN

INT - NIGHT - Discreetly lit, respectable-look
ing entertainment establishment

Helton sits at a card table with seven others. All are nicely dressed, steampunk
-ish general style, and there are a lot of chips on the table. Three players are women. A half dozen people watch the game. Helton has the smallest stack, but it’s substantial. He eyes his cards, and the lone ten of spades in the center of the table, then tosses in a pair of chips. The next person folds silently. The next pushes in two to meet and raises by three chips of a different kind. There are murmurs from the onlookers.

DISSOLVE TO

Down to six at the table, and Helton’s heap
of chips is about average compared to the others. He pushes in a stack of ten brightly colored chips next to the three of diamonds, adding to the pile already there, prompting many surprised exclamations by the observers. Beside him, a long-haired woman slams down her cards in disgust. The next man only has ten chips of the same kind left. He nervously eyes the pot, his hand, his chips again, swallows, and pushes his stack in. The next guy folds. A dozen people are now watching.

DISSOLVE TO

Only
two other guys left in the game. Two dozen people watch. Only a small pot, and three-fourths of the chips not in the pot are in front of Helton. GrimGuy (skinny, long flowing hair, goatee, shades) has most of the rest. Trembler (average build, sharply dressed, short hair) only has ten chips left. The center card is a nine of clubs. Helton carefully looks over the other two players stacks and pushes forward a pile, about half what GrimGuy has remaining. The dealer rakes it closer to the pot but keeps it carefully separate. Trembler trembles, realizing he’s forced out, or at least can’t win from a large side pot. GrimGuy matches Helton’s bet, and again the dealer keeps it slightly apart. Trembler trembles more.

Dealer:. (
To Trembler) All in with a side pot, add money, or fold?

The largish crowd of onlookers exclaim and murmur.

Trembler: No.
No
. You
can’t
force me out like this. You CAN’T! I
need
the whole pot!

Grim
Guy: Shut up. You know the rules.

Trembler: You CAN’T!

Dealer: If you cannot add money to match, you’re only in the main pot.

Trembler looks around at the other two players and the crowd desperately,
seeking a way out of his bind, looking like he’d like to beg but knows it wouldn’t help him.

Trembler: But… but… how
… how about my ship?

Helton and Grim
Guy both study him. The surrounding crowd hushes to hear.

Helton: (
Flatly) Your ship?