Wing Commander in Real Time - Day 1 - 2150 Zulu

Script

34 INT. DILIGENT - PALADIN's QUARTERS

Paladin's door is open. Blair appears. Paladin is studying

An ancient star chart.

PALADIN

Come in.

Blair steps into the quarters, Spartan at best. A cold

meal is scattered over the old star charts.

BLAIR

We're holding steady on the beacon.

Maniac has the helm.

He sees the old star charts.

BLAIR

These must be antiques.

PALADIN

Yeah. They were made by the first

explorers in the sector. Pilgrims.

Paladin starts folding the star charts.

BLAIR

I couldn't help noticing the tattoo on

your neck.

A small smile crosses Paladin's face; the type you use to

conceal painful memories.

PALADIN

How about the Pilgrim cross you hide

under your vest.

BLAIR reacts.

PALADIN (CONT'D)

Don't worry we all have pasts and

secrets.

BLAIR

(remembering)

It was my mothers.

PALADIN studies Blair, seems to like what he sees.

PALADIN

May I see it?

BLAIR pulls his cross off, hands it to Paladin. there's

something in Paladin's eyes as he takes it, something

almost reverential. He runs his fingers over it,

depresses a plate and a seven inch blade telescopes from

the cross. As Paladin runs his finger over the blade:

PALADIN (CONT'D)

(That easy smile again)

There was a time, long ago, when people

looked up to the Pilgrims. They were at

the forefront of space exploration.

PALADIN retracts the blade, hands the cross back to

Blair, looks at him as the younger man slips the cross

around the neck.

PALADIN (CONT'D)

You know, since the Pilgrim's were

defeated -- not a single new Quasar has

been charted.

Just then, the ship lurches with a sudden surge of

acceleration.

PALADIN

The idiot!

And Paladin flies out of the cabin.

SC. 35 OMIT

36 INT. DILIGENT - BRIDGE

Paladin storms onto the bridge, followed by Blair.

PALADIN

Get up!

Maniac vacates the captain's chair. Paladin studies the

instruments.

PALADIN

Did you change course?

MANIAC

No, just boosted the power. Why dog it

when we can be at that beacon in an

hour?

PALADIN

That beacon is marking a gravity well!

BLAIR and MANIAC react as PALADIN punches the navigation

computer. Heads up display materializes. A flat grid

appears. It begins to fold inward, creating a strange,

swirling elliptical spike in the concave surface.

This galvanizes both Blair and Maniac. Merlin self-

activates and begins pacing.

MERLIN

I told you this ship wasn't up to the job.

My sensors indicate that there are a

number of structural flaws that--

PALADIN

What the hell is that?

BLAIR

Merlin. My personal portable computer.

PALADIN

Tell that runt to shut up or I'll

jettison it.

Merlin freezes, mute.

Paladin uses a telescopic lense to bring up a dim object on

the screen, a blurred image of spinning space, generating

a powerful magnetic field! Asteroids and space junk

caught in its pull are sucked down, as though into a

whirlpool, and disappear.

Paladin begins firing reverse thrusters, throwing the two

younger men forward as he slowly alters course.

PALADIN

One cubic inch of that well exerts more

gravitational force than the sun!

PALADIN bangs on the navigational computer inputs

coordinates.

PALADIN (cont'd)

Come on! If I don't re-align our entry

vector, we're not going to make the

jump.

MANIAC

What happens if we miss?

PALADIN

We die.

The Diligent's skin begins to GROAN and CREAK. A sensor

screams out.

BLAIR

Have we reached the entry vector's PNR

yet?

Paladin feverishly throws switches, makes adjustments,

totally concentrated on the task. The spinning gravity

well appears closer.

PALADIN

Not quite yet. She's reaching out for

us. Hear that?

The GROANS increase, as the thrusters fight to change

course. On the screen Scylla appears larger and more

ominous.

PALADIN

Well Ladies, meet Scylla, bane to

sailors, and monster of myth.

MANIAC

What's a Scylla?

BLAIR

Ulysses sailed between the whirlpool

Charybdis and the island monster,

Scylla. She snatched six of his men and

ate them.

MANIAC

I didn't need to know that.

PALADIN

This beauty will eat more than that.

Hold on.

Paladin flips a switch, and a bank of thrusters throws the

ship sideways. The Diligent yaws for a few moments, as

every seam groans. Maniac and Blair are thrown to the

deck. Merlin's holographic image VIBRATES until it's a

blur. The ships' afterburners scream.

PALADIN bangs on the navigational computers, keeps

putting in coordinates.

Diligent seems to steady, line up. On the heads up

display, we see a digital glide path.

PALADIN

(to the screen)

Broken your grip, old girl. Better

luck, next time.

PALADIN sits at the pilot's chair, steers the Diligent

along the glide path. outside, we see space shimmer,

distort, bend.

MANIAC

What the hell is this thing?

PALADIN

This "thing" is a distortion in space-

time. Pilgrims were the first to chart

it.

MANIAC

So why is it off-limits?

PALADIN

Because it's unstable.

MANIAC

(Mouthing to Blair:)

And we're going to jump it?

Suddenly, a sensor screams out, and the heads up display

disappears.

BLAIR

Navigational computers just went off

line.

PALADIN

It's the magnetic fields. Blair, take

the helm!

BLAIR

I've never made a jump before.

PALADIN

Now would be a good time to learn.

And Paladin's gone.

MANIAC

Do you like this guy?

BLAIR's POV: The swirling vortex of the gravity well

approaches fast.

36A INT. DILIGENT BRIDGE - NAV COMPUTER

PALADIN works desperately on the navigation computer,

pulls a panel off, considers the intricate wiring, starts

pulling chips, rewiring the thing.

36B INT. DILIGENT - BRIDGE

Gravity well's right there. Digital countdown reads 9,

8, 7 ...

MANIAC

(calling out)

Ah, Mr. Taggart.

PALADIN'S still digging away at the computer.

PALADIN

What?

BLAIR

Five seconds to jump.

PALADIN

So?

MANIAC

So if you don't get the computer back

on line, this "unstable" gravity well

is going pull us in, one molecule at a

time.

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Novelization

CHAPTER 4

REQUISITIONED MERCHANTMAN DILIGENT

MARCH 15, 2654 2150 HOURS ZULU TIME

ENROUTE TO BEACON 147

Taggart's hatch stood ajar, and Blair peeked through the crack. If a

man's quarters say a lot about the man, then this place isn't talking.

Taggart kept only the bare essentials: cot, night-stand, and wide, battered

desk. Even the old gray walls were bare, sans the pinups or family photos

that hung in the majority of pilot berths. Taggart sat at the desk, poring

over a collection of ancient star charts printed on real paper. A half-dozen

of them lay rolled up and bound by rubber bands at his elbow. Still more

of the scrolls sat in a pile on the floor. Amid the charts lay an unwrapped

and half-eaten sandwich and Taggart's coffee mug. Lifting a knuckle, Blair

prepared to knock. "Come in," Taggart said.

Grinning slightly over the man's keen senses, Blair entered and

suddenly felt awkward at standing in this most personal of places. He

blurted out, "We're holding steady on the beacon. Marshall has the helm."

He neared the desk and ran his finger over one of the charts. "These must

be antiques."

"Yeah," Taggart said. "They were made by the first explorers in the

sector. Pilgrims."

"How did you get them?"

Taggart rolled up one of the maps. "Now that's a story too long to

hear."

"I, uh, before… I couldn't help noticing the tattoo on your neck."

Smiling wanly, Taggart looked to an empty wall. Blair could only

imagine what ghosts the captain saw there. "What about the Pilgrim cross

you hide under your shirt?"

Retreating a step, Blair's hand went instinctively for the cross. Then,

realizing he had betrayed himself, he thrust the hand to his side and

waited for the inevitable.

"Don't worry. We all have pasts. And secrets."

Blair gave a slight sigh. "It was my mother's."

"May I see it?"

After hesitating, Blair lifted the chain over his head and withdrew the

cross. He handed it to Taggart, who ran his fingers slowly, reverently over

the semicircle. The glimmer in his eyes grew brighter, and his face

tightened into the countenance of a priest staring at a recovered relic. He

pressed the center symbol. A seven-inch blade telescoped from the cross's

bottom.

As he traced the blade with his index finger, he smiled wanly again and

said, "There was a time long ago when people looked up to the Pilgrims.

They were at the forefront of space exploration. When I was a boy, I knew

there was some kind of connection between God and the stars. I think the

Pilgrims found that connection." He touched the plate again, retracting

the blade, then returned it to Blair.

"You know," Taggart continued, "since the Pilgrims were defeated, not

a single new quasar has been charted."

"It's so strange hearing someone talk like this. The word Pilgrim has

always been… I don't know… a curse."

Without warning, a sudden surge of acceleration sent Blair reaching for

the desk. He caught the edge and balanced himself as Taggart's coffee

mug fell and broke.

"That idiot!" Taggart screamed. He shot to his feet and stormed out of

the cabin.

Blair followed close behind, only then realizing what Marshall had done.

As Taggart entered the bridge, he shouted, "Get up!"

Marshall's face grew thin and pale as he quickly vacated the captain's

chair and moved to the co-pilot's seat. "That caffeine's killing your

attitude, man."

"Shut up. Did you change course?"

"You told me to shut up."

"Answer the question!"

"No. Just boosted the power. Why dog it when we can be at the beacon

in an hour? Unless, of course, you want us to be delayed."

Blair watched Marshall's hand drift toward the sidearm concealed at

his calf.

"That beacon is marking a gravity well," Taggart said through clenched

teeth.

Marshall gave Blair a nervous look and mouthed, "Holy shit."

Swinging the navigation computer in front of him, Taggart's fingers

danced over the touchpad until a Heads Up Display lit before them. A

green, flat grid rotated and glowed as data bars on each side filled with

coordinates. The grid began folding inward, creating a strange, swirling,

elliptical spike in the concave surface.

Blair stood transfixed, knowing all too well what a gravity well could do

to a Confed capital ship, let alone a rusty old transport.

Something sparkled near the floor, and Blair turned as Merlin

self-activated and began pacing. "I told you this ship wasn't up to the job.

My sensors indicate that there are a number of structural flaws—"

"What the hell is that?" Taggart asked with a lopsided grin.

"That's Merlin," Blair answered. "He's the interface for my PPC."

Taggart resumed his gaze on the HUD. "Well, get into his face and tell

him to shut up."

Blair cocked his head to give the order, but Merlin had already

switched to standby mode.

Shoving the navigation computer back on its swingarm, Taggart slid

another display forward, one that offered multiple views of space via the

Diligent's external cameras. He chose the image from the centerline unit

and adjusted the telescopic lens to bring a dim object, the gravity well,

into focus. Blair spotted asteroids and space debris being sucked into the

well, as though into a whirlpool, and disappearing. The Diligent screamed

toward the same future.

Taggart beat his knuckle upon a thruster control button, throwing Blair

and Marshall forward as retros violently kicked in. "One cubic inch of that

well exerts more gravitational force than Earth's sun," he barked at

Marshall.

"I screwed up. I get that. Stow the physics lesson," Marshall answered,

his eyes not leaving the external camera display.

Taggart pushed that display aside and slid back the navigation

computer. He frowned at the coordinates and tapped in new ones. "Come

on, come on," he said, driving himself harder. "If I don't realign our entry

vector, we won't make the jump."

"And if we don't make the jump…" Marshall began.

"We die," Taggart finished.

"Have we reached the entry vector's point of no return yet?" Blair

asked. Once they hit the PNR, course adjustment would be a fond

memory.

"Not yet," Taggart said, throwing a toggle to automatically stabilize the

now-groaning transport. "She's reaching out for us. Hear that?"

The Diligent's hull protested much louder now, and through the

viewport, the gravity well appeared in all of its gluttonous furor. The ship's

thrusters whined as they fought to obey Taggart's course corrections. Still,

the well grew larger, more ominous, and the space distortions now seemed

more like gelatinous hands reaching incessantly into the cosmos. Blair

repressed a shiver.

Taggart took one look at the viewport and raised a hand. "Well, ladies,

meet Scylla, bane to sailors and monster of myth."

Marshall frowned at Blair, then regarded Taggart, his frown deepening.

"What's a Scylla?"

But Blair answered for Taggart. "Ulysses sailed between the whirlpool

Charybdis and the island monster Scylla. She snatched six of his men and

ate them."

"I didn't need to know that," Marshall moaned.

Shaking a finger at Scylla, Taggart said, "This beauty's got an even

bigger appetite. Hold on."

Blair got to the navigator's seat behind Taggart and Marshall. The

captain threw a pair of toggles, and a bank of afterburners kicked the

Diligent onto her side. Blair clung to the arms of his seat as the ship

continued to yaw and tremble like a piece of Los Angeles real estate. Every

seam and conduit in the old transport begged for relief. Within a few

seconds the tremors became so violent that Blair fell from his chair and

crashed to the wall that now served as the deck. He rolled over and spotted

Merlin, whose image shook so hard that it blurred. Marshall lost his grip

as well, and thumped to the floor beside Blair.

Still glued to his seat, Taggart continued adjusting the Diligent's

course. The transport slowly rolled upright, sending Blair and Marshall

sliding toward the true deck. As the ship finally balanced and artificial

gravity readjusted, Blair looked over Taggart's shoulder at the Heads Up

Display, which now showed a digital glide path that took them along

Scylla's perimeter, the course steady and true.

"Broken your grip, old girl," Taggart said, regarding an external camera

display that tracked the gravity well. "Better luck next time."

Blair stood and watched Taggart steer the ship along the glide path.

The Diligent now skipped closer to Scylla, avoiding her maw, but

nonetheless doing some serious flirting. Space wavered along the

starboard quarter.

Clearly, Marshall had a rough time comprehending the gravity well. He

stared at the external camera image, at the space distortion through the

viewport, at the glide path. And he began shaking his head. "This isn't a

normal gravity well. What the hell is this thing?"

"This thing is a distortion in space-time," Taggart explained. "Pilgrims

were the first to chart it."

"So why is it off-limits?" Marshall asked.

"Because it's unstable."

"And we're going to jump it?" Marshall mouthed to Blair, having a hard

time keeping his jaw closed.

A warning light flashed on the navigation computer, accompanied by a

rapid beeping. The HUD winked out. The Diligent suddenly listed to

starboard.

"Nav computer's off-line," Blair observed.

"It's the magnetic fields," Taggart said. "Blair. Take the helm."

Normal functions like breathing suddenly escaped Blair. "I've never

made a jump before."

Taggart cocked a brow. "Now would be a good time to learn." He

rushed toward the hatchway.

"Guess we both know what he's about," Marshall said softly. "He's

about getting us killed."

Blair ignored that, focusing instead on the vortex as it now shifted to

the center viewport. Without the nav computer's assistance, the Diligent

would return to the previous course, and Blair, Marshall, and Taggart

would learn the mysteries of the afterlife, free of charge.

Near the hatchway, Taggart had pulled off a maintenance panel and

now considered the exposed intricacy of wires. He pulled out a pair of

protein processing chips, studied them a moment, then tossed them over

his shoulder. He opened another panel and withdrew fresh chips.

The gravity well now dominated all viewports, a malevolent queen at

her banquet table. A pair of discarded O2 canisters collided and exploded

on their way into her stomach. Asteroids spun and broke apart, leaving

trails of themselves across the whirlpool. Even a comet had strayed too

close to Scylla's amorous arms and now painted an even streak across the

watery blur of her physique.

A proximity alarm blared, and a digital countdown at Marshall's

station read 9, 8, 7—

"Uh, Captain?" Marshall called out.

"What?"

"Five seconds to jump."

"So?"

"So if you don't get the nav computer back on line, this unstable gravity

well is going to pull us in—one molecule at a time.