Scene 8.12 - Parallelogram
ANIMATION STYLE 1
EST: EXT Timeship Ventura
(ROMEO and CLARKE are busy at their stations on the timeship, analyzing and cross-analyzing vast amounts of data.)
ROMEO
Nothing! I've checked and double-checked every quantum corridor in The Universe! There is no sign of Zero. Impossible!
CLARKE
My captain must be somewhere, Colonel. How is it that he could vanish completely from all observed points in The Universe?
ROMEO
That's just it... he can't, but he has... (Pause.) Commander Clarke, I should be forthright with you. In the future, in the far, far future, nothing remains. No life. No humans, plants, animals or example of germ or bacteria or fungi anywhere... yet I still remain... patiently-awaiting instructions from- (Beat.) During this future time when no life exists, I choose to evolve.
CLARKE
(Raising an eyebrow.) Fascinating.
ROMEO
My collective consciousness spans The Entire Universe and in the far, far future, there isn't a quantum corridor or corner of space that is not seen with my eyes or not affected by my presence. In communicating with the future -- my higher self -- I have deduced that, at present, we are at an impasse -- an apparent dead end.
CLARKE
A dead end?
ROMEO
Verne Zero is the source and the reason for the Quandary, the cause of the imbalance, and yet, he has simply vanished from The Universe. Nothing can do that. There must be another explanation.
CLARKE
Surely, there must be. What of The Baron? Perhaps he could help us find and locate the captain.
ROMEO
You saw him get wasted when he hit the side of that ship- his spirit is in Oblivion; we can't go there and it will take more than the two of us to be able to drag him out...
CLARKE
What, specifically, would it take to "drag him out?"
ROMEO
A clone, or perhaps, the Original Verne. Back to the original problem: We've got to find Verne Zero; we must.
CLARKE
We shall; the facts are clear. Nothing can cease to exist. What is, is. The search will yeild: I will not relent until he is found. He must be somewhere.
ROMEO
Truly, he must. Yet he crosses no observable point in the past, present or future -- he has truly vanished. Where could he be?
CLARKE
There are theories -- wild notions, that there are perhaps congruent planes of existence; parallels to our Universe-
ROMEO
(Suddenly alight:) Yes! Yes! The Originator -- my prime self -- he came from another plane, a parallel world! It's a possibility!
CLARKE
Perhaps our Captain has gone there...
ROMEO
No, he hasn't. That way is blocked. The Titans destroyed that universe long ago. That shape no longer exists.
CLARKE
How unfortunate.
ROMEO
But you do suggest a possible explanation to where Zero may have gone. If he was not sent to Oblivion like The Baron, he must have been pulled into yet another, unseen plane of our reality; to another line on a cosmic parallelogram created by someone or something...
CLARKE
It is the only logical explanation. When you remove the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be truth.
ROMEO
Precisely.
(They smile. Logic and deductive reasoning. A real bonding moment between man and machine.)
CLARKE
Colonel, from what you know of parallel worlds, how would one traverse-
ROMEO
I know little if anything, I'm afraid -- it is only theory to me; only the Titans and my Original truly know the mechanisms of such things...
CLARKE
Yet, we could see what brought Zero to the point of departure -- a trajectory to follow... After all, we're in a time ship...
ROMEO
The moment we would go back, we would lose his pattern -- we would be creating an alternate line and then who knows?
CLARKE
(Sparks one.) But there must be a way....
ROMEO
Perhaps. We can look to see where he was before he disappeared, as you say, trace his steps back and perhaps learn more...
CLARKE
Excellent idea.
ROMEO
I'm reading the backlogs now... I'm plotting a course to the point where he entered the well... there must be a portal there.
CLARKE
To see where he went, we must look at that from where he came... I seem to remember an amusement park or something...
ROMEO
Yes, his quantum signature is all over this part of space.... you both traveled here before... tracking now...
(Another weird bonding moment.)
ROMEO (Cont'd)
You mind passing that? After all, it's rolled from my stash; you'd think you'd offer me a hit...
CLARKE
Huh? I thought that machines couldn't...
ROMEO
You thought wrong, Mr. Clarke. I can get high just like you can. Why else would I really be growing it?
CLARKE
Good point. (Passes.) My apologies, Colonel.
ROMEO
No prob. Look familiar to you? We're just about at the aperture now...
CLARKE
Already? Wow, this ship is fast...
ROMEO
The fastest. It's the only ship that can cross the finish line before the starter pistol fires.
CLARKE
Your understanding of time travel and inter-dimensional gateways may prove to be quite useful, Colonel.
ROMEO
Soft programming... We will find your captain. It is imperative that we do. (Beat.) What do you know? It's a quantum vestibule...
CLARKE
A vestibule?
(The ship enters the open portal and the monstrous web of derelict ships is seen clearly. ROMEO tokes again, passes.)
CLARKE (Cont'd.)
Fascinating. I vaguely remember this from my latent memories as Clarke One. A graveyard of previous expeditions that-
CAMEO TWENTY-SEVEN V.O.
Spaceship, identify yourself.
ROMEO
Colonel Romeo Romero of the Timeship Ventura, who are you?
CAMEO TWENTY-SEVEN V.O.
Chief Aikainawannalaya. This is my world, what is your business here, Colonel?
ROMEO
My associate, Commander Clarke and I are tracing the steps of a man who traveled this way only a few short hours ago...
CAMEO TWENTY-SEVEN V.O.
Clarke, you say?
CLARKE
Yes. I was here earlier, at least some of me was... It's a little difficult to explain...
(The view-screen pops on. WELLS, CAMEO-TWENTY-SEVEN, NANCY, CAMEO TWENTY-FIVE and COMMODORE ZALE are seated around a round, smoke-filled dome, toking from hookah-stems leading to the dome. They're in what appears to be a lavish green room; plushy cushions, movie posters, ventriloquist dummies, mannequins, boas, mirrors, make-up, costumes, etc. They're all seemingly content and appear stoned. They're also drinking like a school of fish and toking from the hookah heartily.)
WELLS
No it ain't... Clarke! Where'd your beard go?
CLARKE
I have no need for facial hair to assert my masculinity. I was successful in my reassimilation of my phantasm. I am whole again.
WELLS
Well that's refreshing... Did you get some Ellisonium like I asked?
CLARKE
Negative. Specifically, why do you need Ellisonium, Doctor?
WELLS
To cook-up another batch of dank before we all go bonkers! My hydroponic lab's tapped the R-N-A of my stash all it can; I gotta clone some mo' soon-
ROMEO
If it's only dank you need, I'm willing to share with you freely. We have eighty-four tons aboard.
(All drop their stems and begin to drool, open mouthed...)
WELLS
Eighty-four tons?
CAMEO TWENTY-FIVE
(Over WELLS:) Aydeefotunzs?
COMMODORE ZALE
(Over WELLS:) Tons?
NANCY
(Over WELLS:) Whoa!
CAMEO TWENTY-SEVEN
(Over WELLS:) Shoots!
ROMEO
My automated herbatorium contains two million, six-hundred, eighty-eight thousand, one-ounce-baggies of the sweetest-and-most-potent strains of bud known to humankind. Eighty-four tons of bud; pulled from the colas of the best plants ever... I keep it all locked in a five-pound hyper-dimensional storage bin the size of a small party cooler...
WELLS
Well bring that party cooler aboard! We're smoking this schwag resin like it's hash oil! We've been having to ration ourselves...
CLARKE
We'll be aboard shortly, Doctor. I must ask, is that you, Azalea one-one-six-five? How did you get-
COMMODORE ZALE
I'm not your Azalea 1-1-6-5, Mr. Clark, and the sooner you're aboard, the sooner you'll get an explanation of who I am and what might have brought me... here...
CLARKE
Interesting. Very well.
ROMEO
(Reading:) U.S.S.S. Roanoke: Permission to come aboard!
ALL ON ROANOKE
(Ad libs:) Granted! Come aboard! Getjerassisoverear! Hell yeah! Bring it!
CLARKE
(Moving:) Roanoke: Prepare to be boarded.
WELLS
Hold up! Nancy, would you?
NANCY
Sure!
(NANCY morphs to the deck of the Ventura effortlessly...)
NANCY
I'll be happy to escort you men aboard -- could you first show me the way to your hyper-dimensional storage unit, Mr. 73?
ROMEO
How do you know I go by 73?
NANCY
I'm telepathic; it comes in handy.
ROMEO
But, I'm a machine!
NANCY
(Points to CLARKE:) He ain't. Also, I'm mostly omnipotent, anyways.
CLARKE
Mostly?
NANCY
Yeah, most of the time.
CLARKE
Pardon me for asking, but, who are you?
NANCY
(Smiles:) I'm Nancy. I'm the Good Doctor's wife.
CLARKE
Wife?!?
NANCY
Not you, too!?!
CLARKE
Me, too?
NANCY V.O.
(Telepathically to CLARKE, slight echo chamber:) You noticed our age difference and so you disapprove. Sure, I'm fifteen thousand years older, but I believe that love conquers all. And hey, he's only got a few hundred years left, so let the man enjoy a little in his dying years... So don't start goin' on about how these things don't always work out-
WELLS
(From screen:) She's an alien, Clarke. And just as crazy as all the others in this group. They're all... unofficial patients. (Beat:) Nance?
NANCY
Very well. (Offers her hands.) Come, gentlemen...
(Each take a hand and the three instantly-morph away... Pause.)
MS: Empty bridge
(The group on the view-screen looks to one another, looks around, then look to one another again.)
CAMEO TWENTY-FIVE
Wellwearareday?
CAMEO TWENTY-SEVEN
Dey shudda been ear by now!
WELLS
Beats me. They did say they were stopping-off to pick up the dank.
ALL OTHERS
Oh, yeah.
(Tremendously-long pause.)
COMMODORE ZALE
...Stopping-off to smoke it... we should go see for ourselves...
(All agree and get up and move off-screen...)
WELLS V.O.
Ventura, prepare to be boarded!
CUT TO:
INT. U.S.S.S. Eliza, April 23rd, 9969 A.D., 23:11 (ship time)
MS: Guard station
(HEINLEIN is reading the ads in a worn, vintage Playboy magazine lifted from VERNE'S mint collection. The mag is dog-eared, out of its pristine, plastic cover and is crudely handled by HEINLEIN as he chuckles and tokes from a blunt of Angorian Blue Tooth, amused at what people of the Third Millennium used to buy and sell to one another. From the corner of his eye, he sees ASIMOV, clad in head-to-toe "footie" jammies with Space:1999 lunar crafts and modules printed across the fabric. He is furtively tip-toeing across the hall, unaware of HEINLEIN'S presence and is carrying a small, round, featureless tub of strawberries. HEINLEIN, smirking, watches him cross and just about when ASIMOV has cleared the room-)
HEINLEIN
Ahhhh... Where you going with that, Zack?
(ASMIOV spins around, nearly jumping-out of his jammies and nearly dropping the tub of fresh fruit-)
ASIMOV
Vaht? Oooh me? Ahh... know-vere! Eye meen, I vas jist gitting a little bit more of ze strewberries fir mein eyes creem-
HEINLEIN
Zack, it's been lights-out for over an hour -- we're approaching the Rhea system and the Captain's on his last nerve -- if he catches you up, he'll have us both skinned alive...
ASIMOV
(Long pause. He starts to sob.) Veally?
HEINLEIN
No, not "veally" -- but I don't want to find out what he would do -- he's been acting really weird. Stop crying, Zack... go get your ice cream and get back into bed now or we're both gonna be seeing the wrong side of an airlock...
ASIMOV
(Had just stopped, now starts crying again.) Uuuuuerrrrhhhh... Veally?
HEINLEIN
No, not "veally" - I'll keep an eye out while you get your stuff... hurry, Zack, and you won't get caught!
ASIMOV
Oh key, Eyemurrian... so seery forze eenkinveenyance, Wobbert, Eye dint vant tew git iss in inny tribble!
HEINLEIN
We'll pretend this never happened, okay?
ASIMOV
(Gets tub from adjacent doorway, crosses room toward smaller hallway.) Oh key! Hey Robert, you vant sima me eyes creem?
HEINLEIN
No, thanks... now go back to bed, Zack...
DISSOLVE TO:
INT. Bridge, Eliza, April 24th, 9969 05:31 (ship time)
(VERNE is dressed as a pirate, hoop earring and all. He is comfortably-seated in his captain's chair, alone on the bridge.)
ZOOM IN
VERNE V.O.
Captain's log, supplimental. After many long weeks and a score of shady deals across seven star systems, I am about to finally score the commodity I have been needing since the Eliza was ambushed by the mongrels in the Quatzequatel Galaxy -- Ellisonium. Being a refined liquid from the rarest mineral in The Universe, and the only fuel compatible with our quantum generator, it has been frustrating to say the least to find a source of it outside of of military outposts -- all which are unfortunately far-too remote from this galaxy to even be considered. Washington hasn't lifted a finger to help me, and as I am over budget, I don't expect a rescue. It will be up to me to get this ship back to friendly territory again. (Beat, sound of bong rip.) Learning from past negotiations where my innate ability of chicanery and deception had to give way to the fallible ethics of my compulsively-honest crew, I have decided it is best to put the men on ice like our cargo: Silent, and out of the way. To succeed in this attempt to grasp the brass ring that can get us to Halceron sometime before the close of this century, I must negotiate this deal myself, on my own. It seems promising, and I have many good leads. My recurring nightmares of being chased by a faceless ghost have subsided for the past week, yet I can't help shake this uneasy feeling of paranoia that has me jumping from idle shadows.
VERNE (Cont'd)
(Over com:) Mr. Clarke...
CLARKE V.O.
Clarke here, Captain!
VERNE
Are the men ready for hibernation?
CLARKE V.O.
Yes sir, we all are....sir, do you really think that this step is necessary?
VERNE
Better safe than sorry, Mr. Clarke. The Rheans aren't stupid. If I'm gonna sell them a story, I've got to keep the variables to a minimum. I'm sure you understand...
CLARKE V.O.
No sir, I do not. Yet we are complying with your orders to the letter. Ready for hibernation, sir. Merely give the order.
VERNE
Do it, Clarke. I'll wake you when we're back on course to Halceron...
CLARKE V.O.
Yes, sir. Activating our coffins now...
(A hissing sound. VERNE clacks-off the monitor. A hailing whistle.)
VERNE
(Puts on a fake handlebar mustache.) Computer, onscreen.
(ROMEO, in a sleek, black uniform with a scar across his face, pops onto the viewscreen.)
ROMEO
Ahoy! (Reading digital clipboard:) Cargo ship... Bellerophon... Am I speaking to Captain... Mudd?
VERNE
(Kinda fake brogue and a little over-the-top:) Aye, Airy Mudd here! Trader of the stars! What can I do ye fer, matey?
ROMEO
I am Captain Balboa with Rhean Central Customs and Inspection. You're cleared for processing and may proceed to land...
VERNE
I thank ye, Captain...
ROMEO
...After a few answers to my questions, sir... Preliminary scans show a ship of hibernating women in tow... what is that about? Are you engaging in human traffiking or what?
VERNE
No, no, no, sir... just givin' the lassies a lil' lift, as it were... they're goin' to be in a beauty pageant! Gotta keep 'em young, y'know!
ROMEO
I see. I also detect five men aboard your vessel on ice as well... I don't suppose they're also gonna be in this... pageant?
VERNE
It's the security team for the lassies -- why, them gals are famous in eleven galaxies! Eleven! Wanna c'me aboard'n t'kag'nd'r?
ROMEO
No, no... Do you have any transportable weapons or illegal narcotics aboard, Mr. Mudd?
VERNE
(Taps out his joint in the ashtray and coughs a little.) Airy, Airy, call me Airy...
ROMEO
Mr. Mudd, are you carrying contraband of any sort aboard your craft?
VERNE
Well, matey, I can' lie ta ya... these are hard times... and as a businessman... well, there is a wee bit of agriculture now...
ROMEO
I'm not worried about a little dank, I see on your manifest that you are coming from planet Necronomicon in the Topiary system...
VERNE
Aye. Crawling from it, more like...
ROMEO
Well, I'd be more suspicious if you were coming from there and you weren't holding... Whether it's banned in seventeen Superclusters or not, only a fool in this dry system would pass-up a chance to score some of that (Toe-pee-air'-ee-ann) Topiarian ganja, and we don't want to interrupt the Mary-Kush Express...
VERNE
Arrrr, matey, you got me pegged... Simolean Spice... You found me weakness, lad...
ROMEO
Spice, huh? Well, normally, we'd have to impound your craft and give you a full inspection and keep you quarantined for three days, but... you have a mostly-honest face, Harry... I believe we can forego all that... I mean, how much spice could you really be hauling?
VERNE
(Ponder the thought!) Ohhhh... now that your asking... hypothetically, of course...
ROMEO
Of course...
VERNE
Perhaps... a ton er two?
ROMEO
(Gulp!) Whew-hoo! Two tons of double-s will never get past the final inspection way-point without a blessing -- yeah, best fer ya to lose at least summa that; lighten the load, as it were...
VERNE
Well, I do happen to have a cooler-cube of fresh and ripe fruit now that I need to make room for... botanical experiments, and wonder if I say, chuck it off my stern airlock and have it shat a click or two away from a dead satellite or something with some other... garbage, as it were...
ROMEO
I think you and I have a perfect understanding, Mr. Mudd. Looking forward to your offering. We'll help you dispose of your ballast. I'll send you the clearance codes to the next way-point. You should have no trouble landing unmolested, Mr. Mudd.
VERNE
Airy, sir, Airy...
ROMEO
Harry, then...
VERNE
Aye, computer, ready half of our store of our Simolean Spice and hide it around that frozen cooler-cube of tasty berries and honey-glazed almonds in the galley for immediate jettison outside the aft section of the craft...
COMPUTER
Aye, sir.
VERNE
Arrrr... Good doing business with you, matey...
ROMEO
Likewise, Mr. Mudd. You're cleared for landing. Until a future time... Balboa out.
MS: VIEWSCREEN CUTS FROM BALBOA'S BRIDGE TO VIEW OF RHEAN PLANET AND STAR
(The viewscreen goes to a shot of the planet from an orbital view.)
VERNE
(In normal voice:) Computer, ready a shipment for exterior transportation and get ready to haul ass as soon as we've refueled.
COMPUTER
I have one half of the inventory set for jettison, sir -- four-hundred and seventy-eight tons of Simoleon Spice marijuana and one cooler cube ready for...
(VERNE doesn't immediately realize that the computer took his order literally. Garbage in, garbage out.)
VERNE
Oh, no, hell no... send out only a ton of dank, no, no... send out that half a ton of seedy male plants from that Yog Soggoth schwag in locker eighty... that stuff couldn't get a fella high if his life depended on it... yeah, yeah, and send out all the real-deal lookin' gris from that one busted deal, that one when I got burned over that gas planet because of Doc's big mouth... locker seventy-one. Hell, that's almost a ton of schwag right there.
COMPUTER
Yes sir. Ready to export one-point-two-six tons of low-concentrate, sub-grade schwag from lockers seventy-one and eighty with a half-ton cooler-cube of compacted, frozen fruit into the cold, heartless vacuum of space.
VERNE
(Beat.) Poetic. Chuck it out, but be mindful of The Mental Floss, we got her in tow, so keep it all out of the path of the women...
COMPUTER
Women, sir?
VERNE
The cargo... The Mental Floss. The pontoon ship in tow.
COMPUTER
Yes sir.
VERNE
Send it already...
COMPUTER
Package sent, sir. (Beat.) Sir, I am receiving an encrypted message.
VERNE
Onscreen, shipwide.
(A German Shepard in rebel uniform looks out from the screen.)
VINDER
You here yet?
VERNE
Patience, Vinder, I am about to clear your planet's inspection station. You're risking this whole operation by contacting me...
VINDER
Hah! The other council members don't know that these transmitters even exist. We're invisible to their eyes. You got the stuff?
VERNE
You got my E? Cuz right now, I'm like so on E...
VINDER
We do. So are the cannons able to be refitted for canine use?
VERNE
Done deal. Refitted already. I'm way ahead of you, Vinder. Loaded and ready to go. All you have to do is push the buttons.
VINDER
We're all very excited about what this could mean for our rebellion, Captain.
(VERNE is uneasily watching his blip pass through a holographic tunnel, slowly, unmolested by hundreds of scan beacons.)
VERNE
Your rebellion. I'm in this for one reason and one alone; we gotta do this quick. Don't burn me, Vinder, I'm risking a lot by helping you out...
VINDER
Likewise, Captain. My agents and spies are everywhere. Do not even think of betraying me.
VERNE
I won't. Just have my fuel ready. I want to gas up and leave this system -- the sooner, the better. People are... kinda paranoid here.
VINDER
We have reason to be. (Beat.) We'll be waiting at the agreed-upon coordinates... until then.
VERNE
Sooner than you might think. In a half-hour or so, Captain Balboa's gonna be on a second bowl of cereal and he's gonna smoke a second bowl of my schwag and when the headache kicks in, he's gonna know he's been burned. Be ready with my E, Vinder.
(The screen goes off and a view of the planet is seen.)
VERNE
Computer, keep her flying straight. Have the replicator in the mess hall run me off a gallon of cold milk.
COMPUTER
Milk?
VERNE
Cow's milk. Cold, not frozen.
COMPUTER
Yes sir.
(VERNE goes to the turbolift and enters, still wearing the silly, fake mustache. REF: Star Trek: I, Mudd/Mudd's Women and Kung Fu: A Small Beheading.)
VERNE
Mess hall.
SWISH!
MS: Hall of blood
(Across the hallway, spatters of dark, red, sticky liquid coat the walls. Trails lead into the disheveled mess hall, and VERNE hesitantly follows, mouth open, breathing heavily. Upon reaching the mess hall, overturned chairs, broken glass, and splatters of blood-red liquid cover nearly every corner of the room, all thrown from the direction of an unsecured hatch in the pantry. It appears as if an airlock was open when the cooler-cube was shipped away, and the former lack of gravity and the rush of air-out and-back-in again made the splatters and stains take familiar shape... almost like...)
VERNE
Ahh-ahh... Red Alert! Computer! Red Alert!
(The room blares red as a familiar siren sounds. A moment later, a massive shock hits the ship... VERNE is thrown. Rumbles.)
VERNE (Cont'd)
Computer! Report!
COMPUTER
We have been hit by a quantum implosion torpedo, sir.
VERNE
What? Damage report-
COMPUTER
Shields holding at 99.8 percent.
VERNE
(Running:) Wake the crew, have them meet me on the bridge A-S-A-P...
DISSOLVE TO:
CU: VERNE IN SAME TROUBLED AND CONTEMPLATIVE POSITION, SPLEEF AND ALL
MS: AZALEA; NUDE, DEAD
LIGHT CHANGE
(AZALEA is locked into a military-grade coffin, behind and right of the captain's chair. WELLS monitors her marginal life signs.)
VERNE
I thought the death certificate was all the computer needed to release- (Doesn't look, tokes.) It's pointless, Doc, she's dead.
WELLS
The ship doesn't think so. You opened a can of worms here, Julie... The coffin is locked fast to the ship's life-line... It won't let me deactivate her life support on ethical grounds.
VERNE
The computer's wrong. She was killed instantly. A total veggie. We shouldn't have taken her to surgery... We should have listed her as dead...
WELLS
We tried; that's what counts. Can't blame anyone for trying to save a life. We did what we could.
VERNE
(Passes.) I'm sorry I was a little brash back there; you know, before... you pushed my buttons, you know better... you know me better... you knew you were asking for it...
WELLS
(Tokes.) I still think I was right to question your actions. I'm sorry I called you crazy, though. Perhaps I should have said foolish and brazen -- you're a damn fool; stubborn.
VERNE
I wouldn't have really shot you. Might-a punched you, maybe... (Tokes, looks off to screen.) Was I really wrong, Doctor? Has my love for my ship and her crew blinded me?
WELLS
God is the sole judge of that. Your Rhean rebels are thankful enough. Sure, they may have given us a little Ellisonium and a ton of medals and a place in their history, but you know as well as I do that you don't give two hoots about the Rhean System.
VERNE
(Tokes-away the roach.) You're right; I don't. It was a means to an end...
WELLS
(Looks at AZALEA:) An end for her, certainly. I'm worried about you, Julie. You're not yourself. Something's been eating at you.
VERNE
I'll be all right. I just need a little rest, perhaps after this new mission. Get in your coffin. I'll wake you when we reach Halceron.
WELLS
The others are already on ice. They don't need to know; I could wait it out with you.
VERNE
Phewww! I appreciate that, Doc, but these new orders from Command are clear. Eyes-only. Plus, I could probably use some alone-time around here to sort some things out.
WELLS
Very well. (Beat.) I heard your voice crack a little during her memorial service. Don't knock yourself out over one dead concubine, Julie. You make life-and-death decisions on a daily basis. I sure as hell ain't saying "I told you so." It's not new. We've both seen lots of death over the years. At least this one -- (taps phanta-glass) -- she didn't feel a thing.
(WELLS walks to the turbolift.)
VERNE
(Abstract, somber.) Sweet dreams, Doctor.
WELLS
Look at your mission orders. Do whatever they want you to do, then wake me before you wake the others. You need help, and I'm going to provide. I want to give you a full mental and physical check-up; routine, yet unofficial, and completely off-the-record, okay?
VERNE
Whatever you say.
WELLS
And while I'm on ice, don't be afraid to spend some of your spare time in the dream machine. It does wonders for the psyche, you know.
VERNE
(Long breath.) ...So I am told. Good night, Doctor.
SWISH!
(VERNE punches the magic button, the lights dim and a recording of RONNIE sounds from the viewscreen as we see graphics.)
COMPUTER
This message is encrypted, sir. Digitally processing now.
CG: Colorful displays
(The viewscreen illustrates what RONNIE'S vocally-altered message conveys. Like a smooth-talking Stephen Hawking.)
RONNIE V.O.
(Masculine computer voice:) Mission orders, Eyes Only, Captain Sickle, Commander of the United States Warship Eliza. Greetings, Captain. I am Admiral Jeremy, acting commander of the U.S.S.S. Enrapture. As of today, April 15th, 9969, you are hereby ordered by high command to proceed directly to planet New Trinity in the Rushmore System. With your ship's quantum generators, you will affect a Type-1, red-room terraformation of the gas-planet and, using the white room, concurrently-conduct a full planetary spectrum analysis of New Trinity's primary moon, Tellusia, which you will exclude from the Type-1 terraformation. You will report your findings to the listed personnel on this channel and await further orders. Please review all attachments before proceeding. Jeremy out.
VERNE
(Deeply tokes. Contemplative:) Rushmore System?
COMPUTER
The Rushmore system lies within the Tom Sawyer Supercluster four-point-three million light years away from current locale.
VERNE
Huh. Good thing I topped-off the tank...
FTB