The Great Space Race [5 acts] "OF THE 21ST CENTURY"

"THE GREAT SPACE RACE"

-OF THE 21ST CENTURY-

Story and screenplay by

Raymond Kenneth Petry

(Based on the USA NASA Shuttle-X configuration)

Sesquatercet@Lanthus.net
% Honolulu HI 96830-7250

Reg. # WS-7GSPRACE-1 (2014 Lanthus Corporation Registrar)

FADE IN:

ESTABLISHING SHOT - SHEIK'S PALACE - BUBIYAN MINOR - MIDDAY

TWO-STORY HUGE: a 'space-launchy' minaret on the grounds; a muezzin on high summons to prayer: "Allah…Akbar…!" (AD INF)

None else anywhere… except--

V.O. KEYBOARD PUCK… PUCK… PUCK… PUCK… PUCK… (AD INF)

Coming from WITHIN THE OUTER PILLAR-WALL: ZOOM IN--

INT. OFFICE LOGGIA - 2ND-FLOOR - DAYLIT

IN ARABIC - English captions in arabesque caricature-scrawl

Cute little Arab boy HAMMED types his Dear-Mommy-loveletter at Windpanes Wordslab 99 on Daddy's PC on a writing desk in the midst of the spacious column-perimetered exterior room:

KEYBOARD PUCK… PUCK… PUCK… PUCK… PUCK…

STOPS. Rereads his screenpage. And--

CLICKS THE Diskette icon--

"SAVING FILE TO: c:\hammed.exe"

PC SYSTEM CRASHES-- to black…!

AIR RAID SIRENS WHOOP-UP…!

AIRFORCE JETS SHRIEK-BY into the sky, PC reboots…

ROYAL GUARDS RUSH IN, arms drawn, and confront--

Hammed.

SHEIK ALFASETI flows in, a stern neo-Arabian oil-smirker.

(explains points)
I clicked on the diskette, Daddy: to save my E-letter to Mommy…

Alfaseti examines the PC rebooted up running again:

CLICKS THE Diskette icon--

"SAVING FILE TO: c:\hammed.exe"

PC SYSTEM CRASHES-- to black…!

Air Raid Sirens still going…

MORE JETS shriek-by…

Alfaseti piques CRIMSON…

MORE GUARDS, as fist-pumping air-sucking eyeball-juggling

(irate-on-irate 'oooeee')
I shall have Bill Flops' mountain oysters for breakfast on Holy Day--!

CUT TO:

INT. TV DAY NEWS STUDIO - ANCHOR DESK "ON AIR" - (NEXT DAY)

IN ENGLISH

INSET: [A cheery Sheik Alfaseti visits the USA President]

ANCHORWOMAN, with men-dating interest, explains:

This morning, Sheik Al 'Face-eti' of Bubiyan Minor, in America for two days visiting with the President at the White House, publicly filed his civil class-action lawsuit against MegloSoft's founder Mr. Bill Flops: In a Meg-lo-Soft-worded statement submitted to Fiscal-trac-dot-com the Sheik explained, He, wants, one-hundred-million, dollars, from Mr. Flops', fledgling, monopoly, Or, he will have Mr. Flops' mountain oysters for breakfast…

CHOKED GUFFAWS-AND-CLEARINGS from Studio Personnel…

…for breakfast on holy-day… But… in separate correspondence with, this, News Reporter: His Press Secretary,: (leans CU: confides)
-who's this gorgeous, hunk- admits, privately, to a third, option-- He, says-- The Sheik will forgo, the hundred million…: (cloaked deep)
--and, the, mountain, oysters,--

MORE CHOKED Studio guffaws-and-clearings…

(SOTTO VOCE for -us-)
if, instead, -he confided:- If Mr. Flops, will concede, to a little…

CUT AWAY TO:

INT. FLOPS' MEGLOSOFT OFFICE - DAY (AS CONCLUDING)

Tall bespectacled secretary MARCIA informs her surprised-stunned funning computer mogul-nerd Corp-President, tall BILL FLOPS, of the impending threat from Sheik Alfaseti:

(as concluding)
…a little wager, for that same, hundred-million:-- If, you will accept his challenge to a Space Shuttle-to-moon race and back….

(thaws a beat: works out)
I, don't, buy, plan A:--: (whines)
Everybody knows a diskette can store potential giga-bytes… P-C's start-up on a diskette-- for crying out loud!: (calms)
B,-- I can do without B.

She chokes a guffaw-and-clearing…

(considers)
C… I can deal with C;-- Get me Payrol on the vid-link: I don't want to splurge a hundred-million without him seeing me virtually sign the digital-check.

She begins to exit,

(ponders loud)
Where did "Al, Fass-Eddy," get his billions--? He's only got, a dozen oil-wells in Bubiyan Minor!

(stays)
During the Persian Gulf conflict, he swung deals on both sides: He had prior contracts with Saddam's sons, to resell oil, low, to cover Saddam's complaint of being outbid. Then just before Hussein invaded Kuwait, Faseti built facades around his wellheads: painting them as U-S media corporate offices-- which Hussein's invaders avoided.

So that's, why, the news media was treated so well in Iraq:-- clev-er!

Four "old" wells, were left exposed, and destroyed… And, in reporting to American Staffing, he counted, All, his, "oiled," wells, as vandalized…

(nods, chuckling-up)
Clev-er…!

So he got help from us to rebuild his country,- plus administrative subsidies to sell what oil he could produce, -which was realistically, full, production,- plus he secretly expanded his contracts with Hussein to sell-through oil… but that's no longer available-- and he's hopping like snakes before an earthquake in the garden.

(big nods)
Okay:- We have to deal with him: He's bright --shrewd-- but bright: We can install all-new Jalousy Wind-Panes-20/20 Secure-System-Leveraging for him… as a mideast demonstrator….

(exiting busy)
One more thing: He wants to meet--: (and half out)
you and NASA in D.C. before launch.

(eyebrows)
Anxious, eh--?! Guess that's all right: Jet-setters do things like that: Encourages more Internet'ing…: (renews)
And e-mail Justice:-- Let them know: (grows a stealth grin)
what's afoot…

She leans head back inside-- and checks him--

(TWINKLES in the eyes)
/ And what's ahead…!

Sharing-the-big-grin…

CUT TO:

EXT. DUNE MOGULS - FOOTHILLS, PERSIAN RANGE - DAY

Alfaseti and his Secretary-AIDE (Arab hunk), sun-goggled, arab capes flapping, poling, unweighting: sand-skiing…

JUMP--

SLO MO: Sand-ski bottom-brand is "Teflon Presidents"…

ZOOM OUT: They stop on a bluff… peer-out across the dunes, oil derricks, mirages… below a snow-capped mountain ridge.

ZOOM IN: Their dusty faces; They remove their sun-goggles;

TRANSITION: Hold on Alfaseti's royal sheik-face (CU)--

INT. BAIKONUR COSMODROME - (LENINSK) KAZAKHSTAN - DAY

IN RUSSIAN ACCENT - captions in caricature Cyrillic

CU: Sheik-face Alfaseti contracts oil for a space shuttle mission, with four RUSSIAN TECHNOCRATS and the city MAYOR:

(a royal beat, cajoles)
… two hundred million U.S. dollars, market rate, for five days, four nights, on your space shuttle… twice what the Americans charge per-launch: Who pays you like that in Russia?

(dour)
The Americans have fully-subsidized government space launches. Russia,… things cost more: We economize, Buy and sell, Government surplus: We are very commercial, here.

(a setup grin)
Insurance, taxes, launch fees, moon-fuel… all included…

(dour)
The Ptichka 1-0-2 is the only Buran space shuttle we have left: You are not going to crash it, or anything?

(shocked)
Who's alive, around here?! This is me, Al-Fass-Eddy, shake-your-booty billionaire, oil-magnate, schemer… Crash, me? Don't be so blammatory!

Blammatory, is not a word.

You tell the Americans that: They, in-vented, the English language.

(dour)
We need something more substantial: We cannot accept that much money in Bubiyan Minor dinars. And we do not control U.S. dollars at this time:- maybe next year, after the U.S. war on flying-carpet-smuggling, lands.

(into setup)
Oil, hungh--? I, figured, you'd get around to the slicker-shock…. Okay: Here's the deal: I'll sell you, ten million barrels of premium Bubiyan Minor crude at 20-dollars-per right out of the head: Low sulfur, low gas: You've got to like it!

That is the going market price.

When you can get it.

(suspects)
Is it yours to sell?

(stinging grin)
Here's the sweet part: You'll pay me, in gold-certificate, rubles.

The Russians dove-head mutual challenge-and-denials…

You've been waiting years to unload those gold-certificates: If anyone suspected they were right here in Leninsk City, there'd be a scandal so hot, Siberia should melt down;-- but I can unload them for you.

(furtive)
What do you know about the Siberian meltdown?!

(caught misdirected)
Heh-- nothing-- really-- melt-down, is, American figure of speech;-- I meant a patty-melt: Yeh: We'll keep it all secret like a sandwich deal: And we won't tell anyone about our shuttle arrangement till it's time.

How do you know we have two hundred million in rubles, of any, kind, so to speak?

I wouldn't be selling you ten million barrels for any less,-- would I?

How are you going to spend, gold-certificate rubles, if you had any? They are hardly worth mentioning, in Russia: Nobody really remembers what they look like: They were one of the Soviet Union's technological quantum leaps….

I, just spend: That's what I do best: My private horde: I'll take a world-wind fling --my last days on Earth, so to speak-- and spend them altogether: There will be no cache of them left in my banks.

You can do this for us?

Yeh-- sure-- I can: It's not like I have too much free time on-hand.

The Russians HUDDLE--

(fist in palm)
We must adhere to the rules, or this democracy will never work!

(palm on fist)
We document the rules ourselves in this democracy!

(2-fingers)
There are two sides to every issue!

Rock-Paper-Sizzors: "Gotoviy? / Gotoviy! / Jan - Ken - Po!"

(scores-- to Alfaseti)
It is the deal: We buy the oil.

(whips-out cellphone)
O-kay! I'll phone home on my cell;- First shipment, is in two days!

The Russians nod, part, and EXEUNT; leaving his excitement…

(happy but annoyed)
I wish they'd learn a few lessons on international etiquette from impressed American dupes.

Turns to the daylight, keys his cellphone, and strolls…

A moment later his CELL CONNECTS; He schemes to launder--

(to cellphone)
Yes.: (a beat-- passphrase)
O-kay:-- Ruby, Poggles…: (beat-- annoyed)
Se-sa-me!: (sotto voce)
May Allah grant you 73-- virgins…: (lightens)
… yes… sounds good… okay!: (a beat-- orders)
Release plan A-plus: Two days, Be in port: The money tree shakes!: (2 disco shakes)
And book me two weeks open-jaws through Europe's high-tech world-trade centers: We're going on a big-eight sight-seeing hunt!: (a beat: sours)
No: Not the A-K-47's,-- Mujah!: (whines to Allah)
A little sand in his lambchops, and every elevator becomes an uprising!: (listens a beat-- grins)
Yup! We're taking the whole harem-- and, the kitty cat!: (smirks sotto voce)
… always gets the monkeys riled…

He strolls-on to EXIT…

CUT TO:

INT. OVAL OFFICE - WHITE HOUSE, WASHINGTON DC - EVENING LIT

On the desk are two conversation pieces: A polished wood- and jet-cut-aluminum block sign, reading, "An intelligent desk is / The sign of a cleaned mind. / Aplentium X"; And a transparent box encasing a silver pistol, its sign reading, "Go ahead and make my day!" and a button which when pushed, the box opens, the pistol rises, turns and fires a cap. The davenport is repositioned in front, and three tipsy gaudy female INTERN SILLIES, RUN CIRCUIT, Maypoling the room and the disheveled bubba-PRESIDENT mid davenport calling [Ross Payrol, eyes only] on the paper-bearded video-telephone--

Roose-baby: It's me--!: (TRIGGERS THE BOX)
President Up-you's-of-A.: (ribbon-draped)
Yeah, I'm at the White House: Where'd you'd thunk I'd been, this time af-ter'd dark…?! Wear white at night-- Hmmm!?

PISTOL CAP POPS--! He surrenders: They stumble, laughing…

He grabs a handful of passing ribbons and colored bra…

(resumes his call)
An-y-way,-- I've got business for y'all: A-propos-ition.: (airing the bra)
Ooops: Not that, drunk!… The Senate will have an indoor field-day…

CUT OVER TO:

INT. PAYROL'S TEXAS GOURMET KITCHEN - LIT (ZONE CONTINUOUS)

POV: ROSS PAYROL, executive little-squirt billionaire tycoon, is cooking with his preteen daughter DACY-DEAR OVERLAPPING SOMEWHAT, while left-earphoning the [President] (FILTERED) viewed in an upper corner of his VIDEO-GLASSES: (with party interaction, a grinning Silly, a stock image)

Dacy fingers down her computer instructions, for salad;

(roused)
Yes: It's big-- and hotter than New York, Waco, or, H-E-eleven!

(sipping a taste)
Mmmm: Yummy! We may have to buy-out Betty Crocker's cookbook.

No, way,-- I mean, forget, H-E-eleven: Y' can't spend y'r entire administrative 4-years mopin'bout, yellin' Fire-in-the-theater…!

(reading-checking 3 sec.)
I've broken the pieces of Romaine and Butterhead; and chopped the Escarole. Now, we toss the salad?

Let's add the dressing before tossing the salad.

Well, next term, is, next term: I c'n handle, a publical 'lection.

(big-sniffs the dressing)
This'll be a tossed-dressing salad.

Is that alright?

Sure.

CUT BACK TO:

OVAL OFFICE: Louder sillier partying; finger in his ear--

(buzzes)
Thank you for the relentmentation…: (half a beat)
Wooey! Where'd that-word come-from?

Put a lid on it, and shake it up.

Yeah…! Oh: the Space, Shuttle!

We'll fry those.

(bamboozled)
What--?! Who's talkin' at me--?! Is this a national security threat--?!

Mr. President, we are frying the small potatoes.

(piqued hot)
The small, potatoes! Is that, all?!

With the onions and green peppers!

(fast cools)
Right… Yummy;- Listen: Roose-baby: I want you, to take a ride, on the Uncle Sam-of-Am Nazah Spaceshuttle!

Are necessary plans already made?

(befuddled)
Yes? NASA's aeri-planes are already made… Nazah, Space Shuttle… Same, dif'renced.

Why do you want me, to go?

Well,- because,- I think it's your civic pride, and responsibility!

There's not much work in a vacuum.

America wasn't built on House-work, alone.

(a beat)
Can we avoid politics in the emptiness of outer space?

No, I'm the electee-- true enough… Listen-- Roose-baby: There's some, big, flap, goin' 'bout, 'bout goin' 'bout the moon backside, and back…: (half a beat)
Wooey! Did it again!- Some, Rhodes,

Two Sillies sit-hopping the length-- jump his lap…

(juggled)
Scholarship, That turned out to be!: (listening finger freed)
No: I don't know; And I don't know when I didn't know!- Do you want to go or not? It's like a free ride--! The only free ride you'll ever get from America, Roose-baby: So, Take a free ride!: (grins, listens, sobers)
Ungh-hungh!: (listens)
Ungh-hungh!: (listens)
It's only half a week vacate; and not too far from li'l Tax-as.: (listens)
Sure, Roose: Take yer dog, yer cat, yer rat-- yer wife, yer daughter…: (grins, listens, sobers)
No, I think y'r whales won't fit.

DISSOLVE TO:

EXT. TEXAS OIL WELL SITE - SODA CANTEEN MACHINES - DAY

POV: Payrol in clean oil fatigues, purveys, discussing the President's request with Dacy sitting on the vehicle hood, working her sewn-in LAPTOP-ON-A-SKIRT:

(to laptop)
Daddy: Do you really want to go to the moon? There's no oil up there!

(quiets)
How did you find that?

(points to URL)
I went to the C-I-A-dot-gov world-facts-center… They don't list, any oil or gas resources on the moon.

(erudites about)
Well, Dacy-dear… I've been, around the world… Freed government regime hostages… Saved world trade from bankruptcy… Ran for the U.S. Presidency… Created a whole new political party…: (a beat)
Two halves…: (a beat, to Dacy)
So long as you're not in danger, I'll do it for America.

But, Daddy: I want to go with you, to the moon, if you go!

TRANSITION from POV--

(concerned)
Well: It's safe-enough in the Space Shuttle… Safer than politics. I'll review your tradeoffs: Insuring one space passenger is expensive tripe: I'll retrustee your Preferred Stock shares to the board-of-directors' next-nearest-of-competition…

Can I bring my pet Dolphin-Roy?

Maybe. I'll ask the President: He seems to think whales are too much.

Dolphin-Roy can be very quiet:-- I just tell him, Don't inhale.

We'll see, Dacy-dear: It sounds tricky either way.

(a beat)
Can we launch from the Johnson Space Center in Houston?

Well, No: Florida's Cape Canaveral: Our Texas launch facility isn't big-enough for the Space Shuttle.: (more direct)
Is it important?

Oh, Florida just looks so far away! We should include a visit to the Disney World if we go there.

You went just last summer.

Yes-- I know.: (beat)
Are there any bigger attractions in Florida?

He's stymied.

(a beat-- switches)
Daddy: Are there computers on the moon?

Well-- if you mean, on the moon itself-- I don't think so-- NASA hasn't discovered any-- though they: (and begins to wander)
did leave a few early versions.

Do you think Santa Claus will retrieve them?

She shuts her laptop, slides down, and follows;

Well: I don't know, Dacy-dear: The moon is a pretty big place-- Maybe not so pretty-- But big-- Bigger than America.

(ponders)
Bigger than America.: (a beat)
Does the President go to the moon for Christmas?

(smirks)
I've never asked him such an intimate question, Dacy-dear.

(2 beats)
Can I decorate my bedroom?

CUT TO:

EXT.-INT. BIG CROWDED ITALIAN BAZAAR - DAY

COURSING THROUGH, CHAINED MONKEYS SCREAMING, Capes flowing, Alfaseti leading a bejeweled JAGUAR, 10-SHEIKS (munchkins), Aide, HAREM, big-spending $100M gold-certificate rubles for decor, air-furniture, gold-leaf tapestry, high-tech curios:

A JEWELRY BOUTIQUE:

Backs turned, the 10-Sheiks busy jabbering, load-up…

PISTOLS COCK as four POLICE OFFICERS REACH ARMS INTO VIEW--

(spaghetti-western gaudy)
Pole-ice--! Freeeeze!: (3 beats)
I said, Pole-Ice-Freeze! These guns are load,-ed!

BAZAAR QUIETS… 10-Sheiks turn, buzzing explanations--

Low--Dead…?

Load,-Ed.

Full.

Very happy.

Ready to rock-and-roll.

Guaranteed--Winners.

Optional accessories.

May explode.

(a full beat: smiles)
All-right, boys: The game is over.

10-Sheiks read price tags, And count their gold-certificate rubles (translucent golden superball-bouncy Zectron film), Officers watching, mouthing dumbfounded:

60 leers to one ruble this morning.

(cross-grab to a pile)
/ 10-thousand / 20-thousand / 30-thousand / 50-thousand / 70-thousand / 80-thousand / 90-thousand / 'Ten'ty-thousand / 1-hundred-20-thousand / 1-hundred-30-thousand / 1-hundred-50-thousand…

(a beat)
How much is that in leers?

(leers at him)
9-million.

They pay the Clerks their sum… And move-on--

(leaving relieved)
That was intense…!

(with him, awed)
And twenties…!

SUPERIMPOSE: NEWS-TICKER SHADOWS:

…RUBLE ROUSER DOES GOLD BRICKS…

…MARKET QUAKE SHEIKS OUT 10%…

…SHEIK RATTLES AND ROLLS WORLD…

…MARKET SUMP FOOLS GOLD RUBLE…

Meanwhile the Clerks check their suspect rubbery rubles before smiling Officers:--

(crumple-crumple test)
Gold-certificate?

And stretch-stretches one… it snaps-back.

And plunges eyes looking-through and about… BLINK-BLINKS.

(sniff test)
Gold!?: (bite-bite test)
Highway rubbery!

And dangles it at the ear and PLING-tests….

(hand-weighs a pile)
Gold, rubles--!?

And drop-tests that--

The stack bounces, wriggling, melting with perpetual lively energy… (Keep a developed segment of this for return-view.)

CUT AWAY TO:

INT. TV EVENING NEWS STUDIO - ANCHOR DESK "ON AIR" - LIT

INSET: [chasing Alfaseti, cat et al, in the busy bazaar]

Evening co-ANCHORS MAN and WOMAN--

… on his European shopping spree, a week now, was followed through the preemminent bazaars of deepest Italy, spending his horde-cache of hundreds of millions of gold-certificate rubles, like they were going out of style before sunset,-

INSET: [International Money Exchange ruble tumbling 10%]

(as continuing)
-which they did, a decade ago-… and upsetting the world economic trust: The International Monetary Exchange ruble dropped abruptly, late this afternoon when he was seen buying…

INSET: [Alfaseti tries a shiny camisole on a harem-girl]

… a rhodium-thread camisole for one million rubles…. Said one of his guest-sheiks: "I think there is going to be a deluge or flood of some proportions, but it depends."

INSET: [Italian street-speculators hawking bets]

(as continuing)
Italian speculators are worried the Sheik may be getting too old for this but the Sheik's Secretary-Aide says they're here for one more week and ready to double their spending.

INSET off: Newsroom b.g.

(grin includes anchorman)
And just to let you know: Stu, will have the Anchor Desk to himself for four days next week, while I'm away on a little, invited, world-class cruise… working hard, as always.

They smile, nod. And--

CUT TO:

INT. FLOPS OFFICE - PC SHUTTLE SIMULATOR - CURTAIN ON DAY

Flops is handy, busy piloting his PC simulation, steering, keying, while speaking general business with Marcia:

Ten percent is a real knee-knocker: Did they say it was all his fault?

Not specifically: But they leave no doubt they believe he majorly factored-in.

A pity… has Alfaseti made any comments on that? Is he going to quit early?

No. The evening report has his Aide reversing, saying they may back-off spending all their second hundred million: But he didn't hint any withdrawal from the race.

That's the sheik's breed, -I guess: A pole-vaulter with the guts to put his straw in the coconut and shake it all the way up.

(coyly)
Shall I put-out a company-memo to this effect, sir?

(smiles)
Ahhh, no: That won't be necessary, Marcia: Let's just watch for curves ahead: This sheik may be a shake shrewder than we think.

(EXITS)
A shrewder shaker: Yes, sir-- Park him next to the stewed'er, baker.

He continues-on, piloting his simulator…

CUT TO:

INT. BAIKONUR COSMODROME - EVENING LIT

The Technocrats, Mayor, frown at each other over Newspaper headlines: "SUSPECT COUNTERFEITS / DISSIDENT GOLD RUBLES"

Dumb.

Dumber.

Dumbest.

At least, we are not holding the rubles here, now.

Dumb.

Dumber.

Dumbest.

At least we're not under suspicion, for sourcing the gold-certificates.

Dumb.

Dumber.

Dumbest.

FADE TO:

INT. BIG RUSSIAN MAYOR'S OFFICE - ANOTHER CITY - DAY

Alfaseti contracts low to a consortium of nine MAYORS:

… ninety million barrels of premium Bubiyan crude at 19-dollars-per: 17-hundred-and-10 million dollars-- in your rubles-- good exchange: eh?

(puzzles)
… is one dollar under current market, the price 20-dollars--? Five percent less, a barrel?

(coyly apologizes)
Yeah, that's what I was thinking: I did such a messup knocking down the world-price on rubles with my fancy spending across Europe, I thought I should share the burden with you.

(headshakes disbelief)
We surely need the oil.

Mayors nod Yes.

Five percent saved, is five percent earned.

Cannot get a better price anywhere else right now, on devalued rubles.

Mayors nod Yes.

CUT TO:

INT. BAIKONUR COSMODROME - EVENING LIT

Technocrats, Mayor, in-tight, sweating, loosening neckties, breathing, whistling, read a Newspaper: The ruble is back!

(reading aloud)
/ Word is leak that Sheik Alfaseti quietly advantaged himself of ruble depression by contracting to sell ninety million barrels of oil, to nine Russian mayors, yesterday.: (whisper-whistles)
/ The ruble is bobbling back up to where it usually sits in the world.: (slap-slaps chest)
/ Nothing to be suspicious-about:: (open mouth to ceiling)
/ The Sheik's big-spend last week was flaring off his bank spigot,- not unusual for the Sheik's breed….
/ All thought he had blown a gasket when he challenged Bill Flops…. If, he is still daring, international race investors are calling shots 5-to-2 that the Sheik has not the intrepidity to fly outer space.

ENDING (VO) next scene--

VO, CUT TO:

EXT. NASA DESERT HILLS - VANDENBERG CALIFORNIA - MIDMORNING

The Sheik's Aide in arab cape, scanning the Shuttle launch facility by binoculars… locates them: Adjusts focus; and--

ZOOMS-IN: [preparation-meeting of Flops, Marcia, NASA]…

TRANSITION: Through binocular lens frame, to--

EXT. BELOW SHUTTLE-X - NEWLY-REOPENED LAUNCH FACILITY

Flops in his corporate windbreaker ("ALL LOADS / READ TO / MEGLOSOFT"), Marcia in her secretary-motifed jersey ("RUNS WITH / LETTER OPENER"), awed at the immense height of the Shuttle-X (4 SRB 150% ET), site-check with 5 NASA TECHS--

(fixedly peering up)
That must've taken one hock of a lot of moths' balls!

Techs choke guffaws to each other.

(still up)
Desert winds dried your tongues?

Techs choke guffaws.

They're technical people, Bill-- of a different department.

(high nods)
Mmmm--! Haaard-waaare.

Techs choke guffaws.

Something I never really clicked-on.

Techs choke guffaws.

(comes down)
I guess you're right, Marcia. Well!: (to Techs)
We're both rarin' to go: Soon as your Shuttle is cocked.

Techs choke guffaws.

Just give us two nods when you're ready to roll.

Techs choke guffaws.

Maybe you should just e-mail them, sir: They can print that out.

CUT TO:

INT. NASA BRIEFING - CANAVERAL FLORIDA - LIT (LATE MORNING)

The walls are posted with huge plots of moon-race path options: curly-Q's indicate not-a-good-path.

Five NASA ADMINS seancing as jewel-encrusted meditating bead-counting guru mediums in robes over business-suits, Payrol, Dacy, all eyes closed, holding hands around the table, intoning "mmooooonn", finalize a Shuttle-X launch over planets+moons-tarot-cards on big-layout flow-diagrams:

Admin#1 holds photocards, Shuttle, moon, to his forehead…

(4 beats-- and shakes No)
We really need something more substantial:-- This is NASA-taboo.

All release.

It's at the President's request.

We understand this, Ross: But we need something --anything-- to meet our US-Congress-mandated scientific technological prowess, Criticality One, criteria:-- We simply cannot launch a Shuttle without, pizzazz!

(a beat)
There's not much room left, with ninety tons of OMS-fuel packed in the payload bay for the moon-trip.: (points to second deck)
Four-days laundry for me and Dacy-dear goes in the lower left corner of the lower passenger deck.

This we are taking into account.

We should deliver a small package to the backside of the moon.

It mustn't slow us down: This is a race,-- not a relay, mission.

(quieter with shakes-No)
/ Backside Surveyor… is not ready.
/ Laser reflectometer… to where…?!
/ The spare Voyager-mankind plaque?
/ Thinfilm leaflets from the war in Iraqistan? / Nobody read those, how American Republicanism was going to find, Weapons of Moon-Destruction…: (All giggle a beat)
/ It was a thought!

They all shake No.

Daddy… How will we drop-off our laundry while we're at the moon?

Admins marvel--

(to each)
That, should make a boost for the entire space program when the next Clementine mission discovers water and, dirty laundry, on the moon!

(into diagrams)
We'll shelve the Shuttle's internal laundry-line equipment facility for this mission:-- Give you twice the: (wristwatch to forehead)
actual total laundry-payload!

(points Payrol to)
We'll build-in a space-grade carbo-fibe hamper on the lower deck-- here, next to the shower: Shouldn't cost more than fifty-thousand.

(up; drops-off outfit)
Got to go, gang: Late again for the A-A Rehab' Colloquium.: (grabs briefcase, EXITS)
Later, all.

(chastens)
I told you, you should wear your watch on your forehead regularly.

(quiet to Payrol, Dacy)
That's Astro-physics, Anonymous.

(bounces matched fingers)
Space-tees, Shuttle-napkins, never-soil U-S-flag undies, Apollo-Geo-moon-towels, E-T's-on-a-ropes,…

You've got one smart kid, there, Mr. Payrol!

(daddy-smiling at Dacy)
Yes, I think so.

Now, Ross: About this simultaneity of launch with three-times the bay payload mass… This is real tricky flight-profiling!

It's the only way we could ensure all three of us would go through with it.

Yes: We concede the vantage-- but the logistics have fried three super-P-C's already!

(builds to bemoan)
We've never launched Shuttles this way before:- It's a roller-coaster, all, the way up,- and around,- and around, - and away… and around, and back… and around… and down.

While Payrol and Dacy-dear share a look and a happy smile;

You'll join-up with the others, one and three-quarter orbits later,- at the earliest.

(relaxes)
Enough time for an eu'Ropean lunch.

CUT OVER TO:

INT. COSMODROME VERTICAL-SUCTION-WIND-TUNNEL ANTEROOM - LIT

Alfaseti, Aide, ready for a test-ride in goggles and arab capes, set the timer to 30 minutes;-- the MOTOR REVS-UP.

They heave-open the door… and sucked-in DISAPPEAR-1-2-UP…

THE DOOR SUCKS SHUT.

INT. - 30 FT. UP - LIT (AS CONTINUOUS)

Hovering-about, grimacing caped heroes in uproaring wind…

CUT OVER TO:

INT. THIRD ROOM DOWN THE HALL - LIT

The Technocrats, Mayor, learn the public Shuttle News:--

(reading)
… in today's business news-release announced his contract to purchase a ride on the Russian Buran at two hundred million U.S. dollars in rubles, is settled.

A FLOOR THUMP, three rooms away.

(continues)
Faseti says, He is elated with the agreement and ready as a peregrine to hawk his dire nemesis, Mr. Bill Flops of MegloSoft, to the moon,

A CEILING CRASH (three rooms away).

(finishes sentence)
… and back….: (2 beats expectant)
The race is on, he said….: (a beat expectant)
Meanwhile… the Stock Exchange has taken to the announcement with a flurry of trading on the floor:

A FLOOR THUMP.

(a beat, continues)
The ruble-money market, only last week climbing back from its doldrum following the Sheik's extravagant spending spree, today soared--: (2 beats expectant)
--to an all-time high:

A CEILING CRASH.

(a beat, continues)
… ten percent over typical prior to its slide weeks ago: Market buyers are ecstatic. His Press Secretary says, The Sheik was buying nice things for his moon-shuttle trip!

A FLOOR THUMP.

Alfaseti bursts-in totally windblown, goggles around his neck, carrying two big attaches of payment money--

(blusters-up smiling)
Hey-- guys!

(dour)
/ Hi. / Hello.

(slightly somber)
My Aide will be coming along just fine-- tomorrow-- so:: (elated again)
Are we ready to do a little serious thinking?!

(dour)
/ Sure. / Da.

He opens the cases on the table. They inspect and count…

(whispers to #2)
-Gold certificate?-

(a beat: holds one)
This is a gold-certificate, ruble.

(smiles)
One-hundred million dollars of it!

We thought you were going to rid us all of it.

I did you one better: Gold-backed currency is now legal, again: You can spend it yourselves--!

The Russians buzz together; the WIND TUNNEL MOTOR WHINES DOWN (three rooms away)… They shrug--

(to themselves)
I always, thought, there was something sequel-ish about Arabs.

(to Sheik)
Okay.

CUT OVER TO:

INT. BIG RUSSIAN MAYOR'S OFFICE - EVENING LIT

Nine Mayors watch the Russian TV News, the Bazaar Clerk watching b.g. the still-bouncing-melting stack of gold-certificate rubles spreading-thin;

… just after signing the Shuttle-buy deal this afternoon: And we will keep watch on this!: (with e-CHARTS overlaid)
Here is how this, News Reporter has followed Sheik Alfaseti's spending spree: On two billion U.S.-dollars-worth of oil, the sheik charmed 2-billion, 3-hundred million, buying a two-hundred-million shuttle ride with one-hundred million in luxury extras,- keeping two billion: Thus he spent ziltch-ski, and, kept the equity in his oil. Leninsk City has two-hundred-million of that oil as payment for his mission, And nine other Russian towns included in Alfaseti's dealings received 18-hundred million oil for a bargain 17-hundred-10 million worth 19-hundred million, -thus effectually taxing them: but only one-hundred-million;- And the world tonight considers the difference, while the ruble soars! The Sheik's Secretary-Aide says their corporate motto is: We're number three, And you won't believe how hard we, try!

CUT OVER TO:

INT. FLOPS' OFFICE - DAY

Flops pauses in his sweaty gymsuit--

Cle-ver! He did it again! Must be where the Sheik got his nickname,: (resumes bend-flops)
Al,-Fass-Eddy.

That is, his name-- and much of that oil came from his reserves in Saddam's tanks that Saddam used to claim he couldn't sell it,-- so he got free storage and scraped the: (gathers)
sky for another cool fifty-million.

(laughing)
Cle-ver!

(exiting)
And, the Chinese Commerce Officials are here to see you, now.

Who?

(checks notes)
General, Poo Ting, and Major Fah: (and EXITS)
Ting.

Are they related?

And resumes flopping… the two CHINA OFFICERS enter;

(watch 2 flops)
Hello, Mr. Flops:: (smile a beat)
We're with the Chinese government: And we're here to help.

FADE TO:

INT. PEOPLE-MOVER CORRIDOR - DULLES AIRPORT VA - MIDMORNING

They HYPERWALK the beltways toward each other: Flops with his airport-diner glass of milk, milk-mustache, and Marcia;

Alfaseti, his son Hammed, and entourage of 10-Sheiks;

Payrol, and Dacy with her huge plump-stuffed Dolphin-Roy;

IN THE LOUNGE: the INTERPRETER is waiting, as All arrive--

(greets and grins)
Rossender Payrol, -good ire-Chat buddy:- Hope you're ready to watch me win.

(handshakes)
Billiard T. Flops, good I-R-Chat buddy: If I just watch, you may just win.

Nnngh.

And, Marcia,-- so pleased to see you again.: (kisses the lady)

Thank you, Ross-- and it's nice to: (and smiles to Dacy)
see Dacy-dear Payrol is going too.

Hi, Miss Marcia.

Gentlemen, Ladies: You know each other: This is good:: (gestures)
Allow me to introduce your primary competitor in this race: The world-famed Prince Al-Fass'Eddy-- little Bubiyan Minor's biggest, disco--: (grins)
Sheik.

(hand out)
Do Arabs shake?

(smiles and handshakes)
Only with the absolute certainty of charming, success, in the long run.

(meekly)
I guess that's me.

Alfaseti smirks bemused.

(proffers milk)
Care for a milk, Sheik?

(glares back)
Flops flips: Flip flop, flop flip.

Nnngh: Guess not before launch.: (fake-grins, diverts)
And what are they?

They, are his subsidiary paying passengers: The ten little Sheiks of Al Hamzah Tell, eastward in Bubiyan Minor.

Payrol and 10-Sheiks nod Greetings;

Like having ten fingers behind your back: Clever.: (fake-grins)
They got here real fast: No big Sheiks!?

The fast is part of the religion in that region.

(acknowledges)
Nnngh.

And this is the Skeik's little boy, Hammed.

Son of a Sheik! Hammed, my boy:: (shakes hands)
How's computing in the Bubiyan Minor, league--? Heh.

Okay, mister oyster mogul.

(beat)
That's, computer mogul;- and I didn't bring any mountain oysters.

Others choke guffaws.

(disguises)
Alas, the Sheik's Press Secretary was delayed: -a minor, wind-tunnel engagement:- He will be aboard the Shuttle launch tomorrow evening in Baikonur.

(foresight chin-grins)
Better watch the extra weight in plaster and bandages, Sheik.

(imitates)
Nnngh.

(speaks up)
Let's get this over-with-- shall we, ladies and gentlemen?!

He opens and reads, a USA-President-sealed-envelope letter:

By Presidential Proclamation upon a sovereign soil of the United States of America, I, have been authorized to read, The Rules Of Attainment:--: (proclaims)
Whereas: This is a pure race of the highest intellectual technological prowess in the world, we shall have no littering, no smoking in the bathrooms, no more than one-and-a-half hours of satellite television per day, but you may continue on your Internet browser; no camping on the tele-phane; no rough shuttling; and, no skipping meals!: (looks about)
Are there any questions?

10-Sheiks buzz Arabic+English together, rapid stream:--

(with questioning looks)
/ We do not fast while traveling!
/ Is space-racing, traveling?
/ Traveling, is work!
/ We glide unpowered for four days!
/ Traveling, is going somewhere!
/ We don't stop at the moon!
/ Sunup is four days straight!
/ What is the rule for moon-racing?
/ Are we too short for puberty?
/ Is racing around the moon, sane?!
/ I feel like an old woman already!
/ You-- wish--!
/ What month is it when, we, go around the moon?!

What's the question?

They are concerned about how-close we may come to Holy Day Fast.

How important is that?

They must begin fasting on-time, right at sunup.

How will they see the sunup from beyond the Earth, in outer space?

(to them in Arabic)
How will you see the sunup…

/ Yes-yes. / We heard him.

And continue to buzz Arabic…

(3 beats)
They will follow-up, and let you know.

Thank you: That is very reasonable of them.: (resets)
And: one last thing,-- gentlemen;--
Dacy-dear: Look away for a moment;- And you, too, Marcia, Please.

Dacy and Marcia face away while three men unpocket Shuttle gloves: Payrol, NASA; Flops, NASA; Alfaseti, CCCP (USSR)--

(shrugs to Payrol)
Leftover, from the cold war.

And faces held back, they slap each other glove-to-gloves.

(flicks dust off his)
It is now official-- for all time!

CUT OVER TO:

EXT. VANDENBERG SHUTTLE-X LAUNCH FACILITY - NO MOON PREDAWN

Remote-controlled high-tech 'BEE's exeunt a Shuttle hatch, one-by-one; and en mass of ten swirl downward…

BELOW - AN ARAB TENT - Sheik's Aide, arab-caped, bandaged from wind-tunnel practice, video-controls his-- sabotage!

The 'Bee's enter over the VOICES of distant technicians;--

And he closes down and steals away under a barely-lit sky…

TRANSITION: Frame rate to stepwise… and time-lapse speed--

THE SECURITY-CAMERA VIEW, RAPID SEQUENCE - A DAY PASSING…

And on that add PROGRESSIVE OVERLAYS: Dacy's laptop SCREEN:

ADV. - INTERNET-WEBCAM BROWSER TRIM W/BANNER (UPPER FRAME)

Pointer-finger orbits across "Click Here Now" flashing for:

"Click on Flops Wins--! Or the moon gets nuked!"

The Sheik's Aide (scene above) had been caught on a webcam.

Pointer selects another webcam-favorite… BROWSER CLICK--

ADV. - TV-IN-INTERNET-BROWSER (FULL MAIN FRAME)

A launch-town MAYOR's impromptu as an orange juice barker: gunning full cartons on a fence, venting orange juice…

Go ahead and make your day--: (blows gunsmoke)
With Florida Valencia Orange Juice:

And tips-- SHOOTS HIS HAT…!

Says me,-- the Ohhh-Ranger…!

And EJECTS BARREL CARTRIDGE….

Pointer selects another webcam-favorite… BROWSER CLICK--

ADV. A SHUTTLE LAUNCH-FACILITY - LAWN - DAY (ENHANCED)

An orange full moon; a LIVE-BILLBOARD on the front lawn:

Shine, your moon, with California, Navel, Orange, Juice:--: (flips Orange-bowl-hat)
We're… California-sunnier…!

Pointer selects another webcam-favorite… BROWSER CLICK--

ADV. CELLPHONE SERVICE ADVERTISEMENT - LIVE-PIP (TILTED)

Circled by revolving planet-/moon-/star-oranges; PHONE-PIP:

(comeback)
Florida Valencia Orange juice is sweeter and juicier, than the sun, moon, planets and stars, combined!

ADV. - JIGGLING POPUP (FLOATING HALFSIZE FRAME)

Obscuring the phone-pip;

(squeezed-in, JIGGLING)
Russia Juiced Orangerine is really orangier and tangier, because-- We squeeze really-cosmic orangerines!

Pointer selects a Favorites-Bookmark… BROWSER CLICK--

ADV. - IRCHAT W/SIDEBAR, SCROLLING (FULL MAIN FRAME)

Prelaunch Shuttle-race ad-lib-IRChat scrolling; ad images--

[Head fizzing orange]

More tingle!

[Black-and-orange-dressed Tango dancers]

More tango!

INT. AIRFLIGHT - BUSINESS SECTION - DIM (CONTINUOUS)

POV: Dacy looks up from her laptop (same), to the INFLITE TV-MOVIE [advertising green oranges ripening to fireworks]:

More bingo-bango!

POV checks her watch-- 9:57 AM…

Are we almost there, Daddy?

(resting adjacent)
A few more minutes, Dacy-dear-- and we go straight to Canaveral, and board the Shuttle…. Are you ready?

Yes, Daddy.

BROWSER CLICK-- and back to her laptop--

ADV. - FLORIDA CASINO E-MAIL (FULL MAIN FRAME)

Actor-action-sequence, with live-stand-in:

Flops, doesn't stand half a chance, against Alfaseti, And besides: Nine out-of-ten Floridians, say, Payrol, will take first place anyway… so,-- Cast your, orange, ballot,- and win your cube of Florida Orange Juice!

Pointer fingers "Enter Casino"… BROWSER CLICK--

ADV. RUSSIAN RIVIERA - SUNNY BEACH DAY - (FULL MAIN FRAME)

MCU: A COLLEGE MAN stands ready to bite a navel orange,

(glib commercial)
I'm standing on the Russian Riviera to find-out if navel, orange juice, is really, fresh, around the world!

He bites the orange, navel,- and holding it out, squeezes--

SLO MO: JUICE DROOLS DELICIOUSLY, from the orange navel…

UNDULATING… DOWN…

SPRIGHTLY SPLASHING a bikini-clad Rus. female MODEL'S BELLY…

NORMAL: CU: Her face cocked up startled at--

HER BELLY: He drops and SLURPS-ABOUT her bellybutton--

She squeals, "V'sawseetye?!", TRYING TO PULL OUT…

Chasing down-in, a posed glass of Valencia orange juice--

(delicious grin)
Navel, orange juice, has certain disadvantages, outside California-- Try Florida, Valencia, around your, world, in a glass, with your honey!

CUT TO:

INT. A KITCHEN - AT REFRIGERATOR - LATE EVENING TV-ROOM-LIT

B.G. Next room TV, an upscale-soapy orange juice jug ad:

(standing staring)
If I move to California, I can take a job at the navel shipping yard…

(pleading behind him)
You promised, we would go together… You said it was, In the cartons…

(CUE F.G.)

(sulking)
Ads change, my Amy, Dear: We can't just compare oranges and oranges…

And, Why not--?! We eat the same breakfast; We vote the same polls…

(reveals a wiener-jug)
It wouldn't work: Quart-size Wiener Jugs are more convenient everywhere I go… I can recycle them myself.

Where have our best squeezes gone--?: (cries in his shoulder)
Don't I hold appeal, for you…?!

(a beat, summarizes)
California navel-juicers elected to recount Florida oranges, preferring Flops-to-win 69 percent, to Payrol, 13; the Hunk for a whole 9 percent; Marcia for 7; and Dacy-dear for a 2-percent share with Dolphin-Roy and Mr. No-body.

An all-ages big-animal-science TV-channel resumes…

F.G. Moments after "cartons", a TODDLER (2) in pajamas, toddles in, and opens the refrigerator auto-door.

And while inside BLUE LASER scans about, two-handedly takes out a half full orange juice carton, and holds it up for…

LASER FLURRY-SCANS carton and UBC;--

DOOR-WAP TINGS+TALLIES a line:

ORANGE JUICE-- 39 OZ

Toddler grins gapped-toothy at the scanner:

LASER FLURRY-SCANS teeth and cheeks, blue;--

DOOR-WAP TINGS+TALLIES a second line:

DOG FOOD-- 00 OZ

Toddler EXITS with carton to the TV Room;

Refrigerator TING-TING-TINGS-- and the DOOR CLOSES itself.

DOOR-WAP-PICTURE ad:

(looks-about)
Oooh: Nice--! I love your nouveau Accent Americana decor: So precise!: (bangs shoe, rants)
But, we will bury you in orangerine juice, Mr. Flops!

CUT TO:

EXT. BAIKONUR LAUNCH FACILTY - BURAN-X READY - 18:55 PM KWT

At the Manned Lunar Launch Facility an ET-stack-Energiya-2X with four boosters and Buran stands fueled… MOON ABOVE…

From the hatch, Sheik's Aide in cape and days-old bandages, stowing-away five GIGGLY NEWSWOMEN, checks watch and below.

NB. WESTSIDE HALF-MOON FOR THE 4-DAY RACE-- NOON MOONRISE; EASTSIDE MOON HAS EARTHSHINE; EASTSIDE EARTH HAS MOONSHINE

CUT TO:

INT. EARLY DINNER THEATER - LOBBY - BAIKONUR (LENINSK)

Audience exits AD LIB; Alfaseti, 10-Sheiks, check watches.

CUT OVER TO:

EXT. VANDENBERG - SHUTTLE-X READY - NO MOON 08:20 AM PDT

The Shuttle stands fuming; NASA Techs clear-away for launch… A taxi-Chauffeur turns away from admiring the Shuttle and into his parked taxi-limousine, starts-up and drives away…

CUT UP TO:

INT. FLOPS COMMAND DECK (LAUNCH-VERTICAL)

Seated back: Flops left, Marcia right, pink helmet; knives, forks, Long napkins from open helmets to plates on doilies on stomachs; dainty breakfast of squeeze-milk, steak-in-egg-veg-souffle, fruit slices; watch an early-hour TV Space-Race Talk Show, with orange-Mayors' interviews and NASA launch sites;

Flops eats a bite;- and holds out his plate to Marcia--

(mid chew)
More honey, please and thank you.

She pours honey for him,-- then for herself…

This is an interesting show, Marcia: Do they have this every morning? I usually get up early and watch The Rocky And Bullwinkle Show.

I don't know, Bill: I usually watch Captain Kangaroo and Mr. Green-Jeans.

Good choice.

CUT OVER TO:

EXT. CANAVERAL - SHUTTLE-X READY - MOONRISE 11:30 AM EDT

Moon dome levitates; NASA Techs drive away… A Chauffeur taking a last look up, reenters his limo and drives away.

CUT UP TO:

INT. PAYROL COMMAND DECK (LAUNCH-VERTICAL)

Payrol left, belts-in Dacy right with Dolphin-Roy; She growls hungry at a squeeze-bottle of milk set afore her;--

Can you abstain a little longer-- please-- half an hour, maybe three quarters. Drink your soft-milk: It: (checks the fit)
should hold your tummy 'til lunch.

(smiles relieved, drinks)
Okay.

(seatbelts himself)
If we hadn't had that midmorning board meeting, we'd have had lunch already.

Keys-up the control-panel,-- a glossy-photo-faces [VIDEO] mission-directive begins (like Mission Impossible)--

Good morning, Mr. Payrol: Central Intelligence has recently tracked Arabs of uncertain origin in the vicinity of the Vandenberg Shuttle Launch Facility, where Mr. Bill Flops is scheduled for launch in half an hour, And the President has ordered minimum-fire in the middle-east during the Shuttle launch, to commemorate this momentous moment.: (half a beat)
Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to keep a close eye on both the Sheik and his nemesis, Flops, around the backside of the moon: The President is counting on you, Mr. Payrol,- And should you or Dacy-dear be caught or taken, his Secretary will vehemently disavow any knowledge of your actions. This record has a computer-virus that will self-de-res in five seconds.

Well: That answers that!

Daddy: Who is that man: He was on Mission Impossible,- wasn't he?

[Video sequentially decimates and scrambles finer to undulating color-wash smoke]

I don't know, Dacy-dear: We have lot's of double-dippers in the government.

CUT OVER TO:

EXT. BAIKONUR - BURAN-X - MOON PAST MERIDIAN - 19:35 PM KWT

Technicians sweep the launch platform of storage excelsior;

Alfaseti, 10-Sheiks, Wives, Children, arrive in limousines.

Waving Aide SHOUTS "Allah Akbar" from the hatch high above.

Quick hugs and kisses; and the men take the ELEVATOR up…

And board the Buran for launch.

CUT OVER TO:

INT. NASA COORDCOM BLOCKHOUSE - CANAVERAL - 11:58:54 AM EDT

B.G. voices mix English, Russian, World; CAPCOM in NASA-uniform, young DR. VAN ILLIN in Florida-creams with 3-cherry shirt-emblem, stand behind 50 PERSONNEL at 5 rows of Operations desks facing wall displays: monitoring launches;

COUNTDOWN Seconds in-progress: "… 64… 63… 62… 61… 60…"

(at 60-sec. mark)
T-minus-sixty seconds and counting: Cape Canaveral is synchronous-null.

(orders)
Final status!

(a beat)
We have confirmation from Baikonur: Go for Launch.: (a beat)
We have confirmation for Vandenberg Go-For-Launch.

Baikonur is Go-for-Launch.

Dr. Van Illin--?

Vandenberg is Go-for-Launch.

We're ready, Cap-Com.

Canaveral is Confirmed Go-For-Launch.

(to headset, repeats)
"Canaveral, is confirmed Go-For-Launch."

(at 30-sec. mark)
Cape Canaveral is Go-for-Launch; Counting T-minus-thirty seconds.

CUT OVER TO:

INT. FLOPS COMMAND (LAUNCH-VERTICAL) - 8:59:30 AM PDT

(smiles)
Sit-tight, Marcia: This is almost as exciting as the day we launched Biz-Wax-99.

(smiles back)
Yes, sir.

CUT OVER TO:

INT. PAYROL COMMAND (LAUNCH-VERTICAL) - 11:59:36 AM EDT

(smiles at)
Time to tell Dolphin-Roy to keep quiet, Dacy-dear.

Okay, Daddy.: (orders Dolphin-Roy)
Now: Don't you inhale, 'til I say!

CUT OVER TO:

INT. SHEIK COMMAND (LAUNCH-VERTICAL) - 19:59:42 PM KWT

HELM left, Alfaseti right, Aide snoozes amid 10-Sheiks;

Faint multiple female BUZZ-WHISPERING from below deck;

(hearing, to Helm)
Have the engines started, already?

Just the internal, fuel-pumps.

CUT DOWN TO:

INT. LOWER DECK (LAUNCH-VERTICAL)

The Newswomen are strapped supine hidden under a curtain-blanket, excitedly buzz-whispering… and mutually hushing.

CUT OVER TO:

INT. NASA COORDCOM - 11:59:50 AM EDT

BALCONY: Looking down-over through its slanted-glass QUIET.

Safety Systems On… Water Started…

REMOTE-VIDEOS: (T-10) [SPARKLES below the SSMEs]

(sync with 1 sec.-COUNT)
T-minus-10. 9.
8.
7.

T-7: [SSMEs ignite to flameshocks; lift]

6.
5.

MAIN FLOOR: (T-5) Busy voices f.g.

4.
3.

T-3: [SSMEs tugging up to limit]

T-0.5: [BOOSTERS ignite… Unclamped-- Shuttle-X liftoff]

We have lift-off of the Tri-Shuttle Mission S-T-S-1-2-Launch: The Great Space Race of the 21st-century.

CHEERS, CLAPPING… [Shuttle-X passes launch tower]

(a beat)
Tower, cleared. Shuttle, is looking good.

T+9: [Shuttle-X begins roll right for 120-deg. head-down]

T-plus-9 seconds-- Houston has control… Canaveral confirms launch of one Shuttle, Cleared for space.

Roger Roll, Shuttle Payrol.

COLLAGE, in advancing minutes:

EXT. CANAVERAL PARKING - SHUTTLE+ET+X RISES - (CONTINUOUS)

RUMBLING - Crowd views the white exhaust column growing up;

Baikonur confirms launch of one space shuttle, cleared for space. Vandenberg confirms launch of one Space Shuttle, Cleared for space.

Climbing a mile in 10 seconds… the SKY RUMBLE-KNOCKS…

T+28:

Shuttle Payrol. Go at Throttle-up.

(2 sec.)
Shuttle, Copies: Go at Throttle-up.

EXT. SHEIK SHUTTLE+ENERGIYA+X RISING - BLUE SKY DARKENING

Its trans-supersonic tail umbrella-cloud blossoms shimmery, and recedes, coning slightly, with its center a heat hole…

Standing-by, for Separation….

EXT. FLOPS SHUTTLE+ET+X RISING - EARTH BELOW BLUE-BLACK SKY

ET camera view of Vandenberg, California receding, 45 mi.…

BOOSTERS SEPARATION, which drift apart, still spewing…

Vandenberg, Flops, Booster-sep. at 1:27. Go'for Altitude!

Roger Vandenberg.

CUT TO:

INT. NASA COORDCOM - 12:01:30 PM EDT

Slightly overlapping, busy:

This is Baikonur COORDCOM, Ptichka-Faseti: You had boosters separation at 1:29. You are, Go for altitude.

Roger, Baikonur.

Canaveral COORDCOM, Shuttle-Payrol: You have boosters separation at 1:34. You are, Go For Altitude.

Roger, Canaveral.

FADE TO BLACK

CUT IN:

EXT. SHEIK COMMAND, SHUTTLE+ENERGIYA - BLACK SKY, STARS

8-minutes later, SSME CUTOFF (boosters long gone).

This is Baikonur COORDCOM: Ptichka-Faseti had main engines cutoff at 9:41. And is Go for insertion.

Canaveral COORDCOM: Shuttle-Payrol has Main Engine Cutoff at 9:48. And is Go For Insertion.

CUT TO:

INT. NASA COORDCOM - 12:09:45 PM EDT (AS CONTINUOUS)

Vandenberg, Flops, MECO, at 9:54. Go'for Insertion!

CUT TO:

INT. PAYROL COMMAND - EARTH ORBIT - MOON UP - OPERATION LIT

ATTITUDE TRIMS: Starry black sky rotates; Earth below.

Payrol gets Dacy gourmet lunch, and for himself:

One French Dip, Au Jus, still hot; avec pommes de terre French-froid.: (smiles on that twist)
And for desert, we have your favorite, kiwi-lime pie.

Can Dolphin-Roy speak now?

I suppose this is an appropriate time for Dolphin-Roy to supply commentary.

(to Dolphin-Roy)
Okay: You can inhale now: Breath in.: (ear-on: breathes-with)
Dolphin-Roy says, this is a big new ocean to swim.

Yes: That is a good way to put it.

(grappling the sandwich)
Daddy: Is this lunch? Or is this breakfast? I'm so hungry, I don't recall: This must be the latest we've ever eaten-- except when we: (and begins eating)
visited Disney Land in California.

Well, Dacy-dear: We're on Universal Time out here, out in space: We had early breakfast on Florida Time and launched at noon: So this is lunch on Texas Time, which is why you're hungry: Except it's really dinner on Universal Time; And Disney Land is on California time, so this is like brunch there, except that when we are there, we are on their time, and wait two more hours for lunch.

(still chewing)
Okay;-- I'll ask my teachers at school, when we get home.

Both eat.

(swallows)
Daddy: Why can't we just be on our own time?!

Well, Dacy-dear: That is one of the all-time bigger mysteries of modern civilized living: Not even all the doctors and lawyers, congressmen and scientists, and all the masters of physics and mathematics, have ever figured out how to make metric time for the whole world-- so, we use English clocks.

(still chewing)
Okay;-- I'll ask my teachers at school, when we get home.

Both eat.

(swallows)
Daddy: How do we know when we've eaten enough in outer space, if everything is weightless? Can I put-on Calories in outer space?

Dacy-dear: I don't know all the answers to all your questions; And when we live in outer space, it's like having a whole new set of questions: How-about we just wing it and have a good time-- Shall we?

(still chewing)
Okay;-- I'll ask my teachers at school, when we get home.

He eats.

(reflecting, adds)
I suppose, eating after, launch, doesn't keep us from putting-on extra, weight.

DISSOLVE TO:

EXT. ORBIT - SHUTTLE HEADLIGHTS FAR SPREAD - dark, NO MOON

3 Shuttles ready to Go, nearing race-course dawn perigee…

CUT TO:

INT. FLOPS COMMAND - (OPERATION-LIT)

Auto-tracking orbit-corridor;

Luminous shave-ad-phrase SIGNS sequence slowly PAST RIGHT:

SIGNS PASSING: MARCIA reads aloud:

When in doubt,

Or out in space,

Squeeze a tube,

And save your face:

Prima-Shave.

(smiles)
That's silly, Billy.

CUT TO:

INT. PAYROL COMMAND

Auto-tracking orbit-corridor;

SIGNS PASSING: DACY reads aloud:

Rockets ready,

Going steady;

Win that race,

Shave your face:

Prima-Shave.

(smiles at)
That's funny, Daddy: Do you need a shave?

(strokes chin)
Nope: Still in the holding pattern.

CUT TO:

INT. SHEIK COMMAND

Auto-tracking orbit-corridor;

SIGNS PASSING: SHEIK#2 reads aloud, rhymes "heave, hear,"

A voice in heaven,

We have heard:

Keep it even;

Shave your beard:

Prima-Shave.

(puzzle mutual)
/ Messages? / From Allah?

(enunciates to Sheik#2)
That's heaven, And heard.

(recites for Sheik#1)
A voice in heaven, We have heard?

Sheik#1 nods Approval-yes…

(but rhymes to a fault)
Keep it 'evven', Shave your 'bird'?

Sheik#1 shakes Unbelievable-no… Sheik#2 looks puzzled:

Who, is 'Evven'?

Earth's horizon-tip glows enlarging into DAWN and SUN;

(points to dawn)
Oh, look!- Another day already!

I like, this kind of fasting: Every 90 minutes!

Americans have fast-food… We, have fast-fasting…!

CUT TO:

EXT. FLOPS COMMAND - (PREDAWN)

Other Shuttle+ET'S GLINT in sunlight a mile above;

SIGNS PASSING: (CONCURRENT)

Come up here;

Stay a while;

Comb up hair;

Shave in style:

Prima-Shave.

Shuttle E-T-A: Two minutes: Ready final burn; You should be seeing them.

Roger, Houston: S-T-S-Flops, ready for final burn-- no sign of them, though.

(looks out higher)
Isn't that them, up there-- the sun-glints?

INT. COMMAND - (CONTINUOUS)

(looks out higher)
Should be-- or headlights. Houston: We have them, visual!

We copy, Shuttle.

CUT TO:

EXT. 3 SHUTTLE+ET'S RENDEZVOUS - SUNRISE (NO MOON)

OMS-THRUSTERS close-up parallel orbits: Flops below coming up on right, final-burns; Payrol on left, half-burns; both yield as, Sheik above comes down between.

EXT. PAYROL COMMAND - (SUNRISE)

Other Shuttles are closing-in;

SIGNS PASSING: DACY (VO) reads aloud:

All star trekkers,

Be aster-riskers;

All start-wreckers,

Be after whiskers:

Prima-Shave.

(resumes)
This is fun, Daddy.

Yes, Dacy-dear: The race is about to begin: Keep an eye out for the Go sign.

EXT. FLOPS COMMAND

Shuttles VERNIER-trimming, line-up to nose-and-nose;

SIGNS PASSING: MARCIA (VO) reads aloud softly:

Missiles envied;

Rockets feared;

Shuttle up, and,

Shave your Beard:

Prima-Shave.

(resumes)
That sounds portentious.: (looks across left)
They're all lined-up ready, Bill.

CUT TO:

INT. SHEIK COMMAND

Alfaseti looks out at Flops unnoticing (right)… till--

SIGNS BEGIN PASSING:

/ 10

/ Last Gas Before Moon

/ 9

Flops looks (left), grins-salutes--

SIGNS:

/ Moon: 237,000 miles avg.

/ 8

/ No Hitchhiking

EXT. SHEIK COMMAND - RIGHT SIDE WINDOW - (AS CONTINUOUS)

Alfaseti slower left-salutes, growing a big grin; but as…

SIGNS REFLECT in his window: (CONCURRENT)

/ 7

/ Watch For Falling Comets

/ 6

/ Moon Or Bust

/ 5

Abruptly WINDOW WASHER WATER STREAMS-OUT and across, at…

INT. FLOPS COMMAND - (AS CONTINUOUS)

Stream (from left)… FROSTS-SNOWS windows left and front;

SIGNS QUICKLY BECOMING OBSCURED:

/ This Sign Intentionally Left Blank

/ 4

/ On Your Marks

(into Operation Manual)
I didn't know that!

His thick yellow "Space Shuttle Operation For Dummies";

SIGNS OBSCURED except passing on Marcia's far right:

/ 3

/ Get Ready

/ 2

/ Get Set

Marcia presses the button for-- WINDOW WIPERS, SCRAPING;

(notices)
I didn't know that.

LAST SIGNS LESS-OBSCURED:

/ 1

/ 0.5

/ GO

(searching right)
I think we've passed the Go-sign, Bill--! There are no more signs!

Two Shuttles, ET-Engines on, pass Flops… VAPORIZING FROST…

(closes, sets Manual)
I'll have to reread the Manual--: (controls)
… Later… Let's go, Marcia!

Hurry, Bill.

SSMEs ROAR, seating them back in their seats.

We're going!: (keys Comm)
Houston: We're going!

We copy, Shuttle-Flops: The new millennium space-race has begun.

CUT TO:

INT. SHEIK COMMAND - LEAVING ORBIT

Snowed Flops Shuttle receding; they're laughing in tears--

(squeals)
Pffft! Did you see that?! Pffft!

ENGINE SPUTTERS-OUT to silence,- panel LIGHTS RED+YELLOW;

Stunned-blinking-about except Aide sleeping-off time-zones…

Payrol Shuttle precedes… then Flops passes and precedes…

(exasperates gestures)
Can't you mujahs fly, over, the buildings?! Like fearless moon-astronauts!: (thumbs Operation Manual)
What is this?!: (to Helm)
Fix, it!

Others look at each other;

(throws Manual to Aide)
You!

It misses high; 2/10-Sheiks nearest, jostle Aide,--

(slow to rouse)
Ungh…
Ungh…
Ungh…?

(pointing at Aide)
Outside--! You!

(in disbelief)
Whah-- whah'd I do?!

And dives to the Airlock…

Get the engines restarted!

CUT TO:

EXT. PAYROL SHUTTLE+ET - LEAVING ORBIT, PASSES ONWARD

Payrol, Dacy, watching ahead.

CUT TO:

EXT. FLOPS SHUTTLE+ET - CHASING, PASSES ONWARD

Flops, Marcia, watching ahead.

CUT TO:

EXT. SHEIK SHUTTLE+ENERGIYA - TOP REAR, ENGINES - OFF

Two Shuttles, SSMEs full-glowing-big dots preceding far,

Aide in spacesuit, arab cape, GLIDES to the Energiya's far rear, until his securing rope limits-- he tugs at his end: just barely arms over the edge;- tap-taps his space-hammer on parts of the Engine:-- ICE BITS SCATTER, FLOATING AWAY;

A VENT of gas-blown snow;

ENGINES RESTART to transparent blaze, and shocks--

STRETCHING HIS ROPE--! till he stands facing with angst--

Hot exhaust BLAZING AT HIS SPACESUIT and smoking his cape!

He squats; works his rope-tool back-down forward and safe…

INT. SHEIK COMMAND, ENGINES ON - OPERATION-LIT RESUMED

Engines roaring; Alfaseti standing telescopes the other Shuttles far ahead 60 deg. above his horizon.

(reports)
We have full thrust capacity, restored, Captain!

(eye in viewer)
Follow those shuttles!

Helm applies the engines, building thrust smoothly…

Throttle-up to maximum red line and five degrees above forward attitude for optimum parabolic-orbit burn!

Helm throttles-up full limit, SITTING DEEPER-- and toppling

(arm high statuesque)
Higher.

Helm puzzles brow, and controls HIGHER,-- seating Alfaseti.

Maintain five degrees over forward.

Helm shrugs a beat, and LOWERS to forward,-- loosing

(slips over his seat top)
Up! Higher! Sixty degrees!

Helm slaps his chest, and HIGHERS,-- flooring Alfaseti.

(points forward)
Lower! Forward; Five degrees!

Helm LOWERS,-- and hanging-hand-standing-upside-down,

(crawling hand-over-hand)
No! Higher! Sixty! Degrees!

Helm shrugs, HIGHERS,-- dropping Alfaseti behind his seat.

(points)
No! Lower! Five! Degrees!

Helm grits, LOWERS,-- hanging up

(grabs the armrests)
High-er!

Helm HIGHERS,-- inserting Alfaseti upside down.

(points)
Low-er!

Helm big-grins, LOWERS,-- but Alfaseti is stuck, legs up.

(points from under there)
The moon is below the horizon; the other shuttles are sixty degrees above!

Helm giddy freelance HIGHERS;-- Alfaseti leg-clasps seat;

(points)
The shuttles are ahead-and-leaving: We'll meet them both, and the moon, together: in two days!

Helm joyriding LOWERS,-- popping-up-horsey above his seat,

(from all-fours; erudite)
This is a race: Not a rally!

Helm mock-racer-gearshifts; HIGHERS,-- rump'ing Alfaseti.

(erudite)
Optimal trans-orbital injection is tangential to orbit velocity: It is celestial mechanics;-- with minimal corrections for starting late!

Helm trucker-double-clutches; LOWERS,-- pike-positioning,

(quick-thrusts his point)
I'mmm captain of this vessel!

Helm wild-salutes brow; HIGHERS,-- proper-seating Alfaseti, who quick-buckles-in;

(thrusts his, 3 points)
I'm the Engineer, the Navigator, and, the Mad Scientist:-- Three, against one!

Helm drops salute to flibber-lips; LOWERS;-- Both arms up,

(points, glares at them)
I!- Order!- Higher!

Helm inches-up salute; HIGHERS.

(repeat-points)
I belay that order! Lower! Lower! Lower!

Helm inches-down to cross-neck salute; grits; LOWERS.

(points)
Higher…!

Helm mock-jockey grapples control; HIGHERS.

(points)
Lower…!

Helm roller-coaster free-fall wows, LOWERS.

(points)
Hi-gher!

Helm yanks SO HIGH THE HANDLE COMES OFF; and he sinks down.

(clawing for stability)
Lo-wer!

Helm now low, helmet on, visor down, reinserts his handle.

EXT. REAR - SHEIK SHUTTLE+ENERGIYA - MOONRISE (CONTINUOUS)

Engines roaring;

V.O. Alfaseti, Engineer, yet arguing--

Hi-hi-hi-gher!

Shuttle pitches up;-- Aide SLAMS BRONCOBUSTER DOWN…

And, two-legged-flap-kick;

Lo-lo-lo-wer!

Shuttle bucks over;-- Aide SWINGS UP, PENDULATING high; his cape still trailing smolder slaps straight in the vacuum…

Hi-gher-gher-gher!

Shuttle pitches up;-- Aide PENDULATES DOWN-- SLAMS…

And, two-legged-flap kick;

Lo-wer-wer-wer!

Shuttle pitches over;-- Aide PENDULATES HIGH, Rodeo-handed…

FADE TO:

EXT. PAYROL SHUTTLE+ET - BIPOD STRUTS - ONWARD TO THE MOON

Strut BOLTS SHEAR… VERNIERS SPURT-- separating the ET…

EXT. PAYROL COMMAND, ET RECEDING TUMBLING LAZILY

Inside, Dacy plays zero-gee paddleball…

CUT TO:

INT. FLOPS SHUTTLE OFFICE - LIT

Long busy at a laptop…

(leans back, emotes)
I real-ly like this set-up: My, space-office-- sp'office-- spo-office:: (chuckles up)
Ahhh: The good old days of 65-hundred R-P-N:-- I wonder where all those Reversed-Polish Notations ended-up.: (a beat-- energizes)
Marcia!

Coming right in!

She enters floating upside down at the ceiling, behind--

(holds out voxbox)
Ready, sir.

(focused aloud)
Okay: Take this, down: We release Wind-Panes Accountant Micro-Manager on June Twelfth. That's Six-Twelve, Wham--! Pitch it as, "Time flies like an arrow: Smash those flies in a-row, by accounting for every second spent on company time, with Meglo-Soft's -New!- Biz-Wind-Panes Accountant Micro-Man-Ager.": (turns)
Got all that down?: (far-tilts head)
Up--? Whatever?!

Yes, sir.

(looks at her voxbox)
And give it to Marketing for final revision:: (new subject)
I should get one of those myself: Does it transcribe to Times New Roman M-S?

Yes, sir.

(broad smiles)
Well-- you've earned your salary for today: Thank you, Marcia.

Yes, sir. Thank you, sir--: (and EXITS)
You're welcome, sir!

(quieter: sotto voce)
Yes sir, thank you sir, you're welcome sir,-- Y-S-T-Y-S-Y-W-S… yeasty-sea-wiz-- 'hmmm'.

CUT TO:

INT. SHEIK COMMAND (NO ET-ENERGIYA)

Coasting steady, far behind; Alfaseti, Engineer, relate--

(peeved but talking)
When can we make up the difference?

We needn't make up much difference: We started on a later profile, and burned-off our fuel faster in lower orbit… We go the same distance, at slightly better velocity, to reach the same moon… We are five minutes east but the moon gravity will draw us together.

When, can we make up that, much difference?

That is the trouble: We are behind.

Yes: That is what I asked.

We need more thrust power and fuel to do that.

And where do we get more thrust power and fuel to do that?!

You sell more oil in exchange for more clean-burning hydrogen.

(exasperates)
Now you tell me?

Now you ask?

(beat)
Why don't we have enough already?!

We do, or did, or by the specifications, we did, or do.

Do we have a leak?

I have had no indication of a leak.

What then?!

I think, we are either under-powered, or over-weight.

Which is it?

Not easy to tell in the weightlessness of the heavens.

What's your guess?

I never guess-- but: If the Russian rocket engine specifications are consistent, accurate, honest, true, reliable, trustworthy, and…

(nods a beat,- prompts)
Annnnd?

Better than the American…

Then--? We're overweight?

(nods Yes)
Yup!

(thinks aloud)
Weights on level ocean are the same at all latitudes, But less when the moon is closer; Continental weights are greater because land is denser, But less near mountains that float; Avoirdupois is heavier than Troy in gold pounds; Humidity, adds weight; Launch latitude, cosine, rotation-velocity-boost deficit, But orbital velocity matched at Go… Breakfast Max? Lucky charms? Space-ballast…? Toilet loads…? Sabotage!?

Engineer shrugs not.

(eyeing Engineer's body)
Think of something: That's why you're hired.

(worries)
Alright-- alright-- I'm thinking,-- of some things!

OUTSIDE HATCH OPENS,-- and shuts.

Faint HISS of airlock,-- and finishes.

INSIDE HATCH OPENS,--

Spacesuited, cape burnished smoldering, Aide enters,- removes his helmet; his face drenched in sweat--

(breathing heavy)
Hi-- I'm bushed!

So what's new?

(EXITS to below cabin)
I need a shower.

That is news.

INT. LOWER DECK - LIT

Aide de-suits, and steps into the bulging shower-tube;--

O.C. FEMALE GIGGLES in the steam-shower;

I really need this steam-shower, ladies.

(coy)
/ Be our guest! / This smells heavenly! / An eee-male massage!

Ooooh!

More female GIGGLES (OC).

CUT TO:

INT. FLOPS COMMAND (NO ET)

Marcia (OC) is here; Flops (OS) is below deck.

(calls out to below)
Bill-y!?

Yes, Marcia-y!?

Would you turn the Shuttle about, so I can get more sunlight in here?

(up, goes to controls)
Sure thing.

Marcia is sunbathing, -trying,- applying lotion:

Thank you, Billy.

You're welcome, Marcia-y.

CUT TO:

EXT. PAYROL COMMAND (NO ET)

Inside, Dacy floating, watches TV: a soapy retch-drama…

CUT TO:

INT. SHEIK COMMAND

O.S. TV-like faint female GIGGLES from below deck--

(faint)
/ Uhnh-- uhnh! / Where have you been all day? / We've been waiting for, hours! / Turn around!

Alfaseti puzzles.

(pondering)
T-V… Ten pounds;-- twenty, maybe.

(faint: below)
Not that way!

O.S. More female GIGGLES…

Alfaseti wide-eyed, dives to exit below; Engineer follows…

CUT DOWN TO:

INT. LOWER DECK - (as continuous)

Sheik, Engineer, enter to GIGGLES (OC) in the shower--

Do that again!

Uhnh-- Uhnh!

Oooh,-- that feeeels gooood!

(giggles)
Uhnh-- Uhnh!

(very loud)
Ah-hemah…!

SILENCE: Aide, (5) Newswomen, lower the curtain to their unclad shoulders.

Definitely not, within, prescribed Russian engineering specifications for payloads to the moon.

Alfaseti glares at Engineer.

(subdues worry to Aide)
Is he going to cast us into the frozen darkness of outer space?

Alfaseti glares at the Newswomen.

FADE TO BLACK:

EXT. LONG LINE OF SHUTTLES (NO ET'S) - 40K MI BEYOND EARTH

Waltzing to the moon… Payrol Shuttle passes just west;

Daddy: How can you have a race if you're not, busy,- racing?

Racing in outer space is different than in the movies, Dacy-dear:… In outer space you just start up, and glide the rest of the way.

Isn't planet Earth gliding through space with the sun in the galaxy--? Is it racing somewhere?

Some people think so.

How do you know who will win?

I think that's why we have democratic elections.

Oh.

Flops Shuttle parallels east… but slower, farther away;

(building excitement)
Tomorrow, is our big first day, in outer space!

What's big about it, Billy?

(sobering)
Space, itself, is big… so, the day must be, big?

I thought spaces were big only if you wanted to fill them.

I'll buy that, -with a significant margin-… What would you like to do?

I can start, by calling my friends and relatives….

(begins to worry)
Is NASA going to let us do this?

(continues)
I should-do some early Christmas shopping on the Internet… and I must check on the turkey for our homecoming dinner party.

Don't you have a friend doing that? I mean, checking the turkey dinner?

The bird is frozen in microwavable picnic-foam in the oven, programmed to automatically thaw several hours before we get back and slow-cook to perfection… I just need to monitor its progress.

That's clever… You have an oven WAP?

Yes; and a fisheye webcam in the kitchen.

That's really, clever, Marcia.

That's how I do it from the office.

(connects)
Oh.

Sheik Shuttle is still late and TELESCOPICALLY distant…

(quietish)
He's been sitting so very still like that,-- for hours.

(quietish)
He is a thinking-man's Arab.

INT. SHEIK COMMAND - (AS CONTINUOUS)

Aide and Newswomen are peeking from the floor hatch;

(quietish to Aide)
Is he counting to ten?

(a beat)
He is calculating the dowries.

(not all catching on)
/ Oh? / Oh. / Oh!

Alfaseti is sitting chin-on-hand elbow-on-knee, thinking.

CUT OUT TO:

EXT. OUTER SPACE FAR BEHIND THE SHUTTLES

And onward to the moon, glide three receding… dots…

EXT. PAYROL COMMAND - 60K MI BEYOND EARTH

Inside, Dacy dons her cooking apron and chef hat.

INT. PAYROL COMMAND - (AS CONTINUOUS)

Payrol, Dacy, in chef hats, aprons, reach into the zero-g glove-box… and prepare a gourmet dinner floating inside;

A cooked fish floats-by inside, sideways weightless…

Dacy cleavers 2 Cadillac pears, before paring;

Slice that cadillac real thin.

Using the paring knife?

Yes, the different word,- pare.: (watching)
Thin layers-- that's right.

(slicing the pear)
You're the only haut-chef I know who sub-merges split pears in chicken stock.

(a beat)
You're preparing your psychology report for Home Economics.

(like HAL9000)
"Yes, of course, I am."

A remote-thermometers panel CHIRP-CHIRPS;--

"Just a moment, Just a moment."

(grins; reads panel)
Dacy, you set the 3-M ragout for pork.

I thought you want the hottest of the three meats: It's not, Goldilocks' three-bear stew.

I suppose you're right, but fish cooks fast;-- We'll add the salmon broth'ers last, next time.

Okay.

(reads his list)
Dacy: Why did you X-on my lemon-cheese curdle?

(a beat)
It was an afte'thought: I don't eat rotten milk.

I suppose you're right, but lemon juice curdles without spoiling it.

Oh? Sorry-- You'd better speak to my school cafeteria board about that at your next P-T-A meeting.

Can do.

(a beat)
I'm glad I have, a haut-chef for a dad: else I'd grow-up eating pecan cookies dipped in spaghetti sauce, over vanilla ice cream.

(mock shocked)
Is that, what they teach you in Home Economics?!

Not exactly-- but it's better than what the other kids made.

Which is…

Oh, Ginger-ale-chocolate-ice-cream floats with silver sprinkles.

He's wide-eyed doubly mock-shocked,- resuming preparations.

CUT TO:

INT. FLOPS VIDEO-GAME ROOM - GAME LIGHTS

Flops fancies his video game HAL6000 on his triple-wide-PC: parking a long spaceship inside an asteroid-like base while exchanging cannonfire, without crashing;

(peeks in)
Sir: It's time to retire and let your automation take control for a while.

(almost scoring)
Yes… yes… ahhh--! well: Next try! O-kay!: (hands up oscillating)
First you call it, Winning: Then you call it, Quits!: (EXITS past)
I don't like to lose.

(smiles)
Yes, sir: Genesis is like that, sir.

They exit, leaving the game running fully autonomously…

INT. SHEIK COMMAND - 160K MI TO MOON (80K FROM EARTH)

10-Sheiks in heavy parkas can't find any sunset outside--

(sweating, wiping)
Are you, sure, this is the right direction--? You said, Bring your arctic-snow-parka, It is very cold in outer space!

(at space map, quietish)
I, think, so;- We are traveling in a straight line, Aren't we?: (views map edgewise)
How do we see up-space, on a map…?

(wiping, yawns)
We cannot have wandered too, far, off: We can still see the moon.

(yawns; checks watch)
It is way-passed 90 minutes:- Where is the sunset, now?

(yawning)
We missed it-- six hours ago!

(yawns; points to Earth)
There, Behind the Earth;- and it is staying there.

(drowsing)
Maybe, we need to think locally, while acting globally,- And take the darkside of the Space Shuttle as our sundown…

They all glare at him in disappointed disbelief.

INT. FLOPS COMMAND - (160K MI TO MOON)

Flops, Marcia, dine weightless… She breaks the silence--

(7-chew beat)
Are we not speaking because nobody can hear us in outer space?

Room temperature and conversation seems cool: It's been a long day.: (a beat)
Time interval-- whatever.

(polites)
I kind-of miss having waiters.

(retabling floaters)
Me, too.

FADE TO:

INT. PAYROL LOWER DECK - DIM, SMOKESTACK-NIGHTLIGHT

Payrol in black pajamas, straps Dacy, in nighty, snug in her zero-G sleep-bag across bear-railroad-decor tracks…

Daddy: Should one of us stay and watch on the Command Deck?

No need, Dacy-dear: This ship can fly itself;-- NASA space platforms fly autopilot, these days: We just lock-in the approved digital-secure interplanetary flight-plan, and leave the rest to the computers-- not a space-jacker in the solar system can change the plan… and you need your sleep.

Okay, Daddy: I'll ask my teachers at school, when we get home.: (a beat)
Daddy: Why does NASA put men in a Space Shuttle if it can fly itself?

Dacy-dear: Men must go there and see this and do that… automation makes busywork easier; Men are like little Caesars: Veni, Vidi, Vici.

Okay, Daddy: I understand.

He expects more challenge.

Good night, Daddy.

Good night, Dacy-dear: Pleasant dreaming.

He EXITS, tossing her clothes in the Carbo-fibe hamper and keying THE LIGHTS AUTODIM TO her decor-nightlight only--

FADE TO DIM:

INT. SPACE-BEDROOM - FLOPS SHUTTLE - ELECTRO-CANDLE-LIT

Decor is paint-by-RGB-hexadecimal-numbers wallpaper: waves, flowers, moose, teddy bears; a reading lamp; Internet-TV plays an opposite wall; Flops in bed-shorts and shirt.

LIGHT goes out in the adjacent dressingroom;- Marcia in pink-and-B&W-spaceshuttles pajamas, enters--

(tentatively)
This looks really cosy, Bill: I could sleep for a week: I'm bushed,: (floats-in, and yawns)
to utterly, vitiated, exhaustion…

(eyes suspiciously)
Really!?

(excuses)
It's not like I'm gored, to death: That'd be longer than a week…

He signals her to wait, and pulls a dangling cord-line:

THE BED INFLATES LIKE A GLOVE sandwiching them together;--

(surprised)
Oh-h-h! What will the wife say?!

This is before I was married.

Oh: I hadn't thought of it that way.

(conciliatory)
Women never do: Which is why they don't generally do as well in the Marketing-Inventions-Push Department.

(maidenish)
Is that, what the M.I.P. stands for…?! I always thought MIP was Middle-Management's Department of: (snide)
Mostly Important Persons.

Hmmm: Remind me in the morning, to put-out an e-memo to the Justice Department about that: Proves, not even the best of us know all what's what.

(sleepier)
Mmmm; sure: Whatever you say, Bill.: (snuggles)
I always thought women were necessary as mothers of invention.

Yeah,- but how do they get to be mothers? That's the next big app!

Yes, but all big apps are wireless, today: How's that going to work?

He think-frowns.

(continues)
Blowing kisses at Mount Saint Helens, won't start an avalanche in the Swiss Alps,-- though admittedly it was a good try.

Hungh?!: (beat)
I don't know, Marcia: Meglo-Soft hasn't invented it-- yet.

(epitomizes)
Well, necessity is the mother of invention.

And mothers are the invention of necessity.

(politely arms around)
That's a full-duplex pun, Bill.

(big grins away)
That was my second big app!

(tiredly)
I think we started there already.: (a light kiss, and head-against, dozes)
Bill Flops, you're my hero.

(quietly)
Yes: Payrolls, too.

They adjust embrace and dose sweet moments as the AUTODIMMER LOWERS THE LIGHTS to a single BIG-RED-EYE-NIGHT-LIGHT on the wall (like HAL9000), plus game lights flickering next room…

DREAM-WAVY FOCUS:

REMOTE-WEIRD-KLAXON sounds repeatedly in the game room…

Flops stunned awake, double-jerks the rip-cord:--

THE BED DEFLATES loosely, leaving both free to float.

(half-rouses)
What is it, Bill--? Is it morning already? I don't remember sleeping half a wink…: (groggy to the window)
It's still dark outside, Bill-- you: (and cuddles-up again)
set the alarm too early.

It's the system, Marcia-- It's calling to me: I can hear it!

(drowsy)
The System Is Calling? I never read that one, Bill.

It's on King's writing pad.

I can't wait; But, How do you know?

I have backdoor keys to everything in the world.

What's the system saying to you, Bill?

I don't know: I never learned to read the Matrix,-- I'm just the Gates-keeper.

Why don't you ask it to interpret for you, Bill.

You're right, Marcia:-- Sometimes I think you know more about computers than being a secretary.

It's like the same job, Bill:-- You either use it or you fake it.

(a beat, orders)
Hal!

(psychiatric silky)
Good evening, Bill.

What's the problem, Hal?!

(like HAL9000)
"Everything is running quite smoothly," Bill.

Turn off the alarm in the game room, please, Hal.

BIG-RED-EYE STARES.

(a beat)
Hal: Turn off the alarm in the game room, please!: (2 beats-- to Flops)
I don't think he can hear us… He's just an over-simulated carburetor.

But he'd be a real gas, at a party.

(beat, smooth pique)
I can't do that, Marcia: It is a Top Priority warning of impending doom - doom - doom!

Hal--! What are you telling us?!

POV: Big-Red-Eye: Flops and Marcia; COMPUTER-IVO (FILTERED):

Would you like me to translate into Spanish, Senyor Cuenta se-Tira?

(mispronounces: "noise")
Plain English, Hal-- like you were trained in Sub-urbana, Illi-noise.

(a beat, smooth)
"Just a moment, Just a moment: I've just picked up a fault in the A-E-35 unit: It will go one-hundred percent failure in seventy-two hours."

POV OFF: In-room view:

(near-sotto voce annoyed)
Like-mainframe-father-like-P-C-son.

(a beat)
Is that the unit producing the alarm, Hal?!

No, Bill: The A-E-35 unit is located outside, at the back.

"Will it remain fully operational until it fails, Hal?"

Yes, Bill: "It will remain fully operational for seventy-two hours."

Bill: Seventy-two hours: That's the day we get home:- Ask Hal, what you should do next.

Yes, Marcia;--: (a beat)
Hal: What should we do next?!

You should replace the unit with a backup, And test it until it fails.

INT. COMMAND - THE AIRLOCK - EQUIVOCAL DREAMY LIT

Flops dons his spacesuit upper (baby-blue-motif), over his sleep-wear…

(looking out-and-in)
Do you have to go out there, Bill? It's so cold and empty and eery…

Yes, I must go outside and replace the A-E-35 unit, Marcia:-- this is necessary.

ON UPPER BODY ONLY, AND FOLLOW:

Flops seals the top of his spacesuit….

(and returns to help)
Okay-- sure, Bill: Just be careful: You don't have a space-pod, -though that probably wouldn't do you any good:-- Just you, yourself, and the cold, empty, vacuum… of trans-geo-lunar outer space…

She helps seat-and-seal his helmet carefully… Flops test-tilts it… Checks air sucking-breathing… Nods Big Okay… And ups (FOLLOW UPPER) and enters--

THE AIR LOCK

Shuts the hatch, with its torso-high window…

And reaches for the pressure-switch…

Marcia LOOKS-IN:

CU FOREHEAD: REFLECTED VIRTUAL-TIME-CONCEPT HER MIND'S-EYE terrible-thought envisions Flops, as pressure lowers, suit billowing… POPS the middle cinch, and BLOWS-OFF the torso rising helmet-first to the ceiling, BLABBERY-deflating like a balloon… And he just stands there arms-up looking oopsy…

REALITY: She blink-blinks--

(slaps window, pleads)
Bill-- stop-- wait: Bill: Don't go!

I have to do this, Marcia:- this is what I was born, to do.

(slaps again)
No-- wait-- not yet, Bill…! I have a top-priority-emergency-message-!

He yields… Comes… And reopens the hatch, standing waiting…

ON HIS TORSO: Hatch fully opens… He speaks--

(cooly)
What's, the trouble, Marcia?

FOLLOW HER HAND CUE: to include his shorts--

(points)
Sir:- The cold thin vacuum of outer space, sucks real-hard: At the very least you should wear longer pants.

(looks 2 beats)
Hmmm-- yes: You're right again….: (a beat)
Boy, Marcia:-- Without you, I'd be lost, in space…!: (understates)
This could have been enervating….

(calm smiles)
That's what secretaries are for, Bill.

He dons his spacesuit bottom (baby-blue-motif)…

CUT AWAY TO:

INT. PAYROL COMMAND - 150K MI TO MOON - BOOKLIGHT, CONTROLS

Payrol, robe over pajamas, slippers, a drink, is reading late, STOCK QUOTES FOR BILLIONAIRES, thoughtfully smiling…

(pauses, practice)
You can never be too personal: Just too loud…: (reads, and sotto voce)
The bottom line is, Sweetness: Make it last…: (next)
Moderation is the soul of wit: Part with it sparingly…: (reads, and next)
People passing laugh and say, Get a job, knowing-well the hard-part, is getting that same job themselves…: (next)
There's no-such-thing as a Double-Standard: It is a Triple-Standard: There's the right, way, The wrong, way, And the way the competition-- does it…: (page-- and next)
Three-things, are worth living-for: 1. Doing, what is worth writing; 2. Writing, what is worth reading; and 3. Reading, what is worth doing…: (reads, and next)
Self-discipline, means managing and relegating your immediate success…: (reads, and next)
Failure, can be corrected only by a triple-effort: One to stop failing, plus two, because one first failed…: (next)
Micromanagement, means, Giving your engineers, room to act, themselves…: (next)
Micromanagement, --does not-- mean, avoiding bigger, responsibilities…: (reads, and next)
We must go beyond the acceptance of failure or we're liable to becoming well,-unknowns, in that business…: (reads, and next)
Job-creation is easy: A millionaire will invent the work of hundreds; A billionaire, the work of thousands…

Shifts, sips, reads-on…

(resumes sotto voce)
Interest, is vapor-money not minted nor printed-- but smells like money on the books… Vapor-lock, is caused by excessively rubbing real-money…: (reads a beat, next)
An active money-market uproots, all evils: Look, before cornering one…: (reads, and next)
Competition: You can never beat the best, but you can always do better…: (reads, and next)
If you are going to move the world, be sure to invent a new calendar…: (reads, and next)
You can always work for me, until I have a better way to run the firm…: (reads, and next)
Little people, pay the taxes-- Give them that little, extra, to do so…: (next)
If you look at money closely-enough it will block-out everything else…: (next)
A child of wealth is well-educated, if she learns nothing less than, to buy goods, not evils…: (next)
The words coming from the mouth of an employee ordering wine-- defile her before the wine hits her lips…: (next)
Never cheat yourself-- is morals… Never cheat a friend-- is ethics… Never cheat a friend-of-a-friend, is politics… But…: (a chuckle beat)
Beyond that-- What's a dollar for…?: (reads, and next)
If employees can buy better outside services, they will work harder, do more, and earn likewise… Try, them…: (next)
Think outside the hole: If you sink money into a hole, Buy, the hole…: (next)
For as long, as you think, like, an idiot, you will act, like an idiot…

Big-smiles at that, stretches, sips, turns out the light-- and looks out the window at the stars… TILL EYES ADJUST…

'There's the right, way, The wrong, way, And the way the competition-- does it…'

A view of Earth in the recedingly small distance 150K mi.

CUT AWAY TO:

INT. SHEIK LOWER DECK - SHADOWY INCENSE-SMOKEY PARTY (3 AM)

AD LIB, Newswomen disco-belly-dancing, serve, sing, cook…

(eating, consoles Aide)
Allah, will forgive you….

They party on, in their "wee morning hours" bliss…

FADE OUT

FADE IN:

INT. PAYROL COMMAND - FACING EARTH AT 160K MI (80K TO MOON)

[NB. HALF-EARTH WESTSIDE SUNLIT: SAME SIDE AS MOON]

A VERNIER THRUST PUFF… His HDV-camera telescoped at Earth,

Payrol checks angular-rate on his shuttle alignment-trim…

O.S. Dacy rouses below deck--

(singsong)
Good morning, bayou… Good morning, bayou… Good morning, dear-Dacy… Good morning, bayou--…

Vernier-trim, is complete, Houston: We're down to three centigrads-per-hesit. That's optimal by the specs.

And quick-reviews cables…

(2 sec.)
Acknowledged, Shuttle-Payrol.

(reads panel)
The KU-antenna, is de-oscillated to point-1-4-Hertz-degrees-tracking-5.

(2 sec.)
We copy: You may begin the photometrics-A experiment.

Roger, Houston: Beginning photometrics-routine-A-One.

And remote-starts the camera…

(comes up-to, yawns)
Good morning, Daddy: What are you doing?

Good nooning, Dacy-dear: I'm taking pictures of oil flareoffs on Earth: It's for NASA and U.S.A. government business…. And you, slept-in late….

(kneels on her seat)
Astronauts' beginners' privilege…: (looks out at Earth)
Don't they have satellites that are closer and see better?

Oh… we all take pictures of Earth… And our, present, Line-Of-Sight, is perpendicular to the sun,- which is ideal for this event in the upper horizon while the Earth turns…

(realizes Earth: stares)
Daddy--! The Earth is ahead of us!? Did I oversleep and miss the moon?!

(smiles a beat)
No, we are still moving toward, the moon;-- I just turned us around for the view of Earth;- and our course-deceleration, called, a trim-burn,- which comes early-noon tomorrow.

(boggled just looking)
Wow,-- I never thought a spaceship would fly backwards, to the moon! I have to tell my teachers at school, when I get back:-- This is amazing!: (leans to window)
Can we have breakfast up here, please?

Lunch; Sure: Right after I get this H-D-V-camera focused and centerline tracking….

EXT. COMMAND - RECEDING REARWARD MOONWARD - (AS CONTINUOUS)

CU-TO-FAR: Dacy watches from the window as they recede…

CUT TO:

INT. FLOPS AIRLOCK - 80K MI TO MOON - SUNLIGHT GLANCES-IN

Flops, Marcia, embraced fully suited (hers baby-pink-motif) leaning on the AE-35 unit in the closed airlock… Awakening:

(eyes squint open, pop)
Whah……?! Where are we, now?

Ups to the back-window…

(inspects AE-35)
Ungh…? Where, are, we--… We are…

(checks outside)
This is not, a room I particularly: (angles on window)
want to be in, Marcia.

(comfy; thinks aloud)
I think, I remember launching from California, -and having dinner last night top-deck; -that was pleasant, Bill;- And, I remember, helping you suit-up,-- for an E-V-A… Then you called me on the radio and said, a space-pod was chewing your foot and I should suit-up and come outside…

Flops crosses to the in-window,

TRANSITION ON "SNOW":

(recall…to dreamy)
Oh, I remember, Bill: This is where we were hiding till they find us embraced like lovers lost--in a snow storm on a mountain peak…!

Ext. Flops shuttle open bay - 140K MI TO MOON - (flashback)

Spacesuited tethered, Flops hand-outstretched welcomes Marcia floating out from the airlock… to… SPACE-JETPACK-WALTZING…

(surprised)
I must have been dreaming!- I mean, to suit-up and do and say all that.

Yes: I remember dreaming too: after you got up and asked Hal.

(more surprised)
I, talked, to Hal--!? For advice?!

(puzzles)
About replacing this A-E-35 unit:-- We have to test it, until it fails.

(astonished)
Wwoww!- I must have been Sleep-E-V-A-ing… -Aing!- That could have been exhausting--! What if I'd forgotten my helmet or oxygen tanks?! Oh-wow!

V.O. He SLAP-CHECKS HIS HELMET…

I don't think that's something you would have forgotten, Bill.

(a beat exasperated)
Consider the number of variables that could have gone south!

One…: (a beat)
Do you think it's auspicious,- an omen of something?

No: I don't: Birds don't fly at this altitude.

TRANSITION RETURN ON:

Hungh?

Int. airlock - (present)

Marcia looks puzzled, as he stoops to examine the AE-35:

And now, we are supposed to test, this,-- You're sure!?

Yes-- but we should ask Hal again:: (face-to-face)
I don't understand the part about, 'Until-it-fails….'

That's easy enough, Marcia:-- Standard equipment-testing-room procedures based on stochastic mathematical models find the primary failure-mode ninety-five percent of the time during the principal test phase interval; And unexpected secondary failure modes occur during any testing for the remaining five percent…. And, we learn from our failures,-- so, You fail it and write a report:- Easy!

Yes, but-- How do you know, When, it will fail, to quit testing it, before, it fails?!

I suppose you just call it, a test, until it does fail… then you don't call it that.

…Oh… That's so arcane…!

The key to building big-fast computers, is to keep-on running the straight and narrow line.

Business-pedantics, so early, Bill?: (checks watch)
Maybe we should have breakfast --or make that, lunch,-- first, And then start dreaming on these things.

They EXEUNT to the inner room, de-suiting…

CUT TO:

INT. SHEIK COMMAND - ANGLE-PASSING PAYROL (80K MI TO MOON)

From a still large distance more eastward, it appears they have gained on the Payrol Shuttle facing Earth but they are totally-groggy or sleeping-off their all-night-all-day late party; Aide and Newswomen are even dressed for bed;

Alfaseti telescopes across, amazed--

(breathes sleepy)
Are there space aliens out there…? Out here…? That's… Payrol--!: (looks sans scope)
How, does he get around, the moon,: (and scoping again)
so fast?!

TELESCOPE: sees Payrol Shuttle coming away from the moon.

(equally sleepy)
Oh: That can't really be true: It must be an optical illusion-- we still have one day to get there.

(sits up, other word)
Optical al-lusion, to what--? Me losing?! He is passing us, going the other way!

(enunciates the word)
Illusion! You're seeing his virtual image in the telescope lens rotated 1-hundred-80 degrees: East becomes west, north becomes south, left is right, up is down, but clockwise is still clockwise… maybe-yes becomes maybe-no.

(checks in big end)
Rotated--? I never learned it that way at the university: It was just upside-down and backwards!

The same difference either way.

(steady scoping again)
But their Shuttle is reared against the moon, -facing Earth,- and their angle is visibly increasing! Are we gaining on them--? How can this be?

(hand-rides figuring)
It's all in the angles: We are more east, closer to centerline, because we're behind and reach the moon ten minutes later, three hundred-fifty miles further east in its monthly period; They are slightly westward, arcking more parabolic, and slowing forward to reach their Lagrange-One point and enter lunar-orbit space for the swing around the moon….

(mentally computing)
Oh… Okay… Keep me advised…

He reclines for a nap… but bounces-- snoozing mid air…

CUT TO:

INT. FLOPS SHUTTLE OFFICE - DAYLIKE FLUORESCENTS (NOON)

Flops is sprawled on the floor with the AE-35 Unit splayed;

Marcia peeks-in from above--

Bill. You've been testing that unit half-the-hour. Would you like lunch down here? Or on the Command Deck?

Here,- would be fine, Marcia. This A-E-35 Unit is just not yielding to technological expertise… Did I bring my logic-signature--trace-correlator--pocket-analyzer--scope?

I saw it in your shaving notions bag, last-evening.

She floats down with pocket-sandwiches and squeeze-drinks;

(strokes his cheeks)
I thought, that looked familiar: I didn't remember having a WAP on my shaver…. Please, bring it, too. My beard will hold a few days anyway.

Here are your pocket-sandwiches… Master… I'll get the pocket-logic-: (and EXITS to bedroom)
tracer, from the master,-bedroom….

(cool rant)
Master…--?! Mister, would be fine…. Master, is for under-thirteen… and just because I'm sprawled on the floor, doing homework, doesn't mean I've reverted to age-twelve… this is zero-gee to begin-with… so, for all you know, I could be standing upright… floating above the wall… leaning on the floor…. Next you'll tell me to not-lean on the floor…

She returns with the pocket analyzer (cf box-shaver+WAP)--

(half a beat)
Don't pique on it, Bill…. Here's your pocket-analyzer.: (giggles; shakes No)
That name always sounds funny….

(sincere)
What's funny about Pocket Analyzer?: (a beat, chuckles)
Oh…. Marcia, I'm surprised at you:- That's not very professional-like… Do you want a raise, Or stockshare?

How-about you let me help?

(brightens)
Sure! Have a -lean- on the floor…: (lends schematics)
And start reading the logic.

She sprawls opposite. He pokes paired analyzer-probes in the AE-35 Unit:-- READOUT of logic-trace fragments (SOUNDS LIKE HAL9000's printed-circuit-analyzer) matches sample-trace-marks she finds on the schematics…

(pauses, looks about)
You know-- it's really, bright, in here…?

(busy poking)
Those are the sun-day fluorescents.

(cognizes)
You mean, I can get my tan working indoors in your office--? I've never noticed before!

(smally)
I'll remember to install them in our Earth, offices, too.

They work-on, poking and match-checking schematics marks…

CUT TO:

INT. SHEIK LOWER DECK

Aide and the Newswomen, who had extra rest and fewer duties at launch, are wide awake busy at his Master-Control Box:

It won't hurt them,- will it?

(intently busy)
No, of course not-- We're not, that, sadistic.

(mocking to #1)
No of-course not:- Sade was French.

(a beat)
Mmm… This just reads-out a bunch of numbers and letters, and sets his calendar back one day -like in the movie, Around The World,- so he won't see when the readout ran….

(quieter to Aide)
What are the numbers and letters?

(grins)
Shhh!- It's so secret, not even the Sheik, knows!

/ Oooooooh!

… As numbers and letters stream-down, filling the screen…

CUT TO:

INT. FLOPS SHUTTLE OFFICE

Sprawled on the floor, he has two probes in the AE-35 Unit, and she points nonchalantly at the same in the schematics.

I find nothing basically wrong.

We may, have to disconnect Hal.

That, could be a bad, disaster.

ANALYZER CHIRPS;-- she looks, puzzling 2 blinking matches…

Oh,- that means, there are two, matching digital signatures… which means it's running two programs… or two subroutines… which means…

A bug caught in the middle?

A double-thick component EXUDES… from the splay… UNCLAMS--!

Its endcap 'JACK-IN-THE-BOX'ES stiff out-- surprising them:

(two beats stunned)
What,- is, -that?!

(still stunned)
I, don't, know…--! NASA doesn't do practical jokes,-- Do they?

It then wilts, pulling back slowly but CLUNK, can't reclam.

Maybe those hardware Techs at the launch site?

CUT TO:

INT. PAYROL COMMAND - 70K MI TO MOON

Payrol reading his book… pauses, to notice--

A huge sack bulges-up from below deck… Bulging… BULGING…

… All the way in… floating a foot above the floor…

… followed by Dacy-- head-pushing her sack of toys--

Daddy, You don't mind if I play with my toys up here, Do You--? It's not like the lower deck is scary, but I prefer to be up here where we have more windows.

(resumes reading)
Just keep the sound low, while I'm reading.

Okay;-- Sure.

She unsacks and arrays dozens of electronic toys, helmets…

CUT TO:

INT. SHEIK COMMAND - 65K MI TO MOON

A CACOPHONY OF LIVE STOCK MARKET AND CASINO GAMING SOUNDS: 10-Sheiks busily buying, selling, gaming, on their Internet laptops; but Alfaseti sits back leisurely awake…

(3 beats agape)
I, can, afford them,-: (to Helm and Engineer)
If, the cat, likes them,-- But that's a wait-and-see.

Put the cat on the video-link.

(in disbelief)
It's not, smell-a-vision!

CUT TO:

INT. PAYROL COMMAND - 60K MI TO MOON

Dacy operates her RC-helicopter… straight to the ceiling… Can't do anything by any Control… Tries another toy…

Cut to:

INT. FLOPS SHUTTLE OFFICE - (DAYLIKE)

WHOOSH--!THWACK--! RUBBERBAND-TWANG-STRETCH-- A GOLFBALL ON ELASTIC TETHER-RETAINER ZIPS INTO VIEW: slowing to a limit… And back… O.C. SHORT-KNOCKS-ABOUT a Practice-Meter-Post:

(silkily smooth)
Six under par.

(even-ired)
Don't, you, dare, -spam,- me: you overblown carburetor!

We are oversimulated and our stroke is improving: We must be using aim.

WHOOSH--!THWACK--! RUBBERBAND-TWANG-STRETCH-- the golfball zips into view, farther… RUBBERBAND FRAYING…--! And back.

We should switch to the nine-iron as we get closer to the hole.

We, are nowhere, near, a hole, in outer space--! Will you, -please,- cut the kibbitzing?! I know, the difference, between a wood and an iron: This is my driving practice!

We do need to keep our head steady. Put a nickel on the floor-- to keep our place.

WHOOSH--!THWACK--! RUBBERBAND-TWANG-STRETCH… --SNAP--!

GOLFBALL ZINGS-BY, SHORTTAILED-'THPPP!' RUBBER-SPLATTER…

PING, PANG, PONG, ricochets off walls and objects about the room with perpetual random ease… PING… PING-PONG… POING…

Flops dodges each variously-redirected near-miss-'THPPP!', arms serif-T'ed, torso-twist-thrust, bowlegging, lifting a leg, lifting the other, ducking left, right… all midair…

CHASE: Ball-and-tail-careens-'THPP…P…' missing his dodges…

TILL ZOOMING SQUARELY: as his head turns to fore-- SMACK--!

CU: Flops, head socked back, arches away, slow-rotating…

INT. COMMAND - 50K MI TO MOON - (AS CONTINUOUS)

O.S. PING… PING… PING-PONG… POING… PING… (CONCURRENT); Marcia videolinked to her girlfriend [JOANNE],

(listening to both)
Doesn't he have, what it takes! And keeping that budget outflow in-line must toss his credit in arrears;-- Sure, I think you'll like him… He just needs more help than he needs a pussy cat curling-up on his lap…

IN-ROOM-'THPPP…' up --CEILING PONK--! 'THPPP…' back down…

(harkens)
Joanne… Listen; Let me get back to you, in two minutes.

Sure, Marce-- Take five….

Marcia keys-- videolink suspends; Macy's Christmas remains.

INT. OFFICE - (AS CONTINUOUS)

Flops finishes a slow-360 like a double-scoring-high-jumper while the ball careens-'THPPP'… PING… PING… PING-POING…

AND RETURNING--SOCK! on the back of his head: upsetting his rotation midair but itself bounces-on… PING-PONG… PONG…

INT. COMMAND - HATCH DOWN TO THE OFFICE - (AS CONTINUOUS)

Marcia looks-in on his renewed wild dodge-dancing… PONG…

(a beat more)
I'm glad to see you are getting your daily exercise, Bill.

He abruptly stops, posed like a mid-green golfer, one foot tiptoed crossed-afore the other, hand-leaning on the end of the driver turned head-out, -albeit floating tilted,- while the golfball continues-about… PING… PING… PING… PING…

(cooly)
Hello, Marcia. I was just getting-in a little driving practice… but Hal here, got me a little teed-: (doubles over)
--OOF--!

Eases up-- the Ball corkscrews slowly out from his belly…

He catches its Rubberband--

Here it is:-- I didn't lose it.

It's good we don't have sandtraps and lakes, in a Space Shuttle:-- You'd lose your balls, for sure.

Nnngh.

CUT TO:

INT. 3-D MIL-SPACE SHUTTLE COMMAND (VIRTUAL REALITY SPORT)

POV: Dacy playing Shuttle-captain in her headgear toy: A pair of vague Ghost-crafts approach on rearview radar,--

(military angst)
Shuttle-Blue, You have unidentified radar-ghosts painting your be-hind!

(play-military)
Roger, Houston: I see two pingers: Can't shake them… What do you make of their trajectory--? It must be translunar velocity!

Negative stealth identification, Shuttle-Blue. Use your OMS-thrusters and veer-away!

(keys OMS)
Roger,- Applying OMS-thrusters!

OMS-KICK-- her Shuttle peels left… Spacecrafts whiz-ahead: narrowly MISSING-BUT-SCORCHED-VISIBLE in her thruster-burn.

Kee-haw! Faked-'em hard-out!

Copy, Shuttle-Blue,- But they are coming back… You'll have to unload the Zongblaster in the Payload Bay!

(keys Bay doors)
Roger,- Opening Bay doors, now!

The visible-Spacecrafts return afore-- beginning GHOSTING…

Bay-door-open-INDICATOR LIGHTS,-- TING!

I still have visual… Look sharp!

Zongblaster RETICLES TARGET-- LOCKING on one Semi-ghost…

She keys-- Zongblaster DUST-GLINTING GREEN LASER blasts the first Semi-ghost into SPACECRAFT-REALITY --AND-- OUT…

The second, fully re-ghosting, veers away, but--

She keys-- OMS-KICK-- her Shuttle peels oppositely and…

The Ghost SEMI-REALIZES lit-up passing through her tail…

She keys-- VERNIER-- spins her about-face while she also--

Keys-- Zongblaster-LASER SWEEPING ACROSS… blasting the Semi-ghost just to FULL REALITY…

Shuttle-Blue, More space-ghosts are coming-in… And your speculation is correct:-- They are coming from the moon… You'll have to get out of there: You can't take-on them all!

Roger, Houston-- I still have one Live here: I'll attempt immediate reentry!

Keys-- VERNIER-- aligns her rear forward-deorbit…

Keys-- OMS KICK:-- The mostly-re-ghosted Craft lumbers-by, radiating its own deorbit-maneuver power to chase her down…

Her Shuttle dives quickly toward Earth; the Ghost chasing…

AEROGLOW BEGINS,- outlining the Ghost-craft too…

But then hers BLOOMS: obscuring all outside,--

Houston, Can you copy?

But it's only DIGITAL-STATIC-HISS half-sync'ing.

Houston, If can you read me:-- The Aliens are following me to Earth…!

Dacy-dear?

She keys --"GAME PAUSE"-- and removes the headgear--

INT. PAYROL COMMAND - 40K MI TO MOON - (AS CONTINUOUS)

Payrol is sitting at Command, turned to her in a back seat;

(removing full-helmet)
Yes, Daddy?

We are approaching Lagrange-Point-One: Would you like to watch the lunar-orbit insertion?

Sure!

She ups and sits in her Command seat, and looks out ahead.

What does it look like?

(points to speedometers)
Watch the velocity meters:-- They will stop slowing… and speed-up as we cross into lunar space and begin accelerating toward the moon….

(comparing four)
Which one?

All four: The fastest is our Earth-orbit speed in kilometers-per-hour; the next is in miles-per-hour… The slowest are our Moon-orbit, speeds.

The velocity readings 6035…Kmph 3750…K mph 4635…Kmph 2880…K mph all-decreasing… Stop-decreasing…

And begin-increasing…

Like a sloooow-- rollercoaster…: (quieter to Dacy)
We are now Lunarians:- Moon-men.

Dacy looks at him, pondering the fullness of his meaning…

(to the moon; quieter)
Does that mean we have to talk quieter?

CUT TO:

INT. FLOPS COMMAND - 30K MI TO MOON

Flops wearing a red-ball-centered white diadem (REFL) and a fresh "Mitsu-PC" kimono, sits looking forward out Command…

Marcia comes up with dinner… Sets it on their dining table behind… And gives kimono-Flops-backside a second look--

I really like the idea of eating Japanese, tonight, Bill…: (a beat concerned)
You weren't hit too-hard, were you?

(smiles in the window)
No. I got this at the Tokyo Geekie-Gookie Nip-Con, but never wore it… Found it again, packing…. I'm okay.

(not so certain)
I was worried you might have gotten knocked for a loop… We are, going, to make it back to Earth…?

(turns with a smile)
Sure… What would have you doubt?

… Looking at her, Resembling a Kamikaze-pilot-something…

CUT TO:

EXT. SPACE - SHUTTLES FAR, TINY - BEFORE A LOOMING MOON

Closing lean on the big turn around moon west hours away…

FADE OUT

FADE IN:

INT. SHEIK COMMAND - ANGLE-PASSING PAYROL - 1100 MI TO MOON

From a nearing but still distant eastward, it appears they have closed the gap on the Payrol Shuttle facing Earth…

Alfaseti telescopes across, amazed--

(steady-viewing)
That's Payrol! Still facing Earth, rear toward the moon,- his visible angle -now equals- ours:- But you, said, they would be accelerating, toward the moon, once they passed Lagrange-One…!: (steering scope ahead)
… and Flops is just ahead of him!- How can this be--!?!

They have done their deceleration O-M-S-burn for the backside pass; They will re-accelerate from the other side for the return to Earth.

Oh…: (an idea)
Do we need do that?

No but it is scheduled: As we round the moon we gain too much speed for a quick direct return, so we burn-off some before, and pick a little up after.

How much, speed, can we gain?

Depends on how close we round the moon.

(grin grows)
Shave it to the bones--!!

That may be too, close: We do not know that much about the farside topology-- pictures from the '70's.

(new enthusiasm)
Just steer around the mountains:- Let's go for it!

(inserts)
Verniers are not strong enough to steer at our speed: We will have to fire the Orbit Maneuvering System rockets to stay in orbit and steer: And that will pick up more, speed.

Alfaseti emotes nods from all, pleased despite objections…

It is not, a good idea:-- We would have to lose the extra speed on the way back to Earth, and with little fuel reserves;- We can't afford to bounce extra orbits to win a race.

This is a good, idea:-- We can take the lead again: This is my race, to win! And any time spent in the lead counts for extra valor, in a long-distance race!

Formula-One Rules?

I'll see how much I can shave: Helm, Let's try running your terrain radar, luna-ain….

Helm actuates the Earth-landing-radar, -PINGING;- Engineer runs course-computations for skimming the moon…

(eager again)
What else can we do to accelerate this race?!

(yawns)
Did anybody dump the excess waste-disposal water?

(busy but)
We'd have to shoot, that, not dump it,- to make much of a difference.

(scheming again)
Of course--! We will dump it when we fire the orbit-boosters--!

(ponders)
What good will that, do--? If we dump it before, boosters, we can get a little more thrust!

(excited clever grin)
We are all set to retake this race, in the turn--!

CUT TO:

INT. FLOPS COMMAND - MOON AT 100 MI, NEARING EARTH-ECLIPSE

Shuttle rotates to forward, left side "down" over moon;

Kimono'ed Flops, Marcia, seatbelted ready but up too early,

(yawn, finishes controls)
Houston: We are Go for semi-orbit.

(3 sec.)
Roger, Flops: Go for lunar backside pericynthion swing;-- See you again in-- 29-minutes….

(yawns)
Roger, Houston: Talk to you real soon.: (try-awakens, to Marcia)
Why does NASA always refer to my younger brother?

Were you always nice, to Roger?

(to the moon)
Yeeaah: In a big-brotherly-sort of way: yes.

Maybe they haven't had breakfast yet.

(nods)
Nnngh.: (a small BURP)
That shrimp with hot sauce was good last night. I can still taste it.

(to the moon)
Let's watch the moon,- shall we, Bill?

(rallies himself awake)
Good idea, Marcia! This is the only time we will ever see it together… From this vantage!- Wakeup! Wakeup!

(2 beats-- exudes)
Oh: I'm getting the urge!

(a puzzled stop)
For what?

To take a warm bath for fifteen minutes: Nobody's watching!

Yeah, but-- We've got to pilot this Shuttle around the moon.

You, have, to pilot the Shuttle, Bill.

Yeah, but-- I'd feel safer with you watching by my side.

Really, Billy?

Yeah.

(wiggles, smiles)
Well,-- It was just an urge…

O.S. HAL BUSTS-UP LAUGHING…! Sobering, They face about…

(loud-not-containing)
I have just figured-out what A-E-35 really, means…! It is the, Amateur Experiment Thirty-five: Designed to E-V-O and collect cosmic rays every hour for 72 hours, then shut itself: (and laughs-on)
Off -automatically- before we land!

(2 beats eyes mutual)
We really should unplug him.

(turns forward again)
Later: No time for that now.

CUT TO:

EXT. SHEIK COMMAND FRONT - ROUNDING MOON WESTSIDE AT 20 MI

Alfaseti, Engineer, pour over computer details; while Helm, Aide, wincing sideways, 10-Sheiks, wide-eyed, raising arms, hands-- shielding as though the shuttle were about to crash the moon… Engineer looks in-then-out… Alfaseti likewise--

(building anguish)
/ The sky looks so flat--!
/ The moon is getting so full--!
/ This is the end of the moonth--!
/ The grim reaper: harvest moon--!
/ The cosmic-background-microwave!: (add each-- till all)
'Ahh'hhh'hhh'HHH'HHH'HHH…!'

INT. SHEIK COMMAND - (CONTINUOUS SOUND)

POSTER-FLAT-MOON-IN-SPACE appears as on a wall (NOT 3-D); Alfaseti scans the forward course beyond the moon--

(smirks, emotes)
Everybody, Relax--! Allah made the moon go round this way too… Shee!

They quickly ease-up-on-command…

Computer displays nearer-orbits, booster points, options--

MOON LOOKS NORMAL (3-D); He resumes; They wipe-faces as the shuttle proceeds along the moon, toward the backside….

CUT TO:

INT. PAYROL COMMAND - BACKWARD, ROUNDING BEHIND AT 100 MI

Payrol, Dacy, finish a quick lunch while nearing the moon;

…so he gave them cookies and milk, And after a suitable tenure,-share in his office, chair, for half the afternoon, he sent them home-- And that's, the real, story….

So Presidents are like real-people.

Yup,-- like you and me!

I like your stories, Daddy: They're better than horrid-war-stories.

(checks moonside window)
Who tells you war stories?

(looks too)
The younger boys at school: It gives them a macho complex.

(bemused)
I suppose it would…: (checks flight-controls)
…And, We are close enough to begin our lunar-backside-pass duties:-- Let's finish up and get to it: Make sure no space-aliens, skyjack, the Shuttles, and that sort of rot…!

(giggles)
That's only, a video game, Daddy.

(plays it up)
I'd suppose so… But if Earth-men can think of that, then don't you suppose space-aliens have thought of it too…?!

(giggly)
But space-aliens already have their interplanetary space-cruisers: They don't need a dinky orbiting Space Shuttle from Earth.

I suppose you're right… I'll ask your teachers at school-- when we get home.

She giggles roundly… and they finish their last bites…

CUT TO:

INT. FLOPS COMMAND - MOON BACKSIDE PASSES LEFT 20 MI BELOW

Marcia takes a DV-Cam movie of it; Flops just watches…

(eye to camera)
Just like my friends' home movies.

(puzzles a beat)
What friends of yours have home movies of the backside of the moon?

(smiles)
I have some friends who work at the space museum.

(grins, slow nods Yes)
Ohhh-- NASA-- home movies.

I mean, the moon is something everyone takes pictures-of… You should take some pictures, too, Bill: Start a photo-menagerie you can look-back-on later: Get back to nature… Think of it as a screen-saver for your livingroom wall.

He nods Okay.

CUT TO:

INT. SHEIK COMMAND - SKIMMING 4 MI MOON MOUNTAINS - (SUN)

MOUNTAIN TOPS ZIP-BELOW (1.5 mi./sec. = 260 ft. blurred);

Alfaseti is resolute as radar altitude decreases 100 m/sec;

Helm agitated, winces, cringes, covers face, peeks one eye, leans; emotes, worries, at each nearing-missing mountain…

7-thousand meters!

(intent like Capt. Kirk)
Look sharp!

6-point-7.: (petty-pleads)
Please, can we start the boosters?! 6-point-4.

Alfaseti watches higher as tall mountains near their level;

(a beat)
Use your telescope to see them--! 6-point-2 kilometers!

Radar INDICATOR-TONE, WARNING (like Speak-&-Spell)--

OBSTACLE AHEAD: E-T-A: TEN SECONDS.

(open-eyes-mouth squeals)
Aaahh-llllaaaahhh…!

A GLINT of Flops Shuttle 9KM ABOVE A 7KM-TALL peak ahead;--

(points elated)
There, it is--! Engage boosters! Helm!

Helm keys and sticks hard left… swinging Alfaseti right as OMS-THRUST KICKS-IN, acceleration SEATS THEM HARD, BANKING-YAW VEERING left… skirting 1Km below the too-tall peak:--

(shrieking)
That was almost Disney Land--!

Helm mad-steers LEFT-RIGHT ROLLING-YAWING-VEERING amid the tallest mountain peaks;-- All lean-to, grab-hold, swaying…

(a beat)
Engineer: Dump the waste water!

(nose-hold, pulls handle)
Dub-pig waste water…!

O.S. LONG-FLUSH: Lower deck rear toilet-collection-tank…

REARVIEW VIDEO: Water streams down… to the moon below…

ZOOM-BACK CUT OUT TO:

EXT. TAILING SHUTTLE - SPURTING-VEERING THROUGH CRATER RIMS

Water-stream churns on the moon, BILLOWING A GRAY STORM…

CUT TO:

INT. PAYROL COMMAND - NOSE LOW, 10 MI ABOVE BACKSIDE

Dacy kneeling, rests on the console, face at the window… a dust storm billows far ahead, scouring-- whitening a path…

(points to storm ahead)
Dad-dy: Is that a cosmic no-no?!

(follows her pointer)
Yup! That's what that looks like:

We can't drop-off our laundry here: It'd get dirtier!

Agreed: We'll just cancel that mission-objective.

(new to this)
NASA will let you do that!?

Astronauts' prerogative: We log the details:: (begins digital-record)
Captain's log: Moon-date: 5-27-1-point-23;- Payrol commanding: While orbiting the backside of the moon of planet Earth in the Solar system we are experiencing a temporary navigational obfuscation by lunar-surface dust storm bearing similar direction and velocity… No signs yet of intelligence or life forms.: (keys-off recorder)
Good, work, Dacy-dear: We'll keep close eyes on these guys.

(props-up 3 beats)
Why is the moon so shiny?

(follows her looking)
Well, that's an anomaly, Dacy-dear: It should be as gray as the dust.

Is it metal…? glass…? water--? ice…?

Some kind of very cold temporary snow or ice, I should think, Dacy-dear: It'll evaporate eventually.

Is that what they call, moonshine?

I don't really know, Dacy-dear: It's probably not any worse.

Okay: I'll ask my teachers at school, when we get home.

CUT TO:

INT. FLOPS COMMAND - 9 MI ABOVE NEARING LUNAR TERMINATOR

The moon (left) is shadow-streaked nearing the terminator;

Sheik Shuttle weaves below among the mountains, trailing a billowing dust storm, and gradually passing into the lead;

(watching back left)
Will you look at that, Marcia?! I always knew there would be aliens on the backside of the moon!

(reaims camera)
How can you tell there are aliens, Bill?

(leans out of her LOS)
Look at how they fly!

(looks)
Oh-- They're way down there-- Like: (and camera again)
rampaging gerbils!

(bemused)
And, where, have you seen rampaging gerbils…? The science museum again?

Just a little imaginary, redaction, Bill-- like calling your P-C-rovot, a mouse, even though its tail comes out its snout-- like an ardvaark--!

(tacitly agrees)
I use to figure I was fingering the button-end… my laser-mouse must be a manx-mouse!

(smiles)
Just another one of those little things that make hardware-people choke-up with laughter… You remember them!?

Ahh, yes: The Shuttle-launch technicians seemed inclined to that sort of humor.

CUT TO:

INT. PAYROL COMMAND - APPROACHING SUNLIT DUST STORM 9 MI UP

(smiling ahead-'down')
This must be the first time the moon has ever had a bath-- in a billion years! I wonder if Santa Claus will come up, this year.

I don't know that Santa's reindeer ever make it up this high: This is higher than their usual roof-top.

RUNWAY STRIPLIGHTS rightish behind the storm's clearing…

(points rightish)
Daddy, look: Now, there are lights down there: Like an airport runway!: (tells-daddy)
Just like in my StarTrails Science: (leans to better view)
reader!

(looks and finds)
Well-- So there are!

Can we lean over for a better view?!

Shuttle rolls slowly right… to nose-low side-"down":

(controls roll)
Well, okay-- but not too far, Dacy-dear: I don't want you falling out.

(silly)
Dad-dy! I'm not going to fall out: We're in a ballistic trajectory:- We're weightless!

(sitting tall, finishes)
Okay: Just don't lean too far over the edge.

She giggles, shakes No…

There: Can you see better, now?

(already dreamy)
Ungh-hungh… Do you suppose the dust has been covering spaceship runways for millions-or-billions of years?!

I suppose that's possible, Dacy-dear: There are runway-lines on mountain tops in Peru.

I read about those… But that's on Earth: This is the moon, backside.: (2 beats-- perkier)
Did you know, Daddy-- According to my schooltime Internet researches, People used to believe-- the moon came from the Earth's mantle when Venus passed close-by… Before it went into its own orbit… They say that's why the moon is very much like the upper crust of the Earth.

(smiles)
I suppose it is, the upper crust.

Now of course, these days, people believe anything.

(chuckles)
I suppose they do, Dacy-dear.

CUT TO:

INT. FLOPS COMMAND - CROSSING THE LUNAR DAYSIDE TERMINATOR

Marcia reads. Flops returns arms full, and sets transparent PC panels in his front and side windows… She pauses:

I almost forgot, I wanted to demo Meglosoft's new X-X-Sport before we cross the lunar dayside terminator.

Dos Equis…?

(grins, busy)
Yeah, clever,- isn't it?! I haven't decided whether to call it, Mehican Spaceoff, or Backseat-Driver-Rage… Imagine-- installing PC's in every, automobile, to play roadtrip games!

Sits and tweaks PC-panel alignments, tapping various keys-- Graphics-images overlay live the moon and Sheik's shuttle…

He settles, approves his alignment;- And grasps the sticks,

And begins-- Aiming and firing missiles at Sheik Shuttle, EACH LAUNCH ROARING PASSED the lower deck… Unsettling her--

(puzzled… bemused)
Billy, Why are we hearing the sound of the rockets--? I thought that was impossible in outer space…. Did your programmer forget a game-parameter?

(busy)
Nooope… That's one of those pseudo-science foibles: Radiant-exhaust is almost, as-loud, and in-fact faster because-- there is no atmosphere to slow it… There are no sonic booms, But you can hear the exhaust-- when its burnt-fuel-blast hits the hull!

(abruptly worried)
Bill--!! Did NASA, Authorize this?!

(grins, eases up)
This is just virtual, Marcia,- Like playing Submarine on paper but with kilowatt audio and Live overlays on the other players as targets…

The missiles EXPLODE near their target… He fires more.

(explains points)
Pick any points you want to target, Its camera-routine identifies,-and-tracks their motion… And makes the targets seem Live….

Ext. space - high above Sheik Shuttle

Small cometary space rocks tumble toward the Sheik Shuttle… and STRIKE PUFFS on the moon surface about;

(cooled)
Something DARPA would like to have?

V.O. Delayed BOOMS AS EACH explosion bumps Flops lower deck;

Yeah, Exactly-- Or already has….

(a beat, new)
Is that a third, player, Bill…?

Int. Flops shuttle - (resume)

A UFO enters the display and fires missiles at the Sheik;--

(surprised pause)
I don't know: There are, variables.

(half a beat)
Makes a wicked, dayside terminator.

(smiles)
Mmmm. Yeah. I'll have to note that.

CUT TO:

INT. SHEIK COMMAND - HEADLIGHTS VEERING AMONG MOUNTAIN TOPS

Helm is steering mightily to avoid the mountains dark under the headlights; Alfaseti is elated; Others more tentative;

(go-go-sit-dances)
Go-- go-- go-- ooh-- ahh-- more-- more-- more--!

Fuel INDICATOR-TONE Warning (VO)--

CARGO BAY: TANK FUEL: LOW

(commandeers: PULLS UP)
We pull up now.

Shuttle PITCHES up-- Lifts to the mountain tops….

Fuel INDICATOR-TONE Warning (VO)--

CARGO BAY: TANK FUEL: EMPTY

Helm cuts OMS-Thrust, just as--

Fuel INDICATOR-TONE Warning (VO)--

OMS-POD: RESERVE: ACTUATED
OMS-POD: RESERVE: DEACTUATED

THRUST OFF: chair-cushions expand; Shuttle LEVELS; silent.

(whistles awed)
That was one, fat, belly dancer!: (a beat)
Cured me of martyrdom, seven years!

(science-struck)
Did you see how many belly buttons and yah-yahs, the moon-rear has…?!

(jumps exiting agitated)
No way!- You're not sending me out: (and EXITS to lower deck)
there again,-- Behind the moon…!?

(puzzled smile)
Not a problem: We're clearing the mountains-- and we've retaken the lead! There's not much in the main cargo bay tank: Remember that, next time.

A mountainous plateau streaks under the headlights, while tiny COMETS PELT-about, spurting-up GLOWING FOUNTS PASSING…

A BIG FOUNT WHOOSHES-OVER a wing: FLAT-SPINNING-UP the ship…

EXT. SPINNING SHEIK SHUTTLE - RISING - BACKLIT DUSTSTORM

Headlights beaconing afore the barely-sunglowing dust wall.

CUT TO:

INT. FLOPS COMMAND - DIM DARK DUST STORM RISES FORWARD

Marcia is focused reading the Bible and Science And Health;

(watching Sheik storm)
Goodness! I hope they survive that.: (3 beats-- glances to)
Reading the Bible?

Studying: The Sunday Lesson-Sermon.

It's not, Sunday, you know:-- It's not any, day, at the moon… just a month… Does it make a difference, which day it is, up here?

(smiles)
No difference: And this is the second time, today: specially because we're beyond the moon.

What's special beyond the moon?

(feels)
To remember that God is out here too-- and not just in Washington D.C.

He smirks.

The Apollo astronauts used to read from the Bible: The moon is a place to read and ponder: A thinking-rock set on a hill, that cannot be hid-- among the stars.

(ventures)
How do you know God is in Washington D-C?

I went to the National Cathedral, there.

(concerned)
How does that imply that God is in Washington D-C?

Well: There's no, National Synagog; Nor National Mosque; Nor a National Peace-pipe for the other guys….

He frowns a beat.

You don't think our government would break the Constitutional provision for not-establishing, any particular religion: if they hadn't discovered God in Washington D-C…?

No, I suppose not;-- I'd always thought they built it to appease God-- for when She, passes-over.

She's reading.

(reads across 3 beats)
Do you have a favorite passage?

I like the one from Psalm 1-39:: (looks ahead; as reading)
"If I take the wings of the morning, and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea; Even there shall thy hand lead me, and thy right hand shall hold me."

That's pretty.

It's special because we're in a place like that: far from home;-- and space is like an ocean.

(accepts)
Mmmm!

And then I read in Science And Health, to get a more spiritual view of the passage.

What's more spiritual? The passage makes good sense as you exposed it.

Yes, but the Bible is not a literal reading book-- not any more: The morning doesn't have wings.

I'd figured it meant figuratively: the rising of the sun across the morning sky and heading west over the ocean in the late afternoon.

Figurative isn't good enough for deep thinking.

He nods Acceptable-okay.

(hand thrust emphasizes)
There's got to be something that can be actually taken-- some wings, to actually fly.

Now, that, sounds literal!

I mean for the psalmist's thought, to fly,-- Not, just birds at dawn.

And you found… Ezekiel's solar-nuclear-fusion-powered aircraft?

The small puffy clouds in the morning, high over the sea, look like giant birds flying: pink and white and gray.

And he's going to fly a pink cloud?

(a beat)
A cloud is a non-animal object that floats, balancing: neither-raising-nor-lowering… In another, passage, God, asks Job, whether he knows the balancings of the clouds-- what was always there but scatters the light differently… Clouds blow with the wind,-- with the compulsion of the Spirit of God, upheld by continual reproofs under His Law of Soul.

(smiles)
That's more en-visionary.

Yes,-- in a realistic way: seeing things as existing, before they are manifest as such.: (beat)
But modern Sunday-T-V-translators don't do it much justice.

Too-spiritual?

More like, spiritual-eyes-ed…: (wow-eyed preaching)
Though I live life in the fast lane and take-up leisure-residence on a helicopter-bordelo in the boondocks of Nevada, Even there, shalt thine 10-41 Manual steer me o'er the tax-auditors shadowing my trusts.

Real entrepreneurial spirit!

Yeah.

CUT TO:

INT. PAYROL COMMAND - HEADLIGHTS INTO DUST STORM

Dacy leans face-to-window to see more than the gray dust--

(pouts)
Daddy: We're missing all the good parts.

Don't pout, Dacy-dear: Such is life on the moon.

Can't we go around this storm, or over it?

(thumbing his Manual)
I'll see whether we can, Dacy-dear: It should let-up soon enough.

--his SPACE DUMMIES FOR BILLIONAIRES, Manual…

CUT TO:

INT. SHEIK LOWER DECK

Aide, Newswomen, flop and tumble at one end of the room;

/ Oh dear! / Are we going to be all right?!

(faking)
The Sheik has everything under control: This is called, artificial gravity.

(giggle)
/ Weee! / And every bit as much fun as natural, gravity!

CUT TO:

INT. FLOPS COMMAND - DUST STORM REACHES ALTITUDE, DARKENING

Window wiper spray runs muddy rivulets freezing dust on the front and side windows… He clears away his PC-game panels;

(taps on side-window)
It's freezing instantly on the side windows.

(stares unminding)
We'll get a complete wash-and-wipe back on Earth.

At least we're not missing any Prima-shave ads, this time.

(brow-slap, ups, exits)
Oh: A brainstorm just hit: Take the helm, Marcia: I'll be back in five minutes!

(watching him go)
Bill: I can't fly this thing alone with these controls!

Then take my-seat… Be Right Back--: (EXITS to below deck)
Brib, Brab, Burb, Barub-- whatever.

(resituates, louder)
That's B-R-B, Bill…. But I still don't think I can fly this thing, alone.: (looks out again)
I can't even see where we're going.

(loud below)
Turn-On your fog-lights!

Yes. Bill.: (sotto voce)
Lounge-deck captain!

CUT TO:

INT. PAYROL COMMAND - DUST-OBSCURED (HEADLIGHTS)

Dacy searches for even a hint of view--

This is as bad as driving in the fog in central California.

Wait till you're old enough to have-to, drive!

How can you see where we are going? And where everyone else is?!

(to instruments)
Well-- I can't really: It obscures the radar too. But we can't slow down.

(rises to go)
I have just the thing--!

She EXITS to below deck…

CUT TO:

INT. SHEIK COMMAND - 10 MI UP - STARS-ALTERNATING-STORM

Alfaseti, Helm, Engineer, watch amazed; 10-Sheiks woosy in their barf-bags--

(emotes into bag)
Time to feed the laughing-hyenas…!

And barf-laughs-in…

(to Helm)
Can't you slow the spin?!

(grimaces)
I'm trying,-- But vernier thrusters are not designed for changing major rotational velocities; And the yaw-reactors don't actuate till reentry in the Earth-atmosphere to deorbit!

CUT TO:

INT. FLOPS COMMAND - DUST-OBSCURED DARK (NO HEADLIGHTS)

Flops returns from below deck… to his seat; the dust storm faintly flashes of rythmically turning headlights ahead;

(pouts at the window)
We can't see anything:- Not a star!

(leans-with; cheers)
We're both stars, Marcia.

She low-brow smirks… and resituates;

(sits; searches panel)
Didn't find the headlights…?

(sits)
There's something out there, Bill-- straight ahead,-- flashing!

Sheik Shuttle headlights faintly beacon ahead in the storm;

(leans to window)
A flasher… Behind, the moon…!?: (2 beats watching)
A pulsar--! That's a star, too.

Could be an astronomical discovery!

CUT TO:

INT. PAYROL COMMAND - STILL HAZY (HEADLIGHTS)

Dacy returns to sit, with a squeeze-bulb horn toy--

(offers it)
Here, Daddy: Use this…!

Dacy-dear: Nobody can hear a sound in the vacuum of outer space….

Turn-On your inter-ship intercom.

All right….

CUT TO:

EXT. SPINNING SHEIK SHUTTLE - DARK EAST BACKSIDE AT 20 MI

Headlights still on, now flashing shine on the black moon.

CUT TO:

INT. FLOPS COMMAND - 20 MI UP - HAZY DARK EXITING STORM

They watch for flashes…

AWOOGAH-AWOOGAH--! Horn over the Intercom…

(ignorant habit)
Hold your horses!

(looks about side)
Who's trying to pass us out here behind the moon?!

(looks about side)
I'm not really sure, Marcia: I can't see much out there, yet: And they probably can't see us: They're probably just as lost in this dust storm as we are.

Flash your headlights for them….

Yes. Marcia.: (sotto voce)
Right-front admiral!

He FLASHES THE HEADLIGHTS several times… and leaves off…

How many people are out here behind the moon at this time of month?!

None but us….: (searches 2 beats)
Nothing; no response….

It must be one of them:-- Give them your horn, back!

(looks about controls)
We, don't have, a horn: NASA didn't install a horn:-- this is so banal.

Then use a blade of grass between your thumbs-- or a tear of paper.

(brightens)
Paper--! That always used to work:: (searches for paper)
Do we have, Paper in outer space? NASA, NASA: What did you do, with the pa-per? I can't blow a laptop between my thumbs.

CUT TO:

INT. PAYROL COMMAND - CLIMBING FROM THE DUST (HEADLIGHTS)

The windshield is once-wipered, with little adhering dust.

INTERCOM SQUEAL-BUZZ! A tear of PAPER LIKE A SOPRANO COW…

Dacy, a Puzzled-Really look… And redoubles to Payrol…

INT. FLOPS COMMAND - (AS CONTINUOUS)

An edge of lens-wipe paper between his thumbknuckles,--

(delighted like kid)
That still works, Marcia…!

(looks about side)
I don't see them yet, Bill:-- Try again!

Flops blows his paper edge: LIKE A SOPRANO COW…

INT. PAYROL COMMAND - (AS CONTINUOUS)

INTERCOM SQUEAL-BUZZ! Like a soprano cow again…

(giggles smiles)
I don't think they quite got the idea: The moon is not so rural!

It's Flops' sense of humor: Give him an inch-- and he'll take the whole worm.

(full giggles)
Very funny, Daddy.

RADAR TINGS-- locate two Shuttles ahead… Dacy reads it:

(points to radar)
It says those are the two Shuttles,: (points ahead)
climbing out of the dust storm.

Good--! Then the race is back on!

Well, yes: It never really stopped.

CUT TO:

EXT. MOON EASTSIDE AT 100 MI - SHUTTLES HEADLIGHTS COMING

Rising from the backside, Sheik Shuttle pinwheeling bottom-forward… a brief lead… Flops… a brief lead… Payrol…

CUT TO:

INT. SHEIK COMMAND - STARS-ALTERNATING-MOON EAST

10-Sheiks, grunting spin-wilted noises; Engineer, Alfaseti, Helm, rest, lying on opposite walls; O.S. below deck, Aide, Newswomen, squeal and laugh-rolling-about;

Helm almost doses;

(irked-out)
You're supposed to be thinking of a remedy!

(still put-out)
This is the first rest I've had in two days;-- I can't stay awake five years straight like space captains I've seen on American television….

CUT TO:

INT. FLOPS COMMAND - EARTH RISING OVER MOON EAST EDGE

(exults hands)
Earth, again! Our home planet--!: (to Marcia)
It didn't disappear on us!

(cute-smiles)
Yes, Bill.

(keys Comm)
Houston, Come in!- We see planet Earth;-- we're heading home!: (to Marcia)
This is where all the NASA-guys cheer for us;-- Listen….

(1 more sec.)
Copy, Flops: This is Houston: We have you on deep-space radar-net: Welcome back to the real world, space-racer-naut.

[10 Houston Personnel CHEER]

(and grins unto Marcia)
Thank yuh, thank yuh, Hooston.

(inserts)
Hey, Billy-bard: Canaveral here: Get this-- Your mooning days are behind you, now!

[50 Canaveral Personnel raucus LAUGH]

(sheepish-dour grin)
Real great, Cap-Com.: (smirks to Marcia)
You know what the book says: Women are from Venus; Men are from Mars.

(runs up a rant)
That's silly, Billy: The phrase was obviously coined on male chavenism: The more obvious fact is that while women are from Venus, men, are from the Asteroid Belt:-- notably loose, lazy, wandering, free-spinning, bit players; coldly amusing minimalists and warped individualists; modular, water-bearing drifters, marching in mostly similar races; a few dashing eccentrics, incohesively diverse; a handful of overly-pumped shepherds, fractious priests, crashing kings,- rarely getting their acts together; never settling,- never amounting to meaningfully much while hanging-out together; except, there sure are, a lot of them, around, all-year-long!

(a beat stunned at her)
I never thought of it that way.

(breathes a beat, irks)
Some of my best friends are real,-asteroids!

He nods.

CUT TO:

INT. PAYROL COMMAND - EARTH RISEN (MOON AT 200 MI)

Payrol checklists panel switches for the reboost homeward;

(eyes closed solemn)
There's no place like home… Click… Click… Click… there's no place like home… Click… Click… Click.: (eyes pop to Earth ahead)
It's still so puny.

Give yourself a little more than three clicks, while I set up the return boost.

Okay: Three and a half-- Cli…: (a beat to her feet)
Must be the ruby slippers, I don't, have: Even billionaires have to do it their own way.: (to Earth again)
I'll have to become a trillionaire: and command a faster Space Shuttle.

CUT TO:

EXT. PINWHEELING SHEIK SHUTTLE PASSES (BOTTOM FORWARD)

Still well-ahead in the lead but farther out from direct…

And glides into bright SUNLIGHT… (8 sec. to full)

CUT TO:

INT. FLOPS COMMAND - LEAVING MOON ORBIT, EARTH AHEAD

VERNIERING pitch-roll-yaw to put the Earth directly ahead,

(eyeballs Earth-aim)
Prepare for reboost acceleration, homeward.

Shouldn't we dump the excess waste water first-- for thrust-to-weight-ratio efficiency?

(correcting aim by radar)
Yes, of course: Good idea, Marcia!

(EXITS to below)
O-kay: I'll be just a moment.

Several moments, Flops idles… re-eyeballs his Earth aim;

(loud for Marcia)
Don't take too long, Marcia: This is still a winnable race…!

O.S. LONG-FLUSH: Deep-muffled toilet-collection-tank…

(below deck)
All done!

O-kay! Get back up here quickly: Time to go-go-go!

Coming!: (enters, sighs, cheers)
Well! That eliminates that, little: (and sits, focuses ahead)
scaly-wag!

Bright SUNLIGHT BREAKS from the lunar horizon far aside;

(aback)
It's certainly not, ours!

Of course not, Bill.

(concerned)
Is there something else I should know about, Marcia?

Nope-- I feel just, fine-- just, something to rid from my mind-set.

(half-worries)
Wasn't anyone in the company….

Nobody, Bill: Just, some sports can't pursue a little fun without churning a big wake of trouble.

Did you discuss this with your Church Minister, or report it to the Police Counselor,-- on Earth?

Not this time: They can only log it and leave you with a bash-me label: not really encouraging. This is the real world, Bill; not the ancient Holy Lands: I still have to deal with it, my-own-self… and it's not the biggest bang in my world.

Yeah, but-- dumping it in outer space, behind the moon…

What would you have me do with it? Grind it up and recycle it as Soylent Green!?

No-- I guess not.

(laughs)
I guess not!

OMS-THRUST ROARS-UP for the reboost burn…

CUT OUTSIDE TO:

EXT. TOILET-STREAM CROSSES PAYROL SHUTTLE BURN 50 MI BEHIND

Its sparkly frozen-MIST SUNDOG-RAINBOWS his headlights…

Tumbling dark lumps, A SHORT FAT FISH, obscuring the view…

And stream and mist drift onward…

Presently the SHUTTLE BLAZES WHITE in sunlight as well…

Followed by a tenuous dust storm, huge, chasing for Earth…

TIME LAPSE TO:

EXT. PAYROL SHUTTLE - 230K MI TO EARTH; MOON 7K - SUNLIT

Evening Earth hangs like a 1 in. blue marble at arm-length,

A 100 miles ahead a pinwheeling shuttle glints in sunlight.

And behind, the moon hangs large but perceptibly shrinking, and banded about the middle by a narrow, gray ring of dust.

FADE OUT

FADE IN:

EXT. FLOPS FRONT WINDOW - 180K MI TO EARTH, (DAY LATER)

INSIDE (VO), Flops, Marcia, arms-on-shoulders, toast Earth: (From a late-1950-60's school children's songbook)

(singing)
"Blast off--!
We're heading for out,-er space;
Off, we go at a zip,-ping pace!
Our rockets are ready,
So all hands be steady:
We're off, to visit the moooon!"

(spoken)
Visited:-- Past-tense visit.

Kindergarten was so long ago, Bill.

And we're finally beginning to understand the ramifications….: (peers out the front)
Yet Earth looks as small as a moon.

Earth-image reflects low on his passing windshield…

ZOOM: 50 MILES back, to the still-last-place returnee:

CONTINUOUS ZOOM TO:

EXT. PAYROL SHUTTLE APPROACHES - FROM MOON - SUNLIT

As if eating out the moon:… closer… CLOSER… -WHILE-

INSIDE, Dacy crocodile-spins mid-air upside-down, contently dance-exercising, listening to earphone-music from an MP3 player co-spinning under her head; hair flips in her face;

TRANSITION: Through window frame, into--

INT. PAYROL COMMAND, PASSING THROUGH - (CONTINUOUS)

FAINT QUIET MUSIC - as she spins mid-air…

SWING AROUND: Dacy…

POV: Dacy: DANCING TO SURROUND-SOUND MUSIC ("Bouncing Off The Ceiling")… crocodile-spins… hair flips in her face…

TRANSITION: ZOOM: Room back and out solid walls behind--

EXT. PAYROL SHUTTLE PRECEDES - INTO EARTH - SUN-SIDE BRIGHT

SILENCE - in outer space.

TELESCOPE TO:

EXT. AFAR: PINWHEELING SHEIK SHUTTLE PASSES - SUN-SIDE LIT

Telescopic fast-tracking looks unsteady blurry.

CUT BACK TO:

INT. FLOPS SHUTTLE OFFICE

Flops daintily extricates a diskette, like a squished bug--

Marcia!

(enters over-head)
Here.

(looks around not up)
Marcia?: (finally looks up)
What are you doing up there?

You called;- I found another hatch.

It appears, Space Shuttles are full of holes.

NASA is either hatching holes, or hatching ideas to stuff them: What do you need?

I have cracked, the back-door on Alfaseti's hack, on my P-C.

Is that what your luna-attic brainstorm was about?

Yup!

What'd he do to it?

(gesticulates about PC)
He installed a nonreplicating viral bug to capture keystrokes and glean for passwords by detecting temporal spacing of short string pairs. Then it transmits by opening and closing a hidden window so fast you miss it on these five-gigahertz computers:- It document-requests to a redirect website in Russia, which clears the location-pathname so the browser never displays what was sent…. He must have a sniffer along the way, reading the data… Clever, really: I caught it just before it got to a significant username-password pair. And I've changed my e-key master-lock,- so the world is safe again.

It must have gone through thousands of slowly typed pairs of words.

Yeah-- well: Never-learning to type fast, has curious advantages.

Maybe the Pass-key-entry process should involve more functions, to disguise its speed.

Good idea.

Does, nonreplicating-viral, mean it's a gay bug?

Hmmm: I'm not sure whom we can ask about that ultimately.

What are you going to do about the viral bug, in the meanwhile?

(waves diskette)
I have captured it on this diskette-- without destroying it: That took, cunning and daring!

Yeah: Those nonreplicating viral bugs tend to be suicidal under scrutiny! Best to avoid them all.

(muses diskette)
Ummm, yeah… but I thought he would have done something really spectacular!

You have cleverer plans?

(grins)
Ultimately… For starter, I gen'ed-up an autoresponse-doc for the next time he accesses his scavenger pop.

HAL TOOTLES-UP a little warning-- Flops checks the program.

(hoots a bigger grin)
There he is, now!

CUT TO:

INT. SHEIK LOWER DECK - (AS CONTIGUOUS)

Aide and the Newswomen lying huddled on the back wall, are again busy at his Master-Control Box; his display flowing loaded with '3's sprinkled with a few '4's;

Any new numbers, this time?

(lower voice)
It looks like a sheet-load of '3's.

(puzzled, a beat more)
I've never seen it do this… He must have typed ten-thousand '3's very slowly, one-at-a-time….

(a beat, points)
There's a '4'… and another… Could those be important? Or missed '3's!

(a beat to #3)
Could that be a new way to type a super-secret password?

(grins, shakes his head)
The computer mogul or his Secretary must have discovered my golden-bug!

It's hard to see the '4's, through the '3's….

(mutual grinning)
Oooooooh…

INT. SHEIK COMMAND - SUN-ALTERNATING-DARK

2/10-Sheiks seated together in Aide's middle chair where the spin is not strong, their LAPTOPS HISSING disconnection…

(arms emphatic, bemoans)
Nada! Ri-ehn! K'ein! Oh,- My laptop is un-sync'able…!

Isn't that good…? Or bad…?

It's unspeakable…! Indefinable…! Unutterable…! Inglorious…!

It's only a mega-baud… Not that, much to get upset about.

(semidirect quieter)
Don't you have something else you can do while I lambaste my browser?

Are you going to roast it, too?

(glares back teethy)
With tithe of mince,- How's that?

CUT TO:

INT. PAYROL COMMAND - 60K MI TO EARTH - SE CHINA EVENING

Dacy, laptop composition blank, is sitting cross-legged backwards in her chair, resting on the panel, staring up--

What, am I going to write, in my school essay about this trip around the moon? There's just not a lot of activity going-on in outer space!

You can write about that: All the things you'd miss, if you lived in outer space;… And, you might write about how you danced on the ceiling halfway from the moon to Earth….

(smiles)
That's not a big deal: All the kids learn to dance to music in school: Didn't you do that in your day?!

(reminisces)
Dacy-dear: When I was your age, we stage-rehearsed being President of the United States of America:-- All the kids did it: We knew we needed the practice for when one of us got elected.

Hmmm:- He does, definitely, need practice;-- I suppose he didn't go to your school.

No: He went to Cambridge, England, for college,- and studied to be king,- we all supposed, or wished.

(a little astonished)
You knew, he was going to be the President, when you were a kid!?

In an after-the-fact, predictive sort of way… yes: We all studied English to some extent: We figured, The best way to preserve America, is to preserve its place in the world: Keeping guard on its present and former relations, and dignity… And we also expected that sooner or later a king would come along, who had studied in, America,- and we'd have to stand-up to him peaceably… Great men don't quail at responsibility!

So, He, went to England, to get a microscopic view of the next king?

(smiles)
We're expecting something a little larger, than microscopic.

(giggles)
I mean, Very close-up, on details… That must have been some, party school, you attended!

CUT TO:

INT. NASA SPACECOMMAND TECHNICAL ROOM - LOW LIT (DAWN)

Satellite video-feeds replay a solar coronal mass ejection expanding sideways, but then significantly Earthward,- and lastly the display speckles as the proton flux arrives;

Run it again: Loop it.

DESK#2 keys, looping the replay--

(points)
It's big!- and fast,- and wild: The flare thirty-eight hours ago was X-Six, off the side;- but the C-M-E just hit SOHO and ACE;- We may have another Bastille-Day event arriving in less than an hour, Peak in two… Time to batten down all hatches!

(keys phone… orders)
I concur on the order of the storm warning: Shut down all satellites!

We could call this one, Tora Bora Day!

(to #2)
That was December.

(to #3)
The size of the event is similar.

This means we can expect upwards of an S-3 radiation storm.

(epitaphs)
Not, going to be fun, around here: Admin gets really irate when he sees his equipment scrolling pi.

Maybe we should lock-down Admin.

(chuckles)
Now there's a brilliant suggestion.

CUT TO:

INT. SHEIK COMMAND - SUN-ALTERNATING-DARK

O.S. GIGGLING Aide, Newswomen, below deck; Helm, Alfaseti, Engineer, 6/10-Sheiks, repose spun against walls, tossing trinkets spiraling in-out about room-center where sit the 2/10-Sheiks with dud laptops; 1/10-Sheiks dangles by one hand from a chair, 2nd reaching to catch his free hand…

Free-spin costs nothing: It's the ideal of perpetual motion.

Needs human-hibernation equipment.

Angular momentum has no useful properties onboard a space shuttle.

(to Helm)
Don't you need to be gyroscoping us Earthward, toward the atmosphere?!

(nonchalant)
Nope. We went into the flat spin 19 degrees post-Periselene; Gyroscopic action will keep us 19 degrees over the moon phase, for 33 degrees, the ideal reentry angle, when we arrive at the other side of the Earth.

Upside down!

But, bottom-forward!

(understatement)
At least we won't bounce:- We burn.

(in disbelief to Helm)
You mean to tell me, that, in the midst of near catastrophic disaster behind the moon, you were computing genius-perfect celestial mechanical alignment for deorbit at Earth the next day!?

Wouldn't do it any, other, way-- I think better under pressure.

Alfaseti has gotten his fix of utter-disbelief for the day.

(roasting routine)
Take my Casino browser, -Please!- It only made me one, quick fortune.

How did yours make a quick fortune?

It stopped on a dime.

Other 10-Sheiks groan-laugh…

(rocking in earphones)
I've heard this one before.

(a beat)
I don't believe American computers will really take-over the world…!

Oooooh,- I don't, know…! Why not?!

The faster they run, the sooner they fail.

Other 10-Sheiks groan-laugh…

(rocking in earphones)
I've heard this one before.

CUT TO:

INT. FLOPS SHUTTLE OFFICE - ION STORM BEGINS

MILD SPOT-FLASHES; PC's BEEPING-crashing-restarting-BEEPING… Flops is half-under the desk, dispositioning cables:

(selecting)
Black wire, connects, black; Blue wire, to blue; Cordovan, to… Who dropped the shoelace?: (irks)
Consumer-Tested Products! C-T-P.

(half-enters at top)
Bill: Houston is calling to say we're entering a solar-wind ion storm: and to expect electronic troubles for a few hours until we're through the worst of it.

(perts)
Oh!: (relaxes)
Alright-- instant glitch vapor: Just add sunspots.: (extricates)
We don't have problems like this on Earth-- until they brown-out the entire power grid.: (half a beat)
Are they still vid-linking?!

(EXITS)
Yes.

(grabs PDA, examines)
Okay: I'll be right up….

And pockets it, and floats up…

INT. COMMAND

Marcia seated, videolinking with [Houston]; Flops enters;

(advising)
That is correct: The solar coronal mass ejection ion storm hit SOHO and ACE, satellites, thirty minutes ago, and it's a hot one: It'll ramp-up within the hour, then decline over several hours: It's going to get ticklish: You'd best rotate away from the sun: Put your fuselage aft-end toward the sun: That'll cut the radiation hazard for you in the cabin. We're telling the other racers the same.

(sitting)
Roger, Houston: Will do!

(signal-delay 1 sec.)
Roger, Flops: Will keep you informed.

(to Marcia)
Might be better if we remain on the lower deck, away from window-scatter.

Are windows more transparent to protons?

(thinks, smiles)
No,… probably not:- Probably safer up here;… probably doesn't matter.

Aren't protons matter?!

(smiles again)
Yeah: Not much: but lots of energy.

This is where we become sun-bunnies.

Ahh-yuh.

CUT TO:

INT. PAYROL COMMAND - TURNING FROM EARTH TO ANTISOLAR STARS

Dacy (OC) below her seat; Payrol controlling, videolinks:

(advising)
… increasing over the hour to full strength. Cap-Com advises, Keep the Shuttle antipodal to the sun; three hours if possible: The thickness of the engine and payload compartments will significantly reduce your solar radiation intake. The other racers are doing the same.

Thank you, Houston: We're complying presently: But what do we do if the ion storm knocks out stationkeeping guidance, and the coordinates start to drift?!

(signal-delay 1 sec.)
That's the unknown part in this equation, Ross: You won't drift fast, unless a vernier-thruster suffers a blowout. Best let your platform coordinates settle for a minute, then command the verniers off and pull your power-breakers, and wait-out the storm if you can.

Roger, Houston.

(1 sec.)
Roger, Payrol: We'll keep you updated until the last radio-link drops-out.

What does an ion storm look like?

There are all kinds, Dacy-dear: Some are colorful, like the Polar Auroras; Some disrupt Earth's ionospheric radio-signal-bounce capability; Big ones can knock-out global communications satellites.: (looks-about 2 beats)
Where are you, Dacy?

Down here.

(locates her)
What are you doing below the seats?

(inspecting undersides)
There are code numbers and letters under here-- just like under the antique chairs at home…: (looks up from under)
Have you seen those?

CUT TO:

INT. SHEIK COMMAND - TURNING (SUN AND DARK)

Helm, Alfaseti, repositioned on front windows, at command: [HOUSTON] SUFFERING RADIO-SYNC-LOCK-LOSS every 3-sec. turn:

(1 sec. HISS)
… this storm will gain…: (2 sec. HISS)
… additionally three hours…: (2 sec. HISS)
… Shuttle Control advises…: (2 sec. HISS)
… point the shuttle away…: (4 sec. HISS)

What did he say?

(piecing)
He said, There's a storm raging for three hours and we should point the shuttle away from the Earth.

(doubtful)
That can't affect us outside the…: (abruptly at Earth)
Atmosphere--! Did they use a weapon of mass destruction…?!

DISSOLVE TO:

INT. FLOPS SHUTTLE OFFICE - (ION STORM)

PC's BEEPING-crashing-restarting-BEEPING; Flops half-under the desk again, rechecking cables; Marcia near, watches;

(3 beats)
Basically, no difference, Marcia.

(looks under)
Should there be a difference, once it starts to fail?

Restarts, shouldn't get so far each cycle… It must be remapping memory all-over-the-gigabytes, to recover…

Are you going to sit under there and nurse P-C-dropouts for the next few hours?

I suppose I don't have to: P-C…: (extricates himself)
Processors run pretty-much the same speed whether working or crashing.

And if they self-test for failure, they fail the test… either way?

(leans back, pondering)
Yeah. Maybe there's another product improvement, to be discovered here: Wind-Panes,-Ionospheric,-Explorer-- nano-burst-operation between solar-flare protons.

Stormy Wind-Panes.

(grins)
Something like that-- Detection-and-Correction, or, Rejection…!

Why-not eliminate the power supply-- and run the P-C on 60-Hertz, direct-power, Self-check each cycle, And either keep the results or redo…?

That's a novel approach, Marcia.

P-C's already work pages of memory… This'll work like pages of time…!

(intent on her)
Marcia,-- I really-like the way you think.

Like a big red silicon eraser.

They giggle together.

CUT TO:

EXT. PAYROL SHUTTLE COMES SIDEWAYS - SUNNY ION-GLOWING TAIL

Payrol sitting high-in-the-saddle, is reading a book…

INT. PAYROL COMMAND - LIT (ION STORM)

Dacy inspects all her electronic toys GLITCHING-BEEPING…

Dad-dy…!?

Yes, Dacy-dear?

Is there a Bermuda Triangle in outer space?

The Bermuda Triangle is a myth-story, Dacy-dear.

I'll say--! My toys are all gone to the grave-e-yard-shtick….

EXT. PAYROL SHUTTLE RECEDES - (SIDEWAYS; ION-GLOWING TAIL)

CUT TO:

INT. SHEIK COMMAND - TURNING - PURPLE-AIR-GLOW (ION STORM)

IONIZED ARGONATED AIR GLOW… spiny LIGHTNING BOLTS ZAP loudly across the room, tracing disappearing vapor lines…

Alfaseti, reseated, CATCHES A BOLT-- his HAIR+BEARD BLOOM!-

(in bloom)
Ayeee!- Where is this coming from?!

They must have meant a solar storm.

The atmosphere in here is an argon-oxygen mix: The solar ion storm has lowered its breakover-voltage: and the equipment is arcking over it.

Sheik#1,2 CATCH ONE BOLT,-- squealing as BEARDS+HAIR BLOOM!

INT. LOWER DECK - SAME PURPLE-AIR-GLOW

Newswomen hiding behind panels,-- engage in a shoot-out: LIGHTNING BOLTS LEAP from their fingertips-as-pistols at opponents… occasionally on-target: whose HAIR BLOOMS…

Aide crawls along the back wall; lightning bolts chase into nearby panels, just missing him… as he approaches a side--

(coarse-whispers)
They're planning a sneak-attack!

(coarse-whispers reply)
Good--! Tell them we're ready with an ambush!

(crawling back)
O-kay!

FADE TO:

EXT. FLOPS SHUTTLE COMES - NO ION-GLOW (4 HOURS LATER)

INT. FLOPS COMMAND - 25K MI TO EARTH - SW CHINA EVENING

Slightly hissy silence; None here.

INT. FLOPS GAMEROOM

Game PC's restarting; Side-by-side under the desk, Flops, Marcia, check cables:

Yup. Yup. Yup. And, Yup! Looks like that was the worst of it, Marcia.

O.S. ALARM-TONE Command proximity-radar, gets insistent;

Until they crash under normal operation.

(backing out)
Is that optimistic, or pessimistic?

Yes.

I mean, Which?

(turning backing out)
Maybe they should just generalize and call it, am-bi-mistic.

CLUNK-HISS! VERNIER SHOVES the Shuttle-- mutually pensive.

CUT OUT TO:

EXT. GEO SATELLITE FLIPPING IN SMOKE - 22K MI ORBIT

Shuttle hyper-receding; the vernier-whiff smoke DISSIPATES.

CUT BACK IN TO:

INT. FLOPS COMMAND - (AS CONTINUOUS)

ALARM BEEPING; Flops, Marcia, quick-enter:

(sits, looks out-about)
It must have been an orbiting satellite:- I wonder, whose.

(into a satellite-map)
We should be passing GEO-stationary orbits right now: According to this celestial map, that could have been a Chinese F-Y-2-K,-- Fohng-yuun??

(keys OFF BEEPS)
I don't know:-- What do you think?

It's not a question: It's singsong: the way Chinese is pronounced.

Think they'll notice?

That isn't the question… How high-up, will they notice?!

Do they have astronauts in space?

I mean, in government.

Nnngh!- Could we have avoided this by always keeping someone up here?

A watched vacuum never fills.

(as-if sotto voce)
That would explain the cosmos…

CUT AWAY TO:

EXT. MODERN SUBURB HILL - WESTERN CHINA - JUST AFTER SUNSET

All windows in all houses, ALL TV'S SYNCHRONOUSLY FLIP…

CUT INTO:

INT. TV ROOM - A MODERN WESTERN CHINESE SUBURB HOME

China GOV-NEWS FLIPS on a modern satellite-dish PC-HDTV; a Siamese HOUSE-CAT dangles by front paws on the edge of the desk: nose and paw to a white computer-mouse (gray finger-wheel between 2 pink-buttons), which it topples onto the floor; drops; and sniffs, and bats-about.

CUT TO:

INT. PAYROL COMMAND - 25K MI TO SKIRT-PASS NIGHTSIDE CHINA

Dacy changes several channels on a blasting-snowy triple-ghost-image TV; Payrol reads a book;

There aren't any good T-V stations out here: They all look like three channels overlapped in a blizzard!

Probably the Van Allen Belt…. Wait 'til we get closer to Earth: It'll cheer up.

This is just like driving across country-- where the radio stations keep changing every minute.

(puts down book)
When did you drive cross-country?

I was just relating it to your own experiences.

(smiles, resumes book)
Oh-- thank you.

CUT ACROSS TO:

INT. FLOPS COMMAND - 20K MI (TO SKIRT-PASS)

Radar has a blue-green Doppler BLIP BLINKING near Earth;

(reviews Nav-Orbit-Radar)
About twenty thousand miles-- about an hour to reentry…: (sees blip, points)
Bill: What's this little blue blip blinking on the screen, here?

E-mail message?

It's here on the, Doppler, radar.

Doppler-- that's speed: high speed: Blue is, coming this way-- very, high speed.

Is someone coming up to greet us?

(searches ahead)
They don't need to.

Maybe we should ask Mr. Payrol.

Probably will eventually.: (keys intercom)
Hey, Ross, good ire-chat-buddy-- this is your pal, Bill;… I don't mean to break your radio silence or any no-no thing like that -though of course we do have the necessary means,- but: Would you have, a tiny blue, blip, blinking on your radar?

(operator-voice, quips)
I'm sorry:-- You have reached a temporarily disconnected number: Please insert twenty-five cents per second to remain on hold: Your call is very important to us.: (still keyed: loud-away)
Hi, Daddy: It's for you: Mr. Flops is jiving some: He wants your spare tiny blinking blue blips.: (resume operator-quips)
We are pleased to announce your destination has been reconnected: Please, hang up and try again!

Sure. But it's not like he's asking you for his paycheck:-- That, would be serious!

(2 beats)
I've plumb-run-out of tiny spare blue blinking blips, Bill: What can I do for you?

On the radar scan, Ross-- I've got something in-coming-- I don't think it's e-mail.

(2 beats)
Well, yeah, sort-of blue: Two of them. What do you suppose it means?

Something in-coming really fast, is all I can figure; but, boy, is that strange!

(busting giggles)
Fast incoming is, strange, Bill--? Boy, I'd never thought I'd hear you say, that!

(a beat: polite)
Marcia, please: This is government work: We take fast in-coming very seriously.

Let's ask Houston.

Good idea: We're close enough.: (keys Comm)
Houston-- this is Flops.

(0.3 sec.)
Hello, space travelers: Welcome to planet Earth.

Thank you, Houston: We have tiny blue blinking blips on our radars: What do you make of this?

(0.3 sec.)
We are picking up several missile launches around the world.

Where are they going?!

(0.3 sec.)
No-where yet.

Is this some kind of cosmic welcome-joke?

(0.3 sec.)
We have the President on Vid-Line-One: Would you like to see him?

(checks Marcia)
Sure, I suppose.

The [PRESIDENTIAL COMMAND SEAL] appears on-display;

Ladies and gentlemen: The President of the United States of America….

The [President] himself appears on-display--

Mah fellow, Amerhicans: Within the hour, just minutes after a major X-Six solar coronal mass ejection ion storm blitzed our global satellite network, our top-secret off-the-shelf automated stand-alone over-the-horizon Distant Early Warning system detected three missiles in-coming from behind the moon…: (slaps shoe on desk)
We knew, they'd do this!

This must be us.

We have therefor launched a medium-scale proportionately preemptory preliminarily recallable nuclear counter strike in preparation for the really big one; And Russia has correspondingly launched her own medium-scale proportionately preemptory preliminarily recallable nuclear counter strike; And China has launched one Long March inter-continental ballistic-peace-missile symbolically,-- however, that has strayed from its program-designated target, and at their request we had to shoot it down…. We are at-this-time determining, just who-in-the-world has launched this first major moon-missile assault on Earth; The combined U.S.A.-Russian-and-Chinese Multinational Intelligence Service has exhausted its top-forty list of ten-thousand suspects… Meanwhile, we are letting them know, that we, mean business-as-usual: Earth is waiting!

(mildly exasperates)
It's us! It's us--!: (keys intercom: Payrol)
Ross: They're shooting at-- us!

We're not nuclear.

We are, from the backside of the moon!: (to intercom)
Ross--! Are you picking-up all this?

Sure am, Bill.: (a beat)
Let me have a crack at the President: See what's troubling him.

He's all yours, first, Ross.: (to Marcia)
Downstairs--! And put-on your best: (and jumps for hatch)
video-gamesmanship hat!

(follows)
Yes, sir!

CUT TO:

INT. PAYROL COMMAND - 15K MI (TO SKIRT-PASS)

INTERCUT FOR EMPHASIS: Videolinked to the President--

Mr. President: Sir: This is a civil outrage: You know who we are--! You can't forget us in a moment of international triumph!

(0.3 sec.)
Yes: But when, did I know this, Roose-baby? My constituents want to know! And they will have the answer, from me! We can't let unknowns remain unknown, in the national security arena!

Mr. President: Can't we settle this little dispute ourselves, and let bye-gones be, gone-bye?!

(0.3 sec.)
And neglect my Constituents? Never, Roose-baby!

But, millions of megatonnes, Mr. President!?

(0.3 sec.)
You know our never-give-up-never-give-in policy, Roose-baby!

Negup-negin!? But we're winning a race, here!

(0.3 sec.)
That's what you said in the Election, too.

But, we're winning this race for you, too!

(0.3 sec.)
I recall you said something to such an effect during the Election.

Well, it's just not fair, Mr. President: You can't expect to win this race vicariously: This is no political virtual-reality race:-- This is the reality of virtually the entire space-race in this third new millennium!

(0.3 sec.)
I don't recall any such thing being specified in the rules of the race: Who can or cannot win.

Races are won by racers and their teams first, Mr. President,- then, their sponsors and bettors!

(0.3 sec.)
You're beginning to see my point, Roose-baby: The best, must, win! And, we, are the best team here!

CUT TO:

INT. FLOPS GAMEROOM

Flops in full headgear pushes box-On-buttons sequentially:

(1st box)
X-Sport, On.: (2nd box)
Y-Sport, On.: (3rd box)
Y-Nought-Sport, On.

He pushes one last button, activating the main display: An audio-visual GAME MONITORS his voice level,--

This is ready?

(connecting, keying)
All set: Just press, to Transmit.

Hold on to your hatpins:-- We're going who-do-astronomics in the: (and keys)
present tense…!

CUT THROUGH TO:

INT. WHITE HOUSE OVAL OFFICE - WASHINGTON DC - 10:45 AM EDT

[Payrol] on HD-Display#1, [screensaver hand-and-cloth-inside] carefully wipes HD-Display#2; President at his desk, attended by the HOMELAND SECURITY ADVISOR, and SECRETARY OF DEFENSE reading her book, THREE IF BY TERROR, wearing Geneva-lawful identifiable-combatant signs and snazzy velcro-stick guns…

(low unto Secretary)
I like these snazzy uniforms:: (resticks gun velcro)
Best things ever to hit America, since the Geneva Conventions!

(flips a page)
Nnng!

(bargaining)
Then how about five million voters, plus three additional precincts,-- and you keep the chad?!

Phantasmagoric [WOG:Flops] (SURROUND SOUND) morphs onto HD-Display#2 in video-game-enhanced colorifics and virtual-gaud combination horror (like mcp/Tron and The Mask)--

This, is the voice, of Wog--!

Startled,- they dive behind furnitures;

We are many… We are one… We are Poly,-Wog….: (a beat)
Recall, your punificent missiles or the Earth shall be dis-integrated truly altogether in one piece!

(surfaces shaking)
We, We won't bow down, to you, Wog.

This is the voice of Wog: We do not take No, for an answer, until it is the only answer you have left! Hah! Hah! Hah! Hah!

We, can't, give-in to your demands, Wog.

You have heard, the ultimatum, of Wog, Earthlings: Even now, we have what little remains of the Earth, already within our sights!

Please, Wog: Do not disintegrate the Earth,-- it would annihilate our political infrastructures!

(0.3 sec., hesitant)
You have political infrastructures?

Yes, yes: It's all in good clean fun:-- See: On the other channel, is one of our favorite, third-party politicians: You can eat him first.

(0.3 sec.)
Real nice, there, Mr. President.

(worried apology)
It's to save Earth, Roose-baby: I'd nuke the planet down the middle, if it'd save the Earth we stand on!

(0.3 sec.)
Take my constituents first, Mr. President.

(brightens)
Really? Is that a promise, Roose-baby?

(0.3 sec.)
Are you, going to eat them?

No.

(0.3 sec.)
Then, I suppose it's all right: I can always win them back again, in a three-way debate.

(big-smarmy grin)
Okay: It's a deal:: (to Wog)
Wog: Hear us: We have struck a political cinch-deal: We can de-schedule our nuclear missiles!

(0.3 sec.)
This, is the voice, of Wog:- We are many, We are one, We are Poly,-Wog:: (a beat)
You have six of your Earth minutes to recall your missiles: That, is, all…!

[Wog-FIST 3-D SMASHES-out his screen to fizzle and spark of electricity and smoked components]-- they duck again.

CUT AWAY TO:

EXT. SHEIK SHUTTLE, VERY SLOWED TURN (BOTTOM FORWARD)

Moon usual-sized again, steady in the "sky above"…

INT. SHEIK COMMAND - SUN SLOWLY ROUNDING ONE SIDE

Aide, Newswomen, Engineer, are running fatigued mid level around the walls; while 10-Sheiks handlocked-pinwheel in a blur suspended mid room:--

I can't take much more of this…!

(watching Helm data)
Keep, going-- keep… going…

(keying for data)
Just… a moment…: (a beat)
Got it--!: (triumphant)
We have recovered our fix, on the Earth-space coordinate-system,- And the other race teams:- We are still ahead but they are closing-in fast: Everything is coming back together for the finish-line…--! But, What…

Radar shows 4-object-blips closing toward themselves,--

(puzzling radar blips)
… is, this third blip, and fourth?!

Relax, mujahs: Take a rest!- We have our celestial fix on Earth.

ROOM SPINS-UP as runners slow to walk, sit, sprawl, rest…

Who's going to let-go first?!

Makes no difference!- We part together!

(quieter)
Does he know what he's saying?

(equal)
He's speaking English.

Building cry of "AHHH!"- Their pinwheel shatters, "LAHH!"--

(passing centrifugal)
/ Prime time! / Bug News! / Momma!: (bouncing along walls)
/ I'm dood! / Ahhh! / Wayyy to go!: (rolling along walls)
/ Oh-boyyy! / Whoaa! / Whew-wheww!

… and stop….

(sprawled on a wall)
I'm poo-ped!

(sprawled near)
Life in outer space, consists of running in circles and squares, and making the best of each momentum!

(a beat, almost elated)
We will enter the atmosphere two thousand miles further east than originally planned….

CUT TO:

INT. PAYROL COMMAND - 10K MI (TO SKIRT-PASS)

How did that happen, Daddy--? I thought all, intercontinental missiles were under control-- by the U.S.A. and Russia and China.

Well, Dacy-dear… We've signed, intercontinental-ballistic-missile treaties… and we've signed, anti-ballistic-missile missile treaties… But we've never signed a treaty for anti-anti-ballistic-missile-missile missiles… -which,- proliferated, on the Pentagon black-budgets….

(a beat)
Are you a pro-lifer, Daddy?

(a beat)
Proliferation, is a different subject amplification, Dacy-dear.

Oh, okay.

FADE TO:

EXT. PAYROL SHUTTLE - 1K MI UP - HALFMOON ON MIDNIGHT CHINA

OMS RETRO-BURN; 6 sec. moonset (with eastside Earthshine).

DISSOLVE TO:

EXT. PAYROL SHUTTLE - 80 MI UP - MID PACIFIC - 05:30 AM

DAWN BRIGHTENS towards them on the ocean below… SUNRISE…

Shuttle rotates to forward-above-level 40 deg. (pitch-up).

INT. COMMAND - DEORBITING 40 DEG. ABOVE LEVEL

Good burn, Ross: You're de-escaped: deorbiting at 30 degrees glidepath.

Roger, Houston: Attitude is wings-level forward, pitch at 40 degrees high, for reentry.

Copy…. Ever think about signing-up to be an astronaut full-time, Ross?

(smiles, cowboys)
Wehhl: Thank-yuh kindly, Hooston: That-there compl'ment be one more bright gold star f'r mah saddle!

Roger, Payrol: You've got your aero-glow;-- See you in Florida.

Reentry orange PLASMA GLOW BEGINS noticeably but faint;

Roger, Houston.

A long silent moment…

(wearied at last)
Ohh! This trip sure is taking long!

We're almost home, Dacy-dear… just a few more minutes… thirty at most.

(very evenly-down)
It is so hard to sit on these seats for days straight-on-end especially weightlessly!

He really puzzles that one: homophonic relative absolutes.

(2 beats)
Can we stop for ice cream along the way--? And get some fresh cherries?

Maybe-- we'll see…. We're passing over the Pacific Isles, right now.

(perks-up, looks out)
Islands--!? We could have pineapple mango spumoni, ice cream with white chocolate macadamia-nut-creme-dip…!: (3 beats-- wearied again)
Ohh, this trip sure is taking long!: (settles back)
I wish we could go to the Islands.

We can come back this way tomorrow, Dacy-dear, when the news-media is chasing us.

(senilely)
That'll be nice: I'm sure they'll like taking an Island vacation.

Orange PLASMA GLOW BLOOMS to full;

(observes)
Is that the reentry plasma, Daddy?

Yup-- hot off the barbecue grill.

(giggles)
Silly man.: (push-tests seat)
I feel heavy again.

Yes:- the wings are catching the upper atmosphere, and slowing us.

(searches through plasma)
Can we still see Marcia and Mr. Flops?

CUT TO:

INT. FLOPS COMMAND - DEORBITING - FULL ORANGE PLASMA GLOW

The windows are clear of moon-mud. Marcia is tracing their flight-path on colored Earth maps; no orange till Arizona:

(checking colored maps)
Neon-orange isn't on these maps, till Arizona!

(a beat)
You'd need a 3-D-flight-plan relief-map, Marcia: It's orange only at this very high altitude.

(shakes little-No)
Oh, okay: Orange sky sure makes a mess of the Four-Color-Map Theorem… Like a river dividing a city: not its color….: (beat)
Whiteout should be less expensive.: (plotting)
We're roughly five thousand miles from the K-S-C Runway,-- so that's two thousand seconds,- about.

Sounds good:- thirty-three minutes.

Talk about taking quick trips down to the coroner.

CUT TO:

INT. SHEIK COMMAND - 90 MI BELOW - CATALINA DAWN (TURNING)

OMS-THRUST-BURST EACH 3 sec. against east; 10-Sheiks seated flail-round, arms-up each burst, forward-bow in-between;

(keys a burst: Brit.)
By-Jove… I believe I've got the hang, of this groove!

If Jove heard you calling his name, he would, I trust, hang you, Mujah!

A SLUSH OF BLUED TOILET WATER ICE and a 2-lb. frozen short fat pink FISH CRASH-STICKS EYE-FIRST on the windshield.

All glare at it--

(a beat)
There's the fish… Where are the cats and dogs?

(examining it a beat)
Christians…! This time you Mujahs have real-ly done it! The President is going to be sore after me!: (chagrins)
To think, He might have been the next space alien to visit Earth.

Helm keys: WIPER SCRAPES THE SMEAR; All dry-gag-cough--

(looks inside bag)
This is worse than dry labor-- I've run plumb out of barf for my bag--!

And groans-laughs into the bag…

CUT TO:

INT. PAYROL COMMAND - FULL ORANGE PLASMA GLOW

(bemused)
Dad-dy: Orange, is pretty in ovens, and on crayons, and flowers, birds, and oranges… Not the world outside… Well, not Earth outside,-- Venus, maybe.

We'll deorbit through the plasma in just a minute more…. Think of it as an Orange Julius fog.

(super trial smile)
Really!?: (smile sides break)
You're making me forget my ice cream, you promised.

Sorry,-- I was thinking more of an Orange, Julius, Float.

(bounce-brightens)
With pineapple mango spumoni ice,-cream…!

Sure.

CUT TO:

INT. FLOPS COMMAND - 35 MI UP, CALIF - GLOW THIN, 08:40 AM

Conversation paces JOYSTICK-ROLL MANEUVERS left-right:

It's clearing-- so:: (rechecks maps)
That means: we should be somewhere over-- California, Bill: Do you think we can see home from here?!

Shuttle LEANS ONTO LEFT in thin orange plasma;

(joystick left: looking)
It should be safe enough to take a peek.

Take a peak-- hah hah-- you and your vice-president: Bill and George, of the silicon jungle:: (imitative ape-tickle)
Ooh… ooh… Ahh… ahh… too-kay-too-kay.

And resumes maps;

(grins a beat;-- sincere)
It's more like, two-gig two-gig, these days.: (looking out a beat)
Why do you suppose we can't see our homes from up here, but we can see the ants crawling on the freeway?!

(looks across 2 beats)
Those are your, aunts, Bill: Mine are in Tennessee.: (back to maps 2 beats)
Remember to lean the other way, too: We don't want to miss Florida, at the other end.

Shuttle LEANS ONTO RIGHT in very-thin plasma glow;

(joystick right: looking)
That must be the southside neighbors' freeway, in California.: (a beat)
A timely reminder!

(looks out right 2 beats)
Green stripe, north and south, fuzzier to the west, flat taupe to the east:: (back to maps)
This must be the low-Sierras, down around, Laguna Hills-- clear as a painted line.

(a beat)
There must be a better way to draw the Earth.

Shuttle LEANS ONTO LEFT in faint plasma glow;

(joystick left: looking)
My turn.: (3 beats)
My, how land flies!: (a beat)
That must be Nevada's southern tip; But how do you tell, on a reality-map?

(busy a beat)
Reality, Bill?

Shuttle RIGHTS, AND LEANS RIGHT; no plasma glow;

(joystick semi-right)
Yes, Marcia?

What's a reality-map?

Something you buy with a reality-check.

Shuttle continues rightward, ROLLING KEEL OVER;

(looks forward a beat)
Aren't you going a little far with this maneuver?!

(grins)
Got carried away:--: (joystick for upright)
This steers like a Rolls-Canaveral.

(a beat)
Soon enough-- But first you can practice steering across Texas.

EXT. FLOPS SHUTTLE UPRIGHTS - 30 MI UP, ARIZONA

CUT TO:

INT. PAYROL COMMAND - 30 MI UP, ARIZONA - 08:40 AM

(checking about)
Dad-dy.

Yes, Dacy-dear?

Whatever happened to the Sheik and the rest of his coterie, after the moon backside?

They should be reaching Earth, very soon: They drifted eastward alone a day,- a hundred miles ahead of us.

Why didn't we, reenter eastward?

(counsels)
Dacy-dear: A lot of competitions are merely over-powered survivalism that's not for young ladies!

Oh.

CUT TO:

INT. SHEIK COMMAND - 80 MI BELOW ARIZ - 08:40 AM (TURNING)

10-Sheiks wilted, lean outward;

That's the last of the O-M-S Pod deorbiting fuel burns.

(monitoring speed)
We are still going nearly six miles per second.

(snide)
A little more than usual: About the same for a regular molnyia perigee.

So, it's a little faster: We'll get home a little quicker-- that is the idea.

If we can take the heat. We're not quite on course for Florida-- so we'll have to correct that once we're back in the atmosphere.

So, it's more the scenic route: We should still get there on time-- shouldn't we?

(not happy)
Sure, if we don't bounce: we'll ride hot-seat down the glide-path!

(nonchalant singsong)
If, we get to Earth, at all, it-'ll be on time!

That's the idea!

A DUST CLOUD DARKENS the sky gray, engulfing them…

What, now?!

(a beat, giggles)
Oops-- I did not calculate, that, part of the equation.

What part, of what equation?

(giggles)
Oh, right--! The equator, equation!

(exasperates)
What, equator, equation?!

(slouched in his seat)
Should we dump the waste-water again?

Wobbling AEROGLOW BEGINS, also inside the dust cloud, as a mutual understanding dawns, and Alfaseti grins funny…

CUT AWAY TO:

INT. NASA RADAR TRACKING CENTER - RED LIT

Live wall maps show returning Shuttles over New Mexico.

We have radar tracking on three Shuttles, over New Mexico;- One entering the cuckoo's nest now.

CUT BACK TO:

INT. SHEIK COMMAND - TURNING IN FULL PLASMA BLOOM

10-Sheiks flail-about, arms forward bow, back up, to east;

I have good news, and bad news:- I calculate we are entering sideways about twenty degrees.

What's the good news?

The good news is that we're less likely to bounce back out of the Earth's atmosphere.

What's the bad news?

That it is going to get hotter than Mozart's Magic Flute, in here… but the good side is that spinning will reduce the chance of a meltdown.

CUT TO:

EXT. 2 SHUTTLES FAR APART - 30 MI UP, ROSWELL NM - 09:45 AM

A kaleidoscopic green+yellow fireball embedded in a waving thousand-meteor-standing-rain storm chases 10 mi. above.

CUT TO:

INT. PAYROL COMMAND

Fireball-meteor storm SW-behind; Dacy looks-about, 4 sec.…

(and to south,-west)
Look,- Daddy:- There's a meteor-fireball coming near us-- I don't suppose we're in any danger!?

(leans, looks out right)
No danger, Dacy-dear-- but, that should be the Sheiks' shuttle.

(sincere)
Why should that be the Skeik's shuttle?

(smiles politely)
That is where he is reentering the atmosphere.

Oh.

And looks out at it again…

CUT TO:

INT. SHEIK COMMAND - KALEIDOSCOPIC GREEN-YELLOW PLASMA GLOW

METAL CREAKING SOUNDS of the structure bending; 10-Sheiks sweating hard, flail-about, forward bow, back up;

Alfaseti, Helm, sweat their under-drapes, drooping, fanning themselves, barely speakably--

Almost, a Santa Ana, condition.

You convert to Christianity, in the heat, of the day.

(beat)
What, do you, convert to,- Mujah?

(imagineers)
A date-nut, frozen lox, ice cream cup, with maple syrup, sprinkled in, halvah bits.

(contemplates whimsical)
Sounds, New York Jewish:- how nice,: (and weak smiles)
that must be!

INT. LOWER DECK

Aide, Newswomen, roll around, sweating their underwear--

Oh,-- I'm in, such, heat!

(short breaths)
I-- I-- can't-- brea-- the!

I'm going to expire,-- in just two more minutes, of this!

CUT TO:

INT. FLOPS COMMAND

Marcia watches the turning fireball cool to glinting;

(checks watch)
Right-on time: That's one Sheik who keeps his schedule commitments.

Nnnngh!

Just like the Enterprise, Cernkov-dropping into normal space from warp-speed!

Nnnngh!

CUT TO:

EXT. 3 SHUTTLES - SPRINT ACROSS TEXAS, 30 MI UP - 10:50 AM

Right-wing-chewed S-bent Sheik Shuttle slows inverted spin.

INT. SHEIK COMMAND - UPSIDE DOWN - YAW-SWAY SETTLING

10-Sheiks slowly flail left-right opposite yaw-sway;

(wrestles joystick yaw)
As easy as a MIG-Cobra sidewinder-maneuver!

Where'd you learn the MIG-Cobra?

I was a double-agent: in the Soviet Air-Force during the cold-war.

Amazing!

I, much preferred engineering peaceful detente, to making war: With engineering you always know which colors are which: Red is for positive wires: Black is negative!

That's backwards from accounting, procedures: Black is for positive lines: Red is negative!

You can blame Benjamin Franklin, flying his kite in the lightning storms, for getting the charges reversed:-- he must have gotten zapped a few times!

(grins)
Heh! I always, blame the Americans!

Yaw-heading is recovered, steady… and rolling to UPRIGHT;

(glances back-cabin)
I'm glad they were all praying to Allah, all the way down.

10-Sheiks are woozied-out.

CUT TO:

INT. NASA COLLOQUIUM - LAST DAY - LIT, 12:00 M EDT

A WATCH-ALARM BEEPS CONTINUALLY amidst the squirming crowd;

Half bored-half dosing, laid-back NASA talk-board CONFEREES plod-on tangentially about deep-space exploitations, until the WATCHBEEPER awakens and realizes the Shuttles are back:

I, for one, am for more deep space research: We don't know all what's out there: We may never know--! It may all disappear, before we get, out there!- Who knows?!

(rubs forehead)
More deep-space research. More deep space-research. More-deep -deeper,- space research!?

(yawns, coins words)
One -among many- is for researching deep space, without knowing what we are re-searching… What did we have to lose--? At last we're getting somewhere… leastwise metaphorically if not meta-backwardly.

(stretches groggily)
I believe, we have more pressing, responsibilities, to protect planet Earth, from, incoming disasteroids, and gigantic meteorite-streams, ice hordes of Halley's comets and rogue quark stars, and lost black sheep-dip holes, and gamma-ray blusters,… and mind-gobbling interstellar ozone-holes, and super-colliding galactic neutrogen clusters.

We looked for all those things last year after Christmas, and couldn't find them: They must have gone out in the rubbish, with the December 31st Old-Years' Party budget! We need focus on this year's budget, or we'll never get home to watch the movie tonight: We've been at this for almost six months!

It's a rerun.

The budget?

(stretches)
Going to the moon again is a rerun: We did that in the '60's and '70's. We can't land men on comets because those are not land… and Venus is too hot… Mars is too cold… Earth is just right… but it's too far away…: (puzzles)
No, That's not quite right…

We've been to Earth.

(brightens)
Right: That, was the problem with Earth: It was too deep.

And we've never quite gotten out of that problem.

But isn't that why we're in this space-rocket-launching business?!

We can't go visiting problems, to solve them by diminishing returns.

I knew there was a catch in this year's budget.

We need to exploit these problems, on Earth, to our best advantage.

(to #6)
Is, he, in the right colloquium?

(stir-emotes)
I mean: The need to exploit gravity and landscapes, and other common inter-planetary problems!

WATCH SHUTS OFF: A silent big moment… then--

'Whew'-- That clock-ray-burster was getting to be a real annoyance!

POV on the left of two:

(stretched-out shaded)
I wasn't listening from this right-declination-- It was too nebulous!

POV on the right of two:

(stretched-out shaded)
From this pole it looks like left-declination…

Next thing you know: the public will be demanding--: (over-emotes)
If NASA can go to the moon, Why can't NASA invent a zipper that doesn't beep?!

All, "Hear, hear."

(reads watch astonished)
Did anybody remember that the moon-race Shuttles return, today?!

They should be turning over Florida, right now.

Florida definitely needs to be turned over-- with all that sun.

(a beat)
Isn't there a celebration?!

None I heard-of: Why?

It was a race-- wasn't it? Somebody gets First Place or Ties in a race!

That's a novel upgrade: I thought they got ribbons, for other Places.

CUT TO:

EXT. 3 SHUTTLES - 2000 MPH 20 MI ABOVE FLORIDA WEST-COAST

NASA SR-71 Mach-3 Chase jet leads parallel 1 mi. below.

CUT TO:

INT. CANAVERAL CAPCOM'S OFFICE - NOON

Capcom busy at his desk; his SECRETARY brings an e-board--

(immediate)
Sir.

(busy)
Yes-- I'm very busy.

The Shuttles are returning from the moon, at noon.

(busy)
Throw them an Earth-coming party with ribbons, balloons, cake and ice cream.

Yes, Sir.: (turns, exits, pauses)
No candles-- sir?

(busy)
Not around fuel vapors.

(and EXITS)
Right.

CUT OVER TO:

INT. F-15 CHASE#1 - SHUTTLES 15 MI UP 60 MI SW OF CANAVERAL

SR-71 leads the Shuttles SNAKING LEFT-RIGHT equally to cool excess 1700 mph speeds; 3 F-15 Chase jets follow straight…

Roger, Chase-1:-- 3-Shuttles in the landing-corridor shaking-off speed!

CUT TO:

EXT. NASA-SOUTH PARKING LOT - 2 BANNER JEEPS

WORKERS finish slinging a 30 m multi-ribbon checkered goal banner between poles in the back-beds of 2 jeeps…

2 DRIVERS rush out from the building--

Jump into their jeeps, start-up and drive away together,- leaving the workers in-or-out, tumbling about the jeeps…

CUT TO:

EXT. NASA RUNWAY - NW-END FINISH LINE - 12:25 PM

NEWS MEDIA teams prepare…

Shuttles, F-15's, bank-turn 25 mi. SW, 10 mi. up, 700 mph…

1ST SONIC BOOM--

Some look up Runway SE… scout S… SW… 5 sec.

2ND SONIC BOOM--

All look up SE… scout S… 2 sec.

(points S-SE; proclaims)
There! They're coming! The Shuttles are almost here!

A BIG CHEER,- and they tweak aim and begin shooting.

CUT TO:

INT. FLOPS COMMAND - 8 MI UP 600 MPH 10 DEG 20 MI TO RUNWAY

Drop-turning parallel left, Sheik Shuttle on his left seems wingtip-over-wingtip: Alfaseti glaring, palm-chin emotes;--

(excited)
I wish they wouldn't fly so close to us, Bill!

Alfaseti just thinks he still has an even chance to win this race.

CUT TO:

INT. PAYROL COMMAND - 7 MI UP 550 MPH 9 DEG 18 MI TO

Drop-turning left; Flops, Alfaseti, at equal progress left.

(looks across, worries)
They're still with us, Daddy!

That's the idea of the race, Dacy-dear.

(looks to Runway)
But how are we all going to land at the same time on one small runway?!

Well,- it's bigger than it appears, 17 miles away-- but this does need to be resolved: This is true!

CUT TO:

EXT. SOUTH PARKWAY - BANNER JEEPS RACE NORTH - 12:30 PM

Checkered banner fluttering drooped-between, bouncing lightly, librating neck-and-neck at top speed 95 mph…

Shuttles, F-15's, 10 mi. SE, 2 mi. up, finish bank-turning;

Jeeps SQUEAL the Parkway Bend at Runway-South end, and--

HIT THE GAS for NW…

CUT TO:

INT. PAYROL COMMAND - 2 MI UP 350 MPH ALIGNS PARKWAY 9 MI

Dacy scrutinizes for a landing, somewhere--

(deflects shoulders left)
Dad-dy: Aren't we a little far to the right of the runway centerline?

Yup: We're going to land on the Kennedy Parkway.

Dacy zombie-wide-eyes Payrol.

America's highways are just as safe as airports, Dacy-dear.

Dacy stuck-wide-eyes, resumes forward.

CUT TO:

EXT. BANNER JEEPS - NW MI 1; SHUTTLES, F-15'S, 8 MI

Flash pass a NW-cruising Parkway PATROL CAR.

CUT AHEAD TO:

EXT. SE-CRUISING PATROL CAR - MI 1.5

Jeeps race passed NW, opposite the Second Patrol--

Which turns-On LIGHTS+SIREN; pulls onto the boulevard to turn left,- but:

NW-racing Patrol with lights+siren passes, already chasing;

And SE-Patrol turns right onto the NW-shoulder, continuing SE with "GET OFF"-ARROW lights to clear the road.

CUT NW-AHEAD TO:

EXT. THIRD PATROL CAR - MI 2 AHEAD NW-CRUISING

Jeeps, First Patrol, coming-up behind fast… Jeeps pass:--

CUT INSIDE TO:

INT. 'HOTTEST' PATROL CAR TO EVER GIVE CHASE

Max-equipt: TRACKING RADAR scans Jeeps at 95 mph, DIAGRAMS road progress, vehicles, hazards, live-time-positions;

(watching surprised)
Those were only jeeps!

Driver plunges the pedal:-- ENGINE ROARS…

CAR LUNGES FORWARD, ACCELERATING… 78 mph auto-activates:--

LIGHTS, SIREN, AIR RAM, SPOILERS; [MINDER] (FEMALE VO)--

Warning: You have engaged super-cruise: Speed limit is one-hundred-sixty miles-per-hour.

REAR MIRROR: First Patrol tailing… Shuttle, F-15, lowering;

(to radio)
North-west-bound on Kennedy south-end: We've got four persons in two-repeat-two jeeps racing: Exceeding 75. We are leading hot pursuit: We have-repeat-have assistance…: (ponders rear mirrors)
We need a temp-road-block at Rolloff Road:-- Let's get these: (awed, and spins to look)
meteorites off the parkway--

POV: Partner looking back-middle: 6 mi. distant Payrol Shuttle nears landing on the Parkway; motorists distant scatter to their right shoulder; Patrols staying-on;

(freaks-squeals)
Holy! Get us out of here! There's a Shuttle landing on our tail!

(glancing in mirrors)
Hang tight!

And buttons the SUPER DRIVE--

ENGINE SCREAMS! to red-line, ACCELERATING--

Warning! Tach Red-line! Escape-distance: 14-thousand feet!- 94 seconds remaining…

[Minder] counts down Time Remaining (per 1.5 sec.) "93 seconds… 92 seconds… 91 seconds…" (CONCURRENT, AD INF)

(to radio)
Revise-repeat-revise--! We have a Shuttle landing on the parkway--! We are leading the sweep!

ENDING (VO) next scene--

VO CUT TO:

EXT. PARKWAY MI 3 - NW-BOUND 2 PATROLS WHIZ-BY-1-2

OVERBLOWN EXHAUST FLAMES (like Batman)…

Onward; ARROW-LIGHTS alternating with "GET OFF"…

ROAD SIGNS with Shuttle icon:

WATCH FOR SHUTTLE CROSSING: NEXT 3 MILES

Passed motorists pull-off-right to the shoulder…

CUT TO:

EXT. ROLLOFF ROAD - MIDWAY NEARER RUNWAY - NOONDAY QUIET

Distant Shuttles about to land: 2 on Runway, 1 on Parkway;

Zero traffic, far from the Runway finish-line, car parked clear off the road, a lone senior MATRON PHOTOGRAPHER is standing mid-road, steadying and aligning her old-fashion camera on a tripod for taking nice pictures of the arriving winners.

CUT TO:

INT. F-15 CHASE#2 - BEHIND-UNDER SHUTTLES FLOPS

WHEEL-SETS lower… and lock-down; Chase#2 likewise behind under Sheik's Buran Shuttle Alfaseti with skid-ski-wheels.

Shuttle-2 wheels-down, verified, Canaveral!

Copy, Chase-2: Wheels-down confirmed!

The Chase jets pulls-back, and up above behind.

CUT TO:

EXT. AFORE PAYROL SHUTTLE UNDERCARRIAGE; F-15 BEHIND BELOW

Wheel-set… locks down.

Wheels down, Canaveral.

Roger, Payrol:-- Wheels down.

F-15 backs… rises…

CUT TO:

INT. SURF WOODY - MI 0.5 NW LINE OF MOTORISTS

SE-racing Patrol passes-back on inside shoulder;

Motorists changing lanes rightward to comply;

Payrol Shuttle 250 mph, passes low… the DOWNDRAFT RATTLES their surfboards, impressing 4 windblown SURFERS--

(gleeful shout)
/ Hang Ten! / Rip Curl! / Gnarly!

F-15 passes slightly higher; while just ahead in the line--

INT. MOTORIST - MI 1 NW - PAYROL SHUTTLE LANDS AHEAD

MR George, driving, and MRS Mabel, ride the right shoulder;

Shuttle touches the road; pops its DROGUE-CHUTE, preceding; F-15 Chase#3 passing low overhead, pulls up away--

Shuttle-3 Parkway touchdown.

Roger, Touchdown, Chase-3.

(pleasantly surprised)
Look, at that, Mabel: Ever seen the likes of them on the road out here?

Nope: Not out here, George:: (points left to Runway)
They always drag the landing strip over there-- I see two of them now.

(looks left too)
Top-gun Shuttle pilots: A bunch of our, boys.

I don't know much about that, with all these sky-john'ings these days.

That's, sky-jack'ing, Mabel.

It comes out all the same when they wave their guns in your face!

CUT TO:

EXT. RUNWAY WATERWAY S END MI 1 - 2 SHUTTLES, TOUCHDOWN

Sheik Shuttle to skid-ski the Canal-strip Waterway at the left, half-ahead; Flops WHEELS SQUEAL the runway-proper.

INT. SHEIK COMMAND SKIS WATERWAY - FLOPS SHUTTLE ON RIGHT

All anticipating;

(excites)
I'm good-- I'm good!

Moments pass; COCK-SPRAY BLOOMS outside--

And the Shuttle SLOSH-WAGS (no jostle);--

(smiles)
Smooth as a baby's bottom.

(commercial singsong)
It's, the water--!

(also rechecks runway)
We have to roll-out on land-- in just a moment!

CUT TO:

INT. FLOPS COMMAND - RIDING IN THE SPRAY STORM

Windshield WIPERS GOING STRONG; the all-weather-radar delineates the Runway;

(watching radar)
Keep going, Bill: A hair to the left: Don't quit now: We've still got the finish-line on the radar!

He really likes that water thingy.

A hair more to the left. Living in the desert, will do that to men, Bill.: (a beat)
Then again: Maybe we should hug the right, and let the Sheik have room to roll-out.

Nnngh!

CUT TO:

EXT. PARKWAY POLICE BARRICADE - JUST NORTH OF ROLLOFF ROAD

Team-strutting before lanes of stopped southbound traffic, parked, shouldered, 3 OFFICERS wave-on on-coming northbound traffic (both-arms whip-up, over-left, right heel pickup)…

Ambulances arrive behind southbound lanes, CHIRPING SIRENS;

Inmost Officer revises for northbound on the shoulder-lane and two-way traffic (left-right arms alternating up-down)…

Jeeps, Patrols, Payrol Shuttle slower 120 mph, yet 1.5 mi;

Inmost northbound clears-- an Officer looks back,- radios…

The Ambulances bypass southbound via the inmost northbound.

CUT TO:

EXT. ROLLOFF ROAD - MIDWAY

Shuttles at 1.0 mi. 100 mph: 2 on Runway, 1 on Parkway.

Matron Photographer repoints, rechecks, reaims her camera for more runway-finish pictures.

CUT TO:

INT. PAYROL COMMAND - 60 MPH NW 0.5 MI TO BARRICADE

Jeeps, Patrols, preceding;

Hang-on, Dacy-dear: We're taking a tight left turn!

(hands onto panel)
Okay, Daddy!

CUT TO:

EXT. POLICE BARRICADE - ROLLOFF ROAD - JEEPS, PATROLS, NOW

Jeeps SQUEAL left, zooming cross the barricade to the road;

Parkway Patrols 1-2, SQUEAL left, zooming cross, in chase;

Officers back away,-- and pull the northbound barricade;

Payrol SHUTTLE LOOMS…

Stalled Motorists get out, and run away from the road;

Payrol Shuttle SQUEALS left, zooming cross the barricade;

Police return, running to their cruisers,-- and START-UP…

Ambulances arrive from north behind, pass the Police, and SQUEALING their right, join the chase on Rolloff;

Rowdy law-graduates packed in 2 SCHOOL CARS--"LAWFL.EDU" and "FLLAW ED.U"--arrive, SQUEALING their right and join:

(rowdy singing)
Gaudeamus igitur, iuvenes dum sumus; Post iucundam iuventutem, Post molestam senectutem, Nos habebit humus, Nos habebit humus.

(rowdy singing back-word)
Doggy-awesome igi-root, scen-e-view mood sumus; Stop cundam'you tutem-venue, Stop to-mess'lam tutem as'can, Son-to-baby sue whom, Son-to-baby sue whom.

Police SCREECH into the chase; Motorists returning joining;

CUT TO:

EXT. 2 JEEPS ROARING 90 MPH - ROLLOFF ROAD NEARING MIDWAY

Far ahead, 2 Shuttles 0.5 mi. to the end of Runway; midway Matron unminding her rear: backside to Jeeps, Patrols with lights+sirens+arrows, Payrol Shuttle, Ambulances, Law-Grad Students, Police, and other Parkway Motorists;

CU: Jeep Drivers grow WIDE-EYES AT--

Matron, in the road,--

HIT THE BRAKES, --the banner drooping unto the ground,--

VEERING OPPOSITELY around her:

TILT-WHEELIES passing each other, ribbon-high outside over low-inside and ducking… then alternate who's higher-lower:

Counter-winding rapidly… Closer… CLOSER… about her:

MAYPOLE: her and tripod, knees-to-nose in checkered ribbon;

CUT TO:

INT. FLOPS COMMAND - RUNWAY-END - SHEIK HALF-SHUTTLE AHEAD

News Media scramble to drive Rolloff Road;

(sees right, points)
But there is, a checkered pole way over to the right! Where the third Shuttle is going;-- that's Payrol!

Right, we go!

CUT TO:

EXT. RUNWAY END - FLOPS, SHEIK, SHUTTLES, NOW

And veer right, to perfect parallel on Rolloff Road;

Chased by Shuttle-Assist Vans, News Media,…

CUT TO:

EXT. ROLLOFF ROAD - PHOTOGRAPHER'S POSITION

Jeeps SCREECH TO HALT at Matron Photographer wrapped tight in ribbons, gagged, trying to say something, arms too but a middle-finger loose reaches up for the camera trigger-bulb, dandling it; Parkway Patrol Cars stop sliding to each side.

3 black-nosed Shuttles stop SIMULTANEOUSLY EXACTLY around.

Ambulances arrive,-- sirens dropping;

Law-Student-Graduates arrive, cheering, Gaudea! Gaudea!

Police cruisers arrive,-- nudging into spaces-between.

A Jeep-Rider remedies the ribbon, off Matron's nose, as News Media, Parkway motorists, Shuttle-Assist Vans, converge to stop all around; Matron recovering, breathes… Rider walks away-- and she's hopping again, mouth still gagged…

CUT TO:

INT. PAYROL COMMAND - 12:35 PM (AS CONTINUOUS)

The congregation awaits; Dacy checks her wrist watch--

Right on time!

(to videolink)
Wheels stop,-- Houston.

We copy, Payrol.

Payrol: This is Canaveral: Welcome, to Florida, Mr. Payrol!

Thank you, Cap-Com.

(to videolink)
Can you take us to your leader?!

(lightly)
Welcome to Earth, spaceling: I'll ask the President about that!

Thank you, Cap-Com.

(to Dacy)
You already know the President.

This is my publicity stunt.

(mouthes)
Oh.

CUT TO:

EXT. MATRON GROUND ZERO

CU: Matron Photographer finger launches the trigger-bulb:--

CAMERA FLASH discharges in her face-- FROZEN… POLARIZING… GLARE subsides, Polarization melts, Unfreezes-- she blinks…

NASA TEAMS roll-up Porta-platforms to the Shuttles hatches;

FLOPS HATCH opens. Flops, Marcia, appear to crowd APPLAUSE, And their platform descends… into tossed ROSES…

PAYROL HATCH open; Payrol, Dacy, platform-descend to crowd APPLAUSE and tossed ROSES…

Flops, Marcia, Step off the Platform, AND THROUGH THE CROWD approach Sheik Shuttle--

SHEIK HATCH open; Sheik, Helm, Engineer, Aide, exit wobbly; followed by 10-Sheiks crawling hands-and-knees to APPLAUSE;

Sheik platform descends… The Newswomen peek from the hatch;

(watching Sheiks)
Weren't they alot taller before?

(a beat-- to Marcia)
Maybe they're suffering bone-loss from days of weightlessness: They should have exercised with one-ton barbells.

(smirks)
That's sadistic.

(counter-grins)
Grin-istic: In outer space they don't have weight.

(and smiles)
They are still, heavy: And symptoms take years and are not that severe.

Crowd rolls-in, CLAPPING, CHEERS, hugs, kisses; Revealing--

B.G. Behind a SHUTTLE SSME: CHILDREN play with SPARKLERS…

Officials tape-measure distances from Shuttles to Matron Photographer's unwrapped nose: Payrol's is 1 inch-nearest;

(FINAL CREDITS SCROLL)

ICE CREAM MELODY truck approaches b.g.

Racers and Officials gathered adjacent to Matron-center:

Three Mayors fill a Golden Winner's Cup with orange juices;

Nearest-Winner, and First Place by an inch-- for not-overly cheating:

ROUND LAUGHS and CLAPS as Official concludes--

Mr. Payrol, And his daughter, Dacy-dear!

FULL APPLAUSE as ASSISTANTS bestow a wreath figure-8'ed on Payrol and Dacy together… Then the Cup-- which they sip… And dripping juice, bow to the audience LOUDER APPLAUSE…

B.G. One Child jumps extra-high, WAVING FOUR SPARKLERS--
FLOOM! The Shuttle SSME 'blasts a fart'… And They laugh…

Tied-- for Second-Place, Mr. Flops, of MegloSoft, And, Sheik Al Faseti, Prince-- of Bubiyan Minor…!

APPLAUSE as Assistants bestow a wreath figure-8'ed on Flops and Alfaseti together… and Flops first, Alfaseti yielding, And vice vrs.-- alternately miss to shake hands…

Marcia congratulates Dacy, shaking hands….

Female Reporters pose hamming a PHOTO-OP with Sheik's Aide hunk: MULTIPLE FLASH-FREEZES… and the GLARE subsides….

Gathering about the Matron Photographer still gagged and vigorously dandling the trigger for a picture, Payrol bestows his wreath, And gives her a kiss--

FLASH FROZEN! by her exploding flashbulb… and the GLARE subsides-- as the Ice Cream Melody truck arrives center:

Ice creams are quickly bulk-served to everyone about…

A FAMILY CAR pulls up-- GREENISH-BROWN TOURISTS:

(licking ice cream)
Now this, is Just-In-Time technology!

(licking ice cream)
NASA's finest!

(leans out window)
We're looking for Key West Florida: Can you point us…?

(finds south, points)
It's south of here.

Thank you.: (inside)
I'd thought it'd be west, of here.: (leans out again, late)
Can we go this way?

The car drives away, Rolloff Road SW to the Shuttle Runway.

EXT. AROUND-AND-ABOVE SHUTTLE RUNWAY - (AS CONTINUOUS)

SLOWLY UP on the congregation, keeping a hint that the lone car turns and drives down the Shuttle Runway SE…

SKY-DOLLY: around both foci, backing to miles away--

The car, coming fast… lifts-off… rotates… coming up…

SUN GLEAMS the windshield… and it flies close, PASSING--

IN FOCUS: The NOW-BROWN-GREEN family smiling, WIFE driving--

EASTWARD, to the Saturn-like-halfmoonrise with a ring arc…

HOLD TILL the last Credits are off…

FADE OUT

THE END.

Petry System Family Wision USA

presents

(a spec'script)

The Great Space Race
-of the twenty-first century-

a space science fiction romantic adventure comedy, PG-13 Sci²fi feature

Mr. Raymond Kenneth Petry, Strategic-Director
a Wision--SesQuaTercet USA production

Three eccentric billionaires launch three space shuttles
in a great space-race to the moon backside and back

"And they're off ... way-way-way-way off!"

[index][script][music][sets&settings][budget][prospectus][roles]

[Music specified in this screenplay is the Strategic Director's selection]

script

[final credits (tbd)]

digital music [var] © [tbd; extant works, Screenwriter's selections and annotations; not otherwise representative of project Sesquatercet]

The theory of measurement propounded in this work is not to be cited (as) considering contraband or corpses; Nor are the intellectual appurtenances hereïn to be used for or in the commission of crimes against persons, peoples, properties, or powers (States).

Petry System Family Wision USA

presents

(a spec'script)

The Great Space Race -of the twenty-first century-

a space science fiction romantic adventure comedy, PG-13 Sci²fi feature

Mr. Raymond Kenneth Petry, Strategic-Director a Wision--SesQuaTercet USA production

Three eccentric billionaires launch three space shuttles in a great space-race to the moon backside and back

"And they're off ... way-way-way-way off!"

[index][script][music][sets&settings][budget][prospectus][roles]

[Music specified in this screenplay is the Strategic Director's selection]

script

[final credits (tbd)]

digital music [var] © [tbd; extant works, Screenwriter's selections and annotations; not otherwise representative of project Sesquatercet]

The theory of measurement propounded in this work is not to be cited (as) considering contraband or corpses; Nor are the intellectual appurtenances hereïn to be used for or in the commission of crimes against persons, peoples, properties, or powers (States).

The Great Space Race
-of the twenty-first century-

Mr. Raymond Kenneth Petry, Strategic-Director
a Wision--SesQuaTercet USA production

Three eccentric billionaires launch three space shuttles
in a great space-race to the moon backside and back