Back to the 1st half: MAYOR <--
The (high, vaulted) ceiling MORPHS into the starry NIGHT SKY above. The embedded gazillion tiny LIGHTS display a CAROUSEL of light/color patterns: fireworks, stars, nebulae, the Milky Way, dawn, landscapes, banners, portraits...
Eagerly WATCHED by the horde of NOBLEMEN, notables, their glittering LADIES, servants, (armed) Guards, a small ORCHESTRA (playing soft accompanying music)...
CAPTION:
2 hours to Midnight
On the far side, opposite the great DOORS, King LEPOLD, splendidly wrapped in his FLAMING Aura, sits on his (artistically CARVED) massive METAL THRONE (atop a raised platform with a few STEPS), also happy watching.
As the light display (& music) ENDS, lights un-dim, applause ensues!
LEN, before the Throne, BOWS to the clapping King.
WIEN, standing beside the Throne, next to a glass display case housing the king's new CROWN (metal+jewels), keeps her cool.
As LEN retreats, LEPOLD signals to the Master of Ceremonies.
(carrying)
May the King's Ball commence!
The Orchestra starts PLAYING. The Nobility, arranged in PAIRS & GROUPS, starts a stately DANCE. The ceiling displays accompanying MOTIFS.
Approaching:
We're very glad you could share these momentous events with us, Ms. Mayor, in between all your travels and other business.
Reciprocating:
I've visited many Cities and Temples these past few days, learning the latest developments. It's a pleasure when personal interest aligns with Official duties.
Indeed it is. Let's find a quieter place to talk, shall we? We have time before the Big Finish.
Arm-in-arm like 2 good friends, OFF they go. Only a few guests NOTICE.
Near the center of the display, a silver pearl: TERMINUS.
CAPTION:
Inter-Kingdoms Traffic Control
and Committee of Arbitration
FADE IN:
(under joint supervision)
The SCARED TECHS are all looking at:
2 Anacreonian OFFICERS + 3 civilians (janitors et al) behind 'em, w/ drawn (smoking) GUNS.
At their feet, 2 CORPSES (1 Smyrnian), both their guns + 4 surrendering gun-dropping (foreign) OFFICERS.
SWITCH/FADE TO:
(under Anacreon Martial Law)
# HIGH PALACE ROOM. Less modernized than Lepold's. Brightly lit LAMPS. Active FIREPLACE. A full-size PORTRAIT of WARLORD (on his high horse). A complete DRESSING TABLE. Antique BOOKS.
Around a small table with a couple old LIQUOR BOTTLES:
Another 2 Cities completed their renewed energy grids. 6 more will in the coming semester. Together with the new Temples, we'll reach 53% of urban areas and 62% of all population in the 4 Kingdoms.
Filling 2 glasses of RED WINE:
Hard work. No wonder people love their Holidays. But I didn't quite expect this whole City turned into a massive Festival! We have no comparable spectacles on Terminus, you know.
Offering 1 glass:
Only a sample of everything Anacreon has to offer. Like this Locris wine, 2 centuries in age, one of the last vintages before the Zeonian Revolt.
TOASTING:
A most royal drink! The Foundation is aware of all our neighbors offer, Princess Wien. The good and the undesirable.
And who made you the judges of that? Hari Seldon and his vaunted PsychoHistory? Or was it that figment of your propaganda and your so-called miracles, the Galactic Spirit?
That Religion you so despise has made the arduous job of reintroducing Science and Technology to a tired and wary populace immensely easier, nurturing the longest period of peace and prosperity this corner of the Galaxy has known in centuries.
Sipping her wine:
It also enshrines the ruling Royals of each Kingdom as Divine and thus absolute. Very convenient for all involved!
As my Father says, some weapons point both ways. But unlike him, I'm ready to negotiate with you: We know your Fleet isn't where their exercises should have happened. Don't think you'll fool the other Kingdoms for long either. It is only fair to warn you that some mistakes can be costly.
I'm not my father: I won't underestimate you Academic rascals, and it matters little if you can guess what's coming. Surrender now and avoid the worst!
That won't be necessary: this time there won't be any last-minute coalition of the weaker Kingdoms able to keep our Forces from achieving total victory!
(incredulous, upset) Civilians watch long lines of SOLDIERS enter 'em!
BACK TO:
So it's true: you don't want only Terminus, and you'll endanger everyone in the Province to reach your goals!
(fierce)
They aren't only my goals! This precarious Truce has lasted long enough, and it's in everyone's interest that the Province of Anacreon is made whole again!
Not if you try to do it by force. It won't work: Trantor's Galactic Empire failed at it, and you won't fare better.
Spare me your hollow Philosophies: You are in no position to stop me, or Anacreon's Fleet, Ms. Hardin. Soldiers guard all the doors to these rooms: Consider yourself a Prisoner of War!
Let the SPIRIT guide you!
VERISOF (in a simple TUNIC + belt) alone (humming the music) concentrated upon a half-dismantled MACHINE on a WORKBENCH.
CAPTION:
THESSALEKIAN TEMPLE
A nearby (multilayered, graphical) DISPLAY changes as he PROBES the machine's INNARDS.
Gotcha!
Suddenly OPENING a door:
Your Holiness! Sacrilege!!
BACK TO:
Emptying her glass:
I don't need to do a thing: Historical and Societal forces greater than anything you or I could wield (or even comprehend) will take care of you. Seldon's math guarantees it even if we don't understand how. Listen before it is too late!
I thought you smart enough to avoid the trap of believing your own self-aggrandizing hocus-pocus. Your Prophet is no more marvelous than the Nucleics energizing your machines, or the metals they're built of.
Adjusting his CRIMSON robe, VERISOF watches:
(far) Below, soldiers RACE upstairs!
BACK TO:
In the last few hours all your Temples have been put under Martial Law, your Priests detained pending trial for Treason, and the machinery of your 'miracles' operating under loyal hands. Your off-world Trading posts and ships will soon follow.
LEN can barely conceal her SHOCK.
Just in case someone was thinking of a last-minute dirty trick.
Trotting, silver BATON in hand, VERISOF turns a corner, STOPS, raises his hands before:
A SQUAD pointing guns + BLASTERS at him!
His baton DROPS to the floor.
BACK TO:
Soldiers enter with a SCREEN, SETUP it on a table.
You don't want to miss anything of Lepold's Crowning Ceremony, specially his first Speech as absolute King, before all the inhabitants of the Kingdom, denouncing your dastardly plotting and treachery!
The Screen is SWITCHED ON. It displays the ongoing ballroom PARTY.
(gloating)
You're no longer the Chief Spiritual Advisor and Chaplain of the Fleet, Master Theo. Your humbug accomplices in other ships are also being dealt with.
In front, in an old-yet-good pale-red ROBE, HELD (none-too-gently) by soldiers:
(50s, upset)
Attacking the Foundation is an act of appalling wickedness, an unforgivable sin!
Drawing his SWORD & deftly putting its tip next to Aporat's THROAT:
Cautiously offering a confiscated bronze-ish BATON:
He carried only this Magic Wand, Sir!
Taking & INSPECTING it:
Brandishing it towards the ceiling LIGHTS, he PRESSES a tiny/flush BUTTON.
(Half) the lights blink OFF. Then ON. As do many Screens.
BACK TO:
I didn't think you desperate enough to try something so risky. Not only for your Fleet. Do you have the slightest idea how your own people will react to an unprovoked assault on the center of their Religion?
A CLOUDY green
94.5 FLOATS behind.
Our subjects don't need any more of your lies. They'll bow to their high-born King, his lethal holy Aura, his unique flying Throne, and his loyal armed Troops, as they've always done!
I'm... ready... to make you an offer, if you relent, admit that we're all better than anyone could have hoped a generation ago, and state the improvements you wish accomplished. Your people is ready for a new life, they worked hard for it, deserve it. You only need to guide them, or step aside.
The SOLID door UNLOCKS, opens.
PUSHED IN by soldiers:
(angry)
You'll regret it, Admiral! Not even this monstrosity of a warship is a match for the Galactic Spirit!
From the corridor:
Spare me your parlor tricks, mountebank, or it'll be the Airlock!
More soldiers SHOVE inside a protesting FLAILING ACOLYTE (early 10s, w/ tunic-ish yellow ROBE).
That is your flock now. Tend to it!
The cell's door CLANGS shut!
BACK TO:
And be again slaves, with Terminus as master instead of Trantor? Never! I'm tired of the Foundation's insults: Of having a glorified Electrician without a drop of noble blood in his veins installed as High Priest and Great Ambassador to our Court!
Pointing an ACCUSING FINGER:
Of getting a used-machinery Salesman, a commoner and beggar, as top Priest and minder in the Royal Fleet! The dregs of the gutter, devoted only to deceiving and money-making!
If you're talking about Poly Verisof and Theo Aporat, their vocation is to serve, both the Foundation and the people of the 4 Kingdoms.
(firm)
Spare me the blessed nonsense. It may be easy to sell it to others, but not to me, nor Lepold: We'll reunite the people of the 4 Kingdoms! A firm, common guidance is the best for them.
TURNING to leave:
Your Priesthood has done enough, but Spirits, ghosts, riddles and threats won't delay us anymore! It'll soon be over: I'm going to give the King his new Crown, whose newest jewel will be Terminus, and soon the rest of the Province. Make yourself at home!
A Guard CLOSES the door behind her.
Helping ACOLYTE SIT on the cot:
(calm)
Don't be afraid, my boy, for their mundane power pales before our Spiritual reserves. They can kill, but they cannot bestow the gift of life and eternity. Have I told you how the Galactic Spirit saved me?
ACOLYTE shakes head.
Cleaning the boy's tearful face with a piece of cloth:
I was ill, a poor wretch full of pain, for half my body was at war against the other half, and had been for years. Abandoned, faithless, I could barely walk or beg for mercy. Only death awaited me, for I was a sinner, my life vain...
Fishing an Emergency Ration Bar from an inner pocket:
Then the holy Priests at one of the big Temples took me, and trust me into the Spirit's bosom. I fell into nothingness, Time itself stopped to give me, the least of the least, a fighting chance!
Giving ACOLYTE the BAR:
I don't know how or why, but I emerged on the other side of darkness, cured, whole again, groping for light.
Searching & SCRATCHING around the door:
I cried in joy and bewilderment, and they, blessed be, assuaged my fears, and showed me everything: the power of prayer and virtue, the awesome wonders of Science.
He DETACHES a tiny cordless NucleoBULB from the upper doorframe, PUTS it in the calmed ACOLYTE's free hand.
(animated)
I've served the Holy Spirit ever since, nearly half my life, and I've witnessed miracles untold. His Light lights my heart!
At his FINGERSNAP the self-powered Nucleobulb SWITCHES ON! (pale soft light)
ACOLYTE SMILES, finishes his ration.
Hand over heart:
Even here, in the darkest hour in the darkest dungeon in the middle of the dark unending void, the Spirit is with us, protecting the faithful. What are swords or guns against Him? Our time will come!
KNEELING:
Pray with me, boy. Not for our insignificant lives, but for the endangered souls of those who'd harm the holy Foundation!
On his knees, bowing slightly, the tiny LIGHT held between his clasped hands:
APORAT smiles, gently directs the boy to raise his hands to the forehead, does the same...
A big (white) TABLE fills most of the space. Seated around, 35-45 COUNCILLORS (of varied ages, sizes, genders, styles) each with a DATAPAD (+ a glass of water/liquor) in front.
The table's big (holo)SCREEN displays DEEP SPACE TELEMETRY:
It's a DYNAMIC gravity-wave-y SCAN (white on black) of part of the Province's map. Stars look FUZZY. In between, 1000s of fuzzy tiny PINPRICKS, each surrounded by fuzzy tiny WAVES (not unlike pebbles thrown into a lake). Stable things have tiny LABELS attached, with NAMES & other info. When something VANISHES, its label does too. When something APPEARS, it takes a while for a label to ATTACH to it.
I thought it was exceedingly hard to locate a single hyper-splash in a sea of them, and link it to a particular ship, due to the sheer amount of ships of similar size and make that could have made it... in Theory.
Pointing:
In Practice, our logistics Databanks help with entry Vectors and grouping Patterns. It's a nightmare for civilian craft, but not so much for warships, less numerous and varied. As for a mammoth BattleCruiser unique in the Province...
A big GROUP of 'pebbles' (1 of 'em not so tiny) SPLASHES a corner of the SCREEN. The display CENTERS on 'em.
From the row of guest seats along the wall:
Particularly when there's little doubt about its ultimate destination. Plus, we put Hyper-Trackers on most of 'em.
(standing)
Anacreon's Fleet will orbit our heads in 20-25 hours. Smyrno and their allies know they cannot win, so they're sending mainly light Destroyers and Bombers to make good on their threat of leaving only radioactive ruins for Anacreon to take. They travel faster, will arrive at about the same time.
(grim)
There was never a doubt why the Peace Treaties forbade us to enlarge our City Shield or build Ground Defenses. For 3 decades we've been hostages in our own home!
What about our Temples and Priests in the other Kingdoms?
Without Terminus, the subservient Foundation splinters won't last long. Seldon's Plan will be over. Surrender is not an option!
All EYE:
(small)
I didn't have all the information!
... our only option is to let things run their course, as Hari Seldon probably predicted. Everybody please confirm your Vote in what may be our last day on this world.
What if...? What if we're misreading the whole situation and this is a huge mistake? We could be condemning ourselves! What if Seldon was wrong, and our Future is impossible to chart and plan for?
Most GLARE at him. Others eye HARDIN.
LEE places a firm hand on the PAD before him.
1 after another, all (hesitant or not) do the same on theirs. SERMAK last.
LEE shows the final tally to:
CAPTION:
15 minutes to Midnight
Everybody WATCHES as WIEN takes the CROWN from its case, OFFERS it to LEPOLD, still with his fiery Aura ON.
As shown on different SCREENS at:
# SMALL CONTROL ROOM. Dimly lit. Stone, concrete.
A hand WORKS a small CONSOLE with several illuminated CONTROLS.
BACK TO:
LEPOLD's Aura DWINDLES to almost nothing!
He rises from the Throne, KNEELS before WIEN, who proceeds to CROWN him, then retreats a bit.
He stands, beaming, FACES the guests.
As ACOLYTE orients the Nucleobulb to illuminate his face:
Showtime!
Holding a tiny GADGET to his mouth:
(carrying)
Soldiers and crew of the Royal Flagship Wien, I'm your Spiritual Advisor, Theo Aporat! Hear me for your lives!
The hand FLIPS more CONTROLS.
BACK TO:
As LEPOLD RAISES his arms, his Aura ENGULFS him again, brighter than ever, including/HIGHLIGHTING his crown!
WIEN kneels. Everybody else follows suit.
LEPOLD sits on his Throne.
WIEN rises. APPLAUDS him.
Everybody else follows suit.
As shown on a (big) SCREEN at:
# BATTLECRUISER BRIDGE. NIGHT LIGHTS. LEFKIN (w/ Aporat's WAND, sipping liquor), COMMANDER (cleaning his Blaster) + others WATCH. The Techs WORK.
Suddenly, on (about half) the SCREENS:
(grim)
Your ship is engaged in such a sinful act as will doom the souls of everyone aboard to the eternal frigidity of space! By sending the Fleet against the Foundation, intending to bombard that source of all Blessings into submission, your commanders have affronted the Galactic Spirit and his Prophet, Hari Seldon, beyond redemption!
LEFKIN is upset. COMMANDER orders SOLDIERS to move!
The hand WORKS another CONSOLE.
BACK TO:
Lepold's THRONE FLOATS up & forward, clearing the STEPS.
The guests clear a wide PASSAGE to a magnificent ornate BALCONY (open).
Flying at around waist level, LEPOLD TAPS his fingers on the armrest.
SCREENS big, small, handheld... SHOW:
(angry)
The impious can no longer command! You obey them at your peril! As long as this ship serves such a sacrilegious and evil end, the blessing of the Spirit is removed from it as well! I declare it cursed and dead!
Some SNEER, switch their screens OFF.
Others aren't so confident, EYE their mates...
The hand TWEAKS some CONTROLS.
BACK TO:
The Throne FLIES faster, higher (at head level)!
(bird's eye view of) Lepold's Throne FLIES thru the high balcony, FLOATS above the courtyard several stories below, in full view of:
Bells TOLL.
The crowd CHEERS, screams, sings, CELEBRATES...
(solemn)
Let the Nucleic Engines at the heart of this ship cease to beat. Let the Grapples of its arms be paralyzed and the fists of its Cannon Blasters lose their strength! Let the eyes of its Screens become blind and the voice of its Communications become dumb!
Helping ACOLYTE STEADY his NERVOUS Nucleobulb-holding hands:
Let the balance of its Gravitics unravel, the breath of its Ventilators suffocate and the soul of its Lights fade into nothing! The Galactic Spirit commands it!
As shown by the big (holo)SCREEN at:
# WINDOWLESS BOARD ROOM. Everybody silent/glum.
LEE takes from the old iridescent-plastic "cigar" BOX a small (cordless) CONTROL BOX, labeled
Danger!
Do NOT
Open!
unlocks/opens it, presents it to HARDIN, who PUSHES its lone RED BUTTON.
The small wheel STOPS. Around it, most others SLOW DOWN, JAM.
SILENCE.
Guarded by 2 soldiers, a heavy BULKDOOR with signs:
Starboard
GENERATOR ROOM
DANGER!
Nucleic Energy
Qualified Personnel
ONLY!
The hum STOPS!
A nearby SCREEN, still showing APORAT, switches OFF.
The Soldiers exchange worried GLANCES.
Ahead, the corridor's LIGHTS go hurriedly OUT.
SOLDIERS/CREW notice the Lights FLICKER!
SWITCH TO BLACK!
LIGHTS go OUT. SCREENS switch OFF.
(weak) Emergency LIGHTS come ONLINE.
(most) CONSOLES shut DOWN.
LEFKIN + COMMANDER rush OUT, watched by WORRIED Techs & Soldiers.
A few CONSOLES:
Water
Air
Everything STOPS!
After a moment's SILENCE, the DOOR is forcefully OPEN!
On it, a SIGN:
LIFE SUPPORT
Group 6
ENTERING, small FLARE in hand:
ALARMED SOLDIER (to Communicator)
Commander!? Something's not...! Commander!?
Clicking/shaking the IMPOTENT gadget:
Hear me!? ANYONE!?!?
Small items around him start to FLOAT. He too.
SWITCH TO:
On the Heavy BATTLECRUISER all LIGHTS go OUT, its Shield VANISHES, engines stop GLOWING!
In 1s, 2s & 3s, most of the FLEET's WARSHIPS become DARK!
They DRIFT, inert, except a HANDFUL of the smallest.
The Anacreonian 'masters' (guns in hands) as surprised/helpless as the rest.
The big central (3D) HOLO-map BLINKS OFF!
FADE TO BLACK.
All enemy Fleets are stopped cold. Warnings have been broadcast: Anything not under our strict control inside or entering the Interdiction Zone in the Kingdom of Anacreon will lose power within minutes, unless we countermand it.
Now what?
Eyes on SELDON's portrait.
His Throne hovering above the Courtyard & the closed Gates:
(amplified)
The Foundation has been exposed as the enemy of our people! They worked against Anacreon's rightful return to greatness!
The silent (incredulous) crowd LISTENS as the screens REPEAT him.
A few MILITARY VEHICLES in JAMMED traffic, escorted by foot SOLDIERS, not far from a (small) brightly lit PYRAMID (w/ WATERFALL).
The CROWD around watches/listens to SCREENS. Some THROW bits of food at the TRUCKS.
The Pyramid's light DIMS!
As people/soldiers REACT (incredulity, rage, fear...) the Pyramid goes DARK!
The waterfall DRIES. Street LIGHTS go OUT (in sequence). Then, building LIGHTS. Then the Screens...
Only a few BONFIRES + TORCHES here & there allow (nervous) people to still see:
An (open) TRUCK with 10+ PRIESTS PRISONER (hands & feet TIED), including:
Several self-powered NUCLEOBULBS on his robe SWITCH ON!
The crowd NOTICES.
Bird's eye view of:
* SPRAWLING GARDEN-LINED CITY.
1 by 1, the Pyramids DIM & shut down!
BACK TO:
Their treacherous Priesthood no longer controls the machinery of our Factories, our Hospitals, our well-being! Under guise of help, they only sought power!
Zone by zone, Every STREET & BUILDING goes DARK!
Lights & Screens go DARK!
The crowd GASPS!
BACK TO:
I'll start my glorious Reign...!
The Throne WOBBLES!
Screens & Consoles go DARK!
The hand frantically WORKS the inert CONTROLS.
Lights go OUT!
BACK TO:
LEPOLD's aura POPS off!
He SCREAMS as his Throne PLUMMETS (none-too-gently) to the ground!
Every light on the building (but the few TORCHES) goes OUT!
The crowd PANICS (screams, runs, fights?...)!
Near the Balcony:
The King has fallen!
It's a miracle!
SOLDIERS with more (colorful) TORCHES enter.
As she RUSHES out (followed by SOLDIERS) the guests exchange WORRIED glances/whispers.
(shaken) LEPOLD slowly climbs down his (slightly WRECKED) Throne, checks his absent Aura.
Approaching fast:
Your Highness!? Are you ok? What happened?
LEPOLD breathes deep, SIGNALS to go away, starts for the short (walled) ROAD.
Well above his head:
FADE TO:
As seen from:
Floating, holding fast to the HANDRAIL, peering outside:
(glum)
Fat consolation: everything bigger than Couriers and Patrolships got the Foundation's engine or powerplant 'upgrades' years ago. Same for civilian craft.
Floating & peering too:
The closest Port is lightyears away, and there's more than 2000 people in this ship alone, counting crew and troops, with no hope of rescue. In a day or 2 we'll all be dead like vermin in a freezing can!
Kick-floating away:
Both seated/holding onto the cot:
Don't ask me how it works, my boy, but it does, always! That's the power of Science!
The door OPENS!
Outside (also DARK):
Float-STANDING:
Trading glances:
EXITING the cell, ACOLYTE (w Bulb) in tow:
TURNCOAT soldiers distribute WEAPONS.
From a Priest-driven big heavy (open) CAR (w/ Foundation LOGO) exiting a RAMP:
(yelling)
To the Royal Palace, before the Regent's perfidy dooms us all! The other Temples are secondary! Everybody to the Palace!
Priests + (armed) people board the car. The MULTITUDE around ROARS!
Behind 'em, the darkened Pyramid starts slowly LIGHTING UP again!
APORAT, his LIGHT, ACOLYTE, + 10+ FOLLOWERS turn a CORNER.
Accompanied by a handful soldiers:
Hands on WEAPONS:
Not so sure:
Raising placating hands:
My friends! We're all on the same boat!
Everybody floating around him:
The prospect of imminent and eternal demise throws a harsh light on our life choices, don't you believe?
At a WINDOW, LEN (somber) LOOKS outside/down, caressing her PENDANT.
Nucleobulb LIGHT illuminates her.
Storming in, w/ some flare-carrying GUARDS, Blaster (small? lady-like) in hand:
No thanks to your wine. Strong stuff! Luckily Traders in foreign unsafe quarters use mouth filters that allow only small, well-known molecules thru.
LEPOLD enters, with his SHOTGUN + a BANDOLIER of handspan-long fat CARTRIDGES, more Guards in tow.
(upset)
What have you done!?
Re: the SLEEPING Guard (on a chair by the door, a bottle at his feet):
Me!? I warned you! Well-engineered machines have built-in safeguards against accident or misuse. Didn't your informants tell you?
What's she talking about? Where's my Aura??
As I was trying to explain earlier, the Priesthood is a Shield against ignorance and violence, not a Weapon. Faith... works better on the defensive.
You might have disabled our Capital, but we still have the best Army and the strongest Fleet by far in the Province!
We'll use the old Radio system, or horse-riding messengers if needs be, to reach the Garrisons just out of the City. We aren't defenseless. Whatever you planned, it'll be short-lived!
(worried)
But the Fleet...
Yes... All those deadly machines, stranded so many lightyears far from home! Have they answered your calls yet?
Our best and brightest are with the Fleet and Lefkin!
As most people in the Periphery learnt the hard way not so long ago, our high Civilization rests upon its machinery: Industry, shipping, Hospitals, cooking... heating in the Wintry parts of each planet... No Energy, no machines, no Civilization. Society crumbles, Chaos ensues, survivors react.
A GHOSTLY yellow
97 FLOATS 'round.
Brandishing her gun:
Damn your machines! We've done without before! Our people won't tolerate this kind of extortion! They'll crush you!
The Screen TURNS ON!
Screens TURN ON!
Murmurs GROW.
About half the PYRAMIDS are again (dimly) LIT.
An ANGRY riotous torch-bearing MOB, spilling from adjacent streets, starts to occupy it, shouting, brandishing (improvised) WEAPONS, chanting...
Among 'em, several Priest-filled heavy CARS.
Atop his car, fully costumed:
(amplified)
There's no power nor authority without the Spirit's Blessings! Oust the blaspheming sinners!
He points a MENACING FINGER forward. The mob growls!
STEPPING forward, Blaster POINTED:
Stepping BACK:
I dared come negotiate with you when nobody believed it possible. I felt I owed it to Peace and people, to try and reach an agreement both of us, and everyone, could live with. But you had your own agenda, your own Empire to build...
ENTERING:
(alarmed)
Your Highness! My King! There's rioters all over the city, fighting our Forces for control of the Temples!
Huh... Apparently... a few. We can see their lights from here. Many of our detachments aren't answering signals either.
(cool)
Lepold, dear, please order the old Air-Defense Turrets to target those buildings, full of dangerous machinery in hostile hands.
Donning the BANDOLIER:
(grim)
You heard my Prime Advisor. Do it!
EXITING fast:
Yes, Sir!
My Father had them installed on the Castle, decades ago. They were never upgraded, so they're Mechanical, and Chemical, not Nucleic. Let's see how your precious Spirit handles that!
Helped by a single FLASHLIGHT, LEFKIN, COMMANDER, + 8-10 SOLDIERS (some w/ drawn GUNS/Blasters) use the guardrails to navigate their way thru BOXES & other OBSTACLES.
At the end of the CORRIDOR BELOW a light appears: APORAT, surrounded by 20+ followers.
(loud, angry)
What's this!? Brave soldiers of Anacreon following a will-o'-the-wisp, a moonbeam!? You should be ashamed!!
As several GUNS + Blasters POINT at 'em:
As they RETREAT, bullets + lightning-like SHOTS are FIRED! (1 leaves a small SCORCH/SLAG MARK)
No! We need 'em!
POINTING:
Up there!
From the nearest tower, a SIZABLE rocket-missile LAUNCHES, flies (whistling) OVERHEAD!
The missile CRUMBLEXPLODES next to (the top of) its STONE RAMPARTS!
The dissipating explosion CLOUD reveals:
The pyramid is INTACT, enveloped by a FAINT (just-activated) bluish energy SHIELD!
People around CHEER!
More MISSILES fly overhead!
Bird's eye view of:
All are revealed to be PROTECTED by energy SHIELDS!
As shown by the Screen at:
# HIGH PALACE ROOM.
The Spirit blessed our Temples with automatic emergency Shielding, similar to the shipborne kind, to prevent accidents possibly involving Radiation. No harm done, there's still time to...
From the door:
We're under siege! A mob at the Gates, with weapons, Priests, a battering ram, and all!
An OLD (battered, reinforced) sizable (oil-fueled) TRUCK bumps against the Courtyard DOORS (which creak/budge a bit) then, roaring, RETREATS for another try, (twin tall) exhausts BELCHING black SMOKE.
People CHEER.
BACK TO:
Arriving:
Your Majesty, the mob Leader has been identified as High Priest Verisof! They have demands!
Snap-LOADING a cartridge onto his SHOTGUN:
Execute the Traitor!
From this distance? We only have personal short-range weapons! The Assault Troops took everything else!
(beat)
Except...
Target the Rebel leaders. If the mob doesn't disperse immediately, keep firing!
The Screens SHOW the Messenger GO.
Hurrying thru the ROWS of (plastic) TABLES, followed by LEFKIN + 20+ SOLDIERS:
Luminous APORAT + 60+ followers APPEAR in front, at the opposite doors!
Looking 'round:
As LEFKIN (flanked by a few Soldiers) RETREATS:
There's the blasphemous despot!
He RETREATS too.
A haphazard FIGHT (Blasters, bullets, swords...) ensues!
The truck BUMPS the Courtyard doors, HARD (crashing SOUND).
Another missile LAUNCHES, turns GROUNDWARDS!
People REACT, scream in PANIC, try to FLEE!
A few SHOOT their Blaster Rifles at the incoming! (w/out much success)
Frantically WORKING his DASHBOARD:
(commanding)
Down, everybody! Hug the ground! Pray for our lives!
As they OBEY, his car LURCHES waist-high into the air!
A couple Blaster SHOTS manage to leave SMALL scorch/slag MARKS on the missile's hardened BODY!
(Missile P.O.V) Opening his arms as his car (hesitantly) CLIMBS to about treetop level:
(shouts)
In the power of the Galactic Spirit I trust my faith, and my life!
(from several angles) The missile EXPLODES on top of the car, ENGULFING it in a big FIREBALL that almost reaches the ground! People fall/SCREAM in fear/despair!
Behind a closed HEAVY DOOR, LEFKIN, COMMANDER, + 3-4 SOLDIERS nervously LISTEN to muffled sounds of FIGHT (+YELLS, thumps...)
SILENCE ensues!
After a few moments, something heavy KNOCKS the door, HARD. It doesn't budge.
Again, HARDER!
(loud)
Forget it! You'll never force a Fire Door!
From the other side:
Contemplating his Blaster GUN:
Eyeing the LAMP & his companions, LEFKIN, resigned, signals.
(loud)
All right! 1 of you can enter, unarmed!
He UNLOCKS the door. Slowly, he OPENS it.
The self-illuminated APORAT stands in the middle, flanked by 10s of his (armed, some bloodied) followers.
His Blaster pointed at 'em:
His BLAST reaches the surprised APORAT's face, sending (many) STREAMS of tiny SPARKS 'round his SHINING body, much to everybody's HORROR!
As the smoke/vapor clears, his personal (pale-white) SHIELD barely showing, apparently UNHARMED:
He energetically GESTURES his followers to REFRAIN from returning fire as LEFKIN (flabbergasted) lets his gun DROP.
COMMANDER & the (afraid) Soldiers SURRENDER too.
Awed people WATCH the smoke CLEAR/dissipate around a SPHERICAL blue-white (glitchy) energy SHIELD around Verisof's mostly INTACT hovering car. CHEERING ensues!
Slightly SHAKEN yet exultant:
Wow, yeah! The Spirit protects me! I love it!
His car's DASHBOARD is full of ORANGE & RED alarms, the Energy GAUGES twitching halfway down. Tiny WISPS of vapor/smoke exit the (barely wobbling) car's vents/seams/CRACKS.
20+ Blaster Riflemen TARGET the castle's nearest Missile Turrets. (w/out much success)
As 2-3 other hovercars rise from the ground, another 2 missiles APPROACH fast!
Heavy Blaster FIRE coming from above BLOWS 1!
The SHADOW of a fast-moving TRADESHIP (sizable, w/out customary lights) appears. Its SHIELD easily BLOCKEXPLODES the remaining missile(s)!
The mob CELEBRATES!
Heavy BLASTS from the sky SLAG the Missile Turrets!
As seen on the Screen at:
# HIGH PALACE ROOM. PRE-DAWN.
The compact lightweight Weaponry the Foundation developed to modernize the Fleets of the 4 Kingdoms also works nicely for civilian ships with much smaller Powerplants. We also found ways to reduce the size and power requirements of useful Shields. Nothing revolutionary, but our prototype Hovercars that don't need a special road might 1 day be a commercial success.
(upset)
The Peace Treaties forbid you from keeping new Technologies to yourselves!
I'm sure there's nothing against experimenting with simple variants of well-known stuff, using proper failsafes. Still, once the current situation is resolved, we're ready to share, under our own terms.
Terms!? What terms!? Think you've defeated us?? The bulk of our Army is already entering the City, with their heavy armament! Your Coup is over!
2 soldiers carry the (limp, barely conscious) COMMANDER away.
20+ SOLDIERS in a wide loose CIRCLE around:
LEFKIN, torn uniform, on a chair, hands & feet TIED to its table with a sturdy CHAIN, face/hair dripping WET, a swollen LIP yet otherwise apparently unharmed, grimaces, blinks to WAKE UP. A half-empty BUCKET of water by his feet.
In front, holding a stubby ROD with a line of green-yellow-red DOTS:
He caresses the dots, DIALS 'em down to only green+yellow.
LEFKIN GLARES at him.
Worry not: the damage won't be permanent! As I was telling you, the Galactic Spirit has granted the faithful onboard this ship the mercy of reviving 1 of the Nucleic Generators at reduced power. No-one will die for lack of air, water, or warmth.
He rests the ROD on the table, CLOSE to the chain.
Gravitics are back. Weapons work too, in case some other unfortunate ship in our Fleet failed to obey the Spirit's commands. The Hyper-engines are still out: Nobody's going anywhere until the Spirit says so.
LEFKIN YANKS the chain, to no avail.
(stern)
It would be unwise of you to keep opposing the Spirit's will. Time's running out to save the Fleet and all who are trapped with it.
The rod EMITS a few (malevolent) SPARKS.
(wary defiant)
What do you want, you shameless Clown!?
The Holy Spirit abhors bloodshed. Regrettably, dozens have died to keep you and other Officers from your Reckoning. That's not the only sin you'll need to pay for. Of course, the biggest sinners will have the most to atone, both here and back home.
(angry)
You cannot judge me, double-faced bastar...!!
APORAT (lightly) TOUCHES his CRACKLING rod to the chain, ELECTRIFYING it whole, sending PAINFUL PULSES thru the SCREAMING LEFKIN's body.
BACK TO:
Gesturing with her Blaster:
(frosty)
Wait till the other Kingdoms learn how the Foundation betrayed us here. Be reasonable, accept Anacreon's protection now, and we'll spare you and as many of your more useful Priests as necessary.
Or you can vanish, and we'll reason with someone else who can keep the lights on and the machines running. Verisof, perhaps.
He AIMS his SHOTGUN at:
(poker-faced)
The time for guns and threats is over. While you were busy scheming and fighting for power, Science, Technology, and Society marched on, at a pace rarely seen since the early Golden Age of the Old Empire. Your kind of parasitic Aristocracy has become a dangerous relic. You must adapt or die!
She BLASTS LEN at close quarters! (w/ similar EFFECT Lefkin had on Aporat)
(awed)
What sorcery is this!?
DISCREETLY CHECKING her hands, arms...:
Luck, or the Spirit, blessed us with a real technological breakthrough, a game-changer! It took decades to bring 'em to fruition, but personal wearable Shields signal the fall of those who only know how to use a weapon.
Throwing her Blaster aside:
She POINTS at:
The SCREEN:
The Spirit watches you, Prince Lefkin: unburden your soul now!
DISHEVELED, still chained:
It... wasn't me! I did nothing! She did!
(upset)
That's Lefkin! Where's he? What are they doing to him?
Brandishing a Guard's Blaster at LEN:
Who did what?
LEFKIN (anguished, from screen)
My mother told me she had plans! But her brother thought different, and became an obstacle! She had him killed!
(aghast)
WHAAAT!?!?
Thank you, Prince Lefkin, for this clarity you've granted us all.
I'm sorry. I... My Uncle wasn't...
AIMING his SHOTGUN at WIEN:
(angry)
You did it!? My Father!? Your KING!?!?
GESTURING with her Blaster hand:
(desperate)
You're the King now! It was necessary! I did it for you! For our family!! For the peo...!!
NEEDLE-BURSTING her (angry-bee BUZZ) before she can quite aim at him:
(dead cold)
Sure you did, Queen of lies.
Her upper body TORN TO SHREDS, WIEN COLLAPSES to the floor!
As shown by the SCREENS at:
# THRONE/BALL ROOM. Everybody GASPS!
BACK TO:
The Shotgun FALLS from LEPOLD's limp hands (with a THUNK).
He REELS to the wall. Spent, he slides down, SITS on the floor with a MOAN of despair.
The truck CRASHES THRU the Courtyard doors!
Atop the WALLS, Soldiers start SHOOTING against the onrushing mob!
BACK TO:
(gentle)
I feel for your loss, your Majesty, but your people needs you. Their anger was at Wien. You'll win them over with fairness and growth, as your Father did. The Foundation will help you.
Huddled against the wall:
Offering her hand:
Yes, King Lepold, as soon as you order your Forces to stop attacking your Subjects. We'll clear the misunderstanding without further damage.
He WONDERS for a moment, then TAKES her helping hand.
Rising:
The small wheel TURNS in the opposite direction. The whole MECHANISM reacts.
TOCK.
WORKERS replace a big
ANACREON CIRCLE sign
by a big
HARDIN RING sign.
People WATCH/cheer. 1 of 'em has a JOURNAL titled:
ANACREON signs the Foundation's Covenant for
Interstellar Business and Conflict Arbitration!
subtitled:
SMYRNO and other neighbors expected to follow suit soon.
and:
All warships & ambassadors to be
directed and coordinated from Terminus.
A much smaller heading:
Impeachment vote suspended!
subtitled:
Actionist Party weakened!
The large GLASS BLOCK at the center stays DARK.
CAPTION:
80 F.E
FADE IN:
15 minutes to Noon
Everybody CHEERS:
Salvor HARDIN, flanked/helped by VERISOF and LEN. He raises one's HAND in triumph, then the other's. Finally, he reveals his old CIGAR holder, LIGHTS & SHOWS it.
More CHEERS.
With his group of ACTIONISTS:
Seldon's Plan, if it exists, will require the complete annexation of the 4 Kingdoms, ending their Feudal systems with a land redistribution, and immediately expan...
Lights DIM!
The large glass block ACTIVATES!
It SHOWS:
I'm Hari Seldon! Hello! Seems only yesterday I addressed your forebears. Now, 3 decades later, odds are you've learnt to leverage the tools at your disposal into a much better position than before. In this case, your Scientific and Technological prowess against the prevailing ignorance and superstition around you.
General CHEERING.
Psycho-History revealed that Science and Technology, Economy, even History, had come to be seen as the servants of the powerful, the oppressors, higher Learning the walled garden of the rich & elites.
SERMAK looks daggers.
Mankind's best tools had failed the common people, the downtrodden, across the generations, so the oppressed turned their backs on it all, and the opportunistic predators didn't take long to feast on the wounds and erect their petty realms of terror!
In the general SILENCE:
80 years into my Future, the decay has spread all over the Galaxy with mathematical certainty, slowly creeping heartwards from the outer shell, the Periphery, finally giving rise to a vast tangled jungle of barbarism, even among those who still remember better times. Against all that, you and your power stand, at once coveted and hated.
HARDIN PUFFS his cigar.
The Foundation faced a psychological problem, of image, of Marketing, but you had everything to solve it, and so came to pervade your relatively primitive neighbors with your goods and services, which they naturally regarded as supernatural, otherworldly, and magic. The most likely consequence is a Religion of Science.
Some LAUGH. Others HUSH!
A useful tool, a persuasive civilizing force, but not all-powerful, nor very long-lasting. As word spreads, and your fame grows, opposition hardens, religious power dilutes, until new generations are forced to find other more refined tools to achieve the Second Galactic Empire. Our Equations show they will.
People wonder, EYE others. The holo briefly BLINKS!
You're not alone: The Galaxy awaits you, but the Old Empire, though weakened and decaying, is still incomparably mighty. Danger is everywhere. I'll be back in the Future. Until then, keep up the good work!
As seen on several SCREENS at:
# BATTLECRUISER BRIDGE. BRIGHT LIGHTS. Fully operational again.
A long LINE of crewpeople/soldiers before:
On a raised PLATFORM at the center of the passes, in full priestly REGALIA, APORAT, hands over their heads as they BOW, BLESSES 'em.
As they depart, ACOLYTE hands to each a small BOOKLET:
Book
of
SPIRIT
Nearby, sat on a new captain CHAIR, booklet in pocket, COMMANDER directs the ship.
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