# SHIP'S CREW LOUNGE. Old, patched up, spacious, full of MACHINERY. Low light. Consoles display trajectories, messages, data...
CAPTION: Transport Ship Hauling Business .
FADE IN: Chartered to undisclosed location
Around a tactical/dinner TABLE:
LIMMAR
(late 50s, expansive)
... so I was dragged into the Duke's Throne Room, with all that precious wood, and the Courtiers and their Ladies and their jewels, and that traitorous oafish Chamberlain accuses me of scamming him!
Sipping his Guild-Regulation Beverages Container:
BRO (early 20s, sotto)
Hard to believe he's one of the most veteran Traders.
BALE
(mid 20s)
Been 'round since the Guild formed, I heard.
LIMMAR
(eyes closed)
The Knights of the Guard all pointed their swords and spears at me, while the Duke explained at length how a man's word was his life's breath, and how I, a foreign low-born friendless Peddler, was gonna be beheaded for my foolish daring!
Sipping his FLASK:
BALE (sotto)
Now we know why he's called 'Legendary'!
BRO
(chuckles)
By Hardin, each time he tells it, the tale grows!
Sotto, to the others:
PIX
(tall woman, late 20s)
Shut up and learn from the man, you 2!
LIMMAR
(grins)
Then I activated my lucky charm, hidden inside my silver Medallion!
(sips his DRINK)
There we were, the Chamberlain and me, in glorious life-size holovid, arguing about how he was, or was not, going to pay me for my Nucleics, because the simpletons of the Court were too dumb to look for proof beyond his word!
PIX
We're lucky he agreed to lead our Expedition, so the Guild sponsored us rookies with ship and all. Who cares if he embellishes his accounts!?
Reconsidering:
BALE
Got a lot of Contracts under his belt...
BRO
Never ended below Quota. Could sell a shirt to Seldon's statue...
LIMMAR
The Duke tried to touch the images, but his hand went right thru my ghost's body... All their faces went pale with fright!
(laughs)
All except my accuser, red with rage as he drew his golden Poignard, and his cousin, the Leader of the Guard, blue with fury as he smacked his own kin down to the ground!
(THUMPS the table)
Lights go RED alert. Alarms BLARE!
Console: COLLISION
Warning!
All getting up:
LIMMAR
Ok, partners! This is it! All to the Guns!
(pats HOLSTERED Blaster)
PIX
Where's BookWorm?
(SHOUTS around)
Del!
BRO
(shrugs?)
Must be somewhere. Reading? Something.
Re: Consoles:
BALE
He's ok. Lifesigns all right. Relax, big sis.
They run OUT.
-+- HOT SALE -+-
* SPACE. YELLOW-ORANGE-BROWN PLANET with some DARKGREEN, surrounded by an extensive CLOUD of dust/gravel/debris. In the distance, a shiny YELLOW-WHITE sun.
A big boxy/modular CARGO SHIP carefully APPROACHES, modest point-defenses (kinetic, Blasters) ZAPPING dangerous big rocks, letting smaller ones (harmlessly) HIT its discreetly SHIELDED hull.
# SHIP's ample/utilitarian CORRIDORS. Poor light. Hull CLANGS from time to time.
Handing a PAD:
DEL
(early 20s)
Imperial Atlas says it was a pretty average world. There used to be dozens of Satellites and Stations: Weather, Comms, Processing... plus a bunch of automated Rock-busters.
BALE
Must have been back when Terminus was the youngest colony of the Empire. There's none left now, as the Survey hinted. Poor maintenance, accident, war?
Taking the PAD:
LIMMAR
Who knows, anything's possible in the decades since the Empire was last around. But we got what they need, and they got plenty minerals and other resources.
BRO
Less than expected, at least in the asteroids we've scanned. Maybe others got here first. Perhaps Pirates!
(PLAYS with his Blaster)
Re: her PAD:
PIX
No Ultrawave emitters nearby. EM freqs too scattered. Conditions on the surface have backslid significantly since the Terraform. The population could be in serious danger.
Walking forward:
LIMMAR
Good chance your speculative Deal works, then. Get unpacking, boys, while Pix and I go meet the natives.
BRO
Why her? I'm better with weapons!
BALE
I'm stronger, and better with machinery.
PIX
(smirk?)
I got better dialect skills, quite handy for my studies of de-evolved Cultures. Plus Medical training.
Reaching a SEALED AIRLOCK:
LIMMAR
Who's gonna be in charge while we're away?
PIX
Del. His guesses and calculations brought us here. He knows how everything works.
BALE
What? Sis...!
Sheepishly:
DEL
I read the Manuals...
Donning his silver Medallion:
LIMMAR
You 2 help him. Make us proud!
He CHECKS his Blaster, OPENS the airlock.
PIX (to Del)
Remember: use your Comms! If needs be, call!
* PLANET's ORBIT. Far less cluttered. The ship OPENS several small & large cargo BAYS.
A small (shielded) LIFEBOAT (not unlike a 2-seater HOVERCAR with a glass canopy) EXITS, DROPS planetwards.
* PLANET'S ATMOSPHERE. DAY. No clouds. Most of a rock/dust hemisphere in view. The LIFEBOAT descends FAST (w/out significant friction or heat). LIMMAR works Consoles.
Checking her PAD:
PIX
Magnetic field reads weakly. Air's thinner than should be. There's less Oxygen and Water vapor, lots more heat & winds.
Compensating for wind GUSTS:
LIMMAR
Hope it's not as bad as it sounds.
PIX
Infrared says there's too much Desert and Rocks down there, too little Green and Seas. No sign of any Cities yet.
(re-checking)
Got a moving heat signature, a few Ks ahead of us.
LIMMAR
(frowns)
Hmmmm... I see nothing. Could it be a rocket?
PIX
What kind of dumb fool would ride a Rocket to meet...?
Console: Proximity
ALERT!
Wildly BANKING/SWERVING:
LIMMAR
Boost shielding! BRACE FOR IMPACT!!
The (patched-up) MISSILE HOMES IN!
BIG EXPLOSION!! (shields FLARE)
FADE to WHITE.
BLACK FADES TO:
# DECAYED OLD ROOM/CORRIDOR. Brick/stone. No windows or furniture. Poor light.
PIX (lightly-BRUISED/bandaged) tends to LIMMAR (more bruised/BANDAGED, on a derelict MAT on the bare floor). Clothing singed/TORN, no Blasters nor jewels nor...
Trying to RISE (in vain):
LIMMAR
What.... uunnngghhh!!! ...happened?
Offering a small FLASK:
PIX
We're lucky to be alive! Drink... slowly!
As he GULPS water:
PIX
Shields deflected the worst of the radiation and heat. Gravitics cushioned our fall... barely.
LIMMAR
Where... ? When... ?
PIX
(tired)
Scavengers found us the next day, likely by the smoke... 2 days ago.
(gestures)
These tunnels are their Camp. Or one of their foraging sites, I'm not sure.
SEARCHING himself:
LIMMAR
(alarmed)
Where's my gear... Shield, Comms!?
PIX
(sad)
Scavenged. Same as mine and the remains of our Lifeboat. They use some kind of small pets as Metal Detectors, got everything!
Baring TEETH (1 of 'em GOLD, another SILVER):
LIMMAR
Not everything! But... the Ship... the others!?
PIX
(shrugs)
They must have received our crash Beacon... eventually. We're now too far from there, and you need to recover before moving.
LIMMAR
(frowns)
Are we... prisoners?
PIX
Not exactly. I earned some goodwill helping these... Peasants decipher our Medkit, tending to some of their ill...
(TENDS to him)
But when I tried to find an exit to this labyrinth, they brought me back, explaining only that travel is impossible under the day's murderous heat.
LIMMAR
Then, by night?
PIX
Not without dangers, either, including nasty predators, and the certainty of getting lost without guide or map, thus facing the sun without refuge and no easy way to get water either, in a region that hasn't seen rain in years...
LIMMAR
Galaxy! We cannot stay cooped down here indefinitely!
PIX
(half-smile)
We won't. In a few days, 'Authorities' will come take us to their Leaders.
LIMMAR
Good! That'll be our chance!
PIX
Maybe. Maybe not. These people know nothing of their past. They're incredibly superstitious, say we're special because we fell from the sky in a ball of fire.
LIMMAR
(half-smile)
Ain't that the truth. Helped by someone's ordnance.
PIX
It could have been any of several sides in a war that's gone on for 3 or 4 generations at least.
LIMMAR
(intense)
What kind of war? With what weapons? What for? Does it encompass the whole planet or just a part?
PIX
No clue. Perhaps the Leaders know. Trouble is, they also claim to be special because their Forebears came from the sky atop pieces of stars.
LIMMAR
I see... We'll have to offer 'em a Deal they can't refuse!
# * UNDERGROUND STONE-Y RAMP'S MOUTH. NIGHT. Minimal lighting. LIMMAR & PIX, hands CHAINED, with a few 'helpers', EXIT it, WALK towards a ROW of SOLDIERS armed with SWORDS, SPEARS, flechette GUNS, a scavenged Blaster...
CAPTION: A WEEK LATER
Landscape pretty DESERTED, with a few stunted plants, no signs of animal life, LOW MOUNTAINS on the horizon. A gazillion fixed STARS ornament the CLOUDLESS sky.
An OLD WOMAN approaches, puts a bit of FOOD in PIX's hands.
As LIMMAR looks UP:
A shiny little 'star' MOVES slightly SIDEWAYS.
* SHEER ROCK WALL. DAWN (not a cloud in the sky). In the shadows at its feet, on a low rock platform, amid ROWS of carved STONE COLUMNS, each chained to 1:
LIMMAR
A week of night-trekking that scorched wasteland, for this!
PIX
I can't believe they care nothing for their planet's habitability, only want weapons!
LIMMAR
That's Warlords for you, dear. Always ready to sacrifice their subjects, like most tyrants.
PIX
Small minds, drowning in their own mud.
(looks UP)
Unlike that magnificent... thing.
Re: towering complex STONE/METALLOY/GLASS 'sculpture' halfway up the wall, SHINING with sunlight:
LIMMAR
A remnant of more enlightened times, no doubt. From a Solar Observatory, most likely. Explains that.
Re: on the far side, a miniature solar disc PROJECTION slowly/imperceptibly CRAWLS the STONE FLOOR.
PIX
Fascinating! Those are lenses!?
LIMMAR
Precisely aligned, I'd bet. You can make out the Corona and even some Spots.
(double-checks)
Hmmm... it gets bigger, and closer, as the sun rises.
PIX
C'mon! Tell me it isn't coming for us!
FAINT yet widening BURN TRAILS on the ground HINT just that.
The projection BRIGHTENS, develops TINY vapor WISPS.
LIMMAR
They're obsessed with the sun. It's only natural they use it for their Ceremonies.
TUGGING against her BONDS:
PIX
(upset)
This is their 'Trial of the Gods'!? We should have chosen the gladiatorial fights! We're gonna die!!
LIMMAR
Afraid so. I was hoping things wouldn't come to that.
(shouts to the sky)
DIVINE SPIRIT, CREATOR AND RULER OF ALL! HEAR US IN OUR HOUR OF NEED!
PIX
(confused)
Wh...?
As dawn TURNS into morning, the projection grows, BURNS almost too hot to watch.
LIMMAR
(carrying)
THESE UNGRATEFULS MISUSE THY BLESSING OF LIGHT, HEAT, AND LIFE!
From some nearby RUINS, a Constable in full (rag-tag) Armor APPROACHES, walking fast, shadowed by a parasol-holding Attendant.
LIMMAR
THEY'RE DEVILS WHO WISH DEATH UPON THY CHILDREN, WHOM THOU ALWAYS PROTECT!
Re: the Constable:
PIX
Limmar!
LIMMAR (sotto)
Hush! Act scared!
PIX
(wide-eyed)
I am scared!
LIMMAR
AS THEY THUS FORSAKE THY GALACTIC PARADISE, I BID THEE FORSAKE 'EM!!
As the Constable gets closer, RAISES his STAFF:
LIMMAR
STRIKE THEIR STAR, WHICH THOU GAVE 'EM!
Sunlight DIMS noticeably!
PIX can't help looking UPWARDS, as do 10s of PEOPLE around the ruins. There's no apparent cause!
LIMMAR
PLUNGE THEIR WORLD INTO ETERNAL DARKNESS!
The Constable hesitates, POISED to strike, but the Attendant REFRAINS him!
The weakened yet still BURNING projection almost ON THEM:
PIX
Merciful Spirit! We're doomed!
Sunlight DIMS even more!
LIMMAR
TRUST THEIR UNREPENTANT SOULS INTO THE UNENDING COLD OF SPACE!
CLOUDS gather fast, BLOCKING most of the light while the projection harmlessly ILLUMINATES him!
More Armored WARRIORS emerge, APPROACH fast.
LIMMAR
TEAR THEIR SKY DOWN ON THEIR SINFUL HEADS!
A small LIGHTNING BOLT strikes in the distance. Then a few more, stronger, CLOSER!
The gathering people & Warriors MARVEL at the darkening clouds & EVENTS.
LIMMAR
SMITHE 'EM WHO WON'T BOW BEFORE THY SUPREME POWER!
As lightning RACES ever closer, THUNDERCLAPS & wind GUSTS multiply!
PIX (sotto)
Wow!
Fearful people start to KNEEL (incl. some Warriors). Women (high-ranking or not) PROTECT their children.
LIMMAR
TURN THE AIR THESE UNBELIEVERS BREATHE INTO ICE!
As sizable HAIL rains down on 'em, the undecided Warriors start to KNEEL too, EXCEPT:
NOBLEMAN (to Limmar)
What kind of witchcraft is this? Stop now or ...!!
He RAISES his SWORD, but his own people SWARM & RESTRAIN him!
SHIVERING in the wind:
WOMAN
Mercy! We didn't know...!
Others CHORUS her. They WAIL as lightning STRIKES nearby!
Gauging his captive audience:
LIMMAR
Will you respect the Holy Spirit? On your life, and the lives of yours?
COWERING & REELING from the hail:
WOMAN
Yes! Spare us! Please!!
The Chorus AGREES.
LIMMAR
GREAT SPIRIT, HAVE MERCY ON THOSE WHO RELEASE THY SERVANTS FROM THEIR CHAINS!
As they're FREED:
PIX
Yes!
SAVORING the moment, hands RAISED to the sky:
LIMMAR
(commanding)
TEMPER THY WRATH! POUR THY LOVE UPON THE FAITHFUL!
As Lightning, Thunder & Wind SUBSIDE, Hail turns to soft RAIN.
The cloud cover THINS a bit, allowing GLIMPSES of sunlight. People WEEP/LAUGH with relief.
PIX (sotto)
How?
LIMMAR
(winks)
Luck! And... Science!
* PLANET's ORBIT. ROWS of active Satellites. A small (shielded) SHUTTLE (not unlike a BOX with wings) DOCKS with the Trader ship. Other Tradeships in the distance.
# SHIP's MEDBAY. Modest. Well-lit. MEDICS tend to a spent-looking LIMMAR.
In a corner, EATING a ration BAR:
PIX
So that's why he mumbled so much when he thought nobody was listening! I feared isolation was driving him nuts!
(re: her BAR)
Mmhh!! I'll never complain about our food again!
Grinning:
BRO
I'll get a Comms-tooth like his at the earliest opportunity!
BALE
He Contacted when desperation was pushing us to do something stupid, like trying a rescue by force.
DEL
Or leaving... But he kept saying this mishap could become an opportunity.
BRO
Luckily we could consult his copy of Aporat's Memorandum on Effective Curses!
BALE
Hardest thing was keeping hail and lightning from killing anyone.
DEL
Disrupting their execution machine was an added bonus. Your reaction was priceless!
The medics LEAVE.
PIX
I see... But we didn't bring that many Weather Sats. And the Sun Shade!?
Re: his PAD:
BRO
Had to call in reinforcements... for a percent of future gains.
PIX
(frowns)
He risked our lives for money... I should have expected it.
DEL
(firm)
No. Not money. He's old-school: came with us to help the Primitives. Now, with most of their warring Aristocracy shocked into acquiescence or awed into cooperation, we (the Foundation) will be their most trusted Partners and Advisors.
BRO
Their Ancestors weren't so primitive: there's plenty of broken but salvageable machinery in this System.
BALE
Repeat the performance with the other Tribes, and we'll become the shadow Administrators of this sorry ball of dust, the re-Terraforming Contract just the first of many profitable Deals.
APPROACHING, adjusting his NEW silver Medallion:
LIMMAR
Traders and Priests exist to spread the Foundation's Science and influence. Economic rewards are only a happy secondary result.
BRO
Nothing wrong with getting rich while doing our Duty. Or at least pay Debts!
PIX
I'm not sure I want to become a Trader anymore, Master Ponyets, if this is what it takes...
LIMMAR
Sorry, but I've never let 'morals' keep me from doing what's right. Not every day the chance comes to save millions risking only 2 lives.
BALE
(winks)
Anyone would've done the same!
DEL
More than half the planet still needs 'saving'. That's 100s of scattered Tribes.
LIMMAR
Right. We'll try to use less dangerous displays, without losing too much 'appeal'.
(winks)
I'm getting old for these Capers.
PIX
Then what? Just call in the Priests?
LIMMAR
Once the planet's peacefied, yes. They'll help persuade those not swayed by our technologically miraculous wares.
BALE
The Guild will see to that. It's in our Contracts.
LIMMAR
They'll rebuild the Culture and ready the people to rejoin Civilized society.
PIX
Of course, but I meant... Before the end, my thoughts kept going to that Scavenger Tribe, to the good we did 'em during our short stay...
(beat)
We can do so much more now... I want to return and help 'em, if possible. They already trust me.
Hand ON her shoulder:
LIMMAR
(gentle)
The Priesthood might insist you take their Oath, to allow that.
PIX
(half-smile)
If that's what it takes...
* SPACE. A gazillion fixed STARS ornament it.
A leisurely 'TICK-TOCK' sounds (as a shiny star MOVES SIDEWAYS).
* # ROCK OUTCROPPING (with plenty snow pockets). DAY. CAPTAIN (well-built, late-30s) relaxes face-down on a thick FOAM MAT, with only a TOWEL around his waist, while TRAINEE (bikini-clad, late-20s) massages his SHOULDERS expertly. A barely-glimpsed FORCEFIELD 'bubble' around both.
CAPTION: A quiet corner in the Foundation's
busily expanding Trading Convention
CAPTAIN
(grimaces)
Ohh, unngghh!!! Right there! Oww!
PRESSING the point:
TRAINEE
Serves you right for playing with oversize cutlery.
CAPTAIN
Sword-play is frequent out here. Different talk, same Diplomacy. And it's safer than guns.
Stopping her work:
TRAINEE
Others avoid Dealing with barbarians.
Half-TURNING to better face her:
CAPTAIN
Others don't manage as many Trades and benefits as I.
TRAINEE
Not all in life is money.
CAPTAIN
Tell that to our quota-setting bureaucrats. And you're here, aren't you?
TRAINEE
To see exotics: planets, people, cities, palaces... but what do I get?
(re: featureless gray-WHITE sky around)
CAPTAIN
(grins)
Wait till you meet Arys' Materialists and their semi-annual ritual Orgies!
TRAINEE
You've been saying that for weeks. I don't believe it anymore!
TAKING her hand:
CAPTAIN
Soon as we're done here, next Jump is Arys the Golden, with some of my best clients, in time to make Quota. I swear.
TRAINEE
As long as it's not like the other dumps you've dragged me to... I'm getting thirsty.
Checking a big BOTTLE half-buried in a snow pocket, propped up by 2 well-worn HOLSTERED BLASTERS:
CAPTAIN
Planets come in all sizes and shapes. Champagne's about chill enough...
The music DIES.
The WEATHER PAD switches to: Incoming
message:
PRIORITY
ALERT!
Taking it:
CAPTAIN
Damn!
TRAINEE
What now?
Fastening his BLASTER around his waist/towel:
CAPTAIN
Rendez-vous with a Trader courier. They got a personal capsule for me, Guild business!
The forcefield ADJUSTS to his body.
Checking her own PAD:
TRAINEE
Tank is barely half-full. We need another hour!
FOLDING the foam mat:
CAPTAIN
Sorry, no time. Quality?
TRAINEE
99.94% pure H2O. No harmful elements whatsoever.
LEAVING:
CAPTAIN
Better than any planet. Disengage heaters and pumps: We're going!
She fastens her HOLSTER to her thigh, KEYS her PAD.
TRAINEE
Aye, aye, sir! Rest's for the dead!
The forcefield 'bubble' SPLITS, adjusting to her as she (TOWEL on shoulder) rescues the BOTTLE + 2 tall GLASSES from the snow.
CAPTAIN
That should be the Trading Guild's motto.
Both descend the OUTCROPPING. Snow everywhere.
The white-ish "sky" beyond turns out to be a sturdy PLASTIC fabric.
CAPTAIN UNZIPS a round man-sized PASSAGE.
STEPPING/CLIMBING into the plastic TUBE after him:
TRAINEE
Was good while it lasted!
OPENING an AIRLOCK:
CAPTAIN
Can you pack everything while I plot Course?
EMBRACING him in the CRAMPED airlock, their personal forcefields MINGLING with a few smallish SPARKS:
TRAINEE
(playful)
Ready when you are!
He SMILES, hits a big red BUTTON.
-+- TRADERS -+-
* SPACE. A modest-sized, refurbished, much-used TRADESHIP (bulbous-insect-like, with a silvery 'spaceship+sun' ENSIGN) tied by fat tubing to a BIG gray-white BAG, 20 times larger. ASTEROIDS huge & small nearby, GLITTERING in the light of a far-out yellow SUN.
The bag ZIPS OPEN, revealing a SNOW asteroid (w/plenty ROCK) inside. A puff of water-ice DROPLETS fly off.
The bag is carefully PACKED into a side CARGO BAY, showing the heavy-duty CABLE & GRAPPLE holding the rock fast. Here & there on the hull, smallish BLAST CANNONS swivel around. 1 of them ZAPS a floating ice boulder.
LIGHTS ripple. The ship UNCLAMPS, turns deftly around (shielding FORCEFIELD glimpsed as hi-speed dust HITS it), zooms AWAY.
Main engine TURNS ON. After a short RUN, it JUMPS/BLINKS into nothingness.
* DEEP SPACE. Nothing in view. The TRADESHIP floats near a smallish COURIERSHIP, newer, sleeker (dagger-like). Signaling LIGHTS blink on both.
CAPTAIN, in a SHIELDED light SPACESUIT, Blaster holster on his waist, floats thru the AIRLOCK, tethered to a thin cable. Opposite, the COURIER (early-20s) does the same.
They APPROACH, clasp hands, stabilize. A small (silvery) SPHERE changes owner, CAPTAIN pockets it.
Via HELMET CONTACT:
CAPTAIN
That's it. Thanks!
COURIER
Holy Spirit, sir! Why so much secrecy and hurry?
CAPTAIN
Guild rules. Ultrawave isn't secure enough. You been a Courier for long?
COURIER
2 years next month. Still paying my 1st License.
CAPTAIN
This is nothing. Keep your eyes open, you'll see many more things. Fascinating things.
(pats BLASTER)
Dangerous things. Even profitable things...
COURIER
Well... once the initial novelty and excitement of Jumping around wear off, all those glimpses of... eternity... weigh more. I may be onto something else.
CAPTAIN
(winks)
Oh ho! A new Trade route, already? That's how I started!
COURIER
But the License upgrade costs a bundle. I...
CAPTAIN
No risk, no gain! If your business is good, the Guild will help with credit, ship, lawyers, mentors, partners...
COURIER
Their fees are generous too!
CAPTAIN
A trifle, compared with the benefits, or the taxes.
(gestures)
And a crew beats flying solo, you'll one day find.
COURIER
But your ship here... isn't it too small?
CAPTAIN
Hah! Many Traders hire bulk haulers. This is just my personal ride, with only enough room for small things that never go out of fashion.
COURIER
I see. Toys? Jewelry? Weapons?
CAPTAIN
Those, and more. Don't underestimate the goodwill that something simple like clean drinking water can earn at a ravaged planet.
COURIER
Water!? Seriously?
CAPTAIN
Never hurts to help your customers at low cost. Better Deals will often follow.
COURIER
Well, I hope you're right, sir. Good luck!
CAPTAIN
Fortune favors the bold, and the folks back home depend on us. Now, goodspeed!
They PART, return to their ships.
Soon after, the COURIERSHIP JUMPS/BLINKS away.
# CLOCKWORK GEARBOX, UP CLOSE. Shiny metal. Apparently stationary.
A small GEAR turns a bit. THEN a bigger one.
A faint "TICK" sounds.
# TRADESHIP MAIN CARGO BAY. Jumble of items & (aged/reworked) systems. Spartan-functional like the rest of the ship.
CAPTAIN (minus the spacesuit's TOP half, his T-shirt reads: Money
is the
Plan!) ACTIVATES the SPHERE, which PROJECTS a scrolling (unreadable) HOLOTEXT above itself.
CAPTAIN
(reads)
Bloody space!!
From the upper DECK (in a washed-out T-shirt reading Cooler
than
magic plus knee-length shorts):
TRAINEE
Course plotted for Arys, boss. We must hurry if we don't want to miss the preliminaries!
The sphere DISABLES ITSELF with a FLASH + a puff of SMOKE. He throws it into a BIN, hard.
CAPTAIN
Sorry, I must go to Askone immediately.
TRAINEE
(upset)
What!? After all your promises!?
Climbing a short LADDER:
CAPTAIN
A fellow Trader needs my help. I... cannot refuse. We are close enough, and he hasn't got a lot of time left.
TRAINEE
Isn't that the place with the religious ban on Nucleic technology?
CAPTAIN
(grim)
And the death penalty for sacrilege.
TRAINEE
But then, soon as you land...
(beat)
No sane Trader would ever go there! You'll end just another name at the feet of Seldon's statue!
Face to face:
CAPTAIN
Only important people who did important things for the Foundation get their names in that place of honor. I'll leave you at the nearest Guild outpost, maybe Glyptal. Should I fail to come back, you'll be...
TRAINEE
(upset!)
Cast away like so much rotten cargo!?!?
HOLDING her shoulders:
CAPTAIN
...in charge of my affairs. With my contacts and my line of credit, you'll have no trouble...
TRAINEE
Damned if I won't follow you with a pack of Mercenaries. I'll...!
CAPTAIN
(gentle)
Go home. Level up your License. Be your own master. You've learned enough from me.
TRAINEE
(emotional)
Maybe... I'll go stand in your stead, come Dealmaking Day at Arys, while your corpse rots in a hole at Askone. That'd teach you!
CAPTAIN
You'll be a terrific Trader. I was... selfish to keep you around for so long. Please forgive me.
She HUGS him, tight.
PULL BACK. OUTSIDE.
* DEEP SPACE. The TRADESHIP waits a SIGNIFICANT time before IGNITING its engines, running, then JUMPING/BLINKING off.
* PLANETARY SYSTEM. In the distance: a white-yellow STAR, a green-orange GAS GIANT, a smaller white-blue PLANET. Other planetary DOTS closer to the star...
CAPTION: Outskirts of the ASKONE AUTHORITY
FADE IN: (formerly Imperial
District of Askone)
FADE IN: POPULATION: 290 MILLION
4 DAYS LATER
The TRADESHIP JUMPS in.
A small DEEP SPACE BUOY (simple yet new) activates!
# TRADESHIP COCKPIT. 2-seater. SNUG. CAPTAIN switches VIDSCREENS showing Askonian TV (grayscale, vintage-style?): a marching military PARADE, rivers, CASTLES, magnificent woods... peasants on foot & food CARTS sharing a meandering ROAD... old-style fishing SHIPS, an artisanal GLASS FOUNDRY, big STATUES, night city-LIGHTS...
Finally:
A NEWSCAST (with a background of KIDS at play) captioned: DIPLOMATIC CONFLICT DEEPENS.
Tribunal ready to sentence.
CAPTAIN (to mic)
Rooster? Pilgrim here. Looks bad. Waiting for...
Several INSTRUMENTS light up, a DATASCREEN shows scrolling ship SCHEMATICS, "Imperial Registry" IDs, stats...
CAPTAIN
... the Cavalry.
He quickly KEYS a message. An Askonian SHIP fills the forward VIEWPORTS.
DATASCREEN fills with NUMBERS, followed by: New flight path.
Acknowledge procedure.
CAPTAIN (sotto)
Their cards, their game.
He ACTIVATES the piloting CONSOLE.
* PLANETARY SYSTEM. 2 old (lightly-armed) PATROLSHIPS (fork-shaped), 1 sleek SPORTS YATCH + 1 rusty CARGO SHIP (cylindrical) surround the TRADESHIP, running with it.
Little by little, the TRADESHIP leaves 'em behind.
DREAM/FLASHBACK:
* # NO-WALLS WOOD-BUILT CLASSROOM-CABIN. RAINY DAY. Off hours. Primitive-ish. Spartan. Around, PEASANTS walk the muddy streets.
A big BLACKBOARD with chalk drawings of numbers, FRACTIONS, percentages, a CIRCLE, its radius, some angles, the speed of light... On its corner a phrase: 25 million
inhabited
worlds!
8-10 rows of empty chairs. A wooden DESK.
Before it, modestly clothed:
KID
(plaintive)
Why does the Spirit allow bad things to happen?
Seated, in a good reddish ROBE:
PRIEST
(old, formal)
The Galactic Spirit tells everyone what's good and what's bad. Some listen, but others, sadly, don't.
KID
But why are they allowed to not...?
PRIEST
(firm)
People are allowed to act of their own Free Will. So: what do you want to do?
KID
Make things better! And people! But... I don't think prayers and Ethics are enough.
PRIEST
Then what is?
KID
(shrugs)
Dunno. But Foundation Traders visit Planets, and Cities, and...
PRIEST
(smiles)
You wanna be a wandering, money-obsessed toy seller, then?
KID
(excited)
Not toys! You spoke of machines that show where an illness hides, or what's wrong with a crop, or...
Steepled hands:
PRIEST
Yes?
KID
Tell me how's that done!
PRIEST
Remember what I told you 'bout Energy, Atoms, Structures...?
SHAKING head:
KID
I'm only a farm boy. I know nothing of all that.
PRIEST
(intense)
Yet you learnt to read. And numbers. Knowledge could be yours, with effort and an open mind...
KID
(frowns)
You say the same when explaining the wonderful things the Spirit and the Holy Men do for all of us...
PRIEST
There's more than one way to serve the Spirit.
Fetching a FAT BOOK from a DRAWER:
PRIEST
You're bright. You question what others take for granted. You may have a choice not many get. Ever seen this one?
(OFFERS it)
Practical Science
Addressing human needs
and problems.
(not for sale)
Guild Ed.
TAKING it:
KID
(awed)
Is this a Holy Book?
PRIEST
That's for you to decide. Study it. Tomorrow, tell me what you think.
KID
Tomorrow!? Awwww!!
PRIEST
Before noon. Or I'll bid the Spirit turns you into an ugly frog.
On a VIEWSCREEN:
Himself talking, rewinding fast, REJUVENATING, with a footer: Captain's Log + a swiftly RECEDING DATE.
Soon, a very young/rookie CAPTAIN is replaced by a not-so-aged PRIEST.
CAPTAIN tweaks the LOG's speed, SEARCHING back & forth.
* CITY-DOTTED BLUE-GRAY PLANET. The bright white-yellow SUN is much closer. Several comms SATELLITES + PATROLSHIPS (new) in view.
CAPTION: ASKONE CENTRAL
FADE IN: (formerly Askone
District Capital)
8 HOURS LATER
The TRADESHIP approaches, alone.
The PATROLSHIPS point their WEAPONS, surround it.
* ASKONE LANDING PAD, mostly empty. MORNING. Landed TRADESHIP. The airlock opens with a PUFF of vapor.
Out walks CAPTAIN, in a short (orange + gray + red) TUNIC (not unlike a monk's upper ROBE), trousers + boots, no BLASTER nor SHIELD on his wide (black) BELT, only a (pearly, ornate) BOOK in his hands.
A group of (lightly armored) GUARDS (with flechette GUNS) + a CUSTOMS OFFICER (with ceremonial SWORD) await him.
GUARD
Your kind is not welcome here!
CAPTAIN
I come in rescue mission under the Convention. Please call the Grand Master.
OFFICER
What are we, dumb savages? Law rules here, we're civilized!
Unfazed, showing the: BOOK
of
Spirit
CAPTAIN
I truly hope so. A man's soul depends on me.
The GUARDS advance.
# ASKONIAN PRISON/DUNGEON. AFTERNOON. Stone, iron BARS, (scarce) electric lights. CAPTAIN + 2 JAILORS walk down a CORRIDOR.
Stopping before a BARRED door:
JAILOR
Gorov the impious, company for you!
# ASKONIAN CELL. Barely shadowy, damp or ugly. There's a BARRED window, a chair+table, a COT, an unshaven ragged GOROV. Its door OPENS.
Entering, RAISING his BOOK:
CAPTAIN
(solemn)
I'm Limmar Ponyets, your appointed Spiritual Counsel and only hope!
GOROV is dumbfounded.
Offering the BOOK at lower-than-waist height:
CAPTAIN
(stern)
Kneel before the Galactic Spirit that sends me in this wretched place to guide you to its bosom!
GOROV hesitates, eyes the JAILOR in the corridor.
CAPTAIN (sotto)
Kiss it, you fool!
GOROV obeys. JAILOR closes the door with a CLANG.
Taking Captain's hand with both his:
GOROV
(happy)
By Hardin, I cannot believe it's you! You took the Oath!?
CAPTAIN
(gentle)
Sorry for the act, Eskel, had to play it up a bit to get thru. You know how it is with people worried more about intangible souls and friends than...
GOROV (sotto)
Or is this a Distorter you carry? It has a buzz...
Re: the fat golden RING on his finger:
CAPTAIN
Latest model. Nobody can spy on us, even if they had mics within the room. Now sit and tell me what this blasted business is all about.
Complying:
GOROV
The Foundation cannot build the Second Empire alone. Askonians are little better than barbarians, but not unreasonable. Trade with 'em needs to advance, for their good and ours. Nucleics, not just farm machinery and a few satellites sold by common partners.
CAPTAIN
Their Patrolships could certainly use some proper Weapons, and I doubt any of 'em can Jump farther than the scrapyard. But you... it's true you became an Agent? Did you learn nothing in your time as my apprentice?
SHAKING head:
GOROV
I know it's been tried before, for decades, but the rich and powerful here won't budge. I thought I had found a better approach to skirt their extreme Ancestor Worship.
CAPTAIN
Children!? Toys and games!? Magic pills and light shows!? In a closed society that's barely retained enough understanding of basic Chemistry to accept electronic gadgets!?
GOROV
Everybody else is too superstitious. And it worked!
CAPTAIN
Until their parents found out, and the authorities. You're lucky their bureaucracy is so convoluted and slow.
GOROV
News vultures blew everything out of all proportion. Death by dismemberment is an excessive punishment!
CAPTAIN
As was only to be expected. Your daring shook Askone to the core. Even our other Trading partners are worried about this unholy mess.
GOROV
I did no wrong! Those kids are healthier than ever!
CAPTAIN
I know. It's why we still have a chance. But the reputational damage could very well extend beyond the loss of your invaluable life.
GOROV
Please don't tell me this could become a Seldon Crisis, with the Foundation's survival at stake. Every election year I've heard that, since I can remember!
CAPTAIN
Hope not, but we need to think our next move. Tell me all there's to know about everything and everyone in this place.
GOROV talks. The SKY, seen from the window, darkens as HOURS PASS.
* STONE SQUARE, surrounded by crenellated PARAPETS. MORNING. High MOUNTAIN with plenty big TREES nearby.
A middle-aged COURTIER (w/ STAFF), thin-faced, bearded, stands in a corner.
The TRADESHIP flies IN, (carefully) lands. MAIN CARGO door/ramp opens. CAPTAIN descends it.
ZOOM OUT.
The "square" is actually the ROOF of the tallest TOWER in a tall 'modern' CASTLE-outpost by the hills. Deep WOODS, birds, a small river or 2, clusters of modest HOUSES. Down-valley, a city GLIMPSED on a distant SEACOAST.
Wish you didn't come with that infernal vehicle: it could get us both arrested, or worse. Popular tolerance of foreigners runs thin, even of Tenders of the Soul.
APPROACHING:
CAPTAIN
Time is of the essence, Master Pherl! Unless my friend has been cleared already?
PHERL
Alas, no. It's been hard enough for me to get the Grand Master to delay the execution.
CAPTAIN
It should have been easier to just exile poor Gorov. I thought you wanted that too.
PHERL
Yes, better for the future, perhaps, but the other Councillors would have none of it. Askonians take very seriously anything imperiling their souls' health, or their children's...
CAPTAIN
I may have an idea about that, but first the gold. You wanted assurances on provenance and quantity?
PHERL
Absolutely. This kind of favor is very expensive!
LEADING along the CARGO ramp:
CAPTAIN
Good thing our supply's limitless, then.
Looking around before ENTERING:
PHERL
It better not be a trick!
# TRADESHIP MAIN CARGO BAY. CAPTAIN takes some GOLD ITEMS from a prototype-looking (inactive, microwave-ovenish) CONTRAPTION.
Offering 'em:
CAPTAIN
No trick. Iron comes in, purest gold comes out.
Hesitating:
PHERL
What kind of dark magic is that?
CAPTAIN
No magic. Science. A glimpse of all the Foundation can offer you.
PHERL can't help taking the gold, EXAMINES it with connoisseur's RELISH.
PHERL
Suppose I believed you... where's the rest?
Taking some IRON items from the nearby TABLE:
CAPTAIN
Right here, as you'll see.
He deftly puts the items into the machine's COMPARTMENT, closes its DOOR, ACTIVATES it. It HUMS (softly) as its LIGHTS ripple.
CAPTAIN
The Transmuter should be done in a few minutes, depending on iron quality...
PHERL
This is a most unholy machine! I...
CAPTAIN
(firm)
You're going to get all the gold you can wish. That was the Deal. How it comes to be is nobody's concern.
PHERL
No. This is not what I wanted! This monstrosity...
The machine PINGS. Humming STOPS. Lights turn off.
CAPTAIN
It's just finished this batch. Now...
Carefully/showily TAKING the GOLDEN items from the (barely SMOKING) compartment:
CAPTAIN
You'll keep the Transmuter. Make all the gold you need to buy the Mastership, despite your Family being the youngest of the traditional ruling class.
Putting the items on PHERL's hand:
CAPTAIN
Gorov comes with me, free as a bird. Easy!
Contemplating the RICHES:
PHERL (sotto)
Grand Master!
CAPTAIN
Askone's modernization and prosperity guaranteed. The Foundation as your ally. Everybody wins!
PHERL
But if anyone finds out...
Gesturing:
CAPTAIN
(smiles)
Here, in the safety of your own family's Castle?
PHERL
(frowns)
Yes, but... the Ancestors would know! And then...
(letting the gold FALL from his hands)
No deal! I'm tainted! My soul is forfeit! What have you done to me!?
The gold items CLATTER on the floor.
The ramp CLOSES, the ship LURCHES upwards!
Remote CONTROL in hand:
CAPTAIN
I tricked you. Sorry, this is too important.
RAISING his STAFF:
PHERL
(wide-eyed)
How dare you? By all that's holy and pure, release me!
CAPTAIN
Sure... Soon as we see the Demons!
PHERL whimpers, surprised/terrified. His staff FALLS from his limp hands.
* MOUNTAIN RIVER. DAY. The TRADESHIP flies retracing its course UPWARDS among the TREES and PRAIRIES. Up a narrow PASS, then another, as the terrain grows ROCKIER, the river grows slimmer, FOAMIER.
Finally:
* Dilapidated GHOST TOWN (post-Imperial, wood+stone+grass) in the middle of the FOREST, straddling the river. Early EVENING.
CAPTION: Lost city of
PHERLTOWN
FADE IN: (formerly no-man's land)
The TRADESHIP lands at the town's center SQUARE, its protective FORCEFIELD invisibly RIPPLING, SPARKLING.
The CARGO ramp opens.
ENGINEERING-DATAPAD-SCANNER in belt holster, BLASTER in hand, 'helping' a morose PHERL down:
CAPTAIN
So Askonian fairytales were true! This is off the charts!
PHERL
(shaky)
Devil's breath! We're sullied! Dead!
'Tapping' his personal FORCEFIELD with the gun (it becomes briefly visible as it REACTS), then Pherl's:
CAPTAIN
Have faith, my fearless friend! Science is on our side!
PHERL, strangely MOVED, falls on his knees, almost reverentially grabs DIRT with his hands (it SPARKLES against his Shield). Then, as if jolted, THROWS it away!
CAPTAIN
This is where the curse on Nucleic technology comes from, huh? Everything else is fine, but not the Empire's pride and might!
Rising:
PHERL
Our blessed Ancestors ousted the last Imperials at great cost. But they left us this... unspeakable... blight.
ENCOURAGING Pherl towards the RIVERBANK:
CAPTAIN
Took me a while to realize why your Law books were so... sparse about such a strict ban. History treatises weren't help, either.
He gives a small glass FLASK to Pherl, motions for it to be filled with clear river WATER.
PHERL
(aghast)
No!
He THROWS the flask to the ground (it SHATTERS), looks everywhere at once.
CAPTAIN
I sent them all to our Symbolic Analysts, to distill the verbiage into neat symbols and graphs for flawless comprehension, to no avail.
FILLING another flask with pure river water:
CAPTAIN
But they requested additional cultural sources: folk tales, legends, songs, bedtime stories... That was last night.
Blaster not quite aimed, he's about to DRINK the water.
PHERL surges, SLAPS the flask out of his hands! (it flies into the river)
PHERL
(fierce)
On your soul, don't!
CAPTAIN
(smiles)
It's been a long sleepless night. Kid tales are so gruesome, full of monsters and witches!
PHERL
(wary)
Heroes too.
Using yet another FLASK to fetch more river water:
CAPTAIN
Of course. Demon-slayers, such as your great-grandfather, the boy who saved the souls of an entire city. This one, right?
PHERL
He found a dragonhusk, built a boat of it, persuaded friends and family to flee downriver with him, away from the horrors.
CAPTAIN
While the faith-less who remained were devoured from the inside, or turned into Ghouls howling in the woods... 2 decades later, the town was deserted, forgotten.
PHERL
So the Legends say.
MOTIONING back to the ship:
CAPTAIN
Many legends. Many places. There's a pattern. A shadow of reality. A kernel of truth!
PHERL
(antsy)
Devil-breath cannot be seen or touched, but it kills! The dark magic of the wicked Imperials contaminates and condemns the soul!
GRABBING Pherl:
CAPTAIN
No! Ignorance kills! You've forgotten what made humankind giants capable of building a Galactic Empire!
A hand on Captain's BLASTER:
PHERL
Self-sacrifice now would be the merciful thing for both of us, Master Trader, before evil takes root in our souls and rots us whole. You've seen our Medical records: it's no fairytale!
DISENGAGING:
CAPTAIN
Your virtuous Ancestors weren't dumb. I give 'em that. Their superstitions kept people away from most danger areas, saved millions of lives. But children grow. The reign of fear must end.
SWEEPING the engineering PAD over the flask:
CAPTAIN
Let's see what this water holds!
The 'real' image GLOWS malignantly GREEN with 1000s of scintillating PARTICLES. To one side, (superimposed) STATS scroll by.
CAPTAIN
Huh. Nasty! Deep radiation everywhere! Must be in the air too.
(shows it to Pherl)
Watch your enemy! This is what gets inside people and makes 'em ill!
PHERL recoils, but cannot avert his eyes.
CAPTAIN opens a side access PANEL on the ship, empties the flask into an uncapped TUBE, drops it in a 'Recycling' CHUTE, places another UNDER a spigot, flicks a SWITCH. A RED light turns ON.
CAPTAIN
Now witness Science's power.
PHERL
(shaken)
That is your religion... I know about it.
The spigot FILLS the flask with water. The red light turns BLUE.
CAPTAIN
The Galactic Spirit? Good for Philosophers and the masses. My beliefs are: understanding my customers and offering mutually beneficial Deals.
LOOKING thru the PAD again, the image is fully NORMAL. No trace of glow.
CAPTAIN
(triumphant)
Hah! The Foundation remembers!
He offers the water to PHERL, who shakes his head.
CAPTAIN
We stand on the shoulders of giants!
(drinks)
PHERL
(amazed)
No trick? Your machine... cleansed it!?
Affectionately PATTING the purifier:
CAPTAIN
You bet! Finest Terminus engineering. No Trader leaves home without one! We sell 'em at very reasonable prices too.
(firm)
Nucleic-based, of course. As are our Shields and Blasters. Not that our many clients mind.
PHERL
(upset)
You fight evil with evil!
CAPTAIN
We fight common pollution with the wisdom our forebears accumulated over 1000s of years. Advanced Medicine, Jumpships, they are your inheritance too, if you trust us!
PHERL
(tired)
You trust your machines too much. Your technological wizardry is a delusion, foolishly imperiling your souls for worldly concerns....
CAPTAIN
I was born on a planet every bit as underdeveloped and superstitious as yours. Foundation technology changed all that, about 30 years ago. Place is barely recognizable now. People are... well...
OFFERING his HAND:
CAPTAIN
We can cleanse every river, valley and mountain on this planet. Afflicted people too. End the blight once and for all, in a couple decades.
PHERL stares at his own (dirty) hand, looks AROUND, slowly, before facing:
CAPTAIN
You'll be the hero of this and the future generations. End the needless suffering. End the shame. That's worth more than gold!
# CLOCKWORK GEARBOX, UP CLOSE.
A big GEAR turns a bit. THEN several smaller ones.
Re: 3D overview MAP of the MOUNTAINS (+ other areas of the planet), with (a MIST of) radiation LEVELS and (guessed) underground mineral VEINS.
CAPTAIN
Most oddities arise near mountain areas, which the natives normally avoid, despite being the richest in minerals and other resources. Concentrations of natural Nucleics are pretty low overall, but in some places and rivers there's just enough to cause dangerous radiation levels.
GOROV
That's a lot of cubic kilometers of rock to Detox.
CAPTAIN
Plus lots of tons of heavy metal ores to glean. Not good enough for the Empire, but plenty for us.
GOROV
And... you'll pay 'em with machines?
CAPTAIN
Eventually, yes. Great for Askone and the Foundation, extremely profitable for me.
VIEWSCREENS:
Askonian TV: A big city SQUARE, crowded. DIGNITARIES perform some elaborate CEREMONY.
GOROV
Too much for your current License. The Agency could sponsor your upgrades to Master, 1st Class. With our gratitude.
CAPTAIN
Cool! Thanks! But... that's only the start. I'll need a really hefty credit line, partners...
GOROV
You're gonna need an Orbital Refinery.
CAPTAIN
A big one, with a long conveyor belt!
GOROV
And a lot of people for Land Rehabilitation too. It's gonna be one hell of a long-term investment.
TV images: the GRAND MASTER in full regalia, reviews DOCUMENTS with Foundation REPRESENTATIVES.
CAPTAIN
We'll train Askonians as part of the Deal. There's plenty volunteers already.
GOROV
So my work here is done. My crowning achievement! I'm too famous to be an Agent anymore.
CAPTAIN
In time, Askone will become a full member of the Convention, and all will be better for it. You could stay, making damn sure everyone who comes understands the locals and respects their culture.
GOROV
I was looking forward to leaving the place forever. If your iron-to-gold gimmick had failed, or Pherl had lacked vision...
CAPTAIN
Transmuters are 1 of the oldest tricks in the Trader's book, and the best I could rig under the circumstances. Alas, they need too much Nucleic energy to work, or the Foundation could get everything from thin air, instead of working so hard for each Trade.
Re: TV images:
CAPTAIN
As for Pherl, turns out he values other things beyond gold. Ending their Dark Ages has made him pretty popular. See? That's the old bird himself signing your Pardon, right where your public trial and quartering would have taken place. He even wants to name a children's Hospital after you.
GOROV
(wonders)
Looks poised to become the next Grand Master indeed.
CAPTAIN
You should have seen him arguing our case before the Grand Council, and on TV afterwards: Mass psychology in action. Seldon would be so proud!
A VIEWSCREEN switches to: Incoming message.
PERSONAL
Urgent!
In finery, disheveled? with harmonious SOUNDS of several instruments as background:
TRAINEE (from screen)
So you are alive, after 2 weeks of bounced messages!?
CAPTAIN (to screen)
Oh, yeah, sorry. I was too busy here!
GOROV (to screen)
My fault. Hi.
TRAINEE
(weary)
Of course, life and death, as always, right? Luckily I made it to the Dealmaking Arena!
CAPTAIN
I had to borrow your Book. I'll explain later, promised. How did it go? You look tired!
TRAINEE
You bet! Everybody who matters attended. I was invited to 100s of... parties. I signed all the Contracts on your behalf.
CAPTAIN
Glad to hear that. All!? Even...?
TRAINEE
(beams)
Yes. 3 years exclusivity!
CAPTAIN
And...?
TRAINEE
Yup. Guess where I'm calling from.
(re: her POSH surroundings)
Peeking closer:
CAPTAIN
The Matriarch's Tower? Awesome!
TRAINEE
(purring?)
Nope. Just her personal Transport with her pet musicians. She wants me for her Diplomatic Corps, says they need negotiators with my skills.
GOROV
(alarmed)
You sent her to the Grinder!?
CAPTAIN
She volunteered. And resisted all temptations.
TRAINEE
Unlike most of the men.
CAPTAIN
Hhmm, did you register the Contracts with the Guild?
TRAINEE
(firm)
Not until we settle my commission.
CAPTAIN
(grins)
Good! How about 99%? As a Graduation present.
TRAINEE
(awed)
What...!?!? Really!?!? It's a lot of Credits! But, what about your Quota?
GOROV
That's already covered, for the next... oh, 60 years or so. Congratulations, by the way.
CAPTAIN
One last thing, dear. Now that you're wealthy and independent, I need to ask you...
