Major update. Hope you all enjoy
EDIT: Notepad sucks at formatting...
SCENE ONE HUNDRED SIX. INT. HARD LIGHT DOCKING BAY SIXTY-ONE. DAY.
The last transport has just left, leaving the cavernous hanger bay completey devoid of life, save for a few forum members meandering about, performing last minute system checks and the like. A large, apparantly damaged destroyer sits in the hangar, the scaffolds around it deserted for the raid. We see NGTM1R, standing on the far side of the hangar in front of a large door, which is hidden in shadow below a scaffold. He lights a cigarrette with a match, and waves the flame out, tossing it behind him. Taking a long puff, he drops his arm to his waist, but is suddenly grabbed from behind. A gruff voice eminates from the shadows.
VOICE: Don't move...
The arms twist slightly and a figure drops to the floor from the scaffold above, with a dull whoomph of rubber soled shoes hitting hard metal. A head moves forward, snake like, out of the shadow, dressed in a piece of headgear strangely reminiscent of Splinter Cell's Sam Fisher. The person flips up the visor, revealing himself to be PYRO MX.
PYRO MX: I'm going to let you go. If you make a sound or try to run, I'll kill you.
NGTM1R nods slowly, his eyes wide. PYRO MX slowly slips off of him, but keeps his hands at a disconcerting distance from his neck.
NGTM1R: Wh...who are you?
PYRO MX doesn't answer, instead, he slides a knife out of his vest pocket with one of his hands. Placing it just next to NGTM1R's throat, far enough so that he does not notice, he inquires of the shaky individual in front of him.
PYRO MX: State your allegience...
NGTM1R gulps, and starts to peek around him, but stops himself. Looking up, he closes his eyes.
NGTM1R: My loyalties lie with the original administrators of Hard Light...
He squeezes his eyes tight, preparing for the end. He holds it there for a few seconds, then slowly opens one eye, then the other. PYRO MX has sheathed his knife and is now directing a few other cat-suited operatives forward. They move stealthily and silently past the pair, numbering about twenty in total. NGTM1R turns towards his former captor.
NGTM1R: What are...what are you guys doing?
PYRO MX gives one last hushed statement to one of his operatives, then turns to NGTM1R, who takes a step back instinctively.
PYRO MX: We're the Bravos - and we're commandeering this vessel.
NGTM1R looks confused, and PYRO MX turns to go. He stops, and turns his head back, looking at NGTM1R out of the corner of his eye. Grinning, he lifts his hands up to his head set.
PYRO MX: Yar.
He grins wider and drops the headset over his eyes, then dissappears into the shadows. We cut to:
SCENE ONE HUNDRED SEVEN. INT. NEO TERRA VICTORIOUS CONTROL CENTER - DAY.
A dozen or so people are standing in the cleaned up control room. Aging displays, far less advanced than previous models we have seen, are humming in the background, showing various diagrams and technical readouts. One display in the center of the room shows a massive board, with a two-column list of several objectives, reading down in the order of OBJECTIVE ONE, OBJECTIVE TWO, etc. Several of them are lit from behind by a green glow, yet still others are glowing a crimson red. NICO is sitting in a chair, a cup of warm milk beside him. Nearby stands KALFIRETH, monitoring a hodge podge of several screens stitched together to form one cohesive image. SHRIKE is on the other side of the room at another station, also managing operations on a seperate bank of monitors. KALFIRETH suddenly turns around, and shouts to SHRIKE.
KALFIRETH: Sir! The fleet is in position and they will be jumping to engage the enemy momentarily.
SHRIKE nods and taps away at a few keys. He turns to NICO.
SHRIKE: Nico!
NICO moans and waves a hand at him.
SHRIKE: Sorry...you said you knew which transports our people would be on...?
NICO nods slowly, and takes a gulp of milk.
NICO: They're even numbered - they'll be staying behind...
SHRIKE nods and turns back to his console. He hits a few more keys and up pops a large schematic.
SHRIKE: Excellent...Lightspeed's supposed to be in that group...we'll get him to jump back and warn the other ships, once the enemy has ju...
He trails off. KALFIRETH and NICO turn to face him. NICO grunts inquisitively. SHRIKE taps a few more keys, his brow furrowed. He taps a few more keys, then his eyes go wide - he turns to face KALFIRETH.
SHRIKE: We've got a problem.
KALFIRETH gets up and walks towards him. NICO tries, but slumps back in his chair. KALFIRETH turns to him and chuckles.
KALFIRETH: You always were a lousy man with a hangover, venom...
NICO suddenly gives KALFIRETH a queer, inquisitive look. He continues to stare at KALFIRETH, and apparantly he is the only one that has noticed his slip, as SHRIKE is too busy staring at the screen in front of him. NICO continues to stare at KALFIRETH as the two converse.
KALFIRETH: What is it Shrike?
SHRIKE points at the screen.
SHRIKE: I was running through the jump coordinates on each ship, to confirm what NICO said...
He hits a few keys and up flashes a list of ships, all odd numbered. A line of text next to each of them is flashing red.
SHRIKE:...and I found this. Each of the Rebel ships has a return jump coordinate right behind Hard Light Station...
KALFIRETH: So...?
SHRIKE hits a few more keys. A box is drawn around one of the flashing lines and enlarged, and a new data readout is given.
SHRIKE: Each of these jump coordinates accounts for jump interference from several hundred more starships! They're not just planning to desert us when the enemy fleet arrives - they're planning to join it!
KALFIRETH dashes back over to his instrument panel, and NICO, apparantly having forgotten the previous incident, speaks into a microphone, frantically relaying orders. We cut to:
SCENE ONE HUNDRED EIGHT. INT. ATLANTIS BRIDGE - DAY.
PYRO MX's squad now has complete control of the ship. Several of his squad members are running frantically about the bridge, desperately trying to bring the damaged capital ship online. PYRO MX puts a hand to his ear and speaks.
PYRO MX: Big Turtle is prepped and awaiting the eggs, over.
NICO's voice crackles over the comm link, distorted slightly by the static.
NICO: Acknowledge Big Turtle. Eggs are on the way. Inform Papa Turtle that there has been a change of plans - you are to rendevous with Clutch immediately after Big Bird flies, I repeat, immediately after Big Bird flies away, acknowledge.
PYRO MX: Big Turtle acknowledges, will inform.
He drops his hand from his ear, and we cut to:
SCENE ONE HUNDRED NINE. INT. NEO TERRA VICTORIOUS STAGING AREA - DAY.
SANDWICH is sitting idly on top of a crate, REDSNIPER is next to him, eating out of a small metal tin. SANDWICH looks away, then looks at the floor, his arms crossed.
SANDWICH: Command and Conquer...
REDSNIPER takes a bite and replies, not looking up from his food.
REDSNIPER: Total Annihilation...
SANDWICH: Command and Conquer...
REDSNIPER takes another bite.
REDSNIPER: Total Annihilation...
SANDWICH: Comma--
His reaches up to his ear, pressing in on it. He turns away slightly. NICO's voice comes through, again distorted by static, although less so.
NICO: Papa Turtle, Papa Turtle, this is Shell, come in.
SANDWICH: Papa Turtle here, Shell, go.
NICO: Hatch the eggs, I repeat, hatch the eggs. Flash directives on site, contact Big Turtle for primary reboot, over.
SANDWICH: Acknowledged Shell, eggs are hatching, will flash on site, over and out.
SANDWICH stands up on top of the crate. With one last sideways glance at REDSNIPER, he snipes a parting shot.
SANDWICH: Command and Conquer.
Before he can hear his adversary's retort, he quickly begins to shout out orders to his forces, spinning his finger around in a circle above his head. Hundreds of troopers rise slowly up off of their haunches, loading and checking their weapons. REDSNIPER plops his food tray down on the crate and lurches off of it, meandering over to his powered armor. Clambering onboard, he raises one of it's massive arms and repeat's SANDWICH's motion. Rows upon rows of mechs begin to power up, ready for the march. We fade to:
SCENE ONE HUNDRED TEN. INT. GRANDEUR BRIDGE - DAY.
LIGHTSPEED sits in his chair, numbly staring at a holographic display in front of him. Several ships and asteroids are outlined on it, floating by his placid eyes lazily. Suddenly, a buzz from the communications console in his chair wakes him from his reverie. He depresses a button on it. NICO's voice comes through, extremely distorted by static from the radio.
NICO: Gull, Gull, directives flash as follows: proceed to Clutch immediately after Big Bird flies, command authority Alpha One granted, move Clutch to rear station, over and out.
LIGHTSPEED smirks slightly, and sits up straight. Typing a few commands into his console, the big display moves to the side, and in front of him appears a large tactical command map. He signals to one of his officers.
LIGHTSPEED: Helm, lock our rendevous coordinates, prepare fleet for immediate jump once the enemy forces.
He turns to the center of the bridge, and begins to shout out orders.
LIGHTSPEED: Bring all weaponry online! Prep the fighters for immediate launch, set alert five on all craft! Inform the fleet that we are preparing to launch!
He opens up a few more windows in front of him, and begins pouring over the tactical information. We fade to:
SCENE ONE HUNDRED ELEVEN. INT. ATLANTIS BRIDGE - DAY.
SANDWICH is just strolling onto the deck from the corridor. PYRO MX salutes and stands tall next to the captain's chair. SANDWICH eases gently into the center chair, taking a few moments to appreciate the moment. He looks up at PYRO MX.
SANDWICH: Status on the vessel?
PYRO MX: The Atlantis is ready to go. All troops are loaded and waiting. Three of her four engines are operating, and all exposed decks have been sealed off and denied access. Weaponry is all checked out, you have full capabilities on that front, sir.
SANDWICH: Alright...and what orders were so important that Nico couldn't tell me over the comm?
PYRO MX: Sir, your new orders are to jump to the friendly fleet as soon as the enemy forces launch. It was not revelaed to me as to why this is so.
SANDWICH nods, and inhales.
SANDWICH: Well...let's get this show on the road...!
We cut to:
SCENE ONE HUNDRED TWELVE. EXT. ATLANTIS - DAY.
A loud humming comes from the ship as it starts to power up. An even louder banging noise eminates from some indistinct portion of it, however, it slowly subsides as the massive destroyer lifts off from the deck of the hangar bay, one of it's four main engines noticably dark. The ship rises higher and higher, coming to a stop some distance above the deck. Thruster blasts from the ship's engines send debris flying about the hangar, as the ship slowly lumbers out of the massive cavern, and into the great black beyond. Cut to:
SCENE ONE HUNDRED THIRTEEN. INT. TRANSPORT FIFTY-SIX COCKPIT - DAY.
DRAGONCLAW and GRUG are checking several systems. Outside of the cockpit windows we can see a massive and formidable fleet arrayed in front of them. JETMECH_JR's voice crackles through the comm line.
JETMECH_JR: All designated ships prepare for jump in five...
GRUG and DRAGONCLAW look about the cockpit, straining to see the extent of the fleet. JETMECH_JR continues his countdown.
JETMECH_JR: Four...
JETMECH_JR: Three...
His voice starts to crackle over the comm line.
JETMECH_JR: Two...
Ships begin to move slowly forward.
JETMECH_JR: One...jump.
Throughout the fleet, subspace jump holes open up in front of almost three quarters of the fleet. The massive, lumbering hunks of metal shoot through the blue holes, and disappear, leaving a small force of light ships and transports hovering about the area. DRAGONCLAW turns to GRUG, shaking his head.
DRAGONCLAW: Here we go...
GRUG nods and turns to his instruments, lost in thought. We fade to:
