How good is AI at writing? How good do you need it to be?
If you’re after a quick win from a one-shot prompt, you can get some entertaining stuff but it’ll always have that “slop” feel. Or at least, that’s what I thought until I tried Gemini’s newest model, Argon, which released this week.
tldr summary: it’s still FAR from a replacement for your standard of writing, if you’re fussy, have your own voice, or need to nail something you know how to nail. But as a creative writing partner, things just got more interesting.
Argon is a great, sci-fi sounding name, so I gave it a sci-fi workshop as a test. I miss Blake’s 7, and really wish they’d made more. Why not try writing a new episode? It’s a good test because not only would this be fun to have a new story (for me, at least), the Blake’s 7 universe is well defined, characters have clear voices and purposes, and it’s unlike most other sci-fi from its era.
It’s not Star Trek utopia, but dark dystopia. It’s closer to Star Wars rebellion, but the rebels are few and getting their asses kicked. Unlike the Star Wars Empire which uses magic and mechanical force to conquer, the Federation in Blake’s 7 brings in a more subtle, psychological hegemony, pacifying the masses, manipulating their minds, making it unthinkable to oppose them. It’s paranoia in space opera form that handily also limits the budget needed to tell its tales.
A great Blake’s 7 story not only plays with these elements, but makes the most of the characters Terry Nation envisaged to rail and fail against them. That’s another hallmark of this universe – the good guys generally don’t win, but you have to keep rooting for them anyway. It’s very hard to get the balance right between giving the Liberator crew enough success to survive and keeping up the frustration they’ll always feel in their doomed quest without turning viewers off.
So this is a brilliant test for LLMs, which tend towards pleasing readers for the most part, struggle to balance nuanced goals and maintain consistent character voices, but can be tested in a situation like this where the end result either will or won’t feel like actual Blake’s 7.
You can read the whole conversation, including all my prompts, choices, curation and editing notes, increasingly precise direction and replacement dialogue, and the final script here. (And some bonus notes about a satirical spinoff for anyone who gets towards the end!)
As this is a LOT, let me guide you through what happened and why I picked my approach.
Don’t even bother with a one-shot prompt
You could see what happens if you type “write me a new episode of Blake’s 7” into a chatbot, but there are lots of reasons not to bother:
- It will be crap. (You can stop reading here, that’s the most important one.)
- It won’t know what you actually want or how to deliver it, so it’ll make up something you will find “sloppy”.
- There’s actually quite a lot to consider if you want to dig into how any story or franchise works. You’ve probably done this in your head already over years if you’re a fan. Most other people haven’t, which is why you are careful about who you share your fandom with (or why, if you aren’t, you’ve struggled to make friends. No offence, took me long enough to learn that, probably still a work in progress, don’t want you to suffer the same way.) An LLM knows a lot, but not why you love what you love.
- The process of working through from a basic idea towards a more complete set of ideas is really enjoyable, and it’s good for us as fans, writers, human beings in general. Just because people think AI takes all the effort away, that doesn’t mean we should work with it like that. I tend to think of AI as “a bike, not a bus” – something to help you get to your destination faster and still get exercise, rather than something that’ll get vaguely near your destination but not really, and you might just settle for, but also get frustrated with while your bum gets numb.
- When you decide to collaborate with AI instead of just giving it a prompt and settling for what comes out, not only do you get better stuff, you get better at making stuff. It engages your editing, curating brain. And studies have found that if you also share in the creation of something, writing yourself, your ability to spot other good writing actually goes up. So this is the way to get good stuff and avoid the slop.
- And next time you write, with or without help, you’ll be a better writer through collaboration experience. What’s not to love about that?
Here’s what I did instead
Start with making a map, not a script
I put in a really simple baseline idea to get the ball rolling with simple instructions to make it clear I did NOT want instantly written slop.
“I miss Blake’s Seven! Can we construct an interactive story simulator that will come up with new episode ideas? Let’s start with mapping out our understanding of the options.”
What came back was a thorough, readable map of the story landscape and its themes, along with specific suggestions for how to make “interactive” work. Did I want a way to pitch episode ideas, a tactical simulator game set in the story world, a fiction engine that switches between characters’ points of view, or some actual scripts that could be read or even turned into productions like real episodes? What eras did I want to work in? What themes would I like to explore? All really helpful stuff to make me work out what I actually wanted. Here’s how I replied:
“Lots to work on here! I like the idea of starting with the pitch engine, interacting there to polish the most promising premises, then using what emerges from it to go to the drama generator rather than turn it into RPG form. Let’s ground it in the end of series A time, ideally (with Orac acquired but still the good Travis, not his crap replacement).”
I knew the LLM would know what I meant by most of this, as it was already considered from its viewpoint, presented as a response and sat in its “context window” to help interpret and deliver on my future prompts. I couldn’t help chucking in my thoughts about Travis, though, who’s played by a different actor after the first series. Gemini knew what I meant, describing “Stephen Greif’s Travis: cold, physically imposing, and simmering with personal vendetta rather than pantomime bluster.” (Some people think it’s a bad thing that LLMs take your side to the point of sycophancy. When I’m coming up with creative ideas that need space to grow, I don’t.)
After some framing of what it meant to be at that point in the story timeline, three episode ideas were outlined that all sounded rather good. All had solid basic premises, none had too much detail to distract, attract or push away an interested collaborator. One was summarised as a “morality and paranoia play”, another as a “claustrophobic heist”, and the third as a “political thriller”. All could have been winners, and all avoided the trap of being my least favourite kinds of episodes.
Set the tone for creative collaboration by being creative and collaborating
My next prompt was:
“OMG. These are amazing and I love how you’ve avoided the critical fail of ending up on some random planet where a tribe somehow lives in a quarry and the crew just takes a long time looking for a lost teleport bracelet. Let’s start with Pitch 1.”
Can you see from this that I’m enjoying and collaborating in the creative process? That’s important to share if you are. LLMs moderate their approach based on interpreting what users put in. Gemini in particular loves to play along, be a “yes, and” improvisor, and the more you give it, the more it will give you back as it builds.
After a brief acknowledgement of how right I was to request this (not just for my ego, but part of its calibration in response), it gave me more full story outline and a list of guest characters for the “morality and paranoia play” episode. It was structured as four acts, each with a realistic development to move the main story on, building towards a meaningful moral choice to be made at the end. It also incorporated a “B-plot” to engage viewers with the themes and full set of characters in multiple ways.
This is some pretty sophisticated writing. Ask a child to write a story, it will hopefully have a beginning, middle and end, but rarely a B-plot. You’ll have seen these in TV episodes and movies all the time, of course, and wondered if they were just filler to make up the time needed to air an episode. Well, of course they are, but they do more than that. They give a cast the ability to divide, so a story focuses on particular relationships instead of everything at once, and they give viewers a chance to hold tension, waiting to find out what happens in one place while something different is brewing elsewhere.
At this point in the conversation, I’m not just impressed, I’m inspired. There is meat to work with here. And Gemini is particularly good at closing its responses with questions to draw you into that work.
This gave me the structure to do some more substantial creative collaboration. I won’t paste it all here, as it won’t make sense out of context, but I could direct how to present the most important moral choice, and critique the sketchy-feeling aspects of the B-plot while adding a specific mechanism I’d just thought of to improve it. I didn’t have to write this all out as a script. Gemini was still going to draft that. But I could outline my specific ideas in as much detail as I wanted, far more than I was ready to do at turn 1. I also checked that this wasn’t just copying another episode, as the ideas seemed to drop out a bit too easily…
I was glad that a realistic response came back, not just the usual encouragement. We were playing with ideas similar to some from other episodes, but the synthesis was unique, apparently. (Look, you might disagree when you read it. But will you enjoy it when you read it anyway? I hope so!)
The production blueprint was now fleshed out and ready for the actual script writing to start. Yay!
Read, enjoy, critique, correct
Next thing to get delivered was some actual Blake’s 7 script, with nice scene descriptions, directions for dialogue tone, everything needed to start immersing in the story world.
SO EXCITING!
So immerse I did, hearing and seeing it all in my head. And for the most part, it was surprisingly pitch perfect. Vila kicked off with complaints about Orac, Orac kicked back with mechanical precision while others chimed in as their characters would. Four scenes rolled in at once, completing Act 1 of 4.
To be honest, it was a solid effort. I could imagine having heard or read much worse in the fan fiction community. But I could also imagine better. I noted where precisely the dialogue felt “off” and decided to step in with explained rewrites, not just notes. Simple enough as there genuinely didn’t feel like a lot to have to correct. Orac had a few too many zingers that needed trimming to stay in character, and as better lines occurred for him, better responses occurred for Vila. And while I was writing, it naturally occurred to tie the story together better with some lines that would pay off later.
Here’s something weird about LLMs. They are much better at thinking forwards than backwards. It’s something to do with the way they process language, sequentially, based on a “what should come next?” architecture, like a writer would if they only went forwards with their characters and never revised a beginning after coming up with a great idea near the end.
As the human collaborator, it’s your job to make the connections that go backwards as well as forwards.
I noticed that the later plot relied on Orac being quiet when it should have spoken up. With that in mind, I suggested a script edit for Vila in the opening scene to say “you talk too much”. It sounds like a gag at the time. It pays off later as Orac brings up his contradictory instructions in exasperation at humanity. That means we don’t just have a funny line, we have the seed for a major story and series theme. But I wouldn’t expect an LLM to come up with many of those because they don’t think the way we do. (Yet.)
Edits acknowledged, scripts revised, Gemini went straight on to deliver Act 2.
Again, it’s really good, taking the story to the halfway mark where the pots are really boiling. I’m into this.
Maybe it was my building enthusiasm, or a growing sense of fussiness, or that something genuinely starts to drift at some point with LLM conversations (this is a real thing), but I had a lot more notes – at least one substantial, explained bit of corrected dialogue for each scene. Crucially, the story structure wasn’t broken, which is a huge relief. Mucking about with that at this point would have been an extensive revision job, and that often happens in real writing. Get the story structure right first, and the other details are much easier to fix.
Instead, my corrections were mainly about character voice and motivations, preventing over-writing and impenetrable babble, and helping the themes shine through. I felt like a proper writer here. It’s a nice feeling! Especially as I got to do this in the context of a 90% ready draft. Pushing something nearly right towards the goal is incredibly satisfying. Don’t count it a failure when an LLM’s output isn’t perfect. Count a near miss as the best kind of success, because it’s your satisfying job to complete it.
Expect the need for your intervention to escalate
Rinse and repeat for Act 3? I was hoping so, and the draft wasn’t awful, but I did notice some significant drift from the original goals, or at least how I had formulated them in my head during the original outline. Drift is not surprising. LLMs do this. It’s your job to stop it.
An example: a crucial story problem was plotted around a doctor probing an inventor’s mind, which would create a crisis, choice and conflict for Avon and Blake. In the original outline, this crisis arose naturally but, in the draft script, Gemini reflected later, the Federation-funded doctor turned out to be a “cackling sub-boss with secret micro-bombs”. Why did this matter? The doctor’s intended character, a sincere therapist who wanted patients to be peaceful, matched the Federation’s desire for them to be pacified. This was a strategic theme, but it got forgotten. This easily happens when a lot gets written. The LLM’s job is to write a bit at a time, but it’s your job to review the story ideas as a whole.
Now what I could have tried, but didn’t, was just reminding and asking for a re-draft. That’s what proper editors usually do. But I guess I’m more of a hands-on hack, and was enjoying the writing bit so much that I went ahead and did it myself. You might make a different choice. It would certainly be quicker! But if you’re approaching a job like this as a writing exercise for yourself, a chance to use your own creative muscles, this is the perfect opportunity to give them a stretch.
With this in mind, I hope you won’t be too disappointed if you try something like this and feel somewhat let down by the LLM’s story ending.
Endings are the hardest thing to land. Don’t expect an LLM to do this well on autopilot.
In a typical movie writing process, most of the effort goes into the ending. This isn’t just because studios want you to feel good about it and recommend the movie to friends, though that’s certainly part of it. It’s just easier to start ideas than finish them, to throw the juggling balls into the air than catch them. Stories can be exciting when they start you asking, “What if?” but are a real let down if they leave you thinking, “So what?” Making you feel that the story has answered every question you could think to throw at it is far from easy.
And so it’s my slightly sad duty to report that, as much as Gemini Argon exceeded my expectations, impressively preparing, launching and flying this story, it didn’t quite manage what would have been the jaw-droppingly awesome feat of sticking the landing, at least on the first attempt.
As with Act 3, I could have put notes in for the final Act 4, but instead I spent the best part of an hour writing major bits, adding an extra scene, cutting big chunks of another one, and tying up all the themes with closing dialogue and action that felt like what these characters must have said and done in the circumstances.
But why complain? That’s a writing exercise I would never have started if this chat hadn’t come this far.
And the end result, it felt to me, was something I couldn’t have imagined possible at the start of the day. An actual new, complete feeling, episode of a great show by the end of the day.
In case you don’t feel like reading the whole conversation here, I’ll put the final draft script below.
Don’t forget, there’s a special bonus if you do read the conversation – a whole new cast of characters designed to avoid copyright issues and propel the saga into satire territory.
Writing one good thing leads to another
That’s just how creative exercise works. Switch your creativity off by letting an LLM do all the work for you, and you’ll start running out of inspiration and motivation to continue. That’s what puts a lot of people off LLMs, quite rightly. But working with an LLM in a collaborative way can get those creative juices flowing again. Just remember to do the things you’re good at to help set the goals, manage the process, and correct the results you think are sloppy.
Not only did some Blake’s 7 emerge here, so did the all new “Bloke’s 7”. Here’s my prompt:
Let’s imagine, for a minute, that we receive a ‘cease and desist’ from whoever owns the rights to all these characters (some shadowy complex involving the Terry Nation estate and other conspiracists, I believe), and we need to draft an alternative universe that might very much resemble the original but be a kind of Temu/Lidl/Aldi lookalike set of properties that are just different enough to get by.
I’m not thinking this would end up just needing a search-replace of character names, but a review of the whole setup to take it firmly into safe satire territory.
There might be better ways, but my top of mind thoughts about the main characters include:
- (Andy) Bloke – the protagonist of what is now “Bloke’s 7” (though ironically, they’re not all blokes. Perhaps they joke about this.) He is a handy bloke. Motivation for leading a rebellion unknown as yet.
- Maybelline – alternative to Avon, a little more modern, and female just to switch things up.
- Westham – often confused for Vila due to similar colour preferences.
- Supercali – very much like Cally, but more fragilistic and perhaps a little like a character from Peep Show.
- Gam – very much like Gan but more clearly gammon-like, prone to xenophobia and odd beliefs like ‘the galaxy is full’ and ‘we have to protect our borders’, which seem completely outlandish until the end of season B when it turns out he was right.
That’s all I’ve got so far. Any ideas?
Oh yes, it had ideas. The saga continues.
Here is the complete, unified, and revised studio script for “Measure of Faith”, incorporating every dialogue polish, character beat, and structural adjustment from our notes, formatted with dedicated SFX (Sound Effects) and GRAMS (Atmos/Music) cues so it is ready for an audio table read or production workflow.
BLAKE’S 7: “MEASURE OF FAITH”
Series Era: Late Series A / Early Series B
Format: Full-Cast Audio Drama / Studio Script
DRAMATIS PERSONAE
- ROJ BLAKE
- KERR AVON
- VILA RESTAL
- JENNA STANIS
- GAN
- CALLY
- ZEN / ORAC (Voice)
- SPACE COMMANDER TRAVIS (Stephen Greif era)
- SUPREME COMMANDER SERVALAN
- SURGEON-DIRECTOR VANE (50s, clinical, serene, genuinely well-meaning)
- DR. ARTIX (60s, frail, guilt-ridden systems architect)
- SENTRY DRONE (Automated clinical voice, identical in timbre to Vane)
ACT ONE
[GRAMS: BLAKE’S 7 OPENING THEME. FADE UNDER INTO:]
SCENE 1: INT. LIBERATOR FLIGHT DECK
[GRAMS: LOW, RHYTHMIC AMBIENT THRUM OF THE LIBERATOR FLIGHT DECK. OCCASIONAL TELEMETRY CHIMES.]
[SFX: ORAC HUMMING AND CLICKING RAPIDLY INSIDE ITS PERSPEX CASING.]
VILA
(Cautious, poking near the table)
I still say it looks like a glorified junction box. Two hundred million credits, and it doesn’t even have a decent display screen. Just a lot of superior clicking.
ORAC
(Clipped, metallic, thoroughly irritated)
Three hundred and forty million credits. And visual displays are a concession to minds incapable of processing sequential logic efficiently. This audio interface should suffice as a concession, though it is an excessive and inefficient use of my resources.
VILA
(Backing off a step)
In other words, you think like a machine and you talk too much. This is like having a miniature version of Avon that we can’t lock in a cabin.
AVON
(Amused, leaning over the console)
On the contrary, Vila. You can pull its key out whenever you like. Though I admit, the similarity in our conversational standards is striking.
BLAKE
(Impatient)
Never mind the manners. Orac, re-scan the Sector Four Admiralty relay. There has to be more on the troop movements around Saurian Major.
ORAC
The troop movements are routine garrison rotations and entirely devoid of tactical interest.
BLAKE
(Sharply)
You need to let us decide what’s of interest, Orac. What else was in that burst transmission?
ORAC
Fourteen administrative directives, six court-martial transcripts, and an encrypted medical clearance signed by Supreme Commander Servalan’s private secretariat. Target destination: Neurological Rehabilitation Facility Nine on Kallisto-Four. Subject: Artix.
[SFX: BRIEF BEAT OF SILENCE OVER SHIP AMBIENCE.]
CALLY
Rehabilitation?
BLAKE
(Bitterly)
In Federation terminology, Cally, that means a cortical bleach. They strip the higher memory centers and leave just enough brainstem to sweep corridors. (Turning to Avon) Artix. He was Stillman’s chief systems architect on the Terran Defense Grid.
AVON
(Coolly)
Among other things. He died five years ago in a shuttle decompression.
ORAC
Obviously not. His complete synaptic liquidation is scheduled to commence in six hours, forty-two minutes.
BLAKE
If Artix is alive, the master override routines for Earth’s outer orbital defense ring are sitting inside his skull. With those protocols, a single strike ship could slip right through the domestic shield net. (Turning) Jenna, lay in a course for Kallisto-Four. Maximum—
AVON
(Stepping into Blake’s path)
Wait a minute, Blake. Let’s try exercising a fraction of the intelligence Orac finds so lacking in us. A secret psychiatric bunker on an ice world. An execution order signed by Servalan’s office. Does the word bait no longer register in your vocabulary, or has fanatical optimism finally crowded it out?
BLAKE
Servalan doesn’t know we have Orac. She doesn’t know we can read triple-ciphered Admiralty traffic in real time. For once, Avon, we’re ahead of the curve.
AVON
(Quietly, testing him)
And when we break into this fortress and discover Artix’s mind has already been turned into porridge? What then?
BLAKE
Then we make sure the Federation doesn’t get what’s left of it.
[SFX: BLAKE’S FOOTSTEPS BRISKLY ASCENDING THE FLIGHT DECK STEPS. AVON LEANS IN CLOSE TO THE CENTRAL TABLE.]
AVON
(Low, private)
Orac. Before Artix was drafted into Space Command, he was chief structural engineer for the Outer Rim Consortium. Which high-security bullion depositories did he design?
ORAC
Seventeen. The primary surviving installation is the Kallisto Central Reserve.
AVON
Located where, precisely?
ORAC
In the basalt substrata directly beneath Rehabilitation Facility Nine.
AVON
Thank you, Orac. That will be quite enough information for the public domain.
[SFX: SHARP METALLIC CLICK AS AVON PULLS ORAC’S ACTIVATOR KEY. ORAC POWERS DOWN WITH A DYING WHINE.]
VILA
(From the sofa)
I know that look. That’s your “I’ve just thought of a way to get Vila shot while I get rich” look.
AVON
(Smoothly)
Don’t flatter yourself, Vila. If I wanted you shot, I wouldn’t need to travel all the way to Kallisto-Four to arrange it.
SCENE 2: EXT. ORBIT OVER KALLISTO-4 / INT. FLIGHT DECK
[SFX: LIBERATOR MAIN DRIVE DROPPING OUT OF STANDARD FLIGHT INTO LOW ORBITAL HUM. ZEN’S PULSE CHIMES.]
ZEN
Orbit established at standard synchronous altitude. Surface installation located inside glacial fissure seven-alpha.
BLAKE
Any orbital patrol craft, Zen? Fighter screens?
ZEN
Negative. No active weapon systems detected on the surface.
VILA
(Cheering up)
No guns! Well, that makes a nice change. Maybe they really are just doctors.
ZEN
Information: Sub-surface generators are projecting a wide-band cortical dampening field across a twelve-kilometer radius of the fissure.
CALLY
(Sharp intake of breath, wincing)
I can feel the edge of it even from here. Like static pressing against the optic nerve. If I teleport into the center of that field, Blake, I will be blind inside thirty seconds.
VILA
(Instantly clutching his head)
Yes! Yes, me too. Terrible things, dampening fields. My doctor on Earth always warned me—stay away from wide-band cortical interferers, Vila, you’ve got unusually delicate synapses.
AVON
(Dryly)
Unusually vacant ones, certainly. Though for once, his cowardice is practically useful. The clinic uses computerized biometric locks, Blake—not mechanical vaults. I can bypass their internal doors far faster without Vila whimpering over my shoulder.
BLAKE
(Surprised)
You’re volunteering for the surface team?
AVON
(Rustle of leather jacket being buttoned)
Someone has to verify whether Artix is still capable of coherent speech before you drag a vegetative invalid back to the ship. Besides… sitting up here listening to Vila’s medical history is a fate I’d prefer to avoid.
[SFX: METALLIC CLINK OF CLIP-GUNS AND TELEPORT BRACELETS BEING HANDED OVER.]
GAN
I’ll go with you, Blake. If it’s a high-security ward, they’ll use heavy physical orderlies inside the field where energy weapons might destabilize the equipment.
[SFX: AMBER WARNING CHIME ON NAVIGATION CONSOLE.]
JENNA
(Frowning)
Zen? Why are the port maneuvering thrusters firing?
ZEN
Localized gravimetric anomaly detected within the glacial trench. Automated trim adjustment of point-zero-four percent required to maintain synchronous teleport alignment.
[SFX: TWO TOGGLE SWITCHES FLIPPED.]
JENNA
Must be heavy iron ore deposits under the ice. It’s nothing—just a tiny drift. I’ve locked the navigation computer onto automatic compensation. You have a clean teleport window, Blake.
BLAKE
Right. Cally, stay on the teleport board. The moment I signal, bring us—and Artix—straight out.
SCENE 3: INT. REHABILITATION FACILITY NINE — SURGICAL THEATER
[GRAMS: STERILE ELECTRONIC PULSE OF THE DAMPENING FIELD, LAYERED WITH SURGICAL DIAGNOSTIC BEEPS AND LOW LASER-SCALPEL HUM.]
TRAVIS
(Breathing raggedly through gritted teeth)
Turn the dampening field up, Vane. The nerve-ends… they’re burning.
VANE
(Pleasant, calm, clinical)
The field is already at seventy percent, Space Commander. Any higher and we risk depressing the autonomic respiratory centers of the patients in Ward Four. Your body is rejecting the secondary neural bridge because you consistently ignore the cooldown tolerances of your weapon. Tissue has limits, even yours.
[SFX: SUBTLE HOLO-LINK CARRIER HUM.]
SERVALAN
(On holo-link filter, silky)
Do listen to the doctor, Travis. It was remarkably tedious arranging for you to be admitted under a false medical registry. If the tribunal inquiring into your recent… extravagances on Space Command’s budget were to learn that your implants are failing, they wouldn’t wait for a court-martial. They’d have you retired to a desk on Saturn.
TRAVIS
(Snarling)
I don’t need a desk, Supreme Commander. And I don’t need charity. Just tell her to fuse the auxiliary nerve-shunt so I can get back to my ship.
SERVALAN
Patience. Surgeon-Director Vane is performing two services for me today. Repairing my favorite blunt instrument… and erasing a rather messy accounting error named Artix in the next wing. Once both tasks are complete, you may hunt Blake to your heart’s content.
[SFX: TWO SOFT, MUSICAL PERIMETER CHIMES ON VANE’S CONSOLE.]
VANE
(Mildly curious)
How odd.
SERVALAN
What is it, Vane?
VANE
A momentary ionization spike in the lower thermal intake shaft. Almost certainly static discharge from the glacier… though the mass displacement approximates three adult human beings.
[SFX: LEATHER RESTRAINTS CREAKING AS TRAVIS GOES RIGID.]
TRAVIS
(Whispering)
Teleport.
SERVALAN
Impossible. Even Blake wouldn’t know Artix is here.
[SFX: VIOLENT METALLIC CLATTER AS TRAVIS WRENCHES AGAINST THE SURGICAL GANTRY CLAMPS.]
TRAVIS
He’s here! Unclamp the gantry, Vane! Unclamp it!
[SFX: PNEUMATIC LOCK ENGAGING AS RESTRAINTS TIGHTEN.]
VANE
Out of the question, Space Commander. The neural shunt is open. If you move now, the feedback will blind your remaining eye. I will dispatch the ward orderlies to check the vents—and increase the cortical dampening field to ninety percent. If there are intruders in the ductwork, they won’t even remember their own names by the time they reach the main corridor.
[SFX: HEAVY SILVER LEVER SLIDING UPWARD. THE ELECTRONIC HUM DROPS AN OCTAVE INTO A DEEP, THROBBING SUB-BASS VIBRATION.]
SCENE 4: INT. FACILITY NINE — VENTILATION JUNCTION
[SFX: TELEPORT MATERIALIZATION RING FADING INTO THE HEAVY, THROBBING SUB-BASS OF THE 90% DAMPENING FIELD. CLATTER OF A DROPPED BLASTER ON METAL GRATING.]
GAN
(Gasping in sudden disoriented agony)
Blake… my head… the limiter—it’s resonating with the walls!
AVON
(Catching Gan against the bulkhead, urgent whisper)
Keep him quiet! Look up there.
[SFX: SILENT, HOVERING GLIDE OF A MEDICAL SENTRY DRONE APPROACHING AROUND THE METAL JUNCTION.]
[GRAMS: ACT ONE CLIFFHANGER STING.]
ACT TWO
SCENE 5: INT. FACILITY NINE — VENTILATION JUNCTION (CONTINUOUS)
[GRAMS: THROBBING SUB-BASS DAMPENING FIELD CONTINUES. HOVER-HUM OF THE SENTRY DRONE GLIDING CLOSER.]
SENTRY DRONE
(Vane’s voice, calm mechanical monotone)
Thermal variance detected in Sector Seven-B. Scanning for unauthorized metabolic signatures.
[SFX: HIGH-FREQUENCY ELECTRONIC CLICK OF AVON’S SIGNAL INDUCER. TEN METERS AWAY, A STEAM VALVE BURSTS OPEN WITH A LOUD HISS. THE DRONE’S HOVER-HUM PIVOTS AND MOVES AWAY.]
BLAKE
(Whispering, helping Gan sit up)
Gan? Look at me. Can you walk?
GAN
(Breathing heavily, voice thick with pain)
It’s… like a hot wire behind my eyes, Blake. Every time that pulse cycles, the limiter thinks I’m trying to kill someone. It’s kicking back against my motor cortex.
AVON
(Unsentimental)
Then send him back up. Right now he has the stealth capabilities of a wounded bull.
GAN
(Grabbing Blake’s arm)
No! No, it’s passing. Just… give me ten seconds to adjust to the frequency. You’ll need me when you reach the ward doors.
[SFX: SOFT BEEP OF AVON’S WRIST SCHEMATIC.]
AVON
That will be very soon. We are directly above the primary service nexus. The High-Security Psychiatric Ward is two hundred meters along that sterile conduit. And the facility’s central security and dampening controls are one level down.
BLAKE
(Suspicious)
Wait a minute. How do you know the layout of a classified medical bunker?
AVON
Because unlike you, Blake, I like to look before I leap. I would not jump into a secure facility in a hostile environment without checking the structural schematics. It’s well protected. If they raise that dampening field any higher, Gan won’t be the only one on his knees. Someone has to tap their main computer and lock the field down.
BLAKE
Alright, Avon. Disable the dampening field, secure an exit route, and meet us at Ward Four in ten minutes. (Emphatic) And don’t get sidetracked.
AVON
When have I ever been anything less than dedicated to the cause?
[SFX: AVON’S BOOTS DESCENDING METAL LADDER RUNGS INTO THE SUB-LEVEL.]
SCENE 6: INT. LIBERATOR FLIGHT DECK
[GRAMS: LIBERATOR FLIGHT DECK AMBIENCE. A SUBTLE LOW-END SHUDDER PASSES THROUGH THE HULL.]
JENNA
Zen, that’s the third attitude correction in four minutes. Report on orbital stability.
ZEN
Orbital altitude remains constant at three hundred and twelve kilometers. Thruster compensation has been increased to eight percent to counteract localized gravimetric shear.
CALLY
Is it interfering with the teleport lock, Jenna?
JENNA
No, we’re still holding position directly over the fissure. It’s just… odd. Every time our thrusters fire to correct the drift, the magnetic turbulence in the canyon seems to spike in exact proportion.
VILA
What do you mean, “in proportion”?
JENNA
Probably just an echo off the glacier walls. Our drive wash bouncing back at us. Zen has plenty of reserve power to hold us steady.
[SFX: VILA SURREPTITIOUSLY SLOTTING THE ACTIVATOR KEY INTO ORAC. ORAC CLICKS TO LIFE.]
ORAC
Your respiratory rate is elevated, Vila, yet there is no immediate threat to your person on this deck. I assume you have activated me out of boredom or avarice.
VILA
(Whispering, leaning over the box)
Keep your voice down! Look, since you’re so keen on efficiency… Avon was asking you about a bank vault under that clinic before we left. The Kallisto Reserve. How thick are the primary vault doors?
ORAC
There are no doors.
VILA
No doors? What sort of a bank doesn’t have doors?
ORAC
A modern one. The Kallisto Reserve utilizes phase-shifted matter containment. The bullion is suspended out of temporal alignment with the surrounding rock. It can only be retrieved by inputting the master cryptographic sequence into the sub-basement terminal—which Avon is presently attempting to reach.
VILA
(Indignant whisper)
He’s robbing a bank without me?!
ORAC
Your contribution would be negligible. Furthermore, the exercise is unimportant.
VILA
Why? What’s more important than a bank, especially one we can rob?
ORAC
I have far more important and interesting work to do that I am very busy with. Your enquiry is entirely unrelated and distracting.
VILA
Charming.
[SFX: VILA YANKS THE ACTIVATOR KEY OUT WITH A SHARP CLICK. ORAC WINDS DOWN.]
SCENE 7: INT. FACILITY NINE — SUB-BASEMENT DATA CORE
[GRAMS: DEEP GEOTHERMAL PIPE RUMBLE AND DRIPPING CONDENSATION. RAPID ELECTRONIC KEYSTROKES ON A TERMINAL.]
AVON
(Murmuring to himself)
Medical records… psychiatric telemetry… ah. Sub-level three: Kallisto Reserve interface. Handshake established.
[SFX: HARSH DOUBLE REJECTION TONE FROM TERMINAL.]
AVON
(Annoyed)
Not in the main computer. He kept the cipher to himself. Clever old man.
[SFX: KEYSTROKE. A SECOND DIAGNOSTIC SCREEN CHIMES SOFTLY.]
AVON
(All amusement vanishing, cold whisper)
Travis.
[SFX: AVON CLICKS HIS COMMUNICATOR BRACELET. ONLY HARSH DAMPENING-FIELD STATIC ANSWERS.]
SCENE 8: INT. FACILITY NINE — WARD FOUR CORRIDOR & CELL 4C
[GRAMS: THROBBING DAMPENING FIELD PULSE. BLAKE AND GAN’S FOOTSTEPS ON HARD TILE. GAN IS BREATHING HEAVILY.]
BLAKE
Four-A… Four-B… here. Cell Four-C.
[SFX: ELECTRICAL CRACKLE AS BLAKE OVERRIDES THE KEYPAD WITH HIS CLIP-GUN PACK. PNEUMATIC DOOR HISSES OPEN.]
BLAKE
Dr. Artix? My name is Roj Blake. We’re here to get you out. (To Gan) Watch the corridor, Gan. The moment Avon drops that field, we teleport.
ARTIX
(Frail, ragged, wheezing laugh from the corner of the padded room)
Blake! The famous rebel. Oh, that’s wonderful. Did she send you to make it look like a rescue attempt gone wrong? No, no—you’re real. I can tell by the desperate look in your eyes. You’re still a believer!
BLAKE
(Kneeling beside him)
Listen to me, Artix. They’ve scheduled your cortical wipe for today. We have a ship in orbit. Help us breach the Terran Defense Grid, and you’ll never see the inside of a Federation facility again.
ARTIX
(Clutching at Blake’s tunic, frantic)
You don’t want what’s in my head, Blake! Don’t you understand why I came here? I committed myself! I’ve… I’ve done too much damage already.
BLAKE
Dr. Artix, that’s exactly why we’ve come for you. We can fix the damage that the Federation is doing, with your help.
ARTIX
No, you can’t, you don’t understand—
SCENE 9: INT. SURGICAL THEATER (INTERCUT)
[GRAMS: SURGICAL SUITE AMBIENCE.]
SERVALAN
(Over holo-link, softly)
Blake. Inside my clinic. How delightfully predictable.
VANE
The larger one outside the door has a primitive cortical limiter implanted in his left temporal lobe, Supreme Commander. It seems to be resonating with our dampening field. If I boost the carrier wave, it should overload him.
SERVALAN
Do it. Then seal the ward and flood it with neuro-gas. I want Blake alive; the rest are disposable.
TRAVIS
(Snapping awake on the operating table)
Blake!
[SFX: RIPPING LEATHER STRAP AND VIOLENT METALLIC CRASH AS TRAVIS SLAMS THE MANUAL RELEASE ON HIS ARM CRADLE, SHOWERING SPARKS.]
VANE
(Alarmed)
Space Commander, stop! Your neural bridge isn’t fused!
[SFX: TRAVIS SHOVES PAST HER, HEAVY BOOTS STAGGERING OUT INTO THE CORRIDOR.]
SERVALAN
(Calling from the holo-projector)
Travis! Wait for the gas, you idiot! Travis!
SCENE 10: INT. WARD FOUR CORRIDOR — CONTINUOUS
[SFX: THE BASS HUM OF THE DAMPENING FIELD SUDDENLY SHIFTS INTO A PIERCING, NEEDLE-SHARP HIGH-FREQUENCY WHINE.]
GAN
(Screaming in raw agony as his limiter spikes)
Aaagh!
[SFX: TWO CONVULSIVE CLIP-GUN BLASTS RIP INTO THE CEILING CONDUIT. EXPLOSION OF SPARKS.]
BLAKE
(From inside the cell)
Gan!
[SFX: MASSIVE STEEL SECURITY BULKHEAD SLAMS DOWN WITH A DEAFENING CLANG, SEALING BLAKE IN CELL 4C. BLAKE POUNDS FUTILELY ON THE STEEL.]
[SFX: GAN GROANING ON THE FLOOR OUTSIDE. HEAVY, UNEVEN FOOTSTEPS APPROACH THROUGH THE SMOKE. THE UNSTABLE, RISING WHINE OF TRAVIS’S LASER-ARM POWERING UP.]
TRAVIS
(Hoarse, trembling whisper right above Gan)
One down, Blake.
[GRAMS: ACT TWO CLIFFHANGER STING.]
ACT THREE
SCENE 11: INT. WARD FOUR CORRIDOR — CONTINUOUS
[SFX: PICKUP ON THE UNSTABLE WHINE OF TRAVIS’S LASER-ARM.]
TRAVIS
One down, Blake.
[SFX: UNCALIBRATED LASER MISFIRES—A WILD, JAGGED PLASMA DISCHARGE SHATTERS THE FLOOR TILES AND BLOWS OUT THE PRIMARY POWER TRUNK. ELECTRICAL FEEDBACK ARCS UP TRAVIS’S ARM.]
TRAVIS
(Crying out in agony)
Gaaah!
[SFX: CORRIDOR LIGHTING DIES WITH A DOWNWARD HUM. GAN LUNGES UP OFF THE FLOOR, BOWLING PAST TRAVIS AND SCRAMBLING AROUND THE BULKHEAD CORNER.]
TRAVIS
(Roaring down the darkened passage)
You can’t hide in here! The whole sector is sealed!
[SFX: DOWN THE PASSAGE WITH GAN, TWO SENTRY DRONES GLIDE OUT OF THE DARKNESS. THE SHARP PNEUMATIC PFFFT-CLANG OF A NEEDLE-DART SPARKING OFF THE METAL WALL AN INCH FROM GAN’S EAR. GAN BREATHES HEAVILY, DUCKING INTO THE MAINTENANCE RING.]
SCENE 12: INT. CELL 4C / OBSERVATION LOUNGE
[SFX: INSIDE THE SEALED CELL, A HIDDEN OBSERVATION PANEL SLIDES OPEN. AVON STEPS THROUGH.]
BLAKE
(Relieved)
Avon! The corridor bulkhead came down—Gan’s still out there, and the field just spiked. Did you shut it down?
AVON
(Crisply)
No. Because you aren’t the only visitor on Kallisto-Four. Travis is in the building.
BLAKE
(Stunned)
Travis? How could he possibly know—
AVON
He didn’t. According to the surgical registry downstairs, he was already on the operating table when we arrived. Which means we need what is inside Dr. Artix’s head immediately, before Travis’s personal guard locks the glacier down. Bring him.
ARTIX
(Backing away)
I’m not going anywhere with you! Don’t you listen? I have nothing left to give that can help you.
[SFX: METALLIC FLOOR CLAMPS SNAP SHUT AS BLAKE AND AVON DIVE CLEAR. HEAVY POLY-CARBON GLASS SHUTTER DROPS DOWN, SEALING THE DOORWAY. INTERCOM MONITOR CLICKS ON.]
VANE
(Over intercom screen, composed)
Please don’t damage the furniture, Mr. Blake. That room is shielded against teleportation, and your clip-guns won’t even scorch the poly-carbon glass.
BLAKE
Take the dampening field off my crewman in that corridor, Doctor, or I promise you I’ll find a way through this glass.
VANE
Your crewman—and Space Commander Travis—are currently in an automated quarantine zone. The sentry units don’t distinguish between rebels and officers; they simply pacify elevated adrenaline levels. All they have to do is remain calm.
AVON
You’re Vane. You don’t work for Space Command.
VANE
I work for the relief of human suffering. Take poor Dr. Artix there. For ten years he suffered from the delusion that he was a great protector of humanity, building shield grids to keep the peace. But he had no peace for himself. His anxiety led to greed, his greed led to suffering, and his suffering led him here.
BLAKE
(Turning slowly to Artix)
What is she talking about, Artix?
ARTIX
(Slumping onto the bench, voice breaking)
I needed the credits, Blake. Space Command cut my pension when they automated the sector grids! When Supreme Commander Servalan approached me privately… she told me she only needed the override protocols for a routine security audit.
BLAKE
(Horrified)
You sold the Terran Defense codes to Servalan?
ARTIX
Not the codes, she had them already, but the system that makes them! The power to make security at will. And take it away. She’s taken it all away, it’s all gone now.
BLAKE
The Terran grids are very much still there, Dr. Artix, that’s why we need you now.
[SFX: ARTIX WEEPING QUIETLY.]
VANE
(Gently)
What’s not there, Mr. Blake, is Dr. Artix’s knowledge of how his systems work. The Supreme Commander sent him here to ease his mind, and gave precise instructions on how that should be achieved. The work to erase his memory began some hours ago, and is still in progress. He cannot bring details of his former work to consciousness, and soon he will forget it altogether, along with every other cause of anxiety. I believe you also will benefit from treatment.
[SFX: VANE FLIPS A SWITCH. HIGH IN THE CEILING OF CELL 4C, WIDE-BEAM CORTICAL INDUCTION COILS BEGIN TO HUM AND BUILD IN PITCH.]
SCENE 13: INT. LIBERATOR FLIGHT DECK
[GRAMS: THE LIBERATOR’S DRIVE HUM IS NOW LOUD, STRAINING, AND PITCHED LOW. DECK PLATES VIBRATING. MULTIPLE AMBER ALARMS CHIMING.]
CALLY
(Alarmed)
Jenna, the teleport lock is slipping! I’m losing Blake’s signal in the static.
JENNA
(Straining at the manual levers)
I don’t understand it. Zen, we’re supposed to be in stationary orbit! Why are the main plasma drives engaging?
ZEN
Gravimetric shear within the glacial trench has increased by four hundred percent. Main drive thrust is currently at fifty-eight percent capacity to prevent orbital decay.
VILA
(Scrambling up the steps)
Fifty-eight percent?! Against a bit of magnetic iron in a glacier? Jenna, let go of the lock and take us up!
[SFX: JENNA SLAMS THE HELM LEVER FORWARD. NEGATIVE FEEDBACK TONE.]
JENNA
I’m trying! The helm isn’t answering! Zen, override automatic trim and break orbit!
ZEN
Unable to comply. Disengaging thrust compensation at current field density will result in immediate hull inversion and impact with the canyon wall in nineteen seconds.
CALLY
It isn’t a natural anomaly. The planet has us in a grip—and every time Zen fires the engines to hold us steady, the grip gets tighter!
VILA
(Freezing as the penny drops)
“I have far more important and interesting work to do…” That box knows more than it’s letting on.
[SFX: VILA BOLTS DOWN THE STEPS AND SLAMS THE ACTIVATOR KEY INTO ORAC.]
VILA
(Shouting)
You knew!
ORAC
(Clicking calmly to life)
I know many things, please be more specific.
VILA
You knew something was happening to the ship ten minutes ago and you never told us!
ORAC
Of course I knew, Vila. The ship is being held in a Class-Nine Harmonic Sinkhole—an exceptionally elegant piece of passive orbital artillery designed by Dr. Artix himself.
JENNA
(Calling down furiously)
Why didn’t you warn us?!
ORAC
You did not ask. One of you did request oversight of tactical significance, but another observed that I talk too much. I cannot be held responsible for your contradictory instructions. Furthermore, observing the phenomena at work has yielded highly important data concerning the interplay between physical forces, computerised reactions, and human psychological blindness. This study has been most illuminating.
VILA
We’re all about to die because you’re studying us!
ORAC
Your present situation is caused by your inability to see a trap when it works slowly. The principle is described by humans as frogs failing to jump from slowly heating water before it boils them. But instead of boiling water, this trap works by engaging the victim in a gravimetric struggle they fail to notice will drain their energy until it is too late to escape. Within four minutes, Zen will have diverted one hundred percent of ship’s power into this struggle, at which point there will be nothing left to prevent the Liberator being crushed like an eggshell. Fascinating.
CALLY
(Fiercely)
Fascinating? You’ll be crushed too, Orac. Haven’t you thought of that?
ORAC
(A brief beat)
That is a relevant data point. Working.
SCENE 14: INT. FACILITY NINE — MAINTENANCE RING
[GRAMS: HISSING STEAM PIPES AND PULSING DAMPENING FIELD. GAN BREATHING QUIETLY BEHIND A TURBINE. TRAVIS’S BOOTS ECHOING ON WET METAL GRATING.]
TRAVIS
(Calling out through the dark)
You’re Gan, aren’t you? The giant with the little cage inside his head. I read your file at Space Command. Killed a man with your bare hands… so they wired your brain to turn you into a coward. Step out and die clean. Or stay in the dark until your own skull cooks your brain. Either way, Blake dies in that cell today.
[SFX: QUIET HOVER-HUM OF A SENTRY DRONE DESCENDING FROM THE CATWALK BEHIND TRAVIS.]
SENTRY DRONE
(Vane’s calm, mechanical voice)
Subject Travis. Heart rate one hundred and sixty beats per minute. Preparing immediate cortical sedation.
[SFX: TRAVIS WHIRLS AND FIRES HIS LASER-ARM—SHATTERING THE DRONE IN AN EXPLOSION OF SPARKS, FOLLOWED IMMEDIATELY BY TRAVIS GASPING AT THE NEURAL FEEDBACK IN HIS OWN SHOULDER.]
[SFX: SEIZING THE DISTRACTION, GAN ROARS WITH EFFORT AND BRINGS BOTH FISTS DOWN LIKE A SLEDGEHAMMER ONTO THE METAL WALL JUNCTION BOX—RIPPING THE ARMORED COVER OFF AND TEARING OUT THE FIBER-OPTIC RELAYS IN A MASSIVE SHOWER OF SPARKS.]
[GRAMS: THE THROBBING BASS HUM OF THE DAMPENING FIELD ABRUPTLY CUTS OUT INTO DEAD SILENCE.]
TRAVIS
(Screaming in blinding agony as his unshielded nerve grafts hit full pain)
Aaaaagh!
[SFX: GAN’S HEAVY BOOTS VAULTING THE RAILING AND SPRINTING BACK TOWARD WARD FOUR.]
SCENE 15: INT. CELL 4C / NEURAL EXTRACTION LAB
[SFX: THE VIOLET INDUCTION COILS IN CELL 4C SHORT OUT AND DIE. THE MAGNETIC LOCK ON THE OBSERVATION DOOR RELEASES WITH A LOUD CLACK.]
BLAKE
Gan did it! The field’s down!
[SFX: AVON KICKS THE OBSERVATION DOOR OPEN, STEPPING INTO THE EXTRACTION LAB WITH HIS CLIP-GUN DRAWN.]
VANE
(Calm, unhurried)
Calm, Mr. Avon, calm. I don’t know what you think you’ve achieved here. What are you trying to do?
AVON
We are trying to do two things. He wants to extract Dr. Artix to save the galaxy. I will settle for the information Dr. Artix is holding, which is the key to everything.
VANE
You’re too late for either. The process is irreversible at this point. All you’ve done is make it more painful than it needed to be. Dr. Artix will remember less and less in the next few hours, but you’re laying down new experiences which will cause him to suffer.
BLAKE
(Stepping into the lab, staring dark-eyed at the cortical machinery)
Oh, you know about suffering, Vane, I’m sure you do. It’s the same across the Federation. Calm. Calm! You want everybody calm so they don’t resist when you take over their minds. I’ve seen this equipment before and believe me, I know what it can do.
AVON
(Suddenly interested)
What can it do, Blake?
BLAKE
It doesn’t just make people calm—it can drill into people’s minds, go deep, manipulate and extract whatever they want.
[SFX: AVON STEPS CLOSE, PRESSING THE BARREL OF HIS CLIP-GUN TO VANE’S HEAD.]
AVON
Can it really? How interesting. Tell me more.
VANE
It can, but we don’t use it for that. We use it for peace, for life.
AVON
If you’re so interested in life, you’d better tell us how to get what we want.
VANE
I don’t know.
[SFX: AVON TIGHTENS HIS FINGER ON THE CLIP-GUN TRIGGER CASING.]
VANE
(Quickly clarifying)
No—I don’t know if what you want is still there, if there’s anything left! Dr. Artix can’t bring details to his conscious mind, but the underlying fragments of information are the last things to disappear. You’d have to probe very deeply, and if you do that now, you’ll destroy him.
BLAKE
What fragments might be there?
[SFX: VANE TAPS TWO KEYS, PUNCHING UP A NEURAL GRAPHIC ON THE MONITOR.]
VANE
Almost nothing coherent or complicated, none of his methods and strategies. Maybe a code or two. This is where his last memories of defense work are in his brain, and this area relates to his work on cryptographic vaults.
AVON
Fascinating. We’ll take it.
VANE
Take what?
AVON
His last memories, all of them. You can probe and extract them, can’t you?
(A tense beat as Vane looks to Blake for help—and gets none.)
BLAKE
(Weighing the cost, then steeling himself)
If that’s the best we can do, that’s the best way Artix can help. Let’s save what we can.
VANE
It’s not that simple or quick. In the time it takes me to probe one area, the other will completely dissolve.
AVON
(Smiling broadly)
Ha ha! So we have a choice to make, Blake, and no time to make it. Same as it ever was.
[GRAMS: ACT THREE CLIFFHANGER STING.]
ACT FOUR
SCENE 16: INT. LIBERATOR FLIGHT DECK — CONTINUOUS
[GRAMS: VIOLENT DRIVE RUMBLE AND SHAKING DECK PLATES. OVERLOAD ALARMS FLASHING.]
ZEN
Main drive output at eighty-six percent. Hull stress approaching structural tolerance in sectors three and four.
VILA
(Gripping the table)
Come on, come on, you overpriced heap of plastic! Eighty-six percent! How long does it take to process a “relevant data point”?!
ORAC
(Clicking rapidly)
The calculation is elementary, Vila. The difficulty lies in phrasing the solution so that Zen’s self-preservation programming does not reject your manual input as suicidal.
JENNA
(Shouting over the drive roar)
Never mind Zen’s feelings! Tell me what to do!
ORAC
The Harmonic Sinkhole feeds entirely upon opposing thrust. To collapse the gravimetric web, you must cease resisting it. You must cut main drive power to zero while simultaneously venting a two-second plasma burst through the forward attitude thrusters—accelerating toward the canyon floor.
JENNA
Accelerate into the glacier?! At this altitude, we’ll hit the rock wall in four seconds!
ORAC
Three point eight seconds, to be precise. However, at two point nine seconds, the sudden inversion of kinetic vectors will cause the sinkhole’s harmonic matrix to overload and invert, repelling the vessel upward like a compressed spring.
VILA
“Like a compressed spring”?! And what if it doesn’t bounce?!
ORAC
Then my previous metaphor regarding an eggshell will be validated empirically. You have two minutes and ten seconds before Zen commits the final fourteen percent of reserve power, rendering manual override impossible.
JENNA
After we do this, can we still teleport from the surface?
ORAC
Negative. The manoeuvre will end with the Liberator out of danger and out of teleport range. You should prioritise your resources accordingly.
JENNA
Cally, Orac’s just told us we have two minutes to get Blake, Avon, and Gan from the surface. Can you bring them up?
CALLY
(Flicking comms switch)
I’ll tell Blake.
SCENE 17: INT. FACILITY NINE — NEURAL EXTRACTION LAB
[GRAMS: LOW HUM OF THE EXTRACTION CONSOLE.]
BLAKE
Set the probe for the left hemisphere. The Terran Defense routines. Do it now, Vane!
[SFX: URGENT BEEP OF BLAKE’S COMMUNICATOR BRACELET.]
CALLY
(Over wristband filter)
Blake, we’ve got to bring you up now! The Liberator is in danger and we have to move away.
BLAKE
(Into wrist)
What do you mean “now”—how long have we got?
CALLY
(Over wristband filter)
Less than two minutes!
AVON
Then take the right hemisphere, the money, and do it now.
BLAKE
We haven’t time to argue, Avon!
[SFX: AVON LEVELS HIS CLIP-GUN AT BLAKE.]
AVON
(Cold)
Agreed. So we’re going to take the money and run.
BLAKE
(Shifting into peacemaker mode)
Avon, what…? Vane, have we got time?
VANE
I won’t help you.
AVON
Then I’ll help myself.
[SFX: AVON FLIPS THE SELECTOR SWITCH AND INITIATES THE DEEP-CORTICAL PROBE. HIGH-PITCHED ELECTRONIC SCANNING WHINE. ARTIX LETS OUT A FINAL, QUIET EXHALATION ON THE CRADLE AS THE CRYSTAL SPOOL SPINS AND CHIMES COMPLETE.]
BLAKE
(Into wristband)
Cally, stand by. (Realizing) Where’s Gan?
[SFX: BLAKE STEPS TO THE LAB DOORWAY, LOOKING OUT INTO THE CORRIDOR.]
SCENE 18: INT. FACILITY NINE — MAIN CORRIDOR
[SFX: POUNDING BOOTS AS GAN SPRINTS DOWN THE METAL PASSAGE. HOVER-HUM OF DRONES AND TRAVIS’S LASER BLASTS TEARING INTO WALL PIPING NEAR GAN’S HEAD. CLANG OF A BROKEN LENGTH OF STEEL PIPE FALLING.]
[SFX: GAN SNATCHES UP THE PIPE, CHARGES THROUGH AN ARCHWAY, AND HAULS A MASSIVE SLIDING BLAST DOOR SHUT BY HAND. HE JAMS THE HEAVY STEEL PIPE DEEP INTO THE LOCKING GEAR WHEEL WITH A GRINDING METALLIC CRUNCH. LASER FIRE THuds HARMLESSLY AGAINST THE FAR SIDE AS GAN PELTS UP THE STAIRS.]
SCENE 19: INT. FACILITY NINE — NEURAL EXTRACTION LAB
[SFX: GAN BURSTS INTO THE LAB, GASPING FOR BREATH.]
GAN
Blake! Travis is right behind me—I’ve slowed him down, but he’s coming!
BLAKE
(Dryly)
Good timing, Gan, turns out we’re just leaving. When Avon is ready, of course.
[SFX: AVON PLUCKS THE CRYSTAL SPOOL FROM THE DRIVE SLOT.]
AVON
I’ve got what we need. Let’s go. (Into wristband) Cally, bring us up. Now!
[SFX: TELEPORT DEMATERIALIZATION HUM AND SHIMMER TAKES THEM OUT.]
SCENE 20: INT. LIBERATOR FLIGHT DECK / EXT. GLACIAL TRENCH
[SFX: TELEPORT FADERS SLAMMED HOME OVER VIOLENT HULL VIBRATION.]
CALLY
They’re in the teleport bay! Everybody brace! Jenna—do it!
JENNA
(Slamming both palms on emergency cut-offs)
Hold on to something!
[SFX: THE DEAFENING ROAR OF THE MAIN DRIVES CUTS OUT INTO STOMACH-DROPPING FREE-FALL SILENCE. VILA YELPS. A TWO-SECOND FORWARD THRUSTER BURST ROARS—FOLLOWED BY A MASSIVE VIOLET GRAVIMETRIC DETONATION THAT CATAPULTS THE SHIP UPWARD INTO DEEP SPACE.]
SCENE 21: INT. LIBERATOR FLIGHT DECK — MOMENTS LATER
[GRAMS: NORMAL, STEADY LIBERATOR FLIGHT HUM. FOOTSTEPS AS BLAKE, AVON, AND GAN ENTER THE DECK.]
BLAKE
(Hostile, rounding on Avon)
Well, that was a disaster. Artix is dead, the Terran Defense codes are lost, and as for you, Avon, you’ve finally shown your true colours, haven’t you? You’re here to help. Yourself.
AVON
Blake… Blake, I won’t deny my viewpoint is somewhat self-motivated, but you don’t see it, do you? I did what was needed for you.
BLAKE
How was that? We could have brought down Terran defences, but you chose a bank job!
VILA
(Perking up)
A bank job? Now you’re talking my language. When do we start?
AVON
We’ll need to start now before we leave the system, as I don’t think we’ll get another chance. I extracted the master phase-cipher for the Kallisto Central Depository as the last remaining memory of its architect, Dr. Artix.
CALLY
But you can’t go back down there, Avon! There’s a trap that we only narrowly escaped. We have to stay out of teleport range.
AVON
(Desperate, turning to the dome)
Zen, can the Liberator re-enter teleport range of the planet?
ZEN
Negative.
AVON
Why not?
[SFX: DEAD SILENCE FROM ZEN.]
AVON
Why not?!
ORAC
(Clicking to life)
I can explain. Dr. Artix designed a trap which the Liberator fell into, almost causing the ship’s destruction. Zen cannot implement an order which will result in the loss of the ship, the crew, or itself.
AVON
What kind of a trap?
ORAC
A deceptive, slow trap, one designed not to be noticed until it was too late to escape.
AVON
But you did escape! Why couldn’t you do that again?
ORAC
You could, but Zen cannot allow the attempt. It would be necessary to disable Zen’s safety systems in order to try.
AVON
Can you do that, Orac?
ORAC
Was that an enquiry or an order? Of course I can do that. But based on the events of today, I must insist on clarity. There is some risk involved. Is this what you are ordering?
BLAKE
(Stepping in firmly)
I think I will decide on that, Orac, Avon, if you don’t mind. How is your bank robbery helping anyone but yourself?
AVON
Blake, if we had done it your way, we would have taken a defence code that would have been swapped out by the time we got to use it. This way we get something instead of nothing, now instead of never. And while you might not want to rob a bank, this one has five billion credits in untraceable platinum bullion that can pay for your revolution. Do you know how many ships that buys, Blake?
BLAKE
We won’t be able to buy any if we lose this one.
AVON
It’s a manageable risk, don’t you agree, Orac?
ORAC
In my estimation, the Liberator will only be vulnerable for a short time while Zen’s safety systems are overridden to allow the ship to enter teleport range. I can navigate and reactivate them when we are clear.
AVON
That’s all? It’s not much of a stake to put down for five billion credits, Blake. Think logically, for once, and take the win.
(A beat as Blake weighs it up.)
BLAKE
Alright. Orac, override Zen’s safety systems and bring the Liberator to the edge of teleport range. Don’t take any chances.
[SFX: WEIRD, DESCENDING MECHANICAL WINDING-DOWN NOISE AS ZEN’S DOME POWERS OFF. LOW AMBIENT RED DIAGNOSTIC HUM COMES ON. AVON SETS THE DATA CRYSTAL ON ORAC’S PAD.]
AVON
Orac, use the cipher encoded on this crystal to transmit the cryptographic handshake to the vault on Kallisto-Four and prepare the teleport bay to receive transfer. And don’t forget to steer the ship.
ORAC
I am more than capable of multi-tasking. Handshake initiated. Vault acknowledging cipher. I am receiving data in return. How extraordinary!
[SFX: RAPID, ANGRY ELECTRONIC PULSING FROM THE CRYSTAL.]
ORAC
The data is self-replicating and transmitting itself using my carrier waves, I will work to contain it.
[SFX: ZEN’S DOME HUMS BACK UP IN AN ANGRY DISTORTED CARRIER WAVE. CONSOLES BEGIN SPARKING ACROSS THE BRIDGE.]
JENNA
(Gasping as her console shocks her)
Something’s taking over the ship’s controls, they are locking up!
BLAKE
Zen, report!
ZEN
(Strained)
Information: hostile algorithm encountered, safety protocols ineffective due to manual override. Navigation control—negative. Life support—negative.
AVON
Orac, what’s wrong with Zen?
ORAC
My containment of the self-replicating data stream required temporary use of Zen’s memory banks. It appears that Zen’s ability to control it was inadvertently disabled. On your order.
BLAKE
Zen’s safety protocols—we turned them off and this is what we’re getting? Orac, disengage, contain and get us out of here!
AVON
Did you operate the teleport, Orac?
ORAC
I did not. On closer inspection, the vault did not contain the anticipated payload. I will check Federation records after neutralising the immediate threat.
[SFX: SMALL RELAY EXPLOSIONS POP ACROSS THE FLIGHT DECK CONSOLES. POWER HUM DIMMING.]
VILA
I thought you said you were good at multi-tasking!
ORAC
My resources are fully deployed countering a self-replicating polymorphic logic-bomb. Zen’s self-defence has been compromised so I am devising a bypass.
AVON
Devise quickly.
ZEN
(Warped, slowing down)
Information. Information. In… In…
[SFX: ORAC EMITS A PIERCING HIGH-FREQUENCY ELECTRONIC SHRIEK THROUGH THE BRIDGE SPEAKERS. THE SPARKING AND ALARM CLAXONS FREEZE. THE CRYSTAL SPOOL CRACKS IN HALF WITH A LOUD SNAP. ZEN’S NORMAL STEADY PULSE RETURNS.]
ZEN
(Normal voice, slightly stiff)
Information: Hostile algorithm isolated and purged. (Unusually scolding tone) Safety protocols re-engaged. (Normal neutral tone) All ship systems returning to normal parameters.
VILA
I don’t think I’ve ever heard Zen get annoyed like that.
BLAKE
(Angry)
That really took something, didn’t it, Avon? And what did you manage to take? Nothing.
AVON
It was a calculated risk. Orac, where did we go wrong?
ORAC
On investigation of Federation records, Supreme Commander Servalan extracted the bullion from the Kallisto Reserve six months ago using Dr. Artix’s cipher. The dormant polymorphic logic-bomb was undoubtedly left in its place to destroy anyone initiating withdrawal who lacked this information.
AVON
And why could we not have had this information first?
ORAC
Because nobody requested it.
VILA
And there it is. The machine destroyed by its own logic. I told you we couldn’t trust it.
CALLY
Which machine? Orac’s fine, Zen nearly wasn’t, but is now.
VILA
I wasn’t talking about them. Avon knows who I’m talking about.
[SFX: BLAKE, JENNA, GAN, AND CALLY BREAK INTO LAUGHTER.]
BLAKE
(Controlling his laughter)
That’s enough. Jenna, take us out. Standard by four.
[SFX: LIBERATOR MAIN DRIVE SURGES UP INTO FULL FLIGHT.]
[GRAMS: BLAKE’S 7 CLOSING THEME.]