Planet despotism, p.1
Planet Despotism, page 1
PLANET DESPOTISM
A Screenplay Written by
T.D. WALKER
Copyright ©2014 by T.D. Walker
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review.
This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are all productions of the author's imagination and are used fictiously.
EPUB Edition
EXT. DEEP OUTER SPACE. --NIGHT.
Stars shine across the black canvas of space. And dark sunspots bruise the surface of the sun star and begin to cover the entire sphere. Larger than a galaxy, the star has ceased burning hydrogen into helium for a millennium. The temperature of its molten liquid core has dropped and small gravels of iron have grown and smoldered into boulders within its core. A cluster of iron boulders collide together, forming spheres of iron. The spheres trap in the heat and the buildup of iron stretching across the star begins to strangle it from within.
Nine severely burned planets spiraling the star abruptly stop and instantly two of them collide into each other, bursting into a fiery river of rocks and debris as the other planets are spun into the outer limits of space. Gravity squeezes in on the exterior of the giant sun pulling the scorched planets into it. The inferno of heat and violent solar flares blister from the surface of the star, exploding all nine planets into clouds of dust.
As the sun chokes from within, the death-gripping hands of gravity smother it to death with the thick blanket of space. Unable to fight any longer, the giant star gives up and flares out. Succumbing to death, it explodes in a violent supernova, illuminating every universe in its local group. The blast rips through the fabric of space, carving a jagged tunnel across the cosmos. Though once the size of an entire galaxy, gravity has compacted the sun star into a small planet-sized sphere. The star has been reborn, and every atom of its former life has been compressed into a glowing sphere, a Pulsar. Hidden in a cloud of smoke and methane gas, the Pulsar rotates and squirms violently. Seconds later, an eruption of blinding light, smoke, and gases shoot out from opposite ends of the sphere as it spins aimlessly through the universe.
CUT TO:
EXT. EMPYREAN SOLAR SYSTEM. --NIGHT.
A thousand years after the demise of the star, the explosion leaves a gashing, crooked laceration across the ceiling of the neighboring Empyrean galaxy; home to planet Arcadia. An armada of a thousand spaceships burst through the clouds, rocketing through planet Arcadia's thermosphere and into outerspace.
CUT TO:
EXT/INT. MILITARY COMPOUND. SPACECRAFT. --NIGHT.
MILITARY COMPOUND.
The last spaceship in the fleet steers onto the center of the tarmac. The steel, carbon fiber mammoth ship stands four stories in height. The large windshields in the front of the craft house the cockpit. And at the helms of the craft are two eagle-shaped heads of two robots. They pilot the craft down the clean mile-long tarmac while performing a series of safety tests from the control board on the craft. Their fluorescent green eyes shine through the windshields of the cockpit and they speed up for takeoff.
An army of a thousand robots standing seven feet tall are clamped and buckled into the cargo walls. Soldiers dressed in carbon fiber exoskeleton suits and helmets swarm the cargo area of the craft. Rocket launchers, guns and tools are stowed within hangers in the ceiling. Some of the soldiers are storing weapons into holsters next to their seats and a few are sliding their gear on moving conveyor belts overhead. The hatched doors in the rear of the craft hinge to a shut. A buzzing alarm within the craft alerts them to capsules that move along a conveyor belt in rows of three. Each soldier encloses himself inside the windowed doors of a titanium capsule that fills with a clear liquid gel.
The craft spears down the runway and rockets deep into space, following behind the fleet, approaching a giant steel ring floating within the planet's gravity. The spaceships harpoon through the giant steel ring as trillions of dark matter and dark energy fire from within the punctured holes in the steel ring of the Collider. The collision of matter and energy particles create a storm of electricity that boils space within the circular Collider, creating a black hole. The Collider swallows the entire fleet in rows of three, leaving no trace of their existence on the back side of its steel ring and opened mouth.
CUT TO:
EXT/INT. ARCADIA. SECUNDUS REGION. PYRAMID #3. --NIGHT.
Wind hurls over the top of the cedar trees, massaging through the needles of the branches as the trees sway in the forest. A partial handprint of dried blood smears the cedar bark. Pale colored maggots gather at the root of the tree, crawling around a splintered wooden box of spilled rotten meat. White fuzz covers the spoiled vegetables littering the ground and hundreds of paper bills with insignias and numerical denominations lay trapped under the wooden box. A puddle of blood darkens the soil under the broken pieces of wood and spilled food.
Near the edge of the forest and in between the rows of cedar trees, a large field opens up down a small slope. A community of twenty-four foot tall wooden pyramids sit on raised concrete foundations encircled in a dilapidated iron gate. Rusting tin sheets are bolted on the exterior of the wood, covering the apex of all twelve pyramids. Water spots have faded and stained the chestnut wooden panels and termites have eaten jagged holes through the sides of every pyramid in the Secundus region.
A white sheet coated in mud lies across the back lawn of one of the pyramids, glowing under the soft light of the three moons. The sheet catches a gust of wind, tears from the small stone pinning it down, flying up and over the bloodied dried heels and calves of a body, stiffened by rigor mortis.
PYRAMID.
The half-acre backyard gathers around four wooden steps that carries up the concrete base and veranda of the pyramid onto a thin wooden back door, centered in the middle of the pyramid.
Rajairus opens the back door and looks across the backyard. A tunic covers his slender, athletic six foot one bronze-colored body. Both of his eyes are void of pupils and darkness encompasses every millimeter of his eye sockets as he stares across the lawn. Dark woolen hair covers his head as he walks down the cracked wooden stairs of the pyramid onto the grass. He rubs the stubble in his unshaven beard while approaching the body covered under the fading white sheet. Rajairus stoops down, tucks the legs and head of the deceased male under the sheet and pins the corners of the sheet onto the ground with a few stones.
While crouching over, he stares down at the body. His glossy eyes look up to the night sky as he sniffles then wipes the tears before they leave the corners of his eyes and rushes along the side of the wooden pyramid, toward the front lawn.
Rajairus scats across a road of dirt to a trash bin at the end of the road. Throwing one leg over the bin and the other, he dives in and digs through the large bin filled with soiled papers, trash and debris. He sifts through all four corners of the bin and pulls up empty-handed and sighs in frustration while placing his elbows on the lip of the steel bin in anger. A dead male hidden behind a few withering bushes catches his attention. Rajairus turns from the body then looks straight ahead and through the opened door of a pyramid home. He gazes at the deceased female lying in the doorway, beyond the threshold of the home. His boots scuffle the dirt when he jumps out of the trash bin and walks back to his pyramid.
RAJAIRUS' HOME.
A cord dangling over the beam of the wooden ceiling holds a bulb coated in dirt and oil. An anemic glow lights the room as Narellia wipes the palm of her hand across her tears. She sits up in her bed made of torn clothes and mangled blankets then stares at her three children slumbering next to her.
Rajairus walks through the thin wooden front door. Narellia sits up in the bed in anticipation then looks out into the front room as Rajairus enters the pyramid. He walks across the living room and, upon seeing him, she gasps in disappointment. She falls into the clothing on the bed, covering her mouth to muffles her tears and pain.
Rajairus quietly drags up the spiral staircase as it wraps around a steel pole in the center of the pyramid and up to the second floor he walks.
SECOND FLOOR.
He grazes his hand against the wooden framing, guiding himself down the unfinished hall of the second floor. The sounds of footsteps pacing back and forth echo out of a room as Rajairus walks down the hall and into the small bedroom. His wife, Samair, looks up at his empty hands when he enters the room. Rajairus walks past two robotic legs attached to the hip of a robot. Missing its torso, the robotic legs stutter then steps back and forth, unable to walk across the floor. Samair slides to the edge of the worn mattress in the middle of the floor as Rajairus turns from her in disappointment then walks to the dresser. Her beautiful face, wavy black hair and copper skin glances off of him as he walks away. The sound of small pistons moving in the robotic legs breaks the silence between them at it repetitively steps forward and backwards. Samair looks up at Rajairus then she asks a question, already knowing the answer.
SAMAIR
Did you find anything to eat?
He shakes his head in disappointment while looking down at the shotgun and an ammo belt lying across the dresser. Several rounds of acid filled eighty-caliber bullets are spread across the top of the broken wooden dresser. The sound of the robot legs unnerves him. And Samair maneuvers her tethered dress and preg nant body to the edge of the mattress to speak.....
SAMAIR (CONT'D)
I'll go out with you tomorrow, we can look together.
Rajairus drops his head and swallows her statement bitterly.
RAJAIRUS
I can't let you do that.
SAMAIR
We're in this together and Onesimus will see us through, he'll provide.
Rajairus stares down at the shotgun and his somber mood breaks into anger.
RAJAIRUS
Thinking like that got us here. I have to change this, I have to do something.
He angrily glances at the robotic hips as it moves back and forth then he raises his voice in anger....
RAJAIRUS (CONT'D)
WE CAN'T LIVE LIKE THIS!
In his frustration he grabs the top of the carbon fiber hip and throws it across the room. The legs skid across the wooden floor, sideswiping a large barrel of liquid and bowls over a tool box of diagnostic tools. And crashes into a steel pulley as it holds the robot's head, torso and arms in chains.
Rajairus grabs the shotgun off the dresser, slides the strap over his shoulder and buckles the ammo belt across his waist as Samair worriedly looks at him...
SAMAIR
Don't do this.
He taps the fiberglass window of the slug and the yellow acid fizzles, then he pinches four eighty-caliber slugs into the belt. Fastening the belt around his waist, Rajairus walks to the other side of the room. He picks the wool chlamys off the pulley and throws it over his soiled undershirt. Samair maneuvers her seven-month pregnant body off the mattress. He conceals the shotgun under his chlamys, glances at her, then heads for the door. Samair speaks out while leaning on the dresser.
SAMAIR (CONT'D)
I'd rather starve to death before you hurt someone for me. I won't eat anything you bring back.
Rajairus pauses under the doorway.
SAMAIR (CONT'D)
You found that on your brother's body. And what good did it do him? Stay here for me
He turns back into the room raising his voice....
RAJAIRUS
WE'RE DYING! AND NOBODY CARES! WHAT DO YOU WANT ME TO DO?!
SAMAIR
I want you to trust Onesimus.
RAJAIRUS
THERE IS NO GOD SAMAIR! CAN'T YOU SEE THAT! There is no God.
Rajairus turns and walks toward the door and she pleas with him again.
SAMAIR
My conscious is clear and when I take my last breathe, that's all that matters.
Rajairus massages the veins creasing his forehead as she talks...
I can't stop you, all I ask is that you leave that weapon here. Don't hurt anyone, for me.
His black boots stomp into the room and he lays the shotgun across the floor and walks out. She calls out for him as he thunders down the spiral staircase.
CUT TO:
INT. SECUNDUS REGION. TIN PYRAMID HOME. FIRST FLOOR. --NIGHT.
As the tracks of tears dry on Narellia's sleeping face Rajairus storms past her room and jots out of the back door, down the wooden stairs and out into the backyard.
BACKYARD.
He pulls a loose bar from the dilapidated iron gate, scales over it and into the open field, charging toward the forest.
CUT TO:
INT. STEEL ARMORED BUILDING. UPSTAIRS CORNER ROOM. --NIGHT.
Merizadad's hand twitches nervously as she twirls her fingers around the locks in her curly black hair. She pauses with distressing thoughts, then leans her bronze-colored cheek onto her closed fist while sitting on the edge of the sofa. She opens her peach-colored lips.
MERIZADAD
I don't want to leave here.
Covaniah, a tall stout male whom time has treated well, looks down at her from the doorway. A burgundy silk chlamys and pants cover his copper skin body as he lifts his shoulder off the doorpost. And condescendingly he responds to her while turning to close the door.
COVANIAH
Why not? What's keeping you here?
MERIZADAD
You know the rules, leave it open.
He opens the door and for a few seconds he quizzically stares at the room across the hall. The closed door catches his attention but he digresses when she speaks.
MERIZADAD (CONT'D)
This is my home.
Merizadad uncrosses her long legs then rises from the sofa dressed in black babydoll lingerie and high heels. Her curvaceous body waltzes past the mirror and dresser to her vanity desk. She grabs the satin robe draped on the back of the chair, then flings it over her body.
COVANIAH
YOU'D RATHER LIVE IN THIS FILTH THAN BE WITH ME?
MERIZADAD
Yes.
Offended by her quick response, he looks upon her angrily.
CUT TO:
INT. STEEL ARMORED BUILDING. DOWNSTAIRS LOBBY AREA. --NIGHT.
Kyros, a strawy male, is knelt on one knee near the back wall of the lobby with a row of gold dinavion coins stacked on the linoleum floor. A bunch of old, wrinkled twenty and fifty thousand rodell bills are pinned under his knee as well. A smirk widens Kyros' narrow face as he shakes his slightly closed fist to irritate the fuming soldier squatting across from him. Pvt. Vestor is machined-drilled into the nameplate on the front of his carbon fiber suit. He glares angrily at Kyros while holding two fifty-thousand rodell bills in his hand. He sighs in disbelief after Kyros tosses the two multi-colored cubes across the linoleum floor. The red, black and white cubes land face-up on two black squares. Kyros looks at a deflated Vestor and yells.
KYROS
I WIN AGAIN!
Kyros marks a fifth slash on the floor with a digital pen. Vestor sticks out his hand, holding a single rodell bill and Kyros snatches the bill. The soldier drops on one knee, creasing his last bill in between his fingers while bristling quietly in anger at himself. Kyros quickly picks up the cubes to hand them to Vestor.
PVT. VESTOR
Don't ever pick up them up when it's my turn.
Kyros sets the cubes on the floor with a smile on his face. Vestor picks up the cubes and rolls them onto the floor. Both dice land on two black squares, but Vestor can't celebrate the win as Kyros hurriedly speaks up.
KYROS
One of them hit the wall, you have to roll that over.
A frustrated Vestor picks up the cubes while he's talking, then rolls the cubes again. Both cubes land face-up on red squares and he gripes. Leaping from the floor in anger, he tosses down his last fifty-thousand rodell bill.
PVT. VESTOR
I'll be right back.
Kyros stands to his feet to talk to Vestor face to face.
KYROS
This is over. THAT'S IT! YOU'RE BROKE! I BROKE YOU!
PVT. VESTOR
When we started this, we said ten tosses right?
Kyros nods in agreement, then harshly adds...
KYROS
But you're broke now.
Vestor bites his bottom lip in anger before he speaks.
PVT. VESTOR
I got five more tosses and so do you. We're playing this one out so don't go anywhere.
KYROS
I'm not, I work here. I'll be right here.
HAZAMAVETH
Kyros!! Kyros!!! I need you to take out the trash.
Hazamaveth shouts across the beautifully furnished lobby while standing behind a mahogany concierge desk clothed in a dark-colored tunic and wool kuttoneth. Hazamaveth strolls the trash can out from under the desk as Kyros raises his hand in acknowledgement, then Hazamaveth walks to the bathroom.
Vestor gawks at the back of Kyros as he passes by. Then he turns and walks to another soldier, Private Lacerta, who is sitting on the couch. Two machine guns are leaned up against the side of the couch as Private Lacerta rubs his hand down the back of a scantily clad female. Private Lacerta jokingly whispers in her ear as she sits on his knee, enamored in laughter. Vestor approaches and grabs her by her elbow, lifting her up.
PVT. VESTOR
Can you leave?
Sargent said don't mingle with them.
She looks at Lacerta.
PVT. LACERTA
