PASSENGERS

by

Jon Spaihts
May 1, 2013
FADE IN:

EXT. INTERSTELLAR SPACE

A million suns shine in the dark.

A STARSHIP cuts through the night: a gleaming white cruiser.

Galleries of windows. Flying decks and observation domes.

On the hull: EXCELSIOR - A Homestead Company Starship.

The ship flashes through a nebula. Space-dust sparkles as it

whips over the hull, betraying the ship’s dizzying speed.

The nebula boils in the ship’s wake. The Excelsior rockets

on, spotless and beautiful as a daydream.

INT. STARSHIP EXCELSIOR - GRAND CONCOURSE

A wide plaza. A lofty atrium cuts through seven decks,

creating tiers of promenades framing a vast skylight. Outside
the skylight, only stars. Deep space.

The promenades are empty. Chairs unoccupied. Beetle-like

robots vacuum the carpets and wax the floors.

CAFETERIA

Super-modern and gleaming. Hundreds of tables, all empty.

FORWARD OBSERVATION DECK

Lounge furniture and star-filled windows. Completely

deserted. A robot on spindly legs washes the glass.

INT. STARSHIP EXCELSIOR - HIBERNATION BAY

Endless rows of vertical glass tubes. Inside each tube stands

a PASSENGER. Eyes closed in sleep. If they’re breathing you
can’t tell by looking.

They sleep on their feet, leaning against padded supports.

Straps secure them in place; sensors adhere to their skin.
They wear shorts and tank tops with Homestead Company logos.

We drift down a row, surveying faces. No children, no elders.

Men and women of all races in the prime of their lives.

We settle on JIM PRESTON, 38. A display on his pod reads:

JAMES PRESTON
Rate 2 Mechanical Engineer
Denver, Colorado

A deep BOOM.
 2.

Echoes roll down the corridors. The starship SHUDDERS. The

wires trailing from Jim’s sensors tremble and lie still.

Lights wink on in Jim’s hibernation pod. Machinery hums to

life. Instruments beep and chitter.

Medical data fills the pod’s screen. Jim’s temperature rises.

His heart begins to beat. He takes a breath.

Jim opens his eyes. Groggy, blinking, seeing nothing.

The backrest behind him converts into a recliner, lowering

him into a seated position. The sensors on his skin drop off
and snake back into the pod’s machinery.

A HOLOGRAPHIC DISPLAY appears before Jim’s eyes, filling the

space in front of him. The Homestead Company’s logo shines at
him. The Homestead Company’s theme music plays.

IN HOLOGRAM - A gorgeous stewardess appears, smiling

sensually. She is inhumanly perfect: computer-generated.

VIDEO STEWARDESS
Good Morning, James!

JIM
(disoriented)
Jim. What the...

VIDEO STEWARDESS
It’s normal to feel confused, Jim.
You’ve just spent a hundred and
twenty years in suspended animation.

She makes it sound sexy. Jim scowls and rubs his eyes.

ONSCREEN - An animation. Happy people go to sleep in glass

tubes in a hospital. The tubes are loaded onto a spaceship.

VIDEO STEWARDESS (CONT’D)

You’re a passenger on the Starship
Excelsior - a Homestead Company
Starship. We’ve nearly completed the
120-year flight from Earth to your
new home - the colony world of
Homestead II. Congratulations!

ONSCREEN - The Excelsior leaves a skyscraper-covered Earth

and soars through space to a lush green Homestead II.

JIM
Oh. Yeah.
 3.

VIDEO STEWARDESS
The Excelsior is on final approach.
(sensually)
For the next two months you’ll enjoy
luxury space travel. Food. Fun. New
friends.

ONSCREEN - The ship’s lavish amenities: fine dining, sports

facilities, shops, all swarming with happy passengers.

VIDEO STEWARDESS (CONT’D)

Then you’ll start your new life on
Homestead II. Back to basics. A fresh
start. Room to grow.

ONSCREEN - Publicity shots of Homestead II. Mountains,

forests, beaches. Settlements ringed by farmland.

VIDEO STEWARDESS (CONT’D)

Your wake-up capsules and nutrient
juice will help you recover from
hibernation!

Pills rattle into a dish; a glass of pink juice appears. He

takes his pills and gulps his juice with a grimace.

A slot disgorges a Homestead Company bathrobe and slippers.

VIDEO STEWARDESS (CONT’D)

Make yourself comfortable in your
complimentary robe and slippers.

He puts them on.

VIDEO STEWARDESS (CONT’D)

Your shipcard is your key to the
starship.
(flirtatiously)
Don’t lose it!

The pod produces Jim’s shipcard: a plastic ID card on a

lanyard. He hangs it around his neck.

VIDEO STEWARDESS (CONT’D)

Now you’re ready to go to your cabin.
Make yourself at home! Enjoy the rest
of your voyage, Jim!

JIM
Right.

Jim steps out of his pod. All the other pods are closed, the
people inside asleep.
 4.

VIDEO STEWARDESS
Your cabin is this way.

The holographic stewardess points down the corridor.

VIDEO STEWARDESS (CONT’D)

Take Elevator D to deck seven. Your
cabin number is on your shipcard.

JIM
Thanks.

He shuffles down the corridor in his slippers, rubbing his

face. Having trouble keeping his eyes open.

Behind him, his pod closes up. Its screen reads PASSENGER
DISCHARGED.

CORRIDOR

A corridor lined with doors. A CLEANING ROBOT vacuums.

Jim emerges from an elevator. Instantly the corridor lights

brighten. The cleaning robot rolls past Jim.

CLEANING ROBOT
Hello, Passenger.

JIM
(startled)
Hello, robot.

Jim follows wall markings to his cabin. Lets himself in.

JIM’S CABIN

Cozy but small. A bed, a desk, an armchair. No window.

A SCREEN lights up. The Homestead Company theme music plays.

An ANNOUNCER speaks.

ANNOUNCER (V.O.)
Welcome to your cabin, Jim! Your home
until we make landfall.

Jim doesn’t pay attention. Pokes around, opening drawers.

ANNOUNCER (V.O.)
Over the next two months, you’ll
prepare for your new life on
Homestead II.

Jim peers into the tiny bathroom. There’s a little video

screen, and the presentation’s running there too.
 5.

ANNOUNCER (V.O.)
Passengers are organized into
Learning Groups for orientation.
You’ve been assigned to Learning
group...thirty-eight! Don’t forget!

The DOORBELL rings.

Jim opens the door eagerly - and deflates. No one there.

He looks down. A waist-high CARGO ROBOT peers up at him with

goggle eyes. It carries two suitcases and a duffel bag.

CARGO ROBOT
Passenger James Preston?

JIM
Jim. Yeah.

CARGO ROBOT
Your luggage, Passenger Jim. Swipe
your shipcard to confirm.

Jim swipes his shipcard through a slot on top of the robot.

The robot scoots inside and deposits Jim’s bags on the floor.

CARGO ROBOT (CONT’D)

Enjoy your luggage!

JIM
Thanks.

CARGO ROBOT
Thank you, Passenger Jim!

The robot zips out the door.

Jim looks up and down the corridor. The receding robot is the
only sign of life.

CONCOURSE

A mall with tiled floors and ornate storefronts.

Jim walks along in jeans and a T-shirt. Storefront signs

flicker to life as he passes. A dry fountain gushes water.

CONFERENCE ROOM

Forty chairs around a large table.

Jim walks in. The door slides closed behind him.

A HOLOGRAPHIC INSTRUCTOR appears on a large screen at the

head of the table: a handsome woman of middle age.
 6.

INSTRUCTOR
Hello, Passengers. Will you all
please take a seat.

Jim looks around. He’s the only one there. He sits.

INSTRUCTOR (CONT’D)
Earth is a prosperous planet. The
cradle of civilization. But for many,
it’s also overpopulated. Over-priced.
Overrated. Overrun.

A holographic cityscape rises out of the conference table:

the endless metropolis of Earth, glittering with traffic.

JIM
Can I just...

INSTRUCTOR
Hold your questions until the end,
please.

JIM
Wait. Where are all the...

The holographic image transforms into a stunning green

landscape of mountains, beaches, forests.

INSTRUCTOR
The Colonies offer an alternative. A
better way of life. And there’s no
colony more beautiful than Homestead
II: the Jewel of the Occupied Worlds.

JIM
(shouting)
Where is everybody?

The Instructor pauses, jolted from her oratory. The question

seems to confuse her. She recovers with a warm smile.

INSTRUCTOR
We’re all on the Starship Excelsior.
Five thousand passengers and fifty-
eight crew members.

JIM
But I’m the only one awake.

INSTRUCTOR
No, all the passengers wake up at the
same time.

JIM
So why am I alone?
 7.

INSTRUCTOR
You’re not alone. We’re all in this
together.

Jim stares at the holographic Instructor suspiciously.

JIM
How many people are in this room?

A crackle of static runs over the Instructor.

INSTRUCTOR
(dazzling smile)
Sorry. I don’t understand your
question.

But Jim is gone. His empty swivel chair spins in his wake.

GRAND CONCOURSE

A vast space: tiled walkways, polished floors, cunning

arrangements of cafe tables and cozy conversation pits.

Jim walks across the Concourse, eyes searching. Stops.

He sees a smooth chrome kiosk. Holographic text hangs in the

air above it: INFOMAT - Ask me a question!

JIM
Hey.

The holographic text bursts into a flock of colorful question

marks. An insanely cheerful voice speaks.

INFOMAT
Hello! What’s your question?

JIM
I need to talk to a person. A real
live person.

INFOMAT
What sort of person? Personal
trainer? Travel planner? Therapist?

A stylized cartoon accompanies each option.

JIM
Someone in charge.

INFOMAT
The Ship Steward handles passenger
affairs. You can find him in his
office on the Service Deck.
 8.

A holographic map of the starship appears. A dotted line

shows the way to the Ship Steward’s Office.

JIM
Thank you.

INFOMAT
Happy to help!

CORRIDOR

A businesslike hallway lined with doors. Jim finds a door

marked SHIP STEWARD.

SHIP STEWARD’S OFFICE

The lights flash on as Jim enters, revealing...an office in

mothballs. Empty chairs, barren desks.

JIM
Not good.

GRAND CONCOURSE

Another Infomat. Jim arrives at a jog. Slaps the kiosk.

INFOMAT
Hello! What’s your quest...

JIM
Who’s flying the ship?

INFOMAT
The bridge crew includes the Captain,
the Pilot, the Chief Navigator...

IN HOLOGRAM: An image of each officer appears in turn.

JIM
The Captain. I want to talk to the
Captain.

INFOMAT
The Captain rarely handles passenger
queries directly.

JIM
Emergency, okay? Where is he?

INFOMAT
The Captain is usually found on the
Bridge, on the Command Deck.

A helpful map shows the way.

 9.

COMMAND DECK

Jim finds the door to the Bridge. He opens it eagerly - only

to find a second door behind it - an armored hatch labeled
FIREWALL and SECURE ACCESS AREA.

A porthole of thick glass gives a narrow view of the Bridge.

It’s deserted. Instrument lights gleam in the dark.

JIM
(pounding on the hatch)
Come on! What the hell?!

GRAND CONCOURSE

Jim runs past restaurants, lounges, shops. All deserted.

JIM
Hello? Hello!

GRAND CONCOURSE - CELESTIAL PROMENADE

The highest promenade on the ship: windows on all sides. The

huge skylight just overhead. It’s almost like being outside.

The atrium plunges seven stories to the Concourse below.

JIM
(an echoing shout)
Hello!

A SOUND behind him makes him spin. But it’s just a window-
washer: a robot with long spindly limbs, polishing windows.

GRAND CONCOURSE - OBSERVATORY ENTRANCE

Jim disappears into a doorway marked “OBSERVATORY - Your

Place In the Universe.”

OBSERVATORY

A seamless hologram offers an idealized representation of

deep space. Jim walks in, his footfalls muted. He seems to
hang in the void. Overcome with wonder.

JIM
Hello?

OBSERVATORY
(a voice as deep as God’s)
What can I show you?

JIM
We’re supposed to land soon, but I’m
the only one awake. Is that normal?
 10.

OBSERVATORY
I don’t understand. What can I show
you?

JIM
Show me Homestead II.

The stars wheel and zoom around Jim, until a blue-green

Earthlike planet hovers in front of him.

OBSERVATORY
Homestead II is the fourth planet in
the Bhakti system.

JIM
Right. And where are we?

A golden thread stretches away from Homestead II, across the

universe...to another blue green world: Earth. Jim walks
along the golden thread until he finds the Starship
Excelsior: much closer to Earth than to Homestead II.

OBSERVATORY
We are in transit from Earth to
Homestead II. We will arrive in
approximately ninety years.

JIM
What?

OBSERVATORY
We land on Homestead II in ninety
years, three weeks, and one day.

JIM
No. How long ago did we leave Earth?

OBSERVATORY
Approximately thirty years ago.

Jim stares at the hologram in horrified realization.

JIM
I woke up too soon.

OBSERVATORY
I don’t understand.

JIM
Neither do I.

HIBERNATION BAY

Jim sprints down a row of hibernation pods. Heart pounding.

Slides to a stop in front of his empty pod.
 11.

Jim fusses with the controls, pressing buttons. But the

screen just reads “PASSENGER DISCHARGED.”

Crouching, he pulls at the pod’s canopy. It doesn’t budge.

JIM
I’m supposed to be in there!

GRAND CONCOURSE - INFOMAT

Jim stands at another Infomat.

JIM
How do I make a phone call?

INFOMAT
Your cabin telephone...

JIM
No. How do I send a message to Earth?

INFOMAT
Interstellar messages are sent by
laser array. Speak to the Duty
Officer in the Comm Center.

IN HOLOGRAM: The Infomat displays a helpful map.

INFOMAT (CONT’D)
Please note that interstellar
messaging is an expensive service.

JIM
Bite me.

INFOMAT
Happy to help!

GRAND CONCOURSE - COMMUNICATIONS CENTER

Two communications booths for passenger use. Jim sits at one

of these. Swipes his shipcard.

COMMUNICATIONS BOOTH
Planet and connection?

JIM
Earth. The Homestead Company.

COMMUNICATIONS BOOTH
There are thirty thousand, eight
hundred twenty-six phone numbers
listed under “Homestead Company.”
What number?
 12.

JIM
I don’t know. I’m emigrating to
Homestead II. I have an emergency.

COMMUNICATIONS BOOTH
Division of Colonial Affairs,
Homestead II Program. I have a
Customer Help Line.

JIM
Sounds about right.

The booth’s camera zooms in on Jim’s face. A microphone

extends toward his mouth. The red RECORDING light comes on.

COMMUNICATIONS BOOTH
Begin message.

Jim’s a deer in the headlights. He collects himself.

JIM
Hi. I’m Jim Preston. I’m a passenger.
On the Excelsior...I, uh, I think...
something went wrong with my
hibernation pod. I woke up too soon.
I mean WAY too soon. And I can’t get
back to sleep. And there’s nobody
else here, nobody’s awake.
(with growing panic)
The thing is, there’s ninety years to
go. And at this rate I’ll...
(takes a deep breath)
I’m sorry. I...I’m trying to fix
this. Maybe I missed something. I
don’t know. I just...I could use a
hand. Thanks.

Jim pushes the “SEND” button. Sits back in his chair.

COMMUNICATIONS BOOTH
Message sent.

JIM
Outstanding.

COMMUNICATIONS BOOTH
Message will arrive in nineteen
years.

JIM
Say what?

COMMUNICATIONS BOOTH
Earliest reply in fifty-five years.
 13.

JIM
No.

COMMUNICATIONS BOOTH
We are nineteen light years from
Earth. By the time your message
arrives, we will be thirty-six light-
years from Earth. We apologize for
the delay.

JIM
Fifty-five years!

COMMUNICATIONS BOOTH
That will be six thousand twelve
dollars.

GRAND CONCOURSE

Jim crosses the Concourse like a sleepwalker. Shell-shocked.

He comes to the Concourse Bar: the fanciest watering hole on

the ship. Black leather stools along a marble bartop.

Behind the bar stands a handsome fellow in a bartender’s

uniform - his hair and skin eerily perfect. This is ARTHUR.

Arthur sets a glass on the bar. At the sound, Jim spins.

Gasps at the sight of a human face. He approaches the bar.

JIM
I thought I was the only one awake!

ARTHUR
It’s the middle of the afternoon.
What can I get you?

JIM
Whiskey, neat.

ARTHUR
Coming up.

Arthur pours. Jim knocks the drink back. Points into the
empty glass while his eyes water. Arthur pours another.

Jim sighs in profound relief.

JIM
Man. I thought I was in trouble. So
how come there’s nobody else around?

He sets his glass down carelessly, spilling whiskey.

 14.

ARTHUR
Can’t say.

In an astonishing movement, Arthur glides the length of the

bar as if on roller skates. Scoops up a bar towel and glides
back, mopping up Jim’s spill.

Jim watches this wide-eyed. He steps up on the footrail and

peers behind the bar. Arthur’s body stops at the waist. He’s
mounted on rails: built into the bar.

JIM
(deflated)
You’re a robot.

ARTHUR
Android, technically. Arthur’s the
name.

He shakes Jim’s hand formally.

JIM
I’m Jim.

ARTHUR
Pleased to meet you, Jim.

JIM
Arthur, how much do you know about
the ship?

ARTHUR
I don’t know. I know some things.

JIM
What do I do if my hibernation pod
malfunctions?

ARTHUR
Impossible. Hibernation pods are fail-
safe.

JIM
Yeah, well, I woke up early.

ARTHUR
Can’t happen.

JIM
(a challenge)
How long until we get to Homestead
II?

ARTHUR
Ninety years or so.
 15.

JIM
And when are all of us passengers
supposed to wake up?

ARTHUR
Not until the last two months.

JIM
So how can I be sitting here with
ninety years to go?

Arthur’s eyes take on a faraway look. His head twitches.

ARTHUR
It’s not possible for you to be here.

He smiles as if he’s solved the problem.

JIM
But I am.

ARTHUR
Sorry, Jim. My specialty is cocktails
and conversation. Take your trick
questions to one of those Infomats.
They think they know everything.

JIM
Arthur, I’m screwed. I am completely,
ridiculously screwed.

ARTHUR
Come on, now. Every cloud has a
silver lining.

JIM
Silver lining? I’m going to die of
old age on this ship!

ARTHUR
We all die. Even androids end up on
the scrap heap. It’s not dying that
matters, it’s living. This is your
life. Are you going to live it or lie
down and die?

Jim shakes his head in surrender.

JIM
What do I owe you?

ARTHUR
Jim, the booze is on the house.
 16.

FORWARD OBSERVATION DECK - NIGHT

Jim stands in a moody lounge with panoramic windows onto the

cold, magnificent vista of outer space.

The stars shine in multitudes unseen on Earth. The Milky Way

pours through it all like a river of light. Dead ahead of the
Excelsior, the stars are blue-shifted by the ship’s
incredible speed. It’s beautiful and fearfully vast.

INT. JIM’S CABIN - MORNING

Jim wakes up and rolls out of bed. Shuffles into the shower.

CAFETERIA

Machines offer food and drink in dizzying variety. Each

machine has a card slot and a screen displaying its menu.

Jim enters, dressed in his own clothes - jeans, a T-shirt.

He swipes his shipcard at a coffee machine. It offers sixteen

kinds of coffee, from a simple cup of joe to the “Mocha
Cappuccino Extreme.” Jim picks the best of the lot.

COFFEE MACHINE
Sorry. The Mocha Cappuccino Extreme is
reserved for gold-class passengers.

Jim frowns and punches the button again.

COFFEE MACHINE (CONT’D)

Sorry. The Mocha Cappuccino Extreme is
reserved for gold...

JIM
I want the Extreme. Bill my room.

COFFEE MACHINE
Food can be purchased in the ship’s
specialty restaurants. But food in
the Cafeteria is free.

Jim presses the next button over.

COFFEE MACHINE (CONT’D)

Sorry. The French Roast Deluxe is
reserved for gold-class...

Jim presses one button after another.

COFFEE MACHINE (CONT’D)

Sorry...sorr...so...Large coffee.

The machine dispenses a large coffee.

 17.

JIM
Are you serious?

COFFEE MACHINE
Please enjoy.

SHIP STEWARD’S OFFICE

Jim enters with his coffee. Prowls the office, opening

drawers and cabinets.

He finds a locker marked EMERGENCY GEAR and opens it eagerly.

It holds oxygen tanks; fire extinguishers, an axe, an epoxy
foamer for atmosphere leaks.

He opens another door marked EMERGENCY MANUALS - and smiles:

shelf after shelf of waterproof, fireproof technical manuals.

Jim pulls a manual labeled HIBERNATION SYSTEMS.

PASSENGER CARGO STOWAGE - DAY

A cavernous cargo hold. Jim drives a forklift down the aisle,

scanning container numbers.

He finds a container labeled “PASSENGER #1498, JAMES

PRESTON.” The forklift pulls it from the rack.

THE CARGO CONTAINER

Opens to reveal Jim’s belongings. Cartons with labels like

“winter clothes” and “kitchen stuff.”

Amidst the cartons, a heavy-duty toolbox. Jim hauls it out.

HIBERNATION BAY

Jim sits in front of his empty hibernation pod. His toolbox

beside him. The Hibernation Systems manual lies open. Jim
tinkers with the electronics inside his pod.

The pod hums to life. Its data screen flickers with

information. Mysterious WHIRS and THUNKS.

The canopy opens.

Elated, Jim bounces to his feet. Strips off his shirt and
scrambles in. The canopy closes over him. He assumes the
position, his back against the backrest, waiting for the pod
to put him to sleep.

Nothing happens. He pokes at the ports where the sensors and

intravenous lines used to protrude. Shakes the machine.

He gives up. It’s not working.

 18.

But now he’s trapped inside the pod.

He pushes at the canopy, but it’s locked shut. He pounds on

the glass with no effect.

Finally he loses it, shouting and stamping, hammering and

raging. His voice is totally inaudible - the impacts of his
fist reduced to quiet thuds.

Despairing, he sinks to the floor of the pod, staring out at

his tools. He’s going to die in this glass prison.

Then he notices the emergency release handle down by the

floor. He pulls it, and the canopy pops open.

The pod’s display screen blinks back to its original message.

PASSENGER DISCHARGED.

CREW HIBERNATION FACILITY DOOR

Jim looks through the porthole at the sleeping crew. Swipes

his shipcard through the door switch. ACCESS DENIED. He pokes
at the keypad. ACCESS DENIED.

Jim opens his toolbox, selects a tool. Starts to remove the

keypad’s cover plate.

FADE TO BLACK.

SUPER: THREE WEEKS LATER

INT. CREW HIBERNATION FACILITY DOOR - MORNING

Jim works on the door with an industrial LASER CUTTER,

wearing dark welding goggles. Sparks fly. He’s drenched in
sweat. Mussed and unshaven.

He lifts the goggles and inspects the door. The laser cutter
has barely marked the surface.

The door’s a mess. Its switch hangs on wires. There are pry
marks around the latch. Gouges around the window. Failed
drill holes. Dents left by an axe.

But the door stands firm.

Jim lets the laser cutter fall. It joins a scrapyard of tools

on the floor: sledgehammer, jackhammer, drill, crowbar, axe.

CONCOURSE BAR - DAY

Arthur polishes glasses behind the bar. Jim sits, sweaty and
grimy, a whiskey in front of him.

His speech is soft around the edges. He’s had a few.

 19.

JIM
I thought I’d figure something out. I
thought it would just come to me.

ARTHUR
Good things come to those who wait,
they say.

JIM
But I’ve tried everything.

ARTHUR
Sometimes you can’t catch a break.

Jim gives Arthur a thoughtful look.

JIM
I’m your only customer, but you’re
always polishing a glass.

ARTHUR
Trick of the trade. Makes people
nervous when a bartender just stands
there.

JIM
Okay. Lay some bartender wisdom on
me. I’m lost in space here.

Arthur polishes the bar while he thinks that one over.

ARTHUR
You’re not where you want to be. You
feel like you’re supposed to be
somewhere else. Right?

JIM
You said it.

ARTHUR
Well, here’s the thing. Say you could
snap your fingers and be wherever you
wanted to be. Back on Earth, or on
Homestead II.

JIM
Okay.

ARTHUR
I’ll bet even if you got your wish,
you’d still feel this way. Not in the
right place. Supposed to be somewhere
else. That’s not a crisis, it’s the
human condition.
 20.

Jim takes a moment to consider that.

JIM
That’s not me.

ARTHUR
Well, maybe not. The point is, you
can’t get so wrapped up in where
you’d rather be that you forget to
make the most of where you are.

JIM
What are you telling me?

ARTHUR
It’s a big ship. You’re always
running around banging on things and
yelling at the robots. Take a break.
Live a little.

Jim spins on his barstool, surveying the Grand Concourse.

JIM
Live a little.

When he comes back around he gives a shove. He spins faster.

ARTHUR
That’s the spirit.

Jim goes for one more shove. Misses. Falls off his stool.

GRAND CONCOURSE - INFOMAT

Jim scans a map of the ship. Second-class cabins. First-class

cabins. And the good stuff: palatial suites named for
European cities.

His finger stops on one of the biggest. The Berlin Suite.

BERLIN SUITE

High ceilings, posh furniture, panoramic windows.

The door jumps in its frame with a THUNK. Slides open. Jim
enters, a crowbar in hand.

A cargo robot follows him in, carrying his toolbox and

suitcases. It deposits them on the floor.

CARGO ROBOT
The Berlin Suite! Enjoy your luggage!
 21.

BERLIN SUITE - BEDROOM

Jim unpacks. Stowing clothes, laying out his things.

On the bedside table, an electronic book: “Out of This World:

A Colonists’s Guide to Starting Over.”

He pulls a pair of sneakers out of his luggage.

DECK TWO - GYMNASIUM - BASKETBALL COURT

Jim shoots baskets in sneakers and gym clothes. He makes a

shot from the foul line.

The ball bounces right back to him. He shoots again and

misses. Again the ball returns: sits bouncing at his feet.

Smart ball.

He picks it up, backs up to the three-point line and hits his

shot. He’s not bad.

BERLIN SUITE - BATH

Jim cleans up in the opulent bathtub. A robot arm with a

water jet washes his back.

MARCELLO’S - DAY

The Italian restaurant. Red checked tablecloths, vintage

posters, candles in wicker-wrapped wine bottles.

Jim sits at a table in a button-down shirt and tie. Peruses a

menu. A robotic waiter rolls up in a beret and apron.

WAITER
(Italian accent)
What do you desire, sir?

JIM
I’ll have the rigatoni alla diabla,
with the sauteed spinach and a glass
of the...Montepulciano.

WAITER
Va bene!

The waiter rolls off. Jim looks around at the empty tables.

GRAND CONCOURSE - ARCADE - EVENING

A state-of-the-art game room. Jim inspects the flagship game:

“Z Factor!” A huge holographic display, a futuristic cockpit.

Jim swipes his shipcard. The game speaks like an angry giant.
 22.

Z FACTOR
Jim Preston! Welcome to the greatest
challenge you will ever know!

JIM
All right then.

He clambers into the cockpit.

Z FACTOR
Are you ready to play Z Factor?

JIM
Sure.

Z FACTOR
(snarling)
Are you ready to play Z Factor?!

JIM
(heartily)
Yes!

Z FACTOR
(a roar)
Begin!

Colored lights play over Jim’s face as the display lights up

with images we do not see. Jim works the complex controls:
pressing foot pedals, slashing in the air with handsets.

Explosions roar. Red light bathes the room.

Z FACTOR (CONT’D)
You lose! Z Factor reigns supreme!

The game howls with demonic laughter.

MOVIE THEATER - EVENING

Art deco. Seats for a thousand. Jim enters. Looks around.

MOVIE THEATER - CONTROL BOOTH

Jim scrolls through a dizzying list of available films on a

terminal. Makes a selection.

MOVIE THEATER

The screen shines as the movie starts. Jim arrives at a jog.

Settles into a seat. Smiles as the light plays over his face.

FADE TO BLACK.

SUPER: THREE MONTHS LATER

 23.

GRAND CONCOURSE - ARCADE - DAY

Flashes of light blaze across Jim’s face. He’s playing “Z

Factor!” He’s on fire. A fusillade of sound shakes the room.

Jim moves like a martial artist, dripping sweat. The controls

like part of his body, the gameplay second nature.

A final thundering cannonade! A symphonic flourish! Golden

light shines from the game machine.

Z-FACTOR
You are victorious!

JIM
Yes!

Z-FACTOR
You are the Grand Master of Z Factor!

JIM
(elated)
I am the Grand Master of Z Factor!

GYMNASIUM - BASKETBALL COURT

Jim shoots a basket from half court. Perfect. Obedient as a

dog, the ball bounces back to him, sits bouncing at his feet.

Jim stares at the tapping ball. Gives it a kick. It arcs

away. Comes bouncing back.

He scoops up the ball and hurls it. It bounces off two walls.
Comes bouncing back. But Jim’s gone. The court is empty. The
ball bounces to a halt and sits still.

BELLA CANTINA - AFTERNOON

The ship’s Mexican restaurant. Identical to the Italian

restaurant but with gaudy tablecloths, cactus centerpieces.
The robot waiters wear sombreros.

Jim sits over the wreckage of his lunch. He downs a margarita

and puts the empty glass down beside several others.

JIM
Another margarita!

MEXICAN ROBOT WAITER

You have had many, senor.

JIM
(drunkenly)
Margarita otra vez!
 24.

MEXICAN ROBOT WAITER

Sí, senor.

LIBRARY - MORNING

A room full of workstations, each with a reading machine. Jim

sits at one in a headset, taking a Russian Language course.

RUSSIAN TEACHER (FILTERED)

This is the Gudonov Russian Language
Course. Level One. Let’s begin.
Repeat after me.
(in Russian)
[I am beginning to learn.]

JIM
(in Russian)
[I am beginning to learn.]

RUSSIAN TEACHER (FILTERED)

I am beginning to learn.

JIM
I am beginning to learn.

CONCOURSE BAR - EVENING

Jim sits drinking. Three glasses in front of him. Drunk.

JIM
(in bad Russian, subtitled)
[I be study the Russian.]

ARTHUR
(in perfect Russian, subtitled)
[Good for you, my friend! It’s a
beautiful language.]

JIM
You speak Russian!

ARTHUR
We have Russian passengers.

JIM
Well, I’m trying new things. From now
on, every time I sit down, I want a
drink I haven’t had before.

ARTHUR
Fair enough.

Arthur mixes a bright green drink, sets it in front of Jim.

Jim takes a sip and makes a horrible face.
 25.

JIM
What’s that?

ARTHUR
Something new.

FADE TO BLACK.

SUPER: THREE MONTHS LATER

INT. BERLIN SUITE - BEDROOM - MORNING

Jim sleeps in his luxurious bed. The covers knotted around

him. He hasn’t shaved in weeks.

His eyes open. He lies staring at the ceiling.

After a long moment he gets up. Shuffles toward the bathroom

in his underwear.

CAFETERIA - MORNING

Jim walks past empty tables. Dials up a coffee and a danish.

Sits eating, alone, among hundreds of empty tables.

GRAND CONCOURSE - ARCADE ENTRANCE - DAY

Flashes and blasts of noise. The sounds of Z Factor!

Z FACTOR (O.S.)
You are victorious!

AT THE Z-FACTOR MACHINE

Jim sits blank-faced in the cockpit.

Z-FACTOR
New high score!

Bored, Jim punches his name into the High Scores board. JIM.
All the other high scores say JIM.

CONCOURSE BAR - MORNING

Jim walks up to the bar and slides onto a stool.

JIM
(in fluent Russian, subtitled)
[I’m ready for today’s new drink]

ARTHUR
(in Russian, subtitled)
[I’m afraid I can’t help you.]

Jim thumps his fist on the bar.

 26.

JIM
(in Russian, subtitled)
[Don’t argue with me, robot. Give me
a new drink.]

ARTHUR
There are no new drinks.

JIM
What do you mean?

ARTHUR
I can make one thousand, four hundred
and thirty-six cocktails. You’ve had
them all.

The news hits Jim like a death in the family.

JIM
There are no new drinks.

GRAND CONCOURSE - NIGHT

Jim walks past the upscale shops, blind to their displays.

Barefoot and unkempt.

He comes to a PHOTO BOOTH. The promotional pictures on the

side catch his attention: people clowning, smiling, kissing.

He pulls back the curtain, sits in the booth. A screen shows

him his own face. Cheery text prompts him: CHOOSE A BACKDROP!

Jim tabs through options. Paris, Angkor Wat, the Alps. A

beach, an office, a New Year’s Eve party. He picks the party.

ONSCREEN: a party scene fills the space behind him. People

laughing, dancing, drinking and kissing.

A strobe flashes four times.

A photostrip drops into the tray outside the machine: four

identical shots of Jim staring into the lens without emotion,
as digital revelers carouse behind him.

GRAND CONCOURSE - ELITE PROMENADE - DAY

Jim walks numbly along, ignoring the stellar view. He munches

messily on potato chips. A SWEEPER ROBOT follows like a dog,
cleaning up the crumbs. There’s a bottle of vodka in an ice
bucket atop the robot.

Jim drops the empty potato-chip bag. As the robot darts in to

clean it up, he plucks the vodka bottle from its back.
 27.

SERVICE CORRIDOR

Drinking from the bottle, Jim walks into frame and stops,
staring: he’s found a SERVICE AIRLOCK.

He goes to the airlock and opens the inner door. A BUZZER

sounds a warning.

AIRLOCK

Jim steps in. The inner door closes behind him. He peers
through a porthole at the stars outside. He touches the outer
door and yanks his hand back. Cold out there.

Jim grabs the lever for the outer door: it’s surrounded by
caution stripes and warning labels. He tightens his grip.

EXT. EXCELSIOR - HULL

The airlock’s outer door opens with a blast of air. Jim

emerges - wearing a SPACE SUIT.

He plants his feet on the hull and walks up the side of the
ship on gravity boots.

ATOP THE SHIP

Jim walks forward across the giant skylight.

AT THE BOW

Jim stands staring at the glittering cosmos: its frigid

beauty mocking his misery. He raises his arms to the heavens,
seeking some answer among the stars.

INT. HIBERNATION BAY - NIGHT

Jim trudges wearily down a long aisle of sleepers: men and

women of a thousand ethnicities, tucked in their rightful
places.He looks at them with naked yearning. One face after
another. Serene in slumber.

Suddenly he stops. Inside a pod, a woman stands sleeping.

JIM
Who are you?

He puts the bottle down. Steps close to peer at her pod’s

data screen:

AURORA DUNN
Writer
New York, New York

He studies her face in fascination for a long time.

 28.

JIM (CONT’D)
Aurora.

FADE TO BLACK.

SUPER: THREE MONTHS LATER

INT. BERLIN SUITE - MORNING

Jim lies asleep, wearing boxer shorts and a full beard. The
suite’s a wreck. Laundry and dishes litter the floor.

His eyes open. He looks at the stars outside. Gropes under

the pillow and pulls out a remote control. Punches a button.

The window shades come down, hiding the view.

CORRIDOR

Jim emerges from his room in boxer shorts and slippers. He’s
dragging a blanket.

A housekeeping robot, its dustpan quivering in anticipation,

hovers outside his door. Jim taps the “Do Not Disturb” button
on his door panel and walks away.

The housekeeping robot squeals in frustration as the door

closes over the mess inside.

CAFETERIA

Jim fills a bowl with cereal. Pours a glass of milk. Tucks a

spoon in his waistband.

ELEVATOR

Jim descends, the blanket draped over his shoulders like a

serape. He holds his bowl of cereal and glass of milk.

HIBERNATION BAY - AURORA’S POD

Jim arrives in front of Aurora’s hibernation pod.

JIM
Good morning.

He sits down carefully. Pours milk over his cereal, sets the
glass aside and begins to eat. His eyes never stray from her.

LIBRARY

A study space lined with glass-walled booths containing

multimedia terminals. Jim sits in a booth, watching a
television interview.
 29.

From outside the booth, we see Aurora onscreen, speaking to a

talk-show host. We cannot hear her: but Jim leans forward,
watching intently.

CONCOURSE BAR - EVENING

Jim sits perusing an electronic slate. Arthur keeps busy

behind the bar. Jim sets the slate aside with a sigh.

JIM
You know when you hear someone say
something you’ve always believed, but
never put into words? It’s like a
light turning on.

ARTHUR
I don’t do a lot of reading.

JIM
She’s good. She sees things, you
know? She’s not afraid to say it.

ARTHUR
Who’s that?

JIM
Aurora.

ARTHUR
The sleeping girl.

JIM
Yeah. The sleeping girl.

Jim drains his cocktail. Rises from his stool and turns to
leave. He stops. Turns back.

JIM (CONT’D)
You know, I’m not saying the universe
is evil. But it’s sure got a nasty
sense of humor.

ARTHUR
How’s that?

JIM
You get to fly to another planet, but
you die on the way. You find the
perfect woman right in front you...
but she’s completely out of reach.

ARTHUR
Aurora.
 30.

JIM
Arthur, I’ve read her books,
everything. I can’t stop thinking
about her. Can’t stay away.

ARTHUR
Jim, Aurora’s asleep.

JIM
I know.
(he shakes his head)
I know.

OBSERVATORY - DAY

IN HOLOGRAM: Excelsior’s progress diagram.

The Excelsior hangs between Earth and Homestead II. A legend

reads: “TIME TRAVELED: 30 YEARS. TIME REMAINING: 90 YEARS.”

Jim stands watching.

The numbers change with a digital click. TIME TRAVELED: 31

YEARS. TIME REMAINING: 89 YEARS.

HIBERNATION BAY - AURORA’S POD

Jim stands in front of Aurora’s pod, staring inside.

He backs up against the opposite pod. Leans against the

glass, hands in his pockets. He stands watching Aurora sleep.

CONCOURSE BAR - MORNING

Jim walks up to Arthur with the HIBERNATION SYSTEMS MANUAL.

Drops the book on the bar with a thud and takes a seat.

JIM
Say you were trapped on a desert
island, and you had the power to wish
somebody there with you. You wouldn’t
be alone anymore, but you’d be
stranding another person on the
island. Do you make the wish?

ARTHUR
I don’t know. I’ve never been on an
island.

JIM
Okay. Say you figured out how to do
something that would make your life a
thousand times better. But it’s wrong,
and there’s no taking it back. How
wrong would it have to be to stop you?
(MORE)
 31.

JIM (CONT'D)
What if it made your life a million
times better? How do you do the math?

ARTHUR
Jim. These are not robot questions.

Jim stares at Arthur in frustration.

JIM
I know how to wake Aurora up.

ARTHUR
Sounds like a fine idea. You could
use some company.

JIM
I’d be stranding her on this ship for
the rest of her life!

ARTHUR
Oh. Well, you can’t do that.

Jim buries his face in his hands.

JIM
What am I going to do?

There’s real despair in his voice. Arthur looks concerned.

ARTHUR
Jim. I’m here for you.

JIM
Arthur, you’re a machine.

HIBERNATION BAY - AURORA’S POD

Jim stands in front of Aurora, the hibernation manual hugged

to his chest. He rocks on his toes. Stares through the glass.

INT. GYMNASIUM

Jim runs on a treadmill, drenched with sweat.

LATER

Jim works a heavy bag, his fists pounding away. The bag jumps
and sways. His teeth are clenched, his expression intense.

JIM
Don’t. Even. Think about it.
 32.

BERLIN SUITE

Jim emerges from the shower in a towel. Paces around his

messy room. Without thought he scoops up the Hibernation
Systems Manual and leafs through it.

JIM
(catching himself)
Come on!

He hurls the book across the room.

HIBERNATION BAY - AURORA’S POD

Jim stands inches from Aurora’s pod. Looking in.

INT. BERLIN SUITE - BATH - DAY

Jim stands at the sink with a futuristic shaver in his hand.

He talks to himself as he takes off his castaway’s beard.

JIM
I’m shaving off my beard.

The whiskers pile up in the sink, wash down the drain. His
face emerges from its mask.

JIM (CONT’D)
Seriously. You can’t do it.

He stares at his reflection. Lifts his razor.

JIM (CONT’D)
(astonished at himself)
I’m shaving off my beard.

CORRIDOR

Jim exits his cabin. Finds a squadron of housekeeping robots

waiting outside. He taps the “PLEASE SERVICE” button beside
his door. The robots zoom inside with squeals of joy.

HIBERNATION BAY - AURORA’S POD

Jim stands in front of Aurora: toolbox in one hand, the

technical manual in the other. He’s breathing hard.

He sets the toolbox down. Opens the manual. It’s densely

annotated in Jim’s handwriting. He opens the pod’s cover
panel and goes to work. His hands shake.

He starts to close a final contact. Stops.

Gets to his feet. Stands looking at Aurora.

 33.

Quickly he kneels and completes the circuit. Pulls his hands

away as if the metal had burned him.

JIM
Okay.

Aurora’s pod hums. Medical data flows across its screen. Her
vital signs re-start. Her skin flushes with color.

Jim stands inches from the glass, staring inside.

Aurora’s perfect lips part. She takes a breath. Her chest

rises and falls. Her thighs shift as she bends her knees. The
sensors on her body drop off and withdraw into the pod.

The rustle of wires rouses Jim from his trance. In mad haste
he snatches up his tools and manual and flees the scene.

A moment later Aurora opens her eyes. They’re beautiful.

VIDEO STEWARDESS
Good morning, Aurora!

BERLIN SUITE

The luxury cabin now tidy and immaculate. Jim bursts in, wild-
eyed. Drops his toolbox. Hides the manual in the closet.

He splashes water on his face. Stares into the mirror.

DECK SEVEN - CORRIDOR

Jim sticks his head out of his cabin. Looks up and down the
hall. Steps out warily.

GRAND CONCOURSE

On the Concourse’s highest promenade, Jim paces nervously,

glancing around. She could be anywhere.

AURORA (O.S.)
Hello?

Jim rushes to the railing. Below, on the Grand Concourse,

Aurora is turning in circles, looking up at the balconies.

AURORA (CONT’D)
Hello!

JIM
(a husky whisper)
Hi.
(mustering a shout)
Hello!
 34.

Aurora spins. Spots him.

AURORA
Hey! Can I talk to you?

JIM
I’ll come down.

Jim runs down six flights of stairs, his heart in his throat.

He reaches the Grand Concourse out of breath. Stops a few

paces away, just looking at Aurora, getting his wind back.

AURORA
Passenger or crew?

JIM
Passenger. Jim Preston.

He sticks out a hand. She shakes it firmly. Electric for Jim.

AURORA
(all business)
Aurora Dunn. Do you know what’s going
on? Nobody else in my row woke up.

JIM
Yeah, I, uh...same for me.

AURORA
The crew’s supposed to wake up a
month before we do, but I haven’t
seen anybody.

Jim swallows hard.

JIM
The crew’s still sleeping.

Aurora stares at him.

AURORA
What are you saying? Nobody’s awake?

JIM
Just me.

AURORA
Just you.

JIM
Just us.
 35.

AURORA
But somebody’s got to land the ship
in a few weeks.

Jim’s finding it hard to deliver the bad news.

JIM
I have to show you something.

ELEVATOR A

Jim and Aurora ride upward. Jim can’t keep his eyes off her.

AURORA
Typical. So much incompetence in
these companies. No accountability!
They lost my luggage on the flight to
the spaceport. I’m leaving the planet
and my bags almost didn’t make it!
Nobody apologizes. Nobody even feels
bad. Where are we going?

Jim yanks his eyes away from her.

JIM
The Observatory.

OBSERVATORY

Aurora’s eyes, wide and staring. Her face a mask of horror.

In front of them in the starry void hangs the ship’s progress

indicator - the Excelsior hanging between Earth and Homestead
II. Thirty-one years elapsed; eighty-nine years to go.

AURORA
(a shocked whisper)
Eighty-nine years to go.

JIM
The other passengers aren’t late
waking up. We’re early.

Aurora stares at Jim.

AURORA
We’ve got to get back to sleep.

HIBERNATION BAY

Jim and Aurora walk down a row of hibernation pods.

AURORA
We just need to get back in our pods.
 36.

JIM
It’s not that simple. Putting
somebody into hibernation takes
special equipment. Remember the
facility where they put us under?

Jim points at a pod beside them. A middle-aged woman inside.

JIM (CONT’D)
This pod’ll keep her in hibernation
as long as you want. Or wake her up.
But it can’t put her back to sleep.

AURORA
(getting it)
You don’t think there’s a way back
into hibernation.

JIM
Not that I can see.

AURORA
There has to be. There’s always a
way. Where’s the crew?

CREW HIBERNATION FACILITY DOOR

Jim and Aurora stand staring at the door: scarred by Jim’s

many assaults.

Aurora looks through the porthole at the crew inside. She

runs her hands thoughtfully over the door’s dents and gouges.

AURORA
(dreading the answer)
How long have you been awake, Jim?

JIM
A year and three weeks.

Aurora covers her mouth. Her eyes full of horror.

AURORA
Oh, no. No.

She turns and walks briskly away. Suddenly breaks into a run.
Jim watches her go, astonished. He runs after her.

HIBERNATION BAY

Aurora runs down a row of hibernation pods, her eyes

searching wildly among the glass tubes. She turns a corner.
Hesitates. Runs down another row. She’s fighting tears.
 37.

She puts on speed. Her sash unknots itself and her robe
billows behind her.

IN ANOTHER ROW

Jim jogs along, worried. He’s lost her. He pauses, listening.

In the distance, slippered feet. He runs that way.

He stops: the sash of Aurora’s robe lies on the deck. He

picks it up. Runs on.

JIM
Aurora!

He rounds a corner and sees her. She’s turning in place in

the middle of the row. Laughing at her own panic.

AURORA
I can’t even find the one I’m
supposed to be in.

Jim gives her the sash. She ties her robe around her.

AURORA (CONT’D)
Thanks.

Jim looks back at her, miserable with guilt.

JIM
I should have found a better way to
tell you.

AURORA
I’m sorry. I lost it for a second. It
just hit me, how serious this is. How
did you wake up?

JIM
I just did. My pod dumped me out, and
there I was.

AURORA
Me too. We have to get help.

CONCOURSE - COMMUNICATIONS CENTER

Jim and Aurora stand at a Passenger Communication Station.

Jim swipes his card through the Comm Station’s slot. It
brings up his account information.

JIM
I’ve sent sixteen messages to Earth.
A bunch to the Homestead Company, one
to the Space Administration, one to
the United Nations.
(MORE)
 38.

JIM (CONT'D)
A couple to Homestead II just for the
hell of it. My phone bill’s about
eighty grand.

AURORA
How soon could we hear something?

JIM
With speed-of-light lag...fifty-six
years.

Aurora’s mouth goes dry. She swallows hard.

AURORA
What about the other occupied worlds?

JIM
They’re even farther away. We’d die
of old age before they could answer.

AURORA
What about other ships?
(off Jim’s stare)
Jim?

JIM
(feeling very stupid)
I never thought of other ships.

AURORA
Jim, you’ve had more than a year!
There has to be a flight plan or
something...

They search the Comm Center and find a map table showing the
Excelsior’s position relative to the Occupied Worlds.

Aurora fiddles with the controls. Interstellar flight plans

appear: a holographic spiderweb of starship tracks.

AURORA (CONT’D)
There!

They inspect the threads of light - an icon on each thread

representing a starship. Even Jim is excited now.

AURORA (CONT’D)
How can we tell how close they are?

JIM
The computer knows. Give me a ship.

AURORA
(peering at the star map)
The Zephyr.
 39.

JIM
Round-trip message time...ninety-nine
years.

AURORA
The Andromeda.

JIM
One hundred thirty-two years.

AURORA
The Maximilian.

JIM
Eighty-one years.

Jim and Aurora deflate visibly.

AURORA
That’s the closest one.

GRAND CONCOURSE - EVENING

The ship’s lights turn the cool blue of evening as Jim and
Aurora walk across the plaza. Aurora looks up.

AURORA
What’s happening?

JIM
Nine o’clock. Night time.

AURORA
Oh.
(she stops walking)
I know I should be working the
problem right now, but I can barely
keep my eyes open.

JIM
You just came out of hibernation.
It’ll be a couple days before you’re
a hundred percent. You should rest.

AURORA
(yawning)
I think I have to.

JIM
I’ll walk you to your cabin.

AURORA
No, I’m all right.
 40.

JIM
Okay.

AURORA
Jim. Don’t look so down. It’s going
to be okay. You’ve got me on the team
now. Chin up, all right?

Jim nods, speechless.

AURORA (CONT’D)
I’m in room 973 if you need me.

Jim watches her walk away.

JIM
I’m in the Berlin Suite if you need me.

She stops. Turns to look back at him.

AURORA
A year and a half? I can’t imagine.
It must have been hard for you.

The sudden kindness is almost more than Jim can bear. His
voice grows suddenly hoarse.

JIM
It was.

AURORA
Good night, Jim.

GRAND CONCOURSE - CONCOURSE BAR

Jim slides onto a barstool.

JIM
Whiskey, neat.

ARTHUR
Sure thing. How’s your day been?

Jim lifts the whiskey and tips it back.

JIM
Aurora’s awake.

ARTHUR
Congratulations.
(off Jim’s face)
You don’t look happy.

JIM
Arthur. Can you keep a secret?
 41.

ARTHUR
I’m a bartender.

JIM
Don’t tell Aurora I woke her up. She
thinks it was an accident. Let me
tell her.

AURORA’S CABIN - NIGHT

Aurora lies sleeping.

BERLIN SUITE - BEDROOM - NIGHT

Jim sits on the edge of his bed. Stares out the window.

GRAND CONCOURSE - INFOMAT - MORNING

Aurora talks with a relentlessly cheerful Infomat. She’s

wearing her own clothes, and it’s a transformation: she looks
hip and urban, beautiful.

AURORA
(indignant)
How can there be no way to put
someone back into hibernation? What
if a pod breaks down?

INFOMAT
No hibernation pod has malfunctioned
in thousands of interstellar flights.

AURORA
Well, I’m awake.

INFOMAT
Hibernation pods are fail-safe.

Jim appears behind Aurora.

JIM
Morning. Have you eaten?

AURORA
I’m starving. This is the dumbest
machine.

INFOMAT
Happy to help!

CAFETERIA

Jim watches in astonishment as Aurora blithely orders the

snacks that the machines deny him. The Mocha Cappuccino
Extreme. The French Breakfast Puff. The Gourmet Fruit Salad.
 42.

They sit. Aurora eyes Jim’s tray.

AURORA
You’re a man of simple tastes.

JIM
I’m a silver class passenger. The
French Breakfast Puff is above my pay
grade.

AURORA
Oh, no! All this time? What can I get
you?

JIM
No, I’m fine, really...

AURORA
Stop it. I’ll be right back.

She gets up. In a minute she’s back, setting a tray down in

front of Jim: A western omelette...toast...a side of
bacon...a cafe latte.

Jim shoves his old breakfast aside. They dig in.

JIM
Thank you.

AURORA
You think the crew members would know
what to do? Could we wake them up if
we got in there?

A flash of guilt across Jim’s face.

JIM
I’m no expert. But I think so.

AURORA
But we can’t get in there.

JIM
No.

AURORA
Maybe there’s another way to go to
sleep. What about the infirmary?

JIM
I looked around. It’s the usual
hospital stuff. Scanners, autodocs.
 43.

AURORA
Did you look for ways of going to
sleep?

JIM
Not really.

AURORA
Well, Jim!

JIM
You think they’ve got suspended
animation pills sitting around?

AURORA
You don’t know until you look. What
about cargo? Maybe there’s a
hibernation machine in the hold.

JIM
I read the manifests. It’s mostly
farming stuff, machines and trade
goods. We’re not going to find a
hibernation facility in a box.

AURORA
You don’t know that! We have to think
big here. Maybe we can build our own
hibernation machine.

JIM
No, we can’t.

AURORA
Jim, you’re not even trying!

JIM
I’ve been awake for over a year. I’ve
tried everything I can think of.

AURORA
(she gets up angrily)
Well, it looks to me like you missed
some possibilities. And I’m not ready
to give up.

She strides out. Jim watches her go. Reaches over and takes
the Gourmet Fruit Salad off her tray.

INFIRMARY - DAY

Aurora inspects the gleaming medical equipment. Rummages

through cabinets full of medicines and instruments.
 44.

She opens a steel vault. A deep freeze: icy vapor rolls out.
Inside: racks of chrome capsules at subzero temperatures. She
leans close: each frosted capsule is labeled with a
passenger’s name and the word SPERM or OVA.

This is the GENE BANK, a repository of genetic material from

every crew member and passenger aboard the ship.

LIBRARY - DAY

Aurora sits at a library workstation.

WORKSTATION
No plans are available.

AURORA
What about research articles? Any
kind of technical documents.

WORKSTATION
Hibernation technology is
proprietary. The following articles
deal with the subject on a
theoretical level.

GRAND CONCOURSE

Jim comes upon a cleaning robot that appears to have lost its
mind. It bumps repeatedly into a wall, blindly.

Jim turns the robot around. It drives in a circle and resumes

bumping into the wall.

Jim watches the robot curiously.

CREW HIBERNATION FACILITY DOOR - EVENING

Aurora frowns through the window at the sleeping crew.

A litter of tools still surrounds the battered door. Aurora

snatches up a crowbar and bashes the porthole. The bar spins
from her stinging hands, but the window’s not even marked.

CONCOURSE - COMMUNICATIONS CENTER - DAY

Aurora sits at a communications booth.

COMMUNICATIONS BOOTH
Planet and connection, please.

AURORA
Earth. New York City. Random House,
office of the Publisher in Chief.
 45.

COMMUNICATIONS BOOTH
Begin message.

AURORA
(into camera)
This is Aurora Dunn. Passenger on the
Starship Excelsior. I’m an author of
yours, with a contract for a book on
the colony worlds.
(wryly)
You gave me a big advance. I know you
won’t get this message for a long
time...I don’t know what you’re
supposed to do about it...

She gropes for words, not sure where she’s going with this.

AURORA (CONT’D)
But I’m in trouble...and I had to
tell someone.

GRAND CONCOURSE - EVENING

Jim sits on a sofa with his toolbox beside him. The broken
robot lies on its back in front of him. He tinkers inside it.

Aurora drops into a chair across from him. He looks up. Takes
in her condition: weary and frustrated.

AURORA
There’s no way we’re going to build a
hibernation machine.

JIM
No.

AURORA
And there’s no magic sleeping pills
in the infirmary.

JIM
No.

AURORA
I did find the gene bank. Five
thousand sperm and egg samples on
ice. I should be glad they do that.
By the time we get to Homestead II,
that little capsule in the freezer is
going to be all that’s left of me. We
really are screwed, aren’t we?

JIM
Pretty much.
 46.

BELLA CANTINA - EVENING

Jim and Aurora sit across a Mexican dinner they’ve already

put a dent in. An electric candle burns between them. A robot
in a sombrero drops off two mojitos and scoots away.

Aurora finishes her plate and leans back.

AURORA
So who are you, Jim?

JIM
Me?

AURORA
Yeah. I’m going to be seeing you around.
I should know who I’m talking to.

Jim is flustered by the attention.

JIM
I’m from Denver.

AURORA
What kind of work do you do?

JIM
I fix things. Transport, robotics,
industrial systems. Little of
everything. On the emigration forms
I’m a “rate two” mechanical engineer.

AURORA
I’m not nearly that useful. I’m a
writer.

JIM
What kind of writer?

AURORA
Long-form observational pieces.
Social commentary, investigative
work, some humor...
(she grins)
A little of everything.
(off Jim’s stare)
Do I have something on my face?

Jim tears his eyes away from her, embarrassed.

JIM
Sorry.
 47.

AURORA
Oh, right! I’m sorry. I’m forgetting.
You just spent a year with no one to
talk to but robots. I don’t know how
you did it. They’re all such idiots!

JIM
Not all of them.

CONCOURSE BAR - NIGHT

Jim leads Aurora up to the bar. It appears deserted. Aurora

is all curiosity.

Suddenly Arthur appears, swinging up from behind the bar as

if mounted on a hinge. Aurora gives a squeal of surprise.

ARTHUR
Evening, Jim. Who’s the lovely lady?

JIM
Arthur, this is Aurora. Aurora,
Arthur.

ARTHUR
Aurora. A pleasure.

He takes her hand formally.

AURORA
Arthur! Lovely to meet you.

She peeks over the bar at Arthur’s mechanical mounting, the

rails he rolls on.

ARTHUR
What’ll it be?

AURORA
Dirty martini!
(to Jim)
Now this is a robot I can talk to.

JIM
Android, technically.
(to Arthur)
Whiskey and soda.

LATER

Empty glasses show that Jim and Aurora have been doing
yeoman’s work at the bar. Both are tipsy and laughing.
 48.

AURORA
(collecting herself)
Oh...I almost forgot my life is in
ruins.

That wipes the smile off Jim’s face.

JIM
Sorry.

AURORA
What for?
(she gets up)
I’m going to bed. In the morning
we’ll think of something brilliant.

JIM
All right.

AURORA
Good night, Jim. Good night, Arthur.

She exits.

ARTHUR
Good night.
(to Jim, sotto voce)
She’s wonderful. Excellent choice.

Jim drops his head into his hands.

AURORA’S CABIN - NIGHT

Aurora unpacks. She stows clothing in drawers and closets:

everything at right angles and perfectly creased.

She looks up suddenly, astonishment on her face.

AURORA
Of course!

EXT. BERLIN SUITE

Aurora pounds on the door.

AURORA
Jim! Wake up!

The door opens. Jim stands blinking in his bathrobe.

AURORA (CONT’D)
We’ll go home.
 49.

ELEVATOR

Aurora drags Jim in. He’s still in his robe.

AURORA
It takes too long to get to Homestead
II. But we’re closer to Earth. We’ll
turn the ship around.

JIM
We can’t.

AURORA
It’s our only chance of getting off
this ship in our lifetimes!

COMMAND DECK

Aurora drags Jim out of the elevator. Looks around.

AURORA
Where’s the...navigating place?

JIM
The Bridge. That way. But listen...

She marches off down the corridor. He follows.

AURORA
We can learn how to pilot the ship.
We have all the time in the world.

JIM
Just one problem.

COMMAND DECK - BRIDGE DOOR

Aurora opens the Bridge door - revealing the armored hatch.

Gouges and burns betray Jim’s past efforts to get inside.

JIM
Everything important - the controls,
the reactor, the engines - it’s all
behind firewalls. No way through.

AURORA
Oh.

JIM
Sorry.

AURORA
(crushed)
That was my last good idea.
 50.

FORWARD OBSERVATION DECK - DAY

Aurora sits curled up in an armchair. Around her, a dizzying

view of the cosmos. There’s a cup of coffee on a table beside
her. In her lap, an electronic slate with a microphone.

AURORA
New file. My Voyage.

A clean page opens on the slate. The title in the corner: “My
Voyage.” As Aurora speaks, the page fills with words.

AURORA (CONT’D)
I boarded the Excelsior with a
destination. A goal. To walk on new
worlds. But things have taken an
unexpected turn.

GRAND CONCOURSE - DAY

Aurora jogs in sneakers and sweats. Cabin doors flash past.

AURORA (V.O.)
I’ve been awake on this ship for
seven days, awake far too soon...

Dead end. She’s reached the aft end of the ship. She crosses
a lobby and runs back the other way.

AURORA (V.O.)
...and I may well spend the rest of
my life here...

Running along a promenade, Aurora reaches the forward end of

the ship. Dead end again.

AURORA (V.O.)
...in a little steel world a thousand
meters long.

GRAND CONCOURSE

Jim sits at a table reading a technical manual. He looks up.

Watches Aurora jog around the atrium and vanish.

AURORA (V.O.)
Another passenger shares my fate. A
mechanic named Jim Preston.

SWIMMING POOL - DAY

The swimming pool is a marvel: one entire wall is a window

extending from the ceiling to the bottom of the pool.
 51.

Aurora enters in her Homestead Company bathrobe. Drops the

robe to reveal a bathing suit. She dives into the pool.

AURORA (V.O.)
The other passengers will sleep for
another ninety years.

EXT. STARSHIP EXCELSIOR - SWIMMING POOL WINDOW

Aurora swims, a slender shape moving on the water’s surface.

We pull out, the ship dwindling, the blue window receding.

AURORA (V.O.)
By the time they wake, Jim and I will
have lived, grown old, and died.

INT. FORWARD OBSERVATION DECK

Back on Aurora in her armchair, writing.

AURORA
Vanished, like a dream, in the blink
of an eye.

She falters, frightened by her own words.

CAFETERIA - DAY

Jim sits tinkering with the goggle head of the broken robot.
The table is strewn with tools and parts. Aurora sits down
across from him.

AURORA
Why did you do it?

Jim is thunderstruck. The game is up. He swallows hard.

JIM
Do what?

AURORA
Emigrate. Leave Earth. I’m
interviewing you.

JIM
You’re what?

AURORA
You’re the first hibernation failure
in the history of space travel. That
makes you a story.

JIM
Who are you going to tell?
 52.

AURORA
Posterity. So why’d you give up your
life on Earth?

Jim hesitates. He hadn’t thought about it quite that way.

AURORA (CONT’D)
A hundred and twenty years’
hibernation means you never see your
family and friends again. You sleep
your way to another planet and
another century. It’s the ultimate
geographical suicide.

JIM
I, uh...I never really...

AURORA
Were you running away from something?

JIM
No. Things were okay.

AURORA
So?

JIM
I just wanted...you know. A fresh
start. Back to basics.

AURORA
That’s Homestead Company propaganda.

JIM
I guess.

AURORA
Jim!

JIM
When something breaks on Earth these
days, you don’t fix it. You replace
it. But in the colonies they still
have problems to solve. My kind of
problems. A handyman is somebody.

Nothing there for Aurora to scoff at. She looks impressed.

JIM (CONT’D)
And there’s room! Open country. Woods
and fields. Room to grow.

AURORA
Now you’re back to slogans.
 53.

JIM
Can’t slogans be true?

HIBERNATION BAY

Jim and Aurora walk down an aisle of hibernation pods.

AURORA
You know how much the Homestead
Company made off its first planet,
Homestead I? Over eight quadrillion
dollars. That’s eight million
billions. Colony planets are the
biggest business going. Did you pay
full price for your ticket?

JIM
No. I’m in a desirable trade.

AURORA
So they fill your head with dreams,
discount your ticket, and you fly off
to populate their planet and pay
Homestead ten percent of everything
you do for the rest of your life. You
think you’re free? You’re just part
of the business plan.

Jim waves at the rows of sleepers.

JIM
All you see here is five thousand
suckers?

AURORA
I see zeroes on the Homestead
Company’s bottom line.

JIM
I see five thousand men and women
changing their lives. For five
thousand different reasons. You don’t
know these people.

AURORA
I’m a journalist. I know people.

Jim walks up to a hibernation pod. Glances at the data

screen. He covers the screen with his hand.

JIM
This guy. Banker, teacher, or
gardener?
 54.

Aurora studies the sleeper: a barrel-chested man of 50 with

gray temples and a jutting jaw.

AURORA
Banker.

JIM
Gardener.

Jim moves down the row, peeks at another screen, covers it.

JIM (CONT’D)
Is this Madison, Donna, or Lola?

Aurora peers: a birdlike young woman with long red hair.

AURORA
She’s too silly to be a Donna. I
think she’s a Lola.

JIM
Madison. Chef, accountant, or
midwife?

AURORA
She has to be a midwife. There’s no
way you made that one up.

JIM
(chuckling, caught)
She’s a midwife. I didn’t know they
still had midwives.

They move among the sleepers, quizzing each other.

AURORA
(pointing at a man and
woman side by side)
Married, or strangers?

JIM
Married.

AURORA
(impressed)
Yes.
(about an older woman)
Politician, historian, or artist?

JIM
I don’t know. Artist?

AURORA
It doesn’t say. But I’ll tell you
this: I like her. We’d be friends.
 55.

Jim looks at Aurora seriously.

JIM
You think you can see that?

AURORA
Don’t you?

Jim looks at the woman in the pod. Smiles.

JIM
Yeah.

FORWARD OBSERVATION DECK - DAY

Jim and Aurora sit together on a sofa - the universe spread

out before them. Aurora nestled in a lap blanket. Jim’s feet
up on a coffee table.

JIM
A round-trip ticket?

AURORA
That’s right. I was going to fly to
Homestead II. Live for a year. Then
right back to Earth.

JIM
(perplexed)
I left Earth for a new life. But you
end up back where you started.

AURORA
I end up in the future. Two hundred
and fifty years in the future. On
Earth, which is still the center of
civilization, overcrowded or not. And
I arrive with a story to tell, and a
perspective no other writer has.

Jim looks at Aurora, trying to square her chipper tone with

the pure desolation of her plan. He doesn’t get it.

JIM
And what’s the story?

AURORA
The selling of the colonial dream.

Jim’s eyes widen at that pronouncement. He thinks it over.

AURORA (CONT’D)
How did you say good-bye?
 56.

JIM
I guess I didn’t. I just left.

AURORA
I had this huge farewell party.
Everybody came. Family, friends...
Enemies. Everyone I knew.
(she laughs bleakly)
Jim, I can’t think of anything else
to try. To save us, I mean. I don’t
even want to think about it anymore.
I can’t bear it.
(she stands)
What is there to do around here?

MOVIE THEATER - DAY

Jim leads Aurora into the movie theater. The lights come up.
The curtain opens. Aurora looks around in wonder.

A bundle of cables snakes down the aisle.

JIM
Watch your step. I’ve made a few
changes.

They sit. Next to Jim’s seat there’s a cluster of machines.

He taps a button that produces a bucket of hot popcorn.

JIM (CONT’D)
Popcorn?

Aurora grins and takes some.

AURORA
I never do this.

A mobile screen beside Jim lists movies.

JIM
What are you in the mood for?

AURORA
Horror. Something bloody.
(off his laughter)
I don’t know. You choose.

Jim taps a button. The curtains slide open. They settle back.

GYMNASIUM - BASKETBALL COURT - DAY

Jim and Aurora play one-on-one. She’s not especially good,

but fiercely competitive. They jostle and scramble, laughing.

Aurora snags the ball. For a minute she stands there beaming.
 57.

JIM
What are you so happy about?

AURORA
I’m up two points!

She cuts around him toward the basket.

DECK TWO - VIRTUAL MUSEUM - EVENING

White rooms. As Jim and Aurora enter, the blank wall panels
display a collection of bright abstract paintings.

Aurora goes to the control podium. Scrolls through the menu,

covers her eyes and chooses blind.

The wall panels fill with medieval visions of Hell. She

winces. Chooses again. Chaotic collages. She frowns.

Jim steps to her side and makes a selection, surprising her.

The walls fill with landscapes - stark plains and oceans,
with lonely figures isolated in the vastness.

The images pull Jim and Aurora in: they stand before a dark
seascape.

Without thinking she reaches out and tucks her hand in the
crook of his elbow.

FADE TO BLACK.

SUPER: ONE MONTH LATER

SWIMMING POOL - MORNING

Aurora swims laps, cutting through the water.

In the balcony above the pool, Jim stands watching her.

Aurora, making a turn at the end of a lap, catches a glimpse
of him but doesn’t let on.

Underwater she smiles.

GRAND CONCOURSE - DAY

A little duster robot patrols the concourse. Jim’s hands

reach into frame and lift the robot off its wheels.

Passing along an upper promenade, Aurora sees Jim walk away

with the duster robot under his arm.
 58.

JIM’S WORKSHOP - DAY

A functional room that Jim has turned into a workshop. Broken

robots of different types lie around in partial states of
disassembly.

Jim stands at a workbench, the duster robot in front of him.

He tinkers with its complex works.

He sets the robot on the floor. Types a command on his

industrial laptop, hits EXECUTE. His kidnapped robot does a
figure-eight on the floor. Jim smiles in satisfaction.

FORWARD OBSERVATION DECK - DAY

Aurora sits on a sofa, writing slate in her lap. She’s

editing: dragging words around with a fingertip.

A mechanical whir distracts her. She looks down.

Jim’s pet robot looks up at her with binocular eyes. It

carries a paper in a clip on its back. Aurora pulls it free.

A handwritten note from Jim. It reads:

Come to dinner with me tonight?

- Jim

Aurora reads the note with a grin.

AURORA
(to the robot)
Is he asking me on a date?

JIM’S WORKSHOP

Jim sits at his laptop, watching the screen: a robot’s-eye-

view of Aurora. He wiggles a joystick on his laptop, and...

FORWARD OBSERVATION DECK

...the robot nods its goggle head. Aurora laughs.

Beside the note-clip, the robot carries a pen in a makeshift

holder. Aurora takes the pen, scribbles on the paper. Tucks
it back into the robot’s note clip.

GRAND CONCOURSE - CONCOURSE BAR

Arthur polishes glasses behind the bar.

The robot crosses the Concourse, note clipped to its back.

Arthur watches it pass.
 59.

JIM’S WORKSHOP

Jim plucks the note from the robot’s back. Aurora’s reply is
written in bold letters:

Love to. -A

AURORA’S CABIN - EVENING

Aurora gets ready for dinner. A slim dress, a few pieces of

jewelry, her hair up. She looks like a goddess.

The doorbell rings. Jim stands on her doorstep in a dapper

jacket. His eyes widen as he takes Aurora in.

JIM
Wow.

AURORA
You clean up all right yourself. You
went shopping.

JIM
I went shoplifting.

In the corridor waits a cargo robot to which Jim has attached

a loveseat. He helps Aurora aboard. Takes a seat beside her.
She’s charmed.

JIM (CONT’D)
Rutherford! To the bar!

CARGO ROBOT
Yes, Passenger Jim!

The robot zooms off to the sound of Aurora’s laughter.

GRAND CONCOURSE - CONCOURSE BAR

Jim and Aurora take seats. Arthur puts on his best manners.

ARTHUR
Evening. What can I get for you?

AURORA
Manhattan, please.

JIM
Single malt, rocks.

Arthur pours.

ARTHUR
You two look fine this evening.
 60.

AURORA
(confidentially)
We’re on a date!

ARTHUR
Very nice.

AURORA
(to Jim, teasing)
Took you long enough to ask.

JIM
I was giving you space!

AURORA
Space is one thing I don’t need more
of. Oh! I found a drug that would put
us in a coma.

JIM
Really?!

AURORA
But the catch is, we’d still be aging.

JIM
Oh.

AURORA
Yeah. If I have to grow old on this
ship, I’d at least like to be awake
for it. So that was a failure.

JIM
A highly ambitious failure.

AURORA
There’s the title of my memoir. “A
Highly Ambitious Failure,” by Aurora
Dunn.

Jim laughs. He thinks for a minute.

JIM
“Voyage to Nowhere,” by Jim Preston.

AURORA
(laughing)
“My Life in a Tin Can.”

JIM
“A Spaceship Built For Two.”
 61.

GRAND CONCOURSE - NIGHT

Jim and Aurora ride along on the cargo robot, giddy and
loose. Suddenly she points. They’re passing the photo booth.

AURORA
Rutherford, stop!

The robot stops. She pulls Jim off.

AURORA (CONT’D)
Come on, we have to do this!

She pulls Jim to the photo booth. They tumble inside. As the
strobe flashes, she kisses him hard. Jim looks at her in
happy astonishment.

Outside, the photo strip drops into the tray. In the first
frame, they pose. In the second, they laugh. In the third,
they kiss. In the last, Aurora smiles at the camera. Jim
looks at Aurora.

XANADU

The Excelsior’s grandest restaurant. Lavishly styled. Jim and

Aurora sit at the best table.

Robot waiters set covered plates in front of them. Lift the

silver covers to reveal exquisite dishes. Aurora takes her
first bite and smiles, her eyes wide.

AURORA
So good.

JIM
It wasn’t easy getting a reservation.

They grin at each other across the table.

INT. AIRLOCK - NIGHT

Rutherford the robot whisks Jim and Aurora up to a service

airlock and stops. Aurora looks mystified - as if their date
has culminated in a visit to a broom closet.

AURORA
What’s this?

JIM
The best show in town.
 62.

MINUTES LATER

Jim stands wearing a spacesuit - helmet off. Helping Aurora

into a suit of her own. She’s thrilled and terrified, like a
skydiver taking her first jump.

AURORA
You’ve done this before?

JIM
Yeah.

AURORA
And it’s safe.

JIM
Reasonably safe.

EXT. STARSHIP EXCELSIOR - HULL

Jim and Aurora, in spacesuits, walk forward along the hull,

hand in hand. Around them, a riot of stars. The Milky Way.
Blue-shifted stars ahead of the ship, red-shifted stars aft.

At the bow they stop, taking in the awe-inspiring view.

AURORA
Jim. It’s incredible.

He turns to face her. The blue stars frame his head; the
pink, Aurora’s. He takes a knee in front of her.

AURORA (CONT’D)
What are you doing?

Jim unreels tethers from both of their belts. Sticks the

anchors to the hull - and turns off Aurora’s gravity boots.
She floats off the hull, clinging to his hands. Electrified.

AURORA (CONT’D)
Jim!

But there’s wonder and raw delight in her eyes. She pulls her
face toward his - and their helmet visors clunk together.

INT. AIRLOCK - NIGHT

Aurora and Jim kiss almost violently as they squirm out of

their spacesuits.
 63.

INT. BERLIN SUITE - NIGHT

Jim and Aurora make love in the wide bed, satin sheets
tangled around them, a starry tapestry outside the window.

FADE TO BLACK.

CAFETERIA - MORNING

Jim and Aurora sit eating breakfast. Aurora eats happily: Jim
watches her across the table.

AURORA
I’m starving. You have no idea.
(she grins)
Last night was just what I needed.

JIM
You are the most beautiful woman I’ve
ever seen. You kill me.

Aurora stops eating, her spoon halfway to her lips.

They look at each other.

Jim grabs her across the table. She comes out of her chair.
They kiss fiercely - Aurora climbs onto the table, sweeping
dishes aside. A moan. A crash of crockery.

Cleaning robots zoom in as Jim and Aurora make love on the

tabletop, sweeping up as glassware continues to fall.

BERLIN SUITE

Jim and Aurora lie in Jim’s imperial bed, glistening with

sweat and breathing hard. She nestles in his arms, her back
against his chest. They look out at the stars.

JIM
You okay?

AURORA
Yes, I’m fine. It’s just...

She waves her hand in the air as if to signify, all of this.

JIM
I know.

She snuggles in tighter, and he holds her close.

EXT. STARSHIP EXCELSIOR - BERLIN SUITE WINDOW

Through the window, Jim and Aurora lie together in the

luxurious bed.
 64.

We pull out, the window dwindling, as the Excelsior soars

away from us through a burning nebula of red and gold.

FADE TO BLACK.

SUPER: THREE MONTHS LATER

CORRIDOR - MORNING

A luxury cabin door: the doorplate reads “Vienna Suite.”

VIENNA SUITE - BEDROOM

The ship’s most romantic cabin. On one side of the bedroom,

Aurora’s mementos and possessions. On the other side, Jim’s.

They wake together. She kisses him on the cheek with the ease
of long habit and heads for the shower. He watches her go.

SWIMMING POOL - MORNING

Swimming, Aurora reaches the end of a lap. A hand reaches

down and catches her before she can turn.

Jim kneels at the edge of the pool, in coveralls and work

boots, a tool belt slung over his shoulder.

JIM
I’m going down to the cargo hold.

Aurora pulls herself up and kisses him.

AURORA
Careful.

JIM
Back by happy hour.

FORWARD OBSERVATION DECK - DAY

Aurora writes on her sofa, surrounded by electronic slates.

AURORA
The Polynesians set out into the
Pacific Ocean with no destination.
Searching for islands. They sailed
into the endless sea on faith.

SUBDECK A - NUMBER EIGHT CARGO HOLD - DAY

Jim walks among the cargo racks. Machines stacked from floor
to ceiling: tractors, combines, gravity boats and hovercraft.
 65.

AURORA (V.O.)
Some never returned. Others found land
and prospered. What drove them out
onto the sea? Curiosity? Tradition?
The wish for something better?

Jim opens cargo containers. He sorts through ingots of rare

metals, solar panels, spools of gold and silver wire. Raw
materials for a young world.

AURORA (V.O.)
The urge to move is as primal as
hunger or thirst. We run, we drive,
we sail, we fly.

Jim finds a stash of golf carts and his eyes light up.

GRAND CONCOURSE - CONCOURSE BAR - DAY

Aurora sits at the bar with her slate, sipping a drink.

AURORA
Is it movement that we need? Or the
possibility of something new?

ARTHUR
What’s that?

AURORA
I’m writing, Arthur. Hush.

Aurora’s slate has recorded this exchange: she erases the

extra words with her fingertip.

SUBDECK A - NUMBER SEVEN CARGO BAY

Jim drives his cart into a new bay - and stares in wonder.

In oversized hibernation pods: cattle, horses, sheep, oxen.

All asleep. Chickens, ducks and geese in individual cells.

AURORA (V.O.)
Like seeds, we carry what we need.
The wind drives us - whether the
trade winds, the solar winds, or the
winds of chance.

The next aisle holds plants in stasis: saplings in tubes,

seedlings in individual vials.

Jim stops in front of a glass case. Rosy light bathes his

face. He smiles. We don’t see why.
 66.

AURORA (V.O.)
We take root where we fall. And
helplessly we grow.

VIENNA SUITE - BEDROOM - EVENING

Aurora sits with her slate. Eyeing Jim’s side of the room.

Giving in, she begins to explore Jim’s possessions: poking

into the drawers of his nightstand and dresser.

She opens his closet. Shifting things, she finds a dog-eared

manual on hibernation pods. A bookmark in the pages. She goes
to open the book - and the bookmark slides into her hand.

It’s the photo strip Jim took during his isolation: Four
identical shots of his face, bearded and hollow-eyed. The
melancholy images hit her hard.

She touches the pictures to make them move: but Jim sits
immobile as the digital partygoers in the background cheer
and laugh. In the fourth image, Jim sighs heavily.

Voices in the hall.

CLEANING ROBOT (O.S.)

Hello, Passenger.

JIM (O.S.)
Hello, robot.

Hastily Aurora replaces the manual. Closes the closet.

Jim appears in the doorway: tool belt over his shoulder,

duffel bag in hand.

AURORA
Hi.

JIM
Hey. How was your day?

AURORA
I wrote a few pages. I’m not sure
what I’m doing anymore. I think I’m
writing about us.

JIM
Makes sense.

AURORA
I’m not sure I want to write about
us. I don’t even know how to think
about it. I live in a palace. But
it’s also a prison.
(MORE)
 67.

AURORA (CONT'D)
I’m moving at half the speed of light
and I can’t go anywhere!

Jim takes that in.

JIM
The cargo hold is full of pioneer
gear. Floatships and heavy lifters and
grav barges. That’s what I wanted: a
world still being made. Where you can
build your own house and live in it.

AURORA
I’ll never live the life I was going
to write about. So much for literary
immortality.

They sit for a moment in glum contemplation.

AURORA (CONT’D)
Did you find anything down there that
could help us?

JIM
Yes. I found these.

Jim unzips his duffel bag and takes out a bouquet of red
roses. Aurora gasps. Reaches out to touch them.

AURORA
Are they real?

JIM
I cut them myself.

She takes them.

AURORA
Thank you.

She looks into his eyes.

AURORA (CONT’D)
For two unlucky people, we got pretty
lucky.

FADE TO BLACK.

SUPER: THREE MONTHS LATER

INT. ELITE DECK - CORRIDOR - DAY

A deep RUMBLE. Jim and Aurora sprint down the hall, cabin
doors flashing by. Jim leading the way.
 68.

JIM
It’s coming! Run!

CELESTIAL PROMENADE

Jim and Aurora run up the stairs onto the highest promenade
on the ship: glass all around, skylight above.

The RUMBLE is louder. A bloody light fills the sky.

A STAR looms ahead of the ship: a RED GIANT. The Excelsior

rockets toward the star.

The passage takes less than a minute. The Red Giant swells in
the windows. The ship shudders. The engines howl. Aurora
falls into Jim’s arms. The ship bathed in red light.

The star fills the skylight, fills the sky itself. A fiery
surface turbulent with sunspots and mysterious currents. The
engines scream.

And then they’re past. The star recedes, dwindling as quickly

as it grew. The engines quiet. The ship’s calm restored.

AURORA
That was incredible.

JIM
Happy birthday.

She throws her arms around him.

STARDOME - XANADU - EVENING

Jim and Aurora dine. They laugh and flirt with easy intimacy.

Their plates emptied, they sit back, sipping wine. Jim lifts
the table’s candle and waves it in the air. A robot rolls up
with a birthday cake, candles alight.

JIM
(singing)
Happy birthday to you...

The robot waiters unexpectedly join in, a tinny chorus. Jim

tries not to laugh as he keeps singing. Aurora just beams.

JIM & ROBOTS

Happy birthday to you...
Happy birthday, dear Aurora...
Happy Birthday to you.

Aurora sits bathed in candlelight, and for this moment she is

truly and fundamentally happy. She blows the candles out.
 69.

GRAND CONCOURSE - CONCOURSE BAR - NIGHT

Jim and Aurora sit at the bar, tipsy. Arthur pours.

ARTHUR
Birthday drink for the birthday girl.

AURORA
Aren’t you going to check my I.D.? I
might not be old enough to drink.

ARTHUR
I’d never ask your age in front of a
gentleman.

AURORA
Jim’s not a gentleman. Anyway there’s
no secrets between me and Jim.

Arthur looks surprised. Turns to Jim inquisitively.

ARTHUR
Is that so?

JIM
(breezily)
You heard the lady. Be right back.

He walks away.

AURORA
You know what I like about you, Arthur?
You have a sense of occasion. I bet
ladies fall for you on every trip.

ARTHUR
I’d say you were pulling my leg, but
I haven’t got any.

AURORA
(laughing)
Exactly! There you go.

ARTHUR
I remember your last birthday, a year
ago. Jim was really looking forward
to meeting you.

Aurora frowns, processing this sentence - her smile fading.

AURORA
What?
 70.

MEN’S WASHROOM

Jim stands at the mirror, touching up his hair.

He pulls a swatch of velvet from his pocket and unwraps a

handmade ring, cunningly woven of gold and silver wire. He
looks it over. Adjusts a curve of wire with his fingernail.

He carefully returns the ring to his pocket.

CONCOURSE BAR

Aurora scowls at Arthur, trying to get her bearings.

AURORA
What do you mean, he was looking
forward to it? How could he...

ARTHUR
He couldn’t stop talking about you!
He spent months deciding whether to
wake you up.

Aurora eyes widen in shock.

AURORA
Jim woke me up.

ARTHUR
Oh, yes. Said it was the hardest
decision of his life, but I see it
worked out just fine.

Aurora stops breathing. She stares at the bartop.

Jim strolls up to the bar. His hand slides into the jacket
pocket where the ring lies hidden.

But Aurora’s body language is all wrong. He stops, perplexed.

JIM
What?

She sits rigid. Jim’s hand slides out of his jacket pocket.

AURORA
Did you wake me up, Jim?

Jim’s hand slides out of his jacket pocket. He shoots a

stricken look at Arthur, who smiles back, oblivious.

Aurora’s eyes bore into him. Finally Jim finds his voice.

JIM
Yes. I woke you up.
 71.

AURORA
(in agony)
How could you do it?

JIM
I tried not to.

AURORA
I’m going to be sick. No. I...I can’t
see.

She gets up to leave. He goes after her.

JIM
Aurora.

AURORA
Get away from me!

CELESTIAL PROMENADE

Aurora paces in front of the windows, breathing hard.

Muttering to herself.

AURORA
(under her breath)
I can’t get off the ship. There’s no
way off the ship.

Jim appears behind her. A reflection in the glass.

JIM
Aurora.

She stops. Turns on him.

AURORA
You bastard. How did you decide?
Thousands of women in their underwear
and you get to pick your favorite.

JIM
It wasn’t like that.

AURORA
No? What was it like, Jim? What?

JIM
I didn’t go looking. It just...
happened. This was real.
(desperately)
Aurora. I love you.

She laughs scornfully.

 72.

AURORA
No you don’t. Show me how you did it.

HIBERNATION BAY - AURORA’S POD

Aurora walks up to her old hibernation pod. Jim trails her.

AURORA
So?

Jim stares at her, unbelieving. But she means it. He opens

the cover panel, points out the key components.

JIM
Short circuit these two contacts, then
these two. And cut these wires.

AURORA
Just like that.

JIM
Just like that.

AURORA
I thought you saved me. But you didn’t
save me, Jim. You did this to me. And
now I’m stuck with you. The second-
rate mechanic who ruined my life.

JIM
(lamely)
Rate two mechanic.

AURORA
You sick bastard.

VIENNA SUITE

Aurora walks in, barely under control. Pacing, furious. Grabs

a lamp and hurls it across the room in a paroxysm of rage.

Instantly a housekeeping robot scoots in from the other room,

sweeps up the broken lamp and zips out again, leaving the
room pristine.

Aurora stares in disbelief at the spotless floor. She breaks

down. Sinks to her knees, wracked by sobs.

HIBERNATION BAY - AURORA’S POD - DAY

Jim sits at the foot of Aurora’s hibernation pod, staring

into the empty tube.
 73.

VIENNA SUITE

Jim walks in. All Aurora’s things are gone. She’s moved out.

CAFETERIA - MORNING

Aurora sits finishing her breakfast. Jim enters and

approaches her table. Her eyes are hard as stone.

JIM
Can I talk to you?

AURORA
I don’t want to talk anymore. I don’t
want to look at you anymore. If you
see me coming, get out of my way. If
you see me sitting, find somewhere
else to be. There’s plenty of
choices. It’s a big boat.

INT. VIENNA SUITE - NIGHT

Jim sleeps alone in the wide bed. Aurora enters. Stands over
Jim in the starlight. Shaking.

Suddenly she explodes into violence. Pummels his sleeping

body with her fists. Animal sounds burst out of her: grunts,
sobs, shouts. Jim curls into a ball under the sheets. Aurora
leaps onto the bed. Delivers a few resounding kicks.

And then she’s gone. The door closes behind her. Jim sits up
painfully, looking after Aurora in amazement.

JIM’S WORKSHOP

Jim sits in front of his laptop. He sports an impressive

black eye. Aurora’s accusing eyes stare out of the screen. He
closes the laptop.

INT. COMMUNICATIONS CENTER - DAY

Jim sits at the security console. Unshaven, his black eye

fading. Twenty screens give different views of the ship.

One screen shows an upper promenade of the Grand Concourse.

As he watches, Aurora jogs by in sneakers and shorts. She
runs out of frame on one screen - and into frame on the next.

Jim is mapping her route.

He looks thoughtfully at the public address microphone.

GRAND CONCOURSE

Aurora circles the atrium on her high promenade.

 74.

OVER THE P.A. SYSTEM: Jim clears his throat.

JIM (VIA INTERCOM)

Aurora.

Aurora stops in surprise, looking up.

JIM (VIA INTERCOM) (CONT’D)

Please...hear me.

Aurora rolls her eyes and resumes running.

COMMUNICATIONS CENTER

Jim watches Aurora move from screen to screen. He grips the

microphone tightly: his voice reverberates through the ship.

JIM
I’m sorry. I was so alone for so long.
It felt like I was disappearing. When
I saw you, the first time I saw you...
everything changed. You saved my life.
You were so beautiful. I kept coming
back. Every day. Just staring at you
in there.

That’s not sounding right. He regroups and starts again.

JIM (CONT’D)
I was trying...trying to know you
through the glass. I read all your
stuff, trying to hear your voice.
When you woke up...

GRAND CONCOURSE

Aurora doesn’t break stride. But she’s listening.

JIM (VIA INTERCOM)

I had no idea what would happen. I
had no reason to believe you’d see
anything in me. When you did, it was
like...I wasn’t trapped anymore.

CONCOURSE BAR

Arthur looks up, listening, as Jim’s voice echoes through the

ship.

JIM (VIA INTERCOM)

My pointless life suddenly had
meaning.
 75.

GRAND CONCOURSE - UPPER PROMENADE

Aurora runs faster now.

JIM (VIA INTERCOM)

Aurora. I don’t want to lose you.

Aurora skids to a stop beside a deck steward’s station. Leans

over the counter and grabs a P.A. microphone. She pivots in
place: spots a security camera. Stares into the lens.

AURORA
Great. I’m glad destroying my life
somehow improved yours. But I don’t
care why you woke me up. I don’t care
how you feel. You’re a murderer. You
don’t want to lose me?! You lost me.

COMMUNICATIONS CENTER

Onscreen: Aurora drops the mic and strides out of frame.

FORWARD OBSERVATION DECK - DAY

Aurora sits reading. A whir distracts her. She looks down.

Jim’s pet robot sits beside her. A note on its back.

She picks up the note. It’s the photo strip from her first
date with Jim: their first kiss captured on film. Clipped to
the photo strip is a handwritten note: “This was real.”

Aurora leans down toward the robot’s binocular eyes.

ROBOT’S POV

Aurora looms close.

AURORA
Watching me through a robot is
creepy, Jim. Cut it out.

She holds the photo strip up to the robot’s eyes and tears it
in two.

FADE TO BLACK.

SUPER: THREE MONTHS LATER

AURORA’S CABIN - MORNING

An alarm clock rings. Aurora rolls out of bed and immediately

begins making the bed. Hospital corners.
 76.

VIENNA SUITE - DAY

Jim lies asleep in his clothes and shoes. Five-day stubble.

Dirty dishes in bed with him. The suite is squalid. A bottle
of vodka on the nightstand.

CAFE MAXINE

The French restaurant. Aurora eats breakfast, reading a

digital novel. A croissant, fruit, a cappuccino.

VIENNA SUITE

Jim still lies asleep. He wakes. Blinks the sleep from his
eyes. Rolls out of bed and straps on his tool belt. Takes a
swig from his vodka bottle. Shuffles out of the room.

SWIMMING POOL - DAY

Aurora stands at the end of the pool in her bathing suit,

toes hanging over the edge. The water is perfectly calm.

The moment grows long. She sighs, heavily, and dives in.

JIM’S WORKSHOP

Jim slouches in a chair beside his workbench, surrounded by

half-assembled robots and machinery.

He toys idly with a chunky microchip, visibly burned out.

Tosses it into a pile of identical chips.

Jim sighs. Looks around.

The cart sits by the door. He looks at the cart. Picks up a

blowtorch off his workbench and snaps it on.

CORRIDOR

Jim stands beside his cart. It’s transformed. Jacked up on

truck tires, a bank of extra batteries. An off-road dragster.

Jim climbs aboard. Lowers a pair of welding goggles over his

eyes. Hits the throttle.

The cart shoots down the straightaway with a wail of rubber.

GRAND CONCOURSE - SHOPPING DISTRICT

Aurora jogs. But her heart’s not in it. She comes to a halt.
Not breathing hard: just sick of running.

A rumble behind her. She looks around.

 77.

GRAND CONCOURSE - SHOPPING DISTRICT

Jim approaches the end of the concourse at high speed. A

daredevil look on his face. He prepares to take the turn.

He squeals around a corner - and finds Aurora right in his

path. He dodges wildly and disappears down a stairwell. A
long series of horrible crashing sounds.

Stunned, Aurora takes a step toward the stairs. Hesitates.

Turns away and resumes jogging.

INFIRMARY

Jim lies in the autodoc - his head protruding, his body

visible behind glass. Lasers and sensors pass over him.

AUTODOC
Two separated ribs. Sprain of the
right elbow. One dislocated thumb.

JIM
Am I gonna be okay?

Blindingly fast, robotic hands straighten Jim’s arm. Wrap his

ribs and arm with white bandages. Jim shouts in shock.

AUTODOC
Leave the bandages on for one week.

The autodoc opens and Jim climbs out, testing his arm.

JIM
Thanks, doc.

He heads out.

AUTODOC
And take better care of yourself.

CONCOURSE BAR - EVENING

Aurora sits at the bar in front of a martini.

AURORA
I envy you.

ARTHUR
How so?

AURORA
You have a purpose. You’re always
happy. You don’t want anything you
can’t have.
 78.

ARTHUR
Sure. But you’ve got legs.

Aurora laughs bleakly.

ARTHUR (CONT’D)
How’s the book coming along?

AURORA
Fine. I’m working on it.
(she sighs)
Is this it, Arthur? Am I going to be
sitting here in thirty years,
drinking martinis and telling you how
chapter three hundred twelve is
going? I’ll never make it. I’m not
sure I can handle next week. I’m so
tired. Tired of fighting myself.

ARTHUR
What are you fighting yourself about?

Aurora shoots Arthur a naked look, as if the question cuts

deep. But she doesn’t answer.

JIM (O.S.)
Arturo!

Jim walks in, his arm bandaged. Looks at Aurora in surprise.

JIM (CONT’D)
Tuesday’s my day with Arthur.

AURORA
Today’s Wednesday.

JIM
I slept through Tuesday?

A spasm of emotion in Aurora’s face. She hardens.

AURORA
You’re pathetic. The bar’s all yours.

She spins off her stool and stalks away. Jim watches her go.
Sits down and drains her martini at a gulp.

JIM
I’m in hell.

ARTHUR
How so?
 79.

JIM
I woke her up, and I can’t take it
back. Can’t send her home. Can’t put
her back to sleep. That’s my whole
life. Everything’s broken and I can’t
fix it.

ARTHUR
You said you could fix anything.

JIM
I did?

ARTHUR
Well. You were drunk.

JIM
What do I do, Arthur? What am I
supposed to do?

ARTHUR
What humans always do.

JIM
What’s that?

ARTHUR
Improvise.

PARIS SUITE

Aurora looks through a collection of snapshots. Aurora’s

farewell party. She touches them one by one. They begin to
move and speak. Good wishes. Laughter and cheers.

Finally only one snapshot still plays. Aurora’s mother.

AURORA’S MOTHER
I promise we’ll think of you every
day. When you wake up, I know we’ll
be gone. But you just know that we
lived our lives remembering you, and
holding you in our hearts.
(She starts to cry.)
You were never happy here. Nothing was
ever enough for you. I know.
(She tries to soldier.)
I hope you find what you’re looking
for. I hope it makes you happy.

Aurora watches, devastated.

 80.

GRAND CONCOURSE - MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT

Jim is in the middle of some inscrutable work. A manual lies

open nearby. He’s diagrammed a wide square on the deck in
chalk, with markers for electrical conduits and beams.

Aurora walks down a promenade above him like a sleepwalker in

her nightgown. Her hair half-unravelled, her face drawn.

She stops at the railing. Looks down at Jim. He sees her. Her
eyes meet his. Flicker over his diagram. Then she walks away.

Jim watches her go. Turns back to his diagram. Pulls the
laser cutter from his belt, switches it on. Kneels and starts
cutting through the steel deck plates.

HIBERNATION BAY - NIGHT

Aurora walks down a row of sleepers in her nightgown, looking

at their faces. She stops in front of an empty pod. Her own.

On impulse she stoops and pulls at the canopy. It opens.

Aurora steps into the empty pod.

She curls up on the floor. Leans back. Closes her eyes. Tears
run down her cheeks in the dim light.

CONCOURSE BAR - DAY

Jim, in work clothes and tool belt, drops by the bar. He’s as
dirty as a coal miner but he looks happy.

JIM
Morning, Arthur. Coffee.

ARTHUR
Coming up. Are you getting my
barstool dirty?

JIM
Yeah. Got to get dirty to get things
done.

ARTHUR

And what have you been doing?

Jim takes a sip of his coffee.

JIM
Improvising.
 81.

GRAND CONCOURSE - ELITE PROMENADE - DAY

Aurora strolls listlessly. Glances over the railing at the

Grand Concourse below - and gasps.

GRAND CONCOURSE

A fifteen-foot OAK TREE has been planted in the middle of the

Concourse, surrounded by a bed of new grass.

Aurora walks up, wide-eyed with wonder. Reaches out like a

dreamer to touch the smooth bark of the tree.

FADE TO BLACK.

SUPER: THREE WEEKS LATER

INT. ELEVATOR - DAY

Jim descends in an elevator. He wears dirty work clothes and

carries half a robot under his arm. Soothing music plays.

The elevator jerks to a halt. The music stops. Jim looks up

in confusion. The lights go out. Auxiliary lights come on.

Jim punches buttons. Nothing.

He pulls out his multitool. Pries at the doors.

EXT. ELEVATOR

Jim squirms out head-first between the elevator doors,

several feet above the floor. Climbs to his feet.

As soon as he’s out, the elevator chimes. The doors open: the
car at floor level, music back on. Jim stares at the elevator
indignantly.

CAFETERIA

Aurora walks in wearing slippers and pajamas. Her hair in a

ponytail. She shuffles up to the food machines. Hits buttons.

The cereal machine releases an avalanche of breakfast cereal.

Aurora backs away in alarm. The flood of cereal continues.

A sudden burst of static from the P.A. system.

VOICE (VIA P.A.)

This is Deck Chief Gus Mancuso.

Aurora spins around in shock.

 82.

EXT. ELEVATOR

Jim stares up at the P.A. speaker in amazement.

VOICE (VIA P.A.)

Who the hell planted a tree on my ship?

The Grand Concourse! Jim sprints away down the corridor.

GRAND CONCOURSE

GUS MANCUSO stands at a deck steward’s station, intercom mic

in hand. A stocky man of 55, with a bristling mustache,
wearing a crewman’s coverall. Haggard and weary. He stares in
consternation at the garden in the middle of the Concourse.

Jim and Aurora race into the Concourse from opposite

directions - Jim in his work clothes, Aurora in her pajamas.
They see Gus and stop, dumbstruck.

Jim and Aurora race into the Concourse from opposite

directions - Jim in his work clothes, Aurora in her pajamas.
They see Gus and stop, dumbstruck.

GUS
(pointing at the tree)
Who did that?

Jim raises a hand sheepishly. Gus shakes his head.

GUS (CONT’D)
I can’t even talk about that now. Who
are you?

JIM
Jim Preston.

AURORA
Aurora. Aurora Dunn.

GUS
Gus Mancuso. Nice to meet you.
Anybody else awake?

AURORA
No. Just me and him.

GUS
How long you been up?

AURORA
A year.

JIM
Two years.
 83.

GUS
Ouch.
(looks them in the eye)
You know what it means, right?
There’s no way back into hibernation.

AURORA
We know.

GUS
How far along are we?

JIM
Thirty-two years. Eighty-eight years
to go.

Gus blows air.

GUS
That’s tough.
(he shakes his head)
Hibernation failure! They said it
couldn’t happen. Now three on one trip.

Aurora shoots Jim a look. Gus doesn’t notice.

GUS (CONT’D)
Well, let’s see how bad things are.

COMMAND DECK

Gus leads Jim and Aurora to the Bridge’s armored hatch.

JIM
You have no idea how long I’ve been
trying to get in there.

Gus swipes his crew card through the lock and the door opens.

GUS
Now you’re in. Don’t touch anything.

BRIDGE

The computer consoles of the Bridge brighten as they enter.

Gus walks from station to station, studying the screens.

AURORA
Is this where you work?

GUS
No, this is flight crew. I’m just a
deck chief. But I can read the
instruments. We’re on course.
(MORE)
 84.

GUS (CONT'D)
Whatever’s wrong with the ship,
NavComp’s still minding the store.

JIM
Something’s wrong with the ship?

GUS
Three pod failures? Something’s
wrong. Question is what.

He turns to leave.

AURORA
Wait. What about turning the ship
around? Can’t we go back to Earth?

Gus almost laughs.

GUS
We’re doing forty percent of
lightspeed! Turning back would take
as long as keeping on.

AURORA
There has to be a way.

GUS
Sorry. We’re going where we’re going.

Jim looks at Aurora: she’s visibly crestfallen. Gus breaks

into a racking cough.

JIM
You okay?

GUS
I always get a hibernation hangover,
but this one’s bad.

GRAND CONCOURSE

Gus walks with Jim at his elbow, Aurora following.

GUS
Two years! Any other trees I should
know about?

AURORA
Look out!

She leaps forward and pulls Gus back.

Crash! A window-washing robot plummets from a high promenade

and shatters on the deck - narrowly missing Jim.
 85.

Gus lays a hand on Aurora’s shoulder.

GUS
Thanks, darlin’.

The robot lies buzzing and twitching. Gus looks at Jim.

GUS (CONT'D)
You almost bought the farm!
(looks down at the robot)
Never seen a thing like that. You?

JIM
Not like that. But robots have been
breaking down. This guy makes
fifteen.

GUS
Fifteen?!

AURORA
The breakfast bar went crazy today.

JIM
And an elevator.

GUS
What?

AURORA
My door broke last week. I was
trapped in my cabin for two days.

JIM
(astonished)
You were?

She just looks at him.

GUS
This is all bad news.

GRAND CONCOURSE - TECH STATION

Gus leads Jim and Aurora up to a steel pillar set in the

Concourse wall. Presses a latch. The pillar swings open,
revealing a diagnostic console. A tech station.

GUS
All right. There’s sixteen of these
tech stations on every deck.
(pointing)
Atmosphere panel. Electrics panel.
Robot control node. Data net. Got it?
 86.

Jim and Aurora nod, not sure where he’s going.

GUS (CONT’D)
Status lights on each unit. Green
light good. Red light bad. No light
really bad.
(to Aurora)
You walk decks one and two.
(to Jim)
You walk three and four. Check the
lights and record what you find.

He hands them each an electronic slate.

GUS (CONT’D)
You get the idea?

JIM
Yeah.

AURORA
Okay. Got it.

GUS
I’m going down to the Hibernation
Bay. Take a look at our pods.

Jim and Aurora exchange glances.

AURORA
That should be interesting.

HIBERNATION BAY - AURORA’S POD - DAY

Gus kneels in front of the pod, examining the mechanism. He

doesn’t look well: sweating and panting as he works.

Something he sees inside the machine makes him forget his

discomfort. He stares, astonished.

GUS
I’ll be damned.

A sound behind him. Gus turns to find Jim, an electronic

slate in his hands.

GUS (CONT’D)
You’re supposed to be making your
rounds.

JIM
I finished.

Gus looks from Jim to the pod mechanism and back again.
 87.

GUS
I looked at your pod. Very simple.
The clock chip’s burned out. Not
supposed to happen, but it’s simple.

Jim fidgets. Starts to speak. Gus cuts him off.

GUS (CONT’D)
My pod was complicated. A bunch of
failures all at once. Whole thing
went haywire. I think that’s why I
feel so bad.
(points at Aurora’s pod)
But this pod...

JIM
Gus...

GUS
You did this.

JIM
Yeah.

GUS
I was thinking what a lucky son of a
bitch you were, stuck with a beauty
like Aurora. But it wasn’t luck.

JIM
No.

Gus sits down heavily, looking at Jim.

GUS
She knows?

JIM
She knows.

GUS
I could see there was some trouble
between you. Damn.
(he shakes his head)
How long were you alone?

JIM
A year.

Gus takes that in.

GUS
Still...
 88.

JIM
I know.

Jim quietly lays his electronic slate down beside Gus. Gus
starts putting his tools away.

GUS’S WORKSTATION

A deck chief’s workroom, dominated by a display table for

viewing maps and data.

Gus stands looking at a holographic map of the starship.

Breakdowns appear as red markers: dozens, on multiple decks.

Gus works with a stylus: plucking information from the slate

Jim gave him and posting it on the map: a new red marker
forms everywhere he touches.

Suddenly he coughs painfully. Leans heavily on the display.

GUS
You and me, old girl, we’re not doing
so hot.

Aurora enters with a digital slate. Gus straightens quickly.

She hands over her slate. Gus scans the page.

GUS (CONT’D)
Same as Jim’s. Breakdowns in every
system. No connection between them.

AURORA
You saw the hibernation pods?

GUS
Yeah.

AURORA
So you know. What Jim did.

Gus looks at Aurora. He doesn’t want to get into this.

GUS
Yeah.

AURORA
And?

She waits, trembling with righteous indignation. Gus looks

away uncomfortably.

GUS
It’s not my business.
 89.

AURORA
He woke me up! He took away my life.
He let me believe...he made me...

GUS
I know. I can’t defend it. But...
(he shrugs helplessly)
Look. A drowning man drags somebody
down with him, you don’t call it
right. But he’s drowning. A starving
man steals a loaf of bread, what can
you say? You should have starved?

AURORA
I would have starved.

Gus looks at her solemnly.

GUS
Maybe you would have.

She stands hunched in front of him, misery plain on her face.

Gus looks at her. Steps forward hesitantly and takes her by

the shoulders. She huddles in his arms, fists under her chin.

Jim enters carrying a broken robot - it twitches in his arms.

JIM
This one makes sixteen.

He stops, seeing Gus and Aurora. Aurora steps away from Gus.
Suddenly no one knows where to look. The crippled robot
twitches again in Jim’s arms.

GUS
How about we get a drink.

CONCOURSE BAR - EVENING

Gus leads Jim and Aurora up to the bar.

ARTHUR
Chief Mancuso. Good to see you again.

GUS
Nice to see you too, Arthur. The
usual.

AURORA
Me too.

JIM
Me too.
 90.

They sit at the bar - Gus in the middle. Arthur sets a

different drink in front of each of them. A beat of awkward
silence, which Aurora deliberately breaks.

AURORA
Where you from, Gus?

GUS
Chicago. But I’ve lived aboard ship a
long time. The Excelsior’s made five
inter-planetary runs, and I’ve been
on every one.

JIM
How old does that make you?

GUS
Fifty-six.

JIM
But how long ago were you born?

GUS
Oh. Hang on...
(he does mental math)
About six hundred years ago. Most of
that I lost to hibernation or
relativity. Doesn’t count. When I was
sixteen I lied about my age and got
on a lunar shuttle crew. A few years
later I moved on to planetary ships.
Made the Venus run a hundred times.
Jupiter. Saturn. Then the gravity
drive came along. Real spaceflight. I
did everything I could to get onto an
interstellar ship. I was thirty-six
years old the first time I saw an
alien sun. No going back after that.
I’ve walked on seventeen planets in
five solar systems.

JIM
That’s incredible.

AURORA
Don’t you feel homeless?

GUS
I’m a spacer. My home is where I am.
You can’t take much with you, so you
don’t get hung up on things. You have
yourself. The things you do. The
company you keep.
 91.

His hands begin to tremble. He fumbles his glass, spilling

liquor. Arthur swoops in and wipes up the spill with a smile.

AURORA
Are you okay?

Gus clasps his shaking hands together to still them - a

startled look in his eye.

GUS
I woke up hard.

AURORA
You should rest.

GUS
I think I will. Tomorrow morning,
eight bells. At that tree of yours.

Gus gives them a wave and walks off - leaving Jim and Aurora
awkwardly together, an empty stool between them. They stare
into their drinks. Look at each other.

JIM
(hesitantly)
How are you?

AURORA
Stranded on a starship.

She rises and walks away.

GUS’S CABIN

Gus leans on his desk, coughing into a handkerchief - leaving

the cloth spotted with blood.

INT. AURORA’S CABIN - MORNING

Aurora wakes. Rolls over and looks at the clock. It’s seven.

CORRIDOR

Aurora emerges from her cabin in a robe. Pads down the hall.

GRAND CONCOURSE

Jim strolls in his work clothes, restless. Tool belt around

his waist. A robot rolls past with a strange hitch in its
drive. Malfunctioning. He frowns thoughtfully.

SWIMMING POOL

In a bathing suit, Aurora dives into the pool, cleaving the

water cleanly and striking out in a crawl stroke.
 92.

She reaches the end of the lane. Kick-turns and swims back...

...and the gravity cuts out.

The pool heaves itself into weird humps and tentacles. Aurora
flounders in the weightless water, trying not to drown.

GRAND CONCOURSE (ZERO GRAVITY)

In mid-stride Jim floats off the floor with a gasp of

astonishment. He flails for a handhold and misses. Rises
weightless into the atrium.

GUS’S CABIN (ZERO GRAVITY)

Gus snores, flat on his back. His blankets are tucked in

tight: he stays in bed. Only his arms float off the mattress.

SWIMMING POOL (ZERO GRAVITY)

Aurora struggles inside a huge glob of water, desperate for

air. In zero-gravity the water becomes a clinging syrup
impossible to escape.

GRAND CONCOURSE (ZERO GRAVITY)

Jim rises past the third-floor promenade. Terrifyingly high.

He unbuckles his tool belt. Hurls it away with all his power.

The recoil sends him drifting slowly toward the promenade

railings. He reaches for the fourth-floor railing - and the
GRAVITY COMES BACK ON.

Jim goes into free-fall. Catches the third-floor railing and

slams into the wall, dangling above the Grand Concourse.

SWIMMING POOL

Aurora falls. Tons of water crash down into the pool in a

thundering torrent. She splashes to the surface, gasping for
air. Eyes wide with shock.

CORRIDOR

Jim strides down the hall. He has a nosebleed: he holds a

cloth to his nose.

An elevator opens ahead of him. Aurora bursts out, looking

shaken. Her hair is wet, her clothing damp. She sees Jim.

AURORA
The gravity went away. I was in the
pool.
 93.

JIM
You okay?

Aurora shoots Jim a furious look. They arrive at Gus’s door.

She knocks forcefully.

AURORA
Gus!

GUS’S CABIN

The pounding wakes Gus from a deep sleep.

He rises, groggy and weak. Opens his door. Sees Jim and
Aurora outside: Aurora damp, Jim blotting a bloody nose.

GUS
What have the two of you been doing?

INDUSTRIAL CORRIDOR

A service corridor below the passenger decks. Gus, Jim, and

Aurora emerge from an elevator. Gus is weak but determined.

GUS
Sounds like we lost the number three
gravity generator.

INDUSTRIAL CORRIDOR - #3 GRAVITY GENERATOR

A massive humming machine. Jim and Aurora look at it in awe.

AURORA
How can that happen?

GUS
That’s a good question.

Gus opens up a control panel: red warning lights glow among

the green ones. He points at a dark module.

GUS (CONT’D)
Son of a gun. Control computer’s
burned out.

Jim frowns thoughtfully at the gravity generator.

JIM
If this thing’s burned out, why’s the
gravity back on?

GUS
Everything’s networked. Number three
went down, so number two and number
four picked up the slack.
(MORE)
 94.

GUS (CONT'D)
But now they’re working too hard, so
maybe they go down too. We’ve got to
get number three back up.

AURORA
Let’s do that.

CARGO BAY - SHIP’S STORES

Jim brings the cart to a stop at a massive door labeled

SHIP’S STORES. Gus rides shotgun; Aurora in back.

GUS
Replacements down here for just about
everything.

Gus climbs stiffly out of the cart. Cards the door. It opens
on a vast warehouse of pristine white cartons with Homestead
Company logos. All labeled in bold print.

SHIP’S STORES

Jim pilots the cart down a long aisle.

GUS
Pull over there.

The cart squeals to a halt.

Gus hauls himself up, breathing hard. Approaches a stack of

shelves and hits a button. A lift slides along the rack and
stops beside him. Gus steps aboard.

GUS (CONT’D)
Be right back.

He touches a control and vanishes upward.

INDUSTRIAL CORRIDOR - #3 GRAVITY GENERATOR

A big white carton sits on the cart’s cargo deck. Jim slides
a computer module out of the carton.

Gus leans on the cart, mopping his brow.

Jim punches a release button. The burned-out module slides

out of the generator. He unbolts it. Shoves it aside. Gus
watches with keen interest.

GUS
Polaris multitool. You a pro?

Jim slides the new module into place. Bolts it down.

 95.

JIM
Rate-two mechanic.

He punches the release. The generator draws the new module

in. It lights up immediately with a reassuring hum.

AURORA
Won’t it just burn out again?

JIM
It’s a brand new unit.

AURORA
But why’d it burn out in the first
place? We haven’t done anything about
the real problem.

Gus coughs hard. Wipes his mouth on his sleeve.

GUS
Girl’s got a point.

GUS’S WORKSTATION

Gus, Jim and Aurora stand at the display table. A holographic

map of the ship between them, with its swarm of red markers.

Gus peers intently at the map - shaky and damp with sweat.

GUS
Been too busy looking at what broke
to think about how it broke. But
look. Every failure is a burned-out
processor. Everything on board is
thinking too hard. Why?

He touches one marker after another, reading the text that

pops up: diagnostic data.

GUS (CONT’D)
All over the ship, all different
systems. There’s no pattern.

AURORA
What about when they happened? Can you
look at this over time?

Gus touches the table’s controls.

A graph appears, showing the failures over time: a sudden

spike. Then a rising curve. A trickle that swells into a
flood. Jim and Aurora look at each other through the display.
 96.

GUS
(horrified)
It’s a cascade failure.

AURORA
A what?

GUS
Cascade. Look.
(he touches the graph)
It started two years ago. Power
surge. Fourteen failures in one day.
Including hibernation pod 1498.

JIM
That’s me.

GUS
That’s you. Something big failed.
Failed hard. So everything else on
the ship picked up the load.

Gus traces the shallow part of the curve with his finger.

GUS (CONT’D)
But the load’s too heavy. After a
while, little things start burning
out. Robots. Infomats.

His finger rides up the rising curve of the graph.

GUS (CONT’D)
Now it’s the big players. Hibernation.
Gravity. Life support. If we don’t stop
it...

He traces the climbing curve to the top.

AURORA
I’m stranded on a sinking ship?

GUS
Whatever happened two years ago,
that’s the key. Gotta find the
source.

JIM
Where do we look?

GUS
There’s only a few things big enough
to put this kind of load on the ship.
 97.

ENGINEERING SECTION FIREWALL

A massive bulkhead, striped with warning signs. An armored

door labeled ENGINEERING SECTION leads inside.

Jim drives up in the cart - Gus riding shotgun, Aurora in

back. Gus leans out with difficulty, drawn and weak. Swipes
his crew card through the lock. The door opens.

ENGINEERING SECTION - ELECTRICAL PLANT

A platform overlooks a vast industrial space filled with

transformers and rectifiers, buzzing with power.

The cart rolls in and stops on the platform. Jim and Aurora
look in awe at the massive machinery. Gus rises from the cart
with a sudden access of vigor. Stands at the railing.

GUS
(hoarsely)
Now this is a starship.

He sags against the railing and falls. Hits the deck hard.

JIM & AURORA

Gus!

INFIRMARY

Gus lies in a medical scanner. Jim and Aurora watch as the

machine bathes Gus in light, sensors floating over his body.

GUS
What does it say is wrong with me?

The scanner’s display screen lists not one diagnosis, but

hundreds: disorders, diseases, dysfunctions.

JIM
(hiding his horror)
It’s a few things.

MEDICAL SCANNER
Diagnosis complete.

Gus hauls himself out of the scanner. Pulls a bathrobe on and

comes around to look at the screen. He sees it and blanches.

MEDICAL SCANNER (CONT’D)

Six hundred twelve disorders found.

GUS
What’s the summary?
 98.

MEDICAL SCANNER
Pan-systemic necrosis. Progressive
organ failure. Cause unknown.

GUS
(losing his temper)
I’ll tell you the cause. My goofy
hibernation pod is the cause.

AURORA
What’s the treatment?

MEDICAL SCANNER
No treatment known.

They exchange troubled looks. Gus pivots the monitor so that

only he can see the screen.

GUS
Prognosis.

A series of images flickers over the screen, casting shadows

on his face. Gus swallows hard and looks away.

GUS (CONT’D)
How long have I got?

Pill bottles clatter into a metal bin. Gus looks at them.

MEDICAL SCANNER
These sedatives will alleviate
suffering in these final hours.

Gus walks out. Jim and Aurora hurry after him.

CORRIDOR

Jim and Aurora find Gus already walking away. They fall into
step on each side of him.

AURORA
Maybe it’s not true. It’s just a
machine.

GUS
State-of-the-art machine. Anyway, I
can feel it happening.

JIM
Gus...

AURORA
Where are you going?
 99.

GUS
(through clenched teeth)
My cabin. I need a minute.

He waves them away and walks off. They watch him go.

GUS’S CABIN

He studies himself grimly in the mirror: gaunt and sickly.

Suddenly he pounds both his fists on the dresser top in a
burst of rage.

GUS
Damn it!

He leans on the dresser, breathing hard.

He pulls his closet open. Inside hangs his dress uniform - a

sharp-creased suit of navy blue, the chest brimming with
medals and ribbons. Stars and planets.

EXT. GUS’S CABIN - DAY

Aurora presses the doorbell and raps on the door. No answer.

AURORA
Gus! Gus!

Beside her, Jim uses his multitool to remove the cover plate
of Gus’s door switch. Twists wires. The door opens.

INT. GUS’S CABIN

Jim and Aurora rush inside - and find the room empty. They
look around in surprise.

JIM
Where would he be?

FORWARD OBSERVATION DECK

Jim and Aurora find Gus sitting in an armchair in his dress

blues. A lonely figure staring out at the vast sweep of
space. They rush to him.

AURORA
Gus! Are you all right?

Gus looks up at them. Speaks in a whisper.

GUS
Hurts. Should have taken the damn
pills.
 100.

JIM
I’ll get them.

GUS
No. Just sit with me.

Aurora sits beside Gus. Takes his hand. Jim pulls up a chair.
Gus gazes out at the cosmos. His voice is reedy and thin.

GUS (CONT’D)
Space is a funny thing to love. When
you’re young, the stars are always
out of reach. Then you get on a
spaceship and get up there. But
you’re still looking out through a
wall of glass. So you put on a
spacesuit and go outside. But you’re
still wearing gloves, still looking
through glass at something you can’t
ever touch. Hard way to fall in love.

A long breath rattles out of him. He takes his shipcard from

his pocket. Hands it to Jim.

GUS (CONT’D)
My shipcard. It’ll get you where you
need to go. Jim. Fix the ship.

JIM
I will.

GUS
You two. Take care of each other.

He turns to Aurora, slow and frail.

GUS (CONT’D)
How do I look?

Tears stream down Aurora’s cheeks. She smiles at him.

AURORA
You look magnificent.

Gus’s head falls back on the headrest.

GUS
(whispering)
Ladies love the dress blues.

A breath sighs out of him, and he’s gone.

Jim looks at Aurora. Her face shines with tears. She still
holds Gus’s hand.
 101.

INT. AIRLOCK

Gus lies on the deck in his dress uniform, hands folded on

his chest. His eyes closed peacefully. Jim stands beside him,
wearing a spacesuit.

Jim hits a button. The airlock opens. The gravity cuts out.
Gus floats off the floor. Jim drops to one knee beside him.

EXT. AIRLOCK

Aurora stands watching through the porthole. She sees Jim

guide Gus out through the door into the dark night of space.

EXT. STARSHIP EXCELSIOR

Gus drifts away among the stars. An endless silence.

EXT. AIRLOCK

Aurora watches as the outer airlock door closes. Jim turns to

look at her. Their eyes meet. She turns and walks away.

CONCOURSE BAR

Aurora arrives. Slouches onto a barstool. Utterly forlorn.

AURORA
Arthur, Gus is gone.

ARTHUR
Who?

AURORA
Gus! He’s dead.

ARTHUR
Well, no point crying over bridges
before they’re hatched.

AURORA
What?

ARTHUR
So what’ll it be, passenger?

AURORA
“Passenger?” It’s me!

Arthur’s smile widens into a rictus grin. His head twitches.

AURORA (CONT’D)
Arthur?
 102.

Arthur slams forward across the bar with horrible violence -

rictus grin frozen on his face - and lies inert, staring.

Aurora backs away in horror into the...

GRAND CONCOURSE

Blue light floods the scene. Aurora looks up. The Concourse
lights begin to race through their daily cycle - dawn to dusk
to dawn in seconds. And then -

Darkness as the Concourse lights fail completely. Aurora

gasps in fear. She backs up to take in the scene,
hyperventilating - and something grabs her. She screams.

Auxiliary lights come on - dim spotlights all over the

Concourse. Aurora stands in Jim’s arms.

He releases her gently. Tool belt over his shoulder and

rigged for work.

JIM
Aurora.

Aurora’s relief is obvious - but she steps back from him.

Collects herself.

AURORA
It’s still spreading. It got Arthur.

JIM
I’m going down to Engineering. See if
I can fix it.

AURORA
Just like that.

JIM
I know you don’t want to talk to me,
or even be around me. But...

AURORA
You want me to come.

JIM
Yeah.

They look at each other across ten feet of air. Both scared.

AURORA
Okay.
 103.

ENGINEERING SECTION FIREWALL

Jim and Aurora arrive at the Engineering Section’s armored

door. Aurora carries an electronic slate.

AURORA
What are we even looking for?

Jim swipes Gus’s card through the switch. The door opens on a
thundering darkness lit by flashing red emergency lights. A
flickering labyrinth.

JIM
Something broken. Something big.

ENGINEERING SECTION - ELECTRICAL PLANT

A harrowing gauntlet of electrical equipment. Jim and Aurora

move through the plant, dwarfed by the scale.

ENGINEERING SECTION - PROPULSION

Jim and Aurora stand under a titanic metal cone surrounded by

complex machinery. A stencilled label reads STARBOARD ENGINE.
Jim inspects a panel of indicator lights.

AURORA
Is it broken?

JIM
Seems okay. What’s next?

Aurora looks at the map on her electronic slate.

AURORA
Power plant. This way.

INDUSTRIAL PASSAGEWAY - FIRST DOOR

They arrive at a closed hatch. Jim swipes Gus’s shipcard

through the lock. It flashes red and refuses to open. Jim
frowns. Tries again. No luck.

AURORA
What’s the matter?

JIM
Can’t get in.
(perplexed)
Gus’s card should open any door.

AURORA
Try again.

He tries it again. No effect. Aurora studies her map.

 104.

AURORA (CONT’D)
We’ll go around.

INDUSTRIAL PASSAGEWAY - SECOND DOOR

Another door. Jim swipes Gus’s card: again the lock flashes
red and refuses to open.

JIM
The whole section’s closed off.
Something’s up.

AURORA
Isn’t that what we’re looking for?
Open it.

Jim raises his multitool and removes the cover plate of the
door switch. Connects two contacts inside.

The door opens.

A howling gale drags Jim and Aurora inside.

INT. BREACHED COMPARTMENT

Aurora and Jim tumble inside. The wind slams them together.
Batters them against the deck. Jim falls on top of Aurora.

They gasp for breath. Wind rages around them.

They look up in horror at a puncture in the hull. It’s a head-

sized hole punched through from outside, jagged edges
pointing inward. Air screams out into space.

The door starts to slide shut behind them.

Jim scrambles toward it, fighting the wind. Dives into the
doorway. It clamps down painfully on his arm and shoulder -
preventing it from closing. Air blasts in through the crack.

Aurora lies gasping on the deck under the hole.

JIM
Aurora!

He kicks her fallen slate across the deck to her.

Aurora lunges for the slate. Rises to her knees and slams it
over the hole.

Air pressure pins it there. Wind whistles through the cracks.

The pressure comes up. The door slides open, releasing Jim.
 105.

He rips an emergency foamer from the wall and sprays epoxy

foam over the puncture. The foam hardens instantly, sealing
the hull breach and cementing the slate in place.

They look at each other, catching their breath.

JIM (CONT’D)
You okay?

AURORA
There’s a hole in the ship.

JIM
More than one.

He points. On the opposite wall, another puncture leads

deeper into the starship.

INT. MACHINE ROOM

Jim and Aurora enter cautiously. They see yet another hole,
leading deeper into the ship.

JIM
(deadpan)
This is bad.

INT. CORRIDOR

Steel girders march down the corridor wall. A blackened hole

pierces every girder.

Jim and Aurora walk the passageway, staring at the damage. An

ominous rumble grows louder as they go.

AURORA
What the hell is that?

They arrive at the end of the corridor. There’s a hole

punched through a door marked FUSION REACTOR. Fiery light
shines out. The deep rumble is louder here.

They exchange a look. Jim cards the door. Ruddy light bathes
their faces as the door opens.

REACTOR CONTROL ROOM

Jim and Aurora enter. Sweat rises instantly on their faces.

The room is blistering. Metal creaks in the heat.

To one side, the reactor’s massive console. It’s in chaos.

Displays full of static, red lights flashing. TEMPERATURE
CRITICAL. CONTAINMENT UNSTABLE.
 106.

To the other side, a long narrow window looks into the

reactor itself. Inside, a caged sun rages at its bonds. On
the verge of meltdown.

In front of them, a hole is blasted in the console. A meteor -

a pitted orb of iron - lodged deep in a computer module.

They stand terrified in the middle of the chaos.

AURORA
I guess we found it.

JIM
Yeah. Guess we did.

Aurora edges up to the blasted console.

AURORA
Can you fix this? I thought you were
more of a robots-and-refrigerators
guy.
(she looks at the reactor)
We’re going to die.

Jim joins her, surveying the damage.

JIM
(hopefully)
There’s replacements for everything.
(looks at the reactor)
Or...we’re going to die.

CARGO HOLD

Jim and Aurora roll through the stacks in the cart, reading
the labeled shelves.

SHIP’S STORES

Aurora stands beside the cart, looking up. Jim descends into
frame on a lift. A crate beside him. Jim grins.

JIM
Got it.

REACTOR CONTROL ROOM

Jim stands sweating in front of the console, multitool in

hand. Sizing up the job. The replacement module sits waiting,
ready to install.

The ruined module is still in place: a few lights flicker on

its displays. Aurora looks anxiously at it.
 107.

AURORA
Is that thing still running?

JIM
I don’t know. Barely.

AURORA
(nervously)
Maybe we shouldn’t do this. Maybe
it’ll be okay.
(off Jim’s look)
Okay, okay. Do it.

Jim goes to work. His multitool whines - unfastening the

lockbolts that hold the module in place.

He pulls on the module. It won’t come out.

He looks into the crater: the meteor pins the module in

place. He pries at the meteor with his multitool. It shifts.

Jim grips the meteor and strains. It tears free. He stumbles

back, the meteor in his hands.

Electricity arcs inside the damaged module.

The reactor roars. The caged sun swells and reddens,

scorching the walls of its chamber.

JIM
No!

Jim drops the rock. Drags the old module from its socket.

He grabs the replacement module. Aurora joins him. Together

they wrestle the new module into place. Jim bolts it down.
Slams it home. It lights up.

For the first time in two years the reactor is whole. Static
vanishes from the displays. Flickering lights go steady.

An electronic buzz resolves into a soothing voice:

ANNOUNCER
Warning. Temperature critical.
Reaction mass limit exceeded. Venting
reactor.

They turn to the reactor window. A deafening boom makes both

of them duck and cringe.

ANNOUNCER (CONT’D)
Vent fail. Manual override required.
 108.

An emergency control station rises out of the console: a

cluster of instruments beside a chunky red lever.

AURORA
But we fixed it!

ANNOUNCER
Vent reactor. Manual override required.

Jim goes to the vent station. Grips the red lever. Looks at
Aurora and hauls the lever down.

A deafening BOOM.

ANNOUNCER (CONT’D)
Reactor vent fail. Vent tube door...

JIM
Come on!

Jim pulls the lever again. BOOM.

ANNOUNCER
Reactor vent fail. Vent tube door non-
responsive.

A holographic image appears above the console, showing a

schematic of the fusion reactor: the vent tube leading out
into space. The tube is sealed by a massive door.

The door flashes red.

Jim touches the hologram. It zooms in on the vent tube door.

Jim studies the mechanism - the light painting his face.

JIM
It’s a door. I can open a door.

Aurora looks at the hologram. Looks at Jim.

AURORA
How?

INT. ENGINEERING SECTION - MAINTENANCE AIRLOCK

An industrial airlock surrounded by cabinets and storage

lockers. A window looks out on the stars.

Jim pulls on a spacesuit as Aurora watches in disbelief. Jim

is scared but putting on a brave face.

AURORA
Do you know what you’re doing?

Jim takes a deep breath. Steadies himself.

 109.

JIM
I open the door. I get clear. You
vent the reactor.

He’s struggling with the suit. Aurora helps him seal it up.
He slings his tool belt over his shoulder.

AURORA
You “get clear?” What happens to you
when that door opens?

Jim ponders that. He grabs his laser cutter and cuts the door
off the spacesuit locker.

He hefts the heavy steel door on his arm.

AURORA (CONT’D)
What are you doing?

JIM
Heat shield.
(off her appalled look)
It might help.

He lugs the door to the airlock. Leans it against the wall.

Aurora watches him in dawning realization.

AURORA
You’re going to die out there, aren’t
you.

JIM
I’m hoping not.

Aurora picks up his helmet and stands in front of him. For a

moment they stare at each other.

AURORA
I can’t live on this ship by myself.

JIM
It’s going to be okay.

Jim gives Aurora a handset communicator.

JIM (CONT’D)
You can talk to me through this.

Aurora puts on Jim’s helmet. Speaks into the handset.

AURORA
Can you hear me?
 110.

JIM
(nodding)
Can you hear me?

His voice issues from the handset, tinny and small. She nods.

A deep rumble. The floor shakes under their feet.

AURORA
You’d better go.

EXT. STARSHIP EXCELSIOR - MAINTENANCE AIRLOCK

Jim eases out of the airlock - and out of the ship’s

artificial gravity. He hears only his own breathing, the purr
of his ventilator, his own footfalls.

He steps onto the hull, his grav boots sticking firmly - and
his perspective wheels...

...until the hull becomes the ground beneath his feet.

He walks across the window. Inside, Aurora stands in the

ship’s internal gravity. At right angles to him.

INT. WINDOW

Aurora looks at the soles of Jim’s boots, stuck to the glass.

His space-suited body cantilevered impossibly away from her.

She raises her hand to him. He nods and strides away.

EXT. STARSHIP EXCELSIOR - ATOP THE SHIP

Jim rises into view over the horizon of the curving hull. A
spacefaring knight with his shield and tools.

We see the Homestead Company logo on his improvised shield,

surrounded by a slogan:

The Homestead Company: Your Future is Our Business.

INT. STARSHIP EXCELSIOR - REACTOR CONTROL ROOM

Aurora dashes into the control room. It’s worse. The caged
sun roars. Expanding metal creaks and groans. Sweat dampens
Aurora’s clothes in the blast-furnace heat.

She touches the vent lever - and snatches her hand back with
a cry. Too hot to touch.

ANNOUNCER
Containment failure imminent.
 111.

EXT. STARSHIP EXCELSIOR - VENT TUBE DOOR

Jim arrives at the opening of the vent tube: a circular port

twenty-five feet across. He anchors his tether. Steps inside.

AURORA (V.O.)
Jim. Where are you?

INT. REACTOR VENT TUBE

Jim walks into the tube: a metal cavern lit by his suit’s
worklights.

JIM
I’m at the door.

It looms in front of him: a huge metal IRIS DOOR.

Jim twists a recessed handle in the tube wall. A panel

recedes, creating a shallow alcove. He steps inside. Turns to
find the manual release for the iris door.

He twists the release to the OPEN postion. Nothing happens.

He tries again, and again. The switch is dead.

Jim snarls and drops to one knee. Cuts the switch panel away.
The circuitry inside is charred and fused.

REACTOR CONTROL ROOM

Aurora takes off her shirt, leaving herself in a tank top.

Wraps the shirt around her hand to insulate against the heat.

Grasps the vent lever. Looks fearfully at the reactor.

AURORA
I’m ready. Just say when.

REACTOR VENT TUBE

Jim tears the fused circuitry away. Reaches deep into the
mechanism of the door. Strains to see inside.

JIM
Hang on...

AURORA (V.O.)
It’s getting bad in here.

Deep in the mechanism, Jim sees something. He pulls his

multitool. Snaps the flashlight on. Selects a tool setting
and reaches into the machinery. Twists an actuator.

The massive iris door opens.

 112.

Bloody light shines out. Jim stares up the tube into the
reactor itself. Only the failing containment field between
him and the fire.

Jim turns to go - but the iris door slides shut as soon as he

removes his hand.

JIM
No!

He reaches into the hole again. He twists. The door opens.

Withdraws his hand. Instantly the door begins to close.

He opens it again. Panic rising in his eyes.

He tries to wedge his multitool against the actuator to keep

the door open. No luck.

AURORA (V.O.)
What’s going on?

Jim swallows hard as the facts sink in.

JIM
Door won’t stay open. I have to stay
here.

AURORA (V.O.)
What? What do you mean?

JIM
I have to hold the door open.

AURORA (V.O.)
No. Get out of there.

Jim looks into the reactor. Red light blazing on his visor.

JIM
I can’t.

REACTOR CONTROL ROOM

Aurora stands panting in the heat, drenched in sweat.

JIM (V.O.)
Aurora. Vent the reactor. The door’s
open.

AURORA
I’m not going to do this. It’ll kill
you.

JIM (V.O.)
You have to.
 113.

REACTOR VENT TUBE

Jim crouches in the partial shelter of the alcove.

AURORA (V.O.)
No. This isn’t what you said was
going to happen.

Jim drags his heavy shield over himself.

JIM
I know.

His breathing echoes in his helmet. The thunder of the

reactor is muffled and distant.

He turns his head. Looks out of the tube. The stars shine
cool and white outside.

AURORA (V.O.)
Get out of there.

JIM
I know what I’m doing.

AURORA
(horrified)
Jim.

JIM
It’s okay.

AURORA
(a protest)
Jim!

JIM
(a plea)
Aurora!

REACTOR CONTROL ROOM

A scream of tortured metal. The reactor window cracks, a

faultline crazing the thick glass. It makes a sound like a
gunshot. Aurora jumps violently.

ANNOUNCER
Containment failed.

JIM (V.O.)
Now!

With a cry of anguish, Aurora drops the communicator and

hauls the lever down with both hands.
 114.

INT. REACTOR VENT TUBE

Fusing plasma blasts down the vent tube.

It almost rips the heavy shield from Jim’s arm. The metal
melts and ablates. He clings desperately, huddled behind the
metal slab. His grip slipping.

He roars with the effort of hanging on.

INT. STARSHIP EXCELSIOR - REACTOR CONTROL ROOM

In front of Aurora, the captive sun is discharged from the

ship in a cyclone of fire.

She listens in horror as Jim’s scream echoes from her handset

on the floor.

INT. REACTOR VENT TUBE

The final gust of burning plasma rips Jim from his nook and
blasts him out into space.

EXT. STARSHIP EXCELSIOR - VENT TUBE DOOR

Jim shoots out of the vent tube in a cloud of superheated

plasma. His suit blackened in places by the heat. The shield
on his arm glows cherry red.

He reaches the end of his tether with a bone-jarring jerk,

and the melted tether snaps.

Jim hurls his shield away with all his strength. The force of
his throw stops him dead in space.

He hangs motionless, twenty feet from the hull. The ship no

longer receding from him - but utterly out of reach.

The luminous plasma ejected by the ship disperses, a vast web

of burning filaments shining against the stars.

INT. STARSHIP EXCELSIOR - REACTOR ROOM

Aurora stands by the darkened reactor, drenched in sweat. The

chaos is ended. Quiet restored.

ANNOUNCER
Vent complete. Commencing re-
ignition.

Aurora snatches up the communicator.

AURORA
Jim. Jim!
 115.

In the reactor chamber, a new sun is born, growing from a

seed of light into a bright golden orb. It hums soothingly.

ANNOUNCER
Reactor re-stabilized.

But Aurora can’t tear her eyes away from the communicator.

AURORA
Jim.

A crackle of static.

AURORA (CONT’D)
Jim?

JIM (V.O.)
I’m here.

Joy floods Aurora’s face.

AURORA
You okay? Where are you?

JIM (V.O.)
Off the port side.

Aurora runs from the room.

EXT. STARSHIP EXCELSIOR - PORT SIDE

Jim floats in space. His breathing echoes in his helmet.

He assesses the damage: his spacesuit scorched and blackened.

A faint hiss. There’s a tiny jet of vapor venting from his

left forearm. A leak. He covers the leak with his right hand -
and notices a second leak on his right shoulder.

He tries to reach the shoulder leak with his joined hands.

It’s impossible. The air gauge on his wrist shows his air
supply dropping steadily.

He looks at the ship. Warmth and safety twenty feet away. It

might as well be a million miles.

He’s drifting slightly - moving aft past the windows. The

realization triggers a sudden panic. Jim struggles foolishly
to reach the ship, milling his arms to no avail.

AURORA (V.O.)
Jim!

She arrives at a window. One hand on the glass, the other

holding the communicator.
 116.

INT. WINDOW

Aurora looks out. Jim hangs there, his white suit stark
against the black sky. Still clutching his arm.

JIM
(tensely)
Hey.

He waves awkwardly. Aurora waves back, grinning.

AURORA
You did it! Come in!

JIM
I can’t.

AURORA
(her smile vanishes)
Are you hurt?

JIM
No. My tether broke. I can’t get back
to the ship.

AURORA
Well, don’t you...I mean, can’t
you...

EXT. STARSHIP EXCELSIOR - PORT SIDE

Jim is falling astern more noticeably now. Aurora walks along

the windows, pacing him without realizing it.

JIM
I don’t have jets. I don’t have
anything left to throw. I can’t get
back to the ship.

He’s breathing hard. Realizing how thoroughly screwed he is.

AURORA
I’ll pull you in somehow.

JIM
The ship’s accelerating. In a minute
or two I’m gone.

INT. WINDOW

Keeping pace along the window, Aurora stares at Jim in

dawning horror.
 117.

AURORA
Jim.

JIM
This is a stupid way to die.

AURORA
No. No.

She comes to the end of the wide window. Runs to the next.

AURORA (CONT'D)
Where’s the last airlock?

JIM
Deck Six. All the way back. But
listen...

Aurora turns and sprints toward the rear of the ship.

INT. STARSHIP EXCELSIOR - DECK ONE

Aurora runs aft. Flying. Faster than we’ve ever seen her.

EXT. STARSHIP EXCELSIOR - PORT SIDE

The true immensity of the starship becomes plain as Jim

glides past. Hundreds of windows.

Air hisses out of his suit at the shoulder. Jim wiggles his
jaw against the pressure in his ears. His teeth chatter. A
rime of frost on his visor.

The end is in sight: the stern of the ship approaching fast.

INT. STARSHIP EXCELSIOR - DECK SIX - AFT AIRLOCK

Aurora rips open a locker. Drags a spacesuit out. Wriggles

into it, frantic with haste and fumbling.

The communicator buzzes on the floor beside her.

JIM (V.O.)
I’m running out of ship.

AURORA
I’m going as fast as I can!

JIM
Aurora.

AURORA
Yes?
 118.

JIM
I’m sorry. Sorry for everything.

He’s saying goodbye.

Aurora gets the suit sealed. Jams a helmet on.

AURORA
Shut up. I’m coming.

EXT. STARSHIP EXCELSIOR

Jim looks out at the void with fading eyes. The last of his
breath escapes in a puff of white vapor.

He passes out. Goes limp. Tumbles along the hull.

INT. AFT AIRLOCK

Aurora slams into the airlock.

AURORA
Jim. Jim! Talk to me.

She fastens her tether to an anchor in the airlock. Pulls a

lever. The external door shoots open with a blast of air.

She sees Jim tumbling through space - already past her.

EXT. STARSHIP EXCELSIOR - AFT AIRLOCK

Aurora dives out of the airlock, arms outstretched.

She rockets toward Jim - but her tether jerks her to a stop
just before she reaches him. Horrified, she watches him drift
away from her toward deep space...

AURORA
No!

Then the trailing end of his tether whips across her field of
view. She catches it one-handed.

The tether goes taut, jerking her after Jim. She swings hard
against the hull. Grunts with the impact but keeps her grip.

Jim trails behind the starship, dead weight. She reels him in
hand-over-hand until she can get her arms around him.

Jim’s face is blue. His eyes wide and staring. Ice crystals
on his eyeballs. Aurora screams.

AURORA (CONT’D)
Jim!
 119.

INT. STARSHIP EXCELSIOR - AFT AIRLOCK

Aurora topples out of the airlock back into the ship,

dragging Jim inside. She lays him on the deck. Wrenches off
her helmet and then his. He looks dead and frozen.

AURORA
Jim!

INFIRMARY

Aurora drags Jim across the room, at the limit of her

strength. Wrestles his body into the autodoc. The frost on
his skin has melted, but he’s deathly pale. Not breathing.

She stabs at the control panel. A soothing voice responds.

AUTODOC
I’m sorry. The patient is dead.

AURORA
(incredulous)
Well, resuscitate him!

AUTODOC
Post-mortem operations require
authorized medical super...

AURORA
Override!

A menu of options fills the screen: DEFIBRILLATION,

OXYGENATION, ALPHA WAVE STIMULATION, INSANGUINATION, and so
on. Aurora punches every option.

AUTODOC
Multiple procedures are not
recommended...

AURORA
Override, you stupid machine! Do it!
Now! Now! Now!

She batters the autodoc with her hands.

AUTODOC
Executing!

Inside the autodoc, a storm of medical instruments descends.

In a split second Jim is intubated, laced with intravenous
lines, blanketed with sensors.

His body is jolted by electricity. Bombarded with ultrasound.

Massaged by magnetic fields. He convulses and shudders. It’s
violent. Ghastly.
 120.

Aurora watches with her hands over her mouth, afraid of what
she’s done. Afraid it won’t work.

The instruments withdraw. Jim lies pale and lifeless.

After an endless moment he draws a deep, ragged breath.

Aurora wrenches the autodoc open, luminous with joy.

He opens his eyes. Groggy, blinking, seeing nothing. Aurora

looks at him from inches away.

AURORA
Jim.

Jim swims back into focus. Draws a deep breath. He takes in

his surroundings. Aurora leaning over him.

JIM
You brought me back.

AURORA
Yeah.

She kisses him, delicately, her hands on his face. The

strength returns to Jim’s arms: he pulls her close.

FADE TO BLACK.

FUSION REACTOR CONTROL ROOM

The fusion reactor rumbles, its artificial sun restored to

balance. All the dials and gauges in the green. Power flows
like a river into the ship.

HIBERNATION BAY

We float across rows of passengers sleeping in their pods.

Peaceful faces. A soft hum of nurturing machines.

GRAND CONCOURSE - CONCOURSE BAR - DAY

Arthur polishes the bartop, humming to himself.

Cleaning robots patrol the concourse: sweeping, dusting,

polishing. Their dance restored to its former perfection.

EXT. STARSHIP EXCELSIOR

The ship soars across the starscape, all its windows shining.
Perfect once more.

The blue jewel of the swimming-pool window slides by.

 121.

INT. SWIMMING POOL

The lights are dimmed. Aurora swims the length of the pool,
stars shining through the water.

At the end of the pool, Jim waits in the water. She glides
into his arms. They kiss.

Turning, they cling to the edge of the pool, and stare out at
the sea of stars. For a long moment they give themselves over
to the beauty of it. She looks at him.

AURORA
Hell of a life.

Jim looks back at her with a slow grin.

JIM
Hell of a life.

They pull each other close. Look together out the wide window
at the glittering infinity of space.

FADE TO BLACK.

SUPER: EIGHTY-EIGHT YEARS LATER

INT. STARSHIP EXCELSIOR - CREW HIBERNATION FACILITY

A double row of hibernation pods. One by one, they open. A

chorus of electronic voices rattle off ship’s status reports
as the crew members awaken.

One by one the crew members step from their pods - including
THE CAPTAIN, a bearded bull of a man in a crew coverall.

CAPTAIN’S QUARTERS

A large, austere cabin. The Captain finishes buttoning his

imposing uniform.

The door opens behind him. A young ENSIGN ducks into the
room, looking like he’s seen a ghost.

ENSIGN
Captain. You need to see this.

GRAND CONCOURSE - DECK FOUR PROMENADE

The Captain walks up to the railing and looks out into the
Grand Concourse - an expression of wonder on his face. A
handful of young officers trails behind him, equally amazed.

The OAK TREE towers a hundred feet tall in the Concourse. Its
branches brush the skylight far above.
 122.

A blue-green planet looms outside, bathed in golden sunlight:

Homestead II.

Beneath the oak tree, a cottage stands, hand-built and homey.

Windowed and shingled as if it were built in a meadow, not a
starship. Roses grow against the walls. The door stands ajar.

In front of the cottage are two flowerbeds.

GRAND CONCOURSE - GARDEN

The Captain walks up, speechless with astonishment. The

flowerbeds are clearly graves. A window-washer robot waters
them; a modified sweeper robot trims errant leaves.

On a bench beside the flower patches lies a beautiful hand-

bound book. In the Blink of an Eye: Our Lives Between the
Stars, by Aurora Dunn.

The Captain picks up the book. Opens the cover. Sees a

handwritten dedication: For Jim.

He turns the printed pages in wonder. Comes to a bookmark and

stops: it’s the photo strip of Jim and Aurora from their
first date. Carefully mended where it was torn.

Four pictures of Jim and Aurora together.

They laugh. They clown. She kisses him.

Aurora looks into the camera’s eye.

Jim looks at Aurora.

FADE OUT.

THE END.