"Nomad" by Matt Glanville
Script created with Final Draft by Final Draft, Inc.
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EXT. SPACE. AMONGST THE RUINS OF A VAST SPACESHIP
The remains of an enormous craft are slowly drifting through
space. The exposed framework of its metal hull resembles the
skeleton of an elephant or whale, with smaller pieces of
debris inside, gradually spinning and colliding with one
another. Behind the craft is a distant star, whose light rays
slice between the angular structures. One broken chunk of the
ship displays a flag: a combination of the Union Jack and the
Stars & Stripes.
Floating down the middle of the hull is a human figure in a
heavy-duty, orange space suit: SARA JACOBS (female, 27). She
is pushing what resembles a large suitcase with handles and
pipes protruding from its sides. JACOBS is not moving.
INT. NOMAD 3 RESEARCH VESSEL. AIR LOCK
An amber warning light is circling inside a clean, white air
lock chamber. The large doors clunk into motion and gently
slide apart. JACOBS drifts inside with the case and the doors
begin to close.
Once they come together the lights change to a constant pale
yellow. JACOBS and the case suddenly fall to the floor and
lie motionless.
A female voice speaks echoes through the speakers.
ANONYMOUS (V.O.)
Gravitational stabilisers active.
DENISE CARLSON (female, 34, Polish descent) and WILLARD VINCE
(male, 31, African descent) walk into the air lock dressed in
grey and green overalls. They kneel beside the body. CARLSON
releases a catch on the front of JACOBS' helmet and the visor
hisses open.
CARLSON
Shit.
VINCE turns, opens the case and examines the contents.
VINCE
Um, Captain, you better take a look
at this.
CARLSON turns and also looks at the contents. They both look
at each other in shock.
INT. RESEARCH LABORATORY
The room is filled with stainless steel cabinets, various lab
equipment and a surgical bed, upon which JACOBS is laying. In
the centre of the room is a large glass case. Inside is an
unfamiliar object, about two feet across, that resembles a
chunk of coral. It is a deep burgundy colour with blotches of
black and dark brown and small flecks of white. The object is
being slowly turned by a pair of robotic arms. The arms are
being manipulated by DOCTOR CLIVE BAXTER (male, 44, European
descent).
VINCE enters the room with an air of confidence. He bows
slightly towards JACOBS as a mark of respect as he walks over
to BAXTER.
VINCE
Let's see it then.
BAXTER
What?
VINCE
The artifact.
BAXTER moves aside slightly so VINCE can see into the case,
appearing to be irritated by his disturbance.
VINCE (CONT'D)
Christ. What are you thinking?
BAXTER
I've been scratching my head over
it since I saw it. Could be of
Alturian origin, but these markings
suggest otherwise.
VINCE
Maybe from somewhere in the Third
Quadrant?
BAXTER
Ha! Maybe. Hard to pinpoint it more
accurately though. I'm going to
have to spend some more time
analysing it.
VINCE looks over at JACOBS' body.
VINCE
And what about Sara?
BAXTER is still focusing on the object.
BAXTER
What?
VINCE
Jacobs! You haven't even started
looking at her yet, have you?
BAXTER
I'll get on it.
VINCE hesitates for a moment, then turns and leaves the lab.
VINCE
Be careful, doctor. We don't know
what that thing is yet.
BAXTER watches him from the corner of his eyes, then returns
to working with the object and muttering inaudible words to
himself. He sounds bothered and slightly frustrated.
INT. CAFETERIA
CARLSON and BAXTER are sat opposite each other on a large,
acrylic table, eating some sort of nondescript pink food from
tubs. Beyond them is a screen occupying the entire height of
the wall and broadcasting scenes from a nature documentary.
The two sit in silence as they eat their meals for a moment.
CARLSON
How's the analysis coming along?
BAXTER finishes his mouthful.
BAXTER
Not bad.
CARLSON
Managed to determine the cause of
death yet?
BAXTER looks down as he chews, avoiding CARLSON's gaze. He
begins twisting his spoon in circles in the pink sludge.
CARLSON (CONT'D)
I'm talking about the analysis of
Lieutenant Jacobs, not the
artifact.
BAXTER
It's complicated.
CARLSON stops eating and watches BAXTER continue.
CARLSON
You know the Authorities need a
full report 13 hours from now,
right? And if it's not delivered on
time, it's me that has to explain
why.
BAXTER
I know.
CARLSON
So, I can count on it being in on
time?
BAXTER has clearly become agitated by CARLSON's probing.
BAXTER
Yes! Jesus!
CARLSON looks down at her food, plays with it with her spoon.
CARLSON
Don't spend too much time with that
thing.
BAXTER looks up suddenly.
BAXTER (DEFENSIVE)
Why are you saying that?
CARLSON looks him in the eye for a while, then puts what's
left of her meal in the bin. She begins to leave the room.
BAXTER (CONT'D)
It can help us determine the cause
of death!
INT. COMMUNICATIONS HUB
CARLSON and VINCE are sat in reclining chairs with their
backs to one another. They are both adjusting settings on
terminals that line the low, sloping ceiling. Dozens of
lights are blinking around them. They talk as they work.
VINCE
Captain, I wanted to ask about my
access to the landing codes.
CARLSON
Willard... Holding that kind of
information makes you a liable
target. Only two crew members are
authorised, and that's me and
Clive.
VINCE
I'm looking to take on more
responsibility, Captain. I'm ready.
CARLSON
I'm sorry. I can't do that, Will.
For the sake of your family.
VINCE looks down, appearing to be troubled by something.
CARLSON (CONCERNED) (CONT'D)
What is it?
VINCE
It's just, well, you know how it is
out here. We're stuck in slow
motion while back home they're at
full speed. I probably wouldn't
even recognise my own wife these
days. Even the kids are physically
older than me by now.
CARLSON's expression changes to one of sorrow, as if to say
"I know the feeling". They both continue working.
INT. FEMALE DORMITORY
CARLSON is wearing grey sleepwear. She places her grey/green
overalls on a hanger and puts them in an alcove in the wall,
then presses a button and a door slides across quietly. She
walks over to a lit washroom.
INT. FEMALE WASHROOM
CARLSON stands in front of the mirror, leaning against the
stainless steel sink. A small, neon light buzzes gently above
her. She turns on the tap, then reaches down for a
toothbrush. It is held neatly in a slot labelled '75/0924:
CARLSON, D.' Next to it is another slot labelled '45/1813:
JACOBS, S.'
CARLSON looks at JACOBS' name, then squeezes her eyes shut in
grief and leans over the sink. The water is still running.
INT. RESEARCH LABORATORY
The strange artifact lies still in its glass case. The room
is dark but it gives off a dull, red glow.
INT. CAFETERIA / CORRIDORS
VINCE is sat watching more nature documentaries. He yawns and
stands up, stretches, then turns off the screen. He places a
mug on a small table and leaves the cafeteria. We follow him
as he makes his way through the narrow, white corridors,
flicking the occasional switch to turn off the lights behind
him but never stopping.
He eventually reaches the door to the MALE DORMITORY and goes
inside, then suddenly turns as if he remembered something and
goes back out.
VINCE walks down to the next door; the FEMALE DORMITORY. He
raps on the door but walks in without waiting for a response.
VINCE
Knock knock, Captain.
There is no sign of CARLSON.
VINCE (CONT'D)
Captain?
VINCE looks around and notices that the door to the washroom
is slightly open. He walks over cautiously, pushes it open
more and finds CARLSON laying on the floor. Her face is
bruised and bloodied. The mirror has been severely cracked
with its shards pointing inwards, as if something was pushed
against it. The tap is still running.
VINCE gasps and covers his mouth, his eyes transfixed on
CARLSON's body. He drops to his knees and pulls her close to
him as he sobs.
VINCE (CONT'D)
Denise!
INT. COMMAND CENTRE. DAY TIME
Dozens of people are busy work at terminals in a large room
full of electronic equipment. There is a picture of the
Earth's continents on the wall.
It is noticeably different to its current state with the land
mass being generally smaller, as if the sea levels have
risen. High windows let daylight into the room.
A red light appears on one terminal and VINCE's voice comes
through.
VINCE (V.O.)
Command, this is Nomad 3. Are you
receiving? Over.
One of the female operators in the room - dressed in a short
sleeve blue shirt and black trousers - sits at the terminal
and presses a button, then speaks into a microphone.
OPERATOR
Nomad 3, this is Command. Receiving
loud and clear. Over.
VINCE (V.O.)
I'm reporting the death of Captain
Carlson. Apparent homicide. Cause
of death appears to be...
asphyxiation. Over.
The OPERATOR turns her head and exchanges glances with
another employee. They both have concerned looks on their
faces.
OPERATOR
Uh, can you report on the status of
yourself and Doctor Baxter? Over.
VINCE (V.O.)
I'm green. Baxter is... nowhere to
be seen. Over.
OPERATOR
It is of utmost importance that
Doctor Baxter comes to no harm. He
is the only remaining crew member
with access to the landing codes.
Over.
VINCE (V.O.)
God damn it! Can't you give me the
codes?
OPERATOR
Uh, that's a negative, Nomad 3. You
are not cleared for the retinal
scan. Over.
The OPERATOR swallows in nervousness as another employee
whispers something in her ear.
OPERATOR (CONT'D)
Um, Nomad 3, I've just received
word that we are aborting the
Project. Initiate the 'return
flight' procedure. Over.
A pause... silence.
OPERATOR (CONT'D)
Nomad 3, are you receiving? Over.
INT. COMMUNICATIONS HUB
VINCE's headset has apparently been knocked to the ground and
he is reaching desperately for it. BAXTER holds him back from
behind using a thick cable wrapped around his throat.
The OPERATOR can be heard faintly in the background, seeking
a response from VINCE.
BAXTER
You're insane if you think I'm
going to let them abort the
Project! I've spent twelve years in
that fucking lab, and all for what?
So some suit can pull the plug on
me? Just erase everything I've
worked towards?! No fucking way!
VINCE is struggling as BAXTER tightens the cable. He
splutters and chokes. Just as he looks like he is about to
pass out, BAXTER releases him and he drops to the floor.
VINCE coughs and gasps and rubs his neck.
VINCE
What the hell is going on?
BAXTER
Don't act stupid with me! I know
what you're all trying to do. Ever
since Jacobs brought that thing in
you've been trying to keep me from
it. Now you're just going to cut
the ties altogether. You're going
to just hand it over to the Project
bigwigs?!
VINCE
I have no control over what command
decide to...
BAXTER kicks VINCE in the stomach.
BAXTER
Shut up! Jacobs died bringing that
thing in, and Carlson is dead too
because of it. Surely even you can
see how important it is?
VINCE (CHOKING)
No... No I can't. You don't even
know what it is!
BAXTER
I don't care what it is! It's my
studies, my work! Mine! If we go
back to Earth they'll take it from
me!
VINCE
Is that what this is about? Your
fucking pride?
BAXTER's anger appears to have subdued.
BAXTER
It doesn't matter. It's mine.
He turns and walks towards the door.
BAXTER (CONT'D)
You know you're at my whim now.
Only these eyes bear the code to
landing the ship. Only I can take
us home.
INT. RESEARCH LABORATORY
The strange artifact lies still in its glass case, faintly
glowing as it did before.
INT. COMMUNICATIONS HUB
VINCE staggers to his feet. He clutches his stomach with one
hand while the other searches across the desk. It finds a
ball point pen.
VINCE
BAXTER...
BAXTER slowly turns around.
VINCE (CONT'D)
You're not going home.
VINCE lunges forward and stabs the pen into BAXTER's right
eye. BAXTER screams and falls back, but VINCE goes with him
and they land on the floor. VINCE hammers the pen further
into his head and holds it firmly until BAXTER stops
struggling. VINCE pants for breath, clearly shocked by his
own actions. He jumps to his feet and wipes blood from his
hands on to his overalls.
INT. RESEARCH LABORATORY
Beyond the artifact the door opens, letting white light spill
into the room. VINCE's figure can be seen in the door way. He
stands facing the artifact.
INT. COMMAND CENTRE. DAY TIME
The OPERATOR is drawn towards a blinking display on one
terminal.
OPERATOR
Sir, I'm receiving notification
that Nomad 3 has had its return
flight codes entered. They're
coming back.
A second OPERATOR peers over, dressed similarly.
OPERATOR 2
What? That's impossible...
EXT. SPACE. HIGH ABOVE EARTH
The ship Nomad 3 drifts slowly towards Earth.
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Script created with Final Draft by Final Draft, Inc.