Low angle of Guard 1 tied up similarly to the first slaver, two bodies laying nearby, with Helton and Harbin in the background looking into an open gun crate.
Harbin: If we can find ammo, these will make things a bit easier.
Helton: I’ll look, you get a couple unpacked.
Harbin stoops down and removes a black plastic-shrink-wrapped rifle from the packing crate, and starts to peel back the wrapping.
Helton: (OC) Found it.
Harbin: Good. Drag a few thousand round up front, then find magazines.
Harbin: Hope we don’t need it all, but ammo is like money – I have yet to have too much.
Fade to black
INT – day – Storehouse
Harbin and Helton now carry rifles slung across their chests, with a few magazines of ammo in their pockets, and there is a heap of stuff near the door – a couple of duffel bags, a 20L water can, a couple more rifles, and several opened cases of ammo and several magazine-loaded bandoleers.
Helton: Almost time
Harbin: Yup. We need more flier info from our unhelpful friends… You might want to plug your ears.
Helton looks at him with an uncertain expression on his face.
Helton: I though Sikhs were all peaceful and into the sanctity of life?
Harbin: Mostly, yes. Never said I was a particularly good one. And others are depending on us.
Harbin walks out of view towards the back of the storehouse… An agonized scream rings through the room. Then another. Another. Helton winces a bit more at each one.
Int – day – front of storeroom.
Harbin walks toward the pile of stuff he pulled out of Slaver1’s pockets, and fishes out an electronic key. He then holds up a small bag with something in it.
Harbin: I think we have what we need. Time to go.
Helton: (as if he isn’t sure he really wants to know) What’d you do?
Harbin: (shrugging) Pegged his give-a-shit meter.
They turn toward the door
EXT – day – corner of outbuilding
Helton & Harbin are walking confidently past the corner of the building toward the landing area. Each carries a slung rifle across their chest, three slung bandoleers, a duffel slung over their shoulders, and a water can in one hand and ammo can in the other. They stride like they own the place, and have every right to be there. They head right for the closest and largest of the fliers. They walk up to the boarding hatch near the front, and set the things in their hands down. Next to the closed hatch is a hand-scan pad.
Helton: Now what?!
Harbin pulls out the bag from a cargo pocket in his pants and from it takes a severed hand and places it against the scanner. It flashes green, and the built-in stairs fold down as the hatch opens. He tucks the hand back in the bag, places it back in his pocket, and picks up his load again, as if it were a totally normal thing to do. He marches up the stairs, with Helton following him. They go inside, and the hatch closes behind them.
INT – day – cargo bay of flier
The door is just closing behind them as they come aboard. They drop the things in their hands and over their shoulders, and head for the cockpit. They arrive at the door side-by-side and pause. They each wave the other to go first. There is an awkward pause as they look at one another with an awful realization.
Harbin: Are you a pilot?
Helton: … Aren’t you? It was YOUR idea.
Harbin shakes his head.
Silence for a moment as they consider their predicament.
Helton: (questioningly) Not at all?
Harbin: Not even barely.
Helton: Then let’s hope this thing doesn’t crash as easily as a simulator.
Harbin gives Helton a look of surprise, then fatalistic acceptance as Helton leads into the cockpit.
Cut to cockpit.
[Que up heroic music for getaway scene, something like Two Steps From Hell Strength of a thousand men, or Army of Justice]
They climb into the seats and buckle themselves in, then sit for a moment as Helton looks over the controls.
Helton: (muttering to himself as he visually identifies and points to items) OK, master ignition, keylock, attitude indicators, peddles, landing gear, that must be… (looking confused for a moment) hopefully something I don’t need… AH! Security check! Give me a hand, there.
Harbin puts the severed hand on the hand-print reader, which is off to one side, which blinks for a moment then lights up with “pilot authentication POSITIVE”. Harbin hands the electronic key to Helton, who inserts it into the keylock, and the panels light up. He examines screens, flips a few switches. We here the sound of machinery spinning up to speed.
Helton: (grimly) Well, here goes. Hang on tight.
EXT – day – view of the airfield, with the ship they just boarded in the foreground
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