ACT FOUR
FADE IN:
EXT. SPACE - ABOVE ALPHA CENTAURI A
Still encased in the massive dry dock orbiting the planet, Enterprise is a positive hub of activity. Dozens of EV-suited figures can be seen hard at work on the outer hull, most using vacuum torches to secure hull patches or seal micro-breaches. Through transparent viewports on the dry dock itself, we can see numerous figures observing the ongoing work but making no effort to assist.
INT. ENTERPRISE - ENGINEERING
The hiss of the main door to engineering opening cannot be heard over the noise of the staff hard at work. Loud bangs of metal against metal, orders relayed by shouts, and the whine of power tools all mingle, creating a cacophony of sound that is - momentarily - deafening.
Wearing an EV-suit (sans helmet and gloves) and glaring at a clipboard with actual paper on it, Trip Tucker enters his domain a half step ahead of an engineering crewman. Tucker is shaking his head and an expression of frustration is on his face.
TUCKER
Dammit. I was afraid of that.
(beat, as he hands the clipboard to the crewman)
Take this back to Rostov and tell him to check the entire section for stress fractures. The entire section. Have him pull from Taylor's crew if he needs help.
CREWMAN
Yes sir.
Tucker turns away from the retreating crewman and gives the engineering deck a quick glance. At once, his expression sours to one of anger.
His POV: Standing in front of his “office” and before the wall monitor that currently displays a schematic of Enterprise, Sub-Commander T'Pol is issuing instructions to several crewmen and pointing to the display. Both men nod - grudgingly in one instance - and move off.
Back to scene: His lips tight with barely repressed fury, the commander stomps forward, intent on the Vulcan. Sensing his mood, a number of crewmen scurry to get out of his way. At his approach, she looks up from the console in front of the display - from the small console screen; it's pretty obvious that she was adjusting the repair schedule.
T'POL
Commander, I have been waiting for-
TUCKER
(interrupting, very hostile)
What the hell are you doin'?
T'Pol appears momentarily taken aback by the fury in the engineer's voice but takes it in stride; after all, she knows full well how few aboard the ship even want her here, especially the man whose job as First Officer she took.
T'POL
I was waiting for you.
(beat, off Trip’s silence)
Captain Archer instructed me to offer my assistance in completing the repairs.
TUCKER
Assistance.
(points to the console screen)
That's not assistance, Sub-Commander. That's tryin' to do my job!
She raises an eyebrow as he continues his tirade.
TUCKER (CONT'D)
No one - no one - comes into Engineering and tries to tell me how to run things! You want something done, you come to me, you don't start tellin' my people what to do!
T'POL
(coolly in the face of Trip’s anger)
I am not attempting to circumvent your authority, Commander.
TUCKER
(still angry)
Really? Then can you tell my why the hell you were screwin' with my repair schedule?
T'Pol blinks, unable to come up with an appropriate response to that comment as she realizes that Trip does have a legitimate point. The engineer stands in silence for a BEAT, still glaring at her.
T'POL
My revisions were in the interests of efficiency.
TUCKER
So go through proper channels.
(beat, crossing his arms)
Like you keep remindin' me to do.
(beat, as T’Pol frowns slightly)
I don't need someone second guessin' my every move. Especially not you.
The Vulcan nods ever so slightly in an unspoken offer of truce and Trip, overloaded with work and stress and lack of sleep, accepts with nothing more than the breaking of eye contact. Another frown appears on his face as he sees several crewmen that he doesn't recognize. Seeming to read his thoughts, the sub-commander suddenly speaks up.
T'POL
The replacement crew members were shuttled to Enterprise from Lexington while you were conducting hull repairs.
(beat, as he glances back at her)
As you were unavailable, I took the liberty of assigning them tasks.
Trip is silent for a BEAT, trying to figure out if he should be annoyed or grateful for that.
TUCKER
(grudgingly)
Thanks.
(beat, suddenly thoughtful)
Do any of them have EV trainin'? I really need some more bodies to help with the hull patches...
T'POL
None of them have more than basic training in zero-gee operations.
(beat, off Trip’s frustrated sigh)
I, however, am quite skilled in low gravity environments.
Tucker smirks abruptly.
TUCKER
(amused)
I bet you are ...
(beat, off T’Pol’s raised eyebrow)
Get suited up then, Sub-Commander. I'll meet you at the aft airlock in ten minutes.
She nods once, still obviously attempting to decipher the source of his sudden humor, and turns away. Tucker's eyes briefly linger on her posterior before he starts looking over the revised repair schedule. A curious expression appears on his face as LIEUTENANT KELBY, his second, approaches with a clipboard in hand.
KELBY
Sir?
Trip glances up, accepting the offered clipboard without even giving it a glance.
KELBY (CONT'D)
I ... uh ... made a backup of your repair schedule, sir.
(beat, off Trip’s sidelong glance)
When I saw her adjusting it. You want me to restore the original?
TUCKER
Don't bother.
(as he gestures toward T'Pol's “suggestions”)
This one's better.
(beat, off Kelby's surprise)
Make sure all of the department heads get a copy.
Tucker looks toward the main entrance into Engineering as the lieutenant nods.
His POV: Sub-Commander T'Pol strides confidently out of Engineering.
Back to scene: Trip grunts and looks down at the clipboard Kelby gave him moments ago. With that, we fade to...
EXT. ALPHA CENTAURI - THE “OLD” CITY
An immense moon - significantly larger than the Terran satellite - looms overhead, bathing the darkened street in surprising luminance. The buildings here are old, dilapidated and most appear to have originally been constructed from starship hulls. Unlike the street outside the capitol building, the alleyways here are clogged with groundcars; very few appear to be less than fifteen years old. Everywhere one looks, the impression of age and poverty is felt.
From the street, we push into:
INT. BUILDING - A QUAINT PUB
His head hanging low, Jonathan Archer looks nothing like the proud UESPA captain that he is. Dressed in an old coat and older pants, he appears to be just another down-on-his-luck citizen of this colony. Sipping slowly from the mug that rests on the table before him, he studies the visitors of this small drinking establishment with hooded eyes.
His POV: Hoshi and Reed sit quietly at a table with the major's back to the wall; both of them are dressed in civilian clothes as well and chat softly with one another in low voices. At a quick glance, they could be taken as sweethearts or close friends sharing a meal; Reed's eyes, however, are rarely on his dinner companion and sweep the bar in a manner that is unmistakable.
The bar itself is filled nearly to capacity and a grim atmosphere hangs over it. Low conversations are the norm and no one appears happy. As Archer's attention shifts to various colonists, the focus on the conversations shifts as well.
COLONIST 1
-damned ECA. Didja hear they upped the cargo tax again? How the hell am I supposed to afford that?
COLONIST 2
-don't hold with this Cheet fellow ... but he's gotta point, you know? Those Earthers keep givin' us the shaft and it's about time they pay-
COLONIST 3
-entire fleet up there. I heard that they've got orders to retake the planet by force.
COLONIST 4
-lost his whole crop. Some new strain of bacteria or something. Gonna have to sell half his land just to buy the-
COLONIST 5
-can't even pay local taxes! How're we supposed to afford this latest nonsense?
COLONIST 6
-heard Joe got caught up in the fighting. Lost his boy to those Tamarite? Tallavite? Eh ... whatever the hell ya call 'em.
Back to scene: His face troubled, Archer gives Reed a discreet look, signaling with his eyes that he's ready to leave before standing. No one notices their departure, so wrapped up in their own problems.
EXT. ALPHA CENTAURI - THE “OLD” CITY
Inhaling deeply of the night air, Archer barely glances at his two crewmen as they walk from the bar and toward a nondescript groundcar. Without speaking, the captain slides into the driver's seat and engages the engine. It's a wheeled vehicle, not too dissimilar from a modern car but is much quieter, indicating an electric engine of some sort. As Archer eases the vehicle onto the street, Hoshi breaks the silence.
SATO
Sir?
(beat, off his half glance toward her)
Did you get what you wanted?
Archer frowns and is silent for a VERY LONG BEAT.
ARCHER
What I wanted? No.
(beat, with a sigh)
What I needed ... maybe.
Both Reed and Sato give him a strange look but say nothing.
ARCHER
Contact Enterprise and arrange a pick up.
The major pulls out a communicator and we shift to...
EXT. ALPHA CENTAURI - SPACEPORT - NIGHT
An Enterprise shuttlepod descends from the night sky as the groundcar approaches. As he exits the vehicle, Archer gives the spaceport a long look, noting that it is remarkably busy. Boomer ships are being rapidly filled up with poorly-dressed civilians and we focus again on the captain's face. His expression is grim as he turns to the shuttlepod and its open hatch. Almost instantly, the 'pod lifts off of the ground and races into the night sky.
EXT. SPACE - ABOVE ALPHA CENTAURI A
Engines glowing brightly, the shuttlepod breaks from the planet and approaches the drydock.
INT. SHUTTLEPOD
Seated at the rear of the 'pod, his head leaning back against the metal, Captain Archer stares at the opposite wall for a LONG BEAT. Finally ...
ARCHER
Hoshi.
The ensign shoots him a startled look, her hands white from the near death grip she has on the seat restraints.
ARCHER
When we get aboard, I want you to set up a communication with Admiral Forrest. High priority.
She nods and he returns to his brooding.
INT. ENTERPRISE - ARCHER'S OFFICE
Now wearing the UESPA sweats we saw him wear in the mini-series, Captain Archer paces back and forth in front of the small viewport. He appears to be rehearsing something - a speech perhaps, or maybe a request that he expects to be denied. Glancing up at the viewport, he frowns at the darkened planet beyond.
SATO (COMM VOICE)
Sir, I have Admiral Forrest.
Turning back to his desk and quickly taking a seat, Archer draws a breath as if he is tensing for something .... unpleasant.
ARCHER
Thank you.
He reaches forward and presses a button. Instantly, Admiral Forrest's face appears on the screen before Archer.
FORREST
(annoyed and sleepy)
Dammit, Archer! Do you know what time it is?
The chronometer on Archer's wall can be seen as the captain replies: 02:36.
ARCHER
Yes sir.
At that, the admiral blinks in surprise. Realizing that whatever Archer called him for is important, he rubs the grit from his eyes.
FORREST
Then it better be worth it, Jonathan.
ARCHER
(nodding)
Yes sir.
(beat)
Admiral, are you aware that General Petrov is heading the diplomatic team that President Vanderbilt sent?
From his expression, the admiral clearly was not aware of that.
FORREST
Petrov?
(beat, frowning)
He's not a diplomat...
ARCHER
(grim)
No sir, he's not.
(beat, off of the admiral's questioning look)
Max, he's not even trying to negotiate.
The personal appeal achieves the goal as the admiral frowns hard.
ARCHER
He's gone out of his way to be as offensive as possible. It's like he wants a fight.
(frustrated)
He wore combat armor to the negotiations!
FORREST
Jon ...
ARCHER
(growing more frustrated)
Combat armor! To negotiations!
FORREST
Jon!
Archer forces himself to calm down.
FORREST
(hesitantly)
If Petrov is there, then the president sent him for a reason.
ARCHER
(flatly)
Yeah. To start a war.
The admiral's eyes narrow in reproach but he doesn't call Archer on the disrespect. He studies Archer for a long BEAT before finally sighing heavily.
FORREST
What do you need?
Archer visibly readies himself and the admiral recognizes this with a frown.
ARCHER
Talk to Vanderbilt. Get him to pull Petrov back.
The admiral's eyes widen.
FORREST
(sarcastically)
Just like that?
(beat)
I don't exactly have the president on speed calling, Jon.
ARCHER
Max, you know I wouldn't ask you to do this if it wasn't important.
(beat, off the admiral's silence)
I spent a couple hours with the locals today and a lot of Cheet's complaints turned out to be true. The new tax laws are crippling their economy and-
FORREST
(firmly)
Jon.
(off Archer's shutting up)
It's not our job to make the laws, just to obey them.
ARCHER
(flatly)
Colonel Green’s people said the same thing.
Anger flares momentarily in the admiral’s eyes and he glares at Archer; the captain says nothing more, however, letting his own expression express his disdain over this course of action. After a moment, the admiral sighs, recognizing the validity in the younger man’s complaints.
FORREST
I’ll see what I can do.
ARCHER
Thank you, sir.
FORREST
Don’t thank me yet! This may just make things worse!
(beat, off Archer’s still troubled expression)
And Jon? Don’t do anything stupid.
ARCHER
Yes sir.
Forrest sighs again and ends the transmission, leaving Archer to sit quietly in the dark. For a long BEAT, he stares at the blank screen before finally looking to his left. Almost instantly, his features tighten.
His POV: The small picture viewer that previously held a shot of his parents has now cycled forward in its rotation of digital images. Now, it is frozen on an official photo of HENRY ARCHER receiving a Nobel peace prize.
Back to scene: Archer frowns darkly at the image before reaching for the comm. panel.
ARCHER
Archer to bridge. Connect me to the Lexington.
A dark smile touches his face and a thought occurs to him: he’s going to do something stupid.
FADE OUT.
END OF ACT FOUR
Continue to Act Five
