Writer's Workshop

So I know I have my Bride of Dracula script I need to finish, but that story reached a point where I really needed to go back over it, edit it, align the easlier characters and plot points with what came after, and really rework some bits. I will go through and do that, but while I was thinking on that script, this idea came to me. And when an idea strikes it tends to take over my brain. I just had to write it, even if other projects have to wait for a bit.

This is the first part of probably a ten (or so) part script. This is, admittedly, mostly introduction, but it's key for getting us into the story and moving us from here. The setup will be worth it...

Dead In Space: Part 1

FADE IN.

EXT: SPACE, FIRST ROTATION.

Stars fill the screen, and slowly the camera zooms in towards a speck that, as opening music slowly plays in and the credits play, resolves into the shape of a ship.

TITLE: The Dobruja

As the camera slowly moves around the ship, we see a probing droid come into frame. The explores around, dancing its lights along the exterior, checking the ship for obvious damage or threats.

SPENCER (V.O.):

Probe searching. No visible damage.

TURNER (V.O):

No sign of what the distress signal is broadcasting?

SPENCER (V.O.):

No, Captain. Signals indicate the engines are working, but shut down. Life support is active, but minimal. Pressure in the ship is one atmosphere. She seems like she should be alive, but isn’t.

TURNER (V.O.):

Dead in space.

SPENCER (V.O.):

Not dead. Dormant.

TURNER (V.O.):

No signs of life?

INT: THE DOBRUJA, MAIN HALLS.

The camera slowly moves through the show, showing it empty, with just low lighting illuminating its spaces.

SPENCER (V.O.):

None, sir. Some possible cargo, judging by scans of the bays, but nothing registering alive.

EXT: SPACE, CYBELE, FIRST ROTATION.

We cut to the ship of our protagonists, the Cybele, a sleek and well-tended ship that launched the probe.

TITLE: Cybele, Independent Salvage Hauler.

The camera quickly moves in, through the view screens of the ship, until we’re inside.

INT: CYBELE, COMMAND AND CONTROL DECK.

We see the crew of the ship, including the captain, his XO, and the other tech. While they’re all dressed in something approximating business appropriate for the ship, it would be a stretch to even call them uniforms. But they all seem intent on their jobs, showing that they might be casual about some things but all business when it counts.

TURNER:

A perfectly functional ship floating in space, broadcasting distress with no signs of why she’d be sending out her signal.

The XO, HARTFORD, turns and looks at the captain.

HARTFORD:

It could be a trap, Captain.

TURNER:

Oh, it absolutely feels like a trap, HARTFORD. I just can’t see how. This is the middle of nowhere with nothing nearby. No planets, no asteroids, not even enough interstellar gas to cover a small shuttle.

He gets a look on his face, as if thinking.

TURNER:

And we’re sure there’s no other ships in the area? Not even stealth ships?

HARTFORD turns back to her console.

HARTFORD:

I’ve done four sweeps. Doing a fifth now. Nothing.

TURNER:

What if it was a really stealthy ship.

HARTFORD turns back to the Captain. She smiles.

HARTFORD:

If it were sufficiently stealthy to avoid all of our scans, then there would be no way for us to know it.

TURNER:

Fair enough.

He sighs, looking tired. Then he gets up and stretches.

TURNER:

Well, take us to her, then. Easy pace. Keep scanning just in case.

HARTFORD:

Aye, sir.

TURNER:

Chair is yours, HARTFORD. I’m going to get a drink.

He moves off to the bridge’s exit while HARTFORD gets up and slides into the Captain’s chair.

INT: CYBELE, SHIP’S LOUNGE, FIRST ROTATION.

A low, steady bit of music plays in the lounge. TRINN is hanging out there, sipping a drink while watching news on a screen. The news is muted, but subtitles play along the bottom. TURNER comes in and TRINN gives a lazy salute without getting up.

TRINN:

Shouldn’t you be on the bridge, TURNER?

TURNER goes to a wall panel and pops open a stash of liquor bottles. He grabs a glass, and a bottle of scotch, then comes over to TRINN.

TURNER:

You’re one to talk, TRINN. What would our employers say if they knew the ship’s doctor was getting liquored up on shift?

TRINN acts affronted.

TRINN:

I’ll have you know I’ve only had one drink.

TURNER gives her a look.

TRINN:

It might have been four.

TURNER settles on the couch and TRIN curls up next to him with easy familiarity. TURNER waves his glass at the screen.

TURNER:

Any good news?

TRINN:

It’s at least a week old. We’re so far out that updates are struggling to come through. We’re still getting reports on the moon quake on Io.

TURNER:

People care about quakes on that rock?

TRINN:

The colonists do.

TURNER:

They take their life into their own hands on that volcanic slab.

TRINN:

What’s this I was hearing about a ship to salvage?

TURNER sighs and throws a slug back.

TURNER:

We’re closing in on it. A couple of hours and we’ll be there.

TRINN:

I suppose I should sober up, then. I’ll have to do my job once we get there.

TURNER:

Having a sober doctor would be good, but this isn’t a rescue. No signs of life on the ship.

TRINN nods when she hears this, then takes his glass and sips on the liquor within.

TRINN:

Two hours, you say?

TURNER nods. TRINN takes his bottle, too, and gets up. Then she heads for the door.

TRINN:

That means we have some time to kill, sailor.

TRINN exits the lounge, and then a half a beat later TURNER gets up and follows her out.

INT: CYBELE, COMMAND AND CONTROL DECK, FIRST ROTATION.

HARTFORD sits in the big chair, watching the front view screens as the Dobruja slowly comes into view.

HARTFORD:

SPENCER, how long until we can dock?

SPENCER:

I’m programming in our approach vector now. Give it fifteen minutes.

HARTFORD:

We’ll call the captain up in ten, then.

SPENCER looks over his shoulder.

SPENCER:

Procedure is for him to be here now, ma’am.

HARTFORD gives a laugh.

HARTFORD:

I just saw he was over in the crew quarters. With the doctor.

SPENCER gives a knowing look.

SPENCER:

As you say. Ten minutes.

EXT: SPACE, THE TWO SHIPS, FIRST ROTATION.

The Cybele moves into her approach with the Dobruja, and then settles in at the same speed and course. A gantry extends, locking her to the other ship.

INT: CYBELE, COMMAND AND CONTROL DECK, FIRST ROTATION.

HARTFORD:

Captain to the bridge. Docking in progress.

TURNER (V.O.):

Already?! You should have called me sooner.

HARTFORD:

Oh, but sir, I didn’t want to interrupt your physical.

She and SPENCER laugh. TURNER coughs and sounds flabbergasted.

TURNER (V.O.):

Right… yes… on my way.

EXT: SPACE, THE TWO SHIPS, FIRST ROTATION.

An environmental tube moves along the gantry, connecting the two ships along their airlocks. The tube inflates, and then illuminates.

SPENCER (V.O.):

Docking complete. Evo tube connected, showing green.

INT: CYBELE, COMMAND AND CONTROL DECK, FIRST ROTATION.

TURNER comes onto the bridge. HARTFORD stands and moves to her station. TURNER sits.

TURNER:

Status?

HARTFORD:

Five-by. We are clear to send a party.

TURNER:

Good. You’re with me. SPENCER, you have the helm.

TURNER punches a button on his chair.

TURNER:

Doctor, we’ll want you for the party. Just in case. Chief BRINKS, grab two of your men and meet at the airlock.

TURNER stands.

TURNER:

Let’s go see what we’ve gotten today.

EXT: SPACE, THE TWO SHIPS, FIRST ROTATION.

We see TURNER, HARTFORD, TRINN, BRINKS, CALO, and PETERS head into the evo tube from the Cybele. They move down towards the Dobruja and then stop at the airlock door for that ship. TURNER pulls out a comm from his belt.

TURNER:

SPENCER, cycle the Dobruja’s airlock.

SPENCER:

Roger that, cap.

TURNER:

Get out your guns, folks. You never know. BRINKS, take the lead.

BRINKS:

Aye.

BRINKS and his two men move to the front. They take position as the airlock opens. There’s a hiss of air, and then the door moves fully. BRINKS moves in, and his men flank, scanning the area inside the other ship.

TURNER:

Anything?

BRINKS:

It smells stale in here, sir.

HARTFORD:

Life support was said to be at a minimum. Air cyclers probably aren’t doing their jobs.

TURNER nods.

TURNER:

HARTFORD, take CALO and head to the bridge. Get the systems running again and start poring over the logs. BRINKS, you go with the Doctor and check the med bay. Maybe someone is on ice, or there are bodies, or something. PETERS, you’re with me. We’re going to the cargo bays. I want an explanation for what happened here before we even think of performing any kind of salvage.

HARTFORD:

Aye, sir. Everyone, you have your orders. Move out!

The crew head off on their various routes, checking feeds on their pocket scanners as they move into the ship.

INT: DOBRUJA, LOWER DECKS, FIRST ROTATION.

As the crew moves off, we can faintly hear them talking. But we shift down through the decks into a lower area, under the cargo hold. There, through a door, the camera moves, until a secluded corner. As the voices fade, and there’s just silence, we see a panel in the wall, that looks like every other panel, shift. It slowly slides aside, a single pale hand grabbing and pushing it out.

Out steps a woman, the VAMPIRE, pale, naked, looking weak and ragged. But she sniffs the air and there’s a feral energy that comes off of her. She listens, nodding as she hears something. She moves to a panel on the wall and pushes a button, booting it up. There she sees feeds of the crew, moving along through the ship. She smiles, knowing what is to come.

EXT: SPACE.

MAIN TITLE: DEAD IN SPACE.

End of Part 1:

There's a film, Dracula 3000, that is basically, "what if Dracula, but in space?" It's a terrible film, truly awful, but that idea of space vampires is amusing. Hell, Choose Your Own Adventure did more than one book playing with that idea. So I decided to take my own stab at it. We'll follow our own path for this, but the basic concept is, "what if vampire, but in space?"

I feel just a little bad for the crew. They don't have a clue what's coming...