Chapter Twenty-Seven
The Trade
Mad Water Delta
Ext. Mad Water Delta — Night
The group stands at the water’s edge.
Above them, the mirage materialises, hovering directly over the sunken shuttle.
Danny
(pointing)
There! It’s back!
The craft begins to emit a low, harmonic HISS. The delta waters start to swirl, forming a massive whirlpool.
The water doesn’t spiral—it flows in geometric patterns. Hexagonal currents form and collapse, creating fractal drainage patterns.
Not the rush of water, but a deep GROANING as if the earth itself is in pain. Punctuated by sharp CRACKS as the seabed splits in perfect straight lines.
Steam rises from the exposed mud, but it moves wrong—flowing horizontally, forming symbols in the air before dissipating.
Fish caught in the draining water float motionless in mid-air, suspended between the departing water and the exposed ground, their gills working frantically.
Sarah
(gripping Blake’s arm)
What’s happening?
Feelgood
(awed)
They’re draining it. Their way.
The water level drops rapidly, revealing the seafloor.
Endurance II lies twisted among the mud and debris.
Near its broken hull, the Moon Creature fossils glow with ethereal light, protected by the swirling shadow of the spirit.
Ext. Drained Delta — Continuous
From the mirage, a golden alien craft descends.
It places the capsule containing Juba onto the exposed sand, yards away from the group, then hovers expectantly.
Amy
They’re waiting for something. I think I know what.
Ext. Drained Delta — Continuous
The Kutji Spirit swirls faster around the fossils, growing more solid and menacing.
The craft emits a brilliant flash.
A TRANSPARENT ORB materialises around the Kutji Spirit, trapping it.
The shadow writhes and pounds against its prison, but cannot escape.
Feelgood
(whispering)
Impressive. They’ve caged it. That can only mean one thing. Kutji was protecting the fossils. Oh shit, we got it wrong.
The craft now directly faces Matt.
A beam of light particles extracts the device from the shuttle wreckage, placing it on the sand before him.
Matt
(understanding)
They want it opened. Amy? Time for the can opener.
Amy kneels beside the device, her hands finding the sequence.
It responds to her touch like a living thing.
Panels slide apart with hydraulic precision, revealing crystalline matrices that pulse with internal light.
A tiny star emerges from the device.
Amy
The star doesn’t ignite—it condenses from the surrounding air.
Particles of light gather like iron filings drawn to a magnet, brightening the star, which hovers inches above the device.
Ascending scales of pure tone, each note doubling the frequency of the last, climbing beyond human hearing into ultrasonic ranges that make the air itself ring like crystal.
The effect creates localised thermal currents that make the air dance with visible distortion.
Amy
It isn’t just a machine. It’s a ritual. A kind of test. “No light may be summoned by those who do not carry shadow.”
Sarah
Sounds like dodgy poetry.
Amy
Yeah. The message said whoever opened it couldn’t be the one who built it. It had to be a witness. Me for now.
Feelgood
(nodding slowly)
That’s old truth. Sacred truth. The gift and the guilt—they have to share one heart. The power only answers to those who understand both. The aliens brought the fire, but only we could strike the match.
Feelgood
(looking at Amy)
That’s why it’s ok for you to activate but not to be the one who has to go. I got a feeling you’re missing something in your translation. Expect Juba any minute. And keep an eye on the moon.
Ext. Alien Capsule — Continuous
The capsule containing Juba begins to HISS open. The boy lies still, eyes closed, but breathing.
The star from the device grows brighter, casting dancing shadows across the exposed delta floor.
Ext. Drained Delta — Continuous
The fossils begin to levitate, drawn by an invisible force toward the open capsule.
Fleabag
(suddenly stepping forward)
Wait!
He runs toward the capsule, dropping to his knees beside the unconscious Juba.
Fleabag
(shouting)
Take me instead! I’m the bloodline! I’m the one who caused this!
Feelgood watches, his expression unreadable.
Feelgood
(under his breath)
Not sure there’s redemption for you yet, nephew.
Juba’s eyes flutter open. He sees Fleabag kneeling beside him.
Juba
(weakly)
Fleabag?
Fleabag
(gentle)
Yeah, boy. Time for me to do something right.
Juba slowly climbs out of the capsule. Fleabag helps him stand, then takes his place inside.
Fleabag
(to the group)
Tell them… tell them I tried to make it right at the end.
The three fossils float into the capsule, settling around Fleabag.
The star reaches its optimum intensity—a miniature sun pulsing with creative energy.
The star suddenly collapses, becoming a point of light that streaks toward the capsule.
It merges with the fossils in a flash of brilliant radiance.
The capsule HISSES shut. Fleabag’s face, peaceful now, disappears from view.
The sealed capsule rises into the air, absorbed into the golden craft.
The group watches expectantly as the sealed capsule—now integrated into its hull—pulses rhythmically.
Silence.
Long, tense moments pass.
Danny
Thought they’d be gone by now. Why aren’t they leaving?
The craft’s golden surface begins to darken, shifting to a more ominous metallic sheen.
The harmonious hum becomes mechanical, grinding.
Amy
Something’s wrong.
A harsh, wet expulsive sound—like a giant throat clearing—bursts from the craft.
Juba
No—
Something is FLUNG from the underside of the vessel.
It lands with a grotesque THUD in the sand—a twisted, broken body—Fleabag, spat from the craft like poison.
His limbs are tangled, his torso torn open, his face a mangled ruin.
Danny
(retching)
Streuth…
Feelgood
(staring at what’s left of Fleabag)
They rejected him.
Sarah
(shaken)
They bloody murdered him!
Amy
It wasn’t malicious. Their technology detected the corruption and… purged it. Like our bodies reject disease.
Matt
That’s their idea of cleansing?
Amy
For them, violence breeds violence. Probably couldn’t risk taking that contamination back to their realm.
Danny
Then what do they want?
Amy
(realisation dawning)
Feelgood was right. Cleansing Protocol is something else. It’s about the moon.
Everyone looks at Juba.
He stands still.
Quiet.
Resolute.
Juba
(softly)
So, it has to be me? What if it spits me out like that?
Feelgood
(stepping in front of him)
Not you. I’m not taking the risk.
Matt
You said yourself he’s of the line. That’s why they’d take him.
Feelgood
Exactly. And that’s why they won’t.
He turns toward the craft, stands straight.
Feelgood
(looking at each face in turn)
I’m the elder. The line flows stronger in me than in that boy. Whatever they want will be with me.
Blake
Feelgood, you don’t have to do this. We’re not actors in Spartacus. There must be another way.
Feelgood
(gentle smile)
Sixty years I’ve been telling stories about heroes who make the hard choice. Time to stop talking and start doing.
Juba
(desperate)
Uncle, I should—
Feelgood
(firm but loving)
You should live, nephew. Live and remember. That’s the harder job.
The hum softens.
The craft’s glow returns to gold.
Without any warning, Feelgood is hoisted from the ground.
He groans as he’s lifted, then gets absorbed into the gold.
The craft tilts, pulses once—then vanishes into the stars without any sound.
The group stands in silence, staring at the empty space above.
End of Chapter Twenty-Seven