EST. WRECKED TRANSPORT YARD-DAWN
Drowned in viscous early morning light, towers of crushed Transports line the yard like a sub-aquatic Shakespearean stage set.
Women carry baskets of provisions through the yard and place them in a pile, as the Men prepare weapons, all in the same somnambulistic state.
Donde guides a large, pocked-up Remote Operations Vehicle through the morass of wrecked Transports, its hot blue engine-glow warming the rubble beneath.
Fighting off the cold, James rubs his hands together, then raises them to his lips, warming them with bursts of steam.
He looks over at Rae a short distance off, dark circles beneath her eyes, dwarfed inside the dead woman's coat. He looks away, her shabby state stinging him.
She runs over to Seldon, who sits perched on an engine block, hunched up, fretting over his bandaged ankle.
Rae squats to inspect it with him, then looks at James, his back to her. She picks up a pebble and throws it at him; it hits him squarely on the back. James freezes.
Rae picks up another rock, gets ready to throw, but notices its heart-like shape. She places it on Seldon's knee.
Seldon looks up, surprised.
Donde walks over to James.
The ROV is ready. It's a jacked to drive manually,
but you should be able to blend in with prisoner convoys
easily, mostly remote operated... my men will thermo-shield
themselves, and you will have to pretend to be prisoners.
Even so, hide the girl.
Just hide her.
Donde kneels and pinches Rae's cheek, a twinkle in his eye. Rae stands before him encased in a network of connecting lights, much like Daniel.
James pulls Rae behind him.
Have a safe trip.
Donde scans the rest of them, no one else illuminated.
James hands over the static weapons. Donde looks at the small pile in his hands, disdainfully, clearly lacking.