Audition Script Scene One

Context: Zane is seeing his father projected as a hologram delivering Zane a prerecorded message, the first time he’s encountered his father in over 10 years. 

“Computer, play the video from the beginning,” Zane said.

“Hello, Buddy Boy!” Griff said cheerfully. Zane could almost remember his father calling him by those words and suddenly felt at home.

“If you’re watching this video, then something’s gone wrong and I’m not able to give you this information in person. I wanted to leave you a record of what has occurred and why it’s important for you to understand the events as they transpired.” Griff stopped talking and shook his head. “Listen to me. I sound like a dang automaton. Let me start over.”

Zane sat across the workbench from where his father sat, and it seemed as though he was speaking to him in person.

Griff continued. “I want you to know why your mother and I both gave our lives protecting you, and why it was necessary for us to do so. The first thing you need to know is your mother and I love you dearly, and we are so proud to be your parents. Every single day we give thanks to God for allowing us the privilege of calling you our son. And we’re both devastated we didn’t get to see the man you’ve become.”

Zane had to fight tears and paused the video for a moment while he collected himself. After a few seconds, he was able to resume.

“Where do I begin?” Griff shifted in his chair, and ran his fingers through his hair, but it looked the same afterwards. “There’s so much you need to know. And I’m worried I’m going to bore you to tears with all the details about things that may not matter to you.” He offered Zane a crooked smile. “I suppose it makes sense for me to start at my beginning, and progress to the point where everything fell apart.”

Griff shifted in his chair and seemed to be shifting his focus. “In a very real way, I think I share a portion of the blame for how things worked out and even for the outbreak of the Orbit War. Your mother, God rest her soul, always disagreed with me over my assumption of guilt, but when you know you could have done things differently and produced a different outcome, then you know you bear some responsibility.” Griff stopped talking and inhaled deeply. “God, I miss her,” he prayed and exhaled at the same time. “She was the best part of me. Well, until you came along.” Griff’s hand lifted to his eyes and he said, “So, you might ask, how did your crazy father end up being responsible for the Orbit Wars? The answer may surprise you.

“When I was still a kid, my big brother, Frederick, and I were best buddies. He was older than me, and as far as I was concerned, he could do nothing wrong. But one day, I was about nine-years-old, we were traveling from school to home when our craft was hit by another craft. The craft was in front of us one moment, and then it was flung into the air. As soon as it was airborne, the magnetic safeties kicked in and the craft was suddenly pulled back to the strip. Only, it landed on top of us with so much force our craft was completely crushed. Freddy and I were trapped in the back seat, and the roof of the craft was squishing my brother. He was brave and strong. But he was in serious pain. His nanites couldn’t work fast enough. The emergency crews were busy trying to cut him out of the vehicle, but something went wrong—again. The magnetic safety locks on the other craft were still malfunctioning. As soon as the emergency crew was able to reach Freddy, the other craft collapsed on top of him ... crushing him. He died holding my hand. I felt so helpless.”

Zane could see the emotion on his face and could see the evidence of a tear.

“I was upset, and I felt lost.” Griff looked down at the table and seemed to be examining his fingernails. “I kept thinking about the accident and came to realize we could have saved him if they could have cut the metal easier. Titanium is tough stuff! So, I started experiments where I attempted to disrupt the bond holding atoms together. I was hoping to develop a device capable of simply slicing through any material, no matter what its composition. But what I accidentally did was develop an earthquake machine. That is, I designed a machine capable of matching the harmonic resonance of basic atomic structure, which is the heart and soul of Superstring Principle. When I matched the resonance of any item, it would lose structural integrity and become dust. Atomic dust.

“My idea was sound, even if it didn’t perform exactly as I imagined. My teachers had me enter my device in the national science fair, and I won a full scholarship to MIT.

“For my graduate work, I transferred to Cambridge, which is where it all really started. That’s where I met a fellow student named Robert Spiers. He was from Mars Colony and one of the only people I’d ever known who was from there. He had an extra bedroom in his apartment, and I was looking for a roommate. Talk about a break! His generosity really made a difference. But if I knew what was going to happen …

“Well, I’ll try not to get too far ahead. He and I were friends. And we hung out together. Oh, he had funny ideas about religion. Well,” Griff offered Zane his almost crooked smile. “His ideas were funny to me, but they sure made sense to a lot of others. He was all about the Whole Man religion, which I won’t get into here. But with me having a Christian background, we often collided in our worldviews. He was certainly not a fan of Earth society, even though he was deeply fascinated by how Julius Caesar rose to power and destroyed the Roman Republic. Oh,” Griff was getting fired up now. “He was all about Nero and his purge of Christianity from Rome.”

Griff shook his head, as if he had trouble believing what he was saying. “We always thought Mars Colony was simply Earth people colonizing a new planet. We had no appreciation for how different they were from us. They were so far away and living such different lives, they really were a different people from us, despite our common ancestry. To me, meeting someone from Mars Colony was an exotic treat. However, to them, it was much more hostile. They were easily offended by many Earth things and seemed to take it personally when things didn’t go their way. Their thought patterns were fundamentally different than ours. In fact,” Griff stopped speaking and chuckled at himself. “Oh, you don’t care about things like this. Let me get back to how I helped start the Orbit War.

“Rob Spiers and I were friends. He was getting ready to submit his thesis paper, which was a requirement to graduate. He was working on some difficult notions about the Superstring Principle and proving the existence of a twelfth dimension. Talk about some really lofty theory!” Griff leaned back in his chair. “I’m much more of a practical scientist. All my work has physical application, and I can demonstrate my work in a practical way. But Rob’s work … let me tell you, it was so theoretical, he had trouble getting his professors to approve his thesis topic, much less support his paper. It was certainly borderline science fiction and hovered on the edge of philosophical. But again, you probably don’t care about those things.

“When Rob submitted his paper, it was rejected. His professors called him reckless and stubborn. And they told him to submit something they could support, or he would wash from the PHD program.

“Oh, he was outraged.” Griff almost smiled again. “I’ve never seen anyone so upset. First, they offended his pride. Second, he interpreted his rejection as being from Mars Colony, or Draco, as he liked to call it, rather than a scientific issue. In his mind, he was being discriminated against because of where he was born.

“Well,” Griff stood and walked around at this point. “Science always came easy for me. I can close my eyes and see theorems and formulas and equations, and I can see how they fit together. I can think in purely mathematical terms. So, proving my research was a snap. In fact, I wrote several thesis papers while I was in the doctoral program. I would write a paper and then see an obvious flaw and throw it away. I wrote about seven papers before I finally submitted my last one for graduation.

“But Rob … well, he felt entitled. The world owed him. Earth owed him. And he was going to claim what was due. He saw me throw away one of my papers. And that rascal picked up my paper and submitted it as his own work. Somehow, he convinced his professor he had a major shift in focus and was now an expert in Harmonic Resonance. He graduated and was honored for his innovative work.” Griff was visibly agitated. “I had no idea any of it happened. I had another year to go before I could submit my paper.” Griff was still walking around, waving his finger in the air. “And when I did submit my paper, I was accused of plagiarizing Robert Spiers’s work. Oh, I was livid.”

Griff was still livid. He leaned forward, placing his hands on the workbench. “Well, it didn’t take much for me to examine Spiers’s paper and point out the flaw in my original calculations. When I proved it was my work, the school relented. In fact, they did something highly controversial. They stripped Spiers of his PHD.” Griff looked directly into the camera. “I know, right? Talk about huge!”

“And when he got caught, instead of accepting the consequences, he blamed me, and Cambridge, and even Daisy.” Griff was still pacing and when he mentioned Daisy, he became even more animated. 

“Anyway, Spiers graduated from Caligula University in Rome with a PHD in philosophy, entirely on his invention of the Whole Man religion. He never intended on making a religion, but that’s what happened. His ideas were so well received on Mars Colony, he was almost as powerful as the Pope, himself. Mars Colony absorbed his ideas and made him the Governor of the entire planet. He and his Skin Walkers.” Griff almost spat. “Okay, I’m off topic again. But Spiers and I were no longer friends. And once he became hostile against Daisy, well, we were done. And then he sent his goons to kill you and your mother, and all to capture me and my plans.” Griff sat back down, clearly drained from his story. “Look, this is a long story. And I’m beat. How about we pick this up later?”

Zane reached out to touch the hologram, but it shimmered where his hand broke the projection. He’d give anything for it to hug him. “See you later, Dad,” he whispered.

Audition Script Scene Two

Context: On the moon, Gillian just flunked a mandatory Pass or Fail test to repair her space suit in a vacuum using a device called “Pink Air” and will now be sent home. 

Zane and Miguel found Gillian sitting in the corner of the Common Room, which was much smaller than the enormous hall they enjoyed at Holloman. The drab, gray walls offered her no comfort, and they could tell her eyes were puffy and red. She looked depleted, as if all her life force had drained away and she was simply operating from muscle memory without deliberate effort.

The Section 8 crew, minus Koris, gathered around her with heads hung low and apologetic. Dodge was the first to speak. “Girl, this blows. I’m sorry.”

She fought the tears. “Yeah. Me too.”

Miguel’s frustration was apparent to all. “What the heck happened in there? You knew what to do.” His words were sharper than he intended, and he frowned. “I don’t mean to accuse you of …”

Gillian lifted a hand to silence him. “No worries.” She exhaled. “I honestly don’t know what happened. I kept trying to get my pink air, but it wouldn’t release from the case.” Her words were slow and deliberate. “The harder I tried, the worse it got. Before long, I was out of time and passed out.”

“Has that happened before?” Memphis asked carefully.

“You mean not releasing? No. Never.” She reached to rub her temples. “Man, have I got a killer headache.”

“Then why wouldn’t it release?” Zane demanded. He was angry and didn’t try to subdue his tone.

“No idea,” she insisted. “Look, it happened. I failed the test.” She blinked several times. “And I’ll go home,” she said anemically.

“When?” Dodge asked carefully.

“Tomorrow afternoon. Apparently, they have to arrange a fighter escort. Otherwise, they would send me today.”

“No.” Miguel shook his head and greatly resembled a bull. “No. This isn’t going to happen. We’ve come too far to fall apart now.”

Gillian reached for his hand. “It’s okay, Miguel,” she said softly. “It’ll be okay.”

“Clearly you did something wrong,” Weldon observed and immediately received Miguel’s stern glare.

“That’s just it,” Gillian said softly. “I’ve done that drill several dozen times. I knew what to do, and I knew how to do it. I’m sure I did nothing wrong.”

“Wait,” Miguel leaned forward. “What are you saying?”

She exhaled. “Nothing.” She looked down at the floor. “It just doesn’t make sense. Why would my pink air container suddenly malfunction during the Cut?”

“I don’t think it would,” Miguel snapped. “Something’s not right.”

Memphis, who had been largely silent up to this point, said. “You’ve done nothing wrong.”

“Thanks, Memphis,” Gillian smiled miserably. “But it’s too late.”

He shook his head. “Not so fast. I’ve been watching the replay, and I see something very odd.”

That brought on several excited comments at the same time.

“Replay?” (Zane)

“What do you mean?” (Miguel)

“It is not appropriate to record training sessions without permission.” (Weldon)

Miguel lifted a hand to silence Weldon, and then turned to Memphis. “Bro? You were recording the tests?”

“Well, not all of them. Just mine and Gillian’s,” Memphis said apologetically. “I mean, I wasn’t there to record your tests, or I would have.”

“Forget that.” Dodge glanced around. “What did you record?”

“Well, I was shocked, and I didn’t get any quality close ups, but I think we can replay this and see something was truly wrong.”

Dodge shook his head. “You mean we can see what you recorded?”

“Yeah,” he shrugged. “We just need a wall to project upon.”

As a group, they turned and started scanning the Common Room. It was crowded with cadets, who had little space to spread out and have more privacy.

“There is no place,” Miguel spat. “People are everywhere.”

“What about the corridor?” Zane asked.

“Too busy,” Memphis dismissed.

Dodge cleared his throat. “You’re missing an obvious place.” All eyes turned to him. “The head.”

“Excuse me?” Gillian whispered loudly. “You expect us to go into the bathroom. Together?”

He shrugged casually. “Why not? It probably won't be the first time co-eds were in the same bathroom at the same time.”

“Perfect. Let’s do this,” Zane agreed. “It won’t take long and probably no one will notice if we don’t draw attention to ourselves.” He glanced around the room and realized Drake was watching them with a curious frown. He looked away.

Gillian saw his expression. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he dismissed. “I’m just tired of Drake stink-eyeing us all the time.”

“She’s not upset to see Gillian sent home,” Miguel fumed.

“I’d feel better if she seemed more surprised and less amused,” Dodge observed.

Miguel looked around. “Now’s a good time to visit the head.” The group stood in unison.

“Guys,” Dodge’s sly grin was obvious. “You’ve never had to sneak around before, have you? We can’t all just get up and go to the same bathroom at the same time. Play it cool. We’ll trickle in, so to speak.”

Memphis nodded. “Yeah. I’ll go run a test and see if it’s doable.  I’ll let you know.”

A minute later he sent a confirmation text via ocular computers. “Looks like we have a green light,” Miguel said and made his way across the room.

The group slowly worked their way across the Common Room to the restroom near the shower tubes. Memphis cracked the door on the men’s restroom and motioned for them to come in. Miguel held up a hand to stop Weldon. “Bro. Cover our six.”

“I beg your pardon?” Weldon asked.

“Guard the door. Don’t let anyone in.” When Weldon hesitated, he said, “It’s the smart play. And you’re the smartest of us. It makes sense.” Miguel shut the door on him to stifle his objection.

Memphis blinked a few times and then a beam of light shot out of his eyes and onto the gray walls. “Not the best format or resolution, but this will work.” After a few seconds, the image of Gillian appeared on the wall. They watched her struggle to clear the case but couldn’t identify the problem. “Wait for it,” Memphis whispered. In the film, Gillian turned slightly to the right, giving Memphis a better view. “There,” he pointed.

“Dude,” Miguel snapped. “Stop moving. The picture is jumping around.”

“What are we looking at?” Dodge asked.

“Wait. Let me zoom in.” The picture grew larger until they could see a closer view of Gillian’s backpack and the pink air case.

“No way,” Miguel spat. “No freakin’ way.”

“What is it?” Gillian leaned closer.

“Shine,” Dodge whispered when he saw it. “Can you freeze that image?”

“You bet,” Memphis mumbled and then the video froze. “Let me zoom just a tad closer … there. It’s fairly obvious.”

Zane still hadn’t seen what everyone was gawking at. “Where?”

“Right there,” Miguel pointed. “Her canister is tied to her case with a piece of string. No matter how much she tugged it wouldn’t release. And look at the knot. It’s all messed up. I’m surprised it held.”

“But—who?” Gillian asked. “And why?”

“I know exactly who it was,” Miguel fumed. “Drake and her little sidekicks.”

“I don’t disagree,” Dodge confided. “But we have no proof.”

“So?” Miguel was ready to storm the gates.

“We can’t just walk around blasting accusations.”

Miguel’s face turned an ugly shade of red. “Man. I hate them.”

Zane thought for a second. “Well, maybe we know more than we think.”

Gillian leaned forward. “Go on.”

Zane hesitated to make sure he was speaking clearly. “So. Yesterday I was talking with Drake, and she told me I needed to abandon you.” He looked around. “All of you.”

Dodge shook his head. “Sorry, Bro. That’s not enough.”

“There’s more. Today during the tests, we were sitting together on the benches. Drake asked Koris if he ‘had everything covered.’”

“Okay,” Dodge smiled. “That’s interesting.”

“Koris nodded and said he had it covered.”

“But what is it?” Miguel demanded.

“I’m guessing sabotaging her gear.”

Dodge shook his head. “Not good enough. We need something that connects Koris to her gear.”

“Bah!” Miguel moaned. “We don’t have anything.”

“We have the evidence of sabotage,” Zane said hopefully. “I mean, we all saw the footage.”

“Bro,” Dodge said sadly. “We can’t show this footage to anyone. The first thing they’d do is ask where we got it. ‘Why, right here, Drill Sergeant. Memphis has a secret computer hidden away that he uses to control everything he’s not supposed to.’”

Zane sagged. “Yeah. There’s that.”

“If only we could tie that string to Koris,” Gillian moaned.

“I’ll tie it around his neck,” Miguel glared.

“Nice!” Dodge fist bumped him.

Zane stood taller. “What a minute … Maybe we can. Back in basic.” He glanced around. “Remember the day we played the war games, and I captured the flag? Well, Koris was in the squad. And I had him tie a few knots from some of our three-point harnesses to make a litter.” He was beaming with pride.

“And?” Dodge prompted.

“And he kept tying it wrong, and I had to keep fixing his mistake.”

“Okay,” Dodge motioned for him to continue.

“And several of us saw his knots. They’re just like the one today.”

Dodge shook his head. “Circumstantial. At best.”

“What if,” Miguel started. “We get him to tie the knot again. I’ll bet anything he messes it up.”

“I know he will,” Zane agreed.

Gillian was not convinced. “And how do we get him to do that? Offer him a treat?”

“I have an idea,” Zane whispered. “And it will require us to sneak away after lights out.”

“Then we better leave Weldon behind,” Miguel warned. “But I’m in.”

Gillian laughed. “You don’t even know what it is.”

Miguel shrugged. “If it saves you, it’s worth the risk.” He smiled when her face turned red.

“What the heck?” Dodge grinned. “I’m always up for some late-night action.” It was his turn to smile at Gillian.

She rolled her eyes. “Well. The way I see it. I have nothing to lose. Let’s do it.” She turned to Memphis. “You?”

“Man, I don’t know … That’s asking a lot.”

Zane was patient. “You know we’d do it for you. Besides, you’re the most important person in this caper.”

“Caper?” Memphis seemed to chew on the word as if savoring it. “Why not?”

“We’d better get out of this bathroom before anyone notices,” Dodge suggested. He opened the door to peek out and was greeted by a round of applause from everyone in the Common Room.

“What were you doing in there?” asked Trygsland with a wide grin.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I drew you a picture,” Dodge grinned back. “But it was fun!”

Audition Script Scene Three

Context: Drake failed to meet her secret objective with Zar Nero and is now having to account for her failure and expecting to be executed. They are aboard his flag ship, Draco Prime. Ares is Zar Nero’s Martian Wolf Hound—a vicious killer.

The young woman was dragged by her hair through the open door and deposited on the floor as if she was yesterday’s trash. She said nothing and only moved enough to prostrate herself and wait.

Zar Nero turned from his port hole and looked down at the crumpled heap littering his floor. His fingers flexed, and Ares was at his side, a low, deep snarl vibrating from the depth of his chest. He allowed several seconds to pass, giving the girl a chance to speak, but she refused to move. “You failed to complete your mission,” he hissed with his wheezy voice, breaking the silence.

Still, she declined to speak. Was it because of her fear or was she intelligent enough to know when to guard her silence? Nero’s finger brushed along the mongrel’s back as he contemplated what to do with yesterday’s trash. The girl might prove to be useful if she was smart enough to fight her fear and allow herself to be judged.

“You were given a second chance when I chose to save you from a life in prison. You accepted my terms. You accepted your mission, which was twofold. You were to remove the crystal from the display. This much you accomplished, even if by accident. You were also required to bring the Banach boy to me. I would have preferred his arrest as compliance, just as if he came voluntarily. But in this you failed, and now no one knows where he’s gone.” He brushed Ares again with one long stroke using the back of his finger. The dog leaned forward, ready to attack. “What do we say about our missions when we accept them?”

“On my life, Sire,” she said with clarity, though Nero could hear the fear she was controlling, and he could see her clenching her muscles with anticipation of Ares’s attack.

“Tell me why you failed to complete your mission.”

“Sire, I failed my mission because Zane Banach proved to be smarter than me. I thought I could manipulate him and frame him. I failed to anticipate he might be plotting to defeat me by stealing the crystal before I could.”

Nero contemplated her answer. She was direct and concise. She didn’t create excuses, nor did she ask for mercy. She accepted her failure and accepted her fate. His people in Artemis said she showed tremendous potential, knew how to work her assets, and was a master manipulator. Was she manipulating him, even at this very moment? A thin smile crept across his pasty narrow lips. If she had the nerves to manipulate him during her darkest hour, then she would prove to be useful. Clearly this woman was a survivor.

“Why should I spare your life?” he hissed at her, his words pressing out as if he refused to open his mouth to speak. Several seconds passed and he almost believed she was not going to answer him.

“I don’t deserve to have my life spared, Sire.”

His smile returned. “Rise to your knees, girl. I want to see your face.”

She immediately complied but didn’t look at him. Her eyes remained fixed on the floor.

“Tell me what thoughts went through your mind before you answered my question.” His voice wasn’t as pressed as before.

She inhaled before responding. Her voice was calm and deliberate. “First, I thought I’d promise to bring you Zane Banach. Second, I thought to tell you that I wouldn’t fail you again. And then I realized my best chance of survival was to prove I was smart enough to accept your judgment and embrace my fate.”

He was delighted with her answer. She showed enough self-awareness to understand her own thought process. She also demonstrated respect for him by providing a deliberate compliance with his question. He expected her to ask for clarification before answering, but she knew what he was asking and simply complied. She was still manipulating him, and they both knew it. But she was manipulating him with strategic compliance.

“Tell me, do you love Mars Colony or hate the Earth?”

“Neither, Sire,” she said without hesitation. “I don’t care who wins. I don’t care about the cause.”

“What do you care about?”

“Surviving,” she said simply. She was being honest, which was something he rarely experienced.

“If I spare your life, what assurance can you provide that you won’t betray me?”

Her lips pursed together, and she inhaled again. “Sire? May I speak plainly?”

He had to suppress the desire to laugh. “Oh, by all means.”

“I can’t offer you any assurances. I am who I am. And I am a survivor. You are in control, Sire. And for me to survive, I must submit myself to you. I would do the same for Rome, if I was kneeling before them. But once I offer my fealty, I won’t betray it.”

“This is complete feculence,” he said with finality. “But I accept your tarnished feculence.” He lifted his fingers and Ares returned to his bed near the window. “I have a use for you. Rise, and accept your fate.”