A CREAKing, GROANing sound as a rusty old metal door is heaved open, letting dim light in from outside. Into the doorway step the silhouettes of two BREEN figures.
They step through the door and heave it closed behind them, resealing the darkness again.
One of them boots up a small palm beacon and places it on a surface, illuminating...
2 INT. SALAVAT COLONY - MAINTENANCE CRAWLSPACE
...the same small utility closet they hid inside in 14x02. The taller of the two Breen twists its helmet and lifts it off, revealing BASHIR, tired and sweaty and stressed.
Right back where we started.
Please tell me we won’t have to
sleep here this time, at least.
The other Breen also removes its helmet - SARINA.
You think I brought us here for
rest? Get your head in the game,
Julian. We need a quiet place to
go through the data we just stole,
and we can hardly go back to
Nar’s place, or the Warren.
She pulls out the portable data DEVICE from a pocket and hands it to Bashir. She removes her gloves and places them aside, takes the device back from him and gets to work.
Bashir watches her work in silence, admiring her dexterity and the intensity of her focus. She senses his look...
I’m just... impressed.
By my beauty, poise and grace?
Untainted by this alien culture’s
primary symbol of ugly conformity.
(looks down at
his own suit)
I, on the other hand, look like
a little boy playing dress-up.
It’s your youthful enthusiasm I’ve
always found attractive. I think
I’ve cracked the encryption - with
a little luck, we should have a
decrypted file in a minute or so.
She sets her device aside to do its work, and stretches out her own neck and arms. For all her greater experience in this line of work, it is still stressful. He pulls out two more of the FIELD RATIONS, and they eat while they can...
We need to talk.
(matter of fact)
Yes, I killed that man. I know
it’s not the choice you would have
made, but it was the right one.
By what reasoning?
If I’d just knocked him out and
left him there, sooner or later he
would have woken up and got help.
Then our covers would be blown.
Our covers will be blown anyway
when they check his computer and
see what kind of data we accessed.
Sarina walks away the few steps their hiding place allows, throwing her arms out in exasperation.
Yes, we’re playing a cat-and-mouse
game, Julian, I know that. I also
know you’re not used to this kind
of life. But I’m gonna need you to
get used to it pretty damn fast.
What does that mean?
You’ve been questioning my every
move since we got here. And that’s
fine, you have to learn. But we’re
getting close to crunch time, and
you need to stop asking questions
and start doing what we came here
to do. There’s no more time for
pangs of conscience, Julian. I’m
sorry that man had to die, but it
is done and you need to accept it.
Because it’s highly likely that he
won’t be the last person we
have to kill before this is over.
Bashir quietly absorbs the tirade. Sarina approaches, more conciliatory now...
Is there anything I’ve said that
is not eminently logical based on
our current circumstances and
the parameters of our mission?
And can you do it?
The device BEEPS. Sarina presses a few buttons, and the device PROJECTS a holo-image like inside their helmets, bright GREEN light that is almost blinding in the dark space. They both peer at it, trying to figure it out...
What are we looking at?
This factory is making precision
computer parts. Like components
for a chroniton integrator.
One of the critical elements in
a slipstream drive. Where do
the parts go after the factory?
Sarina reaches in to manipulate the holo-image, trying to find the answer to that... and is confused by the answer.
Straight to the waste processing
and recycling plant.
That has to be a mistake. Are the
records for the recycling plant in
That’s the spirit. Hold on... here
we go, yesterday’s report. Does
anything there look odd to you?
Bashir leans in, translating the Breen ideograms...
They’re shipping a lot of toxic
waste for remote disposal.
Millions of isotons in the last
month alone. I haven’t seen many
industries in this city that would
generate toxic waste, have you?
No... but I do see a lot of local
production plants sending masses
of material for recycling... and
almost the exact same amount
leaving the plant for disposal.
Wherever that material is going...
that’s the secret shipyard.
Do the manifests say where the
disposal site is?
No... that’s probably on a need-
Well, I can tell you one person
who’d need to know - the pilot of
the garbage scow that’s leaving
the plant in forty minutes.
Satisfied, Sarina shuts down the holo-image, grabs her own helmet and hands Bashir his. He takes it with solemnity.
Let’s go hitch a ride.
END OF TEASER