G.I. Jane Page #6

INTERCUT the others as they break rank to follow, eager to

see Cortez blow her off the course.

CLASS:

Lesgo, Cortez, LESGO, GO, GO!

Cortez belly-flops into the sand pit -- and snags going

under the barbed wire.

CORTEZ:

Sh*t of a saint...

Catching up, Jordan clears the wire without a hitch and

leads going into...

The rolling logs. They both tight-rope across nimbly and

bound on toward...

Rope climb. Jordan starts up at a decent clip -- but

Cortez comes from behind like a chimp on white sugar,

doubling her speed.

CLASS:

Take her, take her here, Cortez...

lookit that monkey-man go... hoo-

yah, hoo-yah...

Cortez reaches the top platform. Now he's faced with...

The high poles. He's seen others land sideways and pay

the price. Trying another way, Cortez takes a flying

leap...

And WHUMPS down with legs astraddle. He tried to cushion

the landing with his hands -- and failed magnificently.

His balls took the brunt.

Jordan WHUMPS down beside him with legs astraddle -- and

shoots Cortez a "Hey, no problem" look. She rolls off the

poles...

And drops to the pit below. Cortez lands right behind.

Now it's a flat-out sprint for...

The finish line. He takes her at the tape.

THE CHIEF:

Cortez, 93 seconds. O'Neil, 94.

Cortez, do a little rescue-recovery

on your gonads and line up again.

O'Neil... move ahead.

Heading back to the starting line, Jordan wheels around.

JORDAN:

Say again, sir?

THE CHIEF:

You heard me. Move on.

CORTEZ:

Aw, this is such bullshit...

Others GRUMBLE in commiseration. Jordan flushes with

anger.

JORDAN:

Chief, sir, I don't understand

why --

THE CHIEF:

Educate her, Pyro.

INSTRUCTOR PYRO:

Automatic five-second deduction,

which slips you under the wire.

It's called "gender-norming," O'Neil

-- standard procedure for all

females in physical training

courses. Where you been the last

few years?

JORDAN:

What "all females"? If I'm the

only --

THE CHIEF:

Twice now, I have said the words

"move on."

He turns his back, leaving no possibility of discussion.

Jordan stares after.

SLUTNIK:

Can't live with them, can't kill

them. What's the point?

MCCOOL:

Somebody throw a tent over this

circus.

WICKWIRE:

(low to Jordan)

Just let it go. If it's in your

favor, just shut the hell up and

take it.

EXT. B.O.Q. - CORONADO NAVAL BASE - NIGHT

Dressed in bathrobe, Jordan reaches her door. She pauses

to check...

The outdoor table. No visitors tonight.

INT. JORDAN'S B.O.Q. - CORONADO NAVAL BASE - NIGHT

Jordan pushes inside -- and stops when she sees the little

two-step platform. That awful crutch. Someone has put it

beside her bed.

Jordan wheels around to check...

EXT. B.O.Q. - CORONADO NAVAL BASE - NIGHT

The men' building. Slutnik and a few others loiter on a

balcony, mirroring her stare.

EXT. CORONADO NAVAL BASE - NIGHT

Hastily dressed, Jordan marches across the base. Her

march turns into an angry run as she cuts through parking

lots... jumps hedges... and finally reaches...

EXT. C.O.'S HOUSE - CORONADO NAVAL BASE - NIGHT

An on-base bungalow. Jordan bangs on the front door until

the C.O.'S scowling face appears.

JORDAN:

Pardon the hour, sir. But you told

me to come to you immediately if I

felt I was being mistreated in any

way.

C.O.

Didn't take long.

He waves her inside.

INT. C.O.'S HOUSE - CORONADO NAVAL BASE - NIGHT

C.O.

All right, lieutenant, give me a

name and specifics, I'll have the

X.O. file an action first thing in

the morning.

(waits)

A name?

JORDAN:

It's you, sir. And it started the

day I came here.

C.O.

(jolted)

Oh, really.

JORDAN:

It's this double-standard, the

separate quarters, the deferential

treatment. It's how you pulled out

my chair and nearly served high tea

the first time we met.

C.O.

Because I was civil, now you're

complaining.

JORDAN:

I can't afford civility, sir. How

am I supposed to fit in with these

guys when you've got me set up as an

outsider? Even if I make it under

these rules, I still lose, because

there'll always be a flag in my file

-- "Yeah, she made it, but..." I

mean, really -- why didn't you just

issue me a goddamn petticoat to wear

around the base?

C.O.

Did you just have a brain-fart?

JORDAN:

Pardon?

C.O.

Did you just barge in here and curse

at your base commander? If so, I

regard that as a bonafide brain-

fart, and I resent it when people

fart inside my home.

JORDAN:

I think you've resented me from the

start, sir.

Now, finally, her opponent steps into the ring. And he's

a bare-knuckle brawler.

C.O.

(building)

What I resent, lieutenant, is some

politician using my base as a test

tube for her grand social

experiment. What I resent is the

sensitivity training that is now

mandatory for my men... the day-care

center I have to build where an

officer's lounge used to be... and

the OB/GYN I have to keep on staff

just so someone can keep track of

your personal pap smears.

(drawing close)

But most of all, lieutenant, I

resent your perfume, however subtle

it may be, competing with the aroma

of my fine three-dollar-and-fifty-

nine cent cigar, which I will

happily put out this very instant if

the phallic nature of it happens to

offend your goddamn fragile

sensibilities. DOES IT?

JORDAN:

No, sir.

C.O.

No, sir, WHAT?

JORDAN:

The shape doesn't bother me. It's

just that goddamn rotten stench.

A dangerous beat -- before the C.O. disengages.

C.O.

Well. 'Least now we're talking the

same language.

(a beat)

So one standard. Is that what

you're after?

JORDAN:

Same rules for everyone, sir.

C.O.

Straight up?

JORDAN:

Across the board, sir.

C.O.

And if you just happen to wash out,

I won't have to contend with you

bitchin' to some hairy-chested

female Senator? And please note I

did not identify any one in

particular.

JORDAN:

Wouldn't dream of it, sir.

A deciding beat.

C.O.

Then good night.

JORDAN:

So I'll get a fair shot?

C.O.

You'll get everything you want,

O'Neil. Let's see if you want what

you're gonna get.

INT. BARBER SHOP - CORONADO NAVAL BASE - DAY

Jordan gets her hair cut to regulation length. It's over

in seconds.

INT. ADMINISTRATION - CORONADO NAVAL BASE - DAY

Jordan slaps down old room keys and new orders. Blondell

scans the paperwork with deepening concern.

BLONDELL:

This some kind of joke?

INT. JORDAN'S B.O.Q. - CORONADO NAVAL BASE - DAY

Jordan tosses her belongings into a laundry bag. She

slings the bag over her shoulder, boots aside the hated

two-step on her way out...

EXT. B.O.Q. BUILDING - CORONADO NAVAL BASE - DAY

... marches across the no-man's land...

INT. B.O.Q. ROOM - CORONADO NAVAL BASE - DAY

... and bangs open a door. Slutnik sits up on his bed.

SLUTNIK:

Well, who the sh*t you think you

are? Comin' in here like that?

JORDAN:

Your new roommate.

Slutnik's face curdles. Jordan dumps her bag on an open

bunk and starts unpacking.

JORDAN:

Anybody usin' these drawers here?

SLUTNIK:

Hey, hey, HEY. No possibility. You

can't stay in here. You can't sleep

right next to me.

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