High Moon Page #5

Synopsis: The whole Moon has been divided into 5 zones (related to Earthen countries), and there is one monopoly consortium which sells the oxygen to everyone. Each zone is focused on extracting precious Helium-3. The lunar-suits provide self-gravity, and they create their own invisible helmet to contain the oxygen. The North-American zone is under the control of an Army General, and the civil workers are Earthen convicts. One of those criminals finds what seems to be a red lunar-flower with blue roots in the site of an inspection, on Moon surface. Few seconds after he touches that flower, there is a huge explosion in a nearby crater which began a moon-quake that swallows the convict and others. The appointed detective for investigation is the elder brother of the convict who touched the flower. The inquiry unveils a huge mystery that involves Russians, Indians, Japanese, the consortium, Helium-3, the convict, the fragile General's daughter, a mysterious technological gay spy Russian officer, so
Genre: Drama, Sci-Fi
Director(s): Adam Kane
Production: Universal Cable Productions
  2 nominations.
 
IMDB:
5.0
Year:
2014
90 min
68 Views


There's certainly nothing

romantic about oxygen logs.

According to this,

they haven't used oxygen

in three months.

Must be a hoax.

Tastes like oxygen.

Maybe they figured out

a way to make it synthetically.

Maybe they did...

And maybe it poisoned them.

Maybe we're being poisoned

right now.

Maybe you are.

Eyes...

Ambassador Ravimurtha?

Eyes...

Sir...

What happened here?

Darkness.

Where are the others?

They are here.

Eyes in the darkness.

I see them...

And they see you.

Okay.

Where did his eyes go?

Where did he go?

Filipov?

Filipov?

What... is that?

A giant human cephalopod.

What in the high hell

were these people doing here?

Where is my brother?

A dinosaur stepped on him.

It's been a very strange day.

Somebody get Japan on the horn!

Handcuff them

and get 'em out of...

Sir, he doesn't have hands.

They're over here.

Put your weapons down.

Stick a cork in every blowhole

this base has

and stop them

before they get out.

Yes, sir.

Please stand by

as we connect your call.

Thurgood.

This is the emergency line.

Sir, you need to implement

section 361 immediately.

Tell me

exactly how

one isolated explosion

can mushroom into

a quarantine of the Moon?

Please.

An entire colony of people

is missing.

There are reports of...

Impossible biological entities.

I personally witnessed

a man disappear into thin air

beneath the gaze of 10,000

de-socketed human eyeballs,

and everyone here is breathing

oxygen of an unknown origin.

Now, Mr. secretary,

whatever is causing all this

is some kind of something

that should be contained.

The Earth cannot

survive without the Moon,

so you damn well better

deliver me some answers soon

and keep this quarantine quiet!

Yes, sir.

We keep thinking

the flower's new.

Maybe it's super-old,

but it's just always

fed off helium

trapped deep down in the Moon.

Yes.

We mined its food,

so it grows out

further and further,

until it poops

through the surface.

"Popped."

Pooped? Popped.

We are on the verge

of explaining

how a flower can

grow in a vacuum.

If my brother were here,

I would politely

tell him to "suck it."

Yuck.

Ahem.

Brothers make terrible fathers.

Mm. Pretty sure

you were a delight.

By the way, your relationship

sounds super-healthy.

I said "politely."

And this coming from

the girl who calls

her dad "the general."

Okay, um, the difference is,

I love the general.

Well, I love Ian.

But he has got so much

riding on being right,

and he's so freaked out

he's gonna be wrong,

he has to mentally eviscerate

everybody around him

so that his brain

doesn't eat itself.

I just wish my brain was

big enough for the both of us.

Sounds like regret.

There! Check it out!

Back up, back up,

back up, back up, back up!

Open emergency frequencies.

Hailing general

Gale Lynn winehart.

Did you die?

You wish.

How far did we fall?

I can't see the hole above us.

I'm stuck.

Shimmy!

I am shimmying!

Okay, well, shimmy harder.

I'm giving you a hard shimmy.

Shut up and save your oxygen.

They won't find us

under all this rock.

I've got a signal topside.

Hey...

Hey. I know what

you're thinking,

but if you go

into one of those caves,

you'll be lost forever.

Don't even think about it.

Mikiko'll send help.

Yeah, but... listen.

It's my fault

that you're even in this mess.

It's your fault I'm even alive.

You've saved me three times now.

It's starting

to get embarrassing.

Three minutes

to oxygen depletion.

Three minutes?

Yeah, I snuck out

of the american base,

like, four hours ago now.

Initiating plasma link.

Oxygen transfer in progress.

What are you doing?

You're gonna need

all your oxygen.

I'm just trying to

give you a fighting chance.

I have to find

a clean signal to the surface.

Don't worry, okay?

Mikiko will have extra o-2.

- Yama, don't...

- Don't die!

Whoa...

What exactly were your brother

and your daughter

hoping to dig up?

I think a little grim silence

might do us all some good.

Evading is an even greater enemy

of the truth

than stalling, agent Thurgood.

It's our allegiance

to secrets and lies

that landed us in this hassle.

Your holding everyone's

oxygen for ransom

is what caused

this "hassle."

Without my oxygen,

you'd be mining helium

with a hammer and sickle

for your comrades in baza kedr.

I single-handedly prevented

a russian monopoly on the Moon,

then I sacrificed

sound business practice

by letting everybody get

a free slice of the moon-pie.

That idealism failed.

Now...

You get to work for me,

transparently,

to deliver the future

our forebearers promised...

Or I bowl you over.

Oxygen depleted.

Oxygen levels replenished.

Ian...

We were looking for the flower.

I know.

I believe you.

Where is Yama?

She's not with you?

She was looking for a way out.

Oxygen depleted.

Oxygenated environment detected.

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John Christopher

Sam Youd (16 April 1922 – 3 February 2012), known professionally as Christopher Samuel Youd, was a British writer, best known for science fiction under the pseudonym John Christopher, including the novels The Death of Grass, The Possessors, and the young-adult novel series The Tripods. He won the Guardian Prize in 1971 and the Deutscher Jugendliteraturpreis in 1976. Youd also wrote under variations of his own name and under the pseudonyms Stanley Winchester, Hilary Ford, William Godfrey, William Vine, Peter Graaf, Peter Nichols, and Anthony Rye. more…

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Submitted on August 05, 2018

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