Morning Star Page #3

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Webber and Dorna hit the street just in time to see her fall.

They fire at the blue car as it careens around a corner.

Dorna moves to check on the Italian agents. Webber sees thebomb-throwing urchin scamper - with inhuman agility- up acrumbling wall.

A GUNSHOT rings out behind Webber - Dorna, firing as he runs.

Webber now raises his own gun and fires at the scampering boy-

creature. He misses. Twice. Dorna finally hits the boy justbefore he almost disappears over the roof. The “boy” drops tothe street, hideously emitting that INHUMAN WAIL we’ve heardbefore, then freezing suddenly, eyes rolled back white, backarched unnaturally and one arm reaching into the air. Like aflash-preserved Pompeii victim.

WEBBER:

I gotta go back to my Smith-Wesson.

DORNA:

The ravages of time have somethingto do with it too.

Webber smiles. They move down the street to where Bewley,

distraught, kneels beside the mortally wounded female alien.

She repeats something indecipherable, over and over.

BEWLEY:

What’s she saying?

WEBBER:

She’s praying.

The alien reaches out with a trembling hand toward Bewley.

The young man reacts with disgust but takes her hand.

BEWLEY:

The words... she wants me to saythe words. I know this.

(MORE)

11.

BEWLEY (CONT'D)

She wants somebody to repeat back

the words...

The alien keeps trying to be understood with increasingdesperation. Bewley shakes his head apologetically.

BEWLEY (CONT’D)

A-na... utvass? I’m sorry. I

can’t...

Webber pushes the kid out of the way and puts the alien outof her pain with a point blank shot to the head. Bewley isshocked, tries not to show it. Webber holsters his weapon.

WEBBER:

A-na nathrat udvassun bethud nu

neldoc net nyenvai.

DORNA:

“I show my true face that you mayknow me when I come home.”

Webber nods to Dorna as he joins them.

Bewley looks shaken. Webber places a hand on his shoulder, abit stiffly, but it means something to the young man. Hestraightens up immediately.

BEWLEY:

You get used to it all, I suppose.

WEBBER:

No.

INT. A JET -- NIGHT

Webber and Dorna stow their bags like business commuters.

DORNA:

When you’re Sub-Director in D.C,

you’ll miss all this excitement.

Webber smiles at that. They find their seats.

DORNA (CONT’D)

Of course, you’ll have to startwrestling with a whole other leagueof questions- that’s the thing Ifind really gets to me these days.

The way questions... linger.

Webber looks over at him, intrigued - concerned?

12.

WEBBER:

What’s bothering you?

DORNA:

Why did she come back? The female. Weonly caught her because she came backto say goodbye to him. She knew shewas blown... Why come back?

WEBBER:

Maybe it was true love.

DORNA:

What if it was?

Webber looks at him. Are you being serious? Dorna startslaughing, though it’s not clear at all that he was joking.

EXT. PARIS - U.N. CO-OPERATIVE ZONE -- DAY

Webber buys french bread from a STREET VENDOR. An LCDbillboard on the quaint, cobblestone street displays a PSAabout ways to spot alien imposters as A SPHERICAL DRONE thatresembles a Mondrian sculpture patrols, scanning citizens.

DRONE’S POV:
Everybody shows as green.

INT. A CAFE -- DAY

Everyone’s glued to the same thing: a NEWS REPORT...

NEWSCASTER (O.S.)

UN officials are downplaying thesignificance of these talks but manyhold the hope that, after decades oftenuous truce, an era of true peacemay finally be at hand...

Only Webber has his monitor playing something else: adocumentary about Antarctica. He pokes at eggs. At the nexttable, a glum CUSTOMER in a festive holiday sweater grumblesloudly (in subtitled French)

CUSTOMER:

Peace? Surrender is what it is. That

dickless coward Voss at the UN...

Webber’s waitress - MIA, by nameplate, a pretty girl with astylized peace sign button on her uniform, gives Webber aconspiratorial smile along with a coffee refill.

13.

MIA:

Good to know somebody’s having aworse day than you, huh?

WEBBER:

It’s the holidays.

MIA:

I’ve always had the theory there’sa direct relationship between thenumber of reindeer on someone’s

sweater and their level of despair.

WEBBER:

(straining for polite)

The check?

MIA:

Forget it. You’re a neighbor.

(off his reaction)

I live across the walkway from you.

Webber nods. As the waitress walks away, it’s clear thisbrief, pleasant exchange has stirred some turmoil in him.

INT. A COMMUTER MONORAIL -- DAY

Webber stares blankly out the window. The statues of what wasonce the Jardin des Tuileries, half-submerged in fossilized

ash, pass by below. He shows a hint more emotion as he raiseshis eyes toward an enormous WALL in the distance, made fromsome seamless silver-grey metal, lined with sentry boxes. A

FEMALE TOURIST is taking pictures with her phone.

TOURIST HUSBAND:

That light, that’s the “MotherZone”. It’s like their airport.

Beyond that wall, the alien “Mother Zone” GLOWS brightly,

obscured by low, grey clouds. Webber looks at it, looks away.

INT. MEDICAL BUILDING -- DAY

A CAMERA POV scans green, registering Webber as he enters abuilding. He uses a card key to access a service elevator.

BASEMENT (U.N. “BLACK SITE”)

Webber steps off the elevator. A ping-pong table shares spacewith high-tech gadgetry.

14.

Bewley and a droopy-eyed Felton sit in front of a videomonitor: an ALIEN floats naked in a tank, tubes coming offhim. He looks serene and peaceful.

FELTON:

Like a baby. Deep in The Dream.

WEBBER:

How long till the next waking?

FELTON:

He’s been out seven minutes. He’s

talked a little. Second hand stuff.

BEWLEY:

He says an attack’s in the works.

WEBBER:

So he reads our news sites.

Felton looks at his watch, presses a button. A BUZZER goesoff in the cell. The Alien wakes. Eyes instantly floodingwith pain. Bewley looks troubled. Webber notes this. Bewleysees Webber’s noticed. He looks embarrassed by his reaction.

BEWLEY:

I know we’re well within the bounds-

legally and morally, but...

Bewley trails off. Webber nods.

WEBBER:

We should never forget thatsevering one of them from the Dreamis a brutal act of violence. If it

wasn’t, it wouldn’t be an effective

interrogation technique. It’d justbe rudeness.

Bewley nods, chastened. Webber stares into those agonized,

alien eyes on the monitor.

HALLWAY - LATER

Webber takes an energy bar from a jar. GIGGLES from theadjacent lunch room, and something that catches his ear...

MARLING (O.S.)

Webber’s the one you like. Admitit. Just don’t get your hopes up.

We call him “The Monk.”

15.

Webber peers in:
a young agent, MARLING, gropes a FEMALEAGENT as they converse over shared bites of yogurt with asingle spoon. When the female agent notices Webber there,

they straighten up quickly, awkwardly go back to work.

Once they’re gone, Webber looks with mixed emotion at theyogurt cup and spoon left behind, chucks them in the trash.

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