The Regulators

For a second or two Steve did, and then a drop of sweat, warm and stinging, ran into his eye, and he relaxed his choke-hold just as Collie Entragian ran the makeshift belt tourniquet tight. Marielle lurched to the right, her baleful falcon’s gaze still fixed on the old guy, and her arm came off in the barechested cop’s hands. Steve could see her wristwatch, an Indiglo with the second-hand stopped dead between the four and the five. The belt held on at her shoulder for a moment and then dropped to the floor, a loop with nothing in it. The counter-girl shrieked, her huge eyes fixed on the arm. The cop looked down at it with his mouth open.

“Get it on ice!” Gary bawled. “Get it on ice right away! Right aw-” Then, all at once, he seemed to really realize what had happened. What the cop was holding. He opened his mouth, twisted his head in a peculiar way, and unloaded on the photo of the cigarette-smoking parrot.

Marielle noticed none of it. She staggered toward the clearly terrified veterinarian, her remaining hand outstretched. “I want a shot and I want it now!” she croaked. “Do you hear me, you old woman? I want a fucking shuh-shuh-”

She collapsed on to her knees. Her head drooped, hung. Then, with an immense effort, she got her chin up again. For a moment her gimlet gaze met Steve’s. “Who the fuck’re you?” she asked in a clear, perfectly understandable voice, then slid forward on her face. The top of her head came to rest inches from the heels of Peter, the man who had lost his wife. Jackson, Steve thought suddenly. That’s his last name, Jackson. Peter Jackson was still turned to the wall with his face clutched in his hands. If he takes a step backward, Steve thought, he’ll trip over her.

“Fuck a duck,” the cop said in a low, amazed voice. Then he looked down and realized he was still holding the woman’s arm. He walked stiffly toward the kitchen with it held out in front of him. The sound of rain hissing down seemed very loud in Steve’s ears.

“Come on,” the old party said, rousing himself. “We’re not done yet. Get that belt on her, son. Buckle in toward the breast. You game?”

“I guess,” Steve said, but he was very relieved when Cynthia the counter-girl picked the belt up and then knelt beside the unconscious woman with it in her hands.

From “The Force Corridor”, Episode 55 ofMotoKops 2200, original teleplay by Allen Smithee

ACT 2

FADE IN ON:

INT. CRISIS CENTER, MOTOKOPS” HQ

The room is dominated, as always, by the huge Situscreen. Standing before it on a floatpad is COLONEL HENRY, looking grave. Sitting at the horseshoe- shaped Crisis Desk are the rest of the MotoKops squad: SNAKE HUNTER, BOUNTY, MAJOR PIKE, ROOTY, and CASSIE.

On the Situscreen we see a SPACE VIEW. In the distance is Earth, just a blue-green coin at this distance. It looks peaceful enough.

SNAKE HUNTER (with customary scorn) So what’s the big deal? I don’t see anything that looks very-What the-??!!

Suddenly the FORCE CORRIDOR appears on the Situscreen, almost filling it, blotting out the stars on either side. It’s like watching the arrival of Darth Vader’s dreadnought at the beginning of the first Star Wars movie; in a word, awesome!

The CORRIDOR consists of two long metal plates with big square protrusions sticking out at intervals. The CORRIDOR HUMS OMINOUSLY, and BLUE FIRE CRACKLES from side to side between the square protrusions.

CASSIE STYLES gasps, looks at the Situscreen with dismay. COLONEL HENRY pushes a button on his hand-control, and the screen goes into FREEZE MODE. We can still see Earth, but with the corridor on either side, it looks caught in a potentially lethal WEB OF ELECTRICITY!

COLONEL HENRY (to SNAKE HUNTER) That’s the big deal! The Force Corridor, artifact of a long-vanished alien race! Destructive… and headed directly toward Earth!

CASSIE (dismay)

Oh, gosh!

COLONEL HENRY Relax, Cassie-it’s still over 150,000 light-years away. This is a composite shot.

MAJOR PIKE

Yeah, but how fast is it moving?

COLONEL HENRY That’s the problem. Let’s just say that if we don’t resolve this crisis in the next seventy-two hours, I think you can cancel your weekend plans.

ROOTY

Root-root-root-root!

SNAKE HUNTER Shutup, Rooty. (to COLONEL HENRY) So what’s our plan?

COLONEL HENRY takes the floatpad further up, so he can use his highlighter to circle a couple of the protrusions on the inner sides of the corridor.

COLONEL HENRY Drone telemetry reports that the Force Corridor itself is over 200,000 miles long and 50,000 miles wide, a hallway of death in which nothing can live! But it may have a weakness! I think these square shapes are power-generators. If we could knock “em out-

BOUNTY Are we talkin” Power Wagon assault, boss?

We move in on COLONEL HENRY’s grim face.

COLONEL HENRY

It’s Earth’s only chance.

INT. CRISIS DESK, WITH THE MOTOKOPS

SNAKE HUNTER A deep space Power Wagon assault? Could be a quick trip to that Boot Hill in the sky!

ROOTY

Root-root-root-root!

ALL

Shut up, Rooty!

INT. A HALLWAY IN THE CRISIS CENTER

COLONEL HENRY and CASSIE STYLES are in the lead, the other MotoKops behind them. ROOTY, as usual, is bumbling along in the rear.

COLONEL HENRY

You’re worried, little one.

CASSIE Of course I’m worried! Snake Hunter is right! The Power Wagons were never designed for the stresses of a deep space assault!

COLONEL HENRY But that’s not all that’s on your mind.

CASSIE Sometimes I hate your telepathy, Hank.

COLONEL HENRY

Come on… give.

CASSIE Something bothers me about those shapes inside the Force Corridor. What if they aren’t power-generators?

COLONEL HENRY

What else could they be?

They have reached the slide-door to the Power Wagon Corral. COLONEL HENRY slaps his hand into the palm-lock and the door slides up.

CASSIE I don’t know, but…

INT. THE POWER WAGON CORRAL, FEATURING THE MOTOKOPS

CASSIE gasps with shock, eyes widening! COLONEL HENRY, looking grim, puts his arm. around her. The other squad-members gather round

ROOTY

Root-root-root-root!

SNAKE HUNTER Yeah, Rooty, I couldn’t agree more!

He stares bitterly at:

INT. THE POWER WAGON CORRAL, MOTOKOPS” POV