The Retreat

People in many worlds fight the same thing: betrayal, oppression, brute violence, ignorance. They rise to the occasion in different ways – or fail to rise. The sapient dogs of kudzu-covered Atlanta escaped slavery, came together in the Great Pack, and now seek to strike against their once Masters. Two immortal men from a dead Brotherhood choose different paths to the same end: dragging mankind up out of the muck and into the stars on their world. In deep space, the seeds of violent conspiracy are laid when a transport ship is detonated beneath its crew, leading to an investigation which could turn up that which cannot be put down again. In another time, a 20-foot long Utahraptor from the Cretaceous is elected president with unexpected results, including his campaign promise: “I Probably Won’t Eat You.” What’s going on here? How are these things related? Is this science fiction or fantasy? Questions. There are always questions. (This is the  90 page pilot of a t...

HELLSTAR-4 EXT. CH-6-FAC-4 ROOF - NIGHT Laughlin and Hampton crouch low behind some unidentifiable rooftop debris atop the factory node adjacent to CH-6-FAC-3 and at an angle to RES-2 where the Hungry mercenaries are making their way through. Both are wearing tactical black, though DETEC is in broad white letters across their shoulders. Neither has a gun in hand, though the pistols on their hips seem to be larger than one would expect for service size. Hampton has a banged-about-looking SMG slung on his back, dangling like a messenger bag. Laughlin, adjustable binoc projector held high, scans the rooftops and walls. SY HAMPTON I hope to seven shades that this isn't what we think it is, Laughlin. That would be bad. DEREK LAUGHLIN And by that you mean "a lot of people will die," right? SY HAMPTON I mean a lot of people will be stuck doing a lot of paperwork, and by "a lot of people" I mean me. Nuclear warheads always take so much paper...

EXT. CH-6-FAC-3 - NIGHT The weather is rainy, nasty, just a little too much wind to even consider going out in it at all. The industrial block is just a formless outline against the rain-pouring sky. A sleek, black ship, unmarked, crawls through the winds and the rain. Rather than bounce away, the sheets seek to cling to it, enveloping it, obscuring it. The blunt prow pokes through every once in a while as it slithers forward. Black helmet and black face-mask obscure the pilot's eyes, but she gestures to and with the ship and it slips behind a group of buildings and drops out of line of sight without a murmur over the coursing of the rain. EXT.CH-6-RES-2 LANDING ZONE - CONTINUOUS The ship drifts over the edge of a large, square arco-building with a hollow center nearly filled by a courtyard, playground equipment tucked to the side and clearly not used for a long time. The swings shudder more than they're blown, the ship the size of two city busses side by sid...