EFC - The Untold Stories
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: EFC is the property of Tribune Entertainment. No Copyright infringement is intended.
“EFC - The Untold Stories”
The scene is tense. Liam is running swiftly through the dark abandoned streets of D.C. his overly tight shirt drenched with unbelievably well distributed sweat.
The music swells to a crescendo.
Liam runs into Renee’s office. “Sorry I’m late.” He pants. “I almost got stopped by a cop on my way here.”
The musical overture jerks to a halt on a flat note.
Renee smirks at him. “What for?” She asks sarcastically. “Jay-walking?”
“Very funny. Shouldn’t we be going?” He asks.
“No.” Renee answers. “The raid’s been canceled.”
Liam drops into a chair. “Canceled?” He asks unbelieving. “What does the ANA think its doing. Honestly.”
He rubs his forehead. “How are we supposed to defeat the Taelons if we don’t take action?”
Renee shrugs. “Squirt guns.”
“Huh?” Liam asks.
“Never mind.” She answers.
They both stare at each other for a minute or so. “So…” Liam starts, “what are we going to do tonight?”
“The same thing we do every night, Liam. Try to save the world.” Renee starts poking keys on her computer.
Liam waits for a moment, and then walks around the computer to see what she’s doing. He flips the off switch.
“Heh!” Renee says slapping his hand.
“You were playing Solitaire.” He says seriously. “You’re supposed to be figuring out what we’re supposed to be doing tonight.”
Renee scowls at him. “Well I don’t know! You’re the leader of the damn Resistance; you tell me!”
“Well,” he scratches his head, “we can tap the Taelon embassy and listen to Da’an’s private conversations.”
“We did that last night.”
“We can infiltrate the Volunteer ranks..”
“…did it…”
“…spy on Sandoval…”
“…last week…”
“Blow up the Mothership?”
Renee smacks Liam over the head. “And if you keep scratching your head like that, all your hair is gonna fall out.”
“I know!” Liam shouts as he stands up dramatically. Heroic music blares behind him. “We’ll ask Street. She always knows what to do.”
Renee and Liam both get up hurriedly, and jog toward the door.
Will their plan come to fruition in time….
Zo’or drums his fingers on the arm rest. Then he lifts his hand high in the air, and proceeds to slam it down on his panel.
The arm flies of the chair and bounces across the bridge.
Zo’or snickers, as the only Volunteer left on the bridge nearly jumps out of her uniform.
“Zo’or?” She asks quietly, looking prepared to make a sprint toward the nearest exit.
Zo’or gets out of his chair and slowly saunters across the deck. “Do I…. Frighten you Volunteer?”
The terrified woman grips the panel she’s working on. “N-n-no Zo’or.” She stutters.
Zo’or frowns. “You’re dismissed.” He says, trying to be as menacing as possible.
The Volunteer bolts in the opposite direction.
Zo’or sits back down in his chair. He tries to drum his fingers, but his favorite arm rest is missing.
He walks across the bridge, retrieves old reliable, and snaps it back onto his chair. He activates a data stream, and Sandoval pops on the screen, his eyes squinting shut.
“Yes, Zo’or.” He mutters.
“I require your assistance on the Mothership at once.”
“Zo’or, it’s one in the morning.”
Zo’or stands up again. “Do you dare defy me?”
Sandoval doesn’t move from his bed. “The D.C. portal system is down for another five hours. It’ll have to wait ‘til morning.”
“I have heard of no such malfunction.” Zo’or retorts.
Sandoval opens a single eye. “Zo’or…if it isn’t down, I’ll be happy to break it myself.”
Sandoval turns off his end of the video link.
Zo’or slams down into his chair, and knocks his arm rest across the room again. He leans back in his chair and examines the ceiling.
And he sits…
…and sits…
…and sits…
He bolts out of his chair. “This is intolerable!” He yells at no one.
He stomps down the corridor, and rips around the corner into Da’an’s quarters. He too is awake.
“Da’an.” Zo’or says tersely. “Why have you failed to offend me today?”
Da’an looks at Zo’or suspiciously. “Didn’t I offend you enough yesterday?”
“Yes..but no…” Zo’or looks like he’s about to cry. “What subterfuge have you designed for me to deal with today?”
Da’an shrugs, and continues with what he is doing. “I haven’t thought of anything yet.”
Zo’or paces about the room. “How am I to function at this level of inactivity. How shall I live with an absence of secret machinations to keep me occupied?”
Da’an is unmoved. “Take up a hobby.”
“A hobby?” Zo’or asks incredulously. “What kind of hobby would you suggest?”
“Cross-stitch, kayaking, fishing…” He looks at Zo’or again. “Something soothing to the nerves.”
“What is that your playing with?” Zo’or snatches a red plastic object from Da’an’s hands.
Unperturbed, Da’an fetches another green one from under his chair.
The object is round and hollow, with a length of string which is wrapped around the center. “What is this contraption?” Zo’or asks in disgust.
Da’an begins bouncing his up and down again. “The humans call it a yo-yo.”
“What is its purpose?”
Da’an ignores him, and keeps playing with it.
Zo’or tries to imitate Da’an but his red one thumps on the floor with a thud, and doesn’t return to him. He starts bouncing the thread wildly, trying to make it come back up. “This object is defective.” He says breathlessly.
Da’an stops playing with his own to watch Zo’or, who is hopelessly trying to make the yo-yo work. Instead of working right, the string is becoming tangled in his fingers.
Zo’or stops what he’s doing and starts pulling the thread loose. “You must help me Da’an, to compose a new plan to enslave humanity. If we are to keep the Synod’s current time table we must act quickly.”
Da’an grabs Zo’or’s yo-yo and replaces it, under his chair.
“I know!” Zo’or once again grabs Da’an’s yo-yo. “This object is the key!”
Da’an looks at Zo’or with definite concern. “The yo-yo?”
“Yes! This contraption is the epitome of their continuing defiance of our plans!”
“Could it be they just don’t like bald androgynous beings?”
Zo’or considers for a moment. “No it’s not that. It is this.” He says holding the yo-yo high in the air as blazing music sweeps through the Mothership.
“Do you not see the significance of what I have found Da’an? We must quarantine this object and all yo-yo’s like it, in order to study them further!”
Da’an shakes his head sadly. “Whatever you say Zo’or.”
Part Two
Morning sun slips over the horizon, and Renee and Liam lounge on the deck outside of Street’s trailer. Street in the meantime fiddles with her computer.
“Well.” Liam sighs. “What do we do now?” Liam and Renee stare at Street.
“Don’t look at me.” Street says.
Renee flips on the television, and a special bulletin screen appears. “This looks interesting…” Renee mutters.
-“And now for our special report, here is Emma Clark…”
“Thanks Phil. I’m at the Taelon embassy in Washington D.C. were the Taelons have called a special meeting of the U.N. The leader of the Synod Zo’or has announced, that they have uncovered a highly covert anti-Taelon operation based right here, in the United States. Taelon scientists have discovered that these
devices, typically refered to as yo-yo’s may be behind this nefarious plot.”
- “Now, Emma” Phil interjects “have the Taelons revealed how the yo-yo’s are a threat to them?”
- “No, the Taelons have declined to state at this time, but they have indicated, that these commonly placed toys pose a danger to both Taelons and humanity. We do know, that several CEO’s of leading Toy Manufacturing companies have been brought up to the Mothership for questioning, while hundreds of toy factories world wide will not be opening their doors today. And you will not believe the outstanding public response to this crisis. Hundreds of people have been crowding the Taelon embassies world wide this morning to surrender their family yo-yo’s in response to this tragedy. The public support has just been heartwarming Phil.”
- “Has there been any word yet as to who might be behind this? Do the Taelons suspect the Resistance?”
- “We just don’t know yet. The Taelons have stated however, that they do suspect that the Resistance is behind this ruthless attack.”
Renee flips off the television.
“We have to find out if one of our cells are behind this.” Liam says a bit to enthusiastically.
“Right.” Renee pops in. “Street, I need you to get every yo-yo you can get your hands on. I want to know what kind of tech we’re dealing with, and if we can use it later.
Street stares at them both. “They’re yo-yo’s.” She says incredulously. “Isn’t it obvious! Zo’or has obviously fallen out of his chair one too many times.”
“Nevertheless.” Renee says, ignoring Street, “we have to find out what we’re dealing with here.”
Without a pause, Renee and Liam slow jog out to the parking lot. Street slaps her forehead with her hand, and goes back to her game of on-line Monopoly…
Back on the Mothership….
“You have followed Zo’or’s orders have you not, Agent Sandoval?” Da’an asks.
“Of course Da’an.”
Da’an nods gracefully. “Then all the yo-yo’s have been moved to the cargo hold at this time?”
“Not all of them.” Sandoval replies sarcastically.
“I do not comprehend your meaning. Please explain.”
“Zo’or’s still on the bridge.”
Da’an looks at Sandoval blankly. “Maybe it is best that I do not understand.”
Zo’or enters from a side entrance, flanked by two Volunteers. “You are dismissed Agent Sandoval.”
Sandoval struts out of the room, taking the pale-faced Volunteers with him.
“Do you now see Da’an, the merit of my plans for this planet.”
“Of course Zo’or.” Da’an mumbles.
Zo’or turns on Da’an. “Your not supposed to agree with me Da’an.” He says point-blankly. “What has happened to your infuriating enigmatic moralizing?”
“I left it in my quarters with my yo-yo’s.”
“My yo-yo’s!” Zo’or says.
“Mine.”
“Mine they’re mine! They’re all mine, I said so!” Zo’or screams.
Da’an looks at Zo’or sternly. “You have the Synod. I get my yo-yo’s.”
Zo’or tries to stare Da’an down, but it doesn’t work. Instead he makes his way to the cargo bay, with Da’an close behind.
Zo’or turns into the room, guarded by several Volunteers. It is filled from ceiling to floor with yo-yo’s in every shape, design, and color.
Zo’or picks one up, and tries to play with it when he thinks Da’an isn’t looking. Unfortunately for Zo’or, the string unwinds, and the plastic circle goes rolling across the floor. Zo’or goes after it and crushes it with his shoe.
“That’s an interesting way to study these further.” Da’an dead-pans.
Zo’or tosses a yo-yo at Da’an, but Da’an ducks, and the toy sails through the virtual glass. “I am tired of these pitiful human objects. I will find another way to subject humanity to my whims.”
“They gave you their yo-yo’s is that not subjective enough for you?” Da’an asks.
“Hardly. I must find a new way to torture humanity, and fill my time.”
“Just take up a hobby, and save humanity the trouble of placating your boredom.”
Zo’or grins. “Now that would be dull wouldn’t it.”
Part Three: Sandoval’s Fun
“I cannot understand your government’s stubborness in regard to the plans I have implemented.” Zo’or says to President Thompson. “I have only humanities best interest at heart.”
Thompson glares at Zo’or. “Really…” He mutters.
They walk onto the bridge. Zo’or approaches his chair, and nearly trips over a black shoe on the floor.
Sandoval is flat on his back under the command chair.
“Agent Sandoval. For what reason are you on the floor?” Zo’or asked, a clueless expression on his face.
Sandoval gets up and looks Zo’or in the eye. “I’m rigging the chair to explode as soon as you sit down Zo’or.”
Zo’or gapes at Sandoval.
“Just kidding.” Sandoval deadpans. He starts walking toward the exit ramp. “I wouldn’t even try it.”
“I am satisfied to hear that.” Zo’or says sternly.
“Besides,” Sandoval concludes, “there are too many witnesses on the bridge.”
The nearby Volunteers try to refrain from laughing, with little success. “Volunteer!” Zo’or yells at his nearest victim. “Come here.”
As she comes closer, he notices that she is the same human he has enjoyed torturing a few nights earlier.
“President Thompson, you are dismissed.”
The Politician scurries after Sandoval.
“What is your name human?”
“Willoby.” She answers. “Ms. Willoby then,” Zo’or says leaning over the petite Volunteer, “for what reason was Sandoval underneath my chair?”
“H-he said that he was r-repairing your arm rest sir. Apparently it has been l-loosened somehow.” She says.
Zo’or orders the rest of the Volunteers off the bridge leaving only Ms. Willoby. He climbs into his chair and leans back slowly.
Zo’or raises his hand, and slams it onto the panel. It shakes, but doesn’t come apart. Zo’or grips the rest with frustration. Then he lifts his hand high in the air again, and strikes it again.
It’s still firmly attached.
“You are my witness to this subordination!” Zo’or says to Willoby. “You will accompany me when I address the Synod with this issue.”
Willoby shuffles her feet nervously. “Which issue might that b-be Zo’or?”
Zo’or eyes her incredulously. “My chair of course! My arm rest will no longer fly across the bridge.”
“Isn’t that a good thing Zo’or?”
Zo’or doesn’t respond. Instead he tears off the arm rest with sheer force and hurls it at Willoby’s head.
Willoby ducks, and falls to the ground crying hysterically.
Zo’or retrieves his armrest and reattaches it to his chair.
Sandoval runs into Jane Willoby as she runs away from the bridge. “What happened?” Sandoval asks, feigning sympathy.
“It was Zo’or. It-it was like he was a monster. He went crazy! He started throwing parts of the Mothership at me!”
Sandoval grins. “Did he throw the arm of his chair?”
“Y-yes.”
Sandoval laughs hysterically, and walks away, leaving Willoby alone in the corridor.
Zo’or returns to his quarters, satisfied that he has done the maximum amount of damage possible in a twenty-four hour period.
He sits down in his chair and activates the energy shower. The familiar soothing energy courses through him…and then he gets a jolt.
He bounces up in his chair and deactivates the energy shower. He tries to readjust the power output but with no luck. He gets down on all fours and peers under his chair. The adjustment control has been ripped off with a crow bar, which has been left incriminatingly behind.
Zo’or activates an energy stream. “Sandoval. Come to my quarters immediately.” He kills the data stream.
“If I cannot rest tonight, neither shall he!”
The End