EXT. ARCADIA, MARS - YEAR 2985 - DAY
Arcadia, the capital city of Mars. An Edenic paradise of abundance surrounded by crop fields ready to harvest.
EXT./INT. MARTIAN FEDERATION HQ - CONTINUOUS
A tall glass building that pierces the sky, disappearing far beyond the clouds.
On the 237th floor, in a conference room with floor-to- ceiling windows overlooking seas of golden wheat-
Seated around the perimeter of a long table, three councilmen and one councilwoman in their physical bodies. The rest, holograms.
The hologram of MRS. RED has the floor. She is 32, Russian, a blond-haired, medal-decorated aviatrix dressed in the military uniform of the Martian Federation.
We must act.
The Terrestrials haven’t had any sympathy since our independence. You are young, I’m an old man. I still remember the last war they started over our crops. Why should we help Earth?
MR. RED, the husband. 37, Japanese, similarly dressed, a charming intelligence officer.
This isn’t about protecting Mars or helping Earth. This is about saving humanity.
Those of Earth will do as they please, as they always have. I agree with Councilwoman Red, we must act. But our concern should be to preserve values at home, on Mars.
Not so long ago, Earth was home.
And for some of us, councilwoman, it still is.
Earth damned itself centuries ago.
I say let the Terrestrials destroy themselves. They deserve it!
You’d rob our children of their heritage?
Involving ourselves in Earth’s messy fertility politics won’t save humanity. It will destroy us. And if there is to be a humanity, it is we that must survive. Earth is the past. Mars is the future.
A pause as all gathered beat a fist to the chest and sharply salute the sky.
So you’d stand by as they drag our children away to become government property, you’d stand by as our children are forced to pop babies out like machines on a conveyor belt? Does the federation put their prized crop and livestock above human life? Above basic human rights?
This concerns the Earth’s children. Not ours.
You can’t seriously allow the sentencing of an entire generation of children to fertility camps-
All those in favor of passing on Councilwoman Red’s motion?
The room is a sea of raised palms.
EXT. FRENCH CONCESSION, SHANGHAI, EARTH - 72 HOURS LATER
The setting sun drenches the cobblestones in blood.
ANYA (10, Russian Japanese), dressed in her Sunday best with braids flying, skips a pattern towards a familiar house. The door swings open.
Anya races up to her mother.
It’s getting dark already. What did I tell you about staying out so late?
We were just playing mama. We weren’t doing anything unsafe.
(ushering through door)
It’s not you I’m worried about, darlings.
INT. RED RESIDENCE - CONTINUOUS
A humble house, with military regalia for wall decorations, a forte-piano, and hundreds of books on shelves throughout.
MR. RED sits smoking a pipe by the flickering holographic fire.
(grabbing the pipe)
Smoke outside, old man.
MRS. RED grabs an apron off a hook and disappears into the kitchen.
Anya jumps onto Mr. Red’s lap. The two play the piano together.
INT. KITCHEN - LATER
MRS. RED wipes sweat from her brow.
Lids clang up and down from the steam of the pots. The piano stops abruptly. The flute plays on.
Could you run out to the butcher’s? I forgot the lamb kidneys.
Mr. Red kisses Mrs. Red. They snuggle into each other.
(swatting Mr. Red away)
Back before you know it, love.
INT. LIVING ROOM - LATER
Mr. Red bursts through the door. He is bleeding, he falls. Anya, though young, has been trained for this. She checks her father’s pulse. She finds the wound.
Mama! Papa has been shot.
Mrs. Red rushes out.
Keep pressure on the wound.
Mrs. Red disappears and returns with a medical kit.
Anya fetches a bucket of hot water for sterilization. She leaves her mother to her work, running errand after errand.
Anya brings a pail of drinking water. Mr. Red sits up. Anya tips the water towards his mouth.
It’s begun. They’re coming, Helena. They’re coming for the girls.
INT. KITCHEN - CONTINUOUS
Someone pounds down the front door.
Mrs. Red shoves the carpet in the kitchen aside, revealing a trapdoor. She pushes Anya down into the tunnel. Briefly, she holds her daughter’s hand.
I love you.
The front door is broken down. Mrs. Red drags the carpet into place.
INT. TRAPDOOR TUNNEL - LATER
Anya cowers in the darkness. A gunshot. Two.
INT. TRAPDOOR TUNNEL - LATER
A shaft of light filters through a crack in the wood of the trapdoor.
A knife cuts through the rug. A bloody medallion falls through, plops into Anya’s hands.
Anya drops the medallion. Her hands tremble, shocked by her mother’s blood.
Go to Mars. Survive.
EXT. SHANGHAI WALL - LATER
Anya crawls out from a sewage tunnel, drenched in muck. She sets out on the long road winding away from the walled fortress that is SHANGHAI.
EXT. SHANGHAI WALL - DAWN
Anya hears the ROAR of ENGINE and hides behind a slab of rock jutting from the ground.
A truck comes and heaves dead bodies into a large pit.
Once the truck disappears, Anya crawls out, towards the pit. She peers inside. With effort, she rolls herself off the ground and into the pit.
Anya scours savagely through the bodies, opening mouths. She notices a loaf of bread held tightly to a woman’s breast.
The diseased WOMAN animates; the two grapple with each other.
The woman bites her, hard. Anya struggles to grab the woman’s neck.
Small, bloody child hands grip neck. The child hands are weak, the woman takes a long time to kill. The woman’s eyes don’t break eye contact, not for a second, not even in death.
Child hands tremble but find the loaf of bread.
Anya curls into herself amidst the dead bodies and rips apart the bread, at first forcing herself to swallow small bites, ashamed. But then need takes over and she stuffs her face, ravenous.
EXT. THE LONG ROAD - LATER
A bloodied, limping Anya walks on in the sweltering sun.
A speck hovers on the horizon before descending. The DEAFENING SOUND of ENGINE and SAND RISING. The speck comes into view: a decommissioned Russian cargo spaceship.
Anya runs towards the ship. Her knees give and she falls to the ground.
In the near-off distance, a man descends from the ship. His figure approaches. A blink- the man stands above, hand out in offering.
Anya takes his hand.
EXT. THE LONG ROAD - 15 YEARS LATER
PROMMIE (appears late 20s), a John Wick type clad in all black, helps Anya up from the sand.
Anya spits blood.
I do hope you know that traitors don’t get grave stones.
Got it all out of your system?
Whether you like it or not, from Earth’s point of view, your parents were traitors and we shouldn’t be here.
Good. Let’s go.
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