The Abyss (1989)
Directed by James Cameron
Written by James Cameron
August 2, 1988
Director's Revision

Ed Harris ....................... Virgil 'Bud' Brigman
Mary Elizabeth Mastrantonio .......... Lindsey Brigman
Michael Biehn ................ Lieutenant Hiram Coffey
Leo Burmester ....................... Catfish De Vries
Todd Graff ....................... Alan 'Hippy' Carnes
John Bedford Lloyd ..................... Jammer Willis
J.C. Quinn ............................ 'Sonny' Dawson
Kimberly Scott ............. Lisa 'One Night' Standing
Captain Kidd Brewer Jr. ................... Lew Finler
George Robert Klek ........................... Wilhite
Christopher Murphy ......................... Schoenick
Adam Nelson .............................. Ensign Monk
Dick Warlock ............................ Dwight Perry
Jimmie Ray Weeks ...................... Leland McBride
J. Kenneth Campbell .......................... DeMarco


 1   EXT. OCEAN/UNDERWATER -- DAY                                   1   

     Blue, deep and featureless, the twilight of five hundred 
     feet down.

     PROPELLER SOUND.  Materializing out of the blue limbo is the 
     enormous but sleek form of an Ohio-class SSBN ballistic 
     missile submarine.

 2   INT. U.S.S. MONTANA -- DAY                                     2   

     In the attack center, darkened to womb-red, the crew's faces 
     shine with sweat in the glow of their instruments.  The 
     SKIPPER and his EXEC crowd around BARNES, the sonarman.

               Sixty knots?  No way, Barnes... the 
               reds don't have anything that fast.

               Checked it twice, skipper.  It's a 
               real unique signature.  No cavitation, 
               no reactor noise...  doesn't even 
               sound like screws.

     He puts the signal onto a speaker and everyone in the attack 
     room listens to the intruder's acoustic signature, a strange 
     THRUMMING.  The captain studies the electronic position board, 
     a graphic representation of the contours of the steep-walled 
     canyon, a symbol for the Montana, and converging with it, an 
     amorphous trace, representing the bogey.

               What the hell is it?

               I'll tell you what it's not, it's 
               not one of ours.

               Sir!  Contact changing heading to 
               two-one-four, diving.  Speed eighty 
               knots!  Eighty knots!

               Eighty knots...

               Still diving, depth nine hundred 
               feet.  Port clearance to cliff wall, 
               one hundred fifty feet.


                                                             p. 2

               Still diving, depth nine hundred 
               feet.  Port clearance to cliff wall, 
               one hundred fifty feet.

     Tension builds in the attack room as the Montana surges to 
     intercept theY intruder.  The exec tensely watches the vector-
     graphic readout for the side-scan sonar array.  The sub is 
     running uncomfortably close to the cliff walls.

                    (low, to Captain)
               It's getting tight in here.

               We can still give him a haircut.  
               Helm, come right to oh six niner, 
               down five degrees.

               Coming right to oh six niner, sir.  
               Down five degrees.

               Port side clearance one hundred twenty 
               feet narrowing to seventy-five.  
               Sir, we have a proximity warning 

               That's too damn close!  We've gotta 
               back off.

               Range to contact, two hundred.  
               Contact junked to bearing two six oh 
               and accelerated to... one hundred 
               thirty knots, sir!

                    (really freaked now)
               Nothing goes one thirty!

     Suddenly the control room lights dim almost to blackness.

 3   EXT. U.S.S. MONTANA                                            3   

     We see only the effect, not the source, as a large diffuse 
     light passes rapidly under the sub's hull.  Moments later a 
     shockwave, like an underwater sonic boom, impacts the sub, 
     slamming it sideways.


                                                             p. 3

 4   INT. U.S.S. MONTANA                                            4   

     The bridge crew are knocked off their feet, as the ship is 

               Turbulence!  We're in its wake!

     SIRENS.  Everyone shouting at once.  The power flickers low.

               Helm, all stop!  Full right rudder!

               All stop.  Full right rudder.  
               Hydraulic failure.  Planes are not 
               responding, sir!

     Power returns in time for the sonarman to get a glimpse at 
     the side-scan display... AS THE SHEER CLIFF WALL LOOM BEFORE 

                           HELMSMAN (CONT'D)
               Hydraulics restored, sir.

 5   EXT. U.S.S. MONTANA                                            5   

     The cliff wall materializes out of the blue limbo off the 
     port bow with nightmarish slow-motion.  The sub slams into 
     it with horrific force, scraping along and bouncing off.  
     One tail stabilizer is sheared off and the big screw prangs 
     the wall with an earsplitting K-K-KWANG!

 6   INT. PORT TO TORPEDO ROOM                                      6   

     With the outer tube-doors torn off, seawater slams in, busting 
     the inner hatches.  Two-foot thick columns of water, like 
     fire-hoses of the gods, blast into the room.  Everything 
     vanishes instantly in white spray.

 7   INT. CONTROL RM/ATTACK CENTER                                  7   

     Everyone is hurled off his feet.  The planesman flights to 
     recover control of the yoke.

               Collision alarm!  Collision alarm!  
               Lighten her up, Charlie!

               The torpedo room is flooded, sir!

               Blow all tanks!  Blow everything!


                                                             p. 4

               Passing twelve hundred feet...

               Blowing main tanks!

               Twelve hundred fifty feet...

 8   EXT. MONTANA                                                   8   

     The great sub is being hauled down by the mass of its flooded 
     bow section, its flanks rushing past us like a freight train 
     headed for Hell.

 9   INT. MONTANA CONTROL ROOM                                      9   

     The command crew fights futilely for control, everyone 
     shouting and terrified.

               Main forward tanks ruptured!

               Passing thirteen hundred feet...

               Too deep to pump auxiliaries!

               All back full!  All back full!

               Answering all back full.  Passing 
               thirteen hundred fifty feet... 
               fourteen hundred... fourteen fifty...

     The Captain locks eyes with the Exec amid the din...

               We're losing her.  Launch the buoy!

     The Exec opens the door to a small box and punches a button.  
     A red light comes on.  The Captain takes a deep breath.

10   EXT. MONTANA                                                  10   

     A tiny transmitter is ejected from the sub's hell and begins 
     its long ascent to the surface.  A second later the sub slams 
     down like a piledriver onto a ledge, tearing open its pressure 


                                                             p. 5

11   INT. MONTANA                                                  11   

     VARIOUS QUICK CUTS, just flashes and impressions, as...

     Seawater blasts down the corridors --

     Explodes across the control room, hurling men like dolls --

     Floods the cavernous missile bay in seconds --

     Bursts through hatches into the reactor room --

     Blasts men OUT OF FRAME in a micro-second.

12   EXT. OCEAN/UNDERWATER                                         12   

     In the cobalt twilight we see the Montana slide down the sea 
     cliff, its hull SCREECHING like the death agonies of some 
     marine dinosaur.  Descending in an avalanche of silt, it 
     finally disappears into the blackness below... a blackness 
     which continues almost straight down, 20,000 feet to the 
     bottom of the Cayman Trough.  The abyss.

13   EXT. OCEAN SURFACE -- DAY                                     13   

     Above, in the world, the Caribbean rolling gray under a stormy 
     sky.  The Montana's emergency buoy pops to the surface, 

                                                          CUT TO:

14   EXT. OCEAN/20 MILES AWAY -- DAY                               14   

     LONG LENS SHOT: three massive Navy Sea King helicopters 
     thundering straight at us, FILLING FRAME.

     REVERSE, as they barrel OVER CAMERA toward a lone civilian 
     ship... an ugly but very sophisticated deep-sea drilling 
     support ship, the BENTHIC EXPLORER.

     It is a twin-hulled monstrosity with a central opening in 
     its deck, around which crouch enormous cranes, winches and 
     other arcane equipment.

     The first Sea King settles onto the helipad, disgorging a 
     contingent of Naval officers, technicians, and a squad of 
     armed seamen.  A pantomime in the rotorwash, we see the 
     Benthic Petroleum "company man" KIRKHILL greeting COMMODORE 
     DEMARCO, the on-scene commander.

15   INT. BENTHIC EXPLORER/BRIDGE -- DAY                           15   

     The bridge is state-of-the-art, with computers and 
     sophisticated navigation and communications gear, looking


                                                             p. 6

     like mission control with its bank of video monitors.  The 
     Drilling Operations Supervisor, LELAND MCBRIDE, and BENDIX, 
     the crew chief, watch the invaders swarming the deck below.

               Does not look good at all.

     TIGHT ON VIDEO SCREEN (MINUTES LATER) showing divers working 
     in total blackness around some sort of installation on the 
     bottom of the ocean.  They move through the harsh floodlights 
     in dreamlike slow motion, looking like space-suited figures 
     with their helmets and umbilical hoses.

                           DEMARCO (V.O.)
               No light from the surface.  How deep 
               are they?

                           MCBRIDE (V.O.)
               Seventeen hundred feet.

     WIDER, showing the Navy contingent crowding the control room.  
     DeMarco is hardcore military, brusque and efficient.  Kirkhill 
     is a small man with pinched features, wearing a shirt and 
     tie, which on a drill ship means company man and/or dickhead.

               I need them to go to over two 

               They can do it.
                    (to McBride)
               Get Brigman on the line.

                                                          CUT TO:

16   EXT. UNDERWATER -- DAY (TOTAL DARKNESS)                       16   

     1700 FEET BELOW.  A submersible oil-drilling platform, 
     DEEPCORE II, an island of light in the vast blackness.  Its 
     main framework connects two "tri-modules" consisting of three 
     cylinders each.  These contain living and work areas in a 
     pressurized environment.  An umbilical cable, thick as a 
     man's thigh, runs up from the oil rig into the darkness, to 
     the Benthic Explorer at the surface.  In a bubble-like dome 
     port window we see the rig foreman, or "toolpusher," BUD 
     BRIGMAN.  He's talking (via headset) with two divers working 

               Hey, you guys are milking that job.


                                                             p. 7

                    (Kentucky drawl)
               That's cause we love freezin' our 
               butts off out here sooo much, boss.

17   INT. DRILL ROOM                                               17   

     Bud turns from the window and crosses the drill floor.  The 
     working heart of the rig.  THUNDEROUS MECHANICAL ROAR.  The 
     drill crew, in hardhats and mud-plastered overalls, tend the 
     massive spinning turn-table in the center of the chamber.  
     The semi-automated system requires only five men to operate.  
     and TOMMY RAY DIETZ.  Bud hears his names called above the 
     din by Jammer, a massive roughneck/diver who stands a good 
     head taller than the rest.

               Bud!  Hippy's on the bitch-box.  
               It's a call from topside.  That new 
               company man.

               Kirkhill?  That guy doesn't know his 
               butt from a rathole.  Hey, Perry!

     One of the roustabouts, a wiry Texan, turns to him.

                           BUD (CONT'D)
               Do me a favor and square away the 
               mud hose and those cable slings.  
               This place is starting to look like 
               my apartment.

     Perry chuckles and sets to the task cheerfully.  Bud EXITS, 
     ducking his head through a low watertight hatch.

18   INT. CORRIDOR/TOOLPUSHER'S OFFICE                             18   

     Bud tromps down the narrow corridor, his work boots gonging 
     on steel.

                           P.A. (HIPPY'S VOICE)

               I'm coming.  Keep your pantyhose on.

     He enters his office, a tiny cubicle with stacks of paperwork, 
     dust-gathering tech manuals and waterstained Penthouse fold-
     outs.  He picks up the phone... punches down a line.


                                                             p. 8

                           BUD (CONT'D)
               Brigman here.  Kirkhill?  What's 
               going on?
               I am calm.  I'm a calm person.  Is 
               there some reason why I shouldn't be 

     HOLD ON Bud's expression, darkening, as he listens.

19   INT. CORRIDOR/CONTROL MODULE                                  19   

     The control module is a long narrow cabin like the inside of 
     a Winnebago, packed with instrumentation.  At the end is a 
     small bay with multiple viewports.  Outside, at a 'Christmas 
     tree' pipe installation, a lone diver can be seen welding.  
     He is accompanied by a large submersible, FLATBED, and by a 
     Remotely Operated Vehicle, or ROV, call LITTLE GEEK.  Little 
     Geek is an underwater robot which operated on the end of a 
     cable-like control TETHER.

     It has a single video 'eye' in front, by which the operator 
     pilots the little machine.  The rig's ROV pilots is ALLEN 
     'HIPPY' CARNES, who stands by the window twiddling his 
     joysticks and drinking coffee.  His pet white rat, BEANY, 
     crawls contentedly around his shoulders.  The door BANGS 

     Hippy jumps, slops his coffee.  Bud strides in.  Not calm.

               Son of a bitch.

     He kicks a chair out of the way and slams his palm down on a 
     switch marked DIVER RECALL.  A SIREN, blasting through the 
     water from a big hydrophone loudspeaker.

                           BUD (CONT'D)
               All divers.  Drop what you're doing.  
               Everybody out of the pool.

20   EXT. DEEPCORE/CHRISTMAS TREE                                  20   

     Flatbed's pilot, LISA 'ONE NIGHT' STANDING, can be clearly 
     seen behind a bubble canopy.  She is a no-nonsense lady who 
     holds her own in the mostly male environment by being one of 
     the best submersible drivers in the business.  She controls 
     a hydraulic manipulator arm, assisting the diver, ARLISS 
     'SONNY' DAWSON, in his work.  Little Geek hovers around them 
     like a tiny helicopter.  One Night moves the Flatbed arm to 
     Sonny and hands him the pipe.

                           ONE NIGHT
               Here you go, hon'.


                                                             p. 9

               Just in time, sugar.

     They react to Bud's recall, looking toward him up in the 
     control module.

                           ONE NIGHT
               Dammit, we just got out here.

               There was a time when I would have 
               asked why.

     One Night makes a grab for his butt with the manipulator 
     claw, which he narrowly avoids.

                                                          CUT TO:

21   EXT. DEEPCORE/UNDER SUB-BAY                                   21   

     Flatbed moves underneath the rig, a few feet above the 
     seafloor, with Sonny riding on its top deck.  It passes under 
     a lit opening and rises toward the surface of the water in 
     the chamber above.  Little Geek follows like an obedient 

22   INT. SUB-BAY/MOONPOOL                                         22   

     The opening is called the moonpool, and Deepcore's 
     submersibles are launched through it.  From inside the sub-
     bay it looks just like a swimming pool.

     Flatbed surfaces, nearly filling it.  The chamber also 
     contains CAB ONE, a similar submersible.  Jammer, Perry, and 
     some of the other drill-room boys are helping the divers out 
     of the water.  The water at this depth is only about six 
     degrees above freezing, and these folks are cold and prune-
     fingered.  Finler pulls off his demand-helmet, revealing a 
     round, boyish face.

               What's goin' on?  How come we got 

               Hell if I know.

     One Night jumps 'ashore' from Flatbed's broad deck and joins 
     them.  Catfish is unzipping his bulky dry-suit.

               Just follow standard procedure, will 
               ya...  flog the dog till somebody 
               tells us what's happening.


                                                            p. 10

               Hey, Catfish, I'll sell you my October 
               Penthouse for twenty bucks.

                           ONE NIGHT
               Save your money, darlin'... the pages 
               are all stuck together by now.

     Bud enters, approaching the group.

               What's goin' on, Boss?

               Folks, I've just been told to shut 
               down the hole and prepare to move 
               the rig.


               We're being asked to cooperate in a 
               matter of national security.  Now 
               you know exactly as much as I do.  
               So just get your gear off and get up 
               to control.  There's some kind of 
               briefing in ten minutes.

                                                          CUT TO:

23   INT. DEEPCORE/COMMAND MODULE                                  23   

     The whole rig crew is somehow jammed into the room for the 
     video briefing.

     DeMarco is on the main monitor, with his aides and Kirkhill 
     visible b.g.

               At 09:22 local time this morning, an 
               American nuclear submarine, the USS 
               Montana, with 156 men aboard, went 
               down 22 miles from here.  There has 
               been no contact with the sub since 
               then.  The cause of the incident is 
               not known.

     PAN AROUND the reactions of the various drill crew members... 
     shocked, hushed, curious.


                                                            p. 11

                           DEMARCO (CONT'D)
               Your company has authorized the Navy's 
               use of this facility for a rescue 
               operation.  The code name is Operation 

                           ONE NIGHT
               You want us to search for the sub?

               No.  We know where it is.  But she's 
               in 2000 feet of water and we can't 
               reach her.  We need divers to enter 
               the sub and search for survivors, if 

     Bud's scowl has been deepening since DeMarco started to talk.

               Don't you guys have your own stuff 
               for this type of thing?

               By the time we get our rescue 
               submersible here the storm front 
               will be right on us.  But you can 
               get your rig in under the storm and 
               be on-site in fifteen hours.  That 
               makes you our best option right now.

     Hippy, born suspicious and recently graduated to paranoid, 
     leans forward...

               Why should we risk our butts on a 
               job like this?

               We have been authorized to offer you 
               all special-duty bonuses equivalent 
               to three times normal dive pay.

               Hell, for triple time I'd crawl 
               through razor blades and shower off 
               with lime juice.

               I'm here to tell ya', you could set 
               me on fire and call me names.


                                                            p. 12

               Look, I don't know what kind of a 
               deal you guys worked out with the 
               company, but my people are not 
               qualified for this... they're oil 

               A four-man SEAL team will transfer 
               down to you to supervise the 

               You can send down whoever you like, 
               but I'm the toolpusher on this rig, 
               and when it comes to the safety of 
               these people, there's me... then 
               there's God.  Understand?  If things 
               get dicey, I'm pulling the plug.

               I think we're all on the same 
               wavelength, Brigman.  Now let's get 
               the wellhead uncoupled, shall we?

                                                          CUT TO:

24   INT. DEEPCORE/COMMAND MODULE AND CORRIDOR                     24   

     Bud stands beside the hatchway as the others file out toward 
     their tasks.

     They comment gravely as they pass...

               When Lindsey finds out about this, 
               it's not gonna be a pretty sight.

                           ONE NIGHT
               They're going to have to shoot her 
               with a tranquilizer gun.

                                                          CUT TO:

25   EXT. OCEAN -- DAY                                             25   

     A single Navy Sea King churns through the rain under massive 

     The sea below is whipped by the storm.


                                                            p. 13

26   INT./EXT. SEA KING                                            26   

     PANNING ALONG BOOTED FEET, four pairs of black military size 
     twelves line up, onto... a pair of Charles Jourdans fives 
     under shapely ankles.

     WIDER, revealing the four-man team of Navy SEALs.  And a 
     slender woman in her early thirties.  She's attractive, if a 
     bit hardened, dressed conservatively in a skirt and jacket.  
     Meet LINDSEY.  Project Engineer for Deepcore.  She's a pain 
     in the ass, but you'll like her.  Eventually.

     She's holding on grimly, sitting crammed in with the SEALs 
     and a bunch of gear, getting tossed around by the storm.  
     The SEALs are dressed alike in black fatigues.  They are 
     muscular, finely-tuned and extremely dangerous special-forces 
     types.  The leader of the SEAL team, LIEUTENANT COFFEY, makes 
     his way forward to the cockpit.

     The pilot is white-knuckling his stick, trying to hold the 
     great beast of a helicopter in position.  Through the 
     windshield, the deck of the Benthic Explorer can be seen 
     below, pitching in a violent sea.

               No way I'm putting her down.  I 
               shouldn't even be flying in this 

               Just hold it over the deck.

     Coffey goes back to the crew deck, moving easily in the 
     bucking craft.  He nods to the others SEALs, MONK, WILHITE, 
     and SCHOENICK.  In the open side door, Wilhite clips a 100 
     foot nylon rope to the airframe and throws out the coil.  
     One by one the shoulder the gear-bags, grab the rope, and 
     step out.

     Lindsey stands swaying in the chopper door, watching the 
     SEALs fast-roping to the deck.  One, two, three.  Coffey 
     looks at her.

                           COFFEY (CONT'D)
               You want to be on that ship, there's 
               only one way it's going to happen.

     He's sure she won't go for it.  It's his certainty that gets 
     her.  She sets her jaw.  Opening her purse she takes out a 
     small plastic bag, puts her shoes and purse in the bag, and 
     grips the bag in her teeth.  Then grabs the rope and slides 


                                                            p. 14

27   EXT. BENTHIC EXPLORER/HELIPAD                                 27   

     Swinging wildly in the wind like a human pendulum, Lindsey 
     fast-ropes forty feet to the deck.  She steps away an instant 
     before Coffey hits behind her.

     Lindsey crosses the rainswept deck with athletic strides.  
     Her nylons are ruined.  An air-crewman in the chopper lowers 
     two additional equipment cases using the rescue sling.  The 
     SEALs catch them as they swing radically across the deck.  
     They Navy chopper banks and seems to scurry away before the 
     mounting storm.

                                                          CUT TO:

28   EXT. OCEAN BOTTOM                                             28   

     BLACKNESS.  Then shafts of light become visible, above a 
     ridge of rock.

     Flatbed appears, trailing two heavy two cables.  Behind it, 
     the mass of Deepcore emerges from the darkness, its forward 
     lighting array blazing.

     Flatbed is towing it like a tug, aided by Deepcore's own 
     mighty stern thrusters.

29   INT. DEEPCORE/CONTROL MODULE                                  29   

     Bud, his feet propped up, uses joystick controls to 'fly' 
     Deepcore, maneuvering against currents and around seafloor 
     obstacles.  He is guided by the side-scan sonar display, 
     with Hippy assisting in the sonar shack.

     Through the front viewport, Flatbed can be seen out ahead.

     McBride appears on the bridge monitor, holding a sheet of 

                           MCBRIDE (ON SCREEN)
               Well, it's official, sportsfans.  
               They're calling it Hurricane 
               Frederick, and it's going to be making 
               our lives real interesting in a few 

30   INT. EXPLORER BRIDGE -- DAY                                   30   

     Bud responds via video.

               Fred, huh?  I don't know.  Hurricanes 
               should be named after women.


                                                            p. 15

     McBride looks up as the bridge door opens.  Lindsey enters 
     in a blast of wind, wet as a wharf rat and twice as pissed 
     off.  Maybe Bud is right.

                                                          CUT TO:

31   INT. DEEPCORE/CONTROL MODULE                                  31   

     Bud is surprised to see Lindsey's face appear on the monitor 

               I can't believe you let them do this!

                    (unpreturbed, almost 
               Hi, Lins.  I thought you were in 

               I was, but I managed to bum a ride 
               on the last flight out here.  Only 
               here isn't where I left it, is it, 

               Wasn't up to me.

               We were that close to proving a 
               submersible drilling platform could 
               work.  We had over seven thousand 
               feet of hole down for Chrissake.  I 
               can't believe you let them grab my 

               Your rig?

               My rig.  I designed the damn thing.

               Yup, and Benthic Petroleum paid for 
               it.  So as long as they're hold the 
               pink slip, I go where they tell me.

               You wimp.  I had a lot riding on 
               this.  They bought you... more like 
               least rented you cheap--


                                                            p. 16

               I'm switching off now.

               Virgil, you wiener!  You never could 
               stand up to fight.  You--

     Bud hits the switch and the screen goes dead.


     Hippy looks over him, trying very hard not to crack up.


               God, I hate that bitch.

               Yeah, well you never should have 
               married her then.

     Bud nods fatalistically.

                                                          CUT TO:

32   EXT. EXPLORER DECK/LAUNCH WELL                                32   

     Ten foot waves crash through the launch-well, sending up 
     geysers of spray.

     Next to the launch-well, crewman have attached a lifting 
     cable to CAB THREE, eighteen feet of ugly yellow submersible.  
     It slams violently in its steel cradle as the drill-ship 
     rolls.  Coffey and Schoenick hand the gear bags in to Wilhite 
     and Monk though the hatch under the rear of the submersible.

     Lindsey approaches, wearing a borrowed roustabout's coverall.

     She looks down at the larger of the two equipment cases 
     brought by the SEALs, lying on the deck.  Stenciled on it 
     are the words: F.B.S./DEEP SUIT/MARK IV.

     Coffey and Schoenick push past her to pick it up.

               Let's go, gentlemen!  We either launch 
               now or we don't launch.

     Coffey looks up in surprise as she nimbly climbs the side of 
     Cab Three and grabs the lifting shackle, circling her raised 
     hand to signal the crane man.


                                                            p. 17

                           LINDSEY (CONT'D)
               Take her up, Byron!

     Cab Three, with Lindsey riding its back, is pulled up out 
     its cradle and starts to swing violently as Explorer pitches.  
     The submersible is then swung out to the center of the launch 
     well.  It sways and gyrates above the furious water below.  
     Lindsey drops into the upper hatch.

33   INT. EXPLORER BRIDGE/D.O.C.                                   33   

     Kirkhill leans suddenly over the console to look out the 

               What the hell is she doing out there?  
               Son of a bitch...
                    (into microphone)
               Lindsey... get out of Cab Three.  
               Bates is taking her down.

34   INT. CAB THREE                                                34   

     Lindsey pulls her headset as she dogs down the inside locking 
     levers of the hatch.

               Bates is sick.  Besides I've got 
               more hours in this thing than he 
                    (to Coffey)
               A little change of plan.

     The little sub is swinging like a pendulum on the cable, and 
     the SEALs, jammed in with their equipment in the tiny space, 
     are getting slammed into the walls.  Lindsey is calmly 
     flipping switches as she talks.

               Lady, we better fish or cut bait.

               Just hold your water, okay?
                    (to Kirkhill)
               So Kirkhill, we gonna do this or we 
               gonna talk about it?

35   INT. EXPLORER BRIDGE/D.O.C.                                   35   

     The plug is pulled on DeMarco's patience.

               I don't care who drives the damn 
               thing.  Just get my team in the water.


                                                            p. 18

               Alright, alright.  Christ Almighty!

     He gestured dismissively to McBride.

               Cab Three, you are clear to launch.

36   INT./EXT. CAB THREE                                           36   

     Lindsey reaches up a grabs a red lever.

                    (to Coffey)
               There's only one way it's going to 

     She pulls the lever hard.  CLUNK-CLANG!  The shackle-release 
     drops the sub.

     It freefalls ten feet to the water with an enormous splash 
     and keeps right on going after Lindsey floods the trim tanks.  
     Coffey et al have been slammed hard.

                           LINDSEY (CONT'D)
               Touchdown.  The crowd goes wild.  
               Explorer... Cab Three.  We are 

                           MCBRIDE (FILTERED)
               Roger, Cab Three.

     Lindsey cuts on the floodlights and maneuvers the descending 
     submersible so that the umbilical cable is a few feet ahead 
     on her front port.  Moving up through her lights, it will 
     guide her down to the rig.  Cab Three free-falls into 
     increasing darkness.  Soon it is a candle below us in the 

37   EXT./INT. FLATBED                                             37   

     One Night is driving the tug one-handed, pouring coffee from 
     a thermos and rocking out to the great truck-driving song 
     "Willing" on the beat-box she's got propped up on the sonar 
     rig.  Fighting white-line fever in the best tradition.

38   INT. CONTROL MODULE                                           38   

     Bud and Hippy come in for a rousing chorus.

               ... I've been driving every kinda 
               rig that's ever been maaaaade...


                                                            p. 19

39   EXT. DEEPCORE                                                 39   

     Lit up like a proud Peterbilt, the rig crossed the trackless 
     wastes.  We hear them singing, carried OVER.

40   EXT. OCEAN DEPTHS/CAB THREE                                   40   

     In total blackness, the submersible descends along the 
     rigorous line of the umbilical cable.  Two hundred feet below 
     it, the lights of Deepcore resolve out of the darkness.  Now 
     we can see the rig crawling over the ocean bottom like some 
     monster lawnmower.

                           LINDSEY (V.O.)
               Deepcore, Deepcore... this is Cab 
               Three on final approach.

                           HIPPY (V.O.)
               Gotcha, Cab Three.  Who is that?  
               That You, Lindsey?

41   INT. DEEPCORE/CONTROL MODULE                                  41   

     Bud stop singing and snaps around at the mention of her name.

                           LINDSEY (V.O.)
               None other.

     Bud's expression is nothing less than stricken.

               Oh no... you gotta be kidding me.

42   EXT./CAB THREE/DEEP CORE                                      42   

     Lindsey executes a 180 degree turn and cruises over the 
     control module, back through the A-frame toward the docking 
     hatch.  The flange of Cab Three's lockout hatch settles over 
     the pressure collar on the rig's back.  There is a CLUNK as 
     it mates up.


     Lindsey drops down from the hatch into the small cylindrical 
     pressure chamber.

     The SEALs drop down behind her, passing their gear through 

     The chamber is spartan, with steel benches, a folding card 
     table, breathing masks, and medical supplies.  Catfish greets 
     them through the tiny porthole at one end.


                                                            p. 20

               Howdy, y'all.  Hey, Lindsey!  I'll 
               be damned!  You shouldn't be down 
               here sweet thing, ya'll might run ya 

               Couldn't stay away.  You running 
               mixture for us?  Good.  Couldn't ask 
               for better.

               Okay, here we go.  Start equalizing, 

     HISSSS of inrushing compressed gas.  The pressure in the 
     chamber rises.  The breathing mixture is composed of helium, 
     oxygen and nitrogen.  Catfish monitors it carefully from a 
     station outside the chamber, watching the gauges with a 
     practiced eye.  Lindsey and the SEALs all grab their noses 
     and start making funny faces... popping their ears with the 
     familiar diver's 'equalization' technique.  They continue 

               Get comfortable.  The bad news is we 
               got six hours in this can, blowing 
               down.  The worse news is it's gonna 
               take us three weeks to decompress 
               back to the surface later.

               We've been fully briefed, Mrs. 

               Don't call me that, okay... I hate 
               that.  Alright, from now on we watch 
               each other closely for signs of 

                    (as if by rote)
               High-Pressure Nervous Syndrome.  
               Muscle tremors, usually in the hands 
               first.  Nausea, increased 
               excitability, disorientation.

               Very good.  About one person in twenty 
               just can't handle it.  They go buggo.  
               They're no way to predict who's 
               susceptible, so stay alert.


                                                            p. 21

               Look, we've all made chamber runs to 
               this depth.  We're checked out.

               Oh... chamber runs.  Uh huh, that's 
                    (Coffey turn away)
               Well, hey... you guys know any songs?

     They ignore her.  Start going over some diagrams of the 
     Montana's interior.

     It's going to be a long six hours.

44   INT. GAS CONTROL STATION -- HOURS LATER                       44   

     Catfish checks his watch, then reaches over and adjusts a 
     value on the tri-mix manifold, watching the gauges.  
     Satisfied, he leans over to the pressure window in the door, 
     checking out the SEALs.  Hippy has come down from the control 
     deck for an advanced look are the interlopers.  Jammer is in 
     a chair, reading a Louis L'Amour paperback.

               Those guys ain't so tough.  I fought 
               plenty of guys tougher'n them.

               Now we get to hear about how he used 
               to be a contender.

     Catfish hold up one callused fist up in front of Hippy's 

               You see this?  They used to call 
               this the Hammer.

               Hippy wasn't born then.

45   INT. PRESSURE CHAMBER                                         45   

     It looks like the end of a long bus trip.  Everyone silent... 
     leafing through beat-to-hell magazines or just staring.  
     Lindsey has her feet propped up on the smaller of the SEALs' 
     two equipment cases.  She casually toes open one of the 
     latches, then the other.  Glances at Coffey.  He's reading.  
     She begins to lift the lid with her toe.  Gets a GLIMPSE 
     INSIDE, of packing foam, and what looks like a SMALL BLACK 
     METAL BOX.  Then... WHAM!  Coffey's foot comes down on the 
     lid, slamming it shut.  Startled, she looks up into his cool 


                                                            p. 22

               Curiosity killed the cat.

                                                          CUT TO:

46   INT. GAS CONTROL STATION/CHAMBER DOOR -- LATER                46   

     TIGHT ON CATFISH'S hands... closing values... spinning the 
     wheel on the chamber hatch.  CUT WIDER as it cracks open 
     with a virgin's sigh and swings aside.

               Y'all'er done to a turn and ready to 
               serve.  Everybody okay?

     The SEALs nod peremptorily and shoulder their gear.  Lindsey 
     exits first, followed by Monk, Wilhite, and Schoenick.  Coffey 
     bends to relatch the small equipment case.  He is alone for 
     one moment in the chamber.  He raises his hand and stares at 
     it.  The fingertips are trembling the slightest bit.  He 
     clenches them into a fist and walks out.

47   INT. CORRIDOR                                                 47   

     As Lindsey emerges into the main corridor of the rig, she 
     bumps into a large, dark mass.

               Hey, was there a wall here before?  
               I don't remember a wall here.  Oh, 
               Jammer!  Hi.

     The 'wall' grins down to her.

               Howdy, there, little lady.

     Coffey emerges behind them and, ignoring Lindsey, faces 

                    (to Jammer)
               Show us the dive prep area.  We need 
               to check out your gear.

     Jammer scowls, turns and leads the SEALs in the sub-bay.  
     Catfish and Lindsey exchange a look.

               Those guys are about a much fun as a 
               tax audit.

                                                          CUT TO:


                                                            p. 23

48   INT. COMMAND MODULE                                           48   

     TIGHT ON HIPPY, bathed in the light of the sonar display.  
     He is making kissing sounds at Beany, who has his inquisitive 
     nose right up to Hippy's lips.

               Hippy, you're going to give that rat 
               a disease.

     WIDER, as Hippy and Bud to see Lindsey leaning in the doorway.  
     She and Bud size each other up.  He opts for a jovial 
     approach, his eyes wary.

               Well, well.  Mrs. Brigman.

               Not for long.

     Lindsey crossed past him, her eyes scanning the banks of 
     equipment, almost unconsciously checking, checking... getting 
     the pulse of her big iron baby.

               You never did like being called that, 
               did you?

               Not even when it meant something.
                    (looking through the 
                    front port)
               Is that One Night up in Flatbed?

               Who else?

     Lindsey leans past Bud to the gooseneck mike on the console.

               Hi, One Night, it's Lindsey.

49   INT. FLATBED                                                  49   

     One Night mimes a puking motion, finger down her throat.  
     Then she replies with sickening sweetness...

                           ONE NIGHT
               Oh, hi, Lindsey.

50   INT. COMMAND MODULE                                           50   

     Lindsey fives the sonar shack the once-over.  She tweaks 
     some knobs.


                                                            p. 24

               I can't believe you were dumb enough 
               to come down.  Now you're stuck here 
               for the storm...  dumb, hot-rod... 

               Look, I didn't come down here to 

     She crosses past Bud and exits into the corridor.  Bud bolts 
     out of the chair to follow her and Hippy scrambles in to 
     take over.

51   INT. CORRIDOR/LADDER-WELL/LEVEL ONE LANDING                   51   

     Bud catches up with Lindsey in the corridor, and through the 
     following keeps pace with here as she make here inspection.

               Then why'd you come down?

     She stops abruptly to look at a leaky pipe.  He almost slams 
     into her.  She moves on, climbing down the ladder to the 
     lower level.

               You need me.  Nobody knows the systems 
               on this rig better than I do.  What 
               is something was to go wrong after 
               the Explorer clears off?  What would 
               you have done?

               Wow, you're right!  Us poor dumb ol' 
               boys might've had to think for 
               ourselves.  Coulda been a disaster.

     On the lower level landing, Lindsey opens a hatch into one 
     of the machine rooms.  ROAR OF PUMPS AND COMPRESSORS.

52   INT. MACHINE ROOM                                             52   

     Lindsey enters and moves expertly through the dark labyrinth 
     of pipes and roaring machinery.  Her eyes rove constantly 
     over fittings, gauges, circuit panels.

               You wanna know what I think?

               Not particularly.  Jeez, look where 
               this is set!  Morons.


                                                            p. 25

     She scowls at a pressure gauge and turn a valve minutely.

               I think you were worried about me.

               That must be it.

     Lindsey's on the move again, and Bud scrambles through the 
     pipes to keep up.

               No, I think you were.  Come on, admit 

               I was worried about the rig.  I've 
               got over four years invested in this 

               Oh, yeah, right... and you only had 
               three years with me.

     She looks up at him.

               You've got to have priorities.

                                                          CUT TO:

53   INT. BUD'S ROOM                                               53   

     Darkness.  The door opens and Bud snaps on the light.

               My bunk's the only one I can guarantee 
               won't be occupied.  You can grab a 
               couple hours before we get there.

     Lindsey slips past him into his tiny state-room, the only 
     private bunk on the rig.  Rank had its privileges.  His hand 
     on the door is just level with her eyes.  She notices his 
     wedding ring, a massive band of pure titanium (something 
     your fiancee might have picked out if she had a degree from 

               What are you still wearing that for?

               I don't know.  Divorce ain't final.  
               Forgot to take it off.


                                                            p. 26

     Bud stays in the doorway.  Lindsey takes a heaps of Bud's 
     clothes off the narrow bunk.  Start unconsciously 
     straightening the room.

               I haven't worn mine in months.

               Yeah, what's-his-name wouldn't like 
               it.  The Suit.

               Do you always have to call him that?  
               The Suit?  It makes you sound like 
               such a hick.  His name is Michael.

     Lindsey takes off her borrowed tennies and socks.

     Bud eyes her, sounding too casual.

               So what about "Michael" then... Mr. 
               Brooks Brothers... Mr. BMW.  You 
               still seeing him?

               No, I haven't seen him in a few weeks.

               What happened?

               Bud, why are you doing this?  It's 
               not part of you life any more.

               I'll tell you what happened... you 
               woke up one day and realized the guy 
               never made you laugh.

               You're right, Bud.  It was just that 
               simple.  Aren't you clever?  You 
               should get your own show... Ask Dr. 
               Bud, advice to the lovelorn from 
               three hundred fathoms.

     She closes the watertight door, forcing him out.  Locks it.  
     She turns and throws her shoe hard against the far wall.

                           LINDSEY (CONT'D)


                                                            p. 27

     She flops down on the bed, sitting... staring at the wall.  
     Her armor is gone.  She looks small and vulnerable.  A long 
     beat.  She reaches over to the tiny sink.  Amid the clutter 
     is a bottle of Bud's aftershave.  She unscrews it and takes 
     a sniff.  Catches herself.  Tosses it.

                           LINDSEY (CONT'D)

54   INT. QUARTERS/HEAD                                            54   

     Bud barges into the tiny head and puts some soap on his ring 
     finger.  He pulls the ring off roughly and throws it into 
     the toilet.  He reaches forward to flush.  Can't do it.  Now 
     really pissed off at himself, he reaches into the toilet 
     bowl, wrist deep in the chemical-blue water, and salvages 
     the ring.

     He puts it on and washes his hands.  The right hand stays 
     faintly blue no matter how hard he scrubs.


                                                          CUT TO:

55   EXT. DEEPCORE                                                 55   

     The platform is stopped, hovering in place.  Like a great 
     spacecraft setting own on a barren planet, the rig settles 
     into the bottom ooze.  Flatbed releases its tow lines and 
     heads back to its berth inside.

                                                          CUT TO:

56   INT. SUB-BAY                                                  56   

     CLOSE ON A PHOTOGRAPH, actually a computer-composited down-
     looking scan from a towed LIDAR (laser imaging sonar) rig.  
     It shows a faint, blurry outline of the Montana lying on her 
     side on a ledge part-way down the canyon wall.  There is no 
     detail.  A finger points to a flat ledge nearby.  An "X" has 
     been put on with a grease pencil.

                           COFFEY (V.O.)
               This is us.  We're just on the edge 
               of the Cayman Trough.  The Montana 
               is here, on its side, 300 meters 
               away and 70 meters below us.  We 
               think she slid down the wall, and 
               lodged against this outcropping.

     CUT WIDE, showing the rig crew gathered around a worktable 
     in the sub-bay.


                                                            p. 28

     The divers, Bud, Catfish, Sonny, Finler, Jammer, and the 
     four SEALs have their dry-suits on.  The pre-dive briefing.  
     Lindsey, One Night, and Hippy will crew the submersibles.  
     Wilhite is going around clipping DOSIMETER BADGES on 

               This tells us how much radiation we 

               Hey, whoah...  I can't handle no 
               radiation, man.  Forget it!  Include 
               me out.

               Hippy, you pussy.

               What good's the money if your dick 
               drops off in six months?

               We'll take reading as we go.  If the 
               reactor's breached or the warheads 
               have released radioactive debris, 
               we'll back away.  Simple.

               Okay... Hippy's not going... 
               McWhirter, you can run Little Geek.

     Bud pats the top of a small ROV, sitting next to its larger 
     brother, Big Geek.

               No way!  No way!  He can't fly an 
               ROV worth shit.  I'll go.  Shit!

                    (to all)
               On the dive, you will do absolutely 
               nothing without direct orders from 
               me, and you will follow my 
               instructions without discussion.  Is 
               this clear?  Alright, I want everyone 
               finished prep and ready to get wet 
               in fifteen minutes.

     The rig crew disperses, picking up helmets and diving gear.  
     Some are studying the diagrams of the Montana's interior 
     layout.  Bud takes Coffey aside as the others prepare.


                                                            p. 29

               Look, it's three AM.  These guys are 
               running on bad coffee and four hours 
               sleep.  You better start cutting 
               them some slack.

               I can't afford slack, Brigman.

               Hey, you come on my rig, you don't 
               talk to me, you start ordering my 
               guys around.  It won't work.  You 
               gotta know how to handle these 
               people... we have a certain way of 
               doing things here.

               I'm not interested in your way of 
               doing things.  Just get your team 
               ready to dive.

     End of discussion.  Coffey is walking away.  Burning, Bud 
     crosses to his gear locker.  Picks up his helmet.  Finler is 
     suiting out next to him.

               Hey, you know your hand is blue?

               Shut up and get your gear on.

     NEARBY, Monk comes over to pick his helmet up off the 
     worktable.  Hippy points to the heavy equipment case that 
     says F.B.S. DEEP SUIT/MARK IV.

               I've been meaning to ask you what 
               this thing is.

     Mink opens the case and shows them an unfamiliar diving suit, 
     what looks like a space helmet, and a large backpack.

               Fluid breathing system.  We just got 
               them.  We use it if we need to go 
               really deep.

               How deep?



                                                            p. 30

                           MONK (CONT'D)
               It's classified... you know.  Anyway, 
               you breathe liquid, so you can't be 
               compressed.  Pressure doesn't get to 

     Catfish is grappling with the concept.

               You're saying you get liquid in your 

               Oxygenated fluorocarbon emulsion.

     Monk take a clear plastic box full of O-rings off the shelf 
     and dumps them out.  He opens a valve on the backpack and 
     allows some of the fluid inside it to drain into the box.  
     Then he take Beany by the tail off Hippy's shoulder.


               Check this out.

     He drops Beany in the box and, before Hippy can protest, 
     closes the lid.

     Beany is forced under the surface.  He struggled for a second, 
     and bubbles come out of his mouth.  Then he casually swims 
     around in there, completely submerged... breathing liquid.  
     Catfish and the others stare into the box, amazed.

                           MONK (CONT'D)
               See?  He's diggin' it.

     Monk takes Beany out and hold him by the tail for a few 
     seconds to drain his lungs.  Then hands him back to Hippy.  
     The rat is annoyed, but otherwise alright.

               This is no bullshit hands down the 
               goddamnedest thing I ever saw.

                                                          CUT TO:

57   EXT. DEEPCORE/DROPOFF                                         57   

     Three sets of moving lights move outward from Deepcore.  Cab 
     One and Three, with Lindsey and Hippy at the controls 
     respectively, and One Night in the Flatbed.  Lindsey is in 
     the lead.


                                                            p. 31

     She approaches the cliff-like drop-off and starts to descend.

               Com-check, everybody.  Flatbed, you 
               on line?

                           ONE NIGHT
               Ten-four, Lindsey, read you loud and 

               Cab Three?

               Cab Three, check.  Right behind you.

               Going over the wall.  Coming to 
               bearing 065.  Everybody stay tight 
               and in sight.

                           ONE NIGHT
               Starting out descent.  Divers, how're 
               you doing?

58   EXT. FLATBED                                                  58   

     Eight divers ride the back of Flatbed like itinerant workers 
     on the way to the fields.  Bud and his civilian crew, Catfish, 
     Finler, and Jammer... sit across from the SEALs.  They are 
     in their gear and breathing from umbilical hooked in Flatbed's 
     low-pressure manifold.

               Okay so far.

               How deep's the drop-off here?

               This here's the bottomless pit, baby.  
               Two and a half miles straight down.

               Knock off the chatter.  Cab One, you 
               getting anything?

59   INT./EXT. CAB ONE                                             59   

     Lindsey consults her array of instruments.

               Cab One, do you see it yet?


                                                            p. 32

               The magnetometer is pegged.  Side-
               scan is showing a big return, but I 
               don't see anything yet.  Are you 
               sure you got the depth right on this?

                           BUD (V.O., FILTERED)
               You should be almost to it, ace.

     She turns the submersible and...

     The spotlight flares back from the great brass screw of the 
     Montana.  It dwarfs Cab One, FILLING FRAME.

               Uh, yeah, roger that... uh, found 

60   EXT. MONTANA/SUBMERSIBLES                                     60   

     Cab One maneuvers along the flank of the enormous sub, while 
     Flatbed and Cab Three move above it.  Wilhite take readings 
     with a hand-held neutron counter.

               Cab One, radiation readings?

               Neutron counter's not showing very 

               Wilhite, anything?

               Negative.  Nominal.

               Just continue forward along the hull.

               Copy that, continuing forward.  You 
               just want me to get shots of 
               everything, right?

               Roger, document as much as you can, 
               but keep moving.  We're on a tight 

               Copy that.


                                                            p. 33

     The great black hull of the Montana recedes into the darkness 
     beyond the puny beams of their lights.  It seems bigger than 
     the Titanic and just as eerie in its final resting place.  
     On it side, the sub's top deck becomes a wall along which 
     the tiny submersibles are moving.  Ahead, in the lights, is 
     a white painted circle.

               That's the midship hatch.  You see 
               it, Cab Three?

               Roger, I see it.

               Just get around so your lights are 
               on the hatch.

               Check.  Then I just hang with these 
               guys, right?


                           ONE NIGHT
               How do you want me?

               Just hold above it.  Alright, A team.

     Wilhite, Schoenick, and Monk unhook their short whip-
     umbilicals from the central manifold and roll off the side 
     of Flatbed.  They maneuver down toward the sub's hatch.  
     Hippy guides Cab Three in closer to the hatch area.

61   INT. CAB THREE                                                61   

     Hippy turns to Perry back in the lockout chamber, ready to 
     launch Little Geek.

     The ROV has a handheld neutron-counter gripped in its 
     manipulator arm.

                           MONK (V.O.)
               Stand by on the ROV.

               Perry, stand by on the ROV.
                    (to Little Geek)
               Sorry about this, little buddy.  
               Better you than me, know what I mean?


                                                            p. 34

     Hippy nods and Perry drops Little Geek through the hatch 
     into the water and feed out a length of tether.  Hippy picks 
     up the control box and watches the video screen, guiding the 
     ROV toward the Montana's hatch.

62   EXT. MONTANA HATCH AREA                                       62   

     The three SEALs have unlatched the deck cover and revealed 
     the hatch.  They open the out hatch and Monk swims down into 
     to narrow escape trunk.  He bangs on the inner hatch with a 
     wrench, listening carefully with his helmet pressed against 

               It's flooded.  Alright, I'm opening 
               her up.

     Straining hard in the confined space, he get the lower hatch 
     open, then swims backs out immediately.  He gestures to Hippy, 
     via Little Geek's vision, and Hippy flies the ROV into the 

63   EXT./INT. CAB ONE/MISSLE DECK                                 63   

     Meanwhile Cab One and Flatbed have proceeded forward along 
     the hull.  Beyond Lindsey's front port, the great hatches of 
     the Trident missile tubes roll toward us in procession.  
     Several of the hatch covers have been forced partway open by 
     the warping of the hull.

                           COFFEY (V.O.)
               Radiation is nominal.  The warheads 
               must still be intact.

               How many are there?

                           COFFEY (V.O.)
               24 Trident missiles.  Eight MIRVs 
               per missile.

               That's 192 warheads... And how 
               powerful are they?

               Your MIRV is a tactical nuke, 50 
               kilotons nominal yield.  Say five 
               times Hiroshima.

                           LINDSEY (V.O.)
               Jesus Christ... this is World War 
               Three in a can.


                                                            p. 35

                           COFFEY (V.O.)
               Let's knock off the chatter, please.

64   INT. CAB THREE                                                64   

     through a hatch, into a large grotto filled with pipes and 
     machinery.  The engine room.

                           MONK (V.O.)
               Getting a reading?

               It's twitching but it's below the 
               line you said was safe.

65   EXT. MONTANA MIDSHIP HATCH                                    65   

     Monk moves into the opening.

               Alright.  Let's get in there.

     Wilhite and Schoenick follow him through the escape trunk, 
     into the dark corridor beyond.

66   EXT. MONTANA/BOW SECTION                                      66   

     Out of the darkness ahead emerges the trailing edge of the 
     sail, big as a five-story building.  Far below her, Flatbed 
     moves along the edge of the ledge which supports the vast 
     sub.  Its lights, and Lindsey's strobes, reveal the tremendous 
     damage to the forward section as they pass the sail.  The 
     torn and twisted hull looms above Flatbed as it sets down.

     Coffey indicated an enormous rent where the bow section is 
     almost torn away from the rest of the hull.

               We'll go in through that large breach.

               Let's go, guys.

     Bud's team leaves Flatbed, swimming forward.  The opening is 
     a black mouth in their lights.  Coffey moves inside.  Bud 
     attaches one end of an orange nylon line to a piece of pipe 
     and moves into the wreck behind him.

                           BUD (CONT'D)
               Take it slow, stay on the line, and 
               stay in sight.  Watch for hatches 
               that could close on you, or any loose 
               equipment that could fall.


                                                            p. 36

     Jammer, Catfish, Finler, and Sonny follow him inside.

67   INT. MONTANA/FORWARD BERTHING SECTION                         67   

     They find themselves in the forward berthing compartment 
     with its rows of bunks.  The room is twisted and disheveled, 
     with bedding hanging from the bunks like the lolling tongues 
     of dead dogs.  Papers float in gentle eddying currents, 
     letters, pages from paperback novels, photos of girlfriends.

     Bud pays out the line and follows Coffey forward.  As they 
     pass sealed doors, Coffey pounds with a tool, listening.  
     All flooded.

68   INT. ENGINE ROOM                                              68   

     Monk leads his team along a corridor, following Little Geek's 
     tether.  Through a hatch into the engine room.  Their lights 
     play over flooded machinery.


     From the berthing Coffey's team swims up a companionway 
     towards the attack center.  He pulls at a buckled watertight 

               It's jammed.  Give me a hand.

     Jammer and Bud squeeze in around Coffey.  Together they wrench 
     the door open on its squealing hinges.  It give way suddenly, 
     flying open.  The suction pulls SOMETHING THROUGH.  It slams 
     Bud's shoulder.  He turns.  A FACE...

     RIGHT IN FRONT OF HIM!  He jerks back, gasping.

     Face to face with Barnes, the sonarman.  The ensign seems 
     unmarked, merely dismayed at his own mortality, judging from 
     his wide eyes and mouth.  Coffey reaches past Bud and pushes 
     the ensign's body out of the way.

                           COFFEY (CONT'D)
               Alright, let's keep moving.  We knew 
               we were going to see this.

     They enter the control room.  Their lights play over the 
     high-tech wreckage.

     Floating debris and bodies make shifting shadows on the walls 
     as they swirl in the currents.  A languid, weightless waltz.  
     They move through the carnage.

     Their lights pick out tableaux... the planesman still strapped 
     in his chair, someone jammed into the ceiling pipes, hanging


                                                            p. 37

     down.  Dead faces, pale in the lights.  Still.  We see only 

     Coffey locates the captain's body and rolls it over.  Removes 
     the missile arming key which hangs on a chain around the 
     dead man's neck.  Moves on. All business.  Bud turns back to 
     his guys.  Checking them.  He notices Jammer is breathing so 
     rapidly he's fogging his helmet.  Catfish, Finler, and Sonny 
     aren't much better.  A wave a panic seems imminent.

               How you guys doing?

               I'm alright, I'm dealing.

               Triple time sounds like a lotta money, 
               Bud.  It ain't.  I'm sorry...

               We're here now.  Let's get her done.

     We see Bud working, calming them, talking them through it.  
     He's sweating rivers in his helmet, not looking too steady.  
     His projection of calm to the others is his own salvation.

     Coffey pauses in the doorway to the communications room.

               This part I do alone.  Brigman, take 
               you men and continue aft.  Split up 
               into two teams of two.  Let's get 
               moving... we head back in fourteen 

     Bud leads his team into a narrow corridor.

70   INT. CORRIDOR/ROOMS                                           70   

     They search the rooms along the corridor with their lights 
     until they come to a vertical hatch, open.  a pit of darkness 

               Okay, Cat, Lew, Sonny.  You guys 
               stay on this deck.  Hook you line 
               onto mine.  Any problem, you tug my 
               line.  Two pulls.  Jammer, you're 
               with me.

     Bud drops down through the hatch to the level below, followed 
     by Jammer, who


                                                            p. 38

     barely fits through.  Catfish hooks his safety line onto 
     Bud's with a carabiner and move along the corridor with the 

71   EXT./INT. CAB ONE                                             71   

     Lindsey circles the hull, documenting, photographing.  Her 
     strobes sear the darkness, give glimpses of the dead 
     leviathan's form as her tiny submersible circles it like a 

72   INT. COMMUNICATIONS CENTER                                    72   

     Working from a plastic card, Coffey spins the dial on the 
     wall safe and opens it.  He removes several plastic binders... 
     the code books.  He also grabs handfuls of classified 
     documents and orders, and a set of missile arming keys, all 
     which he places in a pouch at his waist.

73   INT. CORRIDOR                                                 73   

     Bud leads Jammer through a long, claustrophobically narrow 
     corridor, tapping on the walls and hatches periodically.  
     After he taps, he waits a few moments.  There are no answering 
     taps.  They open doors and shine their lights into the rooms.  
     The are bodies, but they seem anonymous.  Crumpled shapes in 
     khaki or blue.  They undog and open a hatch.  Beyond it is 
     the largest chamber of the sub, the...

74   INT. MISSILE COMPARTMENT                                      74   

     The missile compartment is the large gallery a hundred and 
     twenty feet long and forty feet high, with two rows of 
     vertical launch tubes, 24 in all.  The chamber is divided 
     into three levels by a floor of open steel grillwork.

               Where are we?

               Missile compartment.  Those are the 
               launch tubes.

     They sweep their lights around the chamber.  Jammer turns... 
     his beam illuminating a body just beyond the door.  A 
     coveralled seaman turning slowly in the eddying current.  
     Small albino crabs crawl slowly over the man's face.  One 
     scuttles out of his gaping mouth.

               Lord Almighty.

               Hey, you okay?


                                                            p. 39

     Bud goes to him.  Gets up close to his face.  Sees that he's 
     not.  That he's hyperventilating.  Fighting nausea.  Bud 
     grabs him by the shoulders.

                           BUD (CONT'D)
               Deep and slow, big guy.  Deep and 
               slow.  Just breathe easy.

               I... they're all dead, Bud.  They're 
               all dead.  I thought... some of 
               them... you know...

               I'm taking you back out.

               No!  I'm okay now.  I just don't... 
               I can't go any further in.

     Bud sees that the big diver's breathing has stabilized.  He 
     looks at his watch.  Checker Jammer's pressure gauges.

               Okay, Jammer.  No problem.  You stay 
               right here.  I have to go there to 
               the end... you'll see my lights.  
               We'll stay in voice contact.  Just 
               hold onto the rope.  Five more 
               minutes.  Okay?

               Yeah, okay.  Okay.

     He moves off through the center aisle of the gallery swimming 
     between the huge cylinders.  He pays out the lifeline as he 

75   INT. COM-ROOM                                                 75   

     Coffey is working rapidly and efficiently, moving from one 
     rack of electronics gear to the next, setting thermite 
     grenades at vital points.  As the thermite ignites, it 
     generates an intense arc-bright light and tremendous heat.  
     The circuit chasses melt.  Coffey works calmly in the infernal 

76   INT. MISSILE COMPARTMENT                                      76   

     Bed negotiates his way through the tangle of wreckage near 
     the far end of the missile compartment.  He goes down a 
     stairwell to the lower level.  A HUNDRED FEET AWAY, Jammer 
     loses sight of Bud's dive-lights.  He starts to get nervous.


                                                            p. 40

     Suddenly his own lights begin to DIM, flickering lower and 

     They become little orange candles, the filament barely 
     glowing.  The darkness closes in.

               Bud?  BUD?!  You readin' me?  BUD?!!

     BUD, at the same moment, is fiddling with the connector cables 
     on his helmet lights, which are dimming and flickering.  He 
     hears nothing from his helmet transceiver.

     JAMMER, smacks the side of his helmet.  Shakes the transceiver 
     on his belt.

     Nothing... just static.  Then even the static dies.  Panic 

     He grabs the safety line and pulls twice.  Hard.  It is 
     snagged on a sharp metal edge ten feet from him.  He pulls 
     twice more, harder, hauling the thing.  The line severs.  
     Jammer stared at the frayed and floating toward him.  His 
     eyes bug.  He looks all around in the darkness.  Can't see 
     Bud.  Can't decide what to do.  We can see hysteria revving 
     up inside him like a flywheel.

     Then he becomes aware of a faint radiance flickering over 
     the walls.  It is a cold and ethereal light, unlike the warm-
     white of their dive lights.  It grows brighter.  He turns 
     slowly toward it.

     The glow is moving beneath the steel grill of the deck, 
     sending shafts of cold light flickering upward hypnotically, 
     coming toward him.

                           JAMMER (CONT'D)
               Bud?  Is that you?

     C.U. JAMMER, shielding his eyes, staring into the radiant 

     Guess what, Jammer?  It's not Bud.  In the brightest center 
     of the glow, SOMETHING is moving, a figure casting strange 
     inhuman shadow across the walls.

     Jammer blinks against the glare, his face registering total, 
     outright astonishment melting into terror.

     The glare pulses subtly, hypnotically.  The shifting shadow 
     falls across Jammer.  He finally snaps out of his fixity...

     Screaming and gulping air he spins away and starts clawing 
     hand over hand through the treacherous wreckage.


                                                            p. 41

     His harness catches on a twisted pipe.

     He struggles, totally out of control... the big man reduced 
     to a blind panic.

     Jammer heaves forward with all his adrenalized strength.

     He tears free of the entangling debris.  Launches like a 
     torpedo... slamming his backpack full force into the top 
     sill of the hatchway.  His tri-mix regulator takes the full 
     brunt of the impact.

     ON BUD, swimming furiously back toward Jammer's position.  
     The strange radiance is gone.  His dive light flare back to 
     full brightness.

               Jammer?  Answer me, buddy,  JAMMER?!

     He reaches Jammer only to find him thrashing violently in 
     place.  A seizure.

     Bud grapples with him.

                           BUD (CONT'D)
               Hang on, big guy.  Hang on!

     Catfish, Sonny, and Finler arrive from the corridor a moment 
     later.  They leap into the fray.

                           BUD (CONT'D)
               He's convulsing!

               It's his mixture!  Too much oxygen!

     Then they're all yelling at once, grappling with the big 
     man, struggling with the valves on his breathing gear.

               Crank it down, man!  We're gonna 
               lose him...

               SHIT, it's stuck... goddamnit!

               You got it?!  You got it?

               Yeah, yeah... yeah.  It's turning.

     Jammer's convulsion ends.  He goes limp.


                                                            p. 42

                           BUD (CONT'D)
               We gotta get him out of here.  Come 
                    (to Jammer)
               Hang on, buddy.

     They drag Jammer's slack form into the corridor, hauling 
     their way rapidly back along the lifeline.

77   INT./EXT. CAB ONE & MONTANA SAIL                              77   

     Lindsey is approaching the monolith of the sail, maneuvering 
     to clear the horizontal diving plane.  Then her lights go 
     dim and her thrusters lose power.

     Suddenly a bright corona breaks around the bulk of the sail 
     and SOMETHING appears right in front of her, a glowing object 
     moving like a bat out of hell right at her!  It is slightly 
     smaller than submersible and we only get a glimpse.  What we 
     think we see in the diffuse glow is a translucent ovoid, 
     open at the front with a spinning vortex of light inside... 
     like some hallucinatory jet engine.  And it's hauling ass.

     Lindsey jinks left.  The object jogs right.  She fights the 
     control as her sub slews around, slamming broadside into the 
     sail.  K-BAM!  Her power comes back up.  Righting Cab One, 
     she spins to look through the aft viewport in time to see 
     the object racing away in a broad arc.  It pulls a high-G 
     turn and dives straight down.

     We see the object zip behind Flatbed.  One Night can't see 
     it.  The thing spirals down into the darkness like a hit-and-
     run drunk, diving along the wall into the abyss until it is 
     lost to view.

     HOLD ON Lindsey excited, amazed... dazed.  Her hands are 
     shaking.  Suddenly Bud's voice blares out over the open 

                           BUD (V.O.)
               CAB ONE!  CAB ONE!  Meet me at 
               Flatbed!  This is a diver emergency!!  
               Do you copy?  Lindsey?!

     She has a hard time focusing on what he's saying.  Finally...

               Copy you, Bud.  On my way.

                                                          CUT TO:


                                                            p. 43

78   INT. DEEPCORE INFIRMARY -- AN HOUR LATER                      78   

     Jammer is unconscious on a folding cot set up in the tiny 
     cubicle of the infirmary.  Monk, who is cross-trained as a 
     medic as well as a demolitions man, has hung an IV of 
     something.  Bud and the SEAL are in the room, the others 
     hovering outside.

               Whattya think?

               I'm a medic, which is mostly about 
               patching holes.  This type of thing... 
               there's not much I can do.  The coma 
               could last hours or days.

     Bud, torn by guilt, gazes at the big man lying pathetically 
     on the cot.

                                                          CUT TO:

79   INT. CONSOLE MODULE                                           79   

     The SEALs, minus Monk, are all gathered inside, debriefing 
     with DeMarco via closed-circuit video.

                           DEMARCO (VIDEO)
               Did any of you see it?

               Negative.  But there was definitely 
               a Russian bogey.  The Brigman woman 
               saw it.

               CINCLANTFLT's gonna go apeshit.  Two 
               Russian attack subs, a Tango and 
               Victor, have been tracked within 
               fifty miles of here... and now we 
               don't know what the hell they are.  
               Okay, I don't have any choice.  I'm 
               confirming you to go to Phase Two.

     Wilhite and Schoenick glance uneasily at each other.

     Coffey is silent.  He is vibrating with tension... his fists 
     clenched to prevent the shaking.  He is wrestling with the 
     moment, knowing it is, in a way, a point of no return.

                           DEMARCO (CONT'D)
               Is there any problem?


                                                            p. 44

               Yes... I mean no.  Negative, sir.

     Coffey takes a deep breath.  Lets it out.  Phase Two is 
     clearly a big deal.

                                                          CUT TO:

80   INT. MAINTENANCE ROOM B/DARKROOM                              80   

     The maintenance room doubles as a camera workstation.  An 
     adjoining head serves as darkroom.  Lindsey is glumly 
     reassembling Cab One's camera housings.

               Did you get anything on the cameras.  
               Video or anything?

               No.  Look, forget it.  I don't want 
               to talk about it.

               Fine.  Be that way.

               I don't know what I saw.  Okay?  
               Coffey wants to call it a Russian 
               submersible, fine.  It's a Russian 
               submersible.  No problem.

               But you think it's something else.  
               What?  One of ours?


               Whose then?  Lindsey?  Talk to me...

     Lindsey is wrestling with a feeling which is somehow also 
     certain knowledge.

               Jammer saw something in there, 
               something that scared the hell out 

               His mixture got screwed up.  He 
               panicked and pranged his regulator.


                                                            p. 45

               But what did he see that made him 

               What do you think he saw?

               I don't know.  I DON'T KNOW!

     Hippy comes pounding up, sticks his head in, gesturing 

               Hey, you guys... hurry up, check 
               this out!  They're announcing it.

     They follow him into the corridor, trotting down to the mess 

81   INT. MESS HALL                                                81   

     General melee as they rush in, everybody focused on the TV.

               Quiet!  Quiet!

               Turn it up, bozo.

               ... the Kremlin continues to deny 
               Russian involvement in the sinking 
               of the Trident sub USS Montana.  The 
               Navy has not released the names of 
               the 156 crewmembers, who are all 
               presumed dead at this time.  Civilian 
               employees of a Benthic Petroleum 
               offshore drilling rig--

               Hey that's us!


               --are apparently participating in 
               the recovery operation but we have 
               little information about their 
               involvement.  On the scene now is--

               BOOOOH!  We want names!


                                                            p. 46

               Hey, hey!  There's the Explorer.

     A LONG LENSE VIDEO SHOT of the Benthic Explorer and the other 
     vessels in a stormy sea CUTS TO a shot of BILL TYLER, the on-
     scene reporter, in rain gear, clutching his microphone.  He 
     is on the deck of a Navy support ship, being used as a staging 
     area from the press, well away from the center of the 

               --there is a tremendous amount of 
               activity.  With Cuba only 80 miles 
               away, the massive buildup of US ships 
               and aircraft in the area has drawn 
               official protest from Havana and 
               Moscow and has led to a redirection 
               of Soviet warships into the Caribbean 

               How would you describe the mood there?

               The mood is one of suspicion, even 
               confrontation.  A number of Russian 
               and Cuban trawlers, undoubtedly 
               surveillance vessels, have been 
               circling within a few miles throughout 
               the day, and Soviet aircraft have 
               repeatedly been warned away from the 

               This sucks.

82   INT. CORRIDOR/SUB BAY                                         82   

     Bud, Lindsey, and Hippy walking along the corridor, Hippy in 
     a black mood of incipient paranoia.

               What's the matter with you?

               Now we're right in the middle of 
               this big-time international incident.  
               Like the Cuban Missile Crisis or 

               Figured that out for yourself, did 


                                                            p. 47

               We got Russian subs creeping around.  

     Something goes wrong they could say anything happened down 
     here, man.  Give our folks medals, know what I mean?

               Hippy, just relax.  You're making 
               the women nervous.

               Cute, Virgil.

               No, I mean it.  Those SEALs aren't 
               telling us diddly.  Something's going 

               Hippy, you think everything's a 

               Everything is.

     One Night is pounding down the corridor from the sub bay.

                           ONE NIGHT
               Hurry up!  Coffey's splitting with 
               Flatbed! He got me to show him the 
               controls, then his guys suited up 
               and they're rolling.

     Bud breaks into a run, passing her.

               Goddamnit!  D'you tell him we need 
               it right now?

                           ONE NIGHT
               I told him we had to get the umbilical 
               unhooked ASAP.

83   INT. SUB BAY                                                  83   

     Bud clears the door in time to see an empty moonpool, roiling 
     with turbulence.

     He runs to the edge and looks down.  Flatbed is a vague shape 
     moving off.


                                                            p. 48


                                                          CUT TO:

84   EXT. EXPLORER BRIDGE -- DAY                                   84   

     The sky is charcoal, the sea is a mountain range of gray 
     slopes.  Waves thunder over the foredeck, whipped by eighty-
     knot winds.  Men in life jackets scurry like insects.  Off 
     the port bow, the ASW destroyer ALBANY vanishes and reappears 
     among waves sixty feet tall.  McBride scream orders that 
     can't be heard to the crewmen on deck.  He staggers back 
     along the bridge railing.

85   INT./EXT. BENTHIC EXPLORER BRIDGE -- DAY                      85   

     McBride steps into the quiet of the control room.  He turns 
     on De Marco.

               We're trying to get unhooked and get 
               out of here... and your boys go 

               They'll be back in two hours.

               Two hours?!  We're gonna be getting 
               the shit kicked out of us by our 
               friend Fred in two hours!

     De Marco's expression is infuriatingly calm... icy.  McBride 
     looks at his watch and swears under his breath.

                                                          CUT TO:

86   EXT. USS MONTANA WRECK SITE                                   86   

     For a second time the black hull of the ballistic missile 
     sub is illuminated by diver's lights.  Tiny figures, the 
     divers move like moths around a distant streetlight.  Wilhite, 
     Monk and Schoenick are clustered around an open missile hatch.  
     Using a large lift bag, they are removing the frangible 
     fiberglass, or 'diaphragm'.  Coffey pilots Flatbed with 
     increasing deftness, deploying the big arm to aid in the 

     DOWN ANGLE as the diaphragm lifts away... revealing the blunt 
     nose of the TRIDENT C-4 MISSLE.  Like looking down the barrel 
     of a gun at the bullet aimed right at you.

                                                          CUT TO:


                                                            p. 49

87   INT. DEEPCORE/MESS HALL                                       87   

     burning, rolling ponderously as it sinks in stormy seas.

                           NEWS ANCHOR (V.O.)
               Little is known at this hour about 
               the events leading up to the 
               collision.  The US Navy guided missile  
               cruiser Appleton apparently struck 
               the Soviet 'Udaloy' class destroyer 
               in low visibility conditions...

     VARIOUS CUTS of men in life jackets among huge waves... Rescue 
     helicopters hovering.  Shaky camera work.  Wind blasting.  
     INTERCUT WITH REACTIONS of the rig crew watching.

                           NEWS ANCHOR (V.O.) (CONT'D)
               In violent seas little hope remains 
               for over a hundred Russian crewmen 
               still missing after the sinking an 
               hour ago.

     SHOT OF AMERICAN CRUISER, burning, listing to one side in 
     heavy seas.


                           NEWS ANCHOR (CONT'D)
               Soviet military spokesmen have claimed 
               that the collision constituted an 
               unprovoked attack.  This was denied--

     It continues.  Bud looks at Lindsey.  She turns to him, 
     expression grim.

               Bud, this is big time.

                                                          CUT TO:

88   EXT. MONTANA WRECKSITE                                        88   

     The divers are working head-first in the missile's launch 
     tube.  Monk reads from a plasticized card, directing the 
     other two step by step.  The arcane litany is punctuated by 
     the hissing rasp of their breathing.

                           WILHITE (FILTERED)
               Separation sequencer disconnected.  


                                                            p. 50

                           MONK (FILTERED)
               Remove explosive bolts one through 
               six in counterclock-wise sequence.

                           SCHOENICK (FILTERED)
               Check... removing bolt one.

89   INT. DEEPCORE                                                 89   

     ON THE RIG CREW, watching.  Bathed in the light of the video 

                           NEWSCASTER (V.O.)
               ... just learned that Soviet 
               negotiators have walked out of the 
               strategic arms limitation summit in 
               protest over the incident this 

     Bud switches the channel.

                           ANOTHER NEWSCASTER
               ... US and NATO military forces have 
               been put on full alert worldwide 
               this morning in the wake of...

               It's on every channel.

     Bud switches again.  Reception is getting worse as the storm 
     affect the satellite down-link to Explorer.  THE SCREEN shows 
     a reporter on a city street, stopping people at random.  
     Their answers are edited together:

                           YOUNG WOMAN
               You just feel so hopeless.  You can 
               see it coming, but what can you do?  
               What can anyone do?

                           CONSTRUCTION WORKER
               Hey, they don't want war any more 
               than we do.  You think about it, you 
               say... hey, they love their kids 
               too.  So why are we doing this?

     He is replaced by a self-righteous, middle-aged woman.

               If the Russians sank that submarine, 
               they deserve what they got and a lot 
               more, if you ask me, and you did.  I 
               think we've been pussyfooting around 
               with them long enough.


                                                            p. 51

90   EXT. USS MONTANA                                              90   

     It is now clear what the SEALs are doing.  Using large lift 
     bags and Flatbed's big arm, they have pulled one of the 
     Trident C-4 missiles partway out of its launch tube, and 
     have partially disassembled the nose-shroud, exposing several 
     of the MIRV warheads within.

     Moving very carefully, Wilhite and Schoenick ease one of the 
     individual MIRVs out of its bracket.  Hanging under a lift-
     bag in a jerry-rigged harness, the three-foot long warhead 
     is move gently by the divers to the back of Flatbed.

91   INT. DEEPCORE/VIDEO SCREEN                                    91   

     Another man in the street interview, tortured by static.

               Scared?  I'm scared ____-less.  But 
               if it happens it happens, nothing I 
               can do about it.  Right?  So why 
               think about it?

                                                          CUT TO:

92   INT. SUB-BAY                                                  92   

     Flatbed surfaces in boiling foam.  The rig crew are all 
     waiting.  Like a crack pit-crew Bud's people leap onto Flatbed 
     while its deck is still awash and start to work on the Navy 
     divers, unsealing their helmets and uncoupling their 
     umbilicals.  Hippy and Bud start to untie a cylindrical object 
     wrapped in one of the SEAL's gear bags.  Coffey emerges from 
     the hatch.

               Don't touch that.  Just step away.  

               Excusez moi.

               Coffey, we're a little pressed for 

               Monk, Schoenick... secure the package.

     The two SEALs unlash the object in the black bag.  Bud an 
     Lindsey exchange a glance.  He glares at Coffey as they pass 
     each other.  One Night nimbly climbs the hatch-tower and 
     drops in.  Bud swings the heavy hatch up, balancing it, and 
     grins down at One Night.


                                                            p. 52

               This ain't no drill, slick.  Make me 

                           ONE NIGHT
               Piece of cake, baby.

     He swings the hatch closed with a CLANG.

                                                          CUT TO:

93   EXT. DEEPCORE                                                 93   

     The big A-frame, massive as a railroad bridge, to which the 
     umbilical from the Explorer is attached.  Flatbed rises INTO 
     FRAME arcing around the coupling mechanism F.G.  One Night 
     deploys the big hydraulic arm.

     It unfold from Flay bed like a huge steel spider leg, its 
     claw-like 'gripper' opening.

94   INT./EXT. BENTHIC EXPLORER BRIDGE -- DAY                      94   

     An ALARM sounds stridently on the dynamic-positioning console.

               We're losing number two thruster.  
               Bearing's going.

95   INT. THRUSTER ROOM TWO                                        95   

     Deep in one of the catamaran hulls, the positioning thruster 
     motor is SCREAMING like a steel banshee above its usual roar.  
     It EXPLODES with smoke and shrapnel.  A roaring fire erupts.  
     Crewmen run shouting in the smoke.

96   INT. EXPLORER BRIDGE                                          96   

     Now a KLAXON is going off as the ship begins to slew in the 
     high winds.

               It's not holding.  We're swinging 
               out of position!

97   EXT. EXPLORER'S DECK/LAUNCH WELL                              97   

     As the ship slews, the umbilical is drawn off vertical.  It 
     goes tight as a bowstring.  Pulled to the edge of the launch 
     well, it rips down the side with a godawful screech, tearing 
     loose ladders and floats.


                                                            p. 53

98   EXT. DEEPCORE/A-FRAME                                         98   

     Flatbed's manipulator has gripped the de-coupling mechanism 
     when the cable suddenly pulls taut.  The sub is jerked 
     sideways, its grip dislodged.  We see One Night get tossed 
     around inside.

99   INT. DEEPCORE                                                 99   

     Lindsey is in the corridor with a cup of tea when the whole 
     rig BOOMS LIKE A GONG and lurches sideways.  She's wearing 
     her tea when Bud tears through a doorway and goes pounding 
     past her.  The intercom blares...

                           HIPPY (INTERCOM)
               Bud to control!  Emergency!  Bud to 

     Bud claws his way up the ladder to level two.  The rig BOOMS 
     and shudders as...

100   EXT. DEEPCORE                                               100   

     The rig begins to move. The enormous skid breaks loose.  
     Starts to slide, plowing furrows in the bottom.  One Night 
     junks the controls, pivoting her submersible as the A-frame 
     looms toward her.

101   INT. DEEPCORE/CONTROL MODULE                                101   

     Bud runs in, past Hippy, and grabs the mike.

               Topside, topside... pay out some 
               slack, we're getting dragged!

102   EXT. EXPLORER DECK                                          102   

     The winch man staggers along the railing, blasted by 80-knot 
     winds.  He sprints for the base of the enormous crane which 
     supports the umbilical winch.  A wave blasts him into the 
     bulkhead.  He half-crawls to the ladder going up to the winch-
     house.  As he climbs the winch's heave-compensator slides up 
     and down, FILLING FRAME behind him.

     It is bottoming-out with a sound like a piledriver, overloaded 
     by the strain on the cable.  It chooses that moment to fail.  

103   INT./EXT. DEEPCORE CONTROL MODULE                           103   

     Lindsey has joined Bud, looking out the front viewport.


                                                            p. 54

               We're heading right for the drop 

104   EXT. EXPLORER DECK                                          104   

     The deck is ripped upward as the entire 40-ton crane is pulled 
     over by the weight of Deepcore.  It topples in the launch 
     well with a roar of tortured steel that rivals the storm.  
     An EXPLOSION OF WATER.  UNDERWATER, the crane tumbles between 
     the twin hulls.  Trailing a vortex of foam and debris, it 
     roars down on us, FILLING FRAME WITH BLACKNESS.

105   INT. EXPLORER BRIDGE                                        105   

     McBride stares in shock at the churning cauldron of the launch 
     well.  Grabs the underwater telephone.

               Bud!  We've lost the crane!

                           BUD (V.O.)
               What?  Say again.

               THE CRANE!  WE'VE LOST THE CRANE.  
               IT'S ON ITS WAY TO YOU!!

106   INT. DEEPCORE/CONTROL MODULE                                106   

     Everyone is stunned by what is happening.  Lindsey fires up 
     the sonar.

               Got it!  It's dropping straight to 

     She puts the signal over the speakers and the room fills 
     with eerie PINGING.

     Bud shouts over the intercom.

               Rig for impact!  Seal all exterior 
               hatches.  Move it!  Let's go!

     VARIOUS ANGLES, QUICK CUTS, as everyone runs to comply:

     The rig crew pounding down the narrow corridors.  Diving 
     through low hatchways.  Hatches are closed and the wheels 
     spun down.  Hippy puts Beany into a ZIP-LOK BAG and seals 


                                                            p. 55

107   EXT. DEEPCORE                                               107   

     The umbilical drops down in slack loops out of the blackness 
     above, draping itself over the habitat in large coils.  One 
     Night pilots her submersible feverishly among the falling 
     loops.  She banks and twists.  A length of heavy umbilical 
     slams onto her neck, tipping the sub.

     She manages to get out from under it a keep going.

108   INT. CONTROL MODULE                                         108   

     Through the front viewport they can see the coils of cable 
     piling up in front of the rig.  The hull booms with impacts 
     as the massive stuff hits.

     Everyone hold their breath as the sonar return-pings get 
     closer... and closer.  And closer...

     An ENORMOUS SHAPE plunges into the floodlight in front of 
     the rig.

     K-WHAM!!  The 40-ton crane hits like a flatiron thirty feet 
     in front of them.

     A clean miss.  Much WHOOPING AND CHEERING.  Then...

     The crane topples slowly over the back.  It rolls down the 
     slope of the drop-off, gathering speed.  Then tumbles over 
     the cliff into the abyssal canyon.

     The coiled umbilical starts to pay out after it like rope 
     after a harpoon.

     And they're still attached.

               Oh shit.

     An agonizing few seconds.  Then... the cable pulls taut.

     K-BOOM!!  The rig is slammed by the shock.  Everyone is 
     knocked off his feet, into walls and equipment.

109   EXT. DEEPCORE                                               109   

     The rig begins to slide.  It tilts over the embankment and 
     grinds down the slope of the drop-off in a cloud of silt.  
     The cable pulling it inexorably toward the cliff.  The 
     framework twists and slams into rocks.  SCREECHING AND 
     GROANING of tortured steel.


                                                            p. 56


     All hell has broken loose.  SIRENS, SCREAMING, a KLAXON 
     HOOTING moronically.

     Bud sprints from Control, bouncing off the corridor walls as 
     the rig lurches and tilts.  The lights go out.  Emergency 
     light come on.  He trips and falls, scrambles up, running 

     IN THE LADDERWELL of trimodule C, Lindsey runs toward the 
     machine rooms.

     K-BOOM!  A searing bright EXPLOSION in the electrical room.  
     Flames roar through the doorway.  She dashes to a seawater 
     hose hanging nearby and starts to unroll it.  She sees Coffey 
     and Schoenick in maintenance, lashing down the mystery 

               Hey!  Get on this hose, you turkeys!

111   INT. TRIMODULE C/COMPRESSOR ROOM                            111   

     Monk is working in a spray of seawater, turning valves to 
     stop the flow of ruptured pipes.  Behind him, a wall of flame 
     blossoms through the door from the electrical room, driving 
     the back with the heat.  A reservoir-tanks breaks loose from 
     one of the compressor assemblies.  In rolls at him, crushing 
     his legs against machinery.  The fire roars into the room.

112   INT. SUB BAY                                                112   

     Hippy runs in.  The place is going nuts.  Water floods from 
     the moonpool as the rig tilts.  Wilhite is dancing across 
     the deck, leaping over compressed-gas cylinders which are 
     rolling around loose.  Cab One jumps clear off its cradle 
     and slides SCREECHING across the deck.  Wilhite, running 
     before the 12-tom juggernaut, had no place to go.  The SEAL 
     dives into the churning moonpool.  Cab One slams into the 
     end wall, then spins and rolls toward Hippy.

     He starts to run.  Drop something.  Looks back.

     Beany, in his zip-loc bag, is lying in the path of the slide 

     Hippy runs back.  Scoops up the baggie.  Cab One FILLS FRAME 
     behind him.

     He makes it through the door an instant before the thing 
     hits behind him, buckling the steel doorframe.


                                                            p. 57

     Wilhite is clawing up the sheep skirting of the moonpool.  
     He gets his fingers over the top.  Pulls himself up...

     A steel helium tank slams against his fingers, crushing them, 
     and he falls back.  More tanks bounce over the lip of the 
     pool, hammering Wilhite down into the foaming water.

     He doesn't surface.

113   EXT. DEEPCORE                                               113   

     The rig is sliding to the edge of the cliff.  Beyond it... 
     the bottomless pit of the Cayman Trough.  It slams, crushing 
     and twisting, into a rock outcropping and stops, hanging 
     over the precipice.

114   INT. TRIMODULE A/QUARTERS                                   114   

     Perry is trapped as the trimodule floods with stunning 
     swiftness.  He makes it through an emergency hatch between 
     floors but can't get it closed.  The inrushing tide blasts 
     it open.  He scramble upward to the next hatch.  Spins the 
     wheel.  No time.  He is slammed against the ceiling by the 
     force of the water.

115   INT. DRILL ROOM                                             115   

     Lew Finler, Tommy Ray Dietz, and Lupton McWhirter fight their 
     way toward the door as the drill room floods rapidly.  Ahead, 
     the big automated watertight door is closing like a motorized 
     bank-vault.  They reach it just as it is closing, but can't 
     prevail against the strength of the motors.  FROM THE FAR 
     SIDE, we can see them screaming soundlessly at the tiny 
     pressure window in the door.  We can hear the dull THUNK of 
     their pounding.


     Coffey and Schoenick, in emergency breathing masks, are 
     fighting the fire with a seawater hose and fire extinguishers.  
     Smoke and steam choke the dark chambers.

     Nearby, Lindsey grabs Hippy's arm as he is running past and 
     drags him into the blazing compressor room.  Hands him her 
     seawater hose.  Wide-eyes, he starts blasting everything in 
     sight with water.

               No! Hold it on me!

     She rushed into the teeth of the fire as Hippy blasts her 
     with a spray of water, following her into the intense heat.


                                                            p. 58

     She grabs Monk, who is semiconscious, and drags him out of 
     the blazing room... Hippy dancing back with the hose, 
     tripping, blasting her in the face.

     But it works.  They get Monk clear.

117   INT. DRILL ROOM CORRIDOR                                    117   

     Bud comes pounding down the flooding corridor in time to see 
     the water in the rill room swirl above the pressure window, 
     obscuring the faces of the trapped men.  He claws futility 
     at the door.  The motors and the fail-safe latching mechanism 
     are on the opposite side.  Through the pressure window he 
     watches helplessly as they drown.  We don't see what he sees, 
     but we know what he sees.  Suddenly the bulkhead next to him 
     gives way and a freezing torrent thunders in.  Bud is blown 
     off his feet a hurled along the corridor.

     He scramble up somehow, splashing waist deep toward the 
     opposite end of the corridor where another of the hydraulic 
     doors is closing inexorably.  He's not going to make it.  He 
     reaches it a moment too late to squeeze through.

     Grabs the edge of the door and desperately tries to stop it 
     from closing with the strength of this arms.  It doesn't 
     work.  The steel door closes on the fingers of his left hand, 
     pinning them in the doorframe.

     But something amazing happens.  His wedding ring lodges 
     between the door and frame, preventing his fingers from being 
     crushed and the door from sealing and locking.

     It resists tons of pressure, denting but not collapsing.

     The freezing sea pours in until only his head is clear.

               Heeyy!!  HHHEEEYYY!!

     ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE DOOR, Catfish and Sonny come pounding 
     up.  They see his face at the tiny window and his hand jammed 
     in the door.  Sonny wedges a crowbar in the narrow opening 
     and starts to pry.  Catfish whips open his jackknife and 
     slashes the hydraulic hoses on the door actuator.  He is 
     sprayed with red hydraulic fluid, machine blood.

     Together they force open the door.  Bud is blown through in 
     a torrent of water.  Sonny is thrown back into some pipes.  
     Breaks his arm.

     Together they somehow heave the door shut manually, cutting 
     off the flow.

     Catfish hammers the fail-safe latch home with the crowbar.


                                                            p. 59

     Bud lies gasping and shivering... staring at the tiny band 
     of metal that saved him.

                                                     DISSOLVE TO:

118   EXT. DEEPCORE/ONE HOUR LATER                                118   

     LOOKING DOWN THE WALL of the canyon as Big Geek moves beneath 
     us, tilting up to show Deepcore perched at the very edge of 
     the abyss.  The rig is twisted and dented, covered with loops 
     of umbilical, trimodule-A a mass of wreckage.

     The ROV passes across the front of the control module.  
     Through the front port, two figures can be seen in the light 
     of a single emergency lamp.

                           SONNY (V.O. STATIC)
               Mayday, mayday.  This is Deepcore 
               Two calling Benthic Explorer.  Do 
               you read, over?

119   INT. CONTROL MODULE                                         119   

     Sonny flips some switches on the UQC acoustic transceiver.  
     Tries again.

               Benthic Explorer, Benthic Explorer.  
               Do you read, over?  This is Deepcore--

               Forget it, Sonny.  They're gone.

120   INT. TRIMODULE                                              120   

     Bud walks down the corridor from control, slowly... as if 
     carrying a great weight.  The air is still thick with smoke.  
     The power off... everything lit by emergency lights.  
     Makeshift quarters have been set up in the mess hall, with 
     blankets laid out on the tables, and with folding cots in 
     the storage room across the hall.  Jammer is still 
     unconscious.  Coffey and Schoenick bring Monk in on a 
     stretcher, and set him up on a table.  He is conscious but 
     dazed with painkillers, his led splinted.

               Did you find Wilhite?


     He and Bud lock eyes.  Bud bites back on his recriminations, 
     but his gaze blames Coffey.  He turns away.


                                                            p. 60

                           COFFEY (CONT'D)
                    (Bud turns)
               I was under orders.  I had no choice.

     Coffey's manner is subdued, contrite.  A marked contrast to 
     his previous brusque arrogance.  He's wrestling with his own 
     loss, a sever blow to the tight brotherhood of a SEAL unit.  
     Bud's anger is not dispelled.  But he can't address it now.  
     He moves on.

     PAST THE INFIRMARY, where Sonny Dawson is rigging a sling 
     over his own broken arm.  He cries out in pain, cursing at 
     himself.  LOOKING DOWN THE CENTRAL WELL as Bud crosses.  
     Down through the grill decking we can see the bottom level 
     of the module is flooded.  Catfish is down there welding, 
     sending shivering reflections through the chamber.

121   INT. MACHINE ROOM                                           121   

     Lindsey is working, up to her knees in water.  She is covered 
     with grease, tools scattered around.  Bud puts his hand on 
     her shoulder.  She looks up, blows some hair out of her eyes.

               What's the scoop, ace?

               I can get power to this module and 
               sub-bay if I remote these busses.  
               I've gotta get past the mains, which 
               are a total melt-down.

     Rather than trigger anger and invective, the disaster seems 
     to have affected her in a different way.  She's accepted the 
     situation, now that's it's done, and is immersing herself in 
     technical tasks, which are for her therapeutic.

               Need some help?

               Thanks.  No, I can handle it.  Bud... 
               there won't be enough to run the 
               heaters.  In a couple hours this 
               place is going to be as cold as a 
               meat locker.

               What about O-2?

               Brace yourself.


                                                            p. 61

                           LINDSEY (CONT'D)
               We've got about 12 hours worth if we 
               close off the sections we're not 

               The storm's gonna last longer than 
               12 hours.

               I can extend that.  There's some 
               storage tanks outboard on the wrecked 
               module.  I'll have to go outside to 
               tie onto them.

     She goes back to her task, working efficiently with a socket 

               Hey, Lins...
                    (she looks up)
               I'm glad your here.

               Yeah?  Well I'm not.

     The sub bay is still a mess.  Dark.  A few battery-operated 
     lamps.  Flatbed is back, floating in the moonpool.

     One Night and Hippy are in deep concentration, piloting the 
     two ROVs in an image survey of the rig.  Bud comes up behind 
     them, check her screen first.

     BIG GEEK'S MONITOR shows a view of the aft section of the 
     rig.  The drilling derrick had collapsed across Cab Three, 
     totaling it.  A girder is jammed through its acrylic front 

                           ONE NIGHT
               Right through the brainpan.  Deader'n 
               dogshit, boss.

                    (to Hippy)
               Where're you?

               Quarters.  Level two.

122   INT. TRIMODULE A/QUARTERS                                   122   

     Little Geek rises up through the open central hatch, pivoting 
     in a circle to scan the flooded interior.


                                                            p. 62

123   INT. SUB BAY/R.O.V. STATION                                 123   

     the structure is a shambles.  The lights of the little robot 
     fall upon a figure... Perry.  Lying on the deck, almost 
     looking like he's asleep.

               That's Perry.

                    (lets his breath out 
               That's it then.  Finler, McWhirter, 
               Dietz, and Perry.  Jesus.

                    (gestured at the screen)
               Do we just leave him there?

               Yeah, for now.  Our first priority's 
               to get something to breathe.

                                                          CUT TO:

124   EXT. DEEPCORE                                               124   

     Catfish and Lindsey, in suits and helmets, drop down from 
     the glare of the moonpool onto the dark sea floor under the 
     rig.  Walking, they pull their umbilicals behind them and 
     head out through the twisted wreckage.  Little Geek follows 
     along like a dog at their heels.  They settle beside a valve 
     assembly at the base of the wrecked module.

               Cat, you tie onto this manifold.  
               There's some tanks on the other side; 
               I'm gonna go check them out.

               You watch yourself.

     He begins to attach one end of a coiled-up high-pressure 
     hose to a manifold.

     She takes the other end of the hose and moves off into the 
     darkness.  Little Geek goes with her faithfully.

125   INT. SUB BAY                                                125   

     Cab One is hanging from the overhead crane while One Nigh 
     works to repair it.


                                                            p. 63

     Bud is nearby, tending hose for the divers and handing her 
     tools.  Talking while they work.  Hippy is across the moonpool 
     running Little Geek.

                           ONE NIGHT
               Gimme a three-eighths socket on a 
               long extension.
                    (he hands it to her)
               So there you were--

               There we were, side by side, on the 
               same ship, for two months.  I'm tool-
               pusher and we're testing this 
               automated derrick of hers.  So, we 
               get back on the beach and... we're 
               living together.

                           ONE NIGHT
               Doesn't mean you had to marry her.

               We were due to go back out on the 
               same ship.  Six months of tests.  If 
               you were married you got a state-
               room.  Otherwise it was bunks.

                           ONE NIGHT
               Okay, good reason.  Then what?

               It was alright for a while, you know.  
               But then she got promoted to project 
               engineer on this thing, couple years 

                           ONE NIGHT
               She went front-office on you.  Tighten 
               that for me, right there.  That's 

               Well, you know Lindsey, too damn 
               aggressive-- Son of a--!!

     He's jammed his fingers with a wrench torquing down a bolt.  
     Whips his hand out.

                           BUD (CONT'D)
               She didn't leave me... she just left 
               me behind.

     She puts her arm around his shoulders, somehow managing to 
     be fraternal, maternal and suggestive all at the same time.


                                                            p. 64

                           ONE NIGHT
               Bud, let me tell you something.  She 
               ain't half as smart as she thinks 
               she is.

     She smiles and pretends to kink Lindsey's air-hose.

     ACROSS THE CHAMBER, Hippy scowls as Little Geek's screen 
     starts to go haywire with interference.

               Hey, Lindsey, you reading me?  Over.

126   EXT. DEEPCORE/TRIMODULE                                     126   

     Catfish is working on one side of the wrecked module while 
     Lindsey is on the other, out of sight.  She is standing on 
     the bottom at the base of the wreckage, checking valves on a 
     rack of oxygen bottles amongst the wreckage.

     Right at the edge of the canyon wall.  Behind her is a sheer 
     drop to nothingness

               Yeah, Hippy, I read you.  What's the 

     The reply is GARBLED by a wash of static.  Then, for no 
     apparent reason, Lindsey's helmet light begins to dim out.  
     Little Geek's lights fade.  His motors whine to a stop.

     ON CATFISH, as his lights drop to candleglows.

127   INT. SUB BAY                                                127   

     The emergency lights are dimming, like a brownout.  Bud grabs 
     the diver intercom mike.

               Lins, how're you doing?  Lindsey?

128   EXT. TRIMODULE                                              128   

     ON LINDSEY, as she fiddles with her lights and transceiver 

               Catfish... I got a problem here.  
               You there?  Catfish?

     Behind her, SOMETHING rises from the depths.

     It is the little vehicle she almost collided with at the 
     Montana wreck.


                                                            p. 65

     It comes right up behind her.  She doesn't know it's there.  
     It hovers sideways like a hummingbird, as if curious, trying 
     to get a better look.  She becomes aware of the pulsing glow 
     on the ground around her.  She turns slowly.  We see her 
     react as the glowing, pulsing apparition is reflected in her 

     A more powerful glow washes up onto her from below.  Her 
     eyes go down.  She gasps, absolutely stunned...

     Above the edge of the wall, AN ENORMOUS SHAPE RISES SILENTLY 
     OUT OF THE DEPTHS.  Over sixty feet across.  It looks like a 
     blown glass manta ray, its transparent outer hull housing 
     interior structures of great delicacy and complexity, pulsing 
     with a blue-violet glow.

     Lindsey stand before it, unable to move.  Absolutely rapt.

     Captivated by its ethereal beauty.  It begins to turn, 
     majestically, one rounded wing passing only a few feet above 
     her.  She reaches up.  Touches it as it passes over her.

     Lindsey is without fear, completely mesmerized.

     The thing completes its turn and dives gracefully down along 
     the wall.  She is gently lifted by a backwash of turbulent 

     About that time, Lindsey remembers she has a still camera, a 
     little Nikonos.

     She fumbles to set focus and exposure with her bulky gloves 
     as the beautiful machine glides into the depths.  Gets all 
     set for a shot and...

     WOOSH!  The little 'scoutschip' whizzes past her from behind, 
     startling her.

     She completely misses the shot of the 'manta ship'.  She 
     pivots, trying to get a shot of the little one as it zig-
     zags down along the wall, fast as a meteor.  CLICK.  She get 
     a shot a second before it disappears.

     From around the flank of the rig module, Catfish appears.  
     Their com-sets come backs to life, along with their lights.

                           LINDSEY (CONT'D)
               You better not say you missed that.

               Missed what?

                                                          CUT TO:


                                                            p. 66

129   INT. DEEPCORE/MESS HALL                                     129   

     TIGHT ON SLIDE STRIP.  Lindsey's fingertip in for scale.  
     The shot is black with a little squiggle of light in the 
     center.  Pathetic.

               Nice shot, Lins.

               What is that?  You drop your dive 

     WIDER, SHOWING THE GROUP huddled around Lindsey who has her 
     freshly-processed slide roll laid out on the pinball machine, 
     using it as a light table.

               Come on, you guys... look, this is 
               the little one right here.  You can 
               see how it's kind of zigging around.

               If you say so.  It could be anything.

               I'm telling you what is there.  You're 
               just not hearing.  The impulses 
               somehow aren't getting from you ears 
               to your brainpan.  There's something 
               down there.  Something not... us.

     She looks around.  Sees a lot of skepticism in the eyes around 

               Y'all could be more specific.

               Not us.  Not human.  Get it?  
               Something non-human, but 

               You mean like Coffey?

     Lindsey is reddening.  Despite her conviction, this is really 

               A non-terrestrial intelligence.


                                                            p. 67

               Non-Terrestrial Intelligence.  NTIs.  
               Yeah, I like that better then UFOs.  
               Although that works too... Underwater 
               Flying Objects.

     Hippy is not really mocking her.  He's actually into it.  
     But it has that effect.  Catfish is eyeing Lindsey like he's 
     never seen her before.

               Are we talkin' little space friend 

               Right on!  Hot rods of the Gods.  
               Right, Lins?  Hey, no really!  It 
               could be NTIs.  The CIA has known 
               about them for years.  They abduct 
               people all the time.  There was this 
               woman I knew in Albuquerque who--

               Hippy, do me a favor... stay off my 

     Bud takes her firmly by the arm.  Heads her out into the 

               Lindsey, will you step into my office 
               for a minute...

130   INT. CORRIDOR/LADDER WELL                                   130   

     He propels her along the corridor, away from the mess hall 
     doorway.  They face each other in the narrow space.

               Jesus, Lindsey--

               Bud, something really important is 
               happening here.

               Look.  I'm just trying to hold this 
               situation together.  I can't allow 
               you to cause this kind of hysteria--

               Who's hysterical?  Nobody's 


                                                            p. 68

     They're talking across each other, not connecting.  Bud weary 
     and frustrated.

     Lindsey is cranked up with the afterglow of her encounter.

               All I'm saying is when you're hanging 
               on by your fingernails, you don't go 
               waving you arms around.

               I saw something!  I'm not going to 
               go back there and say I didn't see 
               it when I did.  I'm sorry.

               God, you are the most stubborn woman 
               I ever knew.

               I need you to believe me, Bud.  Look 
               at me.  Do I seem stressed out?  Any 
               of the symptoms of pressure sickness, 
               any tremors, slurred speech?


               Bud, this is me, Lindsey.  Okay?  
               You know me better than anybody in 
               the world.  Now watch my lips... I 
               saw these things.  I touched one of 
               them.  And it wasn't some clunky 
               steel can like we would build... it 
               glided.  It was the most beautiful 
               thing I've ever seen.

     Bud is stilled by her intensity.  She moves close to him.  
     Eyes alive and luminous.

                           LINDSEY (CONT'D)
               It was a machine, but it seems almost 
               alive.  Like a... dance of light.  
               Bud, you have to trust me... please.  
               I don't think they mean us harm.  I 
               don't know how I know that, it's 
               just a feeling.

               How can I go on a feeling?  You think 
               Coffey's going to go on you 'feeling'?


                                                            p. 69

               We all see what we want to see... 
               Coffey looks and he sees Russians, 
               he sees hate and fear.  Bud, you 
               have to look with better eyes than 

     Bud has been taking this all in.  His eyes tracking her face.  
     He closes his eyes, taking a deep breath.  It's so hard for 
     him to do this, but...

               I can't, Lindsey.  I'm sorry.  How 
               can I?

                                                          CUT TO:

131   INT. MESS HALL -- LATER                                     131   

     Coffey has Bud, Lindsey and several of the rig crew gathered 
     for a little summit.  Lindsey is withdrawn, sitting far from 
     the others, a self-imposed exile.  They're all wearing warm 
     clothes and hugging themselves.  Their breath shows in the 

               I want 'round-the-clock manning of 
               the sonar shack and the exterior 
               cameras.  We need early warning if 
               the Soviet craft try another 

                    (rolling her eyes)
               Gimme a break!  Coffey, these things 
               live three and a half miles down on 
               the bottom of an abyssal trench!  
               Trust me... they're not speaking 

     Coffey looks at her for a moment, then goes on as if she 
     hadn't spoken.

                    (to One Night)
               Why haven't you finished repairs on 
               the hydrophone transmitter yet?

                           ONE NIGHT
               I was having my nails done.

     Coffey is sweating, despite the chill.  Keeps his hands 
     clenched in fists so they won't see how bad the tremors have 


                                                            p. 70

               Get something straight.  You people 
               are under my authority--

               Look, podner... we don't work for 
               you, we don't take orders from you, 
               and we don't much like you.  In 
               addition to which your momma dresses 
               you funny.

     Coffey's eyes are straight razors.  He slashes them from 
     face to face.  You can see him tightening up like a 
     clockspring, losing control of the situation in front of his 
     own men.  Bud defuses it.



               Take the first watch in sonar.  Hippy, 
               you handle the exterior surveillance.  
               One Night, see if you can get that 
               transmitter working for me, okay?

                           ONE NIGHT
               Gimme a couple of hours.

     HOLD ON COFFEY as everyone leaves.  Winding tighter.

                                                          CUT TO:

132   INT. MAINTENANCE ROOM B -- LATER                            132   

     Coffey and Schoenick are bending over the warhead.  They 
     have a small port removed and are attaching waterproof leads 
     from an ELECTRONIC DETONATOR.  The black box Lindsey glimpsed 
     earlier.  As the two SEALs work like surgeons, we see past 
     Coffey's shoulder to a hemispherical window behind him, which 
     looks out into the perpetual blackness.  Something appears... 
     a goofy shark face.

     Big Geek rises silently in front of the port.  It moves a 
     little, trying to get a peek over Coffey's shoulder.

133   INT. CONTROL MODULE/ROV SHACK                               133   

     Hippy is twiddling his joysticks, watching the screen like a 


                                                            p. 71

               Come on... move to the left... just 
               a little more... come on, A.J. Squared 
               Away... that's it--

     ON THE SCREEN, Geek's POV.  Coffey is blocking Hippy's view 
     of whatever it is they're working on.  Abruptly, be moves.  
     The warhead is lying there in plain sight, detonator wires 
     hooked up.  Hippy's eyes bug out.  He knows exactly what it 

                           HIPPY (CONT'D)
               Pretty radical, guys.  Pretty radical.

     He hurries to the VCR and puts it into RECORD.

134   INT. CONTROL MODULE/ROV SHACK -- MINUTES LATER              134   

     Video image of the SEALs working.  It FREEZES on a clear 
     view of the warhead.

                           HIPPY (V.O.)
               Say hello to MIRV.

     Bud has his face right up to screen.  He frowns, skeptical.

                           HIPPY (CONT'D)
               Come on, man.  What else could it 

               Why bring it here?

               It's gotta be, like, an emergency 
               plan to keep it away from the 
               Russians... Hotwire one of the nukes 
               with some kinda detonator, put it 
               back in the sub, and fry the whole 
               thing, slicker'n snot.  Oh, uh... 
               hi, Lins.

     Bud whips around.  Lindsey, standing quietly in the doorway.  
     It's apparent from expression she's been watching them for 
     some time.  She looks ready to kill somebody.  Then she's 

135   INT. CORRIDOR                                               135   

     Bud catches up to her in the corridor, trying to put the 
     brakes on her.


                                                            p. 72

               Look, goddamnit, if you won't do 
               something about it, I will.

               Lindsey!  Wait a second--

     She reaches the watertight door to Maintenance Room B.  It's 
     locked.  Before Bud can stop her she grabs a fire-extinguisher 
     off the wall and pounds on the steel door like a big gong.  
     BOOM!  BOOM!  BOOM!

     Needless to say, it opens.  She pushes past Schoenick, see 
     the bomb lying there naked.

               You've got some huevos bringing 
               this...  thing... into my rig!  With 
               everything that's been going on up 
               in the world, you bring a nuclear 
               weapon in here?  Does this strike 
               anyone as particularly psychotic, or 
               is it just me?

               You don't need to know the details 
               of this mission... you're better off 
               if you don't.

               You're right... I don't.  I just 
               need to know that this thing is out 
               of here!  You hear me, Roger Ramjet?

               Mrs. Brigman, you're becoming a 
               serious impediment to this mission.  
               I believe the stress is affecting 
                    (to Schoenick)
               Escort her to quarters and have Monk 
               prepare a tranquilizer.

     Schoenick takes her arm in a tight grip.

               Bullshit, you can't do that.  Oww... 

     Lindsey goes bananas, trying to get Schoenick's big hands 
     off her arms.  Bud slams his hand down on the intercom button.


                                                            p. 73

               Emergency!  Maintenance room B.  

     He pulls the fire alarm for good measure and spins on 
     Coffey... warning him with a look that is not to be messed 
     with.  Coffey is braced back against the worktable... an odd 
     stance, with one arm behind his back.  Suddenly there's a 
     crowd outside the door as Catfish, Hippy, One Night, and 
     Sonny come running up.  Confrontation time.

     Sirens going.  About a million volts of electricity in the 
     air.  Bud braces Schoenick.

                           BUD (CONT'D)
               Let her go.  Do it... right now.

     He does.  Lindsey jerks away.  Rubs her arms.

               You dumb jarhead motherf--

               Chill out, Lindsey!!

               What's the problem?

     Everyone is frozen in place.  Bud a Coffey... snake and 
     mongoose, glaring.

     Bud pulls Lindsey back into the corridor.

               Nothing.  We were just leaving.
                    (to her)
               Weren't we?

     ANGLE FROM BEHIND COFFEY, as Bud's group moves out of sight 
     up the corridor.

     Hands behind his back.  In his hand, cocked, finger on the 
     trigger, is the .45.  He turns and sets it on the table, 
     steadying himself as if in the wind.  He seems to sag.  When 
     he looks at Schoenick, his eyes are wounds.  A hunted animal.  
     Voice shaky.

               They can't be trusted.  They're 
               turning against us.  We may have to 
               take... steps.


                                                            p. 74

136   INT. CORRIDOR                                               136   

     Lindsey, Bud, Hippy.  Bud slows, letting them trail behind 
     the others.

               Lins, stay away from that guy.  I 
               mean it.

               Yeah.  The dude's in bad shape... 
               you see his hands?

               He's got the shakes?

               Look, the guy's operating on his 
               own, cut off from chain of command.  
               He's exhibiting symptoms of pressure-
               induced psychosis.  And he's got a 
               nuclear weapon.  So, as a personal 
               favor to me...  will you put your 
               tongue in neutral for a while?

               Man, I give this a sphincter-factor 
               of about nine point five.

137   INT. MAINTENANCE ROOM                                       137   

     Coffey goes to the dome port.  Looks past his shrunken and 
     twisted reflection into the void.  Eternal night.

     ANGLE FROM OUTSIDE.  Coffey's face in the window.  Stuck to 
     the acrylic bubble beside him is one of those Garfields, 
     suction cups on its paws.  Coffey stares out.  Behind his 
     eyes, his brain is like that cat, just hanging on, spreadeagle 
     and screaming.

                                                          CUT TO:

138   INT. SUB-BAY/DIVE-PREP AREA                                 138   

     Under a single worklight, a couple of conspirators.  Lindsey 
     and Hippy hunch over Big Geek.  The ROV grins maniacally 
     with goofy shark teeth.

               Look, you can just punch into his 
               little chip where you want him to 
               go, and he goes, right?


                                                            p. 75

               Well, yeah, but the tether off it 
               ain't gonna be fancy.  When he gets 
               down there he'll just sit, like a 
               dumb-shit.  Unless something wanders 
               through view of the camera, you'll 
               get nada.

               Let's go for it.  We could get lucky.

139   INT. CONTROL MODULE                                         139   

     ONE SURVEILLANCE MONITOR.  Lindsey and Hippy next to Big 
     Geek.  Their voices are tinny but intelligible.

                           HIPPY (V.O.)
               I don't know.  I really oughta talk 
               to Bud about this.

     E.C.U. COFFEY.  Watching them in the dark.  Alone.

                           LINDSEY (V.O.)
               No.  Just you and me.  We get some 
               proof, then tell them.  Hippy, look... 
               if was can prove to Coffey it's not 
               Russians, maybe he'll ease off the 
               button a little.

                           HIPPY (V.O.)
               I gotta tell you, that guy scares me 
               a lot more than whatever's down there.  
               A.J. Squared Away goddamn jarhead 
               robot.  Okay, gimme a couple hours 
               on this.

     Coffey watches, his jaw clenched.

140   INT. QUARTERS/MESS HALL                                     140   

     The lights are down.  Those who can are grabbing some sleep.  
     Snoring comes from one of the bunkrooms as Lindsey passes.  
     In the mess hall, Catfish and Bud are crashed out on the 
     tables, wrapped in blankets.  The cold has gotten intense.  
     Water drips.  The walls sweat with condensation.  Lindsey 
     can see her breath as she makes coffee.  She carries a cup 
     over to Monk, who is a face in a pile of blankets.  A hand 
     comes out, takes the coffee.


     Lindsey sips hers, staring.  Her thoughts are far away... in 
     the bottomless pit.


                                                            p. 76

     She is leaning up against the table where Bud is sleeping.  
     His soft snoring downshifts into a loud rasp.  Lindsey touches 
     him gently on the shoulder.

               Virgil, turn on your side.

     Bud grunts and turns without waking, an automatic response.  
     The snoring stops.  It is a quiet, intimate moment, a reminder 
     of the mileage these two have logged together.

                                                          CUT TO:

141   INT. SONAR SHACK                                            141   

     Sonny has made himself comfortable in front of the screens.  
     Too comfortable.

     He's asleep, chin on his chest.  On the main passive-sonar 
     screen, an almost imperceptibly faint trace appears.  A HUM, 
     which is by now familiar, becomes audible.  Sonny shifts in 
     his seat.  Doesn't wake.

142   INT. SUB BAY                                                142   

     Hippy puts his tools away, finished with the modifications 
     to Big Geek.

               All set, big guy.  Hey, I told you 
               to wipe that grin off your face.

     He yawns as he shambles across the chamber to the corridor 
     door.  Switches off the lights.  Goes out.

     Quiet lapping of water in the moonpool.  A beat.  Then...

     A cold luminosity suffuses the water beneath the moonpool 
     opening, sending shadows shifting across the top of the 
     chamber.  The surface begins to pulsate.

     Suddenly, the water itself rises, forming itself into a 
     shifting, shimmering pseudopod as big around as a man's body.  
     The transparent form pulses... an amoebic mass shivering in 
     the air.

     It stretches, becoming a more refined form.  Like a blindly 
     probing glass python, it elongates and weaves across the 
     room.  It extends and extends, stretching out from the 
     moonpool, a shimmering tentacle.  The 'head' or tip, a 
     featureless liquid bulb, seems somehow to be scanning as it 
     moves forward, as if it can see where it's going.


                                                            p. 77

143   INT. CORRIDOR                                               143   

     Hippy trudges along the dark corridor.  He reaches the men's 
     head and goes in.

     As the door closes, the tip of the liquid pseudopod extends 
     into the corridor B.G.  It 'looks' left and right.  Then 
     extends the length of the corridor, holding itself a couple 
     feet off the floor like a weightless snake.


     LOOKING DOWN three levels through the central ladderwell 
     between the cylinders.  The pseudopod enters and undulates 

     FROM INSIDE THE MAKESHIFT BUNKROOM, we see its tip extend 

     Sonny and One Night are snoring, oblivious.  Jammer is still 
     unconscious.  The pseudopod, taking its time, checks them 
     out and then moves on.

     IN THE MESS HALL, it's dark and quiet.  Lindsey has even 
     fallen asleep in her chair, her head buried in her arms on 
     the table.  The shimmering tentacle enters the room in total 
     silence.  It sways gracefully in to air, searching.

     It undulates across the room, hanging about five feet in the 
     air, surveying everything.  It moves past Lindsey.  Sensing 
     something, she lifts her head, turning... sees the apparition 
     next to her.

     Her eyes go wide.  Amazement, but not fear.  The tentacle is 
     moving on, still searching.  Lindsey shakes Bud awake, 
     clapping her hand over his mouth.

     Bud blinks twice, then freezes.  When she lowers her hand 
     his mouth is hanging open like a total goon.

     Bud chucks his pillow are Catfish, on the next table.

     Catfish cracks one eye open.  Turns away.  Turns right back... 
     both eyes open now.  Sensing movement, the thing turn back 
     toward them.  It seems to recognize Lindsey.  It doubles 
     back on itself in a loop and comes right up to her.  She 
     holds her ground, fascinated.

     The bulbous tip forms suddenly into a human face... her face.  
     It is water, still clear and undulating... but definitely 
     Lindsey.  She gasps in surprise.

     The liquid-Lindsey gasps soundlessly... a perfect mimic of 
     her expression.


                                                            p. 78

     Lindsey laughs involuntarily.  It laughs... without sound.  
     Lindsey makes a face, sticking out her tongue... testing it.

     The liquid-Lindsey does the same.  Bud has just had the rug 
     jerked out from under his sense of what is possible and what 
     isn't, but he's taking it pretty will, considering.

               I think it likes you.

               It's trying to communicate.

     Her liquid face suddenly transforms into a likeness of Bud's.

     She reaches out her hand slowly.  Gingerly, her fingers touch 
     the surface.

     Ripples extend outward from the contact, across Bud's 

     Her fingertips break effortlessly through the surface, just 
     like she's dipping her hand into a bowl of water, except 
     sideways.  She draws her wet fingers out and studies them, 
     amazed.  Touches one fingertip to her tongue.

                           LINDSEY (CONT'D)

     The pseudopod pulls back from her.  It loops in the air 
     dramatically, full circle... and ties itself into a knot.  
     As the knot tightens down, it melts back into the body.  The 
     'disappearing knot' trick.

     Lindsey laughs, grinning with the open wonder and delight of 
     a child at a magic show.  She is transported.

                           LINDSEY (CONT'D)
               Show off.

     She looks at Bud.  He grins broadly.  He's with her now.

     The stunned group watches as the thing moves on across the 
     room.  Out to the corridor

145   INT. SUB-BAY                                                145   

     Coffey and Schoenick enter the back way, through the dive-
     prep area.  They see the pseudopod arching from the moonpool 
     big as a treetrunk.  Coffey's mind is blown.  We can smell 
     the insulation burning.  He just stares.


                                                            p. 79

146   INT. CORRIDOR/MAINTENANCE ROOM                              146   

     The water tentacle enters and moves toward the hot-wired 
     warhead.  It studies the device for a few seconds.  Bud and 
     Lindsey enter through a side door, in time to see the tentacle 
     divide into four tendrils which wrap around the warhead.  
     They begin to lift it off its cart.

147   INT. SUB BAY                                                147   

     Coffey finally jump-starts his brain.  In a flash of insight, 
     he runs to the big sliding door through which the pseudopod 
     stretches into the corridor.  He and Schoenick heave on the 
     door.  Like a guillotine blade it slices effortlessly through 

     MAINTENANCE... as the body of the pseudopod collapses, 
     splashing on the floor.  It reverts to nothing more than a 
     long puddle of simple seawater.  As the tendrils dissolve, 
     the warhead slams back down onto the cart, unharmed.  ON 
     COFFEY'S SIDE ON THE DOOR, however, the "stump" rears back 
     like a cobra.  It withdraws rapidly into the moonpool.  The 
     glow fades away.

148   INT. SONAR SHACK                                            148   

     Sonny wakes up with a start as the HUM revs up into a LOUD 
     WHINE and then fades away.  He scrambles to track it.  Too 

149   INT. CORRIDOR                                               149   

     Hippy emerges from the can and looks down, puzzled, at the 
     puddle running the length of the corridor.  He missed the 
     whole thing.

150   INT. MESS HALL                                              150   

     Light on.  Everybody there.  Lindsey is really strutting, 
     high on life, now that she's been proven right.

               Okay, raise your hand if you think 
               that was a Russian water-tentacle.  
               Lieutenant?  No?  Well, a 

     Coffey is looking out from under his eyebrows like Nicholson 
     in "The Shining".

     Bud give her a warning look.  Don't poke at the rattler.


                                                            p. 80

               You done impressing yourself, ace?

                           ONE NIGHT
               No way that could just be seawater.

               They must've learned how to control 
               water... I mean at a molecular level.  
               They can plasticize it, polymerize 
               it... whatever.  Put it under 
               intelligent control.

               Maybe their whole technology is based 
               on that.  Controlling water.

     Coffey is hunched over, elbows on his knees.  His hands are 
     out of sight.  His arm is moving in a slow rhythm.  We can't 
     see what he's doing.

               That thing was probably their version 
               of Big Geek... like an ROV.

               Just checking is out, huh?  How come?

     ANGLE UNDER THE TABLE, showing what Coffey is doing.  He has 
     his K-BAR KNIFE gripped white-knuckle in one hand.  He is 
     drawing it slowly and repeatedly across the skin of the other 
     forearm.  Neat chevrons of blood from wrist to elbow.

     C.U. COFFEY -- He doesn't flinch.  His eyes are hard and 
     bright as diamond rills.  No one notices.  He's keeping the 

               They're curious, maybe.  We could be 
               the first people they've seen up 

               Hope they don't judge the whole race 
               offa us.

               Maybe I oughta shave.

     Coffey stands abruptly, snags Schoenick with his eyes, and 
     leaves, walking through the group as if they were smoke.  
     This cold behavior brings the mood own a notch.


                                                            p. 81

151   INT. CORRIDOR/MAINTENANCE ROOM                              151   

     Outside the mess hall, Coffey pauses, listening to the 
     conversation resume.

     Bright speculation, a few jokes.  Coffey is visible shaking.  
     Breathing hard.

     Pupils dilated.  Schoenick looks at him with concern.

               It went straight for the warhead.  
               And they think it's cute.

               You need to get some sleep.

     Coffey walks away without hearing him.  Schoenick catches 

152   INT. MAINTENANCE                                            152   

     The door opens in the dark room.  Coffey enters, moving with 
     purpose.  He pulls his gear bag out from under the work table.  
     Unzips it.  Pulls out a short-barreled CAR-15 assault rifle.

               We have no way of warning the surface.  
               Do you know what that means?

     Schoenick doesn't know.  He hopes Coffey knows.  Because 
     he's a fearless man who's discovering what it is to be afraid.  
     Coffey inserts the magazine with

     a CLACK!  Snaps the bolt.  Tosses the rifle to Schoenick.

                           COFFEY (CONT'D)
               It means... whatever happens is up 
               to us.

                                                          CUT TO:

153   INT. CORRIDOR/MAINTENANCE -- LATER                          153   

     Hippy passes the maintenance room.  Looks in.  The warhead 
     and its cart are missing.  He looks around.  Heads toward 
     the sub-bay.

154   INT. MESS HALL                                              154   

     The discussion, still in progress.


                                                            p. 82

                           ONE NIGHT
               You think they're from down there 
               originally?  Or from... you know.

     She jerks her thumb toward the ceiling.

               I think they're from 'you know'.  
               Some place that has similar 
               conditions... cold, intense pressure.  
               No light.

               Happy as hogs in a waller down there, 

155   INT. CORRIDOR/SUB BAY                                       155   

     Hippy freezes in the corridor as he hears a loud ratcheting 
     sound echoing from the sub-bay.  He edges forward slowly, 
     trying to keep his feet silent on the steel floor.  Slides 
     up along the wall next to the door.  Inches his eye around 
     the doorframe.  Across the room. Schoenick is working with a 
     chainfall, lowering Big Geek onto the MIRV warhead, which is 
     still on its cart.  He begins to attach them together with a 
     sling of tie-down straps.

     Hippy lets his breath out slowly.  His expression is Holy 

     He slides back along the corridor wall, silently.  Away from 
     the door.  Then turn turns quickly to go... WHAM!  Coffey 
     slams him up against the wall!  .45 pressed to Hippy's temple.  
     Hippy gulping air as Coffey ears back the hammer.

               Sniff something did you, rat boy?

156   INT. MESS HALL                                              156   

     The meeting is breaking up as the door CLANGS open and Hippy 
     is thrusted inside.  His hands are taped behind his back and 
     he stumbles onto his face.

     Coffey steps through smoothly, straight-arming the .45.  
     Schoenick flanks him with the assault rifle aimed at the 

               FREEZE!  Don't move.  That's it.
                    (to Monk)
               Here, hold this a second.  We're 
               going to phase three.


                                                            p. 83

     He hands his gun to Monk, with the assumption of absolute 
     loyalty from a team member.  Monk's eyes move between Coffey 
     and the pistol.  We can't tell what he's thinking.  Coffey 
     grabs Hippy and shoves him onto a chair.

               They're using Big Geek to take the 
               bomb to the NTIs!  We set it up to 
               go right to them.

     Lindsey looks stricken.  Her plan is betraying them all.

               Oh my God...  Oh no...
                    (steps toward Coffey)
               Please, you can't.  Coffey, think 
               about what you're doing... for God's 

     Coffey lets her approach him, his eyes glittering.

     Without warning he grabs her by the hair and hurls her against 
     the Coke machine, pinning her there with one hand.  Bud leaps 

               GET BACK!

     Bud freezes.  The rifle's muzzle is aimed for a heart-shot.

     Coffey moves up close to Lindsey.

               This is something I've wanted to do 
               since I first met you.

     His hand reaches down, OUT OF FRAME.  We hear something RIP.  
     His hand comes back up... holding a piece of gaffer's tape.

     He slaps it over her mouth.  Then pushes her down into a 

     Hippy looks at Monk and Schoenick.

               Your boss is having a full-on 
               meltdown.  Guy's fixing to pull the 
               pin on fifty kilotons and we're all 

               What's the timer set for?


                                                            p. 84

               Three hours.

               Shut up!  Don't talk!

               We can't get to minimum-safe-distance 
               in three hours.  The shockwave will 
               kill us.  It'll crush this rig like 
               a semi driving over a beer can.

               Shut up!  SHUT UP!  What's the matter 
               with you?!

     Everybody is twitching a hyper.  Schoenick is white-knuckling 
     his assault rifle... looking from Monk to Coffey to the group.

                           COFFEY (CONT'D)
               Just stay calm.  The situation is 
               under control.

     Coffey backs out quickly with Schoenick.

157   INT. CORRIDOR                                               157   

     Coffey dogs down the watertight door and wedges a piece of 
     steel pipe into the mechanism so it can't be opened.

               Stay here.

     Schoenick take a position in front of the door.  Coffey turns 
     and runs through the corridor like demons are chasing him.

158   INT. MESS HALL                                              158   

     Their only hope is to sway Schoenick.  But the SEAL's fear 
     is making him the perfect machine, totally dependent on 
     external orders.  And his orders are clear.  They can see 
     him through the tiny window in the door.  Lindsey rips the 
     tape painfully off her mouth.

               Schoenick... your Lieutenant is about 
               to make a real bad career move...

               That guy's crazier'n a shithouse 

               We have to stop him!  Schoenick!!


                                                            p. 85

     They pound on the door.  Schoenick turns and hangs his cap 
     over the tiny window.

159   INT. SUB BAY                                                159   

     Using the chainfall, Coffey maneuvers the completed Geek/MIRV 
     package over the back of Flatbed, obviously preparing to use 
     the submersible to take it out and launch it.

160   INT. MESS HALL                                              160   

     Lindsey is up next to the door, with Bud.

               ... he's about to declare war on an 
               alien species, Schoenick, just when 
               they're trying to make contact with 
                    (to Bud)
               I think I'm reaching him.

     There is a CLUNK-CLATTER and the door unlatches.

                           LINDSEY (CONT'D)

     The door opens.  Jammer is standing there.  Schoenick is in 
     a heap against the far wall, moaning.  Jammer hands the rifle 
     to Hippy as he walks in.  Hippy turns to cover the other 
     SEAL.  Monk puts his hands up, passively.

               I'm the least of your problems.

     Bud appraises Jammer, who seems a little weak and dazed but 
     basically okay.

               Thanks.  How you feeling, big guy?

               Figured I was dead, there, when I 
               seen that angel comin' toward me.

     They all look at him for a second.  What?

               Uh, okay, right.  You can tell us 
               about it later.  Let's go.

                                                          CUT TO:


                                                            p. 86

161   INT. TRIMODULE C/LADDERWELL                                 161   

     Bud drops down the ladder, INTO FRAME, followed by the others.  
     He tries the door into the main corridor.  The wheel won't 
     turn.  The others get on it.  Won't budge.

               He's jammed the mechanism.

               Now what?

     They're locked in trimodule-C.  No other doors give access 
     to the sub-bay corridor.  Bud's mind is racing.  He drops 
     down the ladder to Level One, into about two feet of water.  
     He reaches down and open the emergency lockout hatch.  Takes 
     off his boots.

               Okay, I'm gonna free-swim to hatch 
               six... get inside, get the door open 
               from the other side.

               Bud, that water's only a couple 
               degrees above freezing.

               Then I guess you better wish me luck, 

     Catfish is pulling his boots off as well.

               Wish us luck.
                    (hands his wallet to 
               'Case I don't die.  Okay, Bud... 
               let's go, podner, I ain't got all 

     Bud clasps him on the shoulder and starts hyperventilating.  
     He drops into the water.

162   EXT. DEEPCORE/TRIMODULE                                     162   

     Bed shoots down through the hatch.  The cold hits him list a 
     fist, becoming instantly paralyzing.  He starts kicking in 
     powerful strokes through the dark water, maneuvering around 
     tangles of umbilical cable twisted tubular steel.

     Catfish is behind him, swimming like hell.  They reach hatch 
     six.  Together they spin the wheel and heave upward, opening 


                                                            p. 87

163   INT.  TRIMODULE D/LEVEL ONE                                 163   

     Bud surges up into the lock.  Catfish jams into the tiny 
     airspace with him.

     They try the upper hatch.  Jammed.  They're both panting 
     with the exertion and intense cold.

               Hafta... go on to... the moonpool.  
               Only way.

               I can't... make it... podner.

     Bud looks at Catfish, shivering and heaving, wide-eyed.

               Okay, Cat.  You head back.

     Bud hyperventilates rapidly and pikes over diving back out 
     through the hatch.

164   EXT. DEEPCORE                                               164   

     Bud is stroking rapidly through the tangle of pipes and 
     conduit.  He sees the lit rectangle of the moonpool far ahead.

165   INT. SUB BAY                                                165   

     In the moonpool, Bud surface with an explosive gasp beside 
     the Flatbed.  His wracked breathing is masked by the WHINE 
     of HYDRAULICS as Coffey uses the external controls to extend 
     Flatbed's big hydraulic arm, locking the Geek/MIRV in its 

     Bud strokes to a point where Coffey can't see him and heaves 
     up out of the water onto the deck of the pool.  He lies 
     gasping behind Cab One's cradle.

     His limbs are wooden and unresponsive from the cold.  His 
     fingers are completely numb.  He hugs himself, putting his 
     hands under his armpits.

     Scans the situation.  He can't get to the door, which is 
     across the room, without Coffey seeing him.

166   INT. CONTROL MODULE                                         166   

     Lindsey watching the whole thing going down, ON THE SCREEN, 
     a high angle of the sub bay... Bud moving up on Coffey.


                                                            p. 88

               He can't get to the door... I think 
               he's going to try and take him 

               He couldn't be that dumb.  The guy's 
               a trained killer.  Bud's idea of a 
               fight is arm-wrestling One Night 
               over laundry duty.

     ON THE SCREEN, Bud picks up a piece of pipe.  Hefts it.  
     Moves forward, crouched... stalking.  Lindsey yells at the 
     screen in frustration.

                           LINDSEY (CONT'D)

167   INT. SUB BAY                                                167   

     Bud chucks a tool across the chamber, creating a clattering 
     distraction, then wades in with the pipe in a vicious swing 
     to the back of Coffey's knees, taking him down.  Coffey spins 
     even as he falls, catching Bud in a scissor kick that topples 

     Grappling, they fall together into the freezing water.  Coffey 
     is momentarily stunned by the cold, giving Bud time to haul 
     himself out, hoping to make it to the door.

     Coffey launches from the water and grabs him legs.

     He pulls himself up as Bud kick out.  Claws his way viciously 
     over Bud's body until he has him pinned to the deck.  Then 
     he pulls out the .45.

     Put it unceremoniously to Bud's forehead.

168   INT. CONTROL MODULE                                         168   


169   INT. SUB BAY                                                169   

     Coffey pulls the trigger... CLICK.  Bud flinches, then opens 
     his eyes, staring cross-eyed at the muzzle of the .45.  Coffey 
     cocks it and tries again.  CLICK.  Nothing.  Really pissed 
     off beyond description, Bud hurls the commando off him with 
     a powerful heave, sending him clattering against a rack of 
     equipment.  They face off, panting.


                                                            p. 89

170   INT. CONTROL MODULE                                         170   

     The rig crew turns from the screen at the sound of Monk's 

               I tool the liberty of removing this 
               before I gave it back to him.

     Monk pulls his hand out from under his blanket and holds up 
     the magazine from the .45.

171   INT. SUB WAY                                                171   

     Even so Bud is getting his ass kicked.  Coffey's really trying 
     to put him out of business.  It's mostly duck and dodges on 
     Bud's part.  Throw a few things.

     When Coffey connects, Bud goes down hard.  Give him credit, 
     though.  He manages to scramble back up.

     The fight wrecks the room, scattering tools and gear.

     Compressed air cylinders roll dangerously around the floor.

     Coffey slips on one and Buds get in a couple of good licks.

     Slams the SEAL's head in an equipment locker door.

     But the Navy man is just too massive.  Bud is hammered back 
     into a wall.

     Coffey has his fist cocked back for the coup de grace.  Spins 
     around at the sound of a VOICE.


     Catfish is right behind him.  Dripping wet.  A trail of water 
     goes back to the moonpool a few feet away.

     CRACK!  Catfish's 'Hammer' punch comes in so hard and so 
     fast, Coffey is knocked right on his ass.  He doesn't get 
     up.  Just sort of flops around.

     Catfish helps Bud to his feet.  They advance on Coffey, who 
     crab-scuttles sideways, his eyes rabid.

     He picks up a helium tank and hurls it at them.  As they 
     duck he sprints to Flatbed and drops through the hatch and 
     slams it down.


                                                            p. 90

                    (to Catfish)
               Get the door!

     Bud leaps across the water to land on Flatbed.  The hatch is 
     already sealed.

     He grapples with Geek/MIRV, trying to free it from the steel 

172   INT. FLATBED                                                172   

     Coffey crawls along the access tunnel to the pilot's 
     compartment.  He claws his way into the control seat and 
     starts rapidly flipping switches.

173   INT. CORRIDOR                                               173   

     Catfish pounds down the corridor like he's never run before, 
     his beer gut doing a rumba.  He reaches the door, tears out 
     the piece of pipe and spins the wheel.  Hippy pushes it open 
     so fast it hits Catfish in the stomach.

     Hippy tears past him, running with the assault rifle.  John 

174   INT. SUB-BAY                                                174   

     Flatbed is submerging, with only the hatch tower still above 
     the water.  Bud is being dragged down, still trying to free 
     the ROV.  He gives up when he sees Hippy run in, waving the 
     assault rifle around like a 130-pound Rambo.

     Bud climbs the hatch tower and leaps to the deck of the 

     Hippy clumsily raises the unfamiliar rifle at Coffey, visible 
     inside his viewing bubble beneath the swirling water.  Coffey 
     looks up, stares at the gun... doesn't seem to care.


     Hippy's squeezing the trigger and nothing's happening.  
     Flatbed's hatch tower goes under.

                           CATFISH (CONT'D)
               Safety's on!  On the side... the 
               lever!  Up, push it up!

     Hippy fumble with the selective-fire lever, BLAM-BLAM-BLAM!  
     He put three quick rounds into the ceiling.


                                                            p. 91


               Give me that!!

     He grabs it out of Hippy's hands and aims it at the sub.  He 
     racks the water with a long burst.  BENEATH THE SURFACE, the 
     rounds nip nasty contrails through the water.  They barely 
     scar the front port.

               Forget that... go for Big Geek!

     Catfish rakes the descending sub with more bursts, trying to 
     hit the shimmering shape of the ROV on its back.  UNDERWATER 
     we see the rounds arcing wild, a few hitting the ROV but 
     causing little damage.

     Coffey complete his descent to just above the seafloor.  
     ABOVE, Catfish empties the weapon.

               Gimme a hand!

     They all turn.  Bud is fumbling into his wetsuit like a 
     madman.  The others rush over to help him.

                           BUD (CONT'D)
               Get the rest of my gear.  Grab that 
               hat there...  let's go guys!  Come 
               on, come on!

     Catfish slams a backpack onto Bud's shoulders, grappling 
     with the straps and hose connections.  Hippy and Sonny (with 
     one hand) are clipping, zipping and buckling all over him.  
     This is a world-record suit-up time.  Bud pulls the rubber 
     neck-dam of the helmet's lower ring down over his face.

                           BUD (CONT'D)
               Helmet... helmet!  Work fast.

175   EXT. DEEPCORE UNDERSTRUCTURE                                175   

     Beneath the habitat, Coffey is maneuvering Flatbed through 
     the twisted pipe and debris left by Deepcore's slide to the 
     edge.  Bloodied, his fatigues ripped half-off, he looks like 
     a feral animal.  His eyes burn with the determination of his 

176   INT. SUB BAY                                                176   

     Jammer expertly works the crane controls, moving Cab One out 
     over the moonpool from its drydock cradle.


                                                            p. 92

     Lindsey and One Night are scrambling like monkeys over the 
     port side crash bars of the swinging sub, clambering up to 
     the hatch tower.

                           ONE NIGHT
               I'll unhook.
                    (Lindsey hesitates)
               GO!  You're better in these than I 

     Lindsey recognizes this for what it is... a sign of respect, 
     a reconciliation.  She nods and drops through the hatch.

177   EXT. DEEPCORE                                               177   

     Coffey passes under the twisted wreckage of the big automated 
     derrick and makes a tight turn beneath the drill-floor module.  
     Flatbed scrapes through between twisted conduit, metal 
     screeching on metal.

178   INT. SUB BAY                                                178   

     Bud has his 'hat' locked down and his air cut on.  He take 
     two quick strides to the edge of the pool and just drops in.

179   EXT. DEEPCORE                                               179   

     Bud rockets DOWN INTO FRAME in a column of bubbles.  He looks 
     around.  Through the lattice of conduit under the rig he can 
     see Flatbed moving forward from its exit point under the 
     stern.  Bud see a shortcut under the platform.

     He kicks along a lattice of pipes, heaving himself along in 
     frantic hand-over-hand stokes.  He reaches for Flatbed's 
     stern as it passes.

     Misses the last hand-hold... but just manages to seize a tie-
     down trailing behind it.  He is jerked along behind the sub.

     Bud holds on with both hands as he is buffeted in the wake 
     of the powerful thrusters.  Flatbed gathers speed, moving 
     out toward the edge of the abyssal wall.  The current slams 
     him, spinning him like a fishing lure.  He pulls himself 
     forward slowly until he can grip the stern rail of Flatbed's 

     LOW ANGLE, look up the wall.  Flatbed appears over the edge 
     and stops.


     ON THE BACK OF FLATBED.  Bud has the break he needs.  He 
     scrambles up onto the deck and opens an equipment locker.  
     Nothing in it but one of the yellow nylon safety lines.


                                                            p. 93

     The big arm begins to unfold, lifting Geek/ROV.

180   INT./EXT. FLATBED                                           180   

     Coffey works intently.  His eyes are the cool ice of lethal 
     madness in a face streaked with blood.  He brings the ROV 
     into view with the boom arm.

     GEEK/ROV has a passenger.  Brigman.  The diver is holding 
     Geek's skid with one hand, doing something with the other.  
     He turns to look at Coffey.

181   EXT. FLATBED/DEEPCORE                                       181   

     Coffey releases the ROV with the gripper and makes a grab at 
     Bud with the steel claw.  Bud dives.  The gripper hits his 
     helmet a glancing blow.  Bud kicks away rapidly, letting 
     nylon rope pay out.  We see he has managed to tie one end to 
     Geek's skids.  Coffey hits the button to activate the ROV, 
     sending an acoustic pulse to Geek's transponder.  The little 
     robot, pregnant with its load of death, turns nimbly around 
     and dives out and down toward the void.

     Coffey pivots his big machine toward Bud.  Bud strokes rapidly 
     to a large jumble of wreckage.  He loops the rope around a 
     twisted pipe.  Big Geek is hauling ass away from him.  The 
     line snap taut an instant later.  The ROV strains, like a 
     Rottweiler on a leash... trying to go.  The rope is slipping 
     as Bud fights to make a knot.

     Flatbed slews around, thrusters whining.  As it banks, it 
     hurls up clouds of sediment from the escarpment face.

     Through the front panel we see Coffey jerking on the controls.

     The big arm extends menacingly.  The smaller from manipulators 
     open.  An enormous predatory insect, its lights blaring.

     The big machine roars forward.  Straight at Bud.

     Bud gets his knot partly done.  See Flatbed looming.

     Glare-lit in its lights, Bud grabs a handhold and pulls 
     himself downward as Coffey closes the last few feet.

     One manipulator slams into his backpack, tumbling him, and 
     the sub's underside rakes across his legs as it passes over.  
     Flatbed crushes into the tangle of pipework.  K-CRUUUNCH!!

182   INT. FLATBED                                                182   

     Coffey is slammed hard over the controls, up into the front 
     dome port.  He gets back in the seat.  Strains to free his 


                                                            p. 94

183   EXT. DEEPCORE/BIG GEEK/FLATBED                              183   

     Bud swims clear, diving down at an angle along the wall, 
     hoping to stay in Coffey's blind area.  Flatbed backs out of 
     the wreckage in a cloud of debris.

     It pivots toward Bud.  Moves after him.

     Nearby, the ROV is whining mindlessly, trying to please.  
     Trying to GO.

     DETAIL OF ROPE attached to wreckage, as Bud's knot begins to 
     slip.  The nylon line starts to play through the knot slowly.

     BUD has gotten himself into a bad position.  Along the bare 
     rock face of the cliff wall he is naked, nailed in the 
     spotlights like a rabbit in front of a truck.  Coffey puts 
     the hammer down, thrust levers all the way forward.

     Flatbed surges forward, multi-limbed and demonic.  There's 
     no cover, side to side, up or down.

     Coffey has him head in his lights.  Suddenly a bright glare 
     blasts in, blinding Coffey.  He looks up to see Cab One 
     rushing down upon him, full throttle.

     At the last moment LIndsey slams the thrusters full-lock and 
     the submersible slews sideways, slamming its heavy skidplate 
     into Flatbed's cab.  Coffey is smashed sideways by the shock.  
     He fights to control his vehicle.  Lindsey looks up to see 
     Coffey's sub gun it up over the wall, out of sight.  She 
     cruises up over Bud.

                           LINDSEY (V.O.)
               Get in!

     Bud gets the lockout hatch open and clambers up into Cab 
     One's belly.

184   INT./EXT. CAB ONE                                           184   

     Bud flops over the lip of the hatch and slams it shut.  He 
     ditches his helmet.

     Lindsey raises her vehicle warily above the wall.  Through 
     the front port there is no sign of Coffey.

               You owe me one, Virgil.

               Can we negotiate later?  There's Big 


                                                            p. 95

     He points.  Through the front port, they can see the ROV 
     still straining at its leash.  Lindsey dives toward it, 
     simultaneously working the controls to open her own small 
     manipulator claws.

185   EXT. DEEPCORE/WALL, ETC.                                    185   

     The last few feet of the rope slip through the knot.

     Big Geek happily surges forward.  It dives gracefully down 
     into the void, trailing the yellow rope like a kite tail.

     ONE CAB ONE, Bud and Lindsey through the front port.

               Go after it!  We gotta catch it!

     One.  They are slammed viciously as Coffey's submersible 
     hammers into them.  She hits full throttle.  Coffey floors 
     it after Lindsey, ramming her from behind with his more 
     powerful vehicle.  With difficulty Lindsey maintains trim.

     She arcs back toward the rig.  Flatbed slams her again, for 
     the side.  She fights for control.

186   INT./EXT. CAB ONE                                           186   

     Bud is tossed around, ricocheting off the walls.  Lindsey 
     flies with her jaw set.  Fighting hard for control.  The A-
     frame of the rig looms before her.

     She shoots through at full throttle.

187   EXT. DEEPCORE AND OCEAN TERRAIN                             187   

     Now the fight is really on.  The two subs are dodging between 
     the cylindrical modules at full throttle, slamming into each 
     other and the steel pressure hulls.

     Coffey sideswipes the smaller sub, jamming it sideways.  It 
     screeches along the flank of one of the trimodules.

     They head out over empty terrain in a flat-out speed run.

     Lindsey is jinking and dodging as Flatbed, roars along behind 
     her, tearing

     up the bottom with its powerful backwash.  Lindsey carves 
     hard around a rock pinnacle, finding herself running parallel 
     to the edge of the abyssal canyon.

     Coffey is ramming, hammering from behind, then from side to 


                                                            p. 96

     Lindsey snarls.  He's pissing her off.  He shouldn't do that.

     Ahead, out of the blackness, another outcropping.

     Lindsey rises, cuts right.

     Smashes down into Coffey's craft.  Timing it just right.  He 
     skids catch in the rocks.

     Flatbed slews violently, nosing down.  Crushing into the 
     rocky bottom.

     Pressing the advantage, Lindsey hammers into Flatbed from 

     It smashes full force into a second spire, spinning out of 

     Tangles together, the subs slide down an embankment toward 
     the edge of the wall.  With her one remaining thruster she 
     jerks clear of Flatbed and grounds her crippled sub.  Flatbed 
     tumbles over the edge.

     ANGLE DOWN THE WALL as it falls, trailing a cloud of sediment 
     like a comet's tail, down into the unfathomable blackness 

188   INT. FLATBED                                                188   

     Inside the machine, Coffey is fighting for control.

     He has no buoyancy or motors and the craft continues its mad 
     plunge.  As the pressure intensifies the hull begins to groan, 
     and steel fitting scream with the enormous load.

     A tiny silver fracture shoots partway across the front bubble.  

     Coffey gives up fighting.  Just stares, wide eyed, at his 
     death.  A damned soul dropping into the bottomless pit.

     The fracture line arcs rapidly across the dome port.

     Suddenly, a scythe-like curtain of seawater, under tons of 
     pressure, slashes into him.  A moment later the bubble 
     implodes, and Coffey disappears in a bloody froth of churning 
     water, air and glass shards.

189   EXT. CANYON WALL                                            189   

     Flatbed looks like a toy, tumbling away down the wall.

     Soon its lights vanish.


                                                            p. 97

190   INT. CAB ONE                                                190   

     They're both going to have a lot of bruises...

     Lindsey is surveying the damage.  Water is spraying down on 
     them like a shower, and lights are flickering.

               You did okay, back there.  I was 
               fairly impressed.

               Not good enough.  We still gotta 
               catch Big Geek.

               Not in this thing.

     Lindsey is flipping switches.  Nothing works.

               You totaled it, huh?

               Yeah.  So sue me.

     Bud looks down.  There's already about a foot of water 
     sloshing around the floor at their feet.

               It's flooding like a son of the bitch.

               You noticed.

     She picks up and hand-mike of the underwater telephone.

                           LINDSEY (CONT'D)
               Deepcore, Deepcore, this is Cab One, 

     She waits.  No response.

               Try again.

               Deepcore, this is Cab One.  We need 
               assistance, over.  Deepcore, this--

     With a SEARING CRACKLE or arc-light, a power panel shorts 
     out and everything goes black.


                                                            p. 98

                           LINDSEY (CONT'D)
               Well, that's that.

                    (looking around)
               There's some light from somewhere...

     A faint illumination, dimmer than moonlight, washes in through 
     the front port.

     Lindsey scrunches up against the acrylic and scans the 

               Over there.  It's the rig.

     A glow, beyond a rock promontory... like the lights of a 
     town just over the hill in the desert.

               Good hundred yards, I'd say.

               They'll come out after us.

               Yeah, but it's gonna take them a 
               while to find us.  We better get 
               this flooding stopped.

     He picks up his helmet and clicks on the light.  Using the 
     thing like a bulky flashlight.  The water is really pouring 
     in, spraying them like a shower...  almost two feet deep 

               You see where it's coming in?

               Somewhere behind this panel.  Hold 

     She takes the light and he tries to reach the burst weld, 
     which is blocked by a steel switch panel and a bunch of 

                           BUD (CONT'D)
               Can't get to it.  Have to pull this 
               panel off.  You go any tools?

               I don't know, look around.


                                                            p. 99

     Bud scans the cramped interior, feels around under the water.  
     It's past his knees.

               Nothing.  Son of a bitch.  All I 
               need's a goddamn crescent wrench.

     He grabs the panel in both hands and starts torquing on it, 
     trying to wrench it off the wall.  Heaves on it repeatedly.  
     Finally stops, panting.  He's breathing hard now, and it's 
     not just effort.

                           BUD (CONT'D)
               Son of a bitch!

               Calm down, Bud.

     A nervous edge in her voice now.  Bud's turning all around, 
     looking around for anything, trying to think fast.  Water up 
     to their waists.  The sea closing in.

               Okay... okay.  We gotta get you out 
               of here.


               I don't know how!

               We've only got one suit.

               I know!  I know!  But we better come 
               up with something.

               Aaargh!!  I'm freezing!

     She climbs up on the pilots seat, scrunching right up against 
     the ceiling, keeping as much of herself as possible out of 
     the frigid water.  She's shaking all over with the cold, and 
     getting drenched from above by water pouring in.

                           LINDSEY (CONT'D)
               Okay, look, you swim to the rig and 
               come back with another suit.


                                                           p. 100

               Seven, eight minute swim each way... 
               not enough time.  Look at this...
                    (the rate of flooding)
               Time I get back you'll be--

     That stops the conversation for a second.  About two feet of 
     airspace left.

     Bud can't believe what this is coming down to.  They both 
     stare at each other for a long moment.

     He makes a decision.  Starts pulling off his backpack.

                           BUD (CONT'D)
               Alright, put this on.

               What, you growing gills all of a 
               sudden?  You got it on, keep it on.

               Don't argue, goddamnit, just--

               No way!  Forget it.  Not an option.

     Bud has his pack off uncoupling it.  She keeps fighting his 
     hands, stopping him, hooking it back up.  The desperation of 
     the situation fuel the struggle.

               Lindsey, just put the thing on and 
               shut up--

               NO!!  Now be logical, Bud, you're--

               FUCK LOGIC!!

     They're both right up against the ceiling, water up to their 

     Lindsey's lips are blue and trembling from the cold.

               Listen... will you listen to me for 
               a second!?  You've got the suit on 
               and you're a better swimmer than me.  
               Right?  So I got a plan...

               What's the plan?


                                                           p. 101

               I drown, you tow me back to the rig--

               WHAT KIND OF PLAN IS THAT!??

     Lindsey's gut-scared... shaking violently, her eyes wide.  
     But she's keeping it together.  Thinking it out.  Bud see 
     the bottomless pit opening to take her and he can barely 

               Look, this water is only a couple 
               degrees above freezing.  I drown.  I 
               go into deep hypothermia...  my blood 
               like icewater.  I can maybe be revived 
               after ten, fifteen minutes.  You got 
               all the stuff to do it on the rig.

     Bud stops moving and looks into her face, inches from him.  
     The water is up to their necks.  He knows that, as always, 
     infuriatingly, Lindsey is right.

               It is insane.

               It's the only way, Bud.  Now trust 

     She takes a deep breath.  Before her nerve fails she busies 
     her hands on his suit, rehooking everything.

               Jesus, I don't believe this is 

     She raise his helmet.  Water up to their chins.  They lock 
     eyes, inches apart.  He can feel her breath on his face... 
     maybe for the last time.

                           BUD (CONT'D)
               Oh God, Lins... I--

               Tell me later.

     He grabs her head in both hands and pulls her mouth to his.  
     They lock together in a fierce kiss, fueled by passion and 
     terror... the naked realization of love hanging over the 
     abyss of death.

     She breaks away at the last possible second and quickly pulls 
     his helmet over his head.  Seats is down over the neck ring.


                                                           p. 102

     Lock the bail-out handle, sealing it.  Even with her head 
     pressed up into the highest point of the ceiling, Lindsey's 
     mouth is barely above water.  She give a scared little laugh.

                           LINDSEY (CONT'D)
               This is maybe not such a great plan, 
               is it?

     She is half-paralyzed with the cold, shaking pathetically.  
     Puts her face to the glass of his helmet.  Seconds to go.

                           LINDSEY (CONT'D)
               Hold me.  Hold me, Bud... I'm so 

     He can't hear her, but he read her lips.  They clutch each 
     other desperately.

     The embrace last while the water rises over her mouth and 
     nose.  She starts to choke.  Her hands grip his shoulders 
     like claws.  She bucks and thrashes.

     Bud holds her, and a scream tears loose from him, a pure 
     agony of the soul.


     The freezing seawater races into her lungs.  Her finger go 
     slack, and her hands float lifelessly.

     Bud stares, transfixed, as the last tiny bubble trickles out 
     of Lindsey's open mouth.  He kicks himself into gear, fingers 
     frenzied as he spins the wheel of the lockout hatch.

                                                          CUT TO:

191   INT. DEEPCORE/COMMAND MODULE                                191   

     TIGHT ON VIDEO SCREEN, one of the outside cameras.  A ghostly 
     figure swims out of the darkness, towing something.

                           ONE NIGHT
               It's Bud.  Oh my God... that's 

                           BUD (V.O./FAINT)
               Deepcore, Deepcore, do you read?

               Read you, Bud.  We're here.


                                                           p. 103

192   EXT. DEEPCORE                                               192   

     Bud swims with long, powerful kicks, towing Lindsey.  Her 
     arms and legs float as gracefully as seaweed waving in a 
     gentle current.  Bud's voice comes in short rasps, breathing 
     hard, but icy with control.

               Go to the infirmary... get the cart... 
               oxygen...  de-fib kit... adrenaline 
               in a... ten cc syringe... and some... 
               heating blankets.  You got all that?

                           HIPPY (V.O.)
               Got it. Over.

               Meet me in the moonpool.  Move fast.

193   INT. INFIRMARY                                              193   

     The door crashes open and Jammer thunders in.  He picks up 
     the CPR cart, meant to roll on wheels, and carries it out 
     past Hippy, Catfish, and One Night, who are crowding in to 
     get the rest of the equipment.  They ransack the place in 
     about ten seconds, grabbing everything they might need and 
     half of everything else.

194   EXT. DEEPCORE/UNDER THE MOONPOOL                            194   

     Bud moves up toward the rectangle of light, towing Lindsey 
     to the diving platform.  Through the surface we can see the 
     others arrive at the edge, looking down.

195   INT. SUB-BAY                                                195   

     Hippy and Catfish are setting up the cart and the oxygen 
     kit, dropping things, making mistakes.  One Night is teaching 
     herself how to fill a syringe from a bottle of adrenaline.

               Here he comes!

     Jammer and Sonny leap into the freezing water, waist deep on 
     the submerged diving platform.  Bud bursts to the surface.  
     Together they haul Lindsey across the platform, out of the 
     water, and onto the deck.  Her skin is blue-white, her chest 

     Bud rips his helmet off in a near-frenzy, like a man 
     possessed, a man with a mission.  The others are galvanized 
     by his energy even though they all see Lindsey as dead, a 
     corpse... cold and inert.  Water flows from her mouth and 
     nose and her lips are blue, her limbs completely limp.


                                                           p. 104

     Hippy peels back one eyelid, to find the pupil fixed and 

     But when Bud shouts for them to move, they move.

               Turn her over!

     They flip his wife's body over.  He straddles her, pushing 
     down with both hands in the middle of her back.  Seawater 
     gushes from her slack lips.  He does it again until the flow 
     stops, then flips her onto her back.

                           BUD (CONT'D)
               Come on, hurry!  Gimme the de-fib...

     One Night and Catfish are fumbling with the emergency cart 
     equipment.  They've all been trained in CPR and use of the 
     gear but that was years ago, and this is a friend they're 
     working on.  They're all thumbs.  Catfish drops the 
     electrodes, picks them up quickly, hands them to Bud...

               Here, here, here... no, you got to 
               have bare skin, or it won't...

     Bud rips into her clothing, opening her jumpsuit, literally 
     tearing away her T-shirt, revealing her bare chest... bony 
     and still.

               Jesus.  Gimme those, come on.  
               Catfish, move it, man!  Come on... 
               come on!

     He slaps the things into Lindsey's bare skin, one on the 
     sternum and one on the side of the rib cage.

                           BUD (CONT'D)
               Is that it?  Is this right?

               Yeah!  I mean, I don't know... it 
               looks right.

               All right.  Do it!

     One Night hits the switch and Lindsey's body convulses.  It 
     is a pure muscle reflex, and when it is over, there is not a 
     hint of life.  Hippy pushes him back and puts a black rubber 
     oxygen mask over her mouth.  He opens the valve on the 
     cylinder and starts pumping the squeeze bag.


                                                           p. 105

     They start packing electronic blankets around her to fight 
     the intense hypothermia

                           BUD (CONT'D)
               Do it again, One Night.  Zap her 

     The current hits Lindsey again and her back arches.  Bud 
     doesn't wait for a result... he's in his own reality now, 
     driven.  He's doing it all at once, somehow, in a senseless 
     frenzy... pumping on her chest with his hands, squeezing the 
     oxygen bag, placing the electrodes.

                           BUD (CONT'D)
               Aw.  Christ... come on, baby.  Again!  
               Do it again!

     Lindsey's back arches.  Her body relaxes, inert.

                           BUD (CONT'D)
               Come on, One Night... what are you 
               waiting for?

     A hush seems to have fallen over the group.  They know 
     instinctively that it's over.  But Bud can't accept it.  He 
     looks at them, beseechingly, like they are somehow 
     intentionally holding out on him.  One Night starts to cry, 

               Bud, it's over, man.  It's over.

     There is a beat of silence.  Bud stares down into Lindsey's 
     half-open, motionless eyes.

     TIGHT ON LINDSEY'S EYES, moving in until the pupil FILLS 
     FRAME, a black void.

     REVERSE, HER POV.  SILENCE.  A distant, distorted image, we 
     see Bud, One Night, Jammer, Hippy, Catfish, staring down.  
     It is like the circular top of a dark well, their faces 
     shimmering as if through the surface of water.  It is as if 
     we are in a well, descending, looking up at a circle of faces 
     growing smaller as we drop away... smaller and smaller, 
     receding until it becomes a point of light in the void, like 
     the fading bright dot at the center of a turned-off TV.

     TIGHT ON BUD, rigid, staring.  Catfish puts his hand gently 
     on Bud's shoulder.

     Suddenly Bud tears Catfish's hand away and sets upon Lindsey 
     like a madman, renewing his efforts in spades... totally 


                                                           p. 106

               No!  NO!  She's not... her heart is 
               strong, she wants to live... can't 
               you see that?  Come on, Lins.  Come 
               on, baby!  Zap her again!  Do it... 
               DO IT!

     They do.  And Bud works, feverishly.  He lock his lips over 
     hers and starts mouth-to-mouth.  It is frantic, passionate... 
     the kiss of life.

                           BUD (CONT'D)
               Come on, breath!  Goddamn it, you 
               bitch, you never backed down from 
               anything in life... now fight!

     He slaps her face, hard.  Her head lolls.  He smacks her the 
     other way.

                           BUD (CONT'D)
               Fight, Goddamnit!

     LINDSEY's POV, from the bottom of the great well.  The circles 
     of faces and light rockets toward us in the blackness, as we 
     soar upward from the pit.  We see Bud yelling, but his voice 
     is distant, windlike.

                           BUD (CONT'D)

     TIGHT ON LINDSEY, still.  Then something incredible happens.  
     Something they will never forget as long as they live.  
     Lindsey coughs once, weakly, and her hands clench in a spasm.

     Bud see it and his expression becomes beatific.

                           BUD (CONT'D)
               Come on, Lins.  You can do it... 
               fight your way back, baby...

     The others look on in wonder as Bud wills this woman back.

     She starts to cough, weakly at first... then more violently 
     as she draws air into her lungs.  Bud crouches over her, 
     rubbing her limbs... trying to re-establish circulation.  It 
     is like a difficult birth.  Lindsey comes hacking and howling 
     back into the world, wet and naked and fighting for breath.

     Bud puts the oxygen mask over her face and she draws breath 
     after agonized breath.  He pushes her wet hair back from her 
     face with his trembling hands, and watches her breathe.  
     Color is returning to her skin as she lies there, gasping 


                                                           p. 107

     ONE THE GROUP... Catfish, Hippy, One Night, Jammer, the 
     others... they're all grinning, crying, beaming... gazing at 
     the miracle of her rebirth.

     ON BUD... tears are streaming down his face.

                           BUD (CONT'D)
                    (a whisper, fierce 
                    and harsh)
               You did it, ace.

                                                     DISSOLVE TO:

196   INT. DEEPCORE/QUARTERS -- LATER                             196   

     TIGHT ON LINDSEY, sleeping peacefully.  WIDER shows Bud 
     hovering over her, attentive.  They are alone in Bud's tiny 
     cubicle.  Perhaps twenty minutes have passed.  She is 
     completely swaddles in blankets, except for her face, and 
     looks like a waif.

     Lindsey's eyes flutter and open.  The first thing she sees 
     is Bud, bending over her.  He can't help himself.  The tears 
     break again and roll down his cheeks.  She seems terribly 
     fragile, but bright and aware.  She smiles, faintly... touches 
     his cheek.

               Hey... big boys don't cry, remember?

               Hi, lady.

               Hi, tough guy.  I guess it worked, 

               'Course is worked.  You're never 
               wrong, are you?  How d'you feel.

               I've been better.  Next time it's 
               your turn, okay?

     Bud's expression turn inexplicably grim.

               Well, you got that right.

                                                          CUT TO:


                                                           p. 108

197   INT. SUB-BAY                                                197   

     TIGHT ON BUD'S EYES, as Monk's fingers insert acrylic scleral 
     lenses under his eyelids so he can see in the fluid helmet.

     WIDER reveals Bud is wearing the SEALs' deep suit.  Everybody 
     is grouped around, buckling and zipping.  He is 
     hyperventilating with an oxygen mask, part of the procedure 
     for transitioning from air to fluid breathing.  Monk, on his 
     stretcher, is presiding.  The resident expert.  Lindsey is 
     wrapped in a blanket, still looking wan and frail.  She 
     doesn't have the strength to resist Bud's will, but she's 

               No, Bud, no... not you.

               Who then?

     She looks around at the others.  Sees their eyes.  The fear.  
     Has her answer.

     He lowers the helmet over his head.  Catfish clamps it down.  
     We see what's riving him... his sense of responsibility for 
     these people, for not being able to prevent this situation.

     He touches her cheek, one last time.  She sees his fingers 
     are trembling.

     Then he puts on the gloves.  Catfish is strapping a KEYPAD 
     UNIT onto Bud's forearm.  Lindsey wants to scream... to stop 
     this madness.

                           BUD (MUFFLED) (CONT'D)
               So I'll hear you, but I can't talk?

               The fluid prevents your larynx from 
               making sound.  It'll feel a little 

               Warning you now, folks, I'm a lousy 
                    (a beat)
               The moment of truth, huh?

     His breathing is shallow and tense.  He looks at Lindsey.  
     The eyes of a condemned man.  She squeezes his hand.  He 
     takes a deep breath.

                           BUD (CONT'D)
               Okay.  Let's rock and roll.


                                                           p. 109

     Monk gently cracks a valve on the suit's feed line.  The 
     breathing fluid (3M fluorocarbon emulsion FX-80) swirls into 
     the helmet.  Bud reflexively raises his chin.  The liquid 
     fills toward his mouth.

               Relax now, Bud.  Just keep breathing 
               as it fills... don't fight it.  Take 
               it in.  Just let yourself take it 

     Suddenly, there's nothing in there to breathe but liquid.  
     His eyes go wide, instant panic.  He starts to thrash.  Chest 

                           MONK (CONT'D)
               Hold him.  Hold him.  This is 
               normal... it'll pass in a second.  
               You're gonna be okay.  We all breathe 
               liquid for nine months, Bud.  Your 
               body will remember.

     Lindsey grabs Bud's shoulders, steadying him.  He finds her 
     eyes, the look calming him.  He's passed into a realm from 
     which she has already returned.

     His spasms subside.  He begins to "breathe" normally.  He 
     gets a goofy look of wonder on his face, not really believing 
     what he's experiencing.  He is alive, alert and quite 
     completely drowned inside the FBS helmet.  He grins.

     Gives a big thumbs up.  Lindsey picks up a microphone.

               Can you hear me okay?
                    (another thumbs up)
               Try your keypad.

     Bud taps out a brief message.  FEELS WEIRD - YOU SHOULD TRY 
     THIS prints out on their portable monitor.

                           LINDSEY (CONT'D)
               I already have, moron.

     They help Bud to the edge of the dive platform.  Jammer and 
     Hippy lower Little Geek into the water and Bud grabs onto 
     it.  Hippy yells right up next to his helmet.

               I redid Little Geek's chip the same 
               as Big Geek!  He should take you 
               right to it.  All you gotta do is 
               hang on!


                                                           p. 110

     Lindsey crouches at the edge to watch Bud submerge.

     He looks up at her as he drops away.

     In a few seconds, she can't see him.  Her chin quivers, 

198   EXT. DEEPCORE/THE WALL                                      198   

     FROM FAR BELOW, Deepcore is a faint tiara of lights, above 
     in the blackness.

     A single moving light appears above, at the edge of the cliff, 
     and starts down.  It grows large, resolving into Bud, free-
     falling down the wall.

     He gathers speed as Little Geek's vertical thruster drives 
     them down.

     Bud looks down.  Between his feet he can see a short way 
     down the wall in the glow of his single light, and beyond 
     that an unfathomable blackness.  The wall unrolls upwards 
     out of the darkness like a convoluted gray drapery.  He looks 
     up.  The lights of Deepcore are gone.  He feels  more alone 
     than he has ever felt.  He types out:  CANT SEE YOU

                           LINDSEY (V.O.)
               We're right here with you, Bud.  
               Your depth is 3800 feet.  You're 
               doing fine.

     Bud comes upon the twisted wreckage of the crane, hanging 
     against the wall like a forty-ton yo-yo at the end of the 

199   INT. COMMAND MODULE                                         199   

     Everyone is grouped around the monitor screen, watching Bud's 
     telemetry.  Bud types out: GOOD DEAL ON SLIGHTLY USED CRANE.  
     They watch the depth meter counting down.

               4800 feet.  It's official.

               Bud, according to Monk here, you 
               just set a record for the deepest 
               suit dive.  Bet you didn't think 
               you'd be doing this when you got up 
               this morning.

     The screen print out:  CALL GUINESS.  They laugh.  So far so 
     good.  Seconds later...


                                                           p. 111

               One mile down and still grinnin'.

200   EXT. THE WALL                                               200   

     WIDE SHOT.  Bud is a tiny spider dropping down the wall in a 
     pathetic little pool of light.  The wall is sterile brown-
     gray, devoid of life at this depth.

     LOOKING DOWN, as the light shrinks to a star and vanishes in 
     the blackness yawning below.

201   INT. COMMAND MODULE                                         201   

     Lindsey has the microphone gripped tightly, and the lightness 
     in her voice is a bit brittle.

               8500 feet, Bud.  Everything okay?

               Ask him about pressure effects.  
               Tremors, vision problems, euphoria.

               Ensign Monk want to know how you 

     ON THE SCREEN, printing out: COLD.

                           LINDSEY (CONT'D)
               Big baby.


               It's starting.  It hits the nervous 
               system first.

                           ONE NIGHT
               Keep talking, Lindsey.  Just let him 
               hear your voice.  It doesn't matter 
               what about.

               Don't forget Bud, you're being graded 
               on spelling as well as sentence 
               structure, so concentrate, okay?
                    (long pause)
               Bud, I... uh, there's some things I 
               want to say. It's hard for me.  I'm 
               not of those softy, gooey-center-
               type people.


                                                           p. 112

                           LINDSEY (CONT'D)
               It's not easy, you know, being a 
               cast-iron bitch.  It takes discipline 
               and years of training.  A lot of 
               people don't appreciate that.

     Lindsey has somehow tuned out the others in the room.  In 
     her mind she is with Bud, out in the darkness.

                           LINDSEY (CONT'D)
               But is wasn't all bad.  I know that.  
               You remember that bike trip... we 
               rode the Honda up through Oregon?  
               It took me a week to get my hair 
               untangled, but I've never been 
               happier.  It was the most... free... 
               I've ever felt.  I'm sorry I can't 
               tell you these things to your face.

202   EXT. THE WALL                                               202   

     Bud is visibly trembling, gritting his teeth... holding on 
     as the vise-grip of pressure takes him.

                           LINDSEY (V.O./FILTERED)
               It's pitiful.  I have to wait until 
               you're freezing in the dark and 
               there's ten thousand feet of water 
               between us.  I guess I'm babbling.  
               I'm sorry.

     Bus struggles with his keyboard.

203   INT. COMMAND MODULE                                         203   


     Somehow's she's smiling and on the verge of tears at the 
     same time.

               Two miles down and still grinnin'  
               Comin' up on the big ten thou'.

                           ONE NIGHT
               Bottom's still a mile and a half 

204   EXT. THE ABYSS                                              204   

     BLAM!  Bud jerks as his dive light implodes.  He still has 
     Geek's floodlights.

     He falls on.


                                                           p. 113

205   INT. CONTROL MODULE                                         205   

               12000 feet.  Jesus, I don't believe 
               he's doing this.

               Shut up, Hippy.  Bud, how you doing?

     He types: SE LUMINUS THINNGS Everyone snaps suddenly alert.

               Uh, oh...

               What kind of luminous things, Bud?

               Maybe it's... you know... them.

     The screen prints out:  ITS OK. SQUID. GLOWING SQUID.

206   EXT. THE ABYSS                                              206   

     Bus is in an enormous school of bioluminescent squid, 
     graceful, attenuated creatures less than a foot long.  
     Thousands of then glide in ghostly arcs around him, filling 
     the black void as far as the eye can see.  He stares at them 
     in wonder.  Reaches out and touches one, catches it, lets it 
     go.  Are they really here?  He can no longer be sure of his 
     own perceptions.

207   INT. CONTROL MODULE                                         207   

     Another message from Bud:  THINK THEYR REAL.

               He's losing it.  Talk to him.  Keep 
               him with us.

               Bud, it's the pressure.  Try to 
               concentrate.  Concentrate on my voice.  
               Just listen to my voice.

208   EXT. THE ABYSS                                              208   

     Bud emerges from the school of squid.  As he falls, they 
     form a luminous plane of swirling colors above him.  He stares 
     upwards, transfixed.  BUD'S POV, the ghostly blizzard of 
     luminescence above him.  A spectral form takes shape in the 
     patternless glow... resolving into Lindsey's face, a hundred 
     feet wide.  Gazing down at him, her expression sad.


                                                           p. 114

     Her image receded away from him into the darkness above as 
     he falls.

     DOWN ANGLE ON BUD, reaching up in anguish.

209   INT. CONTROL MODULE                                         209   

     Lindsey watches as Bud haltingly types out:  YOUR GOING AWAY

               I'm not going away, Bud.  I'm right 
               here, right here with you.  This is 
               Lindsey, Bud.  I'm right here.

                           ONE NIGHT
               Signal's fading.

               We're losing juice... kill everything 
               we don't need.  Catfish, knock out 
               those lights.

     Everyone hustles to comply.  The room is plunged into 
     darkness, the faces of the group lit only by the ghostly CRT 

                           ONE NIGHT
               Run it through the digital processor, 
               cook it as much as you can.

               Seventeen thousand feet.  Good Christ 
               Almighty, this is insane.

210   EXT. THE ABYSS                                              210   

     Bud is shaking violently, as if with palsy.  His eyes keep 
     rolling back, and he's having a hard time staying conscious.  
     He tries to type a message and he can't.  The tons of pressure 
     per square inch are short-circuiting his nervous system.  
     Suddenly K-BAM!  Little Geek's pressure hull implodes.  Its 
     lights go out.  BLACKNESS.

211   INT. CONTROL MODULE                                         211   

                           ONE NIGHT
               Little Geek just folded.

               Bye, little buddy.

               He can still make it.


                                                           p. 115

               I know how alone you feel... alone 
               in all that cold blackness... but 
               I'm there in the dark with you, Bud 
               you're not alone...

     Lindsey seems not to be in the room, but to be with him, 
     seeing what he sees.

     She is oblivious to the others.

212   EXT. THE ABYSS                                              212   

     Blackness.  Then a bright light appears... he's lit a 

     It's fierce, flickering glare lights his plunge.  Bud discards 
     the stalwart little ROV and free-falls like a skydiver without 
     a chute.  Out of control, he hits a ledge and rolls off.  
     Tumbles forward in a cloud of debris.  He hits another 
     outcropping, limp as a rag doll.  Rocks and sand rain down 
     with him as he continues his descent.

     Bud us quivering, teeth locked in a titanic rigor.

     He pulls his arms and legs slowly into a fetal position.

     In the plunge toward death he has gone he has gone full 
     circle, returned to the womb in which we all breathe the 
     water of life before we know the world of air and light.  
     Still, there is Lindsey's voice, faintly in his helmet.

                           LINDSEY (V.O.)
               You remember that time, you were 
               pretty drunk, you probably don't 
               remember... the power went out at 
               the old apartment, the one on Orange 
               Street... and we were staring at 
               that one little candle, and I said 
               something really dumb like that candle 
               is me, like every one of us is out 
               there alone in the dark in this 

213   INT. CONTROL MODULE                                         213   

     TIGHT ON LINDSEY as she grips the microphone.  Her voice has 
     become a hoarse whisper.  Her eyes are intense, focused on a 
     point far beyond the walls of the room.

               ... and you lit another candle and 
               put it beside mine and said "that's


                                                           p. 116

                           LINDSEY (CONT'D)
               me"... and we stared at the two 
               candles, and then we... well, if you 
               remember any of it, I'm sure you 
               remember the next part.  Bud, there 
               are two candles in the dark.  I'm 
               with you.  I'll always be with you.

214   EXT. THE ABYSS                                              214   

     A tiny flickering light moves down along a vast black wall.  
     Bud falls on in ream-like solitude, a candle in the dark.

215   INT. CONTROL MODULE                                         215   

     Catfish gently takes the microphone from Lindsey's hands and 
     leans close.

               How you doin', podner?  Still with 
               us, come-back?  Talk to us, Buddy 

     They watch the screen, expectantly.

     Nothing.  Hippy and One Night start checking the equipment.  
     Lindsey tried unsuccessfully to keep the terror our of here 

               Bud?  You hangin' in there?  Talk to 
               me, Bud.  Are you okay?

     There is an agonizing pause, then the letters appear slowly:  


                           LINDSEY (CONT'D)
               What kind of light?


               He's hallucinating badly.

216   EXT. THE ABYSS                                              216   

     Bud is no longer in pain.  His expression is rapt.

     LOOKING DOWN, past his to a ghostly landscape.  His last 
     flare sputters out, but there is light.  Bioluminescent algae 
     carpet the walls of the canyon below him.  And he's right... 
     it is beautiful.


                                                           p. 117

     The water is so clear we can see down 500 feet past Bud's 
     tiny, silhouetted figure, to a vast landscape faintly revealed 
     in spectral pastels.  Barren as the moon but exquisite, 
     serene.  Changeless.  A place unseen by human eyes.

     Like a firefly below, the lights of Big Geek are visible.  
     Bud descends toward the ROV, which has grounded on a narrow 
     shelf.  Below the shelf, the wall slopes out, suggesting we 
     are near the bottom of the canyon but can't see it.

     ON BIG GEEK/MIRV, sitting there like a dumbshit.  Bud's feet 
     thump into the sediment next to it, stirring it luminous 
     particles.  Touchdown... three and half miles of water over 
     his head.  Bud leans over the warhead in a swarm of fireflies.

217   INT. CONTROL MODULE                                         217   

     AT GEEK prints out.  Monk takes the headset gently from 

               Okay, Bud, we'll go step by step.  
               Take the cover plate off the firing 

     A long pause.  Then... PLATE OFF

                           MONK (CONT'D)
               All right, Bud, you have to cut the 
               ground wire, not the lead wire...

218   EXT. ABYSSAL LEDGE                                          218   

     Bud is peering into the detonator unit.  How bad is he?  We 
     can't tell.

                           MONK (V.O.)
               It's the blue wire with the white 
               stripe, not... I repeat... NOT the 
               black wire with the yellow stripe.

     Bud is staring.  Blinking.  The two wire look big as sewer 
     pipes, and they're miles away... way down there where his 
     hands are.

     The only light he has left is a CYALUME STICK.  He pulls out 
     the little plastic tube.  Breaks and shakes.  It starts to 
     glow, a tiny wand of green light.  He fumbles with his tool 
     pouch, takes out a pair of side-cutters.

     CUTING NNOW he types to them.  He reaches into the detonator.

     DETAIL, THE WIRES... in the green Cyalume glow, the look 
     identical.  The cutters go over on wire.  A long beat.


                                                           p. 118

     They withdraw, then go over the other wire...

     He cuts--

219   INT. CONTROL MODULE                                         219   

     Everyone is frozen.  Waiting.  It's very quiet.

               Would we see the flash?

               Through three miles of water?   I 
               don't know.

     They're holding their breaths.  Then... STILL HERE.  A cheer 
     goes up.  Rebel yells.

               Quiet, quiet!  Save you air, 

               Bud, give me a reading off your liquid 
               oxygen gauge.

     TEN MINUTES WORTH ID SAY.  Lindsey goes white.

               It took him over an hour to get down 

     It's hopeless.  Lindsey grabs the headset from Monk.

               Drop you weights and start back now!  
               The gauge could be wrong...

220   EXT. ABYSSAL LEDGE                                          220   

     Bus is one his knees beside the dead warhead.  His expression 
     is enigmatic.

     He looks around slowly at the luminous canyon.  Starts to 

221   INT. CONTROL MODULE                                         221   

     The message comes in:  NO.  THINK ILL STAY A WHILE.  BEAUTIFUL 

               No!  You can make it!  You hear me?


                                                           p. 119

                           LINDSEY (CONT'D)
               Drop your weights... you... can 
               breathe shallow... you...  it could 
               be wrong--

     Lindsey's voice has twisted into a sob.  She begins to weep, 

                           LINDSEY (CONT'D)
               Oh God, Virgil, please...

                           DONT CRY BABY
               A pause.  Then the words...


     Lindsey sobs at the mike.  The others look away.  The signal 
     is weakening.

     One Night boosts it and the screen clears briefly.


     She stares at the printout.

               Love you.

     There is no reply.

                                                          CUT TO:

222   EXT. THE ABYSS                                              222   

     A tiny figure lies slumped beside the inert ROV, an Indian 
     dying with his horse in the desert.

     Bud's eyelids close.  His chest barely moving.

     A strange illumination bathes his face and his eyes open.  
     He blinks.  Weakly, he raises his head, facing the source of 
     the radiance.

     BUD'S POV... A glowing figure hovers before him, like a 
     vision.  It seems to be an angel.  Seen closer, as it drifts 
     toward him, we see that it is an extraterrestrial being, 
     bioluminescent like some deep-sea fish.  Its body and limbs 
     are transparent, and it resembles a figure made of blown 
     glass.  A delicate mantle or veil billows out around its 
     like a corona, which pulsates gently, propelling the being 
     with the hypnotic grace of a Spanish dancer.  The head is 
     refined and strangely anthropomorphic, with large eyes that 
     convey a cold, dispassionate wisdom.


                                                           p. 120

     It is stunningly beautiful.

     The creature settles toward him.  Unafraid, Bud extends his 

     Its slender, blown-glass digits grasp his bulky glove.  It 
     pulls him up from the benthic ooze and they glide together 
     down the slope, deeper into the abyss.

     At the limits of visibility we see faint, glowing forms moving 
     below.  They resolve into NTI ships.  Tiny ovoids, like the 
     little scoutship that Lindsey nearly collided with at the 
     Montana wreck.  The larger manta-ships.  And others, strangely 
     configured, moving in the darkness below like luminous fish.

     Suddenly the darkness explodes with light.  A vast, 
     reticulated pattern of brightly glowing lines, like some 
     enormous circuit diagram, appears below them, covering the 
     floor of the abyssal trench.  It sweeps outward from the 
     center, as if the light were surging through channels.  The 
     NTIs are revealing their home to Bud.  The ships move among 
     the spires like air traffic over a major city.

223   EXT. N.T.I. STRUCTURE                                       223   

     Bud and the creature descend until, between the lines of 
     light, we see a dark surface of inhuman design.  The shape 
     extends beyond the limits of visibility.

     Towers hundreds of feet high stretch upward from the curving 
     surface.  It warfs their figures as the descend toward it, 
     approaching an opening that soon yawns like a vast mouth.

     They are picking up speed, swept along by a powerful current, 
     into the mouth-like opening.

224   INT. N.T.I. STRUCTURE                                       224   

     Bus stares around in awe as smooth, pearlescent walls blur 
     past him.  It is a curving three-dimensional maze of tunnels, 
     like a vast circulatory system, where controlled currents of 
     water become freeways in three-dimensional space.  Tunnels 
     divide, narrow, and reenter main-routes hundreds of feet 
     across, as the pair race through in a dizzying blur.

225   INT. FINAL CHAMBER                                          225   

     Entering a smaller chamber they settle to the floor, and the 
     NTI moves back a few feet.

     A shimmering plane or surface appears like a vertical curtain 
     bisecting the chamber.  The seawater divides, like the Red 
     Sea, into two rippling walls.


                                                           p. 121

     They move apart.  Leaving Bud standing in a short, shimmering 
     hallway.  Weakly, he uncouples his helmet and pulls it free.  
     Drops to his knees.  Doubles over as spasms wrack him.  
     Breathing fluid explodes from his lungs.  He lies gasping 
     and coughing on the floor, dragging in deep breaths of what 
     he can only hope is air.  It is.

     Bud slowly recovers, sitting up.  His head is clearing.  
     This really is happening.  Beyond the shimmering, vertical 
     surface of the water he sees the NTI being joined by others, 
     move or less identical, until a group of seven is gathered 
     watching him.

               Howdy, Uuuh... how you guys doin'?

     His voice echoes metallically in the strange chamber.  Soft 
     laps of water from the 'walls'.

     In the air a pattern of glowing lines appears, a series of 
     what appears to be circuit diagrams.  Bud staggers back from 
     this strange 'screen' hanging in mid-air.  The image is about 
     twenty feet across.

     There is a rolling jumble of static and interference which 
     resolves into...  the face of Dan Rather, doing the evening 
     news.  STATIC, then another newscast.  And another.  Fragments 
     of the same story.  The world on the brink of war.

                           BUD (CONT'D)
               You watch our TV?  That what you're 
               trying to say?  That you know what's 
               been going on up there?

     The NTIs are impassive.  Static... then another newscast.

     This time, we're allowed to focus on the story.  An on-the-
     scene interview outside a high-tech seismology lab.  There 
     is an air of hysteria about the scene... technicians running 
     across the background of the shot, people shouting, the 
     reporter jamming his mike at the harried-looking scientist.

               ... a Caltech scientist who is among 
               those reporting an unprecedented 
               disturbance in the world's oceans.  
               Dr. Breg, can you give us a clearer 
               explanation then we're getting?

     Berg is edgy and distracted.  People keeps handing him pieces 
     of paper, computer hardcopy.  The biggest thing in his life 
     is happening...


                                                           p. 122

               They're acoustic shockwaves, like 
               tsunamis, but with no seismological 
               source.  The waves are propagating 
               toward the shorelines of every 

     An assistant runs up, face shiny with fear, beckoning.  We 
     see that Berg is running scared.  The impossible bringing 
     the greatest terror to the rational mind.

                           BERG (CONT'D)
               Yeah.  I'll be right there... I have 
               to go.  Look, we don't know what it 
               is!  Okay?  Not the slightest goddamn 

     The image dissolves into static, fades out.  Bud turns to 
     the NTIs.

               You're doing it!  Right?  That's 
               what you're telling me.  Yeah, you 
               can control water...  that's your 
               technology.  But why?

     Static again, then a brilliant flash.  Grainy stock film of 
     a hydrogen bomb test in the Pacific.

     The film repeats, and then again, faster, and again until is 
     merges into an unbroken white glare.  Bud gets the message.

                           BUD (CONT'D)
               Hey, you don't know they're really 
               gonna do it.  Where do you get off 
               passing judgment on us, when you 
               can't be sure?  How do you know?

     The screen exploded into a staccato series of searing images, 
     stark moments from recent history...

     US soldiers fighting in Vietnam, street warfare in Beirut, a 
     car bomb in Belfast, a suspect shot in the head in the streets 
     of Saigon, burned and bleeding children, grainy footage of 
     corpses bulldozed into mass graves at Auschwitz, Wermacht 
     soldiers marching in goose-step review, a 13-year-old contra 
     with an AK-47...  Just glimpses, strobing... a few frames of 

     But enough.  The images continue.


                                                           p. 123

     HOLD ON BUD, as the lights flicker on his face, the ongoing 
     indictment of humanity.

                                                          CUT TO:


     A video news crew leaps from a Jet Ranger helicopter in a 
     parking area and runs to set up near the railing, facing the 
     ocean.  Pandemonium reigns around them, people running, 
     driving, evacuating inland.

     On the horizon, out to sea, a dark line has appeared.

     It grows in height as it comes closer, a wall of water 
     stretching across the horizon, already hundreds of feet high 
     and growing.

227   EXT. NEW YORK -- DAY                                        227   

     LONG LENS SHOT, looking seaward past the Statue of Liberty, 
     out past the Verazzano Narrows.  Stacked up by perspective, 
     the distant wave is a wall of water impossibly high, still 
     miles out.


     The scene repeats on the eastern coast of the Kamchatka 
     Penninsula in Russia, where a full moon shimmers along the 
     crest of a vast wave.

     SIRENS wail as Russian sailors run from the docks of 
     Petropavlovsk Naval Base.

     Some stand rooted as the black glacier of water, a thousand 
     feet high and growing, thunders toward them in nightmarish 
     slow motion.

229   EXT. OCEAN FRONT, SANTA MONICA -- DAY                       229   

     The minicam crew reporter is speaking rapidly, faltering 
     with emotion, his voice cracking like the famous broadcast 
     from the scene of the Hindenburg disaster.

               The horizon has gone dark... the 
               crowd is starting to run... some are 
               just staring, unable to move... the 
               wave... the wave is... it's... I 
               don't know... maybe a thousand feet 
               high already... getting bigger as 
               I'm watching...  still miles out... 
               oh my God, Jesus... I can hear it...


                                                           p. 124

     A roar fills the air, a thunder which drowns out the people's 
     screams, even the rotors of the news chopper as the camera 
     teams scrambles aboard.  They leave the announcer standing 
     transfixed, his face blank, eyes tracking upward and upward 
     as the ground begins to shake.

230   EXT. NEW YORK -- DAY                                        230   

     The Statue of Liberty looks like a souvenir figurine at the 
     afternoon sun is blocked out by the cresting tsunami, an 
     escarpment of water 2500 feet tall.

231   EXT. SAN FRANSISCO -- DAY                                   231   

     LONG LENS SHOT -- The Golden Gate Bridge and the hills of 
     the city, the buildings downtown.  Beyond, FILLING FRAME is 
     the wall of sea green which defies our comprehension.  The 
     image shakes with the THUNDER.

232   EXT. MALIBU -- DAY                                          232   

     A diehard surfer looks over his shoulder as the mountain of 
     water which transcends his worst nightmare.  He lies paralyzed 
     on his board.

233   EXT. MIAMI -- DAY                                           233   

     Downtown Miami crouches in terror at the feet of the 
     shimmering monolith.

     In a penthouse office suite, an executive watches the wave 
     towering above him, blocking out the sun, a line of raging 
     foam appearing as it arches over, about to break upon the 
     teeming city.

     And then...

     The wave slows as it crests...

     And stops.


     2600 feet high and motionless except for a shimmering 
     undulation of its surface in the bright sun.  There is quiet, 
     a faint wind and calling of confused gulls.  Various 
     reactions, as the thunder fades and people recover, only to 
     stand awed before the vast, inexplicable manifestation.  A 
     news helicopter passes in front of it like a dragonfly.

234   EXT. MALIBU                                                 234   

     The surfer just blinks, starting.


                                                           p. 125

235   EXT. NEW YORK -- DAY                                        235   

     On the East Coast it's the same, as the World Trade Centers 
     are dwarfed by a shimmering blue wall which stands... waiting.

236   EXT. PETROPAVLOVSK NAVAL BASE, U.S.S.R. -- NIGHT            236   

     Russian seamen, lining the harbor breakwall at Petropavlovsk 
     Naval Base on the Kamchatka Peninsula, stare upward at the 
     monolith of water, undulating in the moonlight.  It seems 
     poised to crash down, inflicting inconceivable devastation... 
     but it doesn't.

237   EXT. OCEAN FRONT WALK, SANTA MONICA                         237   

     When all have seen...

     The wave soundlessly subsides, slowly slipping back and down 
     until the surface of the sea is normal again.

     VIDEO SHOT, HANDHELD, of a crowd of people watching the sea.  
     Moving from face to face.  Various reactions as people respond 
     to what they can only understand as a miracle.  The faces... 
     awed, stunned, tear-streaked...  laughing.  The cameraman is 
     just walking.  Some people turn to him and smile, or laugh, 
     or whoop.

     A woman is collapsed on a bench, crying.

     A man is on his knees, shaking.

     Total strangers hug each other.

     A black guy, tears pouring down his face, turns to the camera 
     with a beautific grin.

               Somebody just laid it down to us, 
               man.  Things ain't never gonna be 
               the same!

     PULL BACK to reveal that we are in the...

238   INT. FINAL CHAMBER                                          238   

     Bud sits, shaken, watching the screen, as people react to 
     their deliverance.

     He turns to the NTIs.

               Why?  You could've done it.  Why 
               didn't you?


                                                           p. 126

     The screen darkens.  Then letters appears on it, slowly 
     printing out, as if someone was clumsily typing them.


     And we've seen this before so we know the rest...




     The last message expands to fill the entire screen.

     Bud stares at the screen, at his message of self-sacrifice, 
     then at the aliens.  They bow their heads, just for a moment.  
     A sign of respect.

     CLOSE ON BUD as he begins to realize what has happened.

                                                          CUT TO:

239   INT. DEEPCORE/CONTROL MODULE                                239   

     Lindsey is slumped in a chair, just staring.  Withdrawn.

     The others are conserving oxygen and heat, huddling in the 

     The air is looking pretty thick.  The speaker of the 
     hydrophone transceiver crackles to life.

                           MCBRIDE (V.O.)
               Deepcore, do you read?  This is 
               Benthic Explorer, over.

               Hell yes, we read!  Good of you to 
               join us.  How's that storm doin'?

               Well, it's strange... it just kind've 
               blew itself out all of the sudden.  
               We're up here in a flat sea with no 
               wind.  But then a lot of weird 
               things've been happening.

               Well, hell, son.  You better get us 
               a line down here, we're in moderately 
               poor shape.


                                                           p. 127

     LATER, Hippy, Catfish, and Monk are conferring B.G. on how 
     to get a new umbilical hooked on.  One Night is talking to 
     McBride on the hydrophone.

               They figure it was over a half mile 

                           ONE NIGHT
               I wish I could have seen it--

     She glances down at the telemetry screen, seeing movement.

                           ONE NIGHT (CONT'D)
               Hey.  Hey!  HEY!!  Look... it's Bud.

               That's impossible.

     Lindsey bolts to the screen.  Stares at the message printing 

     A huge grin wraps around her face.

               No it's not.

                           MCBRIDE (V.O.)
               What's it say?

     Lindsey take the mike and sits before the screen.  During 
     the message, her voice will go through an emotional spectrum 
     from confusion to wonder, to a childlike joy.


               It says...


     Lindsey grins as she reads the next part...


               I'd say that's a big 10-4, jack.


                                                           p. 128

               "THEY WANT US TO GROW UP A BIT AND 
               ITS JUST A SUGGESTION."

240   INT. BENTHIC EXPLORER BRIDGE -- DAY                         240   

     Beyond the windows the ocean is calm.  The sky steel-gray 
     put placid.  McBride turns to Commodore DeMarco and the Navy 
     contingent, his eyebrows cocked.

               Looks like you boys might be out of 

               Something's going on down there.  
               I'm getting some big readings....

     Bendix is hunched over the sonar, and we can see the screens 
     lit up like a Wurlitzer.

241   INT. DEEPCORE                                               241   

     In Deepcore the crew becomes aware of a strange subsonic 
     rumbling.  The sonar is going crazy.  One Night puts the 
     headphones of her passive sonar rig up to her ear, then jerks 
     it away.

                           ONE NIGHT
               Whew!  Whatever this is, it's major.

     The rumbling increases and a glow diffuses the water.

     The glow intensifies until a blinding shaft of light blasts 
     through the viewport, bathing the whole interior in a cold 
     white radiance.

     A last message appears on the screen:


     The radiance intensifies.  Everyone covers their eyes.  It 
     flares to WHITE-OUT.

                                                          CUT TO:

242   INT./EXT. EXPLORER BRIDGE -- DAY                            242   

     Bendix and the bridge crew are going nuts.  All their 
     instruments are pegged.


                                                           p. 129

               Active is pinging back something 
               big... it's enormous!  Coming up 
               right under us.


               Where?  EVERYWHERE!!
                    (looks out the window)
               Over there!  Port bow.

243   EXT. BENTHIC EXPLORER AND OCEAN                             243   

     A depression appears in the surface of the sea a hundred 
     yards off, not swirling down like a whirlpool, just dimpling 

     It gets wider.  Deeper.  Rapidly becomes a yawning pit.

     The ocean is OPENING.

     Now the surface is churned by turbulence.  Slow massive roils 
     of tremendous power boil up from the depths.

     McBride leads a mass exodus onto the deck to see better.

     The open becomes a roaring maw a hundred yards across.

     The ships are like toys on the shimmering rim of the 

     spire.  Smoothly curving and iridescent.  Off the starboard 
     beam, a quarter mile away, another spire rises.  Tons of 
     seawater fall from its sides with a THUNDEROUS ROAR, the 
     energy of Niagara.

     Off the port bow... another spire.

     And another, beyond the destroyer Albany, dwarfing it.

     Six towers... plus one larger, in the center.  Rising.

     One the Explorer's deck, a shadow engulfs them as the nearest 
     spire blocks out the sun.  The air, the sea, the deck... all 
     vibrate with the THUNDER OF CREATION.

     And now for the payoff shot:  WE'RE HIGH, LOOKING DOWN.  THE 


                                                           p. 130

     It surfaces with slow majesty, gently beaching all the ships 
     on its broad back.  We recognize it as the structure into 
     which Bud was led by the angelic being, which we assumed was 
     a city.  The Explorer rocks gently on its flat hull, clunking 
     massively to one side as it settles.

     The bridge crew watch millions of tons of seawater streaming 
     off the back of the vast, slightly curved hull.  The missile 
     cruiser rocks back and forth nearby, high and dry... its 
     prop whining futility.

     ON EXPLORER'S DECK, McBride, Bendix, DeMarco, the rest of 
     the Navy contingent... they're all standing there open-
     mouthed, in a dream-like daze.  Touched by the hand of God.


     WHAT THEY SEE -- Fifty yards away, between them and the 
     Albany, sits Deepcore Two.  It looks like a particularly 
     ugly and unwanted toy, sitting on the glistening plain of 
     the NTI Ark's hull.

     CLOSER, ON TRIMODULE C, as the hatch at the bottom opens.

     Catfish's feet appear, bicycling.  He swings down to the 
     pearlescent 'deck'.  Stands there blinking in the sunlight, 
     mole-like.  Jammer plonks down behind him.  He turns, lifts 
     Lindsey down.  Hippy, Sonny, and the rest, emerge into the 
     light of the sun.  A deliverance from the blackest night 
     they will ever know.

               We should be dead.  We didn't 

               Out blood oughta be fizzin' like a 
               warm, shook-up Coke.

               They must've done something to us.

     Lindsey has tears streaming down her cheeks... for the sun, 
     for life, for their deliverance and the larger one she knows 
     has happened, an epiphany for the whole human race.

               Oh, yes.  I think you could say that.

     She blinks.  Seeing something not far away.  She gives a 
     little laugh, or something between laughing and crying.


                                                           p. 131

     REVERSE, as Bud walks up the curving incline of one of the 
     mouth-like entrances to the NTI structure.  His suit is 
     casually unzipped and the FBS helmet dangles from one hand 

     She starts toward him.  Breaks into a run.  Then stops a few 
     feet from him.

     Watching him come to her.

     His smile, his eyes illuminating her.

     He stops and she touches him, lightly.  Is this real?

     The look at each other, wonderingly a moment.

     Then laugh.  She sniffs loudly.

                           LINDSEY (CONT'D)
               Hello, Brigman.

               Hello, Mrs. Brigman.

     Their lips meet.

                                                     CUT TO BLACK

                               THE END