[Ambience: ethereal wind, shimmering crystal, and glimmering void.] 

Narrator 1: Clouds above. Clouds below. A twinkling expanse as far as the eye can see—the air glimmering in all directions with fine crystal particulates. Nothing and no one. 

Narrator 2: The light blinding and iridescent, almost, glowing from each and every chunk of this mica—this white, glassy rock that hangs, weightless, in the air. 

Narrator 3: In much the same way that prisms refract light, twinkling sparkles of this omnipresent glow dance across the cloudscape. 

1: There are small crystals and large crystals, and GIGANTIC ones, all floating in the breeze, wafting slowly through the air. And just there, emerging now from a cloud bank, is one particularly colossal sharp, brilliant berg of this glassy substance. 

2: This is not a hospitable region for ships, and this berg in particular looks murderous—like it’s taken down quite a few ships in its time. In fact, there’s a piece of wreckage stuck to it right now, pinned against the bottom of it like a helium balloon that’s trapped against the ceiling. 

3: In this case, it’s more accurate to imagine a cruise ship, upside down, trapped at the bottom of this berg. Oh, it has been [stuck here] for years. 

1: Belly-up. Buoyant. Pressing against the underside of the crystalline formation, having risen here and stopped. 

2: Porthole after empty porthole reflecting the gleaming white light outside. 1: And through one porthole, a little face looking out. 

3: The face of a boy. The face… of a hostage. 

[Theme music]

1: Here inside one of the topsy-turvy destroyed promenades—upper decks—of this cruise liner, there is a man. And a boy. 

2: The boy’s hands are bound in front of him. He looks forlornly out one of the windows, not having much else to do at the moment. The man is distracted, pacing back and forth along the length of the promenade—the ballroom—muttering under his breath, fiddling with something in his hands, feverishly. 

3: Both of these figures are disheveled. Unkempt. Dirty. 

2: Smelly, if we’re being honest. 

1: They sit here in the midst of all this wreckage. Tables turned upside-down. Glassware. Broken plates. Shattered shipboard paraphernalia all over the floor, which, here in this case, is actually the promenade’s ceiling. 

2: The man (Ginsberg is his name) looks to be in somewhat rougher shape than the boy, although at least he’s not bound. But he has a bandage wrapped around his head… some dirty, browned blood seeping through it. Some head wound that hadn’t been properly tended to. Recent. 

1: And he’s got an earpiece on. He’s shouldering this little ratty headphones-like thing. He is twizzling the dials on his contraption—this teletheric transducer in his hand. Bats it on the side, trying to get a clearer signal, going over closer to the window, shoving the boy out of the way. “Get down,” he says. “Someone might SEE you.” (That of course, is the point. That’s why the boy was in the window in the first place.) 

2: He gulps (the boy does) and attempts bravely: “Someone like the Consector, you mean? They’ll come for me, you know. Consectors ALWAYS win.” 

1: Ginsberg is going to say something sarcastic. He knows damn well the Consectors do NOT always win… but he is interrupted—distracted—by a sudden signal coming through his teletheric: a booming, bombastic voice. 

[Teletheric signal whines, feeds back, and resolves into garbled radio vocals.]

3 (as an as-yet unidentified on-air announcer, broadcasting on the airwaves): “Now the Consector’s ship cuts through the glistening atmosphere the upper Unfold in hot pursuit, doggedly tracking that most foul, that most dangerous and wicked manservant Demarin Ginsberg who—for those who are just tuning in—kidnapped young Milton Flieit Jr., grandchild of Milton Fleit, the Senior Notary—” 

[Transmission is switched off.] 

1: …and that’s all Ginsberg needs to hear. He shuts that hell off. 

2: He swears under his breath. 

1: Grabs the boy. 

3 (as Milton Fleit Jr.): “I TOLD you they were coming for me!” 

1 (as Demarin Ginsberg): “Move,” he says, dragging him forward. 

[Musical transition.] 

1: Outside the cruise ship, way off across the sky, just barely visible from one of the cruise liner’s portholes, there comes a craft. Swimming through the air, hundreds of oars fanning the wind 

[Whooshing oars. The pulse of an incoming ship.] 

2: Like a glittering gold sea urchin: the Consector’s flagship. Aboard this ship, the third major protagonist of our story. 

1: Tall. Dignified. Darkly handsome. Lustrous hair flowing over his shoulders. A trim beard. A steely gaze. Gold armor coating his person. 

2: Commanding respect and admiration from everyone around him. 

1: Consector Jonas Spahr. And beside him in slightly less impressive armor… the protagonist in question: Phineas Thatch, Adsecla to the Consector. 

2: His second in command, if you like. 

3: Let’s take a look at him, shall we?

1: He’s smaller, for sure. Less dignified. Less dramatic and commanding. 2: Much younger. Much less experienced. 

1: No beard. Short dirty-blonde hair. 

2: His armor silver where the Consector’s is gold, an impressive mica mace at his hip. 

1: The pair of them, these two men, walking and talking down the corridors of their craft, accompanied by an entire company of soldiers. They make an impressive and striking duo. That is largely thanks to Consector Spahr. Phineas doesn’t add very much to the equation. They walk and talk, discussing the strategy to come. 

2: And every one of their actions is narrated attentively by Jedidiah Pom, who follows them. Jedidiah Pom, the Voice of the Teletheric… 

3: …The narrator we heard just moments ago. 

1: Familiar and beloved by those listeners at home, far away, tuned into the airwaves from their living rooms in the distant crystalline cities of the Un. Pom, known so well, so intimately, having narrated the adventures of a dozen Consectors previous to Jonas Spahr. 

2: This man, Jedidiah Pom, large and red-faced: he’s sort of like a cross between, like, a circus ring-master and a radio shock-jockey. All bluster, all outrageous performance. All he cares about is that you keep listening. He speaks ceaselessly into a microphone 

being held for him by an attendant (more on that later)—an almost unstoppable stream of narration coming poetically from his lips. He never has to stop and think about it and it is perfectly exaggerated, perfectly calculated to ensnare and entrap the interest of those audiences at home clustered around their teletheric devices— 

1: (Sound familiar?) 

2. —waiting breathlessly for the next step in the adventure of the Consector. 

1: Oh, and what an adventure it is! Spahr, walking now. They are headed down a deck toward the airlock, the company members in step behind them, turning to Phineas.

1 (as Jonas Spahr): “This’ll be a simple operation, Phin. In and out. Just gotta pick up Ginsberg and get outta there. I don’t personally believe he’s that much of a danger to young Fleit, do you? 

3 (as Phineas Thatch): “Well, no, sir, I… I imagine not. He’s been with the family for years and… and took care of the boy, from what I understand…” 

1 (Spahr): “You DID read his file, I hope?” 

3 (Thatch): “Oh, of course.” 

1 (Spahr): “If you’d known Ginsberg as long as I have, Phin, you would know that Ginsberg is a weak-willed individual. Frankly, I’m astonished that he even got this far.” 

3 (Thatch): “Oh, you’ve met him?” 

1 (Spahr): “I’ve met him a number of times. Of course you know me: rubbing shoulders with all these big-wigs, as it were. Anyway, Ginsberg frankly does not strike me as a rebel and I’m astonished that he even made it this far. He should be no challenge to us.” 

2: Spahr, the benevolent Consector, apparently deigns to even speak to the help of the glamorous families that he works for. 

3: They descend into a marshalling room where perhaps a hundred or so soldiers—this, the Consector’s Company—have assembled for this operation. 

1 (Spahr): “I’m going to let you take the lead on this one, Phineas. Are you ready?” 3 (Thatch): “Sure thing, sir.” 

1 (Spahr): “You take the lead. The Company will follow. I will stay back just a bit. I’ll keep an eye on things.” 

2: Phineas hasn’t led any Company operations solo before. He’s always been there to support Spahr, to do whatever Spahr asked of him. He’s a little bit nervous to be put in charge, but this should be well within his abilities. After all, they have a hundred or so Company members and they’re only up against one man, tired from days of running. Exhausted. Hungry, probably.

1: Spahr pats Phineas on the back. “Take it away, Phineas.” The Company members listen attentively. 

2: Even Pom silences his bombastic narration for a moment. 

3: And the intern turns the microphone to Phineas. (As Phineas:) “Alright Company. This should be… a pretty easy mission. Just kind of an in and out. There are only so many places where he could hide, but we’re gonna go in. We’re gonna get him.” 

1: He mutters a few things about Team One going towards the stern, Team Two going Port: they’re going to fan out, make formation—he, you know… it’s the lingo. 

2: A slightly disappointed look flits across Jedidiah Pom’s face, just for a moment, before he effortlessly offers up his own interpretation of what Phineas has just said. 

1: His delivery is drowned out by a sudden explosion of wind. 

[Exterior door of ship hisses open and the windy void howls beyond.] 2: The airlock door has just been opened. 

1: The vast void howls—yawning emptiness above and below, just outside the threshold. 

3: In a practiced and fluid motion, each member of the Company including Jonas Spahr and Phineas Thatch flick down face-guards—masks—protection against the elements of the Unfold. 

1: Outside the airlock, across that wind-blown expanse of empty air, there is, hovering distantly a few hundred feet away, a vast butte of mica. Pinioned underneath it, a cruise ship. Out come the harpoons. 

2: They wait for Phineas’s mark. 

3: And Phineas, realizing that they’re waiting for his mark, points emphatically. He points a couple extra times just to be sure and the harpoons are loosed. 

1: Deployed, they shriek through the air. They spurt forth, trailing guide-lines, shooting across the emptiness, plunging into the cruise ship, snapping taut, whizzing and twanging in the air.

2: The thick metal cords singing in the void. 

1: Moments like this—oh, Phineas’s hair just stands on end just a little bit. It feels so COOL. 

2: No one gets into the Consector’s Company if they have vertigo, and it’s a good thing: as the Company members begin to zipline from one ship to the other, the endless white void yawns beneath their feet. If they were to fall, they would KEEP falling… 

1: It’s a LONG way down. Phineas is out the hatch… and the media contingent is on their way to the dinghy. They will be coming across slowly. None of THIS for Jedidiah Pom. 

2: He considers himself quite adventurous enough coming along on missions like this without having to join the young folks in their adventurous ziplining and bungie-ing and rock-climbing. 

1: Phineas whizzes across the expanse, ziplining along this cable, mica shards fizzing on his armor, sparking and glittering as they contact him. 

2: Feeling only the slightest of flips in his stomach as he goes over the vast expanse. 

1: And soon he is through a broken wall of the cruise liner, shooting into an upside-down corridor, light fixtures—loose chandeliers—lying slack on their ceiling-floor. 

2: His armored boots land solidly. 

1: Already his Company members are speeding out before him, fanning, taking positions. 

3: Phineas takes the lead. 

1: Jonas Spahr ziplines into the corridor behind him, watching quietly. 

2: The Company is being entirely professional, of course, but compared to some other recent missions they’ve been on, their energy this time is a little bit lackadaisical. A little bit relaxed. The stakes are not as high. 

1: Outside the window, through the porthole, through the shattered wall of the cruise linter, the dingy is already detaching from the Consector’s ship, wheeling over.

3: It’ll probably reunite with the company a little bit further ahead in the ship. And that’s precisely where the Company heads. 

2: With Phineas leading them, they proceed to do a quick practiced professional sweep of the ruined cruise ship, working their way from one end to the other by process of elimination, working their way closer and closer to the inevitable location of the fugitive and his hostage. 

3: Shattered staterooms. Decommissioned kitchens. Broken dining rooms. Each one fading into a montage of ruin and decrepit luxury as they search forward. 

1: A lot of this search is killing time. Ginsberg has left a pretty distinct trail. Phineas has no trouble following it. But he has been told to wait for the media to arrive, and they’re not here quite yet. 

2: Ginsberg was obviously panicked and in somewhat of a rush. 

3: And injured, judging by the drops of blood and the scuffling marks left on the dusty ground, which, as you recall, is the ceiling. 

1: The dingy is pulling up outside. Phineas, glancing over his shoulder, looks to Spahr. Spahr gives him a nod. It’s time. 

2: They can hear the media approaching, Pom’s unmistakable tones growing louder and closer. 

1: The dinghy pulling toward a shattered crevice in one wall — one outer wall. 

3 (as Phineas Thatch): “Secure the crevice!” Phineas directs. And with a snigger, a couple of the Company move to do so. 

1: Pom is bombastically aboard, jibbering away, and Phineas moves ahead. 2: In no time at all they come to that grand promenade at the prow of the ship. 1: Through a door: there’s Ginsberg. Easy. 

2: He hasn’t really attempted to hide, it seems. 

1: Or if he did, he did a very bad job.

2: But he does have one tactic up his sleeve and only one. The boy… who he has roughly grabbed around the neck, a knife pressed to his flesh. 

1: The knife is a bit of a surprise. Even Spahr is visibly taken a bit aback. Ginsberg, Ginsberg… 

2: Dutiful servant to his employers for countless years. Always gentle, always obedient. 

1: A KNIFE, though? This… this is extreme. This is different. Spahr almost looks like he’s going to take the lead… 

3: …but Phineas holds up a hand. He directs the company to fan out around the circumference of the ballroom. 

2: They obey instantly, their energy now subtly sharpened. 

3: And Phineas, holding his hands away from the mace at his hip, takes a tentative step into the room. 

1: “Stop,” Ginsberg says. He seems like he wants to say something else, but he doesn’t… he doesn’t know quite what he’s trying to do here. That’s clear. He has no real objective. 

2: The boy senses his captor’s hesitation. [As Fleit Jr.] “Consector! Help!” 

1: Ginsberg squeezes the kid. The kid shuts up. Ginsberg looks upset at having squeezed the kid. He relaxes his grip on the kid. He’s not really a very good kidnapper. 

2: His face is a mask of tortured, conflicting emotions. 

1: This guy has seen some shit recently. 

2: Phineas can tell that Ginsberg doesn’t really want to be doing this. Well, this exact thing with the boy and the knife and the whole thing. Maybe he can use that. 

3 (as Thatch): “Ginsberg. Let’s talk.” 

1 (as Ginsberg): “You just stay right there, okay? Don’t… don’t come any closer.” 3 (Thatch): “I can stay here. I just want to talk. What are you trying to do here?”

1 (Ginsberg): “I’m trying to avoid this kind of thing, Thatch.” 

3 (Thatch): “What kind of thing?” 

1 (Ginsberg): “This STANDOFF. I don’t want this to be happening anymore than you do. You can just let me go. I’ll give him back to you, but just let me go.” Ginsberg knows this isn’t going to work. If Thatch were here by himself, it might. Maybe? One man to one man? But the entire Company is here and the media is there and the media has just heard him say that. The look that comes over his face makes that abundantly clear. 

2: Ginsberg readjusts his grip on the boy; his palms are sweaty. His eyes are darting nervously from window to window, back and forth across the room as though he’s contemplating making a break for it. Hurling himself out into the void. That’s one form of escape. 

1: He looks suddenly unspeakably frustrated. So SICK of all of this. He miserably drops the knife, lets go of the boy. “Fuck it,” he says. (Pom—”Hurumph!”—splutters in the background. The censors will have to take care of that one at home.) 

3 (Thatch): “You must know we can’t just let you go, Ginsberg.” 

1 (Ginsberg): “I KNOW that,” Ginsberg says. 

2: The boy has already been taken safely into custody. He immediately went running towards a few of the nearest company members. 

3 (Ginsberg): “I know there’s nothing I can do. Fine. I… I see. I understand.” He looks absolutely dead. He has resigned himself to this. He has been beaten. Whatever it is he wanted, he cannot have. Wherever it was he was going, he will never go. There is no way out of this for him.” 

2: Phineas feels a pang of sympathy. 

1: Spahr is watching him. [A pause.] Ginsberg turns. He walks to the windows nearby. The portholes. Looking out of them into the expanse. 

3: And Phineas closes the distance between Ginsberg and himself. He takes up a position just a few feet behind Ginsberg.

1: The boy, Milton Fleit Jr., is being escorted from the chamber by the Company. Spahr has sauntered just a little bit closer, keeping an eye on the situation, watching. 

3: And as Pom interviews the boy, Phineas tries a slightly different tack with Ginsberg. “You’re not completely lost, Ginsberg.” 

1 (Ginsberg): “No, I know exactly where I’m going,” Ginsgerg says. He turns, looking Phineas square in the face. “Back to the city with you. Into a cell.” 

3 (Thatch): “Even those of us who were Unlifts, who started with debts so deep it seemed… impossible… that you could ever climb out… there is always hope.” 

1 (Ginsberg): “What are you TALKING about, kid? You’re an Adsecla. I’m a servant. I have nothing. I’m going nowhere. Whatever debt I may have had is now irreversibly quintupled. I’m swimming in it. Drowning in Caenum. I will… I will NEVER break even. I can’t believe what I’ve done.” And he sits on the ground. 

3: And Phineas, taking a step closer and laying a silver, gauntleted hand on the manservant’s shoulder— 

1: Spahr is WATCHING. 

3 (Thatch): “We are, none of us, irredeemable in the eyes of the Trust.” 

1: And Ginsberg looks up at him, inspecting him, trying to see into him. “Do you really believe that?” Ginsberg says, getting slowly to his feet, brushing himself off. “Do you REALLY, honestly believe that?” The Company men are closing in. “Tell me you believe that, Thatch. TELL ME… and I’ll believe it, too.” 

3: Phineas takes a breath… 

[A long, indecisive silence. Then, suddenly:] 

1: —and the company swoops in and arrests Ginsberg. “Nicely done, Phineas,” Consector Spahr says, patting Phineas on the back. “Reasonably well handled. And swiftly, too. Why, I don’t think Pom has even expended a full reel yet! We had packed at least two.” 

3 (Thatch): “Well, thanks, sir. And… thank you for the opportunity. I… tremendously appreciate… the opportunity.”

1 (Spahr): “Of course. An easy one, but little steps, Phineas, little steps. Next time it’ll be more important still. We will raise the stakes for you next time. I’m… pleased. Though I must say…” He takes Phineas confidentially aside as they begin to circle back out of the chamber. “You need to dial it up just a little bit for the media. You are aware they’re listening? Little too much chit-chat there with Ginsberg. Little more directed towards the microphone in the future, you understand?” 

3 (Thatch): “Sure thing, sir. Uh, my mistake.” 

1 (Spahr): “Fantastic. 

3: And the Consector’s team exit the ballroom. 

2: They’re restless and jovial: high-energy the way they always are after the close of a successful mission. Looking forward to getting back someplace where they can have a nice drink and a meal. 

1: Company members ziplining back across toward the ship. Jedidiah Pom climbing back aboard his dinghy with his backpack associate, narrating all the while: [As Pom] “And the case has been closed MOST substantially, ladies and gentlemen: the criminal Ginsberg apprehended, clapped in irons, being escorted now back to his cell for secure incarceration and return to the city for trial and questioning.” The dingy, the company men, the ship, turn. The harpoons break free, drop, shed into the air, whispering down, disappearing into the clouds. The Consector’s vessel turns, oars fanning, and it whispers away into the clouds, and it is quiet once again. 

[The ship whooshes away.] 

2: It’s quiet for a good long while until the Consector’s disappears completely into the distance. Then… a flicker of movement. It looks as though a piece of the mica berg detaches itself from the face of the rock. 

1: Just above the prow of the cruise liner, a shard of rock splitting, soughing off, but it skirts out into the air strangely, almost like a living thing — turning, revealing a secret underside. 

3: Some oars of its own emerge and begin to flit against the cloudscape. [Fluttering of small oars as a ship powers up.]

2: A tiny stealth craft. 

1: A strange, limpet-like ship, separating from the rock, floating off into the air, turning, whispering off in the OPPOSITE direction, away from the Consector’s ship—going forth to its OWN destination. 

2: Having missed its opportunity here. 

1: Having FAILED its mission.