SCENE 1.

F/X: 	THE LONELY AND ERIE SOUND OF DEEP SPACE. JEMIMA FLOATING IN HER SPACESUIT AMONGST THE NOTHINGNESS 

JEMIMA:	(NEEDLESSLY CHIRPY) Engineer’s log. Stardate… today. I decided it might be a nice idea to start keeping a diary! After all, there’s been quite a lot going on lately. Finally, after three long years travelling to Pluto; I found out this morning that I was nearly there. However that was at the same time as my supply relay Pod Zero; who went crazy in deep space; smashed into the ship, breaching the hull and forcing me to abandon ship. (LESS NEEDLESSLY CHIRPY) This means I’m now floating around aimless in space in a most peculiar way, scared shockless and trying to distract myself by keeping a diary for the first time since I was 14, when I was desperate for Theo Brown to kiss me whilst worrying about getting spots on my tongue. All in all, I’m starting to think this might be a bit of a crisis…

POD:				This isn’t a crisis!

JEMIMA:			Pod, thank the long thin duke! How long have 
you been listening in?

POD:				Oh, only a couple of minutes.

JEMIMA:			Why didn’t you say anything?

POD:	I wanted to see if you were going to mention me in your diary. Which you haven’t. Which is rude. Especially given that I’m your number-one-go-to-pod-in-any-crisis-even-though-this-isn’t-a-crisis. 

JEMIMA:	Then what is this, Pod? 

POD:	A challenging situation. I was considering going to someone else. Even though I’m your number-one-go-to-pod-in-any-crisis-even-though-this-isn’t-a-crisis.

JEMIMA:	You mean you haven’t gone to anyone else yet!?

POD:	Give me half a chance Jemima! I haven’t even run an assessment yet!

JEMIMA:	Why not?

 POD:	I was getting distracted with your diary. Who’s Theo Brown?

JEMIMA:	None of your business. 

POD:	Did you snog him, or was he put off by the hideous spots on your tongue?

JEMIMA:	Pod! The crisis! 

POD:	It’s not a crisis! 

JEMIMA:	Pod!

POD:	Ok, ok, let’s do the assessment. (FILES BEING ACCESSED) Where is it? Ah here we are – opening file 674321B – UKSA Crisis Checklist. 

JEMIMA:	I thought you said this wasn’t a crisis! 

POD:	Not now Jemima, can’t you see I’m assessing a crisis. Now let’s get check-listing… “Section 1: Engineer Status. Is your engineer all kaputski?”

JEMIMA:	Is that really what it says? 

POD:	It’s the gist of it. I’m paraphrasing because of the crisis. So how are you feeling? Kaputski?

JEMIMA: 	Nope, I’m just spinning around in circles and trying not to vomit. 

POD:	And is that working?

JEMIMA:	Not really. I’ve already puked once. I’ve got chunder sloshing about my chin and I’m pretty sure some of it’s dribbled into my armpit. 

POD:	I’ll put you down as “stable”. Moving on to section 2… Ah great! This is my favourite bit as it’s all about me. “Pod Status.” What shall I put? I think I’ll put down “On fire” as I’m a real hep cat. 

JEMIMA:	Shouldn’t you go into a bit more detail?

POD:	Nah… I’m pretty sure that’s all any assessor will need to know. They’ll see that and know I had everything totally under control. 
JEMIMA:	Pod, you’re on fire. 

POD:	I know sweet sister. 

JEMIMA:	No Pod, you’re actually on fire! Totally! With flames and everything. You just span into my field of vision and you look like a flambé in a crematorium. 

POD:	Hmmm… That explains the delicious stench of frying chicken. What else can you see?

JEMIMA:	Just blackness. 

POD:	So just space? 

JEMIMA:	Yeah. Mostly space. I thought I saw some kind of giant space transportation structure in the distance at one point. But I was probably just hallucinating... 

POD:	Or going crazy, never rule it out.

JEMIMA:	Spinning around again. You’ll be in my sights in a mo. Yep, there you are. 

POD:	How’s it looking?

JEMIMA:	Still pretty firey. 

POD:	And can you see anything else? Like a big long rope?

JEMIMA:	I can. 

POD:	And what’s it attached to?
 
JEMIMA: 	Some fire. 
 
POD:	Damn. I was rather banking on that being attached to me so you could drag yourself in and put out the fire. 
 
JEMIMA:	Can you come and get me? 

POD:	Nope. Fuel’s on fire too. 

JEMIMA:	This is a crisis isn’t it?

POD:	No, nope, not at all, nuh huh, not bad, not great, but fine, everything’s fine here, thanks for asking. 

JEMIMA:	Pod. Am I floating in space with no chance of survival?
 
POD:	Of course not!
 
JEMIMA:	Then what am I doing?
 
POD:	You’re floating in space with little to no chance of survival. It’s quite different. Anyway, I’m sure you’ll find some way of saving yourself. 
 
JEMIMA: 	But you’re Pod! My Pod! You’re supposed to be the one saving me! You’re my number-one-go-to-pod-in-any-crisis-even-though-this-isn’t-a-crisis!

POD:	Well that’s not so easy just now, Jemima. 

JEMIMA:	Why?

POD:	Because I’ve totted up the scores on the assessment and it does rather look like this has developed into something of a crisis. Which means I might actually need to get a teensy-weensy bit of outside support. I’ll just be popping along…

JEMIMA:	What?! What am I supposed to do in the meantime?

POD:	Have a float! Enjoy a barth slurpy. Try not to worry about the explosion you can’t hear. 

JEMIMA:	But I can still see it!

POD:	Then why not close your eyes?

F/X:		(D) EXPLOSION OVER THE COMM

JEMIMA:	And actually I can hear it over the comm.  

POD:	Try closing your ears?

JEMIMA: 	That’s not something humans do.

POD:	Groovy. Just groovy. Hep cat out. 

FADE

SCENE 2.

F/X: 	BACK ON THE POD. ELECTRIC SHORTS, ERROR BEEPS AND THE SOUND OF A FEW FIRES ON FIRE. 

CLOACA: 	Chirp, Chirp, Chirp!!

POD:	Ah, Cloaca. My sweet, seemingly indestructible crew mate. If it were only that simple.

CLOACA: 	Chirp, Chirp, Chirp!!

POD:	No, you’re right, you’re right. I just need to play it as cool as a zucchini and not let onto anybody that I’ve lost Jemima.

CLOACA: 	Chirp, Chirp, Chirp!!

POD:	Look if this all goes wrong Cloaca, I’m going to need you to pretend to be a neurotic, mopey unqualified space engineer when we land… Just so I don’t get in trouble with the machine guild. You can puff out your feathers and make yourself look bigger, right?    

CLOACA: 	Chirp, Chirp, Chirp!!

POD:	That’s my girl! Okay then. Here I go.

F/X: 	COMMUNICATOR CALLING. ONCE. COMM IS ANSWERED, QUICKLY. SOUND OF A PARTY.

JOHN: 	Good afternoon this is Command & Control, John speaking, how can I help?
 
POD:	John! That was quick!
 
JOHN:	What was?
 
POD:	How you answered then.
 
JOHN: 	Are you sure?
 
POD:	Yeah, it usually rings for ages while the connection is painstakingly forged across the vast barren reach of the galaxy. 
 
JOHN:	Well, what can I say? I’m on fire. 
 
POD:	You too?
 
JOHN:	What?
 
POD:	What?
 
JOHN:	What?
 
POD:	What?
 
JOHN:	Look Pod, where are you? We’ve already started! 
 
POD:	Started what?
 
JOHN:	What? 

POD:	What? 
 
JOHN:	Is something wrong?
 POD:	Nahhh, not at all, not in the slightest, everything’s cool Daddio. Real smooth. I just thought I’d check in, see how it’s hanging. What you up to? 
 
JOHN:	Erm… Having a party? That little political snafu we were having got a lot worse. So we’re all here now!
 
POD:	Really who’s there…

F/X:		(D) AN EXPLOSION.
 
JOHN:	Pod, was that an explosion?
 
POD:	No, I don’t think so. What did it sound like? 
 
JOHN:	An explosion. 
 
POD:	Care to be any more specific? 
 
F/X:		(D) ANOTHER EXPLOSION.
 
JOHN:	It sounded just like that. A sort boomy, bangy, explody sound. 
 
POD:	Couldn’t have been me my old mucker. No explosions here. But I was wondering, hypothetically speaking, and with no admission of guilt or even care in fact because I’m wonderfully relaxed about everything that isn’t taking place right now because we’re all fine here thanks for asking… I was just wondering what you might do if you, yourself, were a pod and perhaps just a little bit on fire and exploding; whilst your engineer floated about in the void all alone and untethered?

JOHN:	Pod… Is something wrong?

POD:	(SNAPS) TELL ME WHAT TO DO!

JOHN:	This is very unlike you. 

POD:	(CALMING) Sorry… sorry… I didn’t mean to snap John. I apologise. I really do. Profusely. 

JOHN:	Is Jemima there?

POD:	She’s… nearby.

JOHN:	Can I speak to her? 

POD:	She can’t talk right now John… 

JOHN:	Why?

POD:	Err.... Covered in vomit. 

JOHN:			Yeah, that’s so Jemima 

POD:	So John… Given my hypothetical question… Any advice? 

JOHN:	Well, it’s a corker, that’s for sure. Let me confer with Janet.

POD:	Oh not Janet… anyone but Janet… I need advice, not disgusting recipes from some insipid…

F/X: 					TOOT OF A LITTLE PART HORN.

JANET:			Helloooo!

POD:				(CHEERY) Hurrah! It’s Janet! Hi Janet!

JANET:			When are you Pid?!

POD:				“When are you Pid?” Are you drunk, Janet?

JANET:			Hey, I’ve only had half a glass of babycham!

JOHN:	Oh Pid, you’ve only gone and offended Janet. After all the effort she’s put in too. 

POD:	Look, are you going to give me any advice or not?

JOHN:			Hic!

POD:				Shock this!

F/X:					COMM LINE GOES DEAD. 

FADE

SCENE 3.

F/X:					LITTLE BLEEPING NOISE. 

JEMIMA:	(SINGS) And if one green bottle should accidentally fall, there’ll be nine hundred and seventy nine thousand green bottles sitting on the wall… (SIGH) Engineer’s log: Additional. Stardate… 20 minutes later. Not a lot going on out here except for a little bleeping noise. Note to self: Ask Pod about the little bleeping noise. 

POD:				What little bleeping noise is that? 

JEMIMA:			Ah you’re back… This little bleeping noise. 

POD:				Nope getting nothing.

JEMIMA:	It’ll happen any moment. Any moment now. Any… moment… nooooowwwwwwwww….

POD:				Can’t hear it.

F/X:	(SIMULTANEOUSLY, WITH POD) LITTLE BLEEPING NOISE. 

JEMIMA:			That was it then. You talked over it.

POD:				Did I?

JEMIMA:			Yeah! 

POD:				What did it sound like?

JEMIMA:			A little bleeping noise. 

POD:				What? Like this? Bleep. 

JEMIMA:			No.

POD:				This? Bleep

JEMIMA:			No.

POD:				This? Bleep.

F/X:	(SIMULTANEOUSLY, WITH POD) LITTLE BLEEPING NOISE. 

JEMIMA:			You talked over the bleeping noise again! 

POD:	Tarnation! Still not to worry. I’m pretty sure those suits only come fitted with one little bleeping noise. 

JEMIMA:			Yeah? 

POD:				Yeah.

JEMIMA:			What does it mean?

POD:				Nothing. 

JEMIMA:			Nothing bleeps for nothing, Pod. 

POD:	Mmmm philosophy. Ok, right, well… it might mean your air is about to run out. 

JEMIMA:			What?!

F/X:	LITTLE BLEEPING NOISE. 

POD:	Oooh! I heard it that time. It’s definitely a little bleeping noise. How long can you hold your breath for? 

JEMIMA:	Shock it Pod, I need rescuing! I need rescuing right now! What did John say? 

POD:	Nothing of any use. I’m pretty sure he was drunk. Which is just downright rude given the crisis. 

JEMIMA:	Pod! I’m dying! Please… please, please, please… find help.

F/X:	LITTLE BLEEPING NOISE. 

POD:	Shhh Jemima! Let me think. Ok, thunked. Right… I’ve tried the people who should be of help and that didn’t work… So maybe I’ll come at this from a different angle…

F/X: 	COM CALLING. ONCE. ANSWERED, QUICKLY. SOUND OF A PARTY.

MUM:	Helloooooo! Hic.

POD:	By calling someone who is of no use whatsoever. 

JEMIMA:	Mum?!! Why have you called my mum?

MUM:	Charming. 

POD:	Alice! You asked answered quickly. What are you up to?

MUM:	Nothing… why would I be up to anything? I’m not at a party.

JEMIMA:	Have you been drinking?

MUM:	No. Not at all. Not in the slightest. Except maybe for a little pint of absinthe.

JOHN:	(OFF. IN THE BACKGROUND) Hey Alice, come back to the party. Gandecha is going to do that trick he does with the fax machine.

F/X:	LITTLE BLEEPING NOISE. 

JEMIMA:	Mum…

MUM:	Hic. 

JEMIMA:	Mum… I’m in a little bit of trouble…

POD:	But it’s not a crisis! 

JEMIMA:	There’s been… there’s been an accident. And I don’t think it’s looking good. So I just want to say… to say… that I’m sorry. I travelled so far… and I got so close… but I failed… So yes… I’m sorry. I’m sorry for every time I failed you… Failed myself… I know I should have done better… been a better daughter… but that doesn’t mean… It doesn’t… I… I… I love you mum. (PAUSE) Mum? (PAUSE) Mum?!

POD:	She’s hung up. I don’t think she meant to, but the problem is... she’s hammered. 

JEMIMA: 			Oh shock this!

POD:	Look it doesn’t matter anyhow because I have good news! The fire is out!

JEMIMA:	What? How? Why? 

POD:	It’s just one of those space things… Nature abhors a vacuum and a vacuum abhors nature. So all the fire went bye bye when it couldn’t suck on any more oxygen. 

JEMIMA:	So now we’ve got no fuel and no oxygen? 

POD: 	And no fire… Which is the fundamental point here and the one for which I should be applauded.

JEMIMA:	(INCREASINGLY AUTHORATIVE) I’m not having this. I’m not having this at all… You may be dead in the water Pod, but I’m not.

POD:	I’m not sure time will agree with you.

JEMIMA:	I’m Jemima Margaret Belafonte. Engineer Class 3 in the UK Space Agency. I’ve spent years in space and I’m not going out like this. This is my moment. This is my time. I’m going to save you. And me.

POD:	And my chicken?

JEMIMA:	And by default, your chicken. Pod, we’re going to complete this mission… We’re going to turn off that light bulb. We’re going to get to Pluto if it’s the last thing we do. And then we’re going home. 

POD: 	Actually, I don’t think going home was ever stated in the mission parameters. 

JEMIMA:	Ok then, how about: “We’re going to get to Pluto if it’s the last thing we do”?

POD:	Well, that’s more the likelihood. 

JEMIMA:	Now get me John on the line, pronto. 

POD:	How can I say no when you’re hanging tough? Patching you through now boss!

JEMIMA:	And keep your beak out of it Pod. This is mine. All mine. 

POD:	I won’t say a word. 

F/X: 	COM CALLING. ONCE. ANSWERED, QUICKLY. SOUND OF A PARTY.

JOHN:			Pud! Whatsuuuuup?!

JEMIMA:			John, this is Jemima!

JOHN:	Nopes. Nots talkin’ to you. You’re always crossh. Only gonna speak to Pud. 

POD JEMIMA:	For shock’s sake! Fine. Okay. (IMPERSONATES POD) Oh hi John my old mucker. I like chicken. Bleep sound. How’s the home brew? And the sex life with my… Jemima’s ex… going? Different bleep sound. Etc. Etc. Glitch. Glitch. 

JOHN:	You alright there Pad? You soundsh drunksh.

POD JEMIMA: 	(HERSELF) How on earth could I be? (CATCHES HERSELF, IMPERSONATES POD) How on earth could I be drunk? Bleep Sound. I’m a machine? I haven’t even got a mouth. Or a soul (PAUSE) Bleep sound.

JOHN:	Now now, Cod. I can’t be talking with my mouth to yours if you’re drunkish. I thinksh you gonna have to put Jemima back on. 

MUM:	(OFF. IN THE BACKGROUND) Hey John, come back to the party. We need help getting Gandecha out of the fax machine.

POD JEMIMA:	You want to speak to Jemima!?

JOHN:	Yesh! Only Jenina will do, you lush. 

JEMIMA:	Erm… Comm to mute. 

F/X:		COMM TO MUTE.

JEMIMA:	Pod, a little help?

POD:	(EXCITED) I thought you’d never ask! I do such a good impression of you. Just listen to this.

F/X:	POD SOUNDS JUST LIKE JEMIMA. ALMOST LIKE THE PERSON VOICING JEMIMA IS NOW VOICING POD, BUT WITH ALL THE AUDIO EFFECTS STILL PRESENT. 

JEMIMA POD:	Hello it’s me Jemima!

JEMIMA:	Tsk, sounds nothing like me!

POD:	Comm up.

F/X:	COMM ACTIVATES.

JEMIMA POD:	John! It’s me! Jemima! I hate you! But not as much as I hate myself. I really need your help. We’re out of fuel. And oxygen.

JOHN:	That’s an easy conunderer… conindera…. Riddle that is Jumper-ma. Get the keysh for the reserves from Pod Zero.

POD:	Of course! The keys to the reserves! 

JOHN:	Who’s thish now? 

POD JEMIMA:	(COUGHS) This is me Pod. And of course – the reserves! Bleep Sound. If we can access them we can limp into Pluto! Why didn’t I think of that? High pitched Beep Sound. Perhaps it’s because I’m so monstrously glitch-ridden!

JEMIMA POD:	And this is me, Jemima. Perhaps I might have thought of it too if I wasn’t so busy keeping a teenage diary about boys that didn’t kiss me due to my horrific levels of Jemimaness. 

POD JEMIMA:	Bleep Sound. Hurrah!

JEMIMA POD:	Mopey face. Hurrah!	

JEMIMA:	Comm off! (TIRED SIGH)

F/X:		COMM SWITCHES OFF.

POD:	Well, I think we nailed that. 

JEMIMA: 	So how are we going to get the key, Pod?!

POD:	Hold on, let me magnify my visual circuits. Well as luck would have it, I can see it! Lurking in the main hulk of what remains of Pod Zero. All I really need is someone to grab it for me. Preferably someone small, quick, agile and with wings. But as we don’t know anybody with those abilities I guess we’re screwed…

CLOACA:  	(OVER THE COM) Chirp, Chirp, Chirp!!

JEMIMA: 	Cloaca! My pet bird that I haven’t mentioned once since she arrived five months ago, but always chirps along happily in the background.

POD:	Exactly! And due to her disturbingly unnatural powers of survival she’s absolutely fine and currently chewing on a live power cable. 

F/X:		DRAMATIC MUSIC BEGINS TO SWELL.

JEMIMA:	Can she do it Pod? Can she really do it?

F/X:	DRAMATIC MUSIC BEGINS TO SWELL MORE. SOME SQUARKING.

POD:	We can but only hope.

F/X:	SOME SQUARKING AS SHE TAKES FLIGHT. POD DESCRIBES THE ACTION. WE HEAR THE SOUND EFFECTS OF HER JOUNEY.

POD:	She’s off! Flying through the cold empty vacuum of space. Banking left and right through the debris. Diving and gliding through what remains of Pod Zero. The copyright free film score I’m playing through my speakers to heighten all this tension begins to swell! She just needs to avoid the still active automatic Pod primary defence lasers... 

F/X:		LASER SHOTS. EXPLOSIONS.

POD:	And she avoids them with a stunning pirouette! She’s almost there. Almost there. She’s about to duck into the main hulk of Pod Zero...

SCENE 4. INSIDE POD ZERO
F/X:	CLOACA HOPS AROUND INSIDE WHAT IS LEFT OF POD ZERO. A SPARK! POD ZERO COMES TO LIFE!
 
CLOACA:  	Chirp, Chirp, Chirp!!
 
F/X:	POD ZERO TALKS WEAKILY AND LOW PICHED. HIS VOICE SLOWING DOWN. HE IS DYING.
 
POD ZERO:  	Hello my little friend. I already know why you are here… What you have come for….
 
CLOACA:  	Chirp, Chirp, Chirp!!
 
POD ZERO:  	They are reckless and rude. They are unprofessional. They both only think about themselves; nobody else. I fear what they will do on Pluto. I fear for the entire solar system.
 
CLOACA:  	Chirp, Chirp, Chirp!!
 
POD ZERO:	I pray to the machine God that I am wrong.
 
CLOACA:  	Chirp, Chirp, Chirp! 
 
POD ZERO:	(POWERING DOWN DYING) That’s easy for you to say. Fly true my friend, but beware of the true monsters, for they fly with you… YA! YAAA! YAAAAAAAAAAAAA!
 
CLOACA:  	Chirp, Chirp, Chirp!

F/X:	BACK IN SPACE. THE LITTLE BLEEPING NOISE IN JEMIMAS SPACESUIT
SCENE 5.

F/X: 	THE POD HATCH OPENS. THE LOW HUM AND BLEEPS THAT YOU WOULD EXPECT FROM THE INTERIOR OF A KNACKERED SPACE-GOING VESSEL. THE BEEPS CONTINUE.

POD:	Welcome home Jemima! Sorry I didn’t hang a banner. You better stay in your spacesuit. Although we’ve got more fuel thanks to Cloaca opening the reserves, we’ve still got zero oxygen, and I don’t like the idea of your lungs being sucked through your esophagus. I’m certainly not going to be the one that pushes them back in for you. I’ve got no arms. 

JEMIMA:			Ergggh. This place is a mess. 

POD:				Sorry about that. Been on fire a bit.  

JEMIMA:	So how long until we can touch down on Pluto?

POD:	Just making the re-entry calculations now.

JEMIMA:			So this is it. We’re finally here....

POD:	Oh by the way you might want to strap yourself in. Planet re-entries have never really been my strong suit. 

JEMIMA:	But the seatbelt is broken...

POD:	In fact this is the first time I’ve ever done one! 

F/X: 	AN INCREDIBLE SOUNDSCAPE DEPICTING THE MOMENT OUR HEROES CRASH LAND ON PLUTO. SURELY NO-ONE COULD SURVIVE THIS… SURELY?

POD:	Here we go!!

F/X:	EVERYTHING THAT COULD RATTLE AND SHAKE ON THE POD STARTS TO RATTLE AND SHAKE. VERY LOUDLY.

POD:	(SHOUTING) Going smoothly so far!

JEMIMA:	(D) (EYES SHUT) Don’t die. Don’t die. Don’t die. Don’t die....

F/X:	SOMETHING LARGE AND METALIC SHEERS OFF ONE SIDE OF THE POD

POD:	Ehh, I probably didn’t need that anyway.

F/X:	SOMETHING LARGE AND METALIC SHEERS OFF OTHE OTHER SIDE.

POD:	And that’ll sting come morning....

JEMIMA:	(D) (EYES SHUT) Damit Theo, why didn’t you just kiss me and my spotty tongue! It could have all been so different! 

F/X:	POD IS LITERALLY FALLING APART!!

POD:	Primary brakes failed. Secondary brakes failed. Better just aim for a soft pile of jagged rocks.
F/X:	THE SUIT OXYGEN BEEPS ARE GETTING MORE RAPID!

JEMIMA:	(COUGHING) Pod, I’ve almost run out of suit oxygen! 

F/X:	THE RE-ENTRY THOUGH THE ATMOSPHERE ISN’T PRETTY. THEY HEAD STRAIGHT FOR THE GROUND! THEY SCREAM TOGETHER! 

JEMIMA:	ARGHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!
 
POD:	WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!
 
F/X		EPIC CRASH!!! POD IS BEYOND REPAIR.

	SCENE 6: WE’RE FINALLY ON PLUTO
 
POD:				Jemima… 
 
JEMIMA:			(COUGHING, GROANING) Yes Pod?
 
POD:				We’re here. 
 
F/X: 	CLOACA SQUARKS. WHAT’S LEFT OF POD FALLS APART. 
 
THE QUEEN:	(RECORDING, TRUMPETS PLAY) British subjects… You may now kneel. Welcome to Pluto. As your Queen I would like to welcome you to the new home of the United Kingdom.
 
JEMIMA:	What?
 
POD:	I’ve been trying to find the best way to break this to you. I really have… It’s just that the perfect moment never came up. Thing is Jemima. (PAUSE) Well, you’re not going to like this...

F/X: 	JEMIMA TAKES OFF HER HELMET
 
JEMIMA:	Pod? What is it? What’s happening on Pluto?
 
POD:	I mean... you’re really not going to like this.
 
TO BE CONCLUDED NEXT SERIES...