EXT. SPACE
TITLE CARD: A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away….
STAR WARS
Episode I
THE RISING FORCE
After the Light and Darkness War, the Galaxy was at peace, ruled by the glorious REPUBLIC and protected by the noble and wise JEDI KNIGHTS. But after a thousand years, corruption has infected the Republic. More and more senators, seduced by power and wealth, have allied themselves with special interests. The Republic is crumbling.
Infuriated at the recent spike of piracy across the Expansion Region, Mid Rim, and Outer Rim Territories, several hundred worlds have signed the Treaty of Concordance with the AXIS OF SPAARTI, an isolationist faction that successfully seceded from the Republic with cloned soldiers.
With massive cloning repositories and several leading shipbuilders and armament manufacturers at their disposal, the Concordance hopes to sweep across the Galaxy with its forces to overthrow and replace the corrupt Republic….
TILT DOWN
To the planet Jhantor, a world blanketed in cloud.
EXT. JHANTOR — CLOUD SEA — DAY
There’s a break in the topmost layer of yellow oxide cloud, revealing Granicus, the capital of Jhantor. The magnificent gleaming city’s perched, mushroom-like, on a tall spire, which disappears deep into the misty surface of the planet. The tranquility of this nebulous idyll’s broken by the wail of ion engines. Fourteen Short-Range Attack Fighters burst from a cumulus range, flying in tight formation, sunlight glinting off their solar panels. Banking steeply, they head toward the capital city.
EXT. GRANICUS — PLAZA OF THE DADERS — DAY
On a large, austere platform stands COS DASHIT, Atha Prime of the Supreme Synod and leader of the Axis of Spaarti. A man with a white mustache hanging over his lip, adorned in a pearlescent cloak and red robes, he possesses four fingers on each hand and milky white eyes, marking him as an Arkanian. Standing at rigid attention on his right are several generals, dressed in the white-&-gray uniform of the realm. Five lower-ranking athas sit off to the side. The glass canyon of the Plaza’s filled with a hundred rows of assembled civilian supporters.
They all gaze skyward as the fourteen SRAFs scream overhead in an impressive barrel-roll maneuver. As the sound of the fightercraft resonates through the Plaza, a light wind blows the great gold-&-black banner of the Axis, creating a subtle flapping sound. The atha’s amplified voice cuts through the quiet, drawing the crowd’s attention back to him.
DASHIT
The Galactic Republic is dead. Ruthless socialists, driven by greed and the lust for power, have replaced enlightenment with oppression, and free trade with “rule by the people”. The Republic is crumbling into barbarism throughout its million worlds. (beat) But from the celestial equator to the farthest reaches of the Great Rift, seventy sectors have united with us in a common war against the tyranny of our foe.
To the rear of the Plaza, watching the spectacle over the shoulder of an enraptured partisan, stands SEIG OXUS, a tall blond man in his twenties. He seems interested in what the atha has to say, but keeps furtively glancing around as if someone were following him.
DASHIT
(cont’d) Upon this war depends the survival of the noble races of the Galaxy. Upon this war depends the life and long continuity of our civilization. Not since the No-Space Conflict has our destiny been placed in such a balance. This is to be the most magnificent campaign of all! You have never been called without doing something to be remembered, something notable and striking. This is the first frontier and foundation stone in the great wall of our new Concordance; I can’t but consider it as an epoch in history.
Dashit’s speech at a close, the crowd cheers. Oxus moves quickly away from the Plaza, passing through several check stations, where he’s forced to show his identification.
INT. NIGHTCLUB
Oxus walks into the transparisteel-&-chromium splendour of one of Granicus’ famous nightclubs. Moving to the long mirrored bar, he sits next to a rough-looking Bothan male in a fur-lined jacket and gold jewellery, BOMOJE ESPAA.
OXUS
Your glass is empty.
Oxus activates a small intercom set in the bar counter.
OXUS
(into intercom) A dantic and…
He looks in Espaa’s glass. The Bothan shakes his head.
OXUS
(cont’d) Just a dantic, then. (beat) Espaa, it’s not like you to refuse a drink. You’re going to give the Trade Federation a bad name.
An aperture opens in the counter in front of Oxus, a drink rising from it. Oxus activates a signal jammer hidden in one of his cuff links.
INT. NIGHTCLUB/BAR OBSERVATION CENTRE
A cyborg controller sits in front of a row of monitors, observing the nightclub patrons, eavesdropping on their conversations. As the cameras/microphones go dead, the controller manipulates a few controls on their console to no avail.
INT. NIGHTCLUB
Espaa leans in close to Oxus.
ESPAA
Seig, we’ve got problems. They’ve just grounded all spacecraft, including Federation freighters. Even the ships under Axis registry can’t move. Something big is up.
OXUS
Isn’t anything moving?
ESPAA
Military ships, but—
OXUS
I’m afraid they’re already moving against the Republic. I’ve got to get word back.
They’re interrupted by the arrival of several policemen. Each of the policemen’s an identical clone, distinguished only by rank insignia. Giving Espaa a desperate look, Oxus tensely but coolly leaves the bar for a route of escape as the clones rush to block the exits and check the clientele for ID. Espaa takes Oxus’ abandoned drink, gripping the glass tightly.
EXT. SPACE — ALDERAAN
Throneworld of an old, wealthy frontier kingdom, Alderaan’s a gorgeous green-&-turquoise terrestrial planet. This beauty’s offset by the massive ring-shaped battle station encircling the planet.
EXT. ALDERAAN — ALDERA — DAY
Situated upon a large island on a lake, bordered by snow-capped mountains, is picturesque Aldera, Alderaan’s capital city. Pristine white Art Deco domes and spires rise from the ground, co-existing in perfect balance with the surrounding natural terrain.
EXT. ALDERA ROYAL PALACE/PALACE GARDENS — DAY
In a large courtyard we find BEN LARS. A lean nineteen-year-old with fair skin and blue eyes, dark brown hair cropped short save for a single long braid worn behind his right ear, he’s dressed in a militaristic double-breasted black jumpsuit and jackboots — the customary uniform of a Jedi apprentice. He stands, hands held behind him, surrounded by intricately arranged flower-&-fern beds, though his thoughts aren’t on the lovely flora.
Someone enters the gardens. Approaching Ben from behind, he stops, keeping a respective distance between them. Ben turns to face the newcomer. He’s a tall, powerfully built man, fifty-two years old, with a trimmed, graying beard and long hair worn back in a half-ponytail. He’s dressed similarly to Ben, though in addition he wears a long black robe/tabard over his jumpsuit. This’ the Jedi master QUI-GON JINN, Ben’s instructor.
BEN
I was beginning to think you weren’t coming (bowing) master.
Reaching to his belt, Qui-Gon unclips his lightsaber.
QUI-GON
Let’s begin.
Bringing the metal hilt to bear, he manipulates the activation plate set above the handgrip. With a snap-hiss, a laser beam shoots out, freezing to form a pulsating blue-white blade 0.91 metres in length. Taking his own lightsaber from his belt, Ben engages a blade identical in hue and length. Saluting, the two Jedi enter battle stance.
They circle, sizing each other up. Qui-Gon strikes, bringing his blade down on Ben. Ben parries the blow then ripostes; Qui-Gon dodges the counterattack. They circle again. This time Ben strikes. Pressing the attack, he drives Qui-Gon back, but fails to penetrate his defenses. Overextending himself, Ben leaves his left forearm vulnerable. Qui-Gon lands a hit.
BEN
OW!
Dialled down to its lowest setting, the lightsaber has no cutting power; it merely smarts. Ben leaps back, shaking his stinging arm.
QUI-GON
I should never have landed that blow.
The worst of the pain gone, Ben grips his lightsaber with both hands again.
QUI-GON
(cont’d) I sense an unusual amount of unease here for something as trivial as routine negotiations.
BEN
It’s not about the negotiations, Qui-Gon. It’s something … elsewhere … elusive.
QUI-GON
Don’t centre on your anxiety, Ben. Keep your concentration here where it belongs.
BEN
Master Yoda said I should be mindful of the future.
Before that final word has time to linger in the air, Qui-Gon viciously attacks Ben. The apprentice barely manages to block the flurry of brutal strikes. Locking his lightsaber around Ben’s, Qui-Gon wrenches the hilt from the boy’s grasp, then kicks Ben in the chest, sending him sprawling.
QUI-GON
But not at the expense of the moment. Be mindful of the living Force, my young apprentice.
Deactivating his lightsaber and replacing it on his belt, he offers a hand to Ben. Sitting up, Ben’s visibly angry. Biting his tongue, he takes Qui-Gon’s hand.
INT. ALDERA ROYAL PALACE/HALLWAY OUTSIDE HIGH COUNCIL CHAMBERS — DAY
Two young girls, seven-year-old CELLY and five-year-old TIA, run yelling through the long palace corridors, their little footsteps echoing throughout.
INT. ALDERA ROYAL PALACE/HIGH COUNCIL CHAMBERS — DAY
The high council chambers’ a dim, cool space projecting an aura of time-worn comfort and security. In the distance, the children can be heard shouting. KING KAYOS, silver-haired with a tanned, leathery face, motions for one of his aides to shut the partially closed doors. He’s in the middle of negotiations between Qui-Gon, who serves as ambassador for the Galactic Republic, and the delegates of the Great Houses of the Naboo. The twenty-three Humans sit in overstuffed chairs encircling a large ring-shaped table. A large, sallow-eyed delegate, AAY ZAVOS, speaks.
ZAVOS
(cont’d) Milord, House Kroam is with you, but you must understand, these terms are simply unacceptable. Republic trade restrictions are very unfavourable, and we, of course, favour our independence….
Ben, standing to Qui-Gon’s right, sneaks a glance at an archaic analog wall chronometre. He’s clearly bored by the dry proceedings.
INT. ALDERA ROYAL PALACE/HALLWAY OUTSIDE HIGH COUNCIL CHAMBERS — DAY
The day’s negotiations at a close, the delegates file out. Celly and Tia, the king’s two young daughters, storm through the exiting delegates, rushing onto Kayos’ lap. The king’s obviously very adoring of the two young princesses. He tosses Celly into the air, catching her.
TIA
Me too! Me too!
CELLY
Bail’s leaving! Bail’s leaving and you’ve got to say goodbye!
The king picks up Tia, spins her 'round, then puts her down.
KAYOS
Okay, dearheart. Go tell your mother and your brother that I’m on my way.
The two girls run out of the chambers and are heard screaming down the hallway. The king starts out, then stops, turning to the two Jedi.
KAYOS
Qui-Gon, my son is leaving for the academy at Chathos. Won’t you come and wish him well? It would mean a lot to him. He truly idolizes you, you know.
QUI-GON
Of course, milord.
BEN
(to Qui-Gon) If you won’t be needing me….
Qui-Gon acquiesces with a nod. Ben stays behind as his master and the king head for the doors.
EXT. ALDERA ROYAL PALACE/COURTYARD — DAY
A large, chrome-plated, four-seat landspeeder sits gleaming in the sun-soaked courtyard. PRINCE BAIL PRESTOR ORGANA, fourteen years old, possessing dark eyes and dusky complexion, is embracing his mother, QUEEN MAZICIA, a warm, silver-haired, but amazingly youthful matron. Celly and Tia jump around inside the speeder, hindering the efforts of a servant to pack several cases.
Bail greets the king as he approaches with the Jedi.
BAIL
I’ll miss you, father.
KAYOS
The semester will be over before you know it. You’ll have a grand time. There are so many new things to learn. I wish I was going.
Kayos gives Bail a fatherly smile and squeeze on the shoulder. Qui-Gon stands rather formally to one side. The prince moves to the Jedi master, bowing before him.
QUI-GON
May your studies do you honour.
Bail can only manage an awkward smile before returning to his parents at the speeder.
MAZICIA
Hurry, Bail. You must make it to Yuell before nightfall.
His two sisters scramble out of the speeder as the servant helps Bail into the back seat. The servant climbs into the seat beside him, and the speeder starts up with a low whine. The prince waves to his family as the driver slowly guides the speeder out of the courtyard.
EXT. ALDERA ROYAL PALACE/BALCONY — SUNSET
Seated atop the stone railing, Ben watches the sun set over the distant mountains.
BEN
(sarcastic) The negotiations were short.
Almost as if materializing from thin air, Qui-Gon joins Ben on the balcony.
QUI-GON
The Alderaan system maintained a policy of isolation for nearly four-thousand years; their government was an absolute monarchy for nearly as long. (crossing arms) The road to democracy’s a long one, but the Naboo will find their place within the Republic.
Turning, Qui-Gon leaves. Ben’s gaze remains on the setting sun, lost in thought.
