"Pilot": 05-16-08

INT. BRIDGE

Medium shot showing the Tactical station. Hawkes is working, deep in concentration.
We hear someone shifting repeatedly in their seat.

Hawkes looks up.

Shot of Pyrafox from Hawke's POV. He appears agitated.

Shot of Hawkes as he steps away from the Tactical station and walks over to the Navigation station.

HAWKES
Do you need relieved, Ensign?

PYRAFOX
(awkwardly)
No, sirrr.

HAWKES
Is there a problem with your station?

PYRAFOX
No, sirrr.

Hawkes waits patiently for several moments.

HAWKES
Our situation concerns you?

PYRAFOX
(nods slowly)
What if we can't get back, sirrr?

There is a pause before Hawkes answers. His expression changes little, but there is a spark of determination in his eyes.

HAWKES
We will, son.

Pyrafox relaxes a bit.

PYRAFOX
How do you know?

HAWKES
(calmly confident)
Because we will.

Pyrafox watches Hawkes with a strange expression as Hawkes returns to his station. After a moment, he turns back to his duties, much less agitated.

FADE TO:

INT. INFIRMARY

Medium shot of Rusty laying face-down on a treatment bed. He is shirt-less.

Hope stands next to him, checking the displays above the bed. Her hands, palms-down,
are resting just shy of touching Rusty's shoulders.

HOPE
Remain still.

Hope closes her eyes in concentration. Her hands move slowly along Rusty's shoulder, just a few millimeters short of actual contact.

RUSTY
(sighs deeply, his voice muffled)
You really should branch out into massages, Hope. (chuckles)

Hope does not respond, completing her ministrations silently. After several more seconds of treatment, she stops and raises her hands away from Rusty's body.

HOPE
Done. You may rise.

Rusty turns over on the table. He moves his shoulder tentatively and then in a full range of motion.

RUSTY
(nods with pleased satisfaction, looks at Hope)
Nice work, Doc.

HOPE
(blinks once)
Restricted duty.

She enters something into a nearly computer station.

RUSTY
(frowns)
What? What kind of restricted duty?

HOPE
(stares at Rusty)
Reduced hours. Limited physical activity.

RUSTY
(frown deepens)
How long?

HOPE
Fifty hours.

Sighing, Rusty shrugs back into this uniform shirt.

RUSTY
I suppose you'll be telling the Captain.

HOPE
Yes. In my report.

RUSTY
(tries a winning smile)
Do you have to?

HOPE
Yes.

RUSTY
(mouth works unhappily)
All right.

He tucks his tunic back into his pants and heads for the door.

RUSTY (CONT'D)
See you around, Doc.

Hope watches him leave without expression and then returns to her work.

FADE TO: