Leviathan

DOC: Be careful with it.

BECK: Don't worry, I don't want to give up any more.

BECK: That it acquires intelligence from its victims?

DOC: Intelligence may not be the right word...

DOC: Some say that's why we're basically hairless, for less water resistance, faster swimming speeds...

BECK: But what about those scales... or that leech-like thing that bit Cobb?

DOC: Why stop with just one aspect of marine life? Why not incorporate the best genetic components the ocean has to offer?...

BECK: Well, if they were perfecting an aquaman, then why's there a dead one onboard that Russian ship? Why isn't he out swimming around?

BECK: They found this?

DOC: No. I think they isolated him in genetic engineering. Homo aquaticus...

BECK: Was there such a thing?

DOC: Danakil man?...one of our ancestors. Named for the Danakil Alps in Ethiopia.

BECK: Not exactly a big ocean country.

DOC: It was when it counted a couple of million years ago when the seas came in and drove us into the water. Most homo sapiens didn't make it...Danakil man... adapted.

BECK: The mask is because you think it might be...catching?

DOC: I don't know. I've been back and forth with Narragansett Naval all day, consulting with the best people in maritime medicine, the best people in viruses...

BECK: And?

DOC: And they didn't believe the symptoms I described...

BECK: Why Sixpack?

DOC: It could be a million things, something in the air, food.... But he went on that ship and so did Williams... I want to examine the crew.

BECK: Yeah...right...

DOC: Here. Put this on. You examine him.

BECK: I'm not a doctor.

DOC: For this...you don't need to be.

BECK: Dead? This morning you said he had some skin disorder.

DOC: He did.

BECK: Well, how the hell does a skin rash kill you in eight hours?!

BECK: What's wrong?

DOC: Pretty good imitation of a hangover and I ought to know.

BECK: What do you want me to say? That it all sounds mysterious?

DOC: These observers were doing something. A test...I think they sank that ship on purpose to cover up their mistakes.

BECK: What mistakes? Look, I think it's no big deal but if you want to find out why this ship sank have Maritime run a check.

DOC: You mind if I take a look at this?

BECK: Be my guest.

BECK: Are you planning on working tomorrow?

DOC: Well, I'll be on the golf course in the morning. Then, if I don't have any babies to deliver--

BECK: We almost had an accident today. DeJesus' suit...

JONES: Your suit, Becky!

BECK: Just get in yours!

JONES: Where the hell've you been?

BECK: I got hung up! Try this!

BECK: Go on!

JONES: No!

BECK: That's an order!

JONES: Fuck your orders!

JONES: I hit it. But I can't see it! Can you see it?!

BECK: No.

JONES: Jesus Christ...

BECK: Can you fix it?

JONES: No way...

BECK: Think! Can we stop it?! Block it up?! Shut down the line somewhere?! Think!

JONES: I am thinking, man! You think I want to die! I am thinking! I--

BECK: We don't have much choice... without air, the internal pressure will fall and--

JONES: Crunch...Implosion.

BECK: That's why there's a dead one on the ship. It ran out of blood.

JONES: What dead one on the ship?

BECK: No, it's not going through. The intercom's busted. I thought DeJesus fixed that?

JONES: He did.

BECK: I thought they were your friends?

JONES: Were, Doss were.

JONES: It's got Hazy!

BECK: What has?

JONES: One of those chunks of Sixpack! Like a big leech, with those teeth!...

JONES: We're getting out of here just in time.

BECK: There's now a problem with the weather for pickup. There's a typhoon in our sector... ...We're going to be delayed twelve hours...

JONES: Bullshit...I was just talking to him. I saw him move.

BECK: What?...

BECK: I've been looking at the duty roster...at the shack hours outstanding...

JONES: Uh, oh...I see where this is going...

BECK: ...all of you owe time and I thought tonight would be a good time to---

BECK: Doc eat already?

JONES: The good doctor hasn't showed yet.

BECK: DeJesus! A readout!

JONES: He don't need a readout, man, he needs help!

BECK: Stay calm!

SIXPACK: Look at my foot, sir! This bitch put a goddamn sea monster in my bunk!

BECK: How do you know it was Williams?

SIXPACK: Huh? I...uh...uh...

BECK: All right, Sixpack, you and Williams are gonna pull water duty tomorrow--

BECK: Cobb, Jones, I want you to do something about that damn rattle in the air system... Bowman and Sixpack...living quarters...

SIXPACK: Shit...

BECK: Williams...get DeJesus' suit on the "sick rack" and do a diagnostics. Any other suit problems she should know about?

WILLIE: It hit me! Where are they?!

BECK: I can't see them!

WILLIE: We made it!

BECK: Where's Jones?

BECK: We're on backup air.

WILLIE: How much time does that give us?

BECK: Less than an hour. It's ruptured an air duct.

WILLIE: Can't we fix it?

BECK: What are you doing?

WILLIE: Seeing how my stock's doing...

WILLIE: They know, don't they?

BECK: Yeah...I think they're just deciding what to do with us.

WILLIE: Maybe they already have.

BECK: Shit! He sent them all.

WILLIE: The escape bubbles?

WILLIE: What can we do?

BECK: Our only chance is to lure it to the Swamp and flush it like we did the other.

BECK: I guess I figured if I was in their shoes that's what I would've done.

WILLIE: Maybe you're more one of us than you think...sir.

BECK: You think I should hang around more with the crew?

WILLIE: Well, I always heard you don't "learn" leadership, you earn it. How did you know they'd get into the vodka?

BECK: Whatever made you want to do a tour down here?

WILLIE: I need electrical field experience on my resume. Everything helps... Why are you here?

BECK: Everybody in corporate training serves a tour on the line. Sup- posed to hone leadership skills or something.

WILLIE: Has it helped?

BECK: How's astronaut training?

WILLIE: Why? You going to give me hard time like the others?

BECK: No. I'm just being friendly.

WILLIE: Good...It's going good.

BECK: That was a loud one wasn't it?

WILLIE: After a month of it you'd think I'd be used to it.

WILLIE: Sixpack?

BECK: Why can't we pick up his signal?

BECK: That's great. Now let's move 35 degrees southwest.

WILLIE: You screw around like that again and--

BECK: I need more light on that, Four.

WILLIE: Roger... More light, Sixpack...

WILLIE: You did good...

BECK: What?

WILLIE: Today...with DeJesus. That was smart thinking to get him inside...

BECK: There probably wasn't anything wrong with his suit...

WILLIE: Still...you did the right thing.

COBB: Oh, God, she's out there...

BECK: Jones...come with me. Cobb, you and Doc check the rooms.

BECK: No!

COBB: It bit me!

BECK: Shut up, all of you.

COBB: Mr. Beck, the contract states that no body can be disposed of without authorization of---

COBB: Excuse me, sir...

BECK: Is this a contract violation, Mr. Cobb?

COBB: No sir...I just wanted to know if you needed a hand?

BECK: Something wrong, Cobb?

COBB: Uh..Excuse me sir, it's the air recirculating system, sir...

BECK: What's wrong with it?

COBB: ...I'd really have to show it to you.

BECK: All right...

COBB: What about our quota?

BECK: You're only twenty-five tons off quota. Barring an unforeseen problem you should reach it easily on the last day. It's just a day off. You don't have to take it, I just thought it might help.

BECK: The internal monitors read normal.

COBB: Where's Doc?!

BECK: He's not at his station.

BECK: Wait till you reach thirty- five before you blow your suit...

WILLIE'S VOICE: Roger.

WILLIE'S VOICE: I'm going inside.

BECK: What's your air reading?

WILLIE'S VOICE: Twenty minutes...

BECK: Twenty minutes!...Who had tank duty?

BECK: Charge set?

WILLIE'S VOICE: Charge set. Backing off. C'mon Rover let's get out of here.

BECK: I can't tell you much about it, except that none of you show any symptoms.

DEJESUS: And it killed Bo?

BECK: No...she killed herself.

DEJESUS: Okay, number 23's full.

BECK: Let's get it out of here and bring in a new one.

BECK: How do you feel, DeJesus?

DEJESUS: Okay.

BECK: Better let the Doc take a look at you, after dinner.

BECK: Give me a readout, DeJesus.

DEJESUS: Ahhhh!

BECK: Forty-eight hours!

MARTIN: I realize you must have gone through hell--

BECK: What're you saying? That we're not even going to be picked up tomorrow?

MARTIN: It shouldn't be a long delay.

BECK: But it's a delay! How long? A day? Two days?!

MARTIN: Twelve hours, no big deal. We should know something first thing in the morning. Don't worry.

MARTIN: Well, according to Maritime law, you, as commander of the Shack have the authority to dispose of the body. However, the company doesn't want you to do that.

BECK: What you don't understand is that my crew is in jeopardy.

MARTIN: But you don't have any proof at this point to assume that this disease is contagious, do you?

BECK: I'm not anxious to find out, either.

MARTIN: Beck, trust me. If the company felt that you or your crew were in any danger we would authorize an immediate emergency pickup. We could be there in a few hours.

BECK: Do it.

MARTIN: Unfortunately. We can't.

BECK: How's the weather for pickup tomorrow?

MARTIN: Beautiful.

MARTIN: ...as long as you know it's not in your contract.

BECK: I know that.

MARTIN: Well, suit yourself, then...its your decision... Ha ha...a little joke...suit yourself...

BECK: Thank you, Martin.

MARTIN: Don't thank me, yet, but it is important to know where you're going and who your friends are... 'Know what I mean?

BECK: Two hundred and fifty-two tons of Magnesium and 15 tons of Sodium.

MARTIN: Sounds like a good week, Beck. In fact...I put your folder in front of the Vice President of District Operations last night...

BOWMAN: Personal effects...

WILLIE: Timex...

WILLIE: You take your money, too seriously, Bo.

BOWMAN: You're damn right I do. Five years down here and I'll pull in more than 15 topside. I'm not down here for the fun, I'll tell you that.

BOWMAN: You got money in this tub?

WILLIE: I signed-up for the stock option.

WILLIE: Made your million, yet?

BOWMAN: Not yet.

WILLIE: How's TransOcean doing?

JONES: Yes sir...

BOWMAN: Hook's on 24...

BOWMAN: Cute, DeJesus...Specimen cups?

JONES: Aw, loosen up, Bowman... Hey, Willie, I got one served up for you.

BOWMAN: Who else...Sixpack.

JONES: The man is unbelievable... I say, leave him in there.

BOWMAN: What about his suit? That's a million five the company's got to replace. They'll make somebody go get it.

BOWMAN: If he had his blinkers on--

JONES: It wouldn't make any difference in there...He could be two feet away and on fire and she'd still not see him!

JONES: Hey, Bo...when're you going to be off that thing? I want to find out tonight's NBA scores and check the weather.

BOWMAN: The weather's good, I already checked, but I'll be off in a minute.

BOWMAN: I'm telling you, it's the suits!

JONES: Fuck the suits, it's the people monitoring them. It Doc had been there like he's supposed to it never would've happened!

DOC: Still bothering you?

COBB: Itches like hell.

DOC: Take it off and let me have a look.

COBB: What happened?

DOC: It...almost got you.

COBB: What was it?

COBB: Bullshit.

DOC: ...and a Russian grandmother...

COBB: You read Russian?

DOC: Russian, French, Italian, Spanish, Greek, German, a little Hindu, some Serbo Croat and a smattering of Swahili...standard pre-med background...

COBB: What the?...

DOC: Russian.

COBB: I say we should go get in the escape bubbles and get the hell out of here!

JONES: And hit the surface in the middle of a typhoon?...No, thank you. I'll take my chance down here.

JONES: You let him get away!

COBB: I ain't doing nothing for that thing without something to defend myself.

JONES: That thing happens to be my friend.

COBB: What's going on?

JONES: It's Hazy...It's got him! Stay here and don't let him out. I'm going to get the Doc.

COBB: At least we get time and a half. That's in the contract.

JONES: Fuck double pay, man! I want out of here!

JONES: "Routine," my ass! Ain't nothin' "routine" about no physical check- up 10,000 feet down...especially when we're getting picked up the next day!

COBB: He didn't say it was a "routine check-up," he said it was a "routine precaution."

JONES: Yeah? How'd the kid hold up?

COBB: Pretty good. He sent them out videotaping outcrop.

JONES: Oooooh. Damn! Not so loud. Turn down the music.

COBB: What music? There ain't no music.

JONES: So that's all you do?...

COBB: Shhhh...don't tell no one. Job security.

JONES: Listen to it for Christsake.

COBB: Ah, it's just old, like me. You don't see the Doc opening me up every time I get a new creak in my joints...I say, as long as it's recycling the air let the next shift deal with it. But, 'long as we're here...

COBB: No way, Mister Beck! No fucking way! We just did a full shift, you can't call Shack duty on top of a full shift. It's a contract violation!

JONES: Whooo! Right on, Cobb! Let's hear it for our shop Steward!

DEJESUS: It's Sixpack!

COBB: I'm going to kill it!

DEJESUS: Hey!...I feel something. It's moving! He's alive!

COBB: I feel it, too...Someone's trying to get out.

DEJESUS: C'mon, Cobb...you're slacking...

COBB: I ain't, goddamnit...It's Jones!..

COBB: Bad as he is there's no way we can make our quota with- out his sad self out there. You just can't do it.

DEJESUS: He's tanking on us...

COBB: You guys are crazy. What the hell you play that stupid game for?

DEJESUS: What game, Cobb?...I'm on my way to Nirvana...

COBB: You're on your way somewhere all right...the looney bin.

DEJESUS: I'm on the way to the looney bin? Hey, man, I'm not the dude sun bathing in his clothes.

DEJESUS: Hey, Cobb...Man, why don't you take off your shirt and pants, man? You should do that wearing what you're going to wear at the beach.

COBB: This is what I wear at the beach, goddamnit.

DEJESUS: Hey, man, you know that in Switzerland--and this country's the size of East L.A., okay?--they speak 54 different dialects? Fifty-four!

COBB: Who cares?

DEJESUS: I do, man. That's a beautiful place. When I get out of here I'm going there. Find a nice little snow covered chalet, warm little woman, crackling fire--

DEJESUS: Look. Water.

JONES: Probably the plumbing. You gonna make me finish that puzzle by myself, or what?

DEJESUS: Getting some food.

JONES: Under there?

JONES: How'd you do that?

DEJESUS: What? That?...I've done this one before. You hungry? I'm hungry.

DEJESUS: Serves his ass right to get it. Motherfucker brings that shit onboard. I hope his fucking ass rots in the sea and is shit upon by the fish.

JONES: 'Fucker could have gotten us all killed.

DEJESUS: Typhoon?!

JONES: Twelve hours!

JONES: Burritos...Enchiladas...

DEJESUS: Oh, gag, man, how can you eat that stuff?...

JONES: Fuck semantics, Doc! You saying its like part DeJesus, part Sixpack, part Bowman?!

DOC: I don't know. I'm guessing.

DOC: The monster appears to be a genetic aberration...

JONES: No fuckin' lie...

DOC: ...It has many traits of deep sea marine life...regeneration, scales, gills, even a period of dormancy... but the fact that it remembered where the plasma was stored, or where the communication wiring was, may imply that it has some other quality...

DOC: It would explain the suction- like appendages.

JONES: Like a leech.

JONES: Bigger than DeJesus? How?

DOC: It's had a meal.

DOC: We've got to get him to the infirmary.

JONES: What are you going to do to him?

DOC: I'm going to try to remove it.

JONES: I've got Cobbie downstairs watching the door.

JONES: Excuse me, sir...Bowman's sick. She's downstairs in the infirmary.

DOC: The infirmary?...

JONES: Yes sir, ain't that where we usually go when we're sick?

DOC: We're simply concerned about her...proximity to...

JONES: How far away is she?

DOC: Two hundred meters.

WILLIE: It saw us!

JONES: Answer them and quit kicking me!

WILLIE: I'm not touching you!

WILLIE: Are you okay, Jonesy?

JONES: Tip top, Willie...tip top.

WILLIE: Who's the best power forward in the NBA...Jameson?

JONES: Jameson? Who are you trying to con...?

WILLIE: Are you sure you saw something?

JONES: How many times I got to tell you. I saw a ship.

WILLIE: Well, why haven't they answered our flares?

WILLIE: Don't spend all day down there.

JONES: Don't fuckin' worry, I ain't.

WILLIE: The shack...

JONES: She's wondering what's happening. We're losing air faster than I thought.

WILLIE: What is it?

JONES: The air's stopped.

WILLIE: What is it?

JONES: The good doctor signed our death warrant.

WILLIE: Cobb's cut...It was in him! It got Doc...

JONES: Oh man, that's just great...

WILLIE: It needs blood?

JONES: Fucking great...You telling me we got a fucking dracula in here with us?

WILLIE: What's wrong?

JONES: DeJesus...It's got him.

WILLIE: What on earth's the matter with you?

JONES: I ought to smack your face!

WILLIE: Who were you talking to?

JONES: Sixpack...

WILLIE: How is he?

JONES: Sleeping. No sign of Doc, though. I'll check the control room. You look in the shower room...

WILLIE: No...he's really sick. I heard him last night. The company will take that into consideration...

JONES: Honey, the company don't give a flying fuck about "whys," they just look at the numbers and the contract says if we miss our quota they only got to pay us half-pay for the entire month.

WILLIE: What is it?

JONES: "Debbie Does Dallas"... Hell, it's in Russian. I can't read it...

WILLIE: Hey, Jonesy, who's the best power forward in the NBA...Jameson?

JONES: Jameson? Who're you trying to con?

WILLIE: Clear for pickup.

JONES: Let's hope it holds.

SIXPACK: What's wrong, did you miss me?

WILLIE: Hardly.

SIXPACK: Don't worry, darlin, I'm...

SIXPACK: Bitch! Look what you did!

WILLIE: Sorry, darling...Just thought a little humor would loosen us all up...you know?...

SIXPACK: My pocket. Check my pocket, will ya, honey?

WILLIE: Your pocket?

SIXPACK: The latch is screwed up. Or the hinge.

WILLIE: Right.