MACREADY 35. Helicopter pilot. Likes chess. Hates
the cold. The pay is good.
GARRY 46. The station manager. Stiff. Ex-army
officer. Wears a handgun.
CHILDS 33. Six-four. Two-fifty. Black. A
mechanic. Can be jolly. But don't mess.
BLAIR 50. Sensitive. Intelligent. Unassuming.
An assistant biologist.
DR. COPPER 45. Professional. A decent man. A good
PALMER 27. Second string chopper pilot. Crack
mechanic. Long hair. Slight sixties acid
NAULS 22. The cook. Bright. Black. Irreverent.
But kindhearted. Roller skates.
NORRIS 44. Stocky. Rugged looking. A
geophysicist. An incipient heart condition.
BENNINGS 38. A meteorologist. Dutiful. An old pro.
CLARK 24. The dog handler. Likes it here. Good
at his job.
SANCHEZ 21. The radio operator. Hates it here.
Lousy at his job.
In the winter of 1982 these men were commissioned by the
United States National Science Foundation to gather data
concerning the physical and natural sciences on the
continent of Antarctica.
THE MAIN COMPOUND OF U.S. OUTPOST #31
The interior is a cramped and never ending maze of
hallways, passageways and doors which connect the many
rooms and compartments within the compound. Sturdy, but
prefabricated materials have been used in its
There is a laboratory. An infirmary. A kitchen and mess
hall. A communications room and sleeping quarters. Other
cubicles are for storage and supplies.
The most spacious area of the building, and the main
center of activity, is the Rec Room. Of the many entrance
ways to this room can be seen the small work chambers with
their sophisticated computers and other scientific
The below quarter houses the generator and still other
compartments for storage.
A long underground tunnel connects the main compound to
the dog kennel.
A STARRY BLACKNESS
From out of the billions, the smallest of specks drives
slowly forward. It closes; getting larger; its features
becoming more identifiable: a vessel. Flip-flopping; out
of control. Its stern roaring with flame. It passes; its
blue fire surging into the screen.
A BLIND AND FERAL WHITENESS
... Glacial desert... gusts of snow... superimpose:
ANTARCTICA 1982 WINTER
Loud and strident. A helicopter streaks across frame. It
travels precariously close to the ground; its chassis
battered and swayed by the wind.
Red dials beam on the faces of two men. One carries a
rifle and searches the horizon with binoculars. The other
pilots. Their unkempt faces, their blazing eyes notate a
wildness. They bark at each other in some Scandinavian
tongue. Two men arguing like mad and desperate children.
The man with the binoculars sights something.
EXT. HORIZON - BINOCULARS' POV - A DOG
It turns and snarls at the craft some fifteen hundred
yards to its rear. Then whirls and gallops off. A gun
blast kicks up snow at its heels.
Another blast of rifle fire as the man takes issue with
his prey. The pilot slams a fist into his gunman friend
and implores for better aim. The craft swoops lower and
the engine is put into full throttle.
EXT. HILL - THE DOG
running feverishly up and over a hill of ice. A weather-
beaten, wooden sign sticks up on the other side: