Grosse Encounters M.I. High

MAN BREATHES DEEPLY

DISTANT RUMBLING

EXPLOSION

Hmm.

FOOTSTEPS

COMPUTERS BEEP

Sir!

It's happened. We have one!

Unidentified craft. Crash landed.

We've checked all the flight paths, military logs...

Nothing was supposed to be in the area.

Here.

Our very first alien craft!

-OK. We do this by the book.

-By the book.

-Prepare a Section Ten.

-Ah!

-Lock down the area.

Put out a cover story.

Call it a meteor crash.

No-one gets within a mile of that site till we find our aliens.

We'll show them that Area 5.1 still matters.

Get our top man up there right now.

Edwin Grosse? Yes, sir!

And tell him that he needs to find a UFO,

or we're all out of a job!

We're all out of a job...

THEY MOAN

The 21st century faces a new kind of threat,

and MI9 must create a new breed of skilled undercover agent.

Hidden in a place no villain will think to look,

welcome to M.I. High.

-Headmaster?

-Sorry, Mr McNab. Bit of a rush.

The whole school's in a tizzy about last night.

We have a visitor.

What? Already?

Edwin Grosse. Ministry of Defence.

Oh. Yes, of course. You must be here about the UFO?

-Sorry?

-The spaceship. Crash landing in our back yard.

A giant fireball over the woods...

No spaceship, Mr Flatley. It was a meteorite.

Oh. Oh, I see.

Wait a minute.

How can you be so sure?

Because there are no such things as UFOs, Mr Flatley.

HE CHUCKLES Poor Mr McNab.

So impressed by the official line.

They don't always tell you the full story, you know, Mr McNab...

Here are the facts.

We're conducting a clean-up operation in the woods.

Strictly no admittance.

I need to speak to your pupils IMMEDIATELY.

Of course you do.

I know a 'man in black' when I see one.

What about the flying saucer, sir? I heard it was as big as a bus.

Yeah. When ET arrives, he comes on the number 66.

LAUGHTER

Yes, all right, all right. Calm down, everyone.

Now, this is Mr Grosse,

and he's got something to say about last night's...incident.

OK. I'll keep it simple.

Stay away from the woods.

I knew it. The place is riddled with aliens.

We're conducting a formal investigation. Meteorite crash.

Eliminating everything dangerous from the site.

Potential radioactivity, impact craters...

So, let's be clear, there's no such thing as aliens.

Actually, recent studies show at least 300 stars

with planets orbiting the sweet spot in our galaxy alone.

GROSSE CHUCKLES EVILLY

Oh, there are no 'sweets' or 'spots' in space, little girl.

It's where planets have the right chemistry

to support extra-terrestrial life.

What landed in the woods last night was a lump of space rock.

It happens every day.

So, any questions?

Yes, you?

-Who cuts your hair?

-SNIGGERING

Enough!

Let's have a bit of respect.

So, the woods are out of bounds until Mr Grosse decides otherwise.

THAT is an order.

So, thank you, Mr Grosse and goodbye, sir.

Mr Grosse, perhaps you'd like to see my goldfish...

-OK. Time we did a bit work.

-GROANING

Fact or fiction, how can we tell the difference?

Your nan tells you.

Wrong. Your nan's not a credible witness.

I'm setting you a project on truth and illusion.

I want you to gather the facts from what happened last night,

and only the facts, without going to the woods.

Start here - in the library, on the internet, in local papers...

Credible sources.

I'm hearing lots of very dull words.

Well, let's add a bit of competitive spirit to the deal.

Best project gets a special prize.

BELL RINGS

Go.

CHATTER

McNab giving prizes? Since when?

No, Aneisha. Prizes are good. We could clean up here.

-BUZZING

-Work together.

-Two heads ARE better than one.

-Sorry.

Then the prize is all mine, buddy.

BEEPING

PINGING

The lovely MYRA - a spy satellite owned by the Complainian Government.

It's just been shot down in our back yard.

OK. So, not a meteorite.

-Why did WE shoot it down?

-It wasn't us, Aneisha.

MYRA maps military sites across Europe, including ours.

No-one could crack their encryption, but there was a weak link.

The Black Box.

OK, having an off day. Is anyone else seeing orange?

Geek speak, Aneisha. We call any closed system a Black Box.

It's indestructible, and records all the satellite sees.

-Unencrypted.

-Exactly, Tom.

Whoever shot MYRA down must be after it.

If this box falls into the wrong hands,

it's a serious threat to our national security.

-So, let's go get it.

-Problem, Dan.

Area 5.1 have issued a Section Ten.

Oh, I hate it when that happens(!) Who?

Area 5.1,

a weird little unit left over from the Cold War.

They investigate...

UFO sightings.

No!

It gives them the right to lock down the area

until they're satisfied there are no green men running around.

-They've sent their best man.

-Edwin Grosse?

You mean there's a major breach of national security

lying in the woods, and we can't go after it?

Not officially. Tom, what have you got

-to help the spies stay undercover in the dark?

-Let's see...

Metal detector...

..night vision goggles...

-and a thingy...

-Thingy?

Heat sensors. Lets you know when people are close by.

Three thingies, please.

We go in tonight. Very carefully.

Whoever wants this box has used some serious weaponry.

Find it first, and DON'T get caught.

OWL HOOTS

FOOTSTEPS

METAL DETECTOR BUZZES

BEEPING

METAL DETECTOR BUZZES

BEEPING

SHE PANTS

BEEPING SHE GASPS

Oh, yes.

FOOTSTEPS

SHE PANTS

CRASHING SHE GASPS

Tom, I've found the crash site.

METAL DETECTOR BEEPS

Hey, guys!

I've found it!

We've got ourselves a landing site.

Let's get a whole alien army going.

Check out the big alien footprint. It works!

CAMERA SHUTTER CLICKS

See it and weep, McNab. I'm SO taking down that prize.

BEEPING

-What was that?!

-What?

Something glowing in the bush. We've found one!

Like in the movies, the finger glows...

Bing! "Phone...ho-o-o-me..."

Hello?

Are you in there, little guy?

-Aneisha?

-Do you want to phone home?

SHRILL SCREAM

BEEPING

Not cool, Roly. It might have teeth.

SHRILL SCREAM

Oh, right, yeah.

Didn't think of that.

SHRILL SCREAM

Need a bit of back up here, guys...

-DISTANTLY:

-I've got to go!

-Guys?

Guys?!

-Aneisha?

-Good one, Tom. You nearly got me caught!

-Why's everybody stopped moving?

-Cos we're undercover.

-Who else has stopped?

-Zoe. Nothing for five minutes.

-Either she's dropped her marker, or...

-I'll check. Where?

-27 degrees north west.

-You mean left and up a bit?

-Yes.

-On it.

SHE GASPS

So, what's this?

Not one of those school pupils with all that hi-tech stuff...

Ah!

And...a piece of MYRA?

Who's under there?

GRUNTING, SCUFFLING, GROANING

GRUNTING, GROANING

PANTING

HE GROANS

HE GASPS

HE PANTS

-Problem?

-Zoe.

Grab this.

Up.

HE SCREAMS

SQUELCHING

HE GROANS

SHE GRUNTS

Wow!

Oh, hi.

Where did you learn to do that?

Umm...PE.

I'm totally taking that class.

Not finding anything here tonight, but it's defo a meteor.

How do you know?

Cos that's what Mr McNab wants, and I'M getting that prize.

Coming?

I'll hang for a bit. Get my breath back.

SHE EXHALES

HE PANTS

We had to abort. Too many rogue classmates on the loose.

And 5.1. That Grosse guy was seriously scary.

-He knew about the satellite.

-Strange.

Chased me through the woods. Don't know how I shook him off!

Big Boys' Book of Survival Tips. We've got your back.

No, it's a high five. You do this.

OK. LOUD SLAPPING NOISE

SHE GIGGLES

Did we find anything?

I got this.

BUZZING Oops!

I think I killed Flopsy.

I meant to say...

..DON'T touch that!

What have I done?

It's OK. The limbic stimulator. My new device.

It scrambles neurons in the hippocampus,

triggering high-energy REM activity.

So, what you're trying to say is she sent Flopsy to sleep.

I did say that, didn't I?

-BEEPING

-Bingo.

Looks like MYRA was carrying energy sensors.

She's picked up heat flares here and here.

Underground missile launchers.

No use. Just bits of memory.

We need the Box to get the full data.

Hang on.

-What's this?

-A very messy school yard.

It's St Heart's.

And look here. The broom cupboard.

-MYRA'S found our hiding place.

-OK. Big trouble.

Whoever finds that box will have access to military secrets

from all over the world, and enough information

to blow our cover and put the entire M.I. High operation in jeopardy.

DOOR OPENS

Headmaster.

It's time to read the Riot Act.

I don't think I know that one. Is it a best-seller?

I've just had a message from Mr Grosse

which paints our school in a very bad light.

Really? This school? St Heart's?

Someone, not very far from here, disobeyed explicit orders

and entered the woods last night.

-I think it's time for you to step forward.

-Me?

But...I was nowhere near the woods.

I was...here. Yes, here, in the office.

What? I'm not accusing YOU of disobeying orders, Mr Flatley.

-Oh?

-No, I meant it's time for you to step forward

and impose some discipline on these unruly...upstarts.

What do you mean you were in the office?

Erm, I'm running a...science project. Bird watching, yes.

At night?

Yes, nocturnal...birds. Owls! For the wildlife thing.

Wildlife...audit.

The truth is out there, Mr McNab.

And so are most of our pupils, apparently.

Blatantly disregarding regulations.

I'll send them in.

Oh...will you?

Which ones?

All of them.

Right, well...

I'm so glad you could all drop by...

Drop by?!

Now, what did I ask you along for?

To give them a severe ticking off.

Oh, yes. Now, look here.

It's really not the done thing.

You mean, "not allowed."

Exactly. Not allowed.

Perhaps the instruction wasn't clear...

Oh, the instruction was clear, Mr Flatley.

They were told not to go there.

True. Very true. So, erm...

did any of you go there?

-Where?

-The woods, sonny boy. The woods.

No, sir.

There you are. That's what I thought.

Right then, toddle off. Spit spot.

Hey!

Spit spot?

-Exactly.

-That's your idea of a severe ticking off?

Rather good, I thought. PUPILS SNIGGER

The rest of them must be out there quaking in their boots.

I'll send them in.

Just a moment. I need a quick word with these two.

GIRL LAUGHS

You two seem to know an awful lot about aliens and stuff.

-Do we?

-Yes.

The sweet spot, the chemical atmosphere, and so on.

Supposing, just supposing,

one of those planets actually sent a spacecraft here,

hypothetically speaking, of course,

what do you think they'd be looking for?

HE EXHALES

Abductions?

By aliens. You must have heard of them.

I've got a book here somewhere. Look, let me show you.

It says that people, perfectly ordinary people,

are taken up into these spacecraft by these little men,

and they have these probes and... Oh, where's it gone?

I knew it was here somewhere.

I'll try a hack on his laptop cam.

And...we're in.

Well, at least we know it's safe.

But Mr Flatley isn't.

-Who's this?

-Edwin Grosse.

-In the future?

-No, the real Edwin Grosse.

He was found tied up in a warehouse.

It seems we have an imposter on our hands.

I knew there was something funny about the guy in the woods.

-So, who's he?

-Mercenary, enemy agent, muscle for hire...

He could be anybody, and he could do anything to get that box.

So, how do we protect our head teacher?

We need to get the box. This is getting dangerously tricky.

COMPUTER: What do you mean, "It's not at the crash site?"

Someone must have taken it from that school.

Instruct our agent to intensify his search.

We must have that box!

You appear to have lost this.

Oh, that's jolly nice of you, Mr Grosse.

-I was looking for that.

-Hmm.

The thing is, I found it in the woods.

Oh. That IS strange. It must have been abducted!

HE CHUCKLES

Maybe the kids, having a bit of fun...?

That can't be right.

They were told to stay away from the crash site.

I'll have to search your room, Mr Flatley.

-Oh, no. No, you can't.

-Can't?

No, no, it's...a serious breach. School files. Pupil confidentiality.

You'd need some kind of warrant.

We'll see about that.

Mr Flatley? You've got to hear my new song.

Not now, sonny!

Actually, Byron has the perfect ear for the emotional truth.

I will be back.

Just remember, anything found at the crash site is Government property,

and disobeying orders will have serious consequences.

Thank you, Mr Grosse.

Duly noted.

Now, my dear boy. Sing!

# We're all aliens

# Under the skin

# We just need to open our hearts

# And let some in. #

# We're all aliens

-# Under the skin... #

-# Let some in... #

-Turn the sound off, Tom.

-No! This rocks.

Someone give Zoe a definition of 'rocks.'

Has anyone else noticed Mr Flatley's sleeping in there?

Yeah, I think he's studying the crash site.

-He has this thing about aliens and abductions.

-That's it!

It's time for Dr Drama to do her stuff.

I hate Dr Drama.

SHE CHUCKLES

COMPUTER BEEPS

RATTLING

ELECTRICITY BUZZES

HE GASPS

ALIEN RASPS

HE MOANS

HE SCREAMS AND SOBS

ALIEN RASPS

HE SCREAMS

Please don't abduct me! I wouldn't be any use to you.

I haven't got anything worth probing!

HE SOBS

HE WHIMPERS

DOOR RATTLES

Ah! I've locked it.

HE CHUCKLES

Ah! Well done, guys.

What a perfect little scam. And very entertaining!

I watched the whole thing from the sidelines.

Now, we can either do this the easy way or the hard way.

Don't give it to him.

Actually, now I come to think of it, there is only the hard way.

-HE GROANS

-Run, Aneisha!

Yes, that's a better idea.

I always think it's best to have your enemies do your work for you.

Now, hurry, hurry, hurry.

That's it. Bring it over.

I'd love to stay and chat...

but I really must get this valuable box back to my bosses.

HE GROANS

HE SNORES

Limbic stimulator. I got your back too.

-High six?

-Five...

Check this ID. Head of KLAVIKLE. A KORPS agent.

-He's going down.

-Hold on.

-I've got a better idea.

-Better than prison?

It's like Grosse said...

sometimes it's best to let your enemies do all the work.

OK.

Let's play swapsies.

Nice one, Tom. Move the military sites.

Let's see what happens to Mr Grosse

when KORPS are met by our little welcoming party.

HE CACKLES

KORPS attack teams stand by. Let's hit them where it hurts.

COMPUTER: KOPRS intercepted. ALL CHEER

-COMPUTER:

-Attacks intercepted. MI9 ambush.

What?! No!

You've been outmanoeuvred, by children!

You pathetic, little, feeble idiot.

And now you'll have to pay!

Take him away!

No! No, please! Please!

HE SCREAMS

SHE SIGHS WEARILY

HE PLAYS GUITAR CHORDS

APPLAUSE Thank you. Very good. Thank you.

So...

The evidence is in...

..and Roland wins...a day's detention for breaking school rules

and going into the woods,

whereas Melissa, she used her brains...

and this Ministry of Defence website to keep up to speed with events.

See, no need to disobey orders.

Well done, come on up.

APPLAUSE

And, as our school hero,

you get to help Frank clean up the yard...

ALL CHEER SARCASTICALLY

..and you lot get to help her!

-ALL GROAN

-Oh, come on. Cheer up.

Look on the bright side.

At least we've established there's no such thing as aliens.

Right, headmaster?

Headmaster?

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