(points again) The one on the side-- Nina. Two thousand roentgen. One hour, fatal.
Tarakanov shakes his head. Hard to believe such a thing could be true. Rocks. Rubble. A building.
TARAKANOV
We used remote-controlled bulldozers in Afghanistan. Maybe--
SHCHERBINA Too heavy. They'd fall right through.
TARAKANOV
So then-- ?
LEGASOV
Moon rovers.
Tarakanov looks at Legasov. I'm sorry, moon rovers?
LEGASOV
Lunokhod STR-1's. They're light, and if we line them with lead, they can withstand the radiation.
SHCHERBINA We couldn't put a man on the moon, at least we can keep a man off a roof.
LEGASOV
That is the most important thing, General. Under no circumstances can men go up there. Robots only.
Taraknov looks back at the photo.
TARAKANOV What about this large section?
Legasov and Shcherbina fall silent. Then:
SHCHERBINA
Masha.
Tarakanov picks up the tone in the older man's voice.
Reverence. Or is it dread?
LEGASOV
Twelve thousand roentgen. If you stood there in full protective gear, head to toe-- you would receive a lifetime dose in ninety seconds. At two minutes, your life expectancy is cut in half. By three minutes-- you're dead within months.
Tarakanov looks down at the photo of MASHA. Graphite chunks
enlarged in the photo as blurred, ominous shadows...
LEGASOV
Even the lunar rovers won't work on Masha. That amount of gamma radiation penetrates everything. The particles literally shred the circuits in microchips apart. If it's more complicated than a light switch, Masha will destroy it.
SHCHERBINA I think it's fair to say this piece of roof is the most dangerous place on the planet.
TARAKANOV (stunned) So... what do we do?
SHCHERBINA That's what we were going to ask you.
412 EXT. REACTOR SITE - CONTINUOUS 412
In the far distance, a small LINE OF BUSES is barely visible, moving toward us.
413 INT. BUS - CONTINUOUS 413
Men. All men. 20's and 30's. Two in each seat. No expressions. Hard faces. Most have the look of men who have seen war. Except for:
PAVEL, 23, the thin boy we saw at the end of the last episode. He sits in a window seat, nervous. Crowded slightly by the huge man next to him.
PAVEL'S POV - through the window, nothing but open country. And then, as the bus slows... MILITARY VEHICLES. A checkpoint. Two soldiers in gas masks.
As the soldiers wave the bus through, Pavel sees a third soldier on his hands and knees, vomiting on the ground.
Pavel quickly looks away from the window. Stares straight ahead. Afraid.
414 EXT. LIQUIDATOR CAMP - LATER 414
The buses are parked in a field. The men stream out. Pavel exits, clutching his conscript papers in his hand.
Ahead of him - TENTS. Scores of them. Makeshift shelters, large enough to house eight men each. As Pavel follows along with the others toward a check-in point, we see:
COOKS - stir enormous vats of god-knows-what over field stoves. SUPPLY MEN unload crates from trucks and stack them on the ground. Each crate holds the same thing.
VODKA. Hundreds of crates. Thousands of bottles.
In the background, a row of men squatting over a trench latrine. Other men throw garbage into a fire pit.
415 EXT. TENTS - LATER 415
Pavel carries a pile of folded UNIFORM CLOTHING, two boots, and a cap. A small BLACK AND WHITE PIECE OF PLASTIC - like a rectangular badge - is now clipped to his shirt.
He's checking the numbers posted on the tents. 101... 102...
416 INT. TENT - MOMENTS LATER 416
Pavel pushes through the flap and enters the small tent. Inside, we see it's the kind you'd set up on a battlefield for temporary quarters. In fact, the exact kind.
Except for the empty vodka bottles scattered around. Most of the cots are empty, but messy, as if their occupants have already left to do their jobs. But there is one man... sitting on his cot, cleaning a RIFLE. This is GARO, 30, Armenian, thin. The same PLASTIC BADGE clipped to his shirt.
Garo turns to Pavel, and we see: his right eye is CLOUDED OVER. Dead. A small scar winds around the socket.
PAVEL
I was sent here? Tent 103?
Another MAN, face down on a COT, groans. Turns over, wakes up. Disoriented. As he sits up, an empty bottle rolls off his cot, and hits the ground with a dull thunk.
This is BACHO, 36. Tall, muscular. Pants but no shirt. His entire body-- his posture, his build, the way he juts his head— appears to be designed to commit violence.
He squints at Pavel through bleary eyes.
BACHO
New?
PAVEL
Yes.
Bacho rises... all 6'1" of him. Picks up a nearly-finished vodka bottle and a METAL CUP. Walks with a slight sway to Pavel. Offers the bottle.
BACHO
It's okay. It's free.
PAVEL It's a little early.
Bacho shrugs. Yes, that's true. He holds out his hand. Pavel shakes with him, wincing a bit as the big man squeezes his hand.
BACHO
Bacho.
PAVEL
Pavel.
Bacho picks up a shirt. Also a PLASTIC BADGE on it. He puts it on while he talks.
BACHO
So what unit were you in? PAVEL
They had me in the motor pool in Kiev, but--
BACHO
No no, not this bullshit. Afghanistan. What unit?
PAVEL
I wasn't in Afghanistan. I'm not in the military.
Bacho takes that in. Wooooow. He turns to Garo.
BACHO
They're running out of men. Garo nods. Yup.
Bacho wipes his nose. Then SLAPS his own cheeks with his hands. Takes a huge breath. Shakes the cobwebs out. Then claps Pavel on the arm. Hard enough to leave a bruise.
BACHO
Alright. Let's go.
Bacho exits the tent. Pavel just stands there. Then sees Garo staring grimly at him with his one good eye.
417 EXT. TENTS - MOMENTS LATER 417
Pavel rushes to catch up with Bacho, who starts pointing things out to him as they go.
BACHO
Showers. Food. Those guys over there? They dig up the ground. Those guys, they cut down trees. Those guys I think evacuate people, you know? Like villagers?
Pavel gestures toward a different group of men.
PAVEL What about them?
BACHO
I don't know them. Fuck them.
(sees, yells) Janek, you Latvian whore!
JANEK, 25, picks through a PILE OF STUFF... boots, caps, tin cups, pots, pans. He looks up and sees Bacho walking at him with purpose. Shit. That's not good.
JANEK
I'm not Latvian, I'm Estonian. BACHO
Well guess what, no one gives a shit. Give me an egg basket.
JANEK
I only have one, I promised it to-- Bacho juts his face toward Janek. Fist cocked.
BACHO
Give me the fucking basket.
JANEK Okay, okay...!
Janek pulls a CURVED PIECE OF FLAT GRAY METAL from the pile. It has four small holes punched into it, with shoelaces running through them. Like... a metal loincloth?
Bacho snatches it out of Janek's hand. Then makes a motion to smash Janek in the head with it. Janek FLINCHES back. Then Bacho points to Pavel. Eyes still glaring at Janek.
BACHO
He's with me, you understand? Nobody messes with him.
Janek raises his hands up... doesn't want trouble. Bacho, still scowling, gives a satisfied grunt. Then he turns to Pavel-- instantly calm again-- and hands him the bent metal.
BACHO
We make these from lead scrap. Put it on under your balls.
His balls? Pavel looks at the metal. Then realizes that Bacho is staring at him. As in... waiting.
PAVEL
Now?
BACHO
No, you should wait until the radiation gives you a cunt. Yes now.
Pavel looks around. Okay. He drops his trousers.
BACHO