Do you have your duct tape, spaceman?
- Yes, sir. - Good!
If you are hit by a Red Team BB,
you will only have a couple of seconds to patch it
before the air is released from your suit,
and you are marked dead by the game master.
Because there's no air on the moon, sir?
That's right, son.
General, if we get hit...
Try not to get hit.
Try to hit those Air Force boys on the Red Team first.
Yes, sir!
But say I poke a hole on my suit, like on a cactus,
should I just lay down and wait until Space Flag is over, sir?
Wait, wait, laying down?
What the fuck is that, "laying down"?
You seem very intent on laying down.
This isn't about laying down. This is about a battle!
It's just that...
Sir, it's just a lot of weight, and it's hot.
"It's gonna be hot."
Yeah, we're gonna be in the desert. What else?
And I'm already kinda sleepy, sir.
Jesus Christ.
Don't worry. In the field, each one of you will be wearing an exoskeleton.
What the fuck is that guy's problem?
Iron Man pants.
You'll be paired with a scientist
who can remote-control walk you back to base,
whether you're conscious or not.
Permission to nap while the pants walk us back, sir?
No!
No napping. Newborns nap.
Come on, spaceman.
The war game is very important.
It will help us pick which exoskeleton system to buy,
Lockheed or Raytheon.
Mr. Scientist, which one is more comfortable?
Enough! Come on, men.
All you need to do is fight hard.
Fight your best.
And know that Dr. Mallory
is getting the best equipment for the Space Force team.
And even when hydraulics are 90% damaged,
the XR-11 exoskeleton can take a lickin'
and keep on tickin'.
Now, what about limb movement?
Texting.
"Astronauts should help each other, not shoot each other."
Well, kind of missing the point.
He's not a big fan of war games,
but he's definitely the person who should be deciding our tech.
Spacemen!
This is a great adventure that we are embarking on today.
We are training for the worst-case scenario,
but the best-case scenario is colonizing the galaxy.
Imagine, years from now,
you could be on some distant star, harvesting corn.
Mark.
Here he is.
Dr. Mallory.
Well, I've sat through both presentations
and, as theater, they make Wild Horse High School
look like the West End.
- Ha. Sorry. - Which will give us the biggest edge?
I'd go with Lockheed.
Lockheed! Good!
Both are only designed to get the spacesuits back to base
after an astronaut is killed.
Spacesuits cost millions.
- Spacemen, rather less. - All right.
Roger that. Over and out.
Neither is designed to save the men.
- The systems are... - What am I doing?
...basically high-tech body bags.
- But the military's ritual slaughter... - It's the one...
There we go.Okay.Phones.
All right!
Well, we have the best system.
Now let's talk about tactics.
General Naird sits, sips his coffee,
for perhaps it could be his last.
What are you doing?
I'm joining the battle as an embed.
Going Vice News on this shit.
If I see you on the battlefield, I'll shoot you in the face.
You will not see me.
The hardened general keeps his distance, unsure how to show his admiration
for this young reporter.
Good, I'm glad you're here.
I am going to need you by my side all day today.
You are the closest thing that I have to a number two.
So in war games, that makes you my aide-de-camp.
In real life, that makes me totally uninterested.
Five years!
Five years I was Kick's aide-de-camp at the Air Force war games.
He would love nothing better than to see me fall flat on my face.
Okay. Well, then, thanks for the title
of Make Believe Assistant with No Real Power in a Fake War, I guess.
So, first things first. The pre-brief.
Now, the pre-brief is sort of a stare down between boxers.
Well, then my vast experience in the ring will finally come in handy.
You know...
All right. I wasn't gonna get into any of this, but...
How do I put this?
These guys have a very strict code of behavior.
Maybe this code is arbitrary and excessively macho.
Why do you ask to be ridiculed?
Wha... What about my behavior invites ridicule?
Well...
the way you... walk.
Arms... like noodles.
Kind of...
All right, so we're going into battle. And you are dressed like Annie Hall.
Maybe you could wear something...
How do... Okay.
Maybe you could be more...
Take off... God.
Um...
Don't corner me into saying something offensive, please!
So, now I'm getting fashion advice
from a man who's worn the same
50/50 nylon-cotton twill trousers
for the past 40 years?
Adrian, there is power in conformity!
Yeah, I get it, Mark.
- You dress for defense. - Exactly.
Whereas my style is a brave expression of my fearless personality.
Isn't that ironic, Mr. Military?
No, no, no, no, no. Do not... Do not...
Okay. All right. I get what you're doing.
Well, well, look who it is, boys!
General Mark Nerd.
Clever.
I suppose if I tried real hard,
I could come up with a humorous spin on your last name, General Grabaston.
Dr. Mallory.
Hello, General.
Here to observe the exoskeletons?
I'm Mark's right-hand man, his aide-de-camp.
Very progressive, Naird.
This is my guy, Clarke Luffinch.
Yo.
His arms look like steel bricks.
We're going to eat your guts, Nerd,
and wipe our asses with your skin.
Really?
We're gonna eat your guts and wipe your asses with our skin.
So the game of mental chess has begun.
Hungry Hungry Hippos at best.
What's going on with the lights?
Sorry, I thought it would make it more dramatic.
As a representative of the Army,
they are making me referee today's Space Flag
between Space Force and Air Force Red Team.
Welcome to a day of multiple challenges
testing you in all areas of space fighting readiness,
culminating with a mock infantry skirmish on the moon.
Question.
If we win all the events based on science and computing,
do we really need to compete in lunar laser tag?
Absolutely.
The skirmish is worth 100 points.
The rest of the contests are worth, I don't know, let's say 30.
So, in other words,
it basically boils down to a slap fight on the moon?
- It's a skirmish. - Skirmish.
Okay. The Air Force has selected the Raytheon exoskeleton,
and Space Force has chosen the exoskeleton from Lockheed.
Come on.
Jim, I'm right here. I can hear you.
If I may, Bert, I'm concerned about
some of the physical aspects of the competition.
I bet you are.
Kick's airmen are in their prime.
Space Force is a new branch,
consisting of mostly very green teenage recruits
and older astronauts who spent ten years getting their PhD.
Excuses are like assholes, Naird.
And you are a huge excuse.
May I be excused?
I would like to join my scientists for the tech events,
while they pump themselves up for Testosterone Tag.
I'm sorry, I just got distracted by Naird's shoes.
My God, Naird, how do you keep them so clean?
Look how shiny they are, sir.
So shiny I can see up your skirt.
They're supposed to be shiny.
"Mommy, they're so shiny."
Shake hands. We'll see each other on the battlefield.
Cute pumps, Nerd.
I love that suit.
It's not a suit. It's an ensemble.
- Chosen with great care and tact. - Shh.
Seems they found a chink in your poly-blend suit of armor.
I refuse to be ashamed that I enjoy a bright, shiny pair of shoes!
And Adrian, "Testosterone Tag"?
No, no. Not fitting of an aide-de-camp.
A title as meaningless as war itself.
War is not meaningless.
War is what democracies use to protect freedom.
And freedom is what allows you to talk that sass.
"Sass"?
I knew you would fixate on that word.
"Sass."
Spacemen!
Can anyone tell me what that is?
Sir, that's a line, sir!
- Nice. - Negative!
That is the moon.
Flat, desolate, nowhere to hide.
Actually, despite its lack of tectonic plates,
the moon's surface is a complex topography
- of mountains and craters, among... - Okay, okay, okay.
Thank you, Bill the Science Guy.
Thank you very much. I will handle the training session.
Now, once the battle begins, we will separate into two groups.
The first group will make a wedge formation in the front,
and the second group will remain in reserve.
Reserve. Called it.
Dr. Mallory has also supplied us with our firearms.
This is the Daisy 760 Pumpmaster.
Sir, is that a BB gun?
Yes, it is!
That's a Daisy. When I was a kid, we used to use those
to fight the poor kids in the neighborhood.
Now, of course, that's... that's not PC, but...
The choice of weapons and targets
was deliberate.
On the moon, the difference between life and death
can be as small as a BB-sized tear in a spacesuit.
That's why we've got duct tape.
Yes, spaceman, duct tape will save you.
But don't worry, these aren't the only weapons you'll have.
Each spaceman will be issued a cuticle scissor set!
This will be used to pop spacesuits at close range.
- Guard these with your life. - Can I keep one of those scissors?
I'm always losing mine.
These are combat scissors, soldier.
Okay?
Many of you may not have used one of these for quite some time,
so I'm gonna give you a little refresher course.
You gotta pump it!
Pump it up! Pump it hard!
The harder you pump, the more air will be in the chamber,
the more penetrating power that BB is gonna have.
Really takes a while, sir.
It takes about as long as it took the minutemen
to reload their muskets at Lexington and Concord.
And... like those... great patriots,
we will be operating in...
Powdered wigs?
...a staggered formation.
Where the front line will fire, while the back line reloads.
Any questions?
And fire!
Reload!
Second line!
Fire!
Reload!
First line!
Fire!
You box of shit!
Friendly fire.
Let's hope we never face a battalion of empty cans.
You're not helping.
Fire!
Nice shot, Staff Sergeant.
Kiki Rhodes, sir.
Captain Ali, a good staff sergeant is a treasure.
- Treasure this one. - Sir.
Well, stick with me, Staff Sergeant.
Follow my lead out there.
Well, I'd feel better if you would have knocked the can down.
You ever been in combat?
I was top of my class in Intro to Combat Theory,
and I got an A-plus on my end-of-term paper.
- Impressive. - Thank you.
I hope I live long enough to read that.
I... do hope you wish you live long enough...
It was a damn good paper. They don't just hand out A-plusses.
Calculate orbital period. What's our radial trajectory?
Correcting for lunar gravitation, 707.4.
You're a motherfucking math genius, Vandeveld!
Satellite's in range.
Locked and loaded.
Say goodbye, bitch.
Boom!
Come on!
Yes!
Come on, come on! Settle!
- These are, pretty bulky. - Yeah.
The suits are bulky.
And how I'mma fit my fingers through these scissor holes
with these thick-ass gloves, man?
The scissors. They're tiny.
Tony. Yo, do you mind?
Every spaceman has his role to play, and mine is generating content.
The balloons. They're bouncy.
Tony.
Tony! Get out of my face.
Yes, ma'am. Right.
- That's amazing. - I don't...
- You're dead. - Fuck you, man.
Damn it.
All right! Let's see what these suits are capable of.
Chambers, give me a burpee.
Not possible, sir.
You can't even do a burpee in that thing?
I couldn't do one before.
I can do one, sir.
My God!
I'm sure you'll all be pleased to hear that the science team...
Da-da-da-da-da.
Why did you choose the Lockheed suit?
These guys can't even move in these things.
I'm sure the Air Force is having the same problems.
May I speak to you outside for a moment?
Little privacy, please?
Sir, yes, sir.
Jesus Christ.
You picked the wrong exoskeleton on purpose, didn't you?
What?
You couldn't help it?
You hate the whole idea of war games, Space Flag.
Space should be a zone of wonder, not of conflict and death.
No, I don't think that's it at all. I don't think it's a moral issue.
I think you're scared.
I think that you stink at sports, and a long time ago,
you decided that if you can't win, you're not gonna play.
What are you talking about?
I can just see it now.
Little nerdy Mallory sitting in the nurse's office,
pretending to have a tummy ache
so he doesn't get picked last for basketball!
My father was a diplomat.
I went to the American school in Geneva.
We downhill skied.
So you were captain of the ski team?
Fuck you, Mark.
Sorry.
I, sometimes sing to relieve stress.
No, no. No judgment here.
When I wanna blow off steam, I go to the tunnel under Building 5.
The acoustics in there are unreal.
You sing, too?
No, I usually scream into the darkness until my voice gives out.
Highly cathartic.
So... well...
hang in there.
It...
- I don't... - That's my hat.
That's yours. Okay. Okay.
Goodbye.
So...
All right.
Don't know why I did that.
Where you've been, babycakes?
Working.
Why didn't you return my DMs?
Social media cleanse. The internet's for trolls.
Come on. There aren't as many trolls as people say.
The existence of troll farms hasn't been 100% proven.
No.
Are you gonna order anything? The line's kind of long.
Why Erin is not being nice to Yuri?
I thought we were going to have lots and lots of babies.
We can name them after your father's mother.
What was her name?
Maiden name, please.
Do you even like me? Or are you just using me to get to my dad?
That hurts, actually.
Yuri's love is like sprinkles around your ice cream heart.
Yuri and Erin is like Kim and Greg from that popular American TV show,
Yes, Dear.
Makes your father so happy the way I treat you.
As happy as his first childhood pet.
Which was called...
What's going on here?
- Just getting dessert, sir. - Before a battle?
God! Why are you all so lame?
She has soft serve, sir.
- Get on the trucks! - Aw, come on!
I just put my order in.
Right now is when you decide to have a backbone? Let's go!
Shut up, dude. Shut up. What is wrong with you?
This ain't the third grade, ma'am. Take your froyo like an adult.
I am an adult. As a matter of fact, I outrank you.
So why don't you go ahead and walk in front of me
while I finish this, Sergeant? That's an order.
What's up, guys? I used to be in Air Force.
Hey, let me get a quick snap with the winners?
Yeah, now we're talking.
The science portion of Space Flag has concluded.
Congrats to...
whoever won.
All that matters is lunar combat.
It's for 100 points.
If your suit is popped, just go limp,
and you'll be marched home like a sack of manure on a pair of stilts.
The mission's over for you, but those pants fight another day.
Man, we about to get BB'd up.
I'd rather just get regular shot.
You know how bitches love the gunshot wounds.
Whoa, whoa.
Bitches don't like to be called bitches anymore.
Yeah, well, bitches don't like a lot of things, so...
You know that word originated in the 15th century
as a way to demean women
who were just trying to express their sexual desires?
Why do you know that?
My college gender studies professor made me write a paper about it
after I called her a bitch.
- She sound like a bitch. - Hey! Come on.
But she was one, two times.
All right. Hey. All right.
Hey, do you have a charger?
Yeah. Charge this.
Do you have a charger?
Air Force ready?
Hooah!
Space Force ready?
Yes.
Let's get it on!
Ho! Hooah!
Here they come! Spacemen!
Now is the time to prove ourselves. Now is the time to shine!
- Get off your phone! - Okay, yeah.
Pump your weapons!
Pump 'em!
Pump 'em! Pump 'em!
Alpha Squad! Move out!
Go, go!
Move out!
Go! Move out!
Oldsters!
Some gentle stretching!
Move out!
Wait, wait, wait, wait.
There are a hundred screens, can't one of them be PBS?
You can't hide forever, Nerd!
I'm gonna eat your liver!
Boy, it's a hot one today.
"C," let's go!
Move out, boys! Move! Move! Move!
Is this footage in slo-mo?
- Come on! - I got you, go!
That's it, Space Force, cover and run.
God.
Man down. Walk his combat suit back to base.
Shit! That was close!
They're everywhere!
Come on! Get up, spacemen! Show some heart!
Go! Go!
There you go!
- Yeah! - That's the spirit, that's the...
- God! - No!
- Julio! Duct tape! - Duct tape! No!
- I got you. I got you. - Duct tape!
God.
It's too late. It's too late.
- God. - Okay.
I got it.
I'll avenge you, bro.
Kick their ass!
Come on, you got this, man. Make me proud!
Go, spaceman. Go, spaceman.
Yeah, that's the Space Force spirit! Attack!
Yeah. Go. Go.
That's ugly.
Captain Ali, it's up to you. Advance!
Don't worry.
My paper was on pincer movements.
Cover me, Sergeant.
Okay.
I got you!
Step up!
Yeah, baby! That's what I'm talking about!
- Damn, I'm down. - Yeah.
- Really? - Get him, Staff Sergeant!
Hooah!
Yeah.
Go, go!
My God.
You mother...
I'll go warm up the truck.
Like Hitler in his bunker, Naird has been abandoned by everyone.
Is he man enough to take his own life?
That's my fault.
And that is my fault, and I apologize, right...
Okay, noncombatant! Noncombatant!
Non... Press! Press!
Press! Press! Press!
What the fuck?
How's it going, General?
Congratulations, Adrian,
you made your point by making us all look like fools.
Crushing the spirits of your own team.
My God, I even picked you first.
You know what?
Remind me to never put myself in a situation where I need your help.
Chan.
Be ready with it.
Where are you going?
To war.
The general needs his aide-de-camp.
Dude, this is the weirdest day.
Hooah!
Advance!
Space Force is down to two.
Kali Maa.
Kali Maa shakti de!
I smell Nerd!
Come out, come out, wherever you are!
Mallory! Mallory!
Right on the ankle.
- So now they have cars on the moon? - Hush.
I'm here to help.
Well, it's down to just me, so you might be too late.
Chan, now.
Command-shift-6.
- Yes, sir. Implementing. - Air Force! Attach your scissors!
On my signal!
Charge!
What the hell?
Can't move my legs, sir!
The system's malfunctioning. They're all immobilized!
They're not responding.
Have at it.
Thank you.
No.
My God.
Don't you do it, Naird!
Ha!
You're still an ass!
Space Force!
No more Red Team.
And the winner is Space Force!
- Space Force! - Yeah!
Yes! Yes!
In your face!
Yeah, bitch!
Everyone should be proud.
You acquitted yourselves well.
We got ice cream, sir.
Enjoy it.
That goes for all of you.
Enjoy life while you can.
For only the dead have seen the end of war.
We got sprinkles, sir.
Jesus.
Thanks for showing up today.
I hope this helps wash away
some of those painful childhood memories of basketball in school.
Ski memories, in my case.
I'm actually rather good at the shooting of baskets.
It's just physics.
Whatever helps you sleep at night.
Do meet me at the gym tomorrow.
I will destroy you.