Disclaimer- I don't own any part of the movie or novel 'The Fifth Element'. Some of this chapter belongs to the novel by Terry Bisson based on the story and screenplay by Luc Besson. Credits to them.

I'm using part of the novel to set the scene, so I'm sorry if I'm breaking copy write laws or something.


The blast wave from the explosion of the Fhloston Paradise carried out in waves like the ripples from a stone thrown into a pond.
Big stone. Big pond. Big ripples.

Flying at the leading edge of the cloud of dust, debris and detritus was a mauve magnetic digital sarcophagus, which rumbled end over end over end, and…

Fell into a snow bank on an untracked glacier high on the shoulder of an inaccessible range of unexplored peaks near the middle of an unmapped polar continent.

High in the towers of Manhattan, in Zorg's office, the phone was ringing. The secretary paused in her task of polishing her nails, long enough to pick it up.


"ZXXDXDX those damned XXSSZXC!"

"Oh, Mr. Zorg. I was so worried."

"I was ZXZXZXSW in the ZXZXS!"

"Sorry, I can't hear you so well."

High on the polar mountains of the planet Fhlosten, a figure clambered out of a sarcophagus shaped hole in the snow.


Bruised, battered, bloodied… but unbowed. He was carrying a cellular phone.

"Can you hear me better now?"

"Yes. Mr. Zorg, I can hear you perfectly. How was the concert?"

"Listen up, instead of running off at the mouth! My batteries are almost gone."

"Sorry, sir!"

"Send me another ZFX200, immediately!"

"Right away, sir. I'll send it to the hotel."

"I'm not at the hotel! There is no hotel!"


"Hello! Hello!"

Battery dead.

Silence. A silence broken only by the cold howling of the polar wind. Zorg sat down on a hummock of ice.

"I need to think," he muttered.


"Commander Jones, there is an unidentified fighter ship on the boarders, asking for permission to enter," said a young man who was sitting in front of a variety of monitors with headphones looped over his head. This was only a small section of a command centre on the planets surface. Commander Jones, who was a white haired middle aged man, got up from his chair and stood over the young man.

"Well? What are you waiting for?" he asked gruffly, "try to find out who it is". The young man nodded his head and flicked a switch on a board in front of him.

"This is ground control, please state your name and business," he said into his mouth piece.

"This is ship, register 10826, to ground control. Rakat Dell speaking. I request permission to land for minor repairs," replied a static feminine voice. The young controller flicked another switch and turned to the Commander.

"Isn't Rakat Dell a bounty hunter?" he asked. Commander Jones nodded.

"Yes, she it. She's probably here to collect a bounty and cause trouble. Get her back on and deny entrance". The young man fiddled with switches, yet again.

"You have been denied entrance," he announced. An angry voice replied to him.

"Listen, if you don't let me though this ship will most likely fall apart. I'll make sure to set a course to your command centre". The young man looked towards the Commander. Commander Jones nodded his head.

"You have access to pass. Welcome to Fhloston Paradise," the young man said into his mouth piece.

"About time," Rakat Dell growled. She got her small fighter ship into gear as the lights on the space boarder flicked green. She sped her way towards the blue planet. A high pitched buzzing was emitting from one of the engines in the ship. Rakat lent over her steering control, tapped her foot impatiently as the buzzing got louder. Landing was going to be a close call.

Rakat Dell was an infamous bounty hunter. Although, she thought that fame made her easier to find. She had short dark brown hair; with a fringe that was long enough to frequently go into her eyes. Her eyes were large and dull grey, rimmed with long dark lashes. On the right side of her face was a long scar. It started at her eyebrow and ended at her ear. Her usual clothing was a pair of brown pants, tucked into knee high black work boots. Around her waist was a belt equip with two pistols, a knife and various mechanical gear. She always wore a dirty singlet that was stained with ship grease and who know whatever else. Her arms were bare and scarred. Along her left arm were various prison identification numbers. The image was complete with her permanent scowl on her mouth.

Her ship was a small fighter, equip with guns and ammo. It had two sleep tubes, only one which worked. The rest of the ship was messy and looked as though it would fall apart. She made all the repairs herself, not trusting other people. It was a slight problem in the engine that was making her land at Fhloston Paradise now.

Rakat was checking the engine panel what a bright flash drew her eyes to the window. She frowned, not worrying until she noticed it want an explosion of a large ship.

"Shit! The shields" she said, diving for the switch. Not in time. Pieces of space junk plummeted into her ship. It tore away the navigation rudder on the back of the ship along with a less important part of the ship. Rakat strapped herself into her chair as her small ship started to fall towards Fhloston Paradise. She struggles to keep control of the steering, as the ship grew hotter as it dropped from the sky. There were small machine bots she could send out, but she knew in a few seconds the ship would hit the ground. She took a deep breath as she pressed a blinking red button. All the energy left in the ship was set to the ships shields. The shield glowed red as the ship kept falling towards an unknown region of Fhloston Paradise.

As the ground rose up the meet her, Rakat pulled down the metal protectors on the window. No one saw as the ship crashed into the earth, skidding a few meters to be half buried in a snow dune. The dust settled.