Aliens

HUDSON: Movement!

APONE: Position?

HUDSON: Can't lock up...

APONE: Talk to me, Hudson.

HUDSON: Uh, seems to be in front and behind.

HUDSON: Hey, 'Top.' What's the op?

APONE: Rescue mission. There's some juicy colonists' daughters we gotta rescue from virginity.

HUDSON: Whoooah! No shit? I'm impressed.

APONE: Let's go...let's go. Cycle through!

HUDSON: This floor's freezing.

APONE: Christ. I never saw such a buncha old women. You want me to fetch your slippers, Hudson?

HUDSON: Would you, Sir?

GORMAN: Uh,...Apone, I want you to lay down a suppressing fire with the incinerators and fall back by squads to the APC, over.

APONE: Say again? All after incinerators?

GORMAN: Flame-units only. I want rifles slung.

APONE: Let's go. Pull 'em out.

GORMAN: First squad up, on line. Hicks, get yours in a cordon. Watch the rear.

APONE: Vasquez, take point. Let's move.

GORMAN: Set down sixty meters this side of the telemetry mast. Immediate dust off on my 'clear,' then stay on station.

APONE: Ten seconds, people. Look sharp!

GORMAN: Okay, let's do it.

APONE: Awright! I want a nice clean dispersal this time.

GORMAN: ...that's better. Pan it around a bit.

APONE: Awright. Fire-team A. Gear up. Let's move. Two minutes. Somebody wake up Hicks.

RIPLEY: You did okay, Bishop.

BISHOP: Well, thanks, I --

BISHOP: Ripley...

RIPLEY: She's alive. They brought her here and you know it.

BISHOP: In seventeen minutes this place will be a cloud of vapor the size of Nebraska.

RIPLEY: HOW MUCH TIME?

BISHOP: PLENTY! TWENTY-SIX MINUTES!

RIPLEY: WE'RE NOT LEAVING!

RIPLEY: It's going to be closer. You better get going.

BISHOP: See you soon.

BISHOP: I'll go.

RIPLEY: What?

BISHOP: I'm really the only one qualified to remote-pilot the ship anyway. Believe me, I'd prefer not to. I may be synthetic but I'm not stupid.

RIPLEY: All right. Let's get on it. What'll you need?

RIPLEY: And it's too late to shut it down?

BISHOP: I'm afraid so. The crash did too much damage. The overload is inevitable, at this point.

BISHOP: That's it. See it? Emergency venting.

RIPLEY: How long until it blows?

BISHOP: I'm projecting total systems failure in a little under four hours. The blast radius will be about thirty kilometers. About equal to ten megatons.

RIPLEY: Which would mean lots of those parasites, right? One for each person...over a hundred at least.

BISHOP: Yes. That follows.

RIPLEY: But these things come from eggs...so where are all the eggs coming from.

BISHOP: That is the question of the hour. We could assume a parallel to certain insect forms who have hivelike organization. An ant of termite colony, for example, is ruled by a single female, a queen, which is the source of new eggs.

RIPLEY: You're saying one of those things lays all the eggs?

BISHOP: Well, the queen is always physically larger then the others. A termite queen's abdomen is so bloated with eggs that it can't move at all. It is fed and tended by drone workers, defended by the warriors. She is the center of their lives, quite literally the mother of their society.

RIPLEY: Could it be intelligent?

BISHOP: Hard to say. It may have been blind instinct...attraction to the heat of whatever...but she did choose to incubate her eggs in the one spot where we couldn't destroy her without destroying ourselves. That's if she exists, of course.

BISHOP: I've isolated a neuro-muscular toxin responsible for the paralysis. It seems to be metabolizing. He should wake up soon.

RIPLEY: Now let me get this straight. The aliens paralyzed the colonists, carried them over there, cocooned them to be hosts for more of those...

BURKE: I expected more of you, Ripley. I thought you would be smarter than this.

RIPLEY: Sorry to disappoint you.

RIPLEY: You sent them out there and you didn't even warn them, Burke. Why didn't you warn them?

BURKE: Look, maybe the thing didn't even exist, right? And if I'd made it a major security situation, the Administration would've stepped in. Then no exclusive rights, nothing.

BURKE: Those specimens are worth millions to the bio-weapons division. Now, if you're smart we can both come out of this heroes. Set up for life.

RIPLEY: You just try getting a dangerous organism past ICC quarantine. Section 22350 of the Commerce Code.

BURKE: You've been doing your homework. Look, they can't impound it if they don't know about it.

RIPLEY: But they will know about it, Burke. From me. Just like they'll know how you were responsible for the deaths of one hundred and fifty-seven colonists here --

BURKE: Now, wait a second --

RIPLEY: You sent them to that ship. I just checked the colony log... directive dates six-twelve-seventy-nine. Signed Burke, Carter J.

RIPLEY: You son of a bitch.

BURKE: Don't make me pull rank, Ripley.

RIPLEY: What rank? I believe Corporal Hicks has authority here.

BURKE: Corporal Hicks!?

RIPLEY: This operation is under military jurisdiction and Hicks is next in chain of command. Right?

BURKE: Well, I mean...I know this is an emotional moment, but let's not make snap judgments. Let's move cautiously. First, this physical installation had a substantial dollar value attached to it --

RIPLEY: They can bill me. I got a tab running. What's second?

BURKE: This is clearly an important species we're dealing with here. We can't just arbitrarily exterminate them --

RIPLEY: Bullshit!

RIPLEY: No good. How do we know it'll effect their biochemistry? I say we take off and nuke the entire site from orbit. It's the only way to be sure.

BURKE: Now hold on a second. I'm not authorizing that action.

RIPLEY: Why not?

RIPLEY: They're right under the primary heat exchangers.

BURKE: Yeah? Maybe the organisms like the heat, that's why they built...

RIPLEY: That's not what I mean. Gorman, if your men have to use their weapons in there, they'll rupture the cooling system.

BURKE: She's right.

RIPLEY: That the atmosphere processor?

BURKE: Uh-hunh. One of thirty or so, all over the planet. They're completely automated. We manufacture them, by the way.

RIPLEY: I hope you're right. I really do.

BURKE: I suggest you study the disks Ripley has been kind enough to prepare for you.

RIPLEY: You never said anything about an android being here! Why not?

BURKE: Well, it didn't occur to me. It's been policy for years to have a synthetic on board.

BURKE: Yello? Oh, Ripley. Hi...

RIPLEY: Burke, just tell me one thing. That you're going out there to kill them. Not study. Not bring back. Just burn them out...clean ...forever.

BURKE: That's the plan. My word on it.

BURKE: Yes, and I've read it. You wake up every night, sheets soaking, the same nightmare over and over...

RIPLEY: No! The answer is no. Now please go. I'm sorry. Just go, would you.

RIPLEY: Yeah, yeah. I saw the commercial.

BURKE: I heard you were working in the cargo docks.

RIPLEY: That's right.

BURKE: Running loaders, forklifts, that sort of thing?

RIPLEY: It's all I could get. Anyway, it keeps my mind off of... everything. Days off are worse.

BURKE: What if I said I could get you reinstated as a flight officer? And that the company has agreed to pick up your contract?

RIPLEY: If I go.

BURKE: If you go. It's a second chance, kiddo. And it'll be the best thing in the world for you to face this fear and beat it. You gotta get back on the horse...

RIPLEY: Spare me, Burke. I've had my psych evaluation this month.

RIPLEY: What about you? What's your interest in this?

BURKE: Well, the corporation co-financed that colony with the Colonial Administration, against mineral rights. We're getting into a lot of terraforming...'Building Better Worlds.'

RIPLEY: No. There's no way!

BURKE: Hear me out...

RIPLEY: I was reamed, steamed and dry-cleaned by you guys...and now you want me to go back out there? Forget it.

BURKE: You had them eating out of your hand, kiddo.

RIPLEY: They had their minds made up before I even went in there. They think I'm a head case.

BURKE: You are a head case. Have a donut.

RIPLEY: You read my deposition...it's complete and accurate.

BURKE: Look, I believe you, but there are going to be some heavyweights in there. You got Feds, you got interstellar commerce commission, you got colonial administration, insurance company guys...

RIPLEY: I get the picture.

BURKE: Just tell them what happened. The important thing is to stay cool and unemotional.

RIPLEY: Amy.

BURKE: Cancer. Hmmmm. They still haven't licked that one. Cremated. Interred Parkside Repository, Little Chute, Wisconsin. No children.

RIPLEY: Is she...?

BURKE: Amanda Ripley-McClaren. Married name, I guess. Age: sixty-six ...at time of death. Two years ago. I'm sorry.

RIPLEY: Have they located my daughter yet?

BURKE: Well, I was going to wait until after the inquest...

RIPLEY: Fifty-seven...oh, Christ...

BURKE: You'd drifted right through the core systems. It's blind luck that deep-salvage team caught you when they...are you all right?

BURKE: We're talking thermonuclear explosion.

GORMAN: Shit. Apone, collect magazines from everybody. We can't have any firing in there.

BURKE: What's he scanning for?

GORMAN: PDT'S. Personal-Data Transmitters. Every adult colonist had one surgically implanted.

GORMAN: Looks like you company can write off its share of this colony.

BURKE: It's insured.

BURKE: Still nothing from the colony?

GORMAN: Dead on all channels.

BURKE: Look, we don't know what's going on out there. It may just be a down transmitter. But if it's not, I want you there...as an advisor. That's all.

GORMAN: You wouldn't be going in with the troops. I can guarantee your safety.

BURKE: These Colonial Marines are some tough hombres, and they're packing state-of-the-art firepower. Nothing they can't handle...right, Lieutenant?

GORMAN: We're trained to deal with these kinds of situations.

RIPLEY: How do you feel?

GORMAN: All right, I guess. One hell of a hangover. Look, Ripley... I...

RIPLEY: Forget it.

GORMAN: I told them to fall back...

RIPLEY: They're but off! Do something!

RIPLEY: GET THEM OUT OF THERE! DO IT NOW!

GORMAN: Shut up. Just shut up!

GORMAN: So.

RIPLEY: So...then the fusion containment shuts down.

GORMAN: So? So?

GORMAN: What is it?

RIPLEY: I don't know.

GORMAN: Proceed inside.

GORMAN: Where are your parents? You have to try...

RIPLEY: Gorman! Give it a rest would you.

RIPLEY: One of us?

GORMAN: Apone...where are your people? Anybody in D-Block?

GORMAN: Hold at forty. Slow circle of the complex.

RIPLEY: The structure seems intact. They have power.

RIPLEY: How may drops is this for you, Lieutenant?

GORMAN: Thirty-eight...simulated.

GORMAN: We're not making that out too well. What is it?

HUDSON: You tell me. I only work here.

HUDSON: Hah! Stop your grinnin' and drop your linen! Found 'em.

GORMAN: Alive?

HUDSON: Unknown. But, it looks like all of them. Over at the processing station...sublevel 'C' under the south tower.

HUDSON: Sir, the CPU is on-line.

GORMAN: Okay, stand by in operations. Let's go.

GORMAN: All right, the area's secured. Let's go in and see what their computer can tell us. First team head for operations. Hudson, see if you can get their CPU on line. Hicks, meet me at the south lock by the up-link tower...

GORMAN: ...We're coming in.

HUDSON: He's coming in. I feel safer already.

GORMAN: Are there any questions? Hudson?

HUDSON: How do I get out of this chicken-shit outfit?

GORMAN: At ease. I'm sorry we didn't have time to brief before we left Gateway but...

HUDSON: Sir?

GORMAN: Yes, Hicks?

HUDSON: Hudson, Sir. He's Hicks.

GORMAN: What's the question?

HUDSON: Is this going to be a stand-up fight, Sir, on another bug-hunt?

GORMAN: All we know is that there's still no contact with the colony and that a xenomorph may be involved.

HUDSON: Let's go! Let's go!

HICKS: Fuckin' A!

HICKS: Well you're not reading it right!

HUDSON: Six meters. Five. What the fu --

HUDSON: Seventeen meters.

HICKS: Let's get these things lit.

HICKS: The corner! Ready?

HUDSON: Do it!

HUDSON: Maybe we got 'em demoralized.

HICKS: I want you two walking the perimeter. I know we're all in strung out shape but stay frosty and alert. We've got to stop any entries before they get out of hand.

HICKS: We got problems.

HUDSON: I don't fucking believe this. Do you believe this?

HICKS: Outstanding. Then all we need's a deck of cards. All right, let's move like we got a purpose.

HUDSON: Aye-firmative.

HUDSON: Well that's great! That's just fucking great, man. Now what the fuck are we supposed to do, man? We're in some real pretty shit now!

HICKS: Are you finished? You okay?

HUDSON: Let's get the fuck out of here!

HICKS: Not that tunnel, the other one!

HICKS: Save it.

HUDSON: Sure, Hicks.

RIPLEY: Ellen.

HICKS: Don't be long, Ellen.

RIPLEY: Hicks, don't let him leave.

HICKS: We ain't going anywhere.

RIPLEY: No! No! She's alive! We have to --

HICKS: All right! She's alive. I believe it. But we gotta get moving! Now!

RIPLEY: Locked.

HICKS: Stand back.

RIPLEY: They learned. They cut the power and avoided the guns. They must have found another way in, something we missed.

HICKS: We didn't miss anything.

HICKS: It's game time.

RIPLEY: Get back here, both of you. Fall back to Operations.

RIPLEY: You know, Burke, I don't know which species is worse. You don't see them screwing each other over for a fucking percentage.

HICKS: Let's waste him. No offense.

HICKS: Wait a minute. We'd know about it.

RIPLEY: The only way it would work is if he sabotaged certain freezers on the trip back. Then he could jettison the bodies and make up any story he liked.

RIPLEY: What's this?

HICKS: Well, that's the grenade launcher ...you probably don't want to mess with that.

RIPLEY: Look, you started this. Now show me everything. I can handle myself.

HICKS: Yeah. I've noticed.

RIPLEY: They'll get us.

HICKS: Maybe. Maybe not.

RIPLEY: Hicks, I'm not going to wind up like those others. You'll take care of it won't you, it if comes to that?

HICKS: If it comes to that, I'll do us both. Let's see that it doesn't Here, I'd like to introduce you to a close personal friend of mine.

HICKS: Newt time then can walk right up and knock.

RIPLEY: But they don't know that. They're probably looking for other ways to get in. That'll take them awhile.

RIPLEY: Now many?

HICKS: Can't tell. Lots. D gun's down to twenty. Ten. It's out.

HICKS: They're in the approach corridor.

RIPLEY: On my way.

RIPLEY: All right. There's a fire door at this end. The first thing we do is put a remote sentry in the tunnel and seal that door.

HICKS: We gotta figure on them getting into the complex.

RIPLEY: That's right. So we put up welded barricades at these intersections... ...and seal these ducts here and here. Then they can only come at us from these two corridors and we create a free field of fire for the other two sentry units, here.

RIPLEY: How long after we're declared overdue can we expect a rescue?

HICKS: About seventeen days.

RIPLEY: Removed surgically before embryo implantation. Subject: Marachuk, John L. Died during procedure. They killed him getting it off.

HICKS: Poor bastard.

HUDSON: It's inside the complex.

VASQUEZ: You're just reading me.

HUDSON: No. No! It ain't you. They're inside. Inside the perimeter. They're in here.

HUDSON: Oh, man. And I was gettin' short, too! Four more weeks and out. Now I'm gonna buy it on this fuckin' rock. It ain't half fair, man!

VASQUEZ: Hudson, give us a break.

VASQUEZ: Yeah, bullshit. Watch us.

HUDSON: Maybe you haven't been keeping up on current events, but we just got out asses kicked, pal!

VASQUEZ: All right, we can't blow the fuck out of them...why not roll some canisters of CN-20 down there. Nerve gas the whole nest?

HUDSON: Look, man, let's just bug out and call it even, okay?

HUDSON: Somebody said alien...she thought they said illegal alien and signed up.

VASQUEZ: Fuck you.

HUDSON: Anytime. Anywhere.

HUDSON: Hey, Vasquez...you ever been mistaken for a man?

VASQUEZ: No. Have you?

HUDSON: Nine meters. Eight.

RIPLEY: Can't be. That's inside the room!

HUDSON: It's readin' right. Look!

HUDSON: Twelve meters. Man, this is a big fucking signal. Ten meters.

RIPLEY: They're right on us. Vasquez, how you doing?

HUDSON: Fifteen meters.

RIPLEY: I don't know, an acid hole in a duct. Something under the floors, not on the plans. I don't know!

HUDSON: Range twenty meters.

RIPLEY: Seal the door.

HUDSON: This signal's weird...must be some interference or something. There's movement all over the place...

RIPLEY: Just get back here!

RIPLEY: They cut the power.

HUDSON: What do you mean, they cut the power? How could they cut the power, man? They're animals.

RIPLEY: Well then somebody's just going to have to go out there. Take a portable terminal and go out there and plug in manually.

HUDSON: Oh, right! Right! With those things running around. No way.

RIPLEY: We need the other drop-ship. The on one the Sulaco. We have to bring it down on remote, somehow.

HUDSON: How? The transmitter was on the APC. It's wasted.

RIPLEY: I don't care how! Think of a way. Think of something.

HUDSON: Think of what? We're fucked.

RIPLEY: What about the colony transmitter? That up-link tower down at the other end. Why can't we use that?

RIPLEY: Thanks.

HUDSON: Uh, what's next?

RIPLEY: This service tunnel is how they're moving back and forth.

HUDSON: Yeah, right, it runs from the processing station right into the sublevel here.

HUDSON: Man, we're not going to make it seventeen hours! Those things are going to come in here, just like they did before, man... they're going to come in here and get us, man, long before...

RIPLEY: She survived longer than that with no weapons and no training.

RIPLEY: You can't help them. Right now they're being cocooned just like the others.

HUDSON: Oh, God. Jesus. This ain't happening.

RIPLEY: Looks like it stung him.

HUDSON: Hey...hey! Look, Crowe and Dietrich aren't dead, man.

HUDSON: Sounds like you, Hicks.

RIPLEY: The embryo, the second form, hosts in the victim's body for several hours. Gestating. Then it... ...then it...emerges. Moults. Grows rapidly --

LYDECKER: You remember you sent some wildcatters out to that plateau, out past the Ilium range, a couple days ago?

SIMPSON: Yeah. What?

LYDECKER: There's a guy on the horn, mom-and-pop survey team. Says he's homing on something and wants to know if his claim will be honored.

SIMPSON: Christ. Some honch in a cushy office on Earth says go look at a grid reference in the middle of nowhere, we look. They don't say why, and I don't ask. I don't ask because it takes two weeks to get an answer out here and the answer's always 'don't ask.'

LYDECKER: So what do I tell this guy?

SIMPSON: Tell him, as far as I'm concerned, he finds something it's his.

MED-TECH: Bad dreams again? Do you want something to help you sleep?

RIPLEY: No.. I've slept enough.

MED-TECH: And how are we today?

RIPLEY: Terrible.

MED-TECH: Just terrible? That's better than yesterday at least.

RIPLEY: How long have I been on Gateway station?

MED-TECH: Just a couple of days. Do you feel up to a visitor?

NEWT: Are we going to sleep now?

RIPLEY: That's right.

NEWT: Can we dream?

RIPLEY: Yes, honey. I think we both can.

NEWT: Mommy...Mommy?

RIPLEY: Right here, baby. Right here.

NEWT: I knew you'd come.

RIPLEY: Newt, I want you to hang on, now. Hang on tight.

NEWT: This way. Come on, we're almost there!

RIPLEY: Newt, wait!

NEWT: Come on. Crawl faster.

RIPLEY: DO you know how to get to the landing field from here?

NEWT: Sure. Go left.

RIPLEY: Burke! Open the door!

NEWT: Look!

NEWT: Mommy...I mean, Ripley...I'm scared.

RIPLEY: I know, honey. Me too.

RIPLEY: Newt. Newt, wake up.

NEWT: Wah...? Where are...?

RIPLEY: Sssh. Don't move. We're in trouble.

NEWT: Don't go! Please.

RIPLEY: I'll be right in the other room, Newt. And look...I can see you on that camera right up there.

RIPLEY: I don't know, Newt. That's the truth.

NEWT: Isn't that how babies come? I mean people babies...they grow inside you?

RIPLEY: No, it's different, honey.

NEWT: Did you ever have a baby?

RIPLEY: Yes. A little girl.

NEWT: Where is she?

RIPLEY: Gone.

NEWT: You mean dead.

RIPLEY: Well, some kids can't handle it like you can.

NEWT: Did one of those things grow inside her?

RIPLEY: Yes, there are, aren't there.

NEWT: Why do they tell little kids that?

NEWT: Ripley...she doesn't have bad dreams because she's just a piece of plastic.

RIPLEY: Oh. Sorry, Newt.

NEWT: My mommy always said there were no monsters. No real ones. But there are.

RIPLEY: Now you just lie here and have a nap. You're exhausted.

NEWT: I don't want to...I have scary dreams.

NEWT: I guess we're not leaving, right?

RIPLEY: I'm sorry, Newt.

NEWT: You don't have to be sorry. It wasn't your fault.

NEWT: I was the best at the game. I knew the whole maze.

RIPLEY: The 'maze'? You mean the air ducts?

NEWT: Yeah, you know. In the walls, under the floor. I was the ace. I could hide better than anybody.

RIPLEY: You're really something, ace.

RIPLEY: They'd be here if they could, honey. I know they would.

NEWT: They're dead.

RIPLEY: Newt. Look at me...Newt. I won't leave you. I promise.

NEWT: You promise?

RIPLEY: Cross my heart.

NEWT: And hope to die?

NEWT: I don't want you for a friend.

RIPLEY: Why not?

NEWT: Because you'll be gone soon, like the others. Like everybody. You'll be dead and you'll leave me alone.

NEWT: Casey. She's my only friend.

RIPLEY: What about me?

RIPLEY: What did you say?

NEWT: Newt. My n-name's Newt. Nobody calls me Rebecca except my dork brother.

RIPLEY: How many colonists?

VAN LEUWEN: Sixty, maybe seventy families.

RIPLEY: Sweet Jesus.

RIPLEY: Why won't you check out LV-426?

VAN LEUWEN: Because I don't have to. The people who live there checked it out years ago and they never reported and 'hostile organism' or alien ship. And by the way, they call it Acheron now.

RIPLEY: What are you talking about. What people?

RIPLEY: Look, I can see where this is going. But I'm telling you those things exist. Back on that planetoid is an alien ship and on that ship are thousands of eggs. Thousands. Do you understand? I suggest you find it, using the flight recorder's data. Find it and deal with it -- before one of your survey teams comes back with a little surprise...

VAN LEUWEN: Thank you, Officer Ripley. That will be...

RIPLEY: ...because just one of those things managed to kill my entire crew, within twelve hours of hatching...

VAN LEUWEN: The analysis team which went over your shuttle centimeter by centimeter found no physical evidence of the creature you describe...

RIPLEY: That's because I blew it out the Goddamn airlock! Like I said.

RIPLEY: Look, I told you...

VAN LEUWEN: It did not, however, contain any entries concerning the hostile life form you allegedly picked up.