Alien³

HICKS

(filter; suit radio)

Why?

BISHOP

(filter; suit radio)

I thought you might need the time.

JACKSON

(filter; suit radio)

Bishop? Hick! Come on, we gotta get his happening!

Hicks help Bishop across the hull.

EXT. HULL – LIFEBOAT

CLOSEUP on Spence and Jackson crouching by the open service port. They've made a rainbow spaghetti out of the port's wiring, but Jackson holds one raw end of the hotwire. Spence looks up as Hicks and Bishop arrive.

SPENCE

(filter; suit radio)

What happened to you leg?

BISHOP

(filter; suit radio)

Molecular fatigue.

HICKS

(filter; suit radio)

Bishop says we gotta go now.

JACKSON

(filter; suit radio)

No shit... Well...

She thrusts the hotwire against a contact, producing a burst of sparks.

Nothing happens.

Tries again.

Nothing.

JACKSON

(continuing; filter; suit radio)

Third time's a charm.

A bigger burst of sparks. The hatch suddenly pops open with a rush of escaping AIR.

JACKSON

(continuing; filter; suit radio)

How damn! Okay!

Jackson ducks, wedges helmet and shoulder through the opening – and a queen-sized stinger erupts through the back of her neck, slicing the suit's alloy collar ring like butter. Brief but horrible SOUND on radio.

SPENCE

(filter; suit radio)

Jackson!

Jackson's being drawn into the opening by the unseen queen. Spence clutches furiously at Jackson's suit, trying to pull her back...

HICKS

(filter; suit radio)

Forget it! She's gone!

BISHOP

(filter; suit radio)

Hicks!

Hicks and Spence turn. REACTION SHOT. What they see makes her forget trying to save Jackson's body.

The boots of Jackson's space suit vanishes through the lifeboat hatch.

A queen, her crest rising against the stars, leads the swarm against them in a solid wave...

Hicks pumps the pulse-rifle's grenade launcher, sheer reflex, no consideration for the effect of recoil in zero-g (pulse-charges have been assumed to be recoilless). The recoil kick him back against the lifeboat as the BLAST takes out five of the charging Aliens; sharp CLANG of his helmet against the boat's hull.

CLOSE THROUGH FACEPLACE

Hicks losing consciousness.

ANGLE

Bishop stands alone against the advancing swarm, the boot of his locked suitleg wedge into a narrow channel in the hull. He FIRES with a robotic accuracy, the rifle pivoting like the barrel of an automated gun turret.

CLOSE ON BISHOP'S EXPRESSION

No anger, no fear – just total absorption in the task at hand.

ANGLE

Spence had Hicks' gun, is dragging him to his feet.

EXTREME CLOSEUP

On Bishop's ammo readout: working down to 01, steady as seconds on a stopwatch –
 

ANGLE

His last round is for the towering queen – Android's don't miss. Straight into the jaws. Her head explodes.

But the headless body doesn't stop. It stumbles, tumbling forward, flips over, the vast abdomen with its lashing stinger outlined agasint the stars...

As Bishop tugs his wedged foot free and rolls, as the stinger whips down to gouge a chunk of bright steel from the hull. The carcass smashed into the lifeboat.

The swarm twitches, hesitates. With the loss of the queen's unifying intelligence, the Aliens are reduced to their usual level of instinctual action.

HICKS

(filter; suit radio)

Bishop! Come on!

Hicks, with Spence, is fleeing across the hull, taking long zero-g leaps – one more worries about drifting away!
 

SPENCE

(filter; suit radio)

The mast, Bishop! The Radio mast!

Bishop starts after them, abandoning his empty pulse-rifle, trying to bound along on his good leg, the stiff one obviously in his way, three Aliens rapidly gaining on him. He loses his balance...

Hicks and Spence have almost reached the foot of the radio mast. Handholds lead out to the tip.

Hicks sees Bishop struggling to right himself, the Aliens closing in. Snatches the rifle from Spence.

HICKS

(filter; suit radio; to Spence)

Go on! Get out there!

Hicks recrosses the hull to Bishop. SHOOTS the nearest Alien, gets a grip on Bishop's suit, pulls him up, tries for the second Alien but misses. They start for the mast, Hicks FIRING back at the swarm.

Spence is a third of the way out on the mast, body drifting in space, clinging to a handhold.

Hick and Bishop haul themselves hand-over-hand along the mast.

BISHOP

(filter; suit radio)

The fusion package, Hicks... Overload...

HICKS

(filter; suit radio)

Yeah... But it means we win... Come on.

The swarm closes around the foot of the mast in a single writhing mass. One spring onto the handholds and scuttles out along the mast like a spider.

Hicks BLOWS it off.

EXTREME CLOSEUP

On ammo readout: 04.

BISHOP

(filter; suit radio)

Four minutes to overload.

ANGLE

Hicks blasts another Alien – as a deafening SQUAWK of feedback rattles the suit radios, followed by a waves of STATIC.

EXT. SPACE
 

The U.P.P. interceptor, pitted and scorched by the nuking of Rodina, settles toward Anchorpoint on steering jets.

CLOSEUP ON A GUNPORT

Sliding smoothly open, reveal the vicious-looking snout of a Gatling-style pulse-cannon.

EXT. MAST – FROM HICKS' POV

As a stream of withering fire cuts a swathe thorough the swarming Aliens.

VIETNAMESE COMMANDO (V.O.)

(filter; over static and screaming harmonics)

Come! You come!

Followed by a frantic burst in her own language.

EXT. SPACE – FROM MAST

Spence's POV as the interceptor nears the mast tip, the cannon still pumping. The airlock in the interceptor's lower surface slides open. Light from inside.

Spence kicks off from the mast, manages to grab the rim of the interceptor's airlock.

Hicks FIRES his last round into an Alien on the mast.

The interceptor still coming down, crumpling the tip of the mast in a burst of sparks as Hicks and Bishop kick off. Hicks grabs Spence's free hand; Bishop grabs Hick's ankle. Spence hauls them all into the cramped space of the airlock. The lock closes as an Alien launches itself from the mast...

INT. INTERCEPTOR AIRLOCK

SOUND of the Alien as it slams into the lock. Hicks, Bishop, Spence are crammed in like sardines.

EXT. INTERCEPTOR LOCK

The Alien scrabbling furiously for a hold...

INT. INTERCEPTOR

As the inner lock opens and the commando plunges her tattooed arms in to yank Spence free. Spence fumbles with her helmet and snaps it off. Bishop pulls himself from the lock; in spite of his leg, he dives for the ship's controls. His hands dart from one switchboard to the next. Nothing happens. He look up through his faceplate at the commando.

BISHOP

(voice muffled by his helmet)

Go!

She looks at him impassively. Beat. Then reaches past to press a sequence of three buttons.

EXT. SPACE

The interceptor. The Aliens cluster like aphids along the mast. The interceptor's ENGINES erupt in a gout of flame.

EXT. SPACE – ANOTHER ANGLE

The Alien on the airlock loses its grip, tumbles into the rocket blast.

EXT. ANCHORPOINT – INTERCEPTOR'S POV

The station is receding

The fusion package goes overload.

WHITEOUT