Alien³

Looks like another ten meters. Then we're into K-58-A and straight to the boat bays.

ROSETTI (V.O.)

(hollow echo)

Move! Hurry!

HICKS

Yes, sir.

They move forward.

INT. CORRIDOR – DUCT EXIT

Hicks and Jackson prepare to pull the others one at a time from the waist-high opening. It's evident that the duct, at this point, slants sharply down from the opening; it's round and smooth and difficult to climb.

INT. DUCT

From below, members of the party wedge their way up with knees and elbows.

INT. CORRIDOR – DECT EXIT

Hicks and Jackson pull Rosetti from the duct, both his hands locked around his pulse-rifle; then the Lab Tech; then Spence; they reach the Tatsumi...

SCREAMS and frenzied BANGING from the duct. Tatsumi's eyes pop wide open and he screams. Hicks braces his boot against the wall and hauls him out – with the jaws of a freshly-transformed new beast locked on his leg. Hicks whirls his rifle like an axe, the butt slamming into the thing's head. It HISSES and twists back into the duct.

INT. DUCT – POV OF THE TRAPPED FIVE

As the beast slides toward them down smooth steel.

INT. CORRIDOR – DUCT EXIT

Rosetti thrusts the barrel out of his pulse-rifle past Hicks, into the duct, and FIRES on full auto, emptying his magazine. Jackson drives for the gun as Hicks snaps him off his feet with a roundhouse punch. The back of Rosetti's head slams against the opposite wall and he slides to the deck.

Jackson's on him before he can recover, practically jamming the muzzle of the pulse-rifle down his throat.

JACKSON

Y'know, always been part of me wanted to kill one of you motherfuckers...

Rosetti looks up at her.

ROSETTI

Go ahead.

Very quiet. No sound at all from the duct. Tatsumi whimpers between clenched teeth as a wisp of acid smoke rises from his torn trouser leg. Hicks shines his light down into the duct.

HICKS

Oh man... Forget it, Jackson. Anyway, it's empty.

He tosses her a fresh magazine.

SPENCE

Hicks! The light!

She and the Lab Tech are crouching beside Tatsumi, slitting his pantleg with a knife, exposing the wound.

SPENCE

(continuing)

Watch out, it's on the cloth...

The Lab Tech yelps as a droplet of acid touches his hand. Hicks unclips his light and passes it to Spence.

SPENCE

(continuing)

On my God...

The Alien has taken a bite the size of a small grapefruit out of Tatsumi's calf; flesh and muscle are blackened, charred by the acid.

HICKS

(unclipping a flat plastic kit from his harness)

What's his name?

JACKSON

Tatsumi...

HICKS

Cocktail for ya, Tatsumi.

He opens the kit, takes out a gun-shaped hypo with a pressure tank.

HICKS

(continuing)

Can't get this on the Ginza, fella. Six times stronger than heroin, about eight other things in there to keep you up an' rockin'...

He jabs the needle through Tatsumi's pantleg; the unit HISSES.

HICKS

(continuing)

Get a Marine a year in the brig, playin' R&R with one of these...

Tatsumi moan softly as the shot hits him. Very clearly, in Japanese, he asks if it's time to go back on duty.

LAB TECH

Wha'd he say?

SPENCE

I don't know...

HICKS

We'll have to carry him.

(passes Spence a sterile dressing pack from his harness)

Think you can get a dressing on that? Not bleeding much. Like it's cauterized.

(to Rosetti)

Get up, we're moving.

(to Jackson)

Think you better hang on to the Colonel's rifle.

INT. MALL – ENTERANCE TO FREIGHT ELEVATOR

The doors look as though someone's gone after them with a giant can opener; they're ragged, gaping. Bishop's hands suddenly appear in the opening in the floor, grip the edge; he hauls himself up, arms quivering with strain. Last thing through is the useless leg; he has to pull it up with both hands.

He looks anxiously out into the mall. Nothing moving, no Aliens in sight. The queen's attack as torn loose a strip of alloy trim. Bishop bends it double for strength and begins to work it beneath the belt around his thigh, still keeping an eye on the mall.

INT. CORRIDOR TO ASSEMBLY POINT – LIFEBOAT BAY

Hicks and Jackson slogging along, dragging Tatsumi between them, Spence with the flare pistol, then Rosetti and the Lab Tech. Smoke hangs in strata.

Spence coughs. They're all feeling Anchorpoint's fire-depleted oxygen-level.

Tatsumi looks terrible: flushed, eyes glazed, but he's feeling no pain. He weakly attempts to sing a snatch of a Japanese pop song.

CLOSEUP on his bandaged leg leaving a trail of yellow drops...

LAB TECH
That's right, man. Not long now.

HICKS

Hey, Jackson – Goddamn, you were right.

He's pointing his pulse-rifle at a plastic sign mounted on the corridor wall:

LIFEBOAT BAY 20 METERS

JACKSON

(grins)

Sure. Hadda map, didn't I?

They round a corner. Ahead is one of the blue lights and another sign:

LIFEBOAT LAUNCH ASSEMBLY POINT

SPENCE

The others groups... Where's everybody else?

HICKS

Hell, they coulda launched already...

JACKSON

No.

She's looking at a wall panel with LEDs that indicate launch status of the lifeboats.

JACKSON

(continuing)

The boats are all here.

LAB TECH

Then nobody else made it...

Rosetti ignores them, keeps walking.

JACKSON

(looking after Rosetti)

I shoulda greased him.

HICKS

Shit. What's the point?

JACKSON

The point? The point's he let 'em run their fucking experiments! He coulda stopped 'em! But he didn't! You tried, man, you and Bishop... He let 'em do it!

HICKS

Shit no. He's just brass. He's just like you an' me, to the people who brought this down. Wouldn't do any good to grease them either.

JACKSON

Bullshit! What not?

HICKS

Because what you wanna grease is the company...

Rosetti breaks into a stumbling run as he nears the portal at the end of the corridor, the entrance to the lifeboat bays.

CLOSEUP – ROSETTI

Frantically punching a combination. Wants that door to open. Gets it: slides back smooth as silk, revealing a brightly lit room filled with pristine space gear and an indeterminate number of Aliens, their appendages tangled black and shiny as a fresh catch of eels.

ROSETTI

No! Goddamn it! No!

ANGLE

The Aliens stir as he throws himself back down the corridor toward the others. Hicks drops Tatsumi, who sags into Jackson's arms, and raises his rifle.

FIRES a bolt past Rosetti, into the heart of the mass. Rosetti claws his way by as Spence lets loose with the flare-pistol. All the ammo she has but it's a big red distress flare straight through the portal; it bursts, crimson lightning, scattering the Aliens. Now everyone is backing down the corridor, the way they came, Jackson burdened with Tatsumi. Rosetti fumbles with the combination on another door. Hicks is SHOOTING as he retreats. Aliens come darting out past the dying cherry brilliance of the flare, SCREAMING down the corridor... The second door open for Rosetti – he's through, the second Lab Tech on his heels.

INT. AN OFFICE

Dark – only light from the corridor, even less are Rosetti immediately tries to slam and lock the door in Spence's face – but the Lab Tech yanks him out of the way. The others tumble in, Jackson with Tatsumi in a fireman's carry.

Hicks kicks the door shut and locks it – as something SLAMS into it, hard. Jackson lowers Tatsumi to the carpeted floor.

Hicks CLICKS the light on. Swings the muzzle of his gun around the room, circle of light jumping from one thing to the next. An office, larger than Rosetti's. 21st-century stylistics and a basic bureaucratic banality: fake teak, imitation leather. Framed portraits of beaming Weyland Yutani bigshots.

Spence brushes a square object of a shelf – the base of a small hologram-projector. A glowing DNA helix springs up.

HICKS

Don't touch anything...

LAB TECH

(to Jackson, pointing at Rosetti)

He tried to lock the door, lock us out...

JACKSON

(pulling the automatic from her jacket)

Rosetti...

HICKS

Forget it. That's what he wants. You really wanna do 'im the favor?

JACKSON

Waddya mean it's what he wants?

HICKS

I've seen it before. In combat.

Rosetti backs away from them.

SPENCE (V.O.)

Hick, come here... I think it's Trent...

He finds her around the corner of a padded partition that screens a desk-console from the rest of the room. His light finds the lab-coated corpse sprawled in the chair behind the desk, a quarter of its skull blown away, dried blood spattered across the bulkhead, a service automatic locked in rigid fingers.

HICKS

(shrugs)

Did himself. Hey, Rosetti! C'mere!

Rosetti looks around the edge of the partition, sees Trent.

HICKS

(continuing)

That's it, man. That's what it looks like. You don't chill out quick, somebody'll do the same for you.

ROSETTI

(stares at the corpse)

Brilliant man. Company man. Very... ambitious.

Hicks takes the light off the corpse, plays it around the cubicle. A shredder, empty file folders, a bulging plastic sack of shredded documents.

HICKS

Yeah...

Hicks swings the light across the wall behind Trent's desk.

SPENCE

The wall, Hicks!

She's spooked him; the safety's off the pulse-rifle. But there's nothing on the wall, only framed diplomas, and between them a few stenciled letters...

SPENCE

(continuing)

Jesus Christ! It's a lock, Hicks! Airlock!

She clambers over the desk console, shoves the corpse out the way, and tears the diplomas from the wall, revealing the outline of a hatch and the stenciled notice:

EMERGENCY AIRLOCK – EXIT TO HULL-SECTOR 308

A CRASH from the corridor as Alien hurls itself against the door.

SPENCE

(continuing)

It's a chance! The only chance we've got! We get out on the hull, cross to the boats. We can try to get into one that way, from outside...

Hicks looks down at his watch. "2146 HOURS". If Bishop's managed to set the fusion package to blow at 2200 hours – they don't have a hope in hell.

But why spoil it for Spence?
 

HICKS

Let's go for it.

Spence hauls on the red airline-style inset handle of the emergency airlock. The handle flips down and the hatch pivots smoothly open, a light inside goes on, and the eternal synthi-voice announces:

ANNONCEMENT

This is a five-man emergency atmosphere lock, exit to Hull Sector Three-oh-eight, equipped with five Mark Twelve emergency suits. Each Mark Twelve suit is charged with a two-hour air supply and is equipped with automatic radar beacon, inter-suit radio, and magnetic sole plates. It you should experience difficulty with either the O-rings of the velcro strips, please activate the secondary program for additional advice.

JACKSON

There's six of us...

Space suits swings from a rack, each helmet a different color. Rosetti's pressed up close behind her, eyes fixed on the suits.

JACKSON

(continuing)

Fuck off, Rosetti; anybody stays, it's you

LAB TECH (O.S.)

Light, quick! Something's...

The Lab Tech is backing away from Tatsumi, who lies on his back on the carpeted deck, mouth gaping, eyes showing whites. A tearing SOUND as Hicks spotlights Tatsumi's bandaged leg – where the dressing is bulging, moving, seeping yellow fluid. A new-model chest-buster flails its way out of the wound and shuttles into the shadows beneath a chair. Twin red spots appear on Tatsumi's white shirt; two more of the things rip their way out through his stomach as he arches backwards, groaning – the groan cut off as a fourth chest-burster pops from his mouth...

Jackson brings her pistol up with both hands, arms locked, and SHOOTS Tatsumi in the head.

HICKS

Get in the lock! Suit up!

INT. EMERGENCY LOCK

Hicks pulls the inner door shut. The lock is white, bright, a very tight fit for the five of them. The Lab Tech reaches for one of the hanging suits, yells as a blood-slick chest-burster loses its grip and tumbles out of the suit's open front.

LAB TECH

Aaaaah!

Hicks shoulders the door – just a crack; it doesn't want to open – as Rosetti grabs a helmet and swings it underhand, knocking the little horror out of the lock. Hicks gets the door shut again.

Spence is shuddering. Rosetti is putting the helmet on, reaching for his suit.

SPENCE

J-Jesus, Rosetti... How'd you do that?

ROSETTI

(beat)

I used to be a soldier

They hurriedly strip to their underwear and struggle into space suits. Rosetti has the yellow helmet, Hicks red, Spence blue, Jackson green, and Lab Tech orange.

Spence is sealing up her space suit over freckles and a military-issue bra; Hicks sealing his over dog tags and his acid-scarred chest.

ANNOUNCEMENT

Please be seated. Fasten lapbelts.

Narrow ledges on either side of the lock. The five sit, step in. Spence and the Lab Tech closest to the outer door. Hicks and Jackson are opposite them.

ROSETTI

(filter; suit radio; turning his helmet to face Spence)

You're right, Spence. I should have tried to stop them. It would have done no good, of course, but I should have tried...