Alien: Resurrection

The memory comes, and she shakes her head wearily.

RIPLEY

(softly)

Fuck...

GEDIMAN

(pretending to correct her)

"Fork".

Ever so slightly, she smiles. The smile fades, and after a moment:

RIPLEY

How did you...

GEDIMAN

How did we get you?  Blood samples from Fiori 16. On ice. Do you remember that place?

RIPLEY

Does it grow?

GEDIMAN

Does it... Yeah. Rapidly.

RIPLEY

It's a queen.

GEDIMAN

How did you know that?

RIPLEY

It'll breed. You'll die. Everyone in the... fucking...

(searches for the word, then spits it out)

... company. Will die.

GEDIMAN

Company?

WREN (O.S.)

Weyland Yutani.

He has entered behind her, comes up to the table.

WREN

Our Ripley's former employers. Terran Growth conglom, had some defense contracts under the military. Before your time, Gediman – they went under decades ago, bought out by Walmart. Fortunes of war.

(to Ripley)

You'll find things have changed a good deal since your time.

RIPLEY

1 doubt that.

WREN

We're not flying blind here, you know. This is United Systems military, not some greedy corporation. The potential benefits of this race go way beyond urban pacification. New alloys, new vaccines... there's nothing like this in any world we've seen. You should be very proud.

She laughs, bitterly.

RIPLEY

Oh, I am.

WREN

And the animal itself is wonderous. They'll be invaluable once we've harnessed them.

RIPLEY

It's a cancer. You can't teach it tricks.

This stops Wren, and he retreats silently. Ripley repeats word to herself, thinking.

RIPLEY

"Them"...

CUT TO:

INT. HALL   CONTINUOUS

As Wren is leaving the mess, he is accosted by an ensign.

ENSIGN

Doctor, General Perez is asking for you. We've been hailed.

CUT TO:

EXT. DEEP SPACE

We see the Auriga  far in the distance Suddenly A SHIP ROARS INTO FRAME, heading for it.

A small vessel, it is every bit dirty and jerry-rigged as the Auriga is pristine.

To accentuate the difference, the sudden roar of its engines is accompanied by HEAVY, THRASHING ROCK MUSIC.

CUT TO:

INT. COCKPIT – CONTINUOUS

The music is coming from nearby. Piloting the ship toward the Auriga is HILLARD, a roughskinned woman in her forties, along with RANE, a slight and quiet fellow.

Behind them stands ELGYN, the leader of the group. He has the kind of authority that doesn't need to flaunt itself. Maybe fifty, by the silver in his hair. He speaks into the vidcom

ELGYN

(good naturedly)

My authorization code is 'fuck you' , son. Now open the goddamn bay or General Perez is gonna do a Wichita stomp on your virgin ass.

He switches off.

RANE

Wichita stomp?

ELGYN

I guarantee that boy's never seen the inside of a woman.

(to Hillard)

Bring us in on three-oh descent, ride the parallel.

HILLARD

Darlin', it's done.

ELGYN

Don't cut thrust till six hundred meters. Give em a little fright.

He puts his hand on her shoulder, runs it up along her cheek as he exits.

They're more than friends.

He moves through a hallway, sticks his head in a cubicle.

ELGYN

Christie! St Just! Rise and shine. We're docking.

He proceeds into:

INT. CARGO BAY - CONTINUOUS

It's the largest space in this boat, two stories high. Taking up most of the space are two HARVESTERS, big rusty hovering threshers roughly the size of winnebagos.

As Elgyn enters, we CRANE UP to reveal ANNALEE-CALL working atop one of them. She's young, tough – at home with this motley bunch despite her youth and prettiness.

ELGYN

Call! CALL!

The music is louder here – it's blasting from a box in the corner.

Elgyn switches it off.

ELGYN

Call!

CALL

What?

ELGYN

We're docking! Are the cargo trucks secured?

CALL

I checked 'em an hour ago.

ELGYN

I don't want em so much as rattled. Any leakage, I take it out of your hide.

CALL

Trust me, boss.

ELGYN

(laughs)

Not my style.

He leans down, looks under the thresher. Lying on a gurney-like steel dolly, working under the machine, is VRIESS, chief mechanic. Late forties, in pretty good shape considering he's got no legs.

ELGYN

How's it looking?

VRIESS

It's never gonna be pretty, but she'll fly. The other one's a total fucking write-off.

ELGYN

You'll make it good.

VRIESS

Don't be so sure.

(calls out)

Call! Adjust the generator plugs!

ELGYN

(straightening up)

They just gotta run, Vriess. They don't gotta run far.

He exits.

CUT TO:

INT. HALL – CONTINUOUS

CHRISTIE is up and mostly dressed. He is black, very large, and has distinctly military bearing. He speaks with quiet, don't-fuck-with-me authority.

CHRISTIE

What's our status?

ELGYN

We're coming in. Time to enjoy a little of the general's hospitality.

ST JUST

Oh great. Army food...

ST JUST ("San-Jhoost") is slim, Asian – and the epitome of cool.

Moves quickly and silently, a sly grin playing about lips. He is strapping a contraption to his forearm. It resembles a deringer holder, but a very complex one.

ELGYN

We could use a rest, till the heat's off and Vriess can get those harvesters on their feet. This'll keep us for a couple of days, assuming the natives are friendly.

CHRISTIE

We expecting any trouble?

ELGYN

From Perez? I doubt it. Still, let's be ever vigilant.

CUT TO:

INT. CARGO BAY – CONTINUOUS

ANGLE: Vriess working intently, the extremely nasty blades of the thresher inches above his head.

VRIESS

I'm patched in. Check the sequence timer.

(no answer)

Call?

ANGLE: THE CONTROLS

A hand reaches in toward the ON switch.

ANGLE: VRIESS

VRIESS

Call?

The thresher GRINDS TO LIFE – a hundred blades and claws spinning at Vriess's head!

Vriess wheels out from under the machine in a second flat.

VRIESS

Goddamnit!

The second he's out he hits a lever and the back of the dolly flies up, transforming it into a wheelchair.

VRIESS

Johner! You son of a whore!

JOHNER jumps down from the machine, laughing. He's thickset, mean and ugly, with ugly scars crisscrossing his ugly bald head.

Thought I'd give you a little haircut there.

VRIESS

You fuck!

Call, who has been over on the other side of the thresher, ably climbs up on it and switches it off.

JOHNER

You should see your face. Vriess, you must have soiled yourself.

VRIESS

One of these days I'm gonna kill you. My hand to god.

JOHNER

Well, you already gave him your feet...

CALL

(jumping down)

You're a limp fucking scrotum, you know that?

JOHNER

Either of you want a piece of me, I'm less than busy.

VRIESS

Any time.

CALL

Vriess. Forget it. He's been sucking down too much homebrew.

JOHNER

Don't push me, little Annalee. You hang with us a while, you'll learn I'm not the man with whom to fuck.

He exits, full of annoying bravado.

VRIESS

That inbred cocksucker.

He feels his forehead, comes up with a bit of blood. Realizes how close it was...

Call looks up at the thresher.

CALL

I hate machines.

VRIESS

Well, now we know it works...

CUT TO:

EXT. AURIGA DOCKING BAY

As it opens to admit the proportionally tiny ship. The bay on the bottom of the Auriga – the doors are actually OVER the ship, which rises into the airlock.

INT. AIR LOCK

The outer doors close under the ship. Pressurized air shoot into the airlock for a few seconds, and then the inner door opens. the ship rising into the bay.

INT. BAY

The ship moves slowly along the huge dock to land gently at far end. The top of the ship is nearly level with a grated platform that runs the length of the bay.

Three soldiers in full armour stand rigid on the platform. The hatch atop the ship slowly opens. One by one the crew files out. Seeing them en masse, we get a clearer view of what separates them from this Environment. They're not wearing uniforms. They're an eclectic, fiercely indivualist group, their look varied – spots of bright color showing through militarian space gear. Johner's bright tuorquise bowling shirt. Elgy's and St Just's floorlength leather dusters. Even Vriess's chair stands out as he wheels down the platform.

What they have in common is the toughness, the wary eyes, leathery skin. The cool readiness to kill. These guys are smugglers. A long while ago, you'd have called them pirates. All eight of them emerge, one by one, looking around them. They file past the silent, uniformed soldiers. The last one suddenly puts a hand on Johner's jacket, stops him.

There is a bulge under it. A green sensor light on the back of the soldier's glove turns red when he touches the bulge.

SOLDIER

No projectile weaponry is allowed on board the vessel,  sir.

Johner opens his jacket, shows what he's packing: a large thermos.

JOHNER

Moonshine. My own. Much more dangerous.

SOLDIER

Sorry, sir.

ELGYN

(to Perez)

What, do you think we're going to hijack the vessel? All eight of us? No, I think one of your asshole crew is going to get drunk and put a bullet through the hull. We are in space, Elgyn.

He enters from the antechamber, motions for the crew to follow him.

Vriess comes abreast of the soldier.

VRIESS

Wanna check the chair?

The soldier makes no response, simply falls in behind Call, the last of them.

CUT TO:

INT. ANTECHAMBER

The long neck that connects the bay to the body of the ship. The group proceeds down it, the crew looking about them at the sterile grandeur.

ST JUST

This place is really clean.

JOHNER

(to a guard)

Hey. You got any whores on this vessel?

(the guard remains stonefaced)

Any loose women with bad eyesight?

PEREZ

I think you'll find our accomodations somewhat spartan. Although the cook sets a good table.

JOHNER

That ain't what I'm hungry for.

VRIESS

(to Call)

What's the matter?

She is looking around her, somewhat tensely.

CALL

I don't like army.

HILLARD

Yeah, join the fucking club.

CUT TO:

ANGLE: MONEY

A stack of bills dropped down on a desk, then another. They're green, and identifiably money. But they're square, about the size of cocktail napkins. The face on them is unfamiliar. Thousand dollar bills.

WIDER ANGLE: INT. PEREZIS CHAMBERS – LATER

A good sized suite, decorated in a sparse, military fashion. Perez is behind his desk, the money sitting between him and Elgyn.

PEREZ

This wasn't easy to come by.

ELGYN

Neither was our cargo. You're not pleading poverty, are you?

PEREZ

We're well funded. I mean the bills. There's not many that still deal in coin.

ELGYN

Just the ones that don't like their every transaction recorded. The fringe element. I guess that would include you, though, wouldn't it?

PEREZ

Drink?

ELGYN

Constantly. I'm guessing whatever you've got going here wasn't exactly approved by congress.

Perez pours two whiskeys.

PEREZ

(changing the subject)

So where do you go from here?

ELGYN

Out by the Handle. We've got a couple of harvesters, we can unload 'em on one of the collectives if Vriess and Call get 'em working.

PEPEZ

Call. Where'd you find her?

ELGYN

She is severely fuckable, isn't she? And the very devil with a socket wrench. I think Vriess somewhat pines.

He takes a stack of bill, smells it. He likes the smell.

ELGYN

She is curious about this little transaction. You can hardly blame her. Awfully cloak and dagger...

Perez hands a drink to Elgyn.

PEPEZ

This is an army operation.

ELGYN

Most army research labs don't have to operate outside regulated space. And they don't call for the kind of cargo we brought.

PEREZ

Do you want something, Elgyn?

ELGYN

Just bed and board, couple of days worth. If we're not imposing.

PEREZ

Not at all. Keep out of the restricted areas, don't start any fights, and mi casa is yours too.

Elgyn drinks to that.

PEREZ

I trust, of course, that you can mind your own business.

ELGYN

(smiles)

I'm famous for it.

They drink.

CUT TO:

INT. HALLWAY – RESTRICTED AREA

The 'cargo' is rolled down the corridor, armed guards flank it. It is wheeled into: