Aliens

Ripley jams reverse. Nails the throttle. The APC bellows backward up the ramp. Hudson disappears under a pile of equipment as a storage rack breaks free. Hicks gets the door almost closed. Suddenly CLAWS appear at the edge. Newt screams. Against the combined efforts of Hicks, Burke and Vasquez the door is being SLOWLY WRENCHED OPEN FROM OUTSIDE. Hicks yells at a paralyzed Gorman.

HICKS

Get on the Goddamn door!

Gorman backs away, eyes wide. Hicks jams his shoulder against the latching lever and frees one hand to raise his 12-gauge. An alien head wedges through the opening, its hideous mouth opening. And Hicks jams his SHOTGUN MUZZLE between its jaws and pulls the trigger! BLAM! The creature is flung backward, its shattered head fountaining acid blood. The spray eats into the door, the deck, hits Hudson on the arm. He shrieks. They slide the door home and dog it tight.

EXT. APC

The armored vehicle roars backward up the ramp. Slams into a mass of conduit. Tears free. Ripley works the shifters, pivoting the massive machine. Everybody's shouting, trying to put out the fire. Pandemonium.

INT. / EXT. APC

Something lands on the roof with a metallic clang.

Gorman has plastered himself against a wall, as far from the door as possible. A latch lever behind his head turns. The small hatch against which he was leaning is ripped away and SOMETHING snatches him out the opening  He disappears to the waist with a shriek, legs kicking. The alien clings to the roof, pulling him out. Its tail whips over, scorpionlike, and buries a four inch stinger in Gorman's shoulder. Hicks grabs a joy stick at the FIRE-CONTROL CONSOLE and turns it rapidly. On the roof the alien looks up as servo-motors whir. A remote control turret cannon, a 20mm chain-gun, swivels toward it in a curt arc. VOOM. The creature is blasted off the vehicle's armored back and tumbles away. Gorman, slumped unconscious, is dragged back inside.

The APC rips away a section of catwalk and heads for clear air, its flank trailing fire like a comet. Ripley fights the controls as the big machine slews, broadsiding a control-room out-building. Office furniture and splintered wall sections are strewn in the APC's wake.

Suddenly, an alien arm arcs down, right in front of Ripley's face. It smashes the windshield. Glistening, hideous jaws lunge inside...

Ripley recoils. Face to face once again with the same mind-numbing horror. She reacts instinctively. Slams both sets of brakes with all her strength. The huge wheels lock. The creature flips off, landing in the headlights. Ripley hits full throttle. The APC roars forward, smashing over the abomination. Its skeletal body is crushed under the massive wheels. It rolls, tumbling... lost in the darkness behind as the machine thunders onto the causeway and away from the station.

A sound like bolts dropped in a meat grinder is coming from the APC's rear end. Hicks eases Ripley's hand back on the throttle lever. Her grip is white knuckled.

HICKS

It's okay... we're clear. We're clear. Ease up.

The grinding clatter becomes deafening even as she slows the machine.

HICKS

Sounds like a blown transaxle. You're just grinding metal.

EXT. APC

The tractor limps to a halt. A HALF-KILOMETER from the atmosphere processing station. The APC is a smoking, acid-scarred mess.

INT. APC

Ripley, still running on the adrenaline dynamo, spins out of her seat into the aisle.

RIPLEY

Newt? Where's Newt?

Feeling a tug at her pants leg she looks down. Newt is wedged into a tiny space between the driver's seat and a bulkhead. She is trembling, and looks terrified, but it's not the basket case catatonia of before.

RIPLEY

You okay?

Newt gives her a THUMBS-UP, wan but stoic. Ripley goes back to the others. Hudson is holding his arm and staring in stunned dismay at nothing, playing it all back in his mind.

HUDSON

Jesus... Jesus... I don't believe it.

Burke tries to have a look at Hudson's arm.

HUDSON

(jerking away)

I'm all right, leave it!

Ripley joins Hicks who is bent over Gorman, checking for a pulse.

HICKS

He's alive. I think he's paralyzed.

VASQUEZ

He's fucking dead!

She grabs Gorman by the collar, hauling him up roughly, ready to pulp him with her other fist.

VASQUEZ

(to Gorman)

Wake up pendejo! I'm gonna kill you, you useless fuck!

Hicks pushes her back. Right in her face.

HICKS

Hold it. Hold it. Back off, right now.

Vasquez releases Gorman. His head smacks the deck. Ripley opens Gorman's tunic, revealing a bloodless purple puncture wound.

RIPLEY

Looks like it stung him.

HUDSON

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

They turn to see Hudson at the MTOB monitors, pointing at the bio-function screens.

HUDSON

They must be like Gorman. Their signs are real low but they ain't dead!

Hudson is pale, panicky, and his voice echoes around the tiny metallic space and comes back to all of them as the near hysteria they all feel, fluttering just at the edges of their minds.

RIPLEY

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

HUDSON

(sagging)

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

Ripley and Vasquez lock eyes. Ripley doesn't want it to be "I told you so" but Vasquez reads it that way. She turns away with a snap.

INT. MED LAB

Bishop is hunched over an ocular probe doing a dissection of one of the dead parasites. Spunkmeyer enters with some electronics gear on a hand truck and parks it near Bishop's work table.

SPUNKMEYER

Need anything else?

Bishop waves "no" without looking up.

EXT. COLONY – DROP-SHIP

Spunkmeyer emerges, crossing the Tarmac to the loading ramp of the ship. As he nears the top of the ramp, his boot slips... skidding on something wet. Kneeling, he touches a small puddle of thick slime. He shrugs, and hits the controls to retract the ramp and close the doors.

INT. APC

ON VASQUEZ wired and intense.

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?

RIPLEY

(to Vasquez)

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?

Burke senses the challenge in her tone and backpedals flawlessly into conciliatory mode.

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!

VASQUEZ

Yeah, bullshit. Watch us.

HUDSON

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

Ripley faces Burke squarely and she's not pleased.

RIPLEY

Look, Burke. We had an agreement.

Burke moves in, lowering his voice. He takes her aside from the others.

BURKE

I know, I know, but we're dealing with changing scenarios here. This thing is major, Ripley. I mean really major. You gotta go with its energy. Since you are the representative of the company who discovered this species your percentage will naturally be some serious, serious money.

Ripley stares at his like he's a particularly disagreeable fungus.

RIPLEY

You son-of-a-bitch.

BURKE

(hardening)

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?

HICKS

Looks that way.

Burke starts to lose it and it's not a pretty sight.

BURKE

Look, this is a multimillion dollar operation. He can't make that kind of decision. He's just a grunt!

(glances at Hicks)

No offense.

HICKS

(coolly)

None taken.

(into mike)

Ferro, you copying?

FERRO

(voice over; static)

Standing by.

HICKS

Prep for dust-off. We're gonna need an immediate evac.

(to Burke)

I think we'll take off and nuke the site from orbit. It's the only way to be sure.

He winks. Burke looks like a kid whose toy has been snatched.

BURKE

This is absurd! You don't have the authority to –

CLACK! The sound of a rifle bolt snapping home truncates his rant. Vasquez has a pulse-rifle cradled, not exactly aimed at Burke but not exactly aimed away either. Her expression is masklike. End of discussion.

Ripley sits behind Newt, putting her arm around her.

RIPLEY

We're going home, honey.

EXT. DROP-SHIP

The ship rises through the spray thrown up by the downblast of the VTOL jets, hovering above the complex like a huge insect, its searchlights blazing.

EXT. APC

The group is filing out of the personnel carrier, which is clearly a write off. Hicks and Hudson have Gorman between them, and the others emerge into the wind. They watch the ship roar in on its final approach.

INT. DROP-SHOP COCKPIT

Ferro flicks the intercom switch several times. Thumps her headset mike.

FERRO

Spunkmeyer? Goddammit.

The compartment door behind her slides slowly back.

FERRO

(turning)

Where the fu --

Her eyes widen. It's not Spunkmeyer.

Am impression of leering jaws which blur forward, then a whirl of motion and a truncated scream. The  throttle levers are slammed forward in the melee.

EXT. APC – LANDSCAPE – STATION

They watch in dismay as the approaching ship dips and VEERS WILDLY. Its main engines ROAR FULL ON and the craft accelerates toward them even as it loses altitude. It skims the ground. Clips a rock formation. The ship slews, sideslipping. It hits a ridge. Tumbles, bursting into flame, breaking up. It arcs into the air, end over end, a Catherine wheel juggernaut.

RIPLEY

Run!

She grabs Newt and sprints for cover as a tumbling section of the ship's massive engine module slams into the APC and it explodes into twisted wreckage.

The drop-ship skips again, like a stone, engulfed in flames... AND CRASHES INTO THE STATION. A TREMENDOUS FIREBALL.

The remainder of the ground team watches their hopes of getting off the planet, and most of their superior fire power, reduced to flaming debris.

There is a moment of stunned silence, then...

HUDSON

(hysterical)

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?

(to Ripley)

You okay?

She nods. She can't disguise her stricken expression when she looks at Newt, but the little girl seems relatively calm. She shrugs with fatalistic acceptance.

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.

HUDSON

(kicking rocks)

Just tell me what the fuck we're supposed to do now. What're we gonna do now?

BURKE

(annoyed)

May be could build a fire and sing songs.

NEWT

We should get back, 'cause it'll be dark soon. They come mostly at night. Mostly.

Ripley follows Newt's look to the AP station looming in the twilight, the burning drop-ship wreckage jammed into its basal structure.

EXT. CONTROL BLOCK – NIGHT

The wind howls mournfully around the metal buildings, dry and cold.

INT. OPERATIONS

The weary and demoralized group is gathered to take stock of their grim options. Vasquez and Hudson are just setting down a scorched and dented packing case, one of several culled from the APC wreckage.

Hicks indicates their remaining inventory of weapons, lying on a table.

HICKS

This is all we could salvage. We've got four pulse-rifles with about fifty rounds each. Not so good. About fifteen M-40 grenades and two flame throwers less than half full... one damaged. And We've got four of these robot-sentry units with scanners and display intact.

He opens one of the scorched cases, revealing a high-tech servo-actuated machine gun with optical sensing equipment, packed in foam.

RIPLEY

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

HICKS

About seventeen days.

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...