Aliens

RIPLEY

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

Ripley indicates Newt, who salutes Hudson smartly.

RIPLEY

So you better just start dealing with it. Just deal with it, Hudson... because we need you and I'm tired of your bullshit. Now get on a terminal and call up some kind of floor plan file. Construction blueprints, maintenance schematics, anything that shows the layout of this place. I want to see air ducts, electrical access tunnels, subbasements. Every possible way into this wing.

Hudson gathers himself, thankful for the direction. Hicks nods approval of her handling of it.

HUDSON

Aye-firmative. I'm on it.

BISHOP

I'll be in medical. I'd like to continue my analysis.

RIPLEY

Fine. You do that.

INT. OPERATIONS

Burke, Ripley, Hudson and Hicks are bent over a large HORIZONTAL VIDEOSCREEN, like an illuminated chart table. Newt hops from one foot to the other to see.

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.

He traces a finger along the abstract ground plan.

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...

(pointing)

... 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.

Hicks contemplates her game plan and raises his hand, satisfied.

HICKS

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

HUDSON

Aye-firmative.

NEWT

(imitating Hudson)

Aye-firmative!

INT. SERVICE TUNNEL – SUBLEVEL

A long straight service tunnel, lined with conduit, seems to go on forever. Vasquez and Hudson have finished setting up two of the robot sentry guns on tripods in the tunnel.

VASQUEZ

(shouting)

Testing!

She hurls a wastebasket down the tunnel, into the automatic field of fire. The sentry guns swivel smoothly, the wastebasket bounces once... and is riddled by two quick bursts of EXPLODING 10MM ROUNDS into dime-sized shrapnel. They retreat behind a heavy steel FIRE DOOR which they roll closed on its track. Vasquez, using a PORTABLE WELDING TORCH, begins sealing the door to its frame, as Hudson paces nervously.

HUDSON

Hudson here. A and B sentries are in place and keyed. We're sealing the tunnel.

INT. SECOND LEVEL CORRIDOR

Hicks pauses in his work.

HICKS

(into mike)

Roger.

He and Ripley are covering an air duct opening with a metal plate, welding it in place, showering sparks in the dark corridor. Behind them Burke and Newt are moving back and forth with cartons of food on a hand truck, stacking it inside the operations center. Hicks sets down his welder and pulls a small object out of a belt pouch. A braceletlike EMERGENCY LOCATING BEEPER.

HICKS

Here, put this on. Then I can locate you anywhere in the complex on this –

He indicates a tiny TRACKER hooked to his battle harness. He shrugs, a little self-consciously.

HICKS

Just a... precaution. You know.

Ripley pauses for a moment, regarding him quizzically.

RIPLEY

(strapping it on)

Thanks.

HUDSON

Uh, what's next?

She consults a printout of the floor plan.

EXT. CONTROL BLOCK

The wind has died utterly and in the even more eerie stillness a diffuse mist has rolled into shroud the complex. Visibility is low in the fog. Everything looks underwater. There is no movement.

INT. CORRIDOR

In the barricaded corridor sentry-gun "C" sits waiting, its "ARMED" light flashing green. Through a hole torn in the ceiling at the far end of the corridor the fog swirls in. Water drips. An expectant hush.

INT. MED LAB ANNEX – OPERATING ROOM

Ripley carries an exhausted Newt through the inner connecting rooms of the medical wing. She reaches an OPERATING ROOM which is small but very high-tech... vaultlike metal walls, strange equipment. Several metal cots have been set up, displacing O.R. equipment which is pushed into one corner.

Newt is resting her head on Ripley's shoulder, barely awake... out of steam. Ripley sets her on one of the cots and Newt lies down.

RIPLEY

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

NEWT

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

This obviously strikes a chord with Ripley, but she feigns cheerfulness.

RIPLEY

I'll bet Casey doesn't have bad dreams.

Ripley lifts the doll's head from Newt's tiny fingers and looks inside. It is, of course, empty.

RIPLEY

Nothing bad in here. Maybe you could just try to be like her.

Ripley closes the doll's eyes and hands her back. Newt rolls her eyes as if to say "don't pull that five-year-old shit on me, lady. I'm six."

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's expression becomes sober. She brushes damp hair back from the child's pale forehead.

RIPLEY

(quietly)

Yes, there are, aren't there.

NEWT

Why do they tell little kids that?

Newt's voice reveals her deep sense of betrayal. She's seen that the world can be just as terrifying as her most primal child's nightmare if not more so, and that's a lot worse than finding out there is no Santa.

RIPLEY

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

NEWT

Did one of those things grow inside her?

Ripley begins pulling blankets up an tucking them in around her tiny body.

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

(quietly)

Gone.

NEWT

You mean dead.

It's more statement than question. Ripley nods slowly.

She turns, reaching for a PORTABLE SPACE HEATER sitting nearby, and slides it closer to the bed. She switches it on. It HUMS and emits a cozy orange glow.

NEWT

Ripley, I was just thinking... Maybe I could do you a favor and fill in for her. Just for a while. You can try it and if you don't like it, it's okay. I'll understand. No big deal. Whattya think?

Ripley gazes at her a long time before answering... a conflict between the urge to crush the child to her in a forever hug and the knowledge that neither of them may see another dawn.

RIPLEY

I think it's not the worst idea I've heard all day. Let's talk about it later.

She switches off the light and starts to rise. Newt grabs her arm. A plaintive voice in the dark.

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.

Newt looks at the VIDEO SECURITY CAMERA above the door. Ripley unsnaps the TRACKER BRACELET given to her by Hicks and puts it on Newt's tiny wrist, cinching it down.

RIPLEY

Here. Take is for luck. Now go to sleep... and don't dream.

Ripley walks away and Newt rolls on her side, hugging Casey and gazing at the hypnotically pulsing function light on the bracelet. The space heater hums comfortingly.

INT. MED LAB

EXTREME CLOSEUP – Gorman, his eyelids slitted open like those of a corpse, but with the eyes tracking erratically. The only sign of life.

RIPLEY

(voice over)

How is he?

Ripley stands over the Lieutenant, who is lying motionless on an examining table. Bishop looks up from his instruments nearby, the light of a single gooseneck lamp giving his features a macabre cast.

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...

Ripley points at the stasis cylinders containing the face-hugger specimens.

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.

Ripley ponders the ramifications of Bishop's analysis.

RIPLEY

(rising)

I want those specimens destroyed as soon as you're done with them. You understand?

Bishop glances at the creatures, pulsing malevolently in their cylinders.

BISHOP

Mr. Burke have instructions that they were to be kept alive in stasis for return to the company labs. He was very specific.

Ripley feels the fabric of her self-restraint tearing. She slaps the intercom switch.

RIPLEY

Burke!

INT. MED LAB ANNEX

In a small observation chamber separated from the med lab by a glass partition, Ripley and Burke have squared off.

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

(stepping on him)

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

Ripley's fury is peaking, now that the frustration and rage finally have a target to focus on.

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.

He shrugs, his manner blase, dismissive.

BURKE

It was a bad call, that's all.

Ripley snaps. She slams him against the wall, surprising herself and him, her hands gripping his collar.

RIPLEY

Bad call? These people are fucking dead, Burke! Well, they're going to nail your hide to the shed... and I'll be there when they do.

She steps back, shaking, and looks at him with utter loathing, as if the depths of human greed are a far more horrific revelation than any alien.

BURKE

(sadly)

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