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Newt finally gets herself jammed in a corner and Hicks is able to grab her wrist.

HICKS: I got her!

Newt bites him on the hand and bolts like a shot, scuttling along beneath the floor grilling. Hicks yanks his hand back in pain.

HICKS: Owwwwww! Damn!

GORMAN: Watch her!

RIPLEY: Don't let her go!


HICKS: She's under the grill!

GORMAN: Frost, use your lantern. Frost, get your light up here!

FROST: Right here!

RIPLEY: Where'd she go?!

HICKS: She's on the other side of us!

RIPLEY: Shine your light!

BISHOP: Down here! Here, here!

FROST: Here, here!

GORMAN: There she is!

RIPLEY: Keep back! Keep back! Don't scare her!

HICKS: Grab her, man! We're going to loose her!

Newt reaches an air duct set in the baseboard and scrambles inside.

RIPLEY: Damn it!


Ripley grabs Bishop's light and dives, squirms into the duct without thinking.

FROST: She can't get out!

INT. VENTILATION ROOM: Newt enters the room and quickly turns to lock the ducts grille door. But, Ripley pushes the grille open before the child can latch it, and crawls in after her.

RIPLEY: Wait! Wait!


Newt is backed into a cul-del-sac in the tiny steel chamber. Ripley shines her light around in amazement. It is a NEST. A nest built by a child. Wadded up blankets and pillows line the space, mixed up with a haphazard array of TOYS, STUFFED ANIMALS, DOLLS, CHEAP JEWELRY, COMIC BOOKS, EMPTY FOOD PACKETS, and even a batter-operated TAPE PLAYER. She looks up at the rotating fan drum above the room while moving silently forward.

RIPLEY: It's okay. It's alright. Don't be afraid.

Ripley picks up one of the cheap jewelry pearl necklaces and holds it up in front of Newt as she moves forward.

RIPLEY: See.


Newt's not buying and is trying desperately to back further away, but the wall behind is stopping her. Nowhere to run. Nowhere, except another air duct right beside her. She dives for the hatch.

RIPLEY: Wait! No you don't!


Ripley grabs her, controlling the girl in a bear hug. The child struggles wildly, like a cat at the vet's.

RIPLEY: It's okay! Everything is going to be alright now! Shhhhhh! Easy, easy...it's going to be okay. It's alright, your going to be okay. Shhhh, shhhh, shhhh,...easy...easy.


Newt goes limp, almost catatonic. Ripley looks over to her side and notices something amidst the debris...a framed photograph of Newt, dressed up and smiling. In embossed white letters underneath, it says: Second Grade Citizenship Award REBECCA JORDEN. Looking back down at Newt in her arms, Ripley strokes the girl’s hair in a motherly fashion, keeping the child calm. Newt is lost in her mind, staring at nothing.


INT. OPERATIONS - MANAGER'S OFFICE: Hicks opens the storm shutters on all the windows. We can SEE that fog has rolled in and covered up the landscape outside.


Newt sits on a desk, legs dangling over the side, looking at a point in space. Ripley enters, carrying a coffee mug. She stands and watches Gorman talk to Newt.

GORMAN: What's her name again?

DIETRICH: Rebecca.

Gorman leans in front of Newt while Dietrich watches her readouts from a portable BIO-MONITORING terminal in her hand.

GORMAN: Now think, Rebecca. Concentrate. Just start at the beginning. Where are your parents?

No response.

GORMAN: Now look, Rebecca. You have to try and help...


RIPLEY: Gorman! Give it a rest why don't ya'.

Gorman straightens up with a sigh of dismissal.

GORMAN: Total brainlock.

DIETRICH: Physically, she's okay. Borderline malnutrition, but I don't think any permanent damage.

GORMAN: Come on. We’re wasting our time.

Gorman and Dietrich exit, leaving only Ripley with Newt. She kneels down beside the child. Newt continues to stare ahead blankly.


RIPLEY: Try this. It's a little hot chocolate.

She wraps the child's hands around the cup. Raises it to her lips for her. The girl drinks mechanically, spilling down her chin.

RIPLEY: Here you go. Ooop, that good, huh.

Ripley wipes away the spilt coco, causing some of the dirt on Newt's face to come away.

RIPLEY: Uh oh. I made a clean spot here. Now I've done it. Guess I'll just have to do the whole thing.


She pours water from a squeeze-bottle onto a small cloth and gently washes the little girl's face.

RIPLEY: Hard to believe there's a little girl under all this. And a pretty on too.

Newt doesn't seem to know she's there.


RIPLEY: You don't talk much, do you?


INT. OPERATIONS / TIGHT ON MONITOR SCREEN: As an abstract of the main-colony ground-plan drifts across the screen. Searching. The ground team are gathered around a terminal in the computer center. Hudson has the main computer's CPU on-line and reading out. Hudson operates a joystick controller, which moves the ground-plan around.

HUDSON: Smoking or non-smoking?

GORMAN: Just tell me what your scanning for private?

BURKE: PDT's.

GORMAN: Huh.

BURKE: Personal-Data Transmitters. Every colonist had onensurgically implanted.

HUDSON: If they're within twenty clicks, we'll read it out here...nbut so far, zippo.


INT. OPERATIONS - MANAGER'S OFFICE : Ripley is washing Newt's tiny hands with the cloth, pink skin emerging from black grime.

RIPLEY: I don't know how you managed to stay alive. But, you'renone brave kid, Rebecca.

Newt's voice is all but inaudible.

NEWT: N-newt.

Ripley leans closer. The single syllable was incomprehensible.

RIPLEY: What did you say?

NEWT: Newt. My n-name's Newt. Nobody calls me Rebecca,nexcept my brother.

Ripley grins. She speaks quietly, not wanting to break the spell.


RIPLEY: Newt. I like that. I'm Ripley. It's nice to meet you. And who is this, huh?

Ripley lifts Newt’s filthy left hand up which still clutches a disembodied doll. Newt looks at the head.

NEWT: Casey.

RIPLEY: Hello, Casey. And what about your brother, what's his name?


NEWT: Timmy.

RIPLEY: Is Timmy around here too? Maybe hiding like you were?

Newt seems to close up, staring away from Ripley, not making eye-contact.

RIPLEY: Any sisters?

Newt shakes her head "no," barely moving.

RIPLEY: Mom and Dad?

The little girl nods, almost imperceptibly.

RIPLEY: Newt...look at me. (lifts the child’s face with her hand) Where are they?

NEWT: There dead! All right?! Can I go now?!


RIPLEY: I'm sorry, Newt. Don't you think you'd be safer here with us?

Newt shakes her head "no" with chilling certainty.

RIPLEY: These people are here to protect you. They're soldiers.

NEWT (distantly): It won't make any difference.


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

SPUNKMEYER: Need anything else?

Bishop looks up from his work at Spunkmeyer. He seems to have trouble answering the question.


SPUNKMEYER: Hello, Bishop. Do you need anything else?

BISHOP: No.

SPUNKMEYER: That's a nice pet you've got there, Bishop.


BISHOP: Magnificent, isn't it?

INT. OPERATIONS: Everyone jumps as Hudson cries out triumphantly.


HUDSON: Yo! Stop your grinnin' and drop your linen! Found 'em.

GORMAN: They alive?


HUDSON: Unknown. It looks like all of them. Over at the processing station...Sub-Level 3...under the main cooling towers.






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