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EXT. CONTROL BLOCK - NIGHT: The wind howls mournfully around the metal buildings, dry and cold. One of soldiers raises the storm windows.

INT. OPERATIONS: The weary and demoralized group are gathered to take stock of their grim options. Vasquez and Hudson bring in a box of equipment and place it on a table.

HICKS: That's everything, right?

HUDSON: Yeah.


Hicks begins to go over all the equipment on the table. Telling everyone what is there.

HICKS: All right! This is absolutely everything that we could salvage out of the APC wreckage. We've got four pulse-rifles, with about fifty rounds each. That ain't so good. You got...uh, fifteen of these M-40 grenades. Hicks sets the grenade down on the table. Newt reaches over to pick it up. Hicks stops her.

HICKS: Don't touch that. Dangerous, honey.


RIPLEY: Is that the only flame thrower?

TIGHT-ON HUDSON: He looks very nervous and high-strung.

HICKS (voice over): Yeah. It's only half full, but it's functional...


TIGHT-ON NEWT: She picks up one of the soldiers' helmet's and put it on. Her head disappears into it.


HICKS: ...and another one's damaged. I don't know about that one. But, the good news. We've got four of these robot-sentries...with display and scanners intact. They really kickass. I think they'll come in handy.

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


TIGHT-ON HICKS: As he looks at Vasquez. She gazes back with a look at loss, but underlying strength as she holds her weapon.

HICKS: Seventeen days.


HUDSON: Seventeen days? Hey, man...I don't want to rain on your parade. But, we're not going to last seventeen hours! Those things are going to come in here, just like they did before, and they're going to come in here...

RIPLEY: Hudson!

HUDSON: ...and they're going to come in here and there going to get us!

RIPLEY: Hudson! This little girl survived longer than that with no weapons and no training. Right?


Ripley indicates Newt, who salutes Hudson smartly.

HUDSON: What?! You put her in charge?!

RIPLEY: You better just start dealing with it, Hudson. Hudson, just deal with it, because we need you and I'm sick of your bullshit. Now, I want you to get on a terminal and call up some kind of floor plan file, do you understand?

HUDSON: Yeah.


RIPLEY: Construction blueprints, I don't care, anything that shows the layout of this place, are you listening?

HUDSON: Yeah.

RIPLEY: I need to see air ducts. I need to see electrical access tunnels, sub-basements. Every possible way into this complex. We don't have much time.

Hudson gathers himself, thankful for the direction.

HUDSON: Okay...okay, I'm on it.

RIPLEY: Hudson! Just relax.

Hudson exhales loudly to prepare himself and leaves the group.


Bishop moves up to the table.

BISHOP: I'll be in Med-Lab. Check on Gorman, continue my analysis.

RIPLEY: Fine. You do that.

She watches him leave. Still unnerved by his presence.


EXT. ATMOSPHERE STATION: The giant metal volcano rumbles away, unaware of the happenings of both inside and outside itself.

INT. OPERATIONS: Burke, Ripley, Hicks, Hudson and Vasquez are all bent over a large horizontal video screen, like an illumination chart table. Newt hops from one foot to the other to see.


RIPLEY: So, this service tunnel must be how they're moving back and forth.

She traces a finger down a tunnel on the map.

HICKS: That's right. It moves from the processing station right into the sub-level here. Come down on that. Okay, come over. Hold it. Go back. Punch that in right there.

He touches a spot on the screen. Newt moves up next to Hicks. He picks her up and seats her on the corner of the table.


Hicks watches closely as the blueprint is moved around.

HICKS: No. It's back.

RIPLEY: Well, there's a pressure door at this end. Couldn't we put a remote sentry unit in the tunnel and then seal that door.

HICKS: Yeah. That'll work. But, we gotta' figure on them getting into the complex.

RIPLEY: That's right. So, we repair the barricades at these intersections...

HICKS: Right.


RIPLEY: ...and weld plate-steel over these ducts here and here and...here. That way, they can only come at us from these two corridors.

HICKS: Alright, then we put the other sentry units here and here. Right?

RIPLEY: Right.

Hicks contemplates her game plan and looks over at her.


HICKS: Outstanding. Now all we need is a deck of cards.

He straightens up, satisfied.

HICKS: All right, people, let's move like we've got a purpose.

HUDSON: Aye-firmative.

NEWT (imitating Hudson): Aye-firmative.


INT. OPERATIONS - TACTICAL / TIGHT-ON MONITORS: Showing Hudson and Vasquez setting up one of the sentry units. Hicks is setting up the Keyboard Displays for the four sentry units. He opens them and types in some commands.

CLOSE-UP ON DISPLAY: As Hicks types, the screen's commands are highlighted. He sets the units to 'SEARCH' and 'AUTO.'


INT. SERVICE TUNNEL - SUB-LEVEL: 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.

HUDSON: Do your thing, baby. Come on, come on, Vasquez. Let's get the hell out of here. (into headset) Hudson here. A and B sentries are in place and keyed.

HICKS (voice over): Right.


INT. OPERATIONS - TACTICAL: Hicks sets the units to 'ARMED.'

HICKS: Stand-by. Arming now. Test it, Hudson.

INT. SERVICE TUNNEL - SUB-LEVEL

HUDSON (to Vasquez): Do it!


VASQUEZ: Fire in the hole!

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.

HUDSON: Okay! Let's get the hell out of here!


They retreat behind a heavy steel Fire Door, which they slide down closed on it's tracks.

HUDSON: We're sealing the tunnel. Come on, baby.


INT. SECOND LEVEL CORRIDOR: Burke and Newt are moving back and forth with cartons of food on a hand truck and in their arms, stacking it inside the operations center. Behind them, Hicks and Ripley are covering an air duct opening with a metal plate, welding it in place, showering sparks in the semi- dark corridor. Hicks sets down his welder and hits the plate.


HICKS: For what it's worth. Here, I want you to put this on.

He removes what looks like a wristwatch from his arm. It is a standard issue Locating Beeper.

RIPLEY: What's it for?


HICKS: It's a locator. Then I can find you anywhere in the complex on this...

He indicates a tiny Locator hooked to his battle harness.

HICKS: Itís just a precaution.

Ripley pauses for a moment, regarding him quizzically.


RIPLEY: Thanks.

HICKS: Doesn't mean we're engaged or anything.

Ripley smiles and looks at the beeper.

HICKS: Now, what's next?

She consults a printout of the floor plan.






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