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EXT. CONTROL BLOCK: The wind has utterly died and in the eerie stillness, a diffuse mist has rolled in to shroud the complex. Everything looks like it's underwater. There is no movement.


INT. CORRIDOR: In the barricaded corridor, sentry guns 'C' and 'D' sit waiting, swiveling on their tripods, their 'ARMED' lights flashing green.


INT. MED-LAB ANNEX - SURGERY: 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...vault-like metal walls, strange equipment. A cot has 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: Last stop. Get in.

Ripley sets her down on the cot�s edge and Newt scoots under the covers. Ripley sits beside her.

RIPLEY: Scoot down. That's good. Now, you lie here and have a nap. You're very tired.

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

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

RIPLEY: Well, I bet Casey doesn't have bad dreams. Let's take a look.


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

RIPLEY: Nope. Nothing bad in there. See. Maybe you could just try to be like her.

Newt rolls her eyes as if to say "don't pull that six-year-old shit on me, lady. I'm seven."

NEWT: Ripley,...she doesn't have bad dreams because she's just a piece of plastic.

RIPLEY: Right. (laughs) I'm sorry, Newt.

Ripley 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.

RIPLEY: There.


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: Yes, there are, aren't there.

NEWT: Why do they tell little kids that?

Newt's voice reveals her deep sense of betrayal.

RIPLEY: Most of the time, it's true.

NEWT: Did one of those things grow inside her?

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 very different.

NEWT: Did you ever have a baby?

RIPLEY: Yes, I did. I had a little girl.

NEWT: Where is she?

RIPLEY: She's gone.

NEWT: You mean dead.

It's more statement than question.

RIPLEY: Yea. . .


Ripley unsnaps the Tracer Bracelet, given to her by Hicks, and puts it on Newt's tiny wrist, cinching it down.

RIPLEY: Here, take this...for luck.

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

NEWT: Don't go! Please.

RIPLEY: Newt. I'll be right in the next room. And, see that camera right up there?


Newt looks at the video security camera above the door. Its swivels on its mount as it scans the room.

RIPLEY: I can see you right through that camera, all the time, to see if you're safe. I'm not going to leave you, Newt. I mean it. That's a promise.

NEWT: You promise?

RIPLEY: I cross my heart.

NEWT: And hope to die?

Ripley flinches slightly at the innocently grim expression.

RIPLEY: And hope to die.

Newt grabs her in a desperate hug and Ripley returns it slowly, a bit overwhelmed at first, then with fierce emotion. The child's need is so vast, Ripley prays she has made a promise she can keep. With a kiss on the cheek, Newt let's go and lays back down.

RIPLEY: Now go to sleep...and don't dream.

Newt points at Ripley's shirt. Ripley looks down and Newt playfully flicks Ripley's nose. She laughs.

RIPLEY: Sneak.

Ripley EXITS and Newt turns on her side, gazing at the bracelet in the orange glow of the heater.


INT. MED-LAB: Ripley stands over Lieutenant Gorman, lying motionless on a gurney, his head bandaged. Bishop is behind her. Hudson and Vasquez are nearby, their weapons cradled.

BISHOP: The molecular acid oxidizes after the creature stops, completely neutralizing it.

RIPLEY: Bishop...you know that's very interesting. But, that doesn't really get us anywhere, does it? We're trying to figure out what we're dealing with here. Let's go through it again. They grabbed the colonists, they move them over there, and immobilized them to be hosts for more of these...


Ripley looks at the stasis cylinders containing the facehugger specimens.

RIPLEY: Which would mean there would have to be a lot of these parasites, right? One for each colonist...that's over a hundred at least.

BISHOP: Yes. That follows.

RIPLEY: Each one of these things comes from an egg, right? So, who's laying these eggs?

BISHOP: I'm not sure. It must be something we haven't seen yet.


HUDSON: Hey, maybe it's like an ant hive.

VASQUEZ: Bees, man. Bees have hives.

HUDSON: You know what I mean. There's like...one female that runs the whole show.

BISHOP: Yes, the Queen.

HUDSON: Yeah, the momma. She's badass, man. I mean, big!

VASQUEZ: These things ain't ants, pendajo.

HUDSON: I know that.


RIPLEY: Bishop, I want these specimens destroyed as soon as you're finished with them. Is that clear?

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

BISHOP: Mr. Burke gave instructions that they were to be kept alive in stasis for return to the company labs. He was very specific about it.


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: Look, those two specimens are worth millions to the bio-weapons division, right? Now, if you're smart...we can both come out of this heroes and we will be set up for life.

RIPLEY: Your crazy, Burke, do you know that? Do you really think you can get a dangerous organism like that past ICC quarantine?

BURKE: How can they impound it if they don't know about it.

RIPLEY: But they will know about it, Burke. From me. Just like they'll know that you were responsible for the deaths of one hundred and fifty-seven colonists here...

BURKE: Wait a second...

RIPLEY: You sent them to that ship.

BURKE: You're wrong.

RIPLEY: I just checked the colony log...directive dated 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. Why didn't you warn them, Burke?


BURKE: Okay, look. What if that ship didn't even exist. Did you ever think about that. I didn't know. So now, if I went and made a major security situation out of it, everybody steps in. Administration steps in and there's no exclusive rights for anybody. Nobody wins. So, I made a decision and it was...wrong. It was a bad call, Ripley. It was a bad call.

RIPLEY: Bad call?!

BURKE: Right.


Ripley snaps. She grabs his collar and slams him against the wall, surprising herself and him.

RIPLEY: These people are dead, Burke! Don't you have any idea what you have done here?! Well, I'm going to make sure that they nail you right to the wall for this! You're not going to sleaze your way out of this one! Right to the wall!

She releases him, and looks at him with utter loathing, as if the depths of human greed are a far more horrific revelation than any alien. She turns away and begins to leave.


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

RIPLEY: I�m happy to disappoint you.

Ripley strides out. Burke stares after her, his mind a whirl of options.


INT. CORRIDOR: A door opens, Ripley walks out and heads toward operations. All of sudden, a strident alarm begins to sound. She breaks into a run.

INT. OPERATIONS - TACTICAL: Ripley double-times it to Hicks' Tactical Console. Hudson and Vasquez come running in as well. Hicks slaps a switch, killing the alarm.

HUDSON: What is it? What's going on?

HICKS: They're coming.

HUDSON: Where?

HICKS: In the tunnel.

In the background, the sound of the sentry guns begin firing. Their loud bursts of fire echoing around the complex.

HICKS: Here we go.


They all gather around the monitors and the sentry units' displays. The echoing crash of the gun fire and alien screams can be heard everywhere. The sound vibrates through the flooring.


HICKS: A and B guns, tracking and firing. Multiple targets.

The RSS guns pound away, echoing through the area. Their separate bursts overlap in an irregular rhythm. A counter on the sentry displays' counts down the number of rounds fired.

INT. SERVICE TUNNEL - TIGHT ON THE RSS GUNS: Blasting stroboscopically in the tunnels. Their barrels smoke as they slowly heat up.

INT. OPERATIONS - TACTICAL

HUDSON: Look at those ammo counters go.

CLOSE-UP ON THE SENTRY DISPLAY: As the rounds left quickly decrease.


They all gather around the monitors and the sentry units' displays. The echoing crash of the gun fire and alien screams can be heard everywhere. The sound vibrates through the flooring.

INT. SERVICE TUNNEL - TIGHT ON THE RSS GUNS: The units keep blasting everything in sight. Not one creature gets by them, until...

INT. OPERATIONS - TACTICAL

HICKS: B-gun's down fifty percent.

HUDSON: Man, it's a shooting gallery down there.

Warning beeps start to emit from the control terminal as the ammo begins to run out.

HICKS: Sixty rounds left on B. Forty...twenty...ten...B-gun's dry. Twenty on A. Ten...five...that's it.

HUDSON: Jesus. They're wall to wall in there.

SILENCE. Then a GONG-LIKE BOOMING echoes eerily up from the sub-level.


RIPLEY: They're at the pressure door.

HUDSON: Man, listen to that.

BISHOP (voice over): Bishop here. I'm afraid I have some bad news.

HUDSON: Well, that's a switch.






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