The Refinery separates from Nostromo.
RIPLEY: Umbilical's clear.
Engines coughing to life. Nostromo begins its descent. Below night's tide rolls across the planet's surface. Dallas working switches and buttons. He watches the refinery moving away on a viewscreen.
DALLAS: The money's safe, let's take her down.
KANE: Row 92 degrees, port yor.
Kane punches buttons of his own.
RIPLEY: Turbulence. . . . . Locked and floating. Drops anytime now, we'll catch it.
DALLAS: Initial dampener going off. Allright people, there's going to be a little bump.
Parker and Brett strapped in their seats. Begin rocking from the sudden, extreme turbulence. The viewscreen shimmers. The crew hear a loud metallic shrill.
PARKER: What the hell was that!
BRETT: Pressure dropping on the second feed, must have lost a shield.
DALLAS: Let's go with it.
ASH: Dropping off now. . . . Still dropping. . . . . There we are, I've got it.
DALLAS: Take her down. . . . . Navigation lights on.
Tug-module hydroplaning downward. A set of brilliant lights switch on. Cut through the thick atmosphere. The turbulence continues unabated. Lambert's eyes follow cross-plot gauges. A loud electrical hum. Storm blowing across the night-shrouded surface. The Nostromo hovers on glowing beams of light. An enormous vibration.
INTERCOM: 10 . . . 9 . . . 8 . . . 7 . . . 6 . . . 5 . . . 4 . . . 3 . . . 2 . . .
Landing struts unfold like insect legs. The ship slams down. Rocks heavily on massive shock absorbers.
The panels in the room flash simultaneously. Another huge vibration. An electrical fire breaks out along three control panels. Huge flash fire whips along corridor. Parker and Brett see the pandemonium. Brett hits the secondary generator switch. A pressure valve blows. Another conduit breaks loose. All lights go out. They grab hand lights from wall. The engines fall silent.
DALLAS: What the hell happen! . . . Somebody give me a straight answer!
KANE: It's a hull breach.
RIPLEY: I don't see anything. We've still got pressure.
Parker on the communicator to the bridge.
PARKER (voice over): The secondary load sharing unit is out, at least four cells are gone.
INT. BRIDGE: Still in darkness. Kane grabs emergency headlamp from facia. Ripley hits the voice-amp.
Ripley listening to Parker. No images on any screens.
RIPLEY: Is that it?
PARKER (voice over): No, hold on, we can't fix it out here anyway and we need to reroute a couple of these ducts, wouldn't you say, Brett?
KANE: Dry dock then.
BRETT: Dry dock. Tell her dry dock.
PARKER: Look, we couldn't fix it out here anyway. We got to reroute all these ducts and in order to do that we got to dry dock.
DALLAS: What else?
PARKER (voice over): Some fragments caked up and we got to clean it all out, and re-pressurize.
RIPLEY (voice over): How long before we are functional?
PARKER: What the. . . what?
BRETT: 17 hours, tell her.
PARKER: At least 25 hours.
RIPLEY: I'll be right down.
She shuts off her voice communicator.
PARKER: What the hell is she coming down here for?
BRETT: She better stay the fuck out of my way.
PARKER: I'd like to see what she's going to do when she gets here.
The wind sounds. Storm continues to blow around the craft. A few glittering lights distinguish the Nostromo from absolute darkness. Bridge lights come to life. Illuminate nothing but a patch of featureless ground. The wind and storm now at a higher pitch. Dallas, Kane, Lambert, and Ash. Slouched around the bridge. Drinking coffee. Occasionally staring at the opaque screens.
DALLAS: Any response yet.
ASH: Nope, absolutely nothing. Except the same transmission every 12 seconds. All the other channels are dead.
DALLAS: Kick on the floods.
EXT. SHIP: A ring of floodlights comes to life. Dimly illuminating the rocky landscape. The wind and dust now at a higher pitch.