Post by Dachan-da (shiznit) on Sept 26, 2009 6:54:03 GMT -6
Taken from IMDB
ALIENS
Vs.
PREDATOR
Screenplay by Peter Briggs
EXT. DEEP SPACE
We OPEN on TOTAL BLACKNESS, a sea of stars spread across the infinite
depths of space. As the TITLES ROLL, we notice that three of these
specks seem to be moving; one of them picking up acceleration and
racing toward us. Our perspective changes, and we catch a quick
glimpse as it HURTLES past, and into the gravitational pull of a large
brownish planet. Kicking up SPARKS of FRICTION as it hits atmosphere.
It seems to be manmade. Or at least artificial.
EXT. PLANET SURFACE - DAY
The planet is dead, barren. Death Valley on a grand scale. We watch
the object plummet through the wispy cloud-cover, emitting a few last
burning embers before falling to ground way-off in the distance. A
BOOMING ECHO resonates across the dusty plains, before settling back
into an eerie silence.
EXT. FISSURE CANYON - DAY
We're looking into a deep gorge, dark and sinister. A howling wind
whips dust into a sandstorm, reducing visibility to almost zero. About
seventy feet down there's a hole in the rock-face that just might be a
cave entrance, and near is a peculiar SHIMMERING in the air. We hear a
mechanical BEEPING and the SHIMMERING disappears, replaced by FIVE
humanoid SHAPES clinging to the sheer rock - each well over seven feet
tall. They are PREDATORS, a race of intergalactic big-game hunters on
permanent safari; their clothing and weaponry a bizarre mix of
aborigine and ultra-hi-tech. In their hands are circular metal discs;
'smart weapons' which cut into the stone and give them purchase.
PREDATOR-VISION.
From their P.O.V., we see the fissure reduced to THERMAL HEAT SOURCES.
The entrance registers as a black gaping void.
INT. FISSURE NEST TUNNEL
The five hunters climb inside the rim of the tunnel, out of the wind's
banshee wailing. The lead PREDATOR reaches up to his headgear, pulling
at the coupling pipes connecting it to a hidden breathing-apparatus.
He removes the helmet, clips it to his rear utility pack, and takes a
deep breath of the air. A curious speckled pattern runs across his
wide forehead, marking him
different to the others; in addition, one of the fangs of his mandibles
has been sheared away. We'll call him BROKEN TUSK, he's the leader of
the hunting party. He reaches out a hand to caress the wall of the
tunnel.
Several feet in from the rim, it changes from rock to a textured
biomechanical surface; a swirling mass of disturbing shapes. He
hurries forward in response to the GURGLING-HISS of one of his team who
has found something.
The other PREDATOR holds a telescopic spear up for scrutiny. Skewered
on the end is a shriveled FORM with eight spindly legs and a segmented
tail; it's a FACEHUGGER, the first stage of the deadly ALIEN lifeform.
BROKEN TUSK HISSES a caution to his party; they respond by pulling
spears and elaborately-shaped swords. Several shoulder-mounted plasma
cannons slide up to firing position, tracking with their owners'
helmets. Thus armed, they move cautiously ahead...taking no chances.
One helmeted PREDATOR pauses, scanning the area.
PREDATOR-VISION.
He switches through a variety of different views; infra-red, ultra-
violet, enhanced motion-tracking. Nothing.
He's so pre-occupied with this task, he totally fails to notice the
skeletal ALIEN loom up behind him, emerging from the biomechanical
growth on the floor. A barbed tail skewers the PREDATOR straight
through the neck, splashing luminous blood across his chestplate. A
gargled DEATH-RATTLE issues from his throat, the band of PREDATORS
spinning around in time to see him being dragged below the ground. The
band of extraterrestrial hunters have no time to come to his aid; they
themselves are set upon by a half-dozen ALIEN WARRIORS. The carnage is
swift and terrifying, a blur of motion.
Steel blades and serrated biomechanical limbs scythe the air, alive
with the CRIES and HISSES of both adversaries. One PREDATOR is pinned
against the tunnel wall, his spear out of range. The ALIEN claws away
his face mask, and he finds himself dodging the ALIEN's toothed tongue,
extended toward him with pile-driver speed. He reaches down, grasping
the 'smart-weapon' hanging from his belt and brings it up in an arc
that terminates at the ALIEN's grinning face. Big mistake. The two
are in such close proximity that the ALIEN's acidic blood sprays across
the PREDATOR's head. While their technology seems to be resistant to
it, their bodies aren't: the viscous yellow liquid begins burning into
the PREDATOR's skin. He kicks the skeletal corpse away with a HIDEOUS
PIERCING SCREAM, clawing at his seared face.
It all seems to be over as quickly as it began; there can be no
question as to who were the victors. The PREDATORS stand amidst a sea
of biomechanical limbs strewn around like a charnel house. As his
companions begin to carefully decapitate the ALIEN skulls, BROKEN TUSK
steps over the corpses to examine his fallen comrades. The first
PREDATOR to be attacked was killed instantly; he crosses to the other.
What he finds causes him to react with
pity and disgust. His fallen comrade is only just alive; mandibles
clicking frailly, half his head burnt away. BROKEN TUSK watches the
ailing PREDATOR slide a steel blade from it's sheath and offer it to
him. He takes it, knowing what has to be done. Rolling the knife
quickly over the back of his hand - the sort of elaborate trick
seasoned Green Berets perform - he plunges it downward into the fallen
hunter. This unpleasant task accomplished,
BROKEN TUSK straightens up and activates his wrist-computer. A dark
shape blots out the light coming from the entrance; a small PREDATOR
shuttlecraft, sleek and elegant. It hovers in the air with little more
than a loud HUM, and extends a ramp. The surviving PREDATORS leap
aboard, carrying their trophies with the reserved silence of men
returning from combat.
One more thing need to be done. BROKEN TUSK bends down and flips a
sequence of keys on the dead PREDATOR's wrist. A countdown is
displayed in some unknown character-set, accompanied by a HIGH PITCHED
BEEPING. He then turns and swiftly boards the craft which takes
smoothly to the air, it's undergear retracting.
EXT. PLANET SURFACE - DAY
A white-hot fireball erupts out of the fissure, the result of the
PREDATOR's suicide-destruct mechanism. The shuttlecraft pulls quickly
away, disappearing into the clouds.
EXT. SPACE
A large spacecraft is suspended in orbit around the planet; the
PREDATOR Mothership. The shuttle heads swiftly towards it.
INT. PREDATOR MOTHERSHIP - DOCKING BAY
An airlock RUMBLES open and the PREDATORS file NOISILY into the
Mothership's docking bay. An OLD PREDATOR crouched against a strut
takes time out from carving something into a block of wood to briefly
look up at them. Like the PREDATORS themselves, the ship is a curious
mixture of old and new. An elaborate frieze written in alien script
runs around the wall, with racks of sophisticated equipment recessed
into it. Hatches lead off to various parts of the ship; we see BROKEN
TUSK carry his ALIEN head off down one of them.
INT. PREDATOR MOTHERSHIP - VIEWING GALLERY
The gallery seems to be more mechanical than the rest of the ship.
BROKEN TUSK enters, pausing next to a kind of readout device: a
cylindrical tube containing a substance similar to mercury which
constantly changes it's mass into shapes and alien text. He peers over
the protective railing.
WHAT HE SEES is magnificent: a captive QUEEN ALIEN, the nucleus of the
ALIEN society, fed by giant intravenous pipes. Each of it's limbs is
tethered by straining clamps preventing any movement. To the rear,
it's giant egg-sac glows and throbs, suspended by a jury-rigged sling.
A SCANNING MECHANISM hangs above the EGGS the QUEEN lays, seemingly
defying gravity. As each EGG is scanned by a blue triangular beam -
similar to a PREDATOR gun-sight - it becomes translucent, giving us a
view of the pulsing FACEHUGGER inside. This done, a manipulator are
carefully loads several eggs onto a pallet, which then sinks into a
hatchway in the floor. It's an assembly-line of almost frightening
mechanical efficiency.
EXT. SPACE
We see a pod ejected from the Mothership, rocketing away from the
planet into deep space. The inference is obvious; the PREDATORS are
seeding worlds with ALIENS to hunt.
INT. PREDATOR MOTHERSHIP - VIEWING GALLERY
The blue beam slides across one of the eggs, and suddenly changes to
red, BEEPING rapidly. BROKEN TUSK sees the flowing display-tank alter
from a rotating simulation of an ALIEN WARRIOR skull to a
representation of a QUEEN's head. The manipulator arm swiftly grasps
the EGG in question and moves it over to a protrusion on the floor.
The causes the QUEEN to go
berserk, straining at her bonds and SHRIEKING ferociously. She's
obviously been through this before and knows what's about to happen.
The protrusionsplits open, spilling out an intense white light: an
energy-filled blast furnace. The manipulator claw opens, the EGG drops
in, and is no more.
INT. PREDATOR MOTHERSHIP - LIVING QUARTERS
An orange light plays across a wall of skulls, casting dark shadows
into long-empty orbs. BROKEN TUSK sprawls lizard-like across a flat
slab of rock in the center of the room, inspecting his formidable
arsenal of weaponry. Satisfied, he reaches out to run a finger across
the jaw of his ALIEN trophy in an almost-erotic gesture. He regards it
for a long moment as if coming to a decision of some kind, before
finally getting to his feet.
INT. PREDATOR MOTHERSHIP - VIEWING GALLERY
The lights in the gallery are dimmer when BROKEN TUSK enters. He
watches the cherry-red beam of the gliding SCANNING MECHANISM lock onto
one of the EGGS, then runs his hand in sequence over the control board.
The manipulator arm swings over, seizing the egg and loading it onto a
waiting pallet.
BROKEN TUSK points his finger at the QUEEN and makes a guttural
CLICKING SOUND from deep in his throat. The effect is not unlike that
of a child firing an imaginary gun. As if reading BROKEN TOOTH's
thoughts, the QUEEN lifts her crested head upwards and emits a venomous
HISS of contempt.
EXT. SPACE
In CENTER FRAME, the planet sits still and green, awash with nebulous
clouds. A hulking METAL FORM ROLLS RIGHT-TO-LEFT across our view,
sunlight glinting from it's surface. It's a rectangular satellite-
construction comprised of hundreds of communication dishes in a
latticework of steel tubing. We hear FILTERED HUMAN VOICES O.S.
Subspace chatter.
EXT. RYUSHI STATION - MIDDAY
Imagine a world where every square mile is covered by a canopy of
treetop foliage, and you've just drawn yourself a picture of the planet
Ryushi.
Nestled amongst this lush rainforest is the Yutani-Templin
Communications Relay Station. Several inverted-'U'-shaped suspension
cranes painted bright yellow look down over a collection of
preassembled buildings and roadways raised above the swamp on
platforms, much like a truncated oil-rig. A navigation beacon flashes
intermittently from a tall gantry tower above, while dominating the
view is the sloping face of a communications array several storeyes
high. Off to one side of the platform is a gigantic many-wheeled
haulage vehicle. A flock of bird-like creatures fly past.
INT. RYUSHI STATION - COMMAND CENTER
We're in the dark womb of a split-level command center alive with
clusters of video readouts, somewhat reminiscent of a futuristic air-
traffic control tower. On the upper tier, a large circular holo-
display currently projects an image of the satellite we just saw. Thin
trailers of paper flutter gently in the current coming from the air
conditioning ducks, though beads of sweat still dot the foreheads of
the people manning the consoled here. We move in on CASSIE DOLLANDER
and ROB PARSONS, two monitoring technicians occupying a control bank.
CASSIE listens carefully to something on her headset.
CASSIE
Ah, negative on that request commercial freighter 'Nan-Shan'. I've
already got an inbound on that approach pending a beacon-fix. Hold on
my mark until I get back with some confirmation. Rimward Traffic
Control out.
She thumbs a button and leans over to PARSONS.
CASSIE (CONT'D)
How's it looking?
PARSONS worriedly shakes his head.
PARSONS
That's the second time I ran it, and it still reads the same.
CASSIE
Better tell the boss.
PARSONS pulls out a coin.
PARSONS
Toss you for it.
INT. RYUSHI STATION - EXECUTIVE OFFICE
HIROKO NOGUCHI is sweating heavily, a black forelock of hair falling
across her Oriental features. Her eyes flicker warily from side-to-
side as she holds the smooth length of the sword before her, trying to
assess from where the next attack will come. She doesn't have to wait
long; two NINJA SWORDSMEN drop to the floor in front of her, striking
without hesitation.
She expertly avoid the blows, parrying relentlessly. A persistent TONE
begins to intrude O.S., like a telephone RINGING. She tries to ignore
it, but her concentration is clearly broken. A THIRD SWORDSMAN appears
from out of nowhere, his sword SWISHING towards her chest. The blade
plunges deep into her stomach, emerging from her back. She glances
down in annoyed disbelief.
HIROKO
Fuck! Holo off.
The SWORDSMEN immediately flicker and disappear. She sheathes the
sword with one precise movement and crosses the wooden paneled floor to
her desk. Mopping her face with a towel, she thumbs a stud. The
RINGING TONE stops, the corporate logo on her flat-screen desk panel
replaced with a black girl's face.
HIROKO (CONT'D)
Noguchi.
CASSIE (O.S., onscreen)
Something just came up on Deep Space Tracking.
HIROKO
What kind of 'something'?
CASSIE (O.S., onscreen)
Easier if you come down and look.
HIROKO
I'm on my way.
EXT. RYUSHI STATION - MIDDAY
An eight-wheeled articulated crawler rolls noisily through the rain,
climbing an access ramp leading from the swamp to the outpost's empty
main-street. A group of rhinos - brown two-horned quadrupeds
indigenous to Ryushi - restlessly stir in their corral at it's
approach. The crawler's pneumatics HISS gently as it comes to a halt,
while somewhere off in the distance a dog BARKS.
DON KAMEN, a lean man in his forties. climbs down from the cab mounted
five feet above the ground and squints up at the main relay antenna. He
adjusts the cowboy hat on his head against the drizzle and crosses the
street towards one of the buildings, ignoring a Pepsi sign CREAKING in
the gentle breeze. A glass-paneled door SWISHES automatically open
before him.
INT. RYUSHI STATION - COMMAND CENTER
KAMEN steps into the command center, nodding familiarly to the DUTY
PERSONNEL. A long-haired labrador rushes up to KAMEN, wagging it's
tail. Her name is BREWSTER. She's the base mascot. KAMEN reaches down
and ruffles it's fur. He climbs the few stairs to the monitoring tier,
pulling the French-plaited hair of ANNIE URIOSTE, an Italian systems-
mechanic with her hands buried in a disassembled console.
URIOSTE
You didn't wipe your feet coming in.
KAMEN
Well, it's okay. You didn't tell me it was monsoon season going out.
PARSONS looks up at KAMEN and grins.
PARSONS
Hey, buenos dias, cowboy. When d'you blow in?
KAMEN places his hat on PARSONS' head and THUMPS it down.
KAMEN
Just got back. Missed anything?
URIOSTE (snorts)
Yeah. We're almost out of beer.
PARSONS
Ahh, don't pay any attention to Urioste. She's still pissed that
Noguchi wouldn't let her go off on your hunting trip.
KAMEN pours himself a cup of coffee from a BUBBLING percolator.
KAMEN
Wasn't my trip, I just did the driving. 'Sides, freezing my butt off
out in the wet taking pot-shots at the local wildlife isn't my idea of
a good time, either.
He sips gingerly from the cup of scalding liquid.
PARSONS
Where'd you leave them?
KAMEN
Camped out by the navi-beacon out on Linson's Range. They're making
their own way back tomorrow.
CASSIE
MarsCo went belly-up on the Dow Jones.
KAMEN
Shit. When?
CASSIE
Yesterday. We got the Network feed from Gateway; it was the top story
on 'Sixty Seconds'. Biggest market crash since twenty-four.
KAMEN looks ill.
KAMEN
Fucking great. I invested some money in them.
CASSIE
You win some, you loose some.
KAMEN
I lose 'em all, that's why I'm still out here on this rock. Anything
else you wanna ruin my day with?
CASSIE
No, but I got something that might interest you.
HIROKO enters, pulling on a leather jacket.
HIROKO
What've you got?
KAMEN nods to her and receives a quick smile for his trouble. They
turn to watch the display clear, replaced with a computer simulation of
the neighboring solar system.
CASSIE
A pair of incomings. They popped-up on the medium-range about thirteen
twenty-four local time.
PARSONS
We figured on it being a magnetic anomaly, but we ran a back-trace just
to make sure.
CASSIE
Yeah. Turns out they dropped straight out of hyperspace.
The simulation ZOOMS IN, revealing two unidentified objects heading
towards the planet in the center of the display. Computer notations
accompany them.
CASSIE (CONT'D)
Curious thing is, the mass detector says they're too small to carry a
deep-space drive.
HIROKO
Sounds like a couple of escape shuttles.
PARSONS
That's what we thought.
HIROKO
Have you got an updated Lloyds' Almanac to cross-reff them through?
PARSONS
Done it already. Nothing matches.
CASSIE
And if you thought that was interesting, watch this...
HIROKO watches the course of the two objects simultaneously change.
KAMEN
Jesus.
PARSONS
Yeah, exactly. Those're pre-programmed course adjustments you're
looking at.
KAMEN
Tactical nukes, maybe?
Everybody gives him a quick look, but nobody says anything. It's
obviously not an appealing thought.
HIROKO
Where're they headed?
CASSIE
We ran a trajectory simulation. If they carry on along that path, it's
possible they'll make intra-orbital insertion.
There's a great exhalation of breath, and everyone swaps significant
glances. HIROKO seems worried. She scratches her forehead.
HIROKO
I don't know what to make of this. Get a copy of the telemetry relayed
back to Antarctica Traffic Control. Better alert the nearest RimCorp
Base, too.
PARSONS nods, suddenly serious.
PARSONS
Fort Powell. What do we tell 'em?
HIROKO
Just give them the facts. They can leap to their own conclusions.
EXT. LINSON'S RANGE - SWAMP - AFTERNOON
Down here in the swamp, the trunks of magnificent trees terminate in
gnarled roots and disappear into watery murk, much like a Louisiana
bayou. A group of attentive LEMUR-TYPE CREATURES suddenly bound for
cover as a line of bullets THUDS into the wood nearby. Seconds later,
a loud HUMMING NOISE intrudes O.S. and a pair of manta-ray-shaped
hover-bikes with sleek lines and garnish decals SLAMS into FRAME
suspended two feet above the mire, their powerful turbines kicking-up a
swirl of spray. The two BIKERS skid to a halt and watch the CREATURES
scatter. ACKLAND and YORK - men who on Earth might be called "good 'ol
boys" - are both riding one-handed; powerful hi-tech rifles gripped in
the other.
YORK (yelling)
You missed 'em, Ackland!
ACKLAND
Little fuckers move too fast. Let's do a sweep and catch 'em on the
other side.
YORK nods his head, pulling his goggles down over his eyes. The two
bikes ROAR off in pursuit.
EXT. LINSON'S RANGE - ENCAMPMENT - AFTERNOON
Up on a mud-bank, at the base of a sturdy gantry tower with two
blinking blue lights atop it, stands the camp. It looks a little like
a Bedouin bivouac, but up-close we can see the techno-fitted details.
A hard-featured woman seated next to a solid-fuel burner sips from a
mug, while her Vietnamese counterpart is manually loading large-caliber
bullets into a belt-feed. They
watch as ACKLAND and YORK roar past WHOOPING. MINH scrambles out of
the way as a beer can lobbed by YORK CLATTERS to the ground near him.
MINH
Crazy idiots.
BEAUVAIS cups her drink with both hands, assessing him.
BEAUVAIS
Ahhh, they're just letting off some steam; don't let 'em get to you.
Ackland and York aren't such bad guys when you get to know 'em. Just a
couple of weekend warriors...
She peers curiously at the clunky cartridges MINH's thumbing into the
belt feed. On the ground next to him is a widebore weapon on an over-
the-shoulder guidance mechanism.
BEAUVAIS (CONT'D)
Nice howitzer you've got there.
MINH
Thanks.
BEAUVAIS
Good argument for gun-control. What are you going after, rhino?
MINH
Nah. I just wanna squeeze off a few rounds. 'Sides, they tagged the
rhinos for the migration project, so they're protected. They'll dock
you a month's pay for just mentioning it.
He peers into the belt and blows out some dirt.
MINH (CONT'D)
Sure wish there was something on this planet with a bit of fight in it,
though.
EXT. DEEP SPACE
Against a sea of stars, a small metal shape HURTLES towards us,
followed moments later by it's identical twin.
EXT. RYUSHI STATION - BIG BERTHA - AFTERNOON
A strand of HIROKO's hair falls forward into her face, slick with rain.
She brushes up at the miserable weather. She and KAMEN are standing on
one of the twelve-feet-in-diameter wheels of the gargantuan haulage
vehicle we saw outside the base earlier. Up on the side of the cab is
painted a Nordic Valkyrie with an impressive bustline, next to which is
the legend 'BIG BERTHA'. Two mechanics, JAN GUTTIEREZ and KEVIN
DILLER, watch KAMEN point something out to HIROKO from the vantage
point of KAMEN's crawler parked in the swamp nearby.
KAMEN
See that sheathing on the suspension? Eaten away. Same thing with the
pumps on the base air purifiers. The algae out here just isn't good on
these new plastics.
HIROKO
We haven't used Big Bertha since we relocated the generator module.
That was four months ago. I can't ask for them to keep bringing spares
in on the shuttle, it's already costing too much as it is.
KAMEN shrugs.
KAMEN
If you want these things kept in working condition, that's the only
choice you've got.
DILLER leans in to murmur quietly to GUTTIEREZ.
DILLER
Maybe she wouldn't be so tetchy if she got laid every once-in-a-while.
GUTTIEREZ
You offering?
A buzzer inside the crawler goes OFF. DILLER gets up to answer.
DILLER
Nah. Freeze my dick off.
HIROKO shakes her head dubiously at KAMEN's comment.
HIROKO
I don't know. I think we'll have to run it on a rota; one month down,
one month operational.
DILLER leans out of the crawler's cab and calls across.
DILLER
Miss Noguchi! You're wanted in admin.
HIROKO
Thanks.
She turns back to KAMEN.
HIROKO (CONT'D)
Let me sort this out and we'll go over the logistics in my office.
INT. RYUSHI STATION - COMMAND CENTER
HIROKO peers at the display with undisguised concern. A sense of
urgency buzzes around the room.
HIROKO (CONT'D)
When?
CASSIE
Seven minutes ago, the third course change in an hour. Those incomings
are going to skim past the communications platform just a little too
close for comfort.
HIROKO
Can we move it to a different orbit in time?
PARSONS looks up from his board in harassment.
PARSONS
Already working on it.
HIROKO
Get off an all-bands emergency distress, and put it on a repeater.
She meets KAMEN's eyes.
HIROKO (CONT'D)
Looks like you were right. Someone's lobbed a pair of smart-missiles
at us.
KAMEN shakes his head.
KAMEN
Relay station like us out in the middle of the boonies; why bother?
All you're gonna do is punch a temporary hole in the traffic control
net. That'd be small potatoes even for terrorists.
PARSONS and CASSIE are all-business at the control board.
PARSONS
Can you patch me a temporary loop on DCMGS?
CASSIE
Okay, give me the numbers.
She flips a switch. A nearby screen changes to display an orbital path
sketched out in rectangular neon blocks.
EXT. SPACE
A cluster of thruster rockets on one corner of the relay frame ignites,
and the darkened bulk of the satellite begins to move.
EXT. DEEP SPACE
The two pods ROAR towards us at immense speed.
INT. RYUSHI STATION - COMMAND CENTER
The two blips on the holo-board representing the pods make a marked
alteration in their course.
PARSONS
They've changed their heading again.
HIROKO
Compensate!
PARSONS
Punch me in a solution for their delta-vee.
CASSIE
What do you need?
PARSONS
A three-second burn to port, on my mark.
CASSIE
It's on the board.
EXT. SPACE
Framed against the green backdrop of Ryushi, the PREDATOR pods rocket
towards the communications platform.
CASSIE
Picking up velocity.
HIROKO
Match it!
A bead of sweat trickles down PARSONS' temple.
PARSONS
Not gonna make it...
EXT. DEEP SPACE
The pod speeds THUNDEROUSLY into CAMERA, blotting out our view.
INT. RYUSHI STATION - COMMAND CENTER
One of the two blips on the holo-display vanishes, and three-quarters
of the monitors abruptly turn to static. PARSONS curses.
PARSONS
Goddammit!
He pulls off his headset with weary resignation.
PARSONS (CONT'D)
We've lost the downlink. It's gone.
EXT. SPACE
The mass of the satellite tumbles end-over-end. A gaping rent is torn
through it; something sparks and flashes within. The second pod
accelerates off curving into the atmosphere.
EXT. LINSON'S RANGE - RIVERBANK - DUSK
A SONIC THUNDERCRACK BOOMS overhead; YORK looks up in time to see an
object sear across the dusk sky. He pulls his bike to a stationary
hover.
YORK
Shit! What's that?
ACKLAND has already dismounted as he watches the fireball hurtle to the
ground. A BOOMING ECHO resonates across the forest, followed by a few
plaintive SCREECHES from the planet's indigenous lifeforms, before
settling back into an eerie silence.
ACKLAND
Meteor, I guess.
He raises a set of compact field binoculars to his face. THROUGH THEM
he sees a thin haze of smoke rising from the treetops.
ACKLAND
D'you feel any impact shock?
YORK (uncertain)
Not really.
He lowers the binoculars and frowns.
ACKLAND
Me either. I tell you, I used to be with a mining outfit on Callisto,
and when something like that hits... believe me, you know about it.
YORK
Do you wanna head back and call it in?
ACKLAND (hesitant)
I dunno... I dunno. Something about this feels funny.
He looks across at the plume of smoke snaking off into the sky.
ACKLAND (CONT'D)
That is the damndest impact I've ever saw...
EXT. LINSON'S RANGE - IMPACT SIGHT - DUSK
The earth around the crater-rim is charred and cracked; some of the
surrounding brush still aflame. A SCORPION scuttles inquisitively to
the edge of the pit and stops, it's stinger twitching hesitantly. We
HEAR a LOW HUM, and the SOUND of METAL-ON-METAL. Before the SCORPION
can decide what to do, it's fate is sealed. A large METAL CLAW comes
down, crushing it in an instant. A SECOND CLAW emerges, and a MACHINE
heaves itself out of the hole, it's surface smoking with heat. It
pauses for a BEAT like some giant tarantula seeking prey, them moves
purposely outwards about twenty yards before halting. A hatch on the
underside opens, and a complex delivery mechanism extends. After a
moment there's a LOW CLUNK, and the mechanism retracts. In it's place
is an ALIEN EGG. The MACHINE crawls off, vanishing into the long
reeds.
EXT. RYUSHI STATION - NIGHT
HIROKO sits on the front wheel of KAMEN's crawler, her knees pulled up
to her chin, staring off into a thin mist that makes the night
impenetrable. Behind and above, the lights of the cranes and the
communications array strobe on-and-off. Above the bar on the main
street is a flicking neon sign erected after-the-fact, emblazoned with
the words "TORCHY'S". The MUFFLED SOUNDS of MERRY-MAKING from within
become momentarily louder, and HIROKO glances over to see it's
pressure-door CRASH back, disgorging several drunken people. KAMEN
follows them through. He spots HIROKO and heads over.
KAMEN
Hey, boss. Wondered where you'd gotten to.
HIROKO
I just... wanted to be put on my own for a while. Clear my head.
KAMEN
Didn't feel like whoopin' it up with the rest of us blue collars, huh?
She shakes her head, and manages a smile.
HIROKO
I've got a lot of thinking to do. 'Sides, the room was getting too
crowded for me.
KAMEN
Not too much of the socializing type, then?
HIROKO
No, not really. More sort of the 'claustrophobic' type.
KAMEN LAUGHS. HIROKO is straight-faced.
HIROKO (CONT'D)
I'm serious. That's why I switched from orbiting to planetary
installations.
KAMEN
Is that a fact.
HIROKO
Uh-huh. Used to get it pretty bad. I'd wake up in a cold sweat and
want to claw open a vacuum hatch.
KAMEN
How long you been out here for now, anyway? Three months?
HIROKO
Four.
KAMEN
And before that?
HIROKO
Six month stint on Datus.
KAMEN
Only six?
HIROKO
What is this? 'Twenty Questions'?
KAMEN
Just curious. There's a lot of talk goes around.
HIROKO shrugs. Thinks about it.
HIROKO
I don't know. I guess I've just never found anywhere I really felt at
home.
She hugs her knees again, and suddenly looks a whole lot more at ease.
KAMEN spots a square glass balanced on one of the tire's wide treads.
KAMEN
What is that?
HIROKO
Real man' drink.
She offers the glass to him. He takes it and sniff cautiously.
KAMEN
Seltzer?
HIROKO
Want some?
KAMEN hands the glass back and raises his own bottle.
KAMEN
I'll stick with my own.
He sits with her and stares into the darkness.
HIROKO
Any luck raising Ackland's party?
KAMEN
Nothing. With the satellite down, we can't transmit over the mountain
range. He's most likely sitting there wondering why he can't raise us.
HIROKO
First light, we'll take a chopper out there and tell them to head back.
KAMEN
'We'? You wanna fly out there with me?
HIROKO
Sure. Do me good to stretch my legs.
HIROKO takes a sip of her drink, her brow furrowing.
HIROKO (CONT'D)
This whole thing's got me spooked.
KAMEN hops off the wheel.
KAMEN
Don't worry about it. If the Network goes by the book, like everyone
figures they will, a Marine gunboat from Powell'll drop-by for a look-
see in four-or-five days. They can go poke around out there and find
whatever it was hit us. All we've gotta do is sit tight.
HIROKO
Do you think Ackland'll sit tight?
KAMEN
There'd have to be a helluva good reason for him not to.
EXT. SPACE
A peculiar blue scanning beam plays over the rotating mass of the
incapacitated satellite, examining every section. it comes to the rent
torn through it, and pauses.
FROM THE SCANNER'S P.O.V., we see the structure of the satellite made
up from a series of blue geodesic shapes. The damage registers as a
cold, black mass.
The beam switches off and the hovering PREDATOR shuttle turns smoothly
on it's axis, thrusting towards the planet.
EXT. LINSON'S RANGE - IMPACT SITE - NIGHT
Shafts of torch-light fan out above the thick foliage in the darkness.
YORK and ACKLAND wade through the chin-high reeds, cursing.
ACKLAND
Found anything?
YORK looks down at his data-stick, a handheld torch with a multi-
purpose readout screen.
YORK
Nada. No radiation... no movement... nothing.
ACKLAND
Well, just keep looking. It's gotta be... whoa, Jesus!
ACKLAND falls toward onto something, and YORK comes running.
YORK
What is it?
ACKLAND steadies himself, and the two men shine their torches at the
rhythmically-breathing SHAPE on the ground.
ACKLAND
It's a rhino.
YORK
Is it dead?
ACKLAND
No, it's still breathing. Kinda clammy though. Are you sure your
stick's not broken.
YORK looks at the data-stick again.
YORK
Yeah, it's fine.
ACKLAND
God, I hope that thing didn't bring down a virus.
YORK
I told you we... what's that?
Their torch beams PAN ACROSS a three-foot high ovular shape.
ACKLAND
Looks like a spore. Fungus of some kind, maybe?
YORK
Bloody big if it is. Top's open.
ACKLAND steps cautiously forward to shine his torch inside.
YORK (CONT'D)
Careful...
There's nothing inside. ACKLAND looks disappointed.
ACKLAND
It's hollow. Think our rhino must've ate something that didn't agree
with him.
A heavy gust of air blows unexpectedly across the clearing with a
BANSHEE HOWL, ruffling their hair.
YORK
Let's get back and call this in.
ACKLAND
Wait a minute.
YORK reluctantly follows ACKLAND as he thrashes through the thinn ing
foliage, coming out at the rim of the impact crater. It's beginning to
partially collapse, water seeping in. YORK runs his beam over
something at the bottom of the shallow pit.
YORK
What is that... is that metal fragments?
ACKLAND's maybe getting a little nervous now.
ACKLAND
This is very fucking weird.
He sees the churned earth, and the muddy trail leading off into the
broken foliage.
ACKLAND (CONT'D)
It's like something came out of the crater and went that way...
There's a TINY CLICK, and ACKLAND looks over to see YORK taking the
safety off his rifle. ACKLAND wordlessly unshoulders his too. They
step around the crater and warily follow the ragged path to...
YORK
Another one?
ACKLAND prods this SECOND EGG with his gun.
ACKLAND
Yeah. This's closed.
There's a CRACKLING NOISE, and the top of the EGG peels neatly open in
four sections. The two men jump back in alarm, and YORK LAUGHS
nervously. Something organic is pulsing inside. ACKLAND cranes his
neck forward for a better look...
There's an EXPLOSION of MOVEMENT. A spindly shape with a long
segmented tail launches itself jack-in-a-box-style at ACKLAND. It's a
FACEHUGGER. ACKLAND trips backwards, caught off-balance. His finger
involuntarily squeezes the trigger of his rifle as he falls. A volley
of shots describe and arc and light up the night with a PERCUSSIVE
BOOM, and we...
CUT TO
...A SHORT DISTANCE ACROSS THE CLEARING. SOMETHING is watching them
from the trees; something with a heat-vision P.O.V. A PREDATOR. We
see the flare of ACKLAND's gunshots, then SNAP IN to see the multi-
colored from of his body toppling over, trailing a purplish FACEHUGGER,
before we...
CUT BACK TO
...One of ACKLAND's bullets taking a meaty chunk out of YORK's thigh as
he races forward to help his friend. The HUGGER's tail is already
around ACKLAND's throat, it's fingers scrabbling for purchase. YORK
pulls at one set of digits, and manages to raise them for just an
instant. What we see is horrific; the look of terror on ACKLAND's
face, and the questing tendril on
the HUGGER's underside trying to force it's way between ACKLAND's lips.
In a second, it's all over; the FACEHUGGER struggles free of YORK's
grasp, and clamps itself firmly on ACKLAND's face with a faint SUCKING
SOUND. YORK shivers, then uses his good leg to propel himself a few
feet away. He watches the hapless Teamster go rigid, then stop moving
altogether.
YORK
Oh, God; oh, shit; oh, God.
The FACEHUGGER's tail slithers tighter around ACKLAND's neck; and as
YORK quickly retrieves his rifle, we...
CUT TO
A PREDATOR-VISION SHOT, watching the color-bloom of YORK dragging
ACKLAND's body away from the crater. It CLOSES IN on the FACEHUGGER,
giving us a muted X-ray-type VIEW of circulatory fluid pumping around
the HUGGER and into ACKLAND.
YORK's limping badly, a dark stain blossoming on his baggy fatigue
trousers. ACKLAND's not a small man, and the physical effort of hauling
him through the reeds makes him sweat profusely. There's movement on
the ground, and YORK sees why; one of the LEMURS has fallen victim to
another FACEHUGGER, which dwarfs it's small furry body. The HUGGER's
fingers all ripple simultaneously as it strengthens it's hold; the
movement akin to somebody drumming their
fingers on a table-top.
EXT. LINSON'S RANGE - RIVER BANK - NIGHT
As YORK hauls ACKLAND onto one of the bikes, he hears a TICKING SOUND
from the trees, like an engine cooling on a warm summer's day. YORK
clutches his rifle and stares upward. There seems to be a VAGUE
SHIMMERING FORM in the bough of a tree. Although it might be a trick
of the light, he isn't sticking around to find out. YORK guns the bike
to life and ROARS off above the swamp.
EXT. LINSON'S RANGE - IMPACT SITE - NIGHT
PREDATOR-VISION.
We're looking at the site in colours: the cold blue of empty ALIEN
EGGS, and the warm reds of just-breathing ANIMALS rendered inert the
FACEHUGGER parasites.
A group of PREDATORS appear in three-dimensional solidity, their
camouflage cloaks deactivated. The LEAD PREDATOR SPLASHES across to
the exposed roots of a tree and kneels down to examine an ANIMAL CORPSE
curled up there. Most of it has been madly mutilated by something
erupting from inside it's body. The PREDATOR looks up and scans the
swamp, ignoring the swarm of FLIES buzzing in the air.
PREDATOR-VISION.
This time, an oscillating line appears to the left of our view, and a
band sweeps quickly ACROSS the screen synchronous to us hearing
different levels of SOUND STATIC. This abruptly stops as the
oscillating line begins to moves in peaks and valleys. The PREDATOR is
picking up radio
waves. A HUMAN VOICE; albeit grossly-distorted.
EXT. LINSON'S RANGE - ENCAMPMENT - NIGHT
We hear a RAPID BEEPING; movement-sensors set up on tripods to warn
against intruding animals. The sound brings BEAUVAIS out of her tent,
bleary-eyed and fumbling with her pistol. She's suddenly wide awake
when she sees YORK's hover-bike, lit by the sensors' flashing red
strobe. It skids to a halt against a mud-bank, sending up a spray of
silt. YORK climbs off the bike and stumbles, then starts to unfasten
the straps holding ACKLAND's body.
BEAUVAIS
Jesus Christ! What happened?
YORK
Give me a hand with Ack.
She races over to help YORK ease ACKLAND up.
BEAUVAIS
How bad is... oh my God.
As ACKLAND is turned over, BEAUVIAS gets her first look at a
FACEHUGGER. She shies away, repulsed.
BEAUVAIS
What is that?
YORK
Don't... uuh... don't know. Help me... uuh... help me get him inside.
Shit!
YORK grits his teeth, but the leg injury is too painful. He slumps
slowly to the floor.
BEAUVAIS (yelling)
Minh! Minh, get out here!
INT. TENT - NIGHT
A portable neon light in the tent flickers, casting staccato bluish
light over ACKLAND and the FACEHUGGER. MINH and BEAUVAIS stare at it
in horrified fascination, while YORK pulls a tourniquet around his
thigh. He winces.
BEAUVAIS
Have you tried prising it off?
YORK shakes his head.
YORK
I wanted to get him back here; get him back to base.
MINH
Forget it. We lost the satellite link. It's dead.
There's a long pause while everyone considers the options.
BEAUVAIS
We've got no option. We're gonna have to get it off.
MINH
Oh man...
YORK
Get real, Beauvais! That thing might chew his fucking face off for all
be know!
The motion sensor outside begins BEEPING again. MINH catches BEAUVAIS'
head-jerk.
BEAUVAIS
Minh...
MINH
Yep...
MINH hefts his 'howitzer' and leaves the tent. BEAUVAIS rounds on
YORK, continuing.
BEAUVAIS
How do you know it's not already?
YORK
I don't, but I think we should just wait and let the Doc take a look...
EXT. LINSON'S RANGE - ENCAMPMENT - NIGHT
MINH walks towards a line of flashing red strobes at the perimeter of
the camp, the barrel of his weapon pointing casually forward. He
studies the surrounding darkness. There's nothing out there. He
shakes his head in
disgust.
MINH (muttering)
Take a goddamn wrench to those things...
He thumbs a stud on the top of the 'howitzer'. There's a gentle WHINE,
and the HISS of hydraulic cylinders as the harness mechanism lifts the
weapon up. It darts quickly to-and-fro; a mechanical snake seeking a
target. We see MINH's hand in CLOSE UP. In addition to the firing
trigger, there's also a thumb button. He squeezes it...
The gun swings sharply around in a blinding movement, tracking
something automatically. There's a THUNDEROUS RUMBLE as it fires-off
three shots in rapid succession. Something that was only yards from
MINH APPEARS and is blown backwards to CRASH against a tree bole, a
mass of luminous green liquid and motion.
MINH (CONT'D) (dumbstruck)
God.
MINH watches the helmeted PREDATOR fall face down into the water with a
SPLASH, then lie motionless. YORK and BEAUVAIS are out of the tent in
an instant.
PREDATOR-VISION.
Three humans; in motion and 'hot'. The triangular mechanism of the
PREDATOR's gun locks onto MINH.
A BLAST of plasma-energy rips a gaping hole through MINH's body,
spraying blood across YORK. He topples dead to the ground, a look of
pained surprise on his face. BEAUVAIS is there immediately, racing
across and scrabbling for the 'howitzer'. She doesn't have time to
take the harness off - she just slides her finger through the trigger
guard and starts squeezing off random shots. The air shimmers as an
unseen shape races at her. There's a loud
SWISH of sliding metal, and a telescopic spear appears out of thin air.
It SLAMS through BEAUVAIS' body, lifting her off the ground and
impaling her against a tree.
YORK watches in horror as BEAUVAIS' arms thrash around. A moment later
her struggles cease, and she'd dropped to the floor like a broken
marionette. There's a CRACKLING SOUND, and the hazy air around BEAUVAIS
disappears. In it's place is a PREDATOR, a luminous green patch
trickling from a wound on it's arm. It's head flicks around as it
zeroes-in on YORK, the three red dots of the PREDATOR's cannon
following suit. YORK's quick though, already up and running when the
plasma bolt EXPLODES into the tree despite the pain in his leg.
His options are limited. The hover-bike is nearby. He sprints for
that and his luck holds...the key's still in the ignition. He flips
it. The engine COUGHS and then dies. YORK looks up. The wounded
PREDATOR bounds across the clearing at frightened speed. YORK turns
the key again, but the PREDATOR's almost upon him. The creature WHIPS
an ornately-shaped lance from it's back and thrusts it...JUST AS THE
ENGINE ROARS TO LIFE AND THE HOVER-BIKE RISES FROM THE MUD! The blade
slices into the bike's body and jams there, while one of it's manta-
wings SMACKS into the PREDATOR's jaw, sending it reeling backwards into
the swamp.
YORK swivels the bike on it's axis as another plasma-bolt rips into the
rear, melting away a sizable chunk of the bodywork. He sees a PREDATOR
handing from a tree, and the SHIMMERING of two more PREDATORS in their
camouflage nearby. He's not sticking around to argue though. YORK
jams the throttle hard and the bike shoots off into the bayou as more
cannon-blasts blossom around him.
The group of PREDATORS appear in the camp and cautiously survey the
area. The LEAD PREDATOR - the one with the distinctive armor - crosses
to the tent and opens the entry flap.
INT. TENT - NIGHT
PREDATOR-VISION.
The extraterrestrial hunter scrutinizes the pulsing FACEHUGGER on
ACKLAND for a long moment, but takes no further action.
EXT. LINSON'S RANGE - ENCAMPMENT - NIGHT
We PAN SLOWLY ACROSS the deserted campsite. There isn't a soul there,
human or otherwise. The wind whistles eerily through the tree-boughs.
EXT. RAINFOREST AIRSPACE - DAWN
First light the next day, the sun rising on the horizon. A 'chopper' -
actually a twin-turbine heli-jet - flies in low above the veil of mist
hanging over the treetops.
INT. CHOPPER - DAWN
The cockpit is small, a two-seater with room for cargo in the back.
KAMEN's in the pilot seat, and HIROKO's riding shotgun. The controls
moving by themselves, on autopilot. A REPETITIVE BEEPING causes KAMEN
to look up from his magazine.
KAMEN'S P.O.V.
From out of the window of the 'chopper', we see the twin blue lights of
the navigation beacon blinking on-and-off above the trees.
KAMEN nudges HIROKO awake.
KAMEN
Wake up. We're at the beacon.
He switches the controls over to manual and takes the chopper down.
HIROKO rubs the sleep from her eyes.
EXT. LINSON'S RANGE - ENCAMPMENT - DAWN
Twin searchlights on the underside of the descending chopper sweep
across the clearing. The encampment has been wrecked, much of is
reduced to a twisted tangle of smoking debris. All-terrain gear lowers
from the chopper, as it makes a watery landing in the swamp.
INT. CHOPPER - DAWN
KAMEN and HIROKO stare at the site in disbelief. KAMEN hauls an
automatic pulse-rifle from the rear.
KAMEN
Looks like trouble.
KAMEN reaches under the pilot's seat and pulls out a hand-pistol.
Passes it to her.
KAMEN (CONT'D)
Used one of these before?
HIROKO coolly examines it.
HIROKO
Fabrique Nationale tactical autoloader. Uses twelve mill hollow 'O'
rounds, with through the barrel smart laser-sighting. Sure, I can
handle this.
HIROKO's show-boating and KAMEN knows it, but he still can't help being
a little bit impressed.
KAMEN
Okay. Watch were you point it...
EXT. LINSON'S RANGE - ENCAMPMENT - DAWN
The two of them pick their way across mangled tripods and charred
canvas. Part of the bivouac has collapsed - one of the guide ropes has
burned through.
HIROKO (quietly)
Somebody picked an argument.
KAMEN
Yeah. Somebody won.
HIROKO
Check out the tent.
KAMEN nods and heads off that way, while HIROKO carefully inspects the
wreckage dotted around the perimeter.
INT. TENT - DAWN
KAMEN opens the tent flap and peers inside. ACKLAND's on the cot,
sweating heavily. There is no sign of the FACEHUGGER.
EXT. LINSON'S RANGE - ENCAMPMENT - DAWN
Across the clearing, HIROKO turns a piece of charred plating over in
her hands before discarding it.
Her foot slips on an object sunk into the soft mud. It's MINH's
'howitzer'. A dark slippery patch coats the metal. She crouches down
and rubs her fingers through it. Blood. KAMEN's VOICE intrudes, O.S.
KAMEN (O.S.)
I've found Ackland!
HIROKO
Hold on...
She begins to cross the camp, and her foot catches on a taut length of
rope. SOMETHING swings down from the trees, hitting her squarely in the
face and knocking her off her feet. HIROKO CRIES OUT in fear and
surprise, then freezes at what she sees.
Two bloodied bodies dangle head-first from the bough overhead; BEAUVAIS
and MINH. Each has been skinned and is beyond recognition. KAMEN
hears her exclamation and is out of the tent in an instant. He stops
in his tracks.
KAMEN
Jesus palomino...
EXT. RYUSHI STATION - HELI-JET PAD - MORNING
It's raining again at the base. Under cover of an overhang, HIROKO
watches as ACKLAND is trundled away from the 'chopper' on a paramedic
trolley by GUTTIEREZ and DOC REVNA, an Indian woman in her late
thirties. As KAMEN slams the 'chopper's side door, we see that HIROKO
has left her leather jacket on the passenger seat. KAMEN runs after
REVNA clutching a clear plastic bag.
KAMEN
Wait a minute, Doc...
He hands the bag over to REVNA. She peers at the contents curiously.
The FACEHUGGER is inside, stiff and shriveled.
REVNA
Is this it?
KAMEN
Yeah. Found it curled up in a corner of the tent. Any idea?
REVNA shakes her head.
REVNA
Never come across one of these before. Maybe the original survey team
did. I'll run it through records and see what comes up.
GUTTIEREZ checks that ACKLAND's body's secure on the trolley. KAMEN
raps him on the back to get his attention.
KAMEN
Hey, Jan. See if you can get someone to check out the chopper.
GUTTIEREZ
What's the problem?
KAMEN
She was running a little sluggish on the way back. Think the turbines
might be playing up.
GUTTIEREZ
Give me twenty minutes and I'll do it myself.
KAMEN
Appreciate that.
REVNA interrupts.
REVNA
Where're the bodies?
HIROKO
Bagged and in the back. They're not a pretty sight.
ACKLAND is wheeled into a freight elevator. As KAMEN and HIROKO walk
away across the rain-swept platform, a SHIMMERING FROM detaches itself
from the rear of the chopper and lowers itself to the heli-jet pad.
PREDATOR-VISION.
A newly-arrived PREDATOR scans the towers and modules of the relay-
station with great interest. An oscillating red line appears to the
LEFT of the SHOT as the PREDATOR analyses HIROKO's voice-pattern.
PREDATOR (O.S., distorted)
Not a pretty sight. Not a pretty sight...
He reaches down to his wrist computer and activates it.
EXT. LINSON'S RANGE - IMPACT SIGHT - DAY
Under the cathedral-like light filtering through the trees above, a row
of metal spikes have been driven into the earth. Four are topped with
still-smoking ALIEN skulls. Two and empty.
PREDATOR-VISION.
A newly decapitated ALIEN head is turned around in another PREDATOR's
hands in admiration. This PREDATOR thrusts his trophy onto the next
spike, then stares at the vacant one for a long moment. His wrist
computer BLEEPS for attention...
INT. RYUSHI STATION - COMMAND CENTER
With nothing to do, most of the screens are out and the remaining
personnel bored. PARSONS is reading a magazine with his feet up on the
console, uninterested in HIROKO and KAMEN's conversation nearby.
HIROKO
I'm going to need you to co-sign the report. Until we come up with
something, this'll be treated as first degree murder.
KAMEN
Agreed.
HIROKO
When we get the link back, and I send this in, I.C.C.'ll throw a fit.
KAMEN
Ah, don't worry about I.C.C. They're the least of your problems right
now.
HIROKO
What do you mean?
URIOSTE walks up, very serious. She interrupts.
URIOSTE
Sorry. Can I have a word?
HIROKO
Sure. What's up?
URIOSTE
Three-Pump failed a half-hour ago. The algae must have clogged up an
intake duct.
KAMEN
Think I spoke too soon...
HIROKO
Again? How long before we start noticing the difference?
URIOSTE
I reckon it'll be another day before the smell gets unbearable.
Beauvais usually fixes it, but... ah...
HIROKO knows what she means. BEAUVAIS is dead.
HIROKO
Can you handle it?
URIOSTE
Sure, I can manage. But I'm not going into the Pit on my own.
HIROKO (to Urioste)
Alright, get somebody from the auto-shop. (to Kamen) Is that
alright?
KAMEN
Yeah, no problem. Ask Diller, he's good with his hands.
URIOSTE exchanges a grin with CASSIE.
CASSIE
I'll go along with that.
A SHRILL TRILLING from his console communicator makes PARSONS leap up
to answer.
PARSONS
Parsons. (long beat) Yeah. Hold on.
INT. RYUSHI STATION - INFIRMARY
A CLOSE UP of an eye, bright blue and dilated. DOC REVNA's shining a
hand- held light into ACKLAND's face. ACKLAND's regained
consciousness, but is far from happy. He's sitting on the edge of a
cot in the base Infirmary, an antiseptic room full of automated medical
equipment. The Autodoc is suspended from the ceiling nearby, a
circular cluster of sophisticated manipulator arms tipped with cutting
blades and surgical paraphernalia.
ACKLAND
Hey, c'mon Doc, I feel fine. Really.
REVNA flicks off the probe.
REVNA
Headache? Dehydration?
ACKLAND
The head's okay, but I could sink a six-pack.
REVNA
Forget that. I want you off alcohol for at least seventy-two hours.
I've got some toxin build-up tests still to run.
REVNA shakes her head and turns to KAMEN.
REVNA (CONT'D)
He's broken a fever that would kill a mule, but if he says he's alright
I'm prepared to believe him. He's all yours.
HIROKO enters. She watches from behind KAMEN.
KAMEN
What happened out there, Ack?
ACKLAND (consternated)
What do you mean, 'what happened'? What am I doing back here? Where's
York?
HIROKO (insistent)
What's the last thing you can remember?
ACKLAND thinks hard.
ACKLAND
We... watched a meteor hit over Linson's.
HIROKO and KAMEN exchange significant glances.
HIROKO
A meteor?
ACKLAND
Yeah, it impacted really off. We went out to the crash-site... and...
uh... that's... that's all.
KAMEN
Nothing else?
ACKLAND
No.
KAMEN turns to REVNA.
KAMEN
Show him 'Fido'.
REVNA pulls out a cylindrical glass stasis tube from a wall rack. She
hands it to ACKLAND. He studies the dead FACEHUGGER floating inside
with morbid fascination.
REVNA
Ring any bells?
ACKLAND tries hard to think, but it's as if a wall's slammed down hard
on his mind.
ACKLAND
Not really, no. Ugly little sonuvabitch. What is it?
KAMEN
We thought you might be able to tell us. I found it by your cot at the
camp. You were out cold.
ACKLAND
What did York say?
HIROKO
York's vanished.
ACKLAND
Vanished?
HIROKO
Beauvais and Minh are dead, Ackland. York's gone awol, unless you can
help us go some way toward disproving our suspicion, he's the prime
suspect right now.
The news hits ACKLAND hard. He falters and leans back, addressing
REVNA.
ACKLAND
Can I... um... have some water? Please?
REVNA
Sure.
She goes to fetch a cup.
INT. RYUSHI STATION - COMMISSARY
It's lunchtime, and the SOUND of machinery STEAMING food mixes with the
CHATTER of the twenty-or-so personnel eating there. HIROKO and KAMEN
are deep in conversation across a table.
KAMEN
Do you believe him?
HIROKO
Ackland? I don't know him well enough to say. If we were back on
Earth we could run him though an Aldhoven test and find out for sure.
There's not much we can do out here.
KAMEN stares hard at her. That's not much of an answer, and HIROKO
knows it. She capitulates.
HIROKO (CONT'D)
Alright then, For what it's worth... yes, I do.
KAMEN digs appreciatively into a container of food with his fork.
KAMEN
You should try this seasoned stuff. It's good.
GUTTIEREZ approaches the table carrying something.
GUTTIEREZ
Got a present for you.
He hands HIROKO's leather jacket over to her.
HIROKO
Oh, I've been looking for this! Where was it?
GUTTIEREZ
You left it in the chopper. Oh, and before I forget, Don? I ran that
test you wanted on the turbines.
KAMEN
And...?
GUTTIEREZ
And, nothing. They checked out just fine.
EXT. RYUSHI STATION - PLATFORM - AFTERNOON
A metal rail surrounds the perimeter of the platform. DILLER leans
against it down by the access ramp, smoking a cigarette and idly
blowing rings into the air. BREWSTER pricks up her years and begins to
quietly SNARL. DILLER glances down at her curiously.
DILLER
What's the matter, girl? You smell something?
Now the rhino are restless too. CASSIE walks across the concrete
roadway to join them.
CASSIE
Rhinos look a little antsy,
BREWSTER stops SNARLS and progresses onwards to full-fledged BARKING.
DILLER
Yeah. Never seem 'em act like this before.
PREDATOR-VISION.
CASSIE and DILLER are 'warm', but the rhinos are BREWSTER are 'hotter'
still. Their VOICES and BREWSTER's BARKS are filtered to the point of
unrecognizability, eerily distorted.
CASSIE's the first to hear the SOUND.
CASSIE
Do you hear that?
DILLER straightens up, looking out into the surrounding trees. It's a
FAINT HUM, getting LOUDER every second.
DILLER
Yeah...
A hoverbike appears, trailing smoke from one of it's turbine intakes as
it hurtles towards the base. Halfway between the trees and the ramp,
it clips a fallen log and spins end-over-end. It's rider flies through
the air and hits the swamp face-first. DILLER and CASSIE race down the
ramp with BREWSTER YELPING excitedly in the lead.
CASSIE
I don't believe it.
DILLER splashes through the swamp and pulls the limp body out of the
mire. It's YORK. Blood has caked around his wounded leg.
DILLER
He looks in a bad way. Help me get him up to Infirmary.
CASSIE
Wait a minute...
Something else has caught CASSIE's eye. A "something" almost two
metres in length protruding from the rear of the wrecked hoverbike.
Grasping the haft firmly, she works it free. CASSIE examines the
PREDATOR spear, and slowly shakes her head.
CASSIE (CONT'D)
Holy Mary...
PREDATOR-VISION.
The concealed hunter watches as the colorised human curiously turns the
weapon over in her hands.
INT. RYUSHI STATION - INFIRMARY
REVNA sits at a desk and peers into a microscope. Every so often she
GRUNTS in satisfaction and types something into her computer terminal.
The stasis tube containing the dead FACEHUGGER stands to one side of
the computer screen. The Infirmary is very quiet, and only the gentle
THROB of the air-conditioning intrudes. ACKLAND tosses uncomfortably
on his cot. He finally sits up and massages his chest.
ACKLAND
Oh. Oh God...
REVNA lowers her pen and looks across.
REVNA
What is it?
ACKLAND
It's nothing, Doc. Just a... touch of indigestion... something.
REVNA
Do you want a tablet?
ACKLAND winces in pain. His breathing's getting heavy. He nods.
ACKLAND
Uh-huh.
REVNA gets up swiftly and crosses to an automated pharmacy. ACKLAND's
beginning to COUGH now.
REVNA
That sounds nasty. I'll give you a couple of Demazine.
ACKLAND nods again. His COUGHING has deepened, and now he's banging
his chest with a balled fist. REVNA hurries over with three red
tablets and a disposable cup of water. ACKLAND takes them gratefully
and gulps them down. The effect is almost immediate; ACKLAND quietens
and an appreciative smile comes to his pale lips.
REVNA (CONT'D)
Better?
ACKLAND
Yeah...
Before he has a chance to elaborate, ACKLAND COUGHS once more. A thin
spray of blood and saliva dots REVNA's white smock and speckles her
cheek. ACKLAND's scrabbling fingers grab her lapels as he begins to
hyperventilate. She pulls away, dragging him from the bed in the
process. He falls to the floor, his MOANS growing in volume.
REVNA
Hold on, it's alright. I'm gonna give you a shot...
Her fingers tremble as she clumsily examines a tray of surgical
instruments. She finds a pneumatic spray-injector, fully charged with a
vial of amber liquid attached. ACKLAND SCREAMS and fall backwards onto
the floor, his hands clawing at the air. REVNA fumbles with the
injector control and gives him a blast in his upper arm. ACKLAND
convulses once then goes still, his eyes staring fixedly at the
ceiling. The Infirmary is deathly quiet once again.
We hear a gentle CRACKING, like twigs being snapped. REVNA watches in
horrified fascination as a pool of blood spreads swiftly outward across
the floor from below ACKLAND's corpse. REVNA shudders as the body
moves a little, then is rolled over by something underneath it.
WHAT SHE SEES. ACKLAND's body slumps forward onto it's front,
revealing a gaping cavity in his back. Bits of spine and ribcage are
just visible. A CHESTBURSTER - the second stage of the ALIEN lifeform
- pulls itself clear and wipes red gunk from it's body with a pair of
still-underdeveloped arms.
Around it's head is a distinctive nascent crest. It kicks away from
ACKLAND with a powerful push from it's legs, quickly gaining balance.
After a moment appraising it's new environment, it stalks off behind a
table. REVNA thinks quickly. She leaps forward and THUMPS a large red
stud next to the pressure-door, which promptly RUMBLES closed.
