Terry Bisson

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Terry Bisson Page 2

by Alien Resurrection Script [lit]

Call!

  CALL

  What?

  ELGYN

  We're docking! Are the cargo trucks secured?

  CALL

  I checked 'em an hour ago.

  ELGYN

  I don't want em so much as rattled. Any leakage, I take it out of your hide.

  CALL

  Trust me, boss.

  ELGYN (laughs)

  Not my style.

  He leans down, looks under the thresher. Lying on a gurneylike steel dolly, working

  under the machine, is VRIESS, chie mechanic. Late forties, in pretty good shape

  considering he's got no legs.

  ELGYN

  How's it looking?

  VRIESS

  It's never gonna be pretty. but she'll fly. The other one's a total fucking write-off.

  ELGYN

  You'll make it good.

  VRIESS

  Don't be so sure.

  (calls out) Call! Adjust the generator plugs!

  ELGYN (straightening up)

  They just gotta run, Vriess. They don't gotta run far.

  He exits.

  CUT TO: INT. HALL CONTINTJOUS

  CHRISTIE is up and mostly dressed. He is black, very large, and has distinctly military bearing. He speaks with quiet, don't-fuck-with-me authority.

  CHRISTIE

  What's our status?

  ELGYN

  We're coming in. Time to enjoy a little of the general's hospitality.

  ST JUST

  Oh great. Army food..

  ST JUST ("San-Jhoost") is slim, Asian -- and the epitome of cool.

  Moves quickly and silently, a sly grin playing about lips. He is strapping a contraption

  to his forearm. It resembles a deringer holder, but a very complex one.

  ELGYN We could use a rest, till the heat's off and Vriess can get those harvesters on their feet.

  This'll keep us for a couple of days, assuming the natives are friendly.

  CHRISTIE

  We expecting any trouble?

  ELGYN

  From Perez? I doubt it. Still, let's be ever vigilant.

  CUT TO: INT. CARGO BAY CONTNIUOUS

  ANGLE: VRIESS working intently, the extremely nasty blades of the thresher inches above his head.

  VRIESS

  I'm patched in. Check the sequence timer.

  (no answer)

  Call?

  ANGLE: THE CONTROLS

  A hand reaches in toward the ON switch.

  ANGLE: VRIESS

  VRIESS

  Call?

  The thresher GRINDS TO LIFE -- a hundred blades and claws spinning at Vriess's head!

  Vriess wheels out from under the machine in a second flat.

  VRIESS

  Goddamnit!

  The second he's out he hits a lever and the back of the dolly flies up,

  transforming it-into a wheelchair.

  VRIESS

  Johner! You son of a whore!

  JOHNER jumps down from the machine, laughing. He's thickset, mean and ugly, with

  ugly scars crisscrossing his ugly bald head.

  Thought I'd give you a little haircut there.

  VRIESS

  You fuck!

  Call, who has been over on the other side of the thresher, ably climbs up on it

  and switches it off.

  JOHNER

  You should see your face. Vriess, you must have soiled yourself.

  VRIESS One of these days I'm gonna kill you. My hand to god.

  JOHNER

  Well, you already gave him your feet ...

  CALL (jumping down)

  You're a limp fucking scrotum, you know that?

  JOHNER

  Either of you want a piece of me, I'm less than busy.

  VRIESS

  Any time.

  CALL

  Vriess. Forget it. He's been sucking down too much homebrew.

  JOHNER

  Don't push me, little Annalee. You hang with us a while, you'll learn I'm not

  the man with whom to fuck.

  He exits, full of annoying bravado.

  VRIESS

  That inbred cocksucker.

  He feels his forehead, comes up with a bit of blood. Realizes how close it was ...

  Call looks up at the thresher.

  CALL

  1 hate machines.

  VRIESS

  Well, now we know it works ...

  CUT TO: EXT. AURIGA DOCKING BAY

  As it opens to admit the proportionally tiny ship. The bay on the bottom of the Auriga

  - the doors are actually OVER the ship, which rises into the airlock.

  INT. AIR LOCK

  The outer doors close under the ship. Pressurized air shoot into the airlock for

  a few seconds, and then the inner door opens. the ship rising into the bay.

  INT. BAY

  The ship moves slowly along the huge dock to land gently at far end. The top of

  the ship is nearly level with a grated platform that runs the length of the bay.

  Three soldiers in full armour stand rigid on the platform. The hatch atop the ship slowly

  opens. One by one the crew files out. Seeing them en masse, we get a clearer view of

  what separates them from this Environment. They're not wearing uniforms. They're an

  eclectic, fiercely indivualist group, their look varied -- spots of bright color showing

  through militarian space gear. Johner's bright tuorquise bowling shirt. Elgy's and

  St Just's floorlength leather dusters. Even Vriess's chair stands out as he wheels down

  the platform.

  What th ey have in common is the toughness, the wary eyes, leathery skin. The cool readiness

  to kill. These guys are smugglers. A long while ago, you'd have called them pirates

  All eight of them emerge, one by one, looking around them. They file past the silent,

  uniformed soldiers. The last one suddenly puts a hand on Johner's jacket, stops him.

  There is a bulge under it. A green sensor light on the back of the soldier's glove turns

  red when he touches the bulge.

  SOLDIER

  No projectile weaponry is allowed on board the vessel, sir.

  Johner opens his jacket, shows what he's packing: a large thermos.

  JOHNER

  Moonshine. My own. Much more dangerous.

  SOLDIER

  Sorry, sir.

  ELGYN (to Perez)

  What, do you think we're going to hijack the vessel? All eight of us?

  No, I think one of your asshole crew is going to get drunk and put a bullet through

  the hull. we are in space,Elgyn

  He enters from the antechamber, motions for the crew to follow him.

  Vriess comes abreast of the soldier.

  VRIESS

  Wanna check the chair?

  The soldier makes no response, simply falls in behind Call, the last of them.

  CUT TO: INT. ANTECHAMBER

  The long neck that connects the bay to the body of the ship. The group proceeds down

  it, the crew looking about them at the sterile grandeur.

  ST JUST

  This place is really clean.

  JOHNER (to a guard)

  Hey. You got any whores on this vessel?

  (the guard remains stonefaced)

  Any loose women with bad eyesight?

  PEREZ

  I think you'll find our accomodations somewhat spartan. Although the cook sets a good-table.

  JOHNER That ain't what I'm hungry for.

  VRIESS (to Call)

  What's the matter?

  She is looking around her, somewhat tensely.

  CALL

  I don't like army.

  HILLARD

  Yeah, join the fucking club.

  CUT TO: ANGLE: MONEY

  A stack of bills dropped down on a desk, then another. They're green, and identifiably

  money. But they're square,
about the size of cocktail napkins. The face on them is

  unfamiliar. Thousand dollar bills.

  WIDER ANGLE: INT. PEREZIS CHAMBERS LATER

  A good sized suite, decorated in a sparse, military fashion. Perez is behind his desk,

  the money sitting between him and Elgyn.

  PEREZ

  This wasn't easy to come by.

  ELGYN

  Neither was our cargo. You're not pleading poverty, are you?

  PEREZ

  We're well funded. I mean the bills. There's not many that still deal in coin.

  ELGYN

  Just the ones that don't like their every transaction recorded. The fringe element.

  I guess that would include you, though, wouldn't it?

  PEREZ

  Drink?

  ELGYN

  Constantly. I'm guessing whatever you've got going here wasn't exactly approved by congress.

  Perez pours two whiskeys.

  PEREZ (changing the subject)

  So where do you go from here?

  ELGYN

  Out by the Handle. We've got a couple of harvesters, we can unload 'em on one of the

  collectives if Vriess and Call get 'em working.

  PEPEZ

  Call. Where'd you find her?

  ELGYN

  She is severely fuckable,isn't she? - And the very devil with a socket wrench.

  I think Vriess somewhat pines.

  He takes a stack of bill, smells it. He likes the smell.-

  ELGYN

  She is curious about this little transaction. You can hardly blame her, Awfully cloak and

  dagger...

  Perez hands a drink to El%m.

  PEPEZ

  This is an army operation.

  ELGYN

  Most army research labs don't have to operate outside regulated space.

  And they don't call for the kind of cargo we brought.

  PEREZ

  Do you want something, Elgyn?

  ELGYN .

  Just bed and board, couple of days worth. If we're not imposing.

  PEREZ

  Not at all. Keep out of the restricted areas, don't start any fights, and mi casa is yours too.

  Elgyn drinks to that.

  PEREZ

  I trust, of course, that you can mind your own business.

  ELGYN (smiles)

  I'm famous for it.

  They drink. CUT TO: INT. HALLWAY - RESTRICTED AREA

  The 'cargo' is rolled down the corridor, armed guards flank it. It is wheeled into:

  INT. A CHAMBER

  Where Wren and a few others are waiting. Gediman looks a little nervous,

  not sure this is a good idea.

  The cargo is locked into place on the floor and and a guard works the electric lock.

  It springs open and the guard slides off a side panel.

  They are stacked one on the other, five of them in all, cryotubes. People sleeping inside.

  One by one the tubes are hauled to one side of the room as the second unit is wheeled in.

  By the end there are ten people sleeping side by side in their tubes in the dark chamber.

  The scientists meanwhile retire to INT. AN ADJOINING CHAMBER

  with a long glass window looking at the chamber.

  The last of the guards leaves the chamber and we see the door lock behind them.

  Wren starts pushing buttons.

  The glass tops of the cryotubes slide open. We see temperature and lifesign gauges begin

  to change..

  There is a thick whirring as a part of the ceiling above the tubes lowers, lowers,

  and rotates slowly.

  Stuck to the other side of it are ten alien eggs. The ceiling rotates just enough so that

  they are aimed at the heads of the sleepers.

  For a moment nothing happens.

  One of the sleepers eyes flutter slightly. Opens. All ten eggs open simultaneously.

  CUT TO: INT. CONFERENCE HALL

  A huge room, used for assemblies and events. it has a chain basketball net set up at one

  end, crude court lines taped to the floor. Ripley stands beneath the net with a ball,

  dribbling absently.

  At the other end are set up tables and folding chairs. The crew of the Betty, sans Elgyn,

  are filing in to eat here. Johner spies Ripley, smiles.

  JOHNER

  Ooh.

  Johner comes up to Ripley. Her expression makes it clear how much she enjoys having

  him in her face.

  JOHNER

  How about a little one on one?

  She keeps dribbling, says nothing.

  JOHNER

  What do you say?

  RIPLEY

  Get away from me.

  JOHNER

  Why should I?

  RIPLEY

  Because pain hurts.

  He falters a moment at her quiet threat, then:

  JOHNER Are you gonna hurt me then? 1 think I might enjoy that.

  He smiles his ugly smile. She smiles back.

  She hits,him solidly in the chest -- and he flies back ten feet, landing badly on a

  group of chairs.

  His mates fly into action, Christie grabs a standing ashtray. Hillard jumps Ripley from behind. She throws her off with e -- chucks the basketball at her hard enough to pop the air o of it.

  Christie swings at her and SMASHES her right in the face.

  She arcs back... and right back up, at Christie's throat before he has a chance to react,

  squeezing, batting away the ashtray just a trickle of blood coming down her nose --

  Johner cames at her again and she leaps on him, throws him to the ground, snarling,

  SHE'S GONNA RIP HIS THROAT OUT WITH HER TEETH.

  WREN

  Ripley.

  Ripley looks up and four guards are pointing burners at her. Wren and Gediman behind them.

  Call, standing to one side with Vriess, reacts visibly to the name. Everybody is slowly

  backing off. St Just stands with his hands behind his back, as if concealing something.

  Call watches in rapt silence.

  WREN

  Don't let's have a scene.

  Ripley lets go of Johner, stands.

  RIPLEY

  He... smells

  WREN

  I imagine he does.

  JOHNER (barely breathing)

  What the fuck are you?

  She looks down on him -- in both senses of the phrase. -Look around at everone staring at her.

  She wipes the bit of blood from under her nose, flicks it away. Exits.

  WREN (to Gediman, amused)

  Social skills, less than a hundred' percent.

  ANGLE: RIPLEY'S BLOOD

  The few drops she flicked away sizzle on the floor -- not eating through, but melting

  a small patch.

  TO: INT. LABS - LATER

  A large metal box is being wheeled next to an observation pen. Soldiers surround it,

  weapons at the ready. Not one of them at ease.

  Wren and Gediman watch intently.

  WREN

  What's the status on the Queen?

  GEDIMAN

  We still haven't detected the origin of the reproductive anomalies. But the egg laying

  stage appears to be over.

  WREN

  Did we do something wrong?

  GEDIMAN

  I don't know. I think we covered everything. But these redundancies...

  A soldier lifts a panel in the pen and then doors to the cage come open automatically.

  Everyone waits.

  A fullgrown alien suddenly bolts into the pen. The soldier shut it as quickly as humanly

  possible.

  WREN

  Father, check security status, observation pen six.

  Father, the voice of the ship, replies after a moment in a dulcet, comforting tone.

  FATHER

  Pen six secur
e, security systems functional at 100%.

  WREN

  Good. Now the others.

  CUT TO: INT. SLEEP CHAMBERS - NIGHT

  We see VARIOUS ANGLES of people at night:

  Rane, in,a chamber on the Auriga.

  Hillard and Elgyn, in a slightly more lush one.

  Perez, in his quarters.

  VRIESS, rolling about the Aurigals engine room, looking it over.

  Christie, St Just, Call and Johner, all playing poker in the mess hall.

  CUT TO: INT. OBSERVATION ROOM - RIGHT

  A sleep cycle is indicated here by the low lighting and the near emptiness of the room.

  Gediman alone is in here, writing observations down in a notebook as he watches the pen.

  Inside are three aliens. Two of them seem to be hibernating, curled up in the corner,

  but the third faces the glass, tilting its head and hissing at it.

  Gediman sits right up close to it, his face just inches away from the beast's.

  It draws back its lips, opens its mouth. The metallic tongue issues slowly forth,

  dripping with slime.

  GEDIMAN (softly, fascinated)

  Is that a distended externus lingua ... or are you just happy to see me?

  The creature hisses. retracts the tongue. Gediman scribbles few notes.

  Something moves in the dark behind him. Before he can notice, a hand closes on his shoulder.

  It's Ripley. She steps forward, eyes locked on the cage. Gediman seems o nly mildly surprised.

  GEDIMAN

  How did you get in here?

  RIPLEY

  Beautiful, aren't they?

  GEDIMAN

  Yes. Yes they are. I've been monitoring their interaction.

  He points at a audiograph by the wall, blips and waves interrupting the vibrating line,

  indicating sound.

  He notices that her hand is still on her shoulder.

  GEDIMAN

  They communicate. Through ultrasonic soundwaves. Sort of like bats.

  RIPLEY

  I know.

  She looks at him.

  RIPLEY

  I can hear them.

  GEDIMAN (smiling)

  Amazing ...

  She runs her hand through the back of his hair, gently urging him up off his chair.

  GEDIMAN

  Ripley...

  RIPLEY

  Shhhhh.

  She pulls him close, kisses him. Lightly at first, then deeply - holding his head

  with both hands. He responds with surprising warmth, the kiss drawing out, pulling slowly apart.

  She looks at him, smiles.

  An alien tongue SHOOTS out of her mouth, burying itself in his face.

  SMASH CUT TO: INT. RIPLEY'S CHAMBER

  As she suddenly awakes, eyes wide, breathing hard.

  She has been sleeping, we see, in the same position she was before: squatting in the middle

  of the room. She looks about her, recovering from the nightmare... Her

  breathing slows. With a somewhat fatalistic look, she settles back to sleep.

 

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