EXT. THE OUTBACK – EARLY EVENING
The high winds are still kicking up a lot of dust.
Ripley, favouring her ankle only slightly, is striding purposefully. Behind her by a few steps, still looking semi-dazed, Johner does his best to keep up.
JOHNER
(calling)
Hey! Hey! Where the fuck are we going?
RIPLEY
Away from the crash site.
JOHNER
No shit. I mean where to?
RIPLEY
Somewhere that’s away from the crash site.
Growling, Johner picks up the pace, catches Ripley. He grabs her by the arm and spins her around.
JOHNER
You’re a real live wire for a dead bitch,
you know that?
Ripley pulls her arm away roughly.
RIPLEY
(in Johner’s face)
You’ve been involved in the illegal abduction
of human beings as part of an operation that
had to have been set up by somebody pretty
big. The operation went to hell, and somebody pretty big might want to know why. So somebody pretty big might start looking for answers
from someone who was involved in that operation. I am that operation, and I’m looking at someone who was involved. Did I connect the dots
clearly enough for you?
Ripley turns and stalks away again.
Pg. 10
JOHNER
(lighter tone)
So, where are we going?
RIPLEY
(calling back)
How the fuck should I know?
JOHNER
At last. A straight answer.
He shuffles after her into the gathering gloom.
EXT – THE BETTY CRASH SITE – NIGHT
A big rugged, armoured vehicle, a WARHORSE, sits a little away from what remains of the still smouldering, tangled remnants of the Betty. Further back a second vehicle, a CHEETAH: much smaller, but just as formidable looking.
From various points around the wreck, a dozen lightly armed military personnel are returning at a jog to converge on the big armoured transport. Shoulder patches reveal that they are members of the UNITED SYSTEMS MILITARY (USM).
While the others begin to climb through an opened side panel, one, a SERGEANT WYNDHAM (name tag on breast pocket), approaches the passenger side of the smaller vehicle. He is a lumbering Troll of a man, but his eyes and his voice are quick. He looks up to his superior seated there.
WYNDHAM
(saluting)
Sir.
In the cab, COLONEL LAURENS (name tag on breast pocket), takes a drag from a long, brown cigarette. The exhaled smoke plays lazily around his coal- black face. He doesn’t look around. When he speaks, it is slow and measured.
LAURENS
So, what do we have, Ross?
WYNDHAM
The remains of only three bodies, Sir.
But no Ripley, and no ALFs.Pg. 11
LAURENS
No way it was going to be that easy. So,
who dropped in? Anyone we know?
Wyndham refers to a glowing filament on his left gauntlet.
WYNDHAM
DNA reference fingers a John Vriess, one
of the Betty crew, and Vincent Distephano,
a private from the Auriga’s compliment.
LAURENS
You said three.
WYNDHAM
Well, Sir, the third one . . .was an Auton.
At that, Laurens looks around and down.
LAURENS
Really.
(a beat)
Any motion in the vicinity?
WYNDHAM
Nothing humanoid within range, Sir.
LAURENS
Tracks?
WYNDHAM
The blow makes it tough, Sir. But there
may be something heading south.
Laurens nods. He takes another long drag from the cigarette; lets the smoke billow lazily.
INT. THE WARHORSE - CONTINUOUS
The soldiers are stowing their weapons, seating themselves.
One sour-faced individual removes his dusty helmet and gives a vigorous scratch to his tight blonde buzz cut.
SOUR FACE
Fuckin’ ghost op. this is. Did ya see that
mess? Nothin’ walked out o’ that, I’m
tellin’ ya. Nothin’. Waste o’ fuckin’ time.
Pg. 12
A second soldier, already seated, gives a short laugh.
SOUR FACE (cont’d)
(to the laugher)
Somethin’ funny?
The laugher taps the side of his helmet.
LAUGHER
Listening to Joey Joey on Reefer WrapUp,
here. Somebody just took apart an emu
ranch south of Cairns
punched holes through the ranchers’ heads
with the badass end of a pickaxe or something.
SOUR FACE
(almost cracking a smile)
Kids today.
LAUGHER
Then the sickos chase down a couple
of tasty ones and rip out the bellies.
Must’ve just liked the soft meat.
(chuckles again)
SOUR FACE
(lightening up)
Yeah. We should get in on that action.
Tangle with some sons-o-bitches emu
rustlers. Yeah. That’s what this unit
was made for.
To a man, the team laughs.
THIRD SOLDIER
I don’t know, man. These guys might be tough.
You ever try to catch an emu?
The team laughs again.
SOUR FACE
No problem.
He scoops up his ‘rifle’, starts whipping it around, taking a bead on everyone. They begin ducking, yelling in fun.
Pg. 13
SOUR FACE
Nothin’ faster than ol’ Quicksilver, here.
WYNDHAM
(O.S.)
Your Acer 10 has a nickname, Corporal?
The laughter stops. Sour Face lowers his weapon. He turns.
ANOTHER ANGLE
As Sgt. Wyndham climbs in, the big vehicle lurches and starts moving.
EXT. THE OUTBACK - NIGHT
Ripley and Johner are hunkered amongst some overhanging boulders, the boulders themselves shrouded by tall scrub.
Ripley is stoic, squatting on her haunches, forearms on knees. She seems lost in thought.
Johner gets up, starts pacing. He blows into his hands, slaps his shoulders.
JOHNER
Jesus. How can one place be so hot and so
cold in the same day? Where are we, anyway?
RIPLEY
JOHNER
Is that right? And how would you know that?
Ripley slowly looks up at him.
RIPLEY
I saw its shape when we were really high
up in the sky.
JOHNER
(snorts a laugh)
Wow. A real wiz at geography, now.
Silence between them. The breeze moans. Johner paces.
Pg. 14
RIPLEY
Johner. How long had Call been with your
crew?
JOHNER
Curious about little Annalee, huh? I guess
you’re missin’ her now that she’s just a
heap of fried circuits. Yeah. I kinda
got a feelin’ about you two. I’m sensitive
to the chick stuff, you know.
Ripley’s face cracks an incredulous smile.
RIPLEY
Are you for real?
JOHNER
Believe it, Dead Girl. Which, by the
way, I don’t hold against you; you bein’
a zombie, an’ all.
(a beat)
But there are other things I’d be
willin’ to hold against you.
He steps a little closer to her.
RIPLEY
I’d break you like a tooth pick.
JOHNER
Yeah, but what a way to go.
A BEAT.
JOHNER (cont’d)
So what’s your story, Dead Girl? How’d
you get to be...dead?
Ripley sighs, drops her head slightly.
RIPLEY
(slowly)
I was an officer on a mining barge. We
investigated a beacon way outside the
lanes. We found a derelict ship with
Alien eggs. Kane, our XO, was...
impregnated, and the Alien killed my
Pg. 15
RIPLEY (cont’d)
whole crew. I was the only survivor.
Later I went back to the planet with a
shit load of Marines. Lot of good that
did. Four of us escaped in a drop ship,
but the Aliens had managed to get eggs
onto it.
(softly)
There was a young girl...Newt...and a
Marine. His name was Duane Hicks...
(a beat)
We crashed on a prison colony...
(short laugh)
Guess who survived again. But this time
I was infected. So I took a dive into a
furnace of molten lead.
(grim again)
But the fucking military scavenged my
blood from samples taken by the colony’s
medic. And here I am. I’m not Ellen
Ripley...I’m Number 8.
A BEAT
JOHNER
(dumbstruck)
But...like....
Ripley jumps up, casts her head from side to side, listening to the night, perhaps smelling the wind.
RIPLEY
(with urgency)
Listen!
A BEAT. Another. We HEAR a distant METALLIC SQUEAK.
RIPLEY (cont’d)
There.
Johner turns, listening into the night.
Another SQUEAK. A muted ENGINE RUMBLE.
RIPLEY (cont’d)
Military?
Pg. 16
JOHNER
Could be. Half-track, maybe.
The engine noise grows louder.
Ripley touches Johner’s arm, motions to him, and they back up, crouching into the cover of the rocks.
ANOTHER ANGLE
Two beaten-up Jeep-sized vehicles, one a half-track, one a 4x4 emerge from the gloom. Each has a crew of driver, passenger, and a gunner manning an elevated weapon in the rear. They are dressed in desert fatigues, heads swathed in dusty cloth, but equipped with night-vision goggles.
The vehicles stop and sit idling well away from the rocky cover. After a moment the half-track moves, and begins a wide circle of the rocks.
ON JOHNER
as he follows the half-track’s progress.
HIS POV
through a crack between two boulders. The half-track takes up a flanking position, on the opposite side of the rocks.
RESUME SCENE
The passenger from the 4x4 vehicle alights, and walks forward, his progress covered by the rear gunner. He refers to a handheld device, then raises his goggles to the rocks, and peels back a layer of fabric from his mouth.
PASSENGER
(voice raised)
Call!
ON RIPLEY AND JOHNER
Shocked, Ripley and Johner glance at each other. Ripley snaps her hand up for silence.
Pg. 17
ON THE PASSENGER
PASSENGER
Call! It’s me. PIPER.
ON RIPLEY AND JOHNER
Ripley wavers. She looks at Johner who mouths “it’s Piper” and shrugs.
A BEAT.
Ripley nods to herself, steps forward, Johner close behind.
RESUME SCENE
The gunner swings his weapon to target Ripley and Johner. The driver, also, produces a rifle and gets a bead on them.
RIPLEY
Hi, Piper. You’re looking good.
Piper hesitates, then a smile cracks over his lips, his only visible feature. He pulls his goggles away from his eyes and props them up on his forehead. He is young.
PIPER
You got me. I’ve been told many times
that my big mouth is my worst feature.
And you are...?
From behind him the driver shouts...
DRIVER
That’s not Call.
JOHNER
Yeah, that’s who she is. She’s “not Call”.
PIPER
(to Johner)
OK, let’s try you, then.
RIPLEY
He’s my manservant.
Pg. 18
JOHNER
Hey, I like the sound of that.
PIPER
Well this is getting us nowhere.
Ripley takes a step towards Piper.
RIPLEY
Call’s dead.
PIPER
(shocked)
What?
RIPLEY
Now we’re getting somewhere.
JOHNER
(joining Ripley)
Look, son, why don’t you just take us
to your leader.
Ripley casts Johner a glance.
JOHNER
(shrugs)
I’ve always wanted to say that.
DRIVER
(urgent, calling)
Piper. We got company.
ANOTHER ANGLE
From its flanking position the half-track coughs into life, and accelerates back towards its partner.
RESUME SCENE
PIPER
(calling back)
Who?
ON THE DRIVER
who glances down at
Pg. 19
A DASHBOARD DETAIL
Miniature monitors; symbols, figures, and text scrolling; fuzzy, red-tinged shapes of two vehicles.
DRIVER
(O.S., calling)
Looks like a WarHorse and a Cheetah.
ON PIPER
DRIVER (cont’d)
(O.S., calling)
Definitely USM. Two clicks and closing.
PIPER
(to Ripley and Johner)
Let’s go.
They hesitate.
PIPER
(sarcastic)
I’ll take you to our leader.
JOHNER
(to Ripley)
Good enough for me.
They move.
ANOTHER ANGLE
There is a WHISTLE. The arriving half-track EXPLODES.
RESUME SCENE
Ripley, Johner, and Piper throw their hands up, and run for the 4x4 that guns its engine and charges to meet them.
PIPER
SHIT!
RIPLEY
Somebody’s pissed.
Pg. 20
They meet the swerving vehicle. Ripley and Johner vault into the back, Piper onto the passenger side frame.
PIPER
(to driver, screaming)
Go! Go! Go!
INT. THE WARHORSE – CONTINUOUS
The dozen troops, helmeted and with weapons primed, are up and reacting to the attack with murmurs of disbelief. A few are holding the walls for balance in the rollicking vehicle.
IN THE CAB
Wyndham is standing between the driver and co-driver, supporting himself on one of the chair backs. He is barely in control, growling with venom into his helmet mike.
WYNDHAM
Well get it fixed, Rooney. NOW!
CO-DRIVER
(to Wyndham)
Sergeant. It’s the Colonel.
Wyndham squares his jaw. Nods. The co-driver flicks a switch on a console before him.
WYNDHAM
(into his helmet mike)
Sir, our gunner says his targeting system
is malfuncti...
LAURENS
(O.S., tinny)
Ross, that was the worst warning shot
I’ve ever seen. If there are packages to
be had, I want them. . .undamaged.
WYNDHAM
Sir, I…
LAURENS
(O.S., with menace)
Stop them, Sergeant. I need them alive.
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