Alien: Resurrection Page #3

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He proceeds into:

INT. CARGO BAY - CONTINUOUS

It's the largest space in this boat, two stories high. Taking up most

of the space are two HARVESTERS, big rusty hovering threshers roughly

the size of winnebagos.

As Elgyn enters, we CRANE UP to reveal ANNALEE-CALL working atop one of

them.

She's young, tough -- at home with this motley bunch despite her youth

and prettiness.

ELGYN:

Call! CALL!

The music is louder here -- it's blasting from a box in the corner.

Elgyn switches it off.

ELGYN:

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 f***ing 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-f***-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 f***!

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 f***ing 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 f***.

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 they 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 a**hole 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 f***ing 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.

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