Alien Nation

(reporter) The military

have escorted them down...

It looked like a door was opening.

I don't think it is.

- This is not a hoax. That is real out there.

- It's silver-grey in colour...

(newsreader) That was the scene in

California's Mojave Desert three years ago.

The historic frst view of the Newcomer ship

upon its dramatic arrival.

These "Newcomers", we soon learned,

were a genetically-engineered race

adapted for hard labour

in almost any environmental condition.

In effect, their ship was a slave ship,

washed ashore on Earth, with no way

to get back to where they came from.

Now that civil liberties attorneys have had

the Newcomers released from quarantine,

what are the reactions in

communities where they've settled?

Why do we have to take them?

Why can't they go to Russia?

I'll drink to that!

I'm in college now. I'm going to be

going to school with nine- or ten-year-olds.

There goes the grade curve.

There goes my job future.

I have to compete with... If a ten-year-old is

twice as smart as me... I'll be workin'here.

By far the strongest words of acceptance

came from then-president Ronald Reagan.

We've come to a turning point,

a moment for hard decisions.

If not us, who?

And if not now, when?

Hey, Henry, how you doin' tonight?

You workin' hard?

You get your green card, buddy?

Slagtown. I hate this place. Look at that geek.

I hate it. Look at this crap.

- I wonder if their plumbing's the same.

- Yeah, it is.

What? Oh, man, get outta here.

I don't trust 'em, that's all.

Good day... (belches)

Take a hike, will ya? Jesus Christ!

God, that stink!

Why has it gotta be sour milk they get wasted

on? Why not Jack Daniel's or Thunderbird?

What's wrong with that?

Look at this. Fred Astaire and Ginger Slag.

What the hell's that?

Look at this. They call this a game.

It's a circle-jerk.

Cowboys and Slags.

They make up sh*t. I don't know what that is.

Beatin' each other to death.

So are you gonna go

or are you not gonna go?

How do I go?

Put on your wash-and-wear suit,

clip-on bow tie,

have your landlady tie your shoes for you,

then you show up at the church. It's simple.

- Me and Carol are going.

- That's nice.

Come on, now. We've known Kristin since...

well, since she was conceived.

Remember? Up in that cabin at Big Bear?

You and Edie pounded the walls so hard,

me and Carol picked plaster

out of our hair for a week.

I don't know, Tug.

Obviously, I want to go to

Kristin's wedding, but I don't...

You're just bummed out because your ex-wife

and her new husband are payin' for it.

If Kristin had to get married where I could

afford it, it would be beans in a bowling alley.

- Now does that look suspicious or what?

- Whatever gave you that idea?

This is one-Henry-seven.

We got a possible 2-11 in progress.

Porter's Minimarket on Virginia and Court.

Request backup.

Come on, forget that sh*t. Let's go.

- Listen.

- Mm-hm?

Pay attention. Tell me what those

ugly bastards are doin' in there.

- Two gentlemen. Long, black raincoats.

- Long, black raincoats.

Two gentlemen. Long, black raincoats.

With long, black shotguns.

Oh, that's no good.

That's not very good at all.

- Have you got your vest?

- Of course. In the trunk of the car.

- That's where mine is. I feel better now(!)

- Yeah.

Well, I'm gonna go across the street

and get a better angle on that door.

- Yeah, you watch your ass.

- You watch my ass.

(shouts in alien language)

(shouts in alien language)

Oh, sh*t.

Freeze! Hey, freeze!

(woman screams)

Tug! Get outta there!

I can't! Do you mind?

Tug! Go ahead, I'll cover ya!

OK...

Oh, sh*t!

- What's happenin'?

- Hi there, sir. How are you?

Do you mind stepping out here for a second?

We got a bit of trouble.

(speaks alien language)

Tug... Oh, sh*t.

Stop!

(machine-gun fre)

(running footsteps)

(shouts in alien language)

(siren approaches)

Whoa, whoa! Take it easy!

- Are you OK?

- I'm all right.

I'd better call this in.

Ow, my hand.

Are you all right?

God, I hate you.

Get outta here!

I don't need your goddamn help.

Take it easy, will ya?

(policeman) Except for the magazine,

it looks like a standard 12-gauge.

- So how come it went clean through the car?

- BRI sabot slugs. These puppies are nasty.

Tug might as well have been

hidin' behind a rosebush.

Heavy stuff for knocking off a minimarket.

An identical round was used in the shooting

of a Newcomer named Hubley two days ago.

- Yeah, but how come?

- Francisco, give me a hand. She won't budge.

Hey, listen. Do you think

there's a connection?

Hey!

Up yours.

- (answer phone beeps)

- (woman) Hello, Daddy?

Dad, are you there?

Pick up the phone, please.

I really need to talk to you.

Daddy, why are you being so stubborn?

Can't you just forget about your

hassles with Mom? It's my wedding.

I mean, come on! You gotta be there.

I already worked it out with Tug.

Nothing is gonna stop him from

dragging you to that church on Sunday.

It's at 2.30, and please don't be late.

I love you, Daddy.

I shouldn't have said that. Now you're

gonna pull this tape out and save it.

- Bye.

- (beep)

This is Mark Helfrey from the gas company,

Mr Sykes. Your bill is past due...

Matt.

- Oh, Matt, I'm sorry, man.

- Yeah, thanks.

- What did you dig up?

- Jesus, Sykes, it's not even been ten hours.

Me and Alterez are on it, OK?

Yeah. That makes me real happy.

Ever tried to make a case in Slagtown?

The list of Newcomer informants is about

as long as a list of Mexican war heroes.

Hey, come on!

Nobody talks to nobody down there.

Half of 'em don't even speak English.

The other half, only when it suits 'em.

No, it's gonna take some time.

Yeah, I know it'll take time with you two.

Nobody wanders off.

I've got an announcement.

You OK, Sykes?

I'll make it short. This is a directive from

Chief Evaner, on orders from the mayor,

under mandate from the Federal

Bureau of Newcomer Relations.

As of nine this morning,

one Newcomer uniform officer

has been promoted to

the rank of detective, third grade.

We've got him, gentlemen. Volunteers for

duty with the detective, see me in my office.

Otherwise... I will choose a volunteer myself.

That's all.

(detective) What'll he do if he gets

too many volunteers? Draw straws?

(Alterez) How long has this Slag been

on the force anyway? A year max, right?

I was in uniform eight years

before I became detective.

(detective) I don't know about you guys,

but I won't take this. I'm callin' the union.

Where the hell's he going?

- Bob.

- Yeah, Sykes?

Yeah, I'd like to volunteer for duty

with the new, uh...

- Um, you know...

- Look, Matt...

You don't have to jump right back in.

Why don't you take a few days, relax?

I'd like to stay on, thanks.

All right.

Detective Sergeant Sykes,

Detective Francisco.

- We have met.

- Yeah, right.

Victor Goldrup, Mayor's Office.

Congratulations, gentlemen.

You won't be investigating

Bill Tuggle's death, you know.

- Leave that to Fedorchuk.

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