Alien Nation

FADE IN:

EXT. MOJAVE DESERT - DAY (TELEVISION IMAGE)

A LONG LENS SHOT of a far distant metallic object hovering

just above the ground -- maybe two or three miles away.

The heat waves and the light refraction off the desert-

scape make the object undulate rhythmically, keeping its

true shape and appearance indistinct.

The VIDEO CAMERA recording this scene zooms back, then

pans over -- revealing a semicircle of US Army vehicles

and personnel. Army Engineers with their tripod-mounted

scopes and binoculars are shoulder to shoulder with the

armed infantry. Everyone stares off at the same point on

the horizon. Waiting.

The VIDEO CAMERA movements are HANDHELD, unsteady, as it

moves through the line of Army personnel to reveal a

second, less organized semicircle of observers fifty yards

behind the Army. LOCALS from nearby towns perch in truck

beds and on car roofs, Budweiser and Fritos at hand, eyes

glued to the distant object.

The VIDEO CAMERA image climbs up onto the roof of a parked

local TV van, finds the object again in the distance,

zooms in, and waits, like everyone else.

Abruptly the VIDEO IMAGE contracts, becoming a box

CHROMAKEYED behind CNN reporter DUNCAN CRAIS.

CRAIS:

That was the scene in California's

Mojave Desert three years ago today

-- the historic first view of the

Newcomer ship upon its dramatic

arrival. As with the assassination

of John Kennedy, who among us does

not remember exactly where he was

that October nineteenth morning,

when news first broke: that people

have landed... from another star.

We PULL BACK from a large television set to reveal...

INT. A CROWDED BAR - LOS ANGELES - NIGHT

The Hollowpoint Lounge -- a cop bar.

The off-duty uniformed and plainclothes cops are mostly

ignoring the TV, except for two detectives, FEDORCHUK and

ALTEREZ, who are waiting for the ball scores.

FEDORCHUK:

I remember where I was -- pissing

off my balcony at the neighbor's

dog!

Others laugh.

ALTEREZ:

(yells at Crais on TV)

Get to the goddamn ball scores!

ON THE TV SCREEN, an on-location interview with a CAL-TECH

PROFESSOR comes up. Her name and title appear across the

bottom of the screen.

CAL-TECH PROFESSOR

From the time mankind first gazed up

at the stars there had been

speculation about a visit by people

from "out there." How ironic that

when that first contact was made,

the two hundred and sixty thousand

occupants aboard the craft were as

surprised as we were about their

arrival. That they awakened from

frozen hibernation to find their

malfunctioning autopilot had landed

them here by mistake.

The CNN reporter, Duncan Crais, appears again.

CRAIS:

These "Newcomers," we soon learned,

were a genetically-engineered race,

adapted for hard labor 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...

A dishwasher tray filled with beer glasses CUTS ACROSS

FRAME, and we PAN WITH IT as it is slammed down on the

countertop.

Now an interview with a FRESNO HOUSEWIFE standing outside

a supermarket comes on the TV SCREEN.

FRESNO HOUSEWIFE

When the Newcomers were first let

out of the ship, they were

quarantined in a camp not ten miles

from the town here. You can imagine

how the people around here felt

about that. But once they were

releases from the camp and we got a

chance to know them, we saw what

nice, quiet people they really are...

WIDER:

revealing a MASSIVE ALIEN FIGURE in a filthy white

busboy's uniform. His back is to us as he picks up two

trays from the counter. The bartender is dwarfed by this

Newcomer, but works around him without apparent concern.

Fedorchuk addresses the alien busboy.

FEDORCHUK:

Hey, Henry, how you doin' tonight?

Workin' hard?

The Newcomer turns -- his face is humanoid, but

disturbingly alien.

FEDORCHUK:

You got your green card, buddy? You

didn't leave home without it?

The cops at the bar crack up. Henry looks at Fedorchuk --

his eyes carrying no malice... or pain. He merely blinks.

CUT TO:

INT./ EXT. SLUG-MOBILE - STREET - NIGHT

An explosion of color and movement as OPENING TITLES PLAY

very quickly. We're TRAVELING the streets in a n.d.

sedan, getting MOVING GLIMPSES of the aliens living among

us now:

-- A coffee shop where aliens eat at some window tables.

-- A Newcomer leaving a night school with an armload of

books.

-- A city park where a number of alien families have

gathered to play some arcane alien game.

SYKES:

Jeez... they call that gang-bang a

game...?

-- A billboard for Pepsi featuring an alien.

-- The sedan has pulled to a stop at a red light.

Suddenly a hand thumps against the glass next to Sykes'

head... and alien hand. Sykes jumps. It's a NEWCOMER

DERELICT standing there, weaving, mumbling in his own

language. In one filthy hand holds a quart carton of

milk. We know immediately what he wants. Sykes rolls

down the window.

SYKES:

Take a hike.

Sykes gets a whiff of the derelict's breath as the light

changes and the sedan pulls away, leaving him in the

street. Sykes grimaces at the smell.

SYKES:

Why's it have to be sour milk that

these guys get wasted on? What the

hell's wrong with Jack Daniels, or

Thunderbird for chrissakes?

(beat; disgusted)

Slagtown. Sh*t...

-- Aliens hanging around outside their homes.

-- Alien hookers plying their trade.

SYKES:

Hope their plumbing's the same.

TUGGLE:

It is.

(and Sykes gives him

a look)

-- A Newcomer lowrider pulls up beside the slug-mobile.

-- An alien couple exit a theater playing "Terminator

III".

-- An alien wig shop.

ANGLE:

TITLES END, and we start to PULL BACK into the slug-mobile

and HEAR:

TUGGLE (O.S.)

So you gonna go, or you not gonna

go?

INT. SLUG-MOBILE - NIGHT

The dashboard is littered with fast-food detritus and two

coffees in styrofoam cups making fog circles on the

windshield. A hand picks up one of the coffees and we

FOLLOW IT to a face, a forty-year-old cop face that's seen

some wear and tear -- behind the wheel is MATT SYKES.

Beside him is his partner of nine years, BILL TUGGLE.

Tuggle expertly munches on a slice of pizza as he talks.

SYKES:

How can I go?

TUGGLE:

Put on your wash-and-wear suit and

your clip-on tie, have your landlady

tie your shoes for you, and show up

at the church. Simple.

(beat)

Me and Carol are going.

SYKES:

What?

TUGGLE:

Hey, look -- we've known Kristin

since... since she was conceived in

that cabin up in Big Bear.

Remember? You and Edie banged the

wall so hard, me and Carol were

picking plaster out of our hair for

a week...

SYKES:

Goddammit, Tug -- I want to see

Kristin get married, okay? But--

TUGGLE:

But you're bummed because your ex

and her new husband are paying for

the whole thing.

SYKES:

Sh*t, if Kristin had to get married

where I could afford it, we'd be

holding the reception at Buddy's

Burgers.

Sykes stares out the window, wallowing in his pissed-off

mood. Then he spots something that twinges his street-cop

radar.

SYKES:

Uh-oh... Check it out.

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