Alien vs. Predator Page #4

Tactical nukes, maybe?

Everybody gives him a quick look, but nobody says anything. It's obviously

not an appealing thought.

HIROKO:

Where're they headed?

CASSIE:

We ran a trajectory simulation. If they

carry on along that path, it's possible

they'll make intra-orbital insertion.

There's a great exhalation of breath, and everyone swaps significant glances.

HIROKO seems worried. She scratches her forehead.

HIROKO:

I don't know what to make of this. Get a

copy of the telemetry relayed back to

Antarctica Traffic Control. Better alert

the nearest RimCorp Base, too.

PARSONS nods, suddenly serious.

PARSONS:

Fort Powell. What do we tell 'em?

HIROKO:

Just give them the facts. They can leap

to their own conclusions.

EXT. LINSON'S RANGE - SWAMP - AFTERNOON

Down here in the swamp, the trunks of magnificent trees terminate in gnarled

roots and disappear into watery murk, much like a Louisiana bayou. A group

of attentive LEMUR-TYPE CREATURES suddenly bound for cover as a line of

bullets THUDS into the wood nearby. Seconds later, a loud HUMMING NOISE

intrudes O.S. and a pair of manta-ray-shaped hover-bikes with sleek lines and

garnish decals SLAMS into FRAME suspended two feet above the mire, their

powerful turbines kicking-up a swirl of spray. The two BIKERS skid to a

halt and watch the CREATURES scatter. ACKLAND and YORK - men who on Earth

might be called "good 'ol boys" - are both riding one-handed; powerful hi-

tech rifles gripped in the other.

YORK:

(yelling)

You missed 'em, Ackland!

ACKLAND:

Little f***ers move too fast. Let's do a

sweep and catch 'em on the other side.

YORK nods his head, pulling his goggles down over his eyes. The two bikes

ROAR off in pursuit.

EXT. LINSON'S RANGE - ENCAMPMENT - AFTERNOON

Up on a mud-bank, at the base of a sturdy gantry tower with two blinking blue

lights atop it, stands the camp. It looks a little like a Bedouin bivouac,

but up-close we can see the techno-fitted details. A hard-featured woman

seated next to a solid-fuel burner sips from a mug, while her Vietnamese

counterpart is manually loading large-caliber bullets into a belt-feed. They

watch as ACKLAND and YORK roar past WHOOPING. MINH scrambles out of the way

as a beer can lobbed by YORK CLATTERS to the ground near him.

MINH:

Crazy idiots.

BEAUVAIS cups her drink with both hands, assessing him.

BEAUVAIS:

Ahhh, they're just letting off some steam;

don't let 'em get to you. Ackland and York

aren't such bad guys when you get to know

'em. Just a couple of weekend warriors...

She peers curiously at the clunky cartridges MINH's thumbing into the belt

feed. On the ground next to him is a widebore weapon on an over-the-shoulder

guidance mechanism.

BEAUVAIS (CONT'D)

Nice howitzer you've got there.

MINH:

Thanks.

BEAUVAIS:

Good argument for gun-control. What are

you going after, rhino?

MINH:

Nah. I just wanna squeeze off a few

rounds. 'Sides, they tagged the rhinos

for the migration project, so they're

protected. They'll dock you a month's

pay for just _mentioning_ it.

He peers into the belt and blows out some dirt.

MINH (CONT'D)

Sure wish there was something on this

planet with a bit of fight in it, through.

EXT. DEEP SPACE

Against a sea of stars, a small metal shape HURTLES towards us, followed

moments later by it's identical twin.

EXT. RYUSHI STATION - BIG BERTHA - AFTERNOON

A strand of HIROKO's hair falls forward into her face, slick with rain. She

brushes up at the miserable weather. She and KAMEN are standing on one of

the twelve-feet-in-diameter wheels of the gargantuan haulage vehicle we saw

outside the base earlier. Up on the side of the cab is painted a Nordic

Valkyrie with an impressive bustline, next to which is the legend 'BIG

BERTHA'. Two mechanics, JAN GUTTIEREZ and KEVIN DILLER, watch KAMEN point

something out to HIROKO from the vantage point of KAMEN's crawler parked in

the swamp nearby.

KAMEN:

See that sheathing on the suspension?

Eaten away. Same thing with the pumps

on the base air purifiers. The algae

out here just isn't good on these new

plastics.

HIROKO:

We haven't used Big Bertha since we

relocated the generator module. That was

_four months ago_. I can't ask for them

to keep bringing spares in on the shuttle,

it's already costing too much as it is.

KAMEN shrugs.

KAMEN:

If you want these things kept in working

condition, that's the only choice you've

got.

DILLER leans in to murmur quietly to GUTTIEREZ.

DILLER:

Maybe she wouldn't be so tetchy if she

got laid every once-in-a-while.

GUTTIEREZ:

You offering?

A buzzer inside the crawler goes OFF. DILLER gets up to answer.

DILLER:

Nah. Freeze my dick off.

HIROKO shakes her head dubiously at KAMEN's comment.

HIROKO:

I don't know. I think we'll have to run

it on a rota; one month down, one month

operational.

DILLER leans out of the crawler's cab and calls across.

DILLER:

Miss Noguchi! You're wanted in admin.

HIROKO:

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