Alien vs. Predator Page #6

chin, staring off into a thin mist that makes the night impenetrable. Behind

and above, the lights of the cranes and the communications array strobe on-

and-off. Above the bar on the main street is a flicking neon sign erected

after-the-fact, emblazoned with the words "TORCHY'S". The MUFFLED SOUNDS of

MERRY-MAKING from within become momentarily louder, and HIROKO glances over

to see it's pressure-door CRASH back, disgorging several drunken people.

KAMEN follows them through. He spots HIROKO and heads over.

KAMEN:

Hey, boss. Wondered where you'd gotten

to.

HIROKO:

I just...wanted to be put on my own for a

while. Clear my head.

KAMEN:

Didn't feel like whoopin' it up with the

rest of us blue collars, huh?

She shakes her head, and manages a smile.

HIROKO:

I've got a lot of thinking to do. 'Sides,

the room was getting too crowded for me.

KAMEN:

Not too much of the socializing type, then?

HIROKO:

No, not really. More sort of the

'claustrophobic' type.

KAMEN LAUGHS. HIROKO is straight-faced.

HIROKO (CONT'D)

I'm serious. That's why I switched from

orbiting to planetary installations.

KAMEN:

Is that a fact.

HIROKO:

Uh-huh. Used to get it pretty bad. I'd

wake up in a cold sweat and want to claw

open a vacuum hatch.

KAMEN:

How long you been out here for now,

anyway? Three months?

HIROKO:

Four.

KAMEN:

And before that?

HIROKO:

Six month stint on Datus.

KAMEN:

Only six?

HIROKO:

What is this? 'Twenty Questions'?

KAMEN:

Just curious. There's a lot of talk

goes around.

HIROKO shrugs. Thinks about it.

HIROKO:

I don't know. I guess I've just never

found anywhere I really felt at home.

She hugs her knees again, and suddenly looks a whole lot more at ease. KAMEN

spots a square glass balanced on one of the tire's wide treads.

KAMEN:

What is that?

HIROKO:

Real man' drink.

She offers the glass to him. He takes it and sniff cautiously.

KAMEN:

Seltzer?

HIROKO:

Want some?

KAMEN hands the glass back and raises his own bottle.

KAMEN:

I'll stick with my own.

He sits with her and stares into the darkness.

HIROKO:

Any luck raising Ackland's party?

KAMEN:

Nothing. With the satellite down, we

can't transmit over the mountain range.

He's most likely sitting there wondering

why he can't raise _us_.

HIROKO:

First light, we'll take a chopper out there

and tell them to head back.

KAMEN:

'We'? You wanna fly out there with me?

HIROKO:

Sure. Do me good to stretch my legs.

HIROKO takes a sip of her drink, her brow furrowing.

HIROKO (CONT'D)

This whole thing's got me spooked.

KAMEN hops off the wheel.

KAMEN:

Don't worry about it. If the Network goes

by the book, like everyone figures they

will, a Marine gunboat from Powell'll

drop-by for a look-see in four-or-five

days. They can go poke around out there

and find whatever it was hit us. All we've

gotta do is sit tight.

HIROKO:

Do you think _Ackland'll_ sit tight?

KAMEN:

There'd have to be a helluva good reason

for him not to.

EXT. SPACE

A peculiar blue scanning beam plays over the rotating mass of the

incapacitated satellite, examining every section. it comes to the rent torn

through it, and pauses.

FROM THE SCANNER'S P.O.V., we see the structure of the satellite made up from

a series of blue geodesic shapes. The damage registers as a cold, black

mass.

The beam switches off and the hovering PREDATOR shuttle turns smoothly on

it's axis, thrusting towards the planet.

EXT. LINSON'S RANGE - IMPACT SITE - NIGHT

Shafts of torch-light fan out above the thick foliage in the darkness. YORK

and ACKLAND wade through the chin-high reeds, cursing.

ACKLAND:

Found anything?

YORK looks down at his data-stick, a handheld torch with a multi-purpose

readout screen.

YORK:

Nada. No radiation...no movement...

nothing.

ACKLAND:

Well, just keep looking. It's gotta be...

whoa, Jesus!

ACKLAND falls toward onto something, and YORK comes running.

YORK:

What is it?

ACKLAND steadies himself, and the two men shine their torches at the

rhythmically-breathing SHAPE on the ground.

ACKLAND:

It's a rhino.

YORK:

Is it dead?

ACKLAND:

No, it's still breathing. Kinda clammy

though. Are you sure your stick's not

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