ALIEN III screenplay by D.T. Twohy FIRST DRAFT October 1989 - - - FADE IN: 1 EXT. METEOROID SWARM - DEEP SPACE Meteoroids drift through space, silent and peaceful. Suddenly a shark in their midst: Attacking from behind, a ship collects smaller meteoroids in a jawlike scoop, swallowing them whole. 2 INT. MINING SHIP Inside, rotating teeth smash the meteors into rubble. Hoppers fill. Lasers scan the rubble for composition before conveyors trundle it away. The factory is crudely efficient, PREHISTORICALLY LOUD. Until... The teeth stop rotating... Conveyors seize up... Lasers die... 3 EXT. MINING SHIP And the jawlike scoop, hinged, begins closing. 4 INT. MINING SHIP With the LOUDEST CLANG EVER HEARD, the jaws clamp shut. ECHOES through empty corridors. Only then the ship is hauntingly quiet do we hear the first signs of human life: FOOTSTEPS. Greasy and agitated, the PROSPECTOR appears. He doesn't know why the machines have stopped, but he does know what's responsible. He stalks to a door... 5 INT. OPERATIONS - MINING SHIP ...and flat-hands it open. PROSPECTOR So what the hell is it now? Terminals flash the same message: AUTOMATIC SHUTDOWN P/24/97. POSSIBLE XENOMORPH DETECTION, HOPPER 6. PROSPECTOR "Xenomorph," huh? (stabbing reset button) Crush it. But the machinery won't reactivate. Screens continue to flash the message. The prospector storms out. 6 INT. HOPPER - MINING SHIP In the shadowy depths of a hopper, the prospector uses a lever to search through meteoroid rubble. Some of the rock is a vitreous, golden-hued. Amber. PROSPECTOR These fuckin' fossil-hunts... Then he spots it. Mostly buried in rubble. What little we can see reminds us of a tail. A dark, coiled tail. Scowling, the prospector reaches down. Pokes it. Feels it. Lifts it up to reveal... A piece of flexible conduit. PROSPECTOR (peering at ceiling) Fallin' apart. Whole ship's comin' apart at the welds. He searches on. Finally he abandons his lever for a chunk of amber. He hoists it up, trying for better light. We can't tell for sure -- but it looks like something is suspended inside the rock. 7 INT. OPERATIONS - MINING SHIP PROSPECTOR (to comm-panel) ...Company Mining Ship WYM/263, Sector 118-M, Quad 4, working the Borealis Claim. Filing report as required by section...section... He thumbs through a greasy manual but can't find the right reference. He flings it aside. PROSPECTOR (CONT'D) "Xenomorph" specimen detected and recovered. Currently suspended in organic resin-polymer compound, a.k.a. "amber," little or no fossilization. It you want it, come get it. He slaps a switch. "MESSAGE DISPATCHED" appears on the terminal, then "SHUTDOWN CANCELLED." All around, we hear the great MACHINERY POUNDING back to life. The prospector swivels to face the chunk of rock. Now backlit, we see that inside -- suspended in a coffin of golden glass -- is a face- hugger. A protean Alien. PROSPECTOR So tell me. Why would such a big company like this be interested in such a little shit like you? Huh? He taps the rock. No movement inside. He draws closer, trying to discern more detail. And just when we expect the face-hugger to shatter out and grab the prospector's face... Something grabs his shoulder. ASSISTANT What's goin' on? PROSPECTOR (shaking off hand) Same ol' ratshit. Go back to sleep. Your shift don't start for three hours yet. 8 EXT. MINING SHIP - METEOROID FIELD The jaws reopen. As it returns to chasing meteoroids, the ship passes close to VIEW. We get a good look at the corporate logo of "Weylan- Yutani" before we... FADE OUT "THREE YEARS LATER" FADE IN: 9 EXT. EARTH - PRE-DAWN Dark Earth. The lights of a rampant civilization craze the landmasses. Soon an orbit-to-orbit transport appears. It angles toward a glowing horizon. 10 INT. CABIN - TRANSPORT SHIP Passengers sit in the dim interior, portholes their only luxury. Some peer out to see... 11 EXT. SPACE STATION - PRE-DAWN Something huge ahead. Whatever it is, it blots out the starfield behind it. 12 INT. CABIN - TRANSPORT SHIP More passengers strain to see. 13 EXT. SPACE STATION - DAWN Now the sun rises behind Earth, illuminating the rind of atmosphere and then... The space station. Iron black, spired, cathedralesque, designed by Eiffel and then hand-sculpted by Rodin. It looms in geosynchronous orbit 23,000 miles above Earth -- a smirch of Hell right where Heaven should be. 14 INT. CABIN - TRANSPORT SHIP Reaction passengers: They've never seen it this close. Nor did they want to. 15 EXT. SPACE STATION - DAWN The transport reaches a blockade of red-flashing buoys. 16 INT. COCKPIT - TRANSPORT SHIP PILOT #1 (into headset) Moloch Island, this is MDT/67 out of Gateway Station. Bearing 1-2-Fiver on equatorial approach. Requesting clearance to dock. PILOT #1 waits, eyeing the station through her canopy. The central spire spews burned gas into space. PILOT #1 Again, this is MDT/67 out of Gateway. Still awaiting docking clearance. 17 EXT. SPACE - STATION - DAWN As if to answer, the buoys turn a provisional yellow. Positioning rockets fire. The buoys rearrange to form a landing corridor. 18 INT. COCKPIT - TRANSPORT SHIP As the pilot gooses her throttle. 19 INT. MAIN CABIN - TRANSPORT SHIP As yellow buoys drift past portholes. 20 EXT. DOCKING PORT - SPACE STATION - DAWN As the transport slews into a broadside approach. 21 INT. MAIN CABIN - TRANSPORT SHIP CLANGS and WHINES of docking. At the front of the cabin, an ICC MARSHALL rises, brandishing a weapon. MARSHALL Everybody up. The passengers CLATTER to their feet. Only now do we see their chains. 22 INT. ADMISSION AREA CLOSE on a hand pressing down on a scan-plate. U.V. light passes beneath the hand. SCAN VOICE Russo, Susan Lee. F23837. Murder, Second Degree. 20-Year sentence. The hand turns over. The wrist area has been branded with an I.D. number. A pigment burn. CAPTAIN (O.S.) Maintenance duty. WIDER. We're inside the station. The first five prisoners are hooked together and led away. The next prisoner in line shuffles forward to place his hand on the scanner. SCAN VOICE Van Brunt, Carl Henrik. M23838. Manslaughter, 49 counts. 49-year sentence. VAN BRUNT. Scandinavian. Forty. He moves aside for the next prisoner. SCAN VOICE Kiryu, Cheryl. F23839. Possession of Firebomb, Incitement to Riot, Corporate Terrorism. Life sentence, no possibility of parole. KIRYU. Amerasian. Thirty. Next prisoner up. SCAN VOICE Grimes, Howard Stumbo. M23840. Bigamy, Spousal Rape, Rape with Foreign Object, Attempted Murder. Aggregate 32-year sentence. Piqued, the guard CAPTAIN looks up from his terminal. GRIMES gives him a shit-for-brains grin. CAPTAIN What was the foreign object? GRIMES My dick. It's so big, they didn't believe it was real. Block guards jerk him away. GRIMES Hey, it's true. They booked me two seats just to get up here. SCAN VOICE Domingo, Gustava Gomez Jesus Incantada. Prisoners lean out of line to look at DOMINGO. Latin. Tenty years old. Wears his anger like a coat. SCAN VOICE (CONT'D) M23841. Murder, First Degree, four counts. Death sentence on each count. Prisoners APPLAUD the big deal of the day. Domingo wants to piss on them all. Now STYLES moves up. He's about to put his hand on the scanner when... CAPTAIN Styles, Scott Taylor. Fraud, 10-year sentence. Additional five years for escape, Terre Haute. Additional eight years for escape, Terminal Island. (looking up) You know, son, I just get the feeling you're gonna give us snags. STYLES Oh, no sir. I've learned my lesson. Well, "lessons." CAPTAIN Foundry. Guards chain the five inmates together. CAPTAIN Oh, and Daggs? (indicating Styles) Full shackles outside the block. Line of sight at all times. Nodding, the guard named DAGGS turns his eyes on Styles. Styles looks back resignedly. "Gonna be one of those years." 23 INT. CORRIDOR OUTSIDE FOUNDRY Caged elevator cars transport personnel between levels, comparable "equavator" cars transport them laterally along curved corridors. Now in coveralls, the five new inmates appear. BLOCK GUARD leads. Daggs shadows. BLOCK GUARD ...touch a guard, you get stitched. Fail to respond promptly to a guard's order, any guard -- block, solitary, special services -- you get stitched. Pilfer supplies, you get stitched... GRIMES (to Styles) "Stitched"? STYLES Don't ask. GRIMES (to Daggs) What's "stitched"? A wicked CHITTERING SOUND: Grimes ducks as the wall beside him explodes with crisscrossing lines. When the sound stops, hundreds of small-bore needles have embedded the wall. BLOCK GUARD (recycling stitch rifle) Any other questions? None. The guard moves to a massive steel door and slaps an open-relay. BLOCK GUARD Then let's get busy. So far, the station has impressed us as sterile and efficient. But when the overhead DOOR RUMBLES open, we see... Blasting furnaces. Rippling heat. Rising steam. This is the central spire, where space-mined ore is processed into steel. The NOISE is like a hundred train wrecks, and if Hell had nightmares, this would surely be one. 24 INT. FOUNDRY Prisoners everywhere, stoking furnaces, lifting rock, oiling conveyors, channeling rivers of glowing metal. ROAMING, the VIEW FINDS Styles and Van Brunt. They rake limestone over screens, sifting out impurities. The dust gets in their eyes, nose, mouths. Between coughs: VAN BRUNT ...G-class freighter. Made fueling runs between the M-class tankers and smaller ships. STYLES Pilot? VAN BRUNT Helmsman. Or I was, until a docking went bad. Came in hot. Took out the better part of two ships. 49 dead. STYLES Never make pilot that way. Wasn't equipment failure? VAN BRUNT Hard to say. So drunk at the time, don't remember much. STYLES Forty-nine years... VAN BRUNT You? Twenty years or something? VOICE It's all the same. They look. The voice came from a prisoner raking with his back to VIEW. VAN BRUNT Say something? The prisoner turns -- and startles us. His skin, his hair, even his eyes have turned an IVORY white from years of working the limestone. IVORY All sentences are the same. All. 25 INT. MACHINE SHOP - FOUNDRY A glassed-off machine shop. Pipe, wire, small castings are being made. Workers are stacking a pallet with heavy pipe -- and stacking it too high. The first pipe falls, starting an avalanche that CLATTERS toward... Kiryu. She sees it coming but freezes up. At the last second, hands jerk her away. The pipes smash to a stop. It's Domingo. He probably just saved Kiryu's life -- but without thanking him, she pulls free and goes back to work. 26 INT. FOUNDRY A white-hot ingot, circular and massive, is dropped into a quenching tank. Steam blasts upward, drawing the attention of... Grimes. He works near the blast furnaces, shoveling up warm slag like a stable boy mucking stalls. The cooled ingot is craned out of the quenching tank and dropped in top-loading centrifuge. Airlock doors close. The centrifuge begins to rotate. Grimes follows other workers to observation windows that overlook Earth. 27 EXT. BOTTOM OF SPACE STATION - DAY Building speed, the centrifuge lowers from the station. 28 INT. FOUNDRY A DETONATION rocks the foundry as... 29 EXT. BOTTOM OF SPACE STATION - DAY The ingot is discharged. Twenty tons of spinning steel streaks toward Earth. 30 INT. FOUNDRY GRIMES Holy... Where's it gonna hit? WORKER South China Sea. Ship picks it up. Right angle, they only lose about 15 percent in the atmosphere. Workers disperse. Grimes loiters, watching the ingot vanish. GRIMES Love to scream one of those fuckers down on the ex-wife's apartment... The barrel of a stitch rifle flicks his ear. The guard motions Grimes back to work. 31 EXT. SPACE STATION - NIGHT Burned gasses continue to belch from the central spire, blackening a full moon. 32 INT. FOUNDRY CLOSE on a small machine spitting out coins. They're crude and dark, made of slag. But the logo is familiar. "Weylan-Yutani." End-of-shift prisoners shuffle forward in line like the living dead, faces blackened and haggard. Guards pay the workers with newly minted coins. Styles is getting patted down by Daggs when... AMPLIFIED VOICE Prisoner M22197. Step out. Prisoner M22197. Step out. Prisoners look. No one steps forward. AMPLIFIED VOICE Second chance. Prisoner M22197. Step out. Prisoner M221-- Suddenly one man bolts, running blindly. Guards level tangle guns, stubby and twin-barrelled. MULTIPLE DISCHARGES. Bolo balls sling through the air... And catch the man, orbiting him, cocooning him in steel filament. He crashes to the floor ten steps from where he started his run. The prisoner is Ivory. STYLES What's he volunteering for? DAGGS Been here a long time. Could be his appeals finally crapped out. Funny how they run like that. (for Styles' sake) Like someone could actually get off this rock, huh? 33 INT. SECURITY CORRIDOR Again chained together, the five new inmates drag-ass along a corridor. They carry bedrolls. The block guard keys open a security door and ushers them into... 34 INT. GUARD HOUSE A circular control room. The walls are solid glass -- but, oddly, they look out on nothing but solid wall. BLOCK GUARD Goin' my way? CONTROL GUARD (running switches) Down it is. The guard house begins dropping -- and now the windows fill with the rising cell block. It's a staggering sight: We're in the middle of an immense cylinder, cells ringing the perimeter, inmates roaming like lost animals. Tier after tier rise past the windowed walls -- and it's all the same. DOMINGO Fuckin' Mother of God... Finally the guard house stops. Security door opens. The block guard unchains the inmates -- then backs off. This is as far as he goes. STYLES Which cell? BLOCK GUARD Any one you can find. 35 INT. MIDDLE TIER - CELL BLOCK The new inmates step onto a walkway. The door locks behind them. Kiryu peers down the foot-wide crack between walkway and guard house. HER POV: The bottom of the cell block lost in shadow. How many more tiers can there be? GRIMES I think there's been a mistake. VAN BRUNT What, you're not really guilty? GRIMES Oh, I'm guilty. Just not this guilty. The new inmates push ahead. THEIR POV: An inmate brushing his teeth in a toilet. Graffiti-scarred walls. A gang of females rousting a male inmate. A jogger using the circular walkway for a lap track. At least three inmates per cell. No open bunks. Two JOY BOYS in codpieces pass. They touch Domingo seductively. He bats their hands away. They laugh and blow kisses. THEIR POV: Blacks in shower caps playing dominoes. Inmates with bio- electric tattoos. A narcotized guy trying to peel the walls. A man and woman pulling a stand-up fuck. Inmates watching baseball on a caged monitor. ANNOUNCER (V.O.) ...so far this year, the Yanks are 13 and 12, three of those victories big ones coming on the road against Tokyo, Nagoya, and Osaka. And Tuesday night's game with the Hitachi Indians looms as a pivotal one... New inmates Stop. They've circled the entire tier and haven't found an open cell. VOICE No luck, huh? They look. The voice belongs to BELLHOP, an ingratiating maggot of a man. BELLHOP Vacancies are hard to come by in this hotel. STYLES But I bet you know where some are. BELLHOP Several. Happy to take you there. For two slags. DOMINGO Hey. Dickwipe. Fuck you, awright? I just spent maybe twelve hours cuttin' hot pipe, and for that they pay me five coins. Now you want two? Fuck you dead, man. From both ends. But Styles flips Bellhop a coin. STYLES Show us. (to Domingo) My throw. 36 INT. STAIRCASES - CELL BLOCK Zig-zagging, Bellhop leads the new inmates down through the cell block. They pass tier after tier. BELLHOP ...little Wild Eye, Hash Mash, smokes with six percent real tobacco -- you just let me know. Watch this step here, bit loose. Comin' up on lockdown -- I strongly urge that you not be caught outside your cell. Right this way, not much further now... GRIMES Much lower, man, we're gonna drop out the ass-end of this thing. 37 INT. BOTTOM TIER - CELL BLOCK They reach the bottom. This is it. Dungeon-level. BELLHOP And here we are. First Floor. New inmates look around. Several cells are free. DOMINGO So what the shit's wrong with it? BELLHOP Pardon? DOMINGO How come rest ot the place is full, but this isn't? How come? BELLHOP Well, it's closer to the gravity generators, so you're a couple pounds heavier, little more sluggish. And the light isn't what it should be. That's all. They inspect the cells. Bunks have springs. Grimes kick- starts a toilet. It actually flushes. STYLES (to Bellhop) That's all, huh? BELLHOP They're nice rooms. Really. Can't do better than these. Styles flips him the second coin. Not wasting any time, Bellhop heads back to the stairs. DOMINGO Rats. Got big fuckin' rats down here, doncha? BELLHOP (oddly) Oh, no. You'll have no problems with rats. He's gone. Styles and Van Brunt settle into the first cell. Grimes takes the second, Domingo the third. Kiryu is left to choose between bunking with the rapist Grimes or killer Domingo. She chooses Domingo. GRIMES Thanks, cunt. 38 INT. STYLES' CELL Styles is taking a sink-bath, trying to wash away the limestone and the whole day. PIPES KNOCK, and the faucet sputters dry. He wasn't close to finishing. 39 INT. BOTTOM TIER - CELL BLOCK Air-drying, Styles walks the tier with Van Brunt. Other inmates here seem to be the runts and whack-outs of the prison: The HIKER, a paraplegic who walks only with the aid of a motorized backpack that "walks" his legs for him... A man thin enough to be a human X-RAY... The GASHER, a self-mutilating woman who notches her skin with a shank... STYLES Quite a neighborhood. And the ABORIGINE, a dreadlocker who paints his cell wall with primitive drawings. The drawings seem to be of an animal. But before Styles can get a closer look... BLOCK VOICE Lockdown. 30 seconds to lockdown. 40 INT. CELL BLOCK SELECTED SHOTS of inmates grabbing belongings and moving for stairs and cells. BLOCK VOICE Lockdown. 20 seconds to lockdown. 41 INT. STYLES' CELL BLOCK VOICE Lockdown. 10 seconds to lockdown. Styles and Van Brunt crab-step inside just as the door closes. Around the cell block, we hear DOORS THUNDERING SHUT. BLOCK VOICE Lockdown complete. 42 INT. CELL BLOCK A WHISTLE sounds. Entry doors open, and unleashed guard dogs stream into the block. Searching tor loose inmates, the dogs race around the tiers... ...zig-zag down stairs... ...flood the lower tiers... 43 INT. GRIMES' CELL ...and appear here. One dog stops at Grimes' cell. It almost looks friendly. GRIMES Hey, dog. It lunges, slamming into the bars and nearly taking out Grimes' throat. GRIMES Shit. Lassie get the fuck home, huh? Get the hell outta here. 44 INT. CELL BLOCK Circling like a glass carousel, the guard house rises, pushed upward by one massive steel piston. Soon it vanishes, embedded in the ceiling. 45 INT. CELL BLOCK As all lights extinguish. 46 INT. DOMINGO'S CELL Later. Domingo wakes. The bunk is rocking. "What the hell?" Small MOANS and GASPS from beneath him -- from Kiryu. Domingo grins, taking the sounds for autoerotic. Figuring he can be of assistance, he eases off his bunk. And finds sharp metal thrust under his chin. Kiryu holds a bed strut, worked free of the bunk. That's what she was doing. DOMINGO Just thought maybe you was -- KIRYU I know what you were thinking. Now get away before I bury this in your worthless pygmy brain. He backs off -- then snatches the shank away. For a beat Domingo just stares, and the only question is whether he'll rape her before or after he cuts open her throat. But then Domingo eases back onto his bunk and lies down. 47 INT. STYLES' CELL Glow-worms dot the ceiling like stars. One falls... ...and lands on Styles. He brushes it away and tries to get back to sleep but can't: The night sounds of the prison -- SOBBING, FLUSHING TOILETS, BARKING DOGS -- fill his ears. He rolls away from VIEW. But a new SOUND rolls him back. This doesn't come from above like the other sounds. This seems to come from... The tier walkway. Empty. Quiet. Styles is at the bars, looking out. Was it just the dog? Hearing nothing now, he starts back to his bunk. But the SOUND returns. STYLES' POV: Through the walkway grating, we see the machinery level below, a jungle of conduit and hydraulics. It's from there that the SLIDING-CLAWING sound comes. Styles tracks the sound with his eyes. It passes under the walkway... moves toward his cell...and stops dead under his feet. Now something SCRATCHES, as if trying to penetrate the solid floor. For a small eternity, Styles doesn't move. Then the sound SLIDE-CLAWS away. Breathing again, Styles looks out the bars to see... Someone watching him from another cell. It's the X-Ray man. 48 EXT. SPACE STATION - DAWN Sunrise. 49 INT. SOLITARY WARD A single-cell door is opened. From inside the dark room, a lonely white face looks out. 50 INT. GAS CHAMBER Guards shove Ivory into a primitive throne-like chair. Pull straps. Cinch buckles. Through a window Ivory can see... The faces of the witnesses. 51 INT. CELL BLOCK A pitiless light floods the block. It's met with a CHORUS OF GROANS. 52 INT. GRIMES' CELL GRIMES (waking thickly) Ten minutes. They turned off the lights ten minutes ago... 53 INT. STYLES' CELL Styles and Van Brunt rise. VAN BRUNT Stiff every place but where it counts. 54 INT. DOMINGO'S CELL Kiryu dresses. Domingo stays in his bunk. DOMINGO Fuck them. I ain't goin' back to that psycho shitpile. What're they gonna do? Not pay me? Huh? Fuck 'em. Fuck 'em dead. A caged monitor flickers to life. On the screen we see Ivory, strapped down in the chair. 55 INT. CELL BLOCK As the image appears on screens everywhere. 56 INT. STYLES' CELL As Styles moves closer to a monitor, recognizing the man. 57 INT. GAS CHAMBER As a black hood is dragged over Ivory's head. 58 INT. OUTSIDE GAS CHAMBER As guards double-check machinery. 59 INT. CELL BLOCK As the entire block grows quiet, watching. 60 INT. SECURITY CORRIDOR The female WARDEN appears with captain of the guards, striding quickly toward the chamber. She pushes through a door... 61 INT. WITNESS ROOM ...and takes her place at the viewing glass. She barely glances at the hooded inmate before nodding approval O.S. We get the feeling she's done this before. 62 INT. OUTSIDE GAS CHAMBER Where a lever is pulled. 63 INT. GAS CHAMBER CLOSE on a bag of crystals dropping into an acid bath beneath the chair. Gas roils upward... Enveloping Ivory. We know what's happening under the hood: He's holding his breath. Squirming. Working the good air up and down his throat, trying to make it last. 64 INT. WITNESS ROOM As the warden drums her fingers. 65 INT. CELL BLOCK As the new inmates watch. 66 INT. GAS CHAMBER Finally Ivory inhales. Screams as the gas burns his throat. Goes into hypoxiac spasms. And dies quickly but badly. 67 INT. DOMINGO'S CELL Domingo stares open-mouthed as the monitor flickers out. SCATTERED APPLAUSE from some sick fucks around the block. From the next cell: GRIMES Uh, just out of curiosity, Domingo ...how many appeals you got left? Domingo jumps off the bunk, grabs his pants. DOMINGO What're we doin'? Let's go, let's go. Hey, open these fuckin' doors, huh? Let's get busy. 68 INT. BUNKER CLOSE on Ivory's hooded head, unmoving and lifeless. Suddenly he draws a jagged breath. He rips off the hood. Though his mind is still dying in the gas chamber, his body, he now discovers, is somewhere else. "Where's the window? The faces?" He finds himself in a chair -- this one without straps. He's inside what appears to be a small outpost bunker. No windows. Inactive monitors. Pre-form construction. "I'm dead, I'm dead, I gotta be dead..." He stands experimentally. Moves. Runs a hand over equipment. A monitor activates. It shows an external view: The outside terrain is rocky and windswept. "What planet is this? And how the hell did I get here?" He finds cots for other personnel -- but there are no others. Just him. Movement on the monitor. Did he just imagine it? He stares until it happens again: Something slides past the exterior camera, momentarily filling the frame with darkness. Skeletal darkness. A SCRATCHING SOUND turns Ivory. He tracks the sound to a seam in the wall panels. He touches the spot -- and can feel the thing outside, the thing barely an inch away, the thing that explores the seam with him. WHUMP. Ivory stumble-steps back. WHUMP. The seam cracks. WHUMP. Ivory looks around for a weapon, shield, anything. WHUMP. The Alien is inside. 69 INT. BUNKER MOCK-UP FACILITY - P-4 LAB Now we see the bunker from the outside -- and see the backdrops, the wind machines, the halt-environment. It's all fake. All but the SCREAMING. 70 INT. CONTROL ROOM - P-4 LAB CLOSE on a monitor. We're watching images from a hidden camera -- jumpy, hard-to-track images of Ivory's death. By whipping tail. By rending arms. By striking jaws. Just who watches these images and where they're being seen -- none of it matters yet. All we know is that this one prisoner has now died twice. 71 EXT. SPACE STATION - DAY As a steel ingot is blasted toward Earth. 72 INT. FOUNDRY Feeding time: The new inmates file past a portable mess station, taking food. A thick, nutrient-stuffed sausage is plopped down on Grimes' plate. GRIMES Now we know why the crappers weren't clogged up. DOMINGO I gotta question. When we die, do we come right back here? KIRYU We're already dead. Just don't know it yet. VAN BRUNT She walks, she talks. GRIMES But will she do our cocks? DOMINGO Hey, toadshit. You gotta say the first thing that comes to your mouth? Leaving them behind, Styles looks for a place to sit. He spots... X-Ray. The man sits alone on the floor, sipping water. There's a tray of food beside him. Untouched. STYLES So how'd you sleep last night? X-RAY Same as every night. STYLES Lousy? Or not at all? No reaction. Styles sits. STYLES Heard some craziness last night. You hear any craziness? X-RAY You're strong. You should move up. I tried, once, but they hit me and made me go back to the bottom. (indicating tray) You want it? STYLES Looks like you need it more. X-RAY Water. That's all for me. Water's the only way. STYLES You don't eat? At all?... X-RAY Can't. I can but I can't. STYLES You'll starve if you don't eat. Do you know this? X-RAY But I'll die if I do. KLAXON HORN recall prisoners. With doubts about X-Ray's sanity, Styles tries one more time. STYLES What're you saying? Something's wrong with the food? X-RAY (conspiratorially) It won't take me. Next time it comes, won't want me. Too thin. It'll take someone else. Styles ponders it. Until he gets kicked in the back. DAGGS Feedin' time's over. 73 EXT. SPACE STATION - DAY A company mining ship is docked at the central spire, off-loading cargo. 74 INT. FOUNDRY Docking officers patrol a platform near the top of the foundry. The mining ship is visible through a viewport. Personel move in and out via an airlock. Beneath the platform, raw ore spills down chutes... ...drops through SUB-CRUSHERS... ...then gets hauled across conveyored ore-bridges to be dumped into stockpiles. Styles is among the prisoners who work the bridges, shoveling spilled rock off the catwalks and back onto conveyors. The ore seems endless, and more and more of it falls onto the prisoners' feet. It aggravates Styles but he figures someone will slow it down. No one does. Soon the ore is spilling off the catwalks and hailing down on the main floor. Workers take cover. At the end or the bridge, ore swamps the catwalk. It forms a moving rampart that pushes one frantic worker off the edge... ...and into the stockpile. SHOUTED VOICES. In moments he'll be buried alive. Fed up with the madness, Styles rears back and buries his shovel deep into the conveyor system. Bridges stop. Crushers die. Chutes go empty. CLOSEUPS of guards turning to look. Though he only meant to stop the one bridge, Styles has managed to shut down the entire off-load. The foundry is quieter than we thought possible. Suddenly someone is marching toward Styles. It's a guard, a MASTODON of a man. The catwalk rocks under his weight. STYLES Too much ore...it was coming too fast...had to do something before -- Hands grab him by the head and jerk him off his feet. MASTODON No one. Hear me? No one shuts down the foundry. He slams Styles back -- right into a stanchion bracket. Styles just hangs there, impaled, graying out into unconsciousness. 75 INT. TELESURGERY BERTH - INFIRMARY CLOSE on a surgical instrument, plunking into a pan of disinfectant and spreading blood. VIEW MOVES past a tray or fresh instruments... surgical draping...to equipment that monitors vital signs. SURGEON'S VOICE Lung's holding air. WOMAN'S VOICE Muscle reweave looks good, too. Bio-readouts change. WOMAN'S VOICE He's coming around. You want more NumbOut? SURGEON'S VOICE That's okay. Almost done here. The patient is Styles, blinking awake. His mind gathers speed. STYLES How bad? SURGEON'S VOICE Hmm? Oh, we've seen a lot worse. Aren't feeling this, are you? STYLES Huh-uh. Not a thing. Must be doin' a pretty good job of... Styles lifts his head to look at the surgeon -- and sees twin robotic arms. They're doing the surgery. He lurches up. Human hands shove him down. WOMAN'S VOICE Try that again, and we'll start all over -- without the anesthetic. Now we see the ITV (interactive television) system. One screen shows the Earth-based surgeon, who wears a camera-helmet and electronic gloves. His surgical moves are being mimicked here by the robotic arms. STYLES Oh, for shit's sake... On the ITV screen, we see the surgeon picking up closure clamps... And then we see the robotic hands using identical clamps to close the incision. SURGEON Closed... On the ITV screen, the surgeon selects an aerosol canister... And then the robot sprays the surgical site with quick-dry fluid. Clamps are removed. The incision holds perfectly. SURGEON (CONT'D) ...and sutured. The surgeon ungloves. The robotic arms go limp. SURGEON Gotta run, Packard -- they're waiting for me on the front nine. Credit my account? WOMAN'S VOICE Done. The woman's voice belongs to PACKARD. She strips away surgical draping, tosses Styles fresh coveralls, scribbles on a clipboard. Styles doesn't move. PACKARD We don't give lollipops. STYLES Maybe I should just lie here. Couple hours. PACKARD Isn't necessary. That aerosol skin holds better than scar tissue. (over shoulder) Guard? STYLES Hey, doc. Feel like I been chewed up by a wolf and shit over a cliff, okay? Little slack might be in order. PACKARD One: I'm a diagnostic physiologist, not a "doc." We don't have "docs" here. They wouldn't be caught dead in a place like this even if the money was decent, which it isn't. Two: I can't afford the time or space. She throws back curtains to reveal the infirmary. Daggs can be seen bird-dogging one of the female med-techs. PACKARD Guard? Got a throw-back. Writing it up now. DAGGS (staying put) Comin'. Packard leaves FRAME. HOLD on Styles easing to his feet and dressing, using the time to check out the infirmary. It's cramped and crowded, the med-techs over-worked and underpaid. But to Styles, it looks like Nirvana. Now he assesses Packard, spotting her inside a glass office. Not as old as he first thought. Not as tough as she thinks. And not at all hard on the eyes. 76 INT. PACKARD'S OFFICE - INFIRMARY Packard sorts through a blizzard of paper-work, searching for... PACKARD Transfer forms... STYLES Mean these? He's in the office, holding the forms. Packard gives him a wary look, then accepts the forms without comment. Now she pats around for a pen. Styles finds one behind her ear. Another look. Going with the charming-bastard approach: STYLES I know what you're thinking. "How did I ever get along without this guy?" PACKARD Try again. STYLES "This guy could be a big help around here. I should get him reassigned." PACKARD What's the scam here? Just tell me up front, and we'll both save time. STYLES No scam. Just occurred to me out there that you could use another grunt and I could use another job. PACKARD We used to use prisoners. They stole everything but the ceiling. STYLES Gimme a throw. I'm a handy guy. PACKARD That's the problem. Daggs enters. He gives Styles a world-class scowl. DAGGS She tell you to come in here? STYLES (to Packard) Last chance to dance. Packard gives him a final appraisal. Then to Daggs: PACKARD Get this asshole out of here. 77 INT. INFIRMARY Leg-irons clamp around ankles. TILT UP as Daggs, finished chaining Styles, pulls him toward the door. A CRASH turns them back. MED-TECH #1 dropped a rack of vials. He starts to clean up the mess, but someone lifts him to his feet. Packard. MED-TECH #1 Sorry. Just slipped. She checks his eyes. His pupils look like olives. PACKARD You're gone. MED-TECH #1 Whaddya mean? PACKARD Transferred. Hydroponics, custodial, anywhere but here. Daggs heads for the door. It's not their problem. MED-TECH #1 Hey, look, it was just an accident, okay. Coulda happened to -- PACKARD You're glassed out. You been in the drugs. Christ, I don't believe you people. You're no better than the... (a new thought) Guard. Daggs turns. PACKARD Unhook him. I'll put him to work here. DAGGS Who? Him? He swaps looks with Styles. They're equally surprised. DAGGS Don't think the captain's gonna go for it. This guy's -- PACKARD I'll square it with the captain. You just unhook him. (to med-tech) At least I know I can't trust the prisoners. She moves to Styles. PACKARD All right, you want a new job? You got one. 78 INT. INFIRMARY At a work-station, Styles is doing a biopsy on a dark pasty substance. He views it under a magnifier. STYLES' POV: of a wormlike parasite. On a chart, Styles checks "positive" under the heading "Kennel B, Dog #12." With a resigned sigh, he disposes of the first stool sample and unwraps another. MED-TECH #2 (O.S.) Hey, hey, lookit here... Styles turns. Med-tech #2 is at a monitor, which shows an external view of the station. A ship is at the docking port. MED-TECH #2 Water tanker's in. MED-TECH #3 'Bout time. REED (O.S.) Showers on me, bartender. All the way around. Carrying a sealed package, REED enters. He's young, bookishly handsome, fancies himself a cocksmith. PACKARD (eyeing package) For me? REED Hand-delivered, please note. Packard opens the package. Medicine. REED Pullin' a late one tonight? PACKARD Out of here as soon as I inventory this stuff. REED Why not stop by? You can fix us dinner. PACKARD Try Hockmeyer. She's young and easily impressed. Might even know how to cook. REED Tellin' me you don't know the way to a man's heart, Packard? PACKARD Through his veins, last I looked. She inventories. Reed wanders the infirmary, checking things out. He comes to a stop behind Styles. REED Are you doing what I think you're doing? PACKARD Ten grams of Indapamide? I ordered fifty. And where's my Cloxacillin? REED Had a problem with the fermentation tanks. PACKARD Tell me something, Reed. Why is it, if we have an on-site pharmaceutical lab, that I have to beg for medicine? I mean, just out of idle curiosity. REED (to Styles) Least she's beggin' for something. He slaps Styles on the back -- right on the surgical site. REED Make it up to you next week, Packard. One way or another. He leaves. Packard shakes her head. PACKARD This place... 79 INT. CORRIDOR OUTSIDE P-4 LAB Back in chains, Styles is being transported by Daggs. Packard walks in the same direction, scanning paperwork. STYLES So how'd you wind up with this job? If you're not a doctor? PACKARD I applied for sewer superintendent, but all the openings were taken. (tired of reading) How's the back? STYLES Okay. 'Til whats-his-nuts showed up. PACKARD Reed? STYLES Friend of yours? PACKARD Biochemist. Brilliant guy, really. Just kind of a sleaze. (nodding ahead) Works in the P-4 lab. They near the lab. A P-4 technician appears, placing a hand on a wall- mounted scanner. The door opens. It's the thickness of a bank vault. STYLES Serious door. Passing, Styles slows to get a look inside. Daggs jerks him away like a dog on a leash. 80 INT. EQUAVATOR STOP - CORRIDOR PACKARD I'll file the paperwork. You might not get paid for the first few days. But eventually. An equavator arrives. Packard steps aboard. The caged car begins drawing away. STYLES Hey. Thanks. She looks back but doesn't answer. In a moment the car is gone. STYLES So. Think she likes me? DAGGS She wouldn't piss on the best part of you. 81 INT. CELL BLOCK In lockdown lighting. 82 INT. ABORIGINE'S CELL The Aborigine paints his wall in the dark. 83 INT. X-RAY'S CELL X-Ray finishes a cup of water. 84 INT. HIKER'S CELL The Hiker removes his motorized backpack for the night. 85 INT. DOMINGO'S CELL Domingo climbs onto the upper bunk. He tosses a moment, thinking about the woman below him. DOMINGO Hey. No answer. Domingo leans over the side. DOMINGO Hey. Kiryu looks up. DOMINGO Good night. She gives him a look. "That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard a human being say." Domingo gives up and lies back down. A long beat, and then: KIRYU (begrudgingly) 'Night. 86 INT. BOTTOM TIER The tier dog lies on the walkway, resting but not asleep. Soon its head lifts, hearing something. It's a faint SCRAPING-CLAWING. Beneath the walkway grating lies the jungle of conduit. Like a living shadow, something down there moves. Hackles rising, the dog turns and skulks up the stairs. It wants no part of this. 87 INT. HIKER'S CELL Hiker wakes suddenly -- and doesn't know why. He rolls over to see... A hole in the cell floor. Pried open at a seam. Silently, Hiker detaches a metal rod from his backpack. Now he finds a mirror and leans out of the bunk to angle the mirror over the hole. He sees... Inside the hole. There's only blackness. Hiker slithers off the lower bunk and drags himself closer. 88 INT. MACHINERY LEVEL The VIEW PEERS UP through the hole as Hiker peers down. And only now do we see the thing behing him -- the dark coiled mass that clings spiderlike to a ceiling corner. 89 INT. HIKER'S CELL A tail whips through the air, noosing around his neck. Hiker gurgles a scream as the tail rears him back... And body-slams him into the ceiling. 90 INT. X-RAY'S CELL Fluids spatter X-Ray's face. He wakes to see in the next cell... 91 INT. HIKER'S CELL Hiker's body splashing against the ceiling. 92 INT. STYLES' CELL A CRY. Styles is on his feet, moving to the bars, looking out. Can't see much in the dark. Just movement. Fast, horrid, lethal. 93 INT. CELL BLOCK In QUICK PUMMELING SHOTS: X-Ray screaming. The Rogue Alien turning. Spotting a new target. X-Ray realizing he's next. Hiker being dropped to floor. Boneless. Rogue Alien smashing into side bars. Over and over. Trying to get at X-Ray. Inmates calling for help. Others waking. Steel piston moving. Guard house dropping. Spotlights sweeping tiers. Rogue sizing up bars. Then making an OMINOUS CLATTERING SOUND as its exoskeleton begins moving, plates unhinging, shifting, collapsing. Rogue reshaping itself -- then, impossibly, passing through the bars. X-Ray falling silent. Stunned. The Rogue snapping back into shape, rehinging in one tremendous body- flex. And now attacking. Blood dancing on air. Rogue attacking. Entrails spilling. Attacking. Attacking. Attacking. 94 INT. BOTTOM TIER - CELL BLOCK The guard house finally bottoms out. Spotlights find... STYLES Over there! Other side, other side! Lights whirl around the tier. The cells there are red. And empty. And quietly dripping. 95 INT. MACHINERY LEVEL Flashlight beams probe machinery. SHOTS of huge gears. Pistons. Conduit. And the first sign of blood. Guards with dogs track the blood through the machinery level, the bowels of the station. The trail leads to... A utility shaft. In better light, we see the faces of these Special Service guards, a.k.a. the Shit Squad. It's a ragged but tough-ass crew of men and women who will do just about anything for time-and-a- half. Their BOSS looks down the shaft. It narrows and turns, hiding its other end. BOSS Right Nut. Get a reading. RIGHT NUT shoulders to the front, aims an Echo Location Gun (E.L.G.) down the shaft and pulls the trigger. 96 INT. UTILITY SHAFT Small sonic grenades DETONATE, blinding us. 97 INT. MACHINERY LEVEL RIGHT NUT (reading display) Clear, Boss. Guards trade glances. Does that mean it got away? Or does that mean they have to go down there? BOSS Let's get a deeper reading. 98 INT. UTILITY SHAFT Right Nut climbs down -- and one look at his face tells us he hates this gig. He reaches the twist where the shaft becomes a tunnel. Beams his light. Sees nothing. Crawls ahead to reach... A juncture. Here the tunnel splits into two passages. Right Nut points the E.L.G. down a passage and FIRES. CLOSE on the gun's display-screen. We can "see" the sonic grenades detonate. They show clear tunnel. Right Nut turns and FIRES down the other passage. A bogey registers. It's far ahead and moving away. But it's there. RIGHT NUT Shit. He deliberates -- then makes the wisest decision of his young life. 99 INT. MACHINERY LEVEL RIGHT NUT Clear, Boss. Nothing down there. Other guards help him out of the shaft. BOSS Awright, someone get a torch. Seal this thing up tight as a 12-year- old. Left Nut, pick a dog and kill it. Then drag it around the cell block so they all see. Guards deploy. Boss turns back to Right Nut -- and his face wonders if the tunnel really was clear. 100 EXT. SPACE STATION - DAY In hard morning light. 101 INT. BOTTOM TIER - CELL BLOCK BLOCK VOICE Doors opening. Stand clear. Doors opening. Throughout the block, cell DOORS CLATTER open. The new inmates shuffle out, glancing furtively at the two cells now curtained off with tarps. Sounds of RECONSTRUCTION. Inmates move for the stairwells. Styles slows as he passes the Aborigine's cell -- and looks at what he tried to see the night before. STYLES' POV: The cave drawings. Stylized and crude. But the beast portrayed is, to Styles' eyes, alien. To our eyes, it is unmistakably Alien. STYLES Some bad craziness here... 102 INT. CORRIDOR Chained together, lines of inmates are being herded off to work. Daggs falls in step beside Styles. STYLES So what is it? DAGGS What's that? Just a look trom Styles. DAGGS Heard it was a rabid dog. Got loose of the kennel and was living under the cell block. STYLES A dog? That comes through the floor? That sound right to you, Daggs? DAGGS Only know what I hear. STYLES But do you believe what you hear? DAGGS I believe it's time to shit-can all these questions. 103 INT. INFIRMARY Styles at his work-station. Instead of stool samples, he's checking paperwork. He turns upon hearing... PACKARD (O.S.) (to med-tech) ...hook up the Doppler probe to his pulse points. Oh, and rehydrate some blood. Four units. Packard strides in, attending a patient on a gurney. The patient goes to the telesurgery berth. Packard goes to the terminal in her office. 104 INT. PACKARD'S OFFICE - INFIRMARY STYLES (entering) Been checking these records, these kennel histories. There's not one reference to -- PACKARD Away, Styles. STYLES I'm talking about last night. PACKARD I don't know about last night. STYLES You didn't hear? PACKARD What'd I just say? STYLES Two inmates died. In the cell clock. NURSE Doctor's office. A downworld NURSE has appeared on the terminal screen. PACKARD Packard here, resident D.P. up on Moloch. I have a patient, multiple perforations from a stitch rifle, extensive arterial damage, now being prepped for telesurgery. NURSE I'm sorry, but Dr. Gibson gave me strict instructions not to -- PACKARD I'm not listening. She's the vascular surgeon on call, so find her and have her on-line in 15 minutes. Disconnect. PACKARD Take it back. Did hear. Something about a rabid dog. STYLES What about the bodies? PACKARD What about 'em? STYLES Have you seen them? PACKARD Why would I? Said they were dead, didn't you? STYLES Just thought... PACKARD (annoyed) This isn't a hospital, Styles. It's a repair shop. Replace a valve, patch a leak, check the levels and get 'em back on-line. It they're dead, that's that. They get shipped downworld somewhere. STYLES (showing records) Look. Not one case of rabies in three years. How's a dog gonna get it? It's contagious, isn't it? From bites? So how's one dog gonna get rabies if none of the others have it? PACKARD Probably from an inmate. 105 INT. INFIRMARY She exits the office and moves for telesurgery. Styles stays with her. STYLES What is it? You afraid to find out? Or you just don't care? PACKARD Nobody is here because they "care." We're all trying to qualify for a stress-disability pension and get 40 percent base-salary for life. Him, her, me, all of us. Get it? STYLES (loaded) Yeah. Guess I do. PACKARD It's a Company world, Styles. And I'm just one citizen. 106 EXT. SPACE STATION - DAY Buoys flash yellow. Soon the drone ship appears -- a sleek surface-to- orbit limousine with stubbed wings and needled nose. It shows the corporate logo of Weylan-Yutani. 107 INT. UPPER-LEVEL CORRIDOR STATION VOICE Company drone ship docking... The captain of the guards is striding quickly for the docking port. STATION VOICE Drone ship docked. CAPTAIN Shit. He breaks into a trot. 108 INT. DOCKING PORT Twin airlocks here, a large one for cargo, a smaller one for personnel. The captain enters just as the latter is FLOODING WITH AIR. A door lifts open to reveal... One man. Amerasian. Flawless business attire. Black-hole eyes that absorb everything and reflect nothing. CAPTAIN Mr. Lone. Warden's in conference, otherwise she would've been down here to meet you personally, but she asked me to make sure you get... LONE brushes past the captain... 109 INT. UPPER-LEVEL CORRIDOR ...and strikes off on his own. The captain catches up. Nearing a junction, he tries to steer Lone to the right. CAPTAIN Quarters this way, Mr. Lone. I know how confusing this place can be. But Lone, knowing precisely where he is, steps aboard an equavator and departs to the left. The captain SWEARS and hits an intercom. CAPTAIN Made a course-correction on us. He's inbound on Level Ten. WARDEN (V.O.) The P-4 lab? CAPTAIN Where else? 110 INT. CORRIDOR OUTSIDE P-4 LAB CLOSE on Lone's hand, held flat to the doorside scanner. PULL BACK as the vault-like door opens to admit him. 111 INT. REED'S OFFICE - P-4 LAB Reed is at his desk, feet up, gene-schematics laid over his face. An assistant, MOHL, enters nervously. MOHL Uh, Mr. Reed... REED Don't bother me. I'm having a sexual fantasy. MOHL It's him. Mr. Lone. He's here. Reed springs to his feet. 112 INT. CONTROL ROOM - P-4 LAB CLOSE on a monitor. We're watching a video replay, "BREACH TEST 12/C." The video has been heavily processed with reference markers, time- frame counters, overlay graphs. But beneath all that lurks an Alien. It's outside the mock-up bunker, looking for a way in. REED (O.S.) Here. 1:37. It finds the seam. VIDEO VIEW of the Alien clawing at the chink between the bunker's pre- form panels. REED (O.S.) It knows that's the weak point. VIDEO VIEW of the Alien lunging, ramming the spot. REED (O.S.) And now it's making its breach. VIDEO VIEW cuts to the bunker interior. The Alien is breaking through to attack Ivory. Just when we think we'll have to see it all over again, the monitor dies. REED Inside at 2:06 -- 29 seconds to breach standard, non-pressurized walling. Efficient but crude. It's not my favorite monoclone. Nodding agreement, Lone turns to a ceiling-tall chamber, a room within this room. It's paneled with dark windows. MR. LONE On the other hand... REED We have this. Mohl? Mohl lowers the room lights and raises the chamber lamps. And now we see it: A synthetic womb floats in a cradle of zero-gravity, fed by umbilicus. It gives us the creeps just looking at it, but not Lone. He moves closer. Translucent areas of the womb form glazed windows. Lone squints, trying to see through. Suddenly the womb spasms. REED Just a reaction to the light. We're trying to slowly brighten its environment to minimize birth- trauma, but... The womb jerks again. REED But it really prefers the dark. (to Mohl) Photoacoustic. Mohl brings the chamber lamps down, then activates the photoacoustic equipment. REED (tapping monitor) Here. The screen shows a false-colored image of the thing within the womb. Coiled, knotty-spined, long-headed, we recognize it as Alien. Or something akin. REED Kind ot pretty, hmm? Clearly, Lone agrees: He taps playfully on the glass of the monitor, reminding us of a father at the window or a nursery. Seemingly in response, the colorful life-thing twitches. MR. LONE How much longer? The door opens for the captain and warden. Lone ignores them a moment. REED We're tracking cell-sloughage, and if there's any correlation between this one and earlier copies... He looks to Mohl, the human notebook. MOHL 220 hours of gestation. REED Roughly eight days. MR. LONE (now including warden) And the next scheduled execution? WARDEN 19 days. MR. LONE So other than a scheduling problem, we have no snags? Nervous eye-flicks between the warden, captain, Reed. "Does he know?" WARDEN If Reed says we're on schedule, then I'd have to agree. MR. LONE What of our dog? Our rabid one? Headaches all the way around. "He knows." WARDEN We're, uh, taking care of that situation. MR. LONE It's dead, then? REED If it's not yet, it will be soon -- all monoclones are short-lived to make sure they're sterile. Suicide gene kicks in after 30 days. Roughly. CAPTAIN In the meantime, it seems to be localized to the cell block. Which, obviously, is segregated from the rest of the station. MR. LONE If it is, how did it get there? And if it did, what's to prevent it from finding its way back? Good questions. No answers. MR. LONE I don't think it's in the company's interest to engage in further denial. We have a decontained biohazard. Let's deal with it quickly and smartly... (to Reed) Before we all wind up "roughly" dead. 113 INT. CORRIDOR - ADMINISTRATION LEVEL On the move: CAPTAIN I'll be down in Special Services. See what Boss can come up with. Captain splits off. Lone and the warden reach an office, and the warden hand-scans the door open. Lone enters first... 114 INT. WARDEN'S OFFICE ...and moves behind the desk. It bugs the warden. MR. LONE Desk, departure time for next deep- space transport out of Gateway. DESK VOICE 22:50 tonight. MR. LONE Desk, reserve passage for one. WARDEN (thinly veiled) You're not staying? I was hoping that you could. MR. LONE I can and am. The reservation is yours. WARDEN (realizing) You can't fire me. I'm on a perpetual contract. MR. LONE True. But you can be reassigned in cases of gross incompetence. And I think you've qualified splendidly. WARDEN Because some lab worker flushed something down a drain? Let something slip out under the door? For that I'm responsible? MR. LONE No. For trying to keep it from me. (scanning terminal) I see here there's a position on New Arcticus that requires an employee of your standing... WARDEN Arcticus? That's twenty months in hypersleep. He fixes her with those shark-black eyes. MR. LONE But only ten one way. The warden understands. Understands that Lone doesn't have to make this a round-trip ticket. 115 INT. PACKARD'S CABIN The room is spartan, not so much furnished as equipped. Few personal knick-knacks. VIEW FINDS Packard slumped in a chair, reviewing paperwork her mind isn't on. Finally she pulls out what she's really thinking about -- the kennel histories. She pages through. Then dials a terminal. DESK VOICE Warden's desk. PACKARD She in? DESK VOICE I'm sorry. Warden Wells is on administrative leave. PACKARD For how long? DESK VOICE Indefinitely. PACKARD And no one told us? I don't believe this. Who's in charge? DESK VOICE Mr. Lone has temporarily taken over operations. PACKARD (halr-recognizing) Lone? DESK VOICE Is there any message? PACKARD No. No message. Disconnect. PACKARD This place... A beat, then she calls up the corporate directory to run a name. The screen fills with a videograph of Lone. Packard scans the sidebar information -- and finds the words "Bio-Weapons Division." 116 EXT. SPACE STATION - NIGHT With the moon as a backdrop. 117 INT. HIKER'S CELL The tarps are gone. The cell has been patched, painted, repaired. The only sign of its former occupant is the metal backpack rod that Styles finds in a corner. STYLES Just needs a vacancy sign... The sink faucet drips. Styles shuts it off. Then with a thought, he squeaks it back on. WATER RUNS beneath the floor. BLOCK VOICE Lockdown. 30 seconds to lockdown. 118 INT. BOTTOM TIER - CELL BLOCK Tracking the water, Styles exits the cell. The pipes are visible under the grated walkway. They merge with a larger duct that bores through the heart of machinery level. BLOCK VOICE Lockdown. 20 seconds to lockdown. Styles kneels and inspects the walkway grating. Some of the joints look rusted. Vulnerable. BLOCK VOICE Lockdown. 10 seconds to lockdown. VAN BRUNT (calling from cell) Styles? Styles looks up -- and realizes he's on the wrong side of the tier. He kicks it into high gear... 119 INT. STYLES' CELL ...and enters as the cell door begins closing. Spinning, Styles holds the backpack rod lengthwise in the path of the closing door. The door clamps down on the rod. We hear other DOORS SLAMMING SHUT -- but the backpack rod, shivering under the strain, seems like it might hold the door at bay. BLOCK VOICE Lockdown complete. The rod explodes. Shrapnel nearly decapitates Van Brunt. The DOOR CRASHES SHUT. VAN BRUNT wish I could find a blade that would shave that close. STYLES Stronger. Just a little stronger. 120 INT. CELL BLOCK In lockdown lighting. 121 INT. DOMINGO'S CELL START on the lower bunk, empty. MOVE to the upper bunk. We find Kiryu here, naked and asleep, her head pillowed on Domingo. He's wide awake. Listening. Standing guard for them both. Something grabs his leg. Domingo lunges with his shank. It nearly cuts... Grimes, his hand snaking back through the side bars. GRIMES Little jumpy, huh? 122 INT. THREE CELLS A midnight meeting: Styles and Van Brunt stand at the side bars of their cell, looking past Grimes to confer with Domingo and Kiryu in the cell once-removed. STYLES Having second thoughts about this place -- an' to tell the truth, they're the same as my first ones. I want to make a move. DOMINGO Let's do it. Tomorrow. Go up top, find that little skag-ass bellhop and grab his cell so's we -- STYLES (shaking head) I want out, Domingo. The Big Out. 123 PREPARATIONS MONTAGE In a collage of fast-moving SHOTS, we see preparations for the breakout: A. Foundry. End of shift. Kiryu is getting paid, a guard counting coins into her palm. The guard fails to notice the metal-weave bracelet on her wrist. B. Cell. Kiryu unwinds the bracelet. It's made of pilfered wire, yards of it. C. Bottom tier. Beneath a staircase, Styles uses the wire to saw the joints of the floor grating. D. Cell. A sink faucet, untended, runs water. E. Bottom tier. Domingo saws on the grate. A joint is severed. F. Cell. After lockdown. Styles watching the tier dog prowl beyond the bars. G. Upper tier. Van Brunt buys shower caps from black inmates. H. Cell. Van Brunt and Kiryu pick glow-worms off the ceiling, collecting them in the plastic caps. I. Cell. The sink faucet runs endlessly. J. Cell. Styles saws the ends off the broken backpack rod, fashioning pieces of equal length. K. Bottom tier. Domingo lifts the cut-out panel free of the grating. The hole leads straight down into the machinery level. L. Cell. The water from the faucet finally begins to dwindle. 124 INT. STYLES' CELL BLOCK VOICE Lockdown. Ten seconds to lockdown. The cell door moves to within a foot of closure -- then stops, blocked by a new rod. It's three sections of rod wired together into one thick bundle of steel. We hear the OTHER DOORS SLAMMING CLOSED. BLOCK VOICE Lockdown complete. Straining to close, the cell door GROWLS. Shudders. WHINES. And then, with a SHATTERING CRACK, it surrenders. Styles appears -- and slides the cell door open as easily as if he were stepping onto a patio. 125 INT. BOTTOM TIER - CELL BLOCK Morning. Prisoners file for staircases. The new inmates huddle at the walkway railing, sizing up the water duct below. STYLES What about it? GRIMES It goes down, man. And down is where the what-the-fuck lives. STYLES But it's gotta go back up. Water tanker comes in at the docking port, Level Ten. GRIMES Yeah? Says who? I never seen no tanker. We're takin' your word for everything here. I mean, why the shit should we listen to you? How cum nobody listens to me? DOMINGO 'Cuz he's smart. GRIMES Yeah? He's here, ain't he? How smart's that? And what's he in for? Fraud. Does that tell you something? VAN BRUNT Broken out of every other place he's been. GRIMES Well, this ain't every other place. An' hey, what about you? Mr. Crash And Burn? You fuckin' turned 49 people into ash. Now you're gonna fly us outta here? Hey, this is ratshit. This is a circle-jerk for kamikazes. STYLES Okay, Grimes. You're out. GRIMES Yeah? Says who? Fed up, Styles slap-grabs Grimes by the back of the head and walks him away. STYLES What's your sentence, Grimes? 32 years or something? GRIMES 26 with good behavior. STYLES Figure 32. Think you can last that long? In the foundry? Or down here? See, Van Brunt I need for a pilot. Domingo I need because he's strong and won't mind snapping necks on the other end if it comes to that. Kiryu I need because Domingo won't come without her. But you, you little turkey neck, the only reason you're plugged in is because I need to keep an eye on that shit-spewin' mouth of yours. GRIMES I dunno know, man. I dunno. Why should we rely on you? STYLES You don't rely on me. If I go down when we're goin' out, I want you to keep goin'. I want you to crawl over my bloody corpse and get out of this hellhole. Because believe me, Grimes. I'd do the same for you. He shoves Grimes back toward the others. STYLES When the water goes, we go. 126 INT. HULL SECTION - CORRIDOR "HULL-REPAIR PACK -- EMERGENCY USE ONLY" Beneath the warning, a blast-pack hangs in a wall recess. Hands jerk the pack away. WIDER, we see S.S. guards moving down the corridor with a hand-cart. The cart is stacked high with blast-packs. 127 INT. SPECIAL SERVICES ARMORY Boss finishes positioning nozzles of two blast-packs. They've ben integrated into a doorway trap made of welded pipe. Lasers serve as trip-wires. BOSS Awright, stand clear. S.S. guards back off. Boss unpins a sonic grenade and pitches it through the doorway. Lightning-fast: The grenade trips the beams. Blast-packs spray from both sides, shooting out a thick hull-patching resin. The sonic GRENADE DETONATES. The resin catches the explosion, coating and drying it instantly. A plate of resin clatters to the floor. A starburst pattern bulges from its center. BOSS There's the concept. Figure we got the makin's for a good ten traps. Now let's wipe ass and make it work. Guards begin hauling away blast-packs, pipe, welders. Boss steps to his Right and Left Nut. BOSS Whaddya think? RIGHT NUT Think a grenade's a grenade -- and a "decontained biohazard" ain't. BOSS Yead, I know. That's why I had the foundry make these up. He opens a munitions box. Inside are needle-rounds for a stitch rifle -- big nasty ones. LEFT NUT Oh, fuck me hard, I love it. BOSS Four times the normal bore with phophorus-magnesium tips. They'll burn hard and fast, so inboard passages only. Got it? RIGHT NUT (digging in) Party favors... 128 INT. CONTROL-ROOM - P-4 LAB After hours. The control room is shadowy and quiet. MR. LONE (O.S.) I wonder if it knows we're here. Sometimes it moves in a certain way, turning its head as if to look out. VIEW FINDS Lone at the window of the cradle chamber, entranced by the artificial womb that rolls around gently inside. MR. LONE (CONT'D) It makes me wonder. What it must think. If it does see us. Finally he looks to Mohl, seated at a console, working with the video replays. MR. LONE Let me know when you have something for me. Mohl nods. Lone turns for the door. 129 INT. CRADLE CHAMBER - P-4 LAB WOMB'S POV: Of Lone leaving. 130 INT. INFIRMARY CLOSE on a monitor. Someone is cycling through daylight views of the station's exterior. The monitor holds on an angle of the docking port. Styles is leaning over the monitor. He absently rubs the back of one hand as he concentrates. MED-TECH #2 Breaking out? STYLES (jarred) Huh? The med-tech looks closer at his hand. MED-TECH #2 That rash. Here. Let's try this. (sprays spot with canister) Give it a couple minutes. She sets the canister down and leaves. Brow furrowing, Styles sniffs the sprayed area -- and finds something familiar in the smell. He picks up the canister. Checks the contents. Hangs onto it as he heads for Packard's office. 131 INT. PACKARD'S OFFICE - INFIRMARY Packard sits at the terminal, back to VIEW. A man's troubled face is seen on the screen. Something's wrong here. HUSBAND ...waiting for a good time, but you know, there never was any. PACKARD You're not renewing the contract, is that it? HUSBAND C'mon, Chris, you had to know. We haven't been together in five months. And I'm not saying that's your fault. But I'm down here, and you're stuck up there, and there's just a lot of things going on in my life right now... On the screen, a young woman wanders into the BACKGROUND. Hearing conversation, she turns toward VIEW and seems startled to see the husband conversing. Too late, the woman darts away. PACKARD Yeah. I can see. HUSBAND I, uh, better go. Eikenberry will clean up the legal stuff, if that's okay with you. (no response) Be well, Chris. Disconnect. Packard's eyes puddle up. Trying to shake it off, she wipes her face and checks her reflection in the dead screen. There's another face there. PACKARD (spinning) Want to try knocking next time? STYLES There's no door. PACKARD So beat your head against... (apologizing) It's not you, it's just...this place. STYLES Didn't know you were married. PACKARD Well, you weren't alone. STYLES First contract? PACKARD (nodding) One five-year. STYLES Hey, least you went the distance. I got 17 days out of my three-year. PACKARD You were married for 17 days? STYLES Two-and-half weeks of Holy Deadlock. (entering, sitting) She was one of these sweet young things that writes you torrid letters while you're in prison. Don't really understand it, but some women just seem attracted to incarcerated men. PACKARD Some sick females out there. STYLES We got married in prison. I wanted to surprise her with a honeymoon, so I did the Midnight March over the wall. Surprise was on me. She was married to three other guys in three other prisons. PACKARD (feeling it) Ohhhh... They commiserate in silence. Then Packard stands, getting back to work. PACKARD Well. Did you want something? STYLES (showing canister) Mind if I take it with me? Just for my hand here. PACKARD That's alcohol-based. Could be used for a torch. They aren't going to let you in the cell block with it. STYLES They will if you sign for it. PACKARD Christ. Why can't you just steal things like a normal prisoner? STYLES (leaving) Okay. PACKARD Don't you dare. (suspicious again) If I sign, you aren't gonna screw me with this, are you? Because once a day is my personal limit. STYLES Would I do that? PACKARD If I gave you half a chance. STYLES Which you haven't. She looks him over, trying to figure him out -- and maybe just now sees the man inside the prisoner. Then with as much vulnerability as she'll ever show: PACKARD I have this thing about trust. Betrayal, actually. So just don't lie to me, okay? Not unless you're absolutely sure I'll never find out. He smiles winningly. And helps wipe her face dry. 132 INT. INFIRMARY Styles and Packard are visible through the office window. PULL BACK to reveal Daggs watching them -- closely. When Styles exits the office... DAGGS Hey, sex ape. Styles veers closer. DAGGS Let me ask you somethin'. Do you give the smallest shit about this lady? Or you just scammin' her? STYLES Don't know what you mean, Daggs. Just doin' a job, that's all. (flipping canister) Just doin' a job. 133 INT. STYLES' CELL CLOSE on a faucet, sputtering out the last of its water. PULL BACK to reveal Styles and the other new inmates. That's all they were waiting for. 134 INT. CELL BLOCK After lockdown. A WHISTLE sounds. Entry doors open. Guard dogs run free. 135 INT. BOTTOM TIER - CELL BLOCK The tier dog appears. Nose low, it circles the walkway once and finds nothing irregular. CLOSE on two feet. They swing away from the underside of a staircase and drop to the walkway with a soft THUNK. Hearing, the dog turns. It's Styles. Outside his cell. The dog takes off like a guided missile. Styles waits, needing to time this just right. Now he starts running. And just when the dog is about to chew him a second asshole... A cell door opens by itself. 136 INT. EMPTY CELL - BOTTOM TIER Styles cuts inside. The dog sticks with him. Styles dives through a cut-away area of the side bars, entering the next cell. The dog tries to follow -- but a mattress appears, blocking the hole. The dog turns back for the cell door just as... Strands of wire pull it closed. The dog is trapped. 137 INT. BOTTOM TIER The new inmates exit the adjacent cell. Skulking past, Grimes blows the trapped dog a kiss. 138 INT. UNDER TIER WALKWAY - MACHINERY LEVEL As the new inmates drop through the cut-out panel. 139 INT. MACHINERY LEVEL Blackness. Then an orb of soft light appears, followed by others: The inmates are taking out shower caps filled with glow-worms. STYLES Not. A fucking. Sound. They move out. 140 INT. MACHINERY LEVEL CLOSE on a laser trip-beam. TILT UP to find Styles pondering the doorway trap. Wanting no part of it, he leads the others around. 141 INT. MACHINERY LEVEL Domingo cranks open a hatch atop the main water line. Van Brunt reaches inside to plumb the bottom. His fingers come back... VAN BRUNT Dry. 142 INT. WATER DUCT Styles leads, followed by Kiryu, Domingo, Grimes, Van Brunt. They crawl, glow-worm bags strung around their necks like brandy kegs. It's tight in here, no room to turn around, and they hate it. Especially Grimes. 143 INT. JUNCTION - WATER DUCT A forking junction. Styles doesn't know which way. He mentally flips a coin and veers to the right. 144 INT. WATER DUCT Grimes slows to a stop. Is the duct sloping? Or is it just his imagination? GRIMES Hey. Styles. VAN BRUNT Shut up, man. GRIMES Styles. We're goin' down. Shoulda gone the other way, man, shoulda gone left back there at -- Domingo kicks him in the face. DOMINGO Sorry. They crawl on, Grimes nursing a bloody lip. But trailing, Van Brunt stops to cock an ear. What was that SOUND? He looks back through his legs to see... A long empty tunnel. Van Brunt hurries to catch up. HOLD on the emptiness. And now we hear it: It's that SLIDING-CLAWING sound -- the noise that makes our balls want to crawl up in our stomachs and hide there. 145 EXT. SPACE STATION - NIGHT As the massive water tanker pilots to a stop just beyond the blockade of red buoys. 146 INT. DOCKING PORT TANKER PILOT (V.O.) Moloch Island, this is Tanker WYT/116 requesting permission to dock at Level 10 gantry. The DOCKING OFFICER checks the time, shakes her head. DOCKING OFFICER Once in his life he's early... (into headset) WYT/116, this is Moloch Island Docking Control. Bring it on in. 147 EXT. DOCKING PORT - SPACE STATION - NIGHT As the tanker docks. 148 INT. WATER DUCT START on running water, coursing several inches deep along the floor of the duct. MOVE to Styles, taking note of the deepening water before crawling on. 149 INT. VALVE - WATER DUCT Styles reaches an oversized butterfly valve. Water gushes out around the edges. He tries to rotate it open but can't. STYLES 'Mingo. Domingo sloshes past Kiryu to join him. DOMINGO (indicating water) Shit's gettin' deeper. STYLES Noticed. DOMINGO Mean what I think it means? STYLES Maybe. DOMINGO Uh, Kiryu, she don't swim so hot. Just told me. Maybe we should think about, y'know, maybe goin' back. STYLES Can't. DOMINGO Why not? STYLES 'Cuz I have no fucking idea where we are. Now push while I burn. He unpockets the canister from the infirmary, lights the aerosol. He turns his torch on hinge of the valve. 150 INT. MAIN WATER TANK From the other side, we see the valve being bent away. Styles wriggles through first, then sloshes to his feet. He looks around in dreadful wonder. A sky of glow-worms illuminates the cavernous grotto. Waterfalls. Tortured outcroppings of secreted resin. Everything wreaks of decay. One by one, the inmates enter. All look around with the same thought. "Let's get through here fast." Styles eyes the largest waterfall, fed by an conduit near the ceiling. The adjacent wall looks climbable. He starts for it, pushing through hip-deep water. Silent, anxious, the other follow. Van Brunt touches an outcropping. Bones interlace the black resin. Human bones. Trailing, Grimes hears a SPLASH. He whirls to see... A footprint spreading on the water. Did something fall in? Or did something dive in? Styles reaches the far side of the pool. Slips out. Waits for the others. Then starts up the wall. Skirting the waterfall, the inmates climb. Grimes keeps an eye on the water below. Nothing surfaces to give chase. Breathing a little easier, he climbs out of FRAME -- but we HOLD on the waterfall. Beneath its veil of water, a black shadow climbs. Styles scales a platform at the head of the waterfall. He turns back to wait for the others, then... STYLES Where's Grimes? VAN BRUNT Thought he was right... They look back down just as... Grimes bursts through the waterfall, skewered on the tail of the Rogue Alien. He tries to scream but can only vomit blooded water. As quickly as he appeared, Grimes vanishes. A bone-freezing moment. Suddenly Styles leaps into the conduit that feeds the waterfall... 151 INT. OVERSIZED CONDUIT ...and grabs the ceiling hand-grips. Kiryu, Van Brunt, Domingo come on his ass. Hand over hand, they sling over the quick-moving water, heading upstream. Domingo chances a look back to see... The Rogue Alien. DOMINGO It's fuckin' comin'! Flushed with adrenaline, the inmates pick up the speed, hands blurring over the grips, Van Brunt jungle-gyms past Kiryu: She's having trouble keeping up. Styles peers ahead, How much further? How much? The Rogue gains. Kiryu misses a grip. She breaks her fall but can only hang, arms on fire. Just when it seems she'll drop into the river... Domingo catches her from behind, scissoring her in his legs. DOMINGO Hold onto me! Hold on! Kiryu twines around him. Carrying both weights now, Domingo swings onward. 152 INT. LANDING - OVERSIZED CONDUIT Styles reaches a landing -- and the end of the line: A downpour of water falls from an overhead shaft. The conduit terminates here. 153 INT. OVERSIZED CONDUIT CLOSE on Domingo's hands, ripped and bleeding. Kiryu slips down his body. Now her feet drag in the river, slowing them even more. Trying to work different muscles, Domingo switches to a back-handed grab. It doesn't help. 154 INT. LANDING - OVERSIZED CONDUIT Van Brunt makes the landing. Looks around. Can't find... VAN BRUNT Styles! Suddenly he's there, stepping out of the downpour. STYLES There's a ladder! Here! Van Brunt plunges an arm into the water. Gropes upward. Feels the first rung. Gulps air and vanishes into the downpour. Styles looks back to see... The Rogue right behind Domingo and Kiryu. In three seconds they'll be dead. Unless Domingo will... STYLES Drop her. The Rogue's long bony back slips underwater. STYLES Drop her. Domingo keeps coming. Kiryu keeps holding on. STYLES Drop her, Domingo! He never does. Something black rushes up from the water. In a heartbeat, they're both gone. 155 INT. VERTICAL WATER SHAFT SHOTS of Van Brunt and Styles climbing. WATER THUNDERS down -- it's like showering under a thousand fire hoses. 156 INT. UPPER-LEVEL CONDUIT ROOM An access hatch turns, opens. Van Brunt falls out of the HOWLING WATER. The hatch is part of a duct that runs from floor to ceiling. Moments later, Styles falls into the room. They lie on the floor like docked fish, gulping air. They don't know where they are. They only know they're alive. Styles makes it back to his feet. Moves to the hatch. Pushes it closed -- but something blocks it open. The Rogue's face rages at the crack. Van Brunt slams into the hatch, adding his weight -- but still they can't close it. Styles looks frantically around the room, spots a skein of wire. STYLES The wire, the wire! Loop it around! Van Brunt pushes away from the hatch and runs for the wire. CLOSE on the trip-beam he doesn't see. The beam of the doorway trap. The beam he breaks in full stride. Blast-packs shoot from all sides. Van Brunt is coated and dried in mid-air. Trap ALARMS WAIL. Styles stares at the fallen statue that was Van Brunt -- until a jolt from the hatch turns him back. The Rogue's leg thrusts through the crack, groping for the floor. Styles pushes for all he's worth. Am arm sweeps around the hatch, swiping blindly. Styles ducks, dodges, holds his ground. CLATTERING SOUND. Piece by piece, the Rogue begins extruding through the foot-wide crack, plates and ribs unhinged. Styles is losing the battle -- and maybe the war. The hatch explodes open. Styles flies back. The Rogue surges into the room and snaps together with a body-flex. Styles turns to run... And finds a flame-thrower staring at him. He ducks as the S.S. guard pulls the trigger. FLAME ROARS right over Styles' head... Engulfing the Rogue. More S.S. guards appear, OPENING FIRE with chittering stitch rifles and concussion grenades. Blinding flashes. Streaming trails of phosphorous. Flaming acid. Styles hits the deck and covers up. Burning needles stitch across the Rogue's neck, severing the head from body. Impossibly, it stays on its feet. Acid lands all around Styles, opening gashes in the floor. The captain enters. He steps over the Rogue's head to enter the fray -- but the head strikes with its jaws, still alive, hooking the captain's thigh and twisting him down. At close range, the captain empties his stitch gun into the head. Acid brains splash back, covering him. Finally the headless Rogue falls. The guns go quiet. A long smoky beat. This was, very simply, one of the most hellacious firefights we've ever seen. The room has been blasted into another time zone. Styles unballs and looks. The captain lies dead. But dead, too, is the Rogue Alien. It's over. The nightmare is over. Suddenly the floor caves in... 157 INT. MORGUE - P-4 LAB ...crash-landing Styles into the room below. Shaking off unconsciousness, he sees... Prisoners. All dead. All inside shrink-wrap membrane. All torn apart in the most hideous fashion imaginable. One face is recognizable as Ivory's. And now Styles realizes that, no, the nightmare isn't over. In fact it's just begun. 158 INT. UPPER-LEVEL CONDUIT ROOM Bodies and body parts under sheets. Lone is here, standing at the edge of the collapsed floor, looking down into the P-4 morgue. Momentarily he steps through a door to look at... 159 INT. CORRIDOR Styles. Back in full chains, pinned to the wall by guards. Lone fixes him with those bottomless black eyes. And then shakes his head as he leaves. MR. LONE Snag. 160 INT. ELEVATOR STYLES So what's the verdict? No answer from Daggs, who rides the elevator down with two S.S. guards. STYLES C'mon, Daggs. If they're gonna cash me out, 'least you can tell me. Doors open. Daggs lets the S.S. guards exit first. DAGGS Let's put it this way. I don't think you'll wanna renew any magazines. 161 INT. SOLITARY CELL A coffin of a room. Styles is chained to the wall. VOICE Just for future reference. Am I the world-class jerk I feel like? I mean, was I such an easy mark? He finds Packard's face staring down from a caged monitor in the ceiling. PACKARD They found the canister. The one you used for a torch. Targeted me, didn't you? Right from the top. Christ, I shoulda known better. Years ago, I shoulda known better. Styles looks away. PACKARD Don't feel anything, do you? Nothing for the ones that died. STYLES Me? PACKARD Your idea, wasn't it? The escape? Well, I'm told five people are dead today, including the captain of the guards, who -- STYLES How 'bout you? What do you feel? PACKARD Me. STYLES I came to you, remember? Tried to tell you that people were dyin' here, dyin' in some bad craziness. And you didn't hear. You didn't wanna hear. Packard goes quiet. Smelling her guilt, Styles rises up in his chains. STYLES There was this prisoner. Worked in the foundry. They fumed him out two days ago. You musta seen it -- they piped it through this place like the World Fucking Series. Well, guess what? I just saw him, saw him hacked up like something that doubled back through the slaughterhouse. PACKARD What is this? Another angle, another scam? You think that if you concoct some -- STYLES You tell me what it is. Tell me what happened to the half-dozen guys I saw in body bags. And while you're -- The screen goes dead. STYLES (raging) While you're at it, tell me what they're really makin' behind that door, that big fuckin' honker of a door where your pal Reed works. You really think it's drugs? Just drugs? The monitor stays dark -- but there's a small red dot visible in an upper corner. Was it there before? Before she appeared? STYLES Then I'll tell you. It's hooked up to this thing, this living gargoyle that they tried to slough off as a rabid dog. That's why I was trying to get outta here, Packard -- just to stay alive. Can you understand that? Nothing but the red dot. Styles slumps in his chains. STYLES I know a lot of these guys are human sludge. Some of 'em should die -- and maybe even me, too. Not 'cause I ever killed anyone. But just for the whole shitty mess I've made of life. But hey. Nobody deserves to die the way they do around here. Nobody. 162 INT. PACKARD'S OFFICE - INFIRMARY Packard is at her terminal, still staring down at Styles. Still listening. 163 EXT. SPACE STATION - SUNSET As the sun is extinguished by Earth, throwing the station into night. 164 INT. CORRIDOR OUTSIDE P-4 LAB START on the vault-like door. PULL BACK to include Packard, staring at it. She waits for foot-traffic to clear before laying a hand on the doorside scanner. ACCESS DENIED -- UNAUTHORIZED PERSONNEL. She didn't think it would be that easy. 165 INT. CARGO ANNEX - DOCKING PORT CLOSE on a sheet being pulled back. Beneath is the shrink-wrapped corpse of the captain. Packard holds the sheet. She checks over her shoulder to make sure the docking officers can't see. Then she unpockets a scalpel. 166 INT. P-4 LAB The vault-like door opens. Packard steps inside, quickly wrapping up the amputated hand. She ventures deeper into the rambling containment facility, seeing... Lab animals behind glass... Terminal screens with shifting gene maps... Automated biochemistry machines -- sequencers, purifiers, synthesizers, fermentation tanks -- all filtering and HUMMING... Active culture dishes marked "Viable Clone Material"... Small stockpiles of pharmaceuticals being produced. Drugs are being made here, and that seems to placate Packard. Until she spies... Another door. At the far end of the lab. 167 INT. CRADLE CHAMBER - P-4 LAB WOMB'S POV: Of someone entering. Stopping. Looking around. And stepping closer. 168 INT. CONTROL ROOM - P-4 LAB It's Packard. She's peering through the chamber window at the amorphous thing inside. She moves to a console, activates chamber lamps to see... The womb. Floating. Spasming. 169 INT. CRADLE CHAMBER - P-4 LAB WOMB'S POV: Of Packard leaving the window. 170 INT. CONTROL ROOM - P-4 LAB Minutes later. Packard works the terminal, raiding classified files. Many have the division heading... PACKARD "Bio-Weapons." Everywhere. She enters a "PROGRAM DIRECTIVE" file. PACKARD (scanning) "Program Director is charged with determining the feasibility of chemically and/or genetically altering existing xenomorphic species in order to produce a more adaptive, manageable, transportable strain. To this end, Director will avail... (backtracking) "Xenomorphic species..." A nervous glance at the artificial womb. Then moving on, Packard plunders the "PROGRAM HISTORY" directory. Videographs flit across the screen. One makes Packard backtrack. CLOSER on the screen. "DECEASED" beneath the face of a woman. She seems about Packard's age. But with the too-old eyes of someone who has seen Hell twice -- and returned to talk about it. The woman is Ripley. Now Packard notices an open file-box. Videocards. She picks one at random and feeds it into a terminal slot. CLOSER. "BREACH TEST #4/B." Fast-forwarding images. Stopping to reveal SCREAMING. A man's face in chaos. He's inside the bunker. Being shredded by an Alien. PACKARD Jesus... Shaking, she slots a second videocard. CLOSER. Another annotated tape of another prisoner's death. Packard is about to try a third when a NOISE interrupts. She spins to see... Mohl, Reed's assistant. He's climbing a sub-floor staircase -- a staircase that wasn't there a minute ago. Packard blanks the terminal and slips behind a bulkhead. Mohl throws a switch. A plate in the floor closes, hiding the stairs. He moves to the terminal console. Now Packard spots... The videocard she didn't put away. Checking equipment, Mohl turns his back. In one thin second, Packard steps out, slips the card off the counter, retreats to shadow. Mohl turns. Did he hear something? He scans the control room -- and notices the exposed file-box. With the press of a button, the file-box withdraws into the console. Mohl keys it shut and leaves. 171 INT. HIDDEN STAIRS The VIEW LOOKS UP the stairs as the overhead plate opens. Packard descends cautiously. At the bottom of the stairs is a door. She lifts the unlock-lever to enter... 172 INT. COLD-CORE AIRLOCK An airlock. Packard reaches the other end. Peers through a window there but can't see anything. Reaches for the next unlock-lever -- and reconsiders, noticing... Thermal suits hanging on the wall. Just to be safe, she drags one on. OXYGEN BREATHES into the helmet. Now Packard opens the next door. Instantly her legs are gone, lost amid clouds of super-chilled air that billow into the airlock. Stunned, Packard checks the suit's thermo-gauge. Seconds ago normal, now the readout hits minus-175 -- and still plwnmets. 173 INT. COLD-CORE CHAMBER Packard holds in the doorvay. Where are the lights? She moves inside to look for controls -- and the door behind her seals, thrusting us into an even deeper dark. She waits for her eyes to adjust. Only RESPIRATOR SOUNDS. Finally Packard can read her thermo-gauge. Minus-400. Small blinks of machinery become visible. Packard edges to the lights and leans her helmet closer. Some kind of bio-readouts? She touches the panel. A light springs on to illuminate... The Alien. Packard recoils the width of the room, smashing into more controls. A second light flares on to reveal... Another Alien. Packard lurches to the door. Gloved hands grope for the unlock-lever. It's not there. BREATHING comes in worthless snatches -- she's suffocating under an avalanche of fear. All she can find is a key- plate, a fucking key-plate. Packard wheels back around and braces for the attack. Instead... The Aliens haven't moved. Both are encased in glass. Dormant. Packard forces calm on herself. Finds the key attached to the suit. Opens the door -- and leaves it open without exiting. Some stabilizing BREATHS. Now she heads back for a closer look. The room is a gallery of Aliens. An army of Aliens. All behind glass. Dreading it, Packard activates more case lights. Each Alien is slightly different: One is silvery instead of black, a chameleon that blends with its background. Another, the Brute Alien, shows a stockier strain, its exoskeleton toughened with thorns. Another is a Siamese, fused to a partner. Another is a complete abomination, as if mutated with thalidomide. There are more. But Packard doesn't have more nerve. 174 INT. HIDDEN STAIRS Airlock door opens. Packard loiters inside, rehanging the suit. Done, she turns for the stairs... And runs into Mohl. Reed. The S.S. Boss. 175 INT. WARDEN'S OFFICE PACKARD Human experimentation has been outlawed for the last 200 years. Longer. MR. LONE Clearly. Yet it's arguable as to whether any prisoner died illegally. Lone, Reed, S.S. Boss. All seated, all watching Packard prowl the room, struggling with her temper. PACKARD How can you say that? I saw the replays. I saw them, Lone. MR. LONE What you saw were prisoners who had been sentenced to death. Prisoners this colony was contractually charged with executing. PACKARD They didn't die in the gas chamber. MR. LONE Yet they died only after their appeals were exhausted, and only on the scheduled day of their execution. Does a few hours delay make such a difference? He uses words like surgical instruments. It rankles Packard. PACKARD It's not the time, it's the way. The way you're killing them twice. MR. LONE Now you're speaking psychologically. PACKARD I'm talking morally. Or is that beyond everybody's frame of reference here? MR. LONE I prefer to speak legally. While gassing is one method, no single mode of execution is mandated by ICC law. Though we're not eager to publicize any of these goings-on, Ms. Packard, they are probably lawful nonetheless. PACKARD Are they really? You've brought a lethal alien strain to within 30,000 kilometers of Earth. How many ICC quarantine laws does that violate? MR. LONE Oh, probably a dozen. And on those counts, the Company would be willing to pay all fines levied against it, should -- PACKARD How 'bout this "rabid dog"? How many inmates did it kill? And who's idea was that? MR. LONE An industrial accident stemming from the incompetence of an administrator who has already been reassigned. Nothing more to it than that. PACKARD (topping out) What the hell are you doing with these things? Why are they even here? REED Just feasibility studies, Packard. No big deal. PACKARD To study what? How good they kill? MR. LONE Company assets are, as you know, many and far-reaching. There will always be a need for defensive weapons. PACKARD Excuse me. But what this company really needs is a damn good plague. Moving on, Lone scans a personnel file. MR. LONE I see you've applied for early retirement, stress pension. I think you've earned it. PACKARD No fucking kidding. MR. LONE 700 surveyed worlds, Ms. Packard, more than 300 owned and operated by Weylan-Yutani. Some of them quite desirable. Just pick your world. I'll make it happen. PACKARD And if I don't want to sell out? What then? Do I wind up in one of your replays? MR. LONE You seem to be casting about for a villain where there is none. I'm just a businessman, Ms. Packard. And what I'm offering is a business deal. If you stay, you join the team. If your personal value- structure is such that you can't abide the notion, retire. Packard locks eyes with him for a long moment -- and then backs down. She pauses at the door. PACKARD What happens to Styles? The prisoner in solitary? What happens to him if I leave? MR. LONE Let's worry about your future. 176 INT. CORRIDOR - ADMINISTRATION LEVEL Packard walks blindly from the office. Reed catches up and falls in step. REED It's tough at first, Packard -- but only at first. After awhile, they're just lab animals. You learn not to get attached. She walks out from under his arm. 177 INT. PACKARD'S CABIN NARRATOR TC/166. Class-M planet with viable terra formed atmosphere and 112 percent Standard Gravity. Industrial center for Weylan-Yutani mining operations in the Third Quadrant. Current population of 2,127 -- 67 percent male, 30 female, 3 percent other... START on the terminal as it spews travel information, the narrative accompanied by images of described worlds. MOVE to Packard. She's dumping personal belongings into a travel case. NARRATOR (CONT'D) RY/24. Class-G planet with no viable atmosphere and 86 percent Standard Gravity. Home of Weylan-Yutani's largest deep-space observatory.... Packard reaches for a bottom shelf. As she does, something slides out of a breast pocket and hits the floor. She picks it up. It's the videocard, the one snatched from the P-4 lab. Imprinting reads... "E. S. LONE -- EYES ONLY" Packard frowns. Did the others have the imprint? She kills the narration and slots the videocard into the terminal. CLOSE on the screen. "BREACH TEST 13/A." More edited, annotated images of a prisoner under attack -- only now there's a striking difference: It's happening in the... PACKARD Cellblock? CLOSE on the screen. The Alien is smashing at bars, trying to get at the man on the other side. The man is X-Ray, and the Alien is the Rogue. Somehow, someone has managed to record this unforeseen attack -- from numerous angles. PACKARD (seething) No villains... 178 INT. SOLITARY CELL Styles looks up. FOOTSTEPS approach, at least two sets. Are they coming for him? He rises in his chains. Sounds of an UNLOCK MECHANISM. The door opens, pummeling Styles with light. But there, amid all that incandescence, stands an archangel. PACKARD That's the one. SOLITARY GUARD He looks all right to me. PACKARD Hey. If I didn't have to do surgery at this time of night, you think I'd really be here? 179 INT. CORRIDOR Styles lies on a gurney, Packard wheeling. Voices low: PACKARD They set it loose. Intentionally. They had replays of the whole thing. STYLES Reed? PACKARD Lone. Lone all the way. 180 INT. ELEVATOR Packard shoves the gurney inside. Doors close. STYLES Okay, where to? PACKARD Docking port. There's an inbound transport. If I timed this right, we can be on it before they know you're gone. He hooks her arm. STYLES Hey. You know, I'm not sure I woulda done this for you. She stares -- and sees that he means it. PACKARD How did you get this far without someone driving a stake through your heart? STYLES Just tryin' to be honest with you. PACKARD Well, it's a lousy time to start. Now how long can you hold your breath? STYLES Why? Packard snaps open a roll of layered plastic, a small vacuum device attached to one end. It's a body bag. STYLES Aw, fuck. PACKARD It's the only way I can get you inside the docking port. STYLES Dead? PACKARD One minute. That's all the time I need, Styles. Sixty seconds. Hating it, Styles sheathes the bag around himself and lies back down. The elevator tops out. PACKARD Close your eyes. Take a breath. And then don't move. He obeys. Packard hits the vacuum switch... And, the plastic implodes, shrink-wrapping Styles in an eyebllnk. He's petrlfled alive. 181 INT. ELEVATOR STOP - UPPER-LEVEL CORRIDOR Doors open. Clock ticking in her head -- in our heads -- Packard muscles the gurney out, Styles' body now beneath a loose sheet. VIEW FOLLOWS as she pushes down the corridor and passes foot-traffic. PACKARD Pardon me...comin' through...'scuze me...comin' through... Making good time, she turns a corner... 182 INT. UPPER-LEVEL CORRIDOR And finds a roadblock of guards. Chatting. Packard glances around for a corridor, an equavator, anything that will get her around. Nothing. She looks down. The sheet has slipped from Styles' face. He already looks dead. Fighting off panic, Packard jerks the sheet back up and pushes straight ahead. She passes the guards eventlessly -- though one guard leans out to watch Packard hurrying down the corridor -- hurrying just a little too fast. The guard is Daggs. 183 INT. GUARD POST - DOCKING PORT Packard reaches the docking gate. She rushes the gurney inside, but... VOICE Whoa, whoa, whoa... She looks back. A DOCKING GUARD is scowling. DOCKING GUARD Where you goin'? PACKARD Oh, just want to make sure we catch the transport. DOCKING GUARD Who's "we"? PACKARD "Me." Just me. DOCKING GUARD Well, it's runnin' few minutes late. So let's get you checked in proper. He takes a last hit on his cigarette. Stubs it out. Finds his manifest. Saunters to the gurney. Pulls back the sheet. Are we imagining it? Or is Styles' face blue? DOCKING GUARD How'd it happen? PACKARD C'mon, does it matter? He's dead. DOCKING GUARD Just askin'. I mean, he looks in pretty good shape. PACKARD Asphyxia, awright? He suffocated. You need the I.D.? Here, right on the arm. The docking guard starts to write. Packard steals a look at Styles. He's moving inside the plastic, twitching involuntarily. DOCKING GUARD Shit. PACKARD What? DOCKING GUARD (scribbling circles) Company pens. Never work right. (turning away) Gimme a second while I -- PACKARD Here, here, here... She snatches the clipboard, scribbles the prisoner number with her own pen, heaves the gurney away. PACKARD I'll dump him with the others. 184 INT. CARGO ANNEX - DOCKING PORT The gurney slams to a stop against a cargo container -- and Styles flops off, hitting the floor face-first. Packard falls on top and tears at the plastic with her fingers. She can't break through. DYING SOUNDS from Styles. Packard jams her pen into his mouth and tears. A GREAT GUZZLE OF AIR. She rips more plastic. Birthing free, Styles rolls to all fours. STYLES Take it back. I would do this for you. Anytime. She reaches to the runners of the gurney, grabs med-tech scrubs. PACKARD Get naked. 185 EXT. SPACE STATION - NIGHT As buoys rearrange to greet the incoming transport. 186 INT. SOLITARY WARD Daggs enters. He moves to the wall of monitors that show prisoners in solitary cells. DAGGS Styles. What number? SOLITARY GUARD Was in 14. Daggs double-takes. "Was"? SOLITARY GUARD Just bounced him to the infirmary. 187 INT. WARDEN'S OFFICE The DESK CHIMES. MR. LONE Yes? BOSS (V.O.) Boss here. Got a transfer that says prisoner M23842 is supposed to be down in telesurgery, but I'm -- MR. LONE Styles? He was moved? By whom? BOSS (V.O.) Packard, in-house D.P. 188 INT. INFIRMARY Boss and Daggs. BOSS (into intercom) We're down in the infirmary now, and it looks dead. Now maybe this guy's just lost in transit, but maybe not. Daggs just saw Packard up on Level Ten. MR. LONE (V.O.) Docking port. Get some men there. Now, please. I'll call ahead. 189 INT. DOCKING PORT Styles and Packard exit the cargo annex, Styles wearing med-tech scrubs. They reach the mobile operations console just as... An INTERCOM BUZZES. The docking guard doesn't hear it yet, standing at the nearby view port. INTERCOM BUZZES again. Packard reaches down and kills it. 190 INT. WARDEN'S OFFICE CALL ABORTED. The message stares up at Lone. He considers it for a lengthy beat before... MR. LONE Desk, shut it down. Shut down the entire station. 191 INT. SPECIAL SERVICES ARMORY Scramble lights whirl. On the move, S.S. guards snatch arms from gunnery racks... 192 INT. ELEVATOR STOP - LOWER-LEVEL CORRIDOR ...storm into an elevator... 193 INT. EXPRESS ELEVATOR ...and squat and brace. Boss slaps open a panel marked "EXPRESS OVERRIDE" and flattens the button inside. 194 INT. ELEVATOR SHAFT SCREAMING HELLACIOUSLY on its cables, the express car rockets upward, covering ten levels in two seconds. 195 INT. ELEVATOR STOP - UPPER-LEVEL CORRIDOR Doors fly open. Guards roll out like bowling balls and run to their feet. 196 EXT. SPACE STATION - NIGHT The transport is easing down the landing corridor. But abruptly the buoys change, switching from blinking yellow to a strobing red. The light is so intense it nearly blinds... 197 INT. COCKPIT - TRANSPORT SHIP PILOT #2 (shielding eyes) What the hell is... 198 INT. DOCKING PORT KLAXON HORNS kick in. STATION VOICE Automatic shut-down in progress. All non-essential personnel leave the area now... 199 INT. COCKPIT - TRANSPORT SHIP PILOT #2 throttles back and rocks the ship to a stop. PILOT #2 (into headset) Moloch, what's the B.F.D. here? Do we have clearance or don't we? 200 INT. DOCKING-PORT DOCKING OFFICER (into headset) Transport, be advised that -- A sidearm is pulled from the docking officer's holster. The officer turns to find Styles with the gun. Packard covers the headset mike with a hand. PACKARD (to docking officer) Be advised that everything is fine. We've had a temporary malfunction of the shut-down system... 201 INT. COCKPIT - TRANSPORT SHIP DOCKING OFFICER (V.O.) ...but repairs are already underway. Bring it on in, transport. 202 INT. UPPER-LEVEL CORRIDOR As S.S. guards double-time for the docking port. 203 INT. DOCKING PORT At the viewport, Styles and Packard watch the transport nose closer. STYLES C'mon, c'mon, c'mon... CHARGING FEET. They spin to see... S.S. guards entering, spreading. Too late, Styles realizes he's still holding a gun. He drops it like toxic waste just as... The FIREFIGHT ERUPTS. S.S. guards GANG BANG heavy. Styles and Packard dive for the operations console. Needles stitch and chew circuitry. Concussion grenades flash and blind all around. One EXPLODES right between Styles and Packard. BOSS Down, down, power down! As quickly as it started, the firefight is over. Guards are standing over the stunned Styles and Packard, jerking them to their feet. KLAXON HORNS still wail. BOSS Can we kill those things? He checks for a switch on the console -- and now notices some stitch- holes that still burn with phosphorous. BOSS What the... He wheels around. Snatches a rifle away from Left Nut. Ejects the clip to check... The ammo. They used the big-bore rounds. Now the klaxons die out -- only to give life to a thin PRESSURE COOKER sound. Dreading what he's about to see, Boss turns. There's a hole in the airlock door. Air is streaming through. Air is streaming out. 204 INT. DOCKING PORT AIRLOCK Like a vapor-trail, the air bores through the heart of the airlock... 205 EXT. SPACE STATION - NIGHT ...and spews out the exterior airlock door. 206 INT. COCKPIT - TRANSPORT SHIP PILOT #2 (seeing) Holy... He slaps overhead switches and throttles back. 207 EXT. TRANSPORT SHIP - NIGHT Front-facing jets fire, reversing the ship's direction. 208 INT. DOCKING PORT Slapping hands over the breach in the door: BOSS The bulkhead! Get it closed! Someone grab a blast-pack! Move, move, move, move! Someone throws an emergency lever. A massive bulkhead begins RUMBLING across the width of the port, isolating it from inner station. S.S. guards fall back, pulling Styles and Packard with them. Right Nut runs for a blast-pack. He finds a receptacle and finds it empty. RIGHT NUT We used it. We fuckin' used it for the... (whirling) We used it! Now Boss couldn't run even if he wanted to: The suction grips his hands, pulling them palm-first through the hole, hyperextending all ten fingers. The horror registers before the pain. A pressure-crease appears in the door. One by one, Boss's fingers snap as his hands disappear through the hole. 209 INT. UPPER-LEVEL CORRIDOR Guards retreat with Styles and Packard. Other S.S. guards slash past like scalded cats. RIGHT NUT It's gonna go! Suddenly Styles and Packard are alone. 210 INT. DOCKING PORT The airlock door collapses... 211 INT. DOCKING PORT AIRLOCK ...and tumbles through the airlock. It slams into the outer door. Both doors tear free of the station... 212 EXT. SPACE STATION - NIGHT ...fly out the landing corridor... 213 INT. COCKPIT - TRANSPORT SHIP ...and cartwheel toward the canopy -- toward our faces. The pilot doesn't even have time to get his hands up. 214 EXT. TRANSPORT SHIP - NIGHT Impact: The doors plow into the cockpit, crushing everything inside. 215 INT. DOCKING PORT The emergency bulkhead is about to close. Suddenly a cargo container, sucked by ESCAPING AIR, slides through the opening and wedges, bracing the bulkhead open. 216 INT. UPPER-LEVEL CORRIDOR WIND rips at everything. Equipment and people skitter toward the docking port. Styles and Packard are swept off their feet. They, too, will be carried away unless... Styles grabs a moving equavator car. Packard grabs him. Skidding on their stomachs, they're dragged away from the docking port. 217 EXT. SPACE STATION - NIGHT Back-up jets still firing, the transport careens out of control. The ship picks up speed as it arcs out of VIEW, vanishing. Just when we think we've seen the last of it, the ship reappears, boomeranging back into FRAME, rolling wing over wing. It corkscrews down into the station. 218 INT. CELL BLOCK The CONCUSSION rips open a wall. In ONE ASTOUNDING SHOT, we see debris flying inward...then stopping in mid-air...then reversing direction as the incoming explosion meets the outgoing pressure. 219 EXT. SPACE STATION - NIGHT As the wreckage of the transport ship is spit back outside amid a HURRICANE OF ESCAPING AIR. 220 INT. GUARD HOUSE - CELL BLOCK WINDOWS EXPLODE from their frames. Block guards fly through jagged openings. 221 INT. CELL - CELL BLOCK A prisoner is pinned against cell bars. He screams but can't be heard over the RUSHING WIND. Finally his body has nowhere to go but through the bars. He comes out the other side like bloody pasta. 222 EXT. SPACE STATION - NIGHT LONG SHOT: In a vast cosmic abortion, we see a thousand bodies hurtling past VIEW and into space. 223 INT. CONTROL ROOM - P-4 LAB Emergency lights. They strobe across walls, equipment, the cradle chamber, and... The womb. The Alien inside kicks like an animal with hornets in its brain, stretching the artificial membrane to the limits. Ominously, the first tear appears. (NOTE: This final act unfolds in real time. Every move, every word, every look is made as if it were someone's last -- which it may well be. Emergency lights whirl like capering demons, and WIND SINGS through corridors like a choir of maniacs. Starting now, we push hard and never let up.) 224 INT. CORRIDOR CUL-DE-SAC Broken wall panels, equipment, a derailed equavator -- a mass of wreckage is being dumped here, in a cul-de-sac where the wind has no outlet. Soon the pile begins moving from within, wreckage flinging aside. Styles and Packard are digging themselves out. 225 INT. CORRIDOR OUTSIDE OPERATIONS Reed appears, ducking airborne debris as he makes his way to the Operations Room. A hand clamps his shoulder. It's Lone. REED They're gone. Everybody. Came through crew quarters, and they're just fucking gone, they're -- MR. LONE Your data. You must -- REED It's goin' down. Whole place. We gotta put out a call, see if there's a freighter or a tug or something close that can -- MR. LONE Your data, Mr. Reed. You must secure your data. REED Fuck that. I wanna get outta here. MR. LONE I'll contact Gateway for help. REED Gateway? You want ICC Marshalls crawlin' through this place? Down in the lab? You prepared for that? MR. LONE My main concern is that the data is retrieved and that everyone gets off safely. Now go, Mr. Reed. I'll contact Gateway. Still Reed hesitates. MR. LONE And I'll take responsibility. Reed ducks away. Lone pushes into Operations... 226 INT. OPERATIONS ...and moves to the master communication console. He draws a stitch- gun from a dead officer's holster -- and FIRES it into the heart of the radio equipment. There will be no calls for help. 227 EXT. SPACE STATION - NIGHT As small EXPLOSIONS rock the station. 228 INT. CONTROL ROOM - P-4 LAB Reed rushes in. Begins down-dumping data. Notices a flashing message. CRADLE CHAMBER MICROGRAVITY 97% Not understanding, Reed stabs on the photo-acoustic monitor. The screen is empty. Equipment failure? He turns to the cradle chamber. It's empty. Reed edges to the window. The voided womb lies at the bottom of the chamber. Beside it, a hole has appeared in the chamber wall -- a hole where something burned its way out. 229 INT. P-4 LAB Exiting the control room, Reed crosses the main lab as if it were a graveyard at midnight. Then ahead, a section of wall begins warping. Bubbling. Melting. REED No, no, no, no... An arm appears first, pushing through the wall, pores secreting acid. Bolting, Reed makes it to the door and slaps the unlock mechanism. And now its legs appear, stepping into the lab. As the vault-like door opens slowly -- too slowly -- the shadow of the Newbreed Alien falls on him from behind. 230 INT. OPERATIONS RAPID CLOSEUPS of monitors. They show vacant corridors, twisted conduit, wind-whipped debris. No signs of life other than... Styles and Packard. Scanning monitors. PACKARD It can't be just us. I mean, we can't be the only ones who -- Door opens. Daggs and an S.S. guard enter with guns. A tense beat as the two sides glare at each other: Are they still enemies? Even now? DAGGS (pushing down other guard's gun) He ain't the problem no more. PACKARD How many others have you seen? DAGGS Just the little bridge party we got goin' here. He shoulders past them to get to the comm-panel -- and sees the fused circuitry. PACKARD Found it like that. S.S. GUARD Well, Gateway's gotta see us. They gotta see the wreckage. DAGGS Might pick it up on their docking radar. But even it they're launching right now... STYLES How long? DAGGS 30 minutes if they bust their dicks. If they don't... Swapped looks. Do they have that kind of time? Packard hits switches on the master terminal. PACKARD Calculate available air. STATION VOICE At present rate of depletion, station atmosphere will be unsuitable for human habitation in 17 minutes. Repeat. 17 minutes. S.S. GUARD Bonemeal. We're fucking bonemeal. PACKARD (to terminal) Keep it on overhead. (NOTE: STATION VOICE will count down the time whether noted herein or not.) STYLES What about the Warden? There's gotta be an -- DAGGS Shit-canned three days ago. STYLES Then Lone. Can't believe he wouldn't have some way to bail. There's gotta be something, a lifeboat, escape pod, something in case -- DAGGS It's a fucking prison, huh? You ain't supposed to get off. Styles looks at Packard, hoping like hell she knows something the rest of them don't. PACKARD You're the big escape artist. A windy beat as Styles shoulders the burden. Packard watches, putting her faith in him whether deserved or not, seeing his mind downshift and picking up speed. STYLES Oxygen tanks. I saw some in the infirmary. If we can just buy 20 extra minutes until -- DAGGS Infirmary's gone. Dead-air all around it. He's looking at the Environmental Status Map (E.S.M.). Viable areas show in blue, unviable in red -- and there's a shitload of red. STYLES Airlocks. They feed off the main system? Or is it a separate supply? DAGGS Dunno. STYLES So why're you lookin' at me instead of finding out? Locked eyes. Will the guards take orders from a prisoner? Suddenly Daggs is moving for the door, pulling the other guard along. DAGGS We're comin' back. STYLES (to Packard) Suits, environmental suits. Weren't there some at the docking station? PACKARD Probably. But on the wrong side of the bulkhead. And I don't know if... She has a new thought. STYLES What? PACKARD Thermal suits. Down in the P-4 lab. They have air. STYLES (scanning E.S.M.) Can we get there? PACKARD Maybe. Drop under on Level Six, then cut up a starboard elevator. STYLES Or go over the top, Level Eight, then shoot... STATION VOICE 16 minutes of practical atmosphere remaining. Repeat. 16 minutes. STYLES (pulling her away) We'll find a way. 231 INT. CORRIDOR CLOSE on a hand pressing to a doorside scanner. The door opens to reveal... 232 INT. SPECIMEN LIBRARY A room that recalls a small bank vault. CLOSE as hands decode one of the lock-drawers. Unlocked, the drawer glides out from the wall. Inside is a specimen case, a foot square. Mohl lifts the case out. Clutching it as if it held Condor eggs, he turns to run. 233 INT. GRATED CORRIDOR Styles and Packard speed over a grated walkway. Abruptly he pulls her to a stop, cocks an ear. FOOTFALLS under the WIND. They look down to spot... Someone running two floors below. PACKARD Mohl. P-4 technician. STYLES (a beat) You can make the lab okay? PACKARD He might be as lost as we are. STYLES Maybe. But looks like he's heading for the foundry -- and that's the only other docking port, isn't it? PACKARD We'll both go. STYLES Still might need those suits. Packard searches his eyes. She doesn't like the idea of splitting up. Not at all. PACKARD Look. If there is a way off... STYLES Yeah? PACKARD Don't you fucking dare leave without me, all right? STYLES Would I do that? He gives her a reassuring smile before bounding away. HOLD on Packard watching him leave. Her face is scared, stressed, troubled -- anything but reassured. STATION VOICE 15 minutes of practical atmosphere remaining. Repeat. 15 minutes. 234 INT. IN-BOARD AIRLOCK The two guards are ripping apart airlock walls with small tools and bare hands. It's taking too long. DAGGS Get the flamer. We'll torch it out. 235 INT. P-4 LAB Packard enters -- and pulls up short, seeing... The lab. Pieces of Reed dangle from equipment like ornaments on a Christmas tree. She forces herself inside. Listens for danger but hears only the WIND. Sees the hole in the wall where the Newbreed Alien entered: It offers a ghostly impression of what the beast may look like. 236 INT. CORRIDOR Clutching the specimen case, Mohl runs. TILT UP to find Styles, shadowing him from above. 237 INT. ELEVATOR STOP - GRATED CORRIDOR Styles reaches a blown-open elevator shaft. Needing to drop floors, he leaps to the cables and spirals down. 238 INT. COLD-CORE AIRLOCK Packard enters. Grabs four suits. Checks air reserves. Grabs helmets and ties them together with cord, hands shaking all the while. Slings helmets over one shoulder, suits over the other. Turns to get the hell out of this place -- and freezes. A shadow crosses the stairs, the shadow of something prowling the lab above. Packard shoots a glance at the door behind her -- the only other door. It leads to the cold-core chamber. It leads to the other Aliens. Drawing nearer, the shadow ripples down the stairs. Packard jerks on a thermal suit. Dogs down the helmet. Pulls an unlock-lever... 239 INT. COLD-CORE CHAMBER ...and enters, instantly sealing the door and backing away. The door-window darkens. Then the door begins warping. A dead-man's moan from Packard. There is one place to hide -- but the idea is so loathsome that even now, as the Newbreed breaches the final door, Packard hesitates. Finally she unlocks a glassite case... And snuggles up to the slumbering Alien inside. PACKARD'S POV: Of the Newbreed slouching into the dark chamber... coming nearer...nearer...nearer...and stopping right in front of us. The Newbreed inhales. It can smell Packard, can smell her fear. It just can't see her. PACKARD'S POV: Of the Newbreed moving on. Packard's heart restarts. And just when she thinks that the worst is over -- that now she can survive anything -- a tail unfurls next to her. Was it only a reflexive stretch by the Alien? Packard shoots a look at her thermo-gauge. The temperature climbs sharply. Now Packard spots the crack in the glassite -- the crack that lets in heat. The Alien unfolds more, this time with a primal GROAN. Hearing, the Newbreed looks back. Packard bursts out of the case. Hits the floor. Rolls to her feet just in time to see... The Newbreed spinning around. Its whipping tail shatters a case. Packard arrows for the door. SHRIEKING like a derailing train, the Newbreed lunges after. The Brute Alien -- stocky and thorned -- falls from the broken case and dents the floor. It writhes awake. 240 INT. COLD-CORE AIRLOCK Blasting through, Packard scoops up the other thermal suits and takes the stairs three at a time. 241 INT. FOUNDRY Ore bridges have fallen. A cracked furnace pours molten steel across the floor. Panting hard, Mohl enters. He looks around but can't find anybody. A moment of panic -- and then Lone appears, stepping from shadow. He's been waiting. MOHL Here. I've got it. Here. Lone accepts the case. Sets it down. Opens it. CLOSER. Inside is the amberized face-hugger -- the original Alien specimen. Except for small biopsy channels that crisscross the amber, the specimen is identical to when first found. MOHL We better hurry. You do have a way off, right? You said you did. Lone closes the case. Pulls out his stitch gun. Looks at Mohl with eyes dark as death. MOHL (stunned) You said you'd take care of me. If I worked for you. You said -- MR. LONE I know what I said. 242 INT. IN-BOARD AIRLOCK A FLAME-THROWER ROARS. Melting wall-panels drop away. Both guards stare dully at the exposed pneumatic system. DAGGS Main line. Shit, it hooks up to the main line... 243 INT. CORRIDOR Packard runs, tripping over the thermal suits, grabbing hits of oxygen from the tanks. She rounds a corner... 244 INT. DARK CORRIDOR And stops, facing a long, lonely corridor lit only by auxiliary lights. Barely lit. Packard gropes forward. Finds an equavator. Slaps the relay. The indicator shows a coming car. STATION VOICE 11 minutes of practical atmosphere remaining. Repeat. 11 minutes. Packard kneels to restring the helmets. But behind her, the ceiling begins sagging, softened by acid. Two long, brambled legs extend silently to the floor. Finished tying, Packard stands and turns. The Newbreed HISSES in her face. Packard recoils, falls, begins retreating on her ass. The Newbreed walks her back...back...back...and then stops unnaturally, its attention fixed behind Packard. She does a slow turn. It's the Brute Alien. Body-thorns rising like hackles, it GROWLS A CHALLENGE. The Newbreed rears its head and SHRIEKS back. Packard shoots looks between them. The two beasts are about to fight -- and she's right in the goddamn middle. The Brute Alien charges like a mad rhino. Packard rolls. The Aliens collide, shards of exoskeleton shattering away llke shrapnel. Packard grabs the thermal suits and sprints right over VIEW, leaving tire tracks on our faces. The fight is short but savage: The Newbreed brings its head down over smaller Brute's shoulder -- and rips out the Brute's spine. 245 INT. FOUNDRY Entering fast, Styles nearly falls over Mohl. He's on the floor, dying, his face a pulpy pin-cushion. MOHL He said we'd be partners... STATION VOICE 10 minutes of practical atmosphere remaining. Repeat. 10 minutes. Styles peers at the docking port near the top of the foundry but sees no movement. He leaps a molten river to reach the elevator. Debris blocks access. Styles looks for another way up. And now he spots... Lone. Climbing a service ladder. 246 INT. FOUNDRY DOCKING PORT Lone reaches the docking platform. He sets down the specimen case and moves to the viewport. He unpockets a small box, a Remote Retrieval Unit (R.R.U.). CLOSE on the R.R.U. opening. The inner lid lights up, becoming a ranging screen. A blip shows a target three clicks out. Lone thumbs a servo-switch. At first only dark Earth is visible out the viewport. Then something moves, something highlighted by flaring thruster-jets. 247 EXT. SPACE STATION - NIGHT As Lone's drone ship maneuvers toward the station. 248 INT. FOUNDRY DOCKING PORT The ship looms larger and larger until finally it fills the viewport. CLANGING SOUNDS of docking. Lone abandons the R.R.U. and turns for... The specimen case. It's open. And empty. VOICE Not quite sure what it is... Styles has the amberized face-hugger. STYLES (CONT'D) But figure it's pretty valuable. I mean, you're takin' it instead of your partner down there, right? Lone eyes the stitch gun resting nearby. Styles holds the face-hugger over the side of the platform, threatening to drop it. Lone stays put. STYLES Just a guess, of course. But maybe it's some kind of prototype. Huh? Little pocket-edition that you had the boys in the lab whip up? MR. LONE Tell me what you want. STYLES Or is this what the others came from? Like the one somebody set loose under the cell block. Huh? Where'd that come from, Lone? Any idea? MR. LONE I can give you air. Enough for you to survive until the Gateway ships arrive. STYLES (indicating face-hugger) Is this it, Lone? Is this where a whole lotta bad craziness began? STATION VOICE Eight minutes of practical atmosphere remaining. Repeat. Eight minutes. MR. LONE If you want to negotiate, Mr. Styles, let's get down to business. STYLES Business. Man, that's what it's all about, isn't it? 'Cause if you can cut free with this chunk of rock, you're back in business. MR. LONE (indicating drone) Come with me. Right now. I'll make sure you get away. STYLES Sorry, Lone. But I don't think I want the company. He pitches the face-hugger overboard. Lone darts to the edge of the platform. Stretches out as far as humanly possible -- then adds another inch. He actually catches the specimen -- but he's left tottering on the edge, and we think he may pay for the catch with his life. Then at the last second, Lone grabs a support bracket. Relief floods his face. Until the bracket snaps. Lone plummets. 249 INT. FOUNDRY The face-hugger hits the main floor and shatters like an exploding star. HOLD on point of impact. Presently white fluid rains down from above. VIEW CRANES UP through the supports of the foundry until we find Lone impaled on a girder. He bleeds the blood of androids. STATION VOICE Seven minutes of practical atmosphere remaining. Repeat. Seven minutes. 250 INT. FOUNDRY AIRLOCK Styles enters. Moves to the docked drone ship. Yanks an unlock-lever to open the hatch... 251 INT. DRONE SHIP ...and step inside. Styles sees a viewscreen. Touches the automated controls. Then turns to the chair. The one chair. 252 INT. CORRIDOR OUTSIDE OPERATIONS Packard reaches Operations. Daggs is waiting. PACKARD (fighting for breath, for sanlty) Did you, did you, did you see what -- DAGGS On the monitors. Seen somethin' else, too. 253 INT. OPERATIONS CLOSE on a monitor with an external view of the station. Visible is the... DAGGS Drone ship. Doesn't need a pilot. It's docked at the foundry. PACKARD Styles. He was heading there. DAGGS You let him go? Alone? PACKARD (moving to E.S.M.) How do we get there? S.S. GUARD Maybe we don't have to. Got air now. We can just ride it out until -- PACKARD But if Gateway didn't launch? What happens then? You want to take that chance? With those things loose out there? DAGGS Rather rely on Gateway than some prisoner's sense of fair play. If Styles does have a ticket outta here, you think he's gonna hang around for us? PACKARD He said he'd wait. DAGGS Lady, I'll give it to you ugly but honest: He's a con, you're a chump, and you both deserve blue ribbons. PACKARD He'll wait. And it you don't believe it, don't come. Just show me how to get there. Beat. Daggs checks monitors. The corridors look clear. STATION VOICE Five minutes of practical atmosphere remaining. Repeat. Five -- DAGGS (at voice) Awright, awright, al-fuckin'-ready! (to S.S. guard) Bring the flamer. 254 INT. CORRIDOR Daggs leading, they run. Nothing fancy here -- just moving flat-out, old-fashioned, balls-to-the-walls fast. They tear around another corner... 255 INT. CUL-DE-SAC CORRIDOR ...and pile up, reaching the dead-end. PACKARD I thought you knew the way! Daggs backtracks to orient himself. Collapsed walls, strange lighting. Everything's different. STATION VOICE Four minutes of practical atmosphere remaining. Repeat. Four minutes. Packard takes oxygen. She hates this. Hates not moving. Hates being a standing target for... The Newbreed lunges from an elevator shaft. Daggs' stitch rifle, knocked away, drops through a hole in the floor. Firing reflexively, the S.S. guard ROARS his flame-thrower. The Newbreed retreats. Daggs pulls Packard to her feet and runs. 256 INT. CORRIDOR Packard and Daggs hurdle a rampart of debris. The S.S. guard clears, then whirls back to torch the rampart. He holds his position, making sure the fire catches in the thinning atmosphere. The Newbreed appears -- crawling upside-down on the ceiling to pass over the curtain of flame. 257 INT. FOUNDRY Packard and Daggs skid inside, turning back to see... The S.S. guard coming at full-throttle: Still on the ceiling, the Newbreed chases him like some nightmarish shadow. Daggs hammers a button. The overhead door begins dropping. 258 INT. CORRIDOR OUTSIDE FOUNDRY The S.S. guard dives head-first... 259 INT. FOUNDRY And slides to a stop just inside the closing door. He's safe... Until something grabs his foot and tears him back under. The DOOR BOOMS closed. Only an arm and the flame-thrower made it. Daggs grabs the weapon and pushes Packard toward the ladder. STATION VOICE Two minutes of practical atmosphere remaining. Repeat. Two minutes. Behind them, the door -- two inches of plate steel -- begins blistering. 260 INT. FOUNDRY DOCKING PORT Breathing like a dying asthmatic, Packard tops the ladder. Makes it to her feet. Throws her face to the viewport to see... Pieces of hull tumbling through otherwise empty space. The drone ship is gone. PACKARD (from the marrow of her soul) Goddamnit, Styles, I trusted you... 261 INT. FOUNDRY As the Newbreed breaches the door. 262 INT. FOUNDRY DOCKING PORT DAGGS Your helmet. Get it on. We can still go outside the hull. PACKARD And where then? Huh? Where then? Daggs doesn't know where -- that's as far as his mind can take them. STATION VOICE Sixty seconds of practical atmosphere remaining. Repeat. Sixty seconds. Now a new noise turns their heads. It sounds almost like... 263 INT. FOUNDRY ELEVATOR SHAFT An ELEVATOR RISING. 264 INT. FOUNDRY DOCKING GATE DAGGS Aw, no, no, no... Flame-thrower is dead. He tries to reprime it. Not enough air. The elevator climbs. Daggs bashes off a section of railing. It's a sad excuse for a weapon -- but he's not going down without a fight. The ELEVATOR CLANGS to a stop at platform-level. Doors draw open. STYLES What took you? It's him. Stepping off. Breathing from an oxygen tank. PACKARD (malleted) Wha... Where were you? STYLES Clearing the elevator. Thought you might need it. DAGGS What we need is a fucking ship. Where'd it go? STYLES (producing R.R.U. box) Waitin' two clicks out. Had to push it away so it wouldn't catch this hull crap. Styles moves to the viewport, activates the R.R.U. to begin recalling the drone ship. Packard joins. For one time-stopped moment, she allows herself to forget all else. PACKARD Styles? STYLES Packard? PACKARD I really thought you left. STYLES (with a look) Never crossed my mind. He's a lying sonofawhore and Packard starts to say so. But then the whole platform rocks. Daggs leans over the side to see... The Newbreed climbing the support structure. This time it's coming for real. 265 EXT. SPACE STATION - NIGHT Still a kilometer off, the drone ship maneuvers toward the station. 266 INT. FOUNDRY DOCKING PORT STATION VOICE Station atmosphere now unviable for human habitation. Repeat. Station atmosphere now unviable for human habitation... Packard tightens down her helmet, then begins dressing Styles in the spare suit. (NOTE: No sound now, unless it's HELMET CROSS-TALK or the deep RUMBLE- VIBRATIONS we feel in our bones. Other than that, play out the finale in numbing silence.) Daggs chances another look over the side -- and keeps looking. Where'd it go? Suddenly jaws rush upward and snap shut in his face. Daggs recoils all the way to the viewport, colliding with Styles and Packard. He screams something they can't hear. He slams his helmet against Styles'. DAGGS Airlock! Do it in the airlock! 267 INT. FOUNDRY AIRLOCK They bungle in. Minimal gravity here -- they float as much as stand. As Daggs secures the door, Styles lofts himself to the other end -- the end open to space -- and keeps thumbing the R.R.U. The drone ship is coming -- but slowly, so goddamn slowly. 268 INT. FOUNDRY DOCKING PORT As the Newbreed crawls over the lip of the platform. 269 INT. FOUNDRY AIRLOCK Daggs peers back into the foundry. Can't see anything. Stoops to double-check the lock just as something shatters the window, nearly decapitating him. 270 INT. FOUNDRY DOCKING PORT The Newbreed sees them. All three. Trapped together in one tight little space. Frenzied, it begins shredding the airlock door. 271 INT. FOUNDRY AIRLOCK The door is collapsing. Only seconds before the Newbreed is inside... 272 EXT. SPACE STATION - NIGHT And the ship is still 200 yards away. 273 INT. FOUNDRY AIRLOCK Styles shuts down the R.R.U., freezing the ship. Now he grabs Packard and Daggs, pulling them to the mouth of the airlock, slamming their three helmets together. STYLES Straight shot! Straight! PACKARD (realizing) If we miss, we burn! If we miss -- STYLES Don't miss. As one, they grab the rim of the airlock. Rear back. Aim. Then fling themselves forward... 274 EXT. SPACE ...into naked space. In an EXTREME LONG SHOT, we watch the three white figures glide across the blackness, strung together like wriggling paper dolls. THEIR POV: They approach the ship broadside. Their aim looks good. But is good good enough? Styles tries course-corrections. Nothing works. THEIR POV: Fifty feet...thirty...ten... They're passing too high. Leading, Styles stretches down and gets a glove on the hull. But the glove just slides over the curvature, finding no purchase. Packard reaches for the ship's antenna. She snags it -- but it breaks off in her hand. THEIR POV: Of Earth. Waiting to incinerate them. Abruptly they jerk to a stop: Daggs got a hand on the needle-nose. They made the ship. 275 INT. DRONE SHIP Hatch opens. The three survivors drift-tumble in. Atmosphere and gravity machines kick in as soon as the hatch is closed. They sink to the deck. For moments, we hear only PANTING RESPIRATORS. Then Daggs, hearing a new sound, turns to look. Styles is laughing. Laughing in his helmet, laughing like a man who just scammed Death. Packard finds it infectious -- especially when she spots the broken antenna still in her grasp. Daggs stands, leaving them to roll around on deck. And just when their life-affirming laughter peaks... DAGGS Hey. Hey. He's looking out the hatch porthole. DAGGS' POV: The space station is dying, listing badly, rocked by silent explosions. But against that backdrop, something moves toward us. Just debris? Styles and Packard crowd in to see. 276 EXT. SPACE It's the Newbreed, clawing and slashing through space. It's coming fast. And its aim looks dead-fucking-on. 277 INT. DRONE SHIP DAGGS Doesn't it breathe? For Chrissake, doesn't it need any fuckin' air? PACKARD It'll come through the hull. It'll burn its way right through unless... Styles is already at the console. Rescanning instruments. Hitting "MANUAL OVERRIDE": An instrument housing flips up. Among the switches is a control-stick. 278 EXT. DRONE SHIP The Newbreed braces for contact. NEWBREED'S POV: Of the bow of the ship turning...turning...turning... until the needle-nose points right at VIEW. Futilely, the Newbreed tries to backpedal in space. 279 INT. DRONE SHIP Eyes on the viewscreen, Styles brings a fist down on the main-engine switch. 280 EXT. DRONE SHIP Thrusters fire. NEWBREED'S POV: Of the ship lurching at VIEW. It's a heart-shot: The needle of the ship bores through the Newbreed Alien, first impaling it, then splitting it open. Pieces of the beast tumble for different corners of the universe. SLOW DISSOLVE TO: 281 EXT. SPACE - EARTH DAWN The drone ship drifts. FOREGROUND, the bow of a huge cutter appears. RESCUE VOICE Drone ship, this is ICC Cutter 27, Marshalls' Division. Do you read? Over. DAGGS (V.O.) Uh, yeah. Block Officer Daggs here. Over. RESCUE VOICE Pulling alongside momentarily, Officer Daggs. How many survivors aboard? DAGGS (V.O.) Three. Just three of us. RESCUE VOICE Identify others, please. DAGGS (V.O.) Well, there's Christine Packard, the station D.P. And then there's Styles. He's, uh... A beat. MURMURED VOICES. RESCUE VOICE Sorry, didn't copy that. More MURMURING as a decision is reached -- one not popular with Daggs, but one he'll try to live with. DAGGS (V.O.) Styles. I guess he's just one of the med-techs. RESCUE VOICE Good enough, Officer Daggs. Prepare for docking. The cutter powers ahead, moving to intercept. We take it as our cue to... FADE OUT THE END