Alien 3 script
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Pages: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 Next page man ipulators for this. She hands him something wrapped in a sheet of white printout held with a rubber band. He removes the band, unrolls the paper. The canister. Number 17. SPENCE (continuing) What the hell did happen on the ship, Tully? How come all the biopsy work on those three? and his very quiet sudden backlog of autopsy material? How come it's all triple-classified? What's going on? We had these two spooks from Gateway in here today acted like they just bought the place... TULLY (with a nervous glance around the lab) Okay, okay... But later, okay? Not here... DISSOLVE TO: INT. TISSUE CULTURE LAB Tully at the controls of a pair of high-tech servo-manipulators visible thro ugh the tick glass of an ultra-heavy duty rectangular tank. The controls are gloves. A cable leads from the wrist of each glove to the face of the tanks. Tully move his hands, testing. The skeletal steels waldos inside the tank mimic each move. He uses them to open the canister. An electronic microscope is built into the tank, its monitor just above the window. He positions the probe's tip under the microscope. ANGLE OVER TOP OF MONITOR for his reaction. TULLY Spence... What is this? Where did it come from? Spence strolls up behind his with a cup of coffee, a pen tucked behind her ear. SPENCE C'mon, Charlie, don't you read the spec sheets anymore? It's off the shop. Off your transport. It's... God. SPENCE'S POV -- CLOSE ON THE MONITOR The tip of the probe is encased in a sheath of glittering back filigree. ANGLE SPENC E Up the rez... Tully taps a lapboard; magnifications increases by twenty powers. EXTREME CLOSEUP -- MONITOR As the screen fills with an image that might be a bizarre landscape, its lines and textures recalling the interior of the derelict ship in "ALIEN." DISSOLVE TO: INT. ECO-MODULE An experimental pocket Eden: a half-acre of artfully ragged concrete Disneyland into lush rainforest, sun-dappled miniature meadows, patches of African cactus. Newt crouches in long grass, her hand extended toward a small animal. A lemur. Hicks stands nearby. NEWT Have you been there, Hicks? Africa? HICKS Morocco. Four weeks of Basic. But was mountains. Not like this. The lemur scoots away, spooked by his voice; Newt watches as it scurries up a tree. NEWT I'd like to go there ... HICKS No problem. You're going to Gateway station on Sulaco, right? Then you catch a shuttle down and you're in Oregon. Just a jump over a puddle, to Africa, once you're there. Spence walks out of the miniature jungle, carrying a white wire tray of samples in plastic lab bottles. NEWT I don't remember them... SPENCE Your grandparents? Newt nods. SPENCE (continuing) Well, guess they remember you. Sure. NEWT But what if Ripley wakes up and I'm not here? Can't I wait? HICKS Hey. She'll know where you're going, right? Anyway, Sulaco's the only ship back to Gateway for two months. But look, you w ant to make double sure, then you leave her a map, exactly where you're going... Spence grins at Hicks. INT. NEWT'S DORM CUBICLE Newt at a fold-down desk, at work on an elaborate multicolor feltpen starmap. A dotted line zigzags from Anchorpoint to Portland, Oregon. She carefully prints her new address: NEWT JORDEN c/o MR. & MRS. RICHARD JORDEN 34877 GREENLEAF AVE. #582 NEW PORTLAND, OREGON AB994J2 Ripley wan and comatose. Hicks waits awkwardly in the doorway, dangling Newt's knapsack, as she enters and tapes the finished starmap to the wall; the first thing Ripley would see, waking. Newt beside the bed, look down at her friend. NEWT Ripley? Ripley, it's Newt. I... I gotta go now. I'm going to stay with my grandparents, in Oregon. Hicks says that's a good place... There's a map for you, Riple y, how to get there. You can come there and stay with me, okay? You have to, okay? Tears on her cheeks as Hicks puts his hand on her shoulder and they leave the room. INT. DEPARTURE BAY Newt and Hicks amid a bustle of power-loaders, assorted robot vehicles. They approach the entrance to a narrow corridor. Sign: DEPARTURE BAY -- CREW ONLY BEYOND THIS POINT. HICKS That's you. NEWT I know. HICKS Good luck in Oregon. He holds the red knapsack as she slips into the straps. NEWT Hicks... HICKS Yeah? She look at him: ghost of a grin. She gives him the thumbs-up sign. NEWT Affirmative. He returns the sign HICKS Affirmative. She turns and makes her way up the narrow boarding corridor. It's long, tapers to nothing. Tiny figure, receding, bright dot of the knapsack. She turns, waves. He waves back. She's gone. EXT. ANCHORPOINT Sulaco pulls away, begins to accelerate, dwindles against the stars. DISSOLVE TO: INT. RODINA -- CONFERENCE CHAMBER |
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