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 WALKER (eyes Hicks narrowly) Anytime. INT. OPS ROOM PAN along Jackson's multi-screen array in Operations, video images of various Anchorpoint locales: space-suited figure and robot welders making routine hull repairs. HIGH ANGLE -- THE MALL A buzzer SOUNDS. Screen directly in front of Jackson displays: INCOMING TRANSMISSION SOURCE: U.P.P. RODINA DIPLOMATIC INCRYPT>>> >>>DIPL CORPS SHUMAN Jackson bobs her head, moving the cursor-cap to various "windows" on the screen. JACKSON (speaking into headset mike) Somebody find me Shuman -- tell his we got incoming Rodina coded standard diplomatic. His opposite number must've decided it's time for the weekly bullshit session... INT. ANTI-BUGGING BUBBLE Shuman is seated alone at the round table. A miniature video camera is set up on the table. Opposite him is a lar ge wall screen displaying an image of the U.P.P. Diplomatic Officer, also alone, seated at the far end of the narrow table in the Rodina conference room. SHUMAN Androids, by law, are afforded the status of persons. Citizens. DIPLOMATIC OFFICER Under your system, yes. We prefer to afford them the status of machines. SHUMAN You're holding one of our citizens captive. DIPLOMATIC OFFICER The "citizen" in question, the synthetic, Bishop, has been held in regard to a treaty violation involving an armed vessel. SHUMAN Sulaco was homing on Anchorpoint. The so-called violation was the result of a malfunction. DIPLOMATIC OFFICER The matter is under investigation. SHUMAN I repeat: you are holding one of our citizens. DIPLOMATIC OFFICER The incident is also being investigated with regards to an apparent violations of the Strategic Arms Reductions treaty. SHUMAN Sulaco's weapons-systems fall entirely within the prescribed -- DIPLOMATIC OFFICER I refer to those sections of the treaty concerned with biological warfare. Beat. The U.P.P. Diplomat has just scored, but Shuman maintains his poise. SHUMAN The allegation is false. DIPLOMATIC OFFICER We make no official allegations at this time. The matter remains under investigation. Bishop, however, is of no further use in the inquiry. We are returning him to you. EXT. ANCHORPOINT -- SHUTTLE BAY -- A U.P.P. SHUTTLE docking. They bay closes behind it. (V.O.: STATIC, VOICES of Anchorpoint docking crew.) INT. SHUTTLE BAY Shuman and two Marines enter the bay. They wear biohazard envelopes, masks. The shuttle's hatch opens and the Vietnamese Commando steps out. Bishop emerges. He looks at the Commando, then at Shuman and the Marines waiting at the bottom of the gangway. The Commando gestures: go. SHUMAN You're under quarantine orders, Bishop. (to the Marines) Escort him to MedLab. INT. THE MALL Hicks has just come off shift; the Mall's bar catches his eye. The facade says it all: ye olde pre-packaged genuine simulated wood-grain generic tavern and the only joint in town. One wall is a screen showing a stale rerun of a Brazilian soccer match. Some of the customers play hologram game-consoles. Tully is seated at the bar. Hicks takes a stool beside him. HICKS Beer. He fishes his dog tags out and detaches one, passes it to the bartender; the bartender inserts it in a terminal, rings up the beer, hands it back. TULLY You're Hicks. Sulaco... Tully, in his trademark jacket, is obviously drunk. HICKS Who're you? TULLY Tully. Tech Five. Tissue lab. D-fucking-NA. Jesus... Sulaco... Lucky. HICKS Lucky? Who? You lucky, man? TULLY You. You're one lucky sonofabitch, Hicks. Knocks back his drink. HICKS How's that? TULLY All that way. All the way back here with those... Those fucking things, man... Tully ha s just gotten his sudden, undivided attention. HICKS Things? What things? TULLY Shit... We had to sign. All of us. Lose our fucking shares we tell anybody, right? HICKS (his whole body tense) They were on the ship... TULLY Yeah. Jesus. I saw 'em... Reaches for his glass, but it's empty. HICKS Where? How many? When? TULLY (Suddenly remembering his shares) Look, I... (cuts a glance around the bar) Bad place to talk... I gotta go now, leave... HICKS (grabbing Tully before he can slide off the stool) You aren't going anywhere, buddy. Tully, sudden energy, not so much at Hicks as at his whole situation: TULLY I didn't come out here to work on shit like that. Came out here to help design ecosystems, not build designer for the next year... You want an earful? You got it. Shift after next, place called DP-54, Level 7 map. Can't talk here... He twists out of Hick's grip and into the crowd. Hicks sits at the bar, staring at his untouched beer. |
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