Alien: Resurrection Page #6

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VRIESS:

I'm patched in. Check the sequence timer.

(no answer)

Call?

ANGLE:
THE CONTROLS

A hand reaches in toward the ON switch.

ANGLE:
VRIESS

VRIESS:

Call?

The thresher GRINDS TO LIFE -- a hundred blades and claws spinning at

Vriess's head!

Vriess wheels out from under the machine in a second flat.

VRIESS:

Goddamnit!

The second he's out he hits a lever and the back of the dolly flies up,

transforming it-into a wheelchair.

VRIESS Johner! You son of a whore!

JOHNER jumps down from the machine, laughing. He's thickset, mean and

ugly, with ugly scars crisscrossing his ugly bald head.

Thought I'd give you a little haircut there.

VRIESS:

You f***!

Call, who has been over on the other side of the thresher, ably climbs

up on it and switches it off.

JOHNER:

You should see your face. Vriess, you must have soiled yourself.

VRIESS One of these days I'm gonna kill you. My hand to God.

JOHNER:

Well, you already gave him your feet ...

CALL (jumping down)

You're a limp f***ing scrotum, you know that?

JOHNER:

Either of you want a piece of me, I'm less than busy.

VRIESS:

Any time.

CALL:

Vriess. Forget it. He's been sucking down too much homebrew.

JOHNER:

Don't push me, little Annalee. You hang with us a while, you'll learn

I'm not the man with whom to f***.

He exits, full of annoying bravado.

VRIESS:

That inbred cocksucker.

He feels his forehead, comes up with a bit of blood. Realizes how

close it was ...

Call looks up at the thresher.

CALL:

1 hate machines.

VRIESS:

Well, now we know it works ...

CUT TO:
EXT. AURIGA DOCKING BAY

As it opens to admit the proportionally tiny ship. The bay on the

bottom of the Auriga

- the doors are actually OVER the ship, which rises into the airlock.

INT. AIR LOCK

The outer doors close under the ship. Pressurized air shoot into the

airlock for a few seconds, and then the inner door opens. the ship

rising into the bay.

INT. BAY

The ship moves slowly along the huge dock to land gently at far end.

The top of the ship is nearly level with a grated platform that runs

the length of the bay.

Three soldiers in full armour stand rigid on the platform. The hatch

atop the ship slowly opens. One by one the crew files out. Seeing them

en masse, we get a clearer view of what separates them from this

Environment. They're not wearing uniforms. They're an eclectic,

fiercely indivualist group, their look varied -- spots of bright color

showing through militarian space gear. Johner's bright tuorquise

bowling shirt. Elgy's and St Just's floorlength leather dusters. Even

Vriess's chair stands out as he wheels down the platform.

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