They move over to another door, which is closed. They ready themselves as Hudson kicks it in. Vasquez is first in, then Hudson with a growl. Inside, a gerbil runs around in its cage, totally unaware of what has and what is going on around it.
VASQUEZ: Good one, Hudson.
HUDSON: Uh, sir, we have a negative...
INT. HOLD - APC
HUDSON (voice over, filtered): ...situation here. Uh, movin' on, sir.
Gorman watches Hudson's camera as it shows the little animal running in its cage. He eases up.
INT. SECOND LEVEL - QUARTERS: Finishing their sweep of the damaged rooms, Hicks looks at a half-eaten donut beside a coffee cup overflowing with rainwater.
INT. HOLD - APC: Ripley is watching Hicks' monitor, when she sees something important on it.
RIPLEY: Wait! Wait, tell him to... (picks up a headset) Hicks. Backup. Pan right. There.
The image shifts, revealing a section of floor that has been melted away in an irregular pattern. We see Hicks kneeling by the holes from Drake's P.O.V..
HICKS: You seeing this all right? Looks melted. Somebody must have bagged one of Ripley's bad guys here.
Ripley looks over at Burke.
BURKE: Acid from blood.
INT. FIRST LEVEL: We see Hudson from Vasquez's P.O.V.. He is looking up at something.
HUDSON: If you like that, you're gonna' love this...
WIDER: Showing the trooper standing beneath a gaping hole. Another hole, directly beneath, is at his feet. The acid has melted right down through two levels into the maintenance level.
Hudson leans over the hole and spits into it. It drops for a long way down into blackness. Vasquez playfully nudges him toward the hole. Hudson jumps back.
HUDSON: Quit screwing around!
APONE (into headset): Second squad, what's your status?
HICKS (voice over): We just finished our sweep. Nobody's home.
APONE: Roger. Sir...uh, this place is dead. Whatever happened here, I think we missed it.
INT. HOLD - APC: CLOSE-UP ON GORMAN at the APC monitors.
GORMAN: Alright, the area's secure. Let's go in and see what their computer can tell us.
RIPLEY: Wait a minute. The area's not secure...
GORMAN: The area's secure, Ripley. First team, head to operations...
INT. FIRST LEVEL: CLOSE-UP ON HUDSON and VASQUEZ in the colony corridor.
GORMAN (voice over, filtered): ...Hudson, see if you can get their CPU on line.
INT. HOLD - APC: CLOSE-UP ON GORMAN at the APC monitors.
GORMAN: Hicks, meet me at the South Lock. We're coming in.
HICKS (voice over, filtered): Roger.
INT. FIRST LEVEL: CLOSE-UP ON HUDSON and VASQUEZ in the colony corridor. HUDSON covers his helmet microphone while looking at VASQUEZ.
HUDSON: He's coming in. I feel safer already.
VASQUEZ (sotto voice): Pendejo jerk off.
EXT. COLONY COMPLEX: The APC rolls down a deserted street of the complex and stops at the South Lock. Frost and Hicks emerge from the lock. The APC's CREW DOOR slides back and Gorman emerges, followed by Burke and Ripley.
HUDSON (voice over, filtered): Sir, the CPU is on-line. No problem.
GORMAN: Good. Stand-by in operations.
GORMAN: Okay, let's go.
The group head for the lock and meet up with the troopers. Bishop exits from the other side of the APC and runs over to the group. They proceed into the complex.
Ripley stops just before entering the building, hesitating about go in. The rain pours down on her, soaking her and matting down her hair.
Hicks and Frost notice that Ripley has stopped. Hicks turns and moves back to her.
HICKS: Are you all right?
Ripley moves past them into the complex. The soldiers follow. The large doors of the lock whine close and shut with a bang.
INT. CORRIDOR: Gorman emerges from a hole in a barricade blocking the corridor, a hastily-welded wall of pipes, steel-plate, outer-door panels and machinery. Acid-holes have slashed through floor and walls in several places. The metal is scratched and twisted by hideously powerful forces, peeled back like a soup can on one side. The rest of group emerge after him.
Drake comes up the corridor to meet them.
DRAKE: They sealed off this wing at both ends. Welded the doors and blocked off the stairs with heavy equipment.
GORMAN: Uh huh.
Ripley comes through the barrier, wide eyed and tense. The group slowly moves up the corridor.
DRAKE: But, it looks like the barricade didn't hold.
GORMAN: Any bodies?
DRAKE: No, sir.
FROST: Last stand. Must have been a helluva’ fight.
HICKS: Yeah. Looks that way.
GORMAN: Alright. Drake...this way. We should be able to cut through the Med-Lab to Operations.
INT. MED-LAB: The soldiers' pack-lights play over the devastation of the colonists' last ditch battle. The equipment of the Med-Labs has been uprooted to add to the barrier. But, a lot of it is still in place and intact. The blue lighting in the rooms causes lots of unwanted shadows. Burke touches Gorman, pointing him to something across the room. The others follow.
TIGHT ON RIPLEY: Transfixed by something. The others approach, seeing what she sees. She has stopped at the door of a second room, part of the Med-Labs area.
In a storage alcove, at near eye-level, stand six transparent cylinders filled with liquid, each lit from beneath. Statis Tubes. They seem to contain large severed arthritic hands, the palsied fingers curled in a death-rictus. Hicks comes up behind Ripley and looks in the room from the doorway.
HICKS: Lieutenant. Gorman!
Gorman comes over. Hicks and Gorman move passed Ripley into the room. Burke and Bishop follow closely.
BURKE (to Ripley): Are these the same ones?
Ripley nods, unable to speak. Burke walks over and leans close to one of the cylinders in fascination, his face almost touching it...
RIPLEY: Careful, Burke!
The creature inside lunges suddenly, slamming against the glass. Burke, jumps back. So does everyone else. From the "palm" of the thing's body emerges a pearlescent tubule, which slithers tongue-like over the inside of the glass.
HICKS: Looks like love at first sight to me.
WIDE ANGLE ON BISHOP and GORMAN staring at the o.s. active facehugger in the tube.
HICKS (voice over): Oh, he likes you, Burke.
BISHOP picks up a file-folder from between two of the dead specimen tanks.
BISHOP: Two are alive, the rest are dead.
BISHOP flicks through the file-folder’s pages. Inside is a medical chart printout with hand-written entries.
BISHOP (reading): Surgically removed before embryo implantation. Subject: Marachuk, John J. Died during the procedure. (looking up) They killed him taking it off.
They are all startled by a loud beeping. Hicks' motion tracker, being held by Frost, comes to life. Something is moving in its scanning range. BEEP. BEEP.
FROST: Yo, Hicks! I think we got something here.
They all come up to look closely at the tracker.
HICKS: Behind us.
RIPLEY: One of us?
GORMAN (into headset): Apone...where are your people? Anybody in D-Block?
APONE (voice over, filtered): That's a negative. We're all in Operations.
Drake moves up ahead of the group. Frost falls in next to him. They all start heading toward the source of the signal. Drake keeping his smart-gun aimed ahead at all times.
DRAKE: Talk to me, Frosty.
FROST: Just keep moving baby.
As the soldiers round an array of complicated equipment, Gorman accidentally knocks over a metal canister, sending it clanging. Ripley jumps like a cat. She looks at Gorman and moves on.
HICKS: It's moving.
DRAKE: Which way?
FROST: It's coming straight for us. Straight up.
INT. MED-LAB - CORRIDOR: The team move into an adjoining corridor. Hicks' tracker beeps rapidly.
CLOSE-UP: The tracker’s screen shows the object moving closer. It counts down the feet till contact. Something moves in the dark, jumping across the corridor.
ON DRAKE: Pivoting smoothly to fire. In the same instant, Hicks' rifle slashes into frame, slamming Drake's barrel upward. A stream of tracer fire rips into the ceiling.
DRAKE: You fuck!
HICKS: Hold up! Ripley.
He motions her forward. Trusting his judgment, she comes up beside him.
They crouch down by a row of steel cabinets and Hicks aims his light under them.
RIPLEY'S P.O.V.: Lit by Hicks' pack-light...a tiny cowering figure. A very dirty, very terrified Newt Jorden. She grips the head of a large doll, holding it by the hair. Just the head.
RIPLEY: Hey, shhhhh. It's alright. Come on.
Hicks begins reaching under the cabinets to grab her. Newt inches away each time he comes to close.
GORMAN: Just grab her, Corporal.
RIPLEY: Don't be afraid. Come on. We won’t hurt you. Shhhh, it's alright. It's okay. Come on out. Come on. Easy. Easy.