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ALIEN (project formerly titled STARBEAST)

Story by Dan O'Bannon & Ronald Shusett | Screenplay by Dan O'Bannon | 1976



PLANETOID - DAY: The three men push their way through the storm. Melkonis stops again, studies the direction finder.

MELKONIS: It's close, real close.

STANDARD: How far?

MELKONIS: We should be almost on top of it. I just can't quite...

Suddenly, Broussard grabs Standard's arm and points. The others stare in the direction he is pointing. REVERSE ANGLE - THEIR POINT-OF-VIEW Through the dense clouds of swirling dust we can just barely make out some kind of HUGE SHAPE. As we watch, the dust clears slightly, REVEALING A GROTESQUE SHIP RISING FROM THE SHIP LIKE SOME GIGANTIC TOADSTOOL. It is clearly of non-human manufacture. ANGLE ON THE MEN They are struck dumb by the sight of the craft. Finally, Standard finds his voice.

STANDARD: Martin, uh, we've found it.

ROBY (sharply -- over, filtered): Found what?

STANDARD It appears to be some sort of spacecraft. We're going to approach it.

They start toward the alien ship.

BRIDGE / STANDARD (CONT'D) (over, filtered): There are no signs of life. No lights... no movement...

Roby and Hunter are listening with hypnotic concentration.

STANDARD (CONT'D) (over, filtered): We're, uh, approaching the base.


BASE OF TOADSTOOL SHIP: A strangely shaped DOOR yawns open at the base of the ship. Dust and sand have blown in, filling the lower part of the entrance. With great caution, the men approach the entrance and group around it.

STANDARD (CONT'D): Appears to be a door hanging open, the entrance is clogged with debris.

BROUSSARD: Looks like a derelict.

STANDARD: Martin, we're going in. I'm going to hold the conversation to a minimum from here on.


ALIEN SHIP: The doorway is a glowing geometric blur of light against blackness, spewing dust. In the darkness of the chamber are huge, formless shapes. Standard, Broussard and Melkonis appear silhouetted against the doorway. They switch on flashlight-like devices called "DATASTICKS", and step in. Carefully, peering around, they pick their way past the indistinct machinery.

MELKONIS: Air lock?

STANDARD: Who knows?

BROUSSARD: Let's try and find the control room.

As they move their lights around, they can see that the walls, ceiling, and machinery are FULL OF HUGE, IRREGULAR HOLES.

MELKONIS: Look at these holes. This place looks like Swiss cheese.

Broussard shines his light up into a huge hole in the ceiling.

BROUSSARD: This hole goes up several decks -- looks like somebody was firing a military disintegrator in here.

They all peer up the hole into darkness.

STANDARD: Climbing gear.

Standard draws out a stubby spear gun with a graplon attached to it. He aims it up into the hole and fires. The graplon is launched up into darkness, trailing a thin wire. There is a dull CLUNK, and the wire dangles.

BROUSSARD: I'll go first.

STANDARD: No, you'll follow me.

Standard attaches the wire to a powered gear box on his chest, and presses a button. With a mechanical whine, he is pulled up into the hole, using his feet for leverage where he can. Broussard attaches the wire to his own chest unit.

CONTROL ROOM OF ALIEN SHIP: This chamber is totally dark as Broussard arrives at the top of the hole. Standard stands with his flashlight/camera ("datastick") tracing a beam through the hanging dust. Broussard unclips himself from the climbing wire, then raises his own light. At that moment, Melkonis arrives at the top of the hole. THEIR LIGHTS SCAN THE ROOM. The beams are clearly visible as columns of light in the floating dust. They reveal heavy, odd shapes.


Broussard stumbles over something. He shines his light down on it. It is a large, glossy urn, brown in color, with peculiar markings. Broussard stands it upright. It has a round opening in the top, and is empty. Suddenly, Melkonis lets out a grunt of shock. Their lights have illuminated something unspeakably grotesque: A HUGE ALIEN SKELETON, SEATED IN THE CONTROL CHAIR. They approach the skeleton, their lights trained on it. IT IS A GROTESQUE THING, BEARING NO RESEMBLANCE TO THE HUMAN FORM.

MELKONIS: Holy Christ...

Standard shines his light on the console at which the hideous skeleton is seated. He moves his light closer and peers at the panel.

STANDARD: Look at this...

They approach.

STANDARD (CONT'D): Something has been scratched here... into the veneer. See?

Traced raggedly onto the surface of the panel, as by the point of a sharp instrument, is a small triangle: Hearing something, Broussard flashes his light across the room. As the beam scans the walls, it briefly touches on SOMETHING THAT MOVES. Melkonis convulsively yanks out his pistol.

MELKONIS: LOOK OUT, IT MOVED!

Standard knocks his hand down.

STANDARD: Keep away from that gun!

Standard shoulders himself in front of the others. Then, slowly, he begins to move toward the far side of the room. They approach a console on the wall, training their lights on it. There is a machine. On the machine, a small bar moves steadily back and forth, sliding noiselessly in its grooves.

STANDARD (CONT'D): Just machinery.

BROUSSARD: But functioning.

Melkonis looks down at his direction finder.

MELKONIS: That's where the transmission is coming from.

He throws a switch on the direction finder -- with a crackle and a hum, the UNEARTHLY VOICE fills their earphones.

BROUSSARD: A recording. A damned automatic recording.

PLANETOID - SUNSET: SINISTER ANGLE ON THE SNARK. As we watch, the sunlight turns the color of blood, and then the sun is down, leaving murky blackness in its wake. The ring of floodlights on the ship flares into life, feebly combatting the darkness and the storm.

MULTI-PURPOSE ROOM: The entire crew is seated around the conference table, watching holographic pictures projected onto a screen. These are photos taken by their "datasticks" (flashlight/cameras). Standard is commenting on the changing slides.

STANDARD: ... This is the control room...

Two or three pictures click onto the screen in succession, showing the suited men standing against banks of machinery.

STANDARD (CONT'D): ... Some details of the control room...

The SKELETON appears on the screen. The men react with mutters.

STANDARD (CONT'D): ... This is the skeleton... another view of the skeleton... the transmitting device...

The triangle that was cut into the alien's console appears.

STANDARD (CONT'D): ... This is a closeup of the triangle we found scrawled on the console in front of the skeleton...

Standard changes the slide. The screen goes white.

STANDARD (CONT'D): ... And that's it.

He turns off the projector and brings the lights up.

HUNTER: Phenomenal. Staggering.

BROUSSARD: We've got to go back and take a lot more pictures, holograph everything.

MELKONIS: And bring back as much physical evidence as possible, too. The rest of the skeleton. Some of the machinery. Written records, if there are any.

Roby is slumped in his chair. He has said nothing.

STANDARD: Martin?

ROBY: I agree. This is the single most important discovery in history.

STANDARD: But?

ROBY: What killed it?

BROUSSARD: Hell, that thing's been dead for years. Maybe hundreds of years. The whole planet's dead.

FAUST: The way I figure it, they landed here for repairs or something, then they couldn't take off again. Maybe the dust ruined their engines. They set up an S.O.S. beacon, but nobody came. So they died.

ROBY: He died.

FAUST: What?

ROBY: Not they... he...


They all turn to look in the direction of Roby's nod. CAMERA MOVES OVER TO REVEAL THE ALIEN SKULL SITTING ON A TABLE.

ROBY (CONT'D): ... There was only one skeleton.

There is a moment of silence.

STANDARD: Jay... how's it coming on the repairs?

FAUST: Well... I'm going to have to blow the engines out...

STANDARD: And when will you be ready to do that?

FAUST: Oh -- I'm not near ready yet.

STANDARD: Then why the hell are you sitting around here?

FAUST: Right.

The men rise and begin to disperse, but Roby remains seated, deep in thought, staring at the skull. Melkonis lingers in the room with him.

MELKONIS: And there sits man's first contact with intelligent life in the universe.

SHIP - NIGHT: ANGLE ON THE SHIP, its spotlights cutting into the gloom.

ENGINE ROOM: A room throbbing with power, enormous pulsing engines capable of releasing unimaginable energies. Faust has a complicated arrangement set up at the base of one of the engines, with spotlights on it. He is wearing goggles and thin gloves.

FAUST: You ready up there?

BRIDGE: Broussard and Melkonis are seated at their consoles, conversing with Faust while they watch their instruments.

BROUSSARD: Sure, we're ready.

ENGINE ROOM / FAUST: Okay. I'm going to start the extraction procedure now.

He pauses to wipe his brow.

MULTI-PURPOSE ROOM: Roby is alone in the room, slumped into a chair, watching the photographic slides on the screen. He is clicking slowly through them. He stops on an angle of the skeleton, and stares at it. The alien's misshapen skull is sitting on the table next to him. He picks it up, holds it up to the screen for comparison, and studies it. Standard appears in the doorway.

STANDARD: Alas, poor Yorick.

Roby STARTS, puts down the skull. Standard sits at the table.

STANDARD (CONT'D) (nodding at the screen): Find anything we missed?

ROBY (shrugs): I don't even know what I'm looking for.

STANDARD: Still worried?

ROBY: Oh well... you know me.

STANDARD: I've always respected your opinion, Martin. If something worries you, it worries me.

Roby reaches over and changes the slide, to the one of the CRUDELY DRAWN TRIANGLE ON THE ALIEN CONTROL PANEL.

ROBY: What would you say that was supposed to mean?

STANDARD: Well... it's obviously intentional... some kind of attempt at communication... maybe it's a symbol that means something to them...

ROBY: But why draw it on the wall?

Roby switches off the projector, sits up, and rubs his face wearily. He rises and goes to the coffee machine.

ROBY (CONT'D) (picking a hair out of the coffeepot): This ship is full of cat hair.

STANDARD: Tell you what, Martin. As soon as the engine's fixed --

BEEP! The communicator interrupts Standard. He leans across and presses the button.

STANDARD (CONT'D): This is Chaz.

BROUSSARD (over, filtered): Chaz, this is Dell. Can you come topside for a minute?

STANDARD: What's up?

BROUSSARD (over, filtered): Well, the sun just came up again, and it seems the wind's died down. It's as clear as a bell outside. There's something I think you ought to see.

STANDARD: I'm on my way.

He and Roby head for the door.

BRIDGE - DAY: Broussard is alone in the control room when Standard and Roby arrive.

STANDARD: What is it?

BROUSSARD: Take a look.

SHIP: The dust no longer blows. The day is crisp, clear, and silent.

BRIDGE / BROUSSARD: I was scanning the horizon to see what I could pick up. Look there, on that screen.

STANDARD: What is it, I can't --

BLIP! Broussard enlarges the image. The screen now shows a TAPERING STONE PYRAMID on the horizon. They all stare at the image for a long moment. The silhouette of the PYRAMID IS INSTANTLY SUGGESTIVE OF THE SCRAWLED TRIANGLE in the alien ship. Standard presses the nearest communicator and speaks into the grille.

STANDARD: This is Chaz. All hands topside. Now.



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