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ALIEN (project formerly titled STARBEAST)

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



DAY: Abruptly the ship CLEARS THE TOP OF THE CLOUD LAYER AND BURSTS OUT INTO STAR-SPRINKLED SPACE, trailing a wake of dust behind it.

BRIDGE: They all CHEER.

ROBY (pounds his panel): We made it! Damn, we made it!

STANDARD: You bet we made it. Martin, set course for Irth and accelerate us into stardrive.

ROBY: With great pleasure.

Roby begins to punch buttons.

MELKONIS: I feel like an escapee from Hell.

SHIP AT LIGHT SPEED - LATER: The ship's speed is so great that there is perceptible movement in the universe all around. There is a strange corona effect which causes the stars approaching the ship to appear blue, and the receding ones to be red. This is redshift, made visible because of their incredible velocity.

BRIDGE: They are unstrapping.

ROBY: That's the part that always makes me feel like I'm gonna puke -- when we accelerate into light speed.

STANDARD: Quit complaining; we're in space.

They rise and head out of the room.

CORRIDOR: As they walk along.

STANDARD: I think the best thing to do with Broussard is to just freeze him as he is. It'll arrest the progress of his disease, and he can get complete medical attention when we get back to the Colonies.

ROBY: We'll have to go into quarantine, maybe for quite a while.

STANDARD: That's okay, he can remain in hypersleep until they're ready to treat him.

They enter the infirmary.

INFIRMARY: As they enter the room, THEY ARE SHOCKED TO SEE BROUSSARD SITTING UP in BED -- AWAKE.

BROUSSARD (hoarsely): ... Mouth's so dry... can I have some water...

Instantly, Roby brings him a plastic cup of water. Broussard gulps it down in a swallow.

BROUSSARD (CONT'D): More.

Roby quickly fills a much bigger container and hands it to Broussard, who greedily consumes the entire thing. Then he sags, panting, on the bunk.

STANDARD (softly): How do you feel, Dell?

BROUSSARD (weakly): Wretched. What happened to me?

STANDARD: Don't you remember?

BROUSSARD: Don't remember nothing. Can't hardly remember my name.

ROBY: Are you in pain?

BROUSSARD: Not exactly, just feel like somebody's been beating me with rubber hoses for about six years.

Melkonis laughs at this remark. Broussard smiles faintly at him.

STANDARD: Hell, you're in great shape, you've got your sense of humor back!

BROUSSARD: God I'm hungry.

ROBY: Dell, what's the last thing you can remember?

BROUSSARD: ... I don't know...

ROBY: Do you remember the pyramid?

BROUSSARD: No. Just some horrible dreams about smothering. Where are we?

STANDARD: We're going home. We're in hyperspace.

MELKONIS: We're going into the freezers now.

BROUSSARD: I'm really starving; can we get some food before we go into the freezers?

STANDARD (laughs): I think that's a pretty reasonable request.

MULTI-PURPOSE ROOM: The entire crew is seated around the table, eating huge portions greedily. The cat eats from a dish on the table.

HUNTER: Boy do I feel a lot better. It's a straight shot back to the Colonies, and then we can start taking bids on the paydirt. Any bets on the top bid?

FAUST (chewing): Well, we should at least be able to each buy our own planet.

They all CHUCKLE.

MELKONIS: I'm going to write a book about this expedition. I'm going to call it "The Snark Log."

STANDARD (stiffly): The commander normally has first publication rights.

MELKONIS: Maybe we could write it together.

ROBY: First thing I'm going to do when we get back is eat some biological food.

MELKONIS: What's the matter, you don't like this stuff?

ROBY: Tastes like something you'd feed a chicken to make it lay more eggs.

STANDARD: Oh it's okay. I've had better cag than this, but I've had worse too, if you know what I mean.

FAUST: I kind of like it.

ROBY: You like this shit?

FAUST: It grows on you.

ROBY: You know what they make this stuff out of?

FAUST (annoyed): Yes, I know what they make it out of, so what? It's food now. You're eating it.

ROBY: I didn't say it was bad for you, it's just kind of sickening, that's all.

HUNTER: Do we have to talk about this kind of crap at the dinner table?

Suddenly, unexpectedly, BROUSSARD GRIMACES AND GROANS.

STANDARD: What's wrong?

BROUSSARD (his voice straining): I don't know... I'm getting these CRAMPS!

The others stare at him in alarm. Another GROAN is torn from his lips. He clutches the edge of the table with his hands, his knuckles whitening.

STANDARD: Breathe deeply.

BROUSSARD (screaming): OH GOD IT HURTS SO BAD!

ROBY: What Dell -- what?

Broussard's face is screwed up into a mask of agony, and he is trembling violently from head to foot.

BROUSSARD (incoherent shriek): OhmygooaaAAAHHHHH!!!


A RED SMEAR OF BLOOD BLOSSOMS ON THE CHEST OF BROUSSARD'S TUNIC. THEIR EYES ARE ALL RIVETTED TO BROUSSARD'S CHEST AS THE FABRIC OF HIS TUNIC IS RIPPED OPEN, AND A HORRIBLE NASTY LITTLE HEAD THE SIZE OF A MAN'S FIST PUSHES OUT. Everybody SCREAMS and leaps back from the table. The cat spits and bolts.

The disgusting little head lunges, comes spurting out of Broussard's chest trailing a thick, wormlike tail -- splattering fluids and blood -- lands in the middle of the dishes and food on the table -- and scurries away while the men are stampeding for safe ground. When they finally regain control of themselves, it has escaped. Broussard lies slumped in his chair, a huge hole in his chest, spouting blood. The dishes are scattered and the food is covered with blood and slime.

HUNTER: Oh, no. Oh, no.

FAUST: What was that? What the Christ was that?

MELKONIS: It was growing in him the whole time and he didn't even know it!

Slowly, they gather around Broussard's gutted corpse.

ROBY: That thing used him for an incubator!


SHIP - OUTER SPACE: A hatch slides open on the side of the ship, and Broussard's wrapped body tumbles silently out. AN ELECTRONIC BASS DRUM BEATS A DIRGE as Broussard drifts into eternity.

CORRIDORS: The entire remaining crew is walking toward the bridge.

MELKONIS: We can't go into hypersleep with that thing running around loose.

HUNTER: We'd be sitting ducks in the freezers.

ROBY: But we can't kill it. If we kill it, it will spill all its body acids right through our hull and out into space.

FAUST: Shit...

STANDARD: We'll have to catch it and eject it from the ship.

MELKONIS (sighs): Well, I kind of hate to point it out, but all our supplies are based on us spending a strictly limited amount of time out of suspended animation... and as you know, we used up most of that time in harvesting.

STANDARD: We've got about a week left, right?

HUNTER: And then we run out of food and oxygen.

FAUST: The water will still recycle.

ROBY: We won't need it then.

STANDARD: All right, so that's what we've got. A week. It's plenty of time.

ROBY: But if we haven't caught it in a week, then we have to go into the freezers anyway.

They enter the bridge.

BRIDGE / STANDARD: So does anybody have any suggestions?

FAUST: We could put on our pressure suits and blow all the air out of the ship. That would kill it.

STANDARD: No, we can't afford to lose that much oxygen. We're going to have to flush it out.

MELKONIS: How?

STANDARD: Room by room, corridor by corridor. No one likes this thought.

MELKONIS: And what do we do when we find it?

STANDARD: We'll have to trap it somehow. If we had a really strong piece of net, we could bag it.

FAUST: We could cut a section out of that metallite netting. It won't hold up to that acid, but aside from that it's pretty strong.

ROBY: We have to avoid injuring it. What we really need is some electric animal prods.

HUNTER: I think I could cobble something together. A long metal rod with a battery in it. Give it a hell of a shock.

STANDARD: Good. Get on it. But first, I'm issuing a standing order: from this moment forth, every one of us will wear protective garments, including helmets. Let's get down to the locker and change.

They start for the exit.

OUTER SPACE: The SNARK continues on its way through the weird vortex of hyperspace.

CORRIDORS IN SHIP: Standard is walking purposefully along the corridor, alone. He is garmented in an unusual outfit which makes him look like a riot policeman, including clear plastic helmet. He reaches a corner and turns. But this new passageway has a different gravity orientation -- Standard seems to be walking down a vertical wall. He makes yet another disorienting turn, and now he is walking upside- down. He reaches a set of steps and climbs up them -- or rather, down them.



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