EXT. CONTROL BLOCK - NIGHT: The wind howls mournfully around the metal buildings, dry and cold. One of soldiers raises the storm windows.

INT. OPERATIONS: The weary and demoralized group are gathered to take stock of their grim options. Vasquez and Hudson bring in a box of equipment and place it on a table.

HICKS: That's everything, right?

HUDSON: Yeah.

Hicks begins to go over all the equipment on the table. Telling everyone what is there.

HICKS: All right! This is absolutely everything that we could salvage out of the APC wreckage. We've got four pulse-rifles, with about fifty rounds each. That ain't so good. You got...uh, fifteen of these M-40 grenades. Hicks sets the grenade down on the table. Newt reaches over to pick it up. Hicks stops her.

HICKS: Don't touch that. Dangerous, honey.

RIPLEY: Is that the only flame thrower?

TIGHT-ON HUDSON: He looks very nervous and high-strung.

HICKS (voice over): Yeah. It's only half full, but it's functional...

TIGHT-ON NEWT: She picks up one of the soldiers' helmet's and put it on. Her head disappears into it.

HICKS: ...and another one's damaged. I don't know about that one. But, the good news. We've got four of these robot-sentries...with display and scanners intact. They really kickass. I think they'll come in handy.

RIPLEY: How long after we're declared overdue can we expect a rescue?

TIGHT-ON HICKS: As he looks at Vasquez. She gazes back with a look at loss, but underlying strength as she holds her weapon.

HICKS: Seventeen days.

HUDSON: Seventeen days? Hey, man...I don't want to rain on your parade. But, we're not going to last seventeen hours! Those things are going to come in here, just like they did before, and they're going to come in here...

RIPLEY: Hudson!

HUDSON: ...and they're going to come in here and there going to get us!

RIPLEY: Hudson! This little girl survived longer than that with no weapons and no training. Right?

Ripley indicates Newt, who salutes Hudson smartly.

HUDSON: What?! You put her in charge?!

RIPLEY: You better just start dealing with it, Hudson. Hudson, just deal with it, because we need you and I'm sick of your bullshit. Now, I want you to get on a terminal and call up some kind of floor plan file, do you understand?

HUDSON: Yeah.

RIPLEY: Construction blueprints, I don't care, anything that shows the layout of this place, are you listening?

HUDSON: Yeah.

RIPLEY: I need to see air ducts. I need to see electrical access tunnels, sub-basements. Every possible way into this complex. We don't have much time.

Hudson gathers himself, thankful for the direction.

HUDSON: Okay...okay, I'm on it.

RIPLEY: Hudson! Just relax.

Hudson exhales loudly to prepare himself and leaves the group.

Bishop moves up to the table.

BISHOP: I'll be in Med-Lab. Check on Gorman, continue my analysis.

RIPLEY: Fine. You do that.

She watches him leave. Still unnerved by his presence.