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[pulling out his pump-action shotgun]
Hicks: I like to keep this handy... for close encounters.
Frost: I heard *that.*
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Hudson: They're coming outta the walls. They're coming outta the goddamn walls. Let's book!
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[after making a plan to weld the doors shut and put the sentry units]
Hicks: Outstanding. Now all we need is a deck of cards.
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Gorman: Hicks, meet me at the south lock. We're coming in.
Hicks: Roger.
Hudson: [to Vasquez] He's comin' in. I feel safer already.
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Van Leuwin: Thank you, that will be all.
Ripley: God damn it, that's not all! Because if one of those things gets down here then that will be all! Then all this - this bullshit that you think is so important, you can just kiss all that goodbye!
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Ripley: Well, somebody's gonna have to go out there. Take a portable terminal, go out there and patch in manually.
Hudson: Oh yeah, sure! With those things runnin' around? You can count me out.
Hicks: Yeah I guess we can just count you out of everything, Hudson.
Bishop: [speaking under Hicks] I'll go.
Hudson: That's right, man.
Bishop: I'll go.
Hudson: Hey, why don't you go, man!
Bishop: [more loudly] I'll go.
Ripley: What?
Bishop: I'll go. I mean, I'm the only one qualified to remote-pilot the ship anyway.
Hudson: Yeah right, man, Bishop should go.
[Vasquez looks at Hudson with disgust]
Hudson: Good idea!
Bishop: Believe me, I'd prefer not to. I may be synthetic, but I'm not stupid.
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Ripley: These people are here to protect you. They're soldiers.
Newt: It won't make any difference.
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[On whether she would return to LV-426]
Ripley: Now please leave. I am not going back, and I am... I would not be any good to you if I did.
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Ripley: Lieutenant, what do those pulse rifles fire?
Gorman: 10 millimeter explosive tip caseless. Standard light armor piercing round, why?
Ripley: Well, look where your team is. They're right under the primary heat exchangers.
Gorman: So?
Ripley: So, if they fire their weapons in there, won't they rupture the cooling system?
Burke: [interjecting] Ho, ho, ho. Yeah, she's absolutely right.
Gorman: [turns round to Burke] So? So what?
Burke: Look, this whole station is basically a big fusion reactor...
[Gorman turns back to stare, horrified, at the screen]
Burke: ...right? So you're talkin' about a thermonuclear explosion and "Adiós, muchachos."
Gorman: Oh, great. Wonderful. Shit!
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Drake: Hey, Hicks. Man, you look just like I feel.
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Hicks: We're all in strung out shape, but stay frosty, and alert. We can't afford to let one of those bastards in here.
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Hudson: [puts his rifle against Burke's head] I say we grease this rat-fuck son-of-a-bitch right now.
Hicks: It just doesn't make any goddamn sense.
Ripley: He figured that he could get an alien back through quarantine, if one of us was... impregnated... whatever you call it, and then frozen for the trip home. Nobody would know about the embryos we were carrying... me and Newt.
Hicks: Wait a minute, now... we'd all know.
Ripley: Yes. The only way he could do it is if he sabotaged certain freezers on the way home... namely, yours. Then he could jettison the bodies and make up any story he liked.
Hudson: Fuck. He's dead. You're dog-meat, pal!
Burke: This is so nuts. I mean, listen - listen to what you're saying. It's paranoid delusion. How - It's really sad. It's pathetic.
Ripley: You know, Burke, I don't know which species is worse. You don't see them fucking each other over for a goddamn percentage.
Hicks: All right, we waste him. No offense.
Ripley: No. He's gotta go back.
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Apone: All right, sweethearts, what are you waiting for? Breakfast in bed? Another glorious day in the Corps! A day in the Marine Corps is like a day on the farm. Every meal's a banquet! Every paycheck a fortune! Every formation a parade! I LOVE the Corps!
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Ripley: They cut the power.
Hudson: What do you mean, "*They* cut the power"? How could they cut the power, man? They're animals!
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Hudson: Hey Vasquez, have you ever been mistaken for a man?
Vasquez: No. Have you?
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Hudson: Is this gonna be a standup fight, sir, or another bughunt?
Gorman: All we know is that there's still no contact with the colony, and that a xenomorph may be involved.
Frost: Excuse me sir, a-a what?
Gorman: A xenomorph.
Hicks: It's a bughunt.
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Ferro: Stand by to initiate release sequencer. On my mark. Five. Four.
Hudson: We're on an express elevator to hell; going down!
Ferro: Three. Two. One. Mark.
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Frost: Hot as hell in here.
Hudson: Yeah man, but it's a dry heat!
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Hicks: Remember: short, controlled bursts.
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Newt: My mommy always said there were no monsters - no real ones - but there are.
Ripley: Yes, there are, aren't there?
Newt: Why do they tell little kids that?
Ripley: Most of the time it's true.
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Hudson: Hey, maybe you haven't been keeping up on current events, but we just got our asses kicked, pal!
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[the drop-ship crashes]
Hudson: Well that's great, that's just fuckin' great, man. Now what the fuck are we supposed to do? We're in some real pretty shit now man...
Hicks: Are you finished?
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Hudson: That's it man, game over man, game over! What the fuck are we gonna do now? What are we gonna do?
Burke: Maybe we could build a fire, sing a couple of songs, huh? Why don't we try that?
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Bishop: I'm afraid I have some bad news.
Hudson: Well that's a switch.
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Burke: Ripley? I- You know I expected more from you - I thought you'd be smarter than this.
Ripley: Well, I'm happy to disappoint you.
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Ripley: How long after we're declared overdue can we expect a rescue?
Hicks: [pause] Seventeen days.
Hudson: Seventeen *days?* Hey man, I don't wanna rain on your parade, but we're not gonna last seventeen *hours!* Those things are gonna come in here just like they did before. And they're gonna come in here...
Ripley: Hudson!
Hudson: ...and they're gonna come in here AND THEY'RE GONNA GET US!
Ripley: Hudson! This little girl survived longer than that with no weapons and no training.
[to Newt]
Ripley: Right?
[Newt apes a salute]
Hudson: Why don't you put her in charge?
Ripley: You better just start dealing with it, Hudson! Listen to me! Hudson, just deal with it, because we need you and I'm sick of your bullshit.
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Vasquez: You always were an asshole, Gorman!
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Vasquez: Hey,
[in Spanish]
Vasquez: ¡mira!
[back to English]
Vasquez: Who's Snow White?
Ferro: She's supposed to be some kinda consultant. Apparently she saw an alien once.
Hudson: Whoopee-fuckin'-do. Hey, I'm impressed.
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Hicks: Looks like the new lieutenant's too good to eat with the rest of us grunts.
Frost: Boy's definitely got a corncob up his ass.
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Hudson: Hey top, what's the op?
Apone: It's a rescue mission, you'll love it. There's some juicy colonists' daughters we have to rescue from their virginity. Heh!
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Hudson: Stop your grinnin' and drop your linen!
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Hudson: Man, this floor is freezing.
Apone: What do you want me to do, fetch your slippers for you?
Hudson: Gee, would you sir? I'd like that.
[Apone pulls down the skin under his left eye with middle finger]
Apone: Look into my eye.
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Ripley: Did IQs just drop sharply while I was away?
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[the marines are all hard at work, preparing for the drop]
Ripley: I feel like kind of a fifth wheel around here, is there anything I can do?
Apone: I dunno, is there anything you can do?
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Drake: They ain't paying us enough for this, man.
Dietrich: Not enough to have to wake up to your face, Drake.
Drake: What? Is that a joke?
Dietrich: Oh, I wish it were.
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Apone: All right, sweethearts, you're a team and there's nothin' to worry about. We come here, and we gonna conquer, and we gonna kick some, is that understood? That's what we gonna do, sweethearts, we are going to go and get some. All right, people, on the ready line! Are ya lean?
Marines: Yea!
Apone: Are ya mean?
Marines: Yea!
Apone: WHAT ARE YOU?
Marines: Lean and mean!
Apone: WHAT ARE YOU? HUDSON! Get on the ready line, Marines, get some today! Get on the ready line! Move it out! Move it out, goddammit! Get hot! One, two, three, four! Get out, get out, get out! Move it out, move it out, move it out! Move it out, move it out, move it out! One, two, three, four, five, six, seven! Aaarrrrr, absolutely badassess! Let's pack 'em in! Get in there!
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Vasquez: Look, man. I only need to know one thing: where they are.
Drake: Go, Vasquez. Kick ass.
Vasquez: Anytime, anywhere, man!
Hudson: Right, right. Somebody said "alien" she thought they said "illegal alien" and signed up!
Vasquez: Fuck you, man!
Hudson: Anytime, anywhere.
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[only in special edition]
[discussing where the eggs come from]
Hudson: Maybe it's like an anthive?
Vasquez: Bees, man. Bees have hives!
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Ripley: Just tell me one thing, Burke. You're going out there to destroy them, right? Not to study. Not to bring back. But to wipe them out.
Burke: That's the plan. You have my word on it.
Ripley: All right, I'm in.
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Gorman: [referring to the knife game] I thought you never missed, Bishop.
[Ripley looks up to see a white milky substance leaking from between Bishop's thumb and index fingers]
Ripley: [to Burke in an accusatory tone] You never said anything about an android being on board! Why not?
[Bishop perks at "android", looks to Ripley, then to Burke]
Burke: Pff, it never - never occurred to me. It's just common practice. We always have a synthetic on board.
Bishop: [to Burke] I prefer the term "Artificial Person" myself.
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[Ripley slaps away the tray of food Bishop offers her]
Frost: I guess she don't like the cornbread, either.
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Apone: Allright, sweethearts, you heard the man and you know the drill! Assholes and elbows!
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Ripley: How many drops is this for you, Lieutenant?
Gorman: Thirty eight... simulated.
Vasquez: How many *combat* drops?
Gorman: Uh, two. Including this one.
Drake: Shit.
Hudson: Oh, man...
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Gorman: Drake, check your camera. There seems to be a malfunction.
[Drake smacks the camera against a nearby support. The picture clears]
Gorman: That's better.
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Frost: Man, I'm telling you, I got a bad feeling about this drop.
Crowe: You always say that, Frost. You always say, "I got a bad feeling about this drop."
Frost: Okay, okay. When we get back without you, I'll call your folks.
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[a facehugger trapped in a stasis tube tries unsuccessfully to attack Burke]
Hicks: Looks like love at first sight to me. Oh, he likes you, Burke!
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[Bishop reads a medical chart describing the captured facehugger]
Bishop: "Surgically removed before embryo implantation. Subject: Marachek, John J., died during the procedure." They killed him taking it off.
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Dietrich: Looks like some sort of secreted resin.
Hicks: Yeah, but secreted from *what*?
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Burke: Busy little creatures, huh?
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Hicks: Drake, we are LEAVING!
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[special edition]
[during the drop to LV-426]
Hudson: I'm ready, man, check it out. I am the ultimate badass! State of the badass art! You do NOT wanna fuck with me. Check it out! Hey Ripley, don't worry. Me and my squad of ultimate badasses will protect you! Check it out! Independently targeting particle beam phalanx. Vwap! Fry half a city with this puppy. We got tactical smart missiles, phase-plasma pulse rifles, RPGs, we got sonic electronic ball breakers! We got nukes, we got knives, sharp sticks...
Apone: Knock it off, Hudson. All right, gear up.
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[repeated line]
Apone: Knock it off, Hudson!
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Frost: Hey, I sure wouldn't mind getting some more of that Arcturian poontang! Remember that time?
Spunkmeyer: Yeah, Frost, but the one that you had was a male!
Frost: It doesn't matter when it's Arcturian, baby!
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Hudson: Oh dear Lord Jesus, this ain't happening, man... This can't be happening, man! This isn't happening!
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Burke: Look, this is an emotional moment for all of us, okay? I know that. But, let's not make snap judgments, please. This is clearly-clearly an important species we're dealing with and I don't think that you or I, or anybody, has the right to arbitrarily exterminate them.
Ripley: Wrong!
Vasquez: Yeah. Watch us.
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Burke: Look, Ripley.
Ripley: Yes?
Burke: This is a multi-million dollar installation, okay? He can't make that kind of decision, he's just a grunt!
[to Hicks]
Burke: Ah, no offense.
Hicks: None taken.
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Burke: Okay, look. What if that ship didn't even exist? Did you ever think about that, I didn't know! So, now, if I went and made a major security situation out of it, everybody steps in; Administration steps in, and there's no exclusive rights for anybody, nobody wins! So I made a decision, and it was... wrong. It was a bad call, Ripley. It was a bad call.
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Hicks: I wanna introduce you to a personal friend of mine. This is an M41A pulse rifle. Ten millimeter with over-and-under thirty millimeter pump action grenade launcher.
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[Hudson is frantically mowing down aliens]
Hudson: Come on! Come on! Come and get it, baby! Come on! I don't got all day! Come on! Come on! Come on you bastard! Come on, you too! Oh, you want some of this? Fuck you!
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Vasquez: Whatever you're gonna do, do it fast!
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Bishop: In nineteen minutes, this area's gonna be a cloud of vapor the size of Nebraska.
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Bishop: Not bad for a human.
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Gorman: Any questions?
[Hudson raises his hand]
Gorman: What is it, private?
Hudson: How do I get out of this chickenshit outfit?
Apone: You secure that shit, Hudson!
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Ripley: Get away from her, you *bitch!*
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Ripley: I dunno how you managed to stay alive, but you're one brave kid, Rebecca.
Newt: [whispers] N... Newt...
Ripley: What'd you say?
Newt: Newt. My name's Newt. Nobody calls me Rebecca, except my brother.
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Newt: [to Ripley after they return to the ship] I knew you'd come.
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Gorman: Apone! Look... we can't have any firing in there. I, uh... I want you to collect magazines from everybody.
Hudson: Is he fuckin' crazy?
Frost: What the hell are we supposed to use man? Harsh language?
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Ripley: Bishop, how much time?
Bishop: Plenty, 26 minutes!
Ripley: We're not leaving!
Bishop: We're not?
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[last lines]
Newt: Are we gonna sleep all the way home?
Ripley: All the way home.
Newt: Can I dream?
Ripley: Yes, honey. I think we both can.
[tucks Newt in]
Ripley: Sleep tight.
Newt: I-ffirmative.
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[Hudson is reading a motion detector which indicates the alien horde should have passed the door by now]
Hudson: It's reading right man, look!
Hicks: Well, you're not reading *it* right!
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Hicks: [sticks shotgun right inside an alien's mouth] Eat this!
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[the Marines are being torn apart by the Aliens in the Atmosphere Processor Hive]
Hicks: Where's Apone? Where's Apone?
Hudson: The Sarge is gone! Let's get the fuck outta here!
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[Hicks is dozing through an extremely turbulent entry into a planetoid's atmosphere]
Apone: [laconically] Somebody wake up Hicks.
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Vasquez: LET'S ROCK!
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Ripley: [to Jones, the cat] And you, you little shit-head... you're staying here.
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Gorman: Morning, Marines. I'm sorry we didn't have time to brief you people before we left Gateway, but...
Hudson: Sir?
Gorman: What is it, Hicks?
Hudson: Hudson, sir.
[points]
Hudson: He's Hicks.
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[first lines]
Salvage team leader: Bio-readouts are all in the green, looks like she's alive. Well, there goes our salvage, guys.
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Hudson: Maybe we got 'em demoralized.
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Hudson: [reading a motion detector] I got signals. I got readings, in front and behind.
Frost: Where, man? I don't see shit.
Hicks: He's right. There's nothin' back here.
Hudson: Look, I'm telling ya, there's somethin' movin' and it ain't us! Tracker's off scale, man. They're all around us, man. Jesus!
Dietrich: [looking through an infra-red scope, walks right past an Alien] Maybe they don't show up on infra red at all.
[the Alien pounces on her and drags her up to the ceiling]
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Ferro: [as dropship enters atmosphere] We're in the pipe, five by five.
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Bishop: [Bishop is puzzled by Ripley's reaction towards him] Is there a problem?
Burke: I'm sorry. I don't know why I didn't even- Ripley's last trip out, the syn- the artificial person malfunctioned.
Ripley: "Malfunctioned"?
Burke: There were problems and a-a few deaths were involved.
Bishop: I'm shocked. Was it an older model?
Burke: Yeah, the Hyperdine System's 120-A2.
Bishop: Well, that explains it then. The A2s always were a bit twitchy. That could never happen now with our behavioral inhibitors. It is impossible for me to harm or by omission of action, allow to be harmed, a human being.
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Hudson: We're all gonna die man.
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Apone: Hudson, run a bypass.
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[the atmosphere processor is due to explode in four hours and kill the stranded survivors]
Ripley: Well, we've gotta get the other dropship from the Sulaco. There has to be some way of bringing it down on remote.
Hudson: How? The transmitter was on the APC. It's wasted!
Ripley: Well, I don't care how, but we better think of something. We better think of a way.
Hudson: Think of what? We're fucked!
Hicks: Shut up!
Hudson: We're doomed here!
Hicks: SHUT UP!
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[Burke greets Ripley at the hospital after she has been rescued from hypersleep]
Burke: I'm Burke. Carter Burke. I work for the company. But don't let that fool you, I'm really an okay guy. I'm glad to see you're feeling a little better. They, uh, they tell me that all the weakness and disorientation should pass soon. It's just natural side effects of such an unusually long hypersleep, or something like that.
Ripley: What do you mean? How long was I out there?
Burke: [stunned] Has no one discussed this with you yet?
Ripley: No. But, I mean, I don't... recognize this place.
Burke: [visibly uncomfortable] No, I know. Uh, okay, it's just that, uh, this might be a shock to you. It's long...
Ripley: *How* long? Please.
Burke: [after a pause] Fifty-seven years.
Ripley: [stunned disbelief] What?
Burke: That's the thing. You were out there for fifty-seven years. What happened was, you had drifted right through the core systems, and it's really just blind luck that a deep salvage team found you when they did. It's one in a thousand, really. I think you're damn lucky to be alive, kiddo. You could be floating out there forever.
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Ripley: They grab the colonists, they move them over there and they immobilize them to be hosts for more of these. Which would mean that there would have to be a lot of these parasites, right? One for each colonist. That's over a hundred at least.
Bishop: Yes, that follows.
Ripley: But each one of these things comes from an egg, right? So who's laying these eggs?
Bishop: I'm not sure. It must be something we haven't seen yet.
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[after Ripley and Newt's narrow rescue by Bishop]
Bishop: I'm sorry if I scared you. That platform was just becoming too unstable. I had to circle and hope that things didn't get too rough to take you off.
Ripley: Bishop, you did okay.
Bishop: I did?
Ripley: Oh, yeah.
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Ripley: [pointing to part of gun Hicks is showing her] What's this?
Hicks: That's the grenade launcher. I don't think you want to mess with that.
Ripley: You started this. Show me everything. I can handle myself.
Hicks: [chuckles] Yeah, I noticed.
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Ripley: [looking at the colony from a window] It's very pretty, Bishop, but what are we looking for?
Bishop: [emergency venting goes off] That's it. Emergency venting.
Hudson: [knows what it is] Ho, that's beautiful, man. Oh man, that that... that just beats it all...
Hicks: How long 'til it blows?
Bishop: Four hours. With a blast radius of 30 kilometers; equal to about 40 megatons.
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Ripley: I will never leave you. That's a promise.
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Ripley: [referring to the doll] Look, no bad dreams there.
Newt: Ripley, she doesn't have bad dreams because she's just a piece of plastic.
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Hudson: [after the drop ship crash] That's great, this is really fuckin' great, man. Now, what the fuck are we supposed to do? We're in some pretty shit now, man.
Hicks: [Grabs him by the shirt] Are you finished?
Newt: Guess we're not gonna make it, are we?
Ripley: I'm sorry, Newt.
Newt: Don't be sorry, it wasn't your fault.
Hudson: That's it, man. Game over, man. Game over, what the fuck are we supposed to now, huh, what are we gonna do?
Burke: Maybe we can build a fire, sing a couple of songs, huh, how about we try that.
Newt: We gotta get inside. It's gonna be dark soon, and they mostly hunt at night. Mostly.
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Spunkmeyer: [during breakfast] What's this crap supposed to be?
Frost: Cornbread, I think.
Hicks: It's good for you, boy. Eat it.
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Insurance Man: Thank you Ripley, that will be all.
Ripley: [aggravated] Goddammit, that's not all! 'Cause if one of those things gets down here then that *will* be all! And all this,
[Ripley grabs up a few pieces of paper]
Ripley: this *bullshit* you think is so important,
[Ripley tosses the paper, scattering them]
Ripley: you can just kiss all of that goodbye!
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Hudson: [Knowing that the Aliens are close, Hicks and Vasquez are welding the door shut] Movement. Signal's clean. Range, 20 meters.
Ripley: They've found a way in, something we've missed.
Hicks: We didn't miss anything.
Hudson: 17 meters.
Ripley: [Checking the tracker] Something under the floor, not in the plans, I don't know.
Hudson: 15 meters.
Newt: Ripley.
Hicks: Definitely inside the barricades.
Newt: Let's go.
Hudson: 12 meters.
Ripley: That's right outside the door. Hicks, Vasquez get back.
Hudson: Man, this is a big fuckin' signal.
Hicks: How are we doing Vasquez, talk to me?
Vasquez: Almost there.
[They welded the door shut, and stepped back away from the door]
Vasquez: There right on us.
Hicks: [Waiting for the Aliens] Remember, short controlled bursts.
Hudson: 9 meters. 7. 6.
Ripley: That can't be; that's inside the room.
Hudson: It's reading right man, look!
Hicks: Then you're not reading *it* right.
Hudson: 5 meters, man. 4. What the hell?
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Gorman: [Calling Apone over the radio] Look, uh, Apone.
[Apone snaps his fingers]
Gorman: Look, we can't have any firing in there. I, uh, I want you to collect magazines from everybody.
Hudson: Is he fuckin' crazy?
Frost: What do you expect us to use man, harsh language?
Gorman: Flame units only. I want rifles slung.
Apone: But, sir...
Gorman: [Interrupting] Do it Apone, and no grenades.
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Apone: [after the Briefing] Alright sweethearts, you heard the man and you know the drill. Assholes and elbows! Hudson, come here, come here.
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Vasquez: [after barely surviving the Alien surprise attack] Okay. We have several canisters of CM-20. I say we go back in there and nerve gas the whole fuckin' nest.
Hicks: It's worth the try, but we don't know if that's gonna affect them.
Hudson: Let's just bug out and call it even, mat! What are we even talking about this for?
Ripley: I say we take off and nuke the entire site from orbit. It's the only way to be sure.
Hudson: Fuckin' A!
Burke: Hold on a second. This installation has a substantial dollar value attached to it.
Ripley: They can *bill* me.
Burke: Okay, I know this is an emotional moment for all of us. I know that. But let's not make snap judgments, please. This is clearly an important species we're dealing with and I don't think that you or I, or *anybody*, has the right to arbitrarily exterminate them.
Ripley: Wrong.
Vasquez: Yeah, watch us.
Hudson: Maybe you haven't been keeping up on current events, but we just got our asses kicked, pal!
Burke: Look. I'm not blind to what is going on, but I cannot authorize that kind of action. I'm sorry.
Ripley: Well, *I* believe that Corporal *Hicks* has authority here.
Burke: *Corporal* Hicks has...?
Ripley: This operation is under military jurisdiction and Hicks is next in the chain of command. Am I right, Corporal?
Hicks: Yeah... yeah, that's right.
Burke: Yeah... look, Ripley, this is a multi-million dollar installation. He can't make that kind of decision. He's just a grunt!
Burke: [to Hicks] Uh, no offense.
Hicks: None taken.
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Burke: [Talking about the facehuggers] Look, those two specimens are worth millions to the bio-weapons division. Now, if you're smart, we can both come out of it as heroes and we'll be set up for life.
Ripley: You're crazy Burke, you know that? You really think that you can get a dangerous organism like that past ICC quarantine?
Burke: How can they impound it if they don't know about it?
Ripley: Oh they *will* know about it, Burke. From me. Just like they'll know that you were responsible for the deaths if 158 colonists here.
Burke: Wait a second...
Ripley: You sent them to that ship.
Burke: You're wrong.
Ripley: I just checked the colony log. Dated 0-6-1-2-7-9, signed Burke, Carter J. You sent them out there and you didn't even warn them. Why didn't you warn them, Burke?
Burke: Okay, look. What if that ship didn't even exist, huh? Did you ever think about that? I didn't know! So now, if I went in and made a major security issue out of it, everybody steps in. Administration steps in, and there are no exclusive rights for anybody; nobody wins. So I made a decision and it was... wrong. It was a bad call, Ripley, it was a bad call.
Ripley: Bad call?
[Ripley grabs Burke by his vest, shoves him against a wall]
Ripley: These people are *dead *,Burke! Don't you have any idea what you have done here? Well, I'm gonna make sure they nail you right to the wall for this! You're not gonna sleaze your way out of this one! Right to the wall!
[Ripley lets go of Burke]
Burke: Ripley...! You know, I... I expected more from you. I thought you'd be smarter than this.
Ripley: I'm happy to disappoint you.
[Ripley leaves]
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Ripley: You know, Burke, I don't know which species is worse. You don't see them fucking each other over for a goddamn percentage.
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Gorman: Alright. Drake, this way. We should be able to cut through the Med-Lab to Operations.
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Ripley: Get away from her, you bitch!
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Hicks: [after the dropship crash] Okay. Is this everything?
Hudson: Yeah.
[putting weapons on the table]
Hicks: Okay, this is absolutely everything we've salvaged from the APC wreckage. We have 4 M-41A Pulse Rifles, 50 rounds each. That's not good. We have these M-40 grenades.
[seeing Newt touching one of the grenades]
Hicks: Don't touch that, dangerous, honey.
Ripley: Is that the only flamethrower?
Hicks: Yeah, it's only half-full, but it's functional. The other one is damaged, I don't know about that one.
[Reaching for a box]
Hicks: But the good news is, that we have these sentry emplacements. Kick-ass, I think they'll come in handy.
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Ripley: It's very pretty Bishop but what're we looking for.
Bishop: [Pointing at some gas coming from the reactor] That, right there. Emergency venting.
Hudson: Wow, that's beautiful. That... that tells it all.
Hicks: How long 'till it blows?
Bishop: Four hours. The radius is around 30 kilometers, and it's euqal to around 40 megatons.
Hicks: We got problems.
Hudson: I don't believe this, I don't fucking *believe* this.
Hicks: Vasquez, close the shutters.
Ripley: Why can't we shut it down from here?
Bishop: I'm sorry, the crash just cause too much damage. An overload... is inevitable at this point.
Hicks: Oh, maaaaaan and I was getting short. Four more weeks and out, now I'm going to die on this rock. This ain't fair man.
Vasquez: Give us a break.
Hudson: Four more weeks.
Ripley: Then, we've gotts get the other dropship from the Sulaco. There has to be... a way to bring it down on remote.
Hudson: How? The transmittor was on the APC. It's wasted.
Ripley: I don't care how. We gotta find a way, we gotta think of something.
Hudson: Think of what? We're *fucked*!
Hicks: [shouting over Hudson] Shut up!
Hudson: We're doomed now...
Hicks: [shouting over hudson] Shut up!
[to Ripley]
Hicks: What about the Colony transmitter. The radio tower down the other end?
Bishop: No. I've checked. The hardware here and there... is damaged. We can't realign the dish.
Ripley: Well, somebody *has* to go out there. Take a portable terminal and patch it in manually.
Hudson: Oh yeah, sure. With *those* things running around? You can count *me* out.
Hicks: Oh, we can just count you out of *everything*, huh?
Hudson: That's right, man. Unless *you* go, man.
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Ripley: We were brought to the planet by what our company has told us, and Kane went into this strange ship that we have found there/ But when he came back he had something attached to his face, some kind of parasite. We tried to take it off but it wouldn't come off, but soon it sort of came off all by itself and died. Kane seemed fine, we were all having dinner. I don't know what but that thing must have layed something inside his throat some kind of embryo. Because he was... um he was...
Vasquez: Look, man. I only need to know one thing. Where they are?
[puts up a finger gun and pretends to fire]
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