Alien 3 (1992)
by William Gibson.
Revised first draft screenplay, from a story by David Giler and Walter Hill.
More info about this movie on IMDb.com
FADE IN:

DEEP SPACE - THE FUTURE

The silent field of stars -- eclipsed by the dark bulk of an approaching
ship.  CLOSER.

ANGLE ON THE HULL

A towering cliff of metal, Sulaco.

INT. SULACO -- HYPERSLEEP VAULT

TRACKING down the line of empty, open capsules.  Frozen twilight.  The final
four capsules are sealed, lids in place.

ANGLE -- INSIDE CAPSULE

NEWT, then RIPLEY.  HICKS next, his head and chest bandaged.  Then BISHOP in
his caul of plastic.  But the lid of Bishop's capsule is misted with hothouse
condensation.

CLOSER

A tear of fluid streaks the condensation.

An alarm SOUNDS.

A monitor begins to scroll data.

TIGHT ON MONITOR

TROOP TRANSPORT SULACO
CMC 846A/BETA
MISSION/LV-426/RETURN
STATUS RED
TREATY VIOLATION
REF:  #99AG558L5
CAUSE:  NAVIGATIONAL ERROR

Bland feminine voice of the ship's computer, as the alarm continues to SOUND.

COMPUTER
Attention.  Due to failure of navigational
circuitry, Sulaco has entered a sector claimed
by the Union of Progressive Peoples.  Auxiliary
systems are now on line.  Course corrected.
Hardwired protocols prevent, repeat, prevent
arming of nuclear warheads in the absence of
Diplomatic Override, Decryption Standard Charlie
Nine.  On present course, Sulaco will exit the
U.P.P. sector at nineteen hundred hours fifty
three point eight minutes.

EXT. SULACO

The ship slides past beneath us.  A U.P.P. interceptor descends INTO FRAME,
matching course and speed with Sulaco.  The interceptor settles on Sulaco
like a wasp.

INT. INTERCEPTOR

Three commandos climb into spacesuits.  The Leader opens a hatch in the deck,
revealing one of Sulaco's airlocks.  FIRST COMMANDO, a young Vietnamese woman,
scrambles down and attaches magnetic units to the airlock.  SECOND COMMANDO
studies a monitor, tapping out a sequence on a keyboard.   First Commando
gestures from hatch:  no good.  Second Commando tries again.  A grating SOUND
as Sulaco's airlock begins to open.

INT. SULACO -- CARGO LOCK

Darkness.  Armed commandos climb through opening and descend a ladder.
Reaching the deck, they fan out, weapons ready.  Their leader examines the
damaged dropship.  First Commando gestures urgently.  She's found something.

Bishop's legs, broken, grotesquely twisted, still in fatigues, the white
android blood clotted into powder.  First and Second Commandos exchange looks
through their faceplates.

COMPUTER
Attention.  Integrity breach, Cargo Lock 3.
Security alert.  Integrity breach, B Deck...

INT. HYPERSLEEP VAULT -- LEADER'S POV

The chilly aisle of capsules.

Commandos move down the line, guns poised. They peer in at Newt, Ripley, and
Hicks, but the lid of Bishop's capsule is pearl-white. The Leader tries the
controls at the foot of the capsule, where green and red indicators glow.
Nothing happens.  He opens a panel, finds an emergency lever, tries it.  The
green indicators wink off.  The lid rises. A dense pale mist flows out,
spilling over the edges of the capsule, revealing the ovoid of a gray Alien
egg. Rooted in the center of Bishop's synthetic entrails, the egg instantly
ejaculates a Face-hugger, which strikes the leader's faceplate in a spray of
acid.  He screams, blinded by the acid, grappling with the thing as it begins
to force its way into his helmet, its tail lashing furiously.  Clawing at it,
he plunges blindly back down the aisle, stumbling, smashing into the empty
capsules.  He vanishes through the entranceway, his screams giving way to
frenzied gagging SOUNDS.

The First Commando scrambles after him.

INT. CARGO LOCK

The Leader writhes on the deck beside the main cargo lock.  First Commando
rushes in, crouches beside him, takes careful two-handed aim with her
sidearm -- she FIRES, attempting to kill the face-hugger without hitting the
Leader.  The face-hugger EXPLODES in a gout of acid; ragged holes burn through
the side of his helmet.  First Commando frantically works the lock controls.
As the inner lock opens, she shoves the leader over the edge with her foot.

EXT. SULACO

Helmetless, headless, trailing a cloud of blood and acid, the Leader tumbles
through space.

INT. CARGO LOCK

Eyes of the First Commando through her faceplate.  Beat.  Something moves,
behind her.  She spins, bringing up her gun.  Backlit in the entrance to the
vault, a black, multi-armed figure.  The beam from her lamp finds it -- the
Second Commando, with Bishop in his arms.

DISSOLVE TO:

IN DEEP SPACE -- VARIOUS ANGLES

A station the size of a small moon, and growing; unfinished sections of hull
are open to vacuum. A vast, irregular structure, the result of the shifting
goals of successive administrations.

MOVE IN on hundreds of windows -- most of them dark.  A light comes on in one
of the windows.

INT. ANCHORPOINT -- TULLY'S SLEEPING CUBICLE

A phone is RINGING.  The cubicle, terminally sloppy, resembles the nest of a
high-tech hamster, not much larger than a berth of a train.  The walls are
plastered with a wistful collage of posters, ads, photos torn from magazines:
beaches, desert, the Grand Canyon, redwoods, blue sky -- a hedge against
claustrophobia and the emptiness of space.

TULLY, sitting up in bed, knuckling sleep from his eyes, wincing at the light;
he slaps the phone console and the glum face of OPERATIONS OFFICER JACKSON
(female) appears.  She wears a nylon baseball cap with a computer light-pen
attached to the bill.

JACKSON
'Morning, Tully.

TULLY
Morning?  Jesus, Jackson, it's the middle of my
downtime...

CLOSE ON THE CONSOLE SCREEN

ANGLE

The room behind Jackson is Achorpoint's nerve-center, the Ops Room.

JACKSON
None of us up here in the Ops Room have seen
downtime for a while, Tully.  A Marine transport
came in on automatic sixteen hours ago.

She bobs her head as she speaks, using the pen on her cap to move a cursor on
a screen in front of her.

JACKSON
(continuing)
The Sulaco.  Departed gateway four years ago
with a compliment of fifteen.  A dozen marines,
an android, a company representative, and the
former warrant officer of a merchant vessel...

TULLY
So?

JACKSON
So, the bio-readout gives us the warrant officer,
one -- count him -- marine, and a nine-year-old
girl.  Makes you wonder what happened out there,
doesn't it?

TULLY
So ask 'em.  Wake 'em up and ask 'em.  Them, not
me.

JACKSON
But that's the good news, Tully.  Three hours
before Sulaco turned up, we docked a priority
shuttle out of Gateway.  Two passengers. Milisci,
Tully. Weapons Division.

TULLY