Terrific.  Just absolutely fucking wonderful...

His monologue is interrupted by Welles' entrance; he's startled, looks up
guiltily.  The heavy glass doors HISS shut behind her.

WELLES
Communing with nature, Tully?

TULLY
Your not wearing a badge.
(taps the plastic ID
clipped to his lab coat)
White strap registers contamination.  Turns
red if you're accidentally exposed to something.
Got it?

WELLES
Where's Trent?

TULLY
Lunch.

WELLES
And how's our friend?

She moves to the stasis tube, looks in.

TULLY
Friends.  Our little friends.  Growing.

WELLES
Get me hard copy for the past six hours.

TULLY
Sorry.  Ask Trent.

WELLES
I don't think you understood me, Technician
Tully...

She's following him as he nears the main computer console; in the b.g., a
stasis tube begins to HISS.  CRACKS loudly, a hairline fracture emits a
superfine spray of fluid.  An alarm SOUNDS.

WELLES
(continuing)
What does th --

TULLY
O Jesus...

Two of the tubes BLOW OUT.  Nutrient fluid and plastic shards everywhere.
Welles and Tully go down.  A louder ALARM cuts in; red lights strobe.  Locks
in the doors THUNK shut, an automatic containment measure, as Spence, outside,
throws down her coffee and begins to struggle with the door-controls, trying
to reach Tully.  Tully, facedown in a pool of the fluid, see that he's nine
inches away from the gray pigeon's-egg of alien tissue.  His eyes widen.  Gets
to his knees as carefully as he can.  Reaches slowly -- slowly -- sideways,
manages to snag a pair of plastic tongs and a shallow lab tray from the
counter...

Welles tries to scramble to her feet, loses her balance in the slippery goop,
and snatches at his arm.  He nearly falls on top of the thing, but cuffs her
roughly away, kneels, tongs poised... Beat.  A tiny orifice opens; for a
split-second something glitters above the thing, a faint, fist-sized cloud of
dark mist.  Then it's gone and Tully's moving, swooping in with tongs and
tray.

SPENCE (V.O.)
(intercom)
Tully!  Tully, Goddamn it!  What's happening?
Are you okay?

TULLY
De-con.  Get us down to De-con!

Welles is struggling to her feet.

INT. DECONTAMINATION CHAMBER

Drenched, naked, furious, Welles is nearly invisible behind a scalding
downpour as techs in biohazard gear scrub her down with detergents and
antibacterial agents.  She shoots eye-daggers at Tully, who's being worked
over by two more techs.

DISSOLVE TO:

INT. OPS ROOM

Jackson at work.  PAN ACROSS screens to security camera view of the DNA lab,
clean now but minus two stasis tubes -- image identified:  TISSUE CULTURE /
25 AUGUST / 1900:15 HOURS.  Jackson's attention is elsewhere.

INT. A CORRIDOR

Hicks keeps watch as Bishop open a panel, exposing complex wiring; no
hesitation whatever as he strips two wires, removes a Walkman-sized VCR from
his belt, and clips lead to the stripped wires.

INT. OPS ROOM

CLOSE on monitor image of the lab.  The picture fuzzes out, scrambles,
returns -- but now reads:  TISSUE CULTURE / 23 AUGUST / 1200:02 HOURS and
the missing tubes are back in place.

INT. ENTRANCE -- OUTSIDE LAB

BISHOP
We have three minutes at the outside.

HICKS
Go.

Bishop punches the code-sequence and the door hisses open; they're through,
moving.

INT. TISSUE CULTURE LAB

They move down the row of stasis tubes.  Bishop pauses when they reach the two
units with missing tubes, then quickly moves on.  He opens a wall panel,
exposing controls and a large, very serious-looking red switch.  Label above
switch:

STASIS SYSTEM MICROWAVE STERILIZATION

Then, he hesitates.  Turning slowly, as if under compulsion, he looks back;
the line of glowing tubes.

HICKS
Do it!

And still he doesn't move... Hicks darts his arm past Bishop, breaking the
trance and yanking the red switch.

A burst of unpleasant high-frequency SOUND as the fluid in the tubes instantly
begins to boil.

CLOSE ON ONE OF THE ALIEN CULTURES

as it bursts, disintegrates into a film of slime lost behind a storm of
bubbles.  The lab's ALARM system goes off.  The doors slide open as three
MARINES cover Hicks and Bishop with handguns.

MARINES
Just don't you fucking move, Jack.

Hicks stonefaces the Marines.  Then cracks a grin.

INT. DETENTION UNIT

Hicks and Bishop, in white plastic "medical restraints" (like arm and leg-
irons) precede the grim-faced Marines along a corridor and are thrown into
separate cells.

DISSOLVE TO:

INT. THE BUBBLE

Meeting of Anchorpoint's full directorate, including Welles and Fox, Jackson,
and a number of new faces. Welles is white-lipped with fury.

JACKSON
They knew the code, didn't they?  The code for
the door...

FOX
You got it, Ops.  And they knew just where to
go which button to push to poach our eggs for us,
didn't they?  Struggling with an idea, Ops?
Think it may even have been an inside job?

JACKSON
You're a Grade A Company prick, aren't you,
mister?

(Her bitch truckdriver side; a tough lady, used to taking a lot of life-or-
death responsibility in her job.)

WELLES
The Anchorpoint phase of the project is terminated,
Rosetti.  You'll keep Hicks and the android in
solitary until they can return with us to Gateway
to stand trial for treason.

TRENT
The Anchorpoint phase?  What do you mean?  We
have no more material to work with...

FOX
You have no more material to work with, Trent.
In any case, it's become obvious that you aren't
quiet the man for the job.  We took the precaution
of obtaining our own samples.  They're on their
way to Gateway.

WELLES
(with cold satisfaction)
... and everything, every move each of you have
made, since our arrival, is going to be gone
over with a fine toothed c-c-c-c--