Alien Resurrection

My mommy always said there were no monsters.

No real ones.

But there are.

She's perfect.

Careful.

Two centimeters.

Okay. Okay.

Yeah. Ready with that amnio.

And...

...there it is.

But be careful.

Jesus.

Clamp.

What about her? Can we keep her alive?

How's the host?

Doing well.

Sew her back up.

Excellent work. Everybody.

- How is our Number Eight today? - Appears to be in good health.

- How good? - Excellent.

As in completely off our projected charts.

Look at the scar tissue.

See the recession?

- This is from three days ago? - Exactly.

Well, this is good.

This is very good.

You're gonna make us all very proud.

No.

Don't! I'm all right!

Now try this.

- Hand. - Close.

Glove.

Number Eight?

- Fruit. - Good, cherries.

- It's unprecedented. - Totally.

She's operating at a completely adult capacity.

- What about her memories? - There are gaps.

- Some degree of synaptic dissonance. - You know this.

She's freaked.

It has connective difficulties, caused by a biochemical imbalance...

...causing emotional autism. Certain reactions--

Wait a second. It has memories.

Why does it have memories?

Well, I'm guessing, but inherited memories...

...passed down generationally at a genetic level by the aliens, like its strength.

Plus a highly evolved form of instinct.

An unexpected benefit from the genetic crossing.

Oh, I see. Well, of course. Stupid me. Of course.

An unexpected benefit of the genetic process! I didn't even think of that.

Let's try this one.

Ripley?

Ripley?

Ripley, what is it?

Ripley? Ripley?

- You're not thinking termination? - Oh, boy, am I thinking termination.

We do not perceive this to be a problem.

Ellen Ripley died trying to wipe this species out.

For all intents and purposes, she succeeded.

I'm not anxious to see her taking up her old hobbies.

- That won't happen. - We won't tell her.

Oh, I see. And that's supposed to comfort me.

Identification, please.

Please try again.

Thank you, General Perez.

The bottom line is, she looks at me funny one time, I'm putting her down.

Okay, as far as I'm concerned, Number Eight...

...is a meat byproduct.

Her Majesty here is the real payoff.

- When does she start producing? - Days.

Less, maybe.

- We need the cargo. - I told you, it's on its way.

Fork.

- Fuck. - It's "fork."

How did you...?

How did we get you?

Yes.

Hard work. We used blood samples from Fiori 16, on ice.

Where you died.

We've remade you. We cloned you.

Fiori 16.

Does that ring a bell?

Are you remembering something?

Does it grow?

Yeah. Very rapidly.

- It's a queen. - How did you know that?

She'll breed.

You'll die.

Everyone in the company will die.

"In the company"?

Weyland-Yutani. Ripley Eight's former employers.

A Terran Growth conglomerate. They had defense contracts under the military.

Oh, they went under decades ago, Gediman. Way before your time.

Bought out by Wal-Mart.

Fortunes of war.

I think you will find that things have changed a great deal since your time.

I doubt that.

We're not flying blind here, you know.

This is United Systems Military, not some greedy corporation.

Well, it won't make any difference.

You're still gonna die.

How do you feel about that?

I wish you could understand what we're trying to do.

The potential for this species goes way beyond urban pacification:

New alloys, new vaccines.

Nothing like this we've ever seen on any world before.

You should be very proud.

I am.

And the animal itself:

Wondrous.

The potential, unbelievable. Once we've tamed him.

Roll over? Play dead?

Heel?

You can't teach it tricks.

Why not? We're teaching you.

Hey, son, I'll give you my authorization code.

It's E-A-T-M-E.

I'm sorry, sir, could you repeat that?

Little prick.

You know, no matter how many times you see it...

...the sight of a woman all strapped up in a chair like that just...

What?

Just bring us in on a 3-0 descent, would you? And ride the parallel.

- Darling, it is done. - Good girl.

You want anything there, trigger?

Yeah. How about a cup of coffee?

Anything else while your mouth's warm, I mean?

A little milk.

Hey, don't cut thrust till about 600 meters. We'll give them a little scare.

Vriess! Call!

Batton down, we're gonna dock.

- Hey, Call? - Yeah?

What has two thumbs, one eye...

...a pink tongue...

...and screws like a god?

What?

Two thumbs, one eye, a pink tongue...

...and screws like a god?

What?

Time to enjoy some of the general's hospitality, Christie.

Great. Army food.

Yeah, it'll do till we get the family wagon up to spec, I reckon.

Yeah.

That is, if the natives are friendly.

- How's that? - Good.

Are we expecting any trouble?

From Perez, I doubt it. But you never know, we've been there before.

What is wrong with you?

Just a little target practice.

Vriess isn't complaining.

Goddamn it.

Johner, you son of a bitch!

Come on, man, you didn't feel a thing.

You are an inbred motherfucker, you know that?

I'll take the knife back now.

Call, forget it.

He's been sucking down too much home-brew.

The knife.

Son of a bitch!

Don't push me, Call. You hang with us for a while...

...you'll find out I am not the man with whom to fuck.

It's about time we started associating with a better class of people.

I am Father.

Welcome to the USM Auriga.

Step forward for contraband and weapons search.

Please report any infectious diseases to the medical officers.

Levels 7 through 12 are off-limits to civilians.

Thank you for your cooperation.

Go.

- Get your hands up, please, sir. - What?

Could you get your hands up, please?

There are no weapons allowed onboard, sir.

My own recipe.

Way more dangerous.

Nice welcome, Perez. What the hell is this?

Are you afraid the six of us are gonna hijack your damn ship or what?

Just the minor concern that one of your asshole crew members...

...is gonna get drunk and put a bullet through the hull. We happen to be in space.

No shit.

How you been?

Wanna check the chair?

Elgyn, these were very, very hard to come by.

So was our cargo.

You're not about to plead poverty on me, are you, general?

No. I'm just saying, very few people deal in cash nowadays.

Just the ones don't like to keep business records. Yourself, for example.

- Drink, Elgyn? - Constantly.

I'm gonna take a wild guess here, general, but I'm thinking...

...whatever you got going on here, it ain't exactly approved by Congress.

Who's the new filly you got onboard, Elgyn?

Call?

Little girl playing pirates?

She makes an impression.

She is severely fuckable, ain't she?

Mighty handy with a monkey wrench too, I might add.

I think Vriess has got a bit of a light in his eye for her.

Fine little ass like that make a man walk, you know what I mean?

Mind you, I think she's just a tad curious about this little transaction of ours.

I mean, I can't say as I blame her. It's awfully cloak-and-dagger stuff.

It's a military operation.

Really?