AUTOCHEF. Among the troopers dress discipline is lax...fatigues customized and emblazoned with patches. Rapid's tunic is cut off to a vest and has "Eat the apple and fuck the Corps" stenciled on back. "Peace Through Superior Firepower," "Pray for War" and "I've Served My Time in Hell: Cetti Epsilon NC-104" are some others.

ZEKI: Hey, 'Top.' What's the op?
BLACKNIGHT: Rescue mission. There's some juicy colonists' daughters we gotta rescue from virginity.

Blacknight is stocky, grizzled, with peregrine eyes. He runs it loose and fair, but only because he knows his people are the best.

NIKKI: Shee-it. Dumbass colonists.  What's this crap supposed to be?
KALTAG: Cornbread, I think. Hey, I wouldn't mind getting me some more a that Arcturan poontang. Remember that time?
BREEZE: (Low) Looks like that new Lieutenant's too good to eat with us grunts.
KALTAG: (Glancing over shoulder) Yeah. Got a corn cob up his ass, definitely.

Across the room, at the other table, Hahoku sits with his creases perfect...the consummate struck NCO. Kapu takes a seat beside Jenna, who pointedly gets up and moves to the far side of the table. He looks wounded.

KAPU: I'm sorry you feel that way about Synthetics, Jenna.

Jenna spins on Not-much, her tone accusing.

JENNA: You never said anything about an android being here! Why not?
NOT-MUCH: Well, it didn't occur to me. It's been policy for years to have a synthetic on board.
KAPU: I prefer the term 'artificial person' myself. Is there a problem?
NOT-MUCH: A synthetic malfunctioned on her last trip out. Some deaths were involved.
KAPU: I'm shocked. Was it an older model?
NOT-MUCH: Cyber dyne Systems 120-A/2.

Kapu turns to Jenna, very conciliatory.

KAPU: Well, that explains it. The A/2's were always a bit twitchy.  That could never happen now without behavioral inhibitors. Impossible for me to harm or, by omission of action, allow to be harmed a human or K 9.  (Smiling) More cornbread?

WHAM! Jenna knocks the plate out of his hand, halfway across the room.

JENNA: Just stay away from me, Kapu!  You got that straight?

Not-much and Hahoku exchange glances.
Kaltag, at the next table, shrugs and turns back to the other troopers.

KALTAG: She don't like the cornbread either.

INT. READY ROOM - TIGHT ON BLACKNIGHT - ARMORY 33
bellowing.

BLACKNIGHT: Tench-hut!

WIDER ANGLE as the troops snap to from their lounging among the racks of high-tech weaponry. Hahoku enters with Not-much and Jenna.

HAHOKU: At ease. I'm sorry we didn't have time to brief before we left Gateway but...
ZEKI: Sir?
HAHOKU: (Annoyed) Yes, Breeze?
ZEKI: Zeki, Sir. He's Breeze.
HAHOKU: What's the question?
ZEKI: Is this going to be a stand-up fight, Sir, on another bug-hunt?
HAHOKU: All we know is that there's still no contact with the colony and that a xenomorph may be involved.
KALTAG: A what?
BREEZE: (To Kaltag; low) It's a bug-hunt. (Louder) So what are these things?

Hahoku nods to Jenna, who stands before the troops.
She sets some RECORDING DISKETTES on the table.

JENNA: I've dictated what I know on these.
BLACKNIGHT: Tease us a bit.
NIKKI: Yeah...previews.
JENNA: Okay. It's important to understand this organism's life cycle. It's actually two creatures. The first form hatches from a spore...a sort of large egg, and attaches itself to its victim. Then it injects an embryo, detaches and dies.  It's essentially a walking sex organ.  The --
ZEKI: Sounds like you, Breeze.
JENNA: (Controlled) The embryo, the second form, hosts in the victim's body for several hours. Gestating. Then it...(With difficulty)...then it...emerges. Moults.  Grows rapidly --
SNOWDRIFT: I only need to know one thing.
JENNA: Yes?
SNOWDRIFT: Where they are.

Snowdrift coolly points her finger, cocks her thumbs, and blows away an imaginary alien.

RAPID: Yo! Snowdrift. Kick ass!
SNOWDRIFT: Anytime. Anywhere.
ZEKI: Somebody said alien...she thought they said illegal alien and signed up.
SNOWDRIFT: Fuck you.
ZEKI: Anytime. Anywhere.
JENNA: (Icy) Am I disturbing you conversation Mr. Zeki?

Zeki settles down, smirking. Jenna locks eyes with Snowdrift.

JENNA: I hope you're right. I really do.
NOT-MUCH: (To all) I suggest you study the disks Jenna has been kind enough to prepare for you.
HAHOKU: Are there any questions? Zeki?
ZEKI: How do I get out of this chicken-shit outfit?

Hahoku scowls then, thanking Jenna with a nod, takes over the predrop briefing.

HAHOKU: All right. I want this to go smooth and by the numbers. I want DCS and tactical database assimilation by 0830. (Some groans) Ordnance loading, weapons strip and drop-ship prep details will have seven hours...

EXT. SPACE - ACHERON 34
They have arrived. From orbit the planet looks serene...Pearle scent cloud cover masking the environmentaltorment beneath. The SULACO floats, its MANEUVERING JETS FIRING. A bluish glow. Then twice more, rapidly.

INT. BRIDGE 35
Kapu is installed in his command seat, hemmed in by instrumentation.

KAPU: (Into mike) Attention. This concluded final maneuvering operations. Thank you for your cooperation. You may resume work.

INT. LOADING BAY - TIGHT ON MASSIVE FORKS - CARGO LOCK 34
sliding into a heavy ordnance rack with an echoing CLANG. PULL BACK as the rack of tactical missiles is lifted, REVEALING two powerful hydraulic arms.  Nikki, seated inside a POWER LOADER, swings the ordnance up into a belly nacelle of the DROP-SHIP where it locks into place. As he exerts pressure with his paws against the servo-controls the hydraulic arms move correspondingly...but with a thousand fold increase in power. The forklift-style CLAWS on each arm can crush with tons of pressure. The loader has an open ROLL CAGE to protect the operator, and is supported by squat HYDRAULIC LEGS which also move correspondingly with the driver's movements.

You have never seen anything like this before.  Advanced as it is to us, it's only an old forklift to them...battered and well used. Covered with grease.  Repainted many times. Across the back is stencilled "CATERPILLAR."

Nikki's machine swings out from under the drop-ship and we become aware of the intense activity throughout the cavernous loading bay. Troopers on foot or driving TOW-MOWERS, OVERHEAD LOADING ARMS...all in motion.

Breeze checks off items on an electronic manifest.

INT. READY ROOM - ARMORY 37
Kaltag, Rapid and Snowdrift are fieldstripping light weapons with precise movements. Around them, in racks, is an arsenal of advanced personal artillery.

Snowdrift likes the feel of the guns, the weight...the authority. Her paws move without hesitation. CLACK. CLACK. CLACK. She swings one of the SMART-GUNS out on a work stand. Using a body brace and GYRO-STABILIZED SUPPORT ARM, it is a computer-aimed, video targeted automatic weapon. The futuristic equivalent of a .30 caliber light machine gun. Sort of a stead cam that kills.

INT. LOADING BAY - ANGLE ON NOT-MUCH AND HAHOKU 38
with pre-flight activity b.g.

NOT-MUCH: Still nothing from the colony?
HAHOKU: Dead on all channels.

Jenna watches the drop-ship being loaded. A cross between a Huey Air cobra gunship and the space shuttle might describe it. An orbit-to-surface troop carrier, heavily armed for the close support of ground missions.  She watches a six-wheeled APC, ARMORED PERSONNEL CARRIER, being raised hydraulically into the ship's belly. Jenna looks around as Snow wheels a rack of incomprehensible equipment toward her.

SNOW: Clear, please.

Jenna jumps aside, nodding apologetically. She turns.  Steps hastily back. Zeki cruises by with a laden forklift.

ZEKI: Excuse me.

ANGLE ON BLACKNIGHT standing with Breeze, as Jenna approaches him

JENNA: I feel like a fifth wheel here. Is there anything I can do?
BLACKNIGHT: I don't know. Is there anything you can do?
JENNA: (Pointing) I can drive that loader. I've got a Class Two rating. My latest career move.

Blacknight turns. A SECOND POWER LOADER sits unused in an equipment bay.
TWO SHOT BLACKNIGHT AND BREEZE skeptical. Considering. TIGHT ON POWER SWITCH as Jenna's finger punches it on.  A RISING WHINE of power.

TIGHT ON THE HYDRAULICS as the massive machine stirs to life.
FULL, as the loader starts. Jenna is strapped into the safety cage, her arms and legs inserted in the servo-sensor assemblies. She takes a step. BOOM!  Two tons of hardened steel takes a step.

Jenna spins the wrist servos. The huge claws swing, open...slide smoothly into lifting brackets on a cargo module, nearby. She raises it deftly.

JENNA: Where you want it?

Breeze looks at Blacknight, cocks an eyebrow appreciatively.

INT. READY ROOM - ARMORY 39
The troopers are suiting up for the drop. Strapping on their bulky COMBAT-ARMOR...interlocking plates like football padding. They tape their wrists. Draw on segmented boots. The sole cleats CLACK like hooves on the deck plates. Lockers SLAM.

WEB BELTS. PACKS. HARNESSES. HELMETS. COM-SETS.
Their fingers move methodically over the fastenings.  It has its own rhythm...CLICK. CLICK. CLICK.

BLACKNIGHT: Let's move it, girls! On the ready line. Let's go, let's go.

INT. DROP-SHIP - APC 40
Jenna, wearing a flight jacket and headset, files into the ship with the hulking troopers. Inside they pass directly into the APC we saw loaded earlier and take seats facing each other across a narrow aisle. They will drop already strapped into their ground vehicle for rapid deployment. A KLAXON SOUNDS, signaling depressurization of the cargo lock.

Zeki prowls the aisle, his movements predatory and exaggerated. Jenna watches him working his way toward her.

ZEKI: I am ready, man. Ready to get it on. Check-it-out. I am the ultimate bad ass...state of the bad ass art. You do not want to fuck with me. Hey, Jenna, don't worry. Me and my squad of ultimate bad asses will protect you.