WILKS' POV: The face of an attractive woman dominating the 
screen. Her name is Ellen Ripley.

 RIPLEY (V.O.)
 With a little luck the network will pick 
 me up.
 (beat)
 This is Ripley, W564502460H, executive 
 officer, last survivor of the commercial 
 starship Nostromo signing off.

The screen cuts to static. Wilks looks away.

 WILKS
 Okay, I've seen it.

 MARINE GUARD
 Follow me, Corporal.

The marine EXITS the room. Wilks, visibly shaken now, knees 
almost giving out. He puts a hand to a chair, steadying 
himself, before following.

INT. HALLWAY - DAY

Security cameras tracking Wilks and the Guard carefully.

INT. HALLWAY - OUTSIDE SECURITY DOOR - DAY

The marine guard motions Wilks to the sensor. A scanning 
laser taps a red dot against his eye. The door's comp I.D.s 
him in a blink, slides open.

 MARINE GUARD
 Go on in.

Wilks steps into the room.

INT. CONFERENCE ROOM - DAY

A large bland chamber, with an oval desk to seat about dozen 
people in the center of the room. Two of the seats are 
occupied. Major STEPHENS, from the Colonial Marines, no 
medals, desk pilot bound. The other Agent WAIDSLAW ORONA 
from the TIA (Terran Intelligence Agency). Think Feds but 
expand the interests into space as well. Wilks comes to 
attention and salutes.

 STEPHENS 
 At ease, marine.

Orona gets up and walks over to Wilks, hand extended warmly.

 ORONA
 Corporal Wilks. A pleasure.

Wilks' deadpan expression remains unmoved. His eyes forward, 
hands behind his back, full attention. Orona nods, and 
withdraws.

 ORONA
 Well, let's get this going, shall we? 
 You saw the recording.

 WILKS
 I saw it.

 ORONA
 What did you think?

 WILKS
 I thought she'd have made a better marine 
 than three-fourths our corps.

 STEPHENS (O.S.)
 Wilks...

ANGLE ON STEPHENS as he regard the marine with clasped hands 
and discriminating impression. He motions to Orona. 

 STEPHENS 
 This is Agent Orona, from the TIA. 

 ORONA
 Waidslaw is fine. Now, that recording 
 was taken over sixty years ago. I 
 believe that was our first contact with 
 the species. Why we are unsure, well 
 unfortunately the responsible party who 
 made the first contact became a little 
 too ambitious and nearly kept it away 
 from the rest of society. 

TIGHT ON STEPHENS chiming in again.

 STEPHENS 
 Weyland Yutani International. They're up 
 to their necks in lawsuits with the 
 Acheron incident. A lot of people died 
 and a lot of our marines as well. 

 ORONA
 Most unfortunate. Now I understand you 
 ran into these things before, didn't you?

 WILKS
 Yeah.

 ORONA
 Tell me about it.

Wilks turns his head.

 WILKS
 What can I tell you that you don't 
 already know? You've seen the recordings 
 of my examination, haven't you?

 ORONA
 You were being evaluated, under close 
 eyes. Consider this chit-chat.

 WILKS
 Do I have stupid tattooed on my forehead? 
 If there isn't a battery of recording 
 gear going full blast right now I'll eat 
 that fucking table. 

 ORONA
 Corporal, I assure you...

 STEPHENS 
 Wilks, give him your story. That's an 
 order. 

Wilks glowers at Stephens, but protocol wins over.

 WILKS
 All right. I was part of a unit sent to 
 check on a colony on Rim. We'd lost 
 contact with them. We found one 
 survivor, a little girl named Billie. 
 Everybody else had been slaughtered by 
 some kind of alien. Same thing that got 
 Ripley's crew on that recording. One of 
 them got onto the lander when it dusted 
 off. Killed the pilot, crashed it. We 
 had a full platoon, stuck on the ground. 
 Only myself, two other marines, and the 
 little girl made it out. They shipped 
 her off to live with relatives on Ferro, 
 after they wiped her memory. She was a 
 good kid, considering all the shit she 
 saw. Later I heard there was another 
 nest of the things somewhere, killed 
 another colony. Supposedly a marine and 
 a couple of civilians got away from that 
 one, too.

 ORONA
 Yes, that was Acheron. 

 WILKS
 When I got back, the medics patched me 
 up, then took my brain apart. Only thing 
 was, all of a sudden nobody wanted to 
 know from aliens eating colonists and 
 laying eggs in them. It got buried. Top 
 secret, total wipe like the kid if I 
 opened my mouth. I lost contact with the 
 other surviving marines. I assumed they 
 were treated the same way. That was more 
 than a dozen years ago. End of story.

Orona nods to himself, and moves off, mulling over his words. 

 STEPHENS 
 You got a bad attitude, Wilks. 

 ORONA (O.S.)
 Mr. Stephens.

ON ORONA back to his smiling self.

 ORONA
 Do you suppose I might have a word with 
 the corporal alone?

 STEPHENS 
 (nodding)
 All right. Corporal, I'll talk to you 
 later. 

Stephens leaves. An odd moment of silence between the two in 
the room. Orona gestures to a chair. 

 ORONA
 Why don't you have a seat, Mr. Wilks.

 WILKS
 Why don't you cut the bullshit and get to 
 it, Waidslaw. 

 ORONA
 All right. I understand your anxiety. 
 Stop me if I get any of it wrong. After 
 you managed to escape Rim, you spend six 
 months in quarantine like the others, to 
 make sure you weren't infected with some 
 kind of alien virus. Nobody even tried 
 to see you, no personal visits, nada. 
 You wouldn't even let them reconstruct 
 your face.

 WILKS
 Chicks love scars. Makes'em sympathetic.

 ORONA
 When you were put back on active duty, 
 you turned into a chemhound. Nine 
 arrests and subsequent terms in the brig 
 for Stoned and Disorderly. Three for 
 assault, two for damage to property, one 
 for attempted homicide.

 WILKS
 Guy had a big mouth.

 ORONA
 I specialize in genetics, Corporal, but 
 anybody who's ever taken a psych course 
 can see you're on a one-way trip down the 
 reaction tubes.

 WILKS
 What do you care? It's my life.

Orona moves in close to Wilks. 

 ORONA
 When the clowns from Weyland Yutani tried 
 controlling this species, twice, lives 
 and money had been wasted. What could 
 have been potential remarkable 
 discoveries all ended up as craters the 
 size of the former U.S. We think they 
 are still alive out there.

 WILKS
 Ask me if I care.

 ORONA
 Oh, you should, Corporal. We have strong 
 reason to believe a pharmaceutical 
 corporation has been in possession of 
 them now for years tucked away in a 
 facility out of our borders. We believe 
 that is how they are generating billions 
 of dollars in the past decade. I'm sure 
 you've probably used one of their 
 products. They're the leading 
 distributor of today's nonabrasive 
 stimulants and high-performance drugs. 

No response. Orona studies him, and turns away.

 ORONA
 Since Weyland went down, some hard 
 decisions needed to be made. Progress is 
 happening here at a frightening pace, and 
 as a consequence, rules need to be 
 redefined and amended. The Supreme Court 
 has already made a decision. They are 
 putting the clamps down on patentable 
 life forms making it difficult for any 
 exclusive rights.
 (beat)
 Bottom line is, if our suspicions are 
 true, then we have an unlicensed product 
 here. We will stop them anyway, legally 
 or by force. I want you to go there, 
 check it out, and if they have one, bring 
 it to me. 

 WILKS
 You're insane. I won't volunteer for it.

 ORONA
 Oh, but you will.

For the first time in awhile, we SEE Wilks blink. Animated 
now, nervous, perhaps even scared. Orona senses it, turns to 
Wilks with a renewed smile, pushes the blade deeper, 
twisting.

 ORONA
 You know that little girl you rescued? 
 She's actually here. On Earth. In a 
 mental center. They keep her sedated and 
 run a lot of tests on her.

Wilks loses the facade, looks at Orona.

 ORONA
 Poor child. She has these recurring 
 nightmares, you see. Apparently the 
 brainwipe didn't completely take. She 
 remembers things, in her dreams. It's 
 quite sad. No family anywhere. No 
 friends. A lonely victim just like you. 
 Even the Church of Jesus Christ thinks 
 she's beyond help. 
 (beat)
 She could disappear in a blink of an eye. 
 You could take her place and wind up in 
 there as well. We could do a lot of 
 things if you don't do the right thing.

 WILKS
 (beat)
 Okay, I'll go.

Orona draws back his lips, smiling. 

INT. LOBBY - NEW ANNAPOLIS NAVAL BASE - DAY

Colbert enters the building through SLIDING DOORS and 
approaches the receptionist desk. A striking red head 
working there sees him, notices the brass, gives him a bright 
smile.

 RECEPTIONIST
 Good morning, Colonel.

 COLBERT
 Good morning. I'm trying to locate 
 Corporal Wilks. I understand he's 
 attending a meeting here.

 RECEPTIONIST
 Just a moment, sir, let me see what I 
 have here.
 (re:off her monitor)
 Yes. He was with Major Stephens, and Mr. 
 Waidslaw Orona from the TIA. They were 
 done not too long ago.

Colbert silently curses himself, not at all pleased missing 
it. 

 RECEPTIONIST
 Would you like me to contact them, sir? 
 To double check?

 COLBERT
 No, that's okay. Thank you.

 RECEPTIONIST
 (eying him)
 Anytime.

The woman smiles, with a just enough sigh to give off an oh-
what-things-could-have-been. Colbert notices, returns the 
favor with a grin, and quickly leaves.

INT. BAR JOINT - SOMEWHERE IN THE CITY

A genuine age old historical simulated wood-grain generic 
tavern right down to the ancient jukebox. Soft country music 
going in the b.g. as to a otherwise quiet joint. 

WILKS appears, takes a stool. He looks even older.

 WILKS
 Daniels.

He reaches into his shirt for his dog tags, fishes it out. 
He's about to pass it to the bartender when the phone console 
from the bar RINGS. The bartender motions for Wilks to wait 
and picks up the receiver.

 BARTENDER
 Joe's Joint.

GARBLED VOICE from the receiver. The bartender takes Wilks' 
tags, inserts it into a terminal, rings up a shot of Daniels.

 BARTENDER
 Hold on a sec'.
 (to Wilks)
 You're prolly Corporal Wilks, right?

Wilks pops a glance around the bar. He's the standout.

 WILKS
 Yeah.

The bartender hands him the receiver. Wilks takes it.

 WILKS
 (into phone)
 Yeah?

 COLBERT
 (over phone, filtered)
 Wilks. It's Colbert. Listen, I'm using 
 a land line. I can't be on long. We 
 need to talk. Meet me outside Hangar Ten 
 in fifteen, you copy? And be discrete.

 WILKS
 Wilco.

The receiver goes dead. Wilks returns the phone, knocks back 
his drink and slides off his stool.

EXT. HANGAR #10 - NEW ANNAPOLIS NAVAL BASE - DAY

Wilks is jogging along a side of the hangar. He comes around 
to the entrance --

INT. HANGAR #10 - DAY

Wilks enters, dodging out of the way of a passing cargo 
loader. Few if any workers acknowledging the strolling 
marine. He reaches the more quiet section of the hangar, 
passes under the belly of a Colonial transport vessel. 

 COLBERT (O.S.)
 Wilks...

Wilks turns, SEES Colbert emerging behind one of the vessel's 
giant landing struts. 

 COLBERT
 Is it true what they told you?

Wilks scoffs, turns his back on him. 

 COLBERT
 I didn't have much of a choice, Wilks. 
 We'd both swore under oath not to...

Colbert approaches him, sort of a beseeching manner, when 
suddenly, Wilks spins and SWINGS at him. Colbert quickly 
ducks under the punch, steps back defensively. Wilks squares 
off with him, fists clenched.

 WILKS
 Son of a bitch! You left everyone in the 
 can, dumping Billie in some insane 
 asylum, so you get to go parade around as 
 a hero?

 COLBERT
 What the hell are you talking about? 
 Jesus Christ, is that what you think 
 happened?

 WILKS
 You know the last thing I remember you 
 was, you were some punk kid thinking boot 
 camp is gonna get you all hard and tough.

Colbert puts on his best nonchalant expression. 

 COLBERT
 Striking a uniformed officer on 
 duty...with glasses on, it's going to add 
 nicely to the file I've put together for 
 you.

 WILKS
 You wanna throw in loitering as well in 
 front of an officer?

 COLBERT
 What the hell is wrong with you? It's 
 been thirteen years since Rim. I moved 
 on.

 WILKS
 Yeah, you have been moving on. 

 COLBERT
 No one felt the same pain like we have. 
 Do you think I'm jumping for joy every 
 morning I wake up after dreaming how all 
 of our men were killed on Rim? I wanted 
 to forget.

 WILKS
 Well, I guess we're back to the same 
 pretty shit now, aren't we? There's an 
 entire homeworld of those things and the 
 fucks from high-up want one down here.

Colbert looks away, contemplating. 

 COLBERT
 Jesus. I thought our nuke got them all.

 WILKS
 What are we going to do, Colbert? Now 
 I'm turning to you. What are we going to 
 do?

 COLBERT
 I don't know.

 WILKS
 Fucking great. That just beats it all.

 COLBERT
 What do you want me to do then? Lead a 
 parade into D.C.? You forget we're both 
 locked in our clauses. One fucking word 
 about LV-230 and we're finished.

 WILKS
 I'm already dead, Colbert.

They both look at each other. Hard reality hurts.

 COLBERT
 We need to get out of here.

Wilks grabs his arm before he turns.

 WILKS
 Wait. What about Billie?

 COLBERT
 You said she's here on Earth?

 WILKS
 We have to find her.

EXT. CITY STREET - DAY

A quiet two-lane street. Suddenly --

A Humvee appears over the crest of a hill.

INT. COLBERT'S HUMVEE - DAY

Colbert sits behind the wheel in two-way communications with 
a console just under the dashboard. Wilks is on the 
passenger side. 

 LARA (V.O.)
 You're asking me to crack the C.M.C. 
 medical database, Jason. They'll hang my 
 butt out to dry if they find out. 

 COLBERT
 I know. I need this favor, Kat. 

On the phone console is the glum face of Lieutenant Katherine 
LARA. She wears a USCM nylon baseball cap with a computer 
light-pen tucked in her ear.

 LARA (V.O.)
 The things I do for you. Gimmie a sec.

She slides off the screen. We hear filtered typing.

 WILKS
 How did you know?

 COLBERT
 Someone sent an encoded file inside my 
 mail this morning. I probably wouldn't 
 have known until it was too late.

 WILKS
 Who sent it?

 COLBERT
 I thought it was Massey at first. The 
 Corps locked him up in a psych center 
 right after you were transferred from our 
 battalion. He didn't take it too well. 
 He escaped about a week later, and no 
 one's seen him since.

 WILKS
 They get to him?

 COLBERT
 No. I don't think so.

 LARA (V.O.)
 Jeez. They have this thing tighter than 
 a corkscrew.

 COLBERT
 Problems?

 LARA (V.O.)
 I'm trying to slip through their 
 firewall. A couple of them actually. 
 Hold on, they're doing a trace program.

Wilks looks down with Colbert.

 LARA (V.O.)
 Bingo. Okay, I'm in. 

 COLBERT
 Good. I need you to search the files 
 from a mission thirteen years ago. LV-
 230. There's only one. There should be 
 a girl named Billie in there.

 LARA (V.O.)
 Jason, you're in here also.

 COLBERT
 I know. Does it say where she is 
 currently on Earth?

 LARA (V.O.)
 I'm sending you the data now. What's 
 going on here?

 COLBERT
 I'll tell you all about it some other 
 time, Kat. Thanks a lot.