Aliens creative background
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Ripley: It's very pretty Bishop but what're we looking for?
Bishop: [pointing at gas coming from the reactor] That's it. The emergency venting.
Private Hudson: Oh, that's beautiful, man. Oh man, that-that-that just beats it all.
Corporal Hicks: How long till it blows?
Bishop: Four hours. With a blast radius of thirty kilometers, equal to about forty megatons.
Corporal Hicks: We got problems.
Private Hudson: I don't believe this. I don't fucking *believe* this!
Corporal Hicks: Vasquez, close the shutters.
Ripley: Why can't we shut it down from here?
Bishop: I'm sorry, the crash caused too much damage. An overload... is inevitable at this point.
Private Hudson: Oh, man... and I was getting short. Four more weeks and out. Now I'm going to bite it on this rock. It ain't fair, man!
Private Vasquez: Hudson, give us a break!
Private Hudson: Four more weeks. Oh, man...
Ripley: Well, we gotta get the other dropship from the Sulaco. I mean, there must be some way of bringing it down on remote.
Private Hudson: How? The transmitter was on the APC. It's wasted.
Ripley: Well, I don't care how but we better think of something. We better think of a way.
Private Hudson: Think of what? We're *fucked*!
Corporal Hicks: [shouting over Hudson] Shut up!
Private Hudson: We're doomed!
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Lieutenant Gorman: All right, let's see what we can see.