Quotes (118)

Private Hudson: Hey Vasquez, have you ever been mistaken for a man?

Private Vasquez: No. Have you?

Ripley: [when the alien queen threatens Newt] Get away from her, you bitch!

Ripley: You know, Burke, I don't know which species is worse. You don't see them fucking each other over for a goddamn percentage.

Ripley: They cut the power.

Private Hudson: What do you mean *they* cut the power? How could they cut the power, man? They're animals!

Private Hudson: [after the drop ship crash] Well, that's great. That's just fuckin' great, man! Now what the fuck are we supposed to do? We're in some real pretty shit now, man!

Corporal Hicks: [grabs him by the shirt] Are you finished?

Newt: I guess we're not gonna be leaving now, right?

Ripley: I'm sorry, Newt.

Newt: You don't have to be sorry. It wasn't your fault.

Private Hudson: That's it, man. Game over, man. Game over! What the fuck are we gonna do now? What are we gonna do?

Burke: Maybe we can build a fire, sing a couple of songs, huh? Why don't we try that?

Newt: We'd better get back 'cause it'll be dark soon and they mostly come at night. Mostly.

Ripley: Well, somebody's gonna have to go out there. Take a portable terminal, go out there and patch in manually.

Private Hudson: Oh yeah, sure! With those things runnin' around? You can count me out.

Corporal Hicks: Yeah, I guess we can just count you out of everything, Hudson.

Bishop: [speaking under Hicks] I'll go.

Private Hudson: That's right, man.

Bishop: I'll go.

Private Hudson: Hey, why don't *you* go, man!

Bishop: [more loudly] I'll go.

Ripley: What?

Bishop: I'll go. I mean, I'm the only one qualified to remote-pilot the ship anyway.

Private Hudson: Yeah right, man, Bishop should go.

[Vasquez looks at Hudson with disgust]

Private Hudson: Good idea!

Bishop: Believe me, I'd prefer not to. I may be synthetic, but I'm not stupid.

Ripley: Did IQs just drop sharply while I was away?

Private Hudson: Stop your grinnin' and drop your linen!

Ripley: How long after we're declared overdue can we expect a rescue?

Corporal Hicks: [pause] Seventeen days.

Private Hudson: Seventeen *days*? Hey man, I don't wanna rain on your parade, but we're not gonna last seventeen hours! Those things are gonna come in here just like they did before. And they're gonna come in here...

Ripley: Hudson!

Private Hudson: ...and they're gonna come in here AND THEY'RE GONNA GET US!

Ripley: Hudson! This little girl survived longer than that with no weapons and no training.

[to Newt]

Ripley: Right?

[Newt apes a salute]

Private Hudson: Why don't you put *her* in charge?

Newt: My mommy always said there were no monsters - no real ones - but there are.

Ripley: Yes, there are, aren't there?

Newt: Why do they tell little kids that?

Ripley: Most of the time it's true.

Private Vasquez: Look, man. I only need to know one thing: where they are.

Private Drake: Go, Vasquez. Kick ass.

Private Vasquez: Anytime, anywhere, man!

Private Hudson: Right, right. Somebody said "alien" she thought they said "illegal alien" and signed up!

Private Vasquez: Fuck you, man!

Private Hudson: Anytime, anywhere.

Sergeant Apone: [after the briefing] All right sweethearts, you heard the man and you know the drill. Assholes and elbows! Hudson, come here! Come *here*!

Ripley: How many drops is this for you, Lieutenant?

Lieutenant Gorman: Thirty eight... simulated.

Private Vasquez: How many *combat* drops?

Lieutenant Gorman: Uh, two. Including this one.

Private Drake: Shit.

Private Hudson: Oh, man...

Burke: [about the facehuggers] Look, those two specimens are worth millions to the bio-weapons division. Now, if you're smart, we can both come out of it as heroes and we'll be set up for life.

Ripley: You're crazy Burke, you know that? You really think that you can get a dangerous organism like that past ICC quarantine?

Burke: How can they impound it if they don't know about it?

Ripley: Oh, they *will* know about it, Burke, from me. Just like they'll know that you were responsible for the deaths of 158 colonists here.

Burke: Wait a second...

Ripley: You sent them to that ship.

Burke: You're wrong.

Ripley: I just checked the colony log. Dated 0-6-1-2-7-9, signed Burke, Carter J. You sent them out there and you didn't even warn them. Why didn't you warn them, Burke?

Burke: Okay, look. What if that ship didn't even exist, huh? Did you ever think about that? I didn't know! So now, if I went in and made a major security issue out of it, everybody steps in. Administration steps in, and there are no exclusive rights for anybody; nobody wins. So I made a decision and it was... wrong. It was a bad call, Ripley. It was a bad call.

Ripley: Bad call?

[Ripley grabs Burke by his vest and shoves him against a wall]

Ripley: These people are *dead*, Burke! Don't you have any idea what you have done here? Well, I'm gonna make sure they nail you right to the wall for this! You're not gonna sleaze your way out of this one! Right to the wall!

[Ripley lets go of Burke]

Burke: Ripley...! You know, I... I expected more from you. I thought you'd be smarter than this.

Ripley: I'm happy to disappoint you.

[Ripley leaves]

Private Vasquez: [after barely surviving the alien surprise attack] All right. We got seven canisters of CM-20. I say we roll them in there and nerve gas the whole fuckin' nest.

Corporal Hicks: It's worth the try, but we don't know if that's gonna affect them.

Private Hudson: Look let's just bug out and call it even, okay? What are we even talking about this for?

Ripley: I say we take off and nuke the entire site from orbit. It's the only way to be sure.

Private Hudson: Fuckin' A!

Burke: Hold on, hold on just a second. This installation has a substantial dollar value attached to it.

Ripley: They can *bill* me.

Burke: Okay, I know this is an emotional moment for all of us, okay? I know that. But let's not make snap judgments, please. This is clearly... clearly an important species we're dealing with and I don't think that you or I, or *anybody*, has the right to arbitrarily exterminate them.

Ripley: [laughs feebly] Wrong.

Private Vasquez: Yeah. Watch us.

Private Hudson: Hey, maybe you haven't been keeping up on current events, but we just got our asses kicked, pal!

Burke: Look. I'm not blind to what's going on, but I cannot authorize that kind of action. I'm sorry.

Ripley: Well, I believe that Corporal Hicks... has authority here.

Burke: *Corporal* Hicks has...

Ripley: This operation is under military jurisdiction and Hicks is next in chain of command. Am I right, Corporal?

Corporal Hicks: Yeah... yeah, that's right.

Burke: Yeah... Look, Ripley, this is a multi-million dollar installation, okay? He can't make that kind of decision. He's just a grunt! Uh, no offense.

Corporal Hicks: [coldly] None taken.

Corporal Hicks: [into headset] Ferro, do you copy?

Corporal Ferro: [on comms] Standing by.

Corporal Hicks: Prepare for dust-off. We're gonna need immediate evac.

Corporal Ferro: [on comms] Roger. On our way.

Corporal Hicks: I say we take off, nuke the site from orbit.

[looks to Ripley]

Corporal Hicks: It's the only way to be sure.

[Ripley smiles]

Lieutenant Gorman: Any questions?

[Hudson raises his hand]

Lieutenant Gorman: What is it, Private?

Private Hudson: How do I get out of this chickenshit outfit?

Sergeant Apone: You secure that shit, Hudson!

Private Hudson: [puts his rifle against Burke's head] I say we grease this rat-fuck son-of-a-bitch right now.

Corporal Hicks: It just doesn't make any goddamn sense.

Ripley: He figured that he could get an alien back through quarantine, if one of us was... impregnated... whatever you call it, and then frozen for the trip home. Nobody would know about the embryos we were carrying... me and Newt.

Corporal Hicks: Wait a minute, now... we'd all know.

Ripley: Yes. The only way he could do it is if he sabotaged certain freezers on the way home... namely, yours. Then he could jettison the bodies and make up any story he liked.

Private Hudson: Fuck. He's dead. You're dog-meat, pal!

Burke: This is so nuts. I mean, listen - listen to what you're saying. It's paranoid delusion. How - It's really sad. It's pathetic.

Ripley: You know, Burke, I don't know which species is worse. You don't see them fucking each other over for a goddamn percentage.

Corporal Hicks: All right, we waste him. No offense.

Ripley: No. He's gotta go back.

Private Vasquez: You always were an asshole, Gorman!

Ripley: These people are here to protect you. They're soldiers.

Newt: It won't make any difference.

Private Frost: Hot as hell in here.

Private Hudson: Yeah man, but it's a dry heat!

Private Hudson: Hey, maybe you haven't been keeping up on current events, but we just got our asses kicked, pal!

Bishop: [puzzled by Ripley's reaction towards him] Is there a problem?

Burke: I'm sorry. I don't know why I didn't even... Ripley's last trip out, the syn- the artificial person malfunctioned.

Ripley: "Malfunctioned"?

Burke: There were problems and a-a few deaths were involved.

Bishop: I'm shocked. Was it an older model?

Burke: Yeah, the Hyperdine System's 120-A2.

Bishop: Well, that explains it then. The A2s always were a bit twitchy. That could never happen now with our behavioral inhibitors. It is impossible for me to harm or by omission of action, allow to be harmed, a human being.

Sergeant Apone: All right, sweethearts, what are you waiting for? Breakfast in bed? Another glorious day in the Corps! A day in the Marine Corps is like a day on the farm. Every meal's a banquet! Every paycheck a fortune! Every formation a parade! I *love* the Corps!

Lieutenant Gorman: [referring to the knife game] I thought you never missed, Bishop.

[Ripley looks up to see a white milky substance leaking from between Bishop's thumb and index fingers]

Ripley: [to Burke in an accusatory tone] You never said anything about an android being on board! Why not?

Burke: Pff, it never... never occurred to me. It's just common practice. We always have a synthetic on board.

Bishop: I prefer the term "Artificial Person" myself.

Private Hudson: Man, this floor is freezing.

Sergeant Apone: What do you want me to do, fetch your slippers for you?

Private Hudson: Gee, would you, sir? I'd like that.

[Apone pulls down the skin under his left eye with middle finger]

Sergeant Apone: Look into my eye.

[special edition]

[during the drop to LV-426]

Private Hudson: I'm ready, man, check it out. I am the *ultimate* badass! State of the badass art! You do not wanna fuck with me. Check it out! Hey Ripley, don't worry. Me and my squad of ultimate badasses will protect you! Check it out! Independently targeting particle beam phalanx. Vwap! Fry half a city with this puppy. We got tactical smart missiles, phased plasma pulse rifles, RPGs, we got sonic electronic ball breakers! We got nukes, we got knives, sharp sticks...

Sergeant Apone: Knock it off, Hudson. All right, gear up.

Lieutenant Gorman: Hicks, meet me at the south lock. We're coming in.

Corporal Hicks: Roger.

Private Hudson: [to Vasquez] He's comin' in. I feel safer already.

Private Vasquez: Pendejo jerk off...

Private Hudson: We're on an express elevator to hell, going down!

Bishop: [echoing a compliment Ripley paid to him] Not bad for a human.

Private Vasquez: LET'S ROCK!

[open fires]

Corporal Ferro: [as dropship enters atmosphere] We're in the pipe, five by five.

[the Marines are all hard at work, preparing for the drop]

Ripley: Hey, I feel like kind of a fifth wheel around here. Is there anything I can do?

Sergeant Apone: I don't know, is there anything you can do?

Ripley: ...Well, I can drive that loader. I have a Class-2 rating.

Sergeant Apone: Be my guest.

[Ripley mounts the second loader, activates it, then casually drives it to pick up a cargo container]

Ripley: [nonchalantly] Where do you want it?

[Hicks grins, and Apone booms with laughter]

Sergeant Apone: Bay Twelve, please.

Lieutenant Gorman: [to Apone over the radio] Look, uh, Apone.

[Apone snaps his fingers, bringing his troops to a halt]

Lieutenant Gorman: Look, we can't have any firing in there. I, uh... I want you to collect magazines from everybody.

Private Hudson: Is he fuckin' crazy?

Private Frost: What the hell are we supposed to use, man, harsh language?

[Ripley slaps away the tray of food Bishop offers her]

Private Frost: I guess she don't like the cornbread, either.

Corporal Hicks: [1:18:42]

[sticks shotgun right inside an alien's mouth]

Corporal Hicks: Eat this!

[pulling out his pump-action shotgun]

Corporal Hicks: I like to keep this handy... for close encounters.

Private Frost: I heard *that*.

Private Hudson: Sir?

Lieutenant Gorman: What is it, Hicks?

Private Hudson: Hudson, sir. He's Hicks.

[signals to Hicks]

Lieutenant Gorman: What's the question?

Private Hudson: Is this gonna be a standup fight, sir, or another bug hunt?

Lieutenant Gorman: All we know is that there's still no contact with the colony and that a xenomorph may be involved.

Private Frost: Excuse me, sir, a-a what?

Lieutenant Gorman: A xenomorph.

Corporal Hicks: It's a bug hunt.

[a facehugger trapped in a stasis tube tries unsuccessfully to attack Burke]

Corporal Hicks: Looks like love at first sight to me. Oh, he likes you, Burke!

Private Hudson: Maybe we got 'em demoralized.

Insurance Man: Thank you Ripley, that will be all.

Ripley: [aggravated] Goddammit, that's *not* all! 'Cause if one of those things gets down here then that *will* be all! And all this...

[Ripley grabs up a few pieces of paper]

Ripley: This *bullshit* you think is so important...

[Ripley tosses the paper, scattering them]

Ripley: You can just kiss all of that goodbye!

Newt: We'd better get back, 'cause it'll be dark soon, and they mostly come at night... mostly.

Ripley: Lieutenant, what do those pulse rifles fire?

Lieutenant Gorman: 10 millimeter explosive tip caseless. Standard light armor piercing rounds. Why?

Ripley: Well, look where your team is. They're right under the primary heat exchangers.

Lieutenant Gorman: So?

Ripley: So, if they fire their weapons in there, won't they rupture the cooling system?

Burke: [interjecting] Ho, ho, ho. Yeah, she's absolutely right.

Lieutenant Gorman: So? So what?

Burke: Look, this whole station is basically a big fusion reactor, right? So you're talkin' about a thermonuclear explosion and adiós, muchachos.

Lieutenant Gorman: Oh, great. Wonderful. Shit!

Ripley: [to Jones, the cat] And you, you little shit-head... you're staying here.

Ripley: See you, Hicks.

Corporal Hicks: Dwayne. It's Dwayne.

Ripley: ...Ellen.

Corporal Hicks: [smiles weakly] Don't be gone long, Ellen.

[only in special edition]

[discussing where the eggs come from]

Private Hudson: Maybe it's like an ant-hive?

Private Vasquez: Bees, man. Bees have hives!

Lieutenant Gorman: Drake, check your camera. There seems to be a malfunction.

[Drake smacks his head and camera against a nearby support, the picture clears]

Lieutenant Gorman: That's better.

Private Hudson: [reading a motion detector] I got signals. I got readings, in front and behind.

Private Frost: Where, man? I don't see shit.

Corporal Hicks: He's right. There's nothin' back here.

Private Hudson: Look, I'm telling ya, there's somethin' movin' and it ain't us! Tracker's off scale, man. They're all around us, man. Jesus!

Corporal Dietrich: Maybe they don't show up on infrared at all...

[an alien pounces on her and drags her up to the ceiling]

[Burke greets Ripley at the hospital after she has been rescued from hypersleep]

Burke: I'm Burke. Carter Burke. I work for the company. But don't let that fool you, I'm really an okay guy. I'm glad to see you're feeling a little better. They, uh, they tell me that all the weakness and disorientation should pass soon. It's just natural side effects of such an unusually long hypersleep, or something like that.

Ripley: What do you mean? How long was I out there?

Burke: [stunned] Has no one discussed this with you yet?

Ripley: No. But, I mean, I don't... recognize this place.

Burke: [visibly uncomfortable] No, I know. Uh, okay, it's just that, uh, this might be a shock to you. It's long...

Ripley: *How* long? Please.

Burke: [after a pause] Fifty-seven years.

Ripley: [stunned disbelief] What?

Burke: That's the thing. You were out there for fifty-seven years. What happened was, you had drifted right through the core systems, and it's really just blind luck that a deep salvage team found you when they did. It's one in a thousand, really. I think you're damn lucky to be alive, kiddo. You could be floating out there forever.

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!

Ripley: They grab the colonists, they move them over there and they immobilize them to be hosts for more of these. Which would mean that there would have to be a lot of these parasites, right? One for each colonist. That's over a hundred at least.

Bishop: Yes, that follows.

Ripley: But each one of these things comes from an egg, right? So who's laying these eggs?

Bishop: I'm not sure. It must be something we haven't seen yet.

[after Ripley and Newt's narrow rescue by Bishop]

Bishop: I'm sorry if I scared you. That platform was just becoming too unstable. I had to circle and hope that things didn't get too rough to take you off.

Ripley: Bishop, you did okay.

Bishop: I did?

Ripley: Oh, yeah.

Ripley: [pointing to part of gun Hicks is showing her] What's this?

Corporal Hicks: That's the grenade launcher. I don't think you want to mess with that.

Ripley: You started this. Show me everything. I can handle myself.

Corporal Hicks: [chuckles] Yeah, I noticed.

Ripley: [referring to the doll] Look, no bad dreams there.

Newt: Ripley, she doesn't have bad dreams because she's just a piece of plastic.

Ripley: Just tell me one thing, Burke. You're going out there to destroy them, right? Not to study. Not to bring back. But to wipe them out.

Burke: That's the plan. You have my word on it.

Ripley: All right, I'm in.

Private Frost: Man, I'm telling you, I got a bad feeling about this drop.

Private Crowe: You always say that, Frost. You always say, "I got a bad feeling about this drop."

Private Frost: Okay, okay. When we get back without you, I'll call your folks.

[Hicks is dozing through an extremely turbulent entry into a planetoid's atmosphere]

Sergeant Apone: Somebody wake up Hicks.

Private Hudson: They're coming outta the walls. They're coming outta the goddamn walls. Let's book!

Corporal Hicks: Remember: short, controlled bursts.

Corporal Dietrich: Looks like some sort of secreted resin.

Corporal Hicks: Yeah, but secreted from what?

[repeated line]

Sergeant Apone: Knock it off, Hudson!

Private Drake: Hey, Hicks. Man, you look just like I feel.

Private Vasquez: Hey, mira, who's Snow White?

Corporal Ferro: She's supposed to be some kinda consultant. Apparently she saw an alien once.

Private Hudson: Whoopee-fuckin'-do. Hey, I'm impressed.

Corporal Hicks: Drake, we are LEAVING!

[Hudson is frantically mowing down aliens]

Private Hudson: Come on! Come on! Come and get it, baby! Come on! I don't got all day! Come on! Come on! Come on you bastard! Come on, you too! Oh, you want some of this? Fuck you!

[last lines]

Newt: Are we gonna sleep all the way home?

Ripley: All the way home.

Newt: Can I dream?

Ripley: Yes, honey. I think we both can.

[tucks Newt in]

Ripley: Sleep tight.

Newt: I-ffirmative.

[Hudson is reading a motion detector which indicates the alien horde should have passed the door by now]

Private Hudson: It's reading right man, look!

Corporal Hicks: Well, you're not reading *it* right!

Lieutenant Gorman: [to Apone over the mic while the aliens are attacking the marines] I want you to lay down a suppressing fire with the incinerators and fall back by squads to the APC, over.

Sergeant Apone: Say again? All after incinerators?

Lieutenant Gorman: [irritated] I said I want you to lay down a suppressing fire with the incinerators and fall back by squads to the APC...

[an alien sneaks up behind Apone and attacks him, his screams heard over the mic while his video feed goes dead]

Lieutenant Gorman: Apone... talk to me.

[more insistent]

Lieutenant Gorman: Apone, talk to me...

Ripley: He's gone!

Private Hudson: Hey top, what's the op?

Sergeant Apone: It's a rescue mission, you'll love it. There's some juicy colonists' daughters we have to rescue from their virginity.

Ripley: Bishop, how much time?

Bishop: Plenty, 26 minutes!

Ripley: We're not leaving!

Bishop: We're not?

Ripley: Van Leuwin, why don't you just check out LV426?

Van Leuwin: Because I don't have to. There have been people living there for 20 years and they've never complained about any hostile organisms.

Ripley: What do you mean? What people?

Van Leuwin: Terraformers, planet engineers. They go in, set up these big atmosphere processors to make the air breathable. Takes decades. It's what we call a shake-n-bake colony.

Med Tech: Do you want something to help you sleep?

Ripley: No, I've slept enough.

Bishop: I'm afraid I have some bad news.

Private Hudson: Well, that's a switch.

Private Hudson: [frightened] We're all gonna die, man.

Corporal Hicks: Looks like the new lieutenant's too good to eat with the rest of us grunts.

Private Frost: Boy's definitely got a corncob up his ass.

Private Drake: They ain't paying us enough for this, man.

Corporal Dietrich: Not enough to have to wake up to *your* face, Drake.

Private Drake: What? Is that a joke?

Corporal Dietrich: Oh, I wish it were.

Private Hudson: Oh dear Lord Jesus, this ain't happening, man... This can't be happening, man! This isn't happening!

[the Marines are being torn apart by the aliens in the atmosphere processor hive]

Corporal Hicks: Where's Apone? Where's Apone?

Private Hudson: The Sarge is gone! Let's get the fuck outta here!

Corporal Hicks: We're all in strung out shape, but stay frosty, and alert. We can't afford to let one of those bastards in here.

Burke: Busy little creatures, huh?

Private Frost: Hey, I sure wouldn't mind getting some more of that Arcturian poontang! Remember that time?

Private Spunkmeyer: Yeah, Frost, but the one that you had was a male!

Private Frost: It doesn't matter when it's Arcturian, baby!

Ripley: [to Newt] I will never leave you. That's a promise.

Private Hudson: [knowing that the Aliens are close, Hicks and Vasquez are welding the door shut] Movement. Signal's clean. Range, twenty meters.

Ripley: They've found a way in, something we've missed.

Corporal Hicks: We didn't miss anything.

Private Hudson: Seventeen meters.

Ripley: [checking the tracker] Something under the floor, not in the plans, I don't know.

Private Hudson: Fifteen meters.

Newt: Ripley.

Corporal Hicks: Definitely inside the barricades.

Newt: Let's go.

Private Hudson: Tweleve meters.

Ripley: That's right outside the door. Hicks, Vasquez get back.

Private Hudson: Man, this is a big fuckin' signal.

Corporal Hicks: How are we doing, Vasquez? Talk to me.

Private Vasquez: Almost there.

[they weld the door shut and step back away from the door]

Private Vasquez: They're right on us.

Corporal Hicks: Remember: short, controlled bursts.

Private Hudson: Nine meters. Seven. Six.

Ripley: That can't be; that's inside the room.

Private Hudson: It's reading right man, look!

Corporal Hicks: Then you're not reading *it* right.

Private Hudson: Five meters, man. Four. What the hell?

[after making a plan to weld the doors shut and put the sentry units]

Corporal Hicks: Outstanding. Now all we need is a deck of cards.

Ripley: There's still time.

Bishop: In nineteen minutes, this area's gonna be a cloud of vapor the size of Nebraska.

[first lines]

Salvage Team Leader: Bio-readouts are all in the green, looks like she's alive. Well, there goes our salvage, guys.

[in the Special Edition]

Ripley: [finds out that her daughter had died 2 years before] Amy... I promised her I'd be home for her birthday. Her 11th birthday.

Ripley: Hicks, don't let him leave.

Corporal Hicks: We ain't goin' anywhere.

Private Hudson: [after Bishop performs the knife trick on his hand, hysterically] That wasn't funny, man!

Lieutenant Gorman: Ripley, what the *hell* are you doing?

Ripley: Try this. It's a little hot chocolate. There you go. That good, huh ? Uh oh. I made a clean spot here. Now I've done it. Guess I'll have to do the whole thing. Hard to believe there's a little girl under all this. And a pretty one too. You don't talk much, do you? I don't know how you managed to stay alive. But you're one brave Kid Rebecca.

Newt: Newt.

Ripley: What'd you say ?

Newt: Newt. My name's Newt. Nobody calls me Rebecca, except my brother.

Ripley: Newt ? I like that. I'm Ripley. It's nice to meet you.

[Bishop reads a medical chart describing the captured facehugger]

Bishop: "Surgically removed before embryo implantation. Subject: Marachek, John J., died during the procedure." They killed him taking it off.

Corporal Hicks: I wanna introduce you to a personal friend of mine. This is an M41A pulse rifle. Ten millimeter with over-and-under thirty millimeter pump action grenade launcher.

[Hicks hands the rifle to Ripley]

Corporal Hicks: Feel the weight.

Ripley: Okay. What do I do?

Private Vasquez: Whatever you're gonna do, do it fast!

Bishop: [to Ripley] I may be synthetic, but I'm not stupid.

Ripley: [to Newt] Now go to sleep and don't dream.

Ripley: I don't believe this. You guys throw me at the wolves, and now you want me to go back out there? Forget it. It's not my problem.

Burke: Can I finish ?

Ripley: No. There's no way.

Lieutenant Gorman: Ripley, you wouldn't be going in with the troops. I can guarantee your safety.

Burke: These colonials marines are very though hombres. They're packing state of the art firepower. There's nothing they can't handle. Lieutenant, am I right ?

Lieutenant Gorman: That's true. We've been trained to deal with situations like this.

Newt: [to Ripley after they return to the ship] I knew you'd come.

Private Spunkmeyer: [during breakfast] What's this crap supposed to be?

Private Frost: Cornbread, I think.

Corporal Hicks: It's good for you, boy. Eat it.

Sergeant Apone: All right, sweethearts, you're a team and there's nothin' to worry about. We come here, and we gonna conquer, and we gonna kick some, is that understood? That's what we gonna do, sweethearts, we are going to go and get some. All right, people, on the ready line! Are ya lean?

Marines: Yeah!

Sergeant Apone: Are ya mean?

Marines: Yeah!

Sergeant Apone: WHAT ARE YOU?

Marines: Lean and mean!

Sergeant Apone: WHAT ARE YOU? HUDSON! Get on the ready line, Marines, get some today! Get on the ready line! Move it out! Move it out, goddammit! Get hot! One, two, three, four! Get out, get out, get out! Move it out, move it out, move it out! Move it out, move it out, move it out! One, two, three, four, five, six, seven! Aaarrrrr, absolutely badassess! Let's pack 'em in! Get in there!

Ripley: Do you have any news about my daughter ?

Burke: Well we did come up with some informations. Why don't we sit down. I was hoping to wait until after the inquest... Amanda Ripley-McClaren - married name, I guess - aged 66. And that was the time of her death. Which was two years ago. I'm really sorry.

Ripley: Amy...

Burke: Um... She was cremated and interred at Westlake Repository, Little Chute, Wisconsin. No children. I checked.

Ripley: I'd promised her... that I'll be home for her birthday, Her 11th birthday.

Sergeant Apone: Hudson, run a bypass.

Tribunal: A creature that gestates inside a human host, and has concentrated acid for blood. These are your words.

Lydecker: ...and wants to know if this claim will be honoured ?

Simpson: Why wouldn't this claim be honoured ?

Lydecker: Well. Because you sent them out there in particular middle of nowhere on company's orders, maybe ? I don't know.

Simpson: Christ ! Some honch in a cushy office on Earth says go look at a grid reference. We look. They don't say why, and I don't ask. I don't ask because it takes two weeks to get an answer out here, and the answer is always "Don't ask."

Lydecker: So what do I tell this guy ?

Simpson: Tell him as far as I'm concerned, if he finds something, it is his.

Med Tech: How are we today ?

Ripley: Terrible

Med Tech: Well, better than yesterday at least

Ripley: Where am I ?

Med Tech: You're Safe. You're at Gateway Station, been here a couple of days. You were pretty groggy at first, but now you're OK. Looks like you've got a visitor.

Ripley: Jonesy. Come here! Hey, come here. How are you, you stupid cat? How are you ? Were have you been ?

Burke: I guess you two have met, huh . I'm Burke. Carter Burke. I work for the company. But don't let that fool you. I'm really an OK guy. I'm glad to see that you're feeling a little bit better. They told me that all the weakness and desorientation should pass soon. It's just natural side effects of such an unusally long hypersleep, or something like that...

Ripley: What'd you mean, How long was I out there ?

Burke: Has no one discussed this with you yet ?

Ripley: No. But, I mean, I don't recognise this place.

Burke: No, I know. Uh... OK. It's just that, uh, this might be a shock to you. It's longer...

Ripley: How Long ? Please.

Burke: 57 years.

Ripley: What?

Burke: That's the thing. You're out there for 57 years. What happened is. You had drifted right through the core system, and It's really just blind luck that a deep-salvage team found you when they did. It was one in a thousand, really. I think you're damn lucky to be alive, kiddo. You could be floating out there forever.

Ripley: I dunno how you managed to stay alive, but you're one brave kid, Rebecca.

Newt: [whispers] N... Newt...

Ripley: What'd you say?

Newt: Newt. My name's Newt. Nobody calls me Rebecca, except my brother.

Corporal Hicks: [after the dropship crash] Okay. Is this everything?

Private Hudson: Yeah.

[putting weapons on the table]

Corporal Hicks: Okay, this is absolutely everything we've salvaged from the APC wreckage. We have four M-41A pulse rifles, fifty rounds each. That's not good. We have these M-40 grenades.

[seeing Newt touching one of the grenades]

Corporal Hicks: Don't touch that. Dangerous, honey.

Ripley: Is that the only flamethrower?

Corporal Hicks: Yeah, it's only half-full, but it's functional. The other one is damaged, I don't know about that one.

[reaching for a box]

Corporal Hicks: But the good news is that we have these sentry emplacements. Kick-ass, I think they'll come in handy.

Lieutenant Gorman: What's her name again?

Corporal Dietrich: Rebecca

Lieutenant Gorman: Now think Rebecca. Concentrate. Just start at the beginnings. Where are your parents? Now look Rebecca, you have to try...

Ripley: Gorman. Give it a rest, why don't you?

Lieutenant Gorman: Total brain lock.

Corporal Dietrich: Physically Bordeline malnutrtion, but not permanent damage.

Lieutenant Gorman: Come on. We are wasting our time.

Ripley: Try this. It's a little hot chocolate. There you go. Oup! That good, huh! Uh oh. I made a clean spot here. Now I 've done it. Guess I'll have to do the whole thing Hard to believe there's a little girl under all this. And a pretty one, too. You don't talk much, do you? I don't know how you managed to stay alive. But you're one brave kid, Rebecca.

Newt: Newt.

Ripley: What'd you say?

Newt: Newt. My name is Newt. Nobody calls me Rebecca except my brother.

Ripley: Newt? I'd like that. I'm Ripley. It's nice to meet you. And who is this ?

Newt: Casey.

Ripley: Hello, Casey. What about your brother? What's his name?

Newt: Timmy

Ripley: Is Timmy around here too? Maybe hiding like you were?... Any sisters ?... Mom and Dad ?... Newt. Look at me. Where are they?

Newt: They're dead, all right? Can I go now?

Ripley: I'm sorry Newt. Don't you think you'd be safer here with us? These people are here to protect you. They're soldiers.

Newt: It won't make any difference...

Private Hudson: [Vasquez wants to go back for the Marines left behind after the failed attack on the Alien nest] Fuck that!

[On whether she would return to LV-426]

Ripley: Now please leave. I am not going back, and I am... I would not be any good to you if I did.

Lieutenant Gorman: All right. Drake, this way. We should be able to cut through the Med-Lab to Operations.

Lieutenant Gorman: All right, let's see what we can see.

Newt's Father: Folks, we have scored big this time

Newt: What is it, Dad ?

Newt's Father: I'm not sure

[Hudson is in the hall with the motion-reader to detect the aliens' approach]

Private Hudson: The signal's weird. There must be some intereference or something. There's movement all over the place!

Corporal Hicks: Get back to Operations! It's game time.

Corporal Hicks: [while fleeing the Aliens on the APC] Ripley, go, go, go!

Newt: Don't go! I have scary dreams.

Private Vasquez: Whatever you're gonna do, do it fast!

Sergeant Apone: First assembly's in fifteen, people. Shag it!

Private Vasquez: Wake up, pendejo.

[Talking with a fainted Gorman]