- —四川最大高校综合门户网
ALIEN NATION Original Screenplay by Rockne S. OBannon Rewrite by James Cameron October 1987FADE IN:EXT. MOJAVE DESERT - DAY (TELEVISION IMAGE)A LONG LENS SHOT of a far distant metallic object hoveringjust above the ground -- maybe two or three miles away.The heat waves and the light re
Yes, sir.
WARNER
Good.
SYKES
There's another case I'd like to
take. A homicide -- a Newcomer
named Hubley.
Jetson looks over at Sykes, knows he's up to something.
Sykes avoids his look.
WARNER
Granger and Pitts are already on it.
SYKES
Granger and Pitts have one hell of a
caseload... and I would have thought
with Jetson here being the first
Newcomer plainclothes, and Hubley's
body being found over in the
Newcomer community...
WARNER
Don't tell me what to think.
GOLDRUP
He's got a point. That's the sort
of thing we should be doing with
this early advancement program...
Long-suffering Warner looks up at Goldrup, then finally
sighs with resignation. Sykes grins.
CUT TO:
INT. STAIRWELL - FIRST FLOOR HALLWAY - DAY
The steel door BANGS open and Sykes and Jetson exit. Next
to Sykes' slept-in look, Jetson in his grey suit looks
like a Jehovah's Witness canvasser. They move past all
the black-and-whites pulling out on p.m. watch during:
SYKES
... and we work my hours. I'll do
the driving, you do the paperwork.
You gotta learn it so you might as
well do it all.
JETSON
(after a moment)
Sergeant... I'd like to thank you
for what you're doing.
SYKES
What's that?
(then realizing)
Look, Jetson. Get this straight in
your head. We're not pals, we're
not married, and we ain't gonna take
long moonlight walks together...
We're just partners. And don't call
me Sergeant. Call me Sykes... or
Matt if you have to.
JETSON
I am George.
Sykes nods absently, and they walk on... four and a half
steps to be exact. Then it hits Sykes. He seizes up
cold.
SYKES
Wait a minute. George? George
Jetson?
Jetson nods... he's used to this.
Sykes cracks up.
SYKES
(between laughs)
Man, somebody really hung one on
you! I've heard some good ones for
you guys... Humphrey Bogart, Harley
Davidson. I guess the people at
immigration got a little punchy
after a while, coming up with names
for a quarter of a million of you.
You weren't at the back of the line,
were you, George?
JETSON
My true name is Ss'tangya
T'ssorentsa'.
SYKES
Gesundheit. You don't mind if I
stick to George, do you?
EXT. POLICE STATION PARKING AREA - DAY
They approach Sykes' ugly sedan, the slug-mobile.
SYKES
Anyway, what's it matter to you if
we think it's funny, right? Whatta
you care?
JETSON
That is exactly so.
(completely deadpan)
It is like your name... Sykes. I'm
sure it doesn't bother you at all
that it sounds like "ss'ai k'ss",
two words in my language which mean
"excrement" and "cranium".
Sykes looks at him, perplexed.
JETSON
"Shit... head".
Jetson gets in and slams the door, leaving Sykes standing
there, the smirk dropping from his face.
CUT TO:
INT. SLUG-MOBILE - DAY
They're cruising along in downtown traffic. Sykes drives.
Jetson is somewhat cramped in the passenger seat.
SYKES
Let's talk Hubley.
JETSON
(refers to a folder
he holds)
His body was discovered three days
ago, in an alley off of Central
Avenue, near downtown.
SYKES
With two BRI Sabot slugs in the
chest.
JETSON
