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!

Film

Aliens - Scontro finale (1986)

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