Pvt. Hudson
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Quotes for
Pvt. Hudson (Character)
from Aliens (1986)

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Aliens (1986)
Private Hudson: They're coming outta the walls. They're coming outta the goddamn walls. Let's book!

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...

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.

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.

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: Hey Vasquez, have you ever been mistaken for a man?
Private Vasquez: No. Have you?

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.

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

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: I'm afraid I have some bad news.
Private Hudson: Well, that's a switch.

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?

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.

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.

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

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.

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.

[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!

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...

[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.

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

[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!

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!

[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!

[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!

Private Hudson: Maybe we got 'em demoralized.

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]

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

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.

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?

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?

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.

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

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

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]

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: How many drops is this for you Lieutenant ?
Lieutenant Gorman: 38. Simulated
Private Vasquez: How many combat drops
Lieutenant Gorman: Uh. 2. Including this one...
Private Drake: Shit
Private Hudson: Ho, man !

Ripley: How many drops is this for you, Lieutenant?
Lieutenant Gorman: 38. Simulated.
Private Vasquez: How many combat drops?
Lieutenant Gorman: uh... Two. Including this one.
Private Drake: Shit!
Private Hudson: Oh, man.