Crichton: Whoo! This thing rocks!
Aeryn: "Rocks"?
Yeah, rocks, Aeryn, as in "kicks ass."
Oh? Well, I take it that means you're pleased.
But I'm still not convinced
that installing these Moya components was a good idea.
Great idea. Best idea I've had yet.
That's far from a recommendation.
Pilot, you still receiving us?
Pilot: Barely. Stellar flare activity wreaks havoc with communications.
If you keep moving out of the planet's shadow we'll lose contact entirely.
Crichton: Can't be helped, Pilot.
Solar flares are what I came to see.
Don't worry. We'll be home in time for dinner.
Be careful, John. This star is unusually erratic.
Sounds just like Crichton.
(loud boom)
Whoa! There's the lightning.
Make way for the thunder.
(loud boom)
(booming continues)
Pilot: It's reaching us even here.
We should adjust our orbit.
Zhaan?
Zhaan, are you all right?
Yes, Pilot.
Oh, these radiation levels
are well within Moya's tolerance, aren't they?
Moya's tolerance, yes.
However, there's still a small chance that it could affect her developing child.
Yes, of course.
Take Moya further into the planet's shadow.
Flight recorder getting all this?
You mean this retrograde magnetic recording device?
-Yeah, that. -Yes.
It was a solar flare, I think that opened up the wormhole that brought me here.
That and the slingshot maneuver I was flying at the time.
What do you call the maneuver we're doing now?
Slingshot.
Does that mean you're trying to create the same conditions to go back?
It's a long shot, but sometimes long shots pay off, Aeryn.
What now?
Holy mother.
That's a wormhole.
It looks unstable.
It's pulling us in.
Evasive systems! Crichton!
Full reverse thrusters!
Crichton!
My name is John Crichton, an astronaut...
...a radiation wave hit and I got shot through a wormhole...
Now I'm lost in some distant part of the universe on a ship.
a living ship full of strange alien life-forms...
Help me...
Listen, please.
Is there anybody out there who can hear me?
...being hunted by an insane military commander...
...doing everything I can...
I'm just looking for a way home.
Aeryn: Crichton, look at it. It isn't stable.
If we don't get away from it it's going to tear us apart.
Full thrusters. Crichton!
Crichton, are you listening?
Crichton!
Crichton: Yeah, I got it.
(yawning)
One would think one could grab a few miserable arns of sleep
without being shaken from one's bed.
Rygel, why must one always only think of one?
Pilot, any sign of them?
Not through all the interference.
Perhaps we should follow their trajectory and look for them.
D'Argo: Absolutely not.
Aeryn and Crichton are on their own.
We said that we'd leave this miserable planet as soon as Moya was ready.
Agreed. There's nothing down there we want anyway.
All right, so there's no reason for us to stay.
(gasping)
I could think of a reason.
Hmm? Hmm.
She's gone completely fahrbot.
Pilot: Yes, Delvian females are unusually sensitive to ionic radiation.
One of the gifts of the Delvian seek.
It's called a photogasm.
Rygel: Yech.
I'll get a mop and bucket.
Crichton: Whoo! Hey, hey, hey, happy campers! Anybody home?
John, can you hear us?
Yeah, Zhaan, I hear you fine.
Guess what just happened?
We just started a wormhole.
D'Argo: How nice.
Why don't you get aboard now so we can leave orbit?
What? D'Argo, obviously, you didn't hear me.
Read my lips: we just started a wormhole.
Can't get out of here right now.
Uh, we have a problem.
Pilot, I'm reading a plasma leak on the starboard propulsor.
Can you confirm?
Pilot: Confirmed.
You'd better prepare to abandon the module.
Do what?
Pilot: I'll ready the docking web to pull you and Crichton in.
Aeryn: Acknowledged. Better put your helmet on, Crichton.
Whoa, whoa, keep your hand off that eject button.
No way are we punching out.
You don't have a choice.
Pilot: You can't bring the module aboard while it's leaking plasma.
Yeah, we do. Moya can isolate it in the maintenance bay while we patch it.
Moya doesn't want to put her baby at risk.
Nor should she.
Crichton: Look, guys,
I might've just found a way home.
D'Argo: Your home, not ours.
Well, I am not going to trash my module if there's any chance to save it.
D'Argo: There isn't. Stop stalling.
Rygel.
Rygel!
What?
Just before the flare started you were on the horn down to the locals, right?
You said you talked to somebody who's some kind of m-mechanic?
What, it... name of, uh... Furball.
Ah... Fellow. Ah, Follow.
Something like that.
Furlow.
Right.
Pilot, give me the location of this Furlow.
Transmitting coordinates.
I forbid this.
Crichton: You know what, D'Argo?
Sometimes you're a real pain in the ass.
Crichton...
Crichton!
Pilot, re-establish contact.
I can't. The solar activity has reduced the range of the comms.
What is a pain in the ass?
Human speak, I believe, for someone irritating, stubborn, obnoxious.
Rygel: A simpleton, a dolt, idiot.
I get the idea.
Moron.
You're with me on this, right?
Oh, now it occurs to you to ask.
Look, sorry, okay?
I got a little caught up. I thought we were just going to collect some data.
I had no idea that we'd actually start a wormhole.
Well, we did. And you were ready to jump right into it.
No. No, I was not.
I could see it wasn't stable.
What if it had been? What if it was stable?
What would you have done then?
Flown straight into it without knowing where you'd come out the other side,
and you were taking me with you.
Next time, Crichton, you can fly solo.
Fine, Aeryn. Next time I will.
But right now, we have to get the module fixed.
No, actually, you need to.
Okay, I need to.
I need your help.
As usual.
(high-pitched beeps)
(rumbling overhead)
(engines roaring)
(steam hissing)
Furlow: Blown grezz conductor is my guess.
Maybe an ionized frangle as well.
Shouldn't be too tough to fix.
How soon?
Hard to say.
Should have it for you by nightfall, probably.
Are you sure you've got it contained?
Oh, don't you worry about that.
Old Furlow can handle it.
Everything's going to be just fine. That's my motto.
No, other way, you dumb welnitz!
Have to tell them everything.
Of course, I've never seen a spaceship like this before.
Hardly surprising.
Hardly looks spaceworthy.
Primitive alloys, no hetch drive...
This thing belongs in a collection, not in space.
Tell you what.
How about I do you favor and take this thing off your hands?
She's not for sale.
No, I just need her fixed so I can get back up there
before these flares go away entirely.
Think you might be out of luck.
These flares are going to die down before the day's out.
How soon do you expect them back?
Regular as clockwork; every 4.8 cycles.
Five years?!
Look, you're going to have to speed up the repairs.
What for?
I got to get back up there. I'm collecting data.
Oh, I see.
You do research into unusual spatial phenomena, do you?
Has this got anything to do with the repairs?
Just making conversation.
Don't make conversation.
Fix the module.
Crichton: Um...
Sorry if we seem a little pushy.
But we are in a hurry and you're obviously the best mechanic on the planet, so...
think maybe you can help us out?
Since you asked so nicely, I'll see what I can do.
Now, if you'd like to get out of my way so I can get on with my work?
By the way, you'll be needing these.
Nice glasses.
Furlow better be good.
We got to get back up there.
Pilot, can you read us?
Zhaan...
D'Argo?
D'Argo's just going to have to wait.
No, we're going to have to tell him something,
like we're going to be stuck on this dump for longer than we anticipated.
What's your problem?
You should be dancing in the streets.
You know, if I figure out a way to make a wormhole, I am out of here.
I'm out of your hair once and for all.
Unless you want to come with me. You know that offer's still open.
If you want to think about it.
No, I don't want to think about it.
-Talk about it. -No.
Crais: Attention!
There are fugitives among you.
Fugitives that can be worth a great deal to any one of you.
What is that?
It's a "wanted" beacon.
I am Captain Bialar Crais and I am offering a substantial reward
to anyone who can assist us in the recapture of three escaped prisoners.
Three?
The first...
is a Luxan male named Ka D'Argo.
The second, a Delvian female named Pa'u Zotoh Zhaan.
The third is a Hynerian who styles himself as Rygel the Sixteenth.
These three fugitives from Peacekeeper custody have violated their parole.
I know why I'm not there; Crais wants to kill me himself.
Why aren't you there?
Oh, I think I might have an answer.
Alien male: You!
(alien snarling)
Alien: Get away from there!
(beeping)
Crichton: Who the hell is this?
No idea.
Let me handle it.
Who are you?
Have you come in search of the fugitives?
We are just visitors here.
We have no interest in fugitives.
(growling): She's lying.
No, we're just curious about this beacon here.
Is this your female?
I am no one's female.
(snarling)
(growling)
Not your female, hmm?
Then you won't miss her.
(snarling growl)
Back off!
Get that weapon out of my face before I feed it to you.
(snarling)
Now, you tell your bitch to let my female go.
(questioning snarl)
Then this female is your mate.
One of them.
(snarling)
Now turn her loose!
(snorting)
Crichton: You!
You keep your damn mouth shut unless I tell you to speak.
(approving snarl)
Hey!
Now, who are you and what do you want with the fugitives?
We are Vorcarion Blood Trackers.
The best.
Second best.
(snarling)
I'm Butch.
This is Sundance.
We're the Hole In The Sky Gang.
Butch.
And Sundance.
I am Rorf.
Worf?
Rorf!
And this is my mate, Rorg.
Well, Rorf, you can forget about the fugitives.
Sundance, rip out that beacon.
I don't want any other idiots seeing it and getting a bright idea.
'Cause that bounty belongs to me.
(snarling)
Pilot: Solar flares are still making
long-range communication with the planet impossible.
We've waited for Crichton long enough.
Where's Zhaan?
(scoffs)
She's on the terrace, soaking up solar flares.
At a time like this?
Zhaan.
Zhaan!
Zhaan: Oh... let us never leave this place.
Rygel: I don't think you want to go after her.
She said something about leaving her clothes behind.
I've had enough of this.
The frell with Crichton's precious module.
I'm going down to that planet and drag them both back here myself.
Glad I could be of some help.
Crichton: So, what makes you think the fugitives are anywhere near here?
Rorf: The Leviathan ship they stole was sighted in a system not far from here.
We think this will be their next stop.
Any more of you on the way?
Well, there could be.
The wanted beacons were on several planets.
So why do you ask?
Just wondering...
how many more bounty hunters out of luck because these fugitives are mine.
(both snarling)
Knock it off!
What do you know about Luxans or Hynerians or Delvians?
(questioning grunt)
The beacon contained some information.
Crichton: The beacon is useless.
It doesn't tell you these fugitives won't be taken without a lot of blood spilled.
We like spilled blood.
(both laughing)
Crichton: Yeah, well, I don't.
Not my own.
How good are you two?
(snarls softly)
'Cause I might be willing to cut you in.
You help me capture the prisoners and I'll...
split the bounty, 70-30.
70... 40!
80...
40.
You in or out?
Are we in?
For now, hmm?
(laughing)
How long do you think your ruse is going to work?
It doesn't have to last long,
only long enough for the module to get fixed.
You know, you're taking this pretty well.
I figured you'd be killing yourself by now.
It's necessary.
What made you think of it?
It was a hunch.
My Dad had a couple of Dobermans.
Dogs.
They're pack animals.
The biggest, baddest dog gets to be the Alpha male, the leader.
Well, compared to the Vorcarion, you're neither the biggest nor the baddest.
Yeah, well, they don't know that.
Any sign of submission and you're lunch.
I showed no sign of submission.
You didn't have to. You're a female.
Sorry. I don't make the rules.
You certainly seem familiar with them.
(beeping)
Crais: Your personal encoding sequence is accepted.
Officer Aeryn Sun, Special Commando, Icarion Company, Pleisar Regiment.
currently absent without leave.
Crais is sending you love letters?
I suspected as much.
You have committed numerous acts of treason.
You cannot hope to avoid us forever.
You will be captured. You will face trial and punishment.
Your one hope of avoiding this fate is to accept my conditional amnesty.
Abandon the human criminal.
Return the Leviathan.
Surrender Ka D'Argo, Pa'u Zotoh Zhaan and Dominar Rygel Sixteen.
Comply and you will retire, honorably, with your commission fully restored.
You have my oath as a Peacekeeper.
Yeah, well, we know what that's worth.
Come on.
Let's light a fire under Furlow so we can ditch these dogs
before the flares go entirely.
Hey, you're not taking him seriously.
I always take him seriously.
Pilot, I've landed near the city.
I'll try to make contact again once I've found Crichton and Aeryn.
(sniffing loudly)
(sniffing continues)
That way.
Drop your weapon...
now.
Excellent advice. Do it!
(groaning)
I may have a buyer who's interested.
I'll let you know.
Turns out the plasma injectors are blown, too.
Your junkpile's going to need a lot more help than I thought.
But you can fix it, right?
You know, you'd really be better off just letting me take it for scrap.
No chance. This is the second time you've offered to buy it.
What's the deal?
Funny thing.
Some of the parts show signs of brell phase distortion.
Almost like it'd been close to a proto-wormhole.
Proto-wormhole?
What do you know about wormholes?
Just that they're theoretically possible but no one's ever actually found one.
Yeah, that's what I always thought.
Me, too, until I picked up bursts of unusual gravity waves
not long ago in the upper bonosphere.
Sure looked like a wormhole or at least the beginnings of one.
Well, if you're right then I really should get back up there
and get some more readings, right?
Of course.
For your research.
You know, a good-looking guy like you
shouldn't be getting around in a pile of old junk like that.
Just so happens I recently come by a secondhand Prowler
might interest you.
A Prowler?
Stay with the module.
Crichton: Bonehead.
(growling)
Bonehead.
Good. You didn't screw up.
Hand him over and head after the other two.
And leave him in your hands?
No. We shall interrogate him together.
He can lead us to the Hynerian and the Delvian.
Yes.
Who the hell do you think is in charge here?
I will kill you, Crichton!
(growling)
(groaning)
Crichton?
Your name's Crichton?
Yeah. Butch Crichton.
(growling)
Crichton: It doesn't matter what you do to a Luxan.
He won't talk.
Hmm?
Well, it won't hurt to try.
(laughing)
It won't hurt us to try.
Oh, his hide is thick.
Ah, but I'll bet these are sensitive.
Crichton: and I'll bet it's useless.
Rorf: Don't you want to find out where the other two fugitives are?
They probably aren't even on the planet.
Then we'll find out the orbital coordinates of their ship.
Tell us.
Where are they?
Stop!
You're making him bleed!
Your point being?
My point being, it's dangerous for a Luxan.
You see how dark the blood is?
You can't keep cutting him like that.
You have to stimulate the blood flow,
Increase it till the blood runs clear.
Or... what?
Or it turns toxic and he dies of blood shock.
Crais wants these prisoners alive.
The beacon didn't specify "alive."
(growling)
The one I saw did.
Who's calling the shots here, Pluto?
Why are you protecting him?!
Hmm?!
Perhaps the two of you are secret allies.
Hmm?
Rorg: Yes.
Perhaps the fugitives have offered you more than the bounty
to keep them safe from the hunters.
(growls)
You think I care about this piece of meat?
What I'm saying is, he is worthless to us dead,
and questioning him is a waste of time!
Then prove it.
Hmm?
Waste a little time.
You listen to me.
You listen to me, you tattooed freak.
(growls)
I don't care if you talk to me or not.
You can die right now or you can hold on as long as you can.
But either way unless you do what I tell you to do...
it's over.
You understand me?
Hmm?
Damn you anyway.
(Rorf and Rorg cackling)
He's passed out.
A waste of time.
Rorf: The blood is clear.
He's alive...
at least...
for now.
How much longer is this going to take?
Twice as blotching long as if you weren't here.
Why don't you go for a nice little walk outside?
Take in some of the sights.
What sights?
Well, if you go straight out that way
there's a truly outstanding expanse of sand.
Sand, eh?
Just as much as you could want.
There are plenty of things I want at the moment.
Sand isn't one of them.
What's he doing?
Recalibrating the retro-thrusters, probably.
No. He isn't.
He's trying to access the flight recorder.
Hey! Get the frell away from that!
Yoo-hoo!
(beeping)
Whoever he was, he's dead now.
You okay?
(gasps)
I can't see.
Ah, Rygel. I feel renewed.
Oh, Zhaan, are you fully clothed?
I'm not wearing a scrap.
I'm as nude as a newborn baby.
Then go away and don't insult my eyes with your naked, blue extremities.
Which ones in particular don't you like?
Show them to me.
No, thank you.
Aah! Help! Help!
A mad Delvian exhibitionist is-is forcing herself on me, visually!
(blows)
Oh, very funny.
Did you come here just to irritate me?
No. Actually, I was looking for D'Argo.
Well, you look down on the planet.
He went to retrieve Crichton and Aeryn.
By force if necessary.
Oh, I'll have to go and find him.
D'Argo can be very impetuous.
Quick to anger.
Yes, please go.
Pilot, prepare the shuttle for launch.
Why don't you just take it easy?
It's only temporary, probably.
Probably?
Sure.
Sixty percent chance of recovery.
Seventy. Eighty, even.
How soon?
Don't tell me, you're not a pleebig ocular physician.
(sniffing)
A new scent.
Yes.
Very subtle.
(growls)
Delvian.
We got a problem.
D'Argo came down here and the bloodhounds have him. Look...
"Look."
Right now, I don't look at all.
What are you talking about?
You can't see?
Don't worry. It's... it's only temporary, probably.
Sure. 60% chance of recovery.
70, 80, even.
Aeryn, how did this happen?
Another bounty hunter showed up.
Another one?
She, uh, caught a solar flare in the face as she was taking him out.
Don't help me, Crichton!
You can't look after yourself, not right now.
So stop acting like a bad-ass Peacekeeper.
Ex-Peacekeeper. Actually.
Crichton: I know.
Furlow!
We're going to need that module, soon!
(grunting)
(sniffing)
The scent... it's gone.
Oh, help me. This is hardly the time.
Rorg!
Rorg, let's go.
(whistling)
Huh, some days you get lucky.
D'Argo, wake up.
Damn.
You brought it. Good.
Now, I can start on your sensitive appendages.
Look, we don't have time for this!
This isn't supposed to be happening.
You're not even supposed to be down here.
Neither are you.
I just wanted to go home.
Well, no matter to the cost to the rest of us.
What? Oh, right. Remind me.
Who chopped off Pilot's arm so he could get a return ticket?
(grunts in anger)
Huh? No, it wasn't me.
I was too busy saving your ass.
Too busy keeping your deepest family secrets.
Shall I chronicle the rest of that relationship?
Relationship?
Oh, we have a relationship.
No wonder you want to kill me.
I once thought...
Thought what?
No, no, no, no.
Thank me tomorrow. I saved your ass today.
You tortured me.
I saved you!
You know what?
I have no idea what goes on in that tiny little brain of yours, D'Argo.
I have no idea why you do anything that you do.
Catch a clue, pal, cause I'm tired of sticking my hand out only to have you snap at it.
Every time I let down my guard, you disappoint me.
Sorry.
I'm only human.
You look so much like a Peacekeeper I often forget.
Is that it?
Or do you always have to be the Alpha male?
Alpha male?
Yeah, the big shot.
The one with the big britches, the leader.
You are so... childish.
You are selfish.
Can be. What about you? Selfish?
Sometimes.
I ever come after you with a weapon?
This isn't going to work, is it?
We're never going to be friends.
Friendship is a lot to ask.
Then how about respect?
We can be allies.
Warriors on Earth did this to show that they weren't holding weapons.
(beeps and clicks)
Hey, I feel for you. I really do.
Must be hard for someone as invulnerable as you
to have to rely on the kindness of strangers.
You really have no intention of fixing this module anytime soon have you, Furlow?
Well, I...
don't normally have quite so many bounty hunters getting in my way.
Look, I don't know what your game is,
but I think we might be able to make a deal.
Do tell.
You any good at cyber-manipulation?
I'll take Aeryn back to Moya in the Prowler.
Works for me. I'll meet you back at the ship.
This way.
(both yelling)
Move it!
Well, this is a good spot. We're totally pinned down.
Not if I can help it.
(growling)
Where's the Prowler?
Outside the city.
Aeryn's at a place called Furlow's.
It's across the square. Think you can make it there?
I will not abandon you in battle.
D'Argo, next time you pick a place to hide, pick one with a backdoor.
I did not pick this place to hide.
They're trying to outmaneuver us.
Give me your weapon. I'll cover you.
At least you can get out of here.
Crichton, you are my ally.
I will not abandon you.
Great.
So we can be buried together.
I'll deal with this.
Crichton! No!
Who the hell do you think you're shooting at?!
(laughing)
So you switched sides, have you Crichton?
Yeah, well, you know soldiers of fortune and all that always...
open to a higher bid.
Crichton's mate.
What the...
D'Argo!
Cover me.
(growls)
What the hell are you doing?
Shh. Watch.
I am Captain Bialar Crais.
The Peacekeeper Command Carrier assigned to recover the three escaped prisoners
has been called home on other business.
Therefore, the reward offer for the fugitives has been officially withdrawn.
No reward?
Then is there any point in continuing this?
Are you hungry?
Not that hungry.
Good.
They're all yours, Butch.
Come on.
How'd you do that?
Furlow did the reprogramming.
I came up with the idea.
Great idea.
Best I've had yet?
Yeah. Best idea yet.
D'Argo!
I got to get back to Furlow's before these flares are gone entirely.
No, John, they've stopped.
What?
You sure?
If they hadn't, I'd, uh... well, I...
I'd still be indisposed.
There'll be other stars with flare activity, John.
We'll find them.
So close.
Module's ready.
How's the vision?
Oh, it's blurry, but it's definitely better.
Listen, Aeryn...
Crais's offer of amnesty.
You're not seriously considering it, are you?
You don't think he'd keep his word, do you?
I believe he would restore my commission and give me honorable retirement.
But, what he means by honorable retirement
is a radiation-induced brain fever to bring on the living death.
Well, if you knew the offer was bogus, why did you even listen to it?
Because it was nice, just for a moment, to believe it was genuine.
That I could go back.
I better run a, um... preflight check.
No, no. Rest your eyes. I'll take care of this.
Actually...
Crichton, I, um...
I have a debt with Furlow that I can't honor.
So, I'd really appreciate it if you would settle the account.
Okay.
Furlow.
About the bill.
It's all there. Parts, labor, overtime, goggle rental.
Goggle rental?
Okay, I'll throw in the goggles.
You need any food cubes?
I beg your pardon?
I can't pay this.
Then we have a problem.
Unless, of course, there's, uh...
something else of value you have to offer...
and I don't mean your charming smile.
You know, the ability to create a stable wormhole,
travel through space and time would be...
incredibly...
Profitable.
Probably.
Deal.
I'll download you a copy of the data as soon as I get back aboard the ship.
Exclusive rights or there's no deal.
What?
No. No.
That-that data may be my only ticket home.
Well, of course, you're welcome to stay here and be part of an exciting experiment.
I can't stay here, Furlow. I got to keep moving.
There's probably half a dozen bounty hunters on the way here right now.
Well, then you really have a problem.
The data.
I can start from scratch.
Pleasure doing business with you.
Hey, Furlow?
Five years from now.
I'll be waiting for you at the end of that wormhole.
You remember now any time you need some repair work done
you know where to come.
You sure you don't want that thing detailed?