Original subtitles

Lana.

Lana.

Let me go ahead

and save you the trouble of shouting my name

- like a shrill five-year-old... - Shrill?

...and point out that I'm a little busy

- doing both our jobs. - Which I'd be helping you with

if I could find the goddamn cherries.

- What cherries? - The maraschino cherries, Lana. I...

We are entering the atmosphere of an uncharted planet

at a couple thousand miles per hour to check out a distress beacon,

and you're talking to me about cherries?

She said. Dryly.

Sorry. I didn't invent how to make a whiskey sour, Lana.

Here's an idea. Maybe try inventing not doing that right now.

God, lighten up. It's a road trip.

Who goes on a road trip without a few cocktails?

- Look... - Trick question, Lana.

- No one does. - This isn't...

The time to try new things. Exactly.

Especially when we're going a thousand miles per...

Goddamn it!

System failure. System failure.

- Autopilot is out! - I got it.

- What is happening? - What are they doing?!

Goddamn it!

- The hell's going on up there? - Don't look at me!

Talk to Captain Road Trip over here!

What? Oh, how is this suddenly my fault?

We're coming in hot! Everyone, hang on!

Hey, if you happen to see any cherries back there...

- Oh, God, give it a rest! - You give it a rest!

- Ow! - Holy shitsnacks!

Never mind. Found the cherries.

10x06 - Road Trip

sync & correction by f1nc0 ~ Addic7ed.com ~

So, got some good news and some bad news.

Any chance you're gonna tell us what it is?

Oh. Right. The bad news is,

comms are dead and the fuel cell's ruptured,

so we're not going anywhere anytime soon.

Hang on. You mean we're frickin' stranded?

Not stranded, dummy. He said "soon."

- Though I technically meant "ever." - Then what's the good news?

Hmm. Guess it was mostly just bad news.

- Damn it, Krieger! - God, relax. He said "mostly."

So... completely inoperable.

Um, what are you doing?

Oh. Uh, since our insurance claims keep getting denied,

Ms. Archer has put me in charge of the paperwork.

Cause of accident: barely functional alcoholism.

- Hey! - All right, listen up.

Let's salvage what we can from the shuttle

and find the distress beacon.

It's probably a downed ship, so maybe there's a fuel cell we can use.

Way ahead of you.

On the "salvage what you can" part.

- Unbelievable. - Right?

What are the chances lemons would survive the...

Can you please focus?!

Why? Mother's probably putting together

a rescue plan as we speak.

Mm. Should probably check on why their comms are down.

Meh. Feels like it can wait.

Everything can wait.

Speaking of, anybody want in on this?

I'm about to make another batch.

- Seriously? - Road trip.

Which we may be on forever if we're stranded here.

Oh, take it easy, Lana. It'll be fine.

And this blithe optimism is based on what, exactly?

Because this is me we're talking about.

- Wildly reassuring. - Trust me on this.

I have mastered the art of blind luck.

No offense to your blind luck,

but it might be nice to have a plan B.

Why? Seriously, do you have any idea

how many times I should have literally died in the last year?

- Wow me. - Krieger, tell her.

Including that thing last week?

Hey! This is totally safe, right?

- Technically? - As in "actually," Krieger!

Kind of feels like probably. To both of those.

Whoa, whoa, wait! What?!

- Then nine. - Boosh.

- Please tell me there's a point. - Point is, if you hit pause

on your whole angry negativity thing...

- Angry what? - ...for, like, one second,

you'd notice we always end up fine.

Though we may be pushing our luck at this point.

Christ on a cracker.

- Is this whole frickin' planet uphill? - Jesus, is that a thing?

At least it means we're not totally lost going in circles.

Though not feeling entirely un-lost.

We're not lost, idiots.

I know how to work the whatchamahickey.

Really? Because "whatchamahickey" doesn't inspire tons of confidence.

- It's technically a whatchamacallit. - Or am I being too negative?

- When are you not? - All the time, jackass!

- Oh, and there's the angry part. - Look...

Face it, Lana. Angry's basically your default setting.

- Says who? - Besides everybody?

- Well, not everybody. - Thank you!

Just the people who've actually met you.

Yeah. Possibly a few others.

Hey, assholes. I'm not, like, perpetually angry.

Really?

- Yes, really. - Scale of one to ten, Lana,

how happy would you say you are, in general?

- Oh, easily a six. - A six? Then what's a seven,

- "Yay, I've got tons of cancer"? - Like you're any better.

Seriously? I'm always a total nine.

- Please. - I'm buoyant, Lana,

bordering on bubbly. Listen to how I talk.

- There's a tone. - A tone?

Yes, Lana, a tone. Notice how my sentences go up at the end?

Oh, yeah. You mean like, "Shut the hell up"?

Exac... Damn it.

- Ow! - Ha. Now I'm a seven, by the way.

And now I'm a two.

So which part of the blind luck plan is this?

Um, I think this is the part where you sh...

- ...it! - Finally!

Some frickin' downhill.

Blind luck, you are my spirit animal.

Holy spacesnacks. What the hell happened?

Hopefully nothing a fuel cell couldn't survive.

Yeah, otherwise, we're pretty much screwed.

Easy, Debbie Downer.

No one wants to go to your dark place right now.

- You know... - Yeah, but she's right.

We only have enough food for a few days.

Then what? We sit around and starve?

Please, whoever survives the culling

- will have plenty of food. - The what?

Uh, the culling? You know, where people suffocate in their sleep

with gross, sweaty socks stuffed in their mouths or get

accidentally stabbed in the neck while they pee or whatever?

- What? - The details make it weird.

Just the details?

Section seven, possible post-accident injuries.

- Uh, that's "culling" with a "C," right? - Look, idiots,

there's got to be a fuel cell around here somewhere.

They're basically impossible to destroy.

Unless the pilot spills a cocktail

- all over the flight controls. - Yeah.

But what are the odds their pilot was that kick-ass?

Perhaps better than you think.

- Holy... - Shitsnacks.

- Ooh. Fascinating. - Now I'm an eight.

- How is this possible? - It-it isn't.

- This is insane. - Obviously.

I mean, who shaves off hair like this?

Idiot.

Okay, there's got to be a logical explanation.

Lana, there's nothing logical about shaving...

- Not talking about your hair, dumbass. - None of this makes any sense.

Uh, ever consider the fact we're obviously ghosts

looking at our own stupid dead bodies?

We're not ghosts, dick nuts.

How do you... Ow!

Buy a girl a drink first. Jesus.

Is anyone here familiar with multiverse theory?

How 'bout pretend we're not?

Long story short, this may be a parallel universe,

- making these our doppelgangers. - Doppel-what?

- Sort of like everyone's alter egos. - Not everyone's.

Yeah. Where's yours, Krieger?

Huh. Maybe doppel-Krieger survived.

Yeah. And maybe he killed everybody.

Please, why would I ever finally do that?

What the hell?

Mayday, mayday.

This is Sterling Archer of the MV Seamus,

and we are going down. Repeat, we are going down.

Transmitting our location now.

And, on a personal note, whoever gets this,

please know my only regret is...

The hair, obviously.

- Shut up. - Oh, come on. - Shut up, man.

...I wasn't able to save my valiant crew.

My dear friends, Cyril,

Pam, Krieger, Ray, Crystal...

Oh, my God! Totally forgot about the Crystal thing.

...I love you all dearly.

Truly the best friends a guy could have.

- Aw. - Oh, my God, give me...

Shut up!

But, most of all, I'll miss my wife, Lana.

You're the greatest thing that ever happened to me.

I wrote you this poem I want to read.

It's called "I'll Never Stop..."

"Totally Embarrassing Yourself"?

- Come on! - Oh, God!

You realize, theoretically, that was you, right?

How? He's nothing like me.

Got a point. He did seem entirely non-self-absorbed.

- Exactly... Wait, what? - And weirdly not a dick.

You're weirdly not a dick.

- Makes no sense. - Yeah.

That other Archer was refreshingly friendly.

- Yeah, like what you think matters, Cyril. - And we're back.

And is it just me, or was that shaved head thing

- super working? - Totally.

- Ka-sploosh! - I was into it.

Just sit there and be into the non-hair-having,

clearly castrated version of me

while I go find a fuel cell to get us all out of here, which,

P.S., is pretty much the opposite of self-absorbed!

So, how's the bubbly thing going?

- Still sporting that nine? - No.

"Are you making any of the following claims for emotional distress?"

Yes, yes, yes. Well, these are all yes.

Shit, I'm heavy.

Incoming!

So, I officially quit.

And speaking of good news,

I assume finding this crammed up my ass qualified?

Is that a fuel cell? Oh, thank God.

Shut up, Cyril. You still don't matter.

It's funny 'cause it's true.

Okay, got some good news and bad news.

Bad news is, that thing's not going anywhere.

And the good news?

Mm. I swear I had something for this.

- Krieger! - Great.

Making us pretty much screwed.

- Easily a six. - Shut it.

- And let the culling begin! - Okay.

Maybe instead of culling each other,

we should come up with an actual plan.

Like, obviously, someone needs to go out there

and distract that thing while everyone else gets away.

- And I vote Pam. - What? Screw you, dick nuts.

- What? - Why me?

Because look at you, Pam.

That thing's not gonna want to eat... that.

Well, you either! 'Cause who'd want to eat a complete dick?

- Just gonna softball it in like that? - Sorry I didn't invent appetizing, Pam.

Yeah, well, I'm sorry we ended up

with the complete asshole version of you.

Oh, what? You'd rather have touchy-feely bald guy?

- Yep, yep, yep. - 100%.

- No contest. - Fine. Know what?

You want him?

Then come and get him!

Boom! Wordplay!

Now run, idiots!

- So, was it weird? - Probably.

Wait, what are we talking about?

You know, watching your alter ego get eaten by a giant lizard.

Please, if that guy was really my alter ego, Lana,

he would have been something really cool,

like a secret agent or a private detective or a...

Oh, my God! You guys are alive!

- Archer! - Oh, God. Get it off.

And your hair!

- Right? - It's glorious!

Aw. Wait a minute. Doppelganger multiverse theory?

- Exactly. - And the rest of my crew's... dead?

- Exactly. - Oh, like you didn't kill them.

What?

Why would I ever do that, finally?

- Right? - Besides...

You know what? What do you say we take this half-assed reunionon

the road before that tyrannosaurus whatever shows up for seconds?

- Fascinating. - What?

Our Lana had a lot of angry energy, too.

- Ha! Hilarious. - Oh, is it?

And that was no Tyrannosaurus rex you saw.

I mean, unless a T. rexis capable of camouflaging itself

perfectly in any surroundings with chameleon-like...

Oh, shit. It's right behind me, isn't it?

So, how's that whole blind luck thing working out?

No! Me!

You tell me.

Uh, I mean, seriously, Lana,

at some point, you really got to ask yourself...

- It's not the time. - ...if maybe the luckiest spot

in the galaxy is standing right next to me.

Got a whole bunch of wedding photos that say otherwise.

Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait.

We have wedding photos?

Oh, yeah. Big box of 'em labeled "Cautionary Tale,"

which is what this whole thing's gonna turn into

if we can't find our way back to the ship.

- How the hell? - I've learned not to ask.

Now, let's get the hell out of here.

Wait, what are you talking about? We can't just fly off.

What? Then why have I been

lugging this thing around all this time?

No. I mean we can't just leave everyone.

Of course we're not, Lana.

Assuming they get here on time.

- Wow. Such an asshole. - What?

Could you try not being completely consumed with yourself

- for once in your life? - Why?

Wait, I don't want to go wandering around

a man-eating jungle and suddenly I'm the asshole?

How does that even work?

Oh, I know.

Maybe I should shave my head and take up poetry

and see how many things I can rhyme with "soul-sucking" and...

Lana!

Psst! Lana!

What are you guys doing?

Well,we were hiding from that stupid, giant lizard thingy.

But now, thanks to your loud-as-shit ass...

Not so much.

- Holy... - Shit. Oh, wait.

Ow! What are you doing, woman?!

Besides pissing it off even more! And totally killing our earballs!

- What? - See?!

Goddamn it!

Good God. What the hell's it doing now?

I don't know, moving on to plan B?

Yeah, "B," as in "burying us alive!"

Okay. Who brought the dog?

Damn it!

No!

Well, look who decided not to be a total dick.

Just couldn't leave my buddy Cyril behind.

- Wait, really? - Of course not, idiot.

And yet you had the time to stop and make a cocktail.

God, you are just so glass half-empty.

Ooh, actually, me, too. So just gonna freshen this up.

Item one.

- Item what? - Yeah, what are we even doing?

It's called an agenda.

- For what? - So confused right now.

I swear, you people! Item one.

The insurance company has officially deemed

the Seamus II a total loss,

so this little enterprise may actually turn a profit this year.

What are you talking about?

- The other crew. - Hang on. I thought those were

our parallel universe doppel-bangers.

Oh, for the love of... Those were clones, you idiots.

I had you people cloned in your sleep.

- Why? - To double productivity, dear.

- It was Krieger's idea. - Oh, did I obviously forget

- to mention that? - Yep.

So wait till you see what we do to you in your sleep.

Now I'm a nine.

sync & correction by f1nc0 ~ Addic7ed.com ~