Original subtitles

JEFFERS: Oi, it's on again. It's on again!

(ALIEN CHATTER ON MONITOR)

ALIEN: ...British brutality.

(GROANING)

- HENDERSON: No... - Who's a naughty alien, then?

There's no place for this in the modern Space Force.

“I come in peace!/"

- Do we know what ship it is? - ALIEN: ...Camden Lock.

(GROANING)

This, two days before Shoe-Giving!

We haven't seen the best bit yet.

There is an art to a good beating.

Oh, no, no. Please, no.

- They got his good side. - YORK: Up you get, sir.

Sorry, they're quite new. Now, watch me.

Open hand, closed hand, stick, then punch.

You see? Carry on.

York!

Call the defendant to the Chamber of justice.

There's your Orb of Righteousness, okay?

Let me just adjust your Cummerbund of Reasoning.

- I don't like it. - It needs to be higher.

I look like an egg.

Oh. Commencing court record.

Mr York enters the room looking thoroughly guilty.

- Impartial, please, Teal. - Sorry, Commander.

It's in his eyes.

- I have readied the Bubble of Judgment. - Bubble on.

First Officer York, you face charges of violent conduct

and bringing Space Force into disrepute. How do you plead?

He was a violent insurgent.

- He was a contract cleaner. - And you believe that?

Well, to be honest, he never did the tops of my cupboards.

We'll go to Genderat where you'll make a full and public apology, Mr York.

- Shan't. - Eh?

- You can't make me. - I can't make you? Right.

Teal!

Thank you.

- Do you want me to... - No, no, I'll lean on you.

Thank you, love.

What's happened to you?

We used to look at commanders and first officers on other ships

and we used to say, "we'll never end up like that."

You know? You've got to make it work for them.

I protect you from a universe that wants you dead,

- and you wish me to apologise? - I am the commander and as such...

A newborn fawn in the forest could crush you

with its velvety forelimb, you man of margarine.

A ship must have one master, Mr York.

Yes, and what a pity this ship hasn't got one.

Fight! Fight! Fight!

Extraordinary scenes here.

Give me your badge 'cause you ain't Space Force no more.

Emotions play over Mr York's face.

We will go to Starbase 6 where we will deposit the civilian,

Eduardo York.

Chamber dismissed. And no shoe gift from me this year!

I don't care. I don't believe in Shoe-Giving Day.

(ALL GASPING)

What's happened to you? You've changed.

So, Commander, we don't have a first officer now.

I just wondered where you were going to look for another one.

Um, perhaps we should place an ad in Salute.

- Teal, I would like you... - Me? Really?

I never expected you to say me.

Right, drinks and nibbles in the First Officer's cabin tomorrow.

Just a celebrazione, and a chance to learn

some of the changes I'll be making.

This really is such a surprise, thank you.

Look at you all, you're all so very happy for me.

Why didn't you ask me?

Well, maybe because it would have gone something like this,

"Mr Jeffers, do you want to be my first officer?"

No way, there's loads more responsibility,

you hardly get paid any more and everyone hates you for it.

- Work bitch. - I ain't going to be your work bitch.

Exactly.

So why didn't you ask me?

- Right. Oh, Commander, hi. - Hi.

- Could you hold those for a minute? - A grenade?

And could you pretend to be a Mudgolan, please?

Yeah.

No, come on, do it properly with the noises and everything.

(SNARLING)

Oh, I can't... I...

See, I can't get the rifle up to shoot at the monster, and why?

Because these weapons are not designed for the ample-bosomed soldier. Hmm?

Yeah. That'll be changing, thank you.

Also, I've color-coded the grenades, okay?

You'll see a lavender stick and you'll think, "Righty-o, napalm."

Agent Orange is green.

- Why didn't you make it orange? - I don't know.

- If it ain't broke... - If it isn't.

- If it isn't broke, don't... - It isn't broken.

- If it isn't broken, don't... - Isn't broken...

You've managed to break the phrase, "If it ain't broke, don't fix it."

Oh, I'm sorry.

And that's been good for hundreds of years, you know.

I'm sorry, Commander.

(GROANING)

I'm sorry, too, it's just...

It's gonna be weird not having York around, you know.

- See the star over there? - Hmm.

York and I had our first mission on that star.

We lay trapped beneath a pile of dead ant people.

- We had to lick each other's wounds... - Oh?

...to stop them from getting infected.

Oh, you silly sod. I miss all that, you know.

Do you remember the star where we first met?

No.

Oil

Speed, 10 Vs. Range, 48 decamiles.

Vine, is that make-up?

Well, York wouldn't let me,

and he's out of the picture, so I thought, "Why not?"

- I told him it's for girls. - It's not.

It's Manscara, for men.

Stops the sun from getting in your eyes while you're playing sport.

When have you ever played sport?

You look like Gwendolyn Flames, the ship's tranny.

Teal, what would you do?

I would say, "Take that make-up off right now."

- Don't want to. - What?

- I don't want to. - Oh.

Right, okay then, Mr Vine.

You give me no option... but to change the rules to permit make-up.

But I'm not doing it with a smiling face.

I'm doing it with a look, look.

Good, all right.

Teal, hey, let's have a little chat about how that went.

(WHISTLES) Down.

- That was awful. - I know.

COMPUTER: Final approach to Starbase 6.

Just get us docked, all right? I'm gonna go to my cabin.

I've got some very important things I need to do.

Yeah, some episodes of Captain Helix haven't been watched for nearly a day.

- Quash it, yeah? Sharpish. - Right.

- So, well, the finger's coming out. - No, not the finger.

Don't make it wag. Too late, it's wagging.

(IMITATES MACHINE GUN)

Parting of the Ways, chapter nine.

But, Robot, if you stay here with the space orphans,

the dimensional continuum gateway will close

and we can never meet again.

(ROBOT SQUEAKING)

Farewell, friend.

(ROBOT SQUEAKS)

Oooh...

A single tear of oil.

(SIGHING)

Starbase 6, Starbase 6, this is Camden Lock.

Still no response.

Oh, I mean, normally, they're one of the politer starbases.

Maybe they sold it off and turned it into flats.

VOICE: We shall harvest your minds.

Oh, really, hello. You're not the normal chap, are you?

We have extracted the minds of all the beings on Starbase 6.

Bloody hell.

We are the Red Shiny Robots of Vortis. Your minds are ours.

Oh, my giddy aunt.

- I'll get Henderson. - I'll get York.

No, no, no. Wait. what are you doing? I have the bridge.

I'll show them what I can do, which is...

- Shoot them? Just a thought. - Shooting!

Shooting, jolly good idea. So, Sandstrom, swing us round.

- Is that what we do? - Swinging.

We will acquire all knowledge in the universe.

So, this flips. Open.

- And fire. - Fire.

- And fire. - And fire.

And fire, and fire... It's broken!

- PIN number! - PIN number.

0-0-0-0.

No, I changed it to something more memorable.

Oh, my God, my mind's a blank.

Oh! The Commander's birthday!

Okay, add on his average time in the shower... Oh, God.

(SIGHING)

- What did you fire? - Everything.

- What did you target? - Target?

(HUMMING)

(CHUCKLING)

Well done, Teal. Nice smooth docking. Not too bumpy.

- Um... - Huh?

Oh!

ALIEN: You are ours.

(GROANING)

COMPUTER: All operations inactive. Ship now under external control.

York, they're here. Let's crunch metal, big man.

Three minutes till boarding.

Hey, York. Red Shiny Robots. Let's roll, come on.

(SIGHING)

You still got the hump?

You cast me aside like a green potato.

- What could I do? - So be it.

I'll take my chances alone with the Robots. I need no one.

- Do me up. - Breathe in.

Mind the mole. Because of you, all shall perish.

Look, this is my pitying face.

Oh, belt up. Big tough York, super soldier.

You had a breakdown after the Nebula Wars.

Oh, didn't know I knew that, did you?

You went to group therapy, and they filmed it,

and I got a copy.

Sometimes the guys come over,

Jeffers brings the beer, Vine makes his famous guacamole,

we turn the lights off and snuggle in and watch you cry.

"Oh, dear! Oh! I'm Mr York, I killed alien children.

"Oh, I still hear their cries at night while I sleep."

Now I've gone a bit too far.

COMPUTER: Warning, big hooks gripping ship.

This is an official big hook warning.

Jeffers, I've let everyone down so I thought I'd do the decent thing.

- Get a bra that fits? - I going to take my own life.

Oh, good idea. I'll tell you what...

Oh, thank you.

- Just leave it where it falls. - Right.

I'm sorry, Commander.

I love you.

- What are you doing? - I was just trying to kill myself.

- We're all gonna die soon enough. - Right.

You screwed up, doesn't make you special.

- Thank you. - Thank you.

- Lots to do. - Lots to do, good, yes.

Make a list, don't kill self. Have a sleep.

COMPUTER: Thirty seconds till boarding.

- Warning, outer hull breach. - You ready? Yeah?

Take a breath, hold the line.

Right, 7:00, informal drinks and nibbles.

None of you RSVP'd, but I won't hold that against you.

We are not having informal drinks and nibbles now.

We must, because if we change our routine, that's letting them win.

Yeah, also not fighting them is another way of letting them win.

This cava won't keep.

ALIEN: Humans, surrender to the mind harvest.

They're really selling it, aren't they?

Right, I'm ready.

- It's better. - That's pretty good, actually.

Humans, open your doors.

Okay, come on. It's a tight spot, but I want you to dig deep,

because down here is a hero.

- The hero inside of us all. - What's he doing in there?

I call that hiding.

No. Look, we do not fight alone.

We fight alongside the British heroes of the past.

Sir Walter Raleigh, Winston Churchill, the great Ben Fogle and dog Inca.

So make them proud. Hey, make me proud, yeah?

Let's do this.

Fire!

Neutralize their weapons.

Surrender. You have no choice.

Oh, really. Sandstrom!

Fly.

(SANDSTROM SHOUTING)

- She's winning! - Yes, she is.

So long as they keep attacking her one at a time.

Some Shoe-Giving Eve this is turning out to be.

They're keeping the officers separate from the cadets.

We do have better minds.

I'm not being snobby, it's just the way it is.

Ooh, don't...

Force-field.

You will be held here and harvested by the data sphere

one by one.

Our knowledge grows every day.

We know the great works of 60,000 civilizations.

We know the genomes of five billion species.

You know nothing.

We know that in your next sentence you will compare us

to a waste receptacle from your home world.

How could you possibly know that, you overgrown dustbin!

- Oh, trippy. - We get it a lot.

Now, grab the hippy.

No. Hey, hey, hey. Whoa, whoa.

Put him in the harvester.

Have you ever been to a harvester before?

(GROANING)

(ECHOING) My mind!

They're taking my mind!

Memories going.

Forgetting things. Who are you?

Pi equals 3.1415926535. What color is this?

♪ I'm a little teapot ♪

Can't remember recipe for ice.

Keyboard shortcut for "select all".

One memory left.

Sending everyone a clip of Vine

taking a dump in the chalice of...

Hold on to that memory, Jeffers.

Oi, we are gonna talk later, all right?

Jeffers.

Jeffers?

Hey. Hey, Jeffers!

He's dead.

Jeffers, why?

Well, it was to expand their data sphere, you see... It was rhetorical, sorry.

Data.

Does not compute.

The missing human called York.

What, me? Human? Don't be absurd.

I'm a Red Shiny Robot of Vortis, just like you,

but in the form of a human.

All the better to infiltrate their human society.

We have heard of such Robots.

But they're supposed to look like sexy women.

Yes, and I was just about to put the finishing touches to my disguise.

Excuse me.

There.

Ooh, cheeky.

Sexiness confirmed.

(GIGGLES)

You don't think you're going a bit heavy?

I may as well use this up. It's guy-liner.

- It's for sport! - Yeah.

I've just worked it out.

I knew you would.

We're all going to die.

In here, human.

Yeah, yeah. Your mother was a lobster!

And your father

was also a lobster.

(YORK SCOFFS)

The prodigal ninja.

Jeffers?

Oh, Jeffers. He always thought I loathed him.

Now he'll never know it was really an incredibly strong dislike.

- All right? - Yeah.

I found a lever which will release the Camden Lock,

but it was geared to Robot strength.

Couldn't do it on my own.

Two people could have, though.

- Really? - Yes.

Well, I don't really want to do this, Mr York,

but the current situation leaves me with little choice.

(CLEARS THROAT)

I would like you to be my first officer once again.

Oh, would you?

Well, obviously I'm unwilling to comply,

but seeing as we're at war, I regretfully accept.

- Congratulations. - Well, this is just typical, isn't it?

Mother said Space Force was just a big boys' club

and there was a glass ceiling for girls, and she was right.

No, I tell you what. why don't you just take your willies out

and rub them up against each other's willies?

- Sorry, have I spoilt the lovely moment? - Teal, watch out!

Ooh. It was on the...

JEFFERS: You have to say, I really do look good dead.

Jeffers?

I mean, that is a T-shirt waiting to happen.

Imagine that on the chest of a 15-year-old girl.

- It is Jeffers. - Why aren't you in the data sphere?

I don't really get on with the other data. They say I'm a bad influence.

What about a dead me poster? You know, black and white,

a bit bleachy, with “Stop the War" underneath?

Did you just come back to admire your beautiful corpse?

Yeah! Oh, and that was it I had an idea how you could escape.

All you need to do... Oh, no, it's silly.

- Jeffers, come on. - They're a bit anal, these Robots.

All the data gets cross-referenced with the existing database

and verified as it goes in.

So if you think of untrue facts while it scans you in,

it might destabilize the core, or it might not, you know.

But it might. But probably not. But it might.

Okay, fine. Could you get back into your body?

Maybe. Why would I want to?

Check it out. Fractal!

Möbius strip. How many sides have I got? Two or one?

- You geek. - Hey, hey, hey.

Errant data.

The meat tremblers must not converse with data.

We shall commence a mass harvest

ALIENS: Harvest Harvest. Harvest.

Harvest. Harvest. Harvest.

Okay, Vine, Sandstrom, remember what Jeffers said, okay?

- York, you know what to do. - Commander.

- Teal, don't make a hash of this, okay? - Okay.

Good luck.

Commencing data extraction.

(GROANING)

Time was invented in Dublin in 1900 by Seamus o'clock.

I once spent an entire weekend socializing with close friends.

Gondoliers only come ashore to mate.

The Spanish have no word for tapas.

Think of... Ooh.

No, that's true. Um... That's true as well/

We need a really big lie.

Promoting Teal was the best thing I ever did!

- Oh, well, thank you very much! - I'm sorry. Sorry.

- Just go and pull your bloody lever. - Okay, let's go. Come on!

TEAL: I wanted to be first officer, it's just not fair.

what do you think...

Excuse me, do you want some, then? Do you want some of Miss Teal, do you?

Oh! Ooh!

Right, Jeffers, get back in your body.

I don't know. Isn't it better to die young and beautiful?

You know, Kurt Cobain, David Cameron...

- Hurry up! - All right, keep your pants on.

Resurrected.

And dead.

And resurrected.

And dead.

And resurrected.

Vine! Vine!

Come on, let's go. Come on.

Come on! Come on! Come through. Let's go! Let's go!

COMPUTER: All hooks clear. This is an all-clear for big hooks.

Sandstrom, power up the engines. Put the kettle on, please, someone.

Mine is a builder's camomile.

Where's Teal? Not yet, York.

Chloe!

Oh, look! You're being kicked with your own leg.

what a satisfying irony.

Kicked quite a lot.

Teal! The datasphere's reformed. We've got to go.

- Teal! - Oh, my God.

(TEAL WHIMPERING)

- Commander! Do something! - Come on!

ALL: Five, four, three, two, one...

Happy Shoe-Giving!

- Happy Shoe-Giving. - Oh, look at this.

For the big ape!

- I got you these. - Oh, Teal.

Platforms. They're wonderful. Thank you so much.

All right, I can't... Can't breathe.

Thank you.

Cost a month's pay, but it's worth every penny.

Everyone's face when they get their shoes.

- Lovely! I got you these. - Oh.

- The gold mule. - Happy Shoe-Giving.

Where's Sandstrom?

Sandstrom. Happy Shoe-Giving.

Shoe-Giving Day is not an authentic tradition.

It was invented by shoe manufacturers 50 years ago to promote sales.

- Hey. - Commander.

These are for you.

Happy Shoe-Giving, York.

Commander.

I got these for you.

(GASPS)

Captain Helix adventure boots. Beautiful.

Come on, then. Put them on. Come on, you shoe scrooge.

Huh?

They fit beautifully.

Thank you, York. Have a good Shoe Day.

(SIGHING)

- Happy Shoe-Giving, Jeffers. - Oh, thank you.

(BOTH EXCLAIMING)

Jeffers, have you had a shower since you were dead for a day?

- No. - Could you?

Yeah, sure.

Okay, guys, listen. Enjoy your shoes, yeah? Enjoy your day.

But tomorrow, back to work, all right?

Because the Robots will never stop.

Oh, I think we might be all right for a bit.

It's true. The Jeffers data stream has infected our neural networks.

Fix it before our behaviour is affected.

(GROANS)

- Why can't you do it? - Yeah, right.

I ain't gonna be your work bitch.