Original subtitles

HENDERSON: The most powerful weapon ever built.

Whoa, she is British.

YORK: Five years late and six times over budget.

They say, for what it cost,

every man, woman and child in Britain could have their own hospital.

Though I can foresee staffing problems.

What if it falls into the wrong hands?

We're not going to give it to the Americans, are we? No way.

This baby's so big, she'll stop all wars.

Even the people it's pointed at will feel protected by its aggression.

It's a win-win.

The skies are clear, our deadly cargo undetected for now.

But death stalks us, you can be sure of that.

She rises from the sea, her knife on her hip,

salty droplets glistening on her bronzed flesh,

wearing the tiniest of bikinis...

Chillax, Mr York. It's just a weapon big enough to extinguish a star.

It's not like we're carrying some kind of Doomsday machine.

(CHUCKLING)

(SIGHS HAPPILY)

Teal, contact the Gower and the Purley Way, please.

- Another course correction? Really? - Wow, whose big chair is that?

- That's yours. - Yeah.

Right.

Breaker, breaker 1-41-4 for a copy.

- This is Papa Bear. Come back. - Oh, for goodness sake.

It's an ancient communication system. It's good for convoys.

- Papa Bear, this is Sky Dancer. - Hey, how you doing?

This is Fruit Smoothie. That's a 10-2, Papa Bear.

We've all got handles. It's another word for names.

I'm a-hollering you 'cause we got a new course correction.

I am wiring it to your 20 now.

Commander... I mean, Papa Bear.

At the Academy, they said only make one correction a day.

Well, school's out, ladies, yeah? So put away your pencil cases.

When you change your course, an enemy can spot your engine flare.

Hey, relax, yeah? The old man knows what he's doing.

Not that I'm that old.

I'm very young, whilst being very wise and experienced.

- Jeffers, can you... - It's what he wants.

I'll tell you what, why don't both of you come over to my crib tonight

and I'll tell you some of the things they don't teach you at the Academy?

And I'll cook you my famous ribs.

- I don't eat meat. - That's cool.

It's just textured soy on a big plastic bone.

- Oh, sounds delicious. - You're on.

See you later.

(MUMBLING)

- What the hell? What's that, Vine? - Nothing.

- What have you got there? - Nothing.

Don't say "nothing" to me. I can see you're holding something.

- What are you holding behind your back? - Nothing!

Why are you lying to me? Let me see what you've got in your hand!

- It's a mouth player. - What?

A mouth player. Holds 15,000 tastes. It gets new ones wirelessly.

You got a new gadget before me? That's not in the rules, is it?

- No, don't! No, you'll break it. - Well, how does it work?

{(MUMBLING INCOMPREHENSIBLY)

From the main menu screen?

Ah. Combinations?

- Apple and banana. - Mmm.

Custard and olives.

- Don't do that. - Sorry, sorry. Sorry.

Cinnamon and...

cat wee.

I know. Cinnamon, huh?

Oh, you are both so dear to me,

like twin stars lighting the firmaments of my soul.

And yet so different, like chalk and yang.

Oh, Robot. Whichsoe'er of them shall I choose?

Both. You can have them...

Commander, I have finally perfected the banato.

Oh, well done, York.

Oh, another box set?

Yeah. Yeah, a new format. Better quality.

Data triangles, the old digi-cubes. Look so clunky now, don't they?

And I suppose it came with that?

Yeah, look at that. It's Robot.

(IMITATING BEEPING)

Beep.

"Two Princesses." An above-average episode.

Yeah. Yes, it is.

(CREATURE ROARING ON SCREEN)

Good commanders, aren't they, those girls?

- Roche and Gulati. - Yes, yes, yes. They show potential.

Hmm.

(STAMMERING) Have you ever...

- Have you ever... - I'm sorry,

I don't grasp the significance of your eyebrow waggling, Commander.

Have you ever done it with two women at once?

VINE: Commander, incoming attack.

HENDERSON: Oh, not tonight!

Five Scrane ships. They sure ain't coming over for coffee.

Don't add those things at the end, all right? It's very annoying.

Air screen.

The only way to fight Scrane is to get in close.

Get behind me. Do what I do.

But we should stay back and guard the gun.

They were very clear in training.

You got to forget what they taught you at the Academy, all right?

You know me, and I think you admire me. So what's it going to be?

Yes! Sandstrom, let's play.

They're not following us, by the way.

I told them with genial authority.

(SIGHS)

- Both of our ships, direct hits. - Damn it! Why didn't they listen to me?

Sandstrom, get us in close. I mean, white-van close.

No, no, Mr York. This one is mine.

Goodbye.

VINE: We have a Scrane, and it's badly wounded.

We don't have long to kill it before it dies.

You'd better put your face pipe in gear and tell me how you found us.

(SPEAKING ALIEN LANGUAGE)

"Self-love yourself, you self-loving self-lover."

That is rude.

(SPEAKING ALIEN LANGUAGE)

"Your mighty weapon shall be ours."

(SCRANE LAUGHING)

(LAUGHING)

This is just laughing.

- Damn it, it's taking a capsule! - Get it out!

Squeeze it! Squeeze the end! Squeeze the end!

- It's okay. It's just a mint. - Okay.

How did you find the convoy?

(MUMBLING) ...in... midst...

"Potatoes in the mist."

(SPEAKING ALIEN LANGUAGE)

Sorry, "Traitor in your midst."

It's dead.

And this is for Sky Dancer!

- And this is for Juicy Fruit! - Fruit Smoothie, wasn't it?

Yes, getting rather ahead of yourself there, aren't you?

I hear they're surprisingly considerate lovers.

We found this on the Scrane ship. Hard evidence.

A signal only an officer has clearance to transmit.

Ergo, the collaborator is in this room.

But no one here would let me down.

- Teal, I know you wouldn't. - No.

Mr Vine. Yeah? I know you wouldn't.

Jeffers!

- Jeffers. - Yes?

It'd just be easier if you confessed now.

- Well, it's not Jeffers. - No. It will be next time, though.

What about Silicon Sally here? We don't know what goes on in her head.

- I've seen her eat teaspoons. - Oh, that's where they all go.

It's not Sandstrom. She's loyal and brave.

ALL: (TEASING) Ooh!

All right, we know the bad guy is one of you lot.

(ALL ARGUING)

Wait a minute! You're an officer, it could be you.

- Why would I sabotage my own mission? - Well, there are motives.

Your career's plateaued, so frustration, bitterness...

- Rage, impotence... - JEFFERS: It's her.

- She's making us fight each other. - You are this close to a biffing.

All right, schtum!

Look, I mean, one of us, including me, although it's not me...

- ALL: Or me. - ...is the traitor, all right?

So we go one by one to the detective room,

because the software will always get his man.

- Or woman. - Or woman, yes.

- It's not me. - All right.

In the meantime, we're on 10% power and that makes us a sitting duck.

And I don't want to be a sitting duck. I want us waddling.

Yeah? I want us beating the geese to the bread.

That's the kind of duck I am.

Now, I know one of you wants to kill us all, but...

(SHUSHING)

Work for Team Duck, all right?

COMPUTER: Welcome. Please select preferred detective.

Oh, erm...

"Wheelchair... Gardeners..."

Ooh, ooh! Hard-Bitten Gumshoe, please.

(FILM NOIR MUSIC PLAYING)

AMERICAN DETECTIVE: I looked up. It was a girl.

She was tall, high-class,

a frightened look in her slate-grey eyes.

I got to the point.

“When'd you start working for the Scrane?" I said.

- I never have. - She replied.

Sorry, must we have the smoke? It's very off-putting.

And what have you deduced?

VICTORIAN DETECTIVE: It is elementary for me to deduce that

you are highly unlikely to be the criminal

Because you sense in me honesty?

No, because you're stupid.

- No. - Little more.

(VINE CHUCKLING)

Now what?

Single blade of grass on a summer afternoon.

Vine...

you stuck up for me back there.

It's all right.

That's why it's such a shame I have to do this.

You are so easy!

I knew it. I knew it. I saw it in your face.

- Oh, really? Did you? - Yeah.

What, this face? Or this one?

I hate you.

I select Tweedy Old Woman Detective.

Her spinsterly cunning should prove a worthy adversary.

- Bring it on. - OLD WOMAN: Hello, dear.

Why don't you have a lovely slice of shortbread?

And then let's talk about this frightful Scrane business.

(CHUCKLING) What, trying to disarm me

with your "sweet little old lady" routine, are you?

Well, it won't work, see, because... Ooh, angel cake!

- COMPUTER: Select detective. - Well, here's the thing.

I'm torn between Misogynist Cockney and Suave Belgian.

Could you do me a half-and-half, like a pizza?

Merging detectives.

BELGIAN DETECTIVE: Monsieur, when I apply order and method

to this mystery, it is clear that you should...

- COCKNEY DETECTIVE: Sing, you slag! - You ain't got nothing on me, mon brave.

(SPEAKING FRENCH)

BELGIAN DETECTIVE: Pull the other one.

(SNORTS)

I think it's Mr York. He's got a suspicious swagger.

Mr York is good.

Oh, Sandstrom, I know you have certain feelings for him.

I want him to hold me.

Aw, tender feelings.

Then hump me over the antimatter coils.

Right. But for the sake of the ship,

you really shouldn't let those gentle emotions...

Then spanking begins.

Oh, what's the point, you disgusting robo-tart?

Horn now.

(GROWLING)

No, not again! No!

- Horn now. - Please, no, not again!

Horn! Horn!

(CRASHING)

TEAL: Oh, stop it!

By my calculation, that puts us more or less back on schedule.

Brilliant. Ooh!

Why would anything on this ship need to be so high?

- This gantry has no railing, York. - No.

You go first.

I'll be right behind you.

It's you! You're the traitor!

Oh, Commander. Commander, Commander, Commander.

- Please, York. - Do you honestly think

after all these years that we've known each other

that I would lure you to the most secluded section of the ship,

with only one easily disabled security camera,

and throw you

all the way down there into the yo go sphere?

Hmm?

- Like this? - York, please. Please don't.

You're my best mate. Let me go. I need to do a wee.

Commander! Now think.

If I'd wanted to kill you, I wouldn't have caught you just there, would I?

- No. - Are you all right, Commander?

Are you sure? You look a little bit peaky.

I know the very thing. Its salady fruitiness will revive you.

Banato?

Anything except Gestapo Officer.

COMPUTER: I think you said Gestapo Officer.

GESTAPO OFFICER: talk, bitte schön.

I don't know anything about the Scrane! And I said, "Anything but Gestapo..."

Liar, liar, liar! Schweinhund!

Inside this envelope is the identity of the traitor.

It's quite exciting, isn't it, really?

All right. Come on, get back.

- "Error 65, culprit not found." - Good.

- Oh, good, so we're all innocent. - No.

This program is just a lie detector with a fancy interface.

All we know is the traitor thinks they're innocent.

Sorry, I don't...

It could be that the traitor is not aware he's a traitor.

The perfect liars are liars who do not know they lie.

So what would make them do it? Anyone, ideas?

Subliminal orders.

Sent through some sort of machine, perhaps.

Some device.

(MUMBLING) Roast lamb!

- Oi, how long have you had that? - Two weeks.

- Where'd you get it? - I won it in a competition.

- what was the competition about? - I can't remember!

So, how does the flavour code work, Vine?

Strawberry daiquiri means "Give your position to the enemy"?

Banoffee pie means "Sell your soul"?

You think it's me, don't you? Hey, Jeffers, tell them it's not me.

You're a bit of a loner, aren't you, Vine?

- You keep yourself to yourself. - Hang him high!

Hey, it's just a mouth player. Here, have a lick.

And turn into one of you? I don't think so.

Not to mention the hygiene implications.

You're a good mate, Dave, so I'm going to make this easy for you.

Mr York, shoot him.

- Ooh, really? - Gently.

Take him to the cube.

Vine? Hi, Vine.

COMPUTER: Look at the tortoise! He's very slow, but he's awfully wise.

Hello.

Yoo-hoo, it's Miss Teal

Just come to give you a bit of support

before your certain conviction and public drowning.

Okay, I'm slipping something under the door now, Vine.

You can do the jumbo crossword, but please leave the prize word search.

Okay?

And there's a sparkly pen, which you will not chew.

Yes, Robot, we have triumphed once again,

thanks to hope and courage,

which combine to form the still-stronger force

of ho rage.

Horage.

Commander, there's...

Commander?

It cannot be!

(GROANING) It be.

Ooh!

Oh, Jeffers! The Commander, he's the one!

Well, I know you like him, Teal, but you can't wait forever.

No! He is the one!

- Oh! - Oh!

Stand by.

This is Operative 12 sending convoy location.

Hail the Scrane.

Attention all crew. Prepare to be boarded.

Offer no resistance, or you will die.

Bow to the Scrane.

Commander, can we talk to you... No, no, no. It's me. It's Chloe.

Teal. Big Truck.

- Womanzilla. - Womanzilla.

- Yeah. - They're controlling me.

So hard to fight it.

- Please, kill me. - No, I don't want to.

Change the setting to kill.

If you've ever cared about me or this ship or planet Earth,

- you'll do it. - Okay.

Good girl.

But first of all, I have to know what I mean to you.

Er...

The biggest regret of my life

is that we will never have a family together.

- Really? - I love you, Chloe, so much.

(HENDERSON GROANS)

- Goodbye, Michael. - Goodbye.

No, hang on. You can't just go round saying nice things to girls

because you want them to kill you. You have to mean it.

Just take orders for once!

- No, I don't want to now. - You're so naughty.

- Shoot me, you cow. - I am not a cow. Can we just...

You...

How are you doing this? How are you controlling me?

Release!

Yes, Michael Henderson. Look upon the face of your master.

- Captain Helix! - Actually, no.

The acclaimed actor of stage and screen, Gareth Stanis?

No. My real name is Scrane Orovic.

You see, 30 years ago,

I learned of top-secret British plans for a super-weapon.

I knew we must have it.

So, in a series of painful operations, I transformed my handsome Scrane face

into the hideous human visage you now see.

I began a career as a human actor. Oh, the years of struggle.

A touring play about a middle-aged novelist,

my one-man Little Dorrit

- Oh, that's a very brave choice. - Well, thank you.

Until finally, I was allowed to create a special vehicle for my unique talents.

Captain Helix.

At this point, we chose an impressionable, unhappy human child

and used the program me to control his mind.

- All this to control me, all this time? - Yes.

And was Robot in on this?

Robot is just a prop made of light bulbs and dustbins.

He always felt so real to me.

My acting brought him to life.

(SCOFFS)

Since the age of 13, you have responded to my subliminal messages,

messages we update each time you buy a new box set.

Thus, he has actually paid for his own demise.

I made you join Space Force. I made you volunteer for this mission.

I made you give away your position.

And you would have let me board on the first attack

if you'd watched season three in the correct order.

Yes, it hurts, doesn't it? To know it's all your fault.

- You killed Sky Dancer and Froot Loops. - Oh, it's worse than that.

Air screen!

My minions are aligning the weapon at its first target,

a star I think you know well.

(ALL MURMURING)

They all look a bit the same to me, if I'm being honest with you.

- It's your sun, you div. - Is it? Oh, yes.

Soon it will be extinguished.

In hours, Britain will freeze and that gun will be unique, and mine.

Now, I want you to tell them to fire.

Never.

Horage.

Fire.

You've been a good slave, Henderson. Just one more task.

Kill your friends, then yourself.

I'm sorry.

Oh, you're trying to fight it, aren't you?

But you can't.

You must do what Captain Helix wants you to.

Yes, I must.

Oh, Commander, that was majestic. Oh, how did you do it?

Well, I just did what Captain Helix would want me to.

Not him, the one I grew up with. You know, I knew it was a lie,

but I just took that hunk of a lie and I made it the truth.

Commander, perhaps we'd better destroy the gun and save the world.

- Yes, yes, do that. - Saving.

Look, I know you're evil, but I just wanted you to know

that you were the nearest thing to a father I ever had.

Apart from Dad, of course.

You little bastard. You killed me.

Call yourself a fan?

- You were a great actor. - Was I?

I wasn't too hammy?

No, you were perfect.

- Do it for me, will you? - What?

Do the Captain one last time.

Hey, look. Hey, I've got this little guy.

(IMITATING BEEPING)

Robot,

I'm going on my final journey now,

a journey I must take alone.

Remember me to the Acolytes of Thraan.

Hey, hey. Sorry, but it's actually Thraal.

Do you know if they're going to do a fifth series?

Farewell, friend.

- Is that enough? - Yeah.

Good. You won't be needing this any more.

(VOICE ECHOING) Helix.

TEAL: Poor Commander.

We still feeling a bit down, are we?

- You could say that, yeah. - Mmm.

Well, what with you killing your childhood hero

and your whole life being a lie...

Still, may never happen.

Well, it has happened, but it's very unlikely to happen again,

so that's good.

I just... I don't know who I am any more, you know.

Thank you.

Maybe I need to find out.

I'm handing in my notice.

Commander, Betalusian genital-eaters of Zaizarzai

have attacked the British base on Waiwarwai.

- Let's go. Yeah? - YORK: Stop. I made it up.

(SCOFFING) Betalusian genital-eaters.

Why would you do that? I got the tingle.

To show you. To show you that this is your calling.

This is where you belong.

This is who you are.

Except the Space Marshal is certain to sack you, so it's all academic.

Banato?

- Henderson, come straight to Earth. - For my court-martial?

For the parade. You're a hero, man/

- Saving the world from that Scrane gun. - Hey, no, hang on, that was actually...

- A Scrane gun. - Scrane gun.

Those evil, evil Scrane, making such a horrific weapon.

Strike a pose.

Capture. There, there, that's the statue for the Mall

I've hired an open-top hover-bus through London.

Bring a Scrane corpse. we'll throw it to the crowd.

They can tear it apart. It's fun for the kids.

- And then dinner with the King. - The King?

Well, the list is quite tight for that one, actually.

This man has just saved planet Earth. Now, jolly well invite him, you beast!

This is going to your head, Henderson. I'm not sure if I like the new you.

Incredible. You really are amazing, aren't you?

I know, I know.

- Oh, congratulations! - Thank you very much.

God, I can't get over it.

Crew of the Camden Lock, we're heading home.

You're all heroes. I want everyone to take the afternoon off work.

(ALL CHEERING)

Hey, hey, hey. What...

Temperature falling, oxygen depleting.

Everyone except those that work in life support.

Heather? Pablo?

Guys?

Anyone?

Control room temperature will reach absolute zero in 48 seconds.

(SIGHS)