All language subtitles for Andromeda.S01E17.Fear.and.Loathing.in.the.Milky.Way.720p.AMZN.WEB-DL.DDP2.0.H.264-ETHiCS

Trance, I'm telling you.
That waitress really dug me.

We shared this thing,
this, uh, pure, special,
cosmic connection.

Wasn't that what you said
about that stripper you met
on Mendocino Drift?

The one who had
the elbow spikes and
threatened to perforate you,

stick a light in your ribcage,
and turn you into a planetarium?

She was not a stripper.

Her name was Dusky,
and she was
a professional dancer.

Besides, Dusky was
just an appetizer.

Hello, my name is Kathleen
is an all-you-can-eat buffet.

Harper, you're supposed to
be using Tundra Flowers

to spread goodwill
for the Commonwealth,
not meet pretty girls.

Hey! I'm all for
spreading goodwill.

And if I'm very lucky,
the good will commence
any minute now.

You've invited her on board?
No.

I chased her away with
my gauss gun to avoid
violating professional ethics.

That would be Kathleen.

You ready to see some stars?

Why, thank you, Mr. Harper,
for such a kind offer.

Gerentex.

Now why do I get
the feeling that you were
expecting someone else?

The long night
has come.

The Systems Commonwealth,
the greatest civilization
in history, has fallen.

But now, one ship,
one crew, have vowed
to drive back the night,

and rekindle the light
of civilization.

On the starship, Andromeda,
hope lives again.

Hey, you rat-face,
you owe me 84,000 thrones.

And sorry, but we're
all full of failed, evil
masterminds right now,

and you're full of
something else,
so try back tomorrow.

Don't push me, human.

I can't say
that I'd mind

indulging in a little
senseless violence
right about now.

Funny. I was thinkin'
the same thing.

Harper, be careful.
He has two loaded guns.
You only have a bad temper.

Aren't you dead?

I got better.

Hmm. Lucky you.

Now, as much as
I'm enjoying
all this posturing,

I have an appointment
with a lovely lady

who demands
my punctual arrival.

And you are going to
take me to her.

What? We're not
taking you anywhere!

Let me put it this way,
monkey-brain.

Either you take me
where I want to go,

or I'll send you back
to Captain Valentine
in a box.

Do you practice those lines
in a mirror? Because they
really need work.

No. He's here.

Who?

I'm looking for a Nightsider.

Well, we have one right here.

Don't stand there
staring like he's
the Vedran Empress!

Get us out of here!
He'll kill us all!

Give it up, Gerentex,
you're coming with me.

Dead, alive, or otherwise.

What part of
"Get us out of here"
did you not understand?

Okay, okay.

Move!

Uh, please
secure any loose articles,

and keep your hands
and feet inside the vehicle
at all times.

Oh, shut up.

Hey, Rommie.
I was wondering
if you

Ooh, yuck.

Harper.

The amount of garbage
he creates and consumes
boggles the mind.

Take this
disgusting substance,
for example.

Sparky Cola.

It has no nutritional value,
rots the teeth,

and slowly dissolves
the digestive tract.

And yet he imbibes
at least 3,000 milliliters
of it every single day.

Yeah. Harper's twin muses.
"Chaos and caffeine."

Somehow, I don't think
you came here to
discuss Harper's hygiene.

No. Actually, it's Dylan.

He's been walking around
brooding for the last week.

To be honest, it's a little,
uh, disturbing.

I was hoping
you'd know what's
bothering him.

It's personal.

Rommie, as long as
I'm acting as
Dylan's First Officer,

it's my job to
look out for him.

I need to know
what's going on.

Back in the days
of the Commonwealth,

High Guard captains
were typically assigned
four-year tours of duty.

In a few days time,

Dylan will have been
aboard this ship
for four years.

His final act as captain
would have been to
inspect the Andromeda

and turn command over
to his executive officer,
Gaheris Rhade.

His best friend.
The guy who
tried to kill him.

I guess now would be
a bad time to give him
some bad news.

Bad news?

See for yourself.

That is bad.

So, are you gonna tell us
the name of your
girlfriend back there?

If you must know,
he goes by the name
of "Reaper."

Bounty hunters,
so unimaginative.

So there's a price
on your head.

Oh, good.
Maybe I'll get my money
back after all.

If I were you,
I'd spend less time
trying to plot my downfall

and more time trying to
guess what I'm going to do
with the two of you.

Oh, I love playing
guessing games!

Call me a traditionalist,

but when I kill someone,
I really do prefer it
when they stay dead.

Now, be quiet,
the two of you.

I'm trying to think.

Don't strain yourself.

Fine.

If you don't want me to
come up with a way

to integrate you
into my brilliant plans,

and use you
to my advantage,

then I'll just kill you now
and be done with it!

No. No! We want you to think.
We encourage you to think.

Hell, yeah!
We'll even help you.

Why don't you tell us
what you're up to,

and we'll see if we can
make ourselves useful.

Oh, you'd like that,
wouldn't you?

Let's have old Gerentex
take us into his confidence,

and reveal his latest scheme
for wealth and success,

and then we'll betray him
and keep it all for ourselves!

We would never do that.
I would.

True.

Why do I bother?

Ah-ah.
Not so fast, rat-face.

If you shoot me,
it's Dosva-Bye-Bye for you.

Well, I'm sure you've
got some explanation

to back up your
pathetic little threats.

How's this for
a little known, yet
highly entertaining fact?

Whenever the teacher lets us
take the Maru out on
these little class field trips,

I key the power generators
to my life signs.

You do?

See? Little known.

The point is,
if my life signs should
suddenly, I don't know,

expire, the generators
overload and explode like that.

In a heartbeat, uh,
in my heartbeat.

You'd blow up this whole ship
with your little
purple friend on board?

Trance has come back
from the dead before.

She's tricky that way.

What makes you think
she can't do it again?

Well, let's find out, shall we?

No!

Yeah. What he said. No.

You hurt her,
and I will kill you myself.

You and which
Vedran cavalry, my boy?

You don't get it,
do you?

You harm one hair
on her head, and
I will come after you.

And then you'll
have to kill me,

because I absolutely will
not stop until one of us
is Magog food.

You're bluffing.
Try me.

See if you can wrap
your little rat brain
around this.

You kill her,
I kill you. You lose.

You kill her
and you kill me,
the ship blows up.

You still lose.

Either way, you lose.

Um, excuse me.
Can we please discuss
the "killing her" part?

Fine.

I was hoping to
save this for a more
dire emergency,

but I can see you two
leave me no choice.

I'll have to resort
to Plan B.

Plan B?

Yes. Plan B.

Son of a...

I've just injected you with
a microscopic generator

which produces quite
a nasty little shock.

All with the press
of a button.

This button.

But why take my word for it?

I believe the expression
is "Show. Don't tell".

Brilliant.

Now, who's next?

Ow!
So, as I was saying,

the Androme debacle
put me into some serious debt

to some rather
unsavory characters.

Tell me, do you
have any idea

of what the monthly interest
on 11 million thrones might be?

I know what it is
on the 84 grand
you still owe me.

I didn't even
say anything!

Oh, I am sorry, my dear,

but I'm afraid I only
have one button,
and two hostages.

Where was I?

Oh, yes.
My most brilliant plan ever.

Retrieve the Andromeda,
deliver her to the buyer,

auction off her Nova bombs,
one by one,
to the highest bidder.

Beautiful.

I should've been
swimming in luxury
by now.

Instead, I'm
drowning in debt.

How tragic.

Oh, dear, my finger
must have slipped.

Well, you know,
in this business,

you're only as good
as your latest scam.

My strip-mining venture
on Infinity Atoll,

my RobotoCourtesan
manufacturing plant,
the religion I founded.

All gone. Forgotten.

This is the part where
you're supposed to say
"Oh, Gerentex, that's so sad."

Oh, that's so sad!
You're breaking
my freakin' heart!

So, I find myself
on that rust-bucket drift
with no way off.

And to make matters worse,
I was on the verge
of the big score, Harper.

Something even bigger than
the Androme deal.

A bonanza of
unparalleled plenitude.

Plenitude? As in cash?

Of course cash, idiot.

And then,
who should I see
but the two of you,

handing out flowers and
getting the brush-off from
that snaggletooth waitress.

Hey! Kathleen
was not snaggletooth.

You should talk, smiley.

And is that where
you came up with
the evil plan?

My dear, those are
the best kind.

So the Perseids on Sintii Four
think humans will screw up
the new Commonwealth

just like we did the old one.

Not all of them.
Just a faction on
their High Council.

Hohne and your other
supporters have the motion
locked up in committee,

but it might not stay there.

I've spent almost an entire year
trying to get worlds to sign up
for the new Commonwealth.

I've managed to get three,
and now one of them is
threatening to back out.

That pretty much
sums it up. Yeah.

And now I'm supposed to
convince them to stay?

Who am I kidding?
I'm a soldier,
not a statesman.

Oh, don't be so hard
on yourself.

You're at least as good
a politician as I am
a first officer.

Yeah.

That is a compliment, right?

That's right. Yeah.

Good.

I don't recall giving you
permission to stop.
We are on a tight schedule.

Look, I'm tired, okay?

My butt's asleep and
I got a mother of a caffeine
withdrawal headache.

Could you at least
grab me a Sparky?

Oh, you want a Sparky?

Here.

Okay, listen to me,
and listen very carefully.

Every time you
press that button,
it hurts a little less.

Keep it up,
pretty soon it's not
gonna hurt at all.

Then I'm gonna break free,
crack your skull open,

and drink a beer over
your fuzzy corpse.

Harper, don't say that.

What? You want me
to be nice to him?

You're supposed to
be the good guy.
Correction.

Standing next to you,
Beka, Rev, Rommie,
Dylan, or, uh,

well, anyway, then I'm
one of the good guys.

But I didn't survive
20 years on that hellhole
we lovingly call Earth

by being Santa's
little helper.

I survived by being
the nastiest piece of work

that ever clubbed someone
over the head in a back alley
over a hunk of cheese.

So, please, keep pressing
that little button.
Get your money's worth.

'Cause then it's gonna
be the worst day
of the end of your life.

You know,
I've always wanted to see
a human glow in the dark.

It must be hard
being a Nightsider.

Excuse me?

Well, once the Commonwealth
evacuated Krrendar,

the Nightsiders had
no planet to call home.

Did you know that
there are worlds where they
shoot Nightsiders on sight?

And they call us a threat
to aquatic ecosystems.

Don't they realize that
our children have to eat?

It's not your fault
that Nightsiders have
hundreds of babies

that eat everything
until they reach dry land
and become sentient.

It's just the way you evolved.

Well, try telling that
to a village full of
Arswan fishmongers

as they try to run you down
and impale you
on their boathooks.

It must be awful.

Oh, my dear,
you don't know
the half of it.

Do you know, the only way
a Nightsider can survive
these days

is to be so filthy rich,

so mind-bendingly wealthy
that people can't help
but accept you.

I'd accept you
loosening these ropes.

Why don't I
just tighten them

until your limbs pop
like a Than grub under
a magnifying glass?

What's the matter, Gerentex?
Artificial gravity misbehaving?

Sorry, I'd love to help you,
but I'm a little tied up
right now.

Hey! Why didn't you
do that before?

Well, he was talking
and I didn't want
to interrupt him.

And he had
that buzzer thing.

Well, it's broken now,
so untie me.

I gotta go see a Nightsider
about an obscenely large
pile of money.

You have to promise
not to kill him.

What?

All right. I promise.

Harper, you promised!

I promised not to kill him.

You think this
frightens me?

I've been tortured
by Nietzscheans.

Ah, what a coincidence.
So was I.

You wanna see
some highlights?
Hey!

If this is that
"good cop, bad cop" game
you were telling me about,

isn't this the point
where I'm supposed
to play "good cop"?

Sorry, mon cheri.
Welcome to, uh,
a new game.

Bad Cop, worse Cop.

And guess which one I am.

Gerentex, why don't you
just tell us what
we want to know?

What do we want to know?
Oh, the usual.

What's the scam,
how do I get in on it,
what's it worth,

and where do I get
my 84,000 thrones!

I'm not telling you anything.

Gerentex, this is my nanowelder.

It can cut through
a starship like a Magog
at a puppy farm.

Maybe it can
jog your memory, huh?

Hasturi's diary.

You're full of it.
No, no, no, no, no.

I hired one of
my more reliable
acquisition specialists

to contact certain parties.

They know where it is.

The original? The real one,
not some bogus cack.

Okay, what is
Hasturi's diary, please?

The journal of Hasturi,
the mad Perseid?

About 100 years ago,
he wandered the galaxy

claiming he found a way
through slipstream
back to Tarn-Vedra.

The diary is
the documentation
of his journey

to the long-lost capital of
the Systems Commonwealth

and all its wealth
and splendor.

Whoever finds the diary
and retraces his path
to Tarn-Vedra

could command the galaxy.

Or get a Nightsider
out of debt.

Huh?

Oh, exactly.

And it's all...
Ours.

You're gonna show us
how to find that diary,

and we're taking it.

So what do we offer
the Perseids this time?

Protection. Peace of mind.
Mints on their pillows?

Just don't let them
dissect me.

Relax. I'm not going to offer
the Perseids anything.

If I did, I'd be making
the opposition's case for them.

They say that we're no better
than the Nietzscheans,
and they'd be right.

We have to make
the Perseids see

that not all humans are
consumed by greed for
money, power, and control.

And how do we do that?

Give them clean towels?

Okay, we use Gerentex's money
to buy the diary's location.

Then we go back
to the Andromeda,
we tell Dylan.

Or maybe we don't
have to tell Dylan.

Either way, we are
going to Tarn-Vedra,

where the livin' is easy and
the women have four legs!

Aren't you
forgetting something?

Uh, well, let me see.

We get fame and fortune.
Gerentex gets nothing.

We make the biggest
discovery in the history
of the known worlds.

Gerentex gets nothing.
What am I forgetting?
Nothing!

- Hostile weapons fire.
- PDLs activated.

Reaper!
Except him.

Harper! Slipstream!

I'm working on it!

But every time
we're almost out of
the star's gravity well,

Chuckles out there cuts us off
and starts shooting again.

May I make a suggestion?

Uh, let me think.

No!

Oh, you're right!
Your plan is
working so well,

you certainly
don't need my help!

Make it quick.

I'll put this in a way
your tiny mind can grasp.

Our pursuer wants
to kill me, but he won't
risk his life for it.

That's his weakness.

So if this is a problem
in terms of psychology
and mathematics

our ship has 50 times
the mass of his little fighter.

Fat lot of good it does us.

His ship is faster,
better armed, and
more maneuverable.

We can't out-shoot
or out-flank him.

So don't. Turn this whale
around and aim straight at him.

If he gets out of our way,
we escape. If he doesn't,
we run him down.

What? At that velocity,
it would vaporize both of us.

Yes, yes, yes.
But he's a bounty hunter,
not a physicist.

Any, uh, thoughts,
your purpleness?

Signs are hazy,
ask again later.

But we're leaking pions and
AG fields are barely holding.

Fine.

A game of chicken.

Let's bring it.

Entering slipstream.

Woo hoo! Damn, I'm God.

Hello!

Does anyone remember
whose idea it was?

Shut up, rat.
Just tell me where to go.

I have several suggestions.

Tell me we're nearing
an end to this tedium.

Dylan's still planetside,
trying to talk sense
into the Perseids.

He might as well appeal
to a Nightsider's generosity.

Blind idealism on overdrive.
So, he talks, and we sit.

Unless you've got
any bright ideas.

Sadly, I doubt our beneficent
commander would appreciate it

if we were to nuke
the planet from orbit.

Though I can hardly say
I'd mind the exercise.

Threats won't work.
And apparently,
neither will diplomacy.

Which leaves?
Valentineology

Albuquerque Drift.
Land of the expensive
and home of the sucker.

Oh, this is so neat!

You can win money, go to
the all-you-can-eat buffet,

and even enjoy the comedy
stylings of the Supreme
Mirth Inducer, Unru.

I don't know.
Perseid stand up comedy?

Some things are
just so wrong.

All right, let's
get this over with.

Gerentex, are you there?

Where else would I be?

Oh, the injustice of it all.
The inherent brutality.

It's the system that
keeps us Nightsiders down.

Yeah, yeah.
Cry me a river
and drown in it.

Just identify your friend
so we can get out of
Loser's Palace, here, will ya?

Look, at the bar.
Metal hair, nose-ring.

Miss Andulasia, I presume?

And who wants to know?

We're friends of Gerentex.

I prefer "associates."

Oh, I don't think you can
ever have enough friends,
wouldn't you agree?

Uh, yeah.

Shh. I prefer my men
strong and silent.

Well then you
won't like Harper.

Trance! Will you... I...

Much better.

So, I assume you're here
about the data he wanted?

Do you have it?
Oh, I've got it.

I lifted it off
of that wildcatter
he told me about,

not long before that
unfortunate run-in
with a faulty airlock.

That's great.
It's not great for him,
but it is for us.

Harper, give her the flexi.

I think that's the amount
you two agreed on.

Oh, it was. But now,
it's a zero short.

But you had a deal.

Did you really think
that I was gonna
stick to that deal?

That is so sweet.

When you get serious,
you know where to find me.

And so do you.

She wants me.
She really wants me!

She wants to get you alone,
slit your throat,
and rifle your pockets.

But go ahead,
see for yourself.

I will.

Harper! Stay.

And do what?

We can't raise that
kind of cash, even if
we sold the Maru.

Sure we can.

Yoshidono! Yoshidono!

All hail
the conquering Trance.

Place your bets,
please, ladies and gentlemen.

Let it ride.

Bets please and,
no more bets, please.
Le jeu est fait.

Uh, Trance, I think
we have enough.

But I'm just starting
to have fun!

Trance, now.

I win again!

Okay. Okay. Okay!

This enough?

Definitely.

Pleasure doing
business with you.

Hey, if you want pleasure,
you're talking to
the right guy.

Thanks, but I prefer
my men alive.

My purse?
She just took my purse.

Hey, fellas.

Uh, nice place
you got here.

You cheated us out of
half a million thrones.

Okay, look, you want
your money back,

you gotta talk to
the nice lady who
just ran out that door.

You two!
Where's Gerentex?

I'm gonna turn him into a rug.

Well,
that went quite well.

I think it went swimmingly.

This is why you kill him.

Aren't you forgetting
the math, here?

Dead Harper plus
reactor overload equals
sayonara, Nightsider.

Yes, but it occurs to me

that you don't have any
vital organs in
your kneecaps. Do you?

Okay.

Much better.

You know, now that
he moment is upon me,

I must admit to
feeling a tad misty.

Once I find Tarn-Vedra,

all the painful struggle,
the years of yearning,
will finally be behind me.

I'll buy a lake.
Or maybe a small sea.

Start a harem of fecund
Nightsider females

who'll fill the water
with furry tadpoles,

and watch as the strongest
of our young

devour the weak in
the ancient dance of life.

Oh. That is so beautiful.

Isn't it?

You know, all I've
really wanted

was a home and a family
of my own.

To change myself
for the better.

You wanna change
your life for the better?
Put a bullet in your head.

Seamus Zelazny Harper,
you take that back this instant.

Trance, that is the bad guy.

Habla es "bad guy"?
Villain? Antagonist? Thug?
Pain in the...

Just because he comes from
a different culture with
different drives and values

doesn't make him a bad person.

That's strange. Aren't we
forgetting something?

Yes, I think we are.
Something important.

Oh, yeah. He killed you!

Not permanently!

And after I saw what
happened at the casino,

I truly regret
my harsh actions.

To think that I almost hurt

such a sweet, understanding,
profitable young lady...

I promise
I'll never do it again.

Oh, you don't have to explain.
I completely understand.

If you hadn't shot me then,

you could have lost control
completely, and then where
would you have been?

He was just trying
to protect himself.
Exactly.

I couldn't let you play me
for a fool then, and...

Ow!
Not now!

Et tu, Trance?

You know, I really
hoped I wouldn't
have to kill anybody!

Why do you do this?

Huh?

Why do you point guns
at people and threaten them?

I find it very efficacious.

Well, I don't.

In fact,

I think it makes you look like
a complete butt-head.

And if you think you
can try and kill me,
well, think again!

No. In fact, I dare you.
Come on!

What's the matter?
You afraid of
a little purple girl?

Yes. You are.
Because you're a criminal,

and all criminals are stupid,
short-sighted, self-centered...

You know, hurtful
stereotypes like that

give people like me
a bad name.

No. People like you
give people like you
a bad name.

If you had half the brain
that you claim to have,

you would know that
if we had worked together,
we would come out on top.

But no, instead
you decide to play
stupid power games

about who gets to have control
and who gives the orders.

If you keep walking
down this path,

you're going to end up
a very unhappy person.

You really do care,
don't you?

Yes.

Well, I don't care!

I've got the gun,
I'm in control,

and everything is right
with my world.

Hostile weapons fire.
PDLs activated.

Oh, yeah, you got the world
on a string, baby.

And furthermore,

if you can't see what you're
getting out of this deal,

then you are not just
the most petty, self-righteous
technocrats in three galaxies.

Then, you're even stupider
than you look!

Stop.

Yeah. I can explain,
uh, this.

Walk with me.

Oh, boy.

It wasn't just that
you insulted the Perseids.

It's the way that
you did it over, and over,
and over again.

Beka, the language...
Dylan, when you recruited us
to join your little quest,

you didn't just appeal
to the better angels
in our natures.

You told us how it would
be good for us.

Yeah, that's funny.

I remember that speech,
and at no point do I recall
suggesting that you

"get your chins
screwed on straight".

Yeah, well, I got
the Perseids' attention,
didn't I?

And now that I have it,

we can remind them
why the Commonwealth deal
works for them.

Assuming they ever
talk to us again.

Dylan,
sorry to interrupt,

but I have an incoming
transmission from one of
the Sintii Directors.

Probably Hohne calling.

Pipe it to my quarters.
I'll calm him down.

Actually, it's one of
Hohne's opponents,

and he's asking for Beka.

Faster, Harper, faster.

I'm doing the best I can.

Trance, any word
from our adoring fans?

They've just popped
out of slipstream.

They're two light-minutes
behind us, out of weapons
range, but just barely.

As long as they
can't catch us.

Best speed to
Hasturi's asteroid.

This will have to be
an in-and-out operation.

Hey! My favorite kind.

Ladies and germ, on your left,
Hasturi's World.

Right next to the galaxy's
biggest ball of twine.

Perfect.

Hasturi left the power on and
everything's still pressurized.

Wow. The lights are on,
and nobody's been home
for over 100 years.

The guy must've
been brilliant.

I don't get it, though.
There must be kilometers
of tunnels in this rock.

I mean, why go
to all the trouble?

Maybe he was afraid
of the dark.

Must've been a rough trip
to Tarn-Vedra.

Look, we can gape
at the scenery later.

Right now, we have to
find the mad Perseid's
sanctum sanctorum.

Our pursuers can't
be far behind and we all
know what that means.

That you're gonna get down
on your knees and beg for
mercy like a little girl?

There are two kinds of people
in this universe, Mr. Harper.

The kind with loaded guns,
and the kind who open doors.

You open doors.

Fine. Fine.

Allow me to work
the old Harper magic.

Ah!

Open Sesame.

Good for you.

Ow.

I think it's this way.

Now, if I remember correctly,
wasn't Hasturi a paranoid?

Yes. Like the purple girl
in a room full of
rocking chairs.

So, shouldn't he have
set some traps?

I am sorry, my dear.
Old habits die hard.

It's all right.

Okay, this way.

Screw this! I'm not gonna
be killed by some stupid trap
to help you find my diary.

Mr. Harper!

Oh, for crying out loud,
go ahead and shoot!

If I gotta be killed,
it's gonna be over my fame
and fortune, not yours.

So, excuse me.
I got a diary to go find.
Trance?

But, Harper, we need you.
Yeah, to step on
a plasma mine.

Set off your own traps.

On the other hand,
maybe we should
stick together!

- Run for your lives!
- But let me go first!

Hey, guys. Aren't you
a long way from the casino?

Well, allow me to provide you
with a small down payment
in hot lead.

I don't understand.
Why am I the only one
who attracts bullets?

Oh, that's our High Guard
ECM generators.

They mess up smart bullets
really bad.

Trance!

Are you out of
your freakin' mind?

I presume you mean that?

Yeah. We both have one.

How nice for me.
Gimme.

Make my happy thought
come true.

You dead.
That's my happy thought.

You are the one vulnerable
to weapons fire.

I would suggest you save
your own life before you
try to deprive me of mine.

Now move.

Well they've stopped
shooting at us.
I think they're dead.

Maybe they finally
decided to cooperate.

Keep working.

Fine. Fine.

Fine.

Sorry.

Now, sometimes,

it's more important to
understand why things
work instead of how.

You see, these doors are...

And why is this
important, class?

Because power pressurizes
the whole enchilada.

Faster, genius, faster.

Relax.

This door's solid
fluorine mesh.

They're not getting
through it unless
they're packing nukes.

Now, as I was saying...

Hey,
how you doin'?

The thing is,
what's been pressurized
can be de-pressurized.

That giant sucking sound
you hear

is Reaper and company
leaving the building.

You are a very bad person.

You're welcome.

Now let's move on
to the main course
so we can get off this rock.

This is it. Hasturi's lair.

Yeah, judging by
the, uh, dead Perseid with
the hole in his head,

I'd say you're right.

Yes, Hasturi's story
seems to have
an unhappy ending.

Whoa, I guess paranoid people
really do have enemies.

A dead Nietzschean.

I'm gonna go
look for that diary.

Trance will find it.

You, stay there.

You know, you catch
more flies with honey
than vinegar,

though I don't know why you'd
wanna catch flies. They're
quite dirty little things.

Just find the diary.

Right. Finding it.

If I was a diary of
a mad Perseid explorer,
where would I hide?

Take your time.

My trigger finger
never gets tired.

And if it does, well,
I won't shed any tears.

I would. For both of you.

You know, as much as I enjoy
these long, lingering looks
into your beady little eyes,

I don't think I'm ready
for a relationship.

I found it.

I have your ECM generator.

At this range,
my aim's pretty good.

I just got word
from the Council.

And?

Nice work. The Perseids
are back on board.

They may not
understand appeals to
their better natures,

but insults,
insults they take to heart.

Well, it was a team effort.

Captain and first officer.
You set 'em up and
I knocked them down.

Chinheads didn't
stand a chance.

The Commonwealth thanks you.

I didn't do it for
the Commonwealth.

I did it
'cause you're my friend
and you needed me.

Is that right?
Uh-huh.

Well, what do you have
without friendship?

Um, guys? It's been, like,
20 minutes now,
and I'm really getting bored.

How 'bout this?
I'm going to count to three,

and on three,
you're going to get up,

put your guns down,
and we're going to talk
about this like adults.

Great.

This'll be much better
than yoshidono.

Okay.

One.

Two.

Trance!

She's quick.

Very.

I am so sick of this,
you two.

With your violence
and your threats
and your shooting stuff!

Neither of you
gets it, do you?

There isn't enough love
in the universe as it is,

and you're both just helping
to kill off what's left.

So shape up!

Because if you don't show
each other a little peace,
love, and understanding,

I am going to kill you both.

Trance, you don't mean that!

I do.

You know why?
'Cause I could get away
with it because I'm cute.

You wouldn't.
Oh.

Dylan, it was so horrible.

They just... they killed
each other right
in front of me.

And I tried to stop them,
really, I tried,
but I couldn't.

By the sacred light,
she's right.

I can just see that
High Guard fossil now,

hugging her and saying
"Trance, it'll be okay"

while we lay here dead.

Drop your guns now!

Or in a few days,
Rev Bem's going to
find me on the Obs Deck

and counsel me
on my tragic loss.

Drop our guns?

Indubitably.

Good. Very good.

Now, move!

So, you get the diary
and I get nothing once again.

Am I wrong to feel
vaguely disappointed?

No. You get something,
the warm feeling of
knowing that you did good.

We're docked.
Thought you might like to know.

This is it, then.
The big goodbye.

Are you sure you won't
come with me?

We could tour all the casinos
in the known worlds.

Croupiers everywhere
would tremble
at the sound of our names.

Mm, maybe another time.

You know, I really
am sorry I shot you.

I know you don't believe me,
but it's true.

Wait. I want to
give you something.

Here.

Anesterian Tundra flowers?

The most efficient
oxygen producer
ever discovered?

I thought they were extinct!

If I could get
these three to reproduce,

I can repay my debts.
I might even...

You know,
this is, um...

the nicest thing anyone has
ever done for me.

Thank you.

You're welcome.

Everyone deserves
a second chance.

But only one.

Or as many as they need.

Move! There's another
crisis on Sintii.
We've got five minutes.

Again? What now?

Segraria Beach.
Celebration for
a job well done.

But we need to get
our butts planetside
before the sun goes down.

Come on. Move!
Go, go, go!
Come on!

Go, go, go...
Okay!

Hey, Trance,

I know I got a little
carried away back there,

and I'm glad you talked
some sense into me.

But you weren't really
gonna shoot me, were ya?

Absolutely not.

Not any more than
you were gonna really
shoot Gerentex. Right?

Right.

So. Still friends?

Best friends.

Good.

You know what you've done,
don't you?

You've kissed off our entire
tundra flower monopoly,
our best commodity.

No, I haven't.

I gave Gerentex
a beautiful thing
to call his own.

Beautiful things can
make sad people happy
and bad people good.

When you think about it,
beautiful things can
change the universe.