Original subtitles

Mayday. Mayday. Mayday.

This is Commander Kellogg of I. S.A. Space Station Horizon.

Transmission--

--to Commander Drake. Tony, the crew has--

We are under-- I say again, we are under--

Croatoan!

And that, Mrs. Archer--

"MS-II Don't.

Ah. "Ms." Archer, I beg your pardon. Don't.

That was the last transmission from the Horizon.

Which, obviously, pretty vague.

Vague? You heard Commander Kellogg. He said the Horizon is under attack.

Well, under something.

He could've been saying "underfinanced."

What? Sterling...

What, they're always whining about needing more money for their boondocks.

What? Doggies.

You think space exploration is a boondoggle?

Well, come on, in this economy?

Exactly. Now, more than ever, is when we need to look to space...

...for the solution to mankind's problems.

In 200 years, Earth's population will exceed her capacity to produce food.

And even as the famines begin, global war will erupt...

...as fresh water becomes scarcer than gold.

But if we begin now, using the lessons learned aboard Space Station Horizon...

...a small group of brave colonists can terraform Mars.

And mankind can finally slip the surly bonds of Earth...

...to live forever among the stars.

Yeah, Lana. Wha--?

Jesus, read a book once in your life.

So where does ISIS fit in, commander? Well--

I think that's a bit premature until we discuss our fee structure.

As to that, you can name your price.

Oh, now they've got-- Enough.

Commander? As to our role?

Horizon has an international crew. American, German, Chinese, French--

ARCHER: Ba-dum-bum!

Uh, sorry. I thought "French" was a joke.

Is mutiny funny to you, Mr. Archer?

I don't know, maybe a mutiny of clowns.

Because I fear that one faction, led by radical nationalists, has mutinied.

But who? Which one?

If he knew, he would tell us. Read a book.

And since I don't know which faction is behind the mutiny--

If there even was one.

--I can't trust anyone at the I.S.A. which is why I came to ISIS.

Because of our loyalty.

Or lack thereof. Or whatever.

Because I need a small cadre of highly trained agents...

...to fly into orbit and help me retake control of Horizon.

Nope. Archer. Yep. Lana.

He just said "highly trained." And last time I checked...

...none of us were even lowly trained to be astronauts.

Well, how hard could it be?

Incredibly.

But since apparently money is no object...

The training schedule will have to be highly compressed.

The shuttle Intrepid is launching in three days.

And I won't lie to you. This mission will be dangerous.

Would you say we'd be venturing into a zone of danger?

Well, yes, obviously.

No, I mean how would you phrase that?

L-- The zone will be one of danger?

No, I mean-- Not-- If you'd say the thing--

Forget it. Never mind.

And you never mind and also shut up.

ARCHER: Ow! Jesus, Krieger, that's the bone.

Oh, the mean doctor takes the widdle baby's blood, and widdle baby goes-- Ow!

You're a baby. And astronaut training sucks complete ass. Literally.

What is the deal with all the enemas? Uh...

And why do you need so much blood?

Wait. Now that I think about it, why--

Why is this man in the restricted area?

Who? Him?

You. Krieger.

Uh, smoke bomb!

And why aren't you with the other trainees?

I was told I had to undergo a bunch of extremely invasive medical tests.

Well, normally you would, but by our doctors.

But since you're on such an accelerated training schedule--

Six enemas is a luxury we can ill afford. Got it.

Six? Who knows? He put me under. Maybe 12.

Now you've wasted half a day, so the other trainees are way ahead of you.

ARCHER: Not for long they're not.

Well, he's eager, I'll give him that.

Well, you inspire him. With all those medals on that powerful chest.

Your wife is a very lucky-- Oh. I'm a widower.

Oh. Difficult to meet people, isn't it, in jobs like ours?

I only mention it because I also happen to be single.

Yes, I know.

Excuse me.

I hope to God that was alcohol.

LANA: No. Yes.

Damn it, Archer. It's my turn. Cyril.

Cyril, Drake said let me fly it.

Cut it out, Archer. I'm landing. COMPUTER: Fifty meters, 40...

Come on, baby, keep that nose up.

COMPUTER: ...30 meters...

Aah! What the--? COMPUTER: Explosive decompression.

ARCHER: Happy, Cyril?

You just destroyed Alderaan.

Damn it, that was closer than any of us have gotten to actually landing.

A, because you're all crap. And B, who cares? We're not gonna land it.

What the hell-- DRAKE: ls going on in here?

Archer-- Saw an electrical fire in the simulator.

And knowing that my colleague's life was in danger, I--

Acted without thinking.

As always. Not always.

Well, thank God you did.

What--? But almost always.

Because that's exactly the kind of decisive action this mission calls for.

You could all learn from him.

Oh, my God. Come on.

Starting with a little training exercise we lightheartedly call...

...the Vomit Comet!

And if you're wondering why we call it that...

GILLETTE: It's all in my hair.

CYRIL: Oh, Jeezy H. Petes.

ARCHER: The hell is wrong with you, Lana?

DRAKE: That's why we call it that.

What possible reason could there be to subject human beings to--

Such mind-shattering awesomeness!

The KC-135 flies in a parabolic arc--

Ha, ha. Who cares?

--Which allows us to achieve weightlessness for about 30 seconds.

We'll do this 20 times... ARCHER: Whoo!

Weightlessness!

...so you can get acquainted with the sensation of being weightless.

It takes some time getting used to, but-- Ow.

Agent Kane, are you all right?

Yep, yep, Yep-

What is going on with you?

Do not like.

What, are you crazy? What's not to-- Oh.

No. Archer, no!

Yes! Please don't do this.

What's that? Sorry, I couldn't hear you over the sound of the--

Come on!

Looking good! Only 19 more to go!

LANA: Nineteen more times...

...until there was literally no more fluid left in my body.

And thanks so much for that. Cyril.

She's not the one who kept riding you into it, holding your mouth open.

Jeez. Even in zero gravity, you're an asshole.

You were saying? To the wet-towel wielding survivor...

...of 15 years of boarding school locker rooms?

Wait, 15?

Or whatever. The normal number.

Twelve? DRAKE: Yes.

We will launch in 12 hours.

We received another transmission from the Horizon. They can't wait.

But we haven't been trained properly! To what? Wear a seat belt?

Actually, is it a five-point harness, or--?

I admit this isn't an ideal scenario.

Speaking of, what's the scenario when we get to the Horizon?

We don't have a tactical plan. We don't--

Plenty of time to discuss our plan during the flight.

But-- Lana. What has gotten into you?

More like what got out of her.

Sir, I'm not sure Lana-- Sorry, honey-- is physically capable of spaceflight.

Ray. Actually, I might not be cut out for it.

I'm sorry to hear that, Agent Kane.

Because you're going.

To a zone...

...which is one of danger.

COMPUTER: T-minus 90 seconds.

DRAKE: Roger, Control. All systems are go.

Next stop, Horizon.

Okay. Archer?

I'm sorry. Are you talking to me?

Or to her? Who-- Why is she here?

MALORY: Because Tony invited me. ARCHER: Tony?

You trying to get my mother into the Million-Mile-High Club?

Sterling. Archer.

Would you calm the hell down? I am calm! I'm also out of here.

Take your hands off that harness.

Make me. And just so you know.

She-- Aah!

Can't breathe.

MAN : Flight, we're showing suit number two with an O2 malfunction.

Double-check that. I'm showing green across the board.

MAN: Stand by. DRAKE: That's a roger, standing by.

MALORY: Tony, please. He'll behave.

Won't he?

DRAKE: Excellent.

Because I won't-- I can't-- let anyone jeopardize the success of this mission.

MAN: Flight, O2 on suit two is showing normal. But keep an eye on it.

Oh, I will.

Hooray. Resume countdown, Control.

MAN: Roger, Flight.

COMPUTER: T-minus five, four...

Exciting, isn't it? ...three...

...two, one.

I think it is.

COMPUTER: Ignition.

MAN: Liftoff.

Just relax and rely on your training.

Which we didn't have!

Because Phase Two is a little rough.

ARCHER: Phase Two? What's Phase--?

That was Phase Two.

Did not like.

Wait till you see Phase Three.

ALL: What's Phase Three?

I'm kidding. There is no Phase Three.

Just a little space humor.

ARCHER: Yeah, funny stuff.

DRAKE: Right?

Right, then.

I want to brief you all on what to expect when we dock with Horizon.

Uh, can we expect a pharmacy?

Lana, it's not a strip mall.

Although, I assume there's a bar?

A bar? Or, whatever. Cantina?

Uh, no. Please pay attention.

We'll dock here, move forward on foot toward Horizon's bridge--

Wait, on foot?

Horizon has artificial gravity.

Look. See how it spins on its longitudinal axis?

Lana, look at it spin.

When we reach the bridge, we'll retake control of Horizon.

But we can expect heavy resistance. I'm sure the mutineers are armed.

With what, slide rules and Tang?

The M-41 Mark Two plasma-pulse rifle with concussion grenade launcher.

Holy shit!

On "kill" mode, the M-41 fires lethal plasma ammunition.

On "stun," it fires an ion pulse, similar to an EMP.

And can it be fired with an erection?

Oh, for God's sake. Archer! Muzzle!

Relax, it's on stun, Lana.

Careful. Even on stun, it can--

Oops.

Clear. Clear!

Ow!

As I was saying, it's possible for the EMP to stop a man's heart.

So "stun" may be a bit of a misnomer.

Damn it, Archer.

I'm not the one who was all sweaty.

Mr. Archer, that's twice you've jeopardized the success of this mission.

There will not be a third.

MAN : Uh, flight, we have a problem.

Well, don't look at me.

DRAKE: My God.

On this trajectory, we'll miss Horizon. Control, what happened?

MAN: Burn rates were good. Flight, uh, stand by.

Uh, flight, we're showing that you are grossly overweight.

PAM: Oh, for--

I wouldn't say grossly. CHERYL: I would.

DRAKE: I would be well within my rights to jettison both of you into space.

Well within them. Malory.

However, for, uh, numerous reasons...

...one being, this ship can't actually do that...

...I've decided take you with us.

But I want to know how you got aboard.

What do you mean, how? Mr. Ar--

Archer! Whoa!

Yeah, so that safety is tricky, huh?

Clear. Clear!

PAM: Ow!

Awesome.

Son of a shit-snacking whore.

Mr. Figgis.

Lock that man in the cargo hold.

Who, me?

Aye-freaking-aye.

Ms. Archer.

In case I need to sterilize something. DRAKE: Get strapped in.

Agent Gillette, monitor this woman's vital signs.

Agent Kane, come with me. I may need some help getting us to Horizon.

So that we don't die writhing in agony, when we run out of oxygen.

Yeah, been there. No picnic.

Uh, speaking of, great for picnics.

The tofu teriyaki, not so much.

CHERYL: There's teriyaki?

CYRIL: No. Cyril, come on, let me out.

No, you jerk. You shoot me in the heart with a space-blaster?

Are you k-- You're still mad about that?

Not to mention whatever idiot reason you had for smuggling Pam on board.

You're screwing him, aren't you? What? Yes.

No! Because if we don't die, for all I care, you can rot in there.

ARCHER: Cyril? Cyril!

Well, good luck fighting a bunch of-- whatever-- space-pirates without me.

**** you, space.

DRAKE: Come on, baby, just a few more seconds!

Damn it!

I don't know if that was a long enough burn. Agent Kane, I need a readout.

Ugh! For God's sakes, woman. Dramamine!

It makes me sleepy. I think we're okay, sir.

Thank God, because we're out of fuel.

What? How are we gonna get back to Earth?

There is fuel. On Horizon.

Well, I didn't know that.

Flight computer will dock the ship. Assemble boarding party.

Nor was I told there would be a party. Lana, what are you wearing?

DRAKE: Bio-matrix composite body armor.

Effective against small-arms fire. And we need all the help we can get.

Since there's only four of us.

Yeah, that seems kind of few.

If you need help, I'll-- DRAKE: No.

We can't jeopardize the women.

Cough. Well, not you.

No, Agent Kane, I'm afraid your particular skill-set outweighs your--

COM P UTER: Docking complete.

Is that a ghost? Nope.

Boarding party, into the airlock.

COMPUTER: Gravity engaged.

Weapons on stun. Fast and hard to the bridge.

And remember, these are mutineers. Even if they try to--

suppressing fire!

Ugh. Otherwise, just follow me.

And try not to shoot me in the-- Oh, shit.

What the hell? ls wrong with me?

It's the artificial gravity. You have to readjust to it.

I'll get my inner ear right on that.

We don't have time for this.

MAN: There they are!

Drop your weapons. Drop your weapons!

Suppressing--

Uh, so does this run on batteries, or--?

Fire! Aah!

Get them! Get them!

Get them! MAN: Fire!

We're pinned down!

Oh, really?

You don't think I could rock this?

Ahem. Couple things.

One, I don't know what that means.

And two-- Hang on.

Hang on.

Hang on.

Hang on.

And two, you obviously don't know what "boarding party" means.

Who am I, 16th century female Irish pirate Gréinne O'Malley?

Ah! Or her sole female descendant.

ARCHER: I'm sorry.

For what? Space-blastering me in the fricking tits?

Or tricking me into that fart-locker to get blasted into outer goddamn space...

...on the off chance you might want to bang me?

Both, I guess. Look--

After you blew me off for Katya, the big-titted cyborg.

Little Miss, uh...

RZ-double-DZ?

Ha, ha, nice.

Thanks. And I'm sorry, but you gotta let me out, Pam.

They're fighting space-pirates out there. With Cyril.

You're supposed to fire!

What is wrong with you?

ARCHER: And Lana can't even stand up.

You idiot, just reset the--

Jesus, you're like a dog in a station wagon.

No. We're losing the beachhead.

ARCHER: They're running out of time, Pam. Oh, all right.

That being said...

Quickie?

Meh.

Whoo! Okay, good luck.

Thanks. Normally, I'd say I don't need it, but I can barely feel my legs.

I call that the MOAB. it stands for--

I know what it stands for. I was there. Please don't say it out loud.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to...

Kick some space-pirate ass! Whoo!

ALL: Archer? Hang on.

Yes, Archer, duh. And if you're done doing each other's hair, let's--

DRAKE: Retake the ship!

Or just run around interrupting people.

DRAKE: Aah! I'm hit, I'm hit!

Oh, for--

Do I have to do everything?

He asked, intending to be facetious.

LANA: I'm sorry. I don't know what's wrong with me.

Besides suffering from gigantism? Shut up.

The bridge! We have to make it to the--

ARCHER: The bridge. Yes, I heard you. So unless we're going the wrong way...

DRAKE: No, that's it right there.

Then shut up. God.

Okay, now what? You can un-shut up.

The com-link, by the door.

Commander Kellogg? It's Drake.

Tony? ARCHER : "Tony"?

Oh, my God, am I glad to see you. We couldn't have held out much longer.

Well, we got here as fast as we could.

My God, you're wounded. Put him here.

Please, we'll take those.

ARCHER : Yeah, and here you go.

KELLOGG: Oh, dear, are you wounded too?

No, just-- DRAKE: Just a little space-sickness.

Eventually, she'll get acclimated.

I'm-- Eventually?

Yes, she's strong. Good breeding stock.

Hey! Whoa, Charles Benedict Davenport.

Uh, the father of eugenics.

Seriously, guys, read a book.

And two more on the Intrepid. Stowaways, almost as good as her.

Two more? Then we can populate Mars even faster than we'd hoped.

CYRIL & GILLETTE: What? Did you say "Mars"?

Oh, now your ears--

Wait, why did you say Mars?

MAN: Don't you see?

They're the mutineers. Aah!

Welcome to the...

...Danger Zone.