Original subtitles

[alarm blaring]

- [speaking Spanish]

[metallic crash]

[suspenseful music]

♪

[growling] [both yelp]

[alarm blaring]

- Gideon, what is it?

- I didn't sound the alarm.

It was Mr. Rory, I believe.

- [groans] Hey.

- Sorry.

- Oh, you're not used to my nighttime makeup.

I mean, no makeup.

Sorry to ruin the illusion.

- No, you, um...

you look just like her.

- Oh. You mean the other Zari.

- Yeah.

- I could change my hair if it would help.

- Help what?

- Whatever's happening down there.

[mischievous music]

- It's not my fault. - Mm.

- I was sleeping. - Yeah.

- It's natural.

- Whatever you say, Steel.

[upbeat hip-hop playing]

- Move your butts, people. Need you on the bridge.

- All right, all right. Just gotta finish my last set.

♪

Is he doing all right, Gideon?

- Mr. Tarazi asked me to formulate

an ingestible gelatinous cannaboid compound

to help him sleep.

- You make marijuana candy?

♪

Sometimes I wonder if they're ever

gonna let me back into Texas.

- [sighs]

Rory, what time is it?

- Technically, time doesn't exist in the Temporal Zone.

- Yes, thank you, Gideon. I just mean it's early.

- I got a hit on the alien that kidnapped Sara.

- What? Why the hell didn't you wake me?

- Well, remember that sketch I drew?

The, uh, squid face?

- Oh, yeah, I thought it was chicken wings.

- Well, Gideon helped me find this photo

buried amongst some old KGB files.

Report about a crashed space alien.

It was redacted until Putin was ousted from power in 2044.

- "Redacted"? "Ousted"?

Where are these words coming from, Rory?

- I know words.

Look, uh, thanks for cleaning me up.

[grunts] - Oh, thank you.

Oh, you even smell nice.

Gang, great news.

Rory got a lead on the alien that took Sara.

- Hmm. Shocking, honestly.

- Hmm.

The pod we're looking for was picked up

by military forces at 0600 hours.

It's en route as we speak.

The plan, rendezvous with it here.

Any questions?

- En route. Rendezvous.

Est-ce que tu parles français, Rory?

- What?

- Hey, this is great, Mick,

but shouldn't Gideon do the coordinates?

- Already set, numb nuts.

- Wait, shouldn't we stop by John's,

pick up him and Astra?

[all grunt]

[rousing music]

- Let's move.

It's a two-click hike through thick jungle.

- Right, I love the intensity, Rory,

but just a little heads-up would be nice.

- Okay, hold up, I thought this was a time machine.

Why not bring us back an hour earlier?

That way, y'all can change out of your pj's.

- Oh, girl, we don't ask those questions.

[exciting music]

♪

- Damn it. We forgot Behrad.

Spooner, what did I tell you about the Legends' buddy system?

- That hippie burnout wouldn't want no part of this action.

- Okay, Rory, what's the plan?

- Cover me.

- With what? I'm wearing slippers.

[suspenseful brassy music]

♪

[shouting]

- Commie son of a bitch tried to shoot me!

- Think it was a bad idea letting Rory run point?

- Eh, we've had messier missions.

- [screams]

[horns honk]

[shouting]

- Let's go.

- [screams]

[engine turns over]

- I'm in! Let's go!

- [grunts]

- Why is everyone shooting?

- Oh, they started it!

- Time to check on the loot.

- We're not bank robbers, Rory.

- Well, you wouldn't guess it by our use of guns.

- Yeah, well, right to bear arms,

that is my Second Amendment privilege.

- The right to tell you guns suck,

that's my First.

- Okay, we're not gonna shoot the alien.

we're gonna talk to it.

- Oh, what if it doesn't wanna talk?

- Then we roast it.

- Okay, just open the crate, Rory.

- Huh.

This alien pod's different than the last one.

- That's because it's not an alien pod.

It's a warhead from a Soviet

SS-4 medium-range ballistic missile.

- Uh, Rory, where are we?

- Uh, some island in the Caribbean.

- Wouldn't happen to be Cuba, would it, Mick?

- Please tell me you didn't take us to 1962.

- Why? What happened?

Oh. - Oh.

- Rory, you just dropped us in the middle

of the Cuban Missile Crisis.

- And helped us steal a nuke.

- So? - So?!

This is the moment in history when Americans and Soviets

came to the brink of nuclear war.

If we so much as sneeze--

okay, nobody move.

It could be Armageddon.

- Okay, but we can still find

the alien that'll help us find Sara.

- You remembered to cloak the ship

before we left, right?

[phone rings]

- Yes.

I see.

Let him in.

- Mr. President.

- If this is about the, uh, missiles

down in Cuba, I've already been briefed.

- I'm afraid that the nukes are the least of our problems.

These photographs were taken

on the latest U-2 pass over Cuba.

- What the hell is that?

- Mr. President, it would appear

that the Soviets have a new bomber.

[tense music]

- Gideon, what's the latest in D.C.?

- JFK just called for an emergency meeting

of his top advisors.

- Damn it, that's what I get for letting Rory run point

in the middle of the Cold War.

- It's all good. - Is it?

- JFK delivered a masterclass in diplomacy

during the Cuban Missile Crisis.

How do I know this?

Because I wrote my doctoral thesis on it.

- You wanna go to Washington.

- [as JFK] With your permission, Captain,

I would love to throw the ball--

- No. No. Lose the accent.

Way to wear that suit, though. - Thank you.

- Aw. Thanks, girl.

- What happened to your totem?

- Oh, old one clashed.

- I take it you wanna go to Washington too.

- Yes, I spent a lot of time on this.

- Ah, morning, team. What'd I miss?

- Nate and Zari are gonna make sure

that JFK doesn't start World War III.

The rest of us are chasing down

a displaced space alien in Cuba.

No big deal. - Cool. I'll just be--

- Ah, you will just be with me. Let's go.

Come on. - [groaning]

- [whispering] We're gonna go see the Kennedys!

- Good news, Captain. We found the pod.

- It's currently on its way to Fidel Castro's

not-so-secret bunker.

- Wow, you found the alien using your powers?

- Nah. CB radio.

- [soldier speaking Spanish]

- De nada, Capitan.

- Mm-hmm. Right.

Easiest way in is here. I'm guessing four guards.

We just blow the place to smi-- - Okay, I'll take it from here.

- They're not gonna let you just walk through the front door.

- That's exactly what they're gonna do.

Let's go. Behrad, come with me.

- Why do you keep grabbing me? Look, Captain.

Authoritarian leaders, secret bunkers,

nuclear missiles, I'm just not

feeling the energy of this mission.

- Too bad, because I need your energy, okay?

Can't afford any hotheads starting a nuclear war.

- Hey, I'm just trying to help you

find your girlfriend.

- You know what you can help me do is get the missile

back to the people that we stole it from.

- Wait, the Russians?

- That defeats the purpose of stealing.

- Our job is to protect history.

Remember that next time.

[soldiers shouting]

- Oye, oye. Where do you think you're going?

- Sorry, brother, we just got turned around.

Is there another entrance we can maybe try?

- Who is your companion? - Oh, uh, she's--

- [in Russian accent] I am Dr. Yevgania Shostenko.

At ease, comrade.

- Who are you here to see?

- Um, that's classified?

[suspenseful music]

It's cool. We can come back later.

- Oh, no, please. We enter now. It's--

- What kind of doctor are you?

- Em...

[clears throat]

The kind who specializes in extraterrestrial creatures.

- Why didn't you say so?

Follow me.

- We're supposed to give the nuke to the Russkies, right?

Well, those ain't Russkies.

- Uh, permission to shoot our way

out of a sticky situation, Captain.

- No, absolutely not.

The last thing we need is an international incident.

Do you copy? - Uh-huh.

- Was that a "yes" grunt or a "no"?

- [grunts]

- That's what I thought.

- Just let me do the talking, okay?

♪

Sorry, we, uh, found this rig in the jungle.

We're just trying to get it back to our Soviet comrades.

- It is a stolen missile!

- Yeah, we'd hate for a nuke to fall into the wrong hands.

- Which is why I must take it to El Comandante immediately.

- El who?

- Fidel freakin' Castro.

Sir, wouldn't the Soviets prefer that we return it to them?

- You don't understand.

The North Americans have started a mutant invasion.

You will follow us.

Did you not hear my order?

- Lead the way, comrade.

♪

How does this help history, again?

- Captain's orders.

- Well, I liked it better when you were in charge.

[engine turns over]

- I can't believe we're here.

- Okay, let's focus. What's the plan?

- Uh, I'm gonna try to get into JFK's inner circle

by pretending to be an international relations expert.

This way, I can keep his finger off the red button.

- Okay, what about me?

- Um...

you could pretend to be my--

- Secretary.

- Bingo.

[with Southern accent] - Yes?

- The boys could use a fresh pot.

- Oh, right away, sir. [chuckles]

- Who's the egghead?

- Do I know you?

- [clears throat, chuckles]

- Uh, I--I doubt it.

Dr. Nate Heywood.

- Harvard? Class of 1940?

- Yes. Go, Crimson.

- Well, you can always use

another Harvard man in the huddle.

Isn't that right there, Bobby?

- Class of '46. Nice to meet you.

- Bobby. Uh, Nate Heywood.

- Let me introduce you to the brain trust.

We have Secretary of Defense, Robert McNamara, class of '39.

- Nice to meet you. - Secretary of Treasury.

Douglas Dillon, class of '31. - Pleasure.

- Now that the reunion's over,

perhaps we can get back to business.

[tense music]

- General Kilgore here wants me

to upgrade our nuclear readiness to DEFCON 3.

- This photograph shows that the Soviets

have some sort of space age bomber

parked off the coast of Florida.

- [coughs]

[whispering] Damn it, Mick.

- What do you think, Mr. Heywood?

- Me? I, uh--I mean, a spaceship.

It's probably made of plastic and plywood.

- What did you say your area of expertise was, again?

♪

- You know, Mr. President--

- Call me Jack.

- Wow. Jack.

This reminds me of the 1942 Princeton game.

- Refresh my memory, son,

I was too busy fighting a World War.

- Thank you for your service.

It was a 0-0 tie.

A defensive stalemate.

Neither team put the ball in the air,

and neither got close enough to kick a field goal.

- What a terrible game. Both sides lost.

- But...when we're talking

about lobbing nukes at one another,

that is the only way both sides win.

♪

- He's over there. In here. Okay. That's good.

- Ah, just in time, comarada doctora.

The anesthesia is working,

and we are ready to begin the vivisection.

- [in normal voice] Uh, the what?

- The vivisection.

- [in Russian accent] Oh, oh, yes.

But first, can I have shot of vodka?

As they say in my country, it steadies the hands.

- No! There is no time.

The comandante wants to know

how we can best kill these mutant invaders.

- Oh--okay.

Then, uh, let the vivisection begin.

- Hey, uh, team powwow. - Mm-hmm.

- You're gonna, uh, kill the only alien

who can lead us to Sara? - No! Of course not!

I'm just stalling so I can come up with another plan.

- Okay.

- Okay!

- I probably should have mentioned this before,

but I do not like blood.

- Relax, everyone! [chuckles]

I am just going to make a--

a tiny, little incision, yes?

♪

[chuckles] We are good.

It's just a little, tiny bit of blood.

- [gags]

- Uh, okay, it's okay. Everybody, relax.

It's, uh, perfectly normal.

[air hissing]

- [gags]

[breathing heavily]

[Latin guitar music]

- This area is restricted. Come back here!

Let me see--

I didn't realize it was you, sir.

- No worries.

- Let me show you to the bunker.

Fidel will be so glad you're here.

♪

[suspenseful music]

Comandante, look who's here!

It's your old friend Che!

- Wait, you think I'm Che Guevara?

I never said I was Che.

- Then who are you?

- I am--

Che's cousin, Jay?

♪

[jaunty music]

- Jay Guevara.

Just as your cousin and I fought Batista's men,

you and I will fight the CIA's mutant army.

- Wait, you mean the alien?

- Oh, sent to kill me, no doubt.

It's like the Bay of Pigs

all over again, except this time,

we've been invaded by squids from space.

- Sir, I have an Ambassador Popov on the phone.

- Ambassador, what a pleasant--

attack?

What attack?

[tense music]

You lost a nuclear missile?

What do you mean, "stolen"?

It sounds like you've been drinking, so, uh,

call me when you've sobered up.

- What did he say?

- You'll never believe it.

The Russian ambassador just accused us

of attacking Cuba with a--

- Steel man.

♪

- Is that...

- At least it's a good photo.

- Steel man?

This is even faker than the space ship.

This is clearly a super yoked guy

in silver body paint.

- Actually, I have reason

to believe that it's real.

DARPA initiated a program to develop a serum

that could turn a soldier's flesh into metal.

It would appear that one of their

test subjects has gone rogue.

- Why didn't anyone tell me about such a program?

- Eisenhower didn't think that you Harvard boys

had the stones to deploy such a weapon,

but the good news is,

the weapon has been deployed for you.

But sir, if the Russkies think

that we sent a steel soldier to sabotage their missiles,

they might do something stupid and launch them.

[tense music]

- So what do you suggest I do?

- We launch a preemptive strike against Cuba.

We take their little island out of the equation.

- Mr. President, this reminds me

of the '39 Yale game. We--

- You are the quarterback here, Jack.

You're the one calling the shots.

♪

- Take us to DEFCON 3, General.

- [whispering] Yay, one less DEFCON.

- That means we're one step closer

to nuclear war.

- Well, that makes no sense.

[medical staff laughing]

- Can I tell you a secret?

- Sí, sí.

- I'm not really Russian.

- Are you North American spy? - Worse!

I'm a clone from the future.

I snuck onto the base to steal the alien!

I don't even know why I'm still talking like this!

Get comfy.

I'll be right back.

- Do you know the CIA had a secret plot

to try to put a bomb in one of my cigars once?

- [laughs] Not cool.

- But now I have a secret weapon of my own:

a nuclear missile.

I'm so done being a pawn in this game of chess

between the Americans and the Soviets.

If Cuba is attacked by squids,

I will wipe Washington off the face off the Earth.

Ooh, candy. Mmm.

[jaunty music]

♪

I've never seen this brand before.

- They're not for everyone.

♪

- Mmm.

- Strap in, dude.

[suspenseful music]

[all snoring]

♪

- [grunting]

[soldier chuckles]

- Fidel will decorate you two

as heroes of the republic for this.

- Great, great, I'll be sure

to put that one in my trophy case.

[sharp ringing]

- Headache, huh? That time of the month?

- Very funny.

- No, I'm being serious.

My daughter, she has the same-- [grunts]

- Oh, that's very sweet of you then.

But it's not my period. It's the alien.

[alien snarls]

I think my powers are getting stronger.

It's not just feelings.

It's almost like I can hear it talking.

- What's it saying?

[alien snarls]

- Don't wake up. Please, not now.

- Oh, that it is pissed.

We gotta find Ava.

♪

[alien roaring]

- I don't wanna hurt you, all right?

I just need to know where you took my girlfriend.

[alien snarls]

- [grunting]

[alien snarling]

[alien roaring]

- Let's get outta here.

- If I can force the Soviets out of Cuba,

then all the missiles will be mine.

- Would you mind if I played you a song, Comandante?

- I would have you killed

if you didn't play me a song, Jay Guevara.

[both laughing]

[guitar chords play]

[Cat Stevens' "Peace Train"]

[mellow music]

♪

- ♪ Well, I've been smiling lately ♪

♪ Dreamin' about the world as one ♪

♪ And I believe it could be

♪ Someday, it's going to come

♪ Oh, peace train sounding louder ♪

♪ Glide on the peace train

♪ Ooh, ah, ee, ah, ooh, ah

♪ Come on the peace train

♪ Oh, peace train holy roller ♪

♪ Everyone jump upon the peace train ♪

♪ Ooh, ah, ee, ah, ooh, ah

♪ Come on the peace train

♪

♪ Ooh, ah, ee, ah, ooh, ah

♪ Come on the peace train

♪ Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah

- [laughs] Oh, I must call Kennedy.

At once.

He and I are brothers,

just like--just like you and I are brothers.

- Yes! - We are all humans

placed on this one, fragile planet.

And the only way forward is...

love!

[laughs]

[hopeful music]

[alien roaring]

[tense music]

♪

- How about another tune?

- I told you that thing

was sent to kill me!

If it's war the Americans want,

it's war they shall have!

Prepare the missile for launch immediately!

♪

- [groans]

Oh, damn it.

We forgot Behrad. Again.

- [growls] Sí!

- Guys, thought you might like

a little update on El Comandante.

- Wait, you're with Fidel Castro?

- Yeah, we're super tight, but the problem is,

he thinks the alien was sent to kill him.

- Why would he think that? - Because it tried to kill him.

- Report back to me

as soon as the missile has been fueled.

- Oh, and also, he's preparing

to launch a nuclear missile at D.C.

- Why does Castro have a nuke?

- 'Cause we gave it to him.

- You said "no shooting."

- I said--oh, my God.

Oh, my God, this is not happening.

Oh, God. Okay, okay, okay.

Let's just hope that cooler heads

are prevailing in D.C., right?

- One of our boys flying over Cuba

reports a missile being fueled.

- Has Khrushchev lost his mind?

- It would appear that the missile is no longer

in the Soviets' possession, sir.

[laughs] Castro's got it.

- History is not supposed to go down like this.

[tense music]

- Say there, Jackie,

how would you and the kids feel about, uh,

getting out of town for a couple days?

- Uh, I think Jack's starting to crack.

- Does anyone know if Hyannis Port

is within the blast radius?

- There is no time for this, Mr. President!

If those Russkies catch us blinking now, we're through!

- What if this is just a big misunderstanding?

- What if those Russkies want us to hit Cuba

so they can hit us?

Those clever Commie bastards!

Our only defense is to attack the USSR!

- Jack, that is insane.

♪

- Take us to DEFCON 2.

- Yes, sir.

- Sir, maybe I can help.

- My secretary can type 120 words a minute.

This way, we could get the bombers in the air faster.

- And here I thought you were just another pretty face.

- [chuckles] Oh, gosh.

- There you go.

- [clears throat]

- This is a direct order

from the President of the United States

to the entire Strategic Air Command.

- I've never seen someone type with just their thumbs before.

- I want every B-52 we have headed towards

their primary targets in the Soviet Union.

Should we lose contact due to a first strike from Cuba,

it should be considered a direct attack from the USSR.

Full retaliatory measures must then be taken

without any further orders.

Because we'll all be dead.

♪

- Did you get all that, sweetie?

- Oh, every last word, sir. [chuckles]

- Guys, why is Fidel starting World War III?

- Because he thinks you guys are invading Cuba with aliens.

Look, Behrad's trying to cool him down.

- Comandante.

You have a phone call.

It's Che Guevara.

- Hello, old friend.

Yes, I know.

The news is very scary at the moment.

[laughs]

Yes, I wish you were here too.

But I have a comrade-in-arms right next to me

who's the next best thing.

[exciting music]

♪

Tell the CIA to call back their squid soldiers,

or else I'll launch the nuke!

- Oh, my God.

[tense music]

Okay, sounds like you're up, Rory.

- Thought I was in the doghouse.

- That's when we were trying to finesse the situation.

Plans change.

- You want us to kill the alien?

- We don't have a choice, okay?

Spooner, I need you to help him track it.

We need to deescalate the situation

and get history back on track.

- Screw history! You kill the alien,

you kill any chance of finding Sara.

- And if we don't kill it, then Castro

starts a nuclear war,

and Sara doesn't have a home to return to, okay?

I do not have time to game this out with you, Rory.

We will find another way to find Sara.

- Right. Lot of big brains on this ship.

I'll just stick with what I know.

You should never have cleaned me up.

I'm better off doing what I do best:

being a goon, killing people.

- Yes.

That's exactly what I need.

- Right.

Least I know what I'm here for.

♪

- Alien's gone. [sharp ringing]

- No, it's still here, I can sense it.

- Base is wide open.

Why would the stupid thing still be here?

- It's not stupid, it's looking for something.

You know, it wasn't right for Ava

to try to pin this all on you.

- I don't give a rat's ass.

- You were just trying to find Sara.

- No, I was pretending to be somebody I'm not.

- So you're just gonna go back to being a dumb drunk?

That it? - Yes.

[suspenseful music]

[alarm blaring]

- Is that...

[alien growling]

- What's it want with the nuke?

- I think it wants to get away from here.

Like, off this planet.

- Wait here.

♪

Hey, dummy.

[alien snarls]

You really think you're gonna hitch a ride home on that thing?

[alien chitters]

It's a missile!

[alien roaring]

[groaning]

Go ahead, eat me.

But you're not gonna get home.

- Let him go!

[alien snarls]

I know you understand me.

Put him down, or I blow your ass away.

- That thing is not a spaceship.

But lucky for you,

I've got my own.

[alien chittering]

- Keep talking.

It understands you. It just doesn't trust you.

- You're not as dumb as you look.

[alien chittering]

- The alien wants its own spaceship, not yours.

[alien chittering]

- I can take you to it.

[alien snarls]

But under one condition.

You help me find my friend.

[alien roaring]

- She's asking you a question.

- She?

- Yeah, she wants to know what kind of fuel

the Waverider uses.

Sounds like we got a long trip to find the captain.

[tense music]

- Comandante, what are you doing?

- What does it look like I'm doing?

- You will start World War III.

You will kill all of us.

[computer beeps]

♪

[alarm blaring]

- History will absolve me.

[rocket engine roaring]

[computer beeping] - Call for you, General Kilgore.

- Thank me? What for?

What three-day weekend?

And who all received that order?

The entire Strategic Air Command?!

Should've known that she was too good to be true!

This secretary has been countermanding your orders, sir,

and if Fidel Castro launches that missile,

you have only got seven minutes

to order a counterstrike against the Soviet Union.

- But I thought you said

all our B-52s are still on the ground.

- Well, as much as it pains me

to have to ask the navy for help...

- What is that?

- That is the nuclear football.

- Sir, that allows you to contact

the nuclear submarine captains directly

and order an all-out strike against the Soviets.

- Jack, they don't want a nuclear war

any more than you do.

[teletype clacking]

- There's been a report of a missile launch from Cuba.

- Clock is ticking, sir.

- Somebody get me Premier Khrushchev.

This has to be a mistake.

- You wanna negotiate?

They were right about you. You are soft.

Well, if you don't have the guts to stand up to those Commies,

I guess I'll have to do it myself.

You take one more step-- - Or what?

♪

- The steel man.

- You're damn right.

Look, Jack, I didn't go rogue.

I'm here to protect the world from guys like him.

- I'm guessing your accomplice here

ain't quite so bulletproof.

Come on!

♪

- Boys. Huddle up. Huddle up!

- Okay, we gotta get that nuclear football back, boys.

- Hey, Bobby, what was that play we ran

against Dartmouth back in '39?

[whispering indistinctly]

- Guess we don't need you anymore.

- Rude.

- 30 seconds for the safeties to be released.

All we gotta do is to keep that football

out of the hands of those lily-livered Harvard boys.

- Okay, Crimson on three.

One, two, three. all: Crimson!

[exciting music]

♪

- Hike!

[all grunting]

♪

- This is fun.

[bone cracks] - Oh!

[in slow-motion] My back!

[groans]

- No.

♪

[grunts]

Intercepted!

[triumphant music]

Whoo!

♪

To tell you the truth, sir,

this football belongs in your hands.

[teletype clacking]

- The missile's headed straight for us, Jack.

It'll be here any second.

- The safeties are off.

You still have time to strike back.

This game ain't over yet, Mr. President.

- It's not a damn game.

Whoever launched that missile,

for whatever reason, it was a mistake.

You strike back at the Soviets, they're gonna strike back at us.

- That is why it is called "mutually assured destruction."

- Clearly you do not understand the concept!

Listen, Jack,

just because we're about to die

doesn't mean we take the whole damn world with us.

[tense music]

♪

- You're right.

I'm spiking this football.

[solemn music]

♪

- Um...

Are we about to die?

- Yeah.

But at least we gave it the old college try.

- Well, I ain't going out without a fight!

♪

[rockets rumbling]

Take that, you Commie bastards!

- Um...

think we can let go of our hands?

- You did it, Jack! You saved us all!

- [laughs]

Luck of the Irish, I guess.

[exciting music]

- Come on, buddy. Get in there.

Yeah. - No. Yeah?

- Yeah. - Yeah. Ah! Ah!

[all yelling]

[all whooping]

Go, Crimson!

- Captain, I'm detecting an unusual level

of radiation on the ship.

- Rory.

[alien chitters]

- Are you sure it's safe for us

to be carrying plutonium around?

- No.

- Whoa!

[alien snarls nonchalantly]

- Oh, uh, this is not how it looks.

- I know.

I owe you an apology.

You saved the entire world from nuclear Armageddon, Rory.

- Well, I, uh...I had help.

- Yeah.

[alien chitters]

It doesn't say much, does it?

- Oh, she does. You'd be surprised.

- Did you say "she"? - Mm-hmm.

- Huh. So what's the plan?

- Well, she's hooking some kind

of turbo charger to the Waverider.

- Why would she help us?

- I promised her I'd help her find her ship.

- Okay. Do you trust her?

- No, it's why I'm going alone.

- Oh--uh, no. But that--

- But no.

You said your job is to protect history.

- I also said your job wasn't to think for yourself,

but had you listened to any of my orders,

we'd have absolutely no hope in finding Sara, so I...

[soft music]

♪

I guess you got this.

- Stop saying nice things.

♪

- You just bring me back my girl, okay?

- Mm.

- Good luck, big guy.

- Sorry, what happened to the ship?

- It should be somewhere around here.

- [sighs] God, these shoes are killing me.

And this stupid hair.

I look like her again, don't I?

I hate that I'm a reminder of everything you lost.

- You're not.

I mean, I guess at first.

- But now?

- Now you just remind me of you.

- Wasn't there a Waverider here?

- Hmm. - Hey.

- [gasps, claps] Well played, gang.

How'd you manage to avert nuclear Armageddon?

- Sports analogies. - Hmm.

- Pot gummies. - Ah.

Very on brand for both of you. - Thank you.

- Hey, where are Rory and Spooner?

- That son of a bitch stole our ship.

- Ah, very on brand, Mick. - Oh, come on.

- You should be thanking him for stealing the warhead

out of the missile that Fidel launched on D.C., yes?

- Thanks, Mick. - Hmm. Oh!

And he made a deal with the alien

to take it to its ship as long as

it took us to Sara.

- So he stole the ship? - But it's--

- Sorry, my phones are on that ship.

- So was my--

oh, thank God.

- How are we gonna catch aliens now?

- So-so-so sorry, where are we going to live?

both: Constantine's house.

- Sweet. I could use a little R&R.

- All of us under the same roof with John and Astra.

- Could be a real bonding experience.

- He's gonna hate it. Let's leave.

- Okay. - Damn.

Rory had the right idea.

- Hmm? Hmm?

[mischievous music]

- Nobody wants your drugs!

- [sighs] Mom.

- Listen up.

Before we start this little journey of ours,

let's get a few things straight.

Keep your slimy tentacles off my stash, understand?

[alien snarls]

That better be a "yes."

[alien snarls] Listen.

If you're gonna run your ugly mouth off

this whole trip, we're gonna have problems.

[tense music]

[mischievous music]

- I was just asking if you had anything stronger onboard.

♪

Don't mind if I do.

[sighs]

Here's to long journeys.

[exciting music]

- Greg, move your head!