All language subtitles for Farscape 1999 S1E11

Crichton:
Whoo! This thing rocks!

Aeryn:
"Rocks"?

Yeah, rocks, Aeryn, as in
"kicks ass."

Oh? Well, I take it that
means you're pleased.

But I'm still not convinced

that installing these Moya
components was a good idea.

Great idea.
Best idea I've had yet.

That's far from a
recommendation.

Pilot, you still receiving us?

Pilot:
Barely. Stellar flare activity
wreaks havoc with communications.

If you keep moving out of the
planet's shadow we'll lose
contact entirely.

Crichton:
Can't be helped, Pilot.

Solar flares are what
I came to see.

Don't worry. We'll be home
in time for dinner.

Be careful, John.
This star is unusually erratic.

Sounds just like Crichton.

(loud boom)

Whoa! There's the lightning.

Make way for the thunder.

(loud boom)

(booming continues)

Pilot:
It's reaching us even here.

We should adjust our orbit.

Zhaan?

Zhaan, are you all right?

Yes, Pilot.

Oh, these radiation levels

are well within Moya's
tolerance, aren't they?

Moya's tolerance, yes.

However, there's still a small
chance that it could affect
her developing child.

Yes, of course.

Take Moya further into the
planet's shadow.

Flight recorder getting
all this?

You mean this retrograde
magnetic recording device?

-Yeah, that.
-Yes.

It was a solar flare, I think
that opened up the wormhole
that brought me here.

That and the slingshot maneuver
I was flying at the time.

What do you call the maneuver
we're doing now?

Slingshot.

Does that mean you're trying to
create the same conditions
to go back?

It's a long shot, but sometimes
long shots pay off, Aeryn.

What now?

Holy mother.

That's a wormhole.

It looks unstable.

It's pulling us in.

Evasive systems! Crichton!

Full reverse thrusters!

Crichton!

Crichton!

My name is John Crichton,
an astronaut...

...a radiation wave hit and I
got shot through a wormhole...

Now I'm lost in some distant
part of the universe on a ship.

a living ship full of strange
alien life-forms...

Help me...

Listen, please.

Is there anybody out there
who can hear me?

...being hunted by an insane
military commander...

...doing everything I can...

I'm just looking for
a way home.

Aeryn:
Crichton, look at it.
It isn't stable.

If we don't get away from it
it's going to tear us apart.

Full thrusters. Crichton!

Crichton, are you listening?

Crichton!

Crichton:
Yeah, I got it.

(yawning)

One would think one could grab
a few miserable arns of sleep

without being shaken from
one's bed.

Rygel, why must one always
only think of one?

Pilot, any sign of them?

Not through all the
interference.

Perhaps we should follow their
trajectory and look for them.

D'Argo:
Absolutely not.

Aeryn and Crichton are
on their own.

We said that we'd leave this
miserable planet as soon as
Moya was ready.

Agreed. There's nothing down
there we want anyway.

All right, so there's no reason
for us to stay.

(gasping)

I could think of a reason.

Hmm? Hmm.

She's gone completely fahrbot.

Pilot:
Yes, Delvian females are
unusually sensitive to ionic radiation.

One of the gifts of
the Delvian seek.

It's called a photogasm.

Rygel:
Yech.

I'll get a mop and bucket.

Crichton:
Whoo! Hey, hey, hey, happy
campers! Anybody home?

John, can you hear us?

Yeah, Zhaan, I hear you fine.

Guess what just happened?

We just started a wormhole.

D'Argo:
How nice.

Why don't you get aboard now
so we can leave orbit?

What? D'Argo, obviously,
you didn't hear me.

Read my lips: we just
started a wormhole.

Can't get out of here right now.

Uh, we have a problem.

Pilot, I'm reading a plasma
leak on the starboard
propulsor.

Can you confirm?

Pilot:
Confirmed.

You'd better prepare to
abandon the module.

Do what?

Pilot:
I'll ready the docking web to
pull you and Crichton in.

Aeryn:
Acknowledged. Better put your
helmet on, Crichton.

Whoa, whoa, keep your hand
off that eject button.

No way are we punching out.

You don't have a choice.

Pilot:
You can't bring the module
aboard while it's leaking plasma.

Yeah, we do. Moya can isolate
it in the maintenance bay
while we patch it.

Moya doesn't want to put
her baby at risk.

Nor should she.

Crichton:
Look, guys,

I might've just found
a way home.

D'Argo:
Your home, not ours.

Well, I am not going to trash
my module if there's any
chance to save it.

D'Argo:
There isn't. Stop stalling.

Rygel.

Rygel!

What?

Just before the flare started
you were on the horn down to
the locals, right?

You said you talked to somebody
who's some kind of m-mechanic?

What, it... name of,
uh... Furball.

Ah... Fellow. Ah, Follow.

Something like that.

Furlow.

Right.

Pilot, give me the location
of this Furlow.

Transmitting coordinates.

I forbid this.

Crichton:
You know what, D'Argo?

Sometimes you're a real
pain in the ass.

Crichton...

Crichton!

Pilot, re-establish contact.

I can't. The solar activity has
reduced the range of the comms.

What is a pain in the ass?

Human speak, I believe, for
someone irritating, stubborn,
obnoxious.

Rygel:
A simpleton, a dolt, idiot.

I get the idea.

Moron.

You're with me on this, right?

Oh, now it occurs to you to ask.

Look, sorry, okay?

I got a little caught up.
I thought we were just going
to collect some data.

I had no idea that we'd
actually start a wormhole.

Well, we did. And you were
ready to jump right into it.

No. No, I was not.

I could see it wasn't stable.

What if it had been?
What if it was stable?

What would you have done then?

Flown straight into it without
knowing where you'd come out
the other side,

and you were taking me with you.

Next time, Crichton,
you can fly solo.

Fine, Aeryn. Next time I will.

But right now, we have to
get the module fixed.

No, actually, you need to.

Okay, I need to.

I need your help.

As usual.

(high-pitched beeps)

(rumbling overhead)

(engines roaring)

(steam hissing)

Furlow:
Blown grezz conductor
is my guess.

Maybe an ionized frangle
as well.

Shouldn't be too tough to fix.

How soon?

Hard to say.

Should have it for you
by nightfall, probably.

Are you sure you've
got it contained?

Oh, don't you worry about that.

Old Furlow can handle it.

Everything's going to be just
fine. That's my motto.

No, other way, you dumb welnitz!

Have to tell them everything.

Of course, I've never seen a
spaceship like this before.

Hardly surprising.

Hardly looks spaceworthy.

Primitive alloys,
no hetch drive...

This thing belongs in a
collection, not in space.

Tell you what.

How about I do you favor and
take this thing off your hands?

She's not for sale.

No, I just need her fixed so
I can get back up there

before these flares
go away entirely.

Think you might be out of luck.

These flares are going to die
down before the day's out.

How soon do you expect
them back?

Regular as clockwork;
every 4.8 cycles.

Five years?!

Look, you're going to have
to speed up the repairs.

What for?

I got to get back up there.
I'm collecting data.

Oh, I see.

You do research into unusual
spatial phenomena, do you?

Has this got anything to
do with the repairs?

Just making conversation.

Don't make conversation.

Fix the module.

Crichton:
Um...

Sorry if we seem a
little pushy.

But we are in a hurry and
you're obviously the best
mechanic on the planet, so...

think maybe you can help us out?

Since you asked so nicely,
I'll see what I can do.

Now, if you'd like to get out
of my way so I can get on
with my work?

By the way, you'll be
needing these.

Nice glasses.

Furlow better be good.

We got to get back up there.

Pilot, can you read us?

Zhaan...

D'Argo?

D'Argo's just going to
have to wait.

No, we're going to have to
tell him something,

like we're going to be stuck on
this dump for longer than
we anticipated.

What's your problem?

You should be dancing
in the streets.

You know, if I figure out a
way to make a wormhole,
I am out of here.

I'm out of your hair
once and for all.

Unless you want to come with me.
You know that offer's
still open.

If you want to think about it.

No, I don't want to
think about it.

-Talk about it.
-No.

Crais:
Attention!

There are fugitives among you.

Fugitives that can be worth a
great deal to any one of you.

What is that?

It's a "wanted" beacon.

I am Captain Bialar Crais and
I am offering a substantial
reward

to anyone who can assist us
in the recapture of three
escaped prisoners.

Three?

The first...

is a Luxan male named
Ka D'Argo.

The second, a Delvian female
named Pa'u Zotoh Zhaan.

The third is a Hynerian
who styles himself as
Rygel the Sixteenth.

These three fugitives from
Peacekeeper custody have
violated their parole.

I know why I'm not there;
Crais wants to kill me himself.

Why aren't you there?

Oh, I think I might
have an answer.

Alien male:
You!

(alien snarling)

Alien:
Get away from there!

(beeping)

Crichton:
Who the hell is this?

No idea.

Let me handle it.

Who are you?

Have you come in search
of the fugitives?

We are just visitors here.

We have no interest
in fugitives.

(growling):
She's lying.

No, we're just curious about
this beacon here.

Is this your female?

I am no one's female.

(snarling)

(growling)

(growling)

Not your female, hmm?

Then you won't miss her.

(snarling growl)

Back off!

Get that weapon out of my face
before I feed it to you.

(snarling)

Now, you tell your bitch
to let my female go.

(questioning snarl)

Then this female is your mate.

One of them.

(snarling)

Now turn her loose!

(snorting)

Crichton:
You!

You keep your damn mouth shut
unless I tell you to speak.

(approving snarl)

Hey!

Now, who are you and what do
you want with the fugitives?

We are Vorcarion Blood Trackers.

The best.

Second best.

(snarling)

I'm Butch.

This is Sundance.

We're the Hole In The Sky Gang.

Butch.

And Sundance.

I am Rorf.

Worf?

Rorf!

And this is my mate, Rorg.

Well, Rorf, you can forget
about the fugitives.

Sundance, rip out that beacon.

I don't want any other idiots
seeing it and getting
a bright idea.

'Cause that bounty
belongs to me.

(snarling)

Pilot:
Solar flares are still making

long-range communication with
the planet impossible.

We've waited for Crichton
long enough.

Where's Zhaan?

(scoffs)

She's on the terrace,
soaking up solar flares.

At a time like this?

Zhaan.

Zhaan.

Zhaan!

Zhaan:
Oh... let us never leave
this place.

Rygel:
I don't think you want
to go after her.

She said something about
leaving her clothes behind.

I've had enough of this.

The frell with Crichton's
precious module.

I'm going down to that planet
and drag them both back
here myself.

Glad I could be of some help.

Crichton:
So, what makes you think the
fugitives are anywhere near here?

Rorf:
The Leviathan ship they stole
was sighted in a system not far from here.

We think this will be their
next stop.

Any more of you on the way?

Well, there could be.

The wanted beacons were
on several planets.

So why do you ask?

Just wondering...

how many more bounty hunters
out of luck because these
fugitives are mine.

(both snarling)

Knock it off!

What do you know about Luxans
or Hynerians or Delvians?

(questioning grunt)

The beacon contained
some information.

Crichton:
The beacon is useless.

It doesn't tell you these
fugitives won't be taken
without a lot of blood spilled.

We like spilled blood.

(both laughing)

Crichton:
Yeah, well, I don't.

Not my own.

How good are you two?

(snarls softly)

'Cause I might be willing
to cut you in.

You help me capture the
prisoners and I'll...

split the bounty, 70-30.

70... 40!

80...

40.

You in or out?

Are we in?

For now, hmm?

(laughing)

How long do you think your
ruse is going to work?

It doesn't have to last long,

only long enough for the
module to get fixed.

You know, you're taking
this pretty well.

I figured you'd be killing
yourself by now.

It's necessary.

What made you think of it?

It was a hunch.

My Dad had a couple
of Dobermans.

Dogs.

They're pack animals.

The biggest, baddest dog gets
to be the Alpha male,
the leader.

Well, compared to the
Vorcarion, you're neither the
biggest nor the baddest.

Yeah, well, they don't
know that.

Any sign of submission
and you're lunch.

I showed no sign of submission.

You didn't have to.
You're a female.

Sorry. I don't make the rules.

You certainly seem familiar
with them.

(beeping)

Crais:
Your personal encoding sequence
is accepted.

Officer Aeryn Sun, Special
Commando, Icarion Company,
Pleisar Regiment.

currently absent without leave.

Crais is sending you
love letters?

I suspected as much.

You have committed
numerous acts of treason.

You cannot hope to
avoid us forever.

You will be captured. You will
face trial and punishment.

Your one hope of avoiding this
fate is to accept my
conditional amnesty.

Abandon the human criminal.

Return the Leviathan.

Surrender Ka D'Argo, Pa'u
Zotoh Zhaan and Dominar
Rygel Sixteen.

Comply and you will retire,
honorably, with your commission
fully restored.

You have my oath as
a Peacekeeper.

Yeah, well, we know what
that's worth.

Come on.

Let's light a fire under Furlow
so we can ditch these dogs

before the flares go entirely.

Hey, you're not taking
him seriously.

I always take him seriously.

Pilot, I've landed near
the city.

I'll try to make contact again
once I've found Crichton
and Aeryn.

(sniffing loudly)

(sniffing continues)

That way.

Drop your weapon...

now.

Excellent advice. Do it!

(groaning)

I may have a buyer
who's interested.

I'll let you know.

Turns out the plasma injectors
are blown, too.

Your junkpile's going to need a
lot more help than I thought.

But you can fix it, right?

You know, you'd really be
better off just letting me
take it for scrap.

No chance. This is the second
time you've offered to buy it.

What's the deal?

Funny thing.

Some of the parts show signs of
brell phase distortion.

Almost like it'd been close
to a proto-wormhole.

Proto-wormhole?

What do you know about
wormholes?

Just that they're theoretically
possible but no one's ever
actually found one.

Yeah, that's what I
always thought.

Me, too, until I picked up
bursts of unusual gravity waves

not long ago in the upper
bonosphere.

Sure looked like a wormhole or
at least the beginnings of one.

Well, if you're right then I
really should get back up there

and get some more
readings, right?

Of course.

For your research.

You know, a good-looking
guy like you

shouldn't be getting around in
a pile of old junk like that.

Just so happens I recently come
by a secondhand Prowler

might interest you.

A Prowler?

Stay with the module.

Crichton:
Bonehead.

(growling)

Bonehead.

Good. You didn't screw up.

Hand him over and head after
the other two.

And leave him in your hands?

No. We shall interrogate
him together.

He can lead us to the Hynerian
and the Delvian.

Yes.

Who the hell do you think
is in charge here?

I will kill you, Crichton!

(growling)

(groaning)

Crichton?

Your name's Crichton?

Yeah. Butch Crichton.

(growling)

Crichton:
It doesn't matter what
you do to a Luxan.

He won't talk.

Hmm?

Well, it won't hurt to try.

(laughing)

It won't hurt us to try.

Oh, his hide is thick.

Ah, but I'll bet these
are sensitive.

Crichton:
and I'll bet it's useless.

Rorf:
Don't you want to find out where
the other two fugitives are?

They probably aren't even
on the planet.

Then we'll find out the orbital
coordinates of their ship.

Tell us.

Where are they?

Stop!

You're making him bleed!

Your point being?

My point being, it's dangerous
for a Luxan.

You see how dark the blood is?

You can't keep cutting
him like that.

You have to stimulate
the blood flow,

Increase it till the blood
runs clear.

Or... what?

Or it turns toxic and he
dies of blood shock.

Crais wants these
prisoners alive.

The beacon didn't specify
"alive."

(growling)

The one I saw did.

Who's calling the shots
here, Pluto?

Why are you protecting him?!

Hmm?!

Perhaps the two of you are
secret allies.

Hmm?

Rorg:
Yes.

Perhaps the fugitives have
offered you more than the bounty

to keep them safe from
the hunters.

(growls)

You think I care about this
piece of meat?

What I'm saying is, he is
worthless to us dead,

and questioning him is
a waste of time!

Then prove it.

Hmm?

Waste a little time.

You listen to me.

You listen to me, you
tattooed freak.

(growls)

I don't care if you talk
to me or not.

You can die right now or you
can hold on as long as you can.

But either way unless you do
what I tell you to do...

it's over.

You understand me?

Hmm?

Damn you anyway.

(Rorf and Rorg cackling)

He's passed out.

A waste of time.

Rorf:
The blood is clear.

He's alive...

at least...

for now.

How much longer is this
going to take?

Twice as blotching long as
if you weren't here.

Why don't you go for a nice
little walk outside?

Take in some of the sights.

What sights?

Well, if you go straight
out that way

there's a truly outstanding
expanse of sand.

Sand, eh?

Just as much as you could want.

There are plenty of things
I want at the moment.

Sand isn't one of them.

What's he doing?

Recalibrating the
retro-thrusters, probably.

No. He isn't.

He's trying to access the
flight recorder.

Hey! Get the frell away
from that!

Yoo-hoo!

(beeping)

Whoever he was, he's dead now.

You okay?

(gasps)

I can't see.

Ah, Rygel. I feel renewed.

Oh, Zhaan, are you
fully clothed?

I'm not wearing a scrap.

I'm as nude as a newborn baby.

Then go away and don't insult
my eyes with your naked,
blue extremities.

Which ones in particular
don't you like?

Show them to me.

No, thank you.

Aah! Help! Help!

A mad Delvian exhibitionist
is-is forcing herself
on me, visually!

(blows)

Oh, very funny.

Did you come here just to
irritate me?

No. Actually, I was looking
for D'Argo.

Well, you look down
on the planet.

He went to retrieve
Crichton and Aeryn.

By force if necessary.

Oh, I'll have to go
and find him.

D'Argo can be very impetuous.

Quick to anger.

Yes, please go.

Pilot, prepare the shuttle
for launch.

Why don't you just
take it easy?

It's only temporary, probably.

Probably?

Sure.

Sixty percent chance
of recovery.

Seventy. Eighty, even.

How soon?

Don't tell me, you're not a
pleebig ocular physician.

(sniffing)

A new scent.

Yes.

Very subtle.

(growls)

Delvian.

We got a problem.

D'Argo came down here and the
bloodhounds have him. Look...

"Look."

Right now, I don't look at all.

What are you talking about?

You can't see?

Don't worry. It's... it's only
temporary, probably.

Sure. 60% chance of recovery.

70, 80, even.

Aeryn, how did this happen?

Another bounty hunter showed up.

Another one?

She, uh, caught a solar flare
in the face as she was
taking him out.

Don't help me, Crichton!

You can't look after yourself,
not right now.

So stop acting like a
bad-ass Peacekeeper.

Ex-Peacekeeper. Actually.

Crichton:
I know.

Furlow!

We're going to need that
module, soon!

(grunting)

(sniffing)

The scent... it's gone.

Oh, help me. This is
hardly the time.

Rorg!

Rorg, let's go.

(whistling)

Huh, some days you get lucky.

D'Argo, wake up.

Damn.

You brought it. Good.

Now, I can start on your
sensitive appendages.

Look, we don't have time
for this!

This isn't supposed
to be happening.

You're not even supposed
to be down here.

Neither are you.

I just wanted to go home.

Well, no matter to the cost
to the rest of us.

What? Oh, right. Remind me.

Who chopped off Pilot's arm so
he could get a return ticket?

(grunts in anger)

Huh? No, it wasn't me.

I was too busy saving your ass.

Too busy keeping your
deepest family secrets.

Shall I chronicle the rest
of that relationship?

Relationship?

Oh, we have a relationship.

No wonder you want to kill me.

I once thought...

Thought what?

No, no, no, no.

Thank me tomorrow.
I saved your ass today.

You tortured me.

I saved you!

You know what?

I have no idea what goes on
in that tiny little brain of
yours, D'Argo.

I have no idea why you do
anything that you do.

Catch a clue, pal, cause I'm
tired of sticking my hand out
only to have you snap at it.

Every time I let down my guard,
you disappoint me.

Sorry.

I'm only human.

You look so much like a
Peacekeeper I often forget.

Is that it?

Or do you always have to
be the Alpha male?

Alpha male?

Yeah, the big shot.

The one with the big britches,
the leader.

You are so... childish.

You are selfish.

Can be. What about you?
Selfish?

Sometimes.

I ever come after you
with a weapon?

This isn't going to work,
is it?

We're never going to
be friends.

Friendship is a lot to ask.

Then how about respect?

We can be allies.

Warriors on Earth did this to
show that they weren't
holding weapons.

(beeps and clicks)

Hey, I feel for you.
I really do.

Must be hard for someone as
invulnerable as you

to have to rely on the
kindness of strangers.

You really have no intention of
fixing this module anytime soon
have you, Furlow?

Well, I...

don't normally have quite so
many bounty hunters getting
in my way.

Look, I don't know what
your game is,

but I think we might be able
to make a deal.

Do tell.

You any good at
cyber-manipulation?

I'll take Aeryn back to
Moya in the Prowler.

Works for me. I'll meet you
back at the ship.

This way.

(both yelling)

Move it!

Well, this is a good spot.
We're totally pinned down.

Not if I can help it.

(growling)

Where's the Prowler?

Outside the city.

Aeryn's at a place
called Furlow's.

It's across the square.
Think you can make it there?

I will not abandon you
in battle.

D'Argo, next time you pick
a place to hide, pick one
with a backdoor.

I did not pick this
place to hide.

They're trying to
outmaneuver us.

Give me your weapon.
I'll cover you.

At least you can get
out of here.

Crichton, you are my ally.

I will not abandon you.

Great.

So we can be buried together.

I'll deal with this.

Crichton! No!

Who the hell do you think
you're shooting at?!

(laughing)

So you switched sides,
have you Crichton?

Yeah, well, you know soldiers
of fortune and all that
always...

open to a higher bid.

Crichton's mate.

What the...

D'Argo!

Cover me.

(growls)

What the hell are you doing?

Shh. Watch.

I am Captain Bialar Crais.

The Peacekeeper Command Carrier
assigned to recover the three
escaped prisoners

has been called home on
other business.

Therefore, the reward offer for
the fugitives has been
officially withdrawn.

No reward?

Then is there any point in
continuing this?

Are you hungry?

Not that hungry.

Good.

They're all yours, Butch.

Come on.

How'd you do that?

Furlow did the reprogramming.

I came up with the idea.

Great idea.

Best I've had yet?

Yeah. Best idea yet.

D'Argo!

I got to get back to Furlow's
before these flares are
gone entirely.

No, John, they've stopped.

What?

You sure?

If they hadn't, I'd,
uh... well, I...

I'd still be indisposed.

There'll be other stars with
flare activity, John.

We'll find them.

So close.

Module's ready.

How's the vision?

Oh, it's blurry, but it's
definitely better.

Listen, Aeryn...

Crais's offer of amnesty.

You're not seriously
considering it, are you?

You don't think he'd keep his
word, do you?

I believe he would restore my
commission and give me
honorable retirement.

But, what he means by honorable
retirement

is a radiation-induced brain
fever to bring on the
living death.

Well, if you knew the offer
was bogus, why did you
even listen to it?

Because it was nice, just for
a moment, to believe it
was genuine.

That I could go back.

I better run a, um...
preflight check.

No, no. Rest your eyes.
I'll take care of this.

Actually...

Crichton, I, um...

I have a debt with Furlow
that I can't honor.

So, I'd really appreciate it if
you would settle the account.

Okay.

Furlow.

About the bill.

It's all there. Parts, labor,
overtime, goggle rental.

Goggle rental?

Okay, I'll throw in
the goggles.

You need any food cubes?

I beg your pardon?

I can't pay this.

Then we have a problem.

Unless, of course,
there's, uh...

something else of value
you have to offer...

and I don't mean your
charming smile.

You know, the ability to create
a stable wormhole,

travel through space and
time would be...

incredibly...

Profitable.

Probably.

Deal.

I'll download you a copy of the
data as soon as I get back
aboard the ship.

Exclusive rights or
there's no deal.

What?

No. No.

That-that data may be my only
ticket home.

Well, of course, you're welcome
to stay here and be part of an
exciting experiment.

I can't stay here, Furlow.
I got to keep moving.

There's probably half a dozen
bounty hunters on the way
here right now.

Well, then you really
have a problem.

The data.

I can start from scratch.

Pleasure doing business
with you.

Hey, Furlow?

Five years from now.

I'll be waiting for you at the
end of that wormhole.

You remember now any time you
need some repair work done

you know where to come.

You sure you don't want
that thing detailed?