All language subtitles for Roughnecks, S.T. Chronicles - Arc 03 - The Tophet Campaign (1999 - 480p DVDRip)

A struggle against the
common enemies of man...

a date which will
live in infamy...

ask not what your country
can do for you...

grand and global alliance
for all mankind...

Day 198 of the Bug War.

Another planet, another
campaign, another briefing.

And the Roughnecks thought
there were no surprises left.

Attention!

They were wrong.

At ease, Troopers.

This is Tophet, the planet
we are currently orbiting.

Sicon high command has deemed it a
strategic disembarking point...

to Quad 9 of the Omega galaxy.

Preparations for a base
are to begin immediately.

Your boy's got
stars in his eyes.

More like rocks in his head.

Any intel, sir?

Fluctuating magnetic forces have made
our satellite scans inconclusive.

That's where you come in.

Alpha Team will be one part
of an expeditionary force...

dropped onto the
planet's surface.

Your mission, recon Sector 7-H to determine
its viability as a landing zone.

Sky marshal wants this base built
and operational ASAP, and so do I.

That is all.

Sergeant, full prep detail and weapons
check. Geosynch drop at 0600.

All right, Apes, we're not getting paid
by the hour, so let's move, move, move!

Lieutenant, I just need a few
words for my pre-battle profile.

No. Is that few enough?

- New toy?
- It's not a toy.

It's a translating arachnid
linguistic communicator.

- "TALC box," for short.
- Thanks for clearing that up.

It analyses Bug screeches for
specific auditory patterns.

Once its microprocessor
deciphers the code...

it simply assigns each to
its English equivalent.

You can't understand a Bug.

It doesn't think like a human.

- Trust me.
- Well, don't keep us in suspense, Jenkins.

What's it like
inside a Bug's head?

Empty and black. It
lives only to kill.

- I wish I had a squad of Troopers like that.
- One's enough for any squad, Sarge.

- Hey, come on, come on!
- All right, guys. Knock it off.

- Whoa, whoa. Save it for the Bugs.
- Ten-hut!

What's going on here, Sergeant?

Just testing the power suits
for structural integrity, sir.

- That right, Jenkins?
- Yes, sir.

Drop in T minus two minutes.

Entering ionosphere.

Drop in T minus...

fifteen seconds.

Live forever, Apes.

Jettison pods now!

My jets aren't firing!

- Thanks, Diz.
- No problem.

Remind me to fire
my travel agent.

Jenkins, you getting anything?

No, sir. Must be the
magnetic interference.

All right, Apes, combat wedge.
Gossard, on point.

Since when do Bugs build condos?

They don't.

- Looks like nobody's home.
- Yeah.

But are they ever coming back?

I want a
structure-by-structure sweep.

- Higgins, Flores, cover our backs, here.
- Yes, sir!

And the winner of the award for
Journalistic Excellence is...

Pvt. R. Higgins.

Thank you, thank you.

Stand by the building, Diz, so
I can get a sense of scale.

Lieutenant, the welcoming committee
is here, and they didn't bake a pie.

On our way.

So, hot enough for you?

Did they just save us?

Halfway across the galaxy, and
I finally meet a gentleman.

Hold your fire!

Easy.

What are those things?

Probably asking themselves
the same question.

Obviously adapted to the
extreme environment.

I'll need to run some tests.
Or not!

Talk to me, Jenkins.

Picking up a complex thought pattern,
but it's jumbled, conflicting.

How do they feel
about trespassers?

Okay, I guess, or we'd already be a side
dish on the Tophet blue plate special.

Cool.

- What's the call, LT?
- Our op is recon.

The dwellings are sparse...

reflecting either a primitive nature or
a highly evolved minimalist existence.

That narrows it down.

Looks like they brought us
home to meet the family.

One alien steps forward.
Could this be their leader?

Whoa!

Guess they're a
little camera-shy.

Stow your weapon, Sergeant.
Their house, their rules.

Skinny has a lot to learn
about hospitality.

Sergeant, you and Flores
finish the perimeter sweep.

Yes, sir.

Guess we stay here and have tea?

- Great conversationalists.
- Any ideas?

Sir, my TALC box, with
some modifications.

Do it.

- Looks like we're double dating.
- Don't flatter yourself.

Don't turn your back, even for a second.
Aliens, you can't trust them.

Sarge, we're on their planet.
Doesn't that make us the aliens?

Something's been using the
buildings for a chew toy...

but there's not a Bug in
sight, dead or alive.

Right. Be gentle.

Can it understand me?

Yes.

- It can talk?
- So can a parrot.

- That don't make it smart.
- Said the parrot.

I'm Lt. Razak of the Strategically
Integrated Coalition of Nations.

I am Col. T'Phai.

Why are you here, Razak?

We hope to establish a base of operations
on your planet to help us fight the Bugs.

- There are no Bugs here.
- But...

The Bugs are dead.

They attacked, but ultimately could
not adjust to our atmosphere.

Alpha Team, this is Valley Forge.
Do you copy? Over.

We copy, Valley Forge. Go ahead.

What's the hold-up, Lieutenant?

I have a dozen ships up here
with their meters running.

Sir, we've encountered an
indigenous race, humanoid.

They appear to be friendlies.

Always knew we weren't alone out here.
Now we have an ally.

Look forward to meeting them.
Now, what's the Bug count?

Well, sir, zero
confirmed, but...

Razak, no Bugs and a village full
of friendlies equals a secure LZ.

Find us a spot to land.

Over and out.

Don't suppose you guys have an empty
parking lot around here somewhere.

"Ing lot"?

It's nice to meet another species that's
not trying to off you all the time.

If all the Bugs died from exposure
to Tophet's atmosphere...

where are all the corpses?

- Something's wrong.
- Earthquake?

It's a trap.

Troopers, fire!

Alpha One to Valley Forge.
Alpha One to Valley Forge!

Your friends will land, and
they will be destroyed...

just like you.

Roughnecks, with me!

Dude's wearing the bars.

Alpha Team, do you read? Over.

This real estate's
getting hard to hold!

If we don't wave off the landing fleet, a
whole lot of Troopers will be Bug bait.

Blue Leader, this is Alpha Team.
We are under attack.

Fall back to the village.
Doc, Brutto, lay down smoke.

Rico, Flores, cover the flank.

- We certainly are popular with the locals.
- We need high ground.

- You up for a climb, Ape?
- Yes, sir.

Mercury flares.
Universal warning.

Listen up, Roughnecks. Peel off
and take up cover positions.

We have to hold them off long enough
for Rico to warn the landing fleet.

- Still no coordinates from Alpha Team.
- No problem.

I'll find us a nice
shady place to park.

Whoa!

It's Rico!

- We have a red on the LZ.
- Abort!

All ships abort!

They're coming back, right?

Behind every great man...

I've got a plan. Trust me.

Only one way to find out.

Nice of you to drop in.

Commence retrieval
of ground forces.

LZ's too hot for touchdown.
Let's try a hook and ladder.

- Have you guys ever done this before?
- First time for everything.

One shot. If you're off the
mark, Trooper shish kebab.

I'll be back!

The war had been pretty
simple up till then.

Us versus the Bugs.

But now, with the skinnies
allied with the arachnids...

Sicon couldn't help but wonder how
many other enemies were out there...

waiting.

Day 19. A momentary lull in the battle
against the Bugs and the skinnies...

for control of Tophet.

Both had turned out to be a lot
tougher than Sicon anticipated.

Troopers were trained
to be fearless.

But the truth was that every
Trooper feared something.

Maybe it was staring into the cold
black eyes of an attacking Bug or...

being crushed inside a power suit
by a skinny constrictor blast.

For one Trooper,
it was the quiet.

First things first, and squashing
Bugs always comes first.

Dispatch number 137-B.

This is FEDNET correspondent
Robert Higgins reporting.

As I continue to cover the war from the
front lines, I find myself on Tophet...

a torrid planet in the binary
system of Ranara Seven.

The enemy was well dug in when I dropped
to the surface with the first MI troops...

Razak's Roughnecks: Sgt.
Brutto, Doc LeCroix...

Dizzy Flores, Jeff Gossard...

Johnny Rico, Carl Jenkins...

and, of course, the subject of
this piece, Lt. Gene Razak...

an aloof study in quiet courage.

Boy, this piece is going to
win me the Mirtel Award.

Higgins, Gossard needs a body.
You qualify.

This is constrictor
solvent test one.

Calibration on hold, pending
arrival of test subject.

Get a skimmer ready. I
want to poke around.

- Sir, if I could just ask you a few questions.
- Not now.

- But sir...
- Is your oxygen mix whacked out, Higgins?

The lieutenant said no.

Sir, with all due
respect, this is my job.

And this is mine, Private.

You want more access, you gotta earn it.
You rated on the skimmer?

- Well, I passed the simulator course, but...
- Good. Gear up.

Sir, according to
high command...

there hasn't been Bug activity
here for over a week.

- Keep your eyes on the road, Private.
- Yes, sir.

I was just wondering if you knew
something high command didn't.

- You ask a lot of questions, Higgins.
- I'm a journalist, sir.

That's too bad. I don't talk
to journalists, only Troopers.

- Dust storm?
- Let's take a look.

This may not be a good
time to mention it...

but I never actually passed
the simulator course.

I did it.

- What is it, Lieutenant?
- Trouble.

Blister Bugs. Spit acid that'll
burn through a power suit...

quicker than you can
scream for help.

HQ, this is Alpha Leader. Over.

Commander Marlow
here, Alpha Leader.

We have a hot zone
down here, Commander.

Bug activity,
battalion strength.

If they make it to the Montabi Mountains
and dig in, we'll never get them out.

- Copy. Your recommendations?
- An air attack will only scatter them.

Anti-matter missiles. Take all the Bugs
at once. Efficient, nonradioactive.

My thoughts exactly.
Make it happen.

We need a few hours to plot the attack
sequence, prep the ships and payloads.

We'll take it from here, Lieutenant.
Better clear out of there.

We're gonna light up that
sector like the Fourth of July.

Roger that, Valley Forge.

Roughneck HQ, we're
heading home.

Alpha Leader, do you read?

Transferring coordinates now.

- We have to go in after them.
- That's not standard procedure.

Forget procedure, Sarge.

If the crash didn't finish
them, that Bug horde will.

- You don't know that. I'm with Rico.
- Too risky!

- Troopers don't leave their own behind.
- Stand down, Private!

I'm not endangering the entire squad
just to pick up a couple of corpses.

Sgt. Brutto, they're alive.
I can feel it.

You better be right, Brain Boy.

Radio's dead.

So we just wait for the rescue team.
Right, sir?

There won't be any rescue.

I just called in an air strike, son,
and we're standing on ground zero.

They won't risk an evac team.
We're on our own.

There's a relay outpost
about 10 clicks north.

Its radio might still
be operational.

- North. That's...
- The heart of Bug country.

If you're gonna
shoot something...

I suggest you use this.

Listen up, Apes.

We have two hours, 47
minutes for retrieval.

Those anti-matter missiles
are gonna be vaporizing...

everything within
the Mito sector.

What are you waiting
for, a good-bye kiss?

Saddle up.

Nice shortcut.

I think we have company.

Constrictor spray!

I'd like to see that glop crunch
three tons of reinforced titanium.

You were saying, Sarge?

We're going down!

- Out!
- Door's jammed!

Who needs a door?

Head for cover!

Gossard!

Not good.

I'm increasing your O2.
Deep breaths.

Another successful
field test, Goss?

Fire in the hole!

Troopers, we are leaving!

Must be advance scouts. Move!

I think we made them angry.

That's right, you overgrown roach.
Come and get me!

Sir, what are you doing?

Jump!

- No sign.
- They must be on foot.

What does your crystal
ball say now?

It says we should
follow their tracks.

Attention all squads,
Mito sector.

This is Major Barcalow. Air strike
will commence in 58 minutes.

Return to base immediately.
All squads acknowledge. Over.

Sounds like a garbled
transmission to me.

Yeah. We'd better get to higher
ground and hope for a clearer signal.

What now, sir?

Time to abandon ship.

Thanks, son.

Chemistry 101, Private.

The high alkaline content in
the soil neutralizes the acid.

Lieutenant, how did
you lose your arm?

My first solo command during
Operation Pest Control.

My orders were to move my squad through
a valley and secure the hill...

on the other side.

Simple op. After all,
the valley was quiet.

Then it was quiet again.

Still feel it sometimes.
Phantom limb syndrome.

I guess some pain is
never meant to go away.

- We better keep moving.
- Yes, sir.

Better hope we find the lieutenant
and Higgins before they do.

- Does brainiac look a little fried to you?
- If he is, then so are we.

All squads reporting clear of the attack
zone, Major, except for Alpha Team.

Their last known
location was right here.

- The attack will proceed as planned.
- But, sir...

They have their orders,
and we have ours.

Be it ever so humble...

It works!

Make that call now!

Triangulate on that signal.

Seventy-six degrees longitude,
forty-eight degrees latitude...

two clicks that way.

Lieutenant, we have a problem.

We have more than one, Private.

We've just received an SOS
signal from the Mito sector.

- It has to be the Roughnecks.
- Carmen, you don't know that.

It could be a computer
glitch or a temporal echo.

I can be there with a
retrieval ship in 10 minutes.

The anti-matter engine mix is complete,
and the missiles are loaded on all craft.

What's the holdup, Major?

The attack squadron will
disembark in 10 minutes.

Any ideas?

Just one. Go out like Troopers.

- Is this a private party?
- The more the merrier.

Gossard, patch into the main
antenna, and get us a ride home!

This is Alpha Team.
Requesting emergency evac.

This is Lt. Ibanez. Hold tight. I'm
inbound to your 20. ETA, two minutes.

Valley Forge, this
is Exterminator One.

We are clear and assuming
attack formation.

Rescue One, what's your status?

Almost there.

I never thought I'd be so
happy to see the prom queen.

You gotta love that
girl's timing.

Everybody slides. Go! Go!

All ships, initiate attack run.

Copy that, Exterminator One.

Carmen, get outta there!
We're coming in!

Two more packages, and I'm out.

Go!

Target's acquired.
Awaiting command, sir.

Sir, the Bugs will scatter
if we don't fire now.

- Sorry, Carmen.
- All ships, missiles away.

Give me your other hand!

Now you have something
to write about.

Hold on.

Yes!

Sorry, I don't pick
up hitchhikers.

You didn't really know if they
were still alive, did you?

Lieutenant, how did
you lose your arm?

I guess some pain is
never meant to go away.

In the Bug War, individual
achievements didn't mean much.

Troopers lived and
died as a team.

But some battles couldn't
help but be personal...

and they were meant
to stay that way.

Day 27 of the Tophet Campaign, or
"Operation Shake 'N Bake," as we call it.

In the great Bug War, each squad
worked together as a team.

Sarge, I'm open!

Every Trooper had
a role to play.

At least, that's what the Sicon
recruiting poster had said.

Yeah! All right!

That's illegal use of
the head, brain boy!

Trust me, Sarge. It doesn't take
a psychic to read your mind.

Huddle up, Roughnecks.
New game plan.

Jigsaw Pass, 80
clicks southwest.

It's the main supply artery between Bug
armies on either side of the mountains.

- Sicon's been trying to take it for weeks.
- Air strike?

Not an option. Command wants to use
the pass to move our own troops.

- They won't risk turning it into a rock pile.
- So what's the op, LT?

We follow this path through the range.
It'll dump us into the Bugs' back yard.

Then, clean out
anything that crawls.

- Sector sounds hot, sir.
- Affirmative.

That's why Sicon sent
us a little help.

- Another nose to wipe.
- Not exactly.

- It's a tin can with legs.
- A cybernetic humanoid assault system.

Titanium-reinforced
superstructure...

and the firepower
of an entire squad.

Totally autonomous.

Its primary processor runs on
a bio-enhanced logic matrix.

- How about in English, Goss?
- Its CPU is a learning computer.

Its cognitive skills
are human-like.

Looks like we're out of a job.

- How long's it stay fresh in that can?
- What's it made of, plastic?

Can the chatter! Is it on?

I am fully operational, Lt.
Gene Razak...

serial number JR902441...

decorated for meritorious
service 10 times.

- Brutto, Francis, Sergeant.
- "Francis"?

Don't nobody say a word.
All right, sweetie pie.

- We know who we are.
- Do you have a name?

- Registration number 102261JLP.
- I don't care what it's called.

We all are a bit sceptical about
this piece of hardware...

but it has been assigned to our
squad, and we will deal with it.

Understood, Roughnecks?

Sir, yes, sir!

We move out at 0430. I suggest
you Apes grab some sack time.

In case you've forgotten,
we have a war to win!

Lt. Razak...

I have no need for rest, therefore
I volunteer to stand watch.

A machine programmed to kiss butt.
What will they think of next?

Very well. Pvt. Flores
will relieve you at 0100.

Dismissed.

Roughnecks, take five.

Jenkins, on point
when we move out.

Your decision is ill-advised. My
power supply, motor reflexes...

optical and auditory sensors are
all far superior to any human.

I am not in the habit of having my
orders questioned by anyone or anything.

Now fall back and take
up the rear, soldier.

Not very smart for a computer.

Pvt. Higgins, your lack of training
is impeding the squad's progress.

Thanks for the encouragement.
Why don't you just go on ahead?

I cannot break formation.

You and that junk pile better get it in gear,
or we're leaving you behind as Bug bait!

Yeah, yeah.

Earthquake!

Help!

- It saved my life, Rico.
- Self-preservation.

You would have knocked it off the cliff.
It's a machine, not a Trooper.

Thanks.

I don't know what to say.
How you doing?

I am functioning within
acceptable parameters.

Well, it might be
acceptable to you, but...

the squad seems to think you're running
a little low on social skills.

That does not hinder the
performance of my duties.

You know, a squad is a team.

And if you're not on the team, you're
on your own. Trust me. I know.

First off, you need a name,
not a registration number.

It'll humanize you.

Cybernetic humanoid assault system.
C-H-A-S.

Chas! What do you think?

I have no opinion.

You also have to learn
to talk like an Ape.

You need to start
learning the lingo.

For example, Troopers don't
"retreat," they "beat feet."

Striking one's pedal extremities would
cause injury, making escape impossible.

- Carl, are you okay?
- Bugs!

We're surrounded!

Einstein's fried a fuse.

This time I think the
kid may be right.

- Stay back.
- Good tip.

What kind of Bug is that?

Entomological classification,
Choloeoptera volklorix...

commonly called a
Tophet Blaster Bug.

The insect draws heat
from its surroundings...

to ignite a biochemical reaction in its
prothorax, releasing an energy wave...

Don't mean to break up the
lecture, but we got Bugs at 12:00.

- 6:00, too!
- Time sure flies when you're having fun!

Flores, Gossard, Jenkins,
cover our flank.

Brutto, Doc, take down the
warriors in front! Rico, with me.

Where are you going?

Not bad, for a tin can.

Tougher than an MI drill sergeant, more
poised than the most seasoned vet...

the cybernetic humanoid assault system,
or "Chas" to his squad mates...

is Sicon's Trooper of tomorrow.

So much for truth
in broadcasting.

If I didn't know better, Johnny
Rico, I'd say you were jealous.

He is quite a specimen,
tall, dark and aluminium.

Lieutenant, you better
have a look-see.

Think anybody's home, sir?

Better organize a welcome
wagon, just to be sure.

Lt. Razak, your caution
is unnecessary.

Fleet bombed this
village 33 hours ago...

with a likelihood of enemy
survival at less than 9 percent.

Well, my gut tells me there's
something down there.

But internal organs
cannot speak.

Sorry, wirehead. Instincts
can't be downloaded.

Lt. Razak, there is
no enemy presence.

I volunteer to scout ahead.

Jenkins, you're up.

Carl!

Sniper!

- Shooter's 20?
- Unknown.

Chas, help Carl!
We're pinned down!

- We'll light him up. Get Jenkins!
- Goss, constrictor solvent!

On three. One, two, three!

- You look good in a straightjacket.
- Not my size.

Rule Number 1: Troopers
take care of their own.

I violated no regulations.

Regulations? We're talking
about a Trooper's life!

Pausing to assist
Trooper Jenkins...

would have required an
extra 12.25 seconds.

During any operation, there
are acceptable losses.

You just don't get it, do you? You
never will, because you are a machine.

- He's right!
- I'm with him.

Stand down! Now, you. Finish
the sweep of the village.

That machine is gonna get us all
greased, one way or another.

It was a mistake, sir. He probably
just needs a chance to learn.

If we live long enough for
it to get its diploma.

When we return to base camp...

my recommendation will be that
the cyborg be deactivated.

- But, sir...
- Case closed.

That glorified toaster makes
one more wrong move...

I'm pulling his plug myself.

Alert. Defensive
systems operational.

- Move it! Fire!
- Caldwell's down! Fall back!

Intel says the Bug-to-Trooper ratio in
the pass could be as high as 10-to-1.

Lt. Razak, I will analyse
the situation...

and project an acceptable
casualty rate.

- Acceptable to who?
- Chas, a Trooper is not a statistic.

Losses are never acceptable.

This crack will dump us
smack into Bug central.

Then we secure the area.
Read me, Roughnecks?

So much for technical
superiority.

Enemy alert. Attack
systems armed.

What?

When bringing up the rear,
it is your responsibility...

to be alert to enemy activity.

Jigsaw Pass is just the
other side of this field.

Stop.

My sensors indicate that this is a trap.
We are in danger.

Really? I thought those nice Bugs
just wanted to play patty-cake.

A minefield.

Skinnies have mines?

They must have modified some of
their gas demolition devices.

So we use scanners.

Skinnies aren't big on metal parts.
The mines won't show up.

What about grenades? Set
them off, clear a path.

We set off one, it might
start a chain reaction.

And then, "Boom, boom,
boom!" Good-bye, Troopers.

Think fast. Company's coming.

Freeze, Frankenstein! You're
not going anywhere without us.

- Wait, Rico. He must have a plan.
- Yeah, saving its own iron butt.

Rico, a little help here.

We need an exit plan.

- What's it doing?
- Marking a path through the minefield.

Welcome back.

My olfactory sensors were able
to detect the gas pockets.

I cut a coolant line to create a
trail for the squad to follow.

I suggest we beat feet, sir.

Move out, Apes, but
stay on the path!

Move!

The chain reaction!

Man down!

Do not move!

- I'll get him.
- No. I will.

Chas, can you defuse it?

Negative. The trigger
is pressure sensitive.

Without weight displacement,
the mine will detonate.

- Get out of here, or we're both dead.
- I was never alive.

You're right, Pvt. Higgins.

Some losses are not acceptable.

Go. I will cover your retreat.

I am out of ammunition.

He's drawing them in.

Roughnecks, ho!

- Fall back!
- Go!

All right, Roughnecks, we
still have a job to do.

With the mobile infantry gaining
control of Jigsaw Pass...

the Bug army was split in two.

Officially, Alpha Squad suffered
zero casualties on this op.

But that day, every Roughneck knew
they had lost one of their own.

Ultimately, high command determined
that cyborgs weren't cost effective.

Good thing Troopers come cheap.

Day 83...

the Tophet Campaign.

Most of the time, the day-in,
day-out struggle to stay alive...

created unbreakable
bonds between Troopers.

Most of the time.

I'm telling you, LT, Jenkins
froze up on that ridge.

He's gonna get us all greased.

Do you have a specific
recommendation, Sergeant?

Yes, sir. Section 8. Then
medevac him out ASAP.

Rico.

You can't do that, Lieutenant.
Section 8 labels a guy forever.

- That's the point.
- Jenkins is one of us.

He's a cry-baby. I
know it, you know it.

- Back in formation, both of you.
- Yes, sir.

I hate to say it, Rico, but
Brutto may have a point.

Carl hasn't been the same since
that Brain Bug thing on Hydora.

This is Sgt. F. Brutto,
who, just minutes ago...

took down a Blister Bug
with a single shot.

- Sergeant, could you turn this way?
- Like this?

Skinnies! On the ridge!

Take cover!

Situation report!

Jenkins down, Doc
down, Gossard down!

This is Alpha Team requesting
emergency reinforcements.

I'll take Goss.

No!

This is Rico. Dizzy is down.

Rico, keep moving!

Lieutenant!

Easy, sport. The good
news is, you're whole.

- What's the bad news?
- Look around.

- Where are we?
- The Hotel Skinny.

- Troopers check in, but...
- Skinnies stripped us clean.

Weapons, communicators.

I'm not even sure I'm
wearing undies anymore.

They missed this.

I don't even wanna know
where you were hiding that.

Perfect. When they come back,
I'll grab the biggest skinny...

you file his nails till
he begs for mercy.

Stow the attitude, Sergeant. I wanna
know why we aren't already dead.

What were those explosives
the skinnies tossed at us?

They disable by
concussion, not shrapnel.

Skinnies wanted us breathing.

- I don't think I wanna know why.
- The mind is their master.

The mind is their master, and
the mastermind is coming.

Somebody shut off the hi-fi.
I'm trying to think.

- First time for everything.
- The mind is their...

- I said zip it, Private!
- The mind is their master.

- Back off, Sarge!
- That sounds a lot like an order.

Call it a personal request.

Call that a personal reply.

All right, guys, knock it off.
Hey, come on! Come on!

Break it up!

The enemy's out
there, not in here.

Yes, sir.

Come on. Come on. Hey, nobody's
gonna hurt you, little guy.

- Looks like you're a daddy.
- Definite family resemblance.

- Don't think it's dangerous, do you?
- I'm sure it's harmless.

That's what we said about Higgins, and
look at all the trouble he causes.

Take it easy.

The mastermind is coming.
The mastermind is coming.

Don't touch him!

Come on! I'm just
getting warmed up!

So much for the benefits
of shock therapy.

- Where do you think they're taking him?
- Interrogation.

Get your hands off
me, you freaks.

Looks like that thing's not
going anywhere without you.

If he can get in, we
must be able to get out.

A little narrow, isn't it?

If I cobble our power suit
batteries together...

then apply an
initiating charge...

boom, instant escape hatch.

I need something to
ignite the sequence.

Call him Sparky.

Don't we need our power
suit batteries to live?

Each suit has an hour
of built-in reserve.

- And after that?
- How long can you hold your breath?

Goss.

Do it.

Just you and me, brainiac.

The mind is their master,
and the mastermind is here.

Hello? Is anybody home?

What mastermind?

The mastermind is here.

Come on, kid. We have to
find a way out of here.

If you're expecting
a smooch hello...

forget it.

- We are seeking information.
- Buy a newspaper.

I do not believe that
would be necessary.

All you're getting out of me
is Brutto, Sergeant TP052061.

One zap should start
a chain reaction.

Might buy us a few seconds
when the party starts.

Come on, Sparky. Show time.

Ready here, Rico.

Let me try.

Clear!

Go, go, go!

You are resilient,
but you will weaken.

Think again.

But I am not the thinker. He is.

We climb.

Fire in the hole!

Skinnies closing in.

Most geysers erupt at
predictable intervals.

Up and out. Move!

I find it crude to suck
out a creature's brain.

Crude, but effective.

The mastermind.

- Jenkins.
- Sarge.

- Help me.
- Look at me.

You can fight it. Focus.

Open wide!

We go right.

Skinny detachment,
20 meters that way.

How do you know?

Oh, yeah.

Couldn't we just
take the elevator?

Move it!

- Don't wait for me.
- I'm not gonna.

Now I know how popcorn feels.

- How much time left on our auxiliary?
- In 10 minutes, we're statues.

Saddle up, Apes! We're going
in for Brutto and Jenkins.

Didn't we just get out?

Jackpot. Jenkins!

Maintain radio contact.
Let's move.

- Brutto.
- I missed you too, Goss.

Brutto, Jenkins,
you two all right?

Brain Bug tried to part
our hair permanently.

We dealt with it.

Lieutenant.

I raised a retrieval ship on patrol
just outside the village perimeter.

They're ready for pickup, but
we're redlining our reserves.

Ready, Roughnecks?

Rico!

Say hello to an old friend!

Jenkins, dump the constrictor!

Everybody in!

Plug in to recharge off
the ship's outputs.

Rico, come on!

This piece of techno junk
is running out of juice!

Jenkins, back in the skimmer!

Get out of here, Sparky! Go!

Thanks for the jump start, pal.

I should keep you in
my glove compartment.

I think we'll find you a
quieter home back at HQ.

Maybe we should adopt him. You know,
Rico, and me and Sparky, makes three.

Hey, Sarge, after spending
a little time together...

are you and Jenkins
best buds now?

I'll take that as a "no."

The whole incident was catalogued
as engagement 2124 in the Y sector.

Just another piece in the
puzzle of the Bug War...

leaving only a select few to know
what really happened that day.

Day 89, the Tophet Campaign.

My grandmother used to say:

"If you can't stand the heat,
get out of the kitchen."

That's tough to do when
you're the main course.

Incoming!

- You can set your watch by those things.
- I did.

Thirty-two seconds
between blasts...

each wave better
than 1,000 degrees.

Yeah, but it's a dry heat.

This is Alpha One.

Heat wave is clear, and
the clock is running.

Roger that, Alpha. The
big dog's coming in.

He's coming in. I feel so loved.

Rocking yourself to sleep?

- What do you mean by that?
- Lighten up, dude.

- Dizzy's just messing with you.
- You think I've cracked. Everybody does.

Can you say "psycho"?

You don't eat, don't sleep.

- We're just worried about you.
- Don't be. I can take care of myself.

T minus 15 seconds
until next blast wave.

- Target in range now.
- Firing.

Missile impact in five...

four, three...

It blew up early!

Evasive!

- Big Dog, we have zero kills.
- Copy that, Alpha Team.

But that was the biggest
firecracker on board.

- Talk to me, Goss.
- The blasters' collective body temp...

has formed an intense
heat barrier.

It detonated the missile
before it reached the Bugs.

- Options?
- Residual heat from the Bugs...

radiates out in a
mushroom shape.

Underneath their abdomens, there's
a significant drop in temperature.

Detonate a charge under there,
and it's bye-bye, blasters.

How do we get close enough to plant
a bomb without becoming TV dinners?

Molecular Kevlar shields.

Prototypes, highly reflective.

They're supposed to be
resistant to 1,100 degrees.

- Supposed to be?
- They've never been field-tested.

Why do I have a feeling
that's about to change?

- I need two Troopers for the assault.
- Give me a shield.

Those heat waves are giving
me a rash all over my...

- Sarge, spare me the visual.
- Jenkins.

I'm all over it, LT.

Fine, Rico. Let's move!

Tell me again why
this is a good plan.

The heat turned the sand to glass.
It's as slick as ice.

- Modern art?
- Yeah.

"Ode to a Sicon Skimmer."

Incoming!

Whoa!

My shield's turning to butter!
We gotta pull back!

- We might not get this close again.
- Rico!

Strike!

Yeah!

You're turning into my
kind of Trooper, Rico.

- Short on brains, long on guts.
- Thanks, Sarge. I think.

There's something here.

Your wires are
crossed, brain boy.

Sarge, are you okay?

- Watch out for that first step.
- It could be a bunker.

Colonel T'Phai.

Yours is a weak and pitiful
race, condemned to extinction.

Two hours. Not even name,
rank or serial number.

Sir, high command
on the com link.

Jenkins, Intel wants
you to give it a shot.

Jenkins, Intel wants
you to give it a shot.

Humans, your time is over.

Two voices?

He's not alone in there.

- What's that supposed to mean?
- I could do a workup.

Keep your machines away from me!

Cranium intact,
dura mater clear.

Circumferences... What?

- What's that?
- No! No!

- Looks kind of like a...
- Bug!

Somebody get it off!

Fourth down!

Some kind of mind control Bug?

Did anybody get the license
plate of that Bug?

Bio-weapons will want a live specimen
to study, not a chunk of charcoal.

Last time I checked, this was a
war, not a biology class, Doc.

- No sign, Lieutenant.
- Doc, Brutto, secure the exits.

The rest of you, I want
a room-by-room search.

Shock sticks only,
maximum setting.

What about him?

- You're the baby-sitter.
- Yes, sir.

I'll have him in his
jammies by 8:00.

Always hated hide-and-seek.

Still wanna take
this thing alive?

This is Pvt. R. Higgins. I'm with Col.
T'Phai...

the once-fearsome leader
of the skinny army.

Col. T'Phai, what is it like to
have a Bug living inside your head?

It's full of surprises!

Come out, come out,
wherever you are.

- It's here.
- Is that the good news or the bad?

Over here!

I will have my revenge!

We're in the supply room!
We need backup now!

Carl!

No!

No...

more...

Bugs!

Johnny.

Alpha waves are flat-line,
no motor response.

Nerve synapse
diagnostics negative.

The chase, Doc.

Maybe the specialist on the
med asteroid can do more.

I'm sorry, Rico.

You said you could
take care of yourself.

You've always had a way
with the women, pal.

Take care of him, Carmen.

- He's...
- You can count on it.

I just shipped my best friend off to
a medical asteroid because of you!

- Stand down, Private!
- The Bugs are your enemy, not I.

- Wrong!
- Rico, that's an order.

This isn't over.

I was only attempting
to destroy my enemy.

I am no different than you.

Check the mirror.
You're nothing like me.

My people are slaves, controlled by Bugs.
Our actions are not our own.

I'll be sure to mention that
to all the Trooper widows.

- That's enough, Private.
- Why do Bugs need slaves?

To work in the mines. We
are forced to extract...

the phosphorus substance
we call "zylon."

I've gathered samples
of this stuff nearby.

It's a highly volatile,
bio-fissionable material.

An organic fuel not that different
from what we use in our spacecrafts.

So Tophet is just
a Bug pit stop?

A transport Bug is being
filled with zylon as we speak.

I guess we have
to stop that Bug.

Yesterday, he was
trying to kill us.

And today we're helping
him save his lousy race?

Welcome to the insanity
of war, Sergeant.

These emit
high-intensity X rays...

like the ones that drove
the Bug off T'Phai.

The range is limited.
Five meters.

So you'll have to get
up close and personal.

Sure. We'll explain to the skinnies
that this is for their own good.

And hope that their Bug tenants don't
wanna grease us in the meantime.

There. Land on the backside
to avoid detection.

Now I'm taking orders from him?

Not again.

I hate to say I told you so.

- Do not move, or they will fire.
- I'm not going down without a fight.

Trust me.

You heard him, Sergeant. Freeze.

I'm the jealous type.

- You could've hit me!
- Yes, but I did not.

That weapon doesn't
belong to you.

It might help if you let
us in on your little plan.

There is now a plasma
Bug in the mine.

Not good. One plasma blast
into a zylon deposit...

and you can kiss
this rock good-bye.

Why would Bugs blow up a planet they've
been fighting three months to keep?

Maybe they finally have
what they came for.

Let's move!

Not exactly a Whistle While
You Work kind of place.

- What's wrong with them?
- My race needs sunlight to live.

- Without it...
- You're breaking my heart.

Real love-them-and-leave-them
types.

Transport Bug, high noon.

Plasma Bug at 4:00.

Flores, Rico, take the transport Bug.
Goss, Doc, the plasma.

The rest of us will deal
with the Bugs and skinnies.

What about me?

You stay put. We hit the
dance floor in 30 seconds.

- Understood?
- Sir, yes, sir.

How are we supposed to keep that
thing from lighting this place up?

I have just what the
doctor ordered.

We're only trying to help!

Lt. Razak?

- Higgins!
- Save your breath, Lieutenant.

Behind you!

I was bored.

Train's leaving without us.

Hold on!

Low bridge!

- Any other bright ideas?
- Just one.

Let's go out with a bang!

Plasma Bug's neutralized.

- My people are safe.
- What about ours?

- End of the line!
- Did you have to put it like that?

Jump!

You sure know how to
show a girl a good time.

The battle for Tophet
was winding down.

A few mop-up missions, and the Troopers
would be on their collective way.

We had saved the
troubled planet...

and lost a good friend.