Original subtitles

These are the journals of Darian Lambert, Captain, Fugitive Retrieval

.D.

2193.

While walking through Sausalito, my captain became obsessed with the concept

purchasing a used automobile.

It's a perfect opportunity for me to work on my stick shift driving.

A ten -year -old Lamborghini sports car hardly represents a practical learning

tool, Captain.

In fact, it defies all logic.

What harm is it going to do to go look at it?

What is this? A cream puff?

Slang, indicating as new appearance.

Most likely because the machine is rarely sound enough to drive.

Buy a used car and you buy someone else's trouble.

So how many cliches are you programmed with? The question requires

amplification.

Um, cliches.

When it rains, it pours.

Crazy like a fox.

One false move and you're dead.

Now that's a cliche.

My friend, my wallet is in my back pocket. Shut up, Lambert.

Keep walking toward the water.

Captain Lambert, thank God I found you.

Who are you?

My name is Eve Thorne. I'm a sergeant in fugitive retrieval section.

You're what?

A law enforcement officer from the 22nd century.

I work for you, sir.

It began in the future.

A scientist turning to evil.

A time machine called Trax.

Criminals who vanish.

And along with the mission.

He has one weapon.

And a computer named Selma.

Good morning, Captain Lambert.

With him, he will travel to a time more innocent than his own.

Now, he is among us.

A special breed of man.

A hunter, traveling through our world, searching for fugitives on his own.

Knowing he cannot go home until he has found them all.

His name is Darian Lambert.

And this is his story.

A man comes out of nowhere, tries to shoot me.

You come out of the same nowhere, and you shoot him. Now, I got two mysterious

strangers who both know my name.

I'm not going anywhere till I know a hell of a lot more about who I'm going

and what's going on. Reasonable?

Reasonable.

Okay.

The man I shot was a hired killer named Ivan Mallory.

A hitman, as they call them here.

Hired by who?

Dr. Mordecai Zombie.

Do you have any ID on you, by any chance, Sergeant?

No, sir.

Do you?

It's not exactly standard issue.

45 automatic.

An exact replica of the kind General George S. Patton carried.

He's a historical hero of mine, you might say.

Old blood and guts.

That's him.

You a history buff, too, Captain?

Mainly 19th century. Stop!

Captain Lambert, I would have done the same thing, Captain.

You had to test me. No, no, no, no.

I'm fine.

Nice of her to pass, too.

Yes, Herman, go ahead.

Initial raw data readout. Born Eve, no middle name. Born 29th of November,

Enclave I -9, Western Sector.

Is that a... Specified memory archive ever since the Academy. I heard they

experimental, but I've never seen one. Does it work?

As far as you're concerned, anyhow, you seem to have checked out so far.

I reiterate, Captain, this is raw data.

Readout continues.

Thorn, Eve, Academy appointment 2184, graduated 88, commissioned detective,

junior grade, accepted for advanced training, fugitive retrieval.

It's impossible to counterfeit those records.

Personal data archives can only be amended or deleted by command -level

authorization.

I'm fully aware of that, Captain. My concern is that three years ago, Thorn

drops off the memory bank without another trace of data. It's as if she

to exist.

What about that, Thorn Eve?

Three years ago, my operational status became deep cover.

It's... Standard procedure that personnel files of all officers so

locked off input mode in the master memory banks.

Check it.

Can it check it on the way, Captain?

Did she refer to me as it?

Classic mustache.

Where'd you get it?

From a place in the city called Renta Heap. Told you I was a history buff.

Coming to this time just blows my brain.

Late 20th century slang, I hope. Yeah.

You want to drive, Captain?

Actually, I do need to practice my stick shift.

Not that he needs a reason other than old unsettled business, but why would

Mordecai's zombie order me killed all of a sudden?

It starts with a fugitive named Sidney Cargill that he sent back a few months

ago. He told us zombie was close to acquiring something so valuable and

important that you had to be killed or you might try to stop him.

What is it?

You thought you had trouble believing me up till now, Captain?

Remember your academy history classes?

Dr. Zombie is after the Holy Grail.

About the Holy Grail, all I know about it is it's a cup or a chalice, and

supposedly it was used at the Last Supper?

Yeah, well, there are dozens of versions. I mean, they range from

to pagan symbolism.

It may not even have been a cup, because grail is the ancient word for plate,

kind of a plate.

Anyway, whatever it was, it may have originally been entrusted to a guy named

Joseph of Arimathea.

He traveled to Europe and maybe to Britain.

Anyways, most of the accounts say that he was buried with the grail, but nobody

seems to know where.

Does anybody agree on anything?

Oh, yeah, that some sort of relic does exist.

And our history, 22nd century history...

It tells us that the grail surfaces briefly this year, where is unknown, and

then it disappears again.

So that ought to mean Zombie doesn't get it.

Well, headquarters is afraid of another possibility, that Zombie gets it and

keeps it.

Son of a bitch has that large an ego, all right.

To hoard the most important religious symbol of all time.

What could he possibly do with the grail if he had it?

Sell it for any price he could possibly imagine for one thing. Plus, somebody's

bound to figure a way to use it for power.

Anyway, our orders are to get it first, or if Sami has it already, to get it

away from him.

What about Cargill?

Any details on how Sami intended to find the girl?

Yeah, only a name.

Delacroix. And whoever that is, Sami considered it extremely important to

him. You really are in your element here, aren't you?

Oh, more than you know.

My senior thesis at the academy was on violence.

as political strategy in late 20th century America.

Gunfighters in the 19th century American West used to call a loaded .45.

Six beans in a wheel.

Yeah, I read that. And they called a bullet a blue whistle or a lead plumb.

You don't carry a sidearm?

Yeah.

Standard PPT.

It's miniaturized so as to not attract attention.

Wow.

specified memory, archived, miniaturized PPT. Talk about perks, Captain.

Wreck has its privileges.

So I'll tell you what.

Thorn Eve, since this grail hasn't shown up for 2 ,000 years,

you think it can wait till morning?

Definitely, Captain.

Why don't you sleep in the bedroom and I'll take the sofa?

I've got a better idea. Yes, Sergeant.

Whatever you say, Captain.

You stop calling me Captain, I'll stop calling you Sergeant.

And, uh, I'll sleep.

Mallory! Over here!

Mallory!

You're not even bleeding, Ivan.

Be grateful you wore the protective vest.

What's going on down there?

Oh, just a little night fishing, officer. Somebody on a houseboat

hearing a shot.

You always dress up to go fishing, mister?

Tie off and come up here.

Now.

Just as you wish, officer.

Hold it!

What's that?

Oh, it's a very expensive piece of sonar equipment.

See?

Recuperate quickly, Ivan.

Before I decide I'm a more proficient assassin and sack you.

Delacroix, Ferdinand V .E., French painter, 1799 to 1863.

Selma. Principal work, oil on canvas, women of Algiers.

Incidentally, the correct pronunciation is Delacroix, not Delacroix or

Delacroix.

Thank you, Selma.

Visual mode.

Now, give me all the living Delacroix's.

In the San Francisco area.

There are 46.

39 if you wish me to delete those in a place called Oakland.

Okay. Put a hold on Oakland.

Excluding minors and, for the time being, females, there are 31.

Deleting by occupation, 19. By education, 4.

Uh -huh. What?

Somebody promising?

Simon Delacroix.

59 -year -old bachelor, address on Russian Hill, gallery owner and

book dealer who's dabbled in forgery.

Forgery? Not very good at it, evidently. He also has a prison record.

Good work, Selma.

Voicemail.

Come in.

Roll call in five minutes, sergeant.

I thought you weren't going to pull rain.

We have a lead on the mysterious Mr.

Delacroix. Five minutes or get left behind.

I need three minutes, sir.

Eve is an apt name for her.

Well, Mr. Delacroix is either very disorganized or someone got here before

And if it was Sombie, how would we ever know if he found the grail and all this

junk?

Selma, word search mode, please.

For the grail or last supper.

What is the guy's name, the keeper of the grail?

Joseph of Arimathea.

You got that, Selma?

It's got an activator, Captain.

Captain Lambert, over here.

Simon Delacroix.

It's not a robbery. Money's in his bill phone.

Two holes, base of the skull, probably small caliber bullets.

It's been dead 24 hours, maybe more.

22 caliber hollow point slugs, back of the neck.

Definitely 20th century hitman signature.

Ivan Mallory.

That's my first guess.

It was a .22 Ruger automatic he stuck in your back last night.

Well, you deserve a medal for taking him out of circulation.

Captain Lambert, my scan reveals search words regularly occur in connection with

Mr. Delacroix's efforts to locate an ancient book, the Fay Camp volume.

Some amplification, please.

A book written by a 12th century monk of Fay Camp in medieval France, almost as

sought after as the relic itself. The reason being the text fixes the location

of the grave of Joseph of Arimathea. Right. Remember?

He was supposedly buried with the grail. Captain Lambert.

kindly explain that I am more effective without interruption.

Well, why don't I leave you two alone for a little while?

There was a donut queen across the street and you got us out before

Who did you say was across the street?

Never mind.

I'll just get some coffee and meet you in the car.

Visual mode, Selma.

The weight of scholarly opinion indicates the fake hand volume is

finding the grail. Fine.

You're programmed with every book that's ever been written.

The Fecamp volume was produced by hand in the 12th century. I can only

printed material dating from Gutenberg, 1455.

Do you think Delacroix had the book?

Correspondence indicates Mr. Delacroix was obsessed for years with finding the

book and the grail, but without success.

Someone scan his source material.

Numerous libraries in the Vatican, Madrid, Cairo, and, of course,

references.

This is most interesting.

Brother Pio in Carmel.

Delacroix discovered Pio was one of the world's foremost authorities on the

Grail, wouldn't leave him alone.

Selma scanned dozens of his letters, asking this brother Pio to help him find

the fake comp volume.

Pio consistently denied that he had any special knowledge.

So why are we going to see him?

Because in his last letter to Delacroix, Pio told him that he wouldn't find the

book in England in some place called Castle Corbenic.

I don't get it.

Delacroix never asked Pio about Castle Corbenic.

In fact, someone says Pio is the only one to ever mention this place in

connection with the Grail legend.

We're being followed.

That half -mile -back blue sedan.

This is a public highway. What makes you think we're being followed?

They picked us up when we got off the freeways, keeping the same distance.

Watch this.

I told you to keep your distance.

He was trying to lose me. Lose you how?

Do you see any turn -offs?

There's an art to trailing someone.

You are an artless oaf.

Sorry about that.

Glad I'm alive to accept your apology. Anyone need an ambulance down there?

The only thing I heard was my pride.

You're lucky you stopped before you went over the bluff.

License and registration, please.

Oh, rental papers are in the club compartment.

You didn't happen to notice a blue sedan up on the highway, did you?

It pulled away at high speed when I drove up.

If it weren't for you, I would have pursued it.

Is there a place in Carmel we could get the repairs done, officer?

Yes, ma 'am. I'll radio for a tow just as soon as I get this information down.

You rented this car in San Francisco three months ago. Is that right?

Yes.

I think it was on me.

Has to be.

I don't know who's chasing who.

Mr. Delacroix was murdered, you say?

May his soul rest in peace.

But he was a greedy man who sought to profit from the grail.

I'm tempted to believe divine justice took a hand.

Brother Pio, if Mr. Delacroix had been a more honest man, would you have

possibly been more helpful?

You wish to know if I am capable of a lie.

If the blessed relic does exist, they should fall into unworthy hands.

Is that not a greater evil?

What can you tell me about Castle Corbenic?

Castle Corbenic? No longer exists.

It was a place in Roman Britain near Gledon.

The grave of Joseph of Arimathea was once thought to be there.

It is not.

Ah, it's at the Angelus. I must be in chapel.

Brother, can we talk to you later?

If you wish.

Perhaps you and Miss Thorn would accept the hospitality of our poor community

and stay the night.

We'd be very grateful, Brother Pyle. Yes, thank you.

Forgive an old man, Mr.

Lambert, but your interest in the grail is not, I believe, a scholarly one.

You and Miss Thorne are police, is this so?

Yes, it is.

We're after a very dangerous man named Mordecai Zombie.

We believe he murdered Simon Delacroix while attempting to steal information

from him.

This man wants the grail for profit and very likely for power.

We want to arrest him for many crimes that he's committed over a long period

time. Then I wish you success.

I'm sorry that beyond prayer, there is no way I can help you.

Brother Pyle, believe me when I tell you this man, Sombie, is brilliant and

resourceful.

If the Grail exists,

if it's anywhere near here,

He will find it.

Your appeal is both heartfelt and sincere, but I am powerless.

I'm not.

If you truly wish to keep the Grail safe, then put me between it and the man

would defile it.

This is the work of a holy monk of Glastonbury.

A Benedictine just as I am, who set down the factual source for all legends.

But most important, he provided the key.

The key, what's that?

A series of conditions which will apply wherever the grail is found.

A castle on the seashore.

A dead body on a bier.

Unknown, but mourned with solemn right.

What about Joseph of Arimathea's grave? Does the book really tell where it is?

The book confirms that Joseph died and was buried at Castle Corbenic.

I carelessly mentioned the castle in response to one of Mr.

Delacroix's inquiries. But no harm was done, and the castle has long since

disappeared.

What about the grail?

Disappeared with it.

That's it?

The famous fake camp is nothing but an out -of -date guidebook?

Alas, and that is why I can assure you there is no cause to worry.

It is not possible to find the grail.

Are you light somewhere?

I'm getting seasick.

I am simply replicating your method of thinking in order to decide upon a

of action.

Our brother Pio knows where the Grail is located.

I figured as much, but something's preventing him from completely trusting

It may have to do with the fact that he believes that his superior outranks

yours.

Unbelievable. A computer who walks the floor like a neurotic and admits to a

higher power.

I merely input all possibilities, synthesize all belief structures, and

moral questions.

Well, that's exactly what God would do if he had an internal hard drive.

What about the Grail? Can you find it?

Without a doubt. But I will require a few hours to formulate some programs.

A few hours?

To do something these 20th century steam engine computers couldn't do in a week,

even if they had the software.

Selma, what's going on?

I have Eve Thorn on my movement sensor, approaching with stealth, moving one

step at a time, pausing, obviously taking pains to remain unobserved.

How do you know it's not Mother Pio or one of his monks?

Because none of them wear Chanel No.

5.

I counsel extreme caution, Captain.

some kind of church or something.

We could stop if we hear thunder.

Never mind. I know you're right.

Damn it.

Rain check.

That's the word, isn't it?

Rain check.

You would have made a great frontier marshal.

Tall in the saddle and straight as an arrow.

I must say you're a superbly conditioned individual, Captain Lambert.

A green pellet normally incapacitates for upwards of three hours.

You've barely been under for two.

Lucky for me, you had no place to hide your fancy pistol last night, Eve.

I'd be full of beans.

While we fetch the old man, we'll meet in the refactoring.

I hate this Montahari act.

I told Tom it would never be totally convincing.

There were a few things that bothered me.

The indestructible Ivan Mallory, for one.

No professional hitman says, stick him up, let's take a walk. He pulls the

trigger.

Well, that was my fault.

I was a few seconds late getting onto the dock and Mallory had to stall.

He didn't like me very much.

45 slug in the back hurts even under a bulletproof layer of Kevlar.

Selma noticed the extra month in your car rental papers.

She would.

And I couldn't help but notice that you referred to Simon Delacroix in the past

tense.

That was before we found the body.

Well, that would be useless killing.

Mallory is vicious and stupid, a danger of combination.

Your finest moment, though, was last night.

When you offered yourself to me as a distraction.

Touché.

Move.

did you hook up with somebody?

Almost two years ago.

I really was in law enforcement. That wasn't a lie.

And I was on a deep cover assignment.

That's when things went wrong.

What happened?

We had been tracking a major drug network for almost a year and couldn't

the head guy.

Seven indictments and seven acquittals.

My job was to infiltrate his operation, gather enough evidence to put him away,

and roll up the network once and for all.

Undercover infiltration is the toughest duty there is.

You have to be patient, and you have to have luck.

I know.

I read your training manual on the subject.

But I don't think you'd give me a passing grade.

In no time at all, I realized it was going to take more than luck to get at

guy.

Then I found out he had a weakness for females.

Once I got close enough and saw firsthand the

things this man was capable of,

Guess you could say I exceeded my authority as an officer of the law.

Haven't you figured out yet what I'm telling you?

I don't know why I didn't remember this.

Diomedio Marcos.

Pacific Rim drug trafficker. Six months before I left.

Mysteriously assassinated by a person or persons unknown.

You.

Me. Unfortunately known to all the wrong people, the Marcos Syndicate put a

worldwide contract on me.

And to the department, I was nothing more than a rogue cop who killed without

authorization, even though they still kept me on the books as undercover.

That's when you heard about the Mordecai zombie travel agents.

I had no idea why he agreed to send me. I guess he thought that having a cop,

even a bad one, in his pocket...

It would work to his advantage.

And as it turned out, he was right.

He showed up and used what he knew about me as a threat.

What threat?

If I didn't help trick you into finding the grail for him, he would send me back

to be killed.

Leave Brother Pyle out of this, Sondra. You've got me. You don't need him.

That's what I've been counting on.

Captain Lambert, your indomitable rectitude, your admirable sense of fair

and your proven ability as the best tracker in the world.

Who better to find the Holy Grail for me than a modern -day Lancelot? The Grail

will not be found.

Brother Pio, it's far too complicated to explain at the moment. But Captain

Lambert and I have the benefit of a strange sort of hindsight.

The fact is the Grail will appear, and soon.

I'm afraid it's true.

I must die before I allow the holy relic to be desecrated.

Desecrated? Father Pyle, I'm a scientist, an archaeologist.

My aim is to preserve the grave. And you need a hired killer to assist you in

your great mission?

Ivan has his uses.

He will, for instance, cheerfully kill you, if need be, to ensure that Captain

Lambert cooperates and finds the grail for me.

He will find it...

with the aid of a sophisticated computer at his disposal.

How do you carry that computer?

Wristwatch? Dental implant?

Credit card.

In my wallet.

Not now!

You put your hands on Brother Pio or me again, handcuffs or not, I swear I'll...

A little restraint, gentlemen, please. We need each other.

For one thing, the computer's undoubtedly designed to respond only to

Lambert.

May I?

Selma, do you know the location of the Grail?

Selma, respond.

80 miles south.

Along the ocean.

Accessible by automobile.

Ah, those directions seem to have Brother Pyle's corroboration.

Shall we be on our way?

Cuff him to the wheel.

Left hand.

Just in case you decide to bail out.

Zombie lied to you.

What?

Zombie can't send anybody back.

He doesn't have the technology.

Would you send me back?

It's my job.

I can't go back, Darian.

Whatever happens, don't make me force the issue, okay?

Selma, we're at 79 miles. Where are we going?

A most amazing man, William Randolph Hearst.

Hearst. Of course, we're at San Simeon. Hearst inherited a mining fortune, made

another as a publisher, then spent it on a 50 -year spree of collecting.

Paintings, statues, furnishings, entire rooms, whole buildings.

He'd buy them and have them taken apart stone by stone, crated up and shipped

here to San Simeon. Many were never opened or even inventored.

Some of you are saying that...

The grail could be one of the artifacts that Hearst bought? I'm telling you that

here in a warehouse packed into a dismantled abbey once part of Castle

Hearst collected the greatest prize of all time and never knew it.

Brother Pyle, would it be acceptable?

If 200 years from now, the Grail were safe and in your possession.

Who are you, Captain Lambert?

Are you a prophet, a messiah?

I'm a man of the future, brother. And believe me when I tell you that I know

Grail is about to be unearthed.

A symbol that powerful in your hands could be of great use in my world.

Perhaps in the Middle East. Middle East.

In this day, it's a place of strife, of warring factions.

What is it like in your future?

The same, I'm afraid.

But if you were to take the Grail there, perhaps you could make it a better

world. What must I do?

Trust me.

Do exactly as I say.

There is a single watchman. Use a blade.

You shouldn't have any trouble.

Most fascinating, this quest of ours.

The elements of the key apply just as the Fecamp sets them out. Think of it.

A castle on the seashore, courtesy of Mr. Hurst. The dead body, yours, I'm

afraid. Though I can't promise much ritual.

And then finally...

The key speaks of a desolate land restored by the finder of the grail.

Well, I will return someday and plant a little tree in your name.

Shall we go?

Come on. It's okay.

who wears a monk's robes develops a fascination with pockets.

It is there.

Only one person of small size can get to the altarpiece.

It must be me.

Brother Pio will go.

I'm up.

Remember what I told you.

When you arrive, you'll be dazed and shaken up, but it's important to know.

Who to ask for and what to say. I shall not forget, Captain.

Careful, brother.

Keep your eyes on Captain Lambert.

Transmit now!

Eve, you can square it back there.

I'll report that you helped me. Brother Pyle will back it up.

You mean to send me back with a note pinned to my chest?

This isn't our world.

We don't belong here.

Not really.

But you're staying.

So am I.

I want to help you.

Look, I go back, I'm dead.

We both know that.

Staying here, I know there's at least one person I'll be glad to see again one

of these days.

Maybe he'll be glad to see me too.

Maybe.

There was that unfinished business we discussed last night.

Unfinished business.

How romantic you are, Captain.

Well, that's something we can look forward to.

Eve, if I let you go, no matter where you go, I can always find you.

Remember that.

Remember it?

I'm counting on it.

Oh, what the hell?

Profanity is unproductive, Captain.

Somebody took the distributor with him.

How does escape plan right from the start? I concur.

So what now?

Carl won't run without a distributor.

I have the ability to function as a distributor.

Oh, really? What are you going to do? You're going to ride under the hood?

Certainly not. I merely interface with the ignition system.

My process is immaterial to you.

We should leave now. I've calculated the range of Sambi's aircraft. Most likely

he'll make a landing in Los Angeles.

Los Angeles.

You probably went back to San Francisco.

My analysis of our priorities indicates the pursuit of Dr. Thambi should be

undertaken without delay.

I agree.

Los Angeles it is.

I think you will also agree that the treachery of the female imposter was

evident long before you admitted it. Wonderful.

Wonderful. My own personal electronic, I told you so.

Description does not compute.

Do you... know how to get to los angeles captain i've got a fair idea there's

only one road and it's not back in the direction we came from i merely wish to

provide navigational guidance no no what you wish to do is be a backseat driver

description does not compute cliches selma you're and i told you so in a

backseat driver very impressive

but can you make it go as fast as a mustang no That car

was dangerous.

Yeah.

So was the girl.