Original subtitles

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

.D. 2193.

It began as a routine comparative analysis.

But after noting that five finishes of major races at an Australian racetrack

were different than the results in my database, I persuaded my captain that

these inconsistencies could indicate tampering by a futurist.

My captain was not entirely enthused.

Selma, I can't believe I let you talk me into this.

I'm halfway around the world on a whim.

Memory archives can have neither ideas nor whims, Captain, only data, and data

does not lie.

What about computer error?

Once, perhaps, but five times, that is statistically improbable in a magnitude

of 10 to the 23rd power.

But it is possible.

I would call it compelling.

Look, mate, you're going to talk to yourself all day or pay your fee. Oh,

sorry. You want to bet Prince Regal you've only got ten minutes?

Prince Regal?

The Prince Regal? The Australian Horse of the Year?

Do you know something I don't?

Just getting a little ahead of myself, Dan.

Imagine the opportunity to get to see Prince Regal run.

I knew you would understand.

Captain, to use the information in my database for personal gain is highly

unethical. Well, like somebody had nothing to do with it.

Every schoolboy knows the story of the legendary Prince Regal.

The only horse to go undefeated in 50 races.

Besides, I didn't buy a ticket, I bought a memory.

Prince Regal, to win.

I'm ready to cash it.

There's choice, and Hurricane Hayes came out quickly.

King's rule began well with Annabelle and Charger, then Romper and Silent Song

going forward along the rail in front of Gold Penny, Black and White, and Blue

Way. French Regal is the leader as they round the corner into the stretch.

There's choice there's second. Hurricane Hayes third.

French Regal is doing it easily.

He's clear of King's rule, Annabelle, and further out is Silent Song.

French Regal in front, but here comes Silent Song.

Silent Song's out.

Prince Regal joined by Silent Song who raced to the lead. Silent Song racing

away to Prince Regal and wins easily.

Silent Song first, Prince Regal second, Dazzle third.

Someone.

This can't be right. Prince Regal never lost a race.

This would appear to be the sixth historical inconsistency of the Gold

Turf Club.

You made a believer out of me.

Tell him we've got a case.

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.

Since the Magic Millions Derby was only days away, every hotel was booked to

overflowing. We decided to rent a houseboat on the Broadwater.

Look at this city, Sala.

It's still alive.

Yes, Captain.

In the early 21st century, Australia was one of the emerging powers and the

Queensland Gold Coast was on the cutting edge.

It's easy to see how this became the Venice of the Pacific Rim.

Visual mode.

Where would you care to begin?

First, I want to know more about this horse that beat Prince Regal. His name

Silent Song. He is five years old.

Hmm. Hmm?

What does hmm mean?

He appears to have had a sex change.

You're kidding, right?

No. My database clearly states he is a maiden.

Selma, in horse racing, a maiden is a horse that hasn't won yet.

Well, in that case, he is no longer a maiden. But prior to his win against

Prince Regal, he had finished no better than fifth.

Well, that explains how he went off at 100 to 1.

Who's the owner?

Like all five previous winners, which were contrary to my historical database,

this horse was recently purchased by Burning Tree Stable and trained by

Catherine Vickers.

Well, that's where we start. What do we have on Catherine Vickers?

Scanning.

I find no record of a trainer by that name in 1993.

Well, Selma, you're going to have to get me some credentials. I think we should

take a closer look at this silent song.

What would you like to be?

Well, something that'll get me into a racetrack without arousing suspicion.

You are most athletic.

Perhaps a jockey.

Selma, in this century, jockeys are five foot tall and a hundred pounds.

All of them? Really?

That's strange.

Then may I suggest an investigatory role?

Fine.

I'm telling you, Mr Quinn, horses with records like Silent Song don't win

races. Maybe not for you, but they do for me.

I've been very fortunate.

Six stakes winners in a row, never the same horse twice.

That's more than fortunate.

It's unheard of.

If it's not a fluke, why won't you run them more than once?

Because the real money's in breeding. There's no point in taking chances.

All my winners are standing studded, burning tree.

The racing secretary tells me you're about to run another in the derby

Can't admit.

Bought him an auction down in Sydney.

Auction? For what? The glue factory.

The derby's a class race.

A mile and a half.

Admittedly, he hasn't won before, but my trainer thinks he'll go the distance.

Your trainer?

Your trainer's a woman.

No worries. She gets more out of a horse than most men.

She ought to be at home minding a couple of kids instead of doing a man's job.

Waste of talent.

Winning's the bottom line. She does it better than most.

Maybe she's found a way to give the horse some kind of edge.

I'll pretend I didn't hear that remark.

You're just angry because you can't bear to see a woman succeed.

Don't mistake luck for talent.

I'll wager she doesn't know which end of the horse eats the oats.

Perhaps you should ask her.

Thanks, Gus.

Walk him out and cool him down.

Then give him a rub down and an extra scoop of oats.

Maybe that'll help to bring him round.

I'll see you at the barn.

Thanks, Kate.

You know Mr Miller?

President of Gold Coast Jockey Club. Yes, but I don't think we've officially

met. True.

Where was it you came from?

Perth.

Ah, yes.

A westerner.

I understand.

Silent Song's still here.

Yes, sir. I've been meaning to talk to you about that.

There's nothing to discuss. I want him shipped to Burning Tree this afternoon.

want you to concentrate on Cardiff Mint for the derby. Cardiff Mint isn't ready.

With you training him, I have every confidence he will be.

But after what Silent Song did in the last stakes race, I really think he'd be

the better choice.

You always speak your mind, and I like that, but my mind's made up.

Cardiff Mint goes in the derby, and that's that.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have business to discuss with Mr Miller.

You know what I mean? You give a woman a shank, she takes the whole iron

quarter.

You've got to be firm.

Visual mode.

Let me just take a look at you, okay?

I sense you were doing a slang phrase, Wilbur.

What?

A Wilbur.

And you expect the animal to do a slang phrase, Mr. Ed. Is that not correct?

Selma, I have no idea what you're talking about.

In pre -wallscreen television, there was a series about a talking horse named

Edward and his human friend, Wilbur.

In some circles, they are considered classics.

Would you like me to project one?

No.

As you wish.

But please remember that one picture is worth a thousand words.

Thank you, Summer, but what I really need is a physical readout of his

condition.

Preliminary diagnosis indicates that all bodily systems are normal.

Well, to beat Prince Regal, they had to do something to this horse.

With the exception of his heart rate. Heart rate.

Clarify. It is half of normal.

Normal for what?

For horses of this time. You're telling me that Zombie has managed to ten -port

a horse?

Not logical.

Selma.

What are you doing?

You in the stall?

And whoever you're talking to.

I've got a gun and I know how to use it.

Step away from the horse and come out with your hands where I can see them.

Hi.

I heard you talking. I want you both out here now.

Sorry, there's nobody else.

Gus, can you check it out?

Yeah, I'll do it.

Before you do anything rash, I think you should look at my credentials. They're

right here in my jacket.

Show them to me.

Darian Lind, Special Investigator, International Thoroughbred Racing

Association.

What were you doing in my barn?

Looking for answers.

Nobody near but silent song.

Thank you, Gus.

Would you saddle him for me? I'd like to ride him over to Mr. Quinn before he

leaves. But I thought Mr. Quinn wanted him shipped up to Burning Tree.

He does, unless I can make him change his mind.

Okay.

So, Mr. Lind, are you here on behalf of Mr. Miller? No.

Strictly an independent investigation.

What kind of answers are you looking for?

Like how a horse with Silent Song's record could beat a champion like Prince

Regal?

Figure out the answers of that and you'll make millions.

That's horse racing, Mr. Link.

Come on.

Your horse couldn't beat Prince Regal on his worst day.

Sounds like you had a bet on it.

Or maybe you're upset because he was trained by a woman.

What difference would that make?

Oh, really, Mr. Link. Down here, women don't train racehorses, let alone

winners. That's a man's job.

Isn't that why you were here?

They wanted someone to discredit my horse to discredit me.

No. No, I told you I was just doing my job.

Then you better listen.

My horse won straight up.

Passed all the post -race tests without a question.

So why don't you go to the ITRA and tell them to go climb a rock?

I've got work to do.

What is it, Selma?

Captain, she may be in danger.

What do you mean, in danger?

Further diagnosis indicates that Silent Song's heartbeat has become extremely

rapid. He could be on the verge of a severe myocardial infarction.

Kate? Kate, wait, wait. I'm not so sure that's a good idea.

Make it fast, Selma. Everybody's watching.

I'm sorry.

Why don't you take her somewhere where she can be alone?

I'll wait here for the track that night.

Come on, Kate.

I'll help you back to your office.

No.

What did you do to him?

To whom?

You were in the stall. He was all right this morning. What did you do in there?

Nothing.

I just heard.

How?

I don't know.

He seemed fine.

I was just going to ride him over to meet you when he collapsed.

Ride him? I don't understand.

You were going to ship him to Burning Tree this afternoon.

Yes, I know, but I thought, winning the way he did, if I could just show you a

workout, you might let me race him again.

It was my mistake.

Yes, you're right. It was a very unfortunate error of judgment.

Will you excuse me? I'd better go and speak to the vet.

You the owner? That's right. Who are you?

Darian Lynn.

The ITRA?

Randall Quinn.

What have the ITRA got to do with this?

Any time a horse wins under unusual circumstances, we're obligated to look

it. In the public's interest and for racing.

Of course.

Oh, it's such a shame.

He just ran the best race of his life, his first win, a major stakes.

We were going to put him out to start. He was an incredible animal.

Yes. Would it be possible for me to get a videotape of his last race?

Oh, no worries. Ask Kate. I'm sure she can do it.

I appreciate your efforts, but short of an autopsy, there isn't much anyone can

do now.

They're saying a full medical check -up will probably take a week.

Very well. Keep me posted. And from now on, please do as I ask.

God admit, it goes in the derby as we planned.

Do you understand?

Yes, Mr. Quinn.

I really am very sorry about Silent Song.

Mr. Quinn said that you could help me get a videotape of his last race.

Oh, with all that's happened, it mightn't be right away.

Oh, I know, I know.

Just, I'd appreciate it whenever you could do it.

I've rented a houseboat for the week.

It's birth 67.

We're tied off down near the seaplane office off Marina Mirage.

Why?

It's just an expression.

No promises, but I'll see what I can do.

Thank you.

Now you'll have to excuse me.

You here?

Darling Song is dead.

What happened?

I don't know.

He was fine, then he just went wild and died on the spot.

You were talking with another man?

Oh, some investigator from the IPRA named Lynn.

I caught him snooping around Silent Zone just before it happened.

What do you mean, snooping?

Oh, he said something about a routine investigation after a horse like Prince

Regal is upset.

Sounds like a lie.

Did you look at his credentials?

Yes, they all seemed in order.

He's staying in a houseboat, berth 67 off Marina Mirage.

Something's not right.

What are you going to tell me?

Check him out.

Which one is it?

Over -dependence upon your Selma is not encouraged.

Sub -rule nine of the user's manual. Selma, spare me this sub -rule. So

going to find the car, or am I going to have to try them all?

Do I sense a hostile tone?

Selma, the car.

Fourth row, six from the left.

Thank you.

You are welcome.

Is there anything else?

Check your database for a file on a fugitive.

Name is Catherine Vickers.

Regrettably, no such file exists, Captain.

She's probably using an alias. We're going to have to get a positive ID

Tell me about the horse.

Autopsies on large, non -speaking animals are an inexact science at best.

Just give me the cause of death.

A curious conundrum.

According to my database, Silent Song was five years old, and my initial scan

showed his heart was strong.

You said his heart rate was half of normal.

That is correct, but my second scan indicates that the cause of death was

his heart exploding.

Exploding?

What could cause that?

An excellent question.

Perhaps if you had not responded to that woman's revolver, we would know the

answer.

Look, when someone points a loaded gun at my head, it tends to get my

Which reminds me, how could you just disappear without warning me that

with a futuristic heart rate was in the immediate area?

Captain, I did not detect such a heartbeat.

Well, you must be slipping, so you better get your circuits rechecked. I am

programmed to self -test every 72 hours. My circuits are fine.

Then you better do a control check on my heart rate.

I regret to inform you that your heart rate is now 55 beats per minute and has

been for some time.

55 beats? You're crazy.

Insanity is not applicable to memory archives.

Visual mode.

My heart rate can't be 55 beats per minute. It has always been 35 beats.

Acclimation.

Every living organism adapts to new environments over time. You are no

exception. Well, that means we won't be able to rely on cardiac readouts to

identify suspects anymore.

That is correct.

Next thing you're going to be telling me is I won't be able to run the mile in

under four minutes.

Only if you stop training.

Voice mode.

What was that?

I believe it is called a roundabout.

Just like in England, everybody around here drives like they're crazy because

the steering wheel is on the wrong side of the car.

You mean the right side.

The wrong side.

Right is wrong.

A most curious concept.

Looks like we have a visitor, Selma.

I know. I've seen that face.

Without some identifying element, it is most difficult to be of service,

Captain.

The door. He was trying to break in. Why don't you check for prints?

Regrettably, all prints are smudged.

Wait a minute. The swinging door.

Check for a palm print.

Scanning.

I have a positive ID.

Subject name, Rufio Youngs.

A few yarns. That sounds familiar.

Give me your profile.

Born 2149.

Occupation, coach and physical trainer to the World Olympic Congress, 2179 to

2188. Leading advocate of the laser -enhanced cardiac trauma replicator,

commonly known as a lector.

That's right. I remember his picture now.

And this lector, wasn't it some alternative for steroids?

Correct. It expands lung capacity while simultaneously accelerating the heart

rate. Administered by laser, it is medically undetectable.

But didn't someone die?

During the 2188 Olympics, the winner of the second heat of the 100 -meter dash

succumbed to total cardiovascular disintegration.

Jans was accused of injecting him twice by a lector just prior to the race.

Indicted but never arrested, Jans remains at large.

So he travels back to 1993.

Brings his lector with him.

This time it's not amateur athletics.

He's going for the big money.

Horse racing.

Perhaps he's in league with Catherine.

I must vanish again, Captain.

Go for a swim?

Yeah. One of the great features of living on the water. You get to dive in

whenever you feel the urge.

I don't think I've ever had one.

An urge, I mean, to dive in with all my clothes on.

Oh, you ought to try it sometime.

You wanted the tape or the video of Silent Songs last race?

Thanks.

You want to come in for some coffee, tea, something?

No, thanks.

I really can't stay. I just happened to be coming this way and I thought I'd

drop it off.

I'd better be going back to the track.

Well, maybe I'll see you out there.

Maybe.

Listen, I'm afraid I owe you an apology for this morning.

I'm usually not so rude. It's just that finding you in the stall and then...

Silent song.

I understand.

And I'm really sorry about what happened.

If there's anything I can do.

No, nothing.

It was just such a shock.

I'll be alright.

Thanks again for trying to help.

I better be going.

Bye.

Okay, so this is the spot where it happened.

Let's run it again.

Where would you like it projected?

Well, on the windshield will be fine.

Okay.

I think I'm around the turn.

Into the stretch.

Shall I recompose the image?

Right. Isolate and push in on silent song.

Right there. Stop.

Analysis.

There is a discernible laser incision in the animal's front left shoulder just

above the heart.

Laser incision.

The mark of a lector.

It has to be Jans.

Lector use requires an unobstructed field of view. Anyone using such an

instrument would be obvious to all around him.

Rejection off.

It had to be the grandstand.

But there were thousands of people in the stands on the day of the race. We

among them.

Unless he fired from the roof.

Talking to yourself again.

Old habits die hard.

What are you doing here?

I live here, remember?

Don't tell me you're still working. The last race was over hours ago.

No, just trying to think things out.

I do my best thinking on horseback.

What are you thinking about doing for dinner?

I've got a couple of steaks in the fridge at the stable. Care to join me?

I'll tell you what.

Why don't you bring them out to the boat? They've got this great antique

device that I've been dying to use.

Searing device?

Yeah, yeah, it's a cooker.

You mean a barbie?

A what?

You yank say the strangest things.

All right.

As soon as I bed down my horses, I'll meet you there.

But I'm warning you, with the derby tomorrow, I can't stay late.

Excuse me, Captain, but

did you not ask me to see if there was a warrant outstanding for this woman's

retrieval? That's right, I did.

Then is it not dangerous to agree to have dinner with her?

Exactly what I intend to find out.

So, this is a Barbie.

I thought you said it was an antique. It looks brand new.

Well, actually, I was talking about the design.

So, tell me about yourself. You from around here?

A ranch in the outback.

My father was a foreman.

He's the one who really taught me how to get the most out of a Rachel. Ah.

So I guess that's what made you decide to become a trainer.

Right.

I started as a groom to Liam Ward.

One day, Randall Quinn and his partner just sort of showed up.

Ward sold them their first horse, a quitter called Going Dancing.

When they asked him to suggest a trainer as a joke, he told them to hire me.

He was shocked when they made me the offer.

Obviously, it paid off.

I suppose.

But the truth is, even if I won the derby, the boys around here would still

think it was a fluke.

So tell me, are you going to win the derby?

With Cardiff Mint?

Not much of a chance there, I'm afraid.

He's a good enough horse, but that's not good enough when it comes to the derby,

if you know what I mean.

You need class and breeding.

So, uh, suppose he wins.

What then?

Quinn retires and stands down a burning tree like all the rest.

Except for Simon Song.

You mean once they win, none of these horses ever race again?

That's right.

The real money's in the breeding.

Which is not to say that Quinn and his partner don't make a tidy profit at the

track.

What is that? What do you mean?

Whenever we've got a horse running, they always better bundle.

A horse goes up to 50 or 100 to one, you can really make a killing.

A killing?

After Silent Song won, Mr. Quinn showed me the tickets.

He and his partner won nearly half a million dollars on that one razor line.

Well, I've met Mr.

Quinn, but I don't know his partner.

Mr. Yarns.

Mr. Yarns.

He spends most of his time up at Burning Tree.

Have you seen him out there before?

I've never been.

Too much to do right here.

Well, maybe I'll just stop by and introduce myself sometime.

To fast horses.

To smart women.

I'll drink to that.

You probably think I'm a clink after all this, don't you?

A what?

A clink. You know, the expression from back home.

I swear I haven't got a clue.

Good.

Good. Good one.

A hundred miles of back road, three detours. Gives you the feeling they

want any company.

Scanning.

I find no human life forms within the compound, Captain.

Leon's isn't here. Nor is anyone else.

Probably all in town at the Derby.

Let's have a little look around.

Before proceeding, Captain, I must warn you there is live electric current

running through all of the perimeter fences.

Selma, convert polarity.

Thank you, Selma.

Selma, I thought you said you didn't pick up any life force.

I said there were no human life force.

I'm stuck.

There are only dogs.

Well, I'm breakfast, unless I can get out my PBT.

Breakfast? You are not breakfast.

Tell that to them!

He is not breakfast.

Now go!

Someone, that was incredible.

Very good. Very good!

I thought you were programmed not to appear in the presence of others.

Dogs do not count.

Right, I'll remember that.

Okay, let's take a look around.

Empty.

I just don't get it. According to Kate Vickers, there's supposed to be five

horses standing stud out here. Now, where the hell could they be?

Perhaps they've been returned to the racetrack, Captain.

It doesn't make any sense.

Visual mode, sir.

Try scanning the pasture.

Primarily grass and dirt, Captain.

One moment.

I sense animal remains underground.

Five large quadrupeds.

Quadrupeds.

Are you telling me that all the horses from Burning Tree are dead and buried in

this pasture?

That would appear to be the case, Captain.

They killed all those horses to win a few races?

Following that logic, another fatality could occur in approximately 53 minutes.

Post time for the Magic Millions Derby is 2 p .m.

So we're making it time.

Great day for a race, isn't it, Gus?

Yes, sir, Mr. Quinn.

Cardiff men's looking fit and ready. Dan, there's a quarter crack in his left

rear hoof.

I think we're going to have to scratch him from the race.

Nonsense.

You have the blacksmith. Take a look at him.

I don't need a blacksmith. He can't run on that hoof.

That's not your decision.

Gus.

You just can't do this.

I own the horse. I can do whatever I want.

When you own a horse, then you can do whatever you want.

All right, I'll buy him from you.

Buy him?

Well, he only cost 10 ,000.

I've saved a little. I'll work off the rest.

Now, tell her the question.

Please, Mr Quinn, I'll pay you 15 ,000.

It's not the money, it's the sport.

As a matter of fact, to show you my sportsmanship, I'll make you a wager.

A wager?

If Cardiff Mint does not win the race,

I'll give him to you.

You will?

But if he does win, you work for me without pay for six months.

Deal?

All right.

And the runners are moving onto the track for the 51st running of the Gold

Magic Millions Derby. Please.

Waste your wages early.

Hey, have they gone off yet? No, they've just gone to post.

It's quite a bit still running.

Despite the fact he's hurt. Quinn just won't listen to me.

Where's Quinn now?

Probably in his private box. Why?

I'll have time to explain. Is Yarns with him? No. What's going on?

Darian, wait!

Excuse me.

I need to get to the roof.

Yeah, sure. Through there and up the stairs.

And so is the outsider, can't admit.

The starter has the ready, and they're off! Course Gold ranks on top by a head.

Red Charger and the Duke present again, well in front of Tawana in the first

attack. Further back rescue, distant drop of Largo and Mystic Feet. And the

shot Carter Pitt has dropped back to take the field.

Course Gold continues to set the pace. They're racing down around the turn.

The Duke and First Attack are making their moves on the outside.

And as they strengthen up, First Attack takes command.

It's First Attack racing past Course Gold.

Let the Duke, Largo, Mystic Feet and further back comes Carter Pitt.

First Attack is the leader. Clear off.

I knew it.

You're one of us.

What the hell is that?

A one -way ticket back to 2193 to stand trial for murder.

You can't do that.

You want to bet?

Wait, wait, let's do a deal.

I don't make deals.

Look, I made a mistake, okay?

The spender that died, that was an accident.

Why'd you take off? The media.

I was the scapegoat. I'm not a murderer, they just made me look like one.

I guess the horses don't count.

I went out to Burning Tree this afternoon.

They're all dead, aren't they?

None of this was my idea.

You pulled the trigger anyway.

You shot the horses full of super adrenaline until their hearts exploded.

Queen figured it all out.

He said that no one back here would suspect... No!

Don't!

holding, I suggest you drop it.

Get down here.

The answer was right.

You really are from the future.

Darien Lambert, Captain. Fugitive retrieval.

Ah, a policeman, no less.

Well, Captain Lambert, you already know about my invention.

Electra.

Performance stimulation.

Without drugs.

With terminal side effects.

Every great idea has its downside.

But what's a little thing like wanton slaughter of good horses for a few

dollars? Good horses?

They were nags.

Losers. I gave them their moment in the sun.

Now, Captain, you're obviously far too bright and resourceful to waste your

talents as a policeman.

Let me make you a reasonable offer.

Like the one you made Jans?

No worries there, mate.

Jans was unpredictable.

I'm talking about a partnership. We could both be very rich.

I'm not interested.

In fact, I'm going to have to send you back.

I don't think so.

Besides, in the 22nd century, I'm not even a wanted man.

You are now.

For the murder of Rufio Yance.

An interesting idea.

But they'll never know.

Transmission, Sama.

No worries, mate.

I'll tell them all about it.

Did you watch the race? It was great. He lost by a nose.

You sound happy that he lost.

Quinn and I had a bet.

If Cardiff didn't win, he became mine.

I guess you've got yourself a racehorse.

Unless Quinn goes back on his word.

There's not much chance of that.

How do you know?

You see, I just saw him leaving town. Some pressing legal business, you see.

Looks like you get to train your own horse without interference.

I'd call that a major victory.

I can hardly believe my luck.

It's been a rough couple of years, but watching Cardiff make run today,

I knew it was all worth it.

Even with the pain?

Even the pain.

So I guess you're in business.

Now all I have to do is win.

I'd say you already did.

Thanks for everything.

Yes, Selma. Would now be a good time to report on additional discrepancies

between my database and events currently unfolding in Antarctica?

Antarctica? No, Selma, now is not a good time.

When will it be appropriate, Captain?

How about 1997?

In the summertime.

But, Captain... Battery charge mode, Selma.