All language subtitles for archer.2009.s03e12.dvdrip.xvid-demand

Mayday. Mayday. Mayday.

This is Commander Kellogg of I. S.A.
Space Station Horizon.

Transmission--

--to Commander Drake.
Tony, the crew has--

We are under-- I say again, we are under--

Croatoan!

And that, Mrs. Archer--

"MS-II
Don't.

Ah. "Ms." Archer, I beg your pardon.
Don't.

That was the last transmission
from the Horizon.

Which, obviously, pretty vague.

Vague? You heard Commander Kellogg.
He said the Horizon is under attack.

Well, under something.

He could've been saying
"underfinanced."

What?
Sterling...

What, they're always whining about
needing more money for their boondocks.

What? Doggies.

You think space exploration
is a boondoggle?

Well, come on, in this economy?

Exactly. Now, more than ever,
is when we need to look to space...

...for the solution
to mankind's problems.

In 200 years, Earth's population will
exceed her capacity to produce food.

And even as the famines begin,
global war will erupt...

...as fresh water
becomes scarcer than gold.

But if we begin now, using the lessons
learned aboard Space Station Horizon...

...a small group of brave colonists
can terraform Mars.

And mankind can finally slip
the surly bonds of Earth...

...to live forever among the stars.

Yeah, Lana.
Wha--?

Jesus, read a book once in your life.

So where does ISIS fit in, commander?
Well--

I think that's a bit premature
until we discuss our fee structure.

As to that,
you can name your price.

Oh, now they've got--
Enough.

Commander? As to our role?

Horizon has an international crew.
American, German, Chinese, French--

ARCHER:
Ba-dum-bum!

Uh, sorry.
I thought "French" was a joke.

Is mutiny funny to you, Mr. Archer?

I don't know,
maybe a mutiny of clowns.

Because I fear that one faction,
led by radical nationalists, has mutinied.

But who? Which one?

If he knew, he would tell us.
Read a book.

And since I don't know
which faction is behind the mutiny--

If there even was one.

--I can't trust anyone at the I.S.A.
which is why I came to ISIS.

Because of our loyalty.

Or lack thereof.
Or whatever.

Because I need a small cadre
of highly trained agents...

...to fly into orbit and help me
retake control of Horizon.

Nope. Archer.
Yep. Lana.

He just said "highly trained."
And last time I checked...

...none of us were even lowly trained
to be astronauts.

Well, how hard could it be?

Incredibly.

But since apparently
money is no object...

The training schedule will
have to be highly compressed.

The shuttle Intrepid
is launching in three days.

And I won't lie to you.
This mission will be dangerous.

Would you say we'd be venturing
into a zone of danger?

Well, yes, obviously.

No, I mean how
would you phrase that?

L-- The zone will be one of danger?

No, I mean-- Not--
If you'd say the thing--

Forget it. Never mind.

And you never mind
and also shut up.

ARCHER:
Ow! Jesus, Krieger, that's the bone.

Oh, the mean doctor takes the widdle baby's
blood, and widdle baby goes-- Ow!

You're a baby. And astronaut training
sucks complete ass. Literally.

What is the deal with all the enemas?
Uh...

And why do you need
so much blood?

Wait.
Now that I think about it, why--

Why is this man
in the restricted area?

Who? Him?

You.
Krieger.

Uh, smoke bomb!

And why aren't you
with the other trainees?

I was told I had to undergo a bunch
of extremely invasive medical tests.

Well, normally you would,
but by our doctors.

But since you're on such
an accelerated training schedule--

Six enemas is a luxury
we can ill afford. Got it.

Six?
Who knows? He put me under. Maybe 12.

Now you've wasted half a day,
so the other trainees are way ahead of you.

ARCHER:
Not for long they're not.

Well, he's eager, I'll give him that.

Well, you inspire him. With all those
medals on that powerful chest.

Your wife is a very lucky--
Oh. I'm a widower.

Oh. Difficult to meet people, isn't it,
in jobs like ours?

I only mention it because
I also happen to be single.

Yes, I know.

Excuse me.

I hope to God that was alcohol.

LANA: No.
Yes.

Damn it, Archer.
It's my turn. Cyril.

Cyril, Drake said
let me fly it.

Cut it out, Archer. I'm landing.
COMPUTER: Fifty meters, 40...

Come on, baby, keep that nose up.

COMPUTER:
...30 meters...

Aah! What the--?
COMPUTER: Explosive decompression.

ARCHER:
Happy, Cyril?

You just destroyed Alderaan.

Damn it, that was closer than
any of us have gotten to actually landing.

A, because you're all crap. And B,
who cares? We're not gonna land it.

What the hell--
DRAKE: ls going on in here?

Archer--
Saw an electrical fire in the simulator.

And knowing that my colleague's
life was in danger, I--

Acted without thinking.

As always.
Not always.

Well, thank God you did.

What--?
But almost always.

Because that's exactly the kind
of decisive action this mission calls for.

You could all learn from him.

Oh, my God.
Come on.

Starting with a little training exercise
we lightheartedly call...

...the Vomit Comet!

And if you're wondering why
we call it that...

GILLETTE:
It's all in my hair.

CYRIL:
Oh, Jeezy H. Petes.

ARCHER:
The hell is wrong with you, Lana?

DRAKE:
That's why we call it that.

What possible reason could there be
to subject human beings to--

Such mind-shattering
awesomeness!

The KC-135 flies in a parabolic arc--

Ha, ha. Who cares?

--Which allows us to achieve
weightlessness for about 30 seconds.

We'll do this 20 times...
ARCHER: Whoo!

Weightlessness!

...so you can get acquainted
with the sensation of being weightless.

It takes some time getting used to, but--
Ow.

Agent Kane, are you all right?

Yep, yep, Yep-

What is going on with you?

Do not like.

What, are you crazy?
What's not to-- Oh.

No. Archer, no!

Yes!
Please don't do this.

What's that? Sorry, I couldn't hear
you over the sound of the--

Come on!

Looking good! Only 19 more to go!

LANA:
Nineteen more times...

...until there was literally
no more fluid left in my body.

And thanks so much for that.
Cyril.

She's not the one who kept riding
you into it, holding your mouth open.

Jeez. Even in zero gravity,
you're an asshole.

You were saying?
To the wet-towel wielding survivor...

...of 15 years of boarding school
locker rooms?

Wait, 15?

Or whatever. The normal number.

Twelve?
DRAKE: Yes.

We will launch in 12 hours.

We received another transmission
from the Horizon. They can't wait.

But we haven't been trained properly!
To what? Wear a seat belt?

Actually,
is it a five-point harness, or--?

I admit this isn't
an ideal scenario.

Speaking of, what's the scenario
when we get to the Horizon?

We don't have a tactical plan. We don't--

Plenty of time to discuss
our plan during the flight.

But--
Lana. What has gotten into you?

More like what
got out of her.

Sir, I'm not sure Lana-- Sorry, honey--
is physically capable of spaceflight.

Ray. Actually,
I might not be cut out for it.

I'm sorry to hear that,
Agent Kane.

Because you're going.

To a zone...

...which is one of danger.

COMPUTER:
T-minus 90 seconds.

DRAKE:
Roger, Control. All systems are go.

Next stop, Horizon.

Okay. Archer?

I'm sorry.
Are you talking to me?

Or to her?
Who-- Why is she here?

MALORY: Because Tony invited me.
ARCHER: Tony?

You trying to get my mother
into the Million-Mile-High Club?

Sterling.
Archer.

Would you calm the hell down?
I am calm! I'm also out of here.

Take your hands off
that harness.

Make me.
And just so you know.

She-- Aah!

Can't breathe.

MAN : Flight, we're showing
suit number two with an O2 malfunction.

Double-check that.
I'm showing green across the board.

MAN: Stand by.
DRAKE: That's a roger, standing by.

MALORY:
Tony, please. He'll behave.

Won't he?

DRAKE:
Excellent.

Because I won't-- I can't-- let anyone
jeopardize the success of this mission.

MAN: Flight, O2 on suit two is showing normal.
But keep an eye on it.

Oh, I will.

Hooray.
Resume countdown, Control.

MAN:
Roger, Flight.

COMPUTER:
T-minus five, four...

Exciting, isn't it?
...three...

...two, one.

I think it is.

COMPUTER:
Ignition.

MAN:
Liftoff.

Just relax and rely on your training.

Which we didn't have!

Because Phase Two is a little rough.

ARCHER:
Phase Two? What's Phase--?

That was Phase Two.

Did not like.

Wait till you see Phase Three.

ALL:
What's Phase Three?

I'm kidding. There is no Phase Three.

Just a little space humor.

ARCHER:
Yeah, funny stuff.

DRAKE:
Right?

Right, then.

I want to brief you all on what to
expect when we dock with Horizon.

Uh, can we expect a pharmacy?

Lana, it's not a strip mall.

Although,
I assume there's a bar?

A bar?
Or, whatever. Cantina?

Uh, no. Please pay attention.

We'll dock here, move forward
on foot toward Horizon's bridge--

Wait, on foot?

Horizon has artificial gravity.

Look. See how it spins
on its longitudinal axis?

Lana, look at it spin.

When we reach the bridge,
we'll retake control of Horizon.

But we can expect heavy resistance.
I'm sure the mutineers are armed.

With what, slide rules and Tang?

The M-41 Mark Two plasma-pulse rifle
with concussion grenade launcher.

Holy shit!

On "kill" mode, the M-41 fires
lethal plasma ammunition.

On "stun," it fires an ion pulse,
similar to an EMP.

And can it be fired with an erection?

Oh, for God's sake.
Archer! Muzzle!

Relax, it's on stun, Lana.

Careful. Even on stun, it can--

Oops.

Clear.
Clear!

Ow!

As I was saying,
it's possible for the EMP to stop a man's heart.

So "stun" may be a bit
of a misnomer.

Damn it, Archer.

I'm not the one
who was all sweaty.

Mr. Archer, that's twice you've
jeopardized the success of this mission.

There will not be a third.

MAN :
Uh, flight, we have a problem.

Well, don't look at me.

DRAKE:
My God.

On this trajectory, we'll miss Horizon.
Control, what happened?

MAN: Burn rates were good.
Flight, uh, stand by.

Uh, flight, we're showing
that you are grossly overweight.

PAM:
Oh, for--

I wouldn't say grossly.
CHERYL: I would.

DRAKE: I would be well within my rights
to jettison both of you into space.

Well within them.
Malory.

However, for, uh, numerous reasons...

...one being,
this ship can't actually do that...

...I've decided take you with us.

But I want to know how
you got aboard.

What do you mean, how?
Mr. Ar--

Archer! Whoa!

Yeah, so that safety is tricky, huh?

Clear.
Clear!

PAM:
Ow!

Awesome.

Son of a shit-snacking whore.

Mr. Figgis.

Lock that man in the cargo hold.

Who, me?

Aye-freaking-aye.

Ms. Archer.

In case I need to sterilize something.
DRAKE: Get strapped in.

Agent Gillette,
monitor this woman's vital signs.

Agent Kane, come with me. I may
need some help getting us to Horizon.

So that we don't die writhing in agony,
when we run out of oxygen.

Yeah, been there. No picnic.

Uh, speaking of, great for picnics.

The tofu teriyaki, not so much.

CHERYL:
There's teriyaki?

CYRIL: No.
Cyril, come on, let me out.

No, you jerk. You shoot me
in the heart with a space-blaster?

Are you k-- You're still mad about that?

Not to mention whatever idiot reason
you had for smuggling Pam on board.

You're screwing him, aren't you?
What? Yes.

No! Because if we don't die,
for all I care, you can rot in there.

ARCHER:
Cyril? Cyril!

Well, good luck fighting a bunch of--
whatever-- space-pirates without me.

**** you, space.

DRAKE:
Come on, baby, just a few more seconds!

Damn it!

I don't know if that was a long enough burn.
Agent Kane, I need a readout.

Ugh! For God's sakes, woman.
Dramamine!

It makes me sleepy.
I think we're okay, sir.

Thank God,
because we're out of fuel.

What? How are we gonna
get back to Earth?

There is fuel. On Horizon.

Well, I didn't know that.

Flight computer will dock the ship.
Assemble boarding party.

Nor was I told there would be a party.
Lana, what are you wearing?

DRAKE:
Bio-matrix composite body armor.

Effective against small-arms fire.
And we need all the help we can get.

Since there's only four of us.

Yeah, that seems
kind of few.

If you need help, I'll--
DRAKE: No.

We can't jeopardize the women.

Cough.
Well, not you.

No, Agent Kane, I'm afraid
your particular skill-set outweighs your--

COM P UTER:
Docking complete.

Is that a ghost?
Nope.

Boarding party, into the airlock.

COMPUTER:
Gravity engaged.

Weapons on stun.
Fast and hard to the bridge.

And remember, these are
mutineers. Even if they try to--

suppressing fire!

Ugh. Otherwise, just follow me.

And try not to shoot me in the--
Oh, shit.

What the hell?
ls wrong with me?

It's the artificial gravity.
You have to readjust to it.

I'll get my inner ear right on that.

We don't have time for this.

MAN:
There they are!

Drop your weapons. Drop your weapons!

Suppressing--

Uh, so does this
run on batteries, or--?

Fire!
Aah!

Get them! Get them!

Get them!
MAN: Fire!

We're pinned down!

Oh, really?

You don't think I could rock this?

Ahem. Couple things.

One, I don't know what that means.

And two-- Hang on.

Hang on.

Hang on.

Hang on.

And two, you obviously
don't know what "boarding party" means.

Who am I, 16th century
female Irish pirate Gréinne O'Malley?

Ah! Or her sole female descendant.

ARCHER:
I'm sorry.

For what? Space-blastering me
in the fricking tits?

Or tricking me into that fart-locker
to get blasted into outer goddamn space...

...on the off chance
you might want to bang me?

Both, I guess. Look--

After you blew me off for Katya,
the big-titted cyborg.

Little Miss, uh...

RZ-double-DZ?

Ha, ha, nice.

Thanks. And I'm sorry,
but you gotta let me out, Pam.

They're fighting space-pirates
out there. With Cyril.

You're supposed to fire!

What is wrong with you?

ARCHER:
And Lana can't even stand up.

You idiot, just reset the--

Jesus, you're like a dog in a station wagon.

No. We're losing the beachhead.

ARCHER: They're running out of time, Pam.
Oh, all right.

That being said...

Quickie?

Meh.

Whoo! Okay, good luck.

Thanks. Normally, I'd say I don't need
it, but I can barely feel my legs.

I call that the MOAB. it stands for--

I know what it stands for.
I was there. Please don't say it out loud.

Now, if you'll excuse me,
I need to...

Kick some space-pirate ass!
Whoo!

ALL: Archer?
Hang on.

Yes, Archer, duh. And if you're done
doing each other's hair, let's--

DRAKE:
Retake the ship!

Or just run around
interrupting people.

DRAKE:
Aah! I'm hit, I'm hit!

Oh, for--

Do I have to do everything?

He asked, intending to be facetious.

LANA: I'm sorry.
I don't know what's wrong with me.

Besides suffering from gigantism?
Shut up.

The bridge! We have to make it to the--

ARCHER: The bridge. Yes, I heard you.
So unless we're going the wrong way...

DRAKE:
No, that's it right there.

Then shut up. God.

Okay, now what?
You can un-shut up.

The com-link, by the door.

Commander Kellogg? It's Drake.

Tony?
ARCHER : "Tony"?

Oh, my God, am I glad to see you.
We couldn't have held out much longer.

Well, we got here as fast as we could.

My God, you're wounded.
Put him here.

Please, we'll take those.

ARCHER :
Yeah, and here you go.

KELLOGG:
Oh, dear, are you wounded too?

No, just--
DRAKE: Just a little space-sickness.

Eventually,
she'll get acclimated.

I'm-- Eventually?

Yes, she's strong.
Good breeding stock.

Hey!
Whoa, Charles Benedict Davenport.

Uh, the father of eugenics.

Seriously, guys,
read a book.

And two more on the Intrepid.
Stowaways, almost as good as her.

Two more? Then we can populate Mars
even faster than we'd hoped.

CYRIL & GILLETTE: What?
Did you say "Mars"?

Oh, now your ears--

Wait, why did you
say Mars?

MAN:
Don't you see?

They're the mutineers. Aah!

Welcome to the...

...Danger Zone.