All language subtitles for Farscape.S04E11.720p.BluRay.x264-SiNNERS

Previously on Farscape.

I am Pathfinder Neeyala.

Wormhole technology.

Garnered at great cost.

With potential beyond measure.

Moya was sucked down a wormhole
and spat out again.

What happened in the middle?

We were not harmed,
merely... examined.

By who? Neeyala's
Pathfinder buddies?

I... couldn't say.

Tres, dos, uno.

I've finally figured
out wormholes.

You did it? All that wormhole
nonsense we put up with.

Yeah, I can get you home.

If I knew where home was
or where we are.

And now, on Farscape.

Exist...

Exist... ence.

Existence.

Existence. Existen...

...eal.

Exist-en... si... al.

How's the English?

Oh.

They start small, they grow,
and then they change.

I don't know. 26 symbols.
It should be easy.

Well, they can barely escape
their own gravity.

He's been out there a long time.

Hmm?

Oh, yeah, he seems to like this
particular wormhole for some reason.

Hmm. He's just learned to speak
the language of wormhole.

Worm-hole.

Wormhole.

If you wanna get him back, that's
not the language you need to learn.

- John, are you there?
- We're on secure Comms.

Is there a problem?

I just caught this apothecary
placing drugs in your quarters.

She says they help you
forget Aeryn.

They just dull the pain.

Do they work?

When I double the dose, yeah.

How much perspective
have you lost?

You know that if you take anything this
witch gives you, you halve the dose.

D'Argo, it ain't none of your
business, so forget about it.

I could make something that
will help you remember.

Oh! Soulless Luxan!

John.

Oh John, you have to let her go.

It's more complicated than that.

Crichton out.

Ah! How is Moya doing?

Much better now that her new filters are
blocking this region's electrostatic surges.

Excellent. Next thing you have to do
is get over your fear of wormholes.

Defying all logic,
Crichton may actually

figure out how to get us away
from the Peacekeepers forever.

Without disrespect, he oftentimes leaps
to conclusions prior to leading us...

Not here, Pilot. Trust me.

I wouldn't have risen to Dominar

if I wasn't good at recognizing
things before they happen.

You were deposed in a coup
led by your own cousin.

Hmm. Just be ready.

None of them seem to take your
warnings very seriously.

Why should they?

They have only anecdotal evidence
of what the Scarrans intend.

Unlike you and I.

Should I accept your proposal,
to be allies,

what assurances do I have that
you will watch my back?

Apart from the pleasantness
of the task,

you instantly become the most
important one to me.

Most important, save Crichton.

Always save Crichton.

Agreed.

Three, two, one...

Ain't you a beautiful thing?

Damn, check this puppy out.

Hey, Pilot, about time for
that pickup, I think.

John?
- Break out the docking web anytime now.

Pilot?

Pilot?

Pilot!

D'Argo, you might wanna
get the ship...

Pilot!

...ready.

My name is John Crichton,
an astronaut.

Three years ago I got shot
through a wormhole.

I'm in a distant part
of the universe

aboard this living ship of
escaped prisoners,

my friends.

I've made enemies.

Powerful, dangerous.

Now all I want is to
find a way home

to warn Earth.

Look upward and share
the wonders I've seen.

Kansas, in the winter.

D'Argo.

Pilot.

Oh, hell, I'm getting that "going
to the Island of Misfit Toys" thing.

Or just waiting on the Titanic.

Well, as long as this whole deal
doesn't end up with me as an old man.

Hello!

Nanook? Beelzebub?

Yeah, let's get it on,
get it over with.

Nice threads.

Helps to humanize you.

Makes it easier for me to
sympathize with your problems.

Time.

Time.

Zup?

Time.

Flies.

Time.

Bandits.
- Time.

Wounds all heal.
- Time.

Rosemary and thyme...
- Time.

zup.

Time.

Either stop pointing guns at
people or get a bigger gun.

Time is...

Infinite.

Relative.

You are quite a simple organism
to possess the knowledge you do.

You're only saying that 'cause
you don't know me.

Time is meaningless, and yet
it is all that exists.

Very Morrissey.

My name is Joh...
- Yes.

And yours is...
- Unimportant to our encounter.

Exactly.

I love how you lay it
out there, Einstein.

So let me ask you.

Without getting existential on
me, why am I... why are we... here?

You are present to perish.

I am present to effect
that outcome.

Oh, my God.

Day one.

How y'all doing?

My name's John.

John Cri...

Have to wait for the
translator microbes, buddy.

...answer him quickly.

You know how Luxans can be.
- Oh, you betcha.

Your ship. What kind is it?

It's a... four cylinder.

Got a plastic Jesus
on the dashboard.

Whoa!

Pilot! I demand you give me
maneuverability, now!

There is nothing I can do.

Not while the control collar
is still in place.

Hey, why don't you try
ripping out that control panel?

Moya can't withstand this
assault much longer!

Here's Rygel!

Hey, Sparky!

They brought you on board,
didn't they?

Don't worry, I'll protect you.

I'll look after you now.
You look after me later.

No offense, Buckwheat, but you
couldn't look after a Chia Pet.

Why don't we move this along.

What is the matter
with you people?!

Tongue.

Thank you.

Thanks for the memories.

Where's the rest of my suit?

This atmosphere will
sustain you.

Space and time are fused.

A set of coordinates for each
required to locate a specific event.

Everything happens at
a time, in a place.

Relativity.

Movement at speed through space
becomes movement through time.

Einstein again. 1905.
You publish anything since?

Wormholes bridge space-time,
creating a unique ability to navigate.

Yeah, wormholes.

Been there, done that.

Many times, it seems.

And now, you unerringly position
yourself prior to them opening.

How do you possess
such knowledge?

Bad luck.

Really bad luck.

It's a long story. Maybe later.

The unconscious knowledge we've
given you will guide you.

No!

You were already on
the right path.

Get out of my head!

Time.

Ancients?

Yeah.

I never met another man who was
more in touch with his own feelings.

A real hell-raiser.

And you couldn't help
but love him.

Kind of man who would finish
a game with a broken leg.

Rescued me from out of nowhere and dropped
me right in the middle of my dream job,

working on the Farscape Project.

Stephen Hawking is a genius,
all right?

But John is... more toward that end
of the spectrum than the rest of us.

He would share whatever
he had with others.

I can't bear to be without him.

Sorry.

Oh, and he was so good in bed.

Wormholes are the one feature
that traverse both our realms,

which adjoin, though
never intersect.

An aggressive perforation of one
would allow an unacceptable

incursion of material from
your existence into ours.

And who would wanna do that?

The biologics of your realm are
infinitely more aggressive than ours.

Perhaps. Why don't we table
that discussion?

Tell me about the Ancients.

Members of my species, substantially
modified to live in your realm.

They're here to spy on us?
Narcs?

To catalogue, report
and influence.

When they disappeared,
we decided to investigate

the state of wormhole
knowledge in your realm.

You hauled Moya's ass
down a wormhole.

I was surprised to
discover a Leviathan.

The expectation was a
Pathfinder vessel.

I have just infused our beacon
into the Leviathan superstructure.

Those I questioned knew
nothing of wormholes.

They did, however, mention
you repeatedly.

He knows. Crichton knows...

Wormholes are his obsession.

You set them free to find me.

Your knowledge is is quiet
extraordinary for one of your realm.

Thanks.

And your many travels inside
wormholes, troubling.

But now that I've glimpsed
your mind.

I'm aware this has made you a
target of more aggressive species.

A liability which must
be dealt with.

You stay the hell away from me.

D'Argo? Pilot?

- Crichton...
- Aeryn?

Pip... Aeryn.

It's you.

Ah, what the hell's
going on here?

Frelled. Right up the ass.

It's a great plan you
came up with.

What about the others?

Dead. Sheyangs got 'em.

We're the only ones left.

This is not funny!
We're done here!

We're done, all right.
Everything's gone and we're next.

Okay, if we’re gonna do this...

What about the Pods, my module?

Maintenance Bay.

It's, uh, it's a furnace.

Space suits?

This floor is the only one that
isn't filled with toxic dren.

Oh, ho!

Oh, come on, just once.

You and me, like we should have
from the very beginning.

Pip, knock it off.
Let's just get out of here.

Come on, Crichton.
We're gonna die.

I just wanna die doing something
fun. Something I like.

Something that makes me feel...

good.

Your plan didn't work.

This is mine.

No!

Spectacular.

Boy, I gotta hand it to you. You
give great... great illusion.

Now I know how Copperfield
got Schiffer.

What you experienced was real.

Well, it felt real.

Real.

Real like the water's not wet?

Real like you see with no eyes?

No!

Time.

Wormholes.

The knowledge to unravel events.

For that alone,
I should kill you.

As a Pa'u, I'm generally
the teacher.

But with John, I... I learned
as much as I gave.

Whenever he touched me,
there was an almost...

electric caring.

John Crichton...
made me a better captain.

I sensed a, a purity of spirit.

Better leader.

A purity of soul.

Better man.

And I'm supposed to just
take your word for it.

This hair could be as fake as
this iceberg, this world.

You.

That hair represents a possible
outcome, an unrealized reality.

When he'd come over, I'd have to
cover up all the mirrors,

just so he'd spend some of
the time looking at me.

My dad and John's mom are
brother and sister.

Crichton blew a key tackle!

My three-year-old niece could've
tripped this guy up.

It hurt Dad 'cause he loved
family so much,

but we were forbidden to hang out
with John after he was about 15.

- You know why he's dead?
Pig-headed.

He actually made a couple
of passes at me.

We weren't ready for a
space trial, not really.

Like I'm gonna sleep with a guy
who only has one graduate degree.

He was a cheap date, a lousy
drunk, and a redneck.

If I say "blasphemous",
I don't mean in his attitudes toward God.

I mean his attitude toward life.

He was lousy in the sack.

Damn, I always knew Reverend
Miller didn't like me.

But Caroline? That's...
that's a bit of a shock.

This wormhole. You lingered so
long I was able to locate you.

Describe this fascination.

I don't know.

Something just struck me.

It is part of an
extensive system.

One of untold number which permeate
the space and time of your realm.

Tell me about...
unrealized reality.

Oh, no, this is that dream where
I wake up in a cell, naked.

Thank Heaven for simple mercies.

One out of two.

So you won again.

Two of three.

Officer Aeryn Sun.

Special Peacekeeper Commando.

Icarian Company,
Pleisar Regiment.

My name Jose Jimenez.

We got a lot to catch up on.

Pretty good, huh?

I learned from the best.

You.

Why are you out of uniform?

What is your rank and regiment?

Oh, baby, you had me at hello.

Rank and regiment.

Now.

And how do you know my name?

What you should really ask is
how I know you've got a birthmark

on the sweet spot of your hip.

Every wormhole system has millions of
exits, each to a distinct time and place.

Travel from A to B.
Now, attempt to travel back.

You could arrive at point A
immediately after you left,

or a cycle later,
or a cycle earlier,

or ten or ten thousand.
Millions of permutations.

The secret is
understanding time.

Not so much understanding,
as accounting for.

Unskilled wanderings create
unrealized realities.

So what you showed me
wasn't real?

If I had not pulled you back,

wherever it was you went would have
become your reality from then on.

Does not compute.

Are you saying that there's millions of me
running around with millions of pathetic lives?

One of you, with millions
of potential realities,

depending on where and when
you emerge from this system.

If you do.

Time.

Going forward's not a
problem, is it?

Going backward, that
screws the pooch.

Should a traveler appear earlier in
the timeline of his own existence,

he would be but as a pebble
cast upon still waters.

But the ripples he creates would, over
time, radiate upon far distant shores,

geometrically altering
events in its path.

And your Ancients gave me just
enough knowledge to be dangerous.

Without such input, the odds of
anyone else actually appearing

at a destination they
previously occupied

is so remote as to be
mathematically disharmonious.

Then why am I not dead already?

I trust the one who
entrusted you.

But I need to understand why
he bestowed this ability.

Are you afraid of this
knowledge?

No.

There is still time.

Shall we go, sir?

Mm-hmm.

The Scarran spy,
as you commanded.

Release her.

Sir?

Release her.

After what happened, is that...

Are you questioning my orders?

Release the spy.

Now watch...

and learn.

Be cool and no one'll get hurt.

What of those already hurt?

Someone, sometime, has to
end the madness.

I will never tell you what
you want to know.

Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn.
I'm just trying to keep you alive.

Thank you.

Guards! Stop her!

Captain, stay down!

Weak species.

That wasn't me.

That's not me.

Whatever it was, would be you.
Could be you.

Which is why our vigilance
is so high.

Why the knowledge to navigate
wormholes must be suppressed,

and why you trouble me.

You want me not to have
the knowledge?

Take it out of my head.

I'm kinda surprised that worked.

Sorry.

This is not me, either.

My ability to maintain this
environment is weakening.

Just take back what your
Ancients put in my head.

Impossible.

Impractical and
possibly imprudent.

What do you desire
with wormholes?

For starters? To go home.

Your place of origin is where
you can do the most damage.

Oh, God.

John!

He's never faithful to
his girlfriends.

Well, he made it perfectly clear

that his work was a greater
priority than I was.

The womanizing, the drink...

Yes, I got the point.

Drugs.

The point. Yes. But the risk?

People you don't recognize.

A world changed irrevocably
by the toss of a pebble.

Well just shove me back down the wormhole.
- I cannot.

Why not? You did it for
Moya and Pilot.

Propulsion. You are the first to
be brought here without vehicle.

So how the hell am I supposed
to get off this rock?

Through the wormhole.

With what propulsion?

The smoke you're
blowing up my ass?

You possess the knowledge!

I have little time.

From the moment the Ancients
implanted that knowledge,

you exist to service a larger...

No. No.

That's what you want.

My name is John Crichton.

I'm not your pawn.

Then let us proceed.

John Crichton?

Arrogant.

Impulsive.

Self-absorbed.

Insane.
- Ignorant.

You tell me.
The guy was an idiot.

I once shared Unity with that "Uuman",
and the experience still haunts me.

Don't go any further.
That is John Crichton.

I'm glad he's dead.

Why don't you just grab anyone that
goes wormholing and be done with it?

Simply the effort to encounter
you was massive.

We can no more function in your
realm than you in ours.

Which is why the Ancients
were important to us.

So modify more of your people
and send them over.

The endeavor is in hand, but
requires time for metamorphosis.

Have you truly chosen
to help prevent

aggressive species from
acquiring this knowledge?

As a career?

No.

We have little time.

And there is much you
need exposure to.

What's happening?

I must soon reenter my realm.

And what happens to me?

If you have learned enough to
survive, reinsertion to the wormhole.

Now, pay attention and listen.

Sagaciously.

From every point of entry, a
wormhole branches into multiple parts.

The subdivision
continues until...

The subdivision continues
until, at length

...you're deposited back
into space-time.

The journey can be random
or with purpose.

...or with purpose.
- Destination is the key.

Every portal has a distinct
space-time signature.

The only destinations you can
realize by design,

are those of which you
have foreknowledge.

The more you travel the more
signatures you will catalogue.

Our Ancients have given you the ability
to recognize these subtle differences.

Since every destination is
surrounded by similar...

...unrealized realities...

...the closer you travel...

...the more you must maintain...

...absolute engrossment.

And never return...

...to a familiar place...

...prior to the last...

...last time you left...

...last time you left.

...prior to the last
time you left.

Your next journey may lead to
a permanent unrealized...

...permanent unrealized...

...unrealized reality...

...reality.

He... here.

Hot dog?

Hurry.

Hot dog?

Learn. See. Feel.

Did you bring the mustard
and onions?

Uh... yeah.

Glad you could make it, son.

Well, I can't stay long.

I gotta get back to work.

I was hoping we could
have a talk.

Hot dog?

Yeah.

I always loved your dogs.

Corn on the cob, too.
Watermelon. All your favorites.

So, what did you wanna
talk about?

You.

A talk we should've
had years ago.

I don't think I'm still
a virgin, Dad.

You can't beat this.

And I hate to see you waste your
energy on the impossible.

Impossible's a daily part
of my life.

You remember what we were like centuries
before the Scarrans conquered us?

Weak genes.

Disease. Death.

I think our health and longevity outweigh
some personal freedoms, don't you, son?

No.

You'll never change.

But you're young.

I never told you this,

but when I was young,
I wanted to fly, too.

Space.

A dream.

But it wasn't to be.

And it won't be for you, either.

I can't accept this.

Any of it.

I know I'm not much of
a hero to you, son.

But if it means anything, I'd
still like to walk on the moon.

This place disintegrates.

Don't let me go again.
You gotta...

you gotta put me back in my
own time, my own place.

But you put me back where
you found me.

You can do that yourself.

I don't... understand
any of this.

There's nothing to understand.

It's not a science, John.

It's an art.

You failed me in Art.

Not to mention third
grade English.

And I still do not understand
the proper use of a comma!

You did not forget
the A, Johnny.

You wrote a report about
Mark "Twin."

You can hear me.

How do I get back to Moya?

Focus on the space-time signature
where you entered the wormhole.

Every system is like a maze that
loops back upon itself.

Focus. Get back to Moya.

After you have left her.

Well what if I screw up?
What if I get there before?

You afraid, buddy?

Yes. No. Maybe.

If you get back to ship before you left,
the pebble that drops will be close to you.

Ignore the ripples.

Fix the first thing
that goes ape.

Fix the first thing.
What was that about the ripples?

The elasticity of time allows for
unrealized realities to remain so.

If events are matched closely
enough to course...

...they have a way of
restructuring themselves to familiar outcomes.

If matched closely enough to
course, events have a way of restructuring themselves.

Harvey knew.

Harvey knew.

Harvey knew!

Scorpius knew.

How?

How?!

I mean, I like him,
but he was, uh...

Insolent.

Selfish.

Competitive.

Obsessive.

Obnoxious.

Unbearable.

Hey, I think we should run.

You wanna to run? Let's run!

Chiana.

Shoulda run.

Chiana!
- I'm coming.

What did you find?

Just these. Barely charged.

They're gone.

My love, your love.
My love, your love.

Our loves. Gone.

Suicide.
Suicide and they're gone!

They're trying to make peace with
the Peacekeepers. What are you doing?

Plot a course.

A course. A course. Yes, yes.

You should eat something.

Before you die.

John Crichton?

Crichton.

Nope. Not in the space program.

Glasses?

Accountant?

See, our families were never close,
so I think I only saw him once.

I could look him up
in the Who's Who.

Are you sure I know him?

Maybe he went to State.

For every point of entry, a
wormhole branches into multiple paths.

The subdivision continues
until at length...

The subdivision
continues until...

The journey can be random
or with purpose.

...you're deposited back
into space-time.

Destination is the key.
- Destination is the key.

Destination is the key
- Destination is the key.

Pilot, I demand you give
me Starburst now.

Starburst? Zhaan and Aeryn are
out there under a flag of truce.

D'Argo's regained consciousness.

He and Crichton are
eager to leave.

Don't! Don't!
They're peaceful. Please.

No! Cannot leave my lady.

My love, my life.

Transport Pod's loaded
with supplies

but there are Marauders waiting
to shoot us down. We can't escape.

We're trapped?

That's what "We can't escape"
means. Go help Stark hyperventilate.

Well if you'd just let
me negotiate...

We mean you no harm.

No.

Well, I could...
I could bake something.

Since every destination is
surrounded by similar...

...unrealized realities.

The closer you travel
closer you travel...

...the more you must maintain...

The closer you travel the
more you must maintain...

the more you must maintain
absolute engrossment.

Pilot, where are you, you
four-armed tralk?

Right now, Moya couldn't
Starburst the length or your stubby little arm.

This stubby little arm is...

Is short, as is our ability to maneuver,
accelerate, or defend ourselves.

Why doesn't anything work?

Because, slutty tralk,

of all the half-frelled modifications
for his wormhole experiments.

And never we return to
a familiar place...

...prior to the last time
you left.

...prior to the time...

...prior to the last time...

...prior to the last...

...prior to the last
time you left.

Prior to the last time you left.

Now just why won't you
help us, Crichton?

Because, like everybody
else here,

I... don't wanna be
here anymore.

You have to fix what
you've done.

But. Yeah, I haven't...
- Fix it.

Can't you see he's distracted?

No!

Scat! Go on!

This...

This will free you from any
thoughts of your betrothed.

No, no, no, honestly.

She... She's not on my mind
anymore, Grandma.

So big. So beautiful.

So blue.

Aeryn!
- Blue?

Come back to me!

You're very pretty.

Oh!

Fix it!

Yes, fix it!

You really should have
picked me over Zhaan.

Absolutely, next time, when
I'm gonna move house.

The dren gets worse, morons.

All right, I should die
at any time now.

We haven't done anything.

Einstein, any time...
- Fix Starburst, you miscreant species!

No!

Crais, you yotzfotz bastard!

We had a deal!

A deal? You tried to
sell us out.

You bet your fekkik, tenka head.

It's every Hynerian for himself.

We're being blasted apart!

This way. Weapon's primed.

The Peacekeepers have boarded.

Oh. If company's coming, I can
bake some skrinberrry muffins.

Let's go and kill Peacekeepers.

Chiana, remain at your post.
- No.

Starburst, rig for
manual activation.

- I got it.

Well, that's it.
That's it, I quit.

Stay at your post, Chiana.

You know, you suck worse as a
captain than you did in bed.

That was helpful.
- Can you fix Starburst?

I don't think so.
What about your ship?

What ship?
- Lo'La.

Lo'Laan was my wife.

Are you mocking me on
death's threshold?

Never, little big man. Never.

Um, excuse me, but she is having
some sort of fit. She's dying.

Happens when I'm stressed.

Stark, pull yourself together.
- Won't be very... Let me go to work, please.

Send her to a better place.

Oh, please, I don't wanna die.
I don't wanna go down like that.

Heal her pain.

Wanna a fight, you got a fight.

Do your worst. I will never
be taken prisoner again.

Aah! I am bleeding.

Will you look at me?
I am bleeding. I...

Calm down.

They're on board! We give
them what they want. Anything they want.

Take no prisoners.

They cannot die.

Corporeal illusion.

Return. Replenish.

You! You shoot me.

Shoot now!

Coming back, Stark?

Always.

No, no, no, no.
What are you doing?

Giving her a second chance.

Katratzi ozanatha katratzi.

Execute on sight.
- Yes, sir.

Shoot now!

My brother's murderer.

You are dead, Crichton.

Captain Crais.

I am Dominar Rygel
the Sixteenth.

I trust our deal will
be honored...

What you experienced was real...

You afraid, buddy?

Wherever it was you went will
become your reality from then on.

Are you afraid of this
knowledge?

Well done, comrade.

Well done.

Your next journey may lead
to a permanent...

...to a permanent...

...to a permanent
unrealized reality.

...reality.

I almost could not retrieve you.

Yeah, I noticed.

We're running out
of real estate.

This construct disintegrates.

Next time, your reality...

forever.

No next time. Leave me.

To die? Why?

Too risky.

All of it.

Best to leave me.

Are you suddenly
becoming afraid?

Yes.

Of the damage I can do, yes.

Fear.

Fear is the correct answer.

Can't do it.

You'd rather die?

Not particularly. But I liked my childhood
and I don't wanna scramble the eggs.

Should aggressive species
puncture the wormhole,

the consequences for both our
realms would be unimaginable.

Ah, screw it.

But I am not Kirk, Spock, Luke,
Buck, Flash or Arthur frelling Dent.

I am Dorothy Gale from Kansas, and
you are gonna hire more Ancients.

Then simply permit yourself to perish
prior to reaching a destination.

Moya.

After.

Her space-time signature
will be familiar.

Powerful.

Moya.

Fear is your providence.

Feel the force.
- Adjust.

Maintain focus.

Focus.

Harmony.

When this is over, you're gonna
take this crap out of my head.

Someday, should you survive.

After.

Do you now know what it is?

Time.

D'Argo?

Pilot?

Whoops.