Original subtitles

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.