Synopsis: When Rygel offers Moya’s crew to Scorpius in exchange for his own freedom, it falls to D’Argo and Crichton to engineer a diversion that will allow Moya to escape. On board the Command Carrier, Rygel is witness to Scorpius supplanting Crais as Commander, and also to Crais’ own crisis of faith. Crichton sees only one way for Moya to escape: he and D’Argo must carry out a spectacular suicide mission to stop Scorpius in his tracks.
John: Oh you have GOT to be kidding! Tell me there is some kind of sick punch line coming! Zhaan: Unfortunately John – it’s true. John: Great. Abso-fudging-lutely great.
D’Argo: Rygel, listen to me. And listen very, very carefully.(he says something in Luxan) John: What the hell did you just say? Chiana: Something about his corpse and a – body function. John: Oh that’ll help.
John: Well I can tell you this for free – I will not be taken alive. I’ve been in the goddamned Chair and I am not going back in it. D’Argo: I know of the concept, but there is no Luxan word for it. Aeryn: Suicide? John: I am not talking about suicide. But it doesn’t look like we’re gonna get out of this one and if we’re gonna go down, I wanna go down swinging. D’Argo: Then we shall do so together. Aeryn: Ugh! Just to be in the warm glow of all this testosterone!
John: Okay. What did we see? Rygel flew that transport right in to their ship. D’Argo: Presumably screaming, I surrender, all the way. John: Yeah, but what if one of us did the same thing, but at the last second veered off straight into the bridge? A Trojan Horse.
Zhaan: You went there to sell us out Rygel. Rygel: You bet your shiny blue ass I did. Hmph! But I didn’t. So make the most of it now.
John: Oh yeah! Ah, the tools of the chief anarchist. Zhaan: John? I’ve made new family here, surrounded by all of you. And now I sense it’s coming to an end. John: Well, it’s a Jerry Springer kind of family. But for what’s it’s worth Zhaan – you are family.
John: Dad. This is probably the last note in the bottle you’re going to get. Things are going bad here, and, uh…
Crais: There is much in life that is unfair. We are all proof of that. John: If life was fair, you’d be dead.
John: What are you doing here Crais? Really. Crais: I believe that my best chance is to let the Hynerian explain my position to you. John: You’re letting Rygel be your advocate? You’re worse off than you look.
John: How’re you doing? Crais: Why would you ask? John: I look at you… And I get homesick. I’m desperate for human, male-to-male conversation. And I figure cars, football… They’re out of the question.
Chiana: Well ah – what if other people want you, too? John: Is this some sort of weird alien send off Chiana: Call it what you like. I know of no other way to thank you for what you’re doing. John: Never – before – the big game. Hm? But thanks. Chiana: You saved my life. John: Pass it on. Chiana: What? John: When someone else needs it, return the favor. You pass it on.
Rygel: You’re not joking. I can have your possessions? John: If I die and you don’t – yeah. Have at it. Rygel: Why? John: Well, you’re a material kind of guy Rygel. Have some material. Rygel: What does that mean? John: It means, Sparky, that you’re a soulless bastard. Rygel: I am not. John: Hey, who knows? Maybe you’ll get lucky. We’ll all die and you can have all our stuff. Rygel: That’s not fair. John: Sparky, Spanky, Fluffy, Buckwheat XVI. You tried to sell us out. Rygel: But I didn’t – did I? John: They weren’t buying – were they? Rygel: No. And I became convinced that after I turned you in, I would be next. John: Aw. Now how does that taste in your mouth? Rygel: Look I-I know I can be selfish, but given a chance I can usually- John: Do what? Do the right thing? Rygel: Yes. John: Rygel, I figure the right thing starts at the beginning of the day. Not after you’ve been caught.
John: This is John Crichton, somewhere in the Universe.
D’Argo: I hate this stuff. John: Chicks love it.
John: How much time do we have after it starts? D’Argo: She was vague to the point that I suspect that she doesn’t have a clue. John: Excellent.
John: Fleet of bogeys on the way. Fly fasta Rasta Man! D’Argo: If I could fly any faster, don’t you think I would? John: Just a figure of speech D’Argo. D’Argo: Figure less. Speak less.
John: Hey – D’Argo. How come I’m not afraid? D’Argo: Fear accompanies the possibility of death. Calm shepherds its certainty. John: I love hanging with you, man. My Dad’s good luck charm. D’Argo: Does it work? John: I’m alive. So far.
John: Kirk and Spock. Abbot and Costello. First base.