Synopsis: After a botched Starburst, Moya becomes stuck in a dimensional schism; divided into different planes of existence, with the crew scattered and lost throughout these planes. Crichton is witness to various strange phenomena as he explores the fabulously changed Moya. A decision is made to reverse Moya out of the schism, but as this plan gets underway, an alien source warns that their carefully thought out plan will lead to Moya’s destruction.
John: Ugh! Sal-a-monella! What the hell is that? Rygel: That’s kroldar! A delicacy. Even for pagans. John: Yeah, how long was it under your butt getting delicate?
Rygel: Well. Moya has been – for as long as I can remember – our protector, our home, our companion, and our friend. John: Amen. Rygel: However, as relationships grow, they also change. Do you think we can trade her for a faster vessel? Aeryn: Moya is not a possession Your Lowness! D’Argo: If you ignore the messenger – which is effortless – the message is sound. Perhaps we have outgrown the usefulness of – Look – Who made this shellack?? John: Recipe called for chicken – all I had was space rodent.
John: D’Argo, Aeryn and Rygel have disappeared. What happened? Did we hit something? Pilot: Still unknown. Quantify “disappeared.” John: Here one second gone the next. Elvis has left the building-appeared.
John: Rygel is on tier 8. You’ll have to find him on foot. Chiana: Me?! Get frelled. John: Listen Sunshine. You want to be part of this crew? Chiana: On your good days. John: This IS one of the good days. I thought you were Junior Miss Tough Chick of the universe. Chiana: Yeah when I can kiss or kick or cry my way out of it. This is way, way, WAY, WAY different. John: You bet your ass it is. And Pilot can’t get those outer bay doors open so you can fly that pod around on its pad.
John: What’s so damn funny? Rygel: You! You! You’re making less sense than usual – but – in a cute way! John: “Cute?!” I don’t know what you’ve been smoking Buckwheat, but we’ve got a serious problem here. Rygel: Nothing a good meal won’t solve I’m sure! John: What is up with you? Rygel: Up? Everything’s up! Everything’s – UPUPUP!
John: Have you seen D’Argo? Rygel: D’Argo? I don’t know. Nobody’s here. Not even Pilot! I was quite frantic at first. Then I realized – I quite liked being on my own! John: Yeah, that’s the way I usually prefer you, too. But right now, we stick together.
John: That is not funny. That is not funny Rygel! Look I gotta get out of here before I end up like you! Rygel: What? Handsome with a great sexual prowess?
John: Okay Alice. Once more into the looking glass.
Zhaan: We can’t find them Pilot. False information yet again. Pilot: The DRDs still show Officer Sun on Tier 2. Rygel outside the center chamber. D’Argo in- Chiana: -competent. You got it wrong, four-arms. They’re nowhere. Pilot: Your inability to locate them does not negate the fact that they are there. Chiana: Oh… Zhaan: Then why can’t we see them? Pilot: Because – John: Because you don’t have X-ray vision. Do you?
Zhaan: I’ve always wondered what could be beyond height and width, depth and time. John: Nausea.
John: You’ll be happy to know – we have a plan. Chiana: I’ll be happy to know if it works.
D’Argo: Have you ever heard of anything like this happening before? John: D’Argo, I haven’t heard of anything like anything before. My planet doesn’t even go to the moon anymore.
John: Just go up. Chiana: What if the creature’s waiting? John: Then piss it off. Chiana: How? John: Pretend it’s me.
John: HEY MU- much better! Aeryn: You all right? John: Aeryn, this is genius. Aeryn: I modified flight headsets to block out acoustic wavelengths, that’s all. John: It’s not bad for a girl who hates to do homework.
Chiana: Then we started talking and – do you know any good jokes? John: Not besides the one I’m living.
John: You bet your blue ass.
John: No time. Just wait 300 microts then – forward. D’Argo: I have no time-keeping device. John: One-Mississippi-ONE, one-Mississippi-TWO, one-Mississippi-THREE… 300! Forward. D’Argo: One mippippippi… Two mippippippi… Three mippippippi… FOUR mippippippi…
Aeryn: 130 now – Good luck. John: Back at you, baby.
John: Still auditioning for Star Search I see. Rygel: No, I have a new philosophy Crichton. What used to be important, isn’t – and what should be important – never will be! John: Great – that way when this whole thing screws up and we die, you’re not going to be whinging in my ear, right? Chiana: Hey, why don’t you relax. Join in the fun? John: Give me 7 seconds, baby. We’ll come and go together.
Zhaan: Nothing like the taste of death to clear the palate. Aeryn: Mm. I suppose there isn’t a thing here that I couldn’t live on for a cycle. Chiana: Except – except maybe this – D’Argo: No I was assuming because of the lack of taste of that – that it was a garnish. John: Hey those are Grandmother Crichton’s famous buttermilk biscuits! Rygel: What’s in them? John: Self-rising flour, salt, shortening, buttermilk – touch of honey. Zhaan: But we have none of those ingredients John. John: Mm… maybe that’s the problem…