Previously on Farscape.
Aeryn is with child.
Still obsessed, I see.
Did she say anything to you before she left?
I finally figured out wormholes.
You did it.
All that wormhole nonsense.
Yeah. I can get you home.
There she is.
Pilot. Moya looks beautiful.
Aeryn.
You've come back.
I've got Heat Delirium.
Who saved your life? Who?
I did.
He wants asylum.
No!
You're buried. You're dead.
I gave my word that he would not be harmed.
Put your weapons down.
We ask you to choose one spokesperson.
You mean, just pick a captain?
Yes.
So, you could tell me... you were pregnant.
And now on Farscape.
We are sitting at a dead stop in the middle of nothing
because Crichton thinks he can smell a wormhole about to open?
Does anyone else find this vaguely preposterous?
We promised him two arns. We'll give him two arns.
Captain.
You had your turn and now it's mine.
Until we elect a permanent captain, I demand the same respect and obedience...
Aah!
Why did you construct another of those hideous instruments?
My bowels make better music.
Hey. How's it coming?
Almost finished. I'm close to balancing harmonics across the difficult setra chords.
Not you, you ripnitz.
Has Crichton found any wormholes?
Ba boom.
Wormhole in...
Does that nixer really annoy you? - Ocho...
Siete...
No.
Seis...
Cinco...
Quatro...
Tres...
Dos...
Uno.
Tear out page 42.
We're sorry, Commander.
Oh, you know, Pilot.
You and Moya hate wormholes, but thanks for sayin' so.
Do you know what you did wrong?
You mean other than getting up this morning?
Have at it, Cap.
Knock yourself out.
Uh...
Your orders, Captain Rygel?
Have you chosen a flight vector?
Give me another microt with this miserably...
Would you excuse us?
Can I speak to you?
Quite a few things I'd like to say.
There's a lot of things I'd like to hear.
I'd offer to buy you a drink, but...
My quarters.
Frell.
Crichton...
- I don't believe it. - It's a frelling wormhole.
Look at that.
Well done, John.
The frelnik actually predicted a wormhole.
You did it.
Hey, now there's three of us who like you.
Commander, this wormhole is a great deal larger and closer than your assurances.
Back it on up, Pilot. Anything you want.
Excuse me, but there is a chain of command in place.
Whatever, Sparky. Rock on.
All right, Pilot, I think that under the circumstances...
that yes, I agree, we should...
You all right? - Yeah.
What hit us? - Don't know.
Can you move? - My arm!
What happened to the stars?
What happened to the stars?!
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.
Budong! It's gotta be a budong!
Unlikely. We're not moving.
- There's nothing. - Everything's blown.
Pilot, be there.
Okay, I've secured a patch but it won't last long. Sikozu!
When I'm done here.
There are no stars. It's the... the Flax.
The wormhole got us. We're gonna die.
Hey, Captain Chaos...
Try comms now.
Pilote. Como estas, hombre?
Commander, are you all right?
A little south of that. What the hell is goin' on? - Undetermined.
Moya's convulsing unlike anything I have experienced before.
And therein lies our problem.
It's not his fault, Sputnik.
Yes, it's probably yours!
He wasn't the captain.
Pilot, what did we hit?
Nothing.
We weren't moving at the time were we?
Correct. Something hit us.
Well, what you frell-wit?!
There aren't any stars.
I have no external readings.
Not a single sense neuron on Moya's skin is transmitting.
That cannot be right.
It is, you disagreeable...
How can that be right, Pilot?
Something is attacking Moya across all exposed surfaces.
Her skin is burning everywhere at once.
Well, what do we do?
Under the circumstances a hull breach will go undetected.
Perimeter hull search.
Interior. - With Chiana?
Yeah. - With ya.
Has anyone heard from Scorpius?
Scorpius, are you all right?
Physically, yes.
However, I would appreciate being let out of this cell...
Absolutely not!
Grandmama?
Yo, School Lunch Lady, you there?
Great, we got an MIA.
Don't have time to look right now.
D, how about a little space walk?
Ver...
Verdure?
Verdure.
Herbage... Flora...
Herbage.
Flora.
Plant!
Hmm, what kind of plant lives in space?
What kind of plant can grab a Leviathan?
I've never seen anything like this before, have you?
D, it wasn't that long ago I hadn't heard of you.
Looks like Glinda was right.
We got some kinda weird plant, man.
Can you see any stars through its vegetation?
Nah. It's pretty damn deep.
We're going to take some samples.
I suspect inopportune timing, but I require some assistance.
You are not getting out of that cell, Scorpius.
No doubt. However, I believe the fire will not honor that edict.
I'm on my way, Scorpius.
Hey.
What... are you doing?
Fire on a ship is our number one priority, Chiana.
I just happened to get here first.
He's a prisoner.
Door stays closed.
Does he look like he's trying to escape?
Out.
Out!
Okay.
I know you think you're pretty smart.
But we know Scorpius better than you do.
He probably set that fire.
Look down the passageway.
If I can start fires, I am most proficient at it.
Frell!
There's fires everywhere.
It's oozing some kind of gunk dissolving the metal.
Pilot says Moya's fluids are rushing in to protect internal organs.
It's causing ruptures everywhere.
This stuff is killing my eyes.
How come it's not killing your eyes?
It's like an onion. We'll live.
We've got to get it off Moya's skin.
You know what? - What?
We'll blast it off with Lo'La.
Hold it steady.
I am trying, but it's not responding. I need more of your DNA.
You know, I hate this ship.
It's messy.
Whoa.
How bad is the situation?
Do we tell 'em the truth?
Uh-uh.
Truthfully, Pilot, it's nothing we can't handle.
We'll get back to you later on the details.
And we are off the air.
Every measure I take is soon overcome by Moya's pain.
How did you miss the plant?
I didn't.
We assumed it was debris, and quite far away.
When the wormhole distracted us, it snuck up.
Why should a plant be floating so far out here?
I don't know. We'll worry about that later.
Just don't give up.
Aeryn?
If too much of Moya's skin becomes irreparably damaged,
she will not recover.
We'll fix it.
One last chance. You wanna wait for...
What? So Noranti can tell us how to make a great salad? No.
See plant. Kill plant.
That's gotta be on the Luxan coat of arms.
I don't suppose you have a better idea?
Nope.
Well, then hold it steady.
Leak?
Scalon vapor return duct.
Can linger in your bloodstream.
Never stopped you before.
Yeah, well this time I'm pregnant.
Before or...
or after you left Moya?
Before.
Does Crichton know?
Mm.
Nice.
What he doesn't know is that it may not be his.
Oh, you, you mean the other Crichton.
Somebody...
somebody else?
Possibly.
I only found out on the Command Carrier and I haven't had it DNA tested yet.
Your life is...
is so much more interesting than mine.
Can I trust you?
Yeah.
I don't want you to tell John.
No way.
Never. Never. That's... that's your speech.
Come here.
Okay.
If I have calculated the plant depth correctly,
we'll be able to burn right through it without Moya feeling a thing.
Any news from the candy kitchen?
Nothing unexpected.
The plant secretes an acid that dissolves certain types of metal which it then ingests.
The burning in your eyes is due to a waste gas.
Must go a long time in between meals.
No, not really. Think of your wormholes.
Every time it opens, the sudden gravitational presence...
Draws the debris towards it.
Yes. I would... I would think.
She's too smart.
Okay, I'm initiating the firing sequence.
Hmm...
What is it?
Eat... eats...
Cry... tears...
Cry... grow...
I can't understand. - tears...
You ready?
Mm.
What is it? I can't understand.
Eat...
John,
I'm going to tell you something I've never actually put into words before.
I love shooting things.
Don't shoot the plant!
You know what? I'm very good at it.
Crichton, D'Argo, hold you fire.
Stars...
Hold you fire.
Can you hear me? I repeat hold you fire.
See? They didn't even feel it.
Do not shoot the plant.
I repeat, do not shoot the plant.
Well, if it was so important, she should have spoken up sooner.
I tried.
Back up. You say it's gonna eat faster if it's attacked?
It ate its way through the pot rather than be cooked.
Wouldn't you?
I didn't boil the plant, I shot it.
It's dead.
Then why do my eyes still sting?
D, your eyes bugging you?
That's a yes.
Pilot, how's Moya?
No change, Officer Sun.
Perhaps a slight worsening.
She cannot localize the sensations but she still feels the burning.
What's that?
Just a couple of dead roots.
Ah!
Doesn't look dead to me.
It has to be. I killed it.
Moya's pain is increasing.
What is happening?
It's in the frelling ship.
The plant is in the frelling ship.
Pilot, how far has it spread?
I can't tell.
Moya's senses are overloaded.
It could be anywhere.
We'll get it out, Pilot.
I found two of these. Is that helping you at all?
Not much. For once in my life, I wish I had your inferior noses.
Pip, how you doing in there?
I'm... I'm not going up there again.
Can you send... send Rygel next time, okay?
I'm not doing that.
I want... I want my weapons and I want my comm.
They're right here.
Thank... thank you.
Here.
What did you see?
What'd I see?
Was plant. Everywhere.
Up one tier, down... down two tiers.
As far as you can see.
It's okay...
It's... it's my clothes. It's my clothes.
Here, come down. - It's in my clothes.
- All right, calm down. - It's not going to hurt you.
It eats through metal, not flesh.
It... it itches.
All right, I'll help you. - It itches.
It's all through the ship. It's my fault.
Oh well, we all signed off on the plan.
It's probably the first time that's happened.
If we screwed up. We all screwed up.
Come on.
Pilot, what the yotz is wrong with the lights?
I don't know.
Well that's hardly good enough, is it?
Find the problem and fix it.
Chiana, put it away.
It's in the bulkhead, not frelling running around.
Yeah, so far.
What are you doing?
Just checking to see how far it's spread.
So far it's on every frelling tier I've looked at.
You know what? I think it's spawning.
It's not the only one.
You pregnant?
Not me. Aeryn.
Aeryn is pregnant? No.
Yeah, it's the truth.
I swear.
Does John know?
Oh, yeah.
But here's one thing he doesn't know.
The nahl might not be his.
But is she conceived on Talyn, and if it's Crichton's DNA, then it's his, isn't?
Yeah, but it might not be John Crichton's at all.
Well, then who's?
Good question.
Who told you this?
Rygel.
You can't tell anybody, okay?
Hey come on, he deserves to know.
Please, swear you won't tell anybody.
D'Argo?
What is the matter with you?
This Leviathan is in pain.
Dying.
Leviathans are good.
Good things shouldn't have to die.
That's right.
That's why we have to keep working on this plant.
Oh. Oh... itches.
Can't scratch.
Bad to scratch.
I might go blind.
Oh, what to do?
All right.
All right. Here's what we do.
We help your eye and the Leviathan by finding a way to kill the plant.
How?
However we can.
Maybe a poison.
I...
I know lots of poisons.
Yes, I'm sure you do.
Right?
Aeryn?
I'm over here.
Hey.
Uh, I checked the whole lobe.
There's no, uh... there's no plant in Moya's neural tissue.
She's going to be all right.
It means we can save her, right?
Yeah, but we still have other lobes to check.
Right.
Okay.
All right.
Oh, Chiana.
Yeah?
About that conversation that we had before.
What? What conversation?
The one about the, uh...
Oh, the...
Yeah.
I was wondering if you could do me a favor.
Sure.
Could you forget that we had that conversation?
S - sure, but you... you know, you had to tell somebody, so I don't...
Yeah, um...
now I'm... really regretting that I did.
I may not even tell him.
What?
Ever?
Never?
Well, I need to know whose it is first, and...
I can't tell him that I don't know.
So... could you just forget that it happened?
Sure.
Is that okay?
Yeah. Of course... of course it is.
Definitely.
Thanks.
I'm gonna...
Oh, frell!
All right.
You got me here. What do you want?
Watch.
Back up.
Aeryn!
This way.
John, what is it?
Seems that Audrey has taste. She doesn't like Scorpius.
To the right.
What've you got?
Good news as well.
I can't find any traces of the plant in the Neural Cluster.
So it likes eating metal but it doesn't like toubray tissue.
Aeryn, what the hell was that?
Are you okay?
Aeryn, talk to me.
Give me a microt, Crichton.
Listen, Pilot, the Neural Cluster.
Pilot?
Could be his cooling rods.
Could just be his personality.
Let's just hope it's these rods.
How's the damage to Moya?
Contained to a small section of one lobe.
There should not be any loss of brain function.
What about the plant?
Why wasn't there any in the Neural Cluster?
Because there is no metal in the toubray.
But there is metal in the electrolyte regulators.
And when they jammed, the synapses overloaded.
I wish to assist however I can.
There is no need for these restraints.
I believe you. The others don't.
It's working.
Crichton, it's working.
Yup. There you go. We got lucky.
It's definitely the rods.
Is that all we have?
It may not be enough.
I'll see how far I can dilute them down.
John?
Yeah.
I know Aeryn's pregnant.
Chiana told me.
Chiana.
Rygel told her.
So the whole ship knows?
Well, I don't think Moya does, but, uh...
Go ahead.
Aeryn isn't sure if the child is John Crichton's.
The thought had crossed my mind.
Doesn't matter.
So what do you think?
I think that either way, you're going to get hurt.
So, uh...
look after yourself.
Thanks.
Oh.
Hmm...
We're not interested in its flavor, you...
I'm not going to insult you.
No, no, no, no.
It's more like hindrati petal tea.
Ooh, I can feel the fungus dying as they mingle in my mouth.
Concentrate.
We know it works as an aerosol, but which element?
Or is it the compound as a whole?
That is what we have to solve.
In a casserole, no.
But if stewed properly, I believe that this plant
may compliment a variety of meat dishes.
You defy the whole theory of natural selection.
Do I?
Listen to me.
These people are trying to save this ship and us.
Now, if their plan fails, we need to know why this works.
You are here. Why didn't you respond?
You were meant to be checking the circulation.
You do it.
Air flow is still functioning.
John and Aeryn are clear to go.
Let's not spill any of this Scorpy juice. It's all we got.
Got it.
Rygel, you're often insufferable.
But, uh...
...it's not your fault.
I was Captain.
Yes, you were, and, uh Pilot's Pilot and Moya's a Leviathan.
No matter what orders you give,
they're not going to fly into something they can't sense.
But this plant. This fungus.
Didn't register.
Still...
I was in charge.
There are so many other reasons why you should hate yourself at the moment.
Like sulking while others are out there, risking their lives.
Now monitor the air flow.
Pilot, we gonna be okay in there?
Tiering fan filters in the atmospheric scrubber
allows a dampening of air flow.
Yeah, it's all very PBS. We'll take that as an affirmative.
So, you wanna talk?
I appreciate you waiting for this appropriate time and place.
Yeah, I got pretty good at waiting.
I can't believe this is all we have.
Sikozu and Noranti thinned it out as much as they could.
All right. They're in position.
I'll let you know when the vapor trail arrives.
At the moment, all there is is this hungry plant and my frelling inability to breathe.
I'm as far away from you, Hamman side, as I can get.
It doesn't look good.
Just hang tough, Pip.
It may be a little while.
Better cut that in half.
Even the DRDs have given up.
The fungus is everywhere.
Hopefully that'll change as soon as this Scorpy juice evaporates into the air stream.
You know we don't have a contingency.
Eh, this'll work.
Unless that plant can mutate in five minutes what could go wrong?
Damn! I did not just say that.
Guys, we got a problem.
The witch's brew is down the drain.
Aeryn, we got to get out of here.
Aeryn!
Oh, God.
Does it hurt? - Mm-hmm.
Where?
Where it's bleeding.
Crichton? When is your fahrbot wormhole due to open again?
Why?
We've drifted directly atop its coordinates.
The Captain says, abandon ship.
D'Argo, can your vessel pull us clear? Buy us time?
I hardly believe it's worth the effort.
This Leviathan is gone.
Lo'la could move Moya, but is it worth the risk?
Yes.
This old demon has isolated the plant-killing compound.
Tell them!
Solanterum fobex.
Tingles on the palate.
Mildly radioactive in quantity.
So what? We're out of coolant rods.
Don't you people know your own ship?!
We have solanterum!
Solanterum is a toxic absorbing regulator within Moya's filter system.
Pipes of it run all the way through this...
Okay, okay. We got it already.
John, how long till your wormhole?
Too far away to tell.
But it's coming.
All right, 1812.
Even spacing, all tiers, no gaps. Cannons set to minimum.
Tell all your cousins. Go do it.
You sure you wanna be here?
Yup. My skin reflects radiation.
We don't tan, but we don't burn either.
Aeryn?
I believe I've set a simple control sequence
to fire all DRDs simultaneously.
All right, come on back. - I'll stay and activate.
Unless you'll agree to trust Scorpius.
No.
Aeryn, one word.
Radiation.
I can handle it.
And what about the baby?
Volunteers?
Even minimal ion exposure breaks down three of my internal organs.
I doubt I shall survive until I am needed.
Okay.
Hey, Fluffy.
Captain going down with the ship?
You wish.
Just don't frell it up.
So, won't need SPF. You sure this is going to work?
Nope. But Aeryn said it would.
Something about you wanting to have more babies?
Fortunate this fungus causes you so much mucus.
Excellent. Just hold it steady. Here we go.
It's like a wind tunnel in here.
Yeah.
Can't be helped.
Filter's gotta be off and we gotta stop this fan from spinning.
All right. Okay.
That'll keep the stuff from getting sucked back in here and being cleansed.
We've gotta keep the mist out of the ship, or we're toast.
You get to it!
That one first.
Officer Sun was quite clear in her...
If this goes bad, please die first so my last moment can be joyous.
Whoo-hoo!
Ryg...
be ready for my signal.
If we ignite the purple haze too soon, the radiation won't penetrate Moya.
Too late, we'll blast her apart.
Acknowledged.
It'll make me stronger.
Radioactive mist makes you stronger?
Perhaps my final moments will be joyous.
It's working.
We're pushing Moya clear.
D'Argo, wormhole in four...
three...
dos...
uno...
We're fine. Thanks for the big warning.
Now, get it done.
As a single element?
Solanterum needs to be heated to achieve effectiveness.
1812, poll the brothers.
Everybody seeing the mist?
That's an affirmative.
The mist should be through the ship
on every tier. - Just go!
All DRDs stand by.
Rygel, batter up.
Ah! Wormhole!
Too close to wormhole!
Pilot, calm down.
Fire the DRDs!
Rygel!
No, get away!
I'm trying to help!
Too much chemical and the explosion will destroy us all.
Crichton, do you copy?
Damn it, Aeryn, what do you want me to do?!
Rygel!
Let me go!
Rygel!
Crichton?!
Gotcha!
- I gotcha.
I'm slipping!
Rygel! - Pull me back!
Shut off the fans!
What fans?!
Shut down the fans!
Shut off the fans!
Nobody told me about any fans!
Crichton!
Pull me back! Pull me back!
I'm trying!
Please, I'm slipping!
Oh, fan. Fan.
Pip, just hang on!
Rygel, shut the fans off!
I don't know how!
Pilot, fan! Fan, fan, fan!
Shut the damn fans off!
Quit wiggling.
Just hang on.
Frelling fan.
You bastard!
How about that?
Did that do anything?
Yeah. The fan's off.
It is?
Yeah.
We did it.
I did it.
Hey, you still got your pants on.
Well, that'd be a first.
That's a good look.
Very funny.
Very, very funny.
The voting for the captaincy is complete.
With Moya abstaining and everyone except for Scorpius casting a vote,
including myself, our total comes to eight.
The tally is as follows.
One vote for Dominar Rygel the Sixteenth.
One vote for Officer Aeryn Sun.
Astonishing as it seems, Scorpius received one vote.
One vote was cast for the Divine Eternal.
And finally, four votes for our new and deserving Captain...
Ka D'Argo.
Well done.
I didn't want to tell you about the pregnancy until I was sure.
Sure you were pregnant, or sure who the father was?
Chiana will be killed.
Yeah, it's Chiana's fault. Why don't you blame her?
It's the other Crichton's?
There's no distinction in my mind anymore.
Okay, now you've confused me.
All right.
Military campaigns can last for many cycles.
Imagine if even a portion of a female unit fell pregnant.
Those of us born on a Command Carrier
can retain an embryonic fetus for up to seven cycles.
So, this could be from...
Perhaps four cycles before I met you.
And only a surgeon can release the stasis so the baby can grow.
And that's why you left?
I didn't even make it that far.
Aeryn...
I figure a relationship,
the kind we're not having, is based on trust.
I'm so sorry.
Yeah. Me, too.
'Cause you don't trust me.
So I don't know how to trust you.
I think I've earned your trust.
I would put my life in your hands.
But not my heart.
So what's it going to take?
What do I have to do?
Just come back.
When you have your story straight.