02x04 - Robots

[bunniefuu]

All right, now explode, full power.

100%.

That is 100%.

PSI of those jabs is averaging 129.

On the power scale, that's...

Kitten. Sad kitten.

Left up and sting it.

(grunting)

(motorcycle roaring)

Sylvester: Speaking of sting, Chet again.

And an a.m. drop-off.

See you again tonight?

Sure thing. Thanks for the lift.

Yeah.

(motorcycle roaring)

What's wrong with your bike?

New clutch is on back order.

Toby: I know we've both moved on, but she's parading her new fling right in my face?

She's just so cold and mechanical.

You want to distract yourself from her, then grow a set and focus.

(shouting, grunting)

There you go. Now you're getting it, kid!

(grunting)

Woman: Hello?

Excuse me.

Can we help you?

Deputy Homeland Director Katherine Cooper.

Where is... Molina?

I'm Scorpion's Homeland liaison now.

Deputy director.

Downgrade.

She cutting our funding, too?

Your funding is intact.

She just doesn't want to... interact with you, because of the prior... interaction.

Sylvester: She wanted to leave me to die in a jail.

She's easily alienated.

Toby: You seem edgy.

Why are you so edgy?

I'm not edgy. I'm just...

I'm pressed for time, and I have a classified mission to assign.

And it smells so bad in here.

Is that... intentional?

That is Toby.

Because this is a black operation, my information is need-to-know.

Walter O'Brien, Cabe Gallo, Happy Quinn, join me in my SUV.

Toby: Hmm.

You heading north or south?

Ooh, eye flutter on “south.”

Huntington, Long Beach, San Pedro...

San Pedro it is, meaning water.

Sylvester: The ports.

A frigate?

Can we leave now?

And you can only take three of the team, so space is an issue.

A submarine. It's a submarine, isn't it?

Anyway, Homeland needs Scorpion's help for a black-ops nuclear submarine mission deep in international waters off the coast of California?

Ooh.

Walter: They'll be needing me to code?

I'll get my laptop.

Happy: And I will be building something, so I'll get my tools.

Sylvester: And I will get my party hat because I don't have to go on a submarine.

Cabe: And I'll be going to keep anyone from wanting to k*ll them.

Welcome to Scorpion.

I'm still reading an edge. What's up with that?

You just disclosed details on a classified mission.

I just need to know that you'll keep this confidential.

What's confidential?

Who's this?

Uh, he's, um, my... my friend.

Ray: Hey, buddy.

Sylvester: He's using my mug.

He's staying here?

You need to get...

Mr. Saigon out of here.

Things are dicey between Scorpion and Director Molina, and you can't afford any more... issues.

Walter, we never discussed Ray staying in the Airstream, and he doesn't present a professional image, so...

You got to go.

For the good of the team.

Ray: Okay.

Just need to get the Grem out of lockdown and then... on my way.

I'll take you to the lot.

Sweet. Thank you.

Actually, if you could drive my car back, I would... appreciate it. They won't release a car in the impound lot to someone with a suspended license, which...

I don't even understand that.

Oh, this just keeps getting better.

That's your new friend, and you're just gonna kick him to the curb? Just like that?

Yes.

I am surrounded by robots.

Now that we have some privacy...

We don't. I'm on comms with the team. We'll stay that way on the sub, piggybacking on the antennae.

Cooper: Fine. But... under no circumstances will you disclose the location of the sub once you're on board.

The Navy insists that remains classified.

50 bucks I can figure out their exact location anyway.

You want to bet? It's a bet. We got a bet?

You have a serious problem.

No duh.

Cooper: We're going to San Pedro to ferry you out to a special ops nuclear sub.

The mission is to analyze a Vulture, an ocean floor data hunter, attached to an underwater fiber optic cable on the floor of the Pacific Ocean.

Attached by whom?

Not yet determined.

But the device is tapping a highly secure line between the United States Department of Defense and the Chinese government in Shanghai.

Happy, we need you to build an extension to the submarine's arm.

We'll use it to tap a cable from Walter's computer into the listening device.

Walter, you'll hack into the device's mainframe and identify whoever is intercepting our communications.

Man: Welcome aboard the XB-4.

I'm Captain Steven Jones.

This is Ensign Nathan Hall, our Bullgeorge.

He'll be looking after you riders during this mission.

We have eight other crew members in the Forward Operational Compartment.

Ballast t*nk, trim t*nk, reactor control, turbine control.

It's gearhead heaven.

Jones: And all highly classified.

What you see here stays here.

This mission is top secret. No one outside of Langley knows our objective or location.

Captain, we're rigged for dive.

Very well. Take the Conn, submerge the ship.

I have the Conn!

Ahead two-thirds.

Dive, dive, dive. Five-degree down bubble.

Make your depth 200 feet. Come left to course 270.

This, uh, crew is different from most of the m*llitary we have worked with.

We get 18 months of training before ever seeing the inside of a sub.

A lot of us here are nuclear engineers.

It makes the hierarchy a little different from the rest of the m*llitary.

We do have a saying, "When hundreds of feet below, the power goes to he who knows""

Or she.

Or she.

Zing. Happy.

Great use of her humor programming.

I need to check on the crew. Give me just a second.

Toby: Walter, what's your speed?

Uh, I estimate about 20 knots.

My lunch.

It's conveniently shaped.

And our best way of figuring out their location.

They left San Pedro at 8:25.

(whooshing sound)

Roughly 20 knots for 30 minutes.

Sub would head for closest, deepest water.

That would be right off the Palos Verdes shelf break.

Putting you 15 miles east of Catalina Island.

Walter: Miss.

Ah.

See, I don't like the mojo of playing Battleship with an actual battleship.

It's not Battleship. It's Battle Sub.

32 degrees north... (whistles)

117 degrees west.

(whooshing sound)

Point Loma?

Call that a hit.

Walter, I'm gonna sink your battle sub.

Please, don't harm the... pickles.

Nathan: Hey, we're dark.

No outgoing communication.

Half my team's on the mainland.

They will be the only half not incarcerated if information is leaked. Your orders to disallow communications are illogical.

Toby and Sylvester are part of this team.

I have my orders. You have my instructions.

And you will follow them.

(crunch)

I think Captain just Crunched their comms.

I'm picking up bits and pieces, but I can barely make anything out.

Follow me.

I thought they were supposed to be working with us.

m*llitary protocol doesn't have a lot of flexibility.

Let's say we toe the line.

("Flea Market Montgomery" song playing)

I still can't make anything out.

This cancels our bet. No bet. Bet off.

Whatever. I'm just trying to enjoy my off time.

♪ To the left, to the right ♪

Sylvester and Man: ♪ It's just like, it's just like ♪
♪ A mini mall, hey, hey... ♪

Paige: You got to be kidding me.

Ma'am, it's not my problem that your husband doesn't pay his parking tickets.

He is not my husband.

And $1,200 is $1,100 over the value of the car.

I'd counter that you can't put a price on the value of a home.

Just a few forms to fill out.

Pen.

I'll handle it.

Cool.

Nathan: Let's see if you're worth your salt.

The rods and clamps I affixed to the main jib will act like the arms of an arthroscopic surgery device.

Extending now.

We'll use the camera to find the communication port on the listening device.

There.

Not bad.

Walter: Access port exposed.

Happy, connect the cable.

And we're in.

Uploading their interface.

Toby calls us robots, but, tell me, what's more fascinating than a robot?

Oh, he endlessly analyzes feelings, Sylvester is a mess of feelings, Paige helps us sort them.

But without the metal gears of the machine, it doesn't run.

Cabe: I guess my role is to kick the machine when it starts talking and doesn't focus.

Nathan: We've analyzed the exterior construction of the device-- Swiss metalwork, Dutch wiring-- but no clue as to who put it there.

I'm in the main interface.

I thought this would take an hour at least.

Why are you stopping?

That seemed a little too easy.

Happy, detach the cabling for the device.

Aye, aye.

What are you doing?

We're in the middle of a mission, damn near the end.

My instinct says that this is a dummy interface, a lure to draw us into the system to plant some malware onto your sub or something worse.

Worse like what?

Aborting the mission requires a direct order from the captain.

Then get it, fast, 'cause I have a feeling we want to be as far away from that device as possible.

Walter, tell me what's happening.

Sir.

(boom)

Whoa.

(alarm beeping)

♪ Hey, hey, don't stop ♪
♪ Let's make it a dance, come on now... ♪

(static) Whoa, whoa, whoa.

Turn that down. Listen to this.

Jones: Flooding... engine room!

Something's wrong.

Come on, Happy. Not funny.

I told you we shouldn't have played Battle Sub.

Nathan: Reactor's scrammed.

We've lost propulsion.

Lost depth control.

Prepare for impact! We're gonna hit the ocean floor!

♪ Scorpion 2x04 ♪
Robots
Original Air Date on October 12, 2015

Is everyone okay?

Walter: Fine.

Happy: Good.

How did this happen?

There was an expl*sive device on the Vulture to keep it from being hacked or captured.

We need to do a vessel diagnostic.

Happy: I'll help. Electric has failed.

Engines have failed.

We're settled at a 40-degree angle.

Well, the size of the blast was likely enough to flood the compartments between here and the rest of the crew.

Communications are out.

And my team doesn't know where we are because you k*lled our comms.

It gets worse. The Navy won't know that we're missing until we don't arrive at our rendezvous point in six hours, and for security purposes only the people on the submarine know the course that was charted.

(tapping in Morse code)

Thank God they're alive.

(tapping in Morse code continues)

"Electric down.

"Trying to get the hatch open.

We're compromised."

(tapping in Morse code continues)

"No generator."

No oxygen system.

The shared ventilation system provides all of us with roughly 150 cubic feet of oxygen.

Divide that by 13, each consuming 1.5 cubic feet of oxygen per hour, we have one hour and ten minutes of oxygen left.

Cabe: I'm a Marine-- I spent a lot of time on a ship.

You have immersion suits down here for underwater escape.

Uh, we do, but not in this compartment.

Then we need to get a message out.

Where's the communications panel? Maybe I can fix it.

No, we're supposed to be running silent.

I believe our directive has changed.

The communications?

In the bow, past that bulkhead.

Cabe: Let me go check.

We're gonna need all hands.

All hands.

Happy, come in.

XB-4, come in.

Toby: Yes, I'm here.

I don't care what meeting she's in.

Tell Director Cooper there's an emergency.

Giving me the runaround.

Then run around her.

We're gonna go see this Cooper.

Your car is in the shop.

That was painful.

This whole experience has been painful.

Odd.

Most people who come in here are real upbeat.

(phone ringing)

There you go.

Your keys.

You've got good news for me, right? I've won the lottery?

Wrong. Where are the keys to your car?

I need them now.

They're in my purse.

Then you need to go to Cooper's office right now.

I'm gonna explain later, but Cabe, Walter and Happy are in serious trouble.

Okay.

Where the hell is he?

Ray! I got to go!

Oh, God.

Hey, they got doughnuts in the break room.

Paige?

Okay.

(metallic creaking)

(panting): The water is freezing.

Yeah, well, at this depth the temperature can't be more than 28 degrees.

You have an interesting breadth of knowledge.

The entire system was shorted in the expl*si*n.

I've circumvented a number of blown circuits to see if there's any way to bring this back to life.

Okay, Cabe, on my call, hit the breaker on the wall.

Go.

(electric humming)

We good?

(electric crackling)

Happy: We are not good! Keep it out of the water, or we're all dead!

(electric crackling)

(grunts)

(gasping breaths)

That was close.

It's fried.

We have zero communication with the surface.

Toby: The only way we're gonna find them is if we pinpoint their location.

Before they went dark, we had Point Loma.

Walter said they were at 20 knots.

I'm saying good guess.

This is an arc representing 35 minutes, 22 knots from Point Loma.

We don't know exactly where the secret underwater cable is that connects the U.S. and China, but if it follows a similar route to the Trans-Pacific Express cable...

And there's... a very rough guess as to the whereabouts of our sub.

With a bite taken out of it.

(tires screech)

Oh... God.

(phone rings)

Yeah, I'm here. What do you have?

The rough coordinates for Cooper-- I'm texting them now.

(tapping in Morse code)

They're saying the sub has listed too far.

The silt is blocking their port hatch.

They can't get out.

Ask them from now on to keep it to good news only.

I will not suggest that to the captain.

So they have the escape suits in their compartment and no way out, and we have a way out but no escape suits.

Even if we did have the immersion suits, it's doubtful we could survive in water this cold.

You'd have ten minutes before severe hypothermia set in, and that's if you made it to the surface.

Which is highly unlikely, given that we're 300 feet down.

What's the depth rating of those survival suits?

225 feet.

Here.

Nathan: There seems to be some kind of plan forming here, and as commanding officer, I'm the one who should be making these decisions.

Well, I thought the power goes to he who knows.

And we know how to build one of those suits from scratch.

You just listed all the ways that it's certain death.

Sitting here is certain death-- what we're talking about is just likely death.

I should volunteer then.

I'll go.

I'm the biggest and most immune to hypothermia.

You know if you leave, there's a good chance that you die before any of us.

I'm the most expendable.

I can't risk Happy and you.

And you know the sub.

Greater good.

Greater good.

Cooper: The Navy isn't going to send a rescue unless the sub misses its rendezvous or there's proof of failure.

The Navy has absolutely no evidence there's anything gone wrong with this mission.

We were in communication with the sub when it went down.

Well, I told them that.

They're of the opinion your team was listening in on an illegal signal that just happened to break down.

Nothing to warrant a rescue mission.

My people are smarter than your people.

I have coordinates for where the sub might be.

You don't want to wake up tomorrow knowing you could have helped save 13 people who d*ed because you followed the rules.

I feel like the Michelin Man.

Walter: Okay, Cabe, once you reach the surface... You have one cartridge.

Parachute flare-- visible for 30 miles.

When you get help, get the Navy to send a Deep Submergence Rescue Vehicle out of San Diego.

Regardless of where we're at, it'll take at least 150 minutes to get here.

We'll be out of oxygen.

Happy: After you get rescued-- and you will get rescued-- you get this list to Toby.

It's everything they'll need to make an oxygen t*nk they can load down to us.

It'll give us enough air to stay alive until the rescue.

All contingent, of course, on you surviving the ascent.

I hadn't thought about that for a second.

Thanks for the reminder.

Okay, exhale slowly and continuously on your way up.

You won't have to worry about the bends, because the sub has the same air pressure as the surface.

Should be a quick trip up.

You'll have ten minutes from when you enter the water until hypothermia and, uh... death.

Buck up, kiddo. Didn't you join the Navy for adventure?

He should be breaking the surface now.

If he's not, he's drowning.

(gasping)

God... please let this work.

If we don't hear from Cabe soon, one of us will go up next.

No pressure suits?

I don't like the odds of making it to the surface.

Versus the odds of death in here?

We have 40 minutes of air left.

Officer: I'm two nautical miles into the search zone.

Haven't seen anything.

They've been searching 15 minutes and only covered three percent of the target zone.

Your coordinates cover 50 square miles of open ocean.

It's gonna take a while.

Toby, you got to narrow it down.

Toby: We're working with a half-eaten hoagie and a piece of chalk.

It's not like we're mind readers.

What it is like... is a mini mall.

You have finally gone insane.

No, the video I was watching.

♪ Aw, yeah, come shop ♪
♪ With us ♪

While you were guessing locations, I was watching that video.

When you made your second guess to Walter, he was singing, ♪ It's just like ♪
♪ It's just like a mini mall. ♪

And when you made your third and correct guess, he was saying living rooms, dinettes.

The time between those two lyrics is 14 seconds.

We now know the distance they traveled between two spots and how long it took 'em to cover that ground.

Which gives us their accurate speed, not a guess.

15.38 knots, not 20. Walter overestimated.

Their location is 117.03 west and 32.05 north.

I'm way out of range of those new coordinates, but there is a commercial vessel in that area.

I'll reach out to them.

Where are you going?

I'm getting us a chopper and getting us on that rescue boat.

(beeps)

(deep horn blares)

Help!

(clanging)

Did you hear that?

Cabe.

Oh, that tough son of a bitch made it.

Thank God.

Sir, phone.

Sylvester: Cabe, we can't believe you're alive.

Cabe: We can celebrate later. If we want to save the others, we got to work fast.

I need an air t*nk the size of a hot water heater, a winch from a tow truck, three brass circa 1935-40 electric fans, a waterproof box, a GoPro camera, a 14-inch diameter pipe and a battery pack.

Real quick-- how did Happy suggest we get this stuff?

Mr. Quinn.

Fellas. Been a while.

No time to chat. Happy's in trouble, we need your help and a load of equipment.

Starting with the winch on your tow truck.

We got to move fast. Paige'll be here with the chopper in ten minutes.

Chopper?

(tapping)

They don't know how much longer they can last.

I didn't know you knew Morse code.

I didn't before I got on the sub, but I figured it out.

Our time frame for the oxygen supply didn't account for the deeper breathing caused by fear.

I'm ashamed to say that my breathing might be similarly impacted right now.

But somehow... yours doesn't seem to be.

We're not m*llitary.

We take our orders from math and science.

Right now we know the odds of survival are slim, but we know that mathematically there's a chance.

Some people call us robotic, mechanical.

(tapping resumes)

But in situations like this, our constitution is a benefit.

"Still safer than an airplane"?

Why is he communicating that?

We know subs are safer because there are more airplanes in the water than submarines in the sky.

Why would a submarine be in the sky? It makes no sense.

Somehow they're managing to joke.

Humor-- at a time like this-- that isn't something a captain would normally order.

Not standard operating procedure.

So strict adherence to protocol isn't always the best... tack.

What are you getting at?

An unconventional solution.

Okay.

Uh...

Now, mathematically, their lives-- yours and Happy's as well-- are collectively more valuable than mine.

Are the oxygen levels getting to you now, O'Brien?

If we flood the chamber with an exact amount of water, we can cause the sub to correct position, freeing the trapped sailors' hatch.

Just 18 degrees would be enough to get the hatch out of the silt.

The others have immersion suits-- they could leave via the hatch, reaching the surface.

This chamber-- the one that we're in-- is a closed space.

If we flood it even partially, the rising water will compress the air above it.

We breathe in that compressed air, we can no longer swim to the surface like Cabe did.

We'll die from the bends.

We're trapped.

That is right.

We'll need to leave in a pressurized chamber.

That means waiting for a sub rescue that we don't have enough oxygen to wait for.

That's why we should make you both improvised suits like we did for Cabe.

You both leave and I will flood the chamber.

Nine people escape the boat, oxygen usage drops, leaving me a few more minutes of air.

Anyone could make the same calculations.

I don't think anyone else makes that calculation, and you still won't have enough air to keep you alive until rescue comes.

In order to flood this compartment with the exact amount of water, you need to close the hatch, too. That is a two-person job. I'm staying.

No. I can figure out a way to get it... I'm staying.

And you'll need a Navy person to work the locking device.

It's really a three-person job.

Three of us working together maximizes the odds of success.

(helicopter blades whirring)

How did my quiet day turn into this?

Come on. Time's a-wasting.

When the water gets to this level, we close the hatch, okay?

Ready?

Okay.

One, two...

(grunts)

Damn it! Not good.

That's just what Happy says.

(all grunting)

Come on.

Lean into it!

(grunting)

Not smooth, but effective.

I hope so. I had to guess the silt density.

(laughs) We're shifting.

Whoa! (laughs)

(tapping)

It worked!

Their hatch is clear.

"Thank you. And Godspeed."

I have to agree that personality-wise you don't seem too similar. She can be very, uh, rigid.

She was chatty when she was really young.

She was talking in full sentences at seven months old.

I got her a dollhouse when she wasn't even three yet.

She put in her own wiring with working lights.

I was terrified it was gonna be a fire hazard.

I... pulled them all out.

Next day, she rewired it.

Had to take it away.

That's about when she started getting quiet.

I should've just let her do what she was gonna do.

(grunts)

You like my daughter, don't you?

I love your daughter.

All right.

Then just let her do what she's gonna do.

One more should do it.

Thank you.

You okay?

(sighs) Honestly?

No.

This is my first day on the field.

I'm in the middle of the ocean, on a trawler, trying to save lives.

It just might be too big a first bite for a desk jockey.

Before Scorpion, I was a waitress.

Feeling overwhelmed is part of the job, but it's a job I learned I can handle.

You'll learn, too.

Guys?

Jones: Yes! Yes!

(whoops)

Either the ocean is lousy with mermen or those are our submariners!

Get these men out of the water!

(tapping)

The crew made it.

Walter: Hopefully your t*nk's on its way, Happy.

So now our lives are in Toby's hands.

(panting)

Fantastic.

Sylvester: They're still stuck down there without enough oxygen.

Three people use six liters per minute, seven if they're stressed, which, of course, they are.

There are 122 liters of oxygen left, which is 17 minutes, give or take a few seconds. Rescue sub's 35 minutes out. The t*nk that we made gives them 45 minutes of oxygen.

If this works, it saves their lives.

We're hooked up!

Let's go!

(whirring)

Dear God, let this work.

There it is!

My daughter's in there.

In case we don't make it out of here, I just want to say I'm not really a robot.

Thank you for clarifying.

I did know you weren't made of circuitry.

We both play a good game of denial.

It might be the one thing where I can b*at you, but...

...right now my dad is up there trying to save me.

A man I've been looking for for 25 years.

I just never expected to want to live as badly as I do right now.

I saved nine sailors' lives instead of us.

I... supported that act with calculations.

But perhaps there was... some sentimentality attached.

And, uh, you let that certifiable lunatic stay in our garage.

(chuckles)

Uh...

Maybe we're changing.

Maybe... maybe I'm not a robot either.

You're not normal people, are you?

(creaking)

Greetings submerged. Toby Curtis here, talking to you underwater.

If you can hear me, open the sub's garbage chute.

We're connecting an oxygen t*nk now.

So, if you feel a little bump, that's just us.

If you can't hear me, it means you're already dead.

Sylvester: Don't say that.

Oh, God.

Toby: If they're goners, whatever I say won't mean a poot.

Sylvester: You're still recording.

Okay, you heard him.

Yeah, let's get to it.

Okay, I don't see the disposal unit opening.

Come on!

There!

Forward!

Now!

(door clacks open)

They did it!

I have never been so happy to smell garbage.

Ah, some nice solders there.

Wiring's not great.

A good sized t*nk.

Overall, I'd rate the craftsmanship as pretty good.

Okay, so, how big's the t*nk?

About eight feet by three feet.

Can we use this t*nk as a getaway vehicle?

There's not enough propulsion with the three of us in it.

The t*nk would never even make it to the surface.

It would just sit there, suspended about 100 feet off the bottom.

Yeah, but the t*nk gives us 298 cubic liters of 20% oxygen.

Should be enough for about 45 more minutes.

(sniffing) Something wrong?

The-the-the... the air.

Smells like the fridge in our garage.

It's sulfur.

I thought it was coming from the trash, but it's not.

It's coming from underneath this compartment.

It's lead/acid batteries. The seawater must have leaked in, caused a chemical reaction that produced sulfur.

Ah, the sulfur's not the problem.

The same reaction could also produce chloride.

That's the problem.

What are you doing?

Walter's right.

It's chloride.

Okay.

I've been around enough batteries to know breathing in that stuff will dissolve your lungs.

Okay, so, we don't have 45 minutes anymore.

It's more like five.

Okay, sailor, we're down, but we're not out!

Ensign? What are you going?

There's a very specific protocol on this sub.

Self-destruct?

If our enemies capture this sub, its technology could be used to k*ll thousands of Americans or our allies.

In the event that the craft is disabled, the last officer on board has to initiate the sequence.

Happy: But the Navy's on their way.

They'll recover the ship.

Yeah, but what if they can't?

What if they run into logistical problems, which is very possible?

What if whoever planted the device that we came here for tries to get it as soon as we leave?

That's why the protocol's in place, and that's why we have to follow it.

What's the maximum countdown for the self-destruct protocol?

Maximum five minutes.

Initiate countdown.

In five minutes, either the air fills with poison, or we explode.

(alarm blaring)

Guess we got to get out of here in four and a half.

(alarm sounding)

Happy: Walt, we've got less than a minute now.

This is when you normally think of something brilliant, so how's that coming?!

An escape pod.

The oxygen t*nk could be used as an escape pod.

I asked for brilliant.

I already told you there's too many bodies for buoyancy.

We're just sit gonna there in the water.

Yeah, normally we would, but in our present circumstances, we're likely to be propelled upward from the blast.

You really think we can ride the expl*si*n of this submarine?

Yes.

Maybe. I don't know.

Or we die.

Okay, look, get up the trash chute and into the t*nk.

Come on, Happy, let's go.

(grunting)

Go. Go. (grunting)

It's not gonna be comfortable.

Okay, you go.

I need to make sure the ship goes down.

So you're gonna rigidly adhere to the rules even if it costs you your life?!

It's my duty.

Your duty is to save as many lives as possible. That includes your own.

Okay? Okay?!

Okay, okay. You first.

All right.

Okay.

(grunts)

(panting)

Come on! Come on!

I don't fit!

Come on.

Okay, just relax.

Relax? Why?

It's an out-of-the-box solution, and it may sting a little.

(cr*ck) Aah!

Yeah.

Aah!

You can fit through the hole now.

Oh!

All right, Happy, get us out of here.

Just reversing the spin on these fans!

Any way we can go any faster?

No. Now shut up and brace yourself.

(coughing)

Just talked to the rescue sub.

Ten minutes out.

(seagulls cawing)

(expl*si*n)

(water gurgling)

Oh, no.

Happy.

Cabe, tell me this didn't just happen.

Happy: Hey, dummies!

A little help?!

They're alive.

Thank God.

Couldn't have done it without you, desk jockey.

Good work, fellas.

I just wanted to say, uh, thank you.

You know, you're a... you're a hero.

Well, I'm not a hero. It's just math.

I don't know. One thing I've learned about you is you don't always live by the numbers.

Sometimes you trust yourself, believe in your team despite the numbers.

There's another variable in there that you're not copping to.

Hey.

Let's go downstairs. I want to show you something.

Toby: There he is. Big Ray!

Where you been?

I just hitchhiked from Gardena.

Toby: Whoa.

Ray: Yeah, I guess I'm not normally a person people stop for, so...

Ray? Hi.

Hey.

I'm...

Excuse me, fellas.

Ray, I'm sorry I ditched you this morning.

We... It was an emergency.

Not a problem. In fact, I saved you a doughnut.

Here.

Oh.

Still hungry.

I just...

Thanks. Um, how about I, um... I get you a burger?

Please sit. Yeah?

A burger?

Want to sit down?

Yeah, sounds great.

Makes up for a 22-mile walk.

Sure, it's not as nice as the one you had, but... thought you and I could restore it together?

I'll be your apprentice.

Like the list you sent from the sub?

I did a good job following the instructions, right?

It's something we could do together with our clothes on.

Do not... shrink me.

And I am not very comfortable with you having in-depth conversations with my father.

I'm just making an effort to be a good friend.

If I tell you to get me a 3/8 wrench, and you get a 5/16, I will hit you with it.

Deal.

So wait a minute.

You're-you're going to college and you're ten?

I know we've got our marching orders from Cooper regarding Ray.

But... I learned a bit about following orders today-- about being robotic is not always the best course.

Well, despite what Cooper said, I don't think she's the kind of person who'd mind.

Ensign Nathan said that he felt there was a variable within me that makes me not as, uh, logical as I think I am.

I'm not sure I agree, but, uh, I have noticed that some of my decision-making isn't the same as it used to be.

I'm trying to determine what's causing the shift.

Any theories?

Contact with humanity.

It's confusing.

I made a decision today that saved nine people's lives by lying.

I always thought that emotional decisions might compromise Scorpion's survival, but today they led to survival.

Maybe it's worth, uh, rethinking other conclusions that I've come to regarding avoiding... emotions.

Ralph: Mom!

I decided this is the class I want-- Robotics.

It makes the most sense to start out with something logical and uncomplicated.

I think, uh...

I think he's right.

Robotics is the smart choice... for now.

Robotics it is.

Uh, but not for everything.

Ray?

You don't have to pack up your stuff.

You can stay as long as you want.

Sweet. Thanks.

Absolutely, buddy.

Wow.

Well, hey, let's get this party started!

Pardon.

Oh.

♪ ♪