04x06 - Queen Scary

[bunniefuu]

Walter: Previously on Scorpion...

We need to bail ourselves out of a half million-dollar debt.

You put Scorpion up as collateral?

The garage?

Everything?

It was either that or leave you in prison.

Sylvester: I know you-- you're the...

reporter from the West Altadenia Shopper.

Patty Logan-- here to get your autograph on this internship release form.

Hey, Patty.

Yep.

Really don't like this development.

I want to be your attorney.

You want to what?

I care about Cabe, and I will scour every lawbook and memorize every archaic regulation to protect him.

I can do this.

I'm nervous to be alone with you.

What could you possibly be nervous about?

My biggest fear is being in a restaurant droning on about genius things and then looking up at your face and then seeing boredom.

♪ Are you all alone?

♪ [tapping out of rhythm]

♪ Yeah...

♪ ♪ And it's all fine...

♪ Isn't her voice beautiful?

♪ Oh...

♪ It's lovely, right?

♪ And I'm okay ♪ ♪ Yeah...

♪ Hey.

What...?

You're listening to a lecture while my friend is playing?

♪ Oh...

♪ I think anything but "yes" would be indefensible.

You can't just drop the science for an hour and enjoy the music?

We're going to see Dr.

Smirl speak next week.

I just, I want to be prepared.

Thank you.

That was my latest.

It's called "Sound in Space." You were amazing.

You sounded beautiful.

I love the new music.

And I love you for coming.

An interesting point of fact about your last song.

Space is a vacuum, so there's no sound in space.

Yes, I did know that.

Oh.

And you still chose that title?

Why don't you go get the car?

Okay.

Oh.

Pleasure meeting you, Amy.

So, he's...

different.

Little bit.

♪ Mr.

Wolfman, go tell Frankenstein...

♪ Ol' Frankie, break him down.

Only child, terrified of fire, socially inept.

I'd say he'd make a poor juror for Cabe's trial.

By those criteria, so would you.

I need concrete basis for dismissal.

Authorities did chase him with pitchforks, so he wouldn't like law enforcement.

Uh, not a fan of Cabe.

Juror dismissed.

You know, this song is weird.

Why does the monster in love ask Mr.

Wolfmen to tell Frankenstein that she likes him?

Why not just tell him herself?

It's not Mr.

Wolfmen.

He's a wolfman, you idiot.

It's a Halloween song.

Pretty sure it's Wolfmen.

Yes, that's right.

It's Chuck Wolfmen.

He has a small insurance office in town and him and his wife are on the school board.

He's a wolfman, putz.

Okay, children, I am going to restart the song and I'll settle this.

♪ Mr.

Wolfman, go tell Frankenstein...

♪ Oh, wow.

I think she said "Wolfmen." Ha.

What does she know?

Let's get back to jury selection.

You guys prepping already for jury selection?

Long way to go before the jury is empaneled.

Pretrial discovery, potential plea negotiations...

And selection is the one place I can help Sly hone his skills.

Since it's Halloween, we figured we'd start with some familiar faces.

Like this handsome bloodsucker.

What the Hades?!

Ralph, no one wants to die by pumpkin.

I'm sorry.

Accidental launch.

It's for my science club's party pumpkin chucking contest.

You know what, time to take off the training wheels.

Let's practice with some actual humans.

Turning the critter into a cyborg?

It's wearable tech.

Transforms kinetic energy from body movement into electrical energy.

Hoping to scale it down to weave into clothing.

Could generate millions of kilowatt-hours, potentially 25% of the energy people use all year.

You could save the planet.

And be lucrative.

Dig Scorpion out of its financial hole.

Well, is there anything I can do to help since I'm the one that dug the hole?

You're gonna b*at this rap, Cabe, and then we'll get our bail money back.

Until then, the only help I need is from my man, Ferret B.

It's a little cramped in there.

I'm gonna see if I can get him a roomier habitat so the little fella can stretch his legs.

He's got pretty short legs.

Happy, do you mind if I ask you a few voir dire questions?

Hoof it, goober.

Now, what did you learn?

Happy is mean.

Can't argue with that.

Paige: Guys, huddle up.

Team, this is Dave Blakely.

I'll let him explain the job, whenever Walter sees fit to join us.

Walter: Coming.

Proceed.

Okay.

Uh, hello, everybody.

I'll be brief.

Right now we have an opportunity to prove something more important than the proof of dark matter, faster-than-light travel, even gene therapy.

Fascinating.

Now, I need your team to help me prove or disprove the existence of ghosts.

They don't exist.

Disproven.

I will send you our bill.

Paige: Walter.

We need the money.

Blakely: And it's good money.

I'm backed by a deep-pocketed production company.

Production?

It's gonna be filmed?

Blakely: Yeah, uh, for the pilot of a new show called...

you ready?

Ghost Grabbers.

Oh, please.

Well, sh**ting will not be obtrusive, okay?

I mean, it's one camera operated by me and I'll do all the B-roll stuff later.

Really, what I need from your team right now is to interpret things like digital thermometers, infrared cameras, highly sensitive audio equipment and maybe some carbon monoxide detectors.

In case the ghosts leave their engines running?

No, for when the paranormal activity begins.

So, never?

Okay, I wouldn't be too sure about that.

See, we have permission to sh**t on the Queen Mary.

Now, the Queen Mary is one of the most haunted places in the world, and over the last three days, there's been a spike in paranormal incidents.

Okay?

Numerous employees and visitors have reported feeling a ghostly presence.

Or reporting seeing something you know...

[blows air]

...kind of dart in the corner of their eye.

It's their sanity departing.

Walter.

No, no, your skepticism is exactly what I need, okay?

Scientists will set this show apart.

I want real proof.

Although I should admit that...

[clears throat]

...I am a believer.

You know, there is some scientific evidence that leans towards the existence of the paranormal.

In 1901, Dr.

Duncan MacDougall weighed his patients directly after death and discovered them to be 21 grams lighter than just before they d*ed.

He theorized that the missing weight belonged to the human soul.

That study was debunked and MacDougall's sample was deemed too small to be taken as fact.

Also, it was 1901.

We've got the equipment, Walt.

It's just setting up and watching monitors.

I don't know about my face being plastered on TV pitching hokum.

Exactly what are the numbers here?

$20,000 for one night.

Okay, well, looks like we're grabbing some ghosts.

[horn blows]

Okay.

That ought to do it.

Happy?

The angle is good.

Walter: Yes, the perfect angle to catch all apparitions.

Shall we start holding our breath now?

[exhales]

Breathing exercises?

Calms me.

Walter: But what is truly calming is having one's feet up, fish snack in hand, and enjoying a quiet moment in the garage.

While your team gets their hands dirty.

Very noble.

Paige, I was clear.

I can't defend my position as top five of the world's smartest men while running around on TV like Scooby Poo.

Scooby who?

Walter: The animated Great Dane with the speech impediment.

Scooby Doo.

Maybe you could watch an episode while we work 'cause God forbid you do anything you don't want to do.

Ruh-roh.

Yup.

Now, make sure to place multiple sensors in the hall and engine rooms.

Uh, those have both been real hot spots lately.

Hot spots for what exactly?

Oh, well, for, uh, Captain Davenport who d*ed of a stroke, a first mate who mistook bleach for rum, and, of course, Herbie the Halfman.

I saw Herbie Hancock in Tulsa once.

Blakely: Yeah, I'm talking about Herbert Sternwig.

In 1937, he was betting his crew how many times he can cross the threshold of a hydraulic door after he hit the close switch.

Well, he slipped and the door cut him in half and now he's been roaming these halls ever since, [whispering]: looking for his missing lower body.

Okay.

Cabe: Come on, Sly.

Thought you believed in the soul, not the undead.

I believe in the scientific possibility of otherworldly elements.

Happy, how many things can you name that might cause one to see an apparition?

Happy: Infrasound, mold, electromagnetic fields...

There are psychological reasons for sightings.

Group suggestibility, the desire to reconnect with the deceased...

Granted, but a recent quantum theory of consciousness posited that information exists in microtubules that exit the body after they die, and may be able to exist without the body indefinitely.

This quantum information could explain what we call ghosts.

Walter: The CERN collider in Geneva picks up the most minute bursts of energy and it has never detected paranormal energy.

There are no ghosts.

You know, I wouldn't be too sure, Walter.

My grandfather, he lived with me until he d*ed when I was seven.

We were very close.

His spirit would visit me all the time as I was growing up.

He looked over me.

It's real and it's incredibly comforting.

That's actually a very sweet reason for doing this nonsense.

I can't take you guys anywhere.

Dave, really beautiful story.

What am I looking at?

It's Half-baked Harry.

Herbie the Halfman, but, yes, we have just seen our first spirit.

Camera trick.

Blakely: No, it's not.

There's no effect in the camera that could produce a half man.

He's gone!

Happy: Whoa.

I just got a chill.

Yeah, my skin's crawling.

What the hell's going on?

I feel it, too.

I feel it, too, guys.

This is exactly what everybody's been reporting on the last few days.

No joke, Walt-- I'm feeling that, too.

Yeah, because you're all succumbing to the same group hysteria that you mentioned before, which is really beneath the genius contingent in that room.

It's fine if it's Blakely.

Or Cabe.

Or Paige.

Gee, thanks, Walter.

Blakely: Okay, this sighting may defy science.

Thoughts?

Well, how about, "It doesn't"?

At all.

The magnetometer readings are just starting to come in and it's showing the entire ship bathed in an electromagnetic field.

An EMF?

From what?

I don't know, but an EMF can disrupt the electronics.

Like these lights.

And cause skin irritations and temperature change.

That's why we were all feeling those chills.

Also, a strong electromagnetic field-- that can cause mild hallucinations.

It affects the visual and auditory cortex.

It's kind of what I figured all along.

Is that why you grabbed my hand?

Like you weren't a little freaked out, too?

I have a theory.

What if this EMF is actually residual energy from Herbie the Halfman trying to manifest himself in our physical plane?

You know what, let's put this idiocy to bed.

Use the portable EMF readers to track the source of the signal.

Blakely: Yes, let's do that.

Let's start this inquest in the most haunted part of the ship, huh?

The ticket bureau and the queen's salon.

Yeah, "the most haunted parts." It's a good strategy.

[giggles]

Nonsense.

[phone dings]

♪ ♪ [detector beeping steadily]

[ship creaking]

I'm not buying this ghost angle, but this is spooky.

Not that I'm scared.

I'm not, I'm not scared.

Hey...

what do you say we rig a little watering hole for ol' Ferret Bueller?

Might be nice to give the little guy some sense of the outdoors.

It's an idea.

I lived with Cabe for weeks.

He used a cereal bowl to shave.

But the ferret gets creature comforts.

It's interesting.

There have been so many sightings in this room.

Yeah, some people think that this a vortex that connects our world to the next.

[phone ringing]

[gasps]

Could you silence that thing?

I'm a little on edge.

[phone beeps]

Walter?

Do you have a moment for a private conversation?

[grunts]

Hey.

Paige: Uh...

Okay.

What's up?

I know why you're angry.

I-I upset you last night by listening to a lecture when your friend was playing.

That was wrong.

It felt disrespectful to me.

To her.

Yes.

And physiologically, that caused your adrenaline to spike.

And you're angry now because adrenaline takes much longer to drain from women than men.

Uh, okay.

Well, I am certainly spiking right now.

Sylvester: Oh...

Guys, I am getting a very strong EMF reading.

What does this mean?

Walter: Keep moving forward.

You're getting closer to the source.

Why should I move forward?

Why can't Paige move forward?

Right behind you, you big baby.

[detector beeping steadily]

[beeping rapidly]

Paige: We must be right on top of it.

Or right under it.

Look.

Blood is coming from the ceiling!

Please.

Blakely: No, I can confirm that something red is dripping from the ceiling.

Sylvester: It's blood.

Blood of a man who was sheared in half 90 years ago!

Sly, if that's blood, we're not equipped for this.

We should call someone.

I need to call someone.

Who?

Who you gonna call?

Dope.

Who do you think I'm gonna call?

Rhymes with "Toastcrusters." He fell right into that.

Ow!

Any thoughts on what we're seeing right now?

Walter: Yes.

I see the EMF's origin is on the ship's surveillance.

It's right above you.

I'm calling the ship's operations department.

Move out.

That doesn't look like a ghost vortex to me.

I don't even think you can get cable on that thing.

Pretty hefty antenna.

That doesn't explain the blood.

[horn blowing in distance]

Rust.

Exact same color as the "blood" on your shirt.

Justin: Yeah.

There's a cracked water pipe dripping on the smokestack.

It's been leaking through the ceiling since this morning.

I'm Justin Fullman.

Ship operations.

You're Herbie the Halfman.

I'm assuming you work near a surveillance camera, behind a desk?

Yeah.

Why?

Ghost on the monitor was a double exposure caused by the EMF.

It merged with the camera feed of the state room with the security feed from where Fullman was working behind the desk.

That's why it looked like he didn't have legs.

How long's that antenna been up there?

Three days.

Right when the sightings spiked.

I told you.

EMF-induced hallucinations.

Now, wait, wait.

I don't think that this antenna has the amperage to do all that.

Paige: Yeah, I'm sorry.

I know you wanted to believe in those visits from your grandfather.

No, it's okay.

I wanted it proved or disproved, so...

Scorpion did its job.

Walter: Just find out who set up the antenna, and then remove it immediately.

Then we can end this charade.

FollowShip's been the leader in autonomous shipping for years.

We installed that antenna.

Walter: "Using technology similar to self-driving cars to deliver millions of gallons of liquid natural gas without a crew." That means they make ghost ships, Sly.

Our vessels navigate preprogrammed routes, and they avoid obstacles thanks to onboard sensors.

Then, within 100 miles, an antenna in the destination port beams directional instructions to guide them safely into harbor.

When you leased the antenna space from the Queen Mary, did you take into account its copper degaussing coil?

Uh, no.

Or the copper bed frames in most of the rooms?

That could cause interference with the antenna.

And create a very strong EMF.

Copper's a great conductor.

We really haven't seen any problems.

Other than three days' worth of people hallucinating?

Now, have any of your autonomous ships utilized the Queen Mary antenna yet?

Um...

[typing]

The first one passed the 100-mile mark 30 minutes ago.

[typing]

[computer beeping]

Oh, no.

"Oh, no"?

Oh, boy.

We've got a ship that should've turned toward Long Beach an hour ago.

But it's heading toward Malibu.

You must have a manual override.

Yes.

Um...

[typing]

[computer beeping]

Oh, no.

That's two "Oh, noes." What's going on?

Walter: The electrical interference scrambled your ship's electronics, didn't it?

No, uh, Th-this has nothing to do with electronics, okay?

This is an unmanned ghost ship heading to shore.

Coming to take revenge for us mocking the spirits of the Queen Mary.

Oh, will you stop with that nonsense?

Sydney, the speed and location of the ship, please?

56 nautical miles northwest of L.A., 15 knots.

I'm filming this.

In 40 minutes, that ship is going to run aground on the Malibu coast.

How much cargo is it carrying?

Sydney: 20 million gallons of toxic and expl*sive liquid natural gas.

Cabe: Spill that size would make the Exxon Valdez look like a drop of olive oil.

[boat horn blowing]

♪ Scorpion 4x06 ♪ Queen Scary I have a visual on the tanker.

I'm into FollowShip's operating system.

Now, I've done everything I can think of to take control of the ship using the remote override.

There's no way to communicate with this vessel.

Cabe: All right.

We commandeer a chopper from the local PD, land on the ship, and shut it down.

Sydney: That's impossible.

The control center is sealed behind five-inch steel doors.

Anti-piracy measure.

That's three hours of cutting with a plasma saw.

That's too long.

Paige: Then let's yank down the antenna and move it away from the copper on the ship.

No, it'll take hours to recalibrate that antenna.

By then, every grommet at Surfrider will be hip deep in Texas tea.

Walter: Don't touch the antenna.

If the problem is the interference from the Queen Mary's antenna, then we don't move it, we boost it.

Blakely: I'm sorry.

H-How does increasing the source of the problem fix anything?

If we boost the antenna's signal, it will cut through the copper's interference.

Uh, it's like, uh, turning up a flashlight's brightness in a fog.

In order to cut through an EMF that strong, we need to boost the antenna's signal by ten.

But where do we get the source for that much juice in less than 40 minutes?

Wait.

We're standing on a source.

The engines.

The Queen Mary was one of the fastest ships to make the Atlantic crossing.

She's right.

The lower deck basically houses a steam power plant.

That hasn't operated in 50 years.

You think you can get it running again?

Cabe.

Look who you're talking to.

I can't get it running.

Come on.

You were cocky a minute ago.

That's before I saw the boiler up close, and it's ancient history.

Plus, all that's left in there is a heavy fuel oil, deep at the bottom of the t*nk.

Probably nothing but sludge.

Tanker's eight miles from spilling off the coast.

Are you saying there's no way to get that engine started?

Well, if the burner lights, it'll heat the boiler.

That will run the turbochargers, then we might have juice.

Lots of variables, low odds.

L.A.

Coast Guard is on maneuvers in San Diego.

It sent a ship big enough to intercept the tanker, but it won't be there for an hour.

[pressurized hissing]

I'm hearing a hiss from the gas pipes, and smelling fuel.

I can't tell if the concentration's high enough to ignite-- fingers crossed.

Cabe: Come on.

Guys, I don't know if, uh...

[whooshing]

Whoa.

We got fire!

Blakely, can you get out of my way?

There's no ghosts here.

You can't prove that.

Let's just these cords connected and down to Happy.

You sure these extension cords can carry enough juice?

Heads up, Cabe.

I'm not worried about the modern extension cords, it's this outdated flame-broiler that has me concerned.

But here goes nothing.

[power surging]

We got juice!

Enough to power a small town.

I just have no idea for how long.

We are literally running on fumes.

Yeah, it's working-- the antenna's broadcasting at over 150 kilovolts.

It's cutting through the EMF.

Have you made contact with the ship?

Yes.

I'm into the ship's navigation system.

Entering coordinates for the Port of Long Beach.

Directing the tanker away from Malibu.

Sydney: It's turning.

Oh, thank God.

[electricity crackling]

Uh, Happy?

So, sparks are flying from the antenna.

Oh, man, the spirits are pissed now.

It's a power surge.

It'll cut half the flow.

But if that doesn't do it, we're kind of screwed.

The antenna's down.

Executing the ship's emergency cutoff.

It's not responding.

Power surge blew out communications, and we're not gonna be able to guide it into port.

Uh, what's its new present course?

Southeast by...

Oh, no.

I'm getting real sick of you saying that, lady.

It's on a collision course with Vinoly Oil Refinery.

So instead of just spilling the gas, it's going to spill and explode.

Sylvester: Ecological disaster, poison fumes in the air, the entire Port of Long Beach engulfed in flame.

Cabe: It's more than just a port.

Long Beach is also home to half of California's refineries.

It's built on hundreds of miles of pipelines.

Toby: When that tanker hits the refinery, it's gonna set off a series of underground explosions that'll reach as far as Anaheim.

Be thousands of casualties.

[beeping]

Uh...

so sorry to ask this, but could you do that one more time?

I had to change my memory card.

Okay, we've got an out-of-control tanker carrying 20 million gallons of natural gas, and in 25 minutes it's gonna collide with the refinery.

The resulting expl*si*n will turn Long Beach into Very Short Beach.

You know, for the record, I liked it better when we were busting ghosts.

Yeah, well, trust me, you still are.

What about the navy?

There's vessels in the Gulf of Mexico participating in w*r games.

They've been dispatched, but they won't make it back in time.

I don't want to be that person, but I think you need to start evacuating people.

I already told you the web of pipelines go inland for dozens of miles.

There's no outrunning the expl*si*n.

Our only solution is to stop the tanker.

Sylvester: That makes sense in theory, but we need to strike it with something with great force.

So we need something very heavy and very fast.

There's not a vessel in that port that can reach that kind of acceleration.

Wait, wait, what about the pipeline?

It's pressurized to move dense fuel at high speeds.

Couldn't we use it to launch something very heavy and very fast?

Why do you guys always look so surprised when I know something?

Happy: She's right.

We can basically turn the pipeline into Ralph's pumpkin chucker, and slam the section of the ship that doesn't carry any cargo.

Walter: Well, that would work, especially if the ship's course will take it over the pipeline's ocean-side opening.

Now, we're gonna need three things to pull it off.

Gumption, spunk, and a little thing I like to call moxie.

Shut up.

First, we have to reverse the flow of the pipeline.

Currently, it's set to bring crude from ships to the refinery-- we need to flip that.

We'll also need to create a projectile heavy enough to travel through the refinery pipeline and pierce the opening where the ships hook into it.

I'll get a metal barrel from the engine room.

I'll contact the refinery.

Walter: Sly, calculate the precise moment to launch the projectile so it hits the tanker in a spot that will sink it, but not puncture its tanks and set off an expl*si*n.

Aye, aye.

[tires screeching]

You with Scorpion?

Yeah.

Head office filled us in-- right this way.

[tires screeching]

Walter: Hey!

I'm here to help.

Better late than never.

Come on.

So how do we turn this barrel into a boat buster?

We need to increase its mass.

Cabe: Sandbags.

What the hell did that thing ever do to you?

It needs to be conical to work.

You think you can do that to Ferret Bueller's new cage?

Maybe put a mesh window in there so he doesn't have to look through the bars all day?

Pipeline hasn't had a delivery in a day, so it's empty from here to the ocean.

Excellent.

Shutting the safety valve now.

[buzzer blaring]

I'll go turn the water on.

Run this down for me one more time.

I shut off the safety valve to build up the pressure in the pipeline from here to the ocean.

Now, filling it with water...

[water rushing]

...turns the pipe into a hydraulic cannon that can launch the metal drum Happy and Cabe are preparing.

And that great idea was Paige's.

I'll monitor the hose's water pressure.

How do you know about pipeline physics, anyway?

Flow dynamics.

Dr.

Smirl's lecture.

Yeah, the one you were listening to at my friend's show.

Oh, well, that lecture is dense material.

It's like listening to Chinese, but you want to go see him speak, so I'm trying to understand some of it.

That's very...

considerate of you.

Well, that's what people in relationships do.

They try to take interest in one another's hobbies, even it it takes a little bit of effort.

[wheels squeaking]

Cabe [grunts]: One barrel, set for blastoff.

Okay, Toby, we're good to go here.

Toby: Good, 'cause we're running low on time.

The ghost ship is 30 minutes from barbecuing Long Beach.

Okay.

Sly?

Sydney gave me wind speed, port depth and acceleration.

Still hasn't passed the horizon yet, so I'm going to plug all of that into my calculations.

Do you mind?

I'm working.

Yeah, so am I.

Hey, man, I thought you were on my side.

No, I said that there was a slight scientific possibility of a netherworld or something like it.

We've explained everything else away.

Okay, look, I know you think ghosts are real, or believing in ghosts helps you, but you're getting in my way of saving lives.

Actual living people.

Done.

Okay, you guys need to launch the barrel on my count.

Five...

four...

Barrel's in.

.. three...

two...

one...

No, stop.

Huh?

No?

Don't fire the barrel?

Sylvester: Uh, no.

I mean, yes!

Launch the barrel now.

Now!

Okay, looks like the tanker got rocked a bit.

Come on, Sly, tell us what we want to hear.

Well, the barrel was launched late, thanks to someone's reflector.

But I saw the tanker list heavily.

Impact might have been enough to open up a non-cargo section of the ship.

Could be filling with water as we speak.

Toby: No, it's not.

Must have hit it too far back in the stern.

That ship is still heading for Long Beach, and it is gonna collide with the refinery in less than half an hour.

That boat is still headed in.

It's strong and steady.

This is bad.

Sydney: Maybe not as strong as you think.

My readings show that the impact caused an electric surge that shorted the locks on the security doors.

That means its shields are down!

Did you guys hear that?

If we can get on the ship, we can hardwire into its system and then execute its emergency cutoff.

All right, headed to the marina now.

But we're gonna need a hell of a ride when we get there.

Sly, you heard the man.

G-Get a fast boat, fast.

Okay, who out here is gonna let me borrow their boat?

Toby [over comm]: Use your jury-selection training.

Trust your instincts.

Okay, profiling.

Profiling.

No, woman will protect her child and be suspicious when I approach.

A jogger's just out here getting his exercise.

Most likely doesn't own a boat in the marina.

Sly, speed round!

Oh, I think I found our ticket.

Male, early 40s, red shorts, gray socks, ponytail.

That is all inconsequential.

And a Super Fun Guy backpack!

The dork's your guy.

There she is.

Guys, tanker's still at 15 knots.

Cabe, boarding is gonna be safest if you can match its speed as close as possible.

How close are they?

They're coming around portside as we speak.

Get ready, son!

Coming up on 15 knots!

Okay, based on my weight and approximate distance to the ship, I should jump at exactly...

No time for math!

[screams]

He made it!

He's on the tanker!

Cabe: Heading back now!

Oh, this may be an issue.

The cabin door's moving so fast it's become a guillotine.

Sounds like that electric surge didn't just unlock the cabin, it shorted out the door.

Mm, what if it's Herbie the Halfman possessing the ship?

Oh, shut it.

Walt, either way, you got to get through that door if we're gonna stop that tanker.

Can you see a pattern to the door?

It's opening and closing incredibly fast.

That's the pattern.

Shh.

Everyone, quiet for a second.

[door thudding over comm]

Walt, it's moving at 3/4 time.

One upbeat, two down.

If you go on the upbeat, you'll get past the door.

I can't hear the pattern.

Well, just pretend it's music.

There's math in music.

Just close your eyes and listen.

[door continues thudding]

I can hear it.

Now, just wait for the upbeat.

Now!

Did you make it?

Barely.

Now I'm Walter the Halfshirt.

[computer beeps]

Okay, Toby, you are hardwired in.

Hang on tight.

I'm executing the emergency stop...

now.

[sonar pinging]

It's not slowing down.

Yeah, so that should've worked.

Oh, the electric surge must've fried the ship's internal controls.

Toby: The only thing I can bring on line now is the ship's sonar, and even that's not registering solid objects, just a narrow band of frequencies.

So she's swimming blind?

We can use that.

I-It's like when I closed my eyes to get past the door.

I couldn't see the pattern, but I could hear it.

We can solve this problem with music, also.

Not the time for a music appreciation course, Walt.

Just hear me out.

When musicians record songs, they're essentially plugging holes in the sonic spectrum.

So if we use the industrial speakers on the deck to blast a song at the tanker at a high enough volume, we should be able to create a sonic wall large enough to trick the sonar into thinking it's approaching an actual wall.

At which point the ship should stop itself, and that'll prevent it from running into the refinery and save us all from a deadly case of heat stroke.

I got music on my phone.

If this plan is gonna work, we're gonna have to position all the speakers on this old boat toward the sea.

So don't go home.

And you call me when you get this.

Sorry.

Know I wasn't supposed to tell anyone.

But I just left my mom a message.

She lives right near the refinery.

You want to save lives?

Get music blasting on every speaker on the deck.

Plugging it into the emergency broadcast system.

Guys, cutting it close!

["Monster in Love" begins playing]

♪ Mr.

Wolfman, go tell Frankenstein ♪ ♪ What?

♪ ♪ That I wish...

♪ Damn it, if she doesn't say "Wolfmen." The sonar's picking up the frequencies of the song.

♪ 'Cause the doctor gave you...

♪ It's working.

The ship's engines shutting down.

♪ It's so hard...

♪ [sonar pinging]

Toby: Guys, it's getting closer to the refinery.

[creaking]

[shouts]

We did it!

Oh, thank God.

Uh, Sydney, I believe you had the '87 Tanker.

Do you have your valet ticket, please?

[laughs]

[song continues playing]

Guys.

Me chasing ghosts almost got people k*lled.

And I'm so sorry.

Truth is, at the end of it all, it was science that saved the day.

It always does.

Sylvester: If we're being honest, if you hadn't have brought us here today, we wouldn't have been around to stop that ship.

Your grandfather would've been proud.

[Ghost Grabbers music playing]

Narrator [over television]: We will board the Queen Mary with Scorpion, a team of geniuses in search of spirits, poltergeists and ghosts.

Like the infamous Herbie the Halfman.

Woman: There was clearly a haunting here.

That's not my voice.

Blood.

Blood of a man who was sheared in half 90 years ago!

Well, I said that under duress.

Ghosts are real.

Believing in them helps you.

Out of context.

Oh.

I just got a chill.

No joke, Walt.

I'm feeling that, too.

Narrator: Brilliant skeptics brought to the brink of terror, on the first episode of Ghost Grabbers.

We gave a sound scientific explanation for all of that.

What a shock.

A Hollywood producer's a dirtbag.

Ralph: Ahem?

What are you?

I'm the early bird.

If I want to stay true to my costume, we really need to leave for the science club's Halloween party right now.

Geez.

You sound like Patty.

Hold on, Sly.

You can't go to a Halloween party without a costume.

Way ahead of you.

Since I am a lawyer now, I'm going as the Devil's advocate.

Hop to, early bird.

[clapping]

Toby: You get why he's, uh, dressed as the early bird, right?

Because Patty Logan is gonna be at that party, and there is nothing that that girl likes more than being punctual.

She's never had a tardy.

You think my son is making a psychological play for Patty by appealing to her subconscious?

He is a genius.

What are you going as?

Happy: I'm a...

sad sack.

For once, I've got a costume that won't raise the perv's hackles.

Keep trying.

Really?

And what are you going as, Toby?

Oh, um...

Ceiling fan.

[laughs]

[horn honking in distance]

It's Ralph.

Very impatient.

375 IQ points between them and I still need to drive those doofuses?

I will drive them.

You can catch up.

I want you to talk to Cabe, about what we discussed.

On it.

[sighs]

[Ferret Bueller squeaking]

How's the Habitat for Furmanity?

Well, he seems happy.

But I still think we can brighten it up a little bit.

You know, in three years, you haven't so much as acknowledged that polecat, and now you're his decorator.

Little interesting.

It's clear you're going through something, Cabe.

Something that doesn't make you comfortable with things being caged up.

Just a flyer here, but...

that might have something to do with your criminal charges.

[Ferret Bueller chittering]

It's not gonna make you weak to talk about it.

Hard pass.

I know you don't like discussing your feelings, but I always thought you respected me, what I dedicated my life to.

Being a smartass?

I'm just asking for five minutes.

[chime jingling]

Five minutes.

That's it.

[horn honking in distance]

Ladies' choice.

Uh-huh.

The roll.

Yes.

Good choice.

I will be the rock, and together, we will be...

Walter, I-I get it.

We should go.

So, you read, uh, Flow Dynamics.

Taking an interest in one of my hobbies, so I took an interest in one of yours.

I downloaded your friend's album.

We can listen to it on the way to the party.

Well, that's nice, but I don't...

I don't want to force you to do that.

You're not forcing anyone, no.

Although I will need help understanding it, as there's no sound in space.

It's a metaphor, describing the trouble she has expressing herself for someone she loves.

Music is...

how she conveys her feelings.

So you like it when people communicate their emotions through music?

It's like the electromagnetic field today.

We couldn't see it, but it affected us.

I don't know, there's something kind of special about a power that you can't see but you can feel.

Music's like that.

It can be an unadulterated expression of truth.

And that's why I wish you'd just given it a chance, Walter.

Okay.

We have to go pick up the pizza for the party.

You know, uh, I'll meet you in the car.

I just need to send an e-mail.

Okay.

Okay.

[door closes]

[typing]

[door opens and closes]

Toby: All right.

Step into my office.

[door creaks]

The trailer.

Would have expected more from a Harvard man.

You sit down and get relaxed, and we'll talk.

Here comes the New Age mumbo jumbo.

I got no mumbo jumbo.

I'm just gonna listen.

About you and your mindset with the upcoming trial.

How you feel.

Whatever you want to say.

[chime jingling]

Doc, I'm worried.