04x06 - Natural Election

[bunniefuu]

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...

Diez...

Nueve...

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 sh*t
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 k*lling my eyes.

How come it's not
k*lling 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. k*ll 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
f*ring 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 sh**ting things.

Don't sh**t 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 sh**t the plant.

I repeat, do not
sh**t 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 att*cked?

It ate its way through the pot
rather than be cooked.

Wouldn't you?

I didn't boil the plant,
I sh*t 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 k*lled 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 k*ll 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.

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-k*lling 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
expl*si*n 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 k*lled.

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.

m*llitary 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.