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Whoo! Rocket pack!
You know how much fuel you just wasted?
I don't know.
How much paint did Michelangelo "waste"
on the Sistine Chapel?
Yeah, but when Mikey ran out of paint,
he didn't die in space.
Well, let's just cross that bridge
when we never ever cross it because it doesn't exist.
Would you just trace the...
Shut up, Lana.
I'm trying to trace the signal
and it's right... there!
Nanotube-reinforced reactor grid.
Man if we can re-tune that,
it'll sell for 18 months of operating costs.
And, more importantly, a sizable bonus for us.
First off, no.
We badly need a restock of Gran Classico.
Second...
And third, Cyril's picked up a... what was it?
I've got a class D ship on a hyperbolic intercept orbit!
- Yes, that. - It's right there!
For the thousandth time, we can't see you pointing!
And why wasn't that the first thing?
Because I said two other things first?
All right. We've trained for this.
Cyril, on guns. We need cover.
On it.
Krieger, spool up hyperspace drive.
- Spooling! - Cheryl, get to your fighter.
Lame!
- Ray, you're still useless. - You know...
Pam, swoop in with the gig, lasso the grid,
and tow it to the ship.
Pam? Pam!
Paaam!
What? I'm right fricking here!
I don't know. Maybe we got attacked by scavengers,
barely got out with the power core, and... oh, right!
I ran out of fuel and almost died!
Something about a bridge...
Who am I, Santiago Calatrava?
- The shortstop? - No.
That's what I'm gonna call my foot
when it's gracefully yet powerfully suspended
up your ass!
Look, I feel terrible, guys.
No more mistakes!
I'll be the perfect crew member from now on.
Which is why you skipped the debriefing?
I said from now on.
And came directly to the mess hall!
I eat my feelings?
- Amongst everything. - Don't be a dick.
Why would he possibly stop now?
It's kind of a big part of my draw.
Look, I just came down here to get a leftover sandwich
from that time we were on Toba Station.
Dibs! Dibs, dibs, dibs, dibs, dibs!
Where are you, you beautiful...
What... the hell... was that?
That would be my sandwich.
What do we know about it?
Well, apparently it's allergic to compliments.
And ate all our food.
The food? But that's what we eat!
Where did it come from?
Well, originally it was a sandwich from Toba Station?
See, you eat it while it's alive and struggling,
but it was definitely dead when I finished.
It must've regenerated.
Be that as it may!
We need a plan before this gets out of hand.
It laid eggs! Weird gross eggs!
Cool! Lemme see!
Uh, how many?
I don't know! They're everywhere!
So we've got an alien on board that's multiplying,
no food, and scavengers might still be tracking us.
Anyone have an idea
that doesn't involve us dying in space?
I vote dying.
Archer, Lana, you go find this thing.
Gillette, Cheryl,
gather all the scraps of food that are left
to see if we can make the next spaceport.
Krieger, study the eggs. Try to find a weakness.
Cyril, Ms. Archer, keep scanning for those scavengers.
Now if you'll excuse me,
I have to stride somewhere with purpose!
Wow.
Now, I wanna say that's dumb,
because, well, Pam.
- Yeah, but that's... - Actually...
A good idea.
So, if I were to hypothetically suss out
the military applications of...
Okay, yes, I see by your faces yes.
Got it! Won't do that!
We're going to have such adventures together.
Yeah, that won't come back to haunt us.
I'll keep an eye on him,
and just kill that thing, Sterling,
before Krieger uses it to mutate us all into,
let's say, space goo.
I vote space goo.
- So are you gonna... - Shh!
Shut. Shut your mouth.
I will not let you ruin this for me
like you have so many other times.
I. Am. Ready.
- Ya done? - What?
I don't know how to do the volume on this thing.
- I said, "ya done?" - Oh, got it.
I think so.
There's nothing left, and also I can barely move.
And that's gonna help you catch this thing how?
All of this, Lana, is totally necessary!
Actually, let's see where it is.
I only have another seven, eight steps in me.
Huh. This says it's within two meters.
Which would only make sense if...
Oh, screw you, two-dimensional display.
Hey, hey, Lana! It's friendly!
Also laying gross eggs. Pretty much constantly.
And the cloaca blooms.
And what does that mean,
other than that you now have a sideline
in Georgia O'Keefe sculptures?
The eggs contain self-healing DNA.
If I can isolate it,
I might unlock the secret of regeneration.
And they called me mad.
- Who did? - Huh?
Oh, I guess I just assumed.
Safe bet.
So, do you want the bad news?
- Or the what? - Uh, there is no other news.
Then why did you ask?
Rhetorical effect?
Well, it stopped us in our tracks, Cicero,
so mark it as ineffective.
Look, we don't have enough food to make it
to the nearest spaceport.
Even if we carefully rationed out the scraps here,
we still wouldn't have...
He's incorrigible.
- Damn it, Archer! - What?
He said there wasn't enough food to make it to spaceport.
Nothing's changed! So I accept your apology.
Ooh! It's starting.
We'll tear ourselves apart with suspicion and doubt
and then eat each other! I call first dibs!
- To eat or be eaten? - Whatever. I'm not picky.
Better sharpen those chompers.
I am so confused by your tone.
Me too.
It may not come to that.
Using the egg, I may have found a way
to regenerate our cells as we starve.
It won't be pleasant...
- But? - No, I was done.
Let me guess.
There's a chance it'll turn us into space goo?
No! Well, yes. Actually, it's pretty likely.
How'd you know that?
Because it's always space goo with you.
Well, not just that.
We should eat the eggs.
Oh, these hook-covered, evil-smelling, pus sacks
that just happen to be the property of my new best friend?
But they make you feel amazing!
But you didn't even know we were out of food.
So when did you start eating those?
Pretty much immediately.
Start this off on the wrong foot,
but I'm thinking of eating your feet.
When I said we had to consider our options,
this is not what I meant. Well, I didn't hear
anyone else suggesting anything!
Because you told me to shut up!
And here you are talking.
I meant something that leaves us
with the right number of feet!
Lana, it's offensive to call it "the right number of feet"
when those lacking limbs are valuable members of society.
Hey, yeah!
It's also why you should let me eat your feet.
This seems productive.
Shouldn't you be scanning?
- I think Cyril's on that. - Not on that.
And clean yourselves up.
You go a few days without food,
and suddenly you look like a pack of Okies
matted with wet dirt.
Uh, it's called mud,
and why is it that you don't care about starving?
Oh, I've trained myself to live on a liquid diet.
I guess that's the upside of having blood
that's basically formaldehyde.
So you're essentially pre-embalmed.
Okay, look, We're all hungry.
Let's just calm down and stop insulting Mother
until I think of a really good one.
I'll mark my calendar.
Aww, look. It's dreaming.
Shouldn't we try eating these eggs?
I mean, before we drown in them?
Not yet! Krieger says they're loaded with all sorts
of crazy chemicals and God knows what.
Pam seems okay.
Does she?
Pow-pow-pow-pow-pah!
Anyhoo, just hang tight.
Krieger might have something soon
and for God's sake, show some restraint.
I must be pretty hungry. Now I'm hearing things.
- Uh, that's not imaginary. - Good.
'Cause I was about to kick my imagination's ass
for having terrible taste. What is that?
It sounds like a piano double-crossed the Yakuza.
♪ Struck oil from the start ♪
♪ But the real land you stole was in my... ♪
Please don't say "heart."
Start-heart is the lyrical equivalent of light-beige.
What is all this here then?
Hey, remember when you said I was useless?
Honestly, no, but it does sound like me.
"All this here then"
is me finally finding my true purpose in life.
Didn't you come out, like, years ago?
Yeah, there's more to me
than my sexuality. Eh.
For example, my love of musical theater.
And that's distinct from...
I'm writing what I always dreamed of:
A rock musical about the Teapot Dome Scandal.
That is the worst idea...
Let me finish!
With some hip-hop elements.
I stand corrected.
Please tell me it's not called "Off the Dome."
Why? Do you not like that?
Well, I'm proud of you for pursuing your dream.
Thank you very much.
But you sure seem to have a lot of energy
for a starving person!
Come on, where's your stash?
Be more specific!
This room is basically nothing but contraband!
- Your food stash! - I don't have any!
I'm just filled with a glowing sense of purpose.
Now if you'll leave me to my art,
I have to find a rhyme with Mineral Leasing Act!
The Crédit Mobilier scandal would be much more compelling!
- You take that back! - Oh, come on!
Union Pacific Railroad.
One of the central guys was named George Train.
That writes itself!
Nothing writes itself!
Don't listen to them.
Nothing but great calls, baby Ray!
God, these eggs are dynamite.
Neurological dynamite, that is.
Loaded with neurotransmitters. So what do they do?
The human brain is fiendishly complex.
It's all neurons and electricity and mooshy parts.
- So you don't know? - We'd have to scan someone
while they ate one for the first time.
But that could cause anything!
Define "anything."
Hmm, insanity, memory loss, death,
or a sexual syndrome called Brainaphilia
that I just now invented.
So testing on a live subject would be totally unethical.
Let's use Cheryl.
Wait, were we considering anything else?
So, hitting the sauce pretty hard?
It's not sauce!
I didn't think it was literally...
It's marinade!
And that's how that conversation ended.
Hey, the map thingy says that we're flying toward
the Fang Nebula. So it does.
Well, aren't there like six overlapping wars
going on there right now?
Why do people rob banks, Cheryl?
If I'm remembering this right,
it's because the action is the juice?
Because that's where the money is,
and if we're looking for salvage,
you fly into the teeth of chaos
and howl at the shadow of death itself!
So say we all.
Greetings, Rat Racers.
How does it feel to follow orders like robots,
pawns in your own lives?
Cyril? What are you doing?
Other than mixing metaphors
into some kind of smoothie-like paste.
As little as possible, muchacha.
Why aren't you scanning?
Oh, my gosh, you're right. Hold on.
Yep, all clear.
We're in deep space. Nothing's ever on the scanner.
It's all a scam to keep you busy
while they rob you of your freedom.
Freedom to what, become a human Jimmy Buffet B-side?
You mean awesome and underrated?
No. Stop twisting my words! Lana, he's twisting my words!
Can we just get to the point? Cyril, did you find food?
You bet I did.
I came here to do two things: Eat eggs and nothing
and I'm not out of either.
Now get out.
What is going on?
I know. Why am I in the hallway?
No. That's not what I was...
Wait, did I just do what he said?
Oh, no. He's the alpha!
He cares less than I do!
I... I don't wanna live in a world where Cyril's cool!
So, you're not worried that our crew
seems to be going insane and/or starving?
Listen to me, I'm talking about something important.
My intrinsic dominance over other males.
You think he'd let me groom him?
It's something about those eggs.
This might be the starvation talking
or the fact that I don't like the looks of your feet,
but maybe we should just eat the eggs?
Everyone's acting weird,
but I guess they're not dead, right?
Yeah, so what's the worst that could happen?
Dot, dot, dot.
How did this happen? I hate you!
Yeah, and I don't usually have a thing
for older divorced ladies.
- Hey! - I'm kidding.
I totally have a thing for older divorced ladies.
Not all the time.
It's like a... What's the drink called?
Like a drink you drink between other drinks.
Like aperitif, but not.
God, Cyril's gonna be pissed.
Not digestif, that's after...
wait, you're sleeping with Cyril?
- And why would you care? - I don't know!
I guess deep down, I still care what you do.
That's very slightly touching.
I mean, you're my ex-wife, Lana.
What you do reflects back on me.
Oh, this from the guy that just called me an intermezzo!
That's it! Intermezzo!
That was really bothering me.
This is a nightmare.
Talking to you is like talking to a very selfish rock
with mother issues!
Rocks don't have moms!
Unless you count volcanoes.
But speaking of things that are hard as a rock...
Great segue. That was pretty amazing, right?
Unfortunately, yes.
Round two?
Does it bother you that it's watching us?
Why?
How long do you need?
After that sexual Iditarod?
Two minutes, 15 seconds. Should we maybe discuss
what's going on with the ship
and, uh, how we should maybe do something about it?
Now you've pushed it back to three with all that talk,
so might as well.
I just want to look at it!
Oh, my God, what's that?
Huh. I... I guess it was nothing.
Oh, put a sock in it, Benedict.
You've fallen for that, like, four times.
At some point, it is your fault.
You're calling it... no. I will not engage with that.
Are you sure? I've got a whole series of quips about it.
We're under the influence of something, right?
I think we've just finally discovered our true feelings.
All the games can stop now.
We're gonna be together forever.
Yeah, yeah, we're egg crazy.
Which explains why we're setting sex records
in both frequency and duration and probably distance,
if they measured sex in that. So, let's go talk to Krieger,
figure out a solution to our starvation problem
and then get rid of these eggs.
Or we could just have sex again?
Yup, probably that.
Krieger, I command that you scan me!
I already am!
Because I command it! All is well.
Huh, same as Gillette and Cyril.
Tough to see brain changes
with all the background egg in your blood.
This scanner sees through clothes.
Why are we in our underwear? Why indeed?
I did it because Pam told me to!
- Hey, me too! - Patton couldn't lift
these nuts. Hooah!
My current hypothesis is that these neurotransmitters
free you from mental blocks
and let you pursue your deepest wishes.
Leadership!
Doing nothing!
"Off the Dome!"
And we're married to that title?
Do you just live in doorways now?
Found this one nibbling on a power cord.
What are you, part Mynock?
No! I was just trying to tenderize myself!
Now who's stupid?
Can't believe we were so wrong about you.
Cheryl, can you step in here
and put this in your mouth? Ha, not gonna
fall for that again.
Damn it!
- How do you feel? - I don't feel any different.
I mean, hmm, I kinda want to blow up the ship,
but I always want to do that.
There goes your theory.
No, I think this actually confirms it!
Because she has no impulse control,
the eggs don't affect her!
That's totally unfair!
Uh-oh.
It seems these eggs are also highly addictive.
- No, they're not! - That's ridiculous!
Krieger, I think it's time we took a walk.
Ooh, I love secret plans!
Oh, God.
I just ejaculated dust,
and I'm pretty sure it was my own pulverized skeleton.
One more go?
So, hey guys.
Ugh. I would act startled
but it would probably kill me.
Turns out those eggs are highly addictive
and make you act out your deepest desires.
Yeah, that's kind of where we came out on it.
So if you'll excuse us.
Please, don't mind me.
Do we mind?
I mean, I could go either way.
Yes, we mind!
And I mind that this ship is doomed
if no one does their jobs!
Oh, come on. It's...
Probably fine. But if this keeps up,
we're probably gonna die of chafing.
Pam also locked the ship onto a course
for the Fang Nebula.
[rapping] ♪ I am Wyoming, I am home! ♪
♪ I am America, I'm Teapot Dome! ♪
God, wow, that is cask strength ear poison,
but I'm still on the fence.
Do you really want to live the rest
of your short life in a world
where Cyril is cooler than you?
We'll shoot the eggs into space.
But only if you modify Benedict so he stops laying eggs.
He's my friend, and he's staying
and I just realized he's probably a she.
There's no way for me to know if I can even...
He'll do it or he goes in the recycler.
But, wait. What will we eat?
I cobbled together a formula from stuff on hand
and the regenerative DNA.
It should provide enough nutrients
to get us to spaceport.
Really? Space goo?
No! It's more of a slurry.
Yeah, it's a goo.
All right, that's the last of them.
- Took you long enough. - Not engaging. Not engaging.
Engage, MF-ers!
You'll touch that button when I say so.
And guess what? I won't!
How did you find us?
Uh, I tapped into the shipwide surveillance system.
Which, by the way, pretty pissed about!
Look, we've got to get rid of these eggs,
and everything will go back to normal.
- No! - Screw normal!
You think I like being a courtesan on a salvage ship?
I have a post graduate degree!
- What's it called? A Ph. Dong? - That's what they call it!
I just want to do nothing and be happy
and not get yelled at!
And I'm good at being a captain!
I want to take some initiative without this ding dong.
- Hey! - Not you!
Doing his stupid plans!
So, what I'm hearing is, you want Archer to be nicer
or alternatively, we can die in space
as previously discussed.
I'm thinking.
Ow, fine!
Jesus, your knuckles are like filberts!
Well, don't worry about food, because...
Yeah. Space goo.
Aww, my moment.
What did you use to make it?
Human waste and garbage?
Hmm, not just that.
Okay, I'm back on the egg side.
Seriously? What about...
Wow! Okay.
That is powerful!
Cork it, electro-nuts!
Whew. Look, we're all happy.
Yes, maybe it's a shortcut,
but don't we deserve that once in a while?
Isn't it nice just to be together?
To not worry about the future?
Call it an intermezzo, but maybe it's worth it?
Oh, that was beautiful.
But no, I will not gorge myself on a highly addictive substance
while we drift into a war zone
while listening to a shitty rock musical.
Because it's insane, and we will die!
- Seize her! - No, no, no, no...
Wait! Hey, guys.
Remember when you were happy?
No!
- Why did you do that? - It turns out the eggs
did unleash my deepest desire.
It's to make you all miserable.
Warning! Unknown vessel approaching!
Cyril! What did we say about the scanner,
you colossal turd!
Hey, you said you'd be nicer to me!
- I never agreed to that! - Yes, you did!
I obviously didn't mean it, Lana!
Well, we're all gonna die. Thanks, Lana!
How is this my fault?
I don't know, but it feels good to say that!
Hey, guys, it's Captain Brett!
Yeah, I've been tracking you guys for a while,
and I thought you guys might need some supplies.
Wait, wait, wait, wait. How do we know it's Brett?
Ooh, hold on guys.
I'm getting something weird on my scanner here.
Yeah, what are those?
Oh, no. No, no!
No, no, no, no, no, no, no!
Nooo!
Yep, uh, that was Brett.
Made in Georgia.
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