(THEME MUSIC)
(DRAMATIC INSTRUMENTAL MUSIC)
- Could you get it on visual? - Not a chance.
Anyway, it's not an "it", but a "them", there's two of them.
- The readings are the same? - Same type of ship.
It's our orbit pattern that threw me. Our scanners see one at a time...
and we can't get either on visual because we're in the permanent dark side.
Confirm that, Zen.
The pattern is mathematically possible...
but can't be confirmed without an independent point of scan.
Okay, Zen, we've read the same manuals.
It's an old Federation manoeuvre.
Unimaginative, but so's a punch in the mouth. We don't need either.
At least it tells us who sent them.
Servalan.
Avon, Vila, respond please.
- Nothing. - Keep trying, we're running out of time.
Avon, Vila, respond please. I'm sure they can hear us.
Avon, there are two hostile spacecraft in close scan range.
Request teleport now, please.
And number three is out there somewhere.
Dayna, you'd better run a check on energy banks and force wall.
- Prepare for combat! - We stay and fight?
With those two down there, what else can we do?
Avon, this is priority.
(SUSPENSEFUL INSTRUMENTAL MUSIC)
What is Tarrant doing? He can run, or he can attack, but he does neither.
Madam President, if I might make a suggestion.
Assault Leader 1, status check.
Maintaining contraxial orbit with Leader 2.
Report Liberator detector scans operative.
He knows they're there.
- If I might suggest... - Assault Leader 3, status check.
Holding eclipse pattern with Leader 1. We're sustaining high energy loss.
It's a dangerous manoeuvre.
- Request we attack immediately. - No, wait.
Madam President!
He's eclipsed, so Tarrant can't know he's there.
But he suspects, he's no fool.
Madam President, I must counsel that you attack now.
No, this time, we get it right.
But if only for the sake of your position, your esteem.
My what?
They're talking below decks, Madam.
- I wouldn't repeat it, but... - You will repeat it.
- It's all foolishness, of course, but... - Go on.
They say you're afraid of Tarrant.
Afraid to attack, that is.
But of course, nobody who knows you would ever...
- Who says so? - Chiefly, it's one man...
a worker from the construction grades.
An artisan?
He says any fool with three pursuit ships could take the Liberator.
He does?
And what is the name of this...
construction worker whose tactical knowledge...
far surpasses that of my battle-tested veteran starship captains?
- They call him Jarvik. - Jarvik.
Interceptor Leader to Control. Request instructions!
Hold position Interceptor Leader and wait for instructions from Assault Leader 1.
We will attack when the Liberator breaks out of Alpha Sector.
Four should do it nicely.
Well, Dastor, I think it's time we had a little strategic counsel.
Bring this Jarvik to me.
Zen, I know the third one's out there somewhere. Can't you find it?
- Sensors report negative scan. - Then the sensors are wrong.
Run a maintenance check. No, hold that.
Give us a parallax scan on the alien craft.
Parallax scan shows another alien craft eclipsed at 500,000 spacials.
- Avon, Vila, respond. - You were right.
Don't sound so surprised.
We're getting something from the planet.
This is Avon. We're ready for teleport.
Zen, how do we get out of here?
Spiral orbit 0-0-1-4, exit, Alpha 3.
(DRAMATIC INSTRUMENTAL MUSIC)
- Earth temperatures, you said. - Stop moaning, Vila.
It was freezing! If I'd have known, I'd have taken thermals.
Thirty minutes, you were told. If you'd come back then....
Next time, someone else can carry his gear, 'cause I've had it!
Parabolic orbit 1816, exit Alpha 4.
- It doesn't help when you're stumbling... - Battle computers confirm.
No viable alternatives.
Did you get what you went down there for?
Yes.
Where is it?
- A rock? - Something like that.
- Zen. - Just a minute, Tarrant.
Sorry, Avon, we haven't got time.
No, but we do have a superior spacecraft.
Zen, identify that, if you can.
- The substance is Sopron. - Sopron? Is that all?
- No further information is available. - Analyse it.
- Avon, please. - Just a minute.
Sopron is non-organic, silicon-based, and registers high electronic activity.
Its function?
Its function is that of a capacity-charged brain.
Thank you, Zen.
You can carry on now.
Zen, is the Alpha Sector the only safe way out of here?
- Affirmative. - As I thought. Stand by to break orbit.
(INTENSE INSTRUMENTAL MUSIC)
Forward sensors report high energy displacement.
I think she's moving.
Yes, Liberator's breaking orbit. Repeat, Liberator is breaking orbit!
Assault Leader 1 to Leader 3.
Your eclipse pattern is broken. Leader 3, you are disclosed.
Hold position, Interceptor Leader.
Assault 3, are you sleeping? Acknowledge disclosure.
- Leader 3. Disclosure confirmed. - Then get in there, fast.
Assault Leader 1. Leader 2 now disclosed and in support.
Alpha Sector is sealed. Repeat, Alpha Sector is sealed.
Then the Liberator is yours, Leader 1.
Audio silence operates. Command Headquarters out.
- Who is this man? - Jarvik, Madam President.
- You requested... - Jarvik?
Of course. Jarvik.
Jarvik, the construction worker.
What was it now? Any fool could take the Liberator with three pursuit ships.
Well, the Liberator will soon be diffusing itself throughout the galaxy...
as so many billion split particles. So, regrettably, we shall never know.
Thanks to the folly of your president...
who with her aides and her technical advisers...
her battle computers and her captains...
extravagantly disposed herself to use four pursuit ships.
And yet any fool could have done it with three.
Perhaps this particular fool will tell her how.
Well? Have you nothing to say to Servalan?
Woman, you're beautiful.
Guards! Take this primitive to the punishment cells! Move!
Guards!
Take him! Will you obey me?
I didn't come here to brawl with the Security Grades.
Leader 2, you are deviating. Re-establish alignment.
Negative, Leader 1. Correct bearing on Liberator is being maintained.
Assault Leaders, you are on open voice.
Madam President, this is Assault Leader 1...
reporting the Liberator's approach course is for Delta Sector.
Repeat, Delta Sector.
Don't be a fool. Liberator must exit through Alpha.
No other course is logical. The computer projections were unanimous.
Computer.
Re-check coordinates. Confirm Liberator is in Alpha.
Checks negative. Liberator is in Delta.
But he's an open target in Delta Sector.
We're in Alpha Sector, Madam President.
Abort attack. Repeat, abort attack.
- You see, Tarrant has computers, too. - Of course he does.
And they would have told him the same thing.
The only defensible exit was through Alpha.
So he knew exactly where the trap would be.
You don't know Tarrant, Madam. He's a man.
He thinks and acts like a man, not like a machine.
That's why he's still alive.
And you, being a similar man, no doubt, in thought and action...
will know exactly where he's heading now.
Yes. Right now he's heading for the Harvest of Kairos.
- Kairos? - A bit of piracy, we agreed.
Yeah, piracy, not lunacy.
- You said it was a harvest? - And so it is.
Zen, put up Kairos.
Kairos. The fourth planet of the star Xymines in the constellation Lypterion.
- Right in the heart of Federation space. - There isn't a Federation anymore.
Tell it to Servalan. They don't take kindly to scrumping on Kairos.
The planet has an orbital revolution of 15 Earth years.
The fertile zone is small, and noted for the sub-organic growth of Kairopan...
a highly-prized crystal, which is gathered...
in the first week following the vernal equinox.
This is known as the Harvest of Kairos.
Just one pocket full. I suppose I could retire to the lakeside of Gardenos...
- and be waited on by those cute, little.... - Yes.
What you do with your booty is up to you.
We've got to get it yet.
Zen, why does the harvest last only one week?
- No information available. - Speculate.
With the exception of the seven days following the vernal equinox...
the environment is hostile to human life. Possible causes, number 802.
One, infractional radiation levels...
Yes, thank you, Zen. We'll manage without the list.
- What do you think it is? - Your guess is as good as mine.
Fact is, nobody who ever stayed after the first week came back to talk about it.
- Sounds like fun. - I'd rather not take any chances.
- We won't take any chances. - But you just...
We'll wait till the Kairopan's harvested...
and then we'll hijack the space transporters.
- Well, that sounds reasonable. - I think so. What do you say, Avon?
Now come along, Orac. First of all, you say that this is not alive...
and then you say it is more rational than you are.
- Avon. - Wait!
I deny that Sopron is more rational.
Reason is absolute and rationality cannot be divided by comparatives.
Orac, you are splitting hairs.
- Tarrant, listen to this. - Avon, we're trying...
Just a moment. I am about to extract a momentous admission.
Orac, this rock, this Sopron...
does it have a greater capacity for reasoning than you do?
The difference is barely measurable.
- But it is greater. - By a marginal degree, yes.
- There. Now isn't that something? - Yes, I'm sure it is.
We're trying to get a consensus.
Just give us your attention for two minutes.
If it's tactical counsel you want, Tarrant, I suggest you consult Zen.
That is what computers are for.
Now then, Orac.
- Do we attack the space transporter? - Yes.
Tarrant won't attack the fields for the simple reason he can't.
Tarrant delights in doing things people think he can't.
But, no, he won't attack the fields.
You speak with familiarity, as one who knows him.
Knew him. A few years ago. He served as lieutenant on the Kairopan escort shuttle.
- It was his first command. - How could you know that?
- I briefed him. - You?
- I was his captain. - And what crime did you commit?
- No crime. - Don't lie to me, Jarvik.
One word and your life is on that screen.
(TENSE INSTRUMENTAL MUSIC)
Jarvik.
Formerly of Federation Space Academy, now in HQ construction grades.
- Why? - Because I'm a human being.
- But is that a reason to... - And so are you.
When was the last time you felt the warmth...
of the Earth's sun on your naked back?
Or lifted your face to the heavens...
and laughed with the joy of being alive?
How long since you wept the death of a friend?
Doesn't mean a thing to you, does it, Madam President?
You've surrounded yourself with machines and weapons...
mindless men and heartless mutoids, and when they've done your work...
and the machines have done your thinking...
what is there left in you that feels?
- What is it? - The Liberator, Madam.
Tele-sentry stations report an approach course for Lypterion.
- Tarrant is coming here. - I know that. When will he arrive?
Twenty-two hours if present speed and course remain constant.
Keep me informed. And get maintenance to replace that.
Right away, Madam.
The last shuttle is scheduled to leave Kairos at 0815 tomorrow...
and link up with the transporter five minutes later.
The Liberator could be anywhere in the Xymines system by then.
- Are you asking me or telling me? - I'm not looking for impertinence.
You say any fool could take the Liberator with three pursuit ships.
- Could you? - I could take her with one.
But as a man, Tarrant is worthy of honour.
- Three would not insult him. - Then three you shall have.
Mark Tens, the newest, fastest, and most powerful in my fleet.
Your rank shall be Acting Major.
And now I suggest you go and make ready.
But first, there is the question of that degrading...
and primitive act to which I was subjected in the control room.
I should like you to do it again.
(DRAMATIC INSTRUMENTAL MUSIC)
(DAYNA) Negative scan.
- Weapon systems? - Mobilised.
- Energy banks? - Fully charged.
- Time? - 0745.
Right. Zen, direct vision of Kairos. Locater fix on the transporter.
2-2-1-4. Stationary orbit.
Thirty-six degrees. 5-4, steady.
- Sorry. - And the interceptors, Zen?
Eight million spacials, stellar orbit, holding.
- Activity on Kairos? - Affirmative.
So they're still down there.
(SHUTTLE RUMBLING)
Get hold of Command.
Command. Yes?
It's the harvest, sir. It's been good.
- Very good. - And?
We're loaded and ready for liftoff, but....
Hurry up, man, what is it you have to say?
- The cargo exceeds our flight tolerance. - Well, what does that mean?
Thank you, Dastor. I'll deal with this.
How much excess Kairopan is there, Shad?
Weight, 84 units, Madam.
- And are all the labourers aboard? - No, Madam.
Do I have permission to abandon the excess cargo...
or shall I have it destroyed?
Neither. You will abandon the surplus labourers.
Yes, Madam.
Instructions from the Captain. Wait for the next shuttle.
- There isn't another. - One will be sent tomorrow.
Today's the last day. He knows that, you know that.
Orders are orders. You know that.
(GUN SHOT FIRING)
- But nobody lives after the last day! - Then you'll die, won't you?
Ignition. Contact.
No, wait!
Sensors report shuttlecraft launch from planet surface.
- And the transporter's position? - Unchanged.
So, we have five minutes before they link,
four while they transfer cargo...
- less than 12 before they break orbit. - Bit of a know-all, aren't you?
Interceptor activity.
Forward sensors indicate standard defence...
formation flanking the transporter.
- Identification. - No information.
Hull structure similar to ex-Federation Hunter-Killer class pursuit ship.
Modified fin suggests primitive Time Distort facility.
- The new Mark Tens. - You know about them?
Yes. Dayna, we'll be counterattacking through the force wall.
- Bring it into maximum deflection. - On interlock?
- Overlap. Ask Cally, she'll put you right. - Anything I should do?
Right now, I suggest you hold on to something very tight.
Zen, bearing three, standard by eight.
Tarrant's made his move. Sooner than I'd have liked, but never mind.
- Who commands the transporter? - Well, nobody, sir.
It's unmanned and computer-controlled.
They still don't trust anyone to bring it back.
- What about the shuttle? Who controls it? - Capt. Shad, sir.
- Brotius Shad? - Aye, sir.
Well, that's something.
Capt. Shad, I'm Acting Major Jarvik...
under authority to Servalan and in command of the escort fleet.
Hello, sir.
Have you guards with you on the shuttle?
- Yes, sir.
Good. There's something I'd like you to do for me.
I shall expect both courage and enterprise.
You will have both, sir.
Such old-fashioned concepts, Jarvik. Are they really necessary?
With machines, no. With men, yes.
So you won't want to hear the computer predictions.
Madam, in ancient times they read the future...
from the torn out guts of small animals.
Two millennia later it was in the remnant leaves of a herb in a drinking cup.
Ask me, and I'd say that civilisation has learnt a lot to little positive advantage.
Yes. Well, you'll hear them anyway.
Our computer predicts convincing victory with the loss of one pursuit ship.
- I'd rather not lose any. - In that case, sit down and shut up.
(TENSE INSTRUMENTAL MUSIC)
(JARVIK) He's left his keel exposed.
Killer 3, you're in strike range. Fire now!
(INTENSE INSTRUMENTAL MUSIC)
Hull sensors report damage to keel section.
The keel section? That's impossible!
The force wall....
- Dayna. - Yes, I know.
Zen, retreat. Standard by six, bearing Xymines.
- I said, overlap. - I know, but I couldn't find...
- Didn't Cally show you? - She wasn't there!
But she was....
No, I don't believe it.
- Vila, take over. - Who, me?
Stay with him.
- Avon, I can't. - Concentrate.
It's my mother, my father.
I don't know.
Cally, your mother and father are dead. It is an illusion.
- Tell yourself that this is a rock. - But it's not. It's alive.
- Orac, is the rock Sopron alive? - No.
But it's sitting there, thinking.
The electrical impulses are powered by a sophisticated technology...
and the programming does bear a similarity to the mental processes.
But this is not "thinking" in the accepted sense.
- It is, Avon. I don't like it. - Cally.
Is this the time or the place?
That thing has warped your reason...
and your instinct for looking after number one.
We are in danger, can't you understand that?
I understand that this ship is the most powerful in the galaxy...
and that you are the most astute space warfare commander.
Or so you tell us often enough.
- We got it! - Right on the nose!
How did that happen?
They fired through their own force shield.
- Don't be absurd. - You asked, I told you.
- (VILA) We got it! - Yes, I know.
I was saving that trick for when they both attacked at once.
There's only two left now, no trouble.
Sensors report hostile craft bearing 0-2-0.
These Mark Tens can move. Visual tracking, Zen.
Cally, forcewall back, maximum deflection.
Right. Zen.
(SUSPENSEFUL INSTRUMENTAL MUSIC)
He's rolling her. Hold back, Killer 3, hold back, he'll have you.
Wait.
Wait, on the turn. Easy now.
Killer 1, it's you!
Fire!
(INTENSE INSTRUMENTAL MUSIC)
All right, Killer 3, stabilise now.
- There're two ways of doing this. - Fool!
This is Command HQ. All pursuit units in Lypterion...
urgent call to Xymines Sector.
Urgent call to Xymines Sector, now.
They'll never get here in time.
- Just as well, we've got too many as it is. - No, I'm the fool.
Why do I do it? So stupid.
Gently now, Killer 3. Ease your way in.
Prepare to launch.
- Plasma bolt launched. - Visual tracking, Zen.
- Force wall down, Cally. - Down?
Yes, down.
Starboard roll, Zen. Maximum thrust now.
Fire, Dayna, fire!
(SHOTS FIRING)
Direct hit.
Zen, locate the Kairopan transporter. Direct course. Standard by three.
There's nothing to stop them now.
The cream of my fleet, gone! Destroyed. All you can do is smile...
- as though you'd achieved something. - I have.
- What? - I made it look convincing.
It was convincing all right. It convinced me.
Three Mark Tens and 15 years' supply of Kairopan.
You wanted the Liberator? If you're patient, you shall have her.
And what will you take her with?
A Kairopan shuttle? A transporter, perhaps?
Or will you use your bare hands?
What are you doing?
Lie there and keep quiet until I tell you otherwise.
Course I may settle down, you know, have kids. What do you think, Cally?
- What do I think of what? - The lakeside of Gardenos.
We can swim by the light of three moons.
Who could? You and Cally?
- No, me and the kids. - But you haven't got any children.
- Not yet, I haven't. - Vila, you're dreaming.
Two weeks of that, you'd be looking for something else.
- Transporter is in visual range. - Put her up then, Zen.
Feels like we're stealing a purse from a sleeping man.
(TENSE INSTRUMENTAL MUSIC)
They're coming in to dock right under our noses and we're helpless.
Be quiet. Watch.
- It's all right, there's nothing. - Nothing?
Apart from a few million credits worth of Kairopan. I'll let you in.
- Is that it? - (TARRANT) What did you expect?
Doesn't exactly look like a fortune, does it?
You have to spend it wisely then, won't you?
- Just buy one planet at a time. - Yeah.
Well, come on, then.
When you're ready.
Excuse me.
Stay exactly where you are, and don't get excited.
Hold it.
Don't make any sudden movements and get over to that wall.
Come on, all of you!
Right. Now turn around.
Down!
Thanks.
They were an obvious possibility, Tarrant.
We'll get this one. Cally, Dayna, go and prepare to disengage.
You know, you really had me believing in you.
Ready to move, Cally. Whenever you like.
Disengaging now.
(DRAMATIC INSTRUMENTAL MUSIC)
It's clear. Come on!
(PROVOCATIVE INSTRUMENTAL MUSIC)
Jarvik, I've given the matter consideration...
and decided against summary execution.
- Very gracious of you. - Yes.
There's a certain, primitive element in my nature...
that finds you...that wants to.
However, you will stand trial.
Guards, take this man away.
(DRAMATIC INSTRUMENTAL MUSIC)
Capt. Shad.
As per your instructions, sir, the Liberator has been taken...
and now stands off to Command Headquarters.
- You're invited to inspect, sir. - Thank you, Shad.
But as another primitive warrior once said...
next to a battle lost, there's nothing half so melancholy as a battle won.
I never like gloating over a defeated enemy.
Perhaps Madam President?
Guards, dismiss.
Carry on, Capt. Shad.
Liberator, this is Capt. Shad. Two to come aboard.
Teleport now.
Not a disagreeable way to travel.
Cally. How lovely to see you again.
- Where are the prisoners? - Under guard, Madam.
Bring them here.
- And you must be Zen. - Affirmative.
So tell me, Zen, how does one operate this craft?
One manipulates the controls, and the craft functions accordingly.
Yes, and I've heard of your impudence.
Now perhaps you will tell me how to manipulate the controls.
Manual operation is not possible without full-pilot training.
Automatic navigation and control computers...
will respond to certain voice patterns.
- But not yours, Servalan. - Not mine yet, Tarrant. But very shortly.
Guard, that woman there. Yes, that one.
Take her away somewhere, and kill her.
He can try. Or he can kill me here. Nobody takes me anywhere.
Very well. Guard, kill her where she stands.
- No, wait. We'll talk about this. - There's nothing to talk about, Tarrant.
I shall kill your crew one by one...
until you instruct Zen to recognise my voice pattern.
And after that, you'll kill the rest of us.
Perhaps. Perhaps not. I may consider a plea for mercy when the time comes.
- So, there's nothing to gain? - Not a great deal, I must confess.
Unless, of course, you want to accept my word.
I'd rather accept the business end of a poisonous snake.
As I thought.
Well, I just shall have to watch you break.
Carry on, guard.
All right, Servalan.
- If he won't, I will. - No, Avon.
How wise, Avon.
You might have been next.
Though with your qualities, I'd probably have saved you.
Let's get on with it, shall we? Introduce yourself to Zen.
I am Servalan, President and Supreme Commander of the Terran Federation.
Record her voice pattern, Zen.
From now on you will respond to her commands, on this one condition.
- No conditions. - Sorry, too late.
That instruction has to be completed by me.
Unless, of course, you care to dismantle Zen and reorganise the program.
I warn you, I'm the only person in the galaxy...
who can put it back together again.
- Please complete the instruction. - Wait.
- I'll make the condition. - You won't cut much ice with Zen.
You seem to be neglecting the fact...
that I have the power of life and death over your friends.
Then exercise it if you must. But kill me, and you will never control the Liberator.
Your skin always did come first, didn't it?
Would you reproach me for that?
Please state the condition.
Zen, you will obey Servalan's instructions...
provided that her first commands...
are that you proceed to a planet with suitable Earth-like conditions...
and that the present crew is safely teleported to its surface.
Condition acknowledged.
Thank you, Avon.
Zen, you will proceed to a planet with suitable Earth-like conditions.
- Which planet? - The nearest, I think.
The nearest planet of that description is Kairos.
Yes, Zen. I know.
(DRAMATIC INSTRUMENTAL MUSIC)
The harvest week ended 12 hours ago.
Whatever goes on down here is about to start.
If it hasn't started already.
I think we should split up into two groups.
I agree. You come with me. I'll go with Avon and Dayna.
Wrong. I'll work out my own salvation.
However, if while you were working in the port hull...
you'd chanced to look out, one of the deadlights...
you would have seen, waiting for you.
She's yours to command, Jarvik. Under my control, of course.
Your reward for taking her.
Servalan, if I wanted a command, I would have stayed with the Federation fleet.
And as for taking orders.
You really are a primitive, aren't you?
Come.
- What's the matter? - There's something in my boot.
Look at that! It's Kairopan.
I've just done my foot in on half a million credits worth of Kairopan.
Couldn't have been when I was out of luck and looking for the price of a drink?
Only if you were down on your luck in this place.
You mean I'm not?
There's another one here. Identical.
- Do you think you should touch him? - I don't think he'll mind.
That's not what I meant.
Whatever did that's got a bit more poke than a viral infection.
It's also got a penchant for pockets...
do you notice that? The same on the last one.
Perhaps they carried some kind of weapon there.
Labourers? No.
- Let's get out of here. - Tarrant. Vila.
Listen.
Tarrant. Vila.
It was still a costly exercise, Jarvik.
Those Killer-Hunters are irreplaceable.
The Liberator's worth 100 pursuit ships.
Not to mention the pilots. Good pilots. Not easy to train.
- You lost three. - They were mutoids.
Mutoids?
I wasn't prepared to see men die on my account.
I have this primitive respect for life.
- But if they're trained fighters in a war. - They weren't.
They were bait in a trap.
That wasn't a battle, it was a bluff. It was to give Tarrant confidence.
Anything less, he'd have been suspicious.
He might even have checked the crates.
- Clever. But it doesn't prove a thing. - Like what?
That you're a better man than Tarrant.
- Why should I want to prove that? - Because I want you to.
It's one thing to sit in a control room a million spacials away from the action.
But if you're to be man enough for me, to be co-ruler with Servalan...
you must meet Tarrant face to face, man to man.
- A tournament? - Yes, if you like.
A primitive tournament, and you will be my champion.
If it amuses you. What must I do?
You must go to Kairos...
and get the teleport bracelets from Tarrant and his crew.
You don't think they have enough problems as it is?
I'm sure they have.
You may take a small party with you to make the numbers equal.
If it's a champion you want, you'll have a worthy one.
I'll put down on Kairos...alone.
What kept you?
Tarrant, tell me, what the hell is that?
That is a proto-space-age landing module.
Should be in a museum.
(DRAMATIC INSTRUMENTAL MUSIC)
It's not a spacecraft as such.
It wasn't designed to go any further than the parent ship...
or the command module, as they called it.
- Now that might have been of some use. - What happened to it?
The command module? Probably got tired of waiting.
- You mean when the crew of this one... - Failed to make contact.
But you could get this into orbit?
There wouldn't be any point, and anyway...
Yes or no?
- Presumably, nothing seems... - That's all right, then.
- Where the hell's Avon? - He's back. I saw him go inside.
I won't be a moment.
You're back.
- We were worried about you. - No need.
- I've been looking all over for you. - Now you found me.
- Didn't you hear me calling? - I imagine the whole planet heard you.
So where were you?
While you were asleep, I picked up a faint echo on this...
it's very basic equipment...
- little more than primitive radar. - And what did this echo tell you?
We have company.
Up there, a large unidentifiable spacecraft.
The command module?
That's something I needed to think about.
- It's not easy to think with Vila snoring. - I don't snore.
- You can't tell it's the module? - Not without looking.
So I suggest you start thinking about this antique heap of nuts and bolts...
and how you'll get it into orbit.
But the ship up there might be hostile.
Quite. That's something else I needed to think about.
And?
We have no armament. Nothing to bargain with.
Except....
I don't believe it.
All the trouble, the danger, and you're still wasting time with that.
This happens to be the most sophisticated life form...
that it has ever been my good fortune to come across.
Present company not excepted.
- Life? But it looks like... - A rock. Yes.
Well, when you live on the permanent dark side of a planet...
nobody cares too much what you look like.
- But you said it wasn't alive. - Orac said that.
- And Orac was wrong? - Orac is a computer, like Zen.
They react to information, that is all.
Tarrant! Avon!
- Do something! - I think she means you.
Tarrant, keep still.
Don't provoke it.
You, woman. Give it the Kairopan.
- What Kairopan? I haven't got... - You must have touched some.
It can smell it on you.
Don't tell me you threw it away.
From my boot, Dayna. You put it in your pocket.
Human greed. That's the only problem with Kairos.
Everyone who comes tries to pocket a crystal or two...
and even if they lose their nerve and try and dump the stuff, it's too late.
The smell of it clings.
If you've touched Kairopan, those brutes will come after you.
They need it once they hatch out.
They use the stuff to make silk for their little cobwebs.
- It will be back, then. - Afraid so.
But, Jarvik, I haven't seen you in years. How did you get here?
Sorry, Tarrant.
Not the sort of reunion I'd have asked for.
- What do you want? - The teleport bracelets. That's all.
And you'd hide behind a woman to get them? Time changes people.
Tarrant?
Man to man?
(SUSPENSEFUL INSTRUMENTAL MUSIC)
You can have the advantage.
Wait. Don't move.
The bracelet.
I still want your bracelets.
Come on, be fair. They're of no use to you.
Is Tarrant?
If you want mine, you'll have to take it.
There always has to be one.
Don't bother, Dayna. It's not worth the trouble.
I think it is.
Tarrant, you've got about two minutes to get that module launched.
- What are you talking about? - I mean it.
- Vila, get the roof open. - How?
You're the expert. Cally, get Dayna.
Once Jarvik teleports that's the last we'll see of the Liberator.
A couple of plasma bolts will be the last we'll see of anything.
- But there's nothing I can do with this. - You can get it off the ground!
You fight well, but you're still a woman.
If not quite a lady.
This is Jarvik. Teleport now!
Bring her.
Zen, is the Liberator equipped for planetary assault?
- Affirmative. - Good.
The zone immediately below us, in a square of 50 surface spacials.
Clarify your instructions.
I want it destroyed, Zen. Completely.
Where's Dayna?
There was one of those creatures, they teleported.
That's it, then. Tarrant, you have seconds.
Strap yourself in.
Surface bolts have been launched. Impact in 13 seconds.
Countdown. 12, 1 1, 10...
9, 8, 7, 6...
...2, 1,0.
- Surface area obliterated. - Thank you, Zen.
Now, Jarvik, the bracelets. I assume you did bring them all?
Of course.
There seems to be a body in one of them.
Sensors report alien craft...
approximate bearing 4-9-0-3, approaching.
- Zen will have picked us up by now. - So?
So what do we do before they blow us out of the galaxy?
We attack.
Attack? We have nothing to attack with.
Then bluff it. Tell them to surrender.
But they'll know, the sensors.
Try and raise the Liberator, Cally. Open beam frequency.
Liberator, are you receiving me?
- Is that a weapon? - That? No, that's purely a defensive.
An analogue of something that evolves on the permanent dark side of a planet.
A highly simplified copy, of course.
Permanent dark? Are you saying you've...
I've built an artificial Sopron. Yes, that's what I'm saying.
What is that?
Detector scan reveal it to be a high-technology space cruiser.
Hardened self-healing Herculaneum hull and superstructure...
advanced Time Distort facility, speed range to standard by 12.203.
Computer assessment of weapons reveals the craft to have an assault capacity...
marginally greater than that of the Liberator.
Greater?
Self-defence. Some animals bristle out their fur to frighten their enemies.
But that doesn't count for much in the dark.
- So what does Sopron do? - Sopron is a mirror. A distorting mirror.
It reflects a greater image of whatever it is that happens to be scanning it.
Zen saw a capacity-charged brain because that is what Zen is.
Orac saw a highly sophisticated computer because that is what Orac is.
Cally thought that she saw her parents, but what she actually saw was herself.
- And will that work? - Yes.
The question is, what will Servalan see, and will she be fooled by it?
We have audiovisual contact with the alien craft.
Put them up, Zen.
- Tarrant. - Afraid so, Servalan.
And you know what we want. You have one minute to hand over the Liberator.
Failing that, we shall blast her into nether space.
We have one of your friends aboard.
Yes. I'm sorry, Dayna.
Servalan, you can't take this seriously.
- One minute? - And we're already counting.
Servalan, it's a bluff. You can see what it is.
Zen, visual of the alien craft.
Explain the conflict.
The visual image is at variance with 72 scanning devices.
Possible explanation is a holographic projection...
designed to disguise the craft's true appearance.
Servalan, forget your computers. Please!
Believe your eyes. Just for once.
Zen, are there any Federation spacecraft in teleport range?
Affirmative.
The Kairopan transporter, bearing 1-1...
- All right. Prepare to evacuate. - This is madness!
Capt. Shad, kill her.
No, wait. There's no need to.
Jarvik!
Kill me and who operates the teleport?
- Orac. - Avon has the key.
- Are you sure you can dock this thing? - I hadn't really considered it.
- What? - I thought we'd be dead by now.
(MELANCHOLIC INSTRUMENTAL MUSIC)
They've all gone. Except Jarvik.
And he's not going anywhere anymore.
A waste. He was a special sort of man.
Spare us the eulogy. He was a Federation thug.
No, that isn't what he was.
Zen, Servalan's voice pattern, erase it.
Confirmed.
Get us out of here. I've had enough of this place.
(THEME MUSIC)