Scratch 'n Sniff

The episode opens in yet another stop on the crew of Moya’s Great Galactic Bar Crawl. As bars go this one is nothing especially out of the ordinary except for its unusually flamboyantly attractive patrons. Glasses of brightly colored Alien Liquor line a long glowing bar. Alien Funk which later turns itself into Alien Disco, thumps in the background. A pretty crowd of sherbet-hued humanoid-type aliens mingle with the occasional cabbage-headed or antennae-d alien. In the midst of all this, John and D'Argo sit at a little table where John seems to be in the process of sampling a veritable pu-pu platter of the local spirits while D'Argo points out his faults.

John: (with slightly inebriated indignation as he throws back a shot of something) How can you say that?

D'Argo: Because it's true. You're exactly like a Sebacean.

John: In what way am I like a Sebacean? (he lays his hands on his knees and leans forward to suck studiously at one of the straws protruding from a large colorful drink on the table in front of him)

D'Argo: (sulky) In that you think that you are superior. And that you treat the rest of us like animals.

John: (tetchy, as he lets the straw fall out of his mouth, but doesn't sit up to face the Luxan as he demands-) When have I ever treated you like that?

D'Argo: Only every time that we have to make a decision and you think that the best idea is your idea.

While the two men snipe at each other, 3 women sitting at a table a short distance away appear to be checking them out. 2 are basically human in appearance, their foreheads are tinged with metallic color - one blue, the other green, and dreadlock-like hair cascades from pink, blue and orange feathery topknots on their heads. These features could as easily be make-up as their actually part of their bodies. Their black Playboy-bunny style outfits gives them the look of professional party girls. The third woman sits between them and seems to be the center of their little party. She is very petite, sort of generally blueish and fleshy pink in color and hairless. Structures that resemble coiled vacuum cleaner hose protrude from the skin on the sides of her head and frame the area where her ears would be. Her face is marked with gill-like sensory structures on her cheeks and nose. She's wearing a functional beige and black jumpsuit with a wide flat collar and has a rascally air about her. They seem quite amused by D'Argo and John. Meanwhile, our heroes peevish bickering is interrupted by Chiana who bops cheerily up to them with a drink in her hand and much to their annoyance, points out what wet blankets they are.

Chiana: (leaning playfully into D'Argo) Oh yeah! They are going to write songs about the way you guys tore this place up!

D'Argo: (muttering) Great. (louder) Go away. (he shrugs her off and returns his sullen stare to John. But Chiana is undaunted and bounces back to torment them with yet more ebullience)

Chiana: (with a delighted laugh) I am away. I'm- on- vacation!

John: (with straw in mouth, he rolls his eyes up at her and intones sulkily) Pip - beat it. (but Chiana just come around the table get into his line sight-)

Chiana: Has it occurred to you why Pilot banished you from Moya? FLASH to some time earlier - D'Argo and John standing in front of Pilot's Console. The Great Navigator looks for all the world like an annoyed TV judge reading the riot act to a pair of obnoxious, nitwitted litigants. (back in the bar, D'Argo sullenly takes a drink from a Luxan-sized highball cup and John lets go of his straw so he can look up and fix the Nebari with an ill-tempered, pasty-faced glare as she continues) Because you're both acting like a couple of immature dredgenots.

FLASH on Pilot watching D'Argo and John slink away from him like a couple guys being thrown out of paradise. As they go, they snipe at each other under their breath

John: I can' believe you pissed him off!

D'Argo: I didn't piss him off - you pissed him off!

John: You did!

Chiana: (coolly dismissive of their silly spatting) Grow up! Or ignore each other - or kill each other. But just stop fighting all the time. (she takes a sip from her drink and looks around. At that moment Jool totters up to the table, she doesn't hold her liquor as well as Chiana)

Jool: (slurring a little as she makes her demand without preamble) I'm out of currency.

John: Here. (he grumpily pushes a couple bronze squares of currency known as brandar tiles across the table to her - 'ka-ching' )

Chiana: (cattily, to Jool) Playland for the rich too classy for ya?

Jool: (she may be sloshed, but her ability to fire one back at the Nebari remains unimpaired as she gathers up the money and slurs-) Effervescent spirits cost more than cheap raslak. But you - you just keep on hunting for that long range cargo hauler of your dreams. (she throws a companionable arm around John's shoulders as she laughs at her own cleverness) 'Cos he's bound to throw up in you lap one day. (she weaves away to mingle with the rest of the colorful, scantily-clad ladies and Chiana, in her full coverage catsuit, is left suddenly looking rather drab and straight-laced. She eyes Jool as she goes with something like jealous annoyance)

Chiana: When she passes out, I'll - I'll take her back to Moya. In the meantime - (she casts an appraising eye over the bar crowd and swivels her hips to the music) - I'm gonna have some fun! FLASH on Chiana gyrating on the dance floor with a well-ripped guy clad mainly in leather straps - I suggest you guys do the same. (she leaves the boys to their kvetching and disappears into the crowd. John talks around his straw at D'Argo)

John: See what you did?

D'Argo: You did it.

John: You did.

D'Argo: You.

John: You.

D'Argo: You.

John: Did.

D'Argo: You.

John: You - Yeah right. You did it.

Meanwhile back at the table with the blue and green party girls sit - a transaction is taking place. The petite woman, who's wearing white gloves, slides a little heap of green gems out onto the table, and divides them into two piles. The blue and green girls seem very pleased indeed. They each collect a pile of the gems and deposit them into their cleavage before rising and leaving the table. The rascally little woman intently watches them go.

John: (his voice is heard describing the rascally woman as he relates the events in the bar) This alien is Raxil. There's one like her on every planet. (the scene shifts to the blue and green girls as they present themselves at D'Argo and John's table with much eyelash-batting, head-tossing and general suggestive squirming) And these girls? Well - (with a laugh) - we never did get their names.

BlueGirl: Ah - are you boys - a couple? (D'Argo giggles nervously as he and John look goofily up at the girls and hastily deny couplehood)

John: (letting his straw fall out of his mouth at last) No!

D'Argo: No!

John: No! (the scene skips a bit to emphasize their interest in - er - straightening out their sexuality) No!

D'Argo: No!

GreenGirl: Can you handle some girls looking to party? (her line skips too as the word echoes in the macho minds of our bashful boys) Party? Party?

D'Argo: (confidently) I am a full-blooded Luxan. And ladies - I have so much cash in my pocket that I can assure you that the 3 of us- (John, who's grinning like a big dope up at the girls, hastily shows 4 fingers to the full-blooded Luxan Sex Machine) - will be out of here on our hands and knees come sunrise tomorrow morning. (moments later, the boys and their dates pass Jool, who's sitting at the bar trilling and bubbling into a drink, on their way to the dance floor. There, they proceed to dance like the pair of Wild and Crazy Guys they are with the party girls.

D'Argo: (his voice is heard making a comment on his own pick-up line) I've been arrested for saying exactly the same thing on 4 different planets.

Raxil watches from the sidelines as the party girls get jiggy with our rhythmically-challenged heroes. As D’Argo’s dancing - he's doing a variation on The Chicken that involves a lot of head-bobbing) - brings him close to her table, she lifts a tiny atomizer and spritzes a bit of its contents at him. John spots her doing it and leans away from his date to stare at Raxil with furrowed brow. But just as his mouth opens to say something, she fixes him with a gleeful squint and lets loose with a lusty, quite unladylike, “WHOOO-HOAH!” - as if she were REALLY looking forward to a stud like John coming over to see her. John thinks better of pursuing the spraying incident and returns his attention to his party girl.

FLASH on a black-gloved hand lifting a glowing green orb.

Meanwhile, 2 rather nondescript men in black clothing sit at the bar and intently watch the crowd of gyrating people on the dance floor. Both men are completely human in appearance with close-cropped dark hair. One is a beefy fellow with the distinct look of a bouncer - or garden-variety toady - his name is Mitols. The other is a trim young man with fine features named Fe'Tor whose cool gaze misses nothing.

John: (his voice is heard describing the young man as he relates the story of what happened at the bar) Fe'Tor. Bad guy. Dressed in black.

FLASH on a black-gloved hand touching a pristine white dial. Red lights on the dial glow as the hand turns it.

Fe'Tor watches as a pair of male party boys chat up Jool at the bar and Chiana continues to grind happily on the dance floor. Mitols face is intense and unsmiling.

John: (his voice is heard describing the beefy man as he relates the story of what happened at the bar) Another bad guy. The guy with Fe'Tor.

The atmosphere in the bar grows increasingly intense and hypnotic as the crowd moves and the beat of the music picks up. John rolls his head. D'Argo throws his tankas over his shoulders and sighs ecstatically. Raxil, Fe'Tor and Mitols continue to watch and Jool eyes her empty drink glass, as if puzzled by how it got to be that way. She tips it down and watches, perplexed, as a couple drops left at its at its bottom trickle out.

FLASH on John as someone sucker-punches him and he stagers back, one hand clapped over his eye.

On the dance floor things begin to get psychedelic for John. The room seems to yaw sickeningly and the colorful feathers on his dance partners head seem to be flying through the air around him and in his face. A crashing sound is heard.

The music of the bar fades to silence and the scene shifts to sometime later as D’Argo’s urgent, angry voice cuts through the haze of the humans brain.

D'Argo: Crichton! Crichton wake up! WAKE UP! (slowly John swims up to consciousness. He's laying on a floor littered with a veritable debris field of feathers, drink containers and soggy-looking clothing. He and the Luxan aren't in the bar anymore. He fitfully brushes the hem of his green shirt off his face. A blue feather protrudes from his mouth, which he groggily tries to spit out. The shirt is wadded up around the wrist of his right hand and he moans a little as D'Argo barks sharply-) CRICHTON!

John: Unnnggghhh... what happened? (as he comes to - clearly with one screaming hangover - the room they are in is revealed to be a cylindrical shaped cocoon several feet in diameter. Its walls are bands of color and mirrors and it's open on one end. D'Argo is on his hands and knees over John's half-naked, spread-eagled body)

D'Argo: (with disgust) What didn't happen?

John: (he finally manages to swat the feather out of his mouth) Oh gawd - there were girls right? Feathered chicks - the - the Rainbow Coalition.

D'Argo: (he's sporting a fluffy pink pinfeather stuck in the leather strap of his tanka band over his left eye) Girls - breasts. Blue breasts, green breasts, I don't know! All I know is - they spiked our drinks and took our money.

John: (looking around incredulously as he squeaks) They rolled us?

D'Argo: (grunting as he and John try to maneuver at the same time in the close confines of the cylinder) Yeah they rolled us. You know, these -

John: (he looks like hell as he rolls over and scrabbles around in the debris) My pulse pistol!

D'Argo: (he angrily tosses an empty cup out of the cylinder) -shots that we took? They spiked 'em!

John: (he's rolling around on his back gaping about, disoriented) My pulse pistol! They-they took my damn pulse pistol!

D'Argo: (disgusted) No one stole your pulse pistol! We're on LoMo. No weapons allowed. Your pulse pistol's on the transport pod.

John: (he stops rolling around and looks woozily up at D'Argo) I don't remember that. (he rolls up and out of the cylinder as D'Argo heaves an exasperated sigh and collapses onto the floor in John's place) Where are my boots? (as he pulls his shirt on, the sound of tittering voices is heard. He plows back into the cylinder, whose opposite end is a large round window giving onto a dim room. Outside, a small crowd of last nights bar crowd has gathered and is watching them with great amusement. Buff bar boys, antennaed aliens - and Raxil who looks in at them and squints gleefully as she lets go with another of her unladylike whoops)

Raxil: Whoahhh!

John: (very quietly as he stands there with his hands on his hips, and his legs spread - one on either side of D’Argo’s prostrate form) D'Argo. We're in a window. There are people watching.

D'Argo: (he lays on his belly under John and gazes dully out at their audience) Uh-huh. I think they've been there for about 7 arns. So why don't you just get dressed and give 'em a good show sweetheart?

John: (furiously glaring out at the onlookers) I am dressed. (but alas - at that moment he looks down - and realizes what he's dressed in. Under his sweat-stained green shirt he has on nothing but his boxers and a pair of black thigh-high stockings. His hangover evaporates like spit on a hot iron) AAAAAHHHHH! (and with that, he beats a hasty, bow-legged retreat, arms flying, clambering over D'Argo who just lays there and looks back at their admirers with the air of a Luxan Sex Machine who's already been arrested on 4 planets in nothing but the tattered shreds of his dignity...)

(cut to much later on Moya silhouetted against the butterscotch colored planet of LoMo. D'Argo and John have returned to her and Pilot is the person to who they're trying to tell what happened. John is lounging on the Great Navigators Console with a many-strawed drink he brought back form the planet for fortification in the stern presence of Pilot. Pilot is glaring at him, very much not amused)

Pilot: (deeply annoyed) I said TEN solar days away from Moya and I meant TEN!

John: Pilot gimme a break! I'm tryin' to tell you what happened!

Pilot: (firmly) I understand Crichton. However - my inclination is not to accept any explanation.

John: (stubbornly) Well I can't go back down there. I'm persona non grata on LoMo. LoMo non grata. Can't do it. Not gonna. Eh-uh.

Pilot: (outraged by this guys lameness) You return beat-up, inebriated and broke after only TWO!

John: (sheepish) Yeah. (Pilot stares at him and growls softly. He quickly continues, a note of desperation in his voice) But - that's what I'm trying to explain to you! You said that if I could explain it, then I-I could stay onboard, right?

Pilot: (he heaves a great, weary sigh) Proceed.

And so the scene shifts back to John's story of what happened on LoMo. His tale resumes the morning after the night in the bar. 4 bright, circular tents, sunset orange, azure blue, hot pink and lime green are set up on a pleasant beach of pale sand. The waves of a gentle sea lap lazily at the shoreline. Cheery music thrums a mellow beat as crowds of colorful aliens stroll along the strand and in and out of the tents. A girl with spring green hair and clad in a matching bikini takes a drink from a tray carried by a buff waiter as he ducks into the orange tent and passes D'Argo and John who are lounging in the shade on a pair of absurd clear lime green blow-up bubble chairs. John is leaning back in his and staring at the ceiling of the tent. D'Argo is perched stiffly on the edge of his and staring at John. They are not enjoying themselves.

John: How the hell did we end up in that window?

D'Argo: I don't know.

John: You don't think we ah...? (he raises his head to look at D'Argo and jabs a finger at him in silent pantomime of the old in-out)

D'Argo: (from between clenched teeth) I said - I DUNNO!

John: (he sits up and rubs at his aching head) Hey don't-don't yell - it hurts. (beat) Have we heard from Jool or Pip yet?

D'Argo: They haven't been answering their comms.

John: Right. (he flicks his fingers at the Luxan in a 'scat' gesture) Go find 'em Lassie. It was your idea to come down here in the first place. (we thought it was Pilot's - but maybe it was a case of dictating the punishment and letting the guilty choose their prison)

D'Argo: (sullen and dangerous) You go frelling find them. Aren't you worried about them?

John: (sulkily) Aw hell no. They're probably sleepin' off the fun they had last night. (at that moment, D'Argo spots Raxil strolling very slowly past the entrance to their tent with one ear cocked in their direction)

D'Argo: Shut up.

John: (irritably, as D'Argo taps his knee, trying to get him to pipe down and see who he sees) Hey don't tell me to shut up! You know you're the one - who told 'em to have fun! Whaddaya think fun is for Chiana? What?

D'Argo: (as John rants) Ah-ah-ah-ah - shut-up! Shut up John- (he flicks his eyes in the direction of Raxil, who's moving very slowly by outside the tent and casting a sidelong smile in their direction)

John: What?

D'Argo: isn't that the pile of dren we saw outside the window? FLASH on Raxil squinting lecherously at them through the cylinder window, her grinning mouth frozen in a silent whoop of bawdy delight.

John: (he finally sees her and immediately the bellyache with D'Argo is forgotten) Yeah. Smile. (he looks back at Raxil and shows his pearly whites. she pauses) It was also in the bar last night, wasn't it? (he cocks his head and waggles his fingers at her in a little wave which D'Argo echoes - except when he does it looks more like he's pantomiming crushing something with his fingers. Raxil beams and wriggles her fingers back. John makes a come hither gesture and the petite alien woman makes a beeline for them. D'Argo stands and John pulls his vacated chair closer to his. As she enters Raxil immediately begins high-speed yakking - in a comic-book Cockney accent that vastly enhances her annoyingness)

Raxil: I'm so glad you're not angry! Y'know I thought you were gonna- (but just then - they do. D'Argo grabs her and pushes her, face first, into the green bubble chair which both men proceed to pin her down in) AAAAHHH! What are you gonna do? I'm gonna scream! (and she proceeds to produce a thin, high shriek like a whale playing for the crowd at a sea park) EEEEEEEEEEEEEE!

John: (he backs off as her shriek pierces his throbbing brain) No don't scream!

D'Argo: (he seems more tolerant than John of feminine shrieking) Did - you - steal our currency?

Raxil: Wot you talkin' about? I didn't steal anything! I came over 'ere to talk to you - y'know? But you looked so angry before when you were in the winda- FLASH on John in his boxers and sexy black thigh-highs shrieking in the cylinder window.

John: (quickly - in the tone of a man who'll be trying to bury that memory for a long time to come) Not talkin' about the window!

Raxil: (speedily trying to ingratiate herself) Oll right. Lemme give ya something 'ere - I saw it all - they're in trouble!

D'Argo: Yeah - they're gonna be in a lot more trouble when I find 'em! The green and the blue chick- FLASH on the feather-topped alien party girls back in the bar last night.

Raxil: Not the blue and green chick! Nonono! I'm talkin' about yoouur females! I'm talkin' about the pretty gray one and the really annoying gold one. FLASH on Chiana and Jool dancing together in the bar. Chiana is saying something to Jool which causes the redhead to laugh so hard she stumbles backwards and sits down in the middle of the dance floor - hard.

D'Argo: What about them?

Raxil: They're in trouble! I can show ya! I can show ya what happened last night! Lemme go. (D'Argo and John let gp of her and face each other while she slithers around on the bubble chair trying to get out of it like it's a big mold of frictionless lime Jell-O)

John: D'Argo look - Chiana knows how to look after herself. (Raxil manages to get to her feet but D'Argo lays a heavy hand on her shoulder and pushed her back down into the wriggly chair) We gotta find our money - FLASH on a pair of male hands pushing a heap of green gems and brandar tiles across a table in the bar. Ka-CHING! - and I'm pretty sure - that this grommet is involved.

Raxil: (coming up to stand between them again) Waitwaitwaitwaitwaitwaitwait - I've got something for ya - I've got us a recoooording of all that happened last night - FLASH on last night in the bar as D'Argo and John stagger off with the party girls and plenty of liquid fortification - I mean - ya don't believe it - ya can see it for yourselves, y'know? (but this is one female John has an unusually strong Thing against - and he takes his turn shoving her brusquely back into the bubble chair before continuing to D'Argo)

John: It's talking crap! (Raxil bounces to her feet again, she's dwarfed by the 2 surly men, but what she lacks in stature she makes up for in moxy) We got rolled and I don't think we need a-

Raxil: You're broke! Ya can't get robbed again! I mean - whaddaya think? Ya think I want yer shoes? FLASH on a pair of alien feet clad in a pair of nice boots. The wearer is upturned rather suddenly and his boots disappear amid a little clatter of green stones.

John: (eyeing Raxil) *I* don't know - what you want.

Raxil: (eyeing John) You're not very smart are ya? Now he - (she glances at D'Argo) - he's got a brain. But you - you're a bit of an idiot huh? (her last word skips - creating the sound a dumb yokel like John makes “Huuh?Huuh?Huuh?”)

John: (glaring down at Raxil) Yeah?

Raxil: (affecting the voice of a halfwit) Yeah.

John: But, I'm bigger. (and with that, he thumps her in the stomach and sends her back down into the green bubble chair)

Raxil: (backing off the insults quickishly) Oo! Owow! All right! Sorrysorry! Alright. Alright. Ha-have ya spoken to yer females yet? I'll bet ya haven't spoken to 'em yet. Have ya?

D'Argo: No, we haven't spoken to them because they might be sleeping, they could be-

FLASH on Chiana and Jool the night before - gyrating together in a seductive girls-only dance.

Jool: Oh - yeah - princess...

Raxil: (gleefully coy as she pounces on D’Argo’s uncertainly) How do I know ya haven't spoken to 'em yet? Huh? (in a mocking sing-song) You don't know that do ya? No! Well my point is-

D'Argo: (fed up) WILL YOU JUST TELL US?

Raxil: Tah-dah! (she whips something out of concealment and holds it up to their eye level in the palm of her white-gloved hand. They stare at it - D’Argo’s eyes narrow and John squints stupidly at it)

D'Argo: That's Jool’s comm.

John: How do you know?

D'Argo: It's melted around the edges from when she screams.

FLASH on Jool, soaking in a blue bubble bath with a drink in her hand. A strange set of toes flashes by and she lets fly one of her teakettle shrieks.

Raxil: (coolly) Now. Do ya wanna see what happened last night or not? 'Cos I could just - y'know - not. (in response, D'Argo hisses as he and John each take one of Raxil's arms, haul her up from the chair and out of the orange beach tent. Yup, they'll see her recording. As they go she yelps) Oll right! Oll right! You don't hafta push me!

(the scene shifts to soon after as D'Argo, John and Raxil enter part of the LoMo pleasure compound. The area is apparently deserted and consists of a maze of rooms and partitioned-off places where people can be in semi-privacy to trip or otherwise make whoopee. It's a psychedelic pleasure pad furnished with bright curvy furniture, curvy walls and plenty of big, curvy, Peter Max-style sculptures. Raxil keeps up her rapid-fire patter as they enter. Our gallant heroes ignore her)

Raxil: The point is, y'see, we can be friends! Y'can trust me y'see. Everybody trusts me, 'cos I'm a female of my word!

John: (he screws up his face as he sniffs the air) Uugh! What is that?

D'Argo: It smells like-

Raxil: (confidentially) Shh-shh-shh! Close - but no. I-It's miramar root - y'know? FLASH on a container full of what looks like balls of twine. Wild disco light play over it. Kabaah uses it in all his pleasure elixirs. Very low quality. But we don't tell him that. (and without further ado - she turns and walks to one side of the room, semi-partitioned off by a wavy purple sculpture) Mr Kabaah? Mr Kabaah? WAKE UP!

John: (pleading) Don't - yell! (but as he and D'Argo chide her - something beyond the purple sculpture slowly raises its head)

Raxil: Well I have to - he's as deaf as a feather. (she looks at the slowly awakening occupant of the psychedelic pad) WAKE UP!

D'Argo and John follow her gaze and gape at the bizarre creature they only just now are noticing. Kabaah sits on a bright orange ottoman with an extra bright red cushion under his torso. Behind him is the window end of a cylinder like the one our heroes found themselves in earlier. Kabaah is bright green and has 4 legs, drawn up spider-style over his back in addition to the 2 he's using to prop himself up. He has a long spindly neck topped by a head as flat and broad as a skateboard which gives his head and face the shape of a hammerhead sharks. His eyes are set at the far tips of the top of the hammerhead and his mouth is more or less on his neck. Several long, dreadlock-like tentacles dangle off the back of his head. He may or may not be dressed, not that it would make much difference - some of his limbs seem to be covered by transparent sheathing and a white figure like a 6-legged bug graces his chest. A black object like a thick necklace or rolled-up bandanna encircles the base of hid neck. Although he looks fragile - his voice is deeply resonant and he speaks in the cultured tones of a whacked-out college professor who might advocate tuning in, turning on and dropping out.

Kabaah: (irritably tilting his head at Raxil) Go away! I don't need your trouble.

Raxil: (innocently) Trouble? Me? Nonono - you must have me confused with someone else.

Kabaah: (slyly) I'm not confused. I've seen you snooping around - seeing you when you didn't want me to. (but before Raxil can respond, D'Argo grabs her by the arm and pulls her away from the insectile creature on the cushion. Raxil yelps as if she likes the feel of being pulled aside by a Luxan Sex Machine)

D'Argo: (in a low voice) Is that - a Hangi?

(cut back to Moya where John is telling Pilot the story. Pilot has a glazed look on his face but at the mention of a Hangi he sits up and takes notice. He lifts his chin and fixes the human with a carefully triangulated gaze)

Pilot: (incredulous) A Hangi? (flatly) I don't believe you.

(cut back to events as they unfolded on LoMo in Kabaah’s Pad)

John: What's a Hangi?

Raxil: Creature with removable eyes. Optic nerves that continue t'record and send back images, even after they're separated from the body. Leave 'em in somebody’s bed chamber! (with gleeful lechery) KOOO-WWAAAAHHH-HAW-HAW!

John: You brought us to see a pornographer?

Kabaah: (annoyed) I'm deaf - not dead. Stop talking like I'm not here. What do you want? (Raxil approaches him again)

Raxil: I know you've always got an eye hanging out at the LoMo bar. FLASH on the faces of some cheerful bar patrons.

Kabaah: (casually) So-O?

D'Argo: (approaching Kabaah himself) We're looking for a Nebari and an Interion. FLASH on Chiana and Jool dancing together in strobing disco light of the bar.

Kabaah: (dramatically) You want - The Show. FLASH on the bar crowd, applauding appreciatively.

Raxil: Yeah, yeah - that's right!

Kabaah: Who's paying? You don't think you'll get The Show for - free - do you?

D'Argo: (deadly, to Raxil) We have - no currency. You know that.

Raxil: Come on! Ya gotta have something! I mean-

John: (fed up) Aw all right - then we are being scammed. Ren and Stimpy here are teamin' up to rip us off. Let's get outta here.

Kabaah: (insulted) This phanix? I would never team up with her.

Raxil: Wait a minute! Wait a minute! Just to prove to you - I'll pay! (she slaps a couple brandar tiles down on Kabaah’s ottoman) There! FLASH on John pushing identical coins to Jool the night before.

John: Where did you get that currency?

Raxil: (tense) Why? Whatsamatter?

John: All of our brandar tiles were stolen last night.

Raxil: (defensive) So? Didja have yer name on 'em? No! No! They aren't yours - they're mine! They're mine! You two have really gotta work on your attitude ya know that? (to Kabaah, as she jerks a thumb at our heroes) Kabaah! Give 'em a tentacle!

Kabaah: Put one of these on your eye. (he inclines his head, inviting each of them to take one of the tentacles dangling off the back of it)

John: (eyeing Kabaah’s pea-green dreads with utter disbelief) You gotta be kidding me.

Kabaah: (proudly) These will link back to the optic memory of last night, and act as a 3-dimensional image of everything that happened in the bar.

D'Argo: (with slow incredulousness) You want us - to put one of your tentacles - in our eye?

Raxil: (impatient) Don't be such a grimmit! Just do it! (she grabs a tentacle and ploops its 4-toed end onto her left eyeball after digging in it for a moment with one gloved finger to polish it up evidently. Kabaah moans with rather alarming pleasure as D'Argo and John hesitantly follow her lead)

There's a flash of white light as Kabaah’s tentacle makes contact with their eyeballs and they find themselves transported to the bar last night. The sensation is just as if they're standing right there among the crowd as they watch their own stoned carryings-on with the party girls.

John: (gaping about) This - is - ah - This is- D'Argo! Y-you see'n this? This is um...

D'Argo: (as he watches himself bray with drunken laughter) Well it's, uh... it's incredible.

Raxil: (cut back to Kabaah’s Pad where she and our heroes stand holding tentacles in their eyes) Kabaah! Show us the females!

The scene shifts back to the bar last night. Jool is sitting at a table alone and looking bored. She sighs and gets up to go see Chiana on the dance floor.

Chiana: (in a low, breathy voice) Oh hello. (Jool begins a seductive, belly-dance gyration sand Chiana matches her, move for move, belly to belly) I can be bad. You're jealous.

Jool: Oh right. (they circle each other as the crowd clears a space around them and shouts encouragement)

(cut back to Kabaah’s Pad)

John: (sarcastically) Yeah this looks really dangerous. Those girls are in fear for their lives.

D'Argo: (impatient, as he watches Chiana and Jool size each other up) Yeah, all right. Have you got anything else?

Raxil: (she yanks the tentacle out of her eye to chide The pea-green voyeur) Kabaah! Get your eye outta the gutter! Show them later! Later!

Kabaah’s record of the scene in the bar fast forwards to later. The cheering crowd parts like the Red Sea and D'Argo and John watch as Jool stands at the far end of the cleared space. She gyrates as she drops the filmy panels of her skirts, which leaves her dressed in what is basically a black leather bikini. And then, as Fe'Tor and Mitols watch appreciatively from the bar, and the crowd roars its approval, she segues into a series of athletic flips down the length of the dance floor and ends up face-to-face with Chiana.

Chiana: (coolly) That it?

Jool: (as pleased as the crowd is with her performance) Yeah. (but now it's Chiana’s turn. She scans the crowd and makes a selection. She points at a beautiful young man with big eyes and says in a seductively commanding tone-)

Chiana: You. (the big-eyed guy looks over his shoulder, unable to believe his luck before returning his gaze to Chiana)

BigEyedGuy: You want me? (she most certainly does, and as D'Argo and John, invisible to the crowd, look on sourly, he steps out onto the cleared dance floor to face her. A moment later she has her other props ready - a pair of chains with flaming balls on their ends. Facing the big-eyed guy, she keeps her hands low as she begins to twirl them slowly and issues her instructions)

Chiana: Watch. (and as he does, she increases the speed and complexity of her twirling, crossing and uncrossing her arms to create a hypnotic, ever-changing pattern of flashes, whorls and moving helixes with the spinning lights. The big-eyed guy stares at her, a little smile on his face - and as she lets the flaming balls slow, and come to a stop - his eyelids suddenly flutter and he collapses to the floor in a faint. The crowd whoops and applauds - even Fe'Tor puts his hands together for her performance)

John: (the scene shifts briefly back to Kabaah’s Pad as John intones with exaggerated, cranky, boredom) Oo-ooh

But Kabaah’s record continues and finally comes to the meat of the Raxil’s claim. Chiana leaves the dance floor after her triumphant performance and collects her winnings from the bartender, who pushes a heap of brandar tiles and green stones towards her.

Chiana: I just won a bet! Raslak. Make it a large. (she pushes one of the green stones back to him and then swigs the bulb of blue liquor he brings her. John is bored with the recording but still amazed by its3-D reality. He stands next to her recorded image and waves his hand in front of her face. Of course she doesn't see him - but she is recorded as having seen Fe'Tor, who sidles up to her at that point)

Fe'Tor: You smell so exotic. (Chiana turns her head to size him up - and then turns all the away around as he continues) I like watching you dance. I like watching you and your friend. But especially - you.

Chiana: (pleased) Ooh! (the other phantom parties in this replay, D'Argo and Raxil, zero in on this exchange and the 3 of them surround Chiana and her admirer. John remains unimpressed)

John: Oh big deal. She's being hit on by some guy. Knowing Chi, he's probably in more trouble than she is.

Raxil: Wait! There's more!

Fe'Tor: (playfully) I have something for you. (he produces a small vial of clear liquid which he raises to his lips and then holds out to her - wafting it under her nose. She sniffs it - and the effect is instantaneous. Her head lolls and her eyes roll as the sound and motion of the bar momentarily stop for her. She lowers her eyes back to him - and suddenly seems to find him something more like irresistible than the merely the attractive admirer of a moment ago)

Chiana: (she leans submissively into him and murmurs-) You - I like the look of you.

D'Argo: (with deep distaste, as Chiana and Fe'Tor nuzzle) Who is this bastard?

Raxil: That's Fe'Tor.

(cut abruptly back to Kabaah’s Pad as the 3 experience another flash of blinding white light and the sound of something screeching to a very abrupt halt. They all yelp as Kabaah tosses his head back, yanking his tentacles away from the eyeballs of his customers)

John: (clapping one hand over his eye) OW-WOW! WHOA! WHOA! WHAT THE HELL JUST HAPPENED?

Kabaah: (balefully) You didn't pay me enough to cross Fe'Tor.

D'Argo: Who is Fe'Tor?

Raxil: 'E was what I was tryin' t' show ya! Fe'Tor's the most famous kaznick around 'ere. He rounds up all the good-looking ones an' they all just party - night and day! Night and day!

FLASH on a pair of pneumatic doors opening onto a pristine white room dominated by a brilliant red piece of vaguely erotic freeform sculpture upon which is restrained a young woman with lavender hair and a bikini to match. Her arms are stretched up over her head and long clear IV lines - run from various points on her body to a dozen or so white spheres suspended near the ceiling. Another woman, dressed in slinky black ensemble that includes a hood, tends the lines.

D'Argo: (hesitantly) What? Does he - do then?

Raxil: He hurts 'em! He gives 'em the whiff! Well you saw! And then they do anything!

(the scene shifts to the pristine white room where fluid can now be seen being taken from the lavender woman’s body and sucked up to the spheres above her. Fe'Tor, who's exchanged his black outfit for a white bathrobe a la Hugh Hefner, is standing in the doorway - the outside wall behind him is decorated with a geometric maze pattern. He watches as the girl in black, whose name is Theiadh and whose long black hair cascades down one shoulder from a hole on the side of her hood - takes a sample of liquid from a container into which the spheres are dripping a distillate of the fluid from the lavender girl. She inhales its aroma delicately and her eyes roll up a bit)

John: (his voice is heard as he relates his story to Pilot) I'm not sure, but I think this is Fe'Tor's sister.

Theiadh: (proffering the sample to Fe'Tor with a little shrug) Her freslin is still - adequate.

Fe'Tor: (ignoring the sample as he paces over to the lavender girl and looks at her with an air of annoyance) I'm not interested in - adequate.

(cut back to Kabaah’s Pad)

Raxil: We gotta get your females out of there!

D'Argo: Do you know where we can find them?

Raxil: Yeah - got an idea. (she and D'Argo make to leave without further ado - but John catches them both and stops them)

John: (very skeptical) Whoa! Hey! Whoa! D'Argo! D'Argo wait! What we saw is from last night. Chiana could not even be with that guy anymore.

(cut back to the white room where a quiet conversation is in progress)

Theiadh: We can't have another auction yet. It's too soon. Too dangerous.

Fe'Tor: I think our female upstairs may be exceptional. For her - we can risk it.

(cut back to Kabaah’s Pad where an agitated conversation is in progress)

John: D'Argo - why are you believing this Raxil thing here? Chiana was having fun. She could be walking back into the bar right now - we don't know!

D'Argo: Well why don't you go to the bar and wait for her?

John: D'Argo, I-

D'Argo: (he cuts John off - reassuring him there'll be no unseemly Luxan Scenes if he finds Chiana still having Fun) It's fine - I'm just going to go along and say - hello.

(cut back to the white room where Fe'Tor adjusts the dial of the freslin milking apparatus upwards before turning to leave)

Fe'Tor: (jauntily, to Theiadh as he leaves her with the unconscious lavender girl) Squeeze her dry.

(cut to later - back at the beach party. John is sprawled in one of the clear, lime green bubble chairs just outside the orange tent. D'Argo strides across the sand towards him. Both ignore the multicolored throng of romping, spatting, partying aliens around them)

John: (without moving or opening his eyes) Well I've been commin' the girls. No answer. D'you find 'em?

D'Argo: (sullenly) Found 'em.

(cut to D’Argo’s story. He knocks on a door of heavy grey metal that seems out of character in this bright fluffy world of day-glo colors and psychedelic decor. The door is answered by a man clad entirely in heavy black clothing - including a mask like a cross between a knights helmet and an S&M restraint. He is clearly a guard - not a party boy. He takes one look at D'Argo and says in a deep gravelly voice-)

MaskedGuard: Deliveries around the back.

D'Argo: (playing dumb as he points around behind him) Oh! Oh - 'round the back?

MaskedGuard: Yeah.

D'Argo: Uuuuh... Okay. Thanks. (he turns, as if to leave, but instead whirls back on the guard, using his body to propel the full force of his fist into the mans face. The guards mask looked pretty impressive but doesn't provide much protection and he goes down like a hit of bad acid)

(cut back to the beach where it's obvious from the conversation that D'Argo isn't actually telling John what he found and that John doesn't gives a rats anyway)

John: (without moving or opening his eyes) They okay?

D'Argo: (he throws down a drink glass he brought with him) They're fine. FLASH on Jool in the blue bubble bath shrieking.

(the scene instantly segues back to D’Argo’s foray into the beach house where he hears Jool’s shriek as he stands over the TKO'd guard in a foyer lush with potted palms. He immediately charges up a flight of white, open stairs to the Party Pad at the top of the house. There's a big room whose walls are floor-to-ceiling windows that offer a panoramic view of the ocean. It's furnished with bright chairs and lounges and funky minimalist sculptural objects. A dozen or so mellowed-out pleasure-seekers are lounging around and Jool is in a tub with her drink while a guy with long blonde hair plays with her foot. By the time D'Argo gets halfway up the stairs though - her screams have turned to squeaky giggles of sozzled pleasure)

D'Argo: (bursting into the room bellowing) JOOL! JOOL! (clapping his hands down onto the edge of the tub) Are you all right?

Jool: (pleasantly surprised) AA-ah! Oh D'Argo! (but the surprise of the stoned is often short-lived and she invites him to join her in the Now) Oh - come in with me. Come on. (the Luxan isn't up for Fun In The Suds with a dren-faced Interion just now, but the blond guy certainly is and he hurries to Jool’s head to nuzzle)

D'Argo: (annoyed and speaking slowly so the redhead will get it) Where - is - Chiana?

Jool: Over there. (she points across the room to where Chiana is rolling around on the floor alone, wasted out of her gourd and giggling. She waves her fully clothed legs in the air as D'Argo approaches)

D'Argo: (carefully- one never knows how Chiana will react sober much less pixilated) Um... Ah.. Ah - We thought that perhaps you might be in some trouble.

Chiana: I'm not in any trouble. At least none I don't want to be in.

(cut back to the beach)

D'Argo: Where's Raxil? She didn't wait around like she said she would.

John: (jerking his hand with a comic-book whoosh back towards the orange tent) That way. (D'Argo stalks into the tent where Raxil rises nervously to greet him)

Raxil: Oh. Oh - did you see them? Are they in trouble?

D'Argo: They were taking a bath.

(cut back to D’Argo’s adventure at the beach house. Jool and the blond fella snog as the Luxan crouches over Chiana. He notices she's lolling under the watchful eye of Fe'Tor, who sits coolly nearby in his bathrobe and lets D’Argo’s intrusion play out)

D'Argo: (lowering his voice in Fe'Tor's presence as he leans closer to Chiana who burbles and plays with his tankas like she's never seen then before) I uh... We saw him - give you something. Some stuff.

FLASH on Chiana whose head lolls as she smiles and cuddles with Fe'Tor. He shows her vial of clear blue liquid.

Chiana: Oh. Were you spying on me? (she sits up - instantly adversarial)

D'Argo: (quickly) No. No.

Chiana: (she presses herself into his chest, fondling him) D'Argo, I came here to have a good time. Does that make you jealous?

D'Argo: (hastily) No I'm not jealous. It's just that, ah-

Chiana: (a bit woefully) 'Cos you and me, we-we're not together anymore. Are we?

D'Argo: (touching her gently back) I know we're not together anymore but-

Chiana: (snapping him off after her set-up) Oh. Well then - let go of me. (she shrugs him off and then throws herself away from him with a mocking snicker. But D'Argo is determined not to leave 'the girls' with some guy whose idea of a party is to slip them drugs and get them stupid. He stands abruptly, drops the Mr Nice Guy tactic, and yanks Chiana to her feet)

D'Argo: (loudly) All right. You and Jool are coming with me.

Chiana: Lemme go! (but he drags her across the room and begins to pull Jool, yipping and nekkid, out of her tub. But of course Fe'Tor was only waiting for the moment when he needed to intervene and he now rises. A few of the black-masked guards step out of concealment and one or two others who were seated among the partiers rise as well)

Fe'Tor: Chiana? Everything all right?

D'Argo: She's fine.

Fe'Tor: Why don't you let go of her then?

D'Argo: (as Chiana and Jool splutter with outrage) Why don't you mind your own business, you miserable little tralk?

(cut back to the beach where John finally opens his eyes at the sound of Raxil squawking frantically and D'Argo yelling in the tent)

Raxil: (as D'Argo makes a grab for her throat) OH! WHOA! WHOA! WHOA! WHOA! WHOA! WHOA!

D'Argo: THEY HAD WEAPONS! FLASH on Mitols at the beach house, holding a large, decidedly unmellow gun on D'Argo. (D'Argo pins Raxil down into one of the bubble chairs as he points out a few things discrepancies in what she had told him) YOU SAID - IT WOULD BE A PARTY! FLASH on D'Argo at the beach house as he pushes Chiana away and delivers a knockout blow to the guard blocking his exit. (John rolls out of his bubble chair and slithers around in the sand for a moment before managing to stumble into the tent) BUT THEY HAD WEAPONS THAT THEY PUT TO MY HEAD! FLASH on D'Argo taking down another of the beach house guards)

John: (alarmed) They had weapons?

D'Argo: Yes, but they weren't pointed at Chiana. FLASH on Mitols bringing his gun up to D’Argo’s face, forcing the Luxan to freeze. They were pointed at me.

(the scene shifts back to the beach house as D'Argo stands there with Mitols gun trained on him)

Fe'Tor: (smoothly) Please! Please! Calm yourself. I don't like to show force. But you are in my residence and you are attacking my people. Now - get out.

D'Argo: (imploringly) Chiana...

Chiana: (frightened - but still defiant) D'Argo get out! GO! (and with that, the Luxan is escorted out with a growl, by the muzzle of Mitols gun)

Jool: (calling after D'Argo with gay reassurance) Oh we're fine D'Argo! Really - we're just- (just so easily distracted as the blond schnoodles in her ear and makes her moan happily) Oh...

(cut back to the tent on the beach where Raxil, still pinned down in the bubble chair, is making funny noises because of D’Argo’s hands on her throat)

John: Uh - D'Argo? You're gonna kill her.

D'Argo: (enraged) At the moment, I do not have a problem with that. (but people as annoying as Raxil don't live as long as they do by luck. She reaches into a pocket and removes her little atomizer - which she proceeds to spritz D'Argo in the eyes with. He bellows and lets go of her as he staggers back) FLASH on D'Argo back in the bar shaking his booty in high speed.

John: What did you spray on him?

Raxil: (in a strangled voice) Freslin.

FLASH back to D'Argo at the bar, hopped up beyond reason on Raxil’s spritz of freslin. As the crowd jumps to a hard beat, D'Argo obliviously does the chicken back and forth in the foreground and them into the crowd. He's deliberately making his tankas flop and sway like a hula dancers skirt...

(cut abruptly away from that absurd image back to our poker-faced Pilot, shaking his head vehemently as he protests John's audacity in thinking he's stupid enough to lap up this bowl of twaddle)

Pilot: Stop! Stop! FLASH on D’Argo’s flying tankas which suddenly freeze in mid-boogie as John stops his narrative. STOP! (Pilot glares with pure outrage at John, lounging against his Console) This makes no sense! YOU make no sense!

John: What? W-What doesn't make sense? She nailed him with Love Potion #9.

Pilot: (with outraged confoundment) It made him dance?

John: (insistent) Well - it's a way to meet girls. Pilot - just listen to this, all right? This is important. This is about the deal. It's about freslin - LoMo's dirty little secret.

Pilot: (disgusted and almost spluttering with fury) I suspect the dirty little secret is that you spent all your currency on PLEASURE and NOW-

John: (loudly - he knows he can make the gentle Pilot back down) HEY! YOU KNOW WHAT? It's a weird universe out there man! You don't know that 'cos you're spending all your time indoors! Just - let me finish my story!

(and before Pilot can protest - John takes the scene back to LoMo. He and Raxil have repaired to the bar to permit the freslined-up Luxan to work it off. John is pulling at a drink his diminutive companion has evidently bought him as a peace offering. They sit at a table and watch D'Argo and his tankas try to get down with anything that comes near him on the dance floor)

Raxil: (sullenly) See? See why I made us get off the beach? 'E would've been chasing everything that moves.

John: (waving the little atomizer which he's taken away from her) And it's all because of this stuff you gave him?

Raxil: Freslin's an attractant. You could be attractive to someone else, or they could be attracted to you. It could be strong, weak - Anything! Depends on where it's manufactured.

(cut back to the beach house. Chiana’s head lolls and she smiles as she cuddles with Fe'Tor. He shows her vial of clear blue liquid)

Fe'Tor: Did you like the freslin I gave you last night?

Chiana: (she smiles, but wavers a bit as she asks nervously) Is this more of it?

Fe'Tor: Mm-hm. Different batch - Different quality. Want a taste? (his left arm is draped around her shoulders and he uses that hand to uncaps the vial) FLASH on Chiana with her arms bound over her head to a metal frame in a dim place. She looks confused and dazed,. (Fe'Tor holds the open vial inches from her face, coaxing her take a whiff of the blue liquid) Hm?

Chiana: (brashly) Bring it on.

FLASH on the heavy doors of the pristine white milking room opening to reveal the lavender girl mounted on the red sculpture, lines running from her body to the white distillation spheres above her. Theiadh stands in the calm, quiet place, monitoring the flow of fluid from the girls body as she is “squeezed dry.”

(meanwhile, back at the beach house party pad, things are very quiet. A few celebrants in white bathrobes lounge about while Fe'Tor sits on a loveseat holding Chiana in his lap and looking out the window while he waits for her to reach the proper stage of wastedness. Jool is sprawled on the floor in front of them)

Chiana: (lolling and sighing after her dose of the blue freslin) It's different.

Fe'Tor: More bitter?

Chiana: Yeah!

Fe'Tor: (as he strokes Chiana’s hair and chuckles) An animals last batch always is.

Chiana: (something between revolted and intrigued) This is - this is from an animal?

Fe'Tor: Mm-hm. FLASH on the blue fluid traveling up the maze of lines and out of the lavender girls body. A beautiful animal.

(cut back to the bar where John and Raxil continue their conversation while D'Argo boogies)

John: (referring to the contents of Raxil’s atomizer) Is this the same stuff that guy sprayed on Chiana last night?

Raxil: (with a note of admiration) Yeah. Grade-A freslin! Made in 'is own lab. Fe'Tor's got the most sensitive nose in the business!

(cut back to the beach house where Jool suddenly startles awake on the floor)

Jool: (sitting up with an alarmed gasp and looking around the quiet room) What am I missing?

Fe'Tor: (smiling) Nothing. Here. (with Chiana nodding on his lap, he proffers the vial of blue freslin to Jool, who whips around, gives his a coquettish look, and obediently walks on her knees closer to him and the freslin) FLASH on Theiadh as she adjusts the settings of the extraction apparatus and watches golden fluid filling a beaker. (Fe'Tor smiles as Jool blissing on the blue stuff) Wonderful isn't it?

Jool: (gasping and moaning with pleasure as she rubs up against Fe'Tor and Chiana) Aah... Ohhh... Yeah.

Fe'Tor: (quite enjoying the squirming women in his lap) Now - will you do anything for me?

Jool: (ecstatically breathy) I'll do anything for you. (and Fe'Tor chuckles with pleasure)

(cut back to the bar where John sits hunched over his many-strawed drink)

Raxil: (in a serious tone) I think Fe'Tor wants your females for more than just - y'know.

John: (he sits up - probably wishing Raxil would just come out with whatever it is) What - does he want them for?

(cut to Fe'Tor in his bathrobe - he has Jool on his arm and is walking her through the sharp turns of the maze patterned corridor that leads to the milking room. Jool, hopelessly blissed-out, is hanging onto his arm and playing along with his game by holding her eyes shut and allowing herself to be led)

Fe'Tor: (playfully, as Jool giggles) No peeking! (he inhales deeply) Can you smell it? Just breeeaaathe it in. (Jool’s does and her smile fades as the drugs hold intensifies)

(cut back to the bar)

Raxil: (briskly informative) Well the base element of freslin is found in the senil gland of sentient beings.

John: Oh you mean, like in - people?

Raxil: Yeah. (John's a little slow on the uptake. He shrugs and nods, and his nods become bops as he looks away from Raxil at the dancing crowd around them. So Raxil drops the bomb) Fe'Tor's got a machine that milks this gland. (apologetically) An-and when there's a lot of demand, well - sometimes he'll milk them until -they die.

(cut to Fe'Tor and Jool as they come to the end of the maze-patterned corridor - the milking room/freslin lab)

Fe'Tor: (as Jool giggles foolishly) You'll love it. (they come a halt just inside the doorway of the room. The lavender girl is gone from the red sculpture/mount and Theiadh takes up a position behind them)

Jool: (eagerly) Can I open my eyes yet? (Fe'Tor indicates that she may, and her eyes snap open. She throws up her hands in excitement at the sight of the organic curves of all the exotic, slightly erotic paraphernalia before her) Oh wow!

(cut back to the bar)

John: Why did you not tell us this earlier? (but before Raxil can answer - D'Argo decides to join them and share his Warm Feelings)

D'Argo: CRI-! (he falls ever the table next to John's and Raxil’s. The entire bar ignores the resultant crash and tinkle of breaking glass. John and Raxil scarcely bat an eye as they watch the Luxan bounce to his feet and spin around, tankas flying, to see who must've pushed him and where the heck his buddies have got to. He locates John with only minor difficulty, being only a foot away from him and all - and leans breathlessly on his and Raxil’s table) AH! JOHN! (panting) These people - (he leans closer) - will not dance with me! (slurring as he reaches for his Good Buddy) No-one wants t' dance- (well tragically - John doesn't want to dance with the Luxan Sex Machine either and he pushes D’Argo’s hand away)

John: No. Go away! (he proceeds to redirect his freslined-up pal back onto the dance floor by looking out past him at the crowd and gasping) Oh! Oh! Oh! (he points indiscriminately into the mass of dancing aliens) Look at the booty on that girl!

D'Argo: (following John's stare) The booty?

John: (laying it on in a totally desultory manner - but that's good enough for D'Argo in his current condition) Whoo! (the Luxan manages to focus on a nearby female he presumes to be the bootylicious one and promptly weaves over and starts hitting on her as John and Raxil continue their chat without further comment)

Raxil: I should have told you everything, but I was scared. Fe'Tor's dangerous!

John: (irritated and impatient) IF Fe'Tor is so dangerous - why help us at all?

Raxil: (earnestly) My mate - Sarl - he's with Fe'Tor.

(cut to the milking room where Jool peers over the red sculpture and sees the blond guy she'd been making whoopee with earlier, laying on a red cushion on the floor. His head lolls feebly and he seems confused as he touches wounds on his chest from the freslin extractor lines. Jool seems to find his condition quite amusing as his hands fall limp)

Jool: (sniggering as she turns to face Fe'Tor and Theiadh) He doesn't look very well.

(cut back to the bar where Raxil continues her sad story)

Raxil: I mean - he's tall, he's good-looking. I mean - look at me! I'm a nothing! I tried to warn him but... (she trails off, just too pained by Sarl's downfall to discuss it - but she seems very satisfied as she finishes her explanations) I'm telling you everything because when you save your females - I want you to save Sarl. (but John isn't even looking at her as he sucks at his drink - when suddenly, from the corner of his eye, he spots a familiar, grim face moving through the whirling crowd. Recognition register with a “BING!”)

John: Isn't that the guy that was with Fe'Tor last night?

Raxil: Yeah. That's Mitols - his right-hand shill.

John: Well he could probably get us in to see the girls, couldn't he?

Raxil: 'Course 'e can! But 'e's never gonna tell ya.

John: Keep D'Argo busy. I've got some business. (he crosses the dance floor and bellies up to the bar next to Mitols, who barely acknowledges him as he strikes up a conversation) How ya doin'? Man, were you here last night? Was that wild or what? FLASH on Jool’s stellar vaulting run on the dance floor last night to the applause of the bar crowd.

Mitols: (flatly) I drink alone.

John: (he drops the buddy-buddy act and cuts to his point) Yeah, I'm not really ah - interested in drinking either. Um - I'm lookin' for some ah - (he lowers his voice a tone) - freslin - (Mitols head turns slightly) - and I heard that you were the guy to see.

(cut to the milking room where Theiadh closes the heavy doors while Fe'Tor fixes Jool with an intense stare)

Fe'Tor: You like the freslin? (his direct stare makes her nervous and she glances around wildly at the strange apparatus of the room whose organic shapes and silence seem suddenly ominous. She looks up at the tubing dangling from the white globes on the ceiling and the control panel and the fuzzy blue and pink sequined chain laying upon it)

Jool: (stuttering anxiously) Oh - I ah... Ah...

Fe'Tor: Shh - trust me! (and with that, he grabs the confused redhead and pushes her against the red milking mount. Her screams are muffled by his hand clapped over her mouth) It only hurts the first time.

(cut back to the bar as Mitols turns to size John up - and finds him wanting)

Mitols: (with a patronizing smile) Go away.

John: (guffawing impatiently as Mitols turns away again) Okay. L-lemme give you somethin'. Look. I am - loaded - with currency. An' I'm lookin' for somethin' a little special and this is the only crap (John carelessly rolls Raxil’s little atomizer in his fingers and Mitols head turns again at the word “crap”) - that I've been able to find. (and now that he has the mans attention - he seals his credentials with a little name-dropping) And ah - Kabaah - told me that you were the guy to see to get some really serious dren.

(cut to the milking room where Jool gasps and sobs spasmodically. Her arms are restrained over her head to the fiddlehead top of the red sculpture/mount with the fuzzy blue and pink sequined shackles. Her knees are bent sharply back so that her back arches and the extraction lines of the freslin distiller run out from under her bra and bikini bottoms. Theiadh watches the golden fluid being extracted from the redhead collect in a beaker)

Pilot: (his crisp voice, debunking John's tale is heard as Fe'Tor leans close in on Jool’s grimacing face) If they drained that much fluid from her, Crichton, she would be dead.

John: Shut up and let me tell my story!

Fe'Tor: (he's changed back into his black business cloths now and he says softly to Jool) You really must relax. Struggle only makes it more painful. Hm? (he waves a little vial of her golden freslin under her nose, she turns her head away but inhales and seems to calm momentarily. Fe'Tor is pleased) Mm - that's you you're ingesting. (Jool sobs softly)

(cut back to the bar where Mitols regards John with a somewhat friendlier attitude)

Mitols: Kabaah sent you? Why didn't you say so?

John: I just did.

Mitols: Apex of the moon tonight. Fe’Tor’s chamber. Know where it is?

John: I'll find it.

Mitols: We're auctioning some incredible dren. (he produces a small silver cup about the size and shape of a walnut half, cup side down) This'll get you in.

Meanwhile, back in the milking room, Theiadh continues her intent watch on Jool’s golden freslin as it drips into the big beaker. She glances at Fe'Tor who gives her the nod. She adjusts the extraction level higher and Jool’s miserable sobs become an earsplitting scream of agony.

(cut to later at Kabaah’s Pad as D'Argo, John and Raxil enter via the backdoor. Their approach seen through the windows of the cylinders in his place. D’Argo’s freslin high has given way to a savage hangover as he leans against one of the cylinders and peers into the psychedelic playpen)

D'Argo: (growling furiously at Raxil) My frelling head is killing me from that spray, you little tralk!

John: (he stops to urge the Luxan onward before moving on himself) D'Argo, you can kill her later. Right now we gotta get the girls outta Fe'tor's. (D'Argo follows as John passes Raxil, who stands framed in the window directly behind the Hangi, still crouched on his bright orange ottoman D'Argo joins her and they look in at the bright green hedonist)

D'Argo: So what are we doing here?

Raxil: 'Cos I'm gonna help ya, see? I'm gonna make you a sorta disguise. (Kabaah hears their approach and snaps his head around to look at D'Argo and Raxil through the window behind him. But he snaps his head back around as he finds himself beset by John, who strides into his presence with a jovial greeting)

John: Hey! Hammerhead! How ya doin'? I'm back for some home video!

Kabaah: (not pleaded to see these people who really put a serious crimp in his style) Get out! Get out!

John: I don't think so. (he grabs the hapless Hangi by his spindly neck. His hand encircles as easily as if it were a stalk of broccoli) I need to see into Fe’Tor’s compound.

Kabaah: (struggling ineffectually against John's grip) No! I won't help you against him!

John: (loudly) Yes you will or I'm gonna snap your head off! Now I'm gonna see the compound layout. You're gonna show it to me. I don't care if it's empty, but you're gonna show it to me now!

Moments later, with a flash of brilliant white light as Kabaah’s tentacles are placed on their eyes, D'Argo and John find themselves in a dimly lit chamber set up as a kind of arena. They floor of the arena is made up of alternating strips of golden underlit and dark areas enclosed by walls that rise up to a second level. Little standing tables dot the floor in neat rows. The second level is a narrow catwalk whose railings form a horseshoe around the arena. At one end of the room is a low stage with a podium. A gaily colored striped column rises from the arena floor up the height of the room, it's top lost in the shadows.

Kabaah: (his voice is strained as the scene shifts briefly back to him with our heroes glued to his tentacles) Aah - this is the auction room. (the scene then returns to our heroes doppelgangers in the recorded auction arena)

John: Not bad - all it needs is a big screen TV. (but at that moment, he and D'Argo startle as a familiar voice interrupts Kabaah’s recording)

Scorpius/Harvey: (expansively) Ka D'Argo! (the Luxan hisses as he whirls to face what looks like - Scorpius. John seems embarrassed as he quickly reassures the Luxan, who's on the verge of launching himself at this unexpected and unwelcome guest)

John: No! I-It's okay. That's um... That's Harvey - it's not Scorpy. He's a puka. He's... (muttering) He's not real. (John tries to ignore his invisible friend, but Scorpius/Harvey's been cooped up in John's Head for a long time and he's thrilled to get to talk to someone else)

Scorpius/Harvey: (he gleefully circles around the pair to plant himself in front of D'Argo) But thanks to our unique shared consciousness in this situation - we finally get to meet! Ka D'Argo! Give me 5! (he thrusts a hand out to the Luxan who just stands there, staring into space as if wondering whether this could be part of his freslin hangover. John reaches past him and swats the neural clones hand away, he seems humiliated by this visitation in front of his friend)

John: (sullenly) Go away.

D'Argo: (very quietly to John) I've had some weird conversations in my head before, but this - is a little...

John: (trying to reestablish his status as a Sane Being with D'Argo) Yeah I know. Hey look - Harvey just shows up every now and then to give me bad advice.

Scorpius/Harvey: (becoming more serious) And my suggestion to you both - (in an intense whisper) - is to forget this folly! (louder) But - since I know you won't. Circuit breakers - (D'Argo and John's eyes follow the clones arm as he point upwards to a structure above the stage at about the catwalk level) - to the entire subterranean level. Darkness - ah - may be of assistance to you.

D'Argo: (to John) You know what? I think that's not a bad idea.

Scorpius/Harvey: And the milking room you seek? (he paddles his leather-clad belly with satisfaction) Aah! (and then points towards an exit on the arenas lower level) Down the hallway.

John: Kabaah! Show us the milking room. (with a flash of white light, Kabaah instantly moves the scene to the nuts and bolts end of Fe’Tor’s operation. Our heroes find themselves standing in the doorway of the pristine white room and trying to comprehended the strange apparatus with its unpleasantly erotic red sculpture/mount and egg-like cluster of distillation spheres) Raxil - what is that thing?

Raxil: (cut briefly back to Kabaah’s Pad as she lifts one of his tentacles to her eye and replies grimly) That's where they drain the bodies t'make the freslin.

D'Argo: (muttering as he stands there with Kabaah’s appendage pressed onto his eye) Pleasure Planet my mivonks.

John: (the scene shifts back to him and D'Argo in Kabaah’s record. John seems unnerved by the milking room) We - better count the steps into here. (he turns to pace back down the maze-patterned hallway to the auction arena) One - (D'Argo joins him and they return to the arena and count together as they walk slowly back) 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 -

D'Argo: - 8.

John: - 8 - 9 - 10. (they arrive at the door of the milking room) 10 steps.

D'Argo: Ah - 8 steps.

John: 10!

(cut back to Kabaah’s Pad as D'Argo makes his response)

D'Argo: 8! Small legs, human!

(cut to a view of Fe’Tor’s compound. It sits perched on a rocky s=cliff overlooking the sea. The building is composed of a series of wildly angled stainless steel-colored geometric shapes. Cut to Fe’Tor’s window-walled private beach house party pad within - which is deserted except for Chiana who's passed out on the loveseat she'd shared with the Drug Lord and Jool earlier. She startles awake and groans as she puts a hand to her aching head - then realizes she is alone in the room)

Chiana: Jool? JOOL! (the scene shifts to soon after as she roams the seemingly silent compound hunting for her friend. She's wandered into the maze-patterned hallway and pauses, looking around uncertainly. But she catches a bubbling sound and slowly makes her way towards its source - the milking room) Jool? (but just as she comes to the rooms closed doors - Fe'Tor - whose tight black outfit includes 24” long fringe that dangles from his sleeves, wrist to elbow, appears in the hallway behind her)

Fe'Tor: Something wrong?

Chiana: (startled) No! N-no. No. (Fe'Tor saunters languidly up to her. He's clearly more interested in watching the cool swishing his fringes as he comes than in anything Chiana has to say) I-I was ah - I was just trying to find Jool. We should really be going.

Fe'Tor: (caressing her cheek) You really are quite beautiful.

Chiana: Ye-ah. (she sounds sick with apprehension) Where's Jool?

Fe'Tor: Don't be scared. Everything's all right.

(cut back to Kabaah’s Pad where D'Argo paces irritably amidst the neon accent lights and bright Peter Max-ish furnishings. Raxil is working on something)

D'Argo: No I will NOT go to Fe’Tor’s auction. He knows what I look like-

Raxil: (interjecting wearily) I'll get you in.

D'Argo: (ignoring her) -so I won't get in. And you're not spraying me with that stuff! I'm not spending-

Raxil: (trying to reason with him) This freslin will be different!

D'Argo: (talking over her comment - or rather ranting over it) -the rest of my life on the dance floor doing some- (annoyed by her failure to stop working on whatever she's working on) NO! YOU ARE NOT-

Raxil: (her frayed nerves snap) SHUTUP! JUST SHUTUP! I DID NOT DO EVERYTHING, PLAN EVERYTHING, SO YOU COULD BACK OUT NOW!

D'Argo: (instantly all attentiveness) Did you say “plan”?

Raxil: (backpedaling with frenetic incoherence) Nonono! I didn't mean plan - I make a plan - like - like - like plan something y'know-

D'Argo: Did you say that you PLANNED THIS?

Raxil: (backing away from the enraged Luxan) Nononono! I didn't mean that! Nono- (but before D'Argo can inflict bodily harm - John enters with Gear - and talking)

John: I got everything from the transport pod. 2 pulse pistols, a pair of night-vision goggles, 200,000 in tiles so we can buy any - freslin we want… (he senses tension in the air) Ah - what did I miss?

Raxil: (disbelief) 2 guns? You brought just 2 guns?

D'Argo: This little rodent - has been lying to us. She said that she planned all this.

Raxil: (disbelief turning to the outrage of a person who discovers her heroes have feet of clay) 2 guns? I mean - I thought you were the Great Crichton & D'Argo! FLASH on D'Argo and John high-fiving each other in perfect harmony in the dimly gleaming golden corridors of Moya. I mean - you blew up a shadow depository! FLASH on the steely towers of Natira’s illicit bank collapsing with a massive roar amid billowing clouds of dust. (D'Argo and John stare at her a little abashedly, as if they've really been caught misrepresenting themselves somehow) I mean - I thought you'd bring pelshfer charges! FLASH on something detonating in space that looks like a small sun. And a plasma bomb! FLASH on the explosion that detonated the entire surface of the oil moon and obliterated Scorpius' Gammak Base. And a really big gunship! FLASH on nothing less than a Peacekeeper Command Carrier complete with its cloud of small fighter craft. BUT NO! YOU BRING NOTHING! YOU BRING 2 LITTLE WEAPONS THAT WOULDN'T KILL A NEGNIK! FLASH on a negnik which looks to be a particularly repulsive sort of rheumy eyeball lodged in a green-slimed slug. It makes a watery little giggling sound.

D'Argo: (hesitantly) You - have heard of us?

Raxil: Yeah - I've heard stories. But obviously they aren't worth a bucket of dren!

(cut to Fe'Tor and Chiana as he opens the door of the milking room. Chiana takes in the scene - Jool restrained on the red mount, unconscious now. Theiadh stands coolly by as a little golden fluid still wends its' way along the tubes of the freslin distiller)

Chiana: What the frell have you done to her? (she rushes over to Jool and stops, horrified, but uncertain what to do) Get her out of that thing you fekik!

Fe'Tor: Chiana - (he comes up to comfort the Nebari as she repeatedly calls softly to the unresponsive redhead) - she's not in any pain. Don't worry. Eh? Here. (he proffers a little vial of Jool’s freslin to Chiana - but she's not In The Mood now and furiously slaps it out of his hand. It shatters on the floor, sending a ragged splash of its honey-colored contents over the immaculate white surface)

Chiana: (anger overcoming her fear) Enough with the dren!

Fe'Tor: (shedding the sweet guy act) You really shouldn't waste - the taste. (his hand lashes out and grabs Chiana by the neck as he snaps) Now I'll let your friend rest - but I need to replace her with a new animal.

(cut back to Kabaah’s Pad where Raxil is coming clean. Sort of)

Raxil: (not only unapologetic, but rather satisfied with her own cunning manipulation of these phony Fearless Outlaws) Now I knew Fe'Tor wouldn't bother your females while you were in the bar. So I paid the blue and green girls to get you out of the way. FLASH on D'Argo getting low with one of the party girls. (D'Argo, his manhood thus insulted, hisses makes a move for Raxil, but John holds him back - at least long enough to get the full story)

John: Whoa! Whoa! Whoa! Wait - You let -Fe'Tor - kidnap - Chiana and Jool?

While they hash things out - the situation back in the milking room is deteriorating fast. Chiana slaps Fe’Tor’s hand away from her neck and he responds by dealing her a savage blow with his fist. She topples to the floor, her head coming to rest in the puddle of spilled golden freslin.

(cut back to Kabaah’s Pad)

Raxil: (a little less pleased with her own cleverness in the face of the male anger building before her eyes) No I didn't help him. I just - created a situation where everyone- (John lunges for her and it's D’Argo’s turn to prevent Raxil’s being killed before they can get from her what they need to set thing straight)

John: Is there anything else you're not telling us?

Raxil: Nothing. Nothing. I promise!

D'Argo: This little .tralk - (John yanks his arms away from D’Argo’s restraining hold and the Luxan walks slowly toward their diminutive double-crosser) - has been lying to us all along. So, what I suggest is- (but Raxil, terrified, uses what she's got - the altered freslin she was working on earlier. She whips it out as D'Argo makes a grab for her and he bellows as he is yet again spritzed in the face. He staggers back, holding his eyes, then stomping a foot in frustration) FLASH on D’Argo’s worst fear of the moment - himself pumping up the jam on the dance floor again. AAHH! NOT AGAIN!

Raxil: (backing up) Please don't hit me. Please don't- (D’Argo’s fist solidly impacts her nose) - AAAHHH! - (she goes down - but is back on her feet, clutching her nose in a trice, complaining loudly) All right! you can hit me JUST ONCE! JUST ONCE!

Kabaah: (interrupting his guests discussion of It All) Hello...?

John: WHAT?

Kabaah: (with voyeuristic pleasure) I've got a live connection. The Nebari -

John: Chiana! (he sprints for Kabaah and thwops a tentacle onto his eyeball)

Kabaah: They've begun milking her. (mockingly) Think you're going to be - (he finishes in a choked voice as John grabs his scrawny neck to hold him still) - too late.

We can only speculate on where in the milking room Kabaah’s itinerant eyeball lurks - but the scene John watches is seen from some very odd low angles. Jool lies on the floor cushion, passed out, and Chiana has taken her place on the red mount. She is either semi-conscious or deliberately stoic just to spite Fe'Tor and Theiadh. She makes no sound and although her eyelids flutter occasionally, her stare is vacant and her face a black mask. The fluid being removed from her body is milky white. Theiadh takes a sample of it from the beaker and passes it to Fe'Tor, who inhales deeply and is clearly very pleased with what he smells. He approaches Chiana with the sample.

Fe'Tor: (in an ecstatic whisper) Aaah! I was right! You're exceptional! Would you like a taste? (he proffers the sample to her. She blinks, but does not look at him, inhale, or make any sign of hearing him. He looks over his shoulder at Theiadh and says in a businesslike tone) Drain as much as you can.

Theiadh: Without damaging her value of course. (John watches through Kabaah’s eye as Fe'Tor exits)

John: D'Argo - you should check this out. D'Argo? (he turns around, looking for the Luxan to join him in Kabaah’s line of vision - and finds a huge, strange alien behind him. It has shiny black hair through which jut a pair of pointy, pale flesh colored aardvark ears. A couple little antennae stick out of a topknot on its gorilla-like head and its eyes are framed by spectacle-like ridges. Barbels droop from either side of its mouth and a pair of sharp pincers protrude from its chin. John literally jumps out of his figurative skin. He flings Kabaah’s tentacle off his eye with a yell of alarm)

(cut to Kabaah’s Pad - unfortunately the apish stranger is there too as John jumps away from it. For its part, the thing seems perplexed by the humans behavior)

John: WHO THE - HELL?

Raxil: (unconcernedly) Oh - you know - the freslin I sprayed him with radiates 'is pheromones outwards and creates an aura morph. So we oll see D'Argo like this. (Proudly) I made him very attractive don't ya think?

D'Argo: (somewhere between dread and exasperation) What - are you talking about?

John: (uncertainly) D'Argo?

(cut back to Pilot's Den where John leans on the Console with his fancy many-strawed drink. Pilot can hardly stand this mishigas anymore. He has his eyes pinched shut as he shakes his head vigorously)

Pilot: NO MORE! ENOUGH! (he taps the tip of his right front claw on the Console as he fixes John with an insulted glare and shouts) Even *I* am not so gullible as to believe that D'Argo turned into another - (he chokes a little with outrage on the word) - creature! (he lifts his great chin, the better to look down his nose at the human and his whoppers) I do not appreciate the lies you tell in order to circumvent-

John: (righteously indignant - it may be a far-fetched tale, but he's sticking to it as Gods Own Truth) WHOA-HO! HOLD O- (he pauses and collects himself, he knows which buttons of Pilot's to push if only he can keep his cool... He looks back at the Great Navigator and asks quietly-) How long have we known each other?

Pilot: (with deep, long-suffering passion) Approximately TWO - and a half - LONG - cycles.

John: I ever lie to you? Hm? Hm? (Pilot sags a little - he has no snappy response to that one and the human says with quiet triumph) D'Argo looked totally different.

(cut back to Kabaah’s Psychedelic Pad as John urgently herds D'Argo through its maze of brightly funky furnishings. Raxil trails them)

D'Argo: Look at myself in the mirror? I- (he yelps as he catches sight of his reflection and then lets go with a long, strangled gasp of dismay)

(cut back to Pilot's Den)

Pilot: (in the very quiet tone of one speaking to a child from whom one knows one will get a completely made-up answer) And why - does he not look that way now?

John: (making up an answer) Metabolism? (Pilot sighs and gives John such a reproachful look that the human is nearly overcome by the guilt-trip . He splutters frantically trying to regain the upper hand) Look-! Man-! Lemme-! Can I please tell the story the way I wanna tell it?

(cut back to Fe’Tor’s compound. He and Theiadh are walking in the corridor leading out of the maze-patterned milking room area and into the auction arena. The time is nearly at the apex of the moon)

Theiadh: Mitols is almost ready for the Nebari. What should I do about the other one?

Fe'Tor: (casually) Wring Curls - FLASH on Jool, convulsing on the red restraining mount. - Drain till failure. She would only spoil the program. (he proceeds onto the floor of the arena where guests are filing in. Each auction participant lays a little silver cup like the one Mitols gave John on a small underlit white table. An attendant tips the cups up and drips some liquid into them which bubbles and foams - thus presumably verifying the authenticity of the invitation. Music is being played on something that sounds absurdly like a ballpark organ - and the tune sounds like a cleverly disguised variation on the “Star Trek” themes. Fe'Tor cordially greets his guests - and the first one he happens upon is none other than John, trailed by Raxil and D'Argo in his space-ape aura morph look) I am your host. But names are not important - only currency.

John: (he affects a big cartoon Texas accent) Well son, Ah'm yer buyer! And ah - money ain't important t'me! Only quality. (he breezily tosses Fe'Tor his money bag of 200,000 tiles as if daring this pissant to count 'em. He then winks and clicks the side of his tongue) Know what Ah mean?

FLASH on John in the milking room, the red mount is empty and he reels backwards as someone sucker-punches him.

Fe'Tor: You've come to the right auction then. (he tosses the bag back to John) May I suggest - the Nebari. FLASH on a groggy-looking Chiana, dangling by her bound hands from a metal frame. (Fe'Tor continues in the rapturous whisper of a true gourmand) Finest I've ever tasted.

John: Raht. (he and his 2-person entourage start to move past Fe'Tor out onto the arena floor. Raxil ducks her head low and tries to conceal herself between the men - but Fe'Tor spots her)

Fe'Tor: (mildly surprised) Raxil! (she stops to face him, her companions stop too) Alive still! I thought you'd given the freslin trade away after your disaster on Elepuria.

Raxil: (anxious to remove herself from his consciousness) Well yeah - I did lemme tell ya. But uh - things change. (she moves quickly off) FLASH on Raxil in Fe’Tor’s milking room. The lights are flashing as she triumphantly squints at a clear data chip in her hand, plants a big kiss on it, and scurries away into the dark.

Fe'Tor: (calling after her unconcernedly) Enjoy! Bid high. (D'Argo brings up the rear of our little threesome and he averts his face as he tries to slide Fe'Tor. But the Drug Lord catches him by the arm) Excuse me. Do I know you? FLASH on D'Argo wreaking havoc at Fe’Tor’s beach house party pad.

Now Luxans aren't really known for their fast thinking and D'Argo is no exception. He's stuck for an answer. But luckily at that moment an attractive woman enters the arena. As she passes between D'Argo and Fe'Tor she eyes the aura morphed Luxan with admiration and says “Hi!” in a tone that lets him know she thinks he's just one heck of a hunk. Fe'Tor looks surprised and the incident seems to jog D’Argo’s wits.

D'Argo: (exhaling appreciatively as he watches the woman walk on by) I ah - I doubt it. I've become a - A new man recently.

FLASH on Kabaah and Raxil admiring a modestly smiling, aura morphed D'Argo as the petite woman says proudly-

Raxil: I made him very attractive.

Fe'Tor seems willing to defer to this guys good looks since the fellow he was thinking of was the sort of mud fence no-one would even want to dance with and D'Argo passes into the arena. The scene shifts to later - the auction is in progress, Mitlols acts as the auctioneer. The crowd on the auction floor is small, but select as they eye the merchandise displayed on the stage. The merchandise is people, sold, evidently, as personal freslin cows to the rich and amoral. Bids are registered by raising tennis ball sized glowing orbs that come in a rainbow of colors.

Mitols: 15,000 on my right! Have I any further bids? (an orb is raised and a chime sounds) 16,000! 16,000 on my left! There! Any further bids? Going once, twice, three times - are you all done? 16,000! Sold for 16,000 brandars!

A smattering of polite applause marks the genial conclusion of bidding on that “item.” But D'Argo and John are interested in a different lot. They're hunting Raxil, who's gone up onto the catwalk overlooking the auction floor. She's leaning despondently on the railing watching the crowd as her 'partners' approach. They yank her away from the railing and indulge in another little team catch-up.

John: (as much an accusation as a question) You traded freslin?

FLASH on Raxil in Fe’Tor’s vacant milking room dancing a gleeful jig with the clear data chip.

Raxil: Waitwaitwaitwait! Years ago! Never killed anybody! None of it!

D'Argo: None of it, my ass! (they yank her back to the railing and the 3 of them stand there, being seen and watching the goings-on as they continue their conversation)

Raxil: (concerned about D'Argo screwing up any chance they might of er - rescuing her mate) Nonononono! My point is - you must calm down! Increased oxygenation hastens the metabolism of the freslin!

John: (somewhere between alarm and relief) It's gonna wear off?

Raxil: Not for a while - not if he stays calm! FLASH on the aura morphed D'Argo throwing his head back and letting loose with an enraged roar. (Raxil eyes D'Argo and intones-) Calm. Anger - bad.

John: (sensing the Luxans blood pressure rising already as they watch a woman tease her newly purchased freslin cow - a frightened-looking grey-skinned man) D'Argo - be cool, man. We buy the girls, Raxil’s mate if we can. No guns. No killing - FLASH on screaming people fleeing the auction floor. - And we're outta here.

D'Argo: I'll watch you from up here. (as John returns to the auction floor, the ballpark organ announces the next event on the nights agenda)

Mitols: Distinguished friends! We now come to the sale you've been waiting for! I present - the Olfactory Genius - Heska Fe'Tor! (and with that - Fe'Tor leaps, fringe a-flying, out onto the stage like a rock star to the applause of the crowd. As he blows kisses and confetti to his public, a stupified-looking Chiana is led into the merchandise area behind him)

John: (his voice is heard in a personal comment as the action freezes Fe’Tor’s smug face for an instant) Does this guy just scream Vegas or what?

The scene of Mitols announcement and Fe’Tor’s flamboyant entrance rewinds and plays back in case anyone missed the Vegas-worthiness of this Liberace-esque space oddity - and then continues on as Fe'tor gets down to business.

Fe'Tor: Friends! Welcome! Thank you for coming at such short notice. What a fine auction this will be! May I present to you - Chi-ah-nah! (as he has spoken, our heroine has been chained by her arms over her head, to a metal frame on the stage. Her confused eyes stare out at the crowd) FLASH on her smiling as she takes her first whiff of freslin from Fe’Tor’s vial of clear liquid back at the bar.

Raxil: (cut briefly to her murmuring to D'Argo, whose eyes are getting very narrow as they watch from the catwalk) Met-ab-o-lism Luxan...

Fe'Tor: Bidding starts at 25,000.

Tinaco: (he's a human-looking man wearing a black outfit with a hood. This ensemble is accented by a white ruffled ascot and cuffs. He raises his glowing green orb with a black-gloved hand) 25,000.

Chiana’s' price rises fast as grinning bidders vie with each other for the prize. 30,000. 40,000. 50,000. 55,000. 60,000! The crowd oohs at the stratospheric price climb. And then Tinaco makes it known he means business.

Tinaco: 85,000. (the ballpark organ strikes a dramatic chord)

Fe'Tor: (positively glowing) What a wonderful bid Heska Tinaco! Are there any others? (he waits, but this auction just became too rarefied for most) No?

John: (but not too rarefied for a pretend Texas oilman with a cartoon accent) 125,000. (the ballpark organ now feels the need to play a ludicrous little riff at every bid as John tosses his Big Money Bag at the base of the stage in front of everyone. You know you really never want to tip your wad in an auction but leave it to any color of John to overdo it...)

Tinaco: (unfazed by Tex) 130,000. (John casts Mr Ruffles a hostile look) FLASH on people screaming as they flee the auction floor and John levels a pulse gun at Tinaco, who has both arms around Chiana, holding her in front of him.

John: (returning his eyes to the stage) If you don't mahnd Ah'd like t' take a closer look at the carcassss...

Fe'Tor: (ever so pleased) Be my guest. (as John steps up close to his shackled shipmate, D'Argo smiles at the woman who said “Hi” to him earlier. She's come up to stand next to him and give him the eye)

John: (murmuring to Chiana) Hey Pip - can you hear me? (up on the catwalk Raxil notices D’Argo’s admirer and interposes herself between them to be sure there won't be any fast metabolizing going on up there. “Go away!” she hisses at the woman - and gives her a shove just to be sure she pushes off pronto)

Chiana: (in a woozy murmur as she recognizes John) What took you so long?

FLASH on Fe'Tor taking a boot to his face which sends him sprawling on the floor of the milking room.

John: (having determined Chiana was still among the brained, he turns away and bids) 150,000! (the crowd murmurs, the organ twinkles - and Tinaco cautiously ups the ante)

Tinaco: 151. (Fe'Tor looks expectantly at John, who raises his chin thoughtfully as the corner he's being backed into gets tighter)

FLASH on the auction floor crowd screaming and scattering as John raises his pulse gun at Tinaco, who's holding Chiana in his arms in front of him. The FLASH repeats itself to that point and then continues on as Chiana turns on Tinaco and John fires - over their heads at the circuit breakers. As the explosion from the blast clears, Tinaco finds himself the recipient of a sharp little Nebari knee to his groin.

John: You mahnd cuttin' this heifer down so Ah kin take a closer look? (this is the best auction Fe'Tor's ever had - he's only too happy to signal Chiana to be loosed. John nonchalantly tosses and catches his orb while he waits, and a very woozy Chiana is soon delivered to his arms. They sway as he supports her languidly in his arms. Her limp body hangs, her back to his front as he bends his head close to her neck, ostensibly to catch her quality scent. D'Argo and Raxil watch intently as her head lolls back on his shoulder, uncertain of what cue all this might be signaling. John whispers in Chiana’s ear) Where's Jool?

Chiana: (weakly) Milking room.

(cut to the catwalk where D'Argo rumbles and averts his eyes from the sight of John checking out HIS former heifer - WE MEAN - GIRLFRIEND)

Raxil: (apprehensive) Waitwaitwaitwait - is she yours?

D'Argo: Used to be.

Raxil: (urgently attempting to prevent her hot headed companion from blowing their cover) Look - you've got freslin boiling your brain! Everything you feel's way out o' whack! What's goin' on down there - that's an act! E's just pretending to be a buyer!

(cut back to the auction floor)

John: 175.

Tinaco: 250. (Fe'Tor looks as if his prayers have been answered and the organ positively creams aurally)

Mitols: One quarter million brandars! (the crowd applauds and John glances grimly up at his partners. D'Argo looks back at him. It's over. They tried to do things the nice way)

FLASH on D'Argo, John and Scorpius/Harvey standing in Kabaah’s memory record of the auction arena.

Scorpius/Harvey: (pointing) Circuit breakers - to the entire subterranean level.

John: Ah kin double that bid if ya give me some more ti-

Fe'Tor: No more time. Currency - on hand. Top the bid now - or step aside. FLASH on Fe'Tor and John in the milking room as the Drug Lord whips the long fringe on his sleeves around the humans neck and jerks it back sharply. (John's bidding orb goes dark and he hands it - and the merchandise over to Fe'Tor, and then steps down to collect his Not So Big After All, Money Bag. Fe'Tor cries jubilantly) SOLD! TO HESKA TINACO FOR 250,000 BRANDARS! (he shoves Chiana into the arms of her smiling new owner as the ballpark organ chortles happily)

(meanwhile, D'Argo turns away from the railing in disgust and stalks towards John who's on his way up to join them - FLASH on John, with Chiana lolling in his arms, his nose close to ear. As the human and the Luxan meat, John is taken by surprise at the rather less than comradely greeting he gets)

D'Argo: DID YOU HAVE TO CARESS HER WHOLE BODY! (he nearly knocks John off his feet with a powerful shove. A couple people below glance up at the commotion)

John: Oh for cryin' out loud!

Raxil: It's just the freslin! It makes 'im - y'know -

D'Argo: (to Raxil) SHUTUP!

John: (also to Raxil) Shut up! (he returns his attention to the hormonally fortified buddy and outlines Plan B in simple, slow terms, that a semi-whacked-out Luxan Sex Machine might get) Listen up - Mr Horny Toad! Jool's still in the milking room. I'm gonna hit the lights and get Chiana.

D'Argo: (panting heavily) Good.Goodgoodgood... (he sounds as woozy as Chiana looks in the arms of a pleased Tinaco as he reclines with her on his belly) Ah - we'll get Jool - (he tilts his head towards Raxil) - and her mate - FLASH on Sarl nuzzling Jool in the tub at Fe’Tor’s beach pad. - and then we'll wait.

John: And remember - 10 steps down the hall. FLASH on the maze-patterned hallway leading to the milking room.

D'Argo: 8 steps, human.

John: (as he hands his bag to Raxil and heads back down to the auction floor) Don't do anything till I hit the lights.

FLASH on D'Argo in his normal look, savagely taking sown a guard on the catwalk.

D'Argo: (mumbling as he struggles with what looks like withdrawal symptoms) No no... Yeah the lights... FLASH on the circuit breakers as they explode in a spray of sparks like fireworks. Good. FLASH on Raxil aiming the first spritz of freslin at him back in the bar. (the Luxan seems unable to reconcile time lines of events past, present and future) FLASH on D'Argo with the party girls he brays with drunken laughter. (he turns savagely on Raxil and drives her tiny body against the wall) FLASH on Jool, convulsing on the red mount as the freslin distiller drains her. (he pauses over Raxil, who is pinned helplessly against the wall, clutching John's bag) FLASH on Chiana shackled to the metal frame on the auction stage (he says in a low tone to Raxil) This is all your fault! FLASH on a woozy, rapid-fire montage of unhappy memories and premonitions of the LoMo holiday - D'Argo whooping it up on the dance floor. Mitols leveling his gun at D’Argo’s face. D'Argo attacking a guard at the beach house. John being sucker-punched in the milking room. D'Argo taking out another beach house guard. Coming to with John in the cylinder window. Tinaco’s green auction orb registering a bid. (Raxil squeaks for her life, in a panic as he bellows) IF YOU HADN'T BRIBED - FLASH on the blue and green party girls. - THOSE WOMEN IN THE BAR-

Raxil: (the pitch of her voice increasing with the degree of his rage) EASY LUXAN! EEEEASY! (but D'Argo is freslin-fried if ever anyone had been freslin-fried and he stops - taking several great swallows of air before throwing his head back and letting loose with full-throated roar of rage and pain)

And with that - both the aura morph and another of our heroes best-laid plans are blown. D’Argo’s pheromone-induced looks shimmer away like a fairy gift - (or curse, depending on your taste) The crowd below looks up at the ruckus and witnesses D’Argo’s Cinderella moment. John who had left specific instructions to do nothing until the lights were out - is still on the stairs to the arena floor.

Mitols: IT'S THE LUXAN! (John doesn't seem surprised as he makes his way to the arena floor) SECURITY, MOVE!

D'Argo: ( he's in his normal state of mind now as he watches an armed guard arrive on the catwalk and mutters) Frell. (he turns to flee but finds himself facing another guard approaching from the other way. Fight then. He turns on the first guard and takes him out before he can squeeze off a shot, then uses the mans gun to take down the second guard. The crowd on the auction floor screams and scatters for the exits)

Meanwhile, John lurks near the foot of the stairs as screaming people and armed guards swirl around him. But there's nothing to do but work with what he's got and he plunges out onto the chaotic arena floor while D'Argo continues to be a large distracting on the catwalk. Fe'Tor lurks in the shadows at the side of the stage and Tinaco isn't leaving without Chiana. But moving the well-tenderized Nebari is like trying to flip a large futon by yourself, so it's slow going. D'Argo manages to clear a path off the catwalk and heads out, Raxil in tow. John approaches the stage where the winning bidder is still trying to shift his lot. He raises his pulse gun at them and says-

John: Raise ya 50 dollahs.

Whether due to the sight of a pulse gun aimed at her or whether Chiana had been deliberately misrepresenting the degree of her grogginess - she suddenly comes to madly squirming life in Tinaco’s arms and he finds himself the recipient of a sharp little Nebari knee to his groin. John fires, over their heads and into the bank of circuit breakers high on the wall behind the stage. Sparks spray from the damaged breakers like fireworks.

In the milking room, where Jool’s body is very still upon the red mount, Theiadh looks up as the lights begin to dim and flare fitfully.

D'Argo and Raxil arrive on the arena floor, still beset by Mitols rapidly diminishing security force. The Luxan guns down another one and he and his petite accomplice plunge through the rear exit towards the milking room.

John fires another round into the circuit breakers as people dash about, screaming in a complete panic. He also shoots a guard foolish enough to step up behind Chiana, presumable to help Tinaco retain his purchase. The lights go out and John dons the night vision goggles - (he was carrying all this gear in his jacket BTW - so much for LoMo security) - which reveal Chiana still taking out her aggression on Tinaco.

John: CHIANA! (he pulls her off the Big Winner of Fe’Tor’s auction and makes for the milking room, cutting down any of Mitols guards that stumble into his line of fire)

(cut to the inky blackness in the maze-patterned hallway where the voices of D'Argo and Raxil are heard bickering in the dark)

Raxil: No no - that's not right.

D'Argo: It's 8!

Raxil: No no - he said 10. (emergency lights begin to strobe)

D'Argo: (like a man being driven mad by relentless, passive, nagging) Shut up! I know what I'm talking about! It's 8! You're making me lose my place! 8! 8! Shut up!

Raxil: You're wrong! (it's hard to see in strobe light and D'Argo yelps as a thud approximately as loud as Luxan walking into a wall is heard)

In the milking room, Theiadh looks sharply at the door as she hears the yelp and thud. She quietly moves away from it.

D'Argo: (grudgingly) Okay - 10.

It's only been about 5 seconds Farscape time, since John and Chiana’s progress was last checked on. They're still on their way off the arena floor, Chiana lets loose with one of her exuberant Nebari war whoops as the human takes down every guard in sight.

Back in the milking room where Theiadh retrieves a gun and ducks behind the red sculpture upon which Jool is still mounted. D'Argo and Raxil enter and the Luxan makes straight for Jool. But as he nears the mount - Theiadh rises into view, her gun at the ready)

Theiadh: Drop your weapons. (but D'Argo's had about all he's having today. Without a missing a beat, he opens his mouth and with a guttural snarl, lashes her with his whip-like tongue through the maze of lines leading from Jool’s inert body. Theiadh drops like a rock as her partner in crime, Fe'Tor, is seen moving through the hall leading to the milking room)

D'Argo: (leaning close to his Interion shipmate) Jool - are you okay? (her eyelids flutter at the sound of his voice but she isn't able to respond verbally. D'Argo looks to Raxil who's staring at Sarl, sprawled on the floor cushion behind the mount) Who's that?

Raxil: (softly) That's my mate. He's dead.

Moments later - Chiana and John now enter the maze patterned hall a few seconds behind Fe'Tor - although where the fringed Drug Lord has got to has got to is unclear in the strobe lit gloom - for they run into D'Argo carrying Jool out. She's found the strength to wail a sorry plea for help.

Jool: (feebly) D'Argo! Save me!

D'Argo: Crichton!

John: D'Argo! Where's Raxil?

D'Argo: (indicating the milking room) In there- the mate is dead.

John: Right. Meet you in the transport pod. (Chiana seems reluctant to be pulled away from her ravaged friend, but John doesn't let go of her as he proceeds into the milking room calling in a loud whisper) Raxil! (the petite alien woman pops up into view from where she'd been crouching by the freslin extractor control console. Her voice is quivering - but not with grief)

Raxil: (almost piddling with triumphant excitement as she holds up a clear data chip) THIS - is my honey! (Chiana and John stare at the impishly gleeful woman uncomprehendingly) The brains of the machine! (she plants a kiss on the chip) My design! HUAW! He stole it! Sold it! (she points at Sarl. Chiana and John exchange a glance that says “Oh GAWD!” Raxil proceeds to dance a little Rumplestiltskin jig with her “honey” and chortle like the very low-class alien she is) Fe'Tor didn't even know it was mine! Ooh-HUAW-HUAW-HUAW! Worth and fortune an' all! (she does a cockroachy, bowlegged little gallop out of the room, passing between Chiana and John as she goes. They don't even try to stop her. John in particular looks like he doesn't even want to know anymore as Raxil unladylike guffaws recede into the distance) Hoo-hoo-HUAW-HUAW-HUAW!

Chiana: (clearly understanding that comment on that whole scene would be superfluous, she changes the subject) How's your neck?

John: It's fine. I don't mind stickin' it out for ya.

Chiana: (her breathing is shaky as she takes the night vision goggles off his head) You don't want these broken.

John: You okay?

Chiana: Yeah.

John: Good. (Chiana stares into his face a moment longer - and then jogs off back the way they came)

John: (he shakes his head a bit as he watches her go and glances back at the milking room) Weird. (he then starts to follow her out. mission accomplished - but is suddenly sucker-punched by an assailant who seems to appear out of nowhere. John staggers back and Fe'Tor steps into view as he lays another one on our hero. He can't even recover before a third blow is landed and the Drug Lord takes advantage of his disorientation to sling the long fringes on one of his sleeve around the humans neck and yank his head viciously backwards)

Fe'Tor: (intense whisper) You ruined everything. (John can't loosen Fe'tor’s fashionable garrote, so he scrabbles at his belt for his pulse gun, then raises it backwards and upside-down over head. But the attempt is wildly unsteady and Fe'Tor is able to knock the gun out of his hand - but in doing so must let go of his auction-spoiler with one had. John is able to extricate himself from the fringe and deliver an over-the-shoulder jab to Fe’Tor’s jaw - which sends the evil pheromone pusher sprawling. John makes to get away and regroup - but Fe'Tor manages to regroup first - and the human finds himself staring down the barrel of his own gun in the hand of his opponent, who whispers a truly despicable insult at him) Skreetuk! (but before he can pull the trigger - his attention is drawn by the loud, appreciative sound of someone smelling something really good - Chiana has re-entered the room and is standing by the big beaker of Jool’s golden freslin)

Chiana: mMMmMM! (she fixes Fe'Tor with a dangerous stare) You smell - exotic! (and with that - she heaves the entire contents of the beaker in his face. A look of stunned horror crosses his face before he drops the gun - and a terrible scream rips up from his belly as he collapses to the floor. And then, as John watches, stunned by her fury, Chiana proves that hell hath no fury like a Nebari drugged, milked and auctioned off - not to mention her girlfriend being blown off and nearly sucked dry too. She approaches Fe'Tor as he writhes and gasps on the floor - and delivers vicious kick to hs face that flips him over onto his back. She then picks up a smaller vial of Jool’s freslin and crouches next to him, smiling) Smell this! (she dumps the vials contents down his throat as he chokes - quite literally - on desire itself. It's a nasty way to go as Fe'Tor spasms and gasps helplessly. While he lays there, slowly blissing to death - Chiana hands John's gun to him) Neck still okay?

John: (a bit taken aback as he rubs his throat and reminds himself not the get on Chiana’s bad side) Yeah.

Chiana: I knew it. Sad thing is - he's gonna die happy. (she turns, and swoops out of the room like a woman who's glad to be alive, spreading her arms as she passes through the curtain of extraction lines that dangle loosely from the ceiling. John looks around at the 3 bodies sprawled on the milking room floor - and quickly follows Chiana, throwing his arms wide too for a moment as he takes a little leap over Theiadh and out - and Fe'tor dies without a smile on his face)

(cut to Moya as she floats over the butterscotch colored planet LoMo. In Pilot's Den, John winds up his appeal to Pilot's kind mercy. Pilot is sitting there and making low rumbles like a guy who's been prevented from talking for a long, long time while being forced to listen to crap)

John: And that is what it was all about. (he pauses and in the silence Pilot's rumble takes on the ominous quality of a sleeping dragon who someone is abut to blunder into) Raxil - she was gettin' her chip back and she used us. She USED us man! So it is not - our - fault. (and thus finished - he sucks around in the damp bottom of his empty drink glass with a straw)

Pilot: (waving a weary claw at John) I don't believe you. (he heaves a big sigh and looks down, as if he is very, very, disappointed in his friend)

John: (flatly, slurring just a little) Why not?

Pilot: Too many inconsistencies. Too much -obfuscation.

John: (stumbling over the word a bit) Ob-fuscation? How the hell does that translate? (indignant) Fine! You know - look - you don't wanna believe me? Go ask the girls!

Pilot: (primly) Chiana and Jool are still sleeping off whatever it was they did and I'm not inclined to wake them.

John: Pilot, I don't think you've understood me. Lemme just start again-

FLASH on D'Argo laying on his belly in the cylinder window staring morosely out at the crowd of gaping aliens as John stands over him wearing nothing but a shirt, boxers and thigh-high black stockings.

Pilot: CRICHTON! (John opens his mouth to say something but closes it, looking defeated and abashed under the force of Pilot's baleful glare and raised Claw Of Silence) NO! (he then goes on to render his verdict) I have located another planet nearby - industrial. Comms traffic indicates they have accommodations for visitors. You and D'Argo are to be - visitors. Pack what you need, we shall return for you in 8 solar days. (and with that, he turns away from the human and begins to lay in a course for the industrial park where his troublesome crew can presumably entertain themselves with factory tours and cheap cafeteria food to their hearts content)

John: (in the hurt manner of one who really wants to be given a reprieve - but knows he won't be) Pilot... it was real.

Pilot: (casting a reproving glance at John) Perhaps. John. However - Moya and I desire time away from your constant bickering. And this adventure - however embellished - does not alleviate that need. (and with that implicit dismissal, he resumes his work at the console. There's a long silence as John rolls his head and makes sounds like he's trying desperately to articulate something that might change the Great Navigators mind. He reaches for one of Pilot's claws - but Pilot gives him A Look - and removes it from his reach. The human rubs his face with both hands and then settles sown, chin in hand, with a lugubrious sigh. Pilot looks back at him again- and then says in the tone of bored disgust that a woman might use to make sure some greaseball barfly understands completely his position in her universe) Get out of here.

John: (wrapping the shreds of his dignity around him) Okay. (he pushes off from Pilot's Console and starts towards the door - where D'Argo is waiting for him with his arms grossed over his chest and looking like he expects an awful lot. John can't stand it and turns back to fire off a parting shot at Pilot) You know - you really should get out more! These things do happen! (Pilot shakes his head and John comes to stand next to D'Argo. The two men look at each other, John, clearly frustrated, paces a little and then stops, avoiding the Luxans eyes, and puts his hands on his hips, glaring back at Pilot)

D'Argo: (in a low voice) What? He didn't believe you?

John: No.

D'Argo: (annoyed) Well what was that thing about a slim duck?

John: Slam dunk.

D'Argo: Whatever! It doesn't matter! He's throwing us off Moya!

John: Yeah well - you want to give it a go? (he throws a hand out towards Pilot, inviting D'Argo to knock himself out. D'Argo looks at Pilot who looks eyes them and snarls irritably)

D'Argo: (wisely, with a shake of his head) No.

John: See. I did my best.

D'Argo: (with a dismissive snort) Your best was to blow it!

John: I did my best!

D'Argo: Well you blew it!

John: D'Argo - (outraged - the hands go back on hips again as he glares a the Luxan) - he's kicking us off Moya 'cause we argue!

D'Argo: He's kicking us off Moya because you argue!

John: No - WE argue!

D'Argo: You argue!

John: WE! YOU-

D'Argo: You argue!

John: (spluttering as he says loudly over D'Argo) You! You! We! AW! WE argue! You would argue with a lamppost! (hey turn to the door to leave)

D'Argo: I do not! Open the door!

John: YOU open it!

D'Argo: YOU open the door!

John: What you're a girl? I'm gonna open the door for you? Open the door!

And as Moya sails off into the quiet darkness of space their voices are heard as they stand at the door of Pilot's Den.

D'Argo: I'm older than you! Show some respect! You open the door!

John: (furious) You can open it! I'm not openin' the door!

D'Argo: (stubborn) I'm not openin' no door. You open it...

THE END