Archer s10e07 Episode Script

[ominous music.]
Lana: Ugh, I'm tired of being out here.
I wanna go home.
Eww, Earth? In space we can do whatever the hell we want with basically no responsibilities.
Kind of my point.
Maybe I'm ready to start having a real life instead of being stuck here with your ass.
Shh, my ass might hear you, and it's very sensitive.
- Of course, you know that.
- Not engaging.
I'm just saying, maybe it's time to hang this all up and Ugh, is this about your aching uterus again? Okay, who said anything about Well, we haven't talked about settling down but - Nope.
- Key word "settling.
" I'm down with going to Earth.
I could use some fresh faces to bang.
And our bar stock is so low, I may have to resort to beer.
Has everyone gone crazy? We're on the final frontier and you want to go back to doing day jobs and gravity-laden sex? - Not my first preference.
- I vote with Archer.
- Robots don't get a vote.
- I prefer "synthetic human.
" [overlapping chatter.]
No one gets to vote.
I'm the captain.
Co-captain.
And as the other co-captain, I am setting a course for Earth.
No, Lana, I will not let you hyperspace us to Boring-town.
[grunting.]
[keyboard clicking.]
- Lana: [grunts.]
- Archer: What the ow! - Pam: Holy spacesnacks! - Lana: It's a Dri'n battle cruiser.
And somehow it hasn't noticed us.
No, we're too close for its long-range scanners to pick us up.
Great, let's just loop around this bad boy and hyperspace somewhere that is not Earth.
If we can destroy it, we will cripple - pirate activity in this sector.
- Who cares? And collecta 30 million credit bounty for taking it out.
As I was saying, who cares about combatting - space piracy more than me? - Exactly.
The very reasonable reward is just icing on the cake.
- Guys, as captain of this ship - Co-captain.
I am making an executive decision.
- We're taking out that Dri'n bastard.
- Like I already executively decided.
Hands in.
"Space cowboys" on three.
One, two What the hell are you doing? [title theme.]
10x07 - Space Pirates Archer: Okay, here's the plan: after we board the ship, knock out a couple of Dri'n guards, and then you'll love this - put on their clothes - Not to be a buzzkill, but you think there'll really be a plus-sized pirate onboard? - Ugh, this is a horrible plan.
- I'm not finished.
Pam, you'll be our "prisoner.
" - Sweet! - Lucky.
- Still a horrible plan.
- Let me finish! We'll infiltrate the ship disguised as Dri'n guards.
That's it.
That's the whole plan.
This is not a plan.
This is the plot of several famous films.
Well, why do you think they're famous, Lana? We'll need Ray to get us some explosives.
He's taking a sick day.
- Of course he is.
- We get those? It's a miracle we don't crash into the sun with all you Sick Day Cyrils and Personal Day Pams.
It is a pretty generous package if you use it right.
Space phrasing.
Well, where am I supposed to get explosives? "Thermite" be something I can do to help.
Referencing thermite explosives.
[all groan.]
I did not enjoy that.
Does this thing havean off switch? - Aww, I have feelings.
- Volume control? Anything? Then we'll plant the thermite all over the ship and "hola explosivo.
" - I'm confused.
- It's Spanish, Pam.
No, how will we get the "Seamus" out of here without us pinging their scanners? That's where Cyril and Carol come in.
You two will disable the radar system on board.
- Whoo-hoo! [ass slap.]
- Please don't.
- I can disable the radar system! - Can you disable yourself? - Beep, bop, boop.
Ya burnt.
- Why not Krieger? I mean, he's qualified even if he is a replicant.
Thank you, Lana, but I like to think I'm more of a Repli-can.
[all groan.]
No bots.
- Mother, you stay and run comms.
- Stay here? With the liquor? Well, if you insist.
Space cowboys, let's ride! [triumphant music.]
Lana: Would you stop trying to make "space cowboys" stick? - It isn't.
- Fine, Lana.
You stay here and be the world-weary space saloon/brothel madam.
- I wanna be a brothel madam! - Ooh, I I could be the banker and wear one of those green visors.
Everybody stop making this stick! And if anything, I would be co-sheriff.
- That's not a thing.
- The whole thing's not a thing! Whoa, space cowboys.
- What is it now, Krieger? - I've got helpful gadgets! Like these voice changers! The Dri'n tongue is a beast, you know.
Fine, but honestly, Krieger, this is all a little thirsty.
- Like Lana's ovaries.
- Not engaging.
Doesn't someone need to be proposing before you're engaging? - Not en - [laughs.]
She totally disarmed your phrase.
So what's our plan when these shitty voicechangers don't work? - Krieger: I can hear you.
- Well, I picked up some phrases banging a pirate or two.
Here's how to say, "Faster, harder.
" - Because that'll come in handy.
- [ugly guttural sounds.]
- Now you try it.
- [all grunting.]
No, it's more like you know the sound you make after letting out a fart you've been holding in all day? Oh, please.
You've never held in a fart - in your life.
- Tough but fair.
Lana: Like now, Pam.
Now would have been a great time to hold it in.
Pam: [grunting in Dri'n.]
Archer: [laughs.]
I have I have no idea what she said, but it just sounds funny.
[metal crashing.]
Lana: Jesus, Cyril, watch the landing.
- You gotta slide it in there gently.
- Pam: [grunting.]
[muffled bang.]
You are a terrible pilot.
You put me on a job that's not my specialty.
- That's bad captaining.
- Co-captaining.
- Oh, now you share the credit? - Fine.
I should have assigned Cyril to his specialty of, uh what is your specialty again? Space accounting? You're putting "space" in front of it to make it extra silly, but it's actually really an important part of running a ship.
[pirates grunting.]
That was quick.
[speaking Dri'n.]
He's asking [gunfire.]
[bodies thud.]
[sighs.]
He was just asking where we got these human costumes, but Oh, thank God you're here, Cyril.
You're so quick on the draw.
My blaster got stuck in its holster.
- I can help with that.
- Stop it! Unwanted advance in the workplace.
Take it up with the Dri'n pirate HR.
Get those uniforms on and put in your voice changers.
- More pirates will be coming.
- On my tits.
Whaaat? - Do you even have tits? - They're retractable.
[sighs.]
Now, where is that mainframe? This ship has zero Feng Shui.
[door hisses.]
Whoa.
[music.]
There's gotta be a switch to get a laser bridge or something.
Why people build dangerous ravines in spaceships is beyond me.
[hollering.]
[gasping.]
You gotta warn me next time! We almost and that hook is not secure! How do you even know the mainframe is on this side? Oh, I don't.
I just find terror kind of hot, you know? I do not know.
Not to mention the woman swinging the man across is totally [yelling.]
emasculating! Shit balls! Guys, remember, place them on the structural beams for maximum impact.
I need more.
I'm missing a testicle.
- What the hell are you doing? - What's the big deal? It's thermite; throw it anywhere, it's gonna blow up the ship.
- I'm not letting you waste thermite.
- Give me the thermite.
- God damn it, Archer.
- [laughing.]
Uh-oh.
It was an accident.
Yeah, it was flirty horseplay.
- These aren't toys.
- Your boobs? - Because I beg to differ.
- It's stuck.
Krieger, how do you peel off these thermite charges? - Krieger: Oh, no worries there.
- Oh, good.
Krieger: It's a super polymer.
Can't be removed or disarmed.
I thought they would peel off like air fresheners.
They look like air fresheners.
Just take your shirt off, then.
I'm not wearing a shirt or bra under this.
- Oh, I noticed.
- We all noticed.
Is it for the pirates? Because they do not make good husbands, Lana.
I am not trying to get a pirate husband! This ship has no AC and pirate garb isn't exactly oh, shit.
[all speaking Dri'n.]
Hey! [both laughing.]
Huh, it actually worked.
Almost like Krieger knows what he was doing.
I'm sorry, Lana.
He'll never be a space cowboy.
- Now, let's blow up this ship - Without blowing my tits off.
Give me one more.
I need to finish my testicle.
- Here.
- Seriously?! Guys, even for me this is getting childish.
Malory: Don't mention children.
Lana will smear her mascara.
Eavesdropping and lobbing insults is not running comms.
I knew I should have done the assigning, because everyone you picked is spectacularly wrong for the job.
Cyril: See, this is what I'm talking about.
Why would they put the mainframe right next door to the mess? The heat would be hell on the data core.
What, did you read that in your - spaceship architecture magazine? - You mean"Starchitectural Digest"? Yes.
Shall we get to work? [panels beeping.]
Um do you know how to disable a radar system? - [scoffs.]
No.
- Is this another "fear is hot" thing, or do you really not know? Because I sure don't.
Ugh, bad captaining! Archer: [laughs.]
Mission accomplished.
How long should we set the timers for? All right, let's see.
Uh, Cyril and Cheryl have to disarm the radar; we all have to get to the hatch; and I have to strip this pirate suit off - so the bomb won't blowmy tits off.
- And Archer's baby-maker! Don't don't say "baby," Pam, because you know [grunts.]
[groans.]
Shit! You set them off! How much time we got? - Shit, 11 minutes.
- Jesus! Couldn't you have kicked a higher number? [coughs.]
Or, you know, not at all? - We gotta run.
- Yeah, not much of a runner.
Okay, guys, listen up.
We have 11 minutes to get our asses off this ship before it explodes.
Oh, God.
If you find terror hot, I must be gorgeous to you right now.
- Yeah.
- No, stop! I shouldn't even be here! I should have been the one kicking back on the "Seamus" running comms! For your information, I've got my hands full.
Cyril: Full of what, gin and tonics? I don't know what you're talking about.
Cyril: We can hear the ice clinking.
No, that's space static.
Must be sun spots.
We need you to connect us with Ray.
- He's on a sick day! - Cyril: We're going to blow up in 11 minutes.
- Archer: Closer to ten.
- [sighs.]
Hold, please.
Ray? [peaceful music.]
Cyril: Ray, thank God.
We need your help.
Yeah, kind of in the middle of something.
Malory: Ray our surgery pod is not designed for recreational use.
- This is a medical procedure.
- Malory: Scented candles? Is it a crime to want to brighten up my colonoscopy? - I think not.
- Malory: You said it wasn't recreational! Colorectal cancer's serious business.
You should be checked every 10 years after 50.
Ugh, how old are you? Ray: Or if you have atypical symptoms, like a change in bowel habits.
Speaking of which, we're in the bowels - of an enemy battle cruiser! - I'll be wearing my colorectal blue ribbon that says, "I got tested.
" Tomorrow, after my sick day.
Which you're interrupting.
Cheryl: Ugh, we need you to walk us through disabling a giant spaceship radar system thingy.
But my crisis vest is on Deck 2! - Cyril: Ray! - Fine.
Let old Ray just interrupt his prescribed lifesaving medical test to call up alien battle cruiser schematics on his sick day.
Don't suppose you have a ship model number? Cyril: We're inside the ship, so no.
And kind of in a hurry! Do you see a blinking green light? [overlapping beeps.]
- We're dead.
- [sighs.]
Don't you just crave its sweet release? Okay, sending you the disarming protocols - now.
- Thanks, Ray, you're a lifesaver.
You're God damn it, Ray.
Is this a picture of your colon? - Aww.
- Sorry.
This wine might be mixing with my propofol.
I do see why this is addictive.
Cyril: We only have eight minutes! Don't get your panties in a bunch.
[keys tapping.]
Also, do you see any polyps? Lana, how is it possible you wanna give all this up for diapers? I don't know, maybe because I don't need to play two-bit space cowboy just because I'm scared of commitment.
How dare you speak precisely the truth at me.
- Hey, guys! Wait up! - You used to be fun.
Now you want to do not-fun stuff like settling down.
- Well, I got news for you, sister.
- Don't say that, ever.
- Settling is for potato chips.
- Oh, God, Archer.
Will you stop treating me like some baby-crazy cliché of maternal desire? [gasps.]
[cats mewing.]
- Aww, look at them! - Oh, come on, Lana.
- [gasps.]
Space ocelots.
- Actually, they're called "grimalkians.
" Shut your mouth, Pam.
That is a goddamn space ocelot.
- Ah, son of a bitch.
- [laughs.]
- You're a real natural.
- I've seen these before.
A shithead ex of mine had one as a pet.
- I think they're endangered.
- No doubt the Dri'n stole them to sell their fur to illegal traders.
Yeah, this ex was an illegal trader, so that all tracks.
Shit, we've only got seven minutes to get off this death star lowercase "D," lowercase "S" and back to the "Seamus" before we explode in a million pieces.
No, we can't blow up the ship with them onboard.
- They'll go extinct.
- I'll watch anything that asshole loved burn.
[baby talk.]
Just look how adorable they are.
- Ow! - [laughs.]
Guys, look at this! They love me! It's like I'm their king! [siren blaring, pirates grunting.]
Uh, Cyril, Cheryl? Did you guys Fail spectacularly at the one task you were given? Cyril: You said turn off the radar.
You didn't say anything about an alarm! It was clearly implied.
[baby voice.]
Yes, it was.
Wasn't it? Yes, it was.
[alarm blaring.]
[speaking Dri'n.]
All clear.
No intruders in here.
- Oh, shit, is that English? - He's the intruder you're looking for! Aww, balls.
Mine's broken too.
[pirates grunting.]
- Hey, screw you for that.
- Girl's gotta self-preserve, dude.
[lasers firing.]
Okay, so now we need to rescue Cyril and Cheryl Yeah, that's great, but we have another rescue first.
- What? - The space ocelots, Pam.
We've got six minutes, so let's start with the [baby talk.]
widdle baby furballs.
- Oh, mother - Is not what you should be, because these things do not like you.
It is a hilarious twist of fate.
[grimalkians meowing.]
Holy hell, those little twerps are quick.
- Oh, well.
Let's get out of here.
- What the [meows.]
- Aww, he likes you.
- Um, no, Lana.
He loves me.
This guy is so cool.
Here, Lana, get a picture.
Just kick the little shit off and let's roll! We're buds! I'm a badass space cowboy, and he's my deputy! [baby talk.]
Don't you wanna jump on my shoulder and be my widdle deputy? I'm a co-space cowboy.
Wow, jealousy is an ugly color on you, Lana.
Something's wrong with this blaster! [grunts.]
Have you tried opening your eyes? - [grunts.]
- Yes! They actually are open! For real! [grunts.]
Guess that's not a factor anyway.
[speaking Dri'n.]
Where's the fire, brother? - Oh, shit, was that English? - [grunts.]
Why'd you even open your big mouth, Archer? He was running right by us.
I think the better question is, why do we even have a ship robot if he can't even make his stupid robot gadgets work? - We're cut off! - My circulation is cut off.
The grip on this thing is unreal.
Look at this! He's eating this shit up.
[both grunt.]
Come on, little buddy.
Let's go in the fun tunnel.
[meows.]
- Pam? - Nah.
I don't do tight spaces I'm not familiar with.
Just go.
I'll hold them off and meet you at the dock.
Come and get it, space dicks! - Well, at least it's downhill.
- A little too downhill.
- Are you sure this is an air vent? - Of course it's an air vent.
[both screaming.]
[pipe rattling.]
[bodies thud.]
Ugh, you've gotta be shitting me.
Oops, I guess it wasn't an air vent.
[grimalkian meows.]
[lasers firing.]
- Ah, my blaster jammed! - Blasters don't jam, you lying fleshbag! You're pathetic! Cover me! [pirate grunting.]
[dramatic music.]
- I thought you had a plan! - I do! - I'm making a necklace.
- I will give you one of my teeth.
- Just get me off this ship.
- Nope, it's not the same.
It has to be from a kill.
[gasps.]
Unless that's something you might be interested in.
Ew, no.
Hey, any chance of getting a rescue here? - Lana: Yeah, uh, about that.
- Oh, Lana.
- Thank God.
- Archer had us escape - in a stupid air vent that - Air vent, copy that.
[pipe rattling.]
[bodies thud.]
- Cyril, let her finish.
- Oh, God, this is a dead end.
We have two minutes! What do we do? Ugh, you're not gonna wet your uniform like last time? Not the time or place.
Actually, this is a pretty good time and place.
New plan: we form a human-ocelot ladder - Ugh, I'd rather just die.
- To get back to the air vent.
- Stop calling it an air vent.
- Fine! [gunfire.]
- [yelling.]
- Cyril: Pam! - Thank God.
- You're running the wrong way.
Cannonball! [all groan.]
It's in my mouth.
[all grunting.]
[gunfire.]
This is not good.
[grimalkian meows.]
- Even my little ocelot bud bailed.
- I'm calling Krieger for backup.
No, Lana.
Space cowboys do or die.
He's our only option.
Malory, Krieger, come in! [static.]
Come in! Yes! It's Krieger.
What do you need? I can do it! Lana: Get down here, stat.
We need backup immediately.
- Trash compactor.
- I'm on it! Yes! Needed by real humans.
[all grunting, gunfire.]
[pants.]
[sighs, thuds.]
My God, why did we even bring him? [yells.]
This is it, people! This is the end! Brace yourselves for obliteration! [screaming.]
[firing.]
[chuckles.]
I really like her this way.
- I'm kind of into it myself.
- Wait! Look! [grimalkians growling.]
[meows.]
[grunting in Dri'n.]
[grimalkians hissing.]
Archer: Jesus! They're demons in disguise.
I've been fooled.
[blasting, groaning.]
- Pam: Ugh.
- Cyril: Oh, my God.
Why does it have to be so gross? [liquid splattering.]
Stand back, folks.
I've "bot" this.
- [all groan.]
- Archer: And once again, you and your iron heart are completely useless.
[grunts.]
[grimalkian meows.]
There's my pal! Back to normal.
You can't quit me, can you? - [grimalkian purrs.]
- How much time? - 30 seconds.
- This is gonna be tight.
Lana: It wouldn't be tight if you hadn't screwed up - the assignments! - Whatever, Lana.
Maybe I screwed up the assignments on purpose so you'd feel needed and want to stay.
Oh, please.
Maybe you're just saying that as a cool way to cover screwing up the assignments.
Oh, go have an Earth baby, why don't you? [meowing.]
Oh, we can't just leave these space ocelots here.
Grimalkians.
And, yes, we can.
Pam, I'm not gonna do this with you.
- I'm already too upset.
- Lana: Oh, God, their eyes.
- Even though they hate you? - Yep, even though.
- 15 seconds! - I think these furry banshees are just gonna have to stay on board.
[grimalkians whining.]
[explosions.]
[grimalkians meowing.]
- I meant on board the other ship.
- Oh, God damn it to shit! Can't these bastards stay in the cargo hold? [gasps.]
Mommy's just joking.
[whispering.]
I think we all know who the fun parent is.
[grimalkian purring, meowing.]