stop giving me a hard time.
Yeah, I know what you mean.
Why don't you give me a hand
and hit that button, huh?
- Push D.L.
- What?
D.L.
Oh, man.
What are you doing down here?
Well, I'm trying to fix
this short in the lift lock.
What are you doing down here?
- You know what I mean.
- Yeah, I know what you mean.
- You don't belong in a mine.
- You got that right.
But somebody just got
the brilliant idea...
to stick a geologist down here
in charge of you cowboys.
I think maybe they thought that
just 'cause I could tell...
shit from silver,
I'd know how to run this place.
Do you?
You tell me.
I think you handled
DeJesus pretty well.
Yeah?
Well, that was luck.
I was scared to death.
What about Sixpack?
What about him?
Did you bust him because of me?
Maybe.
Well, I appreciate that.
But I'm okay.
Yeah, I know.
Good.
Oh, by the way, how did you know
they'd get into the vodka?
Hell, that's what I woulпve done.
Maybe you're more one of us
than you think.
Good morning.
Sorry.
Okay. That's good.
Just look at my forehead.
That's it.
Let me see your tongue.
Good morning, gentlemen.
What's wrong, Doc?
I'm getting a pretty good
imitation of a hangover.
- Take off your shirt.
- It ain't no hangover.
Feels about 1000 times worse.
How long did you have these spots?
- What?
- Don't touch it.
Well, as First Officer of the shack,
it's your call.
But if I were you,
I'd not be too hasty.
I don't get it.
Any evacuation 24 hours
before a scheduled pickup...
won't look good on
an otherwise excellent record.
But like I said, it's your call.
Well, as bad as he is,
there's no way...
we're gonna make that quota
without his sad self down there.
- He's tankin' on us.
- No, I don't think so.
I heard him last night,
and he didn't sound so good.
The company will consider that
when they look at our numbers.
Sweetheart, the company
doesn't give a damn about why.
The contract says,
if we miss our quota...
they only gotta pay us half pay
for the entire month.
Believe me, they'll stick to it.
The bastarпs
definitely tanking on us.
- Yep, I think you're right.
- I wish you were, but he's not.
He's really sick.
He ain't comin' out today.
- Williams, take her down.
- That's terrific.
- Three months of work down the tubes.
- You're outta here, guys.
So, what, are you taking inventory?
No, Mr. Jones.
I'm getting ready to play Ping-Pong.
I'm goin' to work.
You got a problem with that?
- Work?
- Work.
- Try to hold as steady as you can.
- What the hell is it?
- I'm taking a little skin sample.
- Come on. Give me something.
Just a second.
Steady as you can.
Try to do it as quick as I can.
That's it. I got it.
Steady, steady. Easy.
It's all right.
Keep your hands off it.
Here. Hold that.
I'm gonna take a look at this
under the microscope.
Container 22 is full, sir.
This one's full, so let's run her
outta here and bring in a new one.
You got it.
"An organism of unknown origin."
No kidding.
Tell me something I don't know.
Goddamn it, take a guess.
Good work out there, Becky.
I mean, Mr. Beck.
Not bad, Mr. Beck.
No harm done.
Just don't call me cracker.
Perk up, sport.
How can the guy die
from a skin rash in eight hours?
Put this on.
I want you to examine him.
- I'm not a doctor.
- For this, you don't need to be.
Oh, Lord.
Am I wearing this 'cause
you think it might be contagious?
I don't know if it is
or it isn't.
I don't know a damn thing.
Neither does anyone else.
I've been going back and forth
with Narragansett Naval all day...
consulting with the best people
in marine medicine...
the best people in virology.
They don't even believe
the symptoms I'm describing.
Their best guess,
and that's all it is...
is that before Sixpack died,
he was undergoing...
some form of genetic alteration.
Genetic alteration from what?
It could be a million things.
Something in the food, the air.
Sixpack went in that ship,
and so did