have one arn to decide.
Here, here.
Options?
It's not ready.
They have Rygel and the sand is
trickling though the hourglass.
- We can't give them wormhole weapons.
- They don't know that.
And I can give them
the middle finger.
You don't know
what you're doing.
I never do.
You, give them nothing!
Let's make a deal.
One power source.
Two compartments,
forward and last.
More intense,
and smaller.
And here.
That's it.
Excellent.
I'll be able to stop 'em cold
with three perfect shots.
Why three? You usually
slay me with just one.
Rygel's invited us
to Hyneria.
Thought I could do
some work with my hands.
Plant some food,
make some wine.
Oh.
Hey, Godzilla,
let's get this over with.
- You have something to give me?
- Yeah.
I got something you don't
get very often. The truth.
- I can't give you wormhole weapons.
- Then you will die.
You're asking for a kilo of pure
wormhole technology which I don't have!
But I can take you
to a guy that does.
In exchange,
you give me Rygel.
Undamaged, free and clear.
Give me the coordinates!
It doesn't work like that.
You are immune to the probing.
'Cause I always speak the truth.
Okay, here's how it works.
We go in my module
down a wormhole to the
source of ultimate power.
It's a two-seater.
Me and one other.
It's the only safe way
to get there.
The emperor will never go alone
with you in your craft!
I will accompany him.
Yes, always good to see who wears
the britches in a relationship.
No!
Set a course to rejoin the battle group
at the water planet.
We shall leave
as soon as I return.
It's a question of balls.
The ball's in his court.
How would they react?
I see. If faced
with such a moral choice,
the Scarrans would still choose
to slaughter innocents.
A conundrum: How to tap into
their morality. I must think.
- Is there progress?
- A great deal.
- I will soon be able to influence their passions.
- Excellent.
In the temple, you said,
"Peacekeepers, do your duty."
What did you mean?
I had forgotten
that you had forgotten.
At the dawn of our period of usefulness,
27,000 cycles ago,
we developed need of a guard,
a race no one had quarrel with.
A force to insure
harmony prevailed
once negotiations
had finished.
Peacekeepers.
Apparently your forebears
attempted to carry on
once we vanished.
However, lacking
our mediation abilities,
they kept peace
the only way they could:
At the muzzle of a weapon.
And that's why
they're hated.
It wasn't such
at the beginning.
We took great care to choose
a species no one had met before.
We found your kind primitive,
barely clothed.
Far removed on
the galaxy's outer spiral.
Having brought some
of you back,
your evolution was accelerated
with generous alterations
until you became
our trusted acolytes.
The emperor wants
this one maintained.
However, I would consider it
a personal favor
should he die
of explainable causes.
I grow weary.
We'll stop for coffee
on the way back.
There is a problem?
Take your hand off me.
You know what
you have to do, John.
Yeah, I know exactly
what I have to do.
Just crash the module.
No more Staleek.
No more Crichton.
No more Aeryn.
No more anyone.
Do you think War Minister Psycho-Drama's
gonna be a kindler, gentler soul?
Somebody else's problem.
But you would've done your duty.
Get your hand off me.
Please take your hand off me.
Get your hand off me.
We shall return to my ship.
There is no wormhole here.
We're catching the 7:15 to Enlightenment.
It's just a little late.
I have been informed
you plot escape.
- We are prisoners with no weapons.
- None here.
But perhaps out there.
I promise you. You will never
be reunited with your baby.
I'm sure your mother wished
the same thing.
How brave you are.
Ordinance Officer, fire!
Fire!
- D'Argo!
- They know where we are!
Fire!
You can stop now.
You've proved your point.
The Luxans are
like Peacekeepers.
Soon to be enslaved or dead.