Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips

We should adjust our orbit.

It looks unstable.

You know, you're taking this pretty well.

Good. You didn't screw up.

Have you come in search of the fugitives?

Crichton, you are my ally.

These flares are going to die down before the day's out.

Now I'm lost in some distant part of the universe on a ship.

Take in some of the sights.

By force if necessary.

No, we're going to have to tell him something,

Yeah, Zhaan, I hear you fine.

You're not seriously considering it, are you?

Or do you always have to be the Alpha male?

Seventy. Eighty, even.

The biggest, baddest dog gets to be the Alpha male, the leader.

It's across the square. Think you can make it there?

Crais is sending you love letters?

Oh? Well, I take it that means you're pleased.

I figured you'd be killing yourself by now.

You're with me on this, right?

How good are you two?

What? D'Argo, obviously, you didn't hear me.

We just started a wormhole.

You don't have a choice.

I am Captain Bialar Crais and I am offering a substantial reward

Crichton: You know what, D'Argo?

Well, then you really have a problem.

Are you sure you've got it contained?

Yeah, well, they don't know that.

The one with the big britches, the leader.

Take Moya further into the planet's shadow.

There are fugitives among you.

Friendship is a lot to ask.

I get the idea.

No. No, I was not.