Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips

Crichton: What's going on?
That's it.
Chiana: I don't know.
Have we met?
You tell them what's going on here and you get them to stop it.
Are you okay, son?
Put down the gun.
but I thought the best spy would be a father,
Goodbye.
Why?
I hope so too.
You've given me every good reason not to go.
...being hunted by an insane military commander...
Some fat guy that played for the Yankees.
I'm with you.
D'Argo's right.
They gave me marjols, Crichton.
Well, it's, um...
(Aeryn speaks in Sebacean)
What? You-you-you think I'm an alien?
Did you talk to anybody for us?
Nothing's been routine since the day you left seven months ago.
Oh well, um...
No. I'm frelling sick.
(low grumbling)
John, stop it.
How the hell you been?
Tell them not to fire.
Aeryn, um, about last night.
Tell them, Wilson!
Just drink the beer.
Stability's down to 80%.
He's got foreign microbes in his brain stem,
This is how he described them?
All of you.
No one's going to help us, son. It's too dangerous.
(birds chirping)
Annapolis.
You know, you were right.
If all people were like you, maybe it could be.