Moloch - Episode 37.

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"Moloch"
by Ben Steed

(c) 1980 by the British Broadcasting Corporation. Series created by Terry Nation. This is a partial dialogue transcript for research purposes and is not for sale under any circumstances. Format (c) 1994 by Meredith Dixon and Micky DuPree.

Dramatis Personae

Kerr Avon -Paul Darrow
Cally - Jan Chappell
Vila Restal - Michael Keating
Servalan - Jacqueline Pearce
Del Tarrant - Steven Pacey
Dayna Mellanby - Josette Simon
Zen - Peter Tuddenham
Orac - Peter Tuddenham
Doran - Davyd Harries
Grose - John Hartley
Lector - Mark Sheridan
Moloch - Deep Roy
Poola - Debbi Blythe
Chesil - Sabina Franklyn

VILA: [bringing drinks to Avon and Cally, who are seated at a table at the rear of the Liberator's bridge, studying a star chart.] Twenty-seven days.
AVON: What?
VILA: We've been following Servalan for twenty-seven days. Course 6-4-5-3, nil curvature, standard by three... [Vila moves forward, onto the bridge proper, and hands a drink to Tarrant, who is moving back to stand with Avon and Cally.] ...never mind the occasional ion cloud or asteroid cluster; just blast a way through them -- she's gone mad.... [Vila hands a drink to Dayna] ...Or dead. That's it, she's dead! We're following a rogue star-cruiser -- I'm bored.
DAYNA: You're boring, Vila.
AVON: There is only Calcos left.
TARRANT: What would Servalan want with a penal colony?
AVON: Who knows? Perhaps she wants to compare notes with some other genocidal maniacs. Or take a refresher course in basic brutality.
CALLY: It's not Calcos.
TARRANT: [surprised] Not?
CALLY: Well, she's already missed it.
[Cally, Avon and Tarrant look at the viewscreen, which shows the ship passing a planet.]
CALLY: She could always turn around and come back again, but why should she?
AVON: Because there's nowhere else to go.
TARRANT: No, there's nothing on the chart.
CALLY: We've come to the end.
AVON: A big zero. [As he speaks, Avon traces a zero on the chart.] The pioneers called it the Outer Darkness.
VILA: I tell you, she's mad! She's finally gone over the top! -- Well, that's an interesting viewpoint, Vila -- Yes, isn't it? Came from talking to myself. -- Fascinating. And do you have any other theories about...paranoids?
ZEN: [interrupting] Information. The present course has no material end. Suggest transfer from linear progression to modular time shift.
TARRANT: [o.o.v.] Suggestion rejected, Zen.
CALLY: Just a moment. How long would it take for us to get somewhere using maximum time shift?
ZEN: One hundred and fifty-nine Earth years.
VILA: That's all I need.
DAYNA: And where will that bring us?
ZEN: Repeat: there is no material destination on present course. After one hundred and fifty-nine Earth years, time shift mechanism will cease to function.
VILA: Can we go back now?
TARRANT: Avon, what do you think?
AVON: No. She must have a reason. Servalan would not leave her headquarters -- or the bulk of her battle fleet -- unless she was very confident about something. It's that confidence that intrigues me.
CALLY: Is she deliberately taking us away from somewhere? Or leading us into a trap?
AVON: No; she doesn't know we're here. No probe activity at all.
DAYNA: Why don't we just blast her out of existence once and for all?
AVON: Well, then, we would never know, would we?
VILA: And what do you think, Vila? -- Me, well, I think we should go back; after all, there's not a lot of scope for a man of my talents, not to mention charm and good looks, but then, on the other hand....
TARRANT: [interrupting, o.o.v] Vila!
CALLY: Vila, please!

[Servalan's ship suddenly begins to disappear from view; the disappearance begins at the bow and proceeds with a sharp demarcation sternward. Her whole ship disappears.]
ZEN: Information. Forward sensors no longer register target ship.
TARRANT: That can't be right. Zen, full forward scan.
ZEN: Negative response.
AVON: Zen, give us a visual playback from the point of last contact. [Viewscreen shows Servalan's ship disappearing]
DAYNA: It just ... went.
AVON: Cally, has it dematerialized?
CALLY: 'S'unlikely. There's no sign of abnormal particle activity.
AVON: All right. Zen, maintain present course. Sensors on full alert. -- Speed standard by four.
DAYNA: Are you sure it's safe?
AVON: Is that an objection? [Dayna is silent.] Anyone?
VILA: Yes, I object. Strongly.
[Flashing and beeping from various bridge instruments.]
TARRANT: What was that?
AVON: [o.o.v.] Starboard navigation probe.
TARRANT: [o.o.v.] Zen, what's going on?
ZEN: Navigation computers report high-energy interference with directional probes. Automatic control untenable.
TARRANT: Battle stations. -- Zen...this interference...is there any hostile design to it?
ZEN: There is a uniform design to it.
AVON: [o.o.v.] Is it hostile?
ZEN: The word hostile is not objective.
AVON: Zen, this is no time to quibble over terminology.
[The Liberator's bridge suddenly shakes.]
ZEN: Forward navigation probes report approach speed inconsistent with safe planetfall. Hull sensors indicate excessive atmospheric friction.
DAYNA: [pointing] Look! [A planetary surface fills the viewscreen.]
ZEN: [o.o.v.] Collision imminent. Repeat, collision imminent.
AVON: Tarrant! Full deflection!
[Tarrant complies. Viewscreen shows planet surface receding. Vila goes head-over-heels across the bridge.]

[Scene of a protective dome nestled on a hillside, with four spires rising from its corners. Three square sensors protrude from the hillside. Within the dome, two women, Poola and Chesil, are monitoring the sensors.]
POOLA: Chesil... I think I've got something.
[Chesil moves to look at Poola's screen.]
CHESIL: Aren't you going to report it?
POOLA: No. Wait!
[They watch as a spacecraft-shaped dot crosses the screen.]
CHESIL: Poola, you *must* report it! [Chesil reaches downward.]
POOLA: They may come back!
CHESIL: [pulling her hand back] They won't. Why should they? They don't know what's happening here -- and even if they did, why should they care?
POOLA: They may. We must have hope, Chesil. [Poola presses a button, marked "Erase". Near it is a button marked "Report."]
CHESIL: No!
POOLA: There. It's done.
CHESIL: You have great courage, Poola. I only hope --
POOLA: [coldly] What?
CHESIL: [smiling slightly] No matter. [Chesil rises and leaves. Poola returns her attention to the sensors.]

[On the Liberator, Vila, rubbing his head, gets to his feet.]
TARRANT: [o.o.v.] I think we've pulled clear of it.
CALLY: [o.o.v.] Clear of what? What was it?
AVON: Zen, status report.
ZEN: All systems functioning normally.
AVON: All right. Automatic controls, stabilize, and give us a scan in a cone of sixty degrees.
ZEN: Scan report... negative.
CALLY: But, Zen, there was something. A planet, or...
AVON: [to Zen] So stop being pedantic, and give us the facts.
ZEN: The planet is located at course zero degrees, two thousand spacials. [Zen shows a perfectly blank viewscreen.]
TARRANT: [o.o.v.] We don't see anything.
ZEN: The planet's stratosphere comprises two energy fields. The inner is impervious; the outer, refractive to all medium- pulse emissions.
VILA: Thanks a lot, Zen.
AVON: Zen, give us a full laser scan and printout.
[Zen complies. The viewscreen shows a dark sphere on a blue background.]
AVON: So. It's as simple as that. Light cannot get in and it cannot get out.
CALLY: Nor can any other medium-pulse energy. Nothing from gamma radiation to radio waves.
TARRANT: But there was light in there. Zen, playback of visual of our entry. [Zen does.] Freeze it there. If there's no sun, where does that light come from?
ZEN: All light and other medium-pulse energy is governed by the energy-mass transformer located at grid reference 3-1-9 on the visual display.
TARRANT: Zen, full magnification, reference 3-1-9. [The viewscreen shows Servalan's ship, resting on a landing pad, with buildings nearby.]
TARRANT: [o.o.v.] So that's where she went.
AVON: [o.o.v.] Maybe we should go now.
TARRANT: [o.o.v.] Go where?
VILA: [o.o.v.] Somewhere a long way away.
TARRANT: [o.o.v.] Why do you say that?
AVON: Well, now there is technology and there is technology. Anyone who can transmute mass and energy on a planetary scale is not going to upset himself too much over my little sidearm. Or a neutron blaster, come to that.
CALLY: But there's no real reason to suppose they're hostile.
DAYNA: They're friendly with Servalan. That's hostile enough for me.
AVON: [o.o.v.] Quite.
CALLY: Well, surely then, that increases our obligation to find out what's going on.
AVON: Obligation?
TARRANT: I agree with Cally. Servalan with powerful friends doesn't bear thinking about.
DAYNA: We should have killed her when we had the chance.
TARRANT: Yes, but we didn't. I'm going down.
AVON: [o.o.v.] How?
TARRANT: Teleport.
AVON: It will be interesting to see what that energy field does to a teleport beam.
TARRANT: All right, we'll take the Liberator through again and I'll teleport from there.
AVON: [laughing sardonically] Why don't you land it right on top of their monitoring station just in case they haven't got the message?
TARRANT: Zen, was our entry monitored from the planet's surface?
ZEN: Affirmative.
TARRANT: So they know we're here.
AVON: Correction. They know we came, and they know that we went away again. One thing's for sure -- next time they'll be ready for us.

[Scene shifts to Servalan's ship on landing pad, then to Grose's office. Poola is standing at rigid attention before Lector, who is at the desk. Grose stands beside her, and moves around her as she speaks.]
GROSE: [mockingly] A meteor.
POOLA: They do come from time to time. Some of them quite large. They're of no consequence...
GROSE: So you erase the record of them.
POOLA: Yes.
GROSE: Whenever they slip through.
POOLA: Yes!
GROSE: Even though they fire a gravity deflection thrust and slip back out again, hm?
LECTOR: And where did this "meteor" land?
POOLA: [o.o.v.] In the desert region.
LECTOR: How very convenient.
POOLA: Convenient or not, that's what happened.
MOLOCH: She lies. She must suffer.
POOLA: I'm telling you the truth!
MOLOCH: Give her to your men.
GROSE: Right, Lector, see to it.
LECTOR: Guard.
POOLA: No!
[A stormtrooper comes from the back of the room and seizes Poola, pushing her roughly to the floor. Lector raises his hand menacingly, and, an instant later, there is the sound of a slap. Then a communicator beeps, and a female voice announces, "President Servalan is here with her aide."
GROSE: Damn. [He signals Lector to stop.] All right, let her in. [Lector urges Poola to rise. Servalan enters.] President Servalan. We are indeed most honored. [aside, looking at Lector and Poola] And, Lector, take her out of here, would you?
LECTOR: Yeah.
POOLA: [looking appealingly at Servalan] Madam President, help me!
SERVALAN: Well, Section Leader, the records were accurate. Women, food, and inflicting pain -- in no particular order.
GROSE: The Fifth Legion always encouraged such virtues, Madam President. They sharpen the spurs of duty.
SERVALAN: Yes, well, I've come a long way, Section Leader, and it wasn't out of concern for your peccadilloes. First I shall require refreshment.
GROSE: Yes, yes, of course. I shall have some brought.

[Scene shifts to an internment compound. A guard walks into the the compound, saluting a sentry. Other guards are seen, at leisure. Lector's voice is heard over a P.A. speaker; they pause to listen to it.]
LECTOR: [o.o.v.] Attention. Unit Commander Lector here. I want two men at the lower city gate, now. We have a present for you....Move!
[The guards laugh among themselves. A senior guard chooses two guards who are standing near him. The chosen pair grin at each other as they leave.]

[Scene shifts to Lector, in the monitoring station, watching the events in the compound. He turns and speaks to a stormtrooper, who is holding Poola.]
LECTOR: Right. They'll be waiting. Take her down. [Chesil suddenly comes forward.]
CHESIL: Poola! [Poola looks back at her, but is hurried out the door by the stormtroopers. Lector pushes Chesil roughly to the floor, and then follows the troopers, closing the door behind himself. Chesil looks after him.]

[On the Liberator, the crew is gathered around Orac.]
ORAC: Such trivial questions should more properly be addressed to the ship's master computer.
TARRANT: Yes -- I'm sorry if it's beneath your dignity, Orac, but Zen has no record of the plans in the data banks, and there's no sign of it in the Federation charts.
ORAC: The body to which you refer is Sardos, a large fixed meteoroid with a single colony of some three hundred souls.
DAYNA: Are they friendly?
ORAC: They are socially exclusive, but not unduly hostile.
CALLY: What sort of answer's that?
ORAC: A succinct one. -- To elaborate, the Sardoans avoid any form of social contact which might lead to genetic change. Their decision to avoid the normal evolutionary process followed exhaustive computer projections into their future.
AVON: How far into their future?
ORAC: Two million Earth years.
DAYNA: [laughing] Nothing like planning ahead!
TARRANT: Yes, well, this is all very interesting, Orac, but how do I get down to the surface without teleporting through an energy field -- or letting these exclusive characters know I'm coming?
ORAC: You must employ subtlety. Observe the visual display. This is a T-16 space transporter, widely used by the former Federation for conveying troops before the Galactic War. It carries no armament and no scanning devices.
AVON: Orac, we are all familiar with basic spacecraft recognition.
ORAC: If you cannot listen to the answers, why do you inconvenience me with questions? Observe the layout. The T-16 was poorly designed, and incorporates a useless cavity behind the central bulkhead, which is covered by a cosmetic partition. The one who has the skill to remove this from the inside is Vila.
[Vila, who has been drowsing, looks up.]
VILA: What's that? Oh, no. No to whatever it was.
CALLY: Orac, please explain the significance of that.
ORAC: The T-16 will enter teleport range in one minute, seventeen seconds, en route for Sardos.
TARRANT: Zen, full reconnaissance. -- Cally! [Cally rises and follows him.]
ZEN: Detectors confirm approaching space vehicle, on tangent bearing zero-zero, course 6-4-5.
TARRANT: Confirm no probe activity.
ZEN: Confirmed.
AVON: You're not seriously proposing to teleport.
TARRANT: Can you think of a better way? -- Cally, I shall need the exact coordinates for that cavity. They're probably on the T-16 design chip. -- Vila!
VILA: Oh, no. I'm staying here.
TARRANT: Come on, man. You wanted some excitement; now you've got it.
VILA: Oh, no.
TARRANT: You heard what Orac said. I need you. Come on! [Tarrant seizes Vila's arm and hurries him roughly off the bridge.]
DAYNA: Isn't this a bit precipitous?
AVON: Tarrant is always precipitous. Or hadn't you noticed?

[The T-16 passes the Liberator. Cally works the teleport. A moment later, Vila is seen standing in a corridor of the T-16.]
VILA: [softly] Tarrant? Tarrant! Where are you? [Vila looks around. Somewhere nearby, there is boisterous singing, to the accompaniment of a harmonica:

"It's great to be free;
It's great to be free;
It's great to be free from the law...."

Vila opens a door and peeks in at the singers, then closes the door hurriedly. The singers continue:

"It's great to be free,
And we all agree..."
[The song rises to a fortissimo climax. Under cover of the noise, Vila calls:]
VILA: Tarrant!
TARRANT: [from inside the bulkhead Orac had mentioned] Vila, I'm here. [The singers conclude, with a rousing, "We're not going back anymore." Vila lowers his voice hurriedly.]
VILA: What? What?
TARRANT: Vila, don't panic. Just -- don't panic.
VILA: She's missed! She got her lousy coordinates wrong. I'm going back.
TARRANT: Vila, wait!
VILA: 'S all right for you; you're not stuck out here. [In the other room, the singers cheer loudly.]
TARRANT: What was that?
VILA: I don't know. I'm not going to wait to find out. I'm going back.
TARRANT: Vila, listen! Listen to me! [In the other room, the singers begin singing again, "Any more, any more, we're not going back any more...."]
TARRANT: Halfway down the partition, there's a cover. Loosen it. -- Are you hearing me?
VILA: Yes, yes.
TARRANT: Well, do it!
VILA: [examining it] I can't; it'll take too long.
TARRANT: You can, and the sooner you get started the sooner we'll both be out of danger. Now, stop flapping, and move yourself.
VILA: I didn't want to come in the first place. I knew somehow that this would happen -- and it always does -- and it always happens to me. Notice she didn't get your coordinates wrong. You don't have that kind of luck. [Vila gets out his tools and starts working on the cover.] Well, I've had it. This is positively the last time.
TARRANT: Hurry, Vila; I think we're landing. [Doran comes up behind Vila. Vila, preoccupied, fails to notice him.]
VILA: As soon as we get somewhere civilized, I'm off out of it. I can look after myself -- always have done before.... [Doran, who is obviously somewhat inebriated, taps Vila on the shoulder; Vila spins around to face him.]
DORAN: Hey! Got you, chappie! You're looking for somewhere civilized? You won't find it in there! [In the other room, the singers begin again with, "It's great to be free; It's great to be free..." The song continues during the following dialogue:]
DORAN: [in surprise] I haven't seen you before -- you a stowaway?.
VILA: Uh....
DORAN: Yes, but don't worry about it, old son. We'll see to it later. You just leave it t'your old Uncle Doran. Why, come on with me. Come on!
VILA: [trying to hand Tarrant his tools through a small opening in the partition] Uh, well, thank you very much, but, um....
DORAN: Don't be shy.
VILA: Well, wait a second, uh, I mean....
[Vila succeeds in passing his tools to Tarrant.]
DORAN: Now, take a pot, and come and join the fest. And if anyone says anything at all, you just point 'em at Doran. It's a party, isn't it?
[Doran pushes Vila into the room with the singers, just as "It's great to be free" concludes, so that Vila enters on a burst of laughter. Doran closes the door behind them both. Meanwhile, Tarrant is steadily working away at the partition. There is a wisp of smoke from outside as he begins to cut his way out. The scene shifts briefly to Chesil, monitoring the T-16's arrival. She rises and looks out a viewport as the T-16 lands. On the T-16, Tarrant cuts his way out and scrambles through the opening he has made, into the corridor. He makes its way to the door that leads to the singers' room, opens it, and, after a moment, enters, closing the door behind himself.]

[The scene shifts to Grose, Lector, and Servalan, dining together.]

GROSE: [to a waitress] More wine! [to Servalan] Real wine, from grapes, you know. You like wine?
SERVALAN: Not particularly, no.
GROSE: Ah, you'll like this. It loosens you up. We've got coffee, too, from beans. I like the real stuff -- food and drink.
SERVALAN: [o.o.v.] I've noticed.
GROSE: Mind you, I wouldn't care to choose between gluttony and good old-fashioned lust. Probably have to opt for some middle course, like cannibalism. [Grose eyes the waitress and points in her direction.] And what do you say, Lector -- bit of dressing, and an apple between her teeth, eh? [He slaps the waitress on her rear. Both men laugh; Servalan does not.]
SERVALAN: Section Leader Grose, what happened to Colonel Astrid?
GROSE: Colonel Astrid -- uh, he met with an accident.
SERVALAN: And his second in command?
GROSE: [o.o.v.] He met with an accident, too.
LECTOR: Yeah, it was a very bad time for accidents.
SERVALAN: I see. And you assumed full command.
GROSE: Of course -- the demands of duty. I was next in line.
SERVALAN: You were just a section leader aboard a flagship, serving under two pilot captains and a brigade commander. Did they all meet with accidents too?
GROSE: There was a war on. We were in hot pursuit of the alien fleet!
SERVALAN: I take it that you fully maintained the S and D log.
GROSE: S and D?
[Lector shrugs.]
SERVALAN: As commanding officer of the ship, which role you dutifully assumed, Section Leader, you are responsible for drawing up a record of the serviceability and disposition of all units in the Fifth Legion.
GROSE: Oh, that.
SERVALAN: So, where is my fleet?
GROSE: Your fleet -- ah, well, all that's left of your fleet -- is one T-16 troop carrier, slightly soiled. Lector, when's it due in?
LECTOR: Should be in now. Touched down ten minutes ago.
GROSE: Uh -- any problems?
LECTOR: Not that I know of.
SERVALAN: Section Leader, I came here in response to your urgent request that I resume personal command of the Federation's most effective and powerful legion. Are you telling me that legion no longer exists?
GROSE: Yep.
SERVALAN: And my flagship?
GROSE: Well, we crashed into this planet in the dark. I mean, it's easily done. We're lucky to be alive.
SERVALAN: Perhaps you will think differently, Section Leader, after your courtmartial. I shall give you an hour to get your personal effects together; then you will report direct back to me.
GROSE: Where are you going?
SERVALAN: Back to my ship.
GROSE: No. [Servalan stares at Grose. Grose and Lector stare back at her.] Madam President. It must seem to you that we've brought you here under false pretenses, but, please, there's no need to return to your ship. We've made extravagant preparations for you here, and, uh....
SERVALAN: "And, uh?"
GROSE: There are things we want you to see. This is no ordinary planet.

[Scene shifts to the ex-prisoners, who are now on the planet's surface and marching along with drunken enthusiasm, still singing, "It's great to be free..." Vila and Doran are with them; Vila is now in prison drab like the others. From a hillside above them, Tarrant watches as they pass, then follows them. As they walk along, Doran suddenly staggers and falls. The other ex-prisoners laugh and keep going. Vila stays with Doran.]
VILA: You all right?
DORAN: Yes, yes. I'm all right. -- You know, I'm not a sentimental man, Vila -- not sentimental. You believe me, don't you?
VILA: [nodding] 'Course I do, Doran.
DORAN: But when they dragged me into that prison cell, they said, "Look at the sun." "Look at the sun," they said. [Vila and Doran look up.] "'Cause as long as you live, you'll never see the sun again." And I haven't. In fifteen years, I've never seen the sun. Or a woman.
VILA: Till now. [The other ex-prisoners have gone on ahead. One of them looks back, beckons, and calls to Doran and Vila, "Hey, you two! Come on!"]
DORAN: Right.
[Doran gets to his feet and hurries off. Vila, after a moment, starts to follow him. Tarrant emerges from cover and grabs Vila's arm.]
TARRANT: Vila!
VILA: Tarrant!
TARRANT: We've got to get out of here.
VILA: I can't, Tarrant -- Look, just a minute -- [calling up the path] Doran!
TARRANT: [trying to pull Vila in the other direction] Come on!
VILA: Let go, will you? I can't just leave him. -- Will you take your hands off me! Let go! [Vila struggles to pull free. Doran sees the situation and tries to intervene.]
DORAN: What are you doing to my pal?
TARRANT: Come on!
[Tarrant makes another effort to pull Vila away. Doran breaks Tarrant's hold on Vila and sends Tarrant sprawling. Doran starts toward Tarrant menacingly.]
DORAN: You want some more?
[Vila hurriedly steps between them.]
VILA: No...no, no, no. Leave him, Doran! [Tarrant gets to his feet, pushes Vila aside and punches Doran hard. Doran reels backwards and lies where he falls, groaning. Tarrant grabs Vila again.]
TARRANT: Quick, now, before you're missed.
VILA: But what about him?
TARRANT: Never mind him. [Tarrant jerks Vila to his feet. Behind them, Doran starts to get up, slowly. Tarrant hauls Vila off into cover, throws him down, and then sits beside him.]
VILA: There was no need for what you did to him.
TARRANT: Vila, we have to get out of here.
VILA: You said that before.
[Vila starts to rise. Tarrant restrains him.]
TARRANT: Vila!
VILA: Listen, Tarrant, will you just stop shoving me around? I've had enough!
TARRANT: All right. I'm very sorry for pushing you around and I'm sorry for hitting your pal; now, can we get on with the job?
VILA: You just don't understand, do you?
TARRANT: I understand this much. Servalan's down here for a reason. I want to find out what that reason is and then I want to kill her. It's all very simple.
VILA: You have to do what you think is best, don't you? Well, so do I.
[Tarrant draws a gun, and levels it at Vila.]
TARRANT: [softly] One way or another -- you're coming with me.
VILA: If it comes down to that, Tarrant, there isn't really a lot of point, is there?

[On the Liberator, Avon and Cally are talking.]
AVON: We shouldn't have made him go.
CALLY: He's a free man; he didn't have to go if he didn't want to.
AVON: He was under pressure. It's all very well for Tarrant to play the hero; that's his decision. But Vila?
CALLY: If he wants to come up he has only to say the word.
AVON: Using a medium-pulse communicator through a medium-pulse energy block?
CALLY: He knows how to change the frequency.
AVON: He may not have time, and what if he does?
CALLY: We bring him up.
AVON: By teleport?
CALLY: By teleport using a short-pulse omicron beam. I know how to do it.
AVON: We've never done it before.
CALLY: We've never been in a situation like this before.
[Dayna enters.]
DAYNA: Avon, it's just not on here -- at least, I can't see it.
AVON: What?
DAYNA: The troop carrier. I've got the astrodome, and Servalan's ship. But there's no sign at all of the T-16.
AVON: Well, there wouldn't be. You're looking at a recorded image. Zen gave us that before the T 16 had arrived. Apart from which, you're looking in the wrong place. Troop carrier came in at -- tangent zero-one-one, which would put it down outside the city entirely.
CALLY: So why should Servalan put her troops down there?
AVON: They are not Servalan's troops. Their ship came in on an entirely different course.
CALLY: [o.o.v.] Where from?
AVON: [o.o.v.] Can't you guess?
CALLY: Calcos?
AVON: Right. Now, ask yourself why they should be shipping in men from a penal colony.
[A beep sounds]
DAYNA: [starting forward] The communicator! They're trying to get through!
AVON: No. We don't risk giving away our position. Zen, can you unscramble what they say?
ZEN: Negative. The verbal distortion is being caused by a high magnetic ...
AVON: [interrupting] Thank you, Zen; we know what's causing it. Dayna, get a locator fix; we're going to have to risk bringing them up.
CALLY: We can't; not yet. The teleport's still on medium pulse. It'll take me twenty minutes.
AVON: If they've got twenty minutes. Zen, confirm that communication is being monitored on the surface.
ZEN: Confirmed.
AVON: I shouldn't have asked.

[Scene shifts to Chesil, at the monitoring station, listening to the following transmission:]
TARRANT: [o.o.v.] Cally, this is Tarrant. Respond, please. Can you hear me? Cally, this is Tarrant. Respond, please. [Chesil presses the "Erase" button. Lector, who had been watching her through a viewport, enters and seizes her by the throat.]
LECTOR: We always know. Even when you're stupid enough to press "Erase." -- Main gate. [Lector gestures at the "Report" button, and Chesil presses it.] -- Guard, we have an intruder at 9-2-8. Sophisticated, and armed. -- [then, to Chesil] But not for very long. [Lector leaves.]

[Scene shifts to Tarrant, who is adjusting settings on his teleport bracelet.]
TARRANT: Avon, Cally, Dayna, anyone, can you hear me? [As he speaks, two guards can be seen behind him; they look at each other and then leave.]

[Scene shifts back to the Liberator. Avon is also working on a teleport bracelet; Cally is working on the teleport itself.
DAYNA: It's Tarrant. He's coming through.
AVON: It took him long enough to work out the frequency.
TARRANT: [o.o.v.] Listen, I need to come up. It should be possible if you adjust the teleport to omicron pulse length. -- Cally, are you hearing me? I need teleport now.

[Scene shifts back to Tarrant. The guards are aiming a weapon at him.]
TARRANT: [screaming] Cally! *Now*!
[The guards fire. Tarrant is struck in the chest, and falls, unconscious.]

[Back on the Liberator...]
DAYNA: Shall I try and raise him? [Dayna reaches for a communicator; Avon moves to block her hand.]
AVON: We can't risk it.
DAYNA: But Tarrant is in ....
AVON: [interrupting] Tarrant is not as important as the Liberator. How long, Cally?
CALLY: Four minutes. The omicron's already charging.
AVON: Let me know when it's ready. I'm going down.
DAYNA: Wait, I'm coming with you.

[Scene shifts back to Tarrant. One of the guards sprints toward him; the other removes a small card from their weapon, and studies it thoughtfully.]

[Scene shifts again to Grose and Servalan, in Grose's office. Chesil is standing in a corner of the room.]
GROSE: [nodding at a viewscreen] That's where their flagship crashed; you can guess at the impact by the size of the crater. Walk out and take a look, if you want to, but you won't find anything worth salvaging. Our live capsules came down just beyond.
[Suddenly, several of the ex-prisoners come into view onscreen, walking along.]
SERVALAN: And who are those men?
GROSE: Them? -- Ah, just vermin. Every planet has them.
SERVALAN: And every planet has craters, Section Leader. I fail to see anything extraordinary here.
GROSE: You want to see something extraordinary?
SERVALAN: I didn't cross the galaxy to watch an assortment of planetary flotsam bedding down on a crater.
GROSE: Very well then, Madam President -- something extraordinary.

[Scene shifts to the ex-prisoners' camp. Doran, dressed in a guard's uniform, is coming forward, his arms laden with supplies.]
DORAN: Ah, Vila!
VILA: Yes; what is it?
DORAN: Gear. [handing items to Vila as he names them] Gun, uniform ... Welcome to the ranks.
VILA: [pointing at a large brown object in Doran's arms] What's that for?
DORAN: Bed.
VILA: I can't sleep on that!
DORAN: How long did you say you were on Calcos? I mean, I don't know about you, old son, but I'm gonna have problems sleeping any other way. [He puts down the bedroll and sits down on it. Vila sits down beside him.] You know, it's funny what you think about in a place like that. I used to imagine I was the commander of a starship, cruising about the galaxy, committing every crime in the book. -- I never thought that one day it'd come true. Won't be the same, huh? Doing them things. I mean, God, if they *want* me to do them....
VILA: What things?
DORAN: Well -- all criminals, aren't we? Now, you're a thief. Not that I don't see where the fun is in thieving. But I can't see why it might be useful to them if there's no fun in it. [leering] Ahh, my problem was always women.
VILA: You like them?
DORAN: No.

[Scene shifts to Grose, Lector, Servalan, and Servalan's mutoid aide. They are in a computer room.]
GROSE: You wanted to see something extraordinary? This is it. The ultimate technology. The gadget by which the entire economy of this planet works. [The gadget consists of two small boxes, placed on either side of a hemisphere. A computer screen is set into the front of the hemisphere. Lector presses some buttons on the right-hand box.]
SERVALAN: Well?
GROSE: Lector.
LECTOR: [to the mutoid] You. Give me your sidearm. [The mutoid looks toward Servalan.] Come on, come on; I shan't use it on you. [Servalan nods permission. The mutoid gives him the weapon. Lector takes the sidearm and puts it into the right-hand box. He presses another button, and text flickers across the hemisphere's screen. After a moment, a small card pops out of a slot in the right-hand box. Lector takes the card and shows it to Servalan.]
SERVALAN: [drily] Very impressive.
GROSE: Oh, it is. Don't doubt it.
LECTOR: Every fact, every detail there is to know about that weapon, is now recorded -- right down to the molecular structure and the disposition of the particles.
SERVALAN: So, you have a very efficient particle scanner.
GROSE: Oh, that's not all. Now that the computer has the pattern, it can produce an endless stream of them -- or anything else that you program into it. [Lector puts the card into a slot on the left-hand box. He presses another button; then opens the left-hand box. He removes a weapon from it, holds it up, and then tucks it into his belt.]
SERVALAN: How?
GROSE: Energy-mass transmuter.
LECTOR: Takes ordinary planetary matter -- usually rock -- and converts it into energy. The computer then restructures it into matter of every kind.
SERVALAN: Precious stones?
GROSE: Gems, crystals, anything you like, so long as you've got the original pattern to work from.
SERVALAN: And how did you discover all this?
GROSE: Me? I didn't. [Grose rises and moves toward the machine.] Nah, it was Colonel Astrid. I merely subdued the natives. It didn't take too much. They relied too heavily on that energy field of theirs. Though -- give them their due -- the only way you can find this planet is by crashing into it. [Grose takes a card and inserts it into the left-hand box's slot; then he presses a button.] No, it was Astrid -- ah, who saw the value of this stuff, and Astrid who designed Moloch to look after it.
SERVALAN: Moloch?
GROSE: Master computer. Sees all, hears all -- and occasionally says something. [Grose removes a doughnut from the left- hand box, and eats it during the ensuing conversation.]
SERVALAN: And how many of these devices are there?
GROSE: Dozens. Hundreds. I use them for everything. Food, clothing, building, engineering -- oh, yes, some of them are very big. You'd be surprised.
SERVALAN: Very well, Section Leader, you've convinced me. There are ways I could put this system to profitable use.
GROSE: A great many ways, Madam President. More ways than you've begun to realize. But that isn't why I summoned you to Sardos. [Grose nods at Lector and hands him a card. Lector moves to the machine, and inserts the card.]
SERVALAN: Would you say that again?
GROSE: I brought you here because you had something I hadn't. Something I needed. A pattern. [He gestures at the hemisphere's screen, which now shows a Federation starship.]
SERVALAN: A Mark Two star- ... That's my ship.
GROSE: My ship. The flagship of a fleet that grows with every hour. [Servalan nods to the mutoid, who draws her rifle, aiming for Grose. Lector, using the duplicate weapon, shoots first. The mutoid falls.] -- Guard! [Two stormtroopers enter, bend over the mutoid, and drag it away.] -- You see, it *is* a perfect, working copy.
SERVALAN: And I suppose that machine turns out perfect, working space captains, too.
GROSE: No. [He nods to Lector, who comes forward, carrying a cage that contains a white mouse.]
LECTOR: [o.o.v.] If you think of this mouse as a space captain -- it's perfectly healthy, as you can see.
SERVALAN: I'll take your word for it.
LECTOR: [putting the mouse in the right-hand box] We make duplicates -- [He presses the button, removes the mouse's card, and inserts it in the left-hand slot. Then, from the left-hand box, he removes a cage containing a dead mouse. He opens the cage, and holds up the dead mouse.]
GROSE: That's how they come out. Perfect copies, but don't work. Colonel Astrid said they lacked a life-support system to carry them through the trauma of molecular integration. Well, I took it to mean they snuffed it before they got going properly. Still, no matter. We've got men enough. And more coming.
SERVALAN: Those men in the crater? Oh, you have miscalculated badly, Grose. It takes a clever man five years in Space Academy before he even begins to acquire the basic skills and experience necessary to pilot an advanced star cruiser.
GROSE: All taken care of, Madam President.
LECTOR: We find a suitable pilot; the scanner gets all the details -- then Moloch sifts the skills and experiences and programs them into an automatic control system. So long as our men can speak, their ship's computers do all the rest.
GROSE: Unfortunately, when it came to skills, your pilots didn't have much to offer.
SERVALAN: Where are my pilots?
GROSE: Internment camp. Doubtless I shall think of some suitably entertaining way to execute them. They're no use to me. No, we found a much more enterprising pattern to work from. Now this -- [holding up another card] is a starship captain who knows the lot. A shame he's got to die too.
SERVALAN: All very clever, Section Leader. But now, perhaps, I should tell you something. Shortly before he died, Colonel Astrid sent me a report. What it said gave me serious doubts about your loyalty. Serious enough for me to leave precise instructions with my Supreme Command. If you persist with this treachery, this planet will be blasted into outer darkness where it belongs.
GROSE: Madam President, if your reconstituted Federation was worth a light, you wouldn't have chased halfway across the galaxy to retrieve one legion. Already I suspect my fleet outnumbers yours. Soon, it'll be the most powerful in the galaxy. -- Apart from which, I didn't murder Colonel Astrid. Perhaps you'd care to say hello?

[Lector presses a button, and a door slides open, revealing a body, wrapped in white and suspended in a tank of liquid.]

GROSE: [o.o.v.] He's perfectly all right -- healthy, well-nourished. There's just no contact, that's all. No sensory perception. He just floats there, in a dark, lonely nothingness.
SERVALAN: Why?
LECTOR: He went berserk. Tried to smash up the computer. Seemed reasonable to let the computer think up a punishment for him. And that's what Moloch came up with.
GROSE: Perhaps we'll ask him to suggest something for you.
MOLOCH: Give her to your men.
GROSE: Well, it seems you've outstayed your welcome. [Two stormtroopers come forward and seize Servalan. She breaks their hold; then raises her hands in surrender.]
SERVALAN: You'll suffer for this, Grose. [Servalan exits, followed by the stormtroopers. Lector looks after her. Grose munches another doughnut.] [On the Liberator, Cally, Avon, Dayna and Orac are gathered by the teleport.]
ORAC: The computer control room is situated within the complex at grid 6-2-2, and the focal center precisely seven meters west of the entrance to this room.
DAYNA: [smiling] Bit vague, isn't it, Orac.
ORAC: I said, precisely.
AVON: [to Cally] Pocket chart. [Cally hands it to him.] Perhaps I should ask Orac to estimate our chances.
DAYNA: I'd rather not know.
AVON: All right. -- Cally, put us down on exactly there. [He shows her the place on the pocket chart, and she adjusts the teleport accordingly.
CALLY: What do I do if Vila calls?
AVON: Bring him up.
DAYNA: [from the teleport] And that goes for us, too. [Avon steps into the teleport, and levels his blaster. Following his example, Dayna levels her blaster also.]
AVON: At the first squeak.
[Cally teleports them down.]

[They reappear in a corridor. When they come to a door, Avon gestures to Dayna, and she listens at it.]
DAYNA: Nothing.
AVON: Well, this is it -- computer control. Unless Orac has got his wires twisted. [Avon touches the door, to no apparent effect.]
DAYNA: Perhaps you need an invitation.
AVON: Or a more enthusiastic approach. Stand back. [Dayna does. Avon takes aim at the door -- which suddenly slides open. Dayna and Avon look at each other; Dayna makes a "you first" gesture. Avon goes through the door, and Dayna follows him.]

[The scene shifts to the ex-prisoners' camp. Vila is there, in a Federation uniform. Several prisoners are laughing; after a moment, Vila laughs too.]
DORAN: [to Vila] Didn't I tell you we was in for the high life? Bedding -- uniform -- cheerful company of your fellow man? What else is there, eh?
VILA: A hot meal?
DORAN: A woman! I promised you a woman. Didn't I? [He grins lecherously and leads Vila toward a tent.] That's a partner of mine, I thought; what the hell, Vila likes a woman.... [to the woman] Here he is. [The woman is Servalan. Vila stares at her dumbly.] -- [to Vila] There you are. Love at first sight. Knew you'd get along. -- Don't be shy. [Doran pushes Vila toward Servalan, knocking him down. Vila draws his gun and points it at Servalan.] Go on.
SERVALAN: I should have known it was Tarrant he was talking about. [Vila rises and moves toward her, still holding the gun on her. Doran snickers and leaves.]
VILA: Right. Now, then.
SERVALAN: No, Vila; listen. Untie me, and then we can help each other.
VILA: I never imagined you as the sort that would grovel for her life.
SERVALAN: I am not groveling, you fool. I mean it.
VILA: You are groveling.
SERVALAN: I am not! -- They've got Tarrant. Now, I can show you where they're holding him. At least, I can suggest where to start looking.
VILA: Why should you want to?
SERVALAN: Because they're holding two of my pilots there as well. -- Now, are you going to untie me, or not?
VILA: Last time I saw Tarrant, I was looking down the end of his gun.
SERVALAN: So, why are we on opposite sides?

[Scene shifts to the computer room. Avon and Dayna are examining the energy-mass transmuter.]
AVON: If this is what I think it is, it's incredible.
DAYNA: This room's creepy.
AVON: What?
DAYNA: [holding up the dead mouse] Creepy. [She hands the mouse to Avon. Avon looks at the mouse for a moment, then walks over to the left-hand box, inserts a card, and presses a button. At the sound of the machine operating, Dayna draws her blaster. Avon opens the left-hand box and removes a golden apple. He examines it carefully, polishes it on his shirt-front, and then prepares to eat it.]
DAYNA: Avon! [Dayna takes the apple from him.] Be careful! [Avon takes the apple back, and bites into it.]

[Scene shifts to Lector and Chesil, in the monitoring station, watching Avon and Dayna on the viewscreen.]
LECTOR: How did they get into the building?
CHESIL: I don't know.
LECTOR: Move in on the man. [Chesil makes an adjustment, and the screen shows a close-up of Avon.] Mmm. -- Watch them.
[Lector leaves.]

[Scene shifts to Vila and Servalan. Servalan is leading the way; Vila is still holding a gun on her.]
SERVALAN: Vila, you really must try and be a bit more trusting. After all, we're both in exactly ....
VILA: [interrupting] Look, I'm not going to tell you again.... Now what is it? [Ahead of them, there is a campfire, with someone tending it.] Oh.
[Vila stops, and looks at Servalan. She looks back at him.]
SERVALAN: Well? What are you going to do?
VILA: Uh...we'll have to find a way to get round him.
SERVALAN: What for?
VILA: He's armed.
SERVALAN: *You're* armed.
VILA: Yes, but ...
SERVALAN: Oh, give me the gun. I'll see to it.
VILA: No. -- I will.
[Vila starts sneaking toward the campfire. Behind him, Servalan raises her eyes heavenward with a 'God-give-me-strength' look, then moves into cover, well away from Vila. Vila gets into range and levels the gun. Instead of firing, he glances nervously over at Servalan. She nods back and silently mouths, "Go on!" Vila levels the gun again -- then, once more, glances over at Servalan. This time, the man at the campfire sees him and charges him.]
SERVALAN: [shouting] Watch out! [Vila promptly drops the gun. The other man knocks him down and starts pummeling him. Vila, yelping with every blow that hits him, nevertheless fights back, and the two roll through the underbrush. Servalan moves toward them; as she does, Vila manages to rise. The other man grabs Vila's arm and throws him; the throw shakes loose his teleport bracelet, which rolls over to lie next to the gun. As the other man straddles Vila and begins to pummel him further, Servalan looks down at gun and bracelet, then takes a large rock and hits the man over the head with it. Vila dazedly disentangles himself from the other man and gets up, to see Servalan with his gun in one hand and his teleport bracelet in the other. Needless to say, the gun is leveled at Vila.
SERVALAN: Vila, you always were a miserable coward.
VILA: Give me the teleport bracelet. It's no use to you. -- Well, give it to me!
[Behind Vila's back, the man gets up again. He moves to take Vila by the throat, and Servalan shoots him. He falls. When Vila turns around, Servalan is gone.]
VILA: [to himself] "Vila, you really must try and be a bit more trusting."

[Back in the computer room, Avon is looking at a card.]
AVON: [to Dayna] Have you checked for surveillance devices?
DAYNA: No.
AVON: You'd better do it then, hadn't you? [Avon inserts a card into the slot, and sees Tarrant on the screen. Thoughtfully, he looks from the screen to the dead mouse.]
DAYNA: Avon, look! [Dayna has opened the door that leads to Colonel Astrid's tank.] It's horrible! What's he doing there?
AVON: Being fairly inscrutable, I would say. -- There's a pulse in his neck.
DAYNA: [o.o.v.] He's alive?
AVON: He's being kept alive. [Avon waves his hand in front of Astrid's face.] No reaction. He's completely cut off.
DAYNA: You call that living?
AVON: Technically, it is. Effectively, it's just a brain floating around in some lukewarm water. But then, strictly speaking, he doesn't really need his senses, because he is in a totally efficient life-support system.
DAYNA: Yes, but why is he hanging...
AVON: [interrupting] Just a minute -- let me think about this. Close him down. [Dayna complies.] These people have built a machine which will give them everything they need at the touch of a button.
DAYNA: They've still got to control it all.
AVON: The computer controls it. They don't need to do anything. And, in evolutionary terms, what you don't need, you lose.
DAYNA: Yes, but it's all physical. Somebody has to press the buttons.
AVON: Now they do. I'm not talking about now.
DAYNA: I don't follow.
AVON: Orac told us that the Sardoans had made a detailed computer projection into their future.
DAYNA: Oh, yes; they wanted to see what their race would be like in two million years' time.
AVON: Right. Now, supposing they put that computer projection onto a card like this and then put it into one of those machines. The card simply carries information. It can be a particle scan from a real object -- or a computer projection. The machine doesn't mind. Either way, it will deliver the goods.
DAYNA: Yes, but not alive, surely! With a heart, and nervous system ... it'd all be too delicate.
AVON: It will, if the program carries a built-in life-support system: a machine to do the work of the organs.
DAYNA: [glancing toward Astrid's door] Like his?
AVON: No. That's where the theory breaks down. He's far too vulnerable. In order to evolve -- and to survive -- for two million years, he would have to be in control of his environment. He would have to be at the very center of a sophisticated technical complex -- which, if Orac has got his sums right, is not there. But, seven meters due west of the entrance ought to be precisely -- that thing there. [As Avon points toward the hemisphere, a shot rings out. Grose and two stormtroopers have entered. They hold their guns on Avon and Dayna, who turn and raise their hands.]
GROSE: Don't move. Drop your communicators. -- Do it! [Avon and Dayna comply, and Grose gestures with the gun.] Over there.
[Dayna and Avon begin to move in the direction indicated. The troopers fall in behind them. Halfway across the room, Avon spins and attacks the trooper behind him. Avon downs that trooper; then goes for the other trooper. As he takes him on, Grose hits him from behind with a shoulder chop, twists his arm, and then pushes him toward Dayna, who is still standing with her hands raised. After a moment, looking at his wrist and grimacing, Avon raises his hands, too.]
GROSE: You know, you really picked a stupid place to do your trespassing.

[Scene shifts to Vila, who is searching the other man's body. Vila finds the man's gun, takes it, and heads for the internment compound. He reaches it unchallenged, and looks in. Inside, guards' bodies are sprawled everywhere. As he enters, Tarrant comes forward and takes him by the arm. Tarrant, too, is dressed as a Federation guard.]
TARRANT: Vila.
VILA: Don't try anything smart. I've been conned enough for one day. -- Where's Servalan?
TARRANT: She's gone.
VILA: So how come you're not dead?
TARRANT: Look, she came; she blasted off with her sidearm, grabbed her two pilots, and went. Maybe she had other things on her mind. Maybe she didn't see me. I don't know. I don't care all that much. Now let's try and get under cover, before we're seen.
VILA: All right. [They sprint for cover. As soon as they reach it, Vila speaks:] Before we go any further, I want you to know -- that I didn't steal this uniform off a dead guard. I was issued it.
TARRANT: So?
VILA: They were gonna make me a starship captain. Just as long as you know. All you got for your cleverness was an execution order on your head.
TARRANT: Yes, Vila. I take the point. You're obviously far cleverer than I.
VILA: Right.
TARRANT: [examining a map] So -- this is where we're going.
VILA: What? -- Where are we going?
TARRANT: To destroy a computer.
VILA: Why?
TARRANT: It knows too much about me. [Scene shifts to the computer room, where Avon and Dayna, hands bound, are being interrogated by Grose and Lector. Two stormtroopers are at the back of the room.]
GROSE: [o.o.v.] It isn't the information we want, as such. It's the fun of extracting it. We can be very crude like that, can't we, Lector?
LECTOR: Oh, crude, yeah. Crude as they come.
GROSE: For instance, we could put you through the particle scanner, and get the computer to tell us everything. But there's no fun in that. There's something satisfying about a good, old-fashioned interrogation.
AVON: That's a convincing argument, but it does have a flaw.
GROSE: Go on.
AVON: If interrogation were simply a way of satisfying your sadistic whims, you would cut the chat and get on with the torture.
LECTOR: [o.o.v.] We will. Don't worry.
AVON: You see, I happen to know that you put Tarrant through the particle scanner. All the answers -- why we came here, what we came for, how we arrived on the planet -- everything you want to know could easily be deduced from information that you already have.
GROSE: Yes, that information is there, if we care to sift through it and analyze.
AVON: [o.o.v.] Why don't you ask your computer?
GROSE: Because we're asking you.
AVON: Or, is it because the computer won't tell you? You are interrogating the wrong subject. You should be asking your computer why it has chosen to withhold information.
GROSE: It hasn't chosen to do anything. I told you; it needs to be sifted and analyzed.
AVON: A computer should be able to do that in microseconds.
GROSE: Lector -- that man has an injured wrist. He seems to have got over the initial discomfort.
[Lector comes over and puts pressure on Avon's wrist. Avon gives a choked cry of pain.]

[Scene shifts to Chesil, at the monitoring station, watching Tarrant and Vila. She rises as a stormtrooper enters. He walks over to her -- and takes off his helmet. The trooper is seen to be Doran.]
DORAN: All right -- what's it all about, eh? What's going on?
CHESIL: I don't know what you mean.
DORAN: Oh, yes; yes, you do, lady; you know what I'm on about. [gesturing at the monitoring screens] These eyes are everywhere, right?
CHESIL: What do you want?
DORAN: I don't want aggravated. 'Cause when Doran gets aggravated, he kills people. Now, what have they done to him?
CHESIL: Done to who?
DORAN: My pal, that's who. What have they done to my pal?
CHESIL. Your pal? I don't know who you mean.
DORAN: [looking at the screen] There he is! I see him. [As Doran watches, Vila drops his gun and has to stop to pick it up. Doran laughs.] There's no question. That's my pal from Calcos.
CHESIL: How do you know it's your pal?
DORAN: Well, he dropped his gun, didn't he?
CHESIL: Oh, he's not from Calcos.
DORAN: Well, of course he is. For thieving, that's what.
CHESIL: The starship!
DORAN: Eh?
CHESIL: They're from the starship! [She turns, and starts toward the door.]
DORAN: Wait a minute, lady. Where're you off to?
CHESIL: Listen! They're here to help us. We knew one day it would happen. Somebody would come. I must go to them.
DORAN: But wait, lady. That's my pal! I'm on his side.
CHESIL: Come on!

[Scene shifts to the computer room. The interrogation is still going on.]
GROSE: I shall ask you once again. Where do you come from? Why did you come here, and how did you arrive on this planet?
AVON: [in obvious pain] Guess!
GROSE: Lector. [Lector moves toward him again. Dayna winces in sympathy as, moments later, Avon gasps in pain.]

[Tarrant and Vila are seen, moving down a corridor near the computer center. As they reach a T junction, they meet Doran and Chesil.]
DORAN: Here's my pal!
VILA: Doran!
DORAN: Hah, hah! [They embrace. Chesil turns and checks out the corridor Tarrant and Vila had come from; Tarrant hurries back to Vila and Doran. The three men confer for a moment.]
DORAN: [to Chesil] Where's the computer room? [Chesil hurries back, and starts off down one arm of the T, beckoning the others to follow. They do so, and she leads them there. The door is closed, and Vila steps forward to see if he can open it. As he does so, Avon's groan can be heard on the other side of the door.]
AVON: [o.o.v.] Aaah! [Vila stops, and glances nervously at Tarrant, who gestures for him to continue.]
GROSE: [o.o.v.] For the last time, where do you come from, why did you come here, and how did you arrive on this planet?
[Vila, stymied by the door, looks back at Tarrant and shrugs his shoulders, then turns back to try again.]

[Scene shifts to the other side of the door.]
AVON: Aaah!
DAYNA: All right. Enough. We're from the Liberator.
GROSE: The Liberator? That's Blake's ship.
AVON: He liked to think so.
GROSE: [o.o.v.] And why did you come here?
AVON: I wish I knew. [Tarrant, Vila, Chesil, and Doran burst through the door.]
TARRANT: [levelling his gun at Grose] Hold it! Keep it very still. Release them.
[On the other side of the room, Lector, using first Avon and then a stormtrooper for cover, runs forward and attacks Doran. Tarrant whirls and shoots; Lector falls.]
TARRANT: Watch it!
DORAN: Watch it!
TARRANT: [to the stormtroopers] Drop your guns.
DORAN: [pointing his gun at the troopers] Go on, drop them. [The guards do so, raising their hands.] Right; up there. Move! [Doran gestures to the viewing area on the far side of the room, which is slightly elevated, and the guards move to it. Doran covers them.]
TARRANT: [to Grose] Now you.
GROSE: You're wasting your time. Every move is being monitored.
TARRANT: Then you'd better hope nobody comes. Because if they do.... [Doran suddenly shoots both stormtroopers.]
DORAN: Went off in my hand, didn't it? [Tarrant turns toward Doran; Grose takes partial cover under the lab table. He aims for Tarrant.]
DAYNA: [o.o.v.] Tarrant!
[Tarrant shoots before Grose can fire. Grose falls. Vila comes over to Avon and starts to unbind his hands. Avon cries out as Vila touches him.]
AVON: Aaah! Careful of my wrist, Vila; it's had enough.
TARRANT: [o.o.v.] Who's got a bracelet?
DAYNA: [o.o.v.] On the machine. [There is indeed a teleport bracelet on the transmuter.]
TARRANT: [o.o.v.] Get it!
[Before anyone can do so, an energy blast flares up around the bracelet.]
VILA: Who did that?
DORAN: [staring at the bracelet] Um....
CHESIL: Never mind about the bracelet. We've got to get out of here!
[She and Doran run for the door. As they cross the threshold, they are caught in an energy blast. Both fall.]
VILA: [running toward them] Doran! [The door closes before Vila can reach it.]
TARRANT: [staring at the hemisphere] It's that thing. [He begins to walk toward it.]
AVON: [o.o.v.] Get away from there! It can protect itself.
TARRANT: [standing still] Protect itself? What is it?
AVON: Get away from there! Move!
[Tarrant backs away. Dayna, Avon and Tarrant aim blasters at the hemisphere, which slowly opens to reveal a wrinkled head. It has one eye in the center of its forehead.]
VILA: [o.o.v.] Who are you?
MOLOCH: I am Moloch.
AVON: [o.o.v.] Yes. That is how I reasoned you would look.
MOLOCH: For a man of your era, you have uncommon qualities of deduction, Avon.
DAYNA: He knows you!
MOLOCH: I know each one of you.
VILA: What is it?
AVON: A man from our future. Someone was stupid enough to take a computer prediction and turn it into reality.
MOLOCH: Colonel Astrid, he caused my being. Then tried to destroy me.
TARRANT: What do you want with us?
MOLOCH: The Liberator. A perfect vehicle through which to express myself. Servalan was merely the bait to bring you here.
[Dayna prepares to fire.]
AVON: [restraining her] No, Dayna.
MOLOCH: There is nothing any one of you can do. The Liberator is mine.
TARRANT: Cally will never take you aboard. Never.
MOLOCH: She will, Tarrant. She will....She will...She will...She will.
[The hemisphere slowly closes as Moloch's voice becomes Tarrants].

[On the Liberator, Cally is seen, seated at the controls of the teleport.]
MOLOCH: [over the communicator, in Tarrant's voice] Cally, this is Tarrant.
CALLY: Not before time.
MOLOCH: [still in Tarrant's voice] Ready for teleport. [Cally works the teleport, then gasps in horror.]

[Back in the computer room, Avon moves towards the hemisphere.]
VILA: But, Avon --
AVON: For a man of his era -- to coin a phrase -- he has just made a hell of a stupid mistake.
TARRANT: Mistake? What mistake?
AVON: [picking up the teleport bracelet] Cally; this is Avon. We'll be ready to teleport in two minutes.
[Avon walks over to the right-hand box of the transmuter, and puts the bracelet into it. He presses its activation button.] How many bracelets do you think we're going to need?

[Back on the Liberator, the team is looking down at Moloch's body. It consists of Moloch's large head, a single cyclopean eye, and vestigial hands and feet.]
AVON: He falsely assumed that the technology and computers were an integral part of himself, like an arm or a leg, but take him out of his life support system and that's what you're left with.
CALLY: And that's what the teleport did to him?
DAYNA: How will the Sardoans make out without him?
AVON: Infinitely better, I should imagine -- and so will Colonel Astrid, once they get him out of that chamber. Their main problem is likely to stem from a group of unemployed villains from Calcos.
VILA: Do 'em good. They're a stuck-up bunch on Sardos, from what I've heard.
ZEN: Information. Three alien spacecraft in hostile formation bearing zero-zero-nine, two million spacials.
TARRANT: Flight deck. [They run to take their places on the bridge.]
TARRANT: Zen, enemy position.
ZEN: One million spacials. We have visual contact with hostile commander.
TARRANT: Put her on.
SERVALAN: [on the viewscreen] Liberator, this is Servalan, President and Supreme Commander of the Terran Federation. You are outnumbered, and at a tactical disadvantage. If you surrender your ship....
[Avon cuts off the transmission.]
DAYNA: Do we fight?
AVON: Certainly not. We run. Zen, course zero-one-one, speed, standard by six. -- Get us out of here.

END