On the Command Carrier, Grayza pulls out a small box and removes something gross. Telling Braca "an explanation would be pointless," since he'll have no memory of what happens next, she spikes his forehead with the gross thing, and there's a green flash. Braca's eyes roll back and he becomes the Skreeth. "It's Grayza. Report." Crichton is currently on Moya, the Skreeth tells her through Braca, which is orbiting Earth. Which is where? "Unknown. We traveled through a wormhole to reach it." Meaning that they can't get there, so the Skreeth needs to do recon. "Allowing me to interrogate Crichton will yield quicker answers," the Skreeth protests, but Grayza of all people knows his immunity to interrogation. "Stay hidden until we know more. Understood?"
On Moya, the Skreeth becomes invisible; Grayza unplugs the now-sweating Braca, dropping him with a gasp and a groan. She puts her hand under his chin, pulling his eyes toward her: "We took a short break for recreation." She asks if he doesn't remember. "Perhaps you will next time." He thinks about how pissed Scorpius will be when he hears Braca's stepping out. She chucks his chin and stands: "But duty first." Now at attention, Braca straightens his tunic and awaits orders. "Run a full weapons systems check immediately. I want this ship ready to destroy a planet." Oh really?
John tells D'Argo, in a corridor, that Moya's readings match his homework: "It's gonna be at least seventy arns before the wormhole's stable enough for Moya to get back through." Three days is a long time, especially when you're high on laka with Aeryn and Caroline. D'Argo mentions Pilot's (and Moya's) excitement about "giving humans their first trip to the stars." Awww. John lets D'Argo know that's not happening: "We'll be long gone while they're still bickering over who gets the tickets." That's really sad. John tells D'Argo it's a plan to keep them occupied with something shiny so they don't just try to take the tech by force. "But we're not giving them anything," D'Argo notes. "Their scientists can't even work out how to use pulse pistols." Which is fine, since Earth doesn't have chakkan oil anyway. I like how John's handling all of this, even if the way it all works out is kind of heart-warmingly dorky. John examines a laka bulb and D'Argo stares at him; "Don't look at me like that," is John's response. As though they were still talking about the tech bluff: "You know how paranoid my planet is." D'Argo stays in the conversation not having to do with John's busy destruction of his romantic subplot: "Yeah, they don't like aliens." They don't like anybody, in fact, says John. "I'm glad to see you taking a positive approach," snorts D'Argo. He's gotten really good at these minefield conversations with my man John. "Cooperation, teamwork, distraction...give 'em a few hints, then we get the hell outta Dodge and hope they get their act together before the real space monsters show up." Look upward, while I duck out the back. John's really got a problem with confrontation right now.