All language subtitles for Star Trek Enterprise S01E14 Sleeping Dogs

You have a ten-second firing window.
Ready?

Ready.

Go.

Time.

Any better?

Your hit-to-miss ratio
is still below 50 percent.

If those had been live rounds,

you'd have blown out
two or three bulkheads.

I never had this much trouble
with the EM-33.

This is an entirely new weapon.

Unlike the EM-33, you don't have
to compensate for particle drift.

Just point straight at the target.

And try and keep your
shoulders relaxed.

It's hard to aim accurately
when you're tense.

- Are you all right?
- Yeah, fine.

You'll get the hang of it.
Let's try for 20 seconds this time.

I thought we were staying at warp
for the next few days.

Oh, we're approaching a gas giant.
Class 9.

So much for target practice.

We'll pick it up tomorrow.

The probe's entered
the outer atmosphere.

- Can we clean up the signal?
- I'm trying, sir.

There's a lot of EM interference.
It sounds very strange.

Intense magnetic fields often create
unique waveforms.

Let's hear them.

Siren calls.

That's what we called them
when I was a kid.

My dad put them through the speakers
whenever we flew by a gas giant.

It gave me nightmares sometimes.

Other than keeping Ensign Mayweather
up at night,

I'm not sure what we expect
to accomplish here.

There are four gas giants
in your own solar system.

None of them are Class 9.

I think this one's worth a closer look.

I'm reading an anomalous power
signature in the lower atmosphere.

And several bio-signs.

- Get the probe closer.
- Aye, sir.

We can travel faster
than the speed of light.

You'd think we could find a cure
for the common cold.

You should be grateful.
A human cold is so mild.

I once had a patient with
the Kamaraazite flu.

He sneezed so violently,
he nearly regurgitated his pineal gland.

I don't see how I could
actually catch a cold

on a hermetically sealed starship.

Oh, you may have picked up the virus
from a piece of equipment.

It could have been lurking
inside a sealed container.

I did open a case of plasma coolant.

Well, whoever packed that case
was probably nursing a cold.

But that was back in space dock
five months ago.

You underestimate the tenacity
of a virus, lieutenant.

It can lay dormant for months, adapt to
whatever environment it finds itself in.

This should ease the symptoms.

But the only cure I know of
involves bed rest.

No, that'll have to wait.

The captain wants me on the team
investigating that shipwreck.

You won't be contagious inside
an environment suit.

Just try not to sneeze
in your helmet.

I'll do my best.

Come in.

Hoshi.

- Do you have a minute, sir?
- Of course. What's on your mind?

That shipwreck.

We have no idea what type of life
forms we'll find on that alien vessel.

And there's a lot of interference
in the atmosphere.

Are you sure the Away Team
won't need a translator?

They have their UTs, and we'll try
to keep an open comlink.

What about the language on
the control panels, the hatches?

They might need someone to help
them find their way around.

Are you trying to tell me something?

I realise that I haven't always been

the first one in line to volunteer
for this type of mission.

But I want you to know that I'm
prepared to go.

Took a while, but I think I finally
got my space legs.

I never doubted that you'd find them.

Your timing couldn't be better.

T'Pol just asked me
to assign you to the team.

You'd better get to the launch bay
before they leave without you.

Aye, sir.

I thought you were acquainted
with the environmental suit.

I am. I'm just brushing up
on the backup systems.

I wouldn't want the emergency
oxygen to fail during a hull breach.

Trust me, ensign.
If there's a hull breach,

the pressure will crush you
into something about this big.

I requested you for your skills
as a translator,

- but if you're uncomfortable...
- I'm perfectly comfortable.

I used to find the suits a little
claustrophobic...

...but I'm getting used to them.

I'll see you in the shuttlepod.

It's 100 kilometres below us,
still descending.

Gravity's pulling it deeper
into the atmosphere.

At their current altitude,
the pressure is 15,000 g.s.c.

- That's well within our hull tolerance.
- For the moment.

But at the rate that vessel is sinking,
we'll have an hour at most.

You sound uncomfortable,
sub-commander.

I'm merely stating facts.

We'll be on our way back
well before we're in any danger.

I for one have no interest
in imploding a valuable shuttlepod.

Or three valuable officers.

We've entered an eddy
of liquid helium.

- We're clear.
- That wasn't so bad.

One hundred metres.

- Is that a hatch on the port side?
- I see it.

Fifty metres.

Forty.

- What's that?
- It's just the proximity alarm.

Twenty metres.

Ten.

Engaging docking interface.

Nitrogen-oxygen atmosphere.

Carbon dioxide levels are high,
but nothing's toxic.

It's breathable.

You first.

Perhaps we should leave
the helmets on.

What is it?

- You can't smell that?
- No. This damn cold.

Count your blessings.

You two might wanna
take a look at this.

It says, "Deck 2, Red Sector."

What language?

Klingon.

I thought you knew Klingon ships.

Why didn't you recognise this one
from the outside?

There are many classes of ships.
I'm not familiar with all of them.

So I'm assuming you don't know
how many Klingons are onboard.

I'm reading three bio-signs.

That way. All very weak.

How weak?

They're still alive.

We should leave before
they regain consciousness.

And what if they don't?

The atmosphere's gonna crush
this ship like an eggshell soon.

- Shouldn't we try to help them?
- They don't want our help.

- How do you know?
- They're Klingons.

To die at their posts assures them
a path to the afterlife.

If we rescue them,
they'd be dishonoured.

Well, I for one don't intend to
just fly off and let these people die,

honourable deaths or not.

Your compassion is admirable
but misguided.

If they awake and find us
on their ship, they'll kill us.

- How many are there?
- Three on the bridge.

But I'm detecting at least
nine more bio-signs onboard.

You can't tell
what happened to them?

I'm detecting residual amounts of
a carbon-dioxide-based neurotoxin.

But it seems to have dissipated.
There's not enough to affect us.

Stand by.

How long is the pod's hull
going to hold up?

At their present rate of descent...

...half-hour, give or take.

- T'Pol.
- Yes, captain.

You've got 20 minutes to see
if you can do anything for that crew.

Then I want you out of there.
Understood?

I don't believe there's anything
we can do in 20 minutes.

- I suggest we leave now.
- You have a margin of safety.

Captain?

T'Pol to Enterprise.

- Damn interference.
- Or we've dropped out of com range.

We still have 20 minutes.

It doesn't make sense to place
ourselves at risk when they'd rather die.

There must be something
we can do.

Maybe they have a distress beacon
we can activate.

I doubt you'll find one.
Klingons don't call for help.

What if we carry
some of them into the pod?

We could save three or four.

And if they wake up
on the trip back to Enterprise?

- What's that?
- It's our shuttlepod taking off.

Try it now.

Archer to T'Pol.

What's your status?

They're back in com range.

Captain.

Shuttlepod One, respond.

Sir, they're heading into open space.

I'm picking up something.

Sounds like Klingon.

I'll try to tie in the UT.

- In range. Respond.

We've been attacked by an unknown
ship, designation Enterprise NX-01.

Any warships in range, respond.

- Set a pursuit course.
- Aye, sir.

Bring the grappler online.

We've got it.

Bridge to Security.

Send a team to Launch Bay 1.
Trip.

- The bridge is yours, Travis.
- Yes, sir.

Everybody all right?

- Archer to the bridge.
- Mayweather.

Have you still got a fix
on the shipwreck?

Yes, sir.

Transfer the coordinates
to the launch bay.

I'm going back
for the boarding party.

Sir, the alien ship sunk
another 2000 metres.

It's below the shuttle's safety limits.

Then polarise the hull plating.

We'll take Enterprise down.

There's got to be some way
off this ship.

What about escape pods?

I don't know about the structural
integrity of Klingon escape pods.

My guess is we're
better off in here.

It's irrelevant, lieutenant.
Klingons don't use escape pods.

It would be considered an act
of cowardice to abandon ship.

Maybe we can use their com system
to contact Enterprise.

I doubt their com will penetrate the
EM field any better than our own.

If we can access
their helm controls,

we might be able to put
this vessel into a stable orbit.

I haven't had much experience
at piloting Klingon ships.

We have no other choice.

Start translating those consoles.

Look for anything marked "propulsion,"
"helm," "navigation."

I'll try, but reading Klingon is
a lot different than speaking it.

We could always try waking
one of them to help us.

All right.

"Plasma containment," maybe?

You're certain?

"Containment."

I'm certain.

Something they call
"photon torpedoes."

Photon torpedoes? I've never heard
of anything like that. What else?

Well, this all looks like
weapons systems.

Torpedoes, tactical sensors,
disruptor arrays.

What about this one?

I recognise "pressure."

That can mean "wall," or "barrier."

- Or "hull"?
- Maybe.

If I'm reading this correctly,
we've got a few hours at most.

The hull integrity is failing.

Then we better hurry.

This appears to be the helm station.

I think you're right.
"Impulse drive."

Good work, Hoshi.

Hoshi?

It says the pressure's failing
in the...

"Fusion manifold."
Do you know what that means?

To quote our very own Mr Tucker,
it means we're dead in the water.

Archer to boarding party.
Come in.

We read you, captain.

- How are you holding up?
- We're doing okay, sir.

It's nice to hear your voice.

What's your status?

We've been attempting
to restart their engines,

but they appear to be off-line.

Don't worry about it.
We're coming to get you.

Travis, how much farther?

Ten thousand metres, but I'm having
a hard time getting a fix on them.

Too much interference.

- Is our probe still working?
- Barely.

Try using it to triangulate
their position.

The probe's gone.

Sir, external pressure's at maximum.

I'm afraid we've got a little hitch
in our rescue plan.

The hull plating's failing.

We'll be back for you
as soon as we can.

In the meantime, just sit tight...

Captain, you're breaking up.

Captain?

Release me. Cowards!
Let me die on my feet.

T'Pol was right.

There's a neurotoxin
in her bloodstream.

Untreated, it could kill her
within a day or two.

- Can you do anything?
- I'm working on it.

T'Pol said the Klingons
were unconscious.

Why is this one so lively?

She's showing the effects
of hypothermia.

My guess is, she took refuge

in a low-temperature environment
aboard her ship.

The cold would have delayed
the effects of the toxin.

I demand to speak to your captain.

You know, I read if they sense
a leader's weak,

they'll try to kill him
and take command.

I'm the captain.

I've never seen your kind before,

but you have made an enemy
of the Klingon Empire.

From what I've noticed,
that's not hard to do.

You stranded three of my people
down there.

You raided my vessel,
infected my crew.

We didn't infect anyone.

- We boarded your ship to try and help.
- Liar.

Look, I don't know what happened
to your crew,

but we had nothing
to do with it.

Now your vessel is sinking deeper
into the atmosphere.

Unless we do something,
it'll be destroyed.

Better that than let it fall
into your hands.

I've got three very capable people
on your ship. Let them help.

If you tell them how to get the engines
running, they can fly it out of there.

And fly it where? Back to your world
to steal our secrets?

No.

When our birds-of-prey arrive,
your ship will be destroyed.

Remind me to stop
trying to help people.

I found these schematics
in the Vulcan database.

It's a Raptor-class scout vessel.

How long will it last down there?

Its hull's at least twice as thick
as ours,

reinforced with some kind of
coherent molecular alloy.

Yeah, it's a tough little ship, but it can't
hold up under that pressure forever.

What if we use duratanium braces
to reinforce a shuttlepod?

It won't look pretty,

but it might hold up long enough
for us to get our people out.

Our only other option is
for T'Pol and Malcolm

to fix a broken-down Klingon ship
and fly it out themselves.

I don't think we're gonna get
any help from our guest in Sickbay.

Get started on those braces.

Keep an eye out for any
Klingon ships coming this way.

Aye, sir.

The one time we need our
chief engineer...

...is the one time
we leave him behind.

Come look at this.

Class planet.

We destroyed their ship,

but we've sustained damage
in our port fusion injector.

We've descended into the outer
atmosphere of a Q'tahL-class planet

to make repairs in case there are
other Xarantine ships in the area.

My crew is falling ill, and I have been
unable to determine why.

If we had died when
the Xarantine attacked,

our honour would be secure.

But to fall victim to some disease,

to be crushed into nothing in the
depths of this miserable planet...

Sounds like we need to find
the port fusion injector.

Wait, I saw that somewhere.

Here. One deck below us.

It's in the "Reactor Pit."

Reactor Pit?
Could that be Engineering?

Could be.

- This one?
- No.

That says something about
plasma induction.

Here it is.

"Port fusion injector."

I think I might have made a tactical
error dealing with the Klingon woman.

I asked her for help.

She could see that
as a sign of weakness.

You been boning up on your
Klingon psychology?

We've run into them three times.

Every time they've wanted
to destroy us.

I'd love to figure out why.

Well, maybe the best thing is
just to steer clear of them.

That might not be so easy.
And we could use their help right now.

If we could re-establish a com signal
with T'Pol and the others,

the Klingon woman could probably
talk them through the repairs.

But she's got 1,000 generations
of instinct telling her not to trust me.

Maybe it's time you start
thinking like a Klingon.

- Are you okay?
- Yes.

I seem to be getting
a little light-headed.

Must be the heat.

You're dehydrated.
You need some water.

I saw a galley on the schematics.
Deck 4, Blue Sector.

I'll see what I can find.

You shouldn't go alone.

Watch yourselves.

It's called "gagh."

It's a Klingon delicacy,
but only when they're alive.

- They look like worms.
- They are worms.

Targs.

Klingons prefer their food
freshly slaughtered.

Are you all right?

I promised myself I wouldn't do this.

You're in a dangerous situation
in an alien environment.

Your anxiety is understandable.

- Don't you mean "for a human"?
- You can't deny your nature.

This may sound strange...

but I envy you sometimes.

I know, another pesky
human emotion.

But there are times I wish I could
just ignore my feelings.

Bury them, the way Vulcans do.

Take my hand.

Excuse me?

My hand.

Close your eyes.

Think of yourself
on a turbulent ocean.

You have the power
to control the waves.

Whatever it is you're trying to do,
it's not working.

Focus.

The waves are subsiding.

The water is growing still.

You're in control.

That was amazing.

When we return to the ship,

I'll teach you how to do it
on your own.

Thanks.

Lieutenant Reed, report.

The hull pressure's
approaching critical.

This ship's about to be crushed.

It'll work.

If you're wrong,
you could destroy the ship.

Look, even with Hoshi's help,

it could take hours just to find
the fusion injector in here.

- We're out of time.
- I say we try the weapons.

How do you know you can
even access the tactical systems?

If there's one thing onboard this ship
I ought to be able to figure out,

it's the torpedoes.

I'd like to run one more structural
diagnostic before you launch.

- Beg your pardon?
- Success.

I decided to take your advice
about thinking like a Klingon.

The Vulcan database has
about 900 pages on them.

- Learn anything?
- Plenty.

They're driven by
a warrior mentality.

They tend to view anyone they meet
as a potential enemy.

That might explain why
our guest is so irritable.

They also have
a strong sense of duty.

"Death before dishonour."

Finish up that diagnostic.
I'll be in Sickbay.

- Gonna put your homework to use?
- Something like that.

Please relax.

If you strain against the straps,
you might hurt yourself.

What's that? Is that what you used
against my crew?

Dr Phlox has developed an antidote
to the neurotoxin in your system.

Is this how you plan
to gain my trust?

First poison me,
then miraculously cure me?

- Have you had a drink lately?
- What?

The bio-agent that affected you
and your crew was consumed.

Apparently, in alcohol.

Specifically, the toxin was bonded to
a molecule unique to Xarantine ale.

- There was a raid.
- Yes?

I can understand your not wanting
to talk about it,

if the raid went badly for you.

The Xarantines are no match for us.

We attacked their outpost
and took what we wanted.

And that included
some Xarantine ale?

Did your whole crew drink it?

The triumph belonged to all.

I'll take that as a yes.

It was that ale that infected you,
not us.

Think about it.

When did your crew start
getting sick?

Was it right after the raid?

After you celebrated your victory?

- This is a trick.
- Is it?

How do you feel?

Better or worse since the injection?

We can make enough of this for your
entire crew, if it's not too late.

What if this isn't a trick?

What if we're telling you the truth?

You'd be letting your crew die
a very dishonourable death

when you could have saved them.

Can you live with that?

One thousand metres.

Two thousand.

Three thousand.

No effect. We're still sinking.

The shock wave dissipated
before it reached us.

We'll need to detonate
one closer next time.

The ship's hull is under enough
pressure already.

- If you detonate a torpedo too close...
- And if I don't?

We need to generate
a large enough shock wave

to push us into a higher orbit.

To do that, the blast has to be big,
and it has to be close.

You heard the sub-commander.
Load two this time.

Sensor resolution's dropping off.

This was your plan?

To grope in the darkness and hope
to stumble across my ship?

That's how we found it the first time.

What was that?

- Weapons fire.
- Where?

Bearing 297 mark 261,
down about two kilometres.

Did it work?

We've moved up,
but only 200 metres.

That's all?

A compartment just collapsed.
Deck 3, Green Sector.

This whole damn ship's
coming apart.

- How many torpedoes do we have left?
- Six.

- Load two more.
- It won't be enough.

- Load the weapons.
- We tried. It didn't work.

- Ensign.
- She's right.

We'll never reach a safe altitude

climbing a few hundred metres
at a time.

The longer we stand around arguing,
the more ground we lose.

Fire them all.

What if we detonated
all the torpedoes at once?

We may gain enough altitude,
but I doubt we'd make it in one piece.

I don't know about you,
but I'm willing to take the chance.

We'll detonate at 800 metres.

I was thinking more like 500.

Look, I didn't come all this way
to get crushed in the atmosphere

of some anonymous gas giant.

Loading ports one through six.

Brace yourselves.

Torpedoes armed.

What is it?

Another explosion.

There's a shock wave this time.
Hang on.

- T'Pol.
- What have you been shooting at?

We used the shock waves to gain
some altitude, but it's only temporary.

We'll start sinking again

unless we come up with a way
to get this ship out of here.

I brought someone who should
be able to help do just that.

We're docking now.

I believe you've all met
Officer Bu'kaH.

What's the status of their engines?

The Klingon crew made most
of the necessary repairs

before they were overcome.

But the port fusion injector
is still damaged.

I will tend to my own ship.

I didn't bring you down here just so
you could die with your shipmates.

My crew risked their lives
to get this ship out of danger.

I don't intend to leave
until the job is finished.

Sir, there are two ships
approaching at high warp.

I think they're Klingon.

How long till they get here?

Sixteen minutes.

We're being hailed.
It's the captain.

On screen.

This is Klingon Raptor Somraw
hailing Enterprise.

Request permission to disembark
four passengers.

Well, I don't see why not.

- I kept your seat warm for you.
- Thanks.

Get ready to break orbit, Travis.

I think we've had
about enough of this place.

Aye, captain.

It's the Raptor, sir.
They're hailing us.

- Calling to say thanks?
- I doubt it.

Put it through.

- What can I do for you?
- Prepare to surrender your vessel.

Maybe your engineer
neglected to tell you but

we just saved you
and your crew.

You violated our ship,
accessed our weapons.

It was either that or stand by
and watch you get crushed.

- Disruptors.
- They're charging weapons.

You wouldn't last ten seconds
in a battle with us.

You've got multiple hull breaches.
Your shields are down.

And from what I'm told,
you're fresh out of torpedoes.

If I were you, I'd take what little honour
I had left and go home.

Fire one shot, and I'll blast you
right back to where we found you.

They're moving off.

Get us out of here
before their friends show up.

- Is someone gonna get that?
- You're closer.

- T'Pol.
- This is Dr Phlox.

You'll be happy to know that you're
now free of any microbes or parasites.

Your captivity in Decon is over.

Are you sure, doctor?

Who knows what was living
on that ship?

What if we picked up something
your scans can't detect?

Well, I'm quite sure you didn't.
I've run every possible test.

Maybe you should run them again,
doctor.

I believe I'm developing
a slight...

headache.

Of course, if you insist.
I wouldn't want to miss anything.

Thank you, doctor.

That should buy us at least
another half an hour.

Oh, I could stay in here all day.

Went to a spa once in Mexico.

The most relaxing place
I've ever been.

But it doesn't compare to this.

Oh, it certainly feels nice
to be clean again.

It is pleasant.

Do you smell that?

- I don't smell anything.
- Exactly.