All language subtitles for Star Trek - Voyager - S05E13 - Gravity.en

The Kol-Ut-Shan...

a cornerstone of our beliefs.

Infinite diversity
in infinite combinations.

I know all about
Vulcan philosophies.

Why have you come here?

I was sent against my will.

Then I suggest you leave.

I'm not a prisoner?

Only of your emotions

or so I have been told.

My emotions free me.

I see.

It's regrettable that I won't
be able to teach you.

Where should I go?

Are you seeking my counsel?

I... can't return home.

My father has banished me.

Your school?

They revoked my seat.

Why?

Because I refuse
to deny myself passion,

the way you
and men like my father do.

You reject logic?

If I was meant
to deny feelings,

why was I born with them?

Where's the logic in that?

Hidden for you to find...

or in plain sight
for you to ignore.

You speak in riddles
because the truth frightens you.

You're right.

It does frighten me.

You are surprised

to hear a Vulcan master admit
to having emotions?

Yes.

Emotions can be
a powerful tool.

To deny their existence
is illogical,

but you must learn
to control them.

Why?

Do you wish to be taught?

I would question
everything you say.

You would not be
a worthy pupil otherwise.

Let us begin.

Sit down, Tuvok.

Tun beveg!

Uh, sorry?

Senn... nebah senn?

Either the universal
translator's off-line

or I hit my head
harder than I thought.

Ruck.

All right.

Take it easy.

All right, all right.

Take it easy.

Fitah!

This?

Listen, I really need this.

Fitah! Ud neetot!

Okay, okay.

First day in town
and I've already been mugged.

Ah.

I'm Commander Tuvok
of the Starship Voyager.

Tuvok.

Tuvok.

Yes.

And you?

Noss.

Noss.

We'll go to my vessel.

I see you've already been there.

Mayday, Mayday.

Paris to Voyager.
Respond.

Aw, come on.

Her name is Noss.

She was attacked
by two humanoid males.

You sure she didn't attack them?

They were attempting
to rob her.

Seems to be a local pastime.

She requires medical attention.

I'd love to help,
but somebody stole our medkits.

Food.

What's the status
of the shuttle?

Fractures throughout the hull,

environmental systems down,

impulse engines
are beyond repair.

Told you we should have
brought the Delta Flyer.

Communications appear
to be functional.

Won't do us any good.

Every time
I transmit a signal,

it gets bounced back
by the distortion field

that pulled us down here.

It looks like we fell into
some kind of gravity well.

As far as I can tell,

this planet is a part
of an entire solar system

that is stuck
in a pocket of subspace.

Fascinating.

Yeah.

Well, scientific
interest aside,

I don't see any
easy way out of here.

No doubt Voyager
has begun a rescue effort.

The Doctor?

His mobile emitter was
damaged during the crash.

With a little luck,
I might be able

to repair it and bring
him back on line.

Make it your top priority.

Gren, gren.

What is it?

13 humanoids approaching...

the same species
that attacked her.

Gather as many supplies
as you can carry.

We're leaving.

You really think it's smart
to abandon the shuttle?

Noss appears to have survived
here for some time.

It's logical to assume

she has access
to a more secure shelter.

Nemmok. Eilen.

Eilen.

Whatever you say.

Eid kahn.

Doesn't look like this bird's
going to fly, either.

Minimal power
and life-support,

but the ship is protected
by a force field.

That explains how
she's been able to survive here.

Anything resembling
an engine?

I'm detecting engine debris
two kilometers away.

It is of the same
configuration as this vessel.

Great.

We've got two unusable ships,
and the only way

Voyager is going
to detect our distress call

is if they crash-land
right on top of us.

Progress?

The optronic relays
took heavy damage.

I'm bypassing
the primary circuits.

Come on, Doc.

I know you're in there.

I'm guessing we hit a snag.

An accurate assumption.

Rev din ud?

Ud rev?

Tun sang.

Ton rev ud tim seid.

You speak her language?

A universal translator
was written into my program.

Ask her how long
she's been here,

if she knows a way

to get back through
that sinkhole.

Din yee ton ud lurka?

Pah din nefta menruk?

Lurka heen.

Zin ik lurka

ud ruck toftta.

Mah'ees bin ruck ayah.

What'd she say?

She said she's been here
14 seasons

and in that time, she's seen
many ships come down,

but she's never seen one
go back up again.

Come back,
you little bloodsucker.

I don't know what's worse--

catching them or eating them.

No poison.

Well, they may not
be poisonous,

but they give me the creeps.

Maybe I should have
left the hunting

to you and Tuvok.

Let me.

Looks delicious.

Shut down my program?

Why?

Our resources are
severely limited.

We may need your mobile emitter
as a source of power.

I'm a Doctor, not a battery.

Until we're rescued

or you're needed
for an emergency,

I must insist
that you remain off-line.

Make way for the mighty hunters.

If Mr. Paris' hunting ability
is any indication,

maybe we should
take him off-line.

Thanks for the vote
of confidence, Doc.

The hunt was good.

Impressive.

Voyager has 15 decks,

a crew of 152,

warp and impulse engines.

I want to see.

Someday, perhaps.

Tell me about you there.

I am the Chief Tactical Officer.

What else?

Can you be more specific?

Your duties, uh...

Where you sleep?

What you eat?

Music?

Friends?

Why is any of that relevant?

Because it is you.

When I first met her,
she wouldn't even look at me,

but she warmed up after,
oh... three years.

The longest flirtation
in Starfleet history.

No kidding.

She sounds... fascinating.

I just hope I see her again.

You must really...

bot yah jouton.

Love her very much.

Yeah.

More spiders?

Oh, no, thank you.

Three's my limit.

1 will assist you.

Well, I suppose it's time
I shut down my program.

Good night, Doc.

She likes you.

She has been alone
for many years.

She appreciates our company.

No. I mean...
she likes you.

What are you implying?

Oh, come on, Tuvok.

You may be cold,
but you're not blind.

Need I remind you
that I am married?

Your wife is
50,000 light-years away

in a different layer of space.

The chances of you ever
seeing her again

are practically nonexistent.

Excuse me.

What are you doing?

I'm recalibrating
the distress beacon.

Listen, um...

what I said in there
about your wife--

I'm sorry.

I didn't mean
to hurt your feelings.

I have no feelings
for you to hurt.

I think you do.

You work hard to bury them,

but they're there.

And even if they're not,

this is home now.

You might as well accept it
and try to find

as much happiness as you can.

Listen, you have a chance

to make a decent life
for yourself here.

There is still a possibility
that Voyager will rescue us.

You may see
Lieutenant Torres again.

If I didn't know you better,

I'd say you were trying
to cheer me up, Tuvok.

Is there a point
to your pessimism?

It's not pessimism.

It's practicality.

You of all people
should understand that.

Look, I've never
met your wife,

but if she's half
as logical as you are,

I bet you she'd tell
you the same thing.

Your attempt to play
matchmaker is misguided.

I am not experiencing
Pon farr.

What difference does it make?

You obviously care about Noss.

If you won't admit it to me,
at least admit it to yourself.

I respect her ability
to survive.

It's more than that.

I've seen the way
you look at her.

What way is that?

Like someone who wishes
he wasn't Vulcan.

I'm sorry I was born Vulcan.

B'Elak paar.

Self-pity.

Are you cataloging
my emotions?

What is the source
of your self-pity?

Isn't it obvious?

If I weren't Vulcan,
I wouldn't be here now,

going through
this pointless ritual.

You see only what
is in front of you.

You must learn
to see behind you.

Another riddle.

I have no eyes to see behind me.

You have the eyes of memory,

the knowledge
of why you are here

and why you have lost control.

Tell me your story.

My father's
already explained it.

I wish to hear it from you.

Her name is Jara.

Her father's
a Terrelian diplomat.

She's been granted
a seat at my school.

And you have developed

an emotional attraction
toward her.

Yes.

You love her.

Yes.

Does she love you?

No. She's...

Jara... doesn't return
my feelings.

What if I were to say
that I received a letter

from your father telling me
that Jara is in love

with one
of your fellow students?

That's a lie!

Who is it?

Jealousy?

I'll challenge him.

That would be illogical,

because I have received
no such letter.

You're trying to trick me.

No. I'm trying to help
you to understand.

Shon-ha'lock-- love--

is the most dangerous
emotion of all.

It produces
many other emotions--

jealousy, shame, rage, grief.

You must learn
to suppress them all.

Otherwise, they will
consume you.

I can sense emotions
building inside you

like a gathering storm.

If we begin now,
we may be able to stop them.

Captain's Log, supplemental.

It's been over an hour

since the shuttle
disappeared from sensors.

I'm not detecting any debris.

Maybe the shuttle was tractored
or transported somewhere.

Scan the region.

Look for plasma emissions
or EM displacements--

anything that might
indicate another ship.

Nothing out of the ordinary--

hydrogen, helium, space dust.

There has to be
something out there.

Shuttles don't just vanish
into thin air.

It's a gravimetric shear.

Source?

Unknown.

Red Alert.

Helm, full ahead.

We're caught in some kind
of subspace sinkhole.

It's pulling us in.

The gravimetric shear's
increasing.

Go to warp.

I can't establish
a stable field.

Then we need more power
to the impulse engines.

That won't be enough.

We've got to find a way to
counter the gravitational pull.

B'Elanna, vent

three million isodynes of plasma
from the nacelles.

Chakotay, reverse
shield polarity.

We're clear.

Move us away.

Stand down Red Alert.

Secure all stations.

I'd say we have
a pretty good idea

what happened to that shuttle.

The anomaly is approximately
600 meters in diameter.

It's out of phase
with normal space.

Even after recalibrating
the sensors,

it barely registers.

The distortion circumscribes
a subspace zone that includes

a type-G sun and three planets.

Any sign of the shuttle?

No.

I'd say it's time to break out
the multispatial probe.

Agreed.

What the hell is that?

A vessel approaching
off the port bow.

They've locked on
a tractor beam.

Captain to the Bridge.

I'm only going
to say this one more time.

Disengage
your tractor beam, sir.

You were in danger
of being pulled

into the distortion.

You should show
a little gratitude.

We appreciate your help,
but we didn't ask for...

Captain, this is Mr. Yost.

Supervisor Yost,
Renovation Team Nova.

Captain Janeway
of the Starship Voyager.

Until tomorrow,
I suggest you stay

at least two million kilometers
from the distortion.

What happens tomorrow?

The rift will be closed by then.

Some of our crew
are trapped inside.

I am sorry.

We have lost 11 ships
to the distortion

over the last year.

It must be sealed.

What about your people?

Even if there were survivors,
there's no way to rescue them.

The best we can do

is to prevent others
from being trapped.

We can't abandon our crew.

If you could delay
your mission...

My orders are to seal the rift
by this time tomorrow.

If you want to attempt a rescue
between now and then,

the risk is yours to take,
but I wouldn't advise it.

Launch the probe.

Aye, Captain.

Work with B'Elanna and Seven
to enhance the sensors.

Do whatever you can
to find Tom and Tuvok.

I'll be looking for a way

to counter
those gravitational forces.

Come in.

I've been brushing up

on sinkholes,
quantum singularities.

Any luck?

All the data leads me
to the same conclusion.

They're mono-directional
phenomena--

what goes in doesn't come out.

Well, if it's any consolation,

something's coming out
of that anomaly.

What is it?

Telemetry from our probe.

We've located
the shuttle's distress beacon

on a Class-D planet.

Vulcan, human, alien life signs.

At least we know they're alive.

Keep reading.

There's astronomical data here
covering a three-month period.

How is that possible?

There seems to be some sort
of temporal differential.

How big a differential?

It's difficult to say,

but every hour
that passes for us

could mean weeks, even months
for Tom and Tuvok.

Months trying to survive
in a Class-D environment?

And more than likely,
they've assumed

that we left them behind
long ago.

Ready for the bad news?

You're kidding.

The gravitational stress
is increasing.

Seven believes the sinkhole
is on the verge of collapse.

When it does, everything inside
will be crushed.

Noss!

Medical tricorder.

We were ambushed.

Give me 20 milligrams
of inaprovaline.

They got away with a pair of
resonator coils that we found.

Three fractured ribs,

subdural hematoma,
internal bleeding.

Will he live?

Vulcans are very resilient.

He'll be fine.

How long has it been
since I was last activated?

Almost two months.

Two months?!

So... what's new?

Oh, same old thing--

fighting off scavengers,
hunting spiders...

No word from Voyager?

They're probably 300 light-years
closer to home by now.

I think
I should remain on-line

until Mr. Tuvok
is fully recovered.

It's good to have you back, Doc.

Rest.

How long was I unconscious?

Too many hours.

Mr. Paris?

He'll be fine.

I was afraid.

It is good to see your eyes.

Don't.

I only want...
to show you how I feel.

You... you-you feel
nothing for me?

I told you,

I don't experience emotion.

I have developed an appreciation
and respect for you--

nothing more.

Nothing?

I am sorry.

I cannot return your affection.

You cannot

or you will not?

A minor distinction.

Logic!

I hate logic!

Your emotions will only
exacerbate the situation.

Shevrot kat!

Insulting me will not help.

Derot oraht!

We can use
the multispatial probe

as a transporter relay.

It'll take a little time

to reconfigure
the targeting scanners,

but, with a little luck,
it should work.

Any reason we can't
use the same relay

to send a com signal?

I don't see why not.

Good. Let them know
that help is on the way.

Captain to the Bridge.

They've started
ahead of schedule.

Hail them.

Yes?

It was my understanding

you wouldn't begin
for another six hours.

We're ready now.

Well, we're not.

We need at least
another two hours

to make a rescue attempt.

I'm sorry.

How long
until they seal the rift?

Approximately 30 minutes.

Then that's all we've got.

Tuvok?

Hey!

I am meditating, Mr. Paris.

I don't care.

I trust there is
an urgent reason

for your lack of courtesy.

You're damn right there is.

What did you say to her?

Our conversation was private.

Well, whatever you said,
she's talking about leaving,

going off by herself,

because it's too painful
to be around you.

She is under the influence
of unfettered emotions.

Well, maybe you're able
to "fetter" your emotions,

but the rest of us
don't have that luxury.

She is a living,
breathing woman,

who, for reasons that
I can't begin to fathom,

has fallen in love with you.

Now, if you're incapable
of returning her feelings,

at least show her
some compassion.

Try to let her down easy.

There is no easy way
to recover from infatuation.

Oh, really?

And what do you know
about infatuation?

More than you might imagine.

Enlighten me.

I have no intention
of continuing

this conversation any further.

Come on, Tuvok.

Come on!

It's just you, me and the rocks.

When I was a young man,
I experienced

an emotional attraction
toward a woman.

It nearly destroyed me.

Your wife?

No.

Her name was Jara,
a Terrelian female.

I would have violated

every tenet of Vulcan philosophy
simply to be near her.

She must have
really been something.

I lost all sense of who I was.

The emotional attraction
I felt for her

became a kind of... insanity.

Tuvok, everyone feels
a little insane

when they fall in love...

but it's worth the risk.

For you, perhaps,

but I am Vulcan.

My natural emotions
are erratic, volatile.

If I don't control them,
they will control me.

Whatever happened to Jara?

I chose to leave her.

I spent several
months in isolation,

studying with a Vulcan master.

I learned to suppress
my emotions.

Too bad.

Gravimetric distortions.

What's causing them?

Unknown.

No response to our hails,
Captain.

At this rate,
their anti-graviton beam

will seal the distortion
in approximately 29 minutes.

Transporter status?

I've completed
the reconfiguration,

but we're only going
to be able to relay

one transporter beam
through the probe.

We'll have to get Tom
and Tuvok

within a two-meter radius
of their distress beacon.

Harry?

I've opened a channel.

Voyager to away team.

What is it?

The distress beacon.

We're receiving a transmission.

Can you route it through
your com system?

If I'm right, this message

was sent almost nine hours ago
on a very slow carrier wave.

Can you speed it up?

I'll try.

Voy-a-ger... to... away team.

A transporter beam
with a radius of two meters

will activate
at the coordinates

of your distress beacon
in exactly 30 minutes.

"30 minutes"?

That would have been
over eight hours ago.

Shh. There's more.

Be advised we've detected
a temporal differential

between our two positions.

According to our calculations,
the differential ratio

is .4744 seconds per minute.

Repeat: Voyager to away team.

A transporter beam
with a radius of two meters...

According to that formula,
30 minutes would translate

to two days, 11 hours
and 47 seconds.

Well, we've waited this long.

Tom.

The force field is holding.

Not for long
if they keep pelting us

with these photon grenades.

How are we supposed
to hold them off

for two more days?

The rift will be sealed
in less than two minutes.

Move us into range.

Stand by for transport.

Yes, ma'am.

The force field is losing power.

Time?

We still have another
hour before transport.

Where are you going?

To repair the field generator.

1 will accompany you.

No. You stay.

Prepare for the attack.

You can't go alone.

Risking two lives...
would be illogical.

We're in transporter range.

Link up with the probe
and relay the signal.

Stand by.

I've got a lock on their beacon.

They're supposed to be ready
for transport in 32 seconds.

Let's hope
they don't stand us up.

Begin 20-second countdown
on my mark.

Now.

We've got less
than ten minutes to transport.

Where the hell is Noss?!

I'll find her.

15 seconds.

fourteen...

thirteen...

Tuvok...

I could not leave you behind.

Nine...

eight...

seven...

Now, Mr. Paris!

Hurry.

Four...

three...

two...

Initialize transport sequence.

Energize.

We've got them.

Welcome back.

Who...?

A friend.

Commander Tuvok,
Personal Log, Stardate 52438.9.

We are en route
to Noss' homeworld.

As I prepare to say good-bye,
I find myself experiencing

a certain discomfort.

Tuvok.

Weird day.

Problems?

I've spent the last two months

wondering if I'd ever
see B'Elanna again.

As far as she's concerned,
it's only been two days.

I guess I expected her
to have missed me, too.

Were it not
for the time differential,

I'm sure she would
have experienced

a deep sense of loss.

You know something?

I always thought

that beneath
that cold Vulcan exterior

lay a... even colder
Vulcan interior,

but now, I'm convinced
you're a hopeless romantic.

There is no need
to insult me, Mr. Paris.

Oh, here they are now.

I was just getting Noss' recipe
for sautéed spiders.

She told me
how much you enjoyed them.

Let's just say
it's an acquired taste.

Good-bye, Tom.

Thank you.

Come on, Neelix.

Oh. Of course.

Crewman.

I'm sorry.

For what?

I know how difficult
this was for you...

for us.

I just wish things
had been different.

As dol.

I understand.

Thank you.

Live long and prosper, Noss.

You, too.

Infinite diversity...

In infinite combinations.

Your training is now complete.

You have done well.

Thank you.

You are now prepared to return
to the world.

Grief, anger, fear
and especially love,

will never threaten you again.

I am... grateful.