All language subtitles for Star Trek - Voyager - S06E20 - Good Shepherd.en

Come in.

Seven of Nine's shipwide
efficiency analysis.

Did we get a passing grade?

Barely. She wants to present it
to the senior staff.

Put her

on the schedule.

We'll be passing

by a Class-T cluster

in the next couple of days--
gas giants,

radiogenic sources.

I'm not sure it's worth

altering course.

At the very least,

we should send the Delta Flyer
for a look,

and let's get a full range of
sensor scans as we get closer.

We'll go to a level-3
analysis of the cluster.

Tom, get the Flyer ready

and assemble an away team.

Harry, start continuous scans.

Kim to Seven of Nine.

Proceed, Ensign.

Any chance you can increase
radiogenic resolution

in the long-range sensors?

The Captain wants
to get a cleaner look

at that cluster
coming up off starboard.

Acknowledged.

Take these specifications
to Lieutenant Torres.

Right away.

Deck 11.

What's our Borg queen want now?

We need to route at least
another five terawatts

to the sensor array.

Deck 15.

Hello.

Sorry to interrupt.

I'm about to disprove

Schlezholt's theory
of multiple big bangs.

Of course, I had to demolish

Wang's second postulate
todoit.

Power transfer requisition.

You're standing in the way
of cosmological history.

The cosmos is
16 billion years old.

It can wait another few minutes.

Schlezholt would thank you
for the reprieve.

Captain's Log, Stardate 53753.2.

Long-range scans
of the T-cluster have indicated

a number
of tantalizing anomalies.

The away team should have
a field day.

Who knows?
I may even join them myself.

Billy...

Mm...

Billy, wake up.

What do you want?

I need help.

Good night.

Billy, don't you dare
go back to sleep.

What's the problem?

I'm in trouble.

Go to sleep.

Help me first.

With what?

This level-3 sensor analysis.

I've got four hours of subspace
infrared to interpret.

Long-range scans
on that cluster up ahead?

Yes.

It's too complicated

to do over the com.

Either we meet in the Mess Hall,
or we wait until tomorrow.

I don't want to get dressed,

and it can't wait
until tomorrow.

Your only options.

I've given operations
an efficiency rating of 76

out of a possible 100.

Not exactly flying colors.

The crewmen you assign

to the night shift
are frequently left

with little to do once the
ship's course has been

locked in.

The devil finds work
for idle hands.

Religious metaphors

are irrelevant.

Perhaps you should consider
assigning them additional tasks.

What's this I'm guilty of:
"failure to utilize expertise"?

Crewman Mortimer Harren.

He has five advanced degrees

in theoretical cosmology,

but you've assigned him
to the... Plasma Relay Room.

His talents could be put
to better use.

B'Elanna?

Believe me, I've tried.

When I give him
more responsibility,

he doesn't do the work.

Harren wants to be
down on Deck 15.

It gives him more
time to repostulate

the origins of the universe.

As you can see,

security is functioning
at near-perfect efficiency.

However, Commander,

if you arrange the phasers
in the weapons lockers

so that the smaller rifles
were in front, they could be

more easily removed
in the event of an emergency.

I'll look into it.

Crewman William Telfer.

Billy. He certainly
ruined my score.

He visits the Sick Bay
almost once a week

complaining of illness.

Invariably, you examine him
and find nothing wrong.

Mr. Telfer is a hypochondriac.

I'd treat him for it,

but he's afraid of medication.

Have you tried counseling?

He's afraid of that, too.

All l can do is scan him
and offer him reassurance.

Wasting your time
and medical resources.

What about Astrometrics?

Looks like you could use
some improvement

yourself, Seven.

You're correct, unfortunately.

Tal Celes,
Sensor Analyst, grade-3.

Her work must be
constantly double-checked.

She should be removed from
Astrometrics and reassigned

elsewhere-- perhaps
to Engineering.

Forget it. I've got my own
problems to fix, remember?

That'll be all, Seven.
Thank you.

Dismissed.

Captain?

They've never been
on an away mission.

Mortimer Harren...

William Telfer, Tal Celes--
none of them.

They get off the ship
whenever we have general leave.

I mean a working away mission.

Harren never volunteers,

Celes can't get past
the proficiency requirements,

and Telfer always seems
to get a note from his doctor.

Something's got to be done
about this.

What can we do?

There are always a few

who don't make it past
their first year on a starship.

Normally, they're reassigned.

But in our case, maybe we
should relieve them of duty

and let them pursue
their own interests.

It certainly wouldn't hurt
general efficiency.

They aren't drones, Chakotay.
We can't just deactivate them.

Is the Delta Flyer ready?

Flight-checked with provisions
for a 72-hour away mission.

What have you got in mind,
Captain?

Three people have slipped
through the cracks on my ship.

That makes it my problem.

The analytical aspects

of the subspace infrared
algorithm are fourfold.

Unfortunately, I have
a threefold brain.

You just have
to break it down.

Think of it
as four smaller algorithms.

Okay. But what's the sequence?

It's...

Zero-G Is Fun.

As you were.

Zeta particle derivation.
Gamma wave frequency.

lon distribution.
Flow rate of positrons.

Z.G.I.LF.-- Zero-G Is Fun.

That's how you remember
the sequence.

Thank you, Captain.

I'll try.
- Good...

because where we're headed,
you're going to need it.

I'll be briefing you
this afternoon

in Astrometrics.

We'll leave first thing
in the morning.

Deck 15.

Captain on the deck!

At ease.

Junction Room 16?

Over there, Captain.

Of course.

Crewman Mitchell,
how have you been?

Uh, never better, ma'am.

Yourself?

Not bad. Not bad at all.

Uh, to the left, ma'am.

Thank you.

Crewman Harren.

Captain Janeway... are you lost?

I was, for a minute.

I'll be briefing you
this afternoon.

Well, there's been a mistake.

Excuse me?

You have me assigned
to an away mission.

I have my duties here.
I'd prefer not to leave my post.

Ensign Culhane
will cover for you.

The preflight schedule
is all there.

If this is charity, Captain,
I don't want it.

I didn't ask you what you want.

I'm taking the Delta Flyer

on an astronomical
survey mission,

and your expertise is needed.

What do you know
about my expertise?

As much as I need to.

Well, then you might be
interested to know

that I'm about to disprove

Schlezholt's theory
of multiple big bangs.

Really?

Wang's second postulate has more
lives than a cat, doesn't it?

Once you think
you've eliminated it,

bam, it pops up again.

I'll give you a hand,
if you'd like,

when the away mission is over.

Once we reach the cluster,

we'll drop out of warp
and maintain

one-quarter impulse

on the sweep through
the protostars.

I'll be piloting
the Delta Flyer.

Celes, you're going

to run an ongoing
sensor analysis,

providing data for
your colleagues.

Mr. Harren, you'll be looking

at subspace particle decay

for anything new we might learn
about star formation.

And, Mr. Telfer,

your job will be to
look for signs of life,

a long shot in this environment.

But if it's out there,
I'm sure you'll find it.

You'll have the
rest of the evening

to familiarize yourselves
with the mission.

Excuse me, Captain.

If we find a planet,
we're not planning

on exploring the surface,
are we?

That's a stellar nursery.

Any planets will be gas giants.

They may have moons.

Don't worry.

We'll run a complete scan
for pathogens

before we set foot anywhere,

and the Delta Flyer
is fully equipped

to deal with
medical emergencies.

We'll be fine.

Shuttle Bay 1, 0600 hours.

Dismissed.

Celes is unreliable.

Her sensor analyses
will be full of errors.

You could be putting
your lives at risk.

Don't worry, Seven,
I'll check her work.

This mission could be
better served

with a more experienced crew.

No...

not this mission.

Ever hear the tale
of the Good Shepherd?

If even one sheep strayed
into the wilderness,

the shepherd left the
safety of the flock

and went after it.

So, you're intending
to rescue them?

In a manner of speaking.

Maybe all it will take will be

some personal attention
from their Captain,

maybe something more,

but I won't abandon
a member of this crew,

no matter what their problems
might be.

Poor guy...

rotting away down on Deck 15,

counting the years
till we get out

of this godforsaken Quadrant.

It's a shame he doesn't have

a superior officer who cares.

It's not my job

to make everybody
who works for me happy.

Some people just
don't want to fit in.

I'll bet you haven't
said two words to him.

Two words, exactly.

We collided in the corridor
during a Borg attack.

I said, "Excuse me."

Since we were at Red Alert

and about to be destroyed,

I think it was
very considerate of me.

Well, Mr. Considerate,

why don't you go over there

right now and offer
him some encouragement?

His first away mission.

I'm sure he could use it.

Brushing up
on the Delta Flyer specs?

I'm not a mechanic.

Oh.

Then, what are you doing?

Very interesting.

What do you find
most interesting about it?

Your creative use
of the minus sign.

I see you have
a, uh, appreciation

for multivariate analysis.

Maybe you missed
your calling.

It's a shame.

I imagine it gets tedious
up at the helm.

I enjoy the view.

Well?

I invited him over to watch
our television set tonight.

You don't mind, do you?

Celes, Celes...

Respond. Celes, respond.

You're not sick.

Yes, I am.

No, you're not.

Really...

I am.

We have to sleep.

I can't go on this mission.

Yes, you can.

No, I can't.

- Yes.
- No.

Bye.

Wait.

See?

It's nothing.

It's a fever.

Your temperature is
.2 degrees above normal.

That's right.

A typical deviation

easily prompted by
emotional stress.

Or a multiphasic prion.

You have not been infected
by a prion.

They attach themselves

to the mitochondrial walls,
and they just...

I've already scanned you.

You can barely see them.

They aren't there.

If they migrate
to my cell membranes

while I'm on the away mission,
they could rupture and I...

Crewman, I am not giving
you a medical excuse...

not this time.

Try to get some sleep.

You shouldn't even have
a medical tricorder.

Believe me...

you'll be so caught up in
the excitement of exploration,

there won't be any time
for worrying about infections,

mitochondrial
or otherwise.

There's nothing like
an away mission

to remind a person
of why we're out here.

I'm going
to one-quarter impulse.

Should I start
the sensor sweeps?

We don't want to miss anything.

Engine status?

Within parameters.

That wasn't us.

Anything on sensors?

.005 fluctuation in
the spatial continuum.

It looks like simple
background noise.

I agree.

Anybody for lunch?

Are you volunteering, William?

Yes, ma'am.

I'll help.

What would you like, Captain?

Mortimer?

Even my mother
didn't call me that.

Well, then, Mr. Harren,
are you hungry?

No.

Thank you.

I'll have the pasta soup.

It should be listed
under Neelix 651.

Maybe I'll try that, too.

I'm sure you'll like it.

I'm sure I will.

Thanks for the suggestion.

I'd better get back there.

Neelix 651, two servings.

Neelix 651, two servings.

What's wrong?

The Captain checks
every single thing I do.

Oh... that's
just standard procedure.

Then, why isn't it
standard procedure

for you or Harren?

Maybe she's giving you
special attention.

Yeah, because she
knows I need it.

I wish I could go
back to Voyager.

Me, too.

There's always the escape pods.

Can you imagine?

I understand you grew up
on Vico V.

No wonder you became
a cosmologist.

Wildest sky in
the Alpha Quadrant.

So they say.
I've never been there.

Do you really believe

that childhood environment
is more important

than genetically driven
behavior patterns?

Just making conversation.

Conversation filled
with unspoken assumptions,

which I don't agree with.

I'm a product of
my nucleic acids.

Where and how I was raised

are beside the point,

so if you're trying
to understand me better,

questions about my home planet
are irrelevant.

All right, then.

How's your 13th chromosome?

Missing a couple of base pairs
in gene 178?

I signed onto Voyager
because I needed a year

of hands-on experience.

It was a requirement for getting

into the Institute of Cosmology
on Orion I.

If we hadn't gotten lost
in the Delta Quadrant,

I'd be there right now.

Sorry to have delayed
your career plans,

but all of us have had
our lives interrupted.

That's the nature
of space exploration.

It's unpredictable.

Which is why I don't
like space exploration.

Stumbling from star to star
like a-a drunken insect

careening toward a light source

is not my idea
of a dignified existence.

Pure theory is all
that concerns me.

Well, I'm not trying
to change that.

I'm simply trying to get
every member of my crew working

to their full capacity.

That includes you, Mr. Harren.

You don't feel responsible,
Captain...

for having three misfits

aboard your ship?

Well, if there's
anything I can do

to help relieve your guilt...

please let me know.

I'll keep that in mind.

Maybe I will join my
colleagues for lunch.

All this exploration
has given me an appetite.

Computer, identify the source
of that spatial fluctuation.

Source unknown.

Red Alert!

Aft section, report!

Report!

Captain, are you all right?

We need to get
propulsion back on line

and figure out what hit us.

What's out there?

I don't know,

but whatever it was,
it tore a plating section

off the outer hull.

90 percent of our antimatter's
been neutralized.

The reaction's cold.

So much for warp drive.

I'm bringing
the impulse engines on line,

but they've been damaged.

We'll be able to do
one-eighth impulse, no more.

That should get us
to the rendezvous point

with Voyager in about ten years.

Think they'll wait for us?

Is the subspace

transmitter on line?

Voyager, this is
the Delta Flyer.

We've been hit
by an unknown phenomenon

and taken heavy damage.

We require
immediate assistance.

Repeat: we require
immediate assistance.

Transmit that continuously
on all subspace frequencies.

Anything on active scans?

Not yet.

It was a dark-matter
protocomet.

I read a paper
on that phenomenon once.

Written by me.

Well, enlighten us,
Mr. Harren.

I hypothesized
that a tertiary product

of stellar consolidation
would be

a comet-like assemblage
of dark matter.

It would be attracted
to any source of antimatter

and neutralize it
upon contact.

So, one of these things detected
the antimatter in our warp core?

The term "detected" suggests
a consciousness.

This is a mindless
astrophysical phenomenon,

nothing more.

We should eject
our remaining antimatter

or we could suffer
another impact.

I can't do that,

not on the basis
of an unproven hypothesis.

The forces involved

are nontrivial--
if we're hit again,

we could lose
our entire outer hull.

Eject the warp core,

and we lose any hope
of getting warp drive back.

I need more evidence,

and right now,
sensors aren't talking.

Maybe they are talking,

but somebody doesn't know
how to listen to them.

You're out of line, crewman.

This isn't the time
to be worried

about her feelings, Captain.

We're in trouble.

Captain, that hull plate--

it's less
than ten kilometers away.

Impact from a dark-matter body

might've left a quantum
signature in the alloys.

That's the evidence
we're looking for.

Do we have transporters?

Yes, I've locked on
to the plate.

Beam it directly
to the aft section.

Celes, you're with me.

Continue the repairs.

No sign of burns...

or plasma residue.

It seems to have been
sheared off.

Download this
into the main computer.

Captain, I'm sorry.

For what?

I thought
that spatial fluctuation

we ran into was
background noise.

Some noise.

I saw the same
sensor readings you did

and came
to the same conclusion.

You don't have to doubt
yourself all the time.

Yes, I do, and you should, too.

You're right to always be
looking over my shoulder.

We all make mistakes, even me.

Every day?

Every time you report for duty?

On Voyager, it doesn't matter,

because nothing I
do is that critical.

Seven doesn't trust me
with anything important.

The crew is protected
from my mistakes

by the people around me, but...

out here I could get us killed.

You went through
Starfleet training courses.

I had to cram for every exam.

At the Academy, I was infamous
for my all-nighters.

Every night?
Because that's what it took.

That's the only way
I made it through.

Not to mention
the sympathy votes.

The conflict on Bajor
worked in my favor.

The Federation was so eager

to have Bajorans in Starfleet

that my instructors gave me
the benefit of the doubt.

So did you, when you accepted

my application.

You showed evidence
of unconventional thinking.

I liked that.

Not everybody would've thought
to retrieve that hull plating.

Well, just don't trust me
with the analysis.

I guarantee I'll get it wrong.

Well, with that attitude,
I'm sure you will.

This has nothing to do
with attitude, Captain.

You and I are wired differently.

To you,
this is nothing but data.

To me, it... it's a monster
with-with fangs and claws.

In my nightmares,
I am chased by algorithms.

My brain just wasn't built
to understand this.

We can find you
another post on Voyager.

There isn't another post
on Voyager, not for me...

unless you need a waitress
in the Mess Hall.

You know...

there's more to duty
than the ability

to manipulate algorithms.

Everybody on Voyager has showed

a courage far beyond
what I could've expected.

So have you.

If we were still
in the Alpha Quadrant,

would that be enough
to keep me on board?

I can't answer that.

I don't deserve to be
on your ship, Captain.

And I'm not really a part
of Voyager.

I just live there.

Pressure's increasing.
The EPS relays are fused.

Cut the plasma flow.

Cut the plasma...!

I could've been killed.
What's wrong with you?

Everything.

If you want something
to fantasize about,

try imagining how it'll feel
if our hull is breached

and we die of vacuum exposure.

Our blood will vaporize,

and our cell membranes
will rupture.

Surely you know the symptoms
better than I do.

Let's not talk about
it, all right?

Nothing disagrees with me

more than having to put theories
into practical use,

but there's no choice,

so pay attention
to what we're doing here.

You can check yourself
into Sick Bay when we get back.

And you can go back to Deck 15.

That's right...

where I don't have
to rely on you

or your intellectually
deficient friend.

At least I have a friend.

Don't you ever get
lonely down there?

In the company
of my own thoughts?

Never.

I don't believe that.

Spend some time with us
when we get back.

You might enjoy yourself.

A hypothesis
that would require testing.

I'm a theoretician, remember?

Captain's Log, Delta Flyer,
Stardate 53764.3.

We've been running
on minimal power for six hours.

Still no response
to our distress call,

and no answers from
the computer on what hit us.

For now, it looks like
we're on our own.

Our scans of the hull fragment
were inconclusive.

We found
some displaced positrons

that could indicate
a dark-matter impact.

But could've been caused
by something else?

Proof enough.

Not enough for me.

Not enough to jettison
the remaining antimatter.

There's a gas giant

only a few hours
from our current position.

T-class, surrounded
by orbital rings,

including one that's radiogenic.

We could use those particles

to reinitialize
our warp reaction.

With ten percent of
our antimatter left,

we'd only be able
to make warp 2,

but it would be enough to
get us back on the road.

Set a course.

Another spatial fluctuation.

Can you localize it?

It's somewhere within
the distance

of 10,000 kilometers.

Another one, closer,
about 7,000 kilometers.

It's being drawn
toward our antimatter.

Eject the core.

Open a channel.
All hailing frequencies.

This is Captain Janeway of the
Federation Vessel Delta Flyer.

We are on a mission
of peaceful exploration.

Please identify yourself.

No response.

Of course not.
It's a natural phenomenon.

Captain, we only have
a few seconds.

I'm firing a photon torpedo.

There's enough antimatter
in the detonation chamber

to draw that protocomet,
if that's what it is.

The torpedo's away.

Distance: 1,000 kilometers.

1,500.

No spatial disruptions.

Find the source of that sound.

Oh, no.

That's not possible.

Where is he?

I can't locate
his bio-signature.

He's not out there.

He's not in space,
not in subspace.

It doesn't make sense.

Inside... me...

Activate the transporter.

Try to get a lock
on whatever's inside him.

Tricorder isn't
picking up anything.

But I can feel it.

I-I can't get a lock.

It's like something's there,
but it's not there.

Oh, it's there.

Unfortunately, I have to agree.

Obviously, whatever hit us
was no protocomet. I was wrong.

Maybe you weren't, not entirely.

Sensors can't scan it;

transporters
can't lock on to it.

Maybe this is some kind
of dark-matter life-form.

That's impossible.

Molecules that complex

would collapse
under their own weight.

They could never support life.

Might be time
to revise your theory.

Where did they take you?

I don't know.

It was dark.

God, I could feel breathing
all around me.

Did anyone try to communicate
with you?

I couldn't see.

I tried to say something,
but there wasn't enough air.

I tried to move,

but something was pressing
down on me.

The hypospray-- tetrovaline.
It'll put me out.

If I sedate you, it could
lower your immune response,

and you need to stay conscious.

Do you understand?

Billy...

if it wanted to kill you,
it would've done it by now.

It never would've
sent you back here.

Maybe it was trying
to scan you or something.

If it wanted
to get to know me better...

it should've just asked me out
for a drink.

Celes.

Keep an eye on him.

Harren.

I'm setting a course
for those rings.

Shunt as much power as you can
to the impulse engines.

We never should've
left Voyager.

I've got news for you, crewman.

Voyager isn't exactly
a safe haven.

We've been chased
across the Quadrant

by far worse
than whatever's out there--

the Vidiians,
Species 8472, the Borg--

but I guess if somebody's
hiding down on Deck 15,

they may not be aware of it.

I wasn't meant
to be an explorer.

And I wasn't meant
to guide a ship

across an unknown Quadrant.

Then we're both victims
of circumstance.

Oh, I've seen things
I've never imagined,

grown closer to people
than I ever thought possible.

I wouldn't call myself a victim,

and I wouldn't trade
the last six years for anything.

Then you've been deluded

by the inexhaustible
human capacity

to avoid the truth.

You're the one hiding, not me.

I've got you three more
percentage points of impulse.

I'll take it.

Setting a course.

Isn't there any part of you
that feels a bond

with the rest of us?

When we escape
from the Borg or discover

a new type of star,

don't you feel
some pride of accomplishment?

When you're in the Mess Hall,

alone at your table
in the corner,

don't you see
the friendships around you

and wish even for a microsecond
you were part of them?

You don't know me at all.

No, but I'd like to.

That was the whole point
of this mission.

But I guess it hasn't
worked out like I planned.

Incoming transmission.

Source?

It's a Starfleet frequency.

Must be Voyager.

...the Delta Flyer.
...phenomenon...

...hit by an...
...heavy damage.

Repeat: require,
require immediate...

immediate, immediate...
Flyer, Flyer, Flyer, Flyer...

Subspace echo.

Maybe not. There's a .005
deviation in the carrier wave.

That's the same degree
of spatial fluctuation

left by our pursuers.

They're sending
our distress signal back to us.

Modified. They might
be trying to communicate.

...Delta Flyer, Flyer, Flyer.

...hit by an unknown
phenomenon, unknown.

They're taunting us.

Not necessarily.

Try to adjust the universal
translator for...

Captain!

He went right through
the force field.

Billy, what are you doing?

It's activating
my motor neurons.

I can't make it stop.

I'm sorry, Captain.

You've got to stop it.

No.

It's okay, Billy, it's okay.

It's okay.

It's in here.

It's tapping into our systems.

Wait. It may be
trying to communicate.

It's into our
environmental controls.

We've got to stop it.

Hold your fire!

What the hell is wrong with you?

It was trying to Kill us.

- You don't know that.
- We were at risk.

I gave you a direct order.

What if you were wrong?

I could hear
its thoughts.

Explain.

When it left me...

I could hear
what it was thinking.

"Do not belong."

That's what it said:
"Do not belong."

We don't belong here.

Or it didn't belong
in the Delta Flyer.

Maybe that's why it was tapping
into the environmental controls.

It was trying to survive
in a place

it didn't belong.

That's speculation.

Based on direct observation.

You murdered an alien being
and destroyed

any chance we had
to make first contact.

We just lost
another section of hull.

How far are we
from the gas giant?

200,000 kilometers.

I'm taking the Flyer
into the radiogenic ring.

With any luck,
they won't follow.

We can't survive in there
for more than a few minutes.

That should be enough
to reinitialize the warp core.

Start continuous transport
of radiogenic particles

directly into
the reaction chamber.

When it's approaching
critical mass, let me know.

Watch for any sign of pursuit.

How are you doing?

I always had this alarm
in my head,

sort of an internal Red Alert.

It was like a warning system

that would tell me
I was sick or dying...

of something.

Mitochondrial prions,
food poisoning, a head cold.

It was always there.

And now it's not?

It's gone.

I don't understand.

Maybe I do.

When I was a girl,
I was afraid of the ocean.

I liked to swim, but,
uh, in a pool or a pond,

where I knew exactly
what was beneath me.

But in the open water,

with no way to know
what was down there...

it scared me to death.

It wasn't until my first
year at the Academy,

after I went through zero-G
training in the Coral Sea...

that I finally got over it.

I think you just came up
from your first deep dive.

They're in pursuit.

They're in pursuit.

Three minutes,
20 seconds to intercept.

We'll need twice that
to reinitialize warp reaction.

Get into the escape pods.

Captain.

Plot a course
away from the planet.

I'm going to fire
a phaser volley

and hopefully set off
a chain reaction

of the radiogenic particles.

It might be enough
to disable our friends.

You'll be disabled, too.

Not if I go to full thrusters

and keep in front
of the shock wave.

If I don't make it,

head for the L-Class moon
in the next system.

You could survive there
for weeks if you have to--

enough time for Voyager
to pick up your distress signal.

Now get moving.

No.

You'll have a better chance
if we're with you.

Go.

We might not have
contributed much

on Voyager, but what
we do here matters.

We're the crew here,

and the crew does not abandon
its captain.

All right, it's your choice.

Then I'll be going alone.

Good luck.

Charge phaser banks.

Stand by to divert
all power to thrusters.

Escape Pod 1 is occupied
and ready, Captain.

Launch Pod 1.

Escape pod away.

How close are our pursuers?

65 seconds to intercept.

Stand by to fire.

Captain, the escape pod
is altering course.

It's heading for the aliens.

Janeway to Harren.

What are you doing?

If they have to deal with me,

it should give you
a few more seconds to get away.

That's my theory, anyway.

Resume your escape course now.

It's too late for that.

You made a mistake,

Harren. Don't make another one.

I'm done hiding, Captain.

A few seconds of exposure
to real life...

maybe I'll understand
what I've been missing.

He closed the channel.

Get a transporter
lock on that pod.

I-I can't. We're out of range.

More power to the thrusters.

Celes.

We're still not close enough.

Thrusters at maximum.

Got him.

Fire.

Shock wave approaching.

Contact in four... three...

two... one.

More or less.

My crew...

Easy.

They're sleeping.

No serious injuries.

Everyone's all right...

though you gave us
a good scare for a while.

We received your distress call.

We found the Flyer
drifting above a gas giant.

You were all unconscious.

Any sign of...

another vessel or
some kind of entity?

No.

What happened?

The Good Shepherd went
after some lost sheep

and ran into a wolf.

Did she find them?

I think she did.