All language subtitles for Andromeda.S02E07.Una.Salus.Victus.720p.AMZN.WEB-DL.DDP2.0.H.264-ETHiCS

I am afraid, despite
all our best efforts,
the Makrite fever spread

to all of Rogina's
major cities.

If the medical supplies
do not get here quickly,

I'm afraid
all I can offer is prayer.

I hope to see you all soon.
Rev Bem out.

Let me guess.
That would be
the bad news, right?

Makrite fever
has a 95% mortality rate.

Which translates
into 31 million
dead on Rogina.

Yeah, that qualifies.

And all we have to do
to stop it is escort

an unarmed convoy
of Wayist relief ships
through Acheron.

Well, you know what
an expressway
that place is.

We go there,
we cut our transit
time in half.

Like it or not, passing
through Acheron
is our only chance

of getting to Rogina
before that epidemic
runs its course.

What's not to like?
It's not like Acheron

is chock-full
of old High Guard
missile batteries

operated by psychopathic
Drago-Kasov Nietzscheans--
Oh, wait! It is!

Uh, going through Acheron,
casualties on Rogina.

I vote for ninety-five
percent

casualties on Rogina.
Who's with me?

We should be fine,
so long as we stick
to schedule

and Dylan and Tyr
neutralize the Nietzschean
command center.

Sounds good, in theory.

But I want to be ready,
just in case.

Are we?

I'm on it. I'm on it.

Too slow.

Let's review the concept
of this operation.

You were supposed
to find me a prisoner,

not thin the Drago-Kasov
gene pool.

They were headed
straight for you

where I would have
shocked them unconscious
with my force lance.

But now, now,
neither of them

will provide us
with the radio codes we need.

We'll find other targets.

You trust me. I've done
this sort of thing before.

Well, then you are
the luckiest bastard

I've ever met.

You're still alive
in spite of leaving bodies

behind you
like a trail of breadcrumbs.

Luck hasn't a thing
to do with it.

Tyr, you screwed up!

All right, then.

You're the expert,
you tell me.

How do we get inside of that?

He is the last guardian
of a fallen civilization,

a hero from another time.

Faced with the universe
and chaos,

Dylan Hunt recruits
an unlikely crew

and sets out to re-unite
the galaxies.

On the starship, Andromeda,
hope lives again.

There's at least a full platoon
out there on patrol.

Maybe more.

Here's a thought.

Let's capture one of them,
get his security codes.

That way,
we'll know for sure

how many people
we're up against.

Oh, yeah, that's right.
We tried that.

Nietzscheans maintain
long periods of radio silence.

I don't need a security code
to tell you that.

But you're right.

This might have been easier

had we been able
to follow your plan.

Damn. That was
almost an apology.

It was nothing of the kind.

However,

I deciphered
their codes for you.

I knew there was a reason
I hadn't fired you.

So did I.

That's one slip down.

Three more to go
before we hit Acheron.

Ah, boss?

We've only got 22
relief ships reporting in.

That's one short.

The Satya Graha Crew,
63 volunteers.

Cargo, 12000 metric tons
of medical supplies.

Come on.
We're punchin' a clock, here.

The Satya Graha's navigational
interface wasn't up to spec.

It wouldn't surprise me
if she were halfway
to Tarn-Vedra.

Great. So they took
the wrong exit and we don't
have time to wait for them.

Well, what's the call, boss?
Do we stay or do we go?

Both.

We need those supplies
and three of our
best epidemiologists

are on that ship.
So, here's the deal.

You push on
while I take the Maru

and go looking for her.

And Harper, you have the comm.

I can't see them,

but sensors insist
there's a squad down there.

Then we've got two options.

One, a frontal assault.

And two?

Sprout wings,

make ourselves invisible

with a pocketful of pixie dust,
and fly inside.

I don't know
about the pixie dust part,

but flying... that's not bad.

It was a joke.

I'll go first.
You cover me,

then follow while I cover you.

My captain,
that's solid rock.

Yeah, I know.
Una Salus Victus.

Una...The one hope
of the doomed?

The unit motto of the Argosy
Special Operations Service.

"The one hope of the doomed
is not to hope for safety."

We'll see you
on the other side.

Pixie dust.

That was fun, huh?

Well I gotta admit,

making Rommie
obey my every whim

and laying waste
to the Drago-Kasov
sounds really great,

but... All by myself?

You'll do fine. All you have
to do is hold the fort

until I find the Satya Graha.

We'll catch up
at the next slip-point.

Now, remember, no wild parties
while I'm gone

and, uh,
have the lights out by ten.

I'm assuming you
know a way inside?

Voila.

It's a map of the mountain
and the fortress,

right down to the last chamber
and the last cavern,

courtesy of the Argosy
Corps of Engineers.

Welcome
to High Guard Station Acheron.

What used to be
High Guard Station Acheron.

If it's any consolation,
the Nietzschean alliance

lost fifty ships and three
mobile infantry divisions

taking this rock
from the Commonwealth.

Luckily,
it doesn't look like

they expected
the High Guard to come back.

Not an irrational assumption,

considering my people
destroyed them utterly.

Are you bragging
or complaining?

Observing.

This is the medical relief
ship, Satya Graha,

requesting immediate
assistance.

Satya Graha,
this is the Eureka Maru.

I'm on my way.
Now stop broadcasting
on an open channel.

This is Nietzschean country.

Maru out.

Hold tight little lamb.
Watch for wolves.

Uh, oh.

Damn! Nietzscheans.

Combat systems activated.

Momma always told me
there'd be days like this.

It looks like our best way
in is just around...

Ok, that's a problem.

Automated defense systems.

Large-bore gauss guns
with hyperspectral sensors

and fullerene plating.

The ECM generators in the weave
of our field uniforms
should mask us at range.

But if we get too close,
they'll detect us.

Yeah. One way
or another, we'll have
to neutralize them.

Find another route?

They may have missed
a tunnel or two.

Security Squad Two,
report position
and status. Over.

Security Squad Two,
be advised.

We are implementing
a Kessel-Krieg Alert status.

Command and Control Center out.

They know we're here.

We should fall back.

Formulate a contingency plan.

Here's my contingency plan.

We're going in.
Any questions?

Not now.

That was effective.

Oh, we got them right
where we want them.

The Eureka Maru,
proudly saving your ass
since AFC 291.

Satya Graha,
make best possible speed

to the nearest
slipstream transfer point.
I'll draw them off.

Enemy fighters
threatening relief ship.

Jerks. Trying to blow up
a relief ship

carrying nothing but monks
and medical supplies.

That is not very nice.

Enemy fighter eliminated.

And they're off.
Now, as for you losers...

Okay, backup plan.

No more Mr. Nice-Guy.
Come on!

Now that was effective.

I assume there
are several more of those

between here
and the command center?

Many more.

Letting me run
to slipstream, are you?

Yeah, you'd like that.

Let me lead you right back
to Andromeda and the convoy.

I don't think so.
Let's see.

Let's open
a nice slip portal.

Not a huge one, mind you,

just big enough
to blind your sensors

while I turn around
and kick your
bone-bladed behinds.

That's two down,
one to go.

You are a little smarty,
aren't you?

Didn't fall for any
of Auntie Beka's tricks.

Ok, that hurt,
but thanks for giving
me the excuse.

Warning: Main power plant
and life support systems
are off-line.

Relax. It's just
for a little while.

Just long enough
to lure them in

and deploy proximity-fuse
anti-ship fragmentation mines.

Set fuses
for five hundred kilometers.

Warning. Specified
proximity exceeds
safety margins.

Override safety protocols,
authorization code,

"Shut up and do
what I tell you!"

Authorization accepted.

Sheesh.

Hey!

All right, Mr. Harper,
let's see if you're
any good.

Harper's pretty good.

Are we through here?

Quite through.

Missile control is...
this way.

Try another sweep
with the active sensors.

I've been running
them continuously.
Still nothing.

Well then check
the long-range sensor
drones.

She's gotta be here
somewhere.

I'm sorry, Harper.
If the Maru were
in this system,

I'd have seen it by now.
And the longer we wait...

Yeah, I know.
Bad things will happen.

But if Beka's in trouble,
and I leave her behind...

I've known Beka
for nearly five years,
okay?

She's the only one
I know

still nuts enough
to put up with me
on a daily basis.

If those Nietzschean
bastards got her,

I don't know
what I'd do.

We don't know
that anything's
happened to her.

Yeah, and if we push on,
we may never find out.

Harper, you don't
have to justify your
decisions to me.

If you say wait,
we wait.

Ninety-five percent
casualties.

Thirty-one million dead.

All right, fine.
Uh, broadcast to the convoy

we're getting under way.

Best speed
to the next transit point.

Aye.

That was easy.

Trap.

Really?

Yeah.

Their mistake.

Estimated time
for engine repair, four hours.

Not good.
Not with that fighter
out there.

What about weapons?

Estimated time
for fire control
repair, four hours.

Great. Run, shoot, run,
shoot, run, shoot...

Who am I kidding? Run.

Here. Don't hold on
out too long.

Well. We might let
God sort them out,

but someone told
me he was dead.

That Nietzsche.
What a comedian.

Attention on deck!

That was pathetic!

Sir, the targets assaulted
through our ambush

and executed
a strategic withdrawal.

But the situation
is contained.

Good. Let's keep it
that way, shall we?

Comm unit.

Captain Hunt,

this is Fleet Marshal
Cuchulain Nez Pierce.

I see you noticed yourself
walking into my ambush.

Congratulations.

Still, I've been
setting up this little
surprise party for months,

and being as you're
all out of places
to run to,

I'd suggest you
surrender yourself now

and save everyone
a lot of grief.

But I like giving
people grief.

Incoming transmission.

Incoming?
Patch it through.

Well played,
Captain Valentine.

Strange.

For some reason,
I thought you'd
look different.

Maybe less like you?

Except for the obvious.

Squadron Leader
Pavarti Quechua
of the Drago-Kasov.

Female Nietzschean
fighter jock. This is new.

I called to see
if you might need a hand.

Those proximity mines
were nice, but it looks like
they hurt you pretty bad.

And you're offering
to help me?

Out of the goodness
of your heart?

Please, hear me out first.

I don't mean to be rude,
but you're in a cargo ship,

I'm in a Garuda-class fighter.

You don't stand a chance
against me in combat.

So, surrender.

My pride
has no quarrel with you.

I promise you'll be released
as soon as this mess
gets sorted out.

And I have your word
on that,
as a Nietzschean.

Point taken.

But I have no reason
to lie to you.

Except that your
ship looks every bit
as damaged as mine.

I have a counter-proposal.
You surrender to me.

Not likely.

I was hoping we
could resolve this
before things got nasty.

Things got "nasty"
when you tried

to blow an unarmed ship
out of the sky.

Well, then I guess we'll see
who's the better mechanic.

Good luck to you.

Honestly.

Honestly.

I agree, we need
to complete our task.

However...

I must admit,
I am a bit concerned

about how you plan
to get us off of Acheron
once we're done.

Yeah. Me too.

- Excuse me, Dylan.
- May I call you Dylan?

This guy's really
starting to bug me.

Ah, let me guess.
You don't want to respond

so we can't track
your signal. I respect that.

So, I'll just assume
the answer is yes.

Dylan, I've got
no problem with you.

All I need is Tyr Anasazi.

Hand him over to me,
and I'll let you go.

I might even be
willing to sit down

and talk about your
new Commonwealth.

But if you protect him,
I'll kill you.

I'll destroy the Andromeda

and I'll turn
that relief convoy
into a live fire exercise.

Then I'll let the plague
on Rogina run its course.

Thirty-one million lives
for one, Captain.

It's a pretty good deal,
I think.

I'm sure your first instinct
is to say "No".

You think the Kodiak
is your friend,

but don't forget,
he's a Nietzschean.

If you still believe
he's on your side,

ask him what happened
at Enga's Redoubt.

Cuchulain out.

Still no sign of Beka

and only one more
slip-jump to Acheron.

What if they got her,
Rommie?

Focus
on the mission, Harper.

If we're lucky,
we can be in and out
before the Dragons can respond.

Yeah, well I don't
feel very lucky.

In fact, I feel
like a big old can
of "unluck"

that's just about
to open up on someone.

Harper...

our mission is to escort
this convoy to Rogina,

not settle scores
with the Drago-Kasov.

Settle scores?

Listen to me, Rommie.

The Drago-Kasov
practically owned Earth

when I was growing up.
Them and other
Nietzscheans just like them.

And when you and Dylan
were having your little
300 year nap,

they were running around
doing one of two things,

making people's
lives miserable,

or making them
nonexistent.

Now, if we get to Acheron
and no one's there, Great!

But Beka is not here
right now,

and Beka's never late.

For all we know,
she could be dead
because of them.

So, if you don't mind,
I am gonna keep
my scorecard handy,

just in case.

We assault
through the garrison
on the north side.

They're strongest there,
but that may be
to our advantage.

If we can maintain
the element of surprise,
we'll--

I've got a better idea.

You're going to tell me
what you stole
from the Drago-Kasov

and it's gonna
be the truth

because, if you lie to me,
I'll blow your head off.

Once we were inside
the mausoleum, everything
broke our way.

Security fell for our
diversionary tactics and--

Ok, I get it.
It was a great plan.

Get to the part where
you turn my ship

into a huge
blinking target.

Drago Museveni's remains
are the one thing

that any Nietzschean
would die for.

The one thing we value
above our own lives,

Mine to protect,
the sacred trust
of the Kodiak.

And what better place
to keep them safe than
on board the Andromeda.

You stole the corpse
of Drago Museveni.

My people believe
that one day

the genetically reincarnated
progenitor will rise

and claim leadership
over all Nietzscheans.

His body is the only means
by which his identity
can be verified.

When the progenitor
appears,

I alone will be able
to offer him legitimacy

and unite the prides.

If the progenitor appears.

It has been
three thousand years

and you people
are still waiting for him.

In the meantime, Tyr,

you've brought the wrath
of the Drago-Kasov
down on my ship.

The situation can work
to your advantage.

What better shield than
body of Drago Museveni?

No Nietzschean
would dare attack you
for fear of harming it.

Ah, well go tell
that to the Dragons.

You're one hell
of a pitchman, Tyr.

But you didn't do
any of this to benefit me.

I never said I did.

I said that my actions
do benefit you.
There's a difference.

Would it kill you to give
me a straight answer?

You'd like a straight answer?

Very well, then, sir.
You give me one.

Explain why you've made
it your mission to restore
the Commonwealth.

A trillion hungry Magog
preparing to destroy

what's left of civilization.
I think that about covers it.

Ah, yes, well that's
a lovely excuse, sir.

I've used it myself.

But you've asked
for the truth,
and it is this.

You emerged
from three hundred
years in the void

to discover paradise
in ashes. Your home, gone.
Your family, dead.

And in the face
of this insanity,

you made the only
reasonable choice,

to reshape the universe
according to your will.

Now,

you tell me, Captain Hunt,

is that a lie?

If it is, then you should
make good on your promise
and kill me for it.

No?

Good.

We both know you were
never going to shoot me.

It's amazing.

It's been over a year,

and you don't know
me at all.

Okay, Beka, are we
leaking coolants?

Sniffers say yes,
pressure gauges say no.
Which is it, already?

Still there,
Captain Valentine?

What do you want?

Repair work is boring.
We're the only two
living beings in this system.

So you want to chit-chat
before you try to kill me?

As long as I live,
I will never understand
Nietzscheans.

Oh, come now.

If there's any human
out there

who could understand
the Nietzschean mindset,
it's you.

Just look at you
and your Captain Hunt

on your doomed
mission to restore
the Systems' Commonwealth.

You support it?

No, it's absolute lunacy.

But still, testing your will

against that of a hostile
universe in such
a grandiose fashion?

I admire that.

Where'd you go?

Uh, so what about you?

What's your story,
Squadron Leader Quechua?

I thought all
Nietzschean females

were supposed
to be homebodies.

Only those who can breed.

Oh. I thought Nietzscheans
killed their children

who were defective...
who had problems.

The Drago-Kasov
don't kill their children,

even the defective ones.

They let us become
combat pilots

so we can prove
the worthiness of our genes.

By succeeding
on the battlefield,

I can raise the status
of my brothers, my sisters,

and my entire
extended family.

Lucky you.

I don't think I was cut out
for the family life, anyway.

Staying at home
with two co-wives

and a dozen rug rats

while some wannabe
alpha postures and preens.

Shoot me now.

Can't.
Fire control's off-line.

Stage One repairs
completed.

You're not so bad
as far as kludges go.

I have to admit,
I like you. I really do.

Enough not to kill me?

Well, no.
But I promise to feel bad
about it afterwards.

Then why don't I do you
a favor by not giving
you the chance.

See you around.

Come on.

Damn it!

Emergency bypass
failed.

Critical reactor failure
in ten seconds.

nine, eight, seven,

six, five, four,

three, two...

Emergency shutdown successful.

Venting reaction byproducts.

So much for running.

I can see that from here.
Are you all right?

I'm fine.

But if you don't mind,

I'm gonna be a little busy
from now on.

Same here.
I've a lot of work to do.

Yeah.

Getting ready to blow me
out of the sky.

We've transited
into the Acheron system.

Let's hope Dylan and Tyr
are as cool as I think
they are.

Any sign of--

Wait. I'm detecting
a Nietzschean task force.

Four light minutes
away and closing.

Ten capitol ships,
forty fighters?

Oh, great.
Can I get fries with that?

An ambush.
They knew we
were coming.

The plague on Rogina.

The Drago-Kasov must've
released it to draw us
to Acheron.

And now that leaves us
staring down the barrel
of a loaded gun.

A very big freaking gun.

All right. Rommie,
how about those,

uh, deep space
missile batteries?

It's impossible
to be certain, but they
appear to be operational.

Right. Right.

I'm getting sick
of these Drago-Jerkoffs.

They want war,
let's give them war.

Trance,
report to Command.

On my way.

Harper...

Rommie, you heard me.

Let's put their lights out.
Battle stations.

And my mother likes to claim
dissent from Bodicea Kokuyu,

but everyone knows
what a huge liar she is.

She'd have you
believe she sprang

fully formed
from the head of Drago himself.

You Nietzscheans sure
do love your genealogy.

And what about you?

You must have some
great stories to tell
about your family.

Not really.

I read your intelligence file.

A dead drug-runner
for a father,

con artist brother...

It's a fascinating
catalog of criminality
and dysfunction.

It wasn't that bad.

No,

because you took
a rotten hand and you
managed to survive.

Admirable.
Whereas with me,

no matter how much
glory I achieve,

the most I can hope for
is not to disgrace my family

any more than I did
by being born.

Warning.
Incoming virus detected.

You know, I'd
have an easier time
bonding with you

if you would stop trying
to hide computer viruses
on your carrier waves.

Virus deleted.

The point was to disable you
so I won't have to open fire.

Please, Beka,
don't make me kill you.

Then how's
this as an idea?

You fix your ship,
I fix my ship,

we go our separate ways
and you declare me missing
and presumed dead.

And as soon as you
turn up alive,

that's another black mark
against my entire family
and our breeding status.

I can't do that to them.

And I can't surrender
to you.

Then I guess we both know
what happens next.

Communication terminated.

Fleet Marshal
Nez Pierce,

this is Captain Dylan Hunt.
Respond. Over.

Dylan? Go ahead.

I have that package
you requested.

You want him?
You can have him.

Harper, we can't keep
trading punches
with them all day.

So maneuver or something.

Uh, damn the torpedoes,
full speed ahead.

Slipstream events...
all over the place.

The convoy is transiting
into Acheron.

The Dragon task force
has enveloped us.
We're cut off from the convoy.

Nietzschean fighters
are closing in.

Rommie?

As I see it, Harper,
you have three options.

One, you can run
with the convoy

to the next slipstream
point and lose at least
ten of our ships.

Two, you can charge
the Dragons' position,

which will likely
kill us and most
of the attacking ships,

but could draw fire long enough
for the entire convoy
to get away.

Or, three, do nothing
but cover the convoy,

die, and probably lose
some of the relief ships
anyway.

But there
are no sure bets,

and the choice is yours.

My task force
has just engaged
the Andromeda Ascendant

in the outer solar system.

From all reports,
she's not acquitting
herself very well.

Andromeda's a big ship.

She can take care
of herself.

Ever seen a pack of wolves
take down a grisly bear,
Captain?

Oh, sure, the bear
can dish it out at first,

but the wolves attack
and attack and attack.

Sooner or later,
the bear loses.

My money's still
on the bear.

Call off your dogs
and we'll settle this.

You've mistaken me
for someone

in a weak bargaining
position, Captain.

Give me the Kodiak first.

Don't trust--

Quiet, Tyr!

You chose this.

I can't let my crew suffer
the consequences
of your mistakes.

If I were you,
Captain Hunt,

I'd pray that that ship
of yours never comes
to harm.

Because it's the only
thing in the universe

that can protect you
from me.

Hunt? Dylan!

A trick.

Caught with my pants down
by a kludge.

Magnificent.
Mobilize the platoon.

Tell them I want Anasazi

and I don't care
how many pieces

he's in as long as
one of them can talk!

And as for the kludge,
he's target-practice.

This isn't working.

The fighters are blocking
for those cruisers

and I can't
continue to soak up
this kind of damage.

What happened to

Miss,I fought 10000
Nietzscheans and lived
to tell about it?

That was different!
I had a trained crew,

a full weapons load,
I had no battle damage,
and--

Don't say it!
I know, Dylan was here.

Well, he isn't now.

Harper, the convoy.

Rommie, keep firing.
We have to take out
those cruisers.

No. We have to protect
those relief ships.

Use defensive missiles
to cover their transit.

And get killed?
No freaking way!

We can't protect squat
if we're dead, Rommie--

We're dead either way.
This is bigger than us,
Harper!

I am not losing to those
self-appointed superior
life form freaks!

Then listen to Rommie.

The Drago-Kasov only win
if they can stop the convoy.

If we can protect that convoy,
then the Drago-Kasov lose.

Even if they destroy us,
you'll have beaten them... You,

Harper, a pure,
unmodified human...

Kludge.

Well kludge this.

All right.

Switch to defensive missiles.
Cover that convoy.

Whatever it takes.

You look... taken aback.

You were supposed
to be outside,

drawing them away
from this position.

You were supposed
to send a coded pulse.

You didn't.
I assumed you were
dead and doubled back.

They're jamming
our comms.

So this is all just
a misunderstanding?

Exactly.

I'll buy that.
Shall we blow
this place up and leave?

First things first.

Nietzschean space-based
missile batteries
are powering up.

They'll be ready
to fire any second.

How are we doing, Rommie?

Defensive systems
are compromised
and slipstream is off-line.

We're not going to make it.

The convoy?

It's through.

Whoo Hoo! All right,
that means we still won,
you uber bastards!

All right, on my mark,
attack pattern

"Last Act
of Freaking Defiance".

Harper, wait.

Holy crap!

Did we do that?
How did we do that?

Not us. The missile
batteries are targeting
the Nietzscheans.

Dylan.

Done.

Warning. Life support
controls are off-line.

If this doesn't work,
I won't be needing
any more oxygen.

It's time.

Yeah. I figured.

I've enjoyed talking
to you, Beka.

I won't insult you by asking
for your surrender.

If you want,
I can relay any
last messages you have

for your friends or family.

Is there
anything that you'd
like to say to them?

Yes.

I'm sorry.

Kludge! Kodiak!

I think he means us.

Hey. Here's how
we're going to play this.

Everybody walks away
and no one gets hurt.

I admire
your optimism, Captain,

but here's a more
likely scenario for you.

We kill you, my task force
neutralizes the Andromeda,

and the Drago-Kasov
take back our stolen property.

Huh.

I thought you
might say that.

That was, uh, one of your
orbital defense batteries

pounding this position
with a one-kilo missile

at point-nine C.

That's 20 megatons
right on top of our heads.

See, I figure this mountain
can take five, maybe six,
solid shots before

the battery turns
it into a gravel pit, huh.

You'll kill us all,
yourself included.
You're bluffing.

Uh, yeah.

That's two.

And that would be three.

You're insane.

Hmm.

And you're beaten,
Fleet Marshal.

Cease fire and I'll
call off the attack
on your ship.

I think it should
be you first.

That's, uh, four.

I'm kinda curious what
five's gonna feel like.
How about you, huh?

Fine! You win.

Task force,

stand down and withdraw
to rally point Omega.

Understand, Captain.

This victory isn't free.

Until now, all I
cared about were Tyr

and what he stole from us.

Now I care very much
about you.

Well, you see,
that's what the universe

needs more of,
people caring
for each other.

Have a nice trip out.

Glad to see you, boss.
I was worried about you.

Yeah. So was I.

You want to talk
about it?

Not really.

You want me
to leave?

No. No. Stay.

Trance reports
no major incidents
at the treatment centers, yet.

The operation is young.

Captain Hunt.

Your ship is no longer
accepting my access codes

to storage area fifteen.

Imagine that.

Rommie, a moment please.

You accused me
of attempting to reshape

the universe
according to my will.

Fine.

Consider this part
of the reshaping process.

An interesting
euphemism for theft.

The progenitor's remains
are my property.

Wrong!

Everything on this ship
belongs to me. Period.

I don't belong to you!

You've always been
welcome to leave, Tyr.

But the remains stay here,
under my protection.

As long as my property
is safe,

I'm content to leave
it where it is for now.

But you hear me.

Someday I'll want
to retrieve it.

And when "someday"
comes around,
I might even let you.

It all depends.

On?

The shape
of the universe.

I am not pleased, Captain.

Didn't expect you to be.

Something else
on your mind?

You called down fire
on your own position,

an act
of unmitigated insanity.

Now,

your adversary
knows just how far you
are willing and able to go.

As a result,
you've rendered yourself...

vulnerable.

Una Salus Victus, Tyr.

It's not about
being invulnerable.

It's about being ready

for anything.