All language subtitles for Андромеда.S01E06.1080p.AMZN.WEB-DL.DDP2.0.H.264_Subtitles01.ENG

Now you must let your instincts guide you.

Slipstream piloting isn't a skill,
it's an art.

You'll have to feel your
way to your destination.

I don't know. It seems kinda complicated.

Trance, I've seen you perform
surgery on species you never met.

I've seen you make food
out of dirt and spores.

Compared to that, this is easy.

Well, maybe for you.

But those are plants and people.

This isn't alive.
It's, like, switches and stuff. Uh-huh.

They're tools.
Ways to interact with the Slipstream.

And while the Slipstream may not be alive,

it feels like it is.

It changes. It shifts.

As pilot, all you have to do
is anticipate those shifts.

Hmm?

Well, if it's so easy,
why can't Andromeda do it herself?

Well, Andromeda may be sentient,

but she's still technically a machine,

and machines and Slipstream don't get along.

Be confident and decisive.

Remember this, if it helps you.

When an organic sentient makes
a choice about their course

in the Slipstream, most often,
they choose correctly.

Early Vedran physicists believed
it had to do with the interaction

of an organic observer with
collapsing probability waves.

Oh.

Well, that makes it all right, then.

Maybe we should do this some other time.

No!

Now, we've got six people on this crew.

One day, our survival may depend on Trance's

slip-piloting skills. She will learn.

Thirty six Ofuyuchi's a
quick Slipstream from here.

Are you sure about this?

Yes. Let's do it. Now.

Go with your instincts.

All right, then.

Transiting to Slipstream...

now!

I don't think I'm doing this right!

Confidence is paramount. Maintain focus.

Look out!

Is that supposed to happen?

I can't navigate through this, remember?

But I'm guessing no.

Don't fight the streams! It started it.

Uh, guys?

Oops!

We're back in normal space.
Assuming flight control.

Did I do all right?

Well, I'm just taking a stab at it,

but that doesn't look like 36 Ofuyuchi.

I can't get a fix on our
location because of the nebula,

but we're definitely not where we should be.

And that's the good news.
How can that possibly be good news?

When compared with the bad news,
which is that the Slipstream drive is broken.

Ship? My SPG lenses are completely fried.

I'll have to rebuild them and recalibrate.

Which means we're not going
anywhere any time soon.

What the hell are you
people doing to my ship?

I'm sorry! I'm very sorry!

Sorry!

The long night has come.

The Systems Commonwealth, the greatest
civilization in history, has fallen.

But now, one ship, one crew,
have vowed to drive back the night,

and rekindle the light of civilization.

On the starship Andromeda, hope lives again.

Trance?

Trance, I know you're in here.

You do? How?

Actually, I was bluffing.

I always fall for that one.

I always fall for everything.

That's your charm. Charm?

I got us lost, wrecked our engines,
and nearly killed us all.

It was an accident.

You think I'm stupid? What?

Uh, no.

No, not at all. I just think you're...

inexperienced. I'm a menace.

Did Beka ever tell you
the time where I tried

to fix the Eureka Maru's coffee maker,

and I shorted out the
artificial gravity generator?

I think she might have mentioned it, yes.

But she also told me that the AG
system would've blown out anyway.

And it might have cut out
while the ship was accelerating

and killed everyone aboard.

Well, she was just being nice.

Beka thinks that you're her good luck charm.

As for me, well, you're a gifted medic,

you keep the life-support
system in tip-top shape, and...

ever since you came on board, the hydroponics
gardens have been growing like crazy.

Those are plants. Plants are easy.

You water the ones you want,
you weed out the ones you don't.

Sometimes you fertilize a tree,
and sometimes you prune it.

Everything else, like machines and then time

and space, you know, like,
it's really complicated sometimes.

Yeah, I know what you mean.

I felt the same way when I
took Beginning Astrophysics.

You're kidding. Yes, I am.

Oh.

Don't worry. Once we repair the engines,

we will be as good as new.

Now who's driving?

Long-chain polymer webs.

Hey! Give the man a Kewpie Doll.

Trance dropped us in the
middle of a minefield.

After an unauthorized

flying lesson.

Note taken.

On the bright side,
I think I know where we are.

Milky Way galaxy, Orion Arm.

Witchhead Nebula.

Witchhead? As in "The Battle of Witchhead"?

I've spent the last few months trying
to catch up on 300 years of history.

Someone want to refresh my memory?

Allow me.

The Witchhead Nebula was the
site of the climactic battle

of the Nietzschean rebellion.

Nietzschean Tactical Offensive.

Whatever. The point is,

this is where the Systems'
Commonwealth made its last stand.

One hundred High Guard ships, the,
uh, broken remains of your team

commanded by Captain Teddy Roosevelt
on the flagship Thermopylae.

Captain Teddy Roosevelt?

Did you know him? Not personally, no.

Anyway, Roosevelt was up against

five thousand Nietzschean ships.

Closer to five hundred.

Who's telling this story? Me or you?

You. And that's precisely
what you're telling, isn't it?

Thank you.

The Nietzscheans were commanded
by Admiral Ho Chi Minh

of the Gunga Din Pride.

Now, the battle lasted
forty days and forty nights.

And by the time it all ended,
the entire nebula was flooded with fire.

Finally, it's down to two ships.

Roosevelt's Thermopylae
and Ho's Shining Path.

Only, Roosevelt was dying.

So, he takes the Thermopylae and
rams it straight into the Path

kamikaze-style, and boom!

Takes Ho down in one last
great act of defiance,

saving Earth.

I thought Earth was conquered by the Magog.

Well, metaphorically speaking.

Translation, please?

The Nietzscheans ambushed the
remnants of the High Guard fleet.

They had 500 ships.

The High Guard had less than a hundred.

Eventually, the Commonwealth
forces were completely destroyed.

Not, however,
before they inflicted heavy casualties

on the Nietzschean fleet,

particularly on the ships of
the ruling Drago-Kazov Pride,

consequently leaving them vulnerable.

In the aftermath, Pride Jaguar and
their allies launched a surprise attack.

The ensuing civil war shattered
the entire Nietzschean Alliance.

Which is why the Nietzscheans

didn't take over after the war.

All hope for a united
Nietzschean Empire died here.

The Battle of Witchhead was an
unmitigated disaster for both sides.

I like my version better.

The only virtue of my version
is that it's the truth.

As far as you know.

Meaning what, exactly?

There's every chance your version
is just as mythical as Harper's.

I'm not detecting any signs
a battle was fought here.

No wreckage, no spent warheads,

no blow-outs in the molecular cloud.

Just the usual assortment
of natural hazards.

We can analyze the nebula later.

Right now,
we need to get clear of all this chop.

Beka,

nice and slow if you please.

And we're clear.

Good job, Beka.

All ahead full.

Mr. Harper,

how are those repairs coming along?

Slowly, but surely.

You know how twitchy these
Slipstream drive-scan be.

They're a lot easier to
break than they are to fix.

My old engineer called it job security.

Smart woman. I've been reading her manuals.

Rommie? Checking.

According to the ship's registry,
that's the Renewed Valor.

That's Captain Yeshgar's ship.

They're hailing us.

On screen. Close on me.

I don't want them seeing Tyr
until we're sure what's going on.

On screen.

Dylan? Dylan, is that you?

Gar.

What are you doing here?

I could ask you the same question.

We thought the Andromeda was
destroyed at the Battle of Hephaistos.

I got away, barely.

Dylan,

you've been missing for thirteen months.

The entire duration of the war.

I...

There must have been some...

temporal distortion from
the black hole. I...

Well, you're back now,

and not a moment too soon.

What do you mean?

This is the end of the line, Dylan.

We've been fighting the Nietzscheans
for more than a year, and...

we have not been winning.

Admiral Stark has ordered
every remaining High Guard ship

to assemble here.

In two days,
we're heading straight for Fountainhead,

to take out the Nietzschean home world.

The Battle of Witchhead.

We're here?

We're going to be right in the middle of it.

Time travel.

Daddy always said,
"Never mess with time travel".

According to all the available evidence,

the Battle of Witchhead will take place in
this general area in less than two days.

So, the question is what,
if anything, do we do about it.

Buy Intershipping at 40.

Oh, corner the market on
independent courier ships.

What?

Harper, this is serious.

Well, so is this.

Come on, open your eyes, people.

We know how the next 300
years are gonna turn out!

Badly.

Well, yes, badly.

But, maybe not for us.

I mean,

in 30 years, there'll be a Voltarium strike

on Candislan,

or the shark-fur trade on Tsunami.

Hell, in less than a decade,
the Free Trade Association's gonna be formed,

we could sit on the board!

Or we can save the Commonwealth.

If we warn them about
the Nietzschean ambush,

it might shift the odds in their favor.

Then what?

We can prevent the Fall,
keep the Commonwealth intact.

The Commonwealth is already dead.

One ship, ten, or even a hundred,

won't change that.

Think, Dylan.

By now, the Vedran homeworld
is cut off from the Slipstream.

The Empress is dead.

Warlords and opportunists
are about their business

even as we speak, and in just a few months,

the Magog will begin their invasion.

True. Unfortunately,

my people will descend upon what's left

of the Commonwealth like vultures.

And the only ones who will
even be able to slow them down

will be the Nietzscheans.

Well, God bless the Nietzscheans.

Where would the Commonwealth
be without them?

Yes, well,

good, bad, or indifferent,

if you want to save lives,
you've got but one choice.

Help the Nietzscheans.

Like hell!

Will you let go of your
useless emotional bias

and look at this logically?

Right now, the Nietzscheans are organized,

unified, strong!

Aid them in this battle,

and perhaps we could shorten
the long night by a 100 years.

Two hundred. Perhaps prevent it altogether.

By helping the very people who created it.

The irony isn't lost upon me, either.

But you've said you want
to prevent war and chaos.

Now you've got your chance.

So beautiful,

and yet, so fragile.

It's a heavy burden

that Providence has laid upon you.
Providence can have it back!

We shouldn't even be here.

Are you certain of that?

This is all some kind of cosmic joke.

While I admit the Universe
does have a sense of humor,

I doubt very much this is a joke.

Think about it.

What are the odds that we should
arrive here in this place,

at this critical time in history?

Come on, Rev.

You think I'm supposed to be here?

I find it hard to believe something
like this would happen without purpose.

And I find it hard to believe that
we're supposed to help the Nietzscheans.

Even if it stops a Magog invasion of Earth?

Magog attacks were brutal,
yes, but your people

never stayed anywhere for long.
They came and went like locusts.

Yes,
leaving a trail of corpses in their wakes.

True.

But planets occupied by the
Nietzscheans suffered decades,

even centuries, of brutal oppression.

Purges,

slavery, genocide.

You're asking me

to choose the lesser of two evils.

And that's not a choice I care to make.

We're leaving?

As soon as the Slipstream drive is repaired.

We don't belong here.

You're wrong. We have an opportunity.
We should seize it.

A dangerous opportunity. Rommie,

a little basic temporal
mechanics for our friends.

Theory One.
Our timeline is continuous with this one.

In that case,
everything we do has already happened.

Nothing will change.

Theory Two. Multiple possible futures.

Everything we do could
have massive implications.

Make the wrong decision, and 300 years later,
we could prevent Tyr's birth

or Andromeda's rescue from the black hole.
Anything.

There's no way of telling which
of Rommie's two theories applies,

but we can't afford to take chances.

Well, you won't get any arguments from me.

All right. We leave.

Assuming we can repair this ship.

Harper Historical Document One point one.

How I Saved the Future.
The Autobiography of Seamus Zelazny Harper.

Now, for reasons of his own,

our captain, Dylan Hunt,
has decided not to interfere

in the Battle of the Witchhead Nebula.

Now, while I respect his decision,

I do not share in his
evaluation of the situation.

Therefore, I have decided to
take matters into my own hands.

After...

blinding Andromeda's internal sensors,

I have begun to modify key
systems of her power core.

These modifications, when complete,

will allow me to cause a single,

cataclysmic explosion in the nebula.

Note to sculptors.

Statues of me should look,
uh, I dunno, wise, concerned.

I suggest

posing me with a soldering
wand over my head like a sword.

Oh! I almost forgot.

For those of you who have
already done the math

and are thinking, "Well,
clearly this is a brilliant idea,

but in order to hit the Nietzschean fleet,

Harper will have to anticipate their exact
position several minutes in advance."

And you are correct.
That is where this comes in.

A complete history of the
Battle of the Witchhead,

courtesy of the Maru's database.

So, to summarize.

Uh... genius,

young,
somewhat good-looking engineer sets trap.

Nietzscheans arrive. Nietzscheans go boom!

And everybody lives happily ever after.

Harper out.

Our current theory is that the AG field

interacted with the black hole
during my slingshot approach.

Which would explain the time dilation.

I lost a year.
But to me it felt like five seconds.

We missed you.

You and the Andromeda both.

Did any of my crew make
it through the evacuation?

Most of them.

They say you drew off the Nietzscheans,

bought them enough time
to make it to safety.

I'm glad.

Ordering everyone to abandon ship, it was...

one of the hardest things I've ever done.

What about Sarah? Is she okay?

Last I heard,
she was attempting to mount a rescue mission.

But resources are stretched pretty thin.

Guess it's a good thing you didn't need it.

Yeah. Yeah, lucky me.

Dylan,

do we have to do this?

Do what?

I recognize the eyes-only
shuffle when I see it.

You think I'm holding something back?

You always were a stickler
for that kind of thing.

Hell, it's been years,
and you still haven't told me

how you got that stomach wound.

It's, uh,

it's classified.

You'll tell me the truth when
you think I need to hear it.

Until then,

in Dylan Hunt we trust.

What a mess.

I'd take that personally if it weren't true.

On the bright side,
with all the pounding you've been through

in the last few weeks,
it's a wonder you're working at all.

And here I was,
starting to feel proud of the way

my systems were functioning.

For the first time since you
rescued me from the black hole,

I'm almost fully combat-ready.

I'm happy for you.

I'm not.

I admit I don't have many fighters,

but I don't have the crew to fly them,
anyway.

But everything else,

point defense system,
offensive missiles, sensor drones.

They're all in perfect shape!

I can make a difference out there,
but instead...

Dylan wants you to run.

I've checked the Maru's historical records.
I've seen the casualty lists.

The Vanguard,

the Continuation of Politics,

the Salient Debate,

the Fires of Orion.

A lot of good ships...

and good people are going to die tomorrow,
and he wants me

to stand aside and let it happen.

He's the captain.

I know.

But I'm a warship,

and I don't like walking away from a fight.

Hey, Harper, what's this?

Uh, beats me.

Isn't it one of your techno-widgets?

Hey, you're right.
I was, uh, wondering where I left that.

I found it next to one of those AP reactors.

Huh. Fancy that.

Yeah, I didn't know what it was doing there,
so I cross-referenced the way

it was wired with one of those...

schematic-thingies?

Harnessing gravity fields for
anti-proton catalyzed fusion.

I don't suppose I could convince you
it's just a harmless science experiment.

Oh, sure.

As long as your experiment includes

killing tens of thousands of Nietzscheans.

Hey! What do ya know, it does.

Bravo. You figured it out.
Now, give me that, so I can...

Harper, I can't do that. Trance,

this isn't a game. I need that.

Well,
Dylan said we're not supposed to interfere.

Dylan doesn't know what he's talkin' about.

All right, look.

I'm sorry, okay?

I grew up on Earth.

I lived through Nietzschean raids.

And Magog attacks, and famines, and plagues.

And you know what?
The Nietzscheans were the worst.

Because they're so strong?

No. Because when push comes to shove,
they're human.

And nobody beats us humans
for downright nastiness.

Let me lay a few ancient
Earth human words on you.

Crucifixion,

the electric chair, the guillotine.

Feel free to look them up.

I think I get the point.

No, you don't. The point is, sure,
I could be changing the future,

but it doesn't matter what future I create,

because anything is better than
letting the Nietzscheans win.

But you can't take that chance,

because if you fire that off,

it could destroy the nebula
and kill everything in it.

The Nietzscheans,
the High Guard crew members,

and us.

That's a risk I'm willing to take.

I'm not.

Sensors, combat systems,
and environmental control are optimal.

Unfortunately, fixing the Slipstream
drive is proving to be difficult,

as usual. You know the old saying.

Slipstream. It's not the best
way to travel faster than light,

it's just the only way.

How much longer?

Three or four hours at the
earliest. Plenty of time.

Help! Help!

Help. Help! He's trying to kill me!

He's trying to kill me.

- Who's trying to kill you?
- Him! Him.

I can explain!

Rommie, can't we at least talk about this?

Ow!

Move!

You know, I can find my quarters on my own,
thank you.

I'm guarding you, Harper, not guiding you.
There's a difference.

Don't be like this!
I was only trying to stop the Nietzscheans

from conquering Earth.

If I tried to re-arrange
your internal organs,

tried to force you to violate your
most important moral imperatives,

how would you feel?

I'd say that actually that sounds kind
of fun. This isn't the time for humor.

Seamus Harper, you are confined
to quarters until further notice.

Feel free to rearrange the
furniture to your heart's content.

But I recommend against making
yourself invisible to me again.

I might forget you even existed,
and you'd starve to death.

Anything I can do to help?

Help? That's not a very Tyr thing to say.

Ah, well,

unpredictability's the mark of a
thoughtful soldier. What've you got?

Well, can you realign a Slipstream lens?

I can field strip a gauss
rifle blind and one-handed.

I imagine I can calibrate your lens.

All right. Down boy.

You know,

I can cook, too.

You'd be surprised at the kind of
skills you acquire as a mercenary.

You don't seem very upset about
Dylan's decision to leave.

Leaving increases our chances of survival.

Why should I object?

Done.

The Slipstream drive is back on-line.
We can leave whenever you're ready.

Have you checked my astrogational data?

It looks valid.

If you retrace Trance's route
and I reverse the stream polarity

at exactly the right moment,
we should end up back in our own time.

Theoretically.

Everything is theoretical until you try it.

Hmm. Some things are more
theoretical than others.

Shall I assemble the crew?

Not yet.

There's one last thing I need to do.

Another repair?

That's one way of putting it.

Time travel? I know. It's hard to believe.

The word you're looking for is impossible.

You said, when I was ready to
tell you the truth, I would.

Well, this is it.

I was expecting something
more cloak and dagger.

There is no cavalry. It's just me.

And you're leaving.

I don't belong here, Gar.

There's a lot more I need to tell you,
and I will, if you come with me.

You want me to abandon the fleet.

What's going to happen here in the next
few days, neither of us can change.

But if you come with me,
you can make a difference!

Your word. As an officer.

And a friend.

Tell me what to do.

The Renewed Valor has almost
reached the Slipstream portal.

What's our ETA?

Another ten minutes, at least.

I still can't do much more than 30 PSL.

I'm sorry. I'm... I'm really sorry.

I promise I will never do that again.

It all turned out fine.
You helped me save a friend

and you doubled the size of our fleet.
Not a bad day's work.

Luck. Don't knock it.

Everyone can use a little.

I'm detecting a swarm of new ships.

Multiple vectors. Bearing zero mark zero.
Range, three light minutes.

Slipstream portal...

on screen.

The Valor.

Too late. It was too late

when we saw them.
These images are already three minutes old.

And now?

Come about 180, maximum stealth mode.

What about your friend? My friend...

died over 300 years ago.

Take us deeper into the nebula.
Nice and smooth.

I don't want to attract attention.
Whatever you say.

Dylan, something is not right here.

Tyr, how many ships did you
say the Nietzscheans had?

The historical record reads five hundred.

I'm reading closer to fifteen-hundred.

Three times as many as
they're supposed to have.

That's right, keep moving.

No one here but us plasma clouds.

They won't find us.

They're too busy setting
up ambush locations,

getting ready for the slaughter.

Dylan,
I've finished sorting the Maru's records.

And?

I did locate 17 different accounts
of the Battle of Witchhead.

All of them are quite consistent.

The Nietzschean fleet was
comprised of 500 ships. No more.

Well,
then how do you explain those extra ships?

We must have changed history.

Something we did influenced the timeline.

Or something we will do.

Before the battle.

Which, according to my analysis,

is in less than four hours.

Harper's device.

A fusion catalyst.

If these records are right,

the only way we can preserve
history and prevent the rise

of a Nietzschean Empire,

and ensure that our
timeline remains intact...

is to destroy over a
thousand Nietzschean ships.

May I?

I'd like to be alone for a while,
if you don't mind.

I understand.

I, myself,
prefer solitude while doing mathematics.

How'd you know?

Oh, it wasn't difficult.

In fact,
I suspect I could guess the equation.

Let me see...

one thousand ships,

average crew size, one hundred.

Simple multiplication.

One hundred thousand people.

How can I even consider it?

Dylan, fate brought you to this battle.

Destiny demands your actions.

I know, this is not easy for you,

but perhaps...

you are merely a tool of Divine Will.

That's a nice excuse.

Humans have been using it
since the dawn of time.

"I had to kill my enemies.
It's what God wanted."

Just because humans use it as an
excuse does not negate the possibility.

What kind of divine plan requires the deaths

of tens of thousands of people?

Tiger, tiger burning bright

In the forests of the night,

What immortal hand or eye

Could frame thy fearful symmetry?

Humans have been asking this
question since the dawn of time.

My people don't bother.

We Magog...

know the Divine exists.

We know it created the stars...

and the planets,

the soft winds and the gentle rain.

We also know He created nightmares

because He created us.

You're saying it created this situation.

You ask me how this could be God's will.

My answer is this,

how can it not be?

The Divine lives in all places,

but most importantly,

the Divine...

lives here...

and here.

This is my mathematics.

I'll leave you to yours.

Override command denied.

Override command denied.

Override command denied.

Hi.

Let me save you some time.

Hello.

How are you?

I'm fine.

Now,

you have a nice day.

I will, thank you.

Goodbye.

This is one of those really
awkward situations, isn't it?

Where I walked in on
you at the wrong moment,

and I'm supposed to pretend
that nothing's really happening,

and you're supposed to pretend like it's
no big deal, and then when I turn to leave,

you kill me, right? If it is?

Well, then I think it's my duty as a friend

to explain to you why I think that
would be a really terrible mistake.

Please do.

Okay, well,

theoretically speaking,
you're here on the Maru

because you're debating whether or
not to go over to the Nietzscheans

and warn them that Dylan
might try to kill them.

But, you know,
I just thought of something right now.

It's kinda funny that you
weren't at all surprised

when the Nietzschean fleet
turned out to be so big.

You know, it was almost like...

you knew that there were many more ships

and that something was
going to happen to them.

Something like Harper's explosion?

So far,

you're only talking about me.

We were supposed to be talking about you.

Right. You're right.
So, um, you have two options here.

You can side with the Nietzscheans,
or you can stick with Dylan.

You can't do both.

And if you approach the
Nietzschean fleet in the Maru,

you're only going to draw fire.

Which means that you're weighing
a victory for your people

against your own personal survival.

Again,
we seem to be straying from the subject.

Okay. um, the point is,

your best plan for survival
is to keep your options open.

But if you kill me, you have committed
yourself to abandoning the Andromeda.

If what you're saying were true...

just for the sake of argument.

Yeah.

Then right now,

I'd still have no choice.

I would have to eliminate you and
take my chances with the Nietzscheans.

Why?

This is just a theoretical discussion.

Isn't it?

A game.

I take my games very seriously.

I don't.

In fact, when I leave here,
I'll probably forget

that the whole thing even happened.

What whole thing?

Exactly.

Bye!

The battle is less than two hours away.

Whatever you do,
you're going to have to decide soon.

Do you believe in fate?

The idea that the universe is a vast,
pre-programmed machine

does have a certain appeal.

Not for me.

I've always believed a
man makes his own fate.

That life is made up of a series of choices.

You do have a choice.

Do I?

Occam's Razor.

The simplest explanation
is usually the right one.

There are three times as many
enemy ships as there should be.

We have the means to destroy them.
What is the simplest explanation?

Let Harper out of his quarters.

Get him to deploy his fusion
catalyst. We are going in.

Aye, aye.

Well?

Well, it's really nice that you
finally decided to kill the bad guys

and everything, but, uh, it's too late.

How so?

Well, this isn't exactly a precise weapon,
okay?

It's more like a plasma
mine than a gauss rifle.

You see,
the idea was to rig it before they arrived,

when we could predict their exact location.
But now...

They're scattered all over the nebula.

Exactly.

Which means a catalyst is not gonna work.

Unless you can get them all to
politely line up to be incinerated.

I'll see what I can do.

What?

You get the catalyst working.
I'll handle the Nietzscheans.

Emerging from the molecular cloud.

Mr. Harper?

Finally!

Harper's plan, put into action!

What was that?

Uh, ready. Ladies?

Ready here.

You know, you don't have to do this.

I want to.

I'm the one who got us into this,
and I'm as responsible

for what's going to happen as anyone.

Where's Tyr? In his quarters.

Let's do this.

Rommie, route weapon control to my station.

Rev, turn on the active sensors.

That'll get their attention.

Battle stations.

Full power to the engines.

We've engaged multiple targets.

Light damage to each.
Enemy ships are moving to intercept.

Keep moving. Jab and weave.
Launch combat drones.

Well, if you're trying to stir up
a hornet's nest, you've done it.

And they're starting to sting.

Tyr.

Mr. Anasazi, can we help you?

My people have a legend about
the Battle of Witchhead.

They say that the Nietzschean
forces arrived here

with overwhelming numbers.

Their victory seemed assured.

But then, in the critical hour,

the Angel of Death appeared,

summoning forth the fires of hell.

The Nietzschean fleet was struck down,

crippled,

their glorious victory turned to ashes.

You knew all along?

I've never seen an Angel before.

Rommie, how long to ground zero?
Forty-five seconds.

Harper!

Initiate the fusion catalyst.

Harper saves the world,

take one.

The catalyst is ready.
Routing fire controls to command.

It's all yours, Dylan.

The Nietzschean ships are in position.

Dylan!

Dylan.

I have become Death,

Destroyer of Worlds.

I'm reading multiple explosions.

Two thirds of the Nietzschean
fleet were in the target zone.

One hundred thousand.

Brace for impact.

All systems functioning normally.

What's left of the Nietzschean
fleet is peeling off.

It's over.

Yeah, it's over.

We win.

We're approaching the Slipstream portal.

Take us in as soon as we're in range.

What's the status on the Nietzscheans?

Survivors are scattered
throughout the nebula.

When the High Guard arrives,

the Nietzscheans will be off-balance,

out of position.

You've succeeded.

Tell me again how this is all pre-destined.

Slipstream events! Multiple vectors.

The High Guard fleet. They're hailing us.

The Nietzscheans are moving to intercept.

Take us out of here.

Maintain radio silence.

Transiting into Slipstream in three,
two, one.

Good luck.

I'm reversing Slipstream polarity...

now!

Exiting Slipstream.

Rommie?

Star positions and galactic expansion

are consistent with CY 10087.

We're back where we started.

I wish there had been another way.

Guilt is a wasted emotion...

or so I keep telling myself.

You blame yourself for what happened?
I didn't say that.

But I could have sabotaged the Andromeda.

I could have killed us all and saved
one hundred thousand Nietzschean lives.

I didn't do it. No,

you didn't.

I let my own need for
survival outweigh the fate

of an entire people.

My people.

That's a very...

Nietzschean thing to do.

Yes, it is,

isn't it.

Maybe on some level,

you knew that what we did...

was somehow necessary and right.

Dylan,

do you really believe that?

I have to.

That's better.