All language subtitles for Andromeda S03E18 - Deep

Tyr, command. Code black.

Multiple fighters,
two light minutes away and closing.

Protect that convoy. Prep defensive
missiles to cover the transit.

I'm detecting 13 battle cruisers
and 11 Geruda class fighters.

- Nietzscheans.
- Drago-Kazov.

Whoa! That's my dream.
That was my dream!

Back when we agreed

to escort this lousy Commonwealth
convoy deep into the DMZ,

we were ambushed
by Nietzscheans.

Hey! Dreamweaver.
Before you go all Trance on us,

this is not an ambush.

That's Nietzschean
on Nietzschean action.

The Dragons versus
the Who Cares Pride.

Their orphaned children
will care.

Tell that convoy
to go to slipstream now.

Boy, doesn't it
just warm the heart

to see how the Dragons
have bounced back

from their little
slave rebellion

to reach out
and touch the universe

with their charm and good will?

If their forces keep growing,

soon they'll be reaching out
and touching us.

They may have already started. Three
hostile ships vectoring away toward us.

On screen.

Mr. Anasazi,
would you like to join our party?

According to my sensor drones,

Drago-Kazov Geruda class fighter

is in pursuit of two other Geruda
class fighters from an unknown pride.

Whoa. The Drago just destroyed
that ship, obliterated it.

- What's going on?
- Well,

one of them is on
a collision course with us,

while the other keeps chasing.

Hail it.

- No response.
- Plot an intercept course.

Uh, boss, isn't that a little dangerous
for a good deed?

We're on the Andromeda,
Mr. Harper. I like our odds.

The Nietzschean fighter
is painting us.

And now he's firing.
Incoming missiles.

Engage PDLs.
Take him out.

What about the lost sheep?
Let him go?

No, let's bring him in.

I want answers.

That spike-haired
chip-head of yours

called me a rat.

Well, he's a charmer.

I guess he expected
a little more gratitude

for saving your life.

Yes.

Well, thanks for nothing.

You could save
my children's lives

and I'd still hate the kludge.

Even so,
I'd still save your children.

I'd leave you behind, though.

Are you Nietzschean?

Are you an idiot?

Or do you really
expect me to believe

that you don't know
the answer to that question?

Tell me why the Dragons
attacked you.

I'm sorry, I guess
you didn't hear me.

Tell me why the Dragons
attacked you.

They think we have
Deep Midnight's Voice.

You'll have to be
a little clearer than that.

It's an old Nietzschean slip-scout.

Nietzscheans
don't have slip-scouts.

Oh, we did before the fall.

A fleet of them.

And they mapped out every meter
of the slipstream,

from the local group
to the Virgo cluster,

and ten billion
transit points between.

Ridiculous.

You can't map slipstream.

Yet he who maps it, owns it.

The universe is a dangerous place,

but in our future, my crew
and I fight to make it safe.

I am Dylan Hunt, captain
of the Andromeda Ascendant,

and these are our adventures.

Technical crew to Deck 7.

Ah, what a great guy he is, huh?

He is what he is.

I have often heard a rumor,

among my people mostly.

This rumor of an early
Nietzschean project

to map the cosmos.

Prior to the Fall.

You couldn't have known.

But it is said that their nav-tech
was far superior

to even that of the High Guard.

A rumor.

Yeah, it's a 300-year-old rumor.

I mean, if it's true, we would have heard
about it by now.

Perhaps now we have
heard about it.

And that probe will
change everything.

If the Dragons found it,
they'd destroy the Sabra-Jaguar.

No, because if the Sabra-Jaguar

even thought that they
might have found it,

they would have long since
allied themselves

with their sworn Dragon enemy.

Then we'd better
find that probe,

or we're in
for one hell of a fight.

Ladies and gentlemen,
and Harper,

may I present
Deep Midnight's Voice.

Now this is necessarily theoretical,

as no one has ever actually seen
a slip-scout, nor the probe it carries,

except for the Nietzscheans
who designed it

and the pilots
who generated the maps.

And it chooses
the best sliproutes?

Well, Beka, as you know,
in the slipstream,

an AI's ability to guess
the correct route is fifty-fifty.

Your organic intuition raises
that ability to 99.977%,

but the navigational chart
recorded in the probe

takes guessing out of
the equation completely.

It makes you and I both right
100% of the time.

That is possibly the coolest
technology in the universe.

And possibly the most dangerous.

And they must have spent
years riding the rails,

recording every slip-point
into that probe.

It'd be easier to plot
a molecule in a whirlwind.

And still,
it's so simple and beautiful.

You sure
the Nietzscheans did this?

Yeah, I thought the Dragons fathered
bullies, and bandits, and people like Tyr.

Drago Museveni created a race
of loyal overachievers.

They stood among the Commonwealth's
greatest poets, artists,

mathematicians and architects.

That's why no one saw
their betrayal coming.

Smart.

- What's that?
- Removing your bone blades,

so that you can pass as human.

Bone blades or no bone blades,

it is immediately evident
that I have more of Drago's blood

in my smallest finger

than exists in all the line
of sorry specimens

that might have spawned
the likes of you.

I couldn't know that, friend.

I have yet to dissect
your smallest finger,

and the Dragons wiped out
my entire lineage.

I've been solo since...

since I shot my mentor's killer
in the face

and enjoyed his three wives.

You're a mercenary.

Now and then.

But this...

Oh, I've waited my entire life
for a score like this.

"For a score like this"?

Come now. It's all loot
when you work for the kludge.

Your entire Pride is destroyed,
only you get away.

You could've blown up
the smaller ships,

but we had to save you.

And then...

Well, then you tell us about
the Dragon's secret search

for Deep Midnight's Voice.

It's all too easy.

Must be your lucky day.

I don't believe in luck.

Oh, you're right.

I know more than I'm telling.

But then again,

that's why you won't kill me.

Try me.

I know you're not working alone.
Who sent you?

I really must
scare you, captain.

An independent Nietzschean.

That's enough, Tyr.

I said that's enough.

Tyr!

Sorry.

I was...

asserting my independence.

You're right.

I'm scared because you're such
an improvement

to the Nietzschean race.

Oh, is there really
such a difference

between my ancestors and me?

Yeah. They're dead.

Assert your independence.

If the finest minds
in the universe

have been searching 305 years
for Deep Midnight's Voice,

then locating it must be
extraordinarily difficult.

Yes, extraordinarily difficult.

Well, using regression analysis,

stochastic modeling,
and quantum theory...

I found the system
where it's probably located,

all in about seven hours,
33 minutes.

Huh, it's good to be smart.

Yeah, but I noticed she used
the word "probably."

Yes.

I concentrated my search
on remote systems

cut off from average
nav technology,

but still containing the necessary
variables to sustain life.

That reduced my subset
to 11,370,000 systems.

Additional co-variations
reduced it to "probably."

Works for me.

And a system that sustains life
is a very good "probably."

If the pilots ran into
engine problems,

they'd only dump out of slipstream
where they could support repairs.

It is good to be smart.

Not to mention hot.

Beka, take us to slipstream.

The threads are pretty thin.

No one's ridden them
in over 100 years, at least.

Now it's as well traveled as the main
expressway on Sinti. We're being followed.

- Nietzscheans?
- Not sure.

I can only read
energy signatures.

It could be Nietzscheans,
it could be anybody.

Yeah, I'm pretty sure it has something
to do with our friend in the brig.

Let's blow them up
with a missile barrage.

Harper, you are so spiteful.

What's our alternative? We wait for
whoever it is to fight us for the probe?

Rommie, jettison cargo
in bays five through eight.

What? No, no,
that's my junk collection!

And other things.

Well, you're welcome
to go after it.

Never mind.

Prepare for entry
into target system.

Welcome to the system so remote
the Perseids forgot to name it.

Yeah, what's in a name anyway?

Let's concentrate
on finding that probe.

Activate long-range sensors.

Do you think it's still floating
around out there?

Why not? Unless it crashed
into that gas giant.

Oh, it crashed, all right,
but not there.

Here. The signal's weak,

but I'm detecting a pre-fall signature
on that planet.

It must be from
the probe's transponder.

My God, it's beautiful.

Well, congratulations.

Besides the slip-scout pilots,

we are the first
to lay eyes on it.

That planet is
definitely inhabited,

although their technology
is quite primitive.

I'm detecting short and long range
radio transmissions,

Even general cocktail chatter.

I wonder if they still think
they're alone in the universe.

Well, if they do,
then they are...

very, very lucky.

All right, so this planet is inhabited.

I need a description
of the race.

You have quite a bit in common.
They're human.

Excuse me? How?

According to my archives,

it's a colony founded 10,000 years ago
by Perseids,

seeded with humans from Earth.

Good, then they would
know about us.

No, the Perseids lost contact
after a slipstream rupture.

The planet's been isolated
in a gravity knot ever since.

Then that crashed probe
would be quite a mystery to them.

Most likely.

Although I am detecting
historical references

to something they call
the alien myth.

The probe crashed in a remote
back country region

on an isolated shelf.

- They haven't discovered it yet.
- And they never will.

We'll go in, get it,
and get out.

This is a bad idea.

I thought Harper
programmed you for optimism.

I was thinking about the Commonwealth's
first contact mission

to Jespin-Dover.

Like I said, I thought Harper
programmed you for optimism?

One single miscommunication
sent that planet

into non-stop rioting and chaos,

until, of course, the High Guard
managed to subjugate them

with the threat
of total annihilation.

Oh, Rommie, Beka, Tyr,
and I will be more discreet

than to use words that translate
into "apocalypse."

Dylan, you just used
two words in a sentence

that should never
be put together.

- What's that?
- "Tyr" and "discreet."

Oh, you see? At least Harper programmed
you for a sense of humor.

- That was funny.
- It was good.

They still use
paper and plastics,

so thanks to an authentically
replicated lamination technique,

you're all officially
pledged citizens

of the obscure and politically isolated
country of North Sodzee,

not to be confused with Tyr Anasazi.

It says I'm a common farmer.

Yes, it does.

But remember, if you're discovered,
you're a tourist.

Yeah, yeah. Specifically,
an adventure tourist,

discovering the rugged outback
of a distant continent.

I have no need
for this cheap mask.

Well, I think you do,

especially dressed like that.

What good are all these papers
if we can't even speak their language?

Ah, to avoid that
nasty embarrassment,

I present to you
my modified invention

for simultaneous translations.

The emulator. Huh?

It's an unknown society.

What could the emulator
possibly emulate?

Well, we did a little
creative eavesdropping,

cross-referenced it with Rommie's
language data archives, and voila!

Consider it a friendly little tiny robot
sitting on your shoulder,

whispering sweet little
somethings into your ear.

You're good.

Hey.

All right, listen up.

This is not a first
contact mission.

We are covert, with an aim towards
minimal interface.

Anybody who blows their cover
may end up on this planet for good.

Understood?

Absolutely.

Let's go.

Their deep space network
only consists of 13 x-ray satellites.

The Maru's visual signature
is low enough,

you can land on the planet
undetected.

Good. We'll take the Maru down
under the cover of darkness.

Worst case, they'll think
we're a falling star.

I don't get it.

Uh, Rommie, a falling star
is really a meteorite,

burning up as it enters
the atmosphere...

No, no, that, I got.
What I don't get

is if they're such
an immature society,

why don't we simply
reprogram them?

Reprogram them?

Yes. Within minutes, I could update their
technology by at least a thousand years.

Yeah, I'm afraid that would be
a bit overwhelming.

It's a little hard to upgrade
their hearts or their minds.

Unfortunately, that takes time,

and the guidance
of an invisible hand.

Guidance? Dylan, you make
them sound like children.

Well, they are children.

For the most part.

And they have no idea
how dangerous the universe is.

Maybe it's the universe
that needs to be reprogrammed.

Until then, it would be better
to leave the Nietzschean behind.

Tyr will keep him
on a short leash.

Gaiton knows more
than he's telling us.

Exactly. He'll tell Tyr.

The probe's signal is 2.3 kilometers
north-northwest from here.

Air's wet.

Reminds me of a hot summer
night on Tarn Vedra.

I still find it highly
unwise of you, captain,

not to carry your weapon
in an unknown environment.

Like I said, no weapons.
We are going native.

As loathe as I am
to agree with him,

I'll have to concur.

It is highly imprudent
not to carry something.

Great. Now what?

Well, now we activate
our emulators and smile.

Hello? Is there someone there?

They're coming over here.

Find that probe.
We'll meet you back at the Maru.

We'll keep these guys occupied.

Oh, and its launch sequence
only responds to my DNA,

so you will meet us
back at the Maru.

Nobody gets hurt.

This is foolish. Let's just kill them
and be done with it.

Try it, and only one person
will die here.

Well, have fun
with your new friends, captain.

...and then she got dizzy,

so our friends went back to the base camp
to get, you know, some help,

so I'm just thinking
it's the humidity.

Maybe you could take
a look at her.

I'm afraid my expertise
is limited to the stars and planets.

I'm an astronomer,

but Dr. Semel
might be able to help.

You're a doctor?

Of astrophysics,

although I am familiar
with basic anatomy.

I'll bet you are.

Um, it all started
with a sharp pain right here.

Are you out here
for the meteorite event too?

- Huh?
- You know, the falling star?

Oh, the falling star.

Uh, no, we're not here
for the meteorites.

Well, I know you're not this far
into the back country

for the great jazz
and gourmet food.

Well, we are adventure tourists

from North Sodzee.

North Sodzee?

Yes.

I'm Tori Leighton.

I'm Cap...

Um, I'm Dylan Hunt.
Nice to meet you.

You met Henry.

We're from Belden.

Belden University.

Don't tell me you've never heard
of Belden University.

Sorry.

I keep telling you, we still don't know
enough about our own world.

Mm, there's so much
we could teach each other.

You know, our observatory's
over that hill.

Uh, we have water
and air conditioning.

That's not necessary.
Our friends are gonna...

If she stays out in this heat much longer,
she might dehydrate.

No, she'll be fine.

He is a doctor.

Oh, jeez.

It's 1.7 kilometers
through this brush.

Your Captain Hunt,

he must be a very great man
to command the Andromeda.

He's worthy,
deserving of respect.

Is that why you serve him?

I don't serve anyone.

I must have missed that when you obeyed
his order not to kill those humans.

You've missed
a great many things.

And no one in your country

has ever heard
of the alien myth?

Why chase a myth when
there's still so much to learn

about our own world?

Well... But look up there.

Isn't the best way
to learn about our world

understanding its place
in the universe?

I mean, we have no idea
whether we're alone

or part of something too remarkable
and vast to even imagine.

Maybe we are alone.

You know, we still haven't
proven that there's life out there.

I don't need a mathematician to tell me
that the universe is designed for life.

What?

It's nothing.
You remind me of someone.

And that's where Tori and I part company.

She's a hopeless romantic,
believing this myth

that we spring from aliens.

I rely on what's known.

That we're alone.

That we have each other.

That's my sense
of hopeless romance.

Mmm.

We're home.

Maybe first contact
isn't such a bad idea after all.

When it comes time to scoot out
from behind this gassy giant,

maybe I'll get a little
first contact of my own.

If that system weren't locked
in a slipstream knot,

that planet would be a sideshow
in a Nightsider theme casino.

Yeah, but if this system weren't
locked inside a slipstream knot,

it also wouldn't be
a Garden of Eden

with hot babes,
cool toys, and beer.

Then they're really,
really primitive.

Yep. Ignorance is bliss.

Detecting transit entry
three light hours away.

But not for long.

Say hello to Rigel 285.

Hello, Rigel 285.

What is it?

A star about the size
of the sun,

only no one's ever
laid eyes on it until me.

I knew there was something
I liked about your eyes.

Okay, maybe I had a little help

from the world's
most powerful telescope.

Well, keep looking
through your telescope.

Who knows what you'll find?

One day, our telescope may even
be able to prove the existence

of something we call
a black hole.

Mm-hmm.

It's just so damn hot,
I can't get a wink

of dead man's sleep tonight.

Good morning, Amory.

We ran into some tourists
from North Sodzee.

Dylan, this is Amory Sutton,

our resident government grouch.

Well, we all have
our purposes, dear.

And that ain't coffee.

In about two hours, he's gonna be
under his desk

sleeping like a baby.

Um...

I have to go see
how Beka is doing.

Excuse me.

I still think you need
physical therapy,

Under my supervision, of course.

Doctor, I'll be under
whatever you want.

Excuse me. I hope
I'm interrupting something.

Andromeda sent
a burst transmission.

The Nietzscheans
are in the system.

Damn. I was looking
forward to my therapy.

- All right. Let's go.
- We have another problem.

Tori saw my Bracer.

All right, so we lie,
or do a neural extraction.

I was thinking of something
a little more low-tech.

- You know, like the truth?
- Okay.

I just have to say goodbye
to my doctor.

Oh, jeez. Five minutes.

If you're truly your own man,

perhaps you'll entertain
a proposal,

that is, if you're courageous enough
to make some money

and defy the kludge.

I should snap your neck
and be done with you.

I am so very sick of you and every
Nietzschean like you,

sick of your rancid stink

of failure and inferiority,

sick of your souls
that have grown so stale.

It is only a mask
to hide a sweeter purpose.

Oh, truly?

And what is that purpose?

I'm a spy for the Drago-Kazov.

They sent me to find you,
and depending upon how I found you,

to give you their simple answer.

And their answer is?

Yes.

We travel faster
than the speed of light

on something
called a slipstream.

It's a series of gravity strings

connecting entire solar systems.

You could even say it
holds the universe together.

You don't believe me, do you?

Oh, no, that's my problem.

- I do believe you.
- And?

And I want you
to tell me everything.

I want you to tell me how a ship
the size of seven aircraft carriers

can shrink its mass to near zero
and ride these cosmic strings.

I want you to tell me about the races
and species and beings

that you've encountered
and call your friends.

I want you to tell my world

so that we can finally
really belong to the universe,

and people like Dr. Semel will realize

that I am not some hopeless
kook after all,

- because I am right.
- No. No. No.

You can't tell anyone, ever.

- I'm sorry.
- Tori, you don't know what's out there,

and I don't have seven lifetimes
to explain it to you,

but the future of your world
depends on your keeping this secret.

I've trusted you.

Now you have to trust me.

My parents
would've been so proud.

They will be proud.

They're real and they're here.

Yes, sir, I understand.

Containment by
any means necessary.

Yes, sir.

- What?
- Nothing.

Oh, come on.
You have to tell me.

Okay.
Uh, I just always thought

that aliens would be
two feet tall and green.

What?

Maybe I am.

This is what we call a handheld
compact field phone.

Now, if you feel dizzy or you
need me for any reason,

all you have to do
is press these seven buttons.

And if you're ever up
in North Sodzee, look me up.

Governmental intelligence.

Nobody's going anywhere.

I have a few
questions to ask you.

I'll see if I can answer them.

- Cuff him, please.
- You'd better back up.

What do you know?
I'm all better.

They won't get away, you know.

The Militia's already
after them,

and the other two.

- Dylan!
- What?

Dylan!

You'd better go
to your spaceplane.

They've got a lot of people
on the way.

They'll kill you
to keep this secret.

Why should this day
be any different?

We still have something else to find.
Come on, let's go.

"Spaceplane," huh?
That's cute.

Oh, to be all-powerful,

traveling slipstream
in total confidence,

no fear of disaster
or detection.

Remarkable.

Our people created this.

The detail.

The beauty.

It's science and art
and poetry unified.

Our people created this...

and yet I can't even
recognize myself.

But there you are.

Well, there you are,

reflected in the mind
of Drago Musevini.

How could I have
convinced myself?

How could I have let them
convince me

that he was just
some rich old man?

He was a poet,

a scholar,
a magnificent warrior.

He was a living god.

What happened to us?

Time happened to us.
Time changed the universe.

But, Gaiton,

if the ancestors could do that,

you and I,

we can change the universe again
if we will it.

Shall we bury these
warrior's remains?

Aye, brother.

We shall.

Over here, sir.

Gaiton!

How many Nietzschean vessels?

I can't tell.

I've got a faint sensor contact
at extreme range.

But at 75 PSL, they should've cleared
the gas giant by now.

Andromeda, are you sure
they're still in the system?

I haven't detected
any slipstream events.

What about long-range drones?

Searching.

Okay, all right, Where are they?

So much for not hurting anybody.

What could have caused
this much destruction?

Oh, I've got a pretty good idea.

Speaking of which,
still no word from Tyr.

He'd better be back at the Maru.

The Maru?

Our, uh, spaceplane.

It's the Andromeda.

It's confirmed, Nietzscheans,
headed to the planet.

Nietzscheans?

The bad guys.

They're after
the same thing we are.

So it looks like my parents are
gonna get to be proud of me after all.

I mean, when your
spaceplane arrives,

you're gonna need a local
to explain everything.

I'm assuming that this threat
could destroy our world,

and I'm also assuming
that you intend to protect us.

- If only I could.
- No, no, no.

You have to help us.

You are the only reason
those Nietzscheans are even here.

They're here 'cause of something
that crashed on your planet

over 300 years ago.

That's not our fault.

It's nobody's fault. It's just the way
the universe works.

And we have to die because
we happen to be in the way?

No, you have to fight to live

because of this stupid
freak accident.

You know, it's like a tornado,
a flood, a hurricane.

We would call that
an act of God.

But maybe...

Maybe you can change God's mind.

Tori, I'm not the angel
you think I am.

Tyr just sent a coded transmission.
They're at the Maru.

- We've got to go.
- Okay.

- I'm sorry.
- Dylan.

I have worn so many masks,

sometimes I think
I've forgotten my real face.

Perhaps this has reminded you.

You're right, Tyr.

It has.

And I believe it is too valuable

to belong to anyone
who isn't Nietzschean.

It belongs to Drago.

Go on.

There is a rumor

that geneticists
on Desideratum Drift

claim to have verified
the existence

of the genetic reincarnation
of Drago himself.

It meant so little to me

until today,

when I dared to dream.

Surely you've thought
the same thing?

That so long as we continue to fight
against each other,

we will go on being a barbaric,
stupid people.

I know you,

Tyr Anasazi,

out of Victoria by Barbarossa.

The Dragons had me befriend you

so that you would lead me
to your son, Tamerlane.

But I have discarded
my final mask,

the mask of their loyal spy.

Today, I... I have seen
my real face.

Both of our faces.

If we possess the map
inside that probe

and have your son at our side,

every Nietzschean, Dragon,
and Sabra-Jaguar

will rally behind us.

Together, we will
conquer the universe.

We will be living gods.

Yes, brother.

Yes.

This is Commonwealth-controlled territory.

The way I see it,
you have three options.

One, we destroy you
where you sit,

two, we become friends,

or three, you turn around and you
leave effective immediately.

What is it going to be?

No answer.

They could've at least asked us
to repeat the question.

Andromeda, load offensive
missiles, all tubes.

The Nietzschean cruiser is moving
toward a transit point.

Trance! Have I ever told you
you're my golden love goddess?

Only all the time.

Check that.
It's changing course.

It's heading back
toward the planet.

It must've detected the probe.

Your ship.

It's too remarkable for words.

Well, how about these words?

Uh, "bucket of bolts."

I just say that to bug her.

Stop calling her that.

Oops.

Speaking of calling,
I can't get a response from Tyr.

- Excuse me.
- You think he knows something we don't?

Well, we're about to find out.

Dylan, the Nietzschean cruisers
are closing in on your location.

Great. If we leave now,
we're toast.

We're not going anywhere,
not without Tyr and that probe.

We'll sit tight.
You do the same.

Sit tight?

Until when, Dylan?

Until those Nietzscheans start blowing
up our cities, demanding this probe

that nobody's even heard of?

She's right.

Dylan, we can't avoid
first contact.

Any minute now, that planet's radar
is gonna pick up the Andromeda.

Unless they can't.

Hit them all with
an electromagnetic pulse?

That's not a bad idea, but I thought I'd
try a little more subtle approach.

Trance, aim all exotic matter
pulsers at the sun.

Fire on my command.

The sun? Dylan,
what are you doing?

I'm just trying
to change God's mind.

Pulsers aimed.

Fire.

It sounds like power transponders
blowing. What's happening?

Don't worry. That'll be fine.

Subtle, huh?

You set off a solar flare.

I guess that wasn't
very subtle, was it?

The Nietzschean ship's
been destroyed.

Here's a plausible deniability.

If anyone ever asks,
the solar flare incinerated it.

I can live with that.

Satellites,
communication devices,

all knocked out.

Everyone on this planet's blind.

Well, everyone except you.

Here's your first contact.

Where's Gaiton?

He's gone native.

Andromeda.

Prep for retrieval.

Roger that.

- Now, remember...
- Right. This never happened.

What about the government guys?

Believe me, they wanna keep
this secret as much as we do.

Goodbye, Tori.

Take me with you.

No one will know,

and after everything I've seen,
I can't go back.

I have too many questions.

Yeah, but you have the answer
to the most important question.

Yes.

Dylan, when we first met,

you said I reminded you
of someone.

Was it a girlfriend
or another ambitious scientist?

Both.

Did you also teach her to put the
interests of the Commonwealth

ahead of her own career?

Speaking of career...

For you.

I'm not familiar
with this technology.

Get familiar.

You just invented it.

Now, that's what I call
first contact.

According to my analysis,
we aren't the first ones

to make contact with that probe.

A copy was made by someone else.

Of course.

Captain, according to reports,

the Drago-Kazov have already initiated
three first-contact missions

to establish bases
in case of war.

There's an old saying.

The universe is perfect.

Interfere with it at your peril.

I think it's better

if we wait until it
reveals itself to us,

and after that...

adjust accordingly.

Hello, Tyr.
I believe it's time for a chat.