All language subtitles for 1x07 Magic to Make the Sanest Man Go Mad.[alien]

Discovery :

Discovery is now the only Starfleet ship

with a displacement-activated spore hub drive.

He injected himself with the tardigrade DNA compound.

-Here.
-What's your name?

Lieutenant Ash Tyler.

You'd take food outta the mouths of the
men standing between you and death?

Damn right I would.

Now shall we proceed to our raider?

No.

Get up, soldier. Get up.

I'm slowing you down, sir. Go.

Personal log, Specialist Michael Burnham.

Stardate 2136.8.

Despite my fears to the contrary,

I seem to have found my place on this Discovery.

An air of routine has descended upon the ship,

and even I am a part of it.

I've made friends.

Well, one, at least.

I take comfort in my work.

This ship has quickly become the most important weapon

in the Federation's arsenal in our war against the Klingons.

And because of her, the tide has turned.

Because of us, we are winning.

Lieutenant Stamets' ability to pilot the ship's spore drive

has given him access not just to all of space,

but to unseen parts of his personality, as well.

As we perform our daily responsibilities,

I confess I find some members of my fellow crew

more interesting than others.

Lieutenant Tyler has suffered so much,

and still maintains such dignity and kindness.

I find him... intriguing.

But I fear my personal history interferes
with my ability to forge relationships.

I am among the others, but also apart.

I wish sorely to step out of my
comfort zone, yet don't know how.

But tonight, I will face one of my greatest challenges so far.

Tonight, we are having a party.

One, two, three, go.

Go, Tilly! Go, Tilly!

Go, Tilly! Go, Tilly!

Where's the music?

What's your deal?

Starships have power redundant relays.

-There shouldn't be any flickering.
-No, not work. I'm talking about him.

You guys have been on two dates.
What's going on? I want details.

I helped him calibrate pulse scope rifles in the armory,

and we ate lunch together because it was the end of our shift.

Hey, listen, you gotta give him a sign that you're interested.

Otherwise, you're gonna lose your shot.

Duly noted, when I'm actually on a date, which these were not.

Well, how--? How do you see him?

How does he stack up, compared to your old boyfriends?

How does he compare to yours?

Well, I used to exclusively go for soldiers,

but I'm kind of going through, like, a musician phase right now.

Everyone, hey.

We're all lucky to be here tonight,

surrounded by our brothers and sisters-in-arms.

Laughing. Dancing.

But let's not forget the sacrifices that have been made

-by those who still serve alongside us...
-Here, here!

...and by those who have given their
lives so we can continue the fight.

To the 10,000 souls who are gone,

-but will never be forgotten.
-Never! Yes!

My soldier thing is back.

Burnham.

-Hey, Tilly. What are you up to?
-I'm leaving.

You guys have fun.

Your friend's subtle.

Inappropriately so.

Science Specialist Burnham and Lieutenant Tyler,

please report to the bridge.

Look at that. Saved from the horrors of small talk.

Wait. No, I--

To be clear,

I wasn't attempting to be rude.

It's just that my experience with parties is limited.

-Easy, I get it.
-Left, please.

Vulcans don't party? The Shenzhou? You served for seven years.

Due to my rank, interpersonal fraternization was...

not appropriate.

Not really an excuse anymore.
So, why are you still hiding in corners?

Oh!

I'm sorry, Lieutenant.

I'm sorry, Dr. Culber.

Why would you apologize for a
random act of physical interaction?

These are the moments that make
life so gloriously unpredictable.

You're a very tall man.

I believe you've met Lieutenant Tyler.
He's our new chief of security.

May I say, you are astonishingly grounded

for having endured seven months of torture.

I deeply apologize for my partner.

Lately, he's been, um...

-different.
-Speaking of different,

look at this cybernetic augment that
my resident genius here built for me.

We're trying to make his connection
to the spore drive more comfortable.

You're always looking out for me.

By the way, what's the deal with you two?

There is no deal.

Specialist Burnham would hate to be inappropriate.

-Coming, Burnham?
-What did he mean by that?

Attention officer trainees,
report to your immediate supervisors.

-What did you mean by that?
-Okay.

Captain, the unidentified signal I monitored is directly ahead.

Yellow alert, Mr. Saru.

Shields up.

-Phasers to standby.
-Copy that. Topping up.

Scanners identify the object as biological.

Xenologic classification: gormagander.
Its health appears to be compromised.

Cancel the yellow alert, Mr. Saru.

Thought those had been hunted to extinction.

Hunting isn't the cause of its reduced numbers.

It's primarily due to their mating practices or lack thereof.

They spend their lives feeding on
alpha particles in solar winds.

They're often so consumed by this task
that they ignore all other instincts.

Including reproduction.

That's as depressing a trait as I've ever heard.

Helmsman, plot a course.

The gormagander is on the endangered species list.

Protocol requires transfer to a xenologic facility.

Then have at it.

Hear we've got a lonely gormagander beaming in.

Lost cub or old widow?

No matter what she is, she is all alone.

We've got a lock on the creature. Ready to transport.

Energizing.

All right, sweet girl.

Let's see if we can't figure out what's got you down.

Wait a minute.

I'm detecting abnormal readings inside the creature.

Don't! Don't shoot!

Call the bridge!

Burnham to the bridge.

Intruder alert. Shots fired. Need assistance.

-Intruder's on Deck 6, sir.
-I want him locked down.

-Status on Burnham?
-Unharmed.

-She reports four confirmed fatalities.
-Tell her not to engage the hostile.

We have him trapped, sir.

Whoever you are, drop your weapons. This ends now.

Did you miss me as much as I missed you?

Mudd.

Did you really think that you could
leave me to rot in a Klingon prison

and not suffer any repercussions?

As soon as I find out what's so special about your ship,

I'm gonna sell it to the Klingons. Do you hear me, Captain?

I'm going to sell your ship to your mortal enemy.

And in so doing,

destroy any chance your Federation has of winning this war.

When you left me behind with the Klingons,

you robbed me of my dear, sweet Stella,

the only woman I have ever loved.

And I will have my revenge.

Also, I'm gonna kill you as many times as possible.

I don't see this ending with you taking my ship.

Not this time.

But I have all the data I need for the next, so...

I will see you later.

Or, rather... earlier.

-Mr. Saru.
-Sensors read anicium and yurium

compound explosion.

Hull breach on Deck 6.

Five. Four.

Now three.

We can't contain it, Captain.

To the 10,000 souls who are gone, but will never be forgotten.

Never.

Think my soldier thing is back.

Burnham. Hey, Tilly. What are you up to?

I'm leaving.

Have fun.

-Your friend's subtle.
-Inappropriately so.

Science Specialist Burnham and--

To be clear, I wasn't attempting to be rude.

My experience with parties is limited.

-Easy, Burnham, I get it.
-Left, please.

So Vulcans don't party.

What about the Shenzhou? Served for what, seven years?

Yes, but interpersonal fraternization was inappropriate.

Not really an excuse anymore.

So, why are you still hiding in corners?

There aren't always simple answers to those kinds of questions.

And sometimes there are.

-Oh. Tyler! Tyler, wait!
-Stamets?

Burnham. Both of you. You need to listen to me.

There isn't any time.

-Or, rather, there is time. Too much time.
-Stamets, slow down.

I can't slow down. Don't you see what's happening?

We have been here before.

All of us.

I cannot be the only person who recognizes this.

Paul. I'm very sorry.

-You're ranting.
-What I need is for all of you

placid people to finally start listening.

Wait, wait. Um...

It all starts with a gormagander, okay? A gormagander.

-What's a gormagander?
-It's a space whale.

Well, that explains it.

Yellow alert.

-Yellow alert.
-Nice of you two to show up.

Mr. Saru, what's hiding from us out there?

The object is not an enemy ship, sir.
It is an organic life form.

A gormagander.

Oh, for crying out loud. All right, cancel the yellow alert.

Helm, find some way to get around it.

But, sir, scans show the gormagander's
bio-readings to be highly unstable.

Now, according to regulations, we are required to transfer it--

-Belay that order.
-I don't advise that, Captain.

The Endangered Species Act is quite clear.

Ignoring our duties would put us
in violation of established laws

and subject our captain to court-martial.

Let's beam this into the shuttle bay and
drop it off at the nearest sanctuary.

I'd like to run point on this, sir.

As science specialist,

I'm the most qualified to handle this creature.

I don't give a damn. I just want it done.

I request security oversight of the operation, Captain.

I still don't give a damn. Go.

How could Lieutenant Stamets know we
were gonna run into a gormagander?

There have only been 57 cases of near misses with starships

in the last ten years. The odds are almost incalculable.

-Gotta be a prize for that kind of dumb.
-I hear we've got a lonely gormagander

-beaming in.
-Yeah.

Activate transporter.

You thinking this whale is armed?

Medical readings are abnormal, but nothing else is unusual.

Gonna get closer readings.

You got something?

Faint.

An energy pattern.

Almost like a transporter beam.

Black alert.

- Black alert.
-Why are we preparing to jump?

-Spore drive activated.
-I didn't order a spore jump.

I did not activate it, sir.

Computer, show me engineering.

Denied.

Tyler, get to engineering.

Go, go, go!

Locked from the inside. Security override isn't functioning.

Critical drive overload in three minutes.

Welcome, kiddies. Make yourselves at home.

-I have.
-How did you get out of that prison?

Remember my multi-legged friend Stuart?

Well, we performed a feat of magic

that would make the most accomplished escape artist blush.

Alas, once free, he went his own way.

Bugs, no loyalty.

-Tyler, you know this man?
-He was my cellmate.

Back away. Put your hands in the air.
I won't ask you again, Mudd.

Actually, you will.

But before then,

would you please tell me how to work these controls?

Now, I understand that the drive system
is what's special about this ship.

-Back away or we'll fire.
-But for the life of me I can't...

figure out what these contraptions do.

-Or what they connect to.
-Critical drive overload

- in 60 seconds.
-Can we jump to where you tell me how

to make these systems operational?
I've got some Klingons on the hook.

Might wanna hurry.

We're getting close to that point where, you know...

-Computer, beam intruder to the brig.
-I've created a field to protect me.

You think I would forget to take control of the computer?

Critical drive overload imminent.

-You are mad.
-No.

I'm Mudd.

Now will one of you tell me how to work this damn system?!

As days go, this is a weird one.

Stamets, the drive.

I know. Believe me.

Critical drive overload in 20 seconds.

We've been through all this before. Um...

Multiple times, actually.

And I hate to tell you,

but I have yet to find a way where
it ends with a win for the home team.

Drive overload critical.

I'll see you again soon.

Stamets, wait!

I was gonna ask if you wanted to dance.

Science Specialist Burnham and Lieutenant Tyler,

-please report to the bridge.
-Saved by the bell.

Excuse me.

Excuse me.

-Hey, where's Burnham?
-I don't know.

The gormagander is on the endangered species list.

Have at it.

Burnham, don't talk. Just listen. The ship is in danger.

We are caught in a temporal loop.

We are repeating the same 30 odd minutes over and over again.

The ship can be destroyed. We can be killed.

But as long as the 30 minute window
doesn't expire, everything starts over.

And every second you doubt me brings us all closer to death.

Do you understand?

I think we need to get you to sick bay.

-These might be side effects--
-Exposure to alien DNA.

Possible we haven't taken into
consideration the cognitive variances--

Yes, yes, yes. Please, stop talking. Come with me.

I'll explain everything.

Is the fish safely onboard yet?

Technically, it's not a fish, it's--

-Shuttle bay reports five by five.
-Good.

Captain, message from Dr. Culber.

He's requesting you in sick bay.
It's regarding Lieutenant Stamets.

-It's urgent.
-Sick bay. Direct.

Destination canceled.

-Heavy.
-Mudd?

Computer, red alert.

Override, my dear computer. Come on.

The hell are you doing on my ship?

You ask me that question every single time.

You know that, don't you?

-No, of course you don't.
-What?

Move!

I really can't take it from the
top for you all over again, Lorca.

The message from the doctor was not real.

I just wanted some alone time with you.

There's an area of the ship I can't access.

Hoping you're hiding your secrets to the spore drive inside.

I don't know what you're talking about.

But if you think I'm gonna help you in any way at all,

then you're crazier than I remember.

There are so many ways to blow up this ship.
It's almost a design flaw.

Computer, access self-destruct program.

-Accessed.
-Ball's in your court, Captain.

Mudd is using some kind of technology that allows him

to repeat the same 30 minutes over and over.

He's trying to get the drive running
to sell the ship to the Klingons.

Well, how are you capable of existing outside of the time loop?

Well, the tardigrade is a multidimensional creature,

so, it must be a side effect of combining its DNA with mine.

-Yes, so, you remember everything.
-Yes.

And it's getting really hard to keep it straight.

I can't stop Mudd alone, Burnham.

And sooner or later, he's going to figure out

there's a piece missing from the spore drive.

It's me.

How is Mudd creating a time loop?

I don't know. I'm hoping Tyler might,
because they shared a cell together.

Tyler mentioned it right before I shot Mudd.

Anyway, I need you to talk to Tyler.

We're almost out of time in this loop.

Tell me a secret.

Something that will immediately prove
to you we've had this conversation.

Something you've never admitted to anyone.

I promise, it'll be safe with me.

I'm sorry.

Where is Mudd now?

Now is usually around the time he kills the captain.

Okay.

Ooh, I love what you've done with the place, Gabe.

There's nothing here for you, Mudd.
This is my own private research area.

Uh-huh. Why didn't you tell me that
you had so many wonderful toys?

Ooh.

Wonder what this does.

I'm thinking it might melt brains. Does it melt brains?

Kill a Starfleet captain, they lock you up forever.

You know that.

Know how many times I've had the
pleasure of taking your life, Lorca?

Fifty-three. But who's counting?

And it never gets old.

Oh, drat. We're almost out of time.

I'll figure out how that little motor
of yours works sooner or later.

I've got all the time in the world.

And in the meanwhile, we still don't know what this does.

Let's find out.

-What's your deal?
-Starships have redundant power relays.

-There shouldn't--
-I spotted the hottest guy over there,

and apparently, he's in a band.

-Have fun.
-Okay.

-I wouldn't take you for this event.
-You've never been in love.

-Why would you say that?
-I need your help.

You told me that information to prove
to you that what I'm saying is true.

We've been caught in a 30-minute time loop,

and I'm the only one who realizes it.
I have witnessed you and Lorca

and Tyler die at the hands of a criminal named Harry Mudd,

who is trying to take over our ship.
I need to know you believe me,

because if I have to explain this again,
I'm gonna throw myself out an air lock.

...sacrifices that have been made

by those who still serve...

-I believe you.
-Good.

So, please, talk to Tyler,

and find out if he has any information
on Mudd that will help us stop him.

-But what if he won't talk to me, either?
-Oh, he will.

He likes you.

Here he comes.

Uh-oh. Xenoanthropologist in the corner. Don't tell me.

Busy studying coupling rituals of pent-up soldiers.

-No.
-I was gonna ask if you wanted to dance.

We don't have time.

Oh.

I mean...

Science Specialist Burnham and Lieutenant Tyler,

please report to the bridge.

Saved by the bell.

I am really bad at this.

Yeah, you should've gone with him to the bridge.

If what you say is true,

then Tyler and I don't have any more
alone time until the next reset.

Our one chance to fix all this, and I blew it.

You like him.

That makes things a little tricky.

I'm out of my element.

Dance with me.

For science.

I need to see what I'm working with.

But say I wanted to step out of my corner.

How do people connect in that way?

Hugh and I fell in love after I told him to get lost.

-That doesn't make any sense.
-Well, love isn't logical.

Here. Can you let me lead, please?

I was in a wonderful café on Alpha Centauri,

when, three seats down, comes this hideous humming.

Have you ever heard someone try to hum Kasseelian opera?

I can't say that I have.

Well, I told him to stifle it, or sit somewhere else.

Instead... he sat right next to me.

And he's been there ever since.

After such a rude exchange,

why would he do that?

I told him how I really felt.

And he did the same.

And we liked that about each other.

I'm good at honesty.

Never hide who you are. That's the only way relationships work.

We're out of time.

We'll have to figure out how Mudd's resetting the time loop.

You'll do better on the next go-around.

You have to.

-Hi.
-Hey.

I was just coming over to see-- You want to dance?

I thought you'd never ask.

Will you lead, please?

Yeah.

* Love *

* Love and happiness *

* But wait a minute Something's going wrong *

* Someone's on the phone *

So, I hear you were locked up in that
Klingon prison cell with Harry Mudd.

Not one for small talk, are you?

I've never understood it, really.

But I've realized that...

relationships are built on honesty.

So, here it is. Harry Mudd is here.

And in a few minutes, he's gonna take over this ship.

He wants to sell it to the Klingons.

-He's already trapped us in a time loop.
-Harry Mudd?

Wait, is this Vulcan humor?

I wish it were.

-Why didn't Stamets come to me?
-He tried in previous loops.

He felt you'd have an easier time trusting me.

Why is that?

Because I like you.

Oh.

And he thinks you like me, too.

This night's gotten weird.

But also, very interesting.

If time really is repeating,

this won't matter.

-* Love and happiness *
-* Love and happiness *

* You be good to me *

* I'll be good to you *

* We'll be together, yeah *

-* We'll see each other *
-That was nice.

* Walk away with victory, yeah *

Science Specialist Burnham and Lieutenant Tyler,

please report to the bridge.

No. Please, ignore it.

-We have to.
-Okay. Okay.

So, how can I help?

Did Mudd ever mention having access to equipment

that could help him do something this big?

Yeah. Yeah, he--

He did used to brag about robbing a Betazoid bank.

Heavily secured and fortified. No way in.

Volatile encryption.

Molecular locks.

Daily DNA password protection.

Mudd claimed to have memorized the security patterns.

I thought it was just another one of his lies.

But I guess if he had an unlimited number of tries...

Did he say how he did it?

Something about a nonequilibrial matter state.

A time crystal.

We learned about these at the Vulcan Academy.

But the decay rate of the lattice is too unpredictable.

No Federation-aligned species has been able to stabilize them.

A four-dimensional race

must have perfected the technology, and now Mudd has it.

Why don't we track Mudd,
see if he's wearing one of these crystals?

Any idea where he is?

Let's go.

Has that fish beamed aboard safely yet?

Well, technically, it's not a fish, it's--

Mm-hm.

Where the hell are Burnham and Tyler?

Mr. Saru?

I don't understand. I'm locked out of the ship's controls.

Computer.

Computer, respond!

Let me see what I can do.

Computer, reduce volume, so we can have a normal conversation.

-Yes, Captain Mudd.
-"Captain Mudd"?

I never thought I would say this,
but I'm actually tired of gloating.

In any case, this is very much my ship.

Your ship?

-Very much not at all.
-All right, show's over, Mudd.

-Back to whatever hole you crawled out of.
-To the brig.

I do not know how you wrested control,
but you are in violation--

Of code 7.5.3.

Yes. You've said many times.

At any rate, tell me, lanky, have you ever seen one of these?

Of the 823 ways there are to die in space,

this is rumored to be the most painful.

I found them in your former captain's man cave.

Apparently, the weaponized dark matter

rips molecules apart at the subatomic level.

So, if any of you are planning on becoming heroes,

including you, random communications officer man,

you'll find there's very little I don't know.

Now, just sit tight.

This will hurt a bit.

Mudd.

Oh.

Seem to have missed.

Well, that was new.

Let us not suffer any more needless losses.

-Please.
-Okey-doke. Listen up.

One of you is going to teach me how this damn drive works...

or the beanpole dies screaming.

So, how do I start that engine?

Hmm?

I will disintegrate every single one of you...

in a screaming fit of agony,

one at a time,

starting with you.

Stop!

I can't watch you kill any more people.

It needs me to work.

Delicious.

Shall we to the engine room? Computer.

Pump up the volume.

Engineering.

Toodles.

Tilly, where are you?

So, did I die, too?

We all died, many times.

But now Mudd has everything that he needs.

If we can't stop him, he'll let
Discovery rejoin the time stream,

and sell the ship to the Klingons.

Anyone who's dead will stay dead forever.

And Starfleet loses the war.

I noticed that Mudd was wearing a crystal on his wrist.

But it's too small to generate enough
energy for chronal displacements.

-There has to be a larger energy source.
-Oh, okay.

Uh... Uh, I got something.

Um...

I'm sending it to you now.

Poor thing. No wonder you feel bad.

Mudd hid the ship inside the creature,
and the crystal inside the ship.

This crystal, it has the same orthogonal indices

as the device on Mudd's wrist.

Can we beam it over to the deck to disable it?

No, because Mudd has control of all the critical systems.

We're running out of time.

Now that Mudd knows how to work the spore drive,

the only way is to get Mudd to reset time himself.

You said he has no reason to restart time.

He has everything the Klingons want.

No, he doesn't.

Captain's log, stardate 2137.2.

Captain Harcourt Fenton Mudd recording.

I am about to close the deal of the millennium.

Enter.

Hmm.

You seem at home.

Should've been a captain.

I'm neither one for following orders nor giving them. No.

The solar winds are my mistress,
and I follow her wherever she beckons.

Mmm. And what about Stella?

What?

Oh, yes. Oh, Stella.

The love of my life. Ah, Stella.

The war took her from me.

Never have two souls been so star-crossed.

Romantic? Yes.

Tragic? Ha. Even more so.

But the best of romances always are, aren't they?

Are you done?

Almost. Computer, please send our
location to the awaiting Klingon ship,

-courtesy of Harry Mudd.
-Coordinates sent.

-Now I'm done.
-Klingons will pay a lot to win this war.

But there is one thing they would pay more for.

Oh, really?

Me. I murdered T'Kuvma, the Klingon messiah.

That's absurd. I checked the officers manifest.

You're a nobody.

I'm not an officer.

I'm Michael Burnham.

-Computer, confirm.
-Identity confirmed.

Captain Mudd, the alien ship is hailing--

-Quiet.
-You'll get a lot of money for this ship.

But what would I be worth to them?

Oh.

Oh, yes.

More.

Much, much more.

But why are you telling me this? Hmm?

What's in it for you?

Lieutenant Tyler.

Lieutenant Tyler is dead.

Not for long.

What? No.

Ah--

-Captain Mudd.
-Damn it.

We are being hailed by the Klingons.

Son of a--

Captain Mudd.

What's this?

Your chair.

What's happening?

You. Hmm. You've been cheating.

Passing notes in class to save your friends.

Well, whatever you think you've come up with,

I'll find a workaround. I'll keep resetting time until I do.

Nobody beats Mudd.

Lieutenant Stamets has shown us your
success is a universal certainty.

Using considerable scientific methodology.

This must end for all of our sakes.

So, Harcourt Fenton Mudd...

the U.S.S. Discovery is yours.

As am I.

You win.

-Don't try and con a con man.
-I'm not.

I'm negotiating with a businessman.

My offer's simple.

The lives of my crew in exchange for...

Burnham, the ship, and Stamets.

Why would a Federation captain do that?

I will not have a repeat of the Buran.

We will do whatever our new owners require,

if I have your word that you will spare the ship's complement.

Your word, Mudd.

Well, I've never been one to look a gift captain in the mouth.

You have my word.

Excellent. Excellent, good.

-Computer.
-Working.

Send our coordinates to the awaiting Klingon vessel,

courtesy of Harry Mudd.

Sending, Captain Mudd.

Now...

...this is your last chance to stop me.

Only got about 30 seconds until we rejoin the time stream,

and there is no turning back.

Captain, incoming warp signature detected.

I never thought I'd be so happy to
see those pointy-headed bastards.

Oh! Look at this. Five, four, three, two, one.

Captain Mudd,

- we are being hailed by the Klingons.
-Excellent.

-Welcome our guests onboard.
- Acknowledged. Two to beam aboard.

Energize once I reach the transporter room.

Come along. Meet your new masters.

Ah-ah-ah. Not you, old man.

Lorca, I'm gonna really miss killing you.

Adieu, mon capitaine.

-You seem very happy.
-Listen, petunia,

I've been screwed over since the day I was born. I deserve this.

So, it wasn't about Stella after all?

It was always only about you.

You keep talking about how you lost her because of the war,

but her father's an arms dealer who's made a fortune off it.

Finding either of them shouldn't be that difficult,

-unless you don't want to.
-I never told you about Baron Grimes.

No, but Discovery's archives are non-critical systems.

You probably should've disarmed them, as well.

Now you don't have your time crystal,
you can't learn from this mistake.

And it turns out that Stella's been looking for you.

So much so that her father put out a reward.

-You haven't been running to Stella.
-You've been running from her.

Skipped out on the baron's daughter with her dowry.

Stella was too tempting a mark for you to resist.

But ripping off her father was a risky move.

No wonder you needed the deal with the Klingons so badly.

You had to disappear.

And you almost pulled it off, except for me,

'cause I exist outside the normal time stream.

You think you're so smart.

Have you forgotten the Klingons are
beaming their way here as we speak?

Hmm? You can forget about that deal I made with Lorca.

You geniuses have just condemned your
crewmates to a life of servitude.

Harry, the Klingons aren't coming.

I rewired the captain's chair.

Another non-critical system.

You didn't send coordinates to your buyers.

You sent them to Stella...

and her daddy.

Turns out you can con a con man.

Let's go.

Computer, cancel transporter now.

Denied.

Harcourt.

Where have you been?

-I have been so worried about you.
-Mmm...

Oh. It's been, oh, such a tumultuous year.

I can't even begin to explain.

Try.

Yes. Yes.

Of course.

You know how much you meant to me.

Mean.

How much you mean to me.

But to be brutally honest,

I have led a life marred by, oh, how shall we say...

poor choices, debt.

All kinds of blemishes to my reputation.

And I couldn't enter into union with you

with those pocks upon my character,
so, I set out to eliminate them.

But, alas, my plan was led astray.

Harry, I have always known who you are.

And I've never cared.

We could've faced those problems together, and...

Daddy would've taken care of everything else.

Consider it a consolidation of your debt under one lender.

I would do anything for my daughter,
and she, for better or worse,

has taken to you, Mudd.

And now, thanks to the action of these officers,

you can finally make an honest woman of Stella.

As for Starfleet, I don't intend
to be in debt to your organization.

How do I repay you?

Just make sure Mr. Mudd spends the rest
of his days at your daughter's side,

and out of Starfleet's way.

Consider it done.

Come here, Harcourt, you naughty boy.

-Hey.
-Hey.

Stamets told me in a previous timeline, that we, um...

danced.

Yeah.

Yeah, he mentioned that to me, too.

He said I liked it.

I can't imagine.

Why?

I'm a really good dancer.

-I didn't mean--
-Easy, Burnham.

I get it.

What I'm feeling...

is complicated...

and strange.

It's okay.

I'm not going anywhere.

What is it?

I'm just sad we missed our first kiss.

Personal log.

Just as repetition reinforces repetition,

change begets change.

I guess the truth is, we never really know what's coming.

Sometimes, the only way to find out where you fit in

is to step out of the routine.

Because sometimes where you really belong

was waiting right around the corner all along.