All language subtitles for bss02e02

Are you the liaison
sent by the Admiralty?
I am, my lord.

I intend to save Nassau
before she's lost forever.

Hornigold provided security
for the consortium's
operations.

You'd like me
to fill that role
for you now?

If your friends aren't capable
of protecting themselves,

they aren't worth
protecting.

What's your name?
Ned Low.

It would be a shame
to make enemies of each other

over such a small
amount of money.

Get out of my place.

Hell of a prize,
Mr. Meeks.

Hell of a prize.

Perhaps it is in
everyone's best interest

that you and I find a way
past all of this.

There's simply no way
of stealing their gold.

But there might be something
else you can steal--
their war ship.

You will both be
transported back to Nassau

at which point
you will be removed from
this ship permanently.

I think you intend to
take control of this ship.

And then I think you intend
to return to that beach

and seize every last ounce
of gold off of it.

And I think you're going
to need my help to do it.

I learned of this technique
from a Spanish bishop.

Six days,
they claim,

before the sun shrinks
the leather so tight

that the ribs collapse,
piercing vital organs within.

And on the seventh day,
you'll rest.

Who knew?
They have a sense of humor.

When my men first
pulled you out of the sea

and brought you back
to this garrison,

I knew right away
you were going to be
of great value to me.

You were ill-disposed
to acknowledge as much then,

but five days later,

I believe
I have your attention.

You see, I believe
I may have an opportunity

to be liberated
from this place.

And you are going
to help me.

And God said,
"Let there be light,"

and then there was light.

And He saw
that it was good,

and He separated the land
from the water,

and He called
the water the Seas.

And He said,
"Let the sea bring forth
life abundantly."

And He blessed it,

and He said
that it was good.

And He formed man
of the dust of the ground

and breathed life
into his nostrils

and man became
a living soul.

And He beheld
all He had created,

and He said
it was very good.

But the Lord beheld the man
made in his likeness

and He beheld
his solitude...

and He said,

"It is not good
that he is alone."

And the moral of the story...

everybody needs a partner.

You are the partner
assigned to me

in response to my father's
request by the Admiralty,
but it would appear

that even you
believe this endeavor
is doomed to fail.

Beg pardon, my lord,
but I didn't say that.

I merely said that
it would be wise for us
to manage our expectations

as to what's achievable.

And what is it that
you think is achievable?

Well, sir,
the pirate issue
is a thorny one,

but I believe that
there are ways to--

Aside from the pirates.
I'm sorry?

I don't believe
the pirates are the cause
of Nassau's problem.

I believe
they are a symptom.

The root causes
are the ones that I would
like to address first.

Root causes?

The graft of its governor.

The incompetence
of its managers.

The neglect of its lords.

The instability
caused by these things

is what draws
the pirates to Nassau,
not the other way around.

So let's begin there.

What is it that you believe
would truly return Nassau

to stable profitability?

You mean aside from
removing the pirates?

Let's leave them out
for now, yes.

What would it take?

Farmers, men skilled
in the cultivation of
sugar and tobacco.

Magistrates to maintain order.
Carpenters to raise buildings.

Clergy to raise spirits.

Foodstuffs to sustain them all
for six months, perhaps a year.

Three ships
to transport it all,
sailors to sail them.

And an honest governor,

the first in recent memory,
to oversee it all.

In short,
you'd be assembling
a colony,

boarding it onto ships,
transporting it across
the Atlantic,

and hoping that
when it arrives,
it takes to an environment

that has resisted
every attempt at
stable commerce

for the past 50 years.

Oh, and then there are
the pirates that we've
agreed not to discuss.

Are you sure three ships
would be enough?

My lord,
I feel I have to be
honest with you.

I have grave doubts
about whether something
like this is realistic.

Yes, I've gathered that.
If you wish to request

a liaison more sympathetic
to your views,

I'm sure Admiral Hennessey
would be happy to oblige.

The New World is a gift,
Lieutenant,

a sacred opportunity
to right our wrongs
and begin anew.

And I do not want
my family's plot in it

to be the reason
for its fall.

I'm not looking for
someone to hold my hand.

I need someone
who can help me

ensure that
Nassau survives.

The stakes are too great
for anything else.

And you suspect
that I'm that person

despite the fact
that it's clear

that we both view the world
very differently?
Because of it.

Strange pairs, Lieutenant.

They can achieve
the most unexpected things.

You can walk away
from all this if you wanted.

The moment
we arrive at Nassau,

you're free to go
anywhere you want.

And yet you've offered

to help me regain control
of this crew.

Why would you do that?

You mean aside
from the share of gold
I'd get out of it?

There are other ways
of earning money,
other crews.

I don't want to earn money.

I don't want to join
another crew.

If we're being honest,
I don't really want
to be on this crew

a day longer than
is absolutely necessary.

Why not?

Because I don't want
to be a pirate.

I'm not interested
in the life.

Not interested
in the fighting,

not interested
in the ships.

I don't care much for the sea
while we're on the subject.

But being a pirate
on this crew

for a little while
longer,

it offers me
an opportunity

I don't believe
I can find anywhere
else on Earth--

one big prize.

And with it, freedom.

From water,
from Randall,

from hunger,
from wages...

from you.

Just one question.

In approximately
two days' time,

when we arrive
back at Nassau,

you and I will
both be unceremoniously
expelled from this ship.

That would seem to be
an impediment to your plan.

In less than two days,

I intend to be
a captain again.

I suggest you find a way
of earning your way back
onto this crew as well.

Captain, a word, please.

Mr. Meeks,
how can I help you?

What happened at the tavern
last night, Captain?

I don't know.
Did something happen?

I've heard word
you confronted
the Guthrie woman.

Threatened her?
And?

And I wish
you hadn't done that.

I'm sorry you feel that way.
Are we through?

No, we're not.

The crew's relationship
with her

is worth far more than
the amount she withheld

from the Good Fortune prize.

You're recklessly
jeopardizing that
relationship,

their relationship.

Mr. Meeks,
would you like to know

what the men
were laughing at
just now when you arrived?

I was recounting to them

my conversation
at the tavern last night

and wondering aloud

if I were to fuck
the lady Guthrie

to within an inch
of her young life
while they watched,

would the crew
consider her debt
to them repaid in full?

And will they feel the same

when their next haul
is rejected by her outright?

When we return
from Carolina,

every man on this ship
will have his hat
filled with gold.

What happens after that?

It's an uncertain world,
Mr. Meeks.

Best to live in the now.

He took me in

when I didn't have shit.

Made a place for me.

Taught me things.

Without him,
I wouldn't have
fucking made it.

When someone
gives you a life,

it ain't truly your own.

You owe some part of it back.

What happened last night...

Jesus.

I understand.

Something so different
from what you know.

I know how frightening
it can be.

I will respect your wishes

and we can make last night
the last time.

Oh, fuck.
There must be a way.

A way to make me
essential.

They can hate me,
they just need to need me.

Randall,
hurry the fuck up.

We're waiting.

And don't you dare
fucking spit in my bowl,
Randall.

We all know you do it
when you're ornery,

but I'm warning you,
I'll know.

Curs.

You're gonna do it
anyway, aren't you?

Randall, that is
truly disgusting.

Imbecile or no,
you really ought
to know better.

I don't like him.

Be that as it may,
it hardly justifies...

What did you say?

I don't like him.

Yes.

Perhaps the better
question is,

who else doesn't like him?

Yes?

A moment, if I may?

Of course.

Have you read
any of these?

Excuse me?

A shelf of books,
so many lives unled...

so many possibilities.

I glanced, but nothing
rang familiar.

Nor for me.

You know the irony
of all this?

When we first found you,

I was the one who saw
the promise in acquiring you

and Mr. Gates was the one
who opposed it.

Is that so?

He didn't trust
lettered men.

Found them harder
to keep in line,

more resistant
to persuasion.

I prevailed.

What was your argument?

That I was tired
of being the only one

he had a hard time
keeping in line.

Mr. Flint, I'm sorry,
but I have a tremendous
amount of preparations--

It's killing me...

what happened.

What I did to Mr. Gates.

I keep on replaying it
in my mind

every waking moment,

trying to see
another way.

I don't expect you
to understand,

but I need you to know
that no one on this ship

feels his loss
more keenly than I do.

I know he developed
a great affection for you.

Perhaps if I can support you
in this moment,

it will be some
small penance for
what I've done.

How exactly do you propose
to support me?

By giving you
good counsel.

We're losing
our favorable wind.

Been losing it for hours.

Now, sooner or later,
someone will suggest

tacking east
around the coast,
get ahead of the wind.

Maneuvered properly,
that would be the
fastest way home,

but I suggest
that you resist
that plan at all costs.

Why?

Because that route
runs right through

the common passage
out of Kingston.

And the men will press
to take the first prize
they sight.

We're in possession
of a war ship.

Why would we shy away
from taking a prize?

Because the men
aren't ready.

Not with the numbers
they've lost.

They're far too depleted
to fully man this ship
in battle.

You get them home safely,

get them rested,
reinforce their numbers,

and then take this ship
and do with it what you will.

"A sacred opportunity
to right our wrongs."

My God, do you know
anyone in the world
who talks that way?

I do now, sir.

Is it possible
he's fully mad?

Half of Whitehall
whispers it.

He isn't mad.
He's just...

bright, determined,
wealthy,

all at the same time.

Jesus.
That's worse.

You might like him, sir.

Actually, I went to one
of those salons of his,

the ones that half
the Royal Society attend
but most deny.

Most of those men
are pretenders, sir,

attracted to his ideas
because they make them
feel like radicals.

But Thomas...

when he talks about
the need to rethink things,

systemic things,

I think he truly believes
what he's saying.

And what's more,
I'm afraid I might believe
a good deal of it as well.

Thomas?

I'm sorry, sir.

He refuses to
stand on ceremony,
insists on the familiar.

I know what you're thinking,
but I assure you, sir,

my judgment,
as it relates to
this assignment,

is still intact.

Ship's business.

I shall return.
No, no.

Is there a problem?

No problem.
None whatsoever.

Apologies.

Perhaps it's
my jealousy showing.

Liaison to
the Hamilton family,

that's quite
an appointment.

Congratulations, sir.

Thank you.

I must say,
I thought myself
quite qualified,

but then I suppose
perhaps

for this
particular assignment,
you were the better man.

Of course,
I can understand

how it would be
of such importance to you.

Someone of your station--
son of a carpenter's mate

given a chance
to socialize with a lord.

Hold that position
for long enough

and you might convince
everyone you're something
more than you actually are.

A gentleman,
most civilized.

I imagine there is
no end to the benefits

Thomas Hamilton's favor
could bestow upon you.

Future employment,
status--

hell, I understand
if he likes you well enough,

he may even let you
fuck his wife.

Enough!

If you are an officer
in my fleet,

I suggest
you leave this place.

Now!

You can't blame the men.

They'd suffered under
an awful stretch of captains.

Weaklings,
frauds, liars.

Ned Low, whatever he is,
he's none of those things.

The men saw him
as an answer.

But now I fear
they cannot see
that by supporting him,

they may be sowing the seeds
of their own destruction.

Mr. Meeks,
your men can't
possibly be that stupid.

Are they unaware of
the profits he cost them
with the Good Fortune prize?

Or the future profits
he's costing them with me?

Ma'am, I'm uncertain
of my footing on
this subject.

Suffice it to say,

the Good Fortune yielded up
a unique item of great value.

The men know where
their next distribution
is coming from

and it isn't you.

Item?
What kind of item?

I really cannot say.

Well, Mr. Meeks,
I'm not exactly sure

what it is you think
I can do for you,

but I've got business--
I hear you depose captains.

Excuse me?
I'm told you have that power.

I'm told you've
done it before.

That was a special case

and something I nearly
paid for at the cost
of my livelihood.

Simply incompatible
with the role I play here now.

He is a mad man.

And he's fixed on you
as an object of his ire.

I need your help.
My men need your help.

But you have an interest
in seeing this resolved
as well.

Ma'am.

I'm on my way.

Wait for me in the bar.

We'll continue
this conversation.

Apologies, gentlemen,
for keeping you waiting.

I'm most eager
to hear the results of
Captain Lawrence's journey.

Thanks, love.
Treating yourself,
I see.

I'd say you're entitled.

The work you've done
for my inn is commendable.

And what good are the efforts
if they yield no spoils?

I don't know what you mean.
Don't ya?

Mademoiselle,
what exactly is happening
between you and Anne?

She wanted me out of the inn,
out on the streets.

What would you
have had me do?

I couldn't say,
but seducing her
was certainly...

an interesting approach.

Call it what you like,

but yesterday
she was enraged.

And today she is not.

That is not seduction,

that is simply
removing the cause
of her frustration.

Please.

She was frustrated
because you crossed
Eleanor Guthrie.

Do you really
believe that?

Has she not been
behaving strangely

for far longer
than any of that?

Were Mr. Hamund here,
perhaps he could testify
on the subject.

I beg your pardon,
but are you asking me

to believe that Anne
killed eight men,

risked her life,
utterly destroyed
both our reputations,

to say nothing
of the damage done to
her relationship with me,

to remove you
from that tent,
and that she did it all

because she secretly
wants to fuck you?

I see.

I'll tell you what
that sounds like to me.

It sounds like a crass
attempt to drive a wedge
between my partner and I

to achieve for yourself
a controlling influence

over our little
triumvirate.

Perhaps I'll share
that feeling with Anne

and let's just see
how quickly she turns
that anger in your direction.

It won't work.
No?

Why?
Because I believe that
somewhere, somehow,

you have known
she has wanted this--

needed this
for a very long time.

I'm giving it to her.

And now that she has it,

it would be exceedingly
difficult for her
to let it go.

This upsets you.
This threatens you.

I am sorry.

There is nothing
you can do about it.

Hoist up the sails!

No luck?
Ugly stretch.

Goddamn wind
just won't cooperate.

If I were to suggest
rather than trying
to tack southwest

that we head east,
hug the coast to navigate
around the weather,

what would you say?

I would say either
somebody gave you that idea,

somebody who's
a hell of a sailor,

or you've been
holding back on me.

Flint said to avoid it.

Said when it was raised

that we should resist
the temptation at all costs.

Avoid the common passage
it would take us through

and the temptation
to hunt a prize.

You spoke to Flint?

He approached me.

Why would he do that?

Why attempt to scuttle
the idea before any of us
have even arrived at it?

Is it possible
he still believes he can
take back his command?

How?

There isn't a man on the crew
that will even speak to him,

much less support him.

I don't know,
but had he that notion,

I imagine the idea
of this crew taking
a prize under your command

would be
a terrifying prospect.

I suppose
the only question is,

are you prepared
to lead them?

Set the course.

It's better
than nothing,
isn't it?

An account of goings-on.

Volume the first
on this 13th day in June,

The weather is fair.

Fresh topsail gale,
north by northeast.

First item--

a certain member of this crew,
who shall remain nameless,

was seen dozing
during the night watch.

Another member
of the same watch

took the opportunity
to take three pieces
from his pocket--

Shut the fuck up.

We're eating.

What was that?

I am convincing the crew

to allow me
to remain with them.

As we discussed.

Is that what you're doing?

I spent three years
at the St. John's Home
for Poor Orphan Boys.

During that time,
I knew a boy named
Solomon Little.

Cleft palette,
spotted face,

and the most unfortunate
set of ears

I have, to this day,
ever seen.

He should have been beaten
to within an inch of his life
on a daily basis

if the laws
of nature applied.

Yet no one ever
laid a finger on him

because even
at that tender age,

he knew...

it isn't about getting them
to like you,

it's about reminding them
how much they dislike
each other.

He got up every morning,
made his address,

and I'll be God damned
if there was a boy
in that home

who could've lasted
a day without it.

You do realize that
those are grown men
out there, not boys.

In my experience,

when it comes to the thrill
of ridiculing one's peers,

there's little difference.

No one pays him
any attention,

so he sees everything.

And he knows
his fate and mine

are more closely linked
than he'd care to admit.

So he reports it all
back to me.

And there's plenty more
gossip in the well.

Good luck with...

whatever this is.

80 barrels of molasses,

65 units of rum.

I can't believe this is
all we got for it.

If I may, ma'am,
I consider it a triumph

I made it back here at all.

I was met with great
skepticism at every turn,

from the merchant buyers
to the customs house--

Your papers were
properly arranged.

Your payoffs were
in the proper amounts.

It was all in good order.

All but your
family's name, ma'am.

It is no longer
in good order,

and everyone
in that harbor knew it.

I was questioned for nigh
on three hours

the minute the customs man
realized I was your agent.

At a certain point,
I had to frighten him
into believing

there would be reprisals
against him personally

if he were to arrest me.

By whom?
I beg your pardon?

By whom did you suggest
there would be reprisals
against him?

Did you use
Mr. Frasier's name?

Captain Naft's, then?

I can understand
how that would strike fear
in the heart of any man.

Charles, enough.
Or did you use mine?

You're welcome.

How awkward this is.

Mr. Holmes here
informed me

that he observed you
in this place

nervously entering
Eleanor Guthrie's office.

I told myself,
"What on Earth could
Mr. Meeks have to say to her?"

Now forced to wonder
if it stems from your
concerns about my fitness.

Seeking an ally, perhaps,
to threaten my position
as captain.

I swore an oath
to those men.

To protect them
from their captain.

From themselves
when called for.

I see.

But perhaps you're right.

Perhaps you serve
their interests best
by betraying me in this moment.

Although, perhaps
this is just the act
of a spineless traitor,

in which case...

well, in which case...

I have a duty to do
something about it.

You need to walk
away from this.
Walk away?

This venture
is on shaky footing.

How long before
the street realizes this?

How long before the mob
is outside your door again?

What happens if this time
it won't go away?

Since when have you been
concerned with my operation?

My concern is for you.

I believe this is
going to work.

I believe you have motive
to see it fail.

I believe you're angry
with me.

I believe you resent me.

What I do not believe--

not at all,
not for an instant--

is that you have
any concern for me.

I can't protect you
from this.

My men follow me because
I serve their interests first.

To ask them
to protect a tyrant

too weak to enforce
her own tyranny--

I will have
a very hard time
convincing them

that that is in
their interests.

If you are not strong enough
to protect yourself, Eleanor,

then I am urging you
to cease behaving
as if you are.

I don't want to see you
in my place again.

I don't want to see
you on my island again.

Take your men,
take your shit,

and seek life elsewhere.

I'd appreciate it
if you'd remove that
from my face, friend.

Did you not hear
the lady, friend?

All right.

Don't.

I'm sorry we've had
such a rough go of it,
you and I...

but I'm afraid I'm simply
enjoying myself

way too much to consider
leaving this place.

I'm sure we'll be seeing
each other soon.

If you're trying
to impress me,

it isn't working.

Goings-on,
volume the fourth.

Light breeze,
west-southwest.

Sunset in roughly
three hours.

First item--

a certain member
of the rigging crew,

who shall remain
nameless,

was moving his bowels
over the side.

He was spotted
considering the stick

and its unacceptable
state of being,

and instead,
chose to wipe

with the bare palm
of his hand.

Next item--

Oh...

A member
of the third watch,

who shall remain
nameless,

entered the pen
late last night

sometime
after three bells.

Though no one actually
saw him enter or exit,

evidence of his presence
was clear,

as upon inspection,

the dairy goat's anus
was irritated from overuse.

You fucked
the dairy goat?

The dairy goat?

They know who fucked
the dairy goat.

There you go, Joshua!

Sail!
Starboard bow!

Sail!
Starboard bow!

There!

Steady.

Steer steady,
keep your course.

What is she?
English colors.

Inbound from Kingston.
Sugar merchants, most likely.

How do you presume
an English merchantmen
will react

when being hailed
by a Spanish warship?

Only one way to find out.

Anyone up
for a little hunting?

I'm sorry,
you were saying something

about your judgment
on this matter

remaining intact.

I apologize, sir.

Good sense escaped me
for a moment.

An insult to the man's wife
that had to be answered.

It reflects not
upon my fitness

to continue handling
Lord Hamilton.

I know how important
this posting is.

I know you know.

My concern with you

is over that
which cannot be known.

That thing
which arises in you

when passions
are aroused...

good sense escapes you.

All men have it.

But yours...
yours is different.

Darker. Wilder.

I imagine it's what
makes you so effective
as an officer.

But when exposed
to extremes,

I could not imagine
what it is capable of.

And of greater concern,

I'm not sure
you do either.

Lift!

Raise the lateen.

Pull away!

Heave!

Pull away, God damn it!

Pull away,
you lubbers!

Heave!

Come down.
Aye, sir.

Harnin' the port sheets.

Harnin' the port sheets!

Take your pistols.

Ready the grappling.
Keep it dry.

Stand to, lads!

I don't need to explain to you
the stakes of what happens

if Mr. Dufresne
is successful in
taking this prize.

Keep the mainsail tight!

Took me a while to get
a feel for this part of it.

Raise the black too soon
and the prize will run.

Raise it too late

and you'll induce panic
and a greater chance
of resistance.

You ought to show your colors
at just the right moment

to get them
to strike theirs.

Raise the black.

Raise the black!

Raise the black!

Gun crews at the ready.

Hold your breath, lads.

They struck their colors.

See?
I told you.

Prepare to board.
Aye.

You're in command here, yes?

I am.

You were wise
not to fight.

Are there any men
lying in wait below?

Answer truthfully

or the consequences
will be severe.

It is as you see it.

Sweep the hold.
Start at the bow.

This is
the most dangerous part.

Look at him.

His mind is drowning
in questions.

Did I make
the right decision?

How am I going to explain
to my proprietors

that I gave up their goods
without a fight?

What kind of man am I?

You hope he has answers
to those questions.

You hope that he can
reassure himself

that he made
the right decision.

You hope that
he doesn't realize

that the thing that he thought
he was surrendering to--

the thing that drove fear
into his heart

the moment
he saw the black...

that that thing
is nowhere to be found.

Are you him?

Beg your pardon?
I said are you him?
Are you Captain Flint?

I assure you, sir,

you do not want to test us.

Men in these waters
are hard men.

They don't fear ships.
They don't fear guns.

They don't fear swords.

Then what do they fear?

Retreat!
Back to the ship!

I want muskets
in the rigging to
suppress their front line.

Mr. Dufresne,
we have lost the day.

Muskets!

We must disengage.

What are we waiting for?
Why aren't we moving?

Give the order,
Mr. Dufresne.

We do not have the manpower
to retake that ship.

We must get underway.
Why the fuck are we
waiting for him?

Because he's in charge here.
No one is in fucking charge
here!

You have to sink her.

You cannot just escape,
you have to sink that ship.

For if a single one
of those men lives
to tell the tale,

no one will ever surrender
before that flag again.

Cut us loose.
Get us underway.

Cut us loose!
Get us underway!

Set sail.
Cut the line!
Cut the line!

Gun crews at the ready.

Gun crews at the ready.

Two-six! Two-six!
Heave! Heave!

Two-six! Two-six!
Heave! Heave!

Two-six!
Heave!

Fire!

Fire!
Fire!

I don't see a move
I can make from here.

If I move against him
directly,

his men retaliate
and I don't have the muscle
to withstand it.

And even if I could muster up
that kind of support,

I couldn't get away
with it.

Not after such a public
display of loss as today.

Not so brazenly.

The consortium is fragile.
It would be toppled.

And I'm simply not willing
to allow that to happen.

And I suspect
it's only a matter of time

before he makes a move
against me.

You want me to believe
that you have some
concern for me?

Then show it.

If you need something
to induce your men into action,

I know his crew hold an asset
from their last prize

that they deem
of great value.

What asset?
I don't know.

I don't know.

What I have found
in my experience

is the more elusive
the puzzle,

the more painfully obvious
its ultimate solution.

One just has to be
willing to see it.

Take our predicament,
for example.

You have a wealth of leads,

but no means of exploiting them
for anything other than a fee

and risking retaliation from
Ms. Guthrie in the process.

I, on the other hand,

have an unparalleled aptitude
for the management of a crew,

but am denied any
and every opportunity
to exploit the skill.

And there it is--
the solution, so obvious.

You will provide
all leads

derived from this place
directly to me.

I will judge
which to prosecute

and which too likely to rouse
Ms. Guthrie's ire.

Anne and I will then
take those chosen leads,

we'll procure a ship,
we'll recruit men,

and we'll create,
from nothing, a new crew

from which we three
will each hold a share.

You asked
for better captains...

I give you
Captain Jack Rackham.

And one more thing--

darling, I can understand
why you wouldn't want to
tell me about this,

but please know
that all I have ever wanted
for you is to be happy.

Come to bed
when you're through.

Was it close?

The vote.

It was.

I suppose
you warned me...

didn't you?

To avoid that course
through the shipping lanes.

Perhaps it was my hubris
that drove me to it.

To show you
I had it in me to lead.

But as I sit here,

I'm forced to consider
another possibility.

That course we charted...

perhaps none of us
would have thought
of it at all

had you not raised it
in the first place.

That you orchestrated it all.

The deaths,

the destruction,

the loss.

All to achieve
this very moment.

Is it possible a man
could do such a thing?

Congratulations, Captain.