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"We come in peace."

We come in peace... that's why we're here.

Isn't that the whole idea of Starfleet?

Hey, I taught you that.

You don't trust me, Captain?

I trust you with my life, Commander Burnham,

but it doesn't change the fact that you're lost.

Very lost.

Technically, we would be lost.

How long until that storm

comes crashing down on us?

I estimate one hour,

17 minutes, 22 seconds.

Which is why I've made sure we're not lost.

The map says the well is this way, Captain.

This drought's going to last 89 years.

The Crepusculans are facing extinction as a species.

See those egg sacs?

Those are their offspring.

They've survived here for over a thousand years, Michael.

Right, and if we don't do something now,

they won't live another thousand hours.

The ambient radiation

from a nearby drilling accident dried out their water table.

If we can get in and out without making contact,

we can steer clear of General Order One.

And there is the well.

I stand corrected.

Ye of little faith.

Oh, never had a doubt.

Tell me what I need to break through this bedrock.

.7-second field burst at level setting 13.5.

Georgiou to Shenzhou.

Two to transport.

The storm is moving faster than I thought.

The ship won't be able to pick up our signatures.

Unless we can contact Lieutenant Saru,

we could be trapped here until it's over.

Let's take a walk.

Follow my footsteps, Michael, even lines.

Why? Captain, where are we going?

It's your turn to trust me, Number One.

But now we're really lost.

We're far too small to be seen with the naked eye.

And you can't set a course without a star.

Is it wise to be heading

- away from the village? - It's hard to imagine

you've served under me for seven years.

I think it's time

that we talked about you having your own command.

I'm grateful, Captain.

Though I would be significantly more so

if I thought we had any chance of ever returning to the ship.

Just keep walking, Michael.

What will you do

if you were stuck here for 89 years?

A likely scenario...

unless we die here in the desert.

But say you lived.

As a xenoanthropologist, I could reveal myself

to the natives, learn their culture,

try to fit in... if possible.

And you, Captain?

What will you do if we're trapped here for 89 years?

That's easy. I'd escape.

These are our footprints.

You've walked us in a circle.

Not exactly a circle.

How did they find us?

I set a star.

- Synced and corrected by martythecrazy - - www.addic7ed.com -

First Officer's Log, Stardate 1207.3.

On Earth, it's May 11, 2256,

a Sunday.

The crew of the U.S.S. Shenzhou

has been called to the edge of Federation space

to investigate damage done to one of our interstellar relays.

Blast burns around the hole are inconclusive.

Were they caused by an asteroid,

or was it deliberately destroyed

to limit Starfleet communications?

And if so, by whom?

Despite the risks of our mission,

I remain optimistic.

It's hard not to be in the face of such beauty...

in this case, a binary star system.

Around these two suns,

ice, dust and gasses collide

to form the planets future generations will call home.

A humbling reminder that all life

is born from chaos and destruction.

Based on initial readings,

I would say the relay doesn't appear

to have been damaged naturally.

I don't like the look of that.

Well, keep looking.

Well, the comment was figurative;

I'm expressing concern.

Finish your scans so you can express facts instead.

The bridge is yours, Mr. Saru.

Yes...

Commander.

Yes, Number One.

Your chief science officer is worried.

Something took a bite out of our relay.

Saru thinks it was malicious.

Saru's Kelpien... he thinks everything's malicious.

What do you think?

Any idea what it is?

By all indications, nothing intelligent.

But...?

Starfleet's reputation for tech hygiene is exemplary.

When a relay goes down,

the Federation sends a ship to fix it.

You think someone's trying to get our attention?

If they are, they have.

Lieutenant Saru, what do we have?

Ah. I have taken the initiative of keeping us

at maximum scanning distance

in case of anything threatening out there, Captain.

Yes. Number One tells me you suspect foul play.

Despite the first officer's constant need

to dismiss my ideas...

She apparently agrees with you.

Really?

I'm shocked as well.

Ensign Connor,

agreement between my senior officers.

Note the date and time.

Noted, Captain.

Is this amount of sarcasm

always necessary?

Necessary? No.

But I do like it.

There is something else out there.

What do you have, Saru?

Recalibrating sensors.

Electronic alignment in process.

Active scans are being deflected.

I'm having trouble locating the source.

So something's out there,

but no one can tell me where or what it is.

Ah, wait.

I have it.

No. Recalibrating.

Any time now, Mr. Saru.

I have it.

Magnify.

Is that what damaged our relay?

What am I looking at?

Object of unknown origin.

Let's get more specific.

I'm unable to bring it into focus.

Number One?

Range is 2,000 kilometers.

Bearing 358 mark 269.

Roughly 150 meters long, tucked into that accretion disk.

Almost directly below us.

It's in a sensor dead zone.

Some kind of scattering field is confounding the ship's ability

to translate the image.

As science officer,

I can provide a far more concrete and in-depth analysis

than simply reading data off a monitor.

But considering it's scrambling our optical processors,

how are we going to be able to see it?

Thoughts, Number One?

With such little data, I'd prefer not to speculate.

Oh, I will. It's lurking.

The scattering field it's emitting suggests intent.

We see something we don't understand

and instantly cast judgment?

Maybe it's lost.

Maybe it's afraid to show us its whole self.

Hiding, but maybe hoping to be found.

Here we are, speculating.

I respectfully recommend we leave it alone.

I'm not sure we have much choice.

We can't lock on to it, and we don't have a shuttle

maneuverable enough to navigate the ring.

I'll go.

All I need is a thruster pack.

With the high levels of radiation

kicking off those binaries, she'll have 20 minutes

until her DNA starts to unravel like noodles.

Like noodles?

I'll be back in 19. A flyby.

It seems a waste of the ship's

resources. What will be gained?

You do understand that being afraid

of everything means you learn nothing.

There's no opportunity to discover,

- to explore. - And here I thought

we were doing a deep-space communication relay audit.

You're both right.

Saru, go with her.

- Captain! - Captain!

Best to keep variables

to a minimum. I wouldn't want

to put my colleague at risk.

And you, Mr. Saru, are you equally

happy not to be put at risk?

Oh, on any occasion, Captain.

You realize,

once you reach that scattering field,

you could be cut off from all communication.

We've come all this way, Captain.

It would be... irresponsible

to leave whatever that is unknown.

Just a flyby.

Just a flyby.

Commencing airlock

depressurization sequence.

Commander Burnham, this is Ensign Danby Connor.

On behalf of Captain Georgiou and the entire crew

of the U.S.S. Shenzhou,

we'd like to welcome you to flight 819

with non-stop service to the "object of unknown origin."

The temperature outside is a brisk minus-260 degrees Celsius.

We are forecasting some mild debris,

but anticipate a smooth ride.

This is Commander Burnham.

Commencing reconnaissance mission

to field void and unknown object.

Data collection is on and nominal.

All lights are green.

Establishing interlink frequency

with Commander Burnham's EV.

Channel clear...

and ready to transmit.

Confirming six-second directional thrust

for saucer realignment.

Commencing final prelaunch system checks.

nominal.

nominal.

nominal.

active.

Filters at 0.01% saturation.

Preflight checklist complete.

The object is 2,000 kilometers...

Computer, enable igniter.

Ten seconds to thruster ignition.

Ten, nine, eight,

seven, six, five,

four, three, two, one.

Body scan on line, heart rate

79 and rising, BP 130/70.

That's a little elevated for her.

She's having fun.

Almost to the debris field, Captain.

Understood.

Michael, watch your time.

19 minutes, not a nanosecond longer.

Aye, Captain.

I'm fully aware.

Boost signal.

Unable to comply. Scattering field.

It must be interfering with comms.

Mission clock at 17 minutes,

30 seconds.

Interference is starting

to degrade resolution.

Routing additional power

to subspace antenna.

Shenzhou, do you copy?

Distance to object 1,000 kilometers and closing.

Shenzhou, do you copy?

Implementing automatic course correction.

Hello.

Shenzhou, are you able to see this?

Michael, can you hear me? Acknowledge.

Michael? Can you hear me?

Acknowledge.

There's just too much interference.

Shenzhou, do you copy?

Data Collection Unit, are you there?

Internal computer on line.

Good. Mission time?

12 minutes, 58 seconds.

Plenty of time to take a peek.

Even from this distance, it's clearly not debris.

12 minutes and 48 seconds until maximum radiation exposure.

The commander is less than ten meters from the outermost

edge of the scattering field.

I can't remember who said sculptures are

crystallized spirituality.

Headlamp.

But I see what they meant.

This is Burnham in the blind.

I'm above the object, which is old.

Centuries old.

It's difficult to tell if it was constructed or carved.

The only word to effectively describe it is...

wow.

But I'll try to be more precise.

Its surface has the appearance of stone

with an exoskeleton of metal alloy.

Incredibly intricate.

The construction and design are nothing short of astounding.

I wish you could see what I'm seeing.

It is sublime.

It's impossible to discern a practical purpose.

Going to land on it, get a closer look.

Nice and easy.

Hold on.

My presence has triggered some sort of motion response.

ten minutes, 15 seconds.

Warning. Proximity alert.

Scanning for database recognition.

Klingon.

I'm Commander Burnham

of the United Federation of....

Still no sign of Commander Burnham.

Mission clock

runs out in 15 seconds.

There's still too much interference.

Initiating...

I have Number One.

Telemetry only.

Blood pressure is 70 and falling.

She won't make it unless we get her back now.

Transporter Control.

Do we have her, Mr. Weeton?

Pattern integrity's too weak, Captain.

Saru, get a lock on her. Boost her signal.

Captain, there is no signal.

You better get me a signal.

Remotely fire her jetpack.

She's off line.

She's floating free.

Engineering. Tractor beam?

Can't get a lock. We're running manual calculations.

The scattering field is still a problem, Captain.

We can't transport her until she clears it.

She'll soon exhibit symptoms

of acute radiation syndrome.

She's not gonna last much longer.

Hang on.

Shenzhou, please respond.

Commander Burnham?

Commander, please respond.

Control to Commander Burnham.

Commander, do you read?

Please respond.

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Pupil Burnham.

Pupil Burnham.

14 solar years.

Klingon social order rests upon?

Inviolable honor/shame dynamic.

Correct. Klingon homeworld Qo'noS.

Unwelcoming to the Federation.

Correct. Klingon political order.

24 great houses.

Correct. Location of the most recent Klingon terror raid.

Unacceptable duration between query and correct response.

Number of survivors at the Human-Vulcan science outpost

at Doctari Alpha.

Unacceptable duration between query and correct response.

Number of survivors at Doctari Alpha.

No.

Unacceptable response.

- Number of survivors... - Please.

Stop!

Program paused.

Sarek.

I'm sorry.

I can do better.

When emotion brings us ghosts from the past,

only logic can root us in the present.

Maybe I can try to learn Vulcan.

To be quicker with my answers.

Your human tongue is not the problem.

It is your human heart.

Good. You're awake.

I was dreaming.

Oh? What about?

Klingons.

How did I get here?

We transported you back aboard three hours ago.

Three hours?

Antiproton therapy regimen incomplete.

- Commander, what are you doing? - Session terminated prematurely.

- Medical Emergency - There's no time.

Commander, wait. The recombination process

is nowhere near finished.

I need you back in the antiproton chamber.

Do you understand the effect of genetic unspooling?

You don't want to die that way.

Commander!

The binaries are kicking off

serious QEs up and down the spectrum.

Targeting gets hot, but I still

can't tell what I'm grabbing onto.

I want to know what's out there, people.

Okay, let's go around the horn again, by the numbers.

What's going on?

Number One, you should be in sickbay.

What...

Have they made contact?

Who's "they"?

There are Klingons out there.

We need to go to red alert.

Michael.

Almost no one has seen a Klingon in a hundred years.

I have. One attacked me on that object.

Check my helmet cam.

The footage was corrupted.

Internal sensors show that the commander has entered the bridge

in an irradiated state.

Without immediate treatment,

her condition will most certainly be terminal.

He was warrior caste.

His-his EV suit bore a Klingon house insignia.

She also has a grade-three concussion.

I'm not delusional.

This has nothing to do with a concussion.

Philippa...

there are Klingons.

Red alert.

Tell me what happened.

He ambushed me.

I hit my thruster pack to get away.

I somehow knocked him into his blade.

I killed him.

But that object could be hiding a Klingon raiding party,

obscured behind that scattering field.

If there are Klingons in this sector,

they may be responsible for the damage to our relay.

If there are Klingons in this sector,

we should withdraw immediately.

This is Federation space.

Retreat is not an option.

Whatever is over there

needs to show itself.

If it's hiding Klingons, we've got to flush them out.

Target phase cannons on the object.

We cannot destroy another culture's property on a whim.

I didn't say anything about destroying it.

Let's make them think we're going to attack.

Target the object.

We're locked on.

Something is scanning us.

They've detected our weapons signature.

Wait.

Impossible.

No warp signatures detected, Captain.

Then where did they come from?

Mr. Gant, disengage phase-cannon targeting.

Number One, get to sickbay.

I need you fixed up and back on the bridge, stat.

Mr. Januzzi, contact Starfleet Command.

Send an encoded message.

Tell them we have engaged the Klingons.

Unidentified Klingon vessel,

this is the Federation Starship Shenzhou.

Please respond.

Unidentified Klingon vessel,

this is the Federation Starship Shenzhou. Please respond.

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Unidentified Klingon vessel,

this is the Federation Starship Shenzhou. Please respond.

Unidentified Klingon vessel,

this is the Federation Starship Shenzhou.

Please respond.

Is there any chance they can't hear us?

You're transmitting on every subspace channel there is.

Your orders, Commander?

Any response?

None.

Commander, there is something

I'd like to show you.

Their hull is covered in hollow, ornamental, metallic pods,

thousands of them, tightly interlocked,

forming a kind of... armor.

Not the most efficient defense.

I suspect its purpose is more symbolic than practical.

They contain Klingon biological material

in various states of decay.

Remote dating is wildly divergent.

Some bones date back thousands of years,

others only hours old.

Their entire ship is covered with coffins.

Commander, the captain listens to you.

Tell her.

We must withdraw.

I'm afraid that's no longer possible.

Your world has food chains.

Mine does not.

Our species map is binary.

We are either predator or prey.

My people were hunted.

Bred. Farmed.

We are your livestock of old.

We were biologically determined for one purpose

and one purpose alone:

to sense the coming of death.

I sense it coming now.

The Klingon flagship has a stealth mode.

It's some kind of cloaking screen,

unlike anything we've ever seen, Admiral.

There may be more vessels out there than we know.

We've reached out with every form

of friendship greeting Starfleet has.

They're blocking our hails.

Uh, it feels like a setup.

Maybe our relay got too close for Klingon comfort,

and they destroyed it to lure us out here.

You remember my first officer

Michael Burnham?

Next time, you might try not disturbing

the property of a warrior race

we've hardly spoken to for a hundred years.

Our only choice now is to navigate this situation

with as much finesse as possible.

Admiral, if I may.

The ideal outcome for any Klingon interaction is battle.

They're relentlessly hostile, sir.

It's in their nature.

The Federation and the Klingon Empire

have always been on the cold side of war.

We've had only fleeting run-ins with them for a century.

And now you presume

to know their motivation

because it is "in their nature"?

Considering your background, I would think

you're the last person to make assumptions based on race.

With respect, it would be unwise to confuse race and culture.

The Europa and all fleet vessels within range

will be at your coordinates in two hours.

Hold your position.

Do nothing absent provocation, understood?

Understood, Admiral.

Signal terminated.

That went well.

What's the mood outside?

Saru is the only one talking.

He strongly believes we should about-face.

There is a space station at Eagle-Twelve,

three light-years away.

The Andorian colony at Gamma-Hydra is six.

Shenzhou is their only line of defense if the Klingons attack.

Not if... when.

I have to hope that whatever happens here

can serve as a bridge between our civilizations.

That's the diplomat in you talking.

What does the soldier say?

Nothing good.

Captain to the bridge.

Status?

Massive photonic activity on the Klingon object, Captain.

Output is over one billion lumens per square meter.

Optical sensors overloading.

Bring plasmatic filters on line.

Rerouting power.

Is that a weapon?

It seems to be some sort of signal emitter.

Where are my filters?

They're at 100%, Captain.

Initiating emergency shutdown.

That noise is some kind of

electromagnetic subspace wave-form.

Narrowing channel range.

Adjusting orientation to minimize dispersal.

Somebody turn it down.

Aye, Captain.

- All the way down. - Acoustics are muted.

That's the ship's superstructure in sympathetic vibration.

It's a signal pulse.

Is there a message?

This may be the message.

Captain, what if they're calling for the same thing we are?

Backup.

Long-range sensors to the maximum, Saru.

If more Klingons are on their way,

I want as much notice as possible.

Permission to leave the bridge, Captain?

- Are you kidding? - It's relevant.

Granted.

Ensign, get me a status report, deck by deck.

Aye, Captain.

Computer.

Working.

Open dedicated subspace channel 222AA7.

Use of this frequency requires

- diplomatic authorization. - Voiceprint authorize.

Burnham... Michael.

Confirmed.

Commander Burnham.

Hello, Sarek.

I'm happy to see you.

So many years.

And still you allow emotional considerations

to impede your logic.

They inform my logic.

I need your help.

I assume the timing of the call was not coincidental.

The quadrant reports a new star in the sky.

What have you done out there, on the edge of Federation space?

We've encountered the Klingons.

How rare to meet one's own demons in the flesh.

I killed one.

In light of the fact that they killed your parents,

some might think that only fair.

However,

if a death was necessary,

I am satisfied it was not yours.

I'm most certain you did not call me for emotional solace.

We're facing off.

No fire has been exchanged.

But they didn't turn on that beacon

until Starfleet was on its way to our position.

I think they're summoning more of their kind.

An odd proposition given that their empire

has been in disarray for generations.

But you are describing something out of the ordinary.

Restraint in the face of conflict.

When a civilization acts in opposition to its instincts,

it may be under the influence of something, or someone, new.

Great unifiers are few and far between,

but they do come.

Often, such leaders will need a profound cause

for their followers to rally around.

A war.

Be very careful that your assumptions

are not being driven by your past.

This isn't about what happened, Sarek.

It's what's happening now.

How did the Vulcans achieve diplomatic relations

with the Klingons?

That is a solution particular to us.

One cannot assume it would work on a ship commanded by humans.

Sarek... please.

I caution you, be considered

with how you use this information.

You cannot save lives that have already been lost.

Tell me.

How did you keep the Klingons at bay?

Engineering, report.

Internal damage, negative.

Core is 100%.

Captain, we have to fire on them.

Hit that ship with everything we've got.

Absolutely not. They haven't powered weapons.

They don't appear to pose an imminent threat.

The Klingon threat is always imminent and inevitable.

- Tactical log's ready. - Thank you, Mr. Gant.

I'd like to remind you, we're wildly outgunned.

240 years ago, near H'Atoria,

a Vulcan ship crossed into Klingon space.

The Klingons attacked immediately.

They destroyed the vessel.

Vulcans don't make the same mistake twice.

From then on, until formal relations were established,

whenever the Vulcans crossed paths with Klingons,

the Vulcans fired first.

They said "hello" in a language the Klingons understood.

Violence brought respect.

Respect brought peace.

Captain. We have to give the Klingons a Vulcan "hello."

If their intention is to attack,

balling up our fists won't dissuade them.

It would be logical for you to take into account

my success rate during our seven years together,

and execute my plan without further challenge

before we're dragged into war.

Starfleet doesn't fire first.

That's all, Number One.

We have to.

In my ready room. Now.

Lieutenant Commander, you have the bridge.

Yes, Captain.

Computer, privacy.

Captain...

How dare you challenge me?

I apologize for my insubordination.

Don't you realize that kind of talk can destabilize a crew?

Don't underestimate them.

I've overseen their exercises;

they're ready for battle.

Battle is not a simulation.

It's blood and screams and funerals.

I taught you better than this.

We don't start shooting on a hunch,

and we don't take innocent lives. Period.

I understand your history with the Klingons.

My commitment to this course of action

is not emotional.

We target its neck, cut off its head...

You're still injured.

- You're not thinking clearly... - Thousands of lives will be

- lost because of failure to act. - Whose lives?

Victims of your imaginary war?

And your life, Captain.

Yours.

Stand down, Commander Burnham.

That's an order.

You're right.

I may not be myself.

Easy, Michael.

I'm sorry.

You're relieved, Mr. Saru.

Where is the captain?

I provided her with Klingon intel

from a personal source on Vulcan.

She's passing it to the admiral.

Weapons, slot a pair of photon torpedoes in the tubes

and compute a firing solution

targeting the neck of that Klingon ship.

Is the plan to fire on the Klingons, Commander?

We have to be ready in case that's what the captain decides.

Are you acting on the captain's orders?

I'm your superior officer.

We are in a high-risk scenario.

Question chain of command again and I'll remove you.

Commander. It's just...

Your breathing is elevated.

Perspiration's visible at your hairline.

I fear what you are doing

betrays the wishes of our captain.

Target phasers.

Take your station, Commander.

This is mutiny.

Move, Saru. Tactical.

We're locked on.

Fire!

Belay that order!

Captain, please.

I'm trying to save you.

I'm trying to save all of you.

Stand down.

Captain! Incoming!

Warp signatures detected.

Is it Starfleet?

No.

Those ships are Klingon.

- Synced and corrected by martythecrazy - - www.addic7ed.com -

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