All language subtitles for AD18

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 Dragans 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 Dragans
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 Dragans
attacked you.

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

Tell me why the Dragans
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 will probably
change everything.

If the Dragans 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
Dragan 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.

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 Dragans
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 Dragans 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 Dragan'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
re-program them?

Re-program 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
re-programmed.

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
nothing 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 hand-held
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 Dragans
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, Dragan,
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.