All language subtitles for Alien.Abyss.S01E02.Allies.and.Adversaries.1080p.AMZN.WEB-DL.DDP2.0.H.264-NTb_track3_[eng]

For centuries, we've fantasized

about alien life
on other planets.

And because life
as we know it needs water,

we imagined seas on the moon,

rivers on Mars,

and lakes
beneath Europa's icy surface.

So far,
we've discovered only dust...

except on this
watery blue marble,

where inner space
hides creatures

as weird
as anything extraterrestrial.

There are oceans of oddballs
with strange shapes,

strange rituals,

and strange bedfellows

right here
in Earth's own "Alien Abyss."

Oceans, the great unknown.

To understand this weird world,

first you got to leave that
land brain of yours

on the beach
and dive right in.

Lesson number one--
forget what you already know,

because down here,
nothing is as it seems...

not a plant...

not a rock.

This won't kill you.

This surely will.

But in this
mysterious underworld,

being bizarre alone

won't win you
life's daily battles.

What you need is help
from a friend...

an accomplice,

or even a significant other.

Teamwork is the name
of the game.

And the stranger
the relationship, the better.

Yesterday's adversaries...

could today be your allies.

What do you picture
when you hear the words

"alien invasion"?

This?

Maybe this?

Or even...

Who--who are you?

We're from Mars.
Don't be afraid.

But did you think a small,
spiny sea creature

that's only as big
as a golf ball...

Cute, right?

Wrong.

Our story begins
in sunny California.

These folks don't know it,

but a pestilence is wreaking
havoc in their local seas.

Unearthly invaders
rule the seabed here.

And they devour everything.

Under their relentless attack,

the ocean floor is a desert.

But it wasn't always like this.

15 years ago,

giant kelp forests
covered these coastal seas.

Kelp were the OGs
of these California waters.

Their forests remove millions
of tonnes of carbon

from the atmosphere each year.

And many species flourished
within their foliage.

This was once a bustling
underwater metropolis,

and life was good.

The kelp's only annoyance
were sea urchins

that nibbled on their fronds.

But that was okay because
sea stars kept them in check.

However, that all changed
when higher sea temperatures

began killing the sea stars.

With them out of the picture,

urchin populations exploded.

Disaster for kelp.

Their soft fronds have
absolutely no defense

against urchin teeth
that can cut stone.

Today conquering urchin hordes

wipe out entire kelp forests...

creating what are
called urchin barrens.

Nothing can stop them.

Well, almost nothing.

There is a place
along this coast

where sea urchins finally
meet their match.

This is the realm
of the sea otter.

A marine hunter extraordinaire,

guardian of kelp forests,

and sea urchin connoisseur.

For these predators,

no hunt is easier
than an urchin hunt.

Tough spiny shells?
Not a problem.

Otters bite
through the underside,

where spines are shortest.

It's an all-you-can-eat buffet.

And the otters
make the most of it.

A single otter will polish off

up to 1,000 urchins each day.

That's enough
to keep the rampant urchins

from spreading unchecked.

Maybe through this
interspecies relationship,

kelp all along the coast
can get a respite

from pillaging urchins

and rediscover
their former glory...

Because where there are otters,

there is happier kelp
and healthier seas.

And that is how
the alien abyss works...

a complex web of relationships

where fortunes
are intertwined...

and help comes from
the most unexpected quarters.

But things aren't always
this complicated.

Some weird relationships are
much more straightforward...

like the one between
the snapping shrimp

and its neighbour, the goby.

The shrimp is
an obsessive burrower.

It digs all day,

clearing rubble away from
the entrance to its burrow.

It really doesn't do much else.

The shrimp even finds food
in the debris that it moves.

And all this while,

its neighbour just stands there
and watches.

But see, here's the twist.

The goby is
its personal bodyguard...

because the shrimp's
got a problem.

It's nearly blind

and useless
at detecting danger.

Case in point.

It's no good having
a fortified bunker

if you don't know exactly
when to duck in.

And that's
where the goby comes in.

With powerful bulbous eyes
to spot danger,

it's a perfect protector.

While the shrimp
goes about its business,

it keeps one of its sensitive
antennae on the goby.

Incoming!

In return, the little fish
wants to share the bunker.

And the shrimp is okay
with the arrangement.

It's the least you can do

for someone who's just
saved your life.

eard
of a toxic relationship?

Well,
in these mysterious depths,

that's actually a good thing.

Meet one half
of this deadly romance...

sea anemones.

No relation to their harmless
terrestrial namesakes.

Don't be fooled
by their benign looks,

because these things
are killers...

Much like their distant
free-moving cousins,

the jellyfish.

Armed with stinging nematocysts
on their tentacles,

anemones inject
a toxic chemical cocktail

into their victims...

which paralyze them.

This anemone has no time
for subtleties

and consumes its prey alive.

So, yeah,
an all-round nasty customer.

As these poor fish
will soon find out, too.

Wait for it.

Any moment now.

Strangely,
the anemone doesn't attack...

because
the clownfish-anemone alliance

is a love story for the ages.

These fish proliferate
the warmer shallow seas

around the world...

Always in partnership
with the anemones.

Their noxious affair
starts early.

Clownfish lay eggs in coral
niches close to anemones.

It's a surefire way
to keep egg burglars at bay.

They know better than to get
close to the vicious tentacles.

A week after hatching, young
clowns don't stick around.

All on its own,

this baby clownfish
attracts unwanted attention.

Eventually, something will come
along that wants to eat it.

The only way to survive

is to find its very own
toxic partner.

This anemone is perfect.

The clownfish is born
with a layer of slime

that makes it immune
to the anemone sting.

Safe from predators,
these stinging tentacles

become a sanctuary
for baby clownfish.

But it's a two-way street
down here.

In return,
when clownfish are older,

they chase away larger fish
that want to feed

on the anemone's tentacles.

It takes out the trash

and even delivers scraps
of food.

Without clownfish,
anemones often die.

But by means of this unique
partnership, everyone wins.

So, basically, friends turn up
to help when you're in need.

But spare a thought
for the loners,

the recluses, and the outcasts.

Making friends isn't easy

when you're just plain weird.

Remember when we said,

"These things are killers"?

Now let's take a closer look.

Closer still...

and hold.

That right there, stuck
in the anemone's vicious coils,

is a pearlfish.

These eel-like fish--

Hmm, try that again.

Pearlfish are found in the--

As you can see,

pearlfish are useless
at defending themselves.

Out in the open,

weird, alien-like killers
give him no chance.

This pearlfish desperately
needs a place to hide.

The rear end of a defenseless
deep-sea dweller

is just the place.

Right, we can't just
brush past that information.

Sea cucumber are large,
spineless beasties

that some would describe
as a "walking colon."

You'll soon find out why.

They're a simple
marine organism

with a no-frills lifestyle.

A leathery skin covers
a spongy, tubular body.

And inside, a digestive tract
with openings at each end.

At the top end, their fan-like
tube feet filter out

floating particles of algae,
tiny animals...

and organic matters
off the sea floor.

Which brings us to...

That's clean sand, by the way.

Poop-scooping
scientists calculated

that on just one reef,

sea cucumbers dump
five Eiffel Towers' weight

in sand every year.

Their words, not ours.

And that's not all.

The sea cucumber is basic.

But it's also basic.

When their gut
breaks down sand,

it creates calcium carbonate,

which they then poop out.

This lowers the acidity
of its surrounding water...

and helps coral form their
calcium carbonate skeletons.

So sea cucumbers are vital

for the health
of the planet's reefs.

They're real nice guys.

So nice, in fact, that when
the pearlfish wants sanctuary,

the sea cucumber welcomes it.

And the little fish

benefits
from this open-door policy.

It's safe in there
because most predators

find the sea cucumber
rather disgusting.

When it moves around
on the sea floor,

the pearlfish has access
to new feeding grounds

while still staying at home.

Food, lodging,
and a free ride...

now, that's a vacation.

But what the sea cucumber gets

out of this
strange relationship,

we'll never know.

The best relationshipse all about g

But what if the givers and
takers never meet each other...

never really interact
with each other?

In the eccentric world
of misfits,

that's still
a very important relationship,

like this one
between a hermit crab

and the maker
of the shell he's borrowed.

Hermit crabs are true nomads.

Wherever it goes,
its home goes, too.

But the shell
is just a hand-me-down.

Unlike many other
crab-like beings,

hermits can't grow their own.

So they form partnerships
with mollusks,

squishy, snail-like things.

Well, really just their shells,

and only after their owners
have discarded them.

It's prime real estate

because it's relatively light
and protects them from attack.

But for these crabs,

each shell is only
as good as the next one.

Every time
they outgrow their shell,

they must discard it
and move into a new one.

It's a relentless
lifelong quest.

But the world is changing
around them.

Suddenly they find themselves

surrounded by alien beings...

us humans.

And we are destroying
the only home

the hermit crab has ever known.

In the aftermath of cyclones,

beaches of Southeast Asia
are littered with trash.

It's a particularly rough time
for hermit crabs.

Shells are in short supply.

But among all this debris,

pragmatic hermits find
a solution.

With declining
mollusk population,

they've found a new,
completely oblivious partner...

Us.

Bottle caps,

measuring cups...

film roll containers.

Anything goes.

Soon, the beaches teem
with alien trash-robot hybrids,

half crab, half plastic.

They aren't exactly tailored
to the crabs' contours,

but no one's complaining.

Desperate times,
desperate measures.

Deep within the coral crevices
of the North Pacific...

Lives a creature
with a face for radio...

A beast that looks like it's
graduated from alien school...

But, in fact, lives a life

that's straight
out of the 1950s.

This male's mission--
find a wife.

With misshapen, crooked teeth,
mottled, bumpy skin,

and an unblinking stare,

the wolf eel won't be winning
any beauty pageants.

But it doesn't bother
about what the world thinks.

Only one opinion
truly matters...

that of this female wolf eel.

In the wolf eel world,

she is his, and he is hers

for now and forever.

Theirs is a tender,
old-fashioned affair

that is incredibly unusual
under the sea.

Old-fashioned or not,

what comes next should be
no surprise...

a baby boom.

Secure within
their intertwined coils

lies the fruits
of their relationship...

up to 10,000 newly laid eggs.

The loving male
now turns protector

of his unborn children.

For four long months,

the parents will guard
their precious cargo.

But it's a full-time job.

Hunger soon pushes the male
out of his cozy love nest.

Breakfast is served.

You can see why the eel's teeth

aren't in the best shape.

But every winter,

he'll replace his old
worn-out teeth with new ones.

Having eaten his fill,
he heads back to his lair

to swap places
with his partner.

That's right,
wolf eels only look unearthly.

Their everyday life
is decidedly not weird at all.

In fact, their whole life cycle
is pretty mundane.

Grow up...

find a partner...

put food on the table...

start a family...

over and over and over again

for the rest of their lives.

There's only one thing
that they don't have to do.

That is raise
their weird-looking,

but otherwise
unremarkable kids.

After hatching...

baby eels are on their own.

They head
into the North Pacific Ocean

looking to forge
their very own super-normal,

unweird, prosaic futures.

Allies

But there are some weirdos
in this alien abyss

that have nothing to give...

but specialize in mooching
off others.

Say hello to the freeloaders.

Take a moment
to consider the remora.

From below, it looks
like a fairly normal fish.

But from above...

This fish wears a permanent
alien suction disk helmet.

It's a marvel
of natural engineering.

The head disk is a device
that helps the remora

get past a crucial design flaw.

Without an air bladder
to control buoyancy...

it struggles
to do normal fish things,

like swim and stay afloat.

So, for transportation, gangs
of these suckerfish hang about,

waiting for a ride.

This shipwreck serves
as a station of sorts.

It's their
Grand Central Terminal.

Transit route number one--

reef sharks.

Reef sharks
are the express train.

They're fast swimmers,

and there's almost always
onboard dining.

Great for the remora
in a hurry.

But the travellers
have other options.

Transit route number two--

gigantic whale sharks

and manta rays.

They're more
like the cruise liner--

not as fast
but definitely roomier

and more likely
to travel long-distance.

It's a chance for remora

to get
to better feeding grounds

and even to find new mates.

Remoras
will even catch a lift...

on a dugong.

Really?

Might as well walk.

But sometimes
holding on can become tough.

But sensory organs
below the remora's sticky disk

tell them
when they lose traction,

which gives them time
to readjust.

Not everyone is thrilled with
this rideshare arrangement.

For ocean dwellers,
hydrodynamics is everything.

The ease of moving
through water

with as little drag
as possible...

is the cornerstone
of marine locomotion.

Clingy fish hanging off

kind of puts the brakes
on this.

The Romans were right when
they named these fish "remora,"

Latin for "hindrance."

Remoras are like hitchhikers.

They catch a free ride,

but eventually they get off.

But there are some freeloaders
that don't let up...

ever.

They spend their whole lives
scrounging off their hosts.

Take, for instance, barnacles.

Yeah, they can harmlessly stick
to rocks and stuff,

but they also have
a nasty habit

of sticking to living,
moving creatures...

forever.

It all starts here...

baby barnacles.

For a few brief weeks,
they swim free.

This part of their life,
this little part,

is called settling down.

It's when they decide
where they want to live

for the rest of their lives.

What these barnacle larvae want
are a modern mobile associate.

No one knows when
or how they climb aboard,

but they do.

Turtles offer a good surface
to work with.

And, of course, these guys.

Actually, these are manatees,
not dugongs...

just as slow, just as easy
for fledgling freeloaders

to grab a hold.

But the best lodging sites
of all...

whales.

These living,
breathing underwater blimps

are moving islands
of flesh and blubber.

For larvae wanting
a contemporary space

to settle...

whales are the real deal.

Using cementing enzymes,

they clamp down on spots
like the head and chin,

where water flow is consistent,

so that when they pass
through plankton-rich waters,

they can grab tasty titbits,
like so.

Of course,
this was filmed on a rock.

I mean, there's no way our
camera operator's gonna get

that close to a whale.

Trust us, barnacles work
the same either way.

As the whales migrate
throughout the year...

the barnacles get a free ride
to nutrient-rich waters,

feeding all the time.

And what of the whales?

Well, they don't come
out of this relationship

as complete chumps.

Whales fight over mates,

and hard barnacles
are like brass knuckles.

It adds an edge
to their punches,

and sometimes even acts
as armour plating,

which helps them
take a blow or two.

So remora are annoying
but temporary.

Barnacles are lifelong
but don't really do any harm.

Just freeloaders
being opportunistic,

or is this a slippery slope?

Enter the harlequin shrimp...

a male and a female
out to get some food.

First things first,
catch a ride.

Sea stars could be
the perfect shrimp transport...

but the bizarre shrimp takes
the concept of catching a ride

way too literally...

because sea stars
are not just their way

to get from point A to point B.

It also happens
to be their favourite chow.

That's right,
these dainty shrimp

are a criminal couple.

Talk about taking onboard
dining to the next level.

What better way
to keep your meal fresh

than jumping on it...

and chomping away at it...

all while still riding it?

However,
some sea stars have a strategy

to get the deadly duo
off their backs.

While ravenous shrimp focus
on eating their fill,

a desperate sea star
sheds its arm...

A ruse to divert
the killers' attention.

It might just be able
to sneak away.

If the plan works, it can
later regrow its lost arm...

but it isn't that lucky.

The sea star's shed arm

only momentarily distracts
the killer couple.

They're right back on it.

So that escalated quickly.

As far as
unhealthy relationships go,

losing an arm in the process

seems just about par
for the course.

Where some see
hideous alien monsters...

others see friends...

and vice versa.

It's all a matter
of perspective down here.

Out on the sea floor,
crabs are patsies.

Their shells give off
an illusion of invincibility.

But they're just
not always enough.

Enter the fire urchin.

Armed with venom-tipped spines,

they're all-round
vicious customers.

But for some, these
prickly freaks are saviours.

Their spines make

for an impenetrable
mobile fortress...

a boon
for the beleaguered crabs,

like these little guys.

Zebra crabs
ride their fiery chariots

all day and all night,

never once getting off.

The urchin protects them
from potential killers

and carries them around.

And how do these freeloaders
show their gratitude?

By slowly,
imperceptibly gnawing away

on urchin tissue for food.

However,
the damage is so minimal

that it doesn't kill
the urchins.

But the crab family soon find
a way to redeem themselves...

By turning this eccentric
relationship on its head.

This crab's modified back legs
have just one purpose...

To haul urchins around.

Having a venomous pincushion
for a headdress

keeps predators at bay.

Unlike their parasitic cousins,
the zebra crabs,

the carrier crab
isn't just a taker.

It's also a giver.

In exchange
for full-time protection,

the crab carries the urchin
around to new feeding grounds

faster than the urchin
could go on its own tube feet.

It's like having
a chauffeur on call...

the only downside being you
go where the chauffeur wants

and not the other way round.

And because you're wondering,

yes, this means it's possible

to have a crab
riding an urchin...

riding a crab.

Carrying bodyguards around
for protection is so effective

that yet another crab
has picked up

on this nifty trick, too.

This pom-pom crab's
oddly shaped pincers

are, in fact,
not pincers at all.

These alien,
tentacle-like appendages

are actually deadly anemones.

Remember them?

Jellyfish family,
venom-tipped...

killer.

The defenseless crab
knows all this, too...

which is why it holds
two small anemone clumps

in its front pincers
like a freaky cheerleader.

Perfect to ward off anyone
that comes too close.

And that's not all.

In return,
when the crab forages,

the anemones get food scraps
and more oxygen

from the flowing water.

For a change,
this story has a happy ending.

The crab-anemone collab
is a prime example

of two completely
different organisms

getting along just fine.

There are other alliances
in this alien abyss,

where predators and their prey

set aside their differences
for a common good.

In the depths
of the Earth's own alien abyss,

there are some that have
cracked the code to survival.

It's this...

not every killer
is out to get you...

So long as you are willing
to help them out...

because predators have problems
of their own...

ectoparasites.

As is the norm
in these alien oceans,

weird problems warrant
weirder solutions.

Cleaning stations...

designated "no kill" safe zones

where an enterprising bunch
of tiny oddballs

run a cleaning service.

And their shop
is now open for business.

This glass shrimp has
its first customer of the day--

a pufferfish.

The shrimp gets started,

gorging on parasites
and dead skin

from the fish's body.

The puffer must rein in
its natural hunting instinct...

Because a shrimp this size
could be an ideal snack.

Thanks to the reef's
unspoken peace pact...

the shrimp can totally
concentrate on the job at hand.

Just above,

domino damselfish
hover in anticipation...

waiting for the shrimp
to flush out parasites.

And now for the tricky bit--
the deep clean.

The gills are a parasite's
favourite hiding spots.

Left unchecked, they can infect
and even kill the puffer.

But not if the cleaner shrimp
has its way.

It picks them off expertly,

making sure to get into
all the nooks and crannies.

On other cleaning stations
around the world,

business is always brisk,

Specialist cleaners attend
to busier clients on the go.

Cleaner wrasses remove dead
and damaged scales...

And even simulate
mucus production,

often the first line
of fish immune defense system.

Most importantly
for the clients,

it probably feels fantastic.

Who doesn't love a backrub?

Not even this mysterious,

deep-sea-dwelling
freak of nature...

the mola mola.

This slow-moving,
tailless giant

looks decidedly otherworldly.

But he's a distant cousin
of the tiny pufferfish.

Only, he's three meters long

and weighs a tonne.

That's almost as big
as a small car.

He usually likes to hunt
in the deepest, darkest chasms

of tropical oceans.

But today
he's come up to the surface...

Because today is spa day.

A bit of exfoliation,
a bit of sun,

and to get rid
of teeming parasites.

Cleaners like these bannerfish

enjoy a parasite banquet...

because each mola mola can have
up to 54 species of parasites

on them at any given time.

If it weren't
for the dedicated cleaners,

these blood suckers
would infest the giant fish

and cause them a great deal
of discomfort.

In the hands of the tactless,
it can be a dangerous job.

But years of evolution
has helped these cleaners

master the fine art
of getting a meal

without becoming a meal.

Getting along and working
together for mutual benefit

is the surest path to survival
in this alien abyss.

When you're small
and powerless,

banding together with others
of your kind

is not just advantageous,
it's necessary.

On the sea floor
around Indonesia,

a dark cloud hangs about...

An advancing alien swarm
that's bewitching,

hypnotic, ominous.

These are baby
striped eel catfish.

Advancing in unison,

their movements
mimic a larger beast.

It strikes fear
into the hearts of predators...

ones that would readily attack

and devour
a lone young catfish.

Confident
in their invincibility,

the swarm begins to feed.

They completely work
over the seafloor

in a mesmerizing
steamroller fashion.

Fish at the rear swimming
over the ones at the front,

only to be replaced again.

This way, they leave no bit
of seabed untouched

in their search
for invertebrates and algae.

While the ones at the front
are facedown in the sand,

the ones at the back
keep an eye out for predators.

A ribbon eel
is the only one that dares.

But young catfish
have a secret weapon--

toxic pectoral
and dorsal spines.

And the eel
gets a mouthful of it.

Back to formation
for the young escapee.

And back to the drawing board
for the chastened eel.

Tightly packed shimmering,
shapeshifting shoals

can confuse your typical,
run-of-the-mill predators.

But can it hold its own

against some
of the smartest brains

on the planet?

For far too long, we've
searched for intelligent life

above our heads,

when we should have been
beaming signals downwards

into our oceans...

because that's
where you'll find

the second-largest brains
on the planet...

with an IQ greater than that
of chimps and gorillas.

Alien intelligence?

You're looking
at the leading contender--

orcas.

Their remarkable intellect
has helped them rule

all of our planet's oceans--

that's more than 70%
of Earth's surface...

For more than 6 million years,

which is far longer
than we've walked the planet.

Maybe they really
are hyperintelligent beings.

Not convinced?

Well, let's put their smarts
to the test.

Introducing
the test subjects...

Hungry Norwegian orcas.

And here's what they're after--

large shoals of herring--

fatty, juicy,
rich source of protein.

And now here's the problem.

As we discovered earlier,
tightly packed,

fast-moving small fish are
spectacularly hard to catch.

Not least
when you're a 6-tonne beast

in a sea with no cover.

It's a code they must crack,

and their time starts now.

Step one, turn on
their secret superpower--

echolocation.

Pinging out sound waves
and catching it back,

they get a mental picture
of anything in their way

and even see inside it...

like an X-ray.

The herring
are tantalizingly close.

Step two, trap the small fish.

Orcas turn to their most
potent weapon--

their brains.

No one knows exactly
how they communicate,

but soon,
orca brains are syncing up.

Working as one, the pod pushes
them towards the shallows.

Now the small fish are stuck
between the sea floor,

the shore, and the orcas.

Step three,
immobilize fast-moving fish

with their very own stun gun...

Their tails.

Powerful tail slaps shock
the living daylights

out of the small fish.

And the slap-happy orcas
pick them off one by one.

Game, set, and match.

Social beings--tick.

Problem-solving brains--
tick.

Phenomenal superpowers--

tick and tick.

So, you see, these giants
could easily be aliens...

who've mastered a strange
and inhospitable environment...

to become the kings
of these alien oceans.

Working together works...

because in the end,
every critter that lives

in these ungodly depths

has the very same goal--

survival.

And as is the norm,
stranger the problem...

weirder the alliance...

in this alien abyss.