Original subtitles

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 Dragons 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 Dragons 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 Dragons attacked you.

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

Tell me why the Dragons 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 probe will change everything.

If the Dragons 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 Dragon 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.

Now 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 Dragons 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 Dragons 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 Dragon'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 reprogram them?

Reprogram 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 reprogrammed.

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 enough 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 handheld 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 Dragons 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, Dragon, 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.