Previously on Star Trek: Discovery:
My captain.
My friend.
Gone.
It is our ruling that the defendant
be stripped of rank
and hereby sentenced to imprisonment for life.
The only other female Michael
I ever heard of was the mutineer.
You're not her, are you?
The Michael Burnham on my ship.
Eight thousand one hundred and eighty-six.
I would like to extend an official invitation
to you to join the Discovery.
We are creating a new way to fly.
An organic propulsion system.
Hold tight.
You're in Ilari. The moons of Andoria.
All those planets, all those places,
and you're home like it never happened.
What the hell could do this to a dozen Klingons?
Run.
Set phasers to kill!
So, is our new guest settled in?
Snug as a bug in a rug.
_
You helped start a war. Don't you wanna help me end it?
Burnham, Michael.
Temporary assignment to science division,
U.S.S. Discovery.
Rank: None.
Uniform synthesis is complete.
Computer, cancel mirror.
You look smart.
It's a lot less scary than your convict suit.
Like a clean slate, right?
It's not quite as easy as that.
Oh, this was sent for you.
You were in the shower when the, um, ping went off. That's how...
I was fully clothed, so, I thought,
well, I'll save you a trip to the depot.
Tilly.
Yes. Less. Less extraneous words.
It's not gonna shut up till you open it.
Burnham, Michael.
Do you accept the last will and testament
of Captain Philippa Georgiou?
I'm sorry, I didn't know.
Michael Burnham to the bridge.
I'll see you in engineering.
Bridge. Direct.
As first officer, I take pride in knowing every name
and assignment on the crew manifest.
You were to be on the prison transport shuttle
that left yesterday.
Captain Lorca offered me an opportunity.
I can tell by your threat ganglia that you weren't consulted.
The captain keeps his own counsel.
Had he inquired,
I'd have suggested the duty roster
lacked any opening for a mutineer.
"A valuable asset."
- That's what you called me. - I was speaking hypothetically.
Politely.
And as someone who was certain I would never see you again.
You can tell your threat ganglia to relax.
I'm only here to help.
My ganglia remain unconvinced.
Scanners. Expedite my targeting sweep. Multi-spectrum.
- Laterals included. - Aye, sir.
Scanners confirm two Klingon Birds-of-Prey.
Targets heading away at offset vectors.
Charge main phasers to full.
Let's take 'em out before they know we're here.
Charging.
- Vectors received. - We've been located are being scanned.
Keep the warp engines topped hot. Landry, we're waiting.
Solution calculated. Firing main phasers.
First target destroyed.
- Second Bird-of-Prey still in. - Take it out!
- They're firing torpedoes. - Shields to max.
- Diverting power. - Commander.
We're all dead.
Very nice.
Very polite.
The Discovery is now the only Starfleet ship
with a displacement-activated spore hub drive.
Which means, when it's up and running,
we will be able to materialize anywhere in the known universe.
Behind enemy lines, above the Klingon homeworld.
Anywhere.
But we will be alone.
We will not have backup.
There's just us.
And we get one chance...
to get it right.
We'll do better next time, sir.
It would be hard to do worse.
Mr. Saru, run the simulation again. And again.
- Burnham, with me. - You heard the captain.
Computer, reload simulation.
Working.
We're the tip of the spear in a science vessel
filled with wide-eyed explorers.
- You know what they need us to do? - They need us to win.
They need us to survive,
Burnham.
Wanna know how you're gonna help me do that?
I'm happy to assist Lieutenant Stamets
with the refinement of the spore drive.
Said the xenoanthropologist.
I also studied quantum mechanics at the Vulcan Science Academy, sir.
I know. But I'm gonna put you to better use.
These are some of the deadliest weapons in the galaxy.
I study war.
And this is where I hone my craft.
I try to learn from the best.
Here.
Now this I think you'll find uniquely interesting.
You've met once before.
It has a natural aversion to light.
Same as me.
Why would you keep something so dangerous onboard your own ship?
That thing killed a dozen Klingons on the Glenn,
and there's not a scratch on it from their bat'leths.
If we're gonna win this thing,
if we're gonna have a chance of saving the Federation
and everyone in it,
we need the best weapons available.
So, what material is in a claw
that can shred the hull of a ship?
What's a hide made of that can withstand
the firepower of a phaser set to kill?
I need you to find out.
And weaponize it.
- Synced and corrected by martythecrazy - - www.addic7ed.com -
_
- _ - _
_
Scans indicate a diet likely based on
foraging for vegetation
or other passive means of obtaining nutrition.
Lorca thought you and I would make a good team.
Your science. My tactics.
Together we can deal with Lorca's little monster.
How do you know it's a monster, Commander?
Because I've seen what it's capable of.
So have you.
Let's call it Ripper.
That's what it looks like.
That's what it does.
Your Ripper...
appears to share some natural traits with the Tardigrade species,
a docile creature that lives in the waters of the Earth.
A micro-animal
capable of surviving extreme heat and subfreezing temperatures.
Did you say "microscopic"?
In our case, somehow, macroscopic.
Huh.
How did it get on the Glenn?
All the recent logs were corrupted.
But the Glenn's captain made an earlier entry
that security detected a stowaway.
There was no hull breach.
And no unregistered microbiota in the transporter's pattern buffer.
But this was found rummaging around in the lower cargo decks.
We need to find something Lorca can use on this thing.
Poison sacs, pain inducers,
rage glands.
You judge the creature
by its appearance.
And by one
single incident from its past.
Nothing in its biology suggests it would attack,
except in self-defense.
Commander...
this creature is an unknown alien.
It can only be what it is... and not what you want it to be.
It's amazing how much I hate Vulcan proverbs.
You're new here,
so let me share a piece of wisdom.
Lorca isn't interested in what you are.
He's interested in what you can do for him.
And if he needs us to make that thing useful in his war effort...
that's what we're gonna do.
Admiral Cornwell.
I didn't realize you were eating, Captain.
Excuse the breach of protocol.
We just received a distress signal from the planetoid Corvan 2,
- a mining colony... - Near the Aneto system. I know it.
- Sending it through now. - We're under Klingon attack.
Our patrol ships have been destroyed.
Our magnetic shields are degrading under bombardment.
They will fail in six hours.
- Daddy! - Find cover!
- I can't find Andy! - We need immediate evacuation.
We need immediate evacu...
_
Corvan 2 generates 40 percent of the Federation's dilithium.
If the pipeline's cut off, that's half the fleet grounded.
The Klingons ambushed the blockade that was protecting the colony,
and now the closest Federation ship is 84 hours away.
Yours is the only ship in the fleet
with a chance of getting there on time.
Is the Discovery ready to jump?
I told you we'd be ready when you called, and we are.
Discovery's made dozens of small jumps with no issues.
We can make it the full distance.
You have no doubts?
None.
There's no way we'll be ready to jump that far.
You told me you knew why the Glenn failed.
The Glenn crashed into an undetectable Hawking radiation firewall
when it exited from a mycelial plane.
As a result, all the biologicals onboard spun out.
You can prevent that from happening again, right?
- Yes. - So what's the problem?
Captain, as I've explained to you, every time we try a long jump,
we lose navigational stability.
Remember? Jumping is probabilistic.
The longer the jump, the more possible outcomes.
I get it. It's trial and error. Let's try something.
We lack the processing power to make the requisite number
of calculations to hold a course.
What were they doing that we're not?
We took this tech from Straal's lab on the Glenn.
It was an augmentation to their navigation system.
I've incorporated it into our drive unit.
But it won't load completely.
To function optimally,
it would appear to require some kind of supercomputer.
Must've missed that on the Glenn.
Sir...
being chased by a lethal monster
in a death trap surrounded by Klingon bodies is distracting,
but, no, I would've noticed an extra supercomputer.
That's just me.
What's that thing?
That thing is what we took off the Glenn.
It interacts with the spore drive somehow,
but I think it's missing a part. I can't get it to activate.
In exactly five hours, 49 minutes and 46 seconds,
the Klingons will take Corvan 2.
Captain, this can't be rushed.
You listen to me, Mr. Stamets.
They need us. Now.
There are some things I could try to extend the jump range.
Get it done.
You're welcome.
_
Captain, be advised, the spore drive is online and primed.
Primed? Can you control where we're going or not?
It's possible, maybe even likely, but...
Done.
Open shipwide communication.
Yes, Captain.
Attention all personnel. Stealth protocol.
Run silent. Black alert.
Black alert. Black alert.
All crew to battle stations.
Be ready for whatever's on the other side of that jump.
- Disengage shields. - Shields are offline, standing by.
Loading spores into the drive.
Drive?
Excess energy cavitation initiated.
Tactical. Reroute all available power from impulse over to phasers.
- Weps are double hot. - Engineering?
Spore drive is online.
Plot destination for Corvan 2.
At your pleasure, Captain.
Go.
Sensors indicate
external temperature of...
They went offline. It's too hot.
That is not Corvan 2.
- No, sir, it is not. - Stuck in a gravity well
of an O-type star.
Collision is imminent.
Collision is not an option.
Shields up. Full reverse.
Wrong off-ramp, Lieutenant Stamets?
My nav buffer overloaded. I couldn't hold the plotting.
Ah!
Rear thrusters engaging.
We are...
clear of the gravitational well.
Re-engage warp drive.
Get us the hell out of Dodge, Mr. Saru.
Aye-aye, Captain.
This had better be good.
- Lorca's on the warpath. - Look.
The moment the spore drive came online,
the creature's central nervous system
showed micro-patterns of activity in the frontopolar cortex.
You said it hates light.
Maybe it didn't wanna crash into the sun.
It reacted before we jumped.
I saw it cry out in distress.
It's more likely a connection to the spore drive itself.
Don't see how that's relevant to Ripper's aggression.
It may not be,
but it helps us understand its motives and behavior.
Understanding how it feels was not our mission.
Captain needs to know how it fights and kills.
Lorca told me to keep you on track.
That your curiosity might lead you astray.
We're not letting him down.
Hold still or you'll wind up looking like a Tellarite.
How's the patient, Dr. Culber?
Well, I took care of the skull fractures first.
Another millimeter, the palatine bone would've pierced his cortex.
The frontal lobe is overrated.
It only contains memory and emotional expression.
It's completely unnecessary.
Well, I'll save it.
Just in case you might wanna have a feeling one day.
Gentlemen. Every starship, Klingon or Federation,
runs on dilithium crystals.
If we can't protect Corvan, the war is lost.
So, can you fix the lieutenant's inability
to get our ship to go where it's supposed to go?
I warned you, Captain.
Time is an essential component of good science.
Discovery is no longer a science vessel.
- It's a warship. - That is not the mission I signed on for.
- I'm not a soldier. - Well, then get off.
Leave the ship.
If I go, I'm taking everything with me.
My spores, my drive.
This entire ship was designed around my scientific specialty.
Everything on this ship is the property of Starfleet, Lieutenant.
How do you wanna be remembered in history?
Alongside the Wright Brothers, Elon Musk, Zefram Cochrane?
Or as a failed fungus expert?
A selfish little man
who put the survival of his own ego before the lives of others.
Are you done?
Well, you have some blood on your face.
And your hands, Lieutenant. Get back to work. Fix the problem.
Uh, computer, open a shipwide hail.
Working.
Confirmed. Broadcasting shipwide.
Computer, play the audio transmissions from Corvan 2.
This is my last message.
Another round of bombs just struck.
Zaphod is dead.
Our bunker is collapsing.
Mommy, Mommy, wake up.
- Wake up. - Please.
Save my children.
Anyone. Help them.
We've lost Mine Four and Mine Seven.
Two hundred and ten souls.
All gone. Particulate venting is offline.
My team can't breathe.
I don't know if anyone is listening to this,
but if you are...
goodbye.
We're doing this.
Computer, release a localized oneirogenic penthrane mist
into the containment pen.
- Wait, wait. Why are you sedating it? - I'm gonna lop off its claw
so you can figure out what makes this thing
so good at killing Klingons.
I do not think that's a good idea.
We have no idea what effect sedation may have on it.
And we've seen how it responds to aggression.
Sedation protocol complete.
Computer, open containment pen.
Computer, lights to maximum.
Computer, seal containment pen.
Emergency transport. Sickbay.
Find a use for that creature.
Don't let her death be in vain.
_
Crew manifest accessed.
_
Door.
I received your message.
What is it you so urgently need my help with?
I've been thinking about the way I treated you on the Shenzhou.
At times...
I was very unfair.
You often undermined me, dismissed my opinions out of hand.
You wouldn't be wrong to call me out for being selfish.
But I can't help notice that your threat ganglia are quiet now.
Fascinating.
You're trying to gauge my response
to that thing in the pen, aren't you?
Commander Landry was about to attack the creature.
And I believe her death was...
an act of self-defense on its part.
And now, based on your lack of threat response,
I'm ready to submit that the creature'sprimary drive
is not aggressive.
It's not a predator.
You have not changed an iota, Burnham.
Your contrite words were insincere.
They were necessary.
I was wrong to question your place on the crew.
You will fit in perfectly with Captain Lorca.
Why were you on the Glenn?
What were you looking for?
Spores are the thing the Discovery and Glenn had in common.
Stamets would kill me if he knew I was bringing these.
You should probably go. I appreciate you taking the risk,
but this could be dangerous.
Unless we get the drive online, we're not gonna make it to Corvan 2.
All those people are gonna die.
And I can't help them.
I can help you.
Stay back. Keep still.
I brought you something...
I think you might like.
If you don't, well...
they can blame whatever happens on my curiosity.
Computer, open containment pen.
Hello.
These are Tilly's tricorder images
from our mission on the Glenn. Look.
The doors to the engineering room were blown outward.
The shatter pattern of the reaction cube, the destruction,
like something inside was going crazy.
A very big something.
Then there's excess shielding surrounding the room.
It's as if the crew was trying to keep something in.
What's your hypothesis?
That Straal was holding that thing in his lab?
Captain's log said they found the creature in their lower decks.
I remember you chided Straal about not growing his own like you do.
You were talking about mushrooms.
They didn't have a forest on the Glenn like Discovery has.
If they stored mushrooms dry,
it would have to be in tremendous quantities.
In their lower stores. Right there.
Where the creature first appeared.
It entered the ship in pursuit of the mushrooms.
Their spores, actually.
This ship's spore drive travels on a network of mycelium
that's spread across the entire galaxy.
We just can't control where we go.
But maybe the Tardigrade can.
Straal said he found a way to solve the navigation problem.
You said his modifications needed a supercomputer, right?
What if its name is Ripper?
The phaser will only piss him off.
Think of it as a placebo for my skepticism.
Energize.
My God, you're right.
Look how it interacts with the spores.
It's as if they're communicating.
My tricorder is detecting energy transfer.
Some form of symbiosis.
It is talking to them.
That hardly seems fair.
I always wanted to converse with my mushrooms.
Not just converse.
Maybe even tell them where to go.
If we can figure out how to interact with that tech from the Glenn,
we may be looking at our new navigator.
_
Let's try this again. Corvan 2. Black alert.
Mr. Stamets, are you ready?
Black alert.
Stand by, Captain.
Energize.
We just transported the Tardigrade into the reaction cube.
The tech from the Glenn is activating.
This is every charted star system.
The Tardigrade is holding all these coordinates in its head.
Course is set for Corvan 2. We're ready to jump, sir.
Is anybody not ready?
Go.
_
Help!
Find cover!
- Oh, God! - Get down!
- It's okay. - Evacuate!
Targets one and two destroyed.
- Full stop. - Captain?
Initiating full stop, Captain.
Multiple Klingon vessels converging.
Diverting nonessential power to shields.
The Birds are at 1,000 kilometers and closing.
- Their phasers are locked. - Hold tight, everybody.
- Steady. - Shields holding at 80 percent.
Seventy-five. Sixty-five.
Engineering?
Spore drive is primed, Captain.
On my order.
Birds-of-Prey closing in at 500 kilometers.
Shields at 30 percent.
Coordinates input.
Twenty.
- Captain. - Lieutenant Stamets advises
- that the ship is ready to jump. - I need them closer. Wait.
Let's send our Klingon friends a message they won't forget.
And...
go.
Who saved us?
Commander Michael Burnham.
Vulcan Science Academy commencement, 2249.
Recipient, Vulcan Science...
_
Computer, open containment pen.
Hey.
You feeling better?
I brought you the good stuff.
I'm sorry.
Hi.
Long night, huh?
Everybody's talking about what you did.
You helped save many on that colony.
Seems like you're gonna have another reputation to get used to.
It's probably none of my business, but...
my mother used to say, um...
That's not true. My mother never really said anything to me
unless she was criticizing my hair.
But you...
I don't know, I just think...
if it made its way across the galaxy to find you,
you should open it.
And you shouldn't be afraid to open it.
Because I watched you tame the most incredible creature,
and, well...
you're not afraid of anything.
That's none of my business. Right?
Identity confirmed: Burnham, Michael.
Do you accept the last will and testament
of Captain Philippa Georgiou?
I accept.
Hello, Michael.
I hope that wherever this finds you, you are well.
I imagine you have your own command now.
The captain of your own ship.
I have always tried to show you by example.
The best way to know yourself
is to know others.
You are curious, an explorer.
So I am leaving you my most beloved possession,
handed down through my family for centuries.
My hope is that you will use it to continue to investigate
the mysteries of the universe,
both inside and out.
And keep your eyes and heart open.
Always.
Goodbye, Michael.
And good luck.
Know that I am as proud of you as if you were my own daughter.
Take good care.
But more importantly,
take good care of those in your care.
- Synced and corrected by martythecrazy - - www.addic7ed.com -