Star Trek: Discovery (2017–…): Season 1, Episode 1 - The Vulcan Hello - full transcript

They are coming.

Atom by atom...

they will coil around us...

and take all that we are.

There is one way to confront this threat.

By reuniting the 24 warring houses

of our own empire.

We have forgotten the Unforgettable...

the last to unify our tribes:

Kahless.

Together, under one creed...



remain Klingon!

Remain Klingon!

That is why we light our beacon this day.

To assemble our people.

To lock arms against those
whose fatal greeting is...

"We come in peace."

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

- Isn't that the whole idea of Starfleet?
- Hey, I taught you that.

Don't trust me, Captain?

I trust you with my life,
Commander Burnham.

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

Very lost.

Technically, we would be lost.

How long until that storm
comes crashing down on us?



I estimate one hour,
17 minutes, 22 seconds.

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

The map says the well's this way, Captain.

This drought's gonna last 89 years.

The Crepusculans are facing extinction
as a species.

See those egg sacs?

Those are their offspring.

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

If we don't do something,
they won't live another thousand hours.

The radiation from
a nearby meteor-drilling accident

dried out their water table.

If we get in and out without contact,
we can steer clear of General Order 1.

And there is the well.

I stand corrected.

- Ye of little faith.
- Never had a doubt.

Tell me what I need
to break through this bedrock.

Point-seven-second field burst
at level setting 13.5.

Georgiou to Shenzhou: two to transport.

The storm is faster than I thought.

The ship won't pick up our signatures.

Unless we can contact Lieutenant Saru,
we could be trapped here until it's over.

Let's take a walk.

Follow my footsteps, Michael. Even lines.

Why? Captain, where are we going?

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

Now we're really lost.

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

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

Is it wise
to be heading away from the village?

It's hard to imagine
you've served under me for seven years.

I think it's time that we talked about
you having your own command.

I'm grateful, Captain.

Though I would be more so
if I thought we had any chance

of ever returning to the ship.

Just keep walking, Michael.

What will you do
if you are stuck here for 89 years?

A likely scenario,
unless we die here in the desert.

But say you lived.

As a xenoanthropologist,
I could reveal myself to the natives,

learn their culture,
try to fit in, if possible.

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

That's easy. I'd escape.

These are our footprints.

- You've walked us in a circle.
- Not exactly a circle.

How did they find us?

I set a star.

First officer's log,
stardate 1207.3.

On Earth, it's May 11th, 2256, a Sunday.

The crew of the U.S.S. Shenzhou

has been called to the edge
of Federation space

to investigate damage done
to one of our interstellar relays.

Blast burns around the hull
are inconclusive.

Were they caused by an asteroid?

Or was it deliberately destroyed
to limit Starfleet communications?

And if so, by whom?

Despite the risks of our mission,
I remain optimistic.

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

In this case, a binary star system.

Around these two suns,

ice, dust, and gasses collide
to form the planets

future generations will call home...

a humbling reminder that all life is born
from chaos and destruction.

Based on readings,

the relay doesn't appear
to have been damaged naturally.

I don't like the look of that.

Well, keep looking.

The comment was figurative.
I'm expressing concern.

Finish your scan so you can
express facts instead.

The bridge is yours, Mr. Saru.

Yes, Commander.

Yes, Number One?

Your chief science officer is worried.

Something took a bite out of our relay.
Saru thinks it was malicious.

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

What do you think? Any idea what it is?

By all indications, nothing intelligent.

- But?
- Starfleet's reputation for tech hygiene

is exemplary.

When a relay goes down,
the Federation sends a ship to fix it.

- Someone's trying to get our attention?
- If they are, they have.

Lieutenant Saru, what do we have?

Ah. I have taken the initiative of
keeping us at maximum scanning distance

in case of anything threatening out there.

Yes, Number One tells me
you suspect foul play.

Well, despite the first officer's
constant need to dismiss my ideas...

- She apparently agrees with you.
- Really?

I'm shocked as well. Ensign Connor.

Agreement between my senior officers.

- Note the date and time.
- Noted, Captain.

Is this amount of sarcasm necessary?

Necessary, no. But I do like it.

There is something else out there.

- What do you have?
- Recalibrating sensors.

Electronic alignment in process.

Scans are being deflected.
I'm having trouble locating the source.

So something's out there,
but no one can tell where or what it is.

Ah, wait, I have it.

- No. Recalibrating.
- Any time now, Mr. Saru.

I have it.

Magnify.

Is that what damaged our relay?

What am I looking at?

Object of unknown origin.

- Let's get more specific.
- I'm unable to bring it into focus.

Number One?

Range is 2000 kilometers,
bearing 358, mark 269.

Roughly 150 meters long,
tucked into that accretion disk.

Almost directly below us.
It's in a sensor dead zone.

A scattering field is confounding
the ship's ability to translate the image.

As science officer,

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

than simply reading data off a monitor.
But...

considering it's scrambling
our optical processors,

how are we going to be able to see it?

Thoughts, Number One?

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

I will.

It's lurking.

The scattering field it's emitting
suggests intent.

We see something we don't understand
and instantly cast judgment?

Maybe it's lost.

- Maybe it's afraid to show its whole self.
- Hiding.

But maybe hoping to be found.

Here we are speculating.

I... especially recommend
we leave it alone.

I'm not sure we have much choice.

We can't lock on to it.

And we don't have a shuttle
maneuverable enough to navigate the ring.

I'll go. All I need is a thruster pack.

With the levels of radiation
kicking off those binaries,

she'll have 20 minutes until her DNA
starts to unravel like noodles.

"Like noodles."

I'll be back in 19. A flyby.

It seems a waste of resources.
What will be gained?

You understand, being afraid of everything
means you learn nothing.

There's no opportunity to discover,
to explore.

And here I thought we were doing
a deep-space relay audit.

You're both right.

- Saru, go with her.
- Captain?

Best to keep variables to a minimum.
Wouldn't want to put my colleague at risk.

And you, Mr. Saru? Are you equally happy
not to be put at risk?

Oh, on any occasion, Captain.

You realize once you reach
that scattering field,

you could be cut off
from all communication.

We've come all this way, Captain.

It would be irresponsible
to leave whatever that is unknown.

Just a flyby.

Just a flyby.

Commencing airlock
depressurization sequence.

Commander Burnham,
this is Ensign Danby Connor.

On behalf of Captain Georgiou,
and the crew of the U.S.S. Shenzhou,

we'd like to welcome you to Flight 819,

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

The temperature is a brisk
minus-260 degrees Celsius.

We are forecasting mild debris,
but anticipate a smooth ride.

This is Commander Burnham.

Commencing reconnaissance mission
to field void an unknown object.

Data collection is on and nominal.

All lights are green.

Establishing interlink frequency
with Burnham's EV.

Channel clear, and ready to transmit.

Confirming six-second directional thrust
for saucer realignment.

Commencing final pre-launch system checks.

Life support: Nominal.

Oxygen-nitrogen saturation: Nominal.

Air pressure and flow: Nominal.

Communication module: Active.

Filters at 0.01 percent saturation.

Pre-flight checklist complete.

Computer, enable igniter.

Ten seconds to thruster ignition.

Ten, nine, eight,

seven, six, five,

four, three, two, one.

Body scan online.
Heart rate 79 and rising,

BP 130 over 70.

- It's a little elevated for her.
- She's having fun.

Almost to the debris field, Captain.

Understood.

Michael, watch your time.

- 19 minutes, not a nanosecond longer.
- Aye, Captain.

I'm fully aware.

- Boost signal.
- Unable to comply.

The scattering field
must be interfering with comms.

Mission clock at 17 minutes, 30 seconds.

Interference is starting
to degrade resolution.

Routing power to subspace antenna.

Shenzhou, do you copy?

Distance to object,
1000 kilometers.

Shenzhou, do you copy?

Implementing course correction.

Hello.

Shenzhou, are you able to see this?

Michael, can you hear me? Acknowledge.

- Michael, can you hear me? Acknowledge.
- There's too much interference.

Shenzhou, do you copy?

Data collection unit, you there?

- Internal computer online.
- Good.

- Mission time?
- Twelve minutes, 58 seconds.

Plenty of time to take a peek.

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

Twelve minutes and 48 seconds
until maximum exposure.

Commander is less than ten meters
from the edge of the scattering field.

I can't remember
who said sculptures

are crystallized spirituality...

Headlamp.

But I see what they meant.

This is Burnham in the blind.

I'm above the object, which is old.

Centuries old.

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

The only word
to effectively describe it is... "wow."

But I'll try to be more precise.

Its surface has the appearance of stone,
with an exoskeleton of metal alloy.

Incredibly intricate.

The construction and design
are nothing short of astounding.

I wish you could see what I'm seeing.

It is sublime.

It's impossible to discern
a practical purpose.

I'm going to land on it,
get a closer look.

Nice and easy.

Hold on. My presence has triggered
some sort of motion response.

Mission countdown:
ten minutes, 15 seconds.

Warning: Proximity alert.

Scanning for database recognition.

Iconography confirmed. Klingon.

I'm Commander Burnham...

of the United Federation of...

Still no sign of Commander Burnham.
Mission clock runs out in 15 seconds.

Still too much interference.

I have Number One. Telemetry only.
Blood pressure is 70 and falling.

- She won't make it unless we get her now.
- Transporter. Do we have her, Mr. Weeton?

- Pattern integrity's too weak.
- Saru, get a lock, boost her signal.

- Captain, there is no signal.
- You better get me a signal.

- Remotely fire her jetpack.
- She's offline.

- She's floating free.
- Engineering, tractor beam?

Can't get a lock. Running calculations.

The scattering field is still a problem.
We can't transport her until she clears.

She'll soon exhibit symptoms
of acute radiation syndrome.

She's not gonna last much longer.

Hang on.

Commander Burnham,
this is Shenzhou. Please respond.

Commander Burnham?

Commander, please respond.

Shenzhou to Commander Burnham.

Commander, do you read? Please respond.

Witness our brother, our torchbearer,

killed by the Federation interloper
on our sacred beacon.

I see you as you see the end.

Our Torchbearer honors us...

first to die in our crusade
for self-preservation.

Our ancestors welcome our fallen brother,
Rejac,

to their Black Fleet.

They fight with us,

as we fight against our enemy.

Remain Klingon!

Remain Klingon!

Pupil Burnham.

Pupil Burnham.

Klingon social order rests upon?

- Inviolable honor/shame dynamic.
- Correct.

Klingon home world, Qo'noS.

- Unwelcoming to the Federation.
- Correct.

- Klingon political order.
- Twenty-four great houses.

Correct. Location of the most recent
Klingon terror raid.

Unacceptable duration between query
and correct response.

Number of survivors
at the human-Vulcan science outpost

at Doctari Alpha.

Unacceptable duration between query
and correct response.

Number of survivors at Doctari Alpha.

- No.
- Unacceptable response.

- Number of survivors...
- Please.

Number of survivors...

Stop.

Program paused.

Sarek.

I'm sorry. I can do better.

When emotion brings us ghosts
from the past,

only logic can root us in the present.

Maybe I can try to learn Vulcan...

to be quicker with my answers.

Your human tongue is not the problem.

It is your human heart.

Good. You're awake.

I was dreaming.

Oh? What about?

Klingons.

How did I get here?

We transported you back aboard
three hours ago.

Three hours?

Antiproton therapy regimen incomplete.

- What are you doing?
- Session terminated prematurely.

- Medical emergency.
- There's no time.

Wait, the recombination process
is nowhere near finished.

I need you back in the chamber.

Do you understand the effect
of genetic unspooling?

You don't wanna die that way. Commander!

Binaries are kicking serious QEs
up and down the spectrum.

Targeting gets hot,
but I can't tell what I'm grabbing onto.

- I wanna know what's out there.
- Okay, let's go around again.

- By the numbers.
- What's going on?

Number One, you should be in sickbay.

What?

- Have they made contact?
- Who's "they"?

There are Klingons out there.
We need to go to red alert.

Michael...

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

I have. One attacked me on that object.
Check my helmet cam.

- The footage was corrupted.
- Sensors show the commander

entered the bridge in an irradiated state.

Without immediate treatment,
her condition will certainly be terminal.

He was... warrior caste.

His EV suit bore a Klingon house insignia.

- She also has a grade 3 concussion.
- I'm not delusional.

This has nothing to do with a concussion.
Philippa...

there are Klingons.

Red alert.

- Tell me what happened.
- He ambushed me.

I hit my thruster pack to get away.
I knocked him into his blade.

I killed him.

That object could hide a raiding party
obscured behind that scattering field.

If there are Klingons in this sector,
they may be responsible

for the damage to our relay.

If there are Klingons in this sector,
we should withdraw, immediately.

This is Federation space.
Retreat is not an option.

Whatever is over there
needs to show itself.

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

Target phase cannons on the object.

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

I didn't say anything about destroying it.

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

Target the object.

We're locked on.

Something is scanning us.

They've detected our weapon signature.

Wait.

Impossible.

- No warp signatures detected.
- Then where did they come from?

Mr. Gant,
disengage phase cannon targeting.

Number One, get to sickbay.

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

Mr. Januzzi, contact Starfleet Command.

Send an encoded message.

Tell them we have engaged the Klingons.

Unidentified Klingon vessel,
this is the starship Shenzhou.

Please, respond.

Unidentified Klingon vessel,
this is the starship Shenzhou.

Please, respond.

All is as it is meant to be.

Who is Rejac's next in line?

I am his brother. Or'Eq.

The honor falls to you
to be our new Torchbearer.

With respect...

I find great wisdom in your teachings...

But?

Can you be sure our brothers and sisters
will answer your call?

They will because the prophecy commands

all Klingons must come
to the light of Kahless

when it shines in the night sky.

Will ships really fly across the galaxy
because of a fable?

So, you doubt?

You dishonor...

only yourself.

I will light the beacon.

Speak your name.

Voq.

Son of none.

You have no family blade of your own.

You cannot assume the birthright
of a noble house.

You are unworthy.

I am worthy.

Not by blood...

but by faith.

I serve the light of Kahless.

I am reborn in his flames.

I recognize you as one
who has lived his life on the outside

and yearns to be part of something
bigger than himself.

Some may see the color of your skin
as nature's mistake.

I call it a mirror...

for I see myself in you.

My Lord!

Long-range sensors show the movement,
just as you predicted.

Excellent. The time has come.

Take my blade, Voq.

Son of none.

The honor of Torchbearer is yours.

- Light the beacon!
- Light the beacon!

Unidentified Klingon vessel,
this is the starship Shenzhou.

Please, respond.

Unidentified Klingon vessel,
this is the starship Shenzhou.

Please, respond.

- Any chance they can't hear us?
- You're on every subspace channel.

Your orders, Commander.

- Any response?
- None.

Commander...

there is something I'd like to show you.

Their hull is covered
in hollow ornamental metallic pods,

thousands of them, tightly interlocked,

forming a kind of... armor.

Not the most efficient defense.

I suspect its purpose is more symbolic
than practical.

They contain Klingon biological material
in various states of decay.

Remote dating is wildly divergent.

Some bones date back thousands of years.
Others, only hours old.

Their entire ship is covered with coffins.

Commander, the captain listens to you.

Tell her... we must withdraw.

I'm afraid that's no longer possible.

Your world has food chains.

Mine does not.

Our species map is binary.
We're either predator or prey.

My people were hunted, bred, farmed...

We are your livestock of old.

We were biologically determined
for one purpose, and one purpose alone:

to sense the coming of death.

I sense it coming now.

The Klingon flagship has a stealth mode.

It's some kind of cloaking screen,
unlike anything we've ever seen, Admiral.

There may be more vessels
than we know.

We've reached out with
every form of greeting Starfleet has.

- They're blocking our hails.
- It feels like a setup.

Maybe our relay got too close
for Klingon comfort

and they destroyed it to lure us out here.

You remember my first officer,
Michael Burnham?

Next time, try not disturbing the property

of a warrior race we've hardly spoken to
for a hundred years.

Our only choice now
is to navigate this situation

- with as much finesse as possible.
- Admiral, if I may...

The ideal outcome
for any Klingon interaction is battle.

They're relentlessly hostile, sir.

- It's in their nature.
- The Federation and the Klingon empire

have always been on the cold side of war.

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

and now you presume
to know their motivation,

because it is in their nature?

Considering your background,
I'd think you the last person

to make assumptions based on race.

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

The Europa
and all fleet vessels within range

will be at your coordinates in two hours.
Hold your position.

Do nothing absent provocation. Understood?

Understood.

Signal terminated.

That went well.

- What's the mood outside?
- Saru is the only one talking.

He strongly believes we should about-face.

There is a space station at Eagle 12,
three light-years away.

The Andorian colony at Gamma Hydra is six.

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

Not if. When.

I have to hope that whatever happens here

can serve as a bridge
between our civilizations.

That's the diplomat in you talking.

What does the soldier say?

Nothing good.

Captain to the bridge.

- Status.
- Photonic activity on the Klingon object.

Output is over one billion lumen
per square meter.

Optical sensors overloaded.

- Bring plasmatic filters online.
- Rerouting power.

- Is that a weapon?
- Seems to be some sort of signal emitter.

- Where are my filters?
- They're at 100 percent, Captain.

Initiating emergency shutdown.

Noise is some kind of
electromagnetic subspace waveform.

- Narrowing channel range.
- Adjusting orientation to minimize.

- Turn it down.
- Aye, Captain.

- All the way down.
- Acoustics are muted.

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

- It's a signal pulse.
- Is there a message?

This may be the message.

What if they're calling
for the same thing we are?

- Backup.
- Long-range sensors to the maximum, Saru.

If more Klingons are on the way,
I want as much notice as possible.

- Permission to leave the bridge.
- Are you kidding?

It's relevant.

Granted.

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

Aye, Captain.

- Computer.
- Working.

Open dedicated subspace channel 222AA7.

Use of this frequency requires

- diplomatic authorization.
- Voiceprint authorize. Burnham...

- Michael.
- Confirmed.

Commander Burnham.

Hello, Sarek. I'm happy to see you.

So many years,

and still,
you allow emotional considerations

to impede your logic.

They inform my logic.

I need your help.

I assumed the timing of the call
was not coincidental.

The quadrant reports a new star.

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

We've encountered the Klingons.

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

I killed one.

In light of the fact
that they killed your parents...

some might think that only fair.

However... if a death was necessary,

I am satisfied it was not yours.

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

We're facing off.

No fire has been exchanged.
But they didn't turn on that beacon

until Starfleet was on its way
to our position.

I think they're summoning
more of their kind.

An odd proposition given that their empire
has been in disarray for generations.

But you are describing something
out of the ordinary.

Restraint in the face of conflict.

When a civilization acts
in opposition to its instincts,

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

Great unifiers are few and far between,
but they do come.

Often such leaders will need
a profound cause

for their followers to rally around.

A war.

Be very careful

that your assumptions
are not being driven by your past.

This is isn't about what happened, Sarek.
It's what's happening now.

How did the Vulcans achieve
diplomatic relations with the Klingons?

That is a solution particular to us.

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

Sarek...

please.

I caution you...

be considered
with how you use this information.

You cannot save lives
that have already been lost.

Tell me...

how did you keep the Klingons at bay?

- Engineering, report.
- Internal damage, negative.

Core is 100 percent.

Captain, we have to fire.
Hit that ship with everything we've got.

Absolutely not.
They haven't powered weapons.

They don't pose an imminent threat.

The Klingon threat is always imminent
and inevitable.

- Tactical log's ready.
- Thank you.

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

Two hundred and forty years ago,
near H'Atoria,

a Vulcan ship crossed into Klingon space.

The Klingons attacked immediately.
They destroyed the vessel.

Vulcans don't make the same mistake twice.

From then on,
until formal relations were established,

whenever Vulcans crossed paths
with Klingons, the Vulcans fired first.

They said hello in a language
the Klingons understood.

Violence brought respect.
Respect brought peace.

Captain, we have to give the Klingons
a Vulcan hello.

If their intention is to attack,
balling up our fists won't dissuade them.

It would be logical to take into account
my success rate during our years together,

and execute my plan without challenge

before we're dragged into war.

Starfleet doesn't fire first.
That's all, Number One.

We have to.

In my ready room. Now.

- Lt. Commander, you have the bridge.
- Yes, captain.

Computer, privacy.

- Cap...
- How dare you challenge me.

I apologize for my insubordination.

- That kind of talk can destabilize a crew.
- Don't underestimate them.

I've overseen their exercises.
They're ready for battle.

Battle is not a simulation.
It's blood, and screams...

and funerals.

I taught you better.
We don't start shooting on a hunch.

And we don't take innocent lives, period.

I understand your history.

My commitment to this course of action
is not emotional.

- We target its neck, cut off its head...
- You're still injured.

Thousands of lives will be lost
because of failure to act.

Whose lives?
Victims of your imaginary war?

Your life, Captain.

Yours.

Stand down, Commander Burnham.

That's an order.

You're right.

I may not be myself.

Easy, Michael.

I'm sorry.

You're relieved, Mr. Saru.

Where is the captain?

I provided her with Intel from a source.
She's passing it to the admiral.

Weapons.
Slot a pair of torpedoes in the tubes,

and compute a firing solution,
targeting the neck of that ship.

Is the plan to fire on the Klingons?

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

Are you acting on the captain's orders?

I'm your superior officer.
We are in a high-risk scenario.

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

Commander, it's just...

Your breathing has elevated,
perspiration's visible.

I fear what you are doing
betrays the wishes of our captain.

Target phasers.
Take your station, Commander.

- This is mutiny.
- Move, Saru. Tactical.

- Locked on.
- Fire.

Belay that order.

Captain, please. I'm trying to save you.

I'm trying to save all of you.

Stand down.

Captain. Incoming.
Warp signatures detected.

Is it Starfleet?

No.

Those ships are Klingon.