Star Trek: Voyager (1995–2001): Season 6, Episode 3 - Barge of the Dead - full transcript

When her shuttle crosses paths with an ion storm, B'Elanna Torres is severely injured and slips into a coma. She envisions Klingons killing her crew mates and her, and then finds herself on...

Torres to Voyager,
I could use a little help here.

Status?

An ion storm blew out my deflector field.

I've lost helm control and I'm venting
plasma from the port nacelle.

We'll modify the tractor pulse.

- Acknowledged.
- Fields in place. You're clear to land.

Hold on. This is going to be bumpy.

B'Elanna?

- Are you alive?
- You tell me.

- You've got a mild concussion.
- Best thing that's happened all day.

I expect you to follow orders.



I told you to return to Voyager,
not chase the probe into an ion storm.

I didn't want to lose our only probe.

We only have one B'Elanna.
I don't want to lose her.

Understood.

Lanna... I'm glad you made it back
in one piece.

- Did you just call me Lanna?
- I suppose I did.

- That's what my mother called me.
- Then I'm in good company.

Come in.

- Feeling better?
- I've felt worse.

I found something you might like, what
my ancestors called a monkey wrench.

- It was lodged in the nacelle.
- How did it get there?

It looks like you ran into it
after your deflector field collapsed.

The big question is,
how did it get in this quadrant?

What do you mean?



What?

- It's Klingon.
- And it's old. That's about all we know.

The Klingons beat Starfleet to the Delta
Quadrant by a few hundred years.

You may be holding the most important
archaeological find in Klingon history.

Remind me to plant a flag
on behalf of the empire.

The simplest explanation is that
the Borg assimilated a bird-of-prey

and blew it out of an airlock
on the way home.

Maybe so.

In any case,
it makes a nice souvenir.

It bled. It screamed.
There's got to be an explanation.

You hit your head
harder than you thought?

I didn't. Run a submolecular scan.

There is nothing there.

No fluid or vapour residue.

Irregularities at the atomic level?

It's a hunk of metal.

That sound had nothing to do with this.

Maybe it was a signal from a pulsar.

A pulsar that speaks Klingon?

There probably is some explanation.

But it's 0300 hours. I'm tired.

Let's deal with this in the morning.

Just the daughter of the empire
I've been looking for.

Congratulations for finding the artefact.

I ran into it with a shuttle.

Some great discoveries are accidents.

When Sarpek found the Knife of Kirom,

he was searching for his lost targ.

I've been doing research.

Why?

I'm planning a celebration.

I appreciate it, but since I'm the only
Klingon on board, there's no point.

Nonsense. This isn't just
a testament to Klingon spirit,

it's a piece of the Alpha Quadrant.
A symbol of Voyager's home.

It's just as worthy of celebration
as some old knife.

The man's got a point.

Besides, I've replicated
five barrels of bloodwine.

Festivities begin at 1900 hours.

I almost forgot.

As guest of honour, you can say a few
words on behalf of your people.

Sounds like you've got a big day ahead.
You should probably get some rest.

- All right. Let's call it a night.
- Thank you.

Do not underestimate
the power of the mind.

The artefact was a catalyst
for your already active imagination.

It served as an unwelcome reminder
of your ancestry,

the self-loathing when
you look in a mirror and see a Klingon.

- Who mentioned self-loathing?
- You despise being Klingon.

It's no secret. What you experienced
was a subconscious manifestation

of that hatred.

The blood in your veins,
the voices of your ancestors -

all symbols of your Klingon heritage.

And when the blood disappeared,

that was me trying to vaporise
that part of myself?

Yes. But the essence of who you are,
the artefact itself, remained.

- And the moral of the story is...
- Quite simple.

Despite your efforts to become
something else, Starfleet or Maquis,

your Klingon nature
continues to assert itself.

That's an intriguing theory.

Perhaps we should forego meditation
in favour of a different exercise.

Fine by me.

- This should be interesting.
- Feel the weight in your hands.

Describe the first thought
that enters your mind.

It's a clumsy weapon. Overstated,
like everything else Klingon.

You can't see the elegance of its design
because of your hatred.

- I don't hate Klingons.
- It's a warrior's blade.

Crafted for precision and balance.
Observe.

- Is this your idea of therapy?
- Listen to you whine like a Ferengi.

- Pahtk!
- You're not worthy.

A true Klingon
would kill me where I stand.

- What the hell has gotten into you?
- This exercise is over.

You are dismissed, Lieutenant,
and take your dishonour with you.

And the blood was ankle deep.

And the River Skral ran crimson red.

- I don't see the merit of a drinking song.
- It's not about drinking.

It's saluting the noble deeds
of our ancestors

and honouring those who fell in battle.

Think Q'apla!
Think "Long live the empire!"

- Think again.
- OK, I'm overdoing it a bit.

Try to get into the spirit of the occasion.

Very well.

Gagh, anyone?

He said to eat this or he'll force
it down the gullet of your corpse.

- No offence.
- None taken.

- So this is replicated, right?
- Unfortunately.

And how do you get it to move?

I used a kinesthetic agent
to give it a little oomph.

Is it just me
or has everyone gone "Klingon happy"?

Come on. They're doing this for you.

Well, then,
they don't know me very well.

And if you even think
of joining in with this nonsense,

I'll rip out your tongue
and wear it as a belt.

No, there's not a lot of Klingon in you.

I inherited the forehead
and the bad attitude. That's it.

- She would have loved all this.
- Your mother?

She was so obsessed
with Klingon ritual, myths.

It used to drive my father and me crazy.

Did I ever tell you she put me
in a Klingon monastery?

You're kidding?

She pulled me out of school in order
to teach me honour and discipline.

Out of the plasma cooker, into the fire.

She prayed to Kahless
every day to guide me.

I guess he wasn't listening.

Could I have your attention?

I hate to interrupt festivities, but before
I hand over to our resident Klingon,

I'd like to say a few words.

This is a great day
for the Klingon Empire.

A day when we honour their ancestors.

Those warriors
whose deeds of valour and glory...

Captain!

- Where am I?
- Silence.

The dead ask no questions.

Computer, end program.

Let go of me.

Wait.

Wait.

She won't take the mark.

What the hell is going on?

Where am I?

You should know.
You're half Klingon.

Enlighten me.

This is the Barge of the Dead.

Our dishonoured souls
are being taken to Gre'thor.

- Klingon hell is a myth.
- That's what I thought.

Just a foolish superstition.

Imagine my surprise.

But I was on Voyager with my crew.

That was the naj,
the dream before dying.

When we can't accept we've died, we
create the illusion of life to hold on to.

- He slaughtered my friends.
- No. He slaughtered the dream.

He dragged you
from the illusion of life.

This is where you belong.

What is that?

It's the Kos'Karii. They'll try
to lure you to them. Don't listen.

- B'Elanna, are you there?
- Can you hear me?

- Help us find you.
- Tom? Chakotay?

It's not your friends.

There are things here
worse than death.

You.

Is this the mongrel child?
Yes.

The one whose face
would not bear the mark.

B'Elanna... daughter of Miral.

- It's not your time.
- How do you know my name?

You've come close
to boarding this ship many times.

I remember the first.

You were a child. Your mother
took you to the Sea of Gatan.

Your curiosity
was as deep as the water.

I fell in. I almost drowned.

When your mother breathed life back
into your lungs, she told you about me.

- So you're supposed to be Kortar.
- Eh?

- You remember me?
- I remember the myth of Kortar.

The first Klingon. He destroyed
the gods who created him.

I was condemned to ferry the souls
of the dishonoured to Gre'thor.

I may have believed in you as a child,
but not any more.

If you didn't still believe,
you wouldn't be here.

Foolish girl.

You cannot harm me.
I am already dead.

What's happening?

Another dishonoured warrior
is being delivered.

Mother.

It's all right. You're safe.

Your shuttle was drifting
on the edge of an ion storm.

You lost life support.
We found you just in time.

But I got through the storm.
I remember crashing into the shuttlebay.

When we tractored your shuttle
back to Voyager, you were in a coma.

We almost lost you.

- The Klingon artefact.
- Artefact?

My hand.

You took quite a beating out there.

More than your fair share
of cuts and bruises.

Come in.

- How are you feeling?
- A little out of place.

- Would you like to talk about it?
- Yes.

And no.

- Let me know when you decide.
- I don't know how to say this.

Try.

Do you believe in an afterlife?

I accept there are things in the universe
that can't be scanned by a tricorder.

What happened to you out there?

I think... I died.

I died and I was on the Barge
of the Dead. In the Klingon afterlife.

Klingon mythology was engrained
in you since you were a child.

It's not surprising
you experienced some of those images.

I saw my mother.

If it was real, then she's dead.

Your mother, the Barge of the Dead.
These are just symbols.

- Your mind is telling you something.
- What? That my mother's going to hell?

You need time to digest it. Interpret the
symbols and search for their meaning.

What if there is no symbolism to
interpret? What if the afterlife is real?

I'm an engineer. My whole life
I've immersed myself in science.

But what if it's time
to start looking beyond that?

My grandfather used to think he could
transform himself into a wolf

so that he could venture out
to explore the spirit realm.

It was real to him, as real
as what your experience was to you.

But that doesn't mean he grew hair
on his body and walked on all fours.

My mother
has been on my mind a lot lately.

We've just had a big anniversary.
It's been ten years since we talked.

But it was so real.

I could taste the blood in the air.

I could feel the wind.

I was seasick
from the rocking of the boat.

- Hi.
- Hi.

- What are you reading?
- The paq'batlh.

- It's a sacred Klingon scroll.
- Find anything?

- You don't want to know.
- Come on, it can't be that bad.

You want to bet?

I found out why
my mother is on her way to Gre'thor.

- It's because I sent her there.
- What do you mean?

The sins of the child. She's being
punished for my dishonour.

I turned my back on everything Klingon.
She has to pay the price.

You can't even be sure
your mother is dead,

much less blame yourself
for what happens in the afterlife.

Look at this.
The Eleventh Tome of Klavek.

It's a story about Kahless returning from
the dead with a wound from the afterlife.

A warning that what he experienced
wasn't a dream. It happened to me.

Kahless was in the afterlife to rescue
his brother from the Barge of the Dead

and deliver him to Sto-Vo-Kor.
Don't you see?

I have a chance to rescue my mother if I
accept responsibility for her dishonour

before she passes through
the gates of Gre'thor.

I have to go back.

Wait a minute.
What do you mean, go back?

I can't let her suffer for what I've done.

It's the only way.

I respect what you believe in,
but you're starting to scare me.

I'm scaring myself.

It's a controlled procedure.
I'll be supervised.

The Doctor can simulate the ion storm.
He'll help me with your permission.

I'm still not inclined
to grant your request.

I can't pursue my spiritual beliefs?

Don't turn this
into a debate about freedom of worship.

That's what it is.

There's a limit
to how far I'll let religious practices go.

If your beliefs required you to sacrifice
a child, I wouldn't allow that either.

That's an absurd example.

You want to simulate a near-death
experience to visit the Barge of Death?

You're telling me what's absurd?
I won't let you risk your life for this.

- Captain, please.
- Request denied.

What I do with my own life is one thing.

But to know
that I have condemned my mother...

I appreciate that,
but what you experienced wasn't real.

It doesn't matter if you think
it was real. It was to me.

Whatever it was, it changed me.

I can't ignore that.
I need to confront what's happened.

I'm sorry.

- You're just like her.
- Lieutenant?

My mother.

You're as dedicated to Starfleet
principles as she was to Klingon honour.

I know we haven't always
seen eye to eye.

But despite our differences,
you helped me become a good officer.

- I'd like to think you're proud of me.
- Lam.

My mother never had the chance
to be proud of me.

I'd like her to know me
the way you do.

I don't want her to die
thinking of me as a disgrace.

You have to let me do this.

I can't believe
the captain is allowing this.

One minute you're in a coma,
the next you're a born-again Klingon?

I just know
this is something I have to do.

There's got to be an easier way
to explore your spirituality. Church?

- It wouldn't be enough.
- I'll read the scrolls, learn Klingon.

We'll figure this out... together.

Next time.

- I just hope there is a next time.
- There will be.

- Report.
- I've examined the sensor logs.

I should be able to trigger
her near-death experience.

Good. B'Elanna?

I'm ready.

Be careful.

You have an hour.

At the first sign of trouble
we're bringing you out. Understood?

Computer, erect an isolation field
around the surgical bay.

Decrease oxygen concentration
within the force field by 27%.

Begin ionising the enclosed atmosphere
to 5,000 particles per cubic metre.

- She's unconscious.
- Neural activity decreasing to 87%.

62%.

- Synaptic function is failing.
- Compensating.

- Neural activity is nominal.
- She's not breathing.

She's still alive.
Her lungs are taking in enough oxygen

to keep her brain from necrotising.

Q'apla, B'Elanna.

Mother?

Stay away. You are an illusion.

You're trying to lure me away.

Mother, it's me.

B'Elanna?

Then you died as well?

- I've come to lift your dishonour.
- You don't believe in Sto-Vo-Kor.

A lot has happened
since I last saw you.

I've changed.

Not enough.

It was you
who brought this damnation upon me.

If you hadn't forced me
to become a warrior...

- I tried to guide you in Klingon ways.
- You tried a little too hard.

If you had listened to me

we wouldn't be on the Barge of the
Dead. You were always running away.

You drove me away.

The same way
you drove away my father.

He abandoned us.

You pushed him to the point where
he couldn't be near anything Klingon,

including me.

I wanted to give you honour.

If you had understood that
I would not be on my way to Gre'thor.

We're on the Barge of the Dead

and we're still having the same argument
we were having ten years ago.

Look. If I have dishonoured you,

I am truly sorry.

Are you? You have too much anger
in your heart to be sorry.

We don't have time for this
if we perform the transference.

You intend to lift my dishonour
by taking my place?

I have no intention of being on this barge
when it gets to Gre'thor.

We've got just enough time
before my crew resuscitates me.

I should have known
you'd choose the easy way.

What are you talking about? Do you
know the risks I've taken to save you?

You still understand nothing
about being a Klingon.

I would rather face damnation with what
little honour you have left me

than cheat my way into Sto-Vo-Kor.

There she is. Bring them.

- The mongrel child's returned.
- I'm taking my mother's place.

B'Elanna!

- You claim her dishonour as your own?
- Yes.

- You're willing to die for her?
- Yes. Release her to Sto-Vo-Kor.

- No!
- Keep her quiet.

It's not your decision.
She has the right to reclaim your honour.

Once we reach Gre'thor and you are
within its gates, I will release her.

No. Now.

You're very impatient.

Time must be slipping away
in the living world.

You're concerned
your friends will revive you too soon.

Did you really think
I could be fooled so easily?

I will die for her. No tricks, no games.

I will take her place honourably.

Like a Klingon.

If you choose this path, your friends
will not be able to save you.

- No, I forbid it!
- I understand.

Your dishonour has been lifted.
Sto-Vo-Kor awaits.

- I will not abandon my daughter.
- She has made the choice. Go!

Daughter of Miral,
embrace your fate.

- Neural patterns are breaking down.
- I'm initiating resuscitation.

Vent the ionised particles.

- 20 milligrams cordrazine!
- I'm deactivating the force field.

Welcome to Gre'thor.

- This isn't Gre'thor.
- I assure you it is.

You've taken your mark.

- Is this some kind of joke?
- This is no laughing matter.

You've met Mr Neelix, our ambassador
to the recently deceased.

Questions, comments, suggestions -
he's your man.

If you'll follow me.

I'll be performing Berlioz's "Faust”
tomorrow night in holodeck 2.

Feel free to stop by.

15 decks, computers augmented
with bio-neural circuitry.

Cruising speed warp 9.975.
Not that you'll be going anywhere.

- No Cavern of Despair?
- Don't need it.

- I don't consider Voyager hell.
- Have you ever been truly happy here?

If you thought 50 years here
would be difficult, try eternity.

This is a great day for B'Elanna Torres.

A day
when we pay tribute to her dishonour.

- She's not responding.
- Neural activity 48%, 37%...

- We're losing her.
- We must stabilise her functions.

I'm attempting neural resequencing.

B'Elanna's misdeeds have led her here.
She comes with no valour, no glory.

Nothing to celebrate in song and story.

- You have no one to blame but yourself.
- You've kept us at arm's length.

- Even Tom, who you claim to love.
- Hear, hear.

I tried to assist you, but you resisted.
You're stubborn.

She inherited that from her mother.
And the forehead.

- 80, how's the afterlife?
- It's not what I had in mind.

Are you searching your subconscious
for the symbols meaning?

Lieutenant Torres, defend yourself.

Captain?

What are you still doing here?
I released you to Sto-Vo-Kor.

- You can't free me till you free yourself.
- I don't understand.

- You never did.
- I did everything the ritual said.

- I came back for you.
- Forget it. It's meaningless.

Meaningless? I died for you.

No, you didn't. It's not your time.

You still don't understand this journey.

- Then tell me.
- Request denied.

- What do you want?
- Who are you asking?

You. Kahless. The tooth fairy. Anyone
who'll tell me what I'm supposed to do.

You are the only one
who can answer that question.

Choose to live, B'Elanna.

- Neural activity at 23%.
- Initiate cortical stimulation.

- Pulses at 50 millijoules.
- No effect.

- Increase to 70 millijoules.
- Come on, B'Elanna.

Defend yourself.

You want me to fight?
You want me to be a good little Klingon?

- Is that it?
- You've let your anger consume you.

- Now it's consuming us.
- She's condemned us.

- Misery loves company.
- Get away.

- Or what? You'll kill us where we stand?
- Tell me what you want me to be.

A good Starfleet officer?
A good Maquis?

Lover? Daughter?

- Just tell me what you want from me.
- We don't want anything from you.

- We only want you.
- We're not your enemies.

Defend yourself.

I don't know how.

I'm so tired of fighting.

We know.

You've taken the first step
of your journey.

- And what about you?
- We will see each other again.

- In Sto-Vo-Kor?
- Yes. In Sto-Vo-Kor.

Or maybe when you get home.

Mother?

God, I'm alive.

Welcome back.