Star Trek: Deep Space Nine

Last season on Star Trek: Discovery...

This is mutiny. Move, Saru. Fire.

Stand down.

Captain, incoming.

Warp signatures detected.

No!

For the charge of mutiny,

it is our ruling that the defendant

be stripped of rank and hereby sentenced

to imprisonment for life.

You helped start a war.

Don't you want to help me end it?

We will be able to materialize anywhere

in the known universe. That's how you beat the Klingons.

Only one more jump.

We are in a parallel universe,

one governed by the Terran Empire.

Don't you bow before your emperor?

My so-called captain's not from my universe.

He's from yours.

Klingons are on the verge

of wiping out the Federation.

We do not have the luxury of principles.

That is all we have, Admiral.

Do we need a mutiny today

to prove who we are?

We are Starfleet.

The war is over. There were triumphs.

Victories of spirit.

Courage beyond reason.

These were bleak times,

times we cannot forget.

We will not allow desperation

to destroy moral authority.

That is the United Federation of Planets.

Captain on the bridge.

Acting captain.

Please take your stations.

Lieutenant Detmer,

set course for Vulcan and engage

at maximum warp. Aye, sir.

Incoming transmission.

Identify the source, please.

I'm getting the Federation ID code.

I-It's choppy.

Trying to clean it up, sir.

Helm, slow us down.

Dropping us out of warp now, sir.

Hail is from Captain Pike, sir.

It's the USS Enterprise.

Space.

The final frontier.

Above us.

Around us.

Within us.

We have always looked to the stars

to discover who we are.

A thousand centuries ago in Africa,

the ÷¦Xam Abathwa tribe gathered to share a story.

The tale of a girl who dug her hands in the wood ash

and threw it into the sky to create

the Milky Way.

And hidden there,

a secret buried among the eternal stars,

was a message.

An enormous letter in a bottle made of space and time,

visible only to those whose hearts were open enough

to receive it.

A child has come to us.

She's human.

She is orphaned.

It is our responsibility.

What happened to her parents?

The unthinkable.

My name is Amanda.

What's yours?

Michael.

I bless you, Michael.

All my life.

Do you want to meet our son?

When I first heard the story

of the girl who made the stars,

I wasn't ready to understand.

I still don't know if I am.

Spock.

Spock.

This is Michael Burnham.

She will be staying with us.

You will be teaching her the ways of Vulcan.

I expect you to be friends.

Hello.

Ops, please tell me what is wrong.

Does she need our assistance?

Unable to comply, Captain.

Enterprise is completely off-line.

Except for life support.

Scans show 203 crew members aboard.

The vessel's entire complement is alive.

They're still sending a priority one distress call,

but the signal's too compromised for voice transmission.

Morse code might get through!

Sorry. Sorry. It's just there was static.

You know, then Comms kind of turned it down.

But... I mean, obviously.

Sorry.

Hey, go, Comms.

Um, can Enterprise switch

to Morse code? Excellent suggestion, Ensign.

Mr. Bryce, please try that.

A former colleague

is an ethnobotanist on that ship.

I've seen its specs.

Only something catastrophic

could knock her out. Helm, do you detect

any escape pods or shuttles? Negative, sir.

Damn, she's a beauty.

Transmission coming through. Captain Christopher Pike

requests permission to come aboard.

He has an engineer and science officer with him.

Permission granted.

Commander Burnham,

you will join me in welcoming them.

Yes, sir.

I had not expected to see Spock again.

Neither had I.

Attention, all. Prepare for duty.

Please report to your division duty officer.

Your brother is the science officer on the Enterprise.

Foster brother.

I can sense your endocrine system in overdrive.

: You are anxious to see him.

I'm fine, Saru. Oh, I was using the term

in its most positive sense, meaning "anticipatory."

We received a priority alert

from one of Starfleet's most prominent ships.

I am on mission and in problem-solving mode.

That's what you're sensing.

Hmm.

Order confirmed Transport coordinates locked.

Do you have any siblings?

Oh, a sister.

Siranna.

Uh, I do not expect a reunion with her.

Sadly, there is terrain between us we cannot navigate.

I know the feeling.

Transporter locked status. Energizing.

Welcome aboard,

Captain Pike.

I am Commander Saru,

acting captain of the USS Discovery.

How may we be of service?

Well, Commander, this is awkward,

but back in Mojave, I learned the best way

to get into a cold stream was to jump right in.

Uh... yeah.Ah.

I'm here at Starfleet's order to take command of the Discovery

under Regulation 19, Section "C."

Well, we received

no notice from Starfleet.

Because I asked to deliver the news myself

out of a respect for what you

and your crew have been through.

Forgive me, Captain.

Your directive is only instituted

under three contingencies:

when an imminent threat is detected,

when the lives of Federation citizens are in danger,

or when no other officers of equal or higher rank

are present to mitigate this threat.

May I ask under which contingency you are here?

All of them.

I see where the Federation puts its pennies.

Do not covet thy neighbor's starship, Commander.

Besides, we've got the new uniforms.

And lovely uniforms they are, Captain.

Very colorful.

Over the past 24 hours, Federation sensors picked up

seven red bursts spread out

across more than 30,000 light-years.

Just long enough for us to get a reading

and then, just as suddenly, disappeared.

Except for one.

The chaos of natural phenomena.

Are they some kind of signal?

That's what we're calling it, but I'll leave the rest

to my science officer. Your ball, Connolly.

The signals don't seem to be moons, stars

or any other type of planetoid.

Truth is, we can't detect anything about them

or engage with them in any way.

Every time we tried to scan,

the computer went haywire.

Like a compass at the North Pole.

Well put.

Why didn't we think of that, Connolly? Huh?

Think of all the syllables that gave their lives.

The metaphor seemed a bit simplistic.

I believe it's a simile.

Then I owe you a simile, Commander...?

Burnham. Michael Burnham.