Star Trek: Discovery

Previously on Star Trek: Discovery...

Attention, all vessels.

Leland's fleet has arrived.

Control will not stop coming.

Eventually, Leland

will find you.

Last warning.

Transmit the data to me

or you'll be destroyed.

The Sphere's data has already merged with Discovery.

As long as Discovery exists here and now,

this will never be over.

Discovery has to go to the future.

Commander Burnham will use the suit

to open a wormhole.

Discovery will be on autopilot behind her.

We're here because we're staying with you.

But I don't know what the future holds.

It is done, Michael,

and we are running out of time.

The housing is prepped.

I need that last panel.

Oh, my God. No, no, no, no.

Paul, your injuries are, are pretty severe.

I'm going to induce coma.

You'll be fine.

This does not end here.

Actually, it does.

No!

Commander Burnham, on your mark.

Burnham to Discovery.

Let's go.

Lieutenant Detmer, full power. Follow our signal.

Back to stations!

Lieutenant Detmer!

Everyone, everyone, back to stations now!

Short-range sensors to maximum...

Feels like my head is in a vice.

Tidal forces from the wormhole.

Like g-forces but nastier.

Must've knocked us all out.

Including my damn back.

Commander, I can't get control!

Shields are collapsing!

Injuries on multiple decks!

Sensors are not responding, sir!

Critical systems failing!

- Detmer. - Sir,

Discovery is unresponsive.

Rerouting to gain control.

Brace!

Brace! Brace!

We'll disintegrate in 15 seconds at current velocity.

I've got minimal controls back on line, sir.

Recommendation, Lieutenant?

A thermal roll.

Let the top of the shields take some of the brunt.

Quickly, please.

Go hard.

A glacier?

I need the spot with the highest thickness and density levels.

- On it. - Ready the graviton beam.

Activate deflector shields in bursts

to cushion our landing. On my mark.

- Yes, Commander. - Aye, Commander.

At five degrees from port side, uh, ice is 50 meters thick.

- Copy. - Is that deep enough?

We're gonna find out.

This is Commander Saru.

All decks prepare for impact.

Rhys, fire now.

Deflector shields are off-line!

Hold us steady, Lieutenant!

- All right, Detmer! - Detmer!

Way to go, Detmer!

All right, Detmer!

Well done, Lieutenant Detmer.

Someone buy that woman a drink.

And a neuroblocker for me.

Keyla?

Yeah.

We made it.

We're good.

You need to go to sickbay.

Uh, no, it's nothing.

Your comrade is correct, Lieutenant.

Get to sickbay.

Yes, sir.

Status reports?

Tactical systems are down.

As are long-range comms

and all inship communications, Commander.

Sensors are not responding.

We don't know where we are,

and we don't know when we are, sir.

My back might be short-circuiting

my brain right now,

but I don't recall Terralysium being particularly icy.

Can you speculate on the cause of the systems outage?

Based on how hard we hit,

probably a plasma manifold rupture.

We'll have to find and fix all the blown

EPS relays and conduits on the ship

before we can go anywhere.

We can't fly.

We can't call for help.

We can't call Michael.

She's alone.

We are completely disconnected

at present, yes.

But...

we are also together.

And alive.

If Commander Burnham landed elsewhere,

I trust she is aware that we will find her

as soon as we are able.

Begin a search for the affected relays and conduits.

Inform all you come in contact with to do the same.

Crew members are to work in pairs until

internal communications are reestablished.

Commander, we can't locate

the problems without internal sensors.

I can modify the tricorders,

like I did on the Hiawatha.

I will survey the damage in person.

And...

I am aware

that you all may feel

an expedited need to see and understand

what is out there.

But our first priority is in here.

The integrity of this ship and this crew.

Am I clear?

Aye, sir.

Lieutenant Rhys, you have the conn.

Ensign, with me.

Coming through on your right.

It's, uh...

It's odd.

Uh, there are, um... Excuse me... large pockets,

uh, on the surface where the atmosphere has higher levels

of oxygen than the rest of the planet.

Is there any discernible pattern? A design?

Yes, sir.

Ea-Each pocket is essentially a-a decagon,

which would in-indicate to me that someone made them.

I don't know, but it's the only explanation.

Then we are not on Terralysium.

No, sir.

Um, but there is evidence of an active settlement

within one of these pockets, so there...

...there's life.

There is... life.

How long for repairs, Mr. Bryce?

Well, it's not a repair, sir.

For this particular transtator, it's...

a complete rebuild.

Six hours, minimum,

assuming we have enough rubindium.

So, no communications until then.

Um, you have some, uh,

Leland on your shoes.

Somebody had to make sure he was dead.

Someone else needs to clean the spore cube.

There's gooey bits of him everywhere. You.

Did I hear you say we still have no communications?

Uh...

He will complete repairs as soon as he is able, Commander.

All available hands are busy repairing the EPS grid.

Do you require medical attention?

Of course not. We can spare one engineer.

Uh... I have no desire to leave Commander Burnham on her own,

but we must get all systems up and running

as quickly as possible.

Wherever we have arrived,

we are strangers.

We cannot assume that we are welcome.

- Carry on, Mr. Bryce. - Yes, sir.

Oh.

Commander, uh, sorry, excuse me.

Paul? Paul?

I know. I know.

Dr. Pollard!

Biobed.

I'm going to induce coma.

You'll be fine.

Where...

Can you hear me?

Hmm?

Follow my fingers.

Good. Good.

- We made it through. - Mm.

But it was a pretty rough landing.

And I wouldn't have brought you out so soon,

but there are some people in really bad shape.

We need your biobed.

Worse than me?

Yeah.

Wh... When are we?

We don't know when we are.