05x13 - Gravity

[bunniefuu]

The Kol-Ut Shan.
A cornerstone of our beliefs.

Infinite diversity in
infinite combinations.

I know all about Vulcan philosophies.

- Why have you come here?
- I was sent against my will.

Then I suggest you leave.

- I'm not a prisoner?
- Only of your emotions.

Or so I have been told.

- My emotions free me.
- I see.

It's regrettable
that I won't be able to teach you.

Where should I go?

Are you seeking my counsel?

I can't return home.
My father has banished me.

- Your school?
- They've revoked my seat.

- Why?
- I refused to deny myself passion,

the way you
and men like my father do.

You reject logic?

If I was meant to deny feelings,
why was I born with them?

- Where's the logic in that?
- Hidden for you to find.

Or in plain sight for you to ignore.

- You speak in riddles. Truth scares you.
- You're right. It does scare me.

You are surprised to hear a Vulcan
master admit to having emotions?

- Yes.
- Emotions can be a powerful tool.

To deny their existence is illogical,
but you must learn to control them.

Why?

Do you wish to be taught?

I would question everything you say.

You would not be a worthy pupil
otherwise.

Let us begin. Sit down, Tuvok.

Sorry?

Either the universal translator's off-line,
or I hit my head hard.

All right. Take it easy.

All right. All right. Take it easy.

This? Listen, I really need this.

OK. OK.

First day in town,
I've already been mugged.

I'm Commander Tuvok
of the starship Voyager.

Tuvok.

- Tuvok.
- Yes.

And you?

- Noss.
- Noss.

We'll go to my vessel.

I see you've already been there.

Mayday. Paris to Voyager. Respond.

Come on.

Her name is Noss. She was att*cked
by two humanoid males.

- Sure she didn't att*ck them?
- They attempted to rob her.

Seems to be a local pastime.

She requires medical attention.

Love to help,
but somebody stole our medkits.

Food.

- What's the status of the shuttle?
- Fractures throughout the hull.

Environmental systems down,
impulse engines are beyond repair.

Told you we should have brought
the Delta Flyer.

- Communications are functional.
- Won't do us any good.

Every time I transmit a signal, it gets
bounced back by the distortion field.

It looks like we fell
into some kind of gravity well.

As far as I can tell, this planet
is part of an entire solar system

that is stuck in a pocket of subspace.

Fascinating.

Well, scientific interest aside,
I don't see any easy way out of here.

No doubt Voyager has begun
a rescue effort. The Doctor?

His emitter was damaged in the crash.

I'll try and repair it and get him on-line.

Make it your top priority.

What is it?

13 humanoids approaching.
The same species that att*cked her.

Gather supplies. We're leaving.

Is it smart to abandon the shuttle?

Noss appears to have survived here for
some time. She may know of a shelter.

Whatever you say.

Doesn't look like
this bird's gonna fly either.

Minimal power and life support, but
the ship is protected by a force field.

That explains how she's been able
to survive here.

- Anything resembling an engine?
- Engine debris 2 kilometres away.

Same configuration as this vessel.

Great. We've got two unusable ships

and the only way Voyager will detect our
distress call is if they land on top of us.

- Progress?
- Optronic relays took heavy damage.

I'm bypassing the primary circuits.

Come on, doc. I know you're in there.

- I'm guessing we hit a snag.
- An accurate assumption.

- You speak her language?
- Universal translator's in my program.

Ask her how long she's been here, if she
can get back through that sinkhole.

What did she say?

She said she's been here 14 seasons.

In that time, she's seen many ships
come down, but none go back up.

Come back, you little bloodsucker.

What's worse,
catching them or eating them?

- No poison.
- They may not be poisonous.

But they give me the creeps.

Maybe I should have left the hunting
to you and Tuvok.

Let me.

Looks delicious.

Shut down my program? Why?

We may need your mobile emitter
as a source of power.

I'm a doctor, not a battery.

Until we're rescued, I must insist
that you remain off-line.

Make way for the mighty hunters.

If Paris's hunting ability is any
indication, we should take him off-line.

Thanks for the vote of confidence, doc.

The hunt was good.

Impressive.

Voyager has fifteen decks.
A crew of 152.

Warp and impulse engines.

- I want to see.
- Someday, perhaps.

Tell me about you there.

I am the chief tactical officer.

What else?

Can you be more specific?

Your duties. Where you sleep.

What you eat. Music.

- Friends?
- Why is any of that relevant?

Because it is you.

When I first met her,
she wouldn't even look at me.

But she warmed up after three years.

The longest flirtation
in Starfleet history.

- No kidding.
- She sounds fascinating.

I just hope I see her again.

You must really...

Love her very much.

Yeah.

- More spiders?
- No, thank you. Three's my limit.

I will assist you.

Well, I suppose
it's time I shut down my program.

Good night, doc.

- She likes you.
- She has been alone for many years.

She appreciates our company.

No. I mean, she likes you.

- What are you implying?
- Come on, Tuvok.

- You may be cold, but you're not blind.
- Need I remind you that I am married?

Your wife is 50,000 light years away
in a different layer of space.

The chances of you ever seeing her
again are practically non-existent.

Excuse me.

- What are you doing?
- Recalibrating the distress beacon.

Listen. What I said in there
about your wife.

I'm sorry.
I didn't mean to hurt your feelings.

I have no feelings for you to hurt.

I think you do.

You work hard to bury them,
but they're there.

And even if they're not,
this is home now.

You might as well accept it and try to
find as much happiness as you can.

Listen. You have a chance to make
a decent life for yourself here.

There is still a possibility Voyager will
rescue us. You may see Torres again.

If I didn't know you better,
I'd say you were trying to cheer me up.

- Is there a point to your pessimism?
- It's not pessimism.

It's practicality. You of all people
should understand that.

I've never met your wife,
but if she's half as logical as you are,

I bet she'd tell you the same thing.

Your playing matchmaker is misguided.
I am not experiencing Pon farr.

What difference does it make?
You obviously care about Noss.

If you won't admit it to me,
admit it to yourself.

- I respect her ability to survive.
- It's more than that.

- I've seen the way you look at her.
- What way is that?

Like someone
who wishes he wasn't Vulcan.

I'm sorry I was born Vulcan.

Self-pity.

- Are you cataloguing my emotions?
- What is the source of your self-pity?

Isn't it obvious? If I wasn't Vulcan,
I wouldn't be going through this ritual.

You see only what is in front of you.

- You must learn to see behind you.
- Another riddle.

- I have no eyes to see behind me.
- You have the eyes of memory.

The knowledge of why you are here
and why you have lost control.

Tell me your story.

- My father's already explained it.
- I wish to hear it from you.

Her name's Jara.
Her father's a Terrellian diplomat.

She has been granted a seat
at my school.

And you have developed
an emotional attraction toward her.

Yes.

You love her. Does she love you?

No. She's...

Jara doesn't return my feelings.

What if I were to say that I received
a letter from your father

telling me that Jara is in love
with one of your fellow students?

That's a lie!

- Who is it?
- Jealousy?

- I'll challenge him.
- That would be illogical.

Because I have received no such letter.

- You're trying to trick me.
- I'm trying to help you to understand.

Love is the most dangerous emotion
of all.

It produces many other emotions -
jealousy, shame, rage, grief.

You must learn to suppress them all
otherwise they will consume you.

I can sense emotions
building inside you,

like a gathering storm.

If we begin now,
we may be able to stop them.

Captain's log, supplemental.

It's been over an hour since the shuttle
disappeared from sensors.

- I'm not detecting any debris.
- Maybe the shuttle was tractored.

Scan the region for plasma emissions,
anything that indicates another ship.

- Nothing out of the ordinary.
- There must be something out there.

Shuttles don't just vanish
into thin air.

- It's a gravimetric shear.
- Source unknown.

Red Alert. Helm, full ahead.

We're caught in some kind of subspace
sinkhole. It's pulling us in.

- Gravimetric shear's increasing.
- Go to warp.

- I can't establish a stable field.
- We need more power to engines.

We've got to counter
the gravitational pull.

Vent three million isodynes of plasma
from nacelles. Reverse shield polarity.

- We're clear.
- Move us away. Stand down Red Alert.

Secure all stations.

I'd say we have a pretty good idea
what happened to that shuttle.

The anomaly is approximately
600 metres in diameter.

It's out of phase with normal space.
It barely registers.

The distortion circumscribes a subspace
zone with a sun and three planets.

- Any sign of the shuttle?
- No.

- Time to use the multispatial probe.
- Agreed.

- What the hell is that?
- Vessel approaching off port bow.

- They've locked on a tractor beam.
- Captain to the bridge.

I'll say this one more time.
Disengage your tractor beam.

You were in danger
of being pulled into the distortion.

- You should show gratitude.
- We appreciate your help.

But we didn't ask for...

Captain, this is Mr Yost.

Supervisor Yost.
Renovation Team Nova.

Captain Janeway
of the starship Voyager.

Until tomorrow, I suggest you stay two
million kilometres from the distortion.

- What happens tomorrow?
- The rift will be closed by then.

- Some of our crew are trapped inside.
- I am sorry.

We have lost 11 ships to the distortion
over the last year.

- It must be sealed.
- What about your people?

Even if there were survivors,
there's no way to rescue them.

The best we can do is prevent others
from being trapped.

We can't abandon our crew.
If you could delay your mission...

My orders are to seal the rift
by this time tomorrow.

If you want to attempt a rescue between
now and then, the risk is yours to take.

But I wouldn't advise it.

- Launch the probe.
- Aye, Captain.

Enhance the sensors. Do what you can
to find Tom and Tuvok.

I'll look for a way to counter
those gravitational forces.

Come in. I've been brushing up on
sinkholes, quantum singularities.

- Any luck?
- It all leads to the same conclusion.

Mono-directional.
What goes in doesn't come out.

If it's any consolation, something's
coming out of that anomaly.

Telemetry from our probe. We located
the distress beacon on a Class-D planet.

Vulcan, human, alien lifesigns.
At least we know they're alive.

Keep reading.

There's astronomical data covering
a three-month period. How is that?

- There's a temporal differential.
- How big a differential?

Difficult to say. But every hour for us
could be weeks or months for them.

Months trying to survive
in a Class-D environment?

And it's likely they've assumed
we left them behind long ago.

Ready for the bad news?
The gravitational stress is increasing.

The sinkhole's on the verge of collapse.

When it does,
everything inside will be crushed.

Noss!

Medical tricorder.

- We were ambushed.
- Give me 20 milligrams of inaprovaline.

- They got a pair of resonator coils.
- Fractured ribs, subdural haematoma.

- Will he live?
- Vulcans are resilient. He'll be fine.

How long has it been
since I was last activated?

- Almost two months.
- Two months!

So, what's new?

Same old thing. Fighting off scavengers,
hunting spiders.

No word from Voyager?

They're probably 300 light years
closer to home by now.

I think I should remain on-line
until Mr Tuvok is fully recovered.

It's good to have you back, doc.

Rest.

How long was I unconscious?

- Too many hours.
- Mr Paris?

He'll be fine.

I was afraid.

It is good to see your eyes.

Don't.

I only want... to show you how I feel.

You... feel nothing for me?

I told you. I don't experience emotion.

I have developed an appreciation
and respect for you. Nothing more.

Nothing?

I'm sorry. I cannot return your affection.

You cannot or you will not?

- A minor distinction.
- Logic.

I hate logic!

Your emotions
will only exacerbate the situation.

Insulting me will not help.

We can use the probe
as a transporter relay.

It'll take time to reconfigure
the scanners, but it should work.

Any reason we can't use the same relay
to send a com signal?

- I don't see why not.
- Let them know help is on the way.

Captain to the bridge.

- They've started ahead of schedule.
- Hail them.

Yes.

You said you wouldn't begin
for six hours.

- We're ready now.
- We need another two hours for rescue.

I'm sorry.

- How long till they seal the rift?
- Approximately 30 minutes.

Then that's all we've got.

Tuvok!

Hey!

I am meditating, Mr Paris.

I don't care.

I trust there is an urgent reason
for your lack of courtesy.

You're damn right there is.
What did you say to her?

Our conversation was private.

Whatever you said, she's talking
about leaving by herself,

because it's too painful
to be around you.

She is under the influence
of unfettered emotions.

Well, maybe you're able
to fetter your emotions,

but the rest of us don't have that luxury.

She is a living, breathing woman,

who for reasons I can't begin to fathom
is in love with you.

If you're incapable of returning her
feelings, show some compassion.

Try to let her down easy.

There is no easy way
to recover from infatuation.

Really? And what do you know
about infatuation?

- More than you might imagine.
- Enlighten me.

I have no intention
of continuing this conversation.

Come on, Tuvok. Come on!

It's just you, me and the rocks.

When I was a young man, I experienced
an emotional attraction toward a woman.

It nearly destroyed me.

- Your wife?
- No. Her name was Jara.

A Terrellian female.

I would have violated
every tenet of Vulcan philosophy

simply to be near her.

She must have really been something.

I lost all sense of who I was.

The emotional attraction I felt for her
became a kind of insanity.

Tuvok, everyone feels a little insane
when they fall in love.

But it's worth the risk.

For you, perhaps. But I am Vulcan.

My natural emotions are erratic, volatile.

If I don't control them,
they will control me.

Whatever happened to Jara?

I chose to leave her.
I spent several months in isolation,

studying with a Vulcan master.

I learned to suppress my emotions.

Too bad.

- Gravimetric distortions.
- What's causing them?

Unknown.

No response to our hails.

At this rate, their beam will seal
the distortion in 29 minutes.

- Transporter status.
- I completed reconfiguration.

But we can only relay
one transporter beam.

We have to get them within a two-metre
radius of their distress beacon.

- I've opened a channel.
- Voyager to away team.

- What is it?
- The distress beacon. A transmission.

Can you route it
through your com system?

If I'm right, this message was sent nine
hours ago on a very slow carrier wave.

- Can you speed it up??
- I'll try.

Voyager...

...to away team.

A transporter beam with a radius of
two metres will activate in 30 minutes.

30 minutes.
That would have been eight hours ago.

There's more.

We've detected a temporal differential
between our positions.

According to our calculations, the ratio
is 0.4744 seconds per minute.

Repeat. Voyager to away team.
A transporter beam with a radius of...

According to that formula, 30 minutes
is two days, 11 hours, 47 seconds.

Well, we've waited this long.

Tom.

The force field is holding.

Not for long if they keep pelting us
with photon grenades.

How can we hold them off
for two more days?

The rift will be sealed
in less than two minutes.

Move us into range.
Stand by for transport.

Yes, ma'am.

The force field's losing power. Time?

We have another hour before transport.

- Where are you going?
- To repair the field generator.

- I will accompany you.
- No. You stay here.

- Prepare for att*ck.
- You can't go alone.

Risking two lives would be illogical.

- We're in transporter range.
- Link up with the probe.

- And relay the signal.
- Stand by. I have a lock on the beacon.

They're supposed to be ready in 32
seconds. Hope they don't stand us up.

Begin 20-second countdown
on my mark.

Now.

- Less than 10 minutes to transport.
- Where's Noss?

I'll find her.

15 seconds. 14... 13...

Tuvok.

I could not leave you behind.

Nine... eight... seven...

Now, Mr Paris.

Hurry.

Four.. Three.. Two...

Initialise transport sequence. Energise.

We've got them.

Welcome back. Who...

A friend.

Commander Tuvok, personal log.
Stardate 52438.9.

We are en route to Noss's home world.

As I prepare to say goodbye, I find
myself experiencing a discomfort.

Tuvok.

- Weird day.
- Problems?

I've spent the last two months
wondering if I'd see B'Elanna again.

As far as she's concerned,
it's only two days.

I expected her to miss me, too.

Were it not for the time differential, she
would have experienced a sense of loss.

You know something?

I always thought that beneath
that cold Vulcan exterior

lay an even colder Vulcan interior.

Now I'm convinced
you're a hopeless romantic.

There is no need to insult me.

Here they are now. I was just getting
Noss's recipe for sautéed spiders.

She told me
how much you enjoyed them.

Let's just say it's an acquired taste.

Bye, Tom.

Thank you.

Come on, Neelix.

- Of course.
- Crewman.

I'm sorry.

For what?

I know how difficult this was for you.
For us.

I just wish things had been different.

As do I.

I understand.

Thank you.

Live long and prosper, Noss.

You, too.

Infinite diversity.

In infinite combinations.

Your training is now complete.
You have done well.

- Thank you.
- You are prepared to return to the world.

Grief, anger, fear and especially love
will never thr*aten you again.

I am grateful.