Previously on Star Trek: Discovery:
We are creating a new way to fly.
If the Discovery can be anywhere, and gone in an instant,
that's how you beat the Klingons.
The only other female Michael I ever heard of was the mutineer.
You're not her, are you?
I'd like to extend an official invitation to join the Discovery.
- 8000 are dead because of you. - 8186.
Klingons won't stop until they destroy everything.
And we can't stop them
without you.
Who is she to you?
Her name is L'Rell. She was my torturer.
If none of that had happened, I wouldn't be here.
What did you do to me?
I will never let them hurt you.
I'll do one more jump. Only one more jump.
Computer is reading it as an incomplete navigation sequence.
Captain, I'm afraid, I don't know where we are.
- Yellow alert. - Yellow alert.
- This isn't Starbase 46. - Yellow alert.
- Where the hell are we? - Our sensors are...
- recalibrating, sir. - What happened here?
I don't remember reports of battles near Organia.
Blast, scoring and damage patterns are consistent with Federation weapons,
- but the hull signatures are a little off. - Off?
Wreckage is Klingon, but hull density analysis
registers outside acceptable margins.
- Is anything here a threat? - No life signs or power signatures.
Small favors.
Captain, our navigational array is malfunctioning.
According to readings, we jumped to our intended coordinates.
Our position relative to the galactic center is confirmed.
But almost nothing else is where it's supposed to be.
Nice of you to join us, Tyler. I know it's only a yellow alert.
Sorry, sir.
Captain, a vessel is approaching at sub light speed.
- Seems like a Vulcan cruiser. - On screen.
Verify materialization sequence under way.
Vulcans must have destroyed those Klingons.
- Should we hail them, sir? - Yes, open a channel.
Unidentified Vulcan cruiser, this is the U.S.S. Discovery. Respond.
Captain, Vulcans are powering up weapons.
They must have registered a Klingon ship nearby.
Red alert. Shields up.
Evasive pattern beta four pi.
- They're doubling back. - Unable to lock on.
Manually shoot in their direction.
Where's that assist from?
Incoming transmission from the Cooper. Audio only.
Cooper? Isn't she supposed to be undergoing a refit?
Send it through.
Spooked by rebels, Discovery? You're losing your edge.
Don't worry, we'll take care of them. Cooper out.
Vulcan rebels? Firing on Starfleet?
Engineering, spore drive status?
Lieutenant Stamets is nonresponsive.
He's stabilized, but he can't get in the reaction cube.
Spore drive is offline, captain.
I may have something. The quantum signature of the Cooper,
as well as that of the Vulcan cruiser, are inconsistent with ours.
That's not possible. All matter native to our universe
resonates with the same quantum signature. Nothing changes it.
That's true.
Unless...
this is not our universe.
The idea of parallel worlds has been around since the 20th century.
You and Stamets believe the spore drive
- could jump between them? - It was a theory I was working on.
Stamets was keen to chase it with me after the war.
These areas don't correlate to anything in the known universe.
We suspect the mycelial network extends beyond anything imagined.
A vast system, underpinning quantum realities.
But the exact coordinates of esoteric destinations eluded us.
Apparently the 133 jumps we made filled in the gaps.
Fortunate coincidence.
I'd say unfortunate. Wouldn't you, Number One?
It's worse than that.
The Klingon cloak-breaking algorithm we're refining,
- we can't send it to Starfleet now. - That's why we have to make it back.
Or the ships are sitting ducks. The war is as good as lost.
Stamets brought us here accidentally.
Examine the spore drive's navigational logs closely.
I pushed Stamets too hard. The jumps scrambled his ability
to hold Starbase 46's coordinates in his head.
We need to understand where we are and how to survive.
Then we'll find a way home.
Recalibrate sensors. You look to the wreckage.
- See if we can learn something. - Yes, captain.
It's a palace. Stay close.
Lieutenant Stamets, don't hate me.
But what is the spore germination rate again?
I know you always have to remind me,
but, uh, the ideal moisture level in the cultivation bay
is 85 or 87 percent relative humidity?
Um...
I was just... I was hoping I could maybe jog his memory with familiar things.
Mainly how annoying he finds me.
He's in neurological disregulation, unlike I've ever seen.
To palace.
- Paul. Paul, no. - To the palace.
Oh, my God.
I'm okay.
I'm so sorry.
I should've told you about the side effects from the jumps.
- I shouldn't have kept it secret. - Paul's your superior. He gave an order.
You didn't do this.
- Speak of the devil. - Cadet, excuse us.
- Yes, sir. - Commander Gotthelf,
please report immediately to Deck 2.
How is he?
Alternately catatonic,
then prone to bursts of nonsensical speech.
He's contained for his own safety. Adrenals are spiking uncontrollably.
I don't know if he'll be the same, let alone jump again.
I know you blame me for this and you're right.
I'm his captain. I'm responsible for his well-being.
Yes.
You were.
Fortunately, his well-being falls to me now.
I'm afraid not.
I'm handing his case over to another doctor.
No.
Medicine requires professional objectivity,
Dr. Culber, and your bias, your personal bias compromises that.
- It compromises his recovery. - Suddenly you care about protocol.
You wanted me to fake Stamets' medical records as a smoke screen.
I bought you time to push him into all those jumps
and break the Klingon cloak.
So, he did.
So, we did.
I'm most qualified to care for him. Do you want him to get better?
- Did you want this to happen? - You're too emotional to handle it.
Maybe I let my emotions carry me away. My need to win the war.
Look where it got us.
You have your orders.
Attention, all personnel...
I detect what looks to be a Klingon central data core
in that wreckage.
Inside a larger debris array, 200 meters ahead of you.
Glad sensors are working again.
Vulcan high-level math?
- Good old-fashioned human know-how. - Copy that.
Readings are good.
The data core is intact. If we can bring it onboard,
we can learn what those Klingons knew about this universe.
- Proceed with extraction. - Closing in on the cockpit.
Core is likely part of the computer at the ship's rear.
Should be easy enough to extract.
Seeing bodies in there.
Why can't he maintain a course?
Flight control malfunction?
- Burnham. - No life signs
in that wreckage, lieutenant. You're all clear.
Ready to proceed?
Tyler.
What the hell's he doing?
Lieutenant Tyler, get in there and extract that data core.
Aye, sir. Proceeding.
Approaching Klingon raider.
The bodies are...
a Vulcan and Andorian.
A Vulcan and an Andorian
commanding a Klingon ship?
I located the data core.
Looks intact. I'll clear some of the hull around it
with the laser cannon to extract cleanly.
Proceed with extreme caution, lieutenant.
A slight nick could corrupt the data or destroy the core completely.
Debris surface analysis is nonconclusive.
Got it.
Deflection system...
Get it to Engineering as fast as possible.
You can relax, too.
He's safe now.
Sir?
I need to rely on my crew to act professionally at all times.
Particularly now we're in dangerous waters.
So, can I count on you, Burnham?
Yes, sir.
Good.
What are you doing standing there?
You can't hurt me anymore.
Now, why would I want to hurt you?
What did you do to me?
On the prison ship?
- Tell me. - You know what we did.
We did it together.
So many things.
- You have such appetites. - You forced me.
Does thinking that make you feel better?
I'm having flashes of things. Things... I don't remember.
Procedures, surgeries.
Sweet Tyler,
open this cell,
and I'll tell you everything you want to know.
Very good.
So much more...
familiar.
Tell me.
Whom do we seek?
Kahless.
How do we find him?
Together.
Kahless, give us light to see.
Forever.
Will he hide from us always?
Never.
What is your name?
What did you do to me? I'm not myself.
You have another name. Say it.
You know my name!
Tell me what you did to my mind, to my soul,
- or scream it as you die. - Prayer should make you remember.
- Something is wrong. - You're damn right! Now tell me.
What...? What am I doing? What am I doing?
Wait. Wait. Wait.
You will come back to me.
Attention, all personnel, black alert drills for Deck 7
have been canceled until further notice.
Isik for your thoughts?
- What's an isik? - It's an old Vulcan saying.
- No one knows where it's from. - Must make it hard to cash in.
What happened out there?
In the worker bee.
What do you mean?
Security briefing on Deck 1 in five minutes.
It happened again.
The flashes of memory. Worse this time.
Things I hadn't recalled about my torture.
Thanks for covering.
- You have to tell the captain. - I know. And I can't.
Why?
PTSD regs require full-duty quarantine until you can get treatment.
We're in another universe. I mean, how close is
- the nearest Starfleet medical center? - Who knows?
- It might be around the corner. - Maybe.
But until that turns out to be true, trust me.
What you went through
- on the Ship of the Dead... - Was a one-off.
Seeing those Klingons took me by surprise.
I can manage this, all right?
You just saw me manage this. You helped me manage it.
Just let me try and handle things.
At least for a little while, till we get home.
- And what if you can't? - Then I'll tell you. I promise.
I'm taking you at your word, Starfleet.
Specialist Burnham, please report to Engineering.
Duty calls.
The data core from the Klingon vessel, I got it open.
Well done, Tilly.
It's strange.
The core itself is Klingon, but these data chips are Vulcan design.
Should be compatible with our universal interface.
With this fused data technology and sharing of ships,
is it possible that in this universe,
the Vulcans, Andorians and Klingons have some sort of alliance?
Allied against... Against us?
I'll get into the interface and figure it out.
I know.
Me too.
It's weird being here without him.
But he's gonna get better.
- He has to, right? - Of course he does.
All right, let the xenoanthropologist get to work.
I'm downloading the Klingon raider's logs.
Images, battle plans, intelligence we found from the core.
So far we can conclude that are indeed in a parallel universe.
One not governed by the Federation, but by a fascistic
human-only organization known as the Terran Empire.
Most places and ships in our universe, like the Cooper, exist here.
- Same goes for people. - We could meet
- another version of ourselves? - Theoretically, yes.
Wow.
The Terrans appear to be the antithesis of us in every way.
They're an oppressive, racist, xenophobic culture
that dominates all known space.
And they're ruled by a faceless emperor.
- Those ships we found? - They're part of a rebellion.
That is made up essentially of all nonhuman species.
Fighting for freedom.
The rebellion fears and mistrusts humans.
Terran culture appears to be predicated upon
an unconditional hatred and rejection of anything and everything other.
That means us.
We won't ask these neighbors for a cup of sugar.
Captain to the bridge. Incoming vessel.
- It's the Cooper. - On our way.
We're being hailed. They asked to speak with the captain.
- They think we're their Discovery. - We have intel?
Scanning records from the core download. Wait.
Rebel logs show their ships being attacked by a vessel
with a warp signature matching our Discovery.
But with a quantum signature matching this universe.
They're hailing again.
That signature seems to have vanished at the same coordinates
where we popped in.
It is possible we switched places with their Discovery.
Run with Mr. Saru's theory, hope we don't bump into ourselves
- and blow our cover. - Captain?
Modifying our signature
- to match mirror Discovery. - Captain.
- Hold on! - If we don't respond,
we should prepare to be fired on.
- Open a channel. Audio only. - Belay that.
You can't take it, sir.
Examining mirror Discovery's crew. You're not its captain.
Who is?
But, uh, that's me.
That's me.
That's absurd.
- They're arming weapons. - Cadet.
- Looks like you're taking this. - Uh, what...? Uh, what do I say?
Just get rid of them as fast as possible and you talk as little as possible.
Might be hard for me. Have you noticed that I talk a lot?
Defy your every instinct.
Their phases are locked on. Raise shields?
No. Mr. Bryce, open a channel.
Aye, sir.
Hello, this is Captain Tilly. What the heck...? Hell. What the hell?
Hold your horses.
This is Captain Spoeneman.
- Why the delayed response, Discovery? - I was...
indisposed.
Everything okay over there? You made quick work of the rebels.
We got the stragglers. Any reason you're hanging around?
Expecting more kills? Keeping them to yourself?
We're experiencing mechanical issues.
Need a hand? We're not far.
And why are you not on screen?
Mechanical issues.
Here's my chief engineer.
I don't know who you are here yet.
Conceal your voice just in case.
How you doing? Everything's squared away here.
We got trouble with our visual emitters and the starboard nacelle.
But a bit of tweaking, we'll be good to go. All right?
Very well, Discovery. More rebel nests for us. Happy hunting.
Long live the Empire.
Good.
I'm sorry.
Next time, we might not get away with audio only.
We wanna live to get back home,
we have to make it so we look and act like we belong here.
Mr. Saru,
while we get up to speed on this universe,
see to it that the ship, crew...
and captain...
- are prepared. - Yes, sir.
I mean, fully prepared.
To successfully crash a party,
you have to look like you belong. You must project confidence.
You gained the rank of captain by stabbing your superior in bed.
- He was recovering from Crestian flu. - Not possible.
It's more than possible.
Your nicknames include The Slayer of Sorna Prime.
Every detail of this so-called Terran Empire...
must be replicated exactly.
"The Witch of Wurna Minor."
Wherever we may fall short,
we have to get creative.
And finally...
Captain Killy?
That's not very clever.
Our very survival relies on our ability to maintain this cover.
No matter what.
We are now the I.S.S. Discovery.
Are we civilians? Do we get uniforms?
We won't be needing them, sir.
I finally found the files on our Terran counterparts.
We're not here.
Where are we?
I'm presumed dead. You're a fugitive wanted for my murder.
- What happened? - The intelligence is fragmented.
Most of it was stolen from classified Terran files.
But it appears that you and I both enjoyed immense prestige here.
I was the captain of the Shenzhou.
And you had the Buran here, too, sir.
And my crew?
They alive?
No.
You attempted a coup against the emperor.
I was sent to stop you.
In the process, my shuttle was destroyed
by one of your followers, and I was killed.
Emperor laid waste to your ship in retaliation.
It's believed you escaped.
There's me hoping I'd find a better version of myself here.
Look out there.
Come on.
Amazing, isn't it?
Different universe,
and somehow the same people had a way to find each other.
Strongest argument I've seen for the existence of destiny.
Not sure I believe in destiny.
Is that so?
Sitting in that cell all alone, facing a life sentence of solitude,
future full of misery.
Part of you had to know it wasn't the end of your story.
You were destined for something more.
Destiny didn't get me out of prison.
You did that.
Well, let's agree to disagree.
For now.
So, who is this emperor?
There's no information in the rebel files.
Beyond that the emperor is savage.
Maybe it's not a bad thing you and I are ghosts.
I found something curious in the data. Potential way home.
I didn't know how to exploit it till now.
I think you might end up saving us all.
- It's a suicide mission. - No, listen, commander.
Rebel intelligence data suggests
we're not the first ship from our universe to be here.
It cites another Starfleet vessel.
The U.S.S. Defiant.
How's that possible?
At last review, the Defiant's patrolling Sector Six in our universe.
There may be a temporal anomaly at play.
It's unclear, but data suggests, in the future,
Defiant encounters a phenomenon
- that brings it to this universe's past. - Regardless,
Defiant is a Constitution-class vessel. It didn't get here by spore drive.
If we find out how it did make it over,
- could be our way home. - But boarding the I.S.S. Shenzhou,
posing as your Terran selves? That plan is an invitation for calamity.
- I beg you to reconsider. - Intel on the Defiant is classified.
It's only available on a Terran ship to those with clearance,
like a captain.
But you are an enemy of the empire and no longer a captain.
No, but I am.
- But the other Burnham was dead. - Presumed dead.
- Body was never found. - I'm responsible for her death.
I'm still at large, so Captain Burnham
will return to the Shenzhou, with me as bounty.
I'll explain that my death was a cover to hunt him to the end of the quadrant.
Delightful.
We beam over,
Burnham gets info on Defiant, we beam back. Simple.
Every captain in the Empire has a guard.
- You're gonna be Burnham's. - Am I?
Have long-range sensors scan for I.S.S. Shenzhou.
When you find her, plot an intercept course.
Let's get us home.
Yes, sir.
What are you worried about?
Make sure the Klingons didn't do something to me.
A procedure I don't know about.
Well, of course... anything is possible.
But you were exposed to a full set
of physical scans when you came onboard.
And random memory sampling, the Manchurian test is highly effective
at detecting what was called "brainwashing,"
i.e., the installation of commands or personality engrams
underneath a functioning consciousness.
What are you imagining they could've done to you?
I'm not imagining anything.
Forgive me, lieutenant.
I meant the word practically, not pejoratively.
As in when one uses the imagination to picture what is not yet known.
Or seen.
Do you suffer from mood swings? Fugue states? Lost time?
If that is the case, I'll ground you.
I just wanna be ship-shape for this mission.
The people on this ship saved my life. I won't let them down.
Let me run a deeper set of scans.
What you probably need most right now is rest.
- And some time off of this ship. - Not much chance of that.
Stay out of the palace!
I'll just be a minute.
Paul,
I won't go anywhere.
I'll stay right by your side.
It'll be okay.
Be careful. The enemy is here.
I'd say, um... I'm 60 percent excited,
40 percent terrified.
Actually, 60 percent terrified, 40 percent excited.
- Maybe 70 percent... - Tilly.
- Sorry. Sorry. - Then stop apologizing.
Terrans don't apologize.
My mother would definitely approve.
Computer, cancel mirror.
- You are a captain now. - No, I'm not.
She is.
I'm nothing like her. She's terrifying, she's...
She's like a twisted version of everything I've aspired to be.
- I'll have nightmares about myself. - You don't have to be her.
- How do I project that strength? - I'm trying to understand them better.
And Terran strength...
is born out of pure necessity.
Because they live in constant fear.
Always looking for the next knife aimed at their back.
Their strength is painted rust. It's a facade.
You have the strength of a crew that believes in you.
Fortify yourself with our faith in you.
That's what a real captain does.
- Impressive. - Let's not keep these assholes waiting.
Too much?
No. Not here.
Here, it's just right.
- Mr. Bryce. - Yes, captain?
- Hail the I.S.S. Shenzhou. Now. - Aye, captain.
This is the I.S.S. Discovery hailing I.S.S. Shenzhou.
Shenzhou, do you read? Over.
Captain Tilly.
To what do I owe the pleasure?
How can I return the favor?
The only pleasure I take is from my enemies' blood
staining my uniform, Captain Connor.
You know him?
He was my ops officer on the Shenzhou.
I watched him die at the Battle of the Binary Stars.
I knew we'd encounter familiar faces.
But is this what it'll be like here?
While scouring the asteroid belts, searching for hidden rebels,
I happened to come across a disabled shuttle.
Inside, I found something I think you'll find most interesting.
Show time.
Captain Burnham.
We thought you were...
You thought what I wanted everyone to think.
Especially him.
It was the only way to capture this traitor.
- Most ingenious. - I don't need your compliments.
I need my ship.
Of course.
You've kept her in perfect condition?
- Yes, captain. - Then bring her to me.
We have a rebel group pinned down in this system.
It's better if you come to us.
Is that how you treat your long-lost captain?
If you greeted me that way,
I'd cut out your tongue and use it to lick my boots.
We will alter course of the Discovery at once, captain,
- and prepare for your arrival. - Be sure that you do.
You called, doc?
- You find anything? - Yeah. Um...
Have you ever received any...
neurological therapies
or marrow diminution procedures before?
No. Not that I know of.
There are masses of scar tissue surrounding all of your organs.
- Right. From my torture. - That's what the computer concluded
when you first came aboard, but...
I've run more advanced tests, and...
if I'm reading these chondroblast scans correctly,
what the Klingons did to you can only be described as...
bone crushing.
They opened up your limbs.
They appear to have shortened your radius,
- your femurs, even your spinal cord. - What are you getting at?
Well, this is just a theory, Tyler, but remember we confirmed
that no personality engrams were hidden under your native identity?
- Okay. - Well...
Some research suggests that a new personality could be placed...
atop it, like an overlay,
with the original personality still intact underneath.
It appears that the Klingons have transformed you.
- Both mentally and physically. - To what?
- We have to figure it out. - I came for a solution.
- You said you'd fix it. - Sit.
- I'm needed on the mission. - Not without further examination.
- They need me! - That's just it.
As far as I'm concerned...
you're not you.
The enemy is here.
Incoming warp signature.
I.S.S. Shenzhou approaching.
My God.
We're being hailed.
Open a channel.
Inform Shenzhou, three to beam over.
Aye, sir.
Look after her, Mr. Saru. You're in charge now.
Well, I guess you're in charge to anybody off the ship, Captain Killy.
Maintain a safe distance, close enough to transport us back
as soon as Burnham gets the Defiant files.
- I won't let you down, sir. - I know you won't.
Tyler, where were you?
I...
- I'm not sure, sir. - What?
There's no excuse for my tardiness. Sorry, captain.
No more apologies.
From now on, we're Terrans.
Decency is weakness, will get us killed.
The lives of everyone on this ship and the Federation are at stake.
You do what you must.
Whatever you must.
To anyone.
Understand?
- Aye, captain. - Clear, captain.
Last time you call me captain.
Hopefully just for a while.
Ready?
Energize.
Captain Burnham.
Welcome back to the Shenzhou.
We made modifications.
Replaced lateral-vector transport systems.
I'll take this bastard. He's due for a world of pain.
Keep your hands off him.
Think I'd let anyone control the fate of the galaxy's most valuable bounty?
I'll take Lorca to the brig personally.
Any number of souls onboard
would serve up his severed head for their own glory.
Of course. I'll escort you, captain.
Only the finest agonizer booth reserved for the treacherous Lorca.
Absolutely not.
Captain?
What did I say to you?
I do not want some overzealous guard
killing this traitor before I have the chance.
I would punish the entire ship for an error that grave.
We would never allow him the release of death.
See to it that he is installed properly here.
I need to access my files. Escort me to the ready room.
I almost didn't make it to captain after you were gone.
But I still came out on top.
The emperor saw something in me.
Glad to hear it.
The crew...
they all bowed after I won.
But they didn't bow deeply enough.
Not like they did with you.
I needed to make them fear me.
Now I finally think I know how.
I don't need a blade to kill you.
The chair is yours, captain.
Dispose of him.
With pleasure, sir.
Long live Captain Burnham!
Long live the Empire!
Long live the Empire.
You scared me.
- How'd you get in? - Your code's the same.
Head of security, I know all of them. It's not just yours.
You get into the files?
Get information on Defiant?
No chance.
Everybody on the crew...
are trailing me.
Trying to sidle up, curry favor.
I didn't wanna rouse suspicion.
I heard about what happened.
With Connor.
I need to tell you something.
Whatever you do,
whatever this place makes you do,
whatever happens to you,
or me,
however we change,
I'm here to protect you.
Nothing will stand in the way of that.
Nothing.
You understand what I'm saying?
Yes.
I'm saying it back.