sense of direction.
They could feel
magnetic fields...
created by
quasars and black holes...
created by
quasars and black holes...
negotiate singularities...
navigate not just the stars,
but space-time itself.
Like a Navcom A.I.?
No, no.
You've got it backwards.
The billions of calculations
each second...
necessary to lead us through
a black hole or a quasar...
is the Navcom recreation
of the mind of a single Pilgrim.
Then why'd the war start?
You spend so much time
out here alone...
you end up losing your humanity.
When Pilgrims began to lose
touch with their heritage...
they saw themselves
as superior to men.
And in their arrogance...
they chose to abandon
all things human...
and follow what they called
their "destiny."
Some say they believed
they were gods.
You believe they were gods?
No.
But I do believe
they were touched by God.
And like it or not...
you've got some of that
inside you.
I have to get to the bridge.
We'll be jumping soon.
I want you to be there.
This thing's
eating suns for breakfast.
Let's go.
What the hell are we doing here?
You know what we're not doing.
Turning around.
This is the captain.
Prepare for a level-five
jump-point interphase.
Secure all stations.
Attention. Attention.
Course error.
Adjust course immediately.
Steady as she goes.
Captain, the ship is headed...
into the PNR zone
of a class-two pulsar.
One minute until
gravitational pull is 100%.
What about it, Mr. Taggart?
The readings are wrong.
The sensors are not calibrated
to the pulsar.
They've already been warped
by the gravitational fields.
Captain, I must insist
we change course immediately.
No!
Manual override!
Forget you,
artificial intelligence...
or we're all dead.
Captain,
I think you should reconsider.
Steady as she goes, helm.
Aye, aye, sir.
Warning. Warning.
Jump coordinates incorrect.
This is the captain.
Fifteen seconds to jump point.
Watch. Oh, this is great.
Aft shields overloading.
Just you and me. Hold on.
Ohh!
Uhh!
-Ohh!
-Uhh!
Ha ha ha ha! Yeah!
You OK? You all right?
Where are we?
Ladies and gentlemen...
welcome to the Ulysses corridor.
We're through the jump point.
We made it.
Mr. Obutu.
Stealth mode, if you please.
Going to stealth.
Seven percent
electronic emission...
zero communication.
Radar status.
Scanners picking up a strong
electromagnetic signature...
at one-eleven mark forty-three.
An asteroid field.
-Lieutenant Commander.
-Yes, sir.
Prepare a reconnoiter.
I want to know what's out there.
And, Deveraux...
I don't want them to know
that we're here.
Not yet.
Very good, sir.
Scanning quadrant.
Lieutenant, I'm picking up
metal fragments ahead.
Alloy structure indicates
from a Confederation vessel.
Angel, you catch that?
That's from Pegasus.
Ten thousand men and women...
gone...
just like that.
The concussion must've blown
pieces of the station...
all over the sector.
Warning. ENM emissions.
-Pipe down.
-Two-one-six.
-Getting something.
-Analyzing.
Possible I.D. Kilrathi...
Radio silence now.
Get into the asteroids.
Low power.
They know we're here?
Possibly.
From the sophistication
of the equipment onboard...
I'd say the vessel is a command
and communications module.
What's it commanding?
At least six other ships
down near the Brown Dwarf...
are communicating with it.
It seems to be transmitting
jump coordinates.
Angel, they've spotted
your heat corona!
I've got two more bogeys
comin' in hot, six o'clock!
Can't spot them, Blair. Call it.
Jack in the box
on three. One...
two...three!
Missile away!
The big one's shielded!
I got two more bogeys
comin' up from the Brown Dwarf!
Engaging!
Negative. I count
fourteen unfriendlies inbound.
Looks like two destroyers.
We're out of here.
You knew what the orders were--
no contact with the enemy.
Now you've compromised
the mission...
and the very existence
of this ship.
I had no choice, sir.
They'd spotted.