Time. The final frontier. These are the voyages of Deep Time Nine. Our mission: to boldly experience time travel as no human has experienced it before...
Okay, so the show is called Deep Space Nine, and it doesn't have an opening narration about time being the final frontier...but maybe it should. After all, when the ST:DS9 crew isn't busy fighting the Dominion War or dealing with Bajoran politics, Cardassian duplicity, or Ferengi monkeyshines, they're as likely to explore another zone of time as another zone of space. It's as if the show's producers feel compelled to overcompensate for setting the series on a space station, proving they can still push the storytelling boundaries of travel through history as well as the galaxy.
It's a time-honored Star Trek tradition. In ST:TOS, Kirk and company visit the 1930s and 1960s. Spock stops by his own childhood in the animated Yesteryear. Picard meets Mark Twain in the 1890s in Time's Arrow. Two of the most successful Trek films, The Voyage Home and First Contact, revolve around trips through time.
ST:DS9 doesn't let its stationary starbase setting keep it locked in one time frame. As with its predecessors, ST:DS9 devotes some of its best episodes to time displacement. ST:TOS has City on the Edge of Forever. ST:TNG has Yesterday's Enterprise and All Good Things. ST:DS9 has Far Beyond the Stars, The Visitor, and Trials and Tribble-ations...episodes that arguably stand among the best of all televised and cinematic Star Trek.
These episodes also illustrate the sheer variety and inventiveness of time travel techniques featured in ST:DS9. Forget about the "slingshot effect" and the Guardian of Forever. In The Visitor, Ben Sisko ping-pongs through his son's future when a warp core accident distorts his temporal signature. In Trials and Tribble-ations, the mystical Orb of Time whips up a trip to Kirk's Enterprise circa ST:TOS. Other time jumps come courtesy of a transporter accident (Past Tense) and warp drive sabotage (Little Green Men).
The definition of time travel expands further with visits to past eras via changes in perception. While the physical body remains fixed in time and space, the mind's eye swims the timestream. Why risk your body and defy the laws of physics when you can live history through dreams (Things Past), religious visions (Wrongs Darker Than Death or Night), or hallucinatory delusions (Far Beyond the Stars)?
If perception matters so much, aren't holosuite fantasies a kind of time travel, too? Thanks to the holosuite, the crew of DS9 visits 1960s-era Las Vegas, starring Vic Fontaine (His Way, It's Only a Paper Moon, Badda-Bing Badda-Bang). Bashir gets a taste of the 007-style life of a 1960s secret agent in Our Man Bashir. Then, of course, there are Bashir and O'Brien's offscreen holosuite adventures in historical settings like the Battle of the Alamo, the Battle of Clontarf, and the Battle of Britain. In each case, our heroes experience other eras so solid and authentic that they could just as well be the real thing, reached by old-fashioned slingshot effect or Guardian or Q.
It all goes to show that time and the traveling of it might not be as rigidly linear as some might have thought. Instead of a straight-arrow timeline running from past to future, the heroes of ST:DS9 inhabit a multidirectional, multidimensional timescape, accessible and perceptible by any number of means.
At the heart of this new timescape live the noncorporeal wormhole Prophets. These godlike entities experience time in a nonlinear way, seeing past, present, and future nonsequentially and opening doors for others to do the same. Their significance is obvious from the first episode, Emissary, in which they challenge Ben Sisko's notions of linear time. The central totem of ST:TNG might be Q, who warps conventional perceptions of reality, but the totems of ST:DS9 are the Prophets, who warp conventional perceptions of time.
The Prophets influence a crew who increasingly experience time in nonlinear ways: Miles O'Brien lives a 21-year prison sentence in his mind in the blink of an eye (Hard Time); 8-year-old Molly O'Brien instantly ages to 18 and back again thanks to a time warp (Time's Orphan); and the core crew meet a planetful of their own descendants in the here and now (Children of Time). In the show's final episode, What You Leave Behind, the Prophets' chosen emissary, Ben Sisko, undergoes the greatest temporal transformation, stepping outside time altogether by entering the Prophets' Celestial Temple, where "time doesn't exist."
All this temporal hopscotch leads to one big question: So what? Typically, time travel episodes of ST:DS9 end in the same way as time travel episodes of other Trek or science fiction TV series: the only change is that our hero or heroes learn a lesson. Otherwise, history is set right, the featured time displacement ends, and the timestream resumes its familiar course. ST:DS9 time travel stories are fun, but ultimately kind of pointless...unless their very abundance is itself the point. Perhaps, by featuring so many time-related tales, ST:DS9 suggests that time really is as much a final frontier as space.
If so, where's the advantage in conquering it? That it could enable us to confront the mistakes of yesterday, as Odo does in Things Past? That we could learn the truth about our lives and make peace with lost loved ones, as Kira does in Wrongs Darker Than Death or Night? Or does the shift in our perception of time hold the potential for a wider-reaching and more fundamental change?
By seeing time as a nonlinear, unified whole, humanity could see that the past and future are equally as important as the present. Maybe that's the one lesson we would do best to take from the Prophets and ST:DS9. We can no longer afford to dwell in an isolated moment in time, exempt from responsibility to learn from history and shape the future in positive ways.
*****
Voyager:
Woman in Charge
On one side of the Captain stands a man of emotion, a human who argues in favor of compassion. On the Captain's other side stands a man of logic, a Vulcan who advises in favor of dispassionate reason. It's a familiar template, one that works as well for Kathryn Janeway as for other notable Starfleet captains. After all, Janeway does bring Voyager all the way home from the Delta Quadrant with a little help from Chakotay and Tuvok.
But how much of an impact do they--and Janeway's other advisors--really have on her command style? Sure, their voices are prominent, but do they alter Janeway's approach to problem-solving? Do they temper her decisions...and if so, is it for better or worse?
To get to the answers, let's start with Star Trek: Voyager's first episode, "Caretaker." When Voyager and a fugitive Maquis ship are stranded in the distant Delta Quadrant, Janeway unites the surviving crews of both ships to form a single functional unit. She sets the stage by putting in place the command structure that will carry through the rest of the series, and she demonstrates the decision-making style that will also thread throughout Voyager's missions: Janeway turns to others for facts and opinions, but she always reserves final authority for herself. And she always knows best.
Her decisions can be controversial, but they lead to positive outcomes in the best interests of her crew and the Federation. In "Caretaker," for example, Janeway decides to destroy the Array, stranding Voyager and the Maquis far from home...not a popular choice to some crew members, but one that saves the Ocampa species in keeping with Starfleet's code of ethics. In "Tuvix," Janeway decides to split the merged being, Tuvix--created by a transporter accident--into his component parts, Tuvok and Neelix. It's another controversial call, one opposed by the Doctor...but it leads to the return of Tuvok and Neelix as independent entities and valued members of the crew. In "Equinox, Part II," Janeway decides to use an uncooperative member of the rogue starship Equinox's crew as bait for hostile phase-shifting aliens. It's a move Chakotay opposes so strongly, he disobeys Janeway's orders and intervenes...but things still work out for the best when the threatened crewman leads Voyager to a species with knowledge of the aliens' secrets.
As we see from the events of "Caretaker," "Tuvix," and "Equinox, Part II," Janeway is Voyager's final authority, equipped with decision-making skills and instincts that lead her to make the best decisions time and again. She looks to her advisors for expertise and novel insights, but they don't sway her decisions...usually.
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Sometimes, Janeway does allow her advisors a stronger role in steering her decisions. For example, in "State of Flux," Tuvok convinces Janeway that Seska is the traitor supplying Starfleet technology to the Kazon...and as a result, Janeway is able to thwart Seska. In "The Omega Directive," Chakotay talks Janeway into confiding in the senior staff about an ultra-top-secret mission to destroy the Omega molecule...and it pays off. With the help of her team, Janeway obliterates the deadly molecule, which could have made warp travel impossible in the Delta Quadrant.
In "State of Flux" and "The Omega Directive," Janeway lets her advisors sway her decisions, and things work out well...but in other situations, the results aren't always so good. Case in point, "Alliances." When Chakotay and Tuvok get the bright idea to form an alliance with the Kazon and their enemies, the Trabe, Janeway gives in and decides to give it a try. The result? A debacle. The Trabe make a power play and betray everyone, making the Kazon hate Voyager more than ever.
"Alliances" is one example of the poor judgment exhibited by Janeway's senior staff...but there are plenty of others throughout the series. Tuvok, at one point, rashly mind-melds with a psychotic killer, unleashing his own killer instinct ("Meld"). Chief Engineer B'Elanna Torres seeks pain-inducing thrills in the holodeck with the safety protocols off ("Extreme Risk"). As for Chakotay, his instincts more than once leave something to be desired. In "Maneuvers," he takes rogue solo action to keep Starfleet transporter technology out of the hands of the Kazon, endangering Voyager's command codes in the process. He disobeys orders while saving an ancient Mars probe in "One Small Step," nearly killing himself and his salvage team when things go wrong. And then there's "Scorpion." When Janeway falls into a coma, Chakotay reneges on her deal to work with the Borg to stop an invasion by Species 8472...at least until Janeway wakes up and takes back the reins. If not for her, Voyager and the Borg would not have defeated Species 8472, and the galaxy itself could have been purged of life.
That's right. The galaxy itself. Species 8472's goal was to wipe out all life in the galaxy. If Janeway hadn't stopped them, they could have killed the Milky Way. All thanks to Chakotay.
Notice a pattern? Maybe some folks just aren't cut out for the captain's chair. Janeway, on the other hand, is the one person Voyager can't do without. Her final authority is what holds the ship and crew together and propels them to their destiny. Janeway might seek the counsel of her advisors, but she only really trusts one person: herself. Throughout Voyager's struggles, she holds true to her faith in herself and her judgment, never losing sight of her confidence and resolve.
She faces enemies from within and without--traitors from her own crew, hostile holograms, Kazon, Vidiians, Hirogen, Q, Captain Ransom of the Equinox, you name it. Janeway endures a "Year of Hell" in which her ship and crew are battered to the point of extinction. She pushes Voyager through the heart of Borg territory, battling the Borg at every turn...even being assimilated herself. She goes through all this and more, and she never loses faith in herself.
That's why it's so fitting that the one person who finally helps her get Voyager home is her future self, Admiral Janeway. Who else but a second Janeway could change the ship's destiny, sending it back to Earth decades early?
In the show's last episode, "Endgame," Admiral Janeway travels back through time and space, returning to Voyager in the Delta Quadrant with a plan to get the ship home early via the Borg's transwarp hub. Captain Janeway opposes the plan at first, preferring to destroy the hub and cripple the Borg...but Admiral Janeway brings her around. Together, they do it all--sending Voyager home and destroying the hub. They do it by sharing final authority the only way they ever can--with each other. With themselves.
Perhaps their command style is flawed. After all, is anyone else onboard Voyager really prepared to fill Janeway's shoes if she dies? And doesn't such a strong-Captain style increase the chance of disaster if the Captain's judgment becomes impaired?
One thing's for sure, though: Janeway uses the right style for the right ship at the right time in the right set of circumstances. She lets her staff do what they do best--advise and support--and always saves the last word for herself.
And no one can argue with her results.
*****
Trek It! Part Three:
Trek Fail!
Have you read the Star Trek novel that tells the story of Redjac's eternal battle with immortal Flint from "Requiem for Methuselah?" What about the comic book story that takes Pavel Chekov to the Soviet planet Soyuz II, where he meets the ghost of Yuri Gagarin? Did you see the episode of Voyager that features Tuvok facing pon farr while the crew battles an alien who dies in the first act but keeps coming back for more? How about the weekly web serial bringing together a team of time-travelers including Tasha Yar, K'Ehleyr, and a humanoid avatar of the Guardian of Forever?
These are just a few of the Star Trek projects that I've developed and pitched to book editors and website producers through the years. Some were fails, epic and otherwise, and some were not.
This book will explore these many Trek pitches and proposals. As you read them, see if you can guess whether they went on to become FAILS or UNFAILS. After each one, I'll give you the answer and tell you the true story behind the story. In doing so, I'll open a window on my Trek writing career and give you a look at my creative process. Why do some ideas win contests while others become epic fails? This book will give you some insight, and some glimpses of fascinating Star Trek worlds that never were. You can't read about them anywhere else but here.
Looking back at my Trek writing career provides tantalizing glimpses of projects that could have been, along with the ones that did come to life. Would the unrealized adventures of Kirk, Picard, Sisko, Janeway, and company have shone brightly as worthy additions to the Star Trek saga on film, online, and in print? Or did these fails spare us from tales that wouldn't have measured up to the ones that made the cut? You be the judge.
Impulse Speed: Fan Fiction
My introduction to the world of Star Trek was the reverse of the usual route. My love of Trek started with the printed page instead of the T.V. screen. As a child in the 1970s, I was hooked on the adaptations of the original series episodes written by James Blish and the animated episodes by Alan Dean Foster. After getting into the books, I watched syndicated episodes of the original series, which truly blew my mind and hooked me for good.
After becoming addicted to Trek through the print novelizations, I flipped when Bantam began issuing original novels and anthologies based on the series. Though these novels and anthologies were few and far between, I eagerly snatched up and devoured every one of them. Because of those books, starting with Spock Must Die and Star Trek: The New Voyages, I first got the idea that I might someday be able to write my own original stories about Trek. I remember fantasizing often about walking into the local bookstore and seeing my name on the spine of a Star Trek book on the shelf.
Eventually, I took the fantasy a step further and wrote Trek fan fiction. This early work was far from perfect, but it did feature some interesting ideas. For example, my unfinished novel, Beyond the Final Barrier, features an alliance between the Federation and the crystalline Tholians. Working together, the Federation and Tholians plan an excursion to another galaxy...at least until the Tholians' irredeemably evil sister species, the Yumerians, launch a blitzkrieg attack.
Another project centers around a killer Vulcan suffering from a disease that drives his emotions out of control. A mission to stop him turns deadly when a human bounty hunter who hates Vulcans--or "Points"--comes gunning for Mister Spock.
Then there's "The Sacrifice," in which the Enterprise crew encounters a Klingon ambassador and his assistant, K'Vill Kirzz, an actual good-hearted Klingon. K'Vill came along years before DC Comics' friendly Klingon Konom and Star Trek: The Next Generation's Worf...though K'Vill never did see print. Maybe, in an alternate universe where "The Sacrifice" was published, he made history as the first Klingon "good guy" in Star Trek.
For a true Trek fan like me, the movies were pure Nirvana. Star Trek: The Motion Picture was like a religious experience; I basked in every frame like it was a revelation from God Himself (or was that V'Ger, "the God Machine"). Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan was equally wondrous for different reasons; the film's emotional power, culminating in the death of Spock, left me reeling (and brought me back for multiple viewings).
Star Trek III: The Search for Spock was almost as strong, and Star Trek IV: The Voyage Home was just plain funny and exciting. Each new movie added fuel to the fire of my love for Star Trek and my desire to become a part of it someday as a writer.
Then came Star Trek: The Next Generation, a TV sequel that brought new weekly adventures to the small screen. Preceded by bad buzz, the show started out shaky...then went on to become a worthy successor to the original series. Led by Gene Roddenberry himself, the creative team had an impressive grasp of what made the Trek universe great and how to reproduce it with a brand new crew. Best of all, as I soon discovered, they would consider unsolicited script submissions. If accompanied by a signed release, scripts would actually be reviewed and considered without the need for a high-powered Hollywood agent.
It boggled my mind. If I wrote a Star Trek: The Next Generation script, and the producers liked it, my script could become an actual episode of the show! How could I pass up such an amazing opportunity?
After studying various sample scripts from the show, I sat down and wrote my own, called "A Grain From A Balance." Take a look at the summary and see if you can guess what happened. Was "A Grain From A Balance" a fail or an unfail?
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