The Computers of Star Trek

by Lois H. Gresh

  Anyone not wearing a communicator badge would immediately be identified by the computer system as an intruder. Without an ID, that being could not travel from deck to deck or section to section. Forcefields could be employed by the computer to immediately imprison the intruder (“Brothers,” TNG). It could even be arranged that none of the ship’s amenities—doors, lights, replicators, and other functions—would work for a person without a badge. Badges would also be coded by rank to prevent unauthorized personnel from entering secure areas. As a visitor, Ralph Offenhouse could never have simply walked onto the bridge during a tense standoff with the Romulans. (“The Neutral Zone,” TNG) Something like this system is used on the starships of the twenty-fourth century though it appears to function erratically.

  Any such system, however, would compromise personal privacy. Secret rendezvous for whatever purpose would be impossible. Equally chilling would be the knowledge that the ship’s computer is monitoring all communication and possibly recording the most intimate and private conversations. Despite undoubtedly strict limits on the use of such information, the fact remains that any person on board can be spied on to an almost unlimited extent, all of the time. Even with the best intentions, life must be a strain. For example, a captain who gave the crew even the slightest reason to doubt his integrity might find it impossible to lead.

  Personal privacy could be protected by a series of safeguards on the computer system. For example, suppose the ship’s computer has a malfunction and is acting strangely (a fairly common Trek plot line). Worf and Chief O‘Brien must shut it down and fix it. But Chief O’Brien knows that, quite often, he has trouble with the artificially intelligent ship’s computer, which seems to have a mind of its own. He and Worf require absolute privacy. The computer must not know what they’re plotting. Worf and O’Brien need only deactivate the computer’s ability to record their conversations. Their voice prints and DNA patterns, to name only two examples, should presumably suffice to identify them to the computer and grant them the required privacy. Still, a computer capable of generating a Professor Moriarity might decide to disobey them, if it was malfunctioning.

  Regardless, privacy issues would still exist, as they already do in holosuites and holodecks. Though the holosuites are commonly used to for exercise and relaxation, they do represent a possible privacy concern. Perhaps Quark programmed a holosuite for a romantic interlude with an imaginary version of Dax. To protect his privacy, Quark would keep the program on a “disk” or even delete it after every use. Still, disks can be stolen, disks can be copied, and any competent computer engineer could program the holosuite computer to save secret files of all deleted programs.

  Another danger of holosuites is the distinct possibility that users could become so strongly attached to holocreated characters to threaten their mental health. Though rarely discussed, holosuites could cause major emotional or psychological problems for distraught or lonely individuals (Reg Barclay in “Hollow Pursuits,” TNG; Harry Kim in “Alter Ego,” VGR).

  Still, if anything, the ship’s computer as programmed in the twenty-fourth century is too protective of individual privacy. Though the Enterprise computer can pinpoint the location of any individual on the ship, it doesn’t unless specifically asked. (The same appears true of all Starfleet ship computers and the system on Deep Space Nine.) When Captain Picard is kidnapped from his quarters by Q, the computer doesn’t alert the crew that he is missing (“Q Who?” TNG). This lack of concern seems to be carrying personal privacy to an extreme.

  On the other hand, twenty-fourth century values are sure to be very different from ours. The people of the real twenty-fourth century may well have a fetish for privacy that we would view as irrational. Yet exactly what they consider private might seem very strange to us.

  Communicator badges and sound recognition software aren’t the only solutions to ship’s security. A number of other identification systems are in development today that would work just as easily. Biometrics is the name given to the field of using a computer to verify an individual’s identity based on unique biological traits. While biometric methods are based on human characteristics, it isn’t a far leap to imagine that three centuries in the future, biometrics will have advanced to identify aliens as well as Terrans.

  Security concerns continue to grow as crime and fraud grow increasingly sophisticated as we approach the twenty-first century. The United States government has established a focal point for biometric research called the Biometric Consortium. Over a hundred different high-tech companies are registered with the Consortium, each vying to develop a fool-proof method of determining a person’s identity. Spain uses biometrics to identify people qualified for unemployment and medical benefits. In the United States, the immigration system and various hospitals use biometrics. Russia plans to use biometrics in its banking systems, and France and Germany plan to use biometrics on credit cards. Several countries are even using DNA as a biometric identification technique. Many countries plan to use these systems for everything from social security and banking systems to election and polling control. The problems of security in the future that we’ve discussed in this chapter are already a major concern today.

  The most common form of biometrics, and the one in use in secure installations throughout the world today is fingerprint recognition. The chance of two people having the same fingerprint is less than one in a billion. Biometric finger scanners merely require a person to place a finger onto a computer screen for a second. Surprisingly, the fingerprint is not analyzed by the whorls of the print (as seen in numerous police and FBI shows over the decades) but by a computerized picture of the finger comprised of tens of thousands of small dots mapping the skin. In a fairly short interval, this pattern can be compared to millions of fingerprints on file and ensure positive identification of the individual.

  Of course, such a system isn’t perfect. As suggested by more than one gruesome crime drama, fingerprint analysis doesn’t work if the finger being analyzed isn’t attached to the proper hand. Nor is there a national, much less world-wide fingerprint data bank available to determine wanted criminals. But because of its speed and low cost, biometric fingerprint identification has become commonplace in many banks and financial institutions.

  A somewhat more sophisticated system used at institutions that require more rigid security (such as nuclear power plants, government laboratories, high-tech military installations) is the Biometric Handshape Recognition scanner. The name of the device makes clear its function. Individuals working at the installation put their hand inside a scanner and multiple cameras working in conjunction with an advanced computer program map a three-dimensional image of the hand. According to the developers of this technology, the exact shapes of hands differ and confirmation of an individual’s identity is fool-proof. Of course, the system only works when comparing the hand-print to those on file, and is relatively time consuming.

  A third method of biometric identification is popular in James Bond films, European banks, and a few top-secret installations. It is iris prints, where an infra-red light scans a person’s iris and matches the scan against a print on file. According to the Biometric Consortium, iris scans are more accurate than DNA tests. Unfortunately, most people object to having their eyes scanned by infra-red beams and this method of identification is costly and unpopular.

  Perhaps the most promising system of biometric identification is facial recognition technology. NVisage from Neurodynamics uses a combination of cameras and computers to form a three-dimensional scan of a person’s face that can be made in full light or complete darkness. This identification method is popular because of all the biometric techniques, it is the least intrusive and can be done without the person being aware of the action. In a future where computers and scanners will be built into the walls of a starship, facial recognition would be a natural method of maintaining security.

  Another promising technique presently under development is bodynets—identification of the unique electr
ic auras that surround people. Still in the basic developmental stages are ID chips planted in a person’s hand that would automatically open doors and trigger proper security codes in research centers. Similar research is being done involving nanochips that would be injected into people’s fingertips.

  Whatever evolves, security on Federation starships will be much more advanced than anything we can imagine at the moment. But no security system will ever be absolutely flawless. Consider that the transporter can instantly do a full-body scan and duplicate a person’s unique DNA pattern. Transporter malfunctions created two Captain Kirks (“The Enemy Within,” TOS), and two Commander Rikers (“Second Chances,” TNG). Unless human nature changes over the next three centuries, most likely every innovation in security will be matched by a new technique to thwart it. Still, whether the ship’s crew numbers in the hundreds (as on the original Enterprise), or over a thousand (the Enterprise-D of the twenty-fourth century), there’s no reason that any of them should be at risk from intruders. Unfortunately, guaranteeing the safety of the starship’s computer core isn’t so easy.

  Having Jem’Hadar warriors beam onto the bridge of the Defiant with drawn phasers might make for good TV, but it is not the most likely method of attacking the ship. An assault on the starship’s computer mainframe is much more promising. And a lot less risky.

  The Romulans and the Borg have been tough, deadly Star Trek foes. But the Bynaars captured the Enterprise without firing a shot. (“10010011?” TNG)

  In the trusting Star Trek world of the twenty-third and twenty-fourth centuries, no one seems to worry about viruses or malignant programs until it’s too late. Messages and files are routinely downloaded to starship and space station computer cores. Precautions against viruses may be in place, but if they are, they’re not very effective as demonstrated by numerous incidents of code alteration that happen to the starship’s main computer and the holodeck computer system. And viruses are only one of the electronic dangers facing Federation computers.

  Many scientists believe that the wars of the future will be fought primarily between computer systems, not on battlefields. They feel that destroying the enemy’s computer network would cause greater destruction than any bomb or biological weapon. The more advanced a society, the more vulnerable it’ll be to computer warfare. Thus, the technologically dependent Federation would be a prime target for computer terrorists.

  In the twenty-fourth century, sabotaging an electrical grid (“Homefront,” DS9) or tampering with a security program (“Civil Defense,” DS9) would be a cost effective and extremely deadly method of fighting. One person hacking into a computer network could affect billions. Hackers would be a constant danger on planets or installations where they would be able to focus their attack on large systems, tapping in unnoticed and downloading important information or tampering with system security (“Babel,” DS9). Still, hacking into a starship or space-station computer wouldn’t be easy, especially since the network is a closed system where any intrusions are quickly noted (“Babel” DS9, “Meridian,” DS9, “The Quest,” TNG).

  Other methods of attacking Star Trek computer systems would be more insidious and harder to detect. While a fleet of Klingon starships might not be able to conquer Deep Space Nine, a few lines of computer code could. The main weapons used in such attacks would include worms, Trojan horses, and the most infamous of all destructive programs, the computer virus. Hidden in an innocent-seeming transmission to a starship, they could cause catastrophic damage.

  A computer worm is a program that uses flaws and holes in a network’s operating system to gain access to machines and duplicate itself again and again. Worms are self sufficient; they don’t need to attach themselves to another computer program to exist. They gobble up computer space and thus absorb system’s resources. In 1988, a computer worm spread through thousands of computer systems hooked to the Internet in just a few days. Imagine what it could do to the Federation’s network, linking hundreds of planets and thousands of starships. Furthermore, worms can be programmed to explode into life months after they infect systems.

  A Trojan-horse program appears to perform a specific and useful function, but it also has a hidden, usually destructive, agenda. It’s different from a computer virus in that it doesn’t reproduce and infect other computers. The “Babel” program that caused the replicators on Deep Space Nine to produce a deadly virus (“Babel,” DS9) is a perfect example of a Trojan-horse program.

  Trojan-horse programs are extremely dangerous because they can be hidden in an operating system for long periods of time, unnoticed by anyone, until a specific chain of events sets them into operation. The deadly Cardassian security program that nearly destroys Deep Space Nine acts much like a Trojan-horse program. It is activated by events that no longer have any meaning on the station, but nearly succeeds in destroying all life on Deep Space Nine before it is deactivated (“Civil Defense,” DS9).

  The ultimate Trojan-horse program in the Star Trek universe has to be the code found in an 87-million-year-old artifact located in the nucleus of a comet in the D‘Arsay system. The incredibly ancient program is downloaded to the Enterprise-D computer and takes over the ship’s systems. The code uses the computer to recreate episodes of D’Arsay mythology, endangering the lives of everyone aboard the starship (“Masks,” TNG).

  Worms and Trojan-horse programs can be dangerous, often-times deadly. Neither, however, is as harmful as a computer virus.

  The simplest definition of a computer virus is a program that changes other programs so as to include a working copy of itself inside them. Most computer viruses have a secondary, often malevolent, purpose. Most are coded to spread to as many machines as possible. In many ways, computer viruses are extremely similar to their biological cousins.

  Just as a biological virus needs a cell to reproduce, a computer virus needs another program for the same reason. Infected cells, like infected programs, can continue to function for a long time without showing any sign of the virus. Once a biological cell’s been infected, it makes new copies of the virus to infect other cells. A program infected by a computer virus creates new copies of the virus to infect other programs. Most important, after a certain incubation period, a virus attacks the living system containing the infected cell. Just as a computer virus attacks the system containing the corrupted program. More than one researcher has pointed out that computer viruses could almost be classified as artificial life.

  Over the past decades, hundreds of new viruses have been detected and neutralized. Still, rogue programmers continue to manufacture malignant code that they release onto the Internet. And, with the increased globalization of computer technology, their aims have become increasingly dangerous.

  According to Time magazine, during the Gulf War, a band of Dutch hackers asked Iraq for one million dollars to disrupt the U.S. military’s deployment in the Middle East. No details of their plans were revealed. Fortunately for the United States, the Iraqis turned them down. Considering that the U.S. military uses the Internet for communications, the hackers could have caused serious problems for Operation Desert Storm.1

  The Department of Defense considers cyberwar one of the greatest threats of the twenty-first century. It’s difficult to believe the threat will have disappeared by the twenty-fourth century. The computer systems of Federation starships and space stations seem extremely vulnerable to the most basic incursions and disruptions. The faith crewmembers and station personnel place in such systems appears to be terribly naive. Too often, major programs such as those involving the replicator, the transporter, and the holodeck crash, causing major disasters.

  A more serious problem was noted in Chapter 2. The three computer cores of the Enterprise are linked by faster-than-light (FTL) transmitters so that they’re always 100 percent redundant. What one computer knows, all three know. That’s fine if, in the midst of a space battle, the main computer core is hit by phaser fire. The engineering computer core would immediately take control of the ship�
��s defenses and weapons. Even a few nanoseconds can matter in a fight conducted between ships moving at impulse speeds. Still, that redundancy can be awfully dangerous if the enemy’s using a virus instead of a photon torpedo.

  If the three computer cores are working at FTL speeds and are 100 percent redundant, a virus imported to one core will immediately infect all three. Filters and anti-virus programs offer some degree of protection, but if they can’t protect the ship’s main computer, as they often can’t, how can they protect the backup systems that are set for instantaneous data duplication? Total redundancy would lead to total disaster. Computer viruses are mostly ignored on Star Trek. They shouldn’t be.

  Which brings us to our final topic involving computer security in the twenty-fourth century, the subject that’s the center of any discussion of involving military or government security today—encryption. It’s important now, and there’s no indication that three hundred years from now it still won’t be important.

  Basically, encryption is writing a message in code so it can’t be read by anyone other than its intended recipient. Secret codes have been popular in fiction ever since Poe’s “The Gold Bug” and Conan Doyle’s “The Musgrave Ritual.” Breaking the Nazi code in World War II was an important factor in defeating the Third Reich. While the government and military are prime users of encryption, it’s also used by businesses and industries throughout the world to protect financial information as well as sensitive data. Obviously, the best encryption system is one that can’t be broken by outsiders. Not surprisingly, modern encryption techniques involve computers.

  In simple terms, encryption disguises a message so it can only be understood by someone authorized to read it. The original message, called plaintext, looks like ordinary text. The encryption process typically uses one or more keys, which are mathematical algorithms that change the plaintext into ciphertext—what looks like garbled numbers, letters, and symbols. After decryption by the authorized reader of the message, the ciphertext returns to its original form, plaintext.