76. A Wolf In the Fold

Subtlety, thy name is Star Trek

76. 'A Wolf in the Fold,' The Original Series, Season 2, Episode 14

I had almost no memory of 'A Wolf In The Fold' when I started watching it. This episode doesn't hit my list of my personal favorites from the Original series and it hasn't risen up though the ranks of pop culture consciousness in the way that, say, one with the Gorn or the Tholian Web have. So, I was able to come into this episode with relatively fresh eyes. And what we see here is the TOS taking a stab at psychological thriller with a scifi twist. Pun intended.

On an alien pleasure planet, Argelia, where Scotty is accused of murdering women. He's literally caught red-handed with a dead body in one hand and a bloody knife in the other. He has no memory of the crime, and professes his innocence. We have here a haunting coming from the mind of the man who wrote Psycho, Robert Bloch. If that is a pedigree for exploring psychological horror, I don't know what is.

As Scotty maintains his innocence despite ridiculous evidence to the contrary, the true murderer reveals itself to be an energy being that hops from host-to-host killing women and feeding off their fear to sustain itself. Scotty was just its latest vessel on the planet at it hacked it's way through the populous. It revealed itself to be an entity that has traveled from system to system, and took credit for countless murders, and had even visited earth in the past, and that's pretty much where this passable mystery to just third-act nonsense.

You see, I've been doing my best to review the Original Series for what it is, but that's not always easy. This episode had great potential. It had a great setup, flamboyant guest stars, an interesting (and edgy for the time) alien culture that mixed hedonism with mysticism. My issue here isn't with any of the usual low-hanging-fruit complaints about the series — the stylized acting, or the limitations of the budget, or the undercurrent of blatant sexism that permeates the 60s — but the inclusion of Jack the Ripper.

Seriously, every Argelian looked as if they stepped right out of a victorian-era magician's poster.

When the alien entity reveals itself as Jack the Ripper, it lost me. It's weirdly out of place, and seems only to exist to give the audience some kind of context for the entity. But it misses the mark. It's forced. And when the entity leaves its host and takes control of the Enterprise, it goes from weird to worse. A being that lives on terror and fear takes over one of the greatest military weapons ever built by human hands. But what should be terrifying comes across as silly. McCoy gets the crew so doped up to keep them from feeling fear and feeding the entity they sway and giggle at their stations. At that point, I'm just waiting it for 'A Wolf in the Fold' to end.

This is supposed to be about Scotty, but it's not. For an episode focused on the chief engineer, all we really learn about the character is that he can creepily leer at women, and doesn't really give a fig about local customs. We learn that Kirk is fiercely loyal to his crew. We learn that Spock has some weird opinions on the emotions of women. We learn that McCoy has a metric f-ton of drugs aboard the Enterprise, and is not afraid to use them.

"Hey, man, an alien murder thing has, like, control of the ship? Like, groovy, man." — Sulu

Now, I feel like I've just been bashing the Original Series in my last few reviews on this list* and I want to acknowledge that that's not really my intent. They just haven't connected with me.  I have great respect of the Original Series, its creators, its vision, its legacy, and the fictional world it created. The character dynamics of Kirk, Spock and McCoy are among the strongest, and smartest in the history of not just television, but all of storytelling.

But for this adventure, what's the message here? Trust each other? Kirk's always right? Scotty objectifies women? I'm not sure. For me, 'A Wolf in the Fold' lacks a strong central theme that elevates other classic episodes above the limitations of the show.

There are adventures of The Original Crew I love with all my heart. This just wasn't one of them.

--

Next up, Seven of Nine, Tertiary Adjunct of Unimatrix Zero One, faces her past in 'The Raven.'

*A reminder, that this isn't my list, but io9's Top 100 Episodes of Star Trek of All Time.

#87, Deja Q, The Next Generation, Season 3, Episode 13

"As an android, I'm incapable of disliking you, Q, and yet, somehow, I do." — Data

Q's introduction to the series was, frankly, off putting. His first meeting with the Enterprise feels mashed together with another adventure. Two puzzle pieces that never quite connected together smoothly. Which fits, as from my understanding of the history of Encounter at Farpoint, that's very much what happened as Roddenberry and crew were launching the series. Granted, it was a pilot, and chock full of expositiony bullshit that plague many pilots. However, it seems to me that they only had a vague notion of what Q was and what they wanted him to be, but he wasn't there yet. He came to the Enterprise appearing as a 16th Century Explorer complete with thous and thees, a WWII soldier worried about Gerry, then some post-apocalyptic judge in a robe in a weird hat. It didn't help that Encounter was still figuring out literally everything about the series, and Q was as much a mouthpiece for exposition as anything. He was there to help set the status quo, explain where humanity was, and how far they had yet to go. His powers were ill defined, his mannerisms erratic, and the logic behind his encountering with humans is, shall we say, convenient with the needs of the show. Why the Enterprise and not Earth proper? Why use a weird forcefield? Why go through different eras of humanity (and appropriate accents) to communicate with Team Picard when you've reportedly been watching humans for a very long time? Eh, why the fuck not? Let's get on with the show, people, we have a fictional world to establish!

He'd appeared a few more times before this episode, Deja Q. Once to temp Riker with the god-like powers of the Q-continuum. And once to introduce the Borg and teach Picard a lesson in humility (the latter episode is not great, but the things it leads to are). DeLancie seems to relish playing Q, and he plays the smug, arrogant, and self-serving god-like being with a wink and a smile.

In many instances, Q has to stoop to humanity's intellectual level, and he seems exhausted doing it. He's a malicious scientist, poking at a mouse, trying to get the mouse to run through a maze. The mouse never understands why, it just has to run the course until it gets its cheese. Or not. Sometimes the mouse gets the cheese, sometimes, (as in the first Enterprise's first encounter with the Borg) he has to take the mouse out of the maze and reset the experiment. He's a great foil for the series, the Mr. Mxyzptlk to Picard's Superman. Logic and technobabble don't matter when he shows up. He's freaking magic. And the Enterprise crew has to cope with a power they can't understand. The Enterprise is never any real threat to him. Not ever, in the series. Except once. Here, in Deja Q.

Both figuratively and literally, Q is, for all intents and purposes, the trickster god archetype. And in this, his fourth appearance, they finally figured out that he should just be fun. Because this is a fun episode. Mostly because humans, and being human, are so effing stupid. Q is stripped of his godlike powers, turned human, and abandoned on the Enterprise to spend the rest of his limited existence as a mortal.

Space onesies. Mortality apparently means space onesies.

Do they trust their former tormenter? No, dear reader, they do not. Picard is facing a crisis of his own, a moon to an alien world is threatening to crash into its parent planet. Not only does he think that Q is responsible for the natural disaster, he also believes that this is some intricate ruse on Q's part to test them. Side note, only Picard can use the word 'ruse' and get away with it. I can't even type it without feeling like a fraud.

In contrast to the flamboyant DeLancie as the newly mortal Q, he's paired with Spiner's ever-quizzitive and serene Data. And while in normal circumstances it would be so completely on the nose it would be painful -- having a being who is revolted by having humanity thrust upon him, and the being for whom humanity is a goal forever out of reach -- I forgive it here because the interplay between Q and Data is just that damned entertaining. While Q learns the hardships of his newfound biological needs -- like sleeping, gross, and hunger, double-gross! -- Data is there to remind him of the gift of, if not humanity, than at least perspective. Q has spent countless millennia toying with lesser species. Now that he's vulnerable, he at least has some idea of what it means to face his mortality.

To prove his worth to Picard, Q is assigned to help Geordie and Data figure out how to stop the alien moon from crashing, which may literally be the most boring thing any Star Trek crew has ever faced ever. Even the people on the planet can't seem to muster any sense of urgency faced with the eradication of their populous. Seriously, why are these people so damned calm? The aliens appear slightly tense, but otherwise, they're just doing their jobs. Pushing the space buttons and what not. I, on the other hand, would be freaking the freak out if the moon were going to crash into the planet. And not just a little bit. I'm talking full-on, last-days-on-Earth-shenanigans-that-would-only-come-to-pass-if-society-rules-were-out-the-windows-dogs-and-cats-living-together-mass-hysteria-level fun. I would not take the end of the world well is all I'm saying.

"No, it's fine. Our planet is going to be destroyed, and we're relatively okay with that." — Doomed Aliens

In the midst of this, the most boring challenge ever in the history of space, Q is attacked by one of the species that he formally tormented. Picard makes the choice to protect Q, against all logic, because it's the right thing to do. Does Picard like having to risk his ship to protect this former god-like being? No, dear reader, he does not. But Q is now a member of his crew, and it's the right thing. There's a bemoaning hesitation on the Captain's part, but it soon passes. He's risking his ship and his crew over one person. Would he do the same for a nameless gold shirt serving on the lower decks of Engineering? I would have to say, probably. Which is why Picard is the best man suited for the chair of the Enterprise D.

Q eventually realizes that he must sacrifice himself to save the Enterprise. With that, another member of the continuum appears (LA Law's Corbin Bernsen, randomly, of all people), confirms that Q has learned his lesson, and restores Q to his former power. Q snaps his fingers and resets the moon, and all's right with the alien world below.

"Remember me? No? Maybe as the dad from Psyche? Still no? Understandable." -- Other Q

Now, if this episode totally sucked, unequivocally and inexorably, if the entire episode had lacked the wonderful exploration of humanity between Q and Data, the ending would have still have earned it a spot on the list of Top 100 Episodes of Trek of all time. Because when Q is absolved of his crimes and has his powers are restored, he celebrates is a manner fitting of a next generation trickster god. With a battle cry of "Mon Capitan!" Q presents a full-on mariachi band on the bridge. Picard and Riker are given celebratory cigars, and Data is given a glimpse at humanity in the form of uncontrollable laughter.

The best part of this is that it happened.  

Throughout the episode we're treated to the sarcastic outsider's view of the Enterprise and the world of the Federation, with Q holding up the funhouse mirror to the absurdity of what it means to be human.

Therefore, Data's laughter at the end is wholly, wholly deserved.

--

Up next, the crew of Voyager examines the morality of war with Memorial.

#88, 'Favor the Bold' & 'Sacrifice of Angels,' Deep Space Nine, Season Six, Episodes 5 & 6

I seem to remember the retaking of Deep Space Nine in Favor the Bold and Sacrifice of Angels as being a big moment in the mythology of the show. When Sisko takes back Deep Space Nine from the enemy. We're deep into a war with the Dominion, and the Federation is losing. Losing territory and ships to a vastly superior opposing force, they're outgunned, outnumbered, and falling into a pattern of attack and retreat.

Lives have been lost. Morale is low. And Sisko has decided it's time for some let's-blow-the-shit-out-of-something-big action. A go-for-broke plan that will strike the heart of the Dominion and provide the Federation with a much needed victory. They have to force a victory, or lose the war. He puts together a task force to take back his former command, Deep Space Nine.

Sone where in this armada, I like to think Picard is making it so.

As I re-watched these, I came to realize that this two-episode arc represent the best and the worst of what Deep Space Nine was. As if they are a microcosm of the series as a whole. The episodes are wildly uneven, oscillating between good and bad almost from scene to scene. Deep Space Nine is a show I like (a lot), but I have to admit that there are some elements that just never clicked for me.

On the one hand, we have Avery Brooks, who, once again, rocks it like a boss. Sisko's a man with his back against the wall, making the hard decisions. He's passionate. Earnest. Bold. And takes zero shit from zero people, aliens, or cosmic beings from another reality.

The Dominion are (with exceptions noted below) the perfect villains for the series. I'd described them in a previous post as a totalitarian anti-Federation. They're everything the Federation isn't. They seek conquest, not exploration. Jeffery Combs' Weyoun is fantastic. The show takes chances, swinging for the fences. When they decided to make the major through line of the show the Dominion War, they went for it. Throughout the series, Deep Space Nine has presented space combat on a scale not seen since the Battle of Endor, and it did it on television. Repeatedly. Certainly not on a scale seen in any other iteration of Trek.

We have great character moments. Miles and Julian bonding. Quark setting aside his self-interest for the greater good. Even Rom shines in a rare instance of not being completely annoying. Also, Worf son of Mogh. 'Nuff said.

And then, on the other end of the spectrum (for the record, the bad one), we have the prophets calling Ben "The Sisko." We have the character known only as Female Changeling, who apparently cannot have a line without saying the words 'solids' or 'great link.' We have Odo's, ugh, love affair with Major Kira, which has always felt forced and awkward. We have the logic problems of both the Bajoran gods and the Dominion changeling rules. And, then, we have Gul Dukat.

Gul Du-fucking-kat.

I swear I got eye strain from rolling them too much every time Gul Dukat was on the screen. I loathe him, but not in the way I'm meant to. He's smarmy, arrogant, self-agrandizing, and speaks with with an almost operatic rhythm — where every sentence builds in volume and intensity and is then followed by a soft coda. Once I identified this, it drove me absolutely mad. Dukat is, perhaps, the Star Trek villain with the most screen time of any other. In fairness, I didn't do any kind of quantitative analysis on that, I'm just going by memory. But holy crap is there a lot of Dukat on this show.

"Was it something I said?" -- Gul Dukat. "Pretty much everything you've ever said, ever, yes." — Me

Over the course of the series, he's been portrayed as a cold-blooded mass murderer, a misunderstood tyrant, a crazy person, a patriot, revolutionary, a cult leader, a messiah, and a vessel to evil gods. And every time he's on the screen, I'm just checking my watch until he's done being terrible. He grates me. He's mustache-twirly terrible. He stands out as cartoonishly broad and over-the-top in a show with alien forehead makeup and spaceships going kler-splode. That says something. He strives to have the gravitas to be Sisko's equal, and the failure at that is palpable. But, they keep using him. And his use keeps giving me eye strain. Ow.

However, the worst part of this particular Niner adventure is that it ends with the most blatant (and literal) deus ex machina you could possibly imagine. Sisko's bold plan has failed. The Federation strike force is unable to break the Dominion lines, except for one line ship, the Defiant. The minefield that has kept the Dominion re-enforcements at bay is taken down. Sisko and the crew of the Defiant sail into the worm hole to face off against two-thousand-plus Jem'Hadar warships alone. Their sailing into their deaths in a hollow sacrifice. They don't even say anythig like, 'we're going to technobabble the warp core and collapse the wormhole so that the Jam'Hadar can't get through and save the alpha quadrant with our noble sacrifice!' Instead, they lock phasers, and calmly accept their own deaths at the hands of alien weapony. Then, the Bajoran Prophets pull Sisko out of his reality and into their temporal dream state.

The interaction with the Bajoran Prophets is just painful. They seem to interrupt the action for the sake of interrupting. Call Sisko "the Sisko" for no apparent reason other than to just annoy me. They ramble about a 'game,' which I infer to mean the writers aren't sure what to do with these alien beings in the long term. They are dismissive of Sisko's needs until he makes an old-fashioned empassioned speech. Sisko begs them for a miracle, and they provide it. The Dominion fleet vanishes from Existence, and the Defiant returns to Deep Space Nine. Sisko and crew return the triumpant heroes to the Station, and the war goes on.

For both good and ill.

---

Next up, it's a trip to the continuum with Déjà Q.

#89, Court Martial, The Original Series, Season 1, Episode 20

As we break into the 80s of the Top 100 Trek Episodes of all time, we have our second entry from the original crew. (Well, the second original crew, not counting Pike, Number One, and the rest of the Enterprise crew from The Cage.)

I'd mentioned before how Trek likes to explore different storytelling techniques. And in 'Court Martial,' we have a courtroom drama set in the world of the Federation. Here Kirk is put on trial for negligence of duty when  crewman dies during a crisis.

"How can anyone who looks this good be guilty of anything? I mean, seriously!" — James Kirk

If this episode is any indication, the Judge Advocate General's office is really, really messed up. I will call a lot of shenanigans on space law in a bit, but first I want to share something.

I have a theory on Captain James Tiberius Kirk. I don't really expect anyone to subscribe to its lunacy, but it helps me make sense of the character. I don't think he believes he's ready for command. I believe his arrogance and overconfidence is a mask for his insecurities. He understands the weight of the responsibilities of his position. He understands that he holds the lives of hundred under his direct command, and that it's his moral compass that must guide his decisions that may affect the lives of the countless billions within the Federation. At this time, Starfleet is still exploring the quadrant. They've met countless enemies and godlike beings so advanced as to appear magical. And Kirk has faced them all with a wink and a nod and not a shred of doubt in what he's doing is right.

That doesn't mean I don't think he's ready for the job. He is. He's clearly smart, capable, decisive, talented, eloquent, and more than willing to throw a haymaker when necessary. But I think his unwavering bravado is a facade to mask his self-doubt. It's his first command. He's in uncharted territories both physically and emotionally for him. Why do I believe that? Well, I'm glad you asked.

Kirk is presented as a paragon, the best of what humanity has to offer. But I cannot accept that Kirk truly believes himself to be that man. The counter-argument to that, is that Kirk is a human being. I choose to believe that it's all an act. That he's choosing to put on this larger-than-life persona as a means to deal with his responsibility. He has to charge forth into the vast unknown and face it with out a moment's hesitation. He always has to be right. Not because of his ego, but because it's what's demanded of him in his position as captain of the Enterprise.

Otherwise, he's a completely arrogant, irredeemable asshole, and not a flawed man doing the best he can in fantastic circumstances, under extraordinary pressure, and the responsibility of the most advanced military weapon mankind has yet to build. I choose to believe that Kirk is far more complex that the aforementioned paragon of humanity. Because, if this isn't the case, he's boring. And I cannot stand being bored.

In 'Court Martial,' when Kirk is accused of his crime, negligence of duty, Kirk just can't process it. He stands firm on his story, the ship was on red alert during an ion storm, and he had to make the tough call of jettisoning a crewman in order to save the ship. The man, Finney, Kirk supposedly killed was someone with whom he'd had a history. Kirk, as a junior officer, derailed this man's career, and wound up commanding the Enterprise instead. With their former friendship dissolved, Kirk is accused of deliberately murdering the man for... Eh, the logic of it doesn't really track, so I'm going to stop while I'm ahead here instead of trying to explain it. The computer records counter his story, and computer records are never, ever wrong.

Kirk supposedly killed a man by giving him a middle finger.

Rather than take a desk job and have his mistake quietly swept under the rug, Kirk reacts the way a cornered animal would react. He fights back. Viciously. To a fault. It's inconceivable to him that he could be in error. That his memory of the act was incorrect. That his actions in a crisis were at fault. That he, James Mother-Effing Tiberius Kirk, could ever, ever, ever make a mistake or be wrong. He immediately challenges his superior officer, and demands a trial before he's seen the evidence, or even takes a beat to consider the consequences of his actions. The Commodore is taken aback, and gives Kirk exactly what he asks for, a general Court Martial to see if his actions were criminal.

When Spock and McCoy are called to the stand to testify, both hold Kirk up to that paragon standard to which they hold him. Spock believes the computer to be in error solely because it is illogical for Kirk to have make a mistake. McCoy testifies that Kirk is so far removed from human psychology that the animosity Finney had for Kirk would have no effect on his decision making. The Commodore who puts Kirk on trial opens the story with how one-in-a-million special starship captains are, and how Kirk is the best of the best of them. Even Finney's daughter, who screamed bloody murder at the site of Kirk earlier in the episode comes to understand that Kirk is just... that... damned... awesome at being better than everyone else.

Here's where I shift gears a bit and call space shenanigans on the Starfleet legal system. First, the prosecution in the case, Lt. Shaw, is an ex-lover of Kirks. While it adds dramatic tension, it's clearly a conflict of interest and she should have immediately recused herself from the case. Secondly, his attorney is a straight-up crackpot. An eccentric that believes that computers are terrible and that books are the way to go. Because you can't read the original law from a computer. Which, from a 21st century viewing perspective is just batshit insane. Kirk is amused by the man's eccentricity, but should have instead immediately asked for someone not crazy. What's more is that this eccentricity never pays off. They don't come to a conclusion that proves old-fashioned book learnin' is better than computerized, digitized information. Instead, they wind up using a computer to solve their problem. Thereby derailing the attorney's eccentricity into a futile anti-technology rant.

"But I like books, they're my only friends." — Crackpot Lawyer Person

It turns out that Finney faked his death to frame Kirk, falsifying the computer records, and hiding on the ship. It's a plan that... Eh, the logic of it doesn't really track, so I'm once again going to stop while I'm ahead. The point is Kirk was right, and Finney was an insane person.

Kirk's bravado and reckless ego are validated by all of this. The crew's assessment of him as the paragon are reset and all's right with the Enterprise once again. His actions are justified, and he's been shown to be able to do no wrong.

But he's once again proven he's the right man for the most dangerous job in the quadrant.


--

Next up, things in space go boom in the two-part DS9 epic, with Favor the Bold & Sacrifice of Angels.

#90, The Booby Trap, The Next Generation, Season 3, Episode 7

Before being promoted to Chief Engineer, Geordi Laforge had an interesting career aboard the Enterprise. And by interesting, I mean I'm not sure they really knew what to do with him in the first season. He was the helmsman, sometimes. A command officer, other times. His defining characteristic was the visor that gave him sight. As the season progressed we got to learn more about him. Like, he's Data's friend... and other things? I guess? He had a crush on Tasha Yar? At the same time, the ship's engineering section was also going through an identity crisis. Every episode, it seemed like there was someone new as Chief Engineering, then never to be seen again. Like a drummer in Spinal Tap.

In season two, they promoted him from Conn Officer to Chief of Engineering. But there was no real indication that Geordi was qualified to hold the position of Chief Engineer. He was smart, and capable — even taking command of the Enterprise during a crisis that left the rest of the command crew trapped on a planet in 'The Arsenal of Freedom' — but qualified for Chief Engineer? Experienced enough to take responsibility for the most advanced ship in Starfleet? If you say so, Enterprise HR Director. Because, from the established episodes before the promotion, Data or Wesley seem far more qualified for the position.

So, Geordi suddenly became an expert on all things warp drive, put on the gold uniform and said some absolutely ridiculous technobabble throughout the rest of his tenure aboard the Enterprise. Seriously, kudos to Lavar Burton for getting some of these words out, let alone make them not sound ludicrous. Now in season three, we see the crew settling into their roles and their personalities continue to be explored. Now, there's one other thing we know about Geordi...

First and last date with Lt. Friendzone. 

The episode opens establishing that Geordi is not a ladies man. He's on a date on the holodeck with a woman who, frankly, never should have accepted the date in the first place. When a young man offers to take you on a moonlit caribbean beach, complete with drinks in coconut shells, and a violinist, and you're not into him, say no. Don't wait, presumably hours into the date, to let him down awkwardly. It's not good for anyone. It's painful (and a bit ham-fisted), but immediately puts Geordi in a position of sympathy.

Meanwhile, Data and Wesley are playing a game of chessposition, a game that combines the excitement of chess with the necessary evil of exposition. The Enterprise has found an ancient battle site, between two ancient alien races. Picard is super-excited to discover one of these ancient vessels in tact. Now, it's time to beam over and poke alien stuff. Because nothing ever goes wrong when you beam over to a thousand-year-old ship full of dead aliens.

In chessposition, no one wins. 

As they examine the derelict, the away team accidentally trigger a trap that bombards the Enterprise with radiation and drains any power output. They can't get away, and should they lose power to their shields, everyone on the enterprise would die of radiation poisoning. Having re-watched the episode (twice for this review), I'm not entirely sure I understand how the trap works, was supposed to work, how it affects the systems of the Enterprise, or how the trap was triggered in the first place. The gist is, the more power they use, the more powerful the effect. And if they don't get out, they're all going to die.

Geordi works with a holodeck character to figure out the problem. And things start to get a little weird.

What this episode really had me wondering was, just how smart and powerful is the Enterprise computer? It makes choices about how to interpret Geordi's commands. Has seemingly infinite storage and information. When asked, it extrapolates a personality for a holodeck character based on a real person from symposium records and personal journals and complains of a potential 9.37% margin of error in personality responses in seconds. In seconds. In essence, it makes a holographic life form, as if it's no big deal to make a digital copy of a personality and have it react like a living, breathing human being. In seconds.

This computer interpretation of engineer Dr. Leah Brahms is so real, that Geordi starts to have a relationship with this digital avatar.  It can flirt, offer massages, brag about its cooking skills, and self-aware enough to know that it's a hologram. It's essentially the same concept the computer used to create a holographic Dr. Moriarty, except the basis of this artificial intelligence isn't a fictional villain, but one of the engineers who designed the engines for Galaxy class starships. Do they make out? Not quite, (at least not shown), but they do part on a genuine kiss before Geordi turns her off.

"Silly, you're supposed to do the opposite of that." — Dr. Leah Brahms 

Geordi and his new holodeck lady friend (who looks eerily like the woman who rejected him earlier in the episode, but isn't) spend the entire episode arguing and come up with a plan to turn control of the ship over to the  computer, which no one is really having any part of. Not Riker, not Picard, and not even Geordi. When Geordi comes up with another plan, one that puts the risk in the hands of human beings rather than the computer. With a single burst from the engines before the boobytrap can use that power against them, they should be able to escape. Geordi offers to take the helm and solidify his rightful position as the episode's hero.

Except...

Except Picard (or possibly Stewart) decides he needs to be hero and takes the helm instead. He has to be the one who leads the Enterpise crew to safety. When things go south in Geordi's plan, Picard pulls a maneuver that neither Geordi, Data, nor anyone else with a basic understanding of physics sees coming. Using the gravitational pull of a nearby asteroid, Picard slowly slingshots them out of range of the booby trap. There's a fantastic moment when Data congratulates Picard on his cleverness, and he does so with both surprise and not a small amount of patronization.

The episode ends with a bit of a mixed message. Goerdi says goodbye to the Dr. Brahms hologram with a speech about how it's great to have technology, but we can't entirely rely on it. It can't replace the human factor. Then, in complete contrast to that, he gives her the aforementioned goodbye kiss. Through out the first act, Geordi longs for a connection with another person. He comes across as a little desperate. Then, that need is then fulfilled with a computer's interpretation of a person.

There's a great callback episode to this one, where Geordi meets the Real Dr. Brahms, and she discovers the holodeck program, and the awkwardness ensues. It's portrayed as an invasion. A violation of her as a person. And Geordi has to reconcile his emotional connection to an interpretation of a person, with the actual person.

—

Next up, we're putting James T. Kirk up for a court martial in the appropriately named Court Martial.

I'm sure it'll turn out fine.

#91, The Killing Game, Voyager, Season 4, Episodes 18 & 19

Don't worry, folks, it all makes sense in the end. Kinda? 

I have to be honest. I'm not 100% sure where to start with this episode. The two-part Killing Game begins in the middle,  so let's start there. A very Janeway-looking Klingon grunting and fighting off a Hirogen — one of Voyager's attempts at making their own Klingons — dressed as a Klingon warrior.

Klinganeway is wounded and it's quickly revealed that it's part of a simulation. The Hirgoen have taken Voyager, and turned the entire ship into a holodeck hunting ground so that they can practice their skills in a number of different scenarios using the Voyager crew as their prey. Memories wiped and placed into these scenarios with no knowledge of self, the crew fight for their lives, again and again. Only to be stabbed, broken, shot and stitched back together so they can do it again, and again, and again.

If there's one and only one thing we know about the Hirogen, it's that they're driven by the thrill of the hunt. The more dangerous the prey, the greater the victory. And like the Klingons they so desperately want to be, they live their lives by a code of honor. The hunt for them is more than a means of proving themselves as warriors, it's the cornerstone of their civilization. It's what drives their exploration, their technology, and their culture.

And what we have is a Hirogen Commander who's thinking about the future. He's identified that his people are in decline. They've stretched their empire as far as they can. Hunted species to extinction in their quest for the hunt. They have entire generations who strive for nothing but tracking prey. In short, they've stagnated. And a civilization in stagnation dies. The Commander has seen this, and is looking for a new path for his people.

Once upon a time in...
     ... Nazi-Occupied France.

He's using the Voyager holotechnology and the ship's computer database to satiate his people's need to hunt and allow for the possibility of other pursuits. He fires up a program set in Nazi-oppucpied France, with the Voyager crew placed in the role of French Resistance fighters and the Hirogen as SS Officers hunting them down.

So, the choice of a World War II scenario to test his men is an interesting one. And by interesting, I mean it seems entirely arbitrary. Like an excuse to mashup aliens and Nazi uniforms. He constantly has to remind his men to 'play the game' instead of resorting to their predatory nature. But why? If there's a direct metaphor between the Hirogen and the Third Reich, I can't quite put my finger on it. The Commander, by his people's standards, is progressive. An asshat who's torturing the crew, sure, but progressive.

It's the not the first or the last time Trek has directly or indirectly addressed Nazis. The Original Series used Nazi uniforms on an alien world. Enterprise will have time travelers help Nazis take over America. And the Cardassian Occupation of Bajor, introduced in the Next Generation and explored more fully in Deep Space Nine, is a direct metaphor for the horrors of WWII.

It's never explained why he chose this program. What he wanted to prove to his men with it. And even the Nazis within the program question the Commanders devotion to the mission of the 'Master Race.' Then, what's the point here? That myopic vision cannot be sustained? That blind devotion to a set of flawed ideals is futile? I'm not 100% sure. And it's bugging me.

"What's the point? How about the point my shoulder pads?" — Janeway 

While Janeway (who, once again, rocks ginormous shoulder pads) and crew regain their personalities thanks to the Doctor, they retake the ship and stop the Hirogen with holodeck characters from other simulations. WWII soldiers fighting alongside Klingon warriors in the corridors of the ship to take Voyager back from the invaders.

While its message may be a bit muddy, erring more on adventure than a moral lesson, this is the type of episode that only Voyager could attempt with a straight face.

Kinda.

--

Next up, Geordi falls for a holodeck physicist in 'The Booby Trap.'

The title is not what it sound like. 

#92, The Magnificent Ferengi, Deep Space Nine, Season 6, Episode 10

"Look, brother! Hu-mons!" — Rom

Quark lives his life by a different set of values than the rest of the DS9 regulars. His vision is clear, earn latinum by any means necessary (provided that it's not in conflict with self preservation, of course). He's constantly evaluating risk and reward for his schemes, and gets as much thrill out of the execution plans as the profit itself. He's smart. He's proud. He's a brilliant negotiator and knows the Rules of Acquisition by heart.

In the opening of this episode, he's just pulled off one of the aforementioned brilliant negotiations — piecing together bits of obscure information to learn that a merchant is hoarding precious goods to drive demand up, and uses that information to blackmail the merchant into giving him a large quantity of precious cargo. Space syrup or something. Quark's trying to celebrate by laying out his scheme in detail for anyone who will listen. But nobody's is listening. Bashir and Dax just got back from a secret behind-enemy-lines mission against the Dominion and Quark's tale of cunning and profit is overshadowed by more, shall we say, conventional acts of heroism.

In the eyes of the his people, what's he's just done is masterful. Epic. Heroic. Quark knows he's a bad ass, even if the rest of Deep Space Nine don't see it. His ego is bruised, unsure why his heroic act isn't viewed in the same light as the Starfleet covert mission. Remember when I said Quark was proud? Yeah, this starts to eat at him.

"Why won't any one take me seriously? Is is the suit made from pimp curtains? It's probably that." – Quark

Why can't the Ferengi get any respect from the Federation types? Why are they dismissed? Isn't the Ferengi Alliance an empire on par with the Klingons, the Romulans, or the Federation? So, when Quark learns that his mother has been kidnapped by the Dominion, he decides that instead of hiring alien mercenaries to pull off the rescue it should be a Ferengi-only tactical mission. Quark believes that Ferengi are every bit as formidable as the aforementioned Klingons, Romulans, and Federation. And why should be not believe that? The Ferengi are smart, cunning, ruthless, and driven with vast resources and powerful warships.

Hilarity ensues.

No, seriously, this is a fun episode. Quark puts together a rag-tag team of Ferengi warriors and his team is a mix of old and new Ferengi faces. Rom is the first to join. Nog is eager to use his Starfleet training to coordinate the military effort. There's a guy who likes explosions. Quark's cousin, I think. And their former foil, Brunt played by the great Jeffery Combs.

Together, they make an ineffectual commando team in training, so Quark relies on what the Ferengi do best. Negotiation. They decide to exchange a captured Dominion Vorta, for Quark's mother and things get complicated when they accidentally shoot their prisoner before they can make the exchange.

What's interesting here is the episode mirrors the fate for the Ferengi in the mythology of Trek.  They were supposed to be the nemesis of the Next Generation. The new Klingons. Perhaps it was their production design or their early portrayals, but as the Next Generation progressed, the Ferengi went from credible threat to cartoonish foils. And that's kind of what happens in this episode. Quark sets out to put together a team of Ferengi commandos, but it degenerates into playing for laughs as the traits of greed, self-interest and backstabbing set in.

There's a lot of things that may have been funnier on the page than in execution, but it's an amusing episode. Quark's role is as a foil and to provide an outsider's perspective on the Federation. This episode provides some much-needed comic relief in an otherwise dark time for Deep Space Nine crew. Quark, Nog and Rom are fine as flavor, but when the entire episode is Ferengi-focused like this one, it can be a bit much. It's entertaining, but not my favorite Quark-centered adventure. That's coming up later in the countdown in "Little Green Men."

Also, Iggy Pop is in this episode as a street-walking Vorta with a heart full of napalm.

The runaway son of a nuclear warp bomb.

And his performance is fantastic. So, I can't really complain about that.

--

Next up, the Voyager crew are hunted for sport by alien-Nazis in the two-part "The Killing Game."

#94, Disaster, The Next Generation, Season 5, Episode 5

 'Disaster,' the second entry on Top 100 from the Next Generation, is fine example of a bottle episode. When a collision with an interstellar technobabble something or other (a quantum filament) causes an accident that incapacitates the Enterprise, the crew struggles to get back control before the ship explodes.

The Enterprise in 'sleep' mode. 

I should note that this episode was written by future Battlestar Galactica mastermind, Ronald D. Moore. The focus here is entirely character driven, and on putting these characters in unfamiliar territory. Situations counter to their nature. Captain Picard has to lead a group of children. Worf has to guide a woman through childbirth. And, the situation with the potential for the most disaster, Troi is put in command of the Enterprise.

Captain Picard has promised the winners of the Enterprise children's science fair a special tour of the ship. Picard, who in the pilot of the series stated that he's uncomfortable around children, is forced to get in touch with his paternal instincts and lead the children through the disaster. Throughout the episode, Picard has to adjust to leading children, something he admits to having little experience. By the end of the episode, he's bonded with these children. Effectively overcoming his admitted awkwardness with kids. Which means, by the end of the episode Picard is now without any weaknesses whatsoever. Because he is awesome.

When the accident happens, a redshirt bridge commander -- who we've never met before — bites it, and leaves Troi in command. Troi, it turns out, has the rank of Lieutenant Commander. This is not a thing that comes up often. Or, well, ever. Usually her role in the show is to state the obvious or move the plot forward. Here she's got to and she transitions from a position of uncertainty, blindly taking suggestions from O'Brien and Ensign Ro, to making command decisions that saves the lives of everyone on the crew.  But she does so on nothing but blind luck.

With no section of the ship able to communicate with any other part of the ship, their plan to save the Enterprise is dependent on someone alive in engineering able to reactivate the antimatter containment field saving the ship. Ro pushes for Troi to separate the saucer section and save everyone they can. And pushes hard. Troi refuses, wanting to give everyone the best possible chance to survive.

Troi is running entirely on faith, with no evidence that there's anyone else alive on the ship. Why she can't sense them is a convenient oversight in the story. But it's the convenience of her being right that kind of irks me here. There's an infallibility to the crew that cuts out the dramatic tension. And though there was never any real threat of the Enterprise blowing up, the only real consequence is the aforementioned redshirt. Everyone does the right thing in this episode. And every decision is validated with success. Fortunately, Riker and Data's head (see the episode, it'd take too long to explain) make their way to Engineering just in time, and everyone gets a mega-happy ending.

"Where is my happy ending, Counsellor?" — Data

Marina Sirtis does a good job of showing someone completely out of her element finding confidence in their decisions. When she finally takes control she does with as much gravitas as she's able.

And Worf delivers a baby in Ten Forward. Hilarity ensues.

My Favorite Moment in the episode... When Picard meets the winners of the children's science fair, he asks them about their experiments. The youngest of them had the strangest, and most awesome response. The boy said, "I planted radishes in special dirt and they came out all weeeeird." Complete with maniacal grinning and finger steepling. Aaaaannd, what? What the hell kind of mutant soil are they letting kids play with? What the hell kind of kid would want to do that? What the hell, Next Generation? Maybe growing up on a starship warps kids in ways we can't possibly imagine. During the episode, when Picard is trying to boost morale of the kids by assigning they ranks in their small crew, he appoints the kid the Executive Officer in Charge of Radishes.

It's a position that will not turn out well for any radish on board.

--

Next up on the list, Voyager's two-part 'Future's End.' Voyager travels back to the distant past in the 1990s and the villain is Ed Begley, Jr. If that doesn't sound like a recipe for success, then...

Okay, I have no idea how to finish that sentence. 

#95, The Most Toys, The Next Generation, Season 3, Episode 22

Here's the first entry for The Next Generation on the list, with 'The Most Toys.' I'm not unbiased here. The Next Generation is my Trek.

What's Klingon for 'Boo-yah!'? 

I think of Season Three of TNG as the season where the show found its legs. When it got it's space-crap together. When they ridded themselves of the zipper onesie, moved past left-over Phase II scripts, and started to get out of the shadow of The Original Series. There were hints of greatness throughout the first two seasons. Notably, 'Measure of a Man,' (later in the countdown), 'Matter of Honor' (which holds a special place in my heart because it may be the first episode of Trek I ever saw), 'Elementary My Dear Data,' 'Q Who?' and 'The Emissary.' But Season Three is, in my mind, when The Next Generation started to click.

Then, I re-watched 'The Most Toys.' On the whole, it's not a bad episode, but suffers from the production design. The sets, makeup, and costumes for the alien baddie Kivas Fajo and his crew have not aged very well. And in instances, look downright silly.

"Why, whatever are you saying?' — Kivas Fajo

However, if my gushing over seeing Brent Spiner as Dr. Soong in the three-part Khan-fest on Enterprise wasn't enough of an indicator, Data is one of my favorite characters in all of Trekdom. And there's a whole lotta Data in this episode. And the interchanges between Data and his captor are well-written.

An insanely wealthy, and amoral monster who is obsessed with unique artifacts throughout the galaxy. He's a collector who's private museum includes the Mona Lisa, a bird-thing that's thought to be extinct, a Joe Dimagio baseball card (complete with gum), and now, the universe's only known sentient android. He went through this ridiculously complicated scheme to kidnap Data, convince his crewmates that he perished in a shuttle accident, and put Data in his personal museum of one-of-a-kind object d'arts.

Meanwhile on the ol' 1701-D, as they with Data's passing, the rest of the crew start to realize that something was wrong with the accident and they hunt for the truth behind what happened to Data.

Data and Fajo go back and forth about the morality of keeping a sentient being as property. About passive resistance. About his personhood. About his rights as a living being, even if he is an artificial one. It would make a nice companion episode to 'Measure of a Man.' Spiner let's Data play in the quiet moments when he's alone with the other Exhibits. Playing with the alien bird-thing or trying to imitate Mona Lisa's smile.

Sentient Android, mint in box. 

Here's the thing I observed about Kivas Fajo. He's written as a stone-cold sociopath. His actions are taken without any consideration of anyone but self. He's insanely wealthy, and keeps his servants in line with the threat of torture and death. He kills on a whim and is single-minded in his mission to subjugate Data and bend the android to his will. Sit in the chair, android. Do as your told. Entertain me and my guests. This is your life until I tire of you and then put you in storage. I extrapolated that last part. Once he's stopped, in the Enterprise's brig for  he even promises to one day own Data again, as if the whole incident was a mere inconvenience to his obsession of possession. On the page, Fajo could be terrifying.

But he's not. The way he's played is effeminate, flighty, and flamboyant. He comes across as a spoiled brat rather than a threat. It's distracting from the weightier conversation of Data's newfound status as a slave in this man's private collection and the lengths to which Data must go to regain his freedom. And it's kind of disappointing, because there's a lot of good dialog here, undercut by a directorial choice. Data comes within milliseconds of vaporizing Fajo with an illegal disruptor as the only way out to not only free himself, but Fajo's other servants as well.

Throughout the episode, Data attempts passive resistance, trying to adhere to his Starfleet training and ideas. But when faced with the choice between slavery and freedom at the price of violence, he makes the latter choice. The only thing the stops him from that act a chance teleporter from the Enterprise that beams him to the safety of the ship. Data goes back to his duty, with only him knowing how close he came to killing someone.

It's a moment his crewmates never see — a super-intelligent machine who's made the decision that his survival is necessitated by the logical choice to override his programmed ethics and kill.

And it's a great moment, in an otherwise uneven episode.

--

Next up, #94 in the Top 100 Episodes of Trek of All Time. An accident leaves Troi in charge and it's a 'Disaster.' Season 5, Episode 5 of the Next Generation.

Troi-centric episodes are usually a warning sign, but I remember this one being not bad. We'll see.

A Few Quick Thoughts on the Fastest Man Alive

"Look out, old chum, those banana peel traps could only be the work of Grodd!" "Holy ape-feces, Flash!" 

In honor of the new Flash series, I'm sharing an old bit of photoshop fun. And a few thoughts on the show. 

As a long-time fan of the Scarlet Speedster, for the most part, I enjoy the new incarnation of the Flash. The Barry depicted here is giving me a Spider-Man vibe, in a good way. He's young, science geek who enjoys the thrill of his powers. The show looks great, and they're wasting no time in getting to the super-villainy. I'm waiting for them to get past the plain-clothes freak-of-the-week and full on costumes, but considering we got a glimpse of the Reverse Flash and had references to Grodd and Crisis on Infinite Earths were referenced in the pilot, I can assume it's only a matter of time. The Flash has a rogues gallery second only to Batman's or Spider-Man's, and I'm looking forward to seeing them in action. 

The show is not without its growing pains, however. I hope they can solve the problem of the fight scenes. As in how can a man who can dodge bullets not get out of getting taken down by a couple of guys punching and kicking at him. It's an internal logic inconsistency that I'll ignore for a while, but will be unable to give a pass to forever. 

The Flash, as a show, is much more sure of what it is than Gotham. Where Gotham walks the line between crime drama with superhero references and full-on comic-book show. I like that the show is not shying away from its comic book roots.

I'm enjoying it, and looking forward to see how it's going to unfold. And while, my nerd ire was raised when I first saw the costume, I realize it's a hollow and worthless complaint.* So for now, "Run, Barry, run!" 

"I'm running! I'm running!"

The photoshop work above is something that I had kicked around one evening. Again, it's from a place in the vin diagram where comic book nerdery, too much free time and knowledge of photoshop overlap. Enjoy!

*Seriously, though, I am not a fan of the show's super-suit. Too fiddly, too bulky, and it does not read as fast. Okay, I'll stop now. 

#96, Lineage, Voyager, Season 7, Episode 12

"You don't have to bring a Bat'leth to every argument, you know." — Tom Paris

Our second episode of Voyager in the countdown of the Top 100 Episodes of Trek, and the second one that is Klingon-centric.

Your enjoyment of this episode is entirely dependent on whether or not you like the characters of Tom and B'Elanna. Because pretty much all this episode is, is a character study of those two and their relationship. Particularly B'Elanna, and her self-loathing of her Klingon half.

Your milage may vary, but, I like them enough to find this episode really interesting.

B'Elanna discovers she's pregnant and upon her medical exam, comes to find that there's a complication with the pregnancy. The child has a degenerative spinal disease, passed down from her Klingon side. The Doctor can alter the child's DNA, removing the Klingon genomes causing the disease. And once she realizes that she can remove any trace of her Klingoness from her child, B'Elanna goes to a dark, dark place.

For someone who has always struggled with their mixed heritage, everything B'Elanna went through as a child — her being ostracized for her alien half, her feeling guilt for her father leaving her and her mother — she projects onto her unborn child. Her solution is extreme, to the have the Doctor rewrite the child's entire gene sequence and remove any trace of Klingon. When she learns that doing so would potentially change her daughter's personality, and entire being, B'Elanna pushes anyway. And when the Doctor refuses, B'Elanna goes so far as to reprogram the Doctor to comply (the implications of which is terrifying).

In addition predicting cellphones with the communicator, Trek also predicted the selfie? 

What they're talking about in this is the ethics of genetically modifying a child in the womb before birth. How far can you change someone before they stop being themselves? How far is too far? Where is that line? Who decides where that line is? What say does the father have? The questions proposed is not a subtle one. And, let's be clear, the episode is heavy-handed for sure. But they're tough questions. B'Elanna's diving into dangerous waters, tampering with the DNA of her child with unknown consequences, changing the fundamental personality of one of her shipmates to get what she wants.

The episode demands more of Dawson and McNeill as actors than perhaps any other Voyager episode. Are they up to the task? I'm going to say, mostly. Dawson's B'Elanna usually doesn't have more to do than growl in frustration and stomp around engineering. Granted, she does occasionally smile. But here... she pushes herself as a performer to make B'Elanna's plight sympathetic, and not just, well, crazy. McNeill has to set aside his imitation-Kirk-swagger to try and convince B'Elanna not only of the beauty of their child, but her own beauty. Their relationship has felt forced at times (I even recall an episode where the impetus for their relationship may have been the alien influence), but here it comes across as honest. Tom does love her. He does believe that B'Elanna is beautiful, not despite of but because of her Klingon side. Because it's who she is, and he loves who she is.

There's some klunkiness as the episode finds other things for the rest of the crew to do. Neelix wants to be the godfather. The Captain weighs in on the fact that she can't really weigh in because it's a family matter, and the other crew. Seven of Nine recognizes the irregularities in the doctor's program. Chakotay exists.

I'm wracking my brain to think of another episode of any Trek that is strictly a character study with no subplot to speak of. You could count the flashbacks of B'Elanna's childhood, but those tie directly to her emotional state in the rest of the story (again, this episode was not subtle). There's no exterior threat. Nothing external making the characters act out of character. No 'B' plot to speak of. Just taking these two characters, putting them in a moral conflict and seeing what happens.

And that's awesome.

--

Next up, the Next Gen with The Most Toys.

#97, Borderland, Cold Station 12, and The Augments, Enterprise, Season 4, Episodes 4-6

Hm.... Data, some genetically augmented humans aboard a Klingon ship? Not entirely sure what's happening...

So, let's cut to it. One of my issues Enterprise as a prequel (as with most prequels) is I always felt one step ahead of the characters on the show. I know what Klingons are, so there's no mystery. I know what Orions, Andorians, Romulans, and Tellarites are, so there's no mystery. Oh, the crew is afraid of transporters? Don't worry, they figure that out. Your ship can only go warp 5, and that's a big deal? They get past that.

As an excuse for setting the series in the past, I never really found the 'temporal cold war' that compelling. I felt like the whole show was boldly going to places that I've seen. And changing the nomenclature to 'fire phase cannons' and 'polarize the hull plating' doesn't fundamentally change the action from 'fire phasers' and 'raise shields.'

It's almost as if Enterprise's sole purpose was to pay homage to the Trek that came before it, with a painfully self-satisfied nod is that this took place before The Original Series. Enterprise is practically winking at the audience when they reference things like the prime directive, or, the Mirror, Mirror universe, or, when — and I can't believe I'm typing this — they faced the Borg.

They. Faced. The. Borg.

For. The. Grock. Of. God.

But the show is not without its positives. The production design is flat-out great, striking a great balance of futuristic-and-retro. The cast is fairly solid. Phlox's optimism and curious nature is damned charming. It's enjoyable, but seemed far more interested in the exploring the minutia of the Trek universe than looking outside of what's been done.

To that point, these three episodes feel like a crazy mix-tape of the Trek that have come before it. Klingon Birds of Prey, fight scenes, transporter shenanigans, Orion slave girls, genetic super humans, speeches about doing the right thing, firing torpedoes, sacrifice, Brent Spiner, and a whole lot of Wrath of Khan.

I mean, a whoooooooole lot. Like, down to the mullets and the ragged post-apocalyptic clothing.  Seriously, can super-intelligent supermen and superwomen not find clothes that make them look like a homeless hair-metal band? Seriously? Because, it appears that they cannot.

The plot revolves around a bunch is supposedly badass super soldiers, known as Augments, looking to assert their rightful place as supreme rulers of humanity. Freeing their creator, their 'Father,' Dr. Soong from prison, they set out to recover the augments embryos and create an ARMY OF GENETICALLY ENHANCED SUPERMEN! This should have been followed maniacal laughter in the show, but somehow, sadly, it wasn't.

And Brent Spiner is chewing so much scenery, I'm surprised there's any set left. But he's having a great time and it shows. He's the bright spot in these shows. And it's great to see him on screen again in an episode of Trek, even if it is some kind of 'Data's-creator's-grandfather' sort of way.

"Yes, tell me more about me and how great I am."

The first of these episodes has a fair amount of action that takes us from an assault on a Klingon ship, to an Orion slave auction, to Dr. Soong pulling a fast one to get back to his 'children.' There's a lot of talk about enhancing humanity because it's the right thing to do, and/or just because we can. Dr. Soong, though their creator is still a normal human and has a conflict with the leader of the Augments, the one with the mullet and the Khan-complex (oh, hell, that's all of them).

By midway through the second episode in the trilogy, it starts to drag on, and the action looses steam. They spend a serious amount of time trying to get the Augment embryos, and torturing some poor character actor to get them. And they seem to have the same conversation over and over again about the pros and Khans of genetic engineering.

I am completely sorry about that. I sometimes I cannot help myself.

The Augment decides to get the Federation off their backs by inciting a war with the Klingons with a weapon that would eradicate all life on one of their colonies. Coming from someone who is supposed to be super-intelligent, it's a dumb, convoluted plan that requires on a lot of luck and circumstance to pull off.

Archer gets his ass kicked, because he is not a super-human, but never gives up. Soong has a change of heart and helps the Enterprise crew take out his creations. Augments' Bird of Prey goes down in a fireball of torpedoey explosions. In the end, these episodes are an enjoyable, but it's far more interested in patting itself on the back for rewarding the audience for what they already know than taking them somewhere new.

One day, the shadow of Wrath of Khan will pass over Star Trek, but not this day.

--

Next up, more genetically augmented ethics questions from Voyager's seventh season with 'Lineage.'

Yay, ethics!

#98 "Paradise" Deep Space Nine, Season 2, Episode 15

Deep Space Nine makes it's first entry in io9's list of Top 100 Episodes of Star Trek, and the result is kinda... well, meh...

The face of homeopathic evil... 

Now, I like DS9, but will admit it took a while for it to find its legs. Like TNG, it's a few seasons before the show figurea out what it is and what makes it different. Not only did it debut immediately in the shadow of Next Gen at the height of its power, it also had Babylon 5 to deal with. Babylon 5, another science fiction show that launched at the same time also set aboard a space station, was, in many ways, god-fucking-awful. Seriously, it was not my thing.

Deep Space Nine takes a lot of flack among Trek fans, and for reasonable reasons. When it debuted, it didn't feel like Trek. The crew was stationary aboard a space station not really boldly going anywhere. There was a lot of politics going on. A major through-line in the show revolved around religion. The further it went along, the more serial and less episodic it became. It was a physically and psychologically darker show. The sets were alien and unfamiliar in design.

But, it was interesting. There was a lot to like. It was told from the point of view of a damaged man finding purpose again. It was the only Trek where the crew didn't get along.  The crew wasn't the paragons of the Federation, best-of-the-best-of-the-best-of-the-Flagship. They were complex. The villains turned out to be a totalitarian anti-Federation driven by their own Manifest Destiny in conquering the Galaxy. If the Enterprise the was the Shining Beacon of the Federation, Deep Space Nine was its shadow.

I like Sisko a lot. And, man, did Avery Brooks know how to chew scenery with a speech like a boss. I like Miles, Dax, and (mostly) Bashir. Hell, I even like Quark. And if the show did nothing else, it solidified Worf as an bonafide legend.

This episode, granted one of the better ones from the first two seasons, still isn't anything to really write home about. Yet, here I am writing about it mostly because my inherent OCD demands I complete the list. Stupid, broken brain.

Now, on to "Paradise."

Uh... It's not bad...

Okay, so Sisko and Chief O'Brien beam down to a planet where colonists have found a simpler life. A technobabble field prevents them from using their advanced technology and have formed a commune led by a woman named, Alixus. As they explore the village, they come to realize that the village is a cult, and Alixus is their undisputed leader. She has decided that the colonists have lost what it means to be human. What it means to work for what they have. What it means to get back in touch with nature. She is a philosopher, and a former scientist who has embraced her fate as someone who has been forced to live a simpler life.

As they explore the village and there are some chinks in the armor. Folk medicines are used instead of modern medical practices. Sisko and O'Brien are dismissive of the concept of the villagers turning their backs on medicine for more homeopathic solutions. They're baffled by the villagers discouraging them from trying to solve their problems through science. People are pushed to the brink of exhaustion. Disobedience is not an option (unless you like being put in a metal box on a hot day). And anyone who questions Alixus, is, well...

"What's in the boooooooox" — Sisko

As O'Brien looks for a means to contact their Runabout, he gets caught. Apparently looking for a way to disable the technobabble field to use technology again is verboten. Sisko, as O'Brien's CO is punished in his stead. And punishment means getting put in the sweatbox. Sisko goes for days without water in the brutal heat. He's let out for a reprieve and is given a choice. And all Sisko has to do is denounce his uniform, his oath to the Federation, and his principles for a glass of water and acceptance of the society.

Sisko crawls back in the box, presumably to die, rather than give Alixus what she wants — subjugation. It's a great moment, and speaks volumes about who Sisko is, and what his ideals mean to him. If there's any reason why this episode is on this list, it's this beat. Because, it's awesome.

Ultimately, I feel like the casting of the Alexis was fairly weak, and never really found her interesting as a threat. Some of the ideas presented are more interesting than the execution. It's heavy-handed in it's science versus anti-science conversation (if you can call it that). There's the notion that this is the Nth time that Star Trek has found a utopia that wasn't. And, I feel like they had a good half-hour spread too thin over 44 minutes.

When Sisko and O'Brien are saved by a rescue party, Alixus is revealed to have orchestrated the crash that marooned the colonists. She's revealed to have purposefully marooned unsuspecting people because her way of life is better, and by hook or by crook, she was going to prove it. And when she's dragged off for her crimes, some of the villagers choose to stay and continue the live the life they've built under her philosophy. It speaks to the power of cult of personality. Which might be another reason why this episode is on this list.

Like I said, not my favorite episode of the series — that would be either 'Far Beyond the Stars' or 'In the Pale Moonlight,' to be reviewed later in the countdown. But like DS9 itself is interesting, there are some interesting questions raised in the episode.

That, at least, is very true to its Trek heritage.

--

Next up on io9's list... oh, crap, it's a three-part Enterprise tale of genetic augmentation...  Borderland, Cold Station 12 and The Augments...

Three episodes? How is that fair, io9?

Stupid, broken, OCD brain.

Crap...

#99, "Day of the Dove" or "How I learned to stop worrying and love the Klingons"

"Don't let the weird makeup, my eyebrows, my shiny shirt and me wearing table runner as a sash fool you. I'm a complete, and utter badass." – Kang

So, here's my dark confession as a Trek fan... don't hate me... I have never really connected with the Original Series. Could be that I grew up in a place where the reruns didn't run. Or that my first exposure to the original cast was the interminably boring The Motion Picture. Or that I freaked out at the parasite scene in Wrath of Khan. Or maybe it was the first actual TV episode of Star Trek I ever saw was a Next Generation episode.

I have trouble looking past the production values. The sets, costumes, models, and effects have, shall we say, not aged well. It's a definitely a product of its time. That's not to say I don't appreciate the show. I've come to love some episodes, (more on them as they come up in the list), and but it's never been my Trek.

Okay, I'll stop now. I think you get where I'm coming from, but...

But...

But here's the thing about 'Day of the Dove." It's badass. It wastes no time in getting to the conflict between Kirk and Klingons. Kirk and party land on a decimated colony with no clue as to what happened to the colonists. Not even a hint that they were ever there. Hundreds dead. Everyone seems on edge as a strange ball of energy hovers just out of sight. Then who decides to show up? The Klingons. Their ship is immediately disabled and begins to drift. The Klingons beam down, give Kirk a swift beatdown, — a beam down, beatdown — and Kang, their leader, steps up with Kirk.

Now, Kang is a bad motherfucker. His battleship has been mysteriously taken down without the Enterprise ever firing a shot. Hundreds of his crew, Klingon warriors all, are dead. He's only got a handful of soldiers left, and he just says to Kirk, "Hey, you know what? Your ship? The one full of perfectly fine, not-dead officers, and a complete arsenal of Photon torpedoes and phaser? It's mine now and you're a prisoner of the Empire. Oh, and our two societies, the Federation and the Empire? We're at war now, because you're a dick." No ship to back that up. No army to get his back. He's got, like, five guys with him. That, my friends, takes space balls. Kang is completely metal.

And that's just the in cold open. "Day of the Dove" does not fuck around. Not at all.

In in the following posturing (both sides claim to have been lure to the planet by a perhaps non-existent distress call) Kirk tells Kang to "Go to the Devil." Which is an odd thing to say, but Kang's reply is nothing short of awesome. "We have no devil, Kirk, but we understand the habits of yours." Then proceeds to tell Kirk how he's going to torture Kirk and his crew to death. Which means Kang has studied his enemies. He's smart. Physically, he looms over Kirk. The episode does a fine job of presenting the Klingon Commander as not only Kirk's equal and darker shadow, but perhaps even his superior.

Then the weirdness starts. Chekov accuses the Klingons of murdering a brother he doesn't have. Later, when a fight aboard the Enterprise breaks out, swords magically appear. And everyone seems to be suuuuuper pissed. And no one can die, apparently. When Kang cuts out life support, it restores itself. Injured crew members are miraculously healed, so they can continue to fight.

In complete contrast to "Bride of Chaotica!," "Day of the Dove" is a dark episode. Mara, wife of Kang and badass in her own right, accuses the Federation of having concentration camps and experimenting on prisoners before they're executed. Chekov tries to, uh, force himself upon Mara before getting punched out by Kirk. Everyone has staight-up murder on their mind. Everyone is completely paranoid. Scotty slips in the f-word under his breath. Even Spock, after being called a half-blood freak confesses, "May I say that I have not thoroughly enjoyed serving with Humans?" Even Spock is on edge!

Wh-what's happening!?

Hey, remember that strange ball of energy? Turns out its an alien or something that feeds on hatred and violence. Not sure, how or why (it's never really explained), but it does. It's go the power to warp reality and manipulate the minds of these lesser beings and feeding off the conflict between the crew and the Klingons. It's goading them to fight, so it can feed on their delicious, delicious anger. It's Kirk who figures out how to defeat the unnamed, super-powerful alien energy being.

See, Kirk's the man.

Despite my above unloading of not being able to connect to the Original Series, I will acknowledge that Kirk is awesome. It's Kirk, not Spock, who proves he's the smartest man in the room by piecing the clues together. It's Kirk, not Spock, who pushes through his emotion to over come the alien influence. It's Kirk, not Spock, who has the answers. It's Kirk who chooses the difficult path of convincing his most hated enemy, that the only course of action is peace. Because the only way to defeat the alien influence is for Kirk to convince Kang to work together in friendship and good tidings to weaken the alien enough to break free.

Fighting is easy. Getting a Klingon warrior hellbent on murdering you to be your pal? Now, that's a challenge. That's why Kirk is captain, and Spock is just the Exposition Officer.

"What's so funny? Also, what's 'funny?'"— Spock

Despite the sets, costumes, models, and effects, this episode is pretty awesome. If "Day of the Dove" had been my introduction to the Original Series instead of The Motion Picture, I might have an entirely different perspective on the first generation crew of the Enterprise.

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Next up, a trip to Deep Space Nine with "Paradise."