In Star Trek Picard we see Raffi living at rock bottom for a while. She has no job after her discharge from Starfleet, and is clearly not doing as well. She describes her life as humiliation and rage.

And yet by modern standards she has a home, food, and power. Her drug usage isn't condoned but she's left largely alone to do it. By modern 21st century standards its a very soft landing.

Does it get worse than this? What is the worst possible economic outcome someone living on 24th Century Earth is likely to face.

The events of DS9: Past Tense imply that things aren't as bad as sanctuary districts and mass homelessness, but there's a lot of range between that and where Raffi landed. So what evidence do we have about how bad it can get?

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One of the fascinating things about this "third generation" of Star Trek (starting either with Star Trek 2009 or with Discovery) is the way the Star Trek universe has started to knit itself closer together by referencing existing backstory. For example, Discovery wholeheartedly embraced the idea that Andorians and Tellarites are key Federation members and should therefore be highly visible in Starfleet, building on lore originally implied in TOS, largely ignored by TNG, DS9, and VGR, and re-embraced by ENT. Prodigy, for its part, leaned very heavily on VGR for its worldbuilding source material.

This has also produced some interesting quiet exclusions from recent stories -- not to suggest they've been "decanonized" or anything like that, but clearly have been deprioritized. The Tholians come to mind as a ready example of this. Like the Gorn, they debuted in TOS, received stray mentions in DS9, before making an on-screen return in ENT. I wonder if the SNW writers considered using the Tholians but balked at a villain that had such different atmospheric requirements, and all the consequences that entails in terms of dramatic presentation. The Denobulans also seem to fall into a similar bucket; outside of a pair of appearances in PRO, they have received nary a mention since ENT.

Then of course we have the lengthy list of "one-off" civilizations, including the likes of

-the Sheliak
-the Husnock
-the Tzenkethi
-the Jarada
-the Miradorn

And in terms of "underexplored corners", I've only been focusing on the civilizations, but there are any number of other corners we could poke into. The Department of Temporal Investigations, the Corps of Engineers, the Federation Council, the Lunar Colonies... the Trekverse is littered with these little crumbs all over the place -- tiny seeds of ideas that suggest opportunities for imagination.

For my part, I would love to learn more about the Sheliak. For one thing, they seem like they would benefit from the advances in CGI over the last 30 years. But I like that they seem equally matched to the Federation in terms of strength, and that their hyperfocus on legal compliance gives them a generally underused "hat" to wear in the Trekverse. They have some similarity to Vulcans, but taken to an extreme, and layered in with real disdain for "lower life forms" that I think would make for a fascinating "adversary" -- I'd love to see Captain Pike or Captain Seven in a verbal jousting match with a Sheliak commander.

What is an underexplored corner of Trek lore that you think merits exploration?

This is the Daystrom Institute Episode Analysis thread for Strange New Worlds 2x02 Ad Astra Per Aspera.

Now that we’ve had a few days to digest the content of the latest episode, this thread is a place to dig a little deeper.

We often see technology from the future brought back to the present, whether as a case of a chance encounter, or something more.

However, it’s also fairly uncommon to see those technologies pop up against after they’ve been introduced. One such example is the ablative armour generators that Admiral Janeway fitted to the Voyager, being prototypes from a future Starfleet, which are seen in that episode, and then never again, even in shows that are set after the time she left.

The reason for this might be that the Federation does not want to run the risk of being accused of violating the temporal prime directive (or accidentally running afoul of it in some other way), and shelves that particular technology entirely.

From their standpoint, it would be rather difficult to separate a technology that the Federation developed of their own accord, compared to one that they might have developed from being inspired by, or reverse-engineering a piece of future technology, so they shelve it, rather than risk the trouble, never developing the preliminary steps to reach that future technology.

The only anachronistic part of this is the Doctor’s mobile emitter, which is a variant of 26th century technology, and was developed into Picard, but that can be explained by it being reverse engineered from 26th century technology, by someone in the 20th century, technically making it technology from the past. Since it is Earth technology from their own past, they might be able to get away with iterating on their own version without risking trouble with the various temporal enforcement agencies.

Numerically speaking, the vast majority of Ferengi we see on screen are sporting what have sometimes been called “headskirts”. Virtually every Ferengi we see on-screen — from the marauder crewmen in Next Generation to Quark’s waiters to various Ferengi businessmen seen in the background — is wearing one. Rom and Nog even wear color-coordinated versions of them once they join the Bajoran militia and Starfleet, respectively.

However, there are a few conspicuous exceptions to this otherwise apparently universal practice, most notably among them being Quark, the only Ferengi character billed as a series lead. This is particularly jarring, as Quark otherwise frames himself as the most Ferengi Ferengi around.

From a real-world perspective, I suspect that the headskirts were originally created to avoid creating a full head prosthetic for guest actors. Once the character of Quark was created, the cost of a reusable full head prosthetic would have been less prohibitive.

In universe, after reviewing which Ferengi are shown with and without headskirts, I believe I have a theory that fits what we’re shown on-screen, and gives us some grounds to infer a few extra bits about certain characters.

First, I propose that the “default” practice for Ferengi is to wear a headskirt. That would explain why we see them worn so frequently. However, I suggest that it is an option to abstain from a headskirt — under certain conditions.

Fundamentally, I propose that the absence of a headskirt indicates that a Ferengi believes he is a “top dog” — in that he has no one above him who could be considered his “boss.” However, I also suggest that there is some subjectivity and risk in this. (Note that “top dog” is not a coincidental choice of words on my part: the Ferengi logo is said to have been drawn to describe the “dog eat dog eat dog” mentality of a capitalist society.)

Zek and Gint are the clearest examples of this: as Grand Nagus, they are the pinnacle “top dog.”

Quark would also fit this criterion: Odo, Kira and Sisko aside, there basically is no one whom Quark answers to (unlike his waiters, who answer to him). Rom and Nog do not fit this criterion, for a few different reasons. Nog is a child at the series start before starting essentially an apprenticeship on his way to joining Starfleet; and obviously once he joins Starfleet, he continues to have those who outrank him. Rom answers to his brother before joining the station’s maintenance crew, at which point he ultimately answers to O’Brien.

There are several other Ferengi who do not wear headskirts, and it definitely is not a clean and tidy division between the bosses and the workers. However, that is where some subjectivity comes in. Rather than being a hard-and-fast rule, the absence (or presence) of a headskirt may be an assertion: “I’m a top dog and I dare you to say otherwise.” It then turns to one’s peers to decide if the claim is justified; if you make the claim but then don’t have the status to back it up, then you lose credibility and standing. So removing one’s headskirt is not without its risk.

Who else have we seen without headskirts?

Galia: as an arms merchant who can purchase his own moon, he would likely be seen as a “deserving top dog” — perfectly reasonable for him to abandon the headskirt.

Brunt: an FCA liquidator, his bare head takes on some new significance in this framework. The FCA is described as “answering to no one” — if that is true, then Brunt’s bare head would serve to reinforce that idea to all those misfortunate enough to cross his path. It’s also possible that liquidators are supposed to answer to someone — a manager or the like — but that Brunt goes bald anyway, just to flaunt his de facto latitude.

Nilva: as the chairman of a large Ferengi company, he likewise probably enjoys “deserving top dog” status.

Reyga: a Ferengi scientist and a bit of a maverick; we might interpret his bare head as indicating some level of rejection of Ferengi norms; if my proposed framework is true, then it is a louder act of protest than we would otherwise realize

Prak: though I doubt this was an intentional choice on the part of the showrunners (I suspect his bare head is the result of extra prosthetics being available from the concurrent production of DS9), Prak does give us an interesting example of someone who perhaps is “too big for his britches” — it is rare to see a DaiMon without a headskirt (presumably because they must answer to some sort of Ferengi admiral), but it’s easy to imagine a DaiMon who is cocky enough to flaunt their bare head — and is probably ridiculed by all his underlings for it. (Recall how Starfleet Captain Styles in The Search For Spock has been mocked for his swagger stick.)

There are several Ferengi whom we might expect to go bare under this framework who still wear the headskirt. Chief among these is Lek, who by his own admission works alone. Lek probably could justify “top dog” status if he wanted to. But the default is to wear a headskirt: to go bare is to make an active statement, and thereby draw attention to oneself. I imagine there are more than a few Ferengi who could justify their own “top dog” status but who would rather keep a lower profile (Rule of Acquisition 168: “Whisper your way to success”).

~ ~ ~

What do you think? Are there any good counter-examples to this? (I admit, I did not check the appearance of every Ferengi in every episode. So it’s possible that I missed someone!) Is this consistent with other things we’ve seen in Ferengi society? Are there any other possible explanations for the pattern of skirted vs bare heads?

In "Looking for Par'Mach in All the Wrong Places", Grilka's senior retainer (Tumek) takes Worf aside and tells him that he cannot pursue Grilka, as he is from a dishonored house. But hadn't Gowron cleared the House of Mogh? I feel like I'm missing or forgetting something obvious. Otherwise, my best explanation would be that although the House of Mogh was formally cleared, it was still regarded with suspicion by more conservative Klingons.

We've seen it many, many times: the ship gets into a firefight, takes a few hits, shakes around, and consoles explode (possibly taking an unfortunate ensign with them). Eventually the battle is resolved with our heroes largely intact if somewhat shaken up. If it was a particularly nasty battle, there will be signs of damage: scorches on the walls, deformed equipment, busted lights, and rocks scattered about.

All of that seems reasonable... except the rocks, which look pretty out of place in a spiffy 24th century starship. So why are they there?

The traditional monologue, as used in TOS, TAS, TNG, Strange New Worlds, as well as the endings of Enterprise and several movies, can be taken as a sort of overall mission statement for the Enterprise, possibly even one that takes place in-universe.

If the other series-- Deep Space Nine, Voyager, Discovery, Picard, Lower Decks, and Prodigy-- had similar mission statements, how might you phrase them?

It's never made much sense that the entire multi-species Federation would be subject to a strict ban on genetic engineering due to events on Earth that happened centuries before the Federation was even founded. The way they doubled down on that rationale in Una's trial only highlighted the absurdity -- especially when Admiral April claimed he would exclude Una to prevent genocide.

On the one hand, the writers may be trying to create a straw man out of a weird part of Star Trek lore so they can have a civil rights issue in Starfleet. And that's fine. From an in-universe perspective, though, I think we can discern another reason for the ban on genetic engineering -- the Klingon Augment Virus.

There was a ban on genetic engineering on United Earth, which is understandable given that it was much closer to the time of the Eugenics Wars. Why would that remain unchanged when more time passed, more species joined, and more humans lived in places without living reminders of the war? [NOTE: I have updated the paragraph up to this point to reflect @Value Subtracted's correction in comments.] The answer is presumably that they needed to reassure the Klingons that something like the Augment Virus would never happen again. Hence they instituted a blanket ban around that time -- perhaps in 2155, the year after the Klingon Augment Virus crisis and also, according to Michael Burnham, the year the Geneva Protocols on Biological Weapons were updated.

That bought the Federation over a century of peace, but after war broke out due to a paranoid faction of Klingons who thought humans would dilute Klingon purity and after peace was only secured through the most improbable means, they doubled down on the ban. Una's revelation provided a perfect opportunity to signal to the Klingons that they were serious about the ban -- hence why they would add the charges of sedition, perhaps. Ultimately, an infinitely long speech and the prospect of losing one of their best captains combined to make them find a loophole -- but not to invalidate the ban or call it into question. This Klingon context is why April, who we know is caught up in war planning of various kinds, is so passionate that the ban exists "to prevent genocide" -- he's not thinking of people like Una, he's thinking of the near-genocide they suffered at the hands of the Klingons.

This theory still doesn't paint the Federation in a positive light, since they have effectively invented a false propaganda story to defend a policy that has led to demonstrable harm. But it makes a little more sense, at least to me. What do you think?

The Galaxy class starship was designed with the ability to separate the saucer from the stardrive section, so that the "floating city" part of the ship could be left somewhere safe while the rest of the ship galavants off to do something risky. We see this happen precisely once, in the season one episode Arsenal of Freedom. We also see saucer separation deployed for a handful of tactical and or emergency uses (such as against the Borg in The Best of Both Worlds, or to escape the breaching warp core in Generations).

So, this seems like a useful ability to have, and the Enterprise is constantly being sent into dangerous situations. Why not use this ability more frequently?

What amazes me most about this episode is that it’s a Star Trek legal episode that doesn’t want to make me tear my hair out. Thankfully they kept the trial procedure to its most basic.

The title means loosely, in Latin, “To the Stars Through Hardship/Difficulties,” or “A Rough Road Leads to the Stars”. It is the motto of the state of Kansas, can be found on NASA’s Apollo I memorial, and also in-universe the motto of the United Earth Starfleet in ENT.

As a child, Una suffered a serious leg injury, but her father refused to take her to the hospital for fear of the doctors discovering her modifications. We see the open wound glowing, like Una did when manifesting her abilities in SNW: “Ghosts of Illyria”.

Batel offers a plea deal: plead guilty to knowingly submitting false information to Starfleet by failing to disclose her genetic modifications, and Starfleet will dishonorably discharge her without prison time. The charge could carry a two-year minimum imprisonment term, so Batel and Una’s JAG-appointed counsel advise her to take it. Una recognizes that this is designed to sweep this under the carpet, and questions how she can have effective counsel if he works for Starfleet. This is a live issue in military trials even today, and to discuss it properly would take more space than we have here.

It is Stardate 2393.8. Pike is on a planet in the Vaultera Nebula to persuade Counselor Neera Ketoul, the civil rights lawyer he and Una discussed in the previous episode, to take up her case. The atmosphere is toxic to humans and Pike requires an oxygen mask to get around. The local inhabitants are Illyrian, genetically adapted to survive.

Ketoul used to be Una’s friend but something came between them. She notes that Starfleet’s race laws are draconian and Una’s lucky not to be charged with sedition. Ketoul has had 10 cases against the Federation thrown out over the last 2 years despite being strong ones. Pike makes reference to the events of “Ghosts of Illyria” and convinces her that taking this case might bring more attention to those she’s lost.

The case file Pike hands to Ketoul is contained on a translucent orange square, like a cross between the old data cartridges of TOS and the isolinear chips of TNG.

The last time Neera and Una met was 25 years ago (we find out later that was when she joined Starfleet), which makes it around 2234-2235 (SNW: “Children of the Comet” suggests it was at least 2260 then). It’s been two months since Starfleet found out about Una’s modifications. Until then her record had been spotless.

Batel refers to the JAG as her boss, although she was also commanding the USS Cayuga in SNW: “The Quality of Mercy”, that was helping Enterprise upgrade the Neutral Zone outposts. In the present day military, trained JAG officers can technically alternate between legal duties and being line officers in a separate MOS as required, and Batel could be in that position. It is possible she used to be a JAG officer, switched to a starship captaincy and then was reactivated for Una’s case because she was the closest qualified JAG officer.

The Judge is Admiral Vasak, and Batel is accompanied by a Vulcan Vice-Admiral, Pasalk (the JAG?). Both Admirals are dressed in variations of the blue uniforms last seen in DIS with Admiral rank flashes on their shoulders.

Because Una has rejected the plea deal, Batel applies to amend the charges against Una to knowingly submitting false information to Starfleet and violating Starfleet Code 614 to 617 by engaging in permanent bioengineering, along with two counts of sedition. She announces she’s seeking a sentence of dishonorable dismissal and 20 years in a Federation penal colony.

The way Batel phrased it (and taking Ketoul’s earlier remarks about Una being lucky not to be charged with sedition), I surmise Una’s original charges were only the false information and permanent bioengineering charges. As we find out later, they fall under the same regulations, so the false information charge is probably specific to information about bioengineering rather than a general false reporting offence.

The plea deal was then not a reduction, but merely to plead guilty to one and have the other one either withdrawn or taken into consideration (i.e. not sentenced separately for). Batel’s application is therefore to add the sedition charges not previously put forward and proceed with all charges at trial.

A global sentence of 20 years seems harsh, and that’s probably because of the sedition charges and also because they’re charging her under military regulations. Over a century later, Richard Bashir would be sentenced to two years in a minimum-security penal colony for genetically modifying his son, which as a civilian he would have been subject to civil laws (DS9: “Doctor Bashir, I Presume?”).

Robert April sponsored Una’s application to the Academy. She served under him for years (alongside Pike on Enterprise) and he promoted her.

Ketoul is assigned Una’s quarters on the Enterprise for the duration. She is escorted there by La’An, who is back in uniform. Ketoul asks for access to the Starfleet Uniform Code of Justice - presumably their equivalent of the US military’s Uniform Code of Military Justice.

La’An refers to Starfleet v. Wyck, which points to the “fruit of the poisonous tree” doctrine - a well-known rule in US law which states that illegally procured evidence, or indeed even evidence indirectly derived from that, is inadmissible in Court.

Una and Pike met when he gave a speech to her Academy class, talking about a test mission he’d flown. Una pointed out a mistake he had made during re-entry, impressing him with her willingness to tell him he was wrong, qualities important in a first officer.

Ortegas’ miming of Pasalk and Spock’s conversation mentions kal-toh, a Vulcan logic game/puzzle first seen in VOY: “Alter Ego” and most recently in PIC: “No Win Scenario”. M’Benga reads the Vulcan body language and says the two hate each other. He would, of course, be familiar with it since he did a medical internship on Vulcan (TOS: “A Private Little War”). Spock says Pasalk was a former colleague of Sarek’s.

Uhura quotes Regulation 25, Section B, that all personal logs are to remain sealed unless by order of Starfleet Command. Regulation 25 was quoted in LD: “Second Contact” as prohibiting the transfer of weapons to other races without the permission of the Federation Council, so it seems odd on first blush that personal logs should be lumped under that section as well, but maybe it’s just a result of a century of regulatory amendments.

The tribunal is called to order with a ship’s bell, as first seen in TOS: “Court Martial”. Behind the panel is the JAG Office seal. Javas is presiding, along with Space Command Representative Zus Tlaggul, a Tellarite, and Starfleet Commander Chiv, a Vulcan. Batel and Una are dressed in division colored versions of the Admiral uniforms, which are redesigns of the dress uniforms seen in TOS, complete with medals being displayed on the left chest.

Batel refers to the Eugenics Wars (TOS: “Space Seed”) as the impetus for the genetic modification ban, with tens of millions dead. April says Starfleet Regulation 17, Article 12 specifically prohibits genetically modified people from serving in Starfleet.

April words General Order One as, “No starship may interfere with the normal development of any alien life or society.” This is a summary, as the actual order was seen for the first time in PRO: “First Con-tact”, and the wording taken from David A. Goodman’s book *Federation: the First 150 Years”.

In 2246 (one year after Enterprise was commissioned), April warned the Perricans, a pre-warp civilization about a meteor shower that could have ended their planet. In 2248, he sent his science officer to Na’rel, an industrial age planet to stave off an extinction-level drought by sharing Federation technology. On the hostile planet Man-us II, landing without his security officer, April chose to reveal the Enterprise to the pre-warp Ohawk. Apart from the violations, this suggests that GO1 was in force by 2246 at least.

April promoted Una faster than any other officer on the ship and recommended her for the Medal of Gallantry after the Marcel disaster of 2248.

La’An graduated top of her class and has been promoted each year of her tenure in Starfleet. That means she’s been in service for about two to three years (assuming ENS, LT j.g. and LT progression). That also allows us to calculate her age to be - at a minimum - 23 to 24 years old (entry at age 16-17, 4 years at the Academy, 3 more years in service). She has also been considered for the Starfleet Medal of Gallantry.

La’An met Una when she was rescued after escaping a Gorn breeding planet (SNW: “Strange New Worlds”, when Una was an ENS on the USS Martin Luther King). She lies when she says she didn’t know Una was Illyrian (“Ghosts of Illyria”). Una sponsored La’An’s application to Starfleet.

Spock met Una on his first day aboard Enteprise (ST: “Q & A”) and mentions her love for Gilbert & Sullivan (which she swore him to secrecy on, damn you Spock!).

In Una’s quarters we see a picture of her as a child with her parents alongside a picture of Pike in his DIS blues next to Una in her DIS Season 2 uniform (DIS: “An Obol for Charon”).

La’An believes that someone got a hold of her personal log in “Ghosts of Illyria” and that was how Una was outed. La’An also carries her ancestor’s augmentations (confirming something we’ve long suspected) and fears she could become dangerous. Ketoul assures her genetics is not destiny and given the time - 6 months minimum - it’s needed to subpoena a persona log, it’s unlikely La’An was responsible.

(Continued in comments)

Poor Terry Matalas. It's clear from numerous post-season interviews that, for as elaborate as S3 became by the end (rebuilding the Enterprise-D! Bringing back Ro and Tuvok! Changelings and Borg and Lore!), his original vision was yet more elaborate. Apparently he originally planned to have Janeway and Kim also appear, and to show Ro still alive in the brig with Tuvok at the end of the season. The man clearly was dreaming big.

Given that, it seems slightly implausible that he would omit material purely out of carelessness. And the absence of Alexander seems like a pretty large omission -- especially in a season that was so focused on the parent-child relationship and the idea of "the next generation". Yes, there are all these memes about Worf forgetting Alexander, but that doesn't strike me as the kind of fan service Matalas was going for.

From a storytelling perspective, omitting Alexander seems pretty similar to why Odo was mentioned adoringly as "a man of honor" but not named: there was already a lot of backstory and reference being woven into the story, and throwing out a random name -- or a random concept like, "Oh yeah, Worf has an estranged son" -- would create too much to unpack.

Likewise, it seems like they wanted Worf to have a paternal presence with Raffi, so omitting Alexander simplified that story.

But still: in a season that was all about parents and their children, it seems significant that they couldn't find any way to reference him.

Unless...

Worf has a memorable scene with Raffi where he tells her, "Don't presume to know what I have sacrificed" (or something to that effect). Surprisingly, that line is never followed up on... explicitly.

But I suggest that that is where we learn of Alexander's fate: Worf has lost his son. Whether to death or desertion or deep undercover work, who can say? But we have an open question -- where is Alexander? -- and we have a vague statement that is never otherwise explained -- that Worf has sacrificed a great deal -- and given how much the rest of the season ties itself together, I suspect this was meant to be a subtle nod to explain away Alexander's absence.

Why not make it explicit? Why doesn't Worf tell anyone about Alexander? I argue it's because they wanted to save the "grieving parent" story for Riker + Troi, especially Riker. Explicitly portraying both Riker and Worf as grieving fathers would create an elephant in the room too big to ignore, and would've taken up much more space in the story.

So, instead, poor Alexander is consigned to a mysterious comment from his father -- perhaps fodder for some future tie-in novel, or perhaps someone we might meet in Star Trek: Legacy.

Are there other theories as to where Alexander might be, or why the writers did not mention him?

To say Discovery has been "controversial" would be something of an understatement. From the very beginning the show sparked off considerable debate about it's quality, and the bevy of showrunner changes and resulting shifts in tone and plot choices just adds an extra layer of confusion. Many of the same groups and same people continue to have very similar arguments over what is clearly a completely different show in 2023 than it was in 2017. Personally I've become frustrated to the point of disinterest about where this show has gone, which makes it all the more exciting to go back and (re)discover something I thought I knew but had begun to really wonder about:

The very beginnings of Discovery are fucking excellent television.

Here's why.

Early Discovery was actually planned out

To start with, the pacing and plotting of both the individual episodes and the overall arc of the season are excellent. In the moment, they are delightfully seamless: pacing is brisk but not rushed, traversing from one important thing to the next, with emotional moments given an appropriate amount of time to be registered and felt without feeling drawn out. Each episode has a clear beginning, middle, and end, with individual stakes that matter beyond simply advancing the season plot. Of course they consistently advance the overall season plot too (with the exception of Magic to Make the Sanest Man Go Mad, which is "merely" a wonderfully executed standalone sci fi story that significantly develops three of our main characters). They do so not by dropping largely inconsequential teases and misdirection in alleged pursuit of a goal fated for resolution only in the finale, but via bite sized, meaningful changes to the circumstances our heroes find themselves in.

This demonstrates something which is clearly absent from the subsequent seasons, and even tossed away before the end of this one: detailed long term planning. Not only are we spared the bizare shifts in background information (is the Red Angel suit hyper advanced future tech, or something a research team banged out 20 years ago? Is the 32nd century Federation tiny, isolated, and largely ignored, or are they active galactic participants with genuine political clout?), but it's also critical for allowing the episodes to flow neatly together as a coherent story. There's been plenty of debate about if Star Trek should even be trying to tell these long-arc, binge-friendly seasonal stories, but clearly CBS wanted that. So why not do it right?

Early Discovery (mostly) makes sense

Every Star Trek show has had it's share of silly stuff. Obviously TOS was absolutely loaded with zany things that seem more in keeping with it's cardboard and hot glue aesthetics than the more serious tone subsequent shows attempted to set, but even the best of TNG era Trek had some whoppers mixed in. Where it has succeeded is by keeping most of the wacky missteps in relatively unimportant places, encapsulated by single episodes and devoid of larger consequence.

Then there's the tech which every Starfleet ship is totally reliant on, most of which has only a fleeting connection to real world physics. The Mycelial Network blends right in: it's a pretty wild idea and most certainly is not real. Just like warp drive. And just like warp drive, it is at least based on something real. Ehh, close enough.

I have little desire to relitigate in depth the plausibility of S2/S3 Burnham being intimately connected to so many wildly disparate galaxy changing things, or how reasonable it is to have a emotionally distraught child trigger a galactic cataclysm that nobody could solve for over a century, but I'll certainly contend that early Discovery's WTF rate is more in line with TNG era Trek than it's more recent seasons have been. A low bar? Sure. But a relevant one.

Early Discovery did good job developing characters

By the end of those nine episodes, we've had a reasonable detailed introduction to six main characters, and all of them have at least a little extra dimensionality to them, enough that they feel real and as presented, I do care what happens to them:

Burnham is our focusing lens for the story and certainly gets the most screen time, but she's also far from the most important person on the ship. We know she's a proficient officer, but also that she fucked up royally with massive repercussions in the opening acts of the show. That dichotomy lines up well with her odd mix of behaviors: conflicted about how much she deserves the second chance she was thrust into, yet supremely confident in her own abilities. Highly empathetic towards the Tardigrade, yet unhesitant and unapologetic in manipulating Saru into being a walking danger meter. There's clearly major unresolved trauma there, and I'd like to see this person develop more naturally from here. She should have her redemption, but she'll need to earn it: not through one grand gesture of genocide refusal, but by demonstrating over time that she is dealing with her demons, and really has learned from the disaster at the binaries.

Speaking of the most important people on the ship, Stamets is chief among them. He has neither the desire nor the mentality to be a warrior, and yet he serves an irreplaceable and absolutely critical role in what has clearly become a ship of war. He's a jerk when we first meet him, but his military necessitated chance to get close and personal with his research shows us a softer side, and likely changed him in ways that we're just starting to see develop. Culber is still mostly one-note, but as a couple they play very well off each other.

Saru has a decidedly alien mentality for a military officer, but is clearly good at what he does. He is both thoughtful and candid about his past and present conflicts with Burnham, and his stint as acting captain in Choose Your Pain showed considerable growth. I want to see more of this guy learning to command (and I will get some, if less than I'd like).

Tilly is an absolute delight. She has her share of minor and harmless tics, babbling when she's nervous and occasionally blurting things out when excited, and she's vulnerable to getting flustered... but can still pull herself together and do what must be done. She shows an impressive level of emotional intelligence in her interactions with Burnham and Stamets, and she also has the awareness and confidence to identify what she wants in life, and fight for it. That's an incredibly endearing combination, and makes her the emotional heart of the show. Give me more, much more, of Burnham mentoring Tilly up to an eventual captaincy. Maybe Tilly could only reasonably work her way to full Lieutenant or Lieutenant Commander over the course of a seven season show, but that would be plenty: I'm not here to see four pips, I'm here to see believable growth in an already sympathetic character.

Lorca and Tyler I'll be touching on later.

(Continued in the comments...)

In DS9 Quark makes a throwaway line about the Great Monetary Collapse that happened during his early lifetime. He describes it as a period caused by "rampant inflation and currency devaluation."

This description might seem puzzling at first, because the Ferengi have always been shown to use hard currency. Hard currencies are generally deflationary currencies, with a fixed or at least limited supply and a growing (and hoarding) population. The only way a currency can rapidly inflate is to increase the supply of the currency, or alternately for there to be a shortage of things to buy.

In short, inflation requires too much money chasing too few goods.

I hypothesize here that the Ferengi experienced an economic collapse caused by replicator technology, specifically the point at which replicators became able to create gold. The Ferengi experienced this shock more severely than most other cultures, not only because they use hard currency, but also because they revere it.

What happens to an economy when replicators show up? The answer is not inflation. A replicator makes goods for cheap. If you can conjure up your Raktajino out of thin air and energy, the price of a Raktajino is going to plummet to the cost of that energy. As long as you are not on board a ship which needs to ration energy, cheap becomes functionally free.

This is the apparent engine behind the Federation's economy. In Federation space, everyone gets a protein resequencer, and there is no more hunger. Then later, everyone gets a more replicator, and clothing is free too. Every year a new advancement, and every advancement brings a new thing that the citizens can conjure up.

But the Ferengi do not think like that. If your religion is based on making a profit, you do not give away the source of free goods. The Ferengi likely had a small number of early entrepreneurs with a monopoly on replicators, setting their prices to what the market would bear.

Even under this system, the prices must fall. As long as the Ferengi compete, seek profits, and can produce goods indistinguishable from one another, prices must fall. Cartels can form to prop prices up, but a cartel only lasts until someone new gets a replicator. Sooner or later, everyone will get a replicator, and the Ferengi will have to find other ways to make a profit.

The shock of cheap goods can collapse economic sectors. Yet progress marches on. Where the Ferengi ran into problems wasn’t the production of goods, but of their reverence for hard currency.

The Ferengi relationship with currency is not like other cultures. At the start of TNG: The Outpost Ferengi did value gold, to a point of finding it offensive that the Federation officers would wear it brazenly.

Now Ferengi are not unique in finding value in gold. Everyone used to value gold. During TOS: Devil In The Dark, they were willing to risk the lives of workers despite deaths just to get access to the gold and platinum, and when they finally made peace with the Horta they were quite happy. Archer uses gold bars to negotiate with the Ferengi, who accept this even after it is made clear they are gold, not gold-pressed latinum.

But by the events of DS9: Who Mourns for Morn, a distraught Quark makes clear, gold is absolutely worthless. This is a radical change, but the evidence suggests it is not merely a continuity change.

We must then ask, when did gold become worthless? Quark does seem to value it only a few seasons earlier, in DS9: Little Green Men, but this happened when Quark was far in the past, and knew he was in the past.

The best example I can find of worthlessness comes from TNG: The Price. While some details are lost on-screen, the original script has some stage direction which I think is instructive.

[Goss] turns the sack upside down and a pile of gold bars spills out across the tabletop.

GOSS: I'll match anyone's best offer... and add the gold on top of it.

He holds out his hands in a fait accomplit motion. Sits back in his chair, with a confident grin. Bhavani reacts, nonplussed. Picard EXITS...

So from the script it's clear, Goss thought gold was useful, and no one else in the room did.

We can then assume that at this point in time (2366) the Ferengi (or some subset of them) were behind in replicator technology, and it resulted in Goss making a fool of himself, bargaining with someone he valued, and no one else did.

This is a society on the brink of collapse. In fact the collapse may already be happening behind the scenes.

Why didn’t the Ferengi see this coming? I believe the Ferengi religion left them blind to the danger. Ferengi do not merely value gold as a good. In fact, they do not merely value it as a currency. The existence of the Blessed Exchequer paints an interesting picture of the Ferengi relationship with their currency. Every Ferengi believes that their afterlife is determined by their ability to make a profit. Thus, every gold bar held by a Ferengi is their spiritual salvation.

The destructiveness of a currency collapse cannot be understated. Quark comparing it to war trauma is played for laughs, but it was not funny to him. If he has any belief in the afterlife, it was was an existential threat to him.

Replicators didn't just crash the economy of the Ferengi. It threatened to damn their very souls.

In fact I would speculate there is a reason why the Ferengi use gold trappings around latinum. The shape, the weight, the feel of currency matters to them. Visiting the Nagus requires the paying of respects, literally. Pressing latinum into a metal was convenient. Pressing latinum into gold was an important symbolic transition.

Leaning into some apocryphal sources now, a little beautiful tidbit emerges. In DS9: Ferengi Love Songs we learn that the Grant Negus who preceded Zek, called Smeet, presided over one of the largest market slides in recent Ferengi history, and was assassinated in office. Thus he likely saw the effects of free gold. According to the Legends of the Ferengi, Smeet was credited with writing the 89th, 202nd, and 218th Ferengi Rules of Acquisition. The 218th rule, according the the DS9 Comic Baby on Board reads as follows:

Sometimes what you get free costs entirely too much.

When studying vertebrate paleontology, the skeleton is one of the most important, and often the only, clue we have to the appearance of long-extinct animals. In Lower Decks: "Kayshon, His Eyes Uncovered", we were treated to the ghoulish sight of of Spock's skeleton ^1, ^2, courtesy of the remains of his giant clone from TAS: "The Infinite Vulcan." Any dinosaur fan knows that while there's only so much bones can tell you about the living animal, they can still tell quite a story. I am not an expert in anatomy and not a trained paleontologist, but it is my hope that analyzing the remains of Spock the Larger will provide further insight into the anatomical differences between humans and Vulcans. By way of comparison, here is an anatomical diagram of the human skeleton: ^3

Dentition

As near as I can tell, adult Vulcans appear to have 28 teeth to the human's 32, seven on each side ^4, ^5 on top and bottom. (It's possible that Spock could have had his wisdom teeth out, but presumably the clone would have undergone no such procedure, and no empty sockets are in evidence.) Looking closely at the teeth themselves, six molars, four incisors, and four bicuspids per side are in evidence. There is no sign of the canines a human has. This suggests that Vulcans evolved from a herbivorous answer. Could Vulcans' propensity for vegetarianism be a biological imperative rather than a cultural tendency?

Skull

The proportions of the Vulcan skull as depicted in this image compared to the human skull in this image are fairly simpler. The skull, across the zygomatic along the upper corner of the orbit, is 101 pixels wide on the Vulcan as depicted in figure 1 and 75 pixels wide in the human as depicted in figure 3. The height of the skull, respectively, is 173 and 132 pixels. These equal a ratio of 1.71 for the Vulcan and 1.76 for the human. Sufficiently clear side and rear views are unfortunately not available for comparing the approximate circumference of the cranium, but it can be presumed that the Vulcan skull is similar in all dimensions to that of a human, and that their brain would likely be similar size (and thus, similar in proportion to their overall body mass) to that of a human. While brain-body ratio isn't a perfect estimator of intelligence this is certainly consistent with them being comparable to a human in intelligence (but don't let the Vulcans know, they'd surely be insulted.) Vulcan eyes are forward-facing. Binocular vision is unusual in prey species, but as we've established, Vulcans are herbivores. One possibility is that a wide field of vision is not necessary to protect from predators, which would suggest that there are no predators on Vulcan large enough to threaten a man, however the existence of the Le-Matya and the large creature that nearly slew a young Michael Burnham when she camped out in the Forge disproves this hypothesis. On Earth, the only herbivorous animals with forward-facing eyes are found among our primate relatives, who descend from an arboreal ancestor that required depth perception to brachiate. I suggest it is thus likely that Vulcan was once home to vast forests, in the trees of which a distant, pointy-eared ancestor once lived.

Vertebrae

Vulcans are vertebrates, shockingly.

All jokes aside, based on the position of Giant Spock's shoulders, it would appear that Vulcans have only five cervical vertebrae to humans' seven ^6. Fewer than seven vertebrae is uncommon for mammals on Earth-- the only mammals with more or fewer than seven vertebrae are manatees with six, two-toed sloths with five, and three-toed sloths with nine. All other mammals, from mice to gorillas, have seven. It's hard to say what the practical effects of this would be, as the number of bones in the neck don't necessarily tell us much about the flexibility of that neck.

Ribcage

I count seven ribs per side, of which the last two are floating ribs unattached to the sternum ^7. These extend rather further forward than the floating ribs of humans. Like earth's tetrapods, and unlike many fishes, Vulcans have only a single set of ribs. I think the Xiphoid process can be seen through a hole in Giant Spock's shirt. I suspect that Vulcans may have smaller lungs than humans do(an assertion backed up by the anatomical chart in the old Starfleet Medical Reference Manual, where the position of the Vulcan heart and stomach truncate the lungs slightly.) Vulcan is generally said to have a thinner atmosphere than Earth, so we can conclude that Vulcan lungs must be far more efficient than our own.

Hands

This is an interesting one. If you look closely at the bones of the Vulcan hand it appears that they are significantly different from those of a human. The most notable difference is that the Vulcan hand appears to have either an additional phalange, or else they have not one, but two metacarpals per finger-- I think the latter, because it looks like the joint would be about mid-palm on a human to me. ^8 The most likely result is that the Vulcan palm can, perhaps, be folded in the middle. This could potentially jive with our brachiation hypothesis from earlier. However it is worth noting that this adaptation seems to appear only on the right hand (on the audience's left in the image.) Most likely one hand or the other is simply the victim of an animation error, but which one it is, we cannot be absolutely certain of.

Unfortunately, glimpses of the remainder of the skeleton are fragmentary and hard to tell us much, though a generally close resemblance to human anatomy continues to be evident from what we see, which includes part of the left radius, the radius, ulna, and humeral trochlea of the right arm, the right shoulder, some three lumbar vertebrae, a bit of the ilium on both sides, and a glimpse of both knees. However we have sufficient diagnostic material to distinguish fossil remains of H. sapiens and V. eridani despite the otherwise extreme convergence of their physical traits.

The @daystrominstitute analysis of "The Broken Circle" is now live on Lemmy!

https://startrek.website/post/46502

#startrek #allstartrek #startrekstrangenewworlds #lemmy

I saw this rant/complaint over on Reddit, and it got me thinking a bit.

We know that at least on paper, Federation starships are insanely fast and agile. Data has stated that the Galaxy-class Enterprise was able to achieve Warp 9 from , and some ships, like the Nebula class, don't seem to use impulse engines at all, favouring the warp engine for sublight speed usage at all.

Despite that, we also know that impulse engines aren't simple thrusters, and are able to move the ship in a way not directly in line with the output thrust (Relics), and from the same episode, we also know that smaller ships, like the Jenolan, will still run rings around ships like the Enterprise, even though it is nearly a full century out of date.

However, from what the show itself portrays, the ships tend to be fairly slow and sluggish when in combat, sedately drifting along the battlefield, while weapons fire goes every which way. The most recent and active thing we've seen a big starship do is maybe the fighter run in Picard.

In my opinion, by trying to keep to the slow and seemingly logical expectations for starships to be slow, hulking metal structures that slowly fly around shooting each other, Star Trek ends up underselling what Federation starships are able to do. They would be more realistically portrayed flitting about the battlefield like dragonflies, instead of being like "real boats" today, that have more of a sense of mass.

It seems wildly unintuitive, but it would also help show Federation propulsion technology being more advanced than what they are now. Starships can instantly stop and reverse course, or move in ways that would be impossible with modern technology, and the show not showing ships capable of doing just that might be to its detriment.

This is the Daystrom Institute Episode Analysis thread for Strange New Worlds 2x01 The Broken Circle.

Now that we've had a few days to digest the content of the latest episode, this thread is a place to dig a little deeper.

The history of Starfleet uniforms is long and varied, and reaches back earlier than the dawn of the Federation itself. But despite a wide-ranging colorful history, each era of Starfleet uniforms can be placed into one of two categories: lots of colors (one for each department), or few colors (departments grouped into divisions). The department-specific approach was used for about 80 years, from the mid 2270s (Star Trek: The Motion Picture) through the mid-century mark of the 24th century, giving each department (Command, Helm, Navigation, Engineering, Communications, Security, Services, Sciences, and Medical) a unique color.

For the rest of Starfleet history, a simplified structure has been employed, grouping various departments into what Memory Alpha and others have deemed “divisions,” with a single color per division. Despite many tweaks in the color assignments, the divisions themselves have remained remarkably consistent across 60 years of production history (and some three centuries of in-universe history.)

I propose that uniform color reflects fundamental differences in the basic approaches of each department.

Sciences

The departments in the “Sciences Division” focus on analysis of primary data sources.

The biologist works directly from her data, the doctor works directly from his patient's symptoms and readings. They are inherently skeptical and conservative in their approaches, methodical, with a preference for slower work that dives very deep. They synthesize conclusions based directly on their immediate findings.

Their work is generally fairly focused on a specific area– in theory, complications won't swing in from left field. Doctors have it more complicated– their approach does resemble those used in the command division, to some degree (see below). But the inherent skepticism, as well as the scientific rigor of their work and their historical connection to the sciences keep them within this division.

During the 2150’s, characters such as T’Pol, Sato, Cutler and Jessica Wolff all wore “Sciences Blue” at various points. From the 2230s through the 2250s, science officers on ships like the Shenzhou, Archimedes, and Discovery wore “Sciences Silver”, while their counterparts on Constitution-class vessels such as the Enterprise wore “Sciences Blue”. The Constitution variants were subsequently rolled out fleetwide, in a slightly different shade of blue. Roughly a century later, a variety of characters including physicians, psychologists and scientists all once again wear “Sciences Blue.”

The sole major exception to the color triad occurs during the first half of the 23rd century. Both on the USS Kelvin in 2233, and on the Shenzhou and on the Discovery during the 2250s, medical officers are shown wearing white. It is possible this practice was halted not longer after the Federation-Klingon War, perhaps specifically to avoid giving hostile intruders such obvious targets.

This division include general science officers, physicians, psychologists, astrobiologists, xenoanthropologists, and a range of other scientific disciplines.

Operations

The departments in the “Operations Division” focus on practical application.

They take scientific findings with which they are very familiar and put them to use; they problem-solve, with a low threshold for acceptable results: if it works (safely), then it's good. Engineers use physical scientific principles to problem-solve, while security and tactical officers use social science and strategy principles.

Creative, out-of-the-box solutions are encouraged, and being able to think on your feet and solve the problem in front of you is critical. Their work is also generally fairly localized, allowing them to focus very specifically on the problem at hand, before moving on to the next one.

During the 2150’s, characters such as Tucker and Reed wore “Operations Red”. From the 2230s through the 2250s, engineers on ships like the Shenzhou, Archimedes, and Discovery wore “Operations Copper”, while their counterparts on Constitution-class vessels such as the Enterprise wore “Operations Red”. The Constitution variants were subsequently rolled out fleetwide, with a transitional variant seen in 2265 which adopted the full-color tunic style, but maintained a beige coloring reminiscent of the previous copper (see note). Roughly a century later, engineers, security officers and tactical officers all wear “Operations Gold.”

This division includes engineers, technicians, operations managers, security personnel, communications officers, tactical officers (though see below), and sometimes certain administrative personnel including yeomen.

Command

The departments in the “Command Division” are required to engage in complex analyses and decision making.

They take information from multiple sources simultaneously and rapidly synthesize comprehensive conclusions, while potentially having to pivot their focus on short notice, temporarily leaving one problem unsolved, efficiently multitasking.

During the 2150’s, characters such as Archer and Mayweather wore “Command Gold”. In 2233, command personnel aboard the USS Kelvin wore “Command Blue” in a full-color tunic that resembled the Constitution variants shown some twenty years later. Also in the 2230s, then-Lieutenant Georgiou wears the “blue jumpsuit” variant, which uses a different color triad; given the precedent established in 2257 (and in the 2370s), it is likely that the Kelvin variants coexisted alongside the “blue jumpsuit” variants — perhaps the Kelvin was the Enterprise of its day.

From the 2230s through the 2250s, command personnel on ships like the Shenzhou, Archimedes, and Discovery wore “Command Gold” in the “blue jumpsuit” variant, while their counterparts on Constitution-class vessels such as the Enterprise wore “Command Gold” of various shades in the “full color tunic” variant. The Constitution variants were subsequently rolled out fleetwide, with a green wraparound variant seemingly only available to captains. Roughly a century later, starship captains and space station commanders, executive officers and flight control personnel all wear “Command Red.”

Aboard starships, the members of the Command Division are well-established: captains, first officers and flight control officers. However, as we peek further into Starfleet, we find other departments represented there as well.

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The amount of #startrek content on my feed has expanded considerably since #lemmy became the new home to @daystrominstitute and @startrek.

Paths Not Taken

Deep Space Nine is replete with paths not taken, in terms of storylines. What if Jadzia really had died in “Change of Heart”? What if they had gone to Sigma Iotia II for the 30th anniversary episode instead of learning about the troubles with tribbles? What if Ro Laren, Sito Jaxa, or Thomas Riker had returned?

One path that was never really taken (and as far as I can tell, never seriously contemplated) is major political drama between the Starfleet and Bajoran crews on the station. Yes, Season 2 started with the extremely underrated Circle Trilogy, but that conflict was Far Away on Bajor (and inflamed by Cardassian influence). Beyond a few differences of opinion here and there, Kira and Sisko never seriously clash, which is a little odd, especially given how much grey area they were working in — a Bajoran-owned space station run by Starfleet officers? “We’re just here to administrate”? What does that even mean?

But there is one exception: “Dramatis Personae”.

Sorta.

The Valerian Situation May Have Been A Vaccine

See, “Dramatis Personae” shows this exact conflict of Starfleet vs Bajoran playing out… but under alien telepathic influence, dramatizing through lived experience the conflict that destroyed a civilization. It’s an interesting blend of real-world details being repurposed into the aliens’ script — the dynamics are the same, even though the particulars are different.

And so we do get a bit of a preview of what this conflict might look like — especially from Odo and Quark, who are unaffected. But, in all honesty, it does feel like a bit of a cheat, since it becomes clear at the end that no one was in control of themselves, whatsoever.

Now, I think this episode actually can be used to explain why we don’t see a real conflict break out on the station. After being released from the alien influence, Sisko and Kira (to say nothing of O’Brien, Jadzia, and Bashir) no doubt reviewed the logs, reports, and Odo’s account of what happened. They would have seen how quickly the situation unraveled. It would be a vivid reminder to them that they are holding this situation together purely by their goodwill and willingness to cooperate.

Rather than exacerbate existing tensions, the events of “Dramatis Personae” may have allowed the Starfleet and Bajoran crews to reap the benefits of the conflict without suffering the consequences. Thereafter, when minor conflicts would arise, they’d be seen in the light of the Valerian Situation, and addressed with that much more urgency to keep things from totally unraveling.

In this way, the Valerian Situation may have been a vaccine that inoculated the crew against destructive division going forward.

A Doylist Commentary

Though (in)famous among the Star Trek lore for its heavy serialization, DS9 should perhaps be equally (in)famous for its lack of planning around its serialization. There was no long-term arc, no long-term vision for the series. Except for a bit in the seventh season, there is no intentional foreshadowing — only post hoc foreshadowing that arises out of a choice to follow up on previous stories. The Dominion War was only planned to last six episodes — right up until it wasn’t. Julian Bashir’s genetic code was utterly normal — right up until it wasn’t. Jed Bartlet didn’t have a chronic illness, right up until Sorkin had the idea for Charlie and the President to be stuck in the residence watching daytime TV — oops, wrong franchise!

Likewise, in the late first season, the Prophets were probably not on the writers’ minds. Even on the (relatively rare) occasion that they decide to tell stories about the Bajorans during the first two seasons, the Prophets are very much a background fixture — a piece of cultural heritage, not active players in the drama. (Contrast that with later seasons when the Prophets begin to have an active influence — everything from “Accession” to “Prophet Motive” to “Sacrifice of Angels” and so on.)

But in hindsight, as I will lay out below, the events of “Dramatis Personae” could easily have been caused by the Prophets, rather than by some one-off alien species from the Gamma Quadrant.

Now, to be frank, I don’t think the writers had decided (at that point) what they wanted to do with the Prophets. It’s only in the context of the series overall that it might seem “in character” for the Prophets to do something like this. At the time, only 17 episodes in, the Prophets were still pretty uncharacterized, and what we had seen of them so far pointed more toward a hands-off approach.

But if they had decided earlier on that the Prophets were going to be active players in the drama of the series, this episode — with only a few minor modifications — could have been used to lay the groundwork for that.

Being so early in the series, they probably would have opted for something a bit more mysterious, a bit more Twilight Zone. Something like this:

An Alternate Story

The Klingon ship returns from the Gamma Quadrant, with everyone aboard comatose from personal combat injuries, save one, who beams to Ops before promptly collapsing into a coma himself. O’Brien detects that the ship is about to explode, but manages to beam out the warp core just in time for it to spectacularly explode, some distance away from the station. The episode continues on unaltered from there.

Then, instead of finding the energy spheres on a distant world that they identify as the former homeworld of the Saltah’na, the Klingons find the energy spheres on Idran, near the far mouth of the wormhole. They aren’t able to identify the civilization of origin, but Odo’s ear perk up when he hears them describe the spheres as being “hour-glass-shaped”. Cut to a scene of Odo standing in the Bajoran temple, contemplating an Orb. He shares this revelation with no one.

The rest of the episode continues unchanged, until the last scene. Kira has her heart-to-heart apology with Sisko, and Sisko teases her about letting the mutiny slide “this time”. She mentions that the Klingons have all recovered and are on their way home to recuperate, and then heads back out to Ops as Odo enters. He is very unneasy and explains that he has something he needs to share with Sisko, something very delicate and potentially inflammatory. Sisko gently tells him to go on.

ODO: “Sir, in reviewing the Klingons’ logs, I discovered an… alarming coincidence. As you know, the Klingons discovered the telepathic energy matrix on an abandoned planet on the other side of the wormhole.”
SISKO: “Yes, in the Idran system.”
ODO: “That is correct. What I did not put in my official report… is that the Klingon science officer described the devices they discovered as being ‘hour-glass-shaped.’”
camera on Sisko’s face as he reacts
ODO: “As you have experienced first hand, Bajoran orbs do have telepathic capabilities…”
SISKO: “And Idran is not much farther away from the wormhole than Bajor is. Which means, it’s possible that this entire affair was somehow caused by the aliens who live in the wormhole.”
ODO: “You can see why I said this was potentially inflammatory. The Orbs may be instruments of alien influence, used for nefarious purposes.”
SISKO: turns to look off into the distance, maybe out the window “I’m not so sure about that. Bajoran history is replete with personal accounts of Orb encounters that were revelatory, life-changing, and overwhelmingly for the better.” turns to look back at Odo, looking him in the eye “And my own experience with an Orb suggested nothing nefarious.”
ODO: still skeptical “But you don’t deny that the Orbs may be influencing people and events.”
SISKO: starts to speak, but pauses. He comes around to the other side of the desk, to stand next to Odo, and look out at Ops — at Kira specifically. “Maybe. But in this case, perhaps they helped us out.”
Odo looks out at Kira as well, and then they both look at the Starfleet and Bajoran crews working together — O’Brien with his Bajoran technicians, Kira planning duty rosters with Dax… every team in Ops integrated with Starfleeters and Bajorans alike.
Sisko and Odo share a look as we fade out.

If they had done this, it would have laid the groundwork for any number of other stories throughout the series. It would have heightened Sisko’s arc as a skeptic disbeliever turned Emissary. And, combined with “Duet” and “In The Hands Of The Prophets”, would have made for an informal “three-part season finale” that recapitulates the main ideas of the First Season, which I think would be pretty awesome.

[continued below]

In my TNG season 1 rewatch, I finally got to the season finale, "The Neutral Zone." Though best known for Picard's utopian declarations to the cryogenically frozen people from the 90s about the post-scarcity future, it also centers on a tense confrontation with the Romulans. I noticed many parallels with the setup of the Discovery premier, "The Vulcan Hello" In both, our heroes confront a foe that has not been heard from in many years -- the Klingons for Discovery and the Romulans for "Neutral Zone." In both, they are befuddled by a cloaking device. And in both, there is a dispute about how to respond to the situation -- Burnham and Worf both insist that they must fire first or risk annihilation, and both are drawing on the experience of their parents being killed by the respective species. And I suspect that this parallel is intentional on the part of the writers, because of the crucial difference -- Worf is 100% wrong about the need to fire first, while the verdict is much more ambiguous for Burnhan. She agrees that she was wrong to attempt mutiny, but was she wrong to try a preemptive attack under the circumstances? We never know for sure, and even she never directly repents of her desire to strike first. By creating a parallel with a well-known TNG episode and then inserting a crucial difference, the writers are sending the signal that we are definitely not in the utopian TNG era.

But what do you think?

When doing some digging about the nature of Bajoran orbs I found an interesting piece of unused dialogue spoken by Bashir in the episode 'Accession' when discussing the neurotransmitter psilosynine:

"It's a neurotransmitter involved in psychic phenomenon [sic]. We all have a little of it, but people who've been exposed to things like... Vulcan mind melds... the Bajoran orbs, are often left with more."

This draws on canon information from TNG stating that psilosynine is chemical used in Betazoid telepathy- which is among the more powerful versions we have been shown. Since the Orb's increase the amount of this chemical in the brain it may convey telepathic ability.

We know that telepathic ability can be granted in this way from T'pol and Tucker's experiences. After melding they experienced a profound psychic link far beyond what a human should be able to experience. But as Bashir notes both mind melds and the orbs increase psilosynine.

Another interesting tid bit is the Bajoran clergy's annoying habit of grabbing ears to read one's 'Pagh'. However some, like Opaka, were able to gain uncanny insight into those they touched. While this might all be a strong example of good research and cold reading Bajoran spirituality touches on enough metaphysical (in a very literal sense) areas that we can keep an open mind.

Given that the clergy keep the closest presence to the orbs and consult them often it is likely they have a far higher psiloslynine count than most. If Bajorans have a psychic potential then then the clerics are the most likely to express it.

Further evidence for this is the Sidau village from 'The Storyteller' Bajorans born and raised in the presence of even an Orb fragment develop powerful psychic abilities together including telekinesis and energy manipulation.

Its possible then that Bajorans are touch telephaths- when their brains are sufficiently stimulated- such as by the orbs. This explains how they are able to form such insights not to mention their prediliction for prophecy. Whatever connection the Prophets, the wormhole and the Bajorans have it is clearly a deep one- influence their culture for tens of thousands of years. Is this enough time for psychic potential to evolve? Hard to say but given that spatial phenomena can unlock telepathic potential in humans- such as with Gary Mitchell and Elizabeth Dehner its not outside the scope of possibility that the same could happen to Bajorans.

If the unlocking of Bajoran potential continues then this may form the basis of the link between the Bajorans and the Prophets. If the Bajorans continue to evolve into psychically powerful beings beyond space and time then they may indeed become their own gods.

In recent years, I have been surprised to find one part of DS9 that keeps on getting better with age: the Ferengi. As vehicle of social commentary, they go where Trek never went before.

Today, I want to focus on Ferengi society being used as an indictment of what we might call "patriarchal masculinity" (as in, expectations that a patriarchal society has about what masculinity is and how its men should embody it), specifically, by contrasting how Quark and Rom react to their father’s perceived shortcomings.

What do we know about Keldar?

Quark idolizes him as the traditional head of the household. He recalls Keldar’s exasperation and gloom with respect to his wife, Ishka — “Quark, I don’t know what I’m going to do about that female!” Quark acknowledges that Keldar was successful enough in business, but feels that he could have been much more so, if not for Ishka’s troublesome behavior. In short, he recognizes his father’s shortcomings, but blames his mother for them.

Rom, in contrast, sees their father in more mundane terms. Unlike Quark, who left home right away, Rom stayed for years and, as an adult, perceived Keldar’s lack of business acumen. “He couldn’t hold on to latinum if you sewed it into his pants!”

Ishka speaks lovingly of her deceased husband, but does little to hide her belief that he did not have the “lobes” for business. If memory serves, she once privately remarked to Quark that Rom had inherited his father’s lobes, referring to his poor business skills (though I may be recalling that incorrectly).

So, it appears that Keldar was lacking in terms of that which makes someone a “real Ferengi.”

Let’s consider his sons.

Rom follows in his father’s footsteps, trying to be a successful businessman, for many years, with apparently just as little success. It’s only after watching his son join Starfleet and forming the union (at O’Brien’s encouragement) that he changes, seeking his own path outside of Ferengi culture and its expectations.

Rom witnesses his father’s suffering and himself suffers for decades for not living up to Ferengi standards and eventually responds to that suffering by leaving the game altogether (until he comes back to reform it— a story for another time).

Quark, in contrast, witnesses his father’s suffering, and beyond being ashamed of it, does everything he can to avoid it— both by leaving home as quickly as possible, and by cultivating what we might call “hyperferengity” in himself— an unparalleled focus on being a “true Ferengi”, beyond the shadow of anyone’s doubt. He responds to his father’s suffering by doing everything he can to avoid the shortcomings that caused it.

Quark sees an unfair game and responds by obsessing over winning; Rom sees an unfair game and eventually leaves to play something more fair.

Rom’s suffering is obvious in the early seasons of Deep Space Nine. Mocked and despised by a brother who likely sees him as the embodiment of their father’s shame, his own natural talents and interests squelched by a system that has no use for them.

But I think the costs that Quark pays are more subtle. He is presented opportunities for growth— Pel, the union, the post-Zek New Economy— and he either agonizes over accepting them, or dismisses them out of hand. This culminates in his declaration of the bar as the “last outpost of what made Ferenginar great”— a steadfast and unrelenting commitment to an idealized version of the past, with a refusal to engage with the future. (Make Ferenginar great again, anyone?) I might not describe any of this as a “cost,” except that I believe that Quark is doing it all basically as a reaction to his father (or more specifically, his shame for having such a father). He is driven by his own pathos more than anything else. He is not his own man: he is driven by fear— fears that his brother could overcome, but not he.

Now, Ferengi business acumen is often coded as masculinity— “he has the lobes for business”, “you wouldn’t have the lobes to do something so gutsy!”, “he has the tiny lobes of a female!” (not direct quotes, but those are the sentiments). Here, I have coined the term "hyperferengity" in the same vein as "hypermasculinity."

So, take the informal psychoanalysis above, and replace all the references to business acumen with references to masculinity, and we find an allegory for how societal expectations of masculinity can end up hurting everyone— both those who “pass the test” and those who fail— and how the trauma of one generation gets passed down, in manners subtle and gross, on to the next.