Captain Kirk Deals with a Romulan Spy

Apply directly to the forehead! 
 

Newton Place Knicknacks

I didn't live in Newton Place for long, but it's where I watched the last season or so of Star Trek: Deep Space Nine. I remember hardly anything about the layout of the apartment, and I have very few photos of my time there. This is one of them. 
 

What Was Chekov's Greatest Feat?

In "The Best of Both Worlds," the USS Enterprise-D arrives too late to participate in the Battle of Wolf 359. Commander Riker, Commander Shelby, and the rest of the bridge crew see the wreckage of 39 Starfleet vessels floating in space. 

"The Tolstoy...the Kyushu...the Melbourne," Shelby intones mournfully as wreckage drifts across the Enterprise viewscreen. 

The Tolstoy Shelby mentions was originally intended to be the USS Chekhov or Chekov, according to different sources. Though you never see it close enough to distinguish, the modelmakers settled the question by spelling the Springfield-class ship miniature's name as Chekov. At the last moment, though, the showrunners realized it was a pretty somber event for the name-dropping of original series character Pavel Chekov, so Shelby's dialogue references the Tolstoy instead. 

Still, this leaves continuity nerds with an interesting issue to ponder: Because the USS Chekov exists canonically (it was seen on screen in an episode, the miniature has Chekov's name on it, and it appears the majority of the creatives who worked on the episode intended for the ship to be named after Pavel Chekov). What, then, did Pavel Chekov do during his career or in his civilian life to deserve this rare honour? There is no USS Kirk, USS Spock, or USS Scott. Chekov may be a legend by association, and he played a role in saving Earth and the Federation more than once, but surely Starfleet would recognize his superior officers before Chekov himself. 

Indeed, whether or not Chekov ever rose above the rank of commander is ambiguous. The last time we see him on screen, in the opening scenes of Star Trek: Generations, Chekov wears a commander's rank, though a reporter calls him "Captain Chekov." There are two ways to take this: the reporter mistook Chekov's rank, or knew that Chekov had just been promoted or was about to be promoted, but hadn't changed his rank insignia yet. I like to imagine Chekov had the right stuff to be captain one day, so I assume the latter. Indeed, some behind-the-scenes materials assert Chekov was supposed to be a captain in Generations, but that they couldn't find any more of the metal captain rank pins to affix to his uniform. 

For the purposes of this question, I'm going to assume that Chekov did indeed reach the rank of captain and that he had adventures of his own after leaving the Enterprise-A in 2293. 

We hear nothing at all about Chekov until the third season finale of Star Trek: Picard, set in the year 2402. As that finale opens, we hear the voice of President of the Federation, Anton Chekov (played by original Chekov actor Walter Koenig), quoting his father, Pavel, that "hope is never lost" even as he warns everyone to stay away from Earth, as it's under attack by the Borg. 

Pavel Chekov never said "Hope is never lost" in any of his onscreen appearances, though he might have said it "offscreen" at any time during his career, either as a fresh young ensign or a veteran captain or admiral. (Chekov jokingly refers to himself as an admiral during the hospital chase scene in Star Trek IV: The Voyage Home.) Even so, his son Anton uses the phrase in a way that suggests many of the people in his (very large) audience will understand the reference. 

I propose that sometime after 2293, Pavel Chekov--Captain Chekov of the Federation Starship Unrevealed at This Point in Time--led his crew on a historic mission with desperate stakes and impossible odds. Maybe he saved an entire civilization from extinction; perhaps he inspired the Federation with a brave act of sacrifice; maybe he wrote a great novel that included the words quoted by his son. 

We'll likely never know. I would be shocked if Chekov is ever seen again in visual media; Koenig's voiceover role in Picard was a surprising and very welcome gift, but I'm sure that's the last we've heard of the character (and even then it was an indirect reference). 

And yet, despite poor Walter Koenig getting less accumulated screen time or character development than the rest of the original series main actors, his character definitely leaves a lasting legacy in his universe, one that rivals those of even Kirk and Spock (as measured by the in-universe impact of those legacies). 

Nice work, Pavel. We'll probably never learn what you did, but you clearly made a difference to the people of your corner of the multiverse. 

Chekov's Gun

The sun blazed over San Francisco, its warmth transforming the Bay into a summer playground. Blooms quivered in the breeze. Sparrows and robins darted to and fro above the vast public courtyard of Starfleet Academy, where hundreds of students, flush with youth and optimism, slowed just a little in their rush from class to class to enjoy the sunshine. 

It was a beautiful day for a breakup. 

“I’m leaving, Pavel, because I can’t bring myself to carry a phaser,” Irina said. Even after two years at the Academy, she couldn’t completely hide her Novgorod accent. She clutched a data tablet to her chest like a shield. 

“Hardly anyone in Starfleet carries a phaser,” Pavel Chekov said, his own accent thickening as his stress rose. “Statistically, less than one in 10,000 Starfleet recruits are ever assigned a phaser, and even then only temporarily, and even then some tiny fraction of that tiny group ever have to draw it, much less use it—“ 

Irina sighed and waved Chekov’s statistics away. “I’m just not willing to take the chance. I want to study life, not end it.” 

Chekov’s temper flared for a second. He wanted to protest. He wanted to tell her that he was going to serve as a navigator or science officer, that he’d spend his life exploring and discovering. 

But Irina knew all that. She wasn’t condemning him. She wasn’t even condemning Starfleet. She simply knew herself and her boundaries too well. 

She looked at him with sad eyes. He wanted to tell her that they could still have a life together. He began to reach for her hand. 

And then Irina Galliulin said the last words he’d hear from her for years to come: 

“I’m going to reconnect with Doctor Sevrin,” she said, “I’m going to become One.” 

Chekov’s face flushed. Oneness was superstition, not science. Or maybe it was just some kind of alien telepathic connection he didn’t understand. At just 032, Chekov’s esper rating was well below average, so low that some Federation telepaths couldn’t even register his presence, something he’d been gently teased about at the Academy. 

So he said nothing, not just because Irina’s face told him how she felt and how much she regretted hurting him, but because he knew the fault lay not in the stars, but in himself. Besides, Doctor Sevrin wasn’t hurting anyone. Oneness was just a different way of looking at life, just Federation pacifism taken to its logical extreme. 

He couldn’t stand her pity, and logic told him he had no good arguments to use against the woman he loved. 

One day she’ll see it was pointless to worry, he thought. But by then, they’d have moved on. 

“I understand, rodnaya,” he said. “I love you. I guess I’ll see you around.” 

He left her standing in the summer sun, the breeze tugging at her long brown hair. Heedless, a clutch of nearby students laughed at some shared joke.

TWO YEARS LATER

It was still a bit hard for Chekov to believe he was sitting on the bridge of the USS Enterprise—the same Enterprise once captained by the legendary Robert April, then Christopher Pike, and now James T. Kirk, whose own reputation was already, if not legendary, than at least widely renowned. He felt like the luckiest Academy graduate in history. 

“How’s the new kid?” Kirk murmured a couple of meters behind him—just loud enough for Chekov and his friend Sulu, seated next to him at the Helm station, to hear. Loud enough for everyone on the bridge, really. Kirk’s voice carried weight even in the quiet.

“His performance is quite satisfactory,” answered Spock. Chekov was glad his back was to the two senior officers. ‘Quite satisfactory,’ was high praise from the taciturn Vulcan, and Chekov could feel himself blushing with pleasure. He could feel Sulu glancing over at him, doubtless to shoot some kind of gentle, teasing smirk his way, so Chekov kept his gaze face-forward and diligently focused on his controls. 

“I don’t believe he’s had any landing party experience yet,” Kirk said.  

“Indeed not,” Spock replied. 

“Take him down with you when we get to Ivor Prime,” Kirk said. “He’s wearing a gold shirt, but he still looks a shade green to me.” 

“Green is a perfectly pleasant shade, Captain.” 

“Nonetheless,” Kirk said. 

“Nonetheless,” Spock acknowledged. 

TWO WEEKS LATER

Chekov arrived in the transporter room at 05:45, a tricorder slung over his shoulder, fifteen minutes before beamdown. Chief Kyle smiled, turned to the wall behind the transporter console, and retrieved a phaser from a hidden compartment, handing it to Chekov. 

“There you go. Be careful down there.” 

Chekov looked at the phaser dubiously for a moment before securing it on his hip. 

“Is this really necessary?” he said, gesturing at the phaser. 

Kyle shrugged. “Just precautionary. You never know when an alien life form will mistake you for lunch.” 

Spock entered the transporter room at that moment, briskly retrieving a phaser of his own from the wall and climbing up onto the transporter platform. Chekov hurried to join him. 

“Energize,” Spock said. Kyle nodded, pushed three levers forward on the transporter console, and Spock and Chekov dissolved into bright, flaring columns of sparkling light. 

A moment later, their bodies reformed on Ivor Prime. They found themselves standing in the foothills of a massive mountain range, with a dense jungle some about a kilometer distant. The sky was purple and cloudless, and the wind caused an eerie, alien howl to echo through the valley. 

“Mr. Chekov, please collect data in the foothills using the standard sampling protocols,” Spock said, consulting his tricorder. “I will collect samples from the jungle. Tricorder readings indicate no dangerous fauna, but exercise caution regardless. Remember your training, and stay within visual range.” 

“Aye, sir,” Chekov said. He walked through long bronze grass into the foothills, sampling as he went, scanning the dozens of different species of lichens, grasses, flowering plants, insects, fungi, xenoglyphs, perimaterna, mathemagics. He found nothing terribly unusual, and more importantly, nothing that would disqualify Ivor Prime as a destination for colonists. Chekov noted, with some bemusement, that the bronze grass had left some kind of metallic-seeming residue on his boots and pants, right up to the knee. He tried to brush it away, succeeding only in getting the residue all over his hands. 

But then a shadow passed over him, and Chekov looked up to see something riding the breeze high overhead. It resembled a box kite, much like one he’d flown in Sevastopol many years ago. He reached for his tricorder to scan the apparition, but by the time he got the instrument into position, whatever he’d seen had disappeared into the clouds. Chekov shrugged the distraction aside and turned back to his sampling routine. 

“Sampling complete,” the tricorder said some time later; Chekov had collected enough data to meet Spock’s requirements for this sector of the valley. Chekov shut down the tricorder, slung it back over his shoulder, and made his way toward the point where he and Spock had beamed down. 

Chekov’s communicator beeped twice. 

“Mister Chekov, stand by to beam up,” Lieutenant Uhura said in a voice that carried carefully controlled urgency. 

“Acknowledged,” Chekov said. He held still, anticipating the tug of the annular confinement beam that preceded transportation, but seconds passed and nothing happened. 

“Ah, Enterprise? I’m still down here . . .” 

“Chekov, we’re having trouble locking on to your signal,” Chief Kyle broke in. “Can you move out into the open?”

Chekov was taken aback. “Chief, I’m in the middle of a field . . .” 

Before Kyle could say anything more, a new voice came over his comms channel: Captain Kirk himself. 

“Mister Chekov, please—”  Kirk said, but that was all. The captain’s words were followed by a harsh blast of static and an electronic squeal that made Chekov’s ears ring. He snapped the communicator closed, grimacing.

Irrationally, Chekov looked to the skies for any sign of the ship, but of course at this distance he’d likely see nothing more than a pinprick of light, even assuming that Enterprise was on this side of the planet. 

He had to find Commander Spock. The last he’d seen him, Spock was scanning the edge of the jungle, perhaps a couple of kilometres distant. He tried contacting Spock via communicator, but whatever was had happened to shipboard communications was affecting comms on the planet, too. 

Chekov holstered his communicator and opened up his tricorder. To his surprise, it worked. He started scanning for Vulcan life forms, and the tricorder picked up Spock immediately, not far away but hidden from view by the jungle foliage. 

“Mr. Spock! I’m headed your way,” Chekov called as he jogged toward the trees, following the tricorder’s signal. There was no answer, which worried Chekov a little—Spock would certainly have heard his call. 

Chekov reached the edge of the jungle and made his way through the lush foliage, shouldering it aside as the tricorder led him closer to Spock’s position. 

“Mr. Spock?” 

Still no answer, even though his tricorder indicated he was well within earshot of the Vulcan life signs. Suddenly Chekov wished he had a medical tricorder; what if Spock was somehow incapacitated? Reluctantly, Chekov took his phaser in hand. He really didn’t believe any threats were likely—preliminary scans ruled out aggressive flora or fauna, despite Chief Kyle’s joke—but the communications blackout was unusual enough to warrant extra caution. 

The foliage was thinning out; he was approaching a small clearing. Chekov peered into the clearing, keeping himself hidden behind a dense, topiary-like bush with vibrant, needle-like leaves. 

Spock lay prone at the far edge of the clearing. He was surrounded by a half-dozen gelatinous masses—quivering jellies that had wrapped thick pseudopods around Spock’s body. 

This was no native life form. Chekov could see through their transparent bodies, and within the creatures there were clearly artificial implants of some kind. 

Spock screamed in agony. 

“Get back!” Chekov ordered. “Release him!” 

The creatures didn’t respond; at first he thought they might be too alien for the universal translator to function, but these beings didn’t seem aware of his presence at all. Chekov watched in horror as two of the creatures extended new pseudopods from their bodies and pushed them into Spock’s ears and nostrils. Spock’s entire body seized and his eyes snapped open—but they were blank, unseeing. Spock screamed again. 

“Stop what you are doing immediately, or I will stun you,” Chekov said. Again, there was no response, no indication that the creatures even knew he was there. Reluctantly, Chekov ensured his phaser was set on stun, took aim at the nearest alien, and fired. A blue beam of light flashed through the being’s mass, but the thing only quivered slightly in response. The pseudopods continued to pulse, and Spock’s thrashing worsened. 

Chekov adjusted his phaser, tuning it to heavy stun. He fired again. No effect. 

Chekov realized his heart was pounding and he was covered in a cold sweat. In desperation, he kicked the alien he’d shot, but the being just quivered a little from the impact. While it looked delicate, the being’s clear dermis was pliable and very strong. Neon-bright organs of unknown purpose pulsed within. 

His hands were shaking as he switched the phaser to its kill setting. He gripped the weapon in two hands and took a deep breath to steady himself. He fired. 

Chekov’s gun spat a glowing, crimson lance of phased particles into the heart of the alien blob. It vanished, atomized in a flash of searing light. 

The other creatures stirred, their amoeba-like masses shifting. The mechanical components in their jellied bodies rotated and blinked, but even now the aliens seemed unaware of Chekov’s killing presence. 

“Please,” Chekov said, his eyes welling. He fired again. And again. Until they were all gone, reduced to elementary particles, wafting away on the gentle breeze. 

Chekov turned away for a moment, unable to witness the carnage, even though the phaser had left no bodies behind. It took an effort of will to look back and check on Spock. The science officer was unconscious, but seemingly at rest. Chekov kneeled next to him, took at pulse, and breathed a little easier. 

“Enterprise, if you can hear me, two to beam up. Mr. Spock is injured. Emergency.” 

No response. All Chekov could do was make Spock a little more comfortable and keep watch. And worry about the ship’s fate. 

Night came, and the jungle, once silent, began to quietly sing with life. Chekov leaned against a tree and hugged his knees to himself, still clutching the phaser. 

He wondered what Irina would say about this. He wondered if she could ever understand. 

Spock moaned in the night more than once. It felt strange to offer typically human words of comfort to a Vulcan, so instead Chekov began by reporting the incident, following up with updates on their current status on the hour. Even if Spock couldn’t hear him, Chekov thought the commander would probably appreciate his approach. 

Just as the morning light crept over the clearing, their communicators chirped. Chekov answered. 

“Enterprise, Chekov here. Mr. Spock is incapacitated and needs medical attention. Please beam him up immediately.” 

“Understood, Chekov,” said a voice Chekov didn’t recognize. A second later, Spock dissolved into transporter particles. 

“Mr. Chekov, we’re still having trouble locking on to you. We’ll send down a shuttle. Stand by; should be about twenty minutes.” 

“Thank you, Enterprise,” Chekov said. 

As promised, the boxy Copernicus glided into view a short time later, gently touching down in the clearing. The port hatch opened to reveal Lieutenant Uhura, gesturing him inside. “All aboard, Pavel!” 

Chekov clambered into the shuttle, taking the co-pilot seat. 

“Thanks for the ride,” Chekov said. 

“Mister Spock is all right,” Uhura said as the hatch closed behind Chekov. “Doctor McCoy will fill you in; I’m taking you straight to him.” 

“I’m all right,” Chekov said. 

“Spock’s orders. He seems concerned that you may have suffered some trauma. Are you okay? What happened to your uniform?” 

Chekov had forgotten about the bronze pollen or dander covering his boots and pants, but that seemed so trivial now.

“I had to kill six aliens.” 

He felt Uhura’s hand on his shoulder. 

“I’m so sorry, Pavel. I know you wouldn’t have done that unless it was absolutely necessary.” 

Chekov nodded. Uhura’s touch and her words helped a little. But only a little. 

He fell asleep before they left the atmosphere. 

LATER

Chekov awoke in sickbay. Dr. McCoy was there, checking his vitals. 

“How are you feeling, Ensign?” 

Chekov rose to a sitting position. 

“I’m fine, Doctor. I was just up all night. What happened up here? We couldn’t contact the ship . . .” 

“Mmm hmm. Stay right there, Mister Chekov. Mister Spock asked me to inform him when you’re awake. Once he’s filled you in, you and I are going to set up some appointments, all right?” 

“Yes sir,” Chekov said, hiding his reluctance with little success. “But there’s really nothing wrong with me . . . it was Spock who was injured.” 

“And he’s all sorted out, thanks to you, and next we’re going to sort you out. Just relax for a few minutes, Chekov.” 

McCoy retreated to his office. A moment later, Spock arrived. 

“Ensign Chekov. At 1100 hours ship’s time yesterday, the Enterprise was approached by an alien vessel of unknown provenance. The Enterprise attempted to beam us aboard as a precautionary measure, but apparently something about the native flora interferes with transporter signals.”

“The bronze pollen on my trousers,” Chekov said. 

“Correct. Meanwhile, the aliens attacked, incapacitating nearly 80 percent of with a powerful psionic assault. Doctor McCoy later determined that crew members with high esper ratings were vulnerable to the psionic energy; accordingly, those with low ratings were unaffected. Fortunately, enough crew were left to fend off the attack and destroy the enemy.”

“My esper rating . . . it’s only 032,” Chekov said. 

“Indeed. My esper rating, on the other hand, was evidently strong enough to draw an alien landing party in search of me. McCoy believes that they were attempting to . . . feed from my psychic reservoirs when you intervened. Your lack of any latent esper abilities rendered you invulnerable, and indeed undetectable, to the alien life forms. In short, Ensign, you saved my life, and I am grateful. I have entered a commendation into your record.” 

“I’m glad I was able to help, sir,” Chekov said, bewildered by conflicting emotions.

“This is the first time you have taken a life.” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Ensign Chekov, as a Vulcan, I am ill-suited to offering condolences. However, I hope it will be some comfort that the situation presented you with no choice, and the record reflects that. Furthermore, you preserved Starfleet’s investment in a valuable officer. 

“We do not celebrate killing, but as Starfleet officers we are sometimes called upon to defend our ship, our colleagues, and others. Doctor McCoy will help you reconcile your emotional responses to this incident.” 

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.” 

Spock nodded and left. 

*    *    *

That night, as Chekov lay in his bunk, his door chimed. 

“Come,” he said. 

Captain Kirk appeared in the doorway. Chekov shot out of bed. 

“Captain!” 

“At ease, Ensign. I’m just checking in.” 

“Ah, thank you, sir.” 

“Mister Chekov, every once in a while, it’s my unpleasant duty to reach out to officers who have found it necessary to use force to protect themselves or others. I want you to understand that I know what you’re going through.” 

“Thank you, sir. I knew that something like this was a possibility, but I never really believed . . . it could happen to me.”

Captain Kirk put a hand on Chekov’s shoulder and looked him directly in the eye. 

“Pavel, when you kill a living thing, you take all that they are, all that they were, all that they could have been. Every death like that is a tragedy, even when it’s that of an enemy. It’s why cultures almost universally condemn killing. 

“But the universe is a dangerous place, and unfortunately, there will always be those who kill wantonly or without purpose. We don’t know yet why these particular aliens attacked us. Perhaps, from their point of view, their actions were necessary. But we do not recognize a moral imperative to surrender our lives to those who would take it.

“You saved an officer and a friend, Mister Chekov. I’m proud to have you on my crew. You make sure to keep every appointment with Doctor McCoy, all right? He’s a little crusty around the edges, but his counsel is wise.” 

“I will, sir. Thank you. It’s just . . .” 

Kirk waited. 

“My girlfriend at Starfleet Academy. She dropped out because she couldn’t risk the possibility she’d be involved in a situation . . . well, a situation like mine.” 

Kirk nodded. “A committed pacifist. An honourable choice.” 

“Yes, sir, I agree. The relationship ended, but I still care for her, and I know that she’ll eventually hear about what I did.” 

“Pavel, I don’t know this young woman, but if she chose you for a partner, even if it’s over, I imagine she has common sense and empathy. Get in touch with her. If not face to face, send her a subspace transmission. Maybe she can help you heal.” 

Chekov nodded. “Thank you, sir. I appreciate you coming to see me.” 

Kirk patted him on the shoulder and left. 

Chekov took the seat at his desk. He stared at his personal console, thumb poised close to its activation switch. The captain was right—of all people, Irina would understand Chekov’s torment. 

But could she forgive what he’d done? 

He stared at the blank screen for a long time. And then turned away, turned off the lights, and retreated into darkness. 

 

Captain Kirk of Earth-2022

AI art is getting wackier/scarier/more amazing by the day, it seems. My prompt for this was "Captain Kirk goes over Niagara Falls in a barrel, oil painting in the style of DaVinci." This result is not at all what I had in mind, and yet it's somehow arresting. (Interpret that adjective however you see fit.) Made with Stable Diffusion's DreamStudio. 
 

Transporter Accident

Not quite sure where the AI was going with this one. 
 

Kirk Meets Welles

 

Scotty Finds The Daily Grind

"Cap'n, do ye know how the doctor takes his coffee?"

Here we have The Daily Grind, a 28mm-scale model from Marvel's Crisis Protocol game. I painted it in tones of brown and green, partly as a knockoff of Starbucks, partly because, well, coffee is brown, and I like mint chocolate chip frappuccinos, hence the green. 
 

Star Trek V: The Flimsy Frontier

Just before the climax of William Shatner's Star Trek V: The Final Frontier, Captain James T. Kirk (Shatner again) asks a powerful noncorporeal being "What does god need with a starship?" When I attended the sneak preview in Edmonton back in 1989, the line got a good laugh; a deserved laugh, I think, thanks to Shatner's delivery and the point the line arrives in the story. It's a line that captures Kirk's justified skepticism, a line in keeping with the man's characterization through nearly 25 years of history to that point. On the other hand, the line is also a bit campy, appearing as it does in the rather ridiculous circumstances of this widely-panned Trek; maybe that's the true reason my audience laughed. Still, the original television series often veered into camp, and that never stopped it from asking insightful questions about the human condition. "Let That Be Your Last Battlefield," a painfully on-the-nose allegory about the tragedy of racism from Star Trek's third season, had its own share of camp--and yet, even today, the episode's message resonates despite the limitations of the production. Can the same be said for Star Trek V, over thirty years since its premiere? 

A Reach That Exceeded Its Grasp

Prior to the production of Star Trek V, Shatner's longtime costar Leonard Nimoy (who plays Kirk's old friend and first officer Spock), directed Star Trek III and IV; both were successful, and IV in particular was a true critical and box office hit. Shatner's contract included a clause guaranteeing him the chance to direct should that privilege be granted to Nimoy, so the fifth Star Trek film was destined to be directed by its primary star. Shatner must have felt intense pressure to craft a film even more successful than IV, and the story he conceived was ambitious enough to to the trick: Captain Kirk would take his ship, the Enterprise, to the centre of the galaxy in a search for the Divine itself. 

With the right screenplay and direction, such a story could have been quite interesting. Unfortunately, the screenplay is uneven; there are a couple of bright spots and a few moments of cringe, while the rest is simply bland. Shatner's direction is workmanlike and nowhere near the level of skill and creativity needed to match the scope of his intended story. Worse yet, for the first time in the Trek film series, the production design and special effects are seriously below par, enough to seriously distract from a story that absolutely demanded striking visuals. Even the normally excellent main cast perform below their true capabilities here; only guest player Laurence Luckinbill, playing Spock's half-brother Sybok, seems to be having any fun in this picture. In fact, the only aspect of this production that could reasonably be called "good" is the superb score by Jerry Goldsmith, a score that surely deserves a far better film. 

Star Trek V begins with a reasonably effective cold opening. A cloaked man on horseback gallops across a barren world and encounters an ancient farmer toiling at the unforgiving land. The rider promises the farmer an end to pain, and indeed he seems to lift the farmer's cares away with a telepathic touch. The rider laughs in delight at the farmer's tears of joy, and his hood falls back, revealing pointed Vulcan ears. "A laughing Vulcan?" gasps the farmer in wonder, for in the world of Star Trek, Vulcans are renowned for their suppression of emotion. Here we cut to the opening credit sequence, and after that we transition to Captain Kirk climbing the face of El Capitan in Yosemite National Park. It turns out that several members of the Enterprise crew are on Earth for shore leave; Kirk, Spock, and Doctor McCoy are camping in the park. In more capable hands, it might have been refreshing to see our heroes relaxing, but instead we're subjected to the kind of "light comedy" that produces groans instead of guffaws; there are fart jokes, misunderstandings of pop culture references, and a badly-executed moment of peril that's impossible to take seriously for two reasons: truly terrible special effects and the fact that Spock is wearing rocket boots, which he uses to effect a rescue. 

Thankfully an emergency recalls the crew back to the Enterprise, but we then discover that our proud ship is experiencing a torrent of wacky malfunctions, again played for comedic effect. But instead of being funny, the problems just make Starfleet, the Federation, and the Enterprise crew look incompetent, a perception cemented by Starfleet Command's decision to send the ship out on a dangerous mission despite Kirk's protests over the state of the ship. 

The mission? It seems that Sybok, the cloaked fellow from the cold open, has taken possession of the only city on Nimbus III, the "so-called 'Planet of Galactic Peace'" jointly governed by the Federation and its Cold-ish-War enemies, the Klingon Empire and the Romulan Empire. Spock reveals that Sybok is his (never before mentioned) half-brother, and that unlike other Vulcans, Sybok embraces emotions, making him a heretic in Vulcan society. 

The Enterprise arrives at Nimbus III. Keep in mind that the Enterprise, with a crew of over 500 that includes a large, well-armed, and very capable security team, is up against Sybok and a crew of ragtag, poorly-armed bandits. While it's true that Sybok has three important hostages (the diplomats from each government assigned to Nimbus III), which could perhaps hamper rescue operations, you'd think that this mission would still be pretty straightforward for Kirk and company. Except that they can't use the transporters because, of course, they're part of the malfunctions we saw earlier in the picture. So Kirk, Spock, Sulu, McCoy, Uhura, and a few security officers fly a shuttle down to Nimbus III to effect rescue. Poor Uhura gets to perform a striptease to distract the guards, an insulting character beat that I'm sure Nichelle Nichols couldn't have enjoyed much. (Though if she did, more power to her, but it's telling that none of the guys were asked for striptease duty.) 

Alas, despite all logic and reason, Sybok emerges victorious, capturing the landing party and commandeering their shuttle. He reveals his insidious plan: he took hostages on Nimbus III only to lure a starship to the planet so that he could hijack said starship and take it in search of Sha Ka Ree, which he believes is the centre of creation of the universe and the home of God. 

There's a brief moment of excitement when a Klingon Bird-of-Prey shows up in response to the crisis on Nimbus III, but rather than rescuing hostages, Captain Klaa is focused on blowing up Kirk's shuttle thanks to his previous crimes against the Klingon Empire. Sulu's ingenuity and skill get the shuttle safely back aboard the Enterprise, and there's a moment where it looks like Spock can take control of the situation from Sybok and end the crisis. Alas, doing so would mean killing Sybok, and Spock can't do it. Sybok uses his powers to take away the pain of Uhura, Sulu, and Chekov, putting them under his thrall, a moment of triple character assassination that's still hard to forgive. He tries the same thing on McCoy, Spock, and Kirk, but the three of them manage to resist, of course, because they're the headliners in this story. 

Sybok sticks the three of them in a jail cell while he takes the Enterprise to the centre of the galaxy. The trip seems to take about fifteen minutes. Yes, the ships in Star Trek are fast, but they're not supposed to be fast enough to cross thousands of light years in mere minutes. There's a lot of hullabaloo about "no ship has ever survived crossing the Great Barrier!" that apparently surrounds the centre of the galaxy, but of course the Enterprise crosses it without any fanfare. Furthermore, the vengeful Captain Klaa is right on their tail. 

Allow me a moment to digress. When I first saw the first trailer for Star Trek V, I was pretty excited, because that "great barrier" line, taken out of context, makes it sound like a reference to the Great Barrier around the edge of the galaxy shown in Star Trek's second pilot episode, "Where No Man Has Gone Before." I thought we might be getting a sequel to that tremendous episode, akin to the way in which Star Trek II followed up on "Space Seed." 

Alas, I think what happened is simply that Shatner forgot the location of the Great Barrier, sticking it at the galaxy's centre instead of surrounding its perimeter. 

At some point during all this nonsense, Mr. Scott breaks Kirk, Spock, and McCoy out of their cell. He knocks himself out on a bulkhead, to not only the actor's embarrassment bu to that of the entire audience. There's a chase with rocket boots that ends in recapture, but that's fine, Kirk convinces Sybok that since we're all here at the centre of the galaxy, let's go meet God together. 

Kirk, Spock, McCoy, and Sybok take a shuttle down to the planet (the transporters are still broken) and they meet God, who turns out to be a floating head with the stern countenance of an old, white-bearded white guy. Sybok is elated and asks God for the secrets of the universe, but "God" remains suspiciously focused on bringing the Enterprise closer to the planet. It's at this point that Kirk asks why God needs a starship, and then the whole thing goes south; turns out the Great Barrier isn't to keep people out, it's to keep "God" imprisoned. Mortified, Sybok sacrifices himself to get into a sort of psychic wrestling match with the God entity, the transporter works just long enough to get McCoy and Spock back to the ship, then breaks down again so that Kirk has to run away. Just as God is about to smite Kirk, Captain Klaa's Bird of Prey shows up and blasts God to oblivion. The Klingons beam Kirk aboard and discover that Spock served as the ship's gunner; turns out the Klingon hostage was grateful for the initial rescue and demanded Klaa return the favour. In a better film, this turn of events might have raised thoughtful questions about the subtext of Spock killing God, but...this is not that better film. 

The Klingons and the humans have a nice cocktail hour on the Enterprise where they discuss the nature of God, who, as it turns out, is right here in the human heart. They resume their shore leave on Earth and sing "Row, Row, Row Your Boat" over the closing credits. 

In short, Star Trek V is a mess, undermining beloved characters, filled with lacklustre action beats, laughs that don't land, story beats that make no sense given established Star Trek canon, and production values that simply don't stand up for their era, let alone today. 

Hey, It's Better than Into Darkness

That being said, there are a few moments I like. Chekov has a decent moment in command of the Enterprise before he gets brainwashed. Sulu shines as the pilot of the shuttle. Kirk, Spock, and McCoy have some decent character beats together during their camping trip and their stay in the Enterprise brig. There are even a couple of camera moves that would have been impressive and really cinematic if William Shatner had had the resources to execute them properly. (I'm thinking in particular of the shot that ends with the antique ship's wheel in what appears to be the ship's lounge.) The score is lovely. Luckinbill is good. And at least there's some ambition here, something that got lost in some of the later Trek movies--Star Trek Into Darkness, Insurrection, I'm looking at you. 

Jim at the Christmas Party

I wonder if Captain Kirk wore this Christmas sweater that memorable night he enjoyed a romantic encounter with Dr. Helen Noel. 
 

28mm Chair

So this 28mm scale plastic replica of Captain Kirk's chair was something like $7 on eBay and I just had to have it. I even have a use in mind for it - rather, a couple of uses. I look forward to painting it. 

Library Card

No Puns on the Bridge

Kirk's Dark Side

It's a Small World After All

Lament for Lazarus

Herbert Herbert Herbert

First Draft

Shadow Over America: Dreams of a Better Tomorrow

In times of darkness, dreams sustain us. To Riverside, nestled in the full-to-bursting cornfields of Iowa, for an encounter never anticipated: a date with a future of hope at The Voyage Home Museum and the birthstone commemorating the yet-to-come birth of one James Tiberius Kirk.

We reach St. Louis. Now, we wait...for eclipse. 

Gazing Upon Yon Eternal Night

O!
To seek the infinite
Sailing on the boundless firmament
A pushbutton voyage to the black beyond
The swirling mysterious cosmos
Right there on the viewscreen
Until a giant green space hand grabs you or some other improbable thing happens
But then in all this vastness why shouldn't there be a green hand?
Anything but tribbles