Sure! Here’s my crude, MS-Paint-esque diagram:
1-6 are pretty obvious, just marked with numbers. 7 and 8 are circled with a line looping back to their number. 8 is just peeking around a corner, while 7 is only barely visible, with part of the top of his head peaking out from behind 5’s neck.
I count eight Kims (two of them only partially visible) in that shot of the prison cell, and there’s a fair bit of room around the corner for more to be hidden. I think it’s also easy to believe there are more cells containing more Kims just down the hall.
It’s reasonable to assume that the Defiant class’s 50 crew compliment is pretty close to a bare minimum already. 16-17 active at any one time is a pretty short list as it is, with roughly half that posted to the bridge during normal operations and most of the rest in engineering, plus a transporter chief, doctor, and other specialists. Having two shifts of reserves is crucial for covering both a long term assignment and for battle situations: you need to keep the crew as fresh as possible in the long run, and in combat you need those people to fill in for casualties and act as damage control, security, and emergency medical personnel. So unless Section 31’s strategic level idiocy extends all the way down to inane meddling in shipboard operations (possible, these guys are morons with dangerously inflated egos!), it should be safe to assume that the Anaximander was supposed to be staffed with about 50 crew.
That sidesteps the question of why all of these comically evil people are okay with using this arbitrary contest to determine succession, instead of the usual route of organically murdering each other until someone emerges who is good enough at disposing of potential assassins that they keep the throne for a while?
I didn’t watch the movie, so I’m probably missing something. Did Georgiou also have to deal with a bunch of normal assassination plots after officially gaining the throne? Or are we to assume that by virtue of winning this contest, she is widely seen as too dangerous for anyone to attempt to usurp?
Who’s gonna do it? You? You, Lieutenant Barclay?
Yes?
Lieutenant Barklay and the huge, powerful, and successful paramilitary organization who employs him are exactly who is supposed to guard Federation worlds. Which is what they do.
That makes quite a bit more sense, and if that was the intention I wish they’d been a little more explicit about it. I didn’t even realize the implant was mucking with his emotional processing? Despite the Episode 1 throwaway line about it being a “Vulcan” implant, he seemed to have pretty normal emotional responses to me.
The showrunners said from a very early point that the two would not get together during the shows run, and I get the distinct impression that they actively enjoy trolling shippers. So this is pretty much exactly what I expected, and I’m perfectly happy with it.
(Also, look at Tendi in that last scene, when she gets a scan of Rutherford during a conversation about them being “just friends”. She saw something on that Tricorder which she didn’t expect, and then when Rutherford gets up and has his back turned, she’s clearly checking him out. Draw your own conclusions.)
The overall Rutherford arc was less successful. I guess they seeded it previously, but I always just assumed his implant was on the fritz, so it was odd to see him suddenly blaming the ship.
I am at a loss as to how Rutherford’s implant could be flexible enough to function as part of his brain in day-to-day life, and yet somehow be incapable of helping him solve engineering problems on an old ship? Is there some kind of weird DRM installed that prevents it from opening schematics older than a couple years? Or is all the data on California class systems stored in a file format that they latest and greatest starfleet tech can’t open? Both of which would be rather colossal failures of Federation computer tech.
This was a pretty solid episode with some very good jokes (the thing about creating a warp field with one nacelle was fantastic, for example), but I left feeling underwhelmed because of the bizare “the first officer is two LTJGs” thing. Lower Decks has had a shockingly strong track record of not doing things that strike me as immediately stupid, but this is really silly. “Ransom must be pulling another twisted prank, because he’s not this bad at his job” level silly. I think it’s still better than promoting Tilly to XO, but that’s a bar I had hoped this show would remain well clear of and a close shave is disappointing.
I think I understand why they did this: there’s no obvious non-specialist XO candidate of an appropriate rank in the main cast (arguably Shax, but he’s “only” a LT and does not seem ready for the job), and they didn’t want to just trot out a handwave and say they’ll be picking up the XO at the next starbase or something. I’d also theorize that they had planned to have two more seasons in which to work Mariner and Boimler into positions where they might actually make sense for an XO billet. But they aren’t there yet, and they both know it.
Also, gosh would that alternate universe explorer thing have been useful in DISCO S3. And probably Prodigy too. It’s also a dangerous can of worms to open for future stories, because having reliable access to random slightly different universes, apparently at different points in their timelines, is incredibly useful for both anticipating and solving problems in the “prime” universe. There’s also cool stuff they can do with it and I’m sure they will, so I’m trying to keep an open mind.
Finally, props to them for coming up with a more plausible reason for our heroes to literally save the universe: because someone connected to them got unwittingly thrown into a position of enormous influence, and deliberately picked them. It’s Zeus and company antagonizing Hercules, not Michael Burnham being central to solving five (?) entirely unrelated but galactically significant disasters, apparently by pure chance.
If Kolinahr works like it says on the tin (purging all emotion), it seems doubtful that the season would have the same plot. Spock probably wouldn’t have been in whatever weird mood compelled him to “steal” the Enterprise and charge off to Cajitar. It’s unclear how he would have been affected if he were again abruptly turned fully human, or if Chapel could have convinced the aliens to change him back, it seems especially unlikely that the two of them would have wound up in a relationship at all. So the emotional cause for his Subspace Rhapsody solo is gone.
As for the more technical side:
Uhura: I have a theory. I think since we’re in a musical reality, we’re actually following the rules of musicals. So, when do characters in musicals usually begin to sing? When their emotions are so heightened that words won’t suffice. This musical reality wants us to sing about what’s most pressing on our minds. These emotions have the power to overwhelm our capacity for rational thinking. They also have the potential to drive us apart.
If Uhura’s theorizing was correct, an emotionless Spock would have probably been involved in the ensemble songs the same as always, but would by definition be incapable of experiencing “emotions […] so heightened that words won’t suffice”. So it is unlikely that he would have found himself belting out a solo about anything.
I wonder how common is it for a starship to make their “Senior Science Officer” a two person team.
Clearly many captains don’t see filling the role as a priority: None of the Enterprise D, Voyager, or (until this episode) the Cerritos had a senior science officer posted to the bridge. This makes a fair bit of sense on the grounds that “science” is an extraordinarily broad field and most of the practical, problem-solving sciencing we see tends to fall under the umbrella of engineering, so subject specialists and engineers wind up carrying the load as appropriate. As they should! No science officer can possibly hope to be comparably well versed in any given subject than a more junior officer who happens to specialize in it.
Therefore, although scientific acumen is obviously useful, as is getting as much scientific acumen as possible onto the bridge to quickly react to whatever weird shit a ship encounters, the larger part of the job is going to come down to synthesizing the larger knowledge base of the ship’s contingent of scientists into an actionable answer. The Senior Science Officer should be asking themselves not just “what do I know about this”, but “who else on the ship knows more about this” and, in a pinch, “which of these different ideas are we actually going to try.”
Having two people in the role is beneficial for getting more scientific knowledge on the spot and ready to be used, especially if the two people involved work well together, but it’s a potential liability in that final point where two people can reasonably disagree, but someone is going to have to make a call on what the best option is. In many cases that person is the captain, but when time is scarce and the choice is between things the captain doesn’t understand, the choice is really going to come down to the science officer. And what happens when the two science officers disagree?
In this case, I think the correct choice between our two science heroes would be Tendi. She’s (generally) good with other people, she has actual command experience (in combat situations, no less), she knows the bridge officers better, and they are more familiar with her. Further, T’Lyn is nominally a temporary posting who doesn’t seem to view herself as a serious candidate for the role. All the conventional decision-aiding factors seem to favor Tendi, and we all know she’s qualified.
Which leaves me wondering why this was a particularly difficult decision for Freeman, and why Data recommended this seemingly unconventional solution. Heck, Data barely even saw these two officers working together, as the two of them spent nearly the entire time working independently.
So maybe having multiple “senior” science officers is a normal state of affairs, and the expectation is that the captain will ultimately be able to resolve any final-stage disputes without needing an explicit head of the science division? That’s plausible if potential awkward, and there do seem to be plenty of consoles at the back of the bridge for multiple science specialists to be sitting in.
I would have struggled to date the station given just the exterior, personally. A 2260s (or earlier) origin seems well within the bounds of possibility.
How many Starbases does Starfleet have? It seems that their numbering system is not truly sequential, as SB343 was existant in 2256, while SB173 was brand new in 2365. SB80 could be quite old, or relatively new but using a repurposed spaceframe from an older space station which had received a major upgrade.
I really liked this one. I think it did a good job making Starbase 80 fit into the universe as more than just a joke (why does starfleet have a starbase that everyone knows just totally sucks? Well, because of a bunch of weird circumstances, and also it’s more complicated than the reputation).
Interesting, although unsurprising, that Mariner apparently didn’t hang around SB80 long enough to figure out that there was more there than met the eye. A lot of the stuff uncovered in this episode should have been noticeable to a new transfer.
Who actually was Bargh? He’s the “leader of the Klingon Oversight Council,” who are supposedly tasked with approving the eligibility of officers. That doesn’t sound like a body which would actually command ships or fleets directly, but Ma’ah describes his ship as being part of Bargh’s fleet. Bargh’s death is also not presented as something that would significantly shake the Klingon government. Kor had been on this council (and rejected Martok) in 2345, but Kor would have been approaching 100 at that point and likely wasn’t especially active in day-to-day military command.
So is Bargh essentially a minor administrator on a power trip, or a person of significant status and power who commands fleets but also has a role on this relatively minor council? My inclination is the former, and Ma’ah is expressing some sour grapes in referring to “his” fleet, but it’s not clear.
Transporter clones appear to be vanishingly rare. We’re aware of two (Thomas Riker and William Boimler), and the circumstances around Thomas Riker’s existence were clearly unheard of to any of the people investigating. Clearly this is not a thing that transporters normally do, or are even capable of outside of extremely unusual circumstances.
It also seems pretty dystopian to require the insertion of artificial genetic markers to make a person more easily recognizable. Would we expect “normal” identical twins to be treated similarly? Or actual clones?
I think the larger lesson on this incident from Starfleet’s perspective is that they need to beef up their internal security practices. Big shocker, that. Thomas Riker is neither the first nor last person to successfully impersonate a starfleet officer and cause major troubles in doing so, and most threat vectors can’t be solved by preemptively identifying likely perpetrators (such as this likely very offended transporter clone) and modifying them specifically to make infiltration more difficult.
Starfleet seems to have an interesting relationship with the media, giving privileged access to reporters who are willing to make at least some of their subjects look bad. Low-ranking officers also evidently know a whole lot about weird and embarrassing things that other crews have done, so at least basically mission logs must be relatively easy to access.
There are counterexamples, but on the whole, it doesn’t seem like the kind of information that would matter to that magazine is controlled much at all.
Voyager’s original CMO was a Lieutenant Commander, which is presumably pretty typical for a ship of Voyager’s size. Bashir was commissioned as a Lieutenant Junior Grade to be the CMO on a backwater space station, so that’s presumably the bare minimum.
I would expect the Doctor’s first official rank (whatever that might be) to stick with him, plus promotion as appropriate. Adjusting it up and down based on posting would be a bizare thing to do for any other crewperson, and I’m sure The Doctor would object vigorously to such a thing.
Unfortunately, there was definitely more going on than that. The genetically modified children were telepaths who could move physical chess pieces with their minds.
I’m very fond of Jack Frost. It’s as corny and delightfully bizare as one could want from a Russian mythology movie made in 1965 USSR, and the riffs are obviously great.
The idea of deliberately creating otherwise illegal augmented people purely for the purpose of making it easier to systemically identify other augmented people is so brazenly unethical, I am at a loss for further comment.
And a well-chosen anthem it is!