Deep Space Nine
When Star Trek: Deep Space Nine hit the air in 1993, I wanted nothing to do with it. This is relevant because, when DS9 hit the air, I was deep in what I now refer to as my “Star Trek escapism period.” My personal life (largely due to my own ineptitude and irresponsibility) was a mess, and I found regular solace in The Next Generation, which was very much peaking at the time, quality-wise. That anyone would consider creating a different, darker show — especially so soon after the death of Trek patriarch Gene Roddenberry — well, it was as close to blasphemous as my vocabulary allowed.
Odd now, 11 years later, that DS9 stands as my favorite Star Trek series — possibly my favorite overall TV series — ever. It turns out that everything that made the show different from Next Generation was, paradoxically, everything that made it just as great, if not better.
The biggest complaint from most Trekkies at the time — me included — was that the show didn’t go anywhere. After two series featuring starships boldly going, it seemed stifling to create a story centered around a space station. But instead of confining DS9 to unimaginative and repetitive plots, staying in one place liberated it. It forced a continuing focus, rather than moving from wacky planet to wacky planet week after week. It created an atmosphere of introspection and reflection, rather than one of outward exploration. And this is especially relevant given the show’s strong spiritual underpinnings.
It’s been said that Gene Roddenberry would have hated Deep Space Nine — especially the religious aspects of it. (Roddenberry was an atheist.) But, as an atheist myself, I can say with confidence that one of the show’s greatest strengths came from the whole Prophets/Emissary angle of things. We are frequently reminded that the inhabitants of DS9’s wormhole could be both the mysterious prophets of the Bajoran religion and a highly advanced race of non-linear aliens. The concepts are not mutually exclusive — science does not rule out faith, or vice-versa. It’s a very delicate line that was expertly walked for seven years, and never once is there so much as a stumble. The prophets/wormhole aliens gave the show a mystical (yet plausible, within the realm of cold, hard Federation logic) vibe that one never thought possible in a Star Trek series.
Witnessing the evolution of Benjamin Sisko — first as a reluctant and bitter commander, later as a more confident and decisive captain and ultimately as the willing Emissary of the Prophets — is worth the price of admission alone. That Sisko (the occasionally over-the-top but undeniably powerful Avery Brooks) shares the spotlight with six or seven equally interesting principal characters elevates it beyond a mere allegory of good versus evil and the power of spirituality. There’s a lot going on here, not only with Sisko and his crew, but also among the finest assortment of supporting characters I’ve ever seen. An entire episode in season six focused on Morn — a background character in Quark’s bar who is occasionally spoken of, but who is never seen doing more than inhabiting a barstool — and his story is just as compelling as any other the series had to offer.
Watching the series, as we did, in its entirety, over the course of a couple of months, really drove home just how well it holds together as one long story. As early as season one, the seeds of “the Dominion” are planted, in the form of seemingly meaningless dialogue references. By season three, the direction of the show solidifies, and the remainder of the series unfolds like one incredibly long, amazingly gripping, movie. Even the early dependence on guest stars and borrowed situations from Next Gen are forgivable as it’s clear we’re being steered in an entirely different and fascinating direction.
DS9 featured some great original sci-fi concepts, not the least of which were the primary antagonists, The Founders. A race of shapeshifters who exist naturally in a liquid state, The Founders enjoy most of their existence inside what is called The Great Link — a giant ocean of liquid Founders, swirling and mixing within one another. It is their history with “the solids,” a history that involves the classic “persecution because we’re different” that might be a cliché if it weren’t so damn true in human experience, that forces the birth of The Dominion. In the interest of maintaining order in the galaxy and keeping “the solids” in check, The Founders build themselves a genetically engineered army of soldiers (the Jem Hadar), and a smaller army of diplomats (the Vorta). What our intrepid, ever-optimistic Starfleet folk find waiting for them on the other side of their newly-discovered wormhole is a well-established Dominion that cannot abide the disorder of even more solids. And hence, a war — the primary conflict for the second half of the series — is born.
But for all the new and wondrous concepts the show delivered, it also stayed quite true to its Trek roots. Though the show’s writers found quickly that it was important to distance themselves from Next Gen, they were unafraid to hearken back to the common ancestor of them both: the original Star Trek. Over the course of the series, we are treated to appearances by three original Klingons (Kang, Kor and Koloth, each of whom faced Kirk in mortal combat), the Orion Syndicate (often a thorn in the side of Kirk’s Federation) and the Mirror Universe (you know, Spock with a beard). And then there’s the classic “Trials and Tribble-ations,” which finds the crew traveling back to Kirk’s time and directly interacting in events that we’ve seen once already. Seeing that fully realized 3D model of the original Enterprise, recreations of those sets and Kirk appearing to yell at Chief O’Brien for starting a fight… well, it’s hard to explain. The best phrase for it is probably “fanboy orgasm” — when two of your obsessions collide perfectly in a moment of goosebump-inducing bliss. (Yes, I’m a loser. Get over it already.)
Though the show was portrayed as “dark,” it still managed to carry that basic positive Star Trek message that humanity will prevail. Beneath it all, though, was an indescribable feeling of melancholy and isolation. I have never been able to adequately articulate this very abstract feeling, but it’s been present in all my favorite television series: Buffy, Angel, Twin Peaks and Deep Space Nine. It’s this sense that, while we may be surrounded by people who love us, we are each ultimately alone in the world, and nothing can change that. It’s not an overwhelming feeling, and certainly not one that drags the series down. But it’s always there, lingering behind everything else. Again, words fail. But it’s there.
There were dark elements, of course. We got glimpses of the seamy underbelly of twenty-fourth century life, from the sleazy Quark’s bar (complete with pornographic holosuites) to the shadowy Section 31, which is to Starfleet what the CIA is to our military. And then there’s the war. Next Gen gave us some fantastic battles, but they were always over within a couple of episodes. Even the Borg, that show’s greatest threat, really only showed up in force for two episodes — mostly, they were just hinted at or featured in the background. But DS9’s Dominion War lasts through three solid seasons of action and tragedy. We’ve always suspected what it might look like if Starfleet had to carry on an extended military engagement, but here we get a sustained, realistic look at it. War is hell in the twenty-fourth century, of course, just as it has been in any other.
It’s hard not to compare DS9 to TNG, especially since they started out with a minor TNG player (Chief Miles O’Brien) being thrust into a major role and brought on a major cast member (Worf) by season four. But, once again to the credit of the show’s writers, Worf’s arrival felt incredibly natural, as if it had been planned all along. As tensions build between the Klingons and the Federation (thanks to some shady Dominion manipulating), who better to mediate that tension than the only person to straddle both worlds? The arrival of Worf changed the dynamic of the main cast somewhat, of course… but no more than the introduction of an important minor character like, say, Garak, did. By the sixth season wedding of Worf and Jadzia Dax, it felt like the Klingon had been DS9’s all along, and the Next Gen appearances were just a couple of guest turns.
In the end, the show felt like it had taken us someplace, which is more than most shows of its kind can claim. The principal cast truly felt like a family, which is a feat TNG never entirely pulled off without a hitch. Here’s a perfect example: Next Gen’s finalé wraps up with Picard finally taking a seat at the senior staff’s regular poker game. Deep Space Nine’s finalé, on the other hand, ends with Sisko being pulled into the wormhole (semi?)permanently, and the sadness that comes as the crew must deal with his absence. That one series is punctuated by its patriarch finally coming out of his shell for the first time, while the other leaves us feeling like the family has just lost its beloved father says a great deal about both shows.
So many moments stick out over the course of this series: Kira’s increasingly frustrated glances at herself in the mirror each morning as she faces a new day under Dominion occupation. The political intrigue of Garak and the various cloak-and-dagger schemes connected to him (best played out in the season three two-parters in which the Obsidian Order and the Romulan Tal Shiar join forces in an attempt to wipe out the Dominion). The season 3 closer, The Adversary. The season 4 closer in which the Klingon high chancellor is revealed to be a changeling, and the resulting paranoia in season 5 as we wonder if anyone is who they appear to be. Tribbles. The exhilarating six (!) part season opener to season 6, in which the deposed Federation triumphantly reclaims their station from the Cardassian-Dominion alliance. The wedding of Dax and Worf. The growing friendship between O’Brien and Bashir. The very personal, yet epic, opening to season 7, as Sisko truly comes into his own as The Emissary. The creepy alliance between Gul Dukat and Kai Winn. And the amazing multi-part buildup to the finalé, in which all the major plot threads are expertly woven into the finest tapestry I’ve ever seen.
Granted, there were some occasional missteps. These came, most notably, in seasons 6 and 7 as we were treated to a flurry of episodes featuring one familiar cast member and an assortment of outsiders. There was also the sudden revelation that Bashir was genetically engineered, which quickly became both a punchline and a crutch for a character who was already sufficiently well-rounded, in my opinion. Then there was Vic Fontaine, the interesting, self-aware holosuite character who overstayed his welcome by the closing moments of season 7. The mirror universe and the whimsical Ferengi-centric episodes were similarly interesting concepts that were just done a few too many times. And, Trials and Tribble-ations notwithstanding, time travel episodes almost universally sucked the show down. The first episode I actually saw of the show was “Past Tense,” which was an awful, preachy “go back and change earth’s barbaric past” episode. It took me years before I gave DS9 another chance, and “Past Tense” still stands as my least favorite of the series. Oh, and don’t even talk to me about Kira’s time traveling back to see (and interact with) her mother. The information we got and the character development were important… but not at the expense of all the established “don’t interfere with the timeline” scolding we’ve heard over the years.
In the end, though, Deep Space Nine is far more than the sum of its parts. It’s hard for me to tell if anyone else might like it, because my passion springs from such a personal place. Here we have a drama grounded in what I know best — geeky Star Trek lore — and addressing so many issues relevant to me and my life. DS9 for me is that greatest of artistic endeavors — the work that seems written specifically for Ron ‘AAlgar’ Watt.