like not to be dramatic or anything but I would gladly and without a second thought lay down my life for vice admiral kathryn janeway, captain of the starship uss voyager
This isn’t DS9 / VOY in specific, but I still want to address this, because I have some passionate feelings about it.
It sounds like you want A Song of Ice and Star Trek, but that would be as incorrect an approach to the series as it would be if HBO made Game of Thrones without the betrayals, blood, pointless cruelty, and injustice. One of the reasons for the tone of that franchise is because George R. R. Martin is trying to knock down the rose-colored view of medieval times in fantasy. Likewise, one of the reasons for the tone of Star Trek is to oppose the relentless pessimism you find in science fiction.
There are a lot of shows and films with a dark, gritty tone about the future. Half the trailers you see in theaters now are for a world taken over by an oppressive regime, or a world in flames because of what we did to it, or a world in flames and under an oppressive regime, in which kindness and morality are as rare as diamonds and fleeting as desert frost. This is not to say that they are bad, just if you want gritty sci-fi, there is no lacking for options. Star Trek sets itself apart from these stories. Instead of assuming that we will continue being the worst of ourselves, Star Trek dares to propose that we can be the best of ourselves–that we can embrace curiosity, compassion, and knowlege, rather than fear and prejudice and greed. It says that the future can be different if we work for it. It speaks to people who are marginalized and shut out and different and says that they have the right to strive and dream. It speaks to people who are not and says “be better.”
The name of the new ship and the new series is Discovery. Does that sound gritty to you? Doesn’t sound like it to me, and I would be severely disappointed if they went along with the general trend and made a grimdark series.
Here are some things about Star Trek if you believe it has failed to live up to “some potential something,” and maybe you will think twice about giving it a chance.
When NASA decided they needed to recruit a more diverse corps of astronauts, they turned to the cast of the Original Series. Mae Jemison, the first African-American woman in space, points to Nichelle Nichols’ Uhura as her inspiration. (Jemison later guest-starred in an episode of TNG, and Star Trek has never stopped inspiring the kids who grow up to be astronauts.)
Janeway was the first female captain to lead the show, but there was also B’Elanna, the first female chief engineer who was part of the main cast. Both characters were not only intellectually brilliant but often took the lead when it came time to fight dudes who were between them and the Alpha Quadrant.
In the height of the Cold War and its paranoia, Star Trek put a Russian character front and center on the bridge, and that’s why you have fans creating beautiful designs for uniforms with hijabs today.
Avery Brooks signed onto Deep Space 9 because he wanted to portray a loving, supportive relationship between a black father and son. He even got them to change the ending of the series over it.
Patrick Stewart insisted on not flinching away from the brutal, dehumanizing portrayal of torture in “Chain of Command,” and the writers consulted Amnesty International to make it as harsh and realistic as possible.
Aron Eisenberg (Nog) got numerous calls from veterans praising his portrayal of PTSD.
And then there is this confession. It is far and away the most liked and reblogged confession on the blog.
I would say that is potential realized.
Star Trek doesn’t just inspire, though. Star Trek confronts. From the very beginning it has held up a mirror to society, and through either allegory or visits to “history” – in other words, the present – calls us out. “Let That Be Your Last Battlefield” with the black-and-white cookie people has their leader shocked that anyone could fail to see the ‘obvious’ point that his counterpart is inferior becuase of his coloration (black… on the left side) and pointedly has diverse actors in the foreground and background, something which they had to fight for. The whole of the Bajoran Occupation arc is about the hideous toll of colonialism and facism. Janeway confronts the question of euthanasia with Quinn, Enterprise has an AIDS allegory, Picard deals with demagogues and religious fantaticism and Kirk advocates respect for life even if it is not as we know it. Deep Space 9 warns of a time when we might shut away the homeless in internment camps not from malice but apathy.
Has Star Trek failed to live up to potential? Oh, you bet. There’s no excuse for the fact that it’s taken until 2016 to have an openly gay character. It has sometimes stood tiptoe on the line of something important and then drawn back. It’s tried to be a future without sexism but also wouldn’t let Mariana Sirtis and Gates McFadden use swords in the Robin Hood episode even though they’re the only ones who actually knew stage fencing. The “cultural expert” on Chakotay turned out to be a white guy who got all his information from Hollywood westerns, a real-life version of the “Apache Tracker” from Night Vale. The times when it does not love up, in other words, is when its bright future is hampered by present-day prejudice… not when it declines to be “gritty.”
Now it’s true that alongside this you have Janeway turning into a lizard and “NO MORE BLAH-BLAHS” and Miles O’Brien versus the shaving cream monster. And quite frankly, those are also an essential part of Star Trek, and I’m pretty sure there are episodes of everyone’s favorite dark and gritty franchises which are relentlessly dumb.
But if you think the point of Star Trek is just the visuals, just the space travel, just the fun of watching Shakespearian actors fling themselves over their leather seats as the camera shakes… you have missed the point of it. It has never been about just what’s on the screen.
Do you ever read a fanfic that is just so good it just sticks with you into days or even weeks after you’ve read it. Like you could be sitting in class or alone in your room and suddenly you’re just like, wow, that was a really good fanfic. Like it was really good.
Sequel to this post with part 1 of the story. Also to be found here.
Janeway/Chakotay, 725 words, romantic fluff.
Bright strings of colourful lights sparkled throughout the
house, glinting off the silvery bauble in Chakotay’s hands as he carefully hung
it onto the tree. The cheerful strains of Christmas music accompanied his work,
ringing out from the kitchen along with Gretchen’s husky voice. It was the same
off-key singing that often emanated from the bathroom when Kathryn was in the
shower. Like mother, like daughter.
They had only been home a few weeks by now, but Chakotay had
immediately felt welcomed and accepted by Kathryn’s family. Arriving in the
Alpha Quadrant in early December, Kathryn was thrilled to be able to have “a
real Janeway family Christmas” once more at her mother’s Indiana home.
Chakotay took another ornament out of the large packing box
and unwrapped it from its tissue-paper covering. “Where does this one go?” he
asked.
Kathryn peeked out from the other side of the large
evergreen tree. “Ah! There it is! That goes right up the top there. You’ll have
to get that because I can’t reach.”
So the golden star found its place on the highest branch of
the tree.
“I don’t think there’s room for any more ornaments,”
Chakotay said, standing back to observe their handiwork.
“Oh, but there is,” Kathryn replied. “There’s just enough
room for the best ones.”
Digging deep into the box, she pulled out several bubble-wrapped
packages and handed them to him. “Mom made these,” she explained, “and they’re
my favorite ones.”
Slowly undoing the layers of plastic – and popping some of
the bubbles along the way – he unveiled a glass bauble with beautifully painted
patterns of pink swirls and flowers framing the name ‘Phoebe’. Kathryn held up
another, with gold swirls and hearts around the name ‘Edward’.
“There’s one for each of us,” she said. “Mom painted the
first ones for Dad as an anniversary gift, and then one each for me and Phoebe
when we were born. And then for Phoebe’s husband. And then for Phoebe’s son.
She’ll probably make one for you before long, if she hasn’t already.”
The next one Chakotay found had purple patterns around
Kathryn’s name, and he found a place for the ornament at the front of the tree.
When they finished hanging the last one, they stood back and
admired their work. Chakotay put an arm around Kathryn’s shoulders and kissed
the top of her head.
“Beautiful decorations, wonderful food, fantastic company….
I think I could learn to like Christmas.”
“It’s my favorite time of the year. I always got so excited
about it as a child.”
“Now there’s an interesting mental image – young Kathryn
Janeway. Let me guess, red pigtails, freckles, and a quantum mechanics padd
practically glued to your hand?”
“Not far off, actually.” Kathryn disentangled herself from
his embrace, and began to scout around the couch cushions. “Now, we normally
save presents for Christmas morning, but – where the hell did I put it? Ah. –
but I wanted to give this to you now.” She presented him with a small package
wrapped loosely in silver paper and tied with gold curling ribbon.
He grinned. “I was actually going to give you an early gift
too,” he said. Her eyes lit up with curiosity. He patted his pocket where he
could feel the tiny, velvet box nestled safely inside. “Later.”
He untied the ribbon from the bundle in his hands, then the
paper fell away and he found himself holding a pair of woollen socks.
Socks which matched exactly a certain scarf he had once
received.
He looked at her suspiciously. “Socks?”
“For the man who has everything, remember?”
“I already have you, Love. What more could I want?”
Kathryn shrugged, her eyes still glinting with mischief.
Chakotay picked up one of the socks to examine it more closely, and he felt
something inside it. Aware of Kathryn’s eyes on him, he wriggled his hand
inside the sock to retrieve the object inside. It was an old-fashioned
photograph. A very dark and blurry photograph.
“What is it?” he asked.
“A photo.”
“I know that. What’s it a picture of?”
“It’s a picture the Doctor gave me a few days ago.”
“Of?”
“Our baby.”
Seated at the kitchen table, painting Chakotay’s name onto a
bauble and singing happily along to “Deck the Halls”, Gretchen was suddenly startled
by the loudest whoop of joy she had ever heard.
bekjaneway 