She wants to see their ships’ logs to determine where they’ve been and thus how they got sick. Of course, Michael being Michael, at the sight of the writhing Keelies, her mouth starts moving almost as fast as the wheels in her brain start turning. While Adira Tal is shuffled off to medical for analysis - Vance summoned her, too, thinking she was Senna - Saru and Burnham learn several things: one, that Kaminar joined the Federation, although the Burn means they haven’t heard from them in a while two, that something called the Emerald Chain, which is apparently the name for the mobbish Andorian-Orion syndicate we saw at work at the mercantile in the premiere, is a big problem for the Federation/Starfleet and three, that there’s currently a ship full of Keelie refugees (a new species for Trek, as far as I can tell) in sickbay, rapidly deteriorating from some illness that is misfolding the proteins in their DNA and causing their nervous systems to break down. Extremely rude medical AI with serious biosurveillance problems (nobody was excited for this one I’m just disturbed by an AI that can scan people down to the molecular proteins, decide whether you are lying, and then casually insult you for being too “emotional”).Flooring that just appears under your feet as you walk, like you’re fucking Magneto (technically programmable matter, but still - coooool).Floating office furniture (okay, I was the one geeking out over this).Detached nacelles (meaning engines are held to their ships by some sort of forcefield).Constitution, now big enough to house a crew of 2,000 Hulls made entirely of holographic containment fields.Organic hulls (a little Farscape shout-out, perhaps?).Neutronium alloy fibers (AKA super-advanced shielding tech).Here’s a probably incomplete list of the brand-new stuff our crew geeks out over, from the moment they pass through the giant, vibing donut of the distortion field (collectively powered by all the ships inside, I should add): On the other hand, what I can’t imagine is living with the kind of technology that Starfleet and the Federation now have. How can you not respect the hell out of this guy? The Vulcans must adore him. But from where I sit, and I sit here, trusting you is a risk I cannot take without evidence.” His whole deal is summed up perfectly with his response to Burnham saying they jumped to save all organic life: “If that’s true, then we owe you a debt beyond words. The fact that he simply does not offer warmth or friendliness or trust where it’s not earned, instead of just throwing them all in the brig, seems like a pretty spectacular feat of self-control. As much as I adore the Discovery crew, I cannot in good conscience tell you that, were I in Vance’s shoes, their arrival would not annoy the living shit out of me. To say nothing of the fact that there’s absolutely no record of their survival past their reported destruction in 2258, meaning these wide-eyed, willful naïfs expect everyone to just take their word for it. Worse still, they’re carrying 10,000 years of intelligence that could make them, and now us, just as much a target as their dilithium. Their mere presence as time-travelers is a diplomatic nightmare, at best. Pollyanna, a 900-year-old ray of nerd sunshine with non-dilithium warp capabilities, an obscene amount of dilithium, and seemingly no respect for the immense degree of discipline this organization has had to develop simply to survive. ![]() Imagine having to keep alive a now-dwarfed civilian fleet of 38 vessels in total secrecy, not to mention the spirit of the Federation in a time that is lethally hostile to those ideas.Īnd then out of nowhere, here comes the U.S.S. I mean, imagine that, in addition to heading Starfleet, you’re also responsible for a thousand-year-old interplanetary alliance that has suffered what is effectively a multi-species genocide, such that 90 percent of the member planets have either been left for dead in the far reaches of space or have actively betrayed the alliance in favor of militant protectionism. Say what you will about the admiral, but each time, I must ask you: Can you blame him? If he was a woman, men would be calling her a frigid you-know-what. Sure, he grimaces like a shark in such a way that I’m not sure he’s ever actually laughed at a joke in his entire life. ![]() ![]() ![]() Sure, the Starfleet commander-in-chief may have eerily dead eyes. Let me get this out of the way first: there will be no Charles Vance libel in this recap.
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