In which we meet an old friend, someone almost solves the problem of Friendly AI, and we increment a counter.
In which I needed this episode to be over so badly that I didn’t even write a synopsis, originally.
In which shai-hulud learns to fly, the utility of chain-of-command regulations is called into question, and I am a tactical genius.
In which the metaphor is telegraphed before the episode even starts and we reflect on the sad truth that they can’t all be winners.
In which Spock looks better with a beard, Kirk orders a genocide, and while being the captain isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, it does have its perks.
In which I open a new scotch (Amrut Fusion), we get some preliminary numbers of the arms and armament of the Enterprise, and I try unsuccessfully to convince you that the Borg are involved.
In which a god-like being isn’t bothering with pretense and that’s refreshing, Chekov begins the glorious tradition of pretending everything was invented in Russia, and Greek gods are not as entertaining when they go nuts as blue lamp-bound djinni.
In which McCoy has ceased to be a butt monkey, Spock needs cut cut back on the Adderol, and Kirk should really read the instructions before committing to things.
In which I relive a traumatic moviegoing experience, a perfect opportunity to glass a planet is missed, and GOD DAMN IT, MCCOY.
In which McCoy’s break from reality at least has an excuse this time, the part of Spock is played by Richard Dean Anderson, and Kirk is emotionally mature.