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Nutshell: Aside from a mild case of Split Personality Syndrome in some of the dual-plotted episodes, this was an excellent season that defined some of the series most important and lasting character relationships and pivotal storylines.

After much self-debate, I finally decided it was time to go back and review the first and second seasons of DS9. The final result of that decision for season two is below. These are not full-length reviews like the weekly ones I've been doing for the last few years. Quite frankly, I wasn't willing to commit myself to spending that much time. However, the capsule reviews below contain several sentences of crucial synopsis in addition to my overall opinions on the most important aspects of each show. The capsules are similar in structure to my other season recap reviews, although they are significantly longer and a bit more detailed. Following the capsules is a comment on the season as a whole. With that said...

Part 1: Capsule Reviews

To see the rankings and 10-scale ratings for this season's episodes, click here.

The Homecoming -- Air date: 9/27/1993. Teleplay by Ira Steven Behr. Story by Jeri Taylor and Ira Steven Behr. Directed by Winrich Kolbe.

When Kira receives a Bajoran earring--smuggled out of a Bajoran labor camp--she goes on a mission to Cardassia IV to liberate the prisoners, who have been held in contrary to the Cardassians' promise that all their prisoners of war had been released. Kira hopes to find Li Nalas, a renowned Bajoran hero whose return to Bajor could unite the torn world in its hour of need. The first and best of three parts, "Homecoming" follows up the promise of Bajoran political situations that last season's "In the Hands of the Prophets" left behind. Paced much like a feature film, this installment sets up the three-parter beautifully. The expanded time format provides a great deal of character development opportunities. The dialog scenes between Sisko and Kira show two characters on the same wavelength in what feels like true Federation/Bajoran interaction. Each strives to similar goals, but acknowledges that the other has its own agendas. In the episode's second segment, Kira and O'Brien take a Runabout to Cardassia IV to rescue the prisoners. The action sequences and outdoor locations are expertly done under Winrich Kolbe's stellar direction. The episode's third segment analyzes the situation of Li Nalas (Richard Beymer), revealing a textured, multifaceted character with some fascinating dimensions. Beimler's portrayal of a hero who never even wanted to be the living legend he became is a fully realized performance. Sisko's observation that "Bajor doesn't need a hero; it needs a symbol," is especially keen. The introduction of Minister Jaro (Frank Langella) adds nicely to the character canvas and promises to play a big part in the arc. Overall, this is a difficult episode to summarize in words; much of the success can be attributed to various pieces of interesting dialog exchanges and performances. Even though the plot is just beginning, this is a knockout season opener that covers quite a bit of ground stylistically and dramatically. Well done.

Rating:

The Circle -- Air date: 10/4/1993. Written by Peter Allan Fields. Directed by Corey Allen.

In "The Circle," Kira is recalled to Bajor, replaced by Li Nalas at the order of Minister Jaro and the provisional government. Meanwhile, the layered plot of political intrigue continues to unfold, as Odo discovers that the Circle--an extremist Bajoran group that wants nothing to do with the Federation and employs violence in its attempt to gain widespread Bajoran support--is unknowingly being supplied weapons by the Cardassians through a third party. Like the first part, this manages to tell a lot of story while still maintaining a respectably slow pace. Kira's time at a Bajoran monastery proves quite interesting--the idea of Kira trying to be "useless" seems exactly like the type of thing she wouldn't agree with. And her encounter with the orb as she explores her pagh is downright powerful; the imagery is effective and the vivid symbolism and foreshadowing proves incredibly intriguing. Minister Jaro turns out to be the leader of the Circle, and his motives--that of a Bajoran who has seen enough governments come and go--strike me as completely believable. One beauty of DS9's political backdrop is the way it allows the analysis of events that unfold; Jaro isn't simply a villain, he's an adamant man who, in his mind, has been forced into the direction he has taken and sets his sights for it. Such characters and their actions make for a compelling story that's believable. One problem with the episode, however, is some of its pacing, particularly some slightly off-kilter scenes involving Vedek Winn. Two of her extended dialog scenes--one involving her and Jaro, and the other involving her, Bareil, and Kira--drag on longer than they should, and they don't quite have the powerful payoff they deserve. Such dialog isn't on the level of Sisko and Li Nalas' discussion in "The Homecoming."

Rating:

The Siege -- Air date: 10/11/1993. Written by Michael Piller. Directed by Winrich Kolbe.

The weakest of the overall stellar three-parter wraps the plot up nicely, but unlike the first two parts there's more a sense that the story's events were pre-planned by a writing team than they followed inevitably from the setup of the story. "The Siege" documents a Bajoran coup d'état that backs the Circle's planned takeover of Bajor. The military operation is led by General Krim (Stephen Maght) who plans to take control of the station. Since internal Bajoran politics are out of the Federation's hands and the Circle's coup wants nothing to do with the Federation, Starfleet Command orders Sisko to evacuate all Starfleet personnel from the station. Sisko evacuates his crew, but hides himself and his team on the station to delay Krim's forces long enough so that Kira and Dax can deliver crucial proof of the Cardassian involvement to the Bajoran Chamber of Ministers. "Siege" is an entertaining and credible wrap-up of the situation that benefits from plenty of interesting intrigue, but there's also a great deal of lackluster action mired in here. The bloodless phaser fight on the promenade lacks punch, and scenes where Quark hauls his latinum through the air shafts are needless wastes of screen time. On the other hand, the fresh action sequences where Kira and Dax fly to Bajor in a run-down craft that's been sitting since the resistance days are both engaging and humorous--and incredibly well done. Kolbe's direction is atmospheric and the production is impressive, although the story's ending is less than what it could've been. The danger recedes a little too quickly, the Circle's coup disintegrates a tad too neatly, and the roles of characters like Jaro and Winn in the plot feel somewhat unfinished. Also, the arbitrary death that gets Li Nalas "off the hook"--while effective as closure for his character--highlights how much potential has been lost by simply deleting the character. The overall effect of this finale is good, but not up to what came before.

Rating:

Invasive Procedures -- Air date: 10/18/1993. Teleplay by John Whelpley and Robert Hewitt Wolfe. Story by John Whelpley. Directed by Les Landau.

A severe plasma storm leads DS9 to be temporarily but completely evacuated, save the senior officers (of course) who remain on board. After the evacuation, an unjoined Trill named Verad (John Glover) and his small band of mercenaries gain access to the abandoned station and hold the officers hostage. Verad has come to steal the Dax symbiont from Jadzia--which he believes is rightly his--and damn the consequences that Jadzia will die within hours of the operation. "Invasive Procedures" is an engaging character story with some surprising depth--though it also has some evident flaws. The premise that sets the episode in motion--the convenient abandoning of DS9--is totally contrived. And the idea that Quark bypasses station security and unwittingly allows these mercenaries to board the station purports to have dire consequences ("You're through here," Kira promises at one point), but ultimately comes off awfully transparent. But the core of this episode is very strong, featuring some excellent characterizations. John Glover's portrayal of an inept, confidence-lacking Verad is brilliant. Equally brilliant is his change of personality once he steals the symbiont and joins with it, becoming an interesting blend of Verad and Dax. Sisko's response to the joining is utterly fascinating to watch, as he attempts to reason with the friend he knows resides inside the new Verad. Sisko also slowly wears down Verad's girlfriend Mareel (Megan Gallagher), who watches in dismay as the man she knows transforms into a personality who subtly reveals he doesn't "need" her anymore. The subplotting involving Bashir, Quark, and the Klingon mercenaries (Steve Rankin and Voyager's Tim Russ) proves amusing, albeit routine. But the psychological twists and turns involving Sisko, Mareel, and the tragic Verad keeps this show in top form.

Rating:

Cardassians -- Air date: 10/25/1993. Teleplay by James Crocker. Story by Gene Wolande & John Wright. Directed by Cliff Bole.

"Cardassians" is another stellar episode that highlights what DS9's true strengths are. A young, adopted Cardassian boy named Rugel comes to DS9 with his Bajoran father, but when Rugel bites Garak's hand, a troubling issue appears: Is this a person who has been taught by his Bajoran parents to hate his own kind? Like many DS9 installments, this episode brings up some extremely sophisticated, relevant themes with tough grey areas: racial hatred, the problems of making generalities, the burden of prejudices by a devastated people, and even agonizing child custody issues. One thing for certain has been reiterated by this story: The Cardassians are not simply villains to be exploited for shallow plots; they're a fountain of potential for asking probing, intelligent questions that force us to think about a situation from many sides--as this episode does. Big issues aside, this episode packs quite an emotional wallop, as the young boy, his Bajoran father (Terrence Evans), and even the Cardassian father (Robert Mandan)--who suddenly learns his son is still alive--become the victims in a game of political intrigue set in motion by none other than the self-serving Gul Dukat. The complex plot is wound together with extreme adeptness, and benefits from the entertaining pairing of Bashir and the incredibly interesting and observant Garak, who persistently investigate the political intrigue as it unfolds. The scenes with Miles, Keiko, and Rugel are also enlightening and well-acted. Amid the fury of revelations supplied at the end of the episode, it's not exactly clear how Dukat was able to obtain the young Rugel all those years ago, but overall this plot is very sensible and executed with confidence. This is a quiet episode you shouldn't miss.

Rating:

Melora -- Air date: 11/1/1993. Teleplay by Evan Carlos Somers and Steven Baum and Michael Piller & James Crocker. Story by Evan Carlos Somers. Directed by Winrich Kolbe.

Ensign Melora (Daphne Ashbrook), an Elysian woman confined to a wheelchair due to her homeworld's lower natural gravity, is temporarily assigned to DS9, bringing with her a chip on her shoulder and a defensive attitude that the fascinated Bashir instantly finds challenging. Meanwhile, and old "friend" that Quark testified against (Peter Crombie) and had sent to prison years ago comes to the station and threatens to kill the Ferengi barkeep. "Melora" is another small DS9 drama about unique perspectives, but this episode doesn't really seem know what it wants to say. It merely rambles with dialog scenes that don't really have any long-term significance to Melora's situation--and Melora herself thus comes off as a severely undefined character. First the story makes Melora unlikable and closed-off (she wants to be completely independent and attacks anyone who tries to give her help), then it suddenly makes her open to possibilities when Bashir far-too-easily stumbles over a medical procedure that could allow her to walk in normal gravity--an idea that, dramatically, is both too obvious and doesn't offer any interesting insights. What really hurts are two awkward, forced Runabout scenes. One involves Dax and Melora talking about "romance in Starfleet," which feels so oddly out of place and is directed with such uncertainty that the scene seems to belong in a soap opera. The other big mistake is the finale where the bad guy from the B-plot takes Melora, Quark, and Dax hostage in a Runabout, and is resolved with the corny idea of Melora disabling the gravity to subdue him. The best summary of this ending would be to take the word "clever," find a word that means the exact opposite, and apply it appropriately. The episode isn't awful; some of the Bashir/Melora chemistry works, particularly the scene where Bashir deconstructs Melora's sarcastic defensiveness with equally pointed remarks. But proceed with caution--this episode doesn't end up saying much of anything.

Rating:

Rules of Acquisition -- Air date: 11/8/1993. Teleplay by Ira Steven Behr. Story by Hilary Bader. Directed by David Livingston.

Every once in a while we'll get an episode like this, which doesn't know what it's trying to be and simply resides in the realm of neutrality. As a story, "Rules of Acquisition" is pretty mediocre; it centers around Zek coming to the station and hiring Quark to establish a Ferengi business presence in the Gamma Quadrant. Along with his new business partner Pel (Hélène Udy), Quark opens negotiations with some terribly hokey and unrealized Dosi traders, who eventually reveal that the Dominion--a mysterious presence in the Gamma Quadrant (which, as we now know, will become a significant element of the series)--is a major force to be reckoned with. The plot serves as a launchpad for the real premise: the revelation (if you can call it a revelation since it was revealed in the trailers) that Pel is a Ferengi woman masquerading as a man. The last act documents the fallout from Pel's admission, showing how sexist and backward Ferengi society is. But what is this supposed to mean? Are we supposed to take it seriously? Much of the episode seems to think we aren't, as it's filled with the usual Ferengi Rules of Acquisition, farcical jokes, and other such lunacy (like many of Zek's scenes). Is this supposed to be a satire? If so, it doesn't have the teeth. A half-serious drama? If so, it suffers because it gives Quark no stand on the issue. As a Ferengi, Quark seems to disapprove of Pel's actions, but the story is never really sure what we're supposed to make of his opinions. What about a romance? The final scenes indicate Quark has fallen in love with Pel, but the reasoning seems either arbitrary or nonexistent. There isn't the slightest bit of chemistry in the characterizations, or even a hint of sincerity in Quark to take the "romance" at face value. All in all, this episode is a sometimes-entertaining farce with less relevance than even such a premise is worthy of.

Rating:

Necessary Evil -- Air date: 11/15/1993. Written by Peter Allan Fields. Directed by James L. Conway.

An attempt on Quark's life sheds new light on a murder investigation from years ago that Odo had never solved, and as he looks at the new evidence (a mysterious list of names) he assembles the clues from the past and present to uncover the killer of a Bajoran chemist. One real strength to "Necessary Evil" is its remarkably compelling flashback sequences, which are woven into the story flawlessly. James Conway's stellar direction and the standout art design and production takes us back to Terok Nor of five years earlier, creating a dark, malevolent slave mining station run by Gul Dukat. The lighting and photography is nothing short of brilliant--creating a true Trek noir--but the characterizations and story events are just as powerfully drawn. Odo's investigating techniques highlight his intelligence, patience, and thoroughness extremely well--and his pointed commentary about justice in both the dialog and the running security log voice-overs highlights many keen observations. The flashbacks plausibly and interestingly document the way Odo met Kira, Dukat, and Quark all within the same investigation. The story's use of the murdered man's widow, Pallra (Katherine Moffat), is also nicely realized. Kira's role in the investigation is especially intriguing, opening the door to more dark chapters of the freedom fighter's violent past. The revelation that she was actually the killer--on assignment by the Bajoran underground--is gutsy and probing, weakening a bond of trust shared between her and Odo. With a plot that is beautifully crafted, its powerful and thoughtful dialog, and a multitude of riveting character implications, "Necessary Evil" is one of the series' all-time best installments.

Rating:

Second Sight -- Air date: 11/22/1993. Teleplay by Mark Gehred-O'Connell and Ira Steven Behr & Robert Hewitt Wolfe. Story by Mark Gehred-O'Connell. Directed by Alexander Singer.

In "Second Sight," the brilliant Professor Seyetik (Richard Kiley) comes to DS9 to prepare a groundbreaking experiment. Meanwhile, Sisko meets an enigmatic woman and finds himself falling in love for the first time since his wife's death four years earlier. The woman, Fenna (Salli Elise Richardson), is like a dream--she has a knack for saying the perfect thing at the perfect time. The only problem: she keeps disappearing ... literally. Many portions of this episode ring true. There are some genuinely engaging emotional moments in the romance between Sisko and Fenna; often present in the performances is a sweet chemistry that proves engaging and sometimes downright moving. Even more engaging are the typically effective scenes between Sisko and his son. One scene in particular ends with a big laugh, as Jake gives his father a look of utter bemusement. What doesn't work, unfortunately, is the "sci-fi" plotting used to explain Fenna's existence. The plot makes a less than stellar attempt to link Fenna to Seyetik's wife, Nidell, writing Fenna off as a nonreal figment of Nidell's convenient telepathic abilities. As compensation for the gratuitous twist, the episode has Kiley as the egomaniac Seyetik. He's the type of guy who writes his own obituary because he wouldn't dream of leaving the task of writing something so important in anyone else's hands. You've gotta love this guy--he's arrogant, and he knows it. Kiley is delightful, bringing a great deal of humor and charisma to the role, with a final scene that is bittersweet in its theatrics. Unfortunately, the more important issue here--that of Sisko's romance--ultimately falls short (and feels too much like a Reset Button Plot) because of the story's need to make his would-be companion nonreal--thus rendering the romance dramatically unfulfilling.

Rating:

Sanctuary -- Air date: 11/29/1993. Teleplay by Frederick Rappaport. Story by Gabe Essoe & Kelley Miles. Directed by Les Landau.

Three million refugees from a race called the Skrreeans come through the wormhole looking for their destined homeworld. It's later revealed that Bajor is the world they have sought, and the problem becomes finding a place for them on a torn world that can barely sustain itself. However, before this premise is revealed the story spends its first act mired in a lot of silliness involving the Universal Translator, which ultimately has little dramatic relevance and winds up being simply implausible. (And just because there's a language barrier doesn't mean the Skrreeans have to enter every room with such overstated trepidation.) Once we're through the awkwardly played scene where the Skrreeans become linguistically comprehensible, a social allegory of sorts begins to take form. About all I can say here is that I see what they were going for, but the execution leaves much to be desired. The idea of the Bajorans denying the Skrreeans the sanctuary they request is definitely a plausible argument, and the issues of xenophobia and unwelcomed immigration are certainly relevant. But the script is heavy-handed in its obvious messages, and the dramatic tension is forced. Even though Sisko finds the Skrreeans a perfectly reasonable (probably more reasonable) alternative planet, Haneek (Deborah May), the Skrreean who represents the refugees, remains positively adamant on Bajor for reasons that are never made clear. The episode seems to be preaching about Bajor's unwillingness to help outsiders for the sake of preaching, rather than building a solid story around the premise. I also don't care for the completely forced and manipulative ending sequence, where the story sends Haneek's son Tumak (Andrew Koenig) charging toward Bajor in a stolen ship, for the sole reason of killing him off and driving home the would-be message. Yes, there are some valid points here. But there's also a lot of lackluster drama that wants to mean more than it really does.

Rating:

Rivals -- Air date: 1/3/1994. Teleplay by Joe Menosky. Story by Jim Trombetta and Michael Piller. Directed by David Livingston.

An El'Aurian con man named Martus (Chris Sarandon) visits DS9 and stumbles across a bizarre gambling device that--once replicated and integrated into his newly established casino--inadvertently changes the laws of probability so that unforeseen unlikelihoods occur on the station. "Rivals" is an atypical attempt at light cleverness, and it almost works. This is a relaxing, diverting hour with enough sense of whimsy to be respectably entertaining. Particularly fun to watch are the humorous character moments surrounding O'Brien and Bashir's racquetball rivalry. Watching O'Brien's frustration over Julian's youth advantage is a delight, and Bashir's own problem of having to beat a person he considers a mentor is a witty twist. Less compelling are the implications of Martus' competitive establishment stealing all of Quark's customers--though the idea isn't completely unpalatable. Quark's idea of conning O'Brien and Bashir into a "charity" racquetball tournament to regenerate his business is somewhat inspired. And the results of the tournament prove interesting when the change in the probability laws causes the ball to always go to O'Brien--a fairly clever idea. But there's a glaring flaw surrounding this episode, which is that the writing is far too restrained and low-key for what the premise demands. Menosky should've pushed the envelope on this one so much further into comic mayhem--or at least into mild slapstick or memorable creativity. As it stands, "Rivals" is an amiable, lightweight episode with some good ideas, but just not funny or inspired enough to maintain a real sense of energy.

Rating:

The Alternate -- Air date: 1/10/1994. Teleplay by Bill Dial. Story by Jim Trombetta and Bill Dial. Directed by David Carson.

Dr. Mora (James Sloyan), the scientist who helped Odo develop his shapeshifting abilities, and also a father-like figure to the rogue Changeling, comes to DS9 to reconnect old bonds which have grown apart since Odo left Bajor in search of something better than being a "science project." Meanwhile, an Unknown Lifeform [TM] that Mora and Odo have brought back from the Gamma Quadrant (which, by the way, may be a clue to Odo's mysterious origins--or not) roams the station and attacks people, in a plot akin to a B monster movie. If ever there were an episode with a split personality, "The Alternate" is it. There are two ideas here that the writers must've been set on jamming together into one, never mind that they really shouldn't have had the slightest reason for coexisting. Nevertheless, "The Alternate" manages to be a riveting show on some levels, even if it's the epitome of mediocrity on others. The Odo/Mora scenes are fantastic, opening the backstory to how Odo became who and what he is, even how his personality came to be. Sloyan is superb as Dr. Mora, and Auberjonois' turn as Odo is a highlight that exhibits attitudes that are far more "personal" than the character typically takes on. Then there's the lifeform plot, which is filled with long stretches of dull scientific exposition, technobabble, bizarre red herrings, and even a few suspense scenes (some of which actually work). The episode's twist is that the lifeform is actually Odo in an uncontrollable shapeshifting state, who chases after Dr. Mora because of gas particles that have been absorbed into his (Odo's, that is) cellular structure. As implausible as it probably is in plot terms, this explanation somehow manages to have some moving emotional implications in the Odo/Mora storyline, driving home a bond the two realize they need to reopen and reevaluate. But couldn't this have been done without so much mundane (and unlikely) underlying subplotting?

Rating:

[Note: If you watch this episode again, you'll notice a blatant change in character backstory. There's a dialog scene here that strongly suggests (more like flat-out says) that Sisko's father had died years ago. Look at the scene where Sisko offers words of wisdom to an Odo concerned about Mora's condition after encountering the toxic gas: "In the end there was nothing [my father] could do, and nothing I could do." This is contrary to "Homefront," in which we learn Sisko's father is still quite alive.]

Armageddon Game -- Air date: 1/31/1994. Writen by Morgan Gendel. Directed by Winrich Kolbe.

O'Brien and Bashir assist a non-Federation world, the T'Lani, in destroying several reams of their terrible and now-unwanted biological weapons, the harvesters. But the two Starfleet officers find themselves on the run once the last harvester is destroyed, when an attacking group of T'Lani attempts to kill anyone with knowledge of the all-too-deadly harvesters. "Armageddon Game" is a good episode with an action premise that quickly turns into an interesting (if unexpected) character show. The action early in the episode is reasonably executed, and the irony that the T'Lani would need to make sure anyone with knowledge of the harvesters needs to be eliminated--even those who helped destroy such knowledge--is a telling sign of the severity of such weapons. Meanwhile, the T'Lani provide Sisko with misinformation, claiming the two officers died in an accident and providing a forged video recording of the alleged incident. The resulting scenes on DS9 are hit-and-miss, featuring some absorbing realistic reactions (Sisko's acknowledgement that "the next few days are going to be hard, but we all have jobs to do" and Quark's toast to the deceased "good customers" ring particularly true), and some less effective moments (namely, most of Keiko's scenes, which lack the emotional punch one would expect). The O'Brien/Bashir interaction is great, redefining the two characters as the most verbally interesting pair on the series--or maybe a close second behind Garak/Bashir. Bashir's backstory comes off particularly believable this time around, supplying the character with a depth beyond what has been explored to date. O'Brien's dialog about family life is also adeptly written. Basically, this show works because it puts two actors in a room, gives them some believable things to say, and the performances deliver. Keiko's investigation that leads her to suspect the forgery is somewhat hokey and a little hard to swallow, but no matter; the surprisingly clever and understated action finale wraps things up nicely.

Rating:

Whispers -- Air date: 2/7/1994. Written by Paul Robert Coyle. Directed by Les Landau.

O'Brien returns from a security briefing to find everyone on the station acting strangely toward him. Before long, O'Brien suspects a far-reaching conspiracy that encompasses everyone on DS9 and possibly into Starfleet Command. His suspicions continue to mount as he discovers his activities constantly being monitored, his orders changed without his notification, and station security measures consistently shutting him out of the loop with no explanation or apparent reason. "Whispers" is an original take on the paranoid thriller, with expert scripting by Paul Robert Coyle, who creates unexpected twists, turns, and revelations that manage to plausibly build a sense that O'Brien is the only remaining individual who hasn't been "gotten to." The first-rate direction by Les Landau evokes a sense of altered reality in every scene, where characters seem to be only slightly different from what they should be, but different enough to seem threatening and to arouse our suspicions alongside O'Brien's. Told in flashback, the carefully constructed narrative relates the crew's inexplicable half-truths and cover-ups strictly through O'Brien's point of view. In one eerily photographed scene, O'Brien finds himself convinced that food his own wife prepared may be poisoned. Colm Meaney brings his usual credibility to the role, with a textured performance that highlights the character's ability to plan ahead, think on his feet, and attempt to set things right--even in the face of such bleak odds. Once O'Brien escapes the station, he finds what promises to unravel the mystery for us, which is when the story drops the unexpected twist on us: O'Brien is the conspirator--unwittingly--, a clone who honestly thinks he's O'Brien but has been programmed as an assassin by an alien government. The uncovering and death of the clone is unexpectedly tragic and moving--the irony of the old adage that "perhaps it's not everyone else who is ‘wrong,' but just you" couldn't be more clear. Other than the slightly dialog-heavy final scene, which feels a bit too much like it was written for the audience's benefit, this is a superbly envisioned episode that ranks among the most deftly constructed mysteries on Trek. The way the clues play toward the two different perspectives (both the false O'Brien's and the rest of the crew's) is brilliant.

Rating:

Paradise -- Air date: 2/14/1994. Teleplay by Jeff King and Richard Manning & Hans Beimler. Story by Jim Trombetta and James Crocker. Directed by Corey Allen.

When Sisko and O'Brien beam down to a planet, they find a human colony that has been stranded 10 years with no means of escape. The colonists have been forced to abandon all forms of technology, none of which work due to bizarre interference in the atmosphere. In what turns out to be more than a coincidence, the colony leader, Alixus (Gail Strickland), is a naturalist extremist who has always resented the effects technology has had on mankind ("We have become fat and lazy," she notes tellingly). She considers her technology-free community a shining achievement--never mind that many of her followers have died as a result of living in such an extreme environment without modern medicine or supplies. "Paradise's" intent seems to be allegory--making a statement about cult leadership and how strong opinions and followings can oppose the general consensus. But the social commentary is heavy-handed and only marginally effective; some of Alixus' long-winded speeches--particularly the one at the finale--ring false because they feel completely scripted. And considering how unlikable Alixus ultimately comes off, it's hard to see her as much more than a villain, albeit with a sincere motive. Still, on that level, "Paradise" works quite well. Alixus and Sisko almost instantly fall into conflict. She's set on absorbing Sisko and O'Brien into her community, adamant on quickly and completely forcing them into her way of life. Her methodology of torture in the face of any threat to the community's well-being--the simple and appropriate "hot box"--prove she will do anything for her ideals. Like it or not, Alixus is a villain, although a three dimensional one surrounded by some intelligent issues. Sisko's adamant opposition and strength in the face of such a situation is commendable, and both Brooks and Meaney deliver solid performances. I have some problems with the colonists' over-simplified reactions to finding out Alixus planned both their marooning and the deletion of technology, but the grey-area polemics make the Sisko/Alixus hero/villain conflict that much more interesting.

Rating:

Shadowplay -- Air date: 2/21/1994. Written by Robert Hewitt Wolfe. Directed by Robert Sheerer.

This episode is an amiable outing character-wise, but rather pedestrian and all too disconnected. Odo and Dax beam down to a planet only to find a small community of humanoids who are disappearing one by one. Surprisingly early in the story, it's revealed that the entire community--people and all--is an elaborate holographic simulation, and that people are vanishing because of the projector's malfunctions. The premise makes for an obvious definition-of-life analysis (since these holograms are all sentient)--which, fortunately isn't stressed in the slightest. Instead, the writers choose to develop a surprisingly affecting friendship between Odo and the young girl, Taya (Noley Thornton). Watching the softer side of Odo emerge is pleasant, and a final scene where Odo morphs himself into a top is, well, quite cute. The plot, however, is more or less perfunctory. Will Odo and Dax repair the projector and save the village? Are there stars in the sky? Also present is a somewhat unfinished B-story involving a romance between Kira and Bareil. And then there's the C-story involving Jake coming to terms with telling his father that he doesn't want to join Starfleet like the old man. These character moments are pretty much all effective. But there's probably one storyline too many, and the episode is so unfocused--endlessly switching back and forth between the three stories--that it gets hard to become particularly engrossed in any of them. "Shadowplay" is light and slight.

Rating:

Playing God -- Air date: 2/28/1994. Teleplay by Jim Trombetta and Michael Piller. Story by Jim Trombetta. Directed by David Livingston.

In an episode with a split personality that's probably even worse than "The Alternate's," Dax is assigned a Trill "initiate," Arjin (Geoffrey Blake), who she must help guide to the next step in the Trill symbiont-joining candidacy by offering her experience as a joined Trill. In the confines of this same character-oriented episode is a completely inappropriate plot centering around a "proto-universe," which Arjin and Dax inadvertently bring back from the Gamma Quadrant. The proto-universe begins expanding, putting DS9 and (presumably) the entire Alpha Quadrant in danger of being destroyed--an overly large story idea that ends up making relatively little sense. Sisko decides he can't justify destroying a universe to save his own, so an alternate plan (putting Arjin's flight skills and plenty of technobabble to use, naturally) is concocted. The idea of an entire miniature universe with its own civilizations isn't bad in and by itself, and it even brings up some effectively interesting moments to ponder (Sisko's log about the Borg, first and foremost). But some non-addressed questions arise, like, for starters, how returning the proto-universe to "where it belongs" will keep it from expanding and wiping out the Gamma Quadrant (and beyond), and just how Sisko can have the arrogance to make a decision about the "universe" in a mere hour. In any case, the whole premise of pondering the nature of universes doesn't at all belong in this small episode of character interaction, which, in a vacuum, is a good one. The writers supply Dax with some reasonable backstory, with the humorous notion that Curzon Dax was notorious for washing initiates--including Jadzia herself--out of the joining program. ("I'm not Curzon," Jadzia constantly reminds Arjin). The Sisko/Dax relationship is put to good use again with a believable dialog scene. Arjin turns out to be a fairly interesting character, and the dialog between him and Dax is nicely written. But forcing the tech plot and character story together is a mistake that the writers have already made too many times this season.

Rating:

Profit and Loss -- Air date: 3/21/1994. Written by Flip Kobler & Cindy Marcus. Directed by Robert Wiemer.

Running from their own government, three Cardassians seek refuge on DS9, and it turns out that one of the Cardassians--a woman named Natima (Mary Crosby)--is an old lover of Quark's, who left years ago on rather bad terms. "Profit and Loss" is a mess of an episode, with convenient turns in the plot that border on storytelling fraud. The episode is really about the relationship between Natima and Quark, but the completely underwritten plot surrounding the reasons Natima has come to the station--to protect two of her students (Michael Reilly Burke and Heidi Swedberg) who are wanted by Cardassian officials--makes surprisingly little sense, especially under any form of scrutiny. They're part of a movement that is "going against" the Central Command, but their motives and goals are so vaguely scripted that it ultimately means nothing. Then there are the gaping plot holes, like just how Odo would have the arbitrary power to release the wanted Cardassians against an agreement the Bajoran government made with the Cardassian government (whether it's in the name of "justice" or not). There's also the scene where Garak gets away with vaporizing Gul Toran (Edward Wiley) on board the station without so much as a peep from security. None of this is remotely believable. Character-wise, it was also tough to swallow most scenes featuring Quark and Natima. The first two acts feature Natima scornfully refusing to acknowledge Quark because of something devious he did in the past. Fine. But then, after the scene where she phasers him, her character makes a blatant about-face that practically invites incredulity. Their subsequent scenes are overplayed to the point of soap opera melodrama. The "chemistry" here couldn't be any more forced. The episode's sole saving grace is Garak, who supplies his usual wit, particularly in one unforgettable dialog scene where he uses "tailor allegory" to explain to Quark the nature of Natima's political intrigue. An amusing scene between Quark and Odo is also on the right track. But they're isolated moments in a severely botched episode.

Rating:

Blood Oath -- Air date: 3/28/1994. Written by Peter Allan Fields. Directed by Winrich Kolbe.

Back when Dax was Curzon Dax, he became friends with some Klingons while serving his diplomatic duty. Later, those Klingons fell into discord with a shady character known only as "The Albino." The Albino swore vengeance upon the first born of each of the Klingons--and kept his promise, killing the infants with a deadly virus. Among the murdered was Curzon's godson. Along with the three Klingons, Curzon took a blood oath to avenge the deaths of the children. Now reunited on DS9, the three Klingons, Kor (John Colicos), Kang (Michael Ansara), and Koloth (William Campbell), find Jadzia, who must now struggle with the moral dilemma of keeping her oath and helping kill the Albino, or sticking to her nonviolent Federation values. "Blood Oath" is an irresistibly entertaining hour of Trek that has two levels and works splendidly on both of them. On one side, it's a lively warrior tale with lots of believable Klingon culture. The three old Klingons (reprising TOS roles from decades earlier) are always a pleasure to watch. In particular, Colicos' turn as Kor, the lighthearted of the bunch, is a joy, and has some wonderful scenes. The other side of the episode is Jadzia's dilemma, which takes on surprisingly deep and serious power--especially in a probing scene where Kira pulls Dax aside and offers some insightfully solemn words about killing. Difficult as it may seem, Fields' even-handed teleplay skillfully weaves the pulse-pounding glory of battle together with the negative connotations of violence--resulting is a very entertaining and interesting episode. The plot moves along nicely and plausibly, the characterizations are flawless, and the stylized action scene in the final act features an impressive scope. I think Jadzia gets off a little easy in not having to make the final choice of whether or not to kill the Albino (Bill Bolender), but the wordless coda where she returns to DS9 to find a scornfully silent Sisko and Kira is beautifully done.

Rating:

The Maquis, Part I -- Air date: 4/25/1994. Teleplay by James Crocker. Story by Rick Berman & Michael Piller & Jeri Taylor and James Crocker. Directed by David Livingston.

The terrorist bombing of a Cardassian supply ship brings to Sisko's and Dukat's attention armed skirmishes between the Federation and Cardassian colonies that reside, respectively, in the other side's areas of the demilitarized zone (due to a recently signed treaty put into effect in TNG's "Journey's End"). The Federation colonists live in constant fear of Cardassian oppression and, at times, blatant assault. As a result, they've taken up arms and formed a terrorist organization called the Maquis--which has led the Cardassian colonies to return hostilities. The terrorism brings one of Sisko's good friends to DS9 to help diffuse the situation: Cal Hudson (Bernie Casey), a Starfleet commander in charge of overseeing the Federation colonies. "The Maquis" is one of the great examples of complicated political situations that define DS9 as a series. Filled with intriguing plot developments (including weapons smuggling on both sides and the eventual kidnapping of Gul Dukat) and a multitude of characters, "Maquis, Part I" shows all the signs of a slowly percolating situation that will eventually become one of the series' several defining plot lines. Of particular interest is the extremely interesting role of Gul Dukat in the given situation, as well as his evolving function on the series. Sisko and Dukat are infinitely watchable as reluctant co-investigators, and they have two key scenes in this episode that are marvelous: one in Sisko's quarters, the other in a Runabout. The amount of depth that Dukat's character takes on is welcome and highly commendable, changing his image into something far more subtle and complex than that of a villain. Marc Alaimo's performance is multifaceted--revealing unexpected low-key humor and then turning on a dime to exhibit a menacing persona. Also of high interest is a great heated argument between Kira and Sisko regarding the Federation colonists' decision to resort to such violent terrorism. Surprisingly, the least effective scenes are the ones between Sisko and Hudson; Bernie Casey's wooden performance misses the mark and somewhat mars some important--and otherwise powerful--dialog scenes of exposition.

Rating:

The Maquis, Part II -- Air date: 5/2/1994. Teleplay by Ira Steven Behr. Story by Rick Berman & Michael Piller & Jeri Taylor and Ira Steven Behr. Directed by Corey Allen.

In "Maquis II," Sisko finds that his long-time friend Cal Hudson has sided with the Maquis, intending to destroy a Cardassian weapons depot suspected of supplying the aggressive Cardassian colonies with armaments that have been used against the Federation settlements. An extremely intelligent and often powerful continuation in the Maquis saga, the storyline benefits from solid plot developments (the dealings between Quark and the Vulcan trader are well-written and sensible) and good uses of the characters. This episode's most fascinating selling point is the way it puts Sisko in the tough bind: He finds admirals breathing down his neck to rectify the situation; he's forced into divided loyalties between his now-Maquis friend Cal and his duty to Starfleet; and the possibility of further violence erupting because of these skirmishes remains a possibility. An early scene sets the tone when Sisko convinces himself of the reality of the Maquis' motives and frustrations--with a particularly apt observation that Starfleet's blind eye has been masked by the paradise of Earth they see every time they look out the window. Sisko's decisions here make him a complex hero--a man who has to utilize careful decision-making as his tool for dealing with the Maquis threat. The rift between Sisko and Hudson has a strong emotional undercurrent--though it's once again somewhat undermined by Bernie Casey's wooden, dispassionate performance. On the other hand, there's always the reliable Marc Alaimo, whose turn as Gul Dukat--a man of pride, arrogance, keen observation, and sincere intensity--is a constant pleasure to watch in action. A delicious scene in a Runabout features Dukat dismantling the will of a cargo ship captain by using the sheer power of his attitude. Indeed, Dukat emerges "Maquis" as one of the most fascinating and dimensional recurring characters the series retains. The finale is also gripping--with the unsettling sight of two Starfleet officers (Sisko and Hudson) firing on one another's ships--and it features some slick special effects. "The Maquis" is really good stuff--and not the last Maquis storyline by far.

Rating:

The Wire -- Air date: 5/9/1994. Written by Robert Hewitt Wolfe. Directed by Kim Friedman.

"The Wire" is one of the season's most focused character shows, featuring plot elements that actually tie into the real story (rather than sabotaging the main drive of the drama as episodes like "Alternate" and "Playing God" did). It's also the long-awaited episode that strongly hints at (although doesn't fully reveal) the mysterious backstory of "plain, simple Garak." The mystery begins to unravel when an anti-torture device implanted in Garak's brain begins to malfunction, putting his life in jeopardy. The only option is to remove the implant, which means unavoidable withdrawal symptoms because of Garak's physical dependency on the implant's effects. But this story isn't about the life-or-death struggle; it's about Garak's mysterious exile and what the exile has done to him emotionally. He's a tortured person in an environment he finds contemptible, and only the implant has allowed him to retain the calm, amiable surface. But without the implant, Garak's dark side emerges. The premise is fundamentally simple, and that's why it works: Just confine some good actors to a room and reveal the inner truths of the characters (if Garak's lies can be called truths). Andrew Robinson's performance is a powerhouse with versatility. But nor should El Fadil's turn as the puzzled but doggedly determined Bashir be overlooked. A powerful direction by Kim Friedman, who slowly builds the dramatic intensity in gutsy crescendos, adds mood and atmosphere. The intentionally vague backstory reveals the possibility for countless dark chapters in Garak's past; he was clearly involved with the nefarious Obsidian Order, the all-knowing "Big Brother"-type intelligence organization of Cardassia. Garak's lapses into fury and pain lead him to reveal to Bashir several reasons that "explain" why he was exiled--though he dissembles and changes his story so many times that it's impossible for Bashir (or us) to know what's a lie and what's the truth. Eventually, Bashir goes to the retired Enabran Tain (Paul Dooley)--the former head of the Obsidian Order--for answers to Garak's condition, and finds some interesting insights about Garak in the process. There's a lot of interesting substance about Garak and the Cardassian mentality in this story, though it's hard to know exactly what to make of it. But that's the point. Some puzzles are supposed to remain unsolved, and Garak--as well as Enabran Tain in his showcase scene--is such a fascinating puzzle to watch unfold on the screen that it's enlightening whether we get all the answers or not.

Rating:

Crossover -- Air date: 5/16/1994. Teleplay by Peter Allan Fields and Michael Piller. Story by Peter Allan Fields. Directed by David Livingston.

Kira and Bashir cross into a parallel universe (the same one that Kirk crossed into in the TOS outing "Mirror, Mirror") to find humanity enslaved by the allied Klingons, Cardassians, and Bajorans--ironically enough, because Kirk led the "Terrans" to give up their violent ways, thus leaving them defenseless to the chaos of their neighbors. Kira finds herself face to face with her own counterpart, the evil Intendant Kira, who commands the station. "Crossover" is a superb episode of unique style and attitude. The extremely neat-looking sets and lighting are dark and brooding. And David Livingston's first-rate direction utilizes freedom with some fresh perspectives; canted camera and low-angle shots add a welcome sense of unreality. The characterizations can best be described as "brilliant." Nana Visitor's take on the mirror Kira creates a sexy, venomous persona with a healthy dose of narcissism and an intriguing subtext of lesbianism. She's spoiled, ruthless, and fearsome, but still has a respect for life and no love for violence. Meanwhile, Garak is the station's first officer--vindictive and power-hungry. Odo is absolutely hateful and brutal (with "Rules of Obedience" that can earn one a slap in the face for disobeying). Quark turns out to be noble (!), but is executed for helping Terrans escape the slave station. Then there's Avery Brooks' astounding performance as the alternate Sisko--an apathetic, self-serving, charismatic scumbag of a pirate who curries favor with the Intendant by running errands for her (among other things). Mirror Sisko is so watchable for all the wrong reasons; he's truly an antithesis of the real Sisko. The plot to "Crossover" is fairly simple (Kira and Bashir must escape this universe before they're destroyed by its chaos), with a few interesting plots twists. It's meaty and involving, plunging humanity into the depths of despair. The mirror O'Brien gives the episode a full sense of credibility with a scene that says it all: If history had been just a little bit different, how would he--and all of humanity--have turned out? That's what makes "Crossover" a real winner. Ask yourself: Based on the way the characters are played in this episode, isn't it possible that the real DS9 characters we know could've been capable of what their counterparts are here--provided history gave them the unlucky draw?

Rating:

The Collaborator -- Air date: 5/23/1994. Teleplay by Gary Holland and Ira Steven Behr & Robert Hewitt Wolfe. Story by Gary Holland. Directed by Cliff Bole.

On the eve of the election for Bajor's new Kai, Vedek Winn suspects Vedek Bareil of being a Cardassian collaborator and recruits Kira to help her find the truth. Kira--who is in love with Bareil--finds herself in a very difficult bind where her personal feelings are at odds with her duty to Bajor and the truth. I like seeing characters put through the wringer like this; it's a good way to see emotional performances emerge, and Nana Visitor is one of the most credible and effective when it comes to projecting emotion onto the screen. There's never a question of whether Kira will find the truth or not; it's more a question of what she will find, and how she'll react emotionally to it. The plot's twists and turns are probing, bringing up the issue of how to deal with Bajorans who sold themselves out to the Cardassians, and, further, looking at the reasons why people would be tempted to do such things. Odo makes a keen observation when he notes that in extreme circumstances everybody is capable of terrible things. (Was he referring to Kira's murder in "Necessary Evil"?) Vedek Winn's political intrigue takes the character in some unexpected directions, particularly when she declares "peace" with Sisko in a scene that makes one wonder if she's being sincere or merely self-serving. Similarly, her belief that Bareil could be a collaborator gives her the perfect opportunity to milk the situation to her political advantage--yet her motives somehow seem deeper and more sincere than her superficial arrogance and condescending persona let on. Kira's investigation takes her where she doesn't want to go--straight to proof that Bareil did help the Cardassians destroy a rebel base. His noble motives were to save Bajoran lives--an admission that will still cost him his political career. A last-minute twist privately confounds the situation even further, showing Bareil as a truly honorable man. If there's a subtext flowing through here, it certainly highlights how brutal and painful the Occupation was, even apart from the often-explored issues of killing.

Rating:

Tribunal -- Air date: 6/6/1994. Written by Bill Dial. Directed by Avery Brooks.

Miles and Keiko O'Brien's vacation is interrupted when the Cardassians arrest O'Brien from his Runabout and throw him in a cell--following a brutal prisoner processing procedure. They offer him no explanation of the charges against him; they simply leave him confined to a cell for days, awaiting his trial. This episode depicting the Cardassian legal system has shades of Orwell and 1984 everywhere. The themes running through "Tribunal" are less than subtle, but effective nonetheless. They show a man's futile plight in a society that has already sealed his fate. The Cardassians tell O'Brien that his guilt has already been determined; the trial is merely a display for the public's benefit. The notion that the trial system has been designed strictly to give the public the feeling that "justice is being served"--even in the face of blatantly false accusations--is a chilling prospect. O'Brien's frustration is completely understandable, as is Odo's, who takes advantage of his membership to the Cardassian court by getting himself appointed as O'Brien's legal advisor. The dark lighting and decidedly Orwellian images (the high architecture of the trial room and large public viewscreens) supply the episode with large and intense visual splendor. Particularly intense is the aforementioned surreal "processing" scene, which highlights Avery Brooks' effectiveness in his freshman directing turn on DS9. Colm Meaney delivers another strong performance, particularly in a standout scene between him and Constable Odo. Surprisingly, a few moments of unexpected humor finds its way into the darkness of the trial when Kovat, O'Brien's Cardassian defense attorney (Fritz Weaver), exhibits an ironic role of uselessness to the client but dedicated service to the state. Neat. The overall impact of the episode is blunted, unfortunately, by a rather convenient and ineffective deus ex machina ending, but the imagery and dramatic undercurrents of the Cardassian legal proceedings are far too strong to be undermined.

Rating:

The Jem'Hadar -- Air date: 6/13/1994. Written by Ira Steven Behr. Directed by Kim Friedman.

Hoping to spend some quality time with his son, Sisko takes Jake on a survey of a Gamma Quadrant planet. Quark and Nog come along--Nog as a friend and partner in Jake's science project, Quark to suck up to Sisko in a poor attempt to convince the commander to let him sell merchandise on the station monitors. The pairing of Sisko and Quark is at the very least lively, and some of the Federation/Ferengi polemics that arise are actually relevant. While on this planet, Sisko and Quark encounter and are promptly imprisoned by the Jem'Hadar--the menacing foot soldiers of the nefarious Gamma Quadrant organization called the Dominion. Apparently, the Dominion considers ships coming through the wormhole as violation of their territory. "The Jem'Hadar" is "comic book DS9" in many ways. This isn't nearly as substantive as most of second season DS9. The Dominion is large and foreboding, and the plot consists of mostly action scenes and a prison-break premise. But this is good comic book DS9. It's fun, but it's also pretty intense at times, especially when a Jem'Hadar soldier visits the station and supplies Kira with a list of ships the Dominion has destroyed--along with news that they have decimated the New Bajor colony in the Gamma Quadrant. (Nana Visitor's performance sells the scene more than anything else.) Meanwhile, Jake and Nog attempt to pilot the Runabout back to the station themselves, with little success. The idea of "teenagers flying the ship" is utilized for some great comic payoffs--Jake and Nog have always been fun to watch when they get in over their heads. The episode ends with the best battle scene the series has attempted to date. A Jem'Hadar kamikaze that destroys the Galaxy-class USS Odyssey is quite visceral. The episode is mostly high adventure and comedy, and it works well. (And stuff gets blowed up real good, too.) With the introduction of the Dominion, the series adds yet another element to its canvas which will fuel many stories to come.

Rating:

Part 2: Season Analysis

And so here are the questions: Season two of Deep Space Nine--what was it? How can it best be summarized? What are my "themes" of the season? I'll attempt to answer the broad questions fully but also try to keep it brief (yeah right).

Season two is not the best season of DS9 (season five's extremely involving, intertwined plot arcs still earn it that title), but it was an outstanding season overall, and definitely one of the better seasons in both DS9's run and the Trek canon. I'd probably rank it second--right after fifth season and before the fourth. It's especially when stepping back to look at the large canvas in terms of the entire series that second season's strengths and importance become clear.

The reasons for DS9's success this season can be traced to (1) the amount of pivotal impact and relevance its stories had to the major plot lines as they continued to unfold in subsequent seasons, and (2) how deeply the season fleshed out the characters. This season is almost without a doubt the most important in character terms. The true relationships between everybody began to feel completely real. And with the possible exception of Quark, the DS9 personas were given new dimensions that were previously unseen in the series' freshman season. At the same time, these characterizations grew out of what we knew of each person.

For example, the relationship of mutual respect between Odo and Kira really began to take on a subtle power that hadn't been explored in season one. Especially powerful were the issues of trust and betrayal in "Necessary Evil" (still one of the series' best installments) and even hints of buried feelings in "The Collaborator." I still maintain that this was the best point in the Kira/Odo relationship--later episodes have tried to make this into a romantic issue, but the stuff of season two involving loyalty and friendship was simply more powerful in its portrayal.

But not to get off the subject by discussing subsequent seasons, the types of stories this season were extremely conducive for substantive character building. It was a point where the show was new enough to still tell us plenty fresh about the characters, but was experienced enough to know what logical directions to take them. A prime example also showed itself in "Homecoming," the season premiere. Kira and Sisko exhibited a very believable dialog that really felt like interaction between a Starfleet officer with one problem and a Bajoran representative with another. Characters who had remained sketchy in season one were given very strong development. Garak's big vehicles, "The Wire" and "Cardassians" managed to keep his motives as enigmatic as ever, but offered great insight into the way he thinks and acts--turning him into one of the most interesting people of the ensemble. Similarly, Gul Dukat was provided great depth and shades of grey in the "Maquis" two-parter; as three-dimensional as he still remains, I don't believe I've seen the character grow any more three dimensional than he did this season. Also, Bajoran characters like Bareil and particularly Winn greatly benefited from shows that highlighted them. There was evolution in Winn to indicate that there's more to her persona than meets the eye, even if by the end of the season she was still as self-serving as when she was originally introduced.

Friendships like those of Bashir/O'Brien, Garak/Bashir, etc. provided good dialog. Watching characters act in tough situations (Odo in "Necessary Evil," O'Brien in "Whispers," and Sisko in the "Maquis" two-parter especially come to mind) unveiled a number of respectful qualities--intelligence, patience, duty, cleverness, and so forth. These types of virtues are things I like to see in my television heroes. There's also the backstory factor--Dax's past in "Playing God" and "Blood Oath" added unknown dimensions; Odo's reunion with Dr. Mora in "The Alternate" was downright brilliant; the confusing half-truths of Garak's past in "The Wire" was very enlightening, even if it was all supposition. Even the stunt pairing of Sisko and Quark in "The Jem'Hadar" shed some light on how Ferengi and humans views each other. The bottom line is that the characters benefited more in season two than any other season, so even if the rest of the season was a failure it would still hold that virtue.

But the rest of the season was most definitely not a failure. There were pivotal plots that were marvelously executed and defined most of the elements that would determine how the series would play from this point onward. The Bajoran political situations, though already present in season one, were greatly developed in the opening three-parter, as well as "The Collaborator" (in which Winn was elected as Kai). And, obviously, the introductions of the Maquis and the Dominion in the last third of the season would prove to have lasting consequences for seasons to come. It's not so much that the episodes created these conflicts that made them good, it's that the series did it with intelligence and style, putting the characters in troubling situations that allowed us to see how they think, feel, and respond (much more so with the Maquis than the Dominion, I should probably point out).

Of course, that's not to say this season was perfect, because it most certainly wasn't. While it probably sported fewer absolute "clunker" episodes than any other season of DS9 (no episode received fewer than two stars), and had long stretches of very strong shows (the opening stretch from the three-parter and the closing stretch from "Blood Oath" were extremely solid), there was a significant--and consistent--flaw that season two exhibited. I'm referring, of course, to what would have to be Split Personality Syndrome (SPS)--which I'm officially nominating as the theme for this part of the review. SPS was the uneasy clashing of A-stories and B-stories that severely undermined some otherwise excellent work. Let me count the ways it mucked up some (in most cases) good shows and turned them simply "average" (or mildly bad in the worst case): The pointless bad guy revenge plot in "Melora"; the sci-fi telepathic nonsense in "Second Sight"; the B-movie creature feature in "The Alternate"; the holograms-as-life retread in "Shadowplay" (though that's a mild case); and the appallingly misplaced proto-universe plot of "Playing God." This is a mistake that the writers made far too many times this season, and in far too consistent a fashion. As these examples all seem to indicate, if there's one undoing of a perfectly good main plot, it's a weak or inappropriate subplot. In a way, this makes DS9's entire second season a sort of split personality: Part of the season exhibited the SPS, while the other part of it didn't. The funny thing about SPS is that it's so blatantly obvious. In many cases, it's not that these episodes were weakened because of their own unique storytelling circumstances (though some like "Sanctuary," "Melora," "Profit and Loss," and "Rules of Acquisition" were). They were weakened because they had obvious problems in their basic narrative structure, which is rather odd considering how excellent the overall season was. Perhaps I'm the only one to notice this phenomenon? Perhaps I'm just crazy?

Ah, well. The final leg of episodes by far more than made up for the unevenness of the season's middle. The consistent success of the last nine episodes remains the longest running streak of winners I've seen on a Trek series. And not only did the season add to DS9's collection of good Treks, it was the genesis for some of the series' most relevant issues.

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