"Evolution" -- Air date: 9/25/1989. Teleplay by Michael Piller. Story by Michael Piller & Michael Wagner. Directed by Winrich Kolbe.

An obsessed scientist on a deadline. A science project by Wesley Crusher run awry. The Enterprise computer on the fritz. An alien influence misunderstood. A crisis in which the Enterprise is potentially threatened. And a solution that embraces humanism and cooperation and never cynicism or brute aggression.

Yes, all the pieces are here for a restrained season opener that utilizes every typical element that embodies the TNG story ethic. It's routine almost to a fault, but if you can't respect this episode for what it is, then you probably can't respect TNG for what it stands for.

Wesley finds that his science project -- in which he combined two types of nanites (microscopic robots) to improve their functionality, resulting in an unintended AI evolution -- may be the cause of a series of computer malfunctions not unlike the ones seen in "Contagion." The malfunctions are threatening (in addition to the Enterprise, ultimately) the life work of Dr. Stubbs (Ken Jenkins), who is supposed to observe a stellar phenomenon that happens only once every two centuries.

The story is reminiscent of first season's "Home Soil" in its interest in studying, documenting, and communicating with a new inorganic life form. The nanites are a neat idea, although I have a problem with the notion of such dangerous AI technology being so readily available to anyone, let alone a teenager. There's also the issue of how quickly and easily computer hardware here becomes a sentient civilization, and whether this story revelation represents a can of worms. (I'm reminded of the "mimetic symbiont" used to clone Trip in Enterprise's "Similitude.")

The show also has time for some palatable character touches. Dr. Crusher has returned, and finds that she doesn't quite know who her son has become as a 17-year-old. Also, Stubbs is depicted not simply as an obsessed scientist but a man whose life meaning is on the line. During his downtime, he plays entire baseball seasons in his head. He has a nice little speech about how the death of baseball came at the hands of a society that no longer had the patience for it. Given this episode and Sisko in DS9, you conclude that Michael Piller must've been a baseball fan.

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"The Ensigns of Command" -- Air date: 10/2/1989. Written by Melinda M. Snodgrass. Directed by Cliff Bole.

The Sheliak, who consider humans to be beneath them, order the removal of a human colony from a planet that, in accordance with the Federation/Sheliak treaty, they own. The colony of 15,000 was unknown to the Federation, and is made up of the descendants of a Federation vessel that crashed there more than a century ago. The Sheliak intend to colonize the planet in four days; they will likely eradicate the population if the Enterprise does not remove it.

One of the appeals of "Ensigns" is its two-tiered plot structure, in which both storylines document the problem-solving methods in an uphill climb to fix a mess of a situation before the ticking clock expires. Picard must figure out how to negotiate more time from the hopelessly obstinate Sheliak, while Data must figure out how to convince the prideful (and perhaps equally hopelessly obstinate) colonists to give up their homes and leave.

The results are mixed. This is a competent TNG story, but it has some evident problems in execution. Most notable is the depiction of the colonists in their extended dealings with Data. While Data's assignment gives him a new challenge (figuring out how to improvise while working a problem that requires extensive knowledge of human nature), a lot of these scenes simply don't work because of the belabored drama. The talky grandstanding of this kind of TNG effort requires actors that can rise to the challenge. Grainger Hines as Gosheven, the wrongheaded leader of the colony, is a wooden actor that sinks many of these scenes. In fact, a lot of the guest performances in these scenes are misfires. Data's interactions with Ard'rian (Eileen Seeley) are merely adequate.

Faring slightly better are Picard's dealings with the extremely inflexible Sheliak (whose homeworld is appropriately dubbed "Sheliak Corporate"); they continuously hang up on Picard when he tries to talk to them. Picard's bureaucratic solution to the bureaucratic problem makes for a truly funny and satisfying payoff.

Meanwhile, the scenes on the colony build to an effective demonstration of action by Data, but the ending only underlines (1) the obvious lack of communication up to that point and (2) the apparent stupidity of Gosheven and the colonists. Simply put, if the colonists know what a starship is (and they do), they should understand what kind of threat is looming without Data having to prove it.

Rating:

"The Survivors" -- Air date: 10/9/1989. Written by Michael Wagner. Directed by Les Landau.

"The Survivors" is one of TNG's most unsung gems -- a slowly building sci-fi mystery that thinks big while all the time going to painstaking efforts to keep the drama small and intimate. It starts as the mystery of two people and slowly and implacably marches toward a revelation that's haunting and universe-shaking in its exceptionally quiet way.

The Enterprise races to answer a distress call from the colony at Rana IV; when they arrive, they find the world has been completely destroyed by an unknown alien attack. There are no survivors ... except for Kevin and Rishon Uxbridge (John Anderson and Anne Haney), whose house and a few acres of land have survived the complete scorching of the rest of the planet's surface. Why has this elderly couple survived while the rest of the 11,000 colonists perished?

This story belongs to a subgenre that might best be called "Twilight Zone Trek." Strange things are afoot. The Uxbridges say they do not know why they were spared, but Kevin is obviously hiding something. He's adamant that Picard and the Federation simply leave them alone. An unknown, heavily armed, and mean-looking alien vessel appears and attacks the Enterprise. Its actions are erratic. Troi begins hearing a repeating song in her mind that gets louder and louder and will not go away. Her disturbed mental state starts off as a small, percolating problem, but like the rest of the episode, it slowly and steadily builds until her mental anguish pushes her to insanity.

This story is pitch-perfect in tone. The behavior and method of the attacks from the alien vessel hint that its real goal is simply to coax the Enterprise away from Rana. The clues lead us to the inevitable truth that all of this has to do with Kevin and his pacifist stance when the aliens attacked the colony. Why didn't he fight when the rest of the colony was trying to defend itself? All the answers lie in a revelation that is truly one of TNG's more unsettling concepts: Kevin is actually a superbeing called a Douwd, capable of boundless power, but assuming human identity to live with his human wife Rishon. He put the music in Troi's head to keep her from learning the truth: Great power requires great restraint, which Kevin exercised until Rishon was killed in the attack, at which point he lashed out and killed the Husnock -- not just the attackers, but the entire race of 50 billion. Kevin's confession is a stunning revelation of frightening power, profound individual guilt, and audacious sci-fi imagination. If you stop and think about a being with cosmic power like that, humanity seems but a speck of insignificance.

For once, there's no humanistic preaching that Picard can possibly make. Concerning a being of such limitless power, Picard simply concludes, "We are not qualified to be your judge." The episode ends with one of Picard's most memorable voice-over logs: "We leave behind a being of extraordinary power and conscience. I'm not sure whether he should be praised or condemned -- only that he should be left alone."

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"Who Watches the Watchers" -- Air date: 10/16/1989. Written by Richard Manning & Hans Beimler. Directed by Robert Wiemer.

An anthropological research station overlooking a primitive society called the Mintakans suffers a catastrophic malfunction that allows the holographically shrouded station to become visible to its Mintakan subjects. A Mintakan named Liko (Ray Wise) witnesses the Enterprise's ensuing rescue mission and is critically injured in a fall. Rather than letting him die, Crusher beams him aboard, repairs his injuries, and erases his short-term memory. The memory wipe doesn't take, and Liko tells the story of what he witnessed aboard the Enterprise to his fellow Mintakans. He believes "the Picard" is a god who gave him back his life.

As an episode that dramatizes the purpose of the Prime Directive and the dangers of cultural contamination, "Who Watches the Watchers" is perhaps definitive. The question of whether you can study something without running the risk of affecting the results is answered here by a series of accidents that ultimately suggests an entire religion could eventually be formed around "the Picard" as based on Liko's experience.

But this episode is also definitive as an example of short-changing a concept by way of extreme microcosm. An entire planet's culture (and this has frequently been one of my complaints about Trek) is represented based solely on a dozen villagers who seem more like isolated nomads than part of a real, larger society. Meanwhile, characters in this story make sweeping assumptions that are almost absurd in their broadness. The idea that Liko's experience will "inevitably" lead to a religion worshipping Picard strikes me as an unlikely conclusion given what we know about the Mintakans. Surely there must be other societal factors in play in order for a religion to take hold and flourish. One man speaking secondhand nonsense cannot change the world.

For that matter, this episode's take on religion seems awfully simplistic. While it would be against the Prime Directive to allow Picard to be seen as a god, Picard has a speech here that seems to be against religion at all. The Mintakans left behind their supernatural beliefs generations ago, and Picard sees that as an achievement from the "dark ages" which he does not intend to allow they return to. Of course, there's no mention of the status of human religion. (I suppose the 20th century was still the "dark ages" because of all the silly human religious beliefs that persisted?)

In the latter acts, Picard tries to convince Nuria (Kathryn Leigh Scott) that he is not a god but simply part of a society that has more knowledge. This concept seems to arise from a what-if premise: What if you could show a person from 2,000 years ago what the world looks like today? The story does its best to create a sense of wonder in this, but never quite reaches takeoff velocity.

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"The Bonding" -- Air date: 10/23/1989. Written by Ronald D. Moore. Directed by Winrich Kolbe.

During a routine archeological mission commanded by Worf, Lt. Aster (Susan Powell) is killed by a land mine from a long-forgotten war. She leaves behind a 12-year-old son on the Enterprise, Jeremy (Gabriel Damon), whose father is also dead. The command staff must break the news to Jeremy and deal with the aftermath.

"The Bonding" is the episode that Ronald D. Moore famously sold as a spec script, which ultimately led to him being hired as a writer on TNG. It's got some of the hallmarks of Moore in it (real-world military issues, Klingon customs), but it's also got a number of Trek cliches (fantasy versus reality, aliens with remarkable powers). As these things go, the episode is on the upper end of mediocrity.

The show is best when it confronts head-on the fact that a starship can be a dangerous place where people die. It also confronts the issue of children being on board the ship. At one point, Picard says flat-out that he has always had his doubts about it. The best scenes involve Worf, who must deal with the fact that someone has died under his command. His scene at the end with Jeremy, where they undergo the Klingon bonding ritual, has a mildly intriguing resonance. Other reasonable scenes feature the inclusion of Wesley in Jeremy's grieving process; Wesley approaches the situation from personal experience.

But the show is worst when it's (too frequently) documenting the mysterious alien presence, which appears to Jeremy as his mother and supplies him with a fantasy that re-creates a pleasant memory. You can feel the air going out of the story when Jeremy's dead mother suddenly returns, as if she were a ghost. (Aliens as dead people = silly and boring. Susan Powell's performance = wooden and ineffective.) Fortunately, this premise is somewhat redeemed by its dialog. When it comes to exploring the human condition via long-winded philosophy, no one does it better than Picard, who has a decent speech about facing the realities that life deals us. But it's not enough to elevate a frequently lackluster hour.

Rating:

"Booby Trap" -- Air date: 10/30/1989.Teleplay by Ron Roman and Michael Piller & Richard Danus. Story by Michael Wagner & Ron Roman. Directed by Gabrielle Beaumont.

The Enterprise finds a 1,000-year-old relic adrift in an ancient debris field. Picard -- intrigued from a historical point of view -- eagerly leads an away team to tour the relic. He likens the ship to a ship in a bottle, which prompts an amusing dialog exchange. Picard: "Didn't anyone play with ships in bottles when they were boys?" Worf: "I did not play with toys." Data: "I was never a boy."

Once inside the debris field, however, the Enterprise is ensnared in an ancient booby trap that sucks power from its victims' ships and then uses that same power against them in the form of lethal radiation. An away team discovers that the crew of the relic suffered exactly that fate. Geordi must now race against the clock to find a way to escape the debris field before the crew is exposed to lethal radiation. He does this in the holodeck with a computerized composite of one of the ship's key designers, Dr. Leah Brahms (Susan Gibney).

"Booby Trap" is a good, geeky, technobabble episode. In classic TNG fashion, it is about working a problem and very little more. The technical jargon goes on and on; you sort of have to take it on faith that it has meaning. Actually, writing good technobabble takes a certain level of skill, because in between the meaningless terms a writer must insert a certain amount of tech that actually comes from the real world and is not arbitrary. The writers of this episode know that, because the technobabble manages to maintain a certain level of credibility.

The episode is also about Geordi facing romantic difficulties. He has trouble relating to women and tries too hard to impress them. Yeah, sounds like a nerd problem. Still, I've always found something slightly pathetic about this story's subtle message that the perfect woman for Geordi might be a holodeck character. Or perhaps it's just saying that nerds should date other nerds in their field. Funny -- you'd think a place like the Enterprise's engineering deck would be teeming with them. In that case, maybe it's a workplace sexual harassment issue.

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"The Enemy" -- Air date: 11/6/1989.Written by David Kemper and Michael Piller. Directed by David Carson.

An Enterprise away team investigates the crash of a Romulan vessel just inside Federation territory along the Neutral Zone. They discover an injured survivor (Steven Rankin) from the crash on the surface of the hellhole planet. A mishap causes Geordi to go missing on the mission, and the Enterprise is unable to locate him due to the violent electromagnetic storms. The heat is turned up under the entire situation when a Romulan Warbird commanded by Tomalak (Andreas Katsulas in what would become a semi-recurring role) ventures into the Neutral Zone and demands that Picard return the injured Romulan prisoner.

"The Enemy" is a perfect combination of multiple plot lines that come together to form a single coherent story. There are three interesting threads, which give the ensemble plenty to do, and all of which forward the overall plot. On the planet surface we've got Geordi stranded in a survival situation, which forces him to be innovative; there's a refreshingly dialog-free scene where Geordi must escape a pit by cleverly creating climbing spikes out of metallic ore fragments. Later, when Geordi is taken prisoner by Bochra (John Snyder), another Romulan crash survivor, their conversations provide a window into the Romulan mind. Ultimately, they must work together to survive and escape the planet surface -- a TNG solution, to be sure. Their method of escape involves typical TNG tech made interesting by the uneasy symbiotic relationship that Geordi and Bochra find themselves in.

Meanwhile, Riker gets refreshingly riled up over the mission going bad, and he doesn't want to take crap from the Romulans. Worf finds himself in a position where he is the only possible donor who can save the injured Romulan's life. The dilemma shows how bitter hatred can persist for generations, and I especially like how the story doesn't go all sentimental and give Worf a last-second change of heart. His refusal adds an interesting wrinkle to an already delicate situation. Picard stops short of ordering Worf to cooperate, which is an intriguing choice. Picard lets the cards fall where they may, and the Romulan dies.

With the diplomatic situation quickly deteriorating (including some effective tough-talk by Picard), Tomalak enters Federation space. The showdown between Picard and Tomalak generates true suspense; "The Enemy" deals with the issue of cold-war-style brinkmanship better than any TNG story I can immediately recall. Picard's risky gesture of trust to defuse the situation is a memorable one. The final solution is perhaps a bit pat, but the story earns its peaceful payoff by bringing together all the plot threads with commendable precision.

Rating:

"The Price" -- Air date: 11/13/1989. Written by Hannah Louise Shearer. Directed by Robert Scheerer.

The Enterprise hosts the negotiations for acquiring the custody rights of the only stable wormhole known to exist (prior to the discovery of the Bajoran wormhole in DS9, of course), discovered by the Barzan, whose representative (Elizabeth Hoffman) wants to sell it to whomever offers them the best benefits. The Federation sends their negotiator (Castulo Guerra) to the table while Geordi and Data venture into the wormhole to run tests and confirm its value.

Also at the negotiation table are the Ferengi (always annoying), and the Chrysalians, who are represented by Devinoni Ral (Matt McCoy), whose reputation as a brilliant negotiator precedes him. Ral and Troi fall in love at first sight, in swift romantic scenes that are earnest but less than believable (to say this relationship moves fast would be understatement of the year). Their connection might be explained by the fact that he is one-quarter Betazoid and has empathic abilities similar to hers, which might explain some of his success as a negotiator.

"The Price" is a passable episode because it strikes a workable balance between the Ral/Troi romance and the negotiations, and even ties the two together thematically. There's a good dinner-table dialog scene where Troi calls Ral out for unethically hiding the fact that he's a Betazoid, and Ral counter-challenges by calling Troi's own conduct into question. Meanwhile, Riker finds himself pushed into the negotiations when the Federation's negotiator is poisoned; an ensuing scene between him and Ral discusses the matter of Troi and ends in a way that sheds light on the way both Riker and Ral think.

Unfortunately, the presence of the Ferengi threaten to turn the whole thing into a farce. The Ferengi are too obnoxious to be entertaining, and too rude to be taken seriously as negotiators. That Picard allows them in the game at all is a testament to his acceptance of inappropriate behavior. When two of the Ferengi get stranded on the wrong side of the wormhole (which turns out not to be stable and thus, ironically, worthless), we're glad because that means there's two less Ferengi we have to see in the episode. Bringing such broad caricatures into an otherwise workable story is nothing short of sabotage.

Rating:

"The Vengeance Factor" -- Air date: 11/20/1989. Written by Sam Rolfe. Directed by Timothy Bond.

The Enterprise is pulled into mediating an agreement involving the Acamarians and their renegade subculture of "Gatherers" (a better word would be "pirates"), who broke off from mainstream Acamarian society a century ago and now live as criminal exiles. Acamarian leader Marouk (Nancy Parsons) reluctantly agrees to try to bring the Gatherers back into her society now that Acamarian life has given up its warlike ways.

Picard attempts to get everyone to sit down together at the negotiation table, but it won't be easy. The Gatherers open fire at the first sight of anyone that comes near their camp. The leader of this particular clan of Gatherers is Brull (Joey Aresco), who agrees to the negotiations. But there's also a murderer going around killing very specific Gatherer individuals, taking revenge (we eventually learn) in a long-ago blood feud. The killer, unbeknownst to everyone but us, is Yuta (Lisa Wilcox), who is Marouk's personal servant and also a young woman that Riker attempts to romance.

"The Vengeance Factor" is a borderline incoherent mess, with a plot that -- okay, it does hold together, but it's a really rough road to get there. There are too many characters and not enough investment in any of them. There is no clear line of drama, making it very difficult to become involved in the story. We get dull negotiation scenes, then lackluster romantic scenes, then halfhearted character scenes. The story initially makes much of Brull, an obnoxious vulgarian who is at first menacing and then kind of likable, and then he becomes irrelevant to the story and disappears. The "romantic" scenes between Riker and Yuta are awkward and ineffective. They serve only to set up the final act, in which Riker is tragically forced to kill Yuta to stop her from carrying out the story's titular vengeance factor. The story's message is acceptable. Its execution is not.

Rating:

"The Defector" -- Air date: 1/1/1990. Written by Ronald D. Moore. Directed by Robert Scheerer.

A Romulan scout ship, under attack from a pursuing Romulan Warbird, comes charging across the Neutral Zone. Its sole occupant, Setal (James Sloyan), desperately requests asylum, which the Enterprise grants. Setal claims that a secret Romulan base along the Neutral Zone is the site of a massive Romulan fleet poised for an invasion.

Ron Moore's second TNG script is a marked improvement over his first. "Defector" documents -- with high stakes and no shortage of fascinating twists and turns -- a consistently interesting battle of wits between the Romulans and Federation. In its third season, TNG has turned the Romulan Empire into a worthy nemesis that is as sneaky and cunning as it is aggressive and threatening.

The central question of this story is whether Setal is actually telling the truth, or if he is a Romulan spy trying to lure the Enterprise with false intelligence into illegally entering the Neutral Zone and starting a war. Setal is perfectly played by James Sloyan, who conveys the urgent sincerity of a man trying to prevent a war while at the same time playing a man who is still every bit Romulan at heart, from his love for his homeland to his hatred of the Klingons (he curses Worf in an early scene) to his acerbic, superior attitude. He's here because he wants to stop what he believes is a misguided offensive that will destroy his homeland, not because he wants to betray it. The plot thickens when Setal is revealed to actually be Admiral Jarok, a high-ranking official responsible for infamous attacks on the Federation.

Picard's dilemma is that he has no evidence of a Romulan invasion plot other than Jarok's word. Indeed, evidence suggests that the Romulans' pursuit of Jarok might have been staged entirely for the Enterprise's benefit. In a startlingly terrific scene, Picard pointedly gives Jarok a wake-up call, telling him that he's already a traitor to his people, no matter how much he may think he's trying to be a patriot, and that he should follow through on his intentions and give the Enterprise the information they need to investigate the allegation properly.

It all leads to a dangerous venture into the Neutral Zone, which leads to another interesting showdown with Tomalak. The Romulans' willingness to use Jarok as a patsy in this plan is diabolically devious -- one might say cruel -- and makes Jarok the tragic figure in a heartless chess game. Just when the Enterprise looks outmatched and outgunned, Picard has one last trick up his sleeve. The writers had cleverly sneaked in the crucial clue (about the cloaked Klingon escorts) just under the radar. This chess game ends in a stalemate that keeps war at bay.

Rating:

"The Hunted" -- Air date: 1/8/1990. Written by Robin Bernheim. Directed by Cliff Bole.

The Angosians, applying for Federation membership, invite the Enterprise crew to their world. The visit is cut short, however, when a dangerous prisoner escapes a high-security prison and attempts to flee the planet. After much effort (the prisoner is innovative and unyielding) the Enterprise stops the man, named Danar (Jeff McCarthy), and holds him in the brig. Danar says the Angosian government engineered him (and all the prisoners) to be perfect soldiers. With wartime over, they were all deemed dangerous and cast into these prisons to safeguard the rest of the population.

"The Hunted" has philosophical intentions. It asks questions like: Is it wrong to engineer people to be perfect killing machines to fight your wars, while hiding key facts from them? Is it wrong for the government to wash its hands of them after they are no longer needed to fight? Is imprisonment still imprisonment even if the facilities are comfortable? These are not particularly challenging questions, I'll grant. That's the problem; "The Hunted" is a little obvious.

The rest of the time, there's routine action on a TNG budget. Danar runs around the Enterprise causing hand phasers to overload and eluding Worf's security teams. Maybe Danar's really smart and strong, or maybe Worf's security teams are less than competent. You decide. I also did not understand how Danar escaped a transporter beam by causing an explosion from within it (without killing himself).

The episode ends with the typical TNG moralizing, where Picard gives a long-winded speech that is reasonable, yes, but talks down to the Angosians and, thus, us. The head of the government is played by James Cromwell as a bureaucrat who wants to close his eyes and pretend an obvious problem does not exist rather than trying to deal with it. There's a certain satisfaction in watching Picard wash his hands of a situation where the genie has been uncorked and now the Angosians must deal with the consequences. Frankly, they had it coming. But when you're reduced to laughing at a society for their wrongheaded mistakes, the story has become too simplistic.

Rating:

"The High Ground" -- Air date: 1/29/1990. Written by Melinda M. Snodgrass. Directed by Gabrielle Beaumont.

While on a mission of mercy delivering medical supplies to a war-torn world, Crusher is taken hostage into underground tunnels by Finn (Richard Cox), the leader of a terrorist group that commits frequent violence against the planet's functioning government and its civilians. With the kidnapping, Finn hopes to get the attention of the Federation and shine a spotlight on his cause, which he feels has long been ignored. Finn's methods start with kidnapping Crusher, and then he raises the stakes with an attempt to destroy the Enterprise by using untraceable (and fatal to its users, when used repeatedly) transporter technology to get aboard the ship and plant a bomb. When that fails, Finn kidnaps Picard.

"The High Ground" takes a surprisingly candid and surprisingly balanced look at the issue of terrorism from multiple points of view. Finn, while clearly taking violence to extremes that prove counter-productive even to his own cause, is not a cardboard madman. He wants his grievances heard; violence is merely his currency. At the same time, the episode does not condone or make excuses for his actions.

The episode also takes a hard look at those who attempt to fight terrorism -- what they do and why. One key point of view is from the head of the counterterrorism force, Alexana Devos (Kerrie Keane), who has had to deal with Finn's daily violence for years. She's become a hardliner, and her stance is understandable; she's trying to minimize violence in a war zone where civilians have become routine terrorist targets. But, for that matter, the civilians have also become routine targets for arrest for being sympathetic to the separatists; one shot shows a 12-year-old kid being hauled away as a suspected terrorist. This is a police-state society.

Caught in the middle is the Enterprise. Finn has an attention-getting speech about the Federation's willingness to supply the government with medical supplies while turning a blind eye to the separatists. Is he right? Not really, but it demonstrates how appearing to choose sides gets the Federation pulled into an otherwise obscure struggle that does not concern them.

This is one of those rare episodes of TNG where, by the end, essentially nothing has been solved. Sure, Crusher and Picard have been rescued, but the cycle of violence will continue, and the episode doesn't pretend that the situation can be fixed simply because the Enterprise was here or Picard came in and made a pithy speech.

Rating:

"Deja Q" -- Air date: 2/5/1990. Written by Richard Danus. Directed by Les Landau.

As the Enterprise attempts to correct the decaying orbit of a moon before it crashes into the populated planet below, Q appears, having been stripped of all his powers by the Q Continuum and made into a mortal human being. Having the choice of where to be banished, Q picked the Enterprise because of "all the fun we had in the past." Q now finds himself among a crew that doesn't like him, experiencing the very non-omnipotent lifestyle of a normal, limited human.

"Deja Q" is one of the rare attempts by TNG to do sustained comedy, and it might also be the most successful. Q as a fish out of water is a gimmick, to be sure, but it's a good one. John de Lancie has natural comic timing, and the story wisely pairs Q with Data for much of the show, which is an inspired choice. Not only is Data the perfect, endlessly patient straight man for Q's nonstop chatter, it allows the story to provide a running commentary on the human condition from the perspective of outsiders.

A successful comedy must also have sharp, funny dialog, which "Deja Q" has. In addition to all of Q's ongoing struggles with human banalities like sleeping and eating ("I'll have 10 chocolate sundaes"), we have the running joke that this formerly omnipotent being still takes omnipotence for granted. (His solution to the decaying moon orbit: "Change the gravitational constant of the universe." And he isn't kidding; he means it.) Q proves to be an insufferable man. We have scene after scene of Q's arrogance, boredom, and sarcasm. The secret to this working is that because of the way de Lancie plays him, Q is likable despite being a constant pain in the ass. (Q on not being able to get along with others: "It's hard to work well in groups when you're omnipotent.")

Even the peril -- and no TNG plot would be satisfied without peril -- is made amusing. (When Q is attacked by the Calamarain and Data saves him, Data lands on his side, like an object rather than a person, which is a likably goofy gag.) But what ultimately makes this episode work as well as it does is that it's actually about something -- Q and Data and their similar plights of trying to figure out what it means to be human while approaching that question from completely different points of view: Data as someone who wants to be human, and Q as someone who definitely does not.

Rating:

"A Matter of Perspective" -- Air date: 2/12/1990. Written by Ed Zuckerman. Directed by Cliff Bole.

"You're a dead man, Apgar! A dead man!" Ah, how I remember and cherish that line from when I first heard it 17 years ago. It sums up this episode perfectly, in which a comedy of errors (actually a tragedy, but it plays like a comedy, hence Data being an art critic for Picard's painting in the opening teaser) is remembered by those involved in the way they want to remember it. In what must've been a brilliant high-concept pitch by writer Ed Zuckerman, this episode is "Rashomon in the holodeck."

As Riker beams back from a space station after discussing the progress of a new technology ("Krieger waves," not to be confused with "Kegel exercises") being developed by scientist Dr. Apgar (Mark Margolis), the station explodes, killing Apgar. Riker is accused of murder by the local authorities (Craig Richard Nelson), and the extradition hearing is held on the holodeck, where witness depositions and the facts of the case are viewed like scenes from a play. This is a clever twist on the courtroom show, and the holodeck is, I must admit, the perfect venue for dramatizing this kind of fact-finding mission. The facts mostly surround a perceived attraction between Riker and Apgar's wife Manua (Gina Hecht), which in varying versions of testimony has Riker flirting with Manua or vice versa.

The Rashomon effect eventually plays like humor, where Apgar, in three different versions (1) takes a swing at Riker and misses and falls down, (2) receives two punches in the gut from a real bastard version of Riker, and (3) kicks Riker's ass (in the most unlikely of scenarios). This third version leads to the hilariously over-the-top "You're a dead man, Apgar!" line. Riker watches the simulation and buries his face in his hand.

Who really killed Apgar, and why? That's answered in a final act that nearly drowns in its excess. A lengthy scene of exposition threatens to collapse under its own weight. The technical role of the Krieger wave converter (and its implausibly perfect replication in the holodeck, such that it actually functions) is ridiculous, and requires pages of explanation dialog. But the plot is exceptionally tidy, tying up all loose ends, assuming you buy into the technobabble. I don't, really -- but, dammit, I like this episode anyway. It follows the facts from beginning to end in the true, verbose spirit of TNG.

Rating:

"Yesterday's Enterprise" -- Air date: 2/19/1990. Teleplay by Ira Steven Behr & Richard Manning & Hans Beimler & Ronald D. Moore. Story by Trent Christopher Ganino & Eric A. Stillwell. Directed by David Carson.

There aren't many episodes that announce themselves as instant classics, but "Yesterday's Enterprise" was one of them. It was an instant classic when it aired, and in the years since it has become an enduring one. It's one of the franchise's very best time-travel stories. (Every Trek series has had at least one that vied for similar thematic territory, whether it was TOS's "City on the Edge of Forever," DS9's "Children of Time," Voyager's "Timeless," or Enterprise's "E2.")

A rift in space and time allows the Enterprise's predecessor, the 1701-C under Captain Rachel Garrett (Tricia O'Neil), to emerge in an alternate version of the future and come face-to-face with the 1701-D. In this much different timeline, Starfleet has been at war with the Klingons for 20 years. The Enterprise-C's passage through time allowed it to escape a deadly battle with the Romulans after the Enterprise-C had come to the aid of a besieged Klingon outpost.

When the writers' were making their decisions in creating this story, perhaps the most crucial was their use of Guinan, who has a perception that transcends the timeline. She knows, with every fiber of her being, that the timeline is not right and that the Enterprise-C must go back, even if that means certain death for its crew at the hands of the Romulans. Because even their deaths could change history, as a gesture seen by the Klingons that could ultimately pave the way to peace rather than war.

What this does for the story is turn it into a moral quagmire with massive implications, where the characters must make impossible decisions. What we're really talking about here is playing God. More than 40 billion people have died in the Klingon/Federation war, and returning the Enterprise-C's to the past could prevent all of it. Picard, as one man, holds the power to make the decision. In a compelling exchange, Picard flat-out asks Guinan who's to say whether one timeline is more "proper" than the other? Her reply: "I suppose I am." To frame this as a 20th-century question: What if you could go back in time and kill Hitler? History would be, in Picard's words, irrevocably changed, but that would also mean undoing everything else that has happened since. Who knows whether you're alive or dead in the other timeline, and what implications that has on everything else unrelated to the variables you intend to change? (Of course, dramatic license means that this alternate timeline parallels the real one more closely than it ever possibly could; I myself subscribe to the chaos-theory/butterfly-effect school of thought.)

The question is of particular poignancy to Yar, who is alive in this version of the timeline and learns from Guinan that she died a meaningless death in the other one. This, along with her newfound camaraderie with Enterprise-C's Lt. Castillo (Christopher McDonald), prompts her to go back with the Enterprise-C and die a death that serves a purpose. It's impressive how much ground this episode seems to cover in a single hour. In addition to the moral and cosmic questions, it provides an interesting Trek history lesson that fills in gaps about one of the Enterprise's mysterious predecessors, and it manages to somewhat mitigate the effect of the ignominious death that befell Yar in the first season.

As an exercise in tone, the episode is remarkable, featuring a stark contrast to the other timeline. The lighting, uniforms, and performances all indicate a darker military existence. Picard, in particular, is notably more grim and intense; Patrick Stewart conveys a different and powerful urgency but never goes overboard. The last act, in which the Enterprise-D must protect the Enterprise-C from Klingon attack as it returns through the rift, is one of TNG's most intense and memorable battle scenes. As the Enterprise takes a pounding, it becomes clear that they cannot survive. Only by sacrificing the Enterprise-D does the Enterprise-C have a chance to rewrite history. Picard's announcement to the crew says it all: "Let's make sure that history never forgets the name ... Enterprise."

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"The Offspring" -- Air date: 3/12/1990. Written by Rene Echevarria. Directed by Jonathan Frakes.

After undertaking a project of unusual secrecy, Data stuns the crew by revealing that he has created another android, Lal (Hallie Todd), which he introduces as his child. Lal is activated and interacts with Data and the crew in a series of lessons designed to aid in the development of her sentience, cognitive abilities, and social understanding. Picard is somewhat taken aback at the revelation of Data's child, having not been consulted about the creation of a new artificial life on board his ship. He's unsettled by what Starfleet might do when it finds out about Lal.

Picard's fears turn out to be founded. Starfleet wants Lal sent to a starbase for further study, arguing that Data does not have the required expertise to ensure Lal's proper development. Picard argues back and forth with Starfleet, and refuses to separate Data from his daughter, until Starfleet sends out Admiral Haftel (Nicholas Coster) to make a determination of Lal's situation and whether her development would be best served remaining on the Enterprise.

I've always found the much-adored "Offspring" to be a solid, intriguing, but somewhat overrated TNG episode. It isn't without its problems. For one, the whole notion of Lal choosing her species seems to me like an idea that is little ado about nothing. The scene where Lal narrows down her choices in the holodeck seems awkward and truncated, and it arises from a point I find confusing: If Data's mission has been to study and become more human, why would his daughter be anything else? It's not like Data has spent his life trying to understand the Klingon or Andorian condition. But that's a minor point. A more significant one is the fact that Starfleet's position regarding Lal's development (they intend to separate her from Data) feels like an excessively forced point of conflict. Haftel is written as far too arbitrarily obstinate. His stance against Picard acts as if "The Measure of a Man" never happened (events of which Picard explicitly mentions).

Still, "The Offspring" has its heart in the right place and represents an interesting (albeit brief) journey. The fact that the story is about Data's rights and experiences as a parent at least centers everything on human issues rather than technological ones. And there's some fascination in watching Data and Lal grappling with basic human questions of learning and love (although I found some of these individual scenes to be a bit too "cute" at times). The building friction between Picard and Haftel is not resolved (which is ultimately a bit unsatisfying), but instead rendered moot when Lal begins experiencing unanticipated emotions, malfunctions, and ultimately death (described by Data as "total system failure"). Data's inability to feel emotion over the death of his daughter is simultaneously a blessing and a tragedy, and yet he was still able to derive an unparalleled enrichment to his life through Lal's existence.

One thing is certain about season three: It saw TNG introduced to what would become much of the core staff of writer-producers on Trek for years to come: Michael Piller, Ira Steven Behr, Ronald D. Moore, and now Rene Echevarria. "The Offspring" is also Jonathan Frakes' directorial debut.

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"Sins of the Father" -- Air date: 3/19/1990. Teleplay by Ronald D. Moore & W. Reed Moran. Story by Drew Deighan. Directed by Les Landau.

One notably important aspect of TNG's third season was the way it expanded the canvas of the Trek mythos. TOS and the first two seasons of TNG felt more like a western in space (uncharted frontiers, etc.), but with this season, the Trek universe began reinventing itself as a place containing sprawling civilizations and a political landscape that was tangible in a way that we had not perceived before.

"The Enemy" and "The Defector" demonstrated that via the Romulans, and now "Sins of the Father" demonstrates it by providing a look at Klingons not simply in isolated obscurity, but as a society with cultures and (corrupt) politics. Kurn (Tony Todd) boards the Enterprise in the exchange program as payback for Riker's visit to the Klingon ship in "A Matter of Honor." At first the episode looks like "A Matter of Honor" in reverse, but Kurn soon reveals that he is Worf's brother, separated from the family before their parents were killed by the Romulan attack on Khitomer over 20 years ago. The Klingon High Council is planning to scapegoat the Khitomer massacre on their father, Mogh, alleging he betrayed the Klingons by supplying the Romulans with intelligence. Only by standing before the council and proving his father innocent can Worf restore his family's honor (at risk of death to himself, if his father is deemed guilty).

The episode does not play out predictably, which is one of its pleasures. It defies brief synopsis. Suffice it to say that through a series of twists, turns, attempted killings, and political cover-ups, Worf finds that he must accept discommendation for the crimes falsely pinned on his father. It's the only solution that will protect both him and his brother from execution while keeping the High Council from collapsing into a civil war over the uncovering of the true traitor -- the father of Duras (Patrick Massett), whose family has too much power to be openly accused. Picard's personal involvement in this affair works because it allows us to enter these proceedings through a relative outsider's perspective and gain a better understanding.

"Sins of the Father" offers a lot to sink your teeth into and reveals more complexity to the Trek universe. It begins a storytelling tradition of Worf's responses to Klingon political corruption that would rear its head frequently all the way up to DS9's "Tacking into the Wind." (The method of this episode also would influence the intrigue-based storytelling that fueled many early Bajoran-themed stories on DS9.) It reveals Worf as a Klingon whose selfless pledge to protect the Klingon Empire is admirable, particularly seeing as the Empire sees little reason to return the favor.

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"Allegiance" -- Air date: 3/26/1990. Written by Richard Manning & Hans Beimler. Directed by Winrich Kolbe.

Picard is beamed off the ship by an unknown force and put in a holding cell with three other prisoners exhibiting widely varying personalities. Meanwhile, a perfect doppelganger of Picard is put aboard the Enterprise in his place and impersonates the captain. The false Picard alters the Enterprise's course and takes it on an extended detour away from its scheduled rendezvous. The real Picard attempts to maintain control of an uneasy room where the tension between the prisoners continues to escalate as they try, and fail, to find a way to escape.

"Allegiance" is about observing behavior, and to be sure, there's some interesting behavior to observe here, particularly involving the faux Picard. He goes about his role as captain, and everything is just slightly off, but faux-Picard's explanations and reassurances to the crew are so pleasantly convincing that it's not obvious to the crew for a long time that there's something truly wrong here. The oddest of the behavior involves Picard's dinner with Crusher in his quarters (and she's at a loss to explain what happens there), and especially when Picard buys a round of drinks for everyone in Ten-Forward. The most entertaining moments in the show are watching the crew's confused reactions to the faux-Picard's slowly (but surely) increasingly odd behavior.

Of considerably less interest are the scenes in the mysterious holding cell, which document too little progress and quickly grow repetitive. We've got an annoying bully monster-alien in the room who threatens everybody (Reiner Schone), an annoying pacifist alien who acts like a smug wimp (Stephen Markel), and a Bolian Starfleet cadet (Joycelyn O'Brien) who remains mostly neutral. Picard must maintain a balance and keep the peace in this room. The clue that leads him to his discovery of the truth is pretty lame.

The whole episode has a palpable what-the-hell-is-going-on-here vibe to it, but it's a very slow burn that takes a long time (too long) to reach its climax, which is less than satisfying. The problem with the episode is that the conclusion (which is actually the story's underlying premise) in retrospect cannot support what happens in the episode. If the aliens responsible are simply trying to study the concept of leadership, how can they be so good at faking competent leadership with their copy of Picard? In fact, how can they be so good at copying Picard at all? I don't buy it.

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"Captain's Holiday" -- Air date: 4/2/1990. Written by Ira Steven Behr. Directed by Chip Chalmers.

The crew of the Enterprise badgers an overworked Captain Picard until he grudgingly agrees to take a week of vacation on tropical resort planet Risa. Once there, he finds himself in the middle of a ludicrous sci-fi/archaeological/time-travel plot, a hopelessly cliched romance with Vash (Jennifer Hetrick), and run-ins with an exceptionally annoying Ferengi named Sovak (Max Grodenchik in full moron mode, clearly in an early audition for Rom). I say Picard's time would've been better spent playing Dixon Hill in the holodeck.

Ira Steven Behr, in his first solo TNG script, plays the Ferengi card. If Ron Moore's future as "the Klingon guy" was sealed after his first script, then perhaps Behr's fate as "the Ferengi guy" is sealed here. Behr's obsession with Ferenginar is well documented, and would continue for the rest of the decade, especially on DS9.

The weak and boring "Captain's Holiday" can't release itself from its sci-fi machinations long enough to be a fun romp. Meanwhile, the sci-fi machinations are too perfunctory (and absurd) to be taken the least bit seriously on their own. The result is a constant compromise where nothing has any conviction, least of all the by-the-numbers romance between Picard and Vash (who is not without her appeal). It's a wasted opportunity. We want to enjoy seeing the lighter side of Picard, but not when he's buried in an idiotic plot with such stolid execution. Everyone's chasing the "Tox Uthat" (which can stop nuclear fusion in a star, no less), including a couple of time-traveling Vogons from the 27th century. For much of the episode, Picard takes the Vogons at their word -- probably a bad idea involving any invention that can kill a solar system. If this sounds like a lame Indiana Jones wannabe, that's because it is.

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"Tin Man" -- Air date: 4/23/1990. Written by Dennis Putman Bailey & David Bischoff. Directed by Robert Scheerer.

Starfleet has observed a mysterious space object -- believed to be a "living starship" and dubbed "Tin Man" -- orbiting a star that's about to go nova, and sends the Enterprise to investigate and make contact with it. But the mission is a race: The Enterprise must reach and contact Tin Man before the Romulans do. Starfleet assigns a mission specialist to the Enterprise, Tam Elbrun (Harry Groener), a man with extraordinary telepathic skills, even for a Betazoid.

"Tin Man" exemplifies the balanced TNG episode. It's good, not great. It puts emphasis, in nearly equal measure, on its central character crisis (Tam's), the seeking out of Strange New Life (Tin Man), and a showdown with a familiar foe (the Romulans). Tam is an intriguing, flawed individual with unique problems -- a loner who tries to push everybody away, and is borderline unstable. Troi knows him from the past (he was a patient) and his psychological torment is understandable; he hears every thought of every person on the ship, constantly. Put yourself in his shoes and you'd probably be hard-pressed to consider sanity as a likely outcome. Tam is in contact with Tin Man, which has even more powerful abilities for telepathy. Tin Man is in the TNG spirit of ancient, wondrous, and powerful forms of previously unknown life. Starfleet is curious of such things.

On the other hand, the Romulans would dissect Tin Man given the chance. After the terrific "Defector," in which the Romulans were both smart and ruthless, it's kind of a shame to see the Romulans reduced to such bland thuggery. I guess someone's gotta do it. When Tin Man destroys a Romulan ship while protecting itself, a second ship announces its right to claim vengeance on Tin Man. I don't understand what makes them think they could possibly be successful, but given that intention, I couldn't figure out why the Romulans then just sit there while Tam and Data beam over to make direct contact with Tin Man. Why don't the Romulans attempt to board Tin Man?

The episode's solutions are tidy in the sense that the story has a certain number of pieces (two, really) and they are destined to fit together. Tin Man once had a crew, but the crew died. It has since roamed the galaxy alone and now wants to die, hence it being parked in orbit of a star about to explode. Tam and Tin Man provide each other a symbiosis that was meant to be. Tin Man will no longer be alone, and Tam will have just one voice to contend with rather than hundreds. The episode is the first to be scored by Jay Chattaway, who in season four would eventually replace Ron Jones and go on to write music for Trek for the next 15 years.

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"Hollow Pursuits" -- Air date: 4/30/1990. Written by Sally Caves. Directed by Cliff Bole.

At long last, here's welcome evidence that there are screw-ups in Starfleet. Given how the Enterprise is so often a testament to the hopelessly elite, it's refreshing to get a story about lowly Lt. Reginald Barclay (Dwight Schultz), a guy who's always late, awkward in groups, inexplicable to his shipmates, unable to fit in, and addicted to his fantasies in the holodeck.

Geordi is fed up and frankly doesn't want to deal with him anymore. Picard's approach is more proof of his Picard-ness: Rather than abandon this officer and transfer him out, he asks Geordi to make more of an effort to reach out and get to know the guy. It's not an easy task. Barclay's shyness reaches a level of social paralysis, and it makes him ineffective as a communicator in a workplace setting. Meanwhile, he spends all his free time in the holodeck.

The episode is probably best remembered for its amusing holodeck sequences featuring Barclay's overactive imagination and depictions of real crew members -- including a uniquely hilarious opening scene where Barclay's overconfident alter ego (and it's a complete alter ego) struts into Ten-Forward and pushes Geordi and Riker around. Later, there's swordplay, which features a version of Riker that Barclay has digitally shortened. Troi finds it all to be amusing and therapeutic -- until she sees the digital version of herself that Barclay has created (the "Goddess of Empathy").

But the heart of the episode is in deconstructing a man who doesn't fit in or feel comfortable. Guinan's sympathy for Barclay's situation is commendable. And Geordi makes a real effort to break down his defenses. Of course, the hilarious moment when Picard slips and calls him "Broccoli" is a classic, comic worst-case scenario. After all of Geordi's efforts, the captain accidentally sets everything back a step.

Does the episode need its overplayed jeopardy premise involving the malfunction that causes the Enterprise to race out of control? And does the jeopardy have to come down to terse, last-minute warnings from the computer that the ship is about to be destroyed? No and no. But I do like the way the engineering team swiftly deconstructs the problem with simple logic to find the solution. These are smart people working a problem intelligently. The episode's closing joke is Barclay's goodbye scene -- to the holographic crew. Barclay is a welcome rough pebble among all the Enterprise's polished pearls.

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"The Most Toys" -- Air date: 5/7/1990. Written by Shari Goodhartz. Directed by Tim Bond.

In a hasty negotiation reached with a merchant, the Enterprise acquires a rare chemical substance needed to treat a contaminated water supply on a nearby colony. Data is transporting the substance via shuttlecraft when his shuttle suddenly explodes, resulting in his apparent death to the Enterprise crew. In reality, he has been kidnapped by the crew of the merchant ship. The merchant, Fajo (Saul Rubinek), is the owner of an impressive collection of some of the galaxy's rarest items (most of them stolen), and he intends Data to become the crown jewel of that collection. Fajo even has a chair that he expects Data to sit in when he shows Data off to his peers.

This is a simple plot, no doubt about it. What makes it come alive is the characters' dialog and behavior. Fajo initially seems like a character that hints at a comic performance, but as the episode continues and reveals the depths of Fajo's immorality, you realize there's nothing comic about the character or the way Saul Rubinek plays him. This is a man with a boundless ego, used to getting what he wants, and with no scruples whatsoever. He wants Data to obey, and when Data does not, it quietly becomes a war of wills with escalating consequences.

What I find most enjoyable about this episode is how Data's war is a war of manners. Data is just so damned polite, even when confronted by a smug egomaniac like Fajo. Data's response to being kidnapped is to ask straightforward, sincere questions. When Fajo makes the terms of Data's custody clear, Data's response is to explain in straightforward, honest terms why Fajo's plan is immoral and why he won't cooperate. Because he's incapable of anger, Data's resistance is usually passive, calm, and logical. (Imagine Riker or Worf in this situation and you see the uniqueness of Data's approach.) In a way, Data's rock-solid logic and unflappable temperament almost makes it more maddening for Fajo. Fajo can't anger Data, but that makes it no easier for Fajo to control him. It becomes a stalemate. The episode's wild card is Varria (Jane Daly), a woman who has been gradually Stockholm syndromed into Fajo's clutches (she helped kidnap Data), but clearly does not like where she is. Data represents a possible new opportunity for her escape.

The final act, in which Fajo kills Varria for betraying him, is a somewhat shocking turn of events. Data's response poses one of those intriguing questions that the story asks the audience to decide for themselves: Did Data intend to shoot and kill Fajo before he was beamed out? I believe he did, simply because the logic of the situation would permit him to take deadly action, and, in Data's words, he "cannot allow this to continue." But then why would Data lie about having pulled the trigger?

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"Sarek" -- Air date: 5/14/1990. Teleplay by Peter S. Beagle. Story by Marc Cushman & Jake Jacobs. Directed by Les Landau.

Famed Vulcan Ambassador Sarek (Mark Lenard) comes aboard the Enterprise to conduct delicate negotiations with the Legarans, an alien species that Sarek has single-handedly been able to open relations with on behalf of the Federation. Sarek intends to seal the talks as the crowning achievement in his storied career. While en route to meet the Legarans, however, odd occurrences of flaring tempers begins to affect members of the crew, with escalating urgency. Meanwhile, it becomes evident that Sarek himself may be having problems controlling his emotions; Picard sees a tear in the Vulcan's eye during a concert in Ten-Forward.

The flaring tempers begin ominously but harmlessly, as Wesley and Geordi get into a shouting match over who's more hopeless when it comes to women (ah, a perfectly appropriate nerd fight!), and slowly escalates: Crusher slaps her son in the face for no good reason, and ultimately an entire bar brawl breaks out in Ten-Forward -- a visual that proves as amusing as it does odd. What's going on here? Crusher believes that it's a case of a rare Vulcan mental illness that results in a loss of emotional control. The side effects are unintentionally inflicted upon others, caused by Sarek's telepathic abilities randomly projecting emotions, and thus havoc, on members of the crew. Picard runs into resistance with Sarek's staff and wife Perrin (Joanna Miles) when he recommends that they delay the negotiations. A delay would derail the talks completely, and Sarek will not hear of it.

In addition to being a rare, direct, fan-welcome bridging of TNG and TOS, "Sarek" is an obvious example of the "actor's episode." Some Trek outings highlight action or visual effects as their main selling points; this one highlights performances. It's a good, solid story that's elevated by two critical acting scenes. One is where Picard confronts Sarek, and Sarek attempts to prove his competence while his emotional control is not being held together by his aide Sakkath (Rocco Sisto). Sarek's gradual deterioration as depicted by Mark Lenard in this scene is an explosive (and heartbreaking) sight to behold. The other big scene comes when Picard offers to accept a mind meld that temporarily allows Sarek to regain control of his emotions long enough to finish the negotiations. In the meantime, Picard's mind must host Sarek's savagely intense and unfiltered Vulcan emotions. Patrick Stewart is completely uninhibited in showing a rambling, anguished explosion of Sarek's inner voices, fury, and soul. It's a remarkably brave performance that makes us believe in this intriguing premise.

Thematically, the story provides a subtle allegory on the elderly and the mentally ill, regarding the issues of humiliation they must endure when the circumstances of their health force them to abandon important parts of their lives and identity. There is no cure for Sarek's condition; like Alzheimer's, it will slowly continue to steal him away, separating the mental faculties from the man.

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"Menage à Troi" -- Air date: 5/28/1990. Written by Fred Bronson & Susan Sackett. Directed by Robert Legato.

The dreaded phrase "Ferengi episode" is probably most associated with the annual hijinks on DS9, but here we have a bona fide "Ferengi episode" for TNG, still years before DS9 was a thought in anyone's mind. While I'm open to the possibility that not all Ferengi episodes are bad (DS9's "The Magnificent Ferengi" was passably amusing), I'm resigned to the fact that most of them suck.

We also have Lwaxana Troi, who is TNG's most intentionally obnoxious semi-recurring character. Lwaxana can be funny and likable in small doses, but she's more often not. Combine Lwaxana, the Ferengi, and a lame-brained kidnapping plot, and you end up with a sort of Perfect Storm of TNG stupidity. The end result is an episode about on par with "Captain's Holiday"; it's not quite absolutely horrific, but it's pretty lousy. It's an attempt to break formula and change up the tone, but in order to do that, the villains must be written as complete idiots.

Riker, Troi, and Lwaxana are picnicking on Betazed when Ferengi DaiMon Tog (Frank Corsentino), who is hopelessly smitten by Lwaxana (in his backward Ferengi ways), kidnaps them all. If he had any sense, he would simply kidnap Lwaxana and be done with it, instead of taking the additional prisoners that will all but guarantee his defeat. (Then again, if the Federation had any sense, it would seal the Ferengi border.) Tog is one of these characters that's too stupid to live. I know, this is "comedy," but it makes for endless sitcom tediousness. Farek (Ethan Phillips) is slightly smarter, but that's not saying much.

Inquiring minds want to know: Is it implied that Tog and Lwaxana have sex? Or is it implied that they just sorta maybe kinda make out? The answer is beyond TNG's scope of information as a family show, for which we should probably be thankful. The show's saving grace is (not surprisingly) Patrick Stewart, who has Picard throwing himself into the role of Lwaxana's jealous ex-lover in order to thwart the Ferengi. Stewart is entertaining even when forced to engage in the silliness that surrounds him. He lowers himself to the material and manages to bring it up a notch as a result.

(Almost forgot: Wesley is scheduled to leave for Starfleet Academy, but he misses his ship in order to decode a message that leads the Enterprise to the Ferengi. Since Wesley can't go to the academy for another year, Picard promotes him to full ensign and gives him a real uniform.)

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"Transfigurations" -- Air date: 6/4/1990. Written by Rene Echevarria. Directed by Tom Benko.

Until now, I'm pretty sure I hadn't seen this episode since it originally aired in 1990. As this is one of those middling episodes of TNG that few people seem to care about (myself included), I've had no reason to revisit it until now. So a funny thing happened to me while watching "Transfigurations." For the first 20 minutes, I couldn't remember what it was about or how it ended. Not at all. But as the episode continued, I remembered more and more, until finally I said to myself, "Here comes the part where Worf goes flying over the railing and breaks his neck." Funny how I remembered that. Probably because neck-breaking stunts are cool.

The weird thing was how my experience watching this episode mirrored the central character -- an alien (Mark La Mura) who has no memory but recalls bits and pieces as the story moves forward and strange things happen to his body. The alien was found by the Enterprise crew, a hair's width from death after the crash of his escape pod. He does not remember his name or where he's from or why he crashed, so John Doe it is. Crusher cares for him over the course of a month, and his recovery is a miraculous one that can be attributed to his body's phenomenal ability to heal itself. He discovers that he also has the ability to heal others.

The episode seeks the answers to where this guy came from and what's now happening to him. He can't explain himself or his powers. Picard is concerned. Meanwhile, the Enterprise ventures into a territory of space where Doe might be from. Mark La Mura is earnest and projects a nice-guy persona, but the episode's problem is that it moves slowly and has a tendency to repeat itself. The episode amounts to Doe explaining that he can't explain himself, Picard expressing concern, Crusher defending Doe, and then Doe healing somebody. Repeat. I was more intrigued by Geordi's newfound confidence and girlfriend Christy Henshaw (Julie Warner); although I wondered what changed her mind about Geordi between "Booby Trap" and here.

The ending, in which the Enterprise finds Doe's people -- who were responsible for attacking him and causing his crash -- provides the usual TNG lesson about tolerance versus fear, seeking out new life, etc., etc. Doe (and his people) are on the verge of a wondrous evolution into a different kind of life form. Doe's people fear that possibility, and I can't say I blame them. Of course, I also can't say that killing everyone who has symptoms of this change is particularly bright, either.

I'd forgotten that this is where O'Brien's kayaking hobby and shoulder injury were first documented. For some reason I'd thought that was established much later, on DS9. I'd call this a nice touch of continuity, but since this is the first time, I guess the "continuity" part doesn't come until later.

Rating:

"The Best of Both Worlds, Part I" -- Air date: 6/18/1990. Written by Michael Piller. Directed by Cliff Bole.

I suspect -- or at least hope -- that for everybody, there are those precious few hours in front of a television or at the movies that stand apart from all the rest as the most obviously memorable. They're the ones that live on in the imagination as truly thrilling experiences. They stick with you and you remember them fondly, and then you put in the DVD so many years later ... and it works about as well as it ever did. Certainly, it works as well as you could possibly expect given the passage of so much time and the fact that not only has television changed, but so have you.

Those particular TV episodes vary from person to person, and whether or not you were at a place to enjoy a particular episode in that way probably has as much to do with you as the show. But for me, at age 14, it was "The Best of Both Worlds." I suspect that I'm not the only one who feels this way about this particular show. But at that age ... well, what can I say? It was awesome. And it was captivating. It was Trek with a visceral edge we had rarely seen the likes of before.

The Borg. After the scene in "Q Who" where they sliced a hole through the Enterprise and then revealed themselves as an implacable pack of locusts who could not be reasoned with and possibly not defeated, here was finally the episode where they had finally reached Federation space. The Enterprise answers a colony's distress call and arrives to find the entire colony has been scooped off the surface of the planet. Evidence it was the Borg is confirmed in the wreckage. "We're not ready," Admiral Hanson (George Murdock) says ominously. Here is an episode of Trek with a uniquely palpable sense of danger, foreboding, and a feeling of being outmatched. There is no talking your way out of a confrontation with the Borg. They are coming, and they aren't stopping. How can we possibly defeat them?

In the background, we've got some solid character work. Riker has been offered another promotion to captain, but he's balking again. In the meantime, an ambitious hotshot, Lt. Commander Shelby (Elizabeth Dennehy), is posted to the Enterprise to help work on a way to defeat the Borg. Riker hasn't left yet, but Shelby already has her eye on his job. Michael Piller's script skillfully weaves the issue of Riker's and Shelby's careers in between the action involving the Borg, which the Enterprise engages when they turn out to be the closest ship to intercept them. Shelby's ambition is bold, as in the moment after she saves everyone's asses with quick thinking and then stands above Data and Wesley; Picard subtly "relieves" her and retakes command. In another scene, she goes over Riker's head and takes her idea about separating the saucer straight to Picard. When Riker busts her on it, she tells him bluntly, "You're in my way." This is ballsy character conflict rarely seen on TNG.

And there's a haunting, quiet discussion as well, with contemplations of The End, in which Picard and Guinan wax philosophic in the face of possibly inevitable decimation. Picard's contemplation of the end of humanity's role in history is the epitome of grace under pressure, as he reflects upon it in a larger context of history: "Will this be the end of our civilization? Turn the page." Hints that would later add to the speculative fire abound. Guinan: "Nelson never returned from Trafalgar." Picard: "No, but the battle was won." Will this conflict, even if victorious, see the end of Picard? And Guinan's testament to the human spirit offers reassurance: "As long as there's a handful of you to keep the spirit alive, you will prevail." It's brilliant writing.

The new development in the Borg is that they want Picard specifically. When he refuses to surrender, they attack the Enterprise and kidnap him and set course for Earth, resulting in a pursuit where the Enterprise away team attempts to rescue Picard from the Borg cube.

As a production, the episode delivers; it features some of Trek's best-looking and best-executed ship pursuit scenes (including a venture into a nebula). It has an unforgettable score by Ron Jones (including the Borg theme) that is easily the most memorable single score in the entire post-TOS canon. And there's action on the Borg ship that is somehow made more frightening by the zombie-like slow-motion of the Borg drones that zero in on the away team. And who can forget that chilling moment when Picard is revealed as Locutus of Borg? Great stuff.

At the time, the ending cliffhanger was nothing short of a total coup. Season-ending cliffhangers were rare compared to today (where they are now frequently perfunctory and obligatory; we can thank the success of this episode). The cut to black in this episode prompted double-take whiplash. "Mr. Worf -- fire." That's how the season ends? It was such a shock that the line to this day is still my benchmark for all cliffhangers. (As in, "That season-ender was no Mr.-Worf-fire.")

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