In today’s science lesson, boys and girls, we’re going to
review some basics that the writers of television science fiction seem to have
forgotten. The shows I’m going to rant about are generally categorized as space
opera—adventures set in space, sometimes with a military framework—and are among
my favorites, but in a few cases, the writers just went too far with poetic
license. That’s okay if you’re writing fantasy or paranormal, but in science
fiction, the science should be a little more rigorous, even on TV.
Let’s start with The Expanse, the fifth season of
which just concluded on Amazon Prime Video. There’s a lot to love about this
series,
based on the books by James S. A. Corey, starring Stephen Strait, Dominique
Tipper, Wes Chatham and Shohreh Aghdashloo. The ongoing political and shooting
battles between three factions in the near future: Earthers (which include
colonists and others on the moon), Martians (long-time colonists who are now
independent of Earth) and Belters (independent spacers who make their living
among the asteroid belts and outer planets of the solar system) are constantly
entertaining and full of marvelous worldbuilding detail.
Why, then, do we always have to “hear” the
roar of ships’ engines in the blackness of space (that is, from the external
shots)? As the tagline to ALIEN so famously put it, “In space, no one can hear
you scream.” Vacuum can’t transmit sound; there aren’t enough molecules to
vibrate to a level where humans can hear it. Those engine sounds would only be
heard from inside the ships, if at all. Yet, every time we see those
thrusters light up against the backdrop of black space, we hear a roar. No! They
would be completely silent. Explosions: silent. If I remember correctly, even
Classic TREK in the Sixties got this right, and certainly 2001: A SPACE ODYSSEY
did.
The writers on The Expanse just plain
have a disregard for the dangers of vacuum. They insist on issuing projectile
weapons to their crews despite the problems a wayward bullet would cause in a
pressurized hull. It’s the future, after all! Give them lasers or proton
pistols or something that won’t put a hole in your ship.
 |
| The Expanse is excellent, but tends to ignore vacuum. |
Things finally came to a ridiculous head
this season when somebody got the bright idea to send one of the main characters
(Naomi Nagata, played by Dominique Tipper) out an airlock without so much as a
rebreather or a light jacket. It was her idea, too, mind you, an escape to a
ship tethered alongside the one where she was being held captive. O-k-a-a-y! Someone
must have read the research
that says an astronaut once lasted 14 seconds in near-vacuum in a testing
situation when his suit sprang a leak. Wow! Plot bunny! So they shoved Naomi
out an airlock with nothing, had her cross a catwalk to the other ship, open
the other airlock and repressurize, all with few effects. No boiling eyeballs
or saliva, passing out from lack of oxygen, “bends” from pressure changes,
frostbite on various extremities from the extreme cold, etc. Sure, I believe
that.
I guess the writer who researched the
effects on the human body in a vacuum neglected to note that the astronaut who survived
his accident was still wearing his suit (it just had a pin-sized hole) and had
a team to revive him. The last thing he remembered before passing out was the
saliva on his tongue boiling. Naomi was on her own—and, outside of a few aches
and pains, was just fine!
This kind of thing makes me crazy, mostly
because The Expanse offers itself as a science-based show. Star Trek,
on the other hand, has always pushed the boundaries of what is considered
acceptable science. It is true space opera, in that there is an element of the
old “Buck Rogers” serials in it, and always has been. Still, the science in
TREK has less of fantasy about it than some franchises, and a separate fandom
has even arisen around the military structure of Starfleet (with fan groups organized
in ships and in cordons of Starfleet “Marines.”)
This third season of the latest iteration of
the Star Trek franchise, Star Trek: Discovery, gave fans a lot to
think about when heroine Commander Michael Burnham (Sonequa
Martin-Green) and the U.S.S. Discovery leapt 930
years into their future to protect the secrets of the “spore drive” and time
travel. They found a galaxy much changed from the one they knew. A galactic
disaster called “the Burn” had rendered dilithium crystals inert, destroying all
dilithium-dependent ships in a single stroke. As a result, Starfleet and the
Federation all but crumbled overnight, leaving systems and planets prey to
slavers and opportunists like the Orion-run Emerald Chain. Burnham had to find allies
and connect with what’s left of the Federation, but first she had to find the Discovery,
which somehow hadn’t followed the same flight path into the future as she had.
Though I missed the characters that drew me
to the series in the first place—Captain Christopher Pike (the delectable Anson
Mount of HELL ON WHEELS) and Spock of Vulcan (Ethan Peck)—this third season had
plenty of new features (and characters) to keep me intrigued. The writers,
though, made a couple of boneheaded mistakes that belong more in fan fiction
than on national television.
The
gentle Kelpien Saru (Doug Jones), for example, may be a fan favorite, but he is
NOT captain material, as he showed multiple times this season. (Remember that
episode of Classic TREK when Kirk was split into Nice Kirk and Evil Kirk and
Nice Kirk made a lousy captain? Yeah. That’s Saru.) The writers did fix this
mistake by the end of the season, in a very satisfying way (I won’t tell you
how in case you haven’t seen it.)
But they allowed another major error to
stand. You can never, ever, make an ensign First Officer, as they did
here. As most of us know who have a military background, there is a command hierarchy
that must be followed. People advance in their careers through the ranks. And
an ensign is the lowliest officer rank aboard ship. Sylvia Tilly (Mary Wiseman)
has been an ensign for the duration of the show and saved the ship multiple
times. (In that way, she’s the very definition of a Mary Sue, the minor female
character in fan fiction that takes an overblown role.) I’m sure she’s a fan
favorite. Please, for God’s sake, promote her. But don’t make her the First
Officer, who answers only to the Captain.
At least that captain is now Michael Burnham,
who, despite her flaws, has a commanding presence.
Cheers, Donna
