Unfortunately no update today either. Between starting work and chugging away of extracurricular projects, I've been unable to get the actual writing finished for this update, though I've made a little progress. Tonight I've managed to reduce the stack of other writing enough to see my desk again, so maybe in the next few days I can finish the things that have stopped me from having time to work on Eyes Tuned Skyward.
Well, I can't speak for e of pi directly, but I'll see what I can do. There may be workarounds if he's still busy.
I can speak for e of pi directly. Unfortunately, things have been kind of nuts. Work has started, and has been taking up a lot of time. Additionally, for the last two or three weeks, every time I got one piece of writing done that's before ETS on the priority list for my free time, it spawned a new chunk of writing. That only really changed the last three days, and I've been working on the next post both tonight and last night. As a matter of fact, it's the window I minimized to check AH. Hopefully, I'll get this post cleaned up to the proper level tonight and it'll go live tomorrow either during my lunch break or after work. It's partly been delayed because I know this next bit's going to spur discussion and second-guessing no matter how much I tinker with it, and I'm always a little terrified of negative criticism, at least in a public forum like this one. Thus, even though I think there'll be kick back either way, I've been a little compulsive with tweaking it.
So...yeah. It's in the works. Check in tomorrow.
So...yeah. It's in the works. Check in tomorrow.
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Post 21: ELVRP II and the need for a new DoD Heavy. NASA added to program as junior partner
Depending on your timezone, it may or may not be Wednesday, but I figured I'd make up for missing the last two weeks by posting a little early. This is sort of half of a two-part post, originally they were to be seperate but to partly make up for the slips, I'm going to finish that second part and post it as well later in the week. This first half lays out the history and goals of the ELVRP II, the other details the hardware that was submitted and the decision that was made.
Eyes Turned Skyward, Post #21
By the time the Delta 4000 made its first flight in 1980 from Cape Canaveral Launch Complex 40, the ELVRP was more than its name indicated; it was nothing less than a whole-scale replacement of the way space launch, at least in the US military, was to be thought of and used. The Delta 4000 program had itself become just a small, if important, part of a vast project. In 1981, the entire project was about to become even vaster, as Ronald Reagan began the Strategic Defense Initiative program, popularly known as "Star Wars", which envisioned providing a massive shield against nuclear weapons for the US and her allies. Thus, ELVRP capabilities (in the sense of a standardized and flexible launch vehicle) would be needed more than ever, both for the vast constellation of satellites that would detect and manage the battle against Soviet nuclear warheads, and the planned fleet of space-based weapons to destroy them. There was just one catch: The ELVRP vehicles would not actually be able to launch some of those satellites. The large chemical laser satellites, in particular, were too heavy and too large for the maximum configuration of the Delta 4000 to accommodate, necessitating additional vehicle designs. For the future, the military would require a true heavy-lift vehicle. This, naturally, drew the attention of NASA even in the early planning stages.
Almost since it had been introduced, NASA had been searching for a vehicle to replace or augment the Saturn IC. On paper a terrific rocket, with relatively low cost and high payload, in practice it had a number of (admittedly minor) flaws. It had simply proved more expensive and more problematic than planned. Many in the agency, moreover, felt that the road not taken of a "space shuttle" capable of repeatedly flying back and forth to space, needing only a little maintenance between each mission, was far superior to the practice of throwing the booster away after each flight. However, NASA's replacement programs had always foundered on the issue of cost. It would cost billions of dollars to develop a replacement vehicle, and Congress simply would not shell out the money with the brand-new (relatively speaking) Saturn IC being produced. In this environment, the ELVRP offered an opportunity NASA simply could not pass up, especially with several companies proposing to build heavy-lift variants capable of lifting between 20 and 60 tons to LEO. Given the completion of the basic Spacelab goals and the never-quite-buried desire of NASA to return to its glory days of flying to the Moon, having a military-subsidized launch vehicle that could easily launch space station components for the post-Spacelab station which was in early definitional stages or even perhaps a Moon mission was a godsend. Naturally, NASA pushed to become a member of the ELVRP II program.
Just as naturally, the Air Force and NRO pushed back. The entire concept of the program, after all, was to reduce launch costs and increase launch rates. Man-rated vehicles tended to be more expensive and have less performance than non-man-rated vehicles, and NASA would require man-rating for a Saturn IC replacement. Further, NASA tended to be viewed negatively at the Air Force, full of pointy-headed scientists with little ability to manage projects effectively (ignoring both the many successful NASA projects, sometimes born out of the most highly-pointed NASA labs, and the many failed Air Force ones), and both organizations feared possibly significant impacts to their launch schedules (especially with the many expected SDI payloads) due to NASA demand for launchers. Nevertheless, advocacy by supporters (including so-called “space state” congressmen and groups like the NSO and the Selene Group) that NASA must have access to any new heavy lifter (not to mention the additional dollars and missions that NASA could bring to the table) slowly won out. In 1981, they were added to the program as an (admittedly junior) partner. NASA would, indeed, be allowed to procure the final vehicle, and to work with the Air Force on the requirements (including those of man-rating). However, these oversight abilities were limited, and this would play a role in the final vehicle selection.
Eyes Turned Skyward, Post #21
By the time the Delta 4000 made its first flight in 1980 from Cape Canaveral Launch Complex 40, the ELVRP was more than its name indicated; it was nothing less than a whole-scale replacement of the way space launch, at least in the US military, was to be thought of and used. The Delta 4000 program had itself become just a small, if important, part of a vast project. In 1981, the entire project was about to become even vaster, as Ronald Reagan began the Strategic Defense Initiative program, popularly known as "Star Wars", which envisioned providing a massive shield against nuclear weapons for the US and her allies. Thus, ELVRP capabilities (in the sense of a standardized and flexible launch vehicle) would be needed more than ever, both for the vast constellation of satellites that would detect and manage the battle against Soviet nuclear warheads, and the planned fleet of space-based weapons to destroy them. There was just one catch: The ELVRP vehicles would not actually be able to launch some of those satellites. The large chemical laser satellites, in particular, were too heavy and too large for the maximum configuration of the Delta 4000 to accommodate, necessitating additional vehicle designs. For the future, the military would require a true heavy-lift vehicle. This, naturally, drew the attention of NASA even in the early planning stages.
Almost since it had been introduced, NASA had been searching for a vehicle to replace or augment the Saturn IC. On paper a terrific rocket, with relatively low cost and high payload, in practice it had a number of (admittedly minor) flaws. It had simply proved more expensive and more problematic than planned. Many in the agency, moreover, felt that the road not taken of a "space shuttle" capable of repeatedly flying back and forth to space, needing only a little maintenance between each mission, was far superior to the practice of throwing the booster away after each flight. However, NASA's replacement programs had always foundered on the issue of cost. It would cost billions of dollars to develop a replacement vehicle, and Congress simply would not shell out the money with the brand-new (relatively speaking) Saturn IC being produced. In this environment, the ELVRP offered an opportunity NASA simply could not pass up, especially with several companies proposing to build heavy-lift variants capable of lifting between 20 and 60 tons to LEO. Given the completion of the basic Spacelab goals and the never-quite-buried desire of NASA to return to its glory days of flying to the Moon, having a military-subsidized launch vehicle that could easily launch space station components for the post-Spacelab station which was in early definitional stages or even perhaps a Moon mission was a godsend. Naturally, NASA pushed to become a member of the ELVRP II program.
Just as naturally, the Air Force and NRO pushed back. The entire concept of the program, after all, was to reduce launch costs and increase launch rates. Man-rated vehicles tended to be more expensive and have less performance than non-man-rated vehicles, and NASA would require man-rating for a Saturn IC replacement. Further, NASA tended to be viewed negatively at the Air Force, full of pointy-headed scientists with little ability to manage projects effectively (ignoring both the many successful NASA projects, sometimes born out of the most highly-pointed NASA labs, and the many failed Air Force ones), and both organizations feared possibly significant impacts to their launch schedules (especially with the many expected SDI payloads) due to NASA demand for launchers. Nevertheless, advocacy by supporters (including so-called “space state” congressmen and groups like the NSO and the Selene Group) that NASA must have access to any new heavy lifter (not to mention the additional dollars and missions that NASA could bring to the table) slowly won out. In 1981, they were added to the program as an (admittedly junior) partner. NASA would, indeed, be allowed to procure the final vehicle, and to work with the Air Force on the requirements (including those of man-rating). However, these oversight abilities were limited, and this would play a role in the final vehicle selection.
Yay, an update at last!
And with Reaganism in the works now - read: jacked up public spending and slashed taxes - it's going to cause a lot of problems further down the line - read: 1990s. But that's for then, right now it's the heady days of the 1980s, and the military is getting one hell of a boost. So now is the best time for them to work on new LVs. OTL, the Titan IV was only developed in 1986 following the Challenger Disaster, towards the end of the boom. And to be perfectly honest, it wasn't that good, having less payload abiltiy than STS, a below 90% launch success rate - 35 of 39 launches AFAIK - and suffering from extreme inflexibility.
ITTL, since ELVs are all that there are, getting as wide a payload range for a given design as is practically possible will be a must if they want to keep the costs under control. One reason I went with my Argo design in my TL. While I'm more than willing to bet good money that that's what's gonna happen here. The questions in question are: What design? What payload range? And primary users?
Obviously this will have implications for the Soviet side of things, though it should not hurt as much - IMHO - without Energia/Buran eating up 50% of their annual Space Budget IIRC. I would see a Zenit-type LV in the works with CCBs featured for the larger payloads. Guess we'll all have to wait and see.
All of which I suspect will be covered in the following couple of posts.
And with Reaganism in the works now - read: jacked up public spending and slashed taxes - it's going to cause a lot of problems further down the line - read: 1990s. But that's for then, right now it's the heady days of the 1980s, and the military is getting one hell of a boost. So now is the best time for them to work on new LVs. OTL, the Titan IV was only developed in 1986 following the Challenger Disaster, towards the end of the boom. And to be perfectly honest, it wasn't that good, having less payload abiltiy than STS, a below 90% launch success rate - 35 of 39 launches AFAIK - and suffering from extreme inflexibility.
ITTL, since ELVs are all that there are, getting as wide a payload range for a given design as is practically possible will be a must if they want to keep the costs under control. One reason I went with my Argo design in my TL. While I'm more than willing to bet good money that that's what's gonna happen here. The questions in question are: What design? What payload range? And primary users?
Obviously this will have implications for the Soviet side of things, though it should not hurt as much - IMHO - without Energia/Buran eating up 50% of their annual Space Budget IIRC. I would see a Zenit-type LV in the works with CCBs featured for the larger payloads. Guess we'll all have to wait and see.
All of which I suspect will be covered in the following couple of posts.
The NSO is really threading the needle here. They would undoubtedly condemn SDI in principle while still insisting that NASA be allowed to take advantage of the DOD's outlays. Kind of two-faced, if you ask me, but hopefully the result will be worth a few moral contortions. The question is, will those contortions cause any backlash?
An 80s space-race has been mentioned; does this mean more dollars for SDI overall? Will the race be entirely military or will prestige and/or scientific goals be a factor as well?
An 80s space-race has been mentioned; does this mean more dollars for SDI overall? Will the race be entirely military or will prestige and/or scientific goals be a factor as well?
Prestige and scientific goals were what allowed Apollo to succeed at all. For a second space race, they should be essential. Especially as cover for the military side of things.
I'm guessing the next update has been delayed. Any idea as to when it'll be ready.
Bahamut: the second part of ELVRP II is delayed due to an ongoing personal struggle with international espionage, designing specifications and proposals that make sense and the time required to implement them. On the other hand, what I can offer instead of a regular update is a guest post by none other than our very own Brainbin, master of all things cultural and author of the Turtledove-nominated and generally excellent timeline That Wacky Redhead. Brainbin said it'd be up sometime around 8:00 EST. Having seen it, I think it's awesome and I hope everyone else will too.
Say WHAT!?! Espionage!?!
No wonder it's been causing you so many issues! It'll be something worth looking forward to then.
Perhaps "intelligence" is the better term. The thing is that while you have no knowledge of the Soviet program at this time (though I'm well aware of your speculations and that you've pestered to get more than thatSay WHAT!?! Espionage!?!
), the Americans will have at least some, through various channels from flyovers and orbital imagery to human intelligence. This will play a role in the specs they lay out for ELVRP II and how fast they expect a turnaround--and the budget they'll be allowed. Since the results of ELVRP II have such a massive role in the future of this TL, it's something I want to do right, and that's got me second-guessing myself a lot.
Indeed it shall be.
Interlude #1: A Brief Moment of Culture—Star Trek: The New Voyages
Salutations, everyone! I am the Brainbin, and I'm the author of That Wacky Redhead, a timeline which e of pi has most generously plugged here on a number of occasions. To make a long story short, the subject matter of my TL inspired e of pi to contact me just over one month ago, and invite me to collaborate on this one. I was both flattered and tickled by the offer, and our continued discussions eventually resulted in this update (among other things). Consider it a look at the reality of TTL from a slightly different perspective. I consider it an honour to be affiliated with this timeline so, without further ado, allow me to present...
Eyes Turned Skyward, Interlude #1
The many successes of the space program naturally created a hunger in American audiences for entertainment that used the vast reaches of outer space as a setting, and as a backdrop for adventure. Hollywood producers attempted to feed this hunger with a wide array of television series, films, comic books, literature… all with mixed results.
Surprisingly, it was those works that predated the moon landings, and the further exploits of NASA, which seemed to resonate most strongly with people. 2001: A Space Odyssey, released in 1968, was dismissed at the time as a slow, ponderous, and meaningless empty shell of special effects; however, the counter-culture had rediscovered the movie in the early 1970s and duly turned it into the epic drug trip. And in the intervening years, it was also beginning to accrue some serious critical appreciation.
Still, no other work of science fiction had captured the popular consciousness quite like Star Trek. An action-adventure-oriented program which nonetheless explored moral dilemmas through the use of allegory, the program ran for three seasons in the late 1960s, to low ratings. However, despite being a bottom-dweller in terms of overall viewers, it was one of the top-rated shows on the air in terms of valuable demographics – those viewers who were young, urban, educated, and affluent. Word-of-mouth was also superb, and it was this combination of factors that gave the show legs after its inevitable cancellation.
Star Trek became known as “the show that wouldn’t die”, as it took off in syndication despite having only produced and aired 79 episodes; the minimum standard was generally an even 100, so that episodes could be “stripped” (aired five times a week, once per weekday) and placed in a re-run cycle that prevented viewers from getting bored (20 weeks, or just under five full cycles in two years). But audiences seemed to have an insatiable appetite for Star Trek, with the appeal of the show proving surprisingly simple to elucidate: the warm, appealing characters, and the terrific chemistry among the actors portraying them; the clever, eminently quotable dialogue, which transcended the uneven plotting and repetitive storylines; and, perhaps most importantly, the optimistic tone, which promised a future free of not only disease and poverty, but one of racial harmony and a desire to solve problems peacefully.
The demand for new Star Trek only seemed to grow stronger, louder, and more urgent with time. The easiest and cheapest solution was a cartoon, produced by the notoriously shoddy and slapdash animation studio, Filmation. Star Trek (the animated series) began airing on NBC in 1973 – that network had been the very same one to run the original series, and cancel it in 1969, but their contrition was palpable… as were their declining ratings. But even so, the new show was relegated to a Saturday morning timeslot, and production was limited to 22 episodes at any rate; despite the surprisingly high quality relative to other programs in the same timeslot and medium, the animated series would ultimately function as nothing more than a quick fix. Audiences wanted their beloved characters, and their beloved ship, the USS Enterprise, back in the flesh. But by late 1974, as the first run of the animated series came to a close, new opportunities began to unveil themselves…
Ever since Lucille Ball had sold her production company, Desilu, to mogul Charles Bluhdorn in 1967, Star Trek had been the property of Paramount Television, a subsidiary of his conglomerate, Gulf+Western. Those in charge of Paramount were ambivalent about the success of the property, but as sure as money talks, they eventually began seeing dollar signs. Ideas for developing another Star Trek project were tabled as early as 1974, and in the end it was the space program that helped get new Star Trek off the ground. The Skylab missions were taking place at around this time, and the idea of making great discoveries in outer space couldn’t help but remind people of boldly going where no man has gone before. Initial discussions about making a full-length motion picture featuring the crew of the Enterprise – and possibly filmed in Britain with local technicians to save money – quickly foundered; it became clear that Star Trek would have to return in the familiar, hour-long, weekly format. [1] The form that the vehicle for its grand return would take, on the other hand, was still another question entirely…
Since the final collapse of the DuMont network in 1956, there had only been three commercial networks on the air in the United States: ABC, NBC, and CBS. Various outfits had attempted to launch the fabled “fourth network” over the years, but in all cases, even the grandest of these plans ultimately went nowhere. But that wasn’t enough to warn Paramount – which had the backing of a mega-conglomerate in Gulf+Western – away from throwing their own hat into the ring. When newly-promoted executive Barry Diller suggested the enterprise, Bluhdorn was willing to back the venture – but then, he had also been willing to buy Desilu, only learning after the fact how very expensive their productions were. And once again, Charlie was letting big ideas come before the bottom line.
Plans to develop what became known as the Paramount Television Service, or PMTS, endured for nearly two years, and it was quickly decided that a new Star Trek series would headline this hypothetical new network. Creator Gene Roddenberry, who had attempted to sell several other story ideas, but never got any further than a pilot movie, was brought back as showrunner. Fellow Star Trek scribes David Gerrold, John Meredyth Lucas, and D.C. Fontana, as well as producer and close Roddenberry confidant Robert H. Justman, all came on board to assist with development. As for the original cast, many of them had been profoundly typecast by the original series and were unable to branch out into other work – at least, nothing respectable. The sole exception was Leonard Nimoy, who had played breakout character Mr. Spock, and it was he who was the lone holdout against returning. Executives figured that this was merely a negotiating ploy; but to their surprise, he seemed to mean it – with his objections culminating in his 1975 autobiography, infamously entitled I Am Not Spock. From that point forward, it became clear that Nimoy would not be returning to the series – at least, not in any regular capacity.
Plans to launch PMTS continued apace, even in the face of a global recession, until sanity finally prevailed in early 1976. Plans for a new Star Trek series – tentatively titled Phase II – would continue, with Paramount deciding that perhaps selling the series into first-run syndication would be the ticket. Preliminary negotiations to do just that began in earnest shortly thereafter. By this time, the sets had been designed, the scripts had been written, and casting was underway. Many millions of dollars had already been sunk into this venture, and Bluhdorn was becoming anxious for some kind of return on his investment. To everyone’s surprise, the continuing exploits of NASA were what provided the catalyst…
The Viking 1 probe landed on Mars on that most patriotic of days: July 4, 1976, the bicentennial of American independence; and that was only the crowning achievement of a wide variety of public outreach efforts by NASA, which also included a live press conference held by the crew of Skylab 5. Images of the Martian landscape were transmitted over the next few days, and they immediately enraptured the world. To top the whole thing off, more than a few people noticed the eerie similarity to the surface of the planet Vulcan, as depicted in Star Trek. This massive surge of enthusiasm by the general public was enough to incite the executives at NBC – now the #3 network behind both the established CBS and the surging ABC – to contact Paramount, and offer both their money and a plum timeslot for the very same property that the old guard had so callously cast aside a mere seven years before. Primetime on a network sure beat off-hours on some unreachable UHF station, so Paramount acquiesced.
Star Trek: The New Voyages began airing on September 21, 1977 – a Wednesday – at 9:00 PM. [2] Plans to air the two-part season premiere, entitled “In Thy Image”, as a TV movie were scuttled by Bluhdorn himself; he knew that a full series pickup would then become conditional on this hypothetical telefilm’s ratings. He insisted on a full-season order, and NBC was desperate enough to accept his terms. (By this time, rumours of a network picking up the long-in-development series had leaked out into the trade papers, and from there into the gossip columns. And then the letters started coming in to Rockefeller Center by the truckload…)
In addition to virtually all of the old regulars, many of whom had been promoted (with James T. Kirk being offered a flag position, but declining so that he could remain in command of the Enterprise), three new regulars, all of whom were younger than the original cast (by now in their forties and fifties), were added: Executive Officer Willard Decker, the son of Commodore Matt Decker from the classic episode “The Doomsday Machine”; [3] Ilia, the new Navigator (Chekov had been transferred over to Security), and a Deltan who had peculiar sexual and empathic abilities; and Xon, the new Science Officer, replacing (as best he could) the absent character of Mr. Spock. Leonard Nimoy held firm in his refusal to return as a regular, but he did agree to appear on an infrequent basis; Spock was now seeking spiritual enlightenment on Vulcan, having left Starfleet after the completion of the original five-year mission. Without question, his absence was a powerful blow to the chemistry and camaraderie of the crew, and it was keenly felt on the set, and by the viewers at home.
In terms of plot, “In Thy Image” was very similar to the original series episode “The Changeling”. [4] A mysterious anomaly, apparently gifted with sentience, is en route to Earth, seeking its origins. Wreaking great havoc in its wake, this entity, which calls itself Veejur, is soon discovered to have originated as the Voyager XVIII space probe, launched from Earth as the last testament of a planet on the verge of a potentially apocalyptic conflict (whether this conflict is World War III, or the previously-mentioned Eugenics Wars, is never made entirely clear). Another memorable two-part episode from the first season was “Kitumba”, written by Lucas; it served as the first in-depth exploration of the society of those most enduring Star Trek enemies, the Klingons.
The storyline called for the Enterprise to have been refit, but the new exterior design was surprisingly conservative and highly reminiscent of the original. The interiors, however, were radically different: the style was more naturalistic and understated, in contrast to the garish colour schemes of the 1960s (which were, of course, intended to show off the then-new technology of colour television). Sickbay, engineering, and the recreation room all saw major overhauls. The iconic bridge set, however, was kept mostly intact… save for the connection to the new “Ready Room” set, which had been championed by Robert Justman, drawing on his own experiences in the U.S. Navy. [5] It functioned as an “office” for the Captain, away from the “front-line” atmosphere on the bridge. Though infrequently used at first, given Kirk’s zeal for directly commanding his crew and especially his beloved ship, the set eventually became the go-to location for one-on-one conversations between Kirk and his various advisors… away from the many eavesdropping bridge officers. This new set was also emblematic of the increased creature comforts on the refit Enterprise.
On the whole, the visual effects were excellent, and certainly put those of the original series to shame; but the stories were – with a few exceptions – considered about on par in terms of quality. The social commentary was mostly along the same lines – but what had been daring and bold for 1966 was already surprisingly mainstream in 1977; perhaps this was good news for society in general, but not for a show with such a trailblazing, progressive reputation. Critical opinion, though generally positive, hardly viewed The New Voyages as revolutionary or pioneering, in the same way that the original series had been.
Ratings, on the other hand, were gangbusters. The many loyal devotees, also known as “Trekkies”, watched the show in droves. More casual fans, along with curious onlookers, also decided to give the new Star Trek a chance; surprisingly, most of them returned the following week, and the week after that. Part of this was due to the serendipitous timing: Star Wars, released that summer, was the toast of Hollywood, and had rapidly become the highest-grossing film of all time. The hunger for more science-fiction and the hunger for more Star Trek, when taken together, seemed to have a geometric effect. The success of Close Encounters of the Third Kind made this even more apparent. The frequent breakthroughs in real-life space exploration were the icing on the cake, and indeed, the irresistible opportunity for the intrepid space explorers of both fact and fiction to come together resulted in many memorable photo opportunities which bolstered both sides during the show’s second season.
Perhaps the most famous of these was the attendance of most of the cast and crew at the launch of Spacelab 1, the station being sent into orbit on the very last of the Saturn V rockets (and, a few hours later, the launch of Spacelab 2, which held the crew that would man said station, on the first manned Saturn 1-C), in April of 1978, shortly after filming had wrapped on the show’s first season. Roddenberry himself was among those present, and was apparently tickled when one of the astronauts allegedly referred to him by his famous nickname, “The Great Bird of the Galaxy”. The crew of the Enterprise also interacted extensively with the crew at NASA throughout the planning stages of the Spacelab 4 mission, which launched in November of that same year; James “Scotty” Doohan made surprisingly frequent personal appearances in Houston: he visited a training mockup of the orbital station, the Neutral Buoyancy Lab, and, most importantly, Mission Control; he even joked that “on our show, Mission Control is on the ship.” In addition to Doohan’s many exploits, the run-up to the mission also saw the famous “Meeting of the Doctors”: DeForest “Dr. McCoy” Kelley personally met with Dr. William Thornston, an astronaut who would fly aboard Spacelab 4, and who in doing so would become the first M.D. in space. [6] In return, two astronauts, both of whom were from the new Astronaut Group 8, recruited in 1977, appeared on The New Voyages during its second season. Don Hunt, a pilot, was fittingly seen at the Helm in one episode, accepting the order by Captain Kirk to proceed at warp speed just before the end credits rolled. Peggy Barnes, a flight scientist, appeared with Scotty in Engineering, delivering a progress report to her superior officer. Both Hunt and Barnes were affirmed “Trekkies”, having watched the original series in their youth.
Despite the ratings success of the first two seasons of The New Voyages, both NBC and Paramount had many problems with the way that the show was being run. After the eight years that Star Trek had been off the air and despite his utter lack of success in that interim, Roddenberry seemed to be letting the legacy of the original series go to his head. The ideological bent of Star Trek was beginning to take on a dogmatic significance to him, and his difficult personality made him few friends among the higher-ups. He had wisely surrounded himself with his loyal acolytes, but this insulation tactic could only do so much. The straw that broke the camel’s back was the problem of budget overruns, and continuing delays in the production of new episodes. NBC was in no mood to cancel the program; it was still the top-rated show on the network, ahead of “Little House on the Prairie” and “CHiPs”, among their few other successes. It was eventually decided that Roddenberry would have to be quietly replaced, or, at the very least, installed into a cozy sinecure. And Paramount had just the right man lined up for the job…
Harve Bennett was an experienced television producer, and had worked on several genre programs (including the smash hit “The Six Million Dollar Man” and its spinoff “The Bionic Woman”) during his tenure with Universal Television. Only recently hired by Paramount, he was deemed the best possible candidate to take the reins of The New Voyages. He accepted the position, though like Fred Freiberger before him, he did not do so without facing considerable backlash. Roddenberry, eleven years before, had cast Star Trek aside for the sake of his ego; this time, Star Trek was casting him aside, and said ego did not take this well. He was given two new titles: Consulting Producer and Executive Creative Consultant [7]; neither of these yielded anywhere close to the influence held by his vacated position of Executive Producer. Justman, the Supervising Producer and Roddenberry’s closest ally, ended his involvement with the show in support of his friend – though publicly, his true motive was never revealed. [8] Fontana, Gerrold, and Lucas, on the other hand, all continued their involvement with The New Voyages throughout the remainder of its run.
The most memorable episode of the third season, marking the beginning of Bennett’s tenure as showrunner, was “Space Spores”. A sequel to the original series episode “Space Seed”, it resulted from Bennett’s exhaustive review of the original 79 episodes, culminating in its selection as the prime candidate for a sequel: it was open-ended, and it contained a captivating performance by Ricardo Montalban as Khan Noonien Singh, a genetic superman from a bygone age, flung centuries into the future. By this time, Montalban was starring as the enigmatic Mr. Roarke on the escapist anthology series, “Fantasy Island”. Luckily, and thanks to Bennett’s connections with series producer Aaron Spelling, all parties were able to come together and rearrange Montalban’s schedule so that he could return. In the interim, he studied his original performance as Khan from “Space Seed”, in hopes of recapturing its essence. Also returning was Madlyn Rhue, as Khan’s wife, the former Starfleet Lt. Marla McGivers. Rhue was in the early stages of multiple sclerosis, but she still had (limited) mobility, and with the help of creative camera angles, and plenty of surfaces and supports for her to lean on, they were able to disguise this fact within the episode proper. [9] The plot of the episode entailed outlying Federation outposts being attacked by an unknown enemy; the Enterprise, sent to investigate, tracks the raiders back to their planet of origin: Ceti Alpha V! It turns out that Khan and his followers, gifted with superhuman strength, intelligence, and ambition, have devoted all their efforts not to subduing their planet, but the universe; and already have a working aerospace industry to show for it. Khan invites Kirk to his ship, the two meeting face-to-face for the first time in several years. [10] Though Khan is a brilliant tactician, he lacks Kirk’s superior strategic mind, and is ultimately bested. Khan, growing tired of the “impure” and “diluted” Humans of the modern Federation (a nod to Roddenberry’s ideas of the post-modern human, and an ironic contrast to the notion of Khan and his followers as Homo Superior), decides to lead his followers deep into unexplored space, to find their own destiny, promising that one day he shall return.
For the most part, Bennett’s five-season run on the show was considered superior to Roddenberry’s tenure, though this was a hotly contested issue among the Star Trek fandom. Viewership numbers, though they remained solid throughout the show’s run, were never quite as high as they had been in the late 1970s, and after seven seasons, it was decided to bring the show to an end in 1984. By this time, NBC had staged a remarkable recovery, and The New Voyages was only becoming more and more expensive; even the frugal cost-cutting measures enacted by Bennett could only postpone the inevitable. NBC no longer needed Star Trek, and the sure bet of income headed Paramount’s way from selling their 154 episodes of The New Voyages into syndication was enough to hold them off from challenging the network. Even into the 1980s, the original series continued to be one of the most widely-syndicated programs on television; another Star Trek, with double the episode count of the first, was already beyond their wildest dreams in that regard.
So ended the run of Star Trek: The New Voyages. Attempts following the end of the series to spin the franchise off into movie instalments ultimately went nowhere, but the legacy of Star Trek continued to make its presence known in all fields of science and technology, in the annals of popular culture, and, most importantly, in its continuing influence on, and relationship with, the space program…
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[1] This initial movie plan was indeed green-lit and became known as Planet of the Titans; it was abandoned and development on Phase II commenced shortly thereafter. Here it’s decided to get started with a TV series right away; this gives them a lot more time to beat the clock (that clock being the twin releases of Star Wars and then Close Encounters, which will undoubtedly convince the executives to go ahead with a movie release instead).
[2] Airing in this timeslot IOTL was a Western, of all things, called “The Oregon Trail” (not to be confused with the legendary edutainment game of the same name).
[3] This was mentioned in multiple sources but was never made explicitly clear IOTL in “canon” (i.e. the movie itself). ITTL, it is firmly established that he is living in the shadow of his “failed” father within the first few episodes, setting up the inevitable “return” of the Planet Killers (yes, that’s a plural) during the Bennett years.
[4] And to OTL Star Trek: the Motion Picture, of course.
[5] Justman championed this idea for the development of TNG; as he was not involved with the development of Phase II IOTL, the Captain’s Quarters doubled as a prototype ready room (as seen throughout the movies).
[6] These events happen largely in place of the legendary Space Shuttle Enterprise developments in 1976 IOTL.
[7] IOTL, Roddenberry was given the title of “Executive Consultant” in the wake of The Motion Picture. As ITTL, Bennett held all of the creative control, and Roddenberry’s influence was limited to a few completely ignored suggestions.
[8] This is the same reason that Justman left The Next Generation IOTL, as Roddenberry’s creative control weakened after repeated struggles with Paramount, and in particular their key lieutenant, Rick Berman. Publicly, he claimed no ulterior motive beyond retirement.
[9] Rhue, confined to a wheelchair by the early 1980s, was not brought back for The Wrath of Khan IOTL. In respect for her, Bennett did not recast the role. Obviously, her condition could easily be accommodated for by the plot of the movie, but perhaps those involved decided that it would be too “on the nose”. Rhue continued to act, despite her condition; as did her onscreen spouse, Montalban, who was also confined to a wheelchair in his later years.
[10] Famously, this did not happen in TWOK. And no, the number of years is never explicitly identified, though fandom estimates put it at seven (as opposed to the fifteen of OTL).
Eyes Turned Skyward, Interlude #1
The many successes of the space program naturally created a hunger in American audiences for entertainment that used the vast reaches of outer space as a setting, and as a backdrop for adventure. Hollywood producers attempted to feed this hunger with a wide array of television series, films, comic books, literature… all with mixed results.
Surprisingly, it was those works that predated the moon landings, and the further exploits of NASA, which seemed to resonate most strongly with people. 2001: A Space Odyssey, released in 1968, was dismissed at the time as a slow, ponderous, and meaningless empty shell of special effects; however, the counter-culture had rediscovered the movie in the early 1970s and duly turned it into the epic drug trip. And in the intervening years, it was also beginning to accrue some serious critical appreciation.
Still, no other work of science fiction had captured the popular consciousness quite like Star Trek. An action-adventure-oriented program which nonetheless explored moral dilemmas through the use of allegory, the program ran for three seasons in the late 1960s, to low ratings. However, despite being a bottom-dweller in terms of overall viewers, it was one of the top-rated shows on the air in terms of valuable demographics – those viewers who were young, urban, educated, and affluent. Word-of-mouth was also superb, and it was this combination of factors that gave the show legs after its inevitable cancellation.
Star Trek became known as “the show that wouldn’t die”, as it took off in syndication despite having only produced and aired 79 episodes; the minimum standard was generally an even 100, so that episodes could be “stripped” (aired five times a week, once per weekday) and placed in a re-run cycle that prevented viewers from getting bored (20 weeks, or just under five full cycles in two years). But audiences seemed to have an insatiable appetite for Star Trek, with the appeal of the show proving surprisingly simple to elucidate: the warm, appealing characters, and the terrific chemistry among the actors portraying them; the clever, eminently quotable dialogue, which transcended the uneven plotting and repetitive storylines; and, perhaps most importantly, the optimistic tone, which promised a future free of not only disease and poverty, but one of racial harmony and a desire to solve problems peacefully.
The demand for new Star Trek only seemed to grow stronger, louder, and more urgent with time. The easiest and cheapest solution was a cartoon, produced by the notoriously shoddy and slapdash animation studio, Filmation. Star Trek (the animated series) began airing on NBC in 1973 – that network had been the very same one to run the original series, and cancel it in 1969, but their contrition was palpable… as were their declining ratings. But even so, the new show was relegated to a Saturday morning timeslot, and production was limited to 22 episodes at any rate; despite the surprisingly high quality relative to other programs in the same timeslot and medium, the animated series would ultimately function as nothing more than a quick fix. Audiences wanted their beloved characters, and their beloved ship, the USS Enterprise, back in the flesh. But by late 1974, as the first run of the animated series came to a close, new opportunities began to unveil themselves…
Ever since Lucille Ball had sold her production company, Desilu, to mogul Charles Bluhdorn in 1967, Star Trek had been the property of Paramount Television, a subsidiary of his conglomerate, Gulf+Western. Those in charge of Paramount were ambivalent about the success of the property, but as sure as money talks, they eventually began seeing dollar signs. Ideas for developing another Star Trek project were tabled as early as 1974, and in the end it was the space program that helped get new Star Trek off the ground. The Skylab missions were taking place at around this time, and the idea of making great discoveries in outer space couldn’t help but remind people of boldly going where no man has gone before. Initial discussions about making a full-length motion picture featuring the crew of the Enterprise – and possibly filmed in Britain with local technicians to save money – quickly foundered; it became clear that Star Trek would have to return in the familiar, hour-long, weekly format. [1] The form that the vehicle for its grand return would take, on the other hand, was still another question entirely…
Since the final collapse of the DuMont network in 1956, there had only been three commercial networks on the air in the United States: ABC, NBC, and CBS. Various outfits had attempted to launch the fabled “fourth network” over the years, but in all cases, even the grandest of these plans ultimately went nowhere. But that wasn’t enough to warn Paramount – which had the backing of a mega-conglomerate in Gulf+Western – away from throwing their own hat into the ring. When newly-promoted executive Barry Diller suggested the enterprise, Bluhdorn was willing to back the venture – but then, he had also been willing to buy Desilu, only learning after the fact how very expensive their productions were. And once again, Charlie was letting big ideas come before the bottom line.
Plans to develop what became known as the Paramount Television Service, or PMTS, endured for nearly two years, and it was quickly decided that a new Star Trek series would headline this hypothetical new network. Creator Gene Roddenberry, who had attempted to sell several other story ideas, but never got any further than a pilot movie, was brought back as showrunner. Fellow Star Trek scribes David Gerrold, John Meredyth Lucas, and D.C. Fontana, as well as producer and close Roddenberry confidant Robert H. Justman, all came on board to assist with development. As for the original cast, many of them had been profoundly typecast by the original series and were unable to branch out into other work – at least, nothing respectable. The sole exception was Leonard Nimoy, who had played breakout character Mr. Spock, and it was he who was the lone holdout against returning. Executives figured that this was merely a negotiating ploy; but to their surprise, he seemed to mean it – with his objections culminating in his 1975 autobiography, infamously entitled I Am Not Spock. From that point forward, it became clear that Nimoy would not be returning to the series – at least, not in any regular capacity.
Plans to launch PMTS continued apace, even in the face of a global recession, until sanity finally prevailed in early 1976. Plans for a new Star Trek series – tentatively titled Phase II – would continue, with Paramount deciding that perhaps selling the series into first-run syndication would be the ticket. Preliminary negotiations to do just that began in earnest shortly thereafter. By this time, the sets had been designed, the scripts had been written, and casting was underway. Many millions of dollars had already been sunk into this venture, and Bluhdorn was becoming anxious for some kind of return on his investment. To everyone’s surprise, the continuing exploits of NASA were what provided the catalyst…
The Viking 1 probe landed on Mars on that most patriotic of days: July 4, 1976, the bicentennial of American independence; and that was only the crowning achievement of a wide variety of public outreach efforts by NASA, which also included a live press conference held by the crew of Skylab 5. Images of the Martian landscape were transmitted over the next few days, and they immediately enraptured the world. To top the whole thing off, more than a few people noticed the eerie similarity to the surface of the planet Vulcan, as depicted in Star Trek. This massive surge of enthusiasm by the general public was enough to incite the executives at NBC – now the #3 network behind both the established CBS and the surging ABC – to contact Paramount, and offer both their money and a plum timeslot for the very same property that the old guard had so callously cast aside a mere seven years before. Primetime on a network sure beat off-hours on some unreachable UHF station, so Paramount acquiesced.
Star Trek: The New Voyages began airing on September 21, 1977 – a Wednesday – at 9:00 PM. [2] Plans to air the two-part season premiere, entitled “In Thy Image”, as a TV movie were scuttled by Bluhdorn himself; he knew that a full series pickup would then become conditional on this hypothetical telefilm’s ratings. He insisted on a full-season order, and NBC was desperate enough to accept his terms. (By this time, rumours of a network picking up the long-in-development series had leaked out into the trade papers, and from there into the gossip columns. And then the letters started coming in to Rockefeller Center by the truckload…)
In addition to virtually all of the old regulars, many of whom had been promoted (with James T. Kirk being offered a flag position, but declining so that he could remain in command of the Enterprise), three new regulars, all of whom were younger than the original cast (by now in their forties and fifties), were added: Executive Officer Willard Decker, the son of Commodore Matt Decker from the classic episode “The Doomsday Machine”; [3] Ilia, the new Navigator (Chekov had been transferred over to Security), and a Deltan who had peculiar sexual and empathic abilities; and Xon, the new Science Officer, replacing (as best he could) the absent character of Mr. Spock. Leonard Nimoy held firm in his refusal to return as a regular, but he did agree to appear on an infrequent basis; Spock was now seeking spiritual enlightenment on Vulcan, having left Starfleet after the completion of the original five-year mission. Without question, his absence was a powerful blow to the chemistry and camaraderie of the crew, and it was keenly felt on the set, and by the viewers at home.
In terms of plot, “In Thy Image” was very similar to the original series episode “The Changeling”. [4] A mysterious anomaly, apparently gifted with sentience, is en route to Earth, seeking its origins. Wreaking great havoc in its wake, this entity, which calls itself Veejur, is soon discovered to have originated as the Voyager XVIII space probe, launched from Earth as the last testament of a planet on the verge of a potentially apocalyptic conflict (whether this conflict is World War III, or the previously-mentioned Eugenics Wars, is never made entirely clear). Another memorable two-part episode from the first season was “Kitumba”, written by Lucas; it served as the first in-depth exploration of the society of those most enduring Star Trek enemies, the Klingons.
The storyline called for the Enterprise to have been refit, but the new exterior design was surprisingly conservative and highly reminiscent of the original. The interiors, however, were radically different: the style was more naturalistic and understated, in contrast to the garish colour schemes of the 1960s (which were, of course, intended to show off the then-new technology of colour television). Sickbay, engineering, and the recreation room all saw major overhauls. The iconic bridge set, however, was kept mostly intact… save for the connection to the new “Ready Room” set, which had been championed by Robert Justman, drawing on his own experiences in the U.S. Navy. [5] It functioned as an “office” for the Captain, away from the “front-line” atmosphere on the bridge. Though infrequently used at first, given Kirk’s zeal for directly commanding his crew and especially his beloved ship, the set eventually became the go-to location for one-on-one conversations between Kirk and his various advisors… away from the many eavesdropping bridge officers. This new set was also emblematic of the increased creature comforts on the refit Enterprise.
On the whole, the visual effects were excellent, and certainly put those of the original series to shame; but the stories were – with a few exceptions – considered about on par in terms of quality. The social commentary was mostly along the same lines – but what had been daring and bold for 1966 was already surprisingly mainstream in 1977; perhaps this was good news for society in general, but not for a show with such a trailblazing, progressive reputation. Critical opinion, though generally positive, hardly viewed The New Voyages as revolutionary or pioneering, in the same way that the original series had been.
Ratings, on the other hand, were gangbusters. The many loyal devotees, also known as “Trekkies”, watched the show in droves. More casual fans, along with curious onlookers, also decided to give the new Star Trek a chance; surprisingly, most of them returned the following week, and the week after that. Part of this was due to the serendipitous timing: Star Wars, released that summer, was the toast of Hollywood, and had rapidly become the highest-grossing film of all time. The hunger for more science-fiction and the hunger for more Star Trek, when taken together, seemed to have a geometric effect. The success of Close Encounters of the Third Kind made this even more apparent. The frequent breakthroughs in real-life space exploration were the icing on the cake, and indeed, the irresistible opportunity for the intrepid space explorers of both fact and fiction to come together resulted in many memorable photo opportunities which bolstered both sides during the show’s second season.
Perhaps the most famous of these was the attendance of most of the cast and crew at the launch of Spacelab 1, the station being sent into orbit on the very last of the Saturn V rockets (and, a few hours later, the launch of Spacelab 2, which held the crew that would man said station, on the first manned Saturn 1-C), in April of 1978, shortly after filming had wrapped on the show’s first season. Roddenberry himself was among those present, and was apparently tickled when one of the astronauts allegedly referred to him by his famous nickname, “The Great Bird of the Galaxy”. The crew of the Enterprise also interacted extensively with the crew at NASA throughout the planning stages of the Spacelab 4 mission, which launched in November of that same year; James “Scotty” Doohan made surprisingly frequent personal appearances in Houston: he visited a training mockup of the orbital station, the Neutral Buoyancy Lab, and, most importantly, Mission Control; he even joked that “on our show, Mission Control is on the ship.” In addition to Doohan’s many exploits, the run-up to the mission also saw the famous “Meeting of the Doctors”: DeForest “Dr. McCoy” Kelley personally met with Dr. William Thornston, an astronaut who would fly aboard Spacelab 4, and who in doing so would become the first M.D. in space. [6] In return, two astronauts, both of whom were from the new Astronaut Group 8, recruited in 1977, appeared on The New Voyages during its second season. Don Hunt, a pilot, was fittingly seen at the Helm in one episode, accepting the order by Captain Kirk to proceed at warp speed just before the end credits rolled. Peggy Barnes, a flight scientist, appeared with Scotty in Engineering, delivering a progress report to her superior officer. Both Hunt and Barnes were affirmed “Trekkies”, having watched the original series in their youth.
Despite the ratings success of the first two seasons of The New Voyages, both NBC and Paramount had many problems with the way that the show was being run. After the eight years that Star Trek had been off the air and despite his utter lack of success in that interim, Roddenberry seemed to be letting the legacy of the original series go to his head. The ideological bent of Star Trek was beginning to take on a dogmatic significance to him, and his difficult personality made him few friends among the higher-ups. He had wisely surrounded himself with his loyal acolytes, but this insulation tactic could only do so much. The straw that broke the camel’s back was the problem of budget overruns, and continuing delays in the production of new episodes. NBC was in no mood to cancel the program; it was still the top-rated show on the network, ahead of “Little House on the Prairie” and “CHiPs”, among their few other successes. It was eventually decided that Roddenberry would have to be quietly replaced, or, at the very least, installed into a cozy sinecure. And Paramount had just the right man lined up for the job…
Harve Bennett was an experienced television producer, and had worked on several genre programs (including the smash hit “The Six Million Dollar Man” and its spinoff “The Bionic Woman”) during his tenure with Universal Television. Only recently hired by Paramount, he was deemed the best possible candidate to take the reins of The New Voyages. He accepted the position, though like Fred Freiberger before him, he did not do so without facing considerable backlash. Roddenberry, eleven years before, had cast Star Trek aside for the sake of his ego; this time, Star Trek was casting him aside, and said ego did not take this well. He was given two new titles: Consulting Producer and Executive Creative Consultant [7]; neither of these yielded anywhere close to the influence held by his vacated position of Executive Producer. Justman, the Supervising Producer and Roddenberry’s closest ally, ended his involvement with the show in support of his friend – though publicly, his true motive was never revealed. [8] Fontana, Gerrold, and Lucas, on the other hand, all continued their involvement with The New Voyages throughout the remainder of its run.
The most memorable episode of the third season, marking the beginning of Bennett’s tenure as showrunner, was “Space Spores”. A sequel to the original series episode “Space Seed”, it resulted from Bennett’s exhaustive review of the original 79 episodes, culminating in its selection as the prime candidate for a sequel: it was open-ended, and it contained a captivating performance by Ricardo Montalban as Khan Noonien Singh, a genetic superman from a bygone age, flung centuries into the future. By this time, Montalban was starring as the enigmatic Mr. Roarke on the escapist anthology series, “Fantasy Island”. Luckily, and thanks to Bennett’s connections with series producer Aaron Spelling, all parties were able to come together and rearrange Montalban’s schedule so that he could return. In the interim, he studied his original performance as Khan from “Space Seed”, in hopes of recapturing its essence. Also returning was Madlyn Rhue, as Khan’s wife, the former Starfleet Lt. Marla McGivers. Rhue was in the early stages of multiple sclerosis, but she still had (limited) mobility, and with the help of creative camera angles, and plenty of surfaces and supports for her to lean on, they were able to disguise this fact within the episode proper. [9] The plot of the episode entailed outlying Federation outposts being attacked by an unknown enemy; the Enterprise, sent to investigate, tracks the raiders back to their planet of origin: Ceti Alpha V! It turns out that Khan and his followers, gifted with superhuman strength, intelligence, and ambition, have devoted all their efforts not to subduing their planet, but the universe; and already have a working aerospace industry to show for it. Khan invites Kirk to his ship, the two meeting face-to-face for the first time in several years. [10] Though Khan is a brilliant tactician, he lacks Kirk’s superior strategic mind, and is ultimately bested. Khan, growing tired of the “impure” and “diluted” Humans of the modern Federation (a nod to Roddenberry’s ideas of the post-modern human, and an ironic contrast to the notion of Khan and his followers as Homo Superior), decides to lead his followers deep into unexplored space, to find their own destiny, promising that one day he shall return.
For the most part, Bennett’s five-season run on the show was considered superior to Roddenberry’s tenure, though this was a hotly contested issue among the Star Trek fandom. Viewership numbers, though they remained solid throughout the show’s run, were never quite as high as they had been in the late 1970s, and after seven seasons, it was decided to bring the show to an end in 1984. By this time, NBC had staged a remarkable recovery, and The New Voyages was only becoming more and more expensive; even the frugal cost-cutting measures enacted by Bennett could only postpone the inevitable. NBC no longer needed Star Trek, and the sure bet of income headed Paramount’s way from selling their 154 episodes of The New Voyages into syndication was enough to hold them off from challenging the network. Even into the 1980s, the original series continued to be one of the most widely-syndicated programs on television; another Star Trek, with double the episode count of the first, was already beyond their wildest dreams in that regard.
So ended the run of Star Trek: The New Voyages. Attempts following the end of the series to spin the franchise off into movie instalments ultimately went nowhere, but the legacy of Star Trek continued to make its presence known in all fields of science and technology, in the annals of popular culture, and, most importantly, in its continuing influence on, and relationship with, the space program…
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[1] This initial movie plan was indeed green-lit and became known as Planet of the Titans; it was abandoned and development on Phase II commenced shortly thereafter. Here it’s decided to get started with a TV series right away; this gives them a lot more time to beat the clock (that clock being the twin releases of Star Wars and then Close Encounters, which will undoubtedly convince the executives to go ahead with a movie release instead).
[2] Airing in this timeslot IOTL was a Western, of all things, called “The Oregon Trail” (not to be confused with the legendary edutainment game of the same name).
[3] This was mentioned in multiple sources but was never made explicitly clear IOTL in “canon” (i.e. the movie itself). ITTL, it is firmly established that he is living in the shadow of his “failed” father within the first few episodes, setting up the inevitable “return” of the Planet Killers (yes, that’s a plural) during the Bennett years.
[4] And to OTL Star Trek: the Motion Picture, of course.
[5] Justman championed this idea for the development of TNG; as he was not involved with the development of Phase II IOTL, the Captain’s Quarters doubled as a prototype ready room (as seen throughout the movies).
[6] These events happen largely in place of the legendary Space Shuttle Enterprise developments in 1976 IOTL.
[7] IOTL, Roddenberry was given the title of “Executive Consultant” in the wake of The Motion Picture. As ITTL, Bennett held all of the creative control, and Roddenberry’s influence was limited to a few completely ignored suggestions.
[8] This is the same reason that Justman left The Next Generation IOTL, as Roddenberry’s creative control weakened after repeated struggles with Paramount, and in particular their key lieutenant, Rick Berman. Publicly, he claimed no ulterior motive beyond retirement.
[9] Rhue, confined to a wheelchair by the early 1980s, was not brought back for The Wrath of Khan IOTL. In respect for her, Bennett did not recast the role. Obviously, her condition could easily be accommodated for by the plot of the movie, but perhaps those involved decided that it would be too “on the nose”. Rhue continued to act, despite her condition; as did her onscreen spouse, Montalban, who was also confined to a wheelchair in his later years.
[10] Famously, this did not happen in TWOK. And no, the number of years is never explicitly identified, though fandom estimates put it at seven (as opposed to the fifteen of OTL).
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So we get a new Star Trek Series which coincides with Star Wars? Lasting the same 7 years as Star Trek: The Next Generation OTL. I'm guessing there won't be a ST:TNG ITTL or if so, a lot later than OTL. This really isn't an area where I'm all that good at so it's hard for me to really comment on it, though you do appear to have captured the mood of the times rather well.
What I wonder is what will happen to Patrick Stewart now. It is, after all, a known fact that he is the one who made bald, scrawny, and middle-aged macho and sexy thanks to his role as Jean-Luc Picard OTL. Perhaps the best thing to ever come out of ST:TNG IMHO.
An interesting delve into how the new direction for NASA is reshaping popular culture. Am wondering how further developments will reshape it further.
What I wonder is what will happen to Patrick Stewart now. It is, after all, a known fact that he is the one who made bald, scrawny, and middle-aged macho and sexy thanks to his role as Jean-Luc Picard OTL. Perhaps the best thing to ever come out of ST:TNG IMHO.
An interesting delve into how the new direction for NASA is reshaping popular culture. Am wondering how further developments will reshape it further.
Thank you for the compliment. You're right about the lack of TNG, for a few very important reasons:
The characters of TNG are, essentially, those of Phase II/The New Voyages warmed over. Riker is an analogue of Decker (with some elements of Kirk added to compensate for the very different Captain); Troi is basically Ilia with (slightly) more developed abilities and a more degrading wardrobe; their relationship (exes who still carry a bit of a flame for each other) is also blatantly lifted from Decker and Ilia; Data is Xon re-imagined as an android instead of a Vulcan, with the same fascination for human behaviour.
Chekov being moved to Security is anticipatory of Yar, and later Worf, serving in that position. The lack of a Chief Engineer early on is reflective of Roddenberry's original vision for Star Trek (and the whole "This is what I really wanted all along!" attitude is very prominent in early TNG), before James Doohan convinced him to change his mind. The Ship's Doctor was a woman largely in order to recreate the will-they-or-won't-they vibe between the Captain and his Yeoman from the early phases of the original series, which Roddenberry really seemed to like. And, of course, Picard represents Gene's vision of the "post-modern Human", someone who, rather than triumphing over their baser impulses as Kirk does, seems to have genuinely expunged those impulses from his psyche. (Picard also resembles the original Captain, Pike, right down to the similar name).
ITTL, the notion of Star Trek without Captain Kirk (and Bones, and Scotty, and the rest) is unimaginable. IOTL, that albatross hung over TNG for the first few years, but the timing of the first really bad movie (The Final Frontier) coupled with the show finally hitting its stride (the entire third season, culminating in "The Best of Both Worlds"), rather abruptly reversed the momentum, turning the end of The Undiscovered Country into an explicit "passing of the torch" moment. That won't happen here; they'll just fly off into the sunset, with the promise that their adventures will continue, but we just won't be following them anymore.
Also, by 1984, Roddenberry is getting on in years, and (unlike IOTL) has already been revealed as a terrible showrunner (IOTL, at this point, he was only bad at making movies - people figured that he could make magic again in his home medium of television). Nobody is going to give him another shot at producing Star Trek within his lifetime. The show is done, movie development plans went nowhere... As it happens, I think the likeliest shot for new Star Trek after this is... a reboot.
Like so many other actors, he just needs to find his shot at stardom.Bahamut-255 said:
Me too!Bahamut-255 said:
As many of us are aware, such an intimate involvement by the Star Trek crew with NASA at the time is not at all far-fetched since, in fact, it happened with the rollout of the Space Shuttle Enterprise in 1976:
More intriguing is the idea that one butterfly of this new path for NASA would have been the approval of Star Trek: Phase II - or some return of the TV series. The show actually got close to such approval in OTL, cancelled after being well into pre-production when the new Paramount network collapsed, so I can hardly think this isn't a reasonable deduction from the excitement of NASA's big bicentennial push.
Of course, we would have lost Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan - a high price to pay, even if it meant we were also spared Star Trek V: The Final Frontier.
Being without a manned space launch vehicle today, we forget that we've been down this road before. For six long years (1975-1981), no American went into space, and NASA faded into the background for the time being. It had very successful robotic probes during this time frame (Vikings, Voyagers, Pioneer Venus, Helios), but those just don't capture the imagination in the way that men in space do. The attraction of this time life is, in part, a very different reality where NASA kept operationally active in that time frame, acquiring hard-won knowledge of extended human presence in space that it would not obtain in our time line for another two decades.
* * *
One other thing this brings to mind is the fact that between Pioneer Venus (1978) and Magellan and Galileo (1989), no unmanned probes were launched by NASA - although already-launched probes were still active on their missions (Voyagers, etc.). In part this was because Magellan and Galileo were delayed by the Challenger disaster, but it's also because the Shuttle's development and operation crowded out a lot of other NASA initatives. Both Voyagers and Vikings were themselves smaller scale, lower cost resurrections of more ambitious proposed missions as NASA began to feel the budget heat in the early 70's.
So I'm curious to hear if the Eyes Turned Skywards authors have any plans to keep up the unmanned probe tempo that we lost in OTL in the late 70's and the early 80's.
More intriguing is the idea that one butterfly of this new path for NASA would have been the approval of Star Trek: Phase II - or some return of the TV series. The show actually got close to such approval in OTL, cancelled after being well into pre-production when the new Paramount network collapsed, so I can hardly think this isn't a reasonable deduction from the excitement of NASA's big bicentennial push.
Of course, we would have lost Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan - a high price to pay, even if it meant we were also spared Star Trek V: The Final Frontier.
Being without a manned space launch vehicle today, we forget that we've been down this road before. For six long years (1975-1981), no American went into space, and NASA faded into the background for the time being. It had very successful robotic probes during this time frame (Vikings, Voyagers, Pioneer Venus, Helios), but those just don't capture the imagination in the way that men in space do. The attraction of this time life is, in part, a very different reality where NASA kept operationally active in that time frame, acquiring hard-won knowledge of extended human presence in space that it would not obtain in our time line for another two decades.
* * *
One other thing this brings to mind is the fact that between Pioneer Venus (1978) and Magellan and Galileo (1989), no unmanned probes were launched by NASA - although already-launched probes were still active on their missions (Voyagers, etc.). In part this was because Magellan and Galileo were delayed by the Challenger disaster, but it's also because the Shuttle's development and operation crowded out a lot of other NASA initatives. Both Voyagers and Vikings were themselves smaller scale, lower cost resurrections of more ambitious proposed missions as NASA began to feel the budget heat in the early 70's.
So I'm curious to hear if the Eyes Turned Skywards authors have any plans to keep up the unmanned probe tempo that we lost in OTL in the late 70's and the early 80's.
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They might. NASA may have more funds available to support them. Though I'm curious as to Voyagers 1 & 2. IOTL, Voyager 2 was deviated from it's original course, IIRC, in order to get another look at Saturn's largest moon, Titan. The new course prevented it from being able to perform a flyby of Pluto - which was still considered a planet at the time - forcing us to wait until New Horizons for that opportunity. What happens ITTL I look forward to with great interest.
Hello Bahamut,
It was actually Voyager I that made the sweep by Titan. In order to do so, its course was not correctable to allow it to continue on to fly by Uranus or Neptune. Instead, it flew on out of the Solar System by leaving the plane of the ecliptic. Carl Sagan and other astronomers had lobbied hard for the Titan flyby, which they hoped would reveal what lay beneath that fascinating atmosphere. Unfortunately, the cloud cover proved to be impenetrable, and that part of Voyager I's mission was a bust.
Indeed, had the Titan flyby gotten surface images, there were plans to consider diverting Voyager 2 to Titan as well. The difficulty was that doing so would destroy any chance of a Uranus and Neptune flyby, so the opportunity cost was high. Once Voyager I's cameras returned images of a solid haze, that was that, no matter how much Sagan pleaded.
The Voyagers were originally funded only for Jupiter and Saturn, despite the Grand Tour possibility of Uranus and Neptune. That was all Congress would approve. As it happened, NASA was able to get extensions of funding to continue the tour with Voyager 2.
Voyager I was the only one of the probes which had any plausible chance of a trajectory that would take it to Pluto. Pluto was, in short, sacrificed for Titan - not unreasonably, in my view.
My guess is that this time line would not affect the Voyager program, since it was approved so early in this time period. But I do think that Galileo, Magellan, and Hubble could have happened some years sooner, albeit perhaps in modified forms given the launch vehicle requirements. The same is likely true for other Mars missions that were never approved - it is hard to think we would have waited until 1992 to try to return to Mars, as we did in OTL.
It was actually Voyager I that made the sweep by Titan. In order to do so, its course was not correctable to allow it to continue on to fly by Uranus or Neptune. Instead, it flew on out of the Solar System by leaving the plane of the ecliptic. Carl Sagan and other astronomers had lobbied hard for the Titan flyby, which they hoped would reveal what lay beneath that fascinating atmosphere. Unfortunately, the cloud cover proved to be impenetrable, and that part of Voyager I's mission was a bust.
Indeed, had the Titan flyby gotten surface images, there were plans to consider diverting Voyager 2 to Titan as well. The difficulty was that doing so would destroy any chance of a Uranus and Neptune flyby, so the opportunity cost was high. Once Voyager I's cameras returned images of a solid haze, that was that, no matter how much Sagan pleaded.
The Voyagers were originally funded only for Jupiter and Saturn, despite the Grand Tour possibility of Uranus and Neptune. That was all Congress would approve. As it happened, NASA was able to get extensions of funding to continue the tour with Voyager 2.
Voyager I was the only one of the probes which had any plausible chance of a trajectory that would take it to Pluto. Pluto was, in short, sacrificed for Titan - not unreasonably, in my view.
My guess is that this time line would not affect the Voyager program, since it was approved so early in this time period. But I do think that Galileo, Magellan, and Hubble could have happened some years sooner, albeit perhaps in modified forms given the launch vehicle requirements. The same is likely true for other Mars missions that were never approved - it is hard to think we would have waited until 1992 to try to return to Mars, as we did in OTL.
One possibility I'd live to see explored here is the proposed Mars Sample Return, projected for 1984, but never approved for funding - mainly because of Shuttle budget demands.