7 Ups & 1 Down From Star Trek: Strange New Worlds 3.5 — Through The Lens Of Time

Not unlike all those quantum uncertainties in the temple, introducing a new character to an established TV series can be fraught with uncertainty. Not so for Nurse Gamble, now named as such (on screen). This ensign is the wager that paid off immediately back in Wedding Bell Blues, and with dividends in Through the Lens of Time.

The episode begins on the "junior medical officer's log," six months in to his service aboard the Enterprise. Gamble's unfettered enthusiasm is infectious. His joyful and genuine interest in all things is the essence of Starfleet. "After today, I know my life is never going to be the same again," he notes. In hindsight, that is practically a premonition. If only we could reach through the screen to warn him!

Gamble is so delighted to be joining the away team, so fascinated by Doctor Korby's research, that his reaction is to hug Doctor M'Benga. 'Professionalism be damned' is somewhat the point. Gamble wears his heart, his gratitude, on his (jumpsuit) sleeve — a rather precious quality of youth that can all too often vanish amongst the rigours of rank, age, and so-called 'responsibility'.

Unbeknownst to both participants, the hug was also a goodbye. The ensign never truly returned from Vadia IX. The opening scene in sickbay was his final resting place. Here lies the 'good Gamble' — soon to be ancient, but never to be old.

An UP for the character is also an easy LATINUM UP for the actor this week. Given comparatively little screentime from Wedding Bell Blues onwards, Chris Meyers has put in an excellent performance as Nurse Gamble, both pre- and post-possession by non-corporeal alien entity, the Vezda. His smile has delighted and terrified us. His screams will haunt us forever.

As Gamble, Meyers exuded an effortless likeability. We were all lulled into a false sense of security. Equally effortless was his ability to switch to pure evil (and back again) in an instant. Another actor might have failed to convince with such rapid transitions of emotion.

Instead, Meyers adeptly managed to blur the line between Gamble and Vezda. This was grippingly, purposefully uncomfortable viewing, instilling just the right amount of doubt. Like Doctor M'Benga, we wondered (and hoped) until the very end, fond of the character as we were. After so much promise, we were left with a flickering screen in sickbay: "QUARANTINE SUBJECT: VEZDA LIFEFORM."

Season three of Star Trek: Strange New Worlds has already afforded far too much focus to romance. What began with a whiff of the adolescent has descended over five episodes into the downright 'high school' — 21st century idioms to match. Spock's love life has become more messy than a bad game of kal-toh.

In part, Through the Lens of Time played like the reverse of Captain's Holiday (without the short shorts). Vadia IX was an odd substitute for Risa. Was this an archaeological dig or a getaway for three of the Enterprise's most eligible couples? Sorry, "no labels," we know. "Just fun times." Let he who is without sin cast the first deflector beam.

"We're all adults here, right?" La'An inquired of Chapel before the away mission had begun. If you have to ask the question, the answer is unlikely to please you. Far from adolescent or high school, "don't be one of those women" was a line straight from the mouth of the office bully. We know La'An can be standoffish and forthright, but she's not cruel!

#totesawksintheturbolift between Chapel and Spock could have been left out entirely, but for the effective moment of comedy provided by an unwitting third wheel. Down on the planet, Beto and Uhura probably just needed to get on with their respective jobs. They, however, at least had youth as an excuse. Folly of also paid off down the line.

DOCTOR Korby might well be permanently channelling Doctor Jones from those 'ancient Earth movies'. Any other comparison for the adventurous archaeologist pre-Professor Galen would be less than, after all. No mine carts or rope bridges for Roger, but most definitely a temple and an existential threat.

Before doom, diplomacy. You have to be nice to your hosts if you want access to the local monuments. The whip, or the phaser, is only if all else fails. In any case, the inhabitants of Vadia IX, the M'Kroon — a new species to Star Trek — seemed peaceful, if relatively isolationist (at first). Their look, whilst not entirely novel, was well executed — think cyberpunk Bolian with a flair for fungal (?!) fashion.

As for the temple in Through the Lens of Time, there is a lot to be said (most of it not positive) about the use of the AR (Augmented Reality) Wall to depict parts of the interior spaces. On the whole, the technology failed to capture any sense of scale — problematic for a massively multidimensional, tesseract-like structure. The opposite is true for the temple exterior. Its reveal was appropriately awe-inspiring, mixing CGI and impressive practical set pieces.

Undeniably calqued on Trelane, and introduced as a quite literal 'god of the gaps' to bump up the runtime of Encounter at Farpoint, Q could hardly claim divine inspiration in the beginning. Few had high hopes for the character, in fact. Since, and in large part thanks to John de Lancie's captivating performance, the Q as a species have become one of the most interesting aspects of all of Star Trek — as frustratingly enigmatic as they are often, quite simply, irritating to all those they meet.

Season three of Star Trek: Strange New Worlds has begun to lift the veil on some of that mystery. In Wedding Bell Blues, we found out that Vadia IX was "the old homeworld" of the once corporeal Q (that is, if we take Trelane/the 'young' Q's word as gospel).

Vadia IX was, then, also the setting for this week's episode. Its revelations about the true origins of the Q were, to quote La'An, "fascinating". Chapel and Korby's research had led them to the conclusion that the M'Kroon were "the direct descendants of an advanced civilisation that could travel across multiple galaxies". According to Korby, the civilisation claimed to "have achieved immortality" by creating "quantum instability at a molecular level".

Does that mean, therefore, that the Q in corporeal form once resembled the M'Kroon? If said 'advanced civilisation' has direct descendants, we can only assume that not all of them made it to immortality. If not, why not? And what happened to those (Q) left behind to make them forget their ancestry over the aeons? So many questions, so little time to write a paper for Captain Janeway.

Umberto 'Beto' Ortegas might easily have been extremely annoying for crew (and viewer) this week. Instead, he was just doing his job at Starfleet's behest, however bothersome that could (perhaps should) be. Beto was there to record the Enterprise's "current roster of missions" in celebration of the Federation centennial. That meant flying his camera into a few faces and places, whether crew (and viewer) liked or loved it or not.

Asking the Captain if he could "do it again" was pushing things, nonetheless. Plus, does no one say 'please' in the 23rd (or 21st) century? A little later, forgiveness would follow not asking for permission in the first place when Beto flew his drone camera through a doorway in the temple.

That inquisitive spirit, required in any good documentary filmmaker, was the key to salvation for the away team. One must always follow the story, even into "different planes of existence". Little could be less obvious than "layered dimensional space". Without the (AI) "intuitive software" in Beto's recording device, escape might have proven impossible.

Through the Lens of Time is a profoundly scary episode. At times, the horror is visceral. At others, it is purely psychological. Like Hegemony, Part II and Shuttle to Kenfori before it, gore is in no short supply. All things considered, "heebie-jeebies" is right! It is tempting to look away, to hide behind the pillow, but 'see no evil' is largely redundant here. 'Speak no evil' won't help either!

In large part thanks to Chris Meyers' unsettling portrayal, the Vezda, freshly introduced, feel like the threat they are purported to be. They feel truly malign. It is surely no coincidence that Gamble is given his name in this episode. Only in that is he personified (more than a random redshirt) and then dehumanised — his innocence corrupted by evil (now) incarnate.

On Vadia IX, mythos becomes logos, the Word — not divine reason, in this case, but the embodiment of divine hatred. On the ship, rationality itself begins to break down in the eyeless face of the Vezda. It is Pelia, scientist and engineer, who names 'Gamble' at the start of the episode. It is Pelia who 'kills' him at the end.

Lanthanite with transcendent wisdom built by centuries, Pelia rejects Pike's attempt at reasoned relativism, returning instead to the absolutes of good and evil in the universe. We're back to the divine order of things. "God help us all."

No one in this or any other galaxy can bring people back down to Earth with such unintended humour as Pelia. She had raised tensions beyond exospheric in the first place towards the end of Through the Lens of Time. Her "you want one for the camera?" that followed wasn't deadpan, it was dead serious. If you didn't laugh, you really will have to "suit yourself".

'Acting it up for the camera' was a significantly better kind of meta than the sort we had to sit through in A Space Adventure Hour. It is all still farce, but Carol Kane has ample talent not to make the ridiculous look ridiculous through any lens. Much to our good fortune, they'd run out of creative reasons for her absence this week. Because of course Pelia loves (the attention of) the camera. She was around when it was invented. God help Beto when he gets to engineering!

Comedy aside, it's perhaps about time they pointed the lens more closely at the Enterprise's resident Lanthanite (spoiler alert: especially before Star Trek: Starfleet Academy with its half-Lanthanite, Captain Nahla Ake). Forget the documentary for the Federation centennial! Make one on Pelia, instead. That is, unless she already has.

There is a clever, if eerie, prescience, at the heart of Through the Lens of Time. Doctor Korby's work on "molecular memory and corporeal transference" — the archaeology of resurrection and reincarnation — we know, can only end one way. Even more to the point, this week's episode is set in 2261. That is the same year Korby goes missing, dies, and is reborn in android form on Exo III, only to be found five years later by Captain Kirk and crew of the Enterprise.

"Doctor Korby was never here," concluded Kirk towards the end of What Are Little Girls Made Of? He was right. The flesh-and-blood Korby hadn't survived long in the glacial temperatures of Exo III. As an android, his consciousness transferred by way of ancient technology on the planet, Korby was far from his former self. More had changed than just the accent. He'd lost what it meant to be human. In the end, he destroyed himself.

In amongst all the exemplary Qness (implied) of Through the Lens of Time, aided no doubt by the quarry and the object suspiciously resembling a DHD, this writer couldn't help but be reminded of the Ancients of the Stargate franchise. Like the Q, it seems, the Ancients were once a highly advanced, galaxy-hopping species who eventually learnt to shed their corporeal form, to 'ascend' to a higher plane of existence. Let's just hope the Vezda don't take after the Ori!