This week I am really taking full advantage of The Hoot’s promise to print whatever its staff writers want to write. Does the target audience exist for this piece? The hell if I know. Will anybody read it? Don’t care. I wanted to write it, and so now it exists. Or well, will exist. Obviously I’m still in the process of putting my finger to the keyboard given that this is just the first paragraph, but since you’re now reading it in print I must assume that I will eventually succeed in completing it.
First of all, the non-Trekkies in the house (which I imagine is most of you) are probably asking yourselves what I’m even talking about. My chosen headline for this article is probably not helping matters in the slightest, because even if you have a passing interest in the gift to humankind that is the “Star Trek” franchise, you likely haven’t seen “Star Trek IV: The Voyage Home.” And even if you have seen “Star Trek IV: The Voyage Home,” I doubt that the question I am now posing is the kind that would have ever even come close to keeping you up at night.
But I’m getting ahead of myself. I should try and give some context so that the maybe five people who have decided to read this article can get up to speed. Now, “Star Trek” being one of the longest running science fiction franchises in history, it’s hard to compartmentalize all of it in one to two paragraphs. However, I will do my best to sum up “The Original Series” (the first “Star Trek” TV show) in so many words. The show follows the adventures of Captain James T. Kirk, First Officer Spock, Ship’s Surgeon Dr. Leonard McCoy and the rest of their motley crew onboard the Starship Enterprise, a spaceship that every week for one hour of television boldly seeks out new planets, new civilizations and new actors forced to sit in the makeup chair for over four hours to apply prosthesis.
“The Original Series” (“TOS” if you’re in a hurry) was the most groundbreaking show of its era, showing male and female crewmembers treated as equals and people from all over the world living their lives free of discrimination, fear and the old prejudices which had wreaked such havoc on Earth in the past. For a show airing at the height of the Civil Rights Movement, the Cold War and Second-Wave Feminism, all of this was practically revolutionary, and they nearly got pulled from the air for daring to push the boundaries of “acceptable television” to such a great extent.
When “TOS” was cancelled after its initial three-season run, however, the IP kind of sat around for a while. This was long before TV was seen as a medium anywhere comparable in quality or value to film, and so there was no reason to think that anything more would become of “Star Trek” after this point. But the fandom (as nerds tend to be) was extremely persistent, and the show did so well in syndication that Paramount thought there could be some real potential in bringing the original cast to the big screen. After spending a considerable amount of time in development hell, “Star Trek: The Motion Picture” was released in 1979. Personally, I hate “TMP,” but the film performed quite strongly, leading to a second film (personally I don’t think that the term “sequel” applies since the events of “TMP” are never once mentioned), “The Wrath of Khan.” “Wrath of Khan” kicked off a trilogy of sorts, leading directly into a third film, “The Search For Spock,” which in turn sets up the fourth film in the series: “The Voyage Home.” And as a reminder in case you’ve forgotten, “The Voyage Home” is the titular “Star Trek IV” that I want to talk about today.
Although very much a sequel to “The Search For Spock,” “TVH” introduces a lot of new elements to the story. It’s a time travel caper, with the crew going back to the (then contemporary) 1980s, leading to many shenanigans and silly fun times. The movie adds a dose of much-appreciated levity and camaraderie to the often stark Kirk, Spock and McCoy triumvirate that usually defines “Star Trek” outings.
But as in all time travel movies, there needs to be a reason for them to break dimensional barriers and high tail it back to the “dark ages,” and that reason arrives via the first shot of the movie in terms of a message—the very same message that I allude to in the title of this article.
Out of the depths of space appears a mysterious and massive cylindrical probe broadcasting an eerie-sounding code for an unknown audience. As the probe makes its way further and further into Federation (meaning plot-relevant) space, starships prove unable to cope with the size and scale of its communication capabilities, leading to the short circuiting and de-powering of ships, leaving entire crews floating helplessly in space.
Reaching Earth, the probe finally stops moving, as if signaling that this is its intended destination. As it sits above the atmosphere, it sets off insane weather phenomena on the planet’s surface. Strong winds obliterate cities, a tsunami floods Starfleet headquarters in San Francisco, dogs and cats start living together … the whole thing spells world-ending cataclysmic chaos on an order heretofore undreamt of, even in the science fiction world of “Star Trek.” Thankfully, the “Enterprise” crew is not on Earth when all of this goes down, and is instead on Vulcan due to the events of the previous film (don’t worry about it). They are able to intercept a transmission from Starfleet warning of the probe, and learn of its mercurial, havoc-causing message.
Spock starts hypothesizing what the purpose of the message could possibly be, and why nothing Starfleet does is able to answer it in the way that the senders intended. Since the probe’s destination is seemingly Earth, clearly they want to hear from someone down below. But who? No documented human language, when sent to the probe, causes any change in its behavior. Then Spock gets an idea: what if the probe isn’t trying to reach the human species, but instead an animal occupant? The warbled message, when run through a program that reveals what it would sound like underwater, transforms into something unexpected—whale song; the probe is hoping to reach humpback whales, perhaps hinting at some kind of interspecies intergalactic friendship dating back millenium.
Only a response in kind will trigger the probe to leave Earth and return to sender, its purpose fulfilled. However, the death knell still tolls, since humpback whales went extinct in the 22nd century, over 100 years before the film’s time. This is what kickstarts the time travel plot, as the only way to save the Earth is to go back, find some humpback whales and voyage home (“Hey! That’s the name of the movie!”) to the 2280s so that the cetaceans can respond to the probe’s message.
Now, “The Voyage Home” (which is also often lovingly referred to as “the one with the whales” by the fandom) is an excellent film, potentially my favorite in the entire “Star Trek” canon. So you can imagine the kind of self-restraint I’m currently forcing upon myself in order to not turn this into an article that’s just about the movie in general. Because that’s not my intention with this piece at all.
Instead, what I want to focus on is the probe itself, its enduring mystery and the reason why we’ve never so much as gotten a hint as to who sent it or precisely why. Yep, you heard me right, even after all of that destruction and insanity, we never learn who sent the probe. At the end of the movie (SPOILER ALERT!!!) it just up and leaves once the response is received, without even so much as a look back. We never learn if there were life forms aboard it, if it even knew what it was looking for or where it went after saying goodbye to the Milky Way. It’s never even been mentioned again (as far as I know) since “Star Trek IV.” It just existed for that two hour blip and never again. Humpback whales, though, have continued to be shown thriving in the 23rd century, most recently as recurring characters on the “USS Cerritos” in the animated series “Star Trek: Lower Decks.” So the probe’s effects certainly haven’t been ignored in “Star Trek” lore, just the probe itself.
This is all the more interesting when you consider the enduring mysteries that the franchise has chosen to answer. We know why the Klingons in “TOS” didn’t have forehead ridges, we know how Kirk and Spock met (in two different realities, even), we know what happened to the Noonien Singhs, we know what race Guinan is, we know Uhura’s first name, we know what the effects of “Yesterday’s Enterprise” were, we know what Betazoid menopause looks like, we know the exact result of each and every possible malfunction of a warp core, transporter beam or holodeck, we know how the Discovery ended up stranded in space, we’re FINALLY going to find out what happened to Captain Sisko (at least judging by recent trailers for “Starfleet Academy”), and “Trek” even posits its own explanation for what will eventually happen to the Voyager shuttle.
There is literally no other unanswered question that looms so large in the “Star Trek” universe as this one does, or even any unanswered question that continues to be so unanswered nor so ignored by the franchise as this one has been. There isn’t even an explanation given in any of the non-canon “Star Trek” novels, and there’s always an answer in the novels. It’s just absolute crickets. So let me respond to this unanswered question with a question of my own: why?
What is it about this specific mystery that has made every “Star Trek” writer since “The Voyage Home” go “nah, I’m not touching that”? Why, when so many lesser mysteries have been dealt with, do the greedy hands at Paramount not think to circle back around to one of the most beloved films that the franchise has ever produced?
Well, I know what I hope the answer is, and it’s just as saccharinely sweet and naive as “Star Trek” can often be, wrapped in the pretty bow of justice and curiosity that purveys so much of the franchise’s vision.
The mystery of the probe is, in my opinion, tied extremely closely to “Star Trek’s” enduring mission and legacy. As is said in the opening of every USS Enterprise-centric “Star Trek” series, the crew is tasked to “seek out new life and new civilizations, to boldly go where no one has gone before.” Tantamount to that statement is the idea that there will always be new life and new civilizations to explore boldly, that there is always more to discover, that there is always a frontier (whether literal or metaphorical) to push past.
Even with the sheer amount of content that “Star Trek” boasts (more than 600 hours of it, in fact), there should always be things kept just outside of the edge of the viewscreen. Otherwise, if there are no mysteries left, then what’s even the point? The unknown is quintessentially “Star Trek,” and whatever backstory for the probe that could be cooked up will inevitably fall short of lofty expectations (especially when those expectations have been building for over 30 years at this point).
We haven’t as a society yet reached the peak of humanity. I don’t mean that in terms of progress or innovation, but rather in an inward sense. We aren’t the most kind or the most nurturing or the most understanding. We hold prejudices, we speak out of turn, we can be prone to violence and irrationality and the list goes on and on. Whether we’ll ever get over that mountain, I’m not the one to say, but “Star Trek” certainly thinks that we will. Even in “Star Trek,” though, humans aren’t perfect. In fact, one of the things that “Star Trek” most consistently celebrates about humanity is our imperfections. Because what makes humans special in the “Star Trek” universe is their awareness of themselves, their acknowledgement of their faults and their willingness to grow and change; to always strive for better, to be better.
The probe, then, would represent all that we have left to accomplish as a species, the things we don’t (and may never) know, the social barriers we have yet to overcome, the empathy we have yet to impart on our fellows. There is no way to know who will send those things to us, since we are the ones who have yet to discover them. It’s cyclical, but in a way that feeds our desire to innovate and inspire both in ourselves and in the world around us.
Conversely, I think that there’s also something to be said for giving us humans a reminder that we aren’t the most important species on this planet; in fact, far from it. Whatever alien race, deity or ultimate computer sent the probe clearly didn’t think so, and neither should we. We should stay humble, especially as we continue to assert ourselves more and more as the most dominant species on Earth, potentially through irreparable means. For all we know, there really is someone out there in the far reaches of the cosmos starting to miss their humpback whale friends. And I sure don’t want to be the person stuck figuring out time travel to go back in time to find some.
