Space Seed: Into Darkness
"Space Seed" was one of my all time favorite episodes of the original series. But there were a few important elements of it that didn't make it to "Into Darkness" I felt it could have used—namely Lt. Marla McGivers. So here is my humble attempt to ret-con her into the 2013 film. A prequel of sorts. If you enjoy and think I should keep going, do leave some feedback:)
The communicator on Lieutenant Marla McGivers desk buzzed insistently.
With a sigh she pushed aside the stack of papers she was grading and picked it up.
"Lt. McGivers here."
"McGivers, Captain Rivers here, adjutant to Admiral Marcus."
Marla frowned. "Uh, good afternoon, Captain. How can I help you?"
She was genuinely puzzled. Since she had come to teach at Starfleet Academy five years before she had had almost no interaction with the brass that actually ran the place. And she hadn't really expected any. After all, she taught history—and not just history, but Earth history, the dullest, most unglamorous subject a space jockey could imagine.
In all her classes she worked hard to convince cadets that Earth history was worth knowing, that a solid understanding of humanity's past as a species would only help them as they traveled out into the universe. She always held up the Vulcans as an example. She'd yet to meet one who did not have an encyclopedic knowledge of Vulcan history.
But it seldom worked. Usually a cadet only took the one or two history courses required of them before moving on to more fun courses like Klingon linguistics and warp engine repair.
"The Admiral would like to know if you'd be available to meet with him at 1600 hours today."
She glanced at her tablet computer, and then at the pile of essays on First Contact she had yet to read. "Two hours from now? Umm…"
"It is on a matter most urgent, Lieutenant, I assure you," said the cool, crisp voice on the other end of the communicator. The use of her rank, she knew, was not accidental. Most of her students just called her 'Dr. McGivers.' But the Captain was reminding her just how low on the Starfleet totem pole she ranked.
She carefully modulated her tone. "Of course I shall be there. I would not want to disappoint the Admiral."
"Excellent. Tower 15, 4th floor conference room. Rivers out."
"Goodbye," she said. But the speaker had already clicked off. She was talking to dead air.
She sighed and rubbed her eyes. So much for getting through her grading today.
Standing, she grabbed her communicator and her satchel and walked down the hall to see her department chair. Outside the enormous glass windows a light rain was falling on San Francisco, but the sun was already peeking through the clouds. The moisture made the towers and walkways of the Academy glisten.
Captain Laurence Tibbideaux was in his office. He waved to her through the glass. The door slid open as she arrived.
"Hello, my dear! I hear you are going to see the big boys this afternoon." In his heavy French accent it sounded like 'ze beeg boys.' Marla carefully stifled a laugh.
"Word travels fast. Do you know what's going on?"
The older man gestured for her to sit down. "I do not, I'm afraid. But there is nothing to be frightened of."
Marla shook her head, which knocked loose a piece of her red hair from her bun. She had to tuck it behind an ear.
"I'm not afraid of Admirals. I'm just puzzled and hoped you knew something."
"Oh, the military does not speak to us lowly academics. As you know our ranks are purely bureaucratic. I am a captain but I could no more pilot a starship than I could dance on the surface of Venus." He gave a Gallic shrug. "But since you are here, may I ask how goes the new book?"
"Slowly. Very slowly. It seems like I have been crunching data for years. But I think I'll have some very interesting things to say when I finally publish."
Tibbideaux's academic specialties were the histories Vulcan and Romulus, two planets with cultures very much alive and with readily accessible sources. Of course humans were not welcome on Romulus. But Tibbideaux had spent years on old Vulcan and now new Vulcan working in their archives. He had more than a dozen well-received books to show for it. Even Vulcan historians acknowledged Tibbideaux's prowess as a scholar-the highest possible praise, indeed.
As she did at least once a day Marla rued her decision to specialize in a rather obscure field of pre-United Federation Earth history. The Eugenics Wars of the 1990s had been a brief and turbulent time, and few sources had survived the dark ages that had followed. She spent her life tracking down tiny pieces of information and trying to put them together into some kind of coherent narrative. Granted, she was regarded as an expert in her field, too. But it was field no one else cared about.
Captain Tibbideaux poured her a cup of tea and passed it to her. "Patience, Lieutenant. What I've heard of your new work sounds well worth pursuing. You must stick with it." He sat down opposite her and regarded her steadily while she sipped her tea. "May I give you some advice on dealing with the brass?"
"I was rather hoping you would."
He nodded. "Well, first of all, never forget they are military men and women, first and foremost. Answer their questions directly and honestly and in few words as possible."
Marla raised an eyebrow at this. Her department chair chuckled.
"Yes, I know, we historians tend to be long winded, full of 'maybes' and 'perhaps' and 'it may be.' They hate that." He thought for a moment. "You should know this, though-your mamma and papa were Starfleet, were they not?"
"Yes, but I was so young when they died that I barely remember them or how they behaved. And Grandpa was even more of an academic than you are, Captain."
He chuckled. "Ah, yes, Professor Finbar McGivers, terror of the University of London for nearly half a century."
Marla smiled, even though her heart ached a bit. Her much-loved grandfather was gone now, too. She still missed him bitterly.
"So, when you go before the Admiral, speak to him truthfully. He must need your expertise on something, else why summon you at all?"
"I doubt that. What could I possibly have to teach him?" Marla finished her tea and set down the cup. "What do you know about Admiral Marcus?"
"Alexander Marcus is one of the longest-serving and most respected men in Starfleet," the old man said. "Also one of the most powerful." He regarded his junior faculty member seriously. "You want this man on your side, Marla."
She nodded and stood. "I understand. Thank you, Laurence."
"Not at all, my dear. Good luck. And Marla?"
She paused. "Yes?"
"Do fix your hair before you go and see him. Marcus is a stickler for protocol."
Marla heeded her colleague's advice and was neat as a pin when she walked into the conference room on the other side of campus.
She was always rather unhappy about her red Starfleet uniform, feeling it was too close to the color of her hair. But the tunic-length garment was spotless, as were the matching trousers underneath. Her hair was coiled atop her head to within an inch of its life. She looked every inch the serious academic.
A thin man with mocha-colored skin stood as she entered. "Lt. McGivers, good of you to come on such short notice. As you can imagine the Admiral's schedule is quite full."
"Captain Rivers?" She asked.
The man nodded, and they shook hands.
"Not at all," she told him. "I am happy to assist in any way I can."
No sooner had she said this than the doors slid open behind them and four men trooped in. Two were enlisted men, between them toting a large hard plastic carrying case almost as big as Marla herself. They placed it gingerly on the conference table and left the room. She couldn't help but notice that they then stationed themselves outside the door, so no one else could enter.
The third man busied himself setting up a projector and a relay—for some sort of conference call, Marla surmised.
The fourth man approached and stood in front of her. His pale blue eyes scanned her up and down. "She's younger than I thought she'd be," he observed aloud to no one in particular.
If they had been in a crowd of thousands Marla still would have been able to pick this man out as Admiral Marcus. And it wasn't just the uniform. It was in his bearing, the way he held his body. The sharp planes of his face may have softened a bit with age, and he was a bit thick around the middle. But he still had the coiled energy and steely-eyed gaze Marla always associated with Starfleet officers.
Captain River introduced them formally.
"Do you go by 'Dr. McGivers' or 'Lt. McGivers'?" The Admiral asked.
"Either one is fine, Admiral."
"OK, Lt, McGivers, have a seat." The Admiral pointed at a chair opposite him. The other three men sat down as well. "Captain Rivers you've met. This is my personal assistant, Commander Rhodes."
The man who'd been fiddling with the relay nodded at her. "The link should be available now, Admiral," he told his commander.
"Good. Bring him up."
Rhodes pushed a few buttons on the relay, and an image appeared in the air. It was perhaps four feet high and three feet across. The link wasn't perfect, as there was a bit of static around the edges. Marla wondered if they were connecting to someone too close to a sun or other interplanetary activity that might be interfering with the transmission.
But the picture was clear enough that she could see a fifth man looking back at them. He appeared to be a control room of some sort. He had a lean face, with dark hair swept back from a high forehead and piercing blue eyes.
"Starfleet Agent John Harrison, meet Lt. Marla McGivers. McGivers, Agent Harrison. He's consulting on this project," the Admiral said absently, looking down at the tablet his adjutant had just set before him.
"Good afternoon, Lt. McGivers," the agent greeted her. Marla identified the round tones of his accent to be upper-class British in origin. Yet there was something about him that didn't seem to match that social class. After a moment she realized it was because even from a great distance he was radiating the same kind of personal energy the Admiral did. Here, too, was a man who was used to commanding and to being obeyed without question.
Marla reminded herself that Starfleet agents were often recruited from the officer ranks. She tried to shrug off her uneasiness.
"Hello," she said simply.
With introductions out of the way the Admiral nodded at Rhodes. The other man pushed the packing case across the table in her direction.
"I would very much like your academic opinion on what is in this case," the Admiral told her.
Curiouser and curiouser. Marla stood so she could better lean forward and unlatch the case. She eased the lid back and gasped aloud at what was inside.
"Where did you…oh, hang on, hang on…" Marla grabbed her bag and pulled out the cloth gloves she always carried around with her as a precaution. Once they were on she gently reached into the case and lifted the artifact from its plush confinement.
"Oh, it's beautiful," she breathed. "Wow."
"Do you recognize it, Lieutenant?" The voice came over the speaker again, and Marla jumped. She'd been so excited she'd forgotten where she was for a moment.
She glanced around her. Everyone—Admiral Marcus, Commander Rhodes, Captain Rivers, and Agent Harrison—were looking at her expectantly.
She cleared her throat. "Of course I do. It's a class M pulse rifle, manufactured by the Tatami Corporation. They were in business from 1985 to 1999." She studied the plastic casing, the barrel, and the trigger guard. "Pulse rifles were beautiful weapons—light, easy to operate, almost indestructible. That's why they were so popular during the wars."
"Efficient, would you say?" The Admiral asked.
"Oh yes. Designed specifically for maximum kill rate with a minimum of effort. Only a few survived the dark ages. There are two here in Starfleet's archive, and the British Museum and the Smithsonian each has one. I've never seen one in this kind of condition, though. It looks…well, I mean, it looks almost…"
"New?" The Admiral supplied.
Marla blinked at him. "Well, yes. But that's not possible."
"Actually it is, Lieutenant." He nodded at his adjutant. Captain Rivers leaned forward.
"Fourteen months ago a derelict ship was discovered by a Starfleet research vessel. Designation S.S. Botany Bay. This gun is from its airtight hold." He pushed a tablet at her, and Marla saw the image of a late 20th century vessel, badly battered from its time in space.
"Does the name mean anything to you?" The voice came from the projection again. Marla glanced back at Agent Harrison, puzzled that he'd been the one asking most of the questions so far.
"No. I mean, 'Botany Bay' is of course a reference to the penal colony established on the shores of what became Australia in the 18th Century. But this ship? I have not heard of it. But that doesn't mean much. The records for this period are fragmentary." Marla's head was spinning. "I'll have to do some research…"
"The weapon, Lieutenant," the Admiral reminded her, jolting her back to the here and now.
Marla remembered her department chair's advice. She took a breath. "An airtight environment would explain this artifact's rather remarkable state of preservation. And if you're asking me whether this weapon is the right period to be found in that ship then I'd say it's dead on."
"And what other weapons would you expect the find in a ship of this era?" Marcus asked.
"Well, starships from the late 20th Century were pretty basic. Not really designed for combat because they didn't have much maneuverability yet. And since they had no warp engines they couldn't travel very far anyway. At most they'd have a few laser cannons, if that. Any other weapons they wanted they would have had to bring on board: pulse rifles, flash grenades, fragment bombs, really nasty anti-personnel stuff…"
Marla trailed off as the implications of what she was saying hit her. "Hang on, are you saying you have more of these?" She once again held up the weapon in her hands. "That you've got a cache of late 20th century weapons in mint condition?"
The men in the room all exchanged glances. Marla once again had the uneasy sensation she'd waded into very deep waters here.
The scholar in her plunged ahead. "Admiral, forgive me, but if we could be taking about one of the most important historical finds in recent memory here! Where is the ship now?"
"The ship is in a secure location, Lieutenant," Captain Rivers told her flatly. "Starfleet is taking every precaution with it, I assure you."
"I'm sure they are, Captain, and I meant no disrespect to the Admiral, of course." McGivers frowned, frantically trying to think of some way to get through to these men. Was it possible they really did not understand the importance of such a find? All the questions it might help answer? She thought of the half-finished book on her own tablet computer. Oh, what these new findings might add to her story!
"Your concerns are duly noted, Dr. McGivers," the Admiral said. "Which is why I suggest you come and see what we've found for yourself."
Marla's jaw dropped open. "I'm sorry?"
"We could use someone with your expertise on this." Marcus glanced over at the screen, where Agent Harrison was staring steadily back at him. "Don't you think so, Harrison?"
The agent was silent for a long moment. Marla became convinced he was about to say 'no.' Then what would she do? The thought of going back to grading papers when this remarkable find was out there was unbearable.
But Harrison finally smiled. It was a cold smile, but a smile nonetheless. Marla's heart skipped a beat as he spoke.
"By all mean, Admiral. Bring her along. The more the merrier."