I’m not the first one to make the connection. Scholars and authors have noted the similarities often. In their introduction to Star Trek: The New Voyages, entitled "The Once and Future Voyages," editors Sondra Marshak and Myrna Culbreath write: "King Arthur will rise - the once and future king. Camelot will live again, and does at least in the minds of men. Star Trek was just such a living legend... our new Camelot, even more shining." Lynette Muir, in her article "Star Trek: The New Arthuriad?," explains that "For the medieval audience, Arthur's world was a golden age to look back on. For the modern audience, Star Trek is a golden age to look forward to."
But the relationship between the Arthurian tradition and the Star Trek franchise is more than a simple issue of comparable utopian tales with significant staying power. Arthurian lore broadly defined encompasses a wealth of historical, literary, poetic, theatrical, and artistic representations of Arthur from what may be his first mention (by name in the Scottish Gododdin, circa 600, and even earlier by deed) to the 2004 blockbuster film King Arthur. In that fourteen-hundred-year-plus lifespan, Arthuriana has evolved in multiple directions with discrete submyths such as the Knights of the Round Table, the Exodus of Joseph of Arimathea, and the Quest for the Holy Grail. The five incarnations of Star Trek, beginning with the classic series of the 1960s and following with the 1980s' The Next Generation, the 1990s' Deep Space Nine and Voyager, and the most recent Enterprise actually illumine different aspects of the Arthurian cycle. Star Trek reminds us of the ethics and aesthetics of Arthuriana because it builds on the structural and stylistic skeleton of Arthurian lore and reinterprets it for a new and modern audience. In the process, Star Trek proves not only its own value, but also the impressive elasticity and continued relevance of the Arthurian tradition.
The Original Series
Creator Gene Roddenberry unveiled his new series Star Trek on September 8, 1966, and audiences met Captain James T. Kirk, his First Officer Mr. Spock, and Doctor Leonard "Bones" McCoy for the first time. (Although not the first episode filmed, "The Man Trap" was the first aired. Unlike either Star Trek pilot, "The Man Trap" contained the now-familiar starring cast intact with William Shatner, Leonard Nimoy, and DeForest Kelley in their roles as Kirk, Spock, and McCoy, respectively.) In the casting of the show, the writing of the episodes, and the chemistry among the actors, the phenomenon author Rowena Warner termed "The Triumvirate" unfolded. The heroic male triad that matured through the original three-season run, an animated series, professional novels, and seven feature films reflects an earlier soldiers' tri-partnership, namely the core Arthurian relationship of Arthur, Lancelot, and Gawain.
The Arthurian triumvirate is borne as much of affection as of military hierarchy. Arthur is King, Lancelot the champion he knighted, and Gawain his nephew, spy, and warrior. In Sir Thomas Malory's Le Morte D'Arthur, Arthur freely admits his love of his two dearest comrades: "Alas, Sir Gawain, ... in Sir Lancelot and you I most had my joy." To Arthur and his kingdom, Lancelot is the "flower of all noble knights," the king's right hand. Gawain ranks no less in Arthur's heart, however. In The Alliterative Morte Arthur, Arthur even tells Gawain: "You were worthy to be king/ though I wore the crown."
The bond between Gawain and Lancelot is as strong the men's connection to their king. In Malory, Lancelot acknowledges his loyalty to Gawain and "all the love that ever was betwixt us." Gawain eventually accepts death at Lancelot's hand and blesses it with the admission that "of a more noble knight might I not be slain." The depth of friendship, even passion, that typifies this triad pervades Arthuriana from The Mabinogion and Geoffrey of Monmouth onward, especially the influential 14th and 15th-century texts.*
This same triumvirate core resurfaces in the classic Star Trek series. Kirk, as leader, fills the role of Arthur. In fact, Diane Duane seems to nod to this issue in her professional Star Trek novel The Wounded Sky. When a spatial phenomenon visually exposes the hidden nature of people, the only mention of Kirk's true identity is a cryptic question from McCoy which goes unanswered: "That armor getting heavy?" As second in command, Spock holds Lancelot's position. He also exhibits Lancelot's mystique of incomparable, exotic strength due to his superhuman Vulcan power. Even the sexual purity of the pre-Guinevere Lancelot, parodied so effectively in Alan Jay Lerner's musical Camelot, finds expression in the seven-year cycle of Vulcan abstinence. McCoy follows third in the position of Gawain. He even refers to himself as a "brave knight" in the episode "Shore Leave" before facing the lance of a simulated armored foe. Loyal and trustworthy, McCoy nonetheless routinely challenges the decisions of both Kirk and Spock and holds the medical authority to remove either of them from duty if he deems them unfit for command.
In some senses, the male space of the Enterprise triumvirate represents a pre-Guinevere Camelot. In another, however, the Enterprise itself is Guinevere. In the episodes "The Deadly Years" and "Turnabout Intruder," for example, Kirk seems to lament that Spock has taken command, and thus the Enterprise, away from him. In the professional short story "Mind-Sifter" by Shirley S. Maiewski, a damaged Kirk cries out "Why are you wearing my shirt?" to Spock, appalled at the apparent betrayal he sees in Spock wearing the color of command and taking Kirk's Enterprise as his own.)
The three risk life and career for each other routinely. When Spock gives his life in Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan, he entrusts his katra, or soul, to McCoy. McCoy responds by braving madness and death to save Spock, admitting to the Vulcan: "I couldn't stand to lose you again." In Star Trek V: The Final Frontier, Kirk calls his First Officer and his Chief Medic family, alluding to Spock's death and rebirth by saying: "I lost a brother once. But I was lucky. I got him back." The three not only serve as fellow officers in the Federation, they remain together even off-duty as friends and brothers.
[Of course, the relationship between Kirk, Spock, and McCoy is not always interpreted as "brotherly." Just as some authors depict Arthurian characters as gay (see, for example, Catherine Christian's portrayal of Palomides and the Palomides/Peredur relationship in The Pendragon.), some fan authors write Trek characters as either homosexual or bisexual. In classic Trek fan fiction, these stories, called "slash" fiction by the writers and readers, usually take the form of Kirk/Spock romances, but different and multiple pairings within the triad exist.]
The characters of Kirk, Spock, and McCoy form a symbolic whole in the Star Trek universe, incomplete without each member and the indispensable ingredients he brings. In the episode "The Empath," for example, alien scientists trap and torture the three officers in order to allow a young empath to observe the courage and compassion they bring out in each other. At the end of the cruel interlude, the alien scientists tell the men that the three of them
The Next Generation
If the triad forms the base of Arthurian and Star Trek lore, then the next layer of storytelling begins with the specific tales of individual characters and their unique adventures. Beginning with Wace's first mention of the Round Table in 1155, Arthurian myth expanded to include a whole host of characters and their own separate romances. This episodic focus on knights and their personal travails reached its height in the late 12th century with Chretien de Troyes. The Frenchman's medieval romances followed such heroes as Erec, Lancelot, Yvain, and Perceval through star-crossed love affairs, endurance tests, and miraculous conversions. In these tales and others, such as the famous 15th-century Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, Arthur retains his crown and eminence, but enjoys only a peripheral role in the immediate plot.
In similar fashion, the 1980s' Star Trek: The Next Generation enlarges the Trek canvas to highlight a number of individuals on board the U.S.S. Enterprise. To be sure, Jean-Luc Picard's captaincy remains center stage. But Picard's command style dilutes the focus by stressing the delegation of power and cooperation among a fellowship of equals. The "Big Three" of the classic series thus becomes the "Big Nine" (eventually, with the loss of the characters Tasha Yar and Wesley Crusher, the "Big Seven"). This decentralization is best reflected in the series by the repetition of the senior officers' weekly off-duty game of poker. As Marleen S. Barr notes, "The round card table is the Round Table. In the postmodern United States, Camelot and Star Trek never end."
As with the Arthurian texts, this Round Table motif leads to exclusive character-centered works of fiction. The best professional examples of this are the Pocket Books Riker-Troi romance novels Imzadi and Imzadi II: Triangle. Fan fiction readers also demand this variety. The oldest continually-running Star Trek fan publisher, twenty-plus-year-old ORION Press, at its height offered a wide range of Star Trek fiction in all four versions. For The Next Generation, ORION published two anthologies devoted to the series broadly, Idylls and Four Lights, as well as one ongoing anthology devoted to Picard, Involution, one to Doctor Beverly Crusher, Fire and Ice, one to William Riker, Number One, and one to the Riker-Troi romance, Imzadi. The number of fanzines addressing specific characters and their adventures, then, outnumbered the general Next Generation anthologies two to one. More to the point, at the time ORION offered no character-specific ongoing anthologies for any of the other Star Trek series, although it published fiction for all Trek franchises equally. It seems the Round Table motif, whether in Arthuriana or Star Trek, leads to a more personalized set of adventures with a wide array of protagonists. The tale of each knight of Camelot, or each officer of the Federation, becomes a myth all its own.
Deep Space Nine
Although the tales of Arthur originated in the oral traditions of Wales, Cornwall, and Brittany, rich with Celtic inspiration, they took on a distinctively Christian flavor as the faith spread west. This fusion may be best represented by the Arthurian incorporation of the Biblical figure of Joseph of Arimathea. According to the New Testament, Joseph petitioned for the body of Christ after the crucifixion and buried it in his own tomb. According to legend, Joseph also possessed the Holy Grail, the cup from which Jesus drank at the Last Supper. William of Malmesbury places Joseph in Britain, which matches Gallic legend of Joseph, along with Mary Magdalene, Lazarus, Martha, and others, traveling through France. The 13th-century romance Sone de Nausay draws Joseph directly into the Arthurian cycle. According to the tale, Joseph drives the Saracens from Norway and marries the daughter of a pagan ruler. He becomes the Fisher King, a wounded man ruling a cursed kingdom until he is eventually cured by a knight. Joseph also lives in such works as the “Queste” and “Estoire” of the Vulgate Cycle, and a host of Arthurian texts thereafter. In this way, the Christian formula of sin and redemption, prophecy and fulfillment, meets the Arthurian cast of characters. Arthur himself, then, is not merely a great general and king, he is chosen of God, the one through whom miracles become reality.
If Star Trek: The Next Generation recalls the image of the Round Table, then it is Star Trek: Deep Space Nine which takes the Arthurian parallel a step further by addressing the modern intersection of the secular and the religious. In Deep Space Nine, Captain Sisko, the human in charge of space station Deep Space Nine, discovers that he is considered to be the Emissary, a visionary and saint, by the Bajoran people who inhabit the station and the nearby planet Bajor. As with the Christian interpretation of Arthur, a man becomes both a military and religious leader whose words carry the dual weight of command and prophecy.
The uneasy juxtaposition of statecraft and spirituality offers Deep Space Nine some of the most fascinating conflicts found in any Star Trek. In the series premiere "Emissary," for example, the spiritual leader of the Bajorans, Kai Opaka, a "Joseph of Arimathea" link between the Bajoran religion and the Federation presence at the nearby space station, announces that Captain Sisko is, in fact, the prophesied Emissary. Sisko agrees to accept this role with discomfort, not quite a believer and yet aware of the good he could do for the Bajorans if given this credibility with them. In the episode "Starship Down," Sisko is injured during a mission. His First Officer, a Bajoran believer named Major Kira Nerys, seems to pray both for him and to him. The line between his role as her commanding officer and his place as the prophesied savior of her people dissolves.
As the series progresses, Sisko struggles with his dual role, sometimes, as in the episode "Accession," questioning his calling, and other times, as in the recent "Rapture," embracing his duty as Emissary and receiving mystic visions of the future while in a trance-like state. The infusion of apocalyptic language and messianic imagery contrasts with the very common experience of uncertainty and self-doubt. Perhaps Deep Space Nine, like no other Star Trek, reflects the reason Lynnette Muir believes Arthur and Star Trek both continue speak to audiences: "The characters in these golden ages were not gods or supermen, but human beings with human failings despite their heroic stature." Richard Raben and Hiyaguha Cohen agree with Muir, arguing that the mythological leaders of history in any age share comparable qualities. They list the Star Trek captains as such leaders in the company of others such as Odysseus, Hercules, White Buffalo Woman, and, of<
Enterprise
Interestingly enough, the current incarnation of Star Trek, Enterprise (2001-present), brings the franchise full circle by returning to the exploration theme and heroic triad of The Original Series. In this case, the Kirk-Spock-McCoy, or Arthur-Lancelot-Gawain, dynamic is filled by the Captain, First Officer, and Chief Engineer, namely Jonathan Acher, T’Pol, and Charles “Trip” Tucker. The three take dinner together alone, and each regularly seems to reach decisions only in consultation with the other two.
Once more Lancelot becomes a Vulcan; despite the fact she is a woman, and Tucker’s lover, the dynamic never seems to fall into the gendered lines of the Arthur-Guinevere-Lancelot triangle. As in the original Trek, it is the starship itself that takes on the role of Guinevere, if any such role exists, and not an individual character. The ship itself at times drives dark acts and inspires dissent. For example, it is the trellium-D insulation of Enterprise to which T’Pol becomes addicted throughout the third season, and the needs of Enterprise that lead Archer to steal from and strand the Illyrians in the third season episode “Damage.”
Perhaps Armory Officer Lieutenant Malcolm Reed anticipates some aspects of what makes the Perceval character central in Arthurian lore. A loner (“Silent Enemy,” “Shuttlepod One,” “Minefield”) destined, it seems, to remain alone and virgin-like (“E2”), Reed dedicates himself to the preservation of the ship and crew, sometimes to the point of obsession (“Harbinger”). Fan fiction authors such as Nijijin of the “Understood” series portray Reed as a sacrificial character buying peace and safety for Enterprise at any cost, even his own life. In “Warlords, Mad Dogs, and Englishmen,” Taryn Eve paints Reed as a prophesied, messianic, though self-doubting, figure:
"’Takash,’ he said, despairing. ‘I'm not the Brother to Battles. You've come to the wrong place if you're seeking a savior, my friend.’
“Tiryal grinned. ‘I make my own prophecies, friend Reed.’”
Despite this partial allusion to Perceval, however, Reed remains a background figure in the Enterprise series. The majority of the action and drama, as in The Original Series, remains with the triumvirate.
Star Trek: Where King Arthur Has Gone Before
The five incarnations of Star Trek not only illumine different aspects of the Arthurian tradition, but they also share with Arthuriana an overarching need for the fantastic. But in the post-Enlightenment twentieth and twenty-first centuries, Star Trek does with technology what Camelot did with magic. Lunete's magical invisibility ring in Yvain is replaced with the Romulan's cloaking device in "Balance of Terror." The Green Giant's transformation from lord to monster in Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, accomplished by magic, is replaced by Commander Data's transformation from near-robot to near-human, accomplished by an emotion chip in Star Trek: Generations. Merlin's memory of the past, gained as he magically "lives backwards" in Camelot, is replaced by Kirk and crew's memory of the past, gained as they time traveled in a starship using the sun's gravity to produce a slingshot effect in Star Trek IV: The Voyage Home. The parallels are endless. Merlin the miracle-worker of magic serves the same stylistic need as Engineer Scott, the miracle-worker of technology. The effect, ultimately, is the same. As Arthur C. Clarke observes, "Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic."
Most intriguing is the fact that fans of Star Trek, through the participatory world of fandom so well documented by the likes of Joan Marie Verba, Henry Jenkins, Camille Bacon-Smith, John Tulloch, Constance Penley, Jeff Greenwald, Jon Wagner, and Jan Lundeen, draw explicit comparisons between<
Herein we discuss ... all the things you watch read and play
