The Trouble With Tribbles Part 5

Television is an intimate, me-and-you communication device. There's no room for Cecil B. DeMille and the parting of the Red Sea. You have to forego the spectacles and concentrate on the small stories, the soft ones.

When I went to school, the importance of the story was that the incident it tells is the most important event that will ever happen to this character. And that's true of movies, novels and plays-whatever happens to the hero, whatever he learns, will be the most important thing that he will ever learn in his whole life. Whether he's Captain Ahab who doesn't learn, or Captain Queeg who does, this is the reason for his existence.

On television, however, you know that these characters are going to be back next week-so you know that what you're seeing this week isn't all that important, 'cause next week's gonna be a whole new adventure.

You can't do high tragedy on a continuing series, or even high comedy. Because you can't sustain it week after week.

You can't run your characters in emotional high gear all the time. You'll burn them out; they'll cease to be believable.

And so, because the nature of the medium prevents you from being great week after week, many writers don't try to be great. They just try to "be good." Instead of comedy and tragedy, they do melodrama and farce. They do the soft stories-the ones that are amusing, but not totally involving. They do the stories that are not about the most important incident in the characters' lives.

In a continuing series, you do stories that support the continuity of the series. And if you want to be good, every time you see yourself falling into a "formula" story-do the opposite.

One of STAR TREK'S strengths was its .exibility. Because the format was so broad-based, it was almost impossible to tell the same kind of story week after week. STAR TREK was not going to fall into a formula easily.

On the other hand though, that same .exibility made the show the hardest show on television to write for. Both Gene c.o.o.n and Gene Roddenberry felt it was-and more than one writer of proven credits and ability found himself defeated by the need to be totally original for just one hour.

And if the problems were hard for the writers-well, think of the problems that the producers had. The buck stopped on their desks.

But that's what producing is. Decision-making. What stories to tell, how to tell them, and why they are worth telling.

Gene c.o.o.n was the producer I was trying to out-think. A writer of considerable skill himself, he is one of the few people who understands both science .ction and television and how the two can be fused most effectively. This was the man who was going to be looking at my work to see if it pa.s.sed the all-important tests of professionalism and produceability.

Consider: a producer is handed two story premises. They're pretty much the same. Both are equally workable and would make good scripts. But neither is outstanding, just competent. He can only buy one of them; what does he do? He looks at the names of the writers.

If one is a pro and the other's a neo who's trying to break in, which one does he choose?

Which one would you choose?

If you said the neo, you're a hopeless idealist. Go back to square one, you're .red.

If you're a producer, you're a busy man; you haven't got time to run a writing cla.s.s. You know that a fellow named Robert Bloch already understands television writing; he doesn't have to have it explained to him. He's a known quant.i.ty; all you have to worry about is getting him to .t his story into the concept of your show.

On the other hand, you've never heard of David Gerrold-who is this kid anyway? Why should we take a chance on him? He's not doing any thing better than anybody else we're already talking to.

And that's the key to breaking into television.

You're competing with the pros now. You have to be better than they are.

You have to do something outstanding to make the producers notice you. You have to do it on merit alone, because you have no previous credits and nothing else working for you.

If you're almost as good as a pro, or only as good as a pro, well...maybe. If they're desperate. If all their other writers have suddenly died of cirrhosis of the liver, and the story editor has run off to Rio de Janeiro with the petty cash, and it's a writers' strike and they can't .nd any scabs, and the producer's brother-in-law doesn't want to be a writer, and if the Pope suddenly converts to Judaism, then...maybe, they'll buy your story.

Otherwise, they'll buy it from someone who they know can deliver.

In television, a neo has to be better.

I had to put an idea on Gene c.o.o.n's desk that was so good, so outstanding, and so different-without losing sight of STAR TREK'S essential format-that he just had to use it. Or his teeth would ache for the rest of the season.

If the idea was good enough, he'd have to go to the source of it for the script. Me.

Of the .ve premises that I turned in (STAR TREK was renewed in February or March, and I immediately gave these premises to my agent), I believed "The Protracted Man" and "Bandi" to be the best. I expected one or the other of them to sell.

Although, to tell the truth...I had fond hopes for the .fth story too. I thought it might be fun. But no, Gene c.o.o.n had already said he wasn't interested- But the idea wouldn't go away. And I thought, well, maybe I can show him that it can be done-it really doesn't have to be that expensive, and maybe he can be convinced, it's worth a try...

I wasn't exactly sure how to tell it. The premise wasn't very well drawn. It may have been the worst written of the .ve- -but it was the one that sold.

*Hey, this fellow Jones gets around, doesn't he?

*No relation to "The Empath," by Joyce Muskat, written for STAR TREK'S third season. She was using the word to have an entirely different meaning.

*Somehow, in 1967, this seemed a very important point to make.

CHAPTER FOUR.

"The Fuzzies"

(A story premise by David Gerrold, January 1967.) For centuries man has shared his homes and his cities with many other animals and creatures. Some of these animals have been man's partners-co-workers in the .elds. Others have been pets-producing nothing, but returning love. Still others have been most unwelcome guests-parasites living off man and his families.

No matter how advanced the human race may become, it is not likely that men will ever lose their fondness for animals...nor is it likely that animals will ever lose their fondness for man...

However, it is doubtful that vermin will be able to follow man into s.p.a.ce. A s.p.a.ces.h.i.+p or s.p.a.ce station would not ordinarily be plagued by vermin...unless, of course, the vermin are brought aboard willingly.

Such is the case in this story. The story is set at an interstellar trading post and aboard the Enterprise.

The trading post is a s.p.a.ce station hanging in deep s.p.a.ce at a point midway between seven star systems. As such, it is a valuable post for all the systems concerned.

The trading post is a cl.u.s.ter of life support modules joined together seemingly without rhyme or reason. It began as a single s.p.a.ce platform, but as its supporting planets grew more prosperous, the station itself grew, adding new sections as needed. Perhaps it looks like a physicist's model of atomic structure.*

Because it is a structure in s.p.a.ce, rather than on a planet, and because of its convenient location, the trading post is often an interplanetary marketplace. Large transfers of merchandise often occur at the trading post. Because of the convenient warehouse facilities, it is not uncommon for a delivery to wait in storage for several weeks before being picked up.

Those were the .rst two pages of my original premise. When my agent read it, however, he said, "Oh, no-you have to set it on a planet. s.p.a.ce stations cost money. They'd have to build a miniature and a whole set of interiors. If the story looks too expensive, they won't buy it. Write it so they can use a stock frontier town."

I bridled at that. Two reasons-.rst of all, this was a story about little fuzzy creatures getting out of control. If they got loose on a s.p.a.ce station, they could be easily controlled. And that pleased the conservationist in me. On a planet, the ecological damage would be catastrophic. Even though it was only a story, there was still something in my nature that would not allow me to destroy an innocent planet. I just couldn't do it.

Secondly-STAR TREK hadn't used a s.p.a.ce station yet, and if this were truly a s.p.a.ce-going culture, s.p.a.ce stations would be a necessity. h.e.l.l, they'd be commonplace. And I wanted to see a story about one.

But my agent said no. Too expensive. He'd also disagreed with the "Bandi" outline. He couldn't .nd empath in his dictionary. Because the word didn't exist, there was no such thing. The producers of STAR TREK have problems enough already, don't confuse them with strange words.

Obviously, this agent did not understand science .ction. (Which was not the reason we later parted company, but it was one of the reasons why he was not the best possible agent for me.) However, he did understand the mechanics of television. And if he said it was too expensive, then maybe he knew what he was talking about.

So, I rewrote "The Fuzzies." I changed only the setting and some of the grammar. Otherwise, the two versions of it were identical. This is the one that was turned in.

The Fuzzies (A story premise by David Gerrold, February 1967.) For centuries man has shared his homes and his cities with many other animals and creatures. Some of these animals have been man's partners-co-workers in the .elds. Others have been pets-producing nothing, but returning love. Other creatures have not even returned that much.

What is the dividing line between pet and parasite? At what point does a creature cease to be a friend and begin to be a nuisance? This is the subject of this story.1 The story takes place at the "trading post," a small colony on a relatively undeveloped planet. Its culture is roughly that of a small frontier settlement of the 1870s.

Because of its location, the trading post is a convenient stopping place for s.h.i.+ps bound from the civilized worlds of Earth to the less civilized worlds farther out on the frontier. Often, large transfers of merchandise take place here. s.h.i.+pments of cargo destined for the worlds on the frontier are left for weeks at a time and picked up later.

One of these cargoes, waiting in a warehouse, is of special interest to Kirk. It is a s.h.i.+pment of grain-a quick growing, mutated wheat with a high yield per acre. It is destined for a young, recently discovered agricultural planet.

The grain itself is harmless, but it has been the subject of a bitter feud for many months.

The situation is this: the planet Barth is a fantastically fertile world. In just a few short years, the Barth Neo-Corn Corporation has become a multi-billion-dollar company.

The corporation has nearly 40 percent of the planet's usable land under cultivation and is able to export enough grain per year to feed ten worlds. The corporation, though, is a jealous monopoly.

A new company has been formed on Barth, planning to go into compet.i.tion with the corporation. Their intention is to grow wheat. The s.h.i.+pment of grain is their seed crop.2 The Barth Corporation has made of.cial protests that the wheat would destroy the ecological balance, but now that the company is going ahead with its plans, the corporation has been strangely silent.

Damon Jones,3 the purchaser of the grain, is openly worried that the corporation may try to sabotage the crop. Kirk and the crew of the Enterprise have been called in to protect the grain and make sure that it reaches its destination safely.

Jones and an a.s.sistant have just accepted delivery of the grain. It is in a warehouse on the trading post planet.4 They have to wait about three weeks for their own freighter to arrive in order to take the grain back to Barth.

Kirk, of course, does not object to this ch.o.r.e. The planet is a pleasant pastoral planet, and it gives the crew a chance for sh.o.r.e leave. Also, it gives Mr. Scott a chance to repair all the minor damage to the s.h.i.+p that has occurred in previous episodes.

The trading post city itself is a small westernish town. The buildings are quonset huts or wooden frame buildings, or even an occasional log hut.5 (Anything that exists on the back lot that can be used to suggest a fairly young town.) The trading post has a population of several thousand, and there are many interesting shops scattered about. As it is a jumping off place between the frontier and the civilized worlds, naturally many interesting artifacts and items are available in the shops. Many members of the Enterprise crew can be seen buying hand-carved chess sets, crystal earrings, fancy belts, and other souvenirs.

Kirk and Spock, however, have not had time to do much shopping. They have been busy watching for possible attempts to get at the grain.6 One way is to keep tabs on all arrivals and departures.

Rather than a s.p.a.ceport, the planet has a transport station of its own. All Kirk and Spock have to do is hang around it and see who beams down from a s.h.i.+p.7 When a small scout s.h.i.+p arrives at the trading post, Kirk and Spock hurry to the transport station to see who its pilot is. The pilot is a planet locater named Cyrano Smith.8 He locates usable planets and sells the rights to them to large corporations.

Not all planets are worth exploiting-some are methane giants, like Jupiter, but occasionally a locater will discover a planet like Earth. A planet like that is worth a fortune-a locater can retire.

The situation is roughly akin to California gold mining in the old west. Like a prospector, a locater is a colorful, larger-than-life .gure.

This particular locater is of the type who will do anything for a quick buck. Because of his roguish manner, Kirk and Spock have immediate suspicions about his motives at the trading post.

Kirk takes it upon himself to issue a general warning.9 Cyrano protests-he insists that his motives are honorable. He has been in s.p.a.ce a long time. He wants to rest a bit, take on supplies, and then he will leave again.

After Smith moves on, Spock comments: "A most unusual man. It would be logical to keep him under surveillance."

Kirk agrees. They follow Smith. As Smith is short on funds, he plans to sell some of his local artifacts for Interstellar Credit Units.10 There are several s.h.i.+ps that specialize in buying and selling unusual items from the frontier.

Kirk and Spock just happen to casually wander into one shop just in time to witness the transaction between Smith and the proprietor. Most of Smith's items are fairly commonplace, and do not bring a very good price, but Smith has brought with him something that is very unusual.

That something is a fuzzy. Apparently, Smith has found the creature on some planet during his explorations. It is a pet, he replies in answer to the shopkeeper's question.

Actually, Smith, being something of a con man, is just setting up the shopkeeper. Smith lets him hold the fuzzy. The shopkeeper takes it curiously. The creature throbs and purrs in his hand like a hedonistic kitten.

Kirk and Spock move in for a closer look. The fuzzy is a small colorful ball of .uff. This one is a particularly small one, only about the size of a tennis ball, but Smith notes that he has seen them as big as volleyb.a.l.l.s. The fuzzy is soft and warm and a bright green-gold color. It has no legs and no eyes-just a small soft mouth.

When stroked, it throbs and purrs. It loves being held, and it loves the warmth of the human hand. It moves by pulsing and .exing its body or by rolling, depending on how fast or how far it wants to go. It is a simple life form with only two senses, a heat detection sense and a food detection sense.

(The fuzzies, as I imagine them, are like those b.a.l.l.s of .uff available in novelty shops, though not so garishly colored.11 They can be hollow gloves so that the actor who is holding the fuzzy can manipulate it like a hand puppet.) The shopkeeper queries Smith about the creature. Kirk and Spock listen interestedly. As the shopkeeper questions him, it becomes apparent that the man is thinking in terms of a possible pro.t. Smith, being a con man, is noncommittal. High-pressure tactics are bad sales techniques.

"Is it dangerous?" asks the shopkeeper.

"Harmless as a newborn babe. I'd sooner sleep wearing a coat of fuzzies than a blanket."

"Does it eat much?"

"It will eat as much as you want to feed it-this particular one has gone for a week without being fed."

"What happens when you don't feed it?"

"It loses weight. It gradually gets smaller and smaller until it reaches one inch in diameter. If you don't feed it then, it dies."

"What does it eat?"

"Anything people can eat."

"Is it clean?"

"It's probably cleaner than you are," Smith says to the shopkeeper.

"What about its commercial possibilities? Is it edible?"

"I don't know. I never tried."

"What about its fur? Can that be used?"

"Probably."12 "I suppose that's the only one you have..."

"No...I have a few more in my s.h.i.+p. I never travel without a few fuzzies."

"What'll you take for them?"

Smith shakes his head. "I couldn't sell my family...unless the price were right."

The shopkeeper is insistent. He and Smith haggle for a bit. Eventually they agree on terms. Smith will sell the shopkeeper twenty-.ve small fuzzies, which he just happens to have, and the shopkeeper will pay Smith ten credits apiece.

As a sign of goodwill, Smith leaves the shopkeeper the .rst fuzzy. He will bring the rest in a few hours. He leaves, giving the shopkeeper a word of warning not to feed the fuzzy too much at .rst. "Give him a chance to get acclimated."

Kirk and Spock examine the animal on the counter top, then they follow Smith.

Smith is surprised when they follow him into another store, but he continues with his business. It becomes quickly apparent that he is setting up another shopkeeper just as he set up the .rst. He pulls another fuzzy out of his kit bag...