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Audiobook
First published September 30, 1991
Penalt seemed to be trying to display his physical strength and dexterity at least as much as he was trying to produce music. There were moments when Kirk wondered if the keys would stand up to the assault as Penalt's rigid fingers hammered down on them. Often--whenever the tempo allowed--his hands would arc up to shoulder level or higher and his whole upper body would aid them in crashing back down. Even when the tempo was too fast for such embellishments, his bobbing head and shoulders kept the action going, as if he were using their motion and the sometimes tortured looks that twisted his features to wring a more stirring performance out of the accompanying computer....Then a woman who is in a class all her own, though Penalt doesn't know that, is talked into playing.
As Penalt finished with the Mozart piece--full of pyrotechnics, all sparkle and dazzle and flying fingers--he stood with a flourish and bowed to the applause...
"At least he's good--isn't he?" Kirk glanced from Uhura to Sulu.
"He has to be pretty good," Uhura said with a grin, "to do all that flailing around and still hit most of the right notes."
"Good, but not as good as he thinks he is," Sulu added. Nobody could be that good."
And Jandra played.All of this happens between pages 99 and 104. I reckon I remembered that part because during my teens and most of my 20s, I was all about playing the piano. I remembered nothing that preceded that scene and nothing following it. The reason for the latter is that I probably quit reading pretty soon after that part. The reason for the former is that, frankly, nothing happens for 100 pages and the probe is barely mentioned. Friend Matt read Jurassic Park around the same time, and he said Probe was pretty slow by comparison. I asked him "so, around page two hundred of Probe, it's 'the probe veered left and slowly sailed through space,' and you open Jurassic Park to page one and it's 'AND THE DINOSAUR BIT HIS HEAD OFF!'" And we laughed and laughed... I guess you had the be there.
Without a single false start or misstep, she played.
The contrast to Penalt could not have been greater.
Where he had thundered, she whispered.
Where he had thrown his entire body into the playing, as if physically ripping the sounds from the instrument, she remained almost eerily motionless as her fingers, as if possessed of an independent life, coaxed the sound from the keys, delicately shaping each and every note.
Where he had raced, she strolled languidly, poignantly through the adagio movement, letting the sound drift out and envelop her listeners and draw them in rather than hurling it at them in a desperate bid for attention.
Star Trek: Probe is a direct literary sequel to Star Trek IV: The Voyage Home, and it takes on the ambitious task of answering a question that the film deliberately left open: what exactly was the Whale Probe, and where did it come from? Rather than turning that mystery into a simple explanation, the novel expands it into something much larger, stranger, and far more connected to the wider Star Trek universe than one might expect from a late-1980s tie-in novel.
Overall, I would rate Probe three stars. It is an interesting and sometimes genuinely bold book, but also one that struggles with pacing and consistency. It has moments of real insight and imagination, followed by sections that feel slower or less engaging. Still, when it works, it works very well.
The novel picks up after the events of The Voyage Home, with Starfleet trying to understand the true nature of the Probe that nearly destroyed Earth. At the same time, political changes on Romulus open the door to an unusual and fragile cooperation between the Federation and the Romulan Empire. This political subplot adds an extra layer to the story, grounding the mystery of the Probe in a broader galactic context and giving the novel a more “classic Trek” feel, focused on diplomacy, uncertainty, and cautious trust.
The strongest aspect of Probe is without question its exploration of the Probe’s origin and creators. Through Spock’s mind meld and later revelations, the book presents the Probe not as a mindless machine or a hostile entity, but as an artificial intelligence created by an ancient civilization with a very specific purpose: to seek out intelligence comparable to its makers. The tragedy is that most life forms it encounters are so fundamentally different that it categorizes them as insignificant—“mites”—and therefore ignores the damage it causes.
This concept alone would already make for an intriguing story, but Probe goes much further. The most striking revelation is the history of the Probe’s creators and their destruction during what they called the Second Winnowing. The novel describes an invasion by vast, cube-shaped machines filled with countless small beings—clearly recognizable to modern readers as the Borg, even though the term is never used. These invaders are immune to the creators’ “True Language” and respond only with devastating force. The creators manage to survive extinction only by fleeing their world, scattering across space, while their sun itself is extinguished as part of the attack.
What makes this revelation so effective is how subtly it is handled. The book does not treat this as a shocking twist for the characters, but as a tragic piece of ancient history uncovered through fragmented memory and alien perception. The Probe itself was damaged in its encounter with these invaders, losing parts of its memory and unknowingly leading the same enemies back to its creators’ homeworld. This adds a layer of guilt and existential confusion to the Probe that makes it far more compelling than a typical god-machine antagonist.
From a franchise perspective, this is where Probe becomes especially fascinating. Decades before The Next Generation formally introduced the Borg, this novel retroactively places them deep in the distant past of the galaxy. It implies that both the Federation and the Romulans have, without realizing it, stumbled upon fragments of Borg-related history. Even the discussion of Erisian ruins and memory crystals suggests that civilizations encountered in later eras may have indirect connections to this ancient cycle of destruction and survival.
Spock’s role in the story is another highlight. His interaction with the Probe is less about domination or control and more about redefining intelligence itself. By broadening the Probe’s rigid criteria and helping it understand humanoid life as worthy of consideration, Spock prevents it from repeating its past mistakes. At the same time, he is unable to restore its lost memories, reinforcing the idea that some damage—whether technological or historical—cannot simply be undone.
That said, the novel is not without flaws. The pacing can be uneven, with some sections feeling overly dense or slow, especially when the narrative leans heavily into exposition. The Romulan subplot, while interesting in concept, does not always receive the depth it deserves. These issues prevent Probe from reaching the level of a truly great Star Trek novel.
In the end, Star Trek: Probe is a book that earns its three-star rating through ambition rather than execution. It does not always succeed, but it dares to ask big questions about intelligence, responsibility, and the unintended consequences of survival. Most impressively, it quietly lays conceptual groundwork that later Star Trek stories—especially The Next Generation—would explore in far greater detail. For fans interested in deep lore connections and early hints of the Borg, Probe remains a flawed but genuinely rewarding read.