Radio Spectroscopy Observations at the Madrid Deep Space Station

Author(s):  
J. F. Gómez ◽  
I. De Gregorio-Monsalvo ◽  
E. Jiménez-Bailón ◽  
C. García-Miró ◽  
O. Suárez ◽  
...  
2020 ◽  
Vol 20 (7) ◽  
pp. 102
Author(s):  
Lue Chen ◽  
Jin-Song Ping ◽  
Xiang Liu ◽  
Na Wang ◽  
Jian-Feng Cao ◽  
...  

2020 ◽  
Author(s):  
Christopher M. Watson ◽  
Bruce Clarke ◽  
Adrian Eilingsfeld ◽  
Nicolo Fantinato ◽  
Bakari Hassan ◽  
...  

1986 ◽  
Vol 14 ◽  
pp. 97-103 ◽  
Author(s):  
Tamiya Nomura ◽  
Tomonao Hayashi ◽  
Toshimitsu Nishimura ◽  
Haruto Hirosawa ◽  
Mitsuru Ichikawa
Keyword(s):  

2019 ◽  
Vol 8 (2) ◽  
pp. 157-162
Author(s):  
Hannah Orlove

Watching Deep Space Nine was an exercise in peering around corners and being unable to get a straight-on view of what I knew to be just beyond my field of vision. Not necessarily in terms of the greater world of the Star Trek universe – that I could see much more easily, as DS9 is still the only Star Trek series that took the time to consider what day-to-day life would be like in the greater world of the show outside of Federation starships thanks to it being set on a space station, boldly parking instead of going – but very specifically, in regards to Julian Bashir. The show’s primary medical character, a bright young doctor straight out of Starfleet Academy, who quickly learns there’s more to his mission than he thought while never losing any of his dedication or kindness.   I’ve read about Alexander Siddig’s portrayal of Bashir, of his work turning him from someone deliberately unlikable into one of Star Trek’s beloved characters. I’m familiar with Bashir’s backstory and growth, his canonical developmental disorder and his transformation from fresh-faced graduate to hardened, mature officer. And throughout it all, I’ve always wondered, did they mean for him to sound like me?


Sign in / Sign up

Export Citation Format

Share Document