The title of this episode, "Crossing the Line," is a compellingly evocative phrase that overshadows its literal weight in terms of word economy. Upon further reflection and analysis, I have revised my initial assessment to identify six major instances of line-crossing and two or three smaller ones for good measure. Whether this level of detail represents exceptional cleverness or inadvertently ventures into the insufferable absurdity that lies beyond mere cleverness, it serves as a helpful organizational framework for the episode's many twists and turns.
Initially, the strike by Happy Valley's management against its workers is presented as a breach of contractual obligation. The workers, however, counter that management has long been crossing the line of reasonable workplace safety, and now proposes to add insult to literal injury by failing to pay them adequately for their dangerous work. Two of the most consistent strengths of both the WGA and SAG-AFTRA prior to and throughout their strikes this year were the clarity of their demands and their seemingly unshakeable solidarity as they negotiated new collective bargaining agreements. These are aspects of successful labor actions that require considerable time to develop, refine, and maintain. In contrast, the Happy Valley workers' strike is almost devoid of these elements.
The negotiation session, if we can even call it that, is a disaster from beginning to end. Massey is the sole individual in that overcrowded conference room prepared to engage in a serious, clear conversation about the issues. Consequently, the entire scene devolves into a chaotic shouting match. Dani can't believe Ed's union-man talk is sincere, while he retorts that "it's time for you to climb down off your goddamn throne and do what's right." He's so far into "You're not wrong, Walter, you're just an asshole" territory that I would like to physically intervene and smack him directly upside his stubborn little head.
The only person who consistently sounds like an adult speaking in good faith throughout the episode here is Massey. However, thanks to Ed's constant interruptions, her points and questions don't land as they ought to. Dani claims to have bent over backward to address workers' concerns but by doing what, other than fixing the communications satellite when she first arrived at Happy Valley? That wasn't going the extra mile; it was merely putting in some necessary effort to meet a basic need that everyone on base is entitled to.
I struggle with how poorly Dani is handling the strike. It feels very out of character for her to have missed the signs of its approach and to be so ill-prepared in response. The most generous interpretation I can muster is to lay most of the blame on the intensity and urgency of the Goldilocks capture mission. However advantageous it would be to guide that $2 trillion hunk of rock to Earth, it can't be done at the expense of the safety of workers with minimal job security and earning insultingly low wages. She's simply wrong here, and Palmer's reflexive authoritarian yelling about the strikers being in breach of contract would be almost funny if it weren't so unhelpful. The workers would be adhering to their contractual obligations if they weren't being treated like so much space junk waiting to happen.
From here, the workers and management engage in increasingly ingenious and pig-headed acts of provocation, trading off line-crossing maneuvers until their one-upmanship results in tragedy. The strikers pile all of the space suits in a heap between HQ and the fuel plant and then use rovers to block entrance to the airlocks, a stroke of genius that even Palmer grudgingly admires. A team of scabs (astronauts and cosmonauts, plus Palmer) then drain some water refinement pipes and crawl 800 yards on their bellies to gain entrance to the fuel plant to get it back online. Everyone involved is nothing if not proficient at solving mechanical problems.
One person's seemingly harmless "annoying but not inherently dangerous" sabotage can turn into another's industrial disaster waiting to happen. When the scabs bypass the missing primary gas-flow regulator (which was almost an afterthought and swiped by one of the striking workers), their workaround quickly overloads the argon production system, leading to an explosion that kills four and seriously injures four more of the astronaut-cosmonaut team. Two things are indisputable here: The explosion was unequivocally awful and should never have happened, and this is precisely the kind of thing that can occur when overconfident and impatient individuals disregard their less-credentialed colleagues and insist on pursuing untested alternate solutions. The astronauts and cosmonauts are engineers, not a group of amateurs trying their best. A few more minutes of reflection could have prevented the explosion.
Unsurprisingly, neither the management on Mars nor on Earth sees it that way, and they accuse the striking workers of crossing a line into...terrorism? Acts of nonviolent sabotage are highly inconvenient (disruption to business as usual is one of the key overarching goals of such tactics!), and the theft of the regulator could cause Happy Valley to lose their chance at capturing Goldilocks, but that does not rise to the level of terrorism.
It was bad enough when Irina and Eli were casually framing the strike as a "tantrum" and scoffing at the "crazy" demand to mine Goldilocks in Mars orbit. The next thing we know, the CIA deputy director is laying out options for armed quashing of the strike. It turns out there are both CIA and KGB assets on Mars, and they have access to "standard attenuated energy projectile systems," a grotesquely euphemistic name for "high-pressure nitrogen weapons firing nonlethal rounds, which cannot pierce the walls of the HAB." Will's immediate follow-up question about whether these high-tech rubber bullets "pierce skin" is the gentlest response possible to this choice tidbit of information.
CIA Deputy Director Bob protests that he's simply providing Eli and Will with information in case things escalate further. How, Eli wonders aloud, would authorizing a handful of intelligence officers to implement martial law on Mars de-escalate anything? It's a great question! Bob continues to hammer away about the importance of re-establishing control and stopping terrorist attacks, and Will's suggestion of deputizing and arming Happy Valley personnel who have "adequate military training" manages to sway Eli. Space Guns 1.0 were a terrible idea in season two, and it's not at all clear how this is a better option than putting the CIA and KGB in charge. Nonetheless, Dani duly hands out Space Guns 2.0 and directs the team to "find those responsible for the explosion and keep an eye out for anything suspicious so we can prevent any further tragedy."
The Space Pinkertons' plotline—a tale of vengeance and cross-cutting—brings to light how even the most sensible individuals can lose their capacity for sound judgment when billions of dollars are on the line. It's as if the residents of Happy Valley and NASA have never heard of the Stanford Prison Experiment; the "security" sweep montage reveals a group of individuals already more powerful than the striking workers, who use their unearned and unnecessary power boost to behave like rampaging prison guards. They're turning over people's bunks, destroying harmless personal property, and assaulting workers who protest—all in the name of sending a message. A helpful message might be something along the lines of, "Let's all take a deep breath and calm down," but instead, what they're transmitting loud and clear is, "The beatings will continue until morale improves."
This is a prime moment for Dev—who has just arrived on Mars and, outside of the strike, seems happier and more at ease than we've ever seen him—to swoop into the not-so-secret worker meeting area with a five-pound bag of sugar, pouring it out in a line between himself and the strikers. If there's a way to do something dramatically, Dev will always find it. I don't believe for a moment his professed respect for the workers' clarity in bargaining and staunch standing of their ground, but he does know how to make a persuasive argument for getting back to work. His offer is a powerfully appealing combo pack of health and safety improvements, along with a package that includes higher pension contributions, better healthcare, a big one-time bonus, and most significantly, amnesty from any "terrorist" actions they may have participated in. It's too tempting to pass up, and once the first person takes the deal, nearly all of the remaining dominoes fall. In the end, only Ed, Massey, Gerardo, Julie, and Holly (a.k.a. "Sparks") haven't crossed one line and gotten back into another. Thus, the Mars strike of 2003 ends.
Back on Earth, we have a handful of comparatively smaller line-crossings. Margo breezily receives the news that she will be returning to Houston to chair key sessions in preparation for capturing Goldilocks. No need to worry about diplomatic immunity—it's all been arranged by her new Motherland! Aleida's response to this update—which she receives on-camera during an interview on Eagle News—is to cuss a blue streak and give her interviewer the finger as she storms off set. Iconic. I only wish we'd gotten to see more of it. Aleida's absolute refusal to suffer fools is perhaps not her most hirable quality, but it is one of her best.
One of Kelly Baldwin's best qualities is her readiness to be loving and frank with her father. He's regressed so much this season that it's unsurprising to see that he relates to Alex the way he used to act with Shane. The Old Ed demanded respect from his late son without earning it, and he's attempting to do the same with Alex, but Kelly won't stand for it. It's an imperfect and bumpy reunion, but at least the lower gravity on Mars is good for Alex's health; Dr. Mayakovsky is very happy with his improved blood pressure and lung capacity.
The last line crossing is the biggest of the episode, one worthy of Dev's penchant for drama. The day following Ed's not-so-great spaghetti dinner with Kelly and Alex, he barges into Ed's quarters and delivers a monologue about how the two of them are birds of a feather: Neither wants to return to Earth, and both want Mars to grow into "a living, breathing society" for the future. How is that even going to be possible now that Dev broke the strike? It looks like Dev was playing a quick round of 12-dimensional chess, using his strike-breaking to bring out the workers who "really believe in something bigger than themselves." To do what exactly? Why, what else: to "take what is rightfully ours." It's time for an asteroid heist!
