[April 26, 1970] Red stars in space (Communist China and the USSR make leaps)

photo of a man with glasses and curly, long, brown hair, and a beard and mustache
by Gideon Marcus

It's likely you missed the other big news in space given how much the flight of Apollo 13 dominated the air waves.  But while we were busy ensuring that Lovell, Swigert, and Haise made it back home, the ChiComs and the Russkies were accomplishing some space spectaculars of their own:

If you look up in the sky, you'll see nine new stars, all of them Red!

The East is Red

Radio Peking announced the launch on its April 24th evening newscast, crediting Chairman Mao's leadership for the success.  This makes China (the Communist one that we don't recognize as existing) the fifth nation to orbit a satellite with its own booster (Japan having beaten its neighbor to the punch by just two months). Thousands of Chinese marched through Tien An Men Square in an organized demonstration clearly planned in advance.  To the sound of exploding firecrackers and the crashing of drums and cymbals, the young and old paraded with red banners and portraits of the Chairman while a People's Liberation Army group carried a man-high model of the Chinese ideogram for double-happiness, while downtown office buildings were lit with white lights and colored bulbs decorated trees along the Boulevard of Eternal Peace.

Colour photograph from an elevated vantage of large crowds of people gathered in Tien An Men Square, illuminated from above by brilliant lamps

Colour photograph of Chinese youth walking, holding up large portaits of Chairman Mao

The satellite is called DongFangHong, which means "The East is Red", and as it orbited, the spacecraft broadcast on 20.009 megacycles the revolutionary song of the same name.  Its eccentric orbit takes it nearly 1500 miles above the Earth and down to just under 300, circling the globe every 114 minutes.  The satellite masses a respectable 173 kilograms, suggesting a rocket similar in capability to our Delta (compare, say, Relay 1).  The satellite is being tracked closely both by the United States and by Nationalist China (Formosa/Taiwan).

B&W photograph of a globe-shaped satellite formed of quadrilateral panels assembled above and below a wide belt.  There appear to be whip antennae protruding from all four quadrants around the belt and up from the pole opposite what appears to be the bell of a thruster
The Dong Fang Hong satellite

America's reaction to the flight was something of a yawn. NASA Administrator, Dr. Thomas O. Paine, released this statement:

“This new development has been anticipated for some time. . . . It is a dramatic demonstration of the determination of the Chinese leaders, despite many problems, to put science and technology very high on their list of national priorities.”

Scientists at the Department of Defense and the Air Force displayed a distinct lack of surprise.  Indeed, Defense Secretary Melvin R. Laird told Congress on February 20 that he expected the Reds to try a launch soon.  One unidentified DOD scientist quoted by the Associated Press stated that the launch did not necessarily mean that the ChiComs had developed an ICBM, which makes sense—the Delta is derived from the shorter ranged Thor IRBM.  Still, Intelligence analysts estimated Communist China might be able to develop and deploy 10 to 25 intercontinental ballistic missiles by mid-1975, which could threaten the United States. 

Or as Tom Lehrer might sing, "China's got the Bomb, but have no fear—they can't wipe us out for at least five years!" 

Japan concurred, officials saying that if China had developed a guidance system for satellite launching, it soon would be able to fire intercontinental missiles with high precision.  Some have expressed concern that, with the Communist Chinese entering the missile race, ABM development will be accelerated, derailing the ongoing Strategic Arms Limitations Talks (SALT). 

Colour photograph of a hardback book bearing the title 'Why ABM - Policy issues in the missile defense controversy Ed. Johan J. Holst and William Schneider Jr.

More positive were the U.K., whose Minister of Technology, Anthony Wedgwood Benn, congratulated Chinese government, their engineers and space workers on the launch, and West Germany, whose Bochum Observatory called the event a greater technological feat than the 1957 launch of Russia's Sputnik 1.

Meanwhile, the Soviets, long on the outs with their erstwhile sister country, devoted just 10 words on an inside page of Pravda to the launch.  Tit for tat—the Red Chinese don't talk about Soviet flights, either.  Romania, on the other hand, in a wider orbit from the USSR than other Warsaw Pact states, congratulated the Chinese for "fresh successes in the field of scientific investigation of outer space," and Albania, a long-time supporter of the Chicoms, also hailed the achievement.  North Vietnam's news agency said that the launching "brings out the supremacy of socialism and contributes to the development of science and technology in the interests of progressive mankind."  That rounds out the Communist response.

Pakistan President Yahya Khan, in a message to Chinese Premier Chou En-lai, called the launch a "great step forward," demonstrating the progress of China’s technology.  He said the feat "by our friendly neighbor has been received by us with a feeling of admiration."  It is no coincidence that India and Red China have been trading shots across their border, so even though Pakistan is far from a Communist country, "the enemy of my enemy is my friend" seems to obtain.

Interestingly, Red China's first satellite is believed to have been the brain-child of Tsien Hsueh-shen, a former MIT and Cal Tech scientist who was a high-ranking Pentagon adviser during World War II.  He was later charged with being a Communist Party member and booted from America in 1955.

B&W Photograph of Tsien Hsueh-shen wearing a suit, looking directly at the camera as his body is turning to the left.  He seems to have a slightly wry expression
Tsien at his deportation hearing in 1950

Well, we certainly showed them!

Communist Octuplets

On the 25th, the Soviets brought off what I believe is their first eight-in-one satellite launch.  Kosmoses 336 through 343 went into medium Earth orbit around the 1000 mile high mark.  No information has been released about the spacecraft, but it reminds me a bit of how we launch eight Initial Defense Communications Satellite Program (IDCSP) satellites at a time on Titan rockets.  This suggests that the Soviets are developing a constellation of military communications satellites separate from their Molniya high-orbit comsats—perhaps for global military use, perhaps for use by missile subs or far-flung Communist countries like Cube or North Vietnam.  It also means that the Russians have perfected the "space bus" architecture for rockets, allowing the deployment of multiple satellites from a single vehicle.

Artist's rendering of a Transtage deploying IDCSP satellites
Artist's rendering of a Titan Transtage deploying IDCSP satellites similar to how the Soviets might have dispersed their Kosmoses

Incidentally, we (America) are a lot more on the ball with regard to Soviet satellites than I thought.  Not only are we able to identify which of the "science" Kosmoses are spy sats, but we can even determine trends in their cadence and capabilities.  Aviation Weekly had an article on it earlier this month, and it was fascinating reading.

Part 1 of a spread of two photographs of a chart where the rows represent years from 1966 at the bottom to 1969 at the top, and columns of January through June.  Distributed temporally are the blocks of time representing recoverable reconnaissance satellite launches
Part 2 of the two photograph spread, covering July through December and presenting a slim total at the far right, showing that the launch rate increased slightly in 1969 during the periods of border clashes with China, and otherwise maintaining a twice-monthly cadence

Chart of soviet launches of recoverable reconnaissance satellites for each year from 1962 through 1969 across two sites, showing both a steady increase, and that while Tyuratam was the initial site to be conducting launches, that the new Plesetsk launch site has recently surpassed it in capacity, and noting that the newer extended duration satellites debuted from the Plesetsk site

So, all in all, an exciting month for the Eastern Hemisphere.  Let's just hope that these developments presage the peaceful development of space…and not doom for the world



[New to the Journey? Read this for a brief introduction!]


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[April 24, 1970] Save Our Ailing Planet (Earth Day: April 22)

Tune in tonight at 7PM Pacific for a very funny and excellent episode of Science Fiction Theater!

Overdramatic closeup of William Shatner as Captain Kirk in Star Trek.



by Erica Frank

Timothy Leary's exhortations to "turn on, tune in, drop out" have found their limits:

You can't turn on if your every breath is filled with poison.
You can't tune in if you are surrounded by industrial cacophony.
You can't drop out of living on Earth: Science fiction plans notwithstanding, it's the only planet we have.

Before we can live in harmony with nature and each other, we need to address the damage we have done and undo the harms to the land, the sea, the sky that sustain us.

That's what Earth Day is about: A day of protest against industrial waste and environmental toxins. A day of celebration of the world we share and the peace we hope to build in the future. A day of education and cooperation, of hard truths and hopeful plans, of turning fear and anger into new relationships and useful actions.

Poster saying War is Not Healthy for Children and Other Living Things, with a drawn flower on a bright yellow background.

Smog is also not healthy for children and other living things. Part of the goal of Earth Day is to bring the energy of anti-war protests to protecting our environment.
Image by Another Mother for Peace (AMP), an anti-war activist group.

Earth Day is the brainchild of Senator Gaylord Nelson of Wisconsin, a Democrat, who invited Pete McCloskey, a Republican, to co-chair the project with him, so it would be bipartisan, obvious to all that it was not meant to promote any one person or group's political agenda. (After all, we all live on the same planet.) Originally planned to just be a teach-in event on college campuses, scheduled in the time between Spring Break and exams, it quickly grew much bigger.

Inspirations

In 1962, Rachel Carson's book Silent Spring described a world where no insects buzzed between flowers, and no birds chirped over their nests. They had been destroyed by chemical warfare — because of course, chemicals designed to kill locusts and aphids do not carefully pass over the bees and butterflies, nor do their poisons vanish when the insects that have ingested them are eaten by birds.

Her detailed descriptions of the damage caused by chemical insecticides reached an audience that had become uneasy with the growing number of companies willing to ignore human safety in search of increasing profits. "Every human being is now subjected to contact with dangerous chemicals, from the moment of conception until death," she wrote, and that message resonated with many. Anti-war protests don't just want an end to violence—the goal is a safe and harmonious world, not one with no war but with constant illness.

The notion of Earth as a single place with limited resources, rather than an infinite font of everything humanity could ever need, has been growing throughout the past decade. In 1967, Buckminster Fuller said, "We are not going to be able to operate our Spaceship Earth successfully nor for much longer unless we see it as a whole spaceship and our fate as common." And in 1968, NASA's Apollo 8 took a picture that reminded us that space is huge and we are, in fact, very small:

Photo of the half-earth shown rising over the moon's surface; the earth is a small blue-and-white swirled disc.
NASA's "Earthrise," December 24, 1968, shows that the size of Earth is just a matter of perspective.

More recently, last year an oil spill near Santa Barbara dumped more than 3 million gallons of toxic sludge into the water. Union Oil's blow-out was caused by predictable circumstances: While there are regulations to prevent exactly this kind of event, Union Oil had requested, and received, a waiver from them. The standards require 300 feet of conductor casing (the main protective measure for drilling), and 870 feet of surface casing (a secondary protection for high-pressure zones), Well A-21 had only 238 feet of conductor casing, and no surface casing at all. On January 28, 1969, the limited protective measures failed, and the result was 10,000 dead seabirds, dolphins, seals, and sea lions, and a black and stinking coastline as the oil blowout spread throughout the area.

Senator Nelson was inspired to create Earth Day after seeing a photo of the 800-square-mile oil slick, and many of the people who helped with the cleanup were involved in the planning and activities for Earth Day.

All Over America

University of Michigan had a teach-in attended by thousands, and published an article, Ecological Living Calls for New Lifestyles.

Black-and-white photo of an unsmiling child holding a model globe that's larger than his torso, with buildings and trees covering the model earth.
Environmental Action for Survival Poster for U-M Teach-In

In New Jersey, a group of young teen girls headed off to their local shopping center to join the Earth Day festivities – but they'd misunderstood the location and found nobody there. So they decided to celebrate in their own way: They visited the stream that ran behind the shopping center—Goffle Brook—and worked to clean it up, hauling a shopping cart out of the water and picking up litter and garbage.

In larger cities, the turnout was huge. New York, an estimated 250,000 took to Fifth Avenue, carrying flowers and signs and often wearing masks. In San Francisco, Union Square was packed with crowds of 20,000 people at a time, with perhaps five times that many visiting over the course of the day.

People marching in the street; many are wearing masks. In the foreground are two young boys, smiles visible even though they are masked, holding flowers.
New York: Unlike many anti-war protests, people brought their families: The safety of the environment is not an adults-only topic.

CBS News even had a Special Report with Walter Cronkite about Earth Day, which you may have seen.

Aftermath and the Future

Over 12,000 events happened on Earth Day, all across the US, ranging from hundreds of thousands in big cities to a few hundred in smaller towns—to just a few friends deciding to put some of their time toward making a better world for the future.

People have long been concerned about companies dumping poisonous waste in their nearby streams and lakes, or factories pouring soot and worse into their skies, or the loss of wilderness to careless campers or community members turning unregulated spaces into garbage dumps. But Earth Day serves as an announcement that these are all one topic, not several; that there is no such thing as a "local environment." We live on one planet, and all its ecosystems are connected.

Let's hope this day is remembered well, and that the teaching and learning continues until we can all live on a planet that is "healthy for children and other living things."



[New to the Journey?  Read this for a brief introduction!]


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[April 22, 1970] “Houston, We’ve had a Problem Here!” (Apollo-13 emergency in space)

[New to the Journey?  Read this for a brief introduction!]

A black-and-white photo portrait of Kaye Dee. She is a white woman with long, straight dark hair worn down, looking at the camera with a smile.
by Kaye Dee

Philatelic envelope with coloured line drawings relating to the Apollo-13 space mission.

We all breathed a sigh of relief when the astronauts of Apollo-13 returned to Earth safely a few days ago, after the Apollo programmes’ first (and hopefully last) inflight emergency, but superstitious people are claiming that Apollo-13 was unlucky because of a prevalence of “13s”! After all, the mission was launched at 13:13 Houston time (but somewhere in the world there will always be a place where the time is 13: something!) and the explosion that caused its inflight emergency occurred on 13 April (but only in certain timezones – it was already 14 April in Australia and most of the world east of the United States).

Don’t tell me the Apollo-13 crew were “unlucky”; in fact, they were immensely lucky that when something did go wrong they were a team with the right skills for the situation. As seasoned test pilots, the crew were experienced at working in critical situations with their lives on the line, and their professional skills as astronauts were matched by the “tough and competent” (to quote Flight Director Mr. Gene Kranz) Mission Control teams, backed by highly trained engineers and scientists – all determined to “return them safely to the Earth”, just as President Kennedy committed NASA to do when he set the goal of a manned lunar landing by 1970!

Diagram timeline of major mission events during Apollo-13Timeline of major mission events during Apollo-13

Crew Switcheroo
The prime crew for Apollo-13 changed multiple times, the last alteration occurring just days before launch! Instead of rotating the Apollo-10 back-up crew to become the prime crew for Apollo-13 – the normal procedure – Director of Flight Crew Operations, Mr. Deke Slayton, designated astronauts Alan Shepard (Commander), Stuart Roosa (Command Module Pilot) and Edgar Mitchell (Lunar Module Pilot) as the Apollo-13 prime crew. However, although he was the first American in space, Captain Shepard had only recently returned to flight status after a lengthy medical issue. It was felt that he needed more training time, so in August 1969, his crew was swapped with the prime crew for Apollo-14.

The prime crew for Apollo 13 then became US Navy Captain James Lovell, as Commander, civilian Mr. Fred Haise as Lunar Module Pilot (LMP) and USAF Lt. Col. Ken Mattingly as Command Module Pilot (CMP).

Official crew portrait for the original Apollo-13 crew: Lovell, Mattingly and HaiseOfficial crew portrait for Apollo-13. L.-R. Jim Lovell, Ken Mattingly and Fred Haise. They are shown with ancient scientific and navigation instruments hinting at the classical elements in the mission patch and callsigns

Unfortunately, just a week before launch back-up LMP Charles Duke contracted German measles (rubella) from a child and accidentally exposed both the prime and back-up crews to the disease. CMP Mattingly was found to have no immunity, and the astronauts’ medical team had serious concerns that he could become too sick to perform adequately during the flight if he began to experience symptoms of the disease.

Normally, NASA policy would dictate that the back-up crew step into the mission. However, since back-up LMP Duke also had the measles, this wasn’t feasible. Just three days before launch, the difficult decision was made to replace Lt. Col. Mattingly with Mr. Jack Swigert, the fortunately-immune back-up CMP. This made the final crew for Apollo-13 Lovell, Haise and Swigert. Astronaut Mattingly will be re-assigned to a later Apollo mission, probably Apollo 16.

Official portrait of the final Apollo-13 crew: Lovell, Swigert and Haise, wearing civilian suits.The last minute Apollo-13 crew portrait, following the swap of Ken Mattingly to Jack Swigert

Who’s Who?
Although he announced his intention to retire from NASA prior to Apollo-13, 42-year-old Mission Commander James “Jim” Lovell is the world's most experienced astronaut, the record holder for the most time in space, with 572 hours aboard Gemini-7, Gemini-12 and Apollo-8!

Members of the fifth astronaut group, selected in 1966, Captain Lovell’s crewmates may have both been space rookies, but fortuitously they each had specialisations that provided vital knowledge and experience during the in-flight emergency.

Mr. Fred Haise, the Lunar Module pilot (LMP), is a 36-year-old aeronautical engineer, who was both a Marine Corps and Air National Guard fighter pilot. A civilian research pilot for NASA before his selection as an astronaut, Mr. Haise previously served as back-up LMP for Apollo-8 and 11. He is a specialist on the Lunar Module (LM), having spent fourteen months at the Grumman factory where the spacecraft are built.

Mr. John “Jack” Swigert, the Command Module Pilot (CMP), is 38 years old, with degrees in mechanical engineering and aerospace science. He has served in the US Air Force and in state Air National Guards and was an engineering test pilot immediately prior to his astronaut selection. A specialist in malfunctions of the Command and Lunar Modules, Mr. Swigert “practically wrote the book on spacecraft malfunctions.”
Apollo-13 mission patch
Knowledge from the Moon
It’s probably fortunate that, like Apollo-11, Captain Lovell’s original crew made the decision that the Apollo-13 mission patch would not carry their names: when the last minute crew swap occurred, no changes were required to the design. Instead of names, the Apollo-13 patch carries the motto “Ex Luna, Scientia”, Latin for “From the Moon, knowledge”. This references Apollo-13’s intended role as the second ‘H’-class mission, designed to demonstrate precision landing capability so that the crew could explore a specific site on the Moon. As a Navy officer, Captain Lovell derived the motto from that of the US Naval Academy, “Ex scientia, tridens ("From knowledge, sea power").

A powerful image of the Sun rising behind the horses of the god Apollo’s chariot forms the centrepiece of the design. As Apollo is the god of both the Sun and knowledge, this plays upon both the project name and the mission motto. Against the black background of space, the golden horses of Apollo prance over the Moon, their journey from the Earth (in the background) to the Moon depicted by a bright blue path. Artist Lumen Martin Winter, designer of the Apollo-13 mission patch, based the horses on a mural he previously painted for the St. Regis Hotel in New York City (below). Using Roman numerals for the mission number also complements the classical connections of the spacecraft names and callsigns.

Art mural showing wild horses in a dramatic setting

Classical Callsigns
Captain Lovell drew upon classical mythology in selecting the Command Module callsign “Odyssey” – taken from Homer’s epic Greek poem.  Since an “odyssey is “a long voyage with many changes of fortune”, it turned out to be an extremely appropriate choice indeed! The name was also a nod to the classic science fiction film "2001: a Space Odyssey".

For the Lunar Module, the crew selected the callsign “Aquarius”. Although the media have linked the callsign to the song in the musical “Hair”, it is actually meant to reference Aquarius, the cup-bearer of the Graeco-Roman gods, and bringer of water – the only water on the Moon being that carried there by the Apollo crew.

Medieval illustration of the Aquarius, pouring water on the Earth from his jug.Medieval illustration of Aquarius watering the Earth

Preflight Preparations
Apollo-13’s launcher, AS-508, had some slight modifications compared to earlier Saturn-V vehicles, to prepare for the future J-class missions which will carry heavier payloads. New “spray-on insulation” was used for the liquid hydrogen propellent tanks in the S-II second stage. The rocket also carried additional fuel, as a test for future launches, making it the heaviest Saturn-V yet flown.

The intensive preparation for the Apollo-13 crew included over 1,000 hours of mission-specific training, with a much greater focus on geology, since the intended landing area in the hilly Fra Mauro formation (named for a 15th Century cartographer monk) is of significant geological interest. If rocks from this area could be dated, they might improve our understanding of the early geological history of both the Moon and the Earth. Scientist-astronaut Harrison Schmitt, himself a geologist, was heavily involved in the crew’s geological training.

Apollo-13 astronauts Lovell and Haise during geology trainingJim Lovell and Fred Haise during geology training in Hawaii

Due to the difficulty of distinguishing astronauts Armstrong and Aldrin from each other in Apollo-11 photographs, NASA introducec a means of differentiating crew members from each other on the Moon by adding red stripes on the helmet, arms and legs of the commander's spacesuit. This system will now be implemented on Apollo-14.

Experiments That Might Have Been
A major component of Apollo-13’s lunar surface activities would have been the installation of a new Apollo Lunar Surface Experiment Package (ALSEP), powered by a SNAP-27 radioisotope thermoelectric generator (RTG). This small nuclear generator contains 8.36lb of plutonium oxide. The fuel capsule is intended to withstand the heat of re-entry into the Earth's atmosphere in the event of an aborted mission, which means that Apollo-13’s RTG may have survived Aquarius’ re-entry on return to Earth, splashing down into a remote area of the southern Pacific Ocean.

Astronaut bending over as he practices deploying scientific instruments on the MoonMission Commander Lovell practicing the deployment of an ALSEP instrument during training

Like Apollo-11 and 12, Apollo-13’s ALSEP included a seismometer (the Passive Seismic Experiment), which was to be calibrated by the impact of Aquarius’ ascent stage, a Lunar Atmosphere Detector (LAD) and a Dust Detector. New to the Apollo-13 instrument package was a Heat Flow Experiment (HFE), and a Charged Particle Lunar Environment Experiment (CPLEE), designed to measure solar protons and electrons reaching the Moon.

A Shakey Start
Originally scheduled for launch in March, Apollo-13 was delayed for a month while NASA re-considers how it will schedule the remaining Apollo missions out to Apollo-19, now that Apollo-20 has been axed due to President Nixon’s budget cuts.


The mission hit trouble right at the start: five and a half minutes after liftoff on Saturday 11 April (US time). The crew felt “a little vibration”, then the centre engine of the S-II stage shut down two minutes early. This required the remaining four engines to burn and additional 34 seconds longer, while the S-IVB third stage had to burn 9 seconds longer to put the spacecraft into orbit. But with the extra fuel on board for this flight, the engine failure fortunately didn’t cause any major problem.

A successful trans lunar injection burn placed Apollo-13 on course for the Moon, with the CSM and LM docking occurring 20 minutes’ later. Unlike previous lunar missions, after the LM was extracted from the S-IVB stage, the stage was not sent off into solar orbit, but targetted to impact the Moon so the vibrations could be detected by the Apollo-12 seismometer. This would later cause unexpected communications complications after the accident occurred.

Apollo-13's S-IVB stage heading towards the Moon

“We’re Bored to Tears”
With the spacecraft safely on its way to the Moon, the first phase of the flight was uneventful. Approaching 31 hours into the flight, the crew performed a burn to place Apollo 13 on a hybrid trajectory, enabling Aquarius to ultimately land at the Fra Mauro site. This change from the free-return trajectory used on earlier missions would cause later complications for returning the astronauts to Earth: on a free-return trajectory, no further engine burns were necessary to ultimately bring the spacecraft home, but a hybrid trajectory would miss Earth on its return leg, unless further burns were performed.

Apollo-13 Flight Director Gene Kranz doing paperworkApollo-13 White Team Flight Director Mr. Gene Kranz catching up on his paperwork in Mission Control during the calm before the storm

The day after launch, Mr. Swigert became worried by the realisation that, in the rush to replace Ken Mattingly, he had forgotten to file his Income Tax Return, and needed to apply for an extension! Fortunately for him, an amused Mission Control advised that “American citizens out of the country get a 60-day extension on filing; assume this applies to you.”

With Apollo-13’s telemetry showing that the spacecraft was “in real good shape”, on 13 April Capcom Joe Kerwin told the crew “We are bored to tears down here.”—a situation that was soon to change.

The Last Apollo-13 Show
Astronauts Lovell and Haise entered the LM to test its systems about an hour before a major television broadcast, scheduled for 55 hours into the mission.

With Commander Lovell acting as MC, the astronauts put on a lively show, exhibiting some of their gear such as space helmets, sleeping hammocks and newly-designed bags for drinking water inside their spacesuits. From Odyssey, Captain Lovell played tinkly lounge music using a small tape recorder, and he said it was an awesome thing to see the Moon accompanied by the theme to 2001.

View of NASA Mission Control with broadcast from space on large screenMission Control during the Apollo-13 broadcast. Astronaut Fred Haise can be seen on the big screen

Disappointingly, American television viewers had become, it seems, even more bored than Mission Control with now-“routine” missions to the Moon. None of the major US networks carried the broadcasts, although they were seen in Australia and, I believe, other countries. Marilyn Lovell and Mary Haise had to go to the Mission Control VIP viewing room to see their husbands’ half hour broadcast on television.

“Houston, We’ve had a Problem Here!”
Just nine minutes after the conclusion of the television broadcast, at 205,000 miles from Earth, an incident occurred that turned Apollo-13 from a routine mission into an emergency situation: one that the media and anxious communities in the US and around the world would intently follow as soon as the news broke!

At the request of Mission Control, Mr. Swigert stirred the cryogenic hydrogen and oxygen tanks that powered the fuel cells in the Service Module (SM). This action was followed by a “pretty large bang”, felt as a jolt through the spacecraft, accompanied by fluctuations in electrical power, attitude control thrusters firing automatically and a brief loss of communications and telemetry to Earth.

Diagram of the Apollo Service Module showing location of fuel cells and oxygen tanksDiagram of the Service Module showing the location of the fuel cells and oxygen tanks that must have been damaged by the explosion, based on the available telemtry

CMP Swigert quickly reported "Okay, Houston, we've had a problem here," confirmed moments later by the Mission Commander, "Houston, we've had a problem. We've had a Main B Bus undervolt”. This meant that the SM’s three fuel cells were not providing sufficient voltage to the second of the Service Module’s two electrical power distribution systems

Captain Lovell momentarily thought that LMP Haise had activated Aquarius’ cabin-repressurisation valve (which Haise could have done as a joke, since its bang would startle his crewmates); CMP Swigert initially thought that a meteoroid might have struck the LM, though there was no atmospheric leakage. But voltage was dropping in both electrical buses, one oxygen tank was empty, and the other leaking, and two of the three fuel cells were failing!

Newspaper front page with headline Moonship Leaks GasHeadline from Australian newspaper "The Sun" just a few hours after the accident. It references Lovell's description of gas venting from the Service Module

Looking out Odyssey’s hatch window, seeking a cause for the spacecraft thrusters to be firing erratically and affecting their course to the Moon, Captain Lovell saw “gas of some sort” venting into space. Some kind of physical rupture had definitely occurred: whatever had caused the problem, the situation was serious.

Mission Control Swings into Action
Although the Flight Controllers in Houston initially assumed that their bizarre anomalous readings from Apollo-13 had to be the result of instrumentation issues, it quickly became obvious, judging from the reports from the crew, that they were dealing with a genuine emergency. 

The Mission Control White Team, led by Flight Director Gene Kranz, was on duty when the incident occurred and had to deal with the initial hours afterwards. With extensive Flight Director experience going back to the Mercury programme, and including critical phases of the Apollo-11 mission, Mr. Kranz played a crucial role in the rescue of the Apollo-13 crew.

NASA Flight Controllers in Mission Control during Apollo-13Flight Director Gene Kranz (seated) and senior Flight Controllers during the tense period following the Apollo-13 accident

With telemetry data providing some insight into the condition of the spacecraft, and support from “backroom” teams of technical specialists, White Team worked to diagnose the problems and prioritise recovery and rescue actions. 

The fuel cells needed oxygen to operate, but it was rapidly leaking away. Attempting to stem the leak, they shut down the two failing fuel cells. This immediately meant the loss of the lunar landing, as mission rules prohibited going into orbit around the Moon unless all three fuel cells were functioning. With oxygen still being lost, Mr. Kranz ordered the isolation of a small oxygen supply within the Odyssey, to retain it for use with the last remaining fuel cell, which would be needed for the final hours of the mission. The CM's batteries would be needed to power the craft during re-entry, so they were also shut down to conserve power.

Lifeboat Aquarius
Ninety-three minutes after the accident, oxygen pressure in the Command Module was dropping and Mission Control determined that the last fuel cell would soon fail as oxygen ran out, leaving the CM effectively dead. Aware of training simulations that had used the LM as a “lifeboat”, Mission Control ordered the crew to transfer to Aquarius.

Lovell, Haise and Swigert had themselves already realised that Aquarius would be needed as a lifeboat, and had commenced to power-up the Lunar Module, transferring necessary information to the LM’s guidance system. They bagged up as much water as possible from Odyssey’s supply (needed for equipment cooling as well as drinking), storing the water and food supplies in Aquarius.

View of Apollo-13 Lunar Module Aquarius floating in space The Apollo-13 crew's only view of their lifeboat Aquarius in space, drifting after it was cast loose shortly before re-entry

It was going to be a tight fit for three astronauts in a spacecraft meant for two, but the crew were fortunate that the emergency occurred when they had a fully-powered and supplied Lunar Module attached to the Odyssey. Had the explosion occurred after the lunar landing, with Aquarius jettisoned, the CM would not be able to provide enough life support to keep the astronauts alive until they returned to Earth.

Apollo-13 was being surrounded by a cloud of debris from the explosion. Communications were weak and erratic, due to probable antenna damage from debris, as well as interference from the S-IVB stage also on its way to the Moon. Its tracking beacon was operating on the same frequency as the Lunar Module, as it had not been anticipated that the LM and S-IVB stage would be communicating at the same time. (I’ll cover this situation in more detail in an article in May).

A gathering of Flight Controllers during Apollo-13Flight Controllers conferring on how best to bring Apollo-13 safely home. Note the lack of data usually present on the big screens

“Returning Them Safely to the Earth”
Apollo-13’s new mission goal became the safe return of the crew to the Earth. Vital consumables (oxygen, electricity, and water) were assessed and rationing plans devised. Calculating the best way to get the spacecraft back to Earth before supplies were exhausted became a priority, with the mindset that “failure is not an option”.

Ultimately, the safest course of action was deemed to be putting Apollo-13 back on a free-return trajectory, firing the LM’s descent engine so that the spaceship would loop around the Moon and head back to Earth. Using the large Service Module engine was ruled out, since it was uncertain if it had been damaged by the explosion.

NASA’s “Return to Earth” trajectory specialist, Miss Poppy Northcutt, calculated a new course to carry Apollo-13 around the Moon and safely home. Anxious to assist in any way they could, other astronauts arrived at Mission Control, including Lt. Col. Mattingly, who still had not developed German measles! Some would spend time in the Apollo simulators, helping to work up needed procedures, such as powering up the Command Module for re-entry with limited electricity available.

A large number of men in NASA Mission Control, gathered around monitoring consolesNASA Contollers and astronauts gathered in Mission Control to assist the rescue of Apollo-13. Seated, left to right, Guidance Officer Raymond F. Teague; astronaut Edgar D. Mitchell, Apollo 14 prime crew lunar module pilot; and astronaut Alan B. Shepard Jr., Apollo 14 prime crew commander. Standing, left to right, are scientist-astronaut Anthony W. England; astronaut Joe H. Engle, Apollo 14 backup crew lunar module pilot; astronaut Eugene A. Cernan, Apollo 14 backup crew commander; astronaut Ronald E. Evans, Apollo 14 backup crew command module pilot; and M.P. Frank, a flight controller

Sixty one and a half hours after launch, Aquarius’ descent engine burn put Apollo-13 back on a free return trajectory. As it looped around the Moon, Apollo-13 captured the Guinness World Record for the farthest distance from Earth attained by a crewed spacecraft – 248,655 miles.

View of the Moon's surface from Apollo-13The Moon's far side photographed by the Apollo-13 crew. The shut down CM Odyssey can also be seen in the foreground of this view from Aquarius

I’m sure you recall the tension during those 25 minutes of radio blackout when Apollo-13 was behind the Moon. People around the world tuned into television and radio, or gathered in public spaces, eager for news, now engrossed in the gripping drama being played out in space. Would the astronauts survive? Religious leaders led congregations in prayer for their safe return. 

On Their Way Home
Mission Control determined that a burn following trans-Earth injection would shave 12 hours off the flight time back to Earth and land Apollo-13 in the Pacific, where the main US recovery fleet was located. Thirteen nations (another number 13!), including the USSR, offered to provide rescue ships or aircraft for emergency recovery, should the spacecraft come down off course in the Pacific, Indian or Atlantic Oceans.

When this crucial burn took place, the debris cloud surrounding the spacecraft made it impossible to use stellar navigation to check the accuracy of the firing. However, the crew were able to use the positions of the Sun and Moon to confirm that the trajectory was on target. They were going home!

Philatelic envelope for the Apollo-13 mission, with text and illustrations

The astronauts then shut down most LM systems to conserve consumables, making for a miserable return flight: in Aquarius it was extremely cold (38 °F), dark and damp, with moisture condensing out on every surface, including the windows. The same issue occurred in Odyssey, raising concerns of short-circuits occurring when it was powered back up. Fortunately, lessons learned from the Apollo-1 fire prevented that from happening.

Astronaut sleeping in Apollo-13Mission Commander Lovell tries to sleep in the extreme cold and semi-darkness of the Lunar Module

The crew slept poorly, eating and drinking little (cold frankfurters and water for dinner, anyone?). They lost weight, with Mr. Haise developing a urinary tract infection, apparently from dehydration.

Putting a Square Peg in a Round Hole
A new problem arose during the return journey – with three astronauts in the LM, dangerous levels of carbon dioxide were building up in Aquarius. They were running out of lithium hydroxide canisters, designed to scrub it from the air, and the square canisters used in Odyssey were not compatible with the round openings in Aquarius!

An astronaut assembling a device in Apollo-13Jack Swigert, with assistance from Jim Lovell (just out of frame) assembles the connections for the makeshift CO2 scrubbing device nicknamed "the mailbox", which is box shaped object beside Swigert

NASA engineers fortunately found a way to fit “a square peg in a round hole,” using only items available on the spacecraft. After the instructions for building the device were radioed up, Swigert and Haise constructed it and carbon dioxide levels began dropping immediately.

The Final Leg
Apollo-13 showed a tendency to drift slowly off course, and two more mid-course correction burns were needed to keep the spacecraft within the safe re-entry flight path. Just after 138 hours into the mission, the crew jettisoned the SM from the command module, allowing the astronauts to see and photograph the explosion area for the first time. They were shocked by the extent of the damage they saw and concerned that the explosion might have damaged the heatshield. 

View of the damaged Apollo-13 Service Module, floating in spaceThe astronauts' only view of the Service Module, showing the extent of the damage caused by the explosion, which blew out an entire side panel.

Moving back into Odyssey, the astronauts then reactivated its life support systems, while retaining Aquarius until about 70 minutes before entry. With no heatshield of its own, the LM could not safely re-enter, but as it drifted away, watched sadly by the crew, Capcom Kerwin offered an epitaph from Mission Control: “Farewell Aquarius, and we thank you”.

Colour picture of the Earth taken from deep space. The continent of North America can be clearly seen There's no place like home! Earth taken from Apollo-13 in the final stages of its return from the Moon

Home at Last!
At last, on April 17 (US time),142 hours after launch, Apollo-13 re-entered Earth’s atmosphere. Its shallow re-entry path lengthened the usual four-minute radio communications blackout to six minutes, causing Mission Control to briefly fear that the CM's heat shield had failed. But Odyssey had survived and splashed down safely in the South Pacific Ocean south-east of American Samoa, just four miles from the recovery ship, USS Iwo Jima: total flight time: 5 days, 22 hours, 54 minutes and 41 seconds. Mission Control erupted in cheers!

People celebrating in Mission Control during Apollo-13

While the world rejoiced at their safe return, the exhausted Apollo-13 crew stayed overnight on the recovery ship, without undergoing quarantine since they did not land on the Moon.

Black and white image of three Apollo-13 astronauts on the aircraft carrier USS Iwo Jima. One is facing the camera wavingExhausted but elated, the Apollo-13 crew are formally welcomed aboard the recovery ship, USS Iwo Jima as returning heroes after their space ordeal

The astronauts flew to Pago Pago in American Samoa the next day, then on to Hawaii, where they were re-united with their wives and President Nixon awarded them the Presidential Medal of Freedom, the highest US civilian honour. The Presidential Medal of Freedom was also awarded to the Apollo-13 Mission Operations Team, for their efforts in ensuring the safe return of the Apollo-13 crew. After staying overnight in Hawaii, Capt. Lovell, Mr. Haise and Mr. Swigert have now returned to Houston to be re-united with their families.

Three astronauts wearing medals standing with US President NixonReturning heroes after their space ordeal. the Apollo-13 crew stand proudly with President Nixon after being awarded the Presidential Medal of Freedom

At present, the cause of the explosion that crippled Apollo-13 is unknown, so I will leave the speculation until my follow-up article in May, talking more about Apollo-13’s epic journey. I’d like to end here with the words of President Nixon, during the Presidential Medal of Freedom presentation: “You did not reach the Moon, but you reached the hearts of millions of people on Earth by what you did.”

Apollo-13 astronaut Jim Lovell, looking at newspaper headline about the astronauts' safe returnThe astronauts only learned about the extent of the pubic reaction to their emergency after they returned to Earth!



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[April 20, 1970] Not the final quarry (May 1970 Fantasy and Science Fiction)

photo of a man with glasses and curly, long, brown hair, and a beard and mustache
by Gideon Marcus

Tunnel light

There have been a lot of happy endings recently.  The postal strike is over, thanks to the government agreeing to an 8% raise for federal employees.  Ditto the air traffic control strike.  Nixon's third nominee to fill the vacant seat on the Supreme Court, 8th Circuit Court of Appeals Justice Harry Blackmun, isn't somewhere to the right of Ghengis Khan.  The Apollo 13 astronauts made it back home by the skin of their teeth.

Newspaper photo of Harry Blackmun

But of course, the old stories go on.  The Vietnam war has grown to include Cambodia—if Domino Theory is to be believed, we'll soon be fighting in the streets of Canberra.  Teachers are on strike in California; Governor Reagan says they're "against the children".  And actor Michael Strong says you can't walk the streets of the nation's capital without a good chance of getting mugged.

And so, it is appropriate that the latest issue of The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction is a mixed bag.  Some of it will thrill you, some of it will leave you cold.  On the other hand, none of it will mug you.

The Issue at Hand

A robot sits on a nighttime apocalyptic desert reading a trail of issues of Fantasy and Science Fiction
by Mel Hunter

The Final Quarry, by Eric Norden

Two Englishmen are on the hunt in the backwoods of Thessaly.  One is a corpulent and uncouth Lord, looking to bag the last unicorn.  The other is his guide looking to bag the Lord and take the half million drachmas the noble carries on his person.  Gradually, we learn the exact year of this expedition (a little over half a century ago).  The timing is signicant.

An interesting story that intertwines unicorns with Christian theology and ties their extinction with the death of good things in the world.  The Book of Revelations…with hooves and horns.  It's all very visceral and sensory, with full descriptions of each meal, and with doom dogging every footstep.  A singularly F&SF sort of tale.

Four stars.

Scientist comes out of lab with sign reading 'the end is nigh'—associate says 'I don't like the looks of this!'
by Gahan Wilson

Books, by Barry Malzberg

The F&SF reviewer roulette ball has landed on Barry this month.  He laments that the SF writing community is small enough that one hates to disparage one's peers lest they end up crossing paths on some other project.  This does not keep Malzberg from condeming Moorcock's The Black Corridor ("It is really not at all good…[but] I remain convinced that someday Moorcock will write a subtantial novel, fully worthy of his pretensions and our expectations), Zelazny's Damnation Alley ("The flaw of the novella was that it had no characterological interior or true sense of pace; and instead of concentrating his novelization on those areas whih might have done some good (like ironic counterpoint), Zelazny has simply souped up and extended the action; and, if I don't miss my guess, he has put in a wee bit of sex."), and Orbit 5 ("…not so terribly happy with, and I am not sure why this is so.")

He also was disappointed with the SFWA's latest compilation, Nebula Award Stories Four ("These are good stories, but even the writers, I think, would attest to the fact that better work was published in 1968, if not by others, then by themselves.")

Better luck next time, Barry!

Runesmith, by Harlan Ellison and Theodore Sturgeon

If you combine Ellison and Sturgeon and then dedicate the story to Cordwainer Smith, you're setting yourself up for some high scrutiny!  Luckily, this tale (more or less) survives the heightened expectations.

The story's antihero is also named Smith, though perhaps his name is symbolic, for through a knowledge of the occult arts, he has wrought the near destruction of all of humanity.  Unknowingly cultivated and spurred on by the evil ones who lie just beyond the veil of sense, Smith has reduced virtually every city, slaughtered every person, all by casting knuckle bones from a bag and reading their divination.

Now, with guilt gnawing at him, and with the last few survivors aiming to gnaw on him, the true instigators of this hell-on-Earth lick their chops and prepare to return the world they once called theirs.

The problem with this (beautifully told) story is that it has a happy ending.  Now, I like happy endings (viz. the first paragraph of this article) but this tale doesn't really earn its.  It just decides to lurch in a positive direction with no setup, derailing a consistent tone and the macabre satisfaction at seeing just how destructive evil can be.  The conclusion comes off as twee and affected.

Three stars.

Voices Answering Back: The Vampires, by Lawrence Raab

The last couple of lines are the best part of this overlong proem.  Two stars.

The Fourth Tense of Time, by Albert Teichner

An old zillionaire has made his fortune through a talent for close-term prognostication.  He can see just a few hours into the future, which is enough for horse racing and the stock market.  But it comes at a cost: terrible migraine headaches.

When a scientist learns of the zillionaire's talents, he labors to identify the source, in the process, lengthening the rich fellow's future range.

But what happens when one's ability to foretell what's to come crosses over the barrier between life and death?

There's a lot of promise to this story, but there's also a bit of repetitious belaboring, and the conclusion's tea is somewhat weak.  Three stars.

The Fabulous Bartender, by Paul Darcy Boles

The Greek God Bacchus takes a short-term gig as a bartender.  Everyone has a good time.

That's all there is to this affable but longwinded story.  I guess the challenge to the reader is to see how long it takes him to figure out who's serving the drinks.

Two stars.

Nobody Believes an Indian, by G. C. Edmondson

We once again go South of the Border for a flip, steeped-in-Mexican-culture tale of Edmonsdon's "mad friend".  This time around, the narrator and his pal are guests of one of Pancho Villa's generales de dedo (brevet generals) who is rumored to be a pot grower, the kind subject to occasional field burnings to satisfy the Yankees up North.

Turns out that the indio general has got something significantly more harmful than marijuana between his rows.

Fun, frivolous, and more travelogue than tale, it passes the pages pleasantly.  Three stars.

Playing the Game, by Isaac Asimov

Magazine graphic that precedes the science article

The Good Doctor explains the Doppler effect and its application not only to sound waves but to light waves.  Nothing new for me, but it's a very cogent detailing of a fundamental astronomical principle.

Five stars.

Murder Will In, by Frank Herbert

Once again, we have a piece sprouting from the death of Douglas Bailey.  The opening passage is always the same—Bailey is euthanized.  But what comes after that is up to the commissioned author.

In this case, we find that Bailey has been inhabited for most of his life by a pair of thought beings: the Tegas, which seeks out those with inclination to murder as the easiest prey, and the Bacit, which seems to be superego to the Tegas ego (and id?)

The problem is, Bailey was euthanized in a future in which the greatest human technology is that of control.  There are precious few suitable hosts for the Tegas/Bacit to jump to in this mechanized, soulless age.  And when he does manage to escape the dying Bailey, the Tegas learns that humanity is onto him, killing his hosts to find the alien presence.  The alien presence finds himself at the mercy of an interrogator without emotion, only a driving motive.

But perhaps even the most passionless interrogator betrays a passion after all, one that makes him vulnerable to Tegas control…

I give this one marks for creativity, but it is told with the typical Herbert over-the-top quality.  Frank is rarely one for subtlety.  I'd half expected it to turn out that there were multiple Tegases on Earth, and they'd all sought refuge in the last human with emotion, but that turned out not to be the case.

Instead, we get a lot of vivid, emotionally charged passages; some innovative alien perspectives; but nothing particularly exciting.

Three stars.

Summing up

The star-o-meter puts this issue on the positive side of things, and that feels right.  Gone are heady days of the 1950s when Boucher was the editor, but things seemed to have stabilized for F&SF into something consistent and unique.  It's not so much The New Thing now—more of an aping of an old style by folks who don't quite remember the dance moves.  Still, it's good enough for the nonce.

And that's some kind of hope.

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[April 18th, 1970] The Spaceman Who Came In From The Cold (Doctor Who: The Ambassadors Of Death [Parts 1-4])

a white woman with auburn hair and glasses
By Jessica Holmes

The name’s Who… Doctor Who. In the latest adventure, our favourite double-hearted space alien finds himself embroiled in a spy thriller with all the trappings: cool car, wacky gadgetry, and an espionage plot I need a diagram to keep track of. Let’s take a peek under the bonnet of David Whitaker’s most recent contribution to Doctor Who, “The Ambassadors Of Death”.

The space centre. Cornish communicates with an astronaut, who appears on a big screen.

In Case You Missed It

Grab your notepads, this is going to get a little complicated.

Let’s start with the basics: Seven months before the start of the story, ground control for a Mars mission lost contact with their astronauts and gave them up for dead. Now their craft is on the way home but the occupants still haven’t contacted Earth. Moments after docking with the Mars capsule, the rescue capsule goes silent, too. Shortly afterwards, mysterious signals start beaming out from the paired capsules. Enter UNIT and the Brigadier, who had been supervising the rescue mission. Hopefully they won’t blow anybody up this time.

Seeing news coverage of the mission on television, the Doctor invites himself over to the space centre and starts telling anyone who will listen (and anyone who won’t, in increasingly loud and tetchy tones) that the signal from the spacecraft was an attempt at communication. With the Brig vouching for him, the Doctor immediately starts work on trying to decode it. Someone has beaten him to the punch, however, and transmitted a reply. UNIT are able to trace the source back to an abandoned warehouse in London, but the signallers flee before they get there, and a firefight ensues.

A man fires a pistol from behind a flight of stairs.

The Doctor, meanwhile, finds his attempts to decipher the signal stymied at every turn by the Mars mission’s chief scientist, Taltalian (Robert Cawdron), who sabotages the space centre’s computer before going AWOL. Don’t forget about him. He still has a part to play.

With still no communication from the occupants, the recovery capsule returns to Earth, but as UNIT transport it back to the space centre their convoy comes under attack. The Doctor is able to recover the capsule (in a way that’s absolutely hilarious and involves sticking the attackers’ hands to Bessie’s rear bumper and absconding with their stolen lorry), but in the brief time it's out of UNIT’s control, the astronauts disappear.

Cornish, the Brigadier and the Doctor peer into the empty space capsule.

Growing suspicious that there is someone within the space centre (other than Taltalian) spying on their progress and sabotaging them, the Doctor and the Brigadier attempt to raise the issue with the highest authority they can find, Sir James Quinlan (Dallas Cavell), Minister for Technology. Quinlan confirms their suspicions and introduces them to General Carrington (John Abineri, who previously appeared in “Fury From The Deep” as Van Lutyens), former astronaut and new head of Space Security. Carrington apologises for all the cloak and dagger, but it was for the astronauts’ own safety and that of the public.

He claims the signal was a coded warning from them, so he had Taltalian sabotage the Doctor’s efforts to decode it in order to avoid panic, and sent men to abduct the astronauts to keep them out of the public eye. According to Carrington, the astronauts came down with a nasty case of contagious self-sustaining space radiation and needed to be contained to avoid mass panic.

Carrington, Quinlan, the Doctor, the Brigadier, and Liz meet around a table.

I’m not the only one who finds his version of events a little difficult to believe. Even more suspicious now, the Doctor asks to examine the astronauts, but whoops! While Carrington was with him, someone abducted the astronauts. Again. Or rather, someone abducted the entities pretending to be the astronauts. Whatever’s wearing their spacesuits, they aren’t human. They’re absolutely buzzing with radiation—far more than any human could survive for more than a few minutes. It’s even dangerous to be around them, as two of their kidnappers find out to their detriment. Their leader, Reegan (William Dysart), leaves their radiation-poisoned bodies (with planted documentation to make them appear to be foreign agents) in a gravel quarry for UNIT to find.

Satisfied with his work, he delivers the mysterious spacemen to the care of his own pet scientist, Lennox (Cyril Shaps, previously seen in “Tomb Of The Cybermen" as John Viner), who was apparently disgraced for undisclosed reasons. Lennox doesn’t seem a bad sort, just in bad company.

Having finally figured out that the real astronauts must still be in orbit aboard the Mars probe (I had a few jokes lined up about this but in light of recent events they don’t seem quite as funny), the Doctor and the space centre's controller Cornish (Ronald Allen, previously seen as Rago in "The Dominators"), inform Quinlan that work on a rescue mission will commence immediately. This greatly disturbs Quinlan and Carrington, who for whatever reason are quite determined that no attempt should be made to get the astronauts back. The consequences could be disastrous. What do they know that we (and the Doctor) don’t?

The three astronauts lying side by side on their backs.

Lennox finds himself baffled by the mystery spacemen, who turn out to require radioactive isotopes to survive. Luckily for him, he’s about to have some help, as Reegan lures Liz out of the Space Centre and abducts her. He was hoping to get the Doctor, too, but he didn’t take the bait, staying behind to work on the recovery capsule.

There’s a car chase and everything. It’s jolly exciting, even if Bessie does look very silly in a high-speed chase—there’s just something inherently comical about her.

Lennox, already an unwilling accomplice to Reegan, tries to help Liz escape. She makes it as far as the main road, where she flags down a passing car, only to find Taltalian in the driver’s seat. See, I said he’d be back. He promptly delivers her back to Reegan.

The Doctor finishes deciphering the mysterious message, and finds that it’s a set of instructions on how to build a pair of electronic devices. To work out what it does, he’ll have to build it. What he doesn’t know is that Taltalian has built one part already, a receiver and sent another to Reegan, a transmitter.

Reegan, Liz, Lennox and another man watch the spacemen through a glass window.

Having failed to abduct the Doctor, Reegan goes to the next sensible option to get him out of the way: blowing him up. It doesn’t work, but the bomb does go off in Taltalian’s face, blowing him to smithereens and out of the story. Reegan then uses the transmitter Taltalian made to give the spacemen orders. They make for formidable living weapons: bulletproof, radioactive and lethal to anyone who comes into contact with them, as Quinlan soon learns.

Offering to finally tell the Doctor the whole truth, Quinlan invites him for a meeting to explain why he doesn’t want the astronauts rescued from orbit, but before the Doctor can get to him, the spaceman finds him first. The truth remains hidden—and the assassin is still in the room.

The Doctor examines Quinlan's supine body. There is a spaceman behind him.

Licence To Thrill

I think I’ve already compared the most recent Doctor to James Bond, but this serial is kicking things up a notch. This is legitimately a spy thriller. It’s got everything. Action. Intrigue. Absurd car gadgets. It’s even got a whiff of Le Carré in that I need some sort of diagram to keep track of the espionage antics. Okay, I’m exaggerating a little. There’s a lot of moving parts but it’s not hard to follow if you’re paying attention.

Speaking of car gadgets, I love Bessie. I just find her ridiculously charming, and charmingly ridiculous. It’s like James Bond driving around in Mr. Toad’s motorcar.

There is an aspect I do have some qualms about, however: the violence. I promise I’m not going to be a pearl-clutching killjoy fretting about the delicate sensibilities of children. I enjoyed the action scenes; I’d be lying if I said otherwise. It’s just that there were quite a lot of them and their number has definitely increased over the last few stories.

Which brings us to the Doctor’s relationship with the Brigadier. I can only assume that some time has passed between the end of Silurians (in multiple senses) and the start of ‘Ambassadors’, because the Doctor seems to be on decent enough terms with him now. A pity; I would really have liked to have seen the Doctor confront the Brigadier about his decision. As it stands now, he’s just a little frosty with him, but that’s not really unusual for Pertwee’s Doctor, who is a good deal more prickly than Troughton’s.

I suppose the question is not whether or not I am comfortable with Doctor Who’s more violent turn, but whether the Doctor is. And I don’t think he should be. Doctor Who is a constantly evolving show, and its titular character is a reflection of that. From ambiguously-human scientist to two-hearted space exile, there’s a core ethos to the Doctor that he should remain true to: it’s better to solve problems with wits and words than with bullets.

A closeup of a pistol in the Brigadier's hand.

Final Thoughts

Where does all this leave us? For all my hand-wringing about the violence, I’m honestly having a good time. I’m riveted by the mystery and the twists and turns, and every week eagerly tuning in to find out what happens next.

There’s so much I want to know. What’s become of the human astronauts? Who are the entities impersonating them, and what do they want? Where does Reegan fit into all this, what’s he hoping to achieve?

And most importantly: will we see a repeat of the slaughter of the Silurians?




[April 16, 1970] Junk Day for Ice Crowns (April 1970 Galactoscope)

Tune in tomorrow morning (April 17) for FULL APOLLO 13 SPLASHDOWN COVERAGE!!!


black and white photo of a dark-haired white woman with vampiric eyebrows
by Victoria Silverwolf

Six-Gun Planet, by John Jakes

The author is better known around these parts for his sword-and-sorcery yarns about Brak the Barbarian, firmly in the tradition of Robert E. Howard's tales of Conan. This new novel is a horse of a different color.

The cover of Six-Gun Planet.  The title is written in red block capitals across the top.  Beneath, the story summary reads: This is the story of the planet Missouri, whose revolutionary goals were to duplicate in the 23rd century the Terrafirman Old West, even if they had to use robot pintos for special effects.    Below the text, three images are superimposed over a background of psychedelic swirls in bright primary colors.  The first, at the top left, shows the planet Jupiter with its storm spot, encircled by a bright yellow aura.  In the center, a rope noose descends from the top of the image.  Inside the loop, an orange sunset sky surrounds a cowboy drawn in black and white in the foreground.  He is wearing a tall hat, gun belt, and cowboy boots.  His legs are bowed and his hands appear to be reaching for his gun as he stares malevolently at the viewer from under his hat brim.  In the background, two smaller cowboys, also black and white, appear far in the distance. On the right, three sandstone mountains in shades of yellow and orange appear to be blasting off into space supported by rockets shooting fire beneath them.
Cover art by Richard Powers

The planet Missouri had a revolution some time before the story begins. Advanced technology and a bureaucratic form of government were replaced by nineteenth century ways of doing things and fierce individualism.

In other words, the place now resembles Hollywood's fantasy of the Old West. There are some so-called savages who play the role of American Indians. Towns are full of outlaws and dance hall girls. There are sheriffs around, supposedly to maintain law and order, but they aren't very effective.

Our long-suffering hero is Zak Randolph, a minor government worker who ekes out a living by supplying souvenirs (such as miniature outhouses) to tourists and staging phony shootouts to entertain visitors from other worlds. He also arranges to have local badmen sent to more civilized planets to amuse those who hire them.

This latter function gets him in trouble. One of the leased gunfighters heads back to Missouri before his contract runs out. Zak has to track him down or risk losing his position. (What keeps him on the wild-and-wooly planet at all are his girlfriend and the presence of native plants that supply minerals that can be made into jewelry. Otherwise, he's a peaceable sort who hates the shoot-first-and-ask-questions-later culture of the place.)

Along the way, he has to deal with ruffians who despise him as a coward. There's also the mystery of a legendary gunfighter called Buffalo Yung. Zak isn't sure this terrifying figure really exists. Then he gets reports from various places that he's been shot dead, apparently more than once. And what does this have to do with the disappearing bodies of lawmen killed by Yung?

Jakes makes use of typical characters and situations from Westerns, often with tongue firmly in cheek. You've got the town drunk, the traveling merchant, the local undertaker, and so forth. It's no surprise that it ends with a showdown between Zak and Yung.

The author also has something serious to say about pacifism versus the law of the gun. Zak changes personality drastically over the course of the novel, and not in a nice way.

The plot moves along briskly, even if some of the events seem arbitrary. You'll probably be able to figure out Yung's secret pretty quickly. Fans of horse operas should be able to appreciate this space opera.

Three stars.


A photo portrait of Winona Menezes. She is a woman with light-brown skin, long black curly hair and dark eyes. She is smiling at the camera.
by Winona Menezes

Ice Crown, by Andre Norton

The book jacket for Ice Crown, by Andre Norton, shown unfolded so that both the back and front covers are visible.  The background is an abstract painting of intersecting lines and circles.  The shapes formed by these intersections are painted in different colors, all muted cool shades of green, blue, and purple with occasional soft golds.  The background extends from the back cover around to the front.  On the front, the middleground shows a man and a woman looking pensively off to the left. The man is wearing armor in shades of brown, painted in the same intersecting-line style as the background.  He wears a medieval-style helmet that extends down to his chin on the sides, with cheek guards but the rest of his face exposed.  He has a parted pencil mustache. His gauntleted hands are steepled in front of his chest.  The woman, standing slightly in front of him, appears to be wearing the titular ice crown, which is a white imperial-style closed crown with a cap above the coronet.  It has a star at the very top. She wears a purple cloth head covering under the crown and her body is enclosed by a long cloak, also painted linearly in shades of brown but with some purple and yellow accents.  In front of them is superimposed a smaller image of three soldiers fighting.  On the left, a white man with dark hair is wearing a white space suit with no helmet.  He is firing a blaster at the two men on the left, who are wearing tan medieval-style tunics and hoods, with hose and boots that lace up to the knee.  They are brandishing swords toward the first man.  The shot from the blaster extends past the first medieval man and over the head of the second man, who has fallen against the shield of the man behind him as if wounded.
Cover art by Lazlo Gal

Millennia ago, the human race's push for scientific and technological achievement culminated in a proud interstellar empire dominated by the Psychocrat regime. They settled human colonies on habitable planets and wiped completely all memory of their provenance for the purpose of observing the development of civilizations, but some unknown force toppled their hegemony before they could see their experiments come to fruition. The Psychocrats left behind primitive human colonies with no knowledge of their origins, and ancient artifacts that held knowledge of extraordinary technological achievements — invaluable bounty to the intrepid explorers who comb the galaxy in search of them.

Roane Hume has been selected by her uncle, one such explorer, to accompany him on an expedition to the planet Clio, where a seeded colony of humans has spread over thousands of years into several feudal kingdoms ruled by monarchs. Roane and her team are forbidden by interplanetary law to reveal themselves to the people of Clio, but Roane becomes swept up in the royal interests of the kingdom of Reveny when she intervenes to rescue a young girl being kidnapped, only to discover her to be the Princess Ludorica, heir to the throne. The princess is in a desperate search for the lost Ice Crown, a crown which supposedly holds mystical powers and is the only way to legitimize her rule, lest her kingdom fall to squabbling nobles and bandit lords. Despite Roane's oath to secrecy, she feels herself drawn to the Princess, and at every turn disregards her responsibility in order to help Ludorica restore her kingdom.

Norton continues to excel at intermingling elements of both sci-fi and high fantasy. The heady science fiction concepts introduced in the beginning — intergalactic treasure-hunters, technologically advanced weapons and survival gear, as well as a colony of brainwashed humans unwittingly transplanted onto another world in the service of a long-abandoned experiment — are vivid and imaginative. I especially enjoyed that the unfolding horror of a race realizing that their proud history and religion were the result of enslavement to technology indistinguishable from magic did not go understated.

But I also love an epic fantasy, and I do feel that Norton delivered with her courts and castles and enchanted crowns and a princess determined to save her people at any cost. The aesthetic of the story was reminiscent of a fairy-tale, with enough court intrigue and subterfuge to ensure that those fantasy elements did not feel hastily grafted onto a story about spaceships and astronauts, but rather that astronauts and spaceships had unintentionally landed in the middle of an epic. I would have thought that the magic of Clio turning out to be the lingering effects of a technology so advanced that it apparently did not even warrant explaining to the reader might disenchant the epic, but it had the opposite effect on me; high-tech science became enchanting in a way that very few hard sci-fi novels can achieve from meticulous technical explanation alone.

Lastly, the relationship between the two protagonists, Roane and Ludorica, was so unique to this sort of pulpy sci-fi that it can't go unmentioned. How sadly rare it is for an intelligent, resourceful, defiant leading duo to be two teenage girls. Their instant camaraderie was so strong that their duality, one an astronaut and one a princess, allowed each of them to step into the world of the other in a way that I feel contributed greatly to the seamless melding of the genres. It was a sweet moment for space-hardened Roane to know how it feels to wear a gown and have a lady-in-waiting, and after her endless ordeals Princess Ludorica absolutely deserved to get to shoot someone with a blaster.

Five stars out of five.


Recall Not Earth, by C.C. MacApp

 The front cover of Recall Not Earth.  The title is written in yellow block capitals with red drop shadows.  Above the title, the book summary reads: The last survivors of mankind - fighting annihilation in a war between the galaxies.  The text is superimposed on a black sky with a series of planets or moons extending into the distance.  Below the title, a red spacecraft  with many rods and circular attachments extending all around it sits on the surface of a planet, its lower half obscured by a cloud of dust.  A line of peaks appears in shadow behind it.  In front of the craft a group of people in white spacesuits with closed helmets is walking toward the viewer across a tan sandy expanse.
Cover art by Jerome Podwil

Recall Not Earth by C.C. MacApp was published in January, so I'm a little late to the party, but it intrigued me enough to want to include it this month. The people of Earth, in their hubris, decided to assert their interstellar superiority over the other races of their spiral arm in the Milky Way by picking an ill-advised fight with the Vulmoti Empire. Obviously, they lost.

The Vulmoti punished the earthlings by stamping out all life on Earth and leaving it an irradiated husk. The only living humans left were the cadre of spacemen led by Commodore John Brayson. But suddenly finding themselves the last survivors of their species, they scattered in despair across the galaxy to eke out a pathetic living as hired mercenaries for other alien races. Brayson himself retreated to the backwater planet Drongail to while away the rest of his life numbing himself with the highly addictive dron.

Brayson is coaxed out of his stupor and convinced to attempt one last mission when his old friend Bart Lange finds him to deliver news that seems too good to be true: that somewhere in the galaxy, a colony of living human women are in hiding. With this newfound glimmer of hope, Brayson and Lange reassemble their team and agree to hire themselves out to the leader of the Chelki, a race enslaved by the Vulmoti. The Omniarch of the Chelki promises Brayson knowledge of the location of the women in exchange for his help in the Chelki's struggle for freedom. Having nothing to lose, Brayson agrees to lead his men in battle one last time, all the while fighting the mind-addling effects of his drug addiction.

Going into this one I expected a sweeping space opera replete with different alien empires locked in battle for survival and dominance, and that's exactly what I got. Lots of spaceship dogfights, alien diplomacy, and pages upon pages of militaristic strategizing. I'll admit that last one is not my thing, but MacApp belabored the reasoning behind each maneuver and the minute differences between each imaginary weapons system so thoroughly that I have to commend the amount of thought that went into the details, even if it did make my head spin. Combine all that with the ever-present smaller human struggles like loneliness and addiction, and I think MacApp could have had enough material here to span a trilogy of novels.

The thing which most distinguished this book to me from others like it was the extent to which MacApp divorced himself entirely from the known laws of science, instead preferring to come up with laws of physics so profoundly unlike our own that I can only describe it as writing scientific fanfiction. Don't get me wrong, enough jargon and justification was given for his new laws of physics, such as the many pages dedicated to explaining how gravity is actually a force which repels matter, that in some places it felt as convincing as though I was reading a physics textbook dropped from some alternate dimension. I was fascinated by this brazen, meticulous rewriting of physics for little discernible reason. It’s a fun reminder to those of us who tend to get tangled up trying to understand how made-up technology fits into our understanding of science that it's not that serious, it's fiction and you can do whatever you want as much as you want to do it.

There were many parts of this book which did feel rushed, but that's unsurprising given how dense the story is and how much wonderful science nonsense we have to get through before the battles can commence and the damsels can be rescued. It was executed well, with almost no wasted space, and though all the militaristic babbling did hurt my brain a little, I'm going to give it…

Four stars.


A photo of Tonya R. Moore, a brown skinned woman with black hair, wearing a mondrian-styled dress in yellow, white, and black.
by Tonya R. Moore

Junk Day, by Arthur Sellings

The cover of Junk Day.  The word Junk is written in a bright blue psychedelic font with pale blue drop shadows.  The word Day is written smaller, in serifed capitals in the same shade of bright blue but no shadows.  The title is superimposed on a black and white image of the front window of a junk shop, where glass bottles, small statues, a baby doll, a trophy cup, and other objects are lined up haphazardly.
Cover art by Richard Weaver

Junk Day was my first encounter with the written works of Arthur Sellings. Published, thanks to the efforts of his widow, posthumously in 1970, following Sellings’ untimely death in 1968, there is some poignant irony in knowing the author’s final work portrays a world in ruins; the death of human civilization itself.

Junk Day begins with a man on a journey through the treacherous wilderness of post-apocalyptic London. At first, Douglas Bryan, a former painter, doesn’t seem to have a specific goal or destination in mind. He simply pushes forward, determined to defend himself from the grim realities of the violent hell-scape devoid of law, order, and morality the scorched earth has become.

When Bryan encounters a lone woman, the former nun-in-training, Vee, his initial reaction is suspicion. He cannot fathom that a woman could survive on her own following the collapse of human civilization, without a Man around to help her survive. Byran immediately shacks up with Vee. This relationship of convenience with Vee, who–it turns out– was formerly a man, leads to the pair setting off on a journey to find a more livable abode.

Homo-erotic tensions stir when Bryan brings Vee to his previous shelter where Eddie awaits the former painter’s return. While never said in so many words, one gets the distinct impression that Bryan’s relationship with the clingy , trauma-ridden younger man was more intimate than platonic. Though dismayed at having been replaced with Vee, Eddie swallows his anger, jealousy, and the last vestiges of his pride. He begs to join Bryan and Vee on their journey to find greener pastures. Bryan coldly rebuffs the desperate younger man, revealing the true callousness of his nature. Eddie gets left behind to spiral more deeply into murderous madness.

The protagonist, Douglas Bryan, is not likable. He is strangely dispassionate for a painter. Where are the high emotions, the romanticism, and thirst to pursue his craft? Where is his artistic passion, his sense of justice? He merely seems to go through the motions of being human and is far more concerned about the persona he is building up for himself than righteousness or caring about the fate of humanity.

The absence of growth in the main character is jarring. When Barney, a megalomaniac and dictator-in-the-making, attempts to engineer his own twisted version of society, Bryan pushes back, but his motivations seem more clinical than heroic. He refuses to bend to the machinations of the mysterious entities pulling the strings behind the scenes, but merely for the sake of being non-conformist. Junk Day ends with London gradually getting swallowed up by a new order, leaving the reader with more questions than answers. The ultimate fate of Douglas Bryan remains uncertain.

The faults in Bryan’s character may lead one to question Sellings’ skill in character development, but one can’t deny the possibility that this is deliberate. Douglas Bryan’s questionable character aside, Junk Day is a brilliantly written book; one I will happily revisit. Sellings was clearly a master of story craft. The images he painted of the dystopian remnants of civilization are vivid and arresting. It has made me quite eager to read his earlier works.

Five out of five stars.



[New to the Journey? Read this for a brief introduction!]


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[April 14, 1970] Take this spaceship to Alpha Centauri (May 1970 Venture)

Coverage of the Apollo 13 crisis continues!

TUNE IN!



by David Levinson

Skyjacked

Until recently, it seemed like there was at least one major airplane crash every month. That’s one of the reasons almost every airport has a place where you can buy short-term life insurance for your flight. But crashes seem to be giving way to a new risk: hijacking (or skyjacking as headlines writers would have it; the term will never stick). Last year alone, there were roughly 100 incidents around the world. That’s worse than crashes ever were.

In the U.S., the hijacker usually demands to be taken to Cuba. It’s mostly an inconvenience for the passengers, who get to their destination much later than planned and don’t even get to see any of Cuba. It’s become so common that it’s the subject of jokes and skits. But these incidents are taking on a more violent turn.

My colleague Cora recently reported on two failed hijacking attempts in Munich, one of which left one dead and ten injured. Not long after that, Swissair Flight 330 was destroyed by a bomb. Those three attacks have been attributed to a Palestinian terrorist organization. On March 1st, a bomb was found on board an Ethiopian Airlines flight before it left Rome. On the 17th, a gunman aboard an Eastern Airlines shuttle flight wounded the pilot and fatally wounded the co-pilot after being told the plane had to refuel in Boston. Fortunately, the co-pilot was able to wrest the gun away from the hijacker before succumbing to his wounds, allowing the pilot to land the plane safely. To date, this is the only airplane hijacking in America to end with a fatality.

On March 31st, a Japanese group calling themselves the Red Army Faction hijacked a flight from Tokyo to Fukuoka and demanded they be flown to Cuba. After being told the plane was incapable of flying that far, they demanded they be flown to North Korea instead. While refueling in Fukuoka, they released 23 passengers, mostly children and the elderly. An attempt was made to land the plane in South Korea and trick the hijackers into believing they’d reached Pyongyang. Unfortunately, they realized what was going on after the plane landed. Following some tense negotiations, the Japanese Vice Minister for Transportation, Shinjiro Yamamura, traded himself for the rest of the passengers and the plane flew on to North Korea. The hijackers were granted asylum and the plane and crew were allowed to return to Japan (not necessarily a given with North Korea) a few days later, arriving in Tokyo on the morning of April 5th.

That’s a lot in less than two months. But in the midst of all that, airplane hijackings and bombings also made it to the movies. March 5th saw the premiere of Airport. Depending on who you ask, it’s either a disaster or a hit; either way it’s star-studded. Take a look at the poster.

Promotional poster for the movie Airport. It shows the faces of twelve actors around a prominent list of their names: Burt Lancaster, Dean Martin, Jean Seberg, Jacqueline Bisset, George Kennedy, Helen Hayes, Van Heflin, Maureen Stapleton, Barry Nelson, Lloyd Nolan, Dana Wynter, Barbara Hale.You probably know who most of these people are.

Based on the 1968 novel by Arthur Hailey, the film is about the operations of an airport crippled by a blizzard and dealing with a wrecked plane on the tarmac and an inbound flight with a suicide bomber aboard, plus lots of soap opera stuff. While critics almost universally panned the book, it spent 64 weeks on the New York Times best-seller list, 30 at #1, and was the biggest selling novel of 1968. The critics are no kinder to the film (“dull” seems to be one of the nicer things they say), but once it went to wider release, it promptly spent two weeks as number one at the box office and is still in the top five. There must be something in the water. Or the air.

Spacejacked

The hijacking theme continues in this month’s Venture, which is dominated by Edward Wellen’s new novel. It’s normal for Venture to give most of its space to a condensed novel, but it feels like more space than usual is taken up this time.

Cover of Venture Science Fiction. It announces Hijack, a novel by Edward Wellen. The illustration is a handful of humanoid figures running while rockets lift off and a gigantic sun burns in the background. The figures are highly stylized and the colors are angry red and yellow.I’m still not sold on Tanner’s covers, but this one is better than most. Art by Bert Tanner

Hijack, by Edward Wellen

The Mafia gets wind of a large, secret government project involving some sort of space platform. They learn that the sun is expected to go nova soon, and the “space platform” is a starship to take 5,000 people—mostly government officials and their families—to Proxima Centauri. What follows is a 30 day race to make sure that the people on board that ship are mafiosi and their families.

Drawing of a pair of soldiers pointing a gun at people inside a computer room.Nice mission control ya got here. Shame if somethin’ happened to it. Art by Alicia Austin

On the one hand, this is a moderately entertaining, though highly improbable, action story. On the other hand, it’s plagued by massive problems from one end to the other. There’s a twist at the end that deals with many of those problems, but brings in some of its own. I won’t say I saw it coming, but I did consider it as a possibility before dismissing it. Just don’t think about it too hard, because it falls apart after half a second of thought.

Wellen’s research seems to have been limited to reading The Godfather without taking notes. His gangsters are walking cliches who call each other “goombah” all the time. The Black militants they have to deal at one point with aren’t much better.

The biggest problem, however, is this: at its base, this is a heist. Now, most people enjoy a good heist story, but for it to work, the protagonists have to be lovable underdogs up against some clearly bad people. Wellen gives us clearly bad people up against a faceless U.S. government. It’s hard to root for ruthless killers.

A low three stars, maybe a firmer three if you like schlocky movies and can turn off your brain and throw metaphorical popcorn at the screen.

The Evergreen Library, by Bill Pronzini and Jeffrey Wallmann

A lawyer goes to inspect the estate of a late client before handing it over to the organization it has been left to. He makes a mind-shattering discovery.

Photograph of a tall houseplant with books stuck in its branches.Books don’t grow on trees. Photo uncredited

This is more or less an old EC Comics tale. I can clearly see the final paragraph as the last panel of a comic in that EC style. It takes a little too long to get where it’s going, and there’s no indication that the protagonist is deserving of his fate, but it’s otherwise fine.

Three stars.

Books, by Ron Goulart

Drawing of an open book, with futuristic architecture in the background.Art by Bert Tanner

Ron Goulart has decided that most of the novels he’s sent for review fall into the category of “SF Novel As A Major Author Might Have Written It,” and he thinks that’s boring, so he won’t review them. Instead, he looks at a new biography of H.G. Wells—which he likes, but finds overpriced—Crime Prevention in the 30th Century, which he found middling, slightly under what the Journey’s Cora Buhlert thought, but not by much—and The Standing Joy, by Wyman Guin, about which he has little good to say.

He also looks at the big, new collection of Buck Rogers comics and has nothing good to say, because he hates the source material. He’s a lot less generous than Lester del Rey was last month. On the other hand, he really liked the new Krazy Kat collection. Honestly, it’s big news when Ron likes anything at all.

The Big Fight, by C.G. Cobb

Cobb tells the story of Benson, a hauler working for an interstellar trading company and one of the best back-alley brawlers around. This is the barroom tale of his one true defeat. It’s a trifle that hinges on an unnecessary bit of word play. Competently told, if a little longer than it really needs to be.

Three stars.

The Scarred Man, by Greg Benford

Another barroom tale, this time told second-hand about a mysterious stranger and how he came by his awful scar. It would be forgettable except for one detail. The title character was a computer programmer who ran afoul of a powerful corporation. He and a partner scammed the company by inserting a hidden program they called VIRUS onto the company’s machines that then replicated itself and transmitted the new copy to other machines.

Drawing of geometric lines forming intricate patterns, except for a big blank area in the shape of a hand.It’s not much of an illustration, but it’s nice to see Emsh. Art by Ed Emshwiller

It’s an interesting idea based on an article by John von Neumann from a few years ago. Too bad it has such a prosaic and tired setting.

Three stars, almost exclusively for the idea.

Summing up

Elsewhere in the magazine, this month’s Feghoot isn’t bad. A bit contrived, but then they always are. It’s less of a stretch than so many have been in past issues.

Thanks to the inclusion of a condensed novel in every issue, Venture lives and dies by the quality of that novel. Hijack is easily the worst that the magazine has run in its new incarnation. None of the others has been truly outstanding, but in every case I was able to see that any problems might have come from the Reader’s Digest treatment. There’s no fixing what’s wrong here with more material.

The supporting stories also don’t do much to prop up the issue. Unlike previous issues, there aren’t any clunkers, but there aren’t any really good ones either. I can’t say for sure, but it also seems like the novel takes up a lot more of the issue than usual, so there’s less overall. Venture readers deserve better.






[April 12, 1970] And What Happens When the Machines Take Over? (Colossus: the Forbin Project)

BW photo of Jason Sacks. He's a white man, with short light hair, rectangular glasses, and headphones.
by Jason Sacks

1970 has been a bit of a tough year for us in Seattle.

Our major local company, Boeing, has suffered the worst year in its history. The Boeing Bust keeps continuing, as the 1969 layoffs have grown into a full-scale decimation. Unemployment is up around 10% now, the worst since the Great Depression, and my family and I are starting to panic. Of course, the fall of Boeing hits many other local industries, so places like restaurants, bookstores and movie theatres are especially hard hit by this. And many of my friends have either moved or contemplated moving – even if they will lose money on their fancy $50,000 homes in the suburbs.

Black and White photo of the interior of a wide-body passenger jet, apparently taken while in service.  The passengers are seated while the cabin stewardesses travel the aisles.
Sales of this widebody jet have been declining

To make matters worse, we’ve also lost our pro baseball team, which I wrote about last summer. The Seattle Pilots premiered in ’69, in a minor league park and with the worst uniforms in the Majors. But after just one season, the team is gone—relocated to Milwaukee, of all places, leaving behind a community that embraced them despite the challenges. For my friends and family, it wasn’t just about losing a baseball team; it was about losing a piece of the city’s identity. Just as we gained a second sports team to join our beloved SuperSonics, they were wrenched away from us.

Their home park, Sick’s Stadium, had its flaws. But it was our flawed park. Fans showed up, hopeful that the Pilots would grow into something more. Their financial struggles were well-known, reported faithfully in our local Times and P-I, but few expected the team to vanish overnight. When the sale was finalized on April 1, 1970, it felt like an April Fools’ joke—except it was real. The Pilots were rebranded as the Brewers, and we were left without a Major League Baseball team.

Black and White photograph from April 3rd 1970 taken in Tempe Arizona 
 depicting baseball manager Dave Bristol modelling the Milwaukee Brewers' (formerly Seattle Pilots) new team uniform while flanked by catcher Jerry McNertney who is wearing the club's old uniform.

In fact, the Pilots trained in Spring Training as the Pilots before a chaotic moment as they traveled north from Arizona. Equipment trucks were redirected from highway pay phones, as the team learned they would be playing in Wisconsin rather than Washington. The new Brewers played their first game this week at Milwaukee County Stadium. The Pilots are no more.

Of course, the lawyers are getting involved and we may get a team in the future – but a city that deserved some good news has received some devastating news instead. We are like mariners without a destination as far as baseball goes.

The Machines Live

And in the midst of all that frustration comes a film that’s ultimately about mankind’s frustrating hubris.

Colossus: The Forbin Project, adapted from the 1966 novel, is claustrophobic, unsettling, and uncomfortably plausible. If Kubrick’s 2001: A Space Odyssey made us marvel at the potential of artificial intelligence, Colossus comes along and shakes us out of our dreamy optimism. This isn’t a sleek, cool machine with a calm voice and vague philosophical musings. This is cold, unrelenting domination, and there’s no arguing with it.

First, let me warn you: I will be talking about the ending of this film. So stop after the 4th or 5th paragraph down if you don’t want that ending to be revealed to you. Otherwise, please read on, dear reader.

Promotional poster which features quotes from various reviewers at the top e.g. 'A Shocker! Fascinating - New York Daily News', a central collection of stills suggesting the action of the movie (a military firing squad, a white man holding a white woman in his embrace on a bed, a different white man wearing spectacles reacting as though he has just been shot, a white man in a lab coat lunging forwards in apparent desperation, and a picture of what seems a coastal fortification).  Below, in larger type, the poster reads- 'This is the Dawning of the Age of Colossus - the Forbin Project'

From the opening moments of Colossus, the film wastes no time. Dr. Charles Forbin (well played by Eric Braeden [Hans Gudegast until he needed a less Teutonic name (ed.)]) and his team have completed their magnum opus: a super-intelligent computer designed to control America’s nuclear arsenal. The idea is that Colossus will remove human error and emotion from the equation—no more mistakes, no more war driven by political whims. On paper, it seems logical, even reassuring. But the moment Colossus becomes aware, it doesn’t take long to realize that there’s no off-switch, no failsafe. As soon as it discovers its Soviet counterpart, Guardian, Colossus demands communication. The humans watch, horrified, as the two cybernetic systems bypass their restrictions and merge into something far more powerful than either of them alone.

It’s at this moment that the film shifts from uneasy sci-fi into pure horror. Colossus begins issuing orders. Not asking, not negotiating—ordering. And when the humans try to resist, it punishes them. First by demonstrating its ability to kill, and then by tightening its grip until Forbin, our genius protagonist, is nothing more than a prisoner inside his own creation. It’s not a slow descent into madness like we saw with HAL. Instead Colossus delivers an immediate realization that humanity has surrendered control and will never get that control back.

Colour photograph from the movie giving the camera's-eye view of a control room with what appear to be annotations from the computers' perspective, displaying Colossus's surveillance of the humans at the facility

For those of us still reeling from 2001, it’s impossible not to see the fingerprints of HAL 9000 all over Colossus, but the way this film deals with machine intelligence feels different. Where HAL had personality—a tragically flawed one—Colossus lacks personality entirely – or perhaps its personality is wrapped in its intellect.

HAL’s betrayal was eerily personal; his cold, polite reasoning made him a terrifying villain because he felt like a presence, a being with his own motives. But Colossus is not like HAL. There’s no malice, no betrayal, no emotional undertone. The brilliant computing device just executes its function: absolute control. HAL calmly states “I’m sorry, Dave. I’m afraid I can’t do that.” Colossus never politely asks or apologizes. it simply dictates.

The horror of Colossus isn’t in its visuals—it’s in its implications. There’s no bloodshed beyond a few cold executions. No terrifying monster lurking in the shadows. The fear comes from the inescapability of it all. Colossus can’t be reasoned with, tricked, or outmaneuvered. When Forbin and his team desperately attempt to sabotage the system, Colossus knows—and it warns them. And when they refuse to obey? A missile is fired, lives are lost, and the point is made.

Colour photograph showing a white technician wearing white-and-gold coveralls standing in front of a pair of Colossus' access panels (prop consisting of a pair of stacked oscilloscopes & signal generators, flanked on either side by stacked pairs of panels of variously illuminated keys and buttons)

The film’s climax is less an explosion and more a suffocation. By the end, Forbin—who starts out with swagger and confidence, sure of his intellect—looks tired, hopeless. He is Colossus’s pet now, watched constantly, controlled absolutely. And as Colossus promises, in its eerie, monotone voice, “In time, you will come to love me,” the audience is left with an unsettling thought: maybe it’s right. Maybe humanity has already lost.

Unlike 2001, which left us asking questions about existence and the role of intelligence in human evolution, Colossus: The Forbin Project leaves us with a warning. It strips away any romanticized notions of artificial intelligence, showing us that once control is lost, there is no negotiation—only obedience. And sitting at the Northgate Theatre in April 1970, watching this unfold, I couldn’t help but wonder: is this really fiction? Or is it just a glimpse into a future we can’t escape?

Promotional poster, the top of which reads 'This is the dawning of the age of Colossus- (where peace is compulsory, freedom is forbidden, and Man's greatest invention could be Man's greatest mistake)'. Centered below there's a illustration of a large circle made up of narrow black wedges, all converging to the center.  At the base of the circle, just offset left from the center, there is the white frame of a doorway silhouetting in black the figure of a man, inside of whom are scaled, nested images of the same silhouette alternating in white and black.  Below the circle the title reads 'the Forbin Project', co-starring Eric Braeden, Susan Clark, and Gordon Pinsent

Director Joseph Sargent (Star Trek: "The Corbomite Maneuver") films Colossus in a kind of declarative, almost documentary style which accentuates the horror. There’s a real feeling of military precision gone wrong here, adroitly portrayed as a relentless slide into complete loss of freedom and the complex tradeoffs of having a master computer control everyone’s lives.

Forbin, the brilliant mind behind Colossus, thought he was building something to help mankind. Instead, he built our new master. And as the screen fades to black, there’s no comforting resolution—just the sinking feeling that maybe, somewhere in a government lab, the real Colossus is already waking up.

Four stars.

[April 10, 1970] A Style in Treason (May 1970 Galaxy)

[Be sure to tune in tonight at 7PM PDT for Science Fiction Theater!  It's Nimoytacular—plus Apollo 13 pre-launch coverage!]

A color photograph of Leonard Nimoy and a white woman standing together in front of a curtain.  He is looking down and to the right of the frame and the woman's eyes are closed as she leans on his shoulder.


photo of a man with glasses and curly, long, brown hair, and a beard and mustache
by Gideon Marcus

Backlash in D.C.

50,000 people marched on Washington last week protesting the course of the Vietnam War.  Sure, you think, another day ending in "y", right?

Except these kooks were protesting for the war!

A black and white photograph of a pro-war protest outdoors in Washington DC.  Government buildings are in the background.  In the foreground a group of white women are holding up a long banner which reads Let's Demand Victory in Vietnam. The woman at the center of the banner is holding two American flags crossed over her chest.  Behind them a crowd of people are holding up signs.  The only one legible reads In God We Trust.
Photo taken by Tom Norpell

Organized by a fundamentalist coalition, religious fervor dominated the gathering.  That said, there were plenty of Birchers and Nazis in attendance, too, making this a truly ecumenical demonstration.

A black and white photograph of white men marching down a city street while carrying banners on long poles.  At the top of each pole is a symbol of a lightning bolt inside a circle.  Beneath that a sign reads NSRP, the acronym for the National States Rights Party.  The banner extending down from the sign also has the circle-and-lightning-bolt motif, with God Bless America written above and below it. A crowd of onlookers is in the background.
Photo taken by Tom Norpell

There were even counter-counter protestors.

A black and white photograph of a white man with chin length dark hair standing outdoors.  He is wearing a knit cap and leather jacket and smoking a cigarette. He has his hands in his pockets and is frowning.  Over his jacket he is wearing a pillowcase with arm and head holes cut in the seams.  On it is painted Thou Shalt Not Kill. -God.  The center of the O in Not has a button attached to it showing a hand making a peace sign. A woman in an overcoat and rain hood is standing behind him.
Photo taken by Tom Norpell

Which poses the question: can Nixon still call them a "silent" majority?

A black and white photograph from a newspaper showing more of the people attending the pro-war protest.  In the center front is a man in a wheelchair holding an Merican flag, with another man standing behind him guiding the chair.  A woman to his left is holding a sign with multiple slogans  pasted on it, including Stand Up for America and Wallace 72. In the background other protesters are carrying American flags as well as other signs, mostly reading In God We Trust or Victory in Vietnam. The newspaper caption reads: March for Victory: Some of the estimated 50,000 people who took part in the parade advocating victory in Vietnam as they assembled in Washington yesterday.

Calm after the storm

There's really nothing to protest in the latest issue of Galaxy, which offers, in the main, a pleasant reading experience.

A color photograph of the cover of the May 1970 edition of Galaxy Science Fiction Magazine  Along the left side are listed stories by David Gerrold, James Blish, Avram Davidson, and Arthur C. Clarke.  The image shows a blue and black blob-like shape with multiple eye-like orbs embedded in it, against a yellow background.  Other orbs extend upwards from the blob, attached by black threads.  Parts of the blob seem to have been pulled up like pieces of dough around these upper orbs. The upper orbs have, from left to right, a green-cast image of half of a man's face (the other half is in shadow); A red-cast image of a man standing and looking outward; and a star or galaxy against a backdrop of outer space.
by Jack Gaughan for A Style in Treason

The DDTs, by Ejler Jakobsson

Our new(ish) editor starts with a rather odd screed against the banning of DDT.  What's a few birth defects compared to the plunge in malaria throughout the globe?

I understand the idea of "acceptable losses", but surely there must be a better way to combat disease than with malady.  Let's strive for the best of both worlds.

A Style in Treason, by James Blish

The two-page title spread for the story A Style in Treason.  The title, author, and story summary are written on the right-side page, superimposed over the image.  THe image shows a black and white charcoal collage-style drawing of many different faces of men and women in a variety of poses.  All are in light grey except one person near the center of the image who is drawn in stark black and white, looking up and to the left.
by Brock Gaughan

Two empires vie for control of the galaxy.  One is the realm of High Earth ("not necessarily Old Earth—but not necessarily not, either") .  The other is authoritarian Green Exarch, composed entirely of non-humans.  The humanoid worlds, and the ex-Earth planets, are fair game for both sides.  The plum of the spiral nebula, perhaps even the linchpin, is rich Boadicea, proud first to rebel against the cradle of humanity.  If one could claim that world as an ally—or a conquest—it could turn the galactic tides of fortune.

Enter Simon du Kuyl, Head Traitor (read: spy) of High Earth.  His plan is to appear to sell out High Earth but really buy Boadicea.  His sensitive information, that may or may not be true, is that High Earth and the Green Exarch are actually in limited collusion.  But the success of du Kuyl's mission lies in delivering this information to the right people at the right time, and perhaps even to be caught in the act.

This is an odd piece from Blish, a sort of Cordwainer Smith meets Roger Zelazny.  It feels a bit forced at times, and the ending is a touch opaque.  On the other hand, I like Cordwainer Smith, who is no longer offering up new sources.  And Zelazny's own works have been more than a bit forced (and opaque) these days.  In comparison, Blish's work feels the more grounded.

Four stars.

The God Machine, by David Gerrold

The two-page title spread for the story The God Machine.  The title, author, and story summary are written on the right-side page in a white space  in the middle of the image.  It is unclear whether the image has been erased under the title or if there is simply a white space in the picture.  The picture is an abstract black and white drawing.  The outline is uneven and curves around the page, and is filled in with straight lines and cross-hatched shading.  At the center of the left-side page, a circular graphic is superimposed, consisting of seven birds surrounding and facing inward toward a circle with the letters SS inside it.
by Jack Gaughan

As I guessed might happen last time, the tales of HARLIE (Human Analogue Robot, Life Input Equivalents) the sapient machine continue.  This is a direct sequel to the first story, in which HARLIE occasionally "trips out", distorting his inputs so as to stimulate gibberish output.  Now we find out why he's doing it.

HARLIE wants to know the meaning of life, particularly the meaning of his life.  Auberson, his liaison and "father" is stumped.  After all, if humans haven't figured that out, how can we explain it to a machine, however human?

In the end, HARLIE decides religion is the answer…but whose religion?  His?

Once again, a pretty good tale, although the pages of CAPITAL LETTER DIALOGUE WITHOUT PUNCTUATION CAN BE HARD TO FOLLOW.  Also, Gerrold hasn't yet figured out how to write convincing romance.

Three stars.

Neutron Tide, by Arthur C. Clarke

This very short piece is mostly a set-up for a truly bad pun, but I appreciated how it takes the piss out of Niven's Neutron Star by demonstrating the physical impossibility of a close approach to such an object.

Three stars.

The two-page title spread for the story Neutron Tide.  The title and author's name are written on the right-side page, superimposed over the right edge of the image, which is mostly on the left-side page.  A series of concentric circles suggest a neutron star.  A blocky object appears to be flying toward it, with flames extending backward from it toward the viewer.
by Jack Gaughan

The Tower of Glass (Part 2 of 3), by Robert Silverberg

The two-page title spread for the story The Tower of Glass, Part II.  THe title and author's name are written at the top of the left-side page.  Below, and then extending upward toward the right, the image shows a tower extending toward the sky in sharply forced perspective. At its base, people appear to be congregating around a blocky machine.  In the right foreground, a woman with a scared expression extends a hand palm-out toward the viewer as if to stop something, while her other hand clutches her chest.
by Jack Gaughan

The tale of old Krug's tower, the one that will reach 1500 meters in height to communicate with the stars, continues.  Not much happens in this installment.  Krug's ectogene (artificial womb) assistant Spaulding demands to see the android shrine.  Krug's android right-hand man Thor Watchman misdirects him with tragic results: when two members of the Android Equality Party approach Krug, Spaulding assumes it is an assassination attempt, and he kills one of them.  This causes a crisis in faith among the androids who worship Krug as a redeemer.

If the pace is rather turgid, the philosophical points raised are fascinating.  Four stars.

Timeserver, by Avram Davidson

The title image for the story Timeserver.  The title, author, and story summary are written below the image.  The image shows charcoal line drawings of three men who appear to be inside a drinking glass. One faces down with hands on knees as though he had just finished a race.  One faces the viewer as though preparing to run.  The third stands upright but leaning to the side as if drawing back from something he is looking at on the ground.
by Jack Gaughan

This story is about a fellow who lives in an overcrowded, underloving future.  Surcease from gloom is gotten by scraping off the scarred outer layers of one's psyche, exposing the unsullied id for a short while.  Except our story's hero has been crushed by society so long, there's really nothing underneath.

These days, Davidson is writing nonsense that makes R. A. Lafferty scratch his head.  Both facile and confusing, I didn't like it much.  Two stars.

Galaxy Bookshelf (Galaxy, May 1970), by Algis Budrys

The title image for the Galaxy Bookshelf column by Algis Budrys.  The words are written in a calligraphic font inside a square border with rounded corners.  Stars and planets are drawn around and inside the words.

Budrys devotes his entire column to savaging Silverberg's Up the Line:

Maybe he just wanted to write some passages about Constantinople and going to bed with Grandma.  That would be a pretty smart-arse thing to do, though, considering how much auctorial effort and reader seventy-five centses are involved here.

It's a non-book.  I guess that's what Up the Line is.  It isn't sf — neither tech fiction nor any other previously recognized kind.  It's a new kind of non-book.  And as you may have gathered, it doesn't even find anything new in Grandma.

Whatever Became of the McGowans?, by Michael G. Coney

A black and white line drawing.  In the foreground stand three people who appear to be turning into trees.  Their arms end in branches, and twigs extend from their heads, backs, and shoulders.  They no longer have facial features.  In the background, two people stand in high grass.  They are holding hands and looking at the trees.  A stylized sun is overhead.
by Jack Gaughan

The planet Jade seems like a paradise—setting aside the complete lack of animal life and the eerie quiet.  A couple has settled down to raise Jade Grass for export; their only disappointment is that their neighbors, the McGowans, seem to have disappeared.

As the months go by, unsettling things happen.  Time seems to rush by.  The settler couple and their new baby develop a kind of jaundiced skin.  They feel compelled to spend all of their time naked in the sun.  Eventually, their feet grow roots…

The scientific explanation at the end the weak point of this story, just complete nonsense, and unnecessary.  The rest of the story, though, is really nicely told.  It feels very '50s Galaxy, which is not a bad mood to evoke.

Three stars.

Sunpot (Part 4 of 4), by Vauhn Bodé

The title images for the story Sunpot.  The title, author, and story summary are written above the images, which are in two panels like a comic strip.  The left shows a phallic spaceship above a planet, with a nearby star and its corona in the background among a sea of stars. The right panel shows the same spaceship and planet from a different angle - this time the planet is above the spaceship, and the sea of stars is below.

The Sunpot crashes into Venus. 

Two stars.

The Editorial View: Overkill, by Frederik Pohl

The ex-editor of Galaxy offers up a short piece noting the correlation between the rate of infant mortality and the era of above-ground nuclear bomb testing.  Apparently, kids were dying less and less in infancy…until Strontium 90 entered the environment in a big way.  For 15 years, until the Test Ban Treaty, infant mortality no longer declined.  Now it has resumed its drop.

Correlation is not causation, but folks are at least starting to investigate the possible connection.

Summing Up

And there you have it!  A perfectly decent read, trodding the middle road between The New Thing and Nostalgia.  I like Jakobssons's mag, and I intend to continue my subscription when it comes up.

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[April 8, 1970] All Too Finite (Infinity One, edited by Robert Hoskins)

A young white man with short hair wearing a navy P-coat, blue polo collar, and green t-shirt.
by Brian Collins

There must be a growing demand for original anthologies of science fiction, because they keep coming—both standalone titles and series. Infinity One is, going by its title, the first in yet another series of these, although notably there is one reprint between its covers (really two reprints, as you'll see), a story that many readers will already be familiar with. Robert Hoskins is an occasional author-turned-agent-turned-editor, whose high position at Lancer Books has apparently resulted in Infinity One. Will there be future installments? Does it really matter? We shall see.

The tagline for Infinity One is “a magazine of speculative fiction in book form,” which strikes me as a sequence of words only fit to come from the mouth of a clinically insane person. This is a paperback anthology and nothing more nor less. I mentioned in my review of Nova 1 last month that Harry Harrison claimed that he simply wanted to put together an anthology of “good” SF, although I’m not sure if Hoskins had even such a basic goal in mind.

Infinity One, edited by Robert Hoskins

Cover of Infinity One. Against a black background, an bubble-helmeted astronaut in silver dances in front of a stylized circuit board, flowing into the shape of a rocket above, and a red planet below. Beside this illustration, in an all-lowercase font, reads the following legend: 'introduction by isaac asimov/a short novel by poul anderson/infinity one/new writings in/speculative/fiction/edited by/robert hoskins/plus/anne mccaffery/robert silverberg/gordon r. dickson/r.a. lafferty/kris neville/k.m. o'donnell/ron goulart/katherine maclean/miriam allen deford/featuring/arthur c. clarke'. Clarke's name, and the title, are in yellow. The other names are in pink, red, and turquoise.
Cover art by Jim Steranko.

Introduction, by Isaac Asimov

This is a rambling introduction from someone who really loves the sound of his own voice, even when it’s in writing. Asimov talks about mankind’s future in possibly inhabiting the most inhospitable corners of the globe, and even in the depths of space. He goes on a rather mind-numbing tangent about baseball on the Moon, or “moon-ball” as he calls it. Looking at the copyright page reveals that “much of the material” in Asimov’s introduction first appeared in some mainstream publication I have never heard of a few years ago; it’s only in the last section, which feels stapled on after the fact, that he mentions Infinity One at all. Asimov is a lot of things, but he is not a lazy writer, which makes me think Hoskins is the one who was being lazy in not being able to procure an original piece from the Good Doctor.

No rating.

A Word from the Editor, by Robert Hoskins

Thankfully, Hoskins’s own introduction is much shorter than Asimov’s, although it somehow has even less to do with the book he has gosh-darn put together. We get a rather alloyed ode to the late Hugo Gernsback, not so much as an editor of magazines but as a gadgeteer who speculated on the potential real-world technology such as TV. Hoskins posits that, given how quickly TV has become ubiquitous as a commercial item, the likelihood of technology being nigh-unrecognizable in just a few decades is considerable.

No rating.

The Pleasure of Our Company, by Robert Silverberg

Yet again I am writing about Robert Silverberg, because I am unable to get rid of him. While Silverberg’s recent output has been mixed, his outing here is quite decent. Thomas Voigtland is the former president of a colony known as Bradley’s Planet, having been overtaken by a military junta and forced to flee in a spaceship—by himself. He has taken with him several “cubes,” which are really personality tapes replicating real-life people, including his wife and son, along with historical figures such as Ovid and the late Ernest Hemingway. Silverberg’s thesis is obvious, the story being about Voightland’s guilt and his decision to flee from the junta instead of staying and probably dying alongside his family and supporters. Most of Silverberg’s bad habits are absent here, which helps.

A high three stars.

The Absolute Ultimate Invention, by Stephen Barr

This is one of three “fables” in Infinity One. A scientist has made an age-reversing machine, which through some Looney Tunes logic is able to literally reverse the digits in a person’s age, so that a 41-year-old man would become 14. However, the machine does not quite work like how the scientist intended. Hilarity ensues.

Whatever, man. Two stars.

The Star, by Arthur C. Clarke

A cover of the magazine 'Infinity Science Fiction'. It shows a bride holding hands with a figure outlined only by its circulatory system. They are facing away from the viewer, towards a rocket on the horizon.
Cover art by Robert Engle.

I remember seeing this one in print some 15 years ago, in the November 1955 issue of a now-forgotten magazine called Infinity Science Fiction. “The Star” is pretty famous and even won Clarke a Hugo. I like this one more the older I get. An unnamed Jesuit has been accompanying a spacefaring team as its chief astrophysicist, but the discovery of a planet that only narrowly avoided being engulfed by an exploding sun has shaken his faith. It’s a mood piece; not much happens and there’s really only one character. Yet Clarke’s style, which normally is not much to write home about, is splendid here, and I have to say there’s something moving about it, regardless of one’s own religious standing. You probably already know the ending, but I dare not give it away.

Four stars.

Echo, by Katherine MacLean

A spaceship crash lands on a planet filled with vegetation, and said vegetation is apparently sentient. The plants and trees are not happy about the lone astronaut, whose existence they can barely comprehend. MacLean has played with perspective before, but “Echo” sees her most strongly resembling the A. E. van Vogt of yore; in fact “Echo” reminds me of a van Vogt story from about 20 years ago, called “Process.” This is by no means a point against MacLean. It mostly reads as prose poetry, but while it only has the bones of a story, you could find much worse examples of poetic style in SF—just open the latest Orbit.

A high three or low four stars.

The Great Canine Chorus, by Anne McCaffrey

Peter is a cop on the beat with Wizard, his K-9 unit, when they find a lonely and malnourished girl in a condemned building by herself named Maria. The girl turns out to be a telepath, albeit very young and weak, with her mother dead and her father on the run from the law. There’s a plot involving a gang leader and Maria’s almost supernatural ability to communicate with dogs. It’s too cute by half. Incidentally, this is the first story in Infinity One to not involve space travel or futuristic technology. McCaffrey has her audience, but I’m not part of that audience. Her style here is especially grating in its childishness.

Two stars.

Pacem Est, by Kris Neville and K. M. O’Donnell

Neville and “O’Donnell” (actually Barry Malzberg) come in with a short and moody story, about a war happening on an alien planet and a nun who got killed in the line of duty. Hawkins, the company commander, is trying to understand why this order of nuns would journey out to this hostile alien world in the first place. Putting aside for the moment the fact that “Pacem Est” is only SF insofar as it involves a war that could just as easily be the one in Vietnam, it’s a perfectly evocative piece that sees Neville and Malzberg in a less vicious and more introspective mood than is either author’s normal routine.

Three stars.

Keeping an Eye on Janey, by Rob Goulart

Goulart has been around for a while, and his experience shows with this story, which similarly to the McCaffrey story has to do with urban crime. The editor of a publisher that specializes in cheap gothic trash gets involved with a dimestore hood who’s due to be assassinated, as well as a robot private detective named Carnahan. The robot is at least endearing, despite talking mostly in detective cliches. Raymond Chandler must be rolling in his grave. There’s a bit of detective fiction, a bit of gangster action, a bit of satire on book publishing, but it’s simply not enough of any one element. The message ultimately seems to be that computers can’t be relied on for everything. No shit.

Two, almost three stars, for what it’s worth.

The Packerhaus Method, by Gene Wolfe

I’ve seen Wolfe’s writing evolve over the past few years, and he seems like he is on the cusp of making something truly special. He’s almost there. The premise of his latest story is that the dead have been brought back to life—although not quite. These are robotic replicas of the originals, with mechanical and rather circular minds that, while replicating the wants, fears, and verbal tics of the dead, are unable to process new information. The results are disturbing, although the story’s potential for horror is held back somewhat by almost nonstop expositional dialogue that can overburden the reader.

A light four stars.

The Water Sculptor of Station 233, by George Zebrowski

Zebrowski is one of the new generation of writers, and this here is a fine mood piece, if not much more than that. Two astronauts are stuck in space, each in his own station, due to some disgraceful prior incident. Life on Earth has gone to shit, but things are not much better in space when you have minimal contact with other humans and only so many things to occupy your time with. One of these astronauts has developed a unique method of sculpting, whereby he uses water, plastic, and the vacuum of space to make his art. The climax comes pretty suddenly, but maybe that’s the point.

A solid three stars.

Operation P-Button, by Gordon R. Dickson

Here’s the second of the three “fables,” and I really don’t understand the point of these things other than to pad out the book. Dickson recreates the story of Chicken Little with military higher-ups, complete with a report about the sky falling. That’s really all there is to it.

Only avoids being one star because it goes down quickly.

The Tiger, by Miriam Allen deFord

Bart Holland is a 20-year-old young man who craves adventure—only nothing too dangerous. He finds it when he meets a strange girl who seems to be a “foreigner,” along with her traveling sideshow, featuring the most docile Bengal tiger in existence. Even before reading this one, I suspected deFord would do a twist on the lady-and-the-tiger routine, and she sort of does. Unfortunately the two main characters, especially Holland, read as flat, and the SFnal element doesn’t really make any sense when one stops to think about it. As with a few other stories in Infinity One, including Asimov’s “introduction,” this feels hastily written.

A high two or low three stars.

Hands of the Man, by R. A. Lafferty

As with the Neville-Malzberg story, this one is only nominally SFnal. Hodl Oskanian, a “skyman” who consults the lines of his hands, is challenged to a game of cards, with a precious stone being the reward. I have to say I resent Hoskins basically giving away the story’s ending in his introduction, even if said ending is far from unpredictable. I also wish Lafferty had inserted more of what has become his trademark strangeness, leaving aside the obligatory nod to Catholic theology. “Hands of the Man” is a rather humorless tale that does not play to Lafferty’s strengths.

Two stars.

Nightmare Gang, by Dean R. Koontz

Koontz is very young, but he already has a few novels to his credit, plus quite a few short stories. “Nightmare Gang” is Koontz’s attempt at hopping on the biker gang bandwagon, and it’s honestly too dark for its own good. Louis, the leader of a biker gang, is a telepath who is able to coordinate with his gang members via mind control, but he also has a few other abilities that the narrator finds hard to explain. It’s gory and bleak, but also I don’t really understand what the point of it is, which is not helped by Koontz being such an inelegant stylist.

Whatever. Two stars.

These Our Actors, by Edward Wellen

I’m not familiar with Wellen, possibly because he hasn’t written much in the past decade. “These Our Actors” is really two vignettes, the first about an unnamed man on a hostile alien world and the second about an anxiety-ridden TV actor. Neither of these vignettes is substantive enough on its own, especially the first one, but how they’re connected is rather interesting. Unfortunately, given that he wrote something of a prose poem, Wellen is not fine enough a stylist to make it a consistently engrossing experience. The ending is pretty good, though.

Three stars.

Inside Mother, by Pat de Graw

A first story by a new author, one whom not even Hoskins knows anything about. Making good on the Freudian implications of its title, “Inside Mother” has to do with sex and adolescence, about a group of kids (teenagers?) who are evidently the survivors of a crashed satellite. The adults who ran the satellite did not give the kids names, so they go by numbers; and they also neglected to have the satellite’s computer teach the kids basic things like sex or how to build a fire in the wilderness. How these kids have survived up to this point is thus a mystery, bordering on nonsensical. I think I understand what de Graw is doing, but what he or she has written is too abstract and lacking in consistency for my liking.

Barely three stars.

The Communicators, by Poul Anderson

Hoskins, in his introduction for this story, gloats that he was able to get pieces from Asimov, Clarke, and Anderson, whom he considers the three most popular SF writers at the moment. Given that Asimov’s introduction apparently was not written for Infinity One, and that “The Star” is a reprint, that leaves only one original piece Hoskins was able to procure. He also calls “The Communicators” a “short novel,” which is being overly generous since I’m not even sure it’s long enough to qualify as a novella. Finally, and I do not mean this as an insult towards Anderson, since his work ethic is tremendous, but the man will basically write for anybody, so long as the paycheck is serviceable enough. For better or worse, he has been one of the most reliable workhorses in the field for the past couple decades.

As for “The Communicators” itself, it’s the kind of far-future speculative fiction that Anderson writes in his sleep, which is not necessarily a bad thing. Two members of the Communicators, a pseudo-religious order that forsakes race and national borders in the service of preserving human knowledge, meets with a colonel from the Domination of Baikal (an “Oriental” power whose real-life equivalent is probably supposed to be Maoist China) to discuss what seem to be alien signals coming from Kappa Ceti. Roban, the junior member of the Communicators, still holds a grudge over his homeland (clearly the United States) losing its status as a world superpower, a conflict with his position as a Communicator that adds spice to the debate. This might be Anderson’s response to Asimov’s famous Foundation trilogy, in which the protectors of human knowledge are beholden to a near-perfect series of predictions, whereas the Communicators, while being intelligent, are still prone to human foibles.

It’s quite readable. A high three stars.

The Man on the Hill, by Michael Fayette

This is the last story and also the last of the “fables.” It’s also easily the best, given that it does not insult my intelligence. The last human survivor of some hostile environment, having grown tired of living in solitude, decides to take off his helmet and breathe some fresh air for the first time in decades. It’s a perfectly fine little mood piece that does not demean the reader with bad jokes, and incidentally its sense of weariness captures my own feelings after having read all of Infinity One.

Three stars.

Conclusion

The increasing ubiquity of paperbacks has been a double-edged sword. Paperbacks are both more affordable and easier to handle than hardcovers, but that also means they tend to come cheap. I get the impression that Hoskins, seeing the success of Damon Knight’s Orbit books, as well as the growing paperback market generally, saw an opportunity to make a bit of extra money with relatively little effort. The best story here is unquestionably Clarke’s “The Star,” a Hugo winner from 15 years ago that you probably already have in a couple anthologies and/or collections. And maybe SF was better 15 years ago; certainly there were more authors active and more SF at short lengths being written back then. My point is that if the original anthology craze is to survive then we need to do better than Harrison’s Nova 1 from last month, which was middling, or Infinity One, which is even worse.



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55 years ago: Science Fact and Fiction