Every 19 months, Venus and Earth reach positions in their trips around the Sun such that travel to the former from the latter uses a minimum of energy. Essentially, a rocket blasts off and thrusts itself toward the Sun just long enough to drift inward and meet Venus after about half an orbit (a direct path would be very costly in terms of fuel use). The less energy used, the bigger the spacecraft can be sent. That means more payload for experiments.
The Soviets have been trying to reach the Planet of Love, Earth's closest neighbor (besides the Moon) for more than six years now. In February 1961, they launched Venera 1 (Venus 1), the first interplanetary probe to fly by another world–but it had gone silent by the time it got there. Veneras 2 and 3 went up three opportunities later, in November 1965, but fell silent the next spring, just before reaching their target. Indeed, Venera 3, a soft-lander, is believed to have rammed the cloud-shrouded world, becoming the first artificial object to reach another world. Either way, no useful data was received.
Why didn't they launch any Veneras in 1962 or 1964? In fact, it looks like they did. The Soviets don't herald their failures. Nevertheless, according to NASA officials, we have a pretty good catalog of them, thanks to careful parsing of Russian news reports as well as radar and telemetry data we've managed to gather. Three Russkie Venus probes were launched in September 1962 and three more in February 1964. Getting out of Earth orbit can be tough, requiring a second firing of onboard engines once a spacecraft is circling our planet. Apparently, these six probes never got away.
But Venera 4, launched on June 12, 1967, has apparently passed that first hurdle. Moreover, at one and a quarter tons, it is several hundred pounds heavier than any of its predecessors. We don't know much about what's on the latest Communist probe, but scientists speculate some of the extra weight has been devoted to heat shielding. Venus is very hot, perhaps 900° Fahrenheit, and it is believed that heat is what caused Venera 3 to fail. Given that TASS, the Soviet news service, reported that Venera 4 is going to Venus, rather than by, it is assumed the spacecraft will make another landing attempt.
Provided it doesn't go slient like its predecessors. Communicating across planetary distances is a hurdle the Soviets only recently surmounted with their Zond 3 probe, which tested radio reception at about 150 million kilometers' distance–far enough for a Martian mission. Essentially, Zond 3 was the Soviet version of Pioneer 5–but five years later. This is suggestive as to the Soviet level of communications technology, at least. America would seem to have the clear lead there.
Well, I wish the Soviets luck. Politics or no, I want to know more about that mysterious, seared world that is Venus!
Yankee Two-dle
If Venera 4 fails, it has a back-up of sorts. Mariner 5, itself a back-up for the Mars-bound Mariner 4, was launched today early this morning, destination: Venus.
Already several hundred thousand kilometers from Earth, zooming at more than 10,000 kilometers per hour, it should reach Venus in October. The spacecraft, launched via Atlas-Agena, the same rocket that launched our first Venus probe, Mariner 2, is barely a quarter the mass of Venera 4. Moreover, Mariner 4's TV camera has been deleted, a decision that likely irks Venus scientist Dr. Carl Sagan, who insists doing so is short-sighted, clouds or no.
But that removal, along with the reduction in the size of the solar panels (less is needed so close to the sun) means that when Mariner 5's planned flight path brings it within 3000 kilometers of Venus, it will be able to investigate the planet with a wide suite of instruments. An ultraviolet photometer should not only refine temperature estimates of the Venusian upper atmosphere, it will tell us a bit about what gasses constitute it. For instance, if there be any water there, perhaps life exists in the cloud tops, above the intense heat at the surface.
The rest of the instruments are likely ho-hum for the general audience, but should return a bonanza for scientists. They include a magnetometer and various radiation sensing equipment that not only will measure the Venusian version of the Van Allen Belts (if they exist–Mariner 2 couldn't find any), but also tell us a lot about the solar wind on the way to Venus.
I will say, I'm glad we're sending a craft to Venus, and it does seem we did it on the cheap ($35 million), but I think I'm with Sagan on this one: for all the effort, it seems we're not going to find out very much about Venus with Mariner 5. Another reason to root for Venera 4.
And a good reason to write your Congressman about the importance of planning a bigger Venus shot, perhaps on the more powerful Atlas Centaur rocket, when the next opportunity rolls around in January 1969!
Want to find out what we currently know about Venus? Come read our previous articles on the planet of love!
Even now, it's hard to believe. Little Israel, surrounded, outnumbered, and all but written off as doomed a week ago, has emerged triumphant over its neighbors, occupying an area unequalled in size since the days of King Solomon.
How did we get here?
Prelude to a Clash
A month ago, this conflict hardly seemed inevitable. Yes, the Syrians and Israelis had tangled. IDF planes shot down six Arab MiGs in a single dogfight after Israeli forces raided to stop the flow of terrorists into the country. After that, it seemed things would calm down. Certainly, Defense Minister Dayan seemed relaxed during Israel's 19th Independence Day celebration.
But behind the scenes, the Syrians were panicking. Convinced that some eleven Israeli brigades were poised at their border (there were likely not as many companies), Syrian strongman Salah Jadid pleaded with Egyptian leader Gamal Abdel Nasser to agitate a preemptive invasion. The timing was perfect: the Soviet Union could secure greater influence with its Arab client states, and Nasser could regain stature, his support flagging dangerously over his expensive boondoggle war in Yemen vs. Saudi Arabia.
Nasser quickly ordered the UN peacekeeping forces stationed on the Egyptian/Israeli border to leave, which Secretary General U Thant unilaterally ordered. Then Nasser deployed the better part of 100,000 troops to the Sinai. On May 31, he invited Jordan's King Hussein, whom he'd only three weeks before derided as an imperialist puppet, to join the alliance. Hussein, who had been succored by American support late last year, must have been a reluctant partner. Yet, there he was in Cairo, all smiles for the camera.
All Arabia was inflamed with a passion to "drive the Jews into the sea" and "erase Israel from the map". Nasser just needed a pretense to invade. He aimed to provide it. Late last month, Egypt and Saudia Arabia closed off the Strait of Tiran, the southern end of the Gulf of Aqaba. This is one of Israel's crucial lifelines, and Prime Minister Levi Eshkol made it clear that this blockade constituted an act of war.
Shut down Aqaba
Arab exiles, enthusiastic to wipe Israel off the map
Of course it was. But Israel, now virtually abandoned by its former allies, the French, and receiving tepid support from America (tied down with its own foreign conflict), seemed at long odds to win this fight.
Strike first
There is a maxim among wargamers — it is better to strike first at 1 to 2 odds than second at 3 to 1. On the morning of June 5, 1967, Israeli planes sortied over the skies of Egypt and Jordan. It was an unprecedented tactic: fully 100% of the IDF's planes were committed, and no targets of opportunity were allowed. They were to destroy the Arab air forces on the ground. Not the support facilities, not the pilots, just the planes.
They did just that, guaranteeing uncontested control of the sky for the remainder of the operation. When Syrians launched a raid on Haifa, and Iraqi planes tried to penetrate Israeli air space, those nations, too, were savaged.
An Israeli armored column made a frontal assault on Egypt's defenses in Sinai, bolstered since the '56 war. Simultaneously, Israeli forces headed toward Kabanya, Jenin, and Latrun in the West Bank. This latter did not have to have happened. Indeed, that morning, Eshkol made an impassioned plea to Hussein not to honor his commitment to the Egyptian alliance. Jordan entered the war anyway.
The cream of Jordan's might
By the next day, it was clear the Egyptians had underestimated the Israelis. The IDF tanks under General Tal made it halfway across the northern coast of Sinai while other columns broke the Egyptian lines, savaging the artillery positions behind. In Jordan, the Israelis pushed further into the northern West Bank, and east to Deir Nizam and Ramallah. But their primary target was the ancient capital of the Jews: Jerusalem.
The IDF plows into the Sinai
The next morning, Israeli paratroopers (including my niece-in-law's brother) aided ground troops in a daring assault on the city. By early morning, Jews were once again at the foot of the Wailing Wall after nearly two decades of enforced separation. That evening, a bedraggled Jordanian King, a man who had lost half of his country, agreed to a UN ceasefire.
Heading for the West Wall
Israeli parachutists gaze in wonder at the remains of their Temple
King Hussein announces a cease-fire
In Egypt, Tal's forces reached the Suez while Israeli planes and armor savaged Nasser's vehicles in the Mitla Pass. By the next day, the IDF had secured all of the Sinai.
Egyptian wreckage in the Mitla Pass
Only one tragedy mitigated the exult of victory–on the 8th, Israeli jets attacked the U.S.S. Liberty, a communications ship close off the Mediterranean coast of the Sinai. What it was doing there is still unknown, but at the time, the IDF believed it to be a Soviet ship guiding Egyptian guns. 10 Americans were killed in the strike. The Israeli government immediately apologized for the error.
The Liberty limps home
With Egypt and Jordan out of the fight, now it was the turn of Syria, regarded in the West as the instigator of the whole affair. At first, it seemed Israel might not invade, fearing Soviet reprisals. But the threat of the Golan Heights was too great, and the Syrians at the border too hostile to ignore. On June 9, with the other two fronts of this latest conflict wrapped up, Israeli forces plunged toward Damascus. By the next day, the Syrian forces were smashed and the Golan was in Israeli hands.
Israelis in the Golan Heights
Syrians surrender
Whither the Holy land
Which brings us to today: the Arab world is humiliated, Israel controls twice the land it did a week ago (though I can't imagine they'll keep any of it if '56 be any precedent). Several hundred thousand Arabs exiled and born of exiles from the former mandate, identifying as Palestinians and whipped into a fury at the prospect of reclaiming the Holy Land, now find themselves under Jewish authority.
Israelis clear the "Gaza Strip", home to 300,000 "Palestinian" Arabs
At the UN Security Council
Moreover, the Egyptians have already received new planes from the Soviets by way of other Arab countries. There are concerns that Nasser may launch round two later this month or next month.
Israel is alive. Israel is triumphant. But what now?
An Undeserted Desert
by Jessica Dickinson Goodman
The beaches in Gaza smell like San Francisco, except the water is warmer and no great fog banks cloud the views of the rolling Mediterranean Sea. But the feeling of a bustling city, full of creative minds, just on the brink of something incredible – it's the same. Families fish for squid and sardines here, frying them in open-sided kitchens right on out the sand. Some fishermen go out at night, turning on floodlights to lure them to the surface, tentacles drifting up as they seek the stars. The call-to-prayer echoes over the city; some people stop what they're doing to pray, and some do not. It's a mixed city, mostly Muslim with an Orthodox church dating back to the 1100s, named for St. Porphyrios, a 4th century CE bishop of Gaza.
1967 Postcard from Gaza.
People here feel a deep connection to this soil, whether they were born here or flew in on the morning El Al flight from SFO. There's a reason the unofficial Palestinian anthem is Ibrahim Tuqan (1905-1941)'s poem "Mawki" or "My homeland." ("Glory and beauty, sublimity and splendor / Are in your hills, are in your hills / Life and deliverance, pleasure and hope / Are in your air, are in your air.")
There are few things that everyone agrees about, when it comes to fights over this bit of dirt. Three major religions – four if you add in Baháʼí folks – call it "the Holy Land," so when I was traveling in the region, I sometimes took to calling it that to avoid fights.
One thing everyone agrees on is that the current modern fight over this land is asymmetrical. Now, no one will agree in whose favor it is asymmetrical. Is it "little Israel" against the eight Arab League nations? Is it a tiny Palestinian village now trapped in territory suddenly controlled by an Israeli army that, 19 years before, forced 750,000 Palestinians to flee their homes during what that community calls the Nakba or Catastrophe? The same army that has now conquered land where about a million more Palestinians and other non-Israelis currently live – many of whom are fleeing by the tens of thousands as I write?
(Many of my Palestinian friends still carry the keys to the homes they were forced out of, hanging by cords around their necks. I think about that a lot.)
A Premeditated War
In 1955, in a speech before the Knesset, former Israeli Minister Menachem Begin said:
"I deeply believe in launching preventive war against the Arab states without further hesitation. By doing so, we will achieve two targets: firstly, the annihilation of Arab power; and secondly, the expansion of our territory."
Menachem Begin speaking in 1948 about the Haret, the major conservative nationalist political party he founded. Note the borders of the map behind the assault rifle. Credit: Benno Rothenberg / Meitar Collection / National Library of Israel / The Pritzker Family National Photography Collection / CC BY 4.0.
"Expansion of our territory" brings to mind colonialism; up until fairly recently, some of the founding advocates for a modern state of Israel comfortably used the language of colonialism to justify their project. In Nachman Drosdoff's fascinating 1962 self-published biography of Ahad-Ha'am (one of the foremost pre-state Zionist thinkers) Drossdoff describes a "Lovers of Zion" meeting in Odessa in 1901 where the colonial intentions of those meeting were clear and central to their work.
"The principal reason given for the unsuccessful colonization was that the settlers had too many supervisors and trustees who do not give them the opportunity of becoming self-sustaining and independent. Therefore, the Conference worked out a new, more modern economic system of colonization, according to which every settler would be in a position, during a certain period, to repay his debts and become owner of his own land."Ahad-Ha'am, biography by Nachman Drosdoff. The copy I have has had its cover stripped off and is marked in Hebrew and English: "Not for Sale." It's also dedicated by the author's son, which was a treat to find.
The problem is, there is no part of the Holy Land that is empty: empty of history, empty of culture, empty of language, and certainly not empty of people. A desert is rarely deserted; though the Negev or Sinai can look barren, there are families who traverse it, who know the wells, the stories, the wadis.
Families Flee Fighting
Those families watched as Israeli fighter pilots zoomed overhead in those lovely pictures in the piece above, blasting away at air fields; just as the families in Gaza watched soldiers from the United Arab Republic retreat before Israeli forces last week, leaving terror and questions in their wake.
A family flees Gaza in 1967. Source claims photo was taken on April 29 and labels family as Egyptian. Source: This is available from National Photo Collection of Israel, Photography dept. Government Press Office (link), under the digital ID D328-054.
Just as Minister Begin hoped for 12 years ago, "Arab power" has in many ways been annihilated; and Israel's territory has certainly been expanded. But for the close to a million Palestinians and other non-Israelis now living under Israeli control, what does that mean? Will families no longer be able to fish? Will the call-to-prayer be silenced? Will Israel force more families out of their homes, into camps, into neighboring countries, doubling the number of people made stateless by the what impacted communities would call the Nakba?
Dark Days Ahead for Poets (But Still There is Starshine)
And what will it mean for the poets? For Khairi Mansour, who friends expect to be deported from the West Bank this year? For Salma Khadra Jayyusi, who has stopped writing her second poetry collection because of this war? For Rashid Husain or Tawfiq Zayyad, who have already spent time in Israeli prisons?
There are no available photos of the prison cells where Palestinians are being held in Israel today that I could find; this is of an Israeli-run psychiatric hospital in Acre. Photo taken between 1964-65. Source: Reportage / Serie: Israël 1964-1965: Akko (Acre), Citadel-gevangenis.
It is not just Palestinian poets who I worry for, but Israeli poets and writers too. When Nathan Alterman wrote "Al Zot" ("On That") in the Israeli newspaper Davar in 1948, he was speaking out against violence against Palestinians during the events they would call the Nakba. He wrote:
"Across the vanquished city in a jeep he did speed–
A lad bold and armed, a young lion of a lad!
And an old man and a woman on that very street
Cowered against a wall, in fear of him clad.
Said the lad smiling, milk teeth shining:
"I'll try the machine gun"…and put it into play!
To hide his face in his hands the old man barely had time
When his blood on the wall was sprayed.
We shall sing, then, about "delicate incidents"
Whose name, don't you know, is murder.
Sing of conversations with sympathetic listeners,
Of snickers of forgiveness that are slurred."
When Alterman published his poem, David Ben-Gurion asked for permission to reprint it, to send it as a cautionary tale to Israeli Defense Forces soldiers; could Prime Minister Levi Eshkol do the same today? I worry for Moshe Erem, a Tel Aviv City Councilman, who in 1948 protested against thousands of Palestinian residents being held in barbed-wire encircled camps, saying:
A Palestinian man in Jaffa is trapped behind barbed wire in the neighborhood of al-Ajami. Credit: Israel Defense Forces and Defense Establishment Archive.
"This arrangement will instantly compare Ajami to a closed, sealed ghetto. It is difficult to accept the idea that evokes in us associations of horror…Barbed wire is not a one-time project; it will always be in their vision and will serve as an inexhaustible source of bubbling poison. And for the Jewish residents the wire fence will not add social 'health.' It will increase feelings of foul superiority, and perpetuate separations that we do not want to erect."
Those separations seem even higher than ever, 19 years later, after the battles detailed so carefully above. I wonder how much higher still they will climb with the triumphalist, with-us-or-against-us narratives Israel is spinning about this war. I wonder what room those victory stories leave for peace; for protest; for poetry; for any light to get in at all.
I don't know what will come next. But as I've watched my friends' countries get bombed this past week, I've been thinking a lot about one of Fadwa Tuqan's poems (the still-living sister of the Palestinian poet I quoted at the top). The poem is titled "Face Lost in the Wilderness" and ends:
"A rush and din, flame and sparks lighting the road – one group after another falls embracing, in one lofty death. The night, no matter how long, will continue to give birth to star after star and my life continues, my life continues."
Translated by Patricia Alanah Byrne with help of Salma Khadra Jayyusi and Naomi Shibab Nye.
Between the tragic aftermath of this year's twin space disasters (Apollo 1 and Soyuz 1) as well as the dramatic results from the Lunar Orbiter and Surveyor Moon explorers, it's easy to forget the amazing things being done in Earth orbit.
So here's a little news grab bag of some flights you may have missed over the last several months (and even years, in some cases):
Moscow calling
Two years ago, the Soviets joined the world of comsats with the orbiting of their first Molniya satellite. Launched into an eccentric orbit that takes them up to geosynchronous altitudes but then swooping down to graze the Earth, they work in pairs to facilitate transmissions across the 11 time zones of the Soviet Union.
It's an impressive system–half a ton of satellite broadcasting at 40w of power, more than twice that of the Intelsat "Early Bird" satellites. Unfortunately for the Soviets, it's also been a balky system. Both of the first two satellites stopped working within a year, Molniya 1B failing to keep station in space. It's a bad thing when your comsat moves out of position! This is something more likely to happen in an eccentric orbit than in a more-stable geosynchronous orbit where a satellite goes around the Earth once every 24 hours, remaining more or less stationary (except for a little figure eight over the course of the day) from the perspective of the ground observer. Worse, because the Molniyas scrape so close to the Earth, it doesn't take much to send them careening into the atmosphere, which happened to 1B March 17, 1967.
Still, the Soviets prefer their odd orbit because it's ideal for their purposes (giving coverage to Eurasia) and, I suspect, requires less booster power. And it still carries the satellites high enough to return photos like this one, shot by Molniya 1A last year–the first all-Earth photo ever:
Molniya 1C was launched on April 25 last year, Molniya 1D on October 20. They were replacements for their non-functioning companions. But Molniya 1C may well have given up the ghost, too. Molniya 1E was launched on May 24, apparently to replace it.
May they solve their teething problems sooner rather than later!
A Pair of Imps
Out beyond the Earth's magnetic field is the sun's domain. High energy plasmas (the "solar wind") and our star's magnetic field fill the vacuum of interplanetary space. Not very densely, to be sure, but with profound effects on the planets and offering clues as to the nature of the stellar furnace that creates them.
It is not surprising that NASA has devoted so many satellites to understanding and mapping this zone given how many spacecraft (including the upcoming Apollos) will travel through it. Explorer 18, Explorer 21, and Explorer 28 were all part of the "Interplanetary Monitoring Program" (IMP). The first two have already reentered, and the last just stopped working a couple of weeks ago. Luckily, virtually uninterrupted service has been maintained thanks to the launches of Explorer 33 and Explorer 34!
Explorer 33
Explorer 33, launched July 1, 1966, was supposed to be the first of the "anchored" IMPs, returning data from the orbit of the Moon (which does not have a magnetic field or radiations of its own). Unfortunately, the satellite was shot into space a bit too rapidly to safely decelerate into orbit around the Moon. Instead, it now has an extremely high (270,000 miles perigee!) but eccentric (low apogee) orbit from which it still can return perfectly good science. Indeed, NASA planned for this eventuality.
Explorer 34
The other Explorer, #34, was just sent up on May 24. It is a more conventional IMP and will pick up where #28 left off.
With four years of continuous data, we now have terrific data sets on the Sun through a good portion of its 11-year cycle, including the recent solar minimum. I look forward to a slew of reports in the Astrophysical Journal over the next few years!
Yes, I read those for fun. Doesn't everyone?
Bright Future
If the IMPs exist to monitor the Sun's output, the Orbiting Solar Observatories' job is to directly watch the Sun. Prior to 1967, two of these giant satellites had been orbited: OSO 1 on March 7, 1962, and February 3, 1965. A third launch was made on August 25 of the same year, but it failed.
Sadly, the OSOs haven't quite provided continuous coverage over the last five years. Still they have returned the most comprehensive data set of solar measurements to date. And, as of March 8, the wiggly needles that mark the collection of data are jiggling again: OSO 3 has been returning data from its nine instruments on all manner of solar radiation–including and especially in the ultraviolet, X-Ray, and cosmic ray wavelengths that are blocked from terrestrial measurement by the Earth's atmosphere.
The timing is perfect–the Sun is just entering its period of maximum output. OSO 3 will not only tell us more about the nearest star, it will report on its interactions with the Earth's magnetic field and the space environment in near orbit.
A Meteoric Rise
The Soviets have been awfully cagey about a lot of their launches. Every couple of weeks, another unheralded Kosmos heads into orbit, stays there for a week, then lands. It's an open secret that they are really Vostok-derived spy satellites that snap shots and return to Earth for film development. This is utterly reprehensible–certainly WE would never do anything like that.
But while many of Communist flights have been hush hush, one subset of their Kosmos series has been pretty open: the weather satellite flights of Kosmoses 122, 144, 149, and 156!
The first of the Soviet meteorological satellites went into space on June 25, 1966, broadcasting for about four months before falling silent. For a while, it seemed the Russkies were going to keep the pretty weather photos to themselves, but on August 18 of last year, they suddenly started sharing data over the Washingon/Moscow "Cold Line"–both visibile and infrared pictures, too. It appears the delay was due to the Soviet reluctance to announce a mission until they're sure of its success. It is entirely possible that some of the unexplained Kosmoses before 122 were failed flights.
Kosmos 122
The picture quality was pretty low at first, probably due to the length of the line the data must be sent over. Improvements were made, and the new stuff is great.
Since 122, the Soviets have launched Kosmos 144 on February 28, 1967, Kosmos 149 on March 21 (it reentered on April 7–a failure of its weather-related mission, but it successfully tested the first aerodynamic stabilizer in orbit), and the latest Kosmos, #156, just went up on April 27, 1967. It is my understanding that photos are being regularly shared with the National Environmental Satellite Service (NESS) in Suitland, Maryland. I don't know if these are revolutionizing our view of the planet given our successful ESSA and NIMBUS programs, but it does give a warm glow of international cooperation.
If the nukes fly, at least we'll know if it's nice weather over their targets…
From the Far East into the Drink
The Japanese have been working their darndest to become the sixth space power (after the USSR, US, UK, France, and Italy). Unfortunately, all of their efforts have thus far come up a cropper.
Their Lambda 4S rocket is the first one capable of launching a satellite into orbit, specifically an ionospheric probe with a 52 pound science package. The problem is the vehicle's fourth stage. The truck-launched Lambda 3 has been pretty much perfected, but when the new engine was put at the top of the stack, everything went to hell.
The successful precursor of the Lambda 4S, the Lambda 3
On September 26, 1966, the first Lambda 4S was lost when the fourth stage attitude control failed. The fourth stage didn't even ignite the second time around on December 20. That happened again on April 13 of this year during the third flight.
It looks like Nissan and JAXA engineers will be going back to the drawing board before trying another flight. Maybe 1968 will be the year the Rising Sun joins the rising sun above the Earth…
What's next?
This summer, our eyes will surely turn beyond the Earth to Earth's twin, the planet Venus, for June marks the latest opportunity to send probes to the second planet at a premium on fuel consumption and payload allowance. You can bet we'll be covering Mariner 5 and Venera 4 when they launch!
Not so for the wargaming world. A year and a half ago, Avalon Hill released its biggest, most complex title to date, and it still remains the monster amongst its hex-and-counter brethren. Blitzkrieg is a truly impressive beast: three mapboards instead of the usual two, 100+ pieces per side (compare to chess' 16 or Afrika Korp's ~50), 16 pages of rules.
Yes, it's sure a big'n–but is it fun? Read on!
Red vs. Blue–2
Nine years ago, Charles Roberts kicked off the board wargaming hobby in a big way with his Tactics 2 (there had been a Tactics (1) released a few years before, but its impact was slight). Tactics 2, like chess, featured two more-or-less identical opponents with no geographical ties to any real world nations. They fought with abstractions of regular forces, all army units. So primitive was this game that it used squares instead of the now-standard hexes (still, paradoxically called "squares") that were a revolution in simulating movement.
Tactics 2 was not a fun game. It was a boring, endless slog.
Blitzkrieg is Tactics 2 done right.
You've still got the two generic countries, in this case "Great Blue vs. Big Red", but now the map is a lot more interesting. In between the two titans are seven "minor countries" that can be occupied for more production potential. There are beaches to land on, deserts to cross, mountain ranges to hole up in, oceans to sail.
And the other armed services aren't just abstractions anymore. The Navy still is, with transport represented simply by the number of troops which can be at sea at any time (and fleets can't shoot each other as they pass by), but now there are Marines (well, Rangers) that can land anywhere as opposed to their GI cousins who must make assaults on beaches only. And there is a profusion of Air Force units: three types of bombers, from the short-ranged assault type to the long-ranged strategic variety, not to mention escorting fighters. There are also airborne units that can fly from airfields and land great distances away–critical to taking farflung strongpoints behind the lines.
Even the Army is heterogenous, with units representing infantry, armor, and artillery (though functionally, they all work the same–the only difference is their movement and combat factors).
Cities are essential to the game: a player can only support 12 combat factors of units for every city controlled. A player who loses cities may find his or her units evaporating without a shot being fired.
The game is won one of two ways: either one side completely destroys all of the other side's units, or (more achievable), one side occupies all of the other side's cities for a turn. A third option says the game can end by negotiated surrender, just like real life. In practice, this is the most common outcome. There comes a point when the end is inevitable, even if it be far off.
Easy to learn, hard to master
Taken individually, none of the rules in Blitzkrieg is particularly challenging. At the base of it all is the standard move, fight sequence of all other Avalon Hill games. The Combat Results Table (CRT) is novel–instead of the standard "Defender/Attacker Eliminated", "Defender/Attacker Retreats", "Exchange" results, both sides have the chance to lose strength points. This means that after every fight, a player is usually "making change", exchanging full strength units for depleted ones. This is more realistic as individual battles rarely destroy entire units.
There are stacking limits (no more than 15 combat strength to a square), terrain modifications (units doubled on defense in towns and mountains), zones of control (units going next to others must stop and fight), replacement units and reinforcement units–all standard stuff.
The new rules aren't too onerous. Invasions work kind of like in D-Day where assaulting units line up on the beach and fight their way ashore. If there's no one defending the beach, they get to zoom inland.
In addition to the aforementioned parachuters, a player can also move 12 units of Army from one city to another–including ones just taken from the enemy that turn. This can be huge.
The Air Force adds a completely new dimension…literally! Tactical bombers add their strength to an attack while strategic bombers bomb completely separately, interdict supply, or reduce towns to rubble. Medium bombers can do either! Fighters engage bombers or each other.
There are even weather, nuke, and sea-based aircraft rules!
Again, none of these are particularly difficult to apprehend. But in order to win the game, all must be employed, and skillfully. Neglect the air capabilities of an opponent in favor of the human wave tactics that won you Stalingrad or Waterloo, and you'll soon find troops behind your lines eating your supply. Neglect the threat of naval invasion, either to your shores, or as a thrust to throw the enemy off balance, and you lose a powerful component of strategy.
So, that's the game, but I haven't answered the original question, have I?
In Practice
At the beginning of the year, we set up the behemoth that is Blitzkrieg for a try. Nominally a two-player game, we decided to make it a four-player game by having two people per side. This makes a match both competitive and collaborative, which I find more fun than a straight head to head. Plus, Janice is smarter than me, so she ensures we don't make dumb mistakes.
Against us were two Travelers, Lorelei and Elijah. Would youthful vigor defeat aged wisdom?
Because of Great Red's proximity to more minor countries, and also because of somewhat better planning, Janice and I were able to take four of the seven minor countries with fewer losses and more quickly than our opponents. This was not decisive, but it didn't help the kids.
Now, with both sides directly facing each other, with troops at sea threatening each other's shores, the question was where the first blows would land.
We quickly identified the largest concentration of Red troops that could be "bottled up". If they could be taken out of the fight, Red would lose much of its offensive capabilities. Accordingly, we landed in force on the middle south, around Curry Bend. A titanic battle began that would take several turns to resolve and suck up more and more forces from both sides.
But what's this? Elijah and Lorelei had paid more attention to the rules than we did. They parachuted across the desert into one of our vacant cities in the northeast and promptly flew in another 12 points of units, which went on to occupy even more of our hinterland! Our rear was open to the wind, our supply threatened.
Well, two could play at that game. We took two of their cities in the northwest and set up hedgehog defenses in the home country. While it was scary to lose several cities, the fact was, we had plenty of formerly neutral nations to supply our units. We were never in any danger of losing troops to supply restrictions.
Great Blue, on the other hand, could not withstand the loss of dozens of combat factors in the south. With their main offensive strength crushed on Turn 5, it was clear that their days as a fighting force were ended. And so we adjourned to watch Star Trek.
After Action Report
I took three things away from this session of Blitzkrieg. The first is what every good general has learned: to crush the enemy, you must destroy their armies in the field. Taking cities is all very nice, but so long as one side is losing more troops each turn than the other, and the number of troops lost exceeds the four replacement units per turn, an inexorable imbalance grows until defeat is inevitable.
Secondly, we determined that Big Red has an inherent advantage over Great Blue. Having a contiguous nation with greater access to more minor countries is an incontrovertible advantage. Not insurmountable for Blue, but worth noting.
Thirdly, yes, this game is a lot of fun. Highly recommended. Just know that it'll take longer than most games! Each team's turn took about half an hour to plan followed by half an hour to play out. Thus, our five turn game (plus setup and learning), took about 12 hours played over several sessions.
But it was worth it!
Join the Fun!
If all this talk of playing general stirs something your bones (and hey, it's a lot more fun and less harmful than actual fighting), you are warmly invited to join our Galactic Journey Wargaming Society. We have been facilitating several play-by-mail games so that even players remote from each other can enjoy a contest: over the summer, we had a smashing good time killing each other in a friendly game of Diplomacy.
And you get a spiffy newsletter! What are you waiting for?
Here we are again in Atlanta, Gateway to the South. Our last visit to the Dogwood City was at the invitation of Georgia Tech, who asked me, as a science fiction writer, to discuss predictions of the future. Particularly, they wanted my opinion on the dangers of overpopulation, pollution, and nuclear annihilation–and what might be done to avoid catastrophe.
The talk went off rather well, and so now I'm at a conference addressing a bevy of biologists on the nascent science of exobiology, or more accurately, how aliens have figured in science fiction, both in our solar system and without.
I must confess, there is a great feeling of accomplishment in being paid good money to talk about the things I love. And the pastries are free, too!
First up, we have the sequel to Dawn in what is clearly a serial by another name (like Poul Anderson's The Star Fox). As such, I will try to judge each piece as part of a great whole.
And what an excellent part! Zelazny returns us to an unnamed world that is nevertheless explicitly not Earth (betrayed by its two moons). Millennia ago, its colonists split into two castes: The Firsts, blessed with psychic powers, have effective immortality by swapping consciousnesses into other bodies. Everyone else lives in enforced medieval squalor patterned after Hindu tradition. The Firsts are, of course, associated with the Indian pantheon.
One rebel First, name of Sam, has styled himself the Buddha and is reintroducing Gautama's creed. In this installment, the First who has made himself Yama, God of Death, arrives at Sam's purple grove to deliver a fatal message from Kali, head of the Firsts.
Just last article, Jessica Dickinson Goodman lamented that there were precious few f&sf stories that didn't derive their settings from a strongly European tradition. Zelazny has shown that the subcontinent is as fertile a source for inspiration as any other. And where Herbert's Persia-as-SF (Dune) fell flat for me, mostly due to Herbert's inexpertise as an author, in the hands of Zelazny, ancient India-turned-scientifiction sparkles. Plus, there's lots of mighty thews-type combat for those who are into that sort of thing (paging Ms. Buhlert.)
Five stars for this segment.
The Royal Road to There, by Robert M. Green, Jr.
The Jackson family is on a seemingly endless freeway, headed for the unveiling of their uncle's will. Said uncle was an eccentric who kept a horse-and-buggy factory going long after the automobile had become ascendant.
In a Twilight Zone-ish bit, the freeway ensnares the family, depositing them in the town his uncle built, where they are presented with a most unique offer, which may just require them to give up their gas-guzzling beast.
Is the story anti-progress? Or does it simply advocate smarter progress? My brother, Lou, still laments the removal of the little red trains that used to knit Los Angeles together. Now, the San Gabriel Valley is a basin of smog and a snarl of endless traffic. If there had been more sensible city planning and incorporation of public transit and rail, perhaps it wouldn't be this way.
Three stars.
Gentlemen, Be Seated, by Charles Beaumont
In the future, comedy is dead. It seems the progressive types who were offended by racial humor and violent slapstick inadvertently caused the extinction of laughter. It's up to a secret society, armed with bad puns and blackface, to restore hope to mankind.
I hate to speak ill of the dead (Beaumont died on my 48th birthday this year), but this story is as bad as it sounds.
One star.
"…But for the Grace of God", by Gilbert Thomas
A predator of the masculine variety comes across a much more capable predator of the feminine variety. A bit too long-winded and predictable to be truly effective, but I appreciate what the author is doing, nevertheless.
Three stars.
Non-Time Travel, by Isaac Asimov
Every so often, the Good Doctor finds himself so at a loss for ideas, that he picks a pointless subject to expound upon. His piece on the International Date Line is pleasant enough, but it could just as easily have been a paragraph long.
Three stars.
The First Postulate, by Gerald Jonas
On a remote Mexican island, where the Mayan tradition still runs strong, the first two deaths due to natural causes in over forty years of worldwide immortality have been reported. The scientific team dispatched there encounters increasing resistance from the locals, who ultimately fire their base to retrieve the corpses. Is it a kind of insanity that drives the indios? Or is it a natural reaction to an unnatural situation?
Readable, vivid, if not particularly memorable. Three stars.
Lastly, another after-the-bomb tale, told from the perspective of a band of bandy youths who encounter a house of the giants. This one is all in the telling, a lovely tale that reminds me of Edgar Pangborn's Davy.
Four stars.
Miles to go before I sleep
So ends a perfectly suitable (with one small exception) issue. My only real complaint is that I finished it on the flight out! Luckily, I've got another book reserved for the flight back, which you'll hear about next month.
In the meantime, please wish me luck for tonight's speech!
The Renaissance Pleasure Faire has really taken off since it first opened in 1963. Sort of a reaction to modern society, it is several acres of the 16th Century surrounded by semi-arid modern Southern California. And as a refuge from the horrors of today (and sanitized to be free of the horrors of yesterday), it has become a prime sanctuary for hippies and other counter-culture freaks to enjoy some solace.
A typical scene–we pretend the "mundanes" aren't there…
And the Journey is no exception!
Iacobus of Constantinople (left) confers with Lord Sir Basil, Count of Argent (me!)
Captain Clara Hawkins (time traveling from the 17th Century) and Lorelei ride unicorns.
Good writers don't grow on trees, but some, like Elijah, play in them.
The whole gang. Note associates Elijah (purple, third from left), Joe (center, back), Abby (gold, center front), Lorelei (to her right), and Tam (second from right).
Living in the Future
The pages of this month's Galaxy also offer an escape, and for the most part, a pleasant one!
Things open with a literal bang. The Leonora Christine, zooming through space at relativistic velocities on a mission of colonization, rams into a small nebula at near light speed. Though the 50 or so crew and scientists are unhurt, the ship has lost its ability to decelerate. It is now doomed to travel through the galaxy and beyond, its tau (or time) compression factor ever increasing, such that the entire life of the universe might pass in a lifetime.
Earth is now long in the past; can the Leonora Christine's complement effect repairs such that they can at least someday cease being a cosmic Flying Dutchman?
by Jack Gaughan
Poul Anderson, when he's got his blood high, fuses science and character better than most (when he's in it for the paycheck, he gets the science right, but the rest is dull as dishwater). The near-light Bussard ramjet concept was explored recently in Niven's The Ethics of Madness, but this gripping tale promises to reward the reader more fully.
Four stars.
Mirror of Ice, by Gary Wright
Gary must have recently watched Grand Prix, for his tale of high-speed bobsledding of the future, with its 10% fatality rate per race, strongly evokes that vivid movie. Or the author is just a big racing fanatic. After all, such was the topic of his last story.
Anyway, perfectly acceptable, if not too memorable; I wonder if he'd originally intended this for Playboy…or Sports Illustrated!
Three stars.
Polity and Custom of the Camiroi, by R. A. Lafferty
A three-person anthropological team investigates the highly libertarian planet of Camiroi. Society there is highly advanced, seemingly utopian, and utterly decentralized. Sounds like a Heinleinesque paradise. However, there are indications that the Terrans are being put on, mostly in an attempt to just get them to leave.
The result is something like what might have happened if Cordwainer Smith and Robert Sheckley had a baby. That'd be one weird tot…but an interesting one.
The Faioli are ethereal beauties who appear in a man's (or a woman's?) last month of life. Or perhaps they are the cause of impending demise. In any event, they pay for the quick mortality with the most pleasant company imaginable, perhaps feeding on the emotional feedback.
Here is the tale of a man living-in-death (or dead in living?) who romances a Faioli and remains to tell about it.
Zelazny is capable of beautiful, effective prose, but sometimes, it seems he just waxes purple and hopes his readers can't tell the difference. This one feels like the latter.
Three stars.
For Your Information: Another Look at Atlantis, by Willy Ley
Mr. Ley, Galaxy's science columnist, is back to form with this quite interesting article on all we know for certain (and it's not much!) about the mythical continent of Atlantis. Worth a read.
Four stars.
Spare That Tree, by C. C. MacApp
by Dennis M. Smith
Inspector Kruger of the Interstellar Division is back (we first saw him in the January issue of IF). This time, he's on the trail of a kidnapped tree, prized possession of an Emperor whom the galactic federation wishes to keep on the good side.
David observed that Laumer or Goulart could do a better job with these tales, and they are, indeed, the authors I was reminded of while reading this piece. It starts out genuinely interesting and funny, but the last half meanders into a whimper.
A high two (or a low three, depending on your mood).
Howling Day, by Jim Harmon
In this epistolary, an agent keeps sending a spec script to the wrong kinds of publishing houses. They all appreciate the quality of the work, but it's not quite right for what they put out. Which makes sense–turns out it's not a spec script at all…
I found this one a bit tedious and old-fashioned. Two stars.
From the center of the galaxy comes Phthsspok, a super-intelligent, highly determined alien looking for a long lost colony. He has reason to believe it is Earth…or was, hundreds of thousands of years ago. Phthsspok is a Protector, with armored hide and hyper-reflexes. Utterly beyond human capabilities.
Except, when Phthsspok runs across and kidnaps Jack Brennan, a Belter in his middle-40s, the connection between Protectors and humanity turns out to be closer than anyone expected.
Set in the same time and setting as World of Ptavvs, and featuring Lucas Garner and Lit Schaeffer from that book, The Adults is a fascinating read. And it offers the compelling question: would you trade your sex and your outward humanity at age 45 for the privilege of immortality and extreme intellect?
Forty-four year olds in the audience, are you reading?
Wrapping things up, we have a new twist on The Puppet Masters. It's mildly intriguing, and I am always happy to see De Vet's name, but ultimately, the story doesn't quite go anywhere.
Three stars.
Return to Reality
What a nice weekend that was! First centuries past, then centuries to come. I'm not sure I'm ready to face Vietnam, another summer of protests, or a second season of The Invaders.
Oh look! The June issuse of Fantasy and Science Fiction has arrived. Just in time…
In the days of the Gold Rush, the Forty-Niners staked out the most promising spots in the hopes of striking it rich. They set out across thousands of miles, making harrowing overland or overseas trips to California, setting wobbly feet in the land that would soon be The Golden State, hoping that a survey of their claimed land would be a promising one.
Two Surveyors have made their way to the Moon, the second of which (Surveyor 3–Surveyor 2 didn't make it) has just broken ground on our celestial neighbor.
While we can't pan for gold on the Moon (and, indeed, if there is a precious resource we're hoping to find there, it's water), Surveyor did spread lunar soil on a white surfaced background. This has allowed geologists…well, selenologists now…to make tentative guesses as to the composition of the Moon. More importantly, it has been categorically shown that the lunar surface is solid and can be landed upon by Apollo astronauts! Together with the photos from the several Lunar Orbiter spacecraft, the Sixty-Niners will have a good lay of the lunar land they'll be exploring.
By the way, the first Apollo crew has been chosen. These are the folks originally slated for Apollo 2, an orbital flight that would have flown a few months after the tragically lost mission of Apollo 1.
They are Walter M. Schirra, Donn F. Eisele, and R. Walter Cunningham. The first name should be a well known to readers; the other two are rookies from the third group of astronauts, folks recruited specifically for Apollo. It is unlikely that their flight will take place before 1968, and there will be at least one more manned test before the big jump to the Moon. There's currently even talk of a trip around the Moon before a landing attempt.
To Timidly Creep
The latest issue of Analog isn't bad, per se. It's just more of the same. I suppose it's a winning formula to keep doing what works, but I expect a little more innovation from my scientifiction.
by Kelly Freas
Of Terrans Bearing Gifts, by Richard Grey Sipes
Things don't start promisingly. We last saw Mr. Sipes in a truly awful epistolary piece a couple of years back. In his sophomore work, a smug Terran trader, name of Winslow, arrives at planet Nr. 126-24 Wilson Two, UTCC, and proceeds to turn things upside down. His store for sale includes a teleporter, an instant translator, a nuclear nullifier, a matter duplicator, and much more.
It's all really smug, which I suppose it's possible to be when you're wielding Godlike power. Winslow justifies his toppling of Wilson Two's society by noting less scrupulous folks will show up sooner or later and do the same thing. It still doesn't make the story fun reading.
Terran linguists assigned to the planet Marshak III are convinced that the indigenous apex animals are sapient, language-using beings. But since they can't decipher the language they use, an interstellar rest stop construction concern is going to come in, claim the planet, and pave over the preferred lands of the aborigines.
It's up to Lieutenant Commander Andrew Doyle to solve the linguist riddle and save the day.
For a Chris Anvil story, particularly one appearing in Analog, it's not bad. Sure, it begins with "[Rank] [Man Name] strode onto the scene…" like virtually every other Anvil story. Yes, the ending paragraphs seem custom made to tickle editor Campbell's fancy (and guarantee a sale). But I liked the puzzle, and it was reasonably well written.
Three stars.
Burden of Proof, by Bob Shaw
by Kelly Freas
There's one ray of bright light in this issue, if I may be indulged the pun. Scottish author Bob Shaw offers up a sequel of sorts to his promising story, Light of Other Days. In this one, he explores the criminological effects of his "slow glass", a substance that rebroadcasts all of the light received from a certain time over that length of time. It is the perfect impartial eyewitness to any crime–provided one is willing to wait long enough to get it (a "ten year" pane might well not disgorge its evidence for a decade, and no speed-ups possible).
This particular tale is told from the viewpoint of a judge, who sent a man to the chair for murder…on circumstantial evidence. What if the eyewitness pane of slowglass, due to show the actual scene ten years after, says something contrary? Is it a miscarriage of justice? Can justice wait a decade?
I particularly liked this tale for questions it raises. It might not be slow glass, but certainly some other technology will arise in the future, like a perfect polygraph or enhancements in fingerprinting, may cause old evidence to be superseded. Does justice wait for these improvements? Can it? And how irrevocable is a decision made on an imperfect data set?
Shaw still is a little clunky in incorporating the explanations of his technologies. Nevertheless, he has a deft, romantic touch to his writing, sorely needed in his magazine. I'm glad Campbell found him. Four stars.
Target: Language, by Lawrence A. Perkins
Mr. Perkins discusses the differences between a variety of languages, and the commonality that may underlie them all. I don't buy his idea that humans develop an internal language that they then translate/adapt to the local vernacular, but it is clear that our species instinctively picks up language at an early age, and what it doesn't learn, it creates on the fly.
If nothing else, it's one of the most readable pieces I've yet encountered in Analog, and on a subject quite interesting to me (and I can verify much of what he says, having studied Russian, Spanish, Japanese, and Hebrew).
Four stars.
Dead End, by Mike Hodous
by Kelly Freas
Did you ever read The Man Who Never Was? It's the engaging true tale of how the British hoodwinked the Nazis into thinking the Allied invasion would go through Sardinia rather than Sicily. It involved seeding a corpse, dressed in a Major's uniform and handcuffed to a briefcase full of forged documents, off the coast of Spain. He was picked up, turned over to German agents, and the story was swallowed, hook, line, and sinker.
Dead End involves a Terran spaceship disabled by belligerent aliens, the capture and investigation of which is certain to give them the secret to our faster-than-light. Or lead them down a blind technological alley…
It's an eminently forgettable story, not helped by the aliens being human in all but name (and extra pair of legs), and the humans being smug in the Campbellian tradition.
At last, the exploits of Barney Henderson, movie producer extraordinaire, come to a close. As expected, the only reason there is archaeological evidence of a Viking settlement in Vinland is because Climax Productions made a movie starring Vikings in Vinland. The whole thing is a circle with no beginning and no end.
It's a compelling thought, further exemplified by a piece of paper that switches hands endlessly between two iterations of Barney. When did it start? Who initially drew the diagram on the paper? Of course, unsaid is the fact that, after endless passings back and forth, the paper should disintegrate…
If the first installment was a bit too silly and the second rather engaging, this third one feels perfunctory. Harrison tells us how the film got done, but the whole thing is workmanlike. Not bad, just a bit sterile. Also, given then carnage involved in the making of the film, I would have preferred a more farcical tone or a more serious one. The middle-of-the-road path makes light of the horror of first contact and the bloodshed that stemmed therefrom, and it taints the whole story.
So, three stars for this segment and three and a half for the book as a whole.
Summing Up
What a lackluster month this was! The outstanding stuff would barely fit a slim volume of a single digest. Analog garnered a sad (2.9) stars. It is only beaten by Fantasy and Science Fiction (3), and it very slightly edges out IF (2.9) and Fantastic (2.9)–they rounded up to 2.9, while Analog rounded down. The last issue of Worlds of Tomorrow (2.4) is left in the dust. We won't have WoT to kick around anymore…
Women wrote 7.41% of the new fiction this month–dismal, but par for the course. On the other hand, we've got a new star in the screenwriting heavens in the form of Star Trek's D.C. Fontana. Perhaps TV is where the new crop of STF women will grow.
In any event, I've already gotten a sneak preview of next month's IF. We have a stunning new Delany to look forward to. Stay tuned!
The Enterprise is checking upon the farflung colony of Deneva, which hasn't sent out a message in a year. One million souls are thus feared for. Captain Kirk has a personal reason to be worried–his brother and his family reside on this planet.
Starfleet's finest head for an interview at TRW.
Their fears are soon realized. Beaming down to the planet, Kirk and co. determine that the entire population has been taken over by parasitic pancakes, who use pain to ensure their hosts to their bidding. They have apparently been waiting for the day a starship came a-calling, so that they could continue their rampage through the universe (why they didn't use the ship they came in is never explained…) While investigating the planet's surface (again, only the most expendable personnel are sent, including Kirk, Spock, McCoy, and Scotty), Mr. Spock is infected by one of the alien invaders.
"Ooo! That smarts!"
Kirk's brother, Sam, is dead, and his sister-in-law, Aurelian, taken aboard the Enterprise for treatment, soon perishes. But Kirk's nephew, the Denevan populace, and Spock may yet be saved. McCoy and the scientists in the Enterprise's 14 science labs throw the book at a monstrous specimen that Spock secures from the planet. No dice. No amount of radiation, heat, or anything else will destroy these critters (or at least, nothing that will destroy them and not also the host.)
There is a clue, however. One Denevan took a shuttlecraft into the sun. Before he burned up, he announced that he was "free" of the alien. This is the clue Kirk needs (and everyone else misses). Apparently McCoy only thought to use infrared (heat) and very high energy radiation (microwaves and X-Rays) since the captain deduces that visible light is the key to killing the beings.
Spock volunteers to enter a light chamber and be subjected to a zillion candles of light. It kills his parasite, but also leaves him quite blind. Turns out they didn't need to use the whole spectrum of visible light. Only the invisible spectrum of invisible light.
Yes, I was confused, too.
"We've tried everything! Heat! Radiation!" "What about… light?" "Yes, Jim. I said we tried radiation. You think we're stupid?"
Turns out the key wavelength is ultraviolet light. Correct me if I'm wrong, but that's generally lumped in with "radiation", but perhaps McCoy was being extremely narrow in his definition. Anyway, Kirk dumps a bunch of "tri-magnesite" ultraviolet beacons in orbit around Deneva and sets them off. The radiation (that isn't radiation) is so intense that it even kills the parasites that are indoors, but doesn't manage to bake the colonists (maybe the only ones who survived were Black…)
Anyway, there is a lot to enjoy about the episode, from Nimoy's performance (see below) to the absolutely stunning setting (the TRW campus, from which were monitored the space probes of Pioneers 0, 1, 2 and 5, Explorer 6, and the Orbiting Geophysical Observatories).
But the science is ridiculous, even for television. Really Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea stuff. The title is one of the least inspired of the series, too.
It's a bit of a shame that this is the episode that concludes the first season. Nevertheless, the strength of the others we've seen this season suggests we're in for a great time come fall. And in any event, it's certainly not "The Alternative Factor".
Three and a half stars.
Operation: Indecision!
by Jessica Dickinson Goodman
Captain Kirk seemed to be of two – or more! – minds in "Operation: Annihilate!" His curiosity wars with his concern for his ship's safety early in the episode when the Denevan vessel hurls itself into the sun; his fear for his brother Sam and his sister-in-law Aurelean's safety on Deneva competes with his commitment to civility with his crew, leading him to snap at Lieutenant Uhura in a moment of uncharacteristic and uncaptainly unkindness. (To her credit, Uhura responds with complete professionalism and competence.)
But his deepest conflict becomes clear when Commander Spock and Kirk's nephew Peter become the prey of the fleshy flying flapjacks that served as this episode's villains. Kirk watches as Spock is consumed by pain, overwhelmed by it, then fiercely begins to resist it using his Vulcan training. This moment encapsulates the sweet tension that gives this episode its flavor:
Captain Kirk: "I need you, Spock, but we can't take any chances. We'll keep you confined for a while longer. If you can maintain control, we'll see. My nephew. If he regains consciousness, will he go through that?"
Dr McCoy: "Yes."
Kirk: "Help them. I don't care what it takes or costs. You've got to help them."
McCoy: "Jim, aren't you forgetting something? There are over a million colonists on that planet down there, just as much your responsibility. They need your help, too."
"I need you, Spock."
Though Kirk brings up his nephew's fate throughout the episode, it is his relationship with Spock – and his fear for his well being – that drives much of the action. This episode, more than many others, gives us language for that relationship from both Dr McCoy and Kirk himself: "affection," "best first officer in the fleet," "need," someone McCoy needs to "take care of." The look of devastation on Captain Kirk's face when he realizes that Spock might have been permanently injured was powerful, though it did make me wonder if Star Fleet can be so advanced if it has no clear accommodations for blind people. I would hope for more from the future.
"Who put this #$&@ table here?"
Like the other reviewers, I found the science in this episode silly; I kept getting hung-up on how the Ingrahamians were flying in the first place and whether we were supposed to see them as a devious hivemind or a reactive predator. But Kirk's conflict was delicious, the acting was great fun, and it made me check my TV Guide for when the next season starts. See you all back here again in September!
Three stars.
Operation: Genocide!
by Joe Reid
If there is anything that I learned from this week’s episode of Star Trek, it is that Vulcanians are strong and powerful life forms with amazing physical and mental gifts. "Vulcans" on the other hand are the discount Woolworth's version of Vulcanian. I seem to remember that when Mr. Spock was a Vulcanian, he could read the mind of an alien lifeform, get to know that lifeform’s intentions and desires, and find a way to help it. Remember just a few short weeks ago, on the episode, “Devil in the Dark ", where Spock saved a misunderstood creature from the humans that were going to exterminate them? Now in “Operation: Annihilate!”, creatures, intelligent creatures no less, are no longer afforded the benefit of the doubt to be misunderstood. They can only be annihilated.
Woolworth's – discount Vulcans available now…while supplies last!
Dear reader, please forgive my jeering of Spock. As a character, I find him to be a standout and thoughtful character most of the time. Apart from the limited nature of the abilities that he displayed in this episode, I normally find him compelling to watch. The problem that I had with this episode was the handling of the creatures themselves. The nameless, formless, flying, buzzing, lumps of Horta excrement, that conquered 3 planets and had the amazing power to control men and make them build ships. This seems like an intelligent species that is after something. I find myself truly wondering what it was. “Operation: Annihilate!”, completely ignores that, just following along with the dictate presented by the title.
The episode starts out with a mystery. Mass insanity is gripping entire populations on planets and jumping to other planets, and no one knows why. The best sci-fi takes us on a journey of discovery, to find out the whys of whatever the writer has brought to us. This week, we viewers start down a path and are presented with a creature that has more abilities than any that we have seen on the show thus far. It is invisible to scanning. As stated before, it flies, directs populations to do their bidding, and buzzes like a honeybee, for crying out loud.
"I suddenly have a craving for pancakes with honey syrup…"
Kirk and the others at one point of the episode suppose that this creature may be part of a larger organism that exists in a great beyond. After being presented with so many proofs of intelligence, it is disappointing that the crew of the Enterprise, so intent on meeting new life forms, drives forward towards destruction over discovery. Towards demonization of actions, over deconstruction of intent. Towards annihilation over understanding.
This creature had the potential to be one of the, if not the most interesting and complex creatures that we could have witnessed in the cosmos. Instead, these single celled marvels are treated like a disease in need of penicillin. What a waste. If only a proper Vulcanian were present this week, something could have been made from the unsolved mysteries left unexplored in this episode.
2 stars
Operation: Vulcanalia!
by Abigail Beaman
As it turns out, Vulcans are not just pointy-eared humanoids with very little variation to their anatomy compared to humans. We learn an awful lot about Spock's people from this latest episode. Now we did know a few things. One of the earliest examples is that Spock’s blood isn’t a red color, but instead green. This is due to Vulcans' blood being copper-based instead of iron-based like our human blood. But thanks to this episode, not only do we learn more about Vulcans, but we might have learned just how secretive Vulcans are about themselves with other races.
So much to this man…
In "Operation: Annihilate!", we discover that Vulcans in fact have two sets of eyelids, after Spock recovers from blindness caused by the light that kills an invasive alien parasite living inside him. Similar (I guess) to felines, Vulcans adapted these inner eyelids to protect their eyes from the harsh and unforgiving sun on the planet, Vulcan. This allows our first mate, Mister Spock to regain his eyesight after the exposure to 1,000,000 candles per square inch. Yet then an eyebrow may raise, as earlier in the episode when he first loses his sight, Bones blames himself. Bones is sure the damage is permanent and nothing could have saved Mister Spocks’ eyes. Bones not knowing that Mister Spock has two sets of eyelids initially really bugged me. Isn't he the ship's Chief Medical Officer? But maybe it's not his fault that Spock's internals are unknown to him. Maybe Vulcans keep their racial anatomy secret. That would explain why McCoy is so irritated all the time–his patient keeps holding vital information from him!
"I blame myself." "I blame you, too!"
Now I’m not saying this episode was good. For the most part, I actually felt very unhappy that this is the episode season one had to end on (hopefully season two will continue on with good episodes like “The Devil in the Dark” or “Shore Leave”). I do in fact feel that the anatomy Daugherty comes up with within this episode is a cop-out to ensure a somewhat happy ending. [Note: Daugherty is the Director. Carabatsos is the writer–those darn credits flash by so fast! (ed)].
Yet something I would also like to point out is Leonard Nimoy’s acting of the stoic and computerized Mister Spock fighting the human emotion, pain. Throughout the episode, after Mister Spock is infected, he tries everything in his Vulcan power to deny the pain he is in. Leonard Nimoy really shows this struggle that Spock faces; his creeps rather than strides, his voice is harsh, and every once in a while, he seems to twitch in pain. It sent shivers down my spine. I was very enthralled by Leonard Nimoy (well at least more than usual) by his acting in this episode. It was probably one of, if not the only saving grace in this episode for me (well also Scotty about to shoot Spock; remind me next time when I wanna pick a fight with him).
"Freeze, Mr. Spock!"
This episode left me empty inside, and for that, I have to rate it pretty low.
Two and a half stars.
Operation: Copycat!
by Erica Frank
The aliens in "Operation: Annihilate!" are obviously inspired by Heinlein's classic, The Puppet Masters, but the differences are definitely for the worse. These aliens don't attach themselves to humans—they sting them once, injecting them with "tentacles" that spread throughout the nervous system. This allows them to control people through pain—pain so bad it can kill. It's unclear how the aliens coordinate their efforts and communicate with each other. (Looks like more evil telepathy. Sigh.) It's also unclear what the aliens themselves do after their planetary takeover, other than flutter around in shady spaces.
These aliens have been moving through planets, causing "mass insanity" and destruction for several hundred years. If the pain immediately killed people, they wouldn't last long enough to reach new worlds. So it seems only the ones who resist control are in danger, or they'd be like a virus that burns out its host before it has a chance to transfer.
Because of this, I doubt Peter—Kirk's nephew—was at risk of death. Rather, he'd likely succumb to the alien control. He'd wake up surrounded by strangers, only to be told his parents are dead. He might well give up fighting entirely; he'd have no reason to push through the pain. So it's unclear why Kirk needs to find an immediate solution.
This episode brings too many questions. While it's common for science fiction to leave possibilities for the reader or viewer to ponder, in this case, the potential answers often make no sense.
We're supposed to believe large tentacles like these are spread throughout the nervous system… without being visible through the skin? And that removing them wouldn't stop the pain? In that case, what's causing the pain?
Kirk should be able to just declare the planet off-limits, infected, and sabotage its space travel while bringing in a full scientific team. Or will the pain quickly kill people? …In which case, how did the aliens last long enough to get to new worlds, and how have they taken over only a handful of planets in several hundred years? Or are there dozens of others we don't know about?
If they haven't been going through dozens of planets, what have they been doing for those hundreds of years? Do infected humans eventually "hatch" into a swarm of flappy blob aliens that can infect new people? Or do the flappy-blob versions reproduce on their own, with the injected hosts eventually dying along with their tentacles? Do the injected people reproduce normally, and have alien-controlled babies? (Eew.) Or will each child need to be infected?
Regarding their destruction: If they stick to shaded areas, how will bombarding the planet with ultraviolet light reach them? Any of them that are inside buildings will be safe. (And in the meantime, the entire human populace will have very bad sunburns.)
Two stars. While the aliens were interesting and the underlying ideas were good (which makes sense; they were based on a terrific book), the plot itself was disjointed and incoherent. I was more intrigued by McCoy's frequent wardrobe changes than the story itself.
Summer reruns have begun! Join us tonight at 8:30 PM (Eastern and Pacific) for the pilot that sold the series: "Where No Man Has Gone Before!
Last weekend, the world's greatest stars and movie-makers assembled in Santa Monica for the annual celebration of the best the silver screen has to offer. It was a cavalcade of prominent names, from Sidney Poitier to Lee Remick to Julie Christie to Omar Sharif. Some of the contestants were unfamiliar (Herb Alpert has a short animated film?) Some were surprising but welcome in their inclusion (like The Wargame for best documentary). Some were inevitable (If Grand Prix hadn't won Best Sound and Best Editing, I'd have written letters…) Two titans towered all the rest (Who's Afraid of Virginia Wolf and A Man for All Seasons–both of which I still haven't seen yet).
And throughout it all, Bob Hope was host, narrator, and satirist. Lorelei observed that this time, the jokes about recognition still eluding the aging comedian seemed more pointed and bitter than usual. Maybe it's time he got some kind of lifetime achievement award, as did Isaac Asimov at a recent Worldcon…
Print City
The latest issue of Fantasy and Science Fiction features a similar assemblage of luminaries–and it's not even an "All-Star Issue"! Presented in a format that has been standard and familiar since 1949, this month's read was as comforting and entertaining as two primetime hours at the Oscars.
With the added benefit that one can reread favorite stories!
by Ronald Walotsky
Planetoid Idiot, by Phyllis Gotlieb
Our first star is Phyllis Gotlieb, a woman writer who joined the SF ranks one year after Mses. Rosel George Brown, Kit Reed, and Pauline Ashwell. Her latest is a fine novella in the Analog tradition–indeed, it reads like something Katherine MacLean might have penned.
A mutli-species spaceship has landed on the ocean planed of Xirifor. Their goal is to save the indigenous race from a pandemic of gill rot such that they can better represent themselves when representatives of the Galactic Federation come to negotiate for the pearls the aliens harvest.
The crew of the contact ship are a beautifully heterogenous group: Hrufa, an eight foot telepathic amphibian is their leader, keeping the rest of the team in order, if not harmony. Thlyrrh is a protoplasmic being with a shape-shifting carapace; it can do almost anything…except compose an original thought. And then there are the two humans, or "solthrees" (I really like that phrase): Olivia the exobiologists, and Berringer, the generalist.
Despite their vast collective knowledge, they are hindered in their task by politics, internal and external. But in the end, working together, they deduce a solution that is completely scientific and plausible.
It's all very satisfactory, and if I have any complaint, it is only the title, which I found misleading (I thought "planetoid idiot" would be a play on "village idiot"). Definitely a candidate for the next volume of Rediscovery.
Four stars.
Sleeping Beauty, by Terry Carr
It's nice to see Ace Books publisher, Terry Carr, slinging the pen again. His latest story is a beautifully written if rather inconsequential tale of a landless prince, galloping across Europe looking for that most endangered of modern creatures: the single (and wealthy) princess. There is, of course, a sting in the story's tale.
You'll forget it soon after you read it, but you'll enjoy the journey. Three stars.
If Ralph Nader has his way, all cars of the future will be like the one presented in this, the latest tale to take place in Niven's "Known Space". It's his most humorous piece, almost Sheckleyesque, and it accomplishes a lot in a brief space.
Two years ago, Air Force astronaut Chet Kinsman was tested in orbit when he had to go mano-a-mano with a Communist spacewoman. Now Kinsman is on the moon, haunted by the memory of the lady he had to slay. Will his guilt get in the way of his rescuing a fellow astronaut trapped in a lunar crevice?
This is another grounded SF tale I'm surprised (but pleased) to find in F&SF. I've not yet found Bova brilliant (though Victoria Silverwolf has), but I always enjoy him.
Three stars.
The Red Shift, by Theodore L. Thomas
Thomas explains in his nonfiction vignette how quasars, which must be extragalactic yet near objects, give lie to the Doppler shift, and thus rewrite physics. Specifically, he says that the redshift of quasars indicates that they are far away, but that radio astronomy locates them much closer to Earth.
I do not know how he makes this assertion, as it is radio astronomy that detects these quasars at all–including their red shift. According to the article I read in Britannica's 1966 year book of knowledge, quasars are very interesting in that they point up an asymmetry between the young universe (quasar-rich) and the curent universe (quaser-poor). But there's nothing that suggests quasars exist close by, or that there's anything wrong with Doppler.
There does seem to be something wrong, however, with Thomas.
One star.
Cyprian's Room, by Frances Oliver
Onward to the second woman-penned story, by an author about whom our editor knows virtually nothing. A pity, because her first story is a good one. Romantic Hilda Wendel takes a room in the big city hoping to meet someone interesting in her boarding house. She finds a tubercular artist whose views on art are maddeningly contradictory, yet irresistably compelling.
Is he just an avante-garde…or something otherworldly?
A high three.
Interview with a Lemming, by James Thurber
This putative dialogue between man and lemming, to indulge in adjectives solely beginning with "i" is inconsequential, irritating, and inspid–particularly the thinks-itself-clever ending.
Two stars.
Where is Thy Sting, by Emil Petaja
One of the last fertile men in a post-atomized Earth, racked with suicidal desires, must be kept alive at all costs, even if it means subverting his reality.
I'd have liked this story more had I not read one so similar to it (The Best is Yet to Be) in the pages of this same magazine not many months before.
Two stars.
Times of Our Lives, by Isaac Asimov
All about time zones. I actually found this atlas-derived article educational and interesting.
Four stars.
Fill in the Blank, by Ron Goulart
Finally, the return of a perennial star with a series with more installments than James Bond. Max Kearney is dragooned into investigating what appears to be an infestation of poltergeists. The culprits are all-too-temporal…but it doesn't mean magic's not involved!
It's funnier in the latter half. Three stars.
House Lights Return
By strict mathematical computation, the latest F&SF only scores an average three star rating. Nevertheless, the brilliance of the first piece, the general competence of most of the rest, and the edification provided by the Good Doctor leaves a most pleasant impression.
Let's keep our stars around for a while. They make good illumination.
Star Trek offered a mirror to our present day world of Cold War tensions with its latest episode, "Errand of Mercy".
The episode begins with two mighty star nations, the United Federation of Planets ("a democracy") and the Klingon Empire ("brutal, savage") about to go to war. And not a border skirmish, but a full on, fleet vs. fleet conflict that may see one of the parties laid to heel.
In between them, strategically located, is the planet of Organia. Its inhabitants are humanoid, seemingly primitive. As chance would have it, the Enterprise gets there before the Klingons, and Kirk (accompanied by Spock) attempts to persuade the Organians to accept a Federation protectorate, in exchange for defense, technology, education, and other benefits of enlightened society.
The Organians rebuff a bemused Kirk, assuring him that there is no danger. Whereupon the Klingons arrive, quickly establishing a military governorship. Unable to convince the Organians to fight for their freedom, Kirk and Spock attempt a two-man resistance effort. They are quickly sold out by the Organians, but then rescued from prison by the self-same natives. The Klingon Commander, Kor, orders the slaughter of 200 Organians every hour until they are returned. Again, the Organians assure our heroes that nothing amiss is occurring.
Ultimately, two mighty battle fleets square off in the vicinity of Organia. This proves to be the last straw. The people of Organia demonstrate heretofore unseen power, their spokesman, Ayelborne, appearing in person on the Klingon and Federation homeworlds, announcing the immobilization of all combatants.
The Organians reveal their true power
In a nice moment, Kirk and Kor express their outrage at not being allowed to settle their differences through war. They quickly come around when it is clear they have no choice. In the final act, Kirk broods over his belligerence, feeling much chagrined. Spock explains that they have many millennia to go before they, too, can become Gods.
We've seen many episodes where the Enterprise meets much more advanced races: "Charlie X", The Squire of Gothos", "The Corbomite Maneuver", "Arena", "Shore Leave". Some might even be tired of the theme (I am not–we should expect half of the beings we encounter to be far beyond us; cosmic timescales favor this). But "Errand of Mercy" is the best of this type of show we've seen so far, illuminating our frailties as a species beautifully.
"Errand" is aided by some of the best casting we've seen in the show. John Abbott imbues Ayelborne with dignity and strength, suffused with a penetrating mildness. And John Colicos, who I've seen before on Mission: Impossible, is affably delightful as Commander Kor. By turns irritated and almost entreating, Kor comes across as, if anything, a lonely man. He is isolated by his rank, by his position as an obvious intellectual and aesthete in an Empire of thugs. Kor seems to want nothing more than to have a friend, and the only person who might qualify is his mortal enemy, Captain Kirk. To echo Mr. Spock, "fascinating."
I appreciated the justifications for war laid out by both sides, as they appealed to Ayleborne to allow them to continue their fight. The Klingons, Kirk says, raided planets. The Federation, Kor insists, was hemming the Klingons in, cutting them off from territory that had always been theirs. Yes, the American/Soviet parallels are strong (to the point that Kor boasts that the Klingons will win due to their unswerving dedication to their state, and their positions as cogs in its system). Juanita Coulson, in the latest Yandro, praised the show for its economy of writing, how much they back into almost throwaway lines. This episode does a lot with a little. In this, they are aided by director John Newland, who did most of this year's excellent (but abortive) spy show, The Man Who Never Was.
And Sulu took the center seat again!
There were some complaints voiced about the show during our viewing. Two observed that Kirk was too quick to take the Organians at face value, asking the wrong questions (when he asked any) as to why they felt so secure. To that, I note that 1) Kirk is, as he says in the episode, "a soldier, not a diplomat"; his behavior is entirely consistent with what we've seen in prior episodes (viz. "The Squire of Gothos" and "Arena"). 2) A war had just been declared, with shots already fired. Kirk's focus was, shall we say, narrow. This also may explain why Spock was unusually accommodating in his impromptu guerrilla role.
Indeed, that's what I love about this episode. The Organians put themselves into a form humans can understand, and yet it's still not enough. Both Kirk and Kor (an intentional similarity of names?) are irritated with these beings who do not behave as they "should". The only beings with whom they share any common ground are each other!
"In another life, I could have called you 'friend'. Wait. Wrong episode.
Another viewer noted that the Federation, as American analogs, would have simply taken Organia, as the Klingons ultimately did (or tried). And perhaps they would have. I like to think the humans (and Vulcans) are better than that. At the very least, Kirk tried to persuade them peacefully. But given the deliberate portrayal of the Klingons as the Federation through a glass darkly, I think the viewer may have had a point. And probably one intended to be gotten by the writer.
Speaking of which, Gene L. Coon is a name that has popped up several times recently. Between writers Coon and D.C. (Dorothy) Fontana, it does seem that Star Trek is reaching a consistent maturity. Gone are references to "Earth" (though the "Federation" has a single homeworld, per Ayelborne the Organian). The show seems to have settled on "Vulcan" over "Vulcanian". The characters are firmly established.
With the arrival of the Organians, one wonders if the character of the show will change drastically. Are the Organians a galactic phenomenon, or do they only care about their sector of space? That they didn't intervene in the war with the Romulans suggests the latter. If the Organians are strictly local, will the Federation and Klingons find other frontiers to fight about?
I can't wait to find out! Five stars.
A Peaceful Fantasy
by Jessica Dickinson Goodman
I've written before about alien cultures reacting to Federation colonialism – from the Horta last week to the Gorn a few weeks before. In this episode, we got to see what Captain Kirk hoped was the beginning of if not colonization, then as Gideon puts it, "protectorate status."
And we saw the Organians gently reject this and all such overtures. Over and over again, we hear varions of of, "Captain, I can see that you do not understand us. Perhaps…" and "We are in no danger."
"Mellow out, man. Everything's cool!"
At first, like Captain Kirk, I thought the Organians unbearably naive. But it turns out that Captain Kirk, and I, were arrogant. They were in no danger; capable of unilaterally ending a war that promised galaxy-wide devastation with a thought. They were ably prepared to defend themselves and the two societies who so wished to do violence around them.
Of all of the god-like aliens we have seen, I liked these the best. No capricious squires or whiny, cruel children; the Organians had a philosophy, the discipline to live by it, and the power to ensure they remained unbothered by outside forces while on their paths. I can imagine the Horta or the Gorn would have envied those powers, though as Commander Spock pointed out, "it took millions of years for the Organians to evolve into what they are. Even the gods did not spring into being overnight."
Spock comforts Jim for being a primitive.
I find these forms of power fantasies deeply satisfying. Every day, we see the power of violence, of guns, of bombs, of war. To see, if only for a few, technicolor minutes, a power to stop war? To prevent violence? To ensure cultural continuity and security in the face of attempts to colonize? That is a fantasy I enjoy a great deal. Lest I sound too star-struck, I will note that I would have preferred to see any Organian women, any evidence of many cultures mixing together, of creativity, of growth, rather than the mild stasis that seemed to characterize their society. But for what it was, it was good to see.
Just don't ask me to live there.
Four stars.
An Actually Superior Superiority
by Elijah Sauder
In this episode of Star Trek, we saw not just the most powerful god-like-beings we have seen, but also the most compelling. In our previous encounters, the god-like-beings' powers were potent, but only in a localized region of space. In this episode the Organians immobilized the entire Space Force and Klingon Empire’s armies. To quote (approximately) Kirk, “We never had a chance; the Organians raided the game.”
"Mooom! He started it!"
As humans we want to feel in control and to exert such control through whatever means necessary; we meddle, we fight. But the Organians did not exhibit the same behavior. They expressed disgust at the thought of meddling, and when they meddled, it was in the most pacifist of ways. This gave them a suggestion of superiority far greater than that of the previous powerful beings, who flaunted their power in a way that was nothing more than human.
I very much enjoyed this episode through and through–not just as a show, but as a writer’s vision of what we should strive to be. Looking around at the violence and overreach of global superpowers we see today, what would it look like if we could transcend our primal nature to something better?
I give this episode 5/5.
The Dittoverse
by Lorelei Marcus
A crucial part of the science fiction genre is aliens, and Star Trek gives them to us in great variety. We have the completely unfamiliar aliens like the salt-monster from "The Man Trap" or the silicon-based carpet monster from "The Devil in the Dark". Then there's the God-like beings, which display evolution well beyond the people of the Enterprise. My favorite aliens, though, are the humanoid ones, because their existence suggests a great deal about the Star Trek universe.
The Klingons are the third race of aliens we've seen that seem to be technologically and evolutionarily similar to the humans of the Federation. First were the Vulcan(ians), and then the Romulans, though there is strong evidence that the Romulans are distant relatives of the Vulcans, and thus constitute one species. The Klingons seem to have a similar relationship to humans based on their appearance, customs, and technology. Perhaps the Klingon Empire is the result of a colony ship like Khan's, launched during Earth's warring period. Yet I suggest there is a larger mystery afoot.
Minor differences aside, there is also a distinct resemblance between humans and Vulcans [and apparently an ability to interbreed (ed.)]. Initially, one could attribute this to the limitations of Star Trek's make-up department, but I propose there is an explanation for not just the connection between humans and Vulcans, but every humanoid alien seen and to be seen on the show.
Amazing fashion sense aside, the Klingons are remarkably humanoid.
This answer lies in "Miri" (the episode, not the character). "Miri" introduces that 'mirror Earths' exist, worlds that appear exactly like the Federation's homeworld, yet with distinct populations and even timelines. While we've yet to see another identical Earth like the one in "Miri", we have seen many habitable worlds and humanoid aliens. What if a common ancestor of the humans, the Klingons, the Vulcans, all started from the same place, on the same world, at a certain early point in its evolution? Then, this proto-Earth was progressed countless times in separate timelines, each evolving into the cultures and creatures we know. Each of these separate Earths were somehow folded into one space, perhaps with some space-time affecting technology like a Starship's warp drive. We already know time travel is possible using the Enterprise. Why not an accidental collapse of the fourth dimension as well?
There is a simpler solution, of course. All of these identical worlds could be deliberate constructs for some higher being's experiment. Personally, I think this explanation is less interesting, but with the number of God-like aliens we've seen, probably the more likely.
Either way, I love science fiction that makes me speculate on the very fabric of the universe. This episode is definitely a great additional piece to the puzzle that is Star Trek.
Four stars.
I have no idea what to make of this next episode of Star Trek. Come join us tonight at 8:30 PM (Eastern and Pacific) and help us figure it out.
![[June 14, 1967] What's Easy for Two (<i>Venus 4</i> and <i>Mariner 5</i>)](https://i0.wp.com/galacticjourney.org/wordpress/wp-content/uploads/2022/06/670614mariner.jpg?resize=672%2C372&ssl=1)
![[June 12, 1967] The Mouse that Roared (The Six Day War)](https://i0.wp.com/galacticjourney.org/wordpress/wp-content/uploads/2022/06/670607jeru3.jpg?resize=672%2C372&ssl=1)
![[May 28, 1967] Around the World in 80 Months (May 1967 Space Roundup)](https://i0.wp.com/galacticjourney.org/wordpress/wp-content/uploads/2022/05/670528earth.jpg?resize=672%2C372&ssl=1)
![[May 24, 1967] Heavyweight Champion (Avalon Hill's <i>Blitzkrieg</i>)](https://i0.wp.com/galacticjourney.org/wordpress/wp-content/uploads/2022/05/670524box.jpg?resize=672%2C372&ssl=1)
![[May 20, 1967] Field trips (June 1967 <i>Fantasy and Science Fiction</i>)](https://i0.wp.com/galacticjourney.org/wordpress/wp-content/uploads/2022/05/670520cover.jpg?resize=449%2C372&ssl=1)
![[May 12, 1967] There and Back Again (June 1967 <i>Galaxy</i>)](https://i0.wp.com/galacticjourney.org/wordpress/wp-content/uploads/2022/05/670512cover.jpg?resize=672%2C372&ssl=1)
![[April 30, 1967] Strange New Worlds and Staid Old Ones (May 1967 <i>Analog</i>)](https://i0.wp.com/galacticjourney.org/wordpress/wp-content/uploads/2022/04/670430cover.jpg?resize=672%2C372&ssl=1)
![[April 20, 1967] End of the Road (<i>Star Trek</i>: "Operation: Annihilate!")](https://i0.wp.com/galacticjourney.org/wordpress/wp-content/uploads/2022/04/670420title.jpg?resize=672%2C372&ssl=1)
![[April 18, 1967] Bright Lights (May 1967 <i>Fantasy and Science Fiction</i>](https://i0.wp.com/galacticjourney.org/wordpress/wp-content/uploads/2022/04/670418cover-scaled.jpg?resize=672%2C372&ssl=1)
![[March 30, 1967] The Peacekeepers (<i>Star Trek</i>: "Errand of Mercy")](https://i0.wp.com/galacticjourney.org/wordpress/wp-content/uploads/2022/03/670330title.jpg?resize=672%2C372&ssl=1)
