Tag Archives: 1966

Magazine, Science Fiction/Fantasy, Serial

[October 31, 1966] Respite from the horror (November 1966 Analog Science Fiction)

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by Gideon Marcus

Boo!

It's a scary world out there.  If ever there was an appropriate time to be reminded of it, it's today, Halloween.  These days, it's not the supernatural or the spooky that frightens the bejeezus out of us (though UFO sightings are at a record high).  No, it's real-world issues like the ongoing, escalating war in Vietnam.  Thousands of our boys have died over there, and there's no end in sight.  The other day, Stokely Carmichael, head of the Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee, said he had no intention of fighting were he to be drafted.  He's currently living with the Sword of Damocles of his latest physical fitness exam — will he be judged fit for duty?  Is prison preferable to serving in an unjust war?

There are fears on the domestic front, too.  Grocery prices have spiraled to ridiculous levels, and an organized army of housewives has picketed the stores in at least 15 cities across America.  Can they effect change before basic foods get too expensive too afford?

I think all of this existential dread is why folks turn to fiction.  I've now had several fans of my Kitra series note their appreciation that, while they find Kitra's adventures riveting, they take comfort in knowing that she and her crew will come out safe in the end.  It's a reassurance they aren't finding in real life

I felt similarly reading the latest issue of Analog.  Sometimes science fiction paints grim futures, even seeming to relish in the despondence of the characters who inhabit them (q.v. Harrison's overpopulation nightmare, Make Room!  Make Room!).  Such works are important.  Cautionary tales are important.  They show us potentialities to avoid.  They challenge us to think.  But sometimes, you just want an interesting story where you know things will all work out.  Analog's editor John Campbell has given us two quite good ones this month (and some other stuff).


by Kelly Freas

Yay!

Quarantine World, by Murray Leinster


by Kelly Freas

Dr. Calhoun of the Med Service has reason to be suspicious.  The planet Lanke is ostensibly perfectly healthy, yet the government is going out of its way to hide something from him.  Moreover, Lanke's politicians are keenly interested in the public health specifically for its insuring the bottom line of their economy.  It is thus with appropriate shock to all concerned that a plague-infested person, obviously an off-worlder, crashes Calhoun's reception.  More shocking — the Lanke government insists Calhoun have nothing to do with the individual, who is shot by the authorities.  When he performs a cursory examination of the corpse, he is summarily ejected from the planet.

Whereupon he contracts the deadly disease, and his trusty tormal, the antibodies-producing cat/monkey called Murgatroyd, is unable to synthesize a cure!  Calhoun's only clue (and hope!) is the existence of a failed colony on the nearby planet of Delhi.  Perhaps there he can solve the mystery of his illness before he…and the population of Linke…succumbs to it.

Murray Leinster is often called the dean of science fiction.  He's been writing for decades, and sadly, the tape is starting to wear a little thin.  He pads out his work a lot, and his characters mostly sound alike.  There is a strange, juvenile character to his writing that feels out of place in Analog.  Honestly, it may be less a matter of literary senility, and more that of bilking an extra hundred bucks from Campbell for the extra verbiage; writers are paid by the word, after all.

But.

It's a good story, highlighting several interesting social issues (capitalism uber alles, the treatment of criminals and political dissidents, the role of medicine).  It's a great universe, one I've drawn inspiration from for my Kitra books.  And Murgatroyd is an absolute joy to read about. 

So, three stars. 

Facts to Fit the Theory, by Christopher Anvil


by Kelly Freas

The human colony of Cyrene IV is about to be invaded by the rapacious Stath.  Yet the Cyrenicans refuse to join the Terran Federation, which would protect them under the auspices of a non-aggression pact with the Stath.  All attempts to coerce an application to the Federation are thwarted by increasingly improbable events, all of which point to some kind of religio-psychic interference on the part of the colonists.

Then the Stath arrive.  Their attemps to be mean and nasty are also countered by freak occurrences, up to and including a planetary hurricane.  They leave, tail between their legs.  The human military officers are admonished to write up a full report, but to explain the chronology without invoking ESP.

Could there be a more archetypical Chris Anvil Analog story? 

  • Tongue-in-cheek?  Check.
  • Humans come out ahead?  Check.
  • Prominent figuring of psionics?  Check.
  • Authorities are stupid for not acknowleding the existence of psionics?  Check.
  • The Traveler sick of stories like this?  Check and Check.

Two stars because it's readable, but please, no more.  I beg you.

Dimensions, Anyone?, by John D. Clark, Ph.D.

A fascinating if abstruse piece from Dr. Clark.  It's about the importance of a matching set of physical dimensions for rendering useful measurements.  Forget the "English" system, and even the metric system isn't truly universal.  Clark offers up one of his own, while describing the history of the ones we currently use. 

Much denser than Asimov's stuff, but it was in my wheelhouse.  Four stars.

Letter from a Higher Critic, by Stewart Robb


by Kelly Freas

In which folks in the 22nd Century, having lost most historical sources of the 19th and 20th Century, deem that World War 2 is too improbable to have occurred as recounted.  The primary objection is that the names of all of the major players, from Roosevelt to Churchill to Adolph Hitler to Stalin, are too on-the-nose to represent real people. 

Very slight stuff.  Blink and you'll miss it.  Read and you'll forget it.

Two stars.

Too Many Magicians (Part 4 of 4), by Randall Garrett


by John Schoenherr

And now we come to the end, both of the magazine, and of this most promising murder mystery serial from Randall Garrett.  Good luck putting it down — it is a rollercoaster from the opening sequence, in which Lord D'Arcy has just dived into the Thames to rescue a bewitched woman, to the final scene, in which Chief Investigator for the Duke of Normandy identifies the culprit from among nine suspects.

It's a well-drawn whodunnit, weakened only by its separation into four parts (which the assured novelization will fix).  The solution is plausible and (mostly) independently deducible.  The guilty party makes sense.  I appreciated the quantum mechanics element of the case, too; it is impossible to observe matters without affecting them.  It makes this particular Lord D'arcy case quite dynamic.  I also noted the homage to Twelve Angry Men in one scene.

Garrett has gotten much better at handling woman characters: Mary, Dowager Duchess of Cumberland, and Demoiselle Tia Einzig are nicely realized and pivotal players.  Hard to believe this is the same fellow who wrote Queen Bee.  For the same magazine!

So, five stars for this segment, four and a half for the story as a whole, and I won't be surprised if this gets a Hugo nod in New York next year!

Summing up: Two tricks and three treats

Setting aside the Anvil and the Robb, Analog really delivered the goods this month, providing a bubble of reassuring entertainment in a frightening era.  Clocking in at 3.4 stars, it surpasses or ties with the other magazines this month except for the exceptional Science-Fantasy/Impulse (3.7 stars). 

Technically, Fantastic (3.5 stars) was also better, but given that it was largely reprints, I don't know that it's a fair comparison.  Of the all-new material mags, the order goes Fantasy and Science Fiction (3.4), New Worlds (3.1), IF (3), and Worlds of Tomorrow (2.3).

It was actually a great month for fiction.  One could fill three whole magazines with all the four and five star stuff.  Sadly, there was not a single woman-penned piece of fiction published in a pro mag with a November 1966 date. 

And with that, the unpleasant real world intrudes again.  Ah well.  I managed to avoid it for most of an article.  Maybe next month will bring happier news on this front.

[Actually, there's happier news right now!  Sirena, the second book in The Kitra Saga, has been a smash hit, and I think you'll dig it, too.  Buy a copy…you'll be supporting me and getting a great read at the same time!]



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Movies, Science Fiction/Fantasy

[October 28, 1966] "Seconds" Presents a Different Kind of Horror

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by Jason Sacks

Whatever happened to the dreams of youth?

Arthur Hamilton is a man in his fifties. He's bored and lonely, tied down to responsibilities and to people that he just doesn't care about. He's trapped in his own head, in his own existential middle aged angst, filled with a longing, aching, painful feeling that his life just hasn't gone the direction he wanted it to go.

Hamilton once was a tournament-winning tennis player who attended an Ivy League school. Hamilton once had dreams of making a living as a painter, someone free to express himself through his art and creativity. Instead Hamilton labors at suffocating job, as a bank manager who spends his days concerned about topics like debt-to-equity ratio.

Hamilton's family life is equally as suffocating. His only child, a daughter, has moved all the way to California fron New York. Though she's the pride of his life, Hamilton seldom talks to his daughter. And his relationship with wife Emily also suffocates Hamilton. Their life stultifying, dull, set into a set of grooves so deep it's impossible to see out of them.

So when Arthur is offered the chance to suddenly change his life, to literally experience life as a new person, he takes the chance to get a new face, fingerprints, and a completely new life courtesy of a mysterous corporation.

And, in the end, Arthur will learn that happiness does not come from the outside but from the inside.

Seconds is the new film directed by John Frankenheimer, whose work I loved in last year's 7 Days in May and the brilliant 1963 film The Manchurian Candidate. Like those two other great paranoid thrillers, Seconds delivers a nightmare vision of America that resonates with our current day, delivered in a steady pace that creates a world that both tempts and terrifies, and that shows a hyper-realized version of our everyday lives.

The move starts with a compelling title sequence. Created by the brilliant Saul Bass, the sequence focuses in on ultra close up images of a man's face. Seldom has an ordinary human body looked so strange in the movies, and this sequence sets up a profoundly upsetting stage for the film to follow.

A few of the brilliantly terrifying images Saul Bass throws at the viewer during the title sequence of Seconds.

After the credits, we get an equally strange and dislocating sequence at New York's Grand Central Station. The station is often shown as a cathedral or a simple transportation hub during films. But I can't remember an instance when the great civic landmark looked so upsetting and strange as Frankeinheimer and cinematographer James Wong Howe create a helter skelter impressionistic maze of ratlike passages below the station that tighten the sense of paranoia and confusion.

As he steps onto the train, Hamilton is handed a slip of paper by a man who quickly dashes off, a confusing encounter in a day of confusing events. Hamilton glances at the paper and sees the address written on it. Nothing else is given him, no information about what is at the address or why he should pay attention to it, but Hamilton is deeply troubled by the encounter. Hamilton's hands shake as he pulls out his newspaper, and his mind is too troubled to do his daily crossword puzzle.

Arthur Hamilton wandering to his train in Grand Central Station, little expecting the encounter that will change his life

As we find out, this strange event connects to another confusing experience that happened to Hamilton the night before. An old friend from his tennis playing days, long thought dead, called Hamilton to ask about his life. That night, the same friend calls Hamilton back. They confirm the friend's identity with a fact nobody else would know, and our protagonist finds himself deeply confused, in a state of existential doubt.

Arthur Hamilton's life has been radically changed these last two days. His previously deep groove is having its walls knocked down, and the resulting existential confusion terrifies Hamilton. He's in a cold sweat – a recurring element of this film – contemplating his life changing in unexpected ways.

When his wife Emily tries to comfort Arthur, even making a small romantic pass at him, Arthur turns away. He can't break out of his groove. He's too trapped in his own ennui, his persona of bland, bored placidity to change any aspect of his everyday life. The couple who dutifully give each other pecks on the cheek and who sleep in separate beds simply cannot change their lives. They are too trapped in their groove to imagine anything more.

Arthur is trapped in his own skin, tragic and pathetic in his inability to change.

How can anybody like that, living a life of deeply sad boredom, turn away from a chance to change himself? Hamilton has to go to the corporation – the cold sweat he feels the next day at work brings him there – and he turns away from his dull life in weathy Scarsdale and towards a new life, a mysterious life that will allow him a second chance to live out his youthful dreams.

Arthur Hamilton undergoes surgery and is reborn with a new name (Antiochus Wilson) and a new body, handsomer and younger looking. No longer is the distinguished-looking, 50-year-old  man played by John Randolph. Now he is played by the dashing Rock Hudson, matinee idol and icon for masculine confidence and charm.

The casting of Hudson in this role is a masterstroke. It's hard to imagine anyone better suited to play Antiochus Wilson than Hudson, and his performance in this film is a revelation. I'm used to seeing Hudson as the chamingly bland leading man in a series of Doris Day vehicles, but here he seems like a man caught between two worlds. He delivers a deeply passionate performance as a man caught between what he aspires to become and what he actually is.

That might best be displayed in the ambiguous relationship he has with the glorious actress Salome Jens, playing her character Nora Marcus like a divorcee set free from her own responsibities. She and Wilson quickly connect to each other, appropriate since their lives seem so parallel.

Their relationship comes to a head in a deeply strange and fascinating scene of a bacchanalian winemaking event the couple attend, in which the love of grapes causes all inhibitions to be cast off. It is in that moment that we begin to see Hudson's acting skills on full display, and see that his existential confusion hasn't disappeared because he's in a new body. No matter how much we can change our appearances, we will always be ourselves. That realization leads to several more thrilling twists and turns until we reach the deeply disturbing conclusion of this film.

By the time we reach the terrifying conclusion of Seconds, we can't help but to see ourselves in the split persona of Arthur Hamilton and Antiochus Wilson. No faceless corporation can ever truly free us from the person we are in our heads, and no mere physical changes can change us emotionally. People can't change unless they commit to actually changing themselves. No change wrought by outside forces or through physical change can stick.

We are all trapped inside our own minds.

And that might be the most frightening horror of all.

Four stars.




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TV

[October 26, 1966] Star Trek: "What are Little Girls Made of?")

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Fun with Binary!


by Lorelei Marcus

I'm loving this new show called Star Trek.  From innovative effects to nuanced plots to interesting characters, Star Trek has often been raising the bar for television's best from week to week.  Sadly, I missed the past two episodes due to scheduling conflicts (catching up through our fanzine's weekly episode recap and review).  But this week, I ensured that my sacred viewing time would not be overtaken by any babysitting jobs or midterm study sessions.

I sat down in anticipation, the dark viewing room hushed despite the several people who had joined me to watch.  Excitement thrummed through me as the thrilling, other-worldly theme started to play…

And in the end, "What are Little Girls Made of?", the seventh episode of the new show Star Trek, was a complete DISASTER!

…but I liked it anyway.

If you happened to miss the broadcast, I will do my best to recount the episode's plot for you, even though it is already rapidly receding from my memory:

Opening on the bridge of the Enterprise, Captain Kirk and Nurse Chapel (Majel Barrett), whom we first saw in Naked Time, stare worriedly at a blue planet.  We are informed that Dr. Roger Korby (Michael Strong), Chapel's fiancé, has been trapped on the planet for the past five years, presumed dead because the planet's surface has become too cold to sustain life (the system's sun is dying).

Shortly after this remark is made, Korby's voice comes over the radio, requesting that Captain Kirk beam down to the planet, alone, to witness an amazing discovery he's made!  Who could have foreseen this?


"Can Nurse Chapel come too?"  "Christine?  Oh sure.  She's a recurring character; that should be fine."

Kirk and Chapel are beamed down into an underground tunnel system where Korby has apparently been living.  Yet Korby is nowhere to be found, so Kirk orders down two security guards and heads off with Nurse Chapel to find her fiancé.


"Hey Matthews, you think anything bad will happen to us?"  "How could it?  My retirement's next week!"

Before long, they run into Korby's assistant, Dr. Brown, who decides that the most effective way of introducing himself is by standing in front of a giant stadium light.  This is one of the many instances of odd editing.  Brown turns off his giant headlight, Chapel recognizes him (now that she can see again) and Brown offers to take Kirk and Chapel to see Dr. Korby.  Oh, and Guard #1 (Matthews) mysteriously falls off a cliff in the hall and dies.  Who could have foreseen this?


Dr. Brown in front of the Bat Signal.

After a brief interlude where security guard #2 dies to a hulking alien creature (that looks like it just finished washing dishes at the Addam's house), we finally get to meet the man of the hour, Dr. Korby.  What proceeds is a grueling back and forth that consists of Korby rambling about how he must show and explain his discovery to Kirk, followed by continuous worried glances exchanged between Kirk and Nurse Chapel.

So what is Korby's amazing discovery that the whole episode has been building up to?

Completely lifelike androids!


Meet Andrea, one of Korby's androids, whose purpose is a complete mystery and not at all obvious.


For someone who has an important point he wants to explain, he sure takes a long time getting to it.

It turns out Korby's assistant has been an android all this time.  (Maybe he was standing in front of the headlight to recharge?) In a sudden scuffle with Kirk, he is shot by a phaser, exposing his circuits.

Korby doesn't seem too perturbed at the loss of his assistant, though.  He has Ruk instead (played by Ted Cassidy).  Ruk is an even more advanced android built by the old aliens who left the android-making machinery Korby's been studying and using for the past five years.  And not just to make sexy secretaries.  He can even entirely replicate a human being!  And he's going to show Captain Kirk how it's done.

Cut to Shatner lying completely naked strapped to a turntable.


"Good thing I wore my tear-off uniform today.  It made this transition much faster!"

If my summarization seems a bit disjointed or abrupt, it's because this is an absolutely faithful rendition of the pacing of the episode.  Anyway, Korby's experiment succeeds, creating an exact copy of Kirk, one that obeys Korby's orders.  Copy-Kirk beams up to the Enterprise to take control of the ship.

At this, you may gape.  What?  The kind, not-suspicious-at-all Korby had ill intentions all along?

The plot runs deeper.  Korby explains to Kirk that he has the technology not just to copy a person, but to transfer their soul into an immortal mechanized shell.  A shell that can be programmed and controlled to perfection, Kirk points out, refusing to help Korby with his plan.  Korby's plans rapidly fizzle out anyway.  When Kirk's mind was being transferred into copy-Kirk, he'd recited to himself a message he would never say: "Mind your own business, Mr. Spock — I'm tired of your half-breed interference, do you hear?"  It is delivered at the first encounter between copy-captain and First Officer.

Spock, a veteran of dealing with duplicate captains at this point, gets the message loud and clear and beams down to the planet's surface…with armed escort.


Ah, there's an evil duplicate of the captain on the ship?  It must be Tuesday."

Finally, we hit the climax.  After seemingly failing to win Andrea as an ally with a kiss, Kirk convinces Ruk to disobey his programming and attack Korby.  The doctor, without a second thought, zaps his thousand year old android with a phaser, poofing him from existence.  Then Andrea zaps copy-Kirk because he won't kiss her like real-Kirk did, and he disappears.  Then Kirk tries to wrestle the phaser from Korby and accidentally shoots Dr. Korby's hand, revealing him to be…an android all along!  Who could have foreseen this??!

Andrea walks in and kisses Korby.  The doctor, horrified that he has become more machine than man, and that Andrea has become more woman than machine, zaps both of them from existence. 

The end.

Well, that was an experience.  The editing, pacing, and writing for the episode were a complete mess.  Still, there were elements that I absolutely loved. The costuming and sets were gorgeous.  An expert combination of clever camera angles, colorful pink and purple lighting, and creatively designed walls really made you feel that the characters were in an otherworldly cave. 

Everyone on the planet's surface shared an interesting motif in their clothes, and Andrea's outfit was so daring, I wouldn't be surprised if they needed a censor on set while filming!  Still, my favorite costume was Ted Cassidy's — between his ominous makeup and his puffy sleeves and high collar, he really felt like something alien.

I also appreciated the acting, even if the actors didn't have much to work with.  All of the android characters had a slightly flat affect to their deliveries that made them seem not quite human.  Cassidy, as always, did a fantastic job.  Shatner was weaker without any of his crew members to play off of, but he still did well differentiating between real Kirk and android Kirk.

Finally, the special effects were topnotch as always.  We got the transporter effect and a few phaser beams, which never fail to amaze me, but we also got some incredibly effective split screens which actually made me forget the two Kirks were played by the same person!

So overall, I would say that this episode wasn't just bad, but hardly really felt like an episode at all.  The premise and logic were completely internally inconsistent, and the main plot points don't hang together at all.  However, I still enjoyed the show, because though the parts refused to fit together properly, they still had a lot of value on their own.

Three stars.

Wasted Potential


by Janice L. Newman

This episode was all over the place in terms of pacing. First, the mad scientist teases Kirk (and the audience) with some grand revelation, then the episode cuts directly to Kirk spinning naked on a giant turntable. Kirk’s message to Spock is cleverly done (and one of the best parts of the episode), but in the end, it makes no difference: Kirk convinces the androids with ‘logic’ and they mostly destroy each other after that point before Spock and his team can even arrive.

It’s a shame, because robot stories have a lot of potential. Between Asimov’s Robot stories, the recent deconstruction of same in Lester Del Rey’s A Code For Sam, and the use of robots in one of the current Space Patrol Orion episodes, metal men are a hot topic right now. Some of the nuanced takes from the early Star Trek episodes would have been interesting and welcome. For example, are the androids capable of independent thought and emotion? What are the moral implications of killing the androids, especially Ruk, who has been on the planet for centuries and is the last representative of a dead race? The androids’ plan to replace humans was obviously not desirable, but could the technology have been repurposed and used to better humankind?

Unfortunately, we didn’t get any thoughtful questions like these. Instead, we got a story in a traditional pulp mold with a newish villain: no bug-eyed aliens, but instead sinister machine-men. I can’t help but hope that the writers go back to storytelling that focuses on the gray areas instead of slam-bang black and white.

Two and a half stars.

Same ol', same ol'


by Gideon Marcus

I think my biggest problem with this episode is that we've seen so much of it before.  Eccentric scientist on a remote planet shacked up with an alien being who doesn't want to be found?  Check.  Two Kirks?  Check.  A bleak, frigid planet festooned with styrofoam rocks?  Check.  Even the score seemed largely recycled from previous episodes.  Added to that, the clunky pacing and the shallow treatment of potentially thought-provoking topics really dragged this episode into the lower tiers.  It's not offensive, it's just not very good.

Kudos where they are deserved: lovely costume design (though I kept expecting Hoss Allen to come out and host The Beat!!! what with the blue and green motif.

The split-screen effects were particularly good, especially with the slanted table.  Patty Duke could learn a thing or two (oh wait — she's been canceled). 

Ted Cassidy was quite effective as Ruk, easily the most interesting part of the episode.  Though I did keep expecting him to give his signature, "You raaang?" when he appeared. And I appreciated how quickly Spock deduced an imposter was on board.  Coming on the heels of "The Enemy Within", there really would be no excuse otherwise.

So, better than "Mudd's Women", which I would have rated two stars.  Let's call it two and a half, on par with "Where No Man Has Gone Before".

Distinguishing Features


by Erica Frank

In this episode, we see alien fashion disasters, two crewmember deaths, and a return of Shirtless Kirk. (Hurray!) We also get android love (or at least android emotions; it's all very confusing) and the continuation of the " barren landscape; underground dwelling with lumpy stone walls" motif for alien planets.


Let's make sure we cover the important parts of the episode.

My observations from this episode: Nurse Chapel seems like an open-minded, free-love kind of woman. Just a few episodes ago, she was declaring her deep and sincere love for Mr. Spock, and now we discover she's been engaged — and searching for her fiancé — this whole time! If Spock had been part of the landing party, she might've had some very interesting conversations with the both of them.

We did, however, get double shirtless Kirk. Double naked Kirk, in fact, when Doctor Korby throws him into the Carbon-Copy-o-Matic android machine and makes a copy of him, right down to his thoughts and memories.


Which one is the android? Spock will need to know; I'm not sure I care.

Other people have spoken about the plot, the characters, the pacing… which leaves me to mention the lighting, which was excellent, and the fashion choices, of which I have already provided the best in the show.

The lighting and scene direction was clear, showed faces well without obscuring the underground facilities, and made it very easy to follow what was happening. This is a nice change from episodes where it's either pulled back so far that you can't tell where the action is, or focused on two heads that might be anywhere, or dim and shadowed so you can't tell what's going on. The cinematography was excellent in this episode.

The costuming, though… Now I know why the crew members' uniforms change all the time. (Uhura's in red this week.) Obviously, the Terran government is trying to avoid whatever pitfalls destroyed the long-extinct alien races, and while they can't be certain that the aliens' taste in fashion was part of their destruction, they are taking no chances.


This, THIS, is supposed to be a representative of a race that conquered the very building blocks of matter and thought? They could create a whole society of whatever skills, talents, and physical abilities they needed, and this is how they chose to dress them?

Ruk's outfit isn't the only problematic one on the planet. Andrea-the-android was presumably clad to appeal to Dr. Korby. She wears a blue-and-black dress (if that's the word) that barely covers enough body parts to be legal to show on television. Really, this should've been the Enterprise crew's first clue that something was very wrong: unless they were sweltering in their uniforms, she should've been uncomfortable with that much skin showing.


Since it turned out the Korby we met was an android who cannot feel love or baser human urges, this must've been a remnant of the original Korby's interests.

Once we're all done reeling from the… interesting… clothing, we get to deal with the rest of the plot: they're all androids; Korby's gone mad and wants to take over the universe with more androids; Andrea's developing an unseemly level of emotions; Ruk is chasing Kirk through the caverns with intent to kill him, as he did with the two unsuspecting red-shirted crewmembers at the beginning of the episode.


Kirk hids from Ruk while holding a makeshift, err, weapon he's found in the caverns.

In the end, Kirk charms Andrea into turning on her associates; the power of Kirk Kisses is apparently stronger than android programming. Spock, of course, quickly identifies Robot Kirk and incapacitates him. By the end of the episode, all the androids are gone, and for reasons unknown, the Enterprise leaves with no mention of either acquiring or deliberately avoiding the amazing copy-android technology.

I would expect them to report the discovery to Earth to be studied by people less prone to become megalomaniacs. Even if the process cannot create a "soul," I would expect many people in similar circumstances to Korby — near death, badly injured or disabled — to have an interest in technology that could give extended life to their thoughts and memories. If nothing else, it would allow people to record their memoirs, complete their research projects, give messages to loved ones, and so on. I was surprised Kirk abandoned the machinery; I can imagine many good uses for such a device, and I expect that's exactly the kind of thing his "five-year mission" is intended to discover. Perhaps it was reported, and another crew, more scientifically oriented than set on exploration, will return to the planet to find out if it can be used without succumbing to the temptation to take over planets.

I agree with the comments above that say the episode was scattered. The action scenes were well-done, but the overall story and pacing jumped around too much. However, it was visually stunning, didn't involve evil mind-control, and brought up some interesting questions about the nature of humanity and the mind. Four stars: Three for the plot, characters, and direction, plus half a star for each naked Kirk.

(Join us tomorrow at 8:30 PM (Pacific AND Eastern — two showings) for the next exciting episode of Star Trek!)

Here's the invitation!



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Magazine, Science Fiction/Fantasy, Serial

[October 24, 1966] Birds, Roaches and Rings, New Worlds and SF Impulse, November 1966

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by Mark Yon

Scenes from England

Hello again!

We seem to be on a bit of a roll at the moment with the British magazines. Generally, there are more stories that are good than bad, and even some really, really good. Whilst the experimental stuff can be a mixed bag, there’s no denying that what we are reading now is *cough* “worlds away” from the generic stuff we were reading ten years ago.

Even comparing the British material with the US magazines shows some clear differences.

And yet at the same time there are worrying rumours that subscriptions are declining, especially that of SF Impulse, which has always been the less popular of the two, and – whisper it softly – the reason for SF Impulse having to bring in a new Editor, Harry Harrison, to try and slow the decline.

Both magazines are bringing readers new ideas and new stories every month – except that both magazines have had to include “classic” stories recently, presumably in part because they are cheaper to republish.

I hope that the rumours aren’t true, but it is a little worrying.

Nevertheless, for now, it’s full steam ahead, but with regular glances to the horizon. Like last month, I’ll start with New Worlds.

This month Mike Moorcock’s Editorial poses the question: “Are there too many science fiction books being published?” Usually to questions like this I would say “Absolutely not!” and then move on, but Mike makes the point that because most of the books published are mediocre, the shop shelves are filled with banality that obscures the ones worth reading and gives sf a reputation for unchallenging and poor reading material. Not sure that I entirely agree, but it means that the Editorial does that thing it should do – of making the reader think and perhaps take a look at something from a different angle before moving on.

Let’s hope the argument doesn’t extend to ”Are there too many British science fiction magazines being published?”

To the stories!


Illustration by James Cawthorn

Storm Bird, Storm Dreamer, by J. G. Ballard

The cover story first. More depressingly dystopian prose from J. G., although this one is more straight-forward than some of his recent efforts. A near future landscape shows a world in environmental chaos. One of the side-effects has been that in Daphne du Maurier style the birds have started attacking humans. Captain Crispin spends much of his time shooting them in a constant battle between Man and bird. He also meets Catherine York, who oddly spends her time collecting dead bird’s feathers and leaving them to dry. These two odd characters develop an unusual relationship that doesn’t end well. The reason for York’s strange behaviour is explained at the end.

This one has the usual dramatic prose from Ballard, with vivid descriptive paragraphs, but in a more straight-forward narrative than his cut-up stories. It reminded me of his piece Dune Limbo, published in the March 1965 issue of New Worlds, where the not particularly pleasant characters attempt to survive in a challenging landscape. Never the happiest of settings, nevertheless the bleakness of Ballard’s more linear narrative makes this one more memorable to me. 4 out of 5.

The Flight of Daedalus, by Thomas M. Disch

And from one type of flight to another. The third month in a row from Disch. This time it is poetry, subtitled “fragment of an abandoned poem” and something Moorcock is still determined to include in the magazine. And whilst it is not my thing, as I have said before, it is fair. 3 out of 5.

A Man Must Die , by John Clute

Another story of flight – anyone would think that there’s a theme here! – but this time about a young man’s determination to run away from the guiding hands of Mother to Father. The main point of the story is that young Picasso Perkins III is the son of a spaceship’s captain, and much of the story is about how he is being educated to take on that role in the future and what happens when he does. Lots to like here in that Clute takes fairly traditional themes and gives them a spin under new management, with some rather surreal, trippy scenes. 3 out of 5.

Flesh of my Flesh , by J. J. Mundis

A new name, and another of those pseudo-religious diatribes that uses religious devotion to try and make a story, full of religious visions and angst. I very rarely like these, but it is done well enough. 3 out of 5.

The Thinking Seat, by Peter Tate

A name that has been quite prominent in the last few months, last seen with The First Last Martyr in the August issue of SF Impulse. Readers seem to really like Peter’s stories, but they never really impress me.

This one’s slightly better – an environmental tale that combines hip poetry with a range of weird and unlikeable characters in a dystopian future frontier town in California. The setting is Ballardian in its depressing-ness, whilst the characters seem to be full of important phrases but otherwise impotent. Feels like the author’s trying to be like Samuel L. Delany or Anthony Burgess, with less success, but it is a fair effort to be different. 3 out of 5.

The Poets of Millgrove, Iowa, by John T. Sladek

Another American big-hitter. This one does that Ballardian thing of sub-dividing the prose into short chapters. It tells of an American astronaut and his wife Jeanne being paraded out at the Millgrove Harvest Festival parade. Like Ballard’s tales, or perhaps John Brunner’s, lots of cultural brand-names bandied around to show that American heroes are being commercialised and sanitised as with any other product. It is interesting to read an American take on the themes that Ballard often uses so well. I can see why Moorcock would like it: it is meant to shock. 4 out of 5.

The Garbage World (Part 2 of 2), by Charles Platt

We continue the environmental theme with the second part of this story. In the first part we were told of Kopra, a world used by the rest of the Belt to dump its waste, and how a construction team were to begin to build a gravity generator to stop the planet destroying itself and becoming an environmental hazard. Recently deposed ‘mayor’ Isaac Gaylord had had his personal wealth stolen and blaming the nomads from outside of the village for taking advantage of the new situation goes to retrieve it with his daughter Juliette and her new boyfriend Lucian Roach. Whilst travelling around a mud lake their tractor had broken down and their radio was stolen, leaving them stranded.

In this installment, Gaylord returns to the village and Lucian finds that there is a devious plot by the outsiders to actually destroy, not save, Kopra. Roach confirms that he is in love with Juliette and goes native. The Kopra-ites escape the planet, and the story ends with an orgy on a spaceship as the planet explodes. (Outside of Heinlein, does this sort of story gain traction anywhere else but in Britain?)

As such a description shows, the cliff-hanger ending last time deteriorates into a pulpy space opera type tale. I was hoping that the story would raise itself above its crass beginning, but sadly it was not to be. Whilst I still think that there’s some good descriptions of this most unusual planet in here, the simple characterisation means that the tale is basically an old-school “planetary explorer” story with sex. 3 out of 5.

The Tennyson Effect, by Graham M. Hall

A new name to me, I think. This story is one of those experimental prose streams of consciousness that try to tell a lot but actually do little. Not for me, I’m afraid. 2 out of 5.


Illustration by James Cawthorn

The Realms of Tolkien, by Daphne Castell

An unusual point here, being an article from a writer that we’ve usually known for her fiction. What Daphne does here is tell us of the fantasy that has really caught on in the US, I gather. Most interestingly the article tells of an interview Daphne has had with the reclusive Professor Tolkien about his work and gives the reader both an idea of the story and through discussion with Tolkien a flavour of the complexity of Tolkien’s world. Whilst it is not unbiased, the article clearly shows a detailed knowledge of Tolkien’s writing and makes some interesting points as to his success.


Illustration by James Cawthorn

Book Reviews

This month, just one book – Michael Orgill discusses the collection The Voices of Time, edited by J. T. Fraser. It is “a massive study of the problem of time”. The review covers what is good, bad and interesting in the book, and overall “there is a lot to admire.”

No Letters pages again this month.

Summing up New Worlds

Another generally good issue with a combination of new writers and imported Americans who are determined to push the boundaries. I am intrigued by the environmental slant of many of the stories this month, though Moorcock does not seem to make a big deal out of it, choosing instead a flight connection. The experimental stuff still works with varying degrees of success to my mind, although the Editor deserves credit for not sticking to the expected ideas and styles of science fiction.

The Second Issue At Hand


And now to SF Impulse, under the rule of its new editor Harry Harrison. There are signs of changes, this month. We have book reviews and a letters section amidst the fiction.

The Ice Schooner (part 1 of 3) by Michael Moorcock


Illustration by Keith Roberts

To begin with, though, here we have the editor of New Worlds as an author in SF Impulse. To be fair, Mike was an author long before he was the editor of New Worlds, and after his last effort of fiction (Behold, the Man! in the September issue of New Worlds, I was interested to see where this one went.

It is very different. The Ice Schooner is set in some sort of science fantasy setting, with elements of sf but set on a future icy Earth that seems to be straight out of the old adventure pulps.

Konrad Arflane is a man of the ice in a post-Nuclear future where the world is ice-covered and whales have adapted to living on the ice. Humans live in the eight cities of the Matto Grosso between which boats travel on the ice to trade or to hunt the whales as a major food source. Arflane is travelling the ice wastes when he sees a person crawling across the ice. Impressed by the man’s determination to go somewhere, Arflane rescues him. The man is a Friesgaltian aristocrat, which makes his place on the ice even more mysterious.

Taking him to Friesgalt, Arflane discovers that the man is Ship Lord Pyotr Rorsefne of Friesgalt, who is grateful for his rescue. Whilst Rorsefne recovers, Konrad is asked to stay in the Ship Lord’s home, although the lord’s son in law makes him uncomfortable. Konrad is shown a ship belonging to Rorsefne, the Ice Flame, and he becomes restless. He meets an old friend, Captain Jarhan Brenn of the Tender Maiden, and in a bar together they meet legendary harpoonist Long Lance Urquart, who tells everyone of a major herd sighted in the South Ice fields. The next day Pyotr tells Konrad that he would like him to take on a journey to the North where lies the legendary city of New York, where proof of climate change will show that the world is changing again. The story ends on a cliff-hanger as Manfred, Arflame and Janek and Ulrica Ulsenn first agree to go hunting.

I liked it a lot. It reads like some sort of post-apocalyptic Norse fantasy, sort of Moby Dick meets Poul Anderson, and whilst the characters are not particularly original, I enjoyed the imaginative setting very much. As a straight-forward Jules Verne type of tale it is very good, an adventure tale of the old-school, but much, much better than the Platt effort in New Worlds this month. I’m looking forward to seeing where this one sails to in the next issue. Nice to see Kyril Bonfiglioli get the credit for buying this one, too. Like most of Kyril’s material under his editorship, The Ice Schooner is entertaining, if rather unoriginal. 4 out of 5.

Book Fare by Tom Boardman

Aldiss’s review last month of The Clone by Theodore L Thomas and Kate Wilhelm has now developed into a review column. Tom Boardman looks at Frederik Pohl’s A Plague of Pythons and Hal Clements’ Close to Critical. Both show a range in sf – one is more about Sociology, the other a harder sf – and whilst neither are the author’s best, they are both worth reading for different reasons.

The Simple for Love, by Keith Roberts

An Anita (the teenage witch) story! Anita falls in love with a human – a Catholic – and leaves Granny and Foxhanger for him. A surprisingly romantic story from Roberts, this one, with some interesting ideas of the bigger coven network and witchcraft generally. I have grown to like these stories more and more, although I will be the first to admit that the premise is rather silly. 4 out of 5.

Stop Seventeen by Robert Wells

The story of someone (Hart) on an underground train that seems to be forever travelling as after the Apocalypse the system has gone to automatic. Clearly a metaphor for life in general, this one read well. Not entirely pointless, I found myself humming The Beatles’ “Ticket to Ride” whilst reading this one. Not entirely sure whether that is a good thing or a bad one! The ending is rather a let-down, though. 3 out of 5.

Letters to the Editor

Another innovation intended to appeal to the regular reader. One of the letters is from Brian Stableford, who we came across in last month’s Sf Impulse. There are also mentions here of the change in editorship and Keith Roberts responds to a letter about Pavane. Interesting approach in that the author is allowed to respond to the letter-writer.


Illustration by Keith Roberts

The Eyes of the Blind King by Brian W. Aldiss

Another Aldiss tale. The title immediately reminded me of the story The Day of the Doomed King published in Science Fantasy in November 1965. This is deliberate – the same setting but an earlier tale. This time it is a story of deposed and deliberately blinded King Jurosh and seven-year-old Prince Vukasan in Byzantium. Jurosh is wanting to return to Serbia and take back his throne from brother Nickolas. It is a tale of loyalty, murder and betrayal, which is quite violent. This one reminds me of Thomas Burnett Swann’s stories, mixing fantasy with a quasi-historical setting, which for me can only be a good thing. It is as good, if not better than, the first story. 4 out of 5.


Illustration by Keith Roberts

The Roaches by Thomas M. Disch

Another Disch story this month. This one ramps up the psychological horror, a story of how these troublesome insects can force people to leave their apartment. Although we don’t get cockroaches here in Britain, this one did make my skin crawl, which is quite an achievement. 4 out of 5.

SF Film Festival by Francesco Blamonti

Although we had brief reports of Loncon, I don’t think we’ve had a review of a film festival since the Carnell days of New Worlds. This is about the Fourth Annual Festival of Science Fiction Films, held in Trieste in Italy. A good time seems to have been had by many, and there is mention of various films made and authors such as Harry Harrison and Arthur C Clarke who attended. Does feel a little like filler though, even if you could argue that the magazine is trying to broaden its appeal.

Pasquali’s Peerless Puppets by Edward Mackin

The return of a popular character is usually a crowd-pleaser, and so it is here with Edward Mackin’s character Hek Belov. Down on his luck (again), cyberneticist Belov is offered work by Meerschraft – a modern entertainer wishes to resurrect puppeteer Pasquali’s act to a new generation but has found that Pasquali disappeared with the secret of his trade. Belov is persuaded to use his skills to try and resurrect the robotic puppets, but finds a bigger plan at work. It feels a little like a sub-par Asimov Robot story, but I quite enjoyed this one. The style is humorous, yet knowing. 3 out of 5.

Summing up SF Impulse

Interesting issue this one. Nothing I disliked and a lot I did. The changes have started to happen, and Harrison (and Roberts) deserve credit for trying to regenerate the magazine. My only concern is that SF Impulse now reads like New Worlds’ shy cousin – not that different and possibly of lesser interest, overshadowed by its more flamboyant centre-stage-hugging member of the family. Is there room in the British market for both? I hope so, but I’m not sure.

Despite all of this, I liked the issue a lot. Like New Worlds, there’s a mixture of new and regular writers, and some range in the stories. Whilst the stories may be less experimental than this month’s New Worlds, there’s a lot I enjoyed.

Summing up overall

So: which one did I like most? SF Impulse is clearly trying to find a new way forward, if not perhaps as ‘New Wave’ as its more noticeable sibling. Both issues were good, the Ballard story startlingly so, the Moorcock surprisingly so. New Worlds has more troubling, more edgy, more in-your-face content, but is also more prone to stories I like less.

With that in mind, then, and on enjoyment alone, SF Impulse again has it, despite my concerns mentioned above. But is it enough to make that difference in sales? Time will tell.


Until the next…



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Magazine, Science Fiction/Fantasy

[October 22, 1966] Why Johnny Should Read (November 1966 Fantasy and Science Fiction)

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by Gideon Marcus

Tune out, turn off, drop in

Lately, the Journey's been fairly taken over by the boob tube.  These days, it seems all we do is cover Star Trek, Doctor Who, Raumpatrouille Orion, and like that.

Don't get me wrong — I like these shows, and our circulation numbers show you do too.  But let us not forget that science fiction began as a literary tradition, and those lovely monthly magazines crammed with speculative morsels are still with us.  Sometimes it's great to unplug from the clamor of the idiot box, curl up in a sunbeam, and read some great STF.

Thankfully, there's a lot of great stuff in the latest issue of Fantasy and Science Fiction…

Under the cover


by Bert Tanner

The Manor of Roses, by Thomas Burnett Swann

This is one of the few times (the first?) that an American magazine has been graced with Mr. Swann's work.  Normally, he spins modern retellings of mythological tales for the British mags.  But oh are we glad to have him here!

The Manor of Roses, set in King John's England, is the story of two adoptive brothers.  John is of gentle Norman birth; his inseparable villein companion, Stephen, comes from the stock of Saxon nobles.  Together, they steal away from their homes hoping to join in a latter Crusade in the Holy Land.

In a crypt they find along the way, they discover what appears to be an angel.  The beautiful young thing lies in repose, clutching a cross, professing to have lost her memories.  Stephen names her Ruth and takes her for an omen of good fortune, beseeching her to join their party.

Their expedition soon runs afoul of a community of Mandrakes, the one fantastical element in this richly drawn historical portrait.  These humaniform beings look like people after hatching, but soon grow hairy and woody.  Hunted for their bodies, which are rumored to make powerful aphrodisiacs, they are understandably hostile to humans.  Nevertheless, they are Christian, after a fashion, and Ruth secures the freedom of their party by bartering her cross.

Whereupon we come to the Manor of Roses and encounter the true narrator of the story, as well as the truth about Ruth.  I shall say no more of the plot.

As for the story, it is a beautiful thing, both engaging and educating.  Swann has such a subtle flow to his writing.  Indeed, I struggle to explain why I "only" give this story four stars instead of five. 

You may well not restrain yourself as I have.  Either way, it's fine reading and bravo, Mr. Swann.


by Gahan Wilson

The Best Is Yet to Be, by Bryce Walton

Retirement homes are a growing phenomenon these days.  Who wouldn't like to live out their sunset years in coddled comfort?  But what if the gilded cage is too suffocating?  And what is the value of secure longevity if one can't be with one's lifelong love?

Walton (who has been writing since the mid-forties) offers up a resonantly emotional story of a man who must live on his own terms, even if it means discarding all of his safety nets.

The sting in the story's tale is neither positive nor negative.  I think it could have been more adroitly done so as to cast doubt on the reality of all that transpires in the piece.  But it also could have been more heavy-handed, destroying the raw joy of the escapee's journey.

So I call the story a memorable four stars, and (unlike with the Swann) fully cognizant of how it might have gotten to five.

Heir Apparent, by Ed M. Clinton, Jr.

Here's a strange throwback of a story.  Fellow on Alpha Centauri writes to his (presumed) fiancee, describing how a tremendous genetic discovery made by his father means that he can no longer see her again. 

For there are people on Alpha Centauri.  Well, mostly.  Homo similis centauri is essentially human but lacking the frontal lobe.  Said father archaeologist begins rather scandalous attempts at cross-breeding, ultimately producing a viable being.  Surprise, surprise (not really), that offspring is the narrator.

It all reads like the Lovecraft stories where the storyteller discovers that he is really a fish-man or something and goes insane.  Clinton doesn't have his protagonist go crazy, exactly, but the result is much the same.

I dunno.  It didn't do it for me.  Two stars.

Earth Tremor Detection, by Theodore L. Thomas

Thomas, in his "science" article, makes the rather broad leap from seismometers that can tell the signature of a Russkie H-bomb test to delicate acoustic sensors that can tell a person from one's distinctive walking pattern.

Seems like a stretch, Ted.  Two stars.

A Friend to Alexander, by James Thurber

The one reprint of the issue, this is my first encounter with the prolific Mr. Thurber.  A fellow has nightmares about watching Aaron Burr goad Alexander Hamilton into a duel, ultimately killing him.  Then, in sleep, the dreamer becomes Burr's target of harrying.

It's well told, but the ending offers no surprises.  Perhaps there were no surprises to be had in the forties?

Three stars.

Neutral Ground, by Norman Spinrad

Welcome back, Mr. Spinrad!  In this tale, astronauts range unknown worlds not with the help of rockets and space suits, but with drug-enhanced clairvoyance.  Neutral Ground details the encounters one particular psychonaut has with a dreadful alien presence that gets closer with every mission.  Our hero is torn between fear of the inchoate threat and the desire to learn what it is. 

I found this story particularly interesting as the plot is somewhat similar to one of mine called Clairvoyage (though, of course, there is no chance of cross-pollination).  I liked it, though I found the end perhaps a touch pat.

Still, a memorable four star story.

Old Man River, by Isaac Asimov

Dr. A is at it with his lists again, this time describing the longest rivers — and just what length means in a riparian context.  I usually find The Good Doctor's list articles to be his lesser ones, but this one made me rethink how I approach geography, one of my favorite subjects.

Four stars.

The Devil and Democracy, by Brian Cleeve

Last up, a novelette featuring Old Nick.  Seems the demons are on strike.  Shoulder to shoulder with the damned souls, they refuse to let any new entrees into the underworld until their demands are met.  Mephistopheles hatches a plan to bust the strike, but it'll take a Hell of a lot of cleverness to see it through.

I tend to like Satanic stories, but this one is not as clever as it thinks it is.  Weighing the piece's pros and cons against each other, they come out fairly balanced.  So, three stars.

Closing the Book

All in all, the November F&SF is a somewhat uneven, but ultimately rewarding experience.  Moreover, for just four bits (cheaper than most mags these days), I obtained several hours of speculative entertainment.  Compared to the flickering wares of the television, which even at their best are alloyed with vapid commercials, I think magazines still hold their own.

There's still plenty of new left in the old medium!


by Bert Tanner

[Speaking of new works in print, there is now a new installment in The Kitra Saga!  Sirena has been a smash hit, and I think you'll dig it, too.  Buy a copy…you'll be supporting me and getting a great read at the same time!]



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Science Fiction/Fantasy, TV

[Oct. 20, 1966] Crimes against Humanity (Star Trek: "Mudd's Women")

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My kind of scoundrel


by Erica Frank

Let’s start at the beginning: the Enterprise is pursuing a smaller ship as it careens into an asteroid field. Captain Kirk orders his crew to protect the ship, burning out nearly all of their lithium crystals, and then beam the crew onboard. Mister Scott first beams over a man who initially introduces himself as "Leo Walsh". Then Mister Scott beams over three women — Eve, Ruth, and Magda — who pose elegantly on the transporter pad.

"Walsh" shows up wearing some kind of swashbuckler's outfit with a bejeweled earring just a little smaller than a golf ball. He says the three lovely women he's escorting are not his crew but his "cargo." He quickly explains: he's delivering them to their husbands-to-be on a mining colony.


Introducing: Leo Walsh, matchmaker from the stars

Right away, we can tell there's something sketchy about him. He smiles too widely, brushes aside questions, and tries to sneak away to talk with the women. They're all terrible liars, so it quickly comes out that his name is not "Leo Walsh" but Harry Mudd… in more ways than one.

Mudd's got a rap sheet: He's wanted for crimes like smuggling and counterfeiting, not for anything violent. He lies; he cheats; he steals; he runs away and does it again at the next port. He swindles people out of money, but he's not trying to ruin lives; he's just trying to enjoy his own.

Sure, he's trying to scam the potential husbands for the three ladies he's escorting (more on that shortly), but the women are planning to be good wives, to be partners and helpers to the men they marry, and they're willing to live in a very isolated place for that.


Eve, Ruth, and Magda, wearing the only clothes they own after being rescued

While Mudd and "his" women are involved in some kind of scam that the crew is trying to figure out, the ship itself is having problems. It's out of lithium crystals and can't travel faster than a slow crawl. Fortunately, there's a lithium mining planet with — as luck would have it — exactly three men, all single and desperate for wives. The three women immediately agree to abandon their former betrotheds (whom they'd never met) to latch on to these new, closer, wealthier strangers.

By the middle of the episode, we have a tangle of conflicting interests. Mudd wants to get paid (needs to get paid; his spaceship was destroyed) and would really like to stay out of prison. The three women would like husbands who can keep them in the type of luxury they'd enjoy. The Enterprise needs crystals or it's dead in space. Captain Kirk would like to know what the scam is so he can deal with his prisoner appropriately. The miners would like wives, and would be especially happy with beautiful, alluring wives. Doctor McCoy would like to know why every man on the ship (except Spock) acts like they're being enthralled. (This is difficult when he himself is subject to their charms.) The cops presumably would like Mudd behind bars for his past crimes.

I was worried this was yet another "mind control powers" episode, and was delighted to discover it was not. Mudd's been giving the women "the Venus Drug" which makes them beautiful and sexy. All three women are homely, unable to find husbands because they are so ugly. Their plan was to get married on a remote planet; by the time they ran out of the drugs, their husbands would be stuck with them and Mudd would be long gone.


As you can see, his name really is Mudd.

Kirk throws Mudd in the brig while he tries to figure out what's going on. However, in accordance with standard Enterprise security, the women are free to come and go as they please, visiting officers at work, breaking into Kirk's cabin, and coordinating to help Mudd. Mudd can't leave the brig, but they can not only visit him, they can bring him a communications device. He contacts the miners and arranges a deal for his own freedom.

The lithium miners must have a powerful union, almost as strong as the fashion industry: Mudd, not Earth (or starship command, or whomever Kirk reports to), tells Kirk that he's not only to be set free, but delivered safely to another planet after the women are settled. Presumably, Kirk verifies this with his superiors instead of just taking Mudd's word for it, but I'm never sure how much anyone on this ship pays attention to chain of command.


The crew beams down to the mining planet. Even when the plot is hokey, Star Trek's visual impact is breathtaking.

Eve has second thoughts about the whole thing. She runs off into a sandstorm, gets rescued by the head miner, and winds up telling him the whole truth. At first, he rejects her because she's ugly; eventually, after some shenanigans between Kirk and Mudd, both she and the miner realize that the drug isn't (entirely) what made her enticing — it may have removed a few wrinkles and added a bit of sparkle, but it's her own actions that made it effective: She was beautiful because she believed she was.

Kirk tells her: "There's only one kind of woman–" Mudd interrupts him to say, "–or man, for that matter," and Kirk finishes with, "you either believe in yourself, or don't."


Childress, the head of the mining colony, and Eve, the woman too ugly to find a husband on her home planet

They decide to make a go of it, and so do the other women, thus avoiding the likely violent reaction to the truth if the change had happened without giving them a choice. Hurray. The women get husbands who are willing to accept them as they are; the men get wives who are willing to put up with the isolation of a mining planet; the Enterprise gets the crystals it needs to function; and Harry Mudd gets a presumably fair trial.

Harcourt Fenton Mudd is obviously a conniving, selfish liar and con artist, but he's not trying to hurt anyone, and he's devoted to a life of leisure and flamboyance. That's hard to manage as the captain of a tiny ship drifting between the stars. It's not mentioned in the episode, but he must spend some of his time managing the ship and addressing its technical needs, and much of the rest looking out of viewports into the inky blackness of space.


Would you buy a used spaceship from this man?

Mudd's a ruffian, a scalawag, a scofflaw: a criminal to his bones… but he's relatable (we all know someone like him) and has managed to stay mentally sound, to be optimistic even, in a setting that could drive men mad. Humans are social creatures; we need each other to survive. Any sailor will say that ocean life is lonely; a starship is even more isolated — and yet Harry Mudd rejects companionship on his journeys.

It takes a strong will to maintain enough social skills to wheel and deal with those who are planetbound — and an even stronger one to be a maverick, obviously not following society's rules or moral standards, but in a way that says "I'm a rebel outlaw" rather than "I've been living alone for so long I've forgotten which fork is used for ice cream." 

I don't know that I'd like Harry Mudd in person, but I am certainly entertained by him at a distance. I admire his dedication to his chosen lifestyle, and the skills and mental strength he must have to pull it off.

Three and a half stars. It would be four, but there are no shirtless men in this episode.

The Message


by Robin Rose Graves

The introduction to "Mudd’s Women" is ripe with promise. Action and intrigue. How did these three otherworldly attractive women end up traveling with a space pirate like Mudd? And what makes them so irresistible that even a crew of professional men can’t help but gawk? These questions ensnared my initial interest, filled my head with theories. I was ultimately let down.

“Confidence is beauty” is the moral of the story upon the revelation that the pills did nothing to change the normal human girls’ appearances, but instead gave them confidence, leading to them being perceived as supernaturally beautiful. While I don’t disagree with the message, I was nonetheless disappointed. Confused, even, at how the show decided to depict the beauty of the women. Under the influence of the Venus pills, the girls have glamorous makeup and clothes. Once the pills wear off, the women are stripped of their make up and they, along with those around them, act as if they are appallingly homely looking. Otherwise, they appear the same as before, particularly to me, who still found the actresses chosen to play the parts to be attractive.


Disheveled, maybe… but ugly?

The overall message feels out of place in a science fiction world. It’s one that felt unchallenging compared to the better episodes we’ve seen thus far. The final act of the episode feels as if it could have happened in any mundane situation comedy program. I’m not opposed to science fiction tackling issues of our society (in fact science fiction at its strongest does) yet I felt this episode didn’t go far enough. Compare it to a favorite Twilight Zone episode “Eye of the Beholder” where the plot differs greatly, but the question answered remains the same – “What is beauty?”

“Eye of the Beholder” subverted expectations. The episode built you up to expect the main character to be as ugly as everyone around her treats her, only to reveal her face looks like ours but everyone around her has large noses, sunken in eyes, and puffy lips – what is considered attractive in their universe. Twilight Zone went to greater lengths than “Mudd’s Women” to challenge the beliefs of their viewers, and six years before Star Trek. I expected more from a show that has at its best moments challenged modern television programs, and the way the episode began promised more than what was delivered.

3 stars.

Clear as Mud


by Jessica Dickinson Goodman

Many moments in "Mudd’s Women" beg us to ask: are Eve, Ruth, and Magda property or people?

The episode follows a fairly simple structure: a chase, passengers rescued at great cost to the Enterprise necessitating an emergency refueling using fuel which Captain Kirk can only attain by trading the passengers’ lives, which he does. Or does he trade valuable cargo to the lithium miners of Rigel 12, with the cargo's willing consent?

The women explain what drove them from their home planets: hardship, unequal treatment, and a lack of hope for a real future. But we are not getting the whole story:

We discover that Mudd is supplying them with “Venus drugs,” that seem to alter the women’s appearances and charisma for a short time. Or do they? Towards the end of the episode, Kirk gives Eve a placebo pill without her informed consent and it has the same effect as the real thing. We are left to wonder: were the women’s transformations like those in The Man Trap, where Nancy Crater’s face aged depending on point of view? Or were these women actually aliens with a natural talent for appearing, as Erica described it as we watched, to have undergone a four hour hair and make-up treatment within moments of downing a sparkling pill?

Setting aside for a moment these mixed-up metaphysics, Eve, Ruth, and Magda clearly believe they need the drugs that Mudd controls access to. There is a harrowing scene where he goofily searches for more pills as the women rot and wither around him, bodies wracked with discomfort and with physical changes they believe they are powerless to control. This desperation and enforced dependency must color every other statement we hear from them about their consenting to their impending futures.

On Rigel 12, Mudd offers to trade Eve, Ruth, and Magda for his own freedom and crystals to fuel the Enterprise. What follows are several deeply upsetting scenes where Captain Kirk first refuses, and then — without any on-screen consultation with Eve, Ruth, or Magda — agrees to Mudd and the miners’ demands. Kirk transports them down to the mining camp to become wives of the miners. On the surface, we see a party where Magda asks a man to dance and men fight over her; a man asks Eve to dance and she says no, after which he publicly shames her for not consenting. Furious and distraught, Eve shouts: “Why don't you run a raffle and the loser gets me?” before running into a deadly sandstorm, with men baying after her.

Seven hours later, the miner who tried to shame Eve has her in his cave, where she is cooking for him. They fight, and he lays hands on her, only to growl: “I didn't touch her” when Captain Kirk and Mudd materialize, looking for lithium crystals. Moments later, Kirk gives Eve the placebo. Then he lectures her on womanhood and the importance of self-confidence before leaving.


“I didn't touch her.”

The episode ends without us seeing what became of Magda or Ruth. But we do see Kirk abandon Eve on a remote mining post with a violent man, taking Harry Mudd along with him for trial.

If Eve, Ruth, and Magda are “cargo,” then there is nothing wrong with Captain Kirk, Harry Mudd, or the miners’ actions. You cannot bruise a sexy automoton. Its tears have no meaning. It has no will or sense of adventure or right to privacy. It cannot yearn for freedom. But if Eve, Ruth, and Magda are people, then Mudd was cruel to withhold medical care they believed they needed; Captain Kirk was cruel to trade their bodies and lives for fuel; and the writers are cruel for writing a narrative that expected us to go along with it.

All in all, the metaphysics and the intended humanity of the women in this episode were as clear as mud.

One star.

(Will the next episode be better? Join us tonight at 8:30 PM (Pacific AND Eastern — two showings) to find out!!)

Here's the invitation!



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Science Fiction/Fantasy, TV

[October 19, 1966] Routine Missions and Asimovian Robots: Space Patrol Orion Episode 3: "Guardians of the Law"

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by Cora Buhlert

A Routine Mission

After pulling out all the stops in episode 2, what would Raumpatrouille Orion do for an encore? Well, instead of threatening the entire solar system this time around, writer Rolf Honold and W.G. Larsen have opted for a more low-key adventure for the Orion 8 and her brave crew.

And so episode 3 "Hüter des Gesetzes" (Guardians of the Law) opens with that most routine of situations, namely a robotics training course for Space Fleet personnel, including the Orion crew. The Orion crew seems bored, but my interest perked up once robotics specialist Rott (Alfons Höckmann) mentioned the Three Laws of Robotics. Yes, Isaac Asimov's famous Three Laws of Robotics exist in the Space Patrol Orion universe.

Space Patrol Orion Rott
Rott (Alfons Höckmann) is lecturing.
Space Patrol Orion
The Orion crew is bored by the class.

The Alpha CO work robots seen in this episode are a far cry from the clumsy humans in spray-painted cardboard boxes that we have seen in so many science fiction films. These robots are curious floating (thanks to the magic of bluescreen technology) ovals with multiple arms equipped with tools, among them an ice cream scoop and a forceps, so the robots can both serve ice cream and deliver babies. The fact that these robots don't even look remotely human imbues them with a subtle menace.

Space Patrol Orion
Rott demonstrates an Alpha CO work robot.

That menace becomes not so subtle when Rott makes a robot go berserk and trash the classroom, before fixing it with a small adjustment. At this point, the Orion crew are called away for what turns out to be a dull routine job retrieving readings from space probes.

Once the Orion 8 reaches its area of operations, Atan Shubashi (F.G. Beckhaus) and Helga Legrelle (Ursula Lillig) get into a Lancet for the first work shift. Meanwhile, the Orion receives a message from the ore freighter Sikh 12 under the command of Commodore Ruyther (Helmut Brasch), an old friend of McLane's. Ruyther has a problem. The Sikh 12 is supposed to haul ore from the asteroid Pallas to Earth, but upon its last trip the sealed ore rockets turned out to be filled with spoil instead. Furthermore, the miners on Pallas are not responding to Ruyther's calls. Ruyther reported this, but true to form Space Fleet Command only cares about the missing ore, not the miners.

Space Patrol Orion Commodore Ruyther
A call from Commodore Ruyther (Helmut Brasch)

It doesn't take long to convince McLane (Dietmar Schönherr) to head to Pallas to investigate. Security officer Tamara Jagellovsk (Eva Plug) unsuccessfully tries to overrule him, but gives in, when McLane points out that human lives might be in danger. Once again, McLane violates regulations and ignores orders and once again, he does so to save lives. I'm sensing a pattern here.

So far, most interactions between McLane and Tamara consist of arguing and sniping, but you can see the growing respect between these two. And the knowing grins on the faces of Hasso and Mario show that they know that McLane and Tamara will kiss before the season is over. Helga Legrelle knows it, too, and is less than happy about it.

Tamara also points out that if Space Fleet Command finds out that the Orion 8 has left its area of operations, McLane will be in trouble once again (apparently, gratitude for saving the Earth wears off fast). However, McLane has the perfect solution to this problem, namely an old spacer's trick named "Laurin" after the dwarf king with the invisibility cap from medieval legend. And so McLane orders Helga and Atan to project an energy field the size of the Orion with their Lancet to fool sensors, while the Orion leaves for Pallas.

Space Patrol Orion
Mario (Wolfgang Völz), McLane (Dietmar Schönherr), Tamara Jagellovsk (Eva Pflug) and Hasso (Claus Holm) look quite happy that they get to take a trip to Pallas.

Orion Does Asimov

The Orion lands on Pallas (portrayed by a pitch coal mine in Preißenberg, Bavaria) and cannot hail the miners either. So McLane, Tamara, Hasso Sigbjörnson (Claus Holm) and Mario de Monti (Wolfgang Völz) explore the mine and find it deserted, the crew gone.

Space Patrol Orion
The Orion 8 lands on Pallas, portrayed by a pitch coal mine in Preißberg, Bavaria.
Space Patrol Orion
The Orion crew explores the deserted mine on Pallas.

Space Patrol Orion
Better use your handguns, when exploring a creepy deserted mine.

At last, they encounter signs of life, two Alpha CO work robots like the ones in the opening scene. However, these robots are armed – with ray guns, not ice cream scoops and forceps. They capture and disarm the Orion crew and take them to the mines, where they finally find the miners, held prisoner and forced to work. The Three Laws of Robotics forbid robots to harm humans, so what is going on here?

Space Patrol Orion robots
The robots hold the Orion crew at gun point.
Space Patrol Orion
The robots are coming.
Space Patrol Orion robots
The robots hold the Orion crew and the miners prisoner.

From this point on, "Guardians of the Law" plays out very much like Isaac Asimov's stories about Dr. Susan Calvin or robot troubleshooters Powell and Donovan from the 1940s. A robot is misbehaving in dangerous ways, so our heroes try to figure out what has gone wrong and how to fix it. The answer usually lies in the Three Laws of Robotics.

And this is exactly what happens. McLane and Tamara, who displays a surprising amount of knowledge about robotics, question the miners and learn that the robots malfunctioned after they witnessed a shoot-out between the miners and drug gang. Humans shooting humans caused a conflict regarding the First Law of Robotics and fried the robots' brains.

Unfortunately, the resident robot specialist was killed in the shoot-out, so the miners have no one to solve the problem. Tamara thinks she can reprogram the robots, but first she needs to get close to them. So McLane devises a plan to lure the robots into the mine and cause a cave-in to immobilise them long enough for Tamara to reprogram them. The plan is successful, too. The reprogrammed robots return the Orion crew's weapons, which they use to shoot the remaining robots. This part is very reminiscent of Isaac Asimov's 1944 Powell and Donovan story "Catch That Rabbit!"

Space Patrol Orion
Tamara reprograms the robots.

Tamara was sidelined in "Planet Off Course", but she gets plenty to do in this episode (ditto for Helga) and her robotics experience saves the day. There are also more hints that Tamara might be a robot herself, when she responds to Hasso and Mario's jokes by telling them that she is a sophisticated Epsilon android. So is Tamara just pulling their legs or is she telling the truth?

The New Yardstick for Spaceship Captains

Meanwhile, a different drama is unfolding in space. For the "Laurin" illusion that Atan and Helga are projecting is draining the shuttle's energy reserves. Atan has absolute faith that McLane will return before their energy runs out. Helga has faith in McLane as well, but points out that the crew might have run into trouble, because McLane takes too many chances. And so she wants to deactivate the Laurin illusion and head for Pallas to see if the rest of the crew need help. Atan eventually agrees, but it's too late. The Lancet's energy reserves are used up and their shields and life support are failing.

Space Patrol Orion
Atan (F.G. Beckhaus) and Helga (Ursula Lillig) aboard the Lancet and in danger.

Luckily, the Orion shows up in the nick of time. Helga has passed out and Atan is babbling incoherently. McLane first makes sure that Helga gets medical attention. Then he turns to the incoherent and understandably angry Atan and he asks him why the hell he didn't switch off the Laurin illusion. "I didn't have an order to switch it off," Atan replied, whereupon McLane tells him not to wait for orders, but use his own damned brain. McLane even uses a strong swearword – not aimed at Atan, with whom he's uncommonly gentle, but referring to the Laurin illusion – I have personally never heard used on West German TV to date. I predict complaints and angry letters.

After three episodes, I am liking McLane more and more. Yes, McLane may be a maverick, he may occasionally act like an anti-feminist towards Tamara and he may be overly emotional at times, but he clearly cares about people and breaks rules and ignores orders to save lives. Nor does McLane expect blind obedience from his crew, but wants them to think for themselves. The Orion crew may be fanatically loyal to McLane, but he has earned that loyalty.

Space Patrol Orion
The Orion crew celebrates after saving the day again.

Science fiction is full of spaceship captains, but McLane is quickly becoming not only my favourite, but also the yardstick against which all other captains shall be measured. I'm pretty sure that I will ask myself, "What would Commander McLane do?" for a long time to come. For example, imagine how different Tom Godwin's "The Cold Equations" would have played out with McLane in charge.

Space Patrol Orion
Commodore Ruyther is being questioned by a GSD agent (Nino Korda) about the missing ore shipments.

Back on Earth, Colonel Villa and General Wamsler investigate the mystery of the missing ore shipments and finally decide to do something about it. Wamsler wants to hail the Orion and send McLane to Pallas, whereupon his aide Lieutenant Spring-Brauner (Thomas Reiner being delightfully swarmy once again) confesses that he has mislaid the Orion and can't hail her. Unlike Spring-Brauner, Wamsler knows the Laurin trick and also lets McLane know that he knows, but is willing to cover for him.

Space Patrol Orion
General Wamsler (Benno Sterzenbach) interrupts the Orion's crew post-mission celebration at the Starlight Casino.
Space Patrol Orion Wamsler and McLane
Wamsler lets McLane know that he, too, knows the Laurin trick and has seen through him.

"Guardians of the Law" does not have the edge-of-your-seat suspense of "Planet Off Course", but is nonetheless another excellent episode of Raumpatrouille Orion with a plot straight from an Asimov robot story and lots of great character moments for both the crew and supporting characters like Villa and Wamsler.

After three great episodes, I can't wait for what the final four will offer.

Four stars

Bremer Freimarkt 1960er
Balloon and toy vendor at the 931st Bremer Freimarkt.
Bremer Freimarkt 1960s
The popular Calypso ride at the Bremer Freimarkt.
Bremer Freimarkt 1960s
A spooky dark ride at the Bremer Freimarkt.




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Science Fiction/Fantasy, TV

[October 18, 1966] Moral Dilemmas and Earth in Peril: Space Patrol Orion Episode 2: "Planet Off Course"

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by Cora Buhlert

Critical Voices

Last month, I wrote about the premiere of Raumpatrouille: Die Phantastischen Abenteuer des Raumschiffs Orion (Space Patrol: The Fantastic Adventures of the Spaceship Orion), West Germany's very first science fiction TV show. Since then, two more episodes have aired. But before we get to that, let's take a look at some reactions to the show, courtesy of both TV critics and viewers.

So far, science fiction had had no presence on West German TV, so professional TV critics were mostly baffled, to put it politely. The Berlin tabloid B.Z. called Orion "pseudoscientific nonsense" set in a "brainless utopia". The magazine Kirche und Fernsehen (Church and Television) lamented that the dialogues were too complicated for the viewers to understand, at least viewers not used to science fiction and gadget speak.

Hörzu October 1966
The latest issue of the Tv listings magazine Hörzu

Letters to the TV listings mag Hörzu show a range of audience reactions. Rolf Sch. from Bad Homburg declares that Orion is more suspenseful than Alfred Hitchcock and The Fugitive. Sebastian T. from Hamburg called Orion a milestone in the history of West German television and notes that Germany has not produced anything comparable since Fritz Lang's Frau im Mond (Woman in the Moon) in 1929.

Horst B. from Hamburg and O.R. from Constance both lament that a TV show set in the year 3000 still focusses on war and military themes, since they hope that humanity would have overcome its destructive impulses by then. Gerhard B. from Heilbronn correctly points out that according to current demographic trends, it's extremely unlikely to have an all-white spaceship crew in the year 3000 AD. Peter H.R. from Ottenbronn complains about scientific issues and notes that faster-than-light travel is not possible and that the Orion crew is unaffected by zero gravity.

Letters to Hörzu
Hörzu readers comment on the first episode of Space Patrol Orion

Dieter L. from Neuhede believes that science fiction is only suitable for children and Heiner S. from Bielefeld calls the series a waste of money. For Jupp W. from Degerloh his dislike for Space Patrol Orion at least has a silver lining, namely lots of time to read. We here at the Journey certainly have some recommendations for him, though I suspect he would not like them.

A Thriller in Space

Episode 2 "Planet Außer Kurs" (Planet Off Course) opens with my favourite supporting character from episode 1, General Lydia Van Dyke (Charlotte Kerr) in deep trouble. Her spaceship, the Hydra, is battered by a magnetic storm and has just made an alarming discovery. A planet that has been thrown out of its orbit and is now headed straight for Earth. The footage of the fiery rogue planet, supposedly a ball coated with fire gel and set alight, is certainly impressive. Unfortunately, the script proves Hörzu reader Peter H.R. from Ottenbronn right and insists on calling the rogue planet a "supernova".

Space Patrol Orion rogue planet
The rogue planet on the Hydra's viewscreen

The Hydra crew intercepts a transmission in an unknown code. Turns out that the Frogs, those dastardly aliens from episode 1, are back and busily hurtling random planets at Earth. In the first episode, "Frogs" was a merely nickname that Hasso Sigbjörnson and Atan Shubashi gave the aliens, but by episode 2 the moniker seems to have been universally adopted. General Van Dyke manages to send a warning to Earth, before contact breaks off.

Lydia Van Dyke
General Lydia Van Dyke (Charlotte Kerr) aboard the Hydra

While his former superior is fighting for her life aboard the Hydra, Commander Cliff Alister McLane (Dietmar Schönherr) of the Orion 7 is relaxing in the Starlight Casino and showing off his chest hair, when he is summoned to a meeting with the Supreme Space Authority.

Shirtless Commander McLane (Dietmar Schönherr) is summoned to a meeting with the Supreme Space Authority
Space Patrol Orion kids
These two little moppets in their miniature spacesuits only make a brief cameo appearance in this episode, but they're certainly cute.

Military Men and Moral Dilemmas

The various high-ranking military officials we met in episode 1 are arguing what to do about the rogue planet headed for Earth. For there are not nearly enough spaceships available to evacuate the population and besides, an evacuation would cause panic. Not that it matters much, because the civilian government, represented here by an official named von Wennerstein (Emil Stöhr), has no intention to evacuate Earth, even though the government itself is relocating to Mars.

Space Patrol Orion Generals
The Supreme Space Authority holds a tense meeting.

These moral dilemmas are familiar from works like J.T. McIntosh's 1954 novel One in Three Hundred or the 1951 movie When Worlds Collide, but there are real world parallels as well. Space fleet commander-in-chief Sir Arthur's comment that "Politicians will always find something to govern, even if everything is already gone" brings to mind that – should there ever be a nuclear war – governments will hide out in their bunkers to rule over a nuclear wasteland, while the population burns. The flat-out refusal to evacuate Earth in the face of overwhelming peril is also reminiscent of the final months of World War II, when the Nazi government forbade the evacuation of civilians from regions like East Prussia and Silesia, which were about to be overrun by the Red Army, because they wanted to keep the roads clear for military operations.

As for how the Frogs managed to establish a base and throw a planet out of orbit under the very noses of the space fleet, Colonel Villa of the Galactic Security Service (Friedrich Joloff) points out that a committee of scientists and military officers was formed to analyse the alien threat, but was way too smug and convinced of human superiority to achieve any results. I can't help to wonder whether Villa's remark isn't a barb aimed at John W. Campbell of Analog and his insistence on human superiority at all times. Especially since episode 3 shows that the writers are familiar with Astounding/Analog.

The civilian government is portrayed as cowardly and inefficient in this episode. However, when Sir Arthur (Franz Scharfheitlin) wonders whether it's time for a military coup, Colonel Villa promptly informs him that this is not only treason, but also not the solution to their problem. Even though the focus of Space Patrol Orion is on the military, the show is nonetheless committed to democracy.

More Moral Dilemmas… in Space

The assembled generals finally decide that the best course of action is to locate the Frog base and destroy it. Two hundred ships are dispatched, including the Orion 7.

The Orion crew detects the Frogs' signal, but can't triangulate the location of their base without another signal. This is supplied by General Van Dyke aboard the stricken Hydra, once the Orion manages to hail them.

This leads to another of the moral dilemmas so beloved by philosophy undergraduate classes, for McLane wants to rescue General Van Dyke and the Hydra crew before destroying the Frog base. General Van Dyke, however, orders McLane to destroy the base, because the fate of Earth outweighs that of the five people aboard the Hydra. The interactions between McLane and Lydia Van Dyke (with whom he is on a first name basis) suggest that their relationship more than just professional.

Space Patrol Orion General Lydia van Dyke
General Lydia Van Dyke orders McLane to save the Earth rather than her.

Because McLane will never listen to just one woman, Tamara Jagellovsk also orders him to forget about the Hydra and destroy the base. In order to emphasise her words, she even pulls a gun on McLane. McLane isn't really the type to be intimidated either by guns or by Tamara, but he eventually relents. The fate of Earth really does outweigh that of five people, even if McLane is close to one of them.

This tense moment not only gives Dietmar Schönherr and Eva Pflug the chance to show off their acting skills, but it also demonstrates that McLane's emotions are both his greatest strength and his greatest weakness. Because McLane cares about people and will not casually abandon them. During the meeting with the generals, McLane is the only one who actually seems to care about the fate of the Hydra.

Space Patrol Orion General Lydia Van Dyke
General Lydia Van Dyke has put on a spacesuit in order to survive aboard the damaged Hydra.

Try, Fail and Try Again

The Orion fires at the Frog base and manages to destroy it in another impressive special effect. However, it is to no avail, because the rogue planet is still headed for Earth. So the Orion crew decide to destroy the rogue planet with antimatter bombs, a risky manoeuvre which might get them all killed.

After some calculations made on a futuristic Etch A Sketch type writing tablet, the crew get to work. However, the engineering and weapons consoles explode, wounding chief engineer Hasso Sigbjörnson (Claus Holm) and weapons officer Mario de Monti (Wolfgang Völz). As a result, Mario releases the bombs too late and the explosions fail to destroy the rogue planet.

Etch a Sketch
In the future, Etch-a-Sketch tablets are not just toys, but will be used like notepads today.

There's only one course of action left. Crash the Orion into the rogue planet. So the Orion crew pile into the two Lancet shuttles and watch as their ship explodes in a fiery inferno along with the rogue planet. The Lancets are too small and underpowered to reach the nearest starbase, so they try to make it to the damaged Hydra.

Space Patrol Orion episode 2
Atan Shubashi (F.G. Beckhaus), Mario de Monti (Wolfgang Völz) and Helga Legrelle (Ursula Lillig) aboard Lancet 2
Space Patrol Prion episode 2
Hasso takes a spacewalk.

They find the Hydra without power and not responding to hails, so Hasso takes a risky spacewalk and manually engages the Hydra's landing clamps. However, Hasso passes out before he can complete the manoeuvre, so McLane has to race through the airless and overheated ship without even a spacesuit, as Hasso is wearing the only one they have. Since McLane is the hero, he succeeds and also rescues the General Van Dyke and the Hydra crew, who had retreated to the ship's cryogenic chambers.

Space Patrol Orion Hasso and McLane
Hasso has passed out in spite of his spacesuit, so McLane has to finish the job – without a spacesuit.

Back on Earth, the assembled generals are overjoyed that the rogue planet has been destroyed, though they assume that the Orion crew perished in the process. The only ones who seem to be bothered by this are General Wamsler (Benno Sterzenbach), McLane's direct superior, and Colonel Villa. Meanwhile. characters like Sir Arthur and Marshal Kublai-Krim (Hans Cossy) bring to mind World War II generals who happily sacrificed thousands of lives for questionable victories.

The episode ends with McLane signing paperwork regarding the destruction of the Orion. We also learn that the ship's designation was Orion 7, because this was already the seventh Orion, suggesting that McLane has already trashed six previous ships.

I loved the premiere of Space Patrol Orion, but episode 2 managed to be even better, a taut thriller that alternates between the tense general staff scenes on Earth and the equally tense scenes aboard the Orion and Hydra. Besides, you have to admire the guts of a show, which almost destroys the Earth and blows up the titular ship in the second episode.

Five stars

Stay tuned for my review of episode 3 "Hüter des Gesetzes" (Guardians of the Law) coming tomorrow

Bremer Freimarkt 1960s
Spacy fun may also be found on the 931st Bremer Freimarkt, Bremen's traditional autumn fair
Bremer Freimarkt
The impressive Sputnik ride on the Bremer Freimarkt




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Magazine, Science Fiction/Fantasy

[October 16, 1966] Only the Lonely (November 1966 Fantastic)

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by Victoria Silverwolf
with apologies to Roy Orbison

Solitary Confinement

To be a citizen of a nation inside another nation must be a very lonely feeling. Italy contains two of these countries, the tiny nations of San Marino and Vatican City. A third member of that exclusive club came into existence on October 4, when the former British colony of Basutoland won full independence, changing its name to the Kingdom of Lesotho. Lesotho is completely surrounded by the nation of South Africa.


King Moshoehoe II, constitutional monarch of Lesotho.

A Song for the Sorrowful

You don't have to be living in any of those three countries to feel lonely, of course. People experiencing that painful emotion might obtain some solace from the current Number One song on the American popular music charts. The Four Tops have a smash hit with their powerful ballad Reach Out (I'll Be There), with lyrics that are clearly aimed at a lonesome listener.


They seem to be reaching out to the record buyer.

Fiction for the Forlorn

Appropriately, the latest issue of Fantastic is full of stories featuring characters who are literally, or metaphorically, isolated.


Cover art by Bob Hilbreth, stolen from the December 1946 issue of Amazing Stories.


The original, illustrating a story that was part of the infamous Shaver Mystery.

Broken Image, by Thomas N. Scortia


Illustrations by Gray Morrow.

The only new story in this issue features a protagonist who feels himself estranged from those around him, human or not.

His name is Baldur, and he has been surgically altered to resemble one of the humanoid aliens inhabiting a planet for which Earthlings have plans. It seems that humanity has evolved beyond sectarianism and violence, and seeks to bring the blessings of peace to other worlds.

(If I sound a little sarcastic, that's because the story's view of humanity is somewhat ambiguous. Baldur is completely loyal to the idea of Man as a perfect being, but his vision of the species is, as we'll see, a little distorted.)

One group of aliens oppresses another, going so far as to execute rebels in a particularly gruesome way.


Such as this.

The plan is to have Baldur act as a messiah for the lower class. Highly advanced technology allows him to perform healings and other miracles.

(At this point, you've probably figured out that Baldur is intended as a Christ figure. The oppressors are kind of like the Romans, the lower class is sort of like the Judeans, and so on. Given that analogy, some of what happens won't surprise you. The character's name also suggests an allusion to myths about the Norse god Baldr, sometimes spelled Balder or — a ha! — Baldur.)

There's a human woman, also in disguise, to help Baldur in his role as the savior of the oppressed. However, it turns out that she's hiding something from him, and that the folks in the starship orbiting the planet have schemes of which he is not aware.

This is a pretty good story, which held my interest all the way through. The Christian metaphor might be too blatant, and there's a twist ending that made me scratch my head. It explains why Baldur thinks of humanity as superior to other species, but I'm not sure if it really works.

(One interesting thing is that Baldur is not only physically changed, but mentally as well. His memories seem to be slightly distorted. Since we see everything from his point of view, although the story is told in third person, he serves as what some literary critics are starting to call an unreliable narrator. This all goes along with the twist ending.)

Three stars.

You're All Alone, by Fritz Leiber


Illustrations by Henry Sharp.

There's a title that suggests loneliness, for sure.

Before I get into the story itself, let me go over the rather complex history of the text. It seems that Leiber intended it to appear in Unknown, the fantasy magazine edited by John W. Campbell, Jr. as a companion to Astounding. Unknown died before the story could be published.

Leiber expanded the work from about forty thousand words to approximately seventy-five thousand, hoping to have a book publisher accept it as part of their fantasy line. The company stopped publishing fantasy before it sold.

Back to the drawing board! Leiber next sent it to Fantastic Adventures, who agreed to buy it if — guess what? — it was cut back to forty thousand words. It finally appeared in the July 1950 issue. That's the version that's been reprinted in the current issue of Fantastic.


Cover art by Robert Gibson Jones.

We're not done yet! The seventy-five thousand word version wound up as one half of a double paperback, under the name The Sinful Ones. The publisher came up with the suggestive new title, altered the text slightly to make it racier, and added sexy chapter titles like The Strip Tease and Blonde Prostitute, trying to convince the reader that it was hot stuff.


Anonymous cover art. The companion novel, about a lady bullfighter, looks . . . interesting.

Back to the story itself. (At forty thousand words, it actually justifies, if just barely, its label by the magazine as a Complete Novel.)

Carr Mackay works at an employment agency in Chicago. A frightened young woman comes into his office, followed by a big blonde woman. The younger woman is obviously terrified of the blonde, but tries to ignore her. She talks to Carr, pretending to have a job interview, and asking him if he's one of them.


By the way, the blonde woman has a big, vicious, scary pet dog, but it's not anywhere near as large as shown in this illustration, or the cover of Fantastic Adventures!

Before leaving, she scribbles a note warning him to watch out for the blonde and her two male companions, and leaving a cryptic message to meet her at a certain location if he wants to learn more.

Of course, this all sounds like the paranoid ravings of a lunatic. Things get weirder when the blonde slaps the young woman across the face, and she forces herself not to react. Then a co-worker shows up, acting as if he's introducing Carr to somebody, but there's nobody there. Some kind of practical joke?

It's hard to deny that something strange is going on when Carr shows up at his girlfriend's place, and she goes through the motions of greeting and kissing him, but he's not where she apparently thinks he is. She ignores the real Carr, and continues to interact with an imaginary one.


She should really be smooching the empty air instead of a ghostly figure, but that's artistic license for you.

Although he's reluctant to accept the truth, Carr realizes that almost all humans are mindless automatons, just going through the motions like wind-up toys. Only a very few, like the young woman, the blonde and her companions, and himself, are conscious beings. He meets with the woman, leading to dangerous encounters with sinister folks and wild adventures in a world full of clockwork people and those who take advantage of the situation.


A moment of happiness in a public library after hours. I like the subtle hint that the light above their heads is an eye watching them.

The premise is a fascinating one, and the author conveys it in a convincing manner. There's some philosophical depth to the idea, too. Who among us hasn't felt like a cog in a big machine? It moves very quickly, almost like a Keith Laumer novel. (Maybe the longer version allows for more exploration of the concept.)

I could quibble that not everything about the plot is completely logical. Inanimate objects sometimes act as if they're part of the mindless mechanism of life, and sometimes don't. The conscious people are able to knock off the hats of the automatons, for example, and steal their drinks, but the keys of a piano move by themselves when the person supposed to be playing them isn't there.


The floating hands are more artistic license.

Despite this tiny flaw, and the fact that the ending seems rushed, it's an enjoyable short novel. As you'd expect from Leiber, it's well-written. As a bonus, it provides a vivid portrait of the city of Chicago, in all its bright and dark aspects.

Four stars.

Breakfast at Twilight, by Philip K. Dick


Cover art by Clarence Doore.

From the July 1954 issue of Amazing Stories comes this tale of a family isolated from their own time.


Anonymous illustration.

Mom, Dad, and three kids are enjoying a typical morning at home, although there's some kind of fog or smoke outside, and the radio isn't working. The lone boy heads off for school, but quickly comes back. There are soldiers everywhere blocking his way.

It turns out that their home is now seven years in the future. The Cold War has heated up, leading to a dystopian society. (Apparently a bomb caused the time travel effect.) The soldiers are stunned to see a woman and children out in the open, and are even more amazed at the food available in the house.

A political officer (another sign that the United States government has become authoritarian, along with the casually mentioned book burning) suggests that they wait for another bomb to send them back to their own time.

Although the plot is simple enough for an episode of Twilight Zone, this is a powerful story, sending a clear warning of the dangers of escalating world conflicts. (The theme seems even more relevant today, with the situation in Vietnam, than it did just after the Korean War.)

Four stars.

Scream at Sea, by Algis Budrys


Cover art by Vernon Kramer.

The January-February 1954 issue of the magazine provides this example of extreme loneliness.


Illustrations by Ernie Barth.

A man survives an explosion that destroys his ship. He manages to hang on to a piece of the vessel that's got some canned ham and water, so it serves him as a sort of raft. The ship's cat happens to escape the disaster as well.


The only other character in the story.

The author manages to create a true sense of isolation and desperation. It's not a bad piece, but there isn't a trace of science fiction or fantasy at all! There's a twist in the tail that would have been more appropriate for Alfred Hitchcock's Mystery Magazine than Fantastic.

(By the way, the editor's blurbs for the last two stories are backwards! I guess that's a sign of how little the publisher cares for these poorly funded magazines full of unpaid reprints.)

Three stars.

Edgar Rice Burroughs: The Artists Behind Him, by Anonymous

Serving as a coda is this portfolio of illustrations for stories by ERB that appeared in Amazing years ago.


For The Land That Time Forgot (1918, reprinted 1927), illustration by Frank R. Paul.


Same credits as above.


For The City of the Mummies (1941), illustration by J. Allen St. John.


For Black Pirates of Barsoom, same year, same artist.


For Goddess of Fire, same year, same artist.

I don't have much to say about these old-fashioned pictures. They're OK.

Three stars.

Some Solace For Solitude

If you're feeling lonesome, picking up a copy of this issue might provide some relief for a few hours. All the stories are worth reading, and a couple of them are better than average. If that doesn't raise your spirits sufficiently, visiting your neighbors might do the trick.


That astronaut won't be lonely. Cartoon by Frosty from the same issue as the Budrys story.




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Book, Science Fiction/Fantasy

[October 14, 1966] Alien Worlds in Precise Detail (Galactoscope)

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The Gate of Time by Philip Jose Farmer


by Mx. Kris Vyas-Myall

SF books are like buses, you wait forever for one you want to pick up, then many come along at once. From the weird spy drama of Kingsley Amis’ Anti-Death League, to Andre Norton’s space fantasy The Moon of Three Rings. From Brian W. Aldiss’ collection The Saliva Tree & Other Growths, to expansions from Disch and Zelazny. However, our esteemed editor steered me towards Farmer’s new novel, and I am very glad he did.

Down the Path

I am starting to see through lines in the current crop of great SF writers. J. G. Ballard has been doing his cut-up explorations of Inner Space. Harry Harrison is involved in grim satires of conservative issues. Rosel George Brown has begun writing novels that put her own unique stamp on space adventures. Whilst Roger Zelazny is applying a literary and philosophical twist to the standard scenarios of science fiction and fantasy.

However, Philip Jose Farmer is harder to pin down. What connects the fabulous tales of Riverworld, the sword & wonder novels of Robert Wolff, and the religious exploration of Night of Light? Perhaps his latest novel,The Gate of Time, holds the key?

Through the Doorway

One thing that needs to be noted before I start. This cover bears no relation to the book itself, as best as I can tell (except the existence on men and women in the story). Possibly it was originally intended for another novel and reused?

Whatever the case may be, here is the actual plot of Farmer’s work: Lt. Roger Two Hawks is a half-Iroquoian pilot in WW2. He is going on a bombing raid on the oil fields in Ploetsi when his bomber and a German fighter crash land on a strange Earth. In this one there is another war going on between the Prussian-esque Perkunisha and the Anglo-Nordic Blodland, the latter in alliance with Eastern Europe states whose people seem to be Amerinds. Both sides are aware of these strange visitors and want the technology of their planes to tip the tide in the war.

(As an aside, Two Hawks names this world "Earth 2", which is how I will refer to it going forward. As he makes mention of comic books in the text, I am assuming this a reference to the Earth 2 seen in National Comics' Flash and Justice League of America.)

Earth 2 is built on an interesting premise: what if America had remained largely underwater? A lesser writer would probably do something like all of Europe submerged into a conflict of the totalitarian states of England and France, with the brave American outlander teaching the people the true value of democracy and leading them in a revolution, where he becomes the first president of the United States of Europe.

But not Farmer; he thinks things through in much greater detail. He considers how language and culture would change, the Amerind states that would exist in Europe and Asia, the weather patterns from the differing position of the Gulf Stream and much more. As Farmer posits what is missing from the Earth 2 without the Americas, he shows how pivotal the American continent has been to world history in a vast number of ways. In doing so he creates one of his most fleshed out worlds.

Two Hawks avoids being the kind of cliché you might find in, for example, a Mack Reynolds story. He says he is as much a part of mainstream White American culture as he is Iroquoian. And he regularly rejects people’s assumptions of him, such as believing he grew up on a reservation. His knowledge is of mechanics, history and science, not the kind of spiritual and earthy traditional you usually see depicted in Amerind characters.

Whilst, by necessity, large parts of the plot are told through long conversations about the nature of Earth 2 and how it compares to Earth 1 (Two Hawks’ Earth), I never found myself being bogged down. This is a pacey thriller where I was constantly engaged and wanting to know what happened next.

This does lead to my most major issue with the text: the simplicity of plot at times. Once you get past the differences in the world, it is largely a pulpy World War Two adventure. We have Germans (by geography if not ethnicity) who are committing genocidal acts against Eastern European populations and the British fighting them. Two Hawks allies with the British stand ins, not out of some moral sense (he says he doesn’t really think there is that much difference between nations in this world) but instead because he just doesn’t like Germans. At the same time the imported German pilot, Raske, is an opportunistic villain not given any more depth than being a tricky antagonist for Two Hawks.

Farmer would also have us believe history aligns on other Earths. If things are so different, why was there also a First World War where the Perkunishans were defeated? Why does Blodland have Dravidian (Indian) bases? Why are languages so similar between the Earths? The reason just seems to be, “because”.

I don’t want to be overly harsh. There is still a lot to like. I want to also note the framing device, which is used to pull off a final twist to great effect. The only other time I can think of a similar device being used is in Pierre Boulle’s Monkey Planet.

All of this adds up to another fantastic entry in Farmer’s bibliography.

On the Other Side of the Wall

But, to return to my original question: what is it that holds together the disparate threads of Farmers fiction? I think it is the worlds themselves. Earth 2 in The Gate of Time is just as well conceived and memorable as Riverworld or Okeanas.

As such I hope we get more tales in this setting. Whether that be Two Hawks visiting more timelines, or just more of the history of Earth 2.

A solid four stars

Planet of Exile by Ursula K. LeGuin


by Jason Sacks

Imagine a world that has been colonized – but the colonizers have lived on that world so long that their descendents have nearly forgotten their original roots.

And imagine those colonizers have the ability to communicate with each other using a kind of telepathy that always keeps them in contact with each other.

And imagine a world with a sixty-year rotation around its sun, a rotation so slow that seasons take years in our time. In fact, it's a rotation so slow that grown adults have no idea what winter will be like and have never seen snow.

And imagine on that world, there are groups who are at war with each other for the limited resources on that planet. And that the colonizers are caught in the middle of that war.

And finally, imagine an independent local woman and a passionate colonist meet, become fascinated with each other, get married impulsively, and become embroiled in a war.

Sounds like the recipe for a 400-page book, right?

And yet Ursula K. LeGuin creates a whole. compelling, intriguing  world in a mere 125 pages in Planet of Exile.

Earlier this year I enthused over LeGuin's debut novel Rocannon's World, praising the author for her strengths in building a complex fictional environment and for bridging the gap between fantasy and science fiction. Planet of Exile builds on those strengths, taking readers to a world that seems vivid on the page, with complex interrelationships, intriguing characters and a background which seems to go back hundreds of years.

LeGuin smartly starts the book by anchoring readers in the experiences of the independent woman, Rolery, who is wandering through a forest at the "last moonphase of autumn"  (as LeGuin states it) and is startled by a barefoot runner dashing through the woods towards her native town of Tovar. But Rolery goes the opposite direction, towards the village of the "farborn"; forbidden, mysterious, a place she could scarcely imagine but which holds great fascination for her. In that farborn village, she meets a farborn man named Jacob Agat whose life changes her and changes the city of Tovar.

Planet of Exile is an odd book in part because this relationship feels so insubstantial and unreal. This mismatched couple don't fall in love as much as they fall into admiration, or caring, or simply desperately feel the need for deep companionship. Lesser writers might have created a simple Romeo and Juliet type relationship between Rolery and Agat. But LeGuin's ambitions seem well beyond the obvious cliché and instead she explores more complex ideas like assimilation, battles for resources, and the complex struggles to thrive in an alien environment.

If LeGuin merely touches upon those ideas rather than dwells on them, well, blame that on the page length and consider this young author may merely need to grow into fully exploring these concepts.

Ms. LeGuin

About half this book is taken up with the battles between the barbaric nomads, the Gaal, and the people of Tevara. The battles are often seen as slivers, in fragments, through the eyes of the different characters of this book rather than in omniscient form. As such, the events feel extraordinarily vivid. I was deeply struck by a scene of the invading Gaal force and their supporters so large they filled one large valley from end to end, with more of them coming. And a rooftop battle reflected a wonderful combination of Errol Flynn style derring-do and alien landscapes.

All of this thoughtful inventiveness makes for a tremendously entertaining and tremendously dense read, accentuated by LeGuin's empathetic and often poetic writing which has a fantastic knack for bringing alien situations to life. There's a kind of ecstatic forward-hurtling beauty in a paragraph like this one that had me entranced:

She the stranger, the foreigner, of alien blood and mind, did not share his power or his conscience or his knowledge or his exile. She shared nothing at all with him, but had met him and joined with him wholly and immediately across the gulf of thier great difference: as if it were the difference, the alienness between them, that let them meet, and that in joining together, freed them.

Ultimately, Planet of Exile is a novel of aspirations not quite met. War is fought and attacks repelled at great cost.  Relationships start but never reach an emotionally satisfying happy ending. Many complex questions are raised but never quite answered. And the character of Rolery is intriguing in her independence and agency, in her impulsive decisions and her steadfast curiousity, but she never becomes the three-dimensional character LeGuin obviously saw in her mind.

I concluded my review of Ms. LeGuin's earlier novel with a wish to read more novels that would realize the promise of this exciting new author. I am left now in a similar position, albeit perhaps closer to that realization.

3.5 stars

[Note: the flip side of this Double, Mankind Under the Leash, is an expansion of the 1965 story White Fang Goes Dingo (Ed.)]




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