When you think "outer space", you don't usually think of weather. In fact, weather in space is a bit like weather on Earth: there's wind, turbulence, a steady rain, and occasional storms. Except that the wind and rain are the sun's ceaseless spray of charged particles along with their attendant magnetic fields. The storms are the result of solar flares, those sudden unsettled periods when fiery prominences reach out from the sun's surface.
These phenomena can even be sensed by humans—as aurorae where the solar wind interacts with the Earth's magnetic field, and as the crackle of static on a shortwave radio. For satellites and space travelers, the solar radiation, particularly during flares, can damage electronics and internal organs. There are thus a lot of reasons it would be practical to have a space weather report, just as we have a daily weather report down here on Earth.
Northern Lights, 1921, by Sydney Laurence
This is why the Pioneer series of solar weather satellites, the first launched December 16, 1965 and the latest launched on November 8th of this year, was created: to serve as long-term weather sentinels in space, the interplanetary equivalent of our TIROS weather satellites.
Prior to the launch of Pioneer 6 (no relation to Pioneer 5 or its predecessors save for the name), the mapping of the solar wind had been a strictly local affair. The Interplanetary Monitoring Platform satellites, Explorers 18, 21, 28, 33, 34, and 35, have all been launched in high Earth orbits to survey the solar wind between the Earth and the moon. This is in service of the Apollo program.
The aforementioned Pioneer 5 and interplanetary probes like Mariner 2 have made preliminary forays into true interplanetary space beyond the Earth/moon region, but those missions only lasted a few months. The interplanetary Pioneers will be on station for years.
Launched on Delta rockets (the direct descendants of the Thor-Able rockets that launched the first Pioneers toward the moon), Pioneers 6-9 (and eventually #10, next year), were hurled into orbits that parallel our own, but further out in the case of Pioneers 7, 8, and 9; a little closer to the sun in the case of Pioneer 6. The outer ones orbit a little more slowly while P6 zooms a little faster. As a result, they all spread out, making a necklace of stations around the sun.
Pioneer 6 was launched in 1965 during the lull in the sun's 11 year cycle called "the solar minimum". The hope was that we would get continuous data as the sun increased in activity, flaring more and more often. We have not been disappointed. On July 7, 1966, a big shock front from a solar flare enveloped Explorer 33. 45 hours later, Pioneer 6 was hit. Interestingly, because of the time delay, even though both probes were similar distances from the sun (but far apart in orbit, of course), it is believed those might have been the result of two different flares, or perhaps two disturbances from the same one.
When the Pioneers were launched, scientists had a basic idea of that the solar wind looked like the spiral spray of a sprinkler head, this caused by the 28-day rotation of the sun. But the instruments onboard the sophisticated Pioneers afforded much more detailed analysis of these streams and fields. The Pioneers have found that the local magnetic fields will suddenly flip every so often. Their microstructure is like woven filaments, far more complicated than we had previously conceived.
High-level view of the "sprinkler" spray of the solar wind
Pioneers 7 and 8 sailed through the Earth's magnetosheath, that magnetic shadow formed as the sun's wind interacts and deflects around the Earth. Comparing their results to the closer-in Explorer 33, they found that this shadow tail gets more diffuse, more like the background interplanetary wind at greater distances, which is what one would expect.
The Earth's magnetic field (you can see the figure 8 Van Allen Belts) and the long, trailing, magnetosheath.
The Pioneer satellites are well-placed for more than just solar science. Pioneers 8 and 9 are equipped with cosmic-ray telescopes designed to measure the chemical composition and sprectra of the galactic wind—the higher-energy rain of particles from beyond our solar system. But the coolest use of the Pioneers so far (to me) is when Pioneer 7 was used to measure the lunar ionosphere. On January 20, 1967, the moon "occulted" (blocked) the space probe, as seen from Earth. Radio waves were beamed from a 150-foot dish run by Stanford past the edge of the moon. They found that the scattering that resulted can't be explained just by the physical rocks of the lunar surface. There must be a tenuous "atmosphere" above the moon, at least on the sunlit side, created at high altitudes by interactions between the solar wind and the surface of the moon.
There's actually a lot more, esoteric stuff that's way above my head. And there will be plenty more as the Pioneers will probably keep going for many more years. Though they haven't gotten much press, I think these are some of the most exciting missions to date. Stay tuned!
My, what big…rockets you have!
Three years ago, I made a brief announcement about the launch of a new Soviet probe, one so enormous that its size alone had ramifications for the future of the Communist space program. Proton, launched July 16, 1965, massed a whopping twelve tons, making it the biggest single object put in orbit until the November 1967 launch of Apollo 4. That means that the USSR has a Saturn-class rocket in its stable, which is why the concerns about an imminent moon mission have grounding.
Since Proton 1, three more Protons have been sent into orbit, the latest just two days ago on November 16th. Proton 4 weighs seventeen tons, which will beat all records—at least until Apollo 8 goes up in December.
Why are they so heavy? Because they carry heavy instruments. Protons 1 and 2 included a gamma-ray telescope, a scintillator telescope, and proportional counters. These counters were able to determine the total energy of each super-high energy cosmic particle individually, a capability no prior satellite had possessed, measuring cosmic rays with energy levels up to 100 million electron volts.
In addition to the above equipment, the fourteen ton Proton 3 was also equipped with a two-ton gas-Cerenkov-scintillator telescope. Its goal was to attempt to detect the "quark", a brand new theoretical sub-particle that, according to theory, makes up all atomic particles. Presumably, Proton 4 mounts a similar device with refinements.
Unlike most Soviet satellites, whose missions are shrouded in secrecy, data from the experiements onboard the first two Protons have produced at least five scientific papers on cosmic rays. I haven't seen anything on Proton 3, but astronauts on Gemini 11 managed to snap a picture of it in September 1966!
Will the advanced experiments on Proton 4 produce a scientific bonanza to rival that of the Pioneers? Only time will tell. For now, the papers are more obsessed with the rocket than the satellite.
A school for young wizards: What could possibly go wrong!
I wanted to like last year's City of Illusions, but the book fell flat. However, I saw the potential in Ursula K. Le Guin as a writer. Her ideas in the book were good, it was the execution that was lacking, so with her latest book out, A Wizard of Earthsea,I figured I’d give her another try.
Ged is an ambitious young wizard with a hunger for knowledge and power. The book follows his journey from childhood into adulthood, first starting when he attends a school for wizards. There he learns the basics of magic, makes friends and a rival. He also unleashes a dark being that wants him dead, but thanks to magic protection around the school, he is safe for the time being.
It isn’t until Ged graduates and becomes a practicing wizard for various villages that he really learns the hard lessons of magic. Now outside the protection of school, he is pursued by the dark being, eventually forced to turn and fight it, putting his skills to the ultimate test.
Fantasy as a genre doesn’t excite me as an adult, as it is often too whimsical and too escapist, too detached from our own world. A Wizard of Earthsea managed a careful balance, with an attention to the laws of magic and how it is able to be used. Wizards can only use so much magic at a time, and overexerting oneself or attempting a spell higher than one’s skill has physical consequences, causing wounds to appear on the body. Throughout the book, we see Ged test these limits, only to end up in lengthy recovery each time. Eventually, he does go too far and ends up permanently scarring himself.
I liked the concept of true names: learning the true name of a creature, plant, object or place is the key to all spells in this world. Even people have true names that they keep secret, instead using an alias in day to day life. While Ged is the main character’s true name, and the narrative refers to him as such, in dialogue he is called “Sparrowhawk” by other characters. I loved the intimate moments of friendship when true names were exchanged, showing a great amount of trust between characters.
Ged makes a compelling main character, with his distinctive flaw being his own hubris. Time and again, he tries magic that is way above his level only to be hurt. He attempts to raise the dead, despite knowing that it can’t be done, and suffers the consequences. It's because of his hubris that a dark creature is brought into the world who specifically hunts him, creating the main conflict of the book. But we’re shown that he has other values. He isn’t greedy. When he fights the dragon, his only motivation is duty to the town he serves. When the dragon offers him some of his treasure as a reward, he declines. Most of the time when Ged overexerts his magic, it isn’t in pursuit of fame. Ged truly wants to help people, even when it’s past his capabilities.
You know it's a good book when there's a map
With this book, I finally saw what I knew Le Guin was capable of as a writer. She's always created compelling unique worlds readers want to immerse themselves in, but now her writing can back up her ideas. Maybe because this is her first foray into juvenile fiction or perhaps she is simply growing as a writer.
I look forward to what she writes next.
Four stars.
by Victoria Silverwolf
Tomorrow and Yesterday
The latest Ace Double (H-95, two quarters and a dime at your local drug store paperback rack) contains one novel looking forward in time, and one collection glancing backwards at the author's recent career.
We begin with a brilliant mathematician from California sneaking around through a remote area of Wisconsin, ready to kill a man. We cut away from this scene to find a government agent from Washington, D.C., in Los Angeles, preparing to assassinate the richest man in the world.
Why all this homicidal intent?
Flashbacks tell us what's going on. John Androki is a fellow who shows up out of nowhere. He convinces a rich guy that he can predict exactly how stocks will move up or down in the future. The millionaire sets him up with some cash in exchange for the information. Androki goes on to not only be the wealthiest person on Earth (yep, he's the intended target of the government assassin) but to wield immense political power all over the world.
Our protagonist is Bertram Kane, a brilliant mathematician (yep, he's the guy stalking a man in Wisconsin) who is working on a theory of multiple dimensions. He's a widower who's having an on-again off-again affair with Anita Weber, an art professor. His buddy is Gordon Maxon, a professor of psychology.
Maxon is convinced that Androki can perceive the future (hence the novel's title.) He calls him a downthrough, a word that's new to me. Kane isn't convinced, but when Weber dumps him for the incredibly rich and powerful Androki, he becomes suspicious.
Things get scarier when other mathematicians working on multiple dimensions are murdered. Coincidence, or is Androki arranging for their deaths? And is Kane next on the list?
You may figure out the main plot gimmick, which explains why Kane is out to kill a completely innocent man. (The government assassin's motive is less mysterious. Androki is changing America's relations with other nations in ways the United States government doesn't like.)
Basically a suspense novel with a science fiction gimmick, the plot creates a fair amount of tension, although parts of it are talky. There are quite a few murders along the way, and a pretty grim ending.
Three stars.
So Bright the Vision, by Clifford Simak
Cover art by Gray Morrow.
Four stories, dating from 1956 to 1960, by a noted author appear in this volume.
First printed in the June 1960 issue of The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction, this lighthearted yarn starts with a huge agate appearing in a guy's yard, along with the tiny critters mentioned in the title. Chaos ensues.
The Noble Editor gave it a lukewarm review when it first appeared, and that's fair. It's a pleasant enough bit of gentle comedy, but hardly profound.
The April 1958 issue of Infinity Science Fiction is the source of this oddly titled (and odd) story.
An elderly fellow collects stamps from alien worlds, piling them up in his rat's nest of a home. Some of the stamps are actually made up of living microorganisms. When mixed with broth made by an overly friendly neighbor, they jump into action and start organizing the guy's messy collection.
There's a strong resemblance to the previous story, which also had tiny creatures helping folks at first, but going a little too far. This one is a lot stranger than the other one, and a little more complex. (I haven't mentioned the role played by stuff that the old man receives from an alien pen pal, or what the weird title means.) Interesting for its eccentricity, if nothing else.
The August 1956 issue of Fantastic Universe supplies the story that gives the collection its title.
At a future time when Earth is in contact with several alien worlds, the only thing of value humans can supply is fiction. Other beings don't make up things that aren't true, and they're fascinated by the concept.
The fiction is created via programmed machines, with a little human input. Writing by hand (or pencil, pen, or typewriter) is considered old-fashioned, and even vulgar.
The plot follows the misadventures of a so-called writer who has fallen on hard times. His machine is on its last legs, and he can't afford a new one. A fellow writer's secret leads to a sudden decision.
Much of the story consists of discussions of the importance of fiction. The automated fiction machines seem intended as a dark satire of uninspired hackwork. It's clearly a heartfelt work, and the author manages to convey his passion.
This yarn comes from the pages of the September 1956 issue of Science Fiction Stories.
A newspaper reporter investigates some odd events. There's the sudden, seemingly merciful death of someone suffering from a terminal illness. A scientist's papers are rearranged, giving him the clue he needs to complete his work. The reporter suggests, in a joking article, that these and other happenings might be the work of brownies. He's not too far off the mark.
Once again we have small beings helping humans. This time their efforts are entirely benign, unlike the golden bugs (who ignored people completely, and only worked for their own goals) and the microorganisms from the alien stamp (who went a little too far in their effort to organize things.) This is a sweet, simple little story, benefiting from the author's own experience as a newspaperman.
Three stars.
The title story is definitely the highlight of the collection. As a whole, that bumps the book up to three and one-half stars.
There's no question that Star Trek is a bona fide phenomenon. Now in its third season (and so far, quite a good season it is), it is a universe that has launched several dozen fan clubs, most with their own 'zines, many with Trek-fiction included. Professional tie-in merchandise is booming, too, from the AMT model kits of the ships in the show, to Stephen Whitfield's indispensable The Making of Star Trek, to Gold Key's dispensable comic book.
The latest release is the very first (that I'm aware of) professional original Trek story, Mission to Horatius by none other than SF veteran Mack Reynolds. That a familiar name should be tapped to write Trek tales is not a surprise. Episodes of the show have been written by SFnal talents Norman Spinrad, Ted Sturgeon, Robert Bloch, Harlan Ellison, Jerome Bixby; and James Blish has written two collections of episode novelizations (well, noveletizations).
So how does Reynolds' effort rate? First, let's look at the story:
The Enterprise has been out on patrol so long that ship's stores are low and the crew is beginning to suffer from "cafard". This malady is a kind of isolation sickness that can lead to mass insanity. Before the ship can return to starbase, however, it receives a distress call from the Horatius system just beyond the Federation.
There are three Class M planets in the system, all inhabited by pioneers who don't want to be Federated. They are the primitive society of Neolithia, which operates in bands and clans; the theological autocracy of Mythria, controlled by a happy drug called "Anodyne" (a la "Return of the Archons"); and the Prussian military state of Bavarya. This world is the most dangerous, as they have designs on conquering the Federation, and they are building an army of clones ("Dopplegangers") toward that end.
Uncertain as to from which planet the distress signal originated, Kirk leads a landing party composed of his senior officers to each planet in turn. Meanwhile, the strings on Uhura's guitar break one by one, and Sulu's pet rat gets loose. Cafard causes 40 crew members to be put in stasis. It's not a happy trip. But in the end, it's a successful one when Kirk finds the that Anna, the daughter of "Nummer Ein" on Bavarya, summoned the Enterprise to thwart her father's nefarious scheme,
Well. There's quite a lot wrong with this book. Reynolds makes serving on the Enterprise feel like the worst duty in the galaxy. Maybe this is realistic, but from what we've seen, the crew isn't this unhappy. As for "cafard", if our nuclear submarine crews don't suffer from such issues, I can't imagine a crack Starfleet crew would.
Reynolds' characterizations are only cursorily accurate. Indeed, Mission feels more like a lesser story in his Analog-published United Planets series of stories, featuring a decentralized set of worlds with every kind of government imaginable. There's an undertone of smugness as Kirk destroys one society after another—first by beaming down an anodyne-antidote into the Mythran water supply (if Scotty can manufacture ten pounds of the stuff in ten minutes, why can't he synthesize new strings for Uhura?), and then by destroying all five million dopplegangers on Bavarya…who may well have been sentient beings.
And finally, McCoy staves off cafard by making the crew believe that Sulu's rat has Bubonic Plague, and that it must be killed to save the ship. The rat does not have a happy ending.
Most eyeroll inducing passage: "Anna, womanlike, had been inspecting Janice Rand's neat uniform. Now she responded to the bows of the men from the Enterprise. She was perhaps in her mid-twenties, blond, and, save for a slight plumpness, attractive."
(emphasis added)
Even accepting that the target audience is on the younger side (given that the publisher is Whitman), this does not really excuse all the problems with Mission to Horatius. Moreover, the stirring introduction seems to have been written for an entirely different story!
There are pictures by Sparky Moore. They are adequate, but the characters don't look too much like our heroes.
Two stars.
by Mx. Kris Vyas-Myall
In the run up to Christmas, I received a special treat through my letterbox: a second Orbit anthology for 1968. Will it do better than #3?
Orbit 4
Cover by Paul Lehr
Windsong by Kate Wilhelm
Starting with the series’ most regular contributor, Wilhelm’s story concerns Dan Thornton, an overworked executive. He is trying to solve the problem of an armored computer that should be able to act as a policeman. However, it cannot cope with the stress of unexpected situations. To get solutions he has been working with the psychologist Dr. Feldman to see if his dreams yield any ideas but, instead, he keeps dreaming about Paula. She was a free-spirited “windsong” from his teenage years, a person who could instantly analyse patterns to understand the world in ways others could not.
I have been noticing a pattern emerging with Wilhelm’s writing. She wants to experiment with form and content but rarely manages to deliver a strong balance between the two. In this case it is the style that works well, using the dream sessions in a way that would please the New Wave, but the actual plot leaves something to be desired, not really travelling anywhere fast and engaging in some obvious cliches.
Evens out at Three Stars
Probable Cause by Charles L. Harness
Harness recently returned from his parental leave and is back to writing, getting an even warmer reception this time around. Using his legal background, he brings us the discussion of a supreme court case, one where the constitutionality of a conviction depends on an interesting question. If a search warrant is granted based on a psychic reading, does this violate the fourth and\or fifth amendments?
Whilst some of the arguments here do not make much sense to me, I am neither a lawyer nor an American. As such, I am happy to bow to Harness’ knowledge of constitutional jurisprudence. What I question is the length of it all. At over 60 pages, this is the second longest story to yet grace the pages of Orbit. But it is just some justices sitting in a room discussing a piece of legal theory. This might be worth a vignette, but I needed more to justify a novella.
Two Stars
Shattered Like a Glass Goblin by Harlan Ellison
Rudy has finally gotten out of the army on medical, only to find his fiancée Kris in a marijuana-drenched squat in downtown LA. Is he just not “with it” anymore? Or is something more sinister going on?
If this was from an older writer, I would assume it was a crass attempt to be relevant. With Ellison I am willing to assume he is in earnest in writing a hippy horror story. It is not entirely clear if what we see really happened or if it just a massive drug trip, but that actually makes it work better for me.
Four Stars
This Corruptible by Jacob Transue
This is an author of which no information is given, nor one I've heard of before. Is it perhaps a pseudonym?
Thirty-five years ago, scientists Paul and Andrew departed on bad terms. Whilst the former went into seclusion, the latter became vastly wealthy. Andrew now seeks out Paul after learning of his new discovery, the ability to renew a person’s life.
This reads like a middling story from 15 years ago. Whilst some horrifying imagery raises it up, it is pulled back down by lechery.
Two Stars
Animalby Carol Emshwiller
A strange animal is kept in the city by its keepers. What could it be?
This is a stylistic piece that will depend on your tolerance for this kind of prose:
It was said, on the second day, that he did not look too unhappy. A keeper of particular sensitivity brought him both a grilled cheese sandwich and a hamburger so it might be seen what his preferences were, but still he ate nothing.
This reader was unhappy, feeling nothing.
One Star
One at a Time by R. A. Lafferty
In Barnaby’s Barn, McSkee tells tall tales. But what if they are true?
I feel about Lafferty’s writing the way Superman does about Kryptonite. As such, I struggle with him at the best of times. This one I found it impossible to read. I don’t like bar-room frames or tall tales, I was confused by the style and was generally perplexed throughout.
A subjective One Star
Passengers by Robert Silverberg
In an interesting take on the Puppet Masters concept, Earth has encountered strange creatures called passengers. They can “ride” anyone, at any time, with no way to detect or stop them. Once a Passenger leaves a person, the memory goes. Our narrator wakes up to find he slept with a woman whilst he was ridden. However, upon exercising in Central Park he believes he has found her, even though she doesn’t remember him.
Anyone who has read Silverberg of late knows of his strange recurring writings about young women, so I will not belabour the point here. Your rating will probably result from how you balance the concept against this tendency. I come down in the middle.
Three Stars
Grimm's Story by Vernor Vinge
The planet Tu is a world that contains almost no metals. Whilst some technologies, such as pharmaceuticals, hydrofoils and optics, have been able to develop, others, such as heavier than air flight, have not.
It is on this world that Astronomy student Svir Hedrigs is approached by Tatja Grimm, the science editor of Fantasie magazine. She has a dangerous mission for Hedrigs, to stop the destruction of the last complete collection of Fantasie.
In less skilled hands this could easily have been contrived and fannish. Instead, Vinge spins a fascinating intricate plot and fully imagined world, touching on a number of interesting themes with complicated characters. It stumbles a little at the very end, stopping it from gaining a full five stars, but still very good.
A high four stars
A Few Last Words by James Sallis
Hoover is beset by bad dreams. He decides to head to Doug’s coffee shop where we learn from them why the cities are now so empty.
Well written and atmospheric, appealing to this sufferer of parasomnia.
Four Stars
Continuing a steady Orbit
Once again, Orbit contains some of the best and worst of SF for me. This issue more than most, though, is going to be a subjective one. So much is based on style that it cannot help but appeal to personal taste. I know others have considered Animal among the best and Grimm’s Story among the weakest. Whatever your tastes, I think there will be something in here for you to chew on.
This completely passed me by on first release but an ad for it from the Science Fiction Book Club in last month’s New Worlds was enough to convince me to get it. But was it worth me trialing a membership from them?
The so-called “end of the universe” is an area where physical laws as we know them break down. Sometimes this abstract nothingness recedes, sometimes it expands and swallows galaxies, leaving impossible creations in its wake. The Warden Corps have been set up at its current edge to monitor and explore the strange phenomena.
Among those who come to the current planetoid of the Warden Corps is Helena Kraag. Whilst the daughter of one of the richest men in the galaxy, she has become withdrawn from people since the loss of her mother. At first, she attempts to look straight into the nothingness and loses her sense of identity. In spite of this she still travels with the rest of the crew into this impossibility.
Unfortunately, their Heisenberg shields fail as they enter. As you can probably guess, things start to get strange.
Now, you might expect this to just then be a kind of surreal trip, a la Alice in Wonderland or Phantom Tollbooth. However, what Joseph produces is a kind of fractured character exploration. As we move through these different bizarre situations we learn more about each of the members of the crew and gain understanding of what motivates them.
There are so many delicious details. Initially this looks like it is going to be some kind of 19th Century comedy of manners, but we soon learn this has been carefully set up. Rather it is a kind of conditioning, one to allow the fliers to maintain a solid form of identity. Even when it feels like I am reading the lyrics to I Am The Walrus, there is clear intent and structure behind it.
Joseph is also a master of language and you feel yourself getting knowledge and beauty within the surreality. For example:
Everything and nothing had both happened and not happened; time was as broad as it was long; space was neither here nor there; the loop of eternity threaded itself through the eye of zero.
This kind of sentence could have been gibberish. But the way he phrases it and following the scenarios we have gone through, I absolutely understand what he is getting at.
I could go through all the characters and scenarios to explore the meaning behind it, but I think it is better to take the journey yourself. As Helena says, it is “like falling through the hole in the zero.” It may not be something that is at once fathomable but it is a new experience worth having.
Although primarily known as a poet, he clearly understands science fiction well and has an affinity for it (see, for example, the poem "Mars Ascending"). Here is hoping for more such forays.
Moondust by Thomas Burnett Swann takes place in and around the ancient city of Jericho. Swann’s Jericho is a poverty-ridden city ruled by the Egyptians, its denizens apprehensive about the steady approach of the Wanderers, a flood of former slaves absconding from Egypt.
Bard ekes out a meager existence in this city with his mother and beautiful younger brother Ram. Ram is stolen one night and replaced by an unbecoming changeling. Bard accepts the fat, ugly Rahab and comes to think of her as a sister until years later when an elusive, feline creature known as a fennec arrives. Rahab then magically transforms into a beautiful woman with wings and disappears one night.
Determined to rescue Rahab, Bard enlists the aid of his friend, Zeb. Together they track Rahab down to the underground city, Honey Heart, where the fennecs rule as gods and Rahab’s kind, the People of the Sea along with beautiful human males–including the long lost Ram– are docile slaves to the fennecs. Bard and Zub must now find a way to wrest Rahab from the insidious control of the fennecs and make it out of Honey Heart alive.
Moondust is a highly imaginative and reasonably interesting story but I did not—could not bring myself to enjoy it. At first, I couldn’t quite put my finger on what bothered me about this novel. Then it finally occurred to me. This book has no soul, no humanity. Moondust feels like a book written from the clinical lens of a white Westerner who thinks he’s better than the people he’s writing about.
Apparently, people living in poverty must always be dirty and have very little regard for personal hygiene. If humans own slaves, those slaves must be black. What else could they possibly be? Beautiful women are nothing but whores. Fat people are ugly, and the Israelites had very big, very ugly feet.
I believe these small details were meant to add color to the story’s world, but obviously originate from a place of thinly veiled disdain.
The main character, Bard, is not one with whom I could sympathize. His little brother is stolen—kidnapped in the dead of night. Even though Bard bemoans the loss, not once does it occur to the self-absorbed nincompoop to go looking for his five-year-old sibling. Instead, he magnanimously accepts the supposedly fat, ugly changeling named Rahab left in his brother’s place as a sister and simply carries on with his life as if that makes any sense.
Years later, when Rahab literally sheds her “ugly” skin and becomes a beautiful creature of a woman, she then becomes a harlot. What else could she possibly become?
When Rahab disappears, summoned back to the underground city of Honey Heart by the fennec, Chackal, Bard immediately enlists the aid of his friend, Zeb and races off in search of his beloved sister. This raises the question of why he was so desperate to save the sibling unrelated by blood–who left voluntarily–but had possessed no inclination to go off in search of his biological brother, Ram.
Once Bard and Zeb descend into Honey Heart, the story loses all coherence for me. The contrived mish-mash of magic, ancient Eastern culture, and biblical myth falls short of a finely woven tale. Moondust merely rankled.
If I’ve learned anything from Swann it’s that you can learn the history and possess infinite academic knowledge of a culture but your words aren’t going to touch anyone if you can’t actually feel the soul—the humanity of the people.
Three Stars
by Jason Sacks
One Before Bedtime by Richard Linkroum
What an odd novel. One Before Bedtime is part mad scientist novel, part social satire, part speculative fiction, and part self-centered character rationalization.
I'm not sure this is a good book, per se, but is certainly odd.
See, in a way, this book is all about the social satire. It's about Jeff Baxter, a kid just home from Vietnam, where he's seen some stuff, man, and who has gone back to work at his a pharmacy in his small midwestern town. Jeff just has one minor problem: his skin is in rough shape and he needs for it to clear up so his girlfriend can be happy. Thankfully (perhaps), the pharmacist turns out to be a tinkerer. Cortland Pedigrew has his own set of chemicals and other tools in the basement of the pharmacy. Pedigrew invents a pill which can clear Jeff's skin.
There's just one problem. The pill somehow turns Jeff's skin from White to Black.
And there the troubles begin.
Because Jeff's girlfriend, Peggy, is a bit of a militant and freedom fighter. She walks around everywhere barefoot and speaks at rallies for Black rights and sings folk songs and reminds one of someone like Joan Baez in her steadfast commitment to the hottest social issues of the day. (She probably wouldn't have cared about Jeff's skin, either, but the poor guy was too self-deluded to notice.)
As the story goes on, Jeff, Peggy and several other characters find themselves mixed up in campus protests, urban riots, and unreasonable hatred. Along the way they're forced to see their own prejudices – often reflexive and instinctive – and, well, pretty much stay the same people they were before the events in this book start.
On top of all the oddball problems I've just described, this 168-page quickie is written from different perspectives. We get no fewer than four different approaches to this character's story, each exceeding the previous one in its banality and strange affect. I kept wondering, over and over, how dumb these characters are, how stuck in their idiotic ways they are so they can't actually see the world differently than they did before their loved one was turned black?
Of course, that's also all part of author Linkroum's goal here, I'm sure. It's clear from his approach that he's interested in exploring the idea that racism is arbitrary and simple-minded, that mere skin color is not a diffentiator of the worth of a person, and that our present great national troubles are as absurd as his chracters all act here.
If only Mr. Linkroum had been more satirical, more biting in his humor. Instead the plot of One Before Bedtime all feels a bit undercooked, a bit bland and a bit too on-the-nose for it to really work for me.
I tried looking up Richard Linkroum in my collection of science fiction mags and found no other examples of his work. This is despite the fact that the book was published in hardcover by J.P. Lippincott, a reputable publisher. Finally I was tipped that there's a TV producer who goes by Dick Linkroum who might be our author here. That makes sense because One Before Bedtime reads like a bad episode of the old Twilight Zone: a bit undercooked and way too preachy.
After several weeks in science fiction's New Wave, Star Trek returned last week to its roots—specifically, the pages of Astounding Science Fiction. Those who read Robert Heinlein's Universe when it was serialized in the 1940s or the novelized version, Orphans in the Sky in the early '50s, will be thoroughly familiar with the plot of the latest Trek episode.
We start in medias res: the Enterprise is under fire by a cluster of missiles. After dispatching them with phasers, Captain Kirk orders the ship to investigate the source. On the way, Dr. McCoy gives Kirk a bombshell announcement—McCoy is dying from a terminal disease and has one year to live.
"I'm (about to be) dead, Jim."
In short order, the Enterprise arrives at the missiles' point of origin, which turns out to be a large asteroid. It looks just like the one "The Paradise Syndrome", and the parallels do not stop there. For the asteroid is actually hollow and has engines. It's a generation ship (a sort of slower-than-light space ark on which people will live and die for centuries) called Yonada, and the people onboard have lapsed to primitivism, unaware that they are even on a mobile vessel. The ship is on a collision course with the highly inhabited world, Darin 5. Impact date: about a year hence.
For the walnut is hollow, and I have eaten the pith.
Kirk, Mr. Spock, and McCoy beam down to investigate, because, of course, it's always those three these days. They are taken prisoner by a bunch of mooks in parti-color sheets led by the beautiful Priestess/Queen Natira, and presented to The Oracle. This is a black monolith with a camera eye and a menacing voice (pretty sure it's the versatile Jimmy Doohan, once again) who zaps the Federation trio to let them know what he's capable of.
The Yonadan handshake.
When the three awaken, McCoy is the most affected thanks to his illness. Upon learning about McCoy's condition Spock grips Bones' shoulder with an intensity that belies his stoic demeanor. They are clearly very close friends, bickering aside.
"Put your hand on my shoooouldeeer…."
Queen Natira is quite taken with Bones and candidly asks if he'll be her mate. It's all very sudden, but if you reverse the sexes, it's actually not unusual for the screen—after all, James Bond seduces even more quickly. Anyway, since Bones digs Natira and he only has a year left, why not? Meanwhile, Kirk and Spock monkey around in the Oracle's room and get sentenced to death for blasphemy. They are saved by McCoy's intervention and beam back to the ship, leaving McCoy behind at his request. As part of his citizenship rite, Bones is implanted with The Instrument of Obedience, a subcutaneous pain inducer installed in a person's left temple.
Kirk and co. are about to warp away from Yonada on the direct orders of an Admiral, when Bones calls the ship on his communicator. In the Oracle room, McCoy has seen a book that contains all the knowledge of the folks who built Yonada, a super-advanced race called The Fabrini. He thinks it has the key to getting the ship back on course so it won't hit Darin 5. But as he relays this information, his Instrument begins to glow, and Bones collapses.
"Chicago Mobs of the 1920s?"
Excedrin headache #1701
Kirk and Spock beam back to Yonada, the latter extracting McCoy's Instrument, the former convincing Natira of the truth of her situation. They all confront the Oracle, who is displeased, but as we've all guessed, he's just a computer and easily deactivated. Kirk and Spock get the asteroid back on course (but the destination is still, apparently, Darin 5) and the day is saved. Natira asserts that, much as she loves Bones after the 38 minutes they've spent together, she must stay behind with her people and guide them, now that she knows the truth. But McCoy can catch up with her in a year when they reach their goal.
There's not too much to say here. I enjoyed the return to classic SFnal fare, and I particularly liked Natira, who is bold but reasonable, and there's no "a woman?" reaction to her leading her people. I guess Kirk learned his lesson from "Spock's Brain." It's a pretty episode, particularly this great through-the-stairs shot as our heroes descent into the ark proper (which, as a watcher pointed out, also saved a lot of money since the rest of the set didn't have to be shown).
But the episode sort of plods. There is a bit of padding, which the show can ill afford given how much it tries to do in 60 minutes. My biggest issue is Kirk deducing that Yonada is somehow broken. How can he tell the Oracle doesn't plan to decelerate once the ship gets to Darin 5? And, of course, the Fabrini data tapes coincidentally having the cure to McCoy's illness, cheapening the whole "Bones is dying" plot.
Three stars.
Eve's Bitten Apple is a Hollow Fruit
by Amber Dubin
With a title including the words “I have touched the sky,” I expected the the writing quality in this episode to reach a bit higher in metaphorical heights. Unfortunately, the intellectual peak of this episode is the lofty language of the title. I say this because the plot appears to be a sex-reversed version of Adam and Eve.
At first blush, Natira seems to be an original character. A strong-willed priestess/queen who is a decisive and effective leader and emissary for the authoritative voice of the Ancients. However, this illusion of originality quickly fades when she is viewed through a biblical lens as Adam, the founder of humanity and the only one entrusted with hearing the Voice of God. While it is a slightly interesting spin to cast McCoy as Eve offering her the apple of knowledge, it’s a frustratingly over-done concept. I may be biased, as I also take issue with the biblical moral being that seeking knowledge is worthy of punishment, but I don’t see why this story needs to keep being told ad nauseum. And, more importantly, how is it that even though the woman is playing Adam this time, she’s still being punished?
Adam famously pointed the finger at Eve to avoid being branded with the title of ‘original sinner,’ and yet when Natira doesn’t pluck the apple herself, she is still painted with the same brush as McCoy. Also, I am not a fan of the fact that the Ancient Ones are once again an all-powerful race with the forethought to sustain their people for 10,000 years (a la the Eye-Morgs in “Spock’s Brain” or the Creators of “The Paradise Syndrome”) and yet their grand plan to support their people is an authoritarian, theocratic government with shock collars to keep their subjects in line? Again? Can all these ancient, powerful, alien races truly be that intellectually evolved when not one so far has established a system whose fabric doesn’t completely unravel at the slightest pull on a thread tugged by a single dynamic thinker? Did they truly expect to be able to exterminate every single person who ever suggested climbing the incredibly accessible fence posts on their containment unit? Did that actually work for 10,000 years? Is a species so devoid of curiosity even worth saving at that point? I’d argue no, but that’s speaking as someone who would have been eliminated from the gene pool immediately under those parameters.
For the world's a set, and I have touched the walls.
I did like that McCoy got his moment in this episode. I’m always refreshed when Kirk isn’t seducing every woman on screen with the power of being the main character. I also enjoyed seeing a woman maintaining strong leadership when she chooses duty and responsibility to her people over love of a stranger. The love at first sight concept was slightly more tolerable being presented from the perspective of a female pursuer, and it may only have raised my hackles since I'm a bitter old maid myself.
Overall I didn’t love this episode but it wasn’t horrible. I may be harping on it so because of the motif fatigue I’m experiencing after it followed such other innovative and unique episodes in this season. Though I do think that the poetic title earned it an extra half star above average.
3.5 Stars
Why to Try Touching the Sky
by Trini Stewart
Hello, my name is Trini Stewart, and I showed up to the Star Trek party in a similar fashion to how I arrive at most parties- unreasonably late, and with no idea what’s going on at the moment. My journey with Star Trek began recently with “Is There in Truth No Beauty?,” and now I am happy to be strapped in for the ride.
As the title of this week’s episode implies, “For the World is Hollow and I have Touched the Sky” tells a story of questioning and exploring one’s reality, and does so effectively through the frame of a conflicted leader’s pursuit of objective truth.
The Priestess and Queen of the hollow world Yonada, Natira, is introduced with no clue that Yonada was actually a vessel. Natira clearly has no intention of questioning the stern punishments and vague promises of the Oracle, that is, until the Enterprise officers challenge the queen’s understanding of her world and its fate. The initial cracks in Natira’s worldview can be attributed to lowering her guard around Bones, as she is earnestly smitten with him the moment she sees him captured, and she dares to hope that “men of…other worlds hold truth as dear as (Yonadans) do.” Subsequently, Natira seems to be more receptive to questions about the Oracle from the foreigners, and, in a show of trusting McCoy’s testimony for Kirk and Spock, she openly defies the will of the Oracle to pardon them from a death sentence.
These subtle changes within the queen are suddenly imperative when she later faces Kirk, who insists he has a warning regarding the fate of her world. For Natira to acknowledge that her world is in peril is to reject that the Oracle knows what is best, let alone how merely listening to a truth that is not “Yonada’s truth” is precarious heresy in itself. In contrast to the Oracle’s mysterious promises, Kirk’s transparency and willingness to reason appeals to Natira, and though it is incredibly difficult for the queen to withstand the Oracle’s threats, she is convinced to confront her authority for the sake of her home. Natira pleads that she listened to the outsiders because they spoke the truth, and remarks her new understanding of truth, exclaiming, “Is truth not truth for all?” Even willing to die for the safety of her people, the queen exhibits her newfound reverence for objective truth in one last, defiant plea, “I must know the truth of the world!” before collapsing at the behest of the Oracle.
The truth will set your teeth on edge…
Ultimately, Natira’s new understanding of what is true shifts her relationship with McCoy; formerly enamored by McCoy to the point of locking him into a hefty vow of obedience, she opts to honor the intended course of the Generation ship and to hope for a fulfilling life for the doctor, even when he resists. It is Natira’s receptiveness to new ideas that reveals the state of her world and saves billions of people, thus revealing the importance of both appreciating different perspectives and reforming one’s own comprehension of the world around them.
On that note, I as a viewer can truly appreciate this episode’s call to challenge ourselves, to challenge authority, and to even challenge "truth". Now, more than ever, that "Law and Order" Nixon is about to be our next President.
At the very least, I can hope that between this week’s message and the pacifist musings of “Day of the Dove,” Star Trek watchers will reflect on how we react to political discontent in our personal lives. 3.5 stars.
Short Shrift
by Janice L. Newman
The scriptwriter crammed a lot into this week’s episode, and unfortunately the episode suffered for it. While the ideas introduced were intriguing and potentially poignant, the rate at which the story had to be told to fit within the time slot left me frustrated and unsatisfied. The pacing of the episode itself was fine, that is, it didn't hit the story beats too fast. But by its very nature, the story had too much to do and not enough space to do it in, which left the beats themselves feeling shallow or curtailed.
McCoy’s illness could have been a wonderfully dramatic plot point if it had been introduced in a prior episode or at the beginning of a two or three-part story. Instead, it falls flat. The illness feels like a contrivance and the solution feels horribly pat.
The romance between Natira and McCoy feels similarly forced. The scriptwriter did their best to make it plausible. One can say that McCoy’s knowledge of the limited time he has left to live drives his choices, or that he’s mostly manipulating Natira to save his friends’ lives, just as Kirk has done on many occasions. Yet the whirlwind ‘romance’ between Spock and the Romulan Commander in The Enterprise Incident had far more emotional impact, even when we knew or guessed that Spock was ‘faking’. McCoy’s and Natira’s romance just feels weird, almost a developing relationship shown in quick cuts.
"Goodbye, sweet what's-your-name…"
The background of Natira’s race could have been fascinating, if the author had been able to do more with it than the barest sketch. A ten thousand year-old race that sent a generation ship to the stars when its sun went nova is a compelling concept deserving of some screen time. The fact that they had medical advancements sufficient to cure Dr. McCoy’s illness but that their weapons weren’t advanced enough to hurt the Enterprise is suggestive and interesting.
I imagine multi-part stories are not what a network or syndicator wants. Being forced to show certain episodes in a certain order, all the while risking pre-emption or cancellation if a sports game runs long or a political speech comes on, must be anathema to broadcasters. They must want neat, tidy stories that fit within their time slot and don’t have any connection or major changes from episode to episode; in other words, interchangeable, truly episodic pieces that they can fit into whichever slot they want without worrying about audience retaliation. (Batman and soap operas seem to be the exception to this.)
Unfortunately, limiting the story to a tidy 50-something minute block means that no matter how good the acting and direction, no matter how hard the scriptwriter tries, some kinds of stories are going to get short shrift.
This was one of those stories. Or to put it another way, great ideas, mediocre execution.
Three stars.
Spring of Hope
by Joe Reid
“For the World is Hollow and I have Touched the Sky” was the title of this week’s episode of Star Trek. The title is a mouthful but does a decent job of giving us a feel for what we saw in this entry. The title is one that evokes hope out of despair. This episode was a tale filled with many hopeful outcomes springing out of situations heading towards tragedy. In fact, despair and hope were so perfectly bookended by this airing that it would make your local librarian proud. Let’s examine a few ways that this was accomplished.
The opening shot was that of missiles flying through space heading for the Enterprise. Granted these missiles barely caused a concern for the crew of the powerful starship as they were dispatched with a quick command from Captain Kirk. No, the real despair inducing news came in the following scene where we learned that our beloved Doctor McCoy was inflicted with an illness that would kill him within a year. That he would die a lonely bachelor. This caused a tonal shift in every scene we saw McCoy in, giving a gravity to this scene, it perhaps being the last time that we might see our favorite TV doctor.
If that wasn’t bad enough, Bones, Kirk, and Spock were soon violently attacked by a mob, electrocuted and imprisoned. After that they were scheduled for execution due to committing crimes against the creators. Shortly after that they were forced off the alien world one crewmember short as greater than 2 billion lives hung in the balance. With so many worry inducing elements coming forth in an episode, it’s a wonder that any one of these tragedies didn’t become the focus of the entire episode. No, the beauty of this episode was that no desperate situation was left without hope for very long.
After being attacked and mistreated on the alien world the inhabitants quickly changed to welcoming them as friends, granting them free access to the entirety of their world. The lonely doctor found love on the alien world, meeting and marrying the priestess and leader of the people. He was then able to save Kirk and Spock from execution, getting their lives as a gift from his new wife. The ultimate hope-filled outcome is that not only do the billions of people find salvation, but also our favorite doctor is cured from the illness plaguing him at the start of the episode.
Sadly as the episode drew to a close we witnessed the parting of McCoy and his wife as she chose to stay with her people as they were finally heading to a new homeworld for themselves. Even this scene was given a happy ending as we soon learned that the Enterprise would be present as the people found their new world and that he would be reunited with his wife.
“For the World is Hollow and I have Touched the Sky” was a well-acted episode, with great wardrobe, and a plot that felt original. It was refreshing to see McCoy be the object of feminine attention and DeForest Kelly's performance was the standout of the show.
Next year, Natira will get to wake up to this handsome face every morning!
Four stars.
[Come join us tomorrow (November 15th) for the next thrilling episode of Star Trek! KGJ is broadcasting the show live with commercials and accompanied by trekzine readings at 8pm Eastern and Pacific. You won't want to miss it…]
As a Captain, James T. Kirk has always been known more as a soldier than a diplomat. In the same way that Captain Kirk was forced to move past his initial, violent, problem-solving instincts in "Spectre of a Gun," here, yet another great and powerful alien species drops the crew of the Enterprise into direct contact with a combative, unreasonable opponent, making him take a "diplomatic tiger by the tail" that Captain Kirk must use every tool in his skill set to tame.
The setup is masterfully crafted from the very beginning by what appears to be a solitary alien made of pure energy that presents as a wheel of twinkling lights. Twinkling alien energy, who I will refer to from now on as TAE, is not invisible, but takes pains to silently hover just out of direct line of sight from every group of combatants it takes interest in. The Enterprise does not notice TAE on its first appearance when they beam down to an uninhabited planet, searching for what was supposed to be the ruins of a recently destroyed colony described in a distress signal. Chekov remarks, in confusion, that his readings indicate that there was no evidence of a colony nor an attack. Before the crew has time to process this information, Sulu chimes in over the communicator, warning him that a Klingon ship is approaching. Said ship immediately starts showing signs of distress, quickly becoming disabled by internal explosions to which the Enterprise made no contribution.
Commander Kang, the Klingon starship captain, makes no attempt to understand his situation; he beams down and decks Captain Kirk, yelling that since the federation has committed an act of war against the Klingons by killing 400 of his crew and disabling his ship, he is owed command of the Enterprise. TAE glows a menacing red color, apparently delighted with the increase in hostility. Thus the stage is set before the first credits roll of this episode.
The episode's opening salvo
Captain Kirk displays his newfound diplomatic skills, engaging in dialogue with someone whose assault just knocked him flat on his back. When Kang again demands that Kirk cede control of the Enterprise, our captain calmly replies, “go to the Devil.” Kang smoothly retorts “We have no Devil, Kirk, but we understand the habits of yours,“ whom he intends to emulate by torturing crewmen until Kirk hands over control of his ship.
Suddenly, a strange look comes over Chekov’s face and he jumps at the Klingon commander, practically volunteering to be first on the torture block, incoherently yelling about needing revenge for his brother, Pyotr, who had been killed on the colony they never found. In another clever manipulation, Captain Kirk gets Kang to agree to cease torturing Chekov by promising to beam the Klingons aboard the Enterprise, assuring him that there will be no tricks once they are on the ship. Of course, phrasing it like this left a loophole where he wouldn’t be lying if beaming the Klingons up was the trick—they are stuck in stasis until guards can round them up. Back on the Enterprise, Kirk quarantines the angry Klingon landing party with their distressed ship's remaining crewmen stranded.
A gaggle of steaming-mad Klingons
Before our heroes can figure out what’s going, the Enterprise crewmen start falling one by one under the same spell of violent madness that seized Chekov down on the colony site. Unlike with the Klingon crewmen, this wave of violence is very out of character for the Enterprise crew, and they turn on each other using racist, species-ist and otherwise highly offensive rhetoric against each other, the likes of which hasn’t been used on earth in centuries at this point. Chekov even goes on a slathering rampage where he outright defies Captain Kirk and goes to attack the Klingons to avenge his slain brother. This strangeness becomes particularly significant when Sulu declares that Chekov doesn’t even have a brother, as he's an only child.
Chekov disobeys a direct order.
Captain Kirk does the best job of fighting through the madness in order to refocus each crewman one by one towards finding out the root of the issue at hand. It is eventually surmised that TAE is on board, spurring the crewmen to fight and feeding off the negative emotions when its manipulations work and they get at each other’s throats. It is soon discovered that TAE is even more dangerous than originally feared, as it not only can influence the memories and emotions of its victims, but it also has the ability to warp reality itself, healing the scars of the wounded and turning nearly every object at everyone’s disposal into swords, deliberately making every weapon just inefficient enough to prolong conflict and minimize potential fatalities.
Bread and circuses, redux.
In typical Kirk fashion, the seriousness of TAE’s threat doesn’t fully hit him until a female is affected; Kang’s wife, his ship's Science Officer, gets separated from the rest of the group and is set-upon by a completely rabid Chekov. He rips her clothes, but thankfully is interrupted by Kirk and the bridge crew before he can go further. Kirk is justifiably horrified that TAE would be more than willing to push his crew towards that kind of violence. After incapacitating Chekov, Kirk entreats Kang’s wife to join him in uniting her husband and the rest of the Klingons against the real enemy; and it is with great difficulty that he does finally change Kang’s mind and get him to call the rest of the Klingons to a truce. In the end, it’s Kang’s words that finally eject TAE from the ship, as he taunts ”we need no urging to hate humans… only a fool fights in a burning house”
United in defiance.
While it is obvious to see that this episode is once again making a political commentary of our time, this one doesn't rub me the wrong way because the character foils have been fleshed out enough to be likable. Straw men have a tendency to be hollow and weak, but Kang and his wife Mara are anything but that. The Klingons may be violent and aggressive on their face, but they justify their actions with a strong moral backbone and end up proving themselves capable of being reasoned with. Michael Ansara's tremendous presence of voice and body does a phenomenal job of making Commander Kang a formidable yet worthy foe. No slouch herself, Mara shows that she is a leader in her own right, making Kirk work almost as hard to change her mind as her husband's, along the way making some very solid points about Klingon foreign policy. If anything, the Klingons are made to be anti-heroes rather than villains, and in constantly having to take their side against his own men, Kirk shows us the value of humanizing one's enemy, even when that enemy is not human at all.
5 stars.
by Janice L. Newman
When entertainment takes a stance on politics or morality, it’s often a recipe for a bad story. There are plenty of classic parables and fables, of course, but when popular television gets involved in such things sometimes the lesson feels shoehorned in or the plot feels warped around the ‘message’ the writer wanted to send. For example, The Omega Glory and A Private Little War were both attempts to make a point about current political situations, and both were subpar episodes.
“Day of the Dove”, on the other hand, does it right.
This is not a subtle story, yet it maintains a clever mystery plot and dramatic tension right up to the end. The denouement carries a powerful message that I found both shocking and welcome. Shocking, because I didn’t expect to see such blatant anti-war sentiments expressed on prime-time TV. [Janice doesn't watch the Smothers Bros. (ed)] Welcome, because I feel the same way.
There are plenty of intense moments throughout the episode, but the message can be summed up in a few lines of dialogue:
KIRK: All right. All right. In the heart. In the head. I won't stay dead. Next time I'll do the same to you. I'll kill you. And it goes on, the good old game of war, pawn against pawn! Stopping the bad guys. While somewhere, something sits back and laughs and starts it all over again.
MCCOY: Let's jump him.
SPOCK: Those who hate and fight must stop themselves, Doctor. Otherwise, it is not stopped.
MARA: Kang, I am your wife. I'm a Klingon. Would I lie for them? Listen to Kirk. He is telling the truth.
KIRK: Be a pawn, be a toy, be a good soldier that never questions orders.
(Kang looks at the weird light, then throws down his sword.)
KANG: Klingons kill for their own purposes.
There is so much conveyed within these few lines. In the context of the rest of the episode, they inspire all sorts of thoughts and questions:
“Question orders.” “Is it wrong to participate in unjust wars?” “Who is benefitting from our wars?” “Who stands to profit and has a vested interest in keeping a war going?” “Are the people with a vested interest also in authority? Do they have control over those in authority?” “Refuse to fight if a war is wrong.” “War may always be wrong.” “Total pacifism may be a possible path.” “If we do not stop hating and fighting, the hating and fighting will not stop.”
These are messages which, if spelled out clearly in almost any other kind of television show, would be unlikely to be allowed on the air. At a time when young men who choose to flee the country rather than accept being drafted are being convicted of treason, telling people to question orders and refuse to fight is risky. Yet the futuristic setting provided by science fiction makes it possible to convey these ideas without the hidebound network pulling the plug or insisting that it be changed. I’m just stunned that Gene Roddenberry let it through, especially after his reputed heavy influence on the script for A Private Little War. I’m not saying I want Star Trek to turn into a ‘message’ show, but I wouldn’t mind a few more episodes like this.
Five stars.
A Third Party
by Lorelei Marcus
As Janice put it, “Day of the Dove” is a ‘message episode’. It’s there to tell you something about life today under the guise of the possible future. Yet unlike my compatriots who saw a cautionary tale of ceaseless fighting in Vietnam and the larger Cold War behind it, I saw a different war entirely.
Star Trek has rarely shown racial tensions between humans and aliens of the Federation. When it is done, it’s for a very specific purpose, like Kirk aggravating Spock in This Side of Paradise. Even the Federation’s disdain for the Romulans and Klingons has less to do with xenophobia and more the fact that neither will agree to reasonable peace terms. Hence why the blatant hatred between not only human and Klingon, but also human and Vulcan, is so jarringly effective in this episode.
Star Trek is the ideal, bigotry-free future—Uhura and Sulu and even Chekov on the bridge are proof of that—but “Day of the Dove” is the closest it gets to reflecting the ugliness of racial tensions in our own world. Cloaked in the veneer of alien and human terms, I saw the hostility and lack of compromise inherent to the Democratic Convention this year, the hatred from man to man over superficial traits.
A scene from the Democratic convention—taken from the Nixon ad that aired during the episode.
Most of all, I saw small prejudices being stoked and inflamed by an outside force, turning anger boiling hot until it nearly exploded into bloody violence. I know that too well. Every step towards peace and equality we take gets slid back when another Wallace or Nixon comes along. Every injustice we commit against the Black man is another reason for him to take a rifle to the streets. Every school that fails to integrate is a generation of Whites who can’t see past the color of skin. And yet, that’s just how Wallace and his ilk want it. They benefit from it.
Wallace preaching hatred from the pulpit.
Perhaps that’s the scariest part: at least in the show, the alien seems to be fomenting hatred out of a need to feed, a necessity. Our politicians do it in the complete service of self-interest. And with the results of the election, tragically, we seem to be dancing right in the palms of their hands.
I often see shades of our world reflected in Star Trek, but never so viscerally. 4 stars.
Go to the Devil
by Joe Reid
“Day of the Dove” was this week’s episode of Star Trek. On first reading that title it evoked religious themes in my mind. I wondered if Star Trek was getting preachy again, the dove being the Christian representation of the Holy Spirit. Like in “Bread and Circuses” where the crew was jubilant that the people of the planet worshiped the son of God. When TV shows try to pass on spiritual virtues, they tend to do it in a ham-fisted way. “Day of the Dove”, although not perfect, does a decent job passing on two themes that I learned in my own religious training. One from the book of Ephesians, chapter 6, verse 12. The other from First Peter, chapter 5, verse 8. So permit me to put on my chaplain's robes as I explore the religious themes I saw in “Day of the Dove”.
Ephesians 6:12 says, “For we wrestle not against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this world, against spiritual wickedness in high places.” The crew of the Enterprise and that of the Klingon ship were made to think that they were enemies. Expertly manipulated and set upon by another, with the intent to have them fight. The real enemy was the outside force. A powerful alien entity that understood the fears, thoughts, emotions, and technology of each side to create opportunities for conflict. This scripture I quoted explains that no flesh and blood human is your enemy; we are all victims of outside forces that use us against one another. As hard as it was for Kirk and Kang to see that they were being used, it is so much harder for all of us to see that we are literally killing ourselves when we raise arms to harm others. All that does is satisfy the real enemy, that of our very souls.
The second verse that came to mind in this episode, 1 Peter 5:8 says, “Be sober, be vigilant; because your adversary the devil, as a roaring lion, walketh about, seeking whom he may devour”. At the start of the episode, Kirk told Kang to “Go to the devil!” when Kang slapped Kirk, accusing him of crimes, claiming the Enterprise. As they left that planet, we saw that Kang didn’t have to go to the devil, because a space devil went back to the ship with them. The alien, always near the action, remained just out of sight. It stalked the crew, looking for minds to twist to meet its ends. Kirk displayed powerful sobriety, breaking free from the influence of the alien. Although he could not see the alien, he was able to know of its presence and resist its influence. The message for us is that it takes sober vigilance to prevent wrong actions that may damage other’s lives. It was awareness of the enemy that helped Kirk stay disaster; it may be awareness that people are not the enemy that may help us.
Kirk prepares to preach to the choir.
This episode read like a sermon. One that encouraged brotherhood over bitterness. Which brings us to the close of the episode and yet another verse that came to my mind watching it. That was James 4:7. “Submit yourselves therefore to God. Resist the devil, and he will flee from you.” This was the method Kirk and Kang used to get rid of the unwanted alien influence. They stopped giving it what it wanted, stopped seeing each other as the enemy and told their dancehall mirror ball devil to leave the ship. With both Kirk and Kang saying GO to their devil.
In conclusion, “Day of the Dove” was well acted. It had great costumes and good characterizations of all characters. Sadly, the dialogue at one point was filled with exposition, explaining to the audience what the alien was even though no one explained it to them, which I never love. It caused me to knock the score down a couple of points, but that is to be expected when TV shows—and reviewers—get preachy.
Three stars
Only in the movies
by Gideon Marcus
Despite being a show set in the far future of the 22nd Century, Star Trek has always employed themes from our current era. This has never been truer than in episodes involving the Klingons, the chief adversary of the Federation for which Kirk's Enterprise is employed.
In Errand of Mercy, we saw Commander Kor and Captain Kirk stand shoulder to shoulder, united in their defiance of the superpowerful Organians, who had the temerity to deprive them of their "right" to fight. The threat of the Organians to demolish both adversaries should they escalate their conflict to a general war, was very much a metaphor for the atomic bomb—specifically the newly minted concept of "Mutual Assured Destruction."
Thus, "The Trouble with Tribbles", "Friday's Child", and "A Private Little War"—the Klingons and Federation now fight proxy wars, engage in cloak and dagger exploits, and occasionally skirmish one-on-one. That last title was very much a product of last year, when it looked like we might "win" in Vietnam. Kirk asserted that the only way to prosecute the conflict on the planet of Neural was to arm the hill people so they remain at parity with the Klingon-aided townsfolks.
Contrast that to "Day of the Dove". Kirk and the Klingon commander (beautifully portrayed by "Mr. Barbara Eden", Michael Ansara) once more stand back to back, but they are resisting the urge to fight. It is a beautiful bit of synchronicity that LBJ the night before airdate announced a full bombing pause on Vietnam after three years of incessance. I watched the episode with tears in my eyes: for once, the hope matched the reality. Maybe we were going to stop the cycle of violence after all.
Would that it could always be this easy.
But Trek is science fiction, and we still live in the real world. Dick Nixon won the election this week, South Vietnam has retracted its willingness to participate in the Paris peace talks, and the beat goes on.
This is the second episode in a row (the first being "Spectre of the Gun") that has featured a new Kirk, a diplomat first and a soldier second. I like this new Kirk. I worry that he will run afoul of his superiors, increasingly conflicted, as John Drake was when working for MI6, ultimately becoming The Prisoner. But at least he's fighting for peace, a fight I can 100% get behind.
It's not a perfect episode, a little heavy-handed in parts, but boy did it resonate.
Four stars.
[Come join us tonight (November 8th) for the next thrilling episode of Star Trek! KGJ is broadcasting the show live with commercials and accompanied by trekzine readings at 8pm Eastern and Pacific. You won't want to miss it…]
It really looked like it was going to be a happy Halloween. On October 31st, President Johnson made the stunning announcement that he was stopping all bombing in Vietnam. This was in service to the Paris peace talks, which subsequently got a huge shot in the arm: not only were the Soviets on board with the negotiations, but the South Vietnamese indicated that, as long as they had a seat at the table, they were in, too.
The holiday lasted all of five days. In yesterday's paper, even as folks went to the polls to choose between Herbert Humphrey and Tricky Dixon (or, I suppose, Wacky Wallace), the news was that South Vietnam had pulled out. They didn't like that the Viet Cong, the Communists in Vietnam (as distinguished from the North Vietnamese government), were going to get a representative at the talks. So they're out.
It's not clear how this will affect the election. As of this morning, it was still not certain who had won . Nevertheless, it is clear that Humphrey's chances weren't helped by the derailing of LBJ's peace plans. If a Republican victory is announced, it may well be this turn of events led to the sea change.
Well, don't blame me. My support has always been for that "common, ordinary, simple savior of America's destiny," Mr. Pat Paulsen. After all, he upped his standards—now up yours.
Respite
Once again, a tumultuous scene provided the backdrop to my SFnal reading. Did the latest issue of Galaxy prove to be balm or bother? Read on and find out:
by John Pederson Jr. illustrating One Station of the Way
Evalyth, military director of a mission to a human planet reverted to savagery after the fall of the Empire, watches with horror as her husband is murdered, then butchered by one of the planet's inhabitants. Cannibalism, it turns out, is a way of life here; indeed, it is considered essential to the rite of puberty for males.
The martial Evalyth vows to have her revenge, tracking down the murderer, Mora, and taking him and his family back to their base, where they are subjected to fearsome scientific examinations. But can she go through with executing the killer of her husband? And does Mora's motivation make any difference?
There' s so much to like about this story, from the exploration of the agony of love lost, to the examination of relative morality, to the development of the universe first introduced (to me, anyway) in last year's A Tragedy of Errors. It doesn't hurt that it stars a woman, and women are integral parts of this future society, with none of the denigrating weasel words that preface the introduction of female characters in Anderson's Analog stories (could those be editorial insertions?)
This is Anderson at his best, without his archaicisms, multi-faceted, astronomically interesting, emotionally savvy.
Five stars.
One Station of the Way by Fritz Leiber
by Holly
Three humaniforms watch on cameloids as the star descends in the east. Sure enough, at a home in the east, a divine being prepares to impregnate a local female so that she will bear a divine child.
Heard this story before? There's a reason. But the planet of Finiswar is not Earth, the aliens are not remotely human, and the white and dark duo who pilot the spaceship Inseminator are anything but gods.
A little girl is told a bedtime story about a big computer that stopped doing its job right. That's because the machine couldn't think of casualties and war statistics as simple numbers, battle strategies as abstract puzzles. The problem is its personality; if the computer's mind could be reconciled with its function, the machine could work again. But can any mind be at peace with such a frightful purpose?
A simple piece like this depends mostly on the telling. Luckily, Goldin is up to the task. Four stars.
Subway to the Stars by Raymond F. Jones
by Jack Gaughan
Harry Whiteman is a brilliant engineer with a problem: he's too much of a "free spirit" to keep a job, or a wife. Desperate, when the CIA approaches him about a singular opportunity, he takes it, though the resents being bullied into it.
In deepest, darkest Africa, the Smith Company is working on…something. Ostensibly a mining concern, it produces no gems. On the other hand, whatever it is is important enough that the Soviets have based missiles in a neighboring country—pointed right at the company site!
Whiteman is hired, for his irreverence more than his ability, and begins work as a double-agent. Once on location, he finds the true purpose of the site: it's a switching station of an intergalactic railroad station! But it turns out that the folks at the Smith Company also have multiple agendas…
A mix of Cliff Simak's Here Gather the Stars (Way Station) and Poul Anderson's Door to Anywhere, it is not as successful as either of them. It takes too long to get started, and then it wraps up all too quickly. It's genuinely thrilling as Whiteman peels back the multiple layers of the Smith operation and the factions within it, and when the missiles do find their target, the resultant chaos is compelling, indeed. But then it turns into a quick, SFnal gimmick story better suited to Analog than Galaxy.
I think I would have rather seen Simak takes this one on as a sequel to his novel. Jones just wasn't quite up to it.
Three stars.
For Your Information: The Discovery of the Solar System by Willy Ley
As it turns out, the science article in this month's issue addresses two issues on which I've had keen recent interest. The first is on the subject of solar systems, and if they can be observed around other stars. Ley discusses how the gravity of an unseen companion can cause a telltale wiggle as the star travels through space, since the two objects orbit a common center of gravity (rather than one strictly going around the other).
In the other half of the article, Ley explains how atomic rocket engines work: shooting heated hydrogen out a nozzle as opposed to burning it and shooting out the resultant water out the back end—it is apparently twice as strong a thrust.
What keeps this article from five stars is both pieces are too brief. For the first half, I'd like to know about the stellar companions discovered through astrometry. He mention's Sirius' white dwarf companion, but what about the planets Van de Kamp claims to have discovered around Barnard's Star and so on? As for the atomic article, I'd like to know what missions a nuclear engine can be used for that a conventional rocket cannot.
Four stars.
A Life Postponed by John Wyndham
by Gray Morrow
Girl falls in love with cynical jerk of a boy. Boy decides there's nothing in the world worth sticking around for, so he gets himself put in suspended animation for a century. Girl follows him there. He's still a cynical jerk, but she doesn't care because she loves him. They live happily ever after.
I'm really not sure of the point of this story, nor how it got in this month's issue other than the cachet of the author's name.
Two stars.
Jinn by Joseph Green
It is the year 2050, and aged Professor Morrison, stymied in his attempts to make food from sawdust, is approached by a brilliant young grad student. Said student is brilliant for a reason: he is a Genetically Evolved Newman or "Jinn", with a big brain and bigger ideas. The student has solved Morrison's problem. However, another Jinn wants humanity to go to the stars, and he fears if the race gets a full belly, they'll lose interest.
The conflict turns violent, the point even larger: is there room for baseline homo sapiens in a world of homo superior?
Green doesn't paint a particularly plausible future, but there are some nice touches, and the points raised are interesting ones. I'd say it's a failure as a story but a success as a thought-exercise, if that makes sense.
So, a low three stars.
Spying Season by Mack Reynolds
by Roger Brand
We return, once again, to Reynolds' world of People's Capitalism. It is the late 20th Century, and the Cold War adversaries have reached a more or less peaceful coexistence. The greater challenge is existential: ultramation has taken away most jobs, and the majority of the populace is on the dole. How, then, to avoid stagnation for humanity?
In this installment, Paul Kosloff is an American of Balkan ancestry, one of the few in the United States of the Americas who still has a steady job, in this case, that of teacher. He is tapped by the CIA to go on sabbatical in the Balkan sector of Common-Europe. Ostensibly, his job is not to spy for the USAs, but to sort of soak in the culture of the area over a twelve-month span.
Very quickly, Kosloff finds himself entagled with an underground revolutionary group, with law enforcement, and with several fellows who enjoy sapping him on the back of the head.
Suffice it to say that all questions are answered by the end, the major ones being: why an innocuous pseudo-spy should be a target, why the CIA would send him on a seemingly pointless mission in the first place. In the meantime, you get a bit more history of this world and some tourist-eye view of Yugoslavia. In other words, your typical, middle-of-the-road Reynolds story.
Three stars.
Counting the votes
While not as stellar as last month's issue, the December 1968 Galaxy still offers a more satisfying experience than, well, most anything going on in "the real world". It clocks in at a respectable 3.45, which brings the annual average to 3.23.
Compare that to the 2.81 it scored last year, and given that Galaxy is once again a monthly, I think it's safe to say that, at least in one way, "Happy days are here again."
Star Trek continues to surf the New Wave in this week’s episode, Spectre of the Gun. While the plot incorporated many things we’ve seen before (both in and outside of Star Trek) it combined and presented these elements in new and innovative ways.
The story opens with the ship encountering a strange object floating in space. All of the crew receive a message, ‘hearing’ it in the language they are most familiar with: Vulcan for Spock, Russian for Chekov, and in a nice call back to earlier episodes, Swahili for Uhura. The message warns them to stay away from the area. The crew, under orders to make contact with the Melkotians (the race who left the warning) choose to disregard it and beam down to the planet. Kirk, Spock, McCoy, Scotty, and Chekov make up the team.
The Melkotian buoy—to Trek's credit, they didn't simply reuse the music from The Corbomite Maneuver
Shortly after they arrive on the planet, a threatening figure appears. It’s one of the aliens, a Melkot. It tells them that they will be punished for disregarding their warning. Since Captain Kirk is in charge, their deaths will be ‘patterned’ on him.
Aliens can be difficult to render convincingly on television, but I was impressed at how effective the Melkot is. The image is of two glowing eyes piercing through a surrounding haze and the suggestion of a bulbous, hairless head on a stalk-like, armless body. Since it’s surrounded by mist and weird lighting, we don’t get a close look at it, which adds to the menacing quality and keeps it from feeling fake or cheesy.
No sooner does the Melkot pronounce judgment, than the five men find themselves in the middle of a western town. Except, it’s not a fully-realized town. It’s made up of pieces of scenery, just enough to suggest a town in broad strokes. It puts one in mind of a theatrical production, where a facade is used to represent a building and one can see inside a shop or house. It’s unsettling in this context: signs and clocks hang on empty air, and unlike the actors in a musical, the crew are well-aware that the buildings are unfinished.
Open air bar
It takes a few minutes and an interaction with one of the ‘locals’ to jog his memory, but Captain Kirk puts the pieces together to deduce that the setup represents the shootout at the O.K. Corral. He and his men are the Clanton brothers, destined to die to bullets shot by the Earps and Doc Holiday. Bullets that will kill them, as they discover when Chekov is shot down in the street.
Our heroes try to avoid their fate through diplomacy, trickery, and ‘the better part of valor’. Nothing works, not even the sleeping gas bomb that McCoy and Spock build together. But the fact that it doesn’t work when it should have worked convinces Spock that none of what they are experiencing is real. The bullets cannot hurt them, he tells the others, unless they believe they will.
In order to make sure the humans are all as convinced that the bullets are harmless as Spock is, he mind melds with each of them in turn. Then they stand, unworried, as they’re shot at. The fence behind them is filled with holes, but they, as Spock promised, are unharmed. Afterward Kirk has the opportunity to kill the Earps and Holiday, but chooses not to, even though he badly wants revenge for Chekov. The Melkotians, surprised at Kirk’s choice, agree to open diplomatic relations with the Federation.
A touching moment
We’ve seen a lot of these bits and pieces before. Westerns are ubiquitous, and the story of the shootout at Tombstone is an oft-visited well for modern-day storytellers. But how many of them cast the Clantons as the good guys? We’ve seen the Vulcan mind meld before, but never on multiple people in turn, and never to convince them of the unreality of their senses. We’ve seen powerful, telepathic aliens before. But unlike many of the others, the Melkotians aren’t messing around with the humans for their own amusement, or to protect us from ourselves, or to ‘test’ us. It’s clear that they don’t expect the humans to survive the punishment, and that they’re shocked that Kirk chooses not to kill the aggressors in the end. Whether the form of punishment was meant to be humane, giving the humans a familiar setting to die in, or whether it was supposed to remove the weight of responsibility from the Melkotians by forcing the humans into a ‘kill or be killed’ situation, or whether it was for some other reason entirely, we cannot know.
What we do know is that these familiar pieces fit together to make an entirely new kind of story, one that’s clever, compelling, and up there with the best of the Star Trek episodes we’ve seen.
Five stars.
Best Western
by Amber Dubin
I was pleasantly surprised that this episode marked another in the inspiring trend of season 3 episodes that absolutely knocked my socks off. The overarching premise is nothing special on its face: a shadowy, menacing entity issues an ominous warning a-la-Dante's-Inferno "abandon all hope, ye who enter here." Kirk promptly ignores the warning buoy, charging head-first into danger like the reckless adventurer we know him to be, and at first we appear to be treated to another "Catspaw"-like simulation with a western twist. This is where the similarities end between the season 2 and season 3 Halloween episodes, because this time around, the simulated world is much more intricate, meaningful and all around well-crafted.
Starting with the aliens' motivation for submerging the crew in this simulation, they explain that "you bring violence like a disease." This is a very valid threat and makes a lot of sense that the Melkotians would want to have this simulation in place to protect their planet from approaching unknown cultural contaminants.The crewmen have already refused to heed the initial warning, so it could hardly be called an escalation to issue this execution edict as judgment for their trespass. They prove themselves to be much more fair judges than some of the other alien species we've encountered, because they essentially allow a loophole in their trial, wherein the participants have one final chance to prove themselves worthy of access to their planet. It is fair too, that they design the interactive tribunal from details found within Kirk's mind, as it was Kirk that chose to disobey their warning and therefore Kirk should bear the bulk of the responsibility for their punishment.
Here come the Judge(s)
This is the first time, in my opinion, that they have found a valid reason to recreate ancient American history, as Captain Kirk has always been a stand-in for the audience's 1960's perspective, and one of the points in our history that Americans enjoy recreating most in film and fiction at this time is the Wild West. This time, incorporating our perspective is neatly explained by saying that Kirk has both the genetic memories of ancient North Americans from this era, and memories from his fan-crazed obsession with all things historical and fictional from American History. I even found it radically creative that the director manages to elegantly justify the half-finished western set pieces, as it was not only necessary that the crew know that the simulation was false, but also it was encouraged that they use that to their advantage to beat the system.
I also love that the trial that the crew endures this time is branded not as a trial but as an execution, further setting up the crew to fail as they would be inclined to see it as an inescapable punishment rather than an simulation whose outcome they could influence. The Melkotians may well have hoped the humans would fail. Certainly, they were surprised when they didn't.
I'm particularly impressed that this episode got me to do something I previously thought unthinkable: enjoy western-themed television.
5 stars
Unexpected Diplomacy
by Lorelei Marcus
Captain Kirk took an unexpectedly persistent talk-before-phasers approach to interacting with the Melkotians and their executioner puppets. At the beginning of the episode, he mentions the importance of contacting the Melkotians and implies the goal of peacefully adding them to the Federation. Given the importance of the mission, and our Enterprise captain's previous track record handling aliens, I can only imagine the training exercise Star Fleet put Kirk through to prepare him for his task:
"Alright, Captain. On the table, you will see a phaser and a communicator. The scenario is you are attempting to make contact with a peaceful alien species. Please choose the object you feel is best suited for this situation."
(Kirk reaches for the phaser and is shocked with an electric buzzer.)
"Ouch!"
"Please choose again."
(Rubbing at his wrist, Kirk reaches for the communicator this time. A green light turns on and a pleasant song starts playing.)
"Very good, Captain. Onto the next task…"
"I can't just kill them! I won't get any candy!"
In any case, I found this episode to be quite fun, particularly our new, diplomatic captain. Four stars.
We Come in Peace
by Erica Frank
"We come in peace," said Kirk… as he raised his phaser. No wonder the Melkot didn't believe him.
The Melkotians were clear that they wanted no part of the Federation. When the Enterprise decided to visit anyway –"establish contact at all costs"–the Melkotians were ready for them. (Kirk, you did establish contact; you met and conversed, and their response was No. If you meant "establish regular communications and diplomatic negotiations," well, that dance takes two willing partners.)
Kirk and his team wound up somewhere that looked more like a movie set or a stage play than an actual town. They thought this was "the Melkotians' idea of a town" rather than "a construct taking place in our own minds," despite having substantial experience with powerful telepaths who can make them experience entire landscapes that don't actually exist.
Why did it take them half the episode to attempt to leave town and discover the force field blocking their exit?
They spent most of their time trying to figure out how to get out of the impending gunfight, instead of looking for loopholes in the "reality" that they should recognize as false. However, even as they accepted the storyline they're stuck in, Kirk looked for ways to avoid the ending.
I don't know if he insisted on not fighting the Earps because he honestly believes it's wrong, or because he recognized that, in this story, once the shooting starts, his entire team will be killed.
They passed the Melkotians' test by refusing to shoot. (…Spock's getting awfully free with the mind-melds, recently.) I'm not sure I'd accept the results: Kirk knew that there was no way to win a shoot-out. Perhaps that was the point–not, "prove you are a non-violent species" (obviously not true), but "prove to us that you can find other ways to solve problems."
I like the Melkotians. They're only the third near-omnipotent aliens we've met that aren't petty tyrants. The Metron had a similar test, making Kirk fight the Gorn–they, too, were pleasantly surprised that Kirk found a way around killing. And we never learned the name of the race that built the Shore Leave planet.
Four stars.
I suppose he is the "Spectre of the Guns."
A Near-Shakespearean Paen for Nonviolence
by Jessica Dickinson Goodman
With death served up on the doorstep with the morning paper, I needed this episode this week. Bracketed by political campaign ads crowing about violence in various cities and jungles, I found Kirk's passionate nonviolence struck a powerful chord. The episode's overall contrast with the morning death toll was satisfying but somehow it was Commander Spock's cool lines that I loved the most.
"A radical alteration of our thought patterns must be in order."
In that moment, the episode twists reality to reach the profound fantasies of those of us whose loved ones are – or tomorrow will – lay in the grave, or in the mud, waiting for a G.I. sniper or Viet Cong fighter to take what life they have lived and in all their future lives. To restate it, Spock's idea is that in the constructed world of this week's impossibly powerful alien, if you know you cannot be killed by bullets, you cannot. "Know" because "believe" requires the acknowledgment of the potential for doubt, but knowing requires a perfect certainty. In Spock's psychic certainty there is physical safety and real, true resurrection for the marooned crew.
This is what I love about science fiction, the fantasies that science fiction allows us, fantasies that give us enough breathing room to imagine a better world. Sometimes that world has to be far simpler for the conceit to play out. The world of this episode is much simpler than our own, which is why this trick of Commander Spock's is so intuitively effective. It felt in many moments like a stage play, and made me wonder how the Bard would have set the prologue:
Two families, both alike in indignity,
in fair Tombstone Arizona is where we lay our scene,
from lukewarm grudge break to new mutiny,
where uncivil blood makes uncivil hands unclean.
There is a little bit of a sweet Romeo and Juliet going on with Chekov in this episode, though it doesn’t entirely play out, ending up more of a joke than driving the narrative.
It really is our dynamic trio who make the episode, in their debates as to how to avoid furthering the cycle of violence the alien of the week has thrown them into. Kirk's attempt to explain was so satisfying to watch as he shouted and fought not to fight. His framing of his own family's history added a depth of character for me, as many of the passing references in this season do.
While we can understand that his ancestors were part of the genocide against the Native Americans of the American West, I like to think if Kirk was alive right now and his draft number came due, he would hike over the border to Canada. Draft dodging in this way would be a key way to keep his hands and mind and blood from being complicit in killing, whether of one man or entire families, entire communities. If no one fought, there would be no wars, and we see how that can start with someone like Kirk refusing to fight. In this case, there are no deadly consequences for the draft dodgers, as Spock's science fictional defense is perfectly effective.
In our more complicated reality, it is not so easy. There is no curtain call on the battlefield, and no alien to blame for the violence that engulfs us. So many occupied graves may make draftees feel obligated to fill in a few more before they punch their final ticket. But I do fervently hope that those who are conscripts or reservists or draftees called to slaughter can watch this episode before they board their planes and tanks, before they load up their all-too-lethal guns with human-killing bullets. I hope it inspires them as only science fiction can to consider another path, the all-too-human journey of nonviolence.
5 stars.
The Greatest Show off Earth!
by Gideon Marcus
Most of my colleagues were impressed by the story, the message, and so forth. Those are all laudable topics, and I'm glad they've covered them more eloquently than I would have. However, I just want to comment on how much I've been enjoying the third season of Star Trek, how far this show has come.
1968 is an interesting moment. Laugh-In has infected all other media. Psychedelia is de rigeur It's a time of experimentation and irreverence. As I noted in my last review, the New Wave has made it to Trek. Indeed, my friend, part-time Journeyer Brian Collins said that, if he didn't know better, he'd have thought Phillip K. Dick wrote this episode!
So it's no surprise we get all sorts of neat stuff, visually, aurally, literarily. According to my friend Maurice, the partial "limbo" that comprises the setting actually borrows a lot from the 1953 musical comedy Red Garters. However, "Spectre" uses the setting to unsettle, to connote things unfinished, and also because it's just cool and weird!
The score is once again brand new. That makes it the fourth or fifth new score we've had this season, and as usual, it is excellent and fitting. Trek has the best music this side of Hollywood Palace.
Vince McEevety's direction is, once again, excellent. I don't think it's a coincidence that his episodes ("Balance of Terror", "Miri", to some degree "Patterns of Force") have not only been innovative in their execution, but have also wrung out good performances from its actors. Shatner, in particular, has had a tendency to ham things up (very unkosher!) since the end of the 1st season. There's none of that in this episode. His encounter with Sheriff Behan, when he plaintively yells that he can't kill the Earps, his mourning over Chekov's death, his subtle reactions to his crew, particularly in the gas testing scene…all terrific. Chekov finally gets a role he can chew on, and he's great. Scotty as well. The Big Three are thoroughly in character, up to and including McCoy arguing both sides of the fence—"Cheer up, Jim!" followed by "Shut up, Spock! We're grieving!")
"I am not someone you can marry, although marriage was inwented in Russia."
And the guest stars, particularly the Earps/Doc Holliday, turn in performances that are nearly robotic, but highly emotive nevertheless. It's a hard needle to thread, but they manage it.
I find my esteem for this episode rising in the glow of the morning after, and in the conversations it has sparked with my comrades. I was going to give it 4 stars, but I think it moves up to 4.5 now.
Just as America returned to space in a big way with this month's flight of Apollo 7, the Soviets have also recovered from their 1967 tragedy (Soyuz 1) with an impressive feat. Georgy Beregovoi, a rookie cosmonaut (ironically also the oldest man in space thus far, surpassing 45 year-old Wally Schirra by two years) has taken Soyuz 3 into orbit for a series of rendezvous and perhaps dockings (TASS is being vague on the issue) with the unmanned Soyuz 2.
Comrade Beregovoi in training
We've seen flights like this before, but this is the first time there has been a person involved. Many are calling this a harbinger of an impending lunar flight, though NASA is adamant that this particular flight won't go to the moon. Indeed, Dr. Ed Welsh, Secretary of the National Aeronautics and Space Council says Soyuz and September's Zond 5, which went around the moon, are completely different craft and the Russians aren't even close to fielding a lunar mission.
We'll have more on this flight in a few days. Stay tuned.
On the ground
Like the flights of Soyuz 2 and 3, this month's Analog is outwardly impressive, but once you dig in, it's not so great.
Centuries from now, after the fall of the Age of Science, humanity is divided into two camps: the "Olsaparns", who dwell in isolated technological camps and retain a semblance of the original technology and society, and the Novos—psionically adept savages who live in conservative Packs. One of the Pack members is Starn, who possesses a brand new ability that allows him to best even the telepathically and premonitionally blessed. He runs afoul of Nagister Nont, a highly adept, highly disagreeable trader, who kidnaps his wife.
After a raid on the Olsaparns leaves Starn close to death, the technologists remake him into something more machine than man, like Ted White's Android Avenger. The Olsaparns want Nont out of the picture, so they help Starn in his quest to defeat the mutant and get back his wife.
I have no fault with the writing, which is brisk and engaging. I take some issue with the pages of discussion on whether or not psi powers be linked with primitiveness, or the concept that humanity could regress to Pithecanthropy in a scant few generations (or the idea that evolution must be a road that one goes forward and backward on; I thought we gave up teleology last century). But I blazed through the novella in short order, so… four stars.
The Ultimate Danger, by W. Macfarlane
by Kelly Freas
In which Captain Lew Frizel takes a shipload of eggheads to a hallucinogenic planet. He is the only one who, more or less, keeps his head. The message appears to be that LSD can be employed by aliens to judge our character. Or something.
Three stars?
The Shots Felt 'Round the World, by Edward C. Walterscheid
This piece, on atomic tests, was much easier reading than Walterscheid's last article. Do you realize that we have detonated half a billion TNT tons worth of nuclear explosives since 1945? It's a wonder there's anything left of Nevada.
Four stars.
The Rites of Man, by John T. Phillifent
by Rudolph Palais
A scientist is working on rationalizing the art of interpersonal relations (because in Phillifent's universe, no one has invented sociology). About twenty pages into that effort, humanoid (really, human) aliens show up and ask to be allowed to compete in the Olympics. They do, but they lose on purpose so we won't hate them. Then we interbreed.
Possibly the dullest, most pointless story I've ever read in this magazine. One star.
Humanity is a resilient creature, tough enough to tame any world. Except that planet Sibylla, with its poisonous soil, extreme axial tilt, thin atmosphere, temperature extremes, high gravity, and violent weather may actually be more than Terrans can handle. What does one do when a world is too minimal to sustain a colony? And what is the value of 10,000 settler lives against the teeming, impoverished billions of Earth?
This is a vividly written piece with some excellent astronomy. If I didn't know better, I'd say Poul Anderson is writing under a pseudonym. I felt the solution to the colonists' problem, though reasonable, was not sufficiently set up to be deduced. Also, I felt Karageorge missed the opportunity to make a more profound statement at the end than "well, humanity can lick almost all comers." I'd have preferred something on the point of colonization or the shifting of priorities on a racial scale.
Still, a high three stars.
Split Personality, by Jack Wodhams
by Kelly Freas
Mauger, a homicidal brute, agrees to be split in two for science instead of getting the chair. Instead of this resulting in two new individuals, it turns out that the two halves remain connected, the gestalt whole. Thus, Maugam can literally be in two places at once.
This is timely as the first interstellar drive has had teething troubles. Two test ships have gotten lost, unable to communicate with Earth. Now, half of Maugam can fly on the ship while the other stays home and reports, since telepathy, for some reason, is instant.
It's actually not a bad story, though it's really just a bunch of magic and coincidence. It works because Wodhams has set it up to work a certain way, not because this is any kind of realistic scientific extrapolation. Also, it's hard to work up any sympathy for a homicidal brute.
Three stars.
Doing the math
When everything is crunched together, we end up with Analog clocking in at exactly 3 stars—again, adequate, but vaguely disappointing. On the other hand, it's been something of a banner month in SF (provided you're not looking for female writers; they wrote less than 7% of the new fiction pieces published). Except for IF (2.6), every other outlet scored higher than 3. To wit:
Star Trek is usually defined as an "action-adventure show" or maybe just a "science fiction program". While it is the first truly SFnal production on television (The Twilight Zone and The Outer Limits had their moments, but for the most part, their science fiction was primitive), for its first two seasons, it tended to hew close to its '40s era Astounding Science Fiction roots.
With last week's episode, that all changed. The 1960s, and the experimental New Wave movement, has arrived on television.
Diana Muldaur returns to Trek as Dr. Miranda Jones, a human telepath who has never seen Earth, but who spent four years on Vulcan learning to master and tame her profound powers. She has been tapped to serve as ambassador to the Medusans, a race of inchoate aliens of sublime thoughts and profound navigational abilities, but whose appearance is so hideous as to render all humans who see them insane. Jones is accompanied by the Medusan ambassador to the Federation, Kollos, who spends most of his time in a box for the safety of the crew.
Ambassador Kollos is brought to his quarters by Mr. Spock and Dr. Jones
Jones is a meaty role, much more interesting than when Muldaur played Dr. Ann Mulhall in "Return to Tomorrow", and Muldaur plays it perfectly. Her demeanor is largely arch and cool, as befits Vulcan stoicism, but there are flashes of the human, too: jealousy regarding her unique relationship with Kollos, which she feels is threatened by Spock, who can both look at Kollos and communicate with him; irritation at the parochial behavior of the Enterprise's senior officers, who can't believe she'd give up on men to live with a monster; resentment when things do not go her way.
"Gentlemen, surely we can patronize Dr. Jones a little more intensely. Perhaps if we tower over her!"
The fly in this episode's ointment is another kind of emotion: one-sided love. Accompanying Jones is Lawrence Marvick, an illustrious engineer who is ostensibly there to contemplate how a Medusan might integrate into the crew of a starship. His real aim, however, is to convince Jones to abandon her mission to stay with him. To attain this goal, he is willing to resort to murder. Unfortunately for him, when he confronts Kollos, phaser in hand, all the alien has to do is open his protective box. Marvick is violently repelled by Kollos' appearance and, insane, takes control of engineering just long enough to drive the Enterprise into the barrier that surrounds the galaxy. The ship becomes lost in the zone, and none of the crew can navigate the ship out.
Where 430 men (and women) have gone twice before.
But Kollos can. Spock, with his telepathic abilities and his Starfleet training, volunteers to fuse minds with the Medusan, resulting in an astonishing hybrid, which successfully navigates the ship out of the zone with no difficulty. I cannot adequately express how marvelous Nimoy is in this role, subtly uniting the sober Spock with the somewhat whimsical, profound Kollos in an absolutely unique performance.
Sp/ollos makes an excellent navigator. I'd love to see a Medusan/Vulcan gestalt in a future episode!
The crew is not out of the woods, however. Upon returning Kollos to his box, Spock inadvertently catches a glimpse of the Medusan and goes insane. Only Jones and her telepathic abilities can save him—but her pettiness causes her to hesitate. It is up to Kirk, frantic with worry for his friend (indeed, seemingly more worried than he was for his ship, for once) to convince the doctor to do her utmost. In the end, what convinces her is the thought that Kollos would never forgive her if she let Spock die.
Kirk gives Dr. Jones a tough talk. To his credit, he is immediately concerned he did it wrong. (For the most part, he does…but one arrow hits the mark.)
I must express how excellent Shatner's performance is in this episode, as well. Missing are his usual, scenery-chewing tics. I have to think that the superlative jobs the cast did in this outing must be somewhat attributed to director Ralph Senensky.
Indeed, all of the "staff officers" of the show, from the cinematographer to the score master to the costume designer, work to elevate the production of "Truth". There are unusual angles, edits, and lenses to convey the disjointedness of insanity and to give a fresh feeling to the show; the score is entirely new and very evocative (though the distinctive "fight" theme is used perhaps one time too many); Dr. Jones' dress, which turns out to be a sensor web, enabling the normally sightless doctor to navigate (an excellent twist tastefully revealed), is terrific.
To be sure, the episode is not completely unexplored territory. Ugliness not equaling evil was a significant message in "The Devil in the Dark", with the monstrous Horta being a gentle, desperate mother being. The Enterprise has visited the galactic barrier twice before, in "Where No Man Has Gone Before" and "By Any Other Name". Both Spock and the ship are put in danger, two occurrences which the show-runners have made almost de riguer as plot drivers.
Amok Spock—don't drop acid, kids.
But it's the way it's all done that's special. Beyond the first class work turned in by the cast and crew, the writer must be credited. The pacing is unusual for Trek, with the episode's four acts of unequal length adding to the dreamy sense of madness that suffuses the episode. There is no one crisis to be resolved, but a mounting series of crises all revolving around the Spock/Miranda/Kollos relationship. In the end, the episode is not about Spock surviving or the Enterprise crew getting home safely, but about an unique woman in an unique situation navigating the fusion of not two but three alien races.
It's a rich, beautiful thing. Jean Lisoette Aroeste is a new name to me. This may well be her very first screenplay, and it is her newness that brings such a fresh cast to the show. Just as IF has made it its mission to bring new writers into the literary SF genre, it appears that the mature show of Star Trek may be providing that same vehicle for SF screenwriters (particularly women—the upcoming script, "The Empath" is also by a TV novice, the friend of a fanzine-writing friend).
I can't wait to see how the show develops as a result. 5 stars.
You've come a long way, baby
by Janice L. Newman
Most of the time, Star Trek gets it right. Women are frequently shown in positions of power and authority, and are given the respect such positions deserve. But even in the future, they occasionally run afoul of the undercurrent of sexism omnipresent in our own society. The dismissive attitude about Lieutenant Palamas in Who Mourns for Adonais, for example, or the exasperation shown toward Commissioner Hedford in Metamorphosis (not to mention the lack of concern for her ultimate fate), jar uncomfortably against our hopes and visions of a world where women have true equality and are allowed to pursue their dreams without facing condemnation or condescension—regardless of whether their dream is to be an engineer, a mother, or both.
The silver lining is when the women turn the sexist expectations of the male crewmembers on their heads. The treatment of Dr. Miranda Jones by the senior officers of the Enterprise (excluding Spock) borders on insulting. Dr. McCoy questions her career choice, while Captain Kirk is convinced of his own ability to divert her attention to himself, and patronizingly explains to her what she really wants.
Some of the best moments of the episode are when Dr. Jones defies the men’s expectations. Consider this exchange:
Dr. McCoy: “How can one so beautiful condemn herself to look upon ugliness the rest of her life? Will we allow it, gentlemen?”
All the men at the table: Certainly not.
Dr. Jones: How can one so full of joy and the love of life as you, Doctor, condemn yourself to look upon disease and suffering for the rest of your life? Can we allow that, gentlemen?
Or this one:
Captain Kirk: You're young, attractive and human. Sooner or later, no matter how beautiful their minds are, you're going to yearn for someone who looks like yourself, someone who isn't ugly.
Miranda: Ugly. What is ugly? Who is to say whether Kollos is too ugly to bear or too beautiful to bear?
Miranda’s quick witted responses, turning the men’s words back on themselves, are enormously satisfying. Her resistance to Captain Kirk’s charms is equally delightful. As much as I dislike any portrayal of sexism in the future, Miranda’s counters made it worth it. They made me wonder about the author of the episode, who she(?) is and whether she encounters such comments in her own daily life. Were the words of Dr. Jones intended to give professional women everywhere a blueprint for how to deal with such difficult situations?
Four and a half stars.
The Ambassadors
by Joe Reid
An ambassador is one that represents their country to a host country. This week in Star Trek we got to see several ambassadors of several races…and of more than one variety.
From the onset of the episode, when we were introduced to Dr. Jones, her desirability as a woman was heavily stressed. Kirk paid Jones several compliments that would lead one to think that Kirk really had a strong interest in her. These were followed by McCoy, and even Spock, who later dressed in Vulcan formal attire with the intent of honoring Dr. Jones.
All the males in this episode seemed strongly drawn to Dr. Jones, even the poor lovesick fellow who lost his life pursuing her. What was also clear was that Doctor Jones had absolutely no interest in the attention of these men in the episode. She was essentially at war with those who wanted her (perhaps a necessary battle to win status as a woman). What piqued her interest was the possibility of building a stronger connection to ambassador Kollos through a mind melding.
Her desire for Kollos was so all-encompassing that when it was revealed that Spock would have an opportunity to meld with Kollos ahead of her, she screamed out in frustration. Her rejection of the attentions of all other men throughout the episode demonstrated her desire for Kollos.
In the end, her desires were requited. Kollos did indeed have some measure of desire for her as well. We saw this as when he joined with Spock, Kollos paid special attention to her, highlighting the fact that her future and his would be intertwined going forward on his world in their near future. Although this was complicated when he also paid special attention to Uhura, Jones was able to receive confirmation of Kollos’ feeling for her when she melded with Spock in order to save his life. That connection to Kollos through Spock was all that she needed to assuage her fears and insecurity about her future with Kollos.
This successful conclusion to the story had Spock himself playing as the ambassador from the heart of Kollos to the heart of Jones, thus ending the quiet war between men and the doctor.
Happy endings for everyone.
It was a fantastic story with solid acting, great costumes, and three-dimensional characterizations. More of this please!
The politics of race have been an actively displayed part of the Olympics as long as I can remember. Who can forget boxer Joe Louis defeating Max Schmelling at the 1936 Summer Games in Nazi Berlin? So it should come as no surprise that, at a time when the race crisis in America has reached a fever pitch, that there should be an expression of solidarity and protest at this year's quadrennial event in Mexico City.
The fellows with their hands "clenched in a fist, marching to the [Mexico City] War" (to paraphrase Ritchie Havens) are medal-winning sprinters Tommie Smith (Gold) and John Carlos (Bronze) who had just won the 200-meter finals. Peter Norman of Australia (Silver), while making no physical gesture, is wearing the same "Olympics Project for Human Rights" medal as his fellow winners.
Why did the winners present this display? I'll let Carlos speak for himself with his comments at a post-race, press conference:
We both want you to print what I say the way I say it or not at all. When we arrived, there were boos. We want to make it clear that white people seem to think black people are animals doing a job. We want people to understand that we are not animals or rats. We want you to tell Americans and all the world that if they do not care what black people do, they should not go to see black people perform.
If you think we are bad, the 1972 Olympic Games are going to be mighty rough because Africans are winning all the medals."
Carlos added, responding to press references to "Negro athletes" said,
I prefer to be called 'black'…If I do something bad, they won't say American, they say Negro.
Smith and Carlos, described by the Los Angeles Times as "Negro Militants", have been expelled from the Games by International Olympic Committee President Avery Brundage. This is the height of hypocrisy—how many times have we heard "we don't mind if Negroes protest; we just get upset when they riot and burn things"? Yet, here we have two men, American sports heroes, who peacefully highlight the plight of the Afro-American in our fraught country, and they're the bad guys?
With anti-Brundage feelings piqued and the U.S. expected to win today in the 400 and 1,600 meter relay finals (with nary a white man on competing on the teams), it is quite possible further displays of solidarity will be presented during the playing of our National Anthem.
Right on, brothers.
Speculative Power
It is with this as backdrop that I finished this month's issue of Fantasy and Science Fiction, which also leads with a powerful image. Does it deliver as striking a message? Let's read on and see:
by Gray Morrow
Once There Was a Giant, by Keith Laumer
Ulrik Baird is an interstellar merchant carrying a cargo of ten flash frozen miners in need of medical attention. In the vicinity of the low-gravity planet Vangard, his drive goes out, sending him hurtling toward the planet. But the planet is quarantined, off limits to outsiders. Nevertheless, Baird has no choice—a landing will happen one way or another; if it's a hard landing, the miners won't survive. Grudgingly, interstellar traffic control grants him clearance and coordinates to touch down softly. The approach is too fast for safety, and so Baird ejects, parachuting down, his frigid charges ejected safely in a separate, parachuting pod.
All according to Baird's plan.
Under the name of Carl Patton, Baird meets up with the last surviving man on Vangard, a 12 foot behemoth with the nickname 'Johnny Thunder'. Together with his 7' mastiff, the giant insists on accompanying Patton to where the pod of miners landed somewhere in the frozen wastes.
Again, all according to plan.
The plan is, in fact, quite clever, and this story marks a rare return to form for Laumer, who has been phoning it in of late. This is a story Poul Anderson would have woven liberally with archaicisms and mawkish sentiment. Laumer plays it straight, sounding more like E.C. Tubb in his first (the good) Dumarest story.
What keeps the tale from excellence is its resolution. Ultimately, Laumer provides the Hollywood ending, where everyone's a winner (more or less). His moral is roughly the same as Dickson's in this month's Building off the Line: some men are Real Men to be envied. The story even has a riveting travel sequence that takes up much of the story. An interesting bit of synchronicity.
I think I like this one better than Dickson's, but I still would have prefered something more downbeat, more nuanced. Four stars.
The Devil in Exile, by Brian Cleeve
Brother, here we go again.
Old Nick and his right-hand demon, Belphagor, were thrown out of the underworld by unionized hellions. An attempt to get Jack O'Hara, formerly a common drunk, lately a crime boss, to cross the union lines to bring the Devil back to power backfired when O'Hara took charge of The Pit.
Now, down to their last pence, Lucifer and friend pose as upper crust Britishers and miraculously (is that the word?) become heads of the Ministry of Broadcasting. Their debaucherous fare quickly wins over not just the terrestrial airwaves, but also those in Hell, and the Prince of Lies is restored to his rightful throne. Finis.
This installation is as tiresome and would-be-but-not-actually funny as the other two. Good riddance.
Two stars.
by Gahan Wilson
Coins, by Leo P. Kelley
In the time of Afterit, decades after The Bomb poisoned the world with its radioactive seed, humans have given up making decisions. After all, that's what brought about the Apocalypse, isn't it? Men making decisions? Instead, life is reduced to a series of 50/50 chances, each determined by the flip of a common coin.
Vividly written, but the premise (and the story's ending) are better suited to the comics. Anyone remember Batman's nemesis Two-Face from the '40s?
Three stars.
A Score for Timothy, by Joseph Harris
Timothy Porterfield is one of the world's greatest mystery writers. When he passes away after a long career, this seems to be the end—after all, does not death write the final chapter? Perhaps not, with the help of a medium with a flair for automatic writing. Nevertheless, there is still one final twist to the tale of Timothy…
Well wrought, atmospheric, and you're never quite sure how it will turn out. I liked it. Four stars.
Investigating the Curiosity Drive, by Tom Herzog
Curiosity killed the cat, but could it not also kill the human? And if one's goal is to test to determine whether or not curiosity be the salient feature of any sentient being, isn't it vital that one pick a being who isn't wise to your test?
This is a silly story, ultimately building to a joke that isn't worth the trip. Two stars.
The Planetary Eccentric , by Isaac Asimov
The Good Doctor discusses the discovery of Pluto and how it simply can't be the "Planet X" Percival Lowell was looking for. He does not quite so far as to say that it's not a planet at all, however, as some have opined.
Good article. Four stars.
Young Girl at an Open Half-Door, by Fred Saberhagen
The Museum of Art is haunted, it seems. Every night, an elusive prowler sets off the alarms in two of rooms housing prize exhibits. When a troubleshooter is dispatched, he finds the intruder is on something of a salvage mission, rescuing the art as insurance against an impending disaster. More importantly, said troubleshooter finds love…
It's a well-told story, and the ending is suitably chilling, though I found the romantic elements a bit too rushed for plausibility. Four stars.
In this, the second shaggy dog story of Brigadier Ffelowes, we return to 1938 Sweden for a brush with gods that make the Aesir look like Johnny-Come-Latelies. It's sort of Lovecraftian and not as compelling as the first tale Ffelowes recounted, which took place in the Caribbean. Not bad; just sort of pedestrian.
Three stars.
Stepping down from the podium
You know, it's nice to be able to step away from the real world for a while. There are important things going on that one must keep tabs on, causes to support, but everyone needs a break. Thankfully, this month's F&SF, while it presents no absolute stand-outs, nevertheless presents no real clunkers, and it finishes at 3.4 stars—well above the 3-star line.
Star Trek is, first and foremost, a science fiction show. But science fiction is a special genre in that it need not be constrained by the same rules as other genres. A story that’s science fiction can also be a Western, a romance, a mystery…or a horror story, such as Wolf in the Fold and Catspaw attempted to be. On the first Friday in October, we gathered our friends in our backyard and watched on our portable 13" one of the scariest episodes of Star Trek I’ve seen yet.
The story opens with a landing party (which includes the Captain, Mr. Spock, and Dr. McCoy, as has become standard these days) investigating a research colony that has fallen out of contact with the Federation. They find the research team dead, all of them having drunk poison. One member is conveniently still alive, but can only gasp out a few cryptic words before collapsing.
The heroes’ shock is interrupted and then multiplied when a group of children (of varying ages and ethnicities) burst out of the shelter and immediately begin playing noisy games, apparently unconcerned that their parents are lying there dead.
This theme is repeated when the children are brought back to the ship. At first they’re cooperative, but when asked questions about their parents and their family life they ignore or dismiss them, pulling each other into games involving shouting and running.
The whole setup is pretty creepy, with the contrast of the dead bodies and the unconcerned children being particularly effective. Soon, the viewer learns that there’s more going on with the children than meets the eye. Out of sight of the adults, they use a singsong chant to summon an alien who instructs them to ‘control the crew’ and tells them ‘you know how to do that’.
The "friendly angel" exhorts his minions as they pound the table with Nuremberg rally fervor
So begins the truly scary part of the story. The children scatter to different parts of the ship. By making a pounding gesture with one hand, they can force the crew to see what they want them to see, usually an illusion that taps into a deeply-held fear. One by one the crewmembers fall under the spell, even Spock at one point asking the Captain, “Why are we bothering Starfleet?” when Kirk orders him to send out a distress call.
Seeing the normally unflappable crew caught up in the children’s illusions is genuinely disconcerting – Sulu grabs Kirk’s arm to keep him away from the controls, Scotty threatens him, Chekov points a phaser at him – but the children in the background of each shot are the ones that carry the real menace. Whether it’s the red-haired ringleader on the bridge or the tiny boy partially-obscured in engineering, it’s clear that the kids are the ones really in charge, and that’s a terrifying thought. Maybe on a larger TV screen or a well-lit room it would have worked less well. On our small color TV, watched outside on a chilly October night, it was riveting.
Spock and Kirk eventually manage to overcome the control and, after inspiring doubts in the children’s minds about their alien friend, use a recording of the children’s chant to summon the alien. Kirk breaks through the children’s seeming apathy by showing them recordings of their parents, then cutting to shots of their parents’ bodies and gravestones. It’s tough love, but it works. The children turn against the alien and it disintegrates, yelling, “Death to you all!” as it dies.
Kirk comforts the weeping children, telling them, “It’s all right.” I’m not sure it is all right, at least not for the kids. After all, their parents are dead, and they helped kill them. Thus we are left with a lingering horror despite the ‘happy ending’.
I liked this episode more than I’d expected to. Child actors are notoriously tricky to work with, but their performances weren’t too bad. In fact, far worse was the children’s alien friend, who they called ‘angel’ and Kirk called, ‘Gorgon’. He was played by Melvin Belli, perhaps most famous for being the attorney who represented Jack Ruby, the man who shot Lee Harvey Oswald; for an actor, he's a pretty good lawyer. Perhaps the stilted delivery to the children was intentional, but I couldn’t help but feel a better performer could have delivered the lines far more convincingly and with greater menace.
Still, it was a great start to the spookiest month of the year, and a nice return to form for Star Trek. I’m taking off half a star for the Gorgon’s poor performance, leaving it with three and a half stars.
Who's Responsible?
by Lorelei Marcus
There's a new show this season that rivals Star Trek in popularity for us young folks. It's called Mod Squad, and it stars three young adults who work as undercover cops. Unlike most of the police shows on TV, it has a lot of heart, and it's not afraid to tell it like it is. Most compelling, though, is the hope it portrays. It gives us the cops we want to see—diverse, young, relatable, and trying to do good and protect people.
The Mod Squad and their Captain (the Klingon in "Friday's Child")
The Mod Squad leads are a far cry from the militant, "law-and-order" brutes who aim firehoses at kids in a sit-in or beat protestors bloody at the Democratic National convention. All the adults of today are calling for law and order, scared of what the kids will do. Funny enough, I think we all really want the same thing: peace. But to get it, we need to stop shipping our boys to die in Vietnam, stop packing black people into city slums, and stop ogling girls like they're nothing but pieces of meat. We need change, and sadly, I don't think any of the old politicians of today can give us that change.
I feel a kinship with the children of last week's Star Trek episode. Those kids wanted freedom, and the right to happiness, and time with the ones they loved. Yet they also terrified me, because under the right (wrong) guidance, they had great power, and that power was misled. With that power, they plunged the Enterprise into anarchy, rendering each of our beloved and competent crew useless by playing on their fears. Even Captain Kirk was reduced to a dithering, anxious fool for a time. Most horrifying was the children being tricked into causing the death of their own parents. Like those kids, we (me and my generation) are pent up and we want change. We have the power to make it happen. But is it worth it if it costs us our loved ones?
From a recent Nixon for President commercial: how he wants you to see kids
But the thing is, kids aren't inherently scary—just, under the right circumstances, desperate. We don't have money or experience. We're growing up in uncertain times and we're scared to death we won't make it past 20. Ultimately, we don't want to hurt anyone. We just want to save ourselves. But I can see that fear makes us dangerous, and the adults, too. We're all scared, like stampeding zebras, unsure of where we're going, and who we're trampling in our path. I can bet those kids on the Enterprise were scared. How might the episode have ended differently if one adult stopped to see their point of view?
Who will stop to see ours? Or will we have to keep shaking our firsts to be heard, playing on fears until someone gets hurt? Something will bridge the gap, I hope. Maybe it starts with a conversation sparked by this episode. For that, and its compelling pacing, story, and acting, I give this episode four stars.
Successes and Failures of Fear
by Mx. Blue Cathey-Thiele
In the face of overwhelming odds, the core Enterprise crew remains frighteningly efficient. Those same strengths are devastating when turned back on our heroes. Scotty's steady, unmoving presence and protection of the auxiliary control blocks Kirk and Spock from the engines. Sulu's precision is narrowed to keep the ship on course and unscathed, unable to question if the weapons he sees are real. Chekov's loyalty is strained, torn between his Captain and the even higher authority of Starfleet command.
"You die, Captain—and we all go up in rank!"
The odd one out is Lt. Uhura. While her colleagues' fears and perceptions revolved around duty, she was shown a painful death in old age, reflected in a mirror only she could see. This was just the latest time a woman on 'Trek was derailed by loss of youth or beauty. Yeoman Rand, distressed over her legs in Miri, Lt. Galway afraid to sleep after aging rapidly in The Deadly Years (at least the mirror she complained of actually existed). The trio taking the Venus drug in Mudd's Women. Uhura herself already encountered this when she was offered an immortal, youthful robot body in I, Mudd – and importantly, chose not to accept. She's a professional, and there was already the perfect moment to set her fear: when Kirk's instruction to the bridge security came out as garbled nonsense. Communication is her specialty, and she's had to relearn language before when Nomad erased her knowledge in The Changeling.
Pushing the crew in the wrong direction is a masterstroke. These people are exceptional at what they do and they don't know the harm they are causing. This is where the horror crept in. Not only was the crew unaware that they were helping the "angel" towards its destination, they were convinced that they were keeping the ship safe. Modern day propaganda may not manifest visions or change perception so literally, but if everything you know is telling you one thing, how do you begin to question it? A sense of justice or duty isn't enough, and the most well-intentioned can still cause great damage. Kirk orders a security shift change, and two officers are transported to where the planet is supposed to be, only to die silently in empty space, off screen. These deaths feel entirely preventable – no one was shooting at them, there was no need to fight! And yet, horribly, there was no way for any of them to know. Like his crew, Kirk did everything right, and it still resulted in tragedy. The children induced an artificial anxiety, but the aftermath will haunt the crew for much longer. How to know if a future mission is doing more good than harm? Or perhaps even worse, has the Enterprise been an unknowing party to devastation in the past, all while under the impression of a successful mission?
4 stars
Without Followers, Evil Cannot Spread
by Robin Rose Graves
Initially, I was annoyed by yet another “magical children” plot in Star Trek, as in the first season we had "Charlie X", and overall I’m not fond of Trek including magic as a seemingly limitless device. Despite my initial hesitation, the episode won me over with its appropriately creepy tone and mastermind behind the children’s behavior, who I feel has great political relevance to our own history.
To summon the Gorgon, the children chant “hail, hail, fire and snow…” which could possibly be a play on the word “heil.” Perhaps the Gorgon targeting children for recruits was a nod to Hitler’s youth – or maybe it has something deeper to say about the followers who enable such evil men to rise to power. Perhaps the children represent naivete that can be preyed upon, a selfishness that can be manipulated, and a lack of regard to consequences. “Evil does seek power by suppressing the truth,” Spock noted of the children being unaware of what they were doing. “Or by misleading the innocent,” McCoy added. The Gorgon was not just an alien version of Hitler, but every demagogue we’ve known and are yet to know, from Lincoln Rockwell to George Wallace.
“They’re children being misled,” Kirk said, in defense of the children, to which Spock replied “they are followers. Without followers, evil cannot spread.” Within these lines, Spock exposed the Gorgon’s strength and weakness, and reminded us that it is the people who give leaders power, but those same followers can take that power away. That, I believe, is the true message of the episode.
Appropriately, this episode was followed by a commercial for Richard Nixon aimed at today's youth.
3 stars.
Un-asked Questions
by Joe Reid
“And the Children Shall Lead” is this week’s episode of Star Trek. It is frankly an episode that leaves much to be desired. It has too many open questions that could have been answered, but in the end were not, coupled with a threat that is so easy to spot that it makes one wonder whether the outcome couldn’t have been avoided by asking a few simple questions. How about we go over a few of the questions that might have saved our heroes a lot of hassle?
Question 1 – “Do you think that these children might be responsible for all the dead adults on this planet?" When you come to a place where all the adults and parents are dead, and you find a bunch of playing and laughing children who could care less, there is something wrong. Perhaps it would not be a good idea to take them to your ship full of adults. Those children are as queer as a three-dollar bill! Leave them on the planet and watch them closely. There is no need to endanger the crew by rushing to rescue ill-mannered brats.
"You do see these bodies, right, kids?"
Question 2 – “Who is letting all of these rude children into restricted areas?” There was a child in Engineering, a child roaming the halls driving crew members around like cattle, and multiple children on the bridge. These children were not invisible and were clearly in areas where visiting children should not be visiting. If Nurse Chapel was to see these children to their quarters and they end up roaming the ship, there should be disciplinary action taken against her. [To be fair, Kirk did order a security guard to watch the kids. Said guard was immediately co-opted by Tommy Starnes. Indeed, this is one of the few episodes with appropriate (though inadequate) levels of security) (ed.)]
Question 3 – “Did anyone else see that glowing intruder over there?” If anyone at all had been alerted to a translucent glowing alien on the ship, folks might have been more careful. Perhaps people might have anticipated a danger to themselves or to the “defenseless” children that were guests on the ship. How about we go to yellow alert until this uninvited alien is abducted? [None of the crew saw the gorgon until the final encounter; by the time Kirk suspected an alien on board, the crew had already been co-opted. (Ed.)]
I find all the things that occurred in this entry to completely lack credibility where this normally overly inquisitive crew is involved. Usually asking a few questions would trigger Kirk’s powers of “Kirk-sposition”, where the captain would exposit to a degree as to turn the very Oracle of Delphi green with envy with his level of accuracy. The fact that simple questions such as the ones presented above were left un-uttered, left me questioning why I failed to switch the television off. It was not good in my opinion.
One star
Give kids a chance
by Jessica Dickinson Goodman
This is my first creepy-child Star Trek episode review since having my first child last November and all of it hit so much harder than it would have a year ago. The ages of the kids, their games, their attempts to control the world around them using whatever tools consistently work, much of it reminded me of my little guy.
Which made this exchange so horrifying I nearly turned off my TV:
KIRK: They're children.
SPOCK: Captain, the four hundred and thirty men and women on board the Enterprise and the ship itself are endangered by these children.
KIRK: They don't understand the evil that they're doing.
SPOCK: Perhaps that is true, but the evil that is within them is spreading fast, and unless we can find a way to remove it
KIRK: We'll have to kill them.
Um, what? Have you no brig? Have you no tranquilizers? Have you no compassion? [Have you no stun setting on your phasers? (ed)]
The easy slip from 'they're a danger to us' to 'we must kill them' could only be made by someone without kids, or perhaps without the caregiving responsibility for them. Like many people who give birth, my kid endangered my life during his time entering this world; but I would not more kill him than kill myself. We're a dyad, he and I, less and less biologically the older he gets, but certainly still emotionally. Once one has had that experience of one body becoming two, it is difficult to look at any child and not see the halos of your own. And the cries of children? Not only do they get the milk flowing, but the tears too.
Dr. McCoy laughing in delight at the children crying was nearly as chilling to me as the horrible ways they were manipulated by this week's evil alien.
The alien way in which the children were treated made me realize how strange life on the Enterprise must be. They had no children-sized beds, no play area, no children's library or jungle gym. I wrote in the fanzine Tricorder I about what it might take for Yeoman Rand to seek an abortion using teleporter technology, but even there I had assumed in my heart that this advanced civilization could find a way to keep families intact while allowing parents to be the great explorers we all are every single day (and explainers, and shoe tie-ers, and booty wipers and tear driers…).
There are alien contact specialists on board the Enterprise—perhaps one of them might have been better qualified to talk to them than the fellow who couldn't explain the Birds and the Bees to Charlie Evans…
The fact that the Enterprise has no children is newly shocking to me. So much of the universe must be missed by excluding that unique perspective. So many potential alien diplomatic relationships must be missed when societies first encounter Star Fleet and are confronted by a uniformed crew of mostly-singletons. Of course, there is for many people everything right and nothing wrong in being single, being child free, or some mix of the same. Both are states whose partisans I wish joy to. But parents too have our own well-earned perspectives and skills, as do the children we protect and harbor and launch out into the wide, wide galaxy.
What would this episode have been like if, as Lorelei mentioned, someone had actually tried to communicate with the children: another parent or another child? The best interlocutors are sometimes the ones most closely sited by those to whom they wish to speak, and integrating this troubled and troubling group into an existing, healthy culture of children aboard a starship would have been a fascinating twist to this story. I hope one day to watch a Star Trek where both children and parents have a voice and role in the narrative, beyond guest stars and evil foils.
Three stars for threatening to kill traumatized kids who were being manipulated by an adult. No me gusta.
[Come join us tonight (October 18th) for the next thrilling episode of Star Trek! KGJ is broadcasting the show live with commercials and accompanied by trekzine readings. You won't want to miss it…]
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