The second volume of the Myriad Universes anthology did not go over as well as the first, I’m sad to say. Of the selection, there’s one story I adored, one story I enjoyed but (I suspect) for the wrong reasons, and one story that bored me to tears. I still do intend to pick up the next book, if only for the DRGIII; overall, four or five hits out of six, and only one real miss, isn’t a bad ratio.
Geoff Trowbridge, The Chimes at Midnight: Generally speaking, I dislike using the word ‘boring’ in criticism; it’s unspecific and dismissive. But it is also the best way to describe how I felt about this plodding, uninteresting and overlong semi-novelization of the TOS films; it seems like I took forever to get through this story because my mind kept wandering and I never felt any particular urge to return to the story outside mere completionism. There may be a pre-existing bias at work here, insofar that, it’s well known, I’m no fan of TOS, and I don’t think I’ve seen these films more than once or twice, depending on which one we’re talking about; so I just having these characters be there doesn’t lead me to care about them, and there’s no nostalgia value for me in revisiting these scenarios. That said, other writers have managed to get me interested in the TOS characters (most recently, Leisner’s story in the companion volume), so I don’t think I’m entirely to blame here. The characterization simply isn’t compelling, despite what seemed like good opportunities for it. Thelin’s a good example: for the supposed locus of the divergence—Thelin instead of Spock—the ‘character’ remains largely sidelined and unexplored. There are a number of moments in the story that show a forceful and complex character I would have been interested in learning more about, but for the most part he is subsumed to the rote plot. Instead, the closest thing to a main character is David Marcus, which is unfortunate because Marcus is a terribly irritating character. There’s something about him—I can’t quite define it—a certain golly-gee, Leave-It-To-Beaver-ness, a forced, artificial naiveté, which rings particularly untrue after all the traumatic events that befall him at the hands of Khan and Kruge. Every scene with Marcus—and, by association, Saavik—is just painful to read.
Plot-wise, it goes without saying from my earlier comments, I was distinctly underwhelmed; at no point did I feel involved in the story or terribly interested to find out what happens next. As mentioned, Chimes at Midnight reads like an over-extended novelization; the story takes over a hundred pages to diverge from established ‘history’ in any significant way—the death of Kirk and the ST IV’s probe un-foiled attack on Earth. Only in the last third of the novella does it actually begin to exploit its premise, and the premise of the anthology, by showing a series of events that diverge significantly from received ‘history’. Unfortunately, it exchanges one ‘history’ for another as the latter portion of the story devolves into an obvious and rather distasteful analogy with the end of the second world war—a parallel which, being so close yet never commented upon, makes the characters look ignorant. But that’s a minor trespass considering that the crew of the Enterprise—the nominal ‘heroes’—gleefully take on the role of cold-blooded killers and war criminals, deploying a weapon of mass destruction against an inhabited moon. There’s a token gesture at restitution when Thelin turns himself over to the Klingons for his crimes, but the rest of the murderers aboard the Enterprise and in the Federation’s hierarchy get off scot-free. There are many stories in these collections featuring far more vile actions and individuals, with dark and dystopian settings, but it’s the fact that this universe maintains a pretense at civility while permitting this kind of abomination that, ultimately, makes this story’s universe the most repulsive of the six.
Keith R.A. DeCandido, A Gutted World: In the grim darkness of the far future there is only WAR! What’s that? Wrong franchise? Sorry, it gets hard to tell the difference sometimes. And this story certainly seeks to drown its particular version of the Trek universe in a bubbling vat of grimdark. So what, with my stated dislike of genocide-chic in Trek, did I think of this novella? Perhaps surprisingly, I liked it. I wouldn’t say I was thrilled, but it was a fun enough read. Part of that, of course, is simply from the fact that it is a one-off exercise in taking a different approach to the setting; like the Mirror Universe, it can be enjoyed on its own merits without having to worry about consequences. But mostly, I just found it amusing. The story is so excessively dark, so hyperbolically violent, that it actually winds up being quite funny. I have no idea how much, if at all, this was an intentional effect—for all I know KRAD is reading this now wondering what kind of sick puppy found this story funny—but I was chuckling all the way through as the plot rivaled nuBSG for unrelenting negativity, combat (both spaceborne and interpersonal) approached “300”-levels of comic brutality, and named characters from both the TV series and the books are killed off with drinking-game frequency. To this is added on a “dum-dum-DUM!” epilogue that seems like the perfect melodramatic cap to the story, though clearly a sequel would be difficult considering that there are barely any characters left by the end of it. Whether deliberately or otherwise, it winds up being an effective pastiche of the grimdark fad, while also getting a few deserved jabs in at the way shows like Trek typically have things turn out for the better by going for the complete opposite end of the spectrum. The incessant stream of self-pitying pathos vomited forth from Picard’s inner monologue works like this too, wonderfully ridiculous in its excess, yet also a sly dig at the character’s tendency to be overly concerned with his own conscience.
Beyond the macro effect, this story maintains the many hallmarks that have made KRAD one of the better writers out there. I love big-canvas stories, and the author maximizes the space the novella affords by giving representative snippets from all affected portions of the Alpha Quadrant. He is able to show off an encyclopedic knowledge of the Trek universe as the story rockets across multiple locations and introduces this universe’s version of characters drawn from all parts of the franchise (however briefly they actually feature, in most cases). I liked being able to revisit these characters, including some of the ‘lower decks’ folk about the Enterprise—I think Ro got a particularly nice role out of this. However relentlessly negative the plot, it moves at a rapid clip, propelled by action and intrigue (and short chapters). There are even moments of levity which, somehow, feel completely genuine despite the direness of the characters’ situations (PAD, take notes).
Chris Roberson, Brave New World: This has to be my favourite story of the six Myriad Universes stories, and considering the strength of some of the others, particularly in the first book, that it’s saying something. Almost everything goes right for this story, from plot to character dynamics and setting to mood. I’ve made no secret that TNG is my favourite series and as an entry focused—after a fashion—on a TNG cast, perhaps I’m prejudiced, but this story captured the feel, the spirit, the vibe of TNG in a way I haven’t experienced in a goodly while (although there were glimmers of it in Q&A and Greater than the Sum). Although the setup differs from the series itself in a number of important ways, there’s a kind of amazing verisimilitude to this tale, as though watching an episode from a parallel universe where the show was still on the air. I really like the characters in this one—the story opts for a more ‘realistic’ promotion scheme insofar as the senior personnel from the series have now moved on, and the senior staff is now compromised of ‘lower deck’ characters like Ro, Wesley Crusher, Sito Jaxa, etc. It’s great to see these characters again, and functioning well in their new roles. This is particularly true of the long-vanished Wesley Crusher; the author carefully balances Cursher’s early-seasons personality, the confidence and responsibility of a veteran Starfleet officer, and the something extra of Crusher’s mental potential for a fully-rounded character. LaForge finally steps up to XO, which is well delivered. And Picard!—reading this story made me realize how much I missed this solid, reliable Picard after the degenerate version of the last few years. Calm and rational, a man driven by wonder and curiosity but also empathy and a strong sense of justice, a strategist in both combat and diplomacy. We also get some new additions to the Enterprise crew that represent the more widespread android population and neural uploads, yet the new characters fit in perfectly with the rest of the crew, easily conveying the sense that this is an experienced, friendly unit. Character dynamics are excellent; Roberson really captures the dialogic, ‘symposium in space’ feel of TNG, without neglecting the more humane elements, whether Data-like exploration of personal growth (the Crusher/Isaac dynamic nicely calls back the Data/LaForge dyad) or just good-natured ribbing between friends. This is a cast I would gladly read more adventures about, although the way the story ends makes it unlikely this setting will be revisited.
The plot takes a bit to get going, but really rocks out once it does. The theme of a large android population manages to hit several marks, creating a wonderful setting built of deep science like some of the better Christopher Bennett novels—an idea, and extrapolation, which is exciting in and of itself; however, it is also intrinsically tied into some of the ethical issues surrounding artificial intelligence which the series—by focusing on individual abnormalities like Data and the EMH—never tackled at a societal level, most notably the issue of how an artificial species reproduces. Roberson rebuffs typical depictions of artificial intelligence as a monolithic threat to individuality by presenting Turing as a world where androids are diverse in both form and opinion, using a malcontent Lore as a catalyst for inner struggle within this society. (There’s an irony, of course, in calling the planet ‘Turing’, a reference to the artificial-intelligence regulators of William Gibson’s Neuromancer, but this is just one of several Easter egg references to other sci-fi works, such as naming the Romulan commander after Taris from KotOR.) We get to see Lal again, and there’s even something of a romantic subplot between her and Wesley—something foreshadowed a bit too obviously at the beginning, but by keeping this aspect of the story understated it manages to sidestep the saccharine and actually winds up quite touching. The conflict with the Romulans eventually provides the story’s driving dynamic (although I, for one, would gladly have continued reading about Turing), and allows both the characters and their better natures to shine as Picard, Data and their allies seek to both gain the upper hand in the immediate and work to avoid war in the long term, rejecting the hostility and fear of Lore and the Romulans. Speaking to how in tune this story is with the ideals of the franchise, they do so not through conquest but convincing, not through domination but sharing. The entire story is quite uplifting in that way, and as a cherry to top the sundae, we’re allowed, in the epilogue, to glimpse the future that came out of these events, the Federation’s drive to utopia fulfilled by a transhumanist fusion of the organic and the technological. The broad-canvas issues that have always lurked behind a more tightly-confined adventure are revealed in all their glory as the Federation expands the peace brought about by conquering the fear of death to the rest of the galaxy. Individual potential is enabled by lack of want, Lore is fixed, Iconian gateways provide unparalleled mobility instead of presenting a threat—the whole thing is really wonderful.
I said earlier that almost everything goes right in this story, because there is one problematic aspect here, and that’s technique. There are a couple of turns of phrase that made me frown, some dialogue that sounded rather tin-eared, wordy bits, and the first chapter might as well be subtitled “Wherein a Great Deal of Exposition Occurs.” It’s unfortunate that these occasional infelicities draw one’s attention out of the narrative given how good the rest of the story is; but by the same token, these bumps are easily forgiven. In a way, it’s almost fitting that of all potential problems, the story should have this one; it is much like TNG itself, which was driven by grand ideas but took a while to find its narrative footing, a kind of storytelling that embraced the different kind of show it was without getting bogged down by it as well. Overall, I would welcome more entries into Trek by Chris Roberson… though, perhaps, with tighter editing.
Fictitiously yours, Trent Roman