I continue to be impressed by the S.C.E. series (or, as the title now reads, Corps of Engineers… I preferred the acronym. ‘Corps’ seems a strange word, for some reason). The stories go from strength to strength, with not a stinker amongst them, with strong plotting and characterization internally and a diversity of styles and story types from one instalment to another. The great variety of stories that can be told using these characters continues to be a highlight; in this volume alone, we have a medieval adventure, gritty war drama and Douglas Adams-style comedy. A hearty congratulations to KRAD for the keen editorial work in keeping all this consistent while still mixing things up regularly. One question, however, before going on to more specific comments; I meant to raise this with Aftermath but forgot to ask: I know you’ve criticized Data’s characterization in the past, saying that after so long in Starfleet, he should have known more about humans than he did at the beginning of TNG (something Christopher eventually explained in The Buried Age). My question is: why does it seem that Tev, also highly placed in Starfleet, is only now learning to adapt his behaviour to non-Tellerites, gaining insight into humanity thanks to Falwell at the end of Aftermath and becoming more moderate in his expression throughout this volume? You’d think he’d have learned some of that in the past, particularly at lower ranks were such antagonistic behaviour would have been ill-tolerated from a junior officer.
Ring Around the Sky by Allyn Gibson
Gasp! Somebody remembered the Furies! I was really thinking those guys had been forgotten entirely. Still, I’m glad you opted to ascribe the Ring to a previously seen civilization instead of making up a new one—it sometimes seems like the recent past of the Alpha Quadrant was just as cluttered with species as the present, and I don’t suppose they all got wiped out by Manraloth as well. It’s also always good to have a colony world of a known species instead of inventing a new one wholesale; the Trekverse isn’t just homeworlds, and colonies aren’t just human. Although I didn’t follow all of the more engineering-oriented portions of the tale, I thought the descriptions of the Ring and particularly the elevators’ base were well-crafted and communicated the awe that such a structure would inspire, and I’m generally not a reader who goes in for lengthy descriptions of landscapes and other naturalist devices in writing. I appreciate that, despite returning to a scene of past tragedy, Tev stayed in character as the rather taciturn and abrasive officer we’ve come to now rather than turning mopey or anything like that. One point that did bother me, however, was so-called Tellarite pride. The crew has to create this deception in order to convince the Kharzh’ullans to accept their plan, saying that pride wouldn’t accept an outside solution that radical. But the alternative was evacuating the planet: wouldn’t pride take far more exception to being removed from one’s home by outsiders than accepting their ideas to save one’s home? Also, along the same veins, why would Tev allow Eevraith to profit from plagiarism. Even if personal pride doesn’t strongly object to such theft, then social conscience should lead Tev to expose a man likely to become ruler as the liar that he is. Instead, Tev essentially becomes complicit in a fraud to conceal a leading politician’s thievery and ineptitude. Bad mojo there.
Orphans by Kevin Killany
An unusual kind of story for the clean and bright technological future of Trek, a descent into a medieval world of swords, arrows and mythology. This could have had the potential to come off as a very jarring story for the kind of series we’re dealing with, particularly given the somewhat vertiginous effects caused by the slippage of time and perspective in the narration, but KevinK pulls it all off admirably. It’s a story that rewards the attentive reader, immersing us in the viewpoint of a culture adapting its frame of reference to accommodate new phenomenon into a rich system of meaning and asking the reader, at first, the bridge the two worlds (at first, I thought the gnomes were Ferengi… only when the size of the natives, impossible to determine without exterior perspective, became clear did I understand it was the crew, although Pattie I recognized straight away). The culture is both alien and familiar—at least, familiar to someone who reads a goodly amount of fantasy with his sci-fi; I can’t help but wonder if a reader less used to the politics or weaponry or the genre would have been as comfortable in the setting. In any case, it was a fun bit of detective work to try and match up the various elements as seen from the natives’ perspectives with their scientific equivalents, I’m pleased to have mostly identified the source of the infant mortality early on, though I thought it was simple environmental saturation of radioactive materials and didn’t twig to the birthing pools specifically. KevinK also demonstrated an ability to craft dimensional characters one comes to care about in a very short amount of time; Ahrhi and Naiar are compelling for both their strength and their open-minded adaptability. The Klingons, too, are worthy of notice: within a single chapter, Kairn, Kortag and Langk transcend the stock characters they could easily have been and become something more fleshed, simply by surprising you with considered natures and a willingness to admit error. Kairn, of course, we see a lot more of, and quickly grows on you as somebody who is undeniably Klingon but still very much an individual with his own way of relating to the dominant cultural norms, like KRAD’s Gorkon crew. When I finished the story, it was with the wish that Kairn would be a character we might see again. What else? I was able to follow and enjoy the challenge of establishing orbit around a near-lightspeed object, as much (if not more) for the interacting between Tev and Conlon as for the idea of a cylinder-based warp engine (how much horsepower do you suppose that comes out to? Ha!). I do remember thinking when reading the story that it felt a little long here and there, though in retrospect it’s not really much longer than Ring and Failsafe… perhaps it would have been better to establish the base-four time scheme earlier on, or provide more human-based iterations of time, as I was sometimes confused by how long it had been since the last scene, particularly after they were captured; though I concede the disorientation served to capture Fabian and Pattie’s mindsets well.
Grand Designs by Dayton Ward Ampersand Kevin Dilmore
After Orphans, this story is of a much more regular kind—not that this is particularly a bad thing, mind you (before that big softie Dilmore can get in his ‘damning with faint praise’ shtick). Admittedly, the obnoxious ambassador and fanatical aliens are a bit old hat, and Marshall in particular seems to have even less depth than the alien guest stars. But the politics, and later the action, at the centre of the conflict between colony and metropole are engrossing, particularly the way each new chapter seems to reveal yet another layer to the web of deceit happening in this star system, as the intrigues of the various player—including, alarmingly, the Federation—come to light in the midst of the crisis. Soloman going ‘Die Hard’ in the station’s ducts was a fun kind of scene—I wish it had lasted longer. The ending of the story is particularly shocking. Marshall is clearly out of his mind and I hope he gets brought to trial for conspiracies that damn near triggered genocide. I’m just sorry Gold didn’t toss his callous, arrogant ass into the brig. And shame on Gomez for going along with the plan, orders or no. If she knew the orders were wrong, she should at the very least have informed Gold; it’s true that the double-command organization of the S.C.E. teams can be abused, but it’s also a safety valve: given one nutty superior, Gomez had an alternate chain of command that she could, and should have, appealed to, particularly since Marshall plan wound up putting some of the crew in danger (something very much in Gold’s purview). I’d be interested in reading a follow-up to this story, to found out how things go for the Rhaaxans and the Numai now that everything’s been exposed, and to see what repercussions befall Marshall and whoever in the Diplomatic Corps was supporting him. (For that matter, I’d be interested in reading about the trials that followed in the wake of the Ba’ku fiasco, referenced here. I’m glad Picard and Co. saw to it that it wasn’t covered-up, as would [will?] the Tezwa affair).
Failsafe by David Mack
Rack ‘em up and knock ‘em down. The master of carnage takes us on the frightening roller-coaster of near-future warfare in this well-crafted, action-packed piece. Probably the most engrossing story in the collection (and that’s saying something, given the overall quality), Failsafe was just impossible to put down once the action began to unfurl (and it do so quickly and mercilessly, all but crippling a team member just on the beam-in!). Whether it was the suspense of Carol alone and disabled amongst xenophobes, or Gomez, Stevens and Hawkins rocketing from one cluster-fuck to another, three people against an army (but using the flashy, loud and therefore fun weaponry of near-contemporary warfare while doing so), the thrill of Failsafe made anything else—including sleep—quite impossible for the duration of the story. And boy do you ever punish your characters. While I, unfortunately, already knew everybody but Hawkins would make it out from the blurbs of future instalments, I can only imagine how gripping it was to read this without that foreknowledge, given what happened in Wildfire, as every character gets up close and personal with the Reaper. Gomez’ near death experience is probably the low-point, coming off as rather typical and forced in terms of character development, but it’s only a blip on the radar, really. Overt moralizing on the brutality of war is absent for the good reason that it would be redundant: the entire story is an indictment of warfare, from child soldiers and common grunts thrown into the meat grinder to concentration camps, the slaughter of civilians and refugee trains. Failsafe packs an immense amount of show in the space allotted, and one comes out of it feeling as though you’ve just spent the last two hours watching the first fifteen minutes of “Saving Private Ryan” on a continuous loop. And, remarkably, you still find a number of humorous moments in the midst of the chaos (I’ve always thought it a strength of the S.C.E. that a lot of the characters are funny, whether the circumstances call for it or not). I was wondering what, if any specific, conflict inspired you the most when writing this story? Although the mobility of the soldiers on the more advanced side doesn’t resemble trench warfare in the least, I got a WWI vibe from the story, from the nebulous causes for the war to the casual disregard of the commanders for their own troops, let alone the civilians caught in the storm. Interesting to think how little things—like the assassination of an aristocrat in some obscure backwater, or a malfunctioning probe—can explode into such bedlam bloodshed.
Bitter Medicine by Dave Galanter
This was probably my least favourite of the bunch, although that’s not a slam against the story per se because I think all the stories, including this one, were quite strong. The story was well written, the characterization down pat… I just didn’t manage to connect with the emotional angst at the center of the drama. Maybe it’s because Lense has never been a favourite character, or maybe I just lack empathy, but while I could appreciate the craftsmanship in building up the relationship between Lense and the little boy, the tragedy of his situation and Lense’s heart-wrenching realization that she wouldn’t be able to save him, not in the way she’d hoped for… there was a disconnect between the words on the page and what I felt as a reader. Oh well. Can’t win them all. Also, some of the medical jargon was a bit heavy; I found myself glossing over a number of passages because, honestly, I didn’t think the terminology was sufficiently introduced for a lay person. On the plus side, I enjoyed the interaction between Lense and Gold, which felt more ‘real’ despite (or because of?) being understated. I think the ending, whatever else I thought of the story, does convey a good deal of pathos, with a sad, touching moment when the boy turns on the Lense hologram to keep him company. I must say, however, that I’m surprised at the lack of security contingencies around the boy. His virus is so virulent, and jumps species with such ease, that he’s essentially a walking biological weapon, one that could easily abused by the callous and the fanatical. The story doesn’t give much thought to such concerns, at least not on the page. I know if it were me, I’d have had the ship towed somewhere closer to home were I could keep an eye on it and make sure nobody, accidentally or intentionally, gets at the virus (like hidden inside an asteroid or something). I know the point of the story was the relationship and character development and not a security threat, but it still felt like there was something missing there.
Sargasso Sector by Paul Kupperberg
It’s DaVinci vs. Heart of Gold in the comedy piece of the collection. The author delivers a wonderfully off-beat, absurdist take on the S.C.E. tradition of deciphering/fixing weird alien devices. I’ve always said that good comedy is harder to do in writing than most anything else, so kudos to the author for managing to sustain the freshness and originality of the ‘odd occurrences’ across the story, coming up with new oddities and giving, at the same time, a sense of the dangerous, practical consequences that a disruption of probability would entail. Probably my biggest problem is with the setup; if there are, indeed, millions of ships from across millions of years in this Sargasso Sector, then logically it ought to be a site of intense activity even before anybody decides to do some emergency archaeology in order to clear the space lanes (which is sort of like a hyperspace bypass, I suppose) as various civilization scrounge through the debris looking for advanced alien tech to seize. The idea of such a repository of technology and knowledge being so casually overlooked—now that’s improbable.
Fictitiously yours, Trent Roman
Ring Around the Sky by Allyn Gibson
Gasp! Somebody remembered the Furies! I was really thinking those guys had been forgotten entirely. Still, I’m glad you opted to ascribe the Ring to a previously seen civilization instead of making up a new one—it sometimes seems like the recent past of the Alpha Quadrant was just as cluttered with species as the present, and I don’t suppose they all got wiped out by Manraloth as well. It’s also always good to have a colony world of a known species instead of inventing a new one wholesale; the Trekverse isn’t just homeworlds, and colonies aren’t just human. Although I didn’t follow all of the more engineering-oriented portions of the tale, I thought the descriptions of the Ring and particularly the elevators’ base were well-crafted and communicated the awe that such a structure would inspire, and I’m generally not a reader who goes in for lengthy descriptions of landscapes and other naturalist devices in writing. I appreciate that, despite returning to a scene of past tragedy, Tev stayed in character as the rather taciturn and abrasive officer we’ve come to now rather than turning mopey or anything like that. One point that did bother me, however, was so-called Tellarite pride. The crew has to create this deception in order to convince the Kharzh’ullans to accept their plan, saying that pride wouldn’t accept an outside solution that radical. But the alternative was evacuating the planet: wouldn’t pride take far more exception to being removed from one’s home by outsiders than accepting their ideas to save one’s home? Also, along the same veins, why would Tev allow Eevraith to profit from plagiarism. Even if personal pride doesn’t strongly object to such theft, then social conscience should lead Tev to expose a man likely to become ruler as the liar that he is. Instead, Tev essentially becomes complicit in a fraud to conceal a leading politician’s thievery and ineptitude. Bad mojo there.
Orphans by Kevin Killany
An unusual kind of story for the clean and bright technological future of Trek, a descent into a medieval world of swords, arrows and mythology. This could have had the potential to come off as a very jarring story for the kind of series we’re dealing with, particularly given the somewhat vertiginous effects caused by the slippage of time and perspective in the narration, but KevinK pulls it all off admirably. It’s a story that rewards the attentive reader, immersing us in the viewpoint of a culture adapting its frame of reference to accommodate new phenomenon into a rich system of meaning and asking the reader, at first, the bridge the two worlds (at first, I thought the gnomes were Ferengi… only when the size of the natives, impossible to determine without exterior perspective, became clear did I understand it was the crew, although Pattie I recognized straight away). The culture is both alien and familiar—at least, familiar to someone who reads a goodly amount of fantasy with his sci-fi; I can’t help but wonder if a reader less used to the politics or weaponry or the genre would have been as comfortable in the setting. In any case, it was a fun bit of detective work to try and match up the various elements as seen from the natives’ perspectives with their scientific equivalents, I’m pleased to have mostly identified the source of the infant mortality early on, though I thought it was simple environmental saturation of radioactive materials and didn’t twig to the birthing pools specifically. KevinK also demonstrated an ability to craft dimensional characters one comes to care about in a very short amount of time; Ahrhi and Naiar are compelling for both their strength and their open-minded adaptability. The Klingons, too, are worthy of notice: within a single chapter, Kairn, Kortag and Langk transcend the stock characters they could easily have been and become something more fleshed, simply by surprising you with considered natures and a willingness to admit error. Kairn, of course, we see a lot more of, and quickly grows on you as somebody who is undeniably Klingon but still very much an individual with his own way of relating to the dominant cultural norms, like KRAD’s Gorkon crew. When I finished the story, it was with the wish that Kairn would be a character we might see again. What else? I was able to follow and enjoy the challenge of establishing orbit around a near-lightspeed object, as much (if not more) for the interacting between Tev and Conlon as for the idea of a cylinder-based warp engine (how much horsepower do you suppose that comes out to? Ha!). I do remember thinking when reading the story that it felt a little long here and there, though in retrospect it’s not really much longer than Ring and Failsafe… perhaps it would have been better to establish the base-four time scheme earlier on, or provide more human-based iterations of time, as I was sometimes confused by how long it had been since the last scene, particularly after they were captured; though I concede the disorientation served to capture Fabian and Pattie’s mindsets well.
Grand Designs by Dayton Ward Ampersand Kevin Dilmore
After Orphans, this story is of a much more regular kind—not that this is particularly a bad thing, mind you (before that big softie Dilmore can get in his ‘damning with faint praise’ shtick). Admittedly, the obnoxious ambassador and fanatical aliens are a bit old hat, and Marshall in particular seems to have even less depth than the alien guest stars. But the politics, and later the action, at the centre of the conflict between colony and metropole are engrossing, particularly the way each new chapter seems to reveal yet another layer to the web of deceit happening in this star system, as the intrigues of the various player—including, alarmingly, the Federation—come to light in the midst of the crisis. Soloman going ‘Die Hard’ in the station’s ducts was a fun kind of scene—I wish it had lasted longer. The ending of the story is particularly shocking. Marshall is clearly out of his mind and I hope he gets brought to trial for conspiracies that damn near triggered genocide. I’m just sorry Gold didn’t toss his callous, arrogant ass into the brig. And shame on Gomez for going along with the plan, orders or no. If she knew the orders were wrong, she should at the very least have informed Gold; it’s true that the double-command organization of the S.C.E. teams can be abused, but it’s also a safety valve: given one nutty superior, Gomez had an alternate chain of command that she could, and should have, appealed to, particularly since Marshall plan wound up putting some of the crew in danger (something very much in Gold’s purview). I’d be interested in reading a follow-up to this story, to found out how things go for the Rhaaxans and the Numai now that everything’s been exposed, and to see what repercussions befall Marshall and whoever in the Diplomatic Corps was supporting him. (For that matter, I’d be interested in reading about the trials that followed in the wake of the Ba’ku fiasco, referenced here. I’m glad Picard and Co. saw to it that it wasn’t covered-up, as would [will?] the Tezwa affair).
Failsafe by David Mack
Rack ‘em up and knock ‘em down. The master of carnage takes us on the frightening roller-coaster of near-future warfare in this well-crafted, action-packed piece. Probably the most engrossing story in the collection (and that’s saying something, given the overall quality), Failsafe was just impossible to put down once the action began to unfurl (and it do so quickly and mercilessly, all but crippling a team member just on the beam-in!). Whether it was the suspense of Carol alone and disabled amongst xenophobes, or Gomez, Stevens and Hawkins rocketing from one cluster-fuck to another, three people against an army (but using the flashy, loud and therefore fun weaponry of near-contemporary warfare while doing so), the thrill of Failsafe made anything else—including sleep—quite impossible for the duration of the story. And boy do you ever punish your characters. While I, unfortunately, already knew everybody but Hawkins would make it out from the blurbs of future instalments, I can only imagine how gripping it was to read this without that foreknowledge, given what happened in Wildfire, as every character gets up close and personal with the Reaper. Gomez’ near death experience is probably the low-point, coming off as rather typical and forced in terms of character development, but it’s only a blip on the radar, really. Overt moralizing on the brutality of war is absent for the good reason that it would be redundant: the entire story is an indictment of warfare, from child soldiers and common grunts thrown into the meat grinder to concentration camps, the slaughter of civilians and refugee trains. Failsafe packs an immense amount of show in the space allotted, and one comes out of it feeling as though you’ve just spent the last two hours watching the first fifteen minutes of “Saving Private Ryan” on a continuous loop. And, remarkably, you still find a number of humorous moments in the midst of the chaos (I’ve always thought it a strength of the S.C.E. that a lot of the characters are funny, whether the circumstances call for it or not). I was wondering what, if any specific, conflict inspired you the most when writing this story? Although the mobility of the soldiers on the more advanced side doesn’t resemble trench warfare in the least, I got a WWI vibe from the story, from the nebulous causes for the war to the casual disregard of the commanders for their own troops, let alone the civilians caught in the storm. Interesting to think how little things—like the assassination of an aristocrat in some obscure backwater, or a malfunctioning probe—can explode into such bedlam bloodshed.
Bitter Medicine by Dave Galanter
This was probably my least favourite of the bunch, although that’s not a slam against the story per se because I think all the stories, including this one, were quite strong. The story was well written, the characterization down pat… I just didn’t manage to connect with the emotional angst at the center of the drama. Maybe it’s because Lense has never been a favourite character, or maybe I just lack empathy, but while I could appreciate the craftsmanship in building up the relationship between Lense and the little boy, the tragedy of his situation and Lense’s heart-wrenching realization that she wouldn’t be able to save him, not in the way she’d hoped for… there was a disconnect between the words on the page and what I felt as a reader. Oh well. Can’t win them all. Also, some of the medical jargon was a bit heavy; I found myself glossing over a number of passages because, honestly, I didn’t think the terminology was sufficiently introduced for a lay person. On the plus side, I enjoyed the interaction between Lense and Gold, which felt more ‘real’ despite (or because of?) being understated. I think the ending, whatever else I thought of the story, does convey a good deal of pathos, with a sad, touching moment when the boy turns on the Lense hologram to keep him company. I must say, however, that I’m surprised at the lack of security contingencies around the boy. His virus is so virulent, and jumps species with such ease, that he’s essentially a walking biological weapon, one that could easily abused by the callous and the fanatical. The story doesn’t give much thought to such concerns, at least not on the page. I know if it were me, I’d have had the ship towed somewhere closer to home were I could keep an eye on it and make sure nobody, accidentally or intentionally, gets at the virus (like hidden inside an asteroid or something). I know the point of the story was the relationship and character development and not a security threat, but it still felt like there was something missing there.
Sargasso Sector by Paul Kupperberg
It’s DaVinci vs. Heart of Gold in the comedy piece of the collection. The author delivers a wonderfully off-beat, absurdist take on the S.C.E. tradition of deciphering/fixing weird alien devices. I’ve always said that good comedy is harder to do in writing than most anything else, so kudos to the author for managing to sustain the freshness and originality of the ‘odd occurrences’ across the story, coming up with new oddities and giving, at the same time, a sense of the dangerous, practical consequences that a disruption of probability would entail. Probably my biggest problem is with the setup; if there are, indeed, millions of ships from across millions of years in this Sargasso Sector, then logically it ought to be a site of intense activity even before anybody decides to do some emergency archaeology in order to clear the space lanes (which is sort of like a hyperspace bypass, I suppose) as various civilization scrounge through the debris looking for advanced alien tech to seize. The idea of such a repository of technology and knowledge being so casually overlooked—now that’s improbable.
Fictitiously yours, Trent Roman
The feeling was mutual. I came up with this whole theory of Tellarite psychology, that Tev's perceived rudeness and arrogance is part of a culture that places a premium on honesty and sees tact and humility as shameful forms of deception. My Tev was someone who wasn't intrinsically flawed or screwed up, but who was highly capable and professional and behaviorally proper by his own culture's lights, and who got on other people's nerves because of it. Meanwhile, you were working from a rather different theory, not only of Tev, but of Tellarites as a whole.
