Fixing the Prequels: Revenge of the Sith (part two)

part one

When last we left our intrepid Jedi – months and months ago – they they had just made their way through an immense space battle to land on General Grievous’s ship, through which they must now make their way to find the captive Chancellor Palpatine. This is pretty standard “infiltrate the enemy ship” stuff, but it’s all pretty fun to watch anyway, because Ewan McGregor and Hayden Christensen actually have pretty good chemistry together. In this whole sequence, I like how Christensen portrays Anakin as more self-assured, more confident, but less obviously-arrogant than he had been in Attack of the Clones. The effect goes a long way to highlight the tragedy of Anakin’s later fall from grace.

(Before I go on, I should note the very long stall in this series of posts, with an apology for those who actually enjoy reading this stuff. My reasons are the usual whiny “Nobody knows I’m doing this, but that Red Letter Media turd gets all kinds of love whenever he speaks!” stuff. So let’s just stipulate all that and move on, shall we? OK!)

R2-D2 is another part of the puzzle here, and he has his own problems. He is trying to lie low when a couple of battle droids enter the landing bay, but his efforts are stymied by the fact that Obi Wan keeps talking to him, very loudly, via the commlink. Thus R2 is distracted at several points where Obi Wan and Anakin would find having a droid plugged into the computer system fairly convenient.

All of this is pretty standard Star Wars derring-do as Obi Wan and Anakin make their way to the observation deck where they suspect Palpatine is being helped. I find it all a lot of fun to watch, and it could have been even longer, what with some deleted scenes from this sequence that are available on the DVD. In one scene, our two Jedi heroes wind up in the ship’s giant fuel pipes; in another, they are surrounded by droids and communicate with one another with baseball-coach type hand signals. These scenes are fun to watch, and I’m glad they’re on the DVD, but I don’t think they would have added much to the proceedings except for some fun action material. This entire sequence of the film takes an impressive bit of time, though, which is probably a good chunk of why it needed trimming.

Here again, by the way, we see R2 using his rockets that AOTC revealed, and yet another new gizmo: R2 has a supply of oil which he’s able to squirt on the battle droids and all over the ground before setting it on fire. As usual, a lot of Star Wars fans complained about this, but also as usual, I’m fine with it. For one thing, I rather like what is now something of a gag, which is that each time there’s a new Star Wars movie, we see something else that R2 can do. And what’s also nice is that really, none of these particular abilities is particularly outlandish given what an R2 unit essentially is: a robotic space mechanic. You know how, within reason and given the right set of attachments, you can do pretty much anything with a Dremel rotary tool or Multi-Max? Well, that’s what R2 is: a big, intelligent, Dremel tool. (Hmmmm…Dremel’s colors are blue and silver, not unlike a certain droid…hmmmm….)

The other thing that stands out in this entire sequence, once we land on the ship, is that there’s no music at all. We have music and all manner of sound effects when Obi Wan and Anakin are flying their ships through the space battle, but once we’re on General Grievous’s cruiser itself, there is no music at all: just ambient sounds of machines and distant explosions and wind in the elevator shafts and so on.

Our two Jedi reach the observation deck and find Palpatine there, restrained to a chair that looks a lot like the throne he will later use in Return of the Jedi. The room is bounded on all sides by giant windows that are overlooking the space battle. Now Dooku enters, and after a bit of preliminary boasting, the lightsaber battle begins:

OBI-WAN: (bows) Chancellor.

ANAKIN: Are you all right?

PALPATINE: (quietly) Count Dooku.

PALPATINE makes a small gesture with his hand. OBI-WAN and ANAKIN turn around. The elevator DOORS CAN BE HEARD OPENING AND CLOSING as COUNT DOOKU strides into the room. He is above the Jedi, standing on a balcony, with two SUPER BATTLE DROIDS. The Jedi turn to see him. He looks down on the Jedi. 

OBI-WAN: (quietly to Anakin) This time we will do it together.

ANAKIN: I was about to say that.

COUNT DOOKU jumps down to the main level. 

PALPATINE: Get help! You’re no match for him. He’s a Sith Lord.

OBI-WAN: Chancellor Palpatine, Sith Lords are our specialty.

OBI-WAN and ANAKIN throw off their cloaks and ignite their lightsabers. 

COUNT DOOKU: Your swords, please, Master Jedi. We don’t want to make a mess of things in front of the Chancellor.

OBI-WAN and ANAKIN move toward DOOKU.

OBI-WAN: You won’t get away this time, Dooku.

OBI-WAN and ANAKIN charge COUNT DOOKU. A great sword fight ensues.

COUNT DOOKU: I’ve been looking forward to this.

ANAKIN: My powers have doubled since the last time we met, Count.

COUNT DOOKU: Good. Twice the pride, double the fall. 

I really like this scene…all of it. Especially the little reference to their last confrontation with Dooku, at the end of AOTC, when Anakin decided to charge in by himself and got tossed aside for his trouble. They lost that duel because they didn’t work together; this time, Anakin is willing to wait. But he hasn’t grown up too much; he is still willing to boast about the growth of his powers.

What happens next is something of a pitched duel in which it still seems that Dooku is their better; he again manages to toss Anakin aside, and then he again incapacitates Obi Wan. But this time, Anakin is much stronger and holds his own…only merely that, until Dooku says something else:

COUNT DOOKU: (continuing) I sense great fear in you, Skywalker. You have hate, you have anger, but you don’t use them.

This goading of Anakin proves ill-advised for Dooku, as he immediately uses his hate and his anger. A minute later, he cuts off Dooku’s hands and takes his saber, now holding two blades at the neck of the helpless Count. He knows that a Jedi is probably supposed to be merciful in such a situation, but Palpatine, laughing, tells Anakin: “Kill him. Kill him now.”

This is a deeply chilling moment. Palpatine’s warmth – feigned though we know it was in the previous two films – disappears instantly as Palpatine says “Kill him.” And when Anakin hesitates, Palpatine allows his coldest, harshest tone to come forth: “Do it.”

And Anakin does. Right there, with Palpatine looking on and with Dooku’s eyes wide as he realizes he’s just been betrayed, Anakin beheads the helpless Count.

Now this dialogue:

PALPATINE: You did well, Anakin. He was too dangerous to be kept alive.

ANAKIN drops COUNT DOOKU’s lightsaber, moving to PALPATINE. 

ANAKIN: Yes, but he was an unarmed prisoner.

ANAKIN raises his hands toward PALPATINE, who is strapped in the Admiral’s Chair. The Chancellor’s restraints pop loose. 

ANAKIN: (continuing) I shouldn’t have done that, Chancellor. It’s not the Jedi way.

PALPATINE stands up, rubbing his wrists. 

PALPATINE: It is only natural. He cut off your arm, and you wanted revenge. It wasn’t the first time, Anakin. Remember what you told me about your mother and the Sand People. Now, we must leave before more security droids arrive. 

Something interesting happens here, something easy to miss. As noted, this scene takes place in an enormous observation room with giant windows on all sides, so that during the entire lightsaber duel, we can see the space battle raging in the sky beyond; and occasionally, we hear the sounds of ships as they fly by very close to the windows. At the moment that Palpatine refers to Anakin’s mother’s fate at the hands of the Sandpeople, there is a sound that could very well be a ship in space outside*, or it could be the cry of one of the Sandpeople. It’s a little aural reminder of what has gone before…and Palpatine is already starting to lay the groundwork for Anakin’s temptation to the Dark Side of the Force.

But what’s really interesting is that Palpatine allows Dooku to start that particular ball rolling, with his line about Anakin having hate, anger, but not using them. I always wonder…has Palpatine already decided to start working on Anakin’s conversion? Or has he just now realized the potential of what he has in Anakin?

In AOTC, Palpatine manipulated the Jedi Council to assign Obi Wan and Anakin to the protection of Padme following the assassination attempt. Was he doing that with the intent of pushing Anakin’s emotions to the fore, with temptation in mind, or was he simply working to sow seeds of dissent and distrust within the Jedi order? I might lean to the latter, except that we know that Palpatine has made good on his word to young Anakin from the end of TPM (“We will watch your career with great interest.”). It’s significant that Anakin has shared the dark secret of what happened to his mother – and what he did after that – with Palpatine.

As this scene ends, Anakin picks up the incapacitated Obi Wan and slings him over his shoulder, over Palpatine’s objections that they don’t have time to dally over him. “His fate will be our own,” says Anakin, and they start making their way back down to the landing bay.

Of course, this is a Star Wars film, so they don’t get there. They encounter some more trouble with elevators, this time when the cruiser they are on takes heavy fire and starts to aim straight down toward the planet, throwing off the perspective. Anakin and Palpatine enter an elevator shaft and start running down the walls, which are now the floors, since the ship is dropping straight down. But then the bridge crew gets things under control again, causing the ship to level back out again…which means that the walls of the elevator shaft are now walls again. Needless to say, they get out of this predicament, just as Obi Wan wakes back up; then they are back in a deserted corridor and trying to get back to the landing bay when they are imprisoned by something called “ray shields”. After Obi Wan protests “How did this happen? We’re smarter than this!”, Anakin suggests that they just patiently wait for R2D2 to come along and release them. Obi Wan is surprised that Anakin is suggesting patience, but the plan goes awry when R2 does, in fact, arrive…with a whole bunch of warrior droids with him. “Do you have a plan B?” Obi Wan asks…and that’s where I’ll stop for this time.

If it seems like I haven’t done much ‘fixing’ in a series called ‘Fixing the Prequels’, well, it’s generally because I think that the entire opening sequence of RotS is as masterfully done as anything in the entire Star Wars saga. There’s just nothing to fix here, but a lot to admire. Don’t worry, though; we’ll start fixing stuff next time out. In that installment we will deal with General Grievous, reunite two young lovers, and start to get hints of Darth Sidious’s plan to lower the shroud of the Dark Side over everything. Tune in! (And it won’t take the better part of a year to get there, either.)

* I know, I know, “Sound can’t travel in space”. For the purposes of Star Wars…actually, for most filmed SF in general…I just don’t care.

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Onward and Upward!


Onward and Upward!, originally uploaded by Jaquandor.

I haven’t updated my progress on Princesses In SPACE!!! (not the actual title) in a while, so here’s where things stand. In the two months since my last word count update here, I’ve produced an additional 21,000 words, which is a nice total. That’s a bit off the pace of 500 words a day that I’ve been trying to maintain, but there were extenuating circumstances. (Sigh…aren’t there always?)

First, of course, the last update came a couple weeks before Thanksgiving, so I had to get through the Holiday season, with all its distractions and demands on time, which all conspired to produce more days where I didn’t produce a single word than I would have liked.

More demanding, however, was my realization a few weeks back that I needed to do some backtracking. I don’t like to backtrack or edit as I go; it’s my firm belief that “This way, madness lies”. I’m the kind of person who can get totally bogged down in my own editing, and I could lose myself in trying to make fifty or a hundred pages totally perfect in favor of getting the story told. And even with this bit of revision work, I really had to discipline myself to not get sucked into too much sentence-fixing.

So why the revision? As I noted at the time, I came to realize that a part of my backstory wasn’t as solid as it could have been, which meant that there were times when certain characters’ actions felt forced and contrived instead of something a person might actually do in that particular circumstance. So I had to suspend “forward progress” and retreat a bit into the narrative, doing some fixing work and strengthening some things and removing others.

Now, there are things that I know will have to be changed when I go back and do the real editing, and in most cases I just make a notation in a file I helpfully call “Notations for editing”, to which I will refer when I go back to fix things. In a lot of cases I can just set the changes in my mind and write from a certain point as if the changes are in effect. But this time, the changes were too involved to do that. I had to backtrack.

And now I’m done backtracking, with the helpful side effect that this work has helped the rest of the story crystallize in my brain a bit. That’s a very welcome development!

So at this point, I’m just about ready to start the final third of the book. Allegiances are revealed! Traitors are unmasked! Loves are declared! Spaceships are flown! Princesses are rescued and do some rescuing! And the Universe will never be the same! Until next time…Excelsior!!!

(So, how was my Stan Lee impersonation?)

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Shiny in the Black: A “Firefly” Christmas (conclusion)

Continuing my fanfic exercise in what a Christmas-themed episode of Firefly might have been like.
part one
part two
part three

“Those aren’t toys,” Kaylee said. “Those are agricultural supplies for a new colony. Did you change the job while you were out?”

“Seal it back up,” Mal said. “That stuff is perishable, and by breaking the seal, we’ve started the decay process.”

The crew stood around, staring at the crate that was supposed to contain toys for the children of the orphanage on Haven but really contained farming seed and fertilizer that had supposedly been destined for Whitefall. Jayne and Book lifted the facing of the crate back into place and restored the seals. When they were done, Jayne stepped back and looked at Mal.

“Well, Mal, guess we got ourselves another hiccup.”

“Yeah, looks that way.” Mal muttered another curse in Chinese and then he kicked the crate for good measure.

“That won’t hurt the crate,” River said.

“It will hurt your foot if you do that again, though,” Simon said.

“So, what now?” Jayne said. “That’s it then, isn’t it?”

“I don’t know,” Mal said. “I’m thinkin’.”

Zoe cleared her throat. “Captain, you know Jonas better than any of us. How likely is he to hold this against us?”

“Worried about us having another enemy?”

“I’m running out of space on the piece of paper where I keep their names written down, sir.”

“Yeah. Preacher, how did this happen?”

“I have no idea, Captain,” said Book. “I double-checked the numbers. We had the right slot number in the warehouse. The only way this happens is if the warehouse workers put the crates in the wrong slots themselves.”

And with that, a silence settled over the crew as they realized what had happened.

“Well, this is new,” said Jayne. “Never stolen the wrong goods before.”

“Yeah, this is definitely a wrinkle we haven’t tried before,” said Mal. “All right, I’m open to suggestions.”

“Suggestions for what?” It was Wash, who had just come down from the bridge. “Everyone’s looking awfully glum here.”

“We stole the wrong goods, honey,” Zoe said.

“Now there‘s something we haven’t done before!” Wash said. “Now what?”

“See?” Mal said. “Took him all of two sentences to get up to speed on this.”

“What do we do?” Kaylee asked. “Captain?”

“Maybe the children want to play as farmers,” River offered. “They can grow their own vegetables and work the soil.”

“River,” Book said, “the orphanage is in the middle of a city that’s a hundred miles in diameter. There’s no soil except what’s in the decorative flower pots.”

“That sounds depressing,” River said. “Children need space.”

“Well, we can’t solve every problem at once,” Zoe said. “Captain, Jonas is gonna know that he can’t open the crate without breaching the shelf-life of the goods that he thinks are in there.”

“I was thinking the same thing,” Mal said. “If that’s the case, then Jonas has no idea that he’s got a crate full of toys on his ship. Which means that he’s on his way to Whitefall. He won’t know anything is wrong until Patience does. Of course, knowing Patience, she’ll have already tried to shoot him.”

“So that’s it then,” said Jayne. “We ain’t gotta do a gorram thing. Let them shoot each other and then we can sell this stuff to whoever takes over for Patience. Make back our coin, and then some.”

Mal considered this. After a moment, Shepherd Book stepped forward.

“Captain, I know that your ship is not a democracy, but I must voice my opposition to what Jayne has suggested.”

“Yeah, I thought you might,” Mal said. “Wash, go get us on a course for Whitefall. Get us there fast. We want to get there before the shooting starts.”

“You got it,” Wash said as he headed back up the stairs. “A pilot’s job is never done! Until he lands, then he’s done until the next job….”

“Zoe,” Mal said, “I’m gonna need your help figurin’ out how to approach this one. We’ve got to make a switch without both Jonas and Patience deciding that I’m cheating them.”

“Sounds like a challenge,” Zoe said.

“Why I’m givin’ it to you.”

“Wait a minute!” Jayne said. “We’re gonna try to get the toys back? Anybody else think that’s crazy?”

Simon shrugged. “I think it’s kind of shiny,” he said. Kaylee grinned at him.

“Doc, I’m gonna do somethin’ hurtful to you someday soon,” Jayne said. “Mal, how can you even consider this?”

Mal looked at Shepherd Book. “I took a job,” he said. “And even though the job’s starting to bring some trouble, truth is, that’s what jobs do. And there ain’t a job in the ‘Verse that I’m like to walk away from once I take it.”

Jayne shook his head. “I can’t ruttin’ believe this.”

“Hey, look at the bright side,” Mal said. “We’re goin’ to Whitefall to try and do business with Patience.”

“Probably be some shooting,” Zoe added.

Jayne laughed harshly. “Day’s gonna come when you’re not gonna be able to buy me off by lettin’ me shoot some folk,” he said.

Mal considered that. “Well, that’s gonna be an interesting day. Come on, Zoe. We need to brainstorm.”

***

It took them the better part of a day to get to Whitefall, which was a pretty miserable and dusty rock way out on the fringes. Malcolm Reynolds didn’t much like this world; it was run by a crusty woman named Patience who didn’t tend to practice any, and who had a nasty habit of trying to shoot him. She’d succeeded once, but the last time, Mal had got the better of her. He’d done the job, and despite some unkind words as regarding his character, he’d gotten paid. But this one was going to be tricky, no doubt about that.

“OK, Mal, we’re here,” Wash said as Whitefall loomed before the ship. “Now what?”

“Well, Patience is a woman of habit,” Mal said. “So I’m thinkin’ she’ll want to meet with Jonas in that same spot she chose to meet us in last time we were here. Good spot for an ambush. So we’ll go there and hope we’re in time to avoid some fisticuffs and general tomfoolery.”

Zoe looked at Mal. “‘Tomfoolery’, sir?”

“What? You know I like to dust off archaic words now and then.”

“Part of what makes you charming, sir.”

“Thanks for sayin’. Now, if I’m Patience, I’m puttin’ two snipers in the hills around that meeting spot, after we took care of the one she ahd there last time. And Jonas is gonna have his own sniper up there somewhere too. So Jayne and the Shepherd will take care of the snipers for us, and then we walk in and make everybody happy.”

“Aren’t we doin’ an awful lot of counting on the Shepherd to shoot people on this job?” Zoe asked.

“Probably, but that book of his is nonspecific as regards kneecaps and elbows, if I remember right. Wash, same landing spot as before.”

“Sure thing, Mal,” Wash said. “And I’ve got Jonas’s ship on the scanner now. They’re landing as we speak, two hilltops over. Looks like we got here in time.”

“It’s a Christmas miracle, Captain,” Zoe said.

Mal rolled his eyes. “Now don’t you start,” he said. “Let’s go get ready. Wash, put her down.”

“Sure thing, Captain,” Wash said.

Mal and Zoe walked down to the hold, where Jayne and Shepherd Book were waiting.

“Captain,” Book began, “I feel I should apologize for having gotten you into this business.”

“Did it with my eyes open,” Mal said. “But if you’re volunteering for a month of mess duty, I don’t think I’ll hear any objections from the rest of the crew.” He glanced around at Kaylee, Simon, River, and Inara, who all just stood there placidly. “And a month it is! All right, Zoe and me have come up with what we think is a nicely nuanced plan.”

Jayne grunted. “Book and I take out the snipers and cover you while you and Zoe try to talk some sense into Patience and Jonas?”

“Yeah, that’s about it.”

“We gotta start comin’ up with plans that don’t have quite as much ‘if’ in ’em,” Jayne grumbled.

“Every time I ask you for input, your first words are ‘I shoot them’.”

“Yeah. Not a lot of ‘if’ when the other guy’s got bullets in him.”

“OK. Get that crate ready. And Kaylee, keep the engines warm. We may need to make a fast break for it.”

“Be easier if you’d let me replace that drive inducer that I keep warning you about,” Kaylee said.

“New year’s comin’,” said Mal.

***

The scene that confronted Mal and Zoe when they peered over the edge of the knoll above Patience’s rendezvous spot was about what Mal expected: Patience sat atop her horse, while her men had Jonas at gunpoint, and Jonas’s men had Patience’s men at gunpoint. Everybody had everybody else at gunpoint.

“Whole lot of gunpoint,” Mal muttered.

“Not too late to find a desk job, Captain,” Zoe replied.

“More of us than there are of you, Jonas,” Patience said. “And I’ve got a sniper aimin’ at you right now. You’re not walkin’ away.”

“I got a man took out your sniper,” Jonas replied. “I’m not stupid, Patience. And my men are better shots than yours. Now how about you toss me the coin and we’ll be on our way?”

“All I see here is a big crate,” Patience said. “You might as well open her up and let us see the goods.”

“Suits me fine,” said Jonas. “Randy? Open it.”

Keeping his hands visible at all times, Randy popped open the crate and swung it open. “Uh, Captain?” he said.

“This some kind of joke, Jonas?” Patience asked. “That don’t look like seed and fertilizer to me.”

“What?” Jonas turned to Randy. “What is she gorram talking about?”

“This crate, sir,” Randy said. “It’s full of…toys.”

“Toys?”

“Toys, sir.”

Toys?!

“This some kind of joke, Jonas?” Patience sounded annoyed. “So you’re gonna dump fake goods on me after you have my money?”

Jonas looked uncomfortable.

“Do we go down now?” Zoe asked.

“Shhhh,” Mal said. “Things haven’t gone south enough yet.”

“Patience,” Jonas said. “Uhhhh….”

“I’d like to hear an explanation,” Patience said. “Before I shoot you myself.” She pulled out her pistol.

“Malcolm Reynolds cheated me!” Jonas said.

“Reynolds?” Patience’s eyebrows went up. “What’s he got to do with this?”

“Funny you should ask!” Mal called out as he rose up and sauntered over the knoll, his pistol in his hand but not aimed at anything. Zoe came behind him, her shotgun in her hand as well.

“Reynolds!” shouted both Patience and Jonas at the same time. Both also pointed their pistols at him, at the same time.

“Well there we go,” Mal said. “Two criminals suddenly united in purpose. Warms the heart, eh, Zoe?”

“Sure does, sir.”

“Mal, I’ll shoot you where you stand,” Patience said.

“And I’ll shoot you again before you hit the ground,” Jonas said.

“Sure,” Mal said. “But then you wouldn’t hear the explanation and my counter-proposal.”

“Explanation?” Jonas roared. “You switched the crates and took the good stuff! What were you going to do, let me get shot and then sell Patience the real goods?”

Mal thought. “Huh. Zoe, that might have worked.”

“Surprised you didn’t think of it, sir.”

“I gotta be goin’ soft in my old age.”

“Happens to the best of us, sir.”

“Jonas, we didn’t switch a gorram thing. The warehouse workers screwed up. Those crates were in the wrong spots. We took what we thought was our crate, but it was really yours. And you got ours, thinkin’ it was really yours. Kind of an irony, ain’t it?”

Patience rolled her eyes. “Right now I’m wondering which of you is the less competent one,” she said.

“Well, that would be him,” Mal said. “No offense, Jonas, but at least we discovered the problem and we’re here to make it right. Now here’s our proposal. We take our crate and go on our way. You get your crate, which we stashed about a mile away from here. Then you two finish your business and everybody goes away happy. Or we go away happy and you shoot each other. Whatever you prefer.”

“Or I just take all the goods and keep my coin,” Patience said. “Mal, you’re still not very bright. Neither are you, Jonas. You may have taken out one of my snipers, but I put two up there.”

“Yeah, Patience,” Mal said. “As to that, we took out Jonas’s sniper who took out your sniper. And then we took out your other sniper. So now the only two snipers up there are mine. And they’re good, believe me. Aren’t they, Zoe?”

“The best, sir.”

“Yup. So, Jonas, we’ll take this crate now. Yours is a mile that way.” He pointed. “No reason for anybody to get shot.”

“You takin’ my hauler too, Mal?”

Mal shrugged. “I suppose we can leave it behind once we get our goods back on my ship. As a good-will gesture and all.”

“Or we can come with you and make sure we get it back,” Jonas said.

Mal shrugged. “Or that,” he conceded. “We just want our goods.”

“A bunch of toys?” Jonas shook his head. “What are you up to, Reynolds?”

“I’m doin’ a job,” Mal said. “Why does everybody keep asking me that?” He turned to Patience. “Give him the coin, Patience, and go get your box and keep running your little world. Nobody needs to get shot here. It’s Christmas.”

Patience blinked. “It’s what?”

“Never mind. Just get out of here.”

Patience sighed. “Every time you show up on this world I end up losing money,” Patience said as she tossed a sack of coin to Jonas. “That crate ain’t there and I’m puttin’ a bounty on you, Mal.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve got a track record here, Patience,” Mal said. “I get you the goods and then I get paid. The way a transaction’s supposed to be. You’re the one likes shootin’ people and tryin’ to get out of paying, so I’d just as soon you rode off with your men and stopped disparaging me.”

Patience laughed. “Fine, Mal, have it your way. But if you don’t mind some advice, you need to stop expecting transactions to run the way they’re supposed to. That’s why you’re still flying around in a rustbucket.” She gestured to her men, who stood down, and then they rode off.

“She only says that because she can’t fly in a ship for ten minutes without puking,” Zoe said.

“Yeah, well, let’s get this stuff back to Serenity. We’ve still got a job to do. Jonas, if you would?”

Jonas sighed. “You heard him, men. Let’s go. Least we can with him saving our bacon on this one.”

Jonas’s men grumbled but obeyed. Mal spoke into the mouthpiece on the wire he wore under his coat. “Jayne? Preacher? You can come down now. We’re all good here.”

“How’d you know where to find us, anyway?” Jonas asked.

“Dealt with Patience before,” Mal replied. “Let’s move.”

“Did you really leave her goods a mile away?”

“Yup.”

Jonas shook his head. “You could’ve kept them, sold them someplace else. Made double profit.”

“Thought of that,” Mal said. “But I need to be able to do business. No need to make an enemy out of Patience until I have to.”

They moved the crate of toys back to Serenity, whereupon Jonas ordered his men to start back to their own ship. Mal ordered his crew to get the ship ready for departure, and then he went outside with Jonas.

“Well, Mal,” Jonas said, “it was a pleasure, as always. Now, if that’s all–“

“Not quite,” Mal said. “I’ll be taking the coin that Patience gave you.”

Jonas blinked. “What?”

“You heard me,” Mal said. “You took coin from me that wasn’t yours to take. And despite that, I still came here and saved your gorram hide. Way I see it, you owe me. Let’s square up right now. Get it over with.”

Jonas stared at him. Mal sighed.

“Jonas, you really want to see what a good draw I am? And what a good shot?”

Jonas sighed and pulled the bag of coin from his jacket pocket and flipped it to Mal. “Every time I wonder how it is you stay in business, you pull something like this out of your hat.”

“Not much of a secret,” Mal said. “I don’t set my sights too high. I just keep flyin’.”

“Yeah. Well, do me a favor and don’t tell anyone you took my coin from me.”

“As far as I’m concerned, it was a payment offered in good will.”

Jonas nodded. “Yeah, call it that. But stay away from me for a while, would you?” He lit a cigar and went to join his men. Mal turned and went aboard the ship.

“OK, Wash, let’s fly. We need to be in Haven’s air within twelve hours.”

“We can just make it,” Wash replied over the loudspeaker.

Serenity lifted off.

***

Eleven and one half hours later, they were flying toward Haven. Mal came up to the bridge, where Wash was looking at a scanner.

“So?” Mal asked. “What’s the new problem?”

Wash blinked. “I didn’t call you!”

“I know, but we’re due for the next problem with this job. What is it?”

Wash pointed to the scanner. “Alliance ship in orbit. They haven’t scanned us yet, and maybe they won’t, but if they do–“

“They might board us,” Mal said. “Then again, they might not. They’re in stationary orbit?”

“Uh-huh,” Wash said. “Right above the part of town where our Shepherd’s orphanage is.”

Mal muttered several curses in Chinese.

“That’s what I said,” Wash replied.

“All right. Let me think.” Mal thought. And then he pressed the intercom button. “Would everybody please report to the hold? You too, Inara. I need everybody.”

***

The plan was this: Mal, Zoe, and Wash would stay aboard Serenity, in stationary orbit on the other side of the planet. They would load all of the toys onto Inara’s shuttle – individually, because the shuttle wasn’t big enough for something the size of that crate – and then Inara would fly down to the orphanage in the middle of the night, when Shepherd Book assured them no one would notice something like a shuttle landing on the roof. Then, Jayne, Book, Simon, Kaylee, and River would take each toy individually to a child.

It wasn’t one of Mal’s most thought-out plans, but it was the best he could come up with on fairly short notice. Mal thought it was a decent enough plan, until Zoe said “Nice plan, sir,” which was what she usually said when she thought his plans were scenarios for utter disaster. But that was the plan, and so it was that on the night before Christmas, when all through the orphanage not a child was stirring, a shuttlecraft flown by a registered Companion came down to land on the roof.

“All right, we’re here,” Jayne said as he grabbed an armful of toys. “Let’s get this ruttin’ job over with.”

“Said with the true spirit of the day,” Shepherd Book said. “All right, everyone follow me. And keep quiet. The whole place is asleep.”

“They always knew when I was sleeping,” River said. “They knew when I was awake.”

“She’s gonna be all right, isn’t she?” Jayne asked.

“Sure,” Simon said. “Isn’t she always?”

Jayne shook his head as Shepherd Book led them across the roof and into the orphanage via the roof access door, which Book lockpicked open in seconds.

“Real great security here,” Jayne remarked.

“It’s an orphanage,” Book said. “One where everybody knows there’s nothing worth stealing.”

They went downstairs, where they found themselves in a very large room, with bunk beds running down each side, and a child sleeping in each bed.

“All right, there are four more rooms like this,” Book whispered. “Every child gets a toy.”

“Right,” Jayne said, and he ran off and started randomly sticking a toy on each bed.

“Jayne!” Kaylee protested. “You can’t do it like that! You can’t give a boy a doll!”

“Why not?” Jayne asked. “They don’t like it they can trade.”

“Just do it right,” Kaylee said.

“What kind of toys did he play with?” Simon muttered.

In this way they went through the room, distributing a toy to each child. Somehow, miraculously, they got through all of the rooms without waking a single child, giving a toy to each one, one toy to each of three hundred children.

Except the last bed, which, when Jayne approached it, he discovered was empty. No child here, just rumpled sheets. Kid probably got up to go to the bathroom, or get a drink of water. “Huh,” Jayne thought. He looked at the toy in his hand – a teddy bear – and decided that he rather liked it. He’d always wanted one when he was a kid, and never got one. And this one was real nice, with a bow around its neck and everything. So there was a toy left over. So what? Kid shoulda been there in bed. Kid’s loss. He turned and headed back for the ship.

Meanwhile, River was taking her time over each gift, gently laying it on each bed, and whispering a rhyme over each child. What made it take even longer was that she was inventing each rhyme off the top of her head. Simon wondered if he should intercede, but since she was speaking in verse about things that weren’t somehow grimly dark or eerily foreboding, he thought it was best to just let her go.

Also meanwhile, Kaylee found herself wondering if it was really fair to try to pigeonhole these kids into girl toys and boy toys. After all, her toys had been wrenches and hammers and drivers and blast drills and parts from a hundred different ship engines, and look how she’d turned out! Nothin’ to be ashamed of. It was a fine life, even if once in a while she wanted something a little more than engine parts and dirty overalls.

Also meanwhile, Inara saw that the orphanage’s one lone security guard had had his curiosity piqued by some strange noises, and he came shuffling up the stairs to find a shuttle sitting on his roof. He was about to blow an alarm whistle when she came down and silenced him with a look and a flash of leg. It always worked, especially with young men like this. Barely old enough to grow a beard. Staring at her as though he’d just seen an angel. Sad world, Haven, she thought. No wonder Companions almost never come here.

“Is there a girl you like?” she asked him.

He managed to nod.

She removed a ruby brooch from her robe and handed it to him. He gulped.

“Give this to her,” she said. “And say nothing of me tonight.”

He managed to nod, again. A major accomplishment, that. And so she sent him on his way, knowing that this would be their little secret, forever. Inara could keep secrets, and what would he say? Would he talk of the beautiful woman in the spaceship on his roof? No. Of course not. She smiled.

Finally meanwhile, Shepherd Book went all the way to the lowest level of the orphanage, where the oldest kids were. These kids were in the worst shape, the ones most likely to end up in something a bit worst than Mal’s line of work, the ones most likely to end up on the wrong end of someone’s gun or floating dead through the Black. He had little hope that a toy, just one toy, would be enough to budge more than maybe one or two of them off the trajectory their lives had them on, but lots of miracles had started from smaller stuff than a single toy. He laid each one on a bed, and tried not to linger too much over the one particular bed, the one over there on the left. On his way back up to the roof, he paused at the door to the headmaster’s apartment. He wondered if he might say hello, under other circumstances. Or if he might rather go in there with a gun instead of a bible. He lingered there only a moment and then returned to the roof.

“Are we all here?”

“We’re just waiting on Jayne,” said Simon.

“Where is he?!”

At that moment, Jayne was muttering, “Where’s the gorram stairs around here?” He’d gotten lost. It was a bigger orphanage than he’d though, and now he had no idea how to get back up to the roof. But he had to get up there, fast; the night was getting old and people would be getting up soon. He rushed around, all over the place, looking behind every door, until he found the stairs up. “‘Bout time,” he said. And then he stopped, because there was an eight-year-old girl looking at him.

“Uhhh…hi there,” he said. “You should be in bed, youngster.”

“I couldn’t sleep,” said the girl. “I have bad dreams. I wanted a drink of water.”

“Well, you got your drink, so back to bed.”

“You’re not from here,” the girl said. “Are you here to steal things?”

“No,” Jayne said. “Not this time, anyway. Maybe tomorrow, haven’t figured out the next job yet. Don’t know. Gotta keep moving.” But he didn’t move. That girl just stood there, looking at him. All big-eyed, with her tangled hair and bedrobe that wasn’t filthy but had seen better days anyway…. “I think your eyes are stuck,” he said. “I gotta go.”

“Bye,” she said. And she stood there watching as he went halfway up the stairs, where he stopped.

“Aww, gorram it,” he said as he turned back and came back down. “This is for you.” He handed her the teddy bear. “Hold onto it tight when you sleep. Might help with them dreams. I got a preacher friend who says this is Christmas, so…have a ruttin’ happy Christmas.” And then he went up the stairs, practically running up them, to get away from the girl with the big eyes.

“That all the toys?” he asked when he got on board the shuttle.

“There were about twenty or so left over,” said Simon. “I left those in a playroom.”

“We’re all ready, right?” Inara called back.

“We’re all here!” Book said. “Close her up and let’s go home.”

Inara guided the little shuttle back into the air, and up into the sky toward the planet’s other side, where Serenity lay in orbit.

“What took you so long, Jayne?” Kaylee asked.

“Got lost,” Jayne said. “And…there was a little girl. Don’t worry, I gave her a toy.”

River pointed at his shirt, his red shirt. “A man with a beard wearing red came in the night to give her a present,” she said. “Just like the old stories!”

Jayne stared at her. “What is she ruttin’ talkin’ about?”

“Nothing,” said Book.

When they arrived on Serenity, Mal was there, waiting.

“Nice work,” he said.

“Thank you, Captain,” said Shepherd Book. “I appreciate it.”

“I did a job,” Mal said. “Soon as that tree gets dry and starts dropping those sharp needles all over my mess–“

“I’ll have it down, sir.”

Mal nodded and headed for his bunk. “Nice work, everyone,” he called out. “Zoe, wake me when we get to Persephone.”

***

A few weeks later they’d done another job, and they all had a little extra money. Not a lot, but some. So they all decided to exchange gifts. Mal wasn’t sure whose idea it was, or if it even was anyone’s idea, but it seemed to happen anyway.

Zoe gave her dear husband Wash that stegosaurus figurine he’d wanted. Wash gave his beloved wife Zoe a brand new leather vest.

Shepherd Book gave Simon an old copy of a very old anatomy book, a ‘classic text’ on the subject, from Old Earth. Simon gave River a rose made out of glass, with gold leaf on the petals; she commented on the fact that it had thorns. River gave the Shepherd a new Bible, which she promised him she would leave ‘uncorrected’.

Kaylee gave Jayne a new carrying case for Vera, his favorite gun; Jayne gave Inara a robe that she knew she would look stunning in but would never ever ever wear in front of Jayne. And Inara gave Kaylee a new engine stabilizer and one of her own robes.

And Mal? He got what he always wanted. He got to keep flying.

The End
Merry Ruttin’ Christmas
and a Happy Gorram New Year!!!

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Shiny in the Black: A “Firefly” Christmas (part three)

Continuing my fanfic exercise in what a Christmas-themed episode of Firefly might have been like.
part one
part two

“Weapons on the ground!” the voice shouted. “Now!”

“Do it,” Mal said. He shot a look at Jayne, whose expression of disgust tended to be indistinguishable from his expression of being about to lose his temper. Slowly, Mal, Zoe and Jayne all laid their guns on the floor.

“Put that package on the floor too, preacher,” said the voice.

Book put the crate down.

“All right, face the crates.”

They complied.

“Put your hands on your head.”

They complied.

“Stand on your left feet and recite the first stanza the Alliance anthem!”

Mal glanced at Zoe. “Uh, what?”

Now the voice burst out in laughter. “All right, turn ’em off,” he said. The floodlights all shut off, and the light returned to the dim of the warehouse overhead lamps. Mal turned toward the source of the voice to see a stocky man dressed in old army fatigues approaching. The man was bald except for long, stringy hairs that hung from the back of his head; he had a thick mustache and three days’ growth of beard. He gave Mal a gap-toothed grin as he put his hands on his hips.

“Ahh, Mal, what am I gonna do with you?”

Mal and the others glanced around at the ‘lawmen’, and saw that they weren’t lawmen at all. They were a motley bunch of thieves. Not unlike themselves.

“Jonas,” Mal said. “Fancy meeting you here. I never figured you to be on Ariel. Kind of a rich world for your tastes, isn’t it?”

“Gotta go where the money is, my boy,” the man named Jonas said as he lit a cigar and took a few puffs. “‘Sides, ain’t planning on being here long. I’m guessing you weren’t either.”

“Not really,” Mal agreed. “Can we put our hands down? I don’t tend to find this posture conducive to friendly chat.”

“Ain’t so sure we’re being friendly,” Jonas said. “But sure, let your hands down. Don’t make a move toward those weapons, though.”

“Of course not,” said Mal. “After all, we’re just bein’ friendly.”

“I suppose we are,” Jonas replied as Mal and his people lowered their hands. “So, Mal, what are you doing here?”

“Same as you,” Mal said. “Doin’ a job.”

“And what would be the nature of that job?”

“Well, we’re purchasing the contents of this crate right here and going with them to a…client on Haven. Easy enough.”

“Sounds easy. Haven’s a piss-poor world…wait, did you say you were purchasing the goods?”

Mal shrugged. “Yeah, we’re doin’ it the honest way this time. Wanted to see what that was like.”

“Really. Honest. Dumpin’ a box of coin here and taking the box? That’s a new version of honest. Sounds to me like you’ve found a way of stealin’ that ends up costin’ you money.”

“Yeah,” Mal said, shooting a look at Shepherd Book, “I guess we didn’t really work all the kinks out.”

“Well, Mal, I can’t let you have this box. See, we need it, too. I’m doing a job, myself, and there’s a cantankerous old woman out on Whitefall that could use some of what’s in that box.”

“Whitefall?” Mal laughed. “You’re planning on doing business with Patience?”

“Sure. Why not?”

“Oh, no reason,” Mal said. “Just make sure you plan for her to try to shoot you.”

“Nah,” Jonas said. “Patience and me go way back. I was the one who told her that she should shoot you if she got the chance.”

“Well that was nice of you,” Mal said. “She got the chance. Twice. I’m still here, still flyin’. Counts for somethin’.”

“Yeah, I guess it does. But I can’t let you take this box, coin or no. You see, Mal–“

“Hey, Captain!” It was one of Jonas’s men. Jonas rolled his eyes.

“What is it, Randy? I’m trying to be threatening here, and you’re interrupting.”

“I know, Cap, but this ain’t the box we’re here for.”

“What?”

“Look!” The wiry man named Randy held out a PDA for Jonas to look at. “See, that’s the number of the box we want. It’s the next one over. That one.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. That one’s got the farming seed and fertilizer in it. See, the one we want is in slot number 29-94-77. This slot is number 29-94-75.”

“Oh,” said Jonas.

“Well, this changes things a bit, doesn’t it?” Mal said.

“I think it does, Captain,” said Zoe.

“You see, Jonas, there’s no need to make this deal confrontational. Instead of goin’ that way, we can go another. We’re not even here for the same crate. We’ll take what we want, you’ll take what you want, and everybody’s happy.”

“Seriously, Mal? You’re after this crate? What’s in it?”

“I don’t think that really matters,” said Mal. “Haven’s not a big farming world, so you can bet I’m not looking for farming seed and fertilizer. Let’s just take what we all want and be done with it.”

Jonas kept his gun aimed at Mal as he considered things. Then he nodded at the Shepherd.

“Sure, Mal, we can do that. But I want the coin, too.”

Mal shrugged. “Give it to him, Preacher,” he said.

“Really?” asked Book.

“Yeah, really,” Mal said. “Plan was to leave the coin here anyway. But if you’re gonna take the coin, least you could do is have your boys load our crate onto our hauler for us.”

“I suppose I could do that,” Jonas said. His men grumbled, but he hissed them quiet. “A friendly gesture, right?”

“Yeah,” Mal said. “If we promise not to shoot you, can we pick up our guns now?”

“Sure,” Jonas said. “But we’ll still be coverin’ you until this is done.”

“I figured,” Mal replied as he picked up his pistol. The others followed suit.

“How’d you get in here, anyway?” Jonas asked.

“Door was open.”

“Well, I suppose you can thank me for that,” Jonas replied. “Paid the guards to leave it open and make themselves scarce. All right, boys, you heard the man. Let’s get these boxes loaded! Remember, this one here goes with them, that one down there goes with us. With the Shepherd’s coin.”

Book handed the box of coin to one of Jonas’s men, four of whom turned to the work of loading both crates while Jonas and Randy kept their pistols aimed at Mal and his people.

“Somethin’ here ain’t right,” Jayne said. “We’re gonna get screwed on this deal.”

“Well, Jayne, the screwing was built into the deal, so at least we’re not surprised by it.” Mal shook his head. “This is a weird damn job, though.”

“Nah,” Jayne replied. “There’s still some way this is gonna go south. You watch. Always happens to us.”

Mal rolled his eyes. “Not all our jobs end in disaster,” he said.

“Name one,” Jayne said.

“Well, there was–“

“You ended up drunk and with a con-woman pretending to be your wife.”

“Yeah, but it was good up to then.”

After about ten minutes, they were all outside and both crates were loaded onto their respective haulers.

“Well, Mal,” said Jonas, “I’d prefer if you’d drive off first. And try to stay out of my way in the future.”

“Pleasure doin’ business as always, Jonas,” Mal said. “But I wouldn’t mind pointin’ out that just because we were in the same place, doesn’t mean I was in your way.”

“Even so. I don’t want to get your luck on me, Reynolds. You have a history of taking on work that doesn’t leave you much of a profit. One day you’re gonna realize that ‘Just keep flying’ isn’t a great strategy for life.”

“Thanks for the wisdom, Jonas. Got some for you, too.”

“Yeah? What’s that?”

“Patience is gonna try to shoot you.”

Jonas grinned. “Let her try.” He gestured with his pistol, sending Mal and his people off.

“I’m tellin’ you, this is gonna be a bad deal for everybody,” Jayne said as they neared Serenity.

“Calm down, Jayne. Your opinion is noted.”

Mal drove the hauler back onto the ship’s cargo hold, and Kaylee closed the hatch behind them. Simon and River were there waiting; Wash was on the bridge, and he called down on the intercom.

“Captain?” Wash said. “I’m ready to lift.”

“What are you waiting for!” Mal responded. The ship shifted beneath their feet as the engines roared and Serenity lifted off. Book and Jayne were offloading the crate from the hauler and securing it.

“You see, everybody?” Mal said as he took off his overcoat and tossed it at the foot of the stairs. “Nice, simple job. No big worries, no big fuss. We’re out some coin, sure, but we’ve got a big crate full of nice, shiny toys that will make all the children in an orphanage on Haven happy.”

“Everything went all right?” said Simon. “No hiccups?”

“One little hiccup,” Mal said. “But it didn’t amount to much.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that, Captain,” said Shepherd Book.

“What?”

“Hey Mal,” Jayne said. “We got a problem.”

Mal glanced at Zoe. They walked aft, to where Book and Jayne were both staring at the crate, which Book had opened. Zoe took one look and let out a string of expletives in Chinese. Mal did the same, only with a string of completely different expletives in Chinese.

The crate was full of farm seed and fertilizer. They had the wrong crate.

End Part Three
Conclusion

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Shiny in the Black: A “Firefly” Christmas (part two)

Continuing my fanfic exercise in what a Christmas-themed episode of Firefly might have been like.
part one

Wash put Serenity down on the landing pad, nice and gentle. So nice and gentle that Zoe complimented him on it.

“You’re getting’ more gentle all the time, honey,” Zoe said. “You have such a gift for handling sensitive equipment.”

“Thanks for sayin’ so, my love,” Wash replied. “But I could always use more practice–“

“All right, enough of that, you two.” Mal came up onto the bridge, fully dressed in his usual brown shirt, brown pants, brown belt, brown holster, brown boots, and probably brown socks too, if one could see them underneath all of that. “Wash, you keep the ship warmed and ready to lift if some part of this job goes south. Zoe, you’re coming along.”

“I figured, sir.”

“Captain,” Wash said, “is it really necessary to have contingency plans for this job? We’re actually conducting an honest transaction for once.”

“Yeah,” Mal said. “For once. We don’t get a whole lot of practice with this kind of thing, so who knows what might go wrong. You and Kaylee keep the ship ready. River and the Doc will keep you company. Zoe, you’ll be with Jayne, the Shepherd, and me.”

“What’s Inara doing?”

“Well, I think she’s still on her shuttle, writing long entries in her diary about how much she hates me right now.”

Zoe knew what that meant. “You told her no clients.”

“We ain’t got time. Why am I always the bad guy on this?”

“Oh, I couldn’t begin to venture a guess, Captain,” Zoe said. “Let’s go.”

Mal and Zoe began to exit the bridge.

“Zoe?” Wash called out.

“Yes, love?”

“You’re going to buy toys,” Wash said. “I could use a new stegosaurus for the collection.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

The Captain and Zoe left then, and Wash reached into the small footlocker next to his seat and pulled out a handful of his dinosaur figurines.

In the cargo hold, Shepherd Book and Jayne had the cargo hauler ready to go.

“Jayne,” Book said, “do you really need that many guns?”

“Preacher, are you carryin’ that Bible of yours right now?”

“Good point.”

They lifted a crate containing coin up onto the back of the hauler as Mal and Zoe arrived and descended the criss-crossing stairs down to their level.

“Awful lot of coin to be givin’ up,” Mal said.

“A purchase of good will is never a bad purchase,” said Book.

“You get that from that Bible of yours?”

“No, it just came to me,” Book replied. “A preacher can’t live on the words of one book alone.”

“All right,” Mal said. “Let’s go. Kaylee, open her up.”

“Be careful, Captain,” Kaylee said as she opened the ship’s cargo door and lowered the ramp. Mal, Jayne, Zoe and Book drove off in the hauler. Then Kaylee closed the ship back up. She turned away from the control and nearly jumped out of her skin when she saw that River was standing there, unblinking, just inches away.

“River! You scared me!”

“Would you like me to teach you a song?” River asked.

Kaylee blinked. “Uhhh…sure, honey. I’d love to learn a song.”

“It goes like this. ‘On the first day of Christmas, the operatives brought to me….'”

“Uh, River?” Kaylee interrupted. “Is this one of those creepy songs you learned while you were captive at…that place?”

“Yes,” River said. “I guess I should learn some new songs myself.”

“Yeah,” Kaylee said. “That would be great.”

***

Mal drove the hauler through a warehouse district of Ariel’s main city. Unlike the shiny, wealthy area they had visited a few months earlier – to steal some medicine – this area was much darker and dingier. Every planet, no matter how rich, had parts like this, Mal had long since learned. No one was rich enough to banish dirt and grime forever.

“You know where this warehouse is, right, Book?” Mal asked.

“I’ve got the address right here,” Book said, holding up an electronic data organizer. “And the crate number of the merchandise we’re getting. It’ll be in and out.”

Jayne growled. “Every time one of you people says we’ll be in and out, I go through half my ammo. I haven’t had an in and out job since–“

“Jayne, I’m sure that’s fascinating,” Mal cut in. “But just in case it ain’t, why don’t you hold it to yourself?”

“Sure, Mal,” Jayne said. “I’ll just sit here and be quiet as usual while you and Zoe tell each other the same stories over and over again. Hey, can I hear that one about that time you both got your asses kicked by the Alliance? I love that one.”

“Captain,” Mal said, pointing to himself. “First mate,” he said, pointing to Zoe. “Gun for hire.” He pointed to Jayne.

“Thank you for clearing us up on the chain of command, Captain,” said Shepherd Book. “But we appear to have reached the warehouse.”

“All right.” Mal brought the hauler to a stop near an entrance. “Standard procedure. Zoe, you’ll get us in. Then, Jayne, you’re in first, followed by me, then the Shepherd, and Zoe, you bring up the rear. We’re going to try and find this crate, get it, and be done with it before anyone knows were here.”

“In and out, Captain?” Zoe said.

“In and out,” Mal agreed.

“Not usually our thing,” Zoe said as she walked to the door.

“See, Mal?” Jayne said. “This is what I’m talkin’ about.”

“Well Jayne, that’s six hours since I last regretted hirin’ you.” Mal smiled. “I think that’s a new record for you, ain’t it? Hey Zoe, you got that door open yet?”

“Think so, sir,” Zoe said as she pressed a button that made the large bay door swing open. “Pretty easy, too.”

“Huh,” said Mal.

“Anybody else thinkin’ that was a little too easy?” Jayne put in.

Mal shrugged. “Well, we’ve got guns, so if we get into some local color, we can make our way out.”

“There might be armed guards inside,” Book pointed out.

“Cold feet, Shepherd?” Mal said. “This was your idea. But we’re here, and I’m not in the habit of runnin’ away at the first sign of something unexpected, especially if that unexpected thing is something that actually makes my life a little easier. Like an unlocked door. Shepherd, grab the coin. Jayne?”

Book picked up the crate of coin, and Jayne came forward and led them inside.

The warehouse was, pretty much, like every other warehouse in the ‘Verse. There’s only so much you can do, really, to dress up hundreds of stacks of thousands of cargo crates in an enormous, cavernous room.

“Well, would you look at that,” Jayne said. “A warehouse. We don’t see these too often.”

“Sure, Jayne.”

“I mean, yeah, we go into our share of storehouses, stockpiles, armories…there was that one depository we knocked over that one time…and before I joined you people, there was that distribution center job…but not a lot of warehouses.”

“Jayne,” Mal said, “are you trying to get on my gorram nerves?”

“Just commentin’ on the unique nature of this job, Mal.”

“Shut it, Jayne,” Zoe said. “Preacher, you got the crate number?”

Book consulted a slip of paper. “It’s 29-94-75.”

Mal looked at the manifest markings emblazoned on the side of several nearby crates, and determined which way they needed to go. “This way,” he said, and with Jayne in the lead and Zoe in the rear, they made their way down the corridor created by line upon line of stacked crates.

It didn’t take long to find it. The crate was pretty large, taller than Mal by about two feet, and about eight feet long and six feet across. Mal shone his flashlight on the crate and read the number. “This is it,” he said. “29-94-75. No other markings.”

“There wouldn’t be,” Book said. “The number is all they need.”

“Yeah, I know how shipping works,” Mal said. “All right, here it is. Now we just gotta get it out of here.”

“That crate’s a little big for me to haul out on my back,” Jayne said. “Of all the gorram–“

Zoe cleared her throat. “I think that’s the solution to our problem, Captain,” she said. She pointed to an open area about thirty feet away, where two forklifts stood silent.

“There it is, then,” Mal said. “Easy. Jayne, you’ll drive the lift. We’ll get the goods back out to our hauler, get back to the ship, before anyone knows we were here. No problem. See, I told you! Easy job.”

At that moment six floodlights turned on, three from each side, all trained on Mal and his crew.

“Malcolm Reynolds!” a voice boomed out from the darkness behind the floodlights. “Malcolm Reynolds, you are bound by law to stand down.”

Jayne muttered something in Chinese.

“In and out, right, Captain?” Zoe said.

All Mal could do was raise his hands and nod for the others to do the same.

End Part Two
Part Three

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Shiny in the Black: A “Firefly” Christmas (part one)

I feel a little bit dirty doing this…but only a little bit. I have no idea, had Firefly lived, if there ever would have been a Christmas-themed episode. Maybe, maybe not. But I got to thinking recently, that if Firefly actually had lived, and if it actually had done a Christmas-themed episode, what on Earth would a Firefly Christmas-themed episode even look like?

Well, at the risk of committing an act of fanfic…I like to think that such an episode would look a little bit like this.

Take my love, take my land
Take me where I cannot stand
I don’t care, I’m still free
You can’t take the sky from me
Take me out to the black
Tell them I ain’t comin’ back
Burn the land and boil the sea
You can’t take the sky from me
There’s no place I can be
Since I found Serenity
But you can’t take the sky from me…

Captain Malcolm Reynolds was usually the first one to exit his bunk in the morning, which, coupled with the fact that he was also usually the last one to retire to his bunk at night, went a long way to making him the way he was. Even on mornings like this one, when the night before he and the rest of his crew had been up abnormally late celebrating a score on Persephone, he was up before anyone else, no matter how much his head throbbed and the metallic taste of too much bad whiskey filled his mouth. But on this morning, as he climbed up the ladder to the hallway and shuffled toward the mess, he slowly realized that he wasn’t the first one up this time. Someone was in the mess already, and they were singing. Mal could make out the words – “God rest ye, merry gentlemen…” — and he inwardly sighed. On a typical day, Mal needed at least three cups of green tea before he was ready to deal with Shepherd Book. Today he figured to need six cups before he felt ready to talk to anyone.

“Ah! Good morning, Captain! There’s water on the stove, just off the boil, if you’re looking for tea.” The Shepherd beamed.

“Yeah,” Mal said. “I’ll get to the tea in just a moment, Shepherd, but just now I’m a bit flummoxed as to why there’s a tree in the corner of my mess.”

“Oh, that,” said the Shepherd. “I hoped you wouldn’t mind. Just a little something I picked up before we left Persephone yesterday.”

“I didn’t notice you bringing a tree on board?”

“Yes, I was worried about how to sneak it onto the ship, when I realized that God had provided me a perfect way to get it past your eyes.”

“And that was….”

“You and Jayne were ripping drunk. Zoe and Wash and the Doctor carried you on board. You weren’t noticing anything last night.”

“I wasn’t that drunk!”

“Maybe, Captain, but you got out of bed and came all the way to the mess wearing your gun, your slippers, and a pair of women’s underwear.”

“Oh.” Mal staggered over to the stove. “I think I’m gonna have that tea now, while you explain why there’s a gorram tree on my gorram boat.”

“There’s no need for language, Captain.” The Shepherd folded his hands in front of his chest, in that prayerful stance that Mal hated. Of course, Book well knew that the Captain hated it when he took that tone, which is why he did it so much more often now. Mal just grunted as he fumbled in the cupboard for his favorite mug and the tea leaves.

“Hand me the kitchen robe,” Mal said.

“Certainly.” Book opened another cupboard and pulled out a bundle of cloth, which he tossed to the Captain. This was the ‘kitchen robe’, a bathrobe that Mal kept stashed in the mess just for situations like this. He put on the robe as his tea steeped, and just in time, too, because that’s when Zoe and Wash arrived. Zoe looked all cleaned up and ready to go, as did Wash, even if no one could tell because Wash generally looked all cattawumpus, with his unbuttoned shirt over a tank top, shorts, and sandals.

“Well, this is very nice,” Zoe said. “Care to let us know what you’re wearing underneath the kitchen robe, sir?”

“I do not,” said Mal. “And you can stop laughing. We’ve all had mornings like this.”

“Not laughing, sir.”

“You laugh on the inside,” Mal countered.

“It’s true, honey,” said Wash. “You do. I, on the other hand, plan to laugh joyously out loud at our Captain and his self-induced plight.”

“I hold my liquor better than you,” Mal said.

“I never get much chance to develop my skills in that regard,” Wash replied, “seeing as how somebody‘s gotta be sober enough to fly the ship. Speaking of which, do we have a destination, Captain?”

“Can I drink my tea first before I think about business?”

“Certainly, sir.”

Shepherd Book took a step forward. “I actually have a few thoughts as to that–“

“Ooooh, pretty!” And with that, everyone turned to greet Kaylee, who had just arrived in the mess as well, wearing a freshly cleaned pair of overalls over a shirt with little red hearts all over it. “I didn’t know we could grow trees on board!”

“We can’t grow trees on board,” Mal said. “This here is a flight of fancy by the good Shepherd, who I’m sure will be explaining himself momentarily.”

“Well, I like it,” said Kaylee. “It’s shiny.”

“It’s not shiny yet, actually,” said Book. “It will be, after we decorate it.”

“Decorating?” Mal said. “A tree?”

“Yes sir,” said Book.

“So just the fact that there’s a tree on my boat isn’t even the strangest part of this whole business?”

“It’s not strange, Captain,” said Book. “It’s a tradition.”

“Preacher, you got any notion as to how many weird things people do are explained by casual use of the word ‘tradition’?” Mal sipped his tea. “That explains a lot of your whole ‘Shepherding’ job, you know.”

“Traditions become traditions because they mean something to people,” Book said. “You’ve got some traditions yourself, Captain.”

“Name one.”

“For one, your finding of an Alliance-friendly bar every year on Unification Day. And also your overindulgence every time we get a little more money for a job than you’d planned.” He smiled. “At least this tradition doesn’t involve a headache and the burning of another set of clothes.”

“Yeah, well, I’ll be taking that explanation now, if you don’t mind.”

“Certainly, Captain. It all began on–“

He was interrupted by a loud burst of raspy Chinese as Jayne Cobb staggered into the mess. “Smells like a ruttin’ forest in here,” Jayne said when he’d finished cursing in Chinese.”I hate forests. They remind me of my grandmother.”

This, as did many things Jayne said, made everyone stop talking and stare at him.

“What? Oh, I suppose you all think that forests are nice places filled with happy little creatures. Like one of Kaylee’s storybooks.”

“I don’t read ‘storybooks’,” Kaylee protested. “I’m not a child, Jayne. I’m an engineer and I’m a woman with all the needs of a woman, like—”

“Stop! Please!” Mal burst out. “You know I don’t want to hear about that, Kaylee.”

“Sorry, Captain.”

“Wash, can you just get us in the air, please?”

“I wanted to hear about this tree first,” Wash said. “I mean, since you haven’t given us a destination yet for our next job and all.”

More silence, until Zoe cleared her throat.

“By any chance, Captain, did you think to line us up a new job when we finished the old one?”

Mal shrugged. “I had other things on my mind last night,” he said.

“I’ll say,” said the newest arrival into the mess. “Although I don’t think he was exactly thinking with his mind last night.” It was Inara, who looked typically resplendent in her kimono-like morning robe. “Was she memorable, Mal?”

“Well, she–“

“You don’t remember her, do you?”

“You know, I think we’ve all got off the main topic here, which is why there’s a gorram tree on my boat!”

“Well, Captain,” said Book, “as I tried to start explaining–“

“A Christmas tree,” said yet someone else. Tensions went up as the voice of the ever-enigmatic River Tam cut through. “We had a Christmas tree at the institute. The men there said there would be presents. That was before they started the mental probes.”

River stood there in the doorway, with her brother, Simon the good doctor, standing behind her.

“River?” Simon said. “Do you remember something?”

“I remember everything,” River said. “I just choose when to talk about it.”

“So,” Simon said, “you know what the tree is?”

“I just said so,” River replied. “It’s a Christmas tree. But it’s naked. It needs decorations to make it shiny.”

“Ah,” said Book. “You see, Kaylee? That’s what I was getting at. We’ll decorate it.”

“With what?” Kaylee asked.

“Oh, all sorts of things,” said Book. “Ornaments made of painted glass. Little lights. Popcorn that we put on strings. And I even have a figurine of an angel for the very top of the tree.”

Jayne cleared his throat. “Anybody else here havin’ a hard time figurin’ out who’s crazier here, the Shepherd or the Doc’s sister?”

“I don’t think it sounds crazy,” said Kaylee. “I think it sounds nice.”

“It kind of does,” said Wash. Noticing Zoe giving him a skeptical glance, he went on, “What? I’ve been saying for years that this boat could use some more color on it.”

“My boat’s got all the color it needs,” said Mal. “Look, people, next person other than the Shepherd who talks is on mess patrol for a month. Shepherd, explain this. You’ve got until I finish my cup of tea, and if your explanation ain’t convincing, you’re the one on mess patrol.”

“A hard bargain as always, Captain,” said Book. “It’s an Old Earth tradition. The Bible tells us that one day, God decided to come into the world in the form of an infant, so he could save his people. Ever since then, believers have celebrated that night by doing things like exchanging gifts, and bringing trees into their homes to decorate. That’s what I’m doing here.”

“Shepherd,” Mal said, “didn’t I once tell you that God ain’t welcome on the Serenity?”

“You did, Captain. But it’s my belief that God is here, whether you consider him welcome or not.”

“Well, be that as it may, you’ve brought a tree onto my ship without asking me.”

“Would you have said ‘yes’?”

“No, but that ain’t the point. I like to be asked anyway. It’s my ship.”

“I just thought…it might be a source of pleasure for us,” Book said. “You don’t have to believe to celebrate.”

“You said somethin’ about exchangin’ gifts,” Jayne said. “What’s that?”

“Well,” Book said, “we could each randomly select a member of the crew and get that person a gift.” He noticed the scowl on Mal’s face. “Or not.”

“We should,” Kaylee said. “We don’t do enough nice things for one another.”

“I let you all stay on board,” Mal said. “That’s nice of me.”

“And your hospitality is known throughout the ‘Verse,” Inara said. “That’s why so many people flock to us to give us money.”

“Yeah,” Mal said, “I’m a loving man. But as to the money thing, you said something about a job, preacher? You got a lead for us?”

“I do,” said Book. “Of a sort.”

“Of a sort? The paying sort?”

“Not as such, no.”

“Then what is it?”

“There’s an orphanage on Haven,” Book said.

Lot of orphanages on Haven,” Jayne pointed out.

“Yes, but as it happens, I know this orphanage particularly well.” Book looked like he was remembering something…but then he snapped back to the moment. “I would simply like for us to take some of our recently abundant bounty – not all of which was obtained through means the authorities would entirely smile upon – and use it to purchase supplies for the orphanage. We would then deliver said items to the orphanage in time for an upcoming festival.”

“Supplies?” Mal asked.

Book nodded. “Food, clothing, and…toys.”

“Toys?” Mal repeated.

Jayne frowned. “And we’re doin’ this in exchange for what?”

Book just smiled.

“No way,” Jayne said. “No way, uh-uh. No way I’m givin’ some of my ruttin’ money to some bunch of orphans. Ain’t my fault they ain’t got no home. Let ’em grow up, find work, and make an honest livin’.”

“Is anyone besides me,” Simon said, “unusually touched by Jayne’s newfound belief in making an honest living?”

“Shut up, Doc,” Jayne said. “Least I ain’t hidin’ behind a slip of a girl.”

“No,” River said. “You hide behind a gun that you gave a girl’s name.”

Jayne’s only response to that was a grumbled growl.

“Let me get this straight, preacher,” Mal said. “You want us to spend some of the money we’ve fought and scrimped for and use it to give stuff to children? And you want us to do this on a time frame of…what?”

“Three days, Captain.”

“Three days. And we’re doing all this with no reward for us?”

“Not all rewards come in the form of money, Captain.”

“The ones that keep this boat in the air do,” Mal said.

“Come on, Captain!” Kaylee said. “I, for one, would like to do a job for once that don’t make me feel like I need a shower after.”

“Maybe we put it to a vote of the crew?” Simon offered.

Mal glared at him. “My ship ain’t a democracy,” he said. “But…Jayne?”

“Can’t decide, Mal,” he said. “Normally I’d be against this sort of stuff, but I’m thinkin’ that if we don’t do it, Kaylee here’ll be complaining about it for months. Might well be worth doin’ to keep her quiet.”

“Thanks, Jayne,” Kaylee said. “But really, it’ll feel good. Don’t you all want to feel good about something for once? I mean, feel good about something other than stealin’ from the Alliance?”

“There’s other things to feel good about?” Jayne asked.

Mal turned to his second in command for help. “Zoe?”

“I don’t know, Captain,” Zoe replied. “Normally I’m siding with you, but right now, I find myself a bit swayed by Kaylee’s youthful exuberance.”

“I can’t believe I’m even considering this,” Mal said.

Shepherd Book put a hand on Mal’s shoulder. “I think that maybe some part of you is seeking redemption,” Book said.

Mal glared at him.

“Not really helping your cause there, preacher,” Zoe said.

Book removed his hand.

“If we do this,” Mal said, “I’ve got some conditions. Kaylee, you are not allowed to badger me for an optional ship’s part for one month. Shepherd, you will do all cooking and mess duty for the same month. Jayne, one word that this job makes me soft, and I’m shooting you out the airlock.”

“What about me, Captain?” Inara asked, purposely blinking her beautiful eyelashes as she did so.

“Uh…I’ll think of something,” Mal said. “All right, Shepherd, where are we going first?”

“To buy some toys,” Book said. “Which means a trip to Ariel.”

“Wash, you heard the man. Let’s get in the air. I’m gonna go clean up. Can’t believe I’m doing this….” And with that, Mal left the mess to return to his bunk. Wash and Zoe headed for the bridge, and Kaylee left for the engine room. River gave Shepherd Book a look of reproach.

“You didn’t tell him the part about the elfin-man dressed in red who flies through the sky to give the children their presents,” she said.

“On the whole,” Book replied, “I figured it best to leave that part out of it.”

“Yeah,” Simon said. “That was…probably wise.”

Minutes later, Serenity lifted off and flew away from Persephone and toward Ariel.

End Part One
Part Two

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If only Shakespeare had written about exploding spaceships….

I’ll be taking a bit of a break from reading space opera, since I may well have OD’d on the genre over the last few months. Here are notes on the most recent books of explodey-spaceshippy goodness that I’ve read.

:: Thumbing through my increasingly-bulky space opera collection, I found a book called Legends of Santiago by Mike Resnick. I know just by looking at the book that it’s something I bought from the Science Fiction Book Club, during one of my various periods of membership, but I have no recollection of actually doing so, which leads me to believe it’s one of those books I ended up with because I forgot to send in that stupid reply card. Obviously I opened the box when it showed up and decided to keep it, because it’s space opera.

Legends of Santiago is actually an omnibus containing two novels by Resnick, Santiago and The Return of Santiago. I only read the first, opting to save the other for a later time if I liked the first book. The short verdict? Next time I decide to have a space opera binge, The Return of Santiago will be near the top of the list.

Santiago (apparently subtitled A Myth of the Far Future in other editions, but not in mine) tells the story of a bounty hunter named Sebastian Cain, at some indeterminate point in the future when much of the Galaxy has been colonized and humans have created a wide-ranging interstellar government called “the Democracy”. In meeting with a fellow bounty hunter, Cain receives an interesting tidbit of information that could possibly lead him to the whereabouts of the most wanted outlaw in the entire galaxy, a mysterious figure known only as…Santiago.

Cain sets out after Santiago, pretty much for no other reason than the fact that Santiago represents the greatest single challenge possible to a person in his line of work. Along the way he meets other criminals, joining some and running afoul of others, and in some cases both joining and running afoul of them, as he slowly closes in on his goal.

Santiago is written rather like a space Western, and is told almost entirely from the point of view of various outlaw characters. The general feel of the book is – and I mean this as high praise – similar to that of Firefly, to cite the current reigning champion of space westerns. The main device of having everybody chasing after a particular Maguffin is executed by Resnick to perfection; Resnick sets the stage by establishing Santiago’s legend in the book’s prologue. Here’s how that starts:

They say his father was a comet and his mother a cosmic wind, that he juggles planets as if they were feathers and wrestles with black holes just to work up an appetite. They say he never sleeps, and that his eyes burn brighter than a nva, and that his shout can level mountains.

They call him Santiago.

*

Far out on the Galactic Rim, at the very edge of the Outer Frontier, there is a world called Silverblue. It is a water world, with just a handful of islands dotting the placid ocean that overs its surface. If you stand on the very largest island and look into the night sky, you can see almost all fo the Milky Way, a huge twinkling river of stars that seems to flow through half the universe.

And if you stand on the western shore of an island during the daytime, with your back to the water, you will see a grass-covered knoll. Atop the knoll are seventeen white crosses, each bearing the name of a good man or woman who thought to colonize this gentle world.

And beneath each name is the same legend, repeated seventeen times:

Killed by Santiago.

I don’t know how you stop reading a book that starts like that.

Resnick’s creation of a criminal subculture is the best part of the book; he even gives the outlaws of the Galaxy their very own historian who is collecting their adventures into an epic poem. As the book went on, I started to figure that there were two major possibilities as to the actual identity of Santiago. I’m happy that one of these turned out to be correct.

I highly recommend Santiago.

:: Continuing to work my way through the adventures of Miles Vorkosigan, I finished the omnibus volume Young Miles with the novella The Mountains of Mourning and the novel The Vor Game. I’m rapidly discovering that these are some of the best character-driven stories around, and Miles Vorkosigan – the diminutive, birth-defected officer in the military of the highly-miliaristic society of the planet Barrayar – is a very compelling character. When we left him at the end of The Warrior’s Apprentice, Miles had managed to finagle his way into the Barrayaran Academy at the behest of the Emperor.

The Mountains of Mourning sends Miles into the rural mountain country near his family estate on Barrayar, where he is tasked with investigating an infanticide. Miles’s father, Count Aral Vorkosigan, gives him the assignment for reasons of his own, reasons which Miles gradually figures out as he delves into the backward mindsets of the rural mountain-dwellers and tries to figure out not just who murdered the child, but why.

In The Vor Game, Miles graduates from the Academy and enters active service. He, along with all of his cadet friends, is hoping for ship duty – but he is assigned instead to serve as Meteorological Officer on an icy island in the Barrayaran north. In typical Miles fashion, he ends up making enemies and friends up there, and also in typical Miles fashion, despite his best efforts, things go seriously awry and Miles finds himself allied with a failed mutiny and under arrest.

One thing I’m quickly learning about the Vorkosigan Saga is that everything is always twisting and turning. What starts off as a “young upstart sent to a dead-end military assignment” story soon becomes a war-intrigue story, delving into the politics surrounding star systems with control over wormholes to other systems. Bujold has an amazing way with all of this stuff, seamlessly blending the politics into the character stuff and back again, so we never get the feeling that the politics exists in a totally separate realm from the actions of our characters. I look forward to continuing the Vorkosigan Saga!

:: And finally, we have Leviathan Wakes, by James S.A. Corey, which is a composite pseudonym for authors Daniel Abraham and Ty Franck. I find it kind of odd that they felt the need to create a pseudonym for their collaboration; I’m sure this has been done before, though, so I suppose it’s not all that odd. I am confused as to why they just couldn’t go with their actual names. Although I do know that sometimes when authors gain success in one genre, they have difficulty breaking into another genre under their own names, or that publishers decide to have authors use different names to make it easier to track such things. Such as Iain M. Banks, who writes SF under that name but omits the middle initial for his fantasy novels.

But anyway, none of that really matters. What matters is that Leviathan Wakes is just terrific. It’s one of the most entertaining novels I’ve read in years. It’s pure entertainment. It’s a “large popcorn and a Coke” novel that screams out for a score by John Williams or Jerry Goldsmith or Basil Poledouris. There’s a blurb by George RR Martin on the cover that refers to the book as “a kick-ass space opera”, and that is exactly what it is.

What’s interesting about Leviathan Wakes is that it is set in our own solar system, and nowhere else. This is a space opera with no FTL drive, and the first attempt at a Generation Ship has yet to be launched. Despite this, there is tension galore, action a-plenty, and a good amount of explodey-spaceshippy goodness. There are revolutionaries and government agents, there’s a down-on-his-luck detective who is as hard-boiled as they come, there’s a noir-ish search for a missing girl, there is war between Earth and Mars, and, believe it or not, there are SF-nally plausible zombies. This book is a heady mix.

The book begins with a young woman finding herself the only survivor of a vicious attack on her spaceship; soon after, her parents lean on an asteroid belt detective to find out why she has disappeared, while another innocent industrial ship happens on the wreck of the ship from the first scene. From these two threads, the authors put together an impressive show that gradually becomes bigger and bigger in scope until, at the end of the book, there are startling implications for all humanity. Best of all, the book leaves a lot of places where the sequels can go.

Leviathan Wakes is terrific storytelling, aided and abetted by a lot of snappy dialogue and interesting characters for whom we both root and wince when they take the wrong turn. If you’re looking for an extremely well-crafted entertainment, Leviathan Wakes is it.

And that, folks, will probably finish me up for space opera for a little while, aside from a couple of short stories. I’m actually taking a month to not read any novels at all; just short fiction and poetry. After that, my plan is to spend a good chunk of the winter OD’ing on fantasy, possibly to the extent of doing a complete re-read of George RR Martin’s A Song of Ice and Fire to this point. As tends to be my case, my mood tends to go from “spaceships and blasters, ahoy!” to “Castles and swords and maidens, swoon!” when the weather starts to go cold.

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Books without exploding spaceships are pointless crap.

My Summer of Space Opera continues!
:: Iain M. Banks’s ongoing series of space operas set in The Culture – hence the term, the “Culture Novels” – still represent mostly a rich field of unsurveyed reading for me, but I’ve at least knocked off another of them: Consider Phlebas. This is actually the first-written of the Culture novels, but, after Player of Games, the second I’ve read. My understanding is that the Culture novels mostly comprise stand-alone stories, so reading order may not matter all that much, although I do plan to mostly stick with the publication order, as much as I can.
Consider Phlebas tells the story of Bora Horza Gobuchul, a “Changer” – an alien who can take on the appearance of other humanoid beings – who is actually working for the Idiran Empire during their galaxy-spanning war against the Culture. He is rescued by the Idirans, who task him with recovering a Culture Mind (a disembodied intelligence) that has stranded itself on one of the Planets of the Dead. Gobuchul’s pursuit of his mission is pretty singular-minded, and along the way, he commits a large number of acts that fall into various places on the moral spectrum. This moral ambiguity on the part of the protagonist makes the book compelling in an interesting way, as Banks makes it hard to root against Gobuchul even as he is doing things that are, admittedly, less-than-moral.
The other notable aspect of the book, fitting enough for a space opera, is the Big Epic Scope of the thing. This is “widescreen” SF at its finest, with intelligent spaceships being flown into and out of artificial constructs that are so big it becomes difficult to imagine some of them. The morals of war are called into question, as well, as one such enormous object – called an Orbital – is slated for destruction by the Culture for no other reason than the fact that they have deemed it too hard to strategically defend, so therefore, it must be destroyed before the Idirans can capture it.
Consider Phlebas is very fast-paced, moving from one set-piece to the next fairly quickly, which is nice because there are a couple of set-pieces – most notably, the cannibal-cult Gobuchul finds himself captured by – that are a bit distasteful.
:: I’ve mentioned before that, in terms of genre classification, we have “space opera”, which obviously involves at least a good portion of the story taking place in space. For stories that are similar in feel and scope to space opera but mainly stay on a single planet – Burroughs’s “John Carter of Mars” novels are good examples – we have the term “planetary romance”.
I’m at a loss, though, as to what to call Ryk E. Spoor’s novel Grand Central Arena, which takes place primarily neither in space nor on a planet. Spoor creates something else, an incredibly vast setting, called…”The Arena”. It’s here that his story plays out. Spoor’s dedication of the novel – to E.E. “Doc” Smith – indicates as much as anything what he is up to here: he is writing a novel of Grand Adventure.
As the novel opens, humans are about to test their very first faster-than-light drive, in a spaceship called the Holy Grail (heh – FTL travel being, of course, the ‘holy grail’ of SF writers). A crew of eight is selected (for their various skills, of course), led by pilot Ariane Austin, who becomes the de facto Captain when the ship emerges from supralight speed into…something. Something bigger than huge; something impossibly vast, which, as they explore, turns out to be full of thousands, if not millions, of other alien species. It turns out that someone has configured things such that any time a species attempts FTL travel, they end up in the Arena, a place where interactions between species can be influenced and controlled by unknown benefactors, where allegiances can be formed and enimites fostered. Their first ally describes the Arena thusly:

It is a place where we all meet and challenge, where bargains are made and broken and avenged, where an alliance may be built on blood and fortune. It is a place where faith is lost, and where religions are founded or proven true. It is where you shall confront, and be confronted by, truths and lies, enemies and allies, belief and denial, impossibility and transcendence.

So, of course, our heroes venture forth and meet many beings, some of whom are allies, some of whom seem to be allies but are really enemies, some of whom seem to be enemies but are really allies, some of whom are enemies outright, and some who just don’t seem to care one way or the other. Grand Central Arena is loaded with scope and scale, as well as action, intrigue, and a bit of romance, as well. There are more than a few moments of the “Ye Gods, how do they get out of this!” variety. It’s a long novel – nearly 700 pages – but with the exception of a few infodumps along the way, the book is mostly very kinetic in nature as crisis begets crisis begets crisis, with very real and likeable characters (including one fellow with a shadowy past who is literally superhuman, in positive and negative ways). I’ve never been terribly fond of describing a book as a “page-turner”, but that descriptor is very apt for Grand Central Arena.

And yes, the title of this post is a joke. Yeesh, people!

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Charting the Progress


Charting the Progress, originally uploaded by Jaquandor.

It’s been a long time since I wrote about my progress (or lack thereof) on the fiction writing front, so here’s an update. This photo is a screengrab of the spreadsheet I use to track the word count of the Novel-in-Progress (code-named, Princesses In SPACE!). I’ve been trying to hit a personal quota of 500 words a day, which has produced close to 90,000 words as of this writing.

I generally try to aim for chapters that aren’t too terribly long, but aren’t ridiculously short, either. I’ve read a few books that had over a hundred chapters that were two or three pages each, and that always bugs me, for some reason — it just makes the book feel herky-jerky. But the other way — really long chapters — doesn’t do it for me, either. I’m trying to stick in the middle.

I also had an original goal of keeping my chapters roughly in the same ballpark, in terms of length, but that hasn’t worked out quite so well. The early chapters are fairly brief, but they get longer after chapter ten. Maybe this isn’t a problem; I don’t end chapters for length specifically, but I do try to end them on logical breaking points.

So: I have almost 88,000 words in. Right under that total, I have an entry labeled MMPB and another labeled TWMF. What’s this about?

Well, MMPB stands for “Mass Market Paper Back”. The publishing industry uses word count as its standard measure for book length, for many good reasons; but sometimes I just find it nice to be able to figure where I am, roughly, if the book was to actually be printed. Now, this can vary a lot with considerations such as the font used and the print size, but I generally assume that a mass-market paperback novel will have roughly 400 words a page. So, that entry is simply the total word count divided by 400.

TWMF? Well…this is purely a conceit of mine, just an effort to try to remind myself not to get too long-winded in telling this tale. This bit of division yields to me the rough whereabouts of my story as compared with Patrick Rothfuss’s The Wise Man’s Fear, which is a really long book. TWMF, then, refers to the page I would be on if my book were printed like the Advance Review Copy I have of Rothfuss’s doorstop of a novel. Luckily I’m nowhere near where he ended up for length, and I’m unlikely to get there. I hope to have the first draft, when it’s complete, somewhere between 160,000 and 180,000 words. Maybe less, if that’s the way the story unfolds.

So, there we go. Hooray for Space Princesses!

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Is the space opera over when the fat alien lady sings?

MD Jackson links this IO9 piece by Charlie Jane Anders about the fact that space opera has all but disappeared from filmed entertainment these days. It’s really a shame, I think, and I hate to think its partly reflective of a general slackening of interest in space, but I think there’s something to that.

Two depressing facts became apparent the other day: 1) NASA is so desperate to get people excited about space travel, they were willing to consider collaborating on the horror mockumentary Apollo 18. 2) The fall 2011 season is the first time there’s been no TV show, on any network, featuring people on spaceships, since probably the mid-1980s.
What’s happened to us? We haven’t just lost our space shuttle program, we’ve lost our zest for space adventure altogether, at least in TV and movies. How can we get our love for space opera back?

How do we get it back? I have no idea, unfortunately. This is because I’m just not sure where the love of space opera initially came from. Space opera was a staple in science fiction well before rocket launches became commonplace, but did space opera as a serious going concern in mass entertainment really exist much before Star Trek or Star Wars? I’m not sure they did. I’m just glad that space opera continues to be big in SF books.

I suspect a number of factors, not the least of which is our fairly lame space program right now. But manned space travel isn’t going to stop, and if private outfits like the SpaceShipX people or that crazy Virgin guy who likes to spend huge amounts of money on stuff (like spaceships) make headway, I think we may see a resurgence of interest. I remember that line in Apollo 13: “You guys have made going to the Moon about as exciting as a trip to Pittsburgh.”

Now, I actually like Pittsburgh and taking trips there, but that’s beside the point. One big reason that the space program hasn’t done much for firing imaginations over the last batch of years is that the ships haven’t been going anyplace new. The spaceships keep going to Low Earth Orbit, and the pictures they send back all look the same. The planet’s always the same size, the astronauts floating in zero-grav look the same, it’s all the same. Anything new is coming from the robots. Which is fine…it’s great, actually…but every time a robot goes someplace new and sends back gigabytes upon gigabytes of fascinating information, it can’t help but psychologically pose the question, “Why do we need spaceships at all?”

And without any real reason for people to be there, there’s no real reason to tell stories about them, is there?

Another part of the problem is that imaginative storytelling in filmed entertainment seems to be the exclusive province of Fantasy these days, which again is fine, but for every fantasy flick that gets made and becomes a hit, that’s a SF movie that’s not getting made. Even the resurgence of interest in Star Wars, over the course of the Prequel trilogy, wasn’t enough to lead to a Space Opera rebirth in film, because (a) reaction to the Prequels was mixed and (b) folks are starting to see Star Wars as mainly fantasy, anyway.

It seems to me that there is also the Hollywood “copycat” syndrome to blame for all of this. Starting in the late 1990s, the Harry Potter books exploded onto the scene, which then, in 2001, showed up as successful movies. At the same time, The Lord of the Rings arrived onscreen, and the success of both these high quality franchises really primed the fantasy pump. At the same time, the superhero movie became big doings, with Spiderman finally reaching the big screen and Batman returning. I think a part of space opera’s fade in Hollywood is partly just because some other stuff came along.

Will space opera come back in a big way? Maybe, maybe not. I don’t think it’ll ever be gone forever, though, from filmed entertainment. And there’s a big bright side here, as well: we know that Hollywood is increasingly unwilling to come up with ideas of its own. Well, when they do want to tackle space opera again, they will find a lot of space opera books waiting to be optioned and turned into movies. What will goose Hollywood into getting back in the space opera mood, however? That, unfortunately, is something I’m not sure of. It might take a space opera equivalent of Harry Potter to do it. Therefore, someone needs to write that. I wonder who might be crazy enough to give that mission a whirl….

Anyway, I don’t have any major answers here…but the article is interesting. Check it out, those of you with any passing interest in SF in general or space opera in particular.

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