Star Trek: The Next Generation–season 3

Ironically in the fall of 1989 I had gone to a Doctor Who Day at Book King in Federal Way, Washington. Back when I was single, Book King had these get togethers for fans every weekend, and I attended as often as I could. Everyone was seated in this little room in the back of the bookstore, except instead of Doctor Who, the group was sharing a couple of episodes from the new season of TNG. This time around the show came out of the gate running and didn’t stop for the next three seasons.

One of the episodes they screened was “The Survivors”, which showed the embrace of bold ideas to go along with the always excellent f/x. They kept the plot twist close to the sleeve, positing a mystery: how did this lone elderly couple survive a planetary bombardment that eradicated all other life? Counselor Troi meanwhile was slowly driven mad by the incessant music of a tiny music box she had never heard before. In fact, no one had survived, including the wife of the older man—in reality a godlike being who in a moment of grief wiped out the invaders throughout the universe. For one of the few times in Trek history, this was a deity with a conscience who relieved the suffering he’d inflicted on Troi. Picard could do nothing but let him go to recreate the woman he loved, and to just leave him alone. And that’s one of the first episodes. It keeps going.

Season Three of the Original Series suffered from subpar writing, some of the worst of any Trek series. Gene Roddenberry had been bumped to executive producer, while Fred Freiberger became the new line producer.  NBC had changed TOS’ time slot to 10 pm—on Fridays, a death slot for any series. Worst of all, the show had lost the sense of humor it was known for. By contrast, by its third season TNG had hit its stride. At least in my hometown, TNG was given a time slot of 7 pm on Saturday nights, and it never moved from that spot.

On September 25, 1989, the worm had turned. Rather than being The Original Series’ poor second cousin, in many ways The Next Generation surpassed it. Star Trek V had been a disappointment that summer. It was one of two movies I’d seen in one day in July of ’89. I’d had a very bad day; all I’ll say is that my brother and I had a falling out which ended with me stomping outside and smashing my windshield—with my bare fist. But enough of that for now.

The revolving door of scriptwriters that had plagued TNG’s first season, and the rewrites imposed by Gene Roddenberry were past. Briefly, Michael Piller was promoted to head of the writing staff, which brought a much-needed stability to the script process. Rick Berman became the chief of day-to-day operations. New costume designer Bob Blackman oversaw a redesign of outfits into real regimental uniforms a space service might issue, though not necessarily any more comfortable for the actors. Hence the birth of what fans refer to as ‘the Picard Maneuver’, where Patrick Stewart pulls his tunic down every time he has to stand up.

Blackman also rendered a one-piece version for the woman, which meant no more legs! A new title segment began this season showing an incoming montage from the Milky Way, instead of the departure angle used in the first two seasons. Best of all, Gates McFadden was back for good as Dr. Beverly Crusher.

This year we encountered aliens who really seemed …ALIEN. Tin Man. The Sheliak. A Douwd. What was also new was that the Enterprise-D encountered more people who were absolutely unreasonable; who were so locked into their own positions, they wouldn’t even consider the facts presented to them, even when said facts will endanger their lives. “The Ensigns of Command”, “The High Ground”, “The Wounded” and “Transfigurations” come to mind. The writing is sharper, the dialogue less formal and more natural; that was reflected in the return of Star Trek’s sense of humor. The crew often were not just put to the test, they were frequently put into life-threatening situations.  

Every season has had its timey-wimey excursions (“We’ll Always Have Paris” and “Time Squared”, for example) where Time is out of sync. “Yesterday’s Enterprise” is a real mindwarp, bleeding seamlessly into a dark version of our universe, where the Federation is on the verge of collapse from a war with the Klingons. And no one is aware of what’s happened, except for Guinan. Even she can’t explain why, she only knows THIS-IS-WRONG! This is the one and only time we see the Enterprise-C, and the consequences of its falling through a time warp in the midst of battle would be catastrophic. Because this is an alternate timeline, they were able to bring back Tasha Yar, at least one version of her, and give her an ending with some dignity. The ramifications of this version’s death would roil through our timeline for seasons to come. Believe me, there is death and destruction enough here to satisfy the most die-hard pew-pew fan.

I’m embarrassed to re-read my old diary entries from this time. I seemed very petty and childish then. In 1990 I made it to two conventions, Rustycon 007 in January, and my third Norwescon, no. 12 in April 1990. My friends said I was a virgin when I came to my first sci-fi convention. Four cons in I guess I still was, considering they pinned a condom on the back of my stage pass. I was serving as a volunteer this time, though to be honest I remember very little of that. Rustycon had some good highlights. My friends were all there: Michael Scanlon, Chris and J. Steven York, and Jack and Fran Beslanwitch. The difference between the Sheraton where Norwescon was held and the Radisson, where we had Rustycon was the ambient noise level. There wasn’t a continuous drone of voices at the Radisson, only people’s quiet whispers. For a socially awkward person like me, that’s grand.

Apparently I’d gone to the dance, according to my diary, though odds are I sat in the back. Socially I was like Reginald Barclay. Mark Skullard had put together a fun panel on old Science Fiction radio programs. The lines in those shows were so melodramatic, the plots so preposterous even in the first couple of minutes we couldn’t help laughing. Here’s a shoutout to George Smith, who somehow showed up at nearly every panel I went to.

I met Rebecca Neason at this con, God rest her, at the Victorian SF/ Steampunk panel. She was a very sweet, social lady who kept getting tagged for panels when no one else would show up to empanel them. She was working on her first TNG novel, Guise of the Mind, which would be published in 1993. She and Donna Barr hosted a panel on Mythical Creatures. Apparently only the three of us were attending. Donna Barr has a very black sense of humor; she had me and Rebecca in near hysterics.

Curiously I don’t remember any TNG parodies at this year’s convention. Boy, at LAST year’s con we had a doozy, “Star Trek: Another Regeneration”. This was a taped radio program put together by two British chaps and sent over to Canada’s “The Ether Show”. (I hadn’t mentioned this in my last blog because I hadn’t found my diaries from that time period before.}

I squat on the floor of Room 1906 along with everyone who wasn’t seated on the bed. This had to be the best part of Norwescon 11 for me; this was a hilarious parody of “Farpoint”. Example: Riker has gone to the holodeck to fetch Data. The computer warned him this would be inadvisable, Commander Data was in the Atlantic Ocean simulation. Riker responds, “I don’t care, just let me in!” So it does, and “WHOOOSH!” The saucer section has also accidentally been separated from the ship, so Riker jams the two pieces together. “Make it fit!” he says, sooo, “SHRIIIEEEK!” until Data nonchalantly reports, “Reconnection complete, sir.”

The most badass character for season 3 has to be Jean Luc Picard. Diplomacy becomes a weapon in “The Ensigns of Command”, where he uses the same treaty the Sheliak have been beating him over the head with against them. “You enjoyed that,” Riker says, to which Picard retorts, “Damn right.” “Who Watches the Watchers?” is the story where the Prime Directive is not simply bent, it’s twisted out of shape. It’s the one where Picard is mistaken for a god. He takes an arrow to the shoulder, willingly, to prove his mortality.

He’s also cunning when he wants to be. While investigating a possible Romulan base in the Neutral Zone on the word of a high-ranking defector, the Enterprise-D finds herself surrounded by three Romulan warbirds. With a word to Worf, the tables turn after three Klingon warbirds decloak on the warbirds’ flanks. “Shall we die together?” Picard challenges. When the Argosian Prime Minister Nayrok finally asks for help after rebuffing Picard for the entire episode, Picard cites the Prime Directive and just leaves (“The Hunted”).

Picard’s role as Patriarch of the Enterprise-D has never been more clearly defined than in “The Bonding”, which reminds us there are children on board, and their lives are just as fragile when a loved one dies. As he reminds Jeremy Aster, “no one on the Enterprise is alone”. To save Jeremy from an alien who wants to take him away to live on the planet, Picard calls together all the crew members who understand loss all too well. For Wesley Crusher this is a brutal reminder of his father’s death, and he admits for the first time that he was angry at Picard for surviving. I know that feeling; that was the moment that Wesley became a real person to me.

The Patriarchal role suits him when Data takes the ultimate step to becoming human, by creating his own child, Lal (“The Offspring”). In another first, this is the first episode in Trek history to be directed by a cast member, in this case Jonathan Frakes. When another asshole admiral wants to take Lal away to study, he responds, “There are times, sir, when men of good conscience cannot blindly follow orders. You acknowledge their sentience, but you ignore their personal liberties and freedom. Order a man to hand his child over to the state? Not while I am his captain.” Having had a child ripped from my family, I feel for them, and I love Picard for taking that stand.

By now his crew is so tight that with only a look, the bridge crew knows exactly what to do after aliens intrude on the bridge (“Allegiance”). Patrick Stewart’s hunger for more actions scenes bears fruit in both “Captain’s Holiday” and “The High Ground”, where he actually punches a terrorist on the bridge of the Enterprise. He becomes Worf’s cha’Dich, a ritual defender, when Kurn is attacked and injured in “Sins of the Father”. No, Picard is taking no shit this time around.

Worf may have been the cast member who experienced the most growth. Dare I say it, I think he became an actual character. I’ll explain. It was established in the first two seasons that he was a warrior, well versed in the ways of Klingons, a heritage he takes exceptional pride in. Beyond that, excepting two episodes, his role was not given the depth it deserved. In a sense he was a caricature much like Frank Burns in M.A.S.H. By its 5th season Frank had pretty much become a petty narrow-minded bigot, an overzealous ‘patriot’ with little to no depth.

So it was with Worf. He had been portrayed as a proud warrior, who frequently got his ass whupped by a stronger opponent. This season he became flesh and blood. Like Frank Burns, Worf is also burdened with prejudice–against Romulans, in this case. Given the chance to save a dying Romulan by giving a blood transfusion, Worf stubbornly refuses (“The Enemy”). To be fair, his prejudice is reciprocated by the Romulan as he dies. In “The Bonding”, out of guilt for an unavoidable tragedy, Worf attempts to bond with the orphaned Jeremy Aster. “Deja Q” proves he’s still king of the one-liners; when Q insists he’s human and shouts what do I have to do to convince you people, Worf replies, “Die.” In “Transfigurations” he plays the role of Lazarus raised from the dead by space Jesus.

With “Sins of the Father”, Worf’s story becomes epic. Treachery within the Klingon High Council brings a challenge Worf must answer to clear his father’s name. But the truth can’t come out; the traitor who betrayed the Klingons to the Romulans has friends on the High Council, which would lead to civil unrest. Only Worf’s discommendation temporarily prevents a Klingon civil war. We’re introduced not only to his brother Kurn but to the family of Duras, a name we’d come to despise in every Trek series to come.

The Ferengi make three appearances, primarily as irritants, moving closer to the comedic foils they’d master in DS9. No longer treated as a ‘major military threat’ to the Federation, they resort to deceit, and poison to narrow the field of bidders in “The Price”. If there’s any justice, a couple of those Ferengi are lost in the Delta Quadrant until their return in ST: Voyager. Michael Grodenchik debuts as Sovak, a pushy trader who deserves the punch in the face Picard delivers. (He would eventually play Quark’s dim brother Rom on DS9). “Menage A Troi” is a case of unrequited lust on the part of a demented Damon, although it finally gives Majel Barrett the opportunity to shine as the eternally flirty Lwaxana Troi. Ethan Philips makes his Trek debut there as Dr. Farek; we’d know him better in a later role, as Neelix on Voyager.

“Hollow Pursuits” introduces us to Reginald Barclay. Like him, I’m socially awkward, though I couldn’t articulate that in 1989. Reg is the guy who sits in the back of the room at parties, trying to blend in while seated next to a potted plant. That’s me. Maybe his escape into Holodiction is something else we have in common; don’t all us writers do that, though not in an actual physical expression? When the series originally came out on VHS, they were released as single episodes. The only tapes I collected were “The Royale” (season 2), “The Offspring” and “Hollow Pursuits”.

Reg was a challenge for Geordi to overcome his disdain and encourage Reg to put his mind to work in ‘the real world’. Troi also tries to guide him, up to the point that she meets the Goddess of Empathy. Then it’s “muzzle it!” The first time I saw this episode was at Jack & Fran’s house in Renton for a Writer’s Cramp meeting. We’re at the point where Picard himself accidentally calls Reg “Broccoli”. Data is saying, “Metathesis is the most common of pronunciation errors, sir, the reversal of vowels. ‘Boc’ to ‘Broc’—” At this point, Picard just glares, and as Data suddenly bends over a console, Fran said, “shut up, Data.” And that is usually the first response everybody gives when viewing that scene: “shut up, Data!”

Somehow I missed “Sarek” when it was originally broadcast. I didn’t find out about it until years later, after the series had ended. It was cool that they brought Mark Lenard back to the role, weaving another connection to the Original Series.

To close the season, they began a new tradition with the cliffhanger to end all cliffhangers, and honestly, I don’t think TNG ever came up with a better one. This led one fan to scream at Piller from his car, “You ruined my summer!” “The Best of Both Worlds” begins with a disturbing graphic. Riker’s away team beams down to a colony in distress, supposedly in the middle of downtown, where all that greets us is a crater.

Twin plotlines parallel each other. The Borg are coming, and we are nowhere near prepared for them. Meanwhile Commander Riker questions his priorities as he turns down yet another command, and Picard has to call him on the carpet for it. The issue would be ludicrous in any real-world military service; Piller’s script addresses that here. Riker is a man grown comfortable, loyal, and apparently will settle for nothing less than the Enterprise. Although this was not how he wanted it. He also faces a foil in Commander Shelby, a cocky young woman whose ambition is only exceeded by her impetuousness. And she pointedly tells Riker, “You’re in my way.”

This is only the second time we’ve encountered the Borg, who remain a great unknown, hostile in purpose even while they’re devoid of intent. It is not spoilers now to declare this as the most distressing cliffhanger in Trek history, perhaps one of the greatest in television history. Picard steps forward on board the Borg cube as Locutus, his voice lifeless as he states, “Your life as it has been is over. From this time forward, you will service…us.”  The camera pans around to Riker, who says, “Mr. Worf…fire.”

And then— ‘To Be Continued’??? ARRRRRGHHHH! In June 1990 we were all going, “What—WHAT?” That would be the longest summer for all Trek fans everywhere. In this one season this crew had become beloved, a part of the family, and we didn’t know if they were going to be blown apart or not. Will Picard survive—COULD he? This would be the nail-biter dogging us for the longest summer ever.

Review: All Boys Aren’t Blue by George M. Johnson

I’m a little disappointed here. I was led to believe there was some pornography involved, and I’ll be damned if I can find ANY pornographic material AT ALL!!!

Truth be told, I had two reasons to read Mr. Johnson’s excellent book. One, he’s a fellow author and I’m going to support him. Two, I was told by some jackass in Florida, the guv or some flake, that I wasn’t allowed to. So I said, pfff, that so? Try an’ stop me, Desantutts.

I think the reason All Boys Aren’t Blue is on conservatives’ hit list is that it’s truthful. That’s probably the same reason Huckleberry Finn, The Grapes of Wrath, The Diary of Anne Frank and so many more have been banned and are being banned this very second. A good book is truthful and shines an unpleasant light on the reality of our society. Though to be honest, All Boys Aren’t Blue is not unpleasant reading at all. Far from it.

This is a memoir for young adults; it’s probably too mature for preschoolers, but that’s not the point here. It’s about a young black man growing up, finding his queerness but frequently having to suppress himself. The author is not alone. The prevalent theme in his story is family. Back in the 1970’s my brothers used to say if someone messed with someone in our family, we could get about a hundred people together to settle this. We had a lot of more of us then; I don’t know if that’s true now.

George Johnson has always had the support of his family; brothers, cousins, parents. And especially his Nanny, his grandma, that older person every family relies on; the one who takes you to flea markets, teaches you stuff, encourages you in everything you do, and is always proud of you, no matter what. That’s what family is for, to tease you, rough-house, to fight with and to fight for you

There are a couple of cuss words, not to excess. I can get more profanity from a Star Trek movie. A couple of chapters made me uncomfortable, maybe because these were private things you don’t ordinarily share with the world. You’ll find out, if you have the courage to read it. My discomfort is not the point. What matters is representation, and I believe George Johnson has done a hellava job.

I Hope My Grandchildren Forgive You

I hope my grandchildren forgive you    

for what you brought on our land  

for the world we leave to them

Forgive the desert that was once California  

the parched land and tongues of ordinary souls  

rationed to a few drips a day  

or will that be a week, who knows?

Forgive the 30 years wasted in deceit and denial  

while simulations became fact

and facts piled on facts  

and opportunities to act became wasted in dithering politics

And to the passing of the Floridas  

while salt of sea infiltrated our children’s drinking supplies  

I fear not for New Orleans, she’ll adapt  

she always does

Forgive us the storms like no other   

coming to a landmark near you   

New York barraged by tides she’ll not soon forget   

Lady Liberty will stand as a beacon still   

even waist deep in the ocean

I certainly hope they can find it in their hearts   

to forgive your cowardice, your avarice,  

your blind blinkered stupidity   

‘Cos God knows I won’t

What’s your problem?

I’m trying to understand something. I don’t know why we’re still talking about it. Seriously, what is everyone’s problem with Jews?

I’ve never been hurt by anyone of the Jewish faith. I’ve never been robbed, bamboozled or financially taken advantage of by said people. If its the tenets and/or rituals they practice, oooh boy have you looked at the Catholic Church lately? I have one rule regarding my level of hate, and that is, I reserve it for anyone who acts like an asshole.

Oh wait, I get it. It’s that business where Jesus was condemned by all the Jews in Jerusalem way back in the Stone Age, Roman Age whatever. One question…how do you know that’s what happened?

The Gospels of Matthew, Mark & Luke, were written second-hand, according to tradition, according to the testimony said to come from Peter and Paul. The only gospel written by an actual apostle was that of John the beloved–again, ACCORDING TO TRADITION. Which proves nothing, as these books were transcribed a hundred years after Jesus’ resurrection.

Putting that aside, I’m supposed to believe that every single Jew in the city rose up against Jesus, after all the miracles he bestowed, after raising both Lazarus and the daughter of Jairus from the dead? I say unto you, IDBY. It certainly wasn’t true of Joseph of Arimathea–you know, the guy who provided the tomb where Jesus lay until his resurrection?

Even IF that were so, which I doubt, so what? That was 2,000 years ago. The Jews of today weren’t alive then. Their ANCESTORS weren’t alive then. In the Mormon church we have an interesting set of guidelines, known as the Articles of Faith. You may be interested in Article no. 2, to wit, “We believe that men will be punished for their own sins, and not for Adam’s transgression.” Whoever killed Jesus, 81 generations ago, they ain’t alive anymore. You can’t hold their descendants responsible.

As for that BS that “eww, Jews own everything, they control everything”, I’m not even wasting time on that nonsense. Elon Musk was raised in an Evangelical family and now is agnostic. Rupert Murdoch professes to be Christian. The Koch brothers are Catholic. The actual number of billionaires following the Jewish faith is closer to 19.8%-30%.

https://www.quora.com/How-come-50-of-billionaires-in-the-USA-are-Jewish-when-Jewish-people-only-make-up-1-4-of-population

I’m not expecting to convert any haters; if you’re convinced of some bullshit conspiracy theory, nothing I say is going to help you. But I’m not going to be silent about it either.

Barack Obama A Promised Land review

This has been a hard book to get through. It’s not a difficult read; President Obama has a way of drawing you in, making the hard choices easy to understand. His conversational skills haven’t failed him.

I suppose the problem, for me, was that I remember those years and the bullshit thrown at both he and his wife Michelle. For the first time Obama seems free to express his frustrations and disbelief not only at the continual obstructionism, but also his personal struggle with racism.

What’s also made it hard is the fact that the same dipshits are still in Congress, still spewing the same toxic nonsense they had 12 years ago. If anything, the recent crop of Republicans is 100 percent worse.

I’ve gone on but honestly, it is worth the read. We are guided from his early days as a senator, on through the first presidential campaign in 2008, and closing with…nahh, I won’t spoil it. Can’t wait for the second volume. Cheers.

Fair Game by Valerie Plame Wilson: review

This has been my first opportunity to read a book as heavily redacted as this. That’s okay, this edition has a lengthy afterword by progressive journalist Laura Rozen to fill in the blanks. For instance, ms. Plame’s decision to become a NOC officer in the CIA.

 

If you recall from the first Mission: Impossible movie, a list of NOC agents was up for grabs which would’ve released their actual names to the spy world. In a crude inversion of life imitating cinema, what Tom Cruise was trying to prevent in that movie was exactly what Scooter Libby and Vice President Dick Cheney did to Valerie Plame.

Evidently the CIA has no romance in its heart either, as her courtship and marriage to Ambassador Joseph Wilson was deemed too sensitive to declassify. I’m still trying to get it in my head how the particulars of their relationship would be damaging to US foreign relations and intelligence gathering.

I’m grateful ms. Plame wrote this book. It’s a refreshing reminder to those seeing George W. Bush in a revisionist light, that his administration was just as corrupt as the current one. That his actions regarding Iraq and the Wilsons in particular were nothing less than pure evil. And I am frustrated that no one was held to account, that what Libby and senior Bush officials did in outing ms. Plame was an act of TREASON. Read it. It’s essential.

Elton John a perspective

elton-john-eyewear-bb13-beat-2019-billboard-1548

“Rocket Man ” was the first Elton John song that I fell in love with. It wasn’t even mine, my brother Kenny bought it, god rest his soul. The first single I bought on my own was “Daniel”, which I traded away. I guess I was disappointed at the time because it wasn’t a rocket like lot of his stuff was. Today I can say, “you IDIOT, why would you give that record away? It was a great song!” Maybe I share Elton’s lack of judgement; in his recent book Me, he admits that he thought “Don’t Let The Sun Go Down On Me ” was a terrible song: funny how things will look so different in retrospect.

elton-john-rocket-man-1972-15    elton john daniel

He was fortunate to have ‘come out ‘ in 1967, the very year that the UK struck down its law making homosexuality illegal. Or we should say he was Found out by his boss Long John Baldry: “Oh come on, don’t you know you’re gay?”(or words to that effect).

It never bothered me that Elton was bi or gay or whatever. I just loved the music, his preferences were his own business. Gay wasn’t a thing people talked about when I was growing up, at least not around me, so I didn’t have a chance to be indoctrinated by anybody’s paranoid ravings. It’s just funny now. For instance I always liked Queen from the beginning and I never got the gay reference in their very name. Didn’t know, didn’t care. Those fellas could still rock.

Elton’s early records came out on the Uni label, a division of MCA Records, which is how his early singles like “Rocket Man ” looked like that in America but by the time “Daniel ” came along everything was on that black MCA label.

Oddly enough the songs I listened to first weren’t actually sung by Elton. “Lady Samantha” was a song I loved and picked up on my dad’s Three Dog Night record from 1969, ‘Suitable For Framing “. I remember we were at his cabin in Lake Land Village,  a development over the Tacoma Narrows Bridge near Allyn, Washington. Three Dog Night was also the first band I heard doing “Your Song ” on an album I got for Christmas of 1971, “Golden Biscuits “. Elton’s version was already a year old by then.

ELTONMUP

Of course he was also notable for announcing that he was retiring, and then coming right out of retirement a few months later. For some reason retirement just didn’t seem to take with Elton. The first time he said that was 1976 or ’77: didn’t last long.  He’d be in a slump for a while but that was okay: he’d give himself a jumpstart like his live Melbourne shows in ’86 or ‘The Lion King ‘ soundtrack.

Maybe I also liked Elton because he wore glasses.  So did John Denver but see the thing was, in the 1970s glasses were not sexy. I always wore glasses and I was never good at sports at any level of schooling. If you wore glasses, you were a four eyes: if you couldn’t play ball, you  were a faggot–sorry, their words.

elton john glasses 1    elton's glasses.4 jpg  elton's glasses 1974

Elton wore ’em, so did John Lennon. Not only that but Elton made them a fashion statement.  He had a gift for flamboyance unmatched in the rock world,  which is saying something considering it was par for the course with acts like David Bowie and KISS on the loose. I always appreciated Elton’s music and his example, and I thought I’d say so now.

The foregoing was inspired by Elton John ‘s 2019 biography Me, published by Henry Holt and Company.

me elton john book

A Beginning [fragment]

[Hello there. This was something I scribbled one night for a project that may or may not ever come to fruition, bringing together all my female characters. Just for the hell of it I’m throwing it out here. See what you think. Enjoy.–Mike.]

She pushed herself up from the pile of bodies, wrinkling her nostrils against the sulfar stench wafting up from the lowlands. She stood tall, her cinammon-skin already damp with perspiration. Someone had thoughtfully provided a tight pair of snakeskin trunks, while leaving her feet bare. Next time, she mused, I get to pick my outfit.

Perhaps it was still night, Jamai thought. Somehow she knew this purple skyline with her roiling storm clouds had always been so. All it needed was a cliché bolt of–

Holie!” And here it comes, grounded to the lightning rod her small companion thrust into the catwalk at the last second. A blinding flash illuminated her in white silhouette, but in all respects she appeared unharmed.

“Hah! Take that, you dinkoff! Nobody beats science around here!” After taking one quick around, she added to herself, “God willing.” None the less, her khaki shorts and dingy white safari blouse appeared undamaged.

“Well played, sister,” Jamai smiled, taking Kiana Richards’ hand.

“It was nothing special,” Kiana shrugged, flicking her neck-length auburn hair back from her face. “These things were just lying on the catwalk. It just seemed like the thing to do. One question…”

“Yes. Where are we?”

“Exactly where you need to be,” another voice intruded. Another sister. Her bootsteps rattled on the catwalk’s struts, shaking the fragile structure and sending sympathetic shivers through all their bodies. The violet skinsuit graced all her best features, while the window cut into the chest fabric did nothing to hide her globes.

“Lianna,” Jamai nodded.

Kiana did the same, adding, “This is gonna get confusing fast. So tell me, we were all called together for a reason, or fell out of time or some crap?”

“No need to get snarky, red.” A collective startle jumped up into their hearts as they jerked to the right. Another blonde like Lianna crouched on the handrail, honey-tinged this time. But even in this dank light she was pale beyond reason, the tips of her fangs dimpling the corners of her lips. Leather cloaked her from those wetlook leggings to the slinky coat on her back. “Hi there. I’m Vye.” Nudging Jamai’s forearm, she said, “Hi again, bosoms. Been a while.”

To the others she said this. “It’s probably appropriate that I’m here at least. Take a look down.”

Her gaze angled over the rail. Together the three of them joined Vye in peeking twenty stories down to the field of lava breathing acrid fumes below. A dark crust formed over a large proportion of the landscape, but there remained bubbling honeypots oozing fresh magma. And towards the east, from their position at least, there heaved a maw filled with stalactite teeth, wide enough to gorge on an elephant.

“Let me guess,” Kiana whistled. “That’s the devil himself.”

“I’m going for something more general,” Vye replied. “Evil from before the dawn of time.”

“And what say you, Godwalker?”

This was getting to be such a regular occurrence, the ladies simply joined in a mutual sag, then turned to greet the new intruders. Apparently this was to be the first man on their team, a husky fellow in buckskin breeches and waistcoat over a plain white shirt, with moccasins and a leather sash girding his Bowie knife.

“Welcome, Jeremiah,” Lianna grinned. “You’re just in time. Bring the reinforcements?” He nodded.

As the portal opened wide behind him, Kiana asked, “Excuse me. Godwalker?”                     “Just a nickname,” Lianna squirmed.

“You don’t say,” Jamai queried with her raised eyebrows.

Throwing up her hands, Lianna elaborated. “All right, I may have met some Hindu gods, and they were kind to me…”

“Hah! More like they fondled you!” Vye laughed.

“So wait…are we all…dead?” Kiana whispered.

“Only some of us, lass!” spoke the tall Irish beauty striding from the portal, flowing skirt trailing her. Beside her a girl of Chinese-American descent practically skipped to keep pace. Besides her TV-Western cowboy outfit, she also lugged a Santa Claus-sized bag across her right shoulder.

The flaming red Irish woman shook all their hands in turn. “Top of the day, lasses. I’m Caitlan, this poor we’en is my partner, Fong. As ye can see, television has thoroughly corrupted her.”

“Sez you,” Fong’s higher pitched voice laughed. “I got the gear.” She looked toward Jamai and smiled. “Hi, Granny!”

Six pairs of eyes at various heights swiveled to a suddenly bashful Jamai. “It’s an affectionate appellation…ohh!” Any shy feelings evaporated as Caitlan and Fong both swept in for a hug.

Lianna harumphed, drawing their attention. “Okay, we all know each other…most of us. We’re all connected in some way. We’re all sisters. A-and brother,” she noted, waving a hand to Jeremiah.

“We’ve all experienced our days of terror, all looked into the face of damnation. I can’t force you to do this, but…that thing down there represents a power even the gods are a little nervous about. We all have our powers, all have our own little gifts, and that’s going to come in handy in the next few minutes. So, I’m asking you, will you stand with me?” As she spoke, so she circulated among the gathered, touching each of her allies with a gloved hand. Those hands were now open, beckoning.

“We’re gonna need a way down there,” Vye commented.

“That’s what we’re here for,” Fong huffed, dropping the bag onto the catwalk. Reaching inside with both small hands, she distributed a rocket pack to each of her fellow warriors. Each one of them fastened the gear as though they’d done this before, like they’d done this all their lives.

“All we need now,” said Kiana cheerily, “is Gail Simone to lead us.”

“Maybe next time,” Fong chipped in.

“Ready, Godwalker?” Jeremiah smiled.

“Don’t call me that,” Lianna moaned. As the smallest, Vye and Kiana bunched on the rails, ready to push off. Everyone else dropped to a runner’s crouch, ready to watch Lianna’s back.

“Okay,” she called, “Let’s go!”

—-

Mikes’ latest book, FATHERS AND DAUGHTERS, is available at amazon.com.

f & d cover

Mike’s Amazon page:

https://www.amazon.com/Mr.-Michael-Robbins/e/B00CMHSMYA

 

[ shared blog] Saturn surpasses Jupiter after the discovery of 20 new moons — Scents of Science

A team led by Carnegie’s Scott S. Sheppard has found 20 new moons orbiting Saturn. This brings the ringed planet’s total number of moons to 82, surpassing Jupiter, which has 79. The discovery was announced Monday by the International Astronomical Union’s Minor Planet Center. Each of the newly discovered moons is about five kilometers, or […]

via Saturn surpasses Jupiter after the discovery of 20 new moons — Scents of Science