Deadly Reunion by: Terrance Dicks and Barry Letts

 

A novel celebrating the 40^th anniversary of Doctor Who from Barry Letts and Terrance Dicks sounds excellent on paper.  The back cover of Deadly Reunion boasts this fact proudly, placing itself as a tribute to the early days of what fandom at the time would have called the golden age of the show, that is the era overseen by the pair.  Terrance Dicks also has the novelist chops to pull this off, having written dozens of novels at this point including several for BBC Books that are praised.  Barry Letts’ last prose work was The Ghosts of N-Space for the Missing Adventures range in 1995, eight years previous.  Technically, Deadly Reunion is his first original novel.  Letts and Dicks tackle the book by splitting it in two parts, crafting two connected stories, presenting two novellas for the price of one.  Neither story are actually worth the asking price however as Deadly Reunion is a case of self-sabotage.  The first half reveals far too much that makes the second half become an entirely predictable plot, creating a loop of adding extra twists and turns.

 

The first half of Deadly Reunion plays out as its own little story about Alistair Gordon Lethbridge-Stewart, currently a second lieutenant stationed in Greece during the Second World War.  He is torn by the love of his life Fiona back home and falling deeply in love with Sephie, a woman with the image of a goddess.  That is because she is the goddess Persephone, both halves of Deadly Reunion are Letts and Dicks retelling the myth of Hades and Persephone but they are ancient aliens who came to Earth and were mistaken for gods.  Ignoring the fact this particular science fiction trope being incredibly problematic yet derivatives of it are a staple for Doctor Who, there is actually an interesting idea here.  The first half of the novel is directly playing with the idea of these myths repeating themselves in the same way that history repeats, something that is then handed off in the other part of the novel.  Barry Letts is likely responsible for this first half, on the basis that the chapters of this half do not have titles while the second half are all titled.  Letts only used chapter titles on Doctor Who and the Daemons but not on his two relatively recent novels and the ideas of myths replaying themselves feels like a Barry Letts idea.  This first half not having the Doctor present does mean there can be a focused character piece, however this does suffer from the fact that Lethbridge-Stewart’s arc here is one that had already been done in novels like The Eye of the Giant and The Scales of Injustice.  Yes, seeing a young version of the character serving in the army has the potential to be interesting, but falling in love and exploring the ramifications of that read as superfluous when it is simply putting a retelling of Hades and Persephone with Lethbridge-Stewart on the sidelines.  Were it presented as a standalone novella it likely would work better as the two halves of Deadly Reunion are bringing each other down in terms of quality.

 

The second half of the novel is more likely the Terrance Dicks penned half of the novel that is on the surface a continuation of the first half’s retelling of the myth, though this time set during the Doctor’s exile on Earth.  Dicks makes it a big Third Doctor celebration, the entire UNIT family is here along with the Master as this is set close to Terror of the Autons, but nobody is characterized quite well.  Dicks is in the mode of writing a Target novelization here, skewing his audience quite young in terms of prose.  The god characters instead of being shortened versions of their names as Letts did, just takes the name and changes a letter: Demeter becomes Lady Dempster, Sephie becomes Sophie, and Hades becomes Hadley.  Dicks then plays the reveal that this involves alien Greek gods recurring the loop of Hades and Persephone but with the Master this time, as some massive twist, holding onto it right until the very end.  Many of the plot points he lifts directly from The Daemons (essentially swapping Azal for Hades), though when he is not lifting from that there is the occasional lifting from Rags.  There are points where the characterization becomes parodic: Jo Grant is described as embodying “the swinging seventies” and the Doctor has a jolly good time describing in graphic detail how difficult it is executing someone by beheading.  Sergeant Benton and Mike Yates are both portrayed as a couple of lads going down to the pub for drinks and the Brigadier is occasionally a stick in the mud.  Dicks seems to be writing out of obligation to do so, making it unsurprising that he would only contribute one further full-length novel for BBC Books.

 

While these issues are mediocre enough and the first half having potential, what does drag Deadly Reunion down is the prose and structure of the novel.  Letts and Dicks as a collaborative pair should create ideas that flow nicely into each other, they were the production team throughout Jon Pertwee’s tenure on Doctor Who after all, but stylistically they are attempting to match each other and it does not mesh.  The prose does match what Dicks had employed for his novelizations, but structurally the use of chapters creates a chopped pace.  The writing feels as if each chapter had a specific word count to reach and then the chapter must end.  This mostly means Letts and Dicks are writing so each chapter ends in a cliffhanger, but more often than not it means that chapters will just end in the middle of a scene with very little rhyme or reason.  This is the most apparent in the first half of the novel, making me wonder if it was Letts, who had only written one standard length Target novelization to this point (The Paradise of Death and The Ghosts of N-Space were expanded to the full length novels of Virgin Publishing).

 

Overall, Deadly Reunion is yet another novel that’s far too tinged by the rose colored glasses of nostalgia, this time for the Pertwee era without taking much of its time to explore the repeating cycle of myth and history.  The characters inhabiting parodic versions of themselves also has the potential to create a good novel, especially if the entire novel followed the structure of an already existing story to make a statement on nostalgia, but it is clear that Barry Letts and Terrance Dicks were not using that as inspiration for this novel.  The style of prose not matching is also dragging the novel down, especially in the stronger first half while the second half almost takes glee in being dark and condemning aspects of the younger generations of the 1970s.  4/10.

Silicon Avatar by: Jeri Taylor from a story by: Lawrence V. Conley and directed by: Cliff Bole

 

“Silicon Avatar” is written by: Jeri Taylor, from a story by: Lawrence V. Conley, and is directed by: Cliff Bole.  It was produced under production code 204, was the 4^th episode of Star Trek: The Next Generation Season 5, the 104^th episode overall, and was broadcast on October 14, 1991.

 

Sir. Patrick Stewart passed away October 28, 2026, after a brief battle with Alzheimer’s disease with Lewy body dementia.  He is an actor whom I watched growing up in the X-Men films and his performances through Star Trek: The Next Generation have had a great effect on me.  The world will remember him fondly.

 

“Silicon Avatar” is a bold episode for Star Trek: The Next Generation to attempt, pulling its premise from the first season episode “Datalore”.  “Datalore” was the strongest episode from the first season relying on a central dual performance from Brent Spiner as its dramatic weight.  Data’s evil android brother Lore communed with a crystalline entity, leading it to destroy the colony on Omicron Theta.  “Silicon Avatar” sees the return of the crystalline entity, once again attacking a colony, the opening of the episode being the destruction of Melona IV.  Cliff Bole in the director’s chair for the opening sequences of the episode is perfect, despite having to use some greenscreen effects for the desolated planet visually is particularly effective.  Riker, Data, and Crusher are caught in the destruction, Riker losing a potential romantic interest which is a slightly cheap trick to get the audience to feel the personal stakes of the devastation (and would be an example of fridging were this an episode where the death is used to further Riker’s character).  It is not necessary, the inclusion of the crew members in the destruction and any loss of life they were unable to save is enough for the dramatic weight.  It’s notable that the first act of the episode has a slightly awkward pace and script.  Jeri Taylor is credited with the final script, but the story is the sole Star Trek: The Next Generation credit of Lawrence V. Conley, indicating that Taylor is doing a full-scale rewrite from a story idea.  Providing script rewrites from story ideas or even draft scripts is what Taylor excels at, four of her five previous scripts being these types of rewrites.  The uneven nature of the first act is likely one of necessity, which does not excuse the poor storytelling decisions, but explains them to bring the episode towards its emotional core.

 

Taylor’s script excels, much like the best of her previous scripts, when it is focusing on a character dilemma.  “Silicon Avatar’s” primary character is guest character Dr. Kila Marr, played by Ellen Geer, a xenobiologist whose son was killed in the crystalline entity’s initial attack on Omicron Theta.  Marr is racked by guilt for not being present when her son was killed and leaving him to live on Omicron Theta.  It’s a particularly nice look at how grief can ruin a person, the decisions Marr makes are ones that close her off from the possibility of a peaceful resolution to the episode.  There is also a secondary thread of trauma with the experience, she is aware of the existence of Lore and partially takes the pain he caused out on Data.  Lore not appearing in this episode is part of the reason it works so well, his specter is felt throughout which is the aim.  Brent Spiner for his part once again plays Data well.  He sees no need for restitution towards Marr but has grown enough as a person (despite the script being adamant that he does not have proper emotions) to do what he can to comfort her.  He has memories stored in his positronic brain of the colonists including Marr’s son.  An uncredited Jason Marsden does the voiceover for the one memory of Marr’s son that is shown in the episode to great emotional effect.

 

There is also a clear delineation of Data being aware that his kindness towards Marr while the right thing to do, is not actually helping her.  The crystalline entity, while clearly intelligent, is an example of cosmic horror in Star Trek: The Next Generation.  It’s an unstoppable force that the rest of the Enterprise crew attempts to understand, progress being made towards that goal in the final act.  The tension of the episode comes from Marr’s need for revenge against the entity that killed her son and destroyed her life.  She is riding this knife’s edge of growing beyond the need for revenge and seeing the crystalline entity as a living being that can be reasoned with, the implication being that the destruction of planets is something that it needs to do but is not doing willingly.  The resolution is giving into the impulse for revenge, which leaves “Silicon Avatar” an episode where the Enterprise crew explicitly fail in their goals.  That revenge becomes hollow though, it does not bring her son back and Data is certain that he would disapprove of the death.  That’s where the episode ends, the end credits rolling so the audience just sits with the unease of revenge fulfilled.  The decisions Ellen Geer makes as an actress are pitch perfect for this plot without a proper emotional resolution.

 

Overall, it is that ending that really makes “Silicon Avatar” memorable.  There is a particularly rocky start to the episode in terms of tone and setup, almost pulling an accidental bait and switch towards which crew members would be getting focus.  It seems to be difficult to make a Data centered episode a bad episode, even when it’s about how people react to Data instead of exploring Data’s character itself.  There’s a high concept alien here that fits better here than how it was presented in “Datalore” and ending on a note of people making a mistake is particularly brilliant.  The episode is quite good even if there have clearly been multiple rewrites to make the episode work even with cracks showing.  7/10.

Ensign Ro by: Michael Piller from a story by: Rick Berman and Michael Piller and directed by: Les Landau

 

“Ensign Ro” is written by: Michael Piller, from a story by: Rick Berman and Michael Piller, and is directed by: Les Landau.  It was produced under production code 203, was the 3^rd episode of Star Trek: The Next Generation Season 5, the 103^rd episode overall, and was broadcast on October 7, 1991.

 

“Ensign Ro” opens with Captain Jean-Luc Picard getting a haircut from an over-the-top alien barber.  This is a scene that has little to do with the rest of the episode outside of being a lovely little character scene and bit of worldbuilding for the Enterprise crew.  There is something inherently comedic in Patrick Stewart getting a haircut on the tiny amounts of hair left on the sides of his very bald head.  This is not a criticism of the scene, Michael Piller’s script is intentional in this scene being comedic and frustrating, the barber, Mot played by Ken Thorley, going on a rant of improvements that Picard could make to his leadership of the ship, apparently in agreement with Riker (who admits that when getting a haircut Mot does most of the talking).  It’s these little moments that add to the fabric of Star Trek: The Next Generation, making the world bigger.

 

The episode has nothing to do with Picard’s haircut, instead this is an episode largely about dispossessed people in a fight for survival and justice.  “The Wounded” introduced the Cardassians as antagonists, they are a people with their own empire and conflicts that the Federation have been unable to interfere within as they have not left their own borders.  “Ensign Ro” is the first episode that sketches out the conflict between the Cardassians and the Bajorans.  The Bajoran people are the episode’s allegory for all displaced groups of people and people living under occupation, pushed to terrorist actions under the pressure from said occupation.  This is an archetype of conflict that rings true today as it did in 1991 when “Ensign Ro” first broadcast.  Michael Piller is notable for not demeaning the Bajoran people in this episode, while not portrayed as noble for the terrorist actions are portrayed as acting understandably to the occupation and pressure from outsiders.  This position is one that would be controversial were it aired on television today in a world gripped from the ongoing and aftereffects of the war on terror, as it would not play well to be showing any sympathy to a cause deemed to be one of terror.  It is also integral to note that “Ensign Ro” does not work as specific allegory, while modern viewers would likely see parallels to Israel’s ongoing genocide of Palestinian people, there is nothing specific that Michael Piller or Rick Berman, who contributed to the initial story idea, included as part of that specific conflict.  The parallels are generic because “Ensign Ro” is exploring a conflict that recurs throughout human history.

 

Much of the tension of the episode comes from the Federation’s policy of non-interference to help the Bajoran people.  The decision to keep the Cardassians entirely off-screen, though often referred to in dialogue, goes quite a long way to position them as an incredibly powerful state.  They are not in open conflict with the Federation, but the Federation’s inaction is positioned as explicit in causing harm to the Bajoran people.  Cardassian propaganda has also clearly become an influence on the Federation, this is an episode where an unseen Bajoran is portrayed through dialogue as having the proper reaction to the subjugation of his people.  This is explicit in the text as a form of tokenization, he is explicitly a diplomat who is good at dancing and is often seen at symposiums.   This is Jas Holza, a man who essentially has rejected his own culture despite being in political exile from the occupied Bajor.  While he is a survivor of occupation, he is not influential.  The Federation will not interfere so whatever Holza may wish to influence, which is intentionally unclear as he is not a character that appears in the episode, he does not have said influence.  There is nothing he can do to change the material position of the Bajoran people, and yet he is the type of Bajoran our protagonists admire.  When his name comes up Piller’s script is excellent at portraying this darker undercurrent as it reveals how the crew of the Enterprise don’t actually think of the Bajorans as people.  Holza represents the termination of thought towards the plight of Bajor, there is a diplomat who has no real power but by the label he can clearly advance their plight while in actuality the opposite is happening.

 

The actual plot of the episode is a character study on the titular Ensign Ro Laren, a Bajoran member of Starfleet who is assigned to the Enterprise to commute a prison sentence connected to a court martial.  She is a Bajoran who has a deeper connection to her culture, correcting Picard on the Bajoran naming convention of placing the family name first and personal name second as well as being the pushback against the ‘diplomacy’ Holza represents.  This particular aspect of the conflict is where “Ensign Ro” is most clunky, Piller uses cultural aspects that existed prominently in 1991 and Bajoran culture is really a vague sketch of intelligence and technological advancement before occupation.  She is also not here to make friends, being clearly under the thumb of admiral Kennelly who is offering her a chance at freedom for doing his own dirty work, the twist of the episode being that he is directly working with the Cardassians to profit from the subjugation.  She is played by Michelle Forbes who plays every scene she is in with this underlying rage at her situation and the situation of her people.  That anger is not presented as negative, the only negative given is the resignation of Ro Laren to not attempt to bring other people to her cause as that is the focus of the episode.  The most interesting scene on the episode is Whoopi Goldberg’s Guinan being the one to find understanding with the ensign, Guinan also acting at least partially a displaced person though in very different circumstances.  It is the first moment of solidarity and pushes Ro to fight for her people and to get the Enterprise involved.  The rest of the episode is forcing Picard to interact with Bajorans, actually speaking with a so-called terrorist who is revealed to not be a terrorist but, as with his entire people, are a victim of the Cardassians.  It’s integral that this is not an episode where the Bajoran/Cardassian conflict is resolved but it does allow the Federation to begin to interfere and at the very least be aware of the fact of Cardassian interference actively in the Federation.

 

Overall, “Ensign Ro” is surprising as an episode that takes some massive swings to subtly skewer the Federation, and by extension the current governing body of the United States, for its policies of non-interference when that interference would stop the subjugation of people, advocating that interference be swift once.  Ro Laren as a character is the real highlight with the episode ending with the promise of future developments and a clear direction to explore the Cardassian/Bajoran conflict further.  Stating the position in plain language of standing with displaced people adds real weight to this episode in what it succeeds at doing while having a script from Michael Piller helps, emphasizing the characters as people who are allowed to be wrong and in need of change in outlook.  9/10.

Darmok by: Joe Menosky from a story by: Joe Menosky and Philip LaZebnik and directed by: Winrich Kolbe

 

“Darmok” is written by: Joe Menosky, from a story by: Philip LaZebnik and Joe Menosky, and is directed by: Winrich Kolbe.  It was produced under production code 202, was the 2^nd episode of Star Trek: The Next Generation Season 5, the 102^nd episode overall, and was broadcast on September 30, 1991.

 

“Darmok” is an episode of television that could not be aired today.  This is not because of some element of blatant bigotry as the cornerstone of the show, but because the way television and film are written and produced does not allow the blatantly absurd to be played completely straight.  It is, coincidentally, a brilliant episode.  Gene Roddenberry’s ethos towards Star Trek, at least its best aspects, is on full display in “Darmok”, developing a plot based in a future humanity free from interpersonal conflict and focusing on the Enterprise crew’s difficulty in communicating with an alien species that the universal translator devices cannot communicate.  The initial fascination the episode proposes is the fact that communication does not come from not knowing what the words are but being unable to parse any meaning from them.  The words are translated into English, or whatever future language humanity is speaking in the Star Trek universe, but they are meaningless.  Structurally, they are phrases with clear emotional meaning behind them.  This is also not the first time the Federation has already made contact with the Tamarians, previous ships have judged their society as incomprehensible yet advanced enough to provide contact and a place in their society.  Communication is the only thing stopping their integration into the Federation.

 

Joe Menosky writes the script and was responsible for the original idea of his and Philip LaZebnik, however it took over two years to bring “Darmok” to screen.  Executive producer Rick Berman had concerns about the possibility of realizing the drama in an engaging manner.  His concerns were for once not without merit, while Star Trek as a franchise had already created one alien language, Klingon, at this point in its history, creating one out of English and distinctly alien sounding proper nouns is a gamble.  The words must be constructed in a way that over the course of the episode they change from incomprehensible to the viewer to the point where it scans like English.   Now, I am not a linguist, nor do I possess the ability to speak a language other than English, however, there are clear choices being made in constructing the Tamarian sentences.  The most repeated statement of the episode is “Darmok and Jalad at Tanagra” which is the easiest to analyze the linguistic choices of.  It contains two English words, the conjunction ‘and’ and the preposition ‘at’, both functioning within the sentence as conjunction and preposition.  ‘Darmok’, ‘Jalad’, and ‘Tanagra’ are proper nouns, the two former functioning as names while the latter is a place.  The specific naming convention keeps people referred to as two syllables while places are allowed the flexibility of three.  Names also end in a harder consonant, in this case ‘k’ and ‘d’, while places end in a vowel or soft consonant, in this case the ‘ah’ sound.

 

As the plot is constructed around Picard’s understanding of the language, it is important to explain how the language works.  It’s a language constructed around stories integral for understanding the culture.  The episode describes it in the best way of constructing language around ideas like “Juliet on the balcony” referring to William Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet.  That immediately communicates romance to the characters and to the audience, it is a universal reference and likely will remain so to the end of humanity.  The language expands by building on that imagery to bring others into the culture through acceptance and building the language.  The actual help that they want from Picard is defeating some sort of beast that is invisible.  The episode depicts it as a shimmering outline, and the Tamarian with Picard is injured and dies.  The connection between the languages is Picard’s sharing of The Epic of Gilgamesh constructed in that specific form.  The choice of Gilgamesh as the connection is an intentional switch of the language construction of the Tamarians.  The phrase becomes “Gilgamesh and Enkidu at Uruk”, the names ending with vowels and soft consonants while the place ends with a harsh consonant.  It’s a subtle indication of the Federation and Tamarians coming together through the uniting powers of storytelling.  That’s what the language is, storytelling filtered down to its most basic form.  That form then determines the function as a language, Menosky’s script not relying heavily on the development of said language, it is suggested that this was a simplification of a more traditional language to explain the fact that it is only these storytelling reference points that comprise the language.  The breakthrough is also not the resolution of the episode, it only becomes the emotional climax of understanding.

 

While the script itself is strong and the plot is perfect for “Darmok”, the episode could easily be broken by its performances.  The Tamarians having to speak in an incomprehensible form of English could easily have poisoned the performances with winks and nods to the camera of irony.  This is why the episode could not be made today.  A modern production would not commit to this particular type of constructed language to hang the episode upon.  The idea is almost too goofy at the core to properly engage with, but Star Trek: The Next Generation was incredibly lucky in casting the Tamarians.  The background Tamarians with no dialogue are still under heavy prosthetic makeup, more extensive face and hand prosthetics than say the standard Klingon bumps.  There are two speaking Tamarians in “Darmok” with Richard Allen playing the unnamed first officer character which is a smaller but vital role.  This is not a role that is in the spotlight for the episode, but it requires equal commitment to selling the language which Allen does quite well for the two major scenes that he takes part in.  Paul Winfield plays Dathon, the Tamarian Captain who beams down with Picard to the planet, Picard being kidnapped and forced to learn the language through trial and error.  Winfield’s performance is complete commitment to putting emotion into each line of dialogue and an equal emphasis on body language without exaggerating the body language.  Dathon’s confusion at English is also clearly part of the script even if the viewer does not immediately recognize it, as most of the confusion is given to Patrick Stewart as Picard.  Stewart gives Picard this mounting frustration with an interesting ebb and flow as even the little advances in language are met by Picard with wonder.  The first advancement of understanding that Dathon wishes to give him fire for protection at night is this breakthrough that is only a temporary abatement of frustration for Picard, Stewart playing it as joy before immediate realization that this is only a tiny step.  It makes the emotional payoff of “Darmok”, Picard giving a speech in Tamarian to the first officer after the beast is defeated and Dathon has succumbed to his wounds, the most effective emotional payoff possible.

 

Overall, “Darmok” is particularly atypical for an episode of Star Trek: The Next Generation, and that is what makes it particularly special.  It is a different take on a character and cultural study, the culture being fictional but presenting communication between cultures not from a colonialist or imperialist stance.  It is coming from a genuine place of the Federation wanting to help but having to overcome that language barrier as it does not conform to the human rules of languages.  This is an episode that rests on its script and on successfully getting the cast to play each line straight.  It creates the reality of the language for the episode that makes the viewer go on the journey with Picard and slowly pick up on the unspoken rules of a conlang that does not even have a fully drawn history.  Rick Berman’s legitimate reservations as executive producer were countered at every possible moment, this becoming one of the most interesting and rousing successes for Star Trek: The Next Generation.  10/10.

Star Wars: Reign of the Empire: The Mask of Fear by: Alexander Freed

 

Comparing the current political situation of the United States of America to the fictional Galactic Empire in the Star Wars franchise is, in a word gauche.  It is not for a lack of similarities, even as originally imagined by George Lucas the comparison is there to how it operates, and the current administration’s authoritarian tendencies are certainly in line with that, however, that does not actually create material good from the comparison.  It is also made gauche by the franchise and Lucasfilm being owned by the Walt Disney Company, a multibillion-dollar corporation, for any expectation of contributing to the fight against authoritarianism (only if it provides the right amount of money).  Yet, the franchise’s latest publishing initiative, Reign of the Empire, seems to at the very least be in conversation with the fight against authoritarianism.  This is a planned trilogy, two already published and the third coming in 2027.  Alexander Freed’s The Mask of Fear as the first installment stands tall on its own as an exploration of how people live under a newly formed authoritarian regime, resisting in their own ways and placing their faith in hope in various causes believing that the inevitable end of empire would be coming.  Freed sets the novel up with false hope, Palpatine was already an old man with the formation of the Galactic Empire and the hope is that he will die before he does too much lasting damage.  Palpatine is an off-screen villain, this is a novel more interested in dealing with the day-to-day formation of the rebellion and consolidation of power that understands the need to push the needle further.  The public would revolt if full authoritarianism occurred once the Jedi fell, but the Senate was already clearly corrupted.  He does not need to be on page because his presence is felt through every moment of the novel, the protagonists were never going to succeed.  Palpatine is far too strong to allow even an inch, he already has the government in his back pocket, having just enough “on the side of good” to ensure any limits on his power will fail.

 

The novel follows three characters, all featured in other pieces of Star Wars media, at different stages of rebellion.  Saw Gurrera is the most straight forward, not needing any convincing that the Empire needs to fall, even if he is unable to overthrow the government for his own purposes.  It is telling that his perspective and storyline is the least interesting of the three, simply because the audience is already on his side of freedom and rebellion.  He is the first to act and his rebellion is providing essentially as much chaos and obfuscation as possible, even if it is essentially the lashing out of an unruly child.  It is certainly not bad, and where he intersects with the other protagonists of the novel are interesting, but his storyline is the one that has the least to develop, his character stays stagnant.  He begins The Mask of Fear a radical, and ends with those beliefs reinforced.  The same cannot be said for Senator Bail Organa, representing the middle stage of radicalization.  Organa can clearly see the authoritarianism around him and the subjugation of others and himself.  While he has not false hope that Palpatine can be reasoned with, there is one last hope that through legislation there could be some limits put on the power of the Emperor, the novel ending with that vote failing and the system functioning as intended.  Organa has the terrible choice to make, that of not knowing how far he can push his actions before the danger of his daughter, Leia, is put explicitly in danger.  This is something he can only grapple with emotionally, his actions shifting to whatever will keep his daughter safe and alive.  Freed is particularly interesting in that while Leia being adopted is clear on Bail Organa’s mind, there is this lovely secret that he does not know the real extent of everything.  He thinks Anakin and Padme are both dead.  Self-preservation is not something to be taken lightly, and it is perhaps not the most morally correct path, but it is still a noble one.  It is telling that Organa’s perspective is the perspective that the novel spends the most time in, not advocating for the middle ground that he represents, but for that of a man trying to ensure a future for somebody else.  The specter of his own death does hang over him in the mind of the reader throughout.

 

The third primary character is the one whose journey has the longest road to go, despite the fact that she loses the most in the establishment of the Empire.  Mon Mothma is one of the few female characters in the original trilogy given any dialogue, appearing in Return of the Jedi, and being given the role of Senator in Revenge of the Sith.  Her perspective here is of a woman who slowly loses her freedom, knowing that that freedom is being taken away, and yet is still disillusioned.  There is the balance of keeping Mon Mothma’s growth as the most that occurs for a character, and yet by the end of the novel there is still a sense of a longer way to go.  Mothma and Organa do spend much of the novel together, even if as Senators and people they do not actually like each other.  The alternating perspectives explore how two people can have the same goal but be working essentially at cross-purposes until the turning point of the novel.  There is a psychological element to Mothma’s arc as well, the government detaining her unjustly and employing intense interrogation techniques in the attempt to give up the rebellion.  What keeps her safe, ironically, is her faith in the system that must be shattered by the novel and that becomes the best part of the book.

 

Overall, Reign of the Empire: The Mask of Fear works not because of a specific parallel to real world politics, even if those parallels apply, but because of the strength of the protagonists.  As an outsider to larger Star Wars fandom, I found that the choice of protagonists worked as they adapt characters who to me are completely minor (although I do know they have become larger figures in the streaming spin-off series as well as other novels).  The thesis of a novel is one of keeping hope, but not keeping complicit despite the day to day deterioration of freedom under an authoritarian state.  8/10.

Redemption Part II by: Ronald D. Moore and directed by: David Carson

 

“Redemption, Part II” is written by: Ronald D. Moore and is directed by: David Carson.  It was produced under production code 201, was the 1^st episode of Star Trek: The Next Generation Season 5, the 101^st episode overall, and was broadcast on September 23, 1991.

 

“Redemption, Part II” does not feel like part of a cohesive whole.  Yes, it continues the story of “Redemption, Part I” and is a quite satisfying conclusion, however, you can tell from Ronald D. Moore’s script that there was not a conclusion in mind at the end of the first episode when production began on this episode.  “Redemption, Part II” is not a bad episode.  Moore can turn in a good script while scrambling and there is a lot to dissect in terms of what this episode and the story taken as a whole.  It is split into three major subplots, two continuing the Klingon and Romulan plotlines, but there is also a third about Data being put in charge of a starship when it becomes clear that the Federation has to interfere in the Klingon civil war by monitoring the Romulans.  Data commanding a ship is a great step for his character development and Moore adds conflict of a first officer, Hobson played by Timothy Carhart, not recognizing Data’s authority as an android does not fit the role of starship captain.  This little arc is added to the episode.  It is further addressing themes of identity and societal expectations that have been the driving force of Worf’s character arc; however, it does not actually intersect with Worf’s journey in a meaningful way.  The material is well-written: Data is a character who is clearly a favorite of the writers based on how many episodes of Star Trek: The Next Generation are devoted to his character.  Brent Spiner plays it well: his scene opposite Picard questioning why he hasn’t been given command of a ship while everyone else has is excellent.  The issue is Moore’s lack of faith in the audience reading these themes as part of Worf’s journey, remaining tangential to the rest of the episode until the resolution.  Data develops a way of decloaking the Romulan birds of prey through disruption forcing them to retreat which ultimately ends the Klingon civil war, losing the backup of the Romulans means that the Duras camp cannot sustain their efforts.

 

Visually “Redemption, Part II” is quite a bit more dynamic than “Redemption, Part I”.  Cliff Bole did not return to direct this episode instead handing the director’s chair to David Carson.  This creates a very different visual style to match Moore’s more action heavy tone for this episode.  Like the previous episode there are several sets that are quite small and Carson’s direction instead of attempting forced perspective or alternate angles, shoots the episode in particularly close quarters.  The ships are particularly shot at close quarters; the opening sequence of a Klingon ship being attacked makes use of whipping the camera as much as possible to disguise how small the studio set is.  It’s a particularly good stylistic choice to create that frenetic pace that the Klingon civil war is going badly, because it is.  While Worf has reintegrated into Klingon society, he isn’t entirely cut out for just how much his people focus on the performance of war.  There are still rituals and discussions on neutral grounds, there’s a major sequence where he and Kurn are in a bar that is neutral ground.  The way Michael Dorn plays disgust in Worf when Kurn is happily drinking with the enemy, an enemy that would kill them both were there not the ritualistic adherence to rules of engagement.  Tony Todd as Kurn is eating up the material he has been given, being fully satisfied as a warrior and slaughtering the enemies to keep the Klingon society upheld.  It’s important that this is an episode that ends with Worf returning to the Federation because despite having his honor back, he has achieved redemption, he does not actually fit within the society he left.  It makes for a great little character arc that could easily be ended here, however, there is the feeling that this is a story that is not entirely over as there are still plot threads for Worf that are not addressed here.  The climax of the episode hinges on Worf showing mercy towards Toral, the Klingon teenager that is the figurehead of the rebellion, even as Lursa and B’Etor have escaped, encapsulating how far Worf has come as a character.

 

Dangerous women as responsible for the conflict underpins “Redemption, Part II”.  Lursa and B’Etor, played by Barbara March and Gwynyth Walsh, being the main Klingon villains of the story and their contribution to this episode is kidnapping Worf to tempt him with power through marriage.  March and Walsh are particularly good at playing the traditional femme fatale through the heavy Klingon makeup, though some of that is due to the female Klingon makeup being designed more explicitly for the male gaze than the male makeup, but the performances are doing more of the work than you might think.  Behind them, however, is the secondary plot of the episode, the half-Romulan commander Sela, played by Denise Crosby.  The actual explanation as to Sela’s identity comes directly from plotting a soap opera.  She is the daughter of Tasha Yar, but the Tasha Yar from “Yesterday’s Enterprise” who was sent back in time with the Enterprise-C and lived to fall in love with a Romulan.  Sela as a character is as manipulative as any Romulan but is going through her own crisis of identity.  Her very existence sends Picard into an emotional spiral, Patrick Stewart playing the denial of Tasha somehow living without ever knowing it being a particularly fascinating performance.  Sela denies her human side as weakness, ignoring any of her potentially human instincts.  There is this unspoken sense of vengeance to be served to Picard for the death (or is that deaths?) of her mother.  Moore makes the interesting choice of not resolving Sela’s plot, she leaves the episode just after the halfway point when it becomes clear that the Klingon civil war is no longer going to be useful for the Romulan cause.  For Crosby’s part, this is the most interesting material she has been given to work with.  Sela as a character is allowed depth as she fills the role of antagonist, something that the female protagonists on Star Trek: The Next Generation are rarely allowed.  Like Worf, she is being given a character arc tied directly to identity and Crosby is also just delighting in the chance to play someone over the top and able to show more than one emotion in a scene.  There are several quiet decisions on Crosby's part as she plays opposite Picard in the Enterprise ready room.  It is a simple game of cat and mouse, both parties knowing that the Federation and Enterprise are at strategic stalemate.

 

Overall, “Redemption, Part II” does fail to entirely live up to the higher expectations that were laid down in the first episode of the story.  It certainly does an admirable job of trying to do so by continuing to give Michael Dorn some of his best material to work with, however, in being so tonally and structurally different from “Redemption, Part I”, this is an episode that almost puts too many ideas in.  There is just too much Data in an episode that is focusing so heavily on Worf and the ideas of someone changing from their beginnings that is ever so slightly incongruous to what the rest of the episode is doing.  “Redemption, Part II” is still a great episode in part due to excellent performances from Dorn, Stewart, and Crosby, while David Carson’s directorial choices help to smooth over where the episode lacks the time to properly explore the ideas, particularly in Data’s subplot and in the visual shorthand for depicting Klingon society.  8/10.

Emotional Chemsitry by: Simon A. Forward

 

Simon A. Forward loves Russian literature and Doctor Who.  I love Doctor Who and have not read nearly enough Russian literature to consider myself a massive fan.  Emotional Chemistry is a book that takes its chapter titles from famous works of Russian literature from Chekov to Turgenev.  The novel is split into three different time periods in the history of Russia: the past, the relatively near future, and the far future.  It is also a story about falling in love in ways that ultimately fall apart.  Forward is attempting a tragedy with a TARDIS team that is built upon tragedy.  Fitz Kreiner and the Doctor have both been through their own personal hells, arguably still going through them while newcomer Trix MacMillan has her own traumas to work through.  It’s a shame then that Simon A. Forward does not actually do much in terms of pushing these characters forward.  Emotional Chemistry is a novel that reads closer to a stopgap in between bigger plot points.  Timeless ended with Trix a new member of the TARDIS team and the team realizing that Sabbath has some mysterious bosses that have been behind apparently everything the Eighth Doctor Adventures have been building towards.  This is yet another novel where there is a clear disconnect with the author writing and the direction of the range, a problem that plagued much of the alternate universe sequence that led to this point.  There is a feeling of distinct lack of communication between the writers as the range is slowing down and reaching its eventual conclusion.

 

These things would not be a terrible problem; however Simon A. Forward is an author whose work seems to work better in short doses than in the form of a novel and even than that is hit or miss.  Emotional Chemistry has an incredibly slow start, juggling three plotlines while lacking a consistency in terms of pace.  Much of the first half of the novel would be considered a Doctor-lite story which again is not necessarily an issue, there have been novels such as Birthright that barely feature the doctor but his presence and influence is felt.  For Emotional Chemistry, Forward almost seems to have had a piece of original speculative fiction focused on Russian history and future time travel experiments, but it was retrofitted into the world of Doctor Who.  The big Doctor Who connection is the Zygma experiments featured in The Talons of Weng-Chiang, with several mentions of the character of Magnus Greel, but as this is written into a sequel it the references feel like a retrofitting. The supporting characters are largely military characters, partially working for OGRON, the Russian branch of UNIT, which is for whatever reason a reference to the Ogrons.  This and the Greel references make me wonder if it’s a tribute to the fact that some of the earlier VHS releases were The Talons of Weng-Chiang and Day of the Daleks.

 

These are the ideas with the most depth, the supporting characters feel all particularly like stock characters once the TARDIS team becomes important to the plot.  The most interesting side character is Aphrodite.  Aphrodite metatextually is representative of the relationships.  She’s an alien who is the result of her parents love in a society where having children were forbidden and much of her characterization is about being empathic and someone’s missing half.  While she is given the name of the Greek goddess of love, her story has its roots in Plato’s Symposium in a dialogue with Aristophanes about the third sex of a hermaphrodite, split in half by Zeus and searching for their other half to become whole again.  This is a perfectly fine myth and piece of philosophy to explore in a science fiction novel, but Emotional Chemistry never really achieves what it sets out to do because it eventually has to remember the Doctor, Fitz, and Trix are there.

 

Overall, Emotional Chemistry is actually a really good idea for an original piece of speculative fiction, but in pitching and writing it as a Doctor Who novel it feels pointless.  Simon A. Forward feels more at home writing the novel as a series of connected short stories instead of a continuing narrative, only really committing to that when it becomes more focused on the Doctor.  This leaves it lacking in a direction and with Forward’s basic prose it becomes a chore that only covers ground that’s been covered elsewhere in the range.  3/10.