Well, there you have it. I hope you've enjoyed my first foray into the world of Who fanfic. As Susan said, the adventure isn't complete - but that doesn't mean the story isn't complete, at least from her perspective!
I won't leave the rest of you hanging forever - but you will have to wait until after The Chase, in about six months' time, for reasons that regular readers can readily figure out for themselves.
Now that the story's finished, I'd like to say a little about how it
came about - and what I was trying to achieve. During this marathon I
had become frustrated that Susan was so ill-served by the TV scripts. In
fact, almost all traces of the unearthly child disappeared by the end
of the third serial - and many only lasted one episode! It's not
surprising that Carole Ann Ford decided to leave when her contract
ended. As a bit of a continuity fetishist, this put me in something of a
bind: I didn't want to contradict her portrayal on the show, but I
didn't want to write a story about a screaming, useless peril monkey
either.
So then I thought, why not write a story that is, on one level, a
completely traditional adventure that might have appeared on the show at
the time, but then restore some of the unearthly child in Susan's inner
dialogue? For this I needed some distance, so decided to make it first
person and have a framing story, set shortly after her departure from
the TARDIS (since The Dalek Invasion of Earth was fresh in my mind).
The fact that there's a further framing sequence beyond that came about
for two reasons. The main one is that both of Ford's Companion
Chronicles are narrated by a later Susan, with a more mature manner than
I would expect from the immediate post-Invasion period, and I found
myself using this voice. The second was my need to have a reason for the
narration, something personal to make it truly Susan's tale. Family
seemed to be a key ingredient, and motherhood offered more scope than
matrimony. So I ended up writing three voices for the main character,
subtly different for the earlier two periods, and then with at least a
decade's more experience for the narrator. Right now, I have absolutely
no idea how successful this has been!
Anyway, I now had a point to the story and a structure - but no
adventure. Obviously it had to provide the opportunity for an "insight
moment" regarding parenthood, but there needed to be more to it than
that. And this is where I got a bit stuck. The people of the Nest and
their plight came quite easily, but every time I tried to include an
actual plot the focus swerved away from Susan. The only way I could
bring it back was to make use of her telepathy, and I felt that had been
overused as a "see, Susan is useful" trump card (and, of course, it had also been used as a "see, Susan is worse than useless" card in The Witch Hunters).
The breakthrough came when it occurred to me that I didn't have to
complete the adventure here. Let the show's first action hero, Ian,
handle half of it in his own post-farewell short story! That left me
free to concentrate on the part that mattered right now.
And after that, it was just a matter of getting the words onto the page.
Which isn't as simple as it seems, partly because of the serialised
nature of the story; but I know myself fairly well and had to do that,
or I would never have finished it. Still, there are things I will change
if I ever prepare an all-in-one version. For one, I've realised that
for Ian's Tale to work they need to spend more time in the Nest - and
that would give me more of an opportunity to emphasise the activities of
the Nest's youngsters, and in the process make Susan's rationale
clearer.
Oh, and if anyone can think of a better title than "Susan's Tale", I'd appreciate it! Best I can come up with is Beneath the Surface, but that makes me think of Silurians and Sea Devils...
Next Time:
I'm taking a couple of weeks off. After that, on Gallifrey Base I'll be
starting a new thread for a new phase; on the blog, of course, that
doesn't apply. Vicki Pallister, rescue is on the way...
Saturday 18 August 2012
Friday 17 August 2012
Susan's Tale, Part 5
Previous instalments: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4a Part 4b
The fever broke the following morning. I hadn't needed Doctor Renwick's help after all; and fortunately he'd been delayed by some more urgent case, so I didn't have to worry about awkward questions arising from an examination. When I woke I rolled over and saw David, sleeping beside me - he looked exhausted, poor dear. I propped myself up on an elbow and watched him for a while, appreciating the lines of his face while processing all the thoughts that had come to me during the night.
After a while I made my decision. I sat up, ready to try standing. A quiet voice stopped me.
"Susan?"
"Sorry, David, I didn't mean to wake you."
He reached up and stroked my cheek with his hand. "It's good to see you looking better, love. Your temperature's come down, too. How do you feel?"
I laughed. "Still a bit giddy." I lay back down and hugged him, my head against his shoulder. He was warm, and I felt safe in his arms. After a while I raised my head, and looked directly into his eyes. "David. I've got something important to say."
"Okay." He looked at me, patiently, lovingly. Suddenly I felt shy and nervous again. I sat up; so did he.
"I've been thinking about what you said, what you wanted. About children. I've never given you an answer, and I know how it's hurt you."
"There's no need -"
"No, David, listen. I... I really want to explain. There's been a couple of things stopping me properly thinking about it. One is, this didn't seem a very good place or time to start a family. But I've been remembering some of the people I met on my travels, who had children in much worse circumstances. The metaxi, for instance, who'd only just landed on a new world: they had even less to work with than we do. And the people of the Nest, who knew that many of their children would be killed before they reached maturity. Just because the future's uncertain doesn't mean we have to put life on hold! Every minute those children live adds something to the universe, and it's taken this fever to make me realise that denying someone a chance at life is no way to protect them!
"Except, well, there's something else which means that's not quite the choice we've got. The thing is, I won't be able to bear you a child. Please don't ask me to tell you how I know; I just do. But there are orphans out there, right now, who could do with a loving family. Their lives are worth living, even as they are; but I think we could make them so much better. So I guess what I'm saying is: how do you feel about adopting?"
He looked at me in astonishment. "How do I feel about it? It's a wonderful idea!" He paused, and looked worried again. "But it'll mean some big changes. Are you sure you really want it? It's not the fever making you say all this?"
I smiled. "I'm sure," I replied, and I was. That's another advantage of my background: I don't have to say things to work out if I mean them.
David nodded, thoughtfully, then laughed. "Why not?" he said - and those were the last words either of us spoke for a while.
Our lives turn on such tiny things. Ian, Barbara, David - who knows what would have happened to them if the TARDIS had taken me somewhere different, just once? And then there's you. The odds against you even being born were immense, but here you are. There are so few people I can talk to about my travels; and I suppose it won't be that long before I have to decide how much I can say to you, too. For now, though, when all you want from a conversation is the sound of my voice, you can be my confidante.
So close those eyes, my miracle baby. I'm sure you have a wonderful, full life ahead of you, however long it lasts; but right now there's nothing you need to do, except rest. Sleep well, my beautiful boy. My Alex.
THE END
Next Time:
Some notes on the writing of this story - including some information on when you'll get to read the other half of the adventure...
The fever broke the following morning. I hadn't needed Doctor Renwick's help after all; and fortunately he'd been delayed by some more urgent case, so I didn't have to worry about awkward questions arising from an examination. When I woke I rolled over and saw David, sleeping beside me - he looked exhausted, poor dear. I propped myself up on an elbow and watched him for a while, appreciating the lines of his face while processing all the thoughts that had come to me during the night.
After a while I made my decision. I sat up, ready to try standing. A quiet voice stopped me.
"Susan?"
"Sorry, David, I didn't mean to wake you."
He reached up and stroked my cheek with his hand. "It's good to see you looking better, love. Your temperature's come down, too. How do you feel?"
I laughed. "Still a bit giddy." I lay back down and hugged him, my head against his shoulder. He was warm, and I felt safe in his arms. After a while I raised my head, and looked directly into his eyes. "David. I've got something important to say."
"Okay." He looked at me, patiently, lovingly. Suddenly I felt shy and nervous again. I sat up; so did he.
"I've been thinking about what you said, what you wanted. About children. I've never given you an answer, and I know how it's hurt you."
"There's no need -"
"No, David, listen. I... I really want to explain. There's been a couple of things stopping me properly thinking about it. One is, this didn't seem a very good place or time to start a family. But I've been remembering some of the people I met on my travels, who had children in much worse circumstances. The metaxi, for instance, who'd only just landed on a new world: they had even less to work with than we do. And the people of the Nest, who knew that many of their children would be killed before they reached maturity. Just because the future's uncertain doesn't mean we have to put life on hold! Every minute those children live adds something to the universe, and it's taken this fever to make me realise that denying someone a chance at life is no way to protect them!
"Except, well, there's something else which means that's not quite the choice we've got. The thing is, I won't be able to bear you a child. Please don't ask me to tell you how I know; I just do. But there are orphans out there, right now, who could do with a loving family. Their lives are worth living, even as they are; but I think we could make them so much better. So I guess what I'm saying is: how do you feel about adopting?"
He looked at me in astonishment. "How do I feel about it? It's a wonderful idea!" He paused, and looked worried again. "But it'll mean some big changes. Are you sure you really want it? It's not the fever making you say all this?"
I smiled. "I'm sure," I replied, and I was. That's another advantage of my background: I don't have to say things to work out if I mean them.
David nodded, thoughtfully, then laughed. "Why not?" he said - and those were the last words either of us spoke for a while.
Our lives turn on such tiny things. Ian, Barbara, David - who knows what would have happened to them if the TARDIS had taken me somewhere different, just once? And then there's you. The odds against you even being born were immense, but here you are. There are so few people I can talk to about my travels; and I suppose it won't be that long before I have to decide how much I can say to you, too. For now, though, when all you want from a conversation is the sound of my voice, you can be my confidante.
So close those eyes, my miracle baby. I'm sure you have a wonderful, full life ahead of you, however long it lasts; but right now there's nothing you need to do, except rest. Sleep well, my beautiful boy. My Alex.
THE END
Next Time:
Some notes on the writing of this story - including some information on when you'll get to read the other half of the adventure...
Wednesday 15 August 2012
Short Trips and Sidesteps 3.01: The Longest Story in the World, by Paul Magrs
OK, so it's a bit cheeky to delay Susan's Tale to review this, but what
the heck. Paul Magrs is another writer who generally does something a
bit out-of-the-ordinary when writing for Who. In a way this is a
risky strategy, and sometimes it doesn't pay off (at least for me); but
on other occasions if definitely adds sparkle. Anyway, writing the
opening story for a collection dedicated to the less-explored byways of
the Whoniverse seems a perfect gig for him; and he has produced a very
good story to go into that slot. Because it's a story about stories.
The framing sequence is simply a retelling of the archetype for all such sequences, A Thousand and One Nights, while the inner narrative is a fanciful version of the story of Susan and her Grandfather in the days before they left their homeworld. This is all very well, elegantly told and atmospheric; but there is no sense that this is intended to be a 'true' history, and there is also a distance to this style of story that means we don't fully engage with the characters. So on one level there's not very much to it.
But - and it's a big but - that's really not the point. The key thing isn't the content of the tale but the structure, and here we have a delightful symmetry between the saga of Scheherazade, whose life depends on concluding every night's storytelling session with Shahriyar wanting more, and the TV show itself, ending each week's episode on a cliffhanger so that the audience will tune in again next time. In this it works wonderfully.
One of my other hobbies (abandoned for the moment because I can't keep up with everything) is Interactive Fiction, or "text adventures" as they are often known. My unfinished masterpiece is based on the 1001 Nights, and works with multiply nested levels of story; which ties nicely into my fascination with the question of what is reality.
A Confused Chronology, part 7: Continuity Clash? What's Continuity?
Of course, in this story we know the Doctor isn't real - he's an invention in a tale told by another fictional character. And this isn't the only tale to take this tack. I haven't heard it, but Big Finish's Doctor Who Unbound story Deadline is set in a world much like ours, except that the TV program was never made; and the (would-be) writer of the show is the main character.
This, of course, solves any continuity clash: if the Doctor is a figment of the imagination it's just a case of writers not caring, or not paying attention, or not having memorised every detail of the more than 2,500 stories that are about him. This is, of course, what happens in our world.
However it's also not really that satisfying as a general solution, like ending every story "and then I woke up" - good as a gimmick every once in a while (particularly if your name is Neil Gaiman and you're starting off a comic series about the Lord of Dreams), but used too often it becomes dull and drains the life from the tales.
Fortunately there's a middle ground. Stories don't have to come from nowhere (in fact they rarely do), and both reportage and dramatisation of real life events have a noble history. Perhaps what we see, hear and read are reports of his adventures prepared for our enjoyment? This actually happens in Light City in the rather wonderful The Natural History of Fear, and of course with the charming but unreliable narrator Elton from Love & Monsters. As a theory it not only explains continuity errors, but also gives us a reason for stories having such different moods (the two named above, for example). Give the same information to David Whitaker, Douglas Adams, and Eric Saward and you will end up with very different presentations!
If my marathon continues long enough, I will be returning to this idea and taking another look in roughly four seasons' time. For now, I'll just say that this is my emergency fallback position for when nothing better occurs to me.
Published:
Date: March 2000
ISBN: 0-563-55599-8
Rating:
6/10.
Next Time:
At last: the conclusion of Susan's Tale!
The framing sequence is simply a retelling of the archetype for all such sequences, A Thousand and One Nights, while the inner narrative is a fanciful version of the story of Susan and her Grandfather in the days before they left their homeworld. This is all very well, elegantly told and atmospheric; but there is no sense that this is intended to be a 'true' history, and there is also a distance to this style of story that means we don't fully engage with the characters. So on one level there's not very much to it.
But - and it's a big but - that's really not the point. The key thing isn't the content of the tale but the structure, and here we have a delightful symmetry between the saga of Scheherazade, whose life depends on concluding every night's storytelling session with Shahriyar wanting more, and the TV show itself, ending each week's episode on a cliffhanger so that the audience will tune in again next time. In this it works wonderfully.
One of my other hobbies (abandoned for the moment because I can't keep up with everything) is Interactive Fiction, or "text adventures" as they are often known. My unfinished masterpiece is based on the 1001 Nights, and works with multiply nested levels of story; which ties nicely into my fascination with the question of what is reality.
A Confused Chronology, part 7: Continuity Clash? What's Continuity?
Of course, in this story we know the Doctor isn't real - he's an invention in a tale told by another fictional character. And this isn't the only tale to take this tack. I haven't heard it, but Big Finish's Doctor Who Unbound story Deadline is set in a world much like ours, except that the TV program was never made; and the (would-be) writer of the show is the main character.
This, of course, solves any continuity clash: if the Doctor is a figment of the imagination it's just a case of writers not caring, or not paying attention, or not having memorised every detail of the more than 2,500 stories that are about him. This is, of course, what happens in our world.
However it's also not really that satisfying as a general solution, like ending every story "and then I woke up" - good as a gimmick every once in a while (particularly if your name is Neil Gaiman and you're starting off a comic series about the Lord of Dreams), but used too often it becomes dull and drains the life from the tales.
Fortunately there's a middle ground. Stories don't have to come from nowhere (in fact they rarely do), and both reportage and dramatisation of real life events have a noble history. Perhaps what we see, hear and read are reports of his adventures prepared for our enjoyment? This actually happens in Light City in the rather wonderful The Natural History of Fear, and of course with the charming but unreliable narrator Elton from Love & Monsters. As a theory it not only explains continuity errors, but also gives us a reason for stories having such different moods (the two named above, for example). Give the same information to David Whitaker, Douglas Adams, and Eric Saward and you will end up with very different presentations!
If my marathon continues long enough, I will be returning to this idea and taking another look in roughly four seasons' time. For now, I'll just say that this is my emergency fallback position for when nothing better occurs to me.
Published:
Date: March 2000
ISBN: 0-563-55599-8
Rating:
6/10.
Next Time:
At last: the conclusion of Susan's Tale!
Monday 13 August 2012
Susan's Tale, Part 4b
She led us through the entrance her daughter had made, into a passage
that led steeply downward. I noticed the warriors stayed right by us.
The walls here were different, and I borrowed the match to take a closer
look. Holding it up I could see that the earth was covered with a thin
layer of a glistening, semi-transparent substance. One of the others
tapped me on the arm, and gave me a pale, glowing globe.
"Please use this light instead of your own? Its brightness pains us."
"Of course, of course," said Grandfather. He took the match and blew it out; I found I could actually see better. The light intensity was lower, but it was also more diffuse, allowing the eyes to adjust better. I could even make out the patterns on the carapace of the creature who had produced the globe - they were intricate, full of whorls and circles, and in an odd way they reminded me of home.
"Your markings are very beautiful," I said. He gave a little shake, possibly a sign of embarrassment.
"Thank you. They are very fresh because it is only two cycles since my change; I am the youngest in my patrol, apart from the excavators."
"Do you mean the children?" He nodded, a very human gesture. "I was wanting to ask about them. How do they make these tunnels?"
"How do you mean? In the usual way, of course. They pass the earth through their bodies where it is compacted and mixed with various secretions that harden as it is pressed against the walls, to stop it falling in again." I made a disgusted noise, and Grandfather chuckled; fortunately our companion didn't notice. "Here, of course, we are only making temporary passageways, so the excavators don't chew on the wood beforehand -"
"I knew it was paper!" I exclaimed. It was rather shrill; I hated that about my voice. Several guards turned to look, and I felt my face turning red. Not that anyone would see. Grandfather put an arm around me, gently. "I think we've reached our destination," he said, tactfully.
"I am called Chot," whispered my new friend; and then we were stepping out of the tunnel and into a chamber.
"This is one of our nurseries," said the matron. I could tell this, because there were hexagonal banks of racks on the walls, a bit like a beehive but more designed, somehow. There were also sculptures and bas-reliefs, and another group of the beetle people on guard. Only a few of the egg spaces were occupied, but it was obvious how much they had invested in their children, and I felt tears welling up at the thought of what they had been going through.
"We have to keep the children hidden as well as we can, so the nurseries are only connected to the main tunnel network temporarily, when we require access. It means that they do not get quite enough air, but the alternative is worse." She stamped her spear on the ground. "Yet still it is not enough! Somehow the killers always find their way in. We do not know what more we can do."
The talk of people wearing armour earlier had made me wonder if the attackers were advanced technologically, so I immediately thought of densitometers. They could have full, three-dimensional maps of the Nest; if so, all the hiding in the world would achieve nothing. Grandfather was wandering through the chamber, admiring the artwork; he didn't seem to have heard, though I knew he would have been listening carefully and would be formulating a plan. Still, the matron seemed to be waiting for a response, so I gulped back my tears.
"Have you thought about moving? Or digging deeper, so they can't get to you as easily?"
The matron shook her head. "The excavators cannot go any further down because the ground is too hard. And moving to a new Nest is out of the question. We can only go out at night, and are even more vulnerable on the surface." She sighed. "This was the perfect place, settled seventeen generations before me. It is an area rich in everything we need. We counted ourselves so lucky to be here."
"Until your kind came," interjected K'tak.
"Quite astonishing," said Grandfather. We all turned to stare at him; he was admiring one of the statues. After a moment he looked up as if surprised by the attention, though he didn't fool me for a moment.
"This carving is made by your excavators, correct?" I hadn't realised because I had been concentrating on other things; now, looking closer, I could see it was like papier-mâché, the same substance as the walls. It was finely detailed.
The matron was nodding. "All our artists are from the excavator phase," she said, "but what has this to do with our problem?"
"Hm? Nothing, probably nothing. It's just - well, never mind." He stood up straight. "The solution to your problem is simple. Susan and I must return to the surface, contact your enemies, and make them see the error of their ways. Hopefully they will listen to us as beings of similar form; and if they do not - well, then I shall just have to improvise, shan't I?"
"Matron," said K'tak, "do not listen to them! They will betray us at the first opportunity!"
"How can they betray us, K'tak? Their people always find the nurseries anyway, so what can they say that can possibly make anything any worse for us? No, it is time to take a chance; and I believe these two are our best opportunity."
Grandfather bowed again. "Madam, I thank you for your trust. May I take a small carving, perhaps this one?" He indicated a six-inch high model in one of the egg spaces. The matron nodded her assent. "Then I believe it is time to go."
A small group assembled: the matron, K'tak, Chot, two other guards, one excavator, Grandfather, and myself. We were just about to leave when there was another earth tremor.
"Softening us up," muttered Grandfather. We waited until everything was still then set off down the tunnel, the excavator sealing it shut behind us. Chot positioned himself beside me.
"Tell me what it is like living on the surface?"
I thought for a moment. How could I explain it to someone who couldn't even stand to be in daylight? "Well, Chot, we are travellers, and we see all kinds of different places. Some are brighter than you could imagine, some are darker than this tunnel; some are full of life, while some are completely barren. It just depends where we happen to end up."
"But which one is your home?"
"My original home is a long way away, and I don't suppose I'll ever see it again. But I've made a home in the TARDIS."
"TARDIS?"
"Our ship. It looks like a box from the outside but it's really very comfortable with plenty of space for all of us."
"So it is like a Nest?"
I thought about this, and smiled. "I suppose it is, in a way."
He nodded. "Then you are not so different, really."
The conversation continued, and it wasn't too long before we reached the highest levels. Then the rumbling began again, but this time the ground shook more violently. Grandfather and I dropped onto our hands and knees; most of the Nest people did the equivalent, though they seemed more comfortable than we on all fours. Then the roof came down in front of us, landing on top of the matron, who screamed once, then went silent. A group of about half a dozen armoured humanoids clambered down through the opening.
In the sudden light of day K'tak turned and glared at us. "I knew it! You have betrayed us, and now the matron is dead! I will kill you for that!" He leaped towards us, spear at the ready...
Oh, look at you - you're almost asleep, aren't you? Don't worry, I'll tell you what happened with the people of the Nest another day, how Grandfather and I finally met up with Ian and Barbara again; but we've gone past the part of the tale that made the biggest impression on me, that my mind hooked onto in its delirious state. There's only a little more I want to say for now. it won't take long.
Next Time:
A side trip to examine The Longest Story in the World...
"Please use this light instead of your own? Its brightness pains us."
"Of course, of course," said Grandfather. He took the match and blew it out; I found I could actually see better. The light intensity was lower, but it was also more diffuse, allowing the eyes to adjust better. I could even make out the patterns on the carapace of the creature who had produced the globe - they were intricate, full of whorls and circles, and in an odd way they reminded me of home.
"Your markings are very beautiful," I said. He gave a little shake, possibly a sign of embarrassment.
"Thank you. They are very fresh because it is only two cycles since my change; I am the youngest in my patrol, apart from the excavators."
"Do you mean the children?" He nodded, a very human gesture. "I was wanting to ask about them. How do they make these tunnels?"
"How do you mean? In the usual way, of course. They pass the earth through their bodies where it is compacted and mixed with various secretions that harden as it is pressed against the walls, to stop it falling in again." I made a disgusted noise, and Grandfather chuckled; fortunately our companion didn't notice. "Here, of course, we are only making temporary passageways, so the excavators don't chew on the wood beforehand -"
"I knew it was paper!" I exclaimed. It was rather shrill; I hated that about my voice. Several guards turned to look, and I felt my face turning red. Not that anyone would see. Grandfather put an arm around me, gently. "I think we've reached our destination," he said, tactfully.
"I am called Chot," whispered my new friend; and then we were stepping out of the tunnel and into a chamber.
"This is one of our nurseries," said the matron. I could tell this, because there were hexagonal banks of racks on the walls, a bit like a beehive but more designed, somehow. There were also sculptures and bas-reliefs, and another group of the beetle people on guard. Only a few of the egg spaces were occupied, but it was obvious how much they had invested in their children, and I felt tears welling up at the thought of what they had been going through.
"We have to keep the children hidden as well as we can, so the nurseries are only connected to the main tunnel network temporarily, when we require access. It means that they do not get quite enough air, but the alternative is worse." She stamped her spear on the ground. "Yet still it is not enough! Somehow the killers always find their way in. We do not know what more we can do."
The talk of people wearing armour earlier had made me wonder if the attackers were advanced technologically, so I immediately thought of densitometers. They could have full, three-dimensional maps of the Nest; if so, all the hiding in the world would achieve nothing. Grandfather was wandering through the chamber, admiring the artwork; he didn't seem to have heard, though I knew he would have been listening carefully and would be formulating a plan. Still, the matron seemed to be waiting for a response, so I gulped back my tears.
"Have you thought about moving? Or digging deeper, so they can't get to you as easily?"
The matron shook her head. "The excavators cannot go any further down because the ground is too hard. And moving to a new Nest is out of the question. We can only go out at night, and are even more vulnerable on the surface." She sighed. "This was the perfect place, settled seventeen generations before me. It is an area rich in everything we need. We counted ourselves so lucky to be here."
"Until your kind came," interjected K'tak.
"Quite astonishing," said Grandfather. We all turned to stare at him; he was admiring one of the statues. After a moment he looked up as if surprised by the attention, though he didn't fool me for a moment.
"This carving is made by your excavators, correct?" I hadn't realised because I had been concentrating on other things; now, looking closer, I could see it was like papier-mâché, the same substance as the walls. It was finely detailed.
The matron was nodding. "All our artists are from the excavator phase," she said, "but what has this to do with our problem?"
"Hm? Nothing, probably nothing. It's just - well, never mind." He stood up straight. "The solution to your problem is simple. Susan and I must return to the surface, contact your enemies, and make them see the error of their ways. Hopefully they will listen to us as beings of similar form; and if they do not - well, then I shall just have to improvise, shan't I?"
"Matron," said K'tak, "do not listen to them! They will betray us at the first opportunity!"
"How can they betray us, K'tak? Their people always find the nurseries anyway, so what can they say that can possibly make anything any worse for us? No, it is time to take a chance; and I believe these two are our best opportunity."
Grandfather bowed again. "Madam, I thank you for your trust. May I take a small carving, perhaps this one?" He indicated a six-inch high model in one of the egg spaces. The matron nodded her assent. "Then I believe it is time to go."
A small group assembled: the matron, K'tak, Chot, two other guards, one excavator, Grandfather, and myself. We were just about to leave when there was another earth tremor.
"Softening us up," muttered Grandfather. We waited until everything was still then set off down the tunnel, the excavator sealing it shut behind us. Chot positioned himself beside me.
"Tell me what it is like living on the surface?"
I thought for a moment. How could I explain it to someone who couldn't even stand to be in daylight? "Well, Chot, we are travellers, and we see all kinds of different places. Some are brighter than you could imagine, some are darker than this tunnel; some are full of life, while some are completely barren. It just depends where we happen to end up."
"But which one is your home?"
"My original home is a long way away, and I don't suppose I'll ever see it again. But I've made a home in the TARDIS."
"TARDIS?"
"Our ship. It looks like a box from the outside but it's really very comfortable with plenty of space for all of us."
"So it is like a Nest?"
I thought about this, and smiled. "I suppose it is, in a way."
He nodded. "Then you are not so different, really."
The conversation continued, and it wasn't too long before we reached the highest levels. Then the rumbling began again, but this time the ground shook more violently. Grandfather and I dropped onto our hands and knees; most of the Nest people did the equivalent, though they seemed more comfortable than we on all fours. Then the roof came down in front of us, landing on top of the matron, who screamed once, then went silent. A group of about half a dozen armoured humanoids clambered down through the opening.
In the sudden light of day K'tak turned and glared at us. "I knew it! You have betrayed us, and now the matron is dead! I will kill you for that!" He leaped towards us, spear at the ready...
Oh, look at you - you're almost asleep, aren't you? Don't worry, I'll tell you what happened with the people of the Nest another day, how Grandfather and I finally met up with Ian and Barbara again; but we've gone past the part of the tale that made the biggest impression on me, that my mind hooked onto in its delirious state. There's only a little more I want to say for now. it won't take long.
Next Time:
A side trip to examine The Longest Story in the World...
Wednesday 8 August 2012
Susan's Tale, Part 4a
I've got about three quarters of the way through writing this part,
and rather than keep people waiting any longer I decided to split it
at a close-to-halfway point. Hopefully the rest will follow on or
before Monday.
Since it's been a while, here are links to the previous instalments: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3
Susan's Tale, Part 4
The thing that appeared through the wall was hideous, insectlike, with bits of earth and tunnel lining dripping from its mouth. It's strange what comes into your mind at such times. Although I was both startled and scared I found myself thinking of my comparative anatomy lessons, remembering that arthropoid mouth parts were made from a collection of small modified limbs. I stood staring at the face. My perception adjusted itself and I was no longer looking at a monster but a fascinating alien being, slightly furred, with huge eyes covering most of its head and intricate, waving feelers. I wished the light was better so that I could pick out more of the detail.
It took Grandfather anxiously calling my name to break the spell. By that time my initial panic had faded and I could take in more of what was going on. The creature wasn't quite as big as I'd thought - it had broken through high up, which gave the impression of height, but the head was not much more than a foot across. It was also waiting, not advancing further. I wondered why, when I heard a noise behind me and realised a second creature was coming through the other wall. I shrieked again - I was more easily startled in those days - and Grandfather and I backed down the tunnel as two groups of figures pushed their way out of the new openings and advanced on us. We turned to run - and found a third group waiting.
These were also arthropoid, but different from the tunnel diggers. They had hard outer casings, somewhat like Earth beetles, but only four limbs. Some of them were standing on the hind pair, holding finely-crafted spears; others were down on all fours. They had us surrounded.
One from the original hole called out to the third group. "Where are the rest of the invaders?" The voice as I heard it was female, commanding, slightly nasal; but I could also hear the series of clicks that was presumably their natural language.
"I don't know, matron." This was a male. "The vibrations were quite faint - maybe they were separated from the others of their hunting party?"
The matron shook a spear, angrily. "In which case our trap has failed. Their kin could be slaughtering our children in another part of the Nest right now!"
Grandfather stepped forward, drawing himself upright. "If I might set your mind at ease, madam, we are not-"
He paused. The creatures had all stepped back, surprised, and several weapons were pointed in his direction. The matron stepped right up to him. "How is it that you speak?"
Grandfather looked flustered. "Well, ah, I am a man of science, and I make it my business to understand all the peoples of the universe. Yes, to converse with each and every one of you! And to that end, I am a student of language, as I am of many things."
He bowed; I smiled. Grandfather often took it upon himself to bend the truth a little; sometimes it helped, sometimes it just got us into worse trouble.
The matron seemed uncertain, and the male she had spoken to before scurried up. "It could be a trap," he said.
"I don't know, K'tak. Look at their shells - they are soft and thin, not at all like the others'. We could kill these creatures with a single spear thrust."
"Then let us do so! We should end their noise and get back to tracking vibrations before the next real attack." I clutched Grandfather's arm, unsure whether to say anything or not. He made a gesture for me to wait.
K'tak started to speak again, but the matron clicked him to silence. Like Grandfather, She was taking time to things through carefully.
"Your suggestion is prudent, K'tak." I tensed, drawing in breath, but she hadn't finished speaking. "Nevertheless, I see here an opportunity for change. Every season, the unchanging ones come. They shake the ground, breaking the Nest. They hunt down our babies, slaughter them and carry off their carcases, leaving us barely enough to rebuild. We have grown better at fighting back, and we have managed to kill a few of them - but what good is that? Does it stop them coming? Does it bring our lost children back? No, this is the first time in many cycles that something new has happened. If it is a trick, we must learn why they have done it; and if not, maybe these can help us to understand their brethren."
Grandfather was listening, waiting for the right moment to interject. He was the negotiator, and normally I would have followed his lead; but he was also injured, tired, and - I had to admit it - getting old. My own self-confidence ebbed and flowed with the hormones running through my body; today I was feeling "bolshy", as Ian had occasionally said, and I felt the time had come. I let the emotions the matron's speech had stirred up come to the fore, and stepped forward.
"Of course we'll help you! It's horrible what's being done to your people!"
"Hush, child," said Grandfather, putting his hand on my shoulder; and the matron craned towards us, her nose coming within an inch of my own.
"'Child?' This one is a youngling? Then what is its purpose here?"
"I was trying to save Grandfather from falling, but I couldn't hold his weight and came down with him." It didn't sound too impressive.
"Remember that they are unchanging ones," put in K'tak. "They only differ in size as they grow, and see how much smaller it is than the white-topped one."
"Yes, but we haven't seen them with their young before. It seems they, too, have familial bonds."
"It is all lies! They are deceiving us, and must be killed!"
"Who is matron here, K'tak? I have borne four clutches for the Nest, and lost almost all. Only my youngest daughter remains." To my surprise, she reached up and gently stroked the face of the creature that had first broken through into the tunnel. Then she turned to us. "I will show you how we live here. If you truly wish to help us, you shall get your chance."
Next Time:
More of the same...
Since it's been a while, here are links to the previous instalments: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3
Susan's Tale, Part 4
The thing that appeared through the wall was hideous, insectlike, with bits of earth and tunnel lining dripping from its mouth. It's strange what comes into your mind at such times. Although I was both startled and scared I found myself thinking of my comparative anatomy lessons, remembering that arthropoid mouth parts were made from a collection of small modified limbs. I stood staring at the face. My perception adjusted itself and I was no longer looking at a monster but a fascinating alien being, slightly furred, with huge eyes covering most of its head and intricate, waving feelers. I wished the light was better so that I could pick out more of the detail.
It took Grandfather anxiously calling my name to break the spell. By that time my initial panic had faded and I could take in more of what was going on. The creature wasn't quite as big as I'd thought - it had broken through high up, which gave the impression of height, but the head was not much more than a foot across. It was also waiting, not advancing further. I wondered why, when I heard a noise behind me and realised a second creature was coming through the other wall. I shrieked again - I was more easily startled in those days - and Grandfather and I backed down the tunnel as two groups of figures pushed their way out of the new openings and advanced on us. We turned to run - and found a third group waiting.
These were also arthropoid, but different from the tunnel diggers. They had hard outer casings, somewhat like Earth beetles, but only four limbs. Some of them were standing on the hind pair, holding finely-crafted spears; others were down on all fours. They had us surrounded.
One from the original hole called out to the third group. "Where are the rest of the invaders?" The voice as I heard it was female, commanding, slightly nasal; but I could also hear the series of clicks that was presumably their natural language.
"I don't know, matron." This was a male. "The vibrations were quite faint - maybe they were separated from the others of their hunting party?"
The matron shook a spear, angrily. "In which case our trap has failed. Their kin could be slaughtering our children in another part of the Nest right now!"
Grandfather stepped forward, drawing himself upright. "If I might set your mind at ease, madam, we are not-"
He paused. The creatures had all stepped back, surprised, and several weapons were pointed in his direction. The matron stepped right up to him. "How is it that you speak?"
Grandfather looked flustered. "Well, ah, I am a man of science, and I make it my business to understand all the peoples of the universe. Yes, to converse with each and every one of you! And to that end, I am a student of language, as I am of many things."
He bowed; I smiled. Grandfather often took it upon himself to bend the truth a little; sometimes it helped, sometimes it just got us into worse trouble.
The matron seemed uncertain, and the male she had spoken to before scurried up. "It could be a trap," he said.
"I don't know, K'tak. Look at their shells - they are soft and thin, not at all like the others'. We could kill these creatures with a single spear thrust."
"Then let us do so! We should end their noise and get back to tracking vibrations before the next real attack." I clutched Grandfather's arm, unsure whether to say anything or not. He made a gesture for me to wait.
K'tak started to speak again, but the matron clicked him to silence. Like Grandfather, She was taking time to things through carefully.
"Your suggestion is prudent, K'tak." I tensed, drawing in breath, but she hadn't finished speaking. "Nevertheless, I see here an opportunity for change. Every season, the unchanging ones come. They shake the ground, breaking the Nest. They hunt down our babies, slaughter them and carry off their carcases, leaving us barely enough to rebuild. We have grown better at fighting back, and we have managed to kill a few of them - but what good is that? Does it stop them coming? Does it bring our lost children back? No, this is the first time in many cycles that something new has happened. If it is a trick, we must learn why they have done it; and if not, maybe these can help us to understand their brethren."
Grandfather was listening, waiting for the right moment to interject. He was the negotiator, and normally I would have followed his lead; but he was also injured, tired, and - I had to admit it - getting old. My own self-confidence ebbed and flowed with the hormones running through my body; today I was feeling "bolshy", as Ian had occasionally said, and I felt the time had come. I let the emotions the matron's speech had stirred up come to the fore, and stepped forward.
"Of course we'll help you! It's horrible what's being done to your people!"
"Hush, child," said Grandfather, putting his hand on my shoulder; and the matron craned towards us, her nose coming within an inch of my own.
"'Child?' This one is a youngling? Then what is its purpose here?"
"I was trying to save Grandfather from falling, but I couldn't hold his weight and came down with him." It didn't sound too impressive.
"Remember that they are unchanging ones," put in K'tak. "They only differ in size as they grow, and see how much smaller it is than the white-topped one."
"Yes, but we haven't seen them with their young before. It seems they, too, have familial bonds."
"It is all lies! They are deceiving us, and must be killed!"
"Who is matron here, K'tak? I have borne four clutches for the Nest, and lost almost all. Only my youngest daughter remains." To my surprise, she reached up and gently stroked the face of the creature that had first broken through into the tunnel. Then she turned to us. "I will show you how we live here. If you truly wish to help us, you shall get your chance."
Next Time:
More of the same...
Monday 6 August 2012
Short Trips, Farewells 19.01: The Mother Road, by Gareth Wigmore
All the stories I've reviewed so far have been (broadly) in sequence, except for those set before An Unearthly Child.
I always knew this couldn't continue forever, and wondered what it
would be like to revisit a period I'd covered earlier in my marathon. My
best guess for when this would happen was whenever I got around to
buying The Wanderer, but a comment I left regarding bethhigdon's Timelines review of The Mother Road prompted Ian Potter to lend me this book too.
It's strange. This story is set between The Aztecs and The Sensorites, not that long ago, but I've already lost a sense of how well it fits the period. Coming as it does after the TARDIS crew has settled in and before the Doctor's flare-up at the end of the next televised story I think it's a good match; but this is an intellectual calculation rather than gut feeling.
Speaking of gut feeling, my heart sank a little when I saw the author's name. I remembered disliking something by Gareth Wigmore before, though I couldn't recall what it was - so I looked it up. And felt a certain relief. My problem with Mire and Clay wasn't to do with the writing but the subject matter, and from what I remembered of bethhigdon's review this story was very unlikely to hit the same problem.
Indeed, it doesn't. This is a lovely little tale, not really an adventure at all - except in the way that normal people not hit by crises have adventures, for example when taking an extra-special holiday. Which this is, really, for all of the TARDIS crew, as they make their way across the USA along Route 66. They even sing the song! (As an aside, I don't remember any of the lyrics to that, but can manage about half of Billy Bragg's A13.)
This is an almost picaresque character piece that perfectly captures the crew in a quieter moment. The Doctor is at his most roguelike, having lost the TARDIS in a game of chance, again; Susan is in early teenage mode. The focus is on Iananbarbara, though, so this is quite an appropriate point to look at it - and in tone it's similar to Set in Stone. Hey, they even have a version of that conversation again! It's a bit different, though, since they are in their own future (2006), and thus the reasons for not jumping ship are different. It can stay.
In some ways this is not a very Hartnell-era story. There are lots of real-world 21st century details, and if I had been told about this in advance I would have said that it was a bad idea - but it works. Perhaps it's that the people are indulging in a peculiarly 20th Century activity, even though it's set later? Interestingly, I pictured the story in colour, which rarely happens with this TARDIS team.
There are so many great scenes here: Iananbarbara by the pool (just sweet), the Doctor telling a morally uplifting story to children (an in-universe expression of the Reithian vision of combined education and entertainment), the opening and closing scenes (particularly in what they tell us about the Doctor), the frozen custard one... Every moment of characterisation is spot on. Susan even makes a comment about Iananbarbara's pussyfooting around their feelings that echoes one of my own in Susan's Tale, which is nice.
I've said quite a bit about what I like in this story, but nothing so far about negatives. I've not given it 10/10, so there must be some, surely? Well... sort of. This story is not designed to be substantial, or exciting, or important; it's the kind of thing you read while dozing by the side of a pool in the California sunshine, or lying on the deck of a cruise ship. Not that I've done either of those, but really, any lazy Summer afternoon fits the bill. I wouldn't change it in any way (well, maybe the name of the eBay stand-in), but I also can't put it up there at the peak. Don't let this put you off, though - sit back with a cooling drink and read.
Oh, no, wait - there is one thing. It's link to the anthology theme of 'farewells' is exceedingly tenuous, basically a conversation between the Doctor and Susan about how they can never go home again that is only one thread of a much broader tapestry. But I don't mark it down for that!
Published:
Date: April 2006
ISBN: 1-84435-151-3
Rating:
9/10.
Next Time:
Surely it has to be the penultimate part of Susan's Tale this time?
It's strange. This story is set between The Aztecs and The Sensorites, not that long ago, but I've already lost a sense of how well it fits the period. Coming as it does after the TARDIS crew has settled in and before the Doctor's flare-up at the end of the next televised story I think it's a good match; but this is an intellectual calculation rather than gut feeling.
Speaking of gut feeling, my heart sank a little when I saw the author's name. I remembered disliking something by Gareth Wigmore before, though I couldn't recall what it was - so I looked it up. And felt a certain relief. My problem with Mire and Clay wasn't to do with the writing but the subject matter, and from what I remembered of bethhigdon's review this story was very unlikely to hit the same problem.
Indeed, it doesn't. This is a lovely little tale, not really an adventure at all - except in the way that normal people not hit by crises have adventures, for example when taking an extra-special holiday. Which this is, really, for all of the TARDIS crew, as they make their way across the USA along Route 66. They even sing the song! (As an aside, I don't remember any of the lyrics to that, but can manage about half of Billy Bragg's A13.)
This is an almost picaresque character piece that perfectly captures the crew in a quieter moment. The Doctor is at his most roguelike, having lost the TARDIS in a game of chance, again; Susan is in early teenage mode. The focus is on Iananbarbara, though, so this is quite an appropriate point to look at it - and in tone it's similar to Set in Stone. Hey, they even have a version of that conversation again! It's a bit different, though, since they are in their own future (2006), and thus the reasons for not jumping ship are different. It can stay.
In some ways this is not a very Hartnell-era story. There are lots of real-world 21st century details, and if I had been told about this in advance I would have said that it was a bad idea - but it works. Perhaps it's that the people are indulging in a peculiarly 20th Century activity, even though it's set later? Interestingly, I pictured the story in colour, which rarely happens with this TARDIS team.
There are so many great scenes here: Iananbarbara by the pool (just sweet), the Doctor telling a morally uplifting story to children (an in-universe expression of the Reithian vision of combined education and entertainment), the opening and closing scenes (particularly in what they tell us about the Doctor), the frozen custard one... Every moment of characterisation is spot on. Susan even makes a comment about Iananbarbara's pussyfooting around their feelings that echoes one of my own in Susan's Tale, which is nice.
I've said quite a bit about what I like in this story, but nothing so far about negatives. I've not given it 10/10, so there must be some, surely? Well... sort of. This story is not designed to be substantial, or exciting, or important; it's the kind of thing you read while dozing by the side of a pool in the California sunshine, or lying on the deck of a cruise ship. Not that I've done either of those, but really, any lazy Summer afternoon fits the bill. I wouldn't change it in any way (well, maybe the name of the eBay stand-in), but I also can't put it up there at the peak. Don't let this put you off, though - sit back with a cooling drink and read.
Oh, no, wait - there is one thing. It's link to the anthology theme of 'farewells' is exceedingly tenuous, basically a conversation between the Doctor and Susan about how they can never go home again that is only one thread of a much broader tapestry. But I don't mark it down for that!
Published:
Date: April 2006
ISBN: 1-84435-151-3
Rating:
9/10.
Next Time:
Surely it has to be the penultimate part of Susan's Tale this time?
Thursday 2 August 2012
The Post-Susan Gap Period
Before I leave this section of the marathon, I want to carry on with the chronological issue raised in the aftermath of The Revenants. I originally wrote this before I got a chance to read Set in Stone, so I've had to do some editing; please excuse any archaeological remnants of the first draft.
A Confused Chronology, part 7: Mind the Gap Redux
I'd like to try and fit everything I can from the gap into a coherent order. Be warned: this section contains spoilers for the stories I've reviewed...
Let's start with the easy ones:
1. Venusian Lullaby
2. The Book of Shadows
The first really has to follow straight on from Flashpoint, in the same way that The Time Travellers has to follow on from Crisis; and at the end of the book the Doctor both states his intention of going to the setting of The Book of Shadows and has the information to do so. The events of that story mess about with the timestream, though, so it makes sense that things go somewhat awry after that...
3. The Nine-Day Queen
...coupled with the creature that invades the TARDIS, necessitating an emergency landing.
4. The True and Indisputable Facts in the Matter of the Ram's Skull
5. Set in Stone
I've put these two in this order just because it means that the Doctor is getting them nearer to 1963. There is also the issue of Iananbarbara being comfortable in the TARDIS at the end of this; but it seems reasonable to say that although they are content, they would still prefer to get home!
6. The Revenants
This is fairly explicitly set up to be the last adventure before The Powerful Enemy (see Ian Potter's blog entry); I've bent the rules of my marathon now to rewatch the first TARDIS scene, and think that the writer's done a good job (if you accept the existence of any of these stories, that is).
My current, best avoidance of the problem with repeating the "nearly home" discussion is based on the fact that this is a story told by Ian. He's using dramatic license: the debate this time around would have been perfunctory and go something like, "We've talked about this before - changed your mind?" "Nah." "Me neither." But it wouldn't have worked for Jeannie, and by that point in the conversation he's learned his lesson after nearly getting sidetracked into talking about The Aztecs, so he just includes the fuller version from a previous adventure.
I am also happy to accept that the TARDIS is now so far from primeval Venus, and so battered by temporal events, that the Doctor has to give up on using the Venusian formula. Which leads to my next suggestion:
7. A Long Night
The second production run seems to me to have Iananbarbara less worried about getting home. I see now that part of this comes from the events of Set in Stone, and this probably helped when the Doctor admitted he really couldn't make the Venusian formula work straight after The Wissfornjarl. I reckon that the TARDIS crew could all have got some sleep then, and that the events of A Long Night probably reassured Barbara as well as Joan - though more talk of telepathy and family would have done nothing to ease the Doctor's renewed sense of loss, so it's not surprising that when he next woke he had Susan on his mind.
So, what of the subjects of my other two reviews? The only way Fast Return could be made to fit, occupying as it does the same space as Venusian Lullaby, would be to insert it in chapter one after Iananbarbara's dinner date and before the bit about the neutronium counter. I'd rather not, because it makes one of the things Barbara says particularly crass, but if you insist. Similarly, the Give-a-Show slides could be put in anywhere between The Nine-Day Queen and The Revenants; but it really belongs in a different continuity.
That really should be it, and I should be moving straight on to tackle Vicki's arrival; but I'm going to put it off a little longer. As mentioned last time I have a couple of stories to review out-of-order, and I also want to finish Susan's Tale.
Next Time:
The Mother Road, or the penultimate part of Susan's Tale...
A Confused Chronology, part 7: Mind the Gap Redux
I'd like to try and fit everything I can from the gap into a coherent order. Be warned: this section contains spoilers for the stories I've reviewed...
Let's start with the easy ones:
1. Venusian Lullaby
2. The Book of Shadows
The first really has to follow straight on from Flashpoint, in the same way that The Time Travellers has to follow on from Crisis; and at the end of the book the Doctor both states his intention of going to the setting of The Book of Shadows and has the information to do so. The events of that story mess about with the timestream, though, so it makes sense that things go somewhat awry after that...
3. The Nine-Day Queen
...coupled with the creature that invades the TARDIS, necessitating an emergency landing.
4. The True and Indisputable Facts in the Matter of the Ram's Skull
5. Set in Stone
I've put these two in this order just because it means that the Doctor is getting them nearer to 1963. There is also the issue of Iananbarbara being comfortable in the TARDIS at the end of this; but it seems reasonable to say that although they are content, they would still prefer to get home!
6. The Revenants
This is fairly explicitly set up to be the last adventure before The Powerful Enemy (see Ian Potter's blog entry); I've bent the rules of my marathon now to rewatch the first TARDIS scene, and think that the writer's done a good job (if you accept the existence of any of these stories, that is).
My current, best avoidance of the problem with repeating the "nearly home" discussion is based on the fact that this is a story told by Ian. He's using dramatic license: the debate this time around would have been perfunctory and go something like, "We've talked about this before - changed your mind?" "Nah." "Me neither." But it wouldn't have worked for Jeannie, and by that point in the conversation he's learned his lesson after nearly getting sidetracked into talking about The Aztecs, so he just includes the fuller version from a previous adventure.
I am also happy to accept that the TARDIS is now so far from primeval Venus, and so battered by temporal events, that the Doctor has to give up on using the Venusian formula. Which leads to my next suggestion:
7. A Long Night
The second production run seems to me to have Iananbarbara less worried about getting home. I see now that part of this comes from the events of Set in Stone, and this probably helped when the Doctor admitted he really couldn't make the Venusian formula work straight after The Wissfornjarl. I reckon that the TARDIS crew could all have got some sleep then, and that the events of A Long Night probably reassured Barbara as well as Joan - though more talk of telepathy and family would have done nothing to ease the Doctor's renewed sense of loss, so it's not surprising that when he next woke he had Susan on his mind.
So, what of the subjects of my other two reviews? The only way Fast Return could be made to fit, occupying as it does the same space as Venusian Lullaby, would be to insert it in chapter one after Iananbarbara's dinner date and before the bit about the neutronium counter. I'd rather not, because it makes one of the things Barbara says particularly crass, but if you insist. Similarly, the Give-a-Show slides could be put in anywhere between The Nine-Day Queen and The Revenants; but it really belongs in a different continuity.
That really should be it, and I should be moving straight on to tackle Vicki's arrival; but I'm going to put it off a little longer. As mentioned last time I have a couple of stories to review out-of-order, and I also want to finish Susan's Tale.
Next Time:
The Mother Road, or the penultimate part of Susan's Tale...
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