Clifford shook his head to clear any cobwebs. Yes. There was a mouse in full battle dress riding the lead cat in the pack. Clifford stood up and watched for a moment.
“Hey!” he shouted. The pack heeled back and turned to encircle him. He looked at the cats, “Can any of you talk?”
The lead cat made its way through the pack, and stopped just in front of Clifford, “I can, Clifford of Nostalgia. You know me, actually. I am Slagthor, from the Farm of Pepperidge.”
Clifford smiled, “Mittens.”
The cat bowed, “And I believe you know this guy.” He tossed his head toward the mouse, who was now standing on the ground.
Clifford swallowed. He couldn’t muster words. The mouse stood no more than four inches tall when on his haunches, but in the miniature battle dress he wore he was a giant. He walked forward slowly, and then bowed, “I thought I had lost you, Clifford Jenkins.”
Clifford dropped to his knees so suddenly that some of the cats drew back and hissed, but the mouse lifted a calming hand. Clifford wept, “Schrodinger?”
“The same. Although you never saw me like this. I imagine you’d like to know what happened after the flood in Lithe.”
Clifford nodded, “Yes. I would.” He was still awestruck.
Schrodinger spoke up, “The water carried me to the far end of the city, much farther to the south than you ever would’ve gone. I was able to tell Jaime Conner, the post-boy, to send you west. Your destiny couldn’t be stopped by my loss. I’d really like to thank Jaime. Have you seen him recently?”
Clifford shuddered, “He’s dead. The soldiers over there killed him. Nearly killed me.”
Schrodinger frowned, “I suspected so, in a way. This time the war is far more bitter than the last time.”
Clifford looked at the mouse, “Hey, it’s not like my journey’s been a walk in the park, you know? I lost you in Lithe. Followed a yokel into a land I had never seen. Lost him for a while, ran through some streets, found a gun, found Jaime, watched him die, ran from those who killed him, and then found you again.”
Schrodinger nodded, “I know, Clifford. Your road was never going to be an easy one. And I hate to tell you this, but it isn’t over yet. You still have a ways to go.”
Clifford cautiously bit his lower lip. Suddenly he didn’t think he could go on. Too many people had died. Only one person had actually died to get him here, but that was too many. Knowing that he was responsible for Jaime’s death was beginning to weigh heavier and heavier on him.
“Clifford,” the mouse stepped closer, “I know this is difficult. But I want you to know that Jaime would’ve died whether you were here or not. Fate had weaved that path for him.”
Shaking his head, Clifford fought back the sudden feeling of relief that came with Schrodinger’s words, “Why are you dressed like that?”
Schrodinger brushed off his armor, “I am in the General’s battle dress of my people.”
“Mice?”
“We are fierce warriors, Clifford Jenkins. My race is one of the oldest on Earth. You would’ve learned that at your University. I am a General. I know you think I am your mouse, but unfortunately I had to use you to speed my journey to Historia.”
Clifford shook his head, “Finish telling me about what happened to you in Lithe.”
The mouse cleared his throat, “I finally escaped the waters and took a day or so to recoup. I knew that Jaime would bring you west along the road, so I hurried back to the farm of Pepperidge and rallied the cats to our cause.”
Clifford snapped back to reality, “Our cause?”
Schrodinger nodded, “Yes, our cause. the reason you’ve come to Historia. The reason these cats are fighting.”
Clifford stood up, “You mean the cause you’ve used me for?”
“Yes,” Schrodinger said, a hint of reluctance in his voice.
Clifford turned away, “What is our cause, mouse?”
Schrodinger jumped up and landed on Clifford’s shoulder. He whispered into Clifford’s ear. The mouse then jumped down and started to walk away, the direction the cat’s were initially going. Clifford stood rooted in place, stunned.
Schrodinger stopped and looked back, “Well, are you coming or not?”
1/16/2009
Historia Soundtrack
The Songs do not necessarily reflect the action of the story, but they are what I was listening to when I wrote the scene. This probably gives you some insight into my screwed-up psyche.
Hopefully this gives you, the reader a better experience with Historia.
Leaving Nostalgia: Farewell by Avantasia (Tobias Sammet)
The Mountains of Antiquity: Faraway by Apocalyptica
New Constellations, Lucky Dice: Orion by Metallica
The King’s Valley: Rocks Tonic Juice Magic by Saves the Day
Schrodinger’s Tale, Visiting with Old Put: We are Winning by FloBots
The Farm of Pepperidge: The Parting Glass by The High Kings
Lithe, City of
The Market, The Flood: Overcome by Live
So Long, Schrodinger: Farewell by Apocalyptica
First Impressions of Historia: Giorni Dispari by Ludovico Einaudi
The Body and the Fountain:
Clifford treks through Historia: Fuori dal Mondo by Ludovico Einaudi -
Review #16: Star Wars: Shadows of the Empire
Steve Perry’s first official entry into the Star Wars universe is Shadows of the Empire. The events of this book take place between The Empire Strikes Back and Return of the Jedi, a time span that had previously remained untouched. But the release of this book came about with the release of Shadows of the Empire for the Nintendo 64.The story begins with Darth Vader's conversation with the Emperor as seen in The Empire Strikes Back, but this time we are on Palpatine's end of the call, and we learn that Prince Xizor, lord of the crime syndicate Black Sun, is standing just out of range so that Vader cannot see him.
Xizor realizes that, in order to get closer to Palpatine he has to eliminate Vader, and to start the process he decides to kill Luke Skywalker. Luke and the others, meanwhile, are tracking Boba Fett in an effort to save Han Solo.
The story also introduces Dash Rendar, hero of the video game, and his ship, The Outrider, which he boasts is faster than the Millennium Falcon. Luke and the gang reluctantly work with the arrogant Rendar and track Fett, but lose out on catching him. They travel to Coruscant and meet Prince Xizor, who they think can help them get Han back from Jabba the Hutt.
Perry's writing style lends itself well to the feeling of the movies, but the book feels like it was aimed for a younger audience.
Re-readability: 8.8
Final Grade: B+
1/15/2009
Historia, Part XVII
Wars were not common in Nostalgia. In fact, weapons themselves were not common. Of course, knives were not considered weapon, but tools. Same for axes, cleavers, machetes, and clubs. So far as anyone in Nostalgia knew, there was no one around to make war with, and even if there was, what was the point. There were so few people in the world these days that killing more of them made no sense.
The elders could recall only one war. Truth be told, it wasn’t even a war. It was barely half a battle. The King’s Valley had spilled out toward Nostalgia and the elders, who were obviously younger at the time, had raised a defense against them, and just as the inhabitants of the King’s Valley had drawn near, as the first arrow had been loosed from the bow of one of their archers (it pierced Timey’s granpappy in the shoulder), a cloud of dust rose up and the inhabitants of the King’s Valley were suddenly gone.
Clifford had heard the story only once, from Timey’s granpappy about two months before he’d died. Timey had already set his own death watch though, ‘cause his granmammy had died nearly fifteen years earlier. Clifford was only seven when Timey’s granpappy had told the story, and somehow he could remember it all.
But now, crouched down beneath a fallen tree of some kind, (we know of it as a palm tree, but the Historians for some reason called them finger trees) Clifford suddenly understood the horror of war. He had yet to be seen by the soldiers of Historia, who stood a mere ten feet away. Clifford had to get past them to reach the pyramid.
As he watched the soldiers level their guns to fire at the unseen enemy, Clifford saw young men fall dead, gaping holes in their head or chest, blood pouring onto the street. He hadn’t signed up for this. He crawled further on, hoping that he could get far enough behind the front line the Historians had set up to cross the street and make his way toward the pyramid.
It struck him as he crawled under an exposed pipeline that he would likely need a gun. He watched as two Historian soldiers emotionlessly carried the body of a fallen comrade to a heap far behind the line. He shadowed the two as best he could. The dead soldier still had a handgun in his hip holster, and if the battle was pressing enough, as Clifford hoped it was, the two body-bearers would forget the sidearm and provide Clifford with the weapon he needed.
The two men casually tossed the body onto the pile and turned back for the front line. Clifford watched them carefully. He was so out of place that it wouldn’t take much to spot him. The men disappeared into a cloud of smoke. Clifford could only wonder how long they’d be gone. He had to make his move. He strode with purpose toward the heap, un-holstered the man’s gun, and kept walking, ducking into an alleyway across the street. Once inside the alley he fumbled with the clip for just a second before opening it to see what kind of ammunition he would have. Thanks be to the gods, it was full.
He crouched down and, for a moment, studied his surroundings. The alley was dark, well protected from the afternoon sunlight that was beating down just outside. From the direction he had come he could hear gunshots and screaming. He looked up, trying to gage the height of the two buildings, and he saw another body fly across the sky. Either the enemy or the Historians were catapulting either their own or their prisoners at the other side. Judging from the direction the body had flown Clifford surmised that it was the enemy doing the body-flinging.
He started to move down the alley, pushing his way through a pile of garbage when a flailing hand smacked him hard on the side of the head, “Stop it!” The owner of the hand shouted.
Clifford stumbled against the opposite wall. He looked over to see a very scared looking Jaime Conner crouched in the fetal position and rocking violently.
“Jaime!” Clifford said, “Jaime. It’s me. Clifford.”
The post-boy stopped rocking for a moment, and then realization dawned on his face, “Clifford. You’re alive! How’d you get through the town to this point?”
Clifford shrugged, “Dumb luck, I think.” He looked ahead, further down the alley, and over to the next street, “I think the pyramid is just ahead. I have to get there.”
Jaime drew back in horror, “Oh no. Nobody gets to the pyramid. No one. Especially with a war on. We’ll be fighting the Mongols for a while. You’ll not get within a hundred feet of the pyramid without getting shot. Unless Father Time summons you.”
Clifford lowered his gaze and a muttered curse escaped his lips. That couldn’t be it. Not after all this time. Not after so many miles. Not after all he’d lost. All he’d seen.
Clifford stood up. Jaime tried to pull him back down, “Don’t stand, they’ll see you and shoot you.”
Clifford walked back toward the street. He was going home. He was defeated. Clifford walked with his head lowered, staring at the ground. Jaime got up and moved after him, crouched low. He tackled Clifford from behind, just moments before Clifford would’ve reached the street.
“Clifford, the Historian army doesn’t take well to outsiders finding their way past the front line. I know, I served for over two years. Worst time of my life. Mongols, the warriors of King’s Valley, the V-yet-cong. I fought them all. That’s why I was hiding. Don’t you see, the war is too much.”
Clifford rolled over, “Jaime. I came here with one purpose. Reach the pyramid. My goal is out of reach now. I have nothing left but to go home. Home to a town you say is deserted.”
Jaime stood up, blocking the exit of the alley, the sound of gunshots and screams still echoing behind him, “I’m not gonna let you leave while they’re fight...”
Clifford looked up and saw a small hole in the front of Jaime’s shirt. A trickle of blood came out, and then a little more. Jaime dropped to his knees, the result of which splattered blood on Clifford’s face. He caught Jaime and the two men fell backward into the garbage pile.
“He’s over here!” Clifford heard shouted. He kept an eye open in the darkness and saw the two body-bearers running toward them, “I swear, Freddie, I just shot him. Lousy deserter.”
They reached the place where Jaime and Clifford lay. Clifford couldn’t tell if Jaime was dead or not, but he did his best to play dead himself. He quietly pushed the stolen gun further under the pile of garbage, which suddenly stank.
The lead body-bearer looked back at his cohort Freddie, “There! Told you I nailed the bastard.”
Clifford kept as still as possible as the men lifted Jaime’s body off his. Freddie gasped, “Look Ted! There’s another one. Looks like your bullet got him too, though. He ain’t movin’.”
Ted nodded, “Yeah. Let’s take this piece o’ trash and toss him and we’ll come back for this other ‘un.”
They walked off, carrying Jaime Conner, post-boy from Historia, and Clifford mentally checked off another name that had fallen in his search for Historia. He waited until they were out of sight before grabbing the gun and sprinting like never before for the end of the alley.
He quickly checked the street and found that it was empty, but not quiet. The gunshot echoes carried far in Historia. He bolted diagonally across the street and down another alley. Fred and Ted would surely be after him once they realized that he hadn’t been dead and they could probably track him very easily.
He stopped and ducked between a garbage can and the steps of another building for cover. For ten minutes he watched the alley he’d run from. No one ever came out. The gunshots continued on the other street, and the screams of dying soldiers rose almost as loudly.
Clifford dropped from his crouch and just sat against the stone steps of the building. He cried for a moment. It was his fault that Jaime Conner had died. No one else to blame for it.
Clifford just sat there. The sky above was starting to turn dusky-dark. The first thought across his mind had to do with the fact that it had been a bright, sunny afternoon only minutes before and he wondered what the Historians were up to, but then he realized that he was in Historia, and they were fighting a war.
He drew his legs in closer, curling up into a ball. As he did a light burst on from the pole just a few feet away from him. Clifford, of course, had no concept of a streetlight, and just as easily assumed that this devilish brightness was the soul of Jaime Conner come to haunt him until he died.
Clifford rocked to the side and lay still. He wasn’t sleepy, or even really tired, but after what had just happened, he needed rest. As he lay there, a parade of cats went by. Clifford bolted up. Riding atop the head of the lead cat was a mouse in full battle dress.
The elders could recall only one war. Truth be told, it wasn’t even a war. It was barely half a battle. The King’s Valley had spilled out toward Nostalgia and the elders, who were obviously younger at the time, had raised a defense against them, and just as the inhabitants of the King’s Valley had drawn near, as the first arrow had been loosed from the bow of one of their archers (it pierced Timey’s granpappy in the shoulder), a cloud of dust rose up and the inhabitants of the King’s Valley were suddenly gone.
Clifford had heard the story only once, from Timey’s granpappy about two months before he’d died. Timey had already set his own death watch though, ‘cause his granmammy had died nearly fifteen years earlier. Clifford was only seven when Timey’s granpappy had told the story, and somehow he could remember it all.
But now, crouched down beneath a fallen tree of some kind, (we know of it as a palm tree, but the Historians for some reason called them finger trees) Clifford suddenly understood the horror of war. He had yet to be seen by the soldiers of Historia, who stood a mere ten feet away. Clifford had to get past them to reach the pyramid.
As he watched the soldiers level their guns to fire at the unseen enemy, Clifford saw young men fall dead, gaping holes in their head or chest, blood pouring onto the street. He hadn’t signed up for this. He crawled further on, hoping that he could get far enough behind the front line the Historians had set up to cross the street and make his way toward the pyramid.
It struck him as he crawled under an exposed pipeline that he would likely need a gun. He watched as two Historian soldiers emotionlessly carried the body of a fallen comrade to a heap far behind the line. He shadowed the two as best he could. The dead soldier still had a handgun in his hip holster, and if the battle was pressing enough, as Clifford hoped it was, the two body-bearers would forget the sidearm and provide Clifford with the weapon he needed.
The two men casually tossed the body onto the pile and turned back for the front line. Clifford watched them carefully. He was so out of place that it wouldn’t take much to spot him. The men disappeared into a cloud of smoke. Clifford could only wonder how long they’d be gone. He had to make his move. He strode with purpose toward the heap, un-holstered the man’s gun, and kept walking, ducking into an alleyway across the street. Once inside the alley he fumbled with the clip for just a second before opening it to see what kind of ammunition he would have. Thanks be to the gods, it was full.
He crouched down and, for a moment, studied his surroundings. The alley was dark, well protected from the afternoon sunlight that was beating down just outside. From the direction he had come he could hear gunshots and screaming. He looked up, trying to gage the height of the two buildings, and he saw another body fly across the sky. Either the enemy or the Historians were catapulting either their own or their prisoners at the other side. Judging from the direction the body had flown Clifford surmised that it was the enemy doing the body-flinging.
He started to move down the alley, pushing his way through a pile of garbage when a flailing hand smacked him hard on the side of the head, “Stop it!” The owner of the hand shouted.
Clifford stumbled against the opposite wall. He looked over to see a very scared looking Jaime Conner crouched in the fetal position and rocking violently.
“Jaime!” Clifford said, “Jaime. It’s me. Clifford.”
The post-boy stopped rocking for a moment, and then realization dawned on his face, “Clifford. You’re alive! How’d you get through the town to this point?”
Clifford shrugged, “Dumb luck, I think.” He looked ahead, further down the alley, and over to the next street, “I think the pyramid is just ahead. I have to get there.”
Jaime drew back in horror, “Oh no. Nobody gets to the pyramid. No one. Especially with a war on. We’ll be fighting the Mongols for a while. You’ll not get within a hundred feet of the pyramid without getting shot. Unless Father Time summons you.”
Clifford lowered his gaze and a muttered curse escaped his lips. That couldn’t be it. Not after all this time. Not after so many miles. Not after all he’d lost. All he’d seen.
Clifford stood up. Jaime tried to pull him back down, “Don’t stand, they’ll see you and shoot you.”
Clifford walked back toward the street. He was going home. He was defeated. Clifford walked with his head lowered, staring at the ground. Jaime got up and moved after him, crouched low. He tackled Clifford from behind, just moments before Clifford would’ve reached the street.
“Clifford, the Historian army doesn’t take well to outsiders finding their way past the front line. I know, I served for over two years. Worst time of my life. Mongols, the warriors of King’s Valley, the V-yet-cong. I fought them all. That’s why I was hiding. Don’t you see, the war is too much.”
Clifford rolled over, “Jaime. I came here with one purpose. Reach the pyramid. My goal is out of reach now. I have nothing left but to go home. Home to a town you say is deserted.”
Jaime stood up, blocking the exit of the alley, the sound of gunshots and screams still echoing behind him, “I’m not gonna let you leave while they’re fight...”
Clifford looked up and saw a small hole in the front of Jaime’s shirt. A trickle of blood came out, and then a little more. Jaime dropped to his knees, the result of which splattered blood on Clifford’s face. He caught Jaime and the two men fell backward into the garbage pile.
“He’s over here!” Clifford heard shouted. He kept an eye open in the darkness and saw the two body-bearers running toward them, “I swear, Freddie, I just shot him. Lousy deserter.”
They reached the place where Jaime and Clifford lay. Clifford couldn’t tell if Jaime was dead or not, but he did his best to play dead himself. He quietly pushed the stolen gun further under the pile of garbage, which suddenly stank.
The lead body-bearer looked back at his cohort Freddie, “There! Told you I nailed the bastard.”
Clifford kept as still as possible as the men lifted Jaime’s body off his. Freddie gasped, “Look Ted! There’s another one. Looks like your bullet got him too, though. He ain’t movin’.”
Ted nodded, “Yeah. Let’s take this piece o’ trash and toss him and we’ll come back for this other ‘un.”
They walked off, carrying Jaime Conner, post-boy from Historia, and Clifford mentally checked off another name that had fallen in his search for Historia. He waited until they were out of sight before grabbing the gun and sprinting like never before for the end of the alley.
He quickly checked the street and found that it was empty, but not quiet. The gunshot echoes carried far in Historia. He bolted diagonally across the street and down another alley. Fred and Ted would surely be after him once they realized that he hadn’t been dead and they could probably track him very easily.
He stopped and ducked between a garbage can and the steps of another building for cover. For ten minutes he watched the alley he’d run from. No one ever came out. The gunshots continued on the other street, and the screams of dying soldiers rose almost as loudly.
Clifford dropped from his crouch and just sat against the stone steps of the building. He cried for a moment. It was his fault that Jaime Conner had died. No one else to blame for it.
Clifford just sat there. The sky above was starting to turn dusky-dark. The first thought across his mind had to do with the fact that it had been a bright, sunny afternoon only minutes before and he wondered what the Historians were up to, but then he realized that he was in Historia, and they were fighting a war.
He drew his legs in closer, curling up into a ball. As he did a light burst on from the pole just a few feet away from him. Clifford, of course, had no concept of a streetlight, and just as easily assumed that this devilish brightness was the soul of Jaime Conner come to haunt him until he died.
Clifford rocked to the side and lay still. He wasn’t sleepy, or even really tired, but after what had just happened, he needed rest. As he lay there, a parade of cats went by. Clifford bolted up. Riding atop the head of the lead cat was a mouse in full battle dress.
Historia, Part XVI
Clifford’s path was littered with broken glass, toppled trees, and splintered wood-boards. He could only figure that a massive amount of fighting had taken place here. (He would’ve been right in that assumption, but it was also the same amount of damage that had once been done when a bakery had exploded as a result of too much yeast having been added to a simple muffin.) Clifford could hear muffled gunfire up ahead, probably no more than five blocks from where he stood.
Jaime Conner was long gone, possibly, Clifford thought sadly, already killed in the melee awaiting him. Clifford really couldn’t afford such thoughts. His destiny was sitting in the top of that pyramid. Each step closer somehow revealed more in his mind, letting him know exactly what he had to do and how he had to get it done. He dropped his bundle and guitar. They were no longer any use to him. Well, maybe some use. He took them and hid them in an alley beside the house of Shakespeare.
As he walked back around the corner he heard a sound much like a scream. He looked up just in time to see a body fly over the rooftop and crash into the fountain. Clifford ran toward the man, only to realize that there wasn’t much man left when he got there. The body was shattered and broken, the blood quickly overtaking the water.
“Oh my...” was all Clifford could gasp.
Then the body twitched and lifted a hand. Clifford leaned in close; he could tell the person was whispering.
“What?” Clifford said, “Tell your last and ease your passing.”
“Fight... fight the cats.” Then the person was gone. Clifford looked up to see if another body was coming his way, but the sky was clear.
He turned his back on the fountain and started walking once more, this time with a little more purpose than before. He was thinking about all those that had gone before him, and somehow, deep within his mind, he realized that everyone he had ever known was paving the path of destiny for him. No matter how little of long of a time they’d been in his life, each person was just another signpost toward Historia and this moment.
He stepped out to the middle of the street and began the final push to the statue-topped pyramid. As he walked determinedly toward it, a massive explosion rocked the top of the pyramid and the statue toppled forward. As it smashed into the side of the pyramid the cannon-arm went off and a long blast of fire shot forward. Clifford, even in his own mind, didn’t care to guess the number of dead from that.
Glancing back only once, Clifford could still see that arm of the broken person laying on the rim of the fountain. It occurred to him that the person he had spoken to as they lay broken and dying in the fountain could very well be Jaime Conner.
Fight the cats. It echoed with each muffled gunblast. Fight the cats. Clifford’s mind leapt back to the farm of Pepperidge, where he’d seen a cat army fighting against the warriors from the King’s Valley. But that seemed like so long ago. How long? Possibly years, but he was sure it was no more than a week or two at best. Then again, Jaime Conner had told him that Nostalgia was now a ghost town, so Clifford had given up on grasping reality.
Clifford slowly rounded a corner (there was no straight path to the pyramid, he had to follow the streets as best he could), crouching down, and entered the fray. Along both ends of a narrow street were embattlements, and Clifford could see the tops of the soldiers heads. He knelt down and crawled along the side, staying under cover as much as he could. The gunfire continued, each percussive blast ringing in his ears, and he suddenly wished he was back home in Nostalgia.
But he couldn’t go back. Not after all he’d come through. No. The pyramid was his to reach, or die in the trying. And he had to fight the cats.
Jaime Conner was long gone, possibly, Clifford thought sadly, already killed in the melee awaiting him. Clifford really couldn’t afford such thoughts. His destiny was sitting in the top of that pyramid. Each step closer somehow revealed more in his mind, letting him know exactly what he had to do and how he had to get it done. He dropped his bundle and guitar. They were no longer any use to him. Well, maybe some use. He took them and hid them in an alley beside the house of Shakespeare.
As he walked back around the corner he heard a sound much like a scream. He looked up just in time to see a body fly over the rooftop and crash into the fountain. Clifford ran toward the man, only to realize that there wasn’t much man left when he got there. The body was shattered and broken, the blood quickly overtaking the water.
“Oh my...” was all Clifford could gasp.
Then the body twitched and lifted a hand. Clifford leaned in close; he could tell the person was whispering.
“What?” Clifford said, “Tell your last and ease your passing.”
“Fight... fight the cats.” Then the person was gone. Clifford looked up to see if another body was coming his way, but the sky was clear.
He turned his back on the fountain and started walking once more, this time with a little more purpose than before. He was thinking about all those that had gone before him, and somehow, deep within his mind, he realized that everyone he had ever known was paving the path of destiny for him. No matter how little of long of a time they’d been in his life, each person was just another signpost toward Historia and this moment.
He stepped out to the middle of the street and began the final push to the statue-topped pyramid. As he walked determinedly toward it, a massive explosion rocked the top of the pyramid and the statue toppled forward. As it smashed into the side of the pyramid the cannon-arm went off and a long blast of fire shot forward. Clifford, even in his own mind, didn’t care to guess the number of dead from that.
Glancing back only once, Clifford could still see that arm of the broken person laying on the rim of the fountain. It occurred to him that the person he had spoken to as they lay broken and dying in the fountain could very well be Jaime Conner.
Fight the cats. It echoed with each muffled gunblast. Fight the cats. Clifford’s mind leapt back to the farm of Pepperidge, where he’d seen a cat army fighting against the warriors from the King’s Valley. But that seemed like so long ago. How long? Possibly years, but he was sure it was no more than a week or two at best. Then again, Jaime Conner had told him that Nostalgia was now a ghost town, so Clifford had given up on grasping reality.
Clifford slowly rounded a corner (there was no straight path to the pyramid, he had to follow the streets as best he could), crouching down, and entered the fray. Along both ends of a narrow street were embattlements, and Clifford could see the tops of the soldiers heads. He knelt down and crawled along the side, staying under cover as much as he could. The gunfire continued, each percussive blast ringing in his ears, and he suddenly wished he was back home in Nostalgia.
But he couldn’t go back. Not after all he’d come through. No. The pyramid was his to reach, or die in the trying. And he had to fight the cats.
Review #15: Star Wars: Vector Prime
R. A. Salvatore’s Vector Prime is the first book in the New Jedi Order series, introducing a new villain, the Yuuzhan Vong. It is also the first Star Wars book to generate death threats for its author. Why? Because Salvatore does what so few Star Wars authors are given the chance to do. He kills off a main character. This book will not be remembered for the way it introduced the Vong to readers, or the way it revealed the Solo kids as they are growing up, but it will forever be known as the book in which a moon fell on Chewbacca.
That’s right, Chewie, the lovable eight-foot-tall Wookiee, dies trying to save other people from a moon that is falling in on its planet. Han Solo, sadly, has to watch the Wookiee perish as his son Anakin flies everyone to safety, having to leave Chewbacca behind. Han falls into a depression that will last for several books.
The new enemy, the extra-galactic Yuuzhan Vong, shows signs of promise as enemies go. They don’t have the limitations that the Empire had, and they are certainly far more brutal and vicious than Palpatine or Vader ever were.
Otherwise, Salvatore’s writing is very sound, but a little slow in places. He’s more a fantasy than sci-fi writer, and it shows. The early parts of the book, with Nom Anor controlling the Rhamomool-Osarian conflict and slowly poisoning Mara Jade feel like a swamp that the reader has to push through to get to the actual action.
The New Jedi Order series spans 19 novels and 13 authors. As opening books for a series go, this one does a good job of setting the tone. Finally, it seems, the heroes are no longer invincible.
Re-readability: 8.9
Final Grade: B+
1/14/2009
Review #14: Star Wars: Shatterpoint
Shatterpoint, a Clone Wars novel by Matthew Stover, displays Stover’s true ability to write Star Wars and make it something darker than George Lucas ever dreamed. The novel takes Jedi Master Mace Windu back to his home planet of Haruun Kal, where he is searching for missing Jedi Master Depa Bilaba. The story introduces a few minor characters, some that you can’t stand and others that you wish you could see more of. Kar Vastor, the insanely powerful warrior, is one you’d like to see more of. The incessant little soldier Nick Rostu should’ve gone by the wayside in this story, and yet, for years after the Clone Wars he’s still popping up in stories.
That annoying little tidbit aside, Stover’s story in this novel is one of the best Star Wars reads you’re going to find. The guerilla warfare is stark and far more gruesome than any Star Wars warfare we’ve seen to date. Stover actually talks about missing limbs and vaporized bodies, along with the blood and gore you’d expect in warfare.
Mace Windu, at one point, has a Force vision of Coruscant covered in the jungle terrain of Haruun Kal. Likely this is a nod to the New Jedi Order and the Yuuzhan Vong conquest of Coruscant in the soon-to-be-reviewed Star by Star by Troy Denning.
The novel takes its name from a special talent of Mace Windu. He can see shatterpoints, or the places on a Corsuca gem where he would have to chip away a bit to make it work optimally in a lightsaber. Windu can see shatterpoints in everyday life. If this novel had been written by a lesser Star Wars author, well, there’s no way anyone else who could have pulled this off.
Re-readability: 9.5
Final Grade: A+
1/13/2009
Review #13: Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith
I have read every single novelization of the Star Wars movies, and this one takes the cake. In talking to some of 
my friends, we came to the conclusion that Matthew Stover's novelization of Revenge of the Sith should've been used as the screenplay. I know that I usually say that a book is better than a movie, and usually I'm right (the lone exception so far being Steve Perry's novelization of Men in Black), and Stover doesn't disappoint in that regard.
From the opening page, containing a chillingly cryptic warning (paraphrased here to avoid legal entanglement: these events are over, they happened long ago, nothing can be done to change them), to the end of the book, and all throughout, as Stover gives the reader glimpses of what it's like to be Anakin Skywalker as he spirals toward his destiny as Darth Vader.
The fight between Anakin and Obi-Wan proves to be beautifully written. The little interludes between chapters, as the story dives into the psyche of different characters, provide the reader with new insight into the events surrounding Palpatine's rise to Emperor.
Stover is one of my favorite Star Wars authors. He now has 4 books out, Traitor, Revenge of the Sith, Shatterpoint, and Luke Skywalker and the Shadows of Mindor. Why they chose that title for the last book I'll never know, but it completely breaks the tradition of Stover's prowess with the galaxy far, far away. But if the writing within is anywhere near half as good as Revenge of the Sith, well, I'll probably forgive him.
Re-readability: 9.9
Final Grade: A++
my friends, we came to the conclusion that Matthew Stover's novelization of Revenge of the Sith should've been used as the screenplay. I know that I usually say that a book is better than a movie, and usually I'm right (the lone exception so far being Steve Perry's novelization of Men in Black), and Stover doesn't disappoint in that regard.From the opening page, containing a chillingly cryptic warning (paraphrased here to avoid legal entanglement: these events are over, they happened long ago, nothing can be done to change them), to the end of the book, and all throughout, as Stover gives the reader glimpses of what it's like to be Anakin Skywalker as he spirals toward his destiny as Darth Vader.
The fight between Anakin and Obi-Wan proves to be beautifully written. The little interludes between chapters, as the story dives into the psyche of different characters, provide the reader with new insight into the events surrounding Palpatine's rise to Emperor.
Stover is one of my favorite Star Wars authors. He now has 4 books out, Traitor, Revenge of the Sith, Shatterpoint, and Luke Skywalker and the Shadows of Mindor. Why they chose that title for the last book I'll never know, but it completely breaks the tradition of Stover's prowess with the galaxy far, far away. But if the writing within is anywhere near half as good as Revenge of the Sith, well, I'll probably forgive him.
Re-readability: 9.9
Final Grade: A++
1/12/2009
Review #12: Star Wars: Darth Bane: Rule of Two
The second installment in the Darth Bane series by Drew Karpyshyn is Rule of Two. The book picks up
immediately after the end of Path of Destruction, and follows Darth Bane and his new apprentice, Darth Zannah, as they try to correct the past mistakes of the Sith. Star Wars fans, expecially those who follow the stories of the expanded universe, know that Bane reorganized the Sith, and in the course of this reorganization, he was covered in a parasite called orbalisks. These creature amplified his Force power, but were slowly killing him. So over the course of this book we see Bane gain the creatures, and then have them removed in very painful fashion.
Also, one of the most important events in this novel is Bane's attempt to make a Sith Holocron, a repository of Dark Side knowledge. He fails on more than one attempt.
Once again, though, Karpyshyn falls into the trap of trying to marry the old storyline with the new, and in so doing creates a character that is a Chiss, a species that is not discovered in the Star Wars chronology until about six years after the events of The Phantom Menace, in other words, nearly a thousand years after this story takes place.
It's hard to fault Karpyshyn for this, though, because he's trying to weave together a story between two established timelines, and he's trying his darnedest to keep everything in order. Naturally, some things will slip through the cracks. Overall, though, this story is more enjoyable than Path of Destruction, but I think that comes from now having an established character in Darth Bane.
Re-readability: 9.0
Final Grade: B+
immediately after the end of Path of Destruction, and follows Darth Bane and his new apprentice, Darth Zannah, as they try to correct the past mistakes of the Sith. Star Wars fans, expecially those who follow the stories of the expanded universe, know that Bane reorganized the Sith, and in the course of this reorganization, he was covered in a parasite called orbalisks. These creature amplified his Force power, but were slowly killing him. So over the course of this book we see Bane gain the creatures, and then have them removed in very painful fashion.Also, one of the most important events in this novel is Bane's attempt to make a Sith Holocron, a repository of Dark Side knowledge. He fails on more than one attempt.
Once again, though, Karpyshyn falls into the trap of trying to marry the old storyline with the new, and in so doing creates a character that is a Chiss, a species that is not discovered in the Star Wars chronology until about six years after the events of The Phantom Menace, in other words, nearly a thousand years after this story takes place.
It's hard to fault Karpyshyn for this, though, because he's trying to weave together a story between two established timelines, and he's trying his darnedest to keep everything in order. Naturally, some things will slip through the cracks. Overall, though, this story is more enjoyable than Path of Destruction, but I think that comes from now having an established character in Darth Bane.
Re-readability: 9.0
Final Grade: B+
1/11/2009
Review #11: Star Wars: Darth Bane: Path of Destruction
Darth Bane: Path of Destruction
is Drew Karpyshyn's first entry into the Star Wars universe, and takes place nearly a thousand years before the prequel trilogy. As evidenced by the title, this novel reveals part of the backstory of Darth Bane, the Sith Lord who created the rule of two, a Sith teaching that stated that there could only be two Sith at one time, a Master and an Apprentice. That teaching isn't entirely established in this novel, but it's genesis certainly rests in the pages.
Karpyshyn weaves together a good tale, bringing Darth Bane to life from his time as an apprentice up until he takes on the mantle of Sith Lord, reviving the Darth title and destroying the Brotherhood of Darkness.
But Karpyshyn falls victim to an all-to-familiar trait among Star Wars authors. He tries to bring in elements of stories that take places many years later in the chronology. The most glaring example in this book is when Darth Bane uses a style of lightsaber combat that won't be developed for another thousand years.
Otherwise, Karpyshyn puts together a great story and really makes you want to see more of Darth Bane and find out just what exactly he's about.
Re-readability: 8.9
Final Grade: B
is Drew Karpyshyn's first entry into the Star Wars universe, and takes place nearly a thousand years before the prequel trilogy. As evidenced by the title, this novel reveals part of the backstory of Darth Bane, the Sith Lord who created the rule of two, a Sith teaching that stated that there could only be two Sith at one time, a Master and an Apprentice. That teaching isn't entirely established in this novel, but it's genesis certainly rests in the pages.Karpyshyn weaves together a good tale, bringing Darth Bane to life from his time as an apprentice up until he takes on the mantle of Sith Lord, reviving the Darth title and destroying the Brotherhood of Darkness.
But Karpyshyn falls victim to an all-to-familiar trait among Star Wars authors. He tries to bring in elements of stories that take places many years later in the chronology. The most glaring example in this book is when Darth Bane uses a style of lightsaber combat that won't be developed for another thousand years.
Otherwise, Karpyshyn puts together a great story and really makes you want to see more of Darth Bane and find out just what exactly he's about.
Re-readability: 8.9
Final Grade: B
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