Tansy Rayner Roberts's Blog, page 41

Listening To Random Musketeers (2002)

One of my favourite, more obscure characters from the original The Three Musketeers novel is Madame de Chevreuse – AKA Marie de Rohan AKA Mademoiselle Monbazon AKA the Duchesse de Chevreuse.

She’s the queen’s friend, the cardinal’s enemy, the Duke of Buckingham’s co-conspirator and romantic enabler and oh yes, she has romantic/sexual ties to two of the Three Musketeers. Fair enough that most movies don’t include her in the adaptation since Dumas never let her appear in person in the novel. But she’s SO IMPORTANT.

Ahem. My point is, she’s not commonly found in Musketeer adaptations. So imagine my surprise on relistening to Big Finish’s Doctor Who/Musketeer adventure, “The Church and the Crown,” to discover that this particular story features Chevreuse, but none of the actual named Musketeers from Dumas’ story.

It’s not an adaptation of The Three Musketeers at all, in other words, but a Doctor Who story set in the time period that inspired the book. The main historical characters from Real History™ – King Louis, Queen Anne of Austria, Madame de Chevreuse, the Duke of Buckingham and Cardinal Richelieu – are all in play, but even the real life Musketeers who supposedly inspired our boys: Auteville, Aramitz & Du Vallon, are absent.

The Church and the Crown (Big Finish Main Range 38)

Written By: Cavan Scott and Mark Wright

Directed By: Gary Russell

There are Musketeers in the story, and they are indeed involved in the traditional duels-and-fisticuffs against the Red Guard, but their names are Rouffet and Delmarre.

Being a Musketeer story but not that Musketeer story does not mean that Dumas’s classic text is ignored – indeed, the script is littered with in-jokes and tidbits that acknowledge that most people’s awareness of this era comes from a single literary source:

1) There’s a tavern called Planchet’s.

2) When Peri casually assumes Richelieu is a villain, the Doctor gives her a lecture on how he was actually one of the best things that happened to Paris, and Dumas “had a lot to answer for” in immortalising the Cardinal as an antagonist. He also notes that Dumas took no notice at all of the Doctor’s notes on his original manuscript…

3) Later on, our actual ‘real life’ Musketeers, Rouffet and Delmarre, make reference to the Matter of the Queen’s Diamonds as a past adventure, noting that all the credit for it went to some Gascon peasant and “those thugs” which suggests that Athos, Aramis, Porthos and D’Artagnan do at least have some existence in this reality.

4) Most of all, there’s the giant Dumas-shaped elephant in the room, which is that the main plot revolves around how Peri (Nicola Bryant), the Doctor’s companion, looks and sounds exactly like the Queen of France (also played by Nicola Bryant).

This is clever in several respects. There’s a long history of casual dopplegangers in Doctor Who, with multiple stories featuring a character (sometimes villain, sometimes not) who happens to look exactly like the Doctor or one of his companions and is played by the same actor for maximum narrative effect. Notably, in The Massacre (1965), the First Doctor (William Hartnell) and his companion Steven Taylor landed in France in time to witness the Massacre of St Bartholomew’s Eve (only a generation earlier than the reign of King Louis XIII), and the Doctor turned out to be a dead ringer for the Abbot of Amboise, a Richelieu-style figure.

It’s also clever, of course, because Dumas is well known for the ‘looks exactly like that other fellow’ trope, thanks to the Musketeer sequel story The Man in the Iron Mask.

So if “The Church and the Crown” (2002) doesn’t have Musketeers – or at least, not our Musketeers, then what does it have? Everything else, really. The Doctor, Peri and their new companion (former Egyptian pharaoh) Erimem, get to experience the sights, smells and sounds of 1626 Paris street life as well as the French Court.

Nicola Bryant’s Queen Anne is older and more world-weary than most film versions of the character – taking a leaf out of Catherine Deneuve’s book, which is nice to see. The tensions between Anne and Louis come across strongly, with references to a past affair between the Queen and the Duke of Buckingham which the King cannot forgive. Louis himself is a complex figure – spoiled and childish at times, and constantly feeling he needs to reassert his status. I enjoyed Andrew MacKay’s performance which reminded me a lot of Ryan Gage’s take on the character in the recent BBC series.

Cardinal Richelieu comes across as a more complex character than Dumas or the various media adaptions usually allow for, and I found it particularly interesting that he and Queen Anne are portrayed as closer allies with each other than with the King – the part where Louis imprisons Richelieu and Anne punishes him thoroughly because of the sheer stupidity of his action is very enjoyable, not only because it sets us up for a wonderful scene later in which former-Pharoah Erimem loses her temper and lectures both monarchs on appropriate royal behaviour.

It’s also clear that Buckingham is the viler of the villainous choices, which is far more entertaining than when we are (usually) expected to sympathise with him.

All in all, there’s a lot to like about this Musketeery romp, as a Doctor Who audio play and as a love letter to the era that created The Three Musketeers, even if there is a tragic lack of Athos. As for Chevreuse… well, I didn’t love where the character went, as there was far too much focus on her romantic interest in Buckingham (ugh) than her political machinations. But I did enjoy that there were several scenes with multiple women talking about the plot, not just frocks and feelings.

This Musketeer Media Monday post was brought to you by the paid sponsors of Musketeer Space, all 80+ of them. You guys rule! Previous posts in this series include:

Musketeers in an Exciting Adventure With Airships (2011)

Musketeers Are All For Love (1993)

Looks Good in Leather: BBC Musketeer Edition Part I (2014)

You Can Leave Your Hat On: BBC Musketeer Edition Part II (2014)

It’s Raining Musketeers: BBC Musketeer Edition Part III (2014)

Mickey Mouse the Musketeer (2004)

Musketeers Crack Me Up Seventies Style (1973)

Musketeer in Pink (2009)

Musketeers Break My Heart Seventies Style (1974)

Musketeers in Technicolor (1948)

Musketeer on Mars (2008, 2012)

Bat’Magnan and the Mean Musketeers (2001)

Russian Musketeers Own My Soul (1979)

All the Musketeer Ladies (2015)

K-Drama Musketeers Shoot Horses, Don’t They? (2014)

Dogtanian’s War on Moustaches (1981)

Robotech Rewatch 56: I WAS NOT EXPECTING DINOSAURS

I’m pretty sure I never saw this one back in the day, even though I was still watching obsessively in the hope of catching some snippets of news about the Admirals Hunter, or whatever happened to Dana Sterling.

I would have remembered the dinosaurs, right?

Episode 69: The Genesis Pit

The narrator explains the complex relationship between the Invid and protoculture. It sounds a lot like they travel from planet to planet, eating stuff and talking about how it advances science, like intergalactic stoners with pretentions to academia.

Scott, Rand and Annie park the Veritech and hunt the woods for a good camping spot while waiting for the others to catch up. Within two seconds, they fall into a massive pit, Alice in Wonderland style, and fall through an energy field into some kind of distant underground lake. Honestly, you can’t take them anywhere.

At this point I was idly musing thoughts like: Are there gonna be dinosaurs? They fell pretty far under the Earth. I’m hoping for some Lost World business. Oooh there is a horde of giant dragonflies and some alien-looking plants…

AND THEN A FREAKING DINOSAUR CAME UP OUT OF THE WATER.

This is officially my favourite episode of this whole Invid saga so far.

Not long after this major plot twist, Rand actually says ‘do you think this is some kind of Lost World’ which, way to show your sources!

So while half of the gang are biking away from giant underground dinosaurs, Lancer, Lunk and Rook are still up top, searching the area for their friends, not seeing any sign of the pit. Is it… a magically disguised pit, or are they just really bad at this?

Enormous heap of triceratopses! Lovely!

Annie tap dances on top of a giant egg and manages to say “I’m being careful, what can happen anyway?” just in time for a giant tyrannosaurus rex to attack her.

Rand and Scott shoot it, but are understandably pissed at Annie for her poor dinosaur egg etiquette. Hey, I think we should just all be grateful she hasn’t tried to crack on to any of these dinosaurs yet. Some of them must surely be older men.

Rand keeps spotting random Invid behind the trees, but the others never see them and assume he’s imagining it. Because of course when you’re surrounded by dinosaurs, you’re going to start hallucinating Invid to… nope, can’t think of a reason.

Rand fishes for their dinner and is shocked that their dinner is just as much a prehistoric creature as all the other dinosaurs. Really? Have you not yet come to terms with the premise of this episode?

Diplodocus are delicious.

While eating something that should have died out millions of years ago, Rand thinks it all out in his brain and comes up with a theory why the Invid would be experimenting with Earth prehistoric biology – to find the best life form to take over this planet.

I don’t know, I kind of think the Invid have proven themselves to be the best life form so far, but okay, let’s go with that.

Obviously Rand’s too smart, because he not only bedazzles Scott with his thinky thoughts, but then an Invid starts speaking to him by possessing Annie – and confirms that Rand is correct, it’s all about evolution and finding something to replace humans.

Again, don’t the INVID want to replace the humans with themselves?

Anyway, what follows is basically a knock down, drag out, dinosaurs vs. Invid battle. Also, Rand gives us a lecture about how dinosaurs really aren’t built for this planet any more, so it’s okay that the Invid blew them all up.

I really hope that all the kids at home with Robotech toys in the 80′s acted out their own dinosaur vs. Invid battles too.

This weekly rewatch of classic animated space opera Robotech is brought to you as bonus content for the Musketeer Space project.

Thanks to everyone who has linked, commented, or sponsored me.

You can support Musketeer Space at Patreon.

Issue #1 – X-Men ’92

Title: X-Men ‘92

Writers: Chris Sims & Chad Bowers

Artists: Scott Koblish (art), Matt Millev (colour)

The Buzz: It’s a comic loosely based on what the X-Men looked like in the early 90’s, both in the animated series (which taught me everything I knew about the X-Men for years) AND the comics which were weirdly similar in many ways. The writers recently appeared on the Rachel & Miles X-Plain the X-Men podcast and it sounded like they were having a whale of a time writing this super fun comic. But really, you put 90’s Jubilee and her bubblegum pink accents on a comic cover, I’m gonna buy it.

All You Need To Know: It’s still the whole Battleworld schtick: all of the Marvel universes have been destroyed, various versions of the characters are living in distinct isolated territories, whatever. Don’t worry about it. You might get an extra layer of in-jokes if your concept of X-Men was forged in the 90’s (everything happens at the mall!) but basically, it’s all explained – Magneto’s dead, Senator Kelly is the ruling Baron, and the X-Men are happily protecting mankind from giant robots on a regular basis, mostly at the mall.

Story: It’s the classic X-Men team up, only they’re playing laser tag at the mall. Watch Wolverine snark at Cyclops! Watch Jean Grey be warmly tolerant. Watch Gambit be a pushy flirt and Rogue call him on it in her beautifully rendered Southern Accent. It’s X-Men, sugah! Oh and there’s some politics stuff to do with Cyclops vs. Professor X and whether Baron Kelly is a bad guy or not. I don’t care, it’s all awesome and there are fights with banter! (Hugs comic)

Art: Exactly what you would want from a comic with this premise – the colouring in particular is a masterwork in nostalgia, especially the neon greens and the shades of yellow and pink that mean ‘Jubilee’ in every language. Did I mention Jubilee is great in this? JUBILEE! This is one of those comics designed to be read as digital first, which means cool effects like panels appearing in stages, layers building up as you swipe across, and so on. Very nicely done.

But What Did I Miss?: It’s a pretty good Issue 1, setting up their immediate backstory – the Westchester Wars – and the conflicts between the characters. It also works primer for new X-Men readers, as the animated series was before it. It’s also kid-friendly so far, which is great to see. This is basically the comic I needed in the actual 90′s when the cartoon made me think I’d like X-Men comics but all the ones I picked up confused the hell out of me.

Would Read Issue 2?: Wayyy ahead of you.

Read it if you Like: THE NINETIES, Jubilation Lee, Rogue and Gambit’s phonetic accents, and bubblegum pink.

Previously reviewed:

Thor #1 (2014)

Spider-Woman #1 (2014)

All-New Captain America #1 (2014)

Captain America & the Mighty Avengers #1 (2014)

S.H.I.E.L.D. #1 (2014)

The Unbeatable Squirrel Girl #1 (2015)

Bitch Planet #1 (2014)

Secret Six #1 (2014)

Operation: S.I.N. #1

Spider-Gwen #1

Curb Stomp #1

Jem & the Holograms #1

Silk #1

Issue #1 – Convergence Special – Oracle, JLI, Batgirl

Issue #1 – Battleworld Special: Lady Kate, Ms America & Inferno

Friday Links Rides With Lady Justice

It’s been a week full of rainbows. Thanks to the US Supreme Court bringing in equal marriage, Australian politicians are finally acknowledging that it might be worth asking if that’s what our country wants too. (Spoilers: yes, for the majority it totally is)

One article doing the rounds on Facebook looks at the idea that equal marriage threatens “traditional marriage” quite seriously: because it challenges traditional gender roles. The people who are against same sex marriage are often the same people out there talking about how single mothers are terrible, or working mothers shouldn’t be putting their kids in childcare, or men shouldn’t be taking their share of domestic responsibilities. Equality: it’s for everybody.

As Alisa said on Facebook about the idea of “traditional marriage”: the current version was tweaked in 2004, it’s barely got cobwebs on it. Yep, that would be the 2004 Marriage Act Amendment which defined marriage in Australian law as being between a man and a woman. I predict a lot of inverted commas around the word traditional for the foreseeable future. And a whole lot more equality rainbows.

Melissa Benoist shares her excitement about the upcoming Supergirl series. I can’t believe the whole thing with people mocking the trailer based on the Black Widow parody became such a big deal that the lead actress had to comment on it – oh wait, it’s a way to criticise a female-led property, of course it went viral. People, Supergirl is SUPPOSED to be a single girl in the city story, that’s what the origins of the story are only about. There’s a big difference between poking fun at the idea that Hollywood only knows how to tell one kind of story about, and suggesting that no one (not even women) should ever tell that story. [or to put it another way: making fun of how Hollywood portrays women and making fun of women are two different jokes, or at least they should be, but one of them is clever and rare, and the other happens all the freaking time.]

The Mary Sue also posted a Supergirl timeline recently, looking at the early history of women with the title Superwoman or Supergirl (mostly Lois and Lana) as well as Kara herself.

Speaking of sexism and Hollywood, these quotes from an interview with several female performers and producers were really telling, especially Anna Faris comparing Chris Pratt’s (her husband) community with the bros he works with, versus her lack of community because female actors so rarely work with each other. I hope she starts doing that brunch.

Earlier, Rose McGowan shared her tips for how to stand up to sexism in Hollywood, many of which apply to other creative industries as well.

Julia Gillard’s advice to Hillary Clinton: call out the sexism early and often, because it won’t go away on its own.

Everyday Sexism put up a great comic doing the rounds which emphasises the sad absurdity of how society treats sexual consent, by asking what would happen if we treated other consent the same way. I think the looks on the faces in each final panel says it all.

Musketeer Space Part 58: Cold Hands, Red Cloak

It’s Musketeer Day!

When I was writing this, I thought there were only three chapters to go, but an unexpected house got in the way. You will meet him next week.

Soooo close to finishing.

Remember that if you want to receive an ebook of the entire book (slightly revised), you will need to sign up to be a Patreon supporter before the end of this month. If you sign up at the $2 level you will also receive a collection of the essays and supporting material I’ve been working on while writing this, not all of which has appeared on the blog.

THANK YOU FOR READING AND SUPPORTING MUSKETEER SPACE!

Start reading Musketeer Space from Part 1

Missed the last installment? Track back to Part 57

Read a festive Musketeer Space prequel, “Seven Days of Joyeux.”

Main Page & Table of Contents

PREVIOUSLY ON MUSKETEER SPACE:

Milord escaped custody and poisoned Conrad at the Convent of the Carmelline, in the snowy mountains of northern Castellion, on Valour. He was pretending to be a nun at the time. Milord, not Conrad. Sad times for Dana

NOW READ ON:

Chapter 58 – Cold Hands, Red Cloak

Dana stayed on the snowy landing until warm hands came to take her away. An arm wrapped around her and led her, finally, down the steps and into the echoing meeting hall where she had first entered here.

It wasn’t until she was inside, breathing air that didn’t hurt her lungs, that she realised it was Aramis who had hold of her.

“When did you get here?” she whispered.

“Just arrived,” said Aramis, squeezing her close. “Damn it, Dana, you’d been out there for hours. Didn’t the nuns try to move you?”

“They may have said some things. Didn’t mean much at the time.”

She remembered the old one, Sister Ursa, telling her that Conrad was dead, and things got rather hazy after that.

Something clicked inside Dana as she noticed Porthos and Athos, still wearing their thick winter gear, talking to several concerned looking nuns. Someone was missing.

“Where’s Ro?” she asked aloud.

“Your guess is as good as ours,” Aramis said. “She was long gone when we arrived.”

Dana huffed at that. Her lungs were so cold from the inside out that it hurt to breathe. “She went after him,” she said.

“Entirely possible.”

Across the room, Athos met Dana’s gaze and then looked away. It was Porthos who came over and held Dana’s hand while she broke the news to her. “There’s surveillance footage,” she said. “Turns out these nuns are about as committed to security as they are to fleur-de-lis.”

“Lot of good it did Conrad,” Dana said bitterly. “They just let Milord waltz right in here because he looked like one of them.”

Porthos looked sick. “Athos is checking the footage personally now,” she said. “But it looks very much like Special Agent Cho met up with Milord between your arrival and ours. Neither of them came back.”

Oh. So that was a thing that had happened.

Dana didn’t cry. Not even when Athos showed her the footage that proved that ten minutes after Conrad Su officially died, Rosnay Cho was halfway down the fucking mountain, in conversation with a figure that the other nuns identified as Sister Snow, a recent addition to their little community.

A murderer.

The two of them left together after what looked like an extremely civil seven minute conversation which did not involve anyone arresting anyone else. They did not return to the Convent of the Carmellines.

Dana did not cry, but she did get angry. So angry that her friends had to hold her down, pin her to the wall so she didn’t rampage through the convent that had failed so badly to be a safe house.

At one point, she came back to herself and realised that she was standing in that damned snowy courtyard again, and Athos had been patiently letting her hit him for… a while.

“Sorry,” she muttered and wiped her mouth. Her knuckles ached with bruises and cold.

Athos gave her a thin smile. “Could be worse. You could be grieving on a mountain top, so fucked up that you think joining the Musketeers is a good idea. Oh, wait.”

Dana blinked at that, and looked around her. “Is this the mountain?”

“No,” he said calmly. “This isn’t the mountain, Dana. That particular mountain is a long way from here.”

“What’s it called? I want to see it.”

“It’s called Athos,” he said, and watched her dissolve into a fit of laughter. “Shut up.”

“You named yourself after a mountain!”

“It was a significant mountain.”

But the laughter had been a bad idea, because Dana couldn’t stop now and oh, maybe she was crying after all.

A look of panic crossed Athos’s face, and he called for the others. “I only signed up for anger and denial,” he said firmly, and propelled Dana into the arms of Porthos and Aramis.

They bundled her away from the courtyard, into a small and comforting room where the air was not so cold it hurt the lungs. Dana buried her face in the chilled coat of Porthos and sobbed loudly, messily, while Aramis stroked her close-shorn scalp.

Milord was gone. He had done exactly what he came here to do, made the most predictable move, and they hadn’t been able to stop him. He had got away. Ro, damn her, was helping him, of course she was. The Cardinal had always worked from a different agenda to the rest of them, and Ro had never made a secret of the fact that she served the Cardinal.

It hurt more than it should have.

A horrible noise was coming out of her now, it was embarrassing, but she couldn’t stop it. Tight arms pinned her down, kept her safe, her friends taking turns to hug her as she cried.

Dana felt the sharp stubble of a close-cut beard against her cheek and realised it was Athos who was holding her now. She could hear Aramis and Porthos talking in low voices, across the other side of the room.

“I don’t know what to do,” Dana gasped.

“Love is what kills us,” said Athos, his voice rough. “Nothing else can destroy the human race half so fast. I suspect he was – programmed to hurt us in the worst possible ways. It’s the only explanation.”

Dana head-butted him lightly, because she had no more words.

“Okay,” said Porthos in a businesslike voice, coming back to them. “Dana, you ready to get back in the game?”

“Is it revenge time yet?” Dana asked in a small voice. She was tired of having all these feelings, and she really wanted to kill something.

“Here’s the thing,” said Aramis, bright-eyed and excited. “They left in the hire skimmer, the same one you and Cho arrived here in, Dana.”

Dana frowned at her. “So?”

“So, we can track it.” Aramis waved a clamshell at her. “Planchet is on it already. We know which way they’re going.”

“That’s good,” said Athos impatiently. “Let’s go.”

Porthos and Aramis both gave him a look. Dana knew that look. It was the one they usually reserved for when Athos couldn’t actually see their faces.

“What aren’t you telling us?” she said in a low voice.

“From their current route,” said Aramis awkwardly. “Planchet suspects they are heading for the province of La Fere.”

Athos nodded as if this was no more or less than he had expected. “If anyone attempts to talk to me about this,” he said stiffly. “I’m going to throw them out of the skimmer. Speaking of which, why aren’t we in the skimmer already?”

Porthos gave him a hearty clap on the shoulder. “That’s the spirit.”

“I will end you,” he growled, but as they made their hasty farewells to the shellshocked star nuns and headed back out to where they had docked the skimmer some way back down the snowy steps, he stayed protectively close to Dana all the way.

She wasn’t sure whether to hit him or hug him, but she settled for saying nothing at all. It worked for both of them.

Athos made some calls from the skimmer. He spoke quietly in his New Aristocrat voice, he gave co-ordinates and sent texts, and his face was so thunderous that no one – not Dana, Aramis nor Porthos – could quite bear to ask him exactly what he was doing.

“We’re going to have some company in La Fere,” was all he said.

“I’ve thought of something,” said Porthos.

The others looked at her, except Aramis who had her attention on flying the skimmer.

“Well?” Dana said expectantly.

“There’s no way Agent Cho didn’t know we’d be able to track the skimmer. Maybe they’re not on the same side after all.”

Dana stared at her shoes, and thought about throwing up.

The province of La Fere was a thousand square kilometres of grey rock, picturesque lavender hills and pale green grazing land. Hardly anyone lived here; there was one medium-sized town near the Bethune border, a handful of rural villages and a scattering of wide, solitary farms.

As far as Athos was aware – and he would admit if asked that he had done very little to ensure this was so – the whole place got along swimmingly without any occupants playing lord of the manor from the d’Auteville estate.

Then again, Olivier Armand d’Auteville was thought to be dead. For all he knew, the estate was now crawling with distant cousins who had turned the place into a strip club/casino.

The thought of a giant disco ball rotating from the ceiling of his Maman’s picture-perfect salonniere, or the family silver being sold off to pay for a job lot of jumbo-sized roulette wheels, would be enough to make him smile, on any other day.

Here he remained, chief phantom in his very own ghost story, about to face the worst demons of his past. Sober.

“I don’t understand why Milord would go home of all places,” said Porthos – and Athos had to work very hard to conceal a twitch at the word ‘home’ in that context – “Surely he knows that is the most obvious place for us to look for him.”

“Sometimes the guilty seek penance,” said Aramis, with her ‘religious contemplation’ face on. “The worst criminals often want to get caught.”

“He’s doing it to make me follow him,” ground out Athos. Wasn’t it obvious to the rest of them? “To force me to go home. All he has left is revenge.”

“That’s why he killed Conrad,” said D’Artagnan in a small voice that reminded Athos all over again how damned young she was. “Revenge against me.”

“Of course,” Athos said, only to be faced with blazing expressions of both Aramis and Porthos, in matching performances of ‘shut up Athos, you just said something tactless.’ “I mean – who can truly know the mind of a madman?”

“Good save,” D’Artagnan said dryly. She had not missed the looks.

The tracker led them directly to Foilles, the village nearest the Auteville estate. Home. Aramis brought them down practically on top of the hire skimmer that was identical to their own, on the outskirts of town.

“That’s my ship!” said D’Artagnan, her head coming up as she recognised the bright yellow eyesore that was the Buttercup, docked on the grass alongside Athos’ own Pistachio.

“I got in touch with the engies,” Athos admitted.

“Good idea,” noted Porthos.

Athos shrugged uncomfortably, aware that he had been taking the lead on this, something he generally preferred not to do, because responsibility was a terrible addiction that destroyed lives. On the other hand, it was his husband who had just murdered D’Artagnan’s boyfriend, therefore he was going to accept a certain amount of responsibility until the bastard was dead. He could quit leadership any time he liked. “If there’s a chance we can get this sewn up this afternoon, I don’t want to waste any time getting us off the fucking planet,” he grumbled.

Aramis leaned over and prodded him in the stomach, to let him know that she saw through him, always.

Like Athos needed a bruised abdomen to know that.

The four Musketeers spilled out of the cramped skimmer and onto the grass. Almost immediately, Pigtails and Bonnie emerged from the Hoyden and ran towards them with a reluctant Bazin trailing behind.

“No sign of Milord,” said Pigtails, the words bursting out of her with juvenile excitement. “But we found Agent Cho easily enough.”

“Is it too much to hope she’s in the pub?” Athos said wistfully. The home-brewed beers of the Foilles watering hole was one of only three things he missed about his home.

Pigtails blinked at him. “How did you know?”

Grimaud was waiting for them outside the Fleur and Anchor, swaddled in a thicker star scarf than she usually wore, and scowling at the world. A tension that Athos had not even realised he was carrying unwound at the sight of her. He always felt better when he knew she was near, and safe.

“In there?” he asked without greeting.

Grimaud nodded, peered at him for a moment as if checking for injuries, then went back to pretending he didn’t exist.

“Musketeers inside, engies out here in case there’s trouble,” Athos commanded.

The engies grumbled about this distribution of labour.

“For when there is inevitably trouble,” Athos clarified. “If you spot our target – or anyone suspicious – do not engage them on your own.”

The engies all took on oddly similar expressions at this piece of advice, even Bazin which was – how did that level of sarcasm even work on an android face?

“It’s sweet that you think you’re in charge,” Bonnie informed him.

Aramis staved off any possibility of an Athos-and-engies smackdown by steering him inside the pub. Porthos and D’Artagnan followed close behind.

Nostalgia swept over Athos like a heavy curtain full of knives. The smell of this place was exactly the same – beer and coffee and browning pastry, soaked into the deep grey stone of the walls and the slate of the floor.

He knew the barman, though he didn’t remember his name – an old man with a flat expression who – of course – knew who he was the second he stepped in the door.

This was a mistake. But no going back now.

After a brief sweep of the room with no sign of Agent Cho, Athos stepped up to the bar. “Black hair, scar?” he said.

The barman made a grunting noise and pointed. “Courtyard.”

“Cheers.” The lack of questions made Athos feel oddly lightheaded. It had always been like that in here, he remembered. Everyone knew who he was: the young Comte from the big house who lost his parents too young and married an outsider straight out of university, then later killed his husband on the village green for being an alien spy. No one had ever said an unnecessary word about any of it, when he was in here and needed a drink.

“Do you think everyone talks like that around here?” he heard Porthos hiss to Aramis. “A whole town full of Athoses!”

They crowded into the doorway that opened on to the walled courtyard: Athos at the front with D’Artagnan beside him, the other two squishing into them from behind.

“Oh no,” D’Artagnan breathed.

Special Agent Rosnay Cho paced back and forth in fury, arguing with empty air. She flung her arms, hissed between her teeth, and got up in the face of her invisible opponent. An arc-ray twirled between her fingers.

There wasn’t room to draw a sword, so Athos went for his stunner, knowing Porthos and Aramis were blocked from making the shot. He didn’t bank on D’Artagnan, who slipped out from his side and marched right up to the raving agent.

“You idiot,” D’Artagnan accused. “You drank something he gave you?”

“Of course I didn’t,” Cho said, whirling on D’Artagnan. Not pointing the arc-ray at her, as such, but not holding it safe by her side, either. “What the hell do you think I am?”

“How about a traitor?”

Cho scoffed, then turned to address empty air again. “Shut up you. Keep out of it.”

“You’ve got Winter in your head,” D’Artagnan said angrily. “Don’t you?”

“He slapped a patch on my wrist while I was flying the skimmer,” Cho admitted sullenly. “What the hell do you mean, traitor? You answer to me on this fucking mission, not the other way around.”

“We were supposed to be working together!” Dana howled. “Until you ran off hand in hand with the target.”

“I would have brought you along for the ride, buttercup, but you were too busy being catatonic over the death of your boyfriend and somehow I don’t think your presence would have made Milord less suspicious of my motives!”

“Shut up, both of you!” Aramis ordered, stepping between D’Artagnan and Cho. “This is all very sweet, getting your feelings out in the open, and usually I’d be all for it, but I’d like to ask a question. Can he -” And she indicated the empty space to which Rosnay Cho had directed her non-D’Artagnan-related anger, “Hear what we’re saying?”

“How am I supposed to know how this works?” Cho demanded.

“I think he can listen in,” D’Artagnan said sourly. “If it’s like the others. Why do it otherwise?”

“Then I suggest we get on with arresting the target without a digital spy in our midst,” said Aramis.

Agent Cho looked murderous. “You can’t leave me out of this. This is my mission.”

“I think we’re past that, aren’t we?” Aramis countered.

Athos lost what little patience he had left. He lifted his arm and shot Agent Cho through the head with the pearl-white beacon of his stunner. She crumpled and D’Artagnan caught her awkwardly, lowering her to the ground.

“That’s one way to win a conversation,” said Porthos.

“She didn’t tell us which way he went!” D’Artagnan protested, looking down at the unconscious Cho like she could will her back awake.

“I know which way he went,” Athos said sharply. “Come on. We’ve got one more stop to make first.”

He headed back through the pub, with three Musketeers following him. He heard Aramis stop to instruct the engies about taking Cho back to the ships, and did not slow his pace to give her a chance to catch up. That was why she had those long legs, after all.

Finally, he stopped at the edge of the village, and knocked sharply at the bright red door of a whitewashed building. A familiar figure emerged: cloaked all in red, her face masked and her hands covered.

“Mother,” said Athos, and kissed the gloved hand that extended to him. It felt like ice beneath the light silk. “Time to go.”

The red cloaked figure nodded once and set out before him, leading the way out of the village and up the well-trod path to the higher pastures and the over-sized house that had been built to overlook the entire provinced.

“Come on,” he said shortly to his friends.

They glanced awkwardly at each other before hurrying after him. “Athos, is that actually your mother?” Porthos asked.

“No,” he said honestly, surprised she had thought so.

“Then -”

“That is my priest,” he explained, following the red mother up the path towards his worst nightmare.

His three best friends in the world followed him without further comment.

You have been reading Musketeer Space, by Tansy Rayner Roberts. Tune in next week for another chapter! Please comment, share and link. Musketeer Space is free to read, but if you’d like to support the project for as little as $1 per month, please visit my Patreon page. Pledges can earn rewards such as ebooks, extra content, dedications and the naming of spaceships. Milestones already unlocked include the Musketeer Media Monday posts, the Robotech Rewatch posts, and “Seven Days of Joyeux,” a special Christmas prequel novella which was released in December 2014.

Robotech Rewatch 55: All Roads Lead to Jonathan Wolff

Death once had a near-Jonathan Wolff experience.

Stand by for more Robotech Rewatch.

Episode 68: Eulogy



The narrator, our only source of continuity in the midst of narrative chaos, gives us a sneak peek into the Invid’s stronghold, Reflex Point, which is the same place that Scott Barnard has been so keen on taking his crew to. You know, eventually.

Speaking of Scott, he and the dirt bike roadies arrive in a military town where everyone is super happy because the Invid never come here. Seems… suspicious, but okay. Nice to know someone’s having a good time in the post-apocalyptic wasteland.

They decide to grab a drink, and Annie reminds us all of how creepy and inappropriate she is by hitting on the bartender. Let us not forget: she’s a kid. A kid with the sex drive of a cougar in a late night sitcom. Oh Annie, you distress me.

Everyone in the bar gets super excited because Colonel Jonathan Wolff is back.

Not only is he basically a green-haired Errol Flynn-moustached rocking shocking goddamned superhero but apparently he was active in Admiral Hunter’s fleet, then was sent home with his ‘Wolff pack’ to save the Earth.

Jonathan Wolff is so tough, he dulls chainsaws… when he shaves.

When Jonathan Wolff crosses the road, cars look both ways.

Jonathan Wolff likes his meat so rare he only eats unicorns.

You get the idea.

As a former junior member of the Wolff Pack back in the day, Scott happily adds his admiration to everyone else’s, but he’s slightly concerned at the cult that’s apparently grown up around Wolff to the point that no one is remotely worried about the Invid.

Scott suggests that they team up together to infiltrate Reflex Point, since that’s obviously the main goal of everyone on this planet. Wolffe is highly patronising but still recruits Scott to join his own team with its own much smaller-scale mission of regularly attacking the local protoculture farms. Scott gives way to his inner fanboy! Finally some serious business!

Rand wakes up to find a note pinned to Scott’s sleeping bag, promising to be back by evening. It is kind of adorable that Scott went all the way back to their camp to do this – more than ever, I feel for these kids living in a 21st century imaginary future that doesn’t involve texting. Why couldn’t you predict texting, 1980′s?

The raid against one of the Invid’s protoculture farms is a total bust, thanks to an unexpected forcefield, and Wolff heads home without any of his men as if, basically, that’s what he expected. He doesn’t even check they’re all dead, just gives up and gets drunk.

Rand and Rook, completely furious, turn up to demand Wolff tells them what happened to Scott. He shrugs, but agrees to escort Rand back to look for him, given that he has a mecha suit. Rook is super pissed off at being left out of it, yet again. Men are stupid.

Lancer meanwhile has made the most of the party spirit of the locals by performing as Yellow Dancer. As you do. Lunk and Annie have a great time watching the show. This has nothing to do with the plot, but it’s quite nice they get to have fun and I guess someone has to make sure Annie doesn’t get arrested for sexually harassing the men in uniform. (this is a legit concern)

Rand and Wolff get into Invid trouble and Rand is rescued by Rook who sweeps in on her bike white knight style. I do love Rook. When Rand sneaks back to check if Wolff also needs to be rescued (because dudes don’t leave dudes behind to die) he finds him trading protoculture with the Invid.

No wonder everyone feels so safe in his town! Wolff, like almost everyone else who doesn’t have a dirt bike, is a filthy collaborator.

Rand literally gets on his high horse (well, a boulder) and hurls sarcasm at Wolff the War Hero. Wolff tries to justify that he is protecting the town, but Rand throws all the dead soldiers back in his face, devastated that their hero is a fraud.

Wolff admits it – he’s sick of all the bloodshed and war and has been dealing with it by systematically getting his army killed in small groups.

Rook meanwhile has been doing all the genuine hero work – she rescues Scott and brings him back. Rand catches him up on Wolff being a dirty scumsucking traitor and Scott punches him for “lying”. Apparently he didn’t notice being this week’s sacrificial chicken. They are then attacked by Invid again, because it’s Tuesday.

Watching the feisty young ones battle with the aliens, Wolff becomes ashamed of his actions and finds his inner hero, just in time to sacrifice himself nobly.

He dies slowly in Scott’s arms, while reciting all the people who died on his watch, and how badly he failed them all. Scott, taking completely the wrong message from all this, hails Wolff as a genuine hero. No, Scott. Bad Scott.

As Scott, Rook and Rand stand about sombrely in contemplation of what has happened, Annie and the others who have obviously been having an awesome time in a completely different episode we didn’t get to watch, turn up to ‘rescue’ them. Hooray for cheerful endings to mildly depressing plotlines!

NEXT WEEK: Dinosaurs. I’m not even kidding.

This weekly rewatch of classic animated space opera Robotech is brought to you as bonus content for the Musketeer Space project.

Thanks to everyone who has linked, commented, or sponsored me.

You can support Musketeer Space at Patreon.

Issue #1 – Battleworld Special: Lady Kate, Ms America & Inferno

Marvel, you’re making me cry.

I mean sure, throw your whole mess of universes in a blender. Give your writers the freedom to write some batshit crazy tales that aren’t defined by previous continuity. I’m all for that. I was all for that when DC did it a little while ago, because for all the crazy I was promised a chance to hang out with some of my favourites and I love a bit of universe-bending creativity.

But the but.

I have no idea WTF is going on.

The premise is that all the Marvel universes have collided, and different universe versions of our characters are all on a fake planet called Battleworld, and all the awesome interesting titles suddenly exploding out of Marvel are based on various “baronies” in which our characters are playing out odd scenarios, in odd combinations.

But the but.

I get that, I do, but I don’t know what to READ. There are so many different titles, and Convergence taught me that I’m going to hate the main storyline & resent it for being super expensive and not giving me anything I want so I didn’t even try to pick up Secret Wars or Battleworld or Beyond (this is the thing, there isn’t just one main event to avoid, there seem to be about twelve) and stuck instead to the tempting individual issues, not knowing if they’re like permanent series or mini-series like Convergence gave us, or…

I JUST DON’T KNOW WHAT’S GOING ON.

It doesn’t help that the comics all have banners to tell you which series they’re part of and some of them say Secret Wars and some say Battleworld and some say both and there doesn’t seem to be any actual logic behind which is which.

Here is what I’ve read so far:

Title: A-Force

Writer: Marguerite Bennett & G.Willow Wilson

Artist: Jorge Molina

The Buzz: All female Avengers! You had me at She-Hulk. Marvel have been buzzing about Secret Wars all year – we know this is a massive comics event and A-Force has been one of the highest buzzed of the new titles, because an all female Avengers comic has been a long time coming, and G. Willow Wilson is definitely one of comics’ It Writers thanks to her kickass run on Ms Marvel.

All You Need To Know: Battleworld is a ridiculous patchwork planet on which all the Marvel superheroes from all the universes have been gathered in various baronies to fight and stuff. It’s all Doctor Doom’s fault, whatever.

Story: This barony is an island called Arcadia, peopled only with female Avengers. She-Hulk is their Baroness which is pretty great.

When a giant shark (yes really) infests their waters during a routine patrol, Captain Marvel, Dazzler and Ms America kick shark butt. Unfortunately, America impulsively throws the monster so far that it breaks through the shield marking out their zone, and breaking one of the most essential rules of their society.

Sam Wilson, one of the Thors (what now?) arrives to arrest America and when their appeal fails, America is taken who-knows-where to the grief and distress of her foster mother Loki (I KNOW, RIGHT?) and sister-or-possibly-girlfriend Nico Minoru (Sister Grimm).

I have no idea what the hell is going on in this comic, but I love it. Ovaries-to-the-wall action and emotion, and a fascinating Elseworlds-style mash up. I want to know more about this version of reality because it’s pretty clear that these are not the characters I know – or at least, their situation is very different. Kudos for Loki being America’s mum, that’s all kinds of messed up. Of course, I don’t know how much I like this comic until I know whether or not America has been disintegrated or not.

Art: For the most part I like the style used by Molina, especially his portrayal of She-Hulk, Captain Marvel and Nico, who are gorgeously and colourfully rendered in classic, iconic style. There is no unnecessary cheesecake, and most of the positioning of the women shows off their strength and their differences rather than making them weak. She-Hulk in particular is strong, muscular and defiant.

However, and this is a huge deal to me, his interpretation of America is so wrong as to defy belief. I will admit that I have massive bias when it comes to America Chavez, and I would probably struggle to accept any artist taking her on who isn’t Jamie McKelvie (though frankly a whole bunch of fan artists on Tumblr manage just fine) but I am used to her as a character of unbelievable strength and mighty page presence. She should be all shoulders and thighs and resting bitch face – and I saw very little of that here, where she is drawn more as a small-framed, weepy teen a lot of the time. Yes, her plot line is emotional, but it’s not the writing that’s letting her down here – the scene in which she throws the shark is America Chavez all the way – it’s the artistic interpretation. Given how excited I was to see America in another ongoing series after the end of Young Avengers, this was a letdown but it’s based on a strong personal beef – your mileage may vary.

But What Did I Miss?: This is a pocket universe, so you shouldn’t need to know anything coming in. Also as previously established I have no idea WTF is going on with this Battleworld thing anyway. A lot of the joy of this story comes from recognising a bunch of female superhero characters, all mashed into the same comic. Still as long as you’re okay with the idea that Loki is sometimes female (hey, Loki is sometimes female!) there isn’t much prep required. I hope.

Would Read Issue 2?: I’ll keep reading until I know where they sent Ms America at the very least.

Read it if you Like: She-Hulk, Ms Marvel, Captain Marvel, X-Men (specifically the current all female X-Men title, not just X-Men generally)

Title: Secret Wars Journal #1

Writer: Michael Rosenberg/Prudence Shen

Artist: Ramon F Bachs/Luca Pizzaria

The Buzz: No buzz about this one particularly; I bought it because of the amazing medieval Kate Bishop picture on the front cover. When I went hunting for it though I found this interview with the editor talking about future bizarre stories to come involving Misty Knight and Millie the Model which… damn that does sound interesting.

All You Need To Know: Battleworld makes me cry. This is as it turns out an anthology series exploring odd corners of Battleworld that they couldn’t make room for anywhere else. In this case, a Robin Hoodish take on Young Avengers (sort of) and a X-Men thing. If you don’t care about Young Avengers or X-Men you will get nothing out of this.

Story: Medieval (or rather, 1602) Kate Bishop, it turns out is a Robin Hood sort of figure – even better, she has Billy and Teddy (Wiccan and Hulkling) along for the ride as her Merry Men and there’s a discreet hint that she has Clint Barton in her backstory. It has all the banter and action I require of a Young Avengers story but is NOT a proper comic short, more a teaser for some other book. The X-Men half was super boring.

Art: I really like the gorgeous weird Kevin Wada cover of Kate – took me longer to get used to the quirky art in her actual story especially the interpretations of Billy and Teddy (though I liked Bachs Kate a lot), but I would definitely read more of this if it existed. I don’t think it does. Boo. The art in the second half was very brown.

But What Did I Miss?: Apparently THE REST OF THE STORY. I would read a whole trade and more full of 1602 Lady Kate with Billy & Teddy as her wise-cracking accomplices, but this book is not gonna give it to me. Apparently the whole thing is a set up for Siege #1 in which Kieron Gillen (HELLO) puts a bunch of his favourite characters (including Abigail Brand and Ms America HELLO NOW) through a bunch of trauma and suffering, and I have been promised more Lady Kate there. So that’s where I’m going. *Follows the threads through Battleworld like a desperate, lost Theseus in the labyrinth*

Would Read Issue 2?: The whole Misty Knight and Millie the Model thing intrigues me mightily but I don’t have a lot of trust right now that I’ll get complete stories instead of… teasers, which is fine for a free comic book preview but not fine for a book I paid $4 to read. I am however going to read Siege #1 because I’m easy for Kate Bishop and America Chavez.

Read it if you Like: being confused

weirdly there are two versions of this cover online, one with half the costume missing – if that version had been displayed on Comixology I would not have thought it was Black Widow!

Title: Inferno #1

Writer: Dennis Hopeless

Artist: Javier Garron & Chris Sottomayor

The Buzz: You know what, I just bought it because I thought it had Black Widow on the cover.

All You Need To Know: That’s not Black Widow on the cover. I’m not gonna tell you who it is because I think that’s actually a cool surprise (it’s not Jean Grey either), but this turns out to be an X-Men book. I wouldn’t have picked it up if I’d known that, not because I don’t like X-Men but because I’m already so burned by X-Men confusing me that I don’t like to read them until Rachel and Miles have explained things to me.

Story: Basically this particular corner of Battleworld is a demon-infested hell-barony version of Manhattan. Colossus’ sister Illyana (Magik) has been taken by the demons, and he has made a deal with Cyclops that he will serve and protect the city on its X-police-force all year round on condition that once a year, on the anniversary, he will be allowed to take a rescue team and have a go at saving his sister. Once it’s revealed that Illyana has now become a worse demon than any of the others, Cyclops kind of thinks the deal should end, and Colossus disagrees. Cue lots of fighting, some great romantic banter with Domino, and a whole lot of Nightcrawler BAMF goodness in all senses of the word BAMF. I really like typing BAMF.

Art: Nice clear cut superhero artwork with ladies who don’t have their boobs up to their ears and good action work – I liked it a lot.

But What Did I Miss?: This is a good issue 1, giving us everything we need to know for this particular story. However if you aren’t that invested in Colossus and Illyana already (and I didn’t even realise I was, blame Rachel and Miles X-Plain the X-Men) I don’t recommend this as an introduction to X-goodness.

Would Read Issue 2?: Quite tempted.

Read it if you Like: X-Men already.

Musketeer Space Part 57: A Drop of Water

Book Achieved! As of this week, I officially reached the end of Musketeer Space. You, dear readers, still have a month or so to go. Five more chapters, to be exact.

I know, I’m sad it’s finishing too. On the bright side, those of you who have been waiting for it to be complete so you can read it in one go don’t have much longer to wait!

If you want to be able to read Musketeer Space in complete assembled ebook form, you will need to be a Patreon supporter before the project winds up at the end of July. Otherwise I will be keeping the individual chapters up on my blog for the forseeable future, unless my agent or an interested publisher suggests otherwise.

Start reading Musketeer Space from Part 1

Missed the last installment? Track back to Part 56

Read a festive Musketeer Space prequel, “Seven Days of Joyeux.”

Main Page & Table of Contents

PREVIOUSLY ON MUSKETEER SPACE:

Milord hates Athos because of that whole tried to execute him back when they were married thing; he hates Dana D’Artagnan because she has thwarted him at every turn and told the world his secret identity; he doesn’t especially hate Conrad Su, but he’ll take his revenge where he can. They’re all on Valour, the prettiest and worst planet in the Solar System.

NOW READ ON!

Chapter 57: A Drop of Water

Bodies were strange. Human bodies stranger than most; though it was so long since Milord had allowed himself to be truly Sun-kissed, to burn bright in his natural state.

To be a female was a new journey, and one he had been hesitant about. Taking Felton’s shape had meant more than copying her face, her shoulder-width, her brisk and military manner. It meant shaping breasts and cunt that would then be hidden beneath layers of uniform; it meant a different way of walking, a different tilt of the hips and length of spine.

Being Felton and being female were equally strange states after spending nearly a decade as some version of a beautiful young man.

But once it was done: once Georgiana Villiers the Duchess of Buckingham was lying dead on her own floor, once “Marshal Felton” had bugged the communication lines and taken out several members of the security team and found a safe house at a good distance from the scene of the crime in order to monitor and consider her next move…

Once all that was done, Milord had to choose a new face and body. Someone that no one would recognise.

He had failed to kill Conrad Su at the house, but the message he intercepted less than an hour after the assassination of Buck provided the location where he was heading. The Convent of Carmelline. That in itself told him that the next body he made for himself would have to be female.

Only when he had finished the shaping and smoothing of the new identity did Milord realise how much he had borrowed from Dana D’Artagnan – he was now a tall, softer version of her with the same skin tone and very similar facial features. Not close enough to raise suspicion, but perhaps Su would feel a connection or attraction to the mysterious stranger.

Milord prodded at the new body, noting where he needed muscle tone or soft tissue, refining the design. When it was done, he illustrated the arms with a tangled pattern similar to those he had seen scrawled across the tail fins of sabre-class darts.

These humans. A few crosses and star fields carved into an object, and they deemed it sacred. How ridiculous that the same might be true for people.

Tattooed and perfect, wrapped in the body and the robes of a space nun, Milord set out to locate the secret stash of credit studs he had set aside for emergencies when he had been Vaniel De Winter. No need to steal a skimmer when he could purchase one without suspicion.

Revenge was a weakness. He knew that. And yet, he wanted this particular revenge so badly, he could taste it in his newly-formed mouth. The job was not complete until Conrad Su was as dead as the Duchess of Buckingham. What else did he have to live for now, but to thwart his enemies?

Conrad Su would never see Sister Snow coming.

“This is ridiculous,” Dana D’Artagnan raged. “We have to get there now. Can’t we take one of the darts?”

“Yes, that’s the thing about spaceships, they are exactly the thing for mountaineering,” drawled Bee. “I mean, if you’re willing to risk causing an avalanche in the region, be my guest, but otherwise I suggest you listen to local advice.”

“Skimmer’s the only way to cover the area safely,” said Athos, who was already rugged up and ready to go. He had apparently found another three layers of woollen clothing somewhere in the tower. Dana didn’t even remember him leaving to get changed. “I’ve called ahead to Brabazon, the nearest vaguely civilised city to the Drift Mountains, and ordered two skimmers to be picked up there. We can dock the darts at Portside and travel on from there.”

“Hang on,” said Aramis, frowning. “There’s a good distance between Portside and Brabazon. Is there a bullet train between them?”

Bee laughed suddenly, and then sobered. “Oh, you’re serious. The bullet train doesn’t go that far north, dears. No one does, by choice.”

Athos exchanged a glance with Ro, and if ever Dana had been wary of those two teaming up, now she had all senses on high alert. “What aren’t you telling us?” she demanded.

“It’s a dirtsider thing,” said Ro with a smirk. “Don’t worry, it won’t kill you.”

“What’s your story?” Conrad asked the newcomer, for something to say. The nuns were all clustered around the comms listening to a fleur-de-lis game, and it made him want to punch everyone, so he was out on the stone wall, looking at the bright white horizon and letting his breath turn to steam.

Sister Snow spent a lot of time up here, he had noticed. She was polite enough to the nuns, but her preference was for silence and stillness away from their friendly buzz. It was as if the thoughts in her head were so loud, she had no energy for anything else.

“Thank you,” said Sister Snow. She was brighter of eye and calmer than when she had first arrived in the hall. She was dressed in robes lent to her by the nuns of the Convent of the Carmellites – thick white wool, trimmed in bands of striking red that reflected the dark tattoos still visible at her wrists and throat. Her wounds had mostly been healed via medipatch with only a few, spidery scars remaining that would disappear after another treatment or two. “Everyone has been so kind.”

“They do their best with what they have,” said Conrad, who was in no mood for sports-obsessed space nuns right now, but wasn’t graceless enough to say so. “This is a good place to gather yourself, before the next thing comes along.”

She turned a smile on him that was surprisingly cheerful, white teeth gleaming. “What’s the next thing for you, Conrad Su? Where are you going from here, when you have gathered yourself?”

“I haven’t decided,” he said, which was all kinds of lie, but he wasn’t going to tell a nun that he was running straight back to Paris as soon as it was safe, into the arms of a brave and funny Musketeer instead of the wife he had signed a contract with, years ago.

He had never wanted anything so much as he wanted Dana D’Artagnan, except perhaps 24 hours of not having to worry about anything. Minor details like his job and his marriage could wait a little longer to be sorted out.

But oh, he wanted his job back, too. His life. He wanted to be back at Alek’s side, designing new outfits to conceal the growing pod babies that the wretched Prince had slung inside his shirt, and keeping him out of further trouble.

Conrad also wanted to stop feeling bad about Buck, who had been good to him, but whose death made protecting Alek a hell of a lot easier. Wow, yeah, there was the guilt stab, right in the stomach and completely on schedule.

He wanted Lunar Palais and fleur-de-lis and Dana and a chance to breathe air that wasn’t made by goddamn trees.

So many things that he wanted, but he would settle for one right now.

“I’m ready to go home,” he told Sister Snow, because what did she care about the details, anyway? “It’s not safe yet, though. My girl will let me know when the coast is clear.”

“Oh,” said Sister Snow, with an odd sort of twist to her mouth. It felt familiar, as if he had met her before, though Conrad could not place her, for the life of him. “You have a girl?”

“That is a trick question,” he said, pointing a finger at her, half-accusing and half-laughing. “You want to get me to spill my story.”

She gave him a merry expression. “What else do we have to do around here?”

“That’s a sweet thought, but my story is long and complex and I’m pretty sure I can’t tell it sober.”

Sister Snow arched an eyebrow at him. “Luckily for you, the sisters left a flask of wine in my room.”

“I do love nuns,” Conrad said cheerfully. “No one gives nuns nearly enough credit for making the solar system a better place. There should be a nun appreciation day.”

“On behalf of nuns everywhere,” Sister Snow said dryly. “I salute you.”

“Horses,” moaned Porthos. “It had to be horses.”

“It’s horses or it’s mecha,” insisted Athos, and you had to know him very well to spot the amusement he was hiding behind his flat expression. “Only way to cover the distance to Brabazon.”

“Horses,” Aramis said quickly. “Seriously. I know we made fun of you, Dana, when you were training for Essart’s squad, but I’m pretty sure Porthos would destroy the world if she ever tapped into a mecha suit.”

“Mecha for me,” said Dana. “Oh God, mecha. Please.” The thought of it – of riding a live creature that rolled and breathed under her – made her feel physically sick.

“I’ll go with her,” said Rosnay Cho. “We’ll make better time than the three of you on horseback, and take one skimmer from Brabazon. The rest of you collect the other.”

The two Sabres had been left behind with the rest of the ships and the Countess of Clarick – it was clear that Ro wanted to be rid of them as much as the Musketeers did, though Dana hadn’t thought too closely about what that might mean.

Athos frowned. “I don’t like it. We shouldn’t split up.” I don’t trust that woman yet, was plain on his face.

Dana gave him an impatient look. “We can’t delay further. Milord will not hesitate to kill Conrad if he gets near him. Ro and I will go ahead.”

“Meanwhile, we get to watch Athos demonstrate his superiority with land-based mammals,” Porthos groaned. “Wonderful.”

“It’s not my fault you were born on an ocean world,” Athos said smugly.

“Just you wait until the safety of the Solar System hinges on my dolphin-training skills!”

The mecha that Ro and Dana hired from Portside were different to the suits that Dana had grown familiar with on Lunar Palais. They were obviously designed for harsh winter conditions, as they converted from the usual humanoid form to some kind of snow bike setting with large wheels, a heavy tread, and hover mode.

There was a setting labelled ‘blizzard’ which Dana hoped she never had to experiment with.

With the map programmed in, she and Ro made good time across the icy plains until the statuesque city of Brabazon came into sight. It was a ridiculously beautiful place, like something off an old-fashioned Joyeux card, with buildings that might have been constructed of gingerbread.

Dana barely even glanced at it as they shifted their bikes back to humanoid setting and staggered up the street towards the skimmer dealership. “Do you think we made good time?” she asked Ro over the comms.

“Hard to tell,” Ro buzzed back. “We don’t know how much of a lead Milord has on us.”

Enough, Dana thought darkly. Enough.

The wine wasn’t anything special – not like the vintages that Conrad had been thoroughly spoiled with during his time as the Prince Consort’s companion. It did well enough, though, to loosen his tongue as he told Sister Snow a censored but amusing version of his love affair with Dana D’Artagnan, his various kidnaps, and his most recent flight across the snowy northern wastes of Castellion to reach the most ridiculously inappropriate safe house Chevreuse (or as he renamed her for the story, ‘Sheba’) had ever provided for him.

“I’m not convinced it’s not a practical joke,” he admitted. “Was always a bit of a prankster, my mate Sheb. Space nuns with a sports fetish – can’t be a coincidence.”

“At least you’re safe here,” said Sister Snow. She had been watching him carefully since he first started drinking the wine – barely blinking, in fact.

Conrad remembered the last time someone had watched him like that, and it wasn’t a good memory.

“Huh,” he said, and set the glass down. “Are you waiting for something?”

Sister Snow’s eyes widened and she started blinking again, just like a normal human being. “I don’t know what you mean, dear.”

“It’s just – it’s kind of obvious,” he said. “That you spiked my drink. I’m assuming not some kind of poison, since we drank the same wine – though you could have taken the antidote already, hadn’t thought of that.”

Sister Snow tensed. Only slightly, but the shift of body language was enough.

“Yeah,” said Conrad with a small nod. “Thought so. Could look like anyone, they told me. Might have been less obvious if you hadn’t borrowed half of my girlfriend’s features.”

Now that he was looking for it, he could see how much of Sister Snow’s face and body type had been inspired by Dana – not the height, that was more Buck if anything, but the shape of the shoulders, the ears, the eyes, damn it. No wonder she had seemed so familiar, no wonder he had felt like he could talk to her.

Still, there was a confidence in her – his – her face, a calmness. Conrad had hit the nail on the head. Milord was waiting for something to kick off. Something that had been in the drink.

“Thing is,” Conrad went on. “I know you only kidnapped me the once, and you weren’t after any information that time, but you worked with the Cardinal’s people for years. Do none of you ever talk to each other? Special Agent Cho figured out in the first five minutes that psych drugs don’t work on me. Brain incompatibility. Luck of the draw. Doesn’t matter what kind of weirdo brain programming you made me ingest – it won’t take.”

Sister Snow’s gaze flicked to the half glass of wine that remained, and then back to Conrad’s face. She smiled, and it wasn’t the wry smile of a fellow traveller any more. It wasn’t human.

Not for nothing was Conrad a member of the only fleur-de-lis team of all time to have an unbeatable season. He leaped to his feet and hurled himself backwards as Sister Snow – Milord – made her move. Even in stupid planetary gravity, he was more than capable of a quick handspring to the window ledge, where he kicked out the glass – real glass – and watched it shatter out across the winding snow-packed staircase that wound around the outside of the convent.

Milord lunged for Conrad, who launched himself out into mid-air and landed hard with a skid on the landing below. He tore around the steps even as the freezing northern wind tore through his clothes directly to his skin.

Where to go? This was the fucking safe house, so where to go next? He wasn’t even sure where the star nuns had garaged the skimmer he had used to get here. Sister Snow herself had come via skimmer, but hers had crashed, hadn’t it? Or was that all a fake?

Even as he thought that, Conrad saw a shape in the hazy distance, cutting through the grey white of the endless winter sky. That looked like a ship. Some kind of rescue party, or more of Milord’s traitorous aliens?

Something – someone – slammed into him from behind. Conrad turned as he fell, soaring into the air for a breathless moment before he hit the steps hard, his head cracking with a fierce pain on the landing.

As his vision swam, he saw the white and red blur of a nun above me and wondered if he was doomed, or saved. “Don’t hurt the rest of them,” he slurred. “They didn’t do anything… but soup and porridge. Good nuns.”

The nun leaned over him and yes, it was doom after all. Sister Snow nudged him with her foot, looking satisfied. “For what it’s worth,” she purred. “I didn’t put psych drugs in the wine. I was waiting for the wine to run out, so you would reach for the flask of water.”

Wetness fell out of nowhere, a steady flow poured from a flask on to Conrad’s face. He screwed up his eyes and mouth, trying not to breathe at all, but it stung his skin and he spluttered it through his nose before his traitorous mouth coughed open to take a splash of water inside.

“Just a drop,” said Milord De Winter.

“Well, this is depressing,” said Ro, surveying the grim, grey buildings settled into the mountainside, layered in white snow. “Seriously. There should be more safe houses on beaches and tropical islands.”

“I’ll make a note of that in the report,” Dana sighed, her eyes darting all around as they waited on the top step of the convent.

The deep, resounding tone of the bell still vibrated against the walls, but it was a while before they heard footsteps and a tiny, elderly nun pushed open the massive doors to let them in.

“More guests,” she said, looking pleased. “I’m Sister Ursa. Welcome to the Sharing Hall. I don’t suppose you are famous fleur-de-lis players too? We’re hoping to get a team together later for an exhibition game.”

“I’m the Musketeer D’Artagnan,” said Dana as the door closed behind them. Ro immediately started stripping off her heated gloves and snow-damp outer layers, but Dana didn’t want to waste time. “This is Special Agent Cho. We need to see Conrad.” No point in wasting her time asking for his pseudonym if the nuns were Emerald Knights fans.

Before Sister Ursa could answer, a great clanging bell shook the walls.

“Sisters!” yelled another nun from the courtyard beyond the Sharing Hall. “We are under attack!”

Dana ran.

She found herself skidding and sliding across a frosted courtyard and up a stone staircase towards a nun with cinquefoil-standard biceps beneath her robes. A nun with the unconscious figure of Conrad Su draped in her mighty arms.

“Sister Volantis, what is going on?” cried Sister Ursa as more and more nuns gathered in the courtyard.

Dana’s own feet stopped moving as she stared at the figure of Conrad, unsure if he was even breathing.

“Sister Snow did this,” said Sister Volantis grimly. “Who are these strangers?”

“We’re his friends,” Dana said helplessly, even if that was a very inaccurate description in which to include Rosnay Cho. “Is he -”

“Hurt,” Volantis snapped, and pushed past everyone to sweep Conrad into the Sharing Hall, lying him flat on the enormous table. “Send for Sister Gemini! We need meditech intervention now – he has a head wound.”

Yes, there was blood smeared on the table, Dana realised, and in Conrad’s blue-tipped hair. As the nuns separated to arrange medical attention, she stepped closer and laid her fingers over his hand. It was cold, but from the snowy air, she was certain, not a lack of pulse.

“Conrad,” she whispered.

His eyes fluttered open and fixed upon her. “Here’s trouble.”

“Hey,” Dana said with a soft smile, feeling ridiculous to have been so worried. “Heard you got taken down by a nun.”

“Don’t laugh. The nuns around here are mighty and glorious.” His eyes glazed over slightly, losing focus. “It was – him. He’s a nun now. Looks a bit like you.”

“Milord,” Dana breathed. “It’s okay, we’ve got you now.”

“How long ago?” Rosnay Cho broke in. “How far could he have gone?”

Conrad frowned, and looked confused.

“Head injury, dear,” Sister Ursa reminded them gently.

“Water,” said Conrad.

Dana looked around. “Can we get him some water?”

Several nuns with medipacks and other equipment, led by a uniformed medic that the others called Sister Gemini, crashed into the Sharing Hall from an inner door.

“No,” said Conrad, his hand squeezing Dana’s finger with surprising strength. “It was in the water. Sorry about – our timing’s terrible.”

“What was -” and the words caught in her throat as she saw him shudder on the table, his hand falling from hers. “No. Help him!”

The nuns with medical training closed in and around Conrad. Dana stared wildly, wishing that Aramis was here, that any of her Musketeers were here. Last they had checked in with each other, the three of them were in the second skimmer, two hours behind Dana and Ro.

“Poison,” said one of the nuns, checking the readings on her medipatch. “It’s – damaging his blood vessels faster than the tech can repair him.”

“But it’s not,” said Dana. “He can’t -”

Conrad’s body shuddered again, and the medipatches beeped furiously.

“Heart’s stopped,” said Sister Gemini, sounding grim. “I can’t – what the hell kind of poison is this?”

Rosnay Cho breathed out. It could have been any other breath, but Dana was on high alert for anything, any sign, and she turned to the other woman in desperation. “What is it? What do you know?”

“This sounds a lot like the symptoms that Milady Delia De Winter suffered before she died,” said Ro. She moved a hand as if she was going to touch Dana in some vaguely comforting way, then did not. “As a point of interest.”

“I see,” said Dana.

The nuns continued to work on Conrad, attempting to get his heart started again. Dana turned around and walked back out of the warm convent, and into the snow.

You have been reading Musketeer Space, by Tansy Rayner Roberts. Tune in next week for another chapter! Please comment, share and link. Musketeer Space is free to read, but if you’d like to support the project for as little as $1 per month, please visit my Patreon page. Pledges can earn rewards such as ebooks, extra content, dedications and the naming of spaceships. Milestones already unlocked include the Musketeer Media Monday posts, the Robotech Rewatch posts, and “Seven Days of Joyeux,” a special Christmas prequel novella which was released in December 2014. My next funding milestone will unlock GORGEOUS COVER ART.

Robotech Rewatch 54: Lost in Translation

Keep your scanner tuned to this station. Robotech is back!

I’m going to give the show the benefit of the doubt and agree that something must have been lost in translation, because this is the weirdest and most disposable episode of Robotech I’ve ever watched.

Episode 67: Paper Hero



I’ll admit that I was kind of hoping this would be the episode where Hugh Jackman is a truck who writes romance novels and falls in love with his best friend, Claudia Karvan. That would have SO been a better Robotech episode than this one.

Apparently the dirtbike riding Robotech gang have a date with destiny. I have to say, chatty narrator, making statements like that does rather raise the expectations that this is going to be an episode in which something actually happens.

The gang’s current Invid fighting style involves most of them riding bikes furiously at the enemy, Scott shooting from above in his Veritech (AKA the Invid magnet), and Lunk driving up with Annie afterwards “just in time to celebrate.” Way to contribute to the teamwork there, Lunk and Annie.

Since last week was Rook’s tragic backstory, this one is all about Lunk. He has a book to deliver to an old man called Alfred Nader on behalf of his son, Lunk’s friend, who died horribly. While he does get a bit emotional and lip-wobbly while telling his story, let’s make two things very clear: Lunk knows and cares very little about the book he is delivering, nor the man he is delivering it to. The book is not important. Don’t get attached to the book.

The town they head for for is full of angry white people people with tiny moustaches and dodgy Mexican accents. It’s like we have wandered into an old style Western, only slightly more racist.

Lunk’s quest to give a random book to the mysterious Alfred Nader requires he and Rand to level up through several fight scenes with mobs of villagers, pitchforks and more dodgy accents. Strangely, no matter how much Lunk intimidates the locals with his headband, no one will spill the beans about who and where Nader is.

There’s a whole thing about Rand and Lunk being separated from Lancer, Rook and Annie, and finally rescuing them from more angry villagers, princess-in-the-tower style. But no one seems overly invested. And where is Scott, anyway?

Oh, there’s Scott, being attacked by Invid again! Why is this always happening to him?

The villagers claim they want to keep the Invid (and the fighting of said Invid) well away from their village, and they are not especially impressed when Rook patiently explains to them why they should be grateful that she and her friends brought the Invid directly to them, in order to fight them.

Finally the truth is revealed! Lunk gets Jose to confess that the Mexican villagers all murdered Alfred Nader because he was a filthy pacifist. They then promptly decided he was right to try to not fight the Invid and have been following the Way of Nader ever since.

I don’t think I can emphasise enough how little Lunk cares about this grisly news, or the fact that his quest has come to an end, or the book he will now never deliver. He borrows the villagers’ guns and kicks some Invid ass, then drives off into the sunset, planning vaguely to catch up with his friends who he totally lost track of at some point.

Oh and he never bothered to learn the name of the town. Which makes the fact that he found the right town in the first place quite surprising.

Lunk has hidden talents. But no depth.

This weekly rewatch of classic animated space opera Robotech is brought to you as bonus content for the Musketeer Space project.

Thanks to everyone who has linked, commented, or sponsored me.

You can support Musketeer Space at Patreon.

Musketeer Space Part 56: Two Kinds of Winter

It’s Musketeer Day again!

SF Signal have published my GOH speech from Continuum XI on Fantasy, Female Authors and the Politics of Influence. I amended it and updated it based on my ad libs during the presentation including the imaginary crowns representing the various women I was quoting on the topic.

We’ve also put up the Galactic Suburbia episode recorded live at Continuum (with a great audience!) including sketches by Kathleen Jennings of what our hands look like when we’re podcasting.

I’m soooo close to finishing Musketeer Space! This month’s Musketeer Media Monday concerns Dogtanian’s War on Moustaches (1981) and the unexpected revelations of a Robotech nature.

The end-of-project complete assembled ebook of Musketeer Space will beexclusive to Patreon backers for at least a year so if you want one, head on over the the Patreon page – you can support the project for as little as $1 per month.

Start reading Musketeer Space from Part 1

Missed the last installment? Track back to Part 55

Read a festive Musketeer Space prequel, “Seven Days of Joyeux.”

Main Page & Table of Contents

PREVIOUSLY ON MUSKETEER SPACE:

Athos hates rain, all weather, planets in general, and Valour in particular. Dana has lost track of Conrad Su, who went to ground after witnessing an assassination at his last safehouse. The Countess of Clarick has arrested her brother-in-law, Milord De Winter, to hand him over to Royal/Church custody. Rosnay Cho, as the Cardinal’s Special Agent, leads the Musketeer-Sabre mission to reclaim Milord.

NOW READ ON!

Chapter 56: Two Kinds of Winter

“Fascinating,” said Athos, looking around at the bleak grey landscape that was the wind-lashed island of Finisterra. “I did not realise there was actually a more depressing corner of this planet than the county of La Fere. But here we are. And look, there’s snow.”

Dana was pretty sure it wasn’t the snow that had him looking so wary and tense, but she knew better than to say so out loud. Athos had been quiet and remarkably sober for most of their journey, which was not as comforting as it should have been.

“This is just a mopping up job,” said Porthos. “What are you so afraid of?”

Athos gave her a chilly expression. “Everything,” he said succinctly.

Dana herself was caught up with thoughts of Conrad, and she couldn’t help resenting this meeting at the tower where Milord had been imprisoned. Aramis had given Dana the coordinates that came directly from Chevreuse. It was up to them to rescue Conrad, and take him home, and they knew exactly where he was.

But first, there was official business.

Special Agent Rosnay Cho, still in charge of this mission, took point with two Sabres (Ducasse and L’Etoile) and the four Musketeers at her back. They entered the grey slab of a tower with all the gravity of a royal delegation.

Bee De Winter, the Countess of Clarick, was waiting there for them, her expression almost as grim as the weather outside. “You know what I’m going to say,” she said without ceremony, avoiding Dana’s gaze altogether, and concentrating on their leader.

“I expect you’re going to tell us that the slippery bastard escaped,” said Ro. “There’s no need to mince words, your grace. I worked with Milord for years. I doubt you can surprise me.”

Bee gave her a chilly look. “I have done my duty to the letter, Special Agent Cho. My brother-in-law is upstairs in the tower.”

Ro raised her eyebrows. “He never left?”

“He never left.”

“Felton carried out the assassination alone, then,” Athos muttered to Ro.

“So it seems,” she said calmly. “But Milord waiting around for us to take him into custody seems awfully polite, doesn’t it?”

“Well,” said Athos in the driest of voices. “He is a gentleman.”

Dana hung back with Porthos and Aramis, watching Rosnay Cho and Bee De Winter, who were staring each other down like each was waiting for the other to flip a table and start the bar brawl.

Ro smiled, finally, pretending there was no possibility of animosity between them. “I’d like to question Milord De Winter now, before we make plans to escort him off planet. Captains-lieutenant Athos and D’Artagnan will accompany me, while the rest of my people question your security team, and survey the perimeter.”

The Sabres nodded obediently, while Porthos and Aramis managed salutes that weren’t entirely sarcastic.

“Of course,” said Bee, with a polite motion of her hand. “This way, Agent. Captains.”

Dana had not expected to be included in the questioning, but came forward quickly to fall into step behind Athos.

Bee led them up a spiralling staircase to what had to be the highest room in the tower. She swiped a card and entered several complex codes before the door slid open.

And there he was. Milord. His presence hit Dana like a punch to the solar plexus. He looked so damned pleased with himself. He stood in a pool of rare winter sunlight, like a cat sunning himself. His hair had reverted to its bright silver hue, long around his shoulders, and his shoes had disappeared somewhere. He wriggled his bare toes against the slate floor, apparently feeling no cold.

Dana risked a look at Athos, who displayed no reaction at all to the presence of his former husband.

“Hello, sweetness,” said Milord, his eyes on Ro. Her face twitched slightly, on the side that was scarred, but she stared him down with a steady, implacable expression. “Miss me?”

“Milord,” said Ro in a business-like tone.

“Oh, so stiff and formal,” he teased. “I know that the Cardinal has washed her hands of me, but you too, darling? What does a man have to do around here to inspire a little loyalty?”

Bee and Athos made almost identical scoffing sounds at that, and then glanced, slightly embarrassed, at each other.

The whole thing was horribly awkward, and Dana didn’t want to draw attention to herself at all. She concentrated on the nearby table, and the untouched tray of food that sat there. “Has he been eating?”

“Not for a few days,” said Bee, sounding snappish. “Perhaps he doesn’t need to. Alien biology and all that.”

“Perhaps I’m traumatised,” Milord suggested. “I feel a little traumatised.”

There was a tension in the air, so taut and bitter that Dana could barely stand it. She looked from one to the other – from Milord to Ro, from Athos to Bee. There was something wrong here. She felt a light buzzing in her ears, as if danger approaches, or simply…

Something important had been missed, and she had no idea what it was, but she was certain that all hell was about to break loose.

“That’s not him,” she blurted out.

“What?” Ro and Athos asked at the same time.

“It looks like him, but it’s not Milord De Winter.”

“Are you high?” Bee demanded. “Is this some sort of trick you lot have cooked up?”

Milord was gazing at Dana with a twisted smile on his pretty face. “Give the girl a gold star,” he purred. “Or some sort of cake related treat. I know how you Musketeers like your sweets.”

“Explain yourself very carefully, D’Artagnan,” said Rosnay Cho in a harsh voice. “Because if you’re going to claim some kind of comedy of errors mistaken identity…”

“No,” said Dana. “Not that. I’m sure he’s responsible for every crime we think he is, and more.” She did not take her eyes off Milord. “But this isn’t the real one. He’s not even blinking. He hasn’t eaten his rations. We’ve been in here for nearly ten minutes and he hasn’t tried to murder any of us.”

“It is a terrible temptation,” Milord agreed. “And yet I restrain myself.”

“He’s not human,” Athos grated out. “D’Artagnan, you can’t assume that he will behave in a way that makes sense to us…”

Dana sighed. She picked up a plastic-wrapped fork from the rations tray, and threw it at the prisoner. The utensil went right through his chest and hit the window on the other side.

“Oh, shit,” said the Countess of Clarick.

“It’s a holo-projection,” Athos snapped. “But from where?”

Dana gave “Milord” a dark look, daring him to say anything, then went down on her knees to examine the floor at his feet. “There’s something here,” she said. “A pocket knife, with a data stud embedded in it. I think that’s where the projection is coming from.”

Ro’s comm went off. “Boss?” said Porthos over the line, managing to say it with only a hint of irony. “We’ve got a problem.”

“I bet it’s not worse than the one we’ve got here,” Ro snarled.

“We’ve lost eyes on Aramis,” said Porthos, and it was clear from her voice that she was worried. “Comms have gone dark.”

Aramis was not the most considerate lover when it came to matters outside the bedroom, but she was at least aware of her own shortcomings. She tried her best to ensure that her partners had fun, that no one’s heart got broken (except perhaps her own, but she was robust and could take it), and that she left no one’s marriage in a worse state than it had been in when she began her seduction.

Even with the best of intentions, sometimes one slipped through the cracks.

Her affair with Jan Felton was perhaps the worst mess she had ever been involved with. It had ended ugly, in more ways than one, and Aramis had not exactly covered herself from glory in the fallout. In fact, she avoided the fallout altogether by finally acting on the long-running flirtation she and Chevreuse had kept going for years.

The guilt had set in later, much later, after Felton left Paris in disgrace and Felton’s friends made sure to let Aramis know how badly she had fucked up.

Still, she hadn’t realised it was quite this bad. Not trapped in a freezing cellar with an arc-ray drawn at her head kind of bad.

If Aramis had laid bets on which of her many ex-girlfriends would end up trying to kill her, Felton wouldn’t even be in the top three.

To be fair, if half of the babble coming out of Felton’s mouth was indicative of her current state of mind, Aramis wasn’t the only one who had screwed with her head. A certain ‘Winter’ had a lot to do with it too.

“Jan,” she said now through lips that felt cracked and sore in the chill air. “Did you kill the Duchess of Buckingham?”

Felton snapped out of her reverie, her hand tightening with greater confidence on the arc-ray. “I’m a Planetary Marshal,” she spat. “The law is everything to me. He would never ask me to -”

“Because,” Aramis went on steadily. “Either Milord – or Winter, whatever he’s calling himself. Either he made you kill her, or he took on your identity to do it. Whether you discharged the weapon or not, you are wanted for murder right now. He did that to you. Not me.”

Felton’s face took on a horrible snarl. “I’m only on this godforsaken rock because of you,” she snapped, digging the point of the arc-ray into Aramis’ temple. “I lost everything because of you. My wife. My career.”

“Not your sense of justice,” Aramis whispered. “Not the rule of law. I didn’t take those things from you, Jan, I couldn’t. He’s inside your head, making you act against everything that’s important to you. He turned you against the side of law, and he has hung you out to dry…”

Felton’s eyes gleamed silver for a moment. “Every contract is on the side of law,” she said, the words sounding stiff and robotic. “Adultery within the bounds of a marriage contract is against the law. You’re the one who made me a criminal. Milord will set me free.”

Aramis closed her eyes as the arc-ray pulsed in Felton’s hand. “You don’t want to kill me,” she whispered.

“Oh, you’d be surprised,” Felton said hollowly.

There was a sound, a creak of a step, and Felton hissed, her hand coming around Aramis’ throat even as the arc-ray jittered against her scalp. “Who’s there?”

“Hello, Jan,” said a quiet, male voice.

Aramis breathed out, her pulse steadying as she recognised Athos. He might be a hot mess in his own life, but he was the best backup a girl could ask for.

Second only to Porthos, of course, who was there too, a step or two behind. They both looked relaxed, as if they had interrupted a tea party instead of attempted murder.

“Get out of here,” Felton snarled. “I know what you’re like, the three of you. You laugh and joke and pick fights like the world is your goddamned playground.”

“Sounds about right,” said Athos. He was at the foot of the steps now, and the shallow pool of light from the single solar lantern cast shadows across his face. “There are some things we take seriously. Loyalty, for instance.” His eyes flicked briefly at Aramis, taking stock of her position, then drew his focus right back to Felton.

“I don’t think you know a damned thing about loyalty,” Felton said bitterly.

“I know quite a lot about the man who’s managed to climb inside your head,” said Athos, resting one hand on the banister, still a safe enough distance from Aramis and her captor. Porthos stopped behind him, a couple of steps up. “I’ve been haunted by him for more than five years, Jan, since I cut off his head and had the body cremated. This is a ghost story, not an epic love saga. You need to let the ghost go.”

“You’re crazier than usual, Athos,” Jan said fiercely.

Athos smiled with all his teeth. “That’s when I’m best at my job.”

A tiny noise behind them alerted Aramis that they weren’t alone, and she shoved at Felton, pushing the arc-ray away from her. A body leaped out of the shadows, knocking Felton to the ground, and Aramis had secured the weapon before she realised it was a grim-looking Dana D’Artagnan.

“Where the hell did you come from?”

“Fuel chute at the back of the cellar,” Dana said, climbing off Felton and helping her up. “I was the only one small enough to fit.”

“Excuse me,” said Porthos politely, moving Athos aside. She took two steps and then punched Jan Felton solidly in the jaw. The other woman went down like a collapsed sack of grain. “Aramis, honey, is now a good time to admit that I’ve never liked any of your girlfriends?”

Aramis spluttered out a laugh, pocketing Felton’s arc-ray. At least some things never changed. “I love you too, Pol.”

The two of them stepped back as Athos pressed a Sobriety patch to Jan Felton’s neck. “If this doesn’t have an effect, we’ll have to assume there’s some kind of implant and send her off to surgery.”

“Do you think he did the Winter thing to her?” Dana asked.

“No idea,” said Athos. “Lucky us, we have a quiet cellar to ourselves and can interrogate the prisoner as much as we like.”

Oh, thought Aramis. That’s not ominous at all.

Dana was exhausted, and she had no idea what it was that generations of De Winters and their staff had used that fucking fuel chute for, but she could smell it all over her skin.

There was no time for sonic showers, not with what they had learned. She took the steps two at a time, racing up to the tower room where she had left Rosnay Cho and the artificial Milord.

They were still there, both of them. No one had managed to turn the hologram off and to Dana’s surprise as she entered the room, it actually looked like they were in polite conversation with each other.

“Am I interrupting something?” Dana blurted out.

Ro turned, as unflappable as ever. “I’m not learning anything that the tech gals won’t be able to drag out of this program once they get their hands on him. She crouched down and tapped a control on the knife that was the source of the projection, and the smirking figure of Milord vanished in a haze of pixels.

“Shame we can’t do that with the real one,” Dana said without thinking.

“Don’t think you’re the first to have that thought,” Ro shot back. “Did you find Aramis?”

“Athos and Porthos are questioning Felton now. It looks like she never made it off the island.”

Ro’s face went very serious at that revelation. “It was Milord, then, who assassinated Buck. He took Felton’s face.”

“Looks like it,” Dana agreed.

Ro picked up the small device from the floor, tossing it from hand to hand. “The bad news doesn’t stop there, buttercup. While you were playing in the cellar, I got a message from the investigators at Villiers House. They’ve picked up a trace of a comms message between Marie Chevreuse and Conrad Su on the day of the murder shortly after he went on the run – a copy of the message was bounced back to the house server thanks to the upgraded security net.”

Dana went very still. “What does that mean?”

“The kind of privacy settings that Minister Chevreuse uses on her messages means we never should have found that message. Looks like the Villiers House server was hacked and continued to feed information somewhere, hours after the assassin had disappeared.” She raised her eyebrows. “Does the Church of All Convent of Carmelline, in the peaks of the Drift Mountains, mean anything to you?”

Dana felt something break inside her. “That’s the safe house that Chevreuse supplied for Conrad Su.” The only people who should have that information were Chevreuse, Prince Alek, Conrad himself, Aramis and Dana. And the nuns, probably.

Ro nodded grimly. “Makes sense. So, with what we know about Milord and his means of operation, where do you think he’s heading next?”

Conrad, damn it all. I thought you were safe. “The convent,” Dana said in a resigned sigh. “I think that’s exactly where we’ll find him.”

If we’re not already too late.

You have been reading Musketeer Space, by Tansy Rayner Roberts. Tune in next week for another chapter! Please comment, share and link. Musketeer Space is free to read, but if you’d like to support the project for as little as $1 per month, please visit my Patreon page. Pledges can earn rewards such as ebooks, extra content, dedications and the naming of spaceships. Milestones already unlocked include the Musketeer Media Monday posts, the Robotech Rewatch posts, and “Seven Days of Joyeux,” a special Christmas prequel novella which was released in December 2014. My next funding milestone will unlock GORGEOUS COVER ART.