Tansy Rayner Roberts's Blog, page 44

Robotech Rewatch 48: Spy Hijinks Among the Clones

Hold your position, Robotech transmissions will now resume.

Another double episode as we race towards the conclusion of the Second Robotech War, the one where the army is mostly run by teenagers.

This one has a few dubious Alice in Wonderland visual metaphors, to make up for the fact that Dana and her boys obviously never took a class on covert operations in their lives.

Shut up, it’s a great disguise. Look at me, I’m a clone!

55. Dana in Wonderland

According to the Robotech Masters Dana’s very presence in the flagship is having a detrimental effect on the clones – which is put down to her erratic emotional state as a half-breed.

Dana is learning this for herself when Zor starts madly shooting at her – Angelo is very gallant and throws Dana to the floor to protect her with his body (aww) and then tries attacking a befuddled Zor by shooting at him from a hovertank (slightly more effective) but Dana has to yell instructions to him because he has it on the wrong setting. Poor Angie, he just can’t get anything right.

Zor fails to destroy them for no apparent reason, and Dana and Angie flee, meeting up with Louis, Bowie and Sean. Team WTF Are We Doing is back together again!

They attempt to sneak into a clone gathering by acting innocent and pretending they’re not interlopers, but Sean stuffs up their espionage attempts by chatting up women who turn out to travel only in threes.

His chat up lines really don’t work in triplicate. But he really does give it the old college try.

The clone women decide he must be faulty and perform a traumatising physical examination on him. It involves tickling and him getting his shirt off, because Sean.

Cover blown!

“What were you trying to DO?” Angie, pursued by a clone.

“Pass myself off as an alien, of course.” Sean, unrepentant.

Meanwhile, Musica medicates her emotional turmoil with her magical rainbow harp. Her sisters tell her of the recent alien incursion and she acts casual, then sidles off to investigate.

Some of the angry Robotech Masters look a lot like Jem and the Holograms. Or maybe the Misfits, whose songs are better.

Dana lies down randomly on a piece of alien technology (never do this) and falls asleep, then is woken up by Bowie and Louis. This plus the Wonderland title led me to think for some time that the whole episode was going to turn out to be a dream. It doesn’t. Hiding under the medical beds, they over hear some clone women complaining about how they had to touch one of the aliens. I think they’re talking about Sean, and I don’t blame them for being traumatised.

Dana, Bowie and Louis disguise themselves in blue cloaks and sneak into what they think is a coffee bar, but turns out to be a medical dispensary that provides them with a blue liquid they are supposed to consume before being bio-scanned.

So, and this is extraordinary, they VOLUNTARILY GET BIO-SCANNED. Isn’t that going to be a dead giveaway?

A clone nurse then announces she will cure their medical problem, and lures them into glass cases that will ‘fix’ them.

Dana continues to drink everything given to her (Drink Me!), and lie down helpfully on further pieces of medical equipment. NEVER DO THIS.

They are the worst spies ever.

A whole lot of unconscious clones react to Dana’s presence, turning into an unexpected zombie flashmob. After she and her boys escape that, we’re back in familiar ground with the being shot at, but Dana ends up falling down a tube (like Alice into Wonderland but faster) and collapses on a clone who is terribly polite at her.

She realises to her horror that these particular clones are here to be destroyed, their consciousness moved into other bodies. Particularly Polite Clone was found guilty of Original Thought.

Dana is furious at how no one is acting like humans, which does not do much to support her cover. This is basically a lesson in what not to do when performing intergalactic spy stuff.

Meanwhile, Sean and Angie have found some new outfits, sort of sexy armoured togas, and a couple of space mopeds. Ready for a rescue!

Bowie and Louis steal a small pod vehicle, but Bowie crashes it gently when he spots Musica, and runs after her. They finally get to hang out! For a romantic interlude, they sure do spend a lot of time sitting back to back and not looking at each other.

Still, they seem happy.

Louis ships it.

Oh, no, the inconvenient spurned fiancé turns up and starts shooting at them. They end up at a control centre which Louis tries to destroy, only to be CAPTURED BY LIVING PROTOCULTURE.

You guys, here’s a new definition of protoculture: it’s zappy tendrils that will mess you up!

Dana and Particularly Polite Clone are shot at (again) and run away, pursued by the Shoulder Pad Police. (Now I know where Sean and Angie got those costumes from!)

Her polite new friend is shot and killed, which Dana does not take well. Most of her friends are jerks, so she can’t afford to lose the only nice one.

“Please do not feel badly. You are Freedom, and my life means nothing.” Amazing last words from the Politest of Clones.

Sean and Angie finally run out of bullets and get captured, only to be hurled into a brig with the rest of their team. Everyone is cranky about their mission failure.

The Robotech Masters are intrigued by the cranky.

56. Crisis Point



The Robotech Masters’ fleet has taken a lot of serious damage. Inside the flagship, Louis and Sean lament the lack of air ducts which a) means no one should be able to breathe and b) they have no convenient escape route. I agree with Louis that we should really be concentrating on a)

Angie’s priority is giving Dana shit about the fact that Zor, the most obvious spy in the history of all humanity, turned out to be a spy.

Sean suggests that love is blind and Dana kicks him around a bit, which is fair enough.

This is of particular interest to the Robotech Masters, because of the human tendency to turn on each other in a crisis. They are obviously craving reality television to become a thing.

Zor is reported missing! How do you lose a Zor? He’s the one in the red Bioroid!

Musica is sad, and even jamming with her sisters can’t cheer her up. The magical rainbow harp can’t fix heartbreak! She suggests she needs some personal space from her sisters, and laments the loss of their lives before the triumvirate system.

They freak out, because she is thinking bad thoughts like independence and love. Then they freak out even more when they hear the news that Zor has gone rogue.

Musica takes the opportunity to weepflee, a skill she is even better at than harping.

Zor, whose inner thoughts are in a squeaky electronica voice instead of his usual deep “human” sound, is having hallucinations of Dana. When he wakes, still squeaky, he finds himself in Musica’s arms.

His memories are screwed up all over again – he barely remembers his time with the humans, and the mere mention of Dana from Musica sets off all kinds of psychedelic flashbacks which he thinks are nightmares.

She tells him: “You are Zor Prime, the clone of the First Robotech Master.” But then adds that if he knows too much, they will reprogram him. Only slightly helpful, Musica!

A mob of Thought Cops turn up on their hover discs and capture Zor. Musica tries to convince Carno, the reddest redhead, to spare Zor, but he is relentless on the grounds that she refused to be his lifemate that one time.

Her sisters turn up just in time for another emotional meltdown, and they watch in quiet awe as Musica does more weepfleeing. It is totally her best thing

In the brig, Dana tries to get the clones to stick to some prisoner of war ground rules, but they ignore her, so she smacks them around and weapons up.

Musica joins Bowie, and proves to be a source of really useful information. Angie considers that they now know how to completely trash the ship, but Musica is horrified. He points out that they are at war.

Bowie insists that their priority should be rescuing Zor, and Angie is very offended that no one wants him to blow anything up. Dana, unsurprisingly, sides with Bowie.

They find Zor stuck in a medical bay, about to be filled with a memory matrix which the Masters are hoping will allow him to pass on all that intelligence he collected during his spy mission.

Under Louis’ advice, Dana waits until the matrix is fully restored, and then they march in to collect Zor.

I think it’s important to note that many of these clones look like members of Sgt Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band, and others look like David Bowie on an off day.

Zor awakes slowly in the escape jeep, and is talking back at a human register again. He seems mildly surprised to have been rescued. Sweetie, we’re all surprised that Angie hasn’t shot you yet.

Angie’s getaway driving ends in a mighty crash, and they find themselves surrounded by Bioroids. Zor doesn’t recognise anyone at first and then starts remembering even more stuff. He begs Musica to explain why he is so important and she tells him he was a spy – there was a sensor in his brain, making him the eyes and ears of the Robotech Masters.

How embarrassing!

Emerson, meanwhile, out in space is about to attack the flagship despite being completely outmatched by the Robotech Masters on every other previous occasion.

Inside the same flagship, Sean laughs off the possibility that this might happen, on the grounds that they have Bowie with them, who is Emerson’s godson. Bowie insists that Emerson only thinks of him as another soldier and wouldn’t give him special treatment.

Oops, better get out of here fast, then.

As her new human friends shoot at her old clone friends, Musica tries to get to the barrier control, which is inconveniently located up a spiral staircase (the occupational health and safety issues in this place must be immense). She is knocked down by an explosion, and Bowie heads for the control himself. Teamwork.

The humans are taking some steady fire from the Bioroids, only for Zor in his own Bioroid to rescue them. He stays behind while they flee, but Dana promised to wait for him.

(Notably, Angelo does not promise to wait for him)

“Louis about how much time would you need to repair five hovercraft?” Dana gives her engineering genius a ticking clock and a near impossible task, to accomplish their escape. He puts up a mild argument then achieves it in the split second between scenes.

Emerson is preparing to shoot out the flagship in five minutes’ time (it takes a lot of time to stretch out your fingers and stuff before pressing the red button), and Marie Crystal interrupts him, reminding him that the 15th Squadron are still on board. Yes, he’s aware.

Zor is having an existential crisis, because he has to betray either Dana or his own people. He blows himself up, to solve the problem.

BOYS ARE DUMB.

Or as Dana puts it: “Zor, you stupid alien, you said you’d catch up with us. Oh no!”

Angelo manages to express some awkwardly unconvincing sympathy for her loss… but then Zor emerges from the blast zone, fit as a fiddle.

Emerson is relieved when the 15th are located, in the nick of time. Aren’t we all?

Oh did I mention that Musica escaped on the back of Bowie’s hovercraft? As if it’s not enough that she has just abandoned everything she ever knew for the cute pianist, the flagship containing everyone she’s ever cared about (ie her sisters and her magical rainbow harp) is destroyed by Emerson before he drops his mic and heads back to Earth.

Looks like the humans finally figured out what the big red buttons in their ships are for, after being pounded for the entire Second Robotech War thus far.

How will their highly militaristic human society react to Bowie’s alien clone civilian girlfriend? Tune in next week to find out.

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 49: I Just Called To Say I’m Grounded

It’s Musketeer Day! It’s been a hectic month, but I’m closing in on the final act of this sucker.

I’m really excited that Defying Doomsday funded a few days before the end of the campaign! It’s not too late to reserve your copy of the book now, and maybe score some great rewards too. If you ever wanted Alisa Krasnostein to knit you something, now is your opportunity!

Start reading Musketeer Space from Part 1

Missed the last installment? Track back to Part 48

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

Main Page & Table of Contents

PREVIOUSLY IN MUSKETEER SPACE:

Dana D’Artagnan met Conrad Su when his wife (her landlady) set her on a quest to rescue him after he was kidnapped… and Dana’s life has never been the same again. Since then, she has become tangled up with political intrigues, more kidnappings, terrorism, a space war, and an ill-advised love affair with an alien spy. Luckily for Dana, she has her friends the Musketeers to keep her sane, and provide her with cake along the way. Also swords. Swords and cake.

NOW READ ON!

Chapter 49: I Just Called To Say I’m Grounded

The four of them hustled away, off the bridge and along a series of grey corridors on the Bastion, which mostly went around in circles. Dana was pretty sure they weren’t heading anywhere in particular at this point, but Athos was moving for the sake of not punching walls.

“She wouldn’t let us go after Buckingham?” Porthos asked.

Athos growled under his breath. “Need somewhere we won’t be overheard. In here.” He lurched them towards a storage room that turned out to be more of a cupboard than a room, but Aramis, Dana and Porthos pressed obediently into the small space, surrounded by humming printers.

“Is it me?” Dana asked quickly, trying to stave off the swoopy feeling in her stomach. “She wants me to go back to my duties on the Frenzy Kenzie?”

“No, you’re definitely off that detail for now,” said Athos with a vague wave of his hand. “Porthos and Aramis are to return to their own ships in the armoured shuttle after the next ceasefire. But you and me, Dana, we’re assigned to the Bastion for the foreseeable future.”

Aramis and Porthos were both staring at Athos with wide, startled eyes. “Athos, what did you say to her?” Aramis asked in alarm.

“The truth,” he said impatiently.

Now it was Dana’s turn to go all wide-eyed and startled. “How much of the truth?” she demanded.

“Pretty much all of it. I was trying for honesty points.” Athos looked weary, as if he was a living example of why honesty helped no one.

“And how did that work out for you?” asked Porthos.

Athos winced visibly. “I made a major miscalculation. Well, two miscalculations, but at least one of them was based on information I didn’t have at the time.”

Aramis leaned into Athos, one hand stroking his hair. “Breathe, darling, and try to talk at human speeds for the sake of us mere mortals. What’s the problem?”

Athos visibly calmed down at Aramis’ touch which did indeed seem to slow him for a beat or two. “Fine. Good point. The problem is that Treville doesn’t give a fuck about whether the Duchess of Buckingham lives or dies. She thinks the Cardinal’s plan to squeeze more ships out of Valour is stupid and won’t work, but she’s not willing to let all four of us abandon the war in order to scupper it.”

“But she knows now about Milord,” Dana burst out. “Surely she must understand how important it is to stop him, and discredit him in the eyes of the Cardinal…”

“… And get him out of play,” Porthos added grimly.

“Yes,” said Athos, and he looked utterly miserable. That couldn’t be good. “She does understand that. But Treville has her own priorities right now. It turns out that the Sun-kissed have made diplomatic overtures. In twelve hours, the Regent and the Cardinal and Amiral Treville will be communicating directly with whoever is in charge of all those shape-shifting red blobs in their shape-shifting grey teardrop ships, and we get to find out if there’s anyone still alive down on Truth.”

Aramis’ hand stopped stroking Athos’ hair. “Yes,” she said in a strangled whisper. I can see how that is slightly more important than an assassination attempt on Valour.”

“But that has nothing to do with us,” repeated Dana. “Not directly, at least. Right?” She was still trying to get her head around the part where she had been released from her duties on the supplies transport. For what?

Athos gave Dana an apologetic look. “The problem is – the other problem, on a very long list of problems – is that I just revealed to Treville that you and I have both had recent personal experience with a Sun-kissed spy. So she wants to keep us here on the Bastion, in order to answer as many intrusive and embarrassing questions of military relevance that may or may not come up during the conversation with the Sun-kissed.”

Dana sighed and let her head fall back against the nearest printer with a thunk.

“You know,” Porthos said after a moment of long and awkward silence. “I always thought if one of us ended up entangled in a highly political and sensitive alien sex scandal, it would be Aramis.”

Dana kicked her in the ankle.

“What now?” Aramis asked with a sigh, her fingers continuing to scratch lightly at Athos’ scalp since he didn’t have as much hair to play with these days. “How long before Porthos and I have to be back on regular duty?”

“Two hours until the next shuttle back to Chaillot Station,” said Athos. “Until they give us a real mission, we are going to devote all out time to figuring out how to save the Duchess of Buckingham’s life and screw over Milord De Winter without leaving Truth Space. Any objections?”

“Chevreuse, obviously,” said Aramis. “She can help.”

“Not close enough, but yes, said Athos. “She can warn Buck, at least. Maybe send support. Who do we know on Valour?”

“The Countess of Clarick,” said Dana thoughtfully.

That took Athos aback. “You mean the one with all the New Aristocrat wanker friends we had the duel with?”

“She’s his sister-in-law. And she’s crazy loyal about her family, but – I don’t know if she’d still be on his side if she knew the truth about what he is and where he comes from.”

“Devious,” Athos said admiringly. “I like it. There’s also the highly embarrassing possibility that I’m still married to the bastard, which means I get to have a delightful conversation with her about breach of contract and bigamy. Meanwhile, Porthos. Got any convenient boyfriends in positions of power, influence or really sharp swords anywhere on Valour who could get to Buck before Milord does?”

“All my boyfriends tend to be conveniently located around Paris,” said Porthos. “Not that it’s not still faster to get to Valour from Paris than from Truth Space. But…” And she looked at Aramis, who rolled her eyes and groaned with genuine pain.

“No.”

“It’s not a bad idea.”

“It’s a terrible idea.”

“Well, if you will go having affairs with married women who storm off to become important people on other planets, sooner or later that’s something we’re going to have to take advantage of.”

“But she hates me.”

“We’re not talking about Chevreuse again, are we?” asked Athos, frowning.

“Felton,” sighed Aramis. “We’re talking about Jan Felton. Who quit the Red Guards to take up a position as the Marshal of Castillion, two years ago.”

Athos blinked again. “But she hates you.”

“She hates me so much,” Aramis agreed.

“We’ll bring her in anyway. Porthos is right, we can’t afford to be choosy. Comms room, let’s get messaging.” Athos made a shooing motion, and pushed Aramis and Porthos out of the printer cupboard. He glanced back briefly over his shoulder at Dana as he went. “Oh, and we have to call D’Artagnan’s mother.”

Now Dana was worried. “Mama? Why?”

Athos was impatient that she would even ask. “Because Treville finally promoted you to Captain-Lieutenant, which makes you a full Musketeer. Mothers like to know that sort of thing.”

Aramis and Porthos crowed with delight, but Athos grabbed each of them by the neck and propelled them along the corridor, leaving Dana gaping on her own in a cupboard full of printers.

“What,” was all she could think of to say. “No, really. WHAT?”

The Saint-Gervais, AKA the Bastion, had many facilities and resources not enjoyed by standard Fleet ships – not only the impregnable shielding (balanced out by a complete inability to use any offensive weaponry) but also a state-of-the-art comms room.

Athos had been right to bring them here. The Bastion had been designed to be the final hold-out for high-ranking personnel, and not only featured highly secured military frequencies (those very lines of communications that made jump engines feasible) but also the luxury of privacy booths and access to those same securities for personal calls.

Aramis and Porthos had stayed long enough for Aramis to make discreet calls to Chevreuse at her office on one of the Daughters of Peace, and to Marshal Felton on Valour. They were gone now, queuing for the shuttle back to Chaillot Station so they could return to their ships and the Fleet.

Dana knew that it wasn’t more dangerous for them to fly back on the official shuttle than it had been with Athos in the Pistachio, dodging and weaving the laser blasts from the Sun-kissed on their way here, but it felt more dangerous somehow, whenever the four of them were separated.

Not Dana and her three Musketeers. They were four Musketeers now. It might take her a while to get used to that idea.

Athos was now enclosed in one of the privacy booths, continuing a long and possibly painful conversation with Bianca “Bee” De Winter, the Countess of Clarick. Dana had squeezed in there with him long enough to make the introductions – should Bee fail to recognise the man who had so effortlessly kebabbed one of her friends with a rapier-length Pilot’s Slice back on Paris Satellite – but withdrew once Athos began telling his story.

Dana was ridiculously proud of him, though she couldn’t help but worry. He had concealed his true identity for so long, keeping Athos the Musketeer as far as possible from the troubled and officially deceased Comte de la Fere. Now it was all spilling out, for the sake of Crown and Solar System and the life of the Duchess of Buckingham.

Yes, she worried. What would Athos do without that layer of secrets hugged to his chest?

In between the calls that Aramis had made, Porthos had attempted to get a call directly through to Villiers House, where the Duchess of Buckingham was supposed to be. Dana had run through the app Planchet had made for her a million years ago, which gathered all of Buck’s appearances on social media, but the athletic duchess had become something of a digital hermit in recent weeks.

Still, there was no hint that she had stepped outside her home in days. Why wouldn’t she accept the call? They kept trying, Dana taking over the job after Porthos left with Aramis.

Perhaps Chevreuse would have better luck getting through.

Dana leaned back against the smooth, white curve of the privacy booth wall, wondering if Athos was done with his own call yet, and if Bee would prove to be an ally. They had decided it was worth the risk to try and tell her the truth – after all, it wasn’t like Athos had not already tipped Milord off that they knew his plans.

And at least – it was a small thing to be grateful for – but at least Milord did not have that sealed stud from the Cardinal, promising amnesty for any crime he cared to commit. At least Athos had secured that.

Dana had been trying very hard not to think about the fact that Milord wanted her death as a personal reward for the latest assassination he had been requested to carry out.

Worst rebound fling ever.

She hit the call key again and watched a still image of Villiers House, in the duchy of Buckingham, on the continent of Castillion, on the planet Valour, fill the screen as she waited for the signal to tell her for the fourth time, that the call had not been accepted.

Instead, the screen flickered and gave way to a friendly amber-brown face with gold scales running down the edge of his face and neck, and blue-tipped spiky black hair.

Goddamn, she had forgotten how beautiful Conrad Su was. He wore loose practice gear, and was grinning as if she had caught him in the middle of laughing at someone else’s joke. “Villiers House,” he said smoothly in his courtier’s voice, then did a double take at the screen. “Holy shit.”

“Hey,” said Dana, laughing at him, because he looked mortified at losing his cool in front of her, and that was kind of adorable. “Miss me?”

“Always,” he said, recovering a little of his usual swagger. “How did you even know I was hiding out here?”

“I didn’t. I called for Buck.”

“Well, now I am disappointed.” And Conrad made a disappointed face that made her want to reach through the screen and smack him, or possibly kiss his face off.

Yeah, who was she even kidding with those options.

“I’m actually being serious now,” she told him sternly. “This is my serious expression. Has anything unusual happened lately?”

“Buck keeps to herself most of the time. I’ve hardly managed to get her to joust with me at all, though she has a kickass zero-G practice tank in her back garden. Luckily she seems to hire security guards who like their sport, so I can usually find someone off duty to play with me. Keeps me from going completely stir crazy.”

Dana grazed her lower lip with her teeth. “No security issues to worry about?”

“We’ve had word from the local Marshal to be on alert, and we’ve stepped up house and perimeter patrols,” said Conrad, his face losing some of its customary humour. “You had something to do with that?”

Felton was on it, then, after being alerted by Aramis to the situation. That was good to know.

“There’s been an assassination threat,” said Dana, and she hesitated to say it out loud, but these comms lines were the best they were likely to ever have access to, it wasn’t as if they wanted it to be a state secret. Still, part of her felt that if she said the name out loud, then Conrad would figure out everything – her ridiculous behaviour around Milord, for a start – and she hadn’t realised until now that she really, really did not want him to know what an idiot she had been.

Huh. That was probably something to emotionally unpack at some point. But not right now.

“To Buck?” Conrad asked, switching quickly from flirtatious to businesslike.

“Given your history with the assassin in question, you’re probably both at risk.” A stab of worry went through Dana, but it wasn’t like she had any right to tell Conrad to leave Villiers House, to put as much distance as he could between himself and the Duchess of Buckingham.

“Ah,” Conrad sighed, tilting his head tiredly to one side. “Our silver-haired friend?”

“He doesn’t always look the same,” said Dana, and bit her lip again, hard. “And I don’t just mean that he wears brown hair half the time, especially when he’s on Valour. I mean, he could look like anyone, Conrad.”

The tailor whistled beneath his breath. “I’ve heard of tech like that.”

“So have I,” Dana said pointedly. “But I’m pretty sure he doesn’t have to use it.”

And there it was, his expression freezing over as her information finally got across. There were only one known race who could change their faces as easily as their clothes, and the Solar System were currently at war with them.

“Fuck,” said Conrad.

“I know.”

“I mean, fuck. If he could look like anyone – we took on new security today, Dana.”

“He’s not there yet,” Dana assured him. “He can’t be. He was on Chaillot Station less than six hours ago. Even if he uses jump, even if he switches ships at Peace so there’s no waiting, it will be at least another day before he gets to Valour.”

“But when he gets here,” Conrad said sombrely. “He could look like anyone.”

She could see his brain working behind his eyes. He was already figuring out the best way to keep Buck safe. He had spent his whole life doing this for Alek, and now he had another selfish, privileged New Aristocrat to babysit.

“You could just get out of there,” Dana said quickly. “Hop a transport for Paris, you’re not his target right now…”

But if Milord turned up at Villiers House and found Conrad Su there, so soon after Prince Alek had freed him from captivity… it was impossible to believe that he wouldn’t take a moment to enact a personal revenge.

“Yeah, that’s not going to happen,” said Conrad with a biting smile. “Anything else I should know?”

Dana hesitated. There was something else, something that had been churning around in the back of her head since her own first trip to Valour. She hadn’t articulated it to Athos and the others, because she wasn’t sure if it was too crazy for even them to accept.

“When I met Buck,” she said slowly. “You know, when I went to collect – that mission you sent me on.” Secured line or no secured line, she was not going to say the words ‘Prince Consort’s diamond studs’ aloud.

“I remember,” said Conrad, his mouth curving into a soft smile that made Dana feel warm all over.

“She was having a kind of breakdown. She seemed to think – she called him Winter, but it was him. She seemed to think that a version of him, the scary silver-haired assassin version of him, was actually inside her head. Watching her. She kept herself drugged or drunk or both, to keep him at bay. And – it could just be paranoia…”

“But she could be compromised,” Conrad said slowly. “I get you.”

“I mean, it couldn’t be real. A person can’t just climb inside another person’s brain…”

“Can’t they?” said Conrad, his dark eyes fastening on hers. “I’ve got this, Dana. You’re saying that I can’t necessarily trust that Buck’s decisions will be in her own best interest.”

“Yes,” said Dana, blowing out a sigh of relief. “That’s what I’m saying.”

“Good to know.” He gave her a small smile. “You won’t be riding in to save the day, though?”

“No.” Guilt rose up in her. “We want to, but we have to follow orders. Hopefully – he won’t even get near the house. If it comes off the way it’s supposed to. But keep your guard up.”

“Always do.” His face lit up with humour. “Don’t suppose you have a comms code I can use? To keep you in the loop.”

Dana hadn’t even thought of that – this was how unsettled she was, just from seeing him. She leaned in and pressed her wrist to the transmission screen, giving Conrad the code of the Prince Consort’s opal that she still wore there. She and Athos had pawned the De La Fere sapphire to fund the restoration of the Pistachio and the Buttercup, which meant she was free to hang on to the opal for the time being.

It felt appropriate to let Conrad communicate with her that way, and it would not be a bad thing to keep him off her general comm stud, from which she received Fleetnet communications as well as those (when not blocked by military protocol) of her friends.

Conrad grinned as he received the code. “I like the jacket, by the way,” he observed.

Dana felt her cheeks grow hot. “It belongs to Aramis. I – haven’t had a chance to print one of my own yet, and she didn’t want me to wait.”

“Still, I assume that means congratulations are in order,” Conrad said slyly. “Captain D’Artagnan. I knew you were going places the first time I laid eyes on you.”

“Oh?” Dana teased. “Was that before or after I tackled you to the ground?”

“Definitely during.” He gave her a steady, measuring look, and then kissed his palm and pressed it to the screen. “Take care of yourself. You know, what with the whole interstellar war thing you’ve got going on over there. Come home, yeah?”

“You too,” she said, her throat feeling dry, because there was something ridiculously intimate about ‘come home’ which meant Paris, it had to mean Paris, and not anything more than that. Slowly, she leaned in and kissed the screen. “Keep in touch, Conrad.”

“You too, babe. Bring me back something pretty from the war.”

End call.

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 47: Your Humanitarian Ethics Are Spoiling My War

Attention, Micronians! Robotech is back. A double whammy of episodes this week – and I’m going to have to do a lot more double eps if we’re going to get through this before Musketeer Space winds up.

53. The Hunters

Once again, the narrator is on top of current events and thank goodness for that. In this case, he’s spotted an Invid Sensor Nebula nearby, scanning for evidence of protoculture. The Robotech Masters’ worst nightmare and all that! (AKA foreshadowing for the next time that they are going to take an unrelated Robotech-ish show and redub it as if it’s part of the same saga)

Dana is enjoying some downtime, gambling chocolate bars against Louis on who is better at a computer game he designed. (Spoiler: it’s her)

Bowie, suspiciously dressed in civvies while the rest of them lounge out in flight suits with pointy bits, slides out to “go play piano.” Until told otherwise I choose to believe he is working a second job as a strippogram. Or maybe he’s working for the mob now?

Louis is so outraged at his defeat that he reprograms the game so that his eyes fire the guns in the game. A couple of suspiciously friendly officers in orange suits are so intrigued that they ask Dana if they can borrow Louis for the Robotech Division because his new game modification is awesome.

Meanwhile, General Emerson and his fleet are off to battle at Moon Base Alice. Marie Crystal and her pilots come under extreme fire.

Emerson ends up attempting to blast the enemy into a black hole. Don’t even go there. It’s crazy but it’s their only hope of survival!

I think everyone should worry about how close a black hole apparently is to the moon, but maybe that’s just me.

Marie Crystal was never a character I particularly noticed in my younger days – I was far more attached to Dana and Nova, the latter because of my mild obsession with blue & green-haired fictional girls. But I’m loving the portrayal of Marie as a tough, cool-under-pressure leader. She’s just so competent! If only she didn’t have such sucky taste in men…

At one point they lose Emerson’s mothership – as in it disappears into another dimension while using an orbital blaster (or warp blast manoeuvre) on the enemy ships – but then it turns up again. I have stopped trying to keep track of how Robotech battle works. Things go foom.

Dana interrupts the 15th’s lunch break to tell them that they will be joining the upcoming space invasion – their hover tanks have been completely remodelled for space warfare.

Yes, since yesterday

Louis is horrified to discover that his game breakthrough has been implemented in the hovertanks to make them more lethal to the enemy Bioroids (yes, also since yesterday). He grabs a flame gun (what, it was just convenient?) and is going to try to destroy the hovertanks. Dana agrees with him (as does Bowie who is disgusted by the idea of murdering aliens) and is only talked out of destroying millions of dollars worth of military hardware by Zor being earnest at her.

I’m starting to suspect there are too many pacifists in this army for it to work at maximum efficiency…

Also, they should make those flame guns slightly less accessible during lunch breaks.

54. Mind Games

The Southern Cross armada gather at Moon Base Alice – all ships that were off in deep space have been recalled (this does not of course include anyone who was a main character in the First Robotech War because they’re in deep deep deep space and inaccessible for reasons).

The 15th are getting cranky and rebellious – and it’s Zor, not Dana, who shuts them all down with yet another a suitably inspiring speech. Sigh. Maybe that guy should go into politics.

Lt Brown (whose name turns out to be Dennis) is shipping out with the 15th and gives a casual farewell to Nova, who is obviously very taken with him. They might have only had two scenes together, but they are basically my OTP in this series.

Broody Bowie is crankypants and Dana tries to investigate only to find out that he has Feelings about Zor. No, not those kind of feelings. But meeting Zor (and unspoken, Musica) means Bowie struggles with the violence of the war and the fact that they are killing people, not creatures.

Dana pulls the ‘I’m half alien’ card in the hope of preventing him from any further outbursts of humanity, but it doesn’t work. Bowie is at heart a reluctant soldier, and it’s taking its toll on him. If only he hadn’t been born into a militaristic post-apocalyptic society in which shooting things is the only available job for high school graduates.

Careers counsellors are severely under-resourced at this time.

Slightly enthused about killing people after Dana’s vaguely encouraging speech, Bowie heads in battle with the rest of them. Time to put these hovertanks into space!

Spaaaace.

The beautiful redheaded clone boys (one of whom is betrothed to Musica) climb into the new ships developed by the Robotech Masters – referred to as Invid fighters which isn’t going to be confusing at ALL.

Dana and the others are confused by the new ships and new tactics of the enemy – no Bioroids in sight, just armoured vehicles and a trio of what look like mini-Voltrons on surfboards.

Angelo suggests they aim at the faceplates – it completely destroys the ships – but Bowie hesitates, reluctant to kill any clones while he still has soppy thoughts about Musica. Dana reminds him that they are programmed to kill him, which seems to work.

Marie flies in to save Sean after he is isolated from his squadron, thereby proving herself superior to him in every way. Damsel this, bucko.

Alien reinforcements arrive which is a problem for the Earth forces – as Emerson notes, their battle plans doesn’t include provision for withdrawal (which makes it officially a STUPID battle plan). He announces a retreat anyway.

The 15th break into the Masters’ flagship and are doing fine up until Zor has a funny turn and takes off. Angelo is determined to “fix him” because he sees Zor as a traitor now, much to Dana’s distress. He starts shooting wildly in the hope of tracking Zor down… and they come face to face with a Red Bioroid.

The Bioroid opens to reveal Zor inside who makes a speech about how they have fallen into his trap because, you know, he was always working for the Robotech Masters.

No one should be remotely surprised at this turn of events… and yet.

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 – Convergence Special – Oracle, JLI, Batgirl

A slightly different Issue #1 review this time – because DC Comics have exploded with a multitude of #1s of the like unseen since the New 52 revamp. I hate a massive sprawling comics event as much as anyone else (seriously, does anyone enjoy these?) but the premise for this one had me at “Nightwing and Oracle,” so…

WHAT’S IT ALL ABOUT? DC Comics have taken a two month break from continuity to tell a story that involves sneak peeks into that multiverse they’ve been struggling to distance themselves from since 1985. So they’ve thrown out all their regular comics and instead are telling one core ‘event’ book, orbited by a bunch of two-issue mini series which are designed to a) hit us in our nostalgia wallets, which are much like ice cream stomachs, apparently of endless capacity & b) remind us of all the great characters that DC Comics threw under the bus with the New 52 reboot.

DC if your aim here is to make us extra trepidatious about what the hell Marvel is going to do with its own universe reboot later this year, then good job. Well done there.

Ahem.

I actually really love multiverse stories, and DC’s use of them is probably at least partly responsible for it. But is this a good multiverse story?

SHOULD YOU READ THE CONVERGENCE EVENT BOOK?

Well, you can. I’ve read the first 3 issues, though, and am underwhelmed thus far. If you get the premise of the event – a powerful being has ripped whole cities out of different realities and put them under glass domes on his planet so they can fight each other – then you don’t actually need to read the central book which is ridiculously expensive per issue. In retrospect, I’d dip into the side books of interest now and wait for the trade. Grayson is the most interesting of the characters we’re supposed to follow, but his narrative doesn’t provide anything groundbreaking, and even in a post apocalyptic sideways future, there’s still only one girl on the team. Oh, DC. This is how you lost me in the late 90′s. Do you never learn?

Never mind that, let’s look at some Issue #1s! I was picky with which books I picked up, because there are so many to choose from, and they all have such intriguing covers. Mostly I acquired the ones that made me go ‘damn it, DC, why isn’t this a regular book already?’

TITLE: Nightwing & Oracle

WRITER: Gail Simone

ARTIST: Jan Duursema (pencils), Dan Parsons (inks), Wes Dzioba (color)

WHY DID I PICK IT: Nightwing and Oracle, come on! The lack of Oracle in the current DC universe is one of my greatest sadnesses about it (up there with the lack of the proper Black Canary and the disappearance of Wally West). Also, I love these two characters together under any and all circumstances, but written by Simone is what made it tempting.

WAS IT WORTH IT? Eh, I’m not sure. I like Oracle’s voice and her perspective on how life in the city has changed since it got stolen and put under a dome, but I am just hella confused by the actual personal relationship between Dick, Babs and Starfire (though having real Starfire back, hooray) and it doesn’t seem like something that can be resolved in one more issue. Babs is drawn far too cheesecakey for my liking, though to be fair so is Dick (always a plus) and they’re continuing the weird New 52 thing of her referring to him as Richard, which is wrong on so many levels. But evil Thanagarians make a great villain and the gleam of kickass Oracle at the end (with her killer last line) is enough to make me tune in to find out what happens next.

TITLE: Justice League International

WRITER: Ron Marz

ARTIST: Mike Manley

WHY DID I PICK IT: Because Justice League International is my favourite and my best, it is the reason I fell in love with comics and there is a tiny engraving of Blue Beetle permanently lodged in my heart. This is where my nostalgia lives, and if you ruin this for me, I will break something.

WAS IT WORTH IT? My hopes actually weren’t high, which was probably for the best, but I did enjoy some of the creative choices here. Instead of going for the more iconic and well-established-as-nostalgiaworthy Bwa-Ha-Ha era of JLI, they chose to make use of the much later era of the comic, which I was deeply attached to (though I kind of thought no one else was). So we have Blue Beetle as a calm, competent but slightly melancholy leader, a far more military iteration of Fire (without the boobs-are-a-character-in-their-own-right artwork that marred her characterisation in the mid 90’s), and Ice as the reliable co-worker and friend.

It doesn’t work well. This issue is a love letter to Blue Beetle in many ways – showing how he has coped and brought everyone together as a leader when all their powers were stolen by the dome (because he never had any) and that he’s been busy inventing things, etc. But it’s at the expense of other characters – I can’t believe for one second that Captain Atom would just sit there and let Ted be leader, powers or no powers, and his dull, out of character presence actively detracts from the story.

Ditto for Red Tornado. Why is he here? What does he contribute? He wasn’t part of that era of comics and he is super boring under all circumstances. In this issue? He’s wallpaper. Boring wallpaper.

Thing is, the era that they have supposedly been snatched from? It was full of drama and action and major character development, all of which has been shoved to one side here, which is a shame – makes the team feel a lot more generic than specific to the pre Zero Hour era. And yes I am saying that because I’ve read those comics so many times that they are still blazoned across my memory. Shut up, what are you looking at?

The power of the JLI comic was always the story behind the battles – the friendships and the conversations. There wasn’t nearly enough of that here to make this feel authentic to any era of Justice League International.

On the other hand, I’m glad I got to read this because finally someone other than me is shipping Blue Beetle with Fire, and COME ON, about time, people.

TITLE: Batgirl

WRITER: Alisa Kwitney

ARTIST: Rick Leonardi, Mark Pennington, Steve Buccellato

WHY DID I PICK IT: Steph and Cass, Steph and Cass, Steph and Cass.

WAS IT WORTH IT? Yes, this is my favourite so far! Kwitney has taken the (kind of stupid) premise of isolated dome cities fighting each other, and told a rich, interesting story about how Stephanie Brown gave up being Batgirl, only to be called back into action as a champion for her displaced city. Her tensions with friends Tim Drake (Red Robin) and Cassandra Cain (Black Bat) come across really powerfully in this issue, which looks at the Gotham social chaos as well as the pressure of representing your people’s entire survival. I would read an ongoing Kwitney-Steph Brown title in a hot second.

Musketeer Space Part 48: Cake Under Fire

It’s Musketeer Day!

All good space opera can be improved by cake. You know it’s true.

Only nine days left to support Defying Doomsday. Please make this book happen! Meanwhile, Kaleidoscope got a fantastic review on Strange Horizons.

Start reading Musketeer Space from Part 1

Missed the last installment? Track back to Part 47

Read a festive Musketeer Space prequel,

“Seven Days of Joyeux.”

Main Page & Table of Contents

PREVIOUSLY IN MUSKETEER SPACE:

The Sun-kissed have invaded the Solar System, besieging the planet of Truth and terrorising humanity. Porthos has been fighting the war like the rest of her friends – but while she, Aramis and D’Artagnan were waiting in a nightclub back room to report their latest intelligence to Amiral Treville, Athos was off eavesdropping on Cardinal Richelieu… and confronting his dangerous ex-husband.

NOW READ ON:

Chapter 48: Cake Under Fire



Porthos was worried about Athos.

To be fair, Porthos was always worried about Athos. It had become a sort of familiar background noise ever since she and Aramis found the miserable drunkard clinging to the side of a mountain, half-dead and drenched in the mud of Valour. For Porthos, not worrying about Athos was like not sonic-cleaning her teeth – uncomfortable and itchy and wrong, somehow.

Having said that, there were times in her life when she had particular reason to worry about Athos. His recent brush with a stims overdose in the middle of a battle was a fine example, not to mention the many ships he had managed to crash and burn since becoming a Musketeer.

He was made of steel, but ridiculously fragile. Porthos believed that part of him had never entirely recovered from that Joyeux, more than nine months ago now, when Athos had fallen victim to a terrorist drug that gave him hallucinations of his dead husband and drove him close to suicide.

Discovering that the husband in question was still alive, and an enemy alien – Porthos had expected that to break Athos even further, straight away.

She was still waiting for evidence that it had not.

When he returned to their back room rendezvous in Dovecote Red, his eyes alight with energy and a goddamn smile on his face, the last thing she expected him to say was “I know where Milord is going next. And I know how to stop him. Where’s Treville?”

“Hang on,” said Porthos, wanting to get this straight. “You saw him?”

“Yes, we had a lovely chat. Seriously, where’s Treville?”

“She couldn’t make it,” Aramis said, staring at Athos oddly. “Sent a brief coded message by Fleetnet – she’s stuck on the Bastion for the foreseeable future. They’re under extreme fire from the Sun-kissed right now, no shuttles can safely go back and forth.”

“Fine,” said Athos, grinning like a lunatic. “We’ll go to her. Pack a picnic. It’ll be fun.”

Aramis blinked. “They’re under extreme fire from the Sun-kissed right now, no shuttles can safely go back and forth,” she repeated with greater force.

“Darts are faster and more manoeuvrable than shuttles,” said Athos as if that was a reasonable response.

“Athos,” said Dana in a voice that made it clear she, like the rest of them, thought he had completely gone off the deep end. “You spoke to Milord? Why didn’t you – arrest him?”

“He’s so far in the Cardinal’s pocket, she’d spring him before we had the handcuffs closed,” said Athos cheerfully. “But he’s already failed her once, with the diamond bullshit. If we make sure he fails his next mission, I think she’ll finally wash her hands of him, and that’s when we can move in and nab him for good.”

“And what is his next mission?” Porthos asked, seriously wondering if they needed to call in a medic to give Athos a shot of something. When had he last slept? When had any of them?

“To assassinate the Duchess of Buckingham,” said Athos. “Come on, Bastion, now. I wasn’t kidding about the picnic, Treville’s always more amenable to crazy stunts if she’s not hungry. Is there anywhere around here that sells cake?”

At least he was admitting that the stunt was likely to be crazy. “Athos, it’s the Bastion,” Aramis said in a gentle, sympathetic voice. Treville’s command ship, the Saint-Gervais, was referred to as ‘the Bastion’ because it had almost impregnable space armour. “We’ll get shot out of the sky if we try to board her.”

“I know,” said Athos. “But if we go AWOL in the middle of this war without Treville’s knowledge, it will be our own people who shoot us out of the sky. So, worth the risk. And also, cake.” He nodded, as if he was making complete and total sense.

“You’re going to get us killed,” groaned Dana. “Mercilessly. If not by the Sun-kissed, then by Amiral Treville.”

Porthos sighed. “I can source the cake,” she admitted.

There was nothing in the known universe more awesome than hiring an engie who turned out to be a stress baker. Bonnie was easygoing most of the time – with her huge, sprawling family who genuinely seemed to like each other, and her no-nonsense philosophy on life, she was actually the most well-adjusted person that Porthos knew.

When they were setting the Hoyden up together, back when Porthos first joined the Musketeers, Bonnie’s one demand had been a built-in bread oven along with the more standard food printer. When Porthos protested – because she hadn’t known any better – Bonnie devoted the next twelve hours to teaching her the difference between printed bread and freshly baked bread.

Porthos had never argued with Bonnie (about anything kitchen related) ever again.

That was before she even realised that when under pressure, or stressed, or bored (or any combination of the three), her engie would bake her way into infinity and beyond.

War, with its long waits between short bursts of terror and danger, was highly stressful, and allowed surprisingly large amounts of uninterrupted baking time.

Porthos had no idea if Athos knew that her ship was basically full of cake at this point, or if he had subconsciously picked up the scent of chocolate ganache where it had infused into her uniform, but his request was, for once, easy to fulfil.

At least, the cake part was.

Two hours after Athos burst into the back room with wild eyes and a determination to crush either Milord or the Cardinal or both of them in a bizarre cake-related scheme, Porthos stood on the bridge of the Saint-Gervais musket-class base ship, holding a covered basket and feeling like an idiot.

Amiral Treville, her massive muscled shoulders expanding as she faced them down, was vibrating with fury. “WHAT THE HELL KIND OF STUNT WAS THAT?”

Athos gave Treville his wickedest grin, the one he saved for special occasions, like having to explain how he nearly got himself and his friends shot out of the sky while technically off duty.

Not that special, really, once you started adding all those occasions up.

“Amiral, we had urgent intelligence and it really couldn’t wait…” he began, but Treville cut him off.

“The four of you just sailed directly through a barrage of enemy fire, during an active operation, to board a command vehicle without any prior notification over the comms? Oh, and you did it in a bright green dart which is not yet cleared for battle. Nor is its stupid, foolhardy, reckless addict of a pilot.”

Athos’s grin widened. “You forgot to mention the part where we brought you cake. Because we did. Cake!”

Treville’s eyes widened to dangerous, bulging levels. Porthos had never seen her angrier, and that was saying something.

“I’d like to interject at this point and let you know that I personally tested Athos’ blood readings before letting him fly us here, and he’s surprisingly sober,” Aramis said helpfully.

Treville’s eyes stopped bulging, at least, but this new expression of wariness wasn’t much better. “Is there some reason that should be a surprise to me, Captain Aramis?”

Aramis thought about what she had just said. “No,” she said finally. “But it might also be of casual relevance to this conversation that he’s also not currently on any drugs.”

Porthos did her very best not to let her own surprise at this revelation show, and she caught Dana doing much the same. They shared a strangled sort of expression, and then turned their eyes back to Amiral Treville. Porthos was trying for innocent accomplice but she thought it more likely that her own face currently said ‘looking for an airlock to jump out of.’

“So this…” Treville said, waving vaguely at Athos’ utterly chipper demeanour, and the way he was bouncing enthusiastically on his heels.

“Natural high, boss,” Aramis informed her.

“No,” Treville decided. “There’s nothing natural about that fucking smile on his face.”

Athos blew her a kiss.

“Ready room, all of you,” Treville barked, marching towards her private quarters. “Lacois, you have the helm. Try not to get us blown up while I’m yelling at Musketeers.”

“To be fair, boss, that is the way you’d want to go out,” and oh, it was Porthos who had said that out loud. What the hell had got into her?

Treville gave her a filthy look. “Bring the damned cake, Captain Porthos,” she ordered.

The basket contained a warm orange honey cake that Bonnie’s grandmother had taught her to make, and something sticky involving chocolate and cherries, and a pastry arrangement with cinnamon custard that Porthos basically wanted to hug to her chest and defend from the rest of them.

Since Athos had supervised the packing of the basket, there were also two flasks of champagne, and three of hot coffee. Under Treville’s judgy eye, while Porthos silently served out wedges of cake with napkins and tiny forks, Aramis poured the coffee and discreetly nudged the champagne back under the cloth for later.

“So,” said Treville, once she had downed one and a half cups of powerful espresso, and fully appreciated several bites of the chocolate and cherries thing. “Athos. What the fuck.”

“Sentiment echoed over here,” said Aramis, waving her own fork. “Assassinations. Milord. Conspiracies. Buckingham. Discuss.”

“Right,” said Athos, who had not actually touched the cake in front of him, but held on to his cup of coffee as if he planned to drown himself in it shortly. “This might be a long story.”

“I will actually kill you,” Porthos remarked.

Athos got to his feet and began to circle the room. Oh, this was bad. He always had trouble organising his thoughts when seated, and preferred to be active. If they weren’t careful, he might end up doing sword lunges in the middle of their impromptu cake party.

Porthos stood up, went to him, unfastened the Pilot’s Slice from his belt, then returned to the table. “Continue,” she suggested, and saw everyone around the table give a small sigh of relief that he was no longer armed.

Athos gave her a wounded look. “Fine. The Cardinal has hired Milord De Winter to assassinate the Duchess of Buckingham.” He glanced at Treville. “We’re going to need your official order to head to Valour at all speed and arrest the assassin in question, before he gets to her.”

Treville considered this – chewed and swallowed a mouthful of soft chocolate sponge. “With all due respect to the Duchess of Buckingham, she has her own security. Explain why I am going to allow four essential members of personnel – because it’s too much to fucking hope that you don’t all expect to go on this mercy dash together – to leave the battle zone and play bodyguard to a pampered aristocrat from a planet that plans to secede from the Solar System any minute, and has barely contributed any resources to the war effort?”

‘Why I am going to,’ Porthos noted, not ‘Why should I?’ Honestly, none of them deserved the trust that Treville placed upon them – and Athos least of all, when he had pissed away so many second chances.

“Because,” said Athos, circling the table full of Musketeers and cake as he arranged his thoughts, one foot in front of the other.

“If you could manage to explain without further maligning the reputation of her Eminence the Cardinal, that would help,” Treville added.

“Yes, I can see that,” Athos mused. “It’s a challenge, but I’ll try The Cardinal’s plan is remarkably well-intentioned. She blames Buckingham’s influence – and her recent well publicised breakdown and retreat from public affairs – for the lack of New Aristocrat enthusiasm towards this war. On Valour, anyway. She believes that if carefully managed, Buckingham’s death would work as a call to arms.”

“Interesting,” said Treville, not conveying whether this was a plan she already knew anything about. “Tell me again why I am against the scheme if it means more ships on our side?”

“Because,” said Athos. “What the Cardinal does not know is that her agent poses a terrible danger to the Crown and the Solar System. He cannot be trusted to follow her agenda, or to do anything that is in the interests of humankind.”

Treville finished her slice of the chocolate and cherries thing, and started on the orange and honey cake. “You think this De Winter is a spy for the enemy?”

“He is Sun-kissed,” Dana blurted, and then drew her eyes back down to her cake. “We know that much.”

“We know more than that,” said Athos, with a sympathetic glance shot briefly in Dana’s direction, though the kid didn’t look up in time to see it. “When not working for the Cardinal, the agent calling himself Milord has infiltrated the Valour government, has acted directly against Crown and Solar System, and – I believe, is wanted for acts of terrorism in Paris last year.”

Porthos almost swallowed her cake fork. “The Joyeux attacks? Athos, are you serious?”

“I knew it when I looked into his eyes tonight,” Athos said calmly, as if he was not talking about a man he had once loved and married. “We know he goes by pseudonyms like Slate and Winter in the course of his work – and the suspect we arrested for those crimes called himself Grey. I thought at the time there was something familiar about him, but could never quite place it… and, you might remember, he escaped custody after faking his own death in prison. A favourite trick.” And there, there was the bitterness Porthos had been waiting to hear, some hint that yes, this was personal for Athos.

She had been starting to worry that Athos was compartmentalising the situation a little too effectively. Now she had whole new things to worry about.

“You want us to thwart Milord in this scheme, hoping that the Cardinal will drop her protection of him, and we can bring him into custody permanently this time,” Dana said softly, lifting her face to Athos as if the two of them were the only ones in the room. “Save the Duchess of Buckingham, catch the spy.”

“And convince Buckingham to lead the New Aristocrats of Valour into this war,” Athos added. “That’s the carrot for you, boss. We’ll follow the Cardinal’s wishes and bring you ships of Valour to help with the siege – and we’ll do it without assassinating anyone.”

“An alien spy and a flotilla of imaginary ships,” Treville said dryly. “Is it my birthday, Athos?”

“Well, we did bring cake,” he teased.

The Amiral nodded heavily. “And does anyone wish to tell me why this man De Winter – who, regardless of the Cardinal’s protection, is an employee of the Valour government and thus has considerable resources of his own – is of particular interest to my Musketeers? How can you be so sure that he is a Sun-kissed spy, and why does it matter so damned much to you that he be stopped?”

There was a long pause in which Athos stopped pacing right by Dana, and stared at Treville as if she had shot a puppy in front of him.

“Milord personally requested to be freed from consequence of murdering D’Artagnan as a reward,” he said quietly. “He holds a grudge.”

Treville gave him a thin smile. “That sounds like the end of a story, Captain Athos, not the beginning.”

Dana took a deep breath, ready to take over her part of the conversation. “I should probably explain about Conrad Su…”

“No,” Athos said, his hand briefly brushing her shoulder. “No, shut up, D’Artagnan, it’s okay. It’s time she knew all of it.” He glanced at Porthos with a silent entreaty, and she got his message loud and clear.

“Come on, you two,” Porthos said brightly. “Let’s go take a turn about the deck and see how many aliens are shooting at the Bastion right now. It will be fun.” She hooked one arm around Aramis’s elbow and collected Dana on the way out, leaving Athos and Treville facing each other down across a cake-strewn meeting table.

“So,” said Athos, as the door spiralled open to let his friends out of what Porthos was already mentally dubbing The Embarrassment Zone. “Fun story, boss. I used to be married…”

After twenty minutes or so loitering outside Treville’s door, Dana D’Artagnan looked sick with worry. Or possibly she had eaten too much cake. “She won’t actually kill him and ditch the body out an airlock, will she she?”

“I’m pretty sure if she was ever going to do that to Athos, it would have been when he grew the beard,” Porthos assured her.

“She shouts at him a lot, but that’s how we know he’s her favourite,” agreed Aramis gravely.

This was mostly true, though Porthos had Athos as a favourite in the ‘most likely to be murdered by our boss’ sweepstake, so she wasn’t going to argue with either of them.

When Athos finally stepped out, he looked wrecked, as if Treville had been beating him around the head with her office furniture – there was none of the manic energy he had used to fuel their terrifying flight here, and the picnic he had inflicted upon the Amiral.

“So?” said Aramis, her eyebrows raised at the state of him. “Are we riding into the sunset to rescue you-know-who and arrest that-other-fellow?”

“Subtle,” Porthos complimented her.

“I thought so,” Aramis preened.

“No,” said Athos in a rough voice. “No, we’re not.” And he looked directly at Dana, as if this was only the start of the terrible news he had to break to her. “Treville’s not letting us go, and I can’t change her mind.”

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 46 – Drunken Weepy Jeep Song

Attention, Micronians! Robotech is back.

Episode 52 – Love Song



Never mind the war, we have important kissing business to sort out!

48 hours before the battle, it’s time for a whole bunch of personal matters to be resolved, including Nova Satori’s sudden high demand as a girlfriend, and the fragile romance between flying ace Marie Crystal and her total hound dog of a boyfriend, Private Sean Phillips.

(Though the narrator does drop in the interesting info-dump that the lack of protoculture is making the Robotech Masters’ bioroid technology more unreliable)

Emerson’s men – particularly young hothead Lieutenant Brown – are worried that he is being sent on a suicide mission because it’s politically expedient, but Emerson is being stupidly noble about the whole thing.

Dana tries to get Bowie to admit he has feelings about Emerson’s mission, but he laughs it off because he’s being a total boy about it.

Nova is informed that her job in the Global Military Police means that it’s up to them to find out who has been leaking information to the enemy. Does she even know that it was her? Only time will tell.

Meanwhile, Angie catches Zor going to visit Nova again – and suspects him of kissing up to her to get privileged information. Which is sort of sweet that he assumes that’s the only reason Zor would cheat on Dana.

Dana herself turns up in her role as Constant Zor Defender and shouts at Angie for playing detective. She doesn’t even get a smile from Zor for her trouble, as he goes off to see Nova instead.

Nova isn’t allowed to receive him as a guest, and her supervisor suggests that as a member of the 15th Zor might be someone to keep an eye on as a possible leak.

OH THE IRONY.

Dana is scruffed by Captain Komodo, a soldier about to go on the next offensive against the enemy. He is in love with Nova Satori and worried that he will die without her ever knowing. Dana is delighted at the chance of some matchmaking and the fact that this would distract Nova from Zor doesn’t come into it, of course…

So that evening after a tough day’s spy hunting (IRONY), Nova finds a beautiful bunch of flowers outside her door from a secret admirer. But of course, OF COURSE, Nova assumes the flowers are from Zor.

Secret admirer trope, people. Never do it. Never ever. It’s a terrible idea.

Turns out that the idea of Zor being in love with her is actually really squicky for Nova (good news, Dana!) who freaks out and starts treating him awkwardly, especially once she realises that she gave him information that she should not have done.

It’s even worse, because in all her distraction over the personal issues, she screwed up the file of Lieutenant Brown, which made it look like he might be the spy. She corrects and reports the mistake, but it’s too late for Brown who has now been left out of the mission.

He gently lets her know that it might be for the best – as all the officers on this mission have been chosen for their loyalty to Emerson, possibly to wipe them all out. He’s grateful for her mistake, if it means that at least one of Emerson’s men gets out alive.

Dana is surprised to see Nova and Brown talking intimately at sunset, and promptly puts her foot in her mouth by saying: “Boy she’s really playing the field.”

Komodo is devastated.

Marie dresses up in a fabulous dress to show off for Sean. She’s ridiculously in love now that she’s managed to suspend her annoyance at him, and he’s managed to avoid being slutty with other girls for at least a week or so. She’s even feeling confident enough to ask Dana, marching past with an armful of roses for Operation Secret Admirer, donate her a flower to complete the look.

Dana is cranky at Marie’s blissful smugness and refuses on the grounds that Sean should be the one buying her flowers.

Bowie’s love affair is mostly with his piano as he thinks angsty thoughts about his godfather, and Musica. Emerson parks nearby to hear Bowie’s piano playing for a little while before returning to his quarters. Awww.

Nova is annoyed at the second Secret Admirer delivery, mostly because she still thinks it’s Zor. But she’s not having the worst night – that honour goes to Marie who has been stood up in a fancy restaurant in her killer dress.

Sean is not quite that much of a jerk – he’s actually waiting in the wings and watching her, about to make his entrance. But just as he prepares to show her he’s there, he is pounced on by a random blonde who is a former flame and won’t take no for an answer.

SEAN’S ANTI-PICKUP-LINE: You’ve got to stop following me, it’s degrading.

As Sean tries to extricate himself from the pushy girl, Marie sees them together and gets the wrong idea. It isn’t helped when the blonde lays a smooch on him. Marie throws herself at Sean and snogs the hell out of him in retaliation, then smacks him around the face and storms off, leaving her pretty shoes behind.

Dana spots Nova having a quiet moment in a darkened carpark and thinks this is an appropriate time to send Captain Komodo over to make his move. Nova promptly punches him because she thinks he is Zor, and Komodo runs off crying.

Confused, Nova finds Dana and only fails to find out what the hell is going on because an out of control military vehicle is reported to her. Hero-style, Nova leaps on her hover bike and takes off. Dana commandeers Lieutenant Brown and his jeep to follow her – and it turns out all of them are pursuing a devastated Marie Crystal, dressed up to the nines and driving erratically through the streets in a military jeep.

DRUNKEN GIRLY CHASE SCENE.

Marie is only prevented from driving off a cliff by some quick driving moves from Brown, who cuts her off. They pick her out of the car, drunk and sobbing – a complete mess. It’s Brown who suggests that it would be bad for morale if the hero of the Air Corp was found in this state, and he gently removes Marie from the jeep, then drives off in it himself, taking the blame – after all, it’s pretty understandable that he might want to blow off some steam after missing out on the mission, and he’ll probably only get a couple of days in the brig.

Nova is stunned by his choice, and very impressed.

On the morning of the mission, Dana tries to apologise to Komodo, but Nova turns up to politely suggest that he survives the mission. He’s delighted with that. We never see him again.

Sean meanwhile makes an embarrassing scene trying noisily to stop a stony-faced Marie getting on the transport for the mission, and has to be physically held back by Angelo.

ANGIE: Be a man for heaven’s sake! She’s got more important things on her mind, stupid.

Bowie plays out the episode, as the ships take off into orbit, with some serious music of pain. It’s tough to be left behind.

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 – Silk

Title: Silk

Writer: Robbie Thompson

Artist: Stacey Lee

The Buzz: Like Spider-Gwen, Silk is a new female character who emerged from the recent massive Spiderverse crossover, now given her solo title. A combination of vivid art and the excitement at a new high profile Asian-American superhero has added to the buzz.

All You Need To Know: Cindy Moon was bitten by the same radioactive spider that bit Peter Parker, then locked in a bunker for ten years because reasons. Now she’s out and after all that multiverse-hopping of the Spiderverse event, she’s ready to settle down and have a life of her own – but where to start? (And yes the premise is very similar to the Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt but with superpowers)

Story: Cindy has set herself up with a reporting job, not because she’s devoted to new media (she doesn’t even know what Twitter is, which earns her the nickname ‘Analog’ from J. Jonah Jameson) but because she wants to use the company resources to find her family, who disappeared shortly after she went into the bunker. As superhero Silk she has acquired her first nemesis, is working on her witty quips, and sharing the occasional angsty conversation with her sort-of-mentor and fellow member of the spider bite club, Peter Parker.

Trying to fit into the real world is hard work when you’ve spent ten years in the dark – Cindy is struggling with how different her spideysilk-sense powers are now she’s surrounded by people, and her brain-to-mouth filter is almost completely absent, which is good news for the work friends she accidentally matchmakes because she has no patience with UST. The general tone of the comic is snarky and fun with a side order of genuine feeling, as might be expected from a writer primarily known for his work on TV show Supernatural (which I’ve only recently started watching, shut up, it’s retro now).

Art: I haven’t come across Stacey Lee’s work before but this is great work, following the trend away from cheesecake and old school musclefests, and towards a more indie, quirky style where faces are full of character and you can actually tell the difference between the lady characters beyond their hair colour. I’m reminded of David Aja and Annie Wu’s work on Hawkeye, Adrian Alphona on Ms Marvel and the recent Babs Tarr revamp of DC’s Batgirl.

But What Did I Miss?: If you haven’t read Spiderverse then… well, that. Apparently it was big. I’ve only read an issue or two of that event (though I am getting more and more invested in catching up now thanks to Cindy, Jessica and Gwen) and I’ve also been introduced to Silk through a couple of issues of the new Spider-Woman solo series, but I didn’t really get a feel for the character until this issue which does a great job in establishing who the protagonist is, where she comes from, and where she’s heading. No homework required, though you might be missing some nuance if this is your first ever Spidey comic.



Would Read Issue 2?: Yep, queue it up for me!

Read it if you Liked: Spider-Gwen, Ms Marvel, Ultimate Spider-Man

PREVIOUS ISSUE #1 POSTS

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

Musketeer Space Part 47: Athos in the Walls

It’s Musketeer Day! I can’t believe this is all going to be over by August – but Wednesday will always be Musketeer Day.

Speaking of Musketeers (when am I not??) don’t forget to check out the latest Musketeer Media Monday essay, All the Musketeer Ladies (2015) which is mostly about how the latest season of Musketeers treated the female characters, while the boys were looking pretty in leather.

I am a little dismissive about the boys in that essay. Athos had at least one and half good episodes, and there was that bit where D’Artagnan took his bandanna off which made Tumblr collectively swoon for at least a fortnight, but the most interesting thing I have to say about the men in this season is: not enough Treville, not enough Porthos, and I want to throw things at Aramis, like all the time. The serial killing astrologer episode was pretty amazing, though, and the finale was great.

Never mind those Musketeers, get yourself into space to play with my Musketeers!

Start reading Musketeer Space from Part 1

Missed the last installment? Track back to Part 46

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

Main Page & Table of Contents

PREVIOUSLY IN MUSKETEER SPACE: Olivier Armand d’Auteville, the Comte de la Fere of a backwater county on the planet Valour walked out on his old life thanks to a tragic backstory, and ended up drunk on a mountain where he was rescued by two Musketeers and whisked away in Paris to start again as the Musketeer Athos, AKA Pistachio Grumpyface. He later befriended a 20 year old Gascon wannabe pilot, D’Artagnan, who shares his love of barfights and his dislike of talking about feelings.

Athos recently discovered that his dead husband is rather less dead than previously believed, and also an intergalactic assassin. Also, there’s a war on right now between the Solar System and the Sun-kissed. The Musketeers’ commander, Amiral Treville, needs to be debriefed about the current political relevant of Athos’ tragic backstory and D’Artagnan’s recent near-death experience. That’s why they’re in a nightclub. Actually, they’re in a nightclub because letting Aramis choose the rendezvous spot is always a bad idea.

NOW READ ON:

Chapter 47: Athos in the Walls

Dovecote Red was Athos’ idea of hell. He had never been one for nightclubs, all that noise and movement. Even in his university days, he had not been the one who dragged them out to ‘paint the town,’ it had been…

But no, he would not think of Auden here and now. He had a mission.

Athos liked having a mission. The best thing about being on duty as a Musketeer was always having a straightforward task to achieve, even if it was as simple as ‘fly in a straight line from Station A to Satellite B’ or ‘keep the royal family alive during a public appearance.’

Athos liked being given orders, and he lived in a constant state of background dread that Treville would someday make one allowance too many for his ridiculous extracurricular shenanigans, and put him in a position where he was the one giving the orders.

That possibility was far too close to his former self – the young Count who bore too much responsibility on his shoulders, and fucked up his life so thoroughly that there was nothing but ash and rubble left behind.

The best thing about a war, as far as Athos was concerned, was that you were technically on duty all the time. You had a constant purpose.

Tonight, he could see his mission parameters as clearly as if Treville had written them out for him in calligraphed longhand on the back of his arm.

His mission was to find out who Cardinal Richelieu was meeting in an upstairs room of this dive of a nightclub. His duty was to keep his friends safe.

“Wait here for Treville,” he said abruptly. “I won’t be long.” And before Aramis or Porthos or D’Artagnan could protest, he was out the door and striding through that godawful club.

A dark-eyed boy with silver eyeliner – too damn young for Athos, that was for sure – lurched out of the noise and the lights, covered in glitter. “I like your jacket,” he said, eyeing Athos up and down.

All his instincts told him to brush this kid off before he got too close – Athos’ usual method of getting laid involved either arguments or swordplay, and he saved it for opponents who didn’t expect him to smile or flirt. He definitely drew the line at flirting with anyone D’Artagnan’s age (possibly younger, God, it was hard to tell under all that glitter).

But this was a mission, and he’d look less suspicious going upstairs if he had company. Athos offered the easy, charming smile he had so recently been practicing on the Cardinal herself. The d’Autevielle smile, a family heirloom he usually kept buried.

“Do you want it?” he asked the young man, crowding into his space and sliding off the jacket to wrap it around his shoulders. “It’s yours.”

Huh. Flirting was apparently easier than picking fights. That was a thought to be examined at a later date.

Ten minutes later, Athos were upstairs with a keycard, arm slung around the glittery boy. It hadn’t taken much to convince the club manager – who had served with Treville in the previous war – to hire him a room near (but not suspiciously close) to the Cardinal’s rendezvous.

It had been embarrassingly easy to convince the beautiful young man who now owned Athos’ Musketeer jacket to come upstairs with him. Charm was obviously a dangerous tool, best only cracked out for emergencies.

The Cardinal’s honour guard were positioned along the way, two of them at the top of the stairs, two more in the corridor and the last pair playing cards outside the hired room. None of them paid much attention to the glitter-smeared couple who went past, though Athos was pretty sure at least one of the Sabres gave him a wink, which was faintly disturbing.

Inside their own room, Athos peeled the young man off him and made for the wall vents. He’d spent a few nights in this club years ago, on a protection detail for the Regent’s hen party, and had pulled at least three would-be assassins out of the walls.

Dovecote Red had terrible lighting, awful music and a drinks menu that priced itself far too highly, but its ventilation system was spacious and comfortable.

Athos had almost forgotten his glitter-strewn companion, but the boy threw himself on the bed, watching him with a calculating gaze. “I’m guessing, this is a spy thing rather than a hookup thing, yeah?”

Couldn’t argue that one, with his hands already busy removing the grate. “Sorry,” said Athos half-heartedly. “There’s a war on,” he added.

“Doesn’t bother me, mate, makes for a better story tomorrow,” the boy smirked. “I get to keep the jacket, right?”

Athos rolled his eyes, and hauled himself physically up into the vent. It was more difficult than it had been three years ago. Maybe it really was time to be cutting down on the wine. “Yes,” he drawled. “You can keep the jacket.”

It took a little time to get his bearings, but Athos made good time crawling down towards the room where the Cardinal and her guest were meeting.

All he could hope was that her appointment was a spy thing and not a hookup thing, or he had wasted everyone’s time.

“… Seems to me that your time on Paris Satellite has been entirely wasted.” The Cardinal’s voice came clearly through the vent. Athos stopped moving. She sounded angry. “The Marquise de Wardes continued her loyalist sympathies entirely without your involvement – and meanwhile, the Valour government has all but washed their hands of us. What exactly was the point in making it possible for my own agent to take such an influential position as Secretary for the Interior if you wield so little of that influence in my favour?”

Athos had been quietly shuffling forward to try to catch a glimpse of who else was in the room, but he stilled when he heard ‘Secretary for the Interior,’ because that answered his question in the worst possible way.

Milord. He must think of him as Milord, because if he even began to think of that man as Auden d’Autevielle, he would not be able to get through this.



A warm mouth on his neck, a sly smile in the sunlight, bare feet padding across the ancient floors of the house of his ancestors…

Blood, so much blood spilling out across the grass.

“Your Eminence,” said a patient, familiar voice that chilled Athos to the vein, “There is a fine line between influence and the ability to steer an entire planetary policy in the opposite direction.”

Athos leaned his head against the cool wall and listened to the voice, to the inflection of every word. He had known about this for so long, ever since Dana spilled her secret to him, but there was a difference between believing it, and hearing it with his own ears.

Not dead. I didn’t kill you. How are you still alive?



“It seems to me that your so-called influence has been entirely toxic!” the Cardinal exclaimed. “First Minister Beautru was previouslyneutral on the matter of Valour independence, and never once failed to commit troops and ships to the Crown when requested.”

Milord scoffed. “First Minister Beautru is four months away from retirement after three terms of inactivity, and his so-called Fleet is entirely controlled by the various Dukes, Counts and other New Aristocrats who fund the various regiments. They all see Beautru as a relic of the past, and take their cues entirely from the electoral candidates. While the Marquise de Wardes has indeed managed to spark some of the younger New Aristocrats to her royalist sympathies, the most powerful tastemaker with the set who actually own military resources is still the Duke of Buckingham with her Independence Faction.”

Ugh, politics. Valour politics, no less. Athos had gone to a lot of trouble to ensure he never again had to care about all this New Aristocrat posturing bullshit. And now he had to listen to it poured forth to him in his dead husband’s voice?

“Factions or not, Buckingham and the rest of them are obliged to put ships into the air and join this war,” the Cardinal hissed, all but vibrating with fury.

“True enough,” said Milord, sounding arch and amused. Did nothing phase the man? “The defence of our solar system is a trending topic, and I might well have been able to convince the charming Buck to join the party as a final gift to the Crown before she rips Valour out of the alliance. Unfortunately, she has spent the last couple of months immersed in the world’s longest bender, followed by several stints in rehab. Hardly a development that I could have predicted, or prevented. In Buck’s absence from the planet’s social media hubs, it has been assumed that she doesn’t give a damn about the war against the Sun-kissed, and therefore the rest of the New Aristocrats don’t have to either.”

Cardinal Richelieu was obviously unimpressed. “I am hearing excuses, Milord, when I want solutions. I want at least fifty new ships at the siege by the end of the week, and I want Valour to be the one who provides them.”

“We have two obvious options with which to proceed,” Milord said, sounding delightd by the challenge. “Either the Duchess of Buckingham must be convinced to lead an armada to war – or the other New Aristocrats must be inspired to do so, by some dramatic event. Nothing like a tragedy to bring people together, don’t you think?”

Athos sucked a breath in. He had known for years that his husband was a murderer and a criminal – not to mention an alien spy – but was he really about to hear him plot a murder?

“Now you’re thinking creatively,” said the Cardinal, positively delighted. “Given all the ridiculous antics with the Prince Consort last year, the Duchess of Buckingham has proved herself a diplomatic liability.”

“Are you asking me to become your assassin, your Eminence?” God, it actually sounded like Milord was flirting with the woman – like a cat bringing a dead mouse to his mistress. Athos wanted to throw up, but this was hardly the most convenient place for it.

“I ask you to use your own judgement,” the Cardinal said.

She couldn’t know, then. Athos was not sure whether to be relieved or not by this information, but it was clear that Cardinal Richelieu was working with the military needs of the Crown and Solar System as her main priority. She did not know that the agent she had hired was one of the Sun-kissed himself.

She couldn’t know, or she would never give him this opportunity to control the reinforcements for the United Fleet.

“I would not presume to use my own judgement, your Eminence,” said Milord – Auden – Milord, a sharpness edging into his voice. “For such a high profile incident, I shall require protection to ensure I don’t find myself reclassified as ‘a diplomatic liability’ at any time in the future.”

A long pause, after which the Cardinal spoke as if the words were being physically dragged from her. “You might as well tell me exactly what you have in mind, so that we do not speak at cross purposes.”

“I am as you know a devout follower of the Church of All, your Eminence,” said Milord. “I’d like you to sign a contract.”

Another long pause, in which Athos heard his own breathing far too loudly in his ears.

“Milord De Winter,” said the Cardinal finally, on the verge of laughter. “Do you really think it would be appropriate for me to sign a contract ordering the assassination of a public figure and highly popular New Aristocrat?”

“It doesn’t have to be that specific,” said Milord, his own voice dancing as it became clear that he was going to get exactly what he wanted. “But I do require your full protection, should I be caught. A sealed stud declaring that the bearer has done whatever they have done in your name and for the good of the Solar System – that should be enough.”

“Only that?” the Cardinal said. She did laugh this time, though it was a sound without humour in it. “Why, you could commit any murder you liked and be assured of a pardon.”

“Yes,” purred the man that Athos had once loved more than life itself. “I could, couldn’t I? I think I’ll start with Dana D’Artagnan.”

It was not enough. Not enough to hear that voice, to know for certain that Milord and the Cardinal were working together again, and plotting D’Artagnan’s death, damn it all. No, it was not enough to have the information.

I will stop you. I will end you.

When Athos returned to the hired room, the boy was gone, leaving only a rumpled bedcover and a pillow covered in a fine film of glitter. That saved him from one potentially awkward conversation, at least.

Athos replaced the vent, washed dust from his hands and face, then checked his messages. There were a lot of emoticons on his comms stud from Porthos and Aramis, mostly conveying surprise, impatience, concern, and their mutual belief that he was a dickhead.

From Dana D’Artagnan, he only had a single message: ??

Athos typed ‘a little longer’ to all three of them, then stepped out into the corridor just in time to see the back of the Cardinal and her guards as she swept out of the premises. There was no sign of Milord.

Athos stopped thinking. He didn’t quite black out, but one moment he was standing in the corridor, considering what to do next, and then he was standing before the other door, one hand raised and the sound of his knock still in his ears.

They were doing this, then. Good to know.

His husband opened the door.

There were no semantics in this moment to protect them from the situation. Athos could no longer pretend that he was facing political mastermind and murderous secret agent Milord De Winter, when the tired and sullen man with the silver hair standing before him was quite obviously the snarky troublemaker he had fallen in love with as a student.

He had one moment, one breath in and out to actually feel glad about it, in a terrible sort of way. Then the anger took over, burning a hole through his chest and propelling him forward, into the room before Auden could shut him out.

“You’re here,” his husband said, falling back with his eyes wide and troubled. “Olivier…”

“That’s not my name,” Athos said in a harsh snap. “And believe me, I know the names you’re going by these days, Milord De Winter.” Slate. Perhaps even…hell, yes. Grey, too. He had not put it together before now, but he remembered an oddly compelling, quiet man in service to the Duchess of Buckingham when she first visited Paris as Ambassador as far back as Joyeux. Now that he was standing in the same room as his husband, Athos knew why it was that he had been drawn to that man. The face had been different… but this face, this was so close to his own Auden that it was chilling. Why would a shapechanger risk holding on to the face of a dead man? So many questions.

Milord arched his neck and his startled response bled away, leaving behind a more professional smoothness. “Isn’t it lovely to catch up with old friends,” he said, closing the door behind Athos with a click. “Shall I order in coffee, so we can gossip about the good old days?”

Auden had always been good at turning on that slick, artificial charm. He had used it on professors, on girls trying to flirt with him, on authority figures and members of the close-minded aristocracy who disapproved of their union. He had never before worn his false face at Athos when they were alone together.

And wasn’t that a colossal joke? Because he knew now that all of it had been a false face, every second of it, but Athos kept forgetting that, because the memories blurred together between what he knew now, and what little he had known then.

Husband, criminal, traitor, assassin.



“Are you a devil, then? You’re supposed to be dead.” Athos meant it to be threatening, he did, but instead it came out as something else – half sad, half frustrated. “Why aren’t you dead?”

“That’s rich, coming from you,” snarled Milord. “There’s a grave marker on Valour with the Count de la Fere’s name on it. The land was given up to the Crown years ago.”

“Yes,” said Athos. “But the difference is, I actually remember killing you.”

Milord smiled, and it hurt Athos’ stomach to see that familiar twist of his pretty mouth. “Surprise,” he said, deadpan.

Athos had to seize control of the conversation. It was ridiculous that one person could unnerve him, could bring all the old insecurities pounding back into his head. “My condolences,” he drawled after gathering his dignity around him like a coat. “On the death of your most recent spouse. Delia De Winter, wasn’t it? Was your wife aware that you were still contracted to me when you put the ring on her finger?”

Milord smiled unpleasantly, a new smile Athos had never seen before – something, at least, that did not remind him of their old life together. “Death ended that contract, sweetness.”

“You didn’t die,” Athos ground between his teeth.

“You have no idea what I did,” his husband retaliated. “What I have done.”

That, at least, made Athos laugh. “You’d be surprised at how much I know. You have been creeping back and forth from Paris for months, running errands for the Cardinal. Stealing diamonds, drugging the Duchess of Buckingham, kidnapping Conrad Su, and oh yes, attempting to poison Dana D’Artagnan. Not to mention, five minutes ago, accepting a commission to assassinate a member of the New Aristocracy peerage, but only in exchange for the Cardinal turning a blind eye to a murder of your own. Did you think I wasn’t paying attention?”

Milord’s eyes only widened slightly, as the list – barely a footnote, surely, in comparison to all the rest – of his crimes spilled out from Athos’ mouth. “And you called me a devil,” he said finally, with a tilt of his head. “I rather think you are one.”

“Perhaps,” said Athos. He needed to pace, needed to punch something, needed a sword in one hand and a drink in another. He held himself frighteningly still because if he started to move, they would be fighting, and he would get none of the answers he needed from this man. “Is your ego so fragile that you need to murder children out of revenge for a spoiled plot or two?”

Milord laughed at that, and it was a relief that it didn’t sound like Auden’s laugh at all – it was bright and cold and bitter, and Athos’ husband had been all of those things at one time or another, but he had not laughed like this. “Dana D’Artagnan was a full-grown woman when I took her to my bed. Would you like details?”

“She’s barely twenty,” Athos ground out. “I don’t give a damn about your seductions, but if you try again to harm her, there will not be enough pieces of you left to stage a second miraculous return from the grave.”

Milord leaned back in his chair, humming beneath his breath. “It’s killing you, isn’t it, that you don’t know how I escaped your murder?”

“It was an execution,” Athos replied coldly.

“Tell yourself that, sweetness, if it helps you sleep at night.” Milord’s grey eyes glittered fiercely. “You severed my head from my neck, and you still couldn’t put me down. It’s eating you up inside.”

The only known method for killing one of the Sun-kissed is to sever his head from his body, and burn them both. I did that, it nearly killed me in turn to do it, but I did. What did I do wrong?

Athos threw his arms up in the air, finally losing the temper he had been forcing down for this entire conversation. “Why are you here? Why are you pissing about with the Cardinal’s plots to increase Crown troops, of all things? Shouldn’t you be with your friends on the other side of the war, ready and aiming to shoot us out of the skies? Or are you still spying on us for them?”

“I have no friends,” said Milord, unblinking. “I am not who you think I am. I never was.”

Athos stepped towards him. They were an arm’s length apart. Then a hand’s span. He stopped with barely an inch between their knees, looking down at the seated figure. Milord tipped his head up to maintain eye contact, silver hair falling back over his shoulders. “The grey wall. The alien ships. Your people are at war with ours.”

“I never denied that,” Milord whispered. “But you are assuming a lot, to think that I am working for them.”

It was a lie. Of course it was a lie. Athos slid the arc ray from his belt and pointed it at his husband’s face at close range.

“If you have no loyalty to your people,” he said, allowing a sense of dangerous calm to flood through his body. “Then all you have to bargain for is your own safety. Believe me, I want to shoot you now. Shall we find out how many methods of execution you really are immune from?”

Milord’s eyes flickered, but only a little. “I don’t fear you, sweetness.”

Another lie.

“Give me the stud,” Athos said conversationally. This was an order he was more than comfortable to make.

“What?” Milord was genuinely surprised at that, his eyes still fixed on the weapon. He pulled his gaze away with some difficulty to look Athos in the face instead.

“The sealed stud that the Cardinal gave to you,” Athos elaborated. “I want it.”

Milord hesitated. Athos pressed the barrel of the arc-ray directly between his eyes. The alien spy made a frustrated sound and held out his wrist.

There were a dozen or more studs along the pale skin near the vein (did Sun-kissed even have blood in their veins? There had been so much when Athos severed his head from his body, but perhaps that was a trick too). The one from the Cardinal was obvious – a flat bead of platinum with a red fleur-de-lis stamped into it. Athos peeled it from Milord’s wrist, and let it burrow into his own, before activating it with a finger swipe.

Words glowed in the air above his arm:

It is by my orders and for the good of Crown and Solar System that the bearer of this stud has done what he has done.

Cardinal Richelieu, timestamp 987398Red, identity sealed.

Athos nodded, and stepped away from Milord. “Bite if you can, viper. But you will face judgement for your crimes, just like everyone else in this damned war.”

He had more to say, but every word that wanted to come out of his mouth was too much, would give away information he could not afford to share.

Having the last word was enough for now, because he had realised five minutes ago that he was not capable of killing his husband for a second time, and it was important he not make that weakness too obvious.

Athos, formerly Olivier d’Auteville, the Count de la Fere, left the seedy hotel room and walked away from Milord De Winter without looking back.

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.

All the Musketeer Ladies (2015)

So, last year I launched my Musketeer Media Monday series, writing happy snarky essays about Musketeer movies and other media properties (but mostly movies) and then the BBC TV series came out, and blew my mind.

Part of what I love about the BBC series is that it’s not a straight adaptation at all, nor does it try to be – it works with the spirit of the swashbuckling original text, and the essence of the characters, to create a wild alternate universe in which the historical French Court and the Wild West come together to make beautiful leather-clad babies.

That sounded less weird before I typed the actual words.

So now the second season is done, and I have so many feelings about it, but instead of doing an episode-by-episode breakdown like last time (which turned into THREE essays) I wanted to talk about the characters who were really the centrepiece of this particular season of television: Queen Anne, Constance Bonacieux and Milady De Winter.

You might have been watching a show about four handsome fellows in leather and three hats (D’Artagnan still doesn’t have a hat), but I was watching a show about interesting, complex women who will probably stab you.

You can read my previous BBC Musketeers reviews here:

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)

This essay will completely spoil Season 1 & 2. Don’t say I didn’t warn you. Watch it first if that stuff matters to your brain.

At the end of Season 1, all three women were central to the resolution of the story. Cardinal Richelieu had been her main antagonist for most of the season, and it was Queen Anne herself who got to wield the final victory blow against him, not only because she could bear witness to his crimes, but because her pregnancy now ensured that the King would never believe the Cardinal’s word over her own.

The final episode also saw Milady come into her own as the Big Bad: turning D’Artagnan against his brother Musketeers, and apparently breaking the sanity of her former husband, Athos. When she discovered that her apparent victory over the Musketeers was actually an elaborate sting operation, she already had her revenge in play, having kidnapped D’Artagnan’s brave and resourceful mistress Constance.

Given the canon ending for both these characters, the final showdown was incredible tense to watch, and it was completely believable that one or both of them would be killed, as women generally are in unfluffy adaptations of The Three Musketeers.

Letting Constance live was a triumph, but even better was letting Milady live – Athos taking it upon himself to exile her (in the book, he presumed to re-execute her without higher orders). At the time, I honestly couldn’t imagine how the BBC version were going to bring Milady back into the show with any credibility.

But then along came 2015! And to my pleased surprise, the three female leads of The Musketeers had even more substantial roles than they had in Season 1.

CONSTANCE BONACIEUX

Season 1 Constance was an anomaly in the traditions of the character: she’s a complex and interesting character in the book, and movies generally remove one or several layers of complexity. I get particularly annoyed when films take away the more interesting parts of her character – that she is D’Artagnan’s married landlady not an ingenue, that she is an active participant in palace politics, and that she knows more than D’Artagnan about what the hell is going on at all times. In the BBC series, they at least made a more unusual creative choice in de-layering Constance, keeping the married landlady aspect and leaving out the part where she was the Queen’s lady-in-waiting, which worked surprisingly well…

But the thing I wanted most for Season 2 was for Constance to step up and take her place in the Palace – and oh, it happened, and it was joyous. In amongst all the terrible, irritating and creeptastic things that happened in this season (yes Aramis, Louis and Rochefort, I am looking at all of you and judging you very harshly) the deep friendship between Anne and Constance was a thing of beauty.

This also allowed us to see Constance grow as a person – while she originally got the position because of her husband’s social climbing ways, she soon realised it was a chance to distance herself from her unhappy marriage, and several episodes explored how she was learning to trust her own instincts and intelligence without input from the men in her life. The one where she kidnapped the Dauphin to steam his little lungs in the laundry, saving his life at risk to her own after the male doctor failed to cure the boy with “modern medicine” was particularly good in this regard.

The development of Constance’s romance with D’Artagnan was frustrating and a lot less enjoyable than it had been in Season 1 – Constance had an amazingly powerful scene in the first episode where she got to lecture D’Artagnan about how his whole romantic ‘follow your heart and to hell with the consequences’ philosophy was so much easier for him as a man than for her as a woman. Her choice to stay with her husband was about survival, not just pragmatism or a misplaced sense of sympathy, and D’Artagnan never accepted her point of view. I know I’m not the only one who got cross at him because of that.

They both spent a lot of the rest of the season moping about each other, and I was somewhat disappointed that Constance came around to his ‘damn the consequences’ way of thinking largely because of his big brown eyes. Which, admittedly, are very pretty. Also, while I was happy to see the loathsome Bonancieux elbowed out of the way, having him conveniently killed by a female assassin (largely as a random gift because she shipped Constagnan) was a little too CONVENIENT. Constance’s resistance falling back into D’Artagnan’s arms right away – tying herself to a moneyless if pretty young Musketeer with few prospects for advancement immediately after escaping her prison of a marriage – was portrayed in the narrative as her being needlessly guilty and difficult as opposed to SENSIBLE CAUTION.

Despite my frustrations with her love life, Constance’s attachment the Queen quickly became her most important friendship in the show, and the relationship that provided the most tension and interest. (Hello, femmeslash fandom, come on in, the water’s fine) Anne’s delight and vicarious enjoyment of Constance’s romance with D’Artagnan went a long way to redeeming it for me – and it was so good to see these two women in precarious positions supporting each other. At a time when Constance did not dare choose D’Artagnan or her own desires over the needs of her worthless husband, she never hesitated to put the Queen before him. She stood up to Rochefort, she risked her reputation to save the baby, and she was unflinchingly loyal as well as growing in confidence and style as a lady of the court.

Then the finale approached, and we got to see exactly how brave Constance was. I loved that so much of her story had nothing to do with her romance at all – she was imprisoned and nearly executed because of the political and friendship choices she had made, to protect Anne and the Dauphin, not because she had been hanging out with handsome Musketeers.

And oh, she was so brave. To balance her traumatic near-execution experience (because women in this show are dealt fewer damsel cards than you might expect), Constance argued herself into to riding along with the boys on their ‘beat Rochefort’ mission. She wore a fabulous trouser outfit, and threatened a Spanish spymaster with a sword. When he mocked the menfolk for letting a woman fight their battles for them, Constance replied:

“Perhaps I bring men to fight mine.”

The wedding at the end felt far more like it was Constance’s reward than D’Artagnan’s (though obviously he is stupidly lucky to have her) because she worked so much harder than anyone else this season, for her own happiness. Then they apparently celebrated by having honeymoon sex in Treville’s office before she had to send her new husband off to war. (Seriously, watch that scene, it totally implies that’s where they spent their wedding ‘afternoon’)

MILADY DE WINTER

Milady had run through her entire plot in Season 1 – she was the Cardinal’s spy and assassin, she seduced D’Artagnan (and was seduced in return), and her entire ‘My Husband Executed Me And All I Got Was This Lousy Neck Scar’ backstory was finally revealed to everyone including Athos himself.

All that remained, after Constance was rescued from her clutches, was for Milady to be executed for a second time – and instead, Athos showed mercy. They both got closure to their awful, tragic love story.

And yet…

Milady came back, not as the same vengeful assassin in fabulous frocks, but as a clever criminal somewhat humbled by circumstance and never one to miss an opportunity. When D’Artagnan and a disguised King Louis were accidentally delivered to her in chains during a slaving operation, she took the opportunity to rescue them, and to exchange the resulting brownie points for a chance to worm her way into the King’s bed.

It was excruciating to watch her affair with Louis – not just because of Queen Anne’s public humiliation and the grinding-teeth of the Musketeers (especially Athos) who had to silently endure her rise in society. They knew about her criminal past, but knowing Louis’ habit of shooting the messenger, they didn’t dare speak up while she was the new favourite.

Sadly, Milady herself did not realise quite how unreliable Louis was as an ally until it was too late. The episode “Through a Glass Darkly” was a magnificent turning point for her, as the whole court was abducted by a psycho astronomer puppeteer (you kind of had to be there) and she used her cleverness and bravery to escape and bring help.

Once again, Milady had an opportunity to say to hell with them all and disappear, and instead chose the riskier option of playing the hero. This time, the not only had to swallow her pride and team up with Treville and Athos for the rescue (IN TROUSERS, MAKE MILADY A MUSKETEER IN SEASON 3 PLEASE AND THANK YOU), but she kicked serious arse in doing it – because with the Cardinal dead, she’s always the most ruthless person in the room.

The King’s subsequent betrayal, taking out his embarrassment on her and stripping her of all the status she had earned as his mistress, was a devastating blow to Milady, and yet she still didn’t give up on Paris.

An obvious character development for her this season would have been for she and Rochefort to pair up and work as a devastating team as they have in nearly every film version of The Three Musketeers ever. Instead, she spotted his ingrained vileness and misogyny for what it was and refused to have a bar of him, offering him on a plate to the Musketeers instead – and that meant more and more instances of Milady helping Athos and his friends, often for no reward despite her very reasonable requests to be paid, goddamn it, it’s all very well to claim ‘I do it for France’ when you’re drawing a wage.

She’s not doing this shit for the exposure, Athos, stop trying to take advantage of her.

Anyway, Milady as the reluctant ally of the Musketeers – who still shoots whoever she likes, mocks their pompousness (someone has to, even if it gave Porthos less to do this season), and admits freely to past assassinations – is my favourite iteration of the character, and I would have adored it if Treville offered her a job instead of her final storyline being about whether or not she and Athos might be happy together outside France (duh, he’s never going to leave the Musketeers, war or no war).

Oh and she even got her own nemesis in Catherine, the awesome shooty woman from Athos and his brother’s past, who turned out to be completely crazycakes and only served to make Milady even more compelling – whether Catherine was trying to re-engineer Milady’s execution, or pointing out the elephant in the room (and in the secret cupboard, and up against a wall or two) which was that Athos and Milady were still hot for each other.

CATHERINE (to Athos): It’s written all over your face. You’re still in love with her.

MILADY: My god, does she never stop talking?

Season 3 had better bring Milady back either to work for Treville or the Queen, that’s all I’m saying. There’s a war on, after all…

QUEEN ANNE

After Anne’s triumph at the end of Season 1, I honestly didn’t think that so much of Season 2 would be devoted to the consequences of her affair with Aramis and her subsequent pregnancy. And yet… this season was All About Anne. (I choose to believe this because so much of the Aramis side of this plot was enraging and forgettable)

Rochefort is usually portrayed as a minion of the Cardinal, so bringing him in (played by a charismatically creepy and highly punchable Marc Warren) as a replacement for the main political antagonist felt like an odd narrative choice, at first.

It became clear very quickly that his character had taken on some of the less savoury aspects of the book Cardinal – namely, a disturbing sexual obsession with Anne, and a determination to come between the King and the Queen. It went much further than that, with Rochefort taking on all the cliche but highly believable qualities of a Nice Guy™ who believes he has been Friend Zoned™ and thus turns into a fucking psychopath.

It doesn’t help that Aramis, who was a lively and adorable character in Season 1, spent the first half of Season 2 moping about the baby son he can never acknowledge (including shagging the governess so he could hang out with the Dauphin, goddamn it, Aramis) and how his love affair with the Queen had no future (because that’s what happens when you sleep with the QUEEN, Aramis), while King Louis himself, without the stabilising effect of the Cardinal, mades a series of terrible life choises including parading Milady around Court as his new favourite mistress (though honestly that’s not as bad as the choice he made to force D’Artagnan to take him to a genuine tavern to hang out with the little people, where they were promptly press-ganged by slavers).

The lack of the Cardinal is a tangible though mostly unspoken plot thread throughout this season – Captain Treville falls apart as he realises that the devil he knew did was better at paperwork than the new guy; King Louis becomes a danger to everyone including himself without that patient father figure to steer him away from the sharp knives; and as for the Queen – well, sure, the Cardinal plotted against her all the time, but at least she never had to stick him with a hairpin to prevent him from raping her.

I am not the least ashamed that I squealed with utter glee when the hairpin provided Rochefort with the need for an eyepatch, after most of the season wondering where it was.

Poor Anne. It’s little wonder she ships D’Artagnan with Constance. All the men in her own life are idiots, wastrels and sexual predators. Still, we get to see her strength and her resilience as she deals with her insufferable husband and his creeptastic First Minister, and weathers all manner of accusations about her loyalty.

While we’ve never actually seen the Queen’s diamonds plot told in the BBC series, the spirit of it was definitely clear in the powerful season finale, in which Anne and Aramis were both put on “trial” for adultery – and despite being completely guilty, let’s face it – were able to claim moral high ground because the people accusing them were venomous assholes.

Everyone fighting to protect the Queen’s reputation and Aramis’ life knew that he was really the biological father of the Dauphin and that he and the Queen had committed actual treason as well as adultery, and yet they stuck with them because loyalty is not always about truth (when the King is a dickhead and Rochefort is worse).

Anne herself did not get to join the punch-and-swordfest that the Musketeers employed to bring Rochefort down (even Constance got in a blow, good on you, girl), but she got her own victory by sweetly informing him how little he mattered to her before his death, and by reclaiming her reputation and status with the King – effectively, returning to the status quo she had enjoyed before Rochefort’s arrival at court.

Hopefully, based on the hint of humble guilt we saw in Aramis towards the end, there will be no more of the bio father of her baby endangering her with his obvious stalking. Because yes, they love each other a bit, but come on, even if she didn’t have that whole Queen of France thing going on, it’s not like Aramis would actually make a good longterm boyfriend.

At least Anne came out of this Season with a reliable female friend who would literally die for her, and does her hair in new and pretty fashions. Now all I want is for her to hire Milady as her bodyguard/pet assassin in Season 3 and all will be perfect.

Despite the occasional ickiness of some of the narrative threads – the entire Marguerite the treacherous/lovelorn governess plot, and Rochefort being gross, and especially the bit with the prostitute dressed up as the queen ewwwww I’m so glad he’s dead – this was a great season of television as far as female characters are concerned. Yes, the show is called The Musketeers, and the posters normally focus on the pretty boys in their hats and leather and scruffy beards (and SURE they had some good plots too in this season but that wasn’t what I wanted to write about). Still, I really appreciate that a historical show with such a masculine tone provides us with plenty of varied and interesting women in the story – not just our main three, but the guest roles.

There were a few fabulous guest roles for women in Season 1, with particular shoutouts for the magnificent Flea and Ninon (who have huge followings in the show’s fanfic community despite only appearing in one episode each) and the devastatingly wicked Marie de Medici (Tara Fitzgerald) who has great hair. I think, however, that Season 2 did even better, with some interesting rarely-seen historical character types. Let’s run through some of my favourites:

Lucie De Foix (Olivia Llewelyn) who said what we were all thinking when faced with a naked D’Artagnan, was feisty and marvellous in escaping her imprisonment, and should have been made a Musketeer by the end of the episode – honestly, Treville, why are you hoarding those binders full of women? Just hire them already.

Samara (Antonia Thomas), a Moroccan intellectual and poet who Porthos tries to rescue (though he ends up getting captured alongside her instead), and is hiding a dangerous secret in her book of verses.

Emilie (Emma Lowndes), a Joan of Arc style prophet who sees visions and stirs up unrest against Spain, but is being manipulated by her pushy stage mother (also a great character). The scenes in which Athos tends Emilie through the painful withdrawal from the hallucinogenic drugs she has been dosed with for most of her life were genuinely heart-rending, and I really appreciated that there was an important young female character who wasn’t given a flirtation thread with any of the boys, FOR ONCE.

Jeanne (Linzey Cocker), an angry barmaid who masterminds the kidnapping of Athos to bring him home to the village he’s supposed to be protecting as their tame aristocrat.

Catherine (Marianne Oldham), a downright furious woman from Athos’ past who has been living in the servant’s quarters of his ruined house because she’s fallen from grace (and women aren’t allowed to find a new life by joining the Musketeers like SOME people, Athos). She starts out as a tough, interesting sharpshooter, and gradually unravels as we see how badly she is dealing with the loss of the privilege she was born to… she can’t cope at all with his communist, villager-friendly life choices, let alone the information that Milady still lives after everything she did to them all.

Louise of Mantua (Perdita Weeks), a clever, witty long-lost cousin to the King, or murderous assassin on a Bonnie and Clyde rampage through Europe? You decide!

Eleanor (Emma Hamilton), Porthos’ utterly appalling and morally deficient long-lost sister, who needs some kind of humble redemption arc stat, because giving him a family who traffic in vulnerable young women is mean on a zillion levels. Still, I appreciate when women are presented as out-and-out villains occasionally with no traumatic back story to explain why she’s vile. Porthos, you dodged a bullet when Treville stole you from this family, you owe him a fruit basket.

With a special mention for the return of the battle nuns, though sadly all too brief. Besiege the convent again in Season 3, please! And make sure they’re well armed, because nuns loading muskets never gets old.

Anyone who argues (still) that fantasy/historical fiction with dull, drippy and passive female characters is authentic because they can’t believe women in long skirts were capable of doing anything interesting? This show would be a great place to start re-examining your prejudices.

This Musketeer Media Monday post was brought to you by the paid sponsors of Musketeer Space, all 70+ 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)

Robotech Rewatch 45 – Clone Emotion

Hold your position, Robotech transmissions will now resume.

Episode 51 – Clone Chamber



We’d be lost without the narrator, who lets us know that the mysterious flower we found last time is actually the Invid Flower of Life. Dude. Spoilers.

Marie Crystal reports home on the mass casualties they suffered in the assault. They have managed to find shelter in an abandoned research station, and she requests to ship the injured home.

Leonard hears ‘hey we have a military base up here now, let’s use it to launch another assault.’ Emerson despairs.

LEONARD: This is war, man, not an exercise in intergalactic diplomacy.

EMERSON: We haven’t even TRIED negotiations.

Outside the war council, Angelo finds Zor acting suspicious and appears to wake him from some kind of sleepwalking manoeuvre. A startled Zor has no answer for himself but Dana rescues him quickly and talks at Angelo until he gives up. Her argument is that Zor’s memory loss means they should have compassion for him even if he acts super suspiciously.

ANGELO: Compassion for spies? Oh boy.

There is method to Dana’s madness – she wants to invite Zor to a movie. She also makes it very clear to him that the tickets were expensive, which sounds like she’s expecting him to put out. He is reasonably keen on the concept.

Bowie suffers Dana trying on every outfit she has ever owned, and is then flung out without warning. Once is is sufficiently glammed up, Dana emerges from her room only to have Angelo tell her that Zor is on a date with Nova tonight.

She is furious at Zor and Angelo teases her that she has to have compassion for his alien behaviour, right?

Dana smiles sweetly and gets her revenge by ordering him to come on the date with her instead. Yes, I ship them. I regret nothing.

Meanwhile, Musica and Pretty Redhead Boy discover that they have been officially paired as mates. She struggles with this because she is having Feelings, and everyone (including her own sisters and Redhead’s brothers) is horrified. She then starts crying and they freak the hell out.

“If this is a sickness I know who is responsible for infecting me with it.”

Musica’s super romantic recollection of Bowie.

Musica pours all of her disturbed emotions into her music, while the siblings back away slowly. Music with emotions in it? That’s just weird.

Meanwhile, Angelo is a terrible date. He laughs uproariously at how silly the movie is, and infects the whole cinema with his guffaws. Dana smacks him and drags him out.

Nova and Zor have a fancy grown up restaurant dinner, and Nova lets out a bunch of really covert military information in between bitchy comments about Dana. She’s particularly smug that the relief force going to help Marie Crystal’s lot is leaving out the 15th yet again. Speaking of whom, she makes a grand entrance, yelling at Zor (whom she calls an android) and Nova.

DANA: You’re not supposed to like it, you tramp, it was an insult.

Angelo gets pissed off at Zor for not responding to Dana’s shouting, and Zor claims he doesn’t feel well and wanders away from the table, leaving behind the colossal mess he has created.

“Well where I come from, that kind of move is called a cop out.”

Angie is my favourite and my best.

Musica’s disobedience is confusing all of the clones, who lecture her about her strange behaviour in rejecting her chosen mate. She faints in public, and they have no idea how to handle her.

On the moon base, Marie is relieved that the fleet are on their way, and is feeling soppy about Sean which is par for the course when he’s far away. But once the relief fleet arrives, it is clear that the enemy were expecting them. Marie and her people have to “rescue the cavalry.”

The Robotech Masters are cranky that Marie’s support fleet spoiled their plan, and they blame Zor’s information as unreliable. They are also concerned that Musica is one of many of their clones who are starting to show high levels of ‘emotionality’ and counter productive behaviour, similar to what happened when the Zentraedi were exposed to humans.

Their conclusion is that they should go into full production of “Invid fighters” which is confusing – do they mean troops to fight Invid, or troops made out of Invid?

Marie is welcomed home and given due credit for her good work on the moon. To her surprise, she is then greeted by her friends – Sean and Dana and Angie – and bursts into tears when she realises that Sean might actually care about her.

Sean: I’m yours.

Dana: I bet all his girlfriends get the same line.

Angelo: Now Ma’am that isn’t’ very nice.

Angie is more of a romantic than Dana. Who saw that coming?

Back in the break room (and how is it that the 15th get their own room that they never have to share with any other squadron?) Louis brings the dire news that General Emerson (who is, we should emphasise, the Chief of Staff) has been given the job of leading the next highly dangerous offensive against the enemy.

It’s not only a weird military decision, but is deeply upsetting for Bowie, who is now fully established as Emerson’s godson and someone with an emotional attachment to him, unlike earlier in the series.

Angst!

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