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ὡς τρὶς ἂν παρ᾽ ἀσπίδα στῆναι θέλοιμ᾽ ἂν μᾶλλον ἢ τεκεῖν ἅπαξ. I would rather stand three times in the battle line than give birth to one child. —Euripides, Medea
Valkyr,”
Aliens weren’t as tough as people.
There is only one human community where T-standard is the language of choice. Ironically, in claiming a position as the sole “true” humans, the extremists of Gaea Station have made themselves an enclave of galactic-language speakers. This twist of fate is unsurprising to students of human history. Since language and identity are closely intertwined in human culture, a society seeking to eradicate individual cultural identities and histories in favor of a fictitious pan-Terran “cause” must begin by robbing its people of their languages.
We were so close to cracking it. We didn’t lose because the majo cheated. We lost because we didn’t cheat fast enough.”
“Valkyr,” Avi said, “everyone who meets you is scared of you.”
There was something wrong with Gaea Station. There had always been something wrong with Gaea Station.
Ursula Marston, Earth’s Children: Humanity After the End of the World (unpublished)
“It was a parallel-universe builder, right? Existing in every possible timeline at once—cool shadowspace shit, always theoretically possible but you’d need shadow engines on a whole other order to sustain it—simulating potential realities on a grand scale, constantly, and then someone—you, I guess, or your progenitor Prince Leru—picks the best simulation and the machine drags our whole universe over to that,” he waved his hands about like he was trying to grab a word from the air, “that thread. Which sometimes involves a bit of space-wizard bullshit because the Wisdom also gives you a shortcut
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“Kyr’s just doing her lone hero thing again,” Cleo said. “You should see her run a team scenario. It’s like the rest of us aren’t even there.”
You took everything so seriously. Cleo too. I never liked either of you.” She was smiling a dry little smile. Zen had said that the first time round too, Kyr remembered. It had been a shock then. Now it felt more like an honor, to be trusted with Zen’s real opinion.
Kyr suspected Val had missed the point of being very thoroughly educated. She thought of all her book knowledge as collections of exam results.
But if the ideas in this book interest you, you may wish to read about them in treatments which are fuller and more thoughtful than a novel can aspire to. In no particular order, here are a few of the books I read while writing this story: The Anatomy of Fascism by Robert O. Paxton, for a considered examination of the twentieth century’s most terrible political creation; The Impossible State by Victor Cha, which discusses the history, the logic, and the peculiar international position of North Korea; Going Clear by Lawrence Wright, particularly interesting on the personalities that drove the
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None of these has a direct correspondence with Valkyr’s story, which is pure fiction. I am not a knowledgeable enough historian to make a good allegorist. Two other debts I have to acknowledge here. One is to J.R.R. Tolkien—even in the dark reaches of dead space, I found it entirely necessary to include a dream of Minas Tirith. The other is to the great Ursula K. Le Guin, from whose writings I learned the phrase “social science fiction.” I apologize unreservedly for the many errors and implausibilities found in this story. I am afraid to say that the technology of shadowspace runs on purest
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Some Desperate Glory, Emily Tesh’s debut novel,
The title Some Desperate Glory comes from the poem “Dulce et Decorum Est” by Wilfred Owen, written about his experience in the First World War.
“Emily Tesh unflinchingly plumbs black-hole depths of bleakness, with a resolution that had me sobbing cathartically, ready to say goodbye.”
