This week, the discovery of a mythical artifact rocks the galaxy, but the seemingly innocuous stone has a history more akin to that of a blood diamond. When the Enterprise takes the gem aboard, Picard insists he can quit any time he wants, but the crew begins to get worried when he starts to lose weight, turn pale, and cal the artifact “my precious”. Why does Worf always have to be so Worf? Who’s riding dinosaurs on the holodeck? Will the sonic appliance wars ever end? All this and more in The Devil’s Heart, the book that’s disturbingly warm to the touch.
Tag: guardian of forever
This week, Riker has had a terrible, horrible, no-good, very bad day, and by “day” I mean “four decades”. But then he suddenly remembers he lives in Star Trek and hijacks the Guardian of Forever to take a mulligan. Meanwhile, we take our own trip to the past and watch a young, cocky, clean-shaven Will Riker as he brings the full force of the old Riker charm to bear on an aloof, self-assured Betazoid named Deanna Troi. How do Betazoid restaurants work? Do you think Kirk wrote his own autobiography? And can any of us dream of aspiring to Lwaxana Troi’s level of pettiness? All this and more in Imzadi, the book that begins, naturally, at the end.
Today it’s time for Time for Yesterday, the sequel to one of only a handful of books from the earliest days of the Pocketverse that can unequivocally be called good. When stars begin prematurely going nova, an admiral gets the classic power trio back together to figure out why the Guardian of Forever decided to take a lunch break. But when their freelance help’s attempt at telepathic contact gets her Deebo’d, Spock’s best idea is to recruit his son for the job—but he’ll have to interrupt the Guardian’s DVR recording of Game of Thrones to pull it off. Has Spock mellowed out as a dad? Would the Guardian of Forever be a clingy friend? Can I get my name legally changed to Rorgan Death-Hand? It’s the book where our heroes are running out of time, until they aren’t.
Another Star Trek novel opens with yet another fawning introduction by a figure of some import within the community. This time, it’s written by Howard Weinstein, still fairly fresh off his own pretty decent Trek book, The Covenant of the Crown. I’ve previously pontificated on the questionable utility of these obnoxiously obsequious prefaces, but in Ann Crispin, Weinstein is fortunate enough to finally have a subject on whom such words aren’t wasted.