Dan Dare: Parsecular Tales


Another issue of Spaceship Away and another new Dan Dare story, written and drawn by Tim Booth, comes to an end, temporarily at least.
‘Parsecular Tales’ made its debut as long ago as 2010, immediately following on from the completion of Booth’s ‘The Gates of Eden’. It’s taken over six years to reach this point, issues 22 to 41, a loose, sprawling story, full of rambling diversions that never really amounted to anything, and which ended up in the same place as ‘The Gates of Eden’. I’m honestly not sure what to make of this story, and I’m not immediately convinced about taking it as ‘canon’.
The story is set in 2034, and according to Booth, Dan Dare has only just taken over as Spacefleet controller, as opposed to merely Controller (UK). Digby has finally accepted a promotion to officer, and is now a Major, and still the Controller’s right hand man. Hank and Pierre have left the Service, cashing in on their back pay from their period in suspended animation, Hank to become a Fluffalo (?!) farmer on a Saturnian moon, Pierre as a trader (and sometime smuggler). Everyone’s gotten noticeably older except Sir Hubert Guest, who is now the Prime Minister and looks completely unchanged, even though he’s 91 years old in Frank Hampson’s chronology.
Dan looks haggard and Digby’s gone bald and grown an enormous great handlebar moustache to compensate.
The looseness of the story was reflected by the looseness of its format. ‘Parsecular Tales’ began as six-page episodes, lacking the traditional Spaceship Away format of the Eagle title box. This continued for thirteen episodes, until Booth began producing ‘Mercury Revenant’ contemporaneously, when it dropped back to four page episodes for two issues, and then wound up as traditionally designed two page episodes, with the logo, appearing two an issue until the recent final episode. This puts the whole story at 112 pages by my count.
Booth starts with Hank on his farm, receiving an unscheduled visit from his old copain, Pierre, who has a delivery for him: it is a Thork telesender which he has to switch on and then just watch until something happens. This is many weeks later, in which time Pierre, heading for Venus for  a ceremony recognising the overthrow of the Mekon has only got as far as CONSDOCK, a secret Earth Research Station commanded by Colonel Dare, with his batman, Spaceman Digby
Intertwined with this is a Thork take-off from Spacefleet HQ with the Controller and Major Digby on board, already in suspacells to permit a fast getaway at the kind of speeds only Thorks can endure. Funnily enough, they are en route to CONSDOCK.
But the Colonel in command is Alastair Dare, nephew to the newly-elevated Controller and former Olympic Runner (looking good considering that that was the 2000 Olympics on Venus), and Spaceman Albert Digby, scion of the newly-balded Major.
Alastair Dare is overlooking the forthcoming test flight of Project Magellan, the latest attempt to come up with a Faster Than Light drive. Controller Sir Daniel is there to inspect it, Major Digby to inspect his son.
But that’s not all. Booth is tripping from scene to scene, laying a network of seemingly isolated incidents that, as the story develops, will come together to fit a so-far-unseen pattern. Admiral Lex O’Malley, crossing the South Martian Pole solo for what appears to be no more than a bet, discovers something that has him calling for Dan Dare before he’s knocked out in mid-transmission.
And Hank Hogan’s telesender finally delivers an unexpected visitor, all the way from Mekonta: the now somewhat mature but still attractive Professor Jocelyn Mabel Peabody.
The action is kick-started by the sudden failure of the Asteroid Belt Impulse Wave generators, sending the Solar System grid off-balance. This causes panic everywhere, and the immediate postponement of Project Magellan (to be more or less forgotten for the rest of the story) whilst Dan takes personal charge of the Asteroid situation. Thankfully, there’s a ship on hand at CONSDOCK that can get a hand-picked team to a) the Martian South Pole to rescue Lex and b) the Asteroids, and this is Pierre’s Le Chat Noir, which may be old and decrepit like everyone, but which has multiple motors including Monatomic hydrogen and an untested Halley Drive (to later be forgetfully called the Haley Drive: sloppy).
But let us not forget Hank and Jocelyn, who aren’t exactly shagging from the moment they are re-united but might as well be. Booth goes further than he did in ‘The Gates of Eden’ to pointing this pair at each other, and given that Dan Dare is basically an asexual figure, I suppose it’s only fair, but there’s a large part of me that cannot be reconciled to the idea of this pairing, and which has me struggling uphill for much of the story.
Besides, that the Prof still wanting to crawl into Hogan’s arms when he’s wearing a garish pink zoot suit that’s an offence to the eyes is an improbability no story could ever recover from.
Still: the telesender has bounced Jocelyn from Mekonta to Rhea, and now it bounces both of them back for dinner. The Professor is involved in a Treen project to replace the spaceship with inter-system telesending, and both she and Hank are to be surreptitiously arrested and taken to the base of a secret Treen Trans-Temporal Research station, set up under the behest of Governor Sondar, but headed by one Halcyon Scobal, Chief Scientist.
Scobal is tall and striking, dresses in archaic clothing, plasters a basilisk symbol over everything within reach and his surname practically screams anagram across the entire auditory spectrum, but even with all these clues for the terminally hard of thinking, not to mention that he’s the living spit of his uncle, it takes Hank and Jocelyn absolute ages to recognise him as being the nephew of Doctor Blasco of ‘Operation Saturn’.
One final story element to throw in: before Peabody and Hogan are picked up by the Project security force, they have a strange encounter via the telesender, as a broken and battered version of Syndar appears, seeking aid and mouthing cryptic utterances, before vanishing. Remember Syndar? He was the cyborg Treen of ‘The Gates of Eden’ who was the aid of Bob Dylan, aka John Wesley Hibbings. And according to him, their base, Shelter, has been destroyed and Hibbings is dead. Only one of these things is true.
The thing is that, despite everybody’s memories having been erased after ‘Eden’, and Hogan having no idea who Syndar is, Peabody remembers him instantly, as do most of the others later in the story. Why is this? I’m sorry, Booth doesn’t provide any explanations. In fact, he doesn’t provide much of anything relating to any answers.
I’ve described the set-up at some length so that you can see that a good job is done in providing a web of disparate strands, out of which a good, cohesive story can be forged, but the problem is that they are all little more than gossamer threads, to be abandoned in favour of Booth’s real interest in the story, which turns out to be bloody Bob Dylan again.
What was O’Malley doing in the Martian Antarctic and what did he find there? No idea, don’t care.
Will Project Magellan succeed? No idea, don’t care.
What is Scobal/Blasco’s plan? Hooking up with the Vashtilian Migration, which is coming through the Solar System and will destroy it en route. What’s his part in all this? Don’t know, don’t care, blast him to death off-panel and have the Professor tell us it happened.
What about the Asteroid Impulse Generator? It was blasted by the Vashtilian’s, one wave of which appears to have slipped through the Solar System without anyone noticing, except that it destroyed Cosmic and the McHugh’s (McHugh’s? McHoo’s: sloppy). Incidentally, they destroy CONSDOCK too, and Shelter, though in contrast to what Syndar said earlier, it seems that was because it was actually in the way of the beam they sent to destroy CONSDOCK.
What’s Dan Dare going to do to protect Earth from the Vashtilian menace? Fuck all, actually, don’t care.
No, seriously. We really are re-running ‘The Gates of Eden’ here. Dan and Co get whizzed off into some kind of hyper-space to board a massive space vessel that looks like a gigantic juke-box, where of course Hibbings has been alive all along and is offering a repeat of the explore-the-Multiverse deal. O’Malley’s too busy with the Navy, Hank wants to go back to his Fluffalo farm, Peabody to join him there and Pierre wants to keep on trading. But Dan the newly-promoted Controller is fed up with Admin and decides to have some fun for himself, and Digby has completely reversed his original opposition, so to Hell with the threat to the Solar System, let’s boogie.
Cue final episode. Dan has disappeared, all sorts of plans are being carried out in and out of Spacefleet, nobody’s talking about or concerned in the slightest about the implacable, invincible Vashtilians, who have vanished as completely as any sense of logic or structure or consistency to this ‘story’. And Digby’s hair has started growing again…
It’s not even an ending, just a coming to a stop. ‘Parsecular Tales’, named for a made-up word whose most plain association is the parsec, a measure of spacial distance approximating to 3.6 Light-years, is a meaningless title, befitting a meaningless story. The inference is that it will return at some future stage but frankly, if it weren’t for the fact that nobody else seems to be able to produce new Hampson-continuity Dan Dare stories, I’d counsel against agreeing to run any more episodes.
This does not count as extended canon as far as I’m concerned.

Dan Dare – Mercury Revenant


Tim Booth’s Mercury Revenant, written and drawn in eighteen parts in Spaceship Away 33 through 40 (whilst Booth continues to produce episodes of his longer-standing Parsecular Tales) is really no more than a short story, a lineal action tale whose main point of interest is that it brings Mercury back into the overall story, albeit as not much more than a background.
Once again, Booth is operating in the early years of the Dan Dare continuity. Given that this tale starts with the test run of a prototype MH-fuelled fighter ship (lockwave control having bounced right up to our-world-date with onboard computers doing the job automatically), it’s post-Operation Saturn, but the Xmas-based setting makes it hard to slot in before Prisoners of Space – and there’s no room after it.
Basically, Dan and Dig do a high-speed test run to Mercury, where a new Spacefleet satellite, the local equivalent of Mars 1, is anchored on the dark side of the planet, under the command of Major Tom (sic) D’Arcy, previously seen in Marooned on Mercury. There’s a fairly isolated research station on the surface, in the temperate zone, where one very familiar red-haired Professor is learning more of the Mercurian language and botany, aided by Urb ut-Urthos, another veteran of the rather ramshackle official Mercury story.
Jocelyn’s delighted at the prospect of having Dan for Xmas (rather a contrast to her obvious preference for Hank Hogan in Booth’s other stories) but the kybosh is put on that planet when a menace turns up. Something is on a collision course with Mercury 1, impact time approximately twenty-four hours away.
Booth makes good use of the original Venus story here. At first, the object appears to be the derelict Kingfisher, but D’Arcy identifies it as its sister ship, the Kookaburra. He goes on to relate how the Kookaburra, and its other sister-ship, Kittiwake, was part of the reserve fleet for the 1996 Earth Invasion of Venus, but was badly hit by a Treen squadron, evacuated and forced out into space.
It appears that Kookaburra has actually drifted, comet-like, out as far as the Kuiper Belt before sling-shotting back towards the sun, on a course that takes it plumb through the space occupied by Mercury 1.
It’s an ingenious set-up but unfortunately, Booth is trying to be too clever by half here. Firstly, the whole point of D’Arcy in Marooned on Mercury was that he had been taken from Kingfisher when it was destroyed, months before Dan Dare ever got to Venus, and that he was the Mekon’s captive all the way from then until Mercury, four years later, so how the hell does he know the minutiae of the battle?
And whilst Dan’s universe is one in which interplanetary travel can be achieved at speeds far greater than those of our universe, for Kookaburra to travel from Venus orbit to the Kuiper Belt and back to Mercury orbit on nothing better than Impulse Power (which isn’t generated beyond the Asteroid Belt), in only five years, is stretching the boundaries of scientific plausibility more than somewhat.
Still, we have a menace, and we have Dan and Digby in a spacecraft, with Jocelyn Peabody advising them on scientific matters. This is going to be fun!
And Booth has one more complicating factor up his sleeve. Over Sir Hubert’s objections, Kookaburra was carrying a highly-illegal, utterly secret weapon, an only-in-the-case-of-utter-defeat Doomsday Weapon, set to wipe out all life north of the Equitorial Flame Barrier on Venus, so we”re talking a real Mercury-buster here. Sort of ups the stakes, really.
After that, though, the story is pretty much Saturday morning serial fun. On Peabody’s advice, Dan boards Kookaburra to set off all its port missiles, with Digby on watch to shoot them out of the, uh, sky. The kick of this one-sided boost throws the stricken ship off-course and away from Mercury 1, but unfortunately all this does is throw it onto a collision course with Ray-Law, the Mercurian capital city.
So Dan has to go back, to divert the ship to land, safely, by parachute power (another aspect of the Venus invasion) in the temperate zone, only that doesn’t work and Dan gets dropped on the hot side, in a lava lake, sinking and burning in molten lead! It’s wonderfully reminiscent of Sir Hubert and the Professor having to be rescued from the Flamebelt in the original story, with everybody galloping to the rescue, and Booth’s final touch is both a steal from, and a foreshadowing of The Ship That Lived, when our old pals Hank and Pierre do a deus ex machina rescue, having been on leave, lava rafting.
There’s just time for a grand old slap-up Xmas feast, complete with Digby’s traditional concern for just how soon they’ll be mixed up in summat dangerous again (it’s got to be Prisoners of Space, though after a successful trial like this, how come these MH powered ships disappear without trace in favour of the ‘Performing Flea’?)
A fun, but light tale, of a kind that would have fitted in fairly neatly in scope with the monochrome shorts of Keith Watson’s first year.
So that’s two more unofficial tales that are good enough to swell out the continuity. There are signs that Tim Booth’s Persecular Tales may be nearing an end, of some sort at any rate, so I’ll probably be back next year at some point, to comment upon that as a whole. And at least one new Dan Dare adventure will have started by then, which looks like it will be from a fresh creator.
It goes on.

Dan Dare – Operation Tau Ceti


They're back!!!
They’re back!!!

Thanks to the ongoing endurance and excellence of Spaceship Away, two more complete Dan Dare adventures are now available to be read, and their worthiness to be incorporated in the canon be assessed.
The first of these is another prose novel from New Zealand fan Denis Steeper, whose Report of the Cryptos Commission, with its carefully devised chronology of Dan Dare’s career tends to be my bible for such things. This latest novel has been included with the last five issues of Spaceship Away, comprising five A5 booklets, each of twenty pages.
I was heavily critical of The Invaders of Ixx, which was set well after the Hampson/Watson continuity, for the aggravated cynicism and, to be frank, rampant interculture racism on display so far ahead. Operation Tau Ceti is not unmarked by such things, but is Steeper’s first extended story set within the Dare canon: our hero is still no more than Chief Pilot of Spacefleet, and though the story is set post the Treen Holocaust, with what that implies about the loss of the original Hampsonian innocence, we are still in a world easily recognisable as that we are most used to.
The story is set in 2015. Two years have passed since the return of the Terra Nova expedition, during which time Earth’s World Government (in which the Liberals are still clinging to post-Holocaust power) have been locked in mortal combat with Cosmic over the Halley Drive and every possible offshoot from its discovery. In Thork-space (i.e., Saturn’s sphere of influence) Red Tharl has finally won the Secession Wars and is in control of the Nine Moons.
Though it’s only three years since the end of the Holocaust, Earth is recovering faster than could have been expected. Saturn is still the dominant power in the Solar System, but the signs are already there that Earth will catch it up and surpass it in a decade, and Saturn will never catch up. Despite the legal stalemate with Cosmic, and with the benefit of the many discoveries made among the wrecked spaceships of the Sargasso Sea of Space, Earth has reverse-engineered the Halley Drive. The first starship has been named the William Dare, in honour of Dan’s father, the second will be the Copernicus, after his McHoo co-pilot on the original starship. And, at a secret asteroid base in the Belt, Cosmic have duplicated the Galactic Pioneer.
Unfortunately for all concerned,these developments are not as secret as they ought to be.
The action is precipitated by a clash of Spacefleet and Grand Union ships in the Asteroid Belt, Disputed Territory between the official boundaries of the Inner and Outer Planets. Given that the Thork culture is a richly feudal one, complicated by racial differences between the various colours, there is a certain degree of autonomy among Admirals, continually looking for advantage which, combined with the natural instinct to see the flatfaces as innately inferior, rapidly escalates towards war between Numidol and the Inner Planets.
Actually, it would usually be quite easy to defuse this situation: just get Dan Dare on the line to his old friend Tharl, who probably (and actually) knows nothing of this, and it would all be switched off. But Dan’s not here. At the same time as this skirmish has begun to escalate, a secret thork attack on Cosmic’s secret base has succeeded in space-lifting out of here the Galactic Pioneer II. And it’s gone out-system, towards Tau Ceti. And Dan is commanding the William Dare on immediate instructions to get out after it.
The absurd thing is that, after much thought and calculation, Spacefleet were about to launch on a survey mission to Tau Ceti, as the best of all the potential stars at a similar distance to Terra Nova, with the best prospect of an Earth-type planet. Now, the survey aspect is pushed way down the list: Dan’s top priority instructions are to recover or destroy the Galactic Pioneer II.
Thus the set-up. Steeper deploys his usual technique of multiple, multi-viewpoint scenes, each identified by date and place. He has two parallel strands in motion and flicks backwards and forwards between different elements of each story, which become further entwined when, after Cosmic are placated in order to retrieve Dan via the confiscated Galactic Galleon, Sir Hubert is forced to join the McHoo team. This brings Controller USA Wynard Spencer in as Acting CIC, due to it being Buggins’ turn, and Spencer is an absolute cretin whose completely wrong-headed tactics threaten to open the door to massive Thork victory.
Both stories are built up by confident detail and a careful assembled extrapolation of the real mechanics of Dan’s universe. Steeper is very good on this, and very good also in his imagination of the convoluted Thork personality, which keeps the home system story bubbling along nicely.
But we are here for Dan Dare and, not unincidentally, Earth’s first official interstellar adventure. For crew, he has the old gang, that is, Digby, Anastasia, Hank, Pierre and the Professor. There’s no Flamer Spry (too busy studying for exams) nor Lex O’Malley (too far underwater) and it’s no disrespect to either to say the story is better for not having their implausible presences along, even if much of the action takes place on a substantial moon, named Poseidon for the fact it’s primarily ocean.
Apart from the renegade thorks, who get wiped out eventually by Dan, along with the Galactic Pioneer II, there are two alien races in the Tau Ceti system. Both are colonists. One, the Krevvid, are insignificant in terms of this story, though Steeper takes time to intimate that they could be a problem if their race ever gets to hear of the Solar System. The other are the Pescods, and they’re a problem.
As if this weren’t enough, Steeper takes him to add a related subplot, in the form of a Treen attack on Formby aimed at capturing details of the Copernicus, which gets foiled thanks mainly to former Astral Senior Cadet and SF Resistance leader, Mark Straight. Apart from its illustration of Earth post-Holocaust, this slim subplot is of no great moment, except that it amply demonstrates the sheer panic at the thought of the Mekon getting hold of any information about building a starship.
And not just the Mekon, but any Mekon. The one we know has neither been seen nor heard of since seemingly committing suicide in the Silicon Mass as long ago as The Ship That Lived, but that still doesn’t mean he isn’t out there – or that somewhere, somehow, the Treen breeders have cloned a New Mekon (remember that, as far back as ‘The Venus Story’, twenty years previously in Steeper’s chronology, the next Mekon was fifty years away from coming to maturity.)
Overall, Operation Tau Ceti  was enjoyable, and sat well within the Dan Dare stories to which it is supposed to be contemporary. The post-Holocaust cynicism is there, as is the abrasion between the lifeforms of the Solar System, but it is at an entirely less well-developed stage: Hampson’s original utopianism is still the primary influence. I’d like to see how Steeper might tackle a pre-Holocaust story: there’s still room in the long gap between ‘The Venus Story’ and The Red Moon Mystery, even after allowing for Tim Booth’s The Gates of Eden.
And speaking of Tim Booth, his is the other new story completed in this past eight issues of Spaceship Away, which I’ll be considering next.

Dan Dare Comics 2017?


At the end of this link, there’s an announcement by Titan comics of a new Dan Dare comic in 2017, illustrated by the cover of their version of the first half of the ‘Venus Story’ (Titan aren’t into value-for-money, at least not for their customers).

The amount of information about this is non-existent. Titan aren’t noted, as Eddie Campbell has pointed out, for publishing anything that hasn’t already made money for someone else first, so hopes are not being set high. After all, that adaptation of Dan Dare into (updated) radio adventures for Easter 2016 hasn’t yet seen aural daylight.

Support Spaceship Away instead.

Dan Dare: The Invaders of Ixx


I’ve extended this series of looking at the whole Dan Dare canon to include a handful of exercises in contributing to the extended Dare Universe, but this is where the show finally reaches the end of the road.
The Invaders of Ixx is another prose novel by Denis Steeper, to follow on from the Pirates of Numidol Trilogy. It’s again set in the expanded continuity created by Steeper in The Report of the Cryptos Commission to link together all the original stories and bind them into a coherent history. The Invaders of Ixx is a much smaller, entirely linear story, set even later in Steeper’s chronology than anything before it, and resting upon one of the few continuity points Steeper was unable to incorporate into the Trilogy.
But for this link, however, it is almost completely detachable from the official canon. It is set in 2032, four years after Sir Daniel has become Controller in Chief of Spacefleet, in a universe that has changed drastically from that once depicted by Frank Hampson. Lasting peace holds between Earth and Numidol, even if mutual suspicion still affects both sides. Earth and the Therons have now moved on from their weakened state in the wake of the Treen Holocaust, though suspicion of the Treens still burns deep inside everyone. The Mekon’s resources grow ever thinner. Known Space, and the colonised worlds continue to expand. The Fenx are still an enemy and, in another region of Space, so too are the Vorde, despite a peace negotiated by Sir Daniel.
But it’s a Universe in which the cynicism that Steeper posits as inevitable after the Treen Holocaust has only gotten worse. Everyone is more corrupt inside, seeing only aliens and hating them and committing slurs. Politicians are more venal and self-directed. The military more eager for war. It’s a dirty, grimy Universe now, and one that Steeper lays on with a trowel, until it seems that only Dan and his immediate cohorts – Digby and Toby Spry, plus a Steve Valiant who is a junior but unrespected and ineffectual Dan Dare – are capable of acting with a concern for anything but their own private interest.
I’ll return to that thought before I finish, but it is all pervading.
The first of the five parts that go to make up this story, ‘Murder on Mars’, was originally serialised in Spaceship Away, where it appeared complete in itself. That concerns a plan by the Mekon to disrupt the Olympics on Mars, much as he attempted to do so when they were held on Venus, many moons ago. Mars is being terraformed, blocks of ice being catapulted from the Asteroid Belt and directed to sites on Mars where two oceans are slowly growing and more atmosphere is being pinned to the planet. The Mekon’s plan involves diverting one such iceteroid to crash onto the Olympics site…
All well and good, and properly diverted by Dan and Digby, but Steeper then goes on to build upon this footing a rather larger plan, with not too many direct links. Essentially, the Mekon has found allies, allies who are to invade the Solar System and take Mars for themselves, allies who come with an invasion fleet over 1,800 ships strong: an overwhelming enemy even for the combined forces of Earth, Theron, Thork and Lant.
These are the Ixx, and they are the insectoid race that briefly threatened the Outer Planets as long ago as Project Nimbus. Steeper posits their craft as being a scoutship for a race driven from their home planet, in search of a new home. He also posits two crewmembers being overlooked and surviving in a base on Jupiter’s Moon, Ganymede, now a part of Thorkspace.
And he posits these two Ixxians being found by the Mekon, who invites the Swarm in to take Mars from the cursed Earthmen, leaving the Mekon free to return to his rightful place on Venus. And, given the size of the Ixx Swarm, and it’s inevitable strength, humanity faces extinction.
Steeper uses the same technique as before, of multiple viewpoints weaving separate strands from multiple places. This time, without time travel, the timeline proceeds undisturbed. Dan and Digby fall into the Mekon’s hands at an early stage but escape with the aid of the two Ixxians who survived Project Nimbus, who introduced the Mekon to their people and who now bitterly regret it.
Ultimately, these two get Dan and Digby, now joined by Toby Spry, the Fleet’s leading zeno-expert, to the command of the Swarm where, with the aid of a surprisingly sympathetic senior advisor, not to mention Toby’s dueling skills with a Phant short sword, a treaty is negotiated to end the growing bloodshed without further loss or destruction to either side.
And only at the end is it revealed that the Ixx were not, in fact, the overwhelming menace they were taken for, and Earth could easily have had them. Indeed, Dan’s naturally chivalrous nature has struck one final time, instead of letting it all go to custard (a phrase that is used, over and again, in this novel, the meaning of which being obvious though not the derivation: maybe it’s just a New Zealand thing?)
I realise that I’ve presented the story in fairly perfunctory terms, and this is unfair to the novel. It is considerably more complex in its development and execution than I’m giving it credit for, and it’s a far better proof-read volume than the Trilogy. But in my present mood, I’m finding myself wanting to reject it.
Some part of that is that I am not in a sympathetic frame of mind at this time, some even is that I’ve been re-reading and writing about Dan Dare for almost a year and this is the end of it for me.
But most of it, too much of it is sadness and despondency at the Dan Dare story ending in this manner, ending in this damned grubby universe of mean and miserable people. Steeper is sadly right to say that, after the Treen Holocaust, it would be beyond naïve to think that Dan’s Earth would have, could have remained as clean and bright and optimistic, as utopianly hopeful as Frank Hampson had meant it to be. Jean Amery once said that “the first blow forever changes the torture victim’s world”. Beyond that, there is no more trust, no more illusion.
Steeper is only following that inviolable dictate. But that doesn’t make for a world in which I can be completely happy at seeing the Pilot of the Future: this, for me, is not the Future of which he was meant to be part. It may be realistic, but it is not worthy of Dan Dare, nor Digby, nor any of their companions who fought so many times to steer that world through dangerous presents, to achieve a universe that is as broken and corrupt as the one in which we live, you know, the one without an Impulse Engine.
I’d exclude The Invaders of Ixx if I could, consign it to an alternate Universe, much like that in which Grant Morrison and Rian Hughes’ Dare the Future belongs. But because of the Pirates of Numidol Trilogy, I can’t do that. It’s both or neither, and the Trilogy is too important to too many things in Dan’s universe to be ignored.
But I don’t have to like it.
Two things in this book exemplify the magnitude of this aspect. Steeper presents a series of newspaper headlines at the start of each chapter, from different levels of newspaper, one of which is clearly a tabloid. It’s headlines include the ongoing appearances, on page 3, natch, of Stephanie Rocket, a topless pin-up of implicitly voluminous size.
This latter aspect is emphasised when, turning the joke on its head, the implants explode during an illicit photoshoot at SFHQ.
It’s a mildly amusing but wholly irrelevant little strand, included presumably for satiric content, feeble though that is. But instead of leaving the joke at its evident punch-line, Steeper then goes on to write Ms Rocket into the actual story, with a slick lawyer intent on suing everybody even peripherally involved for million pound libel suits. A bitter taste extrudes itself into the mouth.
But for me the conclusive touch is indeed conclusive. One of Steeper’s creations is Major Hanna Bovaird, of Army Intelligence, stationed in Mekonta. Major Hanna plays an active role in investigations into the murders on Mars and subsequent intelligence operations derived from that. Her role changes once the Ixx Invasion ties up all of Earth’s resources, and Treenland revolts, throwing off the Occupation Forces’ yoke in readiness for the Mekon’s return.
Lieutenant Colonel Bovaird (promotion comes quickly) finds herself as Senior Officer. As such, she is responsible for the deeply secret Final Solution for the Treen Problem, an exceedingly illegal hydrogen bomb, stored in Mekonta, to be activated to wipe out the Mekon and the entire Treen race. Genocide.
Hanna, and a Sergeant, are the last ones left, with the responsibility of doing something that is ultimately the greatest wrong, but which will leave open the door for the human race to one day come back, a door the Mekon would close forever. It’s an irrevocable step: even the knowledge that the bomb, the plan existed, would forever change humanity’s relationship with every race that is prepared to trust it.
Dan’s success in negotiating a settlement with the Ixx obviates the need for the bomb. Hanna is a true-blue, honest, loyal patriot: though she gets a second promotion to full Colonel, she wants nothing in exchange for keeping her mouth shut. But that’s not good enough at the highest levels of Army Intelligence: the sergeant is killed in a hit-and-run accident at exactly the same time Hanna’s apartment block blows up, though she’s smart enough to avoid being in it at the time.
And to go on the run, keep out of it, until she reaches the Deputy of Spacefleet Intelligence, Steve Valiant’s old dorm-mate, Mark Straight. Under SF protection, she negotiates her safety at the highest level, a new role, posting to France, genuine prospects, and she will not speak.
All well and good. Steeper spends enough time on this, shows the value of intelligent diplomacy, the calming of the situation in everybody’s favour.
Virtually the last item in the book is a news item of the death of an Intelligence Officer, killed in a car accident in Paris, believed to have been drinking. Reports of a second car have been dismissed.
That’s too much cynicism for me. I could take it in the Trilogy, but it’s gotten too far away. No matter The Invaders of Ixx‘s qualities, I cannot accept the cynicism of the Universe any further. A very sad note on which to end this examination of Dan Dare’s Future.

Dan Dare: The Gates of Eden


A great gift

The advent of Spaceship Away was a godsend to many, not least those who had dreamed of working on their own Dan Dare stories. One who was far more advanced than most, and far more qualified, was Tim Booth, writer, artist and musician, who approached Rod Barzilay with a story he was writing and drawing. Barzilay approved of it, and Booth’s The Gates of Eden debuted in issue 9, running for 39 episodes.
I love it. There are reasons why I shouldn’t, and I’ll explain these, and it’s something Frank Hampson would never have countenanced, for many reasons, and it’s not as if it has a proper ending, except in the closing of a door to something way beyond the Dan Dare series. But I still love it: for the imagination it displays, for the long periods in which it focuses on Hank and Pierre and their continual banter, and for its art.
I didn’t really care for Booth’s contributions to Green Nemesis. He’s not as precise an artist as any of the ‘professional’ stable, his work is frequently fussy and over-detailed, and his colouring is far too Sixties psychedelic to be wholly suited to Dan Dare.
But for The Gates of Eden, Booth adopted, and primarily hewed to a simpler, more direct style, with more naturalistic colouring. In some ways, it’s like a cartoon version of Hampson’s style, and the early style at that, which befits a story that slips into continuity between The Venus Story and The Red Moon Mystery.
And Booth is to be congratulated lavishly in one tiny aspect at least: he is the first and only Dan Dare writer or artist to show Albert Fitzwilliam Digby speaking to his wife!
Booth takes his time over the first half of the story. He’s not just preparing for the dramatic aspect of his tale, he’s enjoying himself filling in details of Hampson”s world that were left to our assumption. I do have to criticise one immediate detail, which is that The Gates of Eden begins in 1998, and one of its preliminary details is Dan being taken off a mission to the Asteroid Belt to supervise the first full Venus Food Run: given that the Venus Story ended in 1996, that’s an awfully large gap for a planet so desperate to escape from reliance on food blocks.
But Dan, and of course Digby, have to go to Venus, leaving Hank and Pierre, that pair of puzzled pilots, to go it alone in the old-fashioned Nimrod. Their mission is to identify suitable asteroids for Impulse Wave Relay stations to be built upon, extending Earth’s space-shipping range. En route, picking up newly-designed spacesuits, they bump into the designer, Professor Peabody, with Tystar, the young son of the Theron Volstar. These two will also have a part to play, when things hot up. Take note that the ship they are travelling on is the Milton Caniff.
Meanwhile, the ‘Frogboy’ and the ‘Yankee Palooka’ fly on to the Asteroids, the latter toting a ukelele/mandolin on which he sings, badly and, if the picture in his cabin is any evidence, a bit of a torch for the fair Jocelyn. And the two ‘copains’ go about their mission, but Pierre the more sensitive of the two, has the feeling that they are being watched, and he is, of course, right.
On Venus, the urgent reason for Dan to supervise this Food Run is carefully revealed, and it is a genuinely touching moment. There is a symbol of Treen/Theron co-operation, designed and constructed in secret: nostalgia overwhelms as Sondar and Volstar present the Pilot of the Future with his personal spacecraft, the Anastasia.
And there’s a perfect excuse for a first mission, as radio contact is lost with Hank and Pierre in the Asteroids. Dan and Digby take their new craft (about which Dig has doubts, given the number of windows that will have to be polished) and set a course.
En route, two things happen: first, the Milton Caniff goes missing, with young Tystar and Earth’s premier food expert, Jocelyn Peabody aboard, and the Anastasia is overtaken, swept up and given a lift by an American crewed Rescue Fleet commanded by Colonel Estev Cyonna.
Yer what? Estev who?
This is a moment to step away from the story and address some of the issues that ought to disqualify The Gates of Eden from consideration.
Those whose knowledge of comics, strips and cartoonists stretch beyond the purely British world of the Eagle ought to have recognised the name Milton Caniff as being the highly influential master of the adventure strip, the writer and artist of the legendary and rip-roaring Terry and the Pirates. Caniff was a master of chiaroscuro, an artist dedicated to realism and accuracy, one of the most influential American strip artists of the Twentieth Century.
Personally, like many, I prefer the dozen years Caniff put in on Terry to the near fifty he spent on his second great strip, the one he left Terry to create and, more importantly, own. That was Steve Canyon, and if you jumble the letters of the improbable Estev Cyonna… And within Booth’s style, he is drawn to be Canyon.
I’ve not the least objection to that, but I feel that, as a matter of consistency, I ought to. It’s not just Caniff and Canyon, but there are spaceships of all sizes and dimensions, such as the rock-crusher Bo Diddley, the Little Eva, Miss Liberty, Crazy Horse, Dixie Darlin’, the Thomas Pynchon. Admittedly, the list of ship names also includes the Lancastrian but that’s very much an exception. Booth peppers his strip with American names and icons, all of which should be thought of as inimical to the atmosphere of so British – so English – a character and series, as Dan Dare.
That’s not all, but we’ll return to that subject after another section of the plot, this time the ongoing mystery of what is happening to Hank and Pierre.
They are being watched and, what’s worse, whilst investigating one asteroid’s possibilities, their ship is taken, leaving them in desperate straits with only a few hours of oxygen each before inevitable death, long before Anastasia could possibly reach them.
Only death is not inevitable. Hank and Pierre have been led, and where they have been led is into the interior of the asteroid, where they find a strange, unmanned base. It’s accessed through a mysterious, yet familiar to Pierre, set of numbers: 21 – 12 – 1918, it’s got breathable air and it’s got a doorway out into the open. It leads to Eden, a planet of natural goodness and beauty, an idyllic yet empty world that proves to be populated by robots fighting an automatic war.
Just what the heck is going on?
What’s going on is a cyborg-Treen, Syndar by name, vat-brother to Sondar and so valued by the Mekon that, when involved in a bad crash, he was rebuilt with robotic parts. Let’s be honest, if it was hovering near the margins of an authentic Dan Dare story, at this point Booth takes it outside the line and keeps it over for almost everything that follows. The Mekon repair a damaged Treen? No, he wouldn’t, under any circumstances.
Syndar conducts Hank and Pierre from Eden to Isshka, a primarily water planet, via some form of telesender. They are greeted by a mermaid, or rather Professor Peabody, with Tystar. Forget Tystar, the Prof looks like she’s never done before, with a grin on her face far more sexy than any look managed during Eagle‘s run, and she changes out of her wet-suit on-stage, revealing a fetching pink slip. No wonder Hank closes in for a hug. And good old Jocelyn is definitely on-side with what’s going on.
Then, with Dan and Digby being led carefully to a rendezvous at Shelter, a secret asteroid base constructed and run by the man behind all of this, we get the great revelation. And it’s Bob Dylan.
No, it’s actually former Earth scientist and spacepilot John Henry Hibbings, who prefers to be known as Mr Jones (as in you don’t know what’s going on, do you?) and in both the visuals and the dialogue, the Dylan references pile up so thickly you could pick them up in lumps. And is not the title of the very story a not-in-the-least coded reference to the man?
Let’s cut quickly to the chase. Dylan/Hibbings has bummed around in space since the Sixties. Early on, he found some crystals with power over space, time and dimension. He has learned how to master them. But the longer time has gone on, the more he has sensed something dark, dense, distant, a threat of immense proportion. That’s why he’s gathered the Venus team, minus Sir Hubert, together. It’s a repeat of what the McHoo will do in Dan’s future, collecting an unparalleled Space Exploration Team. Will they help him?
Unlike McHoo, Hibbings/Jonesy will not force a decision. Should Dan and Co refuse, they will be returned to those places in space and time where Hibbings first interfered, without memory, to live out their lives as they choose. With Tystar absenting himself from decision-making, it becomes a matter of democracy.
There are two in favour – the Professor, already enthralled with the possibilities of discovery, and the ever-adventurous Hank – and two dead-set against – the disbelieving Pierre and Digby, who has taken against this ‘snake-oil salesman’ on sight. The final decision falls to Dan. As it must always have been, and by this I don’t mean the future we already know of, he turns it down. He’s younger, less convinced, lacks the personal elements of his lost father and McHoo’s fait accompli, but it’s down to his duty, to his Controller, to Spacefleet, to the people of Earth.
So Hibbings keeps his word, and everyone goes back, without memory, without trace (save for Hibbings’ compulsion to re-string Hank’s rackety old mandolin). What remains is the successful conclusion to the Venus Food Run and a soiree hosted by Jocelyn, at which Pierre re-finds the mysterious numbers, that mean nothing to anyone save Digby who, metafictionally identifies them as Frank Hampson’s birthday.
Where do we start with all the ways in which this is absolutely wrong for a Dan Dare story that seeks to ground itself in the authentic canon? I’ve already alluded to the overt Americanisation of things, the worship of Caniff and the utter wrongness of Syndar, but the biggie is of course the presence and tutelary spirit of Mr Robert Allan Zimmerman.
Booth’s fixation with Bob Dylan practically takes over the strip. This buttresses the Americanised aspect of the tale but also gives it a distinct leaning towards the Sixties, when Dan’s proper metier is the Fifties.
Then there’s Eden, and the opening of the gates to a wider world, to more universes that Dan’s own. Booth even uses the word Multiverse to describe what lies beyond, a word that I at least cannot hear or read without instantly thinking of the Justice Society of America and DC Comics. It’s wrong, completely wrong, and it has the unintended effect of diminishing Dan Dare by making his Universe one among, well, a Multitude.
None of this is appropriate to a series whose basis lay in hard science, in plausibility and realism. So far as what Booth introduces here, it is advanced science of a kind indistinguishable, in Arthur C. Clarke’s saying, to magic, and so in Dan Dare terms it is magic, by virtue of not having any rational explanation, such as Impulse Waves, or Nimbus Drives.
Of course, there is another interpretation of this final phase of the story. It can be cast into symbolic terms and read as a metaphor for Frank Hampson’s desire to extend Dan Dare’s reach, into American newspapers, into animated films, to take Dan into a world wider than that occupied by Hulton Press, where stories may well have had to be retold in a different manner to his art boards. Though the analogy is weakened by it being Dan himself, supported by the solid, stolid Digby, who rejects such an expansion.
As for that metafictional ending in which the characters themselves disclaim any knowledge of their creator, let’s adopt Dan’s final verdict and not go there, just not go there.
Yet for all that I said I loved The Gates of Eden, and I still do. That’s why it appears here in this series, on an equal par with the official canon. The only part of it that makes me truly flinch is Peabody’s overt sexuality, because it’s just wrong for Dan Dare’s world (and besides, forget this anonymous Jack Gurk – Professor Jocelyn Mabel Gurk? No way – if there’s any marrying to be done, it should be with Dan, there’s definitely a story there in getting him to come down off his Confirmed Bachelor perch and recognise what good things could ensue).
As I said before, I recognise the people. Booth’s story and setting may be wrong, but I believe it’s Dan and Co who take part in it. And I will forgive much for Booth bringing Albert Fitzwilliam Digby and his wife and four-times mother to his children together at long last, even if it’s over distances counted in the millions of miles, via a viewscreen, Earth to Anastasia. “’Ullo monkey, how’s tricks?” she says, getting a word in edgeways before Aunt Anastasia starts hassling Digby about wrapping up warm in space.
There’s a long overdue world in that greeting, and enough to let us all know just how the Digbys keep their marriage on track when he’s never home. That’s the real Gates of Eden.

Dan Dare: Green Nemesis


Having lived the dream of practically every Dan Dare fan who’s ever lived in writing a new story that had been drawn by two ‘real’ Eagle artists, Rod Barzilay got what he’d originally wanted: the chance to write a true ‘epic’ adventures, a story that would last forty episodes, and of course feature the Mekon as the protagonist.
Green Nemesis follows directly on from The Phoenix Mission, as a reconstituted Marco Polo expedition returns to the Sargasso to resume the original expedition and, this time, investigate Professor Peabody’s theory that the whole thing has been created by the destruction of the Red Moon. Given that the Prof’s theory centres upon the Moon and the Sea having been powered by a small and manipulable Black Hole, it’s hardly a surprise that it attracts the attention of Earth’s most implacable enemy.
I have to be honest and say that, enjoyable as it is, Green Nemesis is nothing like as successful as its predecessor. In part this is, unavoidably, due to the inconsistency of the art. Don Harley had agreed to continue drawing the revival, but upon the same conditions as before: that it should be fitted in around his other, ‘professional’ commitments. For something that involved nineteen pages, and which had an indefinite deadline, that was perfectly workable.
But Green Nemesis not only demanded eighty pages of work, it had a real deadline. Spaceship Away was published three times a year and it set out to publish three episodes of the story each issue. That meant eighteen pages a year. Barzilay had temporised when Harley had not yet made up his mind, contacting latter-day Dan Dare artist David Pugh to produce a splendid first page, but that still left seventy-nine, and Harley is no longer young.
Inevitably, things had to give. Barzilay had already been contacted by artist/writer Tim Booth, whose own new Dan Dare story, The Gates of Eden (coming up next) had started appearing in Spaceship Away. Booth was a natural choice to assist Harley in completing one page, and frequency was reduced to two episodes per issues.
But even at this rate, Green Nemesis was proving too time-consuming. When it became clear Harley would not be able to fit enough pages into his schedule, Booth was the obvious replacement. For a time, the art would alternate between the pair, as Harley was considered the number one choice, but eventually Booth took over the story completely (in parallel to The Gates of Eden, which he was also writing) until the story was done.
This artistic muddle did not help Green Nemesis one little bit, but the story was in any event a much less coherent affair from the outset. I said about The Phoenix Mission that Barzilay had, understandably, tried to cram too much into too little space. But now he had the space to justify the extended cast he’d devised, he made the mistake of dividing the story into too many strands.
Whilst the majority of post-Hampson stories had focussed upon Dan and Digby only, with very few and brief tangents into what other characters might be doing, Dan’s creator had never been averse to maintaining parallel tracks, centred upon multiple characters. Barzilay attempts to extend this approach, but is too ambitious. Counting the Mekon himself, there are four separate, interweaving, principle tracks in the body of the story, only two of which (Dan and Dig, the Professor and Uncle Ivor) feature major characters.
There are simply too many things going on, featuring unknown or minor characters for smooth reading. At three (or two) episodes every four months, I found the story sprawling and confusing, and reading the whole thing in a concentrated Spaceship Away session was little better. Only when I deliberately set out to read Green Nemesis as a whole, ignoring everything else, could I get a grasp of its structure, and follow the individual threads with understanding.
Leaving aside the complicated structure of the story, Barzilay continues to be ambitious in filling in elements of a coherent Dan Dare universe. He ventures towards a slightly more feminist milieu by bringing in another woman scientist, in the form of the Theron Katoona Kalon, granddaughter of the Theron President. President Kalon is missing, presumed dead, since the Treen Holocaust, and the Mekon spends a great deal of time trying to capture Katoona, including trying to tempt her to surrender by revealing that her grandfather lives, in suspended animation, like Dan’s friends.
That the President’s whereabouts on Venus are discovered off-screen, relieving Katoona of her emotional struggle, is a bit of a cop-out.
Barzilay had already, in The Phoenix Mission, introduced Dennis Steeper’s conception of the Union Wars that keep Red Tharl and Saturn out of the way for many years, and in Green Nemesis he goes one better, off his own bat, introducing into the derelict ships of the Sargasso the craft on which the late dictator, Vora, entered the Solar System, itself powered by two balanced suns that, together with the Sargasso’s black hole, threatens to destroy everybody before the job is done.
I’d like to like Green Nemesis better than I do, and whilst I wouldn’t hesitate to criticise, say, Eric Eden over his writing of an adventure, I’m loathe to do the same with Rod Barzilay. He’s not a professional writer. He’s a fan like me, and, more importantly, he’s done something that I don’t believe I could have done, and written no less than two whole Dan Dare stories. And he was candid on more than one occasion in Spaceship Away about the very flaws I’ve identified and where he’d gone wrong. I’ve no doubt that, given the chance of a re-write, he’d have done a much better job.
But whilst I think that Green Nemesis was flawed, confused and difficult to follow, which is a failing of Barzilay’s plotting, on the other hand, except in minor respects, his actual scripting is solid, his dialogue not just believable but believable in the mouths of characters we tell ourselves we know as intimately as our own family, and when I read Green Nemesis, I believe that I am reading Dan Dare, the Pilot of the Future.
Being aware of The Phoenix Mission when writing The Report of the Cryptos Commission, Denis Steeper included both that and Green Nemesis in the index of Dan’s adventures. Indeed, he went further, completing a trilogy with Ghosts of the Sargasso, a story that remains to be told. Rod Barzilay has retired from Spaceship Away and writing Dan Dare stories, but I’ve still got a hankering to see what the final part contains: presumably, it would encompass examination of the spherical spaceship that is the progenitor of the Tempus Frangit
One point remains to be considered. Both these stories are what, in the American comics industry, would be called “retcons” (a contraction of retroactive continuity). The stories have been fitted in between The Ship That Lived and The Phantom Fleet, though they’ve been used in large part to colour in large swathes of the unknown background to stories up to that point.
There’s only one piece of blatant foreshadowing, near the end, when ‘Friday’ MacFarlane decides that all this racketing around in danger is too much for him and he’s going to put in for a transfer to the Moon Run – where we see him one final time in the first week of The Phantom Fleet.
But there’s a bigger issue to think of. In the official saga, there is no sign of the Mekon between The Ship That Lived (where everybody but Digby thinks he’s dead) and The Solid-space Mystery where Dan and Digby both react in shock to his appearance, exclaiming that he’s dead. Green Nemesis is at least consistent in leaving our heroes thinking that the Mekon to be dead again when the Spacelab blows up.
A foolish consistency is not always the hobgoblin of little minds.

Dan Dare: The Phoenix Mission


The real thing

When Comics Journal columnist R. Fiore reviewed the film Who Framed Roger Rabbit?, he began with the line: ‘When you see a man walk on water, you don’t complain that he’s got his (trouser) cuffs wet’. That line applies equally aptly to The Phoenix Mission, a ten-part Dan Dare story, written by long-term Dare fan Rod Barzilay, drawn by Keith Watson and Don Harley, and published in issues 1-4 of Spaceship Away, a magazine created by Barzilay as, ultimately, somewhere to publish this story.
The Phoenix Mission was published under licence from the Dan Dare Corporation Ltd, which now owns the world-wide rights to Dan Dare and his fellow characters. Spaceship Away‘s licence is to publish new stories of Dan Dare within the original Fifties continuity. This first, impossible to imagine story was published between 2003-4, a new, unashamedly Hampson-esque adventure, thirty-six years after Dan’s adventures in Eagle.
That I should live so long, and be so well rewarded.
The history of The Phoenix Mission, and how it took a dozen years to pass from conception to the printed page, is set out in detail in Spaceship Away 1-3 (indeed, it’s practically the only other thing in those issues!). But a quick summary is in order.
The original spark came from Dare fan Dave Westaway. Keith Watson was doing private commissions for fans and Westaway suggested that a group could jointly commission enough boards for a full-scale adventure. Barzilay took up responsibility for the project, contacting Watson and getting agreement from him. Indeed, Watson – who insisted on editorial control – was enthusiastic, although Barzilay’s initial dream of another epic was cut down to a more practical ten episodes. In the absence of a suitable writer with suitable ideas, Barzilay began jotting down thoughts himself, and became the writer, almost by default.
The story was to be set between The Ship That Lived and The Phantom Fleet, and would centre upon the most fruitful gap in the original saga, a return to the Sargasso Sea of Space, justifying the title on multiple levels.
Tragically, after completing the first page to his satisfaction, Watson was diagnosed with a far-too-virulently spread cancer, and died in 1994, at the age of 54, mourned by the entirety of fandom.
The project was rescued when Don Harley agreed to take over, though given his existing commitments, years passed before the story could be completed.
Publication was an equally tricky hurdle. Watson’s death had severed all connection to contemporary Fleetway publications, and whilst Hawk Books would have happily added The Phoenix Mission to their roster, loss of the licence to Titan Books (who will never knowingly print anything that hasn’t been published before) stymied that approach.
Hence the need to create Spaceship Away, with unexpectedly fecund results…
I found the first two issues together in Forbidden Planet in Manchester, and fell upon them like the Assyrian sweeping down upon the fold. My first reaction, on reading what amounted to six episodes in one sitting was that I had died and gone back to the Fifties, not a sensation that I would welcome in any other context. My second reaction was immense jealousy towards Rod Barzilay, even as I recognised that I could not have done what he had done.
The story is fairly tight and clipped, in view of its limitations on length. It’s preceded by a homage to Frank Hampson’s World Daily Post ‘cover’ in ‘The Venus Story’, cramming in tons of exposition in a painless manner. The Mission of the title, which is commanded by Major Steve Valiant, is set against the background of Earth’s slow, painful recovery from the Treen Holocaust: Valiant’s orders are to retrieve King and MacFarlane’s damaged but basically intact craft, together with any other Earth-craft in usable condition. Spacefleet is still desperately undermanned for effective vessels.
As an adjunct to the main mission, our dear old friend Jocelyn Peabody is along to study ‘Crusoe’ and ‘Friday’s hydroponic arrangements, though she’s deeply interested in a ship that, despite her having seen it destroyed, appears to be in perfect condition in the Sargasso.
The first problem in that the Sargasso appears to be a dead radio zone. The lack of communication from the Marco Polo, leads to Dan being sent out, with Digby, in Anastasia, to find out what’s up. En route, he picks up two passengers, one official, one highly irregular. The first is Tharl’s Ambassador to Earth, little Nikki, from Operation Saturn, travelling to view Tharl’s newly-discovered duplicate flagship, and search for his long-missing ally, Captain Nerkut. The second is Uncle Ivor, pragmatically taking the long route back to his Martian diggings, on the only ship that will have him.
Dan’s arrival in the Sargasso is the prelude to chaos. Valiant has taken the Marco Polo outside the dead zone to communicate with Earth, and his team have taken up residence on the damaged Space Clipper, the Delaware, whilst explorations continue. Dan, Dig and Nikki search Tharl’s craft, Uncle Ivor jets off to investigate ancient star writings on another of the mysterious ships, and disaster strikes.
Captain Bud Johnson explores an old ship, unaware that it’s powered by pre-Blasco MH fuel. It explodes in righteous fury, causing ripples of damage across the whole area, the worst being that it activates remote drone-ship defences on the dormant mysterious Red Ship, which threaten to destroy the whole Earth expedition.
Total defeat is held back by the adroit use of Black Cats, but ultimately, it is Valiant, in the returning Marco Polo who gets everyone the hell out of there, to regroup, re-think and, in the case of Professor Peabody, adopt Denis Steeper’s ingenious idea by identifying the Sargasso with the destroyed Red Moon.
End of story, set-up for sequel, and phew!
If I’ve a criticism of this story, it’s a fond one, and entirely understandable, and it’s that Barzilay tries to cram too much into so short a piece. Aside from the characters already mentioned, not to mention the previous stories referenced, there are cameos for Sir Hubert, Flamer, Stripey, Hank and Pierre, whilst the Mission crew I haven’t mentioned also includes Mark Straight, Tony Albright and Tubby Potts.
Indeed, this flaw is foreshadowed in the World Daily Post edition, which lists no fewer than 31 members of the Mission team.
As a consequence of wanting to feature too much – as I said wholly understandably in a story that was originally a one-off – Barzilay corners himself with his one error of pacing, which is the off-hand, and very rushed squeezing-in of Peabody’s theory about the Red Moon in the dwindling number of panels of the last page, which makes for a very weak ending.
Other than that well, as Fiore said, you don’t complain about getting the bottoms of your trousers damp! This is superb, and the art is brilliant. Keith Watson’s final page is heart-breaking, in the thought of what would, in a fairer world, have followed. But Don Harley’s work is easily of the standard of the days when he was ‘the second best Dan Dare artist in the world’.
It is far superior to his work on the series between 1960 and 1962, even without Bruce Cornwell. Though it took literal years to complete, in between other jobs, Harley has still been able to devote more time to each page than in the days when he was on a deadline, and the quality is unmistakeable.
So, there was one more Dan Dare story, and Don Harley, after a certain ambivalence, decided that he could continue the agreement. There would be a second, a direct sequel, the epic that Barzilay had dreamed of, to be called Green Nemesis (and what does that title lead us to expect?)