Sifu Blackirish
SOC-14 1K
here is a description of a craft from my writing. if anyone is interested enough to try to produce hard numbers for it, I would be highly impressed. Any Naval Architects out there willing to give it a shot?
from novel TALES OF A MAD SCIENTIST, story THEY CAME FROM OUTSIDE
There were no other craft to be seen, since they had all been rerouted to dispersed secure holding areas. His course was taking him towards the lone working orbital dock, now moving into geosynchronous orbit over Mainport. It's Terran equivalent would be the complex known as the Kennedy Space Center.
Whatever was there was huge, probably a million tons displacement. Exactly what its configuration was he could not accurately determine, since it blended in so well with the dock’s own beams and supports.
That was strange. What was the utility in assuming command of a ‘completed’ craft that actually needed many more weeks of construction time? Franklin requested a survey circle before docking. Autosystems quickly responded, giving him an opportunity to satisfy his burning curiosity about just what he was receiving.
He was impressed, yet his curiosity increased.
It certainly was a study in elegance. Instead of an ungainly dispersed structure with attached modular pods, or even a stubby wing and curve shape typical of a classic lifting body, there was a graceful expanse of smoothly integrating curves and dome structures. Surprisingly, there was no outer hull plating.
Again he received information that made him request a confirmation. Why did this dock have so few active workers? A craft this size should have thousands of beings swarming over it. Orbital dock census showed only three hundred forty eight beings assigned.
What could he see on this next pass?
Ah, there was what some still called a ’keel’ and others a central spine, where tau shunt power taps, central computer and reserve G-space drive were located. Several large clusters of spheres immediately adjacent were reserve antimatter fuel tanks. A profusion of smaller spheres evenly spaced where the outer hull plates should be were a complete mystery.
Autosystems informed him that control of his craft had been handed off to the orbital dock. There was no longer any need to speculate, since soon all of his questions would be answered. He just hoped that whatever answers he received would not upset him too much.
There was a barely noticeable bump and hiss as his craft achieved seal and equalized pressure. His airlock opened to reveal an average looking older man. What made him exceptional was a face that seemed frozen in a permanent scowl and a cigar stub that moved constantly. Both were probably signs that he was irritated at this unplanned interruption.
“Come on, I don’t have all day. Follow me and watch for the gravity step.”
Franklin took a single step in to the structure, and suddenly realized why his host had warned him. Gravity had been increased by at least twenty-five percent over Terran standard. Briefly he wondered why someone would deliberately subject himself and his workers to abnormally high gravity. Fitness enthusiast? An example of applied masochism? Well, as long as he was careful and did not injure himself, that was not his concern.
With only a moderate effort, Franklin followed his guide towards the control center. Gravity ramped down to zero during the last six meters. Upon arrival there were yet more surprises. Not only was this large working space in zero gravity, all interior surfaces were composed of transparent duraplas-prime. It was also devoid of any other personnel.
Franklin floundered upon reaching the new gravity step, stumbling and starting a slow tumble. He was saved by his guide grasping an ankle and redirecting him toward one of a multitude of empty seats. After he was seated and secured, he released a grateful sigh of relief.
“Thanks for the assist, Dockmaster.”
“Call me Scotty. Scotty Masters. Are you prone to space sickness?”
“Not a problem. It’s just been a while since I’ve been in zero-gee other than for training.”
Franklin looked around. A compartment which should hold dozens of controllers was deserted. In fact, only one section of consoles was active.
“Scotty, this setup seems kind of strange. Don’t the other controllers object to this environment? How about your smoking?”
“This setup keeps out idlers and curious busybodies. Whether I smoke or not is none of your business. And I don’t need any help.”
Sure enough, that was not an idle boast. In a smooth and easygoing style, Dockmaster Scotty operated six foreman stations at once. He even took an impromptu break to leave his working area, maneuver to an expanse of duraplas-prime and enjoy the view, puffing furiously on a fresh cigar while hanging upside down.
It was an impressive display of real time labor allocation and practical time motion study. He was so focused on his work that Franklin thought he had been forgotten. Suddenly Scotty turned to face his visitor.
“We get no respect from OC. My schedule is disrupted and no one tells me why, except to say it is an alpha priority. Regardless of the cause, nothing’s stopped me from meeting a deadline yet, even an arbitrary one. Between your luck and my skill, we won’t miss this one either…”
He looked at his visitor’s rank badge.
“…Admiral.”
“There was no intent to deliberately disrupt your routine, Scotty. You might not know it, but we are facing an unprecedented situation. This could determine the fate of the entire galaxy!”
“I know about it. I just don’t care. What I do care about is out there.”
He turned away to face a rumbling control panel.
“Omega 98343, check structural integrity reinforcement generator at junction 3250 by 191 by 24.”
On a monitor, a golden hued figure floated freely, using only a minimal life support necklace and zero-gee maneuvering unit. A double green flash came from his eyes, then he gracefully floated out of sight.
“Without volunteer help from Mainport’s Omegas, I would not have been able to complete yard tune and trim by end of shift. Because of my success, Director White will owe me a case of one hundred year old Scotch.”
Franklin did a double take and stared at his skeletal craft. End of shift?
“Scotty, you must be suffering from a case of excessive optimism. Aren’t you weeks away from skin pressure and hull integrity tests?”
Scotty laughed out loud while floating back to his central control station.
“Sorry, I shouldn’t be laughing. Of course you don’t know about this. We have an entirely new system here. Just passed field trials on Stormview last year. This will be the biggest success yet for Bountiful's matrix manufacture technology, using an independently programmed multiforge.”
"No neuroscan and automech construction?"
"Automechs still handle the major construction duties, with their internal specifications programmed by us rather than selecting an internal file. We supervise and provide guidance at decision points."
He made a few motions to tie in to a broad spectrum communicator channel.
“All workers, stand by for full spectrum hull integration.”
A nearby status board turned green rapidly as all working Omegas reported to shielded dockside locations. When they were secure, Scotty turned to face his visitor with a broad smile and a stationary cigar.
“Watch closely. This is the part I really like.”
A sudden liquid shimmering effect caught Franklin’s eye. Like geysers erupting without warning, what appeared to be molten metal sprayed. Flowing from the surface spheres, ripples interacted with each other and finally subsided into what appeared to be a standard duralloy-prime hull.
It left him speechless.
“Gets everyone that way, the first time they see it.”
Franklin was still staring, his mind a complete blank.
“Outer spheres contain tau shunt power taps and an antimatter backup. Any hull section has triple projection on armor field reinforcement, along with a full chameleon option. Interior projectors provide structural reinforcement at all bulkheads, along with standard deck separation.”
Franklin finally produced enough presence of mind to speak.
“Should I assume there is a reconfiguration option as well?”
Scotty smiled again.
“Of course. You will have the pleasure of experiencing that system yourself. I can’t have all the fun.”
An alert signal chimed. Scotty silenced it with a wave and checked a monitor.
“We are receiving a new series of gatelink handshakes. Looks like your crew and support fleet is incoming.”
He held out his hand.
“She’s all yours, Admiral. Don’t scratch my new paint and remember where home is.”
Franklin took his hand and endured a potentially bone crushing grasp.
“Thank you, Dockmaster. Save a bottle of that Scotch and hopefully we can toast my success on my return. I shall bring a bottle of my family brand, as well.”
from novel TALES OF A MAD SCIENTIST, story THEY CAME FROM OUTSIDE
There were no other craft to be seen, since they had all been rerouted to dispersed secure holding areas. His course was taking him towards the lone working orbital dock, now moving into geosynchronous orbit over Mainport. It's Terran equivalent would be the complex known as the Kennedy Space Center.
Whatever was there was huge, probably a million tons displacement. Exactly what its configuration was he could not accurately determine, since it blended in so well with the dock’s own beams and supports.
That was strange. What was the utility in assuming command of a ‘completed’ craft that actually needed many more weeks of construction time? Franklin requested a survey circle before docking. Autosystems quickly responded, giving him an opportunity to satisfy his burning curiosity about just what he was receiving.
He was impressed, yet his curiosity increased.
It certainly was a study in elegance. Instead of an ungainly dispersed structure with attached modular pods, or even a stubby wing and curve shape typical of a classic lifting body, there was a graceful expanse of smoothly integrating curves and dome structures. Surprisingly, there was no outer hull plating.
Again he received information that made him request a confirmation. Why did this dock have so few active workers? A craft this size should have thousands of beings swarming over it. Orbital dock census showed only three hundred forty eight beings assigned.
What could he see on this next pass?
Ah, there was what some still called a ’keel’ and others a central spine, where tau shunt power taps, central computer and reserve G-space drive were located. Several large clusters of spheres immediately adjacent were reserve antimatter fuel tanks. A profusion of smaller spheres evenly spaced where the outer hull plates should be were a complete mystery.
Autosystems informed him that control of his craft had been handed off to the orbital dock. There was no longer any need to speculate, since soon all of his questions would be answered. He just hoped that whatever answers he received would not upset him too much.
There was a barely noticeable bump and hiss as his craft achieved seal and equalized pressure. His airlock opened to reveal an average looking older man. What made him exceptional was a face that seemed frozen in a permanent scowl and a cigar stub that moved constantly. Both were probably signs that he was irritated at this unplanned interruption.
“Come on, I don’t have all day. Follow me and watch for the gravity step.”
Franklin took a single step in to the structure, and suddenly realized why his host had warned him. Gravity had been increased by at least twenty-five percent over Terran standard. Briefly he wondered why someone would deliberately subject himself and his workers to abnormally high gravity. Fitness enthusiast? An example of applied masochism? Well, as long as he was careful and did not injure himself, that was not his concern.
With only a moderate effort, Franklin followed his guide towards the control center. Gravity ramped down to zero during the last six meters. Upon arrival there were yet more surprises. Not only was this large working space in zero gravity, all interior surfaces were composed of transparent duraplas-prime. It was also devoid of any other personnel.
Franklin floundered upon reaching the new gravity step, stumbling and starting a slow tumble. He was saved by his guide grasping an ankle and redirecting him toward one of a multitude of empty seats. After he was seated and secured, he released a grateful sigh of relief.
“Thanks for the assist, Dockmaster.”
“Call me Scotty. Scotty Masters. Are you prone to space sickness?”
“Not a problem. It’s just been a while since I’ve been in zero-gee other than for training.”
Franklin looked around. A compartment which should hold dozens of controllers was deserted. In fact, only one section of consoles was active.
“Scotty, this setup seems kind of strange. Don’t the other controllers object to this environment? How about your smoking?”
“This setup keeps out idlers and curious busybodies. Whether I smoke or not is none of your business. And I don’t need any help.”
Sure enough, that was not an idle boast. In a smooth and easygoing style, Dockmaster Scotty operated six foreman stations at once. He even took an impromptu break to leave his working area, maneuver to an expanse of duraplas-prime and enjoy the view, puffing furiously on a fresh cigar while hanging upside down.
It was an impressive display of real time labor allocation and practical time motion study. He was so focused on his work that Franklin thought he had been forgotten. Suddenly Scotty turned to face his visitor.
“We get no respect from OC. My schedule is disrupted and no one tells me why, except to say it is an alpha priority. Regardless of the cause, nothing’s stopped me from meeting a deadline yet, even an arbitrary one. Between your luck and my skill, we won’t miss this one either…”
He looked at his visitor’s rank badge.
“…Admiral.”
“There was no intent to deliberately disrupt your routine, Scotty. You might not know it, but we are facing an unprecedented situation. This could determine the fate of the entire galaxy!”
“I know about it. I just don’t care. What I do care about is out there.”
He turned away to face a rumbling control panel.
“Omega 98343, check structural integrity reinforcement generator at junction 3250 by 191 by 24.”
On a monitor, a golden hued figure floated freely, using only a minimal life support necklace and zero-gee maneuvering unit. A double green flash came from his eyes, then he gracefully floated out of sight.
“Without volunteer help from Mainport’s Omegas, I would not have been able to complete yard tune and trim by end of shift. Because of my success, Director White will owe me a case of one hundred year old Scotch.”
Franklin did a double take and stared at his skeletal craft. End of shift?
“Scotty, you must be suffering from a case of excessive optimism. Aren’t you weeks away from skin pressure and hull integrity tests?”
Scotty laughed out loud while floating back to his central control station.
“Sorry, I shouldn’t be laughing. Of course you don’t know about this. We have an entirely new system here. Just passed field trials on Stormview last year. This will be the biggest success yet for Bountiful's matrix manufacture technology, using an independently programmed multiforge.”
"No neuroscan and automech construction?"
"Automechs still handle the major construction duties, with their internal specifications programmed by us rather than selecting an internal file. We supervise and provide guidance at decision points."
He made a few motions to tie in to a broad spectrum communicator channel.
“All workers, stand by for full spectrum hull integration.”
A nearby status board turned green rapidly as all working Omegas reported to shielded dockside locations. When they were secure, Scotty turned to face his visitor with a broad smile and a stationary cigar.
“Watch closely. This is the part I really like.”
A sudden liquid shimmering effect caught Franklin’s eye. Like geysers erupting without warning, what appeared to be molten metal sprayed. Flowing from the surface spheres, ripples interacted with each other and finally subsided into what appeared to be a standard duralloy-prime hull.
It left him speechless.
“Gets everyone that way, the first time they see it.”
Franklin was still staring, his mind a complete blank.
“Outer spheres contain tau shunt power taps and an antimatter backup. Any hull section has triple projection on armor field reinforcement, along with a full chameleon option. Interior projectors provide structural reinforcement at all bulkheads, along with standard deck separation.”
Franklin finally produced enough presence of mind to speak.
“Should I assume there is a reconfiguration option as well?”
Scotty smiled again.
“Of course. You will have the pleasure of experiencing that system yourself. I can’t have all the fun.”
An alert signal chimed. Scotty silenced it with a wave and checked a monitor.
“We are receiving a new series of gatelink handshakes. Looks like your crew and support fleet is incoming.”
He held out his hand.
“She’s all yours, Admiral. Don’t scratch my new paint and remember where home is.”
Franklin took his hand and endured a potentially bone crushing grasp.
“Thank you, Dockmaster. Save a bottle of that Scotch and hopefully we can toast my success on my return. I shall bring a bottle of my family brand, as well.”
