Trope-a-Day: National Weapon

National Weapon: There are really too many local variants on this theme to play it straight in the modern era; about the closest you can come are the Two Swords of the Old Empires (see Choice of Two Weapons), which the initial spread of the Empire on its own world spread to lots of other places as at least an option.

Another potential item for the list might be the kaeth battleax, a weapon closely resembling the lochaber axe which, with some modernization as to materials and some of the less functional accessories, is the linear ancestor of the modern legionary boarding ax/space-ax.  (But in these modern days and times, the signature weapon of the kaeth is “the biggest guns it’s possible to carry”, so a true national weapon it is not.)

Trope-a-Day: Nanomachines

Nanomachines: One of the very common forms of Applied Phlebotinium in the Empire, and the Worlds in general.  However, this being at least firm SF, they don’t cause physically implausible superpowers – and in general obey the laws of physics – do require energy sources (be it chemical or external power transmission), do need to dispose of their waste heat (a particular limitation on in-body nanomachines, given how little of it it takes to do serious damage to the host), and, by and large, require specialized operating environments to do their jobs.

And while they are incredibly useful in manufacturing, they are not the be-all and end-all; if you need a large steel casting for something, it would be ridiculously inefficient – and uneconomic – to nanofacture it rather than use a perfectly good robotic steel foundry to do the job.  Even in nanofacture, macroscopic machines with nanotech operating heads are actually much more common than swarms of independently operating assemblers.

Notes on the Schedule (At the Starport)

2+6:36 – CMS Istry’s Bargain
Procurer-class freighter; standard berthing; perishable-cargo priority.

2+14:48 – CMS Booze and Ores
Skoufer-class smeltership; bulk discharge berthing.

Please assign to bay 17-A; rock dust gets everywhere and 17-A is already overdue for cleaning.

– Elin Vidrine, Cargomaster

2+20:00 – CMS Fimry Dancer
Hariven-class free trader; standard berthing.

2+30:48 – CS Ashbourne
Drake-class frigate (routine patrol); requires bunkerage.

2-15:48 – VNS Equitable
Voniensa Republic Navy, Harrier-class destroyer; diplomatic transport; requires bunkerage and supplies.

Deny all shore leave requests except minimum required by draft treaty obligations; tensions are still running high.

– Coril Andracanth, Port Director.

2-6:36 – LS Sev Dal Taine
League of Meridian, Sens Maget-class freighter; standard berthing.

3+5:12 – DM Quaintly Quirky
D!grith Association, d!grianne-class free trader; standard berthing.

3+20:36 – Overwhelm
Rim Free Zone, unknown class, registered to mercenary free corps; standard berthing.

I’ll send one of the kaeth teams to meet them at dockside and say hello. Just friendly-like.

– Merian Vidumarvis, security shift supervisor

3-31:00 – CMS Lucrevault
Cheneos-class free trader; requests leave to sell speculative cargo at dockside.

Granted; assign lighter bay accordingly, please.

– Elin Vidrine, Cargomaster

3-10:36 – LS Sen Mal Murat
League of Meridian, Sens Maget-class freighter; standard berthing.

3-4:10 – CMS Ecdysiast
Pleasurable Company-class liner; passenger berthing.

Can we have them dock directly with the drunk tank?

– Merian Vidumarvis, security shift supervisor

No.

– Coril Andracanth, Port Director

Four extra squads and half a point on the ppO2 it is, then.

– Merian Vidumarvis, security shift supervisor

4+3:48 – MSS Frozenfire
Múrast Symbiosis, Icicle-class symbiont; standard berthing; cold-ammonia atmosphere.

4+12:00 – DM Immodest Profit
D!grith Association, d!grianne-class free trader; standard berthing.

No-one’s manifest is this clean. No-one’s. They’re smugglers. Have an inspection team remind them that they don’t need to smuggle anything hereabouts, but we like to see a full manifest anyway.

– Jynel Herrian, Imperial Customs

4+30:36 – CSS Watchful Vagabond
Far Traveller-class explorer; standard berthing and AM bunkerage.

Plat indicates they came in from the Periphery; exercise extra care in lifeform scans and quarantine procedures.

– Jynel Herrian, Imperial Customs

4-22:12 – NTS Node Crash
Nsang Interactate, Host-class postal carrier; small ship berthing.

4-10:36 – CMS Demand Led
Cheneos-class free trader; standard berthing.

4-4:00 – IS Winter Harmony
Tranquil Repose-class cryo-colonization transport; bunkerage only.

5+0:00 – PNN 0110111011100111
Photonic Network, Doubleword-class polis; infomorph passenger berthing; extra bandwidth requested.

5+11:00 – VSS Star of Rasél
United Viridian States, Solar-class liner; passenger berthing.

5+22:36 – SG His Eye Watches
DISTRESS/SALVAGE; Theomachy of Galia, Attribute-class freighter; reports severe engine damage, under tow; standoff berthing.

Whatever their actual distress situation, I recommend finding some excuse in it for a full inspection. The Submission-class is a common slave-ship variant of the Attribute-class, and they certainly won’t admit to being one of those in our space. We’ve been handed a chance to catch those bastards at it!

– Jynel Herrian, Imperial Customs

Approved, but be discreet. I want a caught-slavers diplomatic incident, not any other kind. And don’t space anyone without checking with me first!

– Coril Andracanth, Port Director

5+31:36 – QRS Liraz’s Orchard
Quave Republic, Firstfruits-class subsidized trader; standard berthing.

5-30:00 – DM More Than Gold
D!grith Association, d!grianne-class free trader; standard berthing.

5-27:00 – CMS Pentagonal Deal
Gallen-class freighter; standard berthing.

Tell Captain Madel he still owes me lunch and a new docking arm. I don’t insist on the lunch.

– Coril Andracanth, Port Director

– from the scheduled arrivals board, Cairen High Port space traffic control

Trope-a-Day: Naming Your Colony World

Naming Your Colony World: Examples of most of them exist in various places, although the Imperial Grand Survey works really hard to discourage people from naming anything New Anything, to the point of refusing to register the names, on the grounds that in deep time, eventually naming things New New New New New Whatever is too damn silly for words.

Beyond that, most of them are literary or mythological references, with a smattering of egopoli and symbolic names.  Numbered names are generally reserved for unexplored systems (most of them beyond the periphery of the Associated Worlds), and star names are generally not found per se, although generally, settled systems tend to be referred to, even on star charts, by the name of the primary settled world/main habitat in the system, rather than that of the star; which is not to say that the star doesn’t retain its own name separate from that of the world in formal usage, of course.

Trope-a-Day: Named After Their Planet

Named After Their Planet: Mostly averted.  While the galari are from Galáré, those names were created by the explorers who met them, since the galari themselves don’t use spoken language in any sort of phonemic sense.  Similar considerations explain the myneni from Mynár, inasmuch as mynenio is an almost pure-tonal language entirely without standard phonemes.  Meanwhile, the eldrae are from Eliéra, the esseli from Mmrdene, the kaeth from Paltraeth, the d!grith from Prrshurru, the kalatri from Vonikar (although they call it Vonis Prime these days), the ciseflish from Ólish, the linobir from Bir-Liahs, the skrandar from Kr!ngath, the celsesh from Eö, and so on and so forth…

(And all-yall Earthicans can be assured that they won’t call you that.)

Drake-class Frigate: Spec Sheet

Here, have a spec sheet… (certain items omitted pending further detail work).

DRAKE-CLASS FRIGATE

Operated by: Empire of the Star & client-states (export model only).
Type: Frigate, General Operations
Construction: Cilmínar Spaceworks

Length: 370m (primary hull 170m, engineering bus 200m)
Beam: [xxxxx]
Loaded mass: [xxxxx]

Gravity-well capable: Yes.
Atmosphere-capable:
Yes, with limits.

Personnel: 39, as follows:

Flight Commander
Flight Executive
Flight Administrator
3 x Sailing Master, most senior serving as Flight Director
3 x Tactical / Payload Officer
3 x Astrogator / Relativistics / Sensory Operations Officer
Flight Engineer
Propulsion / Power Engineer
Thermal Systems Engineer
3 x Data Operations / Data Systems Engineer
3 x Life Support / Auxiliary Systems Engineer
12 x general techs
6 x espatiers (cross-trained in starship operations)

Thinker-class AI

Drive: Nucleodyne Thrust Applications 4×1 “Sunheart V” fusion torch, with antiproton afterburner option
Propellant: Deuterium/helium-3 blend
Cruising (sustainable) thrust: 9.4 standard gravities (8.8 Earth G)
Peak (unsustainable) thrust: 11.8 standard gravities (11.1 Earth G)
Delta-v reserve: [xxxxx]
Maximum velocity: 0.3 c (based on particle shielding)

Drones:

8 x “Targe VI” point-defense supplementary drones, Artifice Armaments
4 x “Corax” tactical observation platforms, Sy Astronautic Engineering Collective

Sensors:

1 x standard navigational sensor suite, Cilmínar Spaceworks
6 x [classified] enhanced passive tactical sensory suite, Sy Astronautic Engineering Collective

Weapons:

2400/1200 mm custom axial mass driver, Artifice Armaments
4 x “Slammer III” dual turreted light mass driver, Artifice Armaments
“Eyewall” point-defense laser grid, Artifice Armaments

Other Systems:

Artifice Armaments cyclic kinetic barrier system
Biogenesis Technologies Mark VII regenerative life support
5 x Bright Shadow EC-1140 information furnace data systems
Islien Yards 3-DD vector-control core and associated technologies
Systemic Integrated Technologies high-capacity thermal sinks and dual-mode radiator system
4 x modular swapout bays

Small craft:

1 x Nelyn-class modular cutter (with optional additional fuel skimmer module)
2 x Adhaïc-class workpod

Ships in class (partial list):

CS Bloodclaw
CS Drake
CS Flamefang
CS Razorwing
CS Shadowstrike

Trope-a-Day: My Species Doth Protest Too Much

My Species Doth Protest Too Much: Seemingly averted because, so far as you can tell, all the Imperials really are that way.  (The explanation they would give, stripped of technical and polite terminology both, boils down to “We’re just obsessively inclined to believe that we are certain things, and even more obsessively inclined to live up to our monumental self-image in those regards,” which while probably true so far as it goes, is not really a full explanation.)

A more, ah, complete explanation is that in really fundamental things, like the Imperial libertist ethical tradition, those who don’t feel like conforming leave-or-are-left with great speed in the name of self-preservation (the Renunciates and future Renegades), and that those people who disagree firmly enough with the relentless drumbeat of internal and external perfection, Science!, beauty and negentropism that makes up the social consensus, while absolutely free to go their own way while remaining there, still generally find the atmosphere intolerable enough as to find their own way out.

In short: the Imperials stay that way by kicking out all the troublemakers.

Drake-class Questions

James Sterrett asks:

I gather that storage of consumables for the crew is in the external tankage, on the theory that a penetrating strike is a kill and thus there’s no point protecting stuff for survivors to use to survive/repair the ship?

Well, all the tankage is under the armor (except in the case of up-the-kilt shots), but most of the non-fuel non-heatsink tankage is between the crewed area and the hull, yes. On the other hand, it’s designed in much the same way as I gather some Russian submarines (the Typhoon-class, for one, IIRC) handle it; lots of smaller tanks, heavily subdivided. The theory being that a single penetrating strike may take out some of them, but it’s extremely unlikely to take out all of them, and indeed not much is short of battering the entire ship into a hulk and leaving no hull intact.

What are the limits on the ability of the frigate to recycle stuff? What’s the general cruise duration & actual maximum limit?

The recycling is very efficient for life-support purposes. I haven’t run detailed numbers, but a safe assumption is that you’ll run out of less depletable non-recyclables (ammunition, spare parts/specialized fabber feedstock, crew endurance, etc.) long before running into a problem with life-support consumables. Especially since most things you’re likely to deplete life-support-wise, even through leaks, can be renewed by pulling up alongside the nearest convenient iceteroid, hauling it in, chopping it up, and having your crew shovel the resulting slush into the gray-water system.

In terms of non-recyclable parts, a Drake follows the IN policy of being nominally stocked for a year’s cruising before needing replenishment. In practice, policy is to keep cruise duration between three and six months in space, depending on mission requirements, mostly for crew efficiency reasons, although that’s something that can be extended during time of war or other emergency. (That, though, is likely to require refueling from fuel stations or oilers along the way; and with oilers available to provide logistical support, theoretically, one could stay on station in space continuously – at least until suffering structural damage serious enough to need yard repair. The effects on crew morale would probably not be pretty, though.)

How much time does one of these spent in maintenance – is it a 3-for-1 rotation, where one is in dock refitting, one is working up for deployment with its crew, and one is deployed; or are matters such as refitting and crew training accelerated by high tech capabilities?

.The high-tech capabilities help: with good AI and lots of robotics, including nanotech self-repair capabilities, they have been able to cut down a lot on maintenance and time spent in the yards for that. On the other hand, while high tech does speed up crew training in some respects (tachydidactics, mnemonesis, etc., making it easy to absorb lots of raw data), there’s both a lot more of it to absorb than there has been before, and there’s a distinct limit to how much you can speed up simulations.

My subject-to-some-possible-revision current view is that they try to keep up a 2-for-1 rotation, one deployed and one in dock refitting and training, made possible mostly by the reduced maintenance burden; and that while deployed, the crew spend a lot of off-time in additional training and keeping current with simulations. But this may change once I find time to spend more time on the IN’s inner workings.

Handwavium: Muon Metals

A reader recently asked the relevant question: how do they stabilize the muons in muon metals, muons not being known for their stability, and when binding metals together, not exactly capable of being stabilized by moving at very high fractions of c, either?

Well, that would be space magic!

(Alas. But with sufficient futureward advancement, SFnal hardness inevitably becomes SFnal firmness.)

Which is to say, so far as I know, there isn’t a known process to do it. (Unless the people who claim that muons should be stable in electron-degenerate matter, like white dwarf material, due to Fermi suppression [the lack of free quantum states to accomodate the decay electron] are correct, but there are good reasons to suspect that they aren’t.)

What lets them do it is another by-product of ontotechnology – hinted at in this reference to a “boser” – that enables mucking about with the bosons that mediate the weak interaction, rendering the stuff stable or at least metastable by oh-look-a-furious-handwave means. If it can be done in reality, it’ll require a whole lot more knowledge of quantum flavordynamics than we have right now, at least.

(Side digression: I like to think that this and its general treatment illustrates what I consider one of the guiding principles of “firm SF”, as I call it. It is acceptable to invoke a little handwavium to generate your unobtainium, but having done it, your unobtanium will-by-Jove follow the laws of physics as they would apply to it. Hence my trying to figure out what exactly hypothetical muon metals would look like, why tangle channels absolutely do violate causality, etc., etc. Just because it’s not currently possible and may be absolutely impossible doesn’t mean that it’s magical, and certainly doesn’t mean that it’s inconsistent.)

Trope-a-Day: My Sensors Indicate You Want To Tap That

My Sensors Indicate You Want To Tap That: Well, yes, because sensor technology – including the inborn kind – is very, very good.  Even better than most people’s ability to control their kinesic tells or remember to run their face-saving programs.  Fortunately, being members of an extremely polite society, Imperials are good at discretion.

Trope-a-Day: My Country Right Or Wrong

My Country Right Or Wrong: Subverted somewhat, inasmuch as not merely the right but also the obligation to overthrow any Imperial government which defaults from the Contract or the Charter is not merely a theoretical issue, but what they teach in civics class in much the same way as in the Military Service they teach recruits about the necessity of disobeying illegal orders and arresting (but reference also: Kill It With Fire) anyone who tries to give them.

Having said that, it is relatively common for people to hold this attitude with regard to many actions said government takes as long as it does so within the approved confines of the Contract and the Charter – but then, it doesn’t do much at all, so there’s still not a great deal that can be reasonably complained about.  And private actions are, of course, entirely off limits.

The Incidental Problems of Handwavial Correctness

Today’s vexing aesthetic physics of handwavium problem:

INASMUCH as the energy levels and resulting orbitals of muon-proton atoms are completely different from those of electron-proton atoms –

WELL, obviously, or what would be the point in making muon metals in the first place –

AND INASMUCH as this makes muon-photon interactions differ remarkably from electron-photon interactions, thus changing radically the emission spectrum and other optical properties from their electronic equivalent –

WHAT do the blasted things look like?

(It is on those mornings when I find myself contemplating this before my first cup of coffee, inasmuch as said metals are a vitally important and visible component of a hypothetical fusion torch drive, that I have some sympathy for the technobabble approach to doing things. Somehow, I doubt the Star Trek writers ever had to deal with this sort of thing…)

Please Stand Clear And Gape In Awe

“They’re not aerodynamic, you know. Landing a Drake on a respectably-sized planet is not what you might call an elegant operation. It involves aerobraking hard to shed most of her velocity, flipping her around once you’ve lost enough of it and balancing her down on her tail with the main drives, then finishing off with a rather graceless belly-flop once you’ve achieved zero velocity at zero altitude.”

“The next item on the checklist customarily involves a sigh of relief, a shot of whiskey, and a change of pants.”

– Sailing Master Lt. Galenyi “Scorcher” Janaris-ith-Janaris,
Imperial Navy

The Drake: Revealed

So let’s talk about the layout of that mainstay of the Imperial fleet, the Drake-class frigate. (The numbers are for deck plans. My own sketches are far too horrible to publish, but… well, there they are.)

External

Like most starships, one could conveniently divide the Drake-class into a pressure hull and a drive bus. It’s a little harder to spot the connection than it is on many ships (like, say, the Cheneos-class freighter) because of the armor, but it’s still there.

The pressure hull is, essentially, the front half of the ship, a round-fronted, slightly-flattened cylinder, for the most part unbroken in its organic curves except for the few openings (stellarium, gun port, airlocks) mentioned below, for the six geodesic spheres – three on each side, arranged fore-to-aft along the mid-line – clamped to the hull, which contain redundant sensor suites, best not placed inside the armor, the four paired cheek-mounted light mass drivers to for’ard, the ship’s secondary weapons, and an antenna suite projecting from the dorsal pressure hull near its after end.

Behind this, the pressure hull stops, but the armor which covers it continues on past the aftmost pressure bulkhead, broadening the hull to port and starboard even as it narrows into the starship’s stubby “wings”. (Which are of course not wings – they’re the secondary radiators; double-sided radiative striping under transparent light armor, encapsulating more bunker space. These are considered the secondary radiators because they’re designed to carry only the life-support and low-power heat load.) The armor back here serves as a cowl wrapping around the propulsion bus, which is the usual tangle of structural trusses, cryocels (for the ship’s limited supply of afterburner antiprotons), spherical and cylindrical tanks (for deuterium/He3-slush fuel and heat-sink goo), auxiliary machinery, and at the aftmost end of that (such that the bunkerage provides additional shielding for the crew), the fusion torches sticking out the open back of the cowl.

(This is, of course, a weak spot in the starship’s armor, but such would the drives be wherever you put them. In practice, the argument goes, when you’re in the furball – well, million-degree drive plasma provides a poor approach vector even for a kinetic weapon, and when you’re not – well, just watch where you point your kilt, okay?)

The external parts of the primary radiators sit on top of and below the cowl; they’re liquid-metal droplet radiators, which extend perpendicular to the secondaries when in use. They’re intended to support full power-and-some-more on the reactors, such that you can make a fast retreat and chill down your heat sinks at the same time.

The lowest deck extends, squared-off and flat-bottomed, a little below the main body of the pressure hull and extends back some way below the cowl; as the large doors at front and aft would indicate, it’s the landing bay.

The hull itself is gorgeous in shimmering military indigo; naturally, leading edges and other salient points are highlighted in intricate swirls of embedded gold-filigree brightwork, just because the IN can and wishes to emphasize that small point. (Close inspection will also note the apertures of attitude-control system thrusters, especially to outboard for the largest moment arms, and scattered black, glassy domes concealing the point-defense laser grid.)

Internal

Internally, the Drake has five decks dorsal-to-ventral. It uses the classic belly-lander arrangement because it’s considered possible to land a frigate planetside, or at least small-planet-side, or operate in atmosphere. (In the latter case, under the “with sufficient thrust, pigs fly just fine” principle.) Frigate captains rarely want to, though.

Despite that, there’s no artificial gravity on a Drake; while in space, the starship operates in microgravity.

Communication between decks is provided by a pair of elevators/shafts running between decks 1 to 4, and a staircase providing access to deck 0, along with various maintenance ladderways and such (especially in engineering). The elevators don’t run under microgravity conditions; they’re only for use under gravity. Rather, the elevator car is open-topped and is locked down on deck 4 in flight, allowing the shafts to be used as any other passageways.

As far as possible, auxiliary machinery, further storage tanks, etc., are wrapped around the outside of the ship, between the decks and the hull, to use as additional protection in the event of an armor-penetrating strike.

Deck 0

Deck 0, “the loft” is the smallest deck, squeezed in between the ceiling of deck 1 and the hull. Fortunately, it contains (for the most part) spaces which will be unmanned at general quarters or higher readiness states.

Specifically, at the fore end, there’s (1) the captain’s cabin, including a small office and private ‘fresher, from which a central corridor runs aft past (2) and (3), VIP staterooms which include the ‘fresher but not the office, ending at (4) the auxiliary sensory and communications room (approximately beneath the antenna suite mentioned above. Outside this room, a foldaway spiral staircase (i.e. serving as a microgravity shaft in flight) descends to the main corridor of deck 1.

Deck 1

Deck 1 is the first of the three “main” decks of the pressure hull.

Starting from the for’ard end, we begin with (5) the stellarium, which is literally the only room on the ship with windows, of which it has a continuous strip around the periphery and overhead. It also, being intended to entertain visitors and provide somewhere to get away from inside for a moment, comes with comfortable microgravity-adaptive seating, a few potted plants, and a wet bar.

More important for military purposes, while the windows are tough, they aren’t that tough, and as such the armor layer passes comfortably behind it, and access is through a sequential pair of spacetight doors. Naturally, it’s unmanned at general quarters or higher.

Behind this, another central corridor runs aft past (6), a conference lounge to port, and (7) an office for ship’s business – usually the Flight Administrator’s domain – to starboard, reaching the for’ard entrance to (8) the bridge/CIC, which takes up the full width of the ship in the center of the deck.

The aft entrance to the bridge/CIC opens into a second central corridor, this time passing (9), the server room containing the ship’s primary “dumb” servers and avionics systems to port, and (10), the ship’s AI’s cogence core and primary mentality substrate to starboard, terminating in a five-way junction containing the access to deck 0. To port and starboard, a cross-corridor terminates at the elevators/shafts, each with a ‘fresher located adjacent; aft, a door provides access to (11) the maneuvering room, in the form of a well-insulated gallery overlooking (12) the engineering space, which spans all three main decks.

(Secure backups for the cogence core and the substrate also exist buried in the middle of the propulsion bus section.)

Deck 2

Deck 2 is the central deck of the ship, and to a large extent is divided into two non-communicating parts. As a frigate, the Drake-class is built around its main gun, which occupies the axis of the ship and thus the center of the deck. While access is possible to the mass driver chamber (which can even be pressurized, with the gun port in the bow closed, for maintenance), it’s normally kept evacuated and is not, in any case, a very comfortable place to be.

The mass driver runs down the center of the deck from the gun port at the bow to (13) its “breech”, which sits directly against the engineering space bulkhead. Straddling it on either side are (14), the magazines for its k-slugs, which are also kept evacuated under normal conditions for ease of autoloader operation.

Starting this time from the aft end of the ship, at far port and starboard against the engineering bulkhead are the elevators/shafts and the associated adjacent ‘freshers, and the accesses directly to the engineering space. Corridors lead forward from these against the inner hull until they pass the magazines, at which point they turn inwards to reach, and proceed to the bow against, the central mass driver (for ease of accessing the driver coils for maintenance from these corridors).

On the port side, the majority of the space for’ard of this corridor is given over to (15) the medical bay, and at its for’ard end (16), the nano/cryostorage unit, used both for patients in need of return to fuller hospital facilities and doubling as the ship’s brig.

(It should be noted that the medical facilities are quite limited; the nature of the space combat environment is such that the window between “fine” and “chunky salsa” is quite narrow, and as such the medical bay is oriented more toward treating illness and minor injuries among the crew than it is to handling massive combat casualties.)

On the starboard side, the equivalent space is used for (17), a combined laboratory, workshop, and engineering support area.

The remainder of the space for’ard of these, behind the avionics area at the bow, contains the equivalent of two small rooms on either side (18, 19, 20, 21), connected by double spacetight doors; this is the modular function area. With sufficient engineering support and at a yard, these independently-encapsulated areas are designed to be disconnected from the ship’s infrastructure and framework, pulled out as a whole – along with their associated outer-hull plate and armor – and replaced with other modular capsules of equivalent specification. This feature permits the Drake-class to be customized for special functions – such as the electromagnetic radiation shielding we saw at the Battle of Eye-of-Night – much more flexibly than would otherwise be possible.

As mentioned, main access to the (12) engineering space is on this deck, although catwalks lead up and down to the lower level and to the maneuvering room gallery. The nearer part of the engineering deck contains a variety machinery, although also housing to port and starboard the two auxiliary fusion plants used to provide power to the starship when the drive is shut down. Beyond it, a half-octagon wraps around the bulk of the vector-control core and the reaction wheels, containing in their own sections the (22) life support systems to port, and the (23) robot hotels for the ship’s mechanicals to starboard.

Amidships between these, a small airlock and external robot hotel provides access to an unpressurized maintenance crawlway running through the propulsion bus. Normally, this is only used by robots or for occasional yard maintenance; radiation levels are unhealthy back there with the drive running, to say the least, but access may be necessary in emergencies.

Deck 3

Deck 3 is primarily the crew deck. At the for’ard end, along the centerline, is the (24) mindcast receiving room, allowing visitors received as infomorphs to borrow one of the ship’s spare bodies for the duration of their visit; aft of that, a cross-corridor links the (25) port and (26) starboard airlocks, each of which is accompanied by a small conning station (usually disabled) for use while docking.

Aft of that, another small room serves as a quarterdeck/reception area and security post. From there, a central corridor leads aft through the (27) crew quarters – the corridor itself is lined with access hatches to what are, in effect, double-sized personnel capsules – to the (28) comfortably furnished mess deck, which incorporates a (29) standing galley to port, and the (30) ship’s locker to starboard. Beyond the mess deck, hatches to port and starboard – a design choice permitting a large screen to be mounted on the mess deck’s after bulkhead – lead through inner-hull-hugging corridors past the (31) accumulator room to port, and the (32) auxiliary control room and (33) a small gymnasium to starboard, to another cross-corridor against the engineering bulkhead, providing access to the elevators/shafts and the ‘freshers on this level. However, there is no routine access to the engineering space on this deck.

Deck 4

Deck four, slung beneath the ship, is primarily its (33) landing bay; one large space, extending fore to aft. Space is reserved at port for the (34) armory, used to equip shore parties if necessary, and at starboard for a (35) second workshop space. These are each located for’ard of the elevators/shafts which open into a small hallway offering access both to these, and to an airlock opening into the landing bay. There are no associated ‘freshers on this deck.

A Drake-class frigate is typically equipped with a single cutter, an interface vehicle, or both; the relatively large landing bay permits it to also store the frigate’s complement of drones, and to serve as a cargo bay to such extent as space permits. Overhead manipulators permit vehicles to be moved to engage with either the fore or aft mass catapult for launching, reshuffling of the cargo, or retasking of the cutter, as desired.

Flight operations are handled from the bridge/CIC. The bay can be pressurized with both doors closed, but at general quarters or higher readiness states operates unpressurized to expedite operations and avoid unnecessary risks.

(For those paying attention to the implications: yes, the very same vector control tech that lets you make kinetic barriers lets you make nice air curtains that would hold air in even with the door open, while still letting you fly in and out. [Well, mostly: for molecular statistical reasons, they leak, but it’s manageable.] Some civilian ships use those for the convenience. Military ships prefer not to have unexpected depressurization incidents when someone gets a lucky shot in on the emitters when they don’t have to. Sure, it’s a pain to have to wear a skinsuit all the time, but you’re in the Navy now! Also, you’re less likely to get brained by a flying spanner if there were to be a curtain oops.)

Trope-a-Day: Multicultural Alien Planet

Multicultural Alien Planet: Well, I try.  In practice, it varies by species, depending on how much time I’ve spent detailing them in particular, but they’re all intended to be this way, outside the odd Hive Mind, or other special cases like the Equality Concord.

As another note, this is mostly true of homeworlds, and true of colonies to a much lesser extent. While homeworlds have usually had plenty of time to evolve regional cultural differences in the absence of high-speed communications, later colonies have generally had those homogenizing their cultures from day one.  Between colony worlds, though, you can find the same sort of cultural delta.

Editing Status Four

First-pass: 400 pages (complete).

Second-pass: ~160 pages.

Formatting: 75 pages.

Cover art: aaaaaaaaaaa!

(Which is to say, man, I wish I hadn’t planned the release of this book during the slowest time of this business year, in which I can’t squeeze stock photography out of the budget, never mind commissioning custom art of the Drake-class frigate.

Whose deck layout I am still sketching out this morning, because… well, maybe someday.)

Trope-a-Day: Multi-Armed and Dangerous

Multi-Armed and Dangerous: Well, I’ve mentioned the Eight-Legged Legion of octopus uplifts before, for a start, but even the people with humanoid morphology have received the ambidexterity and multitasking upgrades required to at least dual-wield.  (A lot of the spacer clades have switched from the two-arms-two-legs model to the four-arms model, but the need to hang on to something to avoid action-reaction problems when shooting don’t make this as useful as it sounds for this purpose.

It’s still largely averted beyond that and the other naturally multi-armed species, though, because while you can – and some people do – add extra arms over and above one’s natural endowment, you can get much the same effect with even more flexibility by slaving a bunch of quasi-autonomous battle-drones to your neural interface, or occupying a swarm-bodied cybershell, which will not only let you have plenty of “arms” to fight with – just not restricted by being attached to you at one end – it’ll let you surround the enemy personally, too.

Contextual Discomfort

Just to clarify one point on that last:

There are various things in their context that I’d be a lot more uncomfortable with in ours. I wouldn’t trust pretty much any Earth/human government with a legal system like theirs, or ubiquitous public surveillance, or the whole concept of an iatropsychic branch, to name but three. 

But their context is different: the people are different, the institutions and safety-checks – like being overseen by a benevolent weakly-godlike collective-consciousness, for one – are different, and the entire cultural philosophy is different. 

So were I *there*, my views would differ.