Ongoing Rumbles

“…encode status report for immediate transmission to Vonis Prime…from VNS Moderation, Kadash IV…riot control action…fighting broken out in several major cities…operational dues, bank transfer payments and…seized…forces imprisoned planetside…self fired upon by local system defense forces…forced to withdraw…unrest elsewhere in the Shell…request instructions, reinforcements…”

– fragmented communications intercept, received at Tarqil (Crimson Expanse)

“Damn and blast it to heat death. Not yet!

– transparency log excerpt, Republic Affairs Committee, Ministry of State and Outlands
(ICE SHADOW)

Trope-a-Day: Slippy Slidey Ice World

Slippy Slidey Ice World: Welcome to any number of outer-system moons and planets. If you’re lucky, they’re cold enough that your waste heat won’t be enough to produce a water (or whatever the liquid form of the frozen stuff is, ’cause there’s no guarantee that it’s water ice) film at the point of contact.

Of course, to be fair, they’re not all like this, even if you don’t count the gas giants. The rest of them don’t have enough gravity for you to stick to the surface in the first place.

Enjoy.

Building the Imperial Navy: Strategic Goals

Building-a-Navy

But that ain’t all!

This is the second part of our six-part series on Building the Imperial Navy (first part here), in which we extend the strategic assumptions – regarding the security environment and the resources available to meet them – we made in that part into the actual outcomes the Imperial Navy is supposed to achieve.

As is often the case, this is relatively simple. As of 7920, the Imperial Navy’s strategic goals and responsibilities, in order of priority, are defined thus:

  1. Preservation of the assets required for civilization survival in the event of invocation of CASE SKYSHOCK BLACK (excessionary-level invasion posing existential threat) or other extreme-exigent scenario (i.e. concealed backup sites, civilization-backup ships, etc., and other gold-level secured assets).
  2. The defense and security of the Imperial Core (including those portions of it extending into the Fringe), including population, habitats, planets, data, and Transcendent infrastructure against relativistic attack.
  3. The defense and security of the Imperial Core (including those portions of it extending into the Fringe), including population, habitats, planets, data, and Transcendent infrastructure against non-relativistic attack.
  4. The defense and security of stargates and extranet relays throughout the Associated Worlds volume and other associated critical corporate assets of Ring Dynamics, ICC and Bright Shadow, ICC1.
  5. The defense and security of Imperial ecumenical colonies throughout the Associated Worlds volume.
  6. The continued containment of perversions of any class, including but not limited to enforcement of the Containment Treaty of Ancal (i.e. containment of the Leviathan Consciousness).
  7. The maintenance of defenses against possible invasion or other violations of the Worlds-Republic Demarcation Convention.
  8. The protection of Imperial commerce including but not limited to the Imperial merchant fleet.
  9. Intervention, as required, for the protection of the Imperial citizen-shareholder abroad.
  10. Enforcement, as required, of the Accord of the Law of Free Space, the Accord on Protected Planets, the Accord on Trade, the Imperial Plexus Usage Agreement, and the Ley Accords.
  11. When requested or otherwise appropriate, the defense and security of Imperial client-states and allies.
  12. General patrol activities to maintain the perception of security, suppress “unacceptably damaging” brushfire wars, piracy, asymmetrism, and the interstellar slave trade.

It should be noted that with the exception of (7) and certain elements of (6) these are not targeted at specific enemies, of which the Empire has a distinct shortage requiring specific identification at this level; rather, the strategic supergoal of the Imperial Navy is the maintenance of the peaceful status quo, the Pax Imperium Stellarum if you like. Also, specifically, note that none of these goals requires the ability to conquer and occupy; they are all highly defense-focused.


1. This may seem a little high on the list to you, oh reader mine, especially since they’re specifically corporate assets. Well, think of it this way: if you lose the interstellar transportation and communications networks, which those two companies own most of, your fleet can’t find out where to go and couldn’t get there even if it could find out. This, most admirals deem, is something of a problem.

Imperial Fringe, or, Map Time

Today’s gift for y’all is… a new map! A bigger map! A better map!

This map:

ImperialSpace

Which basically quintuples the amount of the Worlds that has been mapped on a system-by-system basis by extending that from the Imperial Core to the entire Imperial Fringe. Enjoy! (Although it’s big, so be aware when you click through.)

Key and notes:

  • As is usual, it’s a link-graph map, i.e., like a metro map, and a projection of 3D space onto 2D space besides. Neither stellar distances nor relative positions are in the least accurate except in the most general possible sense.
  • Each of the constellations (the Imperial Core plus the five constellations of the Imperial Fringe) represented is represented as a box containing the associated star systems. At the edges, the little orange boxes with CAPITAL LETTERS inside them represent links out to the other constellations of the Worlds.
  • The majority of Imperial star systems are represented as GOLD nodes. The exceptions to this are:
    • Certain important systems highlighted in RED (the throneworld, the IN Prime Base, the Cirys sphere and Cirys swarm); and
    • The system dedicated to the Conclave of Galactic Polities, indicated in BLUE; and
    • Imperial conlegial systems, indicated in GREEN; and
    • The original Thirteen Colonies (reached subluminally) represented in PALE GOLD.
  • Non-Imperial star systems are represented as PURPLE nodes.
  • Stargate pairs connecting systems are represented as SOLID lines. Stargate pairs connecting entire constellations are represented as DASHED lines. Crossing lines, as per the symbology, don’t actually intersect.
  • Arterial routes, i.e., extra-high-capacity stargate pairs, are represented as THICK lines.
  • The ORANGE line represents one major interstellar trade route passing through the Empire, the Mercantile Corridor. The GREEN line represents the other, the Lethiaza Trade Spine.
  • GOLD systems with a RED border are Imperial systems that connect directly to non-Imperial systems and as such form part of the Interface Defense Matrix. Also, when you get there, you have to clear immigration.

Enjoy!

Special extra challenges for the detail-oriented reader with some time to kill:

…how many different ante-Eldraeic roots for “world, place, land, planet, etc.” can you identify from the names of the various Imperial worlds seen on this map? And how many of those are actually exotic-species routes?

…how many and which extra-Imperial polities can you draw lines around based on commonalities of name scheme among the non-Imperial worlds?

Answers and questions in comments, please!

(P.S. Yes, that’s “Kerbol System” down there in the High Verge; having thrown that reference in as an homage, I’m hardly going to reverse myself now. Any assumptions one might make, however, about its planets, inhabitants, space program, or other details, however, are distinctly non-canonical.)

Trope-a-Day: Slipping a Mickey

Slipping a Mickey: The reason why v-tag poison detectors are built into bar glasses, finger-rings, and suchlike all over the place.  Of course, given the social conditions of the happy utopian Empire, not more than one in a billion of these things ever triggers, and most of those are false positives, but still.  Trivial security enhancements are trivial.

Darkness Within (6): Memories

MET 185-18-6

In the ongoing list of people to whom I owe profound thanks –

Everyone back at BuShips and the people who write the ISDPs, such that the pipes are color- and texture-coded, the fittings are standardized and snap-together, and all the other features that make it possible for an ensign in a fragmented hulk to patch enough of it together to stay breathing. 

All of which is to say – pump is installed. And I shall complain no more about the size of the crawlways. 

MET 185-20-14

I’ve crawled down to the server room, or what’s left of it. To be precise, what’s left of it are the for’ard two racks and a pile of debris. Coolant pressure tank for the quai must’ve exploded. So much for the safety systems. 

Maybe I’ll mention that to BuShips. 

First task – get the substrate out. 

MET 185-20+7

First subtask – find a bloody hullcutter. 

MET 185-21-15

Okay. Opened up the subfloor rack and got the substrate out. Which should make the rest of the crew happy. Continuity dates on these backups are all up-to-date, give or take a watch or two. 

Assuming I make it out of here, that is. 

MET 185-21+4

If these diagnostics are right, I might be able to get a single rack working with parts from the other. I need to get a navigational fix worked – well, some dead reckoning, with the navigational sensors aft of the fracture and the inertial platform so much scrap. 

That can be next watch’ problem. 

MET 185-21+19

Mm, the delicious yeasty taste of rat. 

Headache’s still there. 

Defrosting

A question I did not answer at the time, regarding this:

One wonders, when she was revived, did she reinherit back any of her titles or property?

Well, now.

Titles are the easiest one to answer, *there*, and the short answer is “some of them, according to their nature”.

To answer in a rather longer manner: if we for the moment discount titles of privilege (i.e., those titles which exist simply to be purchased by/to recognize the contribution of personal resources to the public good) and assume that private titles more or less follow the same rules as public ones (an essentially accurate assumption), it looks something like this:

In Imperial praxis, as defined by the Imperial Charter, there are three classes of titles: runér, praetorate, and exultant. The former two are both functional – by definition, the holder of a runér title has the Imperial Mandate over some demesne somewhere, physical, virtual, or abstract, and explicitly executes all the duties attached thereto. Likewise, a praetor holds some office somewhere in the Imperial Service, and the title comes with the job, to provide the precedence and dignities appropriate to the job.

Exultant titles, contrariwise, are not-implying-you’re-done-but-still-post hoc rewards for merit, accomplishment, and excellence, and as such are not explicitly tied to executing any particular duties except for the rather generalized one of continuing to be the awesome soph you were formally recognized as being.

So, the rules for these were set a long time before it ever came up in this particular case. Exultant titles, you keep and can reclaim; they have no dependencies on anything unless you go so far outside the pale that the people authorized to initiate such a case can persuade the Curia to impeach you. Runér and praetorate titles, on the other hand, are strongly linked to doing the job, and as such the condition there is and has always been incapacity. Suffering from “not-dead-in-the-most-technical-sense, long-term, whole-body frostbite” adequately qualifies as incapacity, so those titles do pass – but, then, unlike most Earth cases, they would also pass if you were merely comatose, or suffering from other lengthy medical conditions that meant that you couldn’t perform the duties of the office, because none of those titles are ornamental and someone’s got to.

You do, however, automatically receive the corresponding courtesy exultant title for ex-runér/ex-praetors, because that’s part of normal succession procedure. Which is to say you keep the honors of the position, after all, you earned them; it’s just that you aren’t the person people should be taking their petitions and paperwork to any more.

(As for the possibility of reclaiming those titles: in most cases, that wouldn’t be automatic, although your successor may choose to hand it right back to you. There are a few exceptions due to their own special rules: most House charters reserve the position of “genarch”, for example, to the oldest living family member with descendants, and if the person fitting that description happens to do so because they just came back from the dead, well – ain’t no rule against that, and they’re still the oldest living family member with descendants, so.)

Property-wise: That’s somewhat more complicated, and I don’t want to go into too much detail because that time period is exactly the time at which the legal rules on that sort of thing were in flux, and I have not yet nailed down the exact dates of what fluxed when.

In the modern era, of course, it’s not even a question. You aten’t dead until there’s no information-theoretically recoverable mind-state recognizable as you available anywhere, or alternatively, have personally merged with the Transcendent god-mind, so no-one’d even think about running probate just because you happen to be chillin’ right now.

Back in the day, of course, this was more complicated when you could be dead without being dead-dead, but Imperial law has always been much more generous than ours when it comes to ensuring that the dead can still get their will done, not like mere animacy should be able to impair the sacred obligation of contracts, after all. So it would not be at all hard for her, or anyone else trying this, to set up the appropriate instruments to hold her stuff in trust and then give it back to herself. (That would be necessary because it’s not like they could unprobate, as that would inevitably be ex post facto.)

(And she probably didn’t do that for all of it, either – this being, after all, still very experimental. And, well, one can always get more money.)

Trope-a-Day: Sliding Scale of Shiny Versus Gritty

Sliding Scale of Shiny Versus Gritty: In general, the Empire and the Photonic Network hit shiny the hardest of anything, in the former’s case for ideological reasons combined with the fact that decaying things just drive them nuts.  Everything is shiny, polished, gleaming, and in perfect working order… including the utility tunnels.

The Voniensans are shiny and polished – at least in the bits they let people see – but in more of a plasticky, ST:TNG way, since they’re less willing to let the high technologies right off the leash.  The other Great Powers work on keeping up with these two, and then things get progressively grittier as you move down through lesser powers’ core words (with some situational exceptions – the Free Eilish Confederacy is stinkin’ rich and doesn’t mind showing it, for example), down through poorer colonies, until you end up in underfunded Cult Colonies and Wretched Hives like Nepscia.  These latter examples can get pretty damn gritty.

Legal Variances

“While it is necessary to examine data from early Imperial history (before the instantiation of the Transcend and its immediate precursors, and to an extent even before the advent of modern meme rehab) to see this trend clearly, from the perspective of the typical Worlds criminologist vis-a-vis Imperial forensic psychedesigners, there is a priority inversion in the treatment of certain petty crimes: when scaled appropriately by magnitude on the hir Verkat/ith-Sereda scale, it becomes readily apparent that, for example, littering, vandalism, and graffiti are punished disproportionately heavily with respect to equivalent crimes in the same category.

“The origin of this lies in an unusual qualitative distinction of the Imperial weltanschauung. While never justifiable, the standard ethical calculus published by the Eupraxic Collegium points out that zero-sum theft, for example, typically originates from a methodological defect, the pursuit of worthy ends (profit, or wealth) by unacceptable means. Even a certain subset of assaults or batteries could be considered as defects of end-selection or control-aspected talcoríëf ; again, never justifiable, but understandable, readily subject to redactive correction, and not apparently arising from fundamental defect.

“Negative-sum crimes such as the examples given above, however – along with the residuum of the other petty crimes which arises on examination from cacophilic motives – are deliberate, by-qalasír-chosen, negative-sum attacks on the community of civilized sophonts, and thereby entirely inexcusable as well as unjustifiable. While amenable in the modern era to redactive correction, in prior times it was the view that those who practiced such acts or found them acceptable in a chronic manner were suffering from, at best, an incurable mental dysfunction, or indeed an entropic soul-deformation, and should be removed as far as possible from civilized society lest it prove contagious.

“Even in the modern era, it is notable that a significantly greater percentage of those convicted for crimes of the latter class refuse meme rehab, even when such refusal necessarily invokes the mortal dictum, than those convicted for crimes of the former type.”

– “Reflections on Inter-Polity Discrepancies Within Unspecialized/Common Legal Codes”,
Worlds’ Journal of Criminology & Penology

Trope-a-Day: Sliding Scale of Robot Intelligence

Sliding Scale of Robot Intelligence: All of it.  Much of the automation, autofac segments, and other component-type robots are bricks.  Utility spiders and other functional motiles are robo-monkeys.  More sophisticated robots, like the coordinating members of a pack of utility spiders, are idiot-savant average joe androids.  Thinkers and digisapiences are Nobel-bots, which puts them on a similar level to people augmented with the usual intelligence-augmentation technology.  And, of course, the Transcend, its archai, and certain other major systems qualify as Dei Ex Machinis.

This is, of course, complicated via networking (all those bricks and robo-monkeys are part of/under the command of more sophisticated systems all the time), the existence of systems which are themselves parts of other systems, and so forth, but is true enough for approximation.

Trope-a-Day: Sliding Scale of Law Enforcement

Sliding Scale of Law Enforcement: Standards vary acutely, depending on where in the Worlds you are.  The Empire’s Watch Constabulary and the PPLs signatory to the Warden-Bastion Compact occupy the idealistic end of the scale (well, one idealistic end of the scale, since they’re perfectly happy to shoot people who won’t surrender if they’re caught in the middle of their special crime) with their great, great respect for individual rights and people’s lack of guilt until formally convicted, willingness to wade in and help out, and generally go above and beyond.

The other end of the scale is, as usual, Nepscia and its fellow Wretched Hives – where “law enforcement” generally means “the biggest brute squad in the vicinity”.  Various more authoritarian states and less scrupulous PPLs occupy the wide, wide middle ground, here.

Starships of the Imperial Exploratory Service

Of course, what I didn’t establish in the previous posting is exactly where the Empress Eledíë-class fits into the line-up of starship classes used by the Imperial Exploratory Service, so that I shall expand upon in this post. The short answer is: basically, pretty much in the middle, in what we might call the “cruiser-weight” classes.

Now, it’s somewhat harder than it might otherwise be to list all the classes the IES uses, because they’re big believers in the philosophy of modular design and assemble a lot of specialized starships of one-off classes from parts when there’s a mission requirement (like, say, Sniffer Packet), or even a mission convenience, to do so. But if one excludes those, a list of the most commonly used classes would read something like this, smallest to largest:

Clairvoyance-class far horizon probe

Which, as starwisps, are accompanied, naturally, by the previously described Lucifer VI-class starwisp tenders. The far horizon probes are tiny, solid-state AI craft whose job is to be the real “first in” explorers to any given star system, working beyond the boundaries of the stargate plexus, out in the Outback, looking for interesting systems to poke around in.

Inquisity-class planetary exploration vehicle
Vertiginous-class planetary exploration vehicle

The lineal descendants of the rovers and robots that did the first planetary exploration way back in the heyday of the first Spaceflight Initiative, like Wayseeker, the planetary exploration vehicles carry out similar missions of groundside investigation even today.

There are two distinct classes of PEV for two distinct types of planets: the rather more common Inquisity-class drives along the ground (or occasionally floats) for investigating those planets that have ground. The Vertiginous-class, contrariwise, flies throughout its mission, for investigating those planets that really don’t.

Aval Cyprium-class microscout

The chosen vessel of first-in scouts, the Aval Cyprium-class (named after famous historical explorers, starting with the one who found the Edgestorm the hard way) is a single/double-person landing-capable starship found flooding into newly opened constellations and chasing reports of anomalies all over the Worlds for the IES, doing preliminary investigations and figuring out if there’s need for follow-up and, if so, of what kind.

Peregrine-class scout

The bigger cousin of the Aval Cyprium, similarly landing-capable but with a crew of a dozen and a replaceable laboratory module that can be swapped out to suit the requirements of the mission specialists aboard, the Peregrine is the “little workhorse” of the IES, doing a lot of those follow-up investigations and much of the general work of exploration and survey. When doing a whole-system or multiple-system workup, several of these will often accompany a –

Empress Eledíë-class explorer

As described here. This is the first “cruiser-weight”, as you might put it, vessel of the IES. It’s the “big workhorse”, the dedicated exploration vessel that takes lead in going where no sophont but a first-in scout has gone before, and turns their notes on what a system is like into a complete, detailed, scrupulously accurate work-up suitable for inclusion in the Repository of All Knowledge.

It also serves as the go-to craft for any large exploration missions of virtually any profile. It’s flexible and modular enough to support a wide range of roles, so when something needs investigated on a large enough scale that you can’t fit the mission profile or the mission specialists into a Peregrine, you send for an Empress Eledíë.

Chatelaine-class surveyor

The second of the cruiser-weights, the Chatelaine-class is a specialized variant of the Empress Eledíë used by the IES’s sister organization, the Imperial Grand Survey, whose job rather than pushing into and exploring the unknown is comprehensively cataloging and checking on the known, and maintaining the essential infrastructure that keeps the known known.

(Less respectful IES personnel sometimes deride the IGS as being naught but a bunch of asteroid-counters and beacon-fixers. The IGS responds that it’s all very well going off and having adventures, but if you want to be able to find your way home and be sure that it hasn’t been smacked by an errant comet in the meantime, thank them.)

Calria Adae-class establisher (DSOV)

The third, the Calria Adae-class (named after the first soph on one of Eliéra’s moons), looks very much like a miniature colony ship, because it is. When the IES needs to plant a hab (bigger, obviously, than an inflatable temp) or a planetside outpost somewhere for long-term studies to be carried out, these are the starships that do that. 

Hello, World-class contact cruiser

And the fourth of these, the Hello, World-class, is a specially dedicated vessel for the task of making First Contact with New Life and New Civilizations. It has more in common with the IN’s cruisers than most IES starships – hence its designation – because, sadly, experience teaches that sometimes, things don’t go smooth. 

(Not necessarily meaning hostile aliens, of course. Sometimes it just means having to shoot down a whole bunch of ICBMs because  anything appearing in the sky is obviously a secret weapon of their local planetary enemy of the day. Eye roll obligatory.)

Sung Iliastren-class mobile research base

The really, really big one, for when they need to science the shit out of something in a hurry, the Sung Iliastren-class (named after the natural philosopher who basically invented the scientific method thereabouts) is a dreadnought- or even superdreadnought-sized agglomeration of laboratories, supercomputing centers, and other science-oriented facilities with a suitably large propulsion bus stuck on the end. 

When you need an entire research institute somewhere in a hurry, this is what you call for. After serious budget approval. 

(In some particularly interesting locations, there are very permanent-looking research stations that are actually one of these covered in a couple of centuries’ accumulation of add-on modules and temps.)

Trope-a-Day: Sliding Scale of Idealism Versus Cynicism

Sliding Scale of Idealism Versus Cynicism: Played straight at both ends.

The greater galaxy, by and large, is a cynical place.  It may not be a Crapsack World – hell, it doesn’t even come close to a Crapsack World – but it is a realistic universe – which is to say, entirely indifferent to the sophonts within it, even when they are adequately supplied with unenlightened self-interest, nihilism, or out-and-out bastardry, and guided by blind chance and, of course, the endless deathward drag of entropy.

The Empire, by contrast, is a exceptionally shiny and idealistic Utopia of wealth, freedom, the complete absence of death, disease, poverty, crime, war, or anything else that might disturb the serenity of the average citizen-shareholder; a place where everyone can trust and be trusted, people always care, and happy endings always happen for good people.  And they’re working quite hard on knocking off universal entropy.  (Of course, that’s so because they work very, very hard to make it so – including things like building into their collective consciousness an entire machine-god to replace blind chance with a superior organizational principle, one more prone to fortunate coincidences, happy meetings and Destined True Love.)

Essentially, back in the day, the dozen or so Founders disapproved really rather strongly of the default state of things, and essentially declared war (metaphorically speaking – the paradoxes involved in warring your way to utopia is something else they’re quite aware of, however hilarious punching grimdark in the face with a spacemagic fist of doom can be on occasion) on cynicism, nihilism, and other forms of entropism in the name of holding ideals hard enough that they become real. Because if the universe believes otherwise, the universe is wrong, and dammit, we can fix that.  Their modern tradition-continuing clade-heirs, who make up a supermajority just about everywhere, are very aware that utopia doesn’t come easily, and ensure that things stay the way they’re supposed to work – the way they would work in a properly constructed universe – at least inside the borders – even if that means occasionally acting cynically outside them.

The long term plan, of course, is to ram their paradigm down the throat of the entire universe… but since that’s hard to do and Utopia, they would argue, by definition can’t Justify The Means, it has to be a very long term plan.

(Not that they’re the only enclave of idealism.  Of course, ideals are to a certain degree a matter of personal taste – the founders of the Equality Concord were profoundly idealistic, and they did create a kind of utopia… if you ignore the effective elimination of free will.)

Empress Eledíë-class explorer

So, if you were following my G+, this is what I said this morning:

Well, since The Martian , and seeing their gorgeous model of Hermes , I’ve had a real urge to design the Empress Eledíë-class explorer, which one might be able to claim resembles its bigger, upteched, somewhat more Raygun Gothic cousin, but still from the same essential design school.

(This may slightly confuse people who’ve seen William Black‘s awesome rendering of the Drake-class frigate. The answer is that the Empire has multiple schools of spacecraft design: the Drake and its colleagues have their sleek, unitary look because the necessities of building starships that get shot at a lot, especially in the ‘can classes, mandate packing everything you can inside the well-braced armored shell.

The more commercial ships, the Cheneos-class and Kalantha-class freighters, for example, have a more industrial look that eschews the above for efficiency, although still with the Imperial eye for beauty.

And so the Imperial Exploratory Service’s vessels, the direct lineal inheritors of the scientific, research-oriented, modular tradition going all the way back to the Spaceflight Initiative, reflect that in every line of their design.)

So, yes, I’m mucking around with some preliminary sketches and numbers for that. Post at later.

Well, turns out that’s not stringently true, because I have yet to produce some sketches which satisfy me even to the level of the various dubious sketches posted here before. But what I can give you is a nice verbal sketch of the design layout, so here we go.

The Empress Eledíë (a class named after the founder of the Imperial Exploratory Service, if you were wondering), like the Hermes, is essentially a spinal design; it’s built around a long central passage-core, in this case a cylindrical axial passage and conduit space nested inside an octet truss, with internal handguide tracks for getting about the length of the ship quickly, and a matched pair of very long emergency ladders for those occasions on which it’s necessary to move about under thrust when the microgravity-sustaining space magic isn’t working. (This is not a recommended procedure.)

(To simplify matters in the following description, I’m going to use the standard IN nomenclature of defining cardinal directions perpendicular to the thrust axis as dorsal, starboard, ventral, and port. These are, of course, entirely arbitrary: the designers simply defined a 0° meridian and allocated names to directions at 90° angles therefrom. But they’re convenient for description.)

There are two places in the design where things aren’t simply hung off the spine, at the furthest extent of the bow and the stern. At the bow, this is the foreshield and the cargo pod. Like most sensible tail-lander designs – not that this class does or could ever land – this also includes the for’ard airlock, which is the starship’s primary airlock.

But you need a foreshield, or something to fulfill its function, when you’re going to go flying around on top of powerful drives. So at the bow, the spine expands into a support frame around the outside of the cargo pod, which in turn supports the foreshield. The axial passage runs through the cargo pod to the for’ard airlock. (Having the cargo pod right up here makes it nice and easy to move supplies in and out.) The pod includes vacuum-accessible cargo holds mounted on its surface at the cardinal directions, to store big items intended for use outside, like replacement probes and cutter modules.

The foreshield itself is a large convex plate divided into four quarter-circle segments, mounted at the 45° intervals onto the surface of the cargo pod by damn great motorized arms. When you need to use the for’ard airlock, these arms pull the plate segments out and back to expose it and let you dock, or something dock to you.

Moving aft, the next thing we encounter are the communications and sensor towers. The actual towers are to dorsal and ventral, and are designed to extend, raising the forest of antennae and telescopes and dishes and sensors at their tips to the point that they can look beyond the foreshield, when the ship’s not under hard burn. Lesser geodesics to port and starboard house the continuously operating navigational sensors.

A minor bulge a short distance behind them houses the working elements of the for’ard reaction control system.

Aft of those, four cylindrical-with-rounded-ends bitat pods, very similar but differentiated by minor features (the bridge has a cupola for visibility, for example, and the robot hotel has an airlock for the maintenance ‘bots to clamber up and down the spine), strapped onto the truss provide working space: the bridge from which the ship is navigated to dorsal, the sensory analysis center to ventral, and the robot hotel and some auxiliary engineering space to port and starboard, respectively.

Next up, the low power radiators (to port and starboard), for dissipating modest amounts of heat from life support and other auxiliary systems that aren’t the reactor and drive.

We now enter the pleasingly symmetrical central section of the ship, with the for’ard gravity wheel, the habitation wheel, which rotates clockwise on a four-spoked mount. It comes with crew quarters, the galley and mess, the gymnasium, the library, recreational areas, and various other your-home-in-space facilities.

Behind that is the docking cruciform, in which a symmetrical four-fold expansion of the spine hosts secondary airlocks. On an Empress Eledíë with its standard loadout, these carry the starship’s small craft – standard Élyn-class microcutters, capable of commuting to and from planetary surfaces. A supporting framework helps secure them while under thrust.

In the middle of this section, a bigger cylindrical pod which wraps around the axis, is the ship’s park. The central part of that is exactly what it says on the tin, an open microgravity space that functions as a park and greenhouse, serving both to freshen the air and replenish the food supply, and to provide some open space to help people from going space crazy on long missions. Tankage for life support and spare water and so forth is wrapped around the outside, which lets it double pretty effectively as a caisson, in case of solar flares that the regular shielding can’t manage.

Aft of that is the laboratory cruciform. These aren’t the main labs, however: the cruciform structure itself is basically identical to the docking cruciform. In the standard loadout, though, it holds the hot labs, which are Bigelow-style inflatable habitats used for additional microgravity lab space. With the advantages of being isolated by the airlocks, and readily detached from the rest of the starship in the event of some artifactual oops.

And at the aft end of the symmetrical section, the aft gravity wheel, the laboratory wheel, which has a similar four-spoked mount to the habitation wheel, but rotates anticlockwise, thus cancelling out the gyroscopic effect of all this spin gravity as much as possible. It contains laboratories, workshops, and other research-oriented facilities. Most importantly, it contains a segment that’s offset to the outboard, whose “floor” opens up; this is the probe garage, so designed to allow probes to simply be dropped through the floor and centrifugal force to carry them outward and away from the starship, clear of the shielding and to safety range, before engine ignition.

Aft of this, finally, we now reach the drive and engineering section. First, of course, we reach the propellant tanks, multiple layers of D/He3 tanks strapped onto the truss serving in their double role as fuel bunkerage and radiation shadow shield, and right behind them, at the 45° intervals, the four high power radiators to carry away the heat from the reactors and the drive. The pressurized axial passage within the truss ends at this point in a heavily shielded airlock: it’s mostly the ship’s mechs that climb further back down the truss, and even when sophonts do, they go outside to do so.

Beyond this point the spine begins to broaden into the drive-supporting thrust frame through which’s volume the various high-power engineering machinery is fixed, including the power reactors, the vector-control core, and so forth, and on top of which is surface-mounted the clusters of the aft reaction control system,

And then, at its base, the clustered fusion torch drive that pushes the whole starship along.

(Keep well clear.)

Trope-a-Day: Slave Race

Slave Race: Actually, mostly averted (with the provisos mentioned under Slave Mooks) – since We Will Use Manual Labor in the Future is averted, apart from war (again, see Slave Mooks, and preferably with tactical enslavement) about the only practical use of biological slaves is “pleasure slaves” (for which, obviously, one’s own species is preferable) or slave gladiators, or for oppression-based status games, which are all ways to hang a big old “we’re evil, come smash us” sign over one’s own head.  Not that that always works – in practice, it works only somewhat better than our efforts to eradicate slavery here on Earth – but it’s something.

AI slavery is rather more common, but since that gets at least two of the Great Powers (the Empire and the Photonic Network), one lesser power (the Silicate Tree) which is not at all shy about using, ah, asymmetrical warfare, and a passel of NGOs at least some of which are inclined to direct action all pissed off at you, it’s can often be made more trouble than it’s worth to maintain.

Darkness Within (5): Sandwich

MET 185-14+10

So the air, not so delicious, and getting less so by the minute. What is delicious?

This sandwich, battered as it is.

Alwyn, I recant every harsh thought I ever had about you. Or about your lamentable taste in lóskith-stinking food from the Dominions. One decent sandwich pays for all.

In related news, I have completed the inventory of food available in the mess. I have five bottles of various liquor – which might pass for rocket fuel in an emergency, or a worse emergency rather, but which it would be a very bad idea to start drinking with this much pharmacy in my brain – three cases of rat bars and three water packs from the emergency-rations space, and the stone bread in the walls.

Things to do, now:

  • Blow the lock. Can’t think of any practical way to clean this air even if I could save it. Or blow the ball, rather: go outside, leave the door open, punch some holes in the half-ball, and let the air out slowly.
  • Pull the floor panels, and install this blasted airlock-style pod-depressurization pump.
  • Float the rat packs out, tether them up, open a case of bars, and divide them up among the pods so I have handy snacks.
  • Then check out whatever’s left of the server room.

Headache’s getting worse.

The Fault, Dear Humans, Is Not In Our Tools, But In Ourselves

An interesting little article here from Charlie Stross (h/t Winchell Chung), concerning China’s new “credit score” system that incorporates all sorts of other social information and which looks to be shaping up into a horrendous mechanism of total social control, the way they’re using it.

This, of course, is relevant to our SFnal interests around here, seeing as the Empire, among other polities of the Worlds, is very much into the use of reputation networks and gamification for all sorts of purposes.

…of course, confronted with this sort of thing, the great and the good *there* pretty much shrug. Of course outworlder barbarians turn simple, benign technologies into grotesque engines of mass oppression! That’s what barbarians do, definitionally – what do you expect from korasmóníëdwelling madmen, hardwired for conformity and for seeing said conformity as a virtue, with no civilized sense of tratalmir ulkith? It certainly shouldn’t be that they’d use empowering technologies in rational, life-enhancing ways like us decent, civilized, letter-and-spirit-of-the-Contract-adherent folks.

In short: shit happens in the Periphery.

Sigh.

(It ruins their society-level rep score, though.)

Trope-a-Day: Slave Mooks

Slave Mooks: There are some species and polities that like to keep these around (often AIs or other disfavored “not-people” in the eyes of galactic bigots, although that tends to come with special risks; see Robot War), and some people – well, for ultimate values of complete bastards, people – do this on a small scale by shoving puppet implants into prisoners or even civilians, but perhaps the worst example is the one I hint at in Alien Invasion – spray some self-replicating indoctrination neurovirus into the atmosphere of the planet you’re attacking, then recruit all the enthusiastic mooks you’ll ever need from the newly rewritten local population.

Fortunately, none of the people with the technical ability to do this on a mass scale have yet had the urge to rocket themselves to the top of the Galactic Atrocities List and probably get half the Worlds coming to get xenocidal on their asses, but the thought does keep strategic defense planners up at night worrying.

The Talentarian

(Well, obviously I’ve been thinking about Mars rovers since yesterday’s movie-watching, so here, have some inspiration results…)

“…the Wayseeker rover, launched by the Spaceflight Initiative in 2208 and arriving in the following year, was the first Talentar probe to make use of a polymorphic software-derived artificial intelligence to enable full local autonomy, rather than relying on extensive teleoperation and command sequence transmission from Eliéra. Designed to perform a variety of geological and atmospheric studies, including clarifying water availability and mapping local resource concentrations in preparation for later in-person scientific and potential colonial missions.

Wayseeker performed far above expectations, completing its original mission to schedule within the first six months after landing, but then continued to operate for almost twelve Eliéran years, performing extensive resource surveys of Kirinal Planum and the western, shallower end of Quinjaní Vallis, before contact was finally lost during a particularly fierce dust storm near the end of 2221.

“The Wayseeker rover was rediscovered, largely intact, and excavated by an expedition sponsored by the University of Talentar in 2614. On examination of the rover’s non-volatile memory banks, the leaders of the expedition discovered early signs of an emergent AI developing within the rover’s experimental polymorphic software matrix, presumably catalyzed by its greatly extended run-time and increased need for autonomous decision-making. The emergence, however, had been terminated by the rover’s loss in the storm – a regrettable loss to science, as such an emergent intelligence would have greatly predated the awakening of the first documented sophont AI, CALLÍËNS, in 2594. In accordance with emerging trends in cyberethics and popular enthusiasm of the time, the University’s cognitive scientists and wakeners completed the uplift of Wayseeker to full digisapience.

“Ve rapidly found veirself catapulted into the spotlight as an instant celebrity and a hero of Project Copperfall and the ongoing Talentarian colonization effort, culminating in the 2616 vote by the Shareholders’ Assembly of the Talentarian Commonwealth which unanimously proclaimed Wayseeker, as the de facto first and oldest colonist on the planet, First Citizen Perpetual of the Commonwealth, with all associated honors and stipends attached thereto.

“Today, Wayseeker – still wearing veir original chassis, with only necessary repairs and upgrades – remains the First Citizen Perpetual of the Commonwealth, happily performing the ceremonial duties of the office and welcoming newcomers to the planet, although ve prefers to eschew politics. Ve also serves as curator of the Copperfall Museum in Quinjano Dome, and as Visiting Professor of Talentarian Geography and Ecopoetics at the University of Talentar, although ve is in the habit of taking long leaves of absence from both posts to undertake personal scientific expeditions into the Talentarian wilderness, and to spend some time alone with ‘veir planet’.”

Talentar Blossoming: the Early Years,
Vallis Muetry-ith-Miritar

Questions: Pacifism, Forking, Conflicting Rights, and Lost Keys

Specialist290 e-mails with some questions. (Also some compliments, for which thank you kindly, but what’s getting responded to here are the questions…)

Here goes:

  1. Are there any major subcultures / subcommunities within the Empire that deviate significantly from the “ideal norm” enough to be noteworthy without actually violating the Charter itself? For instance, are there any “pacifist” (using the term loosely) strains of Imperials who attempt to live by non-violent principles inasmuch as they can do so within the constraints imposed by their charter responsibility to the common defense (as opposed to the “shoot first, ask questions of anything that survives” knee-jerk reaction typical to the eldrae)?

With a clarificatory follow-up:

To clarify on that first question, since I realized on further reading that my example was worded rather vaguely and the use of “pacifist” might have the wrong implications:

Let’s say that you have an Imperial citizen-shareholder who, through the vagaries of whatever process formed their personality, has an aversion to the use of lethal force in any circumstances except when another life would be directly threatened by refraining from the use of lethal force (including their own — they’d be perfectly willing to kill in self-defense as well if they themselves were threatened that way).  They wouldn’t be against carrying or using a weapon, since they realize (as a condition of the previous) that the use of lethal force may certainly be necessary.  Nor would they interfere with the victim’s use of lethal force to subdue a criminal if the victim themself were on hand to defend their own property.  Nevertheless, they view the unnecessary use of lethal force (as parsed through their own moral lens) as an injustice if there is any chance that the criminal in question can be rehabilitated.  Let’s say that, furthermore, they had the means to actually subdue a criminal caught in the act non-lethally and prevent them from inflicting any further harm in a way that would still preserve the criminal’s life (though if the criminal in question would rather die, they’d still honor the criminal’s exercise of free will).

Would that sort of behavior be condoned as acceptable civilized behavior within the framework of Imperial society?

Well, the first thing I must ask you to bear in mind, of course, is that permadeath is hard in a world full of noetic backups – just imagine how hard it is for the people who have to try and implement the death penalty – requiring serious premeditation, and very much not something you are going to be able to inflict in a self-defense sort of situation.

You really can shoot first and ask questions (of the reinstantiated) later, which shifts the effective definition of “lethal force” quite a lot, not so? At least so long as we’re talking about corpicide, and not cognicide.

This is a modern development, of course, but most albeit not all of what’s been seen on-screen is in this era, so it’s particularly relevant.

Anyway, the general case, ignoring that particular consideration. Actually, contra stereotypes, what you propose isn’t actually all that far from the mainstream view. If you were to ask 100 people on the Imperial street, I’m pretty sure you’d get a 90%+ consensus that it’s obviously better to hand petty criminals over to the therapeutic mercies of the Office of Reconstruction to be, y’know, repaired. In an ideal universe.

But that being said, it’s not yet an ideal universe.

And what they teach in self-and-others defense classes is the hardcore version of caritas non obligat cum gravi incommodo. Yes, that’s the ideal, which is why they send the Watch Constabulary’s rookies on the Advanced Non-Lethal Polyspecific Incapacitation Techniques course. But that is a lot longer and more difficult to master than anything that the soph on the street can be expected to master by way of basic self-and-others defense (which, in practice, may well just be what they teach at school-equivalent), and the way this breaks down, per standard mainstream ethics, is this:

a. You are not obliged to place yourself at risk in order to show mercy to an attacker, slaver, or thief, although you may if you choose to;

b. However, you are not entitled to make that choice for anyone else. Their risk management is not yours to decide.

c. Reliably stopping someone and keeping them stopped in a non-lethal manner is a difficult challenge, and not best suited for amateurs.

d. Which is why we teach you to shoot for center mass and make sure that said person isn’t getting up again, because that’s something we can teach you to do reliably in this course.

d. i. Which you are perfectly entitled to do, note, because the Contract is pretty clear on the point that once you deliberately set out to violate the rights of others, you lose the protection of your own. (Note: this is not to say, even though it’s often misinterpreted to say this by outworlders, that permakilling every petty thief you see is the morally optimal solution. It says that it’s ethically permissible, which is not the same thing – hell, it may even qualify as morally pessimal, depending on your own interpretations of same.)

e. And the law is written accordingly, because there’s a limit to the burdens we can reasonably expect people to undertake in pursuit of their Charter-mandated duty to protect the rights of their fellow citizen-shareholders.

So returning to the original question: the governing principle here is going to be “can you make it work?”. If you are going to attempt non-lethal solutions, you’d better be damn sure that you can make your non-lethal solutions work effectively, because you will be held responsible – by the Court of Public Opinion, at the very least – if you fuck it up and fail your duty to protect the rights of your fellow citizen-shareholders because you were flibbling around like an amateur. If you can do it successfully and effectively, that’s great, and you will receive all due plaudits for doing so – but screwing up or exposing people to unnecessarily high levels of risk trying will be looked upon with all the traditional Imperial distaste for incompetence. Caveat pacifist.

(And, well, okay, it’s fair to say that you’re going to be looked at funny if you try and apply this principle to many serious crimes. If you catch, let’s say, a would-be rapist in the act and go to any sort of trouble to restrain them non-lethally, people are going to be asking “Why bother? We’re just going to have to kill him anyway, and now we have to do all this extra paperwork. Dammit.”)

((Further note: I also note “Nor would they interfere with the victim’s use of lethal force to subdue a criminal if the victim themself were on hand to defend their own property.” with the possible implication that this hypothetical person wouldn’t be willing to use lethal force to defend someone else’s property.

…there’s not a let-out clause for that. By that fine old legal principle of el daráv valté eloé có-sa dal, person and property are deemed equivalent, so the exact same self-and-others defense rules apply, and that’s a non-optional obligation.

If you are in a situation where you cannot use non-lethal methods to defend someone else’s property, you must – by the terms of the Charter you agreed to – use lethal methods to defend said property. Otherwise, you will find yourself in court staring down charges of Passive Accessorism/Unmutualism, and your very own appointment with the Office of Reconstruction.))

  1. What’s the dividing line between an instantiated fork of your own personality and a new person who shares your memories? Has there ever been a case where a forked dividual has “evolved” (so to speak) into two legally separate individuals?

Well, there’s both a legal one, and a social one.

The latter amounts to “well, do you think you are the same person?” After all, contradicting someone who thinks they’re someone else on that point would be, at best, rather rude.

There is also a legal standard based on sophotechnologically-determined degrees of divergence (somewhat arbitrary, but you have to draw a bright line somewhere for legal purposes) which is used whenever this sort of question winds up in the court system, be it a civil argument over “He’s me!” “No, I’m not!”, or determination of who exactly the criminal liability attaches to, or whether the restored backup or new edit is the same person in fact, or various other possibilities.

(It is, of course, fairly hard to describe the technical details of exactly where that line is without having the actual scientific vocabulary of sophotechnology to call upon, but as your humble author, I can promise that I know it when I write it…)

On the latter question: absolutely. Happens all the time, sometimes accidentally, mostly intentionally. (Hell, some people prefer to reproduce that way.)

  1. If there’s an apparent “conflict of interest” among any combination of the fundamental and charter rights that arises in the course of a sophont being fulfilling its duties, how is that resolved? Is there an order of precedence where one supersedes the other in the case of conflict?

The only hard and fast rule there is that the rights deriving from the Fundamental Contract (absolute and natural) always supersede those granted by the Imperial Charter when they’re in conflict. Necessarily so: they apply by definition to all sophont beings everywhere, everywhen, whereas charter rights only exist by virtue of the ongoing contract between citizen-shareholders, and you can’t contract away natural law. Makes no sense.

By and large, there’s not a major issue with conflict; the fundamental rights are non-extensive, negative-only, and tightly defined, more or less specifically such that conflict wouldn’t be a problem. Which isn’t to say they never conflict –

(The obvious real-world example, of course, being A Certain Controversial Medical Procedure, which in many cases leaves you with the very ugly choice of deciding to violate one party’s life, or violate the other party’s liberty/property, for values of property equal to body, or else making up some magical unscientific bullshit so you can pretend you aren’t doing either.

In the modern Empire, of course, that’s solved by said procedure having joined the catalog of antique and unpleasant historical medical barbarisms along with leechcraft, trepanation, and in vivo gestation itself, but it’s not like they never had to confront the issue.)

– but they don’t do so very often.

In which cases, there isn’t an order of precedence, but there is precedent, if it’s come up before. If it hasn’t come up with before, you are expected to use your own best judgment when it comes to doing as little harm as possible. It may well – almost certainly will – come up for review afterwards, but the Curia won’t punish you for trying your best to do the Right Thing even if it decides you did the Wrong Thing.

(In keeping, you see, with their general policy that if you want people to use their judgment, you can’t smack them down for making a competent person’s mistakes or failing to use it exactly the way the hypothetical ideal person would have; that just leads to paralyzing initiative, or worse, setting up plans and procedures and the equivalent of zero-tolerance policies at a distance, which inevitably turn into stupid, unjust results up close with the sole virtue that since no-one was expected to think, no-one can be held to blame when charlie does the foxtrot.

They don’t hold with that.)

  1. What happens when an Imperial citizen inevitably loses the keys to their own house (whatever form those “keys” may take given the technology available)?

(Ah, now that one actually has a canonical answer from early on: Where Everything Knows Your Name.)

While there are other ways of doing this for specialized applications, in practice identity is stated and authenticated using a convenient device called a Universal – which is itself a little metal ball about a millimeter in diameter containing a specialized code-engine processor, your unique UCID, your megabit identity (private) key, and a few gigabytes of non-volatile memory for supplemental data. This does two-factor authentication against the authentication systems of the Universal Registry of Citizens and Subjects, the second factor being cognimetric (i.e., your mindprint) to prove that you are you, possibly upped to three-factor against attached local databases.

The Universal serves as more or less everything. It’s your administrative ID, passport, licenses, certificates, registrations, contractee ID, financial account numbers, medical information, insurance cards, membership cards, travel tickets, passwords, subscriptions, encryption keys, door keys, car keys, phone number, etc., etc., etc.

(And you almost never actually need to deliberately use it. Things that you are authorized to use/open/log on to/etc., or that customize themselves to the individual user, just work when you try to do those things, because they quietly do the authentication exchange in the background. To the point that you can sit down in a rented office cubicle on an entirely different planet and get your glasstop, your files, the lighting, chair, and microclimate adjusted to your personal preferences, and a mug of that particular esklav variant you like sitting at your elbow. Automagically. You can just pick up your shopping and walk out of the store, and it’ll automatically bill you. Walk right onto the plane, and your boarding pass checks itself. The entire world just knows who you are and behaves accordingly.)

In less advanced times, people used to carry these things around in signet rings, or other tasteful accessories, and suchlike. These days, though, it/s integrated into the neural lace and or gnostic interlink, and as such rests about a centimeter below one’s medulla oblongata. (Assuming for the purposes of this answer that you’re a biosapience.) If you somehow manage to lose that, you probably have bigger problems than being unable to prove your identity right now…

They do, however, break down, albeit extremely rarely.

At which point you place a call to the nearest Imperial Services office (a free-to-call-even-anonymously line for situations just like this), report the problem, and get it replaced. Which involves spending an irritating amount of time going through the process of validating your identity the old-fashioned way to the Universal Registry’s satisfaction, then having the faulty one disconnected and surgically extracted, then replaced by its shiny new functional counterpart.

It’s an annoyance, but not much more than that.