New Anthology Sample: Arrivals!

dome_cityI told you it’s been a busy time for the Yuva anthology, and not just for my venerable colleagues. In my case as well, I’ve made some headway on the short story Arrivals and thought it was time to share! For the last few samples, the story was focused on the goings-on of the Planetary Council once they had learned that a new convoy of ships was approaching the planet. As always, there were hard questions, fears and agendas at play.

For this part, I have chosen to shift the focus back to the person who noticed the new convoy of colonists (aka. the Second Wave) coming in the first place – Marcellin Strauss, a simple technician who toiled in anonymity prior to the detection of the approaching convoy that set everything on the planet in motion. Now, he finds himself being sought out by the Planetary Council, and told to report to strange location for reasons that are not shared. Hope you like the sampling, and stay tuned for more!

_____

Asteria Research Facility
Zarmina, Vogt

It was like looking at a still frame in some futuristic SenSim. The building had the appearance of a mushroom, an off-white, ground-hugging thing with just the slightest overhanging edges. And yet, its dimensions seemed unnaturally large for the setting, far bigger than anything he’d seen in an auxiliary dome, which this place certainly appeared to be.

As he disembarked from the transit car, Strauss consulted his Tab to make sure he was in the right place. The Council’s message had been somewhat short on explanations, but the directions had been quite precise. The private line he had taken to get here had deposited him at a stop just over a hundred meters away, and every building and laneway that sat between him and the mushroom cap seemed awfully quiet. As he looked around the expanse of the small dome, he got the strange feeling that he was very much alone… and being watched.

“Welcome resident! How may I assist you?”

Strauss almost jumped. He turned quickly to the right and noticed the transit chest sitting there. As always, this consisted of a squat red box with a tall display stand at the side. On the display screen, the words it had just uttered were displayed prominently; the happy, iconic face of Magid Mukhtari smiling as it repeated them.

“Welcome resident! How may I assist you?”

“I, uh…” he replied dumbfoundedly, and looked back in the direction of the far building.

“Will you be requiring personal transit on this trip?” the voice asked, suggesting the most obvious option. He considered the distance between him and his destination and judged that it was not an unreasonable suggestion.

“I guess so,” he said, and placed his Tab on his chest.

“Very good, sir. Please return the vehicle to one of several designated transit boxes on your journey when you are finished with it.”

The door on the box opened and a ground car presented itself to him. Stepping onto the foot rest, he placed his hands on the control ring and felt the car power up. The terminal in the middle came online and the face of Muhktari was there as well, giving him a quick tutorial.

“Just place your feet on the acceleration pads located at the front of the footrest to-”

Strauss didn’t bother to wait for it to finish. He had had enough experience driving himself around to know how the capitol cars worked. The face of the screen laughed as he took off, putting distance between himself and the stop.

“Whoa! I see you’ve done this before! Please exercise caution when driving amongst pedestrians and other vehicles. And remember to return the car to a designated transit chest when you are finished with it. Have a nice day!”

What pedestrians? he wondered, as he drove towards his destination. Several minutes passed as he closed the distance between the transit line and the far building. And at no point did he see anyone, nor any indication of people working inside the other structures. The feeling of isolation intermixed with the sense that he was being watched yet again, and it did not make for a happy state of mind.

He was just glad he wasn’t hungover as well, though a shot of liquid courage would certainly have been welcome! He did his best to focus on where he was headed and tried not to think of the eerie, empty buildings that were passing him by, or the distinct impression that they weren’t so much empty as containing spies who watched him from every window.

But on that front, things weren’t much better. At his current distance, the building seemed to loom much higher than before, forcing him to look up towards the dome’s roof to take it all in. This meant that the ceiling, with all it’s rigid struts and panels were now it’s backdrop. The strange, webbed pattern only served to make it all look somehow more… spooky.

As he got closer, he came to realize something else about the building. All along the façade, there were lines of various colors, but none of them seemed to correspond to a segment in the structure. As far as one could tell, the building was a single piece, no joints or seams to speak of. Such seemed unlikely, but the illusion was not dispelled with any decrease of distance.

That’s when every single device on his body began to signal to him. The sound was unmistakable, indicating that they were going into offline mode since there was no longer any bandwidth in this area. He came to a stop and pulled his Tab from his chest to confirm this. Sure enough, the Tab presented a topographical representation of the area that showed a large, circular dead zone emanating out from the mushroom-shaped building. Rather than having ventured beyond the range of the QIN’s wireless network, he was now entering an area where it was actively being denied.

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Between his observations of the structure and this latest revelation, it seemed clear that whoever was inside was taking great pains to keep what they were doing in there a secret.

What am I stepping into here? he wondered. He scanned the outer edge of the building again, trying to see if he could spot any telltale signs of cameras or spy drones. There were none that he could see, but he sensed they were there… somehow, somewhere.

And yet, he found himself pressing the accelerator pedal again and driving closer. Whatever this summons was, whatever was going on inside that odd-looking building, he wanted to know. Besides, at this point, he was just about there. Might as well go all the way and see what all the hubbub was about.

“You have reached your destination,” the happy face of Mukhtari said once he came to  stop. “I am not picking up any transit chests at this location. If you would like to park this vehicle for later use, please say so now. If not, please tell this car to –”

“Return,” he ordered, stepping free of the footrest. The voice stopped in midsentence, having recieved the requisite order to head back to it’s last storage location. It did manage to issue a kind farewell as it zipped away along the street, moving in a perfect rectilinear fashion.

“We hope that you enjoyed your ride!”

Strauss chuckled to himself and looked towards the mushroom, which now had the appearance of being a big, white giant. He was tempted to walk up and touch it, thinking at this point that it had to be composed of some kind of ceramic or composite material.

However, in one spot there was an irregularity –  a sort of circular hole that was two meters high and less than a single meter deep. Inside, the same seamless ceramic material sat, solid and impenetrable. But this was the only thing that even resembled a door. Taking another deep breath, Strauss took a few steps towards it and steeled himself for a surprise, one way or another.

That’s when he heard a loud hiss and a high pitched squeal. Strauss’ gate came to an immediate halt and his heart began to beat overtime. He stood motionless for several seconds, worried that he had set something off, afraid to move lest he make it worse.

But the noticed, the circular opening was opening further. Inside, several small lines appeared on the circular surface, bisecting the door at cross-angles, and then began pulling it open. When they finally opened all the way, he saw a woman standing there, wearing a grey jumpsuit with the same strange color patterns he noticed on the building’s façade.

“You Marcellin Strauss?” she asked, sticking her head through the open doorway. He found himself scanning her suit still, wondering just what the hell section it represented. She wasn’t with Planetary, or Defense, for that matter. Neither the color nor the insignia patches matched. He then realized she had asked him a question and simply nodded, unable to form words at the moment.

“Good,” she said. “Get inside, we have a lot to cover and we’re running late.”

She turned back inside and clearly meant for him to follow. Strauss managed to find his voice and clumsily uttered the obvious question. “I- I’m sorry. Who are you?”

She turned back to him and raised an eyebrow, a reaction that let him know exactly how little she thought of the question. “Madeleine Hartberg, Yuva Cosmonautic Corps.”

“Cosmonau-” he stuttered. “I- I wasn’t aware there was one.”

She smiled sideways. “There is now. And there are people inside who would very much like to talk to you. Are you going to come see them, or stand there like an idiot all day?”

Strauss once again fell mute and couldn’t move. And whoever this woman was, she was clearly getting annoyed because of it.

“Look, Strauss, I don’t have time to explain everything right now. Bottom line is, you’ve been asked to participate in something bigger than anyone on this planet has known since we made ‘Fall. Now are you coming, or are you going to miss out on that opportunity?”

Marcellin’s voice didn’t respond, but his feet seemed to be in working order. He knew this, because he began to follow her inside.

“Good!” she said, ushering him in. “Now please move it. Thirty seconds of this and I’m already sick of you!”

New Anthology Sample: Arrivals!

Yuva_coverWow, its been awhile since I’ve posted anything from my group’s Yuva anthology. But that’s been the nature of my writing in these past few weeks, picking up projects I haven’t been working on lately and getting busy on them! And one of the fruits of these labors is the next installment in the short story “Arrivals”.

It came after I finished reading over my friends’ proposal for another story – Amber Iver’s and Goran Zidar’s “Ember Storm”. Somehow, reading another’s work always seem to help stoke the creative fires. And since “Arrivals” has been sitting on my desk without improvement for months now, I figured it was time to dust it off and make some headway!

YuvaAs the story that starts off part III of the anthology, “Arrivals” deals with the Second Wave of colonists who come to the planet of Yuva some 200 years after the first Terraformers set foot on the planet. Naturally, this new group of settlers is fare more advanced than the first, and has made the trip in less time thanks to the superiority of their next-generation, interstellar space ships.

The first segment of the story, which I posted back in March, dealt with the signal from these distant ships being received. This second part deals with the repercussions, as the Yuvan authorities come to see the ships in distant space and realize they will be arriving in orbit within two years time. Preparations need to be made, and the possibilities need to be addressed.

Will these new “arrivals” be friendly, or hostile? Are they simply people looking to join the first wave in creating a new home, or are they intent on pushing them out of the way? And just as importantly, what news and developments are they bringing with them from Earth, a world the Yuvan people have not heard from in over two centuries?

Planetary Research Council
Zarmina, Vogt

Anuja Padda tapped the table before her, loud enough so that everyone arranged in the circle would hear her and come to attention. Slowly, the many conversations that were passing between the board’s various members came to an end and they looked in her direction.

“Good morning, all. I thank you all for coming, especially those who joining us from overseas. I think we can all agree, we meet here under some rather extraordinary circumstances.”

There were mumbles of agreement from all around the table. Padda continued.

“And though I’m sure everyone has had a chance to review the information, I know my colleagues won’t fault me for reviewing our situation for the sake of posterity. Future generations will certainly appreciate it.”

That got a few snickers, and some people looking around the expanse of the room. From multiple angles, holorecording devices were capturing their every word, gesture and nuance. Someday, posterity would be looking back on the recordings made, and she was determined to give them a good show.

She cleared her throat and started from the beginning. “Less then twenty-four hours ago, a remote monitoring station on the western coast on Bonfils reported receiving some anomalous readings. The station assessed the readings and determined that they were in fact a transmission, which appeared to be coming from an extra-planetary source.”

She paused for emphasis. The next segment of her introduction required a few seconds grace, given the heady nature of it all.

“Ever since we arrived on this planet almost two centuries ago, we’ve entertained the notion that one day, another flotilla would follow in our wake, bringing a second wave of colonists to this world. Yesterday, we finally heard from them. And today, we will receive our first glimpse of them.”

The room’s lights suddenly went dark and a million specks of light slowly began to appear around them and grow in luminosity. The image that was now filling the Council meeting room could be seen in every Planetary Research office on the planet, the video feeds that were being captured from orbit streaming in through their own holodisplay devices.

Raising her hands and the image responded, the holodisplay reading the embedded sensors in her fingertips and responding to her manipulations. The image began to move and zoom in on a particular region of space. Holding her left hand steady to prevent lateral movement, she pulled her right hand back several times, increasing the magnification on the desired region. Three grey blobs appeared in this area, indiscernible and bland, until the image improved the resolution.

What they saw then instantly amazed and left them all speechless.

There, at the center of the room and hovering above their heads, were the mottled images of three large space-born craft. Their edges were sharp, their profiles long and contoured. There was no mistaking them for asteroids or any other kind of stellar mass.

“The image quality leaves something to be desired, but as you can see, we are detecting three ships flying in a wedge formation.”

“In other words,” said Councilor Moltke from the other side of the room, “a formation and disposition which matches our arrival exactly.”

Padda nodded, as did numerous others who continued to watch with awe. Within seconds, questions began to follow.

“How long until they get here?”

“Our scopes indicate that at their present velocity, they will arrive in orbit of Yuva in just over two years’ time.”

“What was the message they sent?”

“We don’t know yet, as it was encrypted using a rather complex cipher. But our technicians are sure we can decode it before long. Most likely, it’s a message of greeting.”

“The ships they are using, they’re faster than the ones that brought us here, yes?”

Padda turned to address this question, though it was more of an observation. Given their apparent distance and the timeframe she gave them, one could not help but draw that conclusion.

“Yes, they do appear to be using a form of propulsion technology that is superior to the one that powered the Avincenna, , and . This should come as no surprise, given that they’ve had well over a century to refine their methods.”

“And what of their intent?”

Padda looked around the room to find the source of the question. It appeared to be coming from the back wall, an alcove which was temporarily shaded due to the display of lights above. As the speaker stepped forward, she suppressed the urge to sigh and greeted them politely.

“Minister Astrakhan, this is a surprise. We weren’t expecting a visitor from Planetary Defense.”

“Perhaps if you had invited us to this session,” he said dryly, moving closer to the center of the room. “Nevertheless, my question still stands. What is their intent?”

Padda cleared her throat. “We can’t be sure at this time. However –”

“All we really know is that have a flotilla of ships arriving in our system from Earth. They are more advanced than we are, they have sent a message we can’t interpret, and yet we assume that they are here bringing a new wave of colonists who plan to peacefully integrate into our society.” He stopped and looked at the display; nodded, as if appraising the image and finding something within it that he approved of. “Have you even considered the possibility that their intent might be hostile?”

Padda shook her head. She tried to respond, but incredulity prevented her from finishing her sentence. “I’m sorry, I –”

“It’s not unheard of for new waves of colonists to displace those that came before them,” he continued. “Or have you forgotten your Earth history?”

Padda’s face went warm. “I haven’t forgotten anything sir.”

“Ah, then you recall the last time in Earth’s history when exploration and colonization took place? During the 18th century, many waves of Europeans arrived on the shores of what they liked to refer to as ‘The New World’. In the north, settlers landed in large numbers along the eastern shores, and after clearing the lands of its native inhabitants, subsequent waves of settlers triggered a series of conflicts. Colonies switched hands as their respective nations demanded the right to control the lands that were already spoken for.”

Padda once again suppressed a sigh.

“You’re saying you think these colonists are here to push us out? Or demand we submit to their authority?”

“And why not?” he asked, turning around to face her. If they do possess superior technology, what’s to stop them?”

Low murmurs began to erupt around the room, growing in intensity as more people joined the chorus. It wasn’t long before she could hear remarks being shouted in Astrakhan’s direction. All the while, he continued to look at Padda, a cold stare on his face.

All too quickly, she remembered exactly why she hadn’t invited him to this meeting. She knew he would be likely to raise some pessimistic possibilities. Unfortunately, not inviting him had had the effect of exacerbating the situation. Amidst their awe and distraction, he had managed to sneak in and stir the pot even more.

“Excuse me, everyone!” she said finally. Slowly, silence returned to the room. “Let us not get carried away with speculation. Minister Astrakhan, it is your contention that we do not know what these ships and their crews are doing here, correct?”

“It is not my contention, Madame Councilor. It is a fact.”

She smiled. “Then it would be foolish of us to be taking an alarmist position, would it not? If we are indeed ignorant, we shouldn’t allow such ignorance to manifest itself in fear.”

No one chuckled, but she felt the room respond favorably to her remark. The only one who didn’t appear impressed was Astrakhan. Despite his next words, his face registered no reaction to her rebuttal.

“Indeed, Councilor. It would be foolish to assume the worse anymore than it would to assume the best. Perhaps we can agree then that more information is needed?”

Padda nodded silently. She sensed there was more coming, something she wasn’t going to think too highly of.

“A good first step would be to decode the message they sent. I recall you saying it had a rather advanced encryption?”

“That is correct. A quantum encryption that will take some time to crack.”

“Good…” Astrakhan brought his hands together in front of him. “Then might I suggest Planetary Defense and Resources arrange for a collaborative effort. Between our two ministries, we could be able to dedicate all our quantum processors to the task and break their codes that much quicker.”

Padda was about to respond in the affirmative, but was interrupted by Moltke.

“A valid suggestion, Minister. But might I suggest that we extend that collaboration to include all major settlements? Between all of us, we have over a dozen processors that could be networked and dedicated to the task.”

Astrakhan quickly turned around to confront Moltke. “That would require breaching whatever security we have in place with this matter. The entire planet would be made aware of the arrival of these ships.”

Stepping into the light, Moltke spread his hands in a gesture of defeat. “They are likely to have heard of it already, Minister. If we want them to remain informed and calm on the subject, I can think of no better idea than to get in front of the story. Besides, if Planetary Defense is determined to learn of their intentions is what we want, then any measure that could accomplish this task sooner is in order.”

Astrakhan bristled noticeably, then turned back to look at Padda. His face was still painfully neutral, but she could tell from his body language that Moltke had ruffled his feathers.

“I shall have to speak to my superiors, and of course the Planetary Council will need to be informed, and will retain final approval of anything we propose.”

Padda smiled, inwardly suppressing a sense of sardonic joy. “Yes, they will, Minister. I commend you and my colleague on the sensible recommendations made here today.”

Astrakhan left without further incident. The mood lightened the moment he was gone and the rooms main doors slid shut behind him. Within seconds, murmurs began to erupt again. It wasn’t long before questions began to be asked as well.

“There’s the matter of their arrival,” said another Councilor. “What shall we do to prepare?”

“A welcoming committee?” said another.

“What about a series of shuttles going into orbit to greet them?” said Moltke.

Several heads turned to him and began muttering curiously.

“An orbital meet and greet?” said Padda. “Not a bad idea, but we would still be waiting a full two years before they would be close enough for our standard aerospace jets to reach them.”

“Perhaps then we should prepare something with greater range and capability,” Council Mond suggested, their resident expert on aerospace. “If they are going to be two years in coming, we could dedicate the next year to developing shuttles that could meet them half way.” Everyone in the room began to voice their approval of this idea. Mond took that as an invitation to continue. “Until now, we’ve had no reason to build ships that were built specifically for space travel. But between the orbital stations and our resources here on the surface, we have the capability to build a series of shuttles that could be sent from orbit to meet them in space before they reach our world.

This produced additional hums and vocalizations of assent. Eventually, numerous people looked to Padda again to see if she agreed. After a brief consideration, she nodded approvingly.

“A good idea,” she said. “And one I’m sure Minister Astrakhan will be suggesting himself. No doubt he would emphasize that we need to get a look at these people before we allow them to set foot on our planet.”

“Looks like Planetary Defense and Research will be collaborating on something else.”

Everyone chuckled at Moltke’s remark.

Anthology Sample: “Swan Song”

 

Hello all. There’s plenty of things happening on the Anthology front! More authors, more contributions, and more final drafts being produced. As it happens, our good contributor and friend here, Melanie Edmonds, has just finished work on her story “Swan Song”. This is the third installment in Part II of the anthology, which deals with the final mission of the Colony Ships.

The story takes place roughly 100 years after Planetfall is made, when the Avincenna, Taftazani, and Kashani delivered the first wave of colonists to Yuva. Those who crewed them have lived a comparatively empty existence ever since, being unable to live planetside due to the intense gravity and finding little else of value to do since.

Edmonds take us into the world of these people and inside the ships as they perform their final duty to the colony and embrace their destiny. Here is the first section of the story, fresh from the digital press!

They say there is a swan that is silent for its whole life. It grows and loves and does all the swan-like things, but it does not utter a sound. Then, the moment before it dies, it opens its throat, and not even the vacuum of space can swallow the beauty of its song.

*          *          *          *

[The image broadcast across the Yuva networks is dominated by the great globe of her sun, Gliese 581. Nearing the glow, three shapes track slowly and majestically. Their silhouettes are familiar, for they are the great colony ships.]

[Transmission Voiceover]

“It has been ten years since we arrived here. Ten years since we slowed our ships and woke our children. Ten years since we put a stake in this planet and said, ‘this is our new home’. This is Yuva.”

*          *          *          *

Avicenna, Bridge
Gliese 581 – 20 minutes

“Final corrections made. We’re on approach vector.” Pilot Gnana Tanaq slid her hands off the controls. This is the last time I’ll do this, she thought. “Inertia will carry us in, now.”

The first time she touched the console, her hands were smooth and soft, barely out of puberty. Now, sixty-four years later, they were wrinkled and worn, though they still curled around the grips easily. Just as she had worn shiny spots into the plastic, so the grips had worn her hands into control-friendly curves. Pilots’ claws, some people called them. She bore hers proudly.

Behind her, she felt Jackson sigh and loosen his grip on his console. “So, that’s it, then.”

“Yup.”

“How long?”

Gnana glanced down at the readouts scrolling before her. “Not long. Twenty minutes, maybe, depending on how quickly the gravity pulls us in.” She turned her chair so she could see him. “You’re the navigator, though.”

Jackson didn’t even bother to check his readings. He shrugged. “Sounds right.”

She smiled at him, dark skin crinkling around her eyes. “I know, I know: it goes against everything you believe in to navigate purposefully into something.”

He wrinkled his nose and his moustache twitched. “I keep wanting to tell you to alter course. Can’t help it.”

Gnana laughed softly, but there was no real humour in it. The forward viewports were unshuttered and Gliese 581 filled the entire window. Its orange glow lit the Bridge as if it was already on fire.

With a sigh, she unclipped the tether that held her to the chair and pushed over to where Jackson floated. She covered his hand with hers and his head dipped slightly in acknowledgement. The sunlight was turning his hair red, like it had been years ago. Gnana used to joke that he was the whitest man she’d ever met, so pale he wasn’t even freckled. Like her, he’d spent his whole life in space behind radiation shielding; his skin had never felt the real touch of a sun. Another twenty minutes would change that.

She turned her attention forward. It was hard to look at the Bridge now; it wasn’t the home she had known anymore. She had expected memories to crowd in here, but instead, all she saw was gaps. The holes where missing stations once were: communications, cryonics, long-range sensors. The stripped-down environmental console and the bare patches of decking where chairs used to be; the only one remaining was hers, because the pilot still needed it for this final journey. Even navigation was stripped down.

This room used to be busy with bodies, full of shifting console displays and the shadows of the crew. Now, it was just her and Jackson.

Gnana glanced sideways and saw Jackson frowning. “Still angry that he chose not to come?” She didn’t have to say who she meant; he knew.

Jackson’s expression scrunched down. “His place is here.”

“It was his choice.” Gnana’s tone was non-committal; in truth, she wasn’t sure what she thought about the captain’s decision.

Three days ago, she had agreed with Jackson: the captain was a coward who refused the honourable path. They had all known this was a likely end to this journey when they signed on, but he had chosen to stay on the orbital platforms, training the colonists in… she wasn’t even sure what.

Then, the night before they departed on their final voyage, she had seen the captain at a bar. It was the only time in her life she had ever seen him drunk, and it wasn’t pretty. He had slurred goodbye to her and hugged her – hugged her – and she had seen it in his eyes. It tore him up to deny his duty but he wasn’t ready to stand on his ship and sail into the sun for the last time; there was still living left for him to do.

She couldn’t begrudge him that. He was younger than the other captains, though his time commanding the Avicenna meant he would never be able to step foot on the planet below. The toll of space on bones and organs meant the gravity would kill him, slowly and painfully. But he could have a life on the orbital platforms, maybe even lead the colonial effort the way he had led the ship.

She had considered staying too, but the only position open for her was as a shuttle pilot. It wasn’t anything like flying the Avicenna, though, and even a short atmospheric stay caused her pain. The last time, she’d had a bone-deep ache for two weeks afterwards, making her hands shake so badly that she couldn’t fly at all.

Besides, she was tired. This was her last flight, and it seemed fitting to her that it was with her baby, her ship, the machine that spoke to her through her hands on its controls.

With a sigh, she lifted her gaze to the sun burning before them.

“Look on the bright side,” she said to Jackson without looking. “Maybe you’ll finally get a tan.”

And that’s from Part II of the novel, so suffice it to say, we’re making headway! Stay tuned for more!

 

The O’Neill Cylinder

Welcome all to another post that explores the world of conceptual sci-fi! In keeping with the trend of explaining concepts which helped inspire my group’s most recent project, the space colonization story Yuva, I’ve decided to talk about what is known as an O’Neill Cylinder.

Named in honor of Gerard K. O’Neill in his 1976 book The High Frontier: Human Colonies in Space, the concept deals with the idea of placing a large cylinder in space that would rotate to provide gravity. Habitats within the cylinder would be built along the walls to ensure uniform gravity.

Some of the more interesting features of this design, aside from the curious layout, is the fact that in such a setting, windows placed in the hull can provide natural illumination, thus cutting down on the electricity bill. If the cylinder is particularly large, in which case one side is invisible to the other, then the rotation can provide periodic light, simulating day and night. And being a single volume of space, it can be pressurized, the gravity increasing pressure near the surface.

Fans of Rendezvous with Rama will recognize this concept right off the bat. The alien vessel in the story, dubbed Rama, was one big O’Neill Cylinder that floated through space, with a city built directly into the interior. A circular lake was also placed at the midway point, known as the Cylindrical Sea. At the far ends of the ship, an entrance and a gravitational drive were placed.

Another example is to be found in the Gibson novel Neuromancer, where a space station known as “Freeside” became the focal point in part III of the story. According to Gibson’s own descriptions, the station was a large cylinder in space owned by the Tessier-Ashpool clan. Their own villa was located at the very tip, a place known as “Straylight”, with luxury apartments, hotels, and vacation spots lining the interior. Artificial illumination was provided by a long band that ran down the middle and obscured a clear view of the other side.

And last, and my personal favorite, is the eponymously named space station of Babylon 5. Built along the same lines as Rama and Freeside, this space station was one giant rotating cylinder which housed over a quarter million humans and aliens. The interior surface was divided between several sectors, each one coded by color.

B5_interiorBrown Sector was designated for trade facilities, Blue Sector for personnel facilities, Green for diplomats, Gray for manufacturing, Red for resident habitation, and Yellow for environmental control. Transport along the length of the station was handled by a long rail that was frequented by a transport shuttle. At this point in the station, the gravity was virtually nil and atmospheric pressure was also substantially less.

All of this was consistent with an O’Neill Cylinder and applied to far more than just the station itself. Just about all Earth ships and installations in the B5 universe contained rotating sections to provide gravity since humanity had not yet stumbled onto the secret of artificial gravity.

When it comes right down to it, the concept of a rotating space cylinder is a very eloquent idea for simulating gravity, consistent with hard science and realism. Artificial gravity is often used in science fiction as a sort of given, mainly because its convenient and simpler from a design standpoint. Ships that have cylinders and rotation sections are bulky compared to sleek, unrealistic space concepts – space barges compared to flying works of art.

But that’s really not realistic, especially where near-future science fiction is concerned. Like it or not, artificial gravity just isn’t a plausible concept yet, not unless we find that troublesome graviton particle and learn how to harness it in a stable way. Which is why you can tell that a franchise is particularly inspired when you see ships and stations relying on rotation sections to simulate gravity. Not only is it more realistic, its shows that the conceptual artists and writers are doing their homework.

And that’s precisely why the Yuva ships feature them! And I hope people will find that it is indicative of the kind of mindset me and my group have. We like sci-fi, we like realism, and its especially good when hard science and hard fiction come together. Can’t wait until the book is done, all these teasers are driving me nuts!

“Progenitor”, another Anthology sample

It must seem that I do nothing these days but work on this anthology. Well, in truth, it has been taking up an inordinate amount of my time lately, school being out for summer and all. Without the rugrats to occupy my attention, I tend to dedicate myself to my writing. And given the prolific output from the other members of the group, I’d say they are working just as hard!

And here’s the proof: Khaalidah Muhammed-Ali, a stellar writer and the person who inspired this concept, recently sent me her first draft of her ongoing story. It’s called “Progenitor” in honor of the colonization project on which our story is based. I highly recommend reading it, as this story’s likely to become kind of a big deal some day soon!

Progenitor:
The most famous of Magid Muktari’s epigrams was recorded within hours of his death.  As with most of his utterance within the last days of his life, it was in regards to his eldest child Sanaa, the only of his nineteen children to attain the same degree of esteem as himself.  

Surely we own our progeny until they realize that we do not. ~ Magid Muktari, 2081

*****

Magid Muktari tried to read the letter, but his eyes were drawn back to the blinking red ticker tape message that scrolled across the top of the stiff paper. 

祝贺, Felicitaciones, Congratulations,  تهنئة , बधाई  . 

It had been his idea to add the admittedly eccentric touch to the acceptance letters.  His colleagues had thought it excessive and unprofessional but in the end they acquiesced, giving the oldest and most contributory member of the International Intergalactic Yuva Colonization Project the leeway to make the changes he wanted before his inevitable retirement.

“What is this?” he asked knowing full well.  He could not think of anything more apt to say to his oldest daughter.  She understood that what he actually meant to ask was, why?

“For all the reasons you’ve been touting to the public these last fifty years.”  Sanaa squared her shoulders and recited from the legendary commercial that Muktari himself had created and starred in.  “Be one of the first to travel to another solar system.  Be the progenitor of a new world and a new culture.  Take part in the greatest experiment man will ever conduct.”  Sanaa tried to smile, but was suddenly struck by just how old her father was.  

Magid Muktari was actively dying.  Doctors had managed to cure Muktari’s cancer twice, slow the Parkinson’s, restore his eyesight, transplant his heart, and install a semi-robotic arm, but they had not managed to cure old age.  Flesh is still only flesh.  Sanaa was happy that she wouldn’t be there to see her father die.

“I never intended for one of my own children…”  Muktari’s slight body contracted as he coughed wetly into the bend of his arm.  “Do you not realize the dangers involved?”  Magid Muktari slumped back into the chair behind his desk.  “This isn’t a mere trip home-side, my love.  You will never come back to us again?  Not to mention,” he said lowering his voice, “it would be a shame for an unmarried young woman to go off alone.  This is against our tradition.”

Sanaa reached across the desk and took the letter from her father’s hand.  “According to this, I won’t be alone.“  She cleared her throat.  “You will be in the exceptional company of one thousand other strong, intelligent, capable, progenitors embarking on this voyage of lifetimes.”  

“What of finding a husband?”

“Do I have any marriage prospects, Baba?”  The question sounded like a rebuke and Muktari cringed.  There were none and Sanaa had long ago stopped hoping.  

Sanaa turned away from her father and leaned against the ledge of the massive view port, her breaths misting the glass.  In the distance to the right, against the black curtain of space she could see the flotilla, each ship moored in its respective dock.  Tiny figures tethered to lifelines laced with blinking lights moved over the surface of the ships, readying them for what would be both their maiden and final voyage.  She would be assigned to the second ship, the Avicenna, and by virtue of that alone, she thought it was the most beautiful of them all.

“I would have loved marriage,” said Sanaa wistfully, “but men don’t want women like me.”  Sanaa unconsciously ran a hand over her veil.  In recent times there had been a half-hearted attempt by her generation to return to the original ways; a stab back at the failures of their predecessors.  But such attempts were weak and ill-informed and without real knowledge or virtue.  They took only pieces of the old traditions and left the ones they deemed inconvenient.  “Men want wives who believe, just not ones who show it.”

“My love, in times like these, where women outnumber men nearly two to one, and beauty and brains can be bought in equal measure for a few credits, your kind is a rare dying breed.”

Sanaa laughed weakly.  “One day, I will be like the quagga, a long extinct creature that people will think was only a myth.”  

“Is this why you’ve decided to do this?  Because of a husband?”  Muktari strained forward.  “I can find someone.”

That was the crux of the problem.  For thirty-three years Muktari had been finding Sanaa’s way.  When she complained about her overcrowded dorm room when she first left for university back home-side, Muktari arranged for her roommates to be reassigned so she could have the room to herself.  She didn’t tell him how she was thereafter ostracized but she later learned that he’d set a guard to watch her movements.  When Muktari received reports about the insults, he’d had each guilty girl expelled.  When the admissions board at the School of Medicine in Luxor had denied her entrance, Muktari had none too subtly reminded them who her father was.  For Muktari, protection equalled love, but for Sanaa, her father’s protection was as a wet cloth over fire.  She could not flourish if she was to remain.  And it seemed he would not die if she remained.

Sanaa shook her head.  “I’ll be leaving in six weeks, Baba.”

“I know.  I’m the one who set the schedule.  Remember?”

Tamima, Muktari’s fourth wife entered with a brass tray.  She acknowledged Sanaa with a nod and placed the tray on the desk in front of Muktari.  After she poured his tea she settled a hip onto the arm of his chair.  

Sanaa could hardly bring herself to look at the woman.  She had two reasons to hate her one-time friend, her only friend.  Tamima had not only found a husband while she had not, but she’d found one in Sanaa’s own father.  

“What does your mother have to say about your decision?” asked Muktari, rousing Sanaa from her reverie.

“I plan to go home-side next week.  I will tell her then.”

Muktari smiled knowingly.  “She won’t like it.”

Sanaa shrugged her shoulders.  At thirty-three, surely she was old enough to make her own decisions.  “No different than you, I expect.”

“Yes, but I will not stand in your way, even though it means I will never see you again.”  Muktari’s eyes grew glassy.  He lowered his gaze and busied himself with spooning sugar into his cup of tea.  He cleared his throat before continuing.  “But your mother would hijack the ship before letting you go, if she has it in her mind that you should not.”

Sanaa didn’t know the brash stubborn side of her mother that Muktari had often mused about.  She’d been living with her father and his many wives and children in their residential pod since their divorce when she was eight.  Her mother hadn’t minded his other wives, or their children, or even his neglect.  She’d always claimed that she was the only one of his wives he’d ever truly loved.  They eventually divorced because she refused to be forcibly expatriated to orbit because he’d made the decision to have more than his quota of children. 

When Sanaa was young, visits home-side had never been more than a week in length and only as frequent as once every two years, so her mother had always been on her best behavior.  When she lived home-side, during her years at university in Luxor, either her studies or her mother’s schedule disallowed frequent visits.

*****

I swear, science is stupid in the presence of love and God is greater than them all. ~ Magid Muktari, 2068

*****

The guide’s name tag read Adam and he wore the gray and green dress uniform of the Unified Tellurian Armed Forces.  Sanaa studied him as they waited for other orientees to arrive.  His hair was cropped close to his scalp and an irregular pattern of stubble shadowed his cheeks and neck.  Not a very professional look for a soldier, mused Sanaa. 

Adam had a keloid scar that started at his right temple and disappeared into his collar.  Such a scar could be easily eliminated in a single visit to a curbside plastic surgeon back home-side.  Such blemishes were unheard of there, which made Sanaa wonder if he was one of the newer models of synthetic entities.  She’d heard that they would sometimes opt for the addition of physical imperfections so as to seem more human, but as most humans wouldn’t live with such a scar, such attempts at humanity were fatuous. 

It was soon apparent that Adam was not an android as a dark blush spread under his pale sepia skin.  “Why are you staring at me?”  He asked this without looking up at her.

Tact and honesty had always worked best for Sanaa in the past.  “Just trying to determine if you’re one of the new models of synthetics.”  But then, she thought belatedly, perhaps it was not her tact that had worked best but the fact that she was the daughter of the august Magid Muktari, man of Earth, space, and the stars.  “But, it’s obvious that you are not.”

Adam glanced sideways at Sanaa.  “How can you be so sure?”

“According to Darwin, blushing is the most peculiar and most human of expressions.”

Adam tapped in a sequence on his data pad and then extended it toward Sanaa.  “It seems that you are the only person to appear for the midnight orientation.”

“I’d counted on that.”  Sanaa passed her hand over the data pad so that the diamond bijou she wore around her wrist lined up with the reader.  A hollow voice announced her name.

In the thirty years that people had been living orbit-side, most had still not managed to shake the habit of adhering to the twenty-four hour day.  There was no need to conform to the practice of guarding the hours in space, but living in the shadow of Earth was enough to make them cling to the old habit.  The younger generations and those born orbit-side were less connected to the old habits and more willing to discard them for new.

Now it was Sanaa’s turn to burn under an overly curious gaze.  She was accustomed to the emotions her name wrought, and by extension and to be exact, her father’s name.  She read awe and uncertainty on Adam’s face.  “Yes,” she acknowledged flatly, “Muktari is my father.”

“I’ve read that you helped your father design the ships, that you actually sketched the first design.” 

Sanaa nodded.  “This is all true.”

Adam’s eyebrows rose.  The awe Sanaa first read on his face had been replaced by mild disgust.  She was used to that too, people misunderstanding her certainty for arrogance, truth for contempt.  She was expected to assume an attitude of false humility, play down her part in the genesis of this project.  But why?  Muktari had doted on her as a child, had called each of her drawings inspired, each of her stories prophesy.  He wove her childish imagination into his work.  He’d credited her with his very success.  Social ceremony had always seemed such a waste and unnecessary deceit in Sanaa’s estimation, and the best lesson she’d ever learned from her father, although it had the tendency to breed loneliness.

“Why do you need to an orientation then?  Surely, you know everything about this ship from the cargo hold to the system-wide computers to the—”

“I don’t know about the cryonics chambers.”  Sanaa knew the way though, after all the Avicenna could almost be called her ship.  She headed off following the maze of steel lined corridors to the cryo-stasis bay without waiting for Adam.

Sanaa found chamber eight hundred and eighty-eight, the one assigned to her.  It was surrounded by hundreds of other similar chambers, glittering silver in the low blue lighting of the cryo-stasis bay.  As Sanaa knelt next to her chamber she thought about how she’d had to choose this extreme course for the chance to chart her own life free from the weight of the Muktari name.  When she awoke in a century, she would be only Sanaa.  She would be only herself.  With a push of the red button, the chamber door folded open, a cloud of cold air hissing out.  IV lines dangled limply down the sides, the capped needle ends resting on the bottom.

“Doesn’t look very comfortable.”  Adam stood a few chambers away with his arms crossed behind his back.

“What would be the point?” asked Sanaa absently.  She passed the bijou on her wrist over the chamber console.  UNAUTHORIZED blinked across the expanse of the screen.  Sanaa glanced up at Adam who stepped forward and accessed the computer by punching in the code.

“I read that your father would sometimes send you to inspect—”

Brow furrowed with concentration, Sanaa held up a hand.  “Hmph.  Propocholine.  But how…”  She scrolled through the list of steps in the cryo-procedure, her heart picking up speed as she made her way through it.  She’d never liked enclosed spaces and the fact that she’d be sleeping for the more than one hundred years it would take the Avicenna to reach Yuva, did nothing to allay her fears.  “I should have known, clathrate hydrates.”

“Why are you so interested in the chambers?”

Sanaa disengaged the program and stood up.  “Why do you want to know?”

Adam studied her for what seemed to like endless seconds.  Sanaa had never been what one would call recessive, but this type of open inspection unnerved her.  She crossed her arms.

Without realizing it, Adam mirrored her stance.  “I was…well, just thinking that, well…”

“Go on.”

“I was thinking that if you have any academic questions about the chambers or the procedure itself, I might be able to answer them for you.”

One of Sanaa’s eyebrows lifted and her mouth formed an O.  Her knowledge of medicine was impeccable, but her knowledge of history and current events lacked much.  “Dr. Adam, I gather?”

The creator of the Adam Cryo-Stasis Hibernation Chamber nodded.

*****

The most apocryphal of the Muktari aphorisms is: A silent woman is a dangerous woman, an angry rebellious woman always speaks the truth, and an acquiescent woman is a liar. ~ Magid Muktari, 2056

*****

Yohan Lee grabbed Sanaa’s bag with his left hand and steadied her with his right hand under her elbow.  “You seem unwell, doctor.  Should we escort you to a clinic?”  He gently but firmly guided her through the crowded airport toward the exit.

“Thank you for asking, Yohan, but I really am well.  I had to take a hefty dose of Xanivan in order to tolerate the ride home-side.  The shuttles seem to be getting smaller.”

“They are smaller, the better to preserve fuel and the cost of maintenance, they say.”

Outside, the air was thick and smelled sickly sweet.  Sanaa’s eyes burned.  She suddenly remembered why trips home-side never seemed much fun.  The air they breathed orbit-side was purified through air processors unlike the thick as mud contaminant they choked on here.

Sanaa glanced around for her mother’s transport. 

“This way, doctor.”  Yohan’s hand slipped from her elbow and he headed toward the left.  She lost sight of him for a moment amidst the crowd of people moving in conflicting directions, but she soon caught up with him.  He lifted her bag into the trunk of a small green vehicle and slammed the lid shut.  He opened the back door and motioned for her to step inside.  “I trust you’re ready to depart, doctor?”

“Please stop calling me doctor.”  Yohan Lee had been a wedding gift from Magid Muktari to Sanaa’s mother thirty-five years earlier and he had not changed in all that time.  Although he was a synthetic entity, Sanaa often forgot he was not human.  Though an older model, Yohan was of stellar quality and his learning algorithms gave him the ability to not only learn, but mimic human reactions and motivations.  He’d always seemed, to Sanaa, more human than many true humans.

“I wanted to give you the respect that your title dictates.”

“Doctor is my profession, not my title.”  Sanaa placed a hand on Yohan’s shoulder.  “I’m just Sanaa.”

Sanaa was hardly inside the transport before Firdaws wrapped her arms around Sanaa’s neck.  She pressed a wet kiss onto her cheek.  “It’s been too long, child.  If you didn’t look so much like me, I wouldn’t remember your face.”

Sanaa returned the hug.  “It hasn’t been that long, Umm.” 

Firdaws held up a hand and counted off the years, emphasizing each one by flicking up a long thin finger.  “Four,” she said resolutely.  “That’s too long to stay away from your mother.”

“If you had really missed me, you could have visited orbit-side.”

“You know I can’t stand going orbit-side.  It isn’t natural.  Man is supposed to have soil beneath his feet, not the atmosphere.”

 ****

Few people knew, other his closet family, that Magid Muktari was almost completely blind for the duration of nearly a year.  Pioneers in the ophthamalgic sciences used an advanced yet experimental technique to restore his vision.  Upon opening his eyes for the first time with his newly restored vision, it is said that Muktari exclaimed: Blindness is not the absence of vision, but indeed the state of a heart that despairs.

*****

See? What did I tell ya? Is it not a work of art in progress? Stay tuned because I hope to post follow-up pieces, including those of writer’s Goran Zidar and William Joel. If you like Terraforming, Generation Ships and AI’s, you’ll want to be around for these guys too. They’re kind of a big deal 😉

Cool Ships (volume VIII)

Battleship Yamato:
A couple times now I’ve given praise to ship designs that went beyond the usual airplane/ seafaring paradigm. But what can you say about a spaceship which is a carbon copy of a old sea battleship? I don’t know, gutsy maybe? That its paying homage to the original? That’s all I can really say on this one, since it is identical to its namesake from the Imperial Japanese Navy.

Taken from the anime series of the same name, the Yamato was a prototype ship which was built in secret by Earth forces in the ruins of the original. Using alien technology, it was the first Earth ship to boast FTL and a “wave-motion-gun”. These devices were meant to give it an edge in the ongoing war with a race known as the “Gamilons”.

Early in this war, the Gamilons had bombarded Earth with radioactive meteorites. The result was that all human settlements had to be moved underground. However, the radiation was slowly working its way down to the inhabitants, and the only hope for survival came in the form of a message from a distant star. After completion, the Yamato was meant to fly to this world and retrieve the device which apparently could cleanse Earth of its poisonous radiation.

Thus, the Yamato was created to perform a mission that meant the very survival of the human race. It’s drive system was to make sure it could make the trip, while its weapons were meant to ensure it could defend itself.

Cylon Heavy Raider:
Another installment from the BSG universe, here we have the heavy hitter of the Cylon fleet, the dual purpose attack and transport craft, otherwise known as “the turkey”. Capable of atmospheric entry, space flight and FTL travel, the Heavy Raider is capable of attacking, transporting troops and conducting boarding operations.

Unlike the standard Raider, the heavy can either fly itself on autopilot or be piloted by actual an Centurion. However, its automated functions do not appear to be the result of a sentient nervous system. In terms of armaments and capacity, the heavy has six cannons mounted under its cockpit and its bay is capable of holding up to ten Centurions.

The Heavy Raider made its first appearance in season one (“Scattered”) when one crashed into the starboard flight pod. On Caprica, Sharon Valerii (Boomer) commandeers one to provide fire support to the resistance and save Starbuck as she escaped from a Cylon medical facility (“The Farm”). The Heavy Raider would go on to make several more appearances in the series, particularly whenever assault missions or heavy raids were concerned.

Quasar Fire-class Cruiser:
Once more onto the Star Wars universe, my friends! But this time, its into the expanded universe with a ship that is somewhat obscure by most standards. Known as the Quasar Fire-class cruiser, or Alliance Escort Carrier, this ship made its first appearance in the Thrawn Trilogy during the Battle of Bilbringi then again in the novel The Truce At Bakura.

Designed by the Sullustans as a cargo transport, many of these vessels were given to the Alliance and converted for combat. This consisted of stripping down the cargo bays and turning into hangars, and mounting defensive turrets at the front and rear.

Thought lightly armored, armed, and shielded, the Quasar’s small size and versatility make it a ship of choice for small fleets and minor attack forces. It’s six squadrons of fighters also give it an effective defensive screen, making it all the more suitable as a small fleet command ship.

The Leviathan:
Did I say once more, I meant twice… maybe more! And this one goes way back, to roughly 4000 years before events in the original movies. Officially known as an Interdictor-class cruiser, this vessel was the mainstay of the Republican navy during the time of the Mandalarion Wars and was featured heavily in Star Wars: Knights of the Old Republic.

During the outbreak of the Sith War which immediately followed, the Leviathan served as Darth Revan’s flagship. After he was captured by the Jedi Order, ownership of this vessel changed to Darth Malak. The ship was responsible for obliterating the surface of Taris and was later the site where Darth Revan, now working for the Jedi Order, confronted Darth Malak for the first time since his defection.

Measuring 600 meters in length, the ship carries an arsenal of 20 quad laser cannons, 4 turbolasers, 2 ion cannons, and four squadrons of fighters. Although somewhat mild by modern Star Wars standards, she was designed to be a forerunner to the modern Star Destroyer design.

Negh’var-class Cruiser:
Despite their brawling, yelling and terrible table manners, you gotta admit; the Klingons make a fine looking ship! And this is especially true of the Negh’var-class warship, the heaviest of the heavies in the Klingon armada, serving as the command ship on many different occasions (and in multiple universes).

Ships of this kind made their first appearance in the series finale of Star Trek: TNG when two attacked the USS Pasteur. Another appeared in DS9 when a changling posing as General Martok led the Klingon fleet against the Cardassian Union, and again against Deep Space 9 when the Federation chose to oppose the invasion. They also went on to play an important role in the Dominion War alongside Federation and Romulan warships.

In addition to the standard cloaking device, the Negh’var carries an impressive array of armaments, including two massive disruptor pods mounted underneath the ship’s wings. It also carries multiple photon torpedo launchers, and several smaller emitters mounted across the ship. She is also capable of standing toe to toe with most other ships in the Alpha Quadrant in terms of velocity, making it up to speeds of Warp 9.

Ornithopter:
Not long ago, I was lamented the fact that I kept forgetting to mention anything from the Dune universe. Now I can’t seem to do a single post without including a Dune ship! This time, its the ornithopter, the curious cool ship that’s perplexed readers and conceptual artists for some time.

The most common vessel in the Imperium, the ornithopter (or ‘thopter for short) was an extremely versatile vessel that served primarily as a cargo vessel and transport. In addition, they often served in a military capacity, being fitted with lasguns, bombs and missiles. This was particulalry the case during Paul Muad’ib’s uprising, when House Atreides ‘thopters were fitted for the assault on Arrakeen and the Imperial Palace.

According to numerous descriptions taken from the expanded Dune universe, the thopter was primarily powered by jet propulsion, but relied on a set of beating wings to maintain altitude and maneuver. The concept has gone through several renditions over the years, due to the many attempts to adapt Dune to the screen. In David Lynch’s 1984 movie adaptation, ‘thopters appeared as small, box-like crat with swept wings that retracted and deployed from the fuselage.

In the 2000 miniseries, they were pictured as vertical take off and landing craft with fans mounted in pivoting wings. The featured picture (shown above left) is taken from The Road to Dune and is an artists concept of what a ‘thopter would look like. Here, we see beating wings which deploy for takeoff and retract upon landing.

USNC In Amber Clad:
Feels like its been awhile since I included anything from the Halo universe. And so here’s the Reunion, a Vladivostok-class guided missile frigate. Though somewhat old and outclassed by modern Covenant standards, several frigates played a crucial role in the Great War against Covenant forces. One such vessel was the In Amber Clad.

Armed with 12 Point Defense Guns, 40 missile pods, 5 twin rail gun turrets, a magnetic accelerator cannon, a compliment of Shiva nuclear missiles and a full compliment of Marines, dropships and escort fighters, the In Amber Clad was considered the mainstay of the old Earth fleet. Capable of atmospheric entry and landing, this ship did not need to rely on drop pods or shuttles, and could land an entire Marine force by itself.

During the Covenant War, these frigates were replaced by the larger and more heavily armed Halcyon-class cruisers. However, the In Amber Clad managed to score a significant victory over the Covenant during the Battle of Installation 05. During the course of the battle, it served as the flagship and won the day when it crashed into the Covenant ship High Charity.

VF-1 Veritech:
As requested, I’ve finally found an example from the Robotech universe! And to be honest, I wondered how long it would take. Though I’m not too familiar with this franchise, the RPG is something I remember fondly from my childhood, and some of the designs still percolate in my consciousness.

One of which is this, the VF-1 Vertiech, also known as the “Valkyrie”. This battleoid, which was adapted from alien technology (known as Protoculture),was originally designed for hand-to-hand combat with aliens which were up to 15 meters in height, the Veritech and subsequent breeds of mechas became the new face of warfare.

Mechas can function in both the fighter and mech role. Capable of flying through space, atmospheres and fighting on land, the Veritech was one of the most versatile and maneuverable mechas in the known universe. With a flight speed of Mach 3 (in atmosphere), and a top speed of 100 km/h running, she is as fast as any land vehicle or aerospace vessel. In addition, the standard Veritech carries two high-powered lasers, head mounted laser cannons, guided missiles, a rotary cannon, and is even capable of engaging in hand to hand combat.

YT-2400 Corellian Freighter:
To finish, I’m in the mood for something Corellian! And so it’s back to the Star Wars universe for this one. Much like its predecessor, the YT-1300 (a.k.a. the Millennium Falcon), the 2400 was a class of light freighter that was fast, tough and endlessly modifiable. So like the Falcon, it was a favorite amongst smugglers, merchants and privateers.

Smaller and lighter than the 1300 series, the 2400 boasted only one servo-turret for defense in addition to its shield array and armor plating. However, this could easily be remedied with the addition of extra guns and missile launchers. And its ample hull space and engine power, the 2400’s could easily accommodate additional mounts and the added weight.

One such ship which acheived notoriety during the Galactic Civil War was the Outrider, the ship of famed smuggler Dash Rendar. This ship, like most other 2400’s, was heavily modified to accommodate additional systems and weapons. Clearly, when the Corellian shipyard designated this vessel as freight transport, it was a nod and a wink!

Thank you all and good hunting! See you in next time in volume 9!