Topic: The Halcyon Crown - Chapter Two: ProtoKen System (Read 41509 times)

19_EgarAlnis · « **Reply #285 on:** January 25, 2023, 12:56:26 pm »

"I'll do it." Basil volunteers, cutting off Mac. He pauses, mid-rise, to stare at the teen. "Thank you," Mac starts, "But it would be better if one of my crew came with me instead--" "Your crew," Basil retorts, with matter of fact statement, "Is mentally compromised. I am not, and last I checked, the integrity of this vessel concerns me and my Aintin just as much as it does you." Mac opens his mouth to argue, then shuts it. "It could be dangerous--" "We are the two most dangerous individuals on this vessel." Mac opens his mouth again, then, without another word, nods.

The operation takes place an hour later. Sloan fusses over Basil's spacesuit, adjusting the outer shell and inner parts with the included pad. She double-checks the tethers, the harnesses, and the seams with a trained eye. Until Basil protests, "Sloan. We both know that I am capable of surviving in a vacuum--" She glares, cutting him off sharply. "Don't care. There's a reason for the ritual. S'good habit." The suit, masterfully manipulated by Sloan's deft typing fingers, fits Basil like a second, third, fourth and fifth skin. The suit consists of a tight jumpsuit that clings to Basil's bare skin, made of some highly-insulated material with a micron-thin cooling system weaved in. Over that is the pressurized suit, consisting of a thin layer of air trapped beneath dozens of layers of radiation shielding and puncture resistant Kevlar weaves. Strategic internal hardpoints and synth-muscle give it structural stability and keep the pressure from making the suit difficult to work in. A small, light backpack provides life support functions, small thrusters for maneuvering, and a harness that wraps around his torso to tether him to the vessel. A pair of mechanical boots are strapped to his feet and the arms of the suit extend past Basil's hands, and false, cybernetic hands match the movements of his own. The effect would be jarring for most humans, but Basil, comfortable with a shifting body, adapts in seconds. Finished, Sloan straps the pad to his wrist, and explains, “It's just recon. Scout the engine and then the bridge." "Understood. Where's Mac?" "He's taking the Marine lock."

The airlock hisses open, and Basil stares up at Mac. Were there lights, Mac’s suit would shadow Basil’s own. A three point one meter tall, meter and a half wide suit. A rounded, tapered torso with large trunks of legs and arms. It bears no obvious helmet, instead multiple sensors run down the front of the suit like buttons on a coat. A smaller set of fine manipulation arms hang underneath the bigger set, and it bristles with tools. All of it is painted in a dull, unreflective black. “Alright Basil. You ever spacewalk?” “No.” “There are small magnetic spools built into every plate on the vessel. Our boots are designed to magnetize when we press down and let go when we lift up. Walking is a bit difficult in free fall, but I advise it to keep our hands free. Lift one at a time, and if you slip free, jackknife forward and try to catch something.” Basil nods, then, after a long silence, “Understood.” “Alright. Follow me. I got heavier ordinance than you.” Mac turns around, and, lifting one foot at a time, begins to walk across the vessel. His back is strapped with a number of weapons, one of which is as tall as Basil. Some sort of launcher. Mac walks in silence, and Basil follows. He does, at one point, lift both of his feet and stumble. He gives the jets a burst, and grabs at the plate. Mac pauses, until Basil regains his footing. A spike of a fear, not often felt, twists Basil’s soul as his black eyes stare into the void that birthed him. It truly is…nothing. A massive amount of nothing. An infinite hungering nothingness. Basil knows, in his heart, in his soul, that if he were to let go, eternity would devour hi-- “Stop.” Mac speaks, a massive hand settling in front of Basil’s faceplate. “Don’t stare into the void, kid. Not today. It drives people crazy.” Slag floats into the vacuum in cooling orbs. It drips out from inside the reactor outputs. With a screwdriver, Mac leans over to dig into one. There's no end to the burning metal. Droplets of metal and exploded chunks are all that remain of the drive bell and directional controllers. “Fuck.” Is his only comment. With a lift of his hand, the two set off towards the front of the ship. Thick shards of the ‘glass’ spiral outward from the bridge, floating slowly into the infinite distance. Frozen chunks of molten slag fall away. The consoles inside are shattered and broken. Dark and cold. Veyer is still strapped within the Captain's chair. Or what remains of him. His body is torn apart, chunks of blackened meat floating in vacuum. One arm is completely missing-- “Looks like he fragged himself.” Mac announces. “Let's get back inside."

Mac sits at the head of the table once again. He still wears the undersuit of his armor, and sweat clings to it. "Our engine is melted and the bridge has a massive breach. We can seal the breach, but it looks like the electronics are fried. I don't know how much data was saved. Our engineering suite is down, and I don't think we have much in the way of repair components.” “What’s our travel time?” Sloan asks, into the long silence after the report. “Two thousand years to the nearest system. We barely escaped the acceleration well.” A woman volunteers. “Jesus.” Mac murmurs, rubbing his unshaved jaw. “What’s the probability?” “The Cryopod Intelligence gave us two percent.” The same woman reports. “Even if it strips the unused ones?” “Yes, sir.” Silence falls.

Spoiler: Status (click to show/hide)

Spoiler: Objectives (click to show/hide)

Spoiler: Powers (click to show/hide)

Spoiler: Inventory (click to show/hide)

Spoiler: Bonds (click to show/hide)

Spoiler: Concepts (click to show/hide)

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Superdorf · « **Reply #286 on:** January 25, 2023, 01:06:49 pm »

The nearest system will be a Plague well in two millennia, if left uncontested. We'll have to try and alter the rules of the game.

With time and careful application of Will, young warrior, you can reconfigure this vessel to your liking. What machine components could turn this predicament around? Find out, and start making repairs and redesigns via Synthesis.

S1lentWanderer · « **Reply #287 on:** January 25, 2023, 04:16:09 pm »

Quote from: <̴m̷n̸e̵m̵o̸n̴i̷c̷ ̵a̵r̸c̴h̶i̸v̸e̵>̶

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

The time for subtlety has passed.
Without your powers, the odds are very low.
Desperate times call for desperate measures.
Repair the ship, improve upon it.
You are in a unique place to help them,
To earn their trust in a way that they cannot ignore.
Without you, their story ends here,
Stranded in the void, that hungering darkness
that swallowed your senses earlier.
Do not despair. Your situation is not beyond help.
You have learned well the secrets of technology.
Use these secrets to breathe new life into this ship.

Devastator · « **Reply #288 on:** January 25, 2023, 06:23:47 pm »

There's a better way to go about that sort of thing.

They're going into cryosleep, yes? Do some helping to improve the odds a bit, but then claim you've done all you can.

Then let them sleep, but don't sleep yourself.

While they're out, fix the engines and reconfigure the ship to get somewhere in a useful amount of time.

You can then, eventually, find an asteroid or something and make it into a new ship, re-break this one, and then wake everyone up, pretending that you got rescued by some automated ship with an AI.

You're free, you got somewhere useful, you can make a better ship, and by spinning off an independent AI there is now someone else for the crew to be suspicious about. It'll also let you do more with your powers by making tools and such anyone can operate, letting you hide your nature as a plague creature further.

You don't even necessarily need to fix the engines, just find a stray comet or something to make into the 'rescue ship'.

Superdorf · « **Reply #289 on:** January 25, 2023, 08:52:11 pm »

I'm not too worried about secrecy at this point. The marines think Βασιλίσκος is a Noble, recall, and I doubt they know very much about Noble abilities.

BlackPaladin99 · « **Reply #290 on:** January 25, 2023, 09:28:18 pm »

no trickery. Just fix the damn ship. Warn them about the plague’s plans. Say we got it out of a data vault or whatever.

Devastator · « **Reply #291 on:** January 25, 2023, 10:51:54 pm »

Quote from: Superdorf on January 25, 2023, 08:52:11 pm

I'm not too worried about secrecy at this point. The marines think Βασιλίσκος is a Noble, recall, and I doubt they know very much about Noble abilities.

(It's more of an accomplishment for me. Can we solve the issue without letting everyone know about our abilities?)

ZBridges · « **Reply #292 on:** January 25, 2023, 11:31:11 pm »

+1 to attempting to use our powers to repair the ship. If that isn't feasible, consider how to best transmit a distress signal using the parts on hand.

King Zultan · « **Reply #293 on:** January 26, 2023, 03:47:55 am »

+1 to fixing the ship with whatever bits of the ruined sections we can get a hold of.

We probably shouldn't send out a distress signal because it could attract the attention of the plague we just escaped or pirates.

ZBridges · « **Reply #294 on:** January 26, 2023, 01:33:41 pm »

Better that than being stranded for 2,000 years, but hopefully there is an alternative solution.

King Zultan · « **Reply #295 on:** January 27, 2023, 03:23:46 am »

Quote from: ZBridges on January 26, 2023, 01:33:41 pm

Better that than being stranded for 2,000 years, but hopefully there is an alternative solution.

I get that but we should try to fix the engines first, then if we can't we can try the distress signal.

Eschar · « **Reply #296 on:** January 28, 2023, 12:13:01 pm »

The navy thinking we're a Noble is enough to get away with repairing the vessel, especially being a Noble exiled a while ago to the distant Rim, which means they have even less idea what abilities we "should" have.

19_EgarAlnis · « **Reply #297 on:** February 01, 2023, 12:46:20 pm »

"Let me see what I can do." Basil rises from his seat and begins down the corridor. Mac lifts a hand dismissively, and Sloan stares after the young 'man'. Basil doesn't repair anything, not yet, but instead paces through the empty corridors of the vessel. He examines every surface, every machine component and every deck plate. Sums mass in his head, exact counts of copper, iron, carbon, alloys and magnetic metals. The average weight of the vessel. The hardlight shields designed to protect against micro meteors that would rip the vessel in twain. He stares into the fusion reactor, a sun contained, and considers its low thrum of life. Considers the silent artificial intelligences that keep this fragile machine alive in the harshest of environments. It takes the better part of a day to account for all the materials. Then comes the math. It is not a kind math, or one that allows for any tolerances of inefficiency. He works the problems and solutions over in his head, examining the engineering solutions he can devise with the knowledge and materials he has. The biggest issue is lack of silicon, germanium, gold, and uranium. While he could synthesize these materials from hydrogen, which is in abundance in the fuel cells, the amounts he needs would take a couple hundred years of constant work or a drastic redesign of the ship's fusion reactor. Basil slips into the sensor array, scanning for any planetary bodies within the area. Unfortunately, there is none. The nearest point where Basil could find those resources would have to be an Oort Cloud or Kuiper Belt. Regardless of decision, he adjusts the sensors to wake or ping him if there’s any approaching heavenly bodies. Or even another ship. The distress beacon is already sending out its call into the darkness, telling anyone and everyone that there has been a tier-five mass casualty incident aboard. Food is the next issue. The cryopods are the primary survival strategy for long trips. So there's only a year's worth of food remaining on the vessel for the seven human occupants. There is a protein and waste recycler, but survival requires growth, and the systems are inefficient. While he has no need for food, the humans aboard do. A). He can scrap most of the cryopods, living quarters and everything else that makes the ship habitable, using the electronic materials to rebuild the complicated magnetic controls of the plasma thrust engine. This would allow a max speed of .25^c. The trip would take sixteen years, but only two people would be able to use the cryopods. There is seven people aboard now. B).He can scrap the non-vital electronics aboard, the weapons and other equipment. The material is enough to build small engines that will bring max speed up to .004^c. The trip will take one thousand years, but with the excess electronics aboard, and some tweaks to the code, the artificial intelligences can repair the cryopods more effectively, bringing survival rates of all passengers up to seventy-five percent. C).Or, he can do something incredibly risky. All of the antimatter hydrogen fuel, vented and detonated, would bring the speed of the vessel to .65^c. A blessing is the relative lack of drifting hydrogen atoms in the cosmic medium, nearby. The radiation would need to be contained, as would the explosion, but the speed gain would be immense. It would test the limits of Basil's willpower. If he critically fails, the vessel could be consumed in the explosion, turning him into a fragment on the shrapnel. If he fails to contain the radiation, everyone on board and every electronic system would be fried in the wash, doomed to a slow death. But, within six years, they would be in the system. D).An alternative is that Basil, waking after the rest sleep, spends hundreds of years synthesizing the required materials from hydrogen, while using his smaller engine design to increase the acceleration. The lack of stimulus over such prolonged time frames may have negative results on his mental state. There's only so much daytime entertainment one can bear.

Mac clambers down the ladder into the reactor bay. Basil mind lingers on the reactor, his eyes shut as he runs through the math once more. There's no way to see the lightning in the metaphorical bottle, but its hum and gravity has a unique pull. It pulses like a heart, thrumming with power. “Dinner is ready, Basil.” “Dinner?” “Yeah.” Basil rises, and the two head back into the vessel proper, away from the humming reactor. Away from the harsh math. The dinner is a massive bowl of noodles, tossed with soggy vegetables and chunks of beige-gray protein. Sloan and another of the crew are rinsing off a few pots and pans beneath a water dispenser. A flat sheet cake sits in a pan, frosted with what chemical analysis tells Basil is pure sugar and fat. Its a very appealing off-brown, beige color. A clear liquid sits in a bottle at the center of the table, beside which are several smaller glasses, all filled. Basil takes a seat next to Sloan. She hands him one of those small glasses and takes one for herself. Mac lifts his glass, as do the rest. Basil follows suit. “For Veyer. A good man, and for everyone else we lost. May they live forever in memory.” The intonation sounds ritualized, a repetition learned by heart. They tap the glass to the table, and throw the drink back. Basil, following the social cues, does the same, and the liquid, an almost pure ethanol, burns his simulated throat. He shuts off those sensors as the table begins to hack and cough. Sloan and Mac seem to be the only ones who can hold their liquor, and they eye each other across the table. “I’ve decided that tomorrow we’re heading into the pods.” Mac announces. “Basil, if you can fix it, you have a week. Make sure to shut out the lights when you get done.” Then, the meal continues in silence.

The clear ethanol pushes them to emotional extremes. Some cry. Others crowd around pads to watch favorite shows. All of them record last videos, queuing them up to the transmitter whenever the relay comes back into range. Sloan and Mac are both passed out in the corner, after polishing off most of a second bottle of liquor. But Basil picks at his cake, and thinks of the future. I’ll survive no matter what, but I would prefer to keep Sloan alive. She has been kind.

Spoiler: Status (click to show/hide)

Spoiler: Objectives (click to show/hide)

Spoiler: Powers (click to show/hide)

Spoiler: Inventory (click to show/hide)

Spoiler: Bonds (click to show/hide)

Spoiler: Concepts (click to show/hide)

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Superdorf · « **Reply #298 on:** February 01, 2023, 01:09:20 pm »

Sloan's life takes priority. After that, the lives of the other passengers and our ability to outpace the Plague.
Are you capable, given time, of redesigning the main reactor?

Does option B already consume every element of the life support save the seven required pods, as per option A? Even with the entire crew preserved in cryosleep, most of the vessel's habitation systems will be extraneous.

19_EgarAlnis · « **Reply #299 on:** February 01, 2023, 01:13:27 pm »

Yes, to the modification, and yes again, with the priority being life support within the cryopod bay and continued repair of the cryopods, to answer the question.

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Author Topic: The Halcyon Crown - Chapter Two: ProtoKen System (Read 41509 times)

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