NationStates Jolt Archive

Sol System Heliopause

Out here were very few ships. The vast majority of those that left the system did not venture this far out, for there was no need. It was pointless. Thus this was where the secret work had been carried out - or, rather, even further behind, inside the Oort Cloud. Life was dangerous in there, but through a monumental level of effort, several different nations had combined in efforts in a glorious mission: to build a vessel that could explore the deepest depths of this galaxy, and, possibly, if arrangements could be decided appropriately, exploit what was found. That the exploitation would be tougher than the exploration was obvious, but the exploration was what had galvanized the nations into action - the scientists had suggested, the officials had leapt at the publicity stunt-

And then silence had been desired. Nothing could interfere - not public opinion, not errant attackers intent on stealing secrets...

Nothing.

Technologies would be merged, attitudes put aside, desires joined together in symphony.

In fact, that's just what the ship was called - Solar Symphony - even though the name suggested a greater unity than was real. Naturally, the nations involved all had some links, or ties with one or more of the others and naturally, they got along pretty well. But cultural differences always rear their heads; there had been difficulties in production, clashes in what access could be allowed...

A modular construction had been decided upon. Each nation would contribute one or more parts of the whole, with an initial agreement stating that each part would be considered to all others. This was meaningless, but it did add an air of equality that otherwise might be missing.

Iluvauromen, who, along with its ally the Federation of Sentient Peoples had sparked the project, would be supplying point-defence systems and propulsion, as well as some of the orbit-to-ground craft. It would also be providing a solid chunk of the command staff (roughly half of which were Human), and a small number of engineers - plus a few Nenyar and Noldor scientists: sociologists, philologists, astronomers, physicists, and chemists. There were also others on board - service providers of various sorts, such as personal stylists, librarians, logistics experts, agronomists, agriculturalists, and so on. All the critical needs professions were designated equally - so each state had provided an equal number. And of course, they had had the concern of sexism, too; so there were an exact match of males and females. Only a very limited number were married, to prevent crew tensions.

In all, there were two thousand persons on board the ship; a thousand men and a thousand women.

Iluvauromen would also supply radiation shielding and mercury mirror/lens setups for the 'fingers' - sensor drones which would orbit the craft at great distance, and relay data back to the ship, giving numerous frames of reference to the ships own sensors, or examining the ship from the outside for damage inspection purposes - or various other tasks that might be assigned.

Then there was the E-cannon; that was also Iluvauromeni in design, and, like everything else that was sensitive, would only be handled by the Iluvauromeni. The section in particular was genetically coded to those personnel only.

The same was true for all of the 'sensitive' equipment; classified technology had been supplied by all the nations involved, but none of them wished the others to gain that technology freely. It was likely that later in the mission such barriers might break down, if arrangements could be made, but for now at least... That was the way it would be. Iluvauromeni hands would fix Iluvauromeni technology alone.

The doctors, and librarians, then, by definition, were the freest. They would heal all of those who needed it, and provide information to all of those who needed it.

But the command staff were the difficult problem. They had been divided equally, of course, but what was the hierarchy to be?

Rather than confronting the issue, it was decided that it was easier to avoid it - in part - altogether. The 'captain' would rotate through three shifts: each 'captain' would only be the 'captain' in their shift except in case of emergency. As there were more than three states taking part, this meant that the other 'captains' served as 'first officer' for the other 'captains'; the switch between 'captain' and 'first officer' would switch in orderly and regular fashion.

But in an emergency, only two persons took those positions, wherein they became pretty much equal in heft, at least in terms of accepted rank. Those two had not yet been decided upon by the governments involved, however. There were still arguments on that - but all was good. The vessel was not scheduled to depart the system for another ten days.

Silently, she drifts out here, accompanied by vessels seen and unseen. The stealthiest, hardest to spot ships have been deployed to accompany her; she has already completed a test flight, and she appears to work perfectly.

And all her crew are aboard.

All that remains is the brief period before departure...

And then comes the fun part; the exploration of a system, undesginated, sixteen thousand light years away. A vast jump 'forwards', vaster than perhaps is easily imaginable to the crew; thus a nervous tension, an excitement, is tangible upon her decks...

And the Solar Symphony is all but ready to depart.

Aye!

Or, a tag for a post tomorrow.

As was the case with many others, Taraskovyan personnel were on site of the works as soon as they were summoned to complete their part of the ship. The Federation, not being as powerful military wise as ICEL, at least not in space, thus concentrated on other tasks than the armament related ones, which were no less important and some could even say that they were vital, for the Taraskovyans had the duty of ensuring sufficient food supplies aboard the ship. For this, the latest ECTOS technologies were used in several minor size modules, creating extremely efficient plantations to grow all sorts of imaginable and unimaginable crops.

Moreover, the Taraskovyans have always been known for their particular attention to the mood of their personnel. Stress was to be avoided absolutely to guarantee maximum efficiency from the crew. And so, several other modules (not that great of size either) were created, but this time not with plantations, but with artificially recreated environments to suit all possible needs (except, sadly enough, for those who loved high mountains, for there was not room to place kilometer long peaks), the ECTOS technology allowing to quickly change the flora and fauna settings to suit the desires of the moment. Obviously, the Federation was rather reluctant to give away full specifics of the ECTOS, but neither did it put barbed wire around each blade of grass.

Some other equipment was provided, such as various types of space-to-planet craft, as well as atmosphere capable ones, simply because the Taraskovyan pilots, obviously, were used to their systems created by their nation (the BSIs and neuronal control interfaces were most particularly appreciated by the aforementioned pilots). In other words – the Federation supplied its part of the crew with everything that could be deemed necessary without taking a lot of cargo space. Of course, the stocks allowed largely for items to be used by the personnel from other nations.

All in all, the Taraskovyans were in and they were ready to assist their partners to the largest possible extent.

[OOC: Post subject to getting extended with further details on the participation. Just a little tag for now ^_^ ]

With a very large stake in construction of the ship, there are a great many LRR engineers on site from the start. However, now that the project has fininshed, the army of engineers and builders has reduced to perhaps a battallion or so, including the LRR crewmembers.

The LRR engineers are mostly concerned with the propulsion and medical systems, those being the general areas of LRR speciality. Building for such a large and heavily-crewed vessel is unusual, given the fact that even the large spherical independent cruisers have crews that rarely exceed fifty. The requirements for robots and other intelligences are quite a bit different from those of humans.

But all in all, the engineers and builders are confident in a job well done, on the propulsion systems at least.

Avram Zappa, a robot, surveys the towering engines that he had just spent the last few weeks installing.

"Very nice everyone," he says to the assembled builders and engineers, who nod and skank in agreement.

The collaboration with the various nations that had worked together on the Solar Symphony had been the first major Tartarian venture outside of its allies. How its involvement with the project came about is a long story, but it did, and working hard in conjunction with the others, had helped to create and man the now complete deep space exploration craft.

But despite its involvement and the amount of effort that it had put into helping build, few people in Tartarus that were not personally part of the project knew of it, nor would they until the craft returned home, full of its prizes of discovery. The members of the crew had given their friends and family various reasons for their long absence, while others simple vanished off the face of the world.

One of the crew, the most senior ranked of the Tartarian military personnel on board, walked around her cabin, reading another communiqué that had reached her from Tartarus, recapping several points that had been covered and crossed until the words were practically burned into her head. If she blinked, she was sure she could read the imprint in her mind.

‘Captain’ Tilda Rorik threw the dossier on the bed, and rubbed her aching neck. It was not long now until the mission got underway, not that she had been away from the vessel for several weeks, having to use the time to familiarise herself with all about her. They had been through months of training in simulators, but despite the closeness to the real thing, it did not quite catch the whole feel. She could still remember her excitement as she stepped aboard, feeling the craft ‘alive’ around her.

Walking over to her console, she punched in a few commands and watched as the desired information filled the screen before her. Selecting a few options, she settled down and began to compile her report.

* * * * *

Lara Trent ran her eyes over the list of medication that it was her responsibility to ensure was taken stock of. Finishing her task, she moved back into the main medical centre, the place very sterile and already containing a couple of the crew, who had managed to cause themselves minor injuries before they had even left their stationary position.

Walking over to one of the beds, she looked over the sleeping crew member, grateful that he happened to be human. Not that she had anything to against non-humans; it was just that her knowledge of them was slightly weaker than that of people of her own kind. She shook her head, knowing she would have to get rid of that mentality if she was going to be a worthwhile member of the crew.

She looked at her watch and smiled, seeing a break coming up. She had pulled a double shift, covering for one of her fellow nurses who had gotten lucky the night before, and had managed to get herself a hangover. Lara had not been over impressed at being buzzed in the early hours of the morning by her pleading colleague.

Moving swiftly through the room, checking each of the beds as she walked passed, Lara disappeared into one of the side rooms and continued with her daily chores.

* * * * *

Emptying the last box, Doctor Helena Green looked over at her colleague and smiled. They had spent the last week adding the finishing touches to the lab, the last of the items finally finding their places. “I think that’s it. I believe we are ready.” She put the last piece of equipment into the cupboard, and closed the door shut. Turning she gaze around the laboratory making sure they had not missed anything.

“If I see one more cargo box, I swear I will go mad.” The older of the two by eight years, and the senior member of the Xenobiology department, Doctor Caleb Harker laughed as he placed some packaging back into one of the empty cases. “All we have to do is check we have everything, not that we have time to correct any shortages in the amount of time before we set off.” The dark haired doctor walked over to one of the lab assistants, who was busily stocking a few shelves. “Make sure you keep them in strict alpha order, I don’t want us to make any mistakes by grabbing the wrong box just because you don’t know your alphabet.”

Helena shook her head and grinned to herself. Her boss had always been one to fret over such little things, which was why she tended to organise things for him. “Caleb, Joanna has been doing her job long enough to know where things go.” She cast the other woman a smile. “I’ll help her while you start checking the inventory, and then I’ll come over and help.”

Caleb laughed and nodded. He had been working with the fair haired woman ever since she came to GT Technologies from university, in fact he had headhunted her after reading some of the work she had done. “One of these days, Helena, we are going to have to have a serious talk about which one of us works for who.” He continued to chuckle as he walked over to a workstation and began checking the contents laid out on the surface.

“I thought we already knew that, Doctor Harker.” She grinned playfully. “And once we are done, you can make me a coffee.” Winking at him, she moved over to where the lab assistant was working and began to help her with her task.

* * * * *

The music filled the room, it was still early in the day, but a few of the crew members were already gathered in the bar. Located on one of the middle desks, somewhere between the living quarters and work areas, ‘Solar Tranquillity’ bustled during certain parts of the day, especially between shift rotations, where those who had spent the last few hours working came in to wind down. Not that the place always seemed to live up to its name, on several occasions it had seen its share of flared tempers, and they had not even began on the journey yet.

Garnet Locke shook her red hair and walked over to a customer who was standing by the bar waiting to be served. She worked behind the bar, and sometimes during times when entertainment was laid on, she even took part in the odd event, but her normal business and reason for being on board was to keep filling the glasses of the patrons, and give them a friendly smile.

At nineteen years of age, there was little other way that she would be able to get herself involved in such a project, and when she saw the advert, although at the time it had been advertised as a cruise, which she instantly assumed meant on the sea…but she was here now, and was about to go sailing on a much bigger scale.

She took the man’s order and moments later placed the drinks on the counter, giving her customary smile. As the bar became clear, she took a moment to gaze at the at the star strewn sky that lay outside the window, the usual mixed emotions spreading over her as she looked, excitement and fear. For a moment, her features did not know how to form, until finally the professional smile won over as another customer approached her.

* * * * *

Professor Laurence Davies sat in his cabin, around him laid several piles of books, scattered across the floor. Despite being in his free time, the man could not give up working, knowing that no matter how much you knew there were always plenty of new things to learn. And this expedition was testament to that. They were set to go to places he, for one, had never been, and maybe, just maybe, he could find something that no one else had found before.

So it was with these thoughts in his head that he worked through a serious of articles written by his peers, detailing their findings or suppositions relating to life outside the know universe. He knew that there were people that lived beyond the scope of his eye, pinpricks of light that was the sun in the middle of some planet system or other, but what about the places where people had not travelled, these were the bits that interested him.

He had been interested in Astronomy for most of his life, even though that was not the career path he had taken. In a career, Professor Davies was a genetic engineer, having worked in the field for more time than he wished to recall. His greying temples indicated the number of years he had passed, and added an air of sophistication, not that he needed to look that way, as he was well respected in his field and a prominent member of the Tartarian science community.

* * * * *

James Guthrie walked through the double door to the ‘Solar Tranquillity, and headed over to the bar where his friend was already ordering the drinks. Walking over to the man, he tapped him on the back to announce his arrival, before seating himself on the stool next to him.

“I hope you have ordered large ones?” James inquired, before letting out a large sigh as he stretched his body. “That had to have been the longest day.”

His friend, Theo Rawley picked up one of the drinks that had been placed before him and handed it to his friend. “Knock yourself out.” He grinned, as he raised his own glass to his lips, drinking down half the contents. “I don’t know about you, but I’ll be glad when all this waiting is over and we can get going. I swear half the crew is moping around, twiddling their fingers.”

James laughed. “They won’t be when once we are on our way. They’ll probably be racing around like headless chickens.” He took a drink from his glass, leaving little more than an inch at the bottom. “Hey, Red, two more beers here please.” He cast Garnet a grin before turning back to his friend. “I swear she wants me.” Laughing out loud for a moment, he then knocked back the rest of his drink, before replacing it back on the bar.

“In your dreams, mate.” Theo laughed along with his friend. “She’d probably have you for dinner.”

Garnet appeared with two beers and placed them in front of the two men, giving them her customary smile, before turning her attention to Theo and winking at him, having heard their conversation. She walked off to the other side of the bar, grinning to herself.

James raised an eyebrow, as he looked incredulously at his friend, not saying a word as he picked up his pint and took a large gulp.

One of those injured, in fact, was Iluvauromeni. His name was Arturia - an odd name for a man, even in his own culture - and he had hair that was soft, short, and downy. It covered most of his body, as well. He was thoroughly Human, although his amber eyes had drawn questions in the past - "Nenyar grandparent?" was the most frequent suggestion. Being Dth'gari, and being somewhat rooted in the past - his father had always been so, and his father before - he found such a suggestion distasteful.

Naturally enough, he had not let that on to the testers. For the Iluvauromeni contingent, at the very least, had been stringently tested - but not with psionics. Psionics had been judged to be unfair in this situation; they would put too much pressure on those willing to go, and perhaps even give too much away to those few psionics among the Iluvauromen-born crewmembers.

So, then, a battery of psychological tests. He had lied to most of the questions; only a few had answers of which he approved entirely. He knew that the others had all done the same; and, annoyingly, he also knew that the testers knew. The problem was, he had no idea what the testers thought of that.

He stretched on his bunk, remembering a line from an old book he had once read: "Since they're all going to go crazy anyway, why not just send the crazy ones and save them the trouble?"

* * *

Which in the case of 3rd Navigator Tharash, was probably too true to be comfortable. He had a reputation for flying, in fact - he had been a pilot with what had previously been the IAF, but was now the CAF. Then he had moved 'upstairs' - into the Academy at the Freedom Yards at Vilya Elenosto, and then onto the Retribution. There he had earned the nickname 'Flusty', although no-one could specifically say why.

He had several theories.

But he was solid enough on the job; just a little crazy off it. He played pranks; he was obtuse; he was annoying; he did not get on with most of his crewmates at any given assignment; but he was damned good at what he did.

He knew that was why he was aboard. He further knew all of the above that went with it. But, the truth of it was, his nature was weakening with age. He was not Human; he was a Nenya, and a slow-to-develop one at that. Most gain some degree of maturity in their mid-twenties (even Nenya have the weakness of sporadic stupidity eternally, however, as had been more than in evidence via governmental decisions at times over the years), but he had not. He was fifty-seven years old this autumn; and still he had not learned to get on with people.

In fact, he was depressed. The walls were the wrong colour; there was no sky; he could not see the stars when the lights dimmed for 'nighttime'...

The list went on and on.

He, too, was bored. Launch was way too far in the distance for his liking. But he had to keep himself to himself; he could not face the possibility that he might ruin any chance of a fresh, good start if he made some hideous interpersonal error.

So he sat off to one side in Hall F (it's technical name - it was in fact a bar named the 'Solar Tranquillity') - which was not an Iluvauromeni designated bar, for there was none, as the crew was expected to intermingle beyond racial and cultural barriers (it was hoped so, at least) - where none would approach him.

He hoped. Except, of course, they always did, didn't they? Some kind soul would think he was lonely, would feel sorry for him. Then he'd say something stupid, and away they'd go - another person who would never consider him a friend.

"Typical," he murmoured, already annoyed at the completely theoretical situation he had dreamed up.

* * *

Suazia was not Human, Nenya, or Quendi. Nor was her kind to be counted amongst any of the myriad of species crammed into the ship; she was not even like those who were similar to her, in fact. Well, they weren't crammed, unless you thought of the green world that was far away, in-system.

She was not, in fact, organic. She was, although not in the form that organics thought, merely eighteen years old; newly 'hatched' from her WorldSim upbringing.

The WorldSim was home to a host of developing ASIs, now; all of them raised by Human or Nenya parents, all of whom were, in fact, the technicians who had ensured their proper stimulation, their proper education, and so on.

Suazia, like all fully sentient AIs in the Commonality, was a Commonality Citizen by right. Therefore, she was not a servant to the ship. And in fact...most of those on board, who had no doubt not perused the entirety of the gargantuan crew files, would not even know what she was. She, then, did not see the need to highlight the fact that her body was in fact a clever - exceptionally clever, to the point of perfection - imitiation.

She also knew that Humans tended to excrete increased levels of pheremone in her vicinity. Their heartrates increased, she also noted. It was rather amusing.

Trained in the art of flirting, too, she conversed easily with an engineer - she did not know where he was from - even going so far as to push her shoulder up as she giggled at something he said. Of course, it would go nowhere, even though she was ably equipped. She did not touch him, and, she presumed, as this was the cultural expectation in Iluvauromen - where certain touches to certain limbs had certain meanings in the everlasting mating ritual - this would indicate she was merely being friendly.

She smiled engagingly, and ordered another cool glass of water from the bar, before turning back to the man.

[OOC: Okay, bit of get-to-know-the-characters so I and we know who is who and doing what, then we can go ahead with the launch, quick final tests, and finally the beginning of the really good stuff.

Also, I am very sorry for my absence; I have had terrible difficulties with my phone company (I'm not naming names, like BT for example) who failed to deal with noise on my line for some weeks. GRAH! Humble apologies.]

Avram Zappa and his team run innumerable tests on the Solar Symphony's engines. Every square centimeter of the engines is examined, and large, spindly test gear works its way across the drive arrays. No piece is left unexamined as the Robots and their automated equipment work to make sure everything in their area of responsibility runs smoothly.

With launch not at all far away, the tireless Zappa and his team work around the clock, immune to fatigue although quite vulnerable to boredom.

The Robots will take a break once the ship is underway...after all, they are happy to do what they do best.

OCC: Sorry for the short post. Expect more once the ship gets going.

Darragi waved a hand vaguely at the engine core, giving a quiet sigh. "Look, it all checks out fine. I don't see what the hassle is. We've tested it on other ships already..."

"Yeah, but mass is imporant, Darra. You know that."

The two engineers sat in their quarters; they shared, as they were brothers. Twins, in fact. But born more than a day apart.

One day can make alot of difference.

"So? So this is a supermassive ship. The calculations are the same. The variables are the same. Do we know of any singularities on the course? No. Do we suspect any? No. What are the odds, Tair? What?"

Tair, with the black hair common amongst the Dth'gari (although his brother's hair was brown, for they were not identical), sighed heavily. It was an argument they had been having for months; the drive itself was almost conventional T-drive, really, but the computer...now the computer was the real difference.

The computer was requied to carry out trillions of calculations for every Hop that made up one Jump. Each Hop, of course, had to be accurate inside a certain envelope, or the computer could not plan ahead, and travel time increased. So accuracy and precision were required. One could not afford to be accurate without being precise; that meant a wild Hop that could place one in the heart of a sun. Or worse.

The advantage was, they wouldn't know if it didn't work.

But it would. Tair was convinced of that. But he wasn't convinced that the ship ought to be loaded with people the first test; so this, more than anything, fueled his argument that more time was needed. More testing. "Not good. But hey, micro-singularities are just as deadly as the big beasties. And those are supposed to be quite common. You know how that that little automated scout died, right? You remember what it looked like when we sent out another to collect it?"

The other man sighed heavily. Tair could see that his brother understood, maybe even agreed. But he wanted to get out there. There was only one day remaining, now, until the launch; the tension aboard ship was almost worrying, it was so intense. Tair was also unnerved by the Nenyar aboard; they were taking it all very calmly, as if one gallavanted off across the galaxy every day.

He also didn't like the way they spoke; they smelled kinda funny, too. Like cinnamon, some of them; it wasn't unpleasant, quite the opposite. But he was jealous; he had heard that the Nenya males gave off some pheremone or other that meant that women rarely resisted their charms.

A part of him knew that was utter rubbish - but he was Dth'gari. He did not need a reason to dislike the Nenyar - even if some of his friends were, in fact, Nenya.

He peered at Darra; Darra liked the Nenyar. He liked Nenyar music - the fast, semi-'classical' stuff that they liked so much, with pipes and flutes and harps and guitars; Tair did not.

"Sure," Darra finally replied softly. "Sure I did. But look, we're not going to run into one. That's why we downsized the risk potential. That's why the mission is going ahead, isn't it? Because us SL propulsion guys all banded together and told the bigwigs we were hot to trot. Yes?"

Tair nodded; but felt no more comfortable for it.

"Sure."

Prometheus was a strange name for a Nenya, but there it was, right on his nameplate above the rank insignia. As with all rank insignia and nameplates for the crew - a soft blue uniform had been chosen for the Command staff - all text was in a plain, easy to read styling of the Roman alphabet...in English. All the doors were also only marked in English; those who did not speak the language before had been expected to learn it. Otherwise, they had not been selected.

For the Iluvauromeni, that was just fine. They all spoke English anyway; Captain Prometheus ux-Rihad, decorated former Flag Commodore of the 3 Stellar Battlegroup, former commander of the flagship of that Battlegroup, the IDSS Retribution, spoke sixteen languages himself. Languages were widely loved amongst the Nenyar; languages, song, fencing, martial arts, music, science. Those were the loves of his people.

Prometheus was, however, an eccentric man. He wrote with a pen; he kept a notepad in his waist pocket; and he didn't watch TVC. He read the news from a paper - one made of real paper, the Star Chronicle readership two thousand - and actually owned a kettle and a toaster, rather than the new, nifty modern gizmoes that boiled water near-instantly and turned bread into toast in seconds without the requirement of thermal energy.

He was an old-fashioned man, and that was not entirely a surprise. He was, after all, two hundred and seven years old. It's rather difficult not to get a little set in your ways; but then, Prometheus was more set in his ways than most, even so.

He stretched - a little lazily - as he stepped out into the wide corridor. All the corridors were wide; the ship needed to appear spacious, as not all of its crew would always get the oppurtunity to get planetside on a regular basis.

The light was still a little harsh out here, he noticed. He made a mental note to dispatch another request to check out the corridor lights in this section-

And then sprinted off, ignoring the faintly astonished look of a young woman walking in the opposite direction; for he was fast. Feet lightly touching the deck, barely glancing against its surface, and off again-

The joy of running set in quickly, his breath steadying, heartrate matched perfectly to the rhythm of his stride; at one with his step. Running was a way of life, for him, and the corridors that weaved their way through the ship were a relatively good substitute for his usual run along the banks of the River Rhea when he was Earthside; gently curving uphill or downhill here or there to provide different gradients to ensure muscle strength retention beyond that maintained in the gym, the corridors were quite exhilerating to run along.

He did not make much sound as he ran; not detectable to Human ears, at least, for the flooring was smooth, and simple to run on in that elegant fashion one expects of a member of a species 'descended' from the Elves.

And so, silently, feet and heart and breath in unison, he flew down the corridor-