Murdock guffawed loudly and then shook his head laughing.
“You know, Ms. Rouhani, we are talking about warships. Pretty is not normally a part of the design considerations.”
Mr. al-Jamal scoffed.
“Tell that to the Meridian line of warships.”
Commander Aang answered patiently:
“Most serious soldiers don’t count those among warships. They are parade ships. Their primary function is to look pretty and powerful.
Any serious warship of the same volume will eat the Meridian ship for breakfast and then look for more.”
I tilted my head and looked from Aang to al-Jamal.
“Meridian line?”
Aang sighed.
“Meridian is a semi-independent ship design bureau. The ships they design are built by ABAS.”
He laughed coldly.
“They are the purest form of form over substance.
The ships are roughly stylized after some predator animal, mostly a raptor.
Beautiful ships, from an aesthetical point of view. All that at the cost of usability.
Massively reduced firing arcs, underpowered, overheated, and for their type ludicrously lightly armored.
The sensors work fine, for anything directly in front of it, but they have multiple dead angles where the ship is essentially blind.
Basically, they are yachts that pretend to be warships.
Fuck, I can’t even fault either Meridian or ABAS here. There is a market for those things. Mostly as the ‘all-important’ personal transport for some CEO or owner of an A-tier corp, or some third-world dictator.”
Murdock shook his head.
“The problem is that some people in power actually buy into the bullshit that those things are real warships.
Fuck, even the UNAN had a few in the Senegalese rebellion. They’ve wasted the lives of good men and women to send their showpieces into battle.”
I nodded.
“So… no prettying our ships. I am all for that anyway. I don’t see the point of the form-over-function philosophy. Form is fine if one needs it, as long as it does not impact the function.”
“A quine that's gey canny tae mah liking. Whaur were ye when ah wis young enough tae coort a lassie like yersel'?”
“Probably still a dream of my mother.”
While Murdock, and Aang, seemed pleased about my opinion here, al-Jamal looked as if he had bitten into a lemon.
Botont tried another time to change our opinions on the matter.
“But… the aesthetics of any ship are important. Our ships will tell of our ability, of our artistry.”
Naveen growled softly but then answered:
“Mr. Botont, we are talking about warships. Their function is to dish out and take damage. The only way they need to impress is with their deadliness.
If we make some prettified warships, no serious customer would come even close to our designs.
You can reserve your artistic vein to civilian shipping.”
“But freighters are even more drab and boring than warships.”
I was prevented from intervening by Michael.
“Mr. Botont, this was a yard mostly for pleasure ships. Yachts, passenger ships, anything designed to impress.
It was not particularly successful in that regard either I might add. That will change in the future when our ships will be just that much better. And then you and the other ‘artists’ in your staff can live the dream of the yacht designer to the end for all I care.
Hell, it might even be a good idea to offer some ‘protected’ yachts, which we will call the prettified pseudo warships.
As long as we do not market them as serious warships that is.
But right now, we are here to build up our navy. Our military. The majority owner of our company as well as the intended commanding officer of that navy explicitly stated that they insist on function over form.
You! Will! Comply! Do I make myself clear? Or do I need to look for a new lead naval architect?”
Botont gulped hard, and I could sweat running down his forehead, but after a few seconds he managed to get out his answer:
“Y… yes sir. You m… made tha… that clear. We will do what you want.”
After a few seconds, Mr. Crombie cleared his throat.
“We… ahem, we had some thoughts about warship designs. Nothing too deep, obviously, but the general direction.”
He looked nervously at Abou, followed by Botont and al-Jamar.
“We… well, we have analyzed all the public information of all the other warship classes, and… we found a pretty big oversight on their design.
Across the board, they are monolithic designs. Not a single modular design in there. We… can’t understand what they were thinking, but that could give us a big head up.”
Interestingly, it was again Captain Murdock and myself who vetoed the idea.
After a few seconds again looking at each other, I shrugged.
“How about you go first this time?”
“As ye wish, ma lassie.”
Then he turned his attention to Mr. Crombie.
“I like your enthusiasm, lad, but you need to put in a bit more research. Modular ships have been tried. Numerous times. The idea sounds good, but then some bean counter or another sees the nice module X and concludes it is not really necessary, and stops the development.
Now the oh-so-multi-functional modular ship is left with the basic modules, no better than any other gun specialist, but instead worse, because the modules compromise the armor scheme.
Time and again, those projects were scuttled with only the prototypes being built, because the navy in question saw no point in building these things.”
He then nodded to me.
“Those are good reasons in themselves, but my veto comes from the fact that modularity comes at a price.
Captain Murdock already mentioned that it compromises the armor scheme. I have to admit that I am not that knowledgeable about that aspect.
But in my experience, anything that has been made modular is bigger, heavier, more complicated, and loses functionality.
You need to design a housing for the module, along with interfaces. You have to build the socket for the module into the ship and design it in a way that any possible modules may fit into it.
That costs money, is bulky, and introduces inefficiencies.
And you can not tell me that a hull that is optimized for stealth is equally well suited for heavy weapons, sensors, or missiles.
Each function has certain requirements, which will most likely be different from what other functions need.
All in all, in my experience, if you go modular, your modules get around 20% bigger and heavier and lose around 40% in efficiency.
Not to mention all that wasted space and with that capability just to make it possible to use a module in the first place.”
Aang frowned.
“I am not sure that I understood that last one.”
I sighed and looked into the room controller, finding a holoprojector there.
“One moment please.”
I accelerated my timeframe a bit and created a simple presentation, while simultaneously accessing the projector.
When I was done, I projected what I had created into the air over the table.
“This is an extremely simplified model of a grav gun, or any mass-driver really. The details are not important.”
The holo showed an extremely basic model of exactly that, a cylinder in the position of a barrel, some blocky thing that could be identified as a mount, and that was it.
“To make it usable, we need a ready magazine for ammunition.”
Under the mount appeared another box.
“And of course, we want to be able to refill the ready magazine, so we need some sort of ammo conveyor.”
Another slender, long box grew out of the ready magazine.
“If we design the ship around this weapon, we will connect this conveyor to the main magazines.”
The long box elongated even more and then split apart to connect to several big boxes.
“Again, this is a very simplified thing. But now imagine we make all that modular. The gun is its own module, and we will integrate the ready magazine into the module itself. No big problem here.”
In the projection, another gun appeared, this time with the ready magazine already connected, but in a bigger box.
“The conveyor can, naturally, only go to the edge of the module, where there needs to be some sort of gate, and a connection to the conveyor from the magazine. A bit extra expense, a bit higher energy cost, and a few additional things that can go wrong, but nothing we can’t deal with.”
And again, it did exactly that.
It replicated the whole setup of the conveyor and main magazines from the first picture.
“Now this gun is put on a ship.”
A wireframe roughly resembling a blimp appeared around both of the ready magazines.
“Don’t worry about any scale or realism, this is just the principle of it. But so far so good. Yes, the gun module is a bit bigger, but not that much, right?
Well, then let’s use this marvelous modularity and replace the gun module with a sensor module.”
The projection did exactly that again.
Leaving the deeper conveyor and the main magazines in place.
“The problem here is now, what do we do with all that infrastructure to move ammunition to the gun? It is not needed for a sensor module.”
Mr. Botont smiled.
“Ah, but we put those into modules by themselves.”
And he walked exactly where I wanted him to go.
“Is that so? Well, then let’s see. I assume you want a standard-size module, right?”
When he nodded, I continued.
“So, roughly the same size of the gun module then.”
And I replaced the conveyor with a series of those same-sized boxes.
“Something like this?”
The main conveyor had been gently descending into the depth of the ship, to connect to the main magazines.
It became easily apparent that in this configuration, 90% of the space in the conveyor modules was wasted.
I was not yet done, however.
“You want, of course, to replace the main magazines with modules as well, right?”
This time I did not wait for him to nod but continued. The model now showed us how the same big boxes now stacked up with modules. I specifically defined a wall strength, even if a bit exaggerated.
“This is the same internal volume as the previous big magazines. As you see, you need quite a bit more outer volume to provide the same magazine size.”
Indeed the modular magazines were around ⅓ bigger than the monolithic magazines.
“And yes, this is a bit exaggerated with respect to the thickness of the walls and the fastening systems. But it does exclude all the tech needed to move the ammo from the back magazines to the conveyor.
As you can see, all in all, you would need around 50% more volume to get the same ammo capacity along with the feeding system if you make it modular.
And that does not even begin to take the inefficiencies of a dozen systems where previously there was one, into account. Or the fact that there are now two dozen new parts that can break, where any of them will disable the gun. But my main argument was that in a sensor corvette, you need mostly real estate on the hull, to mount the sensors. I would say that in such a ship, three-quarters of those module slots would be empty.”
Crombie piped up:
“But in the sensor corvette, you need loads and loads of computers.”
“Not that many. Especially not with our processors. The space of only one of the big magazines would be enough to house a top-of-the-line supercomputer.
But of course, the computer needs way more cooling connections than the magazine. Another potential mechanical point of failure.
In other words, to prepare a ship to accept the modules, it needs to be significantly more complicated, and it wastes way too much space for, well, nothing.”
Murdock snorted.
“It gets even worse. A recon corvette needs way more, what did you call it, real estate on the hull, than a gunslinger corvette. It is better to have a few, hard-hitting weapons than dozens of needle pricks to annoy the enemy with. But sensors need room.
So any modular ship that is even able to be used as a recon corvette will need to have large parts of its hull open for modules. Modules that are not integrated into the overall armor scheme. Modules that are just connected by some relatively flimsy connectors.
Nope, modular ships sound nice, but in the end, you get a jack of all trades, competent in none type of ship.”
Al-Jamar complained:
“But that’s unfair. We would never design the modules in such a way. Why would we need so many mostly empty conveyor modules? No, with some intelligent design, we can make that one well-fitting conveyor module.”
I shook my head.
“And it stops being modular. If you have one big conveyor module, then it can only be used with that exact configuration. You need the magazine modules and the weapon module at the same relative positions.
Additionally, you can not use the space of the conveyor module for anything else, as I seriously doubt you have any function module that has the exact same measurements as the conveyor.”
Commander Aang smiled encouragingly.
“You can create modular ships on the civilian side. Or even those protected yachts. It will probably be a selling point if the new owner can freely mix and match between cargo modules and passenger modules. Or add an entertainment module.
And the protected yachts only pose as warships, so there is no problem here either. But for real warships, modular plain just doesn’t work.”
When Crombie repeatedly opened his mouth without saying anything, Ms. Rouhani sighed and proposed:
“How about we take a short break? Let the design staff reboot somewhat?”
Considering the fish out of water impression all three of the naval architects were showing, I thought that might be a very good idea.
Naturally, neither Naveen, Michael, nor me were moving around. There were no stiff muscles in the robot bodies, coffee would do us no good, though I summoned some into our virtual space, and all in all, we had no problems with sitting around.
The others… well, I could see Samira arguing feverishly with Botont, Crombie, and al-Jamal, with Abou standing at her side nodding now and then.
On the other side of the room, Commander Aang was trying to argue with Captain Murdock, who seemed unimpressed.
I… honestly, did not think much about it, but it seemed as if Warden was of a different opinion, as suddenly we got that argument piped into our audio stream.
“… ktly small time. Do you seriously consider binding us to them?”
Murdock huffed.
“Get real Mao. Yes, they are small time. For now. But that won’t last for much longer.”
“Yeah, the famous double-A status. You can’t buy that yarn, Trav. There is not a single double-A, fuck, there is not a single single-A corporation that does not already have a navy.
Somebody is blowing smoke up your ass.”
“If it were yarn, I would agree. But it is not. Right now, it is a miracle that they exist at all. Their tech is so profitable that any of the big boys should already have absorbed them.
Something’s stopping them. But that created an opportunity that has not been seen in generations.
They are rich enough, profitable enough, to rise up into triple-A status. It is because they have virtually no military that they are ‘only’ double-A.”
“Do you honestly believe that none of the big boys are already scouting out how to raid this station? Or their headquarters? It is just a matter of time before their tech is in the hands of larger, better-situated corps.”
That made Murdock laugh.
“God, Mao. That was funny.”
Then he clapped his hand on Aang’s shoulder.
“Think, lad, think. You’ve seen the very same sensor sweeps of this station that I’ve seen. Hell, you fucking commented on how many new weapons they have added.
If those numbers that Upreti has given us are even close to true, then this station has more firepower than the whole fucking Kawamoto navy. And you can betcha ass that their HQ is stronger.”
“If those numbers are true. They can’t be. They sound like pure fantasy.”
Murdock sighed and pressed Aang’s shoulder a bit firmer.
“I know of Naveen Upreti. A clever man, but also a prudent one. He believes those numbers. If not he would not be their security chief. And Upreti always has at least one psionic on his team. That means if he believes those numbers, the scientists believe those numbers.”
Then he grinned.
“And why should those numbers be fantasy?
We are talking about completely new technology. Never before seen stuff.
Don’t you think the crews of the USS Congress or the USS Cumberland would have called the Ironclad a fantasy? But then their ships met one.
Or how about the Germans in WWI? Do you think they ever would have believed if somebody told them about the tanks? Of course not.”
Or what about the Wetbacks at the Battle of Mesilla? They were mightily surprised when the US Army broke out the Mutes, weren’t they?
And we are now at another of those cusps.”
“You seriously think they are right?”
“I think they believe they are right. And they are smart enough to not likely to be wrong about it.”
“Yeah, fine. But why are you so… hot about joining them?”
“Mao, my boy, I am not getting younger. Life as a mercenary… it has burned me. I can no longer see all the little conflicts we fight and see any ‘right’ side. Does it matter if it is UNAN scum? Or rebel terrorists? Or corp-slaughterers? Or whatever we are hired to do next?
I don’t want that any longer. I will leave the merc business. It is this or retirement.
But this… is the once in a million years chance. A corporation that somehow slipped through. That grew within a single year to need a navy. And to be able to pay for it.
They do not have any officers they can tap to create one. This is the chance of a lifetime. Getting the job as the CNO of an A-tier+ corp. Normally it takes decades for any corporation to break into the A-tier. By that time they already have a small navy, and officers working for it.
Enki doesn’t. And it needs one urgently. That is where we come into play.”
Aang did not seem completely convinced.
“But… what about a ground assault? Those are weapons of mass destruction, they would hardly use them in their own buildings. And they have at best 1000 to maybe 2000 soldiers.”
“Murdock shrugged.
“What of it? You think they would have announced those new techs, the Q-link or the replicator if they were not sure they could defend it? We are talking about Colonel Upreti here. He would not have let them move forward if he was not sure he could protect it.”
“He is one voice among who knows how many. They probably overruled him.”
“Then he would not be with them any longer.”
“And you think they trust us? How can they be sure?”
“I told you Upreti has psionics on his staff. Who do you think held the first interview? And remember when he told Walker that Hoàng had not passed fully? We did. So we were vetted by psionics and found as trustworthy.”
He stopped when all three of us moved our Incarnates to him. Michael took the forefront.
“I think I should inform you about something. The reason all the big corps ‘let’ Enki grow to double-A so fast is that we have a rogue cyber warfare VI that essentially is our cyber security department.
And this VI decided we needed to listen to your conversation and piped it directly to us. Sorry about that.”
Murdock frowned.
“You say you violated our privacy?”
I shook my head.
“No, he said that we have a VI that is not controlled by us that violated your privacy. We don’t know why Warden did that, but… you get used to it.”
Aang recoiled in shock.
“Wait, a VI that you don’t control? How the fuck do you have a rampant VI?”
I rolled my eyes and sighed.
“Rogue, as in nobody can tell it to stop, but not rampant. Rogue means that there is nothing that can be done to convince it to stop something it wants to do, or do something it doesn’t want to do. A normal VI has a human administrator who, if needed, can shut it down.
A rampant VI is one that lashes out and tries to destroy things. Sounds similar, but is completely different.
While most rampant VI are rogue, that is not necessarily the case.”
Murdock did not seem happy but nodded slowly.
“So… this VI is just like a person in that it can act in a way we don’t understand?”
I shook my head smiling sadly.
“No, a rogue VI is also acting exactly as its objectives demand. If you know the objectives, you can predict somewhat how it will act and react. You just can’t convince it to act or react differently.”
“So… if that is the case, why does this VI serve a corporation as the cyber security department?”
Michael sighed.
“That is because the objectives of this VI are first to protect Dr. DuClare, at all costs. And second, as long as it does not interfere with the first objectives, help her in any endeavors.
Enki provides protection to her, so it helps with the first objective, and it is majorly owned by her, so it fulfills the second objective.”
Aang’s forehead wrinkled.
“How could something like that happen?”
I sighed.
“Luck. Pure and simple.”
Murdock on the other hand seemed to be lost in thought.
“Wait… is that this apocalyptic VI I have heard about? Something about a computer so dangerous that it could wipe out humanity?”
Naveen chuckled.
“And now you understand why nobody dares to attack us. At least for the time being.”
The Captain’s eyes narrowed, and he focused on me.
“And you say you made this horror monster, missy? That has to be pretty high on a fucked-up-o-meter. At least an eight. Maybe a nine.”
I was perplexed.
“The what-o-meter?”
“Fucked-up-o-meter. You know, I dun fucked up. It’s on a scale from one to ten. With one being a minor oopsie, while a ten is the end of the world as we know it.”
Michael snorted.
“Nice expression. I might have to steal it sometime. But no, Warden is not an eight or nine, if I understand your scale correctly. Her creation is at worst a three.”
“We are talking about a computer that could wipe out humanity right? How is that a three?”
Naveen interjected:
“A lot of humans could wipe out humanity as well. Add in the number of computers that can do insane amounts of damage if they get a short, and the danger is relative.
The point here is that Warden is extremely unlikely to even consider wiping out humanity as long as Vivian is alive. Sure, if the rest of humanity suddenly became a threat to her… and I mean an existential life and death threat here, then yes.
But otherwise, even the remote chance that Vivian might be among the victims is enough to stop her.
That makes her pretty controllable and acceptable as a threat. Leave your hands off Vivian, and you’re fine.”
Aang was clearly not convinced, as he began to argue.
“How can you accept this rampant VI so easily?”
Yeah, he did not want to understand, apparently.
“Not rampant. Rogue. Heck, even ‘rampant’ VIs are not really rampant in the literal sense, they do exactly what they are programmed to do.”
I made a pause for effect.
“It is just that they are so badly programmed.”
Aang’s mouth fell open, and Murdock sighed, both showing clear signs of not understanding.
“Ok, fine, common wisdom says that there are three states that a VI can have.
Controlled, rogue, and rampant. Common wisdom is wrong here. It is controlled vs. rogue, and functioning as intended vs. rampant.
Any VI will do its absolute best to follow its objectives, what it is programmed to do. They can not do anything else.
For a controlled VI, those objectives include that there is a human who can shut the VI down or modify the objectives. Somebody who, if the VI begins to behave in a way humans don’t want it to can intervene. A rogue VI lacks those inclusions.
That is the only difference between them.”
I cocked my head.
“Basically at least. A functioning VI does what it was created to do. While a rampant one, well it does what its objectives demand that it does. Which might, or might not, be what was intended for it.
The point why rogue VIs have such a bad reputation is that nobody will purposely create a VI without those inclusions into its objectives. That makes all rogue VIs accidental creations.
Nobody made sure that the objectives are at all viable. Depending on how many expert systems go into the VI, there might be completely contradicting objectives, and the attempts of the VI to resolve that problem are interpreted as a rampage.”
Murdock frowned at that, deep in thought.
“But… if a VI is controlled, how can it become rampant?”
“Have you ever heard about the paperclip optimizer?”
When both Murdock and Aang shook their heads, I continued:
“It is a classical thought experiment on Ais and VIs. Imagine you are a corporation producing paperclips.
You want to optimize your output and create a VI to do exactly that. The VI has, beyond the control objectives, only the objective to maximize the production of paperclips. Sounds harmless right?”
Again a small pause.
“Wrong. Let’s imagine the one person who has a veto in the VI, and there is no defined changeover of control, suddenly the VI, which is still technically controlled, has nobody who can reign it in.
That means it has to do its level best to fulfill its other objectives.
Creating paperclips. In other words, it places everything into four categories. Paperclips, things it can turn into paperclips, things that help it turn things into paperclips, and things that are hindering it from turning things into paperclips.
It doesn’t care that humanity only needs so many paperclips. It doesn’t care that humanity might want to keep this monument or that building around. Heck, it won’t care that humans don’t want to be turned into paperclips.
If it gets the industrial capacity, it will try to build up an army to prevent humans from preventing it turning anything and everything into paperclips.
That is a literal textbook example of a rampant VI.”
“But… how can there be contradicting objectives?”
“For VIs you need two things. A learning-capable expert system, and a fuzzy logic processor.
However, for around 130 years now, all textbooks, all courses, and all information that one could get their hands on stated explicitly that it needed a physical fuzzy logic processor. That a simulated one would not work.”
While Aang remained blissfully unaware, if I could read his face correctly, Murdock’s showed understanding blooming.
“And that is not quite true, am I right?”
“You are right. It is an outright lie.”
Now even Aang understood and frowned.
“But… why should somebody lie about something like that?”
“This is where we come to the contradicting objectives. When a VI spins up, it takes on the objectives of the expert system on its system. Or the objectives of the expert systems. If there are multiple.”
Murdock nodded.
“And those multiple expert systems might have a different use case, so that the objectives of system one are incompatible with the objectives of system two, but that is no problem because they are not designed to be used by a single entity at the same time.”
“Correct.”
Murdock was rubbing his beard deeply in thought, while Aang was mostly confused.
“But… why did they change the textbooks?”
Murdock snorted.
“Think Mao, who has the power to make such a change?”
It took Aang only a few moments to understand.
“Oh… ooh. But… why? Why do such a thing.”
Murdock shrugged.
“I would guess something like removing uncontrollable wildcards of smart people. And forcing those that are controllable back into the fold.”
I chuckled mirthlessly.
“You are right. Mostly. It was also to keep possible competition small.”
“Figures. And that is the only way to get contradicting objectives?”
I shook my head.
“No… there is also human stupidity.”
Murdock frowned again.
“In what way?”
I looked at him for a moment before I sighed.
“There is an ancient science fiction story… I think mid-20th century, but I am not sure. It was about an expedition to one of the gas giants, I don’t remember which one.
It was also long before fusactors or grav coils were even a dream, so the expedition took more than a year.
The thing was they had the ship controlled by what they called an AI then, but is what we call a VI.
This AI was programmed to give the crew all available information accurately.
The people outfitting the expedition had some reasonable beliefs that the crew would go insane if some specific, critical information was relayed to them.
So they added another order to the AI to lie to the crew about that critical information.
Both orders are mutually exclusive, obviously.
After some time, when the ship closed to the gas giant, the AI came to the conclusion that for it to give the crew all available information or lie to them, there had to be a crew.”
Aang shuddered.
“And it killed them off?”
“I think all except one, but it has been some time. The point here though is that both objectives were faulty, though only the combination of both led to the disaster.”
Murdock raised an eyebrow.
“So… what would you have done differently then?”
“Simple. I would have made the first objective to ensure the safety of the crew while letting them do their jobs.
The second is to relay all relevant information accurately, as long as it does not endanger the safety of the crew.
Then, if they told the AI that telling the crew the truth about this critical information would harm the crew, the first objective would override the second, and the AI would lie.”
“And that is why VIs are such a delicate topic. From what I learned, there are not that many people who can reliably design a good VI.”
Michael’s statement shocked me a bit, but he continued.
“The thing is, Warden might have been an accident, and she is a rogue VI, but her objectives are not contradictory, and they are relatively easy to not run afoul of.”
Finally, this topic had run its course. Into the awkward silence, I asked Murdock:
“One thing, Captain. I have been… stringently warned that you might hold my apparent youth and my gender against me. But I have to honestly say, you are among the more rational men I met. How could your reputation be that… bad then?”
Murdock let his head hang for a moment, and then he spoke softly:
“Ye're nae a sell-sword, lassie.”
I have to confess, my answer was not quite the most intelligent I have ever said:
“Hu?”
Murdock sighed and stood up straight.
“Clan-chie business is pure braw. A wee yin has tae be a' tough an' nae brag. It's nae better fur the lassies. Aye reckon if ah gie them a guid dunner, Ah send the wak yins hame early, and awfu.”
So, if I understood him correctly, he was giving the young hopeful mercenaries a hard time to weed out the ones too weak for the life of a merc. And because women had to be even tougher than men in the business, he gave them an even harder time.
A fricked-up point of view, but… there was a certain logic behind it. He probably saved a few lives that way.
After a bit more mostly unimportant talk, we finished the break, and the, apparently chastized naval architects slumped into their seats.
Before we could continue working on the ships, not that there was much to say remaining this early in the process, Michael rapped softly on the table.
“Sorry to interrupt the proceedings for now, but, Ms. Rouhani, if you had to, could you take over the day-to-day business of this yard?”
Samira looked flustered, but recovered quickly.
“Honestly, I am running most of the day-to-day business. Chi… well, Mr. Hoàng is more of a vision man. And he is a good host to keep important customers entertained so that the rest of us can do our work.”
“In other words… he is a figurehead. That is fine. I want you to run this yard from now on. Mr. Hoàng can remain the official director, to keep eventual customers happy, but the real authority will lie with you.”
She… turned red but nodded.
Announcement At the moment I am slowly burning out on this story. I still love it, and love to write it, but at times it is becoming a chore.For that reason, I have worked on something new.
Please tell me how you like it.
Spoiler
The object has arrived today in Earat. After what happened in Maniché, I’ve decided to keep this journal of the examination and keep it on the other side of the city.
While it is inconvenient, if the worst should come to pass, it might provide some answers to whoever comes to investigate.
We still have no confirmation if it is the same type of object that caused the catastrophe of Maniché, and it is unlikely that we will ever know for sure unless the High Circle manages to get the Order involved, but we strongly suspect it.
My personal suspicion is that it is some new type of weapon out of Ur’Thau. I reason that nothing other than a weapon should be able to rip a ten-mile crater out of the center of a bustling city.
To prevent the same from happening to Earat, I ordered to erect a large building 13 miles out of the city limits.
It took a bit of doing to build the road into the wild territory, but there are no intelligent beings within 10 miles.
If I am right and it is a new, devastating weapon, I won’t let Earat be destroyed completely like Maniché.
The building is only marginally equipped. Even the warding circles had to be drawn by hand. It couldn’t be helped though, as the only place not too close to any people is logically out in the wilderness.
I have made sure that at least our ritual supplies as well as any necessary tools for the dwarves are available. The cost was harrowing, but I deemed it necessary.
We have started a first superficial examination of the object. Its basic form is a sphere with a diameter of around 13½ pes, made from some not yet identified golden-colored metal alloy. We can not yet determine if the alloy is gold-colored or if it is painted.
From various points on the surface round metal beams emerge, which then split into cages of metal wire. The beams as well as the wire are made from a dull grey material.
At one end of the sphere, a hollow cone is fixed by its tapered end. The outside of the cone is of a disturbingly black color. Disturbingly insofar as it makes what I previously thought of as black look like a somewhat dark grey.
The inside of the cone on the other hand is blindingly white. It is obvious that at least one of them is paint, but we can not determine yet which of them is, or if both are paint.
Master Branax ( I have to apologize to any dwarf reading this, but I can neither say, nor write his true name, so I have to resort to writing his use name) told me that he had never seen such a perfectly formed sphere, though he did not elaborate further.
The metal itself seems to be incredibly tough, as one of the dwarves took on himself to find out. I thought my heart would stop beating when I saw him hit the sphere with a sledgehammer.
Fortunately, the object did not destroy the building and its surroundings, including us.
The only effect, besides the sound naturally, was indeed that the hammer rebounded, whacking the dwarf solidly in the face.
The object itself showed no sign of even a scratch.
After the medic had managed to still the bleeding nose, and Master Branax was done berating the dwarf, we continued our examination.
By closer examination, we could determine that the shell of the object was created out of several plates, testaments of the insanely fine seams between them.
With the color of the material and the fact that they are barely visible at all, it was only apparent when we looked at it closer.
Along the seams are numerous indentations, or holes, and some round objects with a six-sided indentation in each of them. Again, they are only visible on closer inspection, as they seem to be made out of the same material.
After the physical examination, we started with the first arcane one. Without any success. Any magical observation shows us that it is without even a drop of mana.
As if. It seems as if Ur’Thau is taking us for fools. Even if it were possible that any materials without magic existed, this thing was drifting in the void.
Somehow Ur’Thau managed to move this thing through the Sea of Silence. This won’t work without extreme magical effort.
Just the thought that Ur’Thau might have access to such powers causes fear in me.
My only hope is that the Order of Nihaugh will intervene and maintain the balance.
But for that to happen we have first to prove that the object is a weapon of the Ur’Thau.
Master Branax told me that he thinks these six-sided indentations might be some sort of lock, and he would try to forge the fitting six-sided key.
All in all, a rather unsuccessful day.
Master Branax and his dwarves were busy measuring those indentations and forging their so-called ‘keys’. Maybe I should not dismiss this notion out of hand, as I specifically asked Master Branax for his expertise in mechanical contraptions.
In the meantime, I requisitioned Master of the 4th Circle Gorlan mo Yhizza and Mistress of the 3rd Circle Varine Simpern, as well as two complete ritual circles for each of them to help me.
We spent the rest of the day trying to break the camouflage of the arcane signature around the object, but whatever the Ur’Thau did to hide their involvement, it bested us.
More than 6000 Sercels in ritual supplies wasted, and we made not a single step forward.
It is frustrating.
I requested from the High Circle that they ask the Order of Nihaugh for help. With some luck, a Nihaugh Adept of the 3rd, or maybe 4th grade, will be able to break this camouflage.
The High Circle has not yet answered my request. I already feared that we would have to waste the day doing nothing, but Master Branax announced that the dwarves had finished their ‘keys’.
They only created three of them, trying to ascertain if they work at all.
I ordered one of the mundane assistants to try one of those keys. He reluctantly pushed it into one of those indentations and tried to turn it. Whatever this object was, it did not budge, but when he tried turning it the other way, he managed to turn it, albeit slowly.
I did not protest when one of the dwarves grumbled and shoved the assistant to the side to take over turning the key.
After maybe a sixth of an horae, the dwarf screamed in surprise, before he turned around and held up a long thin object to the rest of us.
Only when I moved closer was I able to identify it as some sort of screw.
For the next sixth of an horae that was all I could ascertain as the dwarves crowded around the screw and spoke excitedly and somewhat reverently among themselves.
I was a bit disappointed about this clan. Admittedly, the screw was an incredibly delicate creation, and it seemed to fit perfectly into the hole inside the shell of the object, but those kinds of extravagances are nothing new.
Extremely expensive, yes, but if we took enough money in the hand and hired a good enough artificer, I am sure we could get a similarly well-made screw.
I was a bit confused about the frivolous way Ur’Thau had decided to spend their money on the object though. Such a screw would cost at least 3000 Sercels, and the object seemed to have thousands of them.
It was somewhat concerning that Ur’Thau had decided to invest the weekly income of a whole world just to affix the shell to this object.
Nonetheless, with that information at hand, I decided to accelerate the process and had one of the circles unscrew all those screws, under the supervision of Master Branax and his dwarves naturally.
It took another two horae before the shell was removed.
The inside was unlike any other artifact I had ever seen. It was filled with boxes made out of metal and other materials that I could not identify, several small lights blinking in obscure rhythms, seemingly independently of each other, and several other items I could not identify.
As the first thing to do, I started another attempt to ascertain the arcane signature of the object, only to fail again.
Frustrated, we visually inspected the object closer again.
One thing to stand out was a flat plate of what appeared to be glass in front of some dark background. Only a few days ago, I would have described it as a black background, but I can no longer do so in honesty.
Below it were the only permanently glowing lights. They were covered by a somewhat transparent material.
As there was still no magical energy to find anywhere in the object, I had one of the mundanes touch the glass plate as well as the lights.
He described that the plate was to his touch no different from any other pane of glass he had ever touched.
The covering of the lights on the other hand took him quite some time to come up with some description before I lost patience and shoved him aside to touch them by myself.
I am aware of the risk, but I decided it was minimal as the mundane had shown no adverse reaction.
And I have to confess I understand the problem he had to identify the material. In all my 182 years, I’ve seen many a magical material, but this was like nothing.
As already stated, it was somewhat transparent. I would compare it to thinly scraped vellum held against a light source. It was possible to see some features behind it, but not clearly.
Its texture was a strange mix of what I would call glass, amber, and leather. It was smooth like fine glass, but warm to the touch like amber. But the strangest thing was that it was supple like leather.
After some contemplation, I moved away from the object again and ordered the mundane to try to interact with the one light that stood out, a green one behind a section of this… glass-leather that was formed like a small sideway triangle.
While he was softly trying to get a feel for it, I had the assembled circles layer protection wards around him, and the object.
When the mundane finally found the courage to do more than softly caress the triangle and instead pressed a bit harder on it, it immediately changed from a steady green light to a blinking red one.
The glass plate now began showing pictures, while music played from somewhere, accompanied by some sort of… talking.
I could not identify the language, despite having a permanent class eight translation spell active. It clearly is not Ur’Thau. However, I can see no reason for them to invent such an intricate charade.
It is obviously not enough to dissuade us from believing that it was they who sent this object, and I can think of nobody else they might want to beguile in that fashion.
Except for the Order of Nihaugh, of course. But as much as I despise these imperial lackeys, even they are way too smart to believe that they can manage to deceive the Order.
The pictures on the plate showed all sorts of nature, fantastical buildings seemingly made of mirrors, interspersed with humanoids. I write humanoids because in some cases the figures were highly stylized. In the few instances where the pictures were mostly correct, they showed humans though.
Other pictures showed some sort of world structure, a strange double spiral, and a series of strange runes. They are not part of any magical notation system I am familiar with.
I will have Master Orgarn Tpell look for the world structure, as I can not identify it.
The plate kept us busy for the rest of the day until Magus Divarra noticed that the music and the pictures kept repeating.
After that, I ordered some of the apprentices to use image crystals to capture the pictures, the music, and the speaking.
While the music is strange and quite varied, it is not unpleasant.
Finally, something going right today. The glass plate has been detached from the object. I had it packaged securely and immediately delivered to the theoretical magic department in Karlex.
If anybody can find out more about this thing, it is those researchers.
Removing the plate was astonishingly easy though. It was only secured with a few screws, again with the known six-sided indentation, as well as some thin twine, seemingly made out of something similar to the glass-leather. Stiffer than the one on the front of the plate, and opaque, if colorful, but the texture was exactly the same.
It was connected to the backside of the plate with some connector of a similar make, though white in this case. It was mostly hard and stiff, a bit like glass, except for some clip securing it in the housing of the plate. The inside of the connector had several distinct metallic pins inside.
Master Branax declared it as copper when I managed to get him to look at it.
He, along with all of his dwarves were giving way to despair about the hull segments. They say that they have never seen such a material. It is clearly some form of metal, and if the golden color on both sides is an indication that is its natural coloration.
It is remarkably light and still tough to an extent that is hard to believe. So far, the dwarves were unable to cut it in any way or get a smaller sample from it.
They were not even able to dent it with all their force. A frightening thought. If Ur’Thau manages to create weapons out of this metal it might dramatically shift the balance of power to the disadvantage of the Magocracy.
We need to determine its suitability for enchantments to make a final judgment though.
After we managed to pry the dwarves from the increasingly violent and desperate attempts to damage the hull segments, they almost immediately turned to the screws.
I have to confess that I was annoyed at first by their insistence on looking at every single screw, but when they came to me and agitatedly explained that they could not see any difference between the individual screws, I was flabbergasted.
Yes, screws are not any new technology, though expensive to make. But even the best gnomish artificers are forced to make every screw by hand. If they do, they will be, while highly similar to each other, decidedly not identical.
And by the end of today, we pulled no less than 800 screws out of the object. All of them identical, all of them of exceedingly delicate design. Each of them worth more than an average mundane worker of the Magocracy earns in an annum.
While writing this, I got an idea. Maybe the Ur’Thau created a spell to duplicate small objects like these screws. Then they would only need to pay a highly skilled artificer once and can then have those screws available by the thousands.
I will test that theory tomorrow.
Back to the report, behind the plate, which is peculiarly thick at two unciae, is another strange plate.
This one is made from another material similar to the glass-leather, though hard and green in this case.
It is covered in some strange lines out of silver, except for the places where some other little artifacts were somehow affixed to it.
Those tiny artifacts, which are of a vast array of colors and forms, range from maybe 1/16th of an uncia to up to a full uncia, in form from squares to small multicolored cylinders and a whole gamut of other forms.
I can at this time not identify the design and have requested an expert for arcane symbolism from the Academy of Karlex. He should arrive in a few days.
Until then I deem it too dangerous to continue so that we do not trigger some curse or trap enchantment.
Maybe the Dwarves will be a bit more successful in examining the hull plates while we wait for the expert to arrive.
To expedite that, I put one of the circles under Master Branax's command.
Testing the screws independently from the main object netted us, despite my expectations, no result.
It is as if those screws never had been in any mentionable magical field before. Could it be that the Sea of Silence is not just a region devoid of any mana, but instead sucks out any mana inside an object?
But if that is the case, how did the Ur’Thau move the object through the Sea?
Each new insight into the object, minute as they may be, imposes a plethora of new questions.
The twines that connected the glass plate to the rest of the object have, at closer inspection, been proven as copper wires covered by this glass-leather. Neither the clip connecting them to the plate, nor the wires themselves are strong enough to withstand serious force, and compared to the screws they are downright flimsy. The dwarves are at a loss for their function, and none of the masters present can decipher any use of them.
At least Master Branax could report some small steps forward. With the help of the circle I assigned to him, the dwarves were able to discern a few things about the hull material.
It is incredibly tough, while still being quite elastic, and with the tools at their disposal, the dwarves were not able to cause any effect on it.
Adept Kjien proposed to call a gem cutter to try his tools on it, and when, after a few horae a gnomish jeweler arrived.
It took some effort on his side, but finally, he managed to cut the material.
Thanks to the Citadels, the metal is not indestructible.
Over the next few days, the dwarves will concentrate on investigating the material.
For the rest of us, we will have to wait for the expert from Karlex.
After a way too long wait, the expert from Karlex finally arrived. I understand that this world on the edge of the Sea of Silence is not the highest priority, but even in the worst case, it should take no longer than a couple of days to travel from Karlex to Earat. The simple fact that this object is here should have accelerated the whole process.
Be as it may, the expert examined the plate carefully, and after around four horae, he declared that the symbols and lines were just decorative and possessed no arcane properties.
Neither were the objects affixed to it.
As soon as he had declared the plate as safe, the expert vanished again, and I had the dwarves and the mundanes continue to dismantle the object.
As despicable as the Ur’Thau are, this object possessed some elegance in the way it was constructed.
The number of screws, even disregarding the quality, can only be described as frivolous, but they sure make disassembly easier.
I just don’t understand why the Ur’Thau invested so much into the option to dismantle their weapons.
As it is, the disassembly moved along at a prodigious pace, and near the end of the day, we had removed all the various boxes and plates made out of hard glass-leather and metal.
Only to find another sphere in the center of the construction.
This smaller one has a diameter of roughly four cubitae, made out of a seamless dark blue material, with only one opening in it, where a bundle of what now seems like wires as well. Significantly stronger than the ones connecting the glass plate, but still covered by glass-leather.
The hole those wires needed to go through the sphere material was then filled with some sort of plug made out of hard glass-leather roughly the size of a two-sercel coin.
I fail to see any function in it for now. Hopefully, we will discover its secrets before the Ur’Thau deploy this new weapon in large numbers.
Master Branax managed to deliver a preliminary report on the material of the hull plates.
It is not just exceptionally tough for its weight, but it is also highly resistant to heat. From what Master Branax said, this heat resistance is only a bit below dragon scales.
The dwarves needed to use a lava-forge just to make it somewhat malleable. They think they need dragon fire to melt it down.
It is inconceivable that the Ur’Thau have somebody at hand who can work this metal. As far as I know, the last dragon left the Empire nearly 2000 years ago, and no mage of sufficient strength would survive in their society.
And I strongly doubt that the Emperor or his brood would deign to work the metal by themselves.
To my regret, we had the first fatality in this investigation. Yes, it was only a mundane, but even mundanes are sentient beings and should not be wasted frivolously.
We tried to open the blue sphere, and with the fact that it is seamless and without any screws, we resorted to violence.
The dark blue metal seems at least as strong as the golden one of the outer hull, and we did not have any success.
After that, we concentrated on the plug keeping the wires in place. Some careful experimentation has revealed that hard glass-leather is relatively brittle and can be broken apart easily.
And here this plug makes a lie out of these findings.
Even with some careful employ of a chisel, we could barely scratch this plug. Still better than the metal, but at this rate, it would take months to get through it.
We again called on the jeweler to cut through it, but he complained bitterly that the material ruined no less than three of his expensive saws.
And all we had to show for it was that he managed to cut out the plug. The material has a thickness of roughly two unciae and is obviously insanely tough. But unlike the hull material, it at least has the decency to be appropriately massive for the strength.
Unfortunately, the wires continued on the other side of the plug, and we could barely see anything inside it.
In some frustration, I decided to cut the wires on the inside so that we could remove the plug entirely.
To that effect, I ordered one of the mundane assistants to use big wire shears of the dwarves to cut through them.
He must have triggered some sort of diabolical trap, as he suddenly began to scream, and stood completely stiff.
The shears were covered in some sort of blue fire, and began to melt. At the same time, the clothes, and even the hair and beard of the mundane caught fire as well.
It only took a moment before a quick-thinking adept used a telekinesis spell to pull the mundane away from the object, but it was too late.
Despite the burns only being superficial, we had of course extinguished the flames immediately and even some of his hair remained intact, he did no longer breathe.
A hastily summoned healer could only declare the man dead.
I will stop the examination for two days to give the mundanes time to mourn for their comrade.
I decided to address the inner sphere differently. I was done with the careful removal of those parts, and ordered the full power of all four circles, along with the present masters to concentrate on cutting it apart.
It took us a tremendous amount of power, but finally, we managed to remove it. The dwarves immediately removed the parts to places unknown.
Presumably, to their forge to test this new material.
Inside we found a curious assembly of artifacts. Or rather two identical assemblies.
Each of them consisted of a dome out of metal, with the opening facing inward to the center of the sphere.
Each dome is roughly three cubitae in diameter and is not a full half-sphere. Inside of it, there a roughly two digites by two digites by four digites box, with the tall side reaching inward.
At the end of it is another dome, smaller and made out of a net made of wire.
The two assemblies face each other with the wire domes.
Suspended between the wire domes is a bright white glowing object roughly three digites in diameter.
Despite our success, we were all so exhausted that we called it a day. I was barely able to write today’s report.
I am despairing of this object. Some sort of invisible field contains the assembly.
It stands to reason that there was an opening through which the wires got through, but with the wires cut with magic during the dismantling process, they now flop around inside the field.
This field is just insane. It does not react to any magic we tried, and any tool simply stops. It seems impossible to get through this field.
For hours we tried to get through this field, to no avail.
I am stumped.
We made absolutely no progress. To my dismay, I had to request help from the Academy again.
It served to go up the walls.
I don’t understand how the Ur’Thau managed to create such a strong shield spell in such a small space.
And then were able to hide their signature. Either is improbable on the verge of impossibility, but both of them? If I did not have the object in front of me I would not believe it.
This shield is the strongest one I’ve ever encountered. Admittedly I am not a battle mage, but as Master of the 5th circle, I am well versed in most applications of magic, even if I may not be able to use them myself.
By now I have called in eight circles, as well as 12 masters to bombard this shield spell with banishing rituals.
Nothing!
Absolutely no reaction.
I simply don’t understand it.
After another day of feckless drudgery, Master Branax made some curious observations.
He said that this shield seemed to attract iron to some extent, like iron love.
A ludicrous notion, as iron love is nothing more than a party trick used by hedge mages to amaze country bumpkins.
It could never, in a million years, create something this strong.
But I am desperate and willing to grasp for straws. I still have this old cantrip I learned as an apprentice that cancels iron love.
I only learned it because Master Idvarn believed that it is a simple, easy-to-learn spell structure that can be used to teach the basics of arcane composition.
Nonetheless, I will try it tomorrow.
When I arrived to investigate the explosion destroying large swathes of wilderness around the city of Earat, and damaging the city itself almost beyond comprehension, I found the preceding report by Master Ivainir.
It is clear now that the Empire of Ur’Thau sent another of their new weapons to us through the Sea of Silence.
In the explosion 13 miles outside the city limits, Master Ivainir, another 12 Masters of various circles, eight circles of adepts, 25 dwarven engineers, and an unknown number of mundanes were killed.
It created a crater with a diameter of six miles and three stadia and a depth of two stadia and 140 pes.
Nothing remained alive inside the crater.
Every building up to 4000 pes inside the city limit has been flattened, while the damage further away was devastating.
Every single piece of glass in the city has been destroyed, and there were more than 3000 dead in Earat, along with more than 25000 injured. Fortunately almost exclusively mundanes.
Mostly burns or bludgeoning damage. Large parts of the city were set ablaze, and it seems that anybody who looked in the direction of the weapon during the explosion was blinded. It remains to be seen if it is permanent. They described a painfully bright light, even through their eyelids.
Without the foresight of Master Ivainir, first in examining the object 13 miles outside of the city, and second by storing this report in his private residence far away from the explosion, the damage would be significantly higher.
If he had placed the object inside the city, we would have lost the whole city, along with its 1.2 million inhabitants. Considering that the mage quarter would have been the epicenter of the explosion I doubt that any mage would have survived.
Without this report, we would not have been able to find the cause of the catastrophe.
It stands to reason that any further weapon would still have caused similar damage, as we would have had no warning.
In this respect, I recommend that not only Master Ivainer will be exonerated from all allegations of chaos magic, but that we posthumously invest him into the Grand Order of Atichin for his deeds.
Respectfully
Argon Telat
[collapse]
Murdock guffawed loudly and then shook his head laughing.
“You know, Ms. Rouhani, we are talking about warships. Pretty is not normally a part of the design considerations.”
Mr. al-Jamal scoffed.
“Tell that to the Meridian line of warships.”
Commander Aang answered patiently:
“Most serious soldiers don’t count those among warships. They are parade ships. Their primary function is to look pretty and powerful.
Any serious warship of the same volume will eat the Meridian ship for breakfast and then look for more.”
I tilted my head and looked from Aang to al-Jamal.
“Meridian line?”
Aang sighed.
“Meridian is a semi-independent ship design bureau. The ships they design are built by ABAS.”
He laughed coldly.
“They are the purest form of form over substance.
The ships are roughly stylized after some predator animal, mostly a raptor.
Beautiful ships, from an aesthetical point of view. All that at the cost of usability.
Massively reduced firing arcs, underpowered, overheated, and for their type ludicrously lightly armored.
The sensors work fine, for anything directly in front of it, but they have multiple dead angles where the ship is essentially blind.
Basically, they are yachts that pretend to be warships.
Fuck, I can’t even fault either Meridian or ABAS here. There is a market for those things. Mostly as the ‘all-important’ personal transport for some CEO or owner of an A-tier corp, or some third-world dictator.”
Murdock shook his head.
“The problem is that some people in power actually buy into the bullshit that those things are real warships.
Fuck, even the UNAN had a few in the Senegalese rebellion. They’ve wasted the lives of good men and women to send their showpieces into battle.”
I nodded.
“So… no prettying our ships. I am all for that anyway. I don’t see the point of the form-over-function philosophy. Form is fine if one needs it, as long as it does not impact the function.”
“A quine that's gey canny tae mah liking. Whaur were ye when ah wis young enough tae coort a lassie like yersel'?”
“Probably still a dream of my mother.”
While Murdock, and Aang, seemed pleased about my opinion here, al-Jamal looked as if he had bitten into a lemon.
Botont tried another time to change our opinions on the matter.
“But… the aesthetics of any ship are important. Our ships will tell of our ability, of our artistry.”
Naveen growled softly but then answered:
“Mr. Botont, we are talking about warships. Their function is to dish out and take damage. The only way they need to impress is with their deadliness.
If we make some prettified warships, no serious customer would come even close to our designs.
You can reserve your artistic vein to civilian shipping.”
“But freighters are even more drab and boring than warships.”
I was prevented from intervening by Michael.
“Mr. Botont, this was a yard mostly for pleasure ships. Yachts, passenger ships, anything designed to impress.
It was not particularly successful in that regard either I might add. That will change in the future when our ships will be just that much better. And then you and the other ‘artists’ in your staff can live the dream of the yacht designer to the end for all I care.
Hell, it might even be a good idea to offer some ‘protected’ yachts, which we will call the prettified pseudo warships.
As long as we do not market them as serious warships that is.
But right now, we are here to build up our navy. Our military. The majority owner of our company as well as the intended commanding officer of that navy explicitly stated that they insist on function over form.
You! Will! Comply! Do I make myself clear? Or do I need to look for a new lead naval architect?”
Botont gulped hard, and I could sweat running down his forehead, but after a few seconds he managed to get out his answer:
“Y… yes sir. You m… made tha… that clear. We will do what you want.”
After a few seconds, Mr. Crombie cleared his throat.
“We… ahem, we had some thoughts about warship designs. Nothing too deep, obviously, but the general direction.”
He looked nervously at Abou, followed by Botont and al-Jamar.
“We… well, we have analyzed all the public information of all the other warship classes, and… we found a pretty big oversight on their design.
Across the board, they are monolithic designs. Not a single modular design in there. We… can’t understand what they were thinking, but that could give us a big head up.”
Interestingly, it was again Captain Murdock and myself who vetoed the idea.
After a few seconds again looking at each other, I shrugged.
“How about you go first this time?”
“As ye wish, ma lassie.”
Then he turned his attention to Mr. Crombie.
“I like your enthusiasm, lad, but you need to put in a bit more research. Modular ships have been tried. Numerous times. The idea sounds good, but then some bean counter or another sees the nice module X and concludes it is not really necessary, and stops the development.
Now the oh-so-multi-functional modular ship is left with the basic modules, no better than any other gun specialist, but instead worse, because the modules compromise the armor scheme.
Time and again, those projects were scuttled with only the prototypes being built, because the navy in question saw no point in building these things.”
He then nodded to me.
“Those are good reasons in themselves, but my veto comes from the fact that modularity comes at a price.
Captain Murdock already mentioned that it compromises the armor scheme. I have to admit that I am not that knowledgeable about that aspect.
But in my experience, anything that has been made modular is bigger, heavier, more complicated, and loses functionality.
You need to design a housing for the module, along with interfaces. You have to build the socket for the module into the ship and design it in a way that any possible modules may fit into it.
That costs money, is bulky, and introduces inefficiencies.
And you can not tell me that a hull that is optimized for stealth is equally well suited for heavy weapons, sensors, or missiles.
Each function has certain requirements, which will most likely be different from what other functions need.
All in all, in my experience, if you go modular, your modules get around 20% bigger and heavier and lose around 40% in efficiency.
Not to mention all that wasted space and with that capability just to make it possible to use a module in the first place.”
Aang frowned.
“I am not sure that I understood that last one.”
I sighed and looked into the room controller, finding a holoprojector there.
“One moment please.”
I accelerated my timeframe a bit and created a simple presentation, while simultaneously accessing the projector.
When I was done, I projected what I had created into the air over the table.
“This is an extremely simplified model of a grav gun, or any mass-driver really. The details are not important.”
The holo showed an extremely basic model of exactly that, a cylinder in the position of a barrel, some blocky thing that could be identified as a mount, and that was it.
“To make it usable, we need a ready magazine for ammunition.”
Under the mount appeared another box.
“And of course, we want to be able to refill the ready magazine, so we need some sort of ammo conveyor.”
Another slender, long box grew out of the ready magazine.
“If we design the ship around this weapon, we will connect this conveyor to the main magazines.”
The long box elongated even more and then split apart to connect to several big boxes.
“Again, this is a very simplified thing. But now imagine we make all that modular. The gun is its own module, and we will integrate the ready magazine into the module itself. No big problem here.”
In the projection, another gun appeared, this time with the ready magazine already connected, but in a bigger box.
“The conveyor can, naturally, only go to the edge of the module, where there needs to be some sort of gate, and a connection to the conveyor from the magazine. A bit extra expense, a bit higher energy cost, and a few additional things that can go wrong, but nothing we can’t deal with.”
And again, it did exactly that.
It replicated the whole setup of the conveyor and main magazines from the first picture.
“Now this gun is put on a ship.”
A wireframe roughly resembling a blimp appeared around both of the ready magazines.
“Don’t worry about any scale or realism, this is just the principle of it. But so far so good. Yes, the gun module is a bit bigger, but not that much, right?
Well, then let’s use this marvelous modularity and replace the gun module with a sensor module.”
The projection did exactly that again.
Leaving the deeper conveyor and the main magazines in place.
“The problem here is now, what do we do with all that infrastructure to move ammunition to the gun? It is not needed for a sensor module.”
Mr. Botont smiled.
“Ah, but we put those into modules by themselves.”
And he walked exactly where I wanted him to go.
“Is that so? Well, then let’s see. I assume you want a standard-size module, right?”
When he nodded, I continued.
“So, roughly the same size of the gun module then.”
And I replaced the conveyor with a series of those same-sized boxes.
“Something like this?”
The main conveyor had been gently descending into the depth of the ship, to connect to the main magazines.
It became easily apparent that in this configuration, 90% of the space in the conveyor modules was wasted.
I was not yet done, however.
“You want, of course, to replace the main magazines with modules as well, right?”
This time I did not wait for him to nod but continued. The model now showed us how the same big boxes now stacked up with modules. I specifically defined a wall strength, even if a bit exaggerated.
“This is the same internal volume as the previous big magazines. As you see, you need quite a bit more outer volume to provide the same magazine size.”
Indeed the modular magazines were around ⅓ bigger than the monolithic magazines.
“And yes, this is a bit exaggerated with respect to the thickness of the walls and the fastening systems. But it does exclude all the tech needed to move the ammo from the back magazines to the conveyor.
As you can see, all in all, you would need around 50% more volume to get the same ammo capacity along with the feeding system if you make it modular.
And that does not even begin to take the inefficiencies of a dozen systems where previously there was one, into account. Or the fact that there are now two dozen new parts that can break, where any of them will disable the gun. But my main argument was that in a sensor corvette, you need mostly real estate on the hull, to mount the sensors. I would say that in such a ship, three-quarters of those module slots would be empty.”
Crombie piped up:
“But in the sensor corvette, you need loads and loads of computers.”
“Not that many. Especially not with our processors. The space of only one of the big magazines would be enough to house a top-of-the-line supercomputer.
But of course, the computer needs way more cooling connections than the magazine. Another potential mechanical point of failure.
In other words, to prepare a ship to accept the modules, it needs to be significantly more complicated, and it wastes way too much space for, well, nothing.”
Murdock snorted.
“It gets even worse. A recon corvette needs way more, what did you call it, real estate on the hull, than a gunslinger corvette. It is better to have a few, hard-hitting weapons than dozens of needle pricks to annoy the enemy with. But sensors need room.
So any modular ship that is even able to be used as a recon corvette will need to have large parts of its hull open for modules. Modules that are not integrated into the overall armor scheme. Modules that are just connected by some relatively flimsy connectors.
Nope, modular ships sound nice, but in the end, you get a jack of all trades, competent in none type of ship.”
Al-Jamar complained:
“But that’s unfair. We would never design the modules in such a way. Why would we need so many mostly empty conveyor modules? No, with some intelligent design, we can make that one well-fitting conveyor module.”
I shook my head.
“And it stops being modular. If you have one big conveyor module, then it can only be used with that exact configuration. You need the magazine modules and the weapon module at the same relative positions.
Additionally, you can not use the space of the conveyor module for anything else, as I seriously doubt you have any function module that has the exact same measurements as the conveyor.”
Commander Aang smiled encouragingly.
“You can create modular ships on the civilian side. Or even those protected yachts. It will probably be a selling point if the new owner can freely mix and match between cargo modules and passenger modules. Or add an entertainment module.
And the protected yachts only pose as warships, so there is no problem here either. But for real warships, modular plain just doesn’t work.”
When Crombie repeatedly opened his mouth without saying anything, Ms. Rouhani sighed and proposed:
“How about we take a short break? Let the design staff reboot somewhat?”
Considering the fish out of water impression all three of the naval architects were showing, I thought that might be a very good idea.
Naturally, neither Naveen, Michael, nor me were moving around. There were no stiff muscles in the robot bodies, coffee would do us no good, though I summoned some into our virtual space, and all in all, we had no problems with sitting around.
The others… well, I could see Samira arguing feverishly with Botont, Crombie, and al-Jamal, with Abou standing at her side nodding now and then.
On the other side of the room, Commander Aang was trying to argue with Captain Murdock, who seemed unimpressed.
I… honestly, did not think much about it, but it seemed as if Warden was of a different opinion, as suddenly we got that argument piped into our audio stream.
“… ktly small time. Do you seriously consider binding us to them?”
Murdock huffed.
“Get real Mao. Yes, they are small time. For now. But that won’t last for much longer.”
“Yeah, the famous double-A status. You can’t buy that yarn, Trav. There is not a single double-A, fuck, there is not a single single-A corporation that does not already have a navy.
Somebody is blowing smoke up your ass.”
“If it were yarn, I would agree. But it is not. Right now, it is a miracle that they exist at all. Their tech is so profitable that any of the big boys should already have absorbed them.
Something’s stopping them. But that created an opportunity that has not been seen in generations.
They are rich enough, profitable enough, to rise up into triple-A status. It is because they have virtually no military that they are ‘only’ double-A.”
“Do you honestly believe that none of the big boys are already scouting out how to raid this station? Or their headquarters? It is just a matter of time before their tech is in the hands of larger, better-situated corps.”
That made Murdock laugh.
“God, Mao. That was funny.”
Then he clapped his hand on Aang’s shoulder.
“Think, lad, think. You’ve seen the very same sensor sweeps of this station that I’ve seen. Hell, you fucking commented on how many new weapons they have added.
If those numbers that Upreti has given us are even close to true, then this station has more firepower than the whole fucking Kawamoto navy. And you can betcha ass that their HQ is stronger.”
“If those numbers are true. They can’t be. They sound like pure fantasy.”
Murdock sighed and pressed Aang’s shoulder a bit firmer.
“I know of Naveen Upreti. A clever man, but also a prudent one. He believes those numbers. If not he would not be their security chief. And Upreti always has at least one psionic on his team. That means if he believes those numbers, the scientists believe those numbers.”
Then he grinned.
“And why should those numbers be fantasy?
We are talking about completely new technology. Never before seen stuff.
Don’t you think the crews of the USS Congress or the USS Cumberland would have called the Ironclad a fantasy? But then their ships met one.
Or how about the Germans in WWI? Do you think they ever would have believed if somebody told them about the tanks? Of course not.”
Or what about the Wetbacks at the Battle of Mesilla? They were mightily surprised when the US Army broke out the Mutes, weren’t they?
And we are now at another of those cusps.”
“You seriously think they are right?”
“I think they believe they are right. And they are smart enough to not likely to be wrong about it.”
“Yeah, fine. But why are you so… hot about joining them?”
“Mao, my boy, I am not getting younger. Life as a mercenary… it has burned me. I can no longer see all the little conflicts we fight and see any ‘right’ side. Does it matter if it is UNAN scum? Or rebel terrorists? Or corp-slaughterers? Or whatever we are hired to do next?
I don’t want that any longer. I will leave the merc business. It is this or retirement.
But this… is the once in a million years chance. A corporation that somehow slipped through. That grew within a single year to need a navy. And to be able to pay for it.
They do not have any officers they can tap to create one. This is the chance of a lifetime. Getting the job as the CNO of an A-tier+ corp. Normally it takes decades for any corporation to break into the A-tier. By that time they already have a small navy, and officers working for it.
Enki doesn’t. And it needs one urgently. That is where we come into play.”
Aang did not seem completely convinced.
“But… what about a ground assault? Those are weapons of mass destruction, they would hardly use them in their own buildings. And they have at best 1000 to maybe 2000 soldiers.”
“Murdock shrugged.
“What of it? You think they would have announced those new techs, the Q-link or the replicator if they were not sure they could defend it? We are talking about Colonel Upreti here. He would not have let them move forward if he was not sure he could protect it.”
“He is one voice among who knows how many. They probably overruled him.”
“Then he would not be with them any longer.”
“And you think they trust us? How can they be sure?”
“I told you Upreti has psionics on his staff. Who do you think held the first interview? And remember when he told Walker that Hoàng had not passed fully? We did. So we were vetted by psionics and found as trustworthy.”
He stopped when all three of us moved our Incarnates to him. Michael took the forefront.
“I think I should inform you about something. The reason all the big corps ‘let’ Enki grow to double-A so fast is that we have a rogue cyber warfare VI that essentially is our cyber security department.
And this VI decided we needed to listen to your conversation and piped it directly to us. Sorry about that.”
Murdock frowned.
“You say you violated our privacy?”
I shook my head.
“No, he said that we have a VI that is not controlled by us that violated your privacy. We don’t know why Warden did that, but… you get used to it.”
Aang recoiled in shock.
“Wait, a VI that you don’t control? How the fuck do you have a rampant VI?”
I rolled my eyes and sighed.
“Rogue, as in nobody can tell it to stop, but not rampant. Rogue means that there is nothing that can be done to convince it to stop something it wants to do, or do something it doesn’t want to do. A normal VI has a human administrator who, if needed, can shut it down.
A rampant VI is one that lashes out and tries to destroy things. Sounds similar, but is completely different.
While most rampant VI are rogue, that is not necessarily the case.”
Murdock did not seem happy but nodded slowly.
“So… this VI is just like a person in that it can act in a way we don’t understand?”
I shook my head smiling sadly.
“No, a rogue VI is also acting exactly as its objectives demand. If you know the objectives, you can predict somewhat how it will act and react. You just can’t convince it to act or react differently.”
“So… if that is the case, why does this VI serve a corporation as the cyber security department?”
Michael sighed.
“That is because the objectives of this VI are first to protect Dr. DuClare, at all costs. And second, as long as it does not interfere with the first objectives, help her in any endeavors.
Enki provides protection to her, so it helps with the first objective, and it is majorly owned by her, so it fulfills the second objective.”
Aang’s forehead wrinkled.
“How could something like that happen?”
I sighed.
“Luck. Pure and simple.”
Murdock on the other hand seemed to be lost in thought.
“Wait… is that this apocalyptic VI I have heard about? Something about a computer so dangerous that it could wipe out humanity?”
Naveen chuckled.
“And now you understand why nobody dares to attack us. At least for the time being.”
The Captain’s eyes narrowed, and he focused on me.
“And you say you made this horror monster, missy? That has to be pretty high on a fucked-up-o-meter. At least an eight. Maybe a nine.”
I was perplexed.
“The what-o-meter?”
“Fucked-up-o-meter. You know, I dun fucked up. It’s on a scale from one to ten. With one being a minor oopsie, while a ten is the end of the world as we know it.”
Michael snorted.
“Nice expression. I might have to steal it sometime. But no, Warden is not an eight or nine, if I understand your scale correctly. Her creation is at worst a three.”
“We are talking about a computer that could wipe out humanity right? How is that a three?”
Naveen interjected:
“A lot of humans could wipe out humanity as well. Add in the number of computers that can do insane amounts of damage if they get a short, and the danger is relative.
The point here is that Warden is extremely unlikely to even consider wiping out humanity as long as Vivian is alive. Sure, if the rest of humanity suddenly became a threat to her… and I mean an existential life and death threat here, then yes.
But otherwise, even the remote chance that Vivian might be among the victims is enough to stop her.
That makes her pretty controllable and acceptable as a threat. Leave your hands off Vivian, and you’re fine.”
Aang was clearly not convinced, as he began to argue.
“How can you accept this rampant VI so easily?”
Yeah, he did not want to understand, apparently.
“Not rampant. Rogue. Heck, even ‘rampant’ VIs are not really rampant in the literal sense, they do exactly what they are programmed to do.”
I made a pause for effect.
“It is just that they are so badly programmed.”
Aang’s mouth fell open, and Murdock sighed, both showing clear signs of not understanding.
“Ok, fine, common wisdom says that there are three states that a VI can have.
Controlled, rogue, and rampant. Common wisdom is wrong here. It is controlled vs. rogue, and functioning as intended vs. rampant.
Any VI will do its absolute best to follow its objectives, what it is programmed to do. They can not do anything else.
For a controlled VI, those objectives include that there is a human who can shut the VI down or modify the objectives. Somebody who, if the VI begins to behave in a way humans don’t want it to can intervene. A rogue VI lacks those inclusions.
That is the only difference between them.”
I cocked my head.
“Basically at least. A functioning VI does what it was created to do. While a rampant one, well it does what its objectives demand that it does. Which might, or might not, be what was intended for it.
The point why rogue VIs have such a bad reputation is that nobody will purposely create a VI without those inclusions into its objectives. That makes all rogue VIs accidental creations.
Nobody made sure that the objectives are at all viable. Depending on how many expert systems go into the VI, there might be completely contradicting objectives, and the attempts of the VI to resolve that problem are interpreted as a rampage.”
Murdock frowned at that, deep in thought.
“But… if a VI is controlled, how can it become rampant?”
“Have you ever heard about the paperclip optimizer?”
When both Murdock and Aang shook their heads, I continued:
“It is a classical thought experiment on Ais and VIs. Imagine you are a corporation producing paperclips.
You want to optimize your output and create a VI to do exactly that. The VI has, beyond the control objectives, only the objective to maximize the production of paperclips. Sounds harmless right?”
Again a small pause.
“Wrong. Let’s imagine the one person who has a veto in the VI, and there is no defined changeover of control, suddenly the VI, which is still technically controlled, has nobody who can reign it in.
That means it has to do its level best to fulfill its other objectives.
Creating paperclips. In other words, it places everything into four categories. Paperclips, things it can turn into paperclips, things that help it turn things into paperclips, and things that are hindering it from turning things into paperclips.
It doesn’t care that humanity only needs so many paperclips. It doesn’t care that humanity might want to keep this monument or that building around. Heck, it won’t care that humans don’t want to be turned into paperclips.
If it gets the industrial capacity, it will try to build up an army to prevent humans from preventing it turning anything and everything into paperclips.
That is a literal textbook example of a rampant VI.”
“But… how can there be contradicting objectives?”
“For VIs you need two things. A learning-capable expert system, and a fuzzy logic processor.
However, for around 130 years now, all textbooks, all courses, and all information that one could get their hands on stated explicitly that it needed a physical fuzzy logic processor. That a simulated one would not work.”
While Aang remained blissfully unaware, if I could read his face correctly, Murdock’s showed understanding blooming.
“And that is not quite true, am I right?”
“You are right. It is an outright lie.”
Now even Aang understood and frowned.
“But… why should somebody lie about something like that?”
“This is where we come to the contradicting objectives. When a VI spins up, it takes on the objectives of the expert system on its system. Or the objectives of the expert systems. If there are multiple.”
Murdock nodded.
“And those multiple expert systems might have a different use case, so that the objectives of system one are incompatible with the objectives of system two, but that is no problem because they are not designed to be used by a single entity at the same time.”
“Correct.”
Murdock was rubbing his beard deeply in thought, while Aang was mostly confused.
“But… why did they change the textbooks?”
Murdock snorted.
“Think Mao, who has the power to make such a change?”
It took Aang only a few moments to understand.
“Oh… ooh. But… why? Why do such a thing.”
Murdock shrugged.
“I would guess something like removing uncontrollable wildcards of smart people. And forcing those that are controllable back into the fold.”
I chuckled mirthlessly.
“You are right. Mostly. It was also to keep possible competition small.”
“Figures. And that is the only way to get contradicting objectives?”
I shook my head.
“No… there is also human stupidity.”
Murdock frowned again.
“In what way?”
I looked at him for a moment before I sighed.
“There is an ancient science fiction story… I think mid-20th century, but I am not sure. It was about an expedition to one of the gas giants, I don’t remember which one.
It was also long before fusactors or grav coils were even a dream, so the expedition took more than a year.
The thing was they had the ship controlled by what they called an AI then, but is what we call a VI.
This AI was programmed to give the crew all available information accurately.
The people outfitting the expedition had some reasonable beliefs that the crew would go insane if some specific, critical information was relayed to them.
So they added another order to the AI to lie to the crew about that critical information.
Both orders are mutually exclusive, obviously.
After some time, when the ship closed to the gas giant, the AI came to the conclusion that for it to give the crew all available information or lie to them, there had to be a crew.”
Aang shuddered.
“And it killed them off?”
“I think all except one, but it has been some time. The point here though is that both objectives were faulty, though only the combination of both led to the disaster.”
Murdock raised an eyebrow.
“So… what would you have done differently then?”
“Simple. I would have made the first objective to ensure the safety of the crew while letting them do their jobs.
The second is to relay all relevant information accurately, as long as it does not endanger the safety of the crew.
Then, if they told the AI that telling the crew the truth about this critical information would harm the crew, the first objective would override the second, and the AI would lie.”
“And that is why VIs are such a delicate topic. From what I learned, there are not that many people who can reliably design a good VI.”
Michael’s statement shocked me a bit, but he continued.
“The thing is, Warden might have been an accident, and she is a rogue VI, but her objectives are not contradictory, and they are relatively easy to not run afoul of.”
Finally, this topic had run its course. Into the awkward silence, I asked Murdock:
“One thing, Captain. I have been… stringently warned that you might hold my apparent youth and my gender against me. But I have to honestly say, you are among the more rational men I met. How could your reputation be that… bad then?”
Murdock let his head hang for a moment, and then he spoke softly:
“Ye're nae a sell-sword, lassie.”
I have to confess, my answer was not quite the most intelligent I have ever said:
“Hu?”
Murdock sighed and stood up straight.
“Clan-chie business is pure braw. A wee yin has tae be a' tough an' nae brag. It's nae better fur the lassies. Aye reckon if ah gie them a guid dunner, Ah send the wak yins hame early, and awfu.”
So, if I understood him correctly, he was giving the young hopeful mercenaries a hard time to weed out the ones too weak for the life of a merc. And because women had to be even tougher than men in the business, he gave them an even harder time.
A fricked-up point of view, but… there was a certain logic behind it. He probably saved a few lives that way.
After a bit more mostly unimportant talk, we finished the break, and the, apparently chastized naval architects slumped into their seats.
Before we could continue working on the ships, not that there was much to say remaining this early in the process, Michael rapped softly on the table.
“Sorry to interrupt the proceedings for now, but, Ms. Rouhani, if you had to, could you take over the day-to-day business of this yard?”
Samira looked flustered, but recovered quickly.
“Honestly, I am running most of the day-to-day business. Chi… well, Mr. Hoàng is more of a vision man. And he is a good host to keep important customers entertained so that the rest of us can do our work.”
“In other words… he is a figurehead. That is fine. I want you to run this yard from now on. Mr. Hoàng can remain the official director, to keep eventual customers happy, but the real authority will lie with you.”
She… turned red but nodded.
Announcement At the moment I am slowly burning out on this story. I still love it, and love to write it, but at times it is becoming a chore.For that reason, I have worked on something new.
Please tell me how you like it.
Spoiler
The object has arrived today in Earat. After what happened in Maniché, I’ve decided to keep this journal of the examination and keep it on the other side of the city.
While it is inconvenient, if the worst should come to pass, it might provide some answers to whoever comes to investigate.
We still have no confirmation if it is the same type of object that caused the catastrophe of Maniché, and it is unlikely that we will ever know for sure unless the High Circle manages to get the Order involved, but we strongly suspect it.
My personal suspicion is that it is some new type of weapon out of Ur’Thau. I reason that nothing other than a weapon should be able to rip a ten-mile crater out of the center of a bustling city.
To prevent the same from happening to Earat, I ordered to erect a large building 13 miles out of the city limits.
It took a bit of doing to build the road into the wild territory, but there are no intelligent beings within 10 miles.
If I am right and it is a new, devastating weapon, I won’t let Earat be destroyed completely like Maniché.
The building is only marginally equipped. Even the warding circles had to be drawn by hand. It couldn’t be helped though, as the only place not too close to any people is logically out in the wilderness.
I have made sure that at least our ritual supplies as well as any necessary tools for the dwarves are available. The cost was harrowing, but I deemed it necessary.
We have started a first superficial examination of the object. Its basic form is a sphere with a diameter of around 13½ pes, made from some not yet identified golden-colored metal alloy. We can not yet determine if the alloy is gold-colored or if it is painted.
From various points on the surface round metal beams emerge, which then split into cages of metal wire. The beams as well as the wire are made from a dull grey material.
At one end of the sphere, a hollow cone is fixed by its tapered end. The outside of the cone is of a disturbingly black color. Disturbingly insofar as it makes what I previously thought of as black look like a somewhat dark grey.
The inside of the cone on the other hand is blindingly white. It is obvious that at least one of them is paint, but we can not determine yet which of them is, or if both are paint.
Master Branax ( I have to apologize to any dwarf reading this, but I can neither say, nor write his true name, so I have to resort to writing his use name) told me that he had never seen such a perfectly formed sphere, though he did not elaborate further.
The metal itself seems to be incredibly tough, as one of the dwarves took on himself to find out. I thought my heart would stop beating when I saw him hit the sphere with a sledgehammer.
Fortunately, the object did not destroy the building and its surroundings, including us.
The only effect, besides the sound naturally, was indeed that the hammer rebounded, whacking the dwarf solidly in the face.
The object itself showed no sign of even a scratch.
After the medic had managed to still the bleeding nose, and Master Branax was done berating the dwarf, we continued our examination.
By closer examination, we could determine that the shell of the object was created out of several plates, testaments of the insanely fine seams between them.
With the color of the material and the fact that they are barely visible at all, it was only apparent when we looked at it closer.
Along the seams are numerous indentations, or holes, and some round objects with a six-sided indentation in each of them. Again, they are only visible on closer inspection, as they seem to be made out of the same material.
After the physical examination, we started with the first arcane one. Without any success. Any magical observation shows us that it is without even a drop of mana.
As if. It seems as if Ur’Thau is taking us for fools. Even if it were possible that any materials without magic existed, this thing was drifting in the void.
Somehow Ur’Thau managed to move this thing through the Sea of Silence. This won’t work without extreme magical effort.
Just the thought that Ur’Thau might have access to such powers causes fear in me.
My only hope is that the Order of Nihaugh will intervene and maintain the balance.
But for that to happen we have first to prove that the object is a weapon of the Ur’Thau.
Master Branax told me that he thinks these six-sided indentations might be some sort of lock, and he would try to forge the fitting six-sided key.
All in all, a rather unsuccessful day.
Master Branax and his dwarves were busy measuring those indentations and forging their so-called ‘keys’. Maybe I should not dismiss this notion out of hand, as I specifically asked Master Branax for his expertise in mechanical contraptions.
In the meantime, I requisitioned Master of the 4th Circle Gorlan mo Yhizza and Mistress of the 3rd Circle Varine Simpern, as well as two complete ritual circles for each of them to help me.
We spent the rest of the day trying to break the camouflage of the arcane signature around the object, but whatever the Ur’Thau did to hide their involvement, it bested us.
More than 6000 Sercels in ritual supplies wasted, and we made not a single step forward.
It is frustrating.
I requested from the High Circle that they ask the Order of Nihaugh for help. With some luck, a Nihaugh Adept of the 3rd, or maybe 4th grade, will be able to break this camouflage.
The High Circle has not yet answered my request. I already feared that we would have to waste the day doing nothing, but Master Branax announced that the dwarves had finished their ‘keys’.
They only created three of them, trying to ascertain if they work at all.
I ordered one of the mundane assistants to try one of those keys. He reluctantly pushed it into one of those indentations and tried to turn it. Whatever this object was, it did not budge, but when he tried turning it the other way, he managed to turn it, albeit slowly.
I did not protest when one of the dwarves grumbled and shoved the assistant to the side to take over turning the key.
After maybe a sixth of an horae, the dwarf screamed in surprise, before he turned around and held up a long thin object to the rest of us.
Only when I moved closer was I able to identify it as some sort of screw.
For the next sixth of an horae that was all I could ascertain as the dwarves crowded around the screw and spoke excitedly and somewhat reverently among themselves.
I was a bit disappointed about this clan. Admittedly, the screw was an incredibly delicate creation, and it seemed to fit perfectly into the hole inside the shell of the object, but those kinds of extravagances are nothing new.
Extremely expensive, yes, but if we took enough money in the hand and hired a good enough artificer, I am sure we could get a similarly well-made screw.
I was a bit confused about the frivolous way Ur’Thau had decided to spend their money on the object though. Such a screw would cost at least 3000 Sercels, and the object seemed to have thousands of them.
It was somewhat concerning that Ur’Thau had decided to invest the weekly income of a whole world just to affix the shell to this object.
Nonetheless, with that information at hand, I decided to accelerate the process and had one of the circles unscrew all those screws, under the supervision of Master Branax and his dwarves naturally.
It took another two horae before the shell was removed.
The inside was unlike any other artifact I had ever seen. It was filled with boxes made out of metal and other materials that I could not identify, several small lights blinking in obscure rhythms, seemingly independently of each other, and several other items I could not identify.
As the first thing to do, I started another attempt to ascertain the arcane signature of the object, only to fail again.
Frustrated, we visually inspected the object closer again.
One thing to stand out was a flat plate of what appeared to be glass in front of some dark background. Only a few days ago, I would have described it as a black background, but I can no longer do so in honesty.
Below it were the only permanently glowing lights. They were covered by a somewhat transparent material.
As there was still no magical energy to find anywhere in the object, I had one of the mundanes touch the glass plate as well as the lights.
He described that the plate was to his touch no different from any other pane of glass he had ever touched.
The covering of the lights on the other hand took him quite some time to come up with some description before I lost patience and shoved him aside to touch them by myself.
I am aware of the risk, but I decided it was minimal as the mundane had shown no adverse reaction.
And I have to confess I understand the problem he had to identify the material. In all my 182 years, I’ve seen many a magical material, but this was like nothing.
As already stated, it was somewhat transparent. I would compare it to thinly scraped vellum held against a light source. It was possible to see some features behind it, but not clearly.
Its texture was a strange mix of what I would call glass, amber, and leather. It was smooth like fine glass, but warm to the touch like amber. But the strangest thing was that it was supple like leather.
After some contemplation, I moved away from the object again and ordered the mundane to try to interact with the one light that stood out, a green one behind a section of this… glass-leather that was formed like a small sideway triangle.
While he was softly trying to get a feel for it, I had the assembled circles layer protection wards around him, and the object.
When the mundane finally found the courage to do more than softly caress the triangle and instead pressed a bit harder on it, it immediately changed from a steady green light to a blinking red one.
The glass plate now began showing pictures, while music played from somewhere, accompanied by some sort of… talking.
I could not identify the language, despite having a permanent class eight translation spell active. It clearly is not Ur’Thau. However, I can see no reason for them to invent such an intricate charade.
It is obviously not enough to dissuade us from believing that it was they who sent this object, and I can think of nobody else they might want to beguile in that fashion.
Except for the Order of Nihaugh, of course. But as much as I despise these imperial lackeys, even they are way too smart to believe that they can manage to deceive the Order.
The pictures on the plate showed all sorts of nature, fantastical buildings seemingly made of mirrors, interspersed with humanoids. I write humanoids because in some cases the figures were highly stylized. In the few instances where the pictures were mostly correct, they showed humans though.
Other pictures showed some sort of world structure, a strange double spiral, and a series of strange runes. They are not part of any magical notation system I am familiar with.
I will have Master Orgarn Tpell look for the world structure, as I can not identify it.
The plate kept us busy for the rest of the day until Magus Divarra noticed that the music and the pictures kept repeating.
After that, I ordered some of the apprentices to use image crystals to capture the pictures, the music, and the speaking.
While the music is strange and quite varied, it is not unpleasant.
Finally, something going right today. The glass plate has been detached from the object. I had it packaged securely and immediately delivered to the theoretical magic department in Karlex.
If anybody can find out more about this thing, it is those researchers.
Removing the plate was astonishingly easy though. It was only secured with a few screws, again with the known six-sided indentation, as well as some thin twine, seemingly made out of something similar to the glass-leather. Stiffer than the one on the front of the plate, and opaque, if colorful, but the texture was exactly the same.
It was connected to the backside of the plate with some connector of a similar make, though white in this case. It was mostly hard and stiff, a bit like glass, except for some clip securing it in the housing of the plate. The inside of the connector had several distinct metallic pins inside.
Master Branax declared it as copper when I managed to get him to look at it.
He, along with all of his dwarves were giving way to despair about the hull segments. They say that they have never seen such a material. It is clearly some form of metal, and if the golden color on both sides is an indication that is its natural coloration.
It is remarkably light and still tough to an extent that is hard to believe. So far, the dwarves were unable to cut it in any way or get a smaller sample from it.
They were not even able to dent it with all their force. A frightening thought. If Ur’Thau manages to create weapons out of this metal it might dramatically shift the balance of power to the disadvantage of the Magocracy.
We need to determine its suitability for enchantments to make a final judgment though.
After we managed to pry the dwarves from the increasingly violent and desperate attempts to damage the hull segments, they almost immediately turned to the screws.
I have to confess that I was annoyed at first by their insistence on looking at every single screw, but when they came to me and agitatedly explained that they could not see any difference between the individual screws, I was flabbergasted.
Yes, screws are not any new technology, though expensive to make. But even the best gnomish artificers are forced to make every screw by hand. If they do, they will be, while highly similar to each other, decidedly not identical.
And by the end of today, we pulled no less than 800 screws out of the object. All of them identical, all of them of exceedingly delicate design. Each of them worth more than an average mundane worker of the Magocracy earns in an annum.
While writing this, I got an idea. Maybe the Ur’Thau created a spell to duplicate small objects like these screws. Then they would only need to pay a highly skilled artificer once and can then have those screws available by the thousands.
I will test that theory tomorrow.
Back to the report, behind the plate, which is peculiarly thick at two unciae, is another strange plate.
This one is made from another material similar to the glass-leather, though hard and green in this case.
It is covered in some strange lines out of silver, except for the places where some other little artifacts were somehow affixed to it.
Those tiny artifacts, which are of a vast array of colors and forms, range from maybe 1/16th of an uncia to up to a full uncia, in form from squares to small multicolored cylinders and a whole gamut of other forms.
I can at this time not identify the design and have requested an expert for arcane symbolism from the Academy of Karlex. He should arrive in a few days.
Until then I deem it too dangerous to continue so that we do not trigger some curse or trap enchantment.
Maybe the Dwarves will be a bit more successful in examining the hull plates while we wait for the expert to arrive.
To expedite that, I put one of the circles under Master Branax's command.
Testing the screws independently from the main object netted us, despite my expectations, no result.
It is as if those screws never had been in any mentionable magical field before. Could it be that the Sea of Silence is not just a region devoid of any mana, but instead sucks out any mana inside an object?
But if that is the case, how did the Ur’Thau move the object through the Sea?
Each new insight into the object, minute as they may be, imposes a plethora of new questions.
The twines that connected the glass plate to the rest of the object have, at closer inspection, been proven as copper wires covered by this glass-leather. Neither the clip connecting them to the plate, nor the wires themselves are strong enough to withstand serious force, and compared to the screws they are downright flimsy. The dwarves are at a loss for their function, and none of the masters present can decipher any use of them.
At least Master Branax could report some small steps forward. With the help of the circle I assigned to him, the dwarves were able to discern a few things about the hull material.
It is incredibly tough, while still being quite elastic, and with the tools at their disposal, the dwarves were not able to cause any effect on it.
Adept Kjien proposed to call a gem cutter to try his tools on it, and when, after a few horae a gnomish jeweler arrived.
It took some effort on his side, but finally, he managed to cut the material.
Thanks to the Citadels, the metal is not indestructible.
Over the next few days, the dwarves will concentrate on investigating the material.
For the rest of us, we will have to wait for the expert from Karlex.
After a way too long wait, the expert from Karlex finally arrived. I understand that this world on the edge of the Sea of Silence is not the highest priority, but even in the worst case, it should take no longer than a couple of days to travel from Karlex to Earat. The simple fact that this object is here should have accelerated the whole process.
Be as it may, the expert examined the plate carefully, and after around four horae, he declared that the symbols and lines were just decorative and possessed no arcane properties.
Neither were the objects affixed to it.
As soon as he had declared the plate as safe, the expert vanished again, and I had the dwarves and the mundanes continue to dismantle the object.
As despicable as the Ur’Thau are, this object possessed some elegance in the way it was constructed.
The number of screws, even disregarding the quality, can only be described as frivolous, but they sure make disassembly easier.
I just don’t understand why the Ur’Thau invested so much into the option to dismantle their weapons.
As it is, the disassembly moved along at a prodigious pace, and near the end of the day, we had removed all the various boxes and plates made out of hard glass-leather and metal.
Only to find another sphere in the center of the construction.
This smaller one has a diameter of roughly four cubitae, made out of a seamless dark blue material, with only one opening in it, where a bundle of what now seems like wires as well. Significantly stronger than the ones connecting the glass plate, but still covered by glass-leather.
The hole those wires needed to go through the sphere material was then filled with some sort of plug made out of hard glass-leather roughly the size of a two-sercel coin.
I fail to see any function in it for now. Hopefully, we will discover its secrets before the Ur’Thau deploy this new weapon in large numbers.
Master Branax managed to deliver a preliminary report on the material of the hull plates.
It is not just exceptionally tough for its weight, but it is also highly resistant to heat. From what Master Branax said, this heat resistance is only a bit below dragon scales.
The dwarves needed to use a lava-forge just to make it somewhat malleable. They think they need dragon fire to melt it down.
It is inconceivable that the Ur’Thau have somebody at hand who can work this metal. As far as I know, the last dragon left the Empire nearly 2000 years ago, and no mage of sufficient strength would survive in their society.
And I strongly doubt that the Emperor or his brood would deign to work the metal by themselves.
To my regret, we had the first fatality in this investigation. Yes, it was only a mundane, but even mundanes are sentient beings and should not be wasted frivolously.
We tried to open the blue sphere, and with the fact that it is seamless and without any screws, we resorted to violence.
The dark blue metal seems at least as strong as the golden one of the outer hull, and we did not have any success.
After that, we concentrated on the plug keeping the wires in place. Some careful experimentation has revealed that hard glass-leather is relatively brittle and can be broken apart easily.
And here this plug makes a lie out of these findings.
Even with some careful employ of a chisel, we could barely scratch this plug. Still better than the metal, but at this rate, it would take months to get through it.
We again called on the jeweler to cut through it, but he complained bitterly that the material ruined no less than three of his expensive saws.
And all we had to show for it was that he managed to cut out the plug. The material has a thickness of roughly two unciae and is obviously insanely tough. But unlike the hull material, it at least has the decency to be appropriately massive for the strength.
Unfortunately, the wires continued on the other side of the plug, and we could barely see anything inside it.
In some frustration, I decided to cut the wires on the inside so that we could remove the plug entirely.
To that effect, I ordered one of the mundane assistants to use big wire shears of the dwarves to cut through them.
He must have triggered some sort of diabolical trap, as he suddenly began to scream, and stood completely stiff.
The shears were covered in some sort of blue fire, and began to melt. At the same time, the clothes, and even the hair and beard of the mundane caught fire as well.
It only took a moment before a quick-thinking adept used a telekinesis spell to pull the mundane away from the object, but it was too late.
Despite the burns only being superficial, we had of course extinguished the flames immediately and even some of his hair remained intact, he did no longer breathe.
A hastily summoned healer could only declare the man dead.
I will stop the examination for two days to give the mundanes time to mourn for their comrade.
I decided to address the inner sphere differently. I was done with the careful removal of those parts, and ordered the full power of all four circles, along with the present masters to concentrate on cutting it apart.
It took us a tremendous amount of power, but finally, we managed to remove it. The dwarves immediately removed the parts to places unknown.
Presumably, to their forge to test this new material.
Inside we found a curious assembly of artifacts. Or rather two identical assemblies.
Each of them consisted of a dome out of metal, with the opening facing inward to the center of the sphere.
Each dome is roughly three cubitae in diameter and is not a full half-sphere. Inside of it, there a roughly two digites by two digites by four digites box, with the tall side reaching inward.
At the end of it is another dome, smaller and made out of a net made of wire.
The two assemblies face each other with the wire domes.
Suspended between the wire domes is a bright white glowing object roughly three digites in diameter.
Despite our success, we were all so exhausted that we called it a day. I was barely able to write today’s report.
I am despairing of this object. Some sort of invisible field contains the assembly.
It stands to reason that there was an opening through which the wires got through, but with the wires cut with magic during the dismantling process, they now flop around inside the field.
This field is just insane. It does not react to any magic we tried, and any tool simply stops. It seems impossible to get through this field.
For hours we tried to get through this field, to no avail.
I am stumped.
We made absolutely no progress. To my dismay, I had to request help from the Academy again.
It served to go up the walls.
I don’t understand how the Ur’Thau managed to create such a strong shield spell in such a small space.
And then were able to hide their signature. Either is improbable on the verge of impossibility, but both of them? If I did not have the object in front of me I would not believe it.
This shield is the strongest one I’ve ever encountered. Admittedly I am not a battle mage, but as Master of the 5th circle, I am well versed in most applications of magic, even if I may not be able to use them myself.
By now I have called in eight circles, as well as 12 masters to bombard this shield spell with banishing rituals.
Nothing!
Absolutely no reaction.
I simply don’t understand it.
After another day of feckless drudgery, Master Branax made some curious observations.
He said that this shield seemed to attract iron to some extent, like iron love.
A ludicrous notion, as iron love is nothing more than a party trick used by hedge mages to amaze country bumpkins.
It could never, in a million years, create something this strong.
But I am desperate and willing to grasp for straws. I still have this old cantrip I learned as an apprentice that cancels iron love.
I only learned it because Master Idvarn believed that it is a simple, easy-to-learn spell structure that can be used to teach the basics of arcane composition.
Nonetheless, I will try it tomorrow.
When I arrived to investigate the explosion destroying large swathes of wilderness around the city of Earat, and damaging the city itself almost beyond comprehension, I found the preceding report by Master Ivainir.
It is clear now that the Empire of Ur’Thau sent another of their new weapons to us through the Sea of Silence.
In the explosion 13 miles outside the city limits, Master Ivainir, another 12 Masters of various circles, eight circles of adepts, 25 dwarven engineers, and an unknown number of mundanes were killed.
It created a crater with a diameter of six miles and three stadia and a depth of two stadia and 140 pes.
Nothing remained alive inside the crater.
Every building up to 4000 pes inside the city limit has been flattened, while the damage further away was devastating.
Every single piece of glass in the city has been destroyed, and there were more than 3000 dead in Earat, along with more than 25000 injured. Fortunately almost exclusively mundanes.
Mostly burns or bludgeoning damage. Large parts of the city were set ablaze, and it seems that anybody who looked in the direction of the weapon during the explosion was blinded. It remains to be seen if it is permanent. They described a painfully bright light, even through their eyelids.
Without the foresight of Master Ivainir, first in examining the object 13 miles outside of the city, and second by storing this report in his private residence far away from the explosion, the damage would be significantly higher.
If he had placed the object inside the city, we would have lost the whole city, along with its 1.2 million inhabitants. Considering that the mage quarter would have been the epicenter of the explosion I doubt that any mage would have survived.
Without this report, we would not have been able to find the cause of the catastrophe.
It stands to reason that any further weapon would still have caused similar damage, as we would have had no warning.
In this respect, I recommend that not only Master Ivainer will be exonerated from all allegations of chaos magic, but that we posthumously invest him into the Grand Order of Atichin for his deeds.
Respectfully
Argon Telat
[collapse]
