Just verified that the one in my desk drawer was still there.
I use it once or twice a year, just to stay slightly familiar. It's also a good thing to show to the young whippersnappers that think that a desk calculator is old school.
Designing a slide rule is easy. For the basic scales, just take the logarithm of the number in the base desired, then space marks out on the slide according to logarithm while labeling them with the initial numbers. Make two of them, face them to each other, and that's your slide rule.
'City of Fresno'
-
Nik_SpeakerToCats
- Posts: 1693
- Joined: Sat Dec 10, 2022 10:56 am
City of Fresno #74
City of Fresno #74
Arranging our rendezvous with 'Fresno' was an interesting exercise. 'Cooberra', out-bound, must gently accelerate towards a flip-over, then slow, halt, 'reverse' to match steadily braking Fresno's remaining in-bound velocity. Though, in-bound, we'd had the benefit of Fresno's speed, the meet-up would again need about thirty hours. The 'Null Plan' of simply waiting near the iceteroid for Fresno to arrive was not acceptable. Time was of the essence. Whatever, it gave me the chance to do some more training, enjoy the food, log several more 'On Passage' Dog-Watches.
As we'd kept clear of Fresno going by, it was stunning to watch while 'Cooberra' slowly overtook the again fully-lit star-ship. Kindly, Fresno had suspended braking for the duration of our local operations. With both Fore and Aft bridges crewed, 'Cooberra' carefully, precisely delivered the laden catch-cans and the gas-handling pod. .
I'd gathered from a comment by Ms. Betrys that this pod's lesser systems were to be run alongside the main process plant, significantly augmenting volatiles' through-put. To be precise, their combination should empty my lumpy fifteen kilo-tonne glean at least a dozen hours sooner. Thus freeing its can that much earlier to pair with the spare third for the next Tug sortie. Which would, they hoped, promptly ice-slice, collect two more twenty-five kilo-tonne wedges. And, with Fresno due 'On Station' near the iceteroid around then, plus no further need to capture wedges' modest in-transit out-gassing, the following fourth, fifth, even sixth gleans could be run so much faster.
Unsaid, we needed to be done with this iceteroid, continue with Fresno's tetrahedral mapping legs...
Finally, finally, 'Cooberra' approached, docked to the usual leg-port. Anne-Marie swarmed me with passionate enthusiasm. Sparing minimal civilities, she left Ms. Betrys to organise the waiting porters' tour, hauled me to our suite and rapidly littered that with our discarded clothes. After, though young, strong, and aided by the Berthing Pod's reduced 'gravity', we barely found the energy to slither into the en-suite, get clean, dry, then collapse onto the lowest bunk...
"A dozen kilo-tonnes of water !" Anne-Marie whispered as my distracted wits and wrung body slowly re-booted. "A dozen kilo-tonnes !!"
"Uh-huh," I agreed. "And the ice-slicer template driver worked."
"So, you can focus on training," she agreed, rewarded me with another passionate kiss and rib-creaking hug. "That's my Jake !"
And, yes, one thing led to another, requiring a second, rather giggly visit to our en-suite. Some-when, our porters quietly delivered my 'Big Mac' crates to the corridor outside our suite.
After the quality and quantity of catering aboard 'Cooberra', getting back to Diner meals was grim. My 'Dog Watches' and snatched naps made this sad serving lunch. Upside, Anne-Marie's welcome company was an acceptable substitute for ketchup or pickle. And, yes, she could happily chat to me, as if unaware that the other diners were again hanging on her every word. "A dozen kilo-tonnes of water, Jake ! A dozen kilo-tonnes ! Perhaps half as much again ! Just from your manual glean plus one ice-slice ! And each such ice-wedge will bring us another ten ! We'll soon have all the 'Ponics lines up and running !"
"Went better than expected," I allowed. "Cutting template worked well, deeper levels were juicier."
"Jake, this glean even made dour Len Baxter smile !"
"Who ?"
"Second Lieutenant Baxter. Runs Fresno's Logistics," Anne-Marie stated. "Sign on her office reads, 'Logistics, Logistics, Logistics'. Enough said ?"
"Ah..." One of Those ? Some-where between conductor of a big parade's combined bands and 'Beach Master' in a war-zone, such logistics specialists tended to be more than a little 'strange'. At least she was, 'Our Kind of Strange'. The name was vaguely familiar from the social bulletins I skimmed. "Same 'Helen Baxter' who's started a Fresno 'Go' club ?"
"That's her--" Anne-Marie halted, gave me a side-ways look. "You play ?"
"No." I shook my head. My wits were not wired thus. And, as it was clearly my turn to play 'Straight Man', I warned, "Even with the extra water, still take a good while before the first 'Ponic crops are due...
"Will there be enough water and 'medium' to begin brewing edible algae ? For nutritious sea-weed nuggets ? Plankton broth to feed shrimp ?"
"I should think so..." Anne-Marie paused, shook her head. "But Fresno finding this juicy iceteroid was a real stroke of luck. I didn't expect we'd have so much water so soon. We've not even begun cultivating 'seed' cultures for Aqua-ponics, never mind planning or assembling a pilot plant..."
"Another problem," I cautioned. "Your 'Ponics lines are heavy, but their considerable mass is well distributed, securely anchored and braced. Any Aqua tank is a serious, serious 'Point Load'. Unlike a regular run's big 'Spin Drums', these Berthing Pods are simply not built for such...
"Nor are Evac Pods." I took a wary breath. "We may have to put them 'On Axis' in the Stages..."
"Which lack the convenient infrastructure to support them," Anne-Marie mused. "Hmm..."
"And 'ullage' issues ?" I shuddered, stabbing a hapless veggy-nugget with my spork. "Their 'Boost', 'Braking' and 'Barbecue Roll' slosh-damping ? Illuminate, gas, de-gas, feed, stir and harvest the brew ? Ugh..."
Arranging our rendezvous with 'Fresno' was an interesting exercise. 'Cooberra', out-bound, must gently accelerate towards a flip-over, then slow, halt, 'reverse' to match steadily braking Fresno's remaining in-bound velocity. Though, in-bound, we'd had the benefit of Fresno's speed, the meet-up would again need about thirty hours. The 'Null Plan' of simply waiting near the iceteroid for Fresno to arrive was not acceptable. Time was of the essence. Whatever, it gave me the chance to do some more training, enjoy the food, log several more 'On Passage' Dog-Watches.
As we'd kept clear of Fresno going by, it was stunning to watch while 'Cooberra' slowly overtook the again fully-lit star-ship. Kindly, Fresno had suspended braking for the duration of our local operations. With both Fore and Aft bridges crewed, 'Cooberra' carefully, precisely delivered the laden catch-cans and the gas-handling pod. .
I'd gathered from a comment by Ms. Betrys that this pod's lesser systems were to be run alongside the main process plant, significantly augmenting volatiles' through-put. To be precise, their combination should empty my lumpy fifteen kilo-tonne glean at least a dozen hours sooner. Thus freeing its can that much earlier to pair with the spare third for the next Tug sortie. Which would, they hoped, promptly ice-slice, collect two more twenty-five kilo-tonne wedges. And, with Fresno due 'On Station' near the iceteroid around then, plus no further need to capture wedges' modest in-transit out-gassing, the following fourth, fifth, even sixth gleans could be run so much faster.
Unsaid, we needed to be done with this iceteroid, continue with Fresno's tetrahedral mapping legs...
Finally, finally, 'Cooberra' approached, docked to the usual leg-port. Anne-Marie swarmed me with passionate enthusiasm. Sparing minimal civilities, she left Ms. Betrys to organise the waiting porters' tour, hauled me to our suite and rapidly littered that with our discarded clothes. After, though young, strong, and aided by the Berthing Pod's reduced 'gravity', we barely found the energy to slither into the en-suite, get clean, dry, then collapse onto the lowest bunk...
"A dozen kilo-tonnes of water !" Anne-Marie whispered as my distracted wits and wrung body slowly re-booted. "A dozen kilo-tonnes !!"
"Uh-huh," I agreed. "And the ice-slicer template driver worked."
"So, you can focus on training," she agreed, rewarded me with another passionate kiss and rib-creaking hug. "That's my Jake !"
And, yes, one thing led to another, requiring a second, rather giggly visit to our en-suite. Some-when, our porters quietly delivered my 'Big Mac' crates to the corridor outside our suite.
After the quality and quantity of catering aboard 'Cooberra', getting back to Diner meals was grim. My 'Dog Watches' and snatched naps made this sad serving lunch. Upside, Anne-Marie's welcome company was an acceptable substitute for ketchup or pickle. And, yes, she could happily chat to me, as if unaware that the other diners were again hanging on her every word. "A dozen kilo-tonnes of water, Jake ! A dozen kilo-tonnes ! Perhaps half as much again ! Just from your manual glean plus one ice-slice ! And each such ice-wedge will bring us another ten ! We'll soon have all the 'Ponics lines up and running !"
"Went better than expected," I allowed. "Cutting template worked well, deeper levels were juicier."
"Jake, this glean even made dour Len Baxter smile !"
"Who ?"
"Second Lieutenant Baxter. Runs Fresno's Logistics," Anne-Marie stated. "Sign on her office reads, 'Logistics, Logistics, Logistics'. Enough said ?"
"Ah..." One of Those ? Some-where between conductor of a big parade's combined bands and 'Beach Master' in a war-zone, such logistics specialists tended to be more than a little 'strange'. At least she was, 'Our Kind of Strange'. The name was vaguely familiar from the social bulletins I skimmed. "Same 'Helen Baxter' who's started a Fresno 'Go' club ?"
"That's her--" Anne-Marie halted, gave me a side-ways look. "You play ?"
"No." I shook my head. My wits were not wired thus. And, as it was clearly my turn to play 'Straight Man', I warned, "Even with the extra water, still take a good while before the first 'Ponic crops are due...
"Will there be enough water and 'medium' to begin brewing edible algae ? For nutritious sea-weed nuggets ? Plankton broth to feed shrimp ?"
"I should think so..." Anne-Marie paused, shook her head. "But Fresno finding this juicy iceteroid was a real stroke of luck. I didn't expect we'd have so much water so soon. We've not even begun cultivating 'seed' cultures for Aqua-ponics, never mind planning or assembling a pilot plant..."
"Another problem," I cautioned. "Your 'Ponics lines are heavy, but their considerable mass is well distributed, securely anchored and braced. Any Aqua tank is a serious, serious 'Point Load'. Unlike a regular run's big 'Spin Drums', these Berthing Pods are simply not built for such...
"Nor are Evac Pods." I took a wary breath. "We may have to put them 'On Axis' in the Stages..."
"Which lack the convenient infrastructure to support them," Anne-Marie mused. "Hmm..."
"And 'ullage' issues ?" I shuddered, stabbing a hapless veggy-nugget with my spork. "Their 'Boost', 'Braking' and 'Barbecue Roll' slosh-damping ? Illuminate, gas, de-gas, feed, stir and harvest the brew ? Ugh..."
If you cannot see the wood for the trees, deploy LIDAR.
-
jemhouston
- Posts: 5154
- Joined: Fri Nov 18, 2022 12:38 am
Re: 'City of Fresno'
One problem helped, more problems as a result.
-
Nik_SpeakerToCats
- Posts: 1693
- Joined: Sat Dec 10, 2022 10:56 am
City of Fresno #75
City of Fresno #75
Anne-Marie had not organised a 'Service Wash' for our laundry, partly because there'd been too little to be worth-while. Adding our stale smalls from the last few days tipped the balance. Besides, I really, really needed to escape both our small double-suite and those few days aboard congested 'Cooberra'. Not 'claustrophobia', more like a touch of 'cabin fever'. I'd spent too little time on the iceteroid to un-wind. With my part-wash set running, I strolled along to the Stewards' area.
Sheila Lindstrom, on duty, gestured to her nearer wall screen with a certain glee. "Been watching the ice processing !"
My gleaned lumps, being briskly zapped, were out-gassing enthusiastically. I nodded politely, asked, "How do I go about booking your Community room for 'Hard Suit' training ?"
"Ah," she allowed. "You'll have to run that past Lt. Richards..."
"Huh ? Is there a problem ?"
"I'm afraid so." She gestured ambiguously. "A 'Certain Person' borrowed the room for a private 'Prayer Meeting'. Took three whole days for her pheromones to even partially clear. Had to cancel a gig the Gillespies were planning."
"Oh." 'Mater' Harris was, of course, within her rights to request use of the room. So, how to prevent her persistently polluting the premises ? How to set conditions for her that did not unequally apply to others ? I feared clever Anne-Marie or the canny Gillespies would have found, applied any elegant solution, had there been one. "So the temporary fix was to take allocation of the Community room from your authority ?"
"Yes."
"Aargh..." I shook my head. I'd been flagged to run this 'Hard Suit' training. I'd no wish to haul 'Big Mac' too far. I'd surely get the nod to use the Community room. So, how to prevent 'Mater' Harris going on a 'Rights' crusade ? If the Ship's Council was up and running, it would fall within their remit to progressively censure and sanction her for both the pollution and attempted 'Undue Influence' via her synthetic gland's pheromones. Given she could apparently increase emissions to 'sufficiently dose' a fresh environment or to, um, enhance 'Prayer Meetings', I had to wonder if she was just as addicted to the stuff as her 'followers'.
This added unwelcome complexity. The Convention's 'Freedom of Speech' and 'Freedom of Religion' tenets cut both ways: Rabble-rousing Demagogues, pushy Evangelists, fire-brand Preachers, self-declared 'Prophets' and their noxious ilk must tread warily lest they be robustly 'fact-checked', found wanting.
Back at the very start, when the 'Convention' was expanding from its genesis in a sea-port, Pete Jones, their first 'Special Convener', was sent to investigate a Book-brandisher. This Preacher's many, passionate sermons repeated implausible, if not outrageous claims. His growing 'Cult' exhibited bizarre, 'Un-Conventional' behaviour, had scant tolerance for Doubters and Dissenters, never mind Critics. After careful assessment of the Preacher's absurd, un-verifiable promises and rampant, circular illogic, Pete duly 'sanctioned' the perp. Mid-rant. With a bullet between the eyes. Three days later, when a group of desperate disciples tried to steal their Preacher's body from the chapel crypt, perhaps to claim a 'Miracle', Pete killed them, too. Without that promised resurrection, the disillusioned 'Cult' collapsed. Though Pete was reprimanded for 'Excessive Overkill', as ammunition was valuable, his precedent was adopted. It still stood...
But, of course, Fresno's Council was not yet active. And, yes, due 'Conflict of Interest' considerations, Anne-Marie must abstain from voting, as must the gig-cancelled Gillespies, and any-one else 'Mater' Harris had sufficiently riled.
"Hmm..." Against all that, some-times the clue to solving an exasperating, perhaps grid-locked problem lay in taking a side-ways look at the issues. "Hmm ? Ms. Lindstrom, may I use the room Comms ?"
"Surely..." She watched as I composed a polite message to Lt. Richards, cc'd to the Stewards and nascent Ship's Council. Regarding use of this local 'Community' room for 'Hard Suit' training ? In my professional opinion, such required a 'sufficiently clean' environment. To prevent contamination of essential 'Hard Suit' sensors and recycle equipment, of course, of course. Especially as Fresno currently lacked the facilities to reliably purge / re-work / re-process / re-manufacture / replace such technical arcana...
"So, I must formally request that 'Hard Suit' trainers, trainees and other users of the designated room do not attend wearing, bearing or otherwise emitting any persistent perfumes or similar 'Volatile Organic Compounds'. I estimate this unfortunate restriction must commence a week before the training sessions begin, and continue to the end of the series. Which, sadly, given our circumstances, may be 'Open Ended'..."
"Mr. Kinson..." Ms. Lindstrom was clearly fighting a severe attack of the giggles. "You are a wicked, wicked man !"
"When riled," I admitted. "You think it will work ?"
"Three ways," she estimated, giving me a 'High Five'. "Three effin' ways..."
Anne-Marie had not organised a 'Service Wash' for our laundry, partly because there'd been too little to be worth-while. Adding our stale smalls from the last few days tipped the balance. Besides, I really, really needed to escape both our small double-suite and those few days aboard congested 'Cooberra'. Not 'claustrophobia', more like a touch of 'cabin fever'. I'd spent too little time on the iceteroid to un-wind. With my part-wash set running, I strolled along to the Stewards' area.
Sheila Lindstrom, on duty, gestured to her nearer wall screen with a certain glee. "Been watching the ice processing !"
My gleaned lumps, being briskly zapped, were out-gassing enthusiastically. I nodded politely, asked, "How do I go about booking your Community room for 'Hard Suit' training ?"
"Ah," she allowed. "You'll have to run that past Lt. Richards..."
"Huh ? Is there a problem ?"
"I'm afraid so." She gestured ambiguously. "A 'Certain Person' borrowed the room for a private 'Prayer Meeting'. Took three whole days for her pheromones to even partially clear. Had to cancel a gig the Gillespies were planning."
"Oh." 'Mater' Harris was, of course, within her rights to request use of the room. So, how to prevent her persistently polluting the premises ? How to set conditions for her that did not unequally apply to others ? I feared clever Anne-Marie or the canny Gillespies would have found, applied any elegant solution, had there been one. "So the temporary fix was to take allocation of the Community room from your authority ?"
"Yes."
"Aargh..." I shook my head. I'd been flagged to run this 'Hard Suit' training. I'd no wish to haul 'Big Mac' too far. I'd surely get the nod to use the Community room. So, how to prevent 'Mater' Harris going on a 'Rights' crusade ? If the Ship's Council was up and running, it would fall within their remit to progressively censure and sanction her for both the pollution and attempted 'Undue Influence' via her synthetic gland's pheromones. Given she could apparently increase emissions to 'sufficiently dose' a fresh environment or to, um, enhance 'Prayer Meetings', I had to wonder if she was just as addicted to the stuff as her 'followers'.
This added unwelcome complexity. The Convention's 'Freedom of Speech' and 'Freedom of Religion' tenets cut both ways: Rabble-rousing Demagogues, pushy Evangelists, fire-brand Preachers, self-declared 'Prophets' and their noxious ilk must tread warily lest they be robustly 'fact-checked', found wanting.
Back at the very start, when the 'Convention' was expanding from its genesis in a sea-port, Pete Jones, their first 'Special Convener', was sent to investigate a Book-brandisher. This Preacher's many, passionate sermons repeated implausible, if not outrageous claims. His growing 'Cult' exhibited bizarre, 'Un-Conventional' behaviour, had scant tolerance for Doubters and Dissenters, never mind Critics. After careful assessment of the Preacher's absurd, un-verifiable promises and rampant, circular illogic, Pete duly 'sanctioned' the perp. Mid-rant. With a bullet between the eyes. Three days later, when a group of desperate disciples tried to steal their Preacher's body from the chapel crypt, perhaps to claim a 'Miracle', Pete killed them, too. Without that promised resurrection, the disillusioned 'Cult' collapsed. Though Pete was reprimanded for 'Excessive Overkill', as ammunition was valuable, his precedent was adopted. It still stood...
But, of course, Fresno's Council was not yet active. And, yes, due 'Conflict of Interest' considerations, Anne-Marie must abstain from voting, as must the gig-cancelled Gillespies, and any-one else 'Mater' Harris had sufficiently riled.
"Hmm..." Against all that, some-times the clue to solving an exasperating, perhaps grid-locked problem lay in taking a side-ways look at the issues. "Hmm ? Ms. Lindstrom, may I use the room Comms ?"
"Surely..." She watched as I composed a polite message to Lt. Richards, cc'd to the Stewards and nascent Ship's Council. Regarding use of this local 'Community' room for 'Hard Suit' training ? In my professional opinion, such required a 'sufficiently clean' environment. To prevent contamination of essential 'Hard Suit' sensors and recycle equipment, of course, of course. Especially as Fresno currently lacked the facilities to reliably purge / re-work / re-process / re-manufacture / replace such technical arcana...
"So, I must formally request that 'Hard Suit' trainers, trainees and other users of the designated room do not attend wearing, bearing or otherwise emitting any persistent perfumes or similar 'Volatile Organic Compounds'. I estimate this unfortunate restriction must commence a week before the training sessions begin, and continue to the end of the series. Which, sadly, given our circumstances, may be 'Open Ended'..."
"Mr. Kinson..." Ms. Lindstrom was clearly fighting a severe attack of the giggles. "You are a wicked, wicked man !"
"When riled," I admitted. "You think it will work ?"
"Three ways," she estimated, giving me a 'High Five'. "Three effin' ways..."
If you cannot see the wood for the trees, deploy LIDAR.
-
jemhouston
- Posts: 5154
- Joined: Fri Nov 18, 2022 12:38 am
Re: 'City of Fresno'
That's how you handle a rules player, out rule them. 
-
Nik_SpeakerToCats
- Posts: 1693
- Joined: Sat Dec 10, 2022 10:56 am
City of Fresno #76
City of Fresno #76
With Community Room issues potentially resolved, I was just in time to collect my half-load of washing. After untangling the smalls, I neatly hung everything on the lines I strung above the crates in the 'storage' side of our suite. Then it was time to do some work. I called the 'Hard Suit' training folder onto one screen, my notes onto the other. Page by page, note by note, I added those oft-subtle tweaks acquired from the recent sessions aboard 'Cooberra'. Some were just wary disambiguation, some were alternate phrasings, to be sure, to be sure. A precious few were very useful cross-references to Rock Tugs' processes, equipment and procedures.
Studying them and their oft-tangential relevance took me down a 'warren' of interesting tech and extensive documentation. True, little impinged on my 'Big Mac' or, indeed, the Engineers' lesser 'Hard Suits'. Even so, always handy to interject a 'By The Way' note, cross-tie specialities. Us 'Technophiles' truly appreciated such, as showed author or presenter had 'Gone The Extra Kilometre', exhibited 'Joined-Up Thinking'. And, yes, some-times comparing / contrasting Tech specialities could provide valuable synergy. Also, such differing perspectives might flush a potential 'Murphy Bomb' from the shadows. Win / Win / Win, and fun, too...
Seeking possible locations for big aqua-culture tanks, I was studying the 'Berthing Drum' blueprints that Joe McDonald had ported when the next meal-call came. As Anne-Marie did not appear, I chomped through an indifferent serving as best I could. I'd not heard anything from the Diner's 'Reverse Engineers', so must assume I'd only found them a partial solution. Plus, they really, really did not want to rush things, to either crash the system or leave a new 'back door'. They were not responsible for the 'Diner Hack', but it could not be allowed to happen again.
After, I thought to check a notion I'd had regarding a possible location for aqua-culture tanks. Riding the lift to the hub, I negotiated the air-locks and their rotating spherical coupling to the docking leg, then went in-wards to the 'flange'. I'd glimpsed the complex layout while visiting 'Cwm Fahr' and the Engineers, now looked closer.
First, I realised the hexagonal flange was framed and braced to take a docking leg on all six sides, rather than just the three currently fitted. Thinking on this, I remembered how some systems' colonies sent streams of laden tank-pods in-bound from Kuiper-belt refineries. Their cargoes, not urgent, valuable or volatile enough for tug-rides, instead took slow, Newtonian 'Hoffman' elliptical transfer orbits, like so many 'Short Period' comets. There could be many dozens of such pods en-route from each refinery at any time. With tracks and velocities known to a nicety thanks to numbered beacon-strobes, they were easily chased and caught by local Rock Tugs near their inner-system destinations. Sure, five empties at a time, more if 'framed' to a 'raft', could be ferried back out by those 'high value' haulers, but how did so very many empty pods get there at the start ?
Well, yes, seems a 'City Class' could just bolt six-packs of docking legs onto their existing flanges' spare hard-points, ferry umpteen empties. Easy-Peasy. No need to add or subtract flanges, spinal trusses etc etc. Which meant that, half-concealed behind this flange's other mega-structures, I could now see those massive mountings, all unused. And, neatly isolated, clearly labelled, there were stubs waiting to connect, fully service those docking legs and their cargo. Fully service, mind, as so silly not to provide less than the 'regular' legs, to be sure, to be sure.
This flange alone had three big, unused bases, each with convenient hard-points rated for many, many kilo-tonnes of shifting, omni-directional loads. The matching flange at the other end of our 'Berthing' habs offered the same. As did the flange pair for the Rock Tugs. As did *all* the other flanges, from bow to stern...
Of course, we did not yet have the Aqua-ponic tankage or systems, but we certainly had some-where to put them when we did.
I smiled.
Back in our suite, I was checking the draft of my text-mail to Lt. Richards about possible aqua-tank locations when Anne-Marie returned. Her face was tight. I asked, "Trouble ?"
"A little," she almost spat. "Session was a bust. Several trainees simply hadn't done their home-work. Two more, who seemed too well fed until recently, thought us 'Ponics workers would get extra food."
"Uh, no," I allowed. "Not happening."
"Exactly." My partner shook her head like a barn-cat with a rat. "Plus, they were expected to work 'Pro Bono'."
"For the good of Fresno, for the lovely, fresh air, for the congenial company and for the kudos." I shrugged. "And, yes, to build skills for later."
"Exactly." She mimed a side-spit. "So that was them gone, too..."
"Losses in every trade," I murmured, giving her a close hug. "Better to catch them now, rather than find they're 'tithing' the crop."
"Too right ! Jake, my beloved, you have a way with words !"
"When riled," I admitted.
"I can see you've done our washing," she laughed, returning my hug. "Anything else ?"
"Well, as it happens..."
With Community Room issues potentially resolved, I was just in time to collect my half-load of washing. After untangling the smalls, I neatly hung everything on the lines I strung above the crates in the 'storage' side of our suite. Then it was time to do some work. I called the 'Hard Suit' training folder onto one screen, my notes onto the other. Page by page, note by note, I added those oft-subtle tweaks acquired from the recent sessions aboard 'Cooberra'. Some were just wary disambiguation, some were alternate phrasings, to be sure, to be sure. A precious few were very useful cross-references to Rock Tugs' processes, equipment and procedures.
Studying them and their oft-tangential relevance took me down a 'warren' of interesting tech and extensive documentation. True, little impinged on my 'Big Mac' or, indeed, the Engineers' lesser 'Hard Suits'. Even so, always handy to interject a 'By The Way' note, cross-tie specialities. Us 'Technophiles' truly appreciated such, as showed author or presenter had 'Gone The Extra Kilometre', exhibited 'Joined-Up Thinking'. And, yes, some-times comparing / contrasting Tech specialities could provide valuable synergy. Also, such differing perspectives might flush a potential 'Murphy Bomb' from the shadows. Win / Win / Win, and fun, too...
Seeking possible locations for big aqua-culture tanks, I was studying the 'Berthing Drum' blueprints that Joe McDonald had ported when the next meal-call came. As Anne-Marie did not appear, I chomped through an indifferent serving as best I could. I'd not heard anything from the Diner's 'Reverse Engineers', so must assume I'd only found them a partial solution. Plus, they really, really did not want to rush things, to either crash the system or leave a new 'back door'. They were not responsible for the 'Diner Hack', but it could not be allowed to happen again.
After, I thought to check a notion I'd had regarding a possible location for aqua-culture tanks. Riding the lift to the hub, I negotiated the air-locks and their rotating spherical coupling to the docking leg, then went in-wards to the 'flange'. I'd glimpsed the complex layout while visiting 'Cwm Fahr' and the Engineers, now looked closer.
First, I realised the hexagonal flange was framed and braced to take a docking leg on all six sides, rather than just the three currently fitted. Thinking on this, I remembered how some systems' colonies sent streams of laden tank-pods in-bound from Kuiper-belt refineries. Their cargoes, not urgent, valuable or volatile enough for tug-rides, instead took slow, Newtonian 'Hoffman' elliptical transfer orbits, like so many 'Short Period' comets. There could be many dozens of such pods en-route from each refinery at any time. With tracks and velocities known to a nicety thanks to numbered beacon-strobes, they were easily chased and caught by local Rock Tugs near their inner-system destinations. Sure, five empties at a time, more if 'framed' to a 'raft', could be ferried back out by those 'high value' haulers, but how did so very many empty pods get there at the start ?
Well, yes, seems a 'City Class' could just bolt six-packs of docking legs onto their existing flanges' spare hard-points, ferry umpteen empties. Easy-Peasy. No need to add or subtract flanges, spinal trusses etc etc. Which meant that, half-concealed behind this flange's other mega-structures, I could now see those massive mountings, all unused. And, neatly isolated, clearly labelled, there were stubs waiting to connect, fully service those docking legs and their cargo. Fully service, mind, as so silly not to provide less than the 'regular' legs, to be sure, to be sure.
This flange alone had three big, unused bases, each with convenient hard-points rated for many, many kilo-tonnes of shifting, omni-directional loads. The matching flange at the other end of our 'Berthing' habs offered the same. As did the flange pair for the Rock Tugs. As did *all* the other flanges, from bow to stern...
Of course, we did not yet have the Aqua-ponic tankage or systems, but we certainly had some-where to put them when we did.
I smiled.
Back in our suite, I was checking the draft of my text-mail to Lt. Richards about possible aqua-tank locations when Anne-Marie returned. Her face was tight. I asked, "Trouble ?"
"A little," she almost spat. "Session was a bust. Several trainees simply hadn't done their home-work. Two more, who seemed too well fed until recently, thought us 'Ponics workers would get extra food."
"Uh, no," I allowed. "Not happening."
"Exactly." My partner shook her head like a barn-cat with a rat. "Plus, they were expected to work 'Pro Bono'."
"For the good of Fresno, for the lovely, fresh air, for the congenial company and for the kudos." I shrugged. "And, yes, to build skills for later."
"Exactly." She mimed a side-spit. "So that was them gone, too..."
"Losses in every trade," I murmured, giving her a close hug. "Better to catch them now, rather than find they're 'tithing' the crop."
"Too right ! Jake, my beloved, you have a way with words !"
"When riled," I admitted.
"I can see you've done our washing," she laughed, returning my hug. "Anything else ?"
"Well, as it happens..."
If you cannot see the wood for the trees, deploy LIDAR.
-
Nik_SpeakerToCats
- Posts: 1693
- Joined: Sat Dec 10, 2022 10:56 am
City of Fresno #77
City of Fresno #77
Anne-Marie's restored good humour lasted beyond our un-inspiring breakfasts. After which, she said, "Okay, Jake, show me."
We went up, across, inward to the 'flange'. My partner studied the bracing configuration with fresh eyes. I could see her estimating angles, access. Finally, she nodded politely, said, "Well spotted, Jake. Very well spotted. This is a serious piece of the jigsaw. Now we just have to figure tankage..."
"Sorry, I've drawn a blank on that," I admitted, cautiously adding the proviso, "So far."
"Yeah," Anne-Marie nodded. "All the 'Ponics stuff is pallet-sized. Even the stock IBCs are only a cubic metre, a tonne, sized for pallet trucks and standard air-locks...
"I don't remember anything left from the 'Evac' pods that's bigger than 'pilot' plant. And what about your scary 'ullage' issue ?"
"Ah, I sorta figured a fix for that. Assuming we find the makings for hefty tanks, of course ?"
"Of course..."
"Ideal would be a sphere--"
"Ha !" Anne-Marie laughed. "One of our 'Applied Math' tutors used to drive us crazy by starting, 'Assume a spherical what-ever'... "
I nodded politely. I'd had such, too. "But brew tanks often have a conical base. And, a-top a short, cylindrical mid-section, a conical lid--"
"A sphere," Anne-Marie laughed again, "at least to a 'First Approximation' ?"
"Yeah. So, fluid stays much the same if tilted. Stir with one big paddle or pairs of contra-rotating smaller, which double as slosh-baffles. If four axles,, one per quadrant, may need an 'Archimedes Screw' up the middle to stir their dead-spot."
"Feed gasses via perforated paddle stems." Anne-Marie nodded. "Neat."
"And tank panels do not have to be curved, as polygonal flats would do."
"Oh, Jake !"
"Straight welds." I grinned. "All straight welds. Even 'cones' as polygonal pyramids. Even ports, through flat panels. Fresno's remote 'Spiders' would easily manage all those. And, we'd bring the makings in as 'flat-pack', assemble in place. No need to get 'Big Round Stuff' through air-locks and hatch-ways."
"Okay," she admitted. " That's a potential fix for 'dark' brews, but what about photo-synthetics ?"
"Beats me," I shrugged. "Your 'Ponics lighting panels are seriously splash and hose-resistant, but *not* submersible. We don't yet have the makings for big 'light pipes'. Best I can reckon is windowed port-holes in the sides, powerful lights shining in. With wipers, of course."
"Of course !" Her musical laugh was another very welcome balm for my wits.
Then I slapped my brow, cried, "Oh, I've been so stupid ! Don't you see ? Round Aqua tanks have a symmetry axis, so suit 3D-Printing ! Right here !"
That earned me a smooch and hug that left me gasping. Back in the suite, Anne-Marie pulled up her Agronomy library's Aqua files. Though it did not suit Hydroponics here or on Chaparral, she knew of seasonally flooding fields and 'flood-irrigated' crops that benefited from having fish around. Just as chickens, ducks and geese could be effective predators of 'dry' fields' slugs, snails, caterpillars and grass-hoppers, some fish efficiently culled water snails and mosquito larvae.
Anne-Marie left me perusing the Classic 'Aquaponic Gardening' by 'Bernstein Et Al'. A pre-Burn survivor, adapted, extended, revised a dozen times, this authoritative hand-book some-how retained its concise charm.
Later that day, Lt. Richards circulated an official notice 'clarifying' access to 'Community Rooms' and similar areas. Though formally paraphrased, it had stayed remarkably close to my terse wording. I sighed. Given our sad history, 'Mater' Harris must surely assume my 'Hidden Hand' behind this fresh imposition. And, of course, she'd be *sufficiently* correct. I feared storm clouds ahead...
Anne-Marie's restored good humour lasted beyond our un-inspiring breakfasts. After which, she said, "Okay, Jake, show me."
We went up, across, inward to the 'flange'. My partner studied the bracing configuration with fresh eyes. I could see her estimating angles, access. Finally, she nodded politely, said, "Well spotted, Jake. Very well spotted. This is a serious piece of the jigsaw. Now we just have to figure tankage..."
"Sorry, I've drawn a blank on that," I admitted, cautiously adding the proviso, "So far."
"Yeah," Anne-Marie nodded. "All the 'Ponics stuff is pallet-sized. Even the stock IBCs are only a cubic metre, a tonne, sized for pallet trucks and standard air-locks...
"I don't remember anything left from the 'Evac' pods that's bigger than 'pilot' plant. And what about your scary 'ullage' issue ?"
"Ah, I sorta figured a fix for that. Assuming we find the makings for hefty tanks, of course ?"
"Of course..."
"Ideal would be a sphere--"
"Ha !" Anne-Marie laughed. "One of our 'Applied Math' tutors used to drive us crazy by starting, 'Assume a spherical what-ever'... "
I nodded politely. I'd had such, too. "But brew tanks often have a conical base. And, a-top a short, cylindrical mid-section, a conical lid--"
"A sphere," Anne-Marie laughed again, "at least to a 'First Approximation' ?"
"Yeah. So, fluid stays much the same if tilted. Stir with one big paddle or pairs of contra-rotating smaller, which double as slosh-baffles. If four axles,, one per quadrant, may need an 'Archimedes Screw' up the middle to stir their dead-spot."
"Feed gasses via perforated paddle stems." Anne-Marie nodded. "Neat."
"And tank panels do not have to be curved, as polygonal flats would do."
"Oh, Jake !"
"Straight welds." I grinned. "All straight welds. Even 'cones' as polygonal pyramids. Even ports, through flat panels. Fresno's remote 'Spiders' would easily manage all those. And, we'd bring the makings in as 'flat-pack', assemble in place. No need to get 'Big Round Stuff' through air-locks and hatch-ways."
"Okay," she admitted. " That's a potential fix for 'dark' brews, but what about photo-synthetics ?"
"Beats me," I shrugged. "Your 'Ponics lighting panels are seriously splash and hose-resistant, but *not* submersible. We don't yet have the makings for big 'light pipes'. Best I can reckon is windowed port-holes in the sides, powerful lights shining in. With wipers, of course."
"Of course !" Her musical laugh was another very welcome balm for my wits.
Then I slapped my brow, cried, "Oh, I've been so stupid ! Don't you see ? Round Aqua tanks have a symmetry axis, so suit 3D-Printing ! Right here !"
That earned me a smooch and hug that left me gasping. Back in the suite, Anne-Marie pulled up her Agronomy library's Aqua files. Though it did not suit Hydroponics here or on Chaparral, she knew of seasonally flooding fields and 'flood-irrigated' crops that benefited from having fish around. Just as chickens, ducks and geese could be effective predators of 'dry' fields' slugs, snails, caterpillars and grass-hoppers, some fish efficiently culled water snails and mosquito larvae.
Anne-Marie left me perusing the Classic 'Aquaponic Gardening' by 'Bernstein Et Al'. A pre-Burn survivor, adapted, extended, revised a dozen times, this authoritative hand-book some-how retained its concise charm.
Later that day, Lt. Richards circulated an official notice 'clarifying' access to 'Community Rooms' and similar areas. Though formally paraphrased, it had stayed remarkably close to my terse wording. I sighed. Given our sad history, 'Mater' Harris must surely assume my 'Hidden Hand' behind this fresh imposition. And, of course, she'd be *sufficiently* correct. I feared storm clouds ahead...
If you cannot see the wood for the trees, deploy LIDAR.
-
jemhouston
- Posts: 5154
- Joined: Fri Nov 18, 2022 12:38 am
Re: 'City of Fresno'
How are you doing?
-
Nik_SpeakerToCats
- Posts: 1693
- Joined: Sat Dec 10, 2022 10:56 am
Re: 'City of Fresno'
Thank you for asking.
Eye-sight's improved a bit, well, 'sorta-kinda'...
Blobby now translucent rather than nigh-opaque, am seeing more colour, plus keep learning work-arounds for stuff: Ctrl-Scroll for the wwwin !!
Have hi-vis kbd, black on yellow.
Currently able to write in 20pt APHont rather than initial ~24pt.
Have growing pile of books, magazines I cannot yet read, even with magnifier.
Now working on Fresno #82...
Next eye-injection due ~ 09 Dec
Brrr...
Still working on 'Fresno and the Tarbals'. 'The Far-strider Mission #2 of 3', 'Venturer_7'...
And, yes, that ruddy chapter of WIRS which refuses to 'Play Nice': Although I figured a logical fix, it opened 'Can of Worms' consequence cascade which I've yet to untangle...
Accidentally began documenting what happened to 'City of Trieste'.
Yeah, I know you've never heard of that ship, but they were less lucky than 'Fresno'...
Remember Jake's comment about Fresno's evacuees being 'Tech Heavy' ? Fresno's Lt. Svenson, "...Though close to the galactic plane..." ? And Lt. Richards, "At least we are still in the 'Thin Disk'. A 'Thick Disk' or 'Halo' location would be so much sparser..."
Trieste didn't reach 'Donner Band' stage, but the isolated system they found with an earth-like planet came with its own problems, including political...
Eye-sight's improved a bit, well, 'sorta-kinda'...
Blobby now translucent rather than nigh-opaque, am seeing more colour, plus keep learning work-arounds for stuff: Ctrl-Scroll for the wwwin !!
Have hi-vis kbd, black on yellow.
Currently able to write in 20pt APHont rather than initial ~24pt.
Have growing pile of books, magazines I cannot yet read, even with magnifier.
Now working on Fresno #82...
Next eye-injection due ~ 09 Dec
Brrr...
Still working on 'Fresno and the Tarbals'. 'The Far-strider Mission #2 of 3', 'Venturer_7'...
And, yes, that ruddy chapter of WIRS which refuses to 'Play Nice': Although I figured a logical fix, it opened 'Can of Worms' consequence cascade which I've yet to untangle...
Accidentally began documenting what happened to 'City of Trieste'.
Yeah, I know you've never heard of that ship, but they were less lucky than 'Fresno'...
Remember Jake's comment about Fresno's evacuees being 'Tech Heavy' ? Fresno's Lt. Svenson, "...Though close to the galactic plane..." ? And Lt. Richards, "At least we are still in the 'Thin Disk'. A 'Thick Disk' or 'Halo' location would be so much sparser..."
Trieste didn't reach 'Donner Band' stage, but the isolated system they found with an earth-like planet came with its own problems, including political...
If you cannot see the wood for the trees, deploy LIDAR.
-
jemhouston
- Posts: 5154
- Joined: Fri Nov 18, 2022 12:38 am
Re: 'City of Fresno'
Thanks for the update. Prayers sent again.
-
Nik_SpeakerToCats
- Posts: 1693
- Joined: Sat Dec 10, 2022 10:56 am
City of Fresno #78
City of Fresno #78
I'd sent some of my thoughts concerning tool-room facility boot-strapping to the Engineers. They generally concurred with my concerns and caution. 2nd Eng Charles Y. Metford kindly forwarded a library link to a true 'Golden Oldie', the Classic, definitive, 'Foundations of Mechanical Accuracy' by Wayne Moore. I was awed. Old long, long before 'The Burn', it dared measure and deliver to millionths of an inch instead of mere 'thous'. Necessarily, the higher-precision equipment it described required truly massive 'beds' and 'frames' compared to 'routine' machines.
I shuddered. The wary principles and precautions it described were time-less, utterly portable. Those 'millionths' less so.
One of the cautionary tales from 'Pre Burn' times was the grim 'Merlin Lesson'. Back during the ghastly Second Global War, the 'Pacific Phase' dragged on beyond the 'European Theatre' until the Western Alliance's pair of 'Nuclear Devices' finally delivered 'Force Majeure'. Before that, the Alliance had transferred much technology between members. This often created 'interesting' problems. I'd read that Rus engineers had meticulously copied a US bomber down to several mis-drilled mounting bracket holes. But the 'Merlin' issues were in a different league. Trying to mass produce those remarkable UK internal combustion aero-engines in the safety of Continental USA ran into a multitude of problems.
Beyond mere language differences, US and UK terminology often having subtly variant usage, meaning and cascading implications, converting dimensions proved fraught. For 'lesser' applications of those wondrous engines, such as eg 'armoured vehicles', it would have been much less problematic. No, these were intended to power a new generation of fighter aircraft. They were soon beset by apparently harmless rounding errors during conversion between their two 'very similar' mensuration systems. It wasn't even a case of fractional inches vs millimetres. No, it was much, much worse.
An infamous 'Oopsie' began where oil-ways' diameters and chamfers differed between crank-shaft bearings. One, slightly rounded up, proved subtly over-sized, stealing lube oil from the next which, slightly rounded down, proved unable to adequately lubricate that part. Accelerated wear ensued, even 'Spontaneous Disassembly'. Not good. Double-plus un-good, in fact. Long walk out a short air-lock time. Hope your parachute worked, and a Catalina flying-boat arrived before the sharks....
There were other problems, with some apparently irrelevant details explained only by a Gallic-grade shrug and rueful admission, 'WWW: Won't Work Without'. Before CAD/CAM and dynamic digital modelling, such quirks often stemmed from two decades of frantic aero-engine development and refurbishment. What was essential as-is ? What could be allowed or required some wriggle room ? Sometimes, with hind-sight, whiskers of additional clearance *here* and *there* were found necessary to relieve specific sudden, savage stress. Such as momentary flexure generated by torque of 'urgently' applied 'Full Military Power'. To no great surprise, US Merlin production soon ceased after hostilities ended. They had their own super-engines with their own problems, but failure modes they *mostly* understood. Plus, yes, the Jet era was arriving...
I'd sent some of my thoughts concerning tool-room facility boot-strapping to the Engineers. They generally concurred with my concerns and caution. 2nd Eng Charles Y. Metford kindly forwarded a library link to a true 'Golden Oldie', the Classic, definitive, 'Foundations of Mechanical Accuracy' by Wayne Moore. I was awed. Old long, long before 'The Burn', it dared measure and deliver to millionths of an inch instead of mere 'thous'. Necessarily, the higher-precision equipment it described required truly massive 'beds' and 'frames' compared to 'routine' machines.
I shuddered. The wary principles and precautions it described were time-less, utterly portable. Those 'millionths' less so.
One of the cautionary tales from 'Pre Burn' times was the grim 'Merlin Lesson'. Back during the ghastly Second Global War, the 'Pacific Phase' dragged on beyond the 'European Theatre' until the Western Alliance's pair of 'Nuclear Devices' finally delivered 'Force Majeure'. Before that, the Alliance had transferred much technology between members. This often created 'interesting' problems. I'd read that Rus engineers had meticulously copied a US bomber down to several mis-drilled mounting bracket holes. But the 'Merlin' issues were in a different league. Trying to mass produce those remarkable UK internal combustion aero-engines in the safety of Continental USA ran into a multitude of problems.
Beyond mere language differences, US and UK terminology often having subtly variant usage, meaning and cascading implications, converting dimensions proved fraught. For 'lesser' applications of those wondrous engines, such as eg 'armoured vehicles', it would have been much less problematic. No, these were intended to power a new generation of fighter aircraft. They were soon beset by apparently harmless rounding errors during conversion between their two 'very similar' mensuration systems. It wasn't even a case of fractional inches vs millimetres. No, it was much, much worse.
An infamous 'Oopsie' began where oil-ways' diameters and chamfers differed between crank-shaft bearings. One, slightly rounded up, proved subtly over-sized, stealing lube oil from the next which, slightly rounded down, proved unable to adequately lubricate that part. Accelerated wear ensued, even 'Spontaneous Disassembly'. Not good. Double-plus un-good, in fact. Long walk out a short air-lock time. Hope your parachute worked, and a Catalina flying-boat arrived before the sharks....
There were other problems, with some apparently irrelevant details explained only by a Gallic-grade shrug and rueful admission, 'WWW: Won't Work Without'. Before CAD/CAM and dynamic digital modelling, such quirks often stemmed from two decades of frantic aero-engine development and refurbishment. What was essential as-is ? What could be allowed or required some wriggle room ? Sometimes, with hind-sight, whiskers of additional clearance *here* and *there* were found necessary to relieve specific sudden, savage stress. Such as momentary flexure generated by torque of 'urgently' applied 'Full Military Power'. To no great surprise, US Merlin production soon ceased after hostilities ended. They had their own super-engines with their own problems, but failure modes they *mostly* understood. Plus, yes, the Jet era was arriving...
If you cannot see the wood for the trees, deploy LIDAR.
-
Nik_SpeakerToCats
- Posts: 1693
- Joined: Sat Dec 10, 2022 10:56 am
City of Fresno #79
City of Fresno #79
According to my log, while waiting for Lt. Richards' nod to begin 'Hard Suit' training, I spent much of several long days studying Aqua-ponics. Beyond those part-familiar and unfamiliar processes, I cross-matched the different sensors they'd need against what we had, could adapt or must contrive. I integrated my 'Hard Suit' notes to that training, added a few more tangential 'asides'. I recorded when 'Cwm Fahr' collected two cans, went off to glean a pair of hunky, template-guided ice-slices.
Between times, I trawled my Geology and Fresno's library for what I'd best describe as 'Edge Cases'. What were the chances of finding a nice, terrestrial planet in a placid star's habitable zone ? Well, scant, unless we 'made nice' with existing occupants. Worse, our rampant flora and fauna was the very definition of 'Invasive Species'. At the very least, any deployment could be 'Unethical'. Sure, Lt. Svenson had no evidence of local life, star-faring or otherwise, but better to be prepared, have a robust 'Plan_B'.
Yes, yes, we really, really would prefer Earth-like conditions of gravity, temperature and pressure, but what could we tolerate ? And still thrive ?
First, humans needed 'reasonable' gravity to keep their bodies in good condition. Such gravity was still utterly necessary for 'correct' foetal development. On the Moon and Mars, big 'centrifuges', like shallow 'spin drums', were medical essentials. Our current 'Berthing Drums' were at the lower end of that acceptable 'gravity' range. But, hey, they were only intended for 'urgent evac'. Supporting a potential population expansion was not expected.
Increasing 'Berthing Drums' spin rate was not a good idea. The radius was already low enough to cause unpleasant Coriolis issues. Sure, most of us soon acquired our 'Spin Legs', but more would not be good. The Crew spin-drum was slightly faster, to maintain fitness given their many zero-g work-stations, but they usually spent a lot of off-duty time in the ship's usual complement of bigger, 'City Class' spin-drums.
At a pinch, we could re-purpose a 'pallet tug' and trailers, drive that 'road-train' around and around the scant-used 'ring' corridors adjoining these Berthing Drums' midway bulkhead. That would sufficiently augment the riders' apparent gravity, even if it felt like a 'mountain railway'. And, yes, given 'fair' 'Ponics cropping, a lot of us would be jogging along.
Mildly higher gravity was less of a problem. I reckoned we could easily 'train up' to about an extra third. Yes, at the top end, we'd probably welcome time in swimming and bathing pools. And, yes, some of the shuttles' Field Poles' might be re-purposed to hold some living spaces at more congenial levels. That 1.3 gravity, given the diversity of our body-forms, was even similar to the extra mass 'Mater' Harris still carried compared to several 'just stocky' folk. I doubted she'd be pleased to be further laden. Beyond 1.5 gravity though, we'd face safety issues. We'd all have to wear fall-protection padding, at least at first.
Pressure ? The Spanish Conquistadores learned the hard way that it took several generations for 'coastal' folk to adapt to the thinner, oxygen-weak air of those Andean ranges and their intermontane 'High Valleys'. It was much, much worse for regions such as the 'Four Kilometre' Tibetan Plateau. Persistent issues with 'Mountain Sickness' among Himalayan tourists at the 'Five Kilometre' Base Camps warned that some people simply lacked the epigenetics to 'acclimatise', cope without supplementary oxygen. And, unwarily supplementing thus could have ghastly consequences for fetal development.
What about yet lower pressures ? Such ranged from Trilorn's 'Six Kilometres' through Mars' 'Forty Kilometres' to the 'High Vacuum' of the Moon and umpteen asteroids. Their solution resembled 'grounded space-stations'. Surface domes were multi-skinned, with progressively lower pressure in each layer to mitigate stress and limit failure. Always, always, they had a well-shielded 'storm-cellar'. This tied into 'Plan_B', a warren of habitation and light industry akin to Trilorn and the shelters we'd just excavated on 'Chaparral'. Such were amply deep enough for their rock cover to both hold down hab lids and 'stand off' meteorite showers, small bolides or solar mega-flares.
Did the two 'undelivered' cargo pods include tunnelling equipment ? I sent a wary e-text to the team sorting through the manifests. Hey, we could get lucky ! And, of course, if we had any, even sized for 'accommodation area' corridors and cabins per these 'Berthing Pods', we'd surely find a use...
To a degree, higher pressure was less problematic than low. 'Technical Diving' had long established the robust procedures and protocols to prevent oxygen and nitrogen narcosis, using some helium to keep the mix safely breathable. 'Mostly' safe, of course, of course, as human metabolism could be fussy and idiosyncratic. At least robust decompression stages and times were known, both for 'sortie' and 'resident' operation.
To the best of my knowledge though, library searches also drawing blank, there was nothing, nothing about the effects of heliox mix on foetal development...
There was a further scary 'gotcha': Such helium got into *everything*. It waltzed through nominally hermetic seals, crept inside electronic components along their legs, caused havoc if pressure was cycled without very, very careful engineering tweaks and precautions. This was something 'Gas Diver' Tugs must respect, as both hydrogen and helium could make unwanted, unpredictable ingress unless internal pressure exceeded external by a wary margin. As I remembered it, keeping a 200 millibar, fifth-Atmosphere differential above external was 'Strongly Recommended'...
Temperature ? I would prefer a temperate 'Western Maritime' clime, even if it often ran through five or six seasons a day, punctuated by rain from 'drizzle', via 'lazy' to 'down-pour'. Skinny, I seriously disliked the cold, so would prefer to avoid Arctic and sub-Arctic conditions.
An 'ice-house' planet or global ice-age could be quite a challenge. Sufficient 'temperate' land around the Equator would suffice. But what if that zone was really narrow ? Or, worse, the planet was 'face-locked', with but a temperate crescent or partial arc of 'Libration Zone' at each side ?
Restricted thus, we risked an 'Easter Island' scenario. Over several generations, their 'entitled' tribal elite mismanaged an essential, yet apparently inexhaustible natural resource: For 'reasons', they progressively cut back the volcanic island's vigorous native palm forest. This shifted the local micro-climate to semi-arid, hampering re-growth. The settlers' pigs and inevitable rats destroyed saplings, seedlings. Eventually, all those palms were gone, gone, gone. This loss then set hard limits on the culture: No palm nuts, no palm leaves, no old-growth tree-trunks for sea-going proas and catamarans...
Was a planet's ice-age due shading by an orbital dust-ring ? Such could be variously resolved: Adding moonlets to mop up dust, ionising with electron beams to drive aggregation, even set a Rock Tug sweeping in 'Push-Me-Pull-You' mode.
As ice-caps were mostly white, with a very high albedo, they reflected much of the incoming solar radiation. So, even after clearing a shading dust-ring, they would endure. As would natural, 'Milankovitch Cycle' ice-caps. What to do ? Well, were there any semi-dormant, high latitude volcanoes ? Kicking such alive with supersonic kilo-tonne bolides would both dirty ice-caps across a vast swathe, significantly reducing their albedo, and usefully augment atmospheric 'green-house' carbon dioxide gas. Whacking sub-glacial 'volcanic fields' thus was a definite 'Twofer'. And, yes, would be a seriously wild spectacle...
Flip-side to an ice-age's too-narrow temperate zone was a global ocean. Think 'Chaparral' with deep swamps or Autumn's shallow seas instead of marsh: There'd be no mining of those essential trace minerals from sea-bed strata. And, with such Tepuis again the isolated reefs and low 'coral' islands they'd once been, again with the 'Easter Island' analogy...
Provided we found sufficient land for a secure 'dry-foot' base, there were technical 'fixes'. 'SeaCrete', the electrolytic deposition of carbonate 'coralline' rock, initially seemed to have wondrous prospects. There were plans to craft heroic aquatic habitats, even marine cities. The sad 'gotcha' was the process stopped working effectively long, long before such layers reached 'load bearing' per poured concrete.
But, and it was a wry 'but', the process was later found to work surprisingly well for 'artisanal' reef and beach remediation. Emplace electrodes, empower *intermittently*, such as with 'renewable' solar / wind power. This was essential to let fresh brine diffuse into the 'SeaCrete' lest electrodes 'starve', the bane of those mega-projects. Barren sandy sea-beds and storm-ripped 'reef passes' soon sprouted 'bollards'. Such 'boot-strap' natural reef formation and recovery, drawing fish. Shifting sand-bars and muddy banks ? Emplace an electrode web, again empower *intermittently* to 'bind' in place. Beside protecting inlets and small harbours from silting and bar migrations, this DIY reef could provide a useful 'speed bump' to mitigate erosive seas' storm waves.
Similar patient electro-deposition and electrolysis could also supply feed-stock for light-metal extraction and a modest chemical industry, thankfully without the need for vast salt-pans...
A mostly-ocean world could well be anoxic beyond what our introduced photo-synthetic bacteria were busily producing. Still, we could stabilise sand bars and mud banks, grow our 'beach-head'. A planet at the hotter end might be more of a problem. A spa-hot ocean was scary, though introduced oxygenating thermophiles should love it, mega-storms and all.
Of course, so much depended on water coverage. What if the planet was much, much dryer, so even cooler regions were arid or semi-desert ? Perhaps with only seasonal rivers, lakes and thunder-storms ? Consider Arabia, where travellers are still more at risk from flash-floods than sand-storms. Namib's seasonal rivers rarely reach the coast, usually sinking into their sandy beds. Australia has epic El-Nino / La Nina cycles, swinging from cruel, multi-year droughts to astonishing 'Wets'. Those visits to my parents studying that Tibesti Massif taught young me there really, really can be too much heat.
Still, provided there were regions with a water cycle of sorts, and a 'reasonably' accessible water table, we could probably manage. Down-side, to ease habs' 'climate control', we might have to 'dig in' per those 'well houses' of North Africa, the warrens of Cappadocia or the tunnel homes of 'Coober Peedy'. At the extreme, I would not care to rely on 'imported' water, or need to recycle as strictly as in space. There were far, far too many ways for a water-scarce society to become fixated, toxic.
Whatever, cold and/or low pressure would probably lead us towards Equatorial low-lands, while avoiding 'Katabatic Channels' or, worse, 'Cold Traps' such as the vast Yellowstone Caldera. Conversely, heat and/or high pressure would send us to higher latitudes and altitudes. Avoiding 'temperature inversion' basins was essential, lest persistent smog develop.
I knew no real planet would be as simple as these 'Edge Cases', but better to consider them now, rather than 'On the Fly' in a crazy rush...
According to my log, while waiting for Lt. Richards' nod to begin 'Hard Suit' training, I spent much of several long days studying Aqua-ponics. Beyond those part-familiar and unfamiliar processes, I cross-matched the different sensors they'd need against what we had, could adapt or must contrive. I integrated my 'Hard Suit' notes to that training, added a few more tangential 'asides'. I recorded when 'Cwm Fahr' collected two cans, went off to glean a pair of hunky, template-guided ice-slices.
Between times, I trawled my Geology and Fresno's library for what I'd best describe as 'Edge Cases'. What were the chances of finding a nice, terrestrial planet in a placid star's habitable zone ? Well, scant, unless we 'made nice' with existing occupants. Worse, our rampant flora and fauna was the very definition of 'Invasive Species'. At the very least, any deployment could be 'Unethical'. Sure, Lt. Svenson had no evidence of local life, star-faring or otherwise, but better to be prepared, have a robust 'Plan_B'.
Yes, yes, we really, really would prefer Earth-like conditions of gravity, temperature and pressure, but what could we tolerate ? And still thrive ?
First, humans needed 'reasonable' gravity to keep their bodies in good condition. Such gravity was still utterly necessary for 'correct' foetal development. On the Moon and Mars, big 'centrifuges', like shallow 'spin drums', were medical essentials. Our current 'Berthing Drums' were at the lower end of that acceptable 'gravity' range. But, hey, they were only intended for 'urgent evac'. Supporting a potential population expansion was not expected.
Increasing 'Berthing Drums' spin rate was not a good idea. The radius was already low enough to cause unpleasant Coriolis issues. Sure, most of us soon acquired our 'Spin Legs', but more would not be good. The Crew spin-drum was slightly faster, to maintain fitness given their many zero-g work-stations, but they usually spent a lot of off-duty time in the ship's usual complement of bigger, 'City Class' spin-drums.
At a pinch, we could re-purpose a 'pallet tug' and trailers, drive that 'road-train' around and around the scant-used 'ring' corridors adjoining these Berthing Drums' midway bulkhead. That would sufficiently augment the riders' apparent gravity, even if it felt like a 'mountain railway'. And, yes, given 'fair' 'Ponics cropping, a lot of us would be jogging along.
Mildly higher gravity was less of a problem. I reckoned we could easily 'train up' to about an extra third. Yes, at the top end, we'd probably welcome time in swimming and bathing pools. And, yes, some of the shuttles' Field Poles' might be re-purposed to hold some living spaces at more congenial levels. That 1.3 gravity, given the diversity of our body-forms, was even similar to the extra mass 'Mater' Harris still carried compared to several 'just stocky' folk. I doubted she'd be pleased to be further laden. Beyond 1.5 gravity though, we'd face safety issues. We'd all have to wear fall-protection padding, at least at first.
Pressure ? The Spanish Conquistadores learned the hard way that it took several generations for 'coastal' folk to adapt to the thinner, oxygen-weak air of those Andean ranges and their intermontane 'High Valleys'. It was much, much worse for regions such as the 'Four Kilometre' Tibetan Plateau. Persistent issues with 'Mountain Sickness' among Himalayan tourists at the 'Five Kilometre' Base Camps warned that some people simply lacked the epigenetics to 'acclimatise', cope without supplementary oxygen. And, unwarily supplementing thus could have ghastly consequences for fetal development.
What about yet lower pressures ? Such ranged from Trilorn's 'Six Kilometres' through Mars' 'Forty Kilometres' to the 'High Vacuum' of the Moon and umpteen asteroids. Their solution resembled 'grounded space-stations'. Surface domes were multi-skinned, with progressively lower pressure in each layer to mitigate stress and limit failure. Always, always, they had a well-shielded 'storm-cellar'. This tied into 'Plan_B', a warren of habitation and light industry akin to Trilorn and the shelters we'd just excavated on 'Chaparral'. Such were amply deep enough for their rock cover to both hold down hab lids and 'stand off' meteorite showers, small bolides or solar mega-flares.
Did the two 'undelivered' cargo pods include tunnelling equipment ? I sent a wary e-text to the team sorting through the manifests. Hey, we could get lucky ! And, of course, if we had any, even sized for 'accommodation area' corridors and cabins per these 'Berthing Pods', we'd surely find a use...
To a degree, higher pressure was less problematic than low. 'Technical Diving' had long established the robust procedures and protocols to prevent oxygen and nitrogen narcosis, using some helium to keep the mix safely breathable. 'Mostly' safe, of course, of course, as human metabolism could be fussy and idiosyncratic. At least robust decompression stages and times were known, both for 'sortie' and 'resident' operation.
To the best of my knowledge though, library searches also drawing blank, there was nothing, nothing about the effects of heliox mix on foetal development...
There was a further scary 'gotcha': Such helium got into *everything*. It waltzed through nominally hermetic seals, crept inside electronic components along their legs, caused havoc if pressure was cycled without very, very careful engineering tweaks and precautions. This was something 'Gas Diver' Tugs must respect, as both hydrogen and helium could make unwanted, unpredictable ingress unless internal pressure exceeded external by a wary margin. As I remembered it, keeping a 200 millibar, fifth-Atmosphere differential above external was 'Strongly Recommended'...
Temperature ? I would prefer a temperate 'Western Maritime' clime, even if it often ran through five or six seasons a day, punctuated by rain from 'drizzle', via 'lazy' to 'down-pour'. Skinny, I seriously disliked the cold, so would prefer to avoid Arctic and sub-Arctic conditions.
An 'ice-house' planet or global ice-age could be quite a challenge. Sufficient 'temperate' land around the Equator would suffice. But what if that zone was really narrow ? Or, worse, the planet was 'face-locked', with but a temperate crescent or partial arc of 'Libration Zone' at each side ?
Restricted thus, we risked an 'Easter Island' scenario. Over several generations, their 'entitled' tribal elite mismanaged an essential, yet apparently inexhaustible natural resource: For 'reasons', they progressively cut back the volcanic island's vigorous native palm forest. This shifted the local micro-climate to semi-arid, hampering re-growth. The settlers' pigs and inevitable rats destroyed saplings, seedlings. Eventually, all those palms were gone, gone, gone. This loss then set hard limits on the culture: No palm nuts, no palm leaves, no old-growth tree-trunks for sea-going proas and catamarans...
Was a planet's ice-age due shading by an orbital dust-ring ? Such could be variously resolved: Adding moonlets to mop up dust, ionising with electron beams to drive aggregation, even set a Rock Tug sweeping in 'Push-Me-Pull-You' mode.
As ice-caps were mostly white, with a very high albedo, they reflected much of the incoming solar radiation. So, even after clearing a shading dust-ring, they would endure. As would natural, 'Milankovitch Cycle' ice-caps. What to do ? Well, were there any semi-dormant, high latitude volcanoes ? Kicking such alive with supersonic kilo-tonne bolides would both dirty ice-caps across a vast swathe, significantly reducing their albedo, and usefully augment atmospheric 'green-house' carbon dioxide gas. Whacking sub-glacial 'volcanic fields' thus was a definite 'Twofer'. And, yes, would be a seriously wild spectacle...
Flip-side to an ice-age's too-narrow temperate zone was a global ocean. Think 'Chaparral' with deep swamps or Autumn's shallow seas instead of marsh: There'd be no mining of those essential trace minerals from sea-bed strata. And, with such Tepuis again the isolated reefs and low 'coral' islands they'd once been, again with the 'Easter Island' analogy...
Provided we found sufficient land for a secure 'dry-foot' base, there were technical 'fixes'. 'SeaCrete', the electrolytic deposition of carbonate 'coralline' rock, initially seemed to have wondrous prospects. There were plans to craft heroic aquatic habitats, even marine cities. The sad 'gotcha' was the process stopped working effectively long, long before such layers reached 'load bearing' per poured concrete.
But, and it was a wry 'but', the process was later found to work surprisingly well for 'artisanal' reef and beach remediation. Emplace electrodes, empower *intermittently*, such as with 'renewable' solar / wind power. This was essential to let fresh brine diffuse into the 'SeaCrete' lest electrodes 'starve', the bane of those mega-projects. Barren sandy sea-beds and storm-ripped 'reef passes' soon sprouted 'bollards'. Such 'boot-strap' natural reef formation and recovery, drawing fish. Shifting sand-bars and muddy banks ? Emplace an electrode web, again empower *intermittently* to 'bind' in place. Beside protecting inlets and small harbours from silting and bar migrations, this DIY reef could provide a useful 'speed bump' to mitigate erosive seas' storm waves.
Similar patient electro-deposition and electrolysis could also supply feed-stock for light-metal extraction and a modest chemical industry, thankfully without the need for vast salt-pans...
A mostly-ocean world could well be anoxic beyond what our introduced photo-synthetic bacteria were busily producing. Still, we could stabilise sand bars and mud banks, grow our 'beach-head'. A planet at the hotter end might be more of a problem. A spa-hot ocean was scary, though introduced oxygenating thermophiles should love it, mega-storms and all.
Of course, so much depended on water coverage. What if the planet was much, much dryer, so even cooler regions were arid or semi-desert ? Perhaps with only seasonal rivers, lakes and thunder-storms ? Consider Arabia, where travellers are still more at risk from flash-floods than sand-storms. Namib's seasonal rivers rarely reach the coast, usually sinking into their sandy beds. Australia has epic El-Nino / La Nina cycles, swinging from cruel, multi-year droughts to astonishing 'Wets'. Those visits to my parents studying that Tibesti Massif taught young me there really, really can be too much heat.
Still, provided there were regions with a water cycle of sorts, and a 'reasonably' accessible water table, we could probably manage. Down-side, to ease habs' 'climate control', we might have to 'dig in' per those 'well houses' of North Africa, the warrens of Cappadocia or the tunnel homes of 'Coober Peedy'. At the extreme, I would not care to rely on 'imported' water, or need to recycle as strictly as in space. There were far, far too many ways for a water-scarce society to become fixated, toxic.
Whatever, cold and/or low pressure would probably lead us towards Equatorial low-lands, while avoiding 'Katabatic Channels' or, worse, 'Cold Traps' such as the vast Yellowstone Caldera. Conversely, heat and/or high pressure would send us to higher latitudes and altitudes. Avoiding 'temperature inversion' basins was essential, lest persistent smog develop.
I knew no real planet would be as simple as these 'Edge Cases', but better to consider them now, rather than 'On the Fly' in a crazy rush...
If you cannot see the wood for the trees, deploy LIDAR.
-
jemhouston
- Posts: 5154
- Joined: Fri Nov 18, 2022 12:38 am
Re: 'City of Fresno'
It's almost enough to drive you to drink.
-
Belushi TD
- Posts: 1319
- Joined: Thu Nov 17, 2022 11:20 am
Re: 'City of Fresno'
Drive? I think it would be a short stroll.
Belushi TD
Belushi TD
-
jemhouston
- Posts: 5154
- Joined: Fri Nov 18, 2022 12:38 am
Re: 'City of Fresno'
I was refereeing to drinking, not the extremely short distance my mind is from sane to insane.
-
Nik_SpeakerToCats
- Posts: 1693
- Joined: Sat Dec 10, 2022 10:56 am
Re: 'City of Fresno'
As yet, Fresno lacks hi-carb crops fermentable unto 'cordial', never mind distilled to 'alcoholic'.
Given Coffea's craving for eg Boron, that drink will be strictly rationed until mineral supply secured.
Like it or not, there'll be a lot of 'herbal infusions' and coffee-substitutes in their immediate future..,
Given Coffea's craving for eg Boron, that drink will be strictly rationed until mineral supply secured.
Like it or not, there'll be a lot of 'herbal infusions' and coffee-substitutes in their immediate future..,
If you cannot see the wood for the trees, deploy LIDAR.
-
Nik_SpeakerToCats
- Posts: 1693
- Joined: Sat Dec 10, 2022 10:56 am
City of Fresno #80
City of Fresno #80
Even with Lt. Richards' terse 'Clean Air' directive in place, I still needed three more days to organise my first 'Hard Suit' familiarisation session. As the list of applicants was spread across Fresno Crew, both 'Berthing Drums' and three shifts, some juggling ensued. Meanwhile, the 'Community Room' did get used. I was told of a 'Dominos' club, a poetry circle, the beginnings of a 'Luthier / Music Maker' group, yoga sessions and several more.
Finally, belatedly, 'Big Mac' was in the 'Community Room'. I'd a dozen rapt students and the first session was off to a good start. Happily, those who'd 'met' the Engineers' simpler 'Hard Suits' or used air-suits appreciated the enhanced training material I'd patiently developed. Also, the group applauded my generous credits to the crews of 'Cwm Fahr' and 'Cooberra' for their essential input, and Anne-Marie for extensive editing advice.
Twenty minutes in, we heard raised voices outside. Then, despite the official 'Do Not Disturb' sign, rude banging on the door. The shrill top-line warned me who'd arrived.
I groaned. As the banging and shouting continued, I dialled the Community room's air-con to full, getting a whisper of over-pressure. This would protect against a little ingress as the door opened, but barely mitigate the pollution should 'Mater' Harris and her cult members crowd in. I cued both my Med-augments. One spun my pulse etc up towards 'Fight or Flight'. The other began pumping pheromone-specific anti-toxins into my blood-stream. I knew the metabolic price I'd pay for my urgent double-header. Still, push come to shove, this was gonna hurt 'Mater' Harris and her crew a lot worse than it hurt me.
I set my Comms-augment to 'record'. After it collected thirty indisputable seconds of shouting and banging, I spoke to my students, clinically cold. "Stay away from the door. Do not intervene unless to protect equipment or training materials. 'In Extremis', please use minimal force, inflict non-penetrating trauma. But, win."
This was a side of me they'd never seen, and it raised eye-brows. A few nodded, knowing I must be more than formidable Anne-Marie's clever 'Toy-Boy', but previously unsure what.
I took a succession of slow, deep breaths then, flipping the catch on the door-and-half's lock, snatched it open.
Two door-bangers almost fell in. The biggest members of her cult, albeit diminished by rationing and 'Mater' Harris' relentless 'tithing', they were un-prepared for my sudden appearance. I grabbed the nearer's out-held hand, twisted and pushed. Us 'Spacers' had strong grips. Off balance, wrist, elbow and shoulder joints torqued unkindly, he fell backwards with a yell, tangling the second rank.
The other door banger part-turned, his big hand swinging my way. His height 'advantage' betrayed. I ducked, parried his swing high. Though he was wide open to multiple 'war-shots', I just grabbed his shirt front, shoved him diagonally. He staggered. My careful foot tripped him. Flailing for balance, he toppled into his fellows, scattering them.
Which left 'Mater' Harris, stood alone amidst the strew. That jockey-small me had just cleared the door-way, that I'd floored her big point-men without hesitation or difficulty, did not seem to register. Instead, she shrieked, "You RAT ! It's your fault ! All your fault ! You blocked my room booking ! You--"
Despite my anti-toxins, both my Med-augments were warning of her pheromone fug. Enough was enough. I yelled, "GET OUT OF MY FACE !!"
This was so unexpected, her tirade faltered.
"In this room," I stated, clinically cold, "there is essential equipment with nigh-irreplaceable sensors.
"If you or your cult members contaminate them via 'Volatile Organic Compound' emission or carriage, you put the survival of 'City of Fresno' at risk."
"But--"
"Aboard which ship, you are currently a reluctant passenger." My lethal threat was clearly too subtle for her to grasp. I continued, "You have been told why restrictions are in place. They like-wise prohibit the 'Luthier / Music Maker' group varnishing or waxing instruments or components here.
"In fact, your pheromone fug may have sufficiently contaminated me to suspend this training session, defer for yet another week."
"Huh ??"
"Your afternoon booking stank out this room, blocked further use for three full days. Everything, from 'Folk Music', via a domino club, through poetry readings to yoga sessions had to be cancelled, re-scheduled.
"So, back away-- NOW !!" The cryogenic virulence in my voice forced her reluctant retreat. One pace, two. That was enough for the room's clean outflow to supplant her fug.
"Besides potentially clouding my students' wits, your pheromones could have terrible effects on 'Hard Suit' systems and sensors. This is not acceptable. Hence the 'VOC' restriction." I hesitated, added, "Which you seem determined to flaunt, setting your immediate gain above Fresno's survival."
'Mater' Harris just looked at me in evident confusion. Apparently she was unable to connect such 'cause' with 'effect'.
"I notice you and yours have still not completed the 'Skills' survey." I waved. "You deprive ship and community of essential information. Are you truly without skills beyond local cult administration ? Have you considered 'Food-Taster' ? The 'Diner' reverse-engineers will soon require such."
'Mater' Harris' mouth opened and closed like a beached fish. Sure, Anne-Marie had given her a serious 'reality check', but I surmised no-one had spoken to her this severely since she 'fell out' with her peers on Chaparral. Now those Med-augment alerts were thankfully subsiding, I noticed my Comms augment had flagged up a 'New Local Device'. It was, in fact, a third medical augment. It was certainly not mine...
Curious, I accessed it. To my astonishment and growing alarm, it clearly belonged to 'Mater' Harris. The 'User' account had her name, took either an eight-digit code, or a long, vocal password. Incantation ? Rhyme ? Not my scene...
The 'Admin' level, though, was wide open. These menu options were extensive, alarming. 'User' pheromone production could be throttled, suspended or terminated. 'User' access and usage variously restricted. The entire 'User' account edited, suspended or cleared. The 'User' could even be dosed to subdue volition, perhaps by order of a higher cult rank than 'Mater', or a quorum of exasperated peers. Perhaps why 'Mater' Harris had fled Chaparral ?
Beyond the status checks and 'refuelling' procedures, one menu option provided for 'Navel Ejection' of the entire device.
All of these options were currently un-protected, wide open...
I shivered. With a couple of virtual clicks, I could render her powerless, like church authorities 'de-frock' disgraced 'Pastors'. It was tempting. It was so tempting...
But, it would be grossly un-ethical.
I took a shaky breath, entered a temporary 'Admin' pass-word, 'qq12345'. Again to confirm, set.
'Re-booting', the device responded.
'Mater' Harris jumped, stared at me in horror, gasped, "What have you done ?"
"Your Med-augment had an open 'Admin' menu," I stated. "I've set a temporary password--"
"You RAT ! If you've interfered with--"
"Nu," I replied. "You'll have your stink-pot back in about thirty seconds when the re-boot completes. Un-changed 'User' settings."
"Huh ?"
"My changing those, limiting or closing your 'User' account would be un-ethical..." I gave her a long, hard look. "But any-one, any-one could have noticed your open device, totally pwned your system. You're so lucky to have got this far."
As horror grew on her face, I added, "Provided I can complete this training session without further interruption, I will promptly forward my temporary 'Admin' password to Fresno's Doctor Meredith. He will surely invite you for a detailed consultation, assess your circumstances, determine competence, decide on a course of action.
"His findings and any new, long-term 'Admin' password would be secured by rigorous medical confidentiality." I added, "Sadly, I must advise Doctor Meredith to temporarily suspend your 'User' account at least 72 hours before any consultation, to prevent any possibility or even suspicion of intended or accidental 'Undue Influence'.
"Please do not try to hack this temporary 'Admin' password: The device will log attempts. Should you succeed, and change it, you would be required to divulge to appropriate authorities. Refusal could see you confined for 'Contempt' while Fresno's computer does a 'dictionary' search. Those repeated attempts may form a 'Denial of Service Attack' for your 'User' account.
"Of course, Fresno's authorities may simply consider such flagrant 'Contempt' as sufficient grounds for surgical excision. I doubt they would offer much sympathy for subsequent distress as you and yours go 'Cold Turkey'..."
Behind stricken 'Mater' Harris, her Deputy and Acolytes were staring as if I'd sprouted a fanged head, clawed wings and forked tail, was snorting fire. The two who'd been body-checking steward Ms. Lindstrom had backed away, were clearly re-assessing life choices.
"Do we understand each other ?" I needed this 'On the Record'.
Finally, after a long, long silence, she dipped her head, nodded, admitted, "Yes..."
"Thank you," I replied. "Now, go away: I have a essential training session to run..."
Even with Lt. Richards' terse 'Clean Air' directive in place, I still needed three more days to organise my first 'Hard Suit' familiarisation session. As the list of applicants was spread across Fresno Crew, both 'Berthing Drums' and three shifts, some juggling ensued. Meanwhile, the 'Community Room' did get used. I was told of a 'Dominos' club, a poetry circle, the beginnings of a 'Luthier / Music Maker' group, yoga sessions and several more.
Finally, belatedly, 'Big Mac' was in the 'Community Room'. I'd a dozen rapt students and the first session was off to a good start. Happily, those who'd 'met' the Engineers' simpler 'Hard Suits' or used air-suits appreciated the enhanced training material I'd patiently developed. Also, the group applauded my generous credits to the crews of 'Cwm Fahr' and 'Cooberra' for their essential input, and Anne-Marie for extensive editing advice.
Twenty minutes in, we heard raised voices outside. Then, despite the official 'Do Not Disturb' sign, rude banging on the door. The shrill top-line warned me who'd arrived.
I groaned. As the banging and shouting continued, I dialled the Community room's air-con to full, getting a whisper of over-pressure. This would protect against a little ingress as the door opened, but barely mitigate the pollution should 'Mater' Harris and her cult members crowd in. I cued both my Med-augments. One spun my pulse etc up towards 'Fight or Flight'. The other began pumping pheromone-specific anti-toxins into my blood-stream. I knew the metabolic price I'd pay for my urgent double-header. Still, push come to shove, this was gonna hurt 'Mater' Harris and her crew a lot worse than it hurt me.
I set my Comms-augment to 'record'. After it collected thirty indisputable seconds of shouting and banging, I spoke to my students, clinically cold. "Stay away from the door. Do not intervene unless to protect equipment or training materials. 'In Extremis', please use minimal force, inflict non-penetrating trauma. But, win."
This was a side of me they'd never seen, and it raised eye-brows. A few nodded, knowing I must be more than formidable Anne-Marie's clever 'Toy-Boy', but previously unsure what.
I took a succession of slow, deep breaths then, flipping the catch on the door-and-half's lock, snatched it open.
Two door-bangers almost fell in. The biggest members of her cult, albeit diminished by rationing and 'Mater' Harris' relentless 'tithing', they were un-prepared for my sudden appearance. I grabbed the nearer's out-held hand, twisted and pushed. Us 'Spacers' had strong grips. Off balance, wrist, elbow and shoulder joints torqued unkindly, he fell backwards with a yell, tangling the second rank.
The other door banger part-turned, his big hand swinging my way. His height 'advantage' betrayed. I ducked, parried his swing high. Though he was wide open to multiple 'war-shots', I just grabbed his shirt front, shoved him diagonally. He staggered. My careful foot tripped him. Flailing for balance, he toppled into his fellows, scattering them.
Which left 'Mater' Harris, stood alone amidst the strew. That jockey-small me had just cleared the door-way, that I'd floored her big point-men without hesitation or difficulty, did not seem to register. Instead, she shrieked, "You RAT ! It's your fault ! All your fault ! You blocked my room booking ! You--"
Despite my anti-toxins, both my Med-augments were warning of her pheromone fug. Enough was enough. I yelled, "GET OUT OF MY FACE !!"
This was so unexpected, her tirade faltered.
"In this room," I stated, clinically cold, "there is essential equipment with nigh-irreplaceable sensors.
"If you or your cult members contaminate them via 'Volatile Organic Compound' emission or carriage, you put the survival of 'City of Fresno' at risk."
"But--"
"Aboard which ship, you are currently a reluctant passenger." My lethal threat was clearly too subtle for her to grasp. I continued, "You have been told why restrictions are in place. They like-wise prohibit the 'Luthier / Music Maker' group varnishing or waxing instruments or components here.
"In fact, your pheromone fug may have sufficiently contaminated me to suspend this training session, defer for yet another week."
"Huh ??"
"Your afternoon booking stank out this room, blocked further use for three full days. Everything, from 'Folk Music', via a domino club, through poetry readings to yoga sessions had to be cancelled, re-scheduled.
"So, back away-- NOW !!" The cryogenic virulence in my voice forced her reluctant retreat. One pace, two. That was enough for the room's clean outflow to supplant her fug.
"Besides potentially clouding my students' wits, your pheromones could have terrible effects on 'Hard Suit' systems and sensors. This is not acceptable. Hence the 'VOC' restriction." I hesitated, added, "Which you seem determined to flaunt, setting your immediate gain above Fresno's survival."
'Mater' Harris just looked at me in evident confusion. Apparently she was unable to connect such 'cause' with 'effect'.
"I notice you and yours have still not completed the 'Skills' survey." I waved. "You deprive ship and community of essential information. Are you truly without skills beyond local cult administration ? Have you considered 'Food-Taster' ? The 'Diner' reverse-engineers will soon require such."
'Mater' Harris' mouth opened and closed like a beached fish. Sure, Anne-Marie had given her a serious 'reality check', but I surmised no-one had spoken to her this severely since she 'fell out' with her peers on Chaparral. Now those Med-augment alerts were thankfully subsiding, I noticed my Comms augment had flagged up a 'New Local Device'. It was, in fact, a third medical augment. It was certainly not mine...
Curious, I accessed it. To my astonishment and growing alarm, it clearly belonged to 'Mater' Harris. The 'User' account had her name, took either an eight-digit code, or a long, vocal password. Incantation ? Rhyme ? Not my scene...
The 'Admin' level, though, was wide open. These menu options were extensive, alarming. 'User' pheromone production could be throttled, suspended or terminated. 'User' access and usage variously restricted. The entire 'User' account edited, suspended or cleared. The 'User' could even be dosed to subdue volition, perhaps by order of a higher cult rank than 'Mater', or a quorum of exasperated peers. Perhaps why 'Mater' Harris had fled Chaparral ?
Beyond the status checks and 'refuelling' procedures, one menu option provided for 'Navel Ejection' of the entire device.
All of these options were currently un-protected, wide open...
I shivered. With a couple of virtual clicks, I could render her powerless, like church authorities 'de-frock' disgraced 'Pastors'. It was tempting. It was so tempting...
But, it would be grossly un-ethical.
I took a shaky breath, entered a temporary 'Admin' pass-word, 'qq12345'. Again to confirm, set.
'Re-booting', the device responded.
'Mater' Harris jumped, stared at me in horror, gasped, "What have you done ?"
"Your Med-augment had an open 'Admin' menu," I stated. "I've set a temporary password--"
"You RAT ! If you've interfered with--"
"Nu," I replied. "You'll have your stink-pot back in about thirty seconds when the re-boot completes. Un-changed 'User' settings."
"Huh ?"
"My changing those, limiting or closing your 'User' account would be un-ethical..." I gave her a long, hard look. "But any-one, any-one could have noticed your open device, totally pwned your system. You're so lucky to have got this far."
As horror grew on her face, I added, "Provided I can complete this training session without further interruption, I will promptly forward my temporary 'Admin' password to Fresno's Doctor Meredith. He will surely invite you for a detailed consultation, assess your circumstances, determine competence, decide on a course of action.
"His findings and any new, long-term 'Admin' password would be secured by rigorous medical confidentiality." I added, "Sadly, I must advise Doctor Meredith to temporarily suspend your 'User' account at least 72 hours before any consultation, to prevent any possibility or even suspicion of intended or accidental 'Undue Influence'.
"Please do not try to hack this temporary 'Admin' password: The device will log attempts. Should you succeed, and change it, you would be required to divulge to appropriate authorities. Refusal could see you confined for 'Contempt' while Fresno's computer does a 'dictionary' search. Those repeated attempts may form a 'Denial of Service Attack' for your 'User' account.
"Of course, Fresno's authorities may simply consider such flagrant 'Contempt' as sufficient grounds for surgical excision. I doubt they would offer much sympathy for subsequent distress as you and yours go 'Cold Turkey'..."
Behind stricken 'Mater' Harris, her Deputy and Acolytes were staring as if I'd sprouted a fanged head, clawed wings and forked tail, was snorting fire. The two who'd been body-checking steward Ms. Lindstrom had backed away, were clearly re-assessing life choices.
"Do we understand each other ?" I needed this 'On the Record'.
Finally, after a long, long silence, she dipped her head, nodded, admitted, "Yes..."
"Thank you," I replied. "Now, go away: I have a essential training session to run..."
If you cannot see the wood for the trees, deploy LIDAR.
-
jemhouston
- Posts: 5154
- Joined: Fri Nov 18, 2022 12:38 am
Re: 'City of Fresno'
One way to wham someone upside the head without hitting them.
Still, she'll need to go cold turkey sooner rather than later.
Still, she'll need to go cold turkey sooner rather than later.
-
Nik_SpeakerToCats
- Posts: 1693
- Joined: Sat Dec 10, 2022 10:56 am
Re: 'City of Fresno'
That 'Admin' menu provides for progressive 'throttling', enforcing a gradual wind-down of pheromone production, easing the addiction re-hab.
But, 'Mater' Harris now knows that, unless she 'Plays Nice', her augment could be shut-off completely, snickety-snick, with unpredictable but surely unpleasant consequences.
Plus, given her and the cult members' behaviour, they'll get scant sympathy, triage probably denying them mitigating medication.
But, 'Mater' Harris now knows that, unless she 'Plays Nice', her augment could be shut-off completely, snickety-snick, with unpredictable but surely unpleasant consequences.
Plus, given her and the cult members' behaviour, they'll get scant sympathy, triage probably denying them mitigating medication.
If you cannot see the wood for the trees, deploy LIDAR.
-
jemhouston
- Posts: 5154
- Joined: Fri Nov 18, 2022 12:38 am
Re: 'City of Fresno'
Is there any mitigating medication onboard?Nik_SpeakerToCats wrote: ↑Mon Dec 23, 2024 5:09 pm That 'Admin' menu provides for progressive 'throttling', enforcing a gradual wind-down of pheromone production, easing the addiction re-hab.
But, 'Mater' Harris now knows that, unless she 'Plays Nice', her augment could be shut-off completely, snickety-snick, with unpredictable but surely unpleasant consequences.
Plus, given her and the cult members' behaviour, they'll get scant sympathy, triage probably denying them mitigating medication.