Scifi Writing - Tumblr Posts
An alien desires to 'court' another alien, of the race called humans. The human is desirable in every way: talented in multiple skills, professional and domestic, with soft, squishy flesh and an eagerness to learn - the alien could go on and on, but people complain when the alien talks about their 'crush', as other humans call it
The problem is, the alien's species relies on scents and pheromones for communication. Their first meeting with the human was during a crisis, and their natural scent was strong, sweat mixing with that fabled human instinct to survive with all members of their extended pack alive, too. No other human smelled quite like this one. It sent the alien's hearts a-flutter, and shivers through their many wings.
But now? The human smells different, and not in a normal human way. One week, citrus and palm fruits from the black jungles of the planet Cerib. Another week, exotic vanilla from their origin planet, with something warm and spicy the alien can't place. Lavender and honey from Blackcurrant bees. Something juicy like apples. Something this, something that, and they're all beautiful scents - but it's not the human's scent, and they can't really smell their emotions through it. Frustrating.
One day, the alien sulks, watching their desired one rush past, tablet in hand. They smell like sweetened coffee and chocolate - the latter a romantic treat to humans, and a reminder of how far they are from that romance to the alien. The human next to them breathes in the scent, and smiles.
"Man, (name's) got some great perfume on today," they say.
The alien lifts their head. "Perfume?"
A little research later, and things suddenly make sense. They'd heard about perfume before, the human wasn't the only one to wear scents, but they'd been so lovelorn they hadn't used their brain. But that wasn't important. What mattered was that humans used perfume and similar products to draw in desired partners.
Two can play at that game.
Three days later, the alien walks in to their normal location. To their surprise, the human their hearts are set on rushes towards them, calling their name.
"I'm so sorry!" They apologize. They aren't wearing any scents today. "I didn't realize my perfume might be messing with your senses. I've switched it out with another type that you'll find easier to deal with. I was just trying to..."
They trail off. The alien waits, hopeful. A new scent spikes from the human.
"Is that... Cinnamon?"
"With a little bit of Ophelion flower, and Soljoiner lemon," the alien says, smiling like the humans do. "I got inspired by your choices."
A hesitation. "Do you like it?"
The human breathes in deep. From them, now the alien can sense what they've wanted. Interest.
"You smell amazing," the human says. The glow in their eyes as they look at the alien, well, the alien adds that to their list of all the reasons they want the human as a partner.
"Are you sure you know what you're getting into?" Another alien says later, at the communal garden. "Humans are hardcore."
The alien looks across the way to the human of their hearts. They are smiling, they smell a bit like the alien now, from their hug.
"For that one? It's worth it."
You know what?
I’m no longer holding Star Trek or Star Wars “accountable” for their clunky-looking sixties-and-seventies future technology.
Why?
Because the Enterprise is off on a years-long voyage through space. There’s no Verizon store, no Radio Shack, no Geek Squad out there. If the Klingons fire photon torpedoes and the bridge shakes and Spock’s head bangs against the fancy iPad72 touchscreen and cracks the glass, the ship’s toast. If Han Solo’s fingerprints get all over the starchart and the touch-calibration is off by half a centimeter, the Falcon is going right into a star. But if Mister Worf accidentally twists the command knob too hard and pops it off, he can just screw that thing right back on and it will keep working. Dust gets in there? Take it apart and clean it out. All the plugs are big and universal, all the power cells are functional and have a decent battery life, and nothing is built to expire in the next six months so you have to buy a new one.
That tech isn’t anachronistic or suffering a bad case of Zeerust–it’s practical, effective, and it works. Apple tried launching its own space exploration craft, it had to come back for full repairs within three months, and then it had to be upgraded over the next two.
But this? This is just good, long-lasting, fully-functional, and reliable craftsmanship.
It's Mrsko- Mirsko. My bad✨
Did his design real quick as a form of warm up and it didn't turn out too bad! Definitely didn't look so promising when I just started coloring him lol. The armor is heavily inspired by Set's armor in "Gods of Egypt" 👌 grrrr-
Ignore my hand writing there.
And in case you don't know, Mirsko is one of the characters in my story that I just started! You can find the first chapter in my Masterlist, it's pinned on my profile 👀 I will upload his design onto Toyhouse too, after I post chapter ||.
An alien desires to 'court' another alien, of the race called humans. The human is desirable in every way: talented in multiple skills, professional and domestic, with soft, squishy flesh and an eagerness to learn - the alien could go on and on, but people complain when the alien talks about their 'crush', as other humans call it
The problem is, the alien's species relies on scents and pheromones for communication. Their first meeting with the human was during a crisis, and their natural scent was strong, sweat mixing with that fabled human instinct to survive with all members of their extended pack alive, too. No other human smelled quite like this one. It sent the alien's hearts a-flutter, and shivers through their many wings.
But now? The human smells different, and not in a normal human way. One week, citrus and palm fruits from the black jungles of the planet Cerib. Another week, exotic vanilla from their origin planet, with something warm and spicy the alien can't place. Lavender and honey from Blackcurrant bees. Something juicy like apples. Something this, something that, and they're all beautiful scents - but it's not the human's scent, and they can't really smell their emotions through it. Frustrating.
One day, the alien sulks, watching their desired one rush past, tablet in hand. They smell like sweetened coffee and chocolate - the latter a romantic treat to humans, and a reminder of how far they are from that romance to the alien. The human next to them breathes in the scent, and smiles.
"Man, (name's) got some great perfume on today," they say.
The alien lifts their head. "Perfume?"
A little research later, and things suddenly make sense. They'd heard about perfume before, the human wasn't the only one to wear scents, but they'd been so lovelorn they hadn't used their brain. But that wasn't important. What mattered was that humans used perfume and similar products to draw in desired partners.
Two can play at that game.
Three days later, the alien walks in to their normal location. To their surprise, the human their hearts are set on rushes towards them, calling their name.
"I'm so sorry!" They apologize. They aren't wearing any scents today. "I didn't realize my perfume might be messing with your senses. I've switched it out with another type that you'll find easier to deal with. I was just trying to..."
They trail off. The alien waits, hopeful. A new scent spikes from the human.
"Is that... Cinnamon?"
"With a little bit of Ophelion flower, and Soljoiner lemon," the alien says, smiling like the humans do. "I got inspired by your choices."
A hesitation. "Do you like it?"
The human breathes in deep. From them, now the alien can sense what they've wanted. Interest.
"You smell amazing," the human says. The glow in their eyes as they look at the alien, well, the alien adds that to their list of all the reasons they want the human as a partner.
"Are you sure you know what you're getting into?" Another alien says later, at the communal garden. "Humans are hardcore."
The alien looks across the way to the human of their hearts. They are smiling, they smell a bit like the alien now, from their hug.
"For that one? It's worth it."
TW: Sibling death
--
Sable ignored the tugging on her arm. She ignored the muffled, staticy voice telling her they have to go. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered except the shell laying in front of her.
The empty husk of the one she once held close. The bare, expressionless face and the lightless eyes that once held a vibrant gold glow. The small line of oil dripping from the frameless casing's mouth that had stained the dusky purple paint.
Her twin. Her dear, sweet twin. The one who knew her best. The only one Sable had called her packmate since coming online. Her beloved twin, her other half, was caught by a Husker.
The voice speaking to her became clearer as the shock wore off. So did Sable's grief.
"Sable, we have to go!" Lyra continued to tug on Sable's arm, trying to get her away from the shell of their packmate.
Sable stared at Maura's husk for a few more moments before wrenching her arm out of Lyra's grasp.
"No..." the lone twin muttered. "We're not leaving."
"I know you don't want to leave her, but it's not safe here," Lyra tried to reason. "I know you love her, but sitting here waiting for a Husker to find us isn't going to bring her back."
"...I can't leave her..." Sable once again muttered more to herself than to her last living packmate.
Lyra drew back from Sable. She just said I. She just said I.
"Sable..?" The red, imp-like android places a clawed hand on Sable's shoulder.
"We were one." The dusky-colored drone sits down on her knees in front of her identical husk. "And now we are none."
--
Wip of a story I might write at some point. For background, Sable and Maura were twin androids who had interlinked code, causing them to say things like "our favorite color" or "we're tired" instead of my or I.
An interesting sci-fi short story from 4chan.
[Imgur]
Space, for writers who can’t be bothered
Space. The final frontier. The inky abyss. The great void. The black. The Big Nothing. What a fantastic playground of opportunity, especially for writers. However, even space has rules.
It's time to clarify some things about space. Too many times I have seen astronomical terms thrown about carelessly in media with no regard for their specific meanings, or space depicted as some fantastical realm where everything is possible.
It’s not.
We’ve spent hundreds of years figuring out how the heavens work, so the least you could do is a bit of googling to make sure that word means what you think it means. I know many writers of space-based fiction are, in fact, space geeks and do respect the laws of physics and the terminology laid forth by experts, and I thank you for that! But for others, here’s a crash course in the fundamentals of space and a few side notes to clear up common misconceptions.
Even if you’re a space-fantasy writer who likes to handwave physics, it’s important to understand what you’re ignoring and what that means for the rest of your world (because physics is an interdependent system- if one thing breaks, everything changes.)
Fundamental Terms
Planet
A planet is a roughly spherical object that does not experience sustained atomic fusion, and usually orbits a star (or, if it’s lucky, more than one star). They are very large compared to humans, and almost never have one single biome. Planets are only spherical, because gravity acts evenly in all directions. Any solid object large enough to be a planet will be spherical, unless engineered otherwise. Engineering otherwise is dangerous, difficult, and not highly recommended. Any irregularly shaped natural object is not a planet, and likely will not have an atmosphere either. Most often these are asteroids or comets.
Asteroid vs Comet
The line between asteroid and comet is fuzzy, yes, but there is a distinct difference. Asteroids are composed of rock and/or metals and do not sublimate (evaporate directly from solid to gas). Comets are composed of ice and maybe some rock, and definitely sublimate. Comets have tails of gas because of this. Bonus misconception factoid: Asteroid and comet fields aren’t even close to crowded, in human scale terms. Objects in the solar asteroid belt are almost always several million kilometers from the other objects, because of Rule 1, and thanks to their relatively small sizes, they’d look like dots at best when viewed from each other’s vicinities.
Star
A star is a large spherical object made of ionized gas that does experience sustained atomic fusion, and that’s why they glow. Stars are best summarized as giant slow-motion nuclear fireballs. They emit energy in the form of radiation, a small slice of which we can see as visible light. A star’s color is strictly dependent on temperature, ranging from red (cool) to blue (super hot) with orange (less cool), yellow (medium), and white-ish (sort of hot) in between. They have very strong magnetic fields, and occasionally small bits of them will violently drift off into space (that is a flare). The terms “star” and “sun” are basically synonymous, but if you want to be nuanced about it, a sun is a star that has planets.
Stellar Death and Supernovae
The death of a star is not fast. It is very, very slow. The star Betelgeuse in the constellation of Orion has been dying (in its red giant phase) for several million years, and isn’t anticipated to explode in its supernova phase for another several thousand. Supernovas themselves are not instantaneous, either; while the inciting core collapse takes just one-fourth of a second, the resulting internal shockwave will take hours to actually break the surface. The expansion of the shockwave takes months. As a dramatic device in storytelling, real supernovae are only useful when you work on extended timescales.
Star system
Star systems are composed of a central star or multiple stars orbiting each other, and occasionally they have planets. Typically, star systems do not exceed more than a lightyear or two in diameter, though complex systems close to galactic centers or in star clusters may have lightyear diameters in the double digits. A good rule of thumb is that the higher the number of stars in a system, the less likely it is to have planets. This is because the gravity interactions will be insanely complicated and the probability of stable orbits is low in complex systems. However, for systems with planets, almost all orbits will be aligned to a single plane, called the ecliptic. Additionally, almost all objects in a system will orbit and spin in the same direction, because the angular momentum from the system’s formation is preserved in its current state. Star systems also tend to be rather spaced out from each other (refer to Rule 1.) The terms “solar system” and “star system” are basically synonymous.
Star cluster
Star clusters are groups of stars numbering between the tens and the thousands that are all loosely bound to each other by their mutual gravity. Stars are generally closer to each other within star clusters than in broader galactic space, which allows radiation to accumulate instead of dissipating in open space. Star clusters typically aren’t very nice places to live if you’re allergic to ionizing radiation (which, incidentally, carbon-based life very much is.)
Galaxy
Galaxies are immense collections of star systems and nebulae, bound together by the combined mutual gravity of every object within them. Small galaxies are composed of hundreds of thousands of star systems, while larger galaxies are composed of billions or even trillions of star systems. Astronomers estimate that the Milky Way, the galaxy in which our star system lies, is composed of three or four hundred billion star systems. Earth’s star system orbits the Milky Way’s center of gravity, the galactic core, at a distance of about 25000 lightyears; just a quarter of the Milky Way galaxy’s estimated total diameter.
Star system vs Galaxy
“Galaxy” and “star system” are not synonymous, not even technically. The scale difference alone should be enough to help differentiate, but it’s also worth restating the nested relationship between the two: galaxies are composed of billions of star systems. Similarly, “intergalactic” and “interstellar” are not synonymous either. “Interstellar” means “between or among star systems.” “Intergalactic,” therefore, means “between or among galaxies.” And as you will see in the next section, the difference is very significant.
Rules
Rule 1: Space is big.
Just absurdly, incomprehensibly, brain-meltingly big. The technical term for it is humungous, or if you want to get really fancy, fuck-off huge. This is why distances between stars are measured in length units equal to the distance that light, the fastest thing in the universe (Rule 2), travels in one metric year. Light may be fast, but space is more than vast enough to make photons into snails.
Planets orbiting within the same star system may be close in the cosmic sense, but on the human scale, they tend to be dishearteningly distant. When the orbits of Earth and Mars bring them closest together (a phenomenon called opposition), they are still 54 million kilometers apart. Radio signals sent between Earth and Mars at opposition have a travel time of about three minutes. At their most separated (401 million kilometers), a signal from Earth would reach Mars in 22 and a half minutes… if the sun wasn’t in the way. Which it is, because it’s the centerpoint of the aforementioned ecliptic plane.
Star systems, as mentioned before, tend to be even more remote from each other. The closest star system to our own, the triple-star system Alpha Centauri, is roughly 4.35 lightyears away. It takes light a good four years and four months or so to get from Alpha Centauri to Earth, but it would take current propulsion technology eons longer to make the trip. The closest known black hole to our star system is 6070 lightyears away in the constellation of Cygnus, which means the radiation we observe from the plasma orbiting it was first flung in our direction right about when Eastern Europe figured out what metal was.
The distance between galaxies is even more vast, and far emptier. The starless abyss between the outskirts of the Andromeda galaxy, the closest major spiral galaxy, and the edge of the Milky Way, our home galaxy, is two and a half million lightyears. The image of the Andromeda galaxy we see when we look at it now is composed of light that left the actual Andromeda galaxy right when our dear Australopithecus ancestors first decided that walking upright was pretty neat.
It’s also worth noting that planets, too, are rather colossal. Even dwarf planets are large in human terms, with the smallest known dwarf planet (Ceres) having a surface area of 2.7 million square kilometers. The entire country of Kazakhstan, population 18 million, is 2.7 million square kilometers. Argentina is roughly the same size, and has a population of just under 45 million. Planet Earth has a surface area of 510 million square kilometers and a population of seven and a half billion, even though over half of the surface is uninhabitable because it’s just liquid water.
When the fate of the world is in the balance, it almost always comes down to one location on the planet’s surface. This is unbelievably illogical. Realistically, planetary-scale warfare would be composed of innumerable smaller conflicts, with no single battle being the sole influence of the war’s tide. The concept of real planetary warfare is horrifying in its vastness, even if planets themselves are relative dust specks in an infinite void.
In short, space is big, and so are the things within it.
Rule 2: Light is the fastest thing in the universe.
The speed of light is just under 300 million meters per second, or just over 670 million miles per hour. Only particles that don’t have mass can move at that speed, because the amount of energy needed to accelerate an object with mass to the speed of light is infinite. In order for something to move faster than the speed of light in real space, it would actually have to have negative mass, which is theoretically impossible for any number of reasons. Please don’t mess with tachyons unless you want all of physics to break.
If you absolutely must get somewhere before a photon does, don’t try to outright break the speed limit. You literally cannot. Instead, try working around it. Make a wormhole, bend space to amplify your speed, move the universe around you, or even take the scenic route through some other dimension we haven’t quite found yet. Breaking the light barrier just won’t work.
Rule 3: Everything in the universe is moving.
If you were to somehow figure out how to entirely stop moving through space, to attain a true velocity of zero relative to an absolutely fixed point in space, it would seem that everything else in the universe just started zipping about at mortifying speeds. This is because the amount of energy in the universe is finite, energy is conserved within matter, and the Big Bang at the start of time had a hell of a lot of energy to dish out. All of this comes to the takeaway that nothing is stationary, ever. Planets move around their stars, stars move around within their galaxies, galaxies move around each other. They all do this dance because of Rule 4.
Rule 4: Gravity is the conductor of the space motion ballet.
Sure you have rocket engines making thrust, and photons carry momentum (that subject is a whole separate lecture), but the ultimate arbiter of motion, even at the speed of light, is gravity. For reasons we still don’t quite understand, objects make dents in three-dimensional spacetime, and these dents affect the way that other objects move. This is why black holes exist, but their name is misleading. Black holes are not two-dimensional holes in space, not even close. They’re so much cooler than that.
Black holes are three-dimensional, spherical objects that are dense enough to bend space to the point where even photons aren’t moving fast enough to escape their gravity. Light moving in the vicinity of black holes is forced to travel in extremely distorted paths, and some may stray too close to the event horizon. The event horizon of a black hole is a sphere-shaped theoretical boundary where the speed an object needs in order to escape the gravitational pull of the black hole is equal to the speed of light.
Rule 5: Inertia can and will liquefy you.
Inertia is the property of objects to resist changing the way they are moving through space. Yes, yes, high school physics, Newton ruined everything for everyone, etc. The difference between moving about on a planet and moving in outer space is that friction does not exist in a vacuum. This is both a blessing and a curse.
Because of Rule 1 (space is big), actually getting anywhere in the cosmos within a reasonable timeframe requires moving at absolutely blistering speeds. Here is where inertia becomes the double edged sword: because there is no friction in a vacuum, getting to the speed you want is no longer a big problem, while slowing down or banking to starboard suddenly is. You can no longer rely on the ground or the atmosphere to do the work for you, which means you spend more energy maneuvering. Another fresh problem is the rate at which you adjust your motion, because humans are fragile meat gundams and inertia is a bitch.
When considering how fast you want something to move, consider first if it has humans (or other lifeforms) on or in it. This will influence how quickly the thing can accelerate, and thus the time it will take for your chosen something to reach the desired speed. Comfortably, humans can accelerate at about ten meters per second squared indefinitely, because this is the gravitational pull of Earth on the surface. Accelerating twice as fast for just as long is a little uncomfortable, but most people would survive it. Any more than fifty meters per second squared of sustained acceleration is pushing it, and 100 meters per second squared is generally the upper limit for acceleration longer than half a minute or so. Please also keep in mind that this also applies to slowing down, as mentioned previously.
Rule 6: Relativity exists, but you can ignore it if you’re sneaky.
More high school physics! This time, Einstein ruins everything by stating that time and space are the same thing, and that Greenwich Mean Time can’t be applied to the whole universe at once. This is founded on Rule 2 (light is the Speediest Gonzalez), and Einstein insisted this rule implies that time is not constant everywhere because humans have a defined frame of reference. However, if you get clever with rule 2, this rule is effectively null and void.
By traveling to a distant point in the universe in a way that’s not technically faster than light but gets you there anyways, you may see yourself leave your point of origin, but that doesn’t change the fact that you already left. It’s just a side effect of you beating an eyeful of photons in a vanity race. Bonus points if you have some sort of instant communication device with which to sync your watches to GMT back home, because that’ll really give ol’ Albert the middle finger.
To Summarize:
Google the terms you use to make sure you’re using them right, or just read this guide
Space has a few universal rules that can’t be responsibly ignored, which are as follows:
Space is big
Light is the fastest thing in existence but also space is big
Everything is moving all the time, through space, which is big
Gravity is why these things move since it’s the only force that acts on a large enough scale to do so, because space is big
Inertia sucks because space is big, but that’s okay because space is big
Relativity also sucks but you can ignore it if you get clever with Rule 2 because space is big
wrote a teaser prologue thingy for a Hyperlanes campaign I want to run, called Orion’s Echo. possibly more parts to come!
Captain's Log // Pathfinder Telamon // 20.5.5240 // 05:15 Fleet Standard Time
[several seconds of silence]
(quietly) ... I never know how to begin these things, even after twenty years of recording them.
(normal volume) This is Commander Akair Vayth of the Pathfinder Telamon, Argo-class capital ship for the Pathfinder Initiative expedition into the Trapezium Cluster. We're currently docked in Palladion Skyharbor, and preparations to leave Athenian orbit are nearly complete. We're scheduled to launch at 0600, bound for 45 Orionis. Our plan is to take the jumpgate routes to Rigel to resupply, then make the jump to Alnilam. From there, we're on our own as we fly into unknown territory.
[beat]
Our fleet is twelve ships strong: the Telamon herself, a support carrier and the capital ship; four Asterion-class exploration frigates, the Archimedes, Pythagoras, Aristarchus, and Eratosthenes; four Hephaestion-class industrial frigates, the Prometheus, Brontes, Arges, and Steropes; two Heraklion-class support frigates, the Balius and Xanthus; and an Asclepion-class medical support corvette, the Dione. I'll admit, when the commission proposed a mere twelve ships for an expedition of such long duration, I was quite skeptical, but in composing the fleet I've grown confident in the crew's capability.
[beat]
Still... I worry. We're going further into the Orion Nebula than anyone ever has, and we don't know what lurks in the dark between the stars. Previous expeditions in the Clouds have described unusual readings from the Trapezium Cluster, hinting at... well, we're not sure. It could be a black hole. Could be a high-arity pulsar, or an exotic star. Or something... organic.
[beat]
I'm overthinking this, I'm sure. We're just going to chart the cluster, gauge its habitability, and set up a jumpgate if possible. But in any case, I'm needed on the bridge again. Commander Vayth, signing off.
[log terminates]
Captain's Log // Pathfinder Telamon // 24.06.5240 // 18:12 Fleet Standard Time
This is Commander Vayth of the Pathfinder Telamon. We are well into day 36 of our voyage, and currently docked with Godalhi Platform A in the Alnilam system for our final resupply. Tomorrow morning, we venture forth into parts unknown. Preparations are almost complete.
[beat]
The crew generally seems to be in high spirits, though anyone can see the apprehension just beneath their cheerful demeanor. I can't say I blame them; I'm just as nervous. Our advance scouts have reported unusual instrument malfunctions, and have confirmed the existence of those unsettling... I suppose the best word for them at the moment would be signals.
[beat]
(quieter)
Most of the crew doesn't know this, but Captain Zuvan of the Aristarchus has had tests run on the signal and they're convinced it's of intelligent origin. They've had no luck on deciphering it yet, but I'm sure they can figure it out. I just hope... (sigh) I don't even know. I hope it's nothing to worry about.
[beat]
I've always harbored a certain fondness -romance, even- for exploring. The unknown has never scared me before. But there's something about this expedition, and our destination, that leaves moths in my gut.
[beat]
I hope I'm wrong.
[beat]
Commander Vayth, signing off.
[log terminates]
wrote a teaser prologue thingy for a Hyperlanes campaign I want to run, called Orion’s Echo. possibly more parts to come!
Captain's Log // Pathfinder Telamon // 20.5.5240 // 05:15 Fleet Standard Time
[several seconds of silence]
(quietly) ... I never know how to begin these things, even after twenty years of recording them.
(normal volume) This is Commander Akair Vayth of the Pathfinder Telamon, Argo-class capital ship for the Pathfinder Initiative expedition into the Trapezium Cluster. We're currently docked in Palladion Skyharbor, and preparations to leave Athenian orbit are nearly complete. We're scheduled to launch at 0600, bound for 45 Orionis. Our plan is to take the jumpgate routes to Rigel to resupply, then make the jump to Alnilam. From there, we're on our own as we fly into unknown territory.
[beat]
Our fleet is twelve ships strong: the Telamon herself, a support carrier and the capital ship; four Asterion-class exploration frigates, the Archimedes, Pythagoras, Aristarchus, and Eratosthenes; four Hephaestion-class industrial frigates, the Prometheus, Brontes, Arges, and Steropes; two Heraklion-class support frigates, the Balius and Xanthus; and an Asclepion-class medical support corvette, the Dione. I'll admit, when the commission proposed a mere twelve ships for an expedition of such long duration, I was quite skeptical, but in composing the fleet I've grown confident in the crew's capability.
[beat]
Still... I worry. We're going further into the Orion Nebula than anyone ever has, and we don't know what lurks in the dark between the stars. Previous expeditions in the Clouds have described unusual readings from the Trapezium Cluster, hinting at... well, we're not sure. It could be a black hole. Could be a high-arity pulsar, or an exotic star. Or something... organic.
[beat]
I'm overthinking this, I'm sure. We're just going to chart the cluster, gauge its habitability, and set up a jumpgate if possible. But in any case, I'm needed on the bridge again. Commander Vayth, signing off.
[log terminates]
Captain's Log // Pathfinder Telamon // 06.11.5242 // 02:12 Fleet Standard Time
This is Commander Vayth of the Pathfinder Telamon. We’ve recently ticked over into day 900 of our voyage, and we are approaching the center of the Trapezium Cluster. As I mentioned in my log on day 648, our scientific complement verified the long-standing idea of a central black hole within the cluster, and it has been the focus of our telescopes for most of this time. After surveying the major stars, we’ve decided to investigate the object. All hands are on deck, pulling round-the-clock shifts to maintain peak performance of the Fleet. We’ll soon be entering its orbit.
[beat]
(quieter) There’s more. Zuvan managed to crack the encryption of the signal themself. All it says is “She wakes,” over and over... and the signal has been getting stronger as we approach the singularity. Whatever it means, whoever she is... the signal is coming from the black hole, or something orbiting it.
[beat]
This is wrong. This is all so wrong. As we fly closer to the source, my mind... it feels... hazy. Like I’m half awake, still almost dreaming... echoes of another time... memory like stardust dripping from a comet... And something else, a presence filling the void...
[brief beat]
(sudden dread) We shouldn’t have come here.
[bolting to his feet]
(shouting away from the mic) BARO! TURN THE FLEET AROUND, SOMETHING IS OUT THERE! IT’S–
[monumental crash, log terminates]
wrote a teaser prologue thingy for a Hyperlanes campaign I want to run, called Orion’s Echo. possibly more parts to come!
Captain's Log // Pathfinder Telamon // 20.5.5240 // 05:15 Fleet Standard Time
[several seconds of silence]
(quietly) ... I never know how to begin these things, even after twenty years of recording them.
(normal volume) This is Commander Akair Vayth of the Pathfinder Telamon, Argo-class capital ship for the Pathfinder Initiative expedition into the Trapezium Cluster. We're currently docked in Palladion Skyharbor, and preparations to leave Athenian orbit are nearly complete. We're scheduled to launch at 0600, bound for 45 Orionis. Our plan is to take the jumpgate routes to Rigel to resupply, then make the jump to Alnilam. From there, we're on our own as we fly into unknown territory.
[beat]
Our fleet is twelve ships strong: the Telamon herself, a support carrier and the capital ship; four Asterion-class exploration frigates, the Archimedes, Pythagoras, Aristarchus, and Eratosthenes; four Hephaestion-class industrial frigates, the Prometheus, Brontes, Arges, and Steropes; two Heraklion-class support frigates, the Balius and Xanthus; and an Asclepion-class medical support corvette, the Dione. I'll admit, when the commission proposed a mere twelve ships for an expedition of such long duration, I was quite skeptical, but in composing the fleet I've grown confident in the crew's capability.
[beat]
Still... I worry. We're going further into the Orion Nebula than anyone ever has, and we don't know what lurks in the dark between the stars. Previous expeditions in the Clouds have described unusual readings from the Trapezium Cluster, hinting at... well, we're not sure. It could be a black hole. Could be a high-arity pulsar, or an exotic star. Or something... organic.
[beat]
I'm overthinking this, I'm sure. We're just going to chart the cluster, gauge its habitability, and set up a jumpgate if possible. But in any case, I'm needed on the bridge again. Commander Vayth, signing off.
[log terminates]
SOS Transponder // Pathfinder Telamon // 05.01.5244 // 00:06 Fleet Standard Time
(weary, broken) This is... (sigh) Stars above, I just don’t know what to say.
[beat]
I’m stranded on a cold, lifeless desert moon without a name. This planet’s sun is like a dark, angry eye, glaring down at me. At night, the sky shines with violet clouds. I think the word for it is nebula. ...I’m alone. Nobody else lives on this world, as far as I know.
[beat]
(sigh) Judging by the wreckage, I must have crashed, though I only have the vaguest notion of how long ago that happened.
...Months? ...Years?
The remnants of the hull are intact enough for me to read the name Telamon. I feel like I should know what that means, but I don’t. Most of the systems on the ship are destroyed beyond repair, at least as far as I can tell. I feel like I used to know how to fix these things, but that’s all gone... The only system still in working order, besides life support, is... this. Whatever this is. Some sort of communicator, I think.
[beat]
...I hope.
[beat]
(more broken) If anyone out there is listening, please come find me. Or at least send some sort of reply. I need help, however you can help, please just... help me. I don’t know where I am, or how I got here. But worst of all...
(wavering) I don’t know who I am.
[transmission terminates]
wrote a teaser prologue thingy for a Hyperlanes campaign I want to run, called Orion’s Echo. possibly more parts to come!
Captain's Log // Pathfinder Telamon // 20.5.5240 // 05:15 Fleet Standard Time
[several seconds of silence]
(quietly) ... I never know how to begin these things, even after twenty years of recording them.
(normal volume) This is Commander Akair Vayth of the Pathfinder Telamon, Argo-class capital ship for the Pathfinder Initiative expedition into the Trapezium Cluster. We're currently docked in Palladion Skyharbor, and preparations to leave Athenian orbit are nearly complete. We're scheduled to launch at 0600, bound for 45 Orionis. Our plan is to take the jumpgate routes to Rigel to resupply, then make the jump to Alnilam. From there, we're on our own as we fly into unknown territory.
[beat]
Our fleet is twelve ships strong: the Telamon herself, a support carrier and the capital ship; four Asterion-class exploration frigates, the Archimedes, Pythagoras, Aristarchus, and Eratosthenes; four Hephaestion-class industrial frigates, the Prometheus, Brontes, Arges, and Steropes; two Heraklion-class support frigates, the Balius and Xanthus; and an Asclepion-class medical support corvette, the Dione. I'll admit, when the commission proposed a mere twelve ships for an expedition of such long duration, I was quite skeptical, but in composing the fleet I've grown confident in the crew's capability.
[beat]
Still... I worry. We're going further into the Orion Nebula than anyone ever has, and we don't know what lurks in the dark between the stars. Previous expeditions in the Clouds have described unusual readings from the Trapezium Cluster, hinting at... well, we're not sure. It could be a black hole. Could be a high-arity pulsar, or an exotic star. Or something... organic.
[beat]
I'm overthinking this, I'm sure. We're just going to chart the cluster, gauge its habitability, and set up a jumpgate if possible. But in any case, I'm needed on the bridge again. Commander Vayth, signing off.
[log terminates]
The Face of a Traveller
It was a dismal day on Alathil Prime. The amber sky was obfuscated by dark and furious clouds, and a steep hillside was all that protected a lone trading post from the searing wind and rain.
The circular door to the landing pad whirred open to let in the howl of the forest moon’s infamous jade winds, as well as something else. Trader Alss glanced up from cleaning the counter as the door snapped shut behind the newcomer, sharply muting the wailing storm down to a dull roar of boiling rain against ceramic alloy.
The new arrival was a rather imposing humanoid figure, steam rising from their black and red exosuit as they wiped rain droplets from their heavily tinted visor. The iconic helmet was familiar to the residents of this trading post.
“Traveller Kynon,” Alss called pleasantly. “So nice of you to stop by!”
Kynon chuckled under their helmet. “Good to see you, Alss.” They brushed water from their shoulder. “How is it that every time I come to this dreary little moon, it’s storming?”
Alss gave a sly shrug. “Why is it that you only visit when it rains?”
“An excellent counter-question, my friend. Alas, I don’t have much time for debate, I’m afraid. Making a rather hefty freight run between Ereb and Ingdiaw.”
“Ah, I thought I heard the Apostle’s turbofans,” quipped the amphibian trader. “What are you hauling, friend?”
“Sixty tonnes of dirt!”
The two of them laughed together for a few moments.
“Listen,” Kynon began, their voice taking on a more serious tone. “I’m working on a project, now, and I do need something while I’m here.”
Alss quirked an eyebrow, studying the featureless helmet visor. “What might that be, friend?”
“As much glass as you have in stock.”
The trader frowned in confusion, clicking their beak ponderously. “Glass, you say? Hrrmm... I have about twenty-five thermal crates of raw molten glass in the back,” they divulged, guarded, “but that is it. The glass is not cheap, either. Aeron Sanctum regulations heavily restrict terrestrial mining in this system, and there are no quartzflower farms within two photon-fathoms of Alathil Major. This glass is imported, at some expense.”
The Traveller scoffed in good humor. “Come on, Alss, you know I can pay you well. The Argo Fleet operations have been quite lucrative. In fact, I’ll pay you double what it’s worth, so you can get a new shipment as soon as it’s available. How does that sound?”
Alss squinted, trying in vain to discern any hint of a facial feature behind Kynon’s visor. “This project of yours must be important,” they leveled.
Kynon paused, considering their next words carefully. “I would say so.”
“And I sense that twenty-five cubic units of glass is not enough to fulfill your needs.”
“Most likely not.”
“I will offer a deal for you.”
“That’s quite gracious of you, Alss.”
“You may not like it, but the choice is yours.”
The Traveller snorted. “Whatever your price, trader, I can pay it.”
“You can, of course. But you may not want to.”
“What, my ship? I’m reluctant to sell the Apostle of the Sky, but this... project of mine is of great importance. I have other ships.”
“No, not your ship. A tantalizing offer, but no. Something considerably more personal.”
Kynon said nothing, leaving the silence open for the wily merchant to continue.
“My proposition is this: I will tell you the identity and location of my supplier. You can get as much as you need, right from the source. But...” Alss leaned forward over the counter, inches from the shining, dark glass of Kynon’s helmet visor. “In return, you will show me the ever-hidden face of a Traveller.”
Traveller Kynon was silent.
“You are welcome to refuse,” said Alss, receding back to a comfortable stance outside their client’s personal space. “But I know you, and I know your options. Naturally, you could simply continue to pay me for the glass as a geographically convenient but costly middle-merchant. You could try to find a supplier on your own, but it would be far out of your way. Atlas knows I would not stop you from simply defying the Sanctum laws and mining the silica yourself from anywhere you wish. But your cheapest, most convenient, and least time-consuming option is to sate my curiosity.”
Kynon stood motionless in contemplation for many moments, letting the silence be filled by the drumming of rain on the habitat’s exterior. At last, they stirred, and spoke. “You, my amphibious friend, make a number of compelling points. Why, you ought to be up there, haggling in the Rigel Alpha Hub!”
“Flattery will not alter the deal,” Alss bluntly stated. “Your face, and the selling price, for my supplier, or double price for every shipment.”
The Traveller’s head fell slightly. “How can I trust you with this secret?”
It was Alss’ turn to scoff. “We have engaged in the sacred tradition of barter for five solar cycles, Traveller Kynon. I have not been dishonest even once. But I wish to see the face of a Traveller. Your kind are anomalies, rarities, survivors of a dying kind, legacies of a civilization lost to the sands of time. Your face, your identity, is sacred to you, as trade is sacred to me. Faith for faith, custom for custom. You desire glass, and you can get glass elsewhere, but I have it. I desire knowledge, and I can get it elsewhere, but you have it.” They stared levelly at the Traveller, unblinking. “A barter.”
After mulling over Alss’ words, Kynon sighed. “You confuse the terms. I am a Traveller, but that is not my kind. Travellers are of many kinds, but I am alone even among Travellers. I am the only one of my kind I have ever met, and perhaps the only one at all.”
They placed a hand on their helmet, causing Alss to raise their eyebrows in anticipation. “My kind have no name, not anymore. But we are -were- reflections. Facsimiles of the world beneath. Please, Alss, be warned that what you see in my face... it may not make sense, or it may make too much sense.”
“I am ready, Kynon.”
Without another word, the Traveller raised their visor.
Alss gasped, taking in the shape of the weathered face they saw; the scars, the folds, the depth of their eyes, and the truth within.
Kynon lowered their visor once more, but the trader continued to stare, wide-eyed and vacant.
“Are you alright, Alss?” the Traveller asked, with genuine concern. “What did you see?”
A tear ran down Alss’ face as they spoke, their voice barely a whisper. “I saw a world of glass.”
Galactic Standard is an Arcadian-based melting pot of various laryngeal languages from across known space. It is the de facto common language of the galaxy, since the Aehr (native Arcadian speakers) were the first explorers to chart the galaxy and make contact with the early-modern Milky Way’s various sophont species. The language is less necessary in modern times, what with the increasingly sophisticated neuromatic translators, but thanks to its prevalence over the last several tens of thousands of cycles, it remains the dominant interstellar vocal language.
The Galactic Standard alphabet is a 40-letter phonetic alphabet consisting of symbols for the phonemes of:
h (aspirate)
tʃ (postalveolar affricate)
χ (uvular fricative)
g (voiced velar stop)
q (uvular stop)
k (voiceless velar stop)
ks (velar sibilant)
s (voiceless alveolar sibilant)
ʂ (voiceless retroflex fricative)
z (voiced alveolar sibilant)
ʐ (voiced retroflex fricative)
j (palatal approximant)
ʎ (palatal lateral approximant)
y (close front rounded)
i (close front unrounded)
ɪ (near-close near-front)
ä (open central)
a (open front)
e (close-mid front)
ɛ (open-mid front)
o (mid-back)
ɔ (open-mid back)
ʊ (near-close near-back)
ɯ (close back)
w (labialized velar approximant)
φ (bilabial non-sibilant fricative)
f (voiceless labiodental non-sibilant fricative)
v (voiced labiodental non-sibilant fricative)
m (bilabial nasal)
n (alveolar nasal)
d (voiced alveolar stop)
rr (alveolar trill)
ɻ (retroflex approximant)
l (alveolar lateral approximant)
tɬ (alveolar lateral affricate)
θ (voiceless dental non-sibilant fricative)
ð (voiced dental non-sibilant fricative)
t (voiceless alveolar stop)
p (voiceless bilabial stop)
b (voiced bilabial stop)
hey folks, I wrote a thing and I’m proud of it! it’s a short sad story about a man dying alone in deep space. check it out!
There’s no sound in space.
Everyone knows this. Every child born on a spacefaring world is taught that the vacuum of space, having only a few atoms per cubic centimeter, cannot by its nature conduct acoustic waves. This means that whatever sounds you hear while plying the void between worlds come from within your own spacecraft.
Some take solace in this fact, enjoying the silence and solitude that the endless deep embodies. Some prefer to bask in the bone-deep humming of the drive coils, pulsing their magnetic hymns of atomic power; or keep time by the steady, quiet chirps of the scanners watching the endless night all around.
But when the hull starts to whisper as you lie awake in your berth, singing your sins to you like a lullaby for the damned… the only way to escape it is to throw yourself out of the airlock.
For there’s no sound in space, and no one can hear you scream.
Mercury is a small, airless world in the deep inner Sol system, the closest planet to its sun and consequently a world of thermal extremes. Its solar day is over 1400 metric hours long, meaning that any point of the surface is exposed to sunlight for 700 hours or more. Because of this Mercury isn't an especially populated world –just under twenty million souls live and work almost entirely beneath its rocky crust– but the surface facilities shine brightly because there is no atmosphere to dull their light.
Much of Mercury’s 19.4 million inhabitants are concentrated in the capital city of Lóng Cháo, embedded into and under the surface of Rachmaninoff Crater (seen here on the terminator line, in the northern hemisphere). Its orbital space, however, is busier, serving as a hub for the ore traders hauling raw materials from one side of the solar system to the other.
Mercury is an autonomous territory of the United Sol System, as part of the Inner System Territories. Its flag, an inverted monochrome depiction of its penumbra, is shown below the main image.
more worldbuilding stuff! photobash of a future human-inhabited Mercury, plus its flag, created for my hard science fiction setting Astra Planeta. done using assets from Space Engine.
Venus is the second planet in the Sol system, an Earth-sized rocky world with a dense, hot CO2 atmosphere and aggressively volcanic surface. The only habitable zone of Venus is a relatively thin layer of atmosphere some fifty kilometers above the surface, where the temperature and pressure closely resemble conditions at sea level on Earth.
Because of this air layer, the skies of Venus are swarming with aerostat habitats to support its 25.4 million inhabitants (seen here as a scattering of hazy glowing dots in the thin crescent of twilight). The largest aerostat is the capital city of Najam Alsabah, nestled in the lower stratosphere. One of the key drivers of Venus’ growing population is its wealth: the territory has become quite prosperous over the last several centuries due to the harvest and export of valuable, rare chemicals such as nitrogen, sulfur, and phosphorous.
Venus is an autonomous territory of the United Sol System, as part of the Inner System Territories. Its flag, a bicolor high-contrast depiction of its vast atmospheric cloud waves, is shown below the main image.
at last, some more worldbuilding stuff! photobash of a future human-inhabited Venus, plus its flag, created for my hard science fiction setting Astra Planeta. done using assets from Space Engine.
oh right! I wrote another short piece set in the Diaspora the other day: Out of the Cradle [link], a story about the first words spoken on Mars.
documenting a bit of the recent Diaspora worldbuilding thought process here since I feel I should share more of that. y'know, since "it's my [blog] and I get to [post] the [content]"
So it turns out having an ancient and very advanced (and currently extinct) alien civilization in the immediate vicinity of the solar system ten thousand years ago is a bit of a pain in the ass to implement just right if you don't want humanity to figure out they existed until a few centuries down the line. I managed to whittle down the problem of their inevitable presence in our system to just a ruined observation post on one of the minor inner moons of Uranus, which doesn't get properly discovered until mid-22nd-century, but even so the paradigm shift it presents needs more mitigation. ANYWAY, that's not what this post is about.
Specific problem du jour: Alpha Centauri. It was one of the central hubs of skgri civilization; it's absolutely saturated with arcologies, cities, megastructure habitats... even two whole terraformed moons. The entire damn star system is the most prominent relict of skgri civilization this side of Barnard (their home sun), and it's right goddamn next door to humanity. Admittedly, the artifacts and such have been mostly ruined from the large-scale interstellar war and then eight thousand years of intervening time... but there's still so much skgri stuff everywhere in the system that it would be pretty easy to translate their language, interpret their culture, and reverse engineer their technology even from scraps. Oops.
HOWEVER... the need for xenoarchaeologists to pore over hundreds of thousands of sites on dozens of worlds –and potentially millions of partially-demolished spacecraft– to gain a comprehensive enough understanding of skgri'i language to start deciphering their works... that would necessarily be the work of millions of researchers, for possibly hundreds of years... which is the PERFECT excuse to explain the gradual human settlement of the Alpha Centauri system without the need for bullshit manifest destiny (because manifest destiny is for losers and We Don't Do That Here).
I still have a great many other problems to solve about the existence of the skgri'i, but this is one fairly big problem solved! thanks for tuning in, and if you have questions go ahead and ask. :)
Ancient Mother Earth, cradle of the human miracle yet half-forgotten by her long-departed children, appears in the 53rd century as an overgrown playground of gods. Vast and awesome constructs, in various stages of disrepair, dot the slowly-healing landscape and the orbits above, evoking an image of toys left scattered on a bedroom floor. The human race once longed to spread its wings and fly to the stars, and Earth now remains the empty nest from whence they fledged.
Yet, she is not all empty, after all. Some could not bear to leave their mother behind, and for millennia now they have toiled in quiet solace to care for the weary Earth after her labors to birth starfaring humanity. And, much as one turns to the halcyon of childhood to comfort the grief of adulthood, so too does humankind their Earthbound infancy: now, slowly, a tide of reverent hiraeth sweeps across the people of the stars, drawing them back to the garden.
Mother is calling her children home.