Random Numbers: How 'Powerful' is a 40 Watt phased plasma rifle?

Science Happens...

   For an Author writing SF can be challenging for many reasons.  Not least is the expectation that there must be some 'science' involved, especially for a 'hard SF' work.  Often this results in lengthy and boring expositions where the technology, setting, or related paraphernalia is explained in detail.  This isn't so bad; it is, after all, the reason many people read that particular kind of SF.  A bigger issue is when the author adds in a random number, not always necessary, in order to imbed more firmly in his reader/audience's mind that this is 'science' fiction.  But, often, the number is not as carefully selected as it should be.  Most SF fans will not care, but for some of us fanatics it is a major annoyance.

   The case in question is from Terminator, one of my favourite SF movies.  The terminator is buying guns and asks the shopkeeper if he has a 'phased plasma rifle in the forty watt range'.  So far so good. A single line that reinforces the fact that the terminator is a robotic killer from the future.

   But I got thinking, is 40W really a good number?  A big problem for hard SF authors wishing to include energy based weapons into their 'Verse is how much power to give them; making sidearms wight eh output of a thermonuclear warhead is an obvious no-no, for example.  So I made the following table, 'translating' the output of several modern kinetic weapons into a 'Power' rating.  It is not a perfect comparison, as directed energy weapons employ a different mechanism to do damage t the target than do KEW, but it provides a rough ballpark.

   It turns out that the terminator's preferred weapon is roughly equivalent to a .22 magnum rifle firing one round every fifteen seconds.  Not a very terrifying prospect.  If it had been forty kilowatts it would be another matter entirely.  While it is not an issue that detracts from the quality of a SF work overall getting details such as this correct is at the heart of hard SF, so hopefully this table will help with those details.  It also shows why multi-barrelled weapons are so deadly, even when they fire a relatively small projectile.  For anyone trying to do their own calculations, they are as follows;

Energy = (Mass * Velocity^2) / 2
mass in kg, velocity in m/s, energy in joules
Power = (Energy * RPM) / 60


EDIT
   It was pointed out in the comments that I had inadvertently used the wrong equation.  I've fixed that, and the table is updated as well.  If I've made any other errors feel free to point them out

Myths of SF: Do Nuclear Reactors Explode?

Fission, Fusion, Reactors, and Bombs

   Fear of nuclear devices is deeply engrained in modern culture as a result of the Cold War; years of imminent nuclear annihilation has that effect.  SF often reflects this, with many works from the Cold War period or later revolving around nuclear war as the cause of an apocalypse.  Even though that has been replaced in new works by climate disruption, genetic mishaps, etc. that reflect the newest scientific advances the negative connotation of nuclear devices remains.

   The most common example of this is the use of Fission bombs to show a person or faction as being 'uncivilised' or to show how desperate the situation.  In the Dune 'Verse all the noble families posses Atomics the use of which is seen as unthinkable, while in the movie Oblivion the use of nuclear weapons against the invading aliens was used to indicate the desperation of Earth's defenders.  The second example, more prevalent in movies at least as far as my own experience goes, is that of a reactor exploding.  As well as tapping into people's fear of radiation and their knowledge of the destructive potential of nuclear weapons it is an easy way to add tension to a story.  Alien did this, as is Aliens a classic example with the damaged Atmosphere Processor, and is the B-movie Nuclear Hurricane, although in the latter example the reactor did not explode its use as a literary device is the same.

   For a really fanatical 'hard SF' fan that is a problem.  Nuclear reactors don't explode.  Or more precisely - a nuclear reactor will not undergo a nuclear detonation, producing the feared mushroom cloud.  They can still explode, but this is due to high pressure steam or chemical reactions, and while it may severely damage the reactor facilities and spread radiation, it will not level everything within a kilometres wide blast zone.

   It is also important to understand that in a modern nuclear 'physics package' it is actually quite hard to achieve nuclear detonation.  The explosive compression of the fissile core requires incredible precise timing to achieve the required densities.  While gun-type devices are less precise they are still a mechanism dedicated to achieving a fission explosion.  Thus it is highly improbable that any nuclear reactor is eve able to achieve the conditions for a fission detonation; the required conditions are too precise.

   Yet an immanent catastrophe is the perfect way to spice up an otherwise lagging plot, are to up the stakes just that little bit more, so what can the hard SF writer do?  Firstly, arrange the setting so that a relatively small explosion is catastrophic - "if the reactor goes down the plasma shields fail and the solar flare will kill us all!"  Specify a non-nuclear explosion - fusion reactors could be quite cooperative in this regard, as I will explain later - to avoid the critics, and way you go.  For more specialised situations there is a possibility of nuclear detonation, most revolving around spacecraft due to the inherent danger of a system that can suffer catastrophic failure.

   I'm going to look at the first and second options.  For the non-nuclear explosion a quick look at the Chernobyl and Fukushima disasters will outline the basic failure modes.  Then for more futuristic settings will be a look a Fusion, Antimatter, Black Holes, NSWR, NPP, and more.

Chernobyl after the disaster
Source

Chernobyl & Fukushima

   The key to both Fukushima and Chernobyl hinges, to my (arguable limited) understanding on the fact that a fission reactor cannot be stopped instantly as, for example a car engine can.  A percentage of the power that the fuel outputs is not from the primary reaction but from the decay of short lived isotopes produced in the reactor.  This makes shutting down a fission reactor a tricky matter under the best conditions, as full cooling must be maintained uninterrupted through the process.  In Fukushima the failure of backup diesel genitors compromised the cooling system, and when the backup batteries run out it lead to a meltdown as the containment vessel overheated.  According to the wikipedia page

   "It is estimated that the hot zirconium fuel cladding-water reaction in Reactors 1-3 produced 800 kilograms (1,800 lb) to 1,000 kilograms (2,200 lb) of hydrogen gas each, which was vented out of the reactor pressure vessel and mixed with the ambient air. The gas eventually reached explosive concentration limits in Units 1 and 3. Either through piping connections between Units 3 and 4 or from the zirconium reaction in Unit 4 itself,^[27] Unit 4 also filled with hydrogen. Explosions occurred in the upper secondary containment building in all three reactors.^[28]"

   A similar situation occurred at Chernobyl.  Although it seems that the problem there was more due to the rapid boiling of the coolant water.  From the appropriate wikipedia page

  "Because of the positive void coefficient of the RBMK reactor at low reactor power levels, it was now primed to embark on a positive feedback loop, in which the formation of steam voids reduced the ability of the liquid water coolant to absorb neutrons, which in turn increased the reactor's power output. This caused yet more water to flash into steam, giving yet a further power increase."

   Basically the coolant flow dropped too low allowing steam to form.  As the steam does not absorb neutrons as well as the water the reaction rate in the core increased rapidly, finally reaching ten time the normal output.  This overpressure blew the containment vessel, venting all coolant and sending lumps of superheated graphite moderator into the air where they fought fire.  The secondary explosion was more powerful than the first and was probably a combination of chemical and steam. 

   The wikipedia pages provide more than enough information for any SF author to write a convincing plot centred around a failed nuclear reactor, and the citation links provide a huge mine of further information, so I won't go any further into the mechanics of a fission reactor failure.

A still of the atmosphere processor from
James Cameron's Aliens          Source

Fusion Reactor Failure

   One of the many advantages a fusion reactor would have over a fusion design would be its relative immunity to catastrophic failure.  The reacting fuel is a thin plasma that can be vented if problems arise, since most fusion fuels are non-radioactive.  Also, if the reaction is allowed to stop the fuel cools very rapidly, unlike solid fission fuel with its decay energy.  So it seems that with a good design catastrophic failure is unluckily in a fusion reactor.  There is, however, one possible medium through which it might occur. 

   Fusion reactors contain plasma through superconducting magnetics.  The superconductivity of such magnets is dependant on their being kept below a certain temperature, called the 'critical temperature'.  Above this point the conductors used in the magnetic become normal conductors, able to carry only a small fraction of the current that they can while superconductive.  If the cooling system was damaged it might be possible for the magnets to reach the critical temperature.  The resistivity of the coils would increase suddenly, heating them.  As the temperature rises so does the resistivity.  If the energy flowing through the coils is high enough it could be released in the form of an explosion as the coils are vaporised.  More energy would be added by the fusion plasma, although I have no idea how much that would be, given the extremely low densities.  If this is possible the effect would be most prominent in reactors with the strongest magnetic coils and high power outputs.

   Of course, any good reactor would be designed to prevent this from happening.  But incompetence, cost cutting, sabotage, and damage all offer an opportunity for any safety features to be circumvented.  The result will not be the nuclear blast of Aliens, but it could be more than enough to destroy a spacecraft or space station, two places where extremely powerful fusion reactors are likely to be found.  And of course boiling lithium or sodium coolant flying all over the place would add to the destruction, especially if there was large amounts of water present, or perhaps a fluorine atmosphere?

Warning sign by Anders Sandberg of
the Lifeboat Foundation

Antimatter

   This hardly needs explaining.  Atomic Rockets has a much better overview of the issues with storing antimatter than I could include here, so follow the link.

   Although not strictly speaking a 'reactor' antimatter might prove to be the only way to achieve certain things.  Interstellar flight, torchships via micro-fission or fusion sparked with minuscule amounts of antimatter.  However it has the fatal flaw of reacting with anything.  Which means no matter how good your containment is, damage through accident or design is a 'bad thing', which is why the containment cylinders on the starship Enterprise could be ejected.

   Superconductors also play into this scenario.  As a superconducting electromagnet does not loose all its power instantly when the power is cut off there might be a short delay between the failure and the magnetically levitated ball of anti hydrogen contacting the containment vessel and vaporising the ship.  It might be only seconds, but those seconds could mean the difference between the crew compartment automatically ejecting or getting atomised.

Robert Zubrin's NSWR from this paper

NSWR: Nuclear Salt Water Rocket

   For the people who think that the Orion Drive is impractical there is a concept known as the Nuclear Salt Water Rocket.  Innocent sounding name, but a rather terrifying mode of operation.  Water containing enriched uranium salts is pumped into the reaction chamber where it undergoes a continuous nuclear detonation.  Premature detonation is prevented by storing the fuel in a matrix of neutron absorbing material.  Once again I refer anyone interested in further details to Atomic Rockets.  The thing is that the NSWR offers such high performance that it might be used despite the obvious risks; military, interstellar probes, and massive commercial spacecraft all have obvious benefits.  They could even form the basis of a power system with the plasma from the exhaust guided through a MHD generator.  But should the neutron absorber be damaged or the 'nuke juice' accumulate to critical mass there will be a low yield fission explosion, perhaps powerful enough to cause detonation of the rest of the fuel.  Slightly safer than antimatter.

Credit Anders Sandberg

Black Holes

   Confusingly these favourites of SF are not, in fact, black.  Through some complicated physics I don't really understand black holes give off Hawking Radiation.  Not only that but they can evaporate.  The rate of evaporation is inversely related to the mass, as is the temperature of the radiation.  If you had a very small, as in atomic radius small, black hole it would give off quite a bit of energy.  If you could stabilise a micro-blask hole by forcing matter into it at the same rate as it lost mass it would be a 100% efficient mass to energy device.  Anyone with the tech to do this has a huge advantage in terms of starship propulsion as well as all the benefits of being a Kardashev level civilisation without having to build a Dyson Shell.  Obviously if the mass input was too low the black hole would 'explode', releasing far more energy than can be contained.  It is also perfectly predictable, if you know the mass of the hole then you know when that moment will come.  This, added to increasing output would be perfect for raising the stakes aboard a post-Singularity starship.  Note that as the amount of Hawking Radiation increases it becomes harder to get the black hole to accept matter due to the sheer energy output, exacerbating the problem.

NPP: Nuclear Pulsed Power

   In pulsed power reactor a tiny nuclear bomb is detonated and the resultant energy turned into electrical power.  A wide rang of techniques are used for both the bomb and the containment/energy capture.

   Most designs would be fairly safe, as under normal conditions the pulses do not put out enough energy to destroy the chamber even under worst case scenarios.  However, a system that had been modified to produce more power, run without spare parts, or one fuel it was not intended to use, could fail catastrophically.   If to the detonation produces to much plasma/debris the containment could be destroyed.  This is most likely in a overpowered magnetic containment design.  If the containment failed the impulsive shock of the detonation on the walls of the chamber could cause massive damage, although an 'explosion' as such is unlikely.

   The two main methods of energy capture are to harvest thermal energy, or to fuse the action of the plasma against magnetic of electric fields to directly generate power.  The former could fail in the method I have already described, but the latter has other modes.  If coolant flow was cut off but fuel detonations continued the coolant could boil, rupturing the system, and causing widespread devastation.  Also, and this applies to a magnetic design as well, the presence of material in the chamber - leaked coolant, gas, or a buildup of reaction products - could magnify the mechanical effects of the explosion, just as the atmosphere does for a nuclear warhead.


Other Systems

   Spacecraft need high performance more than any other application, so it is more than likely that technologies used in space will always be cutting edge, and thus posses more failure modes that tried and true technology.  There is also the slightly cold logic that an explosion in space will probably only harm the crew of one ship even if measured in megatons, while the same detonation on Earth could level a city.  Metastable helium, metallic hydrogen, and similar materials offer vastly increased performance in both spacecraft propulsion and in power generation, but also run the risk of catastrophic failure.  Even further into the haze of a speculative future there will be even more potent dangers.  Anyhow, that should be more than enough information to avoid the common misconceptions surrounding retain failures in SF, and to come up with a more realistic and original scenario.

Myths of SF: Bioships & Organic Spacecraft

The Fallacy of Organic Technology

   It is integral to the nature of SF(defined in the strictest sense) that the technology it portrays is advanced, or in some way unusual.  It is, after all, the reason that many people read SF over other genres.  Partially because of this biotechnology has become rampant in SF, never achieving widespread attention in the way that hyperdrives or blasters have, but appearing in many and varied works throughout the history of the genre.  Biotechnology of the kind needed to produce a spacecraft, or even part of one, is so far beyond current human understanding that it sets the story firmly in the far future, or ensures that a alien race is seen as more advanced.  And therein lies the problem, although a problem that only hard SF fans such as myself may object to.

   In almost all works biotechnology - especially bioships, which will be my focus - are far more powerful/effective than any comparable tech.  The Yuuzhan Vong(Star Wars), Species 8472(Star Trek), Edenists(Night's Dawn Trilogy), Shadows(Babylon 5), Wraith(Stargate Atlantis), Tyranids(WarHammer 40K), to name a few, all had spacecraft superior or equivalent to those that they faced.  Even when their superiority is not demonstrated through combat the organic spacecraft are often seen as more advanced than their mechanical counterparts, like the TARDIS from Doctor Who, or Moya from Farscape.  And although we have very little knowledge of how a bishop might function it seems certain that it would not be faster, be more resilient, have better weapons, etc than a mechanical ship.

   When confronted with this unfortunate truth the reaction of a SF addict is often to state that "its the future, they know things we don't", or "they're aliens and more advanced", or "its a story".  Of these only the last is a real excuse, and even then is only valid when writing 'soft SF'.  Why is this the case?  Mostly it is due to the difference between the structure of biological and nonbiological materials at a molecular scale, along with several restrictions imposed by the growth of the ship.  Because the non-biological structure is constructed externally it does not have to have provision for growth or del repair - instead of single cells it can be homogenous or structured solely to maximise a particular trait.  The result of this is that any material assembled biologically will be inferior to a nonbiological material.  It is not that simple however, the biological materials will have different properties and so designs will be different to make use of them, somewhat negating the less optimal materials.  The small applies to larger structures or constructs.

   Take rocket engines, or example.  A nuclear thermal rocket, at the low end of practical space travel in term of materials science, uses refractory metals and active cooling to keep from melting, not to mention the effects of radiation.  Any comparable biological system will have to withstand temperatures ranging from the cryogenic to thousands of K, be highly conductive to heat, have good mechanical strength, etc.  It will also need pumps to cycle the cryogenic liquid gas used as reaction mass or suffer the performance penalty associated with water or similar.  For their first requirements they are all characteristics that are increased by the homogeneity of the material, making an organic 'grown' substance unlikely.  For the pump not only does it have to cope with massive torques and insanely high rotational speeds but with the cryogenic temperatures.  Any living tissue will freeze solid and die at those temperatures, and if it is a dead material you loose the biggest advantage of a biological system - self repair.  The same applies to weapons, sensors, etc.  So while it may no be impossible to build a bioship it is unlucky that either the components or the whole will have greater performance than a purely technological system.

   So why bother?  Are there any reasons a bioship could be used?  To answer this it is important to consider this: biological systems are not inferior or superior to technological ones, they are merely optimised for a different scenario.  And this is their advantage.  A standard metal-and-composite hull would take a far amount of technology, resources, and effort to construct, making it an expensive item.  Likewise repairs are probably difficult without the resources used in construction, and may never return full strength or performance.  A bioship side-steps these disadvantages.  For construction it might need only a vat of nutrients, and can self repair to a high standard.  More advanced types might literally grow from eggs or embryos placed in the correct environment, like the Voidhawks of the Night's Dawn Trilogy who grow to maturity in the rings of a gas giant.  If so a fleet could require only time to construct, vasty reducing the const and increasing the huber of vessels available.  In a realistic space war, where it is likely that most hits will disable or destroy a ship, quantity may well be more important than quality.  And of course the whole ship does not have to biological; the Brumallian bioships in Neal Asher's Hilldiggers had implanted fusion drives.  

The Bioship Moya from Farscape 

Biological, symbiote, biomechanoid, cyborg?

   Bioships do not come in a single flavour.  As posited above they will not have the performance of a tech ship they do have the potential advantage of being much cheaper.  The disadvantage can be combated by adding modules of technology - engines, weapons, sensors - but this decreases the advantage.  As it turns out there are four main approaches to this trade-off, each with advantages and disadvantages.  Note that in practice these categories overlaps, some components of a single spacecraft falling under different classifications.  

   Biological
   In a fully biology-based bioship the spacecraft is one living organism.  It is still alive, perhaps even growing, and requires no external technology to function.  As such it is more an animal than a machine, and may even posses intelligence.  While this is one of the more common variations in SF it is the least likely.  Foremost is the lack of propulsion tech comparable with biological systems, often explained away by giving the bioship the ability to manipulate gravity(Voidhawks and the ships of the Yuuzhan Vong).  If these did occur in 'Real Life' they would likely live in the rings of a gas giant or in its moon system where energy and resources are potentially cheap while deltaV costs are low compared to interplanetary flight.  A fully biological organism could also be used as the basis of an artificial space-based ecosystem, harvested for their concentrated resources by humans or higher level animals.

   While they have the potential to require no human input in growth these bioships suffer from the most flaws.  Not only are they weak in terms of performance they need the most time to grow, need feeding, can get sick, be attacked with biological or chemical agents, and it intelligent suffer mental problems.

Symbiotes 

   A symbiotic spaceship is similar to a fully organic one except that it is composed of a colony of different organisms rather than single entity, similar to the Portuguese Man 'O War jellyfish.  It has the same disadvantages as the previous version of a bioship with only a few advantages.  The primary advantage is that by dividing the ship into separate 'subsystems' it is more robust against injury or attack, and it one segment fails - a drive unit, sensor cluster, etc. - there is the potential for it to be quickly replaced rather than regrown.  Although, of course, communication and commonality between the segments could be a problem.

   It is also important to realise that any of the other classifications can also be constructed of separately grown systems, although in that case it becomes a mere example of biotechnological engineering rather than a true bioship.

Biomechanoids 

   Biomechanical is a term that is often used to describe the work of H. R. Giger, who designed the alien from the Alien franchise, along with the derelict spacecraft in the first movie.  According to wikipedia it is also a term meaning the same thing as a cyborg.  Its actual meaning - or the most rigorous definition - is a living organism that incorporates elements of mechanical systems, but not as implants in the way a cyborg does.  In other words it is a biological system that rather than finding its own solution to a problem, utilises one that is a at least visually similar to the more technological approach.

   They are the most effective kind of bioship, and probably the hardest to create.  Although grown they are not necessarily still alive, wither in part or whole.  Because of this they can have greater performance.  Structures can be 'layered' in a kind of biological 3D printing.  Coral-like material could be used in rockets, reinforced by fibres on the outside, and cooled by transpiration.  It also makes them more resistant to temperature, radiation, and damage.  They don't need feeding, medical care, or a controlled environment.  And I imagine it is far more comfortable for the crew than  the inside of a living organism.  Of course it loses the ability to heal, but as this is going to be slow in any case, the loss is probably worth the improvement in performance.  It might also be possible to 'reactivate' parts of the ship when they are damaged.  Of greater concern is the fact that many biological materials loose strength when dead.  Many devices such as rotary pumps can be used, which would be hard in a living system, and weapons in particular should be easier.  Sensors and drives should also benefit by the greater degree of optimisation offered by not having living material.

Cyborgs

   Self explanatory for any fan of SF the cyborg bioship is probably the most likely ever to be developed or used as it combines the strong points of both biological and mechanical systems.  This approach is exemplified by the Edenist Voidhawks from The Night's Dawn Trilogy, which were sentient bioengineered creatures with the ability to manipulate gravity, and who carried a technological crew compartment, weapons, etc.  While the organism should be alive for it to be a cyborg in the strictest sense a combination of technology and biomechanical systems seems a good approach.  Structure, armour, remass systems, life support, these could all be biological while drives, sensors, communications, and weapons are technological.  The disadvantage is of course the added complexity of getting a biological and mechanical system to interface, and having components that must be manufactured rather than grown.


Aspects of Design

   For bioships in general there are several things to think about, points and suggestions for the way that they could be designed/grown.

Lifespan  Does the bioship age?  Does it have a childhood?  This probably applies only to sentient bioships, but raises interesting questions about how they are 'retired'.  Immaturity might also be a problem with young bioships.

Sickness   Can the bioship get sick?  Even if it cannot there is the possibility of biological attack.  The ship will probably have a immune system of some kind, although it may be closer to a diagnostic system than the immunological setup of a human.  Do they have allergies?  Can they get drunk?  These questions will add interest to any SF 'Verse, and have potential to push the plot in a particular direction without overt handwaving.

Crew   In SF it is common for bioships to 'bond' with a particular individual who then acts as their captain, even to the extent that Voidhawks gestate alongside their future partner.  More realistically the bioship's metabolism could provide life support for the crew or passengers, producing oxygen, food, and warmth, as well as processing waste.

Intelligence   Many bioships in SF are intelligent, making them a character in the story and allowing for many and varied plot twists.  This also brings up somewhat darker questions.  Can the ship feel pain?  Can it have emotions, does it choose its crew?  Do bioships have legal rights, or are they property/enslaved?  This is heavily dependant on the level of sentience - a dog-level ship can be euthanised if injured, but a sapient(human level) ship is another kettle of fish entirely.

   Another fact to consider is the bioship's piloting ability.  If it is sentient, and especially if part of a self-sustaining population, it is likely to be a far greater pilot than any human.  In the way that a bird can fly in winds no aircraft can face the bioship's mind and 'body' are perfectly suited to a 3D environment and the vagaries of orbital mechanics.  Even a AI might have trouble keeping up with them.

Sensorium   While there is no stealth in space a bioship's sensors are likely to be almost pathetically weak if organic in nature.  While 'giant eyeballs' could provide decent optical imaging other frequencies will be difficult to observe.  Communications will also be limited, especially since emitters of any kind of energy, even if possibly, are likely to be weak.  Biological systems do not like high power flows.  However, there is an advantage over tech systems in that sensors should be no more expensive to grow than other modules, allowing high redundancy.  Brightness filters could be in the form of translucent 'nictitating membranes'

Weapons   DEW are going to be impossible to grow, mostly due to the waste heat involved in lasers and the magnetic fields in particle beams.  For the same reason, along with power demand, electromotive weapons - railguns - are unlikely.  Missiles are presumably possible and the ability to grow them in large numbers makes one of their largest current problems, cost, invalid.  Distilling fuel might prove an issue, however.  Chemical guns might be possible, and of course any system can be added as a cybernetic implant.

Landing   While asteroids, low gravity moons, and comets will provide little difficulty to a bioship they are at a disadvantage in a gravity well or atmosphere.  This is to do with the greater performance required, specially in the acceleration area, and brings up another interesting problem.  While most spacecraft can be designed to hold up under far greater acceleration than the crew, a bioship might be limited to the ~5 g that living creatures can stand for short periods.  Reentry into an atmosphere could also pose a challenge.

Drives   Anything using magnetic fields, directed energy, or massive power requirements is a no go.  Thermal rockets will be the oder of the day, the most powerful being variations of a fission thermal rocket.  Being able to 'digest' a asteroid and extract fissionables could allow a ready supply of fuel and remass is only as far away as the next chunk of ice.  Chemical drives are much more likely, and provide adequate perforce for a bioship living in the ring system of a gas giant.  Solar sails are a possibility, although I see no way for the reflective surface to be formed.

Carboneering   Carboneering, the study and use of carbon allotropes and composites is at the forefront of modern material science, and unlike metallurgy and ceramics might be comparable with a biological system.  If carbon nanotubes and graphene sheets can be grown the strength and performance of a bioship will receive a massive boost.


   Doubtless there are many many more aspects to be considered, imagination is really the only limit.  For soft SF anything goes, and for reasonably hard SF all that needs be kept in mind is the poor performance Vs flexibility and cheap production of an organic system.



Implications

   Most of these have already been covered, things like the susceptibility to biological attack, possibility of sentience, etc.  Most of the ways they differ from a conventional spacecraft are immediately obvious, as are the consequences.  Also, most of these consequences do not extend beyond the environment in which the bioships are employed.  External effect will be mostly the same as those that a technological ship of similar performance, price, etc would have.  The implications of such advanced biotechnology are wider-reaching, and will be the focus of another post.

Interstellar Flight, E-sails, and the Economy of a Solar System

5.9 LY in 50 years
54,000 tonnes for 500 tonnes payload
can't even catch a ride

The Economic Barrier

   As I and others have frequently noted, space is big.  Very big.  And while it may be the final frontier its exploration is far from an insignificant enterprise.  The technological challenges alone are almost unimaginable, and they are dwarfed by even greater challenges in the form of people.  People like to spend mont and time in their own, direct and immediate, interests.  Although spreading to the stars is, in my own opinion, the best way for humanity to survive in the long run, most people cannot see the need for starships - those in charge, at any rate.  Quite aside from the motivation of the people making decisions, the economics of interstellar travel will prevent it for many years to come.  Something like the Daedalus starship of the British Interplanetary Society, pictured above, would cost ~$175 trillion dollars.  Much of that is research cost, and thus gives back in the long term, but anything spent on the starship itself can never bee recovered.  And as much as scientists may argue the value of good data, few politicians would agree with them.

   The solution is to utilised a design that will result in, if not profit, a greatly reduced cost.  Any large - scale interstellar exploration will need large orbital construction facilities, probably utilise asteroid mining, and even might harvest fuel from gas giants.  All in all there will be a lot of infrastructure that needs to be built, adding to the cost.  However, anything geared to mining the asteroids can be put to commercial use once the starship has departed, and represents an investment, not a purchase.  The trick is to minimise the amount of material and tech that actually leaves the solar system, while maximising the amount of tech that can be later used to develop the solar system at a possible profit.

   And for once the universe is playing fair.  It turns out that one of the best systems for a small interstellar craft also best fits the other requirements I've described: the beamrider.  I talked about beamriders here, so I won't go into too much detail about the specific design.  Personally I think that one utilising a e-sail/mag-sail and a plasma based beam would work best.  The beam can provide more momentum for the same amount of power as a laser, so it gives greater acceleration, countering its short range.  Also, the e-sail and magsail are both very effective at decelerating from high speed, so they can be used at the destination.  Another advantage is that it would be harder to use the plasma beam as a weapon, due to a range smaller than hat of a laser, and inability to penetrate Earth's atmosphere, which makes it more likely that governments would allow it to be built.

   Small scale versions could be perfected and used to explore the asteroids and begin mining operations.  These would then be improved as the need for materials increased.  By the time the starship is complete, perhaps fifty-seventy years after the project is started, their are enough large beam stations in various solar obits to boost it to interstellar velocity.  A good tactic would be to start in a orbit distant from the sun, performing the manoeuvre known as a 'sundive' which combines a gravitational slingshot, Oberth flyby, and can use the sail on the starship as a solar sail close to the sun, where it is most effective.

   In a solar system where this has been set up colonisation becomes a reality.  The beams can provide fast interplanetary transport, and also form the basis of an economy.  Coupled with mining, industries that support the colonists, and a secondary economy based on supplying the stations with the mass for the beams.  As more an more people move to the planets and beam stations the need for more mined resources and transport arises, stimulating the economy.

   From the perspective of a SF world builder this provides a compelling hard science 'Verse in which to set a variety of stories.  The beam stations are the centre of a thriving solar system wide economy.  Each could be the centre of a residential space station, income provided by renting the beam and acting as a transport nexus.  Not only this it means that any colonised star system has in place the means of interstellar travel, even if it is still uncommon.  If each beam station is independent politically, very interesting scenarios could play out, with various factions attempting to gain control of the most vital.  Conflict between Earth and the beam stations could provide a refreshing change to colonists on the moon, Mars, or Asteroids.

   I'm not an economist, but that seems to be to be a lot less handwaving that if people are just sent out to mine the asteroids.  That is likely to lead only to unmanned bases, and robotic ships.  The starship project, as an experimental effort, will need people on-sight, and once the infrastructure is in place there is a incentive to use it to regain some of the cost of the starship.  In any case, it is but one vision of the future.

Worldbuilding Rambles: Names, Technology, and Socio-technic maturity

Ages of Humanity

   One quintessential desire that lies at the heart of Humanity is a desire to give things names not entirely factual.  One example is in the naming of historical periods.  The 'Dark Ages', the 'bronze age', 'iron age', and 'information age', are preferred over a statement of dates being considered, even when a more specific descriptor might be better(one reason is probably that it is easier to remember names than dates).
   Now, the naming of historical periods is somewhat haphazard, but is often associated with a skill, technology, or trend specific to that time; each representing a level of technological maturity.  Thus we have the Stone Age, Bronze Age, Iron Age, Machine Age(Industrial Revolution), Age of Electronics, Space Age, Age of Information, and many more.  It appears that Human history on a global scale can be outlined as stages of technical progression.  It happens on a smaller scale with individual countries and cultures, although faster and with less consistently.

   For the author or worldbuilder this has interesting possibilities.  Suppose a Species/Planetary Civilisation had to pass through mastery of given technologies in order to profess to a certain level of social/cultural/economic development.  To become more than hunter/gatherers humanity needed to master stone, giving them better hunting and building tools, and weapons with which to defend their group/tribe against the less civilised(although it also implies that the uncivilised have a better method to attack).  Metal was needed to take the step toward technology, a material lasting, strong, and workable with reproducible results.  Without the steam age their could have been no Industrial Revolution, without that their might never have been global transport and communication, and practical science would have foundered for decades.  Some ages have died stillborn; the Atomic Age that was epitomised in works such as 2001: A Space Odyssey with its ubiquitous nuclear technology.  Some had no end, and are his widely unrecognised; it could be said that an Age of Mathematics began at the end of the Enlightenment, one that has continued to this day.

   Currently we have the Age of Information, connecting Earth's children together in a way never dreamed of before.  It was born out of the Age of Computers, and might help to give birth to a true Space Age,  since manned starflight seems unattainable without global cooperation.  Dawning is the Age of Carbon, as we begin to master the manipulation of carbon allotropes.


   Anyhow, that is enough rambling for one time.  Not very clear, I'll have to make a timeline graphic showing the progression of civilisation through the mastery of materials and technologies.  Anyone has ideas of what 'Ages' humanity has yet to pass through, please comment.  

Science Fiction Short # 1: The War

Image retrieved from http://www.magnoliabox.com/tag/Trojan%20War
on 18-5-2015

   Okay, something a little different this time.  Part of one unit I'm doing at the moment requires us to do an adaption of a ancient Greek or Roman myth/legend, and but it up in the public domain.  Being the person I am there was only one choice, the Trojan War in space.  I said it was a little different.  Anyway, I think it turned out OK so I decided to put it up here.  See if you can spot the parallels and changes between it and the original myth.  Loosely speaking the original could be taken to the version written by Apollodorus, although much of it was based on memory rather than on a text in front of me.

The War

========================================================================

Humanity spread to the stars, but some further and faster than others.  While the bulk of humanity remained much as it ever had, a small group set aside old conceptions of humanity and made themselves immortal.  They called themselves Olympians, and in time were almost godlike in power and knowledge.  Some of this knowledge they shared with the rest of the human race, in particular a life extension treatment.

   The treatment was a retrovirus, a engineered nano-machine that mimicked a part of the host’s body until it had entered every cell, inserted its ubiquitous code into the DNA of every replicating chain and banished old age and weakness forever.  It would not grant immortality, it could only stay ageing; it was enough.  Disease, accident, or the mind’s fatigue could still claim life, and did.  But it gave them time, time to rule well and justly.  Not just on their own worlds, but in every star system that harboured life.  

   For star travel is measured in decades, not hours like most journeys a human could undertake.  Relativity meant that a the crew of a starship would think only a few weeks had passed, only to return home and find their family dead, and the very skyline of their home lost in the past.  Few people were willing to undergo that loss, and so travellers were few, and the stars governed each themselves.  And that held humanity back.   

   Before the Immortals granted them this gift the rulers of each star system had no reason to cooperate.  The years of time lag in communication made remote negations for trade or peace impossible, and who can tract a disembodied voice.  Nor could a trusted negotiator be sent; by the time he returned his world would no longer exist.  For a man or woman whose years numbered in the hundreds the trip was at least endurable.  They had lives long enough that a return to a home unseen for fifty years would not cripple them; they had loved ones who lived just as long as they, people to who they would return.  They became the guardians and benefactors of humanity, calling themselves Speakers; that was what they did, speak for their people.

   It was a golden age for humanity, cooperation between star systems sparking efforts that would never have been dreamed of in ages past.  The Olympians, who before had been the driving force of humanity’s advance, now found themselves unneeded.  Most welcomed this, revelling in the race they had helped to bring to such glory.  Others, however, grew jealous of the decreased dependance of humanity on them, and sought revenge.  And so one of them prepared in secret a trap for humanity. 

   And in that trap they placed the ultimate bait: immortality.  The Olympians gained immortality with a method similar but more extreme than that used to prolong human life.  Instead of recoding the body they replaced it.  A swarm of nano-machines that would slowly turn the human body into an intricate machine of diamond, carbon, and rare metals.  They would never die of age, and few physical accidents could harm them irreparably.  Not only this but they gained far superior mental abilities, greater physical prowess than any mortal.

   The trap itself was simple.  A seamless casket of diamond, holding within it a golden apple, in truth a receptacle for the nano-machines that would grant unending life.  Though only to a few.  After the transformation the nano-machines must remain inside the new body, repairing it as a human body would have repaired itself.  There was in the casket perhaps enough nano-machines for two or three men.  Engraved on the casket were these words to the greatest and it was sent without explanation to the Council of Speaking, and gathering of all the greatest among the speakers.  And so the trap was sprung.

     Almost there was war, the first for a thousand generations.  For of all those gathered at that council none would name any but himself to receive the gift, and likewise there was not a single one among them willing to let another take it.  Argument erupted in what had been a place of rational council for many years.  Each of the forty Speakers making the case for himself, and against the others.  Debate turned to argument, argument to threats.  In orbit around the world where the council was held their ships began to charge their weapons and shields.

   There was one man, however, who still held onto reason.  Odysseus, who was known for his cunning and skill at diplomacy as much as his formidable talent in war.  Seeing that they would all loose if the crisis was not averted he proposed the only possible solution.  

   No one would have it.

   The casket and its apple of discord would be given into the keeping of someone chosen by all gathered there.  This person would hide the casket somewhere among the many uninhabited worlds of the galaxy, and would swear an oath never to reveal its presence to anyone.  Once very hundred years it would be brought from hiding and shown to them all so that it could be seen that the oath was kept.  None outside of the Olympians had the skill to make such a case, or even repair it once opened, so trickery would be nigh impossible.  Last, but not least, they would all swear to hut down anyone who attempted to use the casket to gain immortality.   

   After more argument the Speakers at last gave in to his plan, placing the golden apple into the care of Helen, one of the youngest Speakers, and trusted by all.  Proud as they were, and as hot as was their anger for each other, they were glad of a way to retreat with dignity once reason had returned.  They still mistrusted each other, but this would at least give them the security of knowing an army would be available that could crush any upstart.  For that had been the greatest fear.  A war cannot be fought over a hundred cubic light years of space, not even with a lifetime of centuries.  The times involved are to large; the civilisation that launched a constellation of starships would have been replaced by a new before they returned.  A hollow victory indeed.  But to an immortal that time is but the blink of an eye.  If once there was one man who could guide an assault over the centuries then none without that advantage would have a chance against them, in equal numbers.  Only with crouching force could they be defeated.  And Odysseus had made curtain that army would come.

   And so the threat passed, or so it seemed.  

   But the Olympian watched, cursing the name of Odysseus.  His plan had failed, but his life was long and men are fickle.  

  

= + = + =

   Most inhabited star systems in the Milky Way were not governed directly by the Speakers.  Their role was one of a trusted advisor, a diplomat, or a representative.  Only in matters that concerned two star systems did they have an official say, although there were few whose advice was not followed as though it were a legitimate command; despite their petty quarrelling they were leaders, and humanity knew it.  It was only in a few systems that this arrangement was replaced by one in which the Speaker held a position within the formal government at the highest level.  Most of the systems that did so were in fact group together in the Troy cluster, many light decades away from the nearest inhabited system.  There they held absolute power and although they ruled as well as any government among the democratic systems, they were dictators nonetheless.  Partly because of this, and partly because of the distance between them and the other systems there was little love lost between the Speakers of Troy and those of the democratic systems.  So it had happened that they knew nothing of the casket until they heard it from the Olympian himself.  

   He came to them posing as on of the wandering librarians, an organisation dedicated to the dissemination of knowledge among the countless inhabited systems.  Each librarian travelled on a small starship along with a handful of assistants, often humans who wished to see the stars more than they feared the effects of time dilation.  In any system they came across they would download the system’s information net backups, storing it in deep archives aboard the starship.  Then they would leave for another star, where that information would be passed to another culture, an different civilisation, and more received.  So valued was the art, science, literature, mathematics, and songs of distant culture that anywhere they went the librarians were welcomed, their starship refuelled and repaired free of charge.

   When the Olympian’s ship braked into orbit about the sun of their capital planet they had no reason to believe he was anything other than what he claimed.  Even his own crew had no inkling of his true intent.  And in all respects but one he might well have been what he said.  The data he brought with him was all real, gathered in the same way as it would have been by a Librarian, except for the matter of the golden apple and the quarrel of the three.  Anything to do with that matter he changed subtly.  Every record of the event, every reference, every comment.  All the words that had been written, all the visual footage, every byte of data was revised and refined to suit his plans.  Without saying a word he would lie to billions, and they would believe him.  Why should they not?

   It was a intricate plan, more complexed than the mind that wrought it, and the Olympian feared that it would fail as had his earlier attempt.  But it was not to be so.  This time all went as he had planned.  The poisoned data was downloaded, he accepted a upload and departed.  The people of the Trojan systems began to search the information, and within a year someone had brought to the attention of Priam, the Dictator, the matter of the golden apple.  And he and his people learnt - as was true - that a Olympian had attempted so sew discord among Humanity with the offer of immortality for a few, and that it had almost brought war.  But they also learnt - or thought they did - that the oath had been sworn as w way for them all to save face, not as a reals precaution.  

   Priam was old, and wise.  His sons, Hector and Paris, both urged him to seek out the casket and use its contents to make their people strong; he refused.  He had no desire for immortality, nor any desire to give to any mortal the chance to wage war without fear of defeat.  Hector heed his council but Paris, firebrand that he was, took a starship and left of his own accord, determined to find the casket.  

   He knew that he could not make any move to take it by force, any incursion into another system would be taken as an act of war, and that he must avoid at all cost if he was to succeed.  Likewise violence would not get the location of the casket from its keeper Helen.  Like many politicians or military officials with secrets worth more than their lives she would have fitted a monitoring chip into her brain which would detonate on command, or if she attempted to divulge protected information under duress.  The only way would be to convince her.  Arguments regarding the good that could come from studying the nano-machines, proofs of the good will of his father Priam.  He gathered reasons that might sway her to his cause.  They were not needed.

   He caught up with her in a star system close to the one in which the Speakers would next meet, an event only a few years away.  Learning this he let it be known that it was also his destination and as he had hoped she soon made contact with him.  Almost a year aboard a starship can grow tedious, and whenever possible the Speakers would travel with strangers in order to combat boredom.  It also presented a way for them to get to know the people with whom they would work for humanity’s best interests.

   But something unexpected happened on that journey.  They fell in love.  For Paris it was at first no more than a way to get closer to his prise, and for her it was a means to get some little enjoyment out of the weary journey.  But at the end of the time aboard Helen had agreed to go back to the Troy cluster with him, after the assembling Speakers had verified that the casket was still intact.  They kept it a secret, Helen fearing that the Speakers would be set against it.  And so when he gathering dispersed she slipped aboard his ship and they fled out into deep space, taking a path that lead them outside of any possible interception.     

   When they reached the Troy cluster Paris was met with rage by his father and brother.  Nor did it help his cause that, unknown to him, Helen had hidden the casket before coming aboard his ship.  Priam feared that the oath might be taken seriously, even with the clear signs that the Librarian’s information had given them.  That it should he so without even the gain of the casket did little to increase Paris’s popularity.  Paris, on his part, was confident that there would be no pursuit, especially since Helen had left word that she would continue to safeguard the casket; and that the speakers would only go to war it direct threatened, and even then not as a unified force.  He was wrong.

   Hardly had it Helen’s flight been discovered than the Speakers met to decide on the best course of action.  The oath aside they feared that if the Dictator Priam should become immortal then democracy in the galaxy would eventually die, even without deliberate hostile action on Priam’s part.  They were divided as to whether or not Helen would keep the secret.  The fact that she had fled in secret instead of turning custody of it over to another did not inspire confidence, even if it could be explained away as rash pride.  Eventually it was decided that they could not afford to take the chance, and the oath was invoked.  From all over the galaxy starships began to gather, armed will all the weapons of war.

   Among many of the Speakers the desire was for a unannounced attack.  Even though it would be seen coming from light years away the velocity of a interstellar fleet meant that they could sweep an entire system clear in one pass with only kinetic weapons.  However, there would be few survivors.  Once again Odysseus raised a voice of reason, and convinced them to let him go ahead to attempt to bargain for Helen and avert the war.

   It was not to be.

   Priam and Hector acknowledged that Helen could be considered to have broken her oath, that she was a defector, and that they should hand her back.  But they also refused to impose their will on Paris, whose heart was too firmly fixed on Helen to ever give her up.  Helen herself feared having to leave him, and having been marked an outlaw by her people, announced that she considered herself Trojan, and as such would not hand over the location of the casket, although she would also keep it from her own people.  The ambassadors of the speaks were no less proud and unyielding.  They demanded that Helen be returned, and Paris he punished.  The treaty meeting turned ugly, and it was only thanks to a Trojan who opposed both sides of the conflict that the delegation escaped alive.

   So war came.  A war that had its beginning in the trickery of a disgruntled immortal.  That was enflamed by fear.  That was sparked by an untimely love.  And kindled by unyielding pride.  A war that would last ten centuries, and from which only one in a thousand would return.

Errors in SF Worldbuilding: Flame-throwers

WHY?

   None has ever accused Hollywood of being scientifically accurate or logical, but some things they can never seem to get right.  For science fiction fans - hard SF especially - the biggest issues are with technology, and most of all, with weapons.  I'm not talking about the lack of reloading and gun safety, the horrible techniques and tactics in gunfights, but rather the actual choice of weapons.  While grenade launchers, miniguns, handguns, and sniper rifles are all regularly abused flame-throwers are frequently the worst offenders.
   Within SF as a whole one genre suffers particularly from the misuse of flame-throwers; Horror.  Sometimes it seems that every second SF horror/thriller movie where the antagonist is an alien or monster fire is its main weakness.
   And that seems reasonable, yes?  Animals are in general afraid of fire, so why not monsters?  Also, the damage caused by a flame-thrower is truly horrific, rivalled only grenades or concentrated machine-gun fire, so it seems a good choice to take down a nigh invulnerable opponent.  Where and when they are used is a little more difficult to accept.

Divergence from Reality

   Flame-throwers in the real world are slightly different to their Hollywood kin.  Almost exclusively used by militaries during the World Wars for clearing bunkers, machinegun nests, and occasionally against tanks, real steel flamethrowers are cumbersome and dangerous.    They are also useless in confined spaces; when used against a bunker they were always fired from outside, as seen in Saving Private Ryan.

   The range of the flame, and the area of effect are governed by the nozzle of the weapon, and the pressures used to pump the fuel.  A spray of fuel will produce a short, intense flame, closer to a directed fireball than anything else.  This would be perfect for clearing machinegun nests or close targets, and is the form most often seen in movies.  This is also closer to the propane/gas fuel devices used for controlled burning in several areas of agriculture.
   Another mode, really seen, is when the fuel is pumped out in a cohesive stream, seen in the lower image to the left, allowing much greater range; it could also coat the target in burning fuel, rather than just flames, making it effective against vehicles.  It is actually a burning stream of fuel, rather than the fireball produced by a spray-type nozzle.
Finally, they carried only a few seconds worth fuel, and that only by using large backpack style tanks.  These tanks, unlike the movie portrayal, did not easily explode from enemy weapons fire, but where significantly heavier than most other weapons systems, restricting the soldiers agility.
 

Examples

Alien & Aliens

   Quite apart from the question of why the cargo tug Nostromo was carrying flame-throwers aboard the 'flame units' shown in this iconic film suffered from the usual failings.  First up the fuel tanks were to small, and even if they were under massive pressure, or contained liquid gas, would not carry enough to fire for the length of time seen in the movie.  Of course, it could just be that we are never shown the tanks being replaced.  Secondly is its use inside the spacecraft.  Aside from the inevitable damage to electrical wiring and other systems the flame-thrower would rapidly consume the oxygen in the room.  While the life support system might be able to replace it fast enough to save the crew's lives, the chances are that after a few bursts of flame they would have fainted from oxygen deprivation.  This would also have killed Dallas in the ducts long before the xenomorph got him, if the sheer temperature of the flame did not do so.  Aliens suffered almost identical problems; namely burn time and usage in close quarters, although it was handled a lot better than in many movies.

The Thing 

   Although The Thing showed a flamethrower with realistic fuel tanks, it still understated the danger of using one inside a confined space.  Unusually for the movies that feature them, there is actually a reason for an arctic base to have flamethrowers, as they can be used to rapidly melt accumulations of snow and ice in an emergency - although as far as I can tell no current arctic base does have them on hand.  That given it is likely that the flamethrower is a weaker than nomad version, making it possible to use inside a building without setting the entire room on fire.  However, it would likely cause severe problems through lack of oxygen in the minutes after its use, and the danger of the fires it starts cannot be overestimated.


Conclusion

   While it is far from the worst world building in it is possible to commit, the unrealistic use of flame-throwers in SF is one that should be easy enough to avoid for the author prepared to put some effort into research.  That being said, flamethrowers are cool, so it is a forgivable error.  If you are trying to create a visually impressive film/movie/animation/etc. then a flamethrower gives a lot of bang for the buck.  A writer, especially if looking to edge in on 'hard SF' should consider it long and carefully.

   But when xenomorphs come knocking, we all know the only true solution is: KILL IT WITH FIRE.