Submitted for Approval

Ship:
Ship Name: Foundry Hephaestus, Auxillaries and Shuttles

Created by Nicholas Casler (Wiregeek, Kokuten)
Registry Number:HSF prefix indicates Hephaestus Space Fleet.
Shuttles: The HSF incorporates two 'fast shuttles', 'wavemodded conventional automobiles, with AI cores onboard. Both of these vehicles are capable of self drive and are fully autonomous.
Millie: HSF-006 'Millie' is an AI controlled 4-door sedan dispatch boat, with integrated airlock dividers, allowing any of the three compartments to remain pressurized while others are exposed to vaccum.
Chassis: Millie is based off of a 1983 Subaru GL wagon. She's not the best looking or fastest vehicle in space, but she's reliable, she can park on a dime and bring back change, and she's Here to Help.
AI Core: Millie was intended to be a greek goddess, but the AI core generated as a perky blonde secretary, professional and dedicated. Millie isn't a supergenius, but she's more than capable enough to motor her chassis around Fenspace's docks and yards without any trouble.
Drive: Speed, Max velocity .1c, Adjusted Mass reactionless rotor, transverse mounted.
Known Vehicle Quirks:
* I'm a GIRL, that's why!: Millie's AI core is female, emphatically so. As of yet, this has posed no problems with romantic entanglements, but she tends to avoid having to dispose of vermin or lift truly heavy objects, this is what boys are for, after all.
* I may not be a supermodel, but...: Millie is aware that her chassis isn't the 'pinnacle of automotive engineering', but she still likes to look her best. Keeping her in good tires and keeping the paint clean and polished are a necessity. If the interior and exterior are not well-kept and maintained on a regular basis, Millie will lose efficiency and speed.
* Oh BOYS!: Millie is quite fond of the 'Boys', Hephaestus' small fleet of 'waved Suburbans, and they're quite fond of her. Fond enough that if she calls, the poor devil loading a ton or two of rich steel slag into the back of one of the Boys may find himself working alone, while a pseudo-intelligent Suburban careens across the system barking happily and heading for his girl.
* "Grunt!": Millie retains one of the quirks of her basic chassis, and can handle and haul several times her normal payload or rated capacity, but she _doesn't like it_. She also is top-speed limited, and depending on the amount of overload, her top speed can drop to as low as .05c
Faction: Hephaestian, Millie knows who her Boss is, and will not consider other offers of employment.
Home Port: HSF-000 Hephaestus.
Status: ACTIVE
Trivia:
* Millie's AI Core is unique amongst Hephaestus' cadre of AI and pseudo-intelligent personell in that it was spawned from non-Wintel hardware, a mac Powerbook modified into her dash console and wired into the car system.
* Even though Millie is the chronologically and experientially older of the two, she thinks of and treats Vioarr as an older sister, and is fairly intimidated by her.

Vioarr: HSF-009 'Vioarr' is an AI-controlled 2-door sport coupe, with similar airlocking capabilities to her sister Millie.
Chassis: "V" is based off a 1999 Mitsubishi 3000gt VR4, with Dodge Stealth badging. She's fast fast FAST, and very hard to see when she doesn't want to be. Her shell is variable reflectivity, on all wavelengths from IR to multi-ghz microwave. She also has 'store and forward' invisibility capability.
AI Core: V was CarPC'ed from an 8-way cluster of low-power VIA setups, bossed by a quad-core Intel machine. The resulting AI is almost disgustingly frugal in energy usage, but tends to multitask on an instinctual level, which works out beautifully with her normal operationals.
Drive: Speed, Max Velocity .12c,sustained, .13c burst (causes heat accumulation), .132c 'full burn' (sacrifices thrusters in addition to burst mode, no heat. Dual Adjusted Mass reactionless rotor, Lithium-Polymer-Handwavium backup pack. Acceleration, backup propulsion is low-ob liquid Nos thrusters, good for 'some' manuevering and accel without energy signature.
Known Vehicle Quirks:
* I can outrun that, I can outrun _anything_: V is a very swift ship, but she's not the fastest thing in Fen space, and that's a sore spot with her. Unless she's 'on a job', V is a sucker for a race, and her agility and multitasking serve her in good stead pushing through the asteroids.
* Hey, look over there! *poof*: V is a stealth platform by primary design. When found, she's fond of cheap sucker ploys and overcomplicated gambits to lose her observer, but is not above simple misdirection or distraction. Whatever works.
* Stupid big galoot, get off me!: Publicly, V is less than fond of Hephaestus' flock of Suburbans, but they love her almost as much as they love her 'younger' sister. In private, when she thinks noone is looking, V will 'pet' or play with the Boys.
* Uhm, you're gonna put that _Where?_: V's trunk is half Adjusted Mass rotor, half tankage for the NOS thrusters. The backseat has been given over to lithium-ion pack and electronics. The passenger seat is cramped in by displays and auxillary controls, and the driver's seat is the only truly open seating. Cargo capability isn't just limited, it's vestigal.
Faction: Hephaestian, if you'd like her to turn her coat, don't be surprised if you somehow end up working for Hephaestus as well.. Girl's _wicked_.
Home Port: HSF-000 Hephaestus.
Status: ACTIVE
Trivia:
* V's AI Core could have gone schizo during Quickening - but it didn't. She's a remarkably stable single personality that happens to be capable of multithreaded thought, as well as 'focussed multithread' on a single problem. This giver her incredible versatility with her processing, but leaves a possible vulnerability to personality fragmenting either by attack, or under extreme stress.
* Even though Millie is the chronologically and experientially older of the two, V thinks of her as a younger sister, due to her less worldly outlook.
* V looks forward to this whole 'no handwavium weapons' thing being worked around, because she has dreams of silenced long-range sniper shots. Doc Raven has blocked her access to the John Ringo and David Marcinko, but her obsession remains.

Tenders: The HSF is also home to a 'flock' of seven Chevy Suburbans, of varying years and personailities. 'Waved ECMs and auxillary processors ended up providing a 'big dumb dog' level of intelligence for these vessels, and they are used as the day-to-day 'work trucks' of Hephaestus' mining operations. When the two shuttles are spoken for or busy, a Hephaestian Suburban may be seen in public, usually with someone playing fetch in the parking lot while someone else accomplishes the errand in question.

Chassis: The Boys are based off of the Chevy Suburban utility vehicle chassis. They're big, they're not very subtle, but they can haul a whole LOT of stuff. The boys are all airlocked with standard Hephaestian Zipperlocks, and vary in color and body style cues.
AI Core: The boys were a 'punt' AI. After the 'Cat' experience, Hephaestus' crew decided that the somewhat self-motivated and somewhat-personality of the Cat could be improved upon 'just a little', to provide a very easy to use and efficient mining tender. So, the original Chevy ECM was handwaved, soaked overnight in a tub of pure strain with a copy of Disney's "Beethoven" movies. Similar treatment was given to a Sony in-dash media player, and the resultant items were installed in short order, into a 'waved Suburban. The result was seven "Big Doofy Dog" Suburbans, more than willing to get in harness and pull, but they'd like to talk to you about this tennis ball (radial tire, small lump of iron, Space Hamster) that they found...
Drive: Speed, Max velocity .08c, Adjusted Mass reactionless rotor.
Known Vehicle Quirks:
* GIRL!: The Boys are quite defensive of and fond of Hephaestus' two shuttles, and will obey/help them over the desires of human personnel.
* "Grunt!": The boys are capable of hauling pretty much anything that can be loaded into them or chained to them. Being a canine level intelligence, and well trained, they can also pull together in harness. Hephaestus has yet to find something too heavy to haul, heavier things just.. take a little longer to get going.
* Land Shark: Small fast-moving objects of appropriate size are considered 'play items' to the boys, and they may break orders and attempt to play with them. Unless you have VERY good body armor and inertial shielding, don't be a small moving object. The boys won't intentionally hurt someone, but 4000 pounds of Suburban is a whole LOT of love, and there is _seven_ of them.
Faction: Hephaestian, the Boys pick up on the 'smell' of the people and ships that live and work out of Hephaestus, and tend to not obey people who don't smell right.
Home Port: HSF-000 Hephaestus.
Status: ACTIVE
Trivia:
* The Boys are individually named after the Seven Dwarves of Snow White fame. This was in an attempt to make them more 'mining oriented', and does not appear to have worked in the slightest.
* The Boys are not able to appear in public unescorted. They're just too damn dumb, and the amount of damage that can be caused by a Suburban who thinks your converted Winnebago looks 'cozy', or your flying VW looks like a chew toy, doesn't bear thinking of.
*The Boys spontaneously reinforced their hoods and assimilated part of the grills into them during their 'waving. They may not have that durable of a jaw, relatively speaking, but they have jaws, and they do use them. The installation of synthetic myomer actuators for the hoods is regretted, but it's a bit late, and the boys do love to play fetch...
Edit: corrected speed ratings, added quirks to VWire Geek - Burning the weak and trampling the dead since 1979Wire Geek - Burning the weak and trampling the dead since 1979

18:37 GMT 30 June 2011
Near the Asteroid Belt

"So what's so hard about getting an asteroid to Earth?"

"Yeah! We can do this ourselves - we don't need to pay those Rockhound chiselers what they want to do the job!"

"Sergei's got his car chained to the tow cables, and ... it's on the way!"

There was a chorus of cheers from the enterprising Fen who had decided to put their very own space base in Earth orbit, to compete with The Island.

Then there was an explosion in Sergei's ship. His friends watched in horror as his lifeless body floated out of the new hole in the top of his car... which didn't slow down.

I've been on a Sailor Moon kick recently, but aside from Strike Fiss's Sailor Moon: Omoi series, i've been having rather poor luck at finding anything engrossing to read, and given the huge variety of experience and depth of knowledge of the subject of fanfiction here, I was hoping for some suggestions? What in your opinion are the best Sailor Moon stories out there?

Something that popped up on the FFML this weekend reminded me of a fic that I lost when I accidentally nuked my carry-around archives about 18 months ago. I haven't had too much luck trying to find it with Google, so I thought I'd throw a description out to see if people recognize it and can point me at a copy.
It's a Ranma-is-split-into-boy-and-girl story, but it starts off well after that happened. "Ranko" got sick of basically being treated like garbage and headed off on her own. The story actually starts with Akane finding Ranko and telling her that Ranma needs a kidney transplant, and Ranko's the only viable donor. Ranko throws her out, but ends up secretly going and offering her kidney. Dr. Tofu's involved, and maneuvers things so that the secret's blown, and Ranko gets pulled back into her apologetic family. Still, the one thing Ranko really wants she can't have -- Akane. Akane solves this using Instant Jusenkyo and Happosai's incense burner, and the story ends with two happy couples: Ranma-Akane and Male Akane-Ranko.
Anyone have any ideas?
-- Bob
---------
...The President is on the line
As ninety-nine crab rangoons go by...

I did say in the other thread that I wasn't on much of late. But I popped in this morning with Lora'Lai and found that we had the prestige to do some major renovations. You won't see much difference yet - but the entire plot has been expanded. I intend to open up a new wing off of the main entrance hall soon. In going through stuff I noticed an old in-game e-mail from Wide Receiver that I had somehow COMPLETELY missed, and I'm sorry about that. In regards to that, expect to see as part of the expansion an arcane enhancement table or two.
What we're going to need right now is a LOT of prestige to make this happen, though. We really _can't_ expand into the new wing without more power generation. Don't worry about control. That's covered. But the generator is straining to keep up with what we've already got. I already have a turbine generator ready to go and space enough to put it in, but the actual placement cost is about a million away now. I could ALMOST place the damn thing already, but there was no way to make it fit on the old plot without giving up major portions of what we already have. And I'm loathe to do that. Just as soon as we've got the prestige, I can place the turbine and start opening up the new wing.
One of the things I want to do is consolidate our teleporters into a couple of large rooms, instead of spread out like they are. As well as the workshops. I want ONE large workshop instead of 2-3 rooms. With the expansion, we've got enough room to juggle things around and reorient things without losing equipment in the process.
So... get on your mid-level range characters and turn on Supergroup mode and go bash some bad guys! Or those of you at level 50, go do a Shadow Shard Task Force or something. And we'll have some cool new stuff in a couple of weeks to a month!-Logan
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"This kind of thing tends invariably to devolve into the kind of "No, Nakajima, THIS is true power!!" argument that only really works if you're yelling it from the cockpit of a giant robot . . ."
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... But World of Warcraft has been eating my free time. With the new expansion coming up, I've been getting more involved trying to gear up my level 60 Warrior so as to be able to explore beyond the Dark Portal without being at too great a disadvantage. Been doing Dungeon runs with guild members and tying up loose ends in quest turn ins and the like. Getting stuff ready for an Onyxia raid, etc.
I still love CoH and intend to keep playing and all, but if you don't see much of me the next couple of weeks, you'll know why. ^_^-Logan
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"This kind of thing tends invariably to devolve into the kind of "No, Nakajima, THIS is true power!!" argument that only really works if you're yelling it from the cockpit of a giant robot . . ."
-----------------

Just a req for an origin story/ship registry entry for World Watch One - it ties into my lifting.Wire Geek - Burning the weak and trampling the dead since 1979

Dynamistress from our coalition partners Liberty F.O.R.C.E. just sent me an email saying that LF is trying to strengthen its ties to coalition members, and that she's been assigned the position of liaison with The Legendary. She wants to know who her main contact with the Legendary -- her counterpart -- will be so she can establish contact with them.
Now I can do this, except my schedule doesn't always let me play Eva as much as I'd want to. I gave Dynamistress Shizuru and Lora'Lai's names as contacts for now (in addition to me), but I wanted to see if anyone was interested in taking on a specific duty as our liaison to the LF. So... any volunteers?
-- Bob
---------
...The President is on the line
As ninety-nine crab rangoons go by...

Not all us fen want to be in space, you know. Folks like me, say, who get airsick real easy. 'Sides, I like my creature comforts. Those fenships tend to be a bit cramped. 'Cept for those folks from West Virginia. Now they had the right idea.
Anyway, there's a lot of us. The fen in space don't think highly of us, I know. They call us "fendane", like we were something less than proper fen because we didn't pack up everything and take off for orbit in an 82 Ford, because we're not out there working on the Mars terraform. Well let me tell you, bud, sometimes it's harder to stay at home and change the world you know than to travel halfway across the system and change a world you've never seen before.
I'm not the only one to feel that way. There are a lot of folks who share my opinion, folks who think the balance of goverment and people has shifted to someplace where the government and its cronies in industry and organized crime have all started thinking of the people as their little toys and servants. There are a lot of folks who want to see that changed. We're not putting anything "back the way it was" -- most of us aren't fool enough to think things were much better in the past, and some of us are historians enough to know it was pretty damned worse at times. Doesn't matter. There's an idea involved -- the same one behind the Declaration, behind the Constitution, the one that got shoved aside as soon as the Government settled down into "business as usual".
We aim to change that. And not by gallivanting out in space.
The folk in space do have a few good ideas. Front companies, foundations, things like that. We set one up. One of the things we did with the 'wave made us a lot of money fast. (Not going to tell you what it is, because we're still going to be using it every once in a while.) We put that money into a not-for-profit group of our own making, a cross between a charity and a college, sort of. We didn't name it what we actually call it, that would be a dead giveaway. It was enough that it just existed.
Then we, as the foundation, got busy. Built us a couple supercomputers with the 'wave, complete with AIs. Used them to worm our way into a few systems here and there. Changed a few records. Hid a few people from the eye of officialdom. Righted a few wrongs while we were at it.
And we bought us a bunch of used cars. Trans Ams from the early 1980s. Refurbished them. Kitted them out, you might say. And waved the lot.
And now they're on the road, criss-crossing the country, righting wrongs and fighting the kind of folks who want power over other folks. Their drivers don't exist, not in government records anyway. Neither do the cars. Our AIs with their hooks in the DMV systems all over the country make sure of that. But the people recognize them when they come to town. And they know what name to give them.
They call them the Knight Riders.

Christmas time is here.. Time for Joy, and time for Cheer..
I stared blankly at the plain brown wrapper on the coffee-can sized package the postal clerk had handed me earlier. I had an idea what was in it, and I wasn't sure how I felt about it.
In the aftermath of That Con, a friend of mine had privately admitted to having a small supply of 'wavium, pure strain, before the guacamole incident. I'd asked her for some, and crossed her palm with the thirty piece of silver for shipping, and a few more for her trouble.
No problem there, I make damn good money fiddling with radios for a local utility.
But now I had a can of Handwavium. Some people were saying this was the new Messiah, magic come to earth, a grey goo nightmare waiting to happen, the story was different depending on who you asked and how much they had been drinking. I thought it was possibliity in a jar, myself.
I retired to the garage, and firing up a cigarette, I started unpacking the 'glass and steel' bins and buckets from my ill-fated alcohol-based-rocket-fuel-production experiment, idly wondering if that corner of the yard would ever grow grass again as I did so. Once I had my tools out, I set the can on my stainless steel bench and unwrapped it.
The coffee can size and shape made perfect sense now, with the bright and cheerful 'Folgers' logo staring back at me. The lid was duct-taped on rather agressively, and I cut it off carefully, removing the tape and lid to reveal.. a quiescent grayish ooze, with no movement or changes to indicate anything.

I decanted the ooze into a glass tun and considered my next step...

A YEAR LATER.
I heaved the head off the big Cat Diesel and set it gently on a rollycart, then scrubbed and wiped until the engine ahead of me was clean and bright. Reaching into the cylinders with a brush, I spread on a thin layer of 'Wavium Black, a strain I had fed on motor oil, premium unleaded, trucking magazines and Bob the Builder episodes. Coating the inside of all six cylinders carefully, I then applied traces of 'Silver', a blend fed on golden age Silver Surfer comics and cut with elemental mercury and activated charcoal.
My mind fixated on what I hoped would happen, I got down under the motor and sprayed off the motor oil from the crankshaft, repeating the same process as the cylinders. A couple of additional areas got the treatment, and I started bolting covers and 'wavium treated gaskets on as I cleaned up. The sun went down and the temperature started to drop as I finished bolting the head back on the big Diesel, and I was shivering as I unplugged the ECM and headed back to the shop.
In the heated, well lit shop, I considered the ECM, unsure what was going to happen next. I had developed a few strains of Handwavium for specific mechanical applications, but I had nothing going that seemed appropriate for computers or computing power. I decided on a course of action, and put the little engine computer module in a small sorting tub, bedding it on pages ripped out of a heavy equipment wholesale catalog that ran fairly heavy on stories and reviews. I drew a can of base 'Wavium from one of my holding tanks, and poured a layer into the tub, filling it a touch above the ECM.
I said a quick prayer under my breath, still unsure as to whom or what I was praying, and shut off the lights. I fired up the pickup and headed home, worried and hopeful about the next day.

Ten acres won't improve itself, so it was with a happy grin and a hot coffee that I greeted Sparky as I arrived at the land the next day. He'd already been at work, and the happily grumbling Cat he climbed down from seemed to indicate that my work had at least 'not failed'.
"Morning Sparky, the Cat seems to be running good today"
"Yeah, boss, but that new ECM didn't fit into the old brackets, I had to fabricate one this morning"
I nodded sagely, masking a deep and shivery excitement. We walked over to the idling Cat, and as I laid my hand on the engine compartment cover, I swear she leaned into my hand and purred. Sparky gave me a curious look as I, with a shit-eating grin, opened the compartment and checked the fit of Sparky's new bracket, which was perfect. The ECM was now bright yellow, and signifigantly longer, with a large Cat logo on it's upper side. I reached forward and scratched it behind the connector, and the Cat shivered in pleasure, it's engine note dropping to just above 'stall'.
I grinned at Sparky and explained what I'd been up to last night, and he shook his head in disbelief.. and the work of clearing the land went a lot faster, with a Cat that thought it was a cat, and needed ear-scritches and pets as well as diesel and hydraulic oil, but seemed to have almost doubled it's available pushing power.

Ten acres isn't much land, I reflected that evening over reindeer sausage and sourdough biscuits. Between me and Sparky, the rought layout we'd been working on sat, areas in green highlighting our current progress.
"At this rate we're going to be working all through this winter.. finish up in early '09", Sparky said, digging into his own plate.
"Yeah, but we can at least pour the cement this winter, it's Portland, it'll cure."
"Roof over the cut and heat it?" Sparky asked, and we fell into the comfortable shorthand of two old friends, discussing our strategic goals.
Spring, '09
The basic shapes and structures were finished. A near-square rectangle of land, the edges walled in a 'Wavium based cement we called 'Grunt', because it ended up being so damn heavy and strong. We figured the three-meter thick border we had put on the land could take anything short of a city-killer kinetic energy weapon, and we weren't too sure it couldn't take that, this stuff was _tough_. A one-foot square pillar spurred off the wall had resisted everything we had, including 'Kitty', the 'waved Cat 936 wheel loader that had been the backbone of our work, and was the matriarch of our little fleet of construction and work vehicles.
various hangars and structures dotted the landscape, all enclosed in the foot-thick 'roof pillars' that traced our boundaries. I bumbled along the access road in one of the few un'waved vehicles in the fleet, an old Suzuki ATV, and considered. Ten acres, tons of cement, hundreds of gallons of diesel and thousands of dollars, every scrap of money I could beg or borrow. My father, and Sparky's father had both taken out second mortgages to pay for equipment and supplies.. We were committed, perhaps overcommitted, financially. Without some financial help and advice from other Fen, we could easily end up in a world of hurt.
I saw the gate rising, and bumbled my way over.. maybe this was the carbon fiber strakes for the overhead dome..

It was. a whole bloody lot of ten-foot carbon fiber rods, light and strong, and a truckload of bracketting and assembly tools for them. We had developed a plan based around the willow huts used by some of the Native peoples, and we were fairly confident in it's success. Given that even willow grew far too slow for our current timetable, we'd decided to use a signifigantly faster growing plant that was almost as strong.
The Fireweed sprouts were coming along nicely, and we staked each one with carbon fiber stakes, tying the plants with nylon ties and coating with handwavium. Dusting the whole assemblage with carbon fiber dust and praying, I moved right along.
The day was still young, so I cruised down to the engine bay. Drawn from innumerable anime and sci-fi shows and my own fevered mind, the engine was a Whedonesque rotating nightmare, turning over just above idle now to provide electricity and airflow for the rest of the complex. I considered the massive spindle, checking the battery levels and fuel flows and status indicators. Given how the engine responded to near-constant attention, I needed to get a maintenance officer down here. Who was I kidding, I needed a Kaylee...

Everything was coming together. Assuming the 'grow-a-dome' theory worked out, we'd be ready to go by september. And, so far, noone had so much as sneezed at the building and working we'd done. We were far enough out that cops and feds weren't welcome, and there was enough other constructiong going that we had remained unnoticed.. so far.
soon. I patted the engine gently, looking forward to the day when it would crank over hard, bringing us out of the 'surly bonds of earth' and into the Out There...Wire Geek - Burning the weak and trampling the dead since 1979