Sirius is a rather odd place when it comes to ship building technologies. Every designer or manufacturer claim their work is superior to everyone else's in every way, and that they have succeeded in designing or building the best spaceships there is. Thinking about it though, that's just human nature and is in no way limited to Sirius or ship building or technology. A wise man once said everyone thinks they're special, and that they deserve to be treated special. That wise man was a privateer for the queen of Bretonia, and needless to say, he died a horrible death sometime between the war with Kusari and the Gallic invasion. No one really knows what happened to him as he just went missing, but he was a privateer for the queen of Bretonia, so needless to say, he most certainly died a horrible death sometime between the wa-... wait, we've been there already. Nevermind.
Anyways, what I'm trying to say is, in a universe where everyone is special - or think they are - no one is, and so a man's options are rather limited if he decides to stand out. In a universe where everyone is special and so no one is, a man can only be unique. Now, being a man of unique style is not an easy task to accomplish, and while most people think the man needs intelligence, reputation, taste, humor and whatnot, in reality all the man needs is money, lots of it, and legitimate or not doesn't matter. Though, an awfully rich intelligent humorous gentleman with a good reputation, like me, would certainly have the upper-hand compared to them Libertonians who own the LPI and just got the money, but still, as they say there's nothing money can't buy.
After the great economical crisis of 814 A.S., no one's been truly and by definition "rich" anymore, cause everyone got money and those who didn't have most probably either starved to death already or are harvesting Cardamine on Malta, so the world is devided between people who've got loads of money, and people who've got so much money that spending it all in one lifetime would not be humanly possible. While most of the latter either go into charity or die rich bastards after miserably shallow lives and have the coffin they order cost more than a spaceship, there are very few who've actually realized that having too much money to spend means only one thing - It'll go to waste if you don't waste it.
Cartagena Shipyard was not the most prestigious of places, but it was filled with people who knew what they were doing, and that was what he liked about that base. Knowing even complete strangers can be trusted under certain circumstances long as there's enough ‘pesos’ involved, he knew the dedication of his new team of engineers was something he could count on, but as common courtesy in any social interaction dictates, a casually polite letter of encouragement never hurts as a starting incentive.
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Everyone fly at least one ship throughout their lives, and everyone fly it to shoot down other ships, so no matter the ship you fly, it needs to have one quality – It needs to be worth flying. “What makes a ship worth flying?” you may ask, the answer is simple – Style, elegancy, and of course distinctiveness. You don’t need to get your hands on the ‘best ship ever made’ to know somewhere deep inside it’s worth flying. All you need to feel is that the ship is ‘yours’.
Old times were better. They always are. There were people around who had taste, who had style; People who didn’t fly any ship they could get their hands on just because that ship had a killer of a reputation. The times pass though, and people change. This new generation of tasteless, styleless, spineless miserable excuses of pilots who just look for the ‘best’ ship around the very moment they can afford a ship would most certainly understand none of it, and it’s our fault – If we had showed them what actual style means, they would’ve never degraded to such a level to fly such eye-soars like that new borderworlds boat.
Now, where was I? Right. A ship needs to have style, and that’s all it needs. It obviously needs guns too, but that’s beside the point. Have you ever looked at a ship and from the very first moment you saw it you knew you’d never be satisfied flying anything else? That’s my Roc. She’s been good to me for the past years, and she lacks nothing, but when it comes to making a dream-ship, sky’s the limit – as the old saying goes. Now, dear reader, if you’re reading this, means you’ve been included in a particular deal a fine gentleman and I made on Malta not long ago, and despite my utmost gratitude for your understanding and willingness to cooperate, trust me – I’m as big of a douche as one can get when it comes to official business, so don’t feel offended if you’re mistreated in the upcoming months, it’s nothing personal.
Anyways, let’s cut through all the crap and get straight to the point – You managed to build a ship to rival the Sairs’ Gladiator, only cause an anonymous individual managed to grab the blueprints and toss ‘em your way, and even though you’ve done a marvelous job after you got the prints, with me being that anonymous individual I believe you owe me one. I was pretty impressed when I first saw the design you could pull off with those blueprints, and to be frank, a bunch like you is what I’ve been looking for lately.
Roc is a marvelous ship, and one could ask for nothing more when flying a Roc. She’s perfection in every way, except for one – She’s overused and abused by every random corporate scum and his blind dog. None of them can use her right, but nonetheless, I feel offended every single time I see a rookie flying the same ship as me. So, what can you do to help me here, you may ask, and the answer is simple – I’ve always been a man of taste, and despite all the ideas I’ve gathered in these past few years, I lack the technical knowledge and the means to actually try out those ideas, which is why I’m relying on your expertise to make one ship really worth flying out of the good old Roc.
It’s not every day one approaches you with such an unusual request, is it? So consider this your lucky day, because if you succeed in getting me what I want, you’ll be rewarded fully and you’ll be rewarded generously. I’ll be dropping by in a couple of days to see where should we start, and I’ll be sending you a few sketches until then which we can discuss on our first meeting. Now I’m no artist, but at least I’m no stranger to a pen, so the few ideas I’ve drawn may be able to show you what I have in mind, so stay tuned.
Yours truly,
The anonymous individual who got you the Gladiator blueprints
It was a semi-strange sight on Cartagena. Sure she seemed a little out of place, but surprisingly enough, nobody really seemed to care. If she had docking permission, it was most likely fine.
The newcomer walks into a lounge, noting it had it's own little bar, but decided to grab a coffee instead. Filling up a Styrofoam cup, she sits down in a chair and pulls out a tablet computer. An image of a blueprint shows up on the screen, as she starts scrolling through some data which Aerelm sent her after she left.
Deciding to wait until people find her, instead of going to find them. After all, all she knew was the project. The people? He wonderfully neglected to mention anything about that, besides that she'd indeed be getting help with the project she's been tasked to work on.
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A young woman was sitting at a small table on the opposite side of the lounge with her knees crossed. She was steadily flicking though her magazine when the table with the newcomer caught her eye. The magazine was slowly lowered and she gazed upon the newcomer. Realising that it was the person she was expecting, she uncrossed her knees and stood up. She walked over and approached the newcomer.
"Hola. My name is Cloe Galvez. Would you like to follow me and I'll take you to your room?"
Without any hesitation, the newcomer stands up and nods to Cloe. Cloe started to head to a small corridor, where she pointed out a room on the right.
"This one here. This one is yours. Make yourself at home"
Eying the room a second, turning to the woman with a slight bow. "Thanks, I appreciate it." Glancing around the hallway for a moment, before sliding the tablet computer back in a small case at her side. Cracking her knuckles a little as she enters the room slightly. Walking into the room, spotting a folder on the desk.
Opening it up, revealing the details on the team and the lab and assembly rooms (with directions on how to get there) on which she'll be able to use. Looking over the contents slowly, she glances back up to the woman who showed her the room to ask one last thing before she left.
"You folks won't care if I do some renovating, will you? I have some cables to string. Can't promise that wall will remain looking the way it does, i'll try to make it look as pretty as possible. Functionality over aesthetic looks is how I do things. Plus it will give me some shenanigans to have some fun with until the rest of the team shows up, I sure as hell am going to enjoy this while I can."
Shrugging slightly. An amusing woman. Perhaps she'd go bug her later about perhaps a drink, heck maybe even a date. Walking into the room, sitting on a swivel chair in front of the sole desk. Drawing her legs up to her chest, her feet resting on the chair, she spins herself idly as she looks over the files quietly. Grabbing a few papers and setting it in a different file of things she may need in the future.
Half an hour later, she sighs and closes the folder. It looked good enough. A outline could perhaps be created for the project right now, although she's been told that there are a few others she should wait for before beginning. Well. Until they show up, may as well at least draw up an outline.
Walking over to the bed, collapsing on her back. May as well take a nap until then..
This project in general was admittedly slightly amusing. The concept itself sounded rather silly, although with the constructional freedom which was given to her to get the job done? She could care less about smaller details like that.
Grabbing the folder which was provided to her with the information, she begins heading down to the facilities which have been prepared for this very project. Placing her tablet computer down, she grabs a memory drive and brings up the first piece that she planned to work with.
-- Log One --
You see, standard hulls for the vessels you see flying around commonly are a solid plate with multiple layers. While this is indeed a simple and easy way to create structure containing the internal mechanisms of a vessel, I don't personally agree with this design.
You see, internal bonds with a solid plate all depends on how it has been bonded in the first place. In most cases, being melted down and cooled together. Other cases, being welded together. Each of these different processes has different molecular bonds between each of them.
While these bonds are indeed strong enough to create a finished project and tough hull, what most people don't do is double-layer the bonded patterns. Instead of layering multiple plates to create the desired thickness, a method which I've modified slightly requires a thicker metal instead of thin sheets.
This single piece of metal is then carefully manipulated to create tubes and branches making the hull a 'net' before you give the external layer covering.
Stage One Hull Design
While this is the plan to be used in the finished project, there isn't much more that could be done until I figure out who the hell i'm working with, and who is going to be doing what. While i'm good in some subjects, making the entire thing on my own isn't that feasible. I'll see about finishing up the dimension finalization, and go from there. We'll see.
Walking into the Lounge near the arrival was a scruffy looking man. Wearing a gray flight-/mechanics suit, he walked over to the coffee maker, grabbing the biggest cup he could find, pouring it to the rim before going to sit down. The journey from Valetta to Cartagena wasn't long or hard, though it had bothered him to have to move. Promise of good rewards and rewarding work were enough to motivate his move with the rest of the team though.
Emilio sat at the table, his feet propped up onto it, the coffee mug in his hand wandering from the table to his mouth and back. He was supposed to be picked up here and then brought to the rest of the crew, so now it meant - waiting.
Having a sip of coffee, the woman who seemingly had made her place right at home walks by the lounge/bar. Spotting a man sitting at a table, she squints her eyes slightly. She has seen him before.. Ah wait, he was mentioned in the files that the bossman gave her, eh?
Walking over to the table, she takes a seat across from him and folds her hands. Staring at his face for a good thirty seconds, she nods slightly impressed. "Hey, you're not that bad looking. Loose the crappy grey clothes, grab something more vibrant and shave you'd clean up nicely. Fashion advice was never something i'm adept at giving though, worth a try."
Leaning back, taking a sip of her own cup once more. "Whats the name again? Emilia?" Obviously having misread the file. "So you're the next person up on the list to help me with the damned thing a few labs and construction rooms over, eh?"