“I’m looking forward to these next two missions,” said Cole as the Teddy R slowly moved away from the dock. “We’re at full strength, everyone’s healthy, we’ve got a legitimate fleet behind us, we’re got the Commander of the Fifth Teroni Fleet on our side, we’ve even got the Valkyrie back.”
“You sound exceptionally proud, Steerforth,” said Copperfield.
“I am. For an outlaw ship that’s wanted by every government in the galaxy, we’ve come a long way.”
“Need I remind you what goeth before a fall, my old school chum?”
“Spare me your platitudes, David,” said Cole. “Look at what we’ve already accomplished against much greater odds than we figure to face this week.” He emptied his coffee cup. “We started out as one lone ship. Now we’ve got twenty-seven, run by some damned good officers, and we’ve got the firepower to stand up to just about anything we find on the Frontier. What could go wrong?”
If there was, as old spacehands believed, a sardonic Galactic Spirit, it must have laughed aloud at that line.
APPENDIXES
Appendix One
THE ORIGIN OF THE BIRTHRIGHT UNIVERSE
It happened in the 1970s. Carol and I were watching a truly awful movie at a local theater, and about halfway through it I muttered, “Why am I wasting my time here when I could be doing something really interesting, like, say, writing the entire history of the human race from now until its extinction?” And she whispered back, “So why don’t you?” We got up immediately, walked out of the theater, and that night I outlined a novel called Birthright: The Book of Man, which would tell the story of the human race from its attainment of faster-than-light flight until its death eighteen thousand years from now.
It was a long book to write. I divided the future into five political eras—Republic, Democracy, Oligarchy, Monarchy, and Anarchy—and wrote twenty-six connected stories (“demonstrations,” Analog called them, and rightly so), displaying every facet of the human race, both admirable and not so admirable. Since each is set a few centuries from the last, there are no continuing characters (unless you consider Man, with a capital M, the main character, in which case you could make an argument—or at least, I could—that it’s really a character study).
I sold it to Signet, along with another novel, titled The Soul Eater. My editor there, Sheila Gilbert, loved the Birthright Universe and asked me if I would be willing to make a few changes to The Soul Eater so that it was set in that future. I agreed, and the changes actually took less than a day. She made the same request—in advance, this time—for the four-book Tales of the Galactic Midway series, the four-book Tales of the Velvet Comet series, and Walpurgis III. Looking back, I see that only two of the thirteen novels I wrote for Signet were not set there.
When I moved to Tor Books, my editor there, Beth Meacham, had a fondness for the Birthright Universe, and most of my books for her—not all, but most—were set in it: Santiago, Ivory, Paradise, Purgatory, Inferno, A Miracle of Rare Design, A Hunger in the Soul, The Outpost, and The Return of Santiago.
When Ace agreed to buy Soothsayer, Oracle, and Prophet from me, my editor, Ginjer Buchanan, assumed that of course they’d be set in the Birthright Universe—and of course they were, because as I learned a little more about my eighteen-thousand-year, two-million-world future, I felt a lot more comfortable writing about it.
In fact, I started setting short stories in the Birthright Universe. Two of my Hugo winners—“Seven Views of Olduvai Gorge” and “The 43 Antarean Dynasties”—are set there, and so are perhaps fifteen others.
When Bantam agreed to take the Widowmaker trilogy from me, it was a foregone conclusion that Janna Silverstein, who purchased the books but had moved to another company before they came out, would want them to take place in the Birthright Universe. She did indeed request it, and I did indeed agree.
I recently handed in a book to Meisha Merlin, set—where else?—in the Birthright Universe.
And when it came time to suggest a series of books to Lou Anders for the new Pyr line of science fiction, I don’t think I ever considered any ideas or stories that weren’t set in the Birthright Universe.
I’ve gotten so much of my career from the Birthright Universe that I wish I could remember the name of that turkey we walked out of all those years ago so I could write the producers and thank them.
Appendix Two
THE LAYOUT OF THE BIRTHRIGHT UNIVERSE
The most heavily populated (by both stars and inhabitants) section of the Birthright Universe is always referred to by its political identity, which evolves from Republic to Democracy to Oligarchy to Monarchy. It encompasses millions of inhabited and habitable worlds. Earth is too small and too far out of the mainstream of galactic commerce to remain Man’s capital world, and within a couple of thousand years the capital has been moved lock, stock, and barrel halfway across the galaxy to Deluros VIII, a huge world with about ten times Earth’s surface and near-identical atmosphere and gravity. By the middle of the Democracy, perhaps four thousand years from now, the entire planet is covered by one huge sprawling city. By the time of the Oligarchy, even Deluros VIII isn’t big enough for our billions of empire-running bureaucrats, and Deluros VI, another large world, is broken up into forty-eight planetoids, each housing a major department of the government (with four planetoids given over entirely to the military).
Earth itself is way out in the boonies, on the Spiral Arm. I don’t believe I’ve set more than parts of a couple of stories on the Arm.
At the outer edge of the galaxy is the Rim, where worlds are spread out and underpopulated. There’s so little of value or military interest on the Rim that one ship, such as the Theodore Roosevelt, can patrol a couple of hundred worlds by itself. In later eras, the Rim will be dominated by feuding warlords, but it’s so far away from the center of things that the governments, for the most part, just ignore it.
Then there are the Inner and Outer Frontiers. The Outer Frontier is that vast but sparsely populated area between the outer edge of the Republic/Democracy/Oligarchy/Monarchy and the Rim. The Inner Frontier is that somewhat smaller (but still huge) area between the inner reaches of the Republic/etc. and the black hole at the core of the galaxy.
It’s on the Inner Frontier that I’ve chosen to set more than half of my novels. Years ago the brilliant writer R. A. Lafferty wrote, “Will there be a mythology of the future, they used to ask, after all has become science? Will high deeds be told in epic, or only in computer code?” I decided that I’d like to spend at least a part of my career trying to create those myths of the future, and it seems to me that myths, with their bigger-than-life characters and colorful settings, work best on frontiers where there aren’t too many people around to chronicle them accurately, or too many authority figures around to prevent them from playing out to their inevitable conclusions. So I arbitrarily decided that the Inner Frontier was where my myths would take place, and I populated it with people bearing names like Catastrophe Baker, the Widowmaker, the Cyborg de Milo, the ageless Forever Kid, and the like. It not only allows me to tell my heroic (and sometimes antiheroic) myths, but lets me tell more realistic stories occurring at the very same time a few thousand light-years away in the Republic or Democracy or whatever happens to exist at that moment.
Over the years I’ve fleshed out the galaxy. There are the star clusters—the Albion Cluster, the Quinellus Cluster, a few others. There are the individual worlds, some important enough to appear as the title of a book, such as Walpurgis III, some reappearing throughout the time periods and stories, such as Deluros VIII, Antares III, Binder X, Keepsake, Spica II, and some others, and hundreds (maybe thousands by now) of worlds (and races, now that I think about it) mentioned once and never again.
Then there are, if not the bad guys, at least what I think of as the Disloyal Opposition. Some, like the Sett Empire, get into one war with humanity and that’s the end of it. Some, like the Canphor Twins (Canphor VI and Canphor VII), have been a thorn in Man’s sid
e for the better part of ten millennia. Some, like Lodin XI, vary almost daily in their loyalties depending on the political situation.
I’ve been building this universe, politically and geographically, for a quarter of a century now, and with each passing book and story it feels a little more real to me. Give me another thirty years and I’ll probably believe every word I’ve written about it.
Appendix Three
CHRONOLOGY OF THE BIRTHRIGHT UNIVERSE
Novels not set in this future
Adventures (1922-1926 A.D.)
Exploits (1926-1931 A.D.)
Encounters (1931-1934 A.D.)
Hazards (1934-1939 A.D.)
Stalking the Unicorn (“Tonight”)
Stalking the Vampire (“Tonight”)
The Branch (2047-2051 A.D.)
Second Contact (2065 A.D.)
Bully! (1910-1912 A.D.)
Kirinyaga (2123-2137 A.D.)
Lady with an Alien (1490 A.D.)
A Club in Montmartre (1890-1901 A.D.)
Dragon America: Revolution (1779-1780 A.D.)
The World behind the Door (1928 A.D.)
The Other Teddy Roosevelts (1888-1919 A.D.)
Appendix Four
SINGAPORE STATION A Short Infrastructure History
By Deborah Oakes
Singapore Station is known galaxy-wide for its unique diplomatic status and the vitality of its trade. Few stop to consider what a truly amazing engineering feat this aggregate station
represents. When Saville Station and the Lewis Outpost decided to combine forces, forming the seed that was to grow into Singapore Station, they possessed similar power systems, standard atmospheres, and construction techniques. Even so, they placed their combined station carefully at a Lagrange point in the new system to minimize gravitational stress on the structure. For the first fifty years, only stations with standard atmospheres were added to Singapore Station. Wherever possible, power and communication systems were integrated into the Singapore Station grid. Airlocks and docking facilities were used to join neighboring stations, or detached and moved to the ever-growing fringe of Singapore Station. Some sections became so interconnected that only business addresses revealed which station a section had formerly been. In other places, unique holdovers from a station’s history survive. Stresses on the total structure are balanced carefully and monitored continuously. In all Singapore Station’s history, there has never been an involuntary station breech or decoupling—a remarkable feat for so complex a structure. Both personnel and cargo lift shafts connect all sections with a dedicated transportation level. The lift shafts and stations of the transportation level are among the few structures built specifically for Singapore Station, rather than being cannibalized from merging stations. Cargo handling is automated, using spherical cargo pods and a magnetic induction system. All sections and ship docking facilities are connected by monorail on the transportation level. It is a characteristic of the station that mechanized travel laterally within the standard atmosphere levels is virtually nonexistent.
When a consortium of chlorine-breathing stations first approached Singapore Station with a merger proposal, there was considerable opposition from the infrastructure engineers. Interfacing two mutually deadly atmospheric systems carried a high risk. Of necessity, power systems and structural standards of the chlorine-atmosphere stations were radically different. Chlorine is a very active element, and corrosive to many metals, so the stations used massive natural and artificial stone analogs extensively. In the end, as might be expected for Singapore Station, a compromise was reached. A new level was created, not attached to the existing two levels at standard atmosphere, but on the opposite side of the transportation level. The new level was integrated into the overall structure flexibly, at the transportation level, and remained responsible for maintaining its own dynamic stability and services. Dedicated interfaces with the transportation system were limited, and chlorine breathers could use some facilities only when suited. This became the template for adding nonstandard stations to Singapore Station. The next level to be added was a negotiation level with no atmosphere, located “beneath” the chlorine level. Facilities are limited to conference rooms, computational services, and transportation and emergency facilities. Untenanted except for negotiators during conferences, it also serves as a buffer between the chlorine level and the ammonia-atmosphere habitats.
The ammonia-breathers’ habitats are a collection of interconnected cylinders and spheres with a wide variety of atmospheric pressure, gravity, and temperature. Many gleam beautifully, being coated with highly reflective materials to help maintain the low temperatures found on the moons that are home to many ammonia breathers. Some residents prefer an ammonia-methane mixture. Their habitats serve as an interface between the ammonia habitats and the final level on Singapore Station—the massive habitats of the methane breathers. Two of these enormous space stations are the newest nonstandard additions to Singapore Station. Huge flattened ovoids with massive structural ribs, these stations provide the high-pressure atmosphere required by the only known pure methane-breathing race, which developed in the atmosphere of the galaxy’s gas giants.
Just as new levels have been added for chlorine, ammonia, and methane breathers, so the standard atmosphere side of Singapore Station has continued to grow outward, reaching four levels, and over five miles in diameter at spots. In some areas, lateral connections have been limited by the architecture of the original stations. Highly connected stations tend to become commercial centers. Those with limited personnel access but good cargo access became havens for traders and the occasion local manufacturer. Any sections with overall poor transportation become mainly residential or warehouse space.
Occasionally, a feature on a merged station will prove unexpectedly advantageous. For instance, the experimental farm dome was once part of a research station. Enclosed by station growth, it is now lit by artificial light and maintained as York section’s own park—lined by some of the most expensive residences on Singapore Station. In another case, an enormous water tank, part of a radiation barrier on an early station, is now a favorite recreational stop on station, and serves double duty as an emergency water reserve. There are many such unique features to be found throughout the many levels of the station. Visitors wishing to see more of the facilities are encouraged to employ a local guide. Enjoy exploring Singapore Station.
Deborah Oakes is an aerospace engineer, a lifetime science fiction fan, and the secretary/treasurer of the venerable Cincinnati Fantasy Group.
Appendix Five
DUKE’S PLACE CASINO SCHEMATIC
By Deborah Oakes
Appendix Six
PIRATE QUEENS
By Mike Resnick
Something interesting happened on the way to writing this appendix. I began getting tons of fan mail about Starship: Pirate, and almost all of it concerned Val. Although she never
made an appearance until halfway through the second Starship book, she is clearly the most popular character in the series.
A lot of the letters asked how I came up with the unique notion of a Pirate Queen. So I guess it’s time for a confession: Pirate Queens have been around for even longer than the field of science fiction. And that led me to think that maybe you’d like to know a little something about their history.
Hugo Gernsback, who created the field as a separate publishing category with Amazing Stories back in 1926, defined science fiction (his first term for it, which fell flat on its face, was “scientifiction”) as a branch of fiction that would get young boys interested in science. Young girls were presumably too busy playing with their dolls.
But young boys didn’t have any disposable income during the Depression, so after Buck Rogers and Hawk Carse and the crew of Doc Smith’s Skylark had made their debuts, publishers decided that maybe they ought to start running some stuff that appealed to older boys—like from fifteen to ninety.
Enter the Pirate Queens.
The most memora
ble of the early ones was probably Belit, who proved a perfect match for the redoubtable Conan, in Robert E. Howard’s classic “Queen of the Black Coast.”
Then Stanley Weinbaum came up with the Red Peri, who, like Belit, had a young Sophia Loren’s looks and a fictional Tarzan’s physical skills.
A. Merritt added the gorgeous Sharane, goddess, temptress, priestess, and, yes, Pirate Queen aboard The Ship of Ishtar.
And suddenly it was Katie-bar-the-door, and gorgeous, sword-wielding Pirate Queens were popping up all over the place, some good, some evil, all dressed for extremely warm weather. You couldn’t turn around without running into one.
And then something happened, and that something was John W. Campbell Jr., the most influential editor in the history of science fiction. He took over the editorship of Astounding in the late 1930s, made it the most prestigious magazine in the field, and paid so much (for that time) that it was more economically feasible for an author to rewrite a story a couple of times to Campbell’s specifications than to sell it fresh out of the typewriter anywhere else.
Campbell didn’t allow sex or sexual innuendo in Astounding—and nobody could deny that gorgeous, half-naked Pirate Queens had more than a little sexual appeal for the boys and the boys-at-heart who had made them so popular.
They didn’t vanish—nobody has ever made Topic Number One vanish—but they moved to the cheaper magazines, and at a quarter-cent to a half-cent a word subtlety went out the window, and most of their physical skills soon went the way of the dinosaur. Boys wanted heroes they could identify with, so the Good Guys were always males ... but they also wanted half-naked Pirate Queens, and for the better part of the next decade Pirate Queens became villains, out to conquer the galaxy (frequently by seducing it, one hero at a time).
Starship: Mercenary (Starship, Book 3) Page 26